#in the way that they love each other so much even though everything they do to each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steadybear · 2 days

Text

“ 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭 : 𝗺𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝗼𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝗼 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝗺𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧

Content warnings : nsfw content ahead, 18+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dragon anatomy..., breeding kink, unsafe sex (don't be silly, wrap up your willy), yandere themes, implied intent to baby trap, mlm, bl, gay sex, anal sex, idk if this counts as dubcon on either end??? (reader says no a lot but it's out of respect for dan heng rather than not wanting to????" ~7.5k words? (don't quote me, I'm guesstimating)

“ new contact noted! caller 𝚒𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚐 has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎��𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

𝙳𝚊𝚗 𝙷𝚎𝚗𝚐 had what he would call a one-sided crush on a particular resesrcher he conversed with on Herta’s Space Station for a little while

Others, however, would say he had an unhealthy attachment to one of the shining stars of the station, specifically one that specialized in areas of study related to geneology

"Please remember, this conversation isn't meant to make you feel uncomfortable in any way possible, I understand the questions we're moving onto may be..." Your fingers halted on your keyboard, mulling over your choice of words carefully. ..."uncomfortable to answer or inappropriate to ask." You finally pried your eyes away from your screen to make eye contact with the archivist. "So, please, please, feel free to decline to answer any questions, ask to take a break, or end the questions entirely."

How lovely; that you were so oblivious, Dan Heng noted in his mind. He'd been clearly eyeing you up over the table for the entire hour the two of you had discussed the history of the Vidyadhara. Yet, despite the glances you stole at him to make occasional eye contact while you took your notes, you had yet to notice anything amiss.

Not the abundance of information flowing past his lips, eager to please and more than willing to tell you anything and everything you wanted to hear from him; not the hopelessly lost look in his eyes, turquoise tracing each and every little different movement you made as you typed away; not even the clear and obvious rubbing of his thighs together; the clammy, shaky nature of his hands and each and every one of their careful movements; not even the obvious red hue that blotted his cheeks and flushed the tips of his pointy ears a bashful pink.

"Of course."

You nodded, a silent acknowledgement as you consulted a clipboard you'd pushed off to the side for the relevant questions you'd been meaning to ask. "You stated previously that the extent any Vidyadhara manifests more draconic features is reliant on their previous lives, is there any distinctions between those who outwardly display these traits?"

"Yes, no new Vidyadharas can be born, only through rebirth do any vidyadhara children come to be." He bit his lip, letting his thoughts ruminate, "Because of this, those who hold certain titles and authorities maintain this authority in all of their lives once they've regained memories of their past. While there are distinctions between Vidyadharas, it's not so much based on how we present but how we present is related to how strong our affinity is to certain rites and abilities related to our predecessors."

He tried to wipe his clammy hands off on his pants, but felt no relief at all. There was some kind of anxiety brewing inside of him and he couldn't pin what was causing it. It didn't help that you were moving onto the biology section of your questions, intimate knowledge of his body that nobody else knew. It brought him some comfort that your own cheeks were tinted a light pink out of general embarrassment.

He felt himself settle down more, but he also knew these would be the easy questions. It wasn't as though things would get more simple, to come up with complex questions, you'd need to know the basics.

Aeons, the things he would do just to steal your attention for just a few, fleeting moments.

Dan Heng's stomach dropped.

It shouldn't have showed up for at least another month, he realized. There hadn't been any sign of his heat rearing its ugly head in the slightest as of late.

He would know, he consistently tracked any and all symptoms for cases like this. He dreaded the idea of being stuck on a trailblazing mission and suddenly going into heat, but this was arguably a million times worse.

Dan Heng's idea of the most attractive man in the cosmos, sitting across from him with only a small coffee table separating them. He'd let out his horns and tails so you could sketch them down on a spare sheet of paper and you were far too close for his self-restraint's comfort. He carefully licked over his teeth in his mouth, hoping to find some kind of way to slip away from the conversation in due time. However, all hopes of this were dashed when you sheepishly made a small request of him.

"Do you think I could get a look at your fangs?"

He felt his entire body light aflame with red, hot desire tucked beneath a careful casing of embarrassment entwined with dread.

Upon noticing his apprehension, you were careful to notify him that he didn't need to do anything for you in the slightest. "I understand if that's uncomfortable, I would never want to force you to do anything that would cross any boundaries of yours. You can say-"

"Sure."

You blinked at him owlishly, snapping your jaw shut quietly. Doing your best to not miss a beat or make Dan Heng uncomfortable, you tried (and failed) to regain your composure and reinstate your more professional demeanor. Much to your chagrin, your pink cheeks and stammering gave you away. "Oh, I, uh, Alright-" you cleared your throat, gazing down at your clipboard nervously, "Whenever you're ready."

He opened his mouth slowly, allowing his fangs to be put on full display. His breath hitched in his mouth when you stood up from the couch across from him to sitting on the couch next to him. He could feel his heartbeat picking up and more heat pooling between his thighs when you started scooting in closer.

He squirmed under your watchful eyes, pitifully aroused and unbearably hot, but unable to do anything about it. You made quick work of sketching the basics of his dental layout, noting sharper fangs but also his forked tongue. You made a quiet observation, but you were hesitant to ask for further clarification.

"I- Nevermind."

Dan Heng did his best to keep his voice and breathing steady, but he couldn't help the tremble in his voice when he asked "What is it?"

You shook your head, "Your dental structure and the curvature of your fangs is similar to that of a few snake species I've had the ability to work with." You hesitated again to continue. But the sharp turquoise eyes on you made you feel an obligation to explain yourself, "I wanted to see if you, well, if you might have a Jacobson's organ but-" you cut yourself off again. You bit the inside of your cheek, squeezing out the last bit of your explanation quickly, "the location of the organ is in a bit of a compromising positions and it'd be so, so inappropriate of me to ask if I could see it-"

"I'm fine with that."

You froze, your face erupting in a flaming red as you stuttered over yourself, trying to explain the implications of looking at someone's Jacobson Organ. The little sadist in Dan Heng's heart was ecstatic to watch you get flustered, to watch you try to be as respectful as possible and keep that platonic wall firmly between the two of you.

He could feel it slowly starting to crack, continuing to shift in his seat as he waited for you to quiet down and actually get on with it. He murmured out a quiet affirmation that he truly was fine with it.

"I know what it means to look at it, I'm telling you I don't mind."

You averted eye contact for a moment before gulping down some spit and carefully setting your pen down on your clipboard, you hesitantly reached towards his face. You stopped about a foot away, inquiring meekly, "May I?"

He was quick to nod, a little too quick to be completely innocent. You didn't seem to pick up on it though, capturing his jaw between your pointer finger and thumb. He relished the skin on skin contact, drunk on the way your skin felt cool and welcoming on his own burning temperature.

You tilted his head up to get a look at the roof of his mouth, spotting the small mass behind the top front row of his teeth. You did your best to make quick observations so you didn't need to embarrass dan heng anymore than he most likely already was.

He, on the other hand, didn't want the moment to end. You were so close to him, your face just barely a foot away from his, looking at an intimate part of his anatomy. His eyes were half-lidded, sweat accumulating on his forehead rapidly. He didn't know why he didn't check out of the questionnaire the moment he knew his heat was coming on, but somewhere in the haze of his brain there was a small inkling as to why.

The longer your hand lingered on his chin, he could feel your pheromones start to waft up his nose and it was getting hard to see straight. The Jacobson's Organ itself was an organ meant to signal and interpret both signs of aggressive from others of your species, but also to signal a willingness to mate. Dan Heng's was sending electric signals pulsing through his cranium every second you peered at it from his jaw.

When your hand tried to retract from his jaw, he grabbed your wrist and pressed it onto his cheek.

It was only then you realized just how quickly his skin was rising in temperature.

He writhed on your mattress, your smell wafting addictively through the air as he did his best to peel his clothes off. He wasn't having much success, the sweat having just about fused it with his skin. You had rushed off earlier somewhere with a few words he couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He only managed to yank off his large overcoat and kick off his shoes and socks when you returned to the room. He was fumbling with various buttons and zippers on his top when you burst through your bedroom door with just about as many pillows and blankets as you could find in the short time you were gone.

You were fumbling over your words apologizing for not realizing sooner, saying you assumed Vidyadhara didn't have heat periods because they reproduced asexually. Your voice was in one ear and out the other as his fingers weakly and clumsily tried to pull his shirt over his head, but he noted that your arms were loaded to the brim with plush, soft, luxury pillows and blankets.

Nesting materials.

He was growing more and more desperate to get his clothes off of him as you dropped the pillows and blankets on the bed, apologizing over and over with a red face. He gave a needy huff when his fingers dropped the clasp of his shirt again. He couldn't get it off of him and he could feel frustrated tears settling in.

That was, until you started helping him out of his clothes.

You noticed his struggles and tentatively asked him if he needed help in this honey sweet voice, always stopping between each and every article of clothing you tenderly stripped off of him to make sure he was sure he was okay with you helping him out.

Soon enough he was left in nothing but his boxers as you excused yourself to start building up his nest for his comfort. You promised him you'd contact Caelus or someone else from the express to pick him up or at the very least explain the situation. He didn't answer, just about writhing in the middle of the bed, mind going fuzzy with the overwhelming feeling of you surrounding him.

He felt comfortable as he watched the plush walls being built around him, clutching on your blanket in particular as he could feel his hips begin rutting pathetically against the mattress. He buried his face in the soft fabric to try and hide his shame, all while huffing in your scent like cocaine.

Too many sensations, to many sounds, to many smells, his body concluded; throwing him into a haze of seeking blind release on your blanket. He hadn't even noticed you calling for his attention from next to your nightstand, setting down a pager and some water.

"-an Heng! Dan Heng!"

He finally snapped his eyes up to gaze at you, a little bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and his eyes glassy.

You gulped down some saliva to wet your dry throat before continuing, "I'm leaving, but there's a pager on the nightstand if you need anything."

There was some kind of deep noise that escaped from his throat, at the thought of you leaving. "Where are you going?"

You raised a hand, trying your best to dissuade his worries. "I'm at fault for this mess, I can just crash in Arlan's room or find a temporary one. I can't possibly ask you to move during your heat period."

He dragged himself closer to the edge of the bed, closer to you, as he tried his best to stop his hips from rutting against the wall of pillows and blankets you hastily built up for him. "You can st-stay." There was rumbling in his throat, one you realized was purring. He was trying to entice you into bed with him.

Your face pulsed a deep crimson as you vehemently shook your head, "You aren't in your right mind, I would never even think of taking advan-"

He whined, grabbing blindly for your arms as his hips started to move against the wall of pillows. "Need- Need something, someone, need you-" he cut himself off with a curse as he felt a growing knot of arousal build up more in his stomach.

At this point he was pulling on your arms, trying to pull you in closer, down into the nest. His torso lunging forward to press his face into the skin of your neck, he was just about whimpering directly into your ear while humping the bed.

"D-Dan Heng, you're in heat, I couldn't do something like that to you-" you stammered, trying to draw away from him. His insistent groveling was starting to get to you.

He tried pulling you down into the nest again, hands reaching up to your shoulders to push off the pristine white coat you usually wore. His little whimpers were growing desperate, practically begging for you to take care of him.

Your hands gripped his wrists, sending another spark of arousal up his spine, he couldn't even hear your next words, "This isn't right, you probably wouldn't be talking to me like this if you weren't in heat."

His thighs shook under him, looking at you with half-lidded eyes as you put your coat back on your shoulders so you could leave. "Wait-Wait, please don't go- ah~"

"If you need anything, I left a pager on the nightstand. When your heat is over we can talk-"

He whined his protests, but you adamantly let go of his wrists and he could feel himself getting more and more desperate to keep you in his nest as your delicious scent wafted away from him. "I think of you so, so muchhhsh, it's not just the heat." He mewled when he brought your blanket to his nose.

He let out an unintentional purr when you stopped just short distance away from your door. You turned to look at him. He pushed his hips against the fabric of the blanket and the sheets, already soaking both his boxers and your precious blanket with the scent of sex. "Y-You never talk to me unless you need to know something- agh~" his hips stuttered against the mattress again. "Have you ever considered my feelings?" He let out another moan when he ground particularly hard into the bed.

"What are you talking about?"

He keened when he felt your attention on him again, really playing up the pathetic act he was putting on. "Twice a year- hah~" he practically melted against your bed when he found the right angle to move his hips at, picking up the pace quickly. "-you're all I can think about. Alone in my room while the others are gone and I'm making a mess of myself."

He let out another drawn out whimper when you stepped closer to the bed, "Y-You never even spared me more than a glance- hngh~" he grunted when your blanket slid against the mess he was making of your bed, "I wanted you soooo ba-had~"

He crawled over to the edge of his nest to where you were standing, doing his best to reach out to you and make some kind of contact with your skin. "I want you- mmmnnhg~ right now, I n-need you here-" he gave a whine when you interlaced your fingers with him, his hips growing faster against the wall of the nest. "I want y-your, ouhh~, want your heellpppp-"

You considered your options carefully. Dan Heng certainly wasn't bad looking, in fact, you could feel yourself getting a less than respectable boner at the sight of him basically bashing his hips against your blanket. You had his prior consent, knowledge of an... intimate attraction at the very least. Last but not least, you felt partially responsible for the state he was in, despite his heat cycle having nothing to do with you.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek as Dan Heng put the hand intertwined with his own to his nose, sucking in the smell of your skin harshly. He was basically having the time of his life, eyes squeezed shut and his grunts and groans getting pitchier and pitchier with each passing moment.

You supposed you had to take responsibility for his little mess.

You let out a little groan of pain into his vent when he tugged harshly at your hair. He was just about jerking you further into his nether regions with one hand while he looped his fangs around one of his fingers on the other. His tail squeezed your upper bicep. You were laying on your stomach, going down on him with his legs thrown over you shoulders.

His little whimpers and whines weren't much to go off when it came to seeing what he liked most. Instead, you would go off the little things like the twitch of his thighs around your head or the way his hand tightened in your hair. There were actually a few things you figured out would get him to jerk his hips up into your mouth. Specifically, he really liked it when you managed to get your tongue inside his cloaca and tease the tips of his cocks.

You pulled your mouth off of his hips, relishing in his small protest. He keened, his hips chasing after your slick stained lips. You ignored his nonverbal begging for more, instead snuggly wrapping your biceps around his hips and squaring them back down on the pillow he was propped up on. You hadn't exactly done anything like this before, but that definitely didn't mean you weren't willing to learn.

Instead of going back in to continue teasing his slit, you focused your attention on what was slowly everting out of it. Your thumb traced over the slit of the dick that had just barely begun poking its head out his vent. You earned a muffled groan from Dan Heng, who was doing his best to muffle his noises on his finger. For his own dignity, you let him.

You tentatively licked over the tip just to gauge his sensitivity and were kindly rewarded with more of his cock sliding out and the second one just barely sliding emerging as well. The precum oozing off the tips tasted just like his slick, mouth numbingly sweet. It wasn't any kind of flavored sweet, actually it was almost like drinking a mouthful of sugar water; something you mentally took note of.

His fingers were just about digging into your scalp now, pushing your face down closer to him. He was trying to wiggle his hips up closer to your mouth, but your arms kept him firmly pressed down as you continued to mercilessly tease him. He sucked in a sharp breath when you finally took one in your mouth, going down slowly until your nose was flush with his pubic bone. You traced over the underside with an experimental flick of the tongue.

In turn, his thighs twitched to clamp your head in place, delivering a delicious pressure that kept you locked in between his legs. You felt the heel of his foot push into your back right between your shoulder blades. He tugged on your hair again, letting out a pathetic hiccup when you maneuvered your hand underneath his little leg lock to tease the opening of his vent.

He shivered deliciously when you groaned against him again, finally prying his thighs away from the sides of your head. You traced the outline of his cloaca slowly, sensually; causing his other hand to join in on tugging your head closer to his dripping sex. You rose off of his erection with plenty of spit and precum dangling from your lips, glinting in the low light.

His fingers carded through your hair as you finally got up from between his legs, crawling on top of him and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. Your breath was hot on his face and he could feel the sweat dripping on his brow as he locked his legs around your waist to pull you down on top of him.

One of your hands traced little patterns up the outside of his thigh and up to his little hip dips. You kept your voice low, trying not to overwhelm him since he was already trying to force his hips up higher to grind on your own erection. "As much as I'd love to keep going like we were, I want to hear what you want to do."

He seemed to lack the ability to answer, coherent thoughts transitioning to jumbled syllables and begging the moment they moved past his lips. He finally managed to raise his hips high enough to rut on the inside of your thigh, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. He was getting overwhelmed, your scent and your touch and the things you were making him feel drowned him in an ocean of white hot flames, boiling him alive with all the sensations sending a pleasant buzz through all of his nerves.

"Hm? Dan heng?" You cooed into his ear, he took in a sharp inhale, letting out a breathy huff in response. He kept rutting up against the inside of your thigh, his dicks standing at full attention and weeping precum all over your skin. Once again, he couldn't respond, letting out little huffs and groans into your neck while he tried to chase the feeling of completion.

You used the hand that was gently caressing his thigh to push his hips back down towards the bed. Chastising him gently for not answering you, "C'mon, I can't help you if you don't tell me how I can help, sweetheart."

He could feel the hot wet trails of tears running down his face as he started crying. He sniffled pathetically as his hips struggled against the strength of your arm keeping them pinned down by the waist. His hands moved from your hair to your shoulders, trying to use them to get more leverage to try and fight against your grip. "I- I-"

"Yes?" You purred, placing a kiss to the side of his neck. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyelids fluttering shut as he tried to put more effort towards thinking. "What do you want from me, Heng?"

He whimpered at the mention of his name, "I don't know- I don't know-" he hiccupped, his fingernails leaving crescent marks in your shoulders, "I want to feel good, I-" a sniffle, "-touch me, please touch me agaainn..."

"Good," your murmured against his skin, "Just a little bit more, you're being so good for me," you placed a few more kisses up his neck until you met his jawline, "Where do you want me to touch you? How do you want me to touch you?"

His tail squeezed around your thigh, shaking as tried to ground himself enough to answer. He pressed his foot further into your back to bring your body down closer. He whimpered, "-Inside" his fingers trailed up to your jawline, "I- I want it inside." He held your face in his hands to make eye contact with him.

In all his teary eyed glory, you still managed to find the willpower to hold back and tease him just a little more, "What do you want inside?" He whined, roughly bringing your forehead to touch his. You pressed an innocent peck to his lips, "Last question, Heng, What do you want inside?"

He keened, chasing after your lips, almost yelling against your mouth, "YOU! I want YOU insiiihiidddeee~"

You curse against his lips, "...ah fuck," you suck a sharp breath between your teeth. You dot kisses on his face, holding him in a soft missionary. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" You were scared to hurt him, trying to help him relax a little bit.

Dan Heng, on the other hand, was barely cognizant, eyes squeezed shut as little tears poured down the sides of his face. Was it from the pain? No, rather it was from relief.

"good, good, so good-" he babbled, arms looped around your neck as he tried to push himself backwards and further up on the pillow propped under his pelvis.

You gently stroked his hair away from his face, thumbing away the tears on his cheek. You gently pushed another couple of inches into him, causing him to let out a shaky moan. You kissed him on his sweat-caked forehead, shushing him as he cried pathetically underneath you. "You're doing so good, such a good boy, almost there, promise."

"Ahnnn~" he squirmed under the praise, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, "deeper, please," he sniffled, "-please, deeper,"

You nodded, starting to push just a little bit in further, stopping when his tail smacked unceremoniously against your back. His back arched up against the bed in an open mouthed scream, just about seeing stars when you brushed past his prostate. He kept drooling, hiccupping and whining for you to keep going.

You finally bottomed out, ultimately noticing just the smallest bump protruding on his mid-section. His hands were scratching lines down your back, his mouth pressed shut tight and his jaw tense. Tears continued to stream down the side of his face as muffled murmurs and whimpers bounced around the inside of his taut lips.

You latched onto the side of his neck, placing a delicate kiss before starting to suck a light hickey into his pale, pale skin. He shuddered under the simple touch, a broken, humiliating purr resonating from his throat.

He sniffled again, sobbing, "P-Please, just move, I can't wait- ouhhh~"

You unlatched from his neck, kissing the just barely red skin gently before drawing your hips away from his pelvis. He let out a long drawn out moan, his voice cracking in the middle of it. You pulled until your length was about halfway out, snapping your hips forward as gently as you could.

He let out a yelp, thighs twitching and clamping down on both sides of your waist. After a small pause, you repeated the same thing, earning another broken squeak. You set the pace slower just so you knew Dan Heng wouldn't be too overwhelmed. He laid there, largely limp for a short period of time, voice cracking and tears streaming down the sides of his face.

Eventually, when he seemed to get used to the feeling, his broken moans turned into purrs and huffy groans. His hips started to rock back against yours, hands balling up and relaxing into fists behind your neck. He reached for your face, a little bit less out of it and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

The first thing you were met with was his teeth clacking against yours before his long forked tongue ran over your bottom lip. You teasingly nipped at his lip, earning a purr as he parted his tips more the let you take control of the kiss.

It was around then that you got a more devious idea. You played nice to begin with, feeling around the inside of his mouth with your tongue, but eventually, when his whines started to get louder, you decided it'd be the right time to push him over the edge. Cheekily, you smiled into the kiss before pressing your tongue right on top of Dan Heng's Jacobson's organ.

You only had a split second to register that you'd actually done it before Dan Heng all but screamed into your mouth and the two of you were graced with white painting both of your chests.

You rocked your hips forward slowly working him through the intensity of it. You finally bottomed out again and stilled, pulling away from his lips.

To your surprise, however, Dan Heng's fingers moved from the back of your neck to tangling themselves in your hair. He was panting, teary eyes glassy and glazed as he pushed his chest closer to yours.

His lips parted, ghosting over your own lips as he begged, "Do that again, Ouh~ Please, please do that again, mhhhh~" His hips continued to rock back against yours but they weren't getting all that far; he was basically just grinding himself on the based of your cock.

You hesitated for a moment before tentatively locking lips with him again. At his insistence, you started to move again, but shallowly and slowly. He grunted into the kiss, tugging on your hair to show his disapproval. You huffed into the kiss before almost completely pulling out before shoving your hips forward harshly. He made a choked noise, just about having the wind knocked out of him at the sudden change.

You pulled away from the kiss, feeling a little mean as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. "Wow, I didn't know you could be so greedy, Heng. You already came once and you're begging me to go harder?"

"Please- hah~ please, I feel like I'm going crazy-"

You kissed the shell of his pointed ear, drinking in the little noise you got in response before humming and catching his lips again. Maintaining about the same pace as before, you started knocking the air of him continuously with each thrust. You started toying with the forked tongue in his mouth and slyly sliding your tongue over his fangs.

He let out a drawn out moan into the kiss, pushing his face against yours harder. He tried coaxing you further into his mouth, just about begging you to inject the bundle of nerves with just about the highest concentration of your pheromones he could get.

Still, you played hard to get, wrapping your tongue in his. In your focus on him, you didn't notice your pace was picking up as you got closer to your own orgasm. Eventually, when he gave a particularly harsh tug to your hair did you finally relent.

However, while you gave into tonguing over the roof on his mouth, you also wrapped a large hand around the two painfully red cocks bouncing against both of your stomachs. He squealed into your mouth, thighs trying to squeeze shut and protect himself from the onslaught of sensations. When he finally forgot his requests for you to put your tongue on the little bump on the roof of his mouth, did you let him have his way.

His eyes snapped open, pupils rolling up into his skull as you continued to stroke him and shove your tongue into the top of his mouth. He fell limp in your arms, fingers only staying attached to your hair because they'd just about knotted themselves in your locks.

You felt the pit in your own stomach starting to get tighter, eliciting a set of groans into Dan Heng. You sped up your pace, knocking Dan Heng out of his little stupor as his hands tugged about as hard on your hair as they could without pulling out any chunks. He was back to crying while you were just about fucking him open and drinking in the noises he was screaming out into your own mouth.

Finally, you let out a finally, deep, guttural moan as you bottomed out and finally spilled your seed inside of him. His back arched and his mouth fell open in a lewd moan, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he spurted all over your stomachs again.

"yesyesyesyesyesyes-umffff~"

You panted as you shoved his face into the pillow by the neck with one hand while the other carved bruises into his hips in the shape of your fingers. It'd been a couple hours later and Dan Heng was absolutely insatiable.

You supposed you should've expected it, seeing as he's in heat and all, but you didn't expect him to have nearly enough energy to keep going for the rest of the afternoon and into the early hours of the morning. Well, it was probably easier for him to keep going than you. After all, you were the one that was actually putting in the majority of effort to keep pile driving him into the sheets.

You grunted as you pressed your chest onto his back, watching the way his tail rattled in the air in contentment. Your hips were consistently slapping against his ass, his hands clutching at the pillow you'd shoved his face into mere seconds earlier.

His happy, fucked out noises were difficult to hear from the plush, comfortable pillows, but more audible now that you were closer to his face. You pressed a handful of kisses down his spine before reaching your hand around to his front. Originally, you were going to try and stroke him through another orgasm, but instead, the hand that was formerly on his neck ghosted over the bump you were creating in his stomach. He let out a noise into the pillow that was as delectable as sin. His entire body spasming when you applied pressure onto the same point.

After a couple of hours in, his cum had thinned to the point he was just shooting blanks at this point. His cock was an angry, crimson red from the amount of times it'd actually gotten off. Just like now, his entire body tensed, but nothing actually came out.

So instead, you pressed harder on the bulge, watching in delight how his body fell limp and he stopped rocking back to meet your rough, quick thrusts forward.

It was cute for the first couple of minutes, watching him weakly moan into the pillow and claw at the sheets underneath him to try and ground himself from the heaven you were currently sending him to. But as of now, your own hips were starting to get tired. Your thighs were burning after about three hours of copulation, but you also knew the moment you stopped, Dan Heng would be alert again, demanding your attention again. Sigh, so needy.

Taking matters into your own hands, quite literally actually, you traced up his stomach before curving it around to the side and resting it on his hips. You starting tugging his hips back onto your dick, listening to the sweet mewls he let out as he turned to press only one side of his face into the pillow.

Still not quite satisfied with the amount of friction generated from using his hips as handholds, you turned your attention to the rather large solution position just a few inches away on his spine.

A devious grin broke out on your face before you ghosting your hands over the base of it, taking special satisfaction from the way his eyes widened. The next moment, your hand was wrapped around his tail and his eyes were rolling back up into his skull, low moans turning into high pitched squeals as the end of his tail rather weakly whacked against your shoulder.

Once again, you were just so close to getting to your own peak, you meanly wrapped your other hand just above the other one, sending him jolting forward towards the headboard. He finally picked his front half up from the bed sheet and clutched the top of the headboard, resting his head on it as his nails dug into the wood. You were a little concerned when you heard it start to splinter, but you dismissed it for when your thoughts were cloudy with making sure Dan Heng definitely wouldn't be able to think about anyone else during any of his following heats.

Finally, the moment came when the pooling heat in your stomach exploded and unleashed another load inside of him, prompting him to scream as just the tiniest few drops of crystalline cum shot from his angry red tip.

Once again, when you stilled to try and catch your breath to see if Dan Heng was finally satisfied, the way he looked back at you, despite the drool dripping down his chin and dried tear tracks on his cheeks, was pleading with you to keep going. He punctuated it with pushing his hips back against your softening cock again.

Horny little bastard.

During the last few rounds, Dan Heng had started becoming rather verbal. Not to be confused with vocal, he was vocal since foreplay started. No, he started talking a lot the more and more energy you were losing.

At this point, you were much too worn out to wonder why. A few flitting thoughts trailed through your head, but were quickly knocked out of you the more you snapped your hips forward and the sweet sound of Dan Heng's hoarse cries replaced them.

"Sooo fullllll~" he mewled, riding slowly. The height he was rising was getting less and less as his pace was getting slower. His voice was slowly starting to slur the longer he was on top. He held an inflated stomach with one hand, using the other shaky arm to support himself on your chest.

Soon enough though, his arm gave out on him and let himself rest his head on your chest, hips still insisting on moving, though he was barely rising. "Ghonna get pregnaannnttt~" he purred into your ear. You lazily hummed an affirmation in his ear. Eyes half-lidded in exhaustion as you watched him use the last bit of energy he had to try and reach one more orgasm.

"Ghonna have your babyyy~" he cooed, his hips finally resting on your pelvis. He moved his pelvis in little circles, what little energy he had left diminishing exponentially the longer he went on. He whined out your name when your eyes shut.

"I'm listening, Dan Heng," you affirmed, sleeping hand coming to rest on the small of his back while the other cupped his cheek.

"You have to stay with me if I have your baby~" he complained, "you can't ever leave me."

You raised an eyebrow at his words, but chalked it up to a horny dragon that was giving into his mating instincts. "Yes, Heng. I won't leave you or the baby."

There was a weak purr that emitted from his throat, his hips finally stilling flush with your own. "Would jyou make me yohur wifeee..."

You hummed into his skin, "Mhm..." you rubbed a thumb across his cheek, letting him settle into his cute little domestic dream. "My pretty wife and our baby."

You could feel a smile stretch across his face against the skin on your chest. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. His hands pressed up against your abdomen, resting there as you felt him burrow his nose right in between your pectorals. "Prhomishe?"

You twirled a piece of his hair around your finger, mumbling out a half-awake, "Promise."

With that, you could feel his breathing relax and small snores emit from his mouth. Without moving all that much, your own arm lazily grabbed at a blanket, throwing it over the both of you before letting yourself also drift off into the land of dreams.

Before that though, there really was only one thing left on your mind...

How exactly were you supposed to survive the rest of his heat if this was going to be your everyday?

there a small note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" i fear this is the filthiest thing I've ever written and I will be doing it again soon. "

feel free to submit requests (if you're interested) either on the post I provided or in my inbox, either works and I'll most likely get around to it eventually

if you also just want to chat, that is a-okay too, i need people to preread my stuff so if you're interested hmu

oh yeah, if you're interested in a follow-up/sequel to this, also let me know either through inbox or by leaving a note or reblog. I appreicate any and all interactions, largely cause interactions motivate me to actually write things instead of leaving it in the recesses of my brain.

- love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19

458 notes · View notes

5sospenguinqueen · 1 day

Text

Bedtime Stories Pt 2 | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: Daniel made a silly little comment that lost him everything. Over a year later, he tries his hardest to fix his mistakes.

Warnings: Swearing. A tiny smidge of angst but mainly fluff. Redemption for Daniel.

Female reader with various faceclaims (pics found on pinterest). Takes place in 2023. For the purpose of the this, Daniel has been with AlphaTauri the whole time.

Part 1

Main Masterlist

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

28•05•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by redbullracing, YourUserName and others

danielricciardo monaco, always a delight. P11. so close to the points but racing through your streets feels like being on a podium

4,337 comments

landonorris and whose attention are we trying to grab with that sexy last pic 👀

→ danielricciardo only yours, mate

→ User1 don’t act like you’re not dying inside because y/n liked this

→ User2 relax, they never unfollowed each other 🙄

maxverstappen1 you’ll get them next time, mate

→ danielricciardo fancy giving me a tow?

→ maxverstappen1 never

→ User3 i love their friendship so much

User4 um, did anyone see that y/n liked and then unliked this post

→ User5 omg yes! sis was caught stalking and we love her for it

→ User6 i too would thirst over my ex if he looked like that

kellypiquet we were watching the whole time

liked by danielricciardo

→ User7 what a weird comment to make?

→ User8 who’s we, kelly?

→ User9 what does this mean?

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

04•06•2023

Tweet 1

User10 @ kikiki babe did you hit your head? is that why you were in the ER? they broke up

User11 @ kikiki maybe ask them to do a head scan whilst you're there 'cause ain't no way you saw here there

→ User12 literally. like why would she even be in spain right now?

Tweet 2

User11 i think we might have to apologise to @ kikiki

→ User10 can we really trust the wag page though? They did report that Lando was having a secret love child the other week..?

Tweet 3

User13 asking the real questions because she's not even hinted that she’s been writing so it’s not like she’s on a book tour or anything?

→ User14 some people are saying she could be on vacation but please, why would mother choose a holiday destination during a time that she knows is a GP?

User15 guys, guys, I think our sacrifice circle worked

→ User16 please, please, 🕯️🕯️

User 17 how poetic would it be though if they got back together during the spanish GP when they broke up at the spanish GP a year ago

User18 shouldn’t you know these answers, and that she was in spain, if you're her so-called updates page

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

22•08•2023

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName some big news approaching

6,349 comments

kellypiquet i can’t wait, my beautiful girl

→ YourUserName thank you for being my #1 support

→ kellypiquet thank you for letting me help plan

→ User1 what does this mean?

→ User2 miss piquet stop being so cryptic on socials

maxverstappen1 i’m very excited

→ YourUserName did kelly force you to write that because i could feel the excitement oozing through the screen

→ maxverstappen1 i wanted to say something worse

→ YourUserName i hope she leaves you

→ kellypiquet behave, you two!

→ User3 i live for max and y/n terrorising each other, even without danny ric being around to encourage it

bloomsburypublishing we look forward to the end result

User4 i’m sorry but is this a soft launch?

User5 who is that in the last slide, miss y/n?

→ User6 the inspiration behind a new romance we hope

User7 don’t be shy. tag him

User8 soft launches have recently become my least favourite thing

charles_leclerc are you perhaps writing my next plane read

→ YourUserName depends how long the flight is

→ User9 confirmation of a new book ya’ll!! everyone say thank you charles

User10 i like to be edged by her books, not by her hiding her man

User11 don't try and distract us with news of a new book, we wanna know who the feet belong to!

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

01•09•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by maxverstapen1, yukitsunoda0511 and others

danielricciardo ciao a tutti. lovely sightseeing in beautiful Italy

6,445 comments

User12 you’re telling me that i’m currently in the same country as THE daniel ricciardo?

kellypiquet i’m still trying to recover from that hike

→ User13 kelly and max went on a double date with daniel and the new girl?!

→ User14 omg please be y/n. i can’t imagine kelly agreeing to it otherwise

User15 i know he's trying to distract us with his beauty but we see the last slide, daniel. we see it

pierregasly so you’re telling me that you were in milan and didn’t bother to come and see me? that’s it. i'm ending our friendship

→ danielricciardo i’m sorry, mate. i was doing more important things

→ pierregasly clearly ;)

User16 someone check on y/n, please

→ User17 babe is clearly having the time of her life in italy (yes, i'm delusional)

User18 does nobody find it odd that he’s posting a soft launch not long after y/n posted a soft launch

→ User19 i know! it’s only been three weeks since hers and he’s posting one

→ User20 i can’t decide whether they’re soft launching each other or he’s trying to make her jealous by flaunting a new relationship as well

→ User21 it HAS to be each other or i will die

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

15•10•2023

lando.jpg just posted

liked by YourUserName, danielricciardo and others

lando.jpg so i attended this event… and no, it’s not mine before you all freak out

8,223 comments

charles_leclerc it was a beautiful day ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux i’m so thankful to have been a part of such wonderful memories

kellypiquet the most beautiful bride i have ever seen

maxverstappen1 this was a nicer caption than i expected from you

→ danielricciardo agreed

→ landonorris i take offence to that

User1 guys do we think kelly and max got married? they’ve both comments on this?

→ User2 yes but so did charles and alex so…

→ User3 plus, i know kelly is stunning but do we really think she would call herself the most beautiful bride in 3rd person?

georgerussell63 i’m surprised you remember much after the state you were in

→ landonorris excuse you but most of that was just pure happiness

hulkhulkenberg an amazing day

estebanocon so happy to have been a part of this

alex_albon how’s the hangover, mate

→ landonorris i didn’t drink that much!

→ georgerussell63 tell that to the bouquet that you puked on

→ landonorris i caught it so it was mine anyway

carlossainz55 beautiful photos. she’ll love those

→ User4 who’s she?!

lewishamilton🤍🩵

fernandoalo_official congratulations to the happy couple

User5 the entire grid are commenting on this post, clearly having been in attendance. who IS IT?

pierregasly c’était une belle mariée

liked by YourUserName

User6 guys, y/n’s name on socials just changed from y/l/n to ricciardo

liked by danielricciardo

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

03•04•2024

YourUserName just posted with danielricciardo

liked by kellypiquet, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName my husband helped with this project. baby ric coming aug 2024

9,550 comments

kellypiquet you will be the most beautiful mother. i’m so honoured to be part of this with you 💕

→ YourUserName stop you’re going to make me cry. you’ll be the most perfect godmother

→ kellypiquet i still think you should've married me instead

maxverstappen1 i call godfather

→ landonorris no you don’t get to call godfather! you already got to be a groomsman

→ maxverstappen1 yeah because who helped get them back together

→ YourUserName kelly

→ danielricciardo me

→ YourUserName no, babe

danielricciardo and before you all ask, no I haven’t stopped crying since she told me

→ kellypiquet me too, dan, me too

maxverstappen1 on a serious note, i am very happy for the two of you. y/n will be a wonderful mother, and daniel, he’ll be there also

charles_leclerc i am so excited. alex keeps telling me to stop buying baby things for you guys but i just don’t listen

→ YourUserName well at least you can safely say that uncle charl bought little mcqueen’s love

→ User7 uncle charl!!!!

lewishamilton congratulations, you two. y/n looks amazing

fernandoalo_official how lovely 💚

User8 omg it WAS their wedding lando attended!!!!!

hulkhulkenberg baby ricciardo!!

pierregasly congratulations. i can’t wait to be uncle GASSLYYYYYY

alex_albon welcome baby ricciardo

→ lilymhe it’s not an alien, alex. you don’t have to greet it so formally

redbullracing we’re all so excited for the upcoming grid baby. working on a racer stroller right this minute

→ mclaren you stole our gift idea!

→ redbullracing you stole our driver!

carlossainz55 congratulations y/n and daniel 😄

mercedesamgf1 what wonderful news 🍼

landonorris i’m just so glad i can go back to calling you mum and dad without daniel wanting to drive his car into the barrier

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Please don’t hate me for this! I did say from the beginning that Part 2s would be redemption.

I’ve had this planned and written since before Part 1 was published so when half of you then asked for her to get with another driver/move on, I was like noooooo I’ve already planned their baby 😂

As always. Requests welcome. If you have requested, I promise I’m not ignoring it, it’s been added to my queue

Baby Fever Angst Part 1s

Max’s Version | Lando's Version | Lance’s Version

Charles’ Version | Oscar’s Version

Tag list

@bibissparkles @barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @reguluscrystals @peachiicherries @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @weekendlusting @leclercsluvs @hannannannannannah @lifeless-firefly @sinofwriting @exotic-iris13 @imperfect-paragon @dan3avocado @barcelonaloverf1life @avillagesperson @hard4ndsoft @justzluv @laneyspaulding19 @danielshoe @chocolatefanunknown @redcrescentmoons

Sorry if I missed anyone!

568 notes · View notes

i-yap · 1 day

Text

Batboys x quiet! reader(who is not quiet in private)

( some of the reasons for the quietness is a bit traumatic so uhh warning)

Dick grayson -

opposites attract is possibly my favorite trope ever. And that is exactly what you guys are . Not exactly golden retriever x black cat though people who didn't know you guys well assumed such .

Dick would get exhausted spending forever being charming and charismatic for even the most extroverted of people get tired when they had to manage multiple superhero teams, a detective squad and the whole batfamily.

You were silence, peace serenity almost..until you weren't. Grayson was worried about this relationship in the start, after all you guys were really different. He was afraid you were going to be annoyed by his sunshine self, and that when he isn't feeling like talking, the conversations would go silent.

But you really are so different when comfortable with someone, and its tough not to trust and drop your shield with grayson.

It took him by surprise slowly seeing you open up and show your weird side. It somehow made him cherish it more and even want to show sides of him that only you got to see.

When he asked you why you weren't like this with everyone you said " My parents had a habit of talking over me, sometimes outrightly not hearing me speak at all. No matter how loud I spoke..i wondered if they couldn't hear me...if anyone even wanted to you" "why me then?" asked dick , "you're nothing like my parents, I know you care" and he does..he really does. He won't ever let you feel like that every again. He will make sure everything you want said is heard, and if not he will burn it into the skyline

Jason todd

he appreciated it, a quiet person in public. He hated being in public, he hated the buzz the noise the push the touch of humans around him. He felt strange

till he feels you hold his knowing you felt just as strange as him. Leave the gala and walk around the library , one earphone in each ear listening to whatever you wished to play.

Pulling you close in crowded areas- was it for you or for him? Glaring at anyone who dared tease you about your quietness. A single glare usually does the job but don't worry ...other ways exist too.

He loves that when you two are alone, you are a completely different person. It makes him feel special, like he is the only one who understands you. Because you're the only one who understands him.

When he asks " well I guess I never felt like people liked what came out of my mouth.. my humour too dark, my words too dumb and I didn't make sense. So I stopped trying" don't worry about being cringe..he understands you completely

Tim drake

he is intruiged. How do you pull such a perfect facade. How does one look so poised and collected with those rich assholes and so wild and untamed with him?

He could never really perfect the act the way you did. He's seen you grow up, but somehow its like you were born with two people living in your brain.

If you're this mysterious to your childhood lover, how does anyone in the world even think that they could know you, both versions of you.

Dont get me wrong, he loved it, A mystery he never could solve, not even with your help.

" Teach me your ways master" "I remember you wanting me to call you that last night..oh no wait it was si-" "shut upp" "fine ill tell you timmy boy, I just believe those rich stick up their ass puppets don't deserve to see all ..this.." "what about school kids, friends , teemates-" "I don't need anyone to get me as long as you do"

He will never get it, even if someone engraved it into his skin he wont understand everything about you , you'll always be the case he couldn't solve.

AND WE ARE BACK BICHES , send in requests and stuff, inbox open again blah blah I'm feeling much better now but I might push angst stuff more

189 notes · View notes

i-love-you-just-the-same · 2 days

Text

god i feel rough (failing delusionship) so let's do a quick little reaction to giving the 141 little gifts

you and soap regularly sit around and watch your favorite movies. gives you guys something extra to talk about while out in the field. most of them military related like American sniper or some really stupid comedies like the Hangover. A long time favorite of both of yours is the Office, though. So when you're on leave and see one of those stupid Dunder Mifflin keychains, you don't even think twice about getting it for him. When you're back and give it to him, Johnny gets real quiet and puts it on his keys. Gives you a little kiss to your temple and turns on one of your favorite episodes. Keeps you in his arms for awhile after that, platonically of course, bonnie.

ghost and you don't really talk much. you're both together a lot though, existing in each other's orbit. he does paperwork, cleans his guns, stitches up a new mask, whatever. you work on a new hobby, watch YouTube, sleep, or yap into the void. nevertheless, you two are very close. imagine simon's surprise one day as you two sit, your back against his shoulder, as you finish up a friendship bracelet for him. intricate little heart design. you hold it out to him in offering with a little smile, a bit too cautious for his taste. holds his wrist out, lets you put it on him. doesn't say much, but notices you made yourself a matching one. takes it, puts it on your wrist, and brings it to where his mouth is under his mask. little peck. best gift he's ever gotten, birdie. goes back to his work, but it becomes his fidget toy. inspects your wrist when he sees you without yours, brows furrowed. follows you around like a little lost puppy until you confirm that yes, simon, everything's fine.

gaz is baby. he loves spending time with you around base. your room is next to his, making it is easy for you two to meet up and have a nice time. however, his time in the military has made him harder and more forgetful to civilian celebrations and traditions. so when you two are sitting on night watch and you pull out a little cake with happy birthday gaz written on it, he remembers fond memories of a time before. loves you for bringing good memories to his forefront. shares with you, feeding you with his fork. pinkies linked as you watch the sunrise.

gruff old man price won't accept much. he's got a lot on his plate, doesn't need much else going on around him. however, when his favorite little sergeant stops by with a little treat and a cigar for him, he's gooey. all pleasant smiles, wonderful manners, asking about your day. hides his emotions when you mention a pesky little flea on another squad has been bothering you. don't worry, darling, you don't know it but he'll take care of it (if one of his boys doesn't first).

they'd be jealous of eachothers attention on you if they didn't feel the exact same way. pretty little thing, only for them.

212 notes · View notes

berry-potchy · 2 days

Text

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel part 2

Summary: Your dad shows up unannounced, interrupting your romantic dinner with Miguel. He plants seeds of doubt in your pretty little head that Miguel is more than happy to snip off

Tags: DBF!Miguel x F!Reader, age gap, college age reader, P in V sex, size difference (smaller reader), brief under the table footjob, spanking, insecurities, vague mention of Miguel’s past relationships, uncomfortable relationship talk with your dad who means well but ends up making you feel like shit anyway

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! The second part actually exists. It’s been almost a year since part one and I kept teasing part 2 but I couldn’t think of a way to end it. I considered just abruptly cutting it off and post it but I just couldn’t do it. BUT HERE IT IS NOW. Hope you guys still enjoy it!

Part 1

It has been a week since Miguel has caught you masturbating to the thought of him. A week since you found out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. A week of absolute depravity that you thought only happened in porn. He fucked you all over the house; no room, furniture, or surface was left untouched during your vigorous lovemaking.

Unfortunately, his “sick leave” had to come to an end and so did your self-imposed break from uni. He’s going back to work the next day so you decided you were going to do something special and make the most of the last evening of his leave. Of course, there’ll be more times to fuck but you feel the need to give him something special before he goes back to his workaholic mode. Maybe it’ll encourage him to start coming home earlier.

You had everything planned. You and Miguel had a lovely early dinner that he helped you prepare. The way it was so easy to fall into a domestic routine made your heart flutter. You’d have to ask him if you can do this with him more often when he’s not so busy with work. You also had wine that Miguel picked out for both of you. You trusted his mature tastes even though you knew he preferred hard liquor. And for dessert, well…

“That’s it, gatita,” Miguel grunted in your ear, a deep growl rumbles from his chest as he rams his fat cock relentlessly into your greedy cunt. “Taking my cock so well. I’m gonna miss this when I’m at work tomorrow. Gonna think about your tight little pussy while I’m in a boring meeting.”

You can’t form any coherent words from how aggressive his thrusts were. Each thrust drove his cock deeper into you, his tip kissing your cervix, knocking the air out of your lungs and the words out of your little cock drunk brain. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and your arms holding his broad shoulders for support, hands desperately clawing at his back. You clung to him tightly as he fucked you standing up in the middle of the kitchen. He took full control of your body, his large hands on your waist, moving you up and down his cock as he pleased, like you’re his personal living cocksleeve.

“My little slut can’t even talk anymore,” he laughs at your pathetic whimpers and whines “Taking my cock like a good girl. Going to make sure you feel it until tomorrow.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck panting, mumbling “please” over and over again against his skin. Your tits are pressed against him, sensitive nipples rubbing against the dusting of dark hair on his chest with every movement. The burning knot in your stomach is threatening to come undone.

“You’re gonna cum for me, princesa?” he said as his thrusts grow frantic. “Wanna feel your pussy milk my cock dry. She’s so greedy for my cum. Sucking me in so good I can’t even try to pull out.”

You arch your back as you feel your orgasm rip through you, making you see white for a second. Miguel catches you, an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders to keep you from falling over as he keeps on rutting into you to chase after his own climax. He pulls you closer to him to capture your mouth into a kiss as you feel his hot cum coat your velvety walls. You moan against his lips, giving his tongue access to your mouth, making you melt in his arms.

You reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He coos at how absolutely wrecked you looked, the pretty makeup you did for him all smeared and messed up. The red of your lipstick is no longer on your lips but all over Miguel – on his lips, cheeks, neck, chest, trailing all the way down to the red ring near the base of his cock.

Miguel sets you down on the dining table, hands keeping your knees apart to watch his cum dripping out of your sloppy hole. Your hands grab your breasts, squeezing them together for his viewing pleasure. Miguel moans at the sight. You are so perfect to him.

“I’m going to see your dad again in the office tomorrow,” he says, kneeling in front of your spread legs, ready to eat his dessert. He licks his lips and rubs his large hands up and down your thighs “I’m sure he’s going to have questions. I’ll make sure to tell him how good you were, taking care of me and making me feel so much better.”

He was about to dive in when the doorbell rang. You hear him growl a string of Spanish curse words under his breath as he reluctantly stands up from where he was kneeling. He tries to calm down and you sit up to wipe the sweat and lipstick off his face. You help him put on his shirt, straightening it out as much as you can with your hands as he tucks away his half-hard cock in his sweatpants. You brush his messy hair back away from his forehead, trying to make him look presentable for when he answers the door.

“I’ll be quick,” he sighs, kissing you on your temple as he pulls away and walks out the room. You can’t help but be a little curious as to who is looking for Miguel this late in the evening. You try to stand up, snatching the silk robe you were wearing earlier to peek at the visitor when you hear an all too familiar voice echo in the halls.

“Miguel! You look like shit!” The loud booming voice of your father makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over?” Miguel said, trying to act normal as you hear him letting your dad in. “You should’ve called.”

“Well I did try to but neither you nor my daughter were answering,” he said “Anyway where is she? I brought you guys your favorites for dinner. I’ll even set up the dinner table for you.”

That got you to snap back to reality. Shit, shit, shit!

You start running to your room, careful not to leave a trail of Miguel’s cum on the floor. You try to wash off any traces of sex with a quick shower and change into a simple shirt and unfortunately with a bra and shorts on this time. Can’t have your dad know you parade around the house half-naked for a man twice your age.

Downstairs, Miguel’s boner is fully killed. He didn’t even get to clean you up with his tongue. Shame. Your dad is talking about work stuff but he’s only half-listening. He helps him set the table for your second dinner of the evening, not able to turn down his best friend lest he gets suspicious. He eyes a few white drops on the table and reluctantly wipes it with the hem of his shirt. His eyes meet yours as you enter the room, drying your hair with a towel. You give him a tight-lipped smile before going in to greet your dad.

You have an okay dinner together: Your dad did most of the talking, which is usually what happens between him and Miguel anyway. He also is still under the impression that Miguel was actually sick so he got a pass. You however have to pretend you aren’t annoyed that the night you planned is ruined as you answer his questions about uni.

“No boys? Partners? I told Miguel not to let you bring any around,” he says smugly to which Miguel smirks, taking a sip of the whisky your dad brought over.

“Dad, please,” you groan, sliding down on your chair, which makes him laugh out loud. You steal a glance at Miguel, pouting, and he’s laughing along. Traitor.

“I just wanted to be sure my baby’s focusing on her studies,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender before adding “and that I don’t end up a grandpa too soon.”

They keep laughing but thankfully, Miguel changes the topic. You give him a look of relief and rub your foot on his leg as a silent thank you. He keeps talking to your dad, pretending not to feel your foot stray further up until it rests on his inner thigh, the tip of your toe toying with the outline of his cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn’t stop you. He instead moves to sit a little closer to the table so you can rub the sole of your foot against his clothed length.

You’re playing a dangerous game. Your dad is right there he could look under the table and find his precious daughter giving his best friend a footjob in front of the dinner and alcohol he so graciously brought over. But you were feeling petty about your ruined plans and Miguel doesn’t seem to mind the attention to his cock.

You bite your lip, feeling his cock harden under your touch. He must feel sticky and uncomfortable under his sweatpants after not being able to wipe his dick of your combined fluids when your dad barged in. You wish your dad decides to leave early so you could get on your knees for Miguel and lick him clean.

Miguel eventually excuses himself, coughing that he needs to go to the bathroom, probably to jerk off and shower. You start clearing up the table and your dad offers to help.

“So,” he starts wiping the table “I see the way you look at Miguel.”

You freeze, trying not to drop the stack of plates you’re holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You start loading the dishwasher, trying not to make it obvious that your hands are shaking.

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I know what I saw,” he says “And I mean, you’re a young single lady and Miguel is this handsome, cool, older guy that’s a constant in your day-to-day. It’s not wild to have a crush on him. I’m just…”

Silence.

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt when he doesn’t return your feelings,” he sighs as he leans his hip on the counter next to you. He’s trying to look you in the eyes, trying to let you know that he’s being sincere. “Believe me that man has no time for romance. He’s all busy with his work. Plus I’ve seen the women he slept with before. All supermodel looking and yet… well they never last long.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, dad,” you roll your eyes at him, trying hard to ignore the feeling of wanting to throw up. You don’t want to think about that. About the specifics of what you and Miguel have going on. You’re just trying to enjoy Miguel’s attention right now. For the longest time, you didn’t even think you had the chance. Is it really that bad to just accept what he’s willing to give right now?

“I’m not saying you’re not beautiful, honey! Of course, you’re beautiful! You’re my daughter,” he tries to lighten the mood but turns serious when you don’t laugh. “Just might not be his type. Besides, he’s twice your age. He's too close to your old man’s age. Are you sure that’s something you’d like? In a few years, he’d be just as uncool as me while you’re still young and should be enjoying your life.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You both stay silent for a few moments. You think about Miguel and try to look for signs. Signs that say he just wants sex or that he wants something more. All you can think about is how sweet he always was with you even before you had sex. Even more now. You blush remembering how Miguel peppered your face with kisses this morning to wake you up because he wanted to cook breakfast but didn’t want to leave you in bed.

“Okay, but what if he does?” you countered, suddenly gaining a bit of confidence. “Would you be okay with that? If we get into a relationship?”

A painful few seconds of silence that felt like forever.

“I know that look in your eyes,” he finally says, shaking his head, and sighing. “It’s your “I’m going to get what I want” look you got from your mom. You’re gonna get hurt.”

You cross your arms and pout, never one to back down.

“And if he does end up liking you,” he starts again and you side-eye him “well… good thing he doesn't.”

You groan as your dad messes up your hair, laughing as he sees Miguel come back, fresh from his shower. Your dad finally decides it’s time to head out and let the sick man rest. He gives you a tight hug and a kiss on your forehead before leaving.

You’re left alone with Miguel again in the kitchen. The earlier conversation with your dad soured your mood and left you zoning out. Miguel slips himself between your parted legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, large, warm hands kneading your thighs, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“What’s on your mind, princesa?” He leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Tell me.”

You try to turn away but he brings a curled finger under your chin to make you face him. His brows are furrowed, worried. You try to look at him and your heart stutters. You don’t want whatever you have with him to end. You’re not sure if you actually want something serious with Miguel but the thought of just being a bedwarmer to Miguel is upsetting.

“Just thinking,” you start, trying to get the words out without sounding jealous or spiteful “My dad said you used to date? Sleep around with? Whatever. The girls you were with before were all… supermodel looking. They’re probably tall and skinny and drop-dead gorgeous huh? Is that your type?”

“And where is this going, nena?” Miguel whispers, pulling away and giving you a stern look.

“Well, I’m just not like that?” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips and shying away from his gaze. “I don’t know why you gave me the chance. I’m just-”

Miguel’s gentle touch on your chin turns into him gripping your cheeks, making you shut up. You nervously look at him, a deep frown on his face.

“Don’t you ever put yourself down, cariño,” he says, his eyes sharp. He makes you keep your eyes on him while he uses his other hand to pull you closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “You know, at the start, I offered to let you stay here just because I wanted to mentor you when I had the time. I know you’re a brilliant girl, so intelligent, following in your dad’s footsteps. What I didn’t expect is for you to consume my thoughts day and night for the past few months. You’ve grown into such a beautiful lady, cariño. You are such a temptation, making me think about your pretty eyes looking up so innocently at me. Those lips tempt me every single time you pout at me to get your way.”

He growls, finally letting go of your face to move his hands to your ass. He suddenly bucks his hips against yours making you gasp out loud, your clothed cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. You try to move your hips to gain friction on your throbbing cunt but he keeps you still.

“Don’t even get me started on this body of yours,” he buries his face at the crook of your neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the sensitive flesh making your head roll to the side to give him more access “So perfect for me. Made for me to grab, to fuck, to worship. Dios mio, nena, I can’t get enough of you.”

He sounds drunk from your scent and taste, mouthing at your neck, hands kneading your flesh. He grabs handfuls of the soft fat of your thighs, your ass, your tummy rolls, your plump tits, and back down, committing each curve to memory. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure when he laps at your pulse with his skillful tongue.

“So I don’t wanna hear any of that nonsense comparing yourself to women I didn’t care about then and I sure don’t care about now,” he growls as he picks you up and flips you around. He bends you over the counter, stomach against the cold marble top and the rounded edges digging at the tops of your thighs. Your feet can’t quite reach the floor so you settle for trying to wrap your legs around Miguel’s own. He yanks your shorts and panties down to your knees in one aggressive motion.

“My silly beautiful girl getting jealous over old flings and exes,” he hummed, his large hands massaging your ass, kneading the cheeks, spreading them with his thumbs. “They’re not here anymore, are they? Didn’t work out with them and they’re not in my life anymore. And I prefer it that way.”

You feel him spit on your hole, dripping down to mix with your own wetness. You drop your head onto the countertop, the heated skin on your face making the marble feel icy. He takes your wrists, securing your hands behind your back with his own large hand while his other still massages your ass. Your eyes flutter, enjoying the sensation when you hear a loud smack cut through the momentary silence.

“Mig-” you yelp as you feel a sharp sting on your right ass cheek. His hand goes back to massaging, trying to soothe your reddened skin. You whine as he gives your other cheek the same treatment. Two matching red handprints bloom on both your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be listening to your dad about my type when I was much younger,” he says, his voice low and serious as he leans down to press his sculpted chest on your back “Because right now there’s nothing I want more than this pequeña prinscesa whose toes can't even reach the floor when I bend her over the kitchen counter. You love that too don't you? How I’m much bigger than you? How easily I can carry you around, bend you over, and fuck you whenever I want? Love folding you in half and using your pretty pussy- no, my pretty pussy. This is mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed. Isn’t that right?

You nod enthusiastically not trusting your voice to speak. the words he growls at your ear going straight to your cunt. You feel another hard smack go down your ass, the impact making you slide a bit on the counter. His hands pull you back by the waist to press his erection against your dripping cunt, your wetness soaking through his sweatpants.

“Use your words when you answer me, nena,” he growls, grinding himself against your folds. The friction from the fabric of his sweatpants feels heavenly against your puffy folds.

“Yessss,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him “all yours. Need you to fuck this pussy please, please, please!”

“How can I say no when my baby girl is begging so nicely?” he coos, pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock. He takes it in his hand and presses the tip in. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your velvety walls welcome him back, still stretched out from your earlier activities.

“Perfect,” Miguel groans as he wastes no time to fuck into your slutty little hole that’s sucking him in so lewdly. “Made for me. Mi princesa needs to learn that no one can compare to her. She’s so perfect. And she’s mine. Only mine. And I am hers.”

“Yo-urs– M-ah, Miguel,” you whimper as he keeps hitting all the right places, his tip hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust until you’re once again pushed over the edge of sweet release. Your gummy walls contract, milking Miguel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He follows shortly after with a deep moan, his cock coating your insides with his warm seed.

Miguel makes no move to pull out. Instead he peppers your shoulders and neck with kisses, humming in contentment, whispering sweet endearments. Your heart fills with warmth and before you could even think about it, the words just leave your mouth.

“I love you, Miguel”

Silence. Anxiety starts to bubble in your chest as you start to think that you’ve read all the signs wrong. But before you could take it back, Miguel turns you to lie on your back, facing him. He leans down to capture your lips in his, his hands pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d leave if he lets go. He mumbles “I love you” against your lips over and over again for the rest of the night making sure you never doubt his feelings for you ever again.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara #potchy-writes #dbf!miguel #dad's best friend miguel ohara #dilf miguel ohara

218 notes · View notes

forest-hashira · 2 days

Text

this absolutely would not leave me alone, in reference to this post. @fushigurro thank u for supporting/enabling me. divider by cafekitsune. this is omegaverse, mentions of heat cycles/sex but nothing explicit. minors dni.

it had been a few days since your synced heat with satoru had ended, and though it hadn't actually lasted longer than normal, it had felt like it, neither of you able to get the kind of relief you really needed. you'd given yourselves a day to sober up and recover, and then you'd had a much dreaded conversation.

you'd been everything to each other since you'd gotten together straight out of school. in all that time, you'd never needed anyone else for anything, even able to get each other through your heats with a little help from some toys. but this had been a brutal wake up call, a reminder that there were some things you'd never be able to do for each other, no matter how hard you tried.

it was unsettling to realize, though, and the following realization that you would have to find someone else to trust in your most vulnerable moments was downright scary. a new partner couldn't be just anyone, especially not if they were going to help both of you when you needed it. in fact, there was only one person either of you could imagine trusting with that.

and so you set up a coffee date.

"you feelin' okay, baby?" satoru's gentle voice pulled you from your mental spiral, and you offered him a weak smile.

"what makes you ask?" you set your drink down on the table, unable to stomach anything because of your anxiety.

"your leg has been bouncing nonstop since we sat down." he peered at you over the tops of his sunglasses, leaning in to rest his forehead against your temple. "it's all gonna be fine, you know that, right?"

"unless he hates us for asking this of him and decides he never wants to speak to us again." you weren't expecting the laugh your words drew from him, and you pinched his side harshly. "don't laugh at me! it's not impossible..."

you could practically feel him roll his eyes at you. "he's not gonna hate us," he soothes, the faintest hint of a purr rumbling beneath his words, easing some of the tension in your shoulders. "i doubt he'll say no, either. he's had a thing for you for years."

"he has not!" you turned and looked up at him, wide-eyed.

satoru cocked his head slightly, seeming genuinely surprised. "he has too! he told me once when we were drunk, before we all graduated and you and i got together. you didn't know?"

"of course i didn't know! he never said anything to me. i knew he was in love with you, though."

it was satoru's turn to look shocked. "you're lying to me."

"i am not! we all saw the way he looked at you. it was obvious."

your boyfriend seemed to pale at your words, as impossible as it was. "for how long?"

"from the very first day i met you guys. he still looks at you like that, y'know."

"who looks at satoru like what?"

suguru's voice startled both of you, and you looked up at him with burning faces. the alpha's brows pinched with concern as he sat across the table from the two of you. satoru pushed a black coffee towards him, but it went untouched as he spoke again.

"are you guys okay? you said you needed to ask me something important. is something wrong?"

you and satoru exchange a look, your omega offering you an encouraging nod.

"sort of," you sighed after a moment. "we, uh. well. our heats synced last week, and it sucked. like it was really bad."

suguru nodded, worry still painted across his features. "even with each other and..." he trailed off, glancing around as if remembering you were in a public place, and that it was probably not a great idea to talk openly about sex toys.

"yeah, even with that," you confirmed. "it was really, really miserable, and we really don't want to be caught off guard if our cycles ever sync like that again. which is why we asked you here."

now he really looked confused. "i don't think i understand."

"we need an alpha," satoru replied, his blunt nature a true blessing in that moment. "and you're the only one we trust to help us – to take care of us."

there was a beat of silence, then another. your heart began to pound, and you felt a bit sick all of a sudden. because this was it, wasn't it? your best friend outside of your partner was about to tell you both that you were disgusting simply for asking, and that he never wanted to hear from you ever again. he was—

"oh, uh... really?" there was no mistaking the flustered look on your friend's face, and that surprised you; he was usually so confident. "yeah, of course. i'm honored you trust me like that. anything you need, just let me know. i'll be there for you."

the relief that washed over you was so intense it nearly made you dizzy, and you were certain you would've collapsed if you weren't already sitting down. "you don't wanna take some time to think about it?"

he shook his head. "don't need to. if it means helping you guys, the answer's always going to be yes."

"whipped for us already, huh?" satoru teased, attempting to maintain his composure despite his face being the prettiest shade of pink.

the smile that tugged at suguru's lips was affectionate, his gaze warm as he took in the two of you across from him. "yeah," he agreed softly. "something like that."

#trying to get out of the habit of apologizing for posting things that are “outside” what i usually post so. i'm not sorry!#(is shaking & gripping the sink)#fallon's fics #cw omegaverse #tw omegaverse #satosugu #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nobody look at me rn idk where this came from

149 notes · View notes

hayakawalove · 16 hours

Text

I'd Wait For You

Summary: Everything is perfect between you and Suguru. It could not get any better. The universe has a funny way of doing things though. How do you cope once Suguru gets taken away from you? Will Suguru be able to move onto the afterlife, or will he stay by your side? A/N: I wanted to try my hand at writing angst. Haven't done it too much. Please ignore the inaccuracies of the medicine, it won't be perfect. Comments always appreciated!

CW: SFW, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death (not reader), Grief/Mourning, Afterlife, Depression, Medical, Car Accidents, Sad, Fucked up but honestly not too bad

W/C: 6,584

Suguru hadn’t known love until he first met you.

Everything that led up to you was somehow minuscule compared to the emotions that coursed through his veins whenever he saw you. He wasn’t aware of how fast a heart could beat, how his lungs could falter from merely being in the presence of another person. He wasn’t even quite sure what he’d done to achieve someone like you. We were made for each other, you always told him. In his opinion, he believed he was made for you. Crafted and designed to love you. Not because you needed to have someone like him, but because he needed someone like you. Someone to care for and love.

It was your birthday, and just like he had done every year before this, Suguru was planning on making your dinner. He liked doing it, it made him feel like he was doing something right. It was the least he could do for you, after everything you’ve done for him. He thinks you don’t even know the half of it.

“Shit.” Suguru murmurs under his breath as he searches the freezer. He could have sworn he bought the meat for tonight, but it was nowhere to be found.

“Did you find it yet?” He hears your voice call from the couch.

He doesn’t really have the heart to tell you that no, he hadn’t found it. His lip twitches as he pushes aside all the useless ingredients, looking in places he had already checked three times over.

Suguru is so focused on the fridge in front of him that he doesn’t even hear your feet padding into the kitchen.

Tender hands wrap around him from behind, yanking him from his despair. When he looks over his shoulder he sees you behind him, peeking over with curious eyes.

“I'm sorry baby.” He speaks quietly, turning around to the fridge again.

He shuts the freezer and faces you, taking you into his arms. It’s nice like this, having you pushed up against him. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you.

“What’re you sorry for?” You ask.

You reach your hands up and place a palm on either side of his face. Your mouth drops open as you hold him.

“Suguru, you’re freezing.” You scold. “How long were you looking in there?”

He hadn’t realized how cold he was until your warm fingers pressed into his cheek. He nuzzles against you and allows his lids to flutter closed, indulging in the warmth you provide.

“Only a little bit.” He says. He would rather die than tell you he’s been here for ten minutes.

“No luck though, huh?” You don’t seem sad when you ask this, and Suguru can’t figure out why.

He feels like he ruined your birthday.

“Unfortunately no, but I’m gonna go head down to the store to pick it up. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“I don’t want you to go, though!”

You have an exaggerated frown playing on your lips as you tug his arm.

“Baby, you need food. I promise it’ll be-“

“Why don’t we go out to eat?” You propose.

He’s looking at you with raised brows, watching partly in amusement. It wasn’t an awful idea, but he much rather preferred to cook for you himself. It was like a gift that way, although he bought you plenty of those too. He nearly felt giddy at the idea of how you would react to each present, all hiding in various places around the house. You always told him he didn't have to get you anything, so he had to get creative in his hiding spots.

“What, you hate my cooking?” He jokes, pulling back to straighten your clothes.

At first you would snap at him when he mindlessly groomed you like this, but you had gotten used to it. It was just another avenue for him to show his love, fixing your attire like a mother would.

“Ugh, it’s the worst!” You joke back.

Both of you were well aware of how much you loved his cooking.

“A shame.” He murmurs.

“We never go out, it’s been ages since we’ve gone somewhere nice. Don’t you think it would be fun? That way, you wouldn’t have to slave over the stove for me.”

“But what if I want to slave over the stove for you?”

“There will always be another time.” You squeeze his arm.

You’re right. He can always do it for you for your next birthday.

“If you say so.” Suguru presses his lips against yours.

~~~

It’s a chilly night, the black sky above you providing no heat as you head out of the restaurant. You’re cradling your stomach as if you were 8 months pregnant, while one of your arms is wrapped around his. You’re chattering his ears off, but Suguru doesn’t mind. The night felt perfect, he wasn’t sure how it could get any better.

The two of you are making your way to your parked car, not in a rush. You have all the time in the world. You’re strumming his hand as you talk, only letting go when he pulls your door open for you.

Suguru crosses the car and slides into the driver's seat, not backing out until your seat belt is on. The drive is calming, your windows rolled down to let in the night air as you quietly sing along to the radio.

“Was it a good birthday?” Suguru asks, tossing a look your way before focusing on the road.

“It was perfect.” You promise, your eyes twinkling.

Suguru starts to think about which gift he wants you to open first.

“Hey Suguru?” You ask.

“Yeah?” Suguru looks up from the wheel to see your face.

Your brows are furrowed together as you look forward. Something wasn’t right.

“What is that guy doing?” You speak quietly.

Suguru turns his head forward, his foot on the brake as the car sits at a red light. There’s another car in front of you, driving towards you. He isn’t slowing down for the light, and Suguru can feel his pulse pick up.

“I don’t-“ Suguru starts.

The driver presses on the gas even harder, his car jerking, now hurdling in your direction. Suguru only has half a second to throw his arm across your front, shoulder covering part of your body.

…

Love makes you do crazy things.

Love can make you feel unstoppable.

Love can make you cover your partner in a car accident without a second thought.

The movies never get it right, Suguru thinks. People always talk about the pain, how much it hurts. But Suguru doesn’t feel pain. He doesn’t feel anything. He wishes it was more accurate, that way he could have been prepared.

It was loud, so loud.

Metal on metal, tires screeching. It also smelled. Gas, fire, and burning something. Was it plastic? He had never smelled something so atrocious. Suguru turns his head to locate you and sees you motionless, your beautiful lids fluttered shut. Is that blood? Something’s reflecting on your forehead and he hopes to god it’s not blood.

He attempts to say your name, but nothing comes out. It’s as if his voice box has been completely removed, leaving a gaping hole in his throat. His fingers twitch as he tries to move to help you.

Move, move.

He’s begging his useless body to do something, anything. It’s never cooperated with him, lest of all when he needs it most.

Suguru thinks he hears yelling. Was that a woman? It’s a voice he’s never heard before, and she’s saying something he can’t quite decipher. His head is spinning as he tries to focus on the voice, but it isn't easy. It's all becoming overwhelming, each of his senses being amplified. The sight and sound alone was enough to leave him breathless.

Red lights.

Cops.

No, not cops.

An ambulance.

He hopes it’s an ambulance. You really needed one.

Suguru tries to focus as he strains his ears to listen for your breathing. He could feel his eyelids get heavier and heavier, his sheer willpower being the only thing keeping him awake. There’s more tires screeching and the ambulance has arrived, heavy footfalls running to your car.

Good.

Help is here.

It would all be alright.

Everything would be fine.

~~~

When his eyes open, he sees white. He must have been in a hospital, the clinical setting surrounding him. No one was in his room. Not even you. You were in worse shape from what he remembers, so he understands.

He isn’t in as much pain as he would’ve expected from being in a car accident, but he’s glad. Suguru looks down and wiggles his fingers, then his toes. Good. He isn’t missing anything. He knows you would’ve taken care of him if he was missing something, but he would rather soon die than make you do something like that.

Suguru sits up and notices he isn’t attached to any monitors, which is odd. He figures he probably didn’t need them though, so he quickly pushes the thought aside. He might as well look for you since he was able. You could have been really hurt, and he wouldn’t have been able to rest until he learned where you were.

The hospitals halls are a scary place, even for Suguru. He knows many great things happen in hospitals, but there’s also a lot of tragedy too. He tries not to think about all the death as he walks down the halls. There are nurses and doctors pushing past him, paying him no mind. They were busy. He could see it in their droopy eyes as they locate room numbers and run to codings.

He finds the nurses station and speaks up, finding two women sitting at the desks.

“Excuse me?” He says.

Nothing.

Weird.

“Uh, I’m looking for someone.”

Suguru says your name, but neither of them turn to him.

Okay, maybe they were too engrossed in their conversation.

His eyes flick down where he sees a chart, and at the very top of the list was your name. Room A93. That wasn’t too far from here.

He spares them one last glance before turning around to locate your room. His heart flutters (not in the good way) when he gets closer to the door. Could he handle seeing you hooked up to a million monitors? Could he handle seeing other people take care of you? Suguru pushes through it. He needs to see you. He comes to a stop outside your room and hears voices coming from inside, talking to you.

“And where is Suguru?” He picks up on your voice, the sound instantly warming his heart.

“He’s… not in good shape.”

He wasn’t?

He felt great.

Suguru pokes his head around the door and finds a tall woman with tanned skin and long dark hair. She must be the doctor.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

The doctor straightens, tired eyes looking up at you.

“He was intubated, he lost a lot of blood and sustained a head injury. My team had to put him in a medically induced coma. I actually was coming here to talk to you about whether or not he wanted to be on life support.”

What?

“I'm sorry, what are you talking about?” Your body is turned towards her, anticipation leaking from your pores.

“You’re married, aren’t you? I trust that the two of you have gone over it?”

You haven't looked his way, not even once.

“Let me see him.” You’re sitting up, wobbling as your frail body attempts to hold you up.

You don’t see him right now?

“I'm not sure that’s a good idea.” The doctor comments, her voice heavy as if she knows something you don’t.

“Please.”

The doctor softly sighs and dips her head once, acknowledging your desperation. She relents, aiding you in getting up. You can’t do it on the first try, your face wincing in pain as you ease yourself off the bed. The doctor is patient as she helps you, because of course she is.

Suguru follows you to his room, throat dry as he stares at the IV stand in your hands. What was happening?

“Suguru?” His heart shatters at the way your voice cracks.

He turns the door and comes to a halt behind you, looking over your shoulder. He was looking at himself. His motionless body was laying in the hospital bed, looking more helpless than he had ever felt in his whole life.

“What happened?” You ask, your eyes never leaving his bed.

“There was an accident. I was told that he took the brunt of the crash to cover you. He’s not…” The doctor looks anxiously between you and him. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

The room is quiet, eerily so as you process the news the doctor gave you. There’s a steady beeping sound coming from behind his body, the only sign of life. By all accounts, he looked dead. Suguru flicks his eyes up and notices a brain monitor attached to him, but the line was flat. How was that possible? Was he in some space between life and death right now?

You rip the IV from your arm and run up to the bed, collapsing beside his body. Suguru can see blood begin to pool from your forearm, dark red trickling down your wrist as you force yourself against his bed.

“Suguru! Wake up!” You’re shaking his body, voice trembling and loud as tears begin to fall from your eyes.

He doesn’t wake up. His useless body doesn’t even flinch.

“You asshole! Wake up!” You’re in hysterics as you shake him, and Suguru feels himself choke on a tear.

“We need to discuss-“ The doctor starts.

“Don’t do this to me! You gotta wake up!”

Suguru is beside you now, standing above your crumbled form. You’ve never looked so small before. Your tears are staining the sheets beside his body as you hold his hand, your other arm clawing at his chest. Suguru can’t tell which hurts more, watching himself or looking at you.

He needs to comfort you.

He needs to make you smile.

But he can’t. He can’t do anything. Suguru is forced to stand by your side as you cry until you lose your voice, until all of your words blur together and no one can understand what you’re saying.

The doctor stays with you the entire time, remaining quiet as you sob. She wanted to comfort you, but she also needed an answer. And the truth of the matter was, Suguru never wanted to be on life support. It was a discussion you had early on in your marriage. He didn't want to be a burden. You respected his decision at the time, never in a million years thinking you would have to uphold his choice.

~~~

It’s raining the day they pull the plug on Suguru. He always did like the rain. It made for perfect nights in with a warm drink and his favorite book. Obviously with you by his side. That’s not what he’s thinking about when he sees the sky the day he dies. All he can think about is how your tears match the droplets, how god must be crying for you. He hated it. You said it was fitting. It was one of the only things you said on that day.

Suguru watches as his body gets whisked away, he told himself he couldn’t watch the embalming process, but when it happens he can’t look away. It felt unreal. His body was cold to the touch, pale as it lay on the metal table. He didn't look real. He watches with curious eyes as they pump him full of fluids in an attempt to immortalize his youth and beauty. He overhears the morticians talking. Not even thirty years old, they mumble. All Suguru can think about is how you weren’t even thirty. The word ‘widow’ was meant for older people whose partners died in natural circumstances, not for someone like yourself. Plump cheeks and a full life ahead of you.

It’s sunny when his funeral is held. He’s glad for that, he dreaded the idea of you waiting out in the cold. You sit in the front with Satoru. Suguru expected you to be a wreck, you were at the hospital after all. But you aren’t. You sit quietly as each person speaks, your chin tucked into your chest. Your eyes are glassy as you listen. You were checked out. He wanted to take a peek into your brain to see what memory you were reliving. Was it the time you both vacationed in the Bahamas? Or was it when you talked for hours about your favorite book? Those were his favorite memories, but he didn't know yours. He never thought to ask before. Now he wouldn’t have the chance to.

You refuse to let anyone help you make it home, I’m fine you said. You weren’t fine. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. All the people surrounding you tried to offer words of comfort, promises to help falling from their lips. You wave them off as you set off down the sidewalk towards your apartment. You hadn’t been in a car since the incident.

The second you close your front door you collapse onto your floor, your knees hitting the ground with a hard thud. You let out the most ear piercing wail. Suguru didn’t know people were capable of making noises like that. He didn’t have a body anymore, but he swore he felt chills creep over his skin.

You keep screaming, and screaming, and screaming. Suguru hears a loud pounding and turns his head to the door. Someone was here. The pounding resumes and he hears his best friend call out, trying to get your attention. You aren’t listening. You don’t care about anything outside these four walls.

Satoru twists the knob hoping by some miracle it would unlock. Unfortunately, you had the foresight to lock the door before falling to pieces. Satoru relents in using the knob and tries bumping the door with his shoulder. It takes him a couple of tries before it splinters open. He's out of breath as he looks down at your figure. Your crumpled figure.

Leave it to Satoru to follow you to ensure you got home safely. Suguru tells himself to repay Satoru, buy him that soda he likes, but then he remembers. He will never be able to repay him for anything again.

He hopes a token of his gratitude is enough.

You don’t register that Satoru is even there until he’s kneeling beside you, holding your body close to his. You thrash a bit, shoving him back but he doesn’t budge. Satoru takes it all, even though it hurts.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” He murmurs quietly to you.

“He's gone! He's gone!” You’re heaving into the air, letting him rock you back and forth.

“I know. I know.”

“He's never coming back, Satoru!”

You breathe in deeply, your chest sore from the meltdown.

“Bring him back! Please, please Satoru!”

Satoru grits his jaw as he holds you tight. It must be hard. Suguru mourns the loss of himself through you. He can feel the pain you’re in, it feels like a forest fire as it claws into him.

You’re scratching at Satoru, as if you could dig your way back to Suguru.

Suguru has never felt so helpless before. How do you help someone when they’re mourning the loss of the love of their life? How do you console them when they will never see them again? How could he make you feel better?

He can’t do anything. He's an outsider in his own home, watching the people who were closest to him.

Satoru grips you as you sob, occasionally rocking your frame back and forth. He doesn’t say anything. There really isn't anything to say. The living room quiets down as your screaming becomes sniffling. Suguru doesn’t know how much time has passed. Satoru refuses to let go until he feels your breathing slow down, your body going limp in his hold.

Satoru never leaves. He just sets you on your bed before making his way to the couch. He looks just as fucked up as you do. Suguru doesn’t think he’s ever seen his friend in such a bad state before. Eyes that had previously been so bright were now dull, his lips tugged down into a deep frown. Satoru slides onto the couch, his eyes shutting the second he makes contact.

Suguru takes turns watching the two of you sleep. It breaks his heart. Never again will he feel the warmth of your sleeping figure beside him. Never again will he wake up before you to start your breakfast.

Things are awkward between you and Satoru in the morning. Neither of you know how to approach the subject.

Satoru is the first to talk. He always was the talker.

“Good morning.”

Your eyes flick to him, almost as if you were expecting him to stay the night. Satoru looks uncomfortable, which is a first.

“I uh, I'm gonna pick up breakfast. Do you want anything?” He goes on.

A moment passes before you speak. When your voice comes out it's brittle, harsh in a way Suguru has never heard before.

“I'm fine.”

The hours of screaming must have caught up to you.

“Yeah, alright.”

Satoru is scratching the back of his neck, a tell that Suguru learned years ago. He has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it.

“I really think you should eat something.”

“Satoru.”

Satoru steps back as if the tone of your voice wounded him.

“Okay. I’ll back off. I’ll bring back something for you to drink at least.”

Satoru doesn’t ask so you don’t have the chance to deny him. You watch as he exits your apartment, your gaze fixed on your broken door.

Satoru calls repairmen to handle the door while he’s out. It doesn’t take them long at all to fix the damage he dulled out the prior night.

When Satoru comes back he has two drinks and two bags in his hands. He bought something for you to eat in the end. Satoru rings the doorbell and waits for you.

You never come.

He knows you’re home, because where else would you be?

He stands there for thirty minutes before he takes the hint that you don’t want to be seen.

Suguru wishes he could curl up in on himself at the sight of his best friend looking so dejected as he leaves. Satoru was making an effort. Suguru doesn’t blame you though. He never could. If he was in your position, Suguru wouldn’t stop until the whole world around him was burned to the ground, he wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left.

Satoru comes back hours later to drop off dinner and notices that the bag of breakfast he left for you is still in the same place. You hadn’t touched it. He leaves dinner for you as well, hoping by some chance that you’ll actually eat something.

~~~

Satoru stands at your door, a bag in his hands as he tries to keep up a smile. Suguru can tell it’s a hard task, he’s always been able to look right through his best friend.

It had been two weeks since the funeral, and Satoru has stopped by every single day.

Satoru says your name again, rocking back on his heels. He’s been here for two hours. Suguru knows because he’s seen him check his phone five times. One of your neighbors comes out and greets Satoru, smiling once he gives her attention. The two had been acquainted because he had visited so often. Satoru didn’t mean to seduce the older woman, but it just came with the territory of being a beautiful man.

“Hey Ms. Nakamoto!”

“Hello sweetie.”

“I brought you something.” Satoru searches the bag he’s holding and produces a wrapped piece of chocolate.

Suguru knows Satoru didn’t bring it for her, but that he couldn't bear the thought of not giving her something.

“You’re so kind, Satoru.” Ms. Nakamoto squeezes Satoru’s shoulder before walking off, popping the chocolate in her mouth.

Satoru watches her leave with a smile plastered on his face. It feels genuine in the same way a waitress's smile is genuine when she’s working.

“Are you gonna let me in?” Satoru calls, resting his shoulder against the door.

You’re standing on the other side of the door, staring into the wood as if you’d be able to see Satoru if you look hard enough.

Suguru doesn’t understand why would don’t want to see Satoru.

He wonders if it’s because Satoru reminds you of him. Suguru would understand, the two have always been inseparable. It was never that way for you, though. You never saw Satoru and thought of Suguru in the past. It was one of the many things he liked about you. He felt like he could be his own person around you. He wonders if the lines are blurred now that he was gone.

“I know you’re there.” Satoru says, leaning against his forearm.

“Why won’t you let me in?” He waits for a moment until you respond.

“I don’t want to.”

“I brought snacks.”

“I don’t care.”

Suguru’s heart breaks. You look like a mess, your hair was piled on top of your head and you were wearing the same clothes you had been wearing yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It was one of Suguru’s shirts, the clothing wrapped around your body as if it was a cocoon. You had been wearing it for so long that the smell of his cologne was starting to fade away. You cried for four hours the night you realized.

Neither of you talk or move for that matter, intent on waiting it out to see who would break first. You have something on your mind, Suguru can tell you’re holding back.

“Why did he do it?” You ask, your voice muffled through the door.

You know Suguru as much as Satoru does, but Suguru supposes there’s a sense of relief from the company.

“You know why he did it. He loved you.” Satoru responds, his voice more level than Suguru had ever heard it.

“He wouldn’t have been able to stand himself if he didn’t save you.” Satoru finishes.

You and Satoru both turn around and slide your backs against the door till your butts hit the floor.

You’re separated by a piece of wood, yet it feels like you’re miles away. Even though you felt so far apart, the two of you were the only ones on the planet who understood each other.

“He’s selfish.” You say, and Suguru thinks you mean to have a bite to it, but it comes off much more heartbroken.

“What makes him selfish?”

“He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he let me die, so he’s making me live without him instead. Why didn’t he care that it would hurt me?” You question.

Satoru’s silent as he listens. He’s good at that, although he talks a lot. Suguru is glad you have someone to talk to who listens when you need it.

“I think he did care.” Satoru says, looking at his legs. “He just loved you too much to stop himself.”

“It was my fault, you know.” You start.

“I was the one who suggested going out.”

Satoru is silent as he listens and Suguru feels like he’s been shot. You were blaming yourself? If Suguru could talk to you, he would reassure you that you had nothing to do with what happened.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Satoru says, unsure of how else to comfort you.

Nothing he could say would take the pain away, he was aware of that much.

Suguru is on your side of the door, watching as your lip starts to tremble. You must be sick of being alone. You slowly stand up and reach for the door, opening it much to Satoru’s surprise. He nearly falls back before hopping to his feet, facing you.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, knowing the answer.

~~~

Ever since the night you let Satoru in, you welcome him in. Suguru thinks it's nice, watching the two of you talk. He’s glad you’re opening up to someone. It’s not good to keep it all in, and Suguru couldn’t stand the idea of you shutting down completely.

In the beginning, Satoru would sit on the furthest end of the couch, but over time he slowly inched closer until the two of you were sitting next to each other. It didn't matter what you talked about. It was always different. Usually it was about Suguru.

“He waited until the sun set and it was dark out. I didn't really understand why. Anyway, he got on one knee and when I turned around he had the ring out.”

“It was because of the people I’m sure. Suguru was a private guy.”

You’re picking at a loose thread on the couch, quietly listening to Satoru.

“I helped him pick out the ring, you know. He was so indecisive. There were two options we narrowed it down to, he ended up asking all your friends what they thought you would like more.”

Suguru sees your shoulders shake and he thinks for a second you’re crying, but when you lift your head up he sees a tiny grin on your face.

“He’s ridiculous. Would’ve loved anything he got.”

“I know. He only wanted the best, though.”

Suguru loves to listen to the two of you talk, but he loves the silence you share just as much. Satoru always used to dread silence. Suguru thinks you’re bringing him down to earth. It’s nice. Suguru didn't think it was possible.

“It’s hard. I can't sleep.” You confess to Satoru late at night.

“Why is that?” Satoru asks, but you know he knows the answer.

“It’s impossible without him.”

You aren’t aware, but Suguru is there each time you lay down. Sometimes he’ll lay beside you, but he rarely does. You always get a chill when he tries, so instead he sits across the room, listening to your breathing. He’s always loved the sound, but he finds he appreciates it more so now.

“If you ever need company, I could spend the night on the couch again.”

“Really?”

You’re trying not to sound eager, Suguru can tell. He grins to himself as he watches your face light up.

“I'd just have to bring over spare clothes, but I can.”

People on the outside may think that something was blossoming between you and Satoru, but Suguru knew better. Satoru would never cross that line. At times, Suguru almost wished he would. He wanted you to find happiness again. And truly, who better to give it than Satoru? The two were so alike that Suguru knew you would be happy. But you wouldn’t do that to Satoru. You wouldn’t want him to feel like a placeholder. Suguru doesn’t know how Satoru feels, but he knows how you feel enough to be positive that nothing was starting between you.

Satoru sleeps on your couch that night. Suguru notices it’s the first time you’ve slept through the entire night in weeks. You don’t wake up even once, not even when Suguru slides into bed beside you.

Suguru keeps his eyes on you the whole night, mesmerized by the features on your face. You were so beautiful. He should’ve told you more often.

~~~

It was going okay. Suguru thought you were healing. One night you have a terrible nightmare. He watches you in horror as you thrash and scream, wishing he could reach out to touch you.

“Help! Help!”

Satoru is in your room moments later, holding your body against his. You twitch in his hold, body shaking in fear. Your eyes flutter open and you have to hold onto Satoru for several moments before you understand where you are.

“It was just a dream.” Satoru speaks quietly to you.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks once you understand what’s happening. You have a tight grip on Satoru’s arms, as if they could keep you from floating away.

“I was- Suguru, he, we needed,”

“It was just a dream.” Satoru says once more.

It wasn’t a dream, not really. It was the accident. The scenes were flashing in your brain, plaguing you with memories. Suguru wishes it was a dream. The worst was already over, only now you were left trying to pick up the pieces.

Satoru sleeps on your floor each night afterward. Always beside the bed, ready in case you have another nightmare. No matter what, he never leaves.

Each time you had a nightmare, Satoru would reach his hand up and squeeze yours, reminding you that the worst part was over. He pretends not to see the scars your fingernails leave in his skin.

~~~

Suguru watches as you experience life. Finding your first gray hair, he was even there when you bought your first new car. They were all things he should have been experiencing with you, if only he was alive.

If you asked Suguru the day he died if he regretted his decision to cover you in the accident, he would say no in an instant. It was the same now, all these years later.

You never move on from him, not really at least. There were men that passed through your life, but you never marry again.

Suguru wanted you to find love again, but you were always more stubborn than he knew what to do with.

And when the time came for you to pass, he was there too. The hospital room didn't feel the same as his did, yours was much more warm and happy. That was what it was supposed to be like when you lived a full life. All of your loved ones gathered around you, crying as they held you. You don’t cry. You’re ready. You’ve been preparing for it for a while now. You have weathered skin and a full heart. You have smile lines now, and Suguru thinks you’ve never looked more perfect.

Suguru stands by the door, watching as everyone says their goodbyes. He feels tears begin to drip from his eyes. He knows it only means he gets to see you sooner, but he’s mourning your death just as much as he would if he was alive. He wanted you to continue living. You still had so much to experience, Suguru wanted you to have it all.

The last member of your family leaves the room, but you have one visitor left. The doctor smiles at the visitor before pulling the door closed behind the two of you, giving you privacy.

“Thank you, darling.” Satoru says, smiling at her.

The door shuts and Satoru is hobbling over to you, lowering himself down next to your bed. He's in relatively good condition for someone of his age.

“Hello.” He squeezes your hand, if Suguru looks close enough he can still see the crescent shaped marks caused by your nails on his hands.

Scars proving your love of Suguru on another man’s body.

“You’re here.” You speak.

“Of course I’m here.”

The room is silent as Satoru takes in your presence. The air is heavy, partly from sadness, but also from the memories and love everyone had left you with. You had lived a long life.

“Are you excited to see him?” Satoru asks.

You look down and fiddle with your ring, the same ring Suguru had picked out all those years ago.

“I am.”

“When you see him tell him I said hi.” Satoru could say much more than that, maybe even a joke from his childhood, but more than anything he just missed his friend.

“I will, I swear.”

“I can’t believe the two of you are going before me.” Satoru’s messing with you now, Suguru walks closer so he can catch the glint in Satoru’s eyes.

“Don’t you worry, your time is coming.” You chuckle to yourself.

“Is that a threat?” Satoru leans in close to you, the act intimate in a way that only appears between friends that have endured years of life together.

“Maybe. I think I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.” You tease.

“I hope you do.” Satoru’s tone is heavier as he speaks, a nugget of honesty leaking through.

“Thank you for being so good to me Satoru, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you as much as you were there for me.” Regret is dripping from your words.

“I know you’re dying, but have you gone senile? You helped me as much as I helped you.” Satoru looks at you in disbelief.

It was true. You had helped Satoru. It wasn’t in the same way he helped you, but instead you provided him multiple chances to relive his childhood. That was worth more than anything in the world to Satoru.

Satoru rubs his thumb along your hand. He sits with you through the silence. He's there with you as the doctor comes back in, voice soft as she asks you if you’re ready. You are, you have been for a long time. Satoru holds your hand, he doesn’t leave as the doctor turns off all the technology that’s assisting you in staying alive.

Suguru would stay, but he has a date he can’t miss.

When you die, everything is empty around you. Your old body is inching by, walking aimlessly.

“Sweetheart.” A voice like velvet fills your ears.

You whip around, jaw and eyes wide open as you come face to face with the love of your life.

“Suguru!” You cry.

Suguru’s smile is relaxed on his face as he walks up to you, embracing you once more. He could finally touch you. He had been dreaming of this moment for years.

The second his skin hits yours, it's like a ripple effect. Your skin slowly rejuvenates, your body regressing until it resembles what it looked like the night he died. You were young again.

Suguru holds you for what feels like eternity before you pull away. He tries not to frown, reminding himself that he can touch you again whenever he feels like it now.

“I missed you!” Your lash line is holding on a thin thread, tears welling up, nearly pouring out.

Suguru doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t think he can put into words how much he missed you.

“Oh, and Satoru said-“

“Hi, I know. I heard him.” Suguru reaches a hand up and skims your cheek with his thumb.

He no longer feels cold.

“You heard him? You were there?”

“Of course I was. I always was.”

Suguru chuckles to himself at the expression on your face. It's a shock, for sure. You had no reason to believe he stayed with you. Suguru could have moved on at any point in time, but he wouldn’t. Not without you by his side.

“I love you.” He says it the same way he used to say it, and you finally break down.

Tears stream down your face as you pull him in for a kiss.

“Come on, let’s make up for all the lost time.” Suguru murmurs in your ear, wrapping his arm around yours.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

If you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know. Please specify what you want to be tagged in.

#my writing #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

125 notes · View notes

totalswag · 1 day

Note

the last anon gave me an idea, so I'm requesting you

How Drew asks actress y/n to go out on a date, without the friends, only with him this time? How the first date goes? How he/she confesses his/her feelings for each other, without kiss? I mean, we don't kiss at the first date, it's like "see you soon" right?

Also love ur writing! <3

first date gone well — DREW STARKEY

authors note ooo i really like your thinking! definitely see drew being the type to kiss maybe on the second or third date for sure. super sorry that your request is coming out late. so close to 900 followers!!

summary actress!reader and drew go on their first date.

warnings drinking, flirting, shyness, soft!drew

Drew and you exchanged numbers after the party. You haven't stopped texting each other since.

Drew asked you out on a date after a week of texting. He maintained an interest in getting to know you more, and you reciprocated. It's been a while since you've felt this way about a guy.

You were instructed to dress casually for dinner, since he is taking you to an Italian restaurant. There's a surprise at the end that he thinks you'll enjoy.

Drew knocks on the front door; you grab your belongings as you walk to unlock it. When you see each other, you both smile.

"Hey, how are you?" Drew asks, drawing you in for a tight hug; "You look really beautiful too," he says, pausing to admire you.

He smells so wonderful, holy moly!

Blushing so hard right now.

"I'm doing well, and thank you; you look handsome," you say, blushing quickly, hoping he doesn't notice how he's already influencing you, even though the date hasn't even begun.

By the time you arrived at the restaurant, Drew had parked his car and walked around to open the passenger door like a gentleman. He let you walk in front of him, placing his hand softly on your back as you entered.

Drew and you sat in a two-person booth near the bar. You both ordered a glass of champagne with a side of iced water. There were several options on the menu.

"This place is wonderful Drew, thank you," you exclaimed, your gaze fixed on everything in the restaurant.

He smiles, "I'm happy you like it. I was browsing for places to eat and remembered you saying this type of restaurant was your favorite, so I thought this would be an ideal spot to take you."

Everything in your body slid down to your feet. Knowing that he paid attention to every detail you told him indicates his character and good intentions. You felt your cheeks turn red and butterflies in your tummy.

The two of you spoke about work. At the moment you are starting to work on a new rom come movie; you cannot wait to start filming. Drew has been working on season four of Outer Banks and leaving in two weeks to film in Marco.

After dinner, Drew and you returned to his car. He let you choose the music for the short drive you were about to take. You plugged your phone to the car, scrolled through your playlists, and chose the more relaxed option.

Lana Del Rey, West Coast.

You begin humming the melody while closing your eyes and moving your head side to side.

Drew begins singing a few words, taking you off guard. You turn to face him, surprised that he is singing Lana Del Rey, one of your favorite artists.

"I didn't know you listen to Lana," you say out loud, pointing to the screen.

Drew grins, "Well, I have sisters who listen to her, and the more I listened, the more I liked her music," he adds as he turns the corner leading to downtown.

You feel yourself liking this man even more.

The two of you continue to discuss your favorite artists. Tonight you've learnt a lot about each other and will continue.

"Would you like to grab ice cream and take a nice walk on the beach?" Drew asks with a suggestive tone, secretly hoping you'd say yes to his question.

"That sounds like a good idea, I'd like that" you smile, "I love the beach so much, it's a safe place for me" you explain.

"The beach is somewhere to let go and relax your mind, no worries, no distractions, just peace and quiet" Drew replies.

"Exactly!"

Drew made careful to park near the ice cream business; there was a parking lot. It's going to be a busy Friday night in the summer. You both knew what you were getting into when you walked out together.

You walked close to each other, chatting rather than strolling silently. Throughout the evening, you found that you two can communicate without being awkward or bring up unexpected topics. You enjoy that about him.

A couple fans spotted you coming down the sidewalk and approached you for a photo. You politely snapped pictures and parted ways. They looked astonished to see you two out together.

"My favorite flavor is mint chip," you remark, pointing at the ice cream flavor through the glass.

"That's crazy you say that because thats my favorite flavor" Drew responds, smiling.

Drew paid for the ice cream, leaving a tip for the nice workers. You two could tell it made their day. They kindly asked for pictures too.

The sun began to set as you walked along the beach and ate your ice cream. The cool breeze, the sound of the waves, and the people looking out into the ocean; the scenery was breathtaking.

You pause to bring out your phone and take a couple photos of the scene in front of you. When you walk on the beach or visit the beach in general, you always take pictures.

When you arrived home, Drew walked you up to your front door.

"You know, I had a great night tonight, Y/N. "I'm glad you said yes to tonight and getting to know you better," Drew says, seeming anxious.

"I had a fantastic night, Drew, and you made it ten times better. You are quite something," you end your sentence in a flirtatious tone, hoping he will catch on.

Drew raises his brows in delight, smirking.

"Oh, really now?" "How about I take you out next week?" He speaks quietly, touching your free hand nearest to his.

"Yes, Drew." You are an excellent young gentleman who made me feel special today, and I would love to go out with you next week," you say, staring at his facial features and seeing how lovely he is standing in front of you on your porch.

"It was a pleasure tonight, Y/N; I'll text you when I get home." "Get some rest tonight, beautiful." He leans down and kisses your cheek before walking back to his car.

After closing and locking your door, you lean against the front door and reflect on what occurred tonight. You smile as you glide your body down onto the tile.

What an amazing night.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@diqldrunks @chenslucy @winterrrnight @rosezza @solanathascientst @runningfrom2am

121 notes · View notes

grimm-writings · 2 days

Note

YIPPEE YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN can i get a scenario where chilchuck slowly falls in love with a gender fluid reader? maybe he’s confused about their presentation at first, but then finds himself attracted to their masc and fem sides :0

two sides of the same coin

…ft! chilchuck x genderfluid! reader

…tags! fluff, end of manga spoilers, implied bisexual chilchuck, the mortifying ordeal of having to explain your identity to someone not in the know

…wc! 935

…notes! this request makes me so happy, because i’m also genderfluid!!! i’ll be using primarily my own experiences with my gender here, so i hope it’s to your liking! happy pride month!!! <3

“So, you’re… everything.”

“Yes! I guess you can say that. Although it’s more like it varies.” Your hands move in the air to communicate your point. “Sometimes I’m a girl, sometimes a boy. But I’m also sometimes both, or sometimes neither! Or maybe I’m partially a girl and partially neither, or I’m partially a boy and partially neither. And then, on the rare occasion, I am everything!”

You can only watch in real time as Chilchuck slowly loses brain cells. You’d fear that he may not be able to readily accept you, same as the rest of your party. The reaction was positive enough (though Marcille and Senshi particularly need time to adapt properly) but there’s still lingering confusion.

Chilchuck slowly nods, though you can tell he isn’t exactly grasping it yet. “So… What am I meant to call you?”

He’s trying to keep his language respectful. That’s more than you can say for others you came out to. You can tell Chilchuck is trying, even if this is unfamiliar ground for him. He might know enough about different romantic and sexual preferences, and maybe more simple means of gender transition. Your identity is… hard to explain to someone not in the know, though.

“Just ask,” you reply. “I might have some indicators in clothing that could help. Like…” You gesture towards your current outfit. “I’m presenting pretty masculine at the moment, yeah?”

“Yeah…” You don’t miss how Chilchuck eyes you up and down. “So I should keep an eye out for how you dress?”

“Precisely!” You snap your fingers into a point at Chilchuck’s face.

“Don’t do that.”

You drop your hand. “Sorry.”

Chilchuck leans back on his seat, folding his arms over his chest. If he was being honest, this only makes his heart confused. He was already more used to you presenting masculine throughout your dungeon crawl. You did express occasional disdain for your current dress, but can’t do much about it. That in of itself made him wonder if he liked guys. Now you’re saying you’re a girl sometimes? Or neither? Or everything? He can’t even imagine you in a dress without his mind screaming at him in embarrassment.

You take in Chilchuck’s expression. Brow furrowed, clearly trying to process your explanation. He’s definitely accepting of it, just confused. If there was a way you can explain it better to him…

An idea flashes through your mind with an “ah!”

Chilchuck perks up at your sudden yelp, blinking. “Something the matter? Wh– Hey, what are you doing?!”

You had practically scampered on all fours to where your travel bags were, digging around for something. A few seconds pass before… “GOT ONE!”

Returning to Chilchuck’s side, you hold up one of the gold coins in… someone’s possession. The half-foot cocks an eyebrow at it. “What’re you getting at here?”

“This coin is still the same coin when it’s flat in my hand like this,” you begin, before flipping it over. “Or when it lands on tails.”

Chilchuck watches as you place the coin on your thumb, and flip it up into the air only to let it land randomly, 50/50 chance each time.

“I can’t control whether it lands on heads or tails. Sometimes it does something really peculiar and stands on its side, or it’s on a slant in some way.”

You watch as the gears turn in Chilchuck’s mind. “So you can’t really control how your gender works, sometimes you just… feel a certain way?”

“Exactly! My dysphoria – that’s the term for feeling uncomfortable – can fluctuate, but it’s still the same coin. It’s still…”

“It’s still you,” Chilchuck finishes, turning his head to look up at you with understanding finally brightening in his eyes. You can’t help but fluster a little.

It’d be a while since then until you’d make it back to the surface. Everyone is as accommodating as ever to use the right pronouns when you tell them what for. It soon comes naturally to just let you live as you are. It’s welcoming and warm with everyone.

A nice spring breeze blows through your skirt as you make your way down to the entrance of the forest where the feast takes place. You can spot your party from a mile away, your boots hitting the dirt path as you run over.

“Leave some for me!” You exclaim in greeting, causing your friends to turn their heads. Marcille gasps in wonder as she takes in your appearance, meanwhile Izutsumi makes a small noise in surprise.

Chilchuck is stunned into silence, and you can just tell the tips of his ears are going red before he keels over and spits out his drink onto the grass. “W-What are you wearing?!”

“A dress, Chilchuck,” you quip back, sitting in between him and Marcille. “Laios still being harassed by Yaad and the rest?”

“Hang on, we’re not moving on from this so fast! Let me look at you!” Marcille adjusts herself so she can inspect your look. “I didn’t think you’d suit a dress so well! Where’d you get that petticoat?”

You are about to answer when Izutsumi interrupts; “you look so… different,” she relays.

A sheepish chuckle escapes you, as you turn to Chilchuck, who has since been staring at you. He blinks once you perceive him and glances away. “You’re still you. It… You look very… you. It's nice.”

You can’t help but laugh at his flustered attitude, leaning down to kiss the top of his head as he gives out to you.

You are accepted, and you are loved. What place could possibly be better than here?

#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines

96 notes · View notes

dreamsinmoonlight · 2 days

Note

Dude, I need part 2 of Yandere Alastor with Angel Reader, could you do it?

(HERE WE GO! Part two: Electric Boogaloo. I dedicate it to Hoizer's "It Will Come Back". Because, I mean, that song is a yandere song to it's depths.

Part One: Oh Doe

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: yandere!Alastor, angel!reader

Genre: Same as before, yet maybe a little more? And a little hope even?!

Pairing: we both know what this is

Summary: After your reunion, you came to understand that you didn't understand some things. But other things never change.)

My Doe

In the weeks that followed since your arrival at the Hazbin Hotel, you come to understand more and yet at the same time you couldn't help but feel you didn't understand nearly enough.

Angel was a sweetheart, once you got past some of his stranger tendencies, the ease and constantness of his flirting and flaunting of his sexuality. At first you had been confused and flustered because you weren't used to such things, not at all, and you learned eventually there was an element of amusement to it for him, because as Husk liked to inform you "your wings show off way too much, kitten, and the spider loves watching you flounder". Which didn't exactly stop you honestly but you started to get past it and you started to notice the loneliness and the injuries and the sweeter aspects of him. No one liked to talk about it but sometimes you got him to agree to let you use your angelic magic to heal the worse of it and he's tell you such fascinating stories of hell with the brightest shine in his eyes, you couldn't help but like him.

Speaking of Husk he was much the same but it was more like getting past the grump and the walls the ex-Overlord had up. He had the most info to share with you, not to say that Charlie didn't but talking to her was like talking directly to a rainbow; she was sweet and optimistic and you loved and adored everything in that in her but when it came to the cold truth, it was Husk who seemed most willing to talk.

It took a few days before you found out why he knew your name and you learned he was in some ways like you: a collar and chain kept him tied to Alastor, unable to escape him anymore than you were to escape from your memories and past with him. There was a small edge of concern you caught early from his words to you, that Husk knew you were something Important to Alastor, in ways that made him all the more dangerous to you. There was some pity to it and you appreciated it to a degree though you tried so hard to smile and act as if it was nothing, as if you hadn't had nightmares again of that day, of the way Alastor had looked, had sounded, the feel of his hand on your cheek wet with blood, your own blood. Of the fear, of the pain, of the darkness before coming to as an angel in Heaven.

You met Lucifer, and he was a strange person who you felt oddly comfortable around because how could you hate someone who looked at their daughter with the love in his eyes? He was such a funny and energetic person and you were fascinated by the way he, this enemy of Heaven, could be such a shining light. And how much he and Charlie resembled each other.

You met Nifty, strange, insane Nifty, who laughed and ran around and ranted about bugs and looked at you with the widest stare before trying to stab you with the nearest implement; Angel had had to stop laughing first, Vaggie screaming as she held back the tiny cyclops, before he could explain what had happened during the battle. Ah, you thought; so this was the one who had given Adam the final blow. But the order to stab any angel she saw didn't seem to be completely gone and you just giggled and smiled and said it was okay. You didn't hold it against her in any way.

You met Cherry Bomb, Angel's friend, and you tried not to giggle because you knew her already so well. Sir Pentious spoke of her with such glowing warmth you couldn't see anything but what he surely saw when you looked at the punk explosives expert.

You learned about them, you became part of their group, and you worked hard to find all the ways you could possibly help the hotel, help Charlie, and you understood all that so much. But still you found you no longer understood Alastor.

The Alastor you knew had always been a gentleman and so was this Alastor but there was so much darkness to the way he moved. And you couldn't help but see something else when he smiled at you, hidden behind the cruelty, the violence, the obsession that you should have seen so long ago before it got too bad but no, it was far too late for regrets on that.

Always he was near, even now. You sat on a stool at the bar area, humming a soft tune to yourself as you waited for the others to come home; Charlie was out on a date with Vaggie, Angel had gone to his job and Husk was out gambling as he often did. Nifty was somewhere, she never left the hotel unless she was taken out by one of the others, and as for Alastor, well, he said something about needing to do a radio broadcast. Somewhere in the back of your mind you remembered the sinner who had whistled at you when you had gone out with Charlie the other way but you weren't too sure why they came to mind.

Your wings were stretched out and you could feel the eyes from the shadows; they were everywhere and here they were watching you. The first time he'd popped out of them you'd been terrified and Angel nearly threw every book in the study at him with words that an angel like you should never have to hear. Alastor let you keep your wings but the price seemed to be the shadows were always watching you, just in case. You shivered and bit back a whine, instinctively pulling your wings back in to wrap around you, a futile attempt to hide from the staring and the sensations you felt. The result was the feel of fingers along your feathers and an ache in your chest you attributed to fear and anxiety maybe mistakenly.

"Oh doe, look at you hiding away like a scared little fawn" came that staticky but clear voice, digging its way into your ears and leaving you wondering if it would be easier to stay inside or come out.

"Alastor," you whispered his name like an old prayer; it used to be something that gave you comfort, in a life long gone, when the one it belonged to had been a dear friend, a close friend. When you'd felt you known him. Not this stranger with the same voice and memories and feelings.

Those fingers became claws and you tried to swallow the whimper that threatened to leave you as you felt him get so close to ripping into your skin. Your blood would be golden now, not red, not red anymore; would it make him happy or angry?

"I suggest, my doe, that you not keep hiding from me," he said in a whisper that almost sounded sweet, almost familiar; for a second you could pretend it was dear sweet Alastor, before it crackled, "You wouldn't wish to upset me, now would you?"

Of course not. You remembered, you remembered too well, you remembered more often than not now that you saw him so often. This stranger who had the ghost of your old friend.

You hesitantly unfurled your wings and looked out, eyes wide as you looked upon the face of the greatest threat to your safety you knew. Those bright red eyes, that large yellow grin full of large yellow teeth all in points, the two tufts that you recognized as ears immediately, still standing up tall. He was still pleased, he was not angry yet, he was not annoyed yet. He would maybe not hurt you-

A small crackle of a chuckle left his mouth and you gasped as you felt his claws dig into your wings, puncturing thin sensitive skin, narrowly avoiding nerves that would leave you grounded if harmed. Feathers stained gold fell to the ground and you could not help but cry, the pain intense; your wings, like any flighted creature, all too delicate, all too sensitive. The tears came without ever a chance of holding back, of stopping them, and the softness of your cry, there was obviously something appealing in the way you looked and sounded because you saw that terrifying face soften and for a second, through the tears, you thought you saw your Alastor again.

"Oh doe, my doe," he said and pulled his claws free to cup your face in his hands; how many times would he streak your cheeks with tears and your own blood, "Have I told you how beautiful your eyes are when they're brimming with tears?"

He wiped your tears from your eyes, leaving more blood on you in his wake, before drawing his hand to his mouth and running his tongue along his claws. He still smiled, he never stopped, he never seemed to do anything else; you looked up at him and saw the emotions instead in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, shivering, shaking, bleeding, your wings aching in their urge to fold but unable to do so from the pain; you'd be fine, you'd be fine, you wouldn't die, you'd be fine.

"Don't apologize for being so brilliant to me," he said and his eyes narrowed, "Just never try to hide from me again; I haven't been able to see you in such a long time. I never wish to let you out of my sight again, that's why they're watching you after all."

"I'm sorry," you repeated and flinched as he reached out to touch your face again.

With your eyes closed you couldn't see his expression, not the way it wavered for a second, when the facade fell but returned long before you would ever know it was gone. Alastor stroked your cheek, admiring the way the golden blood painted your skin, and he tilted his head just a bit, just to the side.

"I'll forgive you, if you come up to my room," he told you and a jovial tone took over, "It has been so very long since the last time we sat about listening to music together, my doe, and I must say I have greatly missed it! The princess is a precious one and Husk does his best the dear boy but no one else I ever have known has understood the proper way to appreciate jazz as much as you do. Come, before the others return and surely drag you and/or I into another ridiculous and fanciful adventure; we're well overdue for one after all~"

You opened your eyes and looked at him and he was still smiling, still the same. Red and pink, deer demon, red eyes, yellow sharp teeth, dapper and torn all at once, fear and danger and violence in one neat form.

But you smiled back and you reached out to take his hand.

Alastor the Radio Demon you didn't understand. But you understood Alastor the radio host, the man who used to walk with you through the rain and scold you for giving away your umbrella every time. And that's who you saw smiling at you, even if just for a second.

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #fanfiction

71 notes · View notes

moonshynecybin · 21 hours

Note

Have you ever thought about reporter!marc having his own podcast?? Like years after his falling out with Valentino he starts one with Alex, and it actually breaks out of the niche of motogp simply because it’s so well done. It becomes a staple in riders yearly marketing duties, with Marc asking insightful questions, maybe getting some acclaim outside the pieces he would write on Valentino. Like ppl who don’t even watch races will tune in to listen because it hits that sweet spot of expert explaining what they love with passion. The end game of all of this is of course the divorce episode, where by some power of god Valentino does an interview on the podcast. And, as has happened in real life, he is much more open and vulnerable on the podcast even though it’s marcs (especially because it’s marcs??)… it either starts them toward reconciliation or next level fame trauma or both :)

the thing about this au is that SHOULD initially be more resentful of each other— marc is a reporter prying at vale’s careful facade and vale is a representation of everything that marc wanted but never got. they each catch on the other’s most tender of issues and it SHOULDDDDD prevent them from falling in love crazystyle but unfortunately for them it does not. truly they are friendly they are yappers they are personable and marc has that same razor sharp but occasionally goofy gleam in his eye that vale does and an insane little face to boot. reallyyruly deeply they just have an instant and natural affinity for each other… UNFORTUNATELY for them, this also means that when the breakup happens it is just a bad if not WORSE than irl. just like it happens here, apply some pressure career-wise, and all of the reasons they SHOULD hate each other start to look a lot more viable… they do NOT forgive people fucking with their ability to succeed…

so. anyways your beautiful little scenario. it’s a few years post sepang and they have an overly professional but CLEARLY cold detente. still make each other hyena laugh occasionally in that deranged way that they do but after that it’s like. ignoring each other in presscons while marc asks increasingly insane questions about vale’s age with every new article…. marc (along with every other journo) has a podcast (i think he videos it so he has an excuse to throw on one of his slut turtlenecks) and its pretty successful because marc has this inherent ability to understand/create narrative in sport (usually he uses this power on himself but i for one would LOVE to see his hot takes on the others lol) which i DO think is literally the mark of a good sports journalist. they are paid to do rpf, in a way. BUT the most notable thing is the WAYYYYYY he talks about vale… incisive. oddly almost worshipful. frank. strange note of tension coloring his voice. funny. occasionally mean. sometimes he starts a story off about the two of them from when he was just starting his career with abject delight in every line of his posture before cutting himself off and changing the subject… and the thing is i DONT think he gets vale on the pod until post reconciliation and then he drops like. a two hour intimate interview of them cackling like LUNATICS out of genuinely fucking NOWHERE and every single listener in the world is like i thought they HATED EACH OTHER ?? an absolute BOMB in the motogp journo podcasting world

#marc writes vale’s biography it’s BONKERSSSS #motogp #callie speaks #asks #rosquez #alex is still riding in this because if marc couldn’t tote his brother with him to every paddock on earth he would simply explode

72 notes · View notes

tonguepiercedanyway75 · 1 day

Note

these blurbs are so so good!! i’d love prompt 2 with matty (reader being the one crying) <333

thank you so much! oh love that prompt, 2-> crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over

You’re on the couch, matty on top of you, fucking himself into you very slowly.

It’s not even fucking it’s too sensual for that, he’s taking his time with you, savoring every moment with you.

His rhythm is in perfect harmony with the pulse of your body, matching the rhythm of your breath as his love for you grows with every stroke.

You don’t know when your thoughts started to run wild, your eyes are getting more teary by the second and Matty doesn’t notice because he’s prepping kisses down your breasts.

“hmm darling, need to be slower more often,” he mumbles against your skin and you don’t say anything because you’re afraid you will ruin the moment.

He’s gone soon, off on tour for almost two years and you can’t join him because your job is making it impossible.

Your hips are grinding against one another in perfect synchronicity. You get lost inside each other’s arms. There was no way of telling where your body ends and his begins. Together you chase the sweet relief with heavy breaths and accelerated motions.

“M’ so lucky to have you,”he groans, “to call you my girl.”

A tear slips from your eye, not really able to believe his words even though deep down you know he means everything he says. It’s just hard to believe that you will love each other without being able to actually enjoy each others company.

“My gorgeous, gorgeous girl,” he says looking down at where his cock is disappearing inside of you.

You fucking want to finish, to let him finish but you’re starting to feel pain. It’s starting to hurt and you’re biting your lip so hard it’s starting to draw blood. You can’t suppress it anymore and you let a sob slip.

Matty’s eyes shoot up and his hips come to an immediate rest.

“Fuck,” he says , his hand coming up to your cheek, “are you hurt, did I hurt you?”

Matty's eyes widen in concern as he gently cradles your face, his thumb brushing away the fresh tear that has slipped down your cheek.

You shake your head, your lips trembling as you try to speak, “no, it’s not that.” You can’t do anything but whisper because your voice is breaking, “sorry to r-ruin this.”

He notices how bloody your lip is and how your body trembles under him. He pulls out of you slowly.

“Baby, whats wrong? Did I really not hurt you?” he asks, clutching the sides of your face in his gentle hands and tilting your head up to meet his eyes. The blackness there is gone, replaced by tender warmth.

“Fuck,” you sigh, “it’s ridiculous.”

“S’not when you’re crying while we fuck,” he tries to joke and you give him a small smile while sniffling. “Let’s get proper comfortable, not when I’m with my dick out and then we talk, is that ‘right?”

You nod, staying under the covers while Matty puts on a pair of boxers. He’s still half-hard because he couldn’t finish but he doesn’t really care which you don’t know. You think you’re being selfish.

He takes your panties from the floor and slides them up your legs, making you feel a lot more comfortable. Furthermore he lifts his pink durex shirt to let you put it on.

“There we go,” he says, finally settling beside you, sitting down cross-legged. “What’s wrong- shit your lip is bleeding, what are you doing.” It’s more calm then accusatory and it’s clear that he just cares.

Matty's fingers gently dab at your lip with the tissue he picked up from your nightstand, his eyes filled with concern. "Hm? Baby, talk to me," he murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. You can feel the warmth of his body close to yours, even through the thin material of his shirt now draped over you.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady your emotions. It's difficult to find the words, the right way to express the turmoil swirling inside you. The weight of it feels overwhelming, and the vulnerability of the moment only amplifies it.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice cracking. "It's just… I can't help thinking about when you'll be gone. On tour."

Matty's face softens even more, if that’s possible, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "Oh, love," he sighs, pulling you into his lap. "Is that what this is about?"

You nod, burying your face in his chest, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I know it's selfish," you mumble against his skin. "I should be happy for you. I am happy for you. But I'm going to miss you so much, and it scares me."

Matty's arms wrap around you tighter, his hand stroking your hair soothingly.

“S’ neither daft nor selfish," he reassures you. "It's natural to feel this way. I miss you when I'm away too, more than you know."

You lift your head to meet his gaze, finding the sincerity in his eyes calming.

“But-“

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He knows you feel bad about crying and stupid and you regret opening yourself like that.

“I care about you,” he gives you a quick soft kiss to your lips, “we’ll find a way to make it work, okay? We’ll talk everyday, I’ll send you silly pictures, anything.”

The warmth in his eyes, the gentle tone of his voice, it all makes you feel a little more secure, a little less alone in your fear. You nod, feeling a weight lift from your chest. "Okay," you whisper, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

Matty leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We’ll figure it out together," he promises.

You manage a small smile, the tightness in your chest easing. “Yeah,” you agree, snuggling closer to him, “thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispers against your hair, “I love you too much to let you go.”

#the 1975 #matty healy #Matty Healy fluff #Matty Healy comfort #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy blurb #matty healy oneshot #matty healy imagine #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic

65 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 2 days

Text

All The Reasons We Can't

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (Lucy's roommate)

Summary: When you move in with Lucy Chen, you don't expect to fall for her ex-boyfriend.

Warnings: unspecified age gap (r is younger than Lucy), angst, fluff, spoilers for s6! (it's canon-divergent but still has spoilers)

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: If you are looking for a happy ending for Lucy and Tim, this is not the fic for you lol.😆

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Lucy!” you call, waving from your seat in the back of the restaurant.

She rushes to you and pulls you into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for coming,” she whispers into your embrace. “I needed this.”

“You’re my best friend, Lucy, I’ll always be here for you.”

Lucy nods as she releases you. You take the seat beside her rather than across from her. She’s dealing with a lot, and you know that she needs a friend right now.

“So, how long are you staying in town this time?” Lucy asks as she picks up the menu.

“Uh, about that,” you begin slowly. “I was thinking I’d just stay this time. You’re here, a lot of other things I love are here, and I just- I think it’s time to stay in LA for good.”

“You’re moving?” Lucy exclaims. “Please don’t be kidding, I can’t take that right now, girl.”

“I’m serious,” you promise her. “I’ve been looking for a new job and a place. Lucy, I want to be close to you; I need you in my life all the time, too.”

“It’s been too long,” Lucy agrees as she takes your hand. “I do have an idea though.”

You hum, inviting her to share, and her smile grows.

“Why don’t you move in with me? Tamara moved out, so I have the room. Even if it’s just temporary until you find your own space, I’d love to be roommates.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of change, Luce, and I don’t want to get in the way of you processing everything.”

“I’m really sure.”

“Then, yeah, I’d love that, Lucy.”

Lucy squeals, drawing the attention of an older couple sitting across from you. You wave awkwardly before they look away, then laugh with Lucy. Moving in with her sounds perfect and being right there for each other is part of why you decided to move.

“Hello,” you greet when Lucy returns from work. “Dinner is in the oven.”

“You’re the best friend ever,” Lucy sighs. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Wasting time until we met online mostly,” you answer. “How was today?”

“It was- uh, it was better. Tim and I still have a lot of work to do, mostly on ourselves. We’re going to try to be friends, though, because there’s no way either of us could ever just go back.”

“I get that. Being friends will be good for you, Lucy, even if it’s hard. Especially since you have to see him every day.”

“Yeah, it’s just still hard. Really hard sometimes, to wake up and remember he’s not there.”

You pull Lucy into a hug, which she gladly accepts. The oven timer dings, and you release her with a smile and an apology to finish preparing dinner.

“What would make it better?” you ask. “I know you’ve been thinking about it.”

“Honestly, I know I’m not ready to get out there yet, but I think seeing Tim with someone else – even just platonically – could help. He deserves it, too. For everything that he did and didn’t do, he’s a great guy, and he needs a friend or two that he can be himself with. Or does that sound selfish, like I’m trying to push him away to forget?”

“It doesn’t sound selfish at all, Lucy. You want the best for him, and if he’s trying to be friends, it seems like he wants that for you, too.”

“Yeah.” Lucy taps her fingers on the counter.

“I’ll get you a sign for the door,” you joke, trying to make her smile. “Lucy Chen, Platonic Matchmaker.”

It works, and Lucy smiles as you slide two plates onto the counter. She’s your best friend, and if she thinks Tim Bradford needs a friend (even after breaking her heart), then you trust she’s right.

“Hi,” Tim greets softly when the elevator opens.

Lucy nods once in greeting as she steps inside. “Good morning.”

Tim presses his lips together in the awkward silence. He knows he made the right choice by letting her go to get the better things she deserves, but it doesn’t make this part easier. “Big plans this weekend?”

“Not really,” Lucy replies. “My roommate is making me dinner tomorrow night and we’re just going to hang out, I think. Tamara and some other friends are coming over this weekend.”

“That’s good. You got a new roommate already?”

“I did. A friend I met a few years ago moved here, so…”

“Nice.”

“Yeah.” The door opens and Lucy steps forward. “Plus, she knows every little thing there is to know about me and you.”

Tim’s eyes widen and Lucy laughs as the elevator door closes behind her. Shaking his head, Tim smiles because Lucy looks happy again. His phone buzzes with another reminder about her cop-iversary, a term she coined to celebrate the anniversary of when she graduated to short sleeves. It’s the first year he hasn’t celebrated with her, but he’s still celebrating for her.

On the day of Lucy’s cop-iversary, you wake up early to surprise her with her favorite breakfast. When you have the food done and decorated for her big day, you realize that she should be awake by now. You walk to her bedroom door and knock lightly.

“It’s open,” Lucy calls from inside.

Gently pushing the door open, you see her finishing her hair. With the last clip in place, she sighs and looks at you. Her eyes are bloodshot, she looks tired, and there’s no sign of excitement for her big day.

“What happened?” you inquire.

“Yesterday was awful. A cop got shot, and I got roped into an undercover thing that almost blew up in my face… I’m just stressed and tired, I think. Everything’s piling on, you know?”

You extend your arms toward her, and Lucy hugs you tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “What is that amazing smell?”

“That’s your cop-iversary breakfast. Go eat, I’ll tidy up in here for you.”

“I love you,” Lucy sighs. “You’re the best person, friend, roommate, human, ever.”

“Back at ya,” you reply happily. “Now go before you run out of time.”

Lucy presses her hands together in another silent thanks as she walks backward out of her room. If she hadn’t told you about the rough day yesterday, her room would have. There are some clothes spread around on the bed and floor, her desk is disorganized, and there’s an overflowing backpack shoved in the corner. Her go bag, you realize. You pick a place at the back of the room and begin gathering the loose items; it’s the least you can do for your best friend.

In the kitchen, Lucy takes a bite of food and closes her eyes in appreciation. Before she can continue eating, someone knocks on the door. As she stands, she grabs a piece of food from the edge of her plate and pops it in her mouth on the short walk to the door.

“Kojo!” she squeals.

She drops to her knees without greeting Tim, opting to welcome Kojo into the apartment rather than the man who brought him over. Lucy takes the leash from Tim and leads Kojo to the couch.

“Can I come in?” Tim asks from the hall.

“Yeah,” Lucy answers, not looking away from Kojo. “What are you two doing here?”

“Heard about yesterday,” Tim says as he closes the door. “Thought you might want some Kojo comfort.”

“Kojo comfort is my favorite.”

“Happy cop-iversary.”

You survey Lucy’s room once you’re finished. With a satisfied nod, you turn toward her door. As you open it, you realize that Lucy has company.

“Sorry,” you say softly as the man looks toward you.

You recognize Tim Bradford from Lucy’s description of him and the pictures she refuses to delete. Now that they’re friends, it’s fine, but you didn’t approve of the folder while she was lying awake every night.

“I’m just gonna…” you trail off and walk toward your room.

“No, you can stay,” Lucy says. “You live here, too. This is Tim. Kojo and I will be right back.”

Lucy stands, and Kojo follows quickly behind her. She gathers her plate from the counter before she and Kojo disappear into her room and the door closes behind them.

“Hi,” you tell Tim. You remember that Lucy never actually said your name and offer it.

“Nice to meet you. And glad to see Lucy got a good roommate,” Tim replies.

You nod and look toward her door before you drop your voice to say, “Thank you. Lucy told me how you’re trying to do everything right after the breakup. Friends and all that. Plus, she needed to see Kojo today.”

“It is quite literally the least I can do,” Tim replies.

“I disagree. You seem like a great guy, Tim, and the fact that you’re trying at all means a lot. To me, at least.”

Tim isn’t sure how to respond to that. He blames himself for so much of what has happened recently, yet as he stands here with you, that guilt and the memories fade. He just wants to know about you.

“So, you and Lucy have been friends for a while?” he asks.

“Long-distance friends. We met online and then ran into each other in person a while back. Everything just kind of fit between us.”

You’re taking up every thought in Tim’s head, he realizes. Even as you’re talking, he wants to know more, to know you. But then a small voice in him points out that you’re young. Whatever it is he’s feeling doesn’t matter; you’re younger than him, younger than Lucy, and there’s no way you’d be interested in him. The realization fails to silence the other voice that whispers about how he feels alive, like himself again.

“How are you?” you ask. “Not just like how are you, I mean. Uhm… How are you doing with everything?”

The whispering voice rises to a yell. Tim’s heart knows exactly what it wants. Back to life in his chest, Tim acknowledges its cry that he needs you. Tim Bradford has feelings for Lucy’s younger roommate.

“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping your boundaries,” you add when Tim doesn’t answer. “It’s just that Lucy had me, Tamara, plenty of people to talk to after the breakup. From what she’s told me, you may not have had that same community to help you.”

“I don’t,” Tim agrees. His heart hammers in his chest as he wishes he could come home to you and your arms, where nothing else would matter.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs half-heartedly and offers a small smile. You see right through them to the sadness and guilt beneath. Living with Lucy has accustomed you to touch and physical affection, and you don’t think twice before you hug him.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, and the brief moment where you think he will pull away ends when his strong arms tighten around your waist. He drops his face to your shoulder and holds you tighter as he clings to you. You feel it, and Tim does too, as he melts in your arms and releases the baggage he’s been carrying for far too long.

“You have people now,” you whisper.

Tim nods against you and raises one arm toward your shoulder to deepen the hug before he pulls away.

“Do you have your phone?” you ask, your hand still on his arm. “I can give you my number so you can call or text any time you want.”

Tim passes you his phone and watches your eyes as you type your contact information. As you place it back in his hand, you repeat your invitation.

“Anything you need, just to talk or listen, I’m here, Tim.”

“Thank you,” Tim replies. He holds your eyes for a moment then asks, “Is Lucy going to give Kojo back?”

You tilt your head back and laugh, and Tim smiles at the sight and the melodious noise. “Nope,” you answer.

“Maybe I should take her roommate to get even,” Tim jokes.

You smile at him as you shake your head. “Take a seat, she’ll be a while. There’s plenty of food, too, so help yourself.”

Tim happily takes a seat, more than willing to pass the time with you while Lucy gets comforted by Kojo. The minutes pass quickly as you and Tim get to know each other. When Lucy’s door opens again, Kojo trots to Tim’s side and Lucy calls that she’s just getting her stuff and she’ll be ready.

“Great, I’m a chauffeur now,” Tim grumbles.

“Tim, you should come over more often,” you suggest. “Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course. I think it would be good for all of us, though.”

You pat Kojo’s head as Tim promises, “I will. And if you ever want to come to my place or meet somewhere, you have my number.”

Lucy emerges before you can answer Tim, and she hugs you tightly to thank you for the cop-iversary present. She tells Tim he’s free to go, to which he rolls his eyes but leaves anyway. You know that you’ll be texting him soon.

“You hugged Tim,” Lucy accuses after he leaves.

“What?” you ask, turning back toward her after watching Tim leave.

“I’m not mad. You’re really good for him.”

“Lucy, I promise it was not my intention to-“

“I know,” she assures, reaching for your hand. “But Tim and I are friends, he clearly likes you… If you want to try, I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

She picks up her bag and steps toward the door. “You didn’t ask how I knew you hugged him.”

“Cologne?” you guess.

“Happiness. I saw it on him too, and it’s been a very long time since it was that obvious.”

After she leaves, you unlock your phone and see that Tim has already sent you a text. With his comments and Lucy’s approval, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t pursue whatever it is that’s blooming between you.

“Thanks for the hug and the talk,” you read. You smile as you type a reply: Meet at my favorite restaurant on Friday for more?

The message says ‘delivered’ then ‘read,’ but there’s no reply. A minute passes and you lock your phone. Maybe you misread everything, and he really did just need a hug, and now he’s done. You try to shake it out of your head and begin to clean the kitchen. You’re nearly done when your phone rings.

“Hello?” you answer as you dry your hands.

“Why?” Tim asks.

“Hmm?”

“I’m older than you,” Tim points out. “And I dated your roommate and then dumped your roommate. I kept secrets and lied and nearly lost my job. There are more reasons than I can count that this wouldn’t work.”

“I know you’re older than me. And I don’t care. Tim, for all of the reasons you just told me that this- that we wouldn’t work, did you think of any reasons we would?”

Tim exhales before he admits, “No.”

“Then I’ll see you Friday, because both of our hearts already know, and for every reason that your brain tells you no, my heart is telling me yes. If yours isn’t, tell me now and we walk away.”

“Mine is too,” Tim whispers.

“Good.” You smile as you say, “Hey, can you get the early bird special, so our first date is cheaper?”

“What do you care? You’re not paying,” Tim replies, an addictive, teasing lilt in his voice.

“I’m glad you came over today, Tim. I needed that hug, too.”

“See you on Friday for more.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #the rookie #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯#the rookie spoilers

89 notes · View notes

m1ckeyb3rry · 2 days

Note

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first.

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind.

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first.

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you.

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say.

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways.

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume.

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be.

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say.

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said.

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter.

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky.

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding.

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by.

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say.

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says.

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.”

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently.

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up.

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality.

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you.

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized.

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

#kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #fake dating #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

59 notes · View notes