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[eskumii]

❝ TROPHY WIFE ❞ — yandere!uzui tengen/wives + you're his first wife

SYNOPSIS: suppose you're uzui tengen's very first wife, the one that slipped through the cracks of your unwanted arranged marriage with him. along with your disappearance went his heart, and now you must bear the consequences of a man who loves his wife far beyond her understanding—so much so that he would kill for her, die for her, and do anything to make her stay. — navi.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

NOTES: mdni! (cw: non-con) this is an arranged/forced marriage au. it's meant to be one-sided. it took me quite literally forever to finish this lol ,,

PAIRING: yandere!uzui tengen x wife!reader

CHARACTERS: uzui tengen (19-23), reader (18-22), suma (19), makio (20), hinatsuru (21)

I. TO BE WED

imagine being uzui tengen's very first wife.

your hand in marriage was promised to him by your parents, who owned a tax-collecting business that was often the target of hostility from the impoverished people of your hometown. tengen routinely passed through your village on demon slayer business, so your parents could always rest assured knowing he would take care of the violent stragglers that sometimes loitered outside.

ironically being poor themselves, they had little to offer the hashira as payment for his noble duties; well, that "little" didn't exclude you of course, their only daughter who's failed to find a husband far past the age of when other girls were normally wed. you're still young, fertile, and moderately attractive, but your strong disinterest in potential suitors often drove any chances of a wealthy marriage away.

however, after being introduced to tengen, the man you'll be forced to marry out of obligation, you begin to regret being so stubborn after all.

admittedly, tengen found you to be pretty plain at first. you're poor so you can't exactly dress flashy, and you come from a no-name family with little legacy. your parents swore up and down on your domestic efficiency—hardworking, great cook, a tame disposition—and, well, at least you're kind of cute, too. tengen is intrigued by your potential the most.

your parents force you to do whatever you can to get close to him. the truth is, though, you don't really have to do anything with the way he seeks you out himself. he often shows up at your door asking for you, and your parents have no qualms about dragging you out of your room to make you go out with him.

he takes you to the nicer parts of town and pays for dinner or buys you flowers and little trinkets from the shop vendors that line the streets. it doesn't help that the elderly people running the stands egg you on, saying things like "what a lovely young couple" or "your children would be so beautiful!" tengen simply smiles with ease, accepting their praise as if it's second nature. you get rather embarrassed by his shameless indulgence.

there's small talk but you find it incredibly stifling. tengen does a majority of the dialoguing but most of the time your dates get interrupted by his kasugai crow, who squawks at him whenever a demon shows up nearby. he always looks annoyed and promises to make it up to you, leaning down to pat your head like you're his pet dog or something. you hate it and him too, probably.

"i'll be back before you know it, darling," his smile is charming but not to you. "you'll stay right here for me, won't you?"

regardless of your somewhat obvious hesitance to accept his advances, tengen gets attached to you like it was meant to be. the idea of having a pretty little housewife for him to come home to after his draining missions becomes increasingly attractive, and the more time he spends with you, the more he sees the appeal of your being. it must be a miracle that no man has taken you as his wife yet; surely you were saving yourself for a man like him.

unfortunately, though, you don't want to marry tengen.

an arranged marriage? it's simply not the kind of life you envision for yourself. you aren't willing to bet the rest of your days on a man whom you have a slim chance of falling in love with, all for the sake of financial security. but what else can you do? your parents already made it very clear they would disown you if you refuse, and tengen is pressuring you to your death with his sweet words and annoyingly thoughtful presents. you're stuck.

eventually, the incessant nagging from your parents and weeks of endless courting from tengen sway you so sooner. you fold like a cheap hand fan and succumb to your fate, to a future you knew from the very beginning that you would come to despise.

he's the only suitor you have at this point. it's not like you have a choice. and the one choice you do have just so happens to be him, a man who is the nearest thing to a perfect match as you're ever gonna get. you should be happy. thankful. he'll give you the world if you just give him a chance.

at least, that's what he told you.

II. THE SOUND HASHIRA

your parents are so happy to send you off.

they're completely honored that their letdown of an only daughter is finally getting married—to a well-known and wealthy shinobi at that. it's the only time they've shown any pride in you, yet it really only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

after your brief introduction to the head of tengen's clan, everything moves so quickly. just a couple weeks later, you're already signing a marriage contract in which you and tengen become official newlyweds. and before you know it, you're packing what little belongings you have to your name and moving in with him, begrudgingly and regretfully so.

the day you arrive, he shows you around his overwhelmingly gigantic residence; the courtyard full of cherry blossoms and koi ponds, the huge kitchen, and the bedroom where he'll eventually fully claim you. there's lots of other rooms too, but they're either empty or reserved for his weapons and training gear. he tries to hide it but he's obviously so over the moon that you're his wife now. he doesn't even notice your misery through his elated delusion of love.

in hindsight, you didn't realize how difficult it can be to share a space with someone you hardly know. you find everything awkward but tengen doesn't, like always. to him, you're so obedient and polite— such a good girl. you take whatever he gives you; kisses, hugs, subtle gropes here and there, and all of his sweet compliments and gifts. you don't argue with him or raise your voice, you fret over his injuries and make his favorite foods. you're observant, collected, and mature.

he didn't have a type before he met you—you're all he can ask for in a woman, really.

tengen is unexpectedly romantic. he constantly boasts about his strength and fighting skills in order to impress you, and he never stops mouthing off about how he'll prioritize you over himself. he puts consistent effort in getting to know you: what you like, don't like, your favorite color, and any other inkling of your personality that he can manage to wrestle out of you. he seems to have gotten the impression that you're shy or something.

flowers are a constant and you're spoiled with fancy, expensive kimonos and jewelry. had you married tengen under literally any other circumstance, you'd find his advances on you endearing but, unfortunately, he just comes off as clingy and unbearable. any woman would die to be in your place yet you can't even find it in you to want to be in your own place.

what do you think of him, though? well, he's handsome, you'll give him that. you don't deny the appeal of his good looks and flashy, fitted clothing. he's strong, established, and knows what he wants. despite your obvious distaste towards his gifts and grandiose personality, it's not to say you're ungrateful that the man you're stuck with is exceedingly well-off and capable of protecting you. you can't say he's a bad guy.

however, he's a moron.

he fell for you fast. a couple months have already passed since coming to live in his residence. tengen requests to have picnics whenever you go with him to visit his siblings' graves on his off days. of course you have no reason to refuse; as much as you dislike him, you're not heartless. they're important days, so you swallow your pride and pack a bento spread you know he'll like.

tengen will confide in you about the memories of his late siblings, his parents, and his life before becoming a hashira. it's a depressing and heavy weight to shoulder, but you still play your role of the loving, supportive wife with your lingering touches and comforting words. you use these outings as opportunities to gain his trust by being vulnerable.

except, this time, the effect you seem to have on tengen is magnified to the point of no return.

he pulls you into his lap and you're suddenly flush against his rock hard chest, trapped in a suffocating hug. you don't know what prompted his sudden affection; perhaps it was the warm atmosphere you crafted or the intimacy of the moment, but the way tengen holds you so close is telling. he's about to say something you've been dreading since the day you met him.

"i love you." tengen confesses, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing as if he'd just released the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

you knew it. it's the first time he's ever said it to you and you'll never forget the wave of nausea that hit you as you glanced up to see him staring back at you expectantly. your heart is pumping out of your chest and your face is flustered—not because you're flattered but because you're ashamed. you feel his hands squeeze your shoulders, almost like a warning, and his grip begins to feel claustrophobic after your prolonged silence.

you have no choice but to reciprocate.

"...I love you too." your voice is quiet, hesitant, and tengen gently teases you about being shy when you refuse to look at him anymore. he's not right but it's true that lying invokes shame.

he almost seems overwhelmed by your response, as if he hadn't just nonverbally threatened it out of you. you don't dare to sneak even a glance at him. he tightens his embrace around you and goes back to burying his face abashedly into your neck, mumbling sweet words against your skin. his body wraps around you like a vice, trapping you in the prison that is his dreadful existence.

you decide, in that very moment, that there was nothing in the world you wanted to do more than run away.

III. A DIRE MISTAKE

one fateful day, you catch wind of the news that tengen is being assigned on a mission quite far away, somewhere down in the southwest. 

you're so lucked out that you thought it was a trap at first—a ploy to catch you in your undying desire to leave your husband for good. but when the day of departure arrives and tengen peppers your face with last minute kisses, you know for sure that there's no chance he's caught on to your resentment towards him, nor the plan of escape you've been devising all along.

your eyes are teary when tengen releases you from the last of his spine-crushing hugs and he cooes at your cute crying face. honestly, you're tearing up out of joy because your one and only chance to escape has literally fallen into your lap in a pleated handbasket, but you'll let him believe otherwise. you at least owe him the courtesy. 

you already know you don't stand a chance against tengen, at least physically. he can overpower you like nothing and he's so tall that he towers over you, constantly caging you between those muscled arms of his. there's almost nothing you could do against a man like him—well, unless you count poisoning, but you were above murder when it came to getting what you wanted. 

as soon as tengen passes through the looming gates of the residence and disappears down the winding road, you scramble to gather a few belongings before making your way out through the back. there's a twinge of fear that grips your gut but you press on, determined to put as much space between you and that wretched place you were expected to call home. 

the moment you escaped, you flipped your identity. chopped your hair off, powdered your face in white make-up, and wore headscarves wherever you went. you fled as far as your feet would take you, only stopping to rest in a small village when your aching body could take you no further. you hardly spoke to anyone and left nothing behind that could possibly be traced back to you or be used to pursue you. 

it's obvious you can't go back to your parents; they hated you when you lived with them, and they'd hate you more if you returned. they'd sell you out to tengen in two seconds flat, then ruthlessly shame you for running away from a marriage you wanted no part in. the only option left for you is to create a new life for yourself somewhere far, far away. 

and that's exactly what you do. you find a little town on the outskirts of the red light district, where business is booming and it's easy to disguise yourself beneath the constant foot traffic. you go undercover as a seamstress, working in a homely tailor shop under the supervision of the owners, who are a kind older couple that are quick to regard of you as one of their own. 

time marches on and the jarring memories of tengen do as well. you makes friends with the regulars that come by the store often. you've learned the valuable trade of mending clothing and sewing traditional patterns. you've even developed a crush on one of the men that come by often to repair his work uniform.

your life is finally the way you've always wanted it to be. 

meanwhile, tengen copes—barely. days pass. weeks. months. you're still yet to be found, even with the help of all the hashira and the shinobi of his clan. it's as if you disappeared off the face of the planet. he's completely devastated. did you run away because he was gone for so long? were you feeling neglected? did you just want his attention? surely you wouldn't just up and leave when he'd been so loving; he truly couldn't think of anything that would prompt such an extreme reaction. 

as expected, he doesn't come up with a justification for your disappearance. how could he? you could be dead by now with the amount of demon uprisings that have been happening lately. or you could even be halfway across the world right now, laughing at how easily you had fooled him. eventually, his sadness melts into anger. you may be gone now, but it won't be for long. 

wherever you are, he'll find you. 

IV. 'TIL DEATH DO HIM PART

in the following years, tengen's next three wives are chosen specifically by the head of his clan.

and, in the head of the clan's words: "the sound hashira's decision-making must be incredibly poor if he chose a wife who would dare flee from him." the statement only fans the flames of his growing wrath for you. 

however, his new wives—suma, makio, and hinatsuru—are all beautiful and talented kunoichi who admire him to their very cores. as ungrateful as it sounds, there isn't a day where tengen wishes one of them were you. they've worked so hard to try and fill the gaping hole in his existence that was left by you, but it hasn't really been working. he needs you.

they're kind, caring, nurturing and most of all, strong. they've trained all their lives to be kunoichi. he knows he shouldn't complain but they just don't cook like you, look like you... aren't you. of course he loves them, but he could never forget the way his heart shattered the day he returned home to find you nowhere in sight. your disappearance left him in utter shambles. did you ever think about that when you left? you're so unbelievably selfish—is that the kind of woman you turned out to be? 

his wives constantly question his lovesick behavior. tengen never hides anything from them; in fact, he'll sometimes go on long, borderline maniacal rambles about "the wife who got away." to suma, makio, and hinatsuru, you're an enigma that's broken the heart of their husband, and they're not sure what it was about you that makes him act this way. jealousy sparks—if there's a way to get you back to make tengen happy, they would do it, but maybe you're better off gone after all. 

and it's not like tengen didn't search for you. oh no, he looked everywhere within reason. his duties as a hashira kept him chained to his missions near the demon slayers' headquarters, but that never stopped him from interrogating people when he got the chance. any woman that looked even remotely similar to you was sure to be stopped in the middle of the street for further investigation. 

master kagaya is exceedingly understanding of the situation, and he bears obvious concern for his beloved sound hashira. while he's sympathetic of the loss of his wife—it's no matter to be taken lightly, of course—tengen must first be loyal to his occupation as a hashira, and that means going on missions in spite of his mourning. 

and his newest missions leads him to the red light district. 

so tengen goes. he knows his place when it comes to master kagaya, so he has no reason or authority to deny orders. regardless, it's a harrowing and tedious task. drunk concubines practically throw themselves into tengen's arms as he strolls past the many underground sex clubs that line the filthy streets. he has zero interest in any of the debauchery that goes on here, and he especially feels nothing when shoving them away from him with excessive force. 

he scours the area for anyplace that looks decent enough to step foot in, as well as a place where he won't get immediately harassed by ran through harlots. turning down a quieter side street where some storefronts have been shuttered, he happens upon a small seamstress shop sandwiched between two restaurants that look as if they've closed early for the evening. 

shrugging, tengen wearily thinks it's as good of a place as any to begin his intel gathering on the upper moons' whereabouts. he saunters towards the front entrance and a young woman dressed in traditional geisha wear passes him on the sparsely populated road, her wooden sandals clacking against the ground. he can't help but think her hair looked similar to yours and his heart twists painfully in his chest. 

tengen seems to be constantly haunted by the thought of you, forming an obsession in his mind that won't go away until he has you back. until he knows your safe, with him, just like you were meant to be. until he sees you. 

no, literally, tengen sees you, right in front of him. 

through the window of the upscale seamstress shop, he sees you conversing with a man at the front counter, laughing heartily at a joke he must have made. tengen quickly crouches beneath the display window to spy on you, his heart pounding out of his chest at the events that are currently unfolding. he must be mistaken. 

he peeks above the lip of the window to catch a glance and, sure enough, it is you. you're alive and well, almost glowing beneath the low, intimate lighting inside the shop. 

he finally found you! he can't believe it. the grin that's stretching across his face is so broad. he'd recognize your face anywhere, even if it's caked in geisha makeup and your hair elaborately styled. you’re beautiful and he’s captivated by your beauty just as he was the day that he met you. 

he's so unbelievably ecstatic with the way his hands are clamming up, his feet shuffling in the dirt and... 

what?

creeping over the ledge of the display window once again, tengen's eyes immediately grow dark. there's a man there. talking to you. his wife. 

in the midst of your conversation, your eyes absently float over to the window. it's there that your gaze clashes with his, and a blood-curdling look of terror overtakes your features. is that… tengen? 

there's a shift in the air. what happens next, tengen doesn't recall, but when he comes to there's blood on his hands and your hair is bundled up in his fist as he drags you past the threshold the of the shop’s entrance. he looks over his shoulder and on the floor, spread eagle, lies the man without his head. the scene is gruesome.

he killed him. 

tengen looks down at you with a solemn gaze. for some reason, he doesn't even care. the emotions running through him are almost too much to bear. do you know how much your disappearance has destroyed him? do you know how much he's suffered because of you? do you even care? 

he doesn't understand why you're crying. it seems like you were happy enough to whore around with other men in his absence. the thought drives him to the brink of insanity. how much longer do you plan on humiliating him? 

there's too much to be said. tengen's mouth is agape and he's so upset at you that he can't find the right words to express himself. instead, he collapses to the floor beside you and embraces you in his longing arms. he smells your hair and feels how your body shrinks against his—it's all exactly how it used to be. it's exactly as he remembered, as he dreamed of. 

and now, as tengen scoops you up into his arms to take you back home, another dream of his will be fulfilled tonight. he knows exactly what kind of punishment is befit for you. 

V. A JUST PUNISHMENT — (NSFW: NON-CON)

"tengen-sama! you're ba-" 

a woman with colored bangs and a ponytail attempts to greet tengen as he enters, but she's cut off by not only the expression on his face but also the strange, disheveled woman he's hauling behind him. 

he drags you across the cold, laminated wood floors into the bedroom by your hair and peels the delicate, silken layers of your yukata back, exposing soft flesh and ample curves. tengen is so starved of your touch—of your voice, your scent, you. he'll make you pay for what you put him through. he'll make you stay this time. 

you can't even fight back. you're so afraid of what's going to happen that your body refuses to move, to speak. and even if you could, there was no way you would win against a hashira, of all people. 

tengen starts by pushing you to your knees. when his hands begin the hasty work of undoing the belt of his kimono, you already know where this is going and it makes your stomach churn in volatile sickness. he eagerly slides his under pants down and from the top of its elastic band springs his semi-hard cock, which nearly hits you in the face. you gasp at the sheer size of it; that is not gonna fit inside of you.

"don't look at me like that, [name]. clearly i was too lenient with you back then. i should've disciplined you..." he trails off as he stares into your pleading eyes. he smiles but, in it, is no mercy.

"c'mon, baby. you'll be a good girl and open your mouth for me, won't you?" 

you refuse. no, you wouldn't even dream of it. you've never done anything sexual with a man before and you certainly aren't going to wi—

tengen suddenly reaches down and grabs ahold of your now tangled hair with one of his large hands. it takes barely any pressure before your mouth is pried open by the force of his fingers alone, and his now engorged cock head is being stuffed into your warm, unyielding mouth. 

you can only let out a choked cry at the vile intrusion. 

"that's it, baby, good girl.." he praises, stroking your head with his thumb as he slowly inches his pulsing cock down your throat. 

your screams are completely muffled. tengen begins to pick up the pace, letting your drool be the lubricant that allows his giant dick to slide in and out of your tight throat. it hurts so bad that you try to bite down and free yourself from this act of vulgarity, but tengen doesn't allow it. he instead tugs your head back by the grip he has on your hair, forces his cock all the way in, and holds you there until you decide to behave yourself. 

you can hardly breath. lewd, wet noises fill the room as tengen gags you almost to the point of unconsciousness. the vibrations from your screaming must have been making him feel good, though, because it takes just a few minutes before he's shuddering in orgasm as he bottoms out and cums, which you have no choice but to swallow. 

he pulls out of your mouth and you're mortified, but even more so when you see how he's still hard. his cock is covered in a thick layer of your saliva and his cum drips onto your exposed chest in globs that make you cringe in disgust. you think you're going to throw up. 

and you almost do, if it weren't for tengen picking you up from under your arms and tossing you onto the plush bedding. your legs are forced open and tengen slides his twitching cock against your pussy, slowly and teasingly. you begin to fight against him but he easily pins you down long enough to push his fat cock head into your tight pussy. 

tengen pounds you into the plush cushion of the futon all night long. you've given up struggling and crying, only mewling in pain as the brutish man stretches your virgin pussy wide. he ruthlessly kneads your breasts with his calloused palms and overstimulates your clit with his fingers until you cream and squirt repeatedly all over his dick. you can do nothing but lay there as he roughly moves your body into various positions and fills your womb with his seed—there's no way you won't be pregnant after this. 

all the pent up rage that tengen was forced to weather after your disappearance is released in that very room. he sounds like a crazy man with the way he lapses in and out of fits of rage where he's cursing at you with his hands around your throat, then slipping into pleasure induced "i love you's" as he dumps yet another load of cum deep inside of you. 

"h-how does it feel, my love?" he groans, reaching over to caress your flushed face. "mm, you sound so cute making those noises. lemme hear you scream, darling."

and oh, you sure do scream. for him to stop, to get off of you. that you've had enough. that you hate him. over and over again you scream, you cry, and you struggle, but it does you no good. he only seems to thrust faster the more you beg. is he getting off to your desperation? he must be by the way his cock pulses at any form of physical resistance from you. 

you thought it would never end. he's almost insatiable. your tears have long dried up—for the most part, anyway—but the skin on your face feels raw from tengen "lovingly" wiping all your tears and snot away while simultaneously pounding a you-shaped hole into the futon. you feel disgusting. you don't even have the strength to make a sound when he spanks you for the hundredth time, moaning heatedly about how you've been such a bad, bad girl. 

when it seems like he's finally spent, he doesn't pull out. instead, he collapses on top of you with his cock still twitching inside your sloppy, ruined cunt while drawing you in for an unreciprocated kiss. he whispers praises in your ear and gently strokes your face, cooing at how much you're trembling against his much larger form. 

"i should've done this a long time ago. maybe you wouldn't have left if i dumped my kids into you sooner." 

eventually, his softened cock slips out of you and a gush of warmth runs down your legs; you can already feel a soreness settling in your pelvis. tengen sighs contentedly at the sopping squelch that sounds when you snap your legs shut in order to roll as far away from him as possible. he roughly wraps a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him as soon as he sees your attempt to create distance. 

"i missed you so much, darling," tengen mumbles against your skin breathily, offering a soft smile. "did you enjoy your welcome back?" 

he's making fun of you. you refuse to even look at him. it's to be expected, really, he can't imagine how bad it must feel to think you actually got away from him as you lay in his arms once again, right where you belong. you need to learn your place; no wife of his will disrespect him like you did ever again. if you have to be an example of that, then so be it—youput this on yourself, after all. 

leaving you with a final kiss, he gets up, wraps a towel around his waist, and goes to let his other wives into the room to help clean you up (they've been waiting patiently ever since you showed up, curious about the woman who supposedly "stole tengen's heart," as he put it). you're still naked and exposed with tengen's cum leaking down your thighs but you don't even have the mental capacity to care anymore. all three of the girls look shocked at the state you're in, but they don't comment and rush to get you in the bath. 

they're all very pretty, of course. when you emerge from your haze of disorientation, you're left reeling at the fact that tengen had amassed three whole wives in light of your absence. well, not that you have any right to be surprised considering your short lived emotional affair. you're still in mourning over what had happened to him. 

regardless of your fragile state, the three women swarm you with questions that prod at your past: who you are, where you're from, and how you met tengen. you don't even have half the mind to reply. you can only stare at your tear-stricken reflection in the soapy water, ready to burst into tears yet again at the horrible predicament you've found yourself in. 

what can you do now? sit around and get bred by tengen? rot away in this dreadful house for the rest of your life? the other wives seem to catch onto your unresponsiveness after a couple dozen of their questions go ignored, so they sit quietly and gently wash you clean. they look genuinely worried for you—not that their pity will undo the damage that's already been done. 

makio will scrub your back and grumble about how jealous she is while suma and hinatsuru fret over the small bruises that are now beginning to form around your hips from tengen's manhandling. suma washes your hair next, commenting on how beautiful it is, while the other two move onto rinsing the soap from your body. they wrap you up in a fluffy towel when it's over, and a shiver wracks your spine when their hands guide you to another room, down the hall, with a clean bed ready for you to rest in. 

you don't really know who they are but since they're dressed like kunoichi, it's obvious that they don't share the same mindset you do, or were forced to be wed to tengen like you were. you can't ask them to help you escape from this hell, not a chance. 

even as you lay in the criminally comfortable futon with new silken pajamas, a cup of cold water at your side, and a warm blanket, sleep doesn't find you. 

and with tengen around, you're certain it never will. 

VI. A HAPPY EVER AFTER (EXTRA)

a few months later, your pregnancy symptoms are in full swing.

tengen is as protective as ever and the other wives have already grown attached to you despite your bitter and unforgiving attitude towards them. you learn quickly that they're all very... obsessive, constantly hovering over you and going to overbearing extremes to make sure you don't do anything that would physically strain yourself in any way.

hinatsuru and makio follow at your heels like guard dogs while suma takes charge of most of the cooking and cleaning. she keeps the peace most of the time and holds makio back when she's attempting to murder hinatsuru over something childish. you're never in the mood to talk to them, however, and they often try to bribe you with your favorite sweets (which is intel that they've gathered from tengen) in order to get you to participate in their activities.

unluckily for you, tengen had decided to completely retire from being a hashira following a particularily harrowing encounter with an upper moon demon (even after you tried to subtly guilt trip him into not doing so). he insisted that you and the baby were "more important." you know that it'd be difficult to escape with the other wives around but to add tengen on top of that makes it surely impossible. 

every morning, the dreadful man himself meets the four of you in the kitchen and will beam proudly at the sight of his adorable little harem. he goes down the line and gives affection to each of his wives individually, in the way they prefer, and saves you for last as you're his "greatest prize," or whatever he said. you're just completely exhausted and you resent them all from the deepest depths of your heart. the least you can do is make it obvious. 

tengen finds your rebellion adorable. everything about you is and even moreso now than when you left him all those years ago. he'll grab you by the jaw and force you into a quick one-sided kiss, pulling away with that fond smile of his. his fingers ghost over your swelling tummy but his very touch makes you feel so awfully sick. you'll roughly push him away and he's so out of his mind that he attributes your justified anger and moodiness to your "pregnancy hormones." regardless, he's happy. it's you who's going to bear his child. it's you who first said you loved him too. as long as you live, you're bound to him as his wife. nothing can come between a man and the woman he loves; uzui tengen certainly made sure of that, didn't he?

[hopesangelsprite]

Finders Keepers

Synopsis: Illumi's been tasked to take out a rival family, leaving no survivors, and that's exactly what he does... with the exception of you.

Warnings: Dubcon/noncon, Unprotected p in v, Overstim, Dacryphilia, Light choking, Creampie (this is Illumi what'd you expect-), analifyousquint, fingering, mentions of bl00d

MINORS/AGELESS ACC DNI

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a telltale sign of the impending storm on the horizon. The wind was chilled and heavy with the smell of earth and smoke as Illumi watched. Below him was a compound, an estate of sorts, under the protection of a dozen armed guards. Past its walls he could see maids and servants busy with daily tasks, too caught up in the hustle and bustle of life to sense neither him nor the storm coming.

Though he couldn't see them, he knew that deeper inside the compound were his targets. It wasn't often his family attacked other families, getting by with sheer intimidation and wealth. Still, when rival families got out of line... they had to be dealt with accordingly. Thunder rumbled once more, this time closer, and Illumi stood from his perch on a high oak branch. This wouldn't take nearly as long as he thought it would.

Dealing with the first wave of guards was less than anticlimactic, each falling quicker than the last. The second wave was able to get a few shots off before they too succumbed to his needles. Illumi placed a hand on the main gate and pushed sending the heavy steel doors flying off their hinges. The screams and squelches of people being crushed met his ears as he made quick work of the servants outside, as well.

The stench of blood, death, and rain was thick in the air as he entered the estate's front doors. Illumi made his way through its walls, killing everyone he found as he traversed floor after floor. Finally, he reached the master bedroom, kicking past its weakly barricaded door, and stared into the terror-filled eyes of the last four living people in the house. "Consider me your reckoning.", he mused as he stepped into the room and began picking them off until no one was left.

He looked around at the carnage around him and sighed. The rain would be coming soon, and he wanted to be home by then. He turned to leave the room but stilled as sound met his ears. Illumi turned and scanned the room's interior, sure that no one he'd confronted had survived the massacre. Illumi spotted the cracked-open wardrobe almost immediately and rolled his eyes. He'd missed one.

He took several steps toward the wardrobe before it burst open, your teary-eyed figure pushing past him toward the open door. Illumi reached and grasped a handful of your hair before taking in your features. You were small, not much younger than him. Though you bore a striking resemblance to the older man and woman he'd just killed, his intel hadn't alluded to either of them having children.

Upon further inspection, he found you healthy-looking; a tad on the heavier side with plush thighs, your soft breasts heaving with every sob that shook your frame. You were quite attractive aside from how bloodshot your eyes were becoming as you begged him to spare you. It didn't sound like a bad idea the more Illumi looked you over. So, he slung you over his shoulder, advising you to keep your eyes shut as he stepped onto the bedroom's balcony.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You trembled as you crossed the threshold of the Zoldyck estate in Illumi's arms, eyes screwed shut in fear as he took you deeper into the mansion. You didn't bother trying to remember how many turns you were taking; it was becoming increasingly clear that you wouldn't be leaving alive. You only allowed your eyes to flutter open as the two of you entered a room, the door locking behind you.

Illumi sat you on the edge of a large bed, uncharacteristically gentle considering how brutally he'd ended the lives of those you loved minutes prior. "You've two choices: accept me voluntarily or involuntarily.", he offered as he let his blood-soaked top drop to the floor near the edge of the bed, "You'll find I'm much more agreeable should you choose the former.".

His belt and trousers dropped to the floor leaving him only in his underwear. Your face grew hot at the sight, your hands trembling at the weight of his words. Fighting would wax futile; you knew that well enough. Cold fingertips met your cheek and tilted your face toward his. A few more tears slipped from your eyes as you weakly clasped his wrist. "Please... don't d-do this.", you pleaded once more before Illumi leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle.", he hummed into your skin as leaned in more, caging you underneath him. His lips felt icy as they trailed across the expanse of your skin, stopping at your lips. You whimpered and Illumi swallowed the sound. You reciprocated his movements sloppily, unfamiliar with the motions. The kiss broke, a trail of saliva connecting your lips which he broke with a swipe of his thumb. "How cute.", he breathed into your skin as he began marking a fiery trail down your throat.

As he traveled lower, you clenched your teeth in hopes of silencing the tiny moans building in your throat. Illumi took a break from his attack on your breasts to look over your dress. "There's no use in trying to keep quiet, you'll only tire yourself out.", he mused as he tugged harshly on the fabric causing it to rip. Your bottom lip trembled at the sight of what was left of your favorite sundress fall to the floor, and Illumi noticed. "My apologies, little dove. I'll have you a boutiques worth of dresses here in the morning if you're good for me.", he explained as he rid you of your undergarments leaving you bare.

Your eyes flickered up to his face as he placed butterfly kisses down the expanse of your stomach, eyes dark with lust as they met yours. So, this was your life now. "P-promise?", you asked as your heart began to settle. Illumi rose and placed both hands on your thighs, pulling you until your bare core was flushed with his clothed member. He hummed as he leaned down, bracing himself on one forearm and slipping the other between the two of you to slide between your moistening folds. "I promise.", he assured you as two of his fingers scissored open your entrance, his thumb working over your bud with expert skill.

A broken whimper left you as you let yourself succumb to the pleasure, as you let yourself succumb to fate. Your body trembled as his ministrations quickened, a knot forming in the pit of your abdomen. Everything was so wrong, yet it felt so, so good.

Just as the knot within you came close to snapping, Illumi pulled his fingers from you. You whined in frustration as you watched him clean your slick from his fingers with his tongue before beginning to remove his underwear. You watched in awe and terror as his cock sprang free, tip flushed pink and dripping with his own arousal. He was just as pale there as the rest of his body, a bit longer than he was girthy. "That's n-not gonna fit...", you whispered into the air between you. For the first time since he'd taken you, he cracked a smile. "We'll make it fit, little dove.", he replied while easing you onto your stomach.

Illumi's lips met your shoulder, cold and soft, and traveled down your back causing you to shiver. He shifted a bit, resting his chin in the nook between your shoulder and neck. "This might sting a bit, for that I offer my apologies.", he warned as you felt his tip catch on your entrance. Your breath hitched as he rolled his hip forward, allowing the first few inches to slip inside you.

He was lying when he said it'd sting a bit. It hurt like hell. You yelped and pushed your face into one of the plush pillows beneath you to muffle the sound. Illumi cooed and whispered praises into your skin, voice laden with sympathy as he continued to fill you. He rolled his hips once more filling you up fully, his tip threatening to push past your cervix.

"Such a good girl taking all of me.", he purred as you lifted your teary eyes from the pillows, "Now, let me take the pain away.". With one hand, Illumi laced his fingers with yours while the other reached between you to resume abusing your clit. His pelvis retreated from the swell of your ass, all of him leaving your walls apart from his leaky head, before thrusting forward again slow and deep. The moan that left you would've made even the finest of whores blush.

His hips rolled on, the room filling with the obscene sound of your slick coating his cock and your little whimpers as the pain was swiftly washed away with mind-numbing pleasure. Illumi continued to praise you between quieter moans of his own only stopping to tug at the shell of your ear with his teeth.

The intimacy, the steady pace of his body colliding with yours; All of it was becoming too much for you to handle. Illumi shifted, his tip kissing your cervix too suddenly for your liking drawing a gasp of discomfort from your trembling lips. He hummed and abandoned your clit to steady himself before rising with you in tow. You yelped and scrambled to your elbows when you felt the pad of his thumb swipe over your ass, thrusts gaining in speed. "N-not there-", you tried to reason with him before your jaw slackened upon the foreign intrusion.

Your thighs shook, threatening to give out, as Illumi hooked his thumb into your spasming hole up to the first knuckle. Heat crept across your body at the feeling of the knot in the pit of your stomach snapping. "Coming already? Who knew my pretty girl was so perverted. ~", Illumi groaned. His words fell upon deaf ears, your mind blank and full simultaneously. You buried your face into the sheets beneath in a weak attempt to save face, orgasm taking you forcefully.

The walls of your cunt fluttered, painting his lower half with your arousal. Illumi hissed, thrusts growing sloppy, at the sight and grasped at the fat of your ass. "Look at that pretty little cunt of yours. Almost like she wants me to fill her up.", he practically mewled, "Isn't that right, little dove?". All you could do was cry out in response, thoughts occupied with the delicious drag and sting of his cock inside you. Illumi huffed at your lack of response, hand abandoning your ass cheek for the column of your neck and squeezed.

"I asked if you wanted me to paint your walls white, dove, now answer like the obedient little wife you're going to be.", he hissed into your ear. You nodded vehemently, head light from the lack of hair. "Yes, please cum in me! Please please please-", you babbled as another orgasm ignited your overstimulated core. A string of wild curses and strangled moans fell from Illumi's lips as his hips snapped forward once more, locking as hot ropes of cum filled your sputtering hole.

A few moments passed as both of you came down, your smaller body trembling, before Illumi relaxed and pulled both of you down to the mattress. You shifted and shuttered at the feeling of still being full while listening to his breathing. "I'll have a ring and paperwork ready for you by noon, so I suggest you get some rest.", he hummed whilst pulling the sheets over your bodies,

"Besides, I need you fully rested and ready to take me in the morning."

[dotster001]

i was gonna make this a comment but smthn told me this was gonna be long.

SORRY FOR THE LONG-NESS OF THIS ASK

BUT DOT- THINK ABOUT YAN DILF JADE.

who knows if his ex wife was murdered or not, oh well! 🤭 best not to dwell on it because it makes the twins sad :(

see? (🧍🏻🧍🏻)

…anyways

but here me out (this is me going coco bananas. full on psycho mode) maybe the first time he saw you was at a RANDOM party that a friend of yours hosted.

blah blah mutual friend of a friend and that long friend family tree stuff

but maybe you slithered away to the dog, or were tasked with helping a baby (more like someone threw the baby at you in order to dance)

or you’re with the other room for the children that the party provides (this is like a really rich friend. like mega mansion. crazy rich asians kinda thing)

but ugh he’s there with his dreadful beautiful wife and his wonderful children. and his wife is already leaving to grab a drink and he thinks their children shouldn’t get a glimpse at whatever tom-foolery parties like these will lead to.

so in they go! (maybe this was years ago when they’re toddlers)

but then he sees you swarmed with babies. the nanny took a break and left you in charge and you’re fighting back babies with one of those roll-pop lawn mowers-

ARGHHH ONE JUST SPAT ON THE END OF YOUR RENTAL DRESS DAMNIT.

jade is utterly beside himself with laughter, amusement, and everything of the sorts and creates flirty small talk. and oh?? what's this? his wonderful bundles of joy seem to have found a liking to you? how precious (they’re clawing and climbing you like a jungle gym) jade takes a note of that!

they don't even like their mother that much , simply tolerating her. but jade can tell that his kids got good taste!

he lowkey interviews reader (without them know oops!!) and while yes, their beauty was what drove his interest, second being their personality (you have to be attracted to someone to give them a chance!)

and the twins were the cherry on top!

and conveniently you say where you work (rookie mistake) while he tells you he’s a humble business man… don’t ask what for tho cause that’s a super family secret 🤭

but he's planning and scheming and charming his way into your life and he’s in it for the long run because eels are patient. it just sucks that jade is even more patient, like a saint if you would

^^accurate depiction of saint jade

^^and this is jade when he gets questioned for his wife’s uh oh 🤷🏻🤷🏻

maybe she drank too much at a party and fell over the side.

maybe there was a targeted hit meant for jade but they got the wrong one.

maybe a classic batman scenario but jade survived and is throughly traumatized (same with his kids, i mean look at them!!🧍🏻🧍🏻 they’re so torn up that it just breaks his heart😿)

but he’s making chance encounters rather… commonly. (he had reader stalked for a good few years as he was planning everything. just to make sure he likes them& they keep it interesting.)

just... some thoughts about dilf jade leech and his hell spawns hehe (when the trio visited your work they managed to leave your section alone... so it looks like you were in the eye of the hurricane)

im gonna read your other stuff about dilf jade now because AHHHH

Angry at my boss, so I decided to see if there was anything in my inbox to cheer me up. Woo hoo!

In reference to this

Cw: light Yan!, implied stalking, Jade's a freak but if you don't already know that then you aren't paying attention

I can only imagine that, after the party, since you interacted with so many kids and parents that night, they all kind of blurred together. And it's not until, after he visits your place of work, and you chat over text for a while, and you have a real date, then invites you back home for an after date drink, do you start to remember. And that's only because the twins are scamps and stayed up past their bedtimes, and they are staring at you with eyes you remember.

Obviously, you are gonna chalk it up to a coincidence. "Oh my god! You know so-and-so, right? I think I met you at a party a few years ago!" He laughs, and plays along, oh my god,.yeah what a really good coincidence.

Meanwhile, the twins share a look, because Dad has talked about you every day since Mom died, so they know he's lying. Hell, when you aren't here, they already call you mama/papa. But, they are their father's kids, so they are never going to say anything.

One date turns to two turns to three, turns to a year of dating. It's time to meet the family. You know Jade has a twin, but they've taken different paths in life.

So when Dilf Floyd Trudges up the driveway with his six adopted kids, four of whom are sprinting around the house and lawn and destroying Jade's home, two of whom are under Floyd's arms like suitcases, you're in for a culture shock.

When you first meet him, he seems incredibly grumpy. He's got salt and pepper stubble, the baggiest outfit, though you get the feeling it's designer, no matter how slouchy it is, his hair is slicked back, making the grey streaks look neat against his otherwise messy look.

He tosses the kids and yells at them to go play with their cousins, then he rudely shoves past you. Jade stops him with a hand on his shoulder that appears gentle, but if you had felt the full force of it, you'd have landed on your ass. He hissed at Floyd, through a smile, to greet his new fiance. There's a tense moment where they stare at each other, then Floyd storms over to you, and presses a ticklish kiss to your cheek, before muttering, "Welcome to the family," then storming to his room and locking himself in for the night.

The next day it's like he's a different person. He makes breakfast for you and excitedly asks you about yourself, wanting to know everything about his future sibling. Eventually he pours you a glass of what you know is Jade's most expensive wine, which he has been saving for a special occasion, and you finally get the courage to ask about the night before, and he laughs and says he was tired from the trip. Wrangling six kids on an airplane is exhausting, you know?

You decide to ask him about little Jade, and Floyd's stories of childhood charm you so much that you don't notice Jade's brooding presence.

Not that Floyd minds. Yeah, he got off to a rough start with you, but he gets why Jade likes you. And Jade only has two parentless kids, he has six. So his kids need you more than Jade's do, right?

Will the dad's eventually drag the kids into this fight? Absolutely. Those kids have Mafia parents, they have plenty of acting training. They will be pulling those heartstrings of yours 😊

[wutheringcaterpillar]

I was wondering if you could write something for Peaky Blinders where the reader is a mix of Tommy and Arthur, who grew up with the Shelby’s and ended up being their business partners and Tommy’s fiancé, only for him to ship you away for your safety after a business meeting gone wrong and you come back to find him married to Grace as he believed the reader had died while away due to no correspondence. Thank you so much if you can 💖

Warnings: Altered storyline, orphan!reader, sad ending

thank you for the request, apologies it took a moment to come out. Thank you for being patient, hope you enjoy lovie🥰

Growing up with the Shelby’s wasn’t for the weak, but since a young age they had taken you in as their own.

Ada taught you how to fight for your rights and never allow a man to take control of you, whilst Arthur was the one who always reminded you to keep fighting when things get tough, to not supress any anger or rage as he did.

Then there was Tommy, the voice of reason, the one that promised protection over you and put the most interest in your life.

Through the years you’d grown immensely close, a shy attraction forming but never having the courage to approach the matter until a small kiss was shared on a drunken snowy night at the pub. 

From there things began to escalate, Tommy going as far as proposing and the family being overjoyed. The profound bound you shared with one another was unbreakable. That was until a villainous person of character brought trouble and you were his main target.

Tommy wasn’t quite sure how but the man had figured out where you were 24/7. A car reappearing constantly was never found, a familiar face never near. When they’d attempt to break in while you were at the betting shop alone Tommy realized he couldn’t risk it anymore, couldn’t risk losing you. Eventually sending you off to stay in Boston and promising to return when the situation was handled.

As days turned into weeks, weeks turning into months there had been no contact made on your part, leaving Tommy to presume you were dead and they had found a way to you.

Wanting the reassurance, he sent Charlie out there to investigate. But when Charlie arrived at your secluded flat, the place was a mess. Clothes and papers scattered, half bowls of food on the counters and what looked like to be blood covering your sheets, so he assumed the worst, eventually confirming Tommy’s fear that you had passed and your body was nowhere to be found.

Now here you were entering through the corridors of the Arrow House after tracking breadcrumbs to figure out where your long lost love was living.

Heads turned to stare in disbelief and side conversations unfolding from your powerful presence.

What you weren’t ready for was to see Tommy standing there with a blonde woman with an expensive necklace wrapped around her neck, his hands firmly placed caringly on her arms.

“I need you. I need you alive Grace.” The scene unfolding before your very own eyes churned your stomach in disgust while your heart thumped rapidly from the anger and heartbreak in your chest.

“And what about me then Tommy?” You shouted loudly causing everyone’s heads to turn in curiosity.

Whipping his head around from the sound of that voice he once cherished that he never thought he’d hear again. Grace followed his eyes, brows furruowing in confusion.

“Tommy who is this?” 

“Who are you?” You quipped back without missing a beat, resentment and anger laced in your voice.  Tommy felt everyone’s eyes glued on him, but that didn’t change the murmur in his heart.

He felt like the universe had come to a stand still. How could this be? It couldn’t, no. He had confirmation you were dead but yet here you were standing right before his very own eyes.

When Grace tried to approach, Tommy released his arm causing her to come to a hault.

“Why don’t we go to my office. Somewhere more private without lingering eyes and ears, eh?” Arthur and Ada stayed near their corner, watching the scandalous scene of events, nearly choking on their drinks when your heels clicked forward, hand striking the middle Shelby across his face vigorously before storming off in anger.

Ada set her glass down knowing she’d need to intervene with Grace, surely Tommy would want to talk to you alone.

Waving his hand, the music restarted, fellow bussiness partners and coneseuirs going back to their socializing as if nothing has happened.

Closing the office doors behind him, Tommy placed his hands in the pockets of his pants to hide his trembling hands, watching you rummage around his desk drawer for a cigarette as his crystal eyes remained calm and collected.

“Y/N. I thought you were dead. I didn’t-“ You slammed the door shut, lighting the cigarette allowing the nicotine to burn your lungs euphorically while flipping you hair, unphased by your ex fiance.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Tell me, did you even look for me? Or were you already far past me when you sent me away. Was that it? Was it all for her?” The crackling in your strained voice and the water building at the brink of your heartbroken eye lids shattered Tommy inside, lips parting agape while he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

There was a knock at the door but neither you or Tommy answered, gazes still locked in a windwhirl of scattered emotions, stuck laying in the bed of deceit and heartache that he caused.

When the knocking insisted on, he hadn’t known it was Grace on the other side when he shouted, “For christ’s sake we are busy! Fuck off!” She was taken aback by his tone, scoffing and twisting at the door handle trying to jiggle open the locked knob.

Scoffing at the tone of her high pitched, annoying voice yelling to be allowed in caused your blood to boil.

Picking up the glass bottle of liqour, you threw it with strong velocity and a hateful intent, just barely missing Tommy’s head as the object shattered against the door behind him.

“Jesus christ! Fucking calm down eh? I didn’t fucking know Y/N-I-“ She still didn’t stop.

“Fuck off you fiance stealing tramp!” Her efforts diminished, face turning pale when she heard what you said. So that’s who you were.

“Now with the whore gone, give me a fucking answer that I am damn well entitled to! Did. You. Look. For. Me.” He knew you were right, he should have looked, should have seen for himself but he didn’t want to bare seeing your lifeless body.

His fingers rubbed together at his side, head dropping down in guilt as his eyes wandered, mind pondering why the fuck he just assumed. There were plenty of moments where his men gave him false information, wrong information. 

“You never wrote back Y/N. I tried for months and sent Charlie to look for you. He told me there was blood in your bed and looked like no one had been there in weeks. I fucking thought you were dead. A day didn’t go by where I didn’t blame myself, I should have held you closer, should’ve never sent you away.” You scoffed in disbelief, crossing the room and pointed a finger accusing at him, pushing his chest in the process and he was more than willing to take the hits.

“If you cared enough you would have shown up for yourself you fucking bastard! Yes they fucking found me but I got out, the blood was from me killing those sick bastards. I disposed of their bodies, by myself might I add while you sat here just fucking the whore from Ireland not giving a shit about me! Do you know how much I struggled? I had no fucking money, none of you sent help for me or even tried but I’m more disappointed and angered with you! My fucking supposedly dearly beloved soon to be husband, I can’t believe I-“ His lips smashed against yours, silencing your words as his hands cupped your cheeks.

The taste of his whiskey, partially chapped, alluring lips caused your mind to flood with memories playing out like a movie scene in your head but you were stronger than this.

Pushing him away you slapped him once more, eyes entranced in one anothers in a moment of silence. Clasping his jaw, he shook it off like it was nothing. This wasn’t going to work this time, he couldn’t just seduce you and everything would be one happy fucking rainbow.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You have no right! I’m not some pawn in this twisted story Thomas.” 

He hated how his mind worked, he knew it was fucked up but was hoping his lips on yours would draw you back in, make you realize he was never once over you. It was his way of saying sorry.

“Y/N I will leave her, anything you’d like. I just want you. I need you Y/N.” You laughed in disbelief of the irony and disbelief of his choice of words and began to pace the room, your heart no longer aching but void of any feeling.

“Really? Isn’t that what you just said to her when I walked in the room? I won’t be the next chapter of another great Thomas Shelby redemption arc. I can’t. I refuse.” Tommy didn’t cry often but this time he couldn’t stop the singular tear from streaming down his cheek.

The air was heavy, the silence heavier, nothing but the clock ticking in the background filling your eardrums while your aching hearts split in half. 

You couldn’t be here anymore, didn’t want to be. How were you to love a man that threw you away so effortlessly. You knew him well enough to know he was just telling you what he believed you wanted to hear. Rule number one, don’t give your heart away to someone undeserving. He had taught you at a young age that true love was a fragile, difficult thing to come across, you just didn’t think he’d be the one to throw your away.

Making your exit, you wiped away the tears, refusing to give the public the satisfaction of knowing that Thomas Shelby had broken your heart as everyone said he would long ago.

He watched as you left him alone in the room with nothing but his thoughts, cursing himself for the man that he was as he watched the love of his life exit through the door for the final time.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Dancing in the Dark

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 4)

—

Time written- 5:33 a.m

Titans! Jason Todd/fem!reader fluff/smut

(Tags: Kissing, sort of fingering/dry humping🔞✌️)

—

Jason had woken up with a dead phone around ten in the morning: a small price to pay for talking with his most favorite girl.

A childish giddiness riddled his mind as he put his phone to charge, anxious to call you or see your name pop up with your usual morning text.

However, to his surprise, he was met with a blank screen. No call, no text. For a solid five minutes, he stared up with exhausted eyes at his call history, seeing your name above how long the call lasted.

Three hours, thirty-three minutes, and thirty-five seconds.

A dreadful sinking began in his stomach, a tortuously hot guilt deep in his core. Did he go too far? Did he push you away? This was too soon - No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, but he pushed it. He just had to push it. Now you’re never gonna talk to him again, are you?

He carried this guilt throughout the dreadfully slow hours of the day. A heavy stir of anxiousness weighed down on his shoulders the longer he went without a call or text from you. He wanted to reach out so damn bad, wanting to call to see if you were okay, then apologize about a hundred thousand times.

He loved talking with you, feeling it as an escape from his troubles of being himself; an outcast in his own supposed home.

He spent a good hour of avoiding his thoughts and emotions by training by himself, beating against his targets and training mannequins until his protected knuckles nearly bruised.

He wasn’t supposed to like you, but you reached out first, saving him an endless amount of self hatred and doubt on his behalf, fueling it up with precarious amounts of happiness.

Now he feels like he made things a whole lot worse by ruining this one special, quite unique friendship he had, pushing past boundaries that weren’t meant to be crossed.

Unless, that’s what you wanted to happen, too.

He had to admit, he was a hypocrite for accusing you of getting off on him last night. He couldn’t help that he found the computer geek attractive when you both first met. Regardless of your indifference towards each other at the time.

He’s spent plenty of late nights and long showers on days he was feeling untroubled enough to think of you, even more so than he was willing to ever admit after getting closer to you.

Time seemed to make his worries grow even worse, especially after a hot shower from his rigorous session. He peeks over at his phone, shoulders nearly coming to a slump at his lack of notifications from you.

A knock comes at his door, breaking the tense chain. Soft taps from none other than your delicate hands.

You stood on the other side after he opens it, looking ever so lovely with an embarrassed glow on your cheeks.

All tension seemed to slip off his shoulders upon seeing you, making a smile grow on Jason’s face. All his worries about your well being, fear of avoidance, and being ghosted dissipated like an ice cube dropped into hot water.

“Hey mama,” he softly greets, attempting to keep his composure.

“Hey.” Your soft tone riddled with enough nervousness and hesitation makes Jason’s guilt slowly return, bubbling dangerously at the bottom of his stomach.

“You busy?” You ask, making him quickly shake his head before further opening his door, silently inviting you into his semi-tidy room.

A pregnant silence surrounded the both of you as you remained standing where you were, glancing around as if to intentionally avoid looking him in the eye.

Jason exhales after a long moment, knowing he needed to break this ice the longer he stared at you. He started it, he had to own up to it.

“Hey, about last night—“

“Yeah,” you softly say to yourself. “Last night.”

“Right,” he nods, swallowing slowly as he maintains his distance, brushing his sweaty hands over his pockets. “Look … I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to go that far. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

You stare up at him with doe eyes, a faint aura of surprise coursing through your mind. Jason immediately owned up to his mistake, even if it didn’t exactly feel like one, though it was to be debated. He was taking ownership of it, something you’ve heard the others complain that he didn’t do.

Again, yet another thing the Titans got wrong about Jason Todd.

“I have a question, actually.” You gather the strength to speak up, to Jason’s surprise. Weren’t you going to… walk out on him? Yell at him? He’d stand still so you could hit him with something solid.

Maybe you were, after you understood more of the situation first.

“Sure, what?”

“So, what… what exactly brought it on?”

A short smile involuntarily creeps up on Jason’s face, followed by a measly shrug. He licks his lips before glancing towards the ground, pondering that very thought for a good moment or two.

“I don’t know what to say about it.” Jason goes on to say, smiling a little more towards the ground. “You’re funny, an’ smart. Hella hot, too.”

He goes quiet again, shrugging once more before raising his head. “You’ve put up with me. More than anyone else here bothers to do. So… yeah.”

It just happened. He wanted to finish his sentence by saying, but you understood. Your cheeks blooming from the sentimental compliments.

“So, those roses,” you nervously proceed. “Those weren’t just ‘thank you roses’, were they?”

Jason amusingly scoffs when you mention the flowers, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No. No, they weren’t.”

Again, Jason still wonders if he went too fast. Part of him wanted to take it all back, break the clock to turn back the arms. It was impossible now, and judging from the looks of you here, especially with your choice of meeting him in his room, he had somewhat good reason to believe that you were somewhat okay with it.

“We can still be friends,” Jason suggests, taking a casual step closer. “Maybe.. a lot closer than the usual stereotype.”

“Closer?” You question, watching him do so.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I don’t see a problem with it. As long as you don’t either.”

It would be very, very foolish of you to believe you could avoid Jason by any means after what happened between you both.

Your cheeks flushed from the night before; all the words he said, the things you’ve done in his awareness over the phone. It was incredible on a hardcore crushing girl’s stand point, but absolutely horrible on your friendship record.

You were both friends, supposed to be friends. The reminder of your bond made your hands tremble, but the recollection of what occurred made your core flush with warmth.

Jason slightly clears his throat before lightly scratching the side of his temple, taking his chance to fill the silence with some desperately required humor. “Y’know, I assumed you’d have had me on my ass right about now.”

“I mean, I totally would’ve,” you sarcastically boast, crossing your arms. “Don’t get me wrong. I just wanted to put all these pieces together first, see if what had happened… if it meant something.”

“It won’t mean anything if you don’t see it like that.” He pitches, his gaze unable to tear away from your rosy cheeks.

God, you’re so pretty. So cute, and quite brave to put yourself in this position.

“Did it mean something to you, mama?” Jason questions before cautiously stepping past your personal bubble, slimming the distance between you both. “You can tell me, I won’t get mad.”

Apprehension steals your nerves, making your throat run dry. You couldn’t help but crave the Jason you talked to over the phone, murmuring such filthy words into your ear through a screen. Things you’ve never considered him saying before, wanting him just as much as you wanted your friend.

Again, another border presented itself to you. This time, with a door behind held open in the center, beckoning you to walk through it.

You’re cute when you’re figuring out what to say. Jason’s smile subtly grew, his eyes scanning every adorable feature of your face.

“It meant a lot,” you finally admit, making him nod slowly after some thought.

“Good,” Jason murmurs, his nose merely inches away from yours, eyes repeatedly flickering down towards your lips with a slow, attractive desire.

His hands ever so carefully caress your sides, giving enough room and chance to slap them away if you needed to. You didn’t want to.

“That’s good, babe.”

His lips slowly settle along yours before you know it, melding against your own with a patient pause, silently pleading for you to accept. You gladly did so, remembering your use of hands as you guide them up to cradle his shoulders.

- -

You both still continued on with this friendship, even if that label was practically meaningless now, quickly washing away with water.

The late night calls and endlessly amusing texts continued, now with the addition of some particularly interesting additions. Full on flirts, pet names, nothing past what you weren’t comfortable with.

Jason kissed you plenty of more times since then, all of which were in precariously different scenarios, randomly falling along the scale of surprise.

During your chances of downtime in private during television commercials, Jason built a habit of catching you off guard via tickling your vulnerable spots, playing into your laughing spell before leaning close, sealing your giggles with a short kiss.

You had to admit to yourself, you often indulged in playing into his interests just for the sole fact of adoring his attention. Which resulted in his boldness shining through in ways you weren’t expecting.

Or, when he simply felt like it.

Most of the time, he just felt like it.

Riskier moments involved him noticing you ‘absentmindedly’ applying lip oil after a few occasional sips of water during your work on the Batcomputer.

You’d catch his gaze from the corner of your eye before giving him an innocent smile, lips glistening with a rosy tint before focusing back towards the screen.

During your work, he’d break your concentration by squeezing along your shoulders. Warm lips graze along your ear, encouraging you to take a break and go on a walk with him, to clear both your heads.

“Jason - Oh my god.” A breathless giggle leaves your lips as your back meets a chilly surface, combating his warm upper torso pressed against your front. A quiet, gloomy, secluded corner in the tower, just shy out of any camera range.

What can he say? He liked the risk, the excitement of sneaking off to steal a few kisses from his favorite girl. Regardless of what you were supposed to be doing.

“Jay, I mean it,” you exhale, your fingers grasping along the back of his hoodie while his lips tease along your soft neck, inhaling your sweet perfume.

“Dick needs me to—“

“Fuck Dick,” he mutters out with venom in his tone, the tightening clutch of his hands on your hips giving a hard squeeze. “Don’t care ‘bout what he wants. You’re mine right now.”

You’ve never seen him so giddy with attraction before. His smiles growing broader, a pleasant flush of color on the apples of his high cheeks. All he had on his mind was you, his pleasant little distraction from his dreadful hours of therapy every week.

Sometimes, that wouldn’t always be the case.

- -

“Babe.” His quivering exhale over the phone worried you to the very bone one night as you tidied up your apartment, getting a semi-unexpected call from Jason in the midst of a late storm.

He wouldn’t say what was going on, too distressed to comprehend anything over the phone, hiding his painfully obvious sobs on his end. Your aching heart couldn’t handle it, encouraging him to come to your apartment, insisting on staying up to meet him at the front door.

After twenty-five minutes, Jason could barely get a hold on hitting his third knock on the door before it pulled out of reach, your warm arms instantly enveloping his rain soaked body at your doorstep.

He clung to you instantly, sniffling nose breathing in the scent of clean, cozy vanilla and fresh laundry. The scents he associated with comfort, with safety.

“I just needed to get away from it all,” his muffled whimper catches along your shoulder, his voice broken and defeated in a way you rarely hear him.

It takes a while for Jason to calm down, but for him, you’d give him all the time he needed. The two of you sit on the ground, backs settled against the couch with mugs of hot drinks in hand, a comfortable silence bathing both your minds as the rain relentlessly batters along your windows.

Bruce, Dick, Hank, the rest of the Titans. His past even, coming back to haunt him in the worst ways. The reasons varied, but he didn’t voice them. You didn’t need him to voice them, you only needed to understand.

His phone rings, slicing through his settling anxieties until he peeked at the caller ID. He hands you his phone, his gaze pleading with you to answer Gar’s concerned phone call, in which you gladly did so. You soothe both your friend’s worries, telling him that Jason was alright, which was the biggest concern on Gar’s mind.

“I don’t feel comfortable going back,” Jason admits after you hang up, his eyes too focused on the liquid in his coffee cup. “Not now. Not for a while, I think.”

You express your agreement by settling your hand along the back of his palm, giving a gentle squeeze.

“That’s okay,” you reply, watching his gaze linger over towards your hand. “It’s gonna be okay, Jason. You don’t have to go back, not right now.”

He stares on quietly, his head nodding in thanks while pondering over various ideas. Your head turns over your shoulder to peer at the couch. No, not the couch. Not for him.

“Y’know, My bed has two pillows.” You proceed to say, attempting to wind up some awful humor to get the tiniest response of amusement out of him.

Jason glanced at you with a puzzled expression, nearly making you stumble on your words.

“Two.” He repeats, still visibly riddled with confusion.

“Well, more like five,” you shrug after quickly sipping some of your tea, trying to save yourself from further embarrassment. “But one of them just might have your name on it.”

His lips slightly curls into a tired smile, accepting your offer within that very moment.

- -

It made the most logical sense to assume that after a hot shower, Jason didn’t intend to go straight to sleep with you in your bed.

He found you in mid process pulling back the blankets and adjusting pillows, bent over along hands and knees over your bed.

You failed to register Jason’s presence behind you after you slip off, turning around with a sudden gasp from the scare.

He smirks, quietly watching your eyes immediately gaze along his shirtless figure, down to where he had slid on some sweatpants.

There it was; those tiny embers of arousal in your eyes that formed when you returned his gaze. A flame whirring to life in your innocent little head, tainted with memories of words he’s told you in confidence, leaving you aching for more.

His towel dried hair clung to beads of water like gemstones, residual droplets rippling down his toned arms and chest.

The front of your sleep shirt grew damp with water when Jason clutches you close by your hips, his lips meeting yours without a second longer of wait.

The height difference, coupled with his physique looming over when he kissed you had you leaning back, your hands slowly bracing against the mattress before you suffer a clumsy fall.

Jason’s forearms braced along the spaces beside your head at first, shadowing over your body like a broad, protective layer once you laid down. A hand grasps along your hip, tips of his fingers lightly trailing along the seam of your shorts before grasping your thigh, raising it up along his side.

“Don’t worry,” he rasps along your ear, picking up on the nervous shudder in your breathing. “I’ll be easy. Just been dyin’ to taste you.”

Your hand quickly grasps hold of his, painfully tense fingers wanting to pry them away from your hip. He paused, his head looming over yours with a noticeably concerned expression.

Feeling guilty, you prepare to say it’s accidental, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Jason, I—“ You open your mouth to testify, but he gently shushes you.

“No - shit. It’s my bad,” he exhales. “You don’t feel ready. That’s okay, we don’t gotta do anything.”

Damn him for tainting your mind with such erotic promises all before. Your arousal proceeded to get the better of you, despite his consideration on your behalf.

“Is their anything we can do?” Your pleading eyes made him groan a curse out from under his breath. Damn him for his waning control.

He kisses you again, trying really hard to hide his growing smile. Right, you’re his little eager girl, mentally ruined by his never subtle advances.

“We can try something, if you up to it.” He proposes, gazing down on you with a warm, hungry glimmer in his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Something that doesn’t require taking clothes off, but you gotta trust me.”

Chaste kisses lead towards a passionately drawn out make out, bodies shifting in between the blankets. An arm settles around your torso, slow fingers cupping and squeezing your breasts through your shirt.

Your breathing settles from soothing words whispered against your ear, but nothing could settle your raging heart from the fingers that slipped underneath your shorts, teasing along your damp underwear before easing them aside.

Warm slick quickly coats his fingers, a pleased little hum leaving Jason’s throat shortly after.

“Almost feel a little sorry for you. Havin’ to use a toy to get yourself off, babe.” He mumbled between your little whimpers.

His middle finger lightly brushes over your swollen clit, making you wince. Smirking, he repeats the action a few more times, watching your hips slightly tense and jolt.

It was nothing like when you touched yourself, barely managing to stroke along your own clit for a few seconds before the sensitivity grew too much. Jason was relentless, leaving you completely at his mercy to touch you how he pleased.

His fingers pry your smooth, velvety lips open before dipping a finger inside, groaning lustfully against your neck as your virgin walls eagerly squeeze around his digit.

All you could do as his victim was whimper and take it, too embarrassed to beg for more, too shy to reach behind and take him in hand, urging him to fill you.

Jason's restraint on his own vocals grows thinner by the minute, his ragged groans vibrating along your skin as he listens to your eager little virgin hole cry out for something more, begging to be fucked and stretched to the limit. An unabashed excitement at seeing you fall apart from his doing alone was the perfect distraction, muddling his frustrations into dying whispers.

Seeing you as you are, sprawled along Jason's spread legs, hitching pitiful whimpers as he fucks a second finger into your sopping cunt had him seething with arousal. His cock painfully begging to be free from his sweats.

“I bet your tiny hands can’t reach like mine can, but I know my cock will,” he mumbled before kissing you. His thumb draws relentless circles on your little nub while fantasizing about what he’d do to your pussy.

You writhe in his lap, moaning freely against his lips as his fingers buck further into you. Your inconsistent grinding of your ass forced some much needed friction on his cock, angrily throbbing in his sweats.

“Y’think this little pussy is ready to take me yet?” he coos at you, as though his fingers aren’t digging into your cunt and rubbing along your heated walls, crooking them just right as his palm relentlessly stimulates your nub.

“D-Don’t say that,” you pitifully whine, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm.

“Shhh, just prepping you, babe. That’s all we’re doin’ tonight.”

Your hips twitching, your head pressing back against his shoulder.

Jason only chuckled at those pretty, teary lashes flutter when he thrusts his fingers faster, grunting along with your choked moan when your hips buck once more.

“Jason, fuck- oh my God. Please don’t stop.”

He felt himself aching during his slurred words, but he set himself aside. Right now, his main priority was his sweet little Princess getting exactly what she deserves.

“I’m not stoppin’, mama. Y’can count on that.”

[brunchable]

The Stakeout: Day 3 || Steve Rogers x Agent!FReader.

Day One | Two | Four Words: 4.2K Themes/Warnings: Unspoken feelings towards each other. Growing tension. Sexual Attraction. Eventual Smut. Being stuck with each other. Summary: You came too close from being compromised by the enemy target and the first idea you could think of was to K-I-S-S Steve. A/N: Ayo . . . We getting close lmfao.

Tags: @lafrone @moviegurl2002 @haruvalentine4321 @blankmoniker

You slept really well. Last night's sleep was different from the cold, restless nights you’ve been enduring—it’s a comforting warmth, the kind that makes you want to stay curled up in bed for just a little longer.

Your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to realize that you’re still cuddling against Steve. At some point during the night, you must have shifted closer, because your head is now resting on his chest, your arm draped across his stomach. His arm is around you, holding you close, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Hm, this is nice.

For a few heartbeats, you just lie there, your mind still groggy from sleep, trying to process the situation. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. It’s nice. Comforting. But as the haze of sleep begins to lift, the realization of just how close you are—how tangled up you’ve become—hits you like a bucket of cold water.

Your eyes snap open fully, and you quickly lift your head, your heart skipping a beat as you realize just how intimately you’re pressed against him. Steve’s eyes flutter open at the sudden movement, for a split second, the two of you just stare at each other, wide-eyed and too stunned to move.

Then, in an unspoken agreement, you both scramble to disentangle yourselves, practically leaping out of bed in your haste to put some distance between you.

“Uh, morning,” Steve mumbles, his voice hoarse from sleep, running a hand through his cow-licked hair. He’s clearly flustered, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink that you’ve never seen before.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice a little too high-pitched as you quickly busy yourself with anything that will distract you from the awkwardness of the situation. 

You smooth down your pajamas, tugging at the hem of your tank, anything to avoid looking at him. The silence that follows is deafening. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him moving around the small apartment, his movements a little too purposeful, as if he’s trying just as hard as you are to pretend that nothing unusual happened. He grabs his coffee mug, but his hands are a bit too shaky, and he nearly spills it as he pours himself a cup.

You decide to follow his lead, grabbing your own mug and pouring yourself some coffee. The routine of it, the familiar motions, help to steady your nerves, but you can still feel the aftershocks of that moment in bed, the way your heart refuses to calm down.

“So,” Steve begins awkwardly, clearing his throat as he finally glances in your direction, though he quickly looks away. “We should probably check in with Fury?” 

You latch onto the change in subject with relief, eager to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that you woke up in his arms. 

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “He probably needs to know the report for yesterday.”

Steve nods, still avoiding your gaze as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, that’s… that’s what I was thinking too.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence where you both just stand there, holding your mugs like they’re shields against the morning’s awkwardness.

“So, um…” You gesture vaguely with your mug, trying to find something to say that isn’t related to the fact that you woke up in his arms. “I’ll… get dressed?”

“Right, yeah,” Steve says quickly, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Good idea. I’ll, uh… I’ll do that too. I mean, not with you. Separately. I’ll get dressed separately. In another room. You know what, I'll just turn around.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he sounds. “Steve—”

But he’s already turning his back to you, his posture stiff with awkwardness. “No, no, I’ll just… I’ll give you some privacy.”

You roll your eyes playfully as you reach for your clothes. “You’re a real gentleman, Rogers. Not even gonna sneak a peek?”

Steve nearly chokes on his coffee, his face turning a deeper shade of pink. “I—uh—no! Of course not!”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you. You can turn back around once I’m dressed.” You grin, enjoying how easy it is to fluster him.

“Right, yeah. I’ll just… stare at the wall,” he mutters, clearly trying to regain his composure.

As you change into your clothes, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at the absurdity of the situation. Here you are, two highly trained professionals, acting like awkward teenagers. It’s almost endearing.

Finally, you finish getting dressed and clear your throat. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

Steve turns back around, looking relieved that the ordeal is over. “Great. I’ll, uh… get ready too.”

You nod, giving him a little more space as he quickly grabs his clothes and starts to change. This time, you’re the one turning away, focusing intently on your coffee as you try not to think about how nice it would be to wake up like that every day.

“So,” Steve says again as he pulls on his shirt, “about checking in with Fury…”

“Yeah, we’ll do that after we… you know, finish getting ready,” you reply, trying to sound casual.

“Right,” he agrees, but then hesitates. “And, uh… about this morning… I just want to say…”

You brace yourself, expecting another round of awkward apologies, but instead, he surprises you.

“It was nice,” he says softly, his voice sincere. “Waking up like that. I mean, not that I—well, you know what I mean.”

You’re caught off guard by his honesty, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. But then you smile, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the coffee.

“Yeah, it was,” you mumble, your tone softening. “It was… nice.”

× × × ×

After a quick meal, you found yourselves back at your posts, watching the building across the street with the same careful attention you’d maintained the past few days. The day was quiet, the hours dragging by with little to show for it, and you were starting to think that today would be just as uneventful as the days before.

But then, just after lunch, something changed.You spotted movement in one of the windows of the building you were surveilling. It was subtle, just a shadow passing by, but it was enough to put you both on high alert.

“Did you see that?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer to Steve as you strained to get a better look.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice low, tense. “Something's about to happen.”

The two of you watched in silence as the door of the building opened, and a man stepped out. He looked around suspiciously, clearly on edge, and you felt your heart rate pick up. This could be it—the moment you’d been waiting for.

But as the man lingered in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the street, you realized something: he was waiting for something—or someone. You exchanged a quick glance with Steve, your stomach twisting with unease. If he saw you, if he realized you were watching, the entire mission could be compromised.

“We need to stay low,” Steve muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “If he sees us—”

But it was too late. As if sensing your presence, the man’s eyes suddenly snapped to the window where you and Steve were hiding. His gaze zeroed in on you, his expression darkening with suspicion. Your heart stopped, your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him, knowing that you had only seconds to act.

“Kiss me.” You blurted out.

“What?” Steve almost snapped his neck turning his attention towards you.

Panic surged through you, and without thinking, you reached out, grabbing Steve’s shirt and pulling him close. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t resist. You had to do something—anything—to divert the man’s attention before he realized what you were really doing.

Acting purely on instinct, you tugged Steve down toward you, pressing your lips to his in a sudden, desperate kiss.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as your lips met his. The tension, the panic, everything melted away, leaving only the heat of the kiss, the way Steve’s body pressed against yours, the way his hand instinctively cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer.

The kiss was meant to be a cover, a way to make the man think you were just a couple stealing a private moment. But it quickly escalated to something deeper.

Steve’s initial shock gave way to a response that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that took your breath away, his other arm slipping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, why you were doing this. All you could think about was the way Steve was kissing you, the way he was holding you, like he never wanted to let go.

Reality crashed back in. You forced yourself to pull back, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as you broke the kiss. Steve’s eyes were dark, intense, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at you.

But there was no time to dwell on it. You quickly glanced over Steve’s shoulder, your heart pounding as you checked to see if the man was still watching.

He was.

The man’s eyes were locked on the two of you, his expression still suspicious, but now there was something else in his gaze—something calculating. You could see him weighing his options, trying to decide if what he saw was genuine or a ruse.

“We have to sell it,” you whispered urgently, your voice trembling slightly.

Steve’s eyes flicked to the window, understanding immediately. Without hesitation, his hand buried itself in your hair and tilted your head back, taking your lips, his tongue slid silkily within the warmth of yours. 

Your hands find themselves on the back of his neck, and a moan vibrates low in your throat as his tongue invades your mouth, his taste unfamiliar and darkly seductive at the same time. This kiss was slower, more deliberate, really trying to convince the man watching that this was real—that you were just a couple, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else.

You tried not to get in too deep, but it was nearly impossible when Steve was kissing you like this. He groans, his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. A soft gasp escaped you and Steve used the opportunity to deepen his kiss. You feel the growing tension in his powerful body. His breathing speeds up, and his kiss turns hard, devouring, making your body throb in response. Your hips began to grind on his still covered cock, instinctively, while pressing himself against you, gripping your hip.

You risked another glance out of the corner of your eye. You tried to turn your head, but Steve claimed your mouth again. You couldn’t prevent the low moan of pleasure that escaped you as he continued to escalate. Your body begins to pulse in anticipation, your nipples tightening under the fabric of your shirt. 

The man was still there, but his suspicion seemed to be wavering. He hesitated, his gaze narrowing as he watched you both, but then he shook his head slightly, as if dismissing the idea that you were anything other than what you appeared to be. He turned and walked away, disappearing back into the building.

× × × × 

STEVE’S POV

Shit.

Her touch is strangely innocent and uncertain. I can taste her, feel her, and the urge to fuck her is so strong I shudder with it. I know I should stop, push her away, but I can’t. Her kiss is the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt. When I think I can’t bear much more, her hot little mouth moves to my jaw and then trails down my neck, kissing and nibbling with the same torturous gentleness. Her hands release my face and slide down my body, her fingers closing around the bottom edge of my shirt.

She begins to lift my shirt, and I groan as her knuckles brush against my naked sides, her touch leaving my skin burning in its wake. 

“Y/N . . .” I suck in my breath as she scoots down and kneels between my spread legs, her face at the level of my navel. “Y/N, you need to stop teasing me.” 

She ignores my directive, keeping my shirt bunched up. 

“Who’s teasing?” she whispers, looking up at me. And before I can respond, she leans in and places a warm, damp kiss on my stomach. 

Fuck. 

My entire body jerks, my balls tightening on a savage surge of lust. The sight of her kneeling there pushes my buttons in all the wrong ways, calling to my darkest desires. My hands knot into fists, and I take short, deep breaths, reminding myself that we're working right now. We need to be on high alert.

Except she’s licking my stomach now. Fucking licking it. Tracing each muscle indentation with her tongue, like she’s trying to imprint it on her memory. 

“Y/N.” My voice is hoarse. “That’s enough. He's gone.” 

She pulls back, looking up at me through those long, thick lashes of hers, “Are you sure?” she murmurs, still not letting go of my shirt. “Because I think I want more.” 

And leaning in again, she scrapes her teeth over my lower abs, then sucks on the spot, her mouth hot and wet on my bare skin. Skin that’s right next to the throbbing cock still confined in my pants. 

I see Y/N smile deepen as her eyes flick to the bulge in my jeans. The little witch knows exactly what she’s doing to me, what kind of effect she’s having on my body.

Fucking hell.

“Y/N . . .” I can barely form the words, my fingers digging into the window sill in an effort not to grab her. She release my shirt and fiddles with my belt buckle instead—

Bee-Beep. Bee-Beep

The beeping of the satellite phone was like a force that drove me back to reality, shattering the charged atmosphere that had wrapped around us. My mind was still clouded with the intense desire Y/N had stirred in me, but I forced myself to focus, to shove it all aside. I nearly tripped over my own feet as I scrambled for the phone, my heart hammering in my chest.

I clicked the button, bringing the phone to my ear, my breath still coming too fast. “Hello… Fury, yes,” I managed, my voice rough with the remnants of lust that hadn’t fully faded. 

As I spoke, I shot a glance at Y/N, who had moved to lean against the window, her arms crossed and her gaze avoiding mine. The tension between us was still thick, lingering in the air, but it was cut by the sharp edge of Fury’s voice on the other end of the line.

Fury didn’t waste any time. “Rogers, we’ve got a situation. A high-priority operative is heading your way. I’m sending you the details now. Be prepared to change your plans at a moment’s notice.”

Fury’s tone was sharp, no room for error. “And Rogers… don’t let your guard down. This guy is dangerous. Expect the unexpected.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, the line going dead a second later. I lowered the phone, my mind racing to process everything at once. The surge of desire, the need for control, the impending threat—everything was clashing inside me. I turned back to Y/N, who was still watching me, with an unreadable expression.

× × × ×

Your POV

Steve hastily ran towards the phone, almost tripping over his feet as he tried to reach for it just in time. He clicks the button and picks up, “Hello. . . Fury, yes.” Steve gives you a stern glance as you stood up and leaned on the window with your arms now crossed

“Yes, sir.” Steve replied to the phone firmly before hanging up the phone. Steve sighed and tossed the phone on the table. 

The silence that followed was painful, punctuated only by the sound of Steve’s pacing as he moved back and forth across the small room. The shift in his demeanor was jarring—gone was the man who had been just moments away from losing control with you, replaced by the disciplined soldier, all focus and intense. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of you, extinguishing the heat of the moment.

Your arms crossed tighter over your chest as you leaned against the window, your mind racing with regret and confusion. What the hell was I thinking? The question echoed in your mind, over and over again, with no clear answer. 

The desire that had driven you to push him that far, to test the boundaries of your partnership, now seemed reckless, foolish even. You could barely stand to look at Steve, not with the way he was pacing, his mind clearly focused on the mission and nothing else.

He stopped suddenly, his hand still on his hip, and let out a long sigh. He turned to you, the sternness was still there, and you braced yourself for whatever he was going to say.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low but firm, “we need to talk about what just happened.”

You bit your lip, not sure if you were ready for this conversation, but knowing you couldn’t avoid it. 

“I know,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. “I… I’m sorry, Steve. That was out of line. I don’t know what came over me.”

Steve shook his head, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t apologize. I’m just as responsible for what happened. But I need to be clear about something—this mission, our focus, it can’t be compromised. Not by anything, even… this.”

“I know. You’re right. I lost sight of that for a moment, but it won’t happen again.” You nodded, your throat tight as you struggled to find the right words. 

He studied you for a long moment, his expression softening just slightly, as if he could see the turmoil you were feeling. “We’re both under a lot of pressure, and things like this… they happen. We can’t afford any distractions alright?”

“I understand,” you said, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ll stay focused. I won’t let this interfere with the mission.”

He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Once this is over, we’ll figure out what to do about… us. But for now, we have to push it aside.”

“Okay,” you agreed, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. “We’ll deal with it later.”

He gave you a small, tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right. Now, let’s get back to work.”

The room fell into silence again, but this time it was different. The weight of what had happened, and what had almost happened, lingered in the air between you. 

As Steve turned back to the table, gathering his gear, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. You wanted to reach out, to say something, anything that might ease the tension between you, but the words wouldn’t come.

So instead, you followed his lead, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. The mission was all that mattered now. Everything else would have to wait. But deep down, you knew that once this was all over, there would be no going back to the way things were. The line had been crossed, and nothing would ever be the same.

× × × ×

The night dragged on, the silence between you and Steve almost as heavy as the darkness that filled the room. After Fury’s call, you both took up positions by the window, watching the building next door with unwavering focus. But as the hours ticked by with no sign of movement, the tension began to ease, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

It was now 3 a.m., and nothing had happened. Not even the slightest flicker of light or shadow from the target’s location. The adrenaline that had kept you alert earlier in the night had long since faded, leaving you fighting to keep your eyes open. You shifted slightly, trying to push away the fatigue that was pulling you under, but it was no use. You tried to stay alert, tried to keep your eyes open and your focus on the mission, but your body had other plans. You found yourself nodding off, your head dipping lower each time, only to snap back up as you jolted awake, determined not to let sleep overtake you.

But the battle was futile. Each time your eyes closed, they stayed shut a little longer. The room around you blurred into shadows, and before you knew it, your head rested against the back of the chair, and you were drifting off completely.

STEVE'S POV

I watched as Y/N finally gave in to sleep, her head resting against the back of the chair, her breathing becoming slow and even. She’d fought so hard to stay awake, to keep watch alongside me, but it was clear she couldn’t hold out any longer. The day had taken its toll on both of us, but I couldn’t help feeling a surge of protectiveness as I watched her sleep.

I knew she couldn’t stay like this—curled up in an uncomfortable chair, vulnerable to the aches and stiffness that would come when she woke. She needed proper rest, especially with what might lie ahead. Quietly, I stood from my own chair, moving toward her with careful, measured steps.

As I reached her, I hesitated for just a moment, taking in the sight of her peaceful face. Then, gently, I slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her with ease. She stirred slightly as I cradled her against my chest, but she didn’t wake. The trust she had in me, even unconsciously, made something tighten in my chest, but I pushed the feeling aside. There would be time to sort through all of that later.

I reached the bed and slowly lowered her onto it, my movements gentle, careful not to wake her. As I laid her down, she instinctively curled into the blanket, her hand clutching the edge as she settled into the softness. But before I could step back, something held me there, something that made it impossible to look away.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring down at her. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, the usual tension and guardedness gone from her features. The way her lashes rested softly against her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips as she breathed, the delicate curve of her neck—it all captivated me in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

And then, without thinking, I reached out, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down my spine. My hand lingered, hovering just above her skin, as if part of me was afraid to break the spell of the moment.

God, she was beautiful. Not just in the way she looked, but in everything she was—strong, determined, fiercely loyal. She had this fire inside her that drew me in, made it impossible for me to stay away, even when I knew I should. And now, seeing her like this, so calm and serene, it hit me just how deeply I cared for her.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the emotions I’d been trying to suppress rising to the surface. The urge to lean down, to press a soft kiss to her forehead, to her lips, was almost overwhelming. But I held back, knowing that this wasn’t the time. It wasn’t fair to her, to us, to act on these feelings when so much was at stake.

But standing there, looking down at her, it was impossible not to imagine a different world—one where we weren’t in the middle of a mission, where the dangers weren’t so immediate, where we could be together without fear or hesitation. A world where I could tell her everything that was in my heart, where I could love her the way she deserved to be loved.

The intensity of those thoughts made my breath catch, and I had to force myself to step back, to break the connection. But before I did, I let my fingers trace lightly across her temple, down to her jaw, memorizing the feel of her skin beneath my touch.

“Y/N…” I whispered, so softly that the words barely escaped my lips. But the sound, the feeling, hung in the air between us, charged with all the things I couldn’t say out loud.

She stirred slightly in her sleep, a small sigh escaping her lips, and I froze, watching her settle back into peaceful slumber. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection.

Finally, I forced myself to turn away, every step back to the window feeling heavier than the last. I took my seat, resuming my watch, but my mind was far from clear. The image of her sleeping face, the way she looked so content and beautiful, was burned into my mind.

I was in love with her—completely, irrevocably—and there was no going back from that.

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #14: The Valentines Day Debacle

“debacle • \dee-BAH-kul\ • noun.

1 : a tumultuous breakup of ice in a river 

2 : a violent disruption (as of an army) : rout

3 a : a great disaster b : a complete failure : fiasco.”

~ It was Valentine’s Day and Jason regrets agreeing to go on this date.

Weelll, kind of, but not exactly.

This “date” was actually a covert-op with three caped chaperones because he, Steph, Tim and Cass were all on cases that ended up being the same case.

Steph and Tim had caught wind of some allegedly magic potions becoming popular among college students used to help students score dates with their up coming Valentines. There weren’t any outright love potions but confidence boosters, things to increase your attractiveness, luck boosters, thing to get people in the mood. They had been investigating into it to make sure this wasn’t secretly a drug ring but found it to some real magical bullshit. They’d located the source’s lair/lab where they brewed the potions but not the potion brewer themselves.

Cass had been in Hong Kong when she caught wind of one of her targets following rumors of a witch who specialized in potions to grant small boons and bewitching charms. After dealing with her target she started tracking down the witch to find out her goals and intentions. She followed her trail across Asia, Europe and a good portion of the eastern seaboard before her path led her to Gotham.

Jason was investigating some upper middle class chick that started hanging around the alley trying to get in with the prostitutes and drag queens(and only succeeding in making them suspicious). She met several young men who abandoned the gang allegiances too trail after her like puppies. His investigation showed she was also circling Gotham elites and was in search of gossip on two things: people looking for love and a beau for herself.

They had been going over their cases at a team meeting when they realized their 3 targets were all the same woman. Between the four of them they pieced out she was some new age witch, descendent from an older family line looking to get rich and in a relationship. Her potions weren't really actively harmful but her use of them to gain the upper hand in business deals and amass a following of boytoys she decided weren’t hunky enough for her but would do as muscle was.

Tim and Steph knew she was planning on selling her potions at the Valentine’s/Winter market place in Robinson Park coming up. Jason and Cass knew she was looking to net some more followers while they were there so the plan was simple. One of the guys would go undercover to try and get recruited while the others stayed nearby for back up. They’d try to get some information out of her and if the need for it arose, to take her into custody and hand her off to the Justice League Dark. They’d already talked to Zatana to have her ready to come to Gotham should things go awry and gotten a charm from her to prevent them from getting put under her control.

Oh if only this didn’t go so wrong.

Unfortunately for Jason, he matched their little witch’s tastes to a tee. Thus, he was the one stuck being dragged around market under the guise of having agreed to a date with her. She dragged him around, made him pay for her things, tried to use his stature to intimidate others and was generally rude to the other patrons and staff. Oh, Jason despised her but grit his teeth and pretended to play nice. Cass was investigating her stall and Steph and Tim were tailing them.

Finally over the comms he heard the team confirm Cass had found the info she was looking for and he could finally ditch little miss witch. He broke it to her that he thought this wouldn’t work out and her eye just twitched. She must have tried to charm him because she asked him to stay with her and become her main beau, which he soundly refused. This set her off on a rage as she screeched over how her charm didn’t work and how Jason would have been perfect if she’d been able to get him under her thumb. He tried to back off when she lashed out with a magic rope insisting once she captured Jason he’d be the perfect leader to her adoring little boyfriend army.

So yeah she was more psycho than anticipated.

Spoiler and Red Robin began to swoop in for the rescue which only served to enraged her further. That’s when the team learned that she was talented in more than just potions. She used her magic to start awakening magical creatures in the park surrounding them. Nymphs shed from trees and little snow golems formed and began attacking RR and Spoiler.

Black Bat had run over to extract Jason when the witch noticed her. She shrieked in outraged proclaiming if she couldn’t have Jason no one else would and that he could become fish food for the frost creatures of Far Frozen before picking him up with a spectral vine and slamming him through the frozen lake into a swirling blue portal. Cass tried to go after him but the witch quickly engaged her with too much feral rage to realize she was outclassed in hand to hand against Black Bat. By the time Steph and Tim fought off the nymphs and golems it was too late. Whatever whirling portal had been in the lake closed and Jason was no where to be found.

As Jason pushed through the ice he had one final thought before he felt himself black out: ‘Worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

~ The first thing Jason felt when he came to was cold. He was still submerged under icy water. It was chilled him to the core but was almost soothing in a way. As if cooling of a burn. As is opened his eyes the world seemed to move in slow motion. He was still underwater surrounded by chunks of ice. He could make out sounds of distorted yelling as the world seem to get even slower.

Suddenly he felt something grab his collar and place itself under his arm. Jason was unceremoniously hoisted out of a frozen river and laid out on a river bank. He let out a harsh cough and his head got dizzy. He tried to regain his wits long enough to see who pulled him out.

It was large figure, maybe an inch or two taller than his 6 foot, with the bulk of a viking and the looks of one too. The man appeared to be around the same age as Jason, possibly older, and very concerned. He had messy white hair that was tied(or braided? Jason’s vision was still blurry) in the back. He was wearing armor made of some sort of hide leather and a dark gray metal (iron?) and covered in snow-white furs.

Jason stared at his savior trying to get his wits about him, willing his vision to clear. That’s Jason felt a warm fur cloak wrap around him as the man said something Jason wasn’t able to comprehend. He let out another harsh cough and felt himself being picked up in a princess carry. His rescuer moved incredibly fast for someone carrying a man of Jason’s stature. However, the motion did not help with the dizziness or the cold. Jason shivered, curling towards his “heroic knight” and pulling the cloak tighter around himself. This spurred the man to go faster.

Finally, everything stopped moving and Jason felt himself encompassed in warmth. Several more furs were wrapped around him and he was laid down to rest. At last Jason’s vision cleared enough to see the other man’s face properly. He had a rugged face and a strong jawline. He had a small scar near his eyebrow and round eyes with light eye bags beneath them. He had a straight nose and bow-shaped lips.

Jason felt the world slow down again and realized he’d soon pass out from the cold. The man lifted Jason’s head and slipped a pillow underneath. A rough hand gently pushed the wet hair out of his face and caressed his cheek. Jason stared into the man’s eye. They were kind, gentle, and such a vibrant green they seemed to glow. The man gave him a small smile and the last thing Jason heard before falling asleep was a soothing voice telling him “Rest, we will take care of you.” And with that Jason felt himself relax and fell asleep.

~ When Jason came to the first thing he saw was a 20-something-foot tall yeti with an icy cybernetic arm looming over the foot of his bed.

He promptly screamed and fell out of bed.

A vaguely familiar voice called out from another room.

“ FROSTBITE! I thought I told you not to scare him!”

In walked the man that had saved Jason from an icy death. Upon closer inspection now that he wasn’t dying the man seem 10 times as beautiful than Jason remembered. He almost seemed to have this ethereal glow to him. The man continued to admonish the yeti who just laughed heartily and continued on with whatever task he was trying to complete. The man turned his attention to Jason, smiling at him in apology and lifting him back into the bed.

“ I’m sorry about Frostbite. He won’t admit it but I think he gets a crack out of scaring his patients,” He said with a placating chuckle. His mirthful eyes met Jason’s puzzled ones and he continued on as he began to fiddle with few thermoses, seemingly searching for one in particular.

“ You must be quite confused. I don’t exactly know how you ended up here but this place called the Far Frozen. I felt a pulse of magic near the river and went to investigate and ended up fished you of the water. You were nearly frozen so I brought you back to village where you could get warmed up and medics like Frostbite could help you before the actual frostbite set in.”

He chuckled at his own joke before placing a cup in Jason’s hands.

“ It’s soup, drink up. It’ll help you get warm.”

Jason hesitantly took a sip of his soup. It was surprisingly good! He continued to sip his soup and Jason observed the man. He had a rather muscular build Jason noticed, staring at the man for no other reason than assessing if he’d be a potential threat (and for absolutely no other reason). Danny finished closing up his thermos and continued to speak.

“ I promise once Frostbite treats you for any illness or injury. I’ll help you get home. -Oh where are my manners” he held his hand out for Jason to shake. “You can call me Phantom.”

“ Call me Jay,” he replied, taking Phantom’s hand and a glance at his biceps. Phantom pulled away and stood up.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to resting. I’ll come back later when Frostbite gives you a check up and we can talk about how you got here and how to get you back” He turned and began to walk out before turning his head back one last time and waved. “I’ll see in a bit Jay.”

Jason watched him go and fell back into bed having finished his soup. As he pulled the furs and blankets back over himself he thought ‘Well maybe it’s not the worst Valentine’s Day ever.’

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

Hello there!! Just saw you had your request open and I just have to ask for scenarios for the Konoha Founders getting caught making out with their s/o not inherently in a sexual way but more suggestive and yk romantic kind of just showing their appreciation of having their s/o by their side in a passionate way (I just think their reactions would be hilarious especially if it's their sibling catching them so bonus for Madaras scenario if Izuna is still alive)

/Sorry it took so long, I hope it is good.

Madara Uchiha

Madara had kept his eyes on you all day, you had smiled and greeted the people walking past you. Your kindness and warmth create a bridge between him and the villagers. Konoha was still new and many villagers were still frightened and on edge with a Uchiha being part of the foundation of the village, the tension of war still looming the citizens were on edge but yet people were attracted to your kindness.

He watched as a child handed you a flower and he could feel his heart race, as you put the flower in your hair and smiled, your eyes catching him, a beautiful blush hinting at your cheek, “What?” You questioned.

“I am realizing we didn’t have alone time in a while,” Madara was hinting towards a small alley wedged between two houses, “and how beautiful you look,” he took his hint grabbing his lover’s hand he lead them to some privacy behind the buildings. His fingers explored his lover’s body while his lips captured theirs and tasted his lover’s lips.

He was in a warm embrace he didn’t notice a familiar chakra approaching them as he was caught in your embrace. A clearing of a throat caught his attention and Izuna stood at the end of the alleyway with a cat-like smirk. “I see you are busy,” Izuna grinned finding amusement in his brother's cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

Tobirama Senju

“You completely missed your target,” Tobirama was leaning on the tree in the training ground. His eyes were closed but still, he knew you missed your target. You had asked him to help train as your skills with the Kunia have been lacking, you know how serious Tobirama was when it came to training.

You had gotten better after an hour of training with him instead of hitting the ground or throwing the Kunai past the dummy you had managed to hit the marker. But it wasn’t good enough, you wanted to hit your target a few times but not in the bullseye you wanted, and not with the level of skill Tobirama would have hit it.

“Do you mind helping me instead of just standing there,” You huffed your arms on your waist.

He nodded walking towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist he was more than willing to help guide you with the skills you needed. He froze suddenly aware of intimate the scene would look to passersby he would have pulled away but he liked being this close. His hands went to your chin tilting your head so he made eye contact with him and he locked your lips with yours. It was short and sweet and everything you imagined.

“I am sorry,” a voice called out, Hashirama had been walking towards you two but was now changing directions, “I will ask another time,” his face red.

Tobirama also pushing looked away, “That is enough training for today,” he said clearing his throat.

Hashirama 

Work had piled up since the war ended and the village was created, Hashirama sat in his office staring at all the paperwork he had to read and look over. A few of them were letters of admiration, but most were letters from villagers asking for help and wanting to send ninjas on a dangerous mission. Life had been peaceful for the most part after the war but some stragglers chose to break the rule and make life harder for citizens. Thugs really.

He didn’t look up when the door opened and you walked in, your fingers brushing on his back and catching his attention, “hey,” you whispered, with a shy smile. He smiled back at you his arms reaching out inviting you to sit on his lap. You gladly accepted his offer taking a seat in his lap, “you were busy all morning, and I was worried about you,” you said placing a hand on his cheek. He smiled and nibbled on your finger tasting you.

“I am sorry,” he said wrapping his fingers with yours, I just got busy,” he kissed your temple before he kissed your lips. You tasted so good so sweet like the sweetest candy, and he was being treated for going through so much work. You were both caught in the kiss your fingers tangling with his hair before pulling away for some air.

“Are you two done?” A stern voice caught both of your attention. Tobirama stood in front of the desk his face also red while he showed his irritation.

Hashirama grinned at his brother, “What is wrong with treating myself,”

[johannestevans]

The Joy of Trans Creation

On the liberty of making unapologetically transgender art.

Originally published in Prism & Pen.

For me as a child, there was no real transgender representation around me.

Transfeminine characters were exciting when I saw them, even though they were frequently the butt of jokes, highly sexualised, or the targets of violence from the narratives they appeared in. They were never afforded complex character arcs, and I can’t recall any trans women on my screens or on the pages of the books appearing for more than an episode or in small appearance before being killed or disappearing off-screen.

And trans men?

Nothing.

In the British soap series, Waterloo Road, there was a narrative about a trans guy that started when I was a young teenager myself, and it was… difficult. The narrative was clumsy and uninformed about trans experiences. It seemed more about cisgender parents’ anxieties about their trans children and was very conservative in extending liberty or freedom to the trans guy’s life or his body. He was sporty, a football player, and dykey — he was presented almost as if he was transitioning just to play sports.

And the obvious inspiration for this Waterloo Road plot, She’s The Man (2006) was…

Well, that wasn’t much to write home about either. The film is about a girl disguising herself as a boy in order to play soccer. I know that Amanda Bynes, who played the protagonist in She’s The Man, has talked in interviews about experiencing a lot of gender dysphoria whilst in the role, but what better encapsulation of the fact that trans roles were and still are so often played by cis actors who have no business doing so?

I remember watching She’s The Man as a kid and finding a lot of the jokes not very funny. These two trans male narratives, the only ones that I ever saw until I was much older, bore no resemblance to my life, my desires, and my feelings, whatsoever.

They were cisgender heterosexual people’s fantasies of transgender men. One is about a woman “thankfully” going back on her vile trans ways and revealing herself to be sexy and female after playing at being a pathetic and unmasculine man; the other is about an undesirable and lesbianish teenager who is “obviously” transitioning to get around misogyny, more than for any of his internal feelings.

I felt far more gender euphoria — far more excitement, more sense of feeling loved and cared for and genuinely represented and validated — when I saw effortlessly queer and fruity men on my screens. Characters like Hook and Smee in Hook (1991), or Armand and Albert in The Birdcage (1996): two silly, middle-aged men being overdramatic and in love with one another. Or characters like Hollywood Montrose in Mannequin (1987): fashion-focused, catty and, emotional.

Or, hell, even characters like the sexy gay leather bikers in the Blue Oyster Bar in the Police Academy movies — they’re intended as a recurring punchline, but nevertheless portrayed hot hairy men who dance the tango and unapologetically love and desire other men.

I did not feel like or want to be an eternal little boy for being transgender, continuously infantilised and emasculated, treated as if I wasn’t a real man. Moreover, I had no interest in feeling or acting as though manhood or masculinity or men were something I should have been superior to.

I’m a fashionable, pretty gay dude with so many joint problems that going for a jog can put me out of action for days. Narratives about straight trans guys, let alone ultra-sporty ones, couldn’t bear any less resemblance to my life or my desires as a man.

There’s a reason many cisgender people are attracted to these narratives about transmasculinity, and unfortunately, it has nothing to do with truly supporting the trans men who are lesbians, or who are sporty or straight. It has more to do with their feelings about which “women” are best to “allow” to transition, and so much of those feelings are based on their expectations of female attractiveness or desirability within heterosexual society, and never truly afford love or respect to those men.

And men like me?

We’re unthinkable, and thus, invisible.

Times have changed, a little — I do see more trans men on television and in film, bit by bit. I know that in animation particularly, great strides are being made in portraying various trans characters, and we see a much wider variety of trans characters in shows and film.

I do still think that I see far more they/them trans masc types who are often a white monolith with similar butch lesbian stylings, dyed hair, and certain piercings, often as a sort of introduction for cis hetero viewers to the concept of nonbinary identity or the use of they/them pronouns. I know many people like this in real life, nonbinary or trans, and the issue isn’t their physical appearance or the fact that they’re depicted like this — it’s that their characterisations are so often one-note.

I can’t think of seeing a character introduced as nonbinary who appears more transfeminine, or who characters would automatically label as “he” instead of “she” before being corrected to they/them, because nonbinary identity is treated in popular media as a sort of woman-lite; I can think of one gay trans guy who’s in Shameless; I can’t think of many trans men on television at all or in film who are fat, non-white or disabled.

Television and film are still a long way behind the beautiful diversity of real trans experience — but I write books and short stories. I get to create, as a gay trans man, trans men like me, and trans men like my friends, and craft narratives about trans experience that cisgender people would never be able to.

I published my second novel this month. One of the main characters is a transmasc fallen angel with BPD — he’s cold and arrogant, manipulative, cruel, and at the same time, he’s endlessly loving and charismatic, he’s beautiful and savage, he’s radical and believes strongly in his ideas, and in the rights of everybody.

I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams as a child seeing a character like that in any book I read. But many other trans men, trans people, queer people, and readers in general, will be able to pick up my book and connect to that character, see themselves in him, and love him or despise him as they might any other character.

There is no limit as an indie author to the trans characters that I can create, or how many of them I can have. I don’t have to limit myself to having a singular trans man on a cast of cis-hetero characters, his whole person and physicality aligned to the cisgender stereotype of transmasculinity.

I have dozens of trans characters in the universes I create, and many of them are trans men like me, or not: fat trans men, trans men of colour, Jewish trans men, disabled trans men, traumatised trans men. They’re tailors, revolutionaries, students, teachers, historians, archivists, office workers, stablehands, fops, librarians, adventurers, rogues, pirates, sailors, bastards or angels, heroes or villains.

The sheer joy of that reality is striking me regularly at the moment whenever someone leaves a kind or enthusiastic comment on my works or in their reviews. There’s so much joy that people display in reading my short stories or buying my books, and God, the wonder that I feel when I attend conventions or events and people recognise me or recognise my work and enthuse about it to me.

There is no greater compliment to me, no better assurance, no more loving thing to be told or to overhear, than “Finally, I feel seen.”

“He’s just like me!” or “I’ve never felt so represented,” or “Oh, I want to be him. I am him already. I love him.”

It’s lonely to be transgender.

In a society that punishes and penalises any acts of gender transgression or perceived deviation from the norm or expectation, the transgender or nonbinary or otherwise gender-nonconforming person is constantly at risk — and aware of the risk — of ostracisation, of victimisation, of violence, or assault. We go through life aware that we may be attacked or discredited, violently assaulted, denied medical care, treated as unworthy of love, abused, harmed, hurt.

We must fear and be wary of isolation from our friends, our loved ones, and our communities, because society fears us and has been taught it can hate us. Other people, those that we love, that we care about, forging those connections and keeping them strong, they are how we can survive.

And how do we do that, when we don’t know in our heart of hearts that those like us exist? When we can’t be sure that we exist?

I was very lucky as a young man to feel confident and assured in seeing myself and then establishing myself as like the queer, fruity men that I saw and loved on the screen, no matter that they weren’t made with the thought of transgender men like me. Yet so many others, people I talk to, people I’ve never heard of, do not have that assurance.

They stand in front of a mirror and they don’t see anything. To feel transgender before one’s transition is often to see oneself or think of oneself as existing in potentia. We are an egg yet to crack and hatch; we are a soul without a vessel as yet.

How can we imagine a future for ourselves when we can’t envisage it? When we have no framework or canvas or idea of how a person like us can look, can live, can exist? How can we conceive of what we might be or what we truly are, when we might be grappling with our own pains and trauma and dysphoria, and at the same time society’s disregard of us, when we have never known or thought of others like us existing — let alone existing in beautiful diversity, in variety, in the complexity that we truly do?

Whenever I get one of those comments or whenever someone says a kind word to me about my work as a trans man and I see the light in that person’s eyes or the enthusiasm in the words they’ve written, there is an unspeakably immense happiness and joy in it.

To have taken part in that, to have created a mirror for that person to see themselves in, a character or characters that make that person feel real— not merely validated or represented, but seen and loved and cared for by a complete stranger, I can name no greater privilege.

It’s a shame I didn’t have that in my childhood, sure, but what’s important is that I and, far more importantly, a whole variety of trans and nonbinary creators, are doing that work today.

In Daniel Ortberg’s Something That May Shock and Discredit You, there’s a truly beautiful quote:

As my friend Julian puts it, only half winkingly: “God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.”

In being transgender I have created myself — no longer in potentia, I have developed and evolved. I’ve played with my hair and my face and my jewellery and my clothes; I’ve fed and nurtured my masculinity and my love for men and manhood as a gay man; I have created myself, and that’s been very joyful for me…

But to create works that help other people, transgender or otherwise, men or otherwise, create themselves? See for themselves the sort of people they’d like to be, how they would like to make themselves created?

That is a triumph beyond measure, and I am so grateful to do so.

[herozdiary]

Hellooo 👋 I know you’re busy with other requests but I can’t help with this idea

With hyperpink girly reader (gender neutral Ofc or your choice) though they may seem mean to others but is really nice to Simon, very affectionate to him (covering his face with pink lip gloss marks) , and protective too. Chase Simon’s bullies away with their neon pink platform heels.

I’ve been obsessing with pink x emo dynamic

Take however long you want!! Thanks for reading this and I hope you’ll have a good day/night ✊

Bubblegum

Simon x reader

This diary entry contains…established relationship | Talk of poor mental health | mentions of bullying | reader is a icon | Simon is just Simon | just the two of you being cuties | slight obsessive behavior

Simon was a loser and you were the popular icon of the college you both went to.Your style was so pretty and colorful,Mostly pink but any color would fit you.

You met Simon on your first day when you needed help finding the girls restroom to re-do your lip combo.He instantly fell in love with you.

He soon enough made a big enough of move to get closer to you and you guys ended up getting close to each other to start dating blah blah blah!

Once you guys got close enough he confessed about how he was struggling with poor mental health and was a main target for bullying.

You never liked them.You use to be a target for bullying until you kinda just snapped and told them off.You were left alone after that and ever since then you been helping people who get bullied.

You sat on his bed as he cleaned up his floor.You had came over to listen to him vent and to help him with some English because he needed an idea of what to write.

“People are so shitty sometimes Simon,but you gotta ignore them and show them you don’t care! They’re just a bunch of self projecting losers”You say while fixing your digital camera.

Simon nodded before shrugging.He didn’t have the confidence like you did.You made yourself known while he kinda just stood on the side lines and supported you.”come here”you say gently as you place your camera on Simon’s windowsill.

Simon got up from his spot on the floor and made his way towards you.he sat next to you before staring into your eyes.You grab the sides of his stubble covered face and plant small kisses all over his face.

You had applied some cute pink lipgloss a couple of minutes earlier so you left sticky lipgloss kiss marks.You giggled at your work before grabbing your camera and snapping a quick photo of Simon.

He started down at your lap before smiling.”You’re so so so so soo handsome babe.Im kinda glad some girls don’t you like you because now I can have you all to myself!”You joke as you place a couple more kisses on his face.

Simon feels his face get red as he hides his face in his hands.Girls never were into him as much as your were.He had Sophie yeah but Sophie only saw him as a friend

You were different.unlike Sophie,you didn’t leave him but you stayed with him and comforted him.When Sophie rejected him and made up the excuse she had to go,You stayed with him the whole entire night listening to him vent.

Simon and Sophie are still I guess you could call them friends but he doesn’t talk with her anymore as much.He has you!When Simon does talk to Sophie he mostly talks about his life and how you made it much better.

People still don’t know how Simon was able to get with someone like you.You were a likeable,bubbly and a talkative person unlike Simon who was like the complete opposite,but they do say opposites attract.

You sometimes would even chase them off,it didn’t matter what type of shoes you were wearing you could run in 6 inch heels and still look flawless spewing out curses word at a bunch of losers who were picking on Simon.

Sometimes Simon would help with picking your outfits!he didn’t have much fashion sense when it came to himself but when he came to you,He knew exactly how to dress you.

“Ok Simon!I have this cute baby pink crop top or should I wear the baby blue one?”You ask while showing your boyfriend the two shirts.Simon did a quick scan off both shirts before looking at the skirt you had picked out.It was a black,pleated skirt with small rhinestones on the belt loops.

“I feel like you should wear the blue one.I think it would go good with the skirt your gonna wear”Simon said while going back to messing with his camera,

You nod as you toss the pink shirt back into the closet before smiling at Simon and thanking him for his help.Not only was he such a cutie but a big help when it came to styling you.

He was the only male you would trust picking out your outfits.Sometimes the two of you would match if you were able to convince him.it would take a couple minutes of begging but sooner or later you would make Simon have matching pink themed outfits!

Even if he found it absolutely ridiculous,As long as you were happy he was even more happy.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Congrats on 1200!🥳

I have a prompt for a scene for you!

The Starcourt Mall's parking is one of Eddie's prime places for dealing. One night during a deal, he spots a tired boy in a sailor suit leave the mall and what ensues is a quiet obsession.

Eddie intentionally starts parking his van close to Steve's car until he works up the courage to offer Steve a smoke on a night he looks particulary wound up.

Ahhhh! I just finished this, Idk if this is what you had in mind but I really enjoyed writing this :) I'm realizing I kind of really like answering requests 😂

Eddie’s work schedule was typically very flexible. Some days he would be in the alley behind the local theater. Others he would be at the picnic table. Today was a newer spot, the mall parking lot.

His metal lunch pal was sitting next to him as he constantly eyes the crowd shifting in and out from the main doors. Scouting out the kind of people that showed up.

There were the mothers who were bringing their kids to buy new school clothes, even though the first day back was over a month from now. Along with mothers were grandmothers, and younger women coming in for Jazzercise. The final group that Eddie noticed, that were most likely going to be his prime target, were the hicks. Those who drove in from the countryside, wearing worn out flannel, snap backs and had mullets that put Billy Ray Cyrus to shame.

There was nothing rednecks loved more than their mullets and moonshine, but weed was slowly catching each and every one of their hearts. Soon enough Eddie was sure he was going to have a small cult following from outside of Hawkins.

Eddie is turning the key in his ignition, preparing to head to his next location when he spots him. A sailor who floated right through the ocean of people with ease. His demeanor was tense, and he seemed uncomfortable. Eddie would to if he were wearing those shorts. Especially if he knew people like himself were staring at him.

Eddie can’t help himself, he stops his foot from stepping on the gas and checks out Popeye the Sailor. Little chest hairs were poking out from where the stripe shirt sagged a bit, and holy fuck was Eddie thankful he decided to park ten feet away from the mall instead of thirty. If he had done that then he wouldn’t be seeing this fine seaman right in front of.

This sailor was only confirming Eddie has a certain type. It was one thing to be attracted to Robin Williams and Harrison Ford on TV. That could be a fluke. However, seeing someone who looked like a mix of both in public and immediately falling head over heels was not.

Let the record show that he, Eddie Munson, was obsessed. Not in a stalker kind of way, but in a way he craved to be closer to the other man and was willing to do anything to achieve that.

Alright, that does sound like stalker behavior.

But Eddie knows that he wouldn't go that far. At most, he would park his car next to the other just to get a better look.

When the sailor looks up and makes eye contact with him, Eddie begins to flounder around. Face a slightly red as he tries to remember what he was doing.

Right, he had to be behind the theater to give Hopper his normal deal.

It was a couple of weeks after the first sighting that Eddie finally talked to Steve. After watching the sailor for a while, learning his name from his name tag, he discovered he had a slight routine. Step out around seven pm for a smoke break, sit on the curve in the designated smoke area and then grab something from his car before moving back inside.

Eddie was not stalking. He was just being observant. He had to be in the parking lot anyway, already having a decent amount of paying customers to tend to.

It was just a “coincidence” that he happened to find a empty spot right next to Steves car for three nights in a row. Nothing more.

It was now the fourth night and Steve was finally coming over to grab something from his car. The last three nights, all surrounding the Fourth of July, had been extremely busy. The other man could barely get five minutes to smoke before someone came out to get him.

Eddie had been disappointed, he really wanted to get a close-up of the man. He of course could go into the mall like any other customer but he had duties to fulfill. Such as giving half of the hicks inside their stash. He tried entering the mall once but was almost immediately stopped by one of his customers. He wanted to be discreet about dealing in the parking lot, that would be difficult if people decided to swarm him for their supply right next to the security guards.

Hicks were never that smart.

Now here he was with an opportunity and he was almost fucking it up. Steve had bent down to search for something from his glove box, his ass poking out from the car as he does. Eddie nearly chokes on the joint in his mouth when he sees freckles trailing down the other man's back and down to his ass.

From where he was sitting, his van being taller then Steve’s car, he could catch a small peak into Steve’s pants each time he moved just right. His pants, which looked extremely tight, didn't leave much to the imagination. They would slide an inch or two down before quickly snapping back up when Steve shimmied his hips just right.

Eddie’s sure his mouth was open.

“Fuck!” Steve curses out loudly, slamming the glove box shut with a loud wham! His hands move up to fidget with his hair, that was no longer covered by his hat. He steps away from the car and continues to curse more, clearly stressed.

“Hey man, you alright?” Eddie asks before he could think. He’s always been impulsive.

Steve jumps startled. Looking up to meet Eddie's gaze, his eyes were wide and a little glossy. As if he were close to tears.

“Yeah—yeah. I just forgot my meds.” Steve admits, slowly cooling off. Probably for show as he slams the passenger door shut, still clearly upset even though he was trying to hide it.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows concerned. There wasn't much he could do to help, he felt useless.

“Well uh… do you need a fag?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow, already having his pack of Marlboro out the window and open.

His use of the word held a double meaning, but he doubted Steve would catch on. It was just an inside joke with himself. A play on words.

Steve’s eyes flicker between the cigarettes and Eddie before he reaches forward and snatches one. Moving his hands in his pants pockets causing them to pull down slightly and reveal more of his happy trail. Eddie has to hold back from physically gulping like a cartoon character.

Steve doesn't notice. He lights his smoke with the lighter he pulled out and sucks the smoke into his mouth, his lips a soft pink. His checks slightly pull in and Eddie has way too many suggestive images pop up. His brain is blue screening when Steve flutters his eyes open to look back up at him, his eyelashes dragging beautifully against his cheek bone.

“So, when are you going to make your guest appearance in Scoops, Munson?” Steves's voice is light, teasing. His body moves forward, purposely leaning up against the van door, his shirt pulling down to give Eddie the perfect view of his hairy chest.

“Oh um— I uh— I don't know.” Eddie stammers over his words. His face is a light pink as he tries to discreetly flicker his eyes between Steves's eyes, lips, and chest. He doesn't know how he was going to make it out of this encounter alive.

“Hm- should swing by sometime.” Steve comments, carefully taking another drag from the Marlboro. He releases the smoke from his mouth to meet what was already in Eddie’s van.

“Could give you a discount, or a free scoop to repay you for this,” Steve suggests, carefully showing his fingers that were wrapped around the stick.

God did Eddie wish he could be in its place.

“Oh- I uh.. Don't care. I sort of have to stay out here though. Business you know?” Eddie isn't sure he is even understandable.

Steve’s eyes pinch together with what may be disappointment. It only lasts for a few minutes before he sparks back up.

“Ok- what are your doing after the mall closes?” he asks. He looked like an excited puppy.

“Nothing, just heading home.” Eddie answers truthfully, watching as Steve’s eyes do that thing again before they look around to make sure no one was listening.

“Well, if you're still out here— I could possibly sneak you in to choose your flavor?” Steve suggests. Eddie thinks he might be hinting at something more.

“Oh — yeah, I'll be here.” Eddie stutters out, Blushing as Steve carefully lifts the cigarette from his own mouth up to Eddie’s. A teasing look in his eyes as Eddie carefully wraps his lips around it without thinking.

“Well- see you then.” Steve grins, stepping down from his tip toes as he walks away from the van with purpose. Hips swaying back and forth in a way that makes his shorts pull up to reveal a little more.

If Eddie didn't know better, he thinks Steve was doing it on purpose for him.

If anyone else has any requests, my asks are open :)