#of course he has blue eyes and blonde hair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kafkasmuses · 19 days

Text

KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons.

tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader)

a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs

thirty minutes ago.

art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you.

art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time.

“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.”

ahem.

you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression.

you blink at him, once, twice.

a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.”

it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him.

and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better.

you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“

“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.

he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint.

your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement.

maybe silence will earn points back from your coach.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

silence did not earn anything.

art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up.

the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it.

if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first.

he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?”

“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.”

art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing.

to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.”

you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back.

smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.”

he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?”

ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him.

and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

art said he forgave you, right?

ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.”

“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you.

“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind.

“whatever helps,” you remark.

“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.

once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.”

eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable.

“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?”

you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.”

“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.”

“with tennis?”

“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you.

“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds.

yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really.

“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet.

he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors.

“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before.

“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually.

“like your wife?”

“like you.”

art corrected you.

he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well.

the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe.

at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose.

“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty?

gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy.

“what?” you frown, confused.

“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing.

“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple.

“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?”

“what do you mean?”

art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“

“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours.

“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..”

“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.”

“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now.

“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?”

you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you.

when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying.

he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.”

“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin.

he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.”

“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to.

“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath.

“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness.

“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?”

“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part.

“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.”

he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks.

soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him.

he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance.

“ready?” he hushes out.

“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already.

“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more.

his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well.

sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas.

“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches.

in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm.

he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.”

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #art donaldson smut #art donaldson challengers #challengers #challengers smut #mike faist smut #mike faist challengers

2K notes · View notes

euphoriaslux · 7 days

Text

two’s a party.

summary: you recently transferred to stanford, and decide to tutor a tennis player in your class. he has a friend. severe indecency ensues.

word count: 3.3k

warnings : smut, threesomes, f!oral receiving, swearing, smoking, drinking. slight cuck energy if you squint (i’m sorry ((no i’m not))). no challengers spoilers!

a/n: this fic got away from me big time but this movie has rotted my brain and as a result i have written utter debauchery that i will not apologize for. just had to get this out of my head, enjoy!

stanford science hall. monday , march 3.

You swear the last thing you’ll hear before your body is lowered into your grave is the process of lactic acid breakdown.

It’s 2:30 PM. Kinesiology 189 with Professor Wilson, a lanky middle-aged man with a PhD in exercise science and a half-grown beard that you don’t think will ever fully grow in, is almost over. He’s teaching Extended Studies of the Human Body in a humid classroom filled with student-athletes, most of whom are trying to stay awake, trying to hide that they’re taking a nap, or making no attempt to hide that they’re on their phones. You don’t really blame any of them, because the professor’s voice is so soft and monotone that it feels like he’s begging everyone to pay attention to anything but him. You’ve managed to stay somewhat on course with the thread of today’s lecture, the notebook in front of you filled with scribbles of incomplete molecular structures and somewhat legible drawings of the muscular anatomy of a hamstring.

This class is required for your biology major since you’re on a pre-medicine track. You don’t know why you’re doing it, the whole doctor thing, but you’ve developed a weird fixation for this class. The functionality of the body, how muscles stretch and tear with each movement, and how amino acids work to build them back even bigger.

And, possibly because of the tennis player who sits four rows ahead of you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

His last name is Donaldson. You know because of the faded label on the massive bag he throws on the floor every time he walks into class, at least ten minutes late with a backward Stanford Tennis cap on his head. His first name remains a mystery, partly because he never talks in class, and mainly because you’ve made no attempt to speak to him. You like to think it’s because you’re so focused on the curriculum.

Professor Wilson knows your name, though, since you’re in his office hours every Thursday at 11 A.M. In part because he gives out most of the answers to his homework, and because you just transferred to Stanford your last year and very desperately need a letter of recommendation for medical school. Hence why you agreed to tutor a student with lower than 60% in the class during one of your meetings. And why everyone in the class was staring at you right now.

“... first come first serve, so reach out to her sooner rather than later.”

You give a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room. Most people have looked away, back to their distraction of choice, but you meet eyes with the fluffy blonde-haired tennis player.

stanford library. wednesday, march fifth.

It’s 11 A.M., and you feel like your brain is about to explode if you look at another practice set.

“Hey”.

Your head whips around to the harsh whisper, only to be met with the blue-eyed mystery from your class. He has that large bag slung over his shoulder, with the end of a tennis racket peeking out of it. His hair is slightly stuck to his face, and his compression tee is slick to his chest like a second skin.

“Hi,” you whisper back. He smiles before tossing his bag on the floor and sitting in the chair across from you, either unaware of or completely ignoring the glares he’s receiving from the other students studying.

“You know,” he pulls out some kind of nutrition bar from his bag, unwrapping it and taking an aggressive bite, “for someone advertising their services, you’re pretty hard to find.”

“You’re in Mr. Wilson’s class, right?” you ask, hoping your subdued voice will remind him that he’s in a notoriously quiet place. He hums, pointing at you with his half-eaten snack.

“And I’m trying not to fail, but you didn’t leave your number anywhere in the classroom, and you bolt after every class. So how am I supposed to patronize your tutoring services…” he trails off, his volume the same level as when he walked in. You furrow your brows as he leans back into the chair.

“That’s when you say who you are.”

You feel a burn on the back of your neck as you tell him your name. He glances down towards the problem set you’ve nearly finished.

“How do you turn in any of those, I can’t get halfway through one of them.”

You pause for a moment before leaning slightly across the table to whisper:

“This new weird thing called studying. I think it just got approved by the CDC.”

“Very funny,” he shakes his head as reaches for your binder with your class schedule printed out on the front of it.

“Why are you taking so many bio classes?”

“Because I’m a biology major,” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your voice, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re making this too easy for me,” you raise your hands in conceit.

“I have practice every day at five so you can tutor me for like an hour beforehand,” he says before standing up, crunching up the silver wrapper and stuffing it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. You scoff at his sentence.

“Well, thank you for so generously fitting me into your schedule,” you roll your eyes, turning the page in your textbook. He grins.

“Tell the coach you’re there for Art. They’ll let you through.”

stanford tennis courts. friday, march 7th.

It’s 4 PM, and the California sun is sweltering. Your shorts feel like they’ve become a part of your legs, and your bag feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. By the time you make it to the tennis courts Art is already on the green concrete, shirtless with beads of sweat dripping down his face and chest. You hear his grunts as he sprints across the court, hitting the ball toward a slightly taller brunette with dangerously short red shorts. You watch them at the entrance for a few minutes, slightly entranced as the two play so seamlessly, as if they know every move the other person is going to make. You force your eyes away as you walk up the bleachers, stepping over leftover water bottles and chip bags to sit down and grab your notes from your backpack. It takes a couple more minutes for Art to notice you, yelling your name after he turns around to grab a ball his partner had hit particularly hard. You wave, and he says something you can’t hear to the brunette before the two of them jog across the courts and up the stands to where you are, blocking the sun as the two stand side by side.

“Who’s your friend?” you ask as you stuff the problem set you were working on in between the pages of your notebook.

“I’m Patrick,” he says, with a toothy smile and his ears poking out from under his hair. He has a bit more of a boyish charm to him than Art does, whose eyes are glued to his brunette counterpart.

“Are you in Mr. Wilson’s class too?”

Patrick opens his mouth to answer but Art speaks first, slightly pushing his friend with his shoulder as he says “He doesn’t go to Stanford, too busy being a tennis pro.”

Patrick rolls his eyes but his smile doesn’t leave his face. You notice how different this Art feels from the one in the library, how direct his playfulness is and how close he and Patrick stand together, their sweaty torsos nearly melding together.

Interesting.

“Like, Andre Agassi level pro?” you smile as the two of them laugh. Patrick raises the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, and you can’t help but take a glance at the exposed skin just above his waistband.

“Sorry, he’s like the only tennis player I know.”

“No, no I’m taking that as a compliment that you think I’m on the level of Agassi. No takebacks if you see me play,” Patrick points at you.

“Will do,” you salute, turning over to Art.

“You ready to study?” you ask him as he makes a comically loud groan, his head falling back. Patrick laughs, reaching over to ruffle his friends hair.

“You do remember that’s why I’m here, right? Midterms are in two weeks.”

“I definitely have not forgotten that.” he says. You purse your lips just as Patrick’s eyes seem to light up.

“I’m staying at the Courtyard Hotel for the weekend. You two can come over and study, I need to review my last match anyway. Kill two birds with one stone,” Patrick suggests.

“Just studying?”

“Just studying,” Art says, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder. You glance between the two of them, trying to decipher the unspoken communication they seem to be doing. But you can’t crack it, so you shrug.

“Sure.”

“Let us finish this set, and then you’ll have me all to yourself. Sound fair?”

“Wow, what a privilege. Don’t take too long, it’s hell on Earth out here!” you yell the last part as Art jogs down the steps and back down towards the net. You look up once you realize that the sun is still being blocked, and Patrick is still standing in front of you.

“You ever play?” he grins, flipping the tennis racket in his hand.

“Tennis? God, no, that would not be a pretty sight. I’ll stick to what I’m good at,” you gesture to the books and notes in your lap. Patrick nods.

“If you ever want to learn, I could teach you sometime, you know if-” he’s cut off by Art yelling his name, and you both glance to see him with his hands on his hips.

“Go, don’t keep your boyfriend waiting,” you wave him off, and you swear you can see him blushing. Must have been the glare.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder as he runs toward Art.

courtyard hotel. saturday, march 8.

It’s 11 pm. There’s a cold shiver in the elevator as you wait to get to the fourth floor, your tennis shoes tapping against the floor as one hand plays with the handle of the pack of beer in your hand while the other crumples and re-crumples the piece of paper with the hotel room number Patrick scribbled on it.

what are you doing?

You don’t have time to think about the consequences of your actions as the robotic voice signals that you’re on the fourth floor, the elevator doors fluttering open. It’s like your feet have a mind of their own, as you find yourself almost mindlessly wandering through the hotel halls until you’re planted in front of room 4B. You raise your hand to knock on the door but before you can make contact with the wood it’s thrust open, and Patrick is standing behind it. His dark hair is slightly tousled around his face, his striped shirt unbuttoned and his black boxer briefs low on his waist. He’s smiling, that same big smile as before, but his face is a little flushed, a gentle pink hue touching his cheeks. The two of you don’t say anything for a few seconds, as if you were both testing to see who would concede first to acknowledge the other’s presence. You raise the pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in your right hand.

“I brought studying fuel.”

You were never good at waiting.

Patrick laughs before he moves slightly out of the way to allow you to walk into his room. It’s small, with a queen-sized bed and a tiny desk, and the A/C emits an odd rumbling sound as it smacks against the window. Clothes and scorecards are strewn across the floor, and the scent of cigarettes permeates the room. You place the alcohol on the floor before deciding to sit on the bed, kicking off your shoes as you cross your legs. Patrick seems to stall for a moment, smiling to himself before closing the door behind him. He doesn’t lock the door, but you didn’t notice.

“Art’s not here yet?” you ask, watching as Patrick walks over and tears open the cardboard case, cracking open a can. Taking a sip, he leans against the desk as he smiles.

“Art can be bad with time.”

“As I’ve noticed,” you reach your hand out to motion towards the drink and Patrick hands it to you, staring as you take a large sip.

“Well,” you wipe the side of your mouth, “I told him to bring the topics he wanted to study, so I guess we can’t do anything until he gets here.”

Patrick nods with a slight pout, his fingers playing with the pop tab of the can. “I guess we can’t.”

“How’s tennis… stuff,” you laugh as you finish the question, not sure of exactly what to say.

Patrick seems to tense a little at the mention of the sport, moving over to sit next to you on the bed. His knee grazes your leg and you feel a slight buzz at the contact as he takes the beer from your hand.

“I’m kinda fucking it up right now,” he says, and you furrow your brows.

“How? You were like, really good yesterday.”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He hands you the beer and you finish it off, placing the empty can at the bottom of your feet.

“I’m good with Art. It feels so fucking natural and easy with him. But in my other matches, I don’t know. I just … can’t replicate it.”

You nudge him with your leg.

“Sounds like you two were made to play tennis together.”

He makes a noise of agreement, his hands slowly moving to ghost over your thigh.

“You and Art are pretty close?” you ask as he plays with the bottom hem of your shorts, but he doesn’t say anything. You take his silence as a yes.

“Do you ever get jealous?”

“Of Art?” he asks, almost incredulously. You shrug.

“Yeah, or jealous of the girls he’s with. Either or.”

Patrick sits on that for a few moments before smirking.

“What’s mine is mine, and what’s his is mine.”

You laugh at that, a real deep laugh, and Patrick giggles next to you, the both of you tipsy from the can of beer you finished. You reach over and put your hand on his flushed face, rubbing your hand across his cheek.

“What were you doing before I came?” you feel his face warm even more against your skin as you position yourself closer to him.

“Practicing- or, sorry, rereading my scorecards from my last match.”

You tutted as you moved your hand to the back of his neck, gently running your hands through his hair.

“You can tell me the truth, Patrick.”

He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before looking up at you as if to check if that was too much. Whatever your expression is gives him the confidence to move down to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.

“I think you know.”

You feel a pull in your lower stomach at his words, muffled by his mouth nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he sucks hard enough for you to put your hand around on his face at the pressure. Pulling his face up, the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and his eyes glance toward your lips. You wanted to wait, to make him beg and plead for it, but your body seemingly pulled you forward as your pressed your mouth onto his.

You were really quite bad at waiting.

He tastes like tobacco and faintly of the fruit medley in the dining hall, and you sigh as his lips interlock with yours and his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you into him. The kiss gets messy and hard, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and into your mouth as you lift your leg to straddle Patrick, grinding into him. He whimpers into the kiss as his calloused hands drop down to the waistband of your shorts, hesitating for a moment before dropping his hand into your underwear. You grind just a little bit faster as his fingers press circles into your clit, covering your mouth with your hand as you moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he uses his other hand to guide your hips, and your move your hands down to tug firmly on his hair. You can feel your climax building, the pressure in your stomach getting closer and closer to taking you over the edge-

You both jump at the sound of the hotel room dor slamming shut. Art is standing there, in that damn backward cap and a Stanford tee shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest, saying nothing as you and Patrick sit up straight, him adjusting his crotch and you smooth down your shirt, avoiding his gaze. Finally, the silence is broken by Art laughing.

“Christ, I’m not the cops,” he slips out of his slides as he waltzes over and opens a can of beer, drinking about half of it in one go. You look at him, and at Patrick, and then back at him, not knowing what the hell you just got yourself into.

“You want to fuck him right?” Art asks, and you can’t help your small gasp at how easily he said that. You glance at Patrick, hoping he’ll know what to say, but he’s just staring at Art.

“I-um,”

“So, no one’s stopping you,” Art cuts you off, taking a final swig of his beer and moving to stand directly in front of you. You open your mouth to try and explain, but before you can talk Patrick’s mouth is on yours again, his hand roaming your body. His grip is firmer now, his fingertips digging into the side of your stomach. He tugs at the bottom of your shirt and you separate, breathless as you pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Patrick’s mouth moves down to your neck, then your collarbones, and then your chest as he reaches around to take of your bra, and you feel on fire from Art’s gaze across the room. As Patrick kisses down your stomach and yanks down your shorts, you turn over to meet Art’s eyes.

“Come here.”

Whatever resolve Art was holding onto crumbles as he quickly takes off his shirt and slips out of his Nike shorts, tossing his hat on the dresser. In a flash Art’s hands are on your neck, tilting your head around to kiss you as Patrick lifts up your hips so he can take off your underwear. Art’s lips are softer than Patrick’s but he kisses you a little bit harder, his hand cupping the base of your neck. Somehow, they both taste the same. You moan into Art’s mouth as you feel Patrick’s tongue swirl around your clit, rolling your hips into his mouth as Art’s cock presses into your back. It’s just so much so fast, and that familiar buzz starts to pool in your lower stomach.

“Look at him,” Art turns your head to Patrick and you look into his eyes as you cum, Art’s hands hold your head forward as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Patrick’s hands are digging into your hips as he stares up at you and Art. Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, leaning against Art as Patrick leans back up, his mouth a few inches from yours.

“Who do you want first?

#challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader #mike faist #josh o’connor #mike faist x reader #josh o’connor x reader #mike faist fanfic #josh o’connor fanfic

1K notes · View notes

mirohlayo · 5 months

Text

MY INTROVERT GIRL | LN4

( being an introvert, you became insecure about it because lando seems to prefer his extrovert friend girl. )

warning : some angst, insecurity, jealousy, fluff and fluff, lando having a soft spot for you 🥹

note : as an introvert, this one is for my others introvert girlies 🫶

word count : 4.9k

!! english not my first language !!

your feet crawl on the floor. you make your way through the crowd, trying to get into the mclaren garage. a wide smile is glued on your lips as you get closer to the place you want to be there.

some mclaren engineers greet you. you smile at them, throwing some "hello" or "how you guys doing ?" and keep walking towards the garage. they all know you as the good and close friend of lando, but what you don't know is that they secretly see you as lando's biggest crush.

because it is actually the truth. of course you are not aware of this, but lando is really in love in with you. and not just a little. the mclaren members are not blind, even the others agree with them : lando is so fucking head over heels for you.

it's just so obvious. the way he always stutters on his words whenever you're talking to him, the way he blushes when you'd look at him, the way he looks at you with just pure affection and adoration.

he truly has a soft spot for you. when you two are together, it's like there is only you in the world. everyone can feel your deep connection and that there is more than friendship in the air. when you both interact together, it just looks like two soulmates who love each other sincerely.

but it seems you and lando are the only one who don't notice it. for you, he was just being friendly. and for him, he was sure you would never love him because you were too perfect to be his girlfriend.

and this really gets on everyone's nerves. like for god damn, when this little game will finally end ? all of your friends want you to be together already, but it seems like you guys are just brats. and it annoys even your families.

the engineers give you playful smiles as you approach the garage. you keep walking and once you're here your eyes immediately laid on your favorite boy out there.

lando.

oh god. he's so perfect. how much you love him is crazy. his cute smile, his blue green eyes, his soft curly hair. you love everything about him and even more his personality. you wish he was yours.

but unfortunately, he's not. and it pains your heart a little more every day. it feels like you will never be his girlfriend. why ? because he acts friendly with you. because he won't get into a relationship with a common girl like you. and mostly, because of the one girl standing right next to him.

your eyes shift on the blonde girl who is laughing with lando. ohh. how you wish you were her. she's truly beautiful and well, perfect. typically lando's type of girl.

ava. it's her name. she's gorgeous, kind, sweet and funny. and plus she gets along with everybody. she's an extrovert person. and you know how lando likes extrovert people. he gets more comfortable with them and he's just more himself around them.

and that's why you became insecure about you. not for your physical appearance, no. but for your introvert side. you are a pure introvert. you don't get along quickly with others like would do ava.

you're shy and timid. you're uncomfortable around crowd and people you don't know. you're kind of bad at socializing and it takes time for you to open yourself to people. you're awkward when someone would bring you into a conversation.

but ava is so the opposite of you. she's not a bit shy. she makes people feel comfortable and she loves socializing. she also likes when people would talk about her. she's not afraid, she's just the moment. and you felt like lando loves that. that lando just loves her.

you keep looking at them. lando is laughing at one of her jokes, and the sparkles in his eyes when he looks at her tighten your poor heart. she pushes him gently, hiding a smile while he imitates a hurt expression.

seeing them like that, you don't even want to say hi to lando. you sigh and take a step back. "jealous much huh ?"

you turn around and meet oscar, his eyes scanning your face. "not even a bit" you reply and try to keep a straight face. "yeah, if only you know that he also feels the same way about you right now" he whispers softly, you almost miss it.

you frown and confusion fills your eyes. "what ?" you try to get an answer. he shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest, a dumb smile playing over his lips. "nothing. just forget what i said". you can't help but laugh at him. "oh okay. mister wants to play the mysterious" you say and he starts to laugh with you.

you and oscar are good friends. he is like your confident. he knows about your feelings for his teammate driver. you always talk about it only with him because you trust him. but he also knows that lando does have the same feelings for you. and for him it's just funny, the way you're always bringing him back in your conversations while lando is also doing the same with you.

and like that, you start talking with oscar. you also found comfort in him, kind of a safe place, because he's like you. an introvert buddy. he's shy and timid just like you. so you two understand each other well, and you get along perfectly.

that's why when lando sees you laughing tears with oscar in the garage, his heart stopped. and his brain too. he stops listening to the blonde girl next to him, who don't even notice it.

his poor heart pang. his poor heart twists. he's feeling very jealous now. how he looks at you with anger. how he is so annoyed. his favorite girl, his precious crush having fun with his teammate. he don't like that at all.

he knows getting jealous over oscar is not good, because first of all he has lily. but still, he knows how much comfort you find in him. because oscar reminds you of yourself. you're both introvert, you're both acting the same with people.

and he feels like you just prefer oscar's introvert personality than him, with his extrovert one. he knows he can be a very outgoing guy and he also knows how extrovert people sometimes makes you uncomfortable. but he thought it wasn't the same with him.

from the way you were acting like an extrovert girl only with him. the way he was the only one you would talk about anything for hours. the fact you always found him in a very crowded place and would never leave him, sticking to his hand.

yeah, he just thought he was the only extrovert person you liked. but it seems oscar was your number one boy.

you don't know that since you appeared in the garage, all he wanted was to look at you. to leave ava and instead talk to you, keeping all of you just for him. to be sure he's the only boy you would be comfortable with. to make sure you're the only introvert he needs and loves.

a soft touch on his arm come him back to the reality. he knows looking at you and oscar like he's going to kill him is not good at all, so he shifts his gaze because it also hurts him. the blonde girl plunges into his arms and he almost let her fall down.

"are you still listening ?" she says softly with puppy eyes. he sighs and take a step back, letting his arms rest next to his body. "yeah sorry, i was thinking about the race" "oh, it's okay lan".

lan. how he loves this surname, but only when y/n would say it. he don't like hearing it from ava. it doesn't mean he don't like her. of course she's kind, funny and sweet. but that's all. she's not as kind as y/n when she would put others before herself, she's not as adorable as y/n when she would show her shiny smile. she's just not y/n. nobody is like her.

and when ava would call him like that, it's friendly. it's just a common surname for him. but when you would call lando as "lan", oh god. he's getting weak on the knees. the way it perfectly rolls over your tongue, the way you use a soft tone to pronounce it. it makes lando feel lighter, his heart beating way faster. he just loves when you call him like that.

yeah, nobody can deny it. it blinds everyone. and lando knows it damn well. he has a soft spot for you. and only for you.

it's almost time. your heart pounds faster and you start to think if it's a good idea or not. your hands sweat as you grab your dress.

you need to prepare yourself. for what ? a party. yeah, a damn party. you genuinely didn't want to attend it, because first of all it's not in your habits. you're not used to stay awake all night and stay with strangers in a room. plus with loud music, even though you play music out loud when you're alone in your house.

but there it's different. your shy introvert side tells you to stay at your house and don't go to that fucking party. but still, a part of you tells you to attend it, because why not ? and plus there will be someone special, someone you actually crave to see.

lando norris of course.

and for nothing in the world you would miss seeing him. so you gather all of your courage and decided to join him and your friends there. it is a party planed by pietra for her birthday.

being close friends with lando, you were able to meet his others friends like his best friend max. you started hanging out with them, and like that you became also friend with max's girlfriend, pietra. she's now one of your best friend. you just literally loves this girl and so does she. so of course just for that, you had to show yourself to her party.

you adjust your white dress and take a look in the mirror. it fits you perfectly, like literally perfectly. you were gorgeous. you're not really the type to wear dresses, top and pants are your way go to. it's pretty rare to catch you in a dress. but when you would wear one, oh god. you're the most beautiful woman to walk on earth.

and white suits you even more. it contrasts well with your skin tone and embellish your hair. it makes your face bright, shining even more than usual. but you are not very sure of your choice. yes, you look very pretty but you need to be sure of that.

you grab your phone and call pietra. only she can tell you if it's okay or not. she picks up the phone and you don't wait a second to put on your camera. "how do i look ? tell me the truth" you ask stressed. she looks shocked. but kind in a good way. really good way. she smiles brightly and let a scream out. "girl you're literally a goddess on earth !! fuck you're too pretty for us"

you laugh and blush a little, relieved you look good. "thanks pietra" she gives you an implicit look and grins at you. "you're going to make someone loose his mind. if you see who i'm talking abo-" "oh please stop girl" you cut her midway and she just laughs, her perfect smile crossing the phone screen. "anyway i need to get things done, see you soon babe"

you wave your hand and give her your best smile before hang up. you look at your reflection. yeah, it is true, you definitely look incredibly beautiful. you just finish quickly to prepare yourself, getting your hair and natural makeup done. and now you're ready to leave your house. to go to the party.

you're still not really in the mood to show up there. yes maybe it will be fun, but the idea of just cancel it and instead stay underneath your warm blanket watching some netflix movies sounds good to you. but no, you can't do that to pietra. you need to go. and you also need to see him.

so after the drive, you thanks the chauffeur and walk towards pietra's villa she rented for tonight. loud music escapes from the place, and you already regret coming here. but it's too late now, you need to go.

you walk inside the living room. a lot of people are already drinking and dancing. even a dj is here doing the show. you find a lot of new faces, but thanks there is still some people you recognize.

you walk further inside and luckily you find pietra talking with some friends. there are lando, max and some quadrant members around her too. your heart skip a beat at the sight of lando.

his slightly unbottoned shirt which contrasts with his tan skin, his chain around his neck and his veiny arms. you can easily run out of air. and his smile. oh he really makes you lose your mind.

you carefully approach the group. "hello guys" you shyly say and everyone shift to look at you. a bunch of pairs of eyes scan you, and you can feel yourself burn under their gazes. but especially from lando's one.

the man he's sure he forgot how to breath and think correctly. he has never been this speechless. your hairstyle, your pretty makeup, your white dress which highlights your perfect body. it's maybe the first time he sees you in a dress, and he can't take enough of it.

he can't take his eyes off you. you're such a beautiful girl to admire. and even more now. he truly wants to keep staring at you all night, but it would make you uncomfortable. so he struggles to not stare. but it seems like he failed at it.

"looks like lando is having too much from the dressed girl" pietra tease him, giving him an implicit smile. you blush, because you actually notice how lando was looking at you. with an intense gaze. the driver don't reply back, instead he acts like he didn't hear anything but still gives you a shy smile.

"it's rare to see you in dresses y/n. but you look very pretty" ria gives you a wink. "thank you" you simply answer, too shy to say anything else. a blonde head suddenly shows up inside the group. she let appears her bright smile that everyone loves and finally stuck her gaze on you.

"huh yeah, she looks good." ava says, a doubted look crossing her eyes. she gives you a fake smile and move to be next to lando.

you know ava don't like you. maybe hate you even. because you're also close with lando. she wants the driver for herself, but it seems the man prefer y/n. and for you it's the opposite. you think lando prefers the extrovert girl.

that's why you distance yourself from lando. or actually it is ava's fault. since some weeks now, she's getting closer with the mclaren driver. always going outside together, always showing up to the races. she's always clung to him.

and because of that you became distant with lando. it's been a while since you have not been alone with him, or talk to him for a bit. you miss those moments. and lando craves them too.

the blonde girl keep searching for lando's attention, but it seems like he was still stuck on y/n. "i'm going to get a drink" you say because you didn't want to stay here anymore. "let me accompany you then" lando quickly reply to you.

he takes his chance. he wants to be alone with you again, to talk to you like weeks before.

you smile and he follows you to the bar. you order a juice, you're not a great fan of alcoholic drinks. soon the barman lends you the glass and you thanks him. "hum... i-i just wanted to say y-you're really really gorgeous" he stutters very hard over his words.

"oh thank you lan. you too, you look very pretty" you reply with burned cheeks. he can't help but blush back too, his heart beating so fast now. oh and you called him lan. he's in heaven now. the way you said it with an affectionate tone, it soften his tiny heart. it grows up even more his soft spot for you.

"i-i thought you weren't going to come" he stutters once again. and you notice it of course. lando always stammers when he'd talk to you. you don't know why. that's the reason you think it's because of being an introvert.

with his others extrovert friends, just like ava, he would talk so easily. he never stammer and he looks always comfortable. but with you it's different. maybe he's awkward around introvert people.

it makes you feel even more insecure. because you also noticed how he would do funny things only with his extrovert friends, especially ava rather than you. like he's having more fun with her and he neglects and refrains from doing certain things with you, that of course he does with the blonde woman. yeah, it makes you feel very insecure.

you almost started to hate yourself, to hate your introvert self.

"yeah, i genuinely didn't want to show up. but it's pietra's birthday, i wasn't going to miss that" you shrug and he simply nods. "actually, i missed talking to you y/n. it's great to see you again" he confesses.

your heart meltdowns. he's literally so caring. "me too lando. i'm glad to spend time with you" you reveal to the boy and you swear you saw him giggles.

"okay everyone listen, we're going to play some games outside so come if you want to take part of it" max's voice in the microphone alerts the crowd.

some people start to walk outside the villa, making their way to the garden. you want to say something to lando, that you don't really want to go outside and prefer to stay inside. but before you could a hand drag lando's one. "lan come with me, let's play a game"

ava. always ava. and before lando can reply back something, she's already bringing him outside. he gives you a sorry look, pain flooding in his eyes, and you just show him a small smile, murmuring a "that's okay go".

you sigh, watching him fade away with the girl you wish you could be.

you drink an another sip. now all you want is to leave the party. it's not great for pietra but you know she'll forgive you. everything is boring now. even the music, you beg for it to stop. a desperate and sad feeling flows through your body.

"come with me outside then". you move your head and cross oscar's eyes. you feel relieved a bit, your confident being here next to you is a very good support now. "for what ? seeing him enjoy his time with her ? no thanks". the driver sigh and put his hand over yours. "please y/n. at least take part of the party, not for him but for your friend pietra. don't let them know you're sad."

you don't know what to reply. you stay silent for a while. and that is when oscar lost it. "okay it's enough. let's have fun together. i don't like seeing you unhappy because of this dumb bratty man"

he drags you outside in the garden. you couldn't do nothing but follow him. you know arguing back wouldn't help either. so you keep staying to his sides.

you see lando and ava together, laughing loudly like there are only them here. like it's just the two of them. you roll your eyes, annoyed. "oh yeah what a great idea oscar" "oh please stop looking at them and instead give me your goddamn attention" he replies back and you know he is a bit angry at you. "okay ´m sorry" you whisper.

and, suddenly, he approaches you. and he starts tickling you. "w-wait oscar what are you doi-" you can't even finish your sentence that you burst into laughter. oscar knows you're very ticklish and he takes advantage of it.

you try to tickle him back, and once you reach his sides he also starts to laugh loudly. "you're gonna regret what you have just done" he says and starts to pursue you.

you run as fast as you can, dodging his attacks. you can't help but laugh like a child, feeling so happy right now. oscar genuinely knows how to cheep you up.

but that of course drives lando's attention on you two. he stops playing his game, leaving ava playing alone now with max and the others. he keeps staring at the both of you, having way more fun than him with the blonde woman.

and jealousy starts to run again in his blood. fuck. how he wants to be oscar right now, how he wants to laugh childishly with you like that. he hates being stuck on ava's side now. he wants to join you. to keep you. maybe to run out of the party and instead spend the night with you like on a date.

he truly wants you.

so he gives up the game and the blonde girl who is calling him back. but he doesn't care. he walk fast towards you. he sees red. once he's at your level he quickly grabs your hand.

"come play games with me y/n" he kind of order you. you frown and let your hand out of his grip, which twist his heart. "no why ? you're having fun with ava" you reply coldly. "yeah but join us. don't look childish by running everywhere with him and inste-" "what did you say ??" you cut him midway.

oscar breathes and sigh. he knows something will happen, but it's for the best. "okay I'll leave the two of you together" he quickly says and in a second he's already left.

"i-i'm sorry, that's not what i meant". lando didn't mean to say that. he was just so jealous of you and oscar that he didn't think about his words. if only you know how bad he wanted to look childish with you, running everywhere in the garden. "oh yeah, don't search for any excuse lando. i was feeling much better when you were playing with ava and abandoning me for her". you coldly throw that at him.

his heart cries of pain. "but i would enjoy much my time with you instead of her" he reveals, and he beg you'd trust him because it is all the truth. but ava shout his name back, and his head automatically turns to look at her. you roll your eyes and start to walk back. "that's what i can see".

you walk inside the villa and guide yourself to the villa's entryway. lando is following you back, trying to grab your hand. "don't go y/n please". he begs you. "no, i'm leaving the party lan".

he sighs and keep following your steps. "okay but then let me drive you back to your house". he proposes this offer to you, and you don't reply. so he takes your silence as a yes.

you find his car and he opens the door for you. he's still a gentleman even in this situation and it makes you feel strangely better. you sit in the car and lando joins you. he puts the contact on and he starts to drive.

the ride is silent. very silent. no one want to talk. or at least nobody knows what to say. you scroll your phone, and lando keep stealing glances at you. he doesn't like when you ignore him. soon the ride is over and you're finally in front of your door house.

you quickly get out of the car and run towards your door, but before locking you up behind lando gently grab your wrist. "for one last time please y/n. listen to me".

you sigh and meet his eyes. you can see him pleading you by just looking at you. his arms suddenly wraps your waist, and he pulls you closer. his hands gently stroke your sides. you feel his breath on your head. "look at me y/n" he softly say.

you lift up your head and oh - you were not expecting seeing the abundant affection flooding in his eyes. "i'm sorry for what i've said earlier. you have to believe me, i really didn't intend to say it". he starts.

"but then why would you stop me from having fun with oscar while ava was there ?" you desperately ask.

"because i wanted to have fun with you too" he says back to back. "but i thought you prefer ava's company" you frown. "not when i can have yours" he smiles.

you look at him confused. what was he trying to say ? you're not getting it. "i don't understand lando. why ? you love ava right ?" you ask, even though you already know his answer. you don't even want to hear it, but it's too late.

"arghh for god damn no !! it's you. i love you. you're the one i fell in love hard with. i fucking love you y/n" he almost shouts it, getting angrier because you didn't get what he was trying to say.

you blink. what ?? does lando truly love you ? or are you dreaming ?

"y-you love me ?" you ask again. "yes, i love you. i'm so head over heels for you and i can't stop myself from loving you". he says with loving eyes.

a shy smile spreads over your face. so you're your crush crush ? you can't believe it. it can't be real. the one you thought you won't have a chance with just confessed his feelings for you.

"but i really thought you loved ava. you were always having fun with her and you got along with her." you murmur softly.

"yes of course i'm good friend with her. but she's not the one that i want. it's you. i want you. and i need you baby" he replies , a shy smile dancing on his lips.

"but why you were doing certain things with only her and not me ? i always felt like that you couldn't love me because i'm an introvert and it seemed like you prefer extrovert girls". you finally reveal what you feel, what you're insecure about.

it pains lando. because you don't value yourself enough while he would do anything to have you as his girlfriend. why would he prefer his extrovert friend girl when you're here, the most perfect and beautiful introvert girl on earth ?

"it's not like that baby. i genuinely know you're introvert and that sometimes there are things that makes you uncomfortable. and i didn't want to make you feel that way. that's why i neglected doing activities with you, because i didn't want to rush and hurry things, i wanted to take time with you and to make sure you're comfortable with me"

your eyes soften as you listen to him. god he's just so perfect, you thought.

"also sometimes i don't know how to react or what to do because i don't want to hurt you. you're so precious to me and i wouldn't forgive me if i ever hurt you". he continues and his hands move to your cheeks, rubbing them gently.

"you know i almost hated myself from being an introvert just because of that" you whisper.

"and i'm so fucking sorry for that, love. i love you the way you are. i fell in love with you because you are an introvert, truly. like it's just the cutest thing ever. i love that side of you and i hope you'll never change it. i don't care about ava and others extrovert girls. because now i have you, my love"

"but i thought you we-"

"can you please stop adding things and instead let me kiss you girl ?" he rolls his eyes ans wait for an answer, a silly smile over his lips.

"yeah you can kiss me" you shyly answer.

he smiles brightly and without thinking he leans in. he presses his lips against yours and delights in the feeling. your lips are so soft, he don't want to stop kissing them. you wrap your arms around him too and pull him closer.

he struggles to pull back, already missing your lips against his. he bumps your noses and let a small laugh out of his mouth. "my introvert girl"

you softly slap him on the arm and he laughs at you. "i love you my shy girl" he says jokingly. you roll your eyes and kiss him on the cheek. "i love you too lando. so so much".

now the mclaren driver is the happiest man alive. and he knows for sure he will take care of his introvert girl, the most perfect woman for him.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #ln4 fic

3K notes · View notes

oukabarsburgblr · 1 month

Text

YARICCHIN BITCH CLUB X MALE READER [SMUT ONESHOT]

FEATURING : AKEMI, TAMURA, KASHIMA, TOONO, Itome, Yuri, Shikatani x male reader

Note : [UPPERCASE] are focused ships, [lowercase] are less/not focused.

When the club finds out the captain of the Morimori Private Academy Volleyball Team is a virgin, a very pursued and hot person in the school, to which they invite him to the club's exclusive gangbang!

6.6k words. Smut, con, slight dubcon, multiple cylinders and overstimulation. 18+ only.

Find out more under the cut!

"Ah..."

The (h/c) stared down at Akemi Keiichi, the club president of the infamous Yaribu at his school, who had been gleaming up at him. (m/n) who had been pulled out of his practice at the request of the blonde, the sounds of volleyball being slammed on the court rang behind them as they stood outside the gym.

Akemi wasn't alone however. He had dragged two of his members along with him. One of which (m/n) had been acquainted, the other seemed like a first year. "(m/n)-senpai you look as ugly as ever." Tamura cursed at the hot third year who was in a compression shirt, albeit a bit sweaty from his practice but it only accentuated his charm. The captain just stared at the blue-haired male before turning to Akemi.

"I didn't really catch your question properly...mind saying it again?" Well (m/n) did. He just wanted to make sure. Due to the question itself being a load of bullcrap.

Akemi nodded. "Of course, (m/n)-chan! A little birdie had told us that you are still a cute pristine little virgin! Would you like to join our gangbang to pop your cherry?" The blonde smiled at him, virgins are his favourite after all, as he made a gesture with his fingers of fucking a hole.

(m/n) dreaded at the thought of the news of his virginity spreading. His volleyball freshman juniors had asked if he had a lover or not, and he responded no, also adding the fact that he had never had done it. It had slipped and (m/n) didn't think of it much but alas, the idea of the infamous captain who had brought the team to new heights had remained pure and untouched had brought attention to his abundant fans, and it had reached the ears of the Yaribu Club.

Now, he was standing outside the volleyball gyms with three members of the lewd club asking him to join in their gangbang event. The (h/c) remained silent and rubbed his tired eyes at the outrageous invite.

"You can decline, (m/n)-senpai! If you're not okay with it." The third member had chirped, as he had remained silent in the conversation. He had a deeper blue to his messy locks, darker than Tamura's. "...and you are?"

"Kashima Yuu. I'm a first year." Kashima bowed to his senpai. His heart jumping at the fact that the infamous (m/n) had asked for his name as he revelled at the fact that he had managed to speak (as little as he did) to the (h/c). "...I'm (m/n) (l/n), third year."

And he's humble too? With such a nice voice. Kashima smiled shyly, overexxagerating (m/n)'s introduction. "Kashima-kun! You're supposed to coax him!" Akemi shook his junior's shoulders as Tamura cackled at the obvious blush and crush of Kashima on the (h/c).

(m/n) just stayed silent and left the premise quietly, locking the gym doors as well as he continued practice. There was banging on the door as Akemi yelled at him to come out. His vice-captain asked out of concern but (m/n) told him to ignore the idiots.

"You guys never know when to quit, huh?"

Again, the (h/c) stared down at a pleading, bowing male before him. Another member of the Yaribu Club had approached him right as he was about to go to volleyball practice. And here they were alone in the class hallways, the sun still at its peak in the midday.

These past few days have been an annoyance to the volleyball player. Akemi had been long friends with the (h/c), ever since their first year together and has been aware of the Yaricchin Bitch Club's activities and purpose but he has never indulged in that side in particular.

Had Akemi ever proposed to? Ever so slightly but not this bold of an attempts. This new kid in front of him explained that the short blonde had proposed a reward to those who could bring (m/n) into their clubroom. The required five customer service quota would be cut down to zero, but they would be voted and rewarded as best club member for three months straight.

Other members had approached him, undeniably. Akemi himself has been harassing him, slipping a dildo in his bag once or twice or cornering him in the school bathroom but (m/n) had managed to escape every time. Itome couldn't care less at all of this.

Tamura had tried dragging him by force, but one punch from (m/n)'s vice captain silenced his drastic measures as he resorted to yelling at the (h/c) about the gangbang instead.

Shikatani had also asked him to stay after class, them being classmates and all. The pretty male flashed his lingerie underneath his school uniform and (m/n) only deadpanned at his seduction attempt, Shikatani got really offended at his refusal.

The first year from the other day, Kashima Yuu, had caught up to him during lunch. Inviting him again, saying that Akemi had pushed him before he makes Kashima become the focus of the gangbang.

"I don't get it. Why is everyone so adamant for my virginity?" The captain groaned as he palmed his face.

Kashima only laughed nervously, with a slight red hue on his cheeks. "(m/n)-senpai is a very admirable person. I'm shocked Akemi-san hadn't gotten to you earlier." (m/n) kicked his shin, out of annoyance of the stupid joke.

Oddly enough, the mascot of the Yaribu had not come to see him yet. Yuri had deemed (m/n), as he quoted 'boring' since the pink-haired male was not interested in an uninterested person. That's what the (h/c) had thought until he found out Yuri had been searching for his dorm room late at night.

His mind wandered back to the present, the brunette in front of him bowing down. "Who are you, again?" The brunette flinched as he peeked up at the (h/c), only knowing of him from praises from Kashima.

"Toono...Toono Takashi." "First year?" The brunette nodded as he kept his head down. (m/n) frowned as he moved to leave the conversation but yelped when he felt something clutching his legs. "Please (m/n)-senpai! I'm begging you, I really need the reward!" Toono cried out as he hugged the captain's legs tightly. If his vice-captain was here, a fight would've broke out but alas he was alone.

"I don't want to sleep with anyone, I swear! I really need the reward so they'd leave me alone. I'm too straight for this!!" The first year sobbed as he begged for the (h/c) to comply. (m/n) doubted his last sentence but whatever.

Everyone is starting to annoy him recently. With all the fuss about his cherry and whatnot. It's just his virginity. Not marriage or whatever. This isn't the Victorian era where one's purity brings wealth or value. Fuck it, just this once.

(m/n) groaned loudly as he sneered at the brunette at his legs.

"You'll leave me alone after this one time, right?"

"Hn-ng ahckk!"

(m/n) was choking on his own saliva. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he stepped inside the clubroom, the first thing he saw was Akemi's shocked face. Now he was lying on the ground clothes astrewn, on a futon they oh so gracefully brought out for him in the middle of the small room.

"HAHAHA SHO CUTE!! DICK'S SO CUTEE!" Yuri drooled over the (h/c)'s half-hard penis, his spit drooping over the (s/c) tip as Yuri dove in and immediately deep-throated earning a yelp from (m/n). His bottom couldn't stay still as someone had kept playing with his hole, his dirty cum-filled hole.

There were too many people for (m/n) to register. Too many dicks shoved in his face. Hands groping his athletic body. Tamura was still mangling a dildo down his throat, choking the (h/c). The volleyball player had a suspicion that it was used before.

"Now I know why so many people are lusting after you, (m/n)-chan. It's a wonder how you have kept to yourself this long." Shikatani mumbled, as he pulled the rope connected to the choker around his classmate's neck as he pinched the (h/c)'s nipples, eyes mulling over it twitching. Said (h/c) cried out as he moaned all over the purple toy in his mouth, Tamura taking great pleasure in his expressions.

(m/n) felt so overwhelmed. Hours could have passed since the room is so dimly lit now, only orange hues barely spilling in through the closed curtains. Immediately after he entered he was pinned down to the floor. Itome was slightly jealous due to Akemi being oddly possessive of (m/n)'s chastity.

"Ahh ahh mmngahh~" The (h/c) panted as his legs were forced up forcibly up to his shoulders as he sat on the white bedding, Itome holding him up as Akemi shoved his lubed fingers in and out of (m/n)'s asshole while unbuttoning his school uniform. "I love virgins, (m/n)-chan! But I think I'd love yours the most."

The president cooed as he slipped his tongue into (m/n)'s mouth, sloppily making out with the sobbing (h/c) who was so stimulated having his asshole fingered by someone else for the first time. He felt someone taking his free hand to rub on something. Something dripping.

Tamura groaned at the feeling of the calloused hand he's using to rub himself off. "Mm- ahh your hand is so nice senpai..." Tamura mewled as he thrusted his hips into (m/n)'s fist.

The (h/c) heard a mumble behind him before he jumped at the cold feeling of someone's tongue slobbering all over his neck, his body flinching in Itome's hold. "HAHAHAHAH VIRGIN VIRGIN!!" Yuri licked (m/n)'s left ear, teasing his tongue into the rim of his ear canal. The volleyball captain's tried to pull his ass away from Akemi's fingers before the blonde stopped him by pulling his hair harshly.

"Don't you dare run away, (m/n)-chan. We all have waited oh so patiently for you <3." Akemi pulled away to speak and kiss his cheek before shoving his mouth into the (h/c)'s. His fingers teasingly pressing into his asshole before he added all four, essentially preparing his bottom for the many dicks to cum.

Akemi was the one to fuck him first. It was definitely him. (m/n) could never forget the look of delight on the blonde's face when he thrusted himself into the squirming (h/c) while he was still held up by Itome. And oh god his dick was so big. Why did a small guy like Akemi Keiichi have that thing around anyways?

"A-Akemi! P-please slow down- ah!" (m/n) gripped the blonde's arms as he grounded himself from Akemi's excited thrust. "Like a piston!" Yuri cheered from somewhere in the room. The (h/c) couldn't see much, the room was dark from his request but he couldn't have felt so seen.

His asshole twitched every time Akemi's large cock brutally pounded into him, pulling tears that dripped on his lower lashes. He was naked and fucked bare whilst everyone watched. Everyone's eyes on him and their hands had violated his chastity one way or another.

Everyone? Toono? (m/n) tried searching for the brunette, the one who he had let him pull him to this whorish club. He could only see a handful of brown hair hiding behind one of the couches.

"Hey hey. Dick's up here fucker." Tamura grappled his jaw as he positioned his cock towards (m/n)'s mouth, taking advantage of him gasping for air every time Akemi fucked into his ass, he slipped in his wet cock into (m/n)'s throat. "And here I thought your hand was good, (m/n)-senpai! Mmm~ you might be better than Yuri." He didn't notice when Itome had left his figure, (m/n) now laying on the thin futon as Akemi fucked him missionary.

His tongue instinctively swirled around Tamura's tip, his eyes lulled back into his skull as Tamura pressed his crotch further into his face, his balls slapping against his chin and his precum slobbering all over (m/n)'s mouth. He tried swallowing to gain airway but that only made the second year moan even more, spilling cum into his mouth, choking the (h/c).

Tamura pulled out and laid his spent penis on (m/n)'s face, covering his right cheek and eye. The (h/c) was gasping for air as cum drooled out of his mouth, his body still flinching as Akemi bit into his pecs. "Ne ne (m/n)-chan. You were always my type, y'know? That's why I'm so excited to see you like this~"

Like a whore with a dick flat on his face and underneath Akemi getting pounded to no end. (m/n)'s cries only got louder as Akemi started to thrust even faster and shallower. "I-I think I'm gonna cum- I'm gonna cum real soon! Ah ah! I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cu-ummm!!" The (h/c) mewled as he Tamura's cum drooled out from the corner of his lips as he threw his head back from his upcoming orgasm.

(m/n)'s back arched as he felt spurts of sperm shoot out of his stimulated penis, Akemi smiling down and kissing his neck. "Bare with me for a bit, (m/n)-chan." The blonde mumbled as he hugged the (h/c), effectively holding him down as he came inside his asshole, (m/n) clenching tighter at the sensation as he grappled the blonde's body for security.

His (s/c) body twitching as Akemi's unborn children spilled out of his bottom when the blonde pulled out. "No- no condom?" (m/n) mewled, his legs shaking and asshole twitching. "I'm so sorry, (m/n). I really wanted to pull out just now!"

Liar. Akemi had definitely wanted to defile his virginity properly. The (h/c) furrowed his eyebrows, his sanity slipping away as he pushed himself up shakily, although his legs couldn't even stretch properly. "Th-that's all, right? Can I leave now?" Too much dick. Too much cum for a day.

Tamura wanted to protest before Shikatani intervened. "I'm tired of only watching you, (m/n)-kun." The pretty male pushed him down gently as he sat on his stomach, his fingers trailing up (m/n)'s face, wiping away Tamura's cum. "I want my fill too."

"Hey hey! Get in line Shikatani! We agreed that I'd be next!" "I don't want his ass, Tamura." Shikatani shivered at the thought of (m/n)'s leaking hole with someone else's cum. But his front however, "I'd be using this for myself."

(m/n) couldn't even register properly before Shikatani slammed himself down on his half-hard spent cock. "Wh-wha?! Ah! A-angg ah!" The (h/c) could definitely audition for a hentai VA. His high-pitched moans and yelps was definitely a sweet tune to their ears. Yuri's ears especially.

"Touch! Touch me!" The pink-haired pulled on his hand, encouraging him to jerk off the second year. Shikatani was mewling as he rode the (h/c) like a fucking champ, bouncing up and down on his penis. (m/n)'s breathing had gotten heavier and his moans were ringing louder. His mind was definitely not in the right state as he mindlessly grabbed Yuri's dripping cock and jerking it off as well as he can. Tamura was cursing as he pulled on his other hand as well.

Now with two cocks over his head and Shikatani's beautiful body clenching down on him, it didn't take long for him to cum a second time. Nor for the other three cocks to spill all over his body, painting his chest and face streaks of milky white.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" (m/n) couldn't take this anymore. He grappled to crawl away from the futon, Itome had just finished shotgunning him seconds ago in his lap, fingering (m/n) and jerking him off at the same time at Akemi's request. It's too much for little ol' (m/n). They're crazy. They're sex maniacs.

"Hah! Where'd ya' think you're goin?" A hand roughly pulled on his ankle, dragging him back on the soiled mattress as Tamura excited laughter filled the air. "I finally get to bust my nut into you, senpai. Let's see if you're still tight after all this." "Wait wait wait-" The (h/c) couldn't even see the second year, he was on his hands and knees, his ass propped up with leashed choker still on his neck.

(m/n) squealed at the probing of his entrance for the nth time that day, the familiar silicone-shape of the male genitalia instantly shoved into his bottom, making the (h/c)'s gave his hands out as he plopped on the dirty mattress. "Fuck! You're clenching down on me so hard. Your asshole might just be your best feature other than your mouth, senpai!"

Tamura probed as he spread (m/n)'s buttcheeks apart, grinning down at his hole that was stuffed with his dick but still spilling cum from Akemi's round with him. The (h/c) was blabbering unintelligible noises, Tamura gripped the leash and pulled it back. "A-ack! Too-too much! Too much cock-" (m/n) dug his nails into Tamura's arms, he couldn't lie that the one with the nicest body here was definitely Tamura's as the (h/c) half sat on his cock while on his knees, the second year rutting into him, smacking their skin together as he pulled on the leash.

He felt like a dog. A bitch. Having a leash around his neck, his tongue panting out, drooling whatever saliva he has left and his eyes lulling back and forth with Tamura's thrusts. The second year wasn't wearing a condom too. The (h/c) could feel the wetness of his cock staining (m/n)'s ass while digging out Akemi's own cum.

"CUTIE CUTE CUTE!" Yuri made his way on front of (m/n) and instantly licked up a stripe up his chest, making the captain flinch. That damn piercing. He mewled as Yuri began to lick and suck on his nipples, instinctively tightening in on Tamura's dick. "Urmff! Tighter! Make it hurt senpai!" The second year began to pound up into him even harder as (m/n) yelled out in exasperation.

He just noticed something in Yuri's hands. Huh. What's that? (m/n) could barely see anything in the dark room. Had it passed sundown already? The (h/c) was about to call out for Akemi until he felt his cock shoved into something soft, velvety cushion.

"H-huh?"

He whimpered, scared of whatever was on his cock while Tamura was still fucking up into him from behind. Yuri cackled as he jacked the flashlight up and down on the (h/c)'s cock, leering at the crying face (m/n) was expressing. "P-please...have mercy..." The (h/c) was begging for them to slow down. It was no use asking them to end it but the least he could have was a moment of sanity.

"Sex is the best!" Yuri chanted as he pressed one of the buttons on the fleshlight, turning on its vibrate function as (m/n) screamed at the new sensation on his spent cock, the pink-haired male still pistoning it up and down on his penis. Tamura laughed at (m/n)'s sobbing as he went to suck on his neck, littering hickies all over his skin.

Yuri leaned forward to mush their tongues together, (m/n) completely bottoming out as he let Yuri violate his mouth with his stupid piercing. The two second years pressed (m/n) in between them, Tamura still fucking up into (m/n) although he had came inside, he still wanted to milk out more of himself into the (h/c) while Yuri rubbing his penis under (m/n)'s cock, slipping in between his thighs and his balls.

The (h/c) came again, into the fleshlight as he was making out with Yuri, humping him all the while Tamura cummed in the third year for the second time, stilling inside him as he bit down on his nape, leaving a mark for sure.

"Wow, your performance is really good, (m/n)!" He couldn't see where Akemi was but judging on Itome's moaning, he was probably doting on his boyfriend. "You being a volleyball player really helps with your stamina!" The blonde praised the (h/c) as he fucks himself into Itome, cooing into his crying boyfriend.

As Tamura pulled out, so much liquid instantly dripped out of his hole. (m/n) felt so disgusting, so filled, so satisfied with himself. Fuck, was he turning into one of them? He didn't protest when Yuri pushed him down onto the futon again.

"Hey Yuri-kun. He's had enough, don't you think?" Tamura quirked an eyebrow at the sight of a neon dildo in Yuri's hand. Yuri irked and yelled at Tamura. "Shut up! Stupid Tamura!" The former laughed as he leaned down onto the (h/c). "Sorry, senpai. Looks like you have to service him next."

The third year was too out of it. He didn't hear what Tamura said, only responding when Tamura leaned down to give him comforting kisses on his face as he whined for more. The second year laughed as he kissed deeply into the (h/c) while Yuri slipped himself onto (m/n)'s cock.

"Mmff! Mmmggh-..." (m/n)'s moans were muffled by Tamura's tongue, the latter only cupping his face to make out with him sloppily. Yuri on the other hand, was having the time of his life bouncing wildly on his hard cock, the (h/c) doesn't know how he himself was still hard. Maybe he was pent up all this time, and the Yaribu Club is doing him a favor letting him spill his cum in so many different ways.

Yuri clenched down on him, while rubbing himself all over with the neon vibrating dildo. When he saw, (m/n) wasn't focusing on him at all, he shoved the toy in between his legs, effectively drawing the (h/c) away from Tamura with a scream, a string of saliva still connecting their faces.

"Mmngg- FUCK FUCK!!" (m/n)'s eyes widened as he felt his puffy hole violated with the vibrating dildo, being shoved in and out of his ass, Yuri letting the tip linger on his rim. "I'm better at him using those things." Tamura kissed his tears. "You can come to me at anytime if you want to play again." The (h/c) sobbed into Tamura's hold, crying at Yuri's ruthless hold on him.

"(m/n). I wanna try your mouth, please." Shikatani pushed Tamura away, the latter scoffing at the third year as he went to find the first years. Were they all hiding? Tamura definitely made sure to lock the doors. The (h/c) was too tired to lift his head up but Shikatani who was kneeling beside (m/n)'s head, only slid his penis over his lips, still donning a lingerie. At this point, (m/n)'s naked body was so defiled with cum and hickies so Shikatani only went for his tongue instead.

The (h/c) lapped his tongue on Shikatani's underside, kissing it fervently as he sucked on the cock, he was definitely bigger than Shikatani. His breaths huffed on the dick in his face before he sucked some more, if it was possible he would have left hickies on it.

Sperm shot on his face and (m/n) didn't even notice when Yuri had lifted himself up from his cock, promptly finishing himself off on his face as Shikatani yelled at him for getting some on his dick. The (h/c) had finished inside Yuri, judging by his cum leaking down Yuri's legs but the dildo was still in him, vibrating lowly in his ass. (m/n) paid no mind to the fighting above him as he continued to kiss and lick Shikatani's cock, making him drip his load on (m/n)'s face. Who knew it would feel so good getting defiled by so many people at once?

(m/n) laid still, fucked out from all the dicks and his mind blank, his face lips wet with precum and Yuri still on top of him, leaning down to lick into his ear. His mind was blank, his puffy eyes foggy with post-nut syndrome. Was this what sex had felt like all this time?

He didn't notice the yelling match behind him as Yuri was pulled off of him and another was pushed on top of him before he propped himself up with his arms. "I-I'm sorry, senpai." (m/n) squinted his eyes, trying to recognise who was on top of him.

"Kashima..."

"These suckers were hiding all this time! Everyone has to join in." Tamura yelled at the still fully clothed Kashima, who had been hiding with Toono behind the couches. A screaming Toono could be heard as Yuri pulled him up. Akemi glared while smiling at the first years. "Now now. Everyone had their turns with (m/n) except for Toono and Kashima. It's either you fuck him or we'll have our way with you!" The blonde stated threateningly.

(m/n) was still staring at at Kashima who smiled apologetically at him. "Senpai, you've done a lot today." Kashima was still clean and in his school uniform unlike the captain, who was stark naked and body smothered with the three liquids; sweat, saliva and cum. The first year reached out and wiped away the wetness from his face while looking into (e/c) adoringly.

"I don't think he can handle anymore, Akemi-senpai." Kashima looked to the blonde, who was hugging Itome, on the other side of the room. "Really? What a pity. It would've been a great achievement for a virgin to fuck all the members on their first time." Akemi looked to Itome, who refused to have sex with the (h/c).

"N-No. I still wanna-" (m/n) mewled as he hugged Kashima. He panted as he rubbed his cheek against the first year. "I...I wanna do it with you." Kashima's painful erection during the entire endeavour couldn't be anymore obvious now. His pants straining against his bulge which was pressed against the (h/c)'s crotch.

"(m/n)..." Kashima whispered as he kissed the (h/c), the latter spilling more moans as he pressed his tongue sloppily against the first year's lips. The blue-haired male endulged in the third year, opening his mouth as he quickly undressed himself.

Toono was shaking, he was caught by Yuri, quickly after Tamura had snatched Kashima. He felt guilty, when he brought (m/n) here he knew there was going to be some action but he didn't expect for them to immediately pounce on the (h/c), pushing him to the floor and tearing off his clothes even though (m/n) had somewhat agree to this. Will he have to go through this as well if he still has his virginity by the end lf the month?

There was the thought of Akemi however, who seemed to be obsessed with the (h/c), brutally prepping him and immediately soiling (m/n)'s virginity without a second thought. The others follow suit, having their way with him one way or another, and Toono felt so responsible for the current fucked out state of the third year. He had came here because Toono begged the (h/c) after all.

"K-Kashima?!" He hadn't expect Kashima to indulge into all of this, maybe he should've based on the words of aspiration leaning into adoration of the (h/c) from the blue-haired male.

Kashima gently pulled up the (h/c) all while pressing his lips onto the latter while settling him into his lap. He unbuckled his pants as he licked ferverently on the roof of (m/n)'s tongue, their teeth clashing together.

His fingers went low, tracing down the (h/c) muscly thighs, who was reknowned as a volleyball player fyi, and down on the underside of his balls, reaching into his delicate hole. An index finger slipped in, testing the waters as (m/n) whimpered into his mouth.

Kashima opened his eyes to see (m/n) cutely perched on his lap, in his eyes, with the other members all looking at them in the background. Fuck, he felt like he was an adult star filming a porno.

His finger wiggled inside, feeling cum gushed all over (m/n)'s rim, spilling out and dripping onto floor. The (h/c)'s body twitched at the sensation, pulling away from Kashima to rest his head on the first year's shoulders. "Haa...haa..." He panted heavily, his eyes pressed close as Kashima began to fish out the remaining sperm that was spilled deep inside the (h/c).

"You took so much, (m/n)." Kashima whispered, in awe or teasingly, he couldn't tell. "Such a good boy." The (h/c)'s cock twitched at the compliment, Kashima taking note of it as he kissed the shell of his ear. "You're such a good sport, aren't you?" He was definitely teasing the third year, peppering more kisses down his neck as (m/n) nodded in response.

"I'm glad you're okay with this." Kashima pulled his finger out, satisfied with the small pool under his lap as he hoisted (m/n) up properly, letting his now exposed dick slide between the (h/c)'s asscheeks.

(m/n) was huffing and shivering at the teasing. He was used to the others pummelling straight into his hole. "I-I'm okay with it. It's fun?" Kashima laughed at his response as he kissed (m/n)'s cheek. "If you say so."

Suddenly, Kashima humped the (h/c), creating friction between the base of his cock with (m/n)'s ass. The third year cried out, expecting the former to push inside already but Kashima made no move to do so, only grunting and rubbing his dick in between his ass, feeling precum slide down all over the base of his penis and (m/n)'s ass.

"Put it in. Please just put it in already." The third year begged Kashima, pressing down his trimmed nails into Kashima's shoulder blades. His (e/c) eyes glossy to spill more tears of pleasure as he bit his bottom lip harshly.

"I know, I know but I gotta get it wet first." He cooed into the (h/c), all the while playing with the mound of flesh in his hands, fuck (m/n) always had such a great ass, possibly due to the intense sport he's active in.

After a while and some snarky comments from Tamura, Kashima lifted the (h/c)'s thighs shakily, and gently guided his tip to kiss (m/n)'s hole. Slowly, he pushed (m/n) down onto his dick, his puckered anus clenching and unclenching every time and inch passed through and Kashima didn't stop until the whole base was in.

"So good." Kashima whispered as he pecked the shivering (h/c). Suddenly, he gripped (m/n) by his ass and brought him up and down his cock. The (h/c) whining loudly as he wrapped his arms around the first year as he threw his head back, relishing in the pleasure as he gets fucked at a nice pace.

Kashima thrusted his hips up at the same time as (m/n) bouncing on his own, they leaned in and shoved their tongues against each other, pressing their chests as Kashima scratched his nails into (m/n)'s ass. He could feel someone pulling his legs apart, to give the others a view. How fucking perverted can the Yaribu be?

Toono was gawking at the whole scenario, (m/n) riding his friend, Kashima who seemed to be more or less open to the whole idea. The other members were having fun just watching the whole thing especially Yuri and Akemi. And what the hell Kashima! Weren't they supposed to pretend to be boyfriends anyways??

Tamura seemed to read his thoughts as he pulled Toono by his arm. "Your boyfriend looks to be having a lot of fun. Sounds like you can do it too, can't ya?" Toono felt dread as Tamura dragged him to the center and tossed him in front of the two that were fucking like rabbits.

"Toono- mmngg-!" Kashima was cut off as he felt (m/n) tightening around him. The (h/c) tossed his head back, his own untouched penis shooting watered down cum on Kashima's chest. "Annh ah haa..." The first year stopped his actions, feeling the wetness on his abdomen. Kashima had just realised the look on Toono, their whole facade of them fake dating was hanging on by a thread. (m/n) was confused on why he stopped.

The (h/c) glanced back to see the brunette who had brought him here, who indirectly brought him to this cursed world of pleasure through his pity. He looked back to Kashima and figured out there was more to them than it looks. He pulled away from Kashima and lifted himself up, hearing a popped wet noise and noted that Kashima hadn't cum yet.

"Toono." He motioned Toono to cum over here and the latter obliged, under the watchful gaze of the club president. The brunette crawled closer and hesitantly kneeled on the futon.

"Yes, (m/n)-senpai?"

(m/n) stared at Toono before leaning in to kiss him, the brunette frozen at the act of the gentle press, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

After a second, the (h/c) pulled away, his face full of lust and debauchery as he gazed into Toono's green eyes. Nothing was said between them before Akemi clasped his hands on Toono's shoulders. "It's your turn, Toono!" "H-Huh?!" "All of us have done it, with the exception of my cute boyfriend, and the only one is you!"

"N-NO PLEASE! I STILL WANT TO KEEP MY VIRGINITY-" "You don't have to give your virginity." They turned to Shikatani who was playing around with a dildo near his crotch. "You can just let (m/n) give you...head." Akemi gleamed. "That settles it!"

Immediately, Toono's pants were ripped off and he was horrified at the speed of the Yaribu members. (m/n) was maneuvered onto his hands and knees as he layed his face near the first year's crotch. Kashima was still hesitant behind them, his dick still hard albeit getting colder by the moment.

"Are...are you both okay with this?" Kashima looked to be mixed in thoughts, both of his crushes layed bare before him and he wasn't sure to proceed with Toono's hesitation, although it usually pains him to see with another, he would made an exception for (m/n) for he adore the (h/c) just as much.

"It's either you getting a blowjob or Yuri gets to fuck you." Akemi whispered into Toono's ears to which the latter screamed at the thought. "Yes yes! I'm okay with it- aahnggh!" He was cut off as (m/n) licked at his underwear, where his penis was tucked in and immediately he felt Akemi tugging it off.

The (h/c) licked a stripe up the virgin's cock, suckling at the tip, hearing the cracked moans from Toono. Maybe he was becoming one of them, a slutty stupid sex-addicted maniac. He could feel Kashima coming up behind him and hugging his back.

Kashima looked to Toono, who was drooling and his hips shuddering, the latter noticing the staring just nodded before throwing his head back to let out another quivered moan.

Receiving the green light, Kashima immediately slipped his hands down (m/n)'s bottom, and pushed himself inside, eager to chase his lost release previously. The (h/c) choked down at the surprise and Toono yelped at the sudden constriction on his penis.

The sounds of skin slapping skin couldn't be more obvious now that Kashima's pace turned rougher, he couldn't help but gaze at (m/n)'s pounding ass against his crotch and Toono's flushed face, this was heaven for him. Every time Kashima pushed forward, (m/n) was forcibly deepthroated onto Toono, his cock reaching down his throat and the (h/c) felt his anus fluttering down Kashima.

The blue-haired male panted as he delved himself inside (m/n) further, his eyes locked onto Toono's widened ones. The brunette couldn't contain himself, his hands grasping at (h/c) hair, clutching at the roots every time his tongue swirled around the veins of his base.

Kashima moaned loudly as he shoved his hips deep into (m/n)'s ass, cumming deep inside the (h/c) who gasped on Toono's cock, his cheeks full. Toono came a second later, mewlimg as he pulled out of (m/n)'s mouth halfway through, spraying his cum on the third year's face. The (h/c) couldn't cum anymore. Though, he felt Kashima's hand stroke his genital as he attempted to finish the third year but all he could muster was a small pool of liquid.

(m/n) fell on the thin futon on his side, his chest taking in deep breaths as he closed his eyes shut. He could hear the Yaribu members surrounding him, Akemi praising Toono and Kashima before he knelt beside the (h/c).

"You should join our club, (m/n)-chan. You'd make an excellent bitch for our school!" He spoke as he caressed the (h/c)'s cheek, his blue eyes peering down with a glint (m/n) couldn't recognise.

All (m/n) could mumble out was a "No.", before promptly passing out in the room. Immediately pulled into a world of sleep and he would wake up in Akemi's room the next day, his body clean and sore.

"(m/n). I've heard you went to Yaribu's gangbang..." A voice called out to him, (m/n) looked behind him and saw his vice-captain, Daisuke Yuichi, with a frown on his face, standing under the door ledge of his classroom.

The (h/c) groaned as he palmed himself in the forehead, standing up to clean his desk, he had gazed outside his windows after class ended. A much needed afterthought recollected in his brain.

Three days had passed and true to Toono's promise, the Yaribu club no longer harassed the volleyball captain, only chirping in an offer to fuck or two but none went as far as previous attempts. Toono wouldn't look him in the eye anymore while Kashima was more than happy to interact with him whenever they run into each other.

Akemi acted a bit odd with him since then, his eyes lingering on the (h/c) a second longer than it should, Itome no longer wanting to acknowledge (m/n) however. Shikatani and Yuri treated him like usual and Tamura with his constant insults. Like the news of his virginity spreading, him joining the Yaribu on a Wednesday evening also sparked rumours of his cherry popped amongst most of the student body.

Daisuke had always been wary of the Yaribu Club, never liking their inappropriate activities nor the sexual innuendos they brought about. So when his precious captain was particularly targeted, it made him more frustrated nonetheless.

"It wasn't as bad. I did it just so they would get off my back." (m/n) hauled his bag, exiting his class with Daisuke in tow to the direction of their gym for their next practice.

"If you had come to me, I could've done it better than them."

(m/n) paused in his tracks, looking back at his vice-captain, whose gaze was fixated on the floor. His mouth moved to speak but pursed into a smile. "That wasn't the point and..." Black eyes looked up into (e/c).

"I'm sure you would have."

Daisuke was silent before he cracked out a chuckle as he jogged towards the (h/c), wrapping and arm around the latter's shoulders. (m/n) smiled at the thought of Daisuke and the Yaribu Club.

Maybe he should visit them once in a while.

[END SCENE].

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

Well that took me four days, haha. I'm new here and I can't believe this weird thing is my debut fic💀. I hope you guys weren't bored halfway through and please refer to me as Ouka. I'd love to be friends and Daisuke would feature more on separate fics more frequently!

I will edit the scenes especially the start and the end because they felt kinda wonky and awkward to me, especially Toono's part because it was ooc imo. All respectful criticism is appreciated and do leave a comment! I would love to hear your words on this blasphemy.

I apologise for the usage of _-san, _-chan, _-senpai and the likes. After watching the anime, to gain their sense of character, I couldn't help but feel it made more sense to read (?) although the usage is not constant (eg Daisuke not calling reader with san) but i will edit it!

2K notes · View notes

help-itrappedmyself · 3 months

Text

Danny Punches a Clown part 2 I guess

shoutout to @that-random-fangirl

Masterpost

The batmobile pulls into the batcave as usual once they’re done dealing with the Joker’s hostage situation, but no one is celebrating at a job well done tonight. Because while the Joker is back in Arkham, for now, it wasn’t one of them that stopped him. While the rest of them dealt with the goons downstairs, Batman went up to where the Joker was supposed to be hiding out with the kids, only to find him on the floor with a growing bruise on his face. The kids were nowhere to be seen.

So, Batman sweeped the room, making note of a video that was still recording on the computer. Probably a taunt for him that the Joker never got to release. He pulled all the files from the computer and brought them with him when he left.

The police arrived, the civilians were taken care of, but none of them had any idea what happened in the room the Joker was in. Apparently none of them heard anything, despite the fact the Joker had a gun with him no shots were fired. And none of them knew what happened to the kids.

So the family gathered around the batcomputer to try and find out what had happened. They rewound the video back to the beginning, hoping to at least find out if the kids were okay.

The video opened to the Joker being his usual self, holding his gun, looking like he hadn’t yet gotten punched in the face.

“ Bats! Wonderful to see me isn’t it? I know it's been too long, and I’ve got some presents for you!” Joker turns the camera to show three kids, two no older than six, both blonde and terrified, and one that could be a teenager, probably around twelve to thirteen with black hair and looking bored. The camera swings back to the Joker after a moment. “ Of course, I have a bunch of adults too, but these little kiddos are just for you! I have such plans for them bats!”

“Hey, crazy clown?” They hear, coming from one of the children. Joker stops ranting to look past the computer, probably at the kid who’s speaking and the bats all look at each other in disbelief.“ Look, I’m sure you have some sort of reason for all this hostage-taking and gun-waving, probably even for dressing like that.”

“ Oh, this kid is insane.” Tim mutters.

“ However, I already have one fruitloop in my life and that is more than enough for me, so I’m going to have to leave now.”

The Joker starts laughing, he bends over and wraps his arms around his stomach laughing his normal cackle that has most of the room cringing. They watch as the child, the older one, walks right up to the Joker, who is still laughing, and punches him in the face.

They watch in silence as the Joker falls limp to the floor. Jason whistles. Then the boy turns more toward the camera, but really towards the children as he starts talking to them and they see him fully for the first time. Black hair, blue eyes, looks exhausted and he just punched the Joker in the face. The kids look amongst each other for a moment, all thinking the same thing, before turning back to the screen to see the boy, this tiny boy who called the Joker ‘crazy clown’ and punched him in the face helping the other kids escape out the window.

“ Bruce, no.” Dick mutters. “ We don’t even know who this kid is.”

“ This kid just knocked out the Joker in one punch, if Bruce doesn’t nab him, I will.” Jason states.

Everything devolves into arguing from there, all the kids shouting amongst themselves arguing either for or against the adoption of the kid. It goes on for a while before Bruce speaks up.

“ Let’s just find the kid first.” Bruce says, He’s already pulled up facial recognition and is chatting with Oracle about the CCTV footage by the warehouse. “ All of you go get some rest, I’m going to go see if I can track him.”

“ Hey! If you’re going back out, we’re going back out!” Dick complains. “ We’re concerned about the kid too.”

Bruce starts to argue with him, but is cut off by the sound of motorcycles as Jason and Tim start to head back out, already talking to Oracle about where to start. Dick heads out after them and Damian goes to sit in the batmobile, waiting. Bruce heaves a sigh before climbing in after him.

“ Okay, Oracle what do we have?” Batman asks.

“ I was able to track him into an alley, but nothing after that.”

Now with part 3!

#dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #batman #danny phantom #my writing #I have no idea where this is going really #it has no ending #just middle ideas #dp x dc

2K notes · View notes

keeplcving · 3 months

Text

art deco.

(young president!coriolanus x young!f!plinth!reader)

summary: the president takes notice of Sejanus’ much younger sister, at one of his galas, and cannot let her go.

cw: plinth!reader, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, sejanus lives (and is still friends with coryo), age-gap (coryo is 28, reader is are 18), strabo is a shitty father, sweet!coryo (but only to you), heavy smut, creampie, soft sex, pet names (little one, little dove, darling, etc), cuddling, lmk if i missed anything!

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the Presidential Mansion, a stark contrast to the still-setting sun outside. Your arm is tightly linked with your brother, Sejanus’ arm, as you make your way to the table. You don’t know anyone at this event, not really.

You’re far too young, the next youngest people at the gala are brother’s age, and even still, Sej is 10 years older than you. It makes you feel queasy, knowing most of these men in attendance are nearly old enough to be your father, and they are all staring at you.

Staring at you like you’re a fine piece of meat, and they’re starving for a taste.

You sit down next to your brother, and quickly survey the other guests seated at your table. Clemensia Dovecoat, Festus Creed, Livia Cardew, Persephone Price. All your brother’s age, no one younger. You want to shrink back into your seat, become invisible.

You have no idea why your brother invited you to attend this Gala with him, but you have a feeling it was not with the purest intentions. As you graduated from the Academy, both your parents and your brother were pushing for you to find a suitor, to further better the Plinth name. Frankly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give a damn, you were far more worried about being successful at the University to find a husband.

“Hello.” A familiar, yet unfamiliar voice breaks you from your reverie. Coriolanus Snow, or should I say President Snow, you think. You couldn’t lie to yourself, he was a very attractive man. Having been very young when your brother began bringing him around to your family’s manor, you only had some vague memories of Coriolanus, however, he has been a close friend to Sejanus, so he’s been around your vicinity for years.

I wouldn’t mind marrying him, your thoughts betray every fiber of your being, who you are. You are an independent woman, you don’t need a man, you need to do well at the University, and score a job. Not fawn over the President of Panem. Oh well, you think, he wouldn’t want anything to do with someone as young as me.

“Hello, Coriolanus.” Your brother greets him warmly, then lightly touching your arm, “I don’t know if you remember my sister, Y/N, but I’ve invited her as my guest tonight.”

“Hello, Mister President.” You say, wanting to roll your eyes at the pomposity of the statement you just spoke. You quickly scanned Coriolanus, and you were not disappointed. Blonde hair slicked back, beautiful blue eyes, a tight crimson suit that perfectly accented the muscular frame you were sure was underneath it.

“No need for the formalities, Ms. Plinth, just call me Coryo.” He responds, giving you (and your body) a quick glance in return. You want to blush at his actions, but you restrain yourself.

“Then call me Y/N, Coryo, Ms. Plinth is much too formal for me.” You bite back, cracking him a smile. He returns it, before turning to your brother.

“Mind if I borrow your sister for a dance, Sej?” He asks your brother, missing the wicked glare that Livia sends you. You’re not sure why she’s upset with you. You knew the President was a single man, which was a rarity in the politicians in Panem. But, you’re no where near his age range. He wouldn’t want you like that, right? He would want someone like Livia, perfect and his age.

“Of course not, thank you for being so kind to her. She’s a little overwhelmed with the gala, as is to be expected. She’s never been to one this formal before.” Sejanus tells Coryo, and you smile weakly, standing up, wobbling slightly in the heels that were a little too high for you.

Coriolanus rounds the table, grasping your hand lightly in his much larger one, leading you to the dance floor in the center of the room. He circles his arms around your waist easily, and you reach up to circle yours around his neck. He begins swaying you gently in time with the music before opening his mouth to speak.

“I don’t remember Sejanus mentioning that he had such a beautiful sister.” He whispers to you, leaning his head down so you could hear his words. He was well over a half a foot taller than you, even with you in your heels. That thought was dizzying.

You blush in response to his words, ducking your head. But you don’t stay that way for any more than a moment, as he brings two of his fingers under your chin, before lifting your chin up, to meet his gaze. “I mean it, dove. You’re simply stunning.”

The flattery was almost too sickly sweet, but you relished in it. “Thank you, Coryo.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, you had never been in a situation like this. Sure, the boys from the Academy thought you were pretty, but they were nothing compared to the President of Panem.

“You are very welcome, darling. Tell me, how old are you? I cannot remember your dear brother ever mentioning your age.” There it is, you thoughts begin ruining the moment, he will no longer be interested in you once he finds out you are so young.

“I just turned eighteen, I am set to become a student at the University in the fall.” You look into his eyes, expecting to see something, a wavering of interest, anything. But instead, you see nothing.

“I see.” Is all he says, continuing to sway to the music, holding you. His grip tightens lightly, as more people make their way to the dance floor, like he doesn’t want to lose you to someone else, some other man. Like anyone would dare attempt to snatch you away from the President of all people.

“I was expecting you to be a bit older,” He continues, giving you another look, throughly analyzing every part of your body, “Especially when Strabo mentioned to me a potential love match in his darling daughter.”

It’s like a bomb has gone off, shattering your world around you. Of course he wasn’t really interested in you, foolish girl, you think. It was set up, so you could finally find the suitable husband your father had been discussing since it had been deemed socially acceptable to do so.

“A potential… what?” You spat out, not harshly, just in surprise. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Love match, darling. But, you may be just a bit too young for me.” He tells you, shattering your heart just a bit. You knew he was too old for you, no matter the attraction you felt for him. Not to mention that your father was simply trying to better the position of the family name by attempting to marrying you off to him.

You weren’t sure what to feel. You wanted Coriolanus, in ways a woman of your social standing shouldn’t. Especially given the age difference that was present between the two of you, however, there was no denying his pure masculine beauty. There was still that thought in the back of your mind that by engaging yourself with Coriolanus, you would be pleasing your father and his wishes for you. In this moment, you knew everything you felt about Coryo would override the disdain you had for pleasing your father.

“I’m not too young.” You almost whine back at him, a light pout forming on your lips as you stare into his impossibly blue eyes. You didn’t want him to see you as too young, you wanted him to see you as just another woman. Who cares that he was nearly ten years older than you?

“Is that so, princess?” He chastises you jokingly, before continuing, “You said you were eighteen, right?” He waits for you to nod, then resumes, “Well, do the arithmetic, little one. If I am twenty eight, and you are eighteen, that leaves us with a ten year difference.”

“I don’t care about that Coryo.” You find yourself frustrated. You wanted him, especially after all of the praise he had given you. Right now, in this moment, the ten years between the two of you didn’t matter. “I find myself rather attracted to you.” You tell him, honestly.

“Is that so, little one?” He asks, smirking at your words. He knew he could mold you into the perfect little wife, so young, so innocent still, unlike the women his age, who already knew what they wanted and simply wanted him for the money and glory that came along with marrying the President.

“Yes, please. I want you. My father was right, about the potential love match. Please, don’t leave me to marry some other man that isn’t twice the man that you are. I know I am young, but that doesn’t matter. I’m old enough to know what I want. Please, Coryo.”

You beg him, not sure exactly why you wanted him so bad. You had just really met him after all. But he was so attractive, so powerful. Something about him enticed you, and you didn’t want to let it go before anything could even potentially happen, before you could see where it progressed between the two of you.

“If you’re so sure, little one. However, this is a conversation we should have somewhere more private, away from prying eyes.” He tells you, raising your hopes ever so slightly. He wasn’t outwardly telling you no, and that you were absolutely too young for him.

Silently, he seizes swaying instead turning you so that you are pressed tightly to his side, one arm firmly grasped around your back, the other arm falling to his side as he led you out the doors to the ballroom, further into the Mansion, and into what you could only assume was his bedroom, gently closing and locking the door behind him, not unnoticed by you.

He is silent for a moment, before speaking, “You mentioned other men. You are going to be mine, little dove. No other men matter to you. I’ve been aware of your age this whole night, and your father and I have been discussing this chance meeting between us for some time now.”

You want to feel disappointed, or disgusted. Your father and Coriolanus, going behind your back, planning your future without a say from you. Planning when you would meet, when would be the right time. You had so many thoughts swirling in your head, it was overwhelming.

“How. Long.” You spat out at him, visibly upset. You wanted him, sure. But if he had been going behind your back, and truly knew of you well before you knew of him, you weren’t as sure. It felt almost predatory, knowing you were barely legal.

“Just over a year, darling.” His words made you want to vomit. Before you were legal. Your father, planning a marriage to a man ten years your senior, when you weren’t even legally able to be married, or have intercourse. You started to sway on your feet, feeling faint. You couldn’t believe it.

Coriolanus reached out a strong arm, steadying you, before grasping your hand and pulling you to sit on the edge of the bed. With you sitting, and he standing, the height difference became even more pronounced. You had to crane your neck to meet his eyes, even when you did not want to.

“A year.” You started, thinking for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. “My father has been meeting with you for a year, to discuss marriage. When I wasn’t even legal!” You yelled at him from your seated position, not feeling stable enough to attempt standing.

“I know it’s wrong, little one. And I am sorry. I only learned of you not being eighteen last night. This entire time, up until last night, I thought you were already eighteen, or older. Your father never mentioned your exact birthday, only that you were of marriage age.”

Your rage for Coriolanus dissipated, the only anger that remained was for your father. You couldn’t take it out on Coryo, who didn’t know you were underage for most of the planning, not until it didn’t matter. He was just as innocent as you.

“It’s alright.” You kept your statement concise, not sure what else to say, without bursting out into tears. You could already feel them welling in your eyes, and you begged them not to fall.

The tears didn’t do unnoticed by Coriolanus, who looks taken aback at the thought of you crying. “Don’t cry, little one. It’s alright, I assure you. I am going to give you some space, and some time alone. You are to wait here, however. I am not forcing you, but I would prefer we continue this conversation when you are ready.”

He leans down, and presses a small kiss against the crown of your head gently before making his way toward the door, grabbing the knob.

“Wait,” You start, tears starting to fall at the thought of him leaving you alone. “Stay, please.” You beg.

“Sweetheart, I can’t. I need to give you space to think. I don’t want to force this upon you.” He tells you honestly, turning the knob.

“But why?” You state, petulant like a child. The child that you still practically are. “Just stay here, with me. I’ve already made up my mind.” You say, standing back up onto your feet, making the few steps to the door, grasping his upper arm gently.

“I can’t.” He says simply, not moving. He looks almost conflicted on right or wrong in this moment. Your lip begins to wobble, as you think about him leaving you.

“But why, Coryo? I already made up my mind. My father may have hid the truth about my age from you, but I want you. Please.” You plead with him, willing him to stay in this room with you.

“I’m way too old for you, my love.” Coriolanus stops turning the knob, though. Standing, waiting for you to speak again. He had to at least partially hear you out, and he wanted to know your rationale.

“And what if I don’t care if you are far too old for me?” It was your last feeble attempt at getting him to stay. If he wanted to stay, it was up to him now. You weren’t going to plead with him, he was a grown man.

“I can see how much you would prefer it if I stay.” He says with a sigh, pulling you into his arms, his warm embrace surrounding you with a feeling you had never acted upon before.

“Coryo,” You whisper, “I want you. I want you so bad.” His eyes widen in surprise at your words, confused on what exactly you meant by wanting him.

“What do you mean, little one?” He doesn’t get the chance to do anything but whisper back that sentence before you were leaning up on your tiptoes, and your lips pressed against his, hard. He doesn’t fight you, quickly kissing back.

He adjusts you so that your back is up against the door, and your fronts are pressed together tightly, without breaking the kiss. He runs his hand along the curves of your waist, before bringing his hands to cup your ass lightly. You let out a gasp, and he uses that to his advantage and slips his tongue into your mouth, tongues tangling.

He then drops his hands to below your knees, sweeping you into his arms, and carrying you back to the bed. He disconnects the kiss, with a whine falling from your lips, lightly setting you down on the bed.

“Are you sure, little dove? I can stop if you aren’t sure.” You appreciated his concern in this moment, but all you wanted was him. You vocalized that to him, and he smiled. He pulled you, so that your feet were dangling off the edge of the bed, where he was still standing. Getting down on his knees at your feet, he gently unbuckled the heel, and removed it from your foot, one foot at a time. As he removed the shoe, he ran a hand over the soft skin, before pressing a kiss to the sole of your foot.

He kissed his way up your legs, up to your thighs, being met with the skirt of your dress. He flipped the skirt up, over your hips, and met your eyes again as his hands made their way to the edge of your underwear.

“Still alright, little one?” He asked, thumbs in the band of the underwear, waiting for permission to pull them down. You nodded at him, with a weak grin. Coriolanus smiled back at you, before pulling the panties down your legs, over your ankles.

He spread your legs, so that your wet heat was visible to him. He grinned, before leaning down and licking a teasing stripe up your pussy, You moaned lewdly, legs closing around his head, locking him in place. He continued his broad licks, eventually moving to circle your clit until you were twitching. He stuck his tongue inside of your hole a few times, and that was enough. You gushed around his tongue, quickly becoming overstimulated and pushing his head away.

As he brought his head out from between your thighs, you noticed his face was covered in your juices, and you laughed. He cracked a smile at you, allowing you to breathe for a few moments together. He gently helped you to your feet, to your confusion for a moment, until he spun you so that he could unzip your dress.

Once you were fully bared to him, dress gently placed on a chair in the corner, he began to undress for you. The suit jacket first, then the button up, revealing his pale yet well formed chest that had you licking your lips in anticipation. His shoes were toed off, and socks removed too. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly before removing his slacks and boxers, cock springing up, very obviously hard, the tip nearly purple as he looked at you.

You felt intimidated. You were a virgin, and his cock was so long, and so thick. You knew it was going to hurt, and you hoped he wouldn’t let it hurt you too bad.

“Coryo,” You whispered, “I’m a virgin.” He stopped, and looked you directly in the eyes.

“That’s alright, little one. I’ll be careful, so so gentle. I promise.” He tells you earnestly, and you smile at him, nodding. You trusted him, he had never lied to you before, not willingly.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, before climbing on top of you, his strong forearms next to your head. He grabbed his cock, positioning it with your hole, before gently beginning to push in.

You flinched at the intrusion, body wincing at the pain from his cock splitting you open. Tears sprung back into your eyes, and he stopped pushing in, giving you a moment to adjust. He kissed you, making out lightly for a moment.

“You can keep going.” You said, breaking the kiss. You hissed as he kept pushing, but eventually, he was fully sheathed inside of you, and the sting had dulled down to a pressure inside of you. You looked down, and you could see a faint outline of his cock on your stomach and you smirked.

“Look, darling.” You directed him to where you were looking and he smirked back at you.

“Look at you, little one. Your body is taking me so beautifully.” He responded beginning slow, thrusts in and out, keeping tempo.

“Please, Coryo. More!” You begged him, and he began thrusting faster, pressing into a spot inside of you that made you see stars. You moaned loudly at that feeling, his cock slamming into it every time he thrust back in. You couldn’t stop letting out little noises of pleasure, it felt too good. He let out little grunts too, praising you for taking him so well, being such a good little girl.

“Rub your clit for me, darling.” He directed you, breathing becoming heavier, thrusts more erratic. You could tell he was close, but you wanted to orgasm with him. You rubbed your clit harshly, moaning, and tightening around his cock.

“I’m so close!” You cried out, circling faster as he continued to pound in and out of you.

“As am I, little one.” He grunted back. “Come for me, darling. I’ll come for you.”

You allowed yourself to come, soaking his cock with his juices, and he spurted deep inside of you. He groaned as he pulled out, immediately missing the tight warmth of your cunt.

“You did fantastic, love.” He tells you, falling nearly on top of you, worn from the excursion. You gently scratch his scalp with your fingers, soothing him.

“I should be telling you that,” You laugh, continuing to massage his head.

“You are mine now, darling.” He grunts, completely blissed out, resting his head on your chest. “Age does not matter to me, little one.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.” You rolled your eyes, smiling at him. “I am to be yours, forever.”

“Mine.” He agrees. You don’t say anything back, basking in the afterglow. After tonight, you know that your future plans have shifted, and you couldn’t find it in you to care. You still had that independent woman in you, but now, with a powerful man by your side. You’d found yourself a wonderful man in the President of Panem, and you didn’t plan on letting him go.

©keeplcving 2024. please let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests! :)

#coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n

1K notes · View notes

cosmosis · 11 months

Text

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks.

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway.

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you.

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator...

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk.

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer.

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such.

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined.

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different.

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her.

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment.

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger.

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face.

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails.

And finally, he answers.

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat.

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning.

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder.

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary.

But, you don’t.

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile.

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms.

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting.

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk.

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever.

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth.

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp.

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest.

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead.

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief.

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla.

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.”

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara spider man #spider man #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #lyla #atsv lyla #lyla across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #x reader #reader insert #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

3K notes · View notes

maysileeewrites · 5 months

Text

18+ content; mdni!

Thinking about husband!Coriolanus barely being able to contain the anger and jealousy coursing through him when he sees you flirting with another man during an evening gala in the Capitol.

You’re laughing, your whole face lighting up, your hand touching the other man’s shoulder and Coriolanus is surprised that he hasn’t broken the champagne flute in his hand, seeing how his grip on the fragile glass is so tight.

Oh, the things he’ll do later, to punish you. You on your knees in front of him, his hands fisted in your hair, your eyes filled with tears and him fucking your mouth relentlessly-

Suddenly, he sees the other man lean in closer towards you, placing one hand on your arm.

Coriolanus has had enough. He carelessly places the champagne flute on a table, before walking over to you, settling his hands on your waist, his grip on you so tight that he knows it’ll leave brusises.

Good, he thinks, smirking to himself. It will leave a reminder for you - a reminder of who you truly belong to.

“There you are, darling”, he says, forcing a smile onto his face, before placing a deliberate kiss on your neck - a place he’d normally suck and bruise, just to drive you crazy, leaving pretty purple marks.

He smiles when he can feel you shivering, pressing himself even closer to you.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, darling”, he says, completely ignoring the other man staring at you both with a confused expression.

You gasp when Coriolanus suddenly leans forward, his lips brushing over your skin, before whispering in your ear: “I told you what would happen if I’d see you flirting with another man. Now behave and be a good girl.”

You turn your head so that you’re looking right at the fire in his blue eyes, your lips so close to his that they nearly touch.

“Or what … are you going to punish me, President Snow?”, you whisper, placing a delicate, chaste kiss on his lips.

You feel his grip on your waist tightening even more, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. You see him biting down hard on his lips, probably trying to hold back a groan.

You smile, satisfied, when his eyes find yours again. Two can play this game, you think, reaching up to push a stray blond curl from his forehead.

But then you shiver when you see Coriolanus smile back at you - a promise. A threat.

“I’m sorry”, he tells the handsome man - his name already forgotten to you, you think it’s somewhere along the lines of Alexander or Adrian - you’re pretty sure it started with an A; though you’re not entirely sure, but you also don’t really care -. „But my wife and I need a moment.”

Then, he walks away, guiding you along with him.

The next thing you know, you’re being pushed into an empty bathroom, your back hitting the door, Coriolanus’s mouth already on yours, his hand already finding its way under the skirt of your dress before the door has even closed properly behind you.

He groans, breaking the kiss and burying his head in the crook of your neck when his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your panties, already soaked through with your arousal. You can’t help but shiver when his hand cups your cunt, his other hand settling on your waist with a bruising, harsh grip.

„Look at you“, he says, his voice rough and coarse, barely more than a strained whisper, „already dripping down my fingers, even though I barely touched you - or is that all for him?“

His left hand moves up from your waist to your face then, forcefully cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. „Tell me“, he demands, his blues finding yours - a fire in them that will burn you down until you’re nothing more than a withering pile of ashes.

But then, you’ve always liked playing with fire, living for the thrill of it.

Still, you quickly shake your head, trying to reach for Coriolanus with one hand, but Coriolanus moves faster than you, his hand leaving your cheek, seizing your hands in his and pinning them in place above your head.

„No - Coryo - I“, you try to say, but then he’s roughly yanking down your panties - you think you hear the thin material tear - forcefully pushing two fingers inside you.

You gasp, clenching around him, and Coriolanus groans.

„Fuck, Coryo - I - I don’t even know him - I - fuck“, you stumble, trying to form a coherent sentence while Coriolanus pumps his fingers in and out of at an unrelenting pace, his blue eyes never leaving yours. „I - he just came up to me and started talking to me and I-“, the rest of your words gets swallowed by the loud, whiny moan that leaves you when Coriolanus adds a third finger, pushing his hips against yours.

Your back aches from how hard and uncomfortably its pressed against the door, but you don’t care - the only thing you care about is Coriolanus, his hungry, desperate eyes on you, his fingers inside you, you clenching desperately around them.

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus suddenly asks, before lowering his mouth to your neck, his lips immediately finding that spot that drives you crazy when he starts sucking on the soft, sensitive skin with his lips.

„I - I don’t remember - fuck“, you cry, when Coriolanus curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars perfectly.

Coriolanus leaves another bruising kiss on your skin, before coming up again - his smirk telling you that he’s going to wreck you. „Good - because I’m going to fuck every memory of him out of you“, he promises.

Suddenly, his fingers leave you and you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness inside you, your walls clenching down around nothing, but then both his hands settle on your waist, turning you around until your front hits the bathroom door. His hands leave you for a moment and you can hear the rustling of fabric.

Then, suddenly, the skirt of your dress is pushed to the side and Coriolanus lines himself up behind you, his erection straining against your back.

„I’m going to fuck you - and after I’m finished with you, the only name you’ll remember is mine; the only name you’ll be screaming is mine - everyone in here, including that nobody will know that you belong to me“, he promises, before entering you in a rough, powerful thrust.

„Fuck“, you breathe, throwing your head back.

His cock is so big, the stretch almost painful, but unlike normally, he doesn’t give you any time to adjust to the stretch - pulling completely out of you, before slamming back into you with a harsh, almost painful thrust, his hands gripping your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh.

His pace is unrelenting, his thrusts into you rough, and fast, and bruising.

You whimper, your hands pressed against the door. „I - fuck, Coryo - ’s too much, fuck!“

Another painful, unrelenting thrust, but one of his hands suddenly leave your waist, moving to your clit, his fingers drawing teasing circles over the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

„That’s it, good girl“, Coriolanus praises, when he can feel you start clenching around him again.

You’re a quivering, panting mess, the lines between pain and pleasure so blurred you don’t know where one starts and the other ends.

Coriolanus’s harsh thrusts don’t let up. The only sounds filling the bathroom are his loud groans, your whiny whimpers and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus suddenly asks you again, at the same moment his cock hits that sweet spot inside you again, his fingers still circling your clit.

„I don’t - fuck, Coryo!“, you pant, the pressure inside you building and building and building with every one of Coriolanus’s powerful thrusts.

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus repeats, his hand on your waist suddenly moving up to your neck and squeezing - applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel perfectly dizzy.

„I don’t - I don’t remember - yes, Coryo, right there!“, you pant, when his cock starts hitting that spot inside you again and again, his fingers still stimulating your clit.

„That’s right“, Coriolanus says, his voice rough and coarse, „you belong to me.“

„Yes“, you pant, trying desperately to move your hips to meet his movements - you’re so close and you just want to feel that sweet, dizzying release.

„Yes, Coryo, I - you - I’m your’s.“

„Again“, he demands, his thrusts becoming even more rapid, his fingers still circling your clit. You know immediately what he means, what he wants from you.

„Coryo - I - I’m yours“, you pant, clenching around him.

His lips find the soft, sensitive skin of your neck then, leaving a bruising kiss. „Good girl.“

It’s all too much for you, then - Coriolanus inside you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, his fingers circling your clit, his hand on your throat, his lips on your neck, his words that make your head spin.

Your back arches, and you come with Coriolanus’s name on your lips, your cry so loud that you’re pretty sure that everyone that’s still gathered in the hall outside is able to hear it.

But you don’t care, because all you can think about is Coriolanus.

„Fuck“, he groans when he feels your walls squeezing him.

His grip on you tightens, and suddenly, he bites down on the soft skin of your neck. He thrusts into you again, and once more, making you whimper, and then he’s coming as well, his hot cum shooting into you.

„Fuck, Coryo“, you whimper, the added sensation too much for you.

For a moment, Coriolanus’s heavy breathing is your only answer. You stay like that for a moment - pressed against the door, him still inside you.

Then, Coriolanus presses a soft kiss to your throat. „Good girl“, he praises again, pulling out of you, his hand leaving your neck. „But I think you still need a reminder of who you belong to“, he adds, before suddenly his fingers are pushing back inside you, smearing his cum around your walls and your clit.

Suddenly, he bends down to retrieve your panties from where they hang around your ankles. You were right before, you think dizzyly, when you watch him tugging your panties up towards your waist again, the material did tear.

Coriolanus, however doesn’t care, stopping only once he’s pushed your panties up your waist again - smearing his cum across the thin material, before pressing your panties back against your swollen, cum-covered, oversensitive clit.

You whimper - you know what he’s going to do. He’s going to force you to walk around in your panties, soaked through with his still hot cum for the rest of the evening - a reminder that you belong to him. He’s the only one who gets to fuck you.

„There“, he says pressing a chaste, tender kiss to your shoulder - the gentle sensation in stark contrast to his harsh grip on your cunt.

„This should serve as a sufficient reminder, don’t you think, darling?“

tagging: @namelesslosers

someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these very unsophisticated thoughts

for more Coryo imagines, take a look at my Coryo masterlist :)

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #thg #tbosas #x reader #x reader smut #coriolanus snow imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #maysileeewrites

2K notes · View notes

hangmanssunnies · 6 months

Text

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship.

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts.

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills.

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up.

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along.

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually.

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response.

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds.

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request.

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?"

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him.

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?"

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries.

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm.

"And what?" Jake asks.

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail."

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson.

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you.

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead.

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste.

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

"Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson.

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes."

"Now, darling," Jake drawls.

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured.

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."

"How is that fair?"

"It's fair because he is my godson."

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?"

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?"

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling.

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on."

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face.

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though.

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need.

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil.

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over.

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit,"

"You were really great with him today."

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic.

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking.

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly.

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?"

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake."

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately.

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke."

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends."

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous.

"I'm sorry, Dolly."

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?"

"What?"

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone.

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe."

"I could help you find someone," he offers.

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you."

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out."

"No —"

"Harvard—"

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument.

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends."

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack.

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher.

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide.

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go."

"We have to," you insist.

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option."

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now."

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you.

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace.

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?"

"I thought so."

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not."

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow."

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway.

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door.

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened.

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship."

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns.

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy."

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs.

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him.

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath.

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first."

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much.

"May I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more.

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it.

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again.

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling.

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead.

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight."

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner.

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours.

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you.

"You didn't?"

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion.

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans.

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way."

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby."

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage.

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you."

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross."

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?"

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —"

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid.

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly.

"Then why are you all the way over there?"

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself."

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are.

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him.

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly.

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?"

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours."

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed.

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is.

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch.

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you.

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away.

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like.

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body.

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin.

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?"

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips.

"I want to. Do you not want me to?"

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out.

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing."

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you.

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

"I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs.

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter.

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk.

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?"

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well.

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby."

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about.

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though.

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present.

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard.

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes.

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously.

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises.

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you.

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too.

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this.

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time.

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily.

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out.

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him.

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you.

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you."

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?"

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly.

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more.

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm.

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him.

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak.

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?"

"Do you?" You wonder.

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately.

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him.

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry."

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby."

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you.

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin.

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?"

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation.

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back.

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile.

"Hey baby," he whispers.

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together.

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand.

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention.

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved."

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow."

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #hangman imagine #hot hot hot!#hoeing for hangman

2K notes · View notes

ode2rin · 10 days

Text

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is.

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.”

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. ��Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.”

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

#☁️ my ode to you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #michael kaiser #blue lock fluff #first milestone event!#writing: 004

831 notes · View notes

hihomeghere · 6 months

Text

Carousel Club | Five Hargreeves / Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After being dropped into 1963, you find work at the Carousel Club as a dancer. While following a tip where Luther could be, Five sees your routine. Overwhelmed by jealousy he sneaks into your dressing room. (I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters.) Warnings/Tags : Smut, cursing, piv, men being sexist (its the 1960s what do you expect?) dom!Five, Aged up!Five. A little bit of angst. Not requested.

You always trusted your husband. He was your constant in a very fucked up world. You knew he would never purposely harm you, or put you in harm's way. Sometimes that meant following him through time and space, other times it meant trusting him to not burn your dinner. So when he said he had a way out of the mess you and your in-laws had caused, of course you trusted him wholeheartedly.

You grasped Five’s hand tightly in your own, feeling a sense of deja-vu from the last time you two tried to spacial jump. Diego gingerly held your other hand, you looked up at him giving him a curt nod. He returned the nod before looking around at the rest of his siblings. You raised your eyes to the gaping hole in the ceiling, the intricate details of the theater framing the crumbling moon. Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. You gave him a reassuring smile, well as reassuring as you could.

Electricity crackled around the seven of you, wind whipping your hair in front of your face. Five’s grip on your hand was almost crushing, like you were his lifeline. A giant blue orb of energy appeared above your family, growing and glowing. Five strained under the pressure, his face contorting into a pained expression. The blue light enveloped you all, flickering and pulsing.

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” Five yelled as the ground shook beneath you, shutting your eyes tightly you felt yourself being pulled away from Five and Diego. You only had a moment of panic before you were thrown to the ground.

You groaned sitting up, the blue light of energy blinding you. You raised your hand shielding your eyes.

“Five!” You yelled as you got to your feet. As fleeting as the orb had appeared it disappeared, as though someone had turned an old tv off. Was that a flash, or just your imagination? You shook your head, taking in your surroundings. No Five, no siblings, no briefcase. Where the hell were you?

You wandered down the alleyway to the main street. Your hip twinged in pain after taking the brunt of your fall. You looked around the street, the lampposts and storefront neon signs were your only light source. You sank down on a bench, letting out a deep sigh. Your eyes wandered to a newsrack, you quickly got to your feet. You ran to it, holding the sides of the glass case.

August 1st, 1963. Dallas, Texas.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Damn it, Five. Shit, Alison. God, where were the rest of Five’s siblings?

“Honey, are you alright?” A soft voice asked, you turned your head sharply. You were met by a sweet woman’s face, big blond hair and bangs. She had a cardigan wrapped tightly around herself as she reached out to touch your shoulder. You shook your head, still coming to terms with the last five minutes. “Come on, I’m just about to go get something to eat, why don’t you join me?” She said, smiling sweetly.

“I-” You cleared your throat, “I don’t have any money.” You said, shaking your head. “Well then my treat.” She said helping you to your feet. You followed the woman down the streets of Dallas to a quaint diner. You sat down across from her, taking a look over the menu. People chattered mindlessly around you as you came to terms with your situation.

“I’ve seen that look before.” She said, setting her menu down on the table.

“What look?” You said furrowing your eyebrows.

“That look. Every girl I work with has had that same look.” She huffed thanking the waiter as he set down a coffee cup in front of her. “Small girl in the big city, not knowing where you’re gonna stay or what you’re gonna eat. Believe me, I’ve seen that look before because I’ve felt that before.” She said reaching across the table, taking your hand in hers. “So what’s your story, sweetheart?” You took a breath, choosing your next words carefully.

“My husband and I got separated.” You whispered, “My parents didn’t agree with our marriage and so we ran away. He was supposed to meet me here in Dallas but he didn’t show.” You said, not technically a lie, Five was supposed to be here with you.

“Oh dear,” She tsked, “well you do not have to worry about that anymore. I’m so glad I found you! You can stay with me until you get back on your feet.” You smiled, hopefully Five wouldn’t make you wait much longer.

“Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you hadn’t caught her name.

“Autumn.” She answered, holding out her hand for you to shake.

“I’m Y/n.” You smiled, taking her hand.

“You know Y/n, I could put in a good word for you with my boss. He may seem a bit rough around the edges, but we’re always short staffed.” She shrugged. Whatever the job was you would only have it for hopefully a week tops before Five caught up with you, along with his siblings.

“I appreciate it Autumn.” You smiled, patting her hand.

When you arrived at Autumn's place of work you wondered if you were a little over your head. You followed Autumn into the back entrance of the nightclub. You passed by many half dressed women, putting on their makeup and outfits.

“This way sweetheart!” Autumn called, you picked up your pace following her through the dressing room. Once on the main floor of the club you were greeted by the intense smell of cigars. Autumn had all but disappeared, you wandered through the tables. Trying to work your way to the front of the club, while also trying to avoid the men’s wandering hands at the tables.

“Y/n!” She called from a table, you turned your head. The club was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You were face to face with Jack Ruby, the man who would put the hit out on Lee Harvey Oswald. You gulped, straightening your shoulders you walked over to them.

“Mr. Ruby, this is Y/n she’s looking for a job.” Autumn said, clasping her hands together. Jack looked you over, a cigar dangling from his lips.

“Y/n who?” He said leaning back in his chair. You stuttered but only for a second.

“Y/n L/n,” You said with a smile, Hargreeves might get Five or your in-laws in trouble if anyone here caught wind of that name. He puffed his cigar, leaning over to whisper something to the man next to him. He chuckled before nodding, you bit your cheek. Feeling like a piece of meat in front of these men.

“Can you start tonight?” He said, lacing his fingers together.

“Of course.” You replied, Autumn cheered quietly beside Mr. Ruby.

“Autumn, be a dear and show her the dressing rooms. Tell ‘em I want Miss Y/n to be on stage by tomorrow night.” He said motioning with his cigar in hand. On stage? You turned sharply looking toward the stage of the nightclub, scantily clad women fanning themselves with large feather fans.

“Yes sir Mr. Ruby!” Autumn giggled, taking your arm and walking you towards the back.

You sat in front of your vanity, lined by bright golden bulbs. Brushing glitter onto your eyes before adding your long eyelashes. It had been three months since you had taken on your new job, along the way you had made many friends. You felt for all the girls alongside you, it was a rough profession but it paid well. You pulled your robe close around your body, walking over to the clothing rack. You rifled through the sheer jeweled fabric before your eyes landed on the black and white body suit. You threw your outfit over your arm heading back to your vanity. You were greeted by a beautiful bouquet of red roses, Autumn standing next to them with a coy smile.

“Autumn! Who are these from?”

“A secret admirer,” she cooed her bright red lips pulling back into a smile, “Just teasing! It’s from all of us girls here,” She said as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. Her cheap perfume floods your senses along with her sweet sweat.

“Y’all didn’t have to do that!” You smiled as she pulled away, she only waved you off.

“You’re one of the best here! Don’t know where you learned all your little tricks.” She said bumping your elbow with her own. She looked down at your costume in your arms. “Need help?” Autumn asked, holding out her hand.

“Yes please.” You said handing her your suit as you lowered your robe. You held onto her shoulders stepping into the suit, you adjusted your straps as Autumn tightened your corset. You admired yourself in the mirror, since taking on your new job you had become more toned. More than when you had worked at the commission, and these clothes were definitely more flattering than your blue suits you used to wear. You took in a sharp breath as Autumn pulled through the last loops, tying the ribbon with a neat bow.

“Alright sister, you’re ready.” She said squeezing your shoulders.

“Thanks Autumn, now go take your break!” You said waving her off.

“Y/n! You’re on next!” Shannon called from the stage door. You nodded, quickly stopping to smell the sweet scent of your roses before grabbing your tulle skirt. You tied it around your waist as you walked backstage. You picked up your red feather fans, taking a deep breath. You walked up to the closed red curtains listening to the deafening cheers and whistles. You heard the clink of the ropes being pulled back before you were blinded by the spotlights. You closed your eyes, bowing your head, your body covered by the bright red fans.

You started your routine, swaying your hips seductively as you pulled the fans back away from your body teasing the audience. You lost yourself in the music, thankfully it was difficult to decipher anyone’s face over the shadows cast by the spotlights. You unclipped the tulle skirt, throwing it off stage. You could make out a certain group of sailors, and a rather large man standing by the bar.

You teased the audience, covering your body with the fans before flashing them a glimpse of your shimmering body suit. You pulled the fans over your head, rotating your hips in a circular motion as you lowered into a squat. You bounced on your heels before jumping back up to your feet. You smirked as the men whistled and cheered.

The music slowed, and faded out as you walked behind the red curtain. You dropped off your fans before heading back to your dressing room. You opened the door, shutting it behind you.

“Who sent the roses?” Five’s voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head sharply, meeting Five’s predatory gaze.

“Five!” You gasped, your heart soaring in your chest. “When did you get here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said, crossing his arms. Your smile fell off your face, what was his problem? It’s not your fault that he dropped you off in the middle of 1963 with no resources.

“Three months ago.” You said furrowing your brows, “I’ve been looking for you this whole time!” He scoffed, clicking his tongue.

“Oh really? It looks like you’ve been getting enough attention without me.” He huffed, glaring at the bouquet of roses.

“Excuse me for finding a way to survive here.” You spit pushing past him, knocking his shoulder against yours. You took a seat in front of your vanity, pulling out your makeup kit. He stalked up behind you, towering over you. He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him through the mirror, effectively smearing your bright red lipstick.

“You’re mine.” He sneered, his lips pulling back over his teeth. You flushed, heat pooling in your core. You stared up at him through the mirror, his fingers squeezing your lips together. “Got it?” He asked. You glared at him, a devilish thought entering your mind.

You kept quiet, smirking as you watched a shadow pass over his features. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he tilted your head to look him in the eye.

“You must need a lesson.” He smirked, pulling you to your feet, you stumbled slightly in your heels. He kicked the chair away, you jumped as it thudded against the carpeted floor. His arm moved behind you, sweeping everything off of your vanity along with the roses. They crashed to the floor, the vase shattering. He pushed you against the vanity, caging you in with his arms as he slammed his hands against the mirror. He stared down at you with a wolfish grin, you felt yourself flush. Your heart started to beat faster as you squirmed under him.

“Yes sir.” You said tilting your chin up, staring at him through your lashes. He growled spinning you around, your hands splayed out in front of you on the top of the vanity. His hand connected to your ass cheek, letting out a low chuckle as you gasped. He moved your hair off of your back, his cold fingers attacking the strings of your corset.

“Stupid- fucking- ribbon-“ he said through gritted teeth, you caught the slightly crazed look in his eye through the reflection. Your body felt on fire, three months without him made every touch that more exhilarating. As soon as the corset was loose enough he was ripping it off of your body, along with your panties. You were entirely bare in front of your fully dressed husband. He stepped back, loosening his tie as he watched you squirm in the mirror.

“Not so confident now, dearest.” He smirked, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt. You breathed hard, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your nipples hardened against the cold air in the dressing room. You heard the familiar metal on metal as he took off his belt before unzipping his pants. He walked up behind you, nosing his dick against your folds. You clenched around nothing, pushing back against him. His hand came up to the back of your skull, wrapping his fist through your hair. He stared at you through his darkened gaze, you were breathless, your lips parting slightly.

“Please,” you whined, batting your eyelashes. He forcibly thrusted all the way in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You let out a pornagraphic moan before you covered your mouth with your hand. He grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your mouth and holding it behind your back.

“Why don’t you let everyone here know who you belong to?” He huffed in your ear, thrusting erratically into you. You gripped the desk, the only thing holding you up as Five plowed into you. “Let them know that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this.” You clenched around him as his words seemed to straight directly to your core. He let out a groan, loosening his grip on your hair. “Fuck you like this don’t you?” You nodded enthusiastically, your eyes rolling back into your head as his cock prodded against your g-spot.

“Yes, yes Five!” You babbled tears pricking your eyes, as he bent you over the desk. His hands flew to your hips, pulling them against his own thrusts. You could only lay there as your orgasm came crashing down. You were thankful you were on top of the vanity because there was no way your trembling legs would have been able to hold you up.

Five’s eyebrows knit together as he arched his neck back, his hips stuttering as his orgasm quickly followed yours. Cumming with a loud shout he collapsed on top of you, your sweat causing his thin shirt to stick to your skin. He pulsed inside of you as he gingerly tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. He pulled away, peeling himself off of you. He kissed your shoulder as his softened cock slipped out of you. Your breathing was slowly coming back to normal as he tried to return your room to the state it was before he had destroyed it and you. He picked up your robe draping it over your shoulders. You sat up, feeling his cum start to drip down your thighs.

“What took you so long?” You asked, tying your robe close around your naked body.

“I just got here.” He sighed, tucking himself back into his pants. “I’m sorry I made you wait.” He turned to you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I’ll always wait for you.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist. He held you against his chest, resting his cheek against yours.

“At least someone will, Luther and Diego weren’t too happy about me dumping them in the past.” Five sighed. Diego and Luther were here, too?

“Where are they?” You asked, turning to Five with wide eyes. Five looked at you inquisitively, a small smile pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“Luther works for Jack Ruby, y/n. I found him in this club before I knew you worked here.” Your stomach dropped. Luther worked for Jack Ruby? That means he must have seen your numbers.

“Oh god.” You said mortified, hanging your head against Five’s chest. He chuckled, shaking his head as he lightly rubbed your back.

“Believe me, he was just as mortified as you are.” He said, “Although I must say I thoroughly enjoyed your routine.” He lowered his voice, his hands trailing down your body to rest on your butt.

“I think I could give you a private showing.” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his tie. You pulled him forward by his tie, smashing your lips against his. His hands gripped your hips, the velvety fabric smooth against his palms.

“God I’d love that,” He let out a sigh, “but maybe we should wait until after we save the world.”

Again? It was happening again?

“Vanya?” You asked, pulling away.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He shrugged, “All I know is on November 25th the world ends, again.”

“Guess it’s time for a family reunion.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #five x reader #five hargreeves smut #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #alison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #sir reginald hargreeves #lila pitts #little bit of angst #hihomeghere

2K notes · View notes