#still coming up with a name for this one but there is at least one chapter written and am considering making an ao3 pseud to post on

[lheesluv]

thirsty for your touch (s.jy)

just Jake satisfying his needy girlfriend in every way possible after she was busy thirsting over his sleeveless selfie pic

PAIRINGS - hard dom idol bf!jake x sub fem!reader

GENRE - smut (mdni), established relationship

WARNINGS - p in v, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap up ur willy!), dom jake, submissive and needy reader, breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (fem receive), Imk if i missed anything!

WC — 1.5k

A/N — i be yapping my life away on these oneshots 😭🙏�� this was supposed to be released ages ago but uh…..

© All rights reserved Iheesluv do not copy, repost, or translate.

Jake steps into the dim apartment, peeling off his jacket with a groan, muscles sore from the night’s set. He expects you to be asleep, curled up under the blankets like usual. But instead, he finds His brows lift. “Babe? You’re still up?”

You jolt slightly, eyes snapping up to meet his. There’s a flicker of guilt in them—just enough to spark his curiosity.

“…Yeah,” you mumble, shifting slightly under the covers. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Jake narrows his eyes and walks closer. “Couldn’t sleep? Or too busy staring at my newest selfie, hmm?”

You blink, stunned.

He smirks. “Yeah. I saw the likes and comments flooding in the second I posted it. Figured you might be one of them.”

You don’t deny it. You can’t. Because your phone screen is still lit up, and his post is right there—him in that sleeveless shirt, biceps on full display, sweat glistening on his skin, a cocky little smirk on his lips.

Jake leans over, plucks the phone out of your hands, and raises an eyebrow.

“Thought so.”

“Jake—”

He tosses your phone aside and crawls onto the bed, eyes dark and sharp, settling between your thighs like he owns the space.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with heat, “if my girl’s gonna sit there drooling over me like that… the least I can do is give her the real thing.”

Your breath catches as he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other sliding under the covers and dragging your panties down slowly, teasingly.

“But we’re doing this my way,” he growls. “No touching. No whining. And you come when I say.”

He slips two fingers between your thighs and groans at how wet you already are.

“Damn. You really were sitting here soaking over a selfie, huh?”

Your cheeks burn, but it’s no use. Jake’s in full control now. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he strokes you slowly, deliberately avoiding your clit, teasing you just enough to make your hips twitch in frustration.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“You want more, baby? You better ask for it.”

“Please,” you whimper, writhing under his touch.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me… Jake, please—”

He grins, devilish and proud. “There she is.”

With that, he dives between your thighs, tongue replacing his fingers as he devours you with slow, maddening precision. Your moans fill the room, hands still pinned above you as he holds you there, completely at his mercy.

And he doesn’t stop. Not until you're shaking, begging, chanting his name like a prayer.

Only then does he pull back, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and crawl up your body. He quickly tugs his pants down and holds your thighs open.

“Next time you wanna thirst over me,” he murmurs, dragging his tip along your entrance, “just wait ‘til I get home.”

Then he thrusts into you in one deep, punishing stroke—his way.

He stays deep inside you for a moment, eyes locked on yours, letting the pressure and stretch settle before rolling his hips slow and mean. The kind of thrusts that make you feel every inch of him, that keep you on the edge without tipping over.

Your breath hitches. “Jake—”

He silences you with a kiss. Hot, possessive, his tongue sliding against yours as he fucks you slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring the way your body reacts to every grind of his hips.

“God, look at you,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to watch the way your brows knit in frustration. “Squirming under me, all worked up ‘cause of a little sleeveless pic. I should post more, huh?”

He smirks when you whine, your body desperate for more friction. “You’re mean.”

“I’m fair,” he says, grabbing your thigh and hitching it up over his shoulder, pushing even deeper now. “You wanna act needy, you get treated like it.”

The new angle makes you cry out, and he groans at the sound.

“You’re gonna take every inch like a good girl,” he growls, snapping his hips harder now. “You’re not coming until I say. Got it?”

You nod, biting your lip so hard it might bruise.

Jake pulls out suddenly, leaving you gasping at the loss. “Turn over.”

You obey instantly, heart racing, face buried into the pillows as you arch your back, offering yourself up to him. He doesn’t hesitate. He slams back into you with a deep, brutal thrust that makes your eyes roll back.

“This what you wanted, huh?” His palm comes down on your ass, the sting delicious, your moan muffled by the sheets. “My cock deep in you while you’re soaked from just looking at me?”

“Yes—fuck—yes, Jake—”

He fucks you rough, relentless now, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. The sounds of skin slapping fill the room, mixed with the filthy sounds leaving both your lips.

And then, just when you feel yourself tipping over that edge, he leans over your back, voice a growl in your ear.

“Come. Now.”

Your body obeys before your brain can catch up—your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave, your legs shaking, back arching as you fall apart on his cock.

Jake groans and follows, burying himself deep, hips jerking as he spills inside you with a rough grunt of your name.

You’re still trembling from your orgasm, mind hazy, body spent, but Jake? He’s far from finished.

He lies beside you for only a moment, stroking your back as you try to catch your breath. Then he sits up, leans over you, and presses a kiss to the small of your back.

“You didn’t really think that was all, did you?”

Your heart skips.

He slides his hands down to your thighs and pulls them apart again, revealing your soaked, sensitive core. “Look at this,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the mess he left inside you. “You’re dripping. Still so needy.”

“Jake,” you breathe, voice already wrecked.

“I said you’d come when I let you, not once and done.” He presses two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them perfectly. “So you’re gonna take everything I give you. All night.”

Your body jerks, hips twitching at the stimulation, but his free hand pins you down to keep you in place.

“You wanna come again?” he asks, lips ghosting your ear. “Then you better stay nice and open for me.”

He teases you like that—fingers pumping slow and controlled, pulling just short of what you need while his words get filthier.

“I could take a picture of you right now,” he whispers. “Bent over, wrecked, dripping for me. Post that instead of the selfie. Let everyone really see what you think of me.”

You whimper, clenching around his fingers, but he pulls them out with a wet sound and smacks your ass once, making you jolt.

“Uh-uh,” he says darkly. “Not until I’m buried inside you again.”

He flips you onto your back this time and lifts your legs over his shoulders, bending you in half as he slides back in slowly, watching your face contort in overstimulated pleasure.

“Still so tight,” he groans, fucking you with a slow, deep rhythm that drives you insane. “You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come all over my cock this time?”

You nod, already trembling, but Jake doesn’t pick up the pace. He holds you there, legs trembling in the air, his abs flexing as he keeps that same maddening tempo. Each stroke pressing deep, filling you to the brim, keeping you just at the edge.

Your hands grip the sheets. “Jake, please—please, I’m so close—”

His thumb brushes over your clit again, this time firmer. Faster.

“Then give it to me,” he growls. “Show me how desperate you are. Show me who owns this pussy.”

Your orgasm crashes into you harder than the last—your body arching, thighs shaking, moaning his name like a mantra. Jake keeps moving through it, riding out every tremble, every squeeze, until you’re writhing beneath him.

But even then, he’s still not done.

He slows down, pulling out, his cock still hard and glistening. You think he’s finally giving you a break, but then he pulls you up, dragging you into his lap.

“Ride me,” he says, voice like gravel. “Nice and slow. Let me feel you break.”

You barely have the strength, but your body obeys, lowering onto him again with a gasp. He watches every second—his girl, all fucked out and dazed, still chasing his touch.

You roll your hips against him, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you just how he wants. His lips brush your collarbone, murmuring praise between moans.

“That’s it. Just like that. Keep going, baby. I want every last drop of you.”

And he keeps you going, guiding you through one more orgasm, then another, until your body is nothing but shaking limbs, fucked full and marked by every place he touched.

And only then, when you can barely whisper his name—does he finally let go, groaning into your shoulder as he spills inside you again, holding you tight to his chest while both your bodies tremble in sync.

When it’s over, you collapse against him, completely spent.

“God, I fucking love you and his pussy.”

[bloomiize]

gooner!jake finally gets pussy and its so much better than his hand

part one two three

gooner!jake was embarrassed for the first time. He usually doesn't care about his perverted, disgusting behaviour — but it's different now. Jake's jerked off to other girls more times than he can remember, but you're the first one who's real. He's talked to you, seen you smile and laugh at his jokes, even hugged you — that fucking hug that led to this.

You heard him fuck his fist and drain all his cum out while saying your name. He basically confessed to you in the middle of it. Jake wanted to end the call and crawl up and die from embarrassment, but how could he when you said his name like that?

"Jakey," you whimpered, and that alone was enough to get him hard again.

Even though Jake is vile — the guy who eats his own cum pretending it's yours and stole your panties to get off — he's a gentleman. He would never leave you alone in a state like this. Especially not when you're moaning like that, thinking about him. So even though his dick is sore and tired, he rubs it again so you’re not alone.

gooner!jake is in heaven. The girl he's been obsessed with for the past year is on the other side of the phone making lewd sounds for him. He never thought this would happen —not for another year at least. Jake hasn't even asked you out yet, and here you are, begging him for more.

"P-p-please, i-i can't take it!" Your pussy is clenching desperately around your fingers begging for more. So close but not enough to tip you over the edge. You can't believe that jake — your project partner— fucked his fist while you were still on the phone. What's even worse? You can't believe how hot it was.

Maybe you did wear extra short skirts when you studied together, and perhaps you did push up against him a little extra when you gave him a hug. Who are you kidding? You knew how he looked at you. You weren't dumb. Besides, jake wasn't exactly discreet with his staring, and he wasn't good at hiding the tent straining against his pants either.

You pushed him just to see if he would break, and he did. You just weren't expecting how wet you would be for him.

gooner!jake couldn’t sleep at all. He kept replaying how you sounded earlier; your adorable moans and whimpers, the way you cried out his name. How you said you wanted him — no, needed him. His overstimulated dick was sore and aching from the ungodly amount of times he'd cum that day. But the thoughts of you still plagued his brain, and his hand slipped into his shorts, gripping his throbbing cock. He couldn’t control himself. It hurt, but it felt so fucking good. He closed his eyes and thought about how desperate you sounded. Would you beg like that for him in person? He could make you.

As he continued pumping his cock, he realized he needed you too. He needed your lips everywhere. He wanted to fuck your tight cunt so good that you'd have his name imprinted inside you. Just one chance.

Jake was holding back tears from how sensitive he was, breaking into a loud, animalistic moan when he finally came. It still wasn’t enough. He turned onto his side and groaned into his pillow.

Jake knew he was a gooner — he knew it was gross. He wasn’t planning on showing you this side of him at all. What if you didn’t want to talk to him anymore? What if you found him revolting?

Because Jake didn’t just like you for his dirty fantasies. He liked you in a way that wasn’t fueled by lust. It was more than that.

How is he supposed to face you after whispering, "Good girl, just like that" and, "Fuck yourself a little harder for me," into the microphone just so you could finish?

gooner!jake couldn't make eye contact with you when he came over. You hung up the phone right after you finished last night but you quickly sent him a text after.

Y/N: um, thanks for the help

Y/N: can you come over tomorrow after class?

JAKE: of course, i'll be there at 6

And now here he is.

"Sorry about last night. It’s just been a while, and you were there, so... asking you for help was a one-time thing. It won’t happen again, I promise—" You stop rambling when you realize Jake’s been staring, looking down at you. When you finally lock eyes, he jerks his gaze away at lightning speed, a red flush creeping up his neck.

"No, I’m sorry. I thought I hung up. You weren’t supposed to hear... me." Jake is struggling to keep his composure. You’re wearing your tiny tank top and shorts again, talking about what happened like it's nothing, looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes. Is this be the angle he would get if you sucked his cock? Even now, he still can't stop thinking about you.

Jake feels a pang in his chest when you call it a one-time thing. "Was my help not good enough for you?" he says, stepping closer, closing the gap between you, pushing you back against the kitchen counter.

If this was his only chance with you, he was going to take it.

"Th-that's not what I-I meant..." You’re trapped now, caged between his arms, the cold counter behind you. He's leaning down so close you can feel his breath on your skin. Your face is burning; your breathing turns uneven.

Jake’s towering over you, waiting, daring you to say something. "I-it was g-good," you finally admit, voice small.

gooner!jake takes that as the only sign he needs. His hands immediately grab your waist, holding you tight and firm, tugging you closer. He’s breathing hard — both of you are — the air thick with tension. His hands roam up from your waist, fingers skimming the base of your chest. You can feel it, his hard cock pressing against you through his sweats. You’re already soaking through your panties.

"Tell me to stop, Y/N," he rasps, nibbling your ear and groaning when you whimper. "You have no idea what I want to do to you. It’s unhealthy. I’m sick."

His mouth trails down your neck, kissing, biting, soothing over the marks he’s leaving. You’re shaking under him, and Jake pauses, his hands trembling but still tucked under your top. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes — big, round, pleading.

"Y/N," he whispers, voice hoarse. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head.

How could you tell him to stop when you’ve been touching yourself thinking about him for the past six months? When he started as the classmate who stared at you for a little too long, and became Jake, suspiciously strong, ridiculously cute, flustered so easily, always willing to do anything for you?

You liked him.

You really liked him.

gooner!jake is humping into you thigh at a desperate pace. He gave you a way out but you...

You. Shook. Your. Head.

This must be a dream. There's no way that he's palming your your tit and hearing you gasp under him like this right now. He's biting on your shoulder and rutting into you like a dog in heat and you're just letting him.

"F-fuck! I'm disgusting for you. I stole your panties two weeks ago. They're back at my apartment covered in my cum... I'm gross, I can't stop. Tell me to stop. Please." He admits to you, maybe this will snap you back into reality and make you realize he isn't the type of guy you want. He's scared and hides his face in your collar, licking the bruises he just left there. If you're going to say yes to him, he wants you to know him, the true him and what you're signing up for.

Your hands grab his face so he's looking at you, stroking his flushed cheeks with your thumbs. His eyes are glassy and desperate— poor baby. "Jakey," His hips slow down and he lets out a tiny whimper hearing his nickname. "I left those out... for you to see. I-I... i want you too."

gooner!jake nearly cums in his pants. His lips crashing into you. His tongue is finding yours at a rapid pace. Your fingers are tangled in his hair and his hands are groping your tits. Jake is moaning into you like you're his saviour, his piece of salvation.

When you finally pull away for air, a string of saliva connects you two. You glance at the bed and he takes the hint. He refuses to take his lips off your neck and hands away from you as you walk over, him pushing you onto the bed when you eventually make it.

gooner!jake is drinking in the sight of you lying there. Hair messy, tank top and shorts raised up, you're so perfect. He strips your shorts off in one swift move, tossing them somewhere he doesn’t care to look. His heart stutters when he sees the wet patch staining your panties. So fucking cute. His eyes roll back, hips bucking against the mattress like he’s in heat.

"I've thought about this for so long. Please, I'll take such good care of you. Just a little taste, I'll be so good." He whines and mumbles it over and over like a prayer while his fingers ghost over your clothed cunt, teasing you. Your cute little gasps and whimpers drive him fucking crazy. His cock twitches painfully hard in his pants.

When you let out a soft, breathy "Mhm," — barely a sound, but enough — Jake loses it.

He dives in without hesitation, mouthing at your pussy through your soaked panties. Sucking, licking, nuzzling like he's a dog. You can feel the heat of his tongue through the thin fabric, the way he moans against you like he's the one being touched.

It’s messy. It’s desperate. It’s Jake.

But it’s not enough. He needs more.

Without even thinking, he yanks your panties aside and then tears them down your legs. Jake buries his face between your thighs, tongue fucking you like he’s starving. Slurping, moaning, whimpering your name into your pussy like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

His hands are everywhere — gripping your thighs so tight they’ll bruise, pushing your hips down when you start to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.

"P-please, Jake — ngh — s’too much—" you whimper, fingers threading into his hair, trying to pull him away.

He shakes his head, lips locked around your clit, sucking hard enough to make your back arch off the bed.

"No, please, please, need more — need you to cum, need it so bad. Fuck, just wanna taste you, wanna drink you — please, please—" he's babbling against you, voice cracking like he's about to cry.

You don’t even get a chance to argue before he slips two fingers into you, pumping slow and deep, curling them just right. His mouth never leaves your clit, tongue flicking and swirling fast and messy. Your fingers never reached that deep; this new sensation has you seeing stars.

Your orgasm crashes down hard, your thighs clamping around his head, your voice breaking into whiny little sobs. Jake groans like he’s the one cumming, grinding his leaking cock against the bed without a shred of shame. There's probably a wet spot on your sheets.

He keeps licking you through it, sloppily, hungrily, tasting everything, like he's trying to burn the memory of it into his mouth forever.

When you finally go limp, trembling, Jake pulls away with a slick, swollen mouth, looking dazed. His pupils are blown wide, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his hairline. He's licking his lips to savour it.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, but it’s useless — he’s soaked. His whole body is shaking from how badly he needs you.

"You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, voice hoarse. He presses desperate, messy kisses to your thighs, your hips, anywhere he can reach. "Need you," he whines again, hips bucking helplessly against nothing. "Please — please let me fuck you, I’ll be so good, promise, I swear — I c-can’t, please.”

You grab his face, pulling him up, and whisper, "Jake... fuck me."

You swear you feel his soul leave his body.

He fumbles with his sweats, shoving them down along with his boxers, cock slapping up against his stomach — red and leaking, twitching from how fucking desperate he is. Fuck he is bigger than you thought. You're a little worried about how it'll fit and it shows on your face.

He lines himself up, hands trembling so badly he almost misses, but when the tip catches against your slick entrance, he chokes on a sob.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" he gasps, pressing in slow, dragging the thick head against your messy cunt, sinking in inch by inch. His head is thrown back and he's already close.

You both moan, loud and filthy, as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours. You feel full, stretched so good you’re already clenching around him, body trembling from oversensitivity.

"F-fuck, you’re so tight — 's perfect, made for me —" Jake whines against your neck, rutting his hips shallowly, not able to stop himself even for a second.

"Please — please relax for me" he gasps out, voice cracking as he presses desperate kisses along your jawline. "I can’t — you’re so warm, fuck, just a little looser, please, I can’t—"

He’s needy and messy, thrusting into you in short, desperate snaps of his hips, each movement punching a gasped moan out of you. You’re already fucked out, clawing at his back, tears brimming in your eyes from how good he feels, from how full you are.

"Jakey — ngh — slow down —" you whimper, but he can't.

"Can't — can't stop—s-sorry, you're too good —" Jake babbles against your skin, biting and licking at your collarbone. He’s holding your hips, pounding into you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets up for even a second. Every time he bottoms out, he grinds his hips down, stuffing his cock as deep as he can, dragging the most pathetic little sounds out of both of you.

"I love you, I love you, i can't believe you're letting me do this —" Jake whimpers like a broken record, words spilling out without him even realizing. You’re squeezing him so tight he’s losing his mind. Jake’s cock twitches violently inside you, and he presses his forehead to yours, voice cracking. "Please — please let me cum inside — need it, need it so bad — please, fuck, please, y/n—"

You nod through the haze, too fucked out to even form words. Jake sobs when you nod, hips stuttering, and then he’s slamming into you hard, once, twice — before spilling deep inside, thick and hot, filling you so much you feel it pooling inside.

But he doesn't stop.

Even after cumming, Jake keeps fucking into you, desperate little thrusts pushing it deeper, his cock still painfully hard from how ruined he is. "S-sorry — can’t stop — need you, need you, fuck—" he's whining and broken, face buried in your neck, breath hitching on every thrust.

You're gasping, trembling under him, brain fuzzy, body overstimulated and twitching from the relentless pace. Your pussy flutters around him helplessly, milking every last drop out of him.

"J-Jakey — ngh — too much—" you sob, clinging to his back.

"I know, I know. Fuck — just a little more, just a little more, wanna stay inside you forever —" he cries against you, hips still moving, slower now, grinding, as if trying to mark your insides.

Your bodies are a mess of sweat, cum, and desperate sobbed praises, and Jake doesn't even know where he ends and you begin anymore. His whole body is trembling. When he finally slows down enough to pull out — whimpering when he sees your pretty cunt leaking with his cum and immediately tries to grab a tissue from your nightstand with shaky hands.

You watch him, heart pounding, still dazed, still aching from how good he fucked you. Jake wipes you down so gently, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood, too scared to hurt you even though he just ruined you. He tosses the tissues in the trash and hesitates by the edge of your bed, eyes darting everywhere but at you.

Then he turns to leave. He actually turns, like he’s going to go.

Your sleepy hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him right back into your chest. Hugging him close. He lets out a little "oof," stumbling onto the mattress, cheeks flushed bright red. He’s stiff against you, nervous, breathing shallow like he thinks you’re going to kick him out or regret this. You wrap your arms around him tighter, burying your face into his hair.

And that’s when he speaks, voice cracking adorably, "Um... y/n, I, uh... I like you. Like, like-like you. A lot. Um... Do you maybe wanna go out with me sometime? No pressure, though.. If you don't want to, that's fine, I totally get it, I just, I just wanted to say it, so you knew—"

You pull back, glaring at him, completely fed up with how stupidly oblivious he is.

"Jake," you say, voice low and threatening.

He freezes. You called him Jake and not Jakey. A million thoughts go through his head, he's panicking, he's about to be rejected.

"If you don't get it through your head that I like you too, I swear to god I’ll suck you dry right now until you can't even think anymore."

Jake short-circuits. He makes the stupidest whimpering sound you've ever heard and immediately buries his face into your chest to hide. "F-fuck — y/n. You can’t — ngh, you can’t just say shit like that." Jake whimpers, voice wrecked and desperate, rutting his hips subtly against you like he can’t help it. "I can cum again if you want me to, fuck—"

You giggle breathlessly, running your fingers through his messy hair, pulling him even closer until he's basically lying on top of you like a big, whimpering puppy.

"I mean it," you whisper into his ear, smiling. "I like you, Jake."

He clutches you tighter, breathing a shaky sigh of relief.. Jake's heart is pounding so loudly that you can feel it through his chest. He nuzzles into you deeper, mumbling something incoherent, completely melted against you.

gooner!jake still can't believe you're dating him. Months later, not much had changed. He's moved out and said goodbye to his roommate but he still goes over to hang out all the time. He was still hopelessly obsessed with you, still got hard at the smallest things, still stole your panties when he thought you weren't looking, just to jerk off like a desperate freak. Except now?

Now, you always catch him.

Like tonight, you caught him red-handed again, laying back on your shared bed, your baby pink lacy panties fisted tight in one hand, his cock leaking against his stomach, whining your name into the fabric like a lovesick puppy.

"Jake," you scold softly, arms crossed, but your voice is fond.

He jolts, face flushing deep red. "I-I was gonna put them back! I swear!" he stammers, cheeks burning, cock twitching in his hand like it had a mind of its own. His eyes glisten like he's about to cry from the embarrassment. You sigh and walk toward him slowly, watching the way his eyes widen and follow your every move like he doesn’t deserve to touch you.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" you murmur, climbing into his lap. His hands immediately fly to your waist like instinct, needy and trembling.

"Can't — you're too pretty," he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut like it's physically painful to look at you. "You're perfect, and you're busy and — f-fuck, just wanna stuff you full all the time — wanna ruin you. Please, baby, let me —"

Jake's cock twitches violently between you, smearing precum against your thighs. You can feel how badly he's shaking underneath you, how he’s basically vibrating with the need to touch, to fuck, to have you. You roll your hips and he lets out the filthiest, neediest moan, hips jerking up against you helplessly. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping your waist, and he’s babbling again without realizing it. He never had to hide his disgusting behaviours with you, and for that, he's grateful. So fucking grateful.

"Thank you, thank you," he mumbles into your skin, hips stuttering up helplessly, "I’ll be good, I'll be so good for you."

And you just smile, knowing he already is.

from bloomiize: I'M FINALLY DONE!! I like this one a lot so hopefully you guys do too!! A lot longer than I intended whoops. this might be the last piece I do for gooner!jake but idk yet, maybe, maybe not LOL! I've grown quite fond of him. Thank u for reading and ur support! pls lmk what u think :3 reblogs and comments are appreciated ^^ love u guys <3

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[poisonofthepaint]

thinking of you

jack broke up with you because he said you needed someone younger. yet, he's still offended when he hears you're going on a date with someone else. you show up to his apartment to set the record straight.

cw: MDNI, make up sex to the max, pinv, no protection, kind of angsty but like not really, reader is independent and sort of snappy (for good reason), nipple sucking, pet names (angel, honey, sweetheart), not sure what else lmk if you see anything!

a/n: i wrote this off two beers so i'm gonna say i proofread it, but who knows...

wc: 2k

Jack didn't get pissed off. Sure, he would get mildly annoyed. He could snap. But he was never filled with unbridled rage. He could contain himself, calm himself down. He learned it in the military. He knew you couldn’t fight as well if you were angry, it clouded your judgement too much, you have to keep, at least a little bit, of a level head.

But tonight, Jack was pissed off. Robby had told him you had a date tonight. He told Jack over text, saying he, ‘figured he should know.” Jack couldn’t decide if he was thankful for the message or not.

That is what he said to you, when it ended. That you needed someone your own age. That you needed to get out there and act your age. It wasn’t good to work with someone and date them, act older than you need to. It was self-defense, he later realized. He was insecure about himself, and what he could or could not give you, so he ended it. He couldn’t believe you had listened to his incoherent ramblings. What he said made no sense, and he knew that now, but he also knew he had to take a step back and leave you the hell alone. He had fucked up, that was for sure. Begging for you back, when you had no reason to come back, would be even more fucked up.

He was regretting that mentality right now, all he wanted to do was call you. To tell you to come home. To come back to him. That guy didn’t know how to treat you, he didn’t know what you needed. He was only there to get in your pants. You were far too fucking intelligent for some immature douchebag. Jack knew what you needed, he was the only one who knew how to treat you right. He would give anything for you. This kid would not. Jack didn’t even need to know his name to know that.

Jack’s finger hovered over the call button on your contact. He tried to think of some emergency to get you to come see him instead of being on that date. But he couldn’t think of anything. There was no reason, fake or real, why you shouldn’t be on that date. 

He sighs, puts down his phone, sits in his recliner. His cushy chair, one of the only things he has splurged on in his life, faces the window, which overlooks the city. The buildings sparkle at him. It’s around seven, usually he’d be at work by now, but it was his day off. He wishes it wasn’t, he wishes that he had something to distract him. He thinks about grabbing his go bag, thinks about changing into what he wears under his scrubs and telling Shen and Ellis to just leave him the hell alone and let him work. But, he hears you in the back of his head, telling him to slow down, telling him to wait a moment, to sit with what he’s thinking instead of shoving it down.

So that’s what he does. He sits. And he thinks. And he fucking prays to whoever is listening. That you’re safe. That you’re having an okay time. That maybe you’ll come back. Even though he’s a piece of shit. Even though he’s the one who told you to leave. You’re just following his orders, after all. 

Three small, basically unhearable, knocks strike his door. He pushes off his chair with a sigh, thankful he didn’t take off his prosthetic yet. He figures it’s a neighbor, he lives by a lot of older women who tend to check up on him. 

He opens the door with a force, but his eyes get heavy when he realizes it’s you standing there. 

“Did he fucking hurt you?” Jack thunders.

“What? How do you even know where I was?”

“Answer me.”

“No, he didn’t hurt me. He just–”

“You’re scaring me a bit, sweetheart.”

You let out a long breath, Jack has both of his hands on your shoulders, giving you the eye exam of a lifetime.

“He didn’t hurt me, he’s just not you. He’s too, spritely. Too eager. I don’t know.”

Jack fights a smile, he bites the inside of his cheek. “No one is me.”

“Not the time to be fucking cocky, Jack. We need to seriously talk.”

The smile he was fighting fades from his face. He becomes pale, his heart is tachy. 

“You fucked me up real good. You told me I was wrong about something that felt so right–” you say, crossing your arms and staring. You’ve entered the apartment at this point. You stand at the island in the kitchen.

He cuts you off. “I was wrong. I’m wrong. You’re what I need. I need you more than I need work, and I’ve never said that about anything.” 

Jack swipes a hand over his face, crossing the room to come stand in front of you. “I was scared, I was being a fucking pussy. Worrying about what people would think, worrying about you.”

“I don’t need anyone to worry about me.” you state firmly.

“I know that. I know that. Please, give it another go with me. I won’t fuck it up. I won’t. I see what it’s like now. I see it. I hear it. Loud and clear.” he’s inches from your face, holding you at your hips. 

You don’t move just yet. Your eyes scan his, you're used to his eye contact by now. You’re searching for any signs of lying, any signs of unseriousness, but there isn’t any. Jack gives you a sharp nod. His eyes are so sharp, you think that they could cut daggers into yours.

You swiftly nod back, just once. Up and down. And that’s all it takes.

Jack’s lips are on yours before you can inhale. All teeth and tongue, he wastes no time showing you how much he missed you. The grip at your hips tightens, and he pulls you closer to him, so that your hips grind against his. So that your stomach can feel his abs through the worn gray cotton t-shirt he has on. You try not to notice that it’s the shirt you would sleep in when you slept over, but you do. Because he’s a sentimental man, because he’s obviously been punishing himself with his memories of you.

He comes up for air and shakes his head at you. “Thank you.” he kisses you again.

“Thank me?” you query.

“Thank you for coming back. You know what I need.”

“You know what I need. I never had to fucking ask for anything. You just knew. Before I did.” you admit.

“You know me too. You know me better than anyone does, angel.”

You pull his face back to yours. Eager to feel his lips after a long five months. 

He grabs your hips again, hoisting you up onto him. You wrap around his midsection. The friction from your jeans rubs you just right and you moan into Jack.  

“Tell me more,” is all he says in response. 

You groan. “I didn’t miss your old man jokes.”

“Yes you did, that’s why you’re here.”

He lays you back in the bed and doesn’t give you a chance to respond. The kisses become more fervent as he pushes the gym shorts off of himself. You make quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down, along with your underwear. 

You and Jack didn’t need to talk it through any more. You were on the same page. You just understood it. You two could go hours without speaking, and still say a million words to each other. 

It’s like at work, all you had to do was shoot him a look and he understood. When a patient wasn’t going to make it, when something suspicious was going on, when something hysterical was going on, but you couldn’t laugh. You didn’t need words to convey how you were feeling. And if your eyes weren’t going to tell him tonight, your cunt definitely was. You could feel yourself dripping onto his sheets. 

“I don’t think I have any condoms. I–” Jack’s eyes dance around his minimalistic bedroom.

“I don’t care. I’m clean, you’re clean. Please, I need it.”

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. He lines himself up, groans at the wet spot on the bed. And then he goes in. One long, deep, thrust. He bottoms out. You throw your head back onto the pillows before you’re reminded of his ‘thing’. Your eyes snap up at him and he grins. A cheshire smile. One that you couldn’t forget if you tried. 

His cock curves inside you like you’re two puzzle pieces. You clench around him until he has to ask you to let up.

He sets his pace. Long, deep, hard. Jack wasn’t one to fuck fast. He needed to enjoy it. To soak it all in. To feel you, to remember every inch of your walls. He wanted to always remember each individual fuck. What sets them apart? How did you look when you came this time versus the other fifty times? He once told you he thought about starting a sex journal so he could become the best at getting you off. 

Jack has about zero thoughts in his head that don’t surround around making you finish. He wants it like a prisoner wants an escape. He feels like he just saw his parole officer and they set him free, or put him on house arrest, he’s sure he’s not completely out of the dog house, but none of that matters to him now.

He’s inside you, and you’re making the noises he’s dreamt about every night since you left. “That’s it, pretty girl. That’s it.”

You clench again, hard. “I wanna– fuck– be on top.”

He doesn’t respond, just flips you over.

You straddle his waist and he pulls you in closer, sucking on your pert nipple. Jack guides your hips up and down before giving into what he really wants to do. 

Instead of moving you, he holds you still, opting to drive his cock up into you. You hiss, make a noise between a groan and a squeal. You bury your head into his shoulder and it moves you impossibly closer to him. 

He shifts so that one arm has a hold of your waist. The other comes between your two bodies, searching for your clit. He finds it, without looking, and rubs sharp circles that follow his pace on it. Your head flies back. 

“Fuck I’m—”

“Yup, me too, honey. C’mon, let me have it. Let it all go.”

You gasp at the feeling. It rushes out of you almost as soon as you recognize the tight knot in your stomach.  You can’t control your noises anymore, and neither can Jack.

He comes with you, burying his cock into your heat. He groans, over and over, and then pants.

You hum against him, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He moves so he can place a kiss on yours, a sweet one, to tell you you’re okay.

Neither of you make any effort to move, pleased to stay intertwined after being separated.

“What was his name?”

“Here come the questions. Can’t you let me enjoy this?”

“Never,” Jack quips. He shoots you a look, waiting for his answer.

“His name is Jack.”

His face turns pale, all jokes leave his brain, “You went on a date with someone who has my name?”

“I thought it would make the transition easier! I was hoping you wouldn’t ask!” you shake your head in shame. 

“How old was he?”

“Oh my god. That I am not answering. It doesn’t matter. The whole time I just thought about you, and your bullshit excuses for ending it. Telling me I need someone younger, c’mon.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Forgotten. We’re here now. Just don’t ever fucking do it again. I hate working day shift.” your face lights up. “Is that how you found out? Did Robby say something to you?”

Your mouth falls open at Jack’s cackling. 

“So old men gossip too, got it. This is fucked.” 

Jack shakes his head at you, calms himself down. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here.”

“You don’t have to. I know.”

[suuuupernovaaa]

what if

summary: joel lives and is HAPPY damnit

warnings: just watched ep2 (&3)and im so unbelievably sad and mad so im making a happy ending to cope - smut, 18+, FMC in her 30s, dirty joel, a hot gf who GETS THERE IN TIME

MASTERLIST

Hand on the doorknob, Ellie looks back to you, and you shake your head. Not yet, you want to tell her. Just listen. Just be quiet and assess what’s happening in the room.

You hear a shout inside, and you know it’s him. You know his voice as well as you know your own.

There’s multiple other voices, male and female, impossible to say how many are in there. Joel shouts again, and your body tenses up, your stomach churning.

While she turns the door knob, you press your back against the door, out of sight.

It’s a mess of action once she opens the door. Her gun fires, but it takes only moments before two men are on her, pinning her to the floor, though she does get a good swipe with her knife at one before she goes down.

You peer around the corner, just for a whisper, to take in the scene. Joel, with a bloody knee. A girl before him, hair braided, holding a golf club.

Two men holding Ellie down. At least two other women in the room, and Dina, on the floor. You don’t know from the doorway if she’s breathing or not.

They don’t know you’re there. They’re too stupid to have checked. So, you enter.

You fire a shot, straight through the neck of one of the men holding Ellie down, and the other falls away.

She’s up then, and fast, her gun back in her hand, or maybe it’s someone else’s gun. There’s screaming, so much screaming, but you can’t hear it. You can’t hear anything besides Joel yelling your names. His woman. His daughter.

Ellie’s shot two more, they’re on the floor, both men.

Two women in the room - one bald and one with curly hair - back away, their arms up, their weapons on the floor, Ellie aimed at them.

That leaves the golfer. You turn to her, weapon raised, and she steps closer to Joel.

“Not another fucking step,” you whisper, finger on the trigger. “I will blow your head off.”

She has the nerve to look angry instead of scared, but she’s smart enough to drop the golf club. You kick it away, never taking your eyes off her.

“Who are you? What the fuck are you doing?”

Her lips are pursed, her eyes red with tears and rage. She looks so normal, someone you wouldn’t recognize or remember.

“Joel?” you ask.

“I’m okay. I… killed her dad.”

“Salt Lake?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You fire. One bullet, to her heart. She drops down, and you step over her to Joel.

TWO MONTHS LATER

The ground is thawed out enough for burials to take place now. They’re burying dozens of dead. The wall is secured again, but people stare at it warily now.

They’ve seen it come down. They wonder if it will happen again.

You wake up in the middle of the night, when the moon is still high, with a scream in your throat and a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Baby, baby,” Joel is whispering next to you. You sit up, heart pounding. Joel reaches to his side of the bed for the water he keeps on his night stand, and hands it to you. You take a long drink, blinking the nightmare away.

“I’m here. I’m alive,” he reminds you.

The what if disturbs you sometimes. What if you and Ellie had been 5 minutes later. What if you had not come at all. What if, what if, what if Joel was dead.

He takes the empty water glass from your hands, and you’re on him when he turns back to you, kissing him with all the desperation you feel whenever you think of those what if’s.

What if the best thing you’d ever had was taken from you? What if Ellie’s dad had died before they could reconcile? What if, what if, what if.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m okay,” Joel mutters against your lips, and you’re pushing him down onto his back, climbing on top of him.

“I need to feel you, Joel,” you say desperately. “I need to feel that you’re here.”

His hands run up your back, under your tank top, his calloused hands on your hot skin, and you grind into him, making him moan.

“Whatever you need, sweetheart,” he says, and you reach down for him. He’s hard, always so hard for you, and you can feel you’re dripping wet, desperate to be filled by him.

It takes no time to remove your clothes, and you run your wet cunt up and down his hard length.

“God, Joel,” you moan, kissing his neck as he squeezes your ass.

“I’m here, baby,” he breathes, and slides into you.

It feels so full, so real, so fucking good. You place your hands on his chest, and look down at him as you begin to move, up and down. He never closes his eyes, always stares at you, always watches you when you ride him like this.

His fingers find your clit, moving over it expertly, and you cry out.

“Take what you need, baby,” he says, his voice dripping with need. “Take whatever you need.”

You just need him, to be sure he’s real and here with you. To feel him pulsing inside you, to bring you coffee in the morning, to be grumpy with you when he’s sore or tired. You just need Joel.

He brings you to an orgasm that makes you see stars, and finds his own release just seconds after, and you collapse on his chest.

He holds you then, tracing patterns on your bare back, both of you breathing so heavily with your eyes closed.

The what ifs always disappear in these moments when you are so connected to Joel. He’s here. He’s real. He’s not leaving you.

You won’t let anyone take him.

[swtheartz]

“ LIKE STRAWBERRIES. ” — M. Grayson

Part one Info : Suggestive content, implied spit kink, healer reader, reader is lowk oblivious, slow burn

W / C : 2k A / N : found the PERFECT strawberry divider off of pinterest from a rentry source i lit need to find it again because it’s sooo cute??? like what. anyway here’s ur guys’ treat eat up

You’ve noticed that Mark lingers.

Not even from a distance, either. No. He has to be a fucking weirdo about it. As pretty as he is, because handsome simply isn’t enough to describe him, he isn’t that bright when it comes to you. There is nothing subtle about it. Sam notices. Rex notices. And of course, Stedman notices. Everyone. Notices.

Except for Invincible himself.

And it pisses you off. Because for someone like him, he could at least be more aware outside of combat. You knew he was a dork, but not even you believed it to be this bad—it’s almost embarrassing. No, scratch that, it is embarrassing. Mostly embarrassing for you. Because Mark Grayson simply never. stops. staring.

Especially now.

“You redecorated,” Mark notes, staring at the newer posters on the wall and a new vase with honeysuckle placed inside as he sits on the usual bed you demand he sits on, waiting to be healed. “It’s nice.”

“If you don’t shut the hell up and let me work.” You groan, staring at the samples you’ve been testing. It’s something you’ve been working on for some time, a little over two months now. After accidentally crying over one of your plants, and yes it was because you’d been too busy to water it, you’d realized that it wasn’t just your hands that could heal. For now. . . You were limiting the experiments to tears.

Finding out new ways to cry was getting tiring, though. And your eyes hurt. If Stedman realized what you were working on, he’d be elated; in his own weird and subtle way. A more efficient approach to healing had been found simply because you forgot to water a plant.

To be fair, they were your prettiest African violets that you simply refused to let go of. And you could proudly say they were now thriving.

“What are you working on?” Mark questions, peeking over your shoulder as you test the percentage of how much is necessary for effective healing. You paused for a second, thinking about the fact you had a test subject right there. One that would be more than willing.

Slowly, you set down the tiny cup that had your tears mixed in with water, leaning back into our swivel chair with as calm of an expression that you could muster—before looking up at him through your lashes.

“Mark,” you hum sweetly, immediately, his eyebrows furrow. You’ve been calling him by his full name for half a year, and that was only because he begged you to stop calling him by Invincible for three weeks straight. The confusion in his face made you tilt your head, blinking innocently.

“I need you to test something for me. Nothing life threatening, unfortunately, but it is important. And I would rather be roasted on a spit than have anyone else test it.”

“. . . I feel like you’re trying to poison me.”

“If I wanted to do that,” you smile, grabbing a cup with a higher potency, “I would have done it the second time around when you ended up here. Just drink this.”

Mark takes the cup from your hand, incredulous and curious all at the same time. It’s clear that he’s going over his options here, and he’d much rather die than let someone else be your lab rat, you know that much. A sigh leaves him as he drinks it, and he blinks.

“It’s just water.” He mumbles, confused. It must be tasteless, maybe a little salty, but probably not even noticeable. At first, you think it’s a failure, before he makes a noise and that new gash on his cheek mends itself back together, the bruise on his neck from basically being choked fades away in a matter of moments. Not as quick as your usual method, but still effective and efficient.

The result is satisfying. Though, you sit in your chair and think about how you should’ve given him a lower dose just to study it for a little longer. Regardless, it’s still the effect of you, and that is more than enough in your eyes. Just. . . You didn’t want to waste time trying to make yourself cry and mixing it with water, just to heal some wounds on heroes that could surely wait it out. Heal naturally.

“What was that?” He seems almost dazed, still confused, but somewhat fascinated.

“My tears mixed with some water.”

“Wha-? Your tears? I just drank your tears?”

“I’m gonna try spit next time you come here,” you say absentmindedly, writing something down so you can store away the data for later and even more research. You believe you gave him some that had twenty five percent? Something like that. It’s a rough estimate, but a little more practice and you’ll get something more accurate. No, you don’t notice the way Mark nearly chokes on air at your blunt statement, having to stop himself from making any more noise.

He doesn’t want to ask if you’re serious or not. Knowing you, you’d just stare blankly at him and tell him to figure it out, so instead, he slowly nods and sits back down, finally letting you work in silence as he spaced out.

The next time he does end up there, you decide it’s perfect to test your newer mixture. Arguably, it’d worked pretty good on another plant that you had sacrificed, even better than it did on your beloved violets. It was nothing but a fern, but the result was amazing.

You were excited to see the results on a human. Hell, the first time you’d felt actual excitement in forever. This was, for the first time in a long time, something new. Saliva was most definitely your limit in this little experiment of yours, however, and then you’d let Stedman know of your discoveries after.

After—you have your fun with your annoying fucking lab rat.

“Are you sure this is safe? You could, you know, always heal me the usual way?”

“Mark, are you saying I have a nasty mouth?” You stare at him, holding the small plastic cup in your hand. You’d had the decency to mix it in with water, the same as you did with your tears, and figured he wouldn’t even taste it. The way he softens up as you say his name is something you can’t miss. But it is something you can ignore.

He shakes his head and sighs, but still seems reluctant.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. If my tears worked just fine, then I’m pretty sure this will too; this is just for confirmation at best.”

Mark stares for a few moments, before he ultimately takes the cup and stares at it. Now, usually, you can read him quite easily. He’s the type to have the worst poker face known to man, and you’re not quite used to the almost contemplative look on his face. It’s quiet for a few moments, before he drinks it.

Slowly.

Your nose scrunches at that, because whether or not he realizes it, he’s drinking it at what you consider a snail’s pace for no reason. Still, you say nothing, simply crossing your arms across your chest as he finishes. As you thought, the effect is much more immediate than it was with your tears. Quicker. Comparable to when you use your hands. A good result—hell, an even better result than you expected.

He takes a second, before shrugging. “Tastes like water.”

“It’s supposed to, dipshit.”

“Strawberries.”

“Yeah.”

“You were grocery shopping,” You glance between him and the random two pound container of strawberries he’d given you, dark red and ripe. “And decided that it’d be a good idea to get your coworker. . . Strawberries.”

Mark exhales, mask and goggles still on, yet you can tell he’s pouting.

“I would prefer it if you just called us friends.”

“We’re coworkers, Markus. And even calling us that is pushing it,” You roll your eyes, opening the container and staring at one of the larger, darker strawberries that looked just perfect enough to bite into. But you had some decorum. You were gonna go home, wash these, let them soak,  and try not to eat them in one sitting. You don’t like how well Mark has started to understand what your tastes were. Especially when you had made it such a point not to tell him anything.

“Mark. Just, for the love of whatever god is out there, call me Mark.”

“I condemn you, Grayson. I curse you.” The groan that leaves him at the fact he’s seemingly downgraded from his full first name back to last name nearly makes you crack a smile, but you refrain from doing so. Letting him know that you didn’t want him to perish in the slightest would make him want to be around more, and you needed to work, and you can’t work with a 5’11” man with pure muscle constantly in your personal space.

The GDA was swamping you with more patients, more frequent incidents, and now you feel like an office worker; which, as stupid as it sounds, is what you were trying to avoid by working here. What you hoped to avoid, because you were different. You were a goddamn healer.

The two of you stare at each other—at least, you’d like to believe it’s a staring contest. You can’t tell if he’s looking or not, but he sure can tell with the way you purposely hold eye contact, not even daring to look away. Like he deserved to be scolded for thinking about you when he saw some fruit.

“Would you have, I don’t know, preferred peaches or something?” Mark’s question is genuine, and he’s the one pinching the bridge of his nose this time, like a disappointed parent. You scowl at that. Again, you plop down in your swivel chair, glaring at him as you cross your legs.

He knows the answer to that. No, you wouldn’t have preferred peaches, even though you have a tendency to inhale any fruit placed in front of you. Strawberries were, frankly, put on a pedestal by you. It undeniably showed, and you didn’t like that one bit. You didn’t like being able to read. And while it isn’t your fault that he stubbornly refused to leave your side, refuses to stop analyzing and staring at you, you’re still upset.

“I want you out. I have work.”

“You always have work!”

“Of course I always have work, do you see what my job is?! You know what, I’m gonna feed these to your little brother in front of you, and then I’m gonna withhold him from you for the rest of the week.”

“His name is Oliver, memorize names. Please, just memorize names and use them,” he pleads, pulling his goggles and mask off with an exasperated noise.

“Oh, I know everyone’s names. And their birthdays, including yours.” You state bluntly, waving your pencil at him, “I just don’t care. I want you to know how stupid your hero name is, too.”

“To hell with you.”

“I cursed you first!”

Later on, Mark watches as Oliver eats the slice of strawberry shortcake you’d given him after the incident with the Mauler twins, which you’d given him in exchange for a promise that he’d listen to his older brother. He watches as Cecil takes you purposely out of earshot, watches the two of you argue, watches Cecil end the argument on his terms and walk away while you give a resigned shake of your head.

Later on, Mark can catch the scent of strawberries coming from your ward as you work late at night, and he smiles to himself. He remembers the taste of that diluted water you’d given him, uncaring for the healing factor of it.

He was more focused on the fact that you tasted like strawberries.

TAG LIST : @lxluvsmoney @koilikesthefishy @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha @tokoyamisstuff @pookiei-bookie @treeteaofversailles

[kbb306]

1. No, but she would have liked one.

2. She has a little sister and first aid training. She'll be fine.

3. ".....tall."

4. Eh, maybe maroon?

5. She would absolutely give a speech defending her father. He's....not the brightest and they both know it, so she overcompensates.

6. She trusts her best friend Ellie Otten unconditionally. She doesn't have any hard "no" for this, except when it comes to asking her dad about romance.

7. Impulsive, yet stubborn./"Only three words? What kind of question is that?"

8. There's a whole thing about puzzles with her family. Best not to ask.

9. Depends what your definition of "non-sentient" is.

10. A few years ago, she'd have said "old enough for medical school." Now that she has a little sister, she's starting to miss childhood.

11. "I would pay for a medical scholarship."

12. Romance weirds her out (unless it's Jay)

13. "Never let a bully know they've gotten to you."

14. Jay Pinkerton (she's still struggling to accept she falls as fast and hard as her dad once did), singing.

15. Playing nice with people she doesn't like

16. Michigan is near constant sweater weather. Not a lot of concern for fashion in a small town like Eaden anyway.

17. She'll protect children with everything she has. It kills her that ABIGAIL actually wants to stay in That Place.

18. "Tongue? How would that even- ew!"

19. "It doesn't matter how much I study. Logarithms will never be a thing that people actually need, and they will never make any sense."

20. Jazz music (or at least, the town's reaction to jazz music)

21. If anyone actually knows her father and STILL thinks he could be dangerous, that's a deal breaker. I almost wrote a scene like that.

22. Not really a pet name, but her dad's nicknames for her are a treasured memory.

23. Yearns for novelty, knows they need stability. Her family has a big secret to keep.

24. Doesn't spare anyone's feelings but her family's (usually)

25. See #23

26. Effort, all the way. You think a five year old who just fell out of a tree has any real talent for medicine? Dr. Dillon patching her up back then is what *inspired* her, but the skill was all worked for ever since then.

27. Understanding. Forgiveness is earned.

28. If Wheatley's opinion of Jay counts, yes.

29. Aperture. More recently, that time she accidentally shut her own life support off.

30. If taking GLaDOS down wouldn't devastate the little girl She somehow adopted, Sophie would *destroy* Her on behalf of the whole family.

Read more about Sophie here:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3192879

oc asks that reveal more than you think

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Ask them to describe their love interest.

Do they look good in red?

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

What age do they most want to be right now?

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Name one thing their parents taught them.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear?

Do they like children?

Kissing: tongue or no tongue?

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews?

What do they like that nobody else does?

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Stability or novelty?

Honesty or charity?

Safety or possibility?

Talent or effort?

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?

Would they date a fixer-upper?

What recurring dreams do they have?

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

[livinghalfway]

Bury Him with the Roses Pt. 2

Masterlist

Summary: Damian learns that his twin is alive only to learn that he was dead and buried a few hours before his impromptu arrival to the Fenton household. When he goes to visit Danyal's final resting place he finds two individuals digging up his brother's grave.  Word Count: 1129

A four hour flight. 

His brother was only a four hour flight away, and yet it has been five years since they’ve last seen each other. Damian isn’t sure why Danyal hasn’t reached out to him. Sure, his brother did not get to learn the name of their father, but there is no way he was able to avoid the Wayne name. Danyal must have seen the announcement of him joining the family, or at least a picture of him with them after all these years. 

The town had some kind of media block, but that only pertained to hiding information coming out of Amity Park, not going in. It was frankly a miracle that Damian even found the article about the gorillas. 

Whoever put the block up was good admittedly, but there was nothing Oracle couldn't crack into. A single crack in the wall, and it all came crumbling down. 

The "ghost" attacks, the GIW, Phantom,  but most importantly the Fenton's. So much information was now available to them, and yet the only thing he searched for was the address of his brother's home. That was the only thing that mattered. 

Which is why Damian finds himself in the Wayne private plane not even an hour later with his Father and Dick sitting next to him. The others stay behind to look after Gotham, and investigate more about the strangeness of Amity Park. While making sure to give them any useful information about the Fenton’s they find.

From what has been found so far doesn’t paint the most stable of households, and Damian has every intention of taking Danyal home with them when they leave for Gotham.  He’s … he’s excited to show his twin the life he’s built; that he has changed for the better from the boy that he once was. 

“So, Damian,” Dick snaps him out of his thoughts, “What was Danyal like? With all the chaos I don’t think anyone got the chance to ask about him.”

With this question Bruce becomes much more attentive to what is happening around him. In a voice far too soft for Damian as he speaks nostalgically about his twin and their youth, “Danyal was as skilled with a blade as he was kind. Ra’s did everything he could to take that gentle nature from him, but nothing ever phased him. Despite striving in the league, it was obvious how much he hated being there. … He would have loved it in the manor.” 

“He still has plenty of time to make the manor a home.” Dick reassures him. “It sounds like you really admire him.” 

A humorless laugh escapes his throat at those words. “I hated him. Danyal was so much better than I was, and yet he never cared for Ra’s or Mother’s approval. By the time I truly recognized that we were never meant to be rivals he was already gone.” 

Damian hopes that with this second chance he’ll be able to make up for all the years spent being jealous of the only other person who truly knows what his childhood was like. Someone who should have been a confidant was instead seen as nothing more than a competitor. 

He knows why Danyal didn’t reach out, it’s because of him. Damian’s sure of it. 

“Dami, do you care about Danyal?” 

“...Yes.” 

“Then just talk to him. I’m sure you two can get through this together.” 

Damian hopes so; he wants to get to know his brother. He’s not going to miss out on this second chance to do so. 

-

It’s late by the time the three of them finally reach the Fenton household; the sun is already beginning to set. 

The building itself looks like one big safety hazard. Damian is honestly surprised that it’s liveable. Walking up to the front door he notes just how filthy the doorstep is. Dirt covered shoes and gloves lay littered about. He silently takes note of all of this as Bruce knocks firmly on the door. 

To everyone else you would think the man is as cool as ice, to Damian though he can recognize the signs of nervousness and worry coming from his Father. No doubt feeling unsteady from the fact that they have the bare minimum amount of information for what they’re about to walk into.

Heavy footsteps can now be heard from inside now. 

When the door opens it is to the face of Danyal’s adoptive father, Jack Fenton. The man looks tired; his shoulders are slumped and a melancholy smile graces his face. 

“Oh! Bruce Wayne? Hello! Is there anything I can do for you folks?” Jack asks as he looks between the three of them, obviously confused by their presence. His eyes widen when his gaze lands on Damian. “Danny?”

“That’s actually what we’re here to talk about,” Bruce clears his throat before continuing. “It was recently discovered that my son Damian and Daniel could possibly be twins. We’re here to confirm if that is true or not.” 

Strangely Jack looks almost relieved at those words.”Come- come inside.This conversation might be better done inside.” 

As they are led inside towards the living room Jack calls out for his wife Madeline that they have guests; notably not calling for Danyal as well. While they get situated in their seats Damian takes this time to take a look around the room for signs of his brother. 

He sees photos of his twin all along the walls, in most of them he was standing next to the Fenton's daughter, Jasamine. As he looks through his eye eventually notices a red blossom of some sort lying innocently under one of the side tables. 

It’s unlike any flower he’s ever seen before. Just as he’s about to ask about it, Madeline finally joins them in the living room as well. Her eyes widened too once looking at Damian. It looks like she’s about to say something, but before she can Jack quickly whispers something in her ear. 

Dick, who is sitting next to him, gently squeezes his shoulder as the Fentons sit across from them, and is the first to speak up, “Should we wait and get Danny to join us before we start this?”

The two Fenton’s look towards one another with pained expressions; a silent conversation occurs between them at that moment. After a few tense seconds Madeline quietly speaks up, “That … will not be necessary. Danny is- We- I’m sorry to be the one to tell you after you’ve traveled all the way here, but Danny is no longer with us, in fact we laid him to rest just a couple hours ago.” 

At those words Damian knows that he had just lost his second chance to reconcile with his brother. 

[frozenartscapes]

The new Spy x Family chapter is still working in favour of my Shopkeeper headcanons. I always figured he had a soft spot for Yor, and on the surface their relationship seems about the same as it always has. However, I'm focusing on the code names. The two other new assassins are Hemlock and Gympie (both of which are dangerous plants - very subtle). They just have the one name they go by, but Yor's is a two parter: Thorn Princess. She could just be Thorn, which would fit the theme. But the added "Princess" part softens the name (not in a bad way, mind you - but rather than draw to mind a prickly thorn bush the "Princess" part makes one think of roses).

My theory is this: Shopkeeper is shown to have interest in the Imperial history of the area, right? So he's already influenced by ideas of royalty and holds that bygone era in high regard. When meets little, desperate child Yor and is trying to come up with a codename for her, he realizes he can't give this painfully innocent kid a harsh assassin name. So he adds "Princess" after "Thorn". Maybe once she becomes hardened and emotionless like the rest of them, he'll drop the "Princess" title. But she never does - she stays positive and warm and kind (just like a Princess from fairytales) and he just can't train it out of her. Her kindness never actually interferes with her work, so he leaves it.

And as a result, in his Garden full of poisonous and stinging plants, he's got one bright red rose.

(Side note about the other code names: Gympie Gympie bushes are some of the world's most venomous plants and hurt like a bitch to touch. Like, nettles on steroids. They cause severe, long-lasting pain if just lightly brushed against, which could imply that Gympie may have slightly different doctrine on allowing victims to suffer than Yor. Hemlock, on the other hand is incredibly toxic from roots to seeds and is known to grow in a variety of different environments. It doesn't hurt you to touch it, but it will kill you if you ingest it. Hemlock is famous for killing Socrates (as it was a method of execution used by ancient Greece). Hemlock - the agent - seems to be what Yor should be: a cold, calculating assassin with very little value for any life, regardless of how beneficial they may be. The choice of code name could suggest their complete lack of mercy (and - possibly - an anti-intellectualism viewpoint related back to the whole Socrates thing. They didn't understand the point of a ladybug in a garden, of all things. I know not everyone knows about ladybugs but with a boss who is obsessed with gardening you would think the agents would at least be aware).

[jeannahas]

The day was cold. It was one of those dead, dry kinds of days, when the clouds just kind of... sit there, while wind stiffly crossed the grasslands with barely a care in the world. Stripping away heat. Stripping away moisture.

And the whole time, the entire world sat the same color as an old leather boot left out in the rain far too many times before the sun has had its way with it.

None of that mattered, as I broke through the last wall, as I set alight on the roof of the warehouse.

"Our intel assures us that Obsidian has taken position at the top of the warehouse, hostiles are suspected to have taken most of the town, you should be coming up from his underground network somewhere in Kansas, Starhold."

I grunted, then shoved my way to the rubble, fixing my eyes on the rooftop before me.

He stood there, of course. Imperious. Confident as ever in his crystaline black armor. Smug.

Standing over a body.

My heart ran cold.

"You're too late, Hero. The great Starhold, brought low, delayed. I told you I would do it, if you did not comply. If you resisted my efforts. You hid her well, you fought well, you resisted my ever attempt to waylay you - but you still did not accept my terms. And in the end, your defenses were insufficient. Each turret, each wall, each barrier you put in my way, but a trivial roadblock on the path to delivering you the consequences of your resistance."

I stood still as a statue; eyes locked on her face. Eyes blank, staring up at an uncaring sky. The wind pulled at those auburn curls, I thought of how long she took each morning making sure they sat exactly how she wanted them, how she pouted when I teased her.

She was still wearing her work-clothes. The simple grey suit and white blouse. Her office clothes. She'd been taken from her office. How long had she been tormented, before he killed her? Blood still trickled onto the roof. Minutes, it had been just minutes.

"I had to sacrifice a great deal to take her from you, to prove my superiority, but in the end well... we see how that turned out. Your star-born grace was not nearly enough to save her."

The villain snapped his fingers. Hovercraft lifted up from the grassy knolls surrounding the town, armored henchmen carrying some kind of advanced rifle began to pour out of the buildings, their weapons whining as they prepared to fire.

I reached up numbly, and pulled the earpiece out of my ear, pocketing it.

I didn't see any of my nemesis's prepararions, as my pulse roared in my ears, as my fingers twitched - once. Obsidian lifted his hand, ready to signal his men to fire.

"Congratulations." I whispered into the wind.

My erstwhile nemesis blinked in shock.

"What?"

"You did it, you finally broke me."

The villain before me sneered, comically crooked teeth twisted in triumph as the whisper reached his ears, he even opened his mouth to monologue - at least until I continued speaking.

"No more Hero. No more Mercy. No more sparing wanton criminals. I've had... enough."

His eyes widened for a moment, and I snapped my fingers as the muscles in my jaw twitched. The effect was immediate. Everyone knew that my abilities were in some way connected to the stars. Hence my name. What I had never done though was exert myself completely. Tap into the loosest interpretation of those abilities. They had seen the blinding light. They had seen the searing heat, they had seen the radiation, the vitality. The speed at which I flew through the air.

Stars, however, do something extremely important, they keep planets reigned in check, through sheer mass.

With that snap of my fingers, a perfect circle of space around the tower suddenly crushed in on itself. The three hovercraft slammed into the ground with enough force they flattened into oblong disks. Each minion, guard, soldier, or whatever the fuck they were on the ground flattened into a red paste as gravity multiplied in an instant. Each building around us except for the one we stood on flattened to dust in the blink of an eye. Every tree, every plant, every bush, car, trash can, rock, or pebble instantly sank into the ground, as the rock beneath our feet itself gave way, crushing in on itself, sinking under the obliterating weight I forced upon the world.

My nemesis' eyes widened. I took my eyes off of my finance's body for the first time since i had made it to the roof. I could see in his expression that he realized just how badly he had fucked up. That he realized how few of my cards I had actually revealed.

He tried to take a step back, and I cocked my head sideways. His boot- and just his boot, experience the same crushing gravity, sinking an eighth of an inch into the concrete roofing, pinning him in place.

"What is it?" I asked softly. "Did you think that I was fighting you with everything I had? Did you think you knew me because we fight so often?"

I took a step forward, barely touching the ground as arcs of plasma began to snap off of me, echoes of the rage and agony I forced out of my voice.

"I've avoided casualties for so long... I've stuck to the rules for so long... I've trusted those who make the prisons they shove your lot in to do their fucking jobs for so long... no longer. How many lives have you taken? How many lives have I LET YOU TAKE?"

I glanced down at her. Her perfection. Now lifeless. Ash on the winds of death.

"No. You won't hurt anyone ever again. None of you will."

The supervillain brought his hands together, and a beam of violet light lanced through the air, slamming against my skin, corroding it, corrupting it, cells falling away even as new ones healed into place.

I didn't care.

I snapped my fingers again. The light sputtered, and stopped.

He fell to the ground clutching his chest in pain. He resisted for a moment. I didn't have the energy to be impressed. I just pushed harder.

He screamed in agony, as his clothing began to pull in towards his chest, as his supernaturally strong body fought to maintain its shape. A few pebbles around him began to drift his way.

"You broke my heart, Obsidian. Enjoy meeting yours up close and personal. Goodbye."

He screamed one last time, then folded with a crunch, as his limbs, head, and extremities crushed inwards with a series of excruciatingly brief but extremely sickening snaps.

The fist sized chunk of matter that remained dropped to the ground.

I said nothing. I did nothing. For a long time. I pulled the earpiece from my pocket, and inserted it back into my ear.

Static fizzled for amoment, then I heard the voice of my handler, Seargent Lewis.

"Can you hear me now? Starhold, are you alright? We lost all signatures but yours in the target area, what happened? Do you copy?"

I said nothing, as I removed my earpiece, crushed it to dust in my fist, and scooped up the love of my life, cradling her as tears fell from my eyes.

I would bury her, in that field she liked, with all the trees.

Then.

Oh...THEN.

They would pay.

They would ALL pay.

Seargent Lewis Brand stared at the scene. He didn't have any words. General Handolfer stood at his side.

Devastation.

A single building remained, in the town that Starhold had been sent to in order to stop Obsidian. A warehouse. A perfect circle exactly two meters out from the edge of the west side of the building still stood, miraculously. Everything else...

"Was obsidian found?" Seargent Brand asked the superhero who floated towards him, covered head to toe in mechanical devices and equipment he could never begin to understand.

The man winced.

"It's not pretty."

"Show me."

The superhero paused, then gestured to his companion, a lower ranked superhero with some degree of super-strength. He lifted a ball, about the size of a softball or so.

"What's this?"

"Obsidian."

"What's left of him?"

The floating superhero, Tech, shook his head.

"We scanned the area. This... contains every atom that once comprised the supervillain formerly known as Obsidian. Plastics, metallics, organics, and a few inorganic minerals, all...." Tech pointed to the object. "Right there. Two hundred and thirty pounds, The estimated weight of obsidian in his standard equipment."

"What else was found?" General Handolfer asked, face pale.

"Seventy-three others. In the disc of compressed land around us. Not nearly as compressed, it was more like they had suffered about, fifty G's, all at once."

Handolfer turned to Seargeant Lewis.

"Has Starhold ever displayed gravitational abilities?"

Seargent Lewis looked out at the devastation.

"No."

The cold wind blew.

A radio sputtered to life somewhere among the group who stood at the edge of a three meter drop to the ground below, where the ground of the old region had been compressed to. A soldier ran up to the general and his subordinate.

"It's the prison!"

"What about it?"

"It's been destroyed!"

Both men turned to look at the man.

"What?"

"How?"

The soldier shook his head.

"I don't know - we only got a brief message, six words."

"And?"

The man swallowed.

"The full message was : Prison Destroyed: Starhold Killed them ALL."

Silence ruled amid oppressive grey skies.

General Handolfer turned to the fist-sized chunk of matter that used to be a supervillain with a sigh.

"Congratulations Obsidian.

"You finally broke him."

Congratulations: You did it. You finally broke me. No more Hero. No more sparing criminals. I’ve had enough." With a snap of your fingers, the army of goons just... vanishes. Leaving you alone with your Nemesis and the dead body of your fiancé.

[hedwig221b]

Kinda random but do you know any fics where Derek calls Stiles baby or sweetheart (or something similar) and Stiles gets all flustered?

Can I offer you, like, my entire collection lmao 😭💖 It's baby, sweetheart, angel, kitten, sunshine... I love pet names

tbh when you mention sterek and pet names, siand is the first who comes to mind. Like, truly, a sterek pet name connossieur, and the one who got me addicted to 'kitten' as a pet name for Stiles

Tax Evasion by standinginanicedress

Stiles chews on his thumb a bit harder, and for a second he thinks about saying no. He thinks about letting the whole thing go and just going back to his life, the safe and easy way out. He considers just settling for someone who’ll never really get him, some boring guy who touches him the wrong way and buys him flowers sometimes. He’s been doing it for years upon years, now, and really, what’s a little bit longer? And then, what’s the rest of his life? What’s the worst that could happen, he wonders? Trying something is better than not trying at all.

Stars and Their Meanings by standinginanicedress

"You’re older,” Stiles begins counting, on his index, “you’re bad news,” on his middle, “you were recently accused of murder,” ring, “and we have not a damn thing in common,” his pinky. “I mean, come on. You just want to mess around with me if you want me at all.” “Mess around with you?” Derek shakes his head, like that blows his mind. “What is that supposed to mean?” Stiles waves his hand. “Like, ohh, you’re a bad boy, and I’m the Sheriff’s son, so it’s all so hot. I get it.”

Helen of Troy by standinginanicedress

Stiles can fake laugh, fake smile. He can play coy and he can be demure and barely eat anything in front of them, and he can sit still and do his little song and dance of feigning interest. But this is a little out of his scope. They want him to fully become someone else. They want him to be who everyone wants him to be, and it scares the shit out of Stiles, because he doesn’t know if he can do it for hours and hours while cameras watch his every single move. It’s a lot. It’s more than he bargained for.

You're My Sanctuary by lilmissdaydreamer

The Argent Wolf Sanctuary. It’s been Stiles’ dream since he was five years old to work with the wolves, ever since his mother took him up there to see the magnificent creatures on one of their ‘full moon runs’ that the Sanctuary does once a month. The wolves are beautiful and much larger than Stiles would’ve thought, or at least, the newest wolf is. The owner had said he’s a special breed. Stiles just didn’t realize quite how special he is.

You Were Already My Baby by SterekLoverForEver

Stiles would like to preface that he is NOT dating Derek. Even if Stiles wishes with all his heart, he knows he never has a chance with Derek. Stiles has seen such a positive change in Derek in almost 2 years of knowing him, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of his progress. Stiles has seen the hard work and dedication Derek has put in, Derek has become the most kind and special alpha the pack loves and relies on. Stiles knows that Derek has worked on uniting the pack together as well as developing a bond with each member of the pack. Derek has been able to level with each member and have their own unique friendship because he wants to be someone each member can turn to. While Stiles and Derek’s friendship may look different from the others, it’s only a friendship. So despite what others may say, Stiles would definitely know if he was in a relationship with the most perfect specimen that is Derek Hale. Or 6 Times (I couldn't help myself) Stiles Didn't Know He and Derek Were Dating + 1 Time He Did

Stay by wulfarchival (wyrmwolf)

In which Stiles just wants to loose his virginity and goes to The Jungle to do just that. But instead gets himself a hot Dom and a werewolf boyfriend. Except, he just doesn’t know about the werewolf part. Yet.

Baby by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)

When Stiles was fifteen, he dubbed Derek Sourwolf, and unfortunately for Derek, the name stuck. In retrospect, Derek didn't really mind all that much, especially if it was a breathless whimper in his ear. Funny thing is, Derek didn't have a pet name for Stiles.

The Arrangement by Arver7

Through blackmail and lies, Stiles and Derek are forced into a marriage neither of them wanted. If they each want to survive each other, they must learn to coexist. But the more they get to know each other, the more they seem to care about each other. But will the lies stop them from falling in love?

Other fic recs: angsty fics + pt2 + pt3 | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious Stiles | oblivious sterek | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | feral Stiles | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic | void!Stiles | sheriff dissaproves | Stiles doesn't know about werewolves | soft fics | hales love stiles | somnophiIia | secret relationship | childhood friends |

[snoopyracing]

rivals // ln4 & op81

part one

pairing: lando norris X oscar piastri X reader

word count: 7k

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, slight suggestive content, lando X oscar content

summary: challengers!au.... when ferarri’s princess is forced to retire at the peak of her career she finds herself lost with no purpose. racing was all she had ever known and it was ripped right out from under her with no warning. feeling hopeless she pours her passion back into mentoring oscar piastri— mclaren’s reigning champion. old feelings emerge, rivalries reach their breaking point, and ex-teammates show up when oscar least expects it. yet all y/n wants to see is some good fucking racing.

a/n: so excited about this series omg!! please let me know what you all think!!

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The rumble of twenty V6 engines, pit crews and TV presenters talking, last minute checks over the car, fans roaring– it’s all background noise as you’re sat snugly in the cockpit of your race car, waiting for the formation lap to start. You close your eyes and take a couple deep breaths, grounding yourself as you try to prepare for the next heart pounding adrenaline inducing two hours. Your body relaxes and you allow yourself to enter racing mode, your senses are heightened, mind sharper than a tack. When you open your eyes you only see a clear track in front of you and a navy blue Red Bull to the left of you. 

It was time.

If the giant Rolex branded clock didn’t confirm it for you then that static in your ear piece followed by 30 seconds till formation from your race engineer Alice did. You’re second on the starting grid, with Verstappen in front of you and your teammate Leclerc right behind him, you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. Not to mention that you’re in Monza this weekend, so a Ferrari 1-2 is the ultimate goal. Your visor comes down and your hands grip the wheel as the formation lap starts. 

When you line back up on the grid you take one last final breath and wait for the famous five lights. The little red lights that let you know it’s time to unleash every ounce of talent, of wheel knowledge, everything you’ve got to be the first one to see the checkered flag waving. 

The lights go out and away you go.

It’s an amazing start off the line from you and you’re able to quickly get past Max and become the new race leader, an advantage that you’re glad to have had considering Monza isn’t the easiest track to overtake on.

Beautiful Y/N - your race engineer's soothing voice fills your ears and for a second you can breathe, but it doesn’t last long because you know you’ve got Max Verstappen behind you. The man who will make a move if he sees the slightest opportunity and you know you’ve got to defend this position with your life. It makes you feel a little better knowing he’s got Charles behind him to keep him busy, but this is Formula 1 and things could change in the blink of an eye. 

You’d held the lead beautifully for a quarter of the race, but on lap 15 of 53 you hear box box over the radio. 

Seriously? You question back, knowing this was not the plan you’d gone with in your meeting this morning– or the other five million that Ferrari insisted on having. You wonder if maybe you’d been pushing too hard and ate away at the tires, but you knew that wasn’t true. Tire whisperer was your middle name and from what you could tell you still had a good amount of laps left on these babies. 

Yes, box now. Alice’s voice is firm and the pit lane is fast approaching, so you obey orders and pull into the pit lane entry. It’s an insanely fast pit stop, but when you come back out onto the track and see that you’d been undercut by Max you’re immediately pressing the radio button. 

Real nice pit stop timing– plan C is what I want now. 

We don’t think that’s possible at this moment.

Well I’m making it possible.

Even though Max had undercut you, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’re not winning this race. You were leading this championship for a reason– you were the best and it was as simple as that. A little undercut wasn’t going to ruin this race, especially when these tires were going to last you for the remaining 38 laps. 

It was crazy, you know, but taking risks was something you had to do in the world of Formula 1. So, you grip the steering wheel, take a deep breath as best as you can, flip Max the bird as you pass him and become one with your car. 

On lap 45 of 53 you no longer see Max Verstappen in a Red Bull behind you in your mirrors, but the all too familiar red colored car reflecting back at you. As the laps wind down you can actually start to hear how loud the crowd is and when you’re the first to see the checkered flag you know tonight is going to be a night you won’t forget. 

The crowd is electric, actually it’s more than electric. It's indescribable as you step out of the cockpit and carefully onto the top of the car that’s parked in front of the P1 placard. Your pointer finger proudly showing off your number one position to the multiple cameras pointed in your direction. Waves and kisses are blown towards the crowd before you’re quickly running over to your team and jumping into their arms over the barricades that are set up. Praises fill the air and when Charles finally comes over to the team it’s an even bigger celebration. You embrace your teammate, both of you congratulating each other before focusing back on the people who make all of this possible.

The cool water that awaits you at your pedestal feels better than winning for a brief second, your helmet and extra gear already ripped off you as you chug it down like liquid gold. 

“You’re one crazy motherfucker you know that?” A familiar Dutch accent fills your ears as he pats you on the back. 

“Just a casual Sunday drive for me.” You shrug your shoulders at Max, a smirk splayed across your lips as the bottle of water hovers near your mouth. 

A team member directs you towards the area where the pre podium interviews will be held before you can discuss anymore with Max. A Ferrari cap sits atop your sweaty head as you speak with David Coulthard— your smile beaming as the adrenaline still courses through your veins. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say about your drive out there today. Was a one stop the plan all along or was that something you just ended up doing?”  

The crowd is so loud you can barely hear him, the massive Ferrari flag waving in the grandstands behind him only adds to the atmosphere. “Yeah, I mean it wasn’t anyone’s favorite plan, but I knew when I came back out onto the track that these tires were gonna last me till I saw that checkered flag wave and they did. So I think that speaks for itself don’t you?” 

He asks a few more general questions, but all you can think about is that podium and the feeling of the biggest trophy in your hands. “Always a pleasure talking to you and seeing you on that top step. Congratulations again Y/N.” 

You give him a kert thank you before booking it to the cool down room and preparing yourself for the impending celebrations. 

In the McLaren garage Lando watches the podium from the monitors. He knows he should be in the media pen, answering the same questions over and over again and he pretends not to hear his publicity agent holler his name. In his defense the TIFOSI are celebrating not that far away– it’s hard to hear anything over them and the Italian anthem filling the air. He’s experienced a podium in Monza once, but as a McLaren driver it’s never as special as if he were a Ferrari driver. The monitor that’s still playing the podium celebration is his only focus at this point and he doesn’t even notice Oscar coming up beside him. Lando’s too busy watching you get sprayed with champagne and the way you look with the said champagne dripping off of you. The way you look like you were meant to be up there with the thousands of fans screaming for you down below. The biggest trophy held high above your head as you smile out at the crowd. 

“She’s something isn’t she?” 

Lando jumps slightly at the sound of Oscar’s voice, yet his gaze never wanders from the screen. The Australian shuffles his feet to stand next to Lando, his eyes joining in on the spectacle on the monitor in front of them. 

“Yeah she is.” Lando mumbles. 

Truth be told you’re more than just something. You were a prodigy– a generational talent. People knew you’d be talked about as one of the greats forty years from now. It took blood sweat and tears and then some to become the first female Formula 1 driver, and you sure as hell weren’t going to be some mediocre driver who barely made it into the points every race.

You were here to win– to be the best and that’s what you are. Another twenty five points added to your championship lead and perhaps after you win the championship you’ll no longer be the Princess of Ferrari, but the Queen. 

Lando watches as you grip the champagne bottle by its neck, lifting to your lips and taking a long swig from it. “I’d let her fuck me with that bottle.” He doesn’t even realize he’s said that out loud until he hears Oscar scoff from beside him. 

“Of course you would.” 

Oscar would too– he just has a better filter than Lando. 

Charles, Max, and you pose for some pictures and then with a final wave to the crowd you’re off the screen and the cameras change to the season's stats so far. Lando turns to face his teammate with nothing shy of a serious look on his face. “We are going out tonight.” 

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, there was nothing to really celebrate tonight. “We barely made it into the points. Is that really worth going out for?” 

“We aren’t celebrating us you muppet. We are celebrating Y/N.” 

“Ah of course, because we are so close to her. She probably wouldn’t even let us near her section if we tried.” 

Lando rolled his eyes at Oscar– he could be so pessimistic sometimes. So what if Lando could count on one hand how many times he’d held a conversation with you that lasted longer than a minute. That didn’t mean you didn’t like him. In fact, maybe you liked Lando so much that you kept your distance to remain professional. Either way he was going to actually talk with you tonight and yeah it was unprofessional, but if things escalated tonight, he wouldn’t oblige. 

The sound of Lando and Oscar’s names echoed through the McLaren garage and in an instant both of their publicity agents were now standing in front of them, unimpressed looks on their faces as they dragged the two drivers towards their interviews.

“I’ll get the details from Carlos alright? Don’t sit around in the room tonight– live a little Oscar.” Lando says as they enter the chaos that is the media pen.

Oscar only nods at his teammate as his agent is already pointing him in the direction of his first interview. 

A perk of the McLaren boys being so late to do their interviews is that they get the privilege of being in the pen at the same time as the three podium placers. Max and Charles walk in first, but no one pays that much attention to them. 

When Y/N waltzes in– now that’s a different story. 

There’s an immediate surge of energy in the air. Your name is echoed through the air like a prayer and each press official wants to be the first person to interview the race winner– to interview you. Your smile lights up the room and you don’t even look like you’ve just been through a grueling two hours in a race car. You’re radiant and everyone’s eyes are on you, even the ones that were mid interview.

When you end up next to Oscar in the pen he feels the air escape from his lungs. He tries to act cool, like he didn’t even notice you next to him, or that he wasn’t freaking out like a fanboy right now, but he totally was. It also seemed that the person interviewing him was more focused on you than Oscar, their eyes glancing over towards you every few seconds, but Oscar couldn’t blame them one bit. 

He thinks he blacks out for a moment when you leave to go to your next interview and you smile at him. It wasn’t even a full teeth smile, just a small one that you’d give to a person in public on the sidewalk. Yet it made him weak in the knees– his hands gripping the barricade as he tried to collect himself. 

Oscar had talked to you even less than Lando, but he’d come to the conclusion that you smiling at him outweighed all of Lando’s conversations. And his previous doubts about going out tonight had suddenly vanished. He was a man on a mission and you were that mission.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The music pounds in your chest as you sit on the plush velour couches in the VIP section of this random club in Monza. Strobe lights move across the room and the faint smell of marijuana fills your noise while you’re sipping on what was clearly not your first drink of the night. Charles sat across from you with whatever girlfriend this was at the moment and a couple other drivers that you liked well enough to invite out. 

It was times like this that you thought that maybe you should be a little more outgoing in the friend department, but you weren’t here to make friends. Sure you talked to the guys– you weren’t rude, but it was always professional conversations– always consisting of racing.

You were close with Charles, purely because he’d been your teammate for the past two years, but other than that you didn’t pay much mind to anyone else on the grid. You were here to win races, not form lifelong friendships, but that didn’t mean you didn’t like to have a little fun every once in a while. 

Which was what you planned on doing tonight. 

Oscar and Lando seem like two middle school boys with no date to the Valentine’s day dance as they stand awkwardly near the bar. The music is deafening and Lando’s mad that Carlos, who was the one person who could have gotten them into your section, decided to bail on coming out tonight at the last minute. The last hour had been spent on trying to figure out how to get in without Carlos, but they both seem to be failing in the brainstorming department tonight. 

Lando’s ordering another drink from the bartender when he feels a sharp jab in his side. He turns his head to find Oscar pointing out towards the dance floor– his eyes follow Oscar’s line of direction and what he sees has his mouth agape. 

There you are on the dance floor– in a red dress that fits you perfectly and teases anyone who was looking. You stand out, like a beacon of light and Lando and Oscar were sailors lost at sea. The way your body moves along to the rhythm and you seem to get lost in the music. It’s a sight that neither of them can seem to tear their eyes away from. That is until you decide to head back to your section and before Oscar can oblige Lando decides their best option for tonight. 

“Let’s just go and talk to her.” He grabs Oscar by the hand, his shoes dragging against the sticky floor as Lando pulls him towards you. Oscar knows there’s no real plan in place and he fears they’re going to make fools of themselves. 

Once they make it through the sea of sweaty bodies a red velvet rope and a burly bouncer are all that separates the two McLaren drivers from you. The bouncer stares down at them– his expression stone cold as he crosses his massive arms over his chest, muscles bulging under his shirt. 

“Sorry. Invite only.” His Italian accent is thick as he speaks to them. 

“We know her. We’re drivers too– for McLaren.” Lando counters back, praying it’s enough for the man to lift the rope and let them pass. 

The bouncer stares at them, squinting his eyes like he’s trying to tell if they are actually who they say they are. For a brief second they think the man recognizes them, but their hopes were crushed as soon as they appeared. “Invite only.” The bouncer states again as he stands there like a brick wall. 

Lando cranes his neck around the man, looking into the VIP section, hoping someone recognizes him and Oscar, but the person who comes to their rescue is the last person either of them expected. 

The red dress is what catches Lando’s eye first and when his eyes travel up and land on your face he gulps. There you are standing behind the rope that’s been their main obstacle tonight and when you lean over towards the bouncer and whisper something in his ear the man seems surprised.

If Oscar was as good at reading lips as he thought he was it looked like the man mouthed something along the lines of are you sure back at you. You nodded your head firmly towards the man before sitting back down on the plush couches, your lips wrapped around the straw from your drink as you stare down the two McLaren boys. 

Oscar and Lando think they’re dreaming when they see the bouncer lift the rope and motion for them to enter. Oscar feels like his feet are stuck on the floor, he never thought they’d get this far tonight, especially after Carlos bailed on them. He feels Lando’s hands on his back, pushing him forward while mumbling something about hurry up before she changes her mind. 

They’re both stumbling messes as they hurriedly enter the VIP section. They hear some of the other drivers greet them, but their attention is lasered in on you. How you’re sitting there sipping your drink and looking like the sexiest and scariest woman they’d ever met. 

There’s a beat of silence for a moment between the three of you as you all just stare at one another– some rap song fills the silence as the bass vibrates in everyone’s chest. 

Oscar notices how your gaze lingers on Lando more than him and he realizes he needs to be the one to speak up first. “You were fucking incredible today.” 

Your eyes immediately dart over to Oscar and a smile creeps its way onto your face. “Thank you.” 

“No really. It was like something completely different to what everyone else was doing out there today. It was like it wasn’t even racing.” 

You simply nod at him, what were you supposed to say to him? You knew you were good. 

Oscar looks around his eyes identifying the other drivers who’d been graced with a prior invite into your section. Leclerc, Hamilton, and Albon, but no Verstappen. “Max didn’t want to come out tonight?” 

You scoff and shake your head at the Australian. “He only likes to celebrate when he’s on the top step, not the bottom one. He’s a sore loser– probably already on his private jet back to Monaco as we speak.” Someone comes over with a tray full of shots and sets them down on the nearby table. You grab one for yourself and motion for the boys to grab one as well. “Go on, have a little fun. You two did pretty decent for yourselves today didn’t you? You both scored points if I recall correctly?” 

Lando and Oscar both nod and grab a shot glass from the table, quickly downing it before setting the glass back down. They watch you as your lips wrap around the shot glass and you tilt your head back, letting the liquid burn as it goes down your throat. When you set the shot glass back down you notice the boys standing there like lost puppies. The awkwardness and nervousness radiating off them makes you giggle. You knew the power you had over men and oh was it such a fun game to play. 

“I heard through the grapevine that you’re doing Formula E next season. Did you lose your seat or what?” 

Lando’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head– he’d not spoken to another soul about it, besides Zak. “How did you even know about this? But no, I didn’t lose my seat. I wanted to explore other forms of racing. Trust me– my seat will be waiting for me when I’m done.” 

You nod at the British driver as your eyes flicker over to Oscar, who you know is thinking the same thing. No one who makes it to Formula 1 just decides to pursue other types of racing— maybe once you’ve left your mark, but not a handful of years into your career. You guess you all would see if he did still have his seat when the time came. “It’s Formula 1 darling. There’s no such thing as secrets in this career field. The paddock whispers and the majority of the time she’s never wrong.” 

The club starts to feel suffocating and Lando uses his need for fresh air to maybe get you away from the chaos for a moment. “Do you smoke?” 

You raise your eyebrows at him in surprise– a small laugh spilling past your lips. “Cigarettes?” 

“Yeah.” 

“No. Do you?” 

“Yeah. Do you wanna go outside?” 

You glance over at Oscar who seems less than impressed with Lando at the moment, but you’re intrigued to see where this goes. So, you stand up, smooth the front of your dress and let Lando and Oscar lead the way. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The fresh air feels amazing when it hits your skin, it makes you feel alive–awake almost. You’re grateful there’s only two people out here in the little smokers area, the last thing you need is for people to be shoving their phones in your face. You notice Lando pull a pack of Marlboros from his jacket pocket and then proceeds to pull a cigarette out before handing the pack to Oscar who copies his actions. 

You three sit at one of the little tables set up outside and you watch as they smoke their cigarettes. “This isn’t the eighties anymore. Do your trainers know you guys smoke?” 

“If the drivers back in the day could do it why can’t we?” Lando says as he takes a particularly long drag.

“Like I said it’s not the eighties anymore.” You taunt. Oscar quickly puts his out with the heel of his shoe before you start in on him. He never really liked cigarettes to begin with, but then he started hanging around Lando and well now everytime he drank he craved one. “See, this is your problem. You think racing is about trying to be like the ones who came before you or that it’s some image you have to fit into. That’s why you’re stuck fighting for P10.” 

“We don’t necessarily have the best car at the moment.” Lando counters back, flicking the ash off his cigarette as he eyes you. 

You shake your head at him. “Yeah, but having a good car is only a small fraction of the bigger picture. To be honest you’re not actually a Formula 1 driver. You don’t even understand what racing is.” 

Lando smirks as he takes another puff from his cigarette, the smoke billowing in your face. “What is it then?” 

“A relationship.” 

He scoffs at your answer. “Is that what gets you all those wins? Seeing racing as a relationship?” 

“It is actually. When you become one with your car, with your team, engineer, everyone that makes this whole thing run you’ll understand. You’ll feel it and it’s like you all understand each other. It’s some fucked up version of love, but it’s there. It’s like I’m sometimes not there in my body when I’m driving and the part of me that is in this relationship takes over and I just exist in that moment. Racing– being a Formula 1 driver is more than just driving a fast car and living a luxurious lifestyle. It’s a commitment and when that commitment is taken seriously the outcome is beautiful.” 

Oscar had never heard someone talk about racing like that before, but it made sense, especially coming from you. Everytime you got in that car your drive was like a piece of art. Every win of yours deserved to be in the Louvre. You truly were the face and epitome of what was Formula 1. 

Your phone lights up with a notification and when you see just how late it is you know it’s time to call it a night. “Well boys. It was nice to chat with you, but it’s time for me to head back to the hotel. See you at the next race.” You give them a small wave goodbye and head back towards the chest rattling music. 

Lando sits up in his chair, the night had just begun and he was far from done talking to you. “Wait!” You stop walking and turn on your heels to face the boys, an eyebrow raised in question. “Are you on Facebook?” 

You audibly laugh in Lando’s face at his question. “Facebook? Is this 2010?” 

Oscar speaks up for the first time since you three came out here. “I think he’s trying to ask for your number, which is what I’m also doing… right now.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth from Oscar to Lando. “I don’t doubt you both follow me on Instagram. Is that not enough?” Oscar and Lando feel their stomachs drop, they knew they shouldn’t have gotten so ballsy with asking for your number. When they don’t answer you realize how serious they are about it. “You both want my number– for real?” 

Oscar and Lando vigorously nod their heads at you, clinging onto the last little bit of hope they have.

“I’m not a home-wrecker.” 

“We don’t live together.” Oscar states as he watches your hair gently move with the night breeze. 

Lando doesn’t miss a beat with his reply. “It’s an open relationship.” 

“Also Lando has a girlfriend.” 

“I do not!” Lando slightly raises his voice towards his teammate. The asshole was clearly trying to get one up on him. 

You laugh at their antics, they were such desperate needy boys and you were loving this. 

Lando shuffles forward in his seat, his elbows resting on the table as he leans forward. “Why don’t you come hang out with us later? We’re all at the same hotel. We’re in room 231.” 

Oscar’s head whips around to look at Lando, he was not expecting to have a sleepover tonight. 

You laugh a little at his proposition. “Is money that tight at McLaren that they’ve got you two sharing rooms?” 

Lando and Oscar glance at one another, the answer was yes, but they weren’t going to say that. “No, it was a hotel mistake.” 

“You want me to come tuck you in?” Your tone is nothing shy of teasing. 

“No. We can just keep talking about… racing.” 

They were determined– you’d give them that. You had never paid much mind to the McLaren boys, but after your interaction with them tonight you were intrigued to say the least. A small smile stretches across your face as you bid the boys farewell once more. “Goodnight.” 

You know they watch you walk all the way to the door and you know they’ll be waiting all night for you to show up. 

It’s not butterflies that you feel in your stomach when you realize just how tightly you’ve got them wrapped around your finger already– no it’s something much stronger than that. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Later the night Lando and Oscar wait impatiently in their shared hotel room for you to show up. The AC rattles and the TV plays some random Italian show that Oscar pretends to watch. 

“She’s not coming.” Oscar states after the end credits roll on what he thinks is the third episode of the show. 

“She might.” Lando’s lounging on his bed, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. 

Oscar glances over at Lando. “You made it sound like we wanted to fuck her in here.” 

Lando scoffs. “Well we do want to fuck her in here.” 

“What exactly was your plan with this invitation? I mean let’s say she did come over. We both keep desperately trying to shoot our shot and hope that she ends up making out with one of us? What’s the other person supposed to do? Go sit in the bathroom?” 

Lando shrugs, he hadn’t thought that far in advance, but it didn’t sound like a horrible plan. “Sure, if it came to that.” Oscar laughs at how unbelievable Lando sounds right now. Really he’d like nothing more for you to show up at their door and have your way with him, but Oscar was realistic– Lando not so much. “What do you think it’s beneath you? Is Oscar Piastri too good to take one for the team and wait it out in the bathroom?” 

“I think it’s beneath her.” Oscar had realized that The Princess of Ferrari was definitely taking pity on them earlier. And if you did show up at their room tonight then maybe Oscar would start to believe in a higher power. 

“What if she chooses you? You’d have no trouble sending me away.” 

Oscar rolls his eyes at his teammate. “She’s not coming, Lando.” 

Then as if the universe wanted to humiliate Oscar there’s a knock at the door. The boys halt their movements and lock eyes, wondering if they’d just heard the knock in their heads. Then as if on cue another knock sounds on the door and their both scrambling to straighten the room as quickly as possible. 

On the other side of the door you can hear them clambering around and shouted whispers echoing through the room. You smile as you imagine the undeniable chaotic scene unfolding on the other side of the door. You hear the door opening and you quickly step back, you didn’t want them to know you were eavesdropping.

When the door opens there stands Oscar and Lando, both with only boxers on, but Lando’s the only shirtless one. You can feel their eyes burning into your skin– you’d perhaps worn the shortest athletic shorts you own and a cute little jacket on purpose. 

“Hi.” Comes from both of them, but you only greet them back with a smile. 

You three sit on the carpeted floor and talk about dumb shit like what junior series you raced in and if Oscar’s boarding school experience was like the crazy stories you’d heard of. The mini bar was soon fully raided and combined with the prior drinks from the club– you were feeling a little out there with your questions. 

“How often does this happen?” You motion between the three of you with your almost empty seltzer can. “You guys going after the same girl?”

“Not as often as you’d think actually.” Lando states as he takes a swig from his drink. 

“Really?” You don’t believe him one bit. 

Oscar shakes his head. “We don’t usually have the same type.” 

“Are you saying I should be flattered?” 

“No… I mean you’re everyone’s type, aren’t you?” Oscar states like it’s a known fact. 

Which, in all honesty, it practically was a well known fact. You never had an issue in the relationship department. Men and women– they both loved you and wanted you, and well the feeling was mutual. You were comfortable with your sexuality, but you could feel the tension or unexplored tension between Lando and Oscar. They were both too needy and pathetic looking to not be at least a little curious and you were going to be the one to get the ball rolling. 

“What about the two of you?” You ask, your head spinning with endless possibilities. 

Oscar furrows his eyebrows at you. “What do you mean?” 

You don’t say anything– you just keep looking at them. Waiting for one of them to crack. 

“Oh. No… is that surprising?” Oscar’s cheeks start to turn pink when he understands just what you were insinuating. 

Yes it’s surprising you think– what F1 driver didn’t have a little fruitiness to them? 

Then you see Lando with a weird smile on his face and you know you’ve hit the jackpot. “What is it?” 

“Well…” 

“No.” Oscar is furiously shaking his head at Lando, he does not want you to know about this, but he can already tell his actions are futile.

“Tell me.” You straighten your posture, attention solely focused on them and what Lando’s about to spill. 

Lando keeps teasing and Oscar can tell you're absolutely chomping at the bit to hear this, so he concedes. Maybe you’re drunk enough to forget this in the morning. “Just tell her.” 

You watch as Lando’s eyes travel from you to Oscar and then back to you. The anticipation is killing you and just when you think you can’t wait much longer Lando speaks. 

“Oscar and I have jerked off together before.” 

The image of it flashes in your brain and it’s everything you could have thought of and more. “Like you helped each other or?” 

“No. We were always in separate beds.” Oscar explains but when your eyes widen he realizes what he’s said. 

“You’ve done it more than once?” 

Oscar’s scrambling to do damage control while Lando sits there with a grin on his face. “Twice! That was it and it was during a triple header both times… can you blame us?”

You put your hands up in defense. “I’m not judging.” Judging was the last thing you were doing– fantasizing was more like it. 

There’s a beat of silence between the three of you and when you down the last of your drink you realize what you had was the last of everything. “We’re out of drinks.” 

You all glance at one another– not sure where to go from here. Do you leave? Do you stay? Do you try to get more to drink? Then as abruptly as you decided to do a one stopper during the race earlier, you get up from the floor and take a seat on the end of one of the beds. 

“Come here.” You command. 

The boys look at one another and then over to you, neither of them moving. 

“Um– which one of us?” Oscar asks. 

Lando on the other hand doesn’t wait for you to answer. He’s up off the floor and next to you on the bed faster than the car he drives on Sundays. Oscar quickly follows suit– settling in on the other side of you. 

You feel both of their eyes on you, the anticipation killing them, and the fact that you’re fully in control at the moment. You look back and forth between the boys, almost like you’re playing eeny meeny miny moe with them. After what seems like a tantalizing few seconds you land on Oscar and you can feel the nervousness and desire radiating off of him.

You lean in and capture his lips in a kiss– it’s sweet and he kisses you with a softness that somehow had you craving more, but you knew you had Lando waiting his turn. So before you got carried away you broke apart from Oscar and turned to face Lando. He’s eager and wastes no time once you lean in towards him. His lips are rougher and kissing Lando is the complete opposite of kissing Oscar. Lando’s more passionate and rushed and he’s more handsy than Oscar. It’s like day and night with them. 

You pull away from Lando and then after a few seconds they both lean in at the same time to kiss you. It’s awkward at first– heads are bumped and giggles travel softly through the air, but eventually you make it work and you’re kissing them both at the same time. It quickly turns more heated, tongues dancing with each other, mouths moving in sync. It's messy and hot and none of you can seem to get enough– hands are everywhere and you all get lost in the moment. 

That’s until an idea sparks in your brain and you find yourself slowly backing out of the kiss and before you know it you’re leaning back on your elbows watching the show in front of you. 

For a moment Oscar and Lando get lost in one another. Their eyes are closed yet their mouths work together like they’ve mapped every inch of one another. It makes you wonder– hope that they’ve done this before. It’s like a work of art in front of you and you find yourself getting lost in the way they kiss one another, but you know you can’t be greedy if you want to make whatever this is last. So, you sadly interrupt the two drivers. 

“Okay.” They immediately break apart, eyes wide as they realize what they’ve been doing. “I’m going to bed.” You get up and head towards the door, acting like this hadn’t just made you feel crazy. 

Lando and Oscar are feeling fifty million emotions at the moment but when they see you head towards the door Lando realizes he hadn’t gotten what he asked for in the beginning. “What about your number?”

You’d just made out with them and they're still so hung up on your damn number? “I told you I’m not a home-wrecker.”

“Please.” Oscar knows he sounds desperate, but that’s because he is. 

You think for a moment, you could just give them your number, or you could make this a little fun. And with you fun is always going to win. “Alright. How about this? I would say whoever wins the race would get my number, but we know that's not going to happen. So whoever places higher up at the next race can have it.” 

Lando smiles, but Oscar feels the loss already. You notice how starkly different their reactions are and you focus your attention on Oscar. “You can beat him. You should beat him, actually.” 

Lando doesn’t know if he should take offense to what you’ve said or use it as fuel to beat Oscar tomorrow. Either way he doesn’t appreciate the sudden favoritism towards Oscar at the moment.

“Are you saying you want me to?” Oscar’s confused as to what you meant. 

“I’m saying you’re not going to get my number if you don’t.”

“Yeah, but what do you want?” Oscar asks and you all know he’s not implying what you want but who.

“I want to see some good fucking racing.” 

Silence fills the hotel room for a brief moment before you bid them goodnight and walk out the door. 

The boys sit there shell shocked, still processing what had taken place moments ago and your words still hanging heavy in the air. They both knew they had to lock in and do everything in their power to beat one another at the next race– and to them your phone number meant more than a trophy or points at the moment. 

Lando glances over at Oscar, but his eyes travel down south when he spots something out of the corner of his eye. “Need some help with that?” 

Oscar looks over at Lando and follows his gaze down to his raging erection. He punches the Brit in the arm before abruptly standing up. “Fuck off Lando.” He hollers as he heads towards the bathroom. 

“Maybe we can tell Y/N it was three times instead of two!” Lando laughs as he leans back on the bed with his arms behind his head. He was determined to get your number– come hell or highwater. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Two weeks later Formula 1 is racing in Baku. You haven’t spoken to Lando or Oscar since that night, but the whole weekend you’ve been catching their eye, fleeting glances are shared during media day, and when you stand somewhat close to them during the driver’s parade they both feel like they're going insane. 

Sunday arrives and you’re on the top step again and when the celebrations are over you watch the race in your hotel room that night. A smirk paints itself across your face the longer you watch, the McLaren boys didn’t disappoint. They put on a good fucking show from the midfield and when Lando sees the checkered flag before Oscar you’re pulling out your phone and pulling up his contact– a favor from Carlos. 

Your fingers type out the message– the intent behind it is clear as day and when you press send you wait for the knock at your door. 

you: congrats P8 winner. i think you deserve a more elaborate prize, don't you? 

A few weeks later Lando and Oscar are at the MTC doing some training, sim work, media obligations– all the fun stuff. They’re in the gym doing weights when Oscar asks the question. 

“You fucked her yet?” 

Lando sets the dumbbell down, surprised at what came out of Oscar’s mouth. “I’m not telling.” 

“What do you mean you won’t tell me?” 

“I don’t kiss and tell.” Lando shrugs. 

Oscar scoffs as he does a few more reps. “Since when?” 

“Since she told me she’d stop seeing me if I told anyone.” Lando says matter of factly. 

“Well she had to know you’d talk to me.” 

Lando stares at Oscar for a moment, amazed at how adamant he is to hear about him sleeping with you. “Isn’t this hard for you to hear? Do you like torturing yourself or something?” 

“I’m happy for you really.” Oscar replies, but his heart isn’t in it. “Just give me a sign to tell me. If you aren’t going to say it outloud give me a sign. At the next race if you two slept together, wave at me or something.” 

“You want me to wave at you while I’m driving a car at 200 miles per hour?” Sometimes Oscar was a freaking idiot and this was one of those times. 

“Yeah. It’s simple enough, but I’ll know what it means.” 

With a smirk on his face Lando shakes his head at the Australian, he knew this wasn’t going to end well, but he’s a man of his word. “Alright.” 

At the next race as they’re nearing the last few laps Lando manages to overtake Oscar and as he passes him Oscar sees Lando’s gloved hand sticking out as best as he can and the unmistakable action of waving taking place. 

He feels his stomach practically drop out of his ass and the sound of two more cars overtaking him doesn't bother him one bit. He knew they had to be hooking up, but the reality of it made him want to be sick. It should be him with you, not Lando. Anger courses through his veins and in the post race team meetings he won’t even look in Lando’s direction. 

The rest of the season is played out as civilly as it possibly can be. Oscar’s still bitter about losing you to Lando, but knowing that he’ll be gone next season heightens his spirits somewhat. Lando and you continue to secretly hook up and you wonder if you actually have feelings for him or not. 

Racing is still your number one priority of course and no one, especially not Lando, is a distraction to you in your pursuit of that championship title. The last few races you work your tail off training and honing your racing craft. It’s a close title fight between Max and you and when it comes down to Abu Dhabi you know this is what all these years of blood sweat and tears have been for. You’re pushing the car to the maximum channeling every bit of strength and knowledge you have to win.

And when you’re the first to see that checkered flag you don’t even feel like you’re in your body. It’s all a blur, it’s surreal, and when you’re holding that championship trophy with the biggest smile on your tear stained face you know you deserve this more than anyone. As the congratulations and celebrations begin you realize how addicting this is and you know that this is the beginning of a new era for you. A champion era. 

Yet some eras, though they are mighty, are shorter than others. 

[docrobinavitch]

say goodbye like you mean it | pt. one

dr. robby x f!charge nurse!oc content: 18+ mdni, swearing, vague age gap (oc mid to late thirties) words: 4.5k PART TWO synopsis: dana is serious about leaving, at least for a while. her replacement is bright eyed, bushy tailed, and determined to impress robby and robby is less than thrilled... but can't help but be impressed. as well as a little infatuated. a/n: this is my first fic for the pitt! idk how many parts this will be yet, but pls let me know your thoughts

“And there’s nothing I can do to convince you that this is a mistake?” Dr. Robby was looking at Dana with the softest, pleading eyes he could muster.

But Dana only smiled and shook her head, “Would you give the kid a chance first? It’s only a trial and I’ll be here the first few days and train her, alright? I vetted her myself. She was charge nurse in her own ER in Manhattan. During Covid.” She added for emphasis.

“Huh, no shit.” Robby rubbed at his beard, “How old is she?”

Dana shrugged, “I’m not sure, somewhere in her thirties?” 

Just then, the doors of the ER opened and the new charge nurse walked in, securing her hair with a claw clip as she walked toward the hub.

“Here she comes,” Dana said and elbowed Robby in the side, “Be nice, please.”

“Sweetheart!” Dana said as she approached and a smile lit up her face. “Welcome, thank you for coming in.”

“Of course,” She said, looking around the already chaotic ER, “I’m eager to get my hands dirty.”

“There will be no shortage of that, I can assure you.” Robby interjected.

Finally, her eyes fell on him and her smile widened, “You must be Dr. Robby. Dana told me all about you. It’s nice to put a face to the name,” She held out a hand, “Gwen Keating.”

He took her outstretched hand in his, “Good to meet you too. Though, I don’t envy you, you have big shoes to fill,” He dropped her hand, “I’m still trying to convince Dana to stay.”

Dana glared at Robby, “I told you to behave.”

“Gwen” Robby continued, ignoring Dana, “Dana tells me you were charge nurse at a hospital in Manhattan during the pandemic. Which one?”

Her face falls marginally, “New York Presbyterian.” She says softly.

The words hit him in the chest, “My God,” He shakes his head, “You guys were basically ground zero. We learned how to use one ventilator to treat two patients from you.”

Gwen looks down at her hands which he notices are now pulling at cuticles around her nail bed, “Yeah.” She says eventually, “It was a fucking nightmare and we adapted as quickly as we could.” Then she winces, “Sorry. Shouldn’t curse on my first day.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Dana said, putting an arm around her shoulders, “The pandemic was a motherfucker for all of us.”

She gives Dana a sad smile and leans into her embrace. 

Robby hates that Dana is leaving. Hates it so much, in fact, he had thought about putting in his two weeks several times. But each time he had faltered. And now Gwen was here, by all accounts looking like a goddamn angel, and he thought maybe everything would be okay after all.

Robby and Dana give her the grand tour, introducing her to everyone. She’s quick to learn names and she takes diligent notes. Though she’s a trained nurse and not a doctor, Robby learns quickly that being charge nurse during covid had many doctors giving her a lot of leeway. 

“We were constantly short staffed with doctors and nurses getting sick,” She shrugged, “It wasn’t uncommon for a doctor to be on speaker phone, sick at home, walking me through an intubation or a chest tube. But don’t worry,” Gwen said quickly at the look of alarm on Robby’s face, “That part of my life is over. Thankfully.”

Before he can comment, a lower abdominal GSW is rolling in and the three of them are immediately gloving up, following the gurney into trauma three.

Robby calls for Collins and Whitaker who trailed behind.

Giving the case to Collins, his eyes focus on Gwen as she reads vitals, jumps in when needed, and delegates tasks to other nurses with ease as things get more tricky. She has tools and meds ready before Collins can even ask, already anticipating how she would want to treat.

When the patient is stable and headed to an OR, Gwen degloves and walkd back over to Robby, looking a bit smug.

“So, did I pass?” She asks. Dana is grinning at Robby from behind her back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She smirks, “So you weren’t evaluating me?”

“The person you should be trying to impress is Dana, not me.”

She scoffs, “Please. Dana is already impressed. I know it’s your approval I need to work here.”

He turns his attention from Collins to Gwen, eyes rolling carefully over her face. He is impressed. Thoroughly. But he doesn’t want her to know that yet.

“Have you ever thought about going to med school?”

“Oh, bite your tongue!” Dana snaps, “We need more nurses, not doctors.”

She laughs, and turns back to Robby, “I did, yeah. Before covid.” Again, he notices the way her face falls just slightly at the recollection of the pandemic, “But I decided I like it better in the background. As charge nurse, especially, I like all the admin work. I love working with patients, but I love taking care of my nurses and doctors more, I think. Is that awful?”

Robby’s shaking his head, “No. That’s exactly what we need from a charge nurse. A mother hen, right Dana?”

Dana had her arms around Gwen’s shoulders again as she laughed, “Isn’t she just the best?”

Robby rolled his eyes and began to walk away, “You haven’t passed yet.” He called over his shoulder.

“What?”

“We’ll see if you survive to the end of the shift.”

She laughed, “I do love a challenge.”

“Good,” Robby called back, “Because I’m very difficult to impress.”

Mateo was standing next to Dana at the hub, both of them intently watching Gwen and Robby, “I gotta hand it to you, Dana,” Mateo said as he took a bite of a sandwich from the patient bin, “You’re good. Not only have you given Robby a perfect replacement, you’re also getting him laid.”

Mateo offered Dana a fist, which Dana bumped while smiling, “Robby should be kissing my feet in thanks.”

The rest of the shift flew by with little incident. Things ran smoothly with Gwen behind the wheel. She had questions for Dana every now and then, but she was a fast learner and by the fourth hour, Dana hardly needed to do anything. She had Dana’s respect, and so she had the nurses’ respect as well. The doctors? Well, they looked to Robby first and he hadn’t yet decided how he felt about her. Though, it was clear the two of them worked well together almost immediately. And it was very clear that they had become a team when the reports of ICE being in the area started rolling in.

“What are you hearing?” Robby walked up to the hub, a bunch of nurses were around the desk, around Gwen, their phones out and scrolling.

“Reports of ICE vans in the area,” She said, looking at her own phone, “Rumors they plan to stop here.”

Robby nodded, “What do you want to do?”

Both Gwen and Dana’s eyes snapped to Robby in surprise, “You’re asking me?” She said slowly.

“Yeah. Surely you went through this sort of thing in New York. What’s the protocol?”

She stared at him for only a moment before she jumped into action, “Nurses, everyone is on a patient until I say otherwise. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure ICE does not get in here, but if they do, being in a hospital means these people are protected by the law. If it comes to it, make sure the patients know that. They do not have to speak to the officers without a lawyer. They do not have to leave with ICE unless they have a warrant signed by a judge. If that is the case, I will confirm the legitimacy of the warrant. 

We do not leave a single patient unattended until we’re sure no one is coming. I know there are more patients than there are nurses, assign yourselves no more than three patients that you can cycle through every thirty seconds. No one unattended more than thirty seconds, unless a medical emergency dictates otherwise. I trust you all to make sure every patient is covered, make sure you’re communicating with each other. Doctors, if you notice a patient doesn’t have a nurse, let me know and I will assign them one. You can explain to the patients why you’re there if you like, but do not pressure anyone to reveal their citizenship status to you. It’s better we don’t know anyway. Is Ahmad around?”

“Present.” Ahmad strolls up to the hub, hands on his belt.

“Can security make sure every entrance to the ER has at least one man watching it? If ICE shows up, do not let them in, call me. I will come out to meet them.”

Ahmad looked to Robby who nodded, and then looked back to Gwen, “Roger,” he said and headed for the ambulance bay.

“Any questions?” She asked the medical professionals that encircled her, but she’s met with only silence.

“Alright everyone, you’ve got your marching orders,” Robby said, “Back to work.”

While a nurse caught Gwen in conversation, Robby watched her and Dana sidled up to him, “You know, the sky won’t fall if you admit you like her.”

Robby just glared at her before heading in the direction of Whitaker, who was flagging him down to a patient’s bed.

It was true, he was really starting to warm to Gwen. Sure, it had only been half a shift, but things in the ED moved quickly and everyone worked in close quarters which meant he didn’t need long at all to get a sense of someone. And she was the real deal, that much was clear.

It was only thirty minutes before Ahmad was paging Gwen that ICE was in the ambulance bay.

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

She spun to see Robby just behind her. She had gotten used to his proximity in the first half of the shift, in fact, she was beginning to find his constant presence comforting.

“Only if you want to,” She said slowly, “Well… Yes, actually, if you don’t mind. I find they respond better to male authority figures.”

“Okay,” He started following her towards the exit, “But you take lead?”

She nods, “Of course. Thank you.”

“Officers, I’m the charge nurse here, this is Dr. Robinavitch, our senior physician. How can we help you?”

There were three men in street clothes, the tallest one in front stepped forward, “We have a warrant for a patient here, we need to be allowed inside to take them.”

“Okay, I need to see some ID and the warrant before I can let you inside.”

“We have a warrant. Let us inside now and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I cannot let you inside without seeing the warrant myself first as well as some ID.”

The man made a big show of huffing and puffing before retrieving a warrant from his pocket. Gwen was conscious of Robby just behind her, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She let her shoulders drop remembering he was there. She had just met him, but felt already that she could trust him to have her back. It had been a long time since she had had that sort of rapport with a colleague, let alone a superior.

He handed the paper over and before she had time to read it, was already trying to shove past her.

“Excuse me—!” She scoffed and tried to shove him back, “Ahmad?”

Ahmad was immediately there, shoving the man back. “I gave you the warrant, let’s go!” The man snarled.

Gwen glared and took her time unfolding the piece of paper he gave her and scanning it. It took her only a moment to recognize it wasn’t a proper warrant, “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in with this. Please come back when you have a warrant signed by a judge.”

She turned to leave, ignoring the man’s calls behind her. She doesn’t see what happens next, but very quickly, Robby has put himself between her and the ICE officer.

“You touch my nurse.” He said lowly, dangerously, “And we’re going to have bigger issues. If you want access to our department, you need a warrant signed by a judge, that is the law. Not a piece of paper signed by one of your own. Until then, get off the property or we call the police.”

“Hey man,” The officer backed off almost immediately, “We don’t want any trouble.”

Gwen rolls her eyes and walks away, thoroughly annoyed, “Asshole.” She mumbles under her breath.

Soon, Robby is jogging to her side, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She says, “Did he lunge at me?”

He hesitates, “Yes, but Ahmad and I wouldn’t have let him touch you.”

She almost smirks, “Are you worried I’m going to get scared and bolt?”

“What?” He says quickly, too quickly, “No. No.” He said firmly, “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“Well, Dr. Robby, it’ll take a lot more than a disgruntled ICE officer to get me out of your ER.”

He smiles at her, for the first time, and it sends a flutter to her chest. He had such kind, warm eyes.

“I’ll just have to try harder then, I guess.”

She smirked as they both walked back into central, “Come on, don’t you know a lost cause when you see one?”

He smiles, but grows serious again, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks quietly, “If you need a break or anything, I would encourage you to do so.”

Gwen shakes her head, “I’m sure you know the rate of assault on nurses?” He nodded, looking down at the ground, “Believe me when I say I’ve had much worse than an attempted hair pull. But I appreciate your concern, truly. It’s… not common in my experience for doctors to treat their nurses with the attention and care you do. To treat the nurses as equals. It doesn’t go unnoticed.” She squeezed his arm and headed back to the hub, announcing to everyone to resume care as normal.

“So,” Robby didn’t hear Collins until she was already next to him, “The new Dana’s pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“Don’t call her that.”

Collins smirked and followed after Robby when he tried to walk away, “Come on, Robby. We’ve all been watching you flirt all shift. Just admit that you like her.”

He sits at his workspace and puts his glasses on, “Did Dana put you up to this?”

“She didn’t have to. It’s more and more obvious by the second.”

Robby sighed and rubbed at his eyes, “Don’t you have patients?”

Collins rolled her eyes, but walked away without another word. In her absence, Robby’s eyes seemed naturally drawn to Gwen. The phone was pressed to her ear, but with the chaos of the ER, he couldn’t hear who she was talking to or what she was saying. While on the phone, she directed some nurses and respiratory therapists looking for patients and supplies. It was uncanny to him how fast she came up to speed, but he supposed spending years in Manhattan would do that. Maybe his ER was a cake walk to her.

Beyond his fascination with Gwen’s professional capabilities, he would be lying if he said he didn’t find her unnervingly attractive. He knew Abbott would be egging him on if he were here, practically begging him to ask her out. If you don’t, I will. He could hear him say. And he couldn’t allow that. He would ask her out for a beer later, he decided. It wasn’t like him to move this fast, to acknowledge his feelings so quickly. More than likely she had someone waiting at home for her anyway. She would let him down gently, professionally, and then he could put this ridiculous pining behind him before it had a chance to really take root. It was genius, really.

Just three hours of the shift left before he could put it to rest.

***

7:17 PM

“Well.” Gwen was standing in front of Robby as he was finishing up charting, hands clasped behind her back and rocking on her heels like a little kid. He had been watching her, so he knew she had already done her rounds with the night shift charge nurse. She had sent Dana home an hour early, insisting she could handle it solo. Dana had given Robby the I told you so look before leaving.

“Well, what?” He asked, not looking up from his chart. 

“Are you impressed? Did I pass?”

He took a deep breath before meeting her eyes. She was flushed and sweating a little from the exertion of the shift. Strands of hair had freed themselves from her claw clip and either stuck to her face or hung loosely around it. Robby thought he might be more attracted to her now than he was a few hours ago.

“You did good, but it’s a long way before I’m impressed.”

She shrugged, “That’s fine, I’m very patient.”

He smiled and rubbed at his beard, “Would you… want to grab a beer with me?”

She blinked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. Here we go, Robby thought to himself and braced himself for the rejection.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

He frowned, “I never said that.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes him and he feels himself beginning to sweat under the weight of her gaze. He wanted her to get it over with, to rip the bandaid, to say no so he could go home and drink alone in front of the TV.

But she didn’t do that.

“Yeah, okay.” She said finally.

“Y-Yeah?” He asked, mostly to confirm that he had heard correctly, “No… significant other or family waiting for you at home?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “Nope. You?”

He couldn’t believe it. How was it that she was all alone? “Not a soul.”

“Ok, well, I’ll meet you in the ambulance bay in five?”

He nodded, still feeling a bit in shock, “Yeah, sure.” 

When she walked away, he watched her hips sway and knew he was in deep shit. 

There was a familiar whistle and then a hand on his shoulder, “Nobody told me Dana’s replacement was hot.”

Robby shrugged off Dr. Abbott’s hand, “Have some respect, brother. She worked the ER during the pandemic in Manhattan.”

“The early days?” Robby nodded and Abbott let out another low whistle, “No shit?”

Robby sighed, beginning to log out of the computer after finishing his final chart, “That’s what I said. But her work today proves it, for sure. She’s a pro.”

“Why come work at the Pitt, then? She could probably have her pick of any hospital with the nurse shortage.”

“No idea. Hoping to find out now, I’m taking her out for a drink.”

“No shit!” Abbott said again, clapping him on the back, “Don’t let me keep you then, go get her Robby.”

***

The bar two blocks away from the hospital was quiet. It was a Tuesday, after all. The lighting was warm and soft and Gwen and Robby had sought shelter in a corner booth in the back.

They were sitting close enough that just a small movement would have their legs pushed together. Gwen tried not to notice, but over the 12 hour shift, she was beginning to wonder how anyone in the ER stopped themselves from having a huge massive crush on the grumpy attending with the kind eyes. She, certainly, was failing miserably.

“So, Dr. Robby, how long have you been at the Pitt?” She asked as she sipped her beer.

He sighed heavily, “I’ve lost track. probably about a decade, at least.”

“And you love it?”

His eyebrows furrow and he gives her a strange look, “That’s an odd question. Do any of us really love it?”

She laughs, “Probably the interns or med students. The way I see it, it’s like an addiction. When you’re fresh and new, nothing can beat the high of an ER shift. And then as the years pass, you keep coming back looking for that same high. And there are good moments. You save someone’s kid, or parent, or friend, or partner. But it never hits quite the same as it did the first time.” She takes a long swig of her beer, “But we still come back each shift, hoping it’ll be the shift that makes us feel the same way it did in the beginning.”

She turns her head back to Robby, “Is it like that for you, too?”

He nods slowly, watching her with awe, “Something like that, yeah.”

Silence falls between the two of them for a few moments, but it’s a comfortable one. Gwen doesn’t notice how Robby has moved marginally closer to her. They’re still not touching, but there’s only a hairsbreadth of space between them.

“Why’d you leave New York?” Robby asked finally.

Gwen chews on the inside of her cheek, peeling at the label on her beer bottle. The glass is cold and wet and the glue from the label comes off with ease.

“Um,” She said finally, “It was hard to be in the same place as I was during covid. The memories, the flashbacks. I needed a change, is all.”

Robby nods, but he thinks she’s not telling him the whole truth, “There was an almost two year gap on your resume, from 2023 to now.”

Her head snaps to him and now he knows for certain she’s definitely hiding something, “I didn’t know you saw my resume.”

“I asked Dana for it halfway through the shift, out of curiosity.”

She turns back to her beer bottle, “Does the gap concern you?”

He shook his head, “No. You obviously know what you’re doing in an ER. I just wonder why someone as talented as you would want a job at the Pitt.”

Gwen’s quiet for a few moments, “I’m from Pittsburgh. My parents live nearby, I wanted to be closer to them.”

It’s a half truth, and they both know it.

“And the gap?” 

She sighs, “Look, it’s not… It’s not something that affects my work, I’m just not comfortable talking about it right now. If that’s okay?”

Robby wants to know everything there is to know about her. But he understands the hesitancy. Who was he to push her to divulge personal information when he has trouble opening up to people he’d known for years? But he would get it out of her eventually.

“Yeah,” He says after a moment, “I understand.”

They talked for a while after about anything and everything. Her parents, his parents. Jake. What types of music she listened to (she loved 90s indie rock, like the Cranberries and Smashing Pumpkins) to how their families celebrated the holidays when they were young. They even delved into religion, discovering that though they both had been raised in organized religion (her, Catholicism; him, Judaism) neither of them believed in God anymore.

“It’s funny, though.” Gwen said, after she finished off her second beer, “During the pandemic I was so desperate for guidance I once found myself wandering into a church after a shift. I sat in a pew and cried for over an hour, repeating prayers I knew under my breath.”

“Did it help?”

She shrugged, “I felt better for a couple of days after. But nothing really changed.”

He nodded, “I do something similar, even now. When I feel at the end of my rope. I think it is… meditative in a way.”

Gwen nods, “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

They stared at each other, the mutual understanding intoxicating. 

But there was still so much they didn’t know.

Gwen cleared her throat, breaking eye contact first, “I should probably be getting home.”

“Sure,” Robby said, trying to hide his disappointment, “Me too.”

They walked in step until the cool night air hit them. Gwen was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the uneven sidewalk until her sneaker caught it and she went flying.

Luckily, Robby’s reflexes were sharp and he reached out immediately to catch her, pulling her to his chest, “Woah,” He laughed, “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.”

“Shit,” Gwen swore, her hands flat against his chest, “I’m sorry.”

She started to move away, but his arms were solid, keeping her secured against him, “No need.” Their eyes locked again and he felt that pull to her that had been nagging at him all day, “Am I crazy,” He said softly, “if I tell you how badly I want to kiss you right now?”

Gwen’s eyes darted down to his mouth and she swallowed, “No.”

Robby lowered his head slowly, painfully slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring her off. Gwen had said earlier that she was patient, but not that patient. She rose on her toes until their lips met. She felt his gasp of surprise, but then he was reacting. One hand on her waist, another cupping her neck as he kissed her hard and slow.

Gwen hadn’t been kissed in something like two years, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had been kissed like this, if she ever had. Robby kissed like there was no one else in the world, but them. He kissed as if he wasn’t quite sure that the sun would rise the next morning. He kissed as if the ocean threatened to swallow them whole. It was all consuming and it made her head spin.

The kiss became hungrier and Robby sucked her lower lip into his mouth, biting the flesh gently. She sighed into his mouth, but the longer the kiss went on, the louder the alarm bells in her head began to ring. 

She broke the kiss, gently pulling away, “Sorry,” She said breathlessly, a hand on his chest, “I, um, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Robby frowned at her, “If you’re worried about the job, don’t. You don’t report to me, you report to the Nursing Director—“

“It’s not that.” She said quickly, “And it’s not you, either. I…” She trails off and then meets his eyes again, “I haven’t dated or done something like this in a long time. I’m not sure that I’m ready. I’m… I’m sorry, I thought I was, but—“

“It’s okay.” He said quickly, putting his hands over hers that were still against his chest, “You don’t have to explain. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Gwen wanted to stay here. She had the overwhelming feeling that once she stopped touching him, she wouldn’t be able to touch him again. But he was stepping away already, dropping her arms and allowing them distance. 

She nodded, “Yes. Tomorrow.”

His eyes roved down to her mouth and then back up to her eyes, “Goodnight, Gwen.” 

And then he was walking away. She watched his figure as he walked down the road, never turning back, until he turned right and disappeared behind a building.

She closed her eyes and sighed, “Fuck me.”

PART TWO

[halogenwarrior]

I know this poll finished a while ago, but now that I feel more confident about my ability to write analyses of these things I wanted to have a go at breaking down how the series treats female characters arc by arc - I think it would be interesting if they had arc specific polls for these because it is so long-running that the reblog didn't really have the analysis of individual characters that you get for shorter fiction. Individual characters' treatment didn't really get mentioned here just because there is so many of them, the way you see in media with just a few women that comes up here. I wish I would have felt confident enough to do this while the poll is still running but at least I can see what people who follow me for Warriors think. So:

The whole series: There are quite a few misogynistic patterns all the arcs fall into when taken as a whole. The creation of a society that is intended to have gender equality but winds up having women (she-cats) typically fall and be pressured into roles and expectations of women in the author's society anyway, leading to things like Clan leaders being only 1/4 female for no real in-universe reason; this comes off as a lot more sexist than if the society was written as flawed in this manner on purpose because it shows the authors think women just inherently are like that. And then creating the Sisters as an "obvious bad example" of "look here is a real intentionally sexist society the narrative acknowledges and it's men they discriminate against, our society isn't that bad then see?" The coding of "dainty beautiful woman" and "tough muscular man" on nearly all the characters (lots of male characters described as small but nary a big female character to be seen except the most prominent female villain and aforementioned straw misandry faction). This goes down even to the names, where despite the unisex warrior society, "pretty" suffixes like flower are female only and ones like "claw" are almost male-only. Villains being disproportionately male and when a rare female one appears, they are motivated by stereotypical woman things like love for a man and children. And how they handle the she-cats having or not having children (with the exception of Twigbranch who still was open for maybe having children in the future, every female character who expresses wanting to not have children ends up mentally breaking down (Hollyleaf, Bluestar), making things worse with the power they choose instead of children and being somewhat of a villain (Leopardstar) or straight-up being a straw evil stereotype (Lizardstripe), while characters who say women's purpose is to have children and they have to be happy about it are portrayed by the narrative as right and paragons of virtue). And tendency (except for Berryheart) for abusive mothers to be one-dimensional while abusive fathers are forgiven and made excuses for by the narrative. Also the tendency to, while the overall death tolls are about the same for male and female characters, fridge female love interests way more often than male ones, and killing a female member of the main cast almost every arc while the male deaths are all supporting characters.

Arc 1: Definitely suffers from "male defaultism" where just about every character is male unless there is a reason for them to be female, so not a huge focus on women. The main love interest character Sandstorm gets to be generically cool and sassy but doesn't really have much going for her, her arc is all about her romance and coming to see beyond her prejudices that her love interest is a good guy while the male equivalents who have arcs about breaking free from Clan racist (Dustpelt and Longtail) have more to those arcs than just being driven by a love interest, what with Dustpelt's relationship with his mentor and epic call-out of Tigerstar or Longtail and his apprentice Swiftpaw. So I'd hardly call her good representation. To its credit, it does have two female mentor figures, Bluestar and Yellowfang, who are given complexity and compelling stories (Bluestar's breakdown doesn't ever feel like a "women shouldn't be given power" but written in the same way as tragic male leaders despite the aspect about her children). But when you compare these two to the background characters it shows a nasty pattern - male characters can be fathers and also respected, honorable warriors to look up to, a female character who's a mother is just "mom" and nothing else. Goldenflower gets completely neglected even in her son's POV because she's just a vessel to have Tigerstar's kid, Speckletail is treated as hysterical for believing in her son and gets punished by him dying. The two mentor figures, meanwhile, are only allowed that position of respect due to giving up their children, and that forms the core of why their arcs are so tragic. So the message seems to be "be a mother and you are a faceless nothing, don't and you get to be important but it's not worth it because it will make your life miserable, while men get to have it all".

The New Prophecy: Mostly fixes the male default thing with about an evenly gender split main cast, but then the female characters mostly fall into being oh so wise and dainty and put together compared to the male ones, while snarking at nonsensical toms. This leads to them getting less interesting arcs, like Brambleclaw struggling with his heritage while his sister Tawnypelt has it all put together so she has less focus and no arc. The one who doesn't fit that mold and is immature and messy, Squirrelflight, gets treated by the narrative (or by Brambleclaw, but the narrative never calls him out for it) much more harshly than male equivalents like Crowfeather because men are expected to be tormented and flawed while it's unusual and thus annoying for a woman. Of the POV characters, the two female ones' arcs are largely about romance while the male one is about his heritage and ambition and insecurities. To be fair, Mothwing is actually a well-written and not misogynistic character who has struggles that while they do relate to her relationship with her brother are also about her outsider identity and relationship with religion, she gets written as one-note in later arcs but not in a sexist way - though definitely in an anti-atheist way. This arc also introduces regular main characters Squirrelstar and Leafpool. A lot of people have said the narrative hates them in a sexist way, and I feel that's not quite true - the narrative quite likes them (or at least Squirrelstar, Leafpool gets shafted in SqH) and is interested in their struggles and moments of strength, but it likes then in the way you like deeply flawed, tragic antiheroes and it's misogyny that makes it see them that way when they objectively haven't done that much wrong, while letting morally worse equivalents like Crowfeather suffer less in their tragic anti-hero redemption arc.

Power of Three: Does have the typical 2 boys 1 girl structure but Hollyleaf, while she could have easily fallen into the "boring straight woman above it all" archetype, actually is given complexity and love by the narrative and it quickly becomes clear that she is the type A straight man only in the sense of the messy tragic hero who is just as prideful and sometimes ridiculous as her male counterparts, and ultimately ends up falling apart in a way that fits with her character rather than being because she is a she-cat (though as mentioned it still falls into patterns of how women who don't want children are treated, and she falls into the pattern of female main who gets killed off). However, the supporting cast... we have Nightcloud (one-dimensional "other woman" stereotype until CT who's demonized for getting in the way even though she hasn't really done much wrong), Heathertail who only exists as a love interest to further Lionblaze and later Breezepelt's arcs and gets dropped when she's not needed for that, Cinderheart whose arc is nonsensical and ableist but I guess isn't anything offensive from a sexism perspective...

Omen of the Stars: Has two female leads, but then their plot line is a rather cliche thing to do with female characters (sibling jealousy and fighting over who's more special). Dovewing does fall into the trope of female protagonist who is in the plot for what she innately is (her powers and the prophecy) rather than what she does, but does get some rather interesting characterization around what she feels about her sensory experience of the world and the pressure put on her. But the way the authors talk about her in things like the ultimate guide make this all feel unintentional, with her real purpose to be a satellite love interest for Tigerstar II whose arc revolves around him even though she's the one who's an arc protagonist. Ivypool does get an arc after getting past the jealousy stuff which isn't particularly sexist, but she also doesn't get to have any positive effect on the plot as a spy for fear of breaking the narrative. And points off for the authors having the memory of a goldfish and thus dropping the bit about her husband being the primary caretaker of her children.

Dawn of the Clans: Ok leaving this out because I haven't read it, but I've heard it's the worst of the lot...

A Vision of Shadows: Actually the only one that, if it was put alone, I would vote yes on, but with some reservations. It is driven by the female protagonists Violetshine and Twigbranch with Alderheart fading mostly into the background, as well as Needletail despite her not having a POV. Violetshine is a "strong character", a little bland for me but not in a sexist way, but Twigbranch and Needletail in particular are allowed to be "human" and break typical warriors gender stereotypes. Needletail could have easily been from the first book the "rebellious manic pixie dream girl who teaches the awkward relatable male protagonist to live but doesn't have interiority", but seeing her through Violetshine's perspective later instead allows her to become more than that, and be a flawed and complex character who doesn't get hated by the narrative for it, as well as having a complicated relationship with her young charge that doesn't just get boiled down into "one dimensional bad mother figure". Of course it's filtered through the general conservative boomer tendencies of the narrative towards rebellious youth, but that isn't gendered. Likewise Twigbranch (although not my favorite character personally) is definitely given a personality and arc that isn't about men, allowed to drive the SkyClan plot, and is allowed to be a bad caretaker figure as mentor and stand her ground about not wanting to have children without being demonized for it, and even without fitting into the stereotypical "stoic ambitious career woman one of the guys" archetype that is usually the only way the authors can imagine a woman who doesn't want children. Instead she's hardworking but doesn't always fit into the ambitions of the Clan career trap and passionately emotional, and she also at least for now doesn't want children. As for the misgivings... well there's Sleekwhisker not being given much development for her villainy besides stereotypical "girl motives" like love for her male boss and jealousy towards other women, and of course Sparkpelt, which is the most remembered part of the arc by fans in terms of treating women and why you often hear it said that the new author arcs are worse. The way she's punished for being successful and outgoing, combined with the much better treatment of the other woman, does give the sense that this arc really likes women who are rebels and misfits, but despises the idea of a woman who does fit in and is traditionally successful, seeing them as inherently taking a rightful place away from men.

And I haven't actually read TBC or ASC so I will leave them here, just wanted to say my thoughts.

warrior cats (yes i know its about cats but trust me on this one)

Warriors (AKA Warrior Cats) (Novel Series, 2003)

Explain your reasoning in the tags!

[justblades]

the blues of who you once knew, caleb x fem! reader

SYN: to love someone is to attend a thousand of their births — yet this present caleb feels different, urging you to blur the boundaries you previously set.

TAGS: smut, minors dni, homecoming wings spoilers, reader is mc, we have sex in the cockpit like alpha, not proofread WC: 2.2k

a deafening silence lingers in the atmosphere, the tension thickening at every passing minute. your throat runs dry, unable to verbalize a valid protest against the colonel at your left side. you remain glued to your position, eyes wandering from the numerous projections materializing to the buttons organized accordingly to its functions laid within the vicinity.

stealing glances at the male, a soft glow of bluish hues cascade over his masculine features. although his expression remains stern, a hunch gnaws at your heart, insinuating that caleb is just putting up a façade.

his lilac eyes fixated on the windshield, you could not help but feel your heartstrings being ripped apart at how caleb is ignoring you like you were of no importance. in hindsight, whenever a conflict arises between you two, he’d always be the one to step up and tie back the strings into reconciliation - but now, the tides have changed, and your heart aches.

frustration emerges until you couldn’t bear any second daring to pass by without caleb truly by your side. you finally rise from your place and step towards where caleb was, the sounds of your shoes on the mechanical floors catch the attention of the colonel. he whips his head to the side, the corners of his lips still pursed into a thin line.

as your eyes finally meet, it’s as though your sadness was vindicated as caleb stares at you with such indifference. buried in the depths of his glistening, amber tinged lavender irises is an emotion welling deep inside his heart, a spark of longing gleams within. “caleb . . .” you utter his name, grief lacing your tone.

was it really of grieving, that you already miss the person despite him being within your reach, alive and breathing?

or was it the version of him in the past, that feels like an unending prison wherein the two of you are bound by the shackles of the very memories you used to share, although bittersweet?

he hums in response, proceeding to break off the sad gaze the two of you shared. he turns away, pretending to look at the device in the opposite direction and tinker with whatever available options. however, as if syncing your mind with his, you manage to grab his wrist, the onyx, thick leather of his uniform making it harder to hold still.

“why are you like this?”

guilt washes over him yet you receive no response.

“can’t you at least pretend to be the caleb i used to know back then?”

his frail front shatters, letting his emotions take over. with one swift movement, he pulls your arm, encaging your body with his warmth - a tight embrace lolls you into an ephemeral comfort. his raven strands brush on the plane of your chest, burying his head. “would that be sufficient to truly make you happy?” despite his words being muffled, there was a hint of pain in his tone.

tears start to burn your eyes, fists balled as you hit him with barely an ounce of strength you had left. your bodies now closer than ever, straddling his legs yet an imaginary distance draws you further apart from him. caleb undoubtedly feels the same, and out of desperation, meets your pained eyes once more and softly press the margins of his lips onto yours, particularly the lower lip.

your body remains static, as if the time comes to a standstill. caleb takes this opportunity and proceeds to grip both of your wrists accordingly, raising both above your head with just one hand. his breaths begin to deepen, and yours as well, unable to take in everything that is unfolding. you couldn’t help but just wait for what he does next and caleb does not waste any more of his time.

his free hand presses a button from the bottom right corner, a hologram of option flashing the words ‘autopilot: off’. skimming over the projection with both familiarity and proficiency, he toggles the switch, making the aircraft run on its autopilot built in feature. he does all these without breaking off eye contact, the plush of your lower lips starting to swell as he unravels the chaste kiss into an open mouthed one, your saliva beginning to mix with his.

your tongues dance in a melancholic rhythm, in understanding with shared thoughts of wanting to blur the barriers separating you from him. you close your eyes and bask in the feeling, yet caleb doesn’t, intending to etch this memory as deep into his subconsciousness so he never forgets.

as you withdraw from the kiss with heavy-lidded, lust filled eyes, a trail of saliva connects your lower lips to his. he then lets go of your wrists after a minute, only for his gloved fingers gliding all the way to your chin, thumb drawing obliques on the corner of your lips. a strong sense of temptation pools in the pits of your stomach, yearning for more of the colonel’s touches and kisses. caleb picks up every detail of your body language, the previous stern expression on his face softens, a serene smile settles.

“what did i say? only i know you best . . . and can treat you best.”

a chill rakes your spine as you feel caleb’s hands toy with your breasts, stature wobbling but the male already anticipated this. a black mist emerges, the small diameter of your spatial surrounding warps, your body beginning to weigh heavier than ever. in realization, his evol momentarily holds you down, pressing your clothed region harder on his growing erection.

your brows furrow, overwhelmed, but then, the colonel wouldn’t be quickly appointed if he wasn’t as perceptive and always one step ahead of his opponent. his fingers skillfully tug at the hem of your clothing, removing the confinements of the fabric until your tits spring free, coming out in its full glory. the icy temperature within the cockpit traces shivers all over your skin, yet a foreign heat brushes over the very goosebumps.

caleb leaves kitty licks on your left tit, working his way up to the middle until the areola, the tip toying with your now hardened buds as he continually teases your body, granting him a flinch and a muted moan as a response. a strange itch starts to settle, a sense of deprivation lingers the more caleb gives your nipples attention. while your other bud is being toyed with his fingertips, he seizes the other with his mouth at this point in time, sucking on the flesh, still twirling his tongue around the bud.

a moan bubbles from your throat, unexpectedly feeling good from this foreign sensation. caleb keeps his eyes peeled open, remembering to ingrain every moment deep within, again, so he never forgets. the strange feeling sends shockwaves to your system, disrupting the harmony in your body as you begin to feel lightheaded.

sloppy sucking noises echo within the cockpit’s walls, meshed with caleb’s grunts of satisfaction alongside your moans with effort to be stifled. “let your voice out, it’s just you and me here.” he states in between breaths, still ravishing your body as if he was a predator lapping up his frail prey.

powerless before the colonel, you give in to his wishes, now letting naughty noises come undone with little to no embarrassment, solely focusing on feeling good. your mewls play an alluring tone to his ears, as if they were a reward for him being so good to your body that you feel like you’re about to ascend to the seventh heaven, if it ever existed.

caleb’s slate white trousers start to tighten, mainly the crotch part - he was getting impatient. he jerks his hips upward, arms wrapping around your waist as he moves you in sync with his movements. with the slightest friction and contact, a grunt bubbles from his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing at every shifting.

you lose track of everything that was happening, and all of a sudden, you find yourself naked atop his lap, heart thrumming thrice faster. with rather bleary vision, all you could make out of the sight in front were the gold chains glimmering from the dim lighting of the cockpit and the longing dancing in caleb’s eyes. he loosens the tie on his neck with one swift movement, proceeding to unbuckle the belt, setting free his dick from further restraints of his pants.

his breaths jagged, you could watch on how his clothed pecs rise and fall in irregular intervals. “the colonel is playing the game of unfairness.” you poke out of impulsiveness, but he understands as he also undoes the intricate enclosures of his torso’s uniform. a rewarding view then welcomes your vision, beads of sweat continue to rivulet down the sculpted plane of his chest. you place your hand at the middle, feeling his heartbeat pulsate along yours, matching in rhythm.

“i can’t keep still anymore.”

a burst of energy courses through caleb’s body, propping your body up just enough for his tip to meet with yours, guiding your hips - rubbing along your slicked labia. he throws his head back in gratification, the sound of his hat falling flat follows. at this point, his uniform has become so disheveled yet he doesn’t pay attention to any of that, he’s fully anchored on ravishing your body right before him, ready to be devoured.

with enough preparation, he finally thrusts inside your walls, your insides wrap around his girth, a comforting warmth wallows his cock whole. he groans, teeth gritted and pushes through to move. meanwhile you were there, feeling every crevice of your insides filled up from how big and thick he is. a naughty thought slips in your mind, if he’s always been at this size, why didn’t you do this sooner?

but perhaps it’s the waiting game that makes this a lot more rewarding.

simultaneously, caleb thinks the same. all sorts of lewd temptations rush to his consciousness, you were so tight that he feels cumming on the spot. you hook your arms around his neck and caleb accepts the gesture, his lips closing in on the shell of your ear. his ragged breaths ghost caresses on the part, sending chills up and down your spine all the while he builds his pace, rocking his hips, filling you in.

it was painfully slow, yet he hits the spot at every thrust. he savors every passing moment, “you’re so tight . . . you’re coiling around me.” he expresses, creases forming on the temples of his forehead. “how about you? are ya’ feeling good?” a visible struggle paints your expression that the colonel could only chuckle. “i reckon that you are as you cannot answer me anymore.”

he says as a matter of fact as all it took was a quick glance at the holograms in front of him, projecting the look on your face from the security cameras installed in the cockpit. one was from above, another just behind caleb’s seat, perfectly positioned to display how truly good you were feeling. he bites his lower lip and employs his evol once more to lighten the burden on your body, providing assistance to rock your body up and down in sync with his hips.

more deep growls of pleasure escape caleb’s lips and in between were the irregularities of his breaths. he tries to halt the knotting feeling surfacing inside him as he pumps himself into you deeper than before, the curvature of his cock just enough to make the tip kiss your g-spot, making your limbs shake in response to the sensation. a thick bead of saliva streams down the corner of your mouth, in which caleb pays attention to once again, basing on the holographic projection in front of him.

“you’re so beautiful.” he muses as he pulls out, only to fill you back up with every bit of his strength. “show that face only to me.” he says, repeating the same pattern of his thrusts.

“you’re . . .” you mumble, trying to muster strength to answer caleb’s lewd request. you attempt to catch your breath, “you’re the only one who i’d allow to do this to me.” upon hearing your response, bold hues of red tinge his ears, his momentum significantly picking up way beyond the male’s volition, as if it was his primal instinct acting.

all sorts of thoughts stir up in his mind— that should be right, he should be the only one. the only one who can hold you like this, the only one who can see you like this, the only one who can make you feel like this. it’s only him in this world.

selfishness? possessiveness? for him, these are terms used for folly, just mere misdirections of his true intentions. all he wants is to have you by his side, all he yearns for is his your touch; and only by doing so your safety can be guaranteed.

so it should be right for you to feel the same. after all, he’s the only one who understood you best - he has memorized every bit of your body language down to your little habits as if it were the back of his hand. he does all of these, so he never forgets.

never shall he ever forget.

“you’re the only one for me. and i’m the only one for you—“

“—no one can change that predestined fact.” his voice, seemingly like a soft reminder for your aching heart, manages to leave a searing mark.

at least this part of caleb seems true to the caleb that you once knew.

[neoheros]

there are very little things in this world that sakusa deems valuable enough to not risk – his game, his career, his reputation, his name.

he isn’t a gambler but he is an athlete and when you’re in his shoes, playing in the big leagues, thousands of people watching, looking, judging, there are a lot of risks you have to look out for.

he has to be quiet, polite, say the right thing, say it in the right tone, say it in the right time, otherwise, he risks his job and reputation.

he has to be focused, agile, ready for any change in the volleyball world the minute - the second - it happens, otherwise, he risks getting left behind, getting replaced by someone better, newer than him.

he has to be a lot of things and the risks of not being any of it puts him in a corner - cold and confining.

all of it, he hates with a passion, he hates with an effort. so he doesn’t take any risks at all. not when it comes to his game, his career, his reputation, his name.

but you – you are probably the riskiest person he has ever met.

i mean, you guys work together for god’s sake. it’s an HR crisis waiting to happen. it puts everything he’s worked hard for at risk — his game, his career, his reputation, his name.

but still.

you always know the right things to say to him, always know the right time he’s gonna be there or the right place to sit where he sees you so clearly even in the middle of the court.

everytime you talk to him, everytime you touch him, everytime you say his name or bring him coffee, everytime you watch him play or everytime he sees you outside of work — there is a feeling in his chest and he almost hates it.

“there’s a new ramen restaurant in miyagi that i’ve been wanting to try…” sakusa clears his throat, standing a few inches away from the lockers as everyone gets their shoes on.

it’s a little bit after 4pm, practice for the day had just ended, and well, meian always tells him he needed to socialize more with the rest of the group.

the locker room is stuffy and sweaty and to be honest, he’s never really been fond of the smell wafting in the air, so he always makes it a point to be the first one out the door after he’s done changing.

today though, he stays, hangs around everybody, and even if he hates it, he goes, “does anyone want to come with me tonight?”

hinata looks up at him from his shoes, “sorry omi, gotta take natsu to the dentist after practice, i dunno how long it’ll take us.”

he gives hinata a short nod — that’s fine.

“kaashi and i are seeing a movie around 7, but next time, man, i promise.” bokuto says, his hand on his neck, apologetic, almost.

another nod — that’s fine, too.

well, at least now, sakusa couldn’t say he didn’t try to socialize more. it’s the preferable outcome for him anyway, he’s better going off on it alone.

atsumu’s voice tears him away from his thoughts, loud and too cheerful for someone who just performed 4 diving laps, “i could go with ya, omi!”

and out of instinct, he replies “no, thank you.”

his blond teammate looks like he’s gonna say something after his response but you speak before he gets the chance to.

“well, i don’t mind coming, omi.” you say, and he blinks - how long have you been there?

there’s a knot in his stomach. “tonight?”

(he thinks, please say no, please say no, please say no.)

you nod at him, “it’s gonna be snowing so some ramen would be perfect.”

he nods at you - unable to say anything else, really - and he clears his throat, looking at atsumu, who he’s now just been really appreciative of for existing all of a sudden.

“then it will be you, me, and miya?” he asks, and he wants to keep his voice quiet now, untrusting of it.

(in the corner of his eye, he sees hinata step on atsumu’s foot and he goes “ow, whaddya do that for!” bokuto gives him a look, similar to the one hinata has, and atsumu catches on.)

sakusa gives the three of them a warning look, begging, actually begging, anyone who’d listen in that silly head of his for them not to do anything stupid.

“sorry man,” atsumu flashes him a grin, and he feels his knees go weak. “i forgot i had some plans tonight, i don’t think i’ll be able to go.”

lord, forgive sakusa kiyoomi for he’s gonna kill somebody.

he wants to say something, but before he could, you beat him to it.

“perfect.” you smile, “more for us then. right, omi?”

sakusa swallows the lump in his throat, and gives you a short nod, “yeah.”

you gather your things in your hand, “i’ll come over to your place, then?”

(words that make his knees feel even weaker.)

another nod. “yes, that’s fine.”

and he regains his composure, the worst of it over, but before you turn to leave, you flash him another one of your smiles, and he wishes you would just go so he can feel his pulse return to normal again.

“it’s a date.” you say, and you’re out the door.

sakusa’s face has a whisper of a light pinkishness to it and unable to think about it too much, he blames it on the open window letting the cold in.

the second the door closes, the locker room erupts in cheers, “way to go, omi!” “you’re going on a date!” and “it’s finally happening!”

there’s a knot in his stomach, and atsumu claps him on his back.

he rolls his eyes at the group, shaking his head as he whispers something along the lines of “whatever” or “its not a big deal.”

but his face feels hot and his pulse feels like its drumming against his skin, but, he can blame that on the cold too.

the sun goes down quicker than sakusa hoped it would, it’s 6:47pm now and you’ll be arriving in no later than 13 minutes.

he takes a good look at his apartment, ransacked and messy, the complete opposite of its usual state.

there’s a knock on his door and he feels his heart beat out of his chest at the sound.

he opens it with a fervor, “i asked you to come 30 minutes ago.”

“it’s a 30 minute walk.” behind the door is atsumu, sheepish smile on his face, hands shoved into his pockets as he pushes past the brunette and into the apartment.

“woah, this place is a mess.” atsumu says aloud, even him surprised at the disarray.

“i didn’t know what to wear.” sakusa admits, and he feels embarrassment course through his skin.

“i’ll say.” the blond replies, but he doesn’t tease. “you alright, omi?”

sakusa sighs – he really isn’t. his nerves are killing him and there’s an intense nervousness that pools in his belly. you make him nervous, did you know that?

“maybe i should cancel.” he says, and he looks at himself in the mirror again — coat, scarf, gloves, check, check, check.

“what? don’t do that.” atsumu shakes his head, “it’s five minutes ‘til 7.”

he’s probably right, sakusa thinks, you’re probably on your way by now, and even with the chilling weather outside, he feels way too hot for his own good.

he takes off his gloves to alleviate some of the warmth, placing it on his dresser as he paces.

“you’re an asshole, right?” sakusa says suddenly, “punch me in the face, take me to the ER, and i will reschedule whatever this night is to when i’m readier.”

(he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready, to be honest.)

“even if i do really want to punch you in the face right now, that is so not gonna happen.”

“being your friend is useless to me.”

“yet, i’m the one you called over here.”

the doorbell rings and the both of them freeze in their places, sakusa looks over to the clock and how is it 7 already? and must you be on time for everything?

you’re already here and his place is a mess and atsumu freaking miya is standing in the middle of his apartment.

he says the first thing he can think of, “hide.”

atsumu looks at him, “what?”

he insists, “hide now.”

“are ya nuts? your apartment is a shoebox, where the hell am i hiding in here?” atsumu shakes his head, and he follows sakusa’s eyes in response as he tilts his body to look over to the bed.

“no fuckin way, nuh uh.” he backs away, “i am not hiding under there.”

the doorbell rings again and atsumu feels the nerves getting to him too.

“please. i’ll owe you.”

and atsumu wants to say no - really, he does - he’s not some teenager caught with his pants down and has to be stashed away under a bed, but sakusa looks at him in a way that makes him unrecognizable.

sakusa may not know it, but everyone can tell, every single one of them on the team knows, just how much this means to him.

(after all, the only people in msby black jackals who don’t know that sakusa likes you are sakusa and you.)

so he relents, and he gets on his knees near the bed before he scurries off under it. “you so owe me for this.”

sakusa feels embarassed – ashamed, really. he’s actually invested in this - in this date, and he wishes he was kidding, but he’s not, and he hates it.

he opens the door, and you’re there, and it’s always nice to see you outside of work.

“hi.” he says, and he doesn’t know what else to say.

“hi.” you say back, and for a second, it’s quiet.

another second passes, “can i come in?”

and he wants to kick himself, “yes. of course.”

“it’s freezing tonight.” you make polite small talk, “good thing i wore my coat.”

“it looks nice.” he nods, and he is grateful you don’t say anything about the mess of his apartment. it takes him another beat to realize what he said, and he feels embarrassed, although he doesn’t know why, so he follows up, “the coat.”

he wants to hit himself. he sounds like he’s just talking about the coat.

“you as well.” he says again. “not just the coat, i meant to say. you and the coat are nice looking. both of you.” he wants to stop talking – why is he still talking?

he looks at you, “where’d you - uh - buy it?”

great, now he sounds like he wants to take the fucking coat.

there’s a sound almost like snickering coming from under the bed but before you could look over to it sakusa clears his throat again.

“i’m ready to go,” he says suddenly, “are you?”

you haven’t been able to get a word in all night it seems, but it makes you smile - amused, and you nod, “yes.”

the night starts off okay, it’s quiet though, and he thinks, are dates supposed to be quiet?

“you okay there, omi?” you break the silence, and he wonders if you can tell what he’s been thinking.

“yeah.” a short reply, “just cold.”

you nod, “ah.”

in an effort to keep the conversation going, and the sudden realization that he may be the reason why it’s such a quiet evening, he looks to the side, and tells you, as the two of you walk the pavement to the train station:

“i forgot my gloves.”

there’s a pink hue on his ears, and he’s grateful you don’t tease him about it.

you stop walking for a moment, so he stops too.

he watches you as you work, taking the left glove on your hand off and he says nothing when you ask him to give you his left hand.

“here.” you slip on your left glove on his left hand, and it’s a snug fit, but it is warm.

then you say, “do you mind?”

and he doesn’t know what you’re talking about until you put your - now, ungloved - left hand to his -also, ungloved - right hand. fingers interlacing.

“this way, it’ll stay warm, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t trust his voice and he’s more grateful for the snow now as he finds it being his excuse for how red his ears are getting. he can only nod his head, keeping his nose tucked in under his scarf.

his lips tremble and he’s not so sure if it’s from the cold or from you.

sakusa doesn’t gamble. he doesn’t like the risks of it all. he always feels there’s always gonna be too much to lose rather than gaining anything beneficial for him.

so no – there are very little things in the world he cares enough about for him to risk anything for.

“better?” you say, and he tries harder to focus on your voice rather than your warm hand.

“yes.”

you smile and he thinks it’s really nice. “so, why was atsumu under your bed?”

his face feels hot now, his first instinct to deny that there ever was any man named atsumu under his bed, but he knows that look you’re giving him, and he knows it would be pointless to lie.

still, he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“omi?”

but then again, he never knows what to say to you.

“… i asked him to come help me get ready.”

you tilt your head, “get ready for?”

the silence becomes your answer and sakusa feels his face burn. it feels like embarrassment – but it also feels like something else.

“oh.”

and unexpectedly, you laugh, and when he hears it, for the first time all evening, his nerves finally cool on him, and he laughs too.

you bump your shoulders with his, playful, “if it helps to know, i was nervous too.”

“because of me?” he doesn’t really believe you, he doesn’t think anything can make someone like you nervous, but you, on the other hand, make him nervous all the time.

“well, you don’t really talk to me at work,” you shrug, your voice sounding teasing, “i didn’t think you liked me all that much, to be honest.”

“sorry.” he says in quiet laughter, and he can’t bring himself to look at you.

you look at him though, and he wishes that you wouldn’t. he can hear the smile in your voice still, “for what?”

“for this shitty date.”

that makes you laugh even more and he feels like it’s gonna make him fall over.

“well, we haven’t even gotten to the restaurant yet so jury’s still out on whether it’s shitty or not.” you squeeze his hand, teasing.

(and he rolls his eyes, nerves gone, and feeling much better now that he’s talking to you.)

you are probably the riskiest person he’s ever met. you put everything on the line.

by all things considered, he should stay far, far away from you — you jeopardize it all, you could take all he’s ever worked for away.

but everytime you talk to him, everytime you touch him, everytime you say his name or bring him coffee — there is a feeling in his stomach that envelops his entire body and the corner he’s been backed into doesn’t feel as cold or as confining.

you smile at him and he wants it all: he wants to wake up next to you, he wants to fall asleep and you’re the last person he sees, he wants to drive you to work and he wants you to come home with him after the day is over.

“besides,” you say, and the snow may be cold, but his face feels warm.

your voice is soft, “you can just keep taking me on them until we get it right.”

the risk is you could take everything he’s ever worked for, his game, his career, his reputation, his name. but you smile at him and your hand is warm against his and your laugh feels like it’s gonna make him fall over, and he thinks, okay — take it all, it’s already yours anyway.

[chocochiffonnn]

MEDDLE ABOUT

➸ Pairing: Tattoo artist Jake! x Reader

➸ Word Count: 23k

➸ Synopsis: In which the experience of your first heartbreak led you to the wonders of getting a tattoo. But surprise, surprise— the tattoo artist is hot. As in, mouth-watering hot. So you keep coming back for more— both the tattoo and the hot artist making it.

➸ Themes: Friends With Benefits, Porn With Plot (smut tags below) , Strangers To Fuck Buddies To Lovers.

➸ Warnings: Jake is IMPLIED to be a playboy, he's also gives mixed signals, BLONDE JAKE!! I REPEAT, BLONDE JAKE!! Lots of cursing

➸ Smut Tags: dirty bathroom intercourse, drunk sex, Jake is mouthy and loves babbling his mouth off, dom Jake, he LOVES praising, Jake is rough with his hand, squirting, fingering (f receiving), hand job, mouth job, making out, unprotected sex, teasing, cum dumping (or whatever).

➸ Author's Note: this took me forever to finish, life + school + work has been ROUGH! sorry for the wait guys! hope u enjoy reading this as much! also, this is my first smut don’t judge pls

➸ Taglist: @titttuaf @beomgyus11 @kristynaaah

NEEDLES WERE NOT MUCH OF YOUR STRONG SUIT— the mention of something pricking your skin bears chills down your spine, though quite figuratively. There was something so odd and intolerable about it.

Some people liked to assume and correlate one’s fashion with their personalities. Adorning one’s body with dark palettes and accessories automatically meant for some that it was practically a basic practice to be relishing the skin with hundreds of tattoos, or to be acting like a delinquent in the midst of the streets.

Not for you, though.

Needles creeped the fuck out of you.

You pricked yourself with it once, the moment still replayed in your head whenever it had the chance. Sometimes, even being the cause of such a nightmare.

You hated being pricked with something so sharp, literally.

Figuratively? It was even worse.

Experiencing your first heartbreak during the first day of the second semester was ass. Correction— is ass. The moment you entered the shared room of your apartment, craving the need of a long day’s rest after endless hours of classes and work, pins and needles came crashing down and pricking upon you like a voodoo doll.

Like the ones you used to play with at the ripe age of ten, poking through your dolls as you mumble the names’ of your enemies. Like the toys you used to thrash around whenever it was all sparkly, and pink, and pretty princess-sy.

You hated it.

You dreaded the feeling, walking up with heavy steps as you see your boyfriend of five years that certain October— Doyun, making out with your best friend, on the very same sheets you cleaned. The very same pillows you fluffed, the very same room you’d design alongside him.

They felt like needles.

Thousands and thousands of it.

And it hurt like shit.

You’d left that very same room after a much deserved slap to both their faces, claiming, hoping you never see the two of them again. Fate had other plans, but at least, it was enough on your end. It was too much.

And months later, you find yourself laying down at that very same room, the space feeling empty and dull without the shared laughs and moments with your cheater of a boyfriend. Your phone clutched in your hand, scrolling through the ceaseless Pinterest inspirations of your feed, going as far as creating a board for it, labeled:

Tattoo inspos.

Needles were fucking ass, but what the fuck about it?

“Maybe this one will look good…”

It was a small sword, embedded with a sort of crisp fabric around it.

“Too tacky.” You say, scrolling through another inspiration. A skull tattoo, with wings adorning the back of it— freedom and death? “Too emo.”

You frown, clearly, there was no visible tattoo thus far to catch your attention. Feeling a bit dejected and worried, you scrolled a bit farther down the app in order to find something, anything, before you had the chance to change your mind and wuss out.

Then you notice it— a dime sized butterfly tattoo, black in color, melting in ink. It was like drawing with a gel pen on a random piece of paper, then smudging that pen to achieve a blurry effect. Except this one, except of a smudge, the butterfly looked like it was melting.

It immediately caught your attention,

“Perfect.”

~~~~~~

You really just hoped there was no shady business going down here.

Contrary to well-received reviews on their service, you must say— the place definitely looks suspicious and odd. Located beneath a train station with uneventful sights and not necessarily the most aesthetically pleasing background, safe to say you are more or less suspicious.

Tats.

The little sign above the room sparkled, the room itself was clean, decored in black and white, perfectly matching your vibe. With but prayers on your side, you entered and soon find out that contrary to what you’ve been assuming, this place does seem sterile and clean. At least… More so than the outside.

Someone greets you upon entering, a small woman who had tattoos from her arm up to her neck. He her hair was auburn, she had freckles painting her face like it was also a tattoo. From the counter, she smiles, “Welcome to tats. Walk in?”

You nod, “Yes, if that’s okay.”

The woman turns her head, grabbing some sort of paper for you to fill in your personal information. It was rather cold, and from your peripheral, you can see the stationed little booths that perhaps each tattoo artist resided and do their work in. Your hands felt rather clammy as you reached the end part of the paper, it felt like you were going to throw up, seriously.

“Alright! There’s an available artist right now, would you like to have yours done straight away?”

You nod, she smiles. “The only problem is it’s a man so… If that’s okay with you?”

“It’s okay, I’m not getting a tattoo done up my ass.” You quip, the auburn woman geniunely laughs at your joke, mumbling an ‘okay’ as she gestures to one of the nearby booths. Taking it upon herself, she exits the counter and leads you to where she’s been pointing at. “Sim Jaeyun?”

The receiving end was silent.

The woman sighs, grabbing the curtains and haphazardly opening the stall. “Jake!”

Oh no.

“What? Stop nagging.”

Sim Jaeyun— or so she calls him, rubs the back of his blonde hair as he lifted himself up from the tattoo chair, he looked like he’d just gotten out from a nap.

He’s hot.

As in— chiseled by the gods and goddesses type of hot. Like, what in the actual fuck type of hot.

“You’re sleeping again? I can’t believe you.”

Sim Jaeyun laughs sheepishly, “Sorry, sorry.”

Oh fucking no.

You visibly winced as you feel yourself checking him out. Dressed in all black, his neck up to his ears were adorned with necklaces and accessories that had you going feral.

He is exactly your type, the very epitome of you. Only difference is that he’s a man.

“Who are we getting done today?” He asks, the rasp in his voice visible as he attempts to regain consciousness. Complete Australian accent. Hot. Sexy. What the fuck?

“This is Y/N. She’ll tell you the design she wants,” The woman turns to you, “This one’s Jake, he’ll be the one to tattoo you.”

You nod. You had to retract what you said a couple of minutes prior. Maybe you just had to get a tattoo done up your ass.

“He looks like he may bite, and he actually does—” Jake cuts him off, “Yah!”

“But he’s a pretty talented artist so you’ll get your money’s worth. Just be careful, though.” The auburn woman laughs, pointing a finger towards a Jake who was visibly pouting as he arranged some of the equipment needed. “She might not end up getting a tattoo from me anymore.”

You grin, “I’ll see your skills for myself.”

“Oh?” Jake turns around, leaning against the table as he pulled the latex glove fit on his hand. “Gladly.” He smiles, you can feel him visibly stare you down. The way his eyes lingered from your head down to your feet. At this point, the auburn woman had already left to tend to another client and it was just you and him alone.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a word. He just blatantly stares. Hardly being subtle about it, and being all the more obvious. Was he checking you out?

“You can sit down now.” He says with a shrug, eyes still glued to you. You nod, knowing his burning gaze pierced through you. It made you all the more excited and thrilled. Usually, things like this weren’t one for the books given your pitiful relationship months prior.

But nobody ever plays things by the books now, everybody wants to have a little edge— to think outside of the box.

“So, Y/N.” Jake starts, holding the head of the chair as he hovers above you, “What tattoo am I making for you today?”

You shrug, pointing towards the spot just below your collarbone. “I want a butterfly.”

You notice how Jake pauses, stifling in a laugh. He turns his head to the side as his broad shoulders vibrate a bit. “What?” you ask him, not quite getting the reason as to why he’s laughing. Were butterflies outdated now?

“You don’t want one that covers the whole arm? Maybe a back tattoo?”

You physically shiver, shaking your head as a response. “Hell no. I’d appreciate it if I don’t die at my first tattoo appointment.”

Jake raised a brow, “your first time?”

Nodding, you rub your below to calm down your nerves. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” You feigned offence, Jake laughs. “No, sorry, I don’t mean it that way. It’s just that— you do look like someone who gets tattoos pretty often.”

You shrug, “So people say. Is it because of the way I dress? I also get told I’m brazen.”

Jake grabs some of his tools, the gun, needles, ink— whatever it was that was to be pricked upon your skin. You find the way he sets it up to be so distracting, men who know what the hell they’re doing has you going feral.

Paired with the nerves and the jitters of that thing, and the idea that you were actually getting a tattoo?

Any second and you might actually pass out now.

“Maybe both, I mean you do look tough.”

“Am I not?” You quip, Jake shook his head with a smirk. “Someone who gets chicken skin from needles isn’t necessarily the most toughest person out there.”

“Hey!” You counter, rolling your eyes. “We all have our own fears. Mine just happened to be needles.”

“Valid.” Jake snorts, holding the tattoo gun with his right as he sat down on one of the chairs, spreading his legs for balance. “Can I see your reference?”

You nod, pulling out your phone to show him the specific post from interest you saw last night. Jake takes a long look at it before he nods, “are you ready?”

“No.” You say honestly, holding in a breath. Sim Jaeyun smirks, fingertips brushing across your piercing collarbone. His clad fingers were cold to the touch, yet at the same time, it electrified a part of you. “I thought I’d show you some of my skills?” He whispers low.

You whisper back in response, though force and strained, “I’m not sure I’m the person to be testing that out on!”

“Shh,” He cooes, “Just relax. It won’t hurt.”

“I really hope it doesn’t.” You hold in a breath as Jake’s precise needle came into contact with your supple skin. It felt way less worse than what you’d dreamed about, what you thought about. Like being bitten by an ant, thousands and thousands of it.

From the corner of your eyes, Sim Jaeyun’s focus was unmatched. He bit the bottom of his lip, his head unimaginebly close to your shoulder. God, he smelled divine. He had his undivided focused locked on the piece of art, hands precise and delicate as it poked the ink through your skin. Strands of his blonde hair collided wit your shoulder, making you shiver all the more.

Minutes pass with Jake’s unnerved focus on your skin. Once he was done, you feel him pull back, his face unreadable. It was rather awkward on your part, eyes straying anywhere but his hair. The paintings on his wall, the equipment on his desk— anywhere but him.

“Do you want me to fill it in?” He asks, gaze boring into yours. For a moment, you forgot how to breath as you responded, “No, it’s um. It’s fine that way! Looks perfect.”

He nods, standing up from his chair and turning towards his equipment. He fixed his stuff as he spoke, “It’s best if you avoid submerging it in water for a little while. Scratching, exposure to sun, tight clothing— you know, the things any sane person would not do with a fresh tattoo.”

You nod as Jake turns towards you, handing you a piece of something from his pocket. It was a small card, with not the place’s number, but his number on it. It looked professionally made. “You hand these out to everyone?”

Jake smirks, shaking his head. “Only to those I want to send ‘em out to.”

“Oh,” You laugh, “Should I be thanking you or what?”

Jake shook his head, shrugging, “Up to you.”

You nod, perhaps slightly getting the hint of his words, the fire you were playing, and more or less, the danger this thing resided in. The danger he resides in.

“I’ll take note of that.”

“You really should,” He smiles, “I have a feeling I’ll see you around more often.”

~~~~~~

Needless to say, the urge to keep coming back for more proved to be compelling enough. You woke up that morning with a banging headache and an immense amount of urge to scratch your newly-placed tattoo.

A headache didn’t matter, the moment you woke up, it felt like all you wanted to do was go back and have your skin imprinted with another piece of ink.

Or perhaps to go back and have Sim Jaeyun’s touch somewhere else. Up your ass, maybe?

Last night, however you were immediately hit with the unfortunate announcement of an exam. With not much time to think or even let your fingertips touch Jake’s given card, you had immediately stayed the night up studying for the written exam. But you thought about it the entire time— Sim Jaeyun’s lingering touch.

Damn, does he know the effect he has on people?

Procastinating and being under time pressure worked wonders.

Waking up late twenty minutes before the said exam also worked wonders, and you find yourself scurrying around your apartment the following morning as you settle for whatever clothes and stuff you had in display to bring.

Walking along the campus of your university in a rush with a cup of coffee in hand, you rushed towards the exam site in hopes of making it in time. Then, you stumble upon something that had your eyes intrigued. You pause momentarily, gazing upon the small poster that stuck itself onto your department’s floor.

The poster of Jake’s tattoo shop. Not his tattoo shop, but the place he worked at. It offered a promo for this month, a free tattoo for one person as long as the latter was paying.

And you think for a few seconds about it until eventually, an idea popped into your head.

You had just the right person in mind.

~~~~~~

The routines that followed the rest of that day remained subtle. Classes in the morning, work in the afternoon. Until eventually, afternoon came down and you’d decided to make the eventful choice of getting another mark.

“You got a tattoo and didn’t think to even tell me?!” Lee Heeseung, one of your co-workers said dramatically. You worked at a particulary run down CD shop that had the vibes of something from the 90’s, but what you sold was only part of it.

CD’s of music ranging from classical genres to newer ones, even limited editions that artists had either cancelled or no longer sold. In the art of music, there wasn’t really anyone better than Lee Heeseung for the job. He had not only the place memorized, but also the music and its soul in general.

Not to mention, he was the attention and the focus of the customers who dropped by here. The apple of everyone’s eye— also part of the reason why this place hadn’t shut down yet. No one ever really buys CD’s anymore, yet what some fail to notice is that music is always timely— regardless of what age you lived in. Or so, Heeseung always liked to ramble on about like a philosopher.

“Come on, Hee! It’ll be like— fun.” You say the last part flatly as you fix a particular stack of CDs. It wasn’t particularly fun or satisfying on your part. Heeseung looks at you suspiciously, mouth twitched upward, looking utterly disgusted. “You are fucking scared of needles, am I supposed to believe that?”

“Uh— Yes? Cause its literally coming from me. Look,” You drop a particular CD, inching Heeseung’s finger and unveiling a part of your collarbone. “I got a small butterfly.”

Heeseung stares at it long and hard before he choked in a laugh. “Are you sure that isn’t like made with a pen or something?” his fingers attempted to brush against the mark, only for you to pull back swiftly, glaring at him intently. “Don’t touch it! It’s healing.”

Heeseung was laughing at this point, clutching his stomach as he struggled to speak, “And there I thought you got your whole arm tattooed or something!”

You pout, “I wouldn’t do that for my first tattoo! That’s like a one-way ticket to hell.”

He shrugs, “fair point, still no.”

“Come on Hee!” At this point, you were shaking Heeseung’s shoulders around, jumping up and down as you coaxed him to getting a tattoo with you. Contrary to public opinion, Heeseung was not such a big fan of tattoos, claiming he doesn’t like putting such marks on his body. But it doesn’t hurt to try, especially since you kind of know the way to Heeseung’s mind.

“You can get a CD tattoo, or an ipod, maybe a quote from a song you like the most?” You suggested with a sweet voice. Heeseung looked at you, unconvinced. Yet, his eyes were a bit more gentle and less tense than last time. Oh, you were so getting him.

“I’m paying for the tattoo, you just have to show up! It doesn’t matter if it’s small, it’s free anyways. So just accompany me— please?”

“What if I get a dick tattooed on my back, like a huge one?”

“Well— that’s your choice. Nobody’s stopping you.” Heeseung rolls eyes, “Fine, until when’s the promo?”

You grin, “Tonight.”

~~~~~~

The shop closed at 5PM with you and Heeseung traveling to the same alley you got your tattoo at, the suspicious corners and parts of town.

The sole idea of Heeseung getting a tattoo— you try and sweet talk him— is absolutely a very smart move. Girls would consider him more attractive, more customers would flock in, the sales would increase, and eventually, everyone would be happy!

“If this thing gets infected, I’m totally blaming you.”

“I’m not holding you back, I’m scared mine will get infected too.”

“You’re planning my demise, aren’t you?”

“How’d you figure out so easily?”

“You’re literally the type.”

You laugh, brushing Heeseung off. Eventually, you were met with a rather pungent smell of some dog shit as you walked along the alley. “You’re definitely planning to kill me, what the heck is this place?” Heeseung asks, disgusted as he held his nostrils with his fingers.

“I know,” You say, covering your own nose, “Trust me though, the place isn’t dirty.”

“I sure would hope not cause I’m bolting the moment you leave me here.”

Eventually, you were met with the black doors of the tattoo studio, the neon lights of the name lighting up just above— Tatts.

“Tatts? That’s exuding some immense aura.”

“I know right.”

You enter the stall with much anticipation, you hadn’t even thought about what tattoo to get next, only adamant on being here. Which is weird, you’ve never had such a stronger urge to be somewhere so fast. Like some magnet was pulling you in.

You were greeted with the same auburn woman— who you learned was named Kaiza, who entertained you during your first session. She recognized your presence, immediately smiling once she saw you, smiling even wider when she saw the person you were with.

“Y/N! Came to get your second tattoo?”

You nod sheepishly, “Yes. Is your promo still on?”

“You are currently,” she checks her watch, “lucky, because the promo ends in an hour.”

You turn to Heeseung, mumbling an ‘I told you so’ and he simply sticks his tongue out. “Are you getting a tattoo, too?” Kaiza turns towards Heeseung who nods his head, showing one of his captivating smiles. Weirdo.

“Yes, I’m with her.”

Kaiza grabs a piece of information paper, handing it towards Heeseung, he filled it in. Meanwhile, you looked around the familiar the room. Still the same as you last left two days ago. Dark, well lit, and very much gave the vibes of a tattoo studio.

Heeseung finished filling his paper up, Kaiza leads the two of you to the stalls. You hoped, you really hoped—

“Sim Jaeyun is here today, would you like to get your tattoo done by him?”

“Yes! I mean— yeah, yeah, that’d be chill.”

You can sense the way Kaiza’s face contort into that of mischief, Heeseung remains oblivious to the way you so eagerly give way to such a statement. He was too busy admiring the room, and ultimately, Kaiza.

You can’t blame him, the auburn woman is sure as hell attractive.

“There are two other people here who can do your tattoo, Heeseung.”

“Do you do tattoos?”

“Me? Yes… Why?”

“Can you do mine?”

Damn!

You swiftly look at Heeseung with a smug look, nudging him ever so slightly with your elbow and wiggling around. Heeseung knows what you’re implying, and he chooses to ignore your little antics and teasing, opting to shoot his shot instead.

You feel Kaiza laugh, “Hmm. Do you want me to?”

Heeseung shrugs, “I’d want my first tattoo to be memorable.”

Oh you had to give it to him. If there was ever a time where it rained of cockiness and confidence in flirting— perhaps Heeseung was there, with his arms wide open, catching every single drop. Kaiza bites into his oblivious flirting as she drops you off to Sim Jaeyun’s corner.

She opens the curtain, only to find the man, once again, splayed out nonchalantly in the tattoo chair. His black clothes blended in a bit with the chair, aside from part of his arms, shoulder, and head. He quite literally just wore a tank-top, exposing his muscular arms which surprisingly, had no tattoos.

“Jake, Y/N’s back.”

“Oh, really?” This time, Jake wasn’t

napping. Rather, he was playing a random game on his phone, eyes focused on tapping the screen. Once he heard your name roll off Kaiza’s tongue, he closed his phone and threw it to the side. Jake ruffled his hair, looking at you with quite an unreadable look. “I’m guessing showing my skills worked?” He quipped, you rolled your eyes, “Shut up, I have a growing interest for tattoos now.”

Kaiza and Heeseung bid goodbye, with the latter harshly patting your back and mumbling a short, ‘this the dude? pretty valid.’

Despite the fact that you hardly told Heeseung anything, he just somehow seemed to know. But you can tell he wasn’t really here to scold, with the way he followed the auburn woman around to get his, “tattoo.”

“What are we getting this time? Don’t tell me its an ant now.” Jake stands from the chair, going over to his equipment. “I haven’t really thought about it honestly.”

“Oh?” Jake stops momentarily, turning around to look at you. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this for fun.”

“Maybe I am doing this for fun.”

He leans back in his desk, arms crossed. ”You probably just came over to see me again.”

Dead serious, you looked at him straight in the eye and responded, “Yeah, that’s actually the reason why.”

Part of Jake’s blonde hair covered his left eye, the other low yet unnerved towards your body language. You felt a little clammy and small under his gaze, but you kept yourself still and grounded even with the way he strips you bare with his gaze alone. That same look he used the first time he saw you, the first time you spoke. Then, Jake laughs.

“You weren’t lying when you said you’re bold and brazen.”

You shrug, “Can you blame me? You’re like—” pointing towards him, “that.”

He leans his head to the side, an amused look on his features. ”Like what?”

“Like an absolute meal.” You say, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing ever. Jake laughs, twisting his head to the side. “You find me that attractive?”

“Just alright.” You had to somewhat humble him. Jake does his usual routine of setting his equipment up, until he was already sitting beside you and you layed down the chair. “Where’s your next tattoo gonna be?”

You think about it for a moment. Though you’ve no particular interest as to what design you wanna do, there is a specific place your mind desires for his craft.

“Beneath my chest, ribcage.”

“Y/N, are you serious?” Jake deadpans, pulling his gun back. You nod, “Dead serious. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You know that’s like, one of the most painful places to get a tattoo at?”

“I’m well aware.”

“So you’re fully aware of the consequence this may bring, yes?”

You shook your head. You know it’s going to hurt, but how bad it’s going to hurt, you absolutely did not know. “It’s probably going to hurt like hell.”

“It’s going to hurt more like hell,” Jake clarified, “What design are we doing?”

“I don’t know, you tell me."

“I’ll tell you?” Jake feigns amusement, he was surprised. Usually, when people come in to get their tattoos done, they already have something in mind. “What do you mean I’ll tell you?”

“I don’t really know what tattoo I want, you got any suggestions?”

He can put a piece of dick or shit on your ribcage for all you care and you would absolutely thank him for it. Jake thinks about it for a moment, leaning back against his chair, “are you letting me decide your tattoo right now?”

“Yes, it’s why I’m asking you.”

“Are you sure? You may not want to trust me with something like that.” He leans forward, fingers pointing towards your black shirt. Taking the hint, you lift the hem of the fabric, exposing part of your stomach and ultimately, the part just beneath your bra. Jake stares, inching his hand towards the spot effortlessly, as if he’s done this hundreds of times before. And he probably has for the most part.

His cold touch sent electric shivers down your spine as your ribcage felt the sensation of his crisp fingers. “What have you been into these days?” Jake asks.

“What specific category are we looking for here?”

“Nothing in specific, just…” He shrugs, “anything general you’ve been obsessed with?”

“Tattoos maybe?” He laughs, “just that?”

“Well, I’m a med-student so probably any thing related to that.”

In your eyes, perhaps Jake thought of you as a colorless book, someone who sought out the adventures of being bad because you always bury your noses in those textbooks. Like a nerd or something, like most people would assume for such students.

“A med-student? Really?” He asks, with a surprising interested glint in his eyes. You nod, “I know, might seem boring but—”

He quickly intervenes, “no, no. I mean, you’re out there what? Training to save lives? That’s so fucking cool.”

“You think of that as cool?” You ask, surprised. Jake nods like a little puppy, the tousle of his hair straightening along as he agrees. “That’s the most overbearing course you could possibly take.”

“It gets me overstimulated all the damn time so pretty understandable.”

Jake laughs, “so like, a stethoscope or something?”

You shook your head swiftly, “Oh, hell no!” As much as you somewhat appreciated your course, never in your life would you leave remnants of such in your body. Simply traumatizing, too traumatizing.

“Think of something that represents you as a whole, Y/N.”

Something that represents you as a whole…

“I can’t think of anything.”

“If that’s the case, do you trust me enough?”

You nod almost too quickly. “I do.” Jake laughs, the corners of his face tugging along into an expression of mischief. Never in his career has he tattooed someone who doesn’t precisely know what they want. Usually, something like this would require decisions. And for you to throw that choice out the window for him?

Jake felt his pride begin to swell up.

“Do you go to college, Jake?” You ask amidst the silence as Jake nears your ribcage. He nods, “Surprised? I go to the same campus as you.”

If anything, you were the one surprised. “Really? What course are you taking?”

“Applied Physics. I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to that.”

Oh. You definitely did not peg Jake as someone who is into anything Science. You can see the way part of his face turned slightly sheepish, yet the jolt of pain in your ribcage came following along straight after. You winced, “oh shit, you weren’t lying when you said it’d hurt.”

“I told you.” Jake mumbles, feeling you wiggle slightly. His other hand which stabilized itself onto your ribcage settled just around your waist, attempting to keep you still. “Don’t move around, stay still, yeah?”

“Sorry…” You mumbled, wincing as he poked the gun and the ink into your skin. You don’t know what he was doing down there, but for the most part, you kind of trusted him. “I didn’t think you’d be the— shit,” you bit your lip as another jolt of pain came pushing through, “type of person to be interested in courses like those.”

“So people would say. I’ll brag, I’m pretty good at what I do.”

“You look like you’re good at everything.” You quip, rolling your eyes as Jake laughs along. It was a subtle conversation of asking each other one’s interest, hobbies, things in life, and things that may spark some interest between the two of you.

Eventually, you learned that Jake was currently on the second year of his course. A total physics nerd, with the way he randomly inserts some of his knowledge of his topics over to you. Jake also was quite the opposite of what most people would assume someone working in a tattoo shop would be like.

He’s gentle, he loves dogs, he’s always been rather crafty, he enjoys dancing. But one certain assumption that sits just right for his entire image?

Sim Jaeyun is a playboy at heart.

A big ass fucking playboy and heartthrob.

Sounds like a cliché statement to say the least, like something from a 2000’s romcom, but his stories were testimonies enough that indeed— Sim Jaeyun loved to meddle around.

You asked him how many girlfriends he’s had for the past year (choosing to be a little brave), to which he said none, because he said he absolutely hated committing but wouldn’t mind the thrill of just one night stands.

You asked him if he’s ever been to a bar or a club before and he’s been to plenty.

The tattoo itself eventually finishes after what felt like forever, Jake was intent on his work, every detail, precise and accurate. And once he was done, he pulls back and lets you judge the moment for yourself. The skin had reddened just a tiny bit, fingers came to graze along the spot just near the tattoo.

The tattoo extended from the bottom of your ribcage down to the curve of your hips. “I hope you don’t mind, but this one doesn’t really have a specific meaning. Just something that I think would suit your whole vibe.”

You stare at it, long and hard. In absolute awe of what Sim Jaeyun was capable of doing. “You really know what you’re doing…” you mumble as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Jake laughed as he cleaned up the rest of his stuff, “Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“It swells my pride up, you know.”

He meant it as a joke, but perhaps Sim Jaeyun truly lived by the compliments he gets on his work. You smile, “but you are good.”

“You’ve thought about it?”

“Hmm? About what?” You were still gawking over your tattoo. “The card. My number.”

“Oh?“ Your face turns into that of mischief, “I thought that was purely for business, Sim Jaeyun. I didn’t know you wanted me to get your number.”

“And here I thought I made it pretty clear.”

You laugh, “I’m just kidding, I’ve been so busy I haven’t gotten time to go over it.” Jake crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side as he eyed you, the same mischievous look on his face. “Am I blatantly being rejected right now?”

You shrug, “Gotta think about it, you know?” But you know there was nothing really to think about it. The clear answer: absolutely yes.

“You’re a bit difficult.” He mumbles, inching closer ever so slightly. He stood in front of you, his chest and arms flexing unintentionally. Going to the gym must also be one of his habits because– damn. “It’s not anything new.”

Jake smirks, “And yet you’re interested?”

You’d forgotten all about your tattoo at this point, shamelessly exposing yourself as you check him out. How could you not? He always looked attractive, smelled good, you bet he’d probably feel good too.

God, you know the consequences this would entail, yet you’re jumping in anyways. “I am interested, Sim Jaeyun.”

Jake chuckles, “You’re cute.”

You bit back a, “I’m quite well aware.”

He leans down, head coming face to face with yours. Surprised, you retracted your head away. Jake was suddenly being bold now, closing the distance between the two of you. But from this angle, you can see the sharpness of his features more clearly. The slight slit on his right brow, the tip of his nose, his long lashes.

He felt even more handsome and attractive up close.

“And a bit bratty too.”

Shrugging, you level his boldness and cross your arms as you inched your head a bit closer, “So they say.”

“Just my type.” Jake’s fingers brushed against your chin, keeping it in place. He lifted your head slightly, eyes glued over to the way you wet your tongue. There was this tension gnawing away in the air, as if mumbling— who’s going to break it first?

And Sim Jaeyun’s eyes were tempting you in the most oddest way possible. But he wasn’t doing anything but edging and dragging this out, so why should you make such moves?

It goes on for a while, the endless suffering of trying to keep your cool, until Jake eventually breaks the ice, “You’re really just my type, you know?”

It swells your pride a bit, despite the gut feeling in your stomach telling you he’s pulled this certain script hundreds of times before. “How many times have you said this to other girls?”

Jake pursed his lips, “does it really matter?”

And you think about it for a moment— your entire situation with him. You know you’ve been playing with fire the entire time, adding fuel and gasoline each time you come here and flaunt your presence like some sort of prize. “No, it doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

“To answer your question, Y/N—” He diverts his touch away from your chin, “You’re the first one I’ve used this script on.”

~~~~~~

Heeseung left the booth with not a tattoo, but with a huge kiss mark on his left collar.

Oh, and his right collar, his neck, his— everywhere. You can faintly see the poor attempt at trying to brush and clean it off, but Kaiza painted her lips a enticing crimson red— that same color on the said man’s existence.

He looks at you with a smug grin, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here.”

“Did you really get a tattoo? Or did you just get laid?” You teased Heeseung, nudging him. He shook his head, “I got one at the back my neck, look.”

He shows you the colorful mark on the nape of his neck— a tiny music note, noticeable but not so much with a collar on. “It looks sick, you are absolutely welcome.”

“I may have gotten a bit of her lips, too.”

You roll your eyes, “Heeseung, I don’t really think you got just a bit?”

Heeseung laughs, opting not to answer your own question and leave you to wonder on your own. It didn’t matter for you, though. You had your own matters to ponder about.

You must be crazy.

Jake must be crazy.

But he was even more crazier, because how the fuck was it even possible for a human to kiss and makeout that good?

“I think I need a fucking drink.” Heeseung drags along as the two of you exited the shop with less enthusiam, putting his arm around your shoulder. “You literally told me you don’t drink, Hee.”

“That changes today, this calls for a celebration!”

You laugh, “a celebration for what? Getting your first kiss?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, sharing a frown. “I’ll have you know, that was not my first kiss.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You weren’t really having it, though. As far as you know, Heeseung’s lips were as virgin as the color white. He loved flirting, but he never really went to the point of actually kissing somebody.

“Middle school kiss is not considered, though.”

”Well fuck— then that was my first kiss.” He feigns defeat, throwing his arms in the air. You snort in response, “absolute amateur, and yeah, I’m down for a drink.”

“Heck yeah! See? You’d agree in the end anyways.”

“Only beause I need it too.

And you really do.

“Perfect. Same time, same club later. Wear something nicer.” Heeseung removes his arm from your shoulder, shrugging his. It was a bit of a routine, really. Clubbing, partying— since the unfortunate incident of your breakup, the idea of having fun hadn’t really crossed your mind for a few weeks due to keeping yourself cooped up in your room.

That was until, Heeseung introduced you to drinking and releasing your problems away in a certain club you now frequented. A dangerous and tempting hobby to wallow in, but hey, you’re still a pretty well maintained pre-med student with complete control over your identity.

So, it didn’t hurt that you you indulge yourself in the manner every once in a while.

Always with a guy, and always with Heeseung, that is.

“Are you telling me I look ugly in what I’m wearing right now?” it doesn’t take a second before Heeseung was snorting and patting your back harshly, enough to have you fling over and lose your balance.

“Don’t pull me with that shit, you know what I mean.”

“Whatever.”

And you know that Heeseung entirely meant going wasted tonight and getting laid.

~~~~~~

Contrary to what most people would assume about medical students— you are a bit of a troublemaker yourself.

Buried beneath textbooks of foundational sciences highlighted only five days of your week. For the remaining two days? You absolutely relished on going full out. Not so much as to drink liters of alcohol every weekend, but exploring wild things had grown to be a hobby of yours after your relationship ended.

Right now, it seemed the end of the week greeted you with clubbing and wasting away.

“Stay close to me as usual unless you like— double, triple check the dude, okay?”

This was one of Heeseung’s usual routines, keeping you in line and making sure you don’t get yourself into a little trouble. You nod as usual, grateful for the concern as you felt you might need it. With the way you dressed and exposed more than a half of your bare skin, perhaps hands were definitely going places towards your figure.

Heeseung and you enter after the bouncer checked your IDs, and you were immediately met with the booming music of Rihanna’s— We Found Love— coming in full volume.

“Perfect timing!” You shout to Heeseung’s ear, and he grins, responding, “Let’s get drinks first!”

The two of you entered through the mixed bodies and sweat, absolutely in love with the way everything just seemed to unveil and ungrasp here. No professors screaming at your ear, no missed deadlines, no piles of homework due the following day. This, was the life. The fucking paradise, really.

After much mingling with random strangers, you eventually reach the counter filled with alcohol, a random bartender shaking away the order of another. “What’re you getting?” Heeseung asks you through the loud noise, “Daiquiri!” You respond back.

Heeseung chuckles, “Feeling the summer spirit, ‘aye?!” copying the accent of a British man. You smacked him in the arm, “Shut up!”

Heeseung nears the bartender, claiming a drink of his own. He hands you your own drink, and you down it with much enthusiam, the cold sensation of the citrusy alcohol rushing through your throat and making shivers run down your spine. At this point, you sat at one of the high stools as Heeseung stood in front of you, relishing his old fashioned whiskey cocktail— like an old man.

”Gonna need like a few more drinks to have my feet jumping around.” Heeseung admits, you nod along. It isn’t necessarily fun doing anything sober, when you can be a little tipsy and on edge. Finishing the first drink with much ease, you soon followed by ordering a different beverage from the bartender. And another Daiquiri, and another, and another.

It was a process of going back in forth for drinks, with Heeseung somewhat forgetting his starement from earlier and drifting off to— well, god knows where, probably swaying his hips along to the music in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t mind though, enjoying a bit of the company you provided yourself, relishing the way you looked— the way you felt tonight.

Strangely enough, you felt odd. Not in a unfortunate sort of odd, but certainly a feeling that sent your senses in a bit of alert. You can’t help but feel that someone was watching you, taking in the way you sip your drink, or the way you cross your legs.

You scan your eyes across the room, squinting through the radiant party lights and trying your best to make do. You were, perhaps, just feeling a bit paranoid.

Shrugging, you chose to brush the feeling off, heading straight to the dance floor to get your mind away from whatever that was. The groove of the music made it easy for you to occupy your riddled mind, swaying your hips along the tune of the music and raising your arms up in the air. Yeah, that tattoo on your collarbone and ribcage definitely made you feel times sexier and more… Untamed?

“Careful there.” A voice chimed in, gripping you by the waist in an attempt to balance your figure. You mumble an apology back, though not really a hundred percent sorry, and grinding your behind on the random stranger instead. As in— full on grinding and rubbing it against their pelvis.

You were even giggling, repeating your apology a couple of times beneath your breath, but your body swaying around proved otherwise.

“Are you comfortable shaking your ass on random strangers?” The said voice whispered on your ear— all too familiar and recognizable on your part. You shrug your shoulders, shouting, “It’s a club! Let loose a little.”

And let loose you did, letting your body fall along the rhythm, disregarding the fact that a pair of arms were most likely on you. It goes on for a little while, the music changing for a little while and you danced around. One thing remained certain, that grip never left you at all.

Feeling rather curious and perhaps a bit annoyed as to why someone could be so possibly clingy in a club, you turn around and discovered the reason why.

Oh. Yeah.

You were glad you turned around.

Because what in the fucking parallel universe or plot is this? Discovering it had been Sim Jaeyun’s strong grip of arms keeping you close was one thing, seeing him this fucked out and wasted? It was another thing completely.

It looked like the alcohol consumed him partly, evident on the way his cheeks flushed and his hair felt like it had been raked way too many times. Time had gone slow motion for a bit, with Jake’s piercing eyes treading holes through yours— those same ass eyes he used during your first and second tattoo session, only this time, it seemed or felt like all control was gone.

Is it really?

That’s why the strong scent of something was familiar, that’s why there was this feeling that someone’s eyes were glued to you the entire time.

But Jake doesn’t speak, neither does he move. And when he sees he’s been discovered, he merely grins and nears your ear to whisper, “You wanna fuck?”

And your response?

“God, I’d love to.”

~~~~~~

Sim Jaeyun is anything but patient.

Frankly speaking, the moment he laid his eyes on you at the bar, all sense of self-control had dissipated and gone through the roof.

How was he supposed to control himself when he saw your skirt raked up exposing the curve of your ass? How was he supposed to remain calm when you were grinding that ass on him like it was your last dance?

God, if anything, you were lucky he opted not to tackle you the moment you entered that dance floor, swaying your hips around feeling all needy for attention. Sim Jaeyun hardly goes to the middle, deeming it as too crowded and overstimulating, but hell— the moment your heels clicked and took a step forward, he just knew he had to keep you close to him.

Partly because he doesn’t want any other creeps getting to you, and also because he really is fucking thirsty and hungry, too.

So when the small of your back harshly hits the bathroom wall, you don’t argue. When Sim Jaeyun’s lips crashed onto your neck, breathing and inhaling you in— you don’t argue.

Holy fuck. This was an entirely different scenario from days before.

“Nice to see you again, too.” you mumble through heaved breaths, Jake’s lips marking kisses all over your neck. He rakes a hand through your head, groaning as he did so. “Mmh. That was fucking torture.”

You laugh, “I didn’t know that person I was dancing on was you. What did you drink tonight?”

But if you were being honest?

You felt it was him.

It seemed Jake felt that too, parting from your neck for a moment to ghost his lips over yours, “really? Hmmm… Boulevardier.”

Oh, so that’s why.

And he gives you a gentle peck on the lips— like a lover’s kiss. He doesn’t dwell on it long though, resuming his business down your neck. “Can I touch you?” Jake asks for permission, as if he wasn’t already doing that by keeping both of your hands still up your head.

You giggle, feeling him bite down the sensitive skin. He absolutely reeked of alcohol, but Jake’s sense of control and stability was insane. “Been wanting to touch you the moment you got that fucking tattoo.” He admits truthfully, sneaking his other hand down your trembling legs.

It was hard to bite back a moan, to filter out your reaction, yet you pull yourself back, letting Jake do all the talking for now. “You know how sexy you looked in this dress?”

His fingers fully slips in, grazing the hem of your panties. Fuck. “How badly I wanted to just get this off of you?” in a split second, he pulls the underwear down, the cool air hitting your bare skin. The way you shivered underneath his grasp didn’t go unnoticed, and he laughed at the way you attempted to close your legs for some heat.

Jake prods one of his legs to keep yours open. And then? He dips down and he shit— he devours your bare pussy like a man starved for years. It must be the alcohol consuming you, because when in the hell did he get there?

But it didn’t matter now, for Jake was full on licking, slurping, nourishing your cunt.

Now you don’t hold yourself back, now you moaned out his name in full pride and glory. “Jake— fuck, I—”

The sounds were pornographic at best, with Jake’s tongue absolutely wrecking your arousal filled pussy, two of his hands gripped both cheeks of your ass as he spreads it open— as he spreads you open much wider. “Mmh, yeah— s’good.”

You grip his tousled hair, feeling your back slide down due to the immense pressure his mouth provided. But Jake wasn’t having any of that shit, lifting himself up for a second, wiping the remnants of your juices from his mouth. He carried you with ease over to the toilet chair, closing the lid as he unfurls your thighs once more.

He doesn’t eat you out this time, taking two of his long fingers, slipping in the same hole. “So wet babe— hell, it’s taking my fingers in so well. Shit.” Jake nears your fucked out face, letting his left hand caress your hair as he peppered kisses to your forehead. He must love kissing and making out because the amount of remnants his lips left on parts of your body was uncountable at this point.

Jake couldn’t really be blamed, though. It felt like you were a fragile little doll in his hands, even if you are anything but that. Such a precious little thing beneath his grasp, god— he felt himself go absolutely insane. He didn’t expect to see you here, over at the bar he frequented, but hell was he glad.

Jake continued to scissor you open, in out, in out, his fingers were completely disappearing and reappearing from the slick juices of your cunt. And he absolutely fucking loved it. His boner at this point was already uncontrollable, but he hadn’t really payed much attention to his own needs given that you were here. And you needed much attention.

Scratch that, he really just wanted a taste of you.

“Jake, you’re hard- fuck!” You moan when he hits a particular spot that had you rolling your eyes back. Jake chuckles, “Shh, baby it’s alright. I’ll let you deal with it later, yeah?” fingering that particular spot with much force and enthusiasm. Sim Jaeyun was a fucking menace— he was absolutely divine with the way he worked his fingers and prodded into your throbbing hole with ease.

“You see how well it takes my fingers in baby?” Jake babbles, keeping his eyes glued to his motions. “I fucking wonder how well you’ll take my throbbing dick.”

The way Jake spoke is something surprisingly different. You half-expected it, this particular image of him loving all the dirty talk when he gets his fair share of sex. But experiencing and witnessing it first hand is a different story altogether.

You stick your tongue out, oblivious to the way Jake stares in awe. The absolute fucking guilt of having fantasized about something like this during your first meeting with Jake had long disappeared. Somehow, you just knew Jake thought of this too.

It wasn’t hard to believe, given how he seemed to be so adamant on pleasuring you, praising you, all while his own boner and hard-on left him wincing every once in a while in pain. It hurts every time he sees your pussy clench and drench his fingers. He doesn’t know what came over him, you were just so sexy it hurt.

Taking matters into your own hands, you free your grip from his shoulders, swiftly grabbing hold of the belt of his pants and unbuckling it with shaky hands. “Damn- you want it?” Jake groans, momentarily stopping all sorts of pleasure on your cunt.

You barely muffle out a hum, pulling his pants down along with his boxers, his throbbing, leaking dick bouncing against your supple cheeks like a scene from a porn movie. Jake has had his fair share of porn movies, but nothing came close to the way you stroke and teased his skin and massaged his balls.

Jake straightens his posture, keeping his hands on your head as you minded your business on his already leaking cock. It smelled musky, slightly tangy and sweet like the alcohol that tainted his mouth minutes prior. Slowly, you took one languid lick at tip of his dick, then dragging that very same tongue down his length.

Down, down, down.

Until your muscles eventually reached his balls, the warmth of it soothing your face. You cupped it with both hands, relishing each and every part of Jake’s dick. You’ve thought of this before— Jake’s ridiculously long and girthy cock tracing itself on his dark pants. It was torture, you think every time.

Because Jake is big.

And it seemed his member’s only getting bigger everytime you touch or do so much as tease it.

Without much of a warning, Jake takes full control of your head and shoves his entire cock whole inside of your mouth. He just stuffs it inside your mouth, completely ignoring the fact that you were choking. “Fuuuck— yeah, take it in just like that.” he whined. Hearing Jake whine was enough of an indication and a button for you to bob your head up and down, down and up— fully intent on getting him to release those sounds just as much as he did with you.

“You know what you’re doing– shit. Taking me in so well…” He pats your head, retracting it for a second then slamming in with full force. You could hardly breathe, but you fucking loved the sensation you were feeling— the sensation you were fucking feeding Sim Jaeyun. This was all such a catch. Despite the slightly smelly and sticky feeling of having sex inside the bathroom of the bar, the thrill of possibly getting caught any time now has you more aroused than ever.

Hell, you only wished Jake locked the door before entering here.

“Mmh, don’t worry about the doors. I made sure I— fuck!” Jake threw his head back as the entirety of his cock reach unimaginable lengths down your throat. You kept your hands glued to the side of his thighs, looking up at him with such eyes. Jake felt his warm member twitch at the sight alone. So feeble, so adorable— so not mouthy with your snarky mouth stuffed with cock. His own cock. Jake caressed your cheeks, smiling as he did so, “I made sure I didn’t lock the doors. You want the thrill, don’t you?”

Frantic, you pat his thighs and tried to pull yourself away from him. Tried. Jake wasn’t having any of it, stern on keeping your head bobbing up and down his length. “The thrill of getting caught, yeah?”

You stopped fighting all sense of sanity, and instead, focusing on swallowing down Jake whole.

Who cares if you get caught anyways? What the fuck ever. This was worth taking the risk for.

It takes a little while more to get him to finally release and whimper out your name, “Oh- I’m cumming. Take it in, shit. Take it in—”

Jake’s spurts his white semen inside your velvety mouth, the warm bitter taste coating it. He keeps your head close, making sure you were taking in every ounce of his liquid. Sim Jaeyun felt stars circle his eyes— that was the best head he’s gotten in his lifetime.

“You’ve done this before?” He asks as you retract from his head and wipe the side of your mouth with the back of your hand. Shrugging, you nod, “had a boyfriend I used to do this to.” admitting the fact that this wasn’t your first time. Surprised, Jake smirks and rubs your lips gently. You still kneeled beneath you while he towered over you. “Oh? Why’s he your ex now?”

“For the record,” you stood up from your position, grasping Jake’s cock once more as you prepared for the finale. The next big thing. And gosh, you were thankful because he was immediately rock hard, absolutely unbothered with the way you sucked and teased him earlier. He must be enjoying this too. “He couldn’t eat me out very well, couldn’t place his dick inside here either.”

Jake halts your hand from going any further, his restriction now coming into play.

“As much as I’d really love to fuck you right now, Y/N–” he laughs, “it’s kind of smelly in here. My car, instead?”

And as impatient as you were, you nodded, because it was damn repugnant in this public bathroom.

~~~~~~

“I’ll go straight to the point, it’s making me so damn impatient.”

Exiting the club and slipping out from the mindless people was easy, after the alcohol had somewhat left your system from the tension that occured minutes prior, it felt like you were ready to take Jake in. As in— as a fucking whole with a big cock like that.

It seems he shared the same sentiment, immediately pulling you over the back seat and letting your back meet the plush mattress. It smelled divine inside his car, a mix of licorice and something woody at the same time. You know he uses the same scent on himself.

Jake immediately prods the hem of your already raked up tight skirt, clutching your worn out pussy and circling your clit with his thumb. Giggling, you pull his head closer to yours and kissed him. Jake gladly reciprocated the action, you feel his lower half fumbling about as he unfurls his pants.

Getting it back on was such a pain in the ass.

“You taste like candy, god- you’re making me go insane.” he then attacks your neck by riddling it with marks. One mark after another, each one more darker than the next. “Gonna fucking mark you mine, show that ex of yours what he’s missing out on.”

“Mmh, please do, Jakey…” the nickname felt foreign and new against your tongue. He must’ve loved this though, cause the second after, he was all up your lips and whispering random praises. Jake’s good at this— pampering you, peppering you, absolutely fucking needing you like it was his last. “You want that baby?”

He twirls his thumb and index finger at your clit. “Want me to show you who’s doing this better?”

And there was absolutely no question about it. In perhaps any other universe out there— he will and will always do shit better. But you nod, choosing to swell his ego and pride a bit. This causes Jake to smirk as you feel something wet and warm hit the opening of your cunt. “You on the pill?” he asks and you nod.

Something ignits within Jake, a sudden idea coiling in the back of his mind as he says, “I’ll paint your walls clean, that okay?”

And you?

You whine pathetically, “all yours, Jake… Just please put it in.”

Hell, if Heeseung or if your parents knew what in the fuck you were saying right now, you don’t think you’d honestly live through it. But in the spur of the moment, it all feels so sexy and so erotic. Nothing has ever felt so raw and shameless before. Not with your ex who could barely get you to cum, most of all not with anyone else.

Without a warning, Jake pressed his entire cock inside your unaware cunt. It was practically a given at this point that Jake was big. As in— humungous. You visibly winced, feeling each and every corner of your insides being stretched out from his cock alone. This wasn’t your first time having sex, but this is is your first time having a cock this big down your pussy, feeling just right like a puzzle piece.

“Shit, you’re squeezing me too much, baby…” Jake groans, feeling his hips go numb for a moment as he falls forward and kisses the nape of your neck. He caressed your waist, gently pecking your cheek. “Relax…” He tells you, and you do, welcoming his member after each and every breath. The comfort Jake offered made you chuckle a bit, a sense of ease allowing your tightness to loosen up a bit from the tension.

“I’ll move, yeah?” He whispers through tight breaths, as do you, clutching his bicep. Jake feels you ease in to his cock that protruded your entrance, and he slams it. Hard. Fast. Definite. Hitting the walls of your cervix so damn good.

You feel your ear go numb at the sensation, Jake faltered too, pressing some of his bodyweight on you as he mumbled curses, “Mhm, you’re squeezing me still— shit. I can’t last long with your pussy like this.” He drunkenly says.

Sim Jaeyun was fucking intoxicating.

Doing all this.

Speaking like this.

“God, Jake, you make me go- i-insane…”

Jake chuckled, “Do I baby?” kissing you once more in places he finds accessible, “do you like me being this deep on your little cunt?”

You nod.

“This feels so good, yeah? Bet you’ve been eyeing my cock too the moment you got your tattoo.”

Jake was practically moving on autopilot at this point, swaying his hips back and forth, and your fucked up pussy attempting to accomodate his fast movements.

And you agree.

Not only because it felt good.

But also because he was the one doing this to you.

This night might as well go on for forever.

Jake hits a particular spot down your squelching cunt, erupting the tiniest whimper from you. He grins, “this—” pushing his cock a little harder down that very same spot. “one?”

And you’re absolutely gone. Babbling his name, screaming for him to hit it farther down. And Sim Jaeyun fucking does, he pistoned his hips, eyes travelling down to the way you soak him in so good and refuse to let his cock leave your pussy, enveloping him in such a way that had him going dizzy.

It doesn’t take long before he was on the brink too, cursing as he licked your lips and gave you marks around your neck, not tattoos this time. “I’m coming baby- so close.”

“‘M too, Jakey— keep going.”

“Gonna paint you clean, okay?” he mumbled, “make this pussy mine yeah? You want that too right? You need this too?”

It felt like he was begging with the way he spoke, but it was so hot and so sexy that you can’t help but nod and agree with his fucked out statements. You tell him you’d want to be fucked like that, you tell him he can absolutely fucking paint your walls pure white with his cum.

The last thrust, and Sim Jaeyun loses all control and you feel his warm liquid spurting through your squirting cunt, each and every drop of it not going to waste as he made sure to keep his cock inside your throbbing hole.

He merely watches as he keeps his cock there, pouring all of his cum erotically.

The sweat was nothing compared to the bar earlier, the hot humid air in the car making you feel so sticky and warm all together. Jake pulls his member out of your pussy, wiping the excess and inserting it back to its rightful place— your hole. He smiles once he sees you shiver when his fingers delved in. But you were too tired, too worn out.

And without much of another word, the next thing you saw was black.

~~~~~~

Caramel. Vanilla. Coffee beans.

The scent of something stirs up your system awake. The perfect breakfast.

Suddenly, you were hit with something far, far greater. This did not feel like your sheets, and you never cooked or had breakfast around.

Swiftly, you opened your eyes to find yourself wrapped in a whirlwind of emotions. You weren’t naked, clothed in a shirt that was twice your size, and you were certainly not in your room, either. The remnants of last night scrambled through your brain, your head pounding like never before.

You remembered everything.

From Jake’s eyes glued to you the entire night, to his body connecting with yours.

It was abominable, but it was so perfect at the same time. You cringed at the fact that you were truly experiencing this, getting laid with your hot tattoo artist you met for a few days.

It’s stupid.

Really stupid.

You slap yourself in the cheek with far more force intended, cursing beneath your breath. Looking around, you saw how organized and clean Jake kept his room. Contrary to yours riddled with sticky notes and papers for reviewers, he had minimal stuff around (as do most men) with only a bed, bedside table, closet, and a large desk with his devices.

The room was relatively dim and dark, the design catering perfectly up to Jake’s taste. Then, the smell of bacon intrigued your nose.

It must be Jake, cooking something up.

You picked yourself up on your feet, only to discover that you physically can’t. Or at least, it was hard to do so given your legs felt so bruised and incapable from the sudden gush of pain hitting your thighs and your— yeah, well, down there.

“Fuck, was it that brutal?” you whisper to yourself, attempting to make way to the kitchen and navigating Jake’s space. You eventually made it there, only to find the culprit with his back turned on you, holding a pan and flipping the food around.

He had only his back turned but his sculpted shoulder blades was enough to make your knees buckle again. Jake hears the footsteps nearing his way, turning around to greet you with that same warm smile. So indifferent.

“You’re awake just in time.” He greets, putting the last piece of bacon down on the plate. He had pancakes, scrambled eggs, fruits, bacon, and a cup of hot coffee all prepared.

It kind of felt like he’s your boyfriend for a split second.

“I didn’t know where to drop you off last night, so I hope you don’t mind that you’re here.”

You shook your head, feeling ashamed with the situation at hand. For sure, your hair was disheveled, your makeup was all over the place, and your breath smelled like absolute ass. “I’m sorry for um… Causing so much trouble last night, that’s kind of rude of me.”

Jake shook his head, rubbing the nape of his neck. “No, I should be the one apologizing after all… That.”

Upon his last word, the two of you fell silent and numb. “I think we should talk about that.”

Jake immediately agrees, placing the pan on the sink. “We really should.”

You make your way over to the table after he insisted, getting you a plate of your own. The two of you ate in silence for a little while, the words hanging upon your tongue but never fully letting loose.

That was until Jake speaks up, breaking the ice. “What do you want to happen with this?”

You halt the piece of pancake you were just about to bite, “With what?”

Jake shrugs, putting his utensils down. “With this whole thing that happened between us. You remember it too, right?”

You did. The whole entire night. As clear as day.

“Just… Parts of it, I guess.”

Jake nods, though you can tell from the look on his eyes that he wasn’t having it. “Y/N, to be frank with you— I’m not looking for anything serious. I’ve told you that before, right? I don’t do girlfriends, just—”

“One night stands. You’ve mentioned, yeah.”

It wasn’t such a hard pill to swallow, really.

“Right. Just wish this didn’t get your hopes up on anything or what.”

You raise a brow, feeling rather pissed off at what he’d just said. You? Hanging on his thread? He was absolutely correct. But to hear it straight up from him was brutal and quite frankly, bruised your ego. “Trust me, I don’t get my hopes up over things like these–” you take a bite out of the bacon, “takes too much time and trouble.”

Jake grins, unaware of your bitterness towards the matter. Instead, he felt glad you supposedly feel the same way. “Glad we’re on the same wavelength. So, what’s your choice gonna be?”

“My choice?” Jake nods, “We can pretend this never happened or we can… Continue if you’d like.”

The way the word continue rolls off his tongue

felt odd. “Continue?” You clarify, “as in- you’d want to continue this fuck and run thing?”

It wouldn’t necessarily be forced in your end, but damn.

Jake shrugs. “Admit it, you and I both get a good fuck. It’s a win-win situation.”

Sim Jaeyun was more heartless than you’d thought of him to be. Then again, you half expected this to happen. “And? If we continue this… Whatever this is— where in the hell do we even draw the line?”

You bet you’ll catch feelings first.

“Catching feelings is where we draw the line. You know? Typical friends with benefits type of scenario.”

Typical friends with benefits type of scenario.

Something tells you Jake has pulled this exact script plenty of times before, like the lines he’d said over at the tattoo shop. Not necessarily programmed— but it was expected of him to say… That.

You ponder over his words.

And Jake merely eyes you.

You could refuse right now and tell him that— no, you absolutely cannot risk where he begins to draw the line because for you, crossing it was fatal trouble. You’re never one to catch feelings very quickly, but sooner or later, when this goes on, you know very will you will.

Jake is the epitome of everything your ex wasn’t.

The complete opposite.

Just your type.

So how in the world were you going to assure yourself you weren’t going to fall for him?

It was half and half, really.

But the moment you came back for your second tattoo, you knew full well what you were getting yourself into.

It was fucking dangerous.

And it was a risk you were more than willing to take.

“I mean, why not? Harmless hookups here and there wouldn’t be so bad.” it was more so of you trying to convince yourself rather than Jake. But the latter agreed to your sentiment, saying, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Y/N.” the tiniest, but snarkiest grin appearing onto his features. “We’re playing with fire, and its dangerous.”

“So do I. But here I am anyway.”

~~~~~~

Following the rather… Eventful incident over at Jake’s place, he drops you off over to your place as an apology to what happened the previous nights. Checking your phone hours later, you find that Heeseung’s been riddling you with calls and endless drunk texts as to wherever the hell you’ve gone off to.

11:30 PM.

Seungie: where tf r u???

Seungie: …. im serious beuh UGH i canr do dis rn im dancinf w some randok gurl and she smeels like shit 💩

Seungie: kind of smellsnlike u lol

Seungie: lolololol

1 AM

Seungie: hope u fgot laid or smthn lol i gor scolwdwd by sunghoon dor reeking like alcogool hahaha 🤣🤣

Seungie: i feel SOOOO ELEVATED RIGHT NOWWWW!! WOOOOOO!

1:30 AM

Seungie: beatch how tf r u like u got laid THAT good to be ignoring my calls n shi???

Seungie: bruh

9:47 AM

Seungie: hey i just woke up, i got so wasted last night. lol ignore the weird ass messages

Seungie: Y/N are you okay? please reply omfg i’m sorry i wasn’t able to guard you properly last night

Seungie: not that it was my responsibility or what but

10:30 AM

Seungie: now i’m seriously getting worried, where the hell are you?

Seungie: please reply back, your location says you’re not at your home right now???

11:00 AM

You: Omg Hee, Cafe. In ten minutes. Get dressed. I have so much to fucking spill.

11:05 AM

Seungie: WHAT THE FUCK

Seungie: FINALLY I THOUGHT YOU GOT LIKE KIDNAPPED OR SOMETHING

Seungie: ALSO WHAT YOU CANT BE MAKING PLANS SO FAST

You: Just did.

Seungie: What are we wearing?

You: im in my pajamas bruh

Twenty minutes after your said conversation with a very worried Heeseung, you swiftly made your way over to the cafe you saw randomly on the way to work. It looked nice and aesthetically pleasing, a small run down coffee shop owned by a few college students.

Heeseung arrived shortly after, quite literally embracing you until you can’t breathe anymore. That’s how much he was worried and scared.

“I thought you got like kidnapped or something.”

He mumbles, apologizing for the way he swore to take responsibility of you, only to get lost in the crowd minutes after. “After promising me you’d like— guard me or something like that.” You roll your eyes, sitting down across from Heeseung. Your drinks arrived, and he looked somewhat guilty, eyes avoiding yours. “Got too lost with the ladies.”

“With the ladies my ass.”

“Enough of that, what the heck are you going to tell me anyways? Come on, give me some credit for being worried sick.”

Another roll of eyes came his way. You had to hand it to him, though. Thirty missed calls and like- a spam of messages throughout the night. Despite being wasted and all that, he really was worried.

“So… Remember Jake?”

“The hot tattoo artist you fawned over? Yeah. What about him?”

“I fucked him.”

“Your left middle finger or right?”

“No— as in— I fucked him.”

“Yeah, and I’m asking whether—“ and then, Heeseung stops. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” He was an edge away from spilling his coffee all over the place, standing abruptly. “You did— WHAT now?”

Stoic and composed, you sipped on your drink. “He was at the bar last night, we danced, we made out in the bathroom, and we… Did the thing in his car.”

“You are not serious right now.” Heeseung slowly sinks back to his seat, “You are absolutely not serious right now.” he was in total disbelief. You did not aid to his surprise though, shrugging your shoulders and leaning back against the wooden chair. “I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t. I literally feel like my heart is like pumping way more blood than it’s supposed to be.”

“There’s a term for that, medical student.”

“Sinus Tachycardia.”

“Thank you smarty pants— do you-” Heeseung shifts in his seat, “do you like regret what you’ve done? Also, are you on the pill and is he clean?”

His questions came gunshotting in.

“No. Yes, and yes.”

“Do you like him? Or do you just want to have fun with him? He’s attractive but he looks like he’s a playboy.”

You confirm Heeseung’s statement, saying, “he’s more than that. I bet he’s had like a hundred girls up in his alley before.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“It’s not that I don’t mind, it’s just that—”

Heeseung beats you to it, “It’s just that you want to play this game with him, am I right? He’s probably offering you the spot of like, I don’t know— fuck buddies or something.”

“You know what? That’s exactly what he said.” You point to him, gaping your mouth as if he’d just solve the biggest mystery in the world. Heeseung shrugs, “see? You absolutely wouldn’t mind getting fooled by this man. I cannot blame you though.”

“Right?” he sips on his drink dramatically, setting it down. Then, he crossed his legs over the other and meticulously intertwined his fingers like some sort of diva. A freaking dork stuck inside a hot body.

“You are getting yourself in a very sticky situation, missy.”

“Okay, you sound like my dad right now.”

“But you know full well I’m right.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

He pinched the bridge of his noise, still in that same poised manner, “it’s not the first time you’ve pulled this shit, so I guess go for it.”

“Wow, real supportive.” the two of you simultaneously roll your eyes at the back of your head, chuckling at the sudden coincidence as Heeseung spoke, “just be careful.”

“Can’t promise you that.”

“Of course you can’t.”

~~~~~~

The days following your unfortunate incident with Jake— you discerned one very unsettling thing.

You were well aware you go to the same university as him, as he mentioned previously. It always gnawed at the back of your head, but obviously, the department of his course differed and his line of field was over at the other building, not here. Never here.

So chances of bumping into him were low. Or so you thought.

But oddly enough, you’ve been seeing him more than usual. As in— he’s just always somehow appearing out of nowhere. Often with perhaps a friend named Sunghoon who you shared a class with at Anatomy and Physiology. Note that he shared a common mutual with Heeseung, much to your surprise.

A small world, you were beginning to think he was doing it on purpose, waiting for Sunghoon to finish his classes (you were on the same few class), and deliberately hanging by, leaning against that same wall with his arms crossed as if he hadn’t just done the most sinful thing days prior.

Like right now. Moments after you’ve left the lecture hall, you were half expecting this to happen. Sim Jaeyun, leaning against a pillar a few distances away from the room, headphones on his ear as he sucked on a lollipop. The sweet treat caught your attention, eyes observing the way his to gue swirled around the candy.

Wow, that’s so… Hot.

You knew Jake had a distinct sense of fashion, matching yours in a way that made it look like you dressed together. But god, seeing him with no contact made warm things appear down the pits of your stomach. It wasn’t helping you weren’t reaching out to him at all these past few days.

The man names Sunghoon eventually appeared from the door, nearing Jake and greeting him. He returned the favor, momentarily locking eyes with you— intentionally.

He grins.

You grin back.

His left hand holds the stick of the treat, swirling his tongue around the strawberry flavor.

And that absolutely does it for you.

~~~~~~

You’ve pictured yourself in this scenario plenty of times before.

It seemed it was going to become an occasional thing now.

You, wrapped in the silky sheets of Jake’s blankets, your body bare and exposed to his touch alone. He wasn’t touching you now, though, the scent of cherry flavored air unveiling from his mouth. You hardly knew he vaped, but now here you were, leaning against his bed’s frame, watching the way he neared the lip of the vape to his mouth, then releasing that breath of air so nonchalantly and unfazed.

Jake merely stared at the ceiling as you stared at him.

His chest flexed upon your cold fingers touching it, sculpting and tracing part of his well defined abs. He chuckles, “What? Another round so suddenly?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m just touching you, is that so wrong?” Jake shook his head, tilting his head over to your direction and releasing the cherry flavored air straight to your face. Normally, you’d consider it as rude, but when Jake does it, something about the deed felt so hot and attractive. “You’re not helping when you touch me like that.”

And once more, something builds up down the pits of your stomach.

Jake feels this. He knows. And he acts upon it, lifting his leg, raking it across as he hovered above you with ease.

He neared his head, lips ghosting over your plump lips.

“Let’s try something new, yeah?”

~~~~~~
It goes on for a month.

The routine goes as follows: You make some sort of eye contact with Jake at the hallway, when classes end, he either goes to your place or you go to his. An endless cycle of quite literally fucking and playing around.

A terrible habit you’ve garnered from Jake was the act of vaping. When he comes over, a guilty pleasure of yours was to puff from his pod, enjoying it as much as he did, especially when the flavors differed.

Sometimes it was cola, sometimes mint, sometimes even coffee flavored.

His vape was as addicting as him.

And it wasn’t long before Heeseung began to notice the particular change in habit. It’s not that you’ve fallen off of your arrangement of studying, going to work, and generally— being the goody-two-shoes you’ve always been. Something’s definitely shifted, though.

Seungie: lemme guess, ur sleeping w jake again

You: how’d u know. lol

Seungie: i can SMELL his disgusting ass vape from here, dont lie, ik you’ve been doing the same

You: am not.

Seungie: i literally smell you at work, no point in denying

You: …

You: okay fine. dont scold me.

Seungie: wasnt planning to, ur an adult i think u know what ure doing w ur life bae

Seungie: but just incase u need like advice, maybe pull out from your situation while its still early.

Seungie: your eyebags are so visible now, i feel like youre STRESSED with this man

You: kind of. he’s been keeping me up until god knows what time

Seungie: your quiz results?

You: still passing them.

Seungie: submissions?

You: still on time.

Seungie: okay. thats good, text me when u need something, ‘kay? i’m coming over to kaiza

You: okay so the two of you are at THAT stage now

Seungie: ;))

You: creepy.

The message ends there, you giggled like fool as Heeseung reacts to your message with a smirk. It seemed like you were not the only one moving things on your end.

However, unbeknownst to you, a frowning Jake hovered besde you, clutching his vape with much more force than intended. His hand grasped your phone swiftly, turning it off and placing it down your bedside table.

“Hey! What was that for!” You frown, attempting to reach for your phone only for Jake to have you pinned down with his strong and muscular arms. “I wasn’t informed your time spent with me would be shared by someone else.”

The latter part of his statement felt forced, strained even. You don’t fail to notice the way he grinds his teeth ever so slightly. “I was just texting Heeseung!” you counter, feeling the slightest hint of idea coming into play.

Jake rolled his eyes, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. His head stood a good distance away from you, but you could feel his willingness and urge to absolutely pound and devour you this very moment. Again. “And you’re with me right now.”

You couldn’t sense if he was just greedy or if he felt a bit of jealousy for the man. “I don’t think it’s right to be putting your attention on him—” Jake breathed in the scent of your nape, “rather than me?”

And the rest was practically history.

~~~~~~

It goes on for two months.

Jake’s made it clear anything personal will never get into matters like this.

And he’s done a pretty good job at keeping his word. The everlasting silence, glances, and hint everytime you passed each other down the hallway was enough of an indication that he wants this as much as you do. But never enough. You feel as though you’d want him so bad things may overflow, but for him— it felt like it was just alright. Never truly enough on his end.

Today marks the second month mark of your hookup with the man. He’d left your apartment just minutes prior with no word beforehand, during, or even after.

He really was just there to fuck the living shits out of you.

And it hurt too.

You thought as you stared at yourself through your bathroom’s mirror, fingers lightly grazing the hickeys he left splattered all around the neck, now turning purple. You’d have to wear a turtleneck to school tomorrow, but for now, you had bigger things to worry about. The marks were the least of your concern.

You don’t know what to make of it, don’t know what to assert of Jake’s actions towards you. He was crude when it came to sex, but the gentle touches were there. The aftercare was there. The love in his eyes at times felt like it was there. Everything a boyfriend should be doing, but he was not such.

And it hurt.

~~~~~~

The mark stretched on for three more months.

Eventually, the warm breeze had long dissipated and you were greeted with the winter snow. You had to start wrapping yourself up in multiple layers now as you went to work. As for your course, you had a few more months before you finished your pre-medical program. If granted the opportunity, your next stop would be to actually pursue the real deal.

Now?

The months felt like they were bearing more days by the second, too slow to halt at Christmas, the long awaited break simply being too slow.

An old record player sits idly atop the counter of the registrar.

The sound of ‘Come and Get Your Love’ by Redbone plays along, one of Heeseung’s personal picks for today’s tedious shift. He sways his body along the rhythm of the music to keep himself at bay from the intense heat the summer was bringing along.

He’s in a pretty good mood today, sipping a green apple flavored slushie despite the weather already being so cold.

“What got you so jumpy today?” You ask with a snort, shoving a box inside one if the counters. “Baby ‘cause you’re mine and you’re fine~” he does one of his obnoxiously good footworks, moonwalking owards you. Once face to face, he pulls something out from his pocket, showing you a picture of Kaiza.

“And you— look so divine!”

You roll your eyes, “Come and get your love!” swaying along with his antics despite not truly syncing with the beat. “Let me guess!” you say in between the music, “you asked her to be your girlfriend? And she said yes?”

“Correct! That’s why you gotta let me celebrate this.”

Another snort came down Heeseung’s way. He was always oddly energetic when something good happens, but you didn’t expect they’d move forward much better than expected. Way better than your stupid excuse of a relationship.

He sings along until the music is down, and eventually, he spoke, “I heard the engineering department is holding one of their annual music festivals again next Saturday.”

It was a particular Monday, the beginning of the weak already making you feel so weak.

“You down to go?”

“Yep. They got the best organized any department could have.”

Usually, each departments creates a festival or some sort of event all together as a final bang for the last semester. The engineering department upholds one of the best ones, if not the best— inviting big time artists and creating booths that are actually affordable and fun to buy from.

You attend the festival every year.

“You sure? For sure your ex is gonna be there.” Heeseung grabs classic vinyl record, placing it inside the player. Killing Me Softly.

Your ex, Doyun. The stupid fucker who cheated on you, happened to be one of the students in the very same department. He’s in a band, one of the overglorified ones at his department. A vocalist and a guitarist that’s simply too cocky for his own good.

You shrug, playing it off. “Not a big deal.” Hell, you might even see your sorry excuse of a best friend over at the festival. But it wasn’t anything to you now. If anything, it gave you all the more of a reason to not trust people.

Strumming my pain with his fingers,

Singing my life with his words.

“Heeseung, are you intentionally doing this right now?”

Heeseung grinned, “hey, the lyrics just happened to match up!”

You seriously want to skin this man alive.

“Ugh. Just organize the damn piles, please, before I hit you in the face.”

Killing me softly with his song.

Killing me softly… With his song.

~~~~~~

One of the things you realized during your whole agreement with Jake: you’ve never gotten his phone number.

You don’t know how in the world the two of you managed to keep a few months of hookup without communication, but it must be some sort of talent because you were only realizing it now.

Jake’s presence stopped showing up after your class to pick Sunghoon up for the rest of the week.

Last week, it was three days of the week; his usual.

Now, there was barely anything.

It was probably how you noticed the sudden absence of communication the two of you actually had in the real world. Simply being too engrossed in the bedroom to even think about texting. But somehow, it seemed to work so smoothly. The subtle glances, the cues— all of them were more than enough to act upon.

You watch as a mindless Sunghoon pops out of the class, walking along the hallway with no one by his side.

It was Friday now.

It seemed you weren’t going to get a glimpse of Jake anytime soon.

~~~~~~

The weekend was overbearing, spent on the couch munching away junk foods and watching your favorite seriouss— seriously hoping Jake would magically appear. Even if it meant him asking for sexual intercouse straight away.

Yet nothing came.

Monday came hitting again like a truck, and after a stressful class at one if your most disliked subjects— Physics, something td you it was a sign. A positive sign.

So when the bell rang and Sunghoon came out, you half-expected something. Anything to prove your jittering heart and brain.

But when you see nothing, all you do is heave out a sigh.

“Are you waiting for Jake?” Sunghoon spoke much to your surprise, strapping his bag to his back. Stunned, you turn around and said, “What?”

“I said are you waiting for Jake?”

You think about it for a second, whether or not this man is someone you could trust. Though eventually, “Ah— yeah. You know where he is?” you cave in. Sunghoon shrugs, “you’re the girl screaming his name out in his bedroom at twelve midnight am I right?”

God. You’ve never ran towards someone so fast, almost stumbling him back as you covered his mouth with your hand. What a ridiculously honest man! “You don’t say things like that in public!”

Sunghoon raised a brow, prying your hand off his mouth. “And I’ve told Jake plenty of times to keep the weird noises down especially during my quizzes and exams, but here we are.”

“What?”

Jake never told you that.

“You guys are roommates?”

Sunghoon nods his head, “Obviously? Besides, it’s already pretty obvious. You guys are fucking noisy as hell.” You can feel the frustration in Sunghoon’s voice, and you couldn’t really blame him, in all honesty. But had you known Sunghoon was there during your… Funny businesses, you would’ve kept things down.

Sheepishly, you scratch the nape of your neck and avoid his gaze. “Sorry, I— didn’t really know…”

Sunghon shrugs, “It’s a disturbance but whatever. I’ll ask again— are you looking for Jake?”

You nod.

You’ve never deemed Sunghoon to be so straight to the point and strict given that he always sat himself at the back of the class and hardly spoke. But it felt like you were being scolded by your father.

“If it answers your questions, I haven’t been seeing him much at the dorm as of late. He’s been going home much later than usual, not sure about his classes though I’m sure he still attends.”

You try and take in all of what he’s saying— in the fucking name of Jake!

“He might be preoccupied with things at his tattoo job or something, or like doing something odd like he usually does.”

Something odd?

“What odd thing exactly if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sunghoon shrugs, “hooking up with random girls, things like that.”

Oh.

Oh.

The man seemed to sense your sudden change of mood, as he shifts around uncomfortably, piecing together what to say. “Just ask him yourself, it’d be better that way.”

There was silence.

Until Sunghoon exasperatedly sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “don’t tell me you don’t have his contact?”

Another silence.

“Ugh. I cannot believe this,” he pulls out his phone, opening his contacts and handing you the number written on his screen. You swiftly took your phone out albeit haphzardly, typing in the letters so fast your fingers began to shake a bit. Once done, Sunghoon puts the phone back in his pocket.

Though it kind of pained you to be gaining access of Jake’s phone number not from the man himself, but from his friend- you chose to disregard the pride for now.

“I’m done, that’s all the help I can do.” Sunghoon turns around, waving one of his hand up, “Oh and if you patch that up— please keep the moans down otherwise I’ll kick both your asses out.”

God fucking dammit.

~~~~~~

The number, if anything— it scares you to death.

You’ve been staring at it for god knows how many hours now, memorizing it at some point as you fumbled to send out a message.

What would Jake even think of you sending out a, ‘hey Jake, this is Y/N. I was hoping to know when we can hookup soon?’

Frankly speaking, on your end, it would sound possesive, obsessed even, given the fact that his number came from not Jake himself but from his friend.

Your fingers were inches away from touching the send button.

Until, eventually, it stopped.

Yeah. It wouldn’t make sense. You weren’t his girlfriend or anything.

~~~~~~

You were beginning to think nothing ever happened between the two of you.

The second week of December, the third month of your hookup is the mark, the remembrance that this, this is exactly where everything started.

Yet as abrupt as everything came to be, things ended way too soon the very same way.

That particular Wednesday, you visited the tattoo shop in hopes of getting a, ‘tattoo’ from none other than Jake.

Kaiza said he wasn’t there and refused to entertain anymore questions.

Came Friday and Heeseung was practically drilling holes into your back.

“Dude, you’ve been mopping around since the moment you entered, what’s up with you?”

No response.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N!” He snapped a finger in front of your face, bringing you back to harsh reality. You blinked, “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” reasoning it out. Heeseung wasn’t having any of it, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“I just know this is about Jake. What did he do this time?” You sigh, knowing there was no point in arguing. “This is stupid. Fucking stupid.”

“What is?”

The odd urge to spill everything came down, and before you knew it, you were telling Heeseung the whole story. How you expected for him to at least reach out, how he disappeared without so much of a trace, how you had to go to Sunghoon to ask about him, how you went to the tattoo shop.

Heeseung listened earnestly, and when you were done, it felt like he was some sort of philosopher, thinking way too passionately for an answer.

“Ending it while it was early would have been the best option.” He starts off saying, “but given your… Maybe desire for him I’d say it’s understandable.”

You nod. “But if Jake’s acting like that… Well, it’s best to let it go. You can’t be the one chasing him after swearing to yourself you’ll play his game. That looks desperate, right? And that is so not you.”

It really isn’t.

“You have to show him you’re capable of living without that— whole fuck buddies thing, because you do have a life outside of him.”

If there was anything unbearable about Heeseung, it was his capabilities to become so freaking annoying. But if there was anything that you loved about him, it’s the fact that he cares. He knows, and he actually understands whatever the hell’s going through your brain.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he asked, you gave him the signal. “Why is that when Doyun you know— did that shitty ass thing, it affected you but from what I saw, it never really phased you as an individual?”

He was talking about the fact that following your breakup with the said man, all it took for you was a single tissue box and a few hours to get over him. As well as a much needed bar session and a couple of drinks. Now? You weren’t even hell-bent on taking a trip down the bar to have fun anymore.

“I think you know what I mean with what I’m saying, right?”

You nod, thinking of some sort of response.

The word traced itself down the tip of your tongue, the scary one, the absolutely forbidden word that you aren’t supposed to mention.

It’s been kept there for so long, refusing to be acknowledged by you. Yet at the same time, it was way too obvious, way too transparent to see that—

“It’s because I actually like him. I like Sim Jaeyun.”

~~~~~~

Saturday felt like a huge burst of energy pulsing through.

You plowed through your morning shift at the record shop that morning with Heeseung, and that evening, the two of you made your way over to the department’s festival. You assured Heeseung to enjoy his time with Kaiza, given that it was thsir first experience together and that you didn’t want to be a cockblock.

But god, you wish you hadn’t insisted that now.

Mixed between different bodies of sweat and people, despite it being less worse than a club, god you felt overstimulated with everything. A particular band was playing something at the stage, while people jammed along and jumped to their hearts’ content.

It was a vibrant event, if anything. You do remember this event being way more fun when you used to have a boyfriend to share the moment with.

Eventually, a new band enters the stage as the previous one finished, with only the endless muttering and cheering of the people coming into play.

And you recognized the band all too well.

“What an evening everyone! We are— daybreakers!”

You recognized that voice way too soon, too.

The crowd cheered, it was clear they were the fan favorite. It was for a moment only, but you saw the way the vocalist— god forbid you mention the name— had glanced over your direction, fingers strumming his electric guitar.

He knew you were there.

“Today, we’ll be playing a couple of songs for you all!” he says, hyping the crowd up. The crowd takes his bait, his band strumming along the tune of what sounded like— She Will Be Loved.

“I’ve had you so many times but somehow I want more—”

Your ass.

”And she will be loved.”

Loved or cheated on?

The song finishes, the head of your stupid ex lulling back and strumming the last notes of the song. You can’t help but roll your eyes. At least he still had the passion and the talent for this.

“This next song, I’m dedication to the person I’ve loved the most but was stupid enough to lose.”

The audience shouts a handful of, ‘awws.’

"Someone I truly love and want back— if you’re out there in the crowd—” he sighs.

“Y/N, this song is for you and I want you back.”

A complete shift of genre— the song ‘I Want You Back’ by 1969 plays. Your mouth was agape like a fish, processing the situation at hand.

You could tell from your peripheral vision that people who knew you or at least were from your peripheral point of view turned their heads around to look for you. You know Doyun saw you around, why bother to even mention your name if he hadn’t? And you’d safely assume him and your best friend didn’t quite work out given the fact that she wasn’t anywhere near the stage.

Served them right.

But goddamn you hated this fucking spotlight, the endless cheering as this man sang.

“When I had you to myself, I didn’t want you around, those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd.”

When Doyun looks over your direction, so does the crowd. Eventually, some were able to put a face to the name, with some even swaying around and calling it romantic.

Romantic your ass.

“Oh baby give me one more chance,” Doyun jumps down from the small stage, walking towards the center of the crowd. Like acting on command, the audience makes way for the man, “Won’t you please let me back in your heart?”

He stood before you now. Doyun, the same man you’ve come to love and cherish for years, serenading you with this song. It wasn’t romantic on your end, just purely laughable and pathetic even.

All the while, you pondered if Jake ever attended these events and if he was seeing this right now. God, you hope he wasn’t. You really, really, really do.

“Oh darlin’ I was blind to let you go, but now since I see you in his arms—” Doyun hands out a singlr rose, “Will you let me in again?”

Everyone chimed like it was their last performance on earth, like it was the very first serenade they’ve heard. If only they knew the boiling rage you had for this man, if only they knew how much he really acted off stage.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes locking onto his persistent ones.

Then, you took his microphone without permission, shouting—

“Fuck no.”

~~~~~~

Sunday was a lost of control for everything.

You went home that evening, the entire performance of a single man dampening your mood more than you’d like to admit. Heeseung bombarded you with messages, but you responded with a mere, ‘let’s talk about it next time, I’m exhausted’

And he seemed to take the hint, laying off for the rest of the night.

Sunday morning you find yourself up in your living room, contemplating whether or not you should text Jake and ask him how he’s doing or worst case— if he wants to hook up again.

But you don’t.

Sunday afternoon, by some odd circumstance, your feet dragged you along the heavy pavement and you find yourself back to square one— Tatts.

It was gettung unbearable by now. The lost of him without so much as a word or a simple hint to his disappearance or whereabouts. Jake just vanished, or at least, from your sight.

You enter the shop, the dark room hitting you as a welcome. It was a different person at the counter now, and much to your surprise, he gladly let you took Jake as the tattoo artist.

Jake.

Just thinking about his name and seeing him again made your head hurt but your heart excited at the same time. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

The man opened the curtains, only to see Jake like the second time you saw him— playing games on his phone with not so much as a care in the world. He didn’t see you yet, too preocuppied with his business as he spoke, “it’s a Sunday, why’s there a client–” then he looked up from his phone screen, only to halt his words and stare in utter shock.

You stared at him, not uttering a single word.

He stares back.

From anyone’s point of view, they’d assume he looked stoic and unfazed. But you know. You just know he was surprised to see you, just as much as you were.

“Ah. I see. Thanks.” Jake nods toward the man who left you with your business, and you hesitantly went inside his booth with clammy hands. With not so much as a word, Jake stood up and started doing his usual routine of preparing the things he needed. He was silent all the while, and you attempted to collect your thoughts until eventually, you spoke, “are you avoiding me?”

There was a pause, then he says, “avoiding you? Why would I do that?”

But his back was turned to you, and the way he spoke was monotone, devoid of emotion. “You haven’t been… Reaching out these past two weeks.”

“Is that something to be concerned about? Aren’t we just doing this for the fun of it?”

His words hit you like a truck coming in at full speed.

“Besides, what makes you think we’d be on that stage after a few good fuck sessions?” Jake turns to you. Through mixed emotions and albeit it being difficult, you tried and gauged his emotions and expressions.

“Not sure if you’re well aware but you really should be. We’re nothing more than mere hookup sessions.”

You feel a huge sting prick you through your chest, “then why aren’t you asking for a hookup these past few weeks?”

God, you felt and looked so desperate but it didn’t matter now.

Jake seethed, straightfroward, concise, and unattached— “because I simply don’t want to.”

He sat down at the small chair, you weren’t one to give it up easily. Given the fact that his head was down and he was absolutely avoiding making eye contact with you— the smallest hope for emotion or at least something more sparked within you.

“But I want to. What are we supposed to do when it’s me who wants it?”

Jake stays silent for a moment so you continue, “why is it that when you’re that one that wants it we should play along but when it’s me, it should be pushed aside?”

You turned to Jake, fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt. “Why is it that when I ask for something you refuse?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“It’s not fair Jake! Then you should’ve told me in the first place this whole thing was one-sided. I would have never agreed then!”

The desperation in your tone was evident, pieces of emotion crumbling down like a tall wall. You wanted him to talk to you, tell you what’s wrong, tell you that this whole entire thing which was completely his idea is worth fighting for.

Because frankly speaking, you don’t want to fight for it anymore.

Jake merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he says, “what tattoo and where?”

God fucking dammit.

“Are you even listening to me Jake?!”

He doesn’t speak.

As frustration bubbles up in your throat, your fingers finally caved in as they touched Sim Jaeyun’s chin, tilting it up ever so slightly to finally see the expression hidden beneath his covered face.

Sim Jaeyun’s eyes— they were tainted with desperation and pain. His orbs glossed, indicating that he probably wants to cry or at least he tried not to.

You’ve never seen him like this before.

“Are you— are you okay?” you muster, but Jake was quick to remove your hands from him as he ruffled his golden hair in attempt to calm himself down. “I’m fucking fine.” he seethes.

“Jake, no you aren’t. You aren’t fine. Tell me what’s wrong—” he cuts you off harshly, “I told you, I’m fine. Stop it.”

“Please. Please just tell me."

“I can’t.” Jake choked through.

”But why?”

“I can’t tell you anything. We’re nothing, remember? Fucking nothing.”

And then, unbeknownst to you, the words spilled— “We don’t have to be. Why do we keep pretending like we’re nothing? I just like you Jake— I really like you.” you push a little louder, a little more desperate, “can’t we act up on those emotions?”

Every pent up emotion came crashing through, and oddly enough, you find yourself crying despite swearing you would never do so again in front of a man. But those two weeks felt like they were the longest weeks of your life, trapped between endless classes and just wanting to see Jake somehow.

Jake understands why you’re crying. Panicked, he took a tissue and handed it to you. You weren’t taking it, letting the tears free fall as you stared at him with determined eyes. Jake however, took matters into his own hands and started wiping the tears off your face, cooing and telling you to stop crying.

“Don’t cry like that.” He whispers, but his tone was contradicting. “Like what?”

“Like that. I can’t bear it. I fucking can’t– shit.”

“Bear what, Jake? Your dislike towards me? Your hatred? Please just tell me now cause—”

Without any word, Jake quickly shuts you up by kissing you. His head was way too fast, pressing his plump lips against yours in a passionate and desperate kiss. Your eyes were wide, but you kept your composure, closing your eyes and feeling the sensation at hand.

It was just a kiss, and as Jake pulled back with a breathless sigh, he kept his eyes glued to yours, and his fingers intertwined with the strands of your hair.

“I can’t bear this. God, I can’t bear you.”

“Why?”

“It’s because I fucking like you too, goddamit. I was scared to acknowledge that, I was scared I’d get attached too much and—”

You pressed your lips against his again, shutting him off this time.

Then, you pulled back, a huge grin on your features.

“We can try. We can try this time.”

~~~~~~

“Butter… Butter, where’s the damn butter.”

7:30 AM Monday morning, the sun’s rays spark through the curtains as you cooked breakfast for two with nothing but Jake’s t-shirt on you which was twice his size.

The morning after the huge bursts of emotion, once the two of you finally calmed down, one thing led to another and eventually, you find yourself in your apartment, preparing breakfast for you and him.

You swiftly cooked up just a simple meal for the two of you, eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Perhaps you’d see to it to tease him later of what this meal reminded him off.

The thought of it made you grin.

Everything felt like it was falling back to place with Jake finally in your arms, and no more denying of what you actually feel for him, and what he feels for you.

As you flip through another pancake, a pair of arms came wrapping around the small of your waist, enclosing you in a tight hug. Something heavy sits atop your shoulder, followed by small kisses leading up to the nape of your neck.

“Mmh. Good morning baby…” Jake greets with a raspy voice, still peppering kisses. You smile, taking the pancake off the pan and putting it on the plate. “Good morning.” you greet him.

Jake stays silent for a little while, keeping his eyes glued to your cooking and never once letting go of his arms on your waist. This feels… Homey, somehow. Like the two of you are a married couple experiencing an average day together.

“That’s what we ate when I asked you to be fuck budddies.” you laugh, nodding along. Guess it wasn’t too much of a tease for him, then. “Yes, I’m making it again as a remembrance.”

“Remembrance?” Jake whispers, and without warning, he easily slips his fingers beneath your– his t-shirt, his hands coming into contact with your bare stomach. He started rubbing circles, until eventually, he asked, “can I?”

With a nod, Jake pressed his large hands farther up your body, reaching the spot just below your boobs. He caressed that too, gauging your reaction. You bit your lip, trying to show that it wasn’t affecting you, but when Jake inches further and caressed your nipples this time, you couldn’t help but shift slightly.

“What— what’re you doing?” You ask, but Jake didn’t respond, twiddling your nipples with his fingertips all the more. Suddenly, you feel something prod your butt, something sharp and hard. “Jake are you hard?”

”Mmh. Sorry baby, can we solve this for a minute?”

He mutters beneath your breath, the growing hardnesd on his dick very evident, pressing against your barely covered area. “Aren’t you tired from last night?” you ask, though if anything, what you had last night was nothing compared to past hookups. Filled with love and passion— not being driven by lust and power is something you never knew you needed until now, and also something you never knew Jake was capable of giving.

“I’ve charged up plenty, what about you?”

You smile. “Mmh. I guess we can give one shot, I’ll just finish these up.” You say, but before you even had the chance to finish the last batch of food, Jake turns you around, turning off the power from the stove and pinning you slightly to the left where a counter resides. He traps you with both his arms, never separating his lips from your neck. “I’d rather have you as my breakfast, that okay?”

“It’s okay, but—” with not another word, Jake sucked on a particularly sensitive spot just below your neck. You couldn’t help but wince, fingers grazing his bicep as you attempted to keep yourself still. Jake parts from your neck, licking the bottom of his tongue and grinning at you innocently, “you’re so sweet, baby…”

His kisses travelled down from your neck to your collarbone, biting the the bone ever so slightly. It seemed he loves biting as much as he loves making out.

“Stop biting me…” you giggle, feeling all too ticklish with his touch. Jake smirked, biting that very same touch. “Like this baby?” you try and push him off, but Jake was far too strong, carrying you bridal style in a split second as he headed over to the couch.

Surprised, you hit him by the chest, “what’re you doing!”

Jake laughs, pecking the tip of your nose intimately. Then, he throws you gently at the couch, following suit and keeping his right leg at the edge of it, his left leg stabilizing him, and his arms locking you still. “Doing this.”

He dips his head down, intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss. He wasted no time letting his tongue roam your mouth— the hot, wet, smacking resonating around the room. Jake’s right hand find its way around the waistband of your shirt, lifting it up slightly to reveal your thin underwear. He quickly puts it aside, rubbing the clit gently.

You whimper beneath the kiss, parting from him slightly to huff and ruffle your fingers around his soft fluffy golden hair— so well taken of.

“Keep doing that, Jakey, mmh…”

Jake grins, rubbing the clit with much more pressure, “like this baby? Call me Jakey again one more time, yeah?”

So you do, whimpering his name like it was the most precious thing in the entire world. And perhaps it is.

Jake keeps his undivided attention on the way he pampers you, inserting his middle and ring finger in. You gape in surprise, disregarding the fact that your neighbors might hear the noise— but let them know for all you care.

“Don’t hold back, yeah?” Jake whispers, keeping his eyes glued to his fingers which scissored your throbbing cunt. God, you looked so fucking divine all splayed out for him like this. He keeps his pace relatively fast, your moans pouring out with each movement of his finger.

When you feel a particular coil boil down the pits of your stomach, Jake halts and licks his mouth clean. You whimper, complaining, “Why—"

But Jake quickly shuts you off with a kiss, pulling down his boxers as he did so and letting his already hard and erect cock spring free. He wastes no time, positioning his girthy length– the tip of it against your hole. “You ready?” he asks and once you nod, he slams it in full force.

The energy Jake had early in the morning is insane, pistoning his hips back and forth like it was the easiest thing to do in the entire world. He grips the edge of the sofa, keeping his movement stable in and out of your pussy. He hits a particularly sensitive spot, “Fuck— no, no, Jake!”

“W-what—” something squirts, hitting Jake’s abdomen. It was warm, liquidy, and as the rest of the juices coated his legs, your still throbbing cunt pulsed down and squeezed him. Jake couldn’t help but throw his head back, his hand reaching out to grasp and lock your hair within his fingertips. “Fuck, you didn’t tell me you could just do that.”

Jake kept his ballistic pace. “Yeah? Do that for me again, please? Hmm?”

He pulls his dick out in one languid movement, spinning you around so you kneeled at the couch, hands clutching the edge of the sofa tightly. Jake needs no further words, quickly inserting his cock inside your slippery cunt. He takes hold of your waist, leaning you back towards his chest.

Fuck. He’s good.

“Give me another one baby? Mmhhh— pretty please…” Jake was begging, but it didn’t feel desperate. Rather, it still felt like he was in full control, licking your neck and twisting his fingers down your clit all at the same time. He was eager, seeing you squirt all over him like a pretty little play toy.

Jake has never seen anything like it, god he’d kill the world just to see it again. You whimper, “I can’t— I—”

“You fucking can baby, come on, I’m close too.” He urged, hitting that same spot seconds prior, which caused you to moan and scream his name out as you orgasmed and gave him the squirt he’s been so longing for. The couch was dirtied, but Jake pays no particular mind, staring in awe at the way your pussy convulsed and the way you felt like putty around his hands.

“I’m close baby— I’m close…” Jake repeats like a broken record, the controlled movements becoming a bit more careless as he did so. Eventually, after a few more thrusts, Jake pulls out and let his cock squirt his juices down your back and to your ass.

He groans, palming the rest of the juices out while still keeping his other hand close and supported around your waist. You were exhausted, crashing down the dirtied sofa breathlessly.

Jake laughs, grabbing a piece of tissue to clean up the mess around your body.

“I’m sorry baby.” he apologizes, gently taking care of your body. You smile at him, holding his head and pecking his lips.

“You bastard.” you say as an offense.

But god, you loved him like this.

~~~~~~

Your first tattoo was a butterfly.

The second was the one Jake gave you. 
The third was taking you a little bit more time to decide.

As you lay on your comfortable bed with Jake wrapping his arms around you (grace the heavens for having the apartment all to yourself as you were too embarrassed to even face Sunghoon’s too honest mouth after that interaction), you realize that perhaps now is the time to mark another piece of ink on your body.

“Hmm. Would this look good?” You ask him, you were suddenly reminded of this moment months prior, when you were in your bed, deciding on a tattoo after a much needed breakup.

Now, you had someone by your side.

Jake laughed, pointing at your inspiration’s crevices, “the edges look odd, it’ll bleed after a few days. Trust me.”

You roll your eyes, somewhat being annoyed with the way Jake is always so specific with his tattoos. It made sense, though. You never saw him with much in his sleeve or anywhere in his body, contrary to stereotypes about tattoo artist.

“What should I get then?”

“I have this brilliant idea,” Jake pops the lollipop off his mouth, leaning slightly towards you, “let’s get a matchy one.”

You grin, the idea not so half bad. “Where should we get it?”

“Hmm. Wrist? Thigh? You decide, it’s my first tattoo.”

Or maybe he’s never had a tattoo at all.

“Really?”

Jake deadpans, “you’ve seen me naked hundreds of times, you of all people would know, baby.”

You laugh, “I kind of assumed you got one in like your ass or something, I barely see that.”

“I can flash you right now—” Jake attemps to stand up, perhaps flash you his ass in full glory but you quickly stop him, “stop! Stop! I don’t wanna see your ass! Let’s get a matching tattoo!”

Jake snorts, popping the sweet treat right back to his lips. He’d stop vaping now days after you started this. You wouldn’t call it dating, as he never really asked you out, but it wasn’t entirely nothing either. Perhaps between the line of being his girl, and his friend?

At least he isn’t ghosting you anymore.

“I’ll decide on what to get, baby. Give me a few days.”

“Bet.”

~~~~~~

handsometattooartist: I’ll pick you up in a bit, wear something nice.

You: Wow, is this the day you finally ask me out?

handsometattooartist: Just trust me, okay?

You: Are you going to kidnap me?

handsometattooartist: Maybe ;)

You: Whatever lol, what tattoo are we getting?

handsometattooartist: Trust me on that too.

You: It better not be a dick.

handsometattooartist: Awh. Too bad.

You: I swear to god. Fine. You better ask me out after this.

You grin at your phone, Jake doesn’t reply after. Days after your tattoo planning with him, it seemed Jake was a little bit more busier than normal due to his finals and activities piling up.

He doesn’t fail to update you, neither does he fail to treat you like his girlfriend.

So naturally, the need of becoming officially his was growing each second. As you stand in front of your vanity, contemplating which attire would be appropriate for perhaps a possible date, you realize, that you may actually be very well getting what you want by now.

With the thougt in mind, you grin and hurriedly made your way to prepare.

~~~~~~

You opted to dress in something a little bit casual.

A pair of denim jeans and red halter top, and kitten-heels sandals. An outfit that gives you both comfort and style at the same time. Something a little out if your all black comfort zone.

Eventually, the doorbell rang and you excitedly ran to open it. There, you saw Jake in his full glory, dressed in pinstripe pants and a maroon short sleeved open collar shirt which coordinated with your outfit coincidentally. His hair looked cleaner, styled in a side part. (the urge to gobble him up is insane)

Hell, if you weren’t going after this, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.

“You’re copying me.” you quip, but Jake rolls his eyes, “no, you are. Copycat.”

He laughs, extending an arm towards you. You took it, letting him lead you towards his car. “You look really pretty.”

Grinning, you extend your gratitude, careful enough to not let him see the massive smile forming on your face.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He opens the car door for you, the two of you eventually reaching the tattoo shop as it was only a couple of minutes away from your apartment. Kaiza was on her day off today, spending her time with Heeseung. Who greeted you at the counter was another employee.

She pays no mind to Jake as the two of you entered the booth and hs start setting things up.

“Give me your wrist.”

You follow his instructions.

“You decided on the wrist, after all?”

Jake nods, “do you trust me?” eyeing you with his gaze that screamed to be a mix of encouragement and perhaps anticipation all at the same time. You smile,

“Of course I do.”

~~~~~~

The pricking of the needles was nothing new to you, but it still stung a little everytime it happens.

Minutes pass and eventually, Jake finishes his own to compare with yours.

It was not as distinguishable— scratch that, it really isn’t noticeable at all that the implication of the tattoo is to match with. You half expected something rather cliché, like half a heart on your wrist, and another on his.

Instead, what you got on your left wrist was the smallest hint of Daiquiri, particularly the same drink, same bottle, and even same shape of ice you’d drunk back at the club before you got to dirty business with Jake.

And his?

The one he drank— his glass of Boulevardier. The exact detail of both drinks coming into play as the ink patches itself into your skin. You stare at it for a moment. Well, you don’t hate it. It’s good, you just thought it’d be more… Obvious.

“You don’t like it?” Jake asks blunty, to which you shook your head, saying, “no! I think it’s great, the detail you put into it is insane. It’s just that… You know, doesn’t feel like we’re matching, does that make sense?”

Jake stares at the tattoo, then back to you, then back to the tattoo, before he says, “I think it matches our story just fine, you know? It looks nice, don’t have to be too obvious about it.”

The detail he put into it is nice, but you couldn’t help but ponder whether or not he wants to hide this, or perhaps this was just a Jake thing. You couldn’t really tell.

Jake sensed the way you shifted around a tiny bit, staring at the ink embedded into your skin. He grins, lifting your chin up to give you a small peck on the lips.

“Don’t overthink it. I’ve got more planned.”

Jake keeps your attention away from the tattoo, holding your hand and leading you out and back to his car. The car ride is silent, usually the noise would be filled in by the music Jake plays. But this time, it was utterly quiet.

“You wanna play some music? Or…"

Jake nods, letting you pick the music from his phone. As you scroll through his music playlist, a sudden notification pops up on his phone. In a group chat named— party planner.

Heeseung: jake u better hurry tf up u, me and kaiza drank all the liquor u’ve got lol

Kaiza: is ur rizz not rizzing today? why u so slow

You tried ignoring it, picking a random song from the playlist and setting the phone down. Why did they have a random group chat together? Most especially, why were you not included?

He was unusually jittery, tapping his fingers against his legs or shaking it. “Are you okay?” you ask him, Jake looks at you and nods. “Yeah, ‘s fine.” but the smile on his face was anything to go by. You choose not to press, opting not to ruin the day by riddling it with useless overthinking.

Eventually, after an hour of so, you were met with the outskirts of the city, a beach that situated itself in the midst of the hustling and bustling of the urban streets. He leads you out of the car, the sunset hitting the rays of his parked car perfectly.

It was quiet, not a lot of people go to such placed especially when the city is everything they’ve dreamed of. But away from all that— leads you to somewhere more tranquil and relaxed. You hardly visited the beach, almost forgetting how the sun’s existence aligned perfectly with the sea and how the sand was more white unlike any other, and how the sea crashed with ease.

Jake typed something in his phone swiftly as he did so, then turning his attention back to you. It felt like he was some sort of secret agent, making sure you couldn’t take a glimpse of the conversation.

“You ready?” he asks, extending his hand out. You took it carefully, the two of you walked away from the sidewalk and into the white sand, some of its remnants getting stuck between your toe. The sunset aligned perfectly, the cold wind washed against your skin as a sort of greeting.

And much to your surprise, Jake leads you to a small gazebo situated at the beach, decorated with tons of colorful lights. Petals of flowers riddled around the exterior as well as the wooden floor beneath, heart balloons decorated all around, and a small table for two at the very middle of the gazebo.

The table was clothed white, and on top of it, laid tons of food, particularly the ones you liked and enjoyed and what you’ve shared to Jake the most. Two drinks as well— a glass of Daiquiri and Boulevardier.

You were in total awe, too busy staring at the set up Jake had prepared to even notice that Jake had already helped you sit down. He chuckled at your gaping mouth, “I wasn’t sure if you were a fan of… Beach dates.”

“Shit— you- you made all this?” you cover your mouth, still surprised. Jake shook his head, laughing. “I asked help from Kaiza and Heeseung, you must’ve seen the messages at the group chat earlier.”

Oh, so that’s what it was.

“I was restless the whole ride, Kaiza kept telling me Heeseung ate the whole entire food here as a joke. But it didn’t seem like a joke."

You laugh, “it would be something Heeseung would do, where are they now?”

“Probably frolicking around, who cares about them, yeah?” Jake quips, you laugh along with him. He really put a lot of effort into this. Jake hands you the glass of liquor, raising his own, “I figured since these were the two drinks we drank at the bar that time, we could toast to it.”

You raise your own drink, bumping it against his and swallowing it whole. The sweet, tangy, bitter taste hitting your throat, reminding you of that time at the bar. Jake then plates you some of the food he’d prepared, even the container and baskets had designs and cute little flowers riddled around it.

You took a bite out of the food, letting it accomodate your taste buds. “Wow— you even cooked this?”

Jake nods. He must’ve cooked all, it must’ve also taken a lot of time, effort, and money to be doing all this. You never deemed Sim Jaeyun to be much of a romantic, but now, here you were. Upon seeing your positive reaction, Jake smiled to himself and prepped his own food. “I know the tattoo may not be such a match as you’d hope for it to be, but for me, it’s kind of like a hidden code only the two of us would know.”

Only the two of you would know.

“And—” Jake holds your hand from across the table, kissing your knuckles gently. “I like it when our shared moments remain between us.”

You stay silent for a minute, basking in all of this and waiting for him to—

“We may not have started off in the best terms possible… And I was a complete jerk.”

“You are.”

“And you know how I work.”

“Sure as hell do.”

“But I’m not gonna let this go– I’m not letting you go so easily, Y/N.”

Jake stands up, inching closer to you.

He holds your shoulder close as you sat, his fingertips travelling to your supple cheeks. On instinct, your legs straightened to you leveled Jake’s gaze.

“Does this mean I get all the tattoos I want for free?”

Jake chuckles, pecking your forehead, your eyes, your nose— then finally, your lips.

“All the tattoo’s you’d want in the world."

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧