#what a dashing young man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saetoru · 1 year ago

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AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet.

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice.

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions.

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not.

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access.

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard.

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch.

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval.

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it.

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant.

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit.

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst.

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare.

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?”

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him.

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore.

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you.

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody.

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again.

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place.

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this.

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel.

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father.

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know.

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him.

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you.

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress.

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him.

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth.

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t.

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru.

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips.

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you.

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it.

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate.

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words.

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans.

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock.

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his.

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek.

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

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puppetmaster13u · 1 year ago

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Well dang now you got me thinking about him just slowly amassing the whole class and trying to tell himself he in fact does not have an adoption problem. It's not his fault that this weird cult-trafficking ring keeps settling down in his turf, right? They even keep coming after him and his kids spouting utter nonsense and he thinks they might just be completely insane or brainwashed. Like him, he can see himself as a 'ghost' or something, but c'mon, the kids? Obviously some sort of metas or even half-humans, who he shall be protecting. And if the Goonion think that maybe Red Hood is something similar and that they need to protect him, well Jason doesn't need to know.

Another de-aged Danny au, but he's with Dan & Ellie & Jazz as well.

Jason has like just arrived back to Gotham, caused chaos in the underbelly due to well, 8 heads in a duffle bag, and is just starting his takeover of Crime Alley. It's going good, great even! And then he busts some sort of gang or smuggling ring run by people in white suits and there's... holy shit why do these four toddlers have Lazarus eyes?!

Is that a lab?! And Lazarus waters?! Jason might be a bit mad but he's not an asshole, he's not going to just leave these kids here to the streets. He can't just take them to the Batclan either, and as much as he begrudgingly trusts Talia, he sure as fuck doesn't trust Ras. Who knows what he'd do to four... what are they, pit-kids?

Now he's juggling his whole revenge-thing, running a criminal empire, taking over Gotham's underbelly, and being a single dad. At least the goonion seems to be down for helping, seeing as he's making Crime Alley safer...? .... Fuck he needs some proper sleep

#dad jason au #dcxdp #de-aged phantom #jason adopts the fenton siblings au #It'd be hilarious if the batfam ran into Jason & the kids without realizing it #They're at BatBurger & dude enters with like 12+ five year olds & 2 toddlers strapped to his chest & looking like the epitome of tired dad #Jason: Yeah can I get uh... 16 kids meals... what drinks do you guys want... 16 kids meals with chocolate milkshakes & one ivy burger thank #Jason is doing his best to ignore the bats in the corner while watching the kids #*Dan put out that fire right this instant young man- Dash don't encourage him-*#Now the batfam are investigating both red hood and group of metas?? Family maybe???#But they can't find either of them- Crime Alley is a blackout of information no one is talking & cameras aren't working wtf #halfa jason #liminal family

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hairmetal666 · 3 months ago

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Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

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oukabarsburgblr · 4 months ago

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Perfect to Pamper [Pet AU]

FEATURING : AITO SOUSUKE (OC), DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

Two hot men adopt hybrids as pets! Experience their dynamic and their antics with you as a household animal!

little to no dialogue, fucking ur hybrid matured pet is normal in this universe

Find out more under the cut!

[LOADING SCENE...] AITO SOUSUKE!

Moving to a new neighbourhood wasn't easy for someone like him. Aito Sousuke had recently bought a new home, down in the quiet suburbs at the edge of the city. The down payment took a pretty penny out of his pocket but that wasn't the most of his concern.

With his resting bitch face, tall and muscular stature and burnt red hair, it seemed that his neighbours were reluctant to approach him. Although that specific neighbourhood was known for its residents being kind and friendly, it seemed that Sousuke had received the poor end of the stick.

He asked for advice from his small group friends and they all suggested for him to get a pet. Maybe a hybrid pet. Easy for conversation starters, a new housemate and someone to live with. Sousuke wasn't too keen on the idea at first but succumbed nonetheless since he felt so lonely.

As he arrived at the pound, he gazed at the young, old dogs, even hybrid ones as well but what caught his eyes was a young hybrid who looked to be around the same age as he was.

Bright (e/c) staring up at him behind jailed cells, his fluffy blonde ears surrounded by (h/c) hair perked up. His tail wagging behind him. A golden retriever.

Sousuke grabbed the tag taped on the cell and read its name. "(m/n)?" The hybrid stood on his feet and peered up at Sousuke, his tail wagging excitedly. The hybrid didn't look like he belonged there.

The redhead found himself bringing home a new dog, ordering a new bedframe and some wet food for the dog.

The morning after, he found the hybrid at the foot of his bed. Staring up at him as he sat plush on the carpet of his bedroom. Sousuke felt like he started to regret his adoption.

The dog followed him everywhere, nudging him when he was cooking, scratching his door when he was in his home office and even shoving his hand under the bathroom door while he was taking a shit.

Sousuke was annoyed, this wasn't the reason why he wanted a pet in the first place. But of course, the golden retriever managed to prance his way into the redhead's cold heart. Slowly, Sousuke looked forward to spend time with the dog, scratching his head, laying on the couch to watch TV, or even bathing together.

However, when he had taken (m/n) to the vet for vaccine shots, the vet had warned him about his late rut cycles. Mostly due to new surroundings and bonding with a new owner and it had been a while since Sousuke had adopted him.

One morning, Sousuke was horrified as he dashed out the door and into the backyard. (m/n) had been trying to jump the fence, climbing over the wooden boards, drooling over the cat hybrid next door. Turns out, his heat had came and his first desire was to mate with his neighbour's pet.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE! BAD DOG!"

Sousuke locked him in the guest room, immediately calling the vet for advice and all he received was to wait it out or help him with his own devices. The redhead chose the former, checking in after a few hours.

Creaking open the door, the hybrid didn't notice his owner peeking in as (m/n) desperately humped the sheets. Sliding his cock between a pillow, drooling and growling to himself. He had tossed aside his shirt, sweat dripping from his skin and he was oozing slick from his ass as well.

"Fucking hell man..." Sousuke groaned to himself before entering the room. It wasn't a peculiar relationship for a hybrid to form a sexual bond with their owners, especially mature hybrids. The redhead thought he would never indulge in one.

"Hngg... mmnhh anhh..." Sousuke quietly groaned into the hybrid's ear, his pants bunched at his ankles as the redhead rutted his hips further into (m/n)'s ass. The dog only growled, mewling as he clenched tightly around his owner's cock slamming in and out of his slicked hole.

(m/n) was starting to get loud, howling and whining and Sousuke didn't want the neighbours to call the cops on him so he laid himself on top of his pet. The hybrid on his stomach at the end of the bed and Sousuke laying on top, (m/n)'s sweaty back pressing against the redhead's tight compression shirt. The fluffy wagging tail was a bother to Sousuke, that kept swishing around as the redhead pulled it back and focused his eyes on the twitching furry ears instead.

He pulled the collar on (m/n)'s neck, curling his fingers underneath it as he pulled him close, forcing the hybrid to arch his back. Sousuke put his arm around the dog's neck, putting him in a headlock as Sousuke slumped his head into (m/n)'s shoulder when the hybrid bit into his forearm.

Sousuke moaned loudly as he spurted cum inside the hybrid, (m/n) yelping as he felt semen dripping from his asshole as he milked more of Sousuke's cock, swaying his hips more. The hybrid bared his teeth again, and gently pressed it onto his owner's arm, carefully chewing the skin, not breaking it like a baby suckling on a bottle feeder.

The (h/c) came, rolling his eyes as he squirted from both ends, staining the sheets and making cum drip onto Sousuke's crotch from his ass. His ears flickering as he does so. Sousuke began to fuck himself into the dog, pounding his hips again as he pressed his tip into the dog's prostate. (m/n)'s drooling tip dragging against the messy sheets.

After cumming for the nth time, Sousuke found himself passed out in the guest bedroom, (m/n) snuggling under his arm, his face stuck in his armpit, smelling his mild scent. The redhead left him after cleaning the mess, not daring to face his pet after having sex with him.

(m/n) was confused, his ears flopping against his head as he barked to get Sousuke's attention. His owner had just warmed up to him but now he's cold again. It wasn't until the week after that the redhead began to pay attention to his adorable golden boy again.

The (h/c) was sneaky, grinding behind Sousuke, rutting his crotch against his owner's hips. The redhead glared at him while he was busy going through his files in his bookshelf. Wordlessly, he held out a hand in front of (m/n)'s crotch who immediately dropped his pants and began to jerk his cock into his owner's hands until he stained the shelves.

Sousuke wouldn't properly fuck him, only letting him use his hands or his fingers to fill his hole. Not until one night that Sousuke got drunk, insisting that if they would have sex again, he would have to get drunk for this bullshit.

"I need a drink...I can't do this sober." Downing another glass, Sousuke couldn't fathom that he was developing a sexual bond with his pet. Either it was from the shock that was inhibiting him, or it was the attraction developing in his heart that made him hesitate.

Nonetheless, that didn't stop his dog from climbing into his lap, grinding on his bulge and licking all over his face. Sousuke ripped (m/n)'s pants and forced him to ride him for the rest of the night. He never got close to his neighbours for a good month but he did get to fuck a cute puppy for the rest of his life.

[END SCENE]

[LOADING SCENE...] DAISUKE YUICHI!

"A cat...for my birthday?"

Skimming over the papers, he looked up to his father's secretary who nodded at his question. His birthday had passed a week ago, and he had fun celebrating the date of his birth but he didn't expect his father to prepare a post-event gift.

On the tables were multiple papers with pictures of kittens, young hybrids. His dad wanted to buy a hybrid from a breeder. Daisuke managed to pause the brakes on that one. He requested an older cat, one that is around his age, not a kitten. He felt a bit guilty that the fact it was from a breeder but proceeded nonetheless.

When (m/n) had arrived, Daisuke was fascinated with his hairless ears, seeing the bare skin in contrast with his (h/c) hair. A sphynx breed, but almost as tall as he is. His tail was long and skinny, the ravenette mesmerized as he tried playing with the cat with toys he bought but was ignored.

Turns out, the cat disliked Daisuke as much to his dismay. He refused to even entertain his new owner. Hissing and scratching at him, even cowering at corners of the room, although Daisuke could clearly see his stature.

The ravenette thought the best action was to give him space, acting as if the cat didn't exist, letting (m/n) smell his hands. Regularly placing the treats near him. It was working, the (h/c) purring and perking up and staring at him whenever he walked into the room with starry eyes.

(m/n) was such a lazy cat however, only eating expensive treats, he ignored all store bought food whenever Daisuke randomly bought them in a rush. Daisuke was tired but amused seeing him laying lax around the modern couches. He was still picky with people though, not liking butlers and preferring his owner, that made Daisuke's heart melt even more.

It was swell until Daisuke left the balcony door open and he came home to find out (m/n) had ran away. Immediately deploying a cat hunt, he found his pet three miles away hissing at a poodle. He was crying and sobbing when he reunited with his cat and at home, he found out that the reason he had ran away was because it was mating season and the sphynx had gone into heat.

Deep purrs reverberated through the cat's throat as (m/n) climbed on the couch to nuzzle against Daisuke's chin, his naked tail swaying seductively behind him. The ravenette stared at him with a hesitant smile. "...I'm not a bottom..." He jokingly spoke.

It wasn't until (m/n) dropped down on his hands and knees and wiggled his ass to Daisuke's direction did his dick flinch and he realised (m/n) wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Moments had passed and clothes were tossed to the side, a naked Daisuke was huffing and shivering. His bare nipples twitching as the cat purred, perched in his lip. Trailing his fangs over his shoulder, (m/n) dragged his course tongue across his owner's neck, sucking on the skin roughly. His hands were Daisuke's pecs, kneading on the soft supple skin with his trimmed claws.

"F-Fucking hell..." The ravenette cursed as he pulled the (h/c) by his collar and bent him over the coffee table. Daisuke pulled out his heated penis from his pants and slipped it inside his pet without prepping him.

(m/n) mewled in pain, scratching at the coffee table as Daisuke leaned down, pressing against his back. "That's a good kitty..." He mumbled, licking (m/n)'s cat ears and biting on his nape.

Grinding his teeth against the loose skin, Daisuke blushed wildly, a horny smirk stretching on his face as he fucked his cock deep into the meowing cat. The (h/c) had his ears flopping against his hair, his tail coiling around Daisuke's thigh as he yelped every time his owner thrusted against his prostate.

(m/n) dug his claws into the table as he clenched around Daisuke's tip, spurting cum onto the white carpet. His owner not lasting any longer as he pounded his remaining cum inside his pet's throbbing hole.

The dynamic in their household changed, Daisuke lessening the amount of staffs inside his home. The ravenette would regularly entertain his cute kitty, sometimes he would trap his pet in his bedroom for his own pleasure. (m/n) was now the most valuable treasure in his home.

His toys were all thrown away and replaced with golden versions or by the least, his favourite play-string was a Swarovski necklace. (m/n) had his own bedroom with an extended catio that stretched out into the balcony.

Although no matter how much the bathroom was renovated, (m/n) still disliked bathing. And with how frequent their sexual encounters were, it was war everyday for Daisuke since he was his pet's favourite person. However, Daisuke would battle whenever and whoever if it meant getting to spend his time with his new spoiled pet.

[END SCENE]

Afterthoughts:

not my best work

Taglist:

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin @jaxyy219 @mikahrh @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @pinxeajin @gyarukitti @syyyy4ever @pato-spoiler-27 @citrusequalsfrogs @animefan106sposts @bensontrechic @partywalker @gaynesspersonified @yanrandom @theorye @jentlesoldier @apotatoishereee @blepp0c @g0ldencl0ver @mazunzunne @basketbaal

#oukabarsburg #bottom male reader #sub male reader #male reader #x male reader #x bottom male reader #uke male reader #aito sousuke #oc x male reader #daisuke yuichi #male reader smut #oc x reader smut #oc x reader #oc smut #male oc #Spotify

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tender-rosiey · 3 months ago

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maybe jelly — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: gojo getting jealous? 👁️👁️

you arrive at jujutsu high, as you prepare for your guest lecture. you’ve given these talks before, but this time, something feels a little different—satoru is acting strange.

not that he’s ever normal, but today he seems extra…dramatic.

“you’re going to kill it, babe,” satoru says, draping his arm over your shoulders as you walk toward the classroom. his blindfold hides his eyes, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze, more focused than usual.

“you okay?” you ask, glancing at him with a teasing grin. “you seem a little... off.”

“me? off? never,” he replies, lips pulling into his trademark smirk. “just making sure no one gets too cozy with my brilliant wife. gotta make sure these kids remember you’re taken.”

you roll your eyes playfully, “I think everybody and their mother know that, satoru.”

time passes by, and now, you stand at the front of the lecture hall at jujutsu high, wrapping up your talk.

the students seem genuinely engaged, and one in particular, a young sorcerer named ren, is practically bouncing with enthusiasm, asking follow-up questions.

“and how did you manage to seal that curse without any physical confrontation?” ren asks, his voice brimming with admiration and curiosity.

before you could respond, satoru appears at your side with his usual confidence, his presence instantly commanding attention, “well, she is the wife of the gojo satoru. kinda comes with the territory,” he interjects, flashing his signature grin.

you shoot him an exasperated look, “I’m pretty sure my skills had something to do with it.”

satoru leans in close, nuzzling against your cheek affectionately before pulling back slightly. “oh, of course, sweetheart. you’re amazing, but it doesn’t hurt to be married to the strongest sorcerer around, right?”

ren blinks, clearly caught off guard by the interaction.

he glances between you and satoru, his expression a mix of confusion and awe. “I wasn’t aware you were married,” he mutters, his gaze flickering between you and satoru as if trying to process this new information.

you smile and give satoru a jab into his ribs that he takes like a champ, “yeah, he likes to remind people. it’s kind of his thing.”

satoru, never one to miss an opportunity to make a grand statement, leans down and places a soft kiss on the top of your head.

his arm slips casually around your waist, “just keeping things clear. y'know, in case anyone forgets that I get the honor of calling you mine.”

ren tries to steer the conversation back to his question, “so, about the sealing technique…”

satoru cuts him off again, stepping slightly in front of you with a playful yet firm stance.

“hey, hey, let’s not bombard her with too many questions now. she’s been on her feet alllll day, talking about all the cool stuff she’s done and showing everybody just how badass she is.”

you roll your eyes but can’t suppress a small smile. stepping around him to face ren again, you continue, “ignore him. the technique I used requires focusing on—”

satoru clears his throat dramatically, pulling you back to his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, eyes boring into the poor boy even through his blindfold.

“you know what I think? I think my lovely wife deserves a break. maybe some alone time with her handsome, strong, and incredibly talented husband?”

you raise an eyebrow at him, your tone teasing. “handsome and humble, I see.”

satoru’s grin widens, and he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I can be both when it comes to you.”

you are about to retort back, but then you remember that ren is still here.

you turn to the boy with a smile and assure him, “anyway, ren, if you want to chat more about techniques, we can catch up later. after my husband gets over himself,” you hiss at the man who raises his hands in surrender.

ren, now visibly flustered and unsure, mumbled, “uh, I’ll… catch up with you later then. thanks for the talk!”

ren dashes out the room, slamming the door behind him. you tap your feet against the ground for a few minutes, before you elbow satoru again.

he stays standing up, chest puffed out and a big grin plastered on his face. you deadpan as you stare at your husband, “you really couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

satoru shrugs nonchalantly, still holding you close. he hums, giving you a kiss on the forehead, “what can I say? I don’t like sharing. besides, you are the wife of the strongest sorcerer; it’s important to make sure that’s clear.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile helplessly at your husband. your fingers find their way through his hair making him instantly melt. you giggle at your puddle of a husband, “you’re so lucky I love you.”

he tilts his head slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “I love you more, soooooooooooo—”

“oh my god, I get it,” you laugh as you try to push him off. he resists with a whine as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder. you yield and let the silence fill the room.

he hums softly as you both sway mindlessly.

“but y’know,” you pull back slightly, smiling up at him, “you really do like to make an impression.”

he chuckles, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and mischief, “just doing my part to ensure everyone knows how lucky I am and how lucky they should feel to be in the presence of my extraordinary wife.”

he intertwines your left hands together and raises them slightly, showing off the rings. the sun makes them shine quite brightly, and it makes you sigh with a smile and satoru let out a huff of laughter.

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narcissusneverknewme · 4 months ago

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I was going to pin this post until I stopped feeling fire in my throat on recognition. I figured I'd be ready to move on then— That has not happened I want this so bad I can't bear that I can't have it

they wouldn't let me write the live action Disney adaptions because I would have had the best Ping you have ever seen. He and Shang would have had chemistry that took your breath away. They would be Yearning. the audience would be Yearning. it would be electric and terrifying and by marika would Mulan/Ping be hot. Shang is obsessed, the audience is obsessed. there would be hardly be a person in the attendance that doesn't Get where Shang is coming from. who wouldn't rend their clothes and scream to the heavens over Mulan/Ping. she takes no prisoners.

and yes, Shang kisses him in the snow as he cradles Ping's injured, dying body.

and yes, from the opening scene to the rolling credits he's going slowly mad.

and the first time you see Mulan she's dressed in the most feminine, floaty, light-colored dressy robes, with bone white makeup and painted lips and you fall in love with her. and there's something underneath, too. and it's so intriguing.

and then she shows up as Ping, and it takes a while to get used to, and it's kind of funny and awkward. but then it looks better and better to you. and soon you find you can hardly bear it when the camera turns away from him for even a second. and Ping isn't awkward to be around at all, he's stunning and brave and resilient and determined to be kind and you're desperately in love with him and you decide he looks incredible in the warriors' robes, actually. and his smile makes you want to kiss him. it makes Shang want to scream. and to kiss him.

and then comes the last leg. and she's got the gender-neutral robes, the "neutral" stage makeup. the loose updo. and you've never been as attracted to anyone in your life as Shang is to her. and you get it. you really, really get it. and wow the way the cuff of her sleeves and the silhouette of her robes make your heart clench. and the way her posture, her gait, make a new kind of sense. you can feel this is It. this is The Costume. you're obsessed and Shang is obsessed.

And then in the end, she's wearing pretty soft-colored robes and it makes you think for a moment that she looks like she did at the beginning. but then actually something makes her strength visible too. is it the cut of the costume? her posture? the framing of the shots? Yes it is. and you know, when Shang shows up, You know he can see it too. and he doesn't want to stop looking any more than you do. and he isn't going to even when you do.

every kid that ever watched my Mulan would recall it as Formative, like y'alls Danny Phantom but on the sickest steroids ever invented. She'd be irresistible. and so very gender.

#give it to me cowards #just original tags now bc I have not developed away from this at all. my mind is still here.#i was a huge shang fan as a kid #you can't tell from this post bc it's all about Mulan #but I would do my boy Shang SO GOOD #you'd adore him at the end. and be cheering him on and begging him to stop and gasping from frustration just watching him #but most importantly you'd believe in the goodness of his character. a man; young and under immense pressure; doing his best #fighting his hardest #anyway I market the movie for theaters with her in the girly clothes and then all merch and promotional material afterward features the #shan yu final showdown outfit #the one that makes you go mad #that makes you forgive all of shangs transgressions on the spot #you take one look and say #yeah ok. my boy was right alright. look there were extenuating circumstances. no one could think in this environment #but if course that's actually where they work together THE BEST #and it's soooo good #and it convinces you that they are perfect for each other #sorry about all this guys #I'm still mad this isn't what happened with the live action frankly #i will probably never come to terms with it #<-yip #or........ miniseries?? 8 hours of film all shot and edited and released as a single work perhaps?#oooo what if I did a 3.5 hour film with AN INTERMISSION what would the girlies think of that 😂#boo me out of theaters #except audiences would realize I'm right #btw I genuinely never intended to leave rhis on my dash more than two days #my stomach still clentches and my throat burns immediately on seeing the first line every time. I just cannot get over this #this could be It. we coukd have this. it could be ours #mulan #disney

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ak319 · 4 months ago

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Lovesick bubbly hubby x reader

(artist: ppanae100)

You sighed as another picture popped up on your phone, sent during his so-called "study session" with friends. You’d sent him to study, and this is what he was up to. Mentally, you made a note to confiscate his phone the next time he claimed to go to a "group-study."

So, Narin Gul was indeed your husband. This young, clingy, bratty, bimbo of a man—your husband. You, a college professor. No, not his college professor. You just happened to grow up in the same neighborhood, and the moment you helped him with an essay—something he was initially too shy to ask about but did on his parents' insistence—he fell hopelessly in love. Deeply. He wanted to be yours and you to be his only.

He still couldn’t quite understand how he’d fallen for a Chemistry professor, of all people, since he hated anything related to studying. His parents had to practically beg him to pursue a degree, just for his own good after he’d all but given up on academics. In the end, he chose English, thinking it might be easier—only to now cry over novels, not because of the stories, but because he absolutely despises studying! He just wanted to be whisked away. To stay at home all day and keep himself and the house pretty.

And you, you were everything he ever dreamt of. Like his own knight, a Princess Charming. Sure, you were a bit older, and that only made it all more romantic in his mind. He, a cute and eager English Literature student in his first year, and you, a sophisticated, cold, dashing, and incredibly intelligent Chemistry professor--just the thought of it made his heart flutter. After that first interaction, he practically melted onto the floor when he returned to his room, unable to believe that you were the same (Y/N) who used to play on the streets with your friends. He, a kid at the time, would watch from the sidelines, sometimes joining in, and then you had disappeared for years to get your degree. And now you were back--thank God, you were back--and more dreamy than ever.

From that day forward, he started paying more attention to his English studies. Well, at least trying. He’d read poetry or skim through the synopsis of novels he hadn’t actually touched, hoping to impress you with a few lines memorized just for you. His bimboy brain, of course, failed to process half of it, but that didn’t stop him. He had to prove that he was more than just a pretty face, that he was your good, studious boy—even if "studying" for him meant reciting two lines of poetry and hoping they stuck.

Narin knew, deep down, that you would never accept him as your anything because of the age gap. But despite his airheaded tendencies, he had a brain--one he didn’t use often, but when he did, he was clever. So, in a move that could only come from a desperate, lovesick boy, he concocted a scenario where his honour was on THE LINE!. And, of course, it was all because of you! His genius plan? Spread the rumour that you had asked him out on a date.

That single rumor was enough to send his parents into an absolute frenzy. Both families got involved, concerned about preserving reputations and traditions. Before you knew it, you were being dragged into marriage talks, and suddenly, you had a pretty boy in your lap with plump lips and an endless supply of cheeky grins. You couldn’t help but shake your head at the absurdity of it all. Tch.

🍭"Why do I have to study?!" Narin whined, flopping dramatically onto the couch like a toddler. "I want to be a househusband! I will be a househubby! I’m not going to college! Please, Coco!" His pleading eyes were wide and desperate as if hoping you’d magically let him off the hook.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the day’s frustration mounting. It had only been one day since the wedding--a wedding where he cried hysterically about leaving his parents’ house, despite orchestrating the entire thing himself. And now, this?

"You have to go because your parents paid for it! A degree is important. After that, you can sit in the house. Got it?"

"No, it’s not! There-" He froze, gulping as your stern gaze bore into him. His rebellious stance deflated with a huff, like a child who’d been caught sneaking cookies. "Fine..." he grumbled, crossing his arms but relenting nonetheless.

Sigh.

You were so frustrated with the way your life had turned upside down that, instead of taking time off after the wedding, you threw yourself straight back into work just to stay sane. Meanwhile, you had Narin take a few days off to stop his constant whining about everything. You needed the quiet, but what shocked you was coming home every day to a home-cooked meal that was, annoyingly, delicious. Turns out, he’s actually talented at something after all. Not to mention those adorable outfits he wears, like that Panda onesie. What an adorable little minx.

However, he’s perpetually pouty, glaring at you like a scorned child every time you leave for work. He always tries his best to make you late, his antics a cheeky mix of playful defiance and desperate need for your attention which you cave in sometimes. He hadn't stopped grumbling about not being taken on a honeymoon either, arms crossed and lips jutting out in a sulk. But he will wait, deep down, he knew you’d take him eventually. He just wouldn’t let you live in peace until you did.

His friends were apparently waiting for honeymoon pictures—how embarrassing would it be to tell them his wife was too much of a workaholic to go on one? So, of course, he told them you were saving up for something huge. Eventually, to quiet him and his friends, you took him on that honeymoon just to get it over with.

Narin always made sure to do his homework right beside you, his head often resting on the table, watching as you graded papers with that calm, focused look on your face. Did he forget to mention you looked so hot?! It was like he was in his OWN K-drama! He loved being in your presence--it was warm, comforting, and-

🍭"Narin? Narin! Stop dozing off. I want to see you writing."

He jolted upright. "Y-yes! Wait—why are you being so strict? I was just... taking a break." And there they were, those tears welling up in his eyes again. His go-to move. No, as a matter of fact he savoured your strictness. So, so much , like 'choke me already, ma'am'.

Sigh # 2

Despite his exaggerated bouts of emotion, Narin never forgot to remind everyone at college that he was a newlywed--with you as his wife, an established and respected professor. Oh, he made sure the world knew. That’s right. Go rot in jealousy, losers.

🍭"Your husband has, again...behaved very rudely in the class." Your friend, Payton who was a professor at his college called you from work. '"I mean, before that teacher went to the dean, I handled the situation.'

You glanced over at Narin, standing nearby with his arms folded, clearly shivering under your gaze. What the hell are you supposed to do with him?. You made him apologize to said teacher and now he was ranting on the way to the car.

"Not my fault! She wasn't letting me go to my hair appointment! And why weren't you picking up my phone?! Did you already find someone else?! More beautiful than ME?! ARE THEY YOUR STUDENT?!"

"You little-" You held back, controlling the urge to snap. Control, (Y/N), control. ''Get in the fucking car." You slammed the passenger door as he got in and once in, turned to him.

"You were expecting me to come and take you to a salon in the middle of my job?! And why the hell do you have an appointment in the middle of your classes in the first place?!" You knew perfectly well he made the appointment as an excuse to bunk.

"Well, forgive me, wife, for trying to look pretty for you," he muttered, looking away dramatically. Then, with a smirk, he added, "And by the way... have you got your friend spying on me here?" His cheeks flushed pink, and he giggled like a child. Possessive control freak, he thought to himself. God, that’s so blazing hot of you. Just when are you gonna collar me? That too a pretty diamond one? :(

Why is he smiling like that?

"Look, Narin, she is just doing her job—"

"Oh my God, staaahp," he interrupted with another giggle. "Just drive~. You don’t need to be so defensive about it. I know you love me so much." He pecked your cheek, likely leaving a glossy stain behind, then laughed, clearly enjoying his latest episode of theatrics.

Great, you thought. He’s at it again.

Sigh #3

Well, after that, you had to keep a close watch on him to ensure he didn’t book any more 'self-care for wifey' appointments during college days. You still wondered why he squealed and shied away whenever you demanded to check his phone. What bothered you the most was that, despite having a sharp tongue, he seemed quite naive and innocent when it came to understanding the consequences of his words and actions. This often led to clashes with his in-laws. Had his parents even bothered to teach him anything?

🍭"Good, you're ready. Let's go." You got up from the sofa as he finally emerged from the bathroom, dolled up. You were really hungry and just wanted to get to the family dinner.

"And here I was expecting you to shower me with romantic compliments... write a damn poem or something so we’d get delayed, and then YOUR family would ask why we're late so I could tell it to their faces that THEIR (Y/n) couldn't stop showering me with compliments and affection, making THEM jealous. THAT’S HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE!"

"Um... you look pretty. Pretty as ever. And we’re late either way, so you still get to use that line. Come on now." You walked past him, not forgetting to--

"Hey! NO! You don’t get the 'smack my bum pass' after that lackluster compliment you threw at my face, professor." Liar, he definitely loved it.

He’s a little manipulator with the eyes that of a siren. He knows how to use #keepingyourpartnerunderyourspell tactics very well. If you get furious or don’t take his side after he acts like the spitfire he is in front of your family, then goodbye. He’s leaving with his suitcase, which is mostly empty because he knows you’ll come to bring him back home anyway, to go to his parents’. After enjoying at least half a day of tranquility , you have to bring him back before his parents call you and inform you about his hunger strike.

However, when you visit your in-laws, you’re treated like a queen, being their only daughter-in-law. Narin, although a headache sometimes, really takes care of your comfort, always standing over your head and feeding you various dishes. You just wish he would be this docile in front of your family. Perhaps one day. Your parents scold you for being so lenient with him, but what are you supposed to do? On one side, your husband won’t let you be in peace, and on the other, your family. You just use the excuse of him being young and immature every time. It hurts seeing him sad without you even realizing it.

Narin feels deeply wounded by the way your family sometimes favors you and disapproves of him, especially after how he has schemed his way into your life. Despite this, he believes their disapproval is unjust and is tormented by the idea that they want you to LEAVE HIM! Leave such a beautiful, ideal boy like him!. The fear of this happening haunts him, makes him furious, even giving him nightmares. He can't bear that. He will wilt. He won't ever let that happen!

He believes in love, just like in the fairy tales and Shakespeare’s sappy lines and knows that one day your heart will melt. He can spot the tenderness in your eyes and the way you care for him, correcting his dumb choices like saving him from sending the shared account details to an unknown number for a free couple spa day at a resort in Greece🥹🎀

🍭"Hey, Coco? Did you tell everyone that I passed my driving test?" Narin asked with a mischievous glint in his eye. It was Sunday, and he’d invited your family over for tea, or maybe he was just feeling playful and bored. He loved stirring things up a bit.

"Yes, on his first try too," you said, looking up from your laptop with a proud smile.

Narin’s cheeks turned a shade of pink at your beaming expression. "Why wouldn't I pass? You were my teacher, after all, haha. God," he turned to your mum, "Your daughter is such a scary teacher, but it was worth it. Haha!"

He got up to refill your tea and serve more snacks, catching the eye roll from your mum as he did.

HE. IS. LOVING. THIS. MARRIED. LIFE. >_<

(AN: wanna get Narin preggo- also a warm welcome to my new subs✨️)

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rambling-at-midnight · 4 months ago

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Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

#reader insert #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic

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hederasgarden · 5 months ago

Text

Preview: On the Horizon

Summary: You've been pining over your coworker for a while now. He might not have realized but someone has.

Paring: Tyler Owens x F!Reader (with minor Scott x F!Reader)

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst, smut, flirting and asshole!Scott A/N: Thanks to @writercole for the summary. Hoping to have this fic out next weekend!

You brush the sweat from your brow as you surreptitiously watch Scott work beside you. He doesn't seem bothered by the heat, typing away on his computer despite the stagnant air. It makes you long for the cool labs you used to work in before Javi recruited you. Although he'd likely tell you this weather was perfect for a storm, you're miserable. Meteorology wasn't even your field; you were here for your engineering expertise to handle the specialized equipment the team needed to gather their data.

From your vantage point on the tailgate of the truck, you observe the other storm chasers gather around Tyler Owens' red truck. The man in question emerges with a brilliant smile, and beside you, Scott scoffs, annoyed. He hates Tyler, and you're pretty sure the feeling is mutual from the brief interactions you've observed.

"Ass," Scott mutters, returning his attention to his computer.

When you look up again Tyler's gaze falls on you. He grins and winks, pulling down the brim of his hat in acknowledgment. Before you can react, he's turned to speak to one of the young women on his team, giving her his full attention. A hand rests casually on her shoulder.

You wish Scott would acknowledge you like that. You thought things would be different after the night you shared weeks ago, but he'd been quick to dash those hopes the next morning, ignoring you completely. He only seemed to look at you when he needed your tech skills or when you made a mistake. Your cheeks still burn from his last reprimand in front of the team.

Clearing your throat, his eyes briefly land on you before returning to the screen in front of him. "What?" he demands.

"Oh. I was going to get something to eat. Do you want something?”

"Yeah, you know what I like," he says dismissively. When it's clear that's all you're getting from him, you push off the truck onto the dusty road with a soft exhale and head into the gas station.

The air conditioning inside practically makes you groan with relief, and you take a moment to appreciate the cool air.

"You're not melting on us, are you, city girl?" You jump at the unexpected voice, surprised to see it belongs to Tyler. "MIT got you all wound up, huh?” He questions, amused.

"What?"

"Your boss," he clarifies.

"Oh, he's um... he's not my boss. Javi is."

"No?" he questions, brows raised. "Well, he certainly barks at you like he is."

Heat rushes to your face as you realize Tyler must have overheard Scott reprimand you yesterday after you miscalibrated one of the sensors.

"If you worked with my team, I'd be a lot nicer," he says.

You stare at him, unsure how to respond to his comment or the flirty tone. Before today you’d hardly spoken, he mostly interacted with Javi or Scott. You’re saved from answering when the bell on the door jingles and someone calls your name.

It’s Scott.

"Owens," he bites out, surprising you when he rests a hand on your shoulder and stands close enough that you feel his shirt brush your arm. Your lips part and your lashes flutter in response.

Tyler's gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your face with a knowing smile. "Well, I enjoyed our chat," he tells you, not bothering to acknowledge Scott. "We should do this again, sweetheart."

"What did he want?" Scott demands, move to stand in front of you after Tyler’s gone.

"Oh, nothing. Just... saying hi."

Scott's jaw tenses, and he steps into your space, cupping your elbow. "You shouldn't talk to him," he advises.

When he tilts his head to stare down at you, something flickers in his dark brown eyes that looks an awful lot like jealousy. You glance over your shoulder at Tyler, only to have Scott say your name again, more forcefully. When you turn back around your suspicions are confirmed. For the first time since that night in the hotel room, you have Scott’s full attention and that sends a thrill of excitement through you.

You bite your lip, the beginning of an idea coming together.

Part 1 is now out!

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters

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raven-dor · 5 months ago

Text

come back to me

In which gwayne hightower leaves his wife asleep before the battle, and she worries over his return

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: allusions to nsfw, angst, old friends, hurt/comfort, arguing (not actual arguing, just reader letting out her worry), fluffy ending

WORD COUNT: 2,994

Her emerald green dress flowed with the wind as she stood on their shared balcony, staring at the town below. He always admired her from afar, she was angelic, Gwayne had come to realize over the years. He walked behind her, his arms snaking around her waist, a gentle touch that spoke volumes as to how much he treasured her. “Come to bed, my love.”

She hummed, leaning her head back into his chest. “If I come to bed, this night will end, and that will mean you are leaving.” She shook her head, her resistance palpable in the air. “So I will not.”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Will you deny your lord husband the pleasure of your company before he goes into battle?”

She laughed, twisting in his hold. “Is this a request or a demand?”

“It is a plea.” He leaned down, inches away from her lips. “I do not wish to leave on bad terms. This battle will be one for the histories.” He shivered, pulling her closer. “Indulge me.”

She leaned forward, cruelly teasing him. Quickly, she pulled back, escaping his hold easily. She walked past him, smirking. “If we must.”

He grabbed her wrist, spinning her back to him. She gasped, her knees weakening under his piercing gaze. Gwayne had always had a hold on her, even long before they were promised to each other, and she was just the Dowager Queen’s childhood friend. He was a good man; he always had been. “You know I would never force myself on you, my lady. But I must confess…” He leaned down, whispering. “If I do not kiss you, I will surely die.”

She giggled, reaching for his lips. “We cannot have that, can we?”

He collided her lips with his, groaning. “My darling girl…”

“Take me to bed, Gwayne.” She murmured, linking her lips with his once more. “Please.”

“Whatever you wish, my love.” He grabbed her thighs, wrapping her legs around him with ease. “Whatever you wish.”

The sun peaked through their wide-open curtains, stirring her from her otherwise peaceful sleep. She rolled over, reaching out for her husband. Her reach came up empty, his side of the bed still warm. She gasped, realizing what he had done. She sat up quickly, calling for her maid. “Help me dress.”

The young girl nodded. “Which dress would you-”

“It does not matter!” She snapped. “I am sorry, truly. Any dress, just do it quickly.”

The maid threw on her frock, a simple green velvet slip that she typically wore when exploring the woods surrounding Old Town. Smiling gratefully, she raced through the halls, not caring for the looks that followed her. The doors to the courtyard burst open, and she scanned quickly for her husband. The Dowager Queen stood alone in the center, staring at the gate. Gathering herself, she approached, curtsying. “My Queen.”

Alicent smiled lightly. “No need for such formalities. We were once friends, Y/N.”

She ignored the request. “Has your brother-”

The queen nodded knowingly. “He just left, I’m afraid.” She put a comforting hand on her sister-in-law’s shoulder. “He did not want to wake you.”

“I-” Tears began to well, and she coughed. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Y/N, wait!”

She had already dashed up the stairs, her tears now fully streaming down her cheeks.

It had been over a month before she’d received word that the battle was over and the surviving soldiers would be returning home. In that month, not one letter from Gwayne had graced her room or, more accurately, her cell. The Red Keep was a prison now, though if Gwayne came back, she would not tell him. He loved his family dearly, especially his sister and learning of his wife’s distaste for them would surely cause a rift.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what had only been twenty years ago, when she, Alicent, and Rhaenyra would sit in the gardens, jesting about tutors and gossiping about knights of the realm. When Alicent left to attend to her father, Rhaenyra would look over at Y/N, teasing her about her budding crush on Alicent’s brother.

She had not seen Rhaenyra in years. Now, her nephew by law had usurped her throne, and there was nothing Y/N could do but watch. She had no dragon, no power of her own. Which she had been contempt of before her husband had been dragged into this whole mess. Thanks to her nephew, he might never return to her. All she could do now was count down the days until the horns blew, and she stood in the courtyard, raking over the faces in the crowd until she found Gwaynes.

A knock rang through her chambers, her guard's voice coming through the door. “My lady, the Dowager Queen, would like to see you.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath. “I will be out in a moment.”

Alicent rarely called for her anymore. The last time had been when Viserys had died, a letter arrived to Old Town not for her brother, the Lord Paramount, but for you. For you to come.

You had not; after all, you had just given birth to your second child, and you were too frail to walk. Gwayne had refused to even let you entertain the notion, insisting that your health came before his sister, even if she was the queen.

Her chamber doors were wide open, and Alicent sat at her table, tea and two glasses in front of her. The Queen smiled, waving away her servants and guard. “Leave us.”

“But my lady…”

“My sister-in-law is no threat, Sir Rickard.” The older man nodded, ushering the servants out of her chambers and closing the doors soundly behind him. “Are you well?”

“As well as I can be, my lady.” Y/N smiled. “And yourself?”

“As well as one can be, I suppose.” The two former friends sat in silence, sipping their tea. The fire crackled behind them, and Y/N began to wonder what exact moment had caused a rift in their friendship.

“I must tell you something.” Alicent looked torn like she was fighting herself to stay silent. “You must not tell anyone, not even my brother.”

“Of course.” She nodded quickly. “Of course, Alicent.”

“I made a mistake.” Her face was ghostly white. “Aegon–” She gasped, a sob wrecking through her body. Y/N froze, unsure of what to do. “He was never supposed to be king. I misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood?”

“Viserys, he was spouting nonsense about Aegon the Conquerer, and I thought-” She scoffed. “I misunderstood.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, staring at the fire. “You mean to tell me that this entire war started because of a misunderstanding?” Alicent remained silent. “Alicent, you must tell Rhaenyra. Before it’s too late.”

The queen laughed. “It’s already too late. Her son is dead; my grandson was viciously murdered in his own bed. She would not see me. You remember how stubborn she is.”

Y/N knelt in front of Alicent, taking her hands in hers. “Alicent, for the good of the realm, you must meet with Rhaenyra and come to an agreement. Atrocities have been dealt by both sides, but if you tell her this…” She shivered. “It would save thousands. It would save your brother, Helaena, your…guard.” She tightened her hold on her old friend's hands. “Please.”

“I-” She nodded, not trusting her voice to stay collected. Y/N stood, dusting off her dress and sitting back down.

“Have you heard any word of your brother?”

“None.” It was Alicent’s turn to hold her hand. “He will return to you, I am sure. He is a great knight.”

She nodded. “He is; that is what worries me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He would never leave his men behind. Even if that meant…” She trailed off, sighing. “You understand.”

Alicent nodded, her heart at the bottom of her stomach. Her old friend had always been melancholy since childhood. Her parents had perished in a horrible accident, and she had been a ward of the crown ever since. She could not bear to be the cause of her further grief.

“How are the children?”

“Well. Daeron writes that Arthur is practically as talented at the sword as he. Emma is still just a babe, but she grows larger by the day.” She murmured. “As far as I’ve heard.”

“You will be back with them soon; I promise you that.” Alicent smiled. “I understand what it is like to miss a child.”

Y/N nodded, but she knew Alicent could never understand. How could she? She had never been forced to leave her children to come and serve a usurper of a king.

The horns had blown midday only two days later. Y/N’s worry for her husband had turned into anger over the past months, anger that he did not say goodbye to her before he went off to war. She’d been sitting on her balcony when the deep sound blared through the city, rousing her out of her stupor. Even if she was angry with her husband, that did not mean her heart did not yearn to be in his arms, to be kissed like it was the last moment they would ever live. Her dress billowed behind her as she ran, again not bothering to acknowledge the prying eyes that followed. She slowed, and two guards opened the doors slowly, slower than she would have liked.

Walking down the staircase gracefully, she tried to keep her composure when she could not find Gwayne in the crowd below. Her heart dropped, and she clenched her fists, nausea bubbling in her stomach. She was too young to be a widow, too young to raise two children on her own, too young to-

“My lady.” She turned around, almost sobbing at the sight. There stood her lord husband, in all his glory. His hair was dirty, his skin broken, but all Y/N saw was her love before her and alive.

She bowed, making no movement to embrace him.

“Lord Husband. I am most grateful for your return.”

His eyebrows raised, a smirk gracing his delicate face. “How formal of you, my dear.”

She huffed, turning on her heels and walking back into the castle. Gwayne followed behind swiftly, entirely confused as to why he did not have her in his arms. They walked in silence to their chambers, servants stilling at the sight of Gwayne. “Leave us.” He ordered, not sparing a second glance. They scurried out, the doors shutting loudly.

He stared at her curiously. “My Love-”

“Let me dress your wounds.” She sighed, walking over to their wardrobe. “It seems you have many.”

He nodded but made no movement to sit or remove his armour. “Darling-”

“Turn for me, my lord. I need to remove your armour.”

He nodded once more, turning as requested. The tension was palpable, but neither of them made any effort to break it. She quickly removed his armour, setting it delicately on the table. “Sit.”

She stood in front of him, leaning down to dress his wounds. His hands ached to reach out and pull her into his lap, but he made no effort; he simply stared at her. “Was the battle difficult?”

He nodded, hissing as she disinfected a cut. She mumbled apologies. “It was quite the scene. A dragon’s fight is something I hope you never witness.” Y/N simply hummed, concentrating on the cut. “Did you fare well while I was away?”

She tensed, nodding quickly. “As well as one can do when their husband leaves without a word.”

Ah. So that is why she had not jumped into his arms when he arrived. Gwayne had wondered why he had not been making his wife sigh and gasp from his tender touch. “I thought it was best if-”

“You thought wrong.” She murmured, walking over to the bowl of clean water. He couldn’t fight it anymore, reaching out to grab her hips. She gasped but made no effort to look down.

“Please forgive me.” He tightened his hold, dropping his head against her stomach. “I did not want to wake you.”

“So I was told.” He looked up, and she sighed. “Your sister.”

“You looked so peaceful; I did not wish to see you cry.”

She laughed humourlessly. “Who said I would waste any tears on you?”

He sat back, clutching his chest playfully. “You wound me, wife.”

She scoffed, squirming in his hold. “You cannot charm me into forgiving you.”

“I made no such claim.”

“Yes, well.” She sighed, pulling out of his arms and rinsing the rag. “You thought it. Of that, I am sure.”

He smiled. Her spirit had always drawn him in. From the first day they had met, she had not withered at the sight of a lord. She held her ground, staying as strong as she was. “Withering is for flowers,” she told him. “I am no flower.” He laughed, placing a daisy behind her ear. “No. But you are as pretty as one.” That had made her blush. How he wished they could go back to then when everything was much simpler. When the thought of dragon fire didn’t threaten their very lives, their children’s lives.

She stood back in front of him, but this time, he put his hands on her hips, pulling her into his lap. Her cheeks grew red, and she looked down at his neck, tending to a rather nasty bruise. “My love, please look at me.”

“I can’t look at you.” She shook her head defiantly. “I am angry at you.”

“Y/N-” He cupped her cheek with his hand, caressing it with his thumb.

“Don't!” She yelped like she’d been burned, jumping up. “You left me. I woke up, and you were gone. No note, no kiss goodbye. What if you had died?” She scoffed. “But no, ‘I looked too peaceful to wake.’ That is a horrid excuse. You’re a coward, Gwayne Hightower. A coward.”

Gwayne stood up, his eyebrows furrowed. “Now, wait just a moment-” She hit his chest, tears streaming down her face. “How could you? Do you know how worried sick I was? Do you?”

“Stop this.”

She shook her head, continuing to beat at his chest. “Don’t ever do-”

He grabbed her wrists delicately, stopping her. “Stop this madness.” His voice was gentle, not a trace of anger or annoyance found.

She sobbed. “You mongral. Let me-”

“I understand that you are upset, my darling. But surely you realize this is not the solution.” He lowered his head, their lips inches apart. “I wanted to remember my happy girl. No tears.”

“I wouldn’t have cried.” She murmured, still fighting against his hold.

“As opposed to what you are doing now?”

She glared at his chest. “You are without a doubt the most-” Releasing one of her wrists, he brought his hand to her chin, raising her head gently. When she still refused to look at him, he leaned down, kissing her nose, cheeks, and forehead until she finally gave in to his love.

“I have to admit, I was rather disappointed at the reception I received.”

“If only you had left a note.” She mumbled. “Never do that to me again. Promise me, Gwayne.”

He nodded, kissing each knuckle gently. “I swear to you.”

She wanted to take him to bed, admire his form, and thank the gods old and new that he was with her and not dead on a battlefield, but the reality was he still had many cuts that needed to be tended to, and he desperately needed get the stench of battle off his skin.

“You need a bath.”

“Are you insinuating that I smell?” Gwayne tilted his head, a jesting look on his face. She nodded, giggling.

“Terribly.”

He groaned, letting her out of his hold. “Very well.”

Y/N couldn’t help but wince as she watched him peeled off his shirt. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it-” She glared, and he gave in immediately. “Fine, fine.”

She nodded, carefully untying the top before lifting his shirt. Her cheeks grew bright red, his torso still as muscular as the day they were married. Throwing his shirt on the ground, her breath caught. His eyes were piercing hers once more, drawing her in. She smiled, kissing a cut on his chest gently. “Does this hurt?”

It was his turn for his breath to catch. He shook his head, words failing. Another cut, another bruise; she followed the trail until it stopped at a cut on his lower lip.

“My noble boy.” She kissed his lip lightly, sending shivers down the brave knight’s spine. This time, when he gave her that look, she couldn’t resist it. She placed her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers. “I missed you so.”

He groaned, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I’m so sorry, my darling. Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I was acting a fool.” She sighed as he nipped down her neck. “Gwayne, the bath…”

“I promise you I will bathe, but if I do not have you this instant, I will simply combust.”

They stumbled over to the door, locking it haphazardly. “Take me to bed.”

“I will, I will, but first…” He turned her around, undoing her laces quickly. He groaned. “Good god, woman, how many laces can a dress have?”

She laughed, throwing her head back. “Woman?”

“Forgive me. My lady, light of my life, darling, love-”

Now she was fully cackling, and turned around, smothering his face his affection. “Let us retire, please.”

He nodded, the laces finally coming undone. She stumbled backward, drawing him in with her spell. He tapped his chin, tilting his head. “I was about to do something.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I believe, lord husband, you were about to ravish me.”

He grinned, stalking towards her. “Thank you, my lady, for reminding me.”

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #team black #team green #alicent hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #x reader #fanfiction #got fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fluff #hotd #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #literature #🪩! fics

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