#he wants SOMETHING that belongs to himself and he wants others to be happy because he exists

[ichigo-plasma]

I LOVE HARUKA, he's so cute 🥺🥰 I like yandere subs. And can you write more about Haruka? Like if the fem reader is going to confess to Haruka and if the reader is more dominant? pushing Haruka further and further to the limit until he becomes a crying mess...

Can I be the anon"🌙"?

The Attention You Crave

Synopsis: Haruka is super obsessed with you. He started stalking you and memorizing your routine in Milgram, taking some of your belongings... he was pathetic for you really. But unbeknownst to him, you didn't mind, you were into it, you liked how pathetic he was for you. And tonight, you are going to make sure he knows.

On The Menu: you heard 🌙 anon, reader is more dominant, Haruka is a masochist so he is super into it (he is a canon masochist), suggestive, yandere Haruka, stalking, a slap based and choking based on Es's interrogation with Haruka in T1, Yuno, Muu, and Es mentioned!, Haruka lied about his age because he’s embarrassed about how old he is

A/N: Milgram T3 made me sad but while Haruka might be not doing well in Jackalope's Milgram, in the Ichigo-Plasma Milgram world, Haruka is doing just fine! I tend to make Haruka as more of a switch but I am down to try domming him. Let’s make him cry happy tears! Let’s all dom Haruka Sakurai! ^_^ <3 Please enjoy 🌙 anon if you have more requests send them my way!

Haruka had always been drawn to you. It started the moment you first spoke to him in Milgram, the way your voice held a warmth he had never known. You looked at him—really looked at him—without disgust, without fear. Your attention became his addiction, something he craved more than he could admit.

So he started following you. Not in an obvious way, but enough to learn your habits, enough to always be near when you needed something. It wasn’t creepy, he told himself. He just… wanted to be close to you. And maybe he stole some stuff from your cell in Milgram… he managed to snag some of your underwear before it made it to the prison laundry, he’d lick the extra scraps off your food tray that you didn’t finish—savoring licking each spike of your used fork… he knows it was not super normal but he truly just wanted to feel closer, that’s all! You hadn’t seemed to notice!

But the more time passed, the more he needed from you. Your praise. Your kindness. Your touch. He started sneaking into your cell when you were hanging with other prisoners—taking in your scent on your bed and running away before he knew you’d be making your way back (don’t ask how he knew when you’d come back). He will admit though, he was getting a bit bold and clumsy with his stalking and one day when he came to lick the extra food off your tray, you left a little message reading “I left some extra of the foods I know you like Mr. Stalker~<3”.

And when he realized you knew? That you had seen right through him? That was when his whole world completely shifted—because unbeknownst to him you were into it.

You liked how pathetic he was for you.

You liked how desperate he was.

And tonight, you were going to make sure he knew it.

Haruka barely had time to react before you shoved him against the wall. His breath hitched, his body jolting at the force of it, but he didn’t try to run. He liked this. The way you overpowered him, the way your hands gripped him like you owned him.

“W-Wait, y-you’re s-serious?” he stammered, wide-eyed.

You grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, his lips trembling as you traced your fingers over his throat, barely applying pressure—just enough to make him feel it.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” you murmured, watching as he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing under your touch. “What, do you not want me, Haruka? I know you’re the reason some of my underwear are missing. I saw them in your cell covered in wet stains.”

His breath hitched, his hands twitching at his sides. “I-I… I d-d—” He shook his head frantically, but his body betrayed him—his lips parted slightly, his knees trembling.

You chuckled. “Liar.”

A soft whimper escaped him as you pressed closer, your hand slowly traveling down his arm before catching his wrist. His fingers twitched under your grip, his whole body shaking.

“I bet you love this,” you whispered, your lips barely brushing against his ear. “Being completely at my mercy… pinned against a wall with nowhere to run.”

He shuddered.

“I-I—” he started to whimper but he looked more starstruck than upset. Happy to finally have your attention one on one.

“You can’t even deny it, can you?” Your fingers ghosted down the side of his throat, tracing the rapid thrum of his pulse. “Such a cute little masochist… I wonder what else you’d let me do to you?”

His whole body tensed, a quiet gasp escaping his lips. “P-Please…” he whimpered, not even knowing what he was begging for.

You smiled. “Please what?”

He shivered violently. His hands, which had been clenched into fists inside his cutely oversized Milgram shirt sleeves, hesitantly moved—gripping your own sleeves, desperate, needy.

“A-Anything,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Y-You can do a-anything to m-”

Oh, he had no idea what he had just agreed to.

*Slap.*

A sharp whimper nearing a moan tore from his lips as your palm met his cheek—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to shock him, to leave a lingering warmth on his skin. His breath hitched, and for a split second, his lashes fluttered as his whole body shuddered.

“You're funny, Haruka,” you mused, your fingers gripping his jaw, tilting his head up so he couldn’t look away. “I think you like this a little too much.”

A whimper escaped him, his hands now twitching at his sides. “I-I…”

Your other hand slid down his chest, slowly, teasingly, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his pants just enough to make him feel it. You could tell he was getting hard, a small bulge forming in his pants. His breath hitched, his knees wobbling as his whole body became hyper-aware of your every touch down where he needed it most.

“Then beg me,” you murmured.

Haruka whined, his face going impossibly red embarrassed that he was enjoying this so much, finally getting your attention. “P-Please… t-touch me, u-use me, I-I d-don’t care—j-just don’t s-giving me attention—”

God, he was adorable.

You pressed your knee between his thighs, just enough to make him gasp, feeling the now hard bulge begging for relief through his pants, his hands clutching at your clothes in pure desperation. “So needy,” you mused, tilting your head. “You really do love being controlled, don’t you?”

He nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “I-I do—I-I w-want you t-to t-take c-control—”

You brought your hands to his neck and lightly squeezed his throat, just enough to cut off the next word, just the right amount you knew a masochist like him would like. (Yuno told you he’d probably like it when she told you what she heard about Haruka’s interrogation with Es, maybe Es even told you themself).

His breath stuttered, his lashes fluttering shut for a moment before he forced himself to look at you again, drunkenly grinning like you were giving him ultimate pleasure.

Your lips curled into a smirk. “Go on, beg for it.”

His whole body trembled but he couldn’t stop smiling drunkenly, his grip tightening on your sleeves. “P-Please… I-I w-want you t-to t-take control… u-use me, d-do whatever y-you want, j-just don’t stop paying attention to m-me—” 

God, he was so cute and pathetic.

You chuckled, releasing his throat to let him to gasp for air. “You’re so cute… I bet you’d let me do anything to you.”

Haruka nodded frantically. His face was flushed and he was crying a bit to the point of whining, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “A-Anything… I-I b-belong to y-you, I-I’ll d-do whatever you w-want—”

Your hand slid down his chest, manicured nails courtesy of Muu sliding up under his shirt tracing his skin. His breath hitched, his whole body tensing.

“Good boy, happy you accepted my confession” you whispered.

A shuddering whimper escaped him, his knees threatening to buckle.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. “You’re mine now, Haruka. I’ll give you all the attention and love you crave.”

A sob tore from his throat. His whole body trembled as he clung to you, his nails digging into your clothes, as if you’d disappear if he let go. He was a mess—whimpering, gasping, crying from sheer happiness, his voice cracking as he nuzzled desperately into you. Happy to finally be noticed by you, to be loved weakly.

“Th-Thank you… th-thank y-you… I-I l-love you, I-I l-love you s-so much, p-please d-don’t l-let me go, p-please…” he whined.

You smirked, petting his hair like he was a cute puppy as his tall stature practically melted in your touch. Hopeless. Completely, utterly hopeless for you.

[negrowhat]

I loved your discussion of Payu and Rain’s d/s dynamic; can you do it for Johann and North? I feel like Johann likes power play but in a really gentle way, and North might not initiate it but seems willing and responsive to that kind of play as well. It’s super cute.

Hey friend!!! JohanNorth have quite the dynamic...one that I very much enjoy. Again I would like to say I'm no expert in D/s as a kink, and that's not what this post is going to be like anyway.

I want you to know I typed this up, and deleted it, and typed it up again several times because I was starting to ramble and this was getting long af. I am going to insert a page break so people can scroll if they want to.

Let's talk about it.

I think JohanNorth's whole dynamic is very much give and take. Or more like, 'I'm giving you me please take me and give yourself to me in return.' "ALL OF ME LOVES ALL OF YOU" type vibe. Please sing that in John Legend's voice or you won't understand.

JohanNorth's beginning feels like a Dom/sub thing but in the end it changes to something completely different. Not everyone goes into a relationship feeling 100% comfortable with each other.

Johan had more time to have his feelings for North develop because he spent so much time falling in love and being there for North when North had no idea who he was. So by the time Johan was granted access to approach North he was already level-minded and clear headed. He was solid. That meant he could focus everything on North.

He was so ready to handle North's bar fight situation in away that would pull his most precious boy right into his awaiting orbit. It did help that Johan had so many people in his corner who knew the dedication he had to North.

I think once Johan got over the major hurtle of letting his feelings be known to North he was ready to play hard ball, no more holding back. He confessed and gauged North's reaction to him. North was excited about the confession. He was happy to know someone as kind and as capable as Johan would be so into him. That gave Johan the greenlight he needed to advance.

I don't think Johan's into power play exactly, I think in the beginning he asserts some level of power to draw out North's confidence in him and their relationship. I think he used some more aggressive tactics to kind of push North out of his comfort zone so he could get used to being in a relationship with him.

Like in the beginning we definitely see Johan be more dominant, and take control of their relationship's progression, but as soon as North starts to return some of that assertive energy Johan starts to mellow out. I think he was treating North how he wanted to be treated in return. And when they reach a stable emotional plane Johan becomes softer, sweeter, and more vulnerable.

Ultimately Johan wanted North to be possessive and selfish with him. He wanted North to take from him. He wanted to give himself to North. And he wanted to take North for himself in return.

Speaking of possession; Johan is physical in a way that SCREAMS 'I'm obsessed with you. I want to possess you. You belong to me.' The way he kisses North??? The way he devours his lips? That hand that ALWAYS finds it's way around his throat? The tie yanks? The hair pulls? It's like he can't get enough of North. It's like if he lets North go, he'll vanish. He's obsessed.

Also the way he just holds onto North. He wraps himself around the boy. And once North is settled there he will not let the boy go. That whole scene in the café where he pulls North into his lap and just traps him there. They would need the jaws of life to pry his arms from around that boy and what does North do? Allows it. He always does. He likes it when Johan treats him like a big ole teddy bear. Holding onto him tightly, kissing him whenever he feels like it. North loves it, he's usually smiling about it, hands placed obediently over Johan's.

Let's talk about the little transactional method Johan established with North. I love it. It's another habit he's formed to kind of pull North out of his comfort zone...maybe depend on him a little more. I love that he shamelessly offers to pay North for his time and affection and attention. A kiss? A hug? A cute lil video? Smexy time? He's willing to PAY for everything North does because he wants everything from him. He wants North to feel like he can express himself however he wants to.

Going back to Johan wanting North to be more selfish with him. I think that's why he kind of conditioned North to exchange kisses in return for him fulfilling requests. It's ok for North to ask anything of Johan but he also wants North to feel okay with being affectionate with him and asking or demanding some affection in return. Johan asks for the simplest of kisses for payment and he will fill North's every desire and answer every question.

I think Johan wanted to get out of the habit of asking North, "What do you want from me?" and get him into the habit of asking for it on his own. Like when he coaxes North into asking him to take the lead when they kiss. Instead of Johan having to ask, "Do you want me to kiss you?" he would prefer if North asks, "Can you kiss me?" You know? Be more proactive.

If North wants something from Johan he only needs to ask and be confident with it and Johan is ready to serve. He doesn't want North to feel any sort of negative way for wanting to take from him because everything he has is for North. Also this way he gets to enjoy more kisses from those lips he loves so much.

North is the kind of guy who wants to take care of himself and solve all issues on his own. He's willing to work THREE jobs on top of school to take care of his business. So of course he finds it hard to ask Johan for anything. He finds it hard to tell Johan when he's having a problem. He doesn't want to bother him, he doesn't want to upset, and above all he doesn't want to burden him. Johan treats him so well and he is too fearful to ask for more from him. And I'm sure he's worried that Johan may think he's together with him for all the wrong reasons.

Even if Johan is literally throwing money at him for existing and buying up all his workplaces so he can be the one to take care of North one way or another. Even if Johan is increasing his own workload so he can take over his father's company faster so he can provide for North. Even if Johan moves North into his condo to take away one less expense in the boy's life.

I appreciate that the people around Johan took time to explain to North about how a lot of what Johan does is for the benefit of him. And honestly it's things Johan would tell North if he just asked him. Johan doesn't seem like he wants to keep anything from North but he wants North to want to know. Like while Johan went to Boston and North was missing him so much, but he was too afraid to reach out. He didn't want to disturb Johan he knew he was working. But thanks to their friends, North got to learn that Johan was missing him just as much. Johan even cut his trip short because he didn't want North to be sad from missing him. Since North was still so unwilling to be selfish with him, Johan had to take that initiative to return to him instead.

I love that we get to see North learn that he can ask from Johan and take from him and depend on him and need him. Johan is the king of 'Acts of Service' and I'm glad by the end of things North got to see that. There isn't anything Johan would not do for North.

As North becomes more confident in himself and his feelings and his place by Johan's side we begin to see North willingly show his feelings. He begins to show his concerns for Johan. He wants to help Johan relax and be at ease, even if it means just being in his presence. He begins to show more casual intimacy. More pecks on the cheek, and leaning into Johan, and cuddling with him. He shows a softer side. A cuter side. A more docile side. He seems to be more calm around Johan and more considerate of what he wants from him.

I love when North gives Johan his gear. We all know how monumental that is. He essentially gives Johan the biggest part of himself, his heart. And entrusting his gear to Johan means that he trusts his heart and himself with Johan. He trusts that Johan will take care of his heart. It's a beautiful moment that holds so much weight, especially for someone like Johan who has been waiting for North for years. And I love that we get to see Johan proudly display that gear in a way that says, 'He gave me his heart and I belong to him in return.' The gear is not just an item to keep on a shelf or in a box. It's something he takes with him everywhere like their love for each other. Johan can't just put the gear down. It and North belongs to him now.

In that one scene where Drunk North shows his ownership of Johan, I think that day was like Christmas for Johan. To see his sweet and budding North show such strong possessiveness over him? It must have been so satisfying to experience.

And you can really tell Johan enjoyed it. He kept North's eye contact and he answered him directly and gently, just for North's ears. He didn't even pay attention to that woman. AND WHEN NORTH CLIMBED INTO HIS LAP AND SAID JOHAN WAS HIS?? To be outright claimed? I think Johan could've died and ascended to heaven. Nothing else and no one else mattered in that moment. He was North's and only North's. Oh to be possessed by someone.

I think Johan knew that from then on North would feel more inclined to express his ownership which what he wanted from day one. He wanted them both to feel like they belonged to each other.

I'm sorry this still got long.

[michanvalentine]

Another thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is how some narrative threads introduced in Act 1 find their resolution in the good ending.

The first and most obvious one revolves around the beautiful concept of a gift.

When the player offers their blood to Astarion, he receives a gift that goes beyond mere nourishment. In that moment, what Tav/Durge is giving him, beyond blood, is understanding and trust.

And this concept comes full circle after the ritual, where this narrative thread finds its conclusion. That’s when Spawn Astarion thanks the player for the gift they have given him—gently guiding him by the hand toward a new path where he is truly free.

But not just free. As the vampire spawn himself says in that ending, he is honestly free. And for that gift, he is grateful.

I think that’s absolutely beautiful.

But the meaning runs even deeper than that. This ties into the theme of seeing and being seen—not in a superficial sense.

After all, Astarion’s appearance is both a curse and a shield, something he has learned to wield, just like his mannerisms, his charming words, and the sarcasm he uses as a distraction.

It’s an important concept because it means going beyond the surface, seeing him for who he truly is, feeling him, and experiencing him in his entirety.

Astarion deeply struggles with his condition—not just as a slave, but as a vampire. He’s so happy to be able to act human again thanks to the Illithid tadpole, to do simple, mundane things like crossing running water or entering a house without permission. And let’s not even talk about his joy at standing under the sunlight.

When you meet him on the beach for the first time and reveal what will happen if they don’t get rid of the Illithid tadpoles, Astarion’s bitter reaction, complete with laughter, shows just how much it truly weighs on him: "Of course it’s going to turn me into a monster, what else did I expect?!"

In fact, when his vampiric nature is revealed for the first time during the bite scene, he fears rejection and is quick to emphasize that he’s not some kind of monster. The morning after, when Shadowheart tactlessly points out this aspect of him, his expression changes, and we can see how being perceived as a monster wounds him. It keeps him at a distance, sets him apart as something other. Later, he will even say outright that he wants to be treated like a person—not as a slave, not as a vampire. Just a person. Not superior, not inferior. Exactly like everyone else. Because Astarion wants to be part of the world, to reconnect with people.

This is especially clear when he approves of Tav’s perspective—that he could find a place for himself in the world, where he could be accepted, supported, if he is willing to open up and do the same for others. He approves because the idea appeals to him—it makes him feel like he can belong. Not as a monster, but as a person finding his way back into the world he once inhabited.

But I’m digressing.

The mirror scene isn’t just there by chance—it’s narratively strategic. In that moment, Astarion explicitly asks the player what they see, because he wants to know how the world perceives him. He worries about how others see him precisely because he feels separate, othered, like a monster. And it’s not a matter of appearance—Astarion knows he’s gorgeous. He’s heard it thousands of times over the centuries. But he’s insecure about his place within the group, within society, within the world.

That’s why he appreciates it when Tav/Durge reassures him on the two things that trouble him most—his piercing gaze (the red eyes of a vampire) and his dangerous smile (the sharp fangs of a predator). He relaxes because, in that moment, he feels accepted. Because he realizes his defining traits aren’t the insurmountable barriers he thought they were. Because the person in front of him sees him—not through the lens of prejudice, but for who he really is.

This theme returns later, during the confrontation with Aurelia and Leon, when Astarion deflects the idea of being heroic by saying, "I can’t be what you see in me." Again, the motif of seeing, of looking deeper, of recognizing something more, of reading between the lines—both of the narrative and of his character.

And it’s beautiful when, the morning after the ritual, that relaxed, happy Astarion, with that wonderful smile on his lips, says that Tav/Durge saw something in him. Something different from everyone else. Something beyond his monstrous nature, beyond his darkest intentions, beyond his fear.

Tav/Durge saw him. Saw his potential.

And if you’re in a romantic relationship with him, in the graveyard scene, Astarion will bring up this idea once again. With a heroic Tav/Durge, Astarion feels safe. And he feels seen. Seen, for god’s sake. That’s huge.

This is where this narrative arc—about perception, about seeing him throughout the entire journey—finds its resolution. Astarion is truly more than what Cazador made him to be. He breaks free from the pattern of monster/vampire. He chooses to start living again. To rediscover himself. To reclaim his identity in the most human way possible—through the world and the people around him.

Perhaps his body has not regained its human traits, but spawn Astarion is, without a doubt, the Astarion who has reclaimed his humanity the most.

[luvashli]

LIKE DRIED FLOWERS

Synopsis -> the story about Jay, who reflects on his past love with you and the pain of seeing you move on with someone else.

Pairing -> non!idol!jay x fem!reader

Genre -> oneshot, lovers to exes, angst, heartbreak

Started -> 2/26/2025

Status -> complete

wc -> 1.7k

Note -> This is a really short story inspired by the song "Dried Flowers" by Yuuri, which Jay covered (my fav). The idea came to me while listening to it, and I couldn't help but write something based on the bittersweet emotions it evokes. I hope you enjoyed this little piece, even though it's brief—sometimes the simplest stories capture the most feeling. Thanks for reading!

Jay first saw you on a late autumn afternoon, golden leaves scattered across the pavement as students rushed out of school. He hadn’t been looking for anything—just another normal day, another routine walk home with his headphones in.

But then you appeared, tripping over absolutely nothing on the sidewalk.

His first thought was that you were ridiculously clumsy. His second was that you had the brightest laugh he’d ever heard.

You had been running after a friend, waving dramatically, when your foot caught the edge of a step. Before you could hit the ground, Jay’s reflexes kicked in—his hands reached out, catching you by the wrist.

Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, he forgot to let go.

“Thanks,” you breathed, laughter still lingering in your voice. “I swear, gravity just has a personal vendetta against me.”

Jay scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, sure. Blame gravity.”

You grinned at him, unfazed. “What else am I supposed to blame? My own two feet?”

“Obviously.”

He thought that was the end of it. That you’d just keep running after your friend, and he’d go back to his playlist, pretending you hadn’t just crashed into his life like a whirlwind.

But instead, you stayed.

“You’re Jay, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. How do you know?”

“I sit behind you in literature,” you said, rocking on the balls of your feet. “You always fall asleep when the teacher starts talking about poetry.”

Jay opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no defense.

You laughed again, and he felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.

___

Falling in love with you had been easy.

It started with small things—sharing notes in class, teasing each other in the hallways, walking home together when the sun painted the sky in warm hues. He found himself looking for you without meaning to, found himself waiting for your texts late at night, found himself wanting to know everything about you.

By the time winter rolled around, Jay was in deep.

Even when we had a tiny apartment for us two.

It wasn’t a literal apartment—not yet. But it was the way you made every place feel like home. The empty rooftop where you’d sneak away to eat lunch, the corner of the library where you’d study together, the café you dragged him to every Friday because “the caramel lattes here taste like happiness.”

“Admit it,” you teased one day, leaning over the café table, your hands wrapped around your cup. “You actually like it here.”

Jay rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it.

Because as long as you were there, he liked anywhere.

Before we knew, we found ourselves fighting all the time.

Maybe that’s what happens when two people grow up together.

The arguments started small. You’d get frustrated when he shut down instead of talking. He’d get annoyed when you overthought everything. But back then, fights always ended with one of you laughing first, reaching for the other’s hand like an unspoken apology.

But then graduation came. Reality hit.

You had dreams bigger than this town, and Jay—he didn’t know where he belonged.

“You never talk to me anymore,” you whispered one night, the glow of streetlights casting shadows on your face. “You’re always somewhere else, Jay.”

He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “I just… don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what’s next for me.”

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” you said, voice gentle. “I’m right here.”

But the thing was—Jay had never wanted to hold you back.

He saw the way your eyes lit up when you talked about leaving, about chasing something bigger. And as much as he wanted to be selfish, to ask you to stay—he couldn’t.

So instead, he pulled away first.

Our conversation was one way, yeah, without a doubt.

The day you left, it rained.

___

Maybe I am not the one that you were looking for.

Jay exhales as he stands in the cold, his breath visible in the night air. His fingers clutch the lighter in his pocket, though he never smokes—he just likes having something to fidget with. Across the street, a familiar café glows warmly through the windows, but the sight of it makes his chest tighten.

You used to love that place.

You always said their coffee tasted better because of the way they brewed it with love. Jay used to roll his eyes and call you ridiculous, but he never told you that he started going there alone when you weren’t around, just to see if he could taste what you meant.

Before we knew, we found ourselves fighting all the time.

Jay kicks a stray pebble at his feet, the memory of your last fight playing like a broken record in his head.

The apartment had felt smaller that night, suffocating in a way it never used to. You had stood by the sink, back turned to him, hands trembling as you washed the dishes too harshly. He had sat on the couch, watching, waiting, knowing that whatever words came next would be the final blow.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jay,” you had whispered. Your voice had wavered, but your resolve hadn’t.

He had wanted to argue, to tell you that breaking up was the worst idea you had ever had. But the truth was, you were right.

Maybe we were trying to keep what we cannot afford.

Even when we had that tiny apartment—when love was enough to make up for the lack of space, for the empty fridge, for the late-night ramen runs—it still wasn’t enough to stop what was inevitable.

He wonders if he’ll ever be able to look back and laugh at it all. If you meet again, somewhere along the way, will you smile at him? Or will you pretend you don’t recognize him at all?

Not your voice, not your face, not even your clumsiness.

Jay tells himself he doesn’t miss you, but the empty seat across from him at every café, the untouched side of the bed, the songs he skips on his playlist—they all say otherwise.

He hates that he still types out messages he’ll never send.

He hates that his feet still take him past the places you used to love.

He hates that you are still everywhere, even when he tries so hard to let you go.

Like dried flowers, our colors fade.

Jay pulls the lighter from his pocket, flicking it open and shut absentmindedly. There’s a florist nearby, one you used to drag him to on lazy Sunday afternoons. He turns his head, eyes lingering on the shop window. Without thinking, his feet move toward it.

He buys a small bouquet.

Yellow, red, and blue. The colors you always liked.

Maybe you were not the one that I was looking for.

But that doesn’t mean you weren’t the one he loved.

Breakups and broken hearts are so unbearable.

Jay stands at your apartment door, the bouquet in his hands. He doesn’t even remember how he got here—he just knows he needs to do this.

His knuckles hover over the door.

One knock.

That’s all it would take.

Instead, he crouches down and places the flowers at your doorstep. No note, no explanation. Just a quiet goodbye.

I’ve got flowers that will not wither.

As he walks away, he wonders if you’ll keep them.

If, maybe, you’ll remember him.

Just for a little while longer.

___

Jay was walking down the familiar street when he saw you—just like that, out of nowhere.

He paused mid-step, his heart thudding in his chest. It was you. Standing outside the café, your hair blowing gently in the breeze, laughing at something your companion had said. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he thought the world had paused around him.

You hadn’t seen him yet.

Your companion—a guy Jay didn’t recognize—was standing a little too close. He had his hand on your shoulder, and the way you smiled up at him made Jay’s stomach churn. You looked… different. Happier, maybe, but in a way that Jay couldn’t quite place. He wanted to look away, to turn and leave before you saw him, but he couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot, watching the scene unfold like a silent spectator to his own heartbreak.

You laughed again, and Jay remembered that sound—how it used to fill his ears at the most random moments. That laugh had been the soundtrack to his high school life, to the days they’d spent together, to the tiny apartment they’d shared when things had felt right, when they were everything to each other.

But now, it was someone else who got to hear it.

Maybe you were not the one that I was looking for. Jay thought. But I can’t deny how I feel every time I see you. I can’t let go.

You finally looked up, and your eyes met his. For a second, Jay’s heart stopped.

You smiled—soft, polite, distant. Not the smile you used to give him, the one that made everything feel like home.

“Jay,” you said, your voice a little more neutral than he remembered. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He forced a smile, but it felt brittle. “Yeah, I was just—just walking by.” He cleared his throat, glancing at the guy beside you. The way he stood, close, almost possessive, made something tighten in Jay’s chest.

Your companion extended a hand, stepping forward. “Hey, nice to meet you” he said, his smile warm but almost too rehearsed.

Jay nodded, giving a tight smile in return, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. How long had it been? When did this happen? How had he never noticed you slipping away?

“Well, I should get going,” Jay said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Good to see you.”

You nodded, your smile not fading, but it felt distant. “Take care, Jay.”

He turned away before he could say anything else, before the weight in his chest crushed him further.

Like dried flowers, our colors fade.

But Jay knew this: maybe, just maybe, someday he’d be able to fade away too.

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[distant-velleity]

lmao for the record this is not very... coherent or well-paced but-- it definitely exists so 🙂 yeah!!!

yuhua's book 7 dream in tgtwst (before he gets sent to silver's dream by the System)

(warning for floyu crumbs; explanation of the dream in the tags)

~

“You’re saying Azul wanted to see me?” Yuhua asks for what must be the second time now. He follows Chrysos along the oft-walked path to the Hall of Mirrors, adjusting his winter coat to better shield him from the January chill.

Thankfully, Chrysos has the miraculous patience of a saint, at least when it comes to him. “Yes. Truly, it’s an urgent matter; both he and I agree on that.” 

They enter the hall and take a soft right veer into the alcove for the Octavinelle mirror.

“Of course,” Chrysos says, right before they enter, “if it helps, Floyd is rather insistent that you come as well.”

Something strange flutters in Yuhua’s chest, the beginning traces of a feeling he can’t allow himself to feel. He silently stamps it down, though he can’t stop himself from smiling regardless. “Really, now?”

“And there it is.” Knowingly, the corners of Chrysos’ mouth quirk up in a faint smirk. He gestures towards the mirror invitingly. “Go ahead. You know the route to the Mostro Lounge.”

“Right.”

Yuhua steps through the mirror and experiences the usual weightlessness for the briefest of seconds. His foot finds solid ground again on pale lilac tiling, the reflections of the water from above warped over his shoes. Having walked this route countless times now, it’s through muscle memory that he follows the path to the Mostro Lounge; Chrysos isn’t far behind him.

“Ah, wait—” Yuhua looks behind at Chrysos before he opens the door. “...is it locked? Or—”

Chrysos shrugs one shoulder, a non-answer. “It’s unlocked right now, I can assure you.”

“Really? Okay.”

Yuhua grabs the handle and pulls the door open to see utter darkness inside. He blinks, wondering if it’s merely the effect of his eyes adjusting to the light, but no—only the lights from within the tanks are on, and those do little to make the interior any more visible.

Skepticism sinks into his chest. “Chrysos, are you sure—”

“SURPRISE!” shout a pair—no, a chorus of familiar voices. A burst of magic, a showy effect of harmless sparkles, erupts before Yuhua as the Lounge is once again illuminated. Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, and Santiago are right there by the door, their eyes bright.

“Happy birthday, Yu,” Deuce says first, a sincere smile on his face. 

“Ya didn’t think we forgot, now did ya?” asks Epel. He partially covers his good-humored laughter at Yuhua’s face with a fist. 

Jack crosses his arms and looks at the others. “...C’mon, guys. Give him some room.”

Indeed, Yuhua needs it—he can’t quite believe his eyes. Looking past the first-years, he can see the Lounge decorated, not too flamboyantly but not too modestly; he also spots other familiar students gathered around, watching the door or sitting at tables and chatting among themselves.

“I—I…” 

His grasp on the door handle grows weak; Chrysos takes it and makes sure he doesn’t make a fool of himself by letting the door crash straight into him.

“...This is for… me?” Yuhua finally wonders aloud.

Ace snorts at that and shoves a bundle of clothing into his arms. “Who else? I don’t know any other January 27th birthday boys at this school.”

“Um—but I never told you guys my—” 

“Don’t underestimate our combined deductive abilities.” Santiago winks at him, dangling a bolo-style tie around his finger for a second before handing it to Yuhua. “We figured it out just in time.”

“Together? Don’t you guys hate each oth—”

“We’ve learned how to put aside our differences sometimes,” Chrysos assures him, though judging by Ace’s stink-eye, it seems to be a one-time occurrence and nothing better. “And we decided to hold it here at the Lounge as a compromise.”

“But, I…” Yuhua’s mouth remains open even as he falls silent, trying to form questions he doesn’t quite know how to vocalize. “...I… Is this really okay… The Lounge, I mean, and my birthday…”

He doesn’t know quite what he’s feeling, just that the feeling is so immense it stops him from forming coherent sentences. 

“Who else decides if it’s okay or not?” At the imminent approach of a very familiar and very welcome sophomore trio, the first-years scatter like minnows. Floyd easily snakes a hand behind him to place on Yuhua’s opposite shoulder and walks him in. “C’mon, it’s your birthday, li’l Koi! A day just for you!”

“Surely, someone else was—”

“My, my.” Jade hides an amused smile behind a delicate gloved hand. “Are you just going to tell all of these people to go back to their dorms after they’ve already arrived?”

“Come on, now,” Azul agrees. “We were even able to coordinate such a well-timed surprise.”

“Well—” Yuhua sputters, flustered. He hugs the clothes to his chest. There’s a million arguments for his case, but just as many against it. “This is all really impressive, yeah—”

“So there we got it!” exclaims Floyd. “It’s your birthday, and we’re gonna celebrate it. Now, are ya gonna go get changed or what?”

Happiness. Like a soap bubble popping, Yuhua comes to the realization when he looks at Floyd’s infectious smile and feels the warmth surrounding him. This overwhelming, confusing, dizzying feeling—is happiness.

“I…” What is he waiting around for? If everyone’s already gathered… Like a fool, Yuhua laughs at himself sheepishly. “Yeah. Just wait for me a sec, I’ll borrow one of the bathrooms.”

…

“Hold still,” Vil demands, stopping Yuhua as soon as he steps out of the bathroom.

“I—Huh?”

Yuhua stays frozen in his tracks as Vil steps around to stand behind him. Rook takes Vil’s initial place as the housewarden sets to work on Yuhua’s hair.

“Bonjour, monsieur,” Rook sing-songs. 

“Hi, Rook,” answers Yuhua. “Are you also here for—?”

“The celebration? Why, of course~” With a flourish, Rook bends into a bow and extends an open palm forward. “May you have a very happy birthday on this fine day.”

“Don’t distract him while I’m doing his hair, Rook,” Vil says curtly.

“But of course, my Roi de Poison.” Still, Rook smiles at Yuhua in his poetically pleasant, friendly way.

Finally, Vil steps back to appreciate his work. Yuhua, after awaiting the approval of a quick “Go ahead,” gently feels at the braid his hair has been done into.

“Wow, I…” Yuhua turns around. “Thank you, Vil. You didn’t have to.”

“Mm, is that so?” Vil lets out something of an almost-content hum, as usual. “I couldn’t have the birthday boy walking around with his hair the same as his day-to-day look.”

“Your beauty has only been enhanced, monsieur,” Rook declares. “Now, shall we return to the party?”

“They’re all waiting on you,” adds Vil.

“Ah—” 

They’re waiting on him. They actually want him there.

Yuhua nods slowly. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They leave the side hallway to return to the Lounge. Almost immediately, Yuhua catches sight of a certain redhead waving madly at him from one of the tables. It seems like Ace has fervently and insistently claimed himself a spot at the table with the cake, alongside others like Floyd, Deuce, and Chrysos.

“Over here, over here!” calls Ace, earning himself a simultaneous flick to the forehead from Chrysos and a punch in the arm from Deuce. “Ow!”

“Yelling isn’t going to make me get there any faster,” Yuhua retorts, though he’s still laughing when he squeezes in to sit between Ace and Floyd. “I bet you just wanna eat the cake already.”

“You’re pretty greedy, Crabby,” agrees Floyd, just to get a jab in at the first-year.

“Hmph.” Ace grins mischievously, neither confirming nor denying. “Maybe I just wanna know what the birthday boy’s gonna wish for.”

The candles on the cake flicker. It’s just a birthday wish, and it doesn’t mean much. Not much is riding on it.

“I don’t really—” Yuhua pauses, and then huffs a laugh. “Yeah, like I’d tell you. That ruins the whole point.”

“Aww,” whines Ace, batting his eyelashes. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, you dork.”

“What about me?” ventures Floyd, a shit-eating smile on his face.

“Come on.” Yuhua rolls his eyes affectionately. “It’s supposed to be a secret. That means I don’t tell you guys until it comes true. And it’s not that big of a deal anyway—I bet you can guess what it is pretty easily.”

That seems to appease them into staying silent, each thinking about what it could be.

…Again, it’s a wish that doesn’t mean much. With nothing too big to relegate to a birthday wish but nothing memorable enough to immediately ask for, Yuhua more or less has to make it up on the spot. He takes a deep breath before he silently thinks—

I hope I can celebrate my birthday like this again in the future.

—and blows out all the candles in one clean exhale. 

Ace whoops, and somewhere in the Lounge the sound is repeated. Cheers and clapping, from the people celebrating for the sake of it  and the people who want food, echo through the room. “Alright! Now the party’s really begun!”

“I want the first slice of cake!” Floyd insists abruptly.

“No way. It’s mine!”

“Huuuuh?”

“Hey, you two, don’t fight in the middle of Yuhua’s party—!”

Chrysos leans over the table to Yuhua while the other two bicker and Deuce tries to play mediator. “You’re giving it to me, obviously. Right?”

Yuhua sighs, meant to sound long-suffering but instead reflecting his muffled giddiness. “You guys…”

…

Once the food is eaten and the gifts are given, Yuhua finds himself sitting on a stool by the counter while the others mingle among themselves. 

He isn’t mad that he’s seemingly being neglected, no—because he isn’t. People are still checking in on him: Jamil, stopping by to offer him a hair clip; Idia being nudged by Ortho to make Yuhua aware of his attendance (haha); Riddle personally wishing him a happy birthday before being accidentally warded off by Floyd; so on and so forth.

And people are gathered here because of him. They’re all getting along, making merry because of him, in a way. It feels nice, to see everyone not at each other’s throats for once—to see Azul and Leona talking civilly, to see Sebek and the other freshmen having an eating competition… To have people still asking him if he wants to try this food or play this game with them, and knowing that he can just join in whenever he feels back up to it.

This happiness, that knowledge—they form a pool of warmth in his heart, a pool running so deep that Yuhua thinks he might burst if he does anything other than sit. He’s happy to be here, happy to be a part of the celebrations; so happy to be acknowledged as something important to people. Happy to be more than a thought that fades away once the moment has passed.

He’s happy to belong.

Are you really happy? asks a voice in his head—

“Hey, li’l Koi!” Floyd shouts from a table. “Wanna play a game with us?”

—The easy, obvious answer is an unhesitant yes.

Yuhua smiles and nods his answer. A fluttery, bubbly feeling in his heart fills his veins with excitement as he stands up—

The world spins; his vision swims. His foot doesn’t meet the floor, his stomach sinks, and suddenly he’s falling with all the weightlessness of a dreamer being awakened.

~

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @casp1an-sea @nahelenia

@skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @scint1llat3 @nyx-of-night @nemisisnemi

@sillyslipperybananapeel @beneathsakurashade @kathxrat-01 @lumdays @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

@taruruchi

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader (2)

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. arranged marriage au. sylus as your sweet and doting husband who's simply in love with you and anything that you do. 1.5k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ thank you for everyone's patience who requested a part two!! I truly hope this meets your expectations <3

part one here. ꒱

⭒ You’re an early bird married to a night owl. After gradually moving your belongings into Sylus’ master bedroom, your different sleeping schedules were made acutely aware. His day is just beginning when you’re heading to bed and he’s more or less mentally retired after a long night of business dealings and meetings when your body decidedly rises with the first rays of light at dawn. Because of this, you both compromise to meet somewhere in the middle—Sylus sweetly tucks you in later than your usual bedtime and leaves only when you’d fallen asleep, and you snuggle with him in the mornings until the very last minute and you’re forced to get ready for the working day. However, his sleeping patterns are more on the irregular side and he’ll check in on you when he’s supposed to be resting.

⭒ When Luke and Kieran witness you and Sylus bid each other with a goodbye kiss—an affectionate and wholesome display between lovers as your husband sees you off to work at the front door, they are stunned and lose it from the sidelines at the budding romance. “Wait, what just happened?” “Was there a development while we were gone?” The crow twins would share glances and decipher the scene before them together. They both have been rooting for you and their boss since day one, and they marvel at the way you both are completely smitten with each other. As though you two are like newlyweds who can't get enough of your shared love, unwilling to separate just yet even as you slowly step away from Sylus.

⭒ His touch linger with purpose to hold onto every last part of you and his hands move from your waist and slide down your arms to hold your hands until his fingers curl slightly and mourn the loss of your warmth when he eventually has to let you go. When Sylus watches your figure disappear and return back inside his home he receives a thumbs up and pending double high fives respectively from his two henchmen. He walks past them and ignores their antics by giving them orders, but Luke doesn’t leave his brother hanging and celebrates that their boss is officially and undeniably in love.

⭒ Anniversaries were an unexpected thing to celebrate with Sylus—along with holidays and birthdays. You were caught by surprise when you received a gorgeous dress and pearls inside a pretty wrapped box adorned with ribbons after being married to Sylus for three months. You weren’t quite romantically involved with him at that point and went along with what he planned for the evening, and you had a feeling it wasn’t just a performance for the public at an upscale restaurant but he genuinely wanted to make this night special for you. Then something in the air shifted and became sweeter and you suppose you wanted to start making the smaller things in life count. Even if there wasn’t a particular milestone coming up, you decide to make one up yourself. After all, there’s a true saying that the secret to marriage is keeping it fresh and interesting.

⭒ With the help of the cute twins, they set up a cozy tent in the verdant space of the garden meanwhile you decorate fairy lights all around in swooping arcs and tight lines, arrange pillows and blankets inside, and place a deck of kitty cards in the center. After everything is where you need it to be, you show the boys your gratitude and send them away as you work on the finishing touches. You gather the plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and two glasses for the red wine when suddenly your husband sneaks up from behind you and wrap himself around you, inquiring about how the twins wanted him to come find you… Oh those cheeky little things. Well, never mind them. “Don’t tell me that you forgot what today is. Happy 300 days since our first kiss, baby.” You admit that it may come off as a little silly and no one’s truly keeping count, but you simply wanted to do something nice for him.

⭒ Sylus never passes up an opportunity to take care of his darling wife. Even if that means going along with your unusual ideas like you suggesting to borrow his dress shoes after the auction show was over. He throws you a puzzled look followed by a bemuse chuckle, and he supposes he could oblige if that’s what you really wanted. You explain to him that being well dressed from head to toe to match his outfit came at the price of your painfully, aching feet. And he can’t resist giving into your demands when you ask with such adorable little pouts. There are more practical methods to go about the situation, but he certainly loves humoring you even if things don't work out the way you thought they would.

⭒ Sylus leads you to a nearby bench and gestures for you to have a seat while he removes his shoes and bends down on one knee before you, unworried about dirtying his expensive trousers. He works diligently to undo the straps around your ankles and place your heels aside to focus on slipping his shoes onto your feet. “Well, you look quite fetching in my shoes. Now shall we continue our walk or do you have any more requests to make?” He helps you straighten yourself as he returns to his normal height. You huff and make a discontent noise when you almost trip over your own two feet trying to take a step forward in your (his) much too large and too spacious shoes. “Actually, these won’t do. I changed my mind, I want my heels back.”

⭒ Sylus chuckles at your hopeless attempt, his hand going on your hip to keep you from toppling over and accidentally hurting yourself. “Ah, it appears my shoes are too big for you, kitten. You say you want your heels back, hm?” He kneels before you once more as he retrieves your pair of heels, his fingers brushing along the underside of your leg and he carefully tugs them back on your feet. He gives your ankle a gentle squeeze as he finishes securing the straps, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. "There, I hope you're satisfied now, my sweet wife." His arm then goes around your waist and he effortlessly lifts you off the ground without so much as a warning. He smirks at your precious reaction, your body flushed against his meanwhile your arms encircle his neck for balance. “Why don’t I just carry you the rest of the way instead?”

⭒ You’re snuggled up against Sylus’ chest as you bring a concern to his attention one night. “What happens when our arrangement comes to an end?” The main reason you agreed to marry him in the first place is because it was a contract marriage with a specific time frame of five years that you’d have to spend with him. And you realize that with everything he does, he’s always been considerate of you as a whole even with how he drafted this contract knowing that it could end at his own expense. He provided you with a means of freeing yourself from him if you for whatever reason wished to no longer continue your marriage with him after the term ends. The choice is left entirely up to you because he never wanted you to feel trapped but he won’t make it easy for you. “If I decided to leave, you’d really let me go?”

⭒ Sylus hesitates for a moment, his gaze fixed on you and he seems to be thinking about something as his expression grows serious. “You always know how to ask the tough questions, don’t you sweetie?” After a moment, he lets out a small sigh and nods. “…Yes. Technically, you’ll be free to go. I won’t stop you if you truly want to leave.” Another sigh escapes him, yet his voice remains soft and sincere and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and his palm cradles your cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to stay. What do you want to happen when the contract ends, darling?”

⭒ You mull over your thoughts, teasing him with a pensive look as you purposely drag on the seconds. “Since you’re leaving it up to me, I think… I want to renew our vows at the five-year mark. How’s that sound?” A surprise and slight disbelief flit across his face at the same moment his countenance softens at your affirmation. “You want to renew our vows?” You offer him a demure nod with your sweet smile and he gently takes your hand in his, bringing it to his face and laying a kiss against your knuckles. “Then it’s settled. I would be honored to renew our vows when the time comes. There will be no more contracts or strings attached. We’ll be bound by our love and our love only.”

[julymusings]

PORTRAIT

jason hates taking photos. it's a shame you find him so beautiful.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. Standing there with a fake smile, posing for a deceptively happy vignette of an unhappy reality feels awkward. He never knows what to do with his hands. He doesn’t like the way his face translates through the lens; the green of his eyes glows just this side of too spectral, his broad, stocky frame towers over that of his siblings, and the scars on his face bring memories of a darker time, an intentional carelessness for his life he used to carry. He leans away when others huddle together to smile. Pretends to notice something behind him when caught in the background of the lens.

Enter you. Only capable of looking at him with hearts in your eyes. Serving on a silver platter what he used to starve and scavenge for in dimly lit bars on the lips of women who only saw him as something to sink their teeth into and then spit out, never sticking around for longer than one night. Jason feasted at first, he’ll admit, stuffing himself to sickness on your unconditional adoration until it was almost too much to bear.

You take pictures of him and gush over them, telling him how pretty he is. How he belongs in a museum. He never believed you, never bothering to actually look at the pictures you take. But pretty soon he’s everywhere; you set him as your lock screen and screensaver, and print photos to frame on your bedside table. When your storage is maxed out, you steal Jason’s phone to flood his camera roll, and he finds that he keeps going back to stare at the photos you take. Selfies where you kiss his cheek and his mouth curves upward just enough to transform him from brooding to disarming; portraits where he looks, not at the camera, but just beyond and his eyes crinkle, the tips of his sharp canines peeking out over his bottom lip. He looks…different. Better. He starts to believe the things you tell him; his beauty is ancient. Michelangelo himself carved the contours of his body. The Trojans and the Greeks fought for a decade over him.

But what is it about this camera, he wonders, that makes his appearance digestible? Is it the way you frame him front and center, the backlighting sun rays extending in all directions behind him, encircling him with a holiness he doesn’t deserve? The scenery against which you capture him, busy nighttime streets under city lights, just dark enough to smooth out his rough edges? 

Or maybe it’s just you. Seeing himself from your point of view. Seeing himself as yours. His hooked nose, crooked from being broken one too many times, belongs to you for the early mornings when you trace down the bridge, around his lips, and up his jaw, drawing a portrait with your fingertips. His unruly hair, with streaks of white that make him stick out like a sore thumb, exists only for you to run your fingers through when he lays his head in your lap. His scars are for you to kiss on those difficult days until he can bear to look in the mirror again. He wants nothing more than to be a museum of all things you.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. But when you ask so nicely, showering him with compliments and promises of thank-you-kisses later on, how can he say no?

why are we as a society still striving for more definition and higher quality photos for anything other than, like, x-ray imaging and space exploration. I don't want 8k ultra-max hd in my phone that highlights every hair and pore and eye bag i want grainy and dark and fuzzy because it makes me look hotter and that's a fact. rant over

anyway he's so pretty i wanna take candids of him and kiss his face and squeeze his huge ti-*GUNSHOTS*

this is gonna be my last post for the next few weeks because i have finals. see you on the other side🫡 (born to be a farmer on a remote island, forced to study STEM) i'll be on requests as soon as i'm back trust

[prisjean]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ caleb x reader

synopsis: after suddenly arriving to a place you have never been before, abruptly a familiar figure appears in front of you. it's caleb.. but isn't he dead? what's going on? left with unanswered questions from a new caleb, you break the news that you wish to go home.. but someone doesn't let you leave..

tw: smut, MDNI +18, cream pie, sex on the desk!!, unprotected sex (pls use protection), caleb isn't letting you cum till he says so 0.<, fingering, love bites, fast but long plot before getting smut?, long smut (idk how to write smut help) you and him couldn't deny each other, he fucks you in his uniform (sorry uniforms is a turn off), slight aftercare??, caleb's arms mentioned hehe

wc: 2.2k

a/n: first smut ive ever written >:) as much as i love the sweet caleb we used to have, i also love the new possessive caleb we're getting! happy reading!

caleb’s office was a ideal display of order. everything had a place, a name, and date. he was sat at his desk, focused, his jaw tense as he worked through another report. The faint hum of the ship's engines was the only sound in the room. you had no idea how you ended up with caleb, he was just pronounced dead and now he's back with a change of character.

you stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him in silence. he was back but things were different now.

somehow he returned with a different air about him. he’d been through something, something you couldn’t even begin to piece together. the walls he’d built around himself were unbreakable, but above that, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

“staring won’t get you anywhere, pipsqueak,” caleb said without looking up from his paperwork, he grins to himself.

you huffed, now walking into his office. “why do you keep calling me that?” you said, slightly annoyed.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and steady, but the grin never hesitated. “because no matter how much you try to act tough, i’ll always see you as someone who needs looking after,” he teased, his voice warm and low, savoring the effect it had on you.

a flush spread across your face, but you quickly masked it with a roll of your eyes. “...you’re crazy.”

“and you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he replied smoothly with a smirk, shifting in his chair as he focused on his work once more.

your mind swirls as you get close to him and his desk. the urge to be near him was undeniable, but the words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. then finally, you cleared your throat.

“...i want to leave.”

the words fill the air, caleb finally places his pen down as he raises his gaze, his face stern.

“leave?” he asked, his tone darker now.

“yeah..” you replied, taking a small step forward. “i-i think i need some time to process all this. i think we need time apart before we talk about every-”

he listens but then cuts you off. “no.” he said, sternly.

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden cutoff. “no? that’s it? just ‘no’?”

“that’s all you’re getting, pipsqueak” he said, now standing up and walking around the desk, closing the distance between you two. he was close now, he was practically hovering over you, his uniform feeding an undeniable aura. “you’re not leaving. you belong here, with me.”

you pout to tease, taking a step back as if trying to put some distance between the two of you, but he catches and fills the space. “you can’t just decide that for me.”

“i’m not deciding,” he replied, his voice softer now, yet filled with a calm authority. “i’m reminding you. you have me and i’m not going to let you walk away from that.”

a part of you wanted to argue, to push back harder, but another part, the part that had always known this man in front of you, found him irresistible.

you cleared your throat, trying to be stable. “well..aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” you said, having teasing smile. “all this positivity is blinding.”

caleb’s lips quirked into a small, knowing grin. “you don’t seem too upset about it.”

“maybe cause i’m just used to you,” you shot back, stepping closer until you were mere inches from him, your breath mingling in the air between you. “though i do think you could use a little loosening up.”

his eyes darkened as he stared down at you, the playful challenge evident in his gaze. “oh?”

“yes,” your smile widens, feeling the familiar tension between you spark to life. “maybe it’s time i show you what happens when you’re not in control for once.” you tease again. you didn't know if you were teasing caleb just because you wanted to leave or because you couldn't deny him.

his expression didn’t change, if anything, it only deepened, a flicker of desire in his eyes as he still hovered you even while standing.

“pipsqueak.” he murmured, his voice a quiet growl as his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers pressing into your sides with just enough force to make you gasp.

“yes..caleb?” you teased, your heart racing as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

without another word, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both commanding and tender. his hands slid down to lift you up. you let out a soft gasp as he cleared the desk in a single movement. papers scattered to the floor in a careless motion, already forgotten.

he set you on his desk, his body close as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re not leaving,” he whispered, his voice low and full of meaning.

you lock eyes with him, panting. “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

“..and you love it,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours once more, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed to the buttons of your blouse.

his eyes look up at yours, his fingers gliding over the buttons of your blouse once more. "is this okay?" he asks, in a tone that reminded you of the caring caleb you once knew and learned to love for so long.

you nod, letting a slight flush roam your cheeks as he unbuttons your shirt. his eyes glances over each button being loose, his yearning and desires seeping through his expressions. in a shift motion, he brushes your blouse off your shoulders, leaving you with just a bra. caleb leans himself to plant tender kisses on your neck, leaning down towards your collarbone. the way he kissed your body was soft and loving. you really believe the old caleb is still in there.

as caleb continues to switch kissing your neck and your collarbone, he unclasps your bra, taking it off gently. he looks at your buds before taking one in his mouth and plays with the other, leaving you drown in ecstasy. caleb leads his lips a little above your swollen bud to suck and bite, leaving a red mark. he enjoyed the gasp you let out so he continues to leave more marks of his on both breasts, leaving you in a whimpering mess.

"mm.. caleb..", you wince.

he pauses, "mmh..i can't stop" he pants. "i need you now" he purred. you cup his cheeks, flushing at this point.

"then show me.." you cooed. he takes you up on that offer and steadily takes off the hem on your pants. he continues to slide down your pants and then your panties, throwing them to the side. you looks up and down at you, taking in every sight. "you're so beautiful.." he says. he continues his mission as he drags his hand down to your bare slit, never losing eye contact.

"fuck princess.. i barely touched you and you're already so wet" he teased with a grin. you squirm under his touch and felt his finger skim through your pussy lips, enjoying the wetness before rolling circles on your clit. you continue to squirm under his touch. you had used your arms to support your body on his desk but now he was practically plowing two fingers into you, all his touching led you lose balance so you decided to hold onto caleb's arms, feeling the fabric of his uniform. you kept moaning under his fingers while smelling his rich cologne. you missed that smell.

caleb continues to move his fingers against your walls, you clench him each time he moves himself up. his gaze softens, looking up at you. "you okay, princess?" he lowly says. your head and hands dig into his chest and muscles but you manage to whisper. "yes... please keep going caleb..". he nods and continues working his fingers, now not missing to aim your sweet spot. you throw your head back and your moans fill the air in his office as you slowly start to arrive your peak. at this point, you grind your hips, helping his fingers push into you more.

he captures your lips again in a sloppy kiss, his breath hitching and smooching noises echo the room after. he pulls away, "ugh..god, princess..." he groans. "mm not yet.." he teases, gaining his composure. "i'm not letting you cum yet" a devilish smirk appears in his face. he gently pulls his fingers out, leaving a low pop sound. he unbuckles his belt and unzips, freeing his erected cock. his tip already seeping with precum.

you lean your pelvis forward, you want him to take you already. you wanted to cum already. he pulls your legs to wrap around his waist, then grabs his heavy cock, making it hover over your wet begging cunt. he continues his teasing when he gives your erected clit taps.

"caleb...please" you pleaded him. letting him feel so in control. one of his secret fantasies was him taking power over you and to hear you beg him to fuck you. now he has his fantasy fulfilled.

you wiggle your hips, panting. "alright alright" he chuckles. " you've been such a good girl, taking my fingers. i guess ill give you what you want." he gently pushes his cock in, using your wetness as lubricant. you and him share a gasp at first contact.

"fuck.." he cries out. "you're so tight, princess" his hand continues to hold your waist while his other grips the edge of his desk, drowning himself in you. this was better than what he has envisioned. he leans down on your shoulder, pumping himself in and out of you. he could barely handle himself in front of the woman he's loved for his whole life. you arch your back, legs trembling at how big he was.

"oh caleb... caleb..." you continue to purr his name in his ears. hearing you gave him every right to continue pounding faster inside you, drowning himself in the wetness of your walls, also letting his cock give your cervix kisses.

"c-cum for me... on me..", he grunts, his voice hitching and his forehead showing a sweat. after a while, you felt yourself approaching. "caleb..m'im cumming..", with that announcement, your body tenses up as you cream on him, whimpering after every drop.

caleb sighs heavy at your ecstasy, enjoying every bit. this turns him on as he fastens his pace, almost near his end aswell. it wasn't long after till he also made his own announcement. “i-i’m gonna come,” caleb muttered, eyes squeezed shut, his pants getting heavy. now his grip on your hip and his desk hardens as he releases himself inside of your cunt, his thighs shook, his eyes rolled back in their sockets. he wanted to groan out his orgasm, but he suddenly remembered where they were, so he bit down on your shoulder, moaning quietly as he pulled out of your beautiful filled up pussy, spilling his some of his cum all over the tile floor.

He stood with his dick in his hand before zipping himself back up, trying to contain his composure, panting heavily, eyelids fluttering.

the air became still again, the quiet hum of the ship’s engines in the distance, a constant reminder of the void beyond these walls. caleb leaned forward, his forehead brushing against yours as you both caught your breath. his hands, once with a hard grip, now rested gently on your waist, his thumbs traced soothing circles over your skin.

as he lets you take a breath, caleb leaned back, his purple pinkish eyes scanning your face with a tenderness that left you breathless in an entirely different way. he unzips his uniform jacket, his movements deliberate and careful. “here,” he murmured, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, giving you comforting look while covering you as much as he can. his jacket still lingered of his smell, something grounding and uniquely caleb. his fingers lingered at the edges, brushing lightly against your skin.

you looked up at him, your gaze softens and your body and heart still vulnerable. his eyes held a depth you hadn’t seen before, like he was memorizing every part of you, committing to never forget this eternal moment.

he leans down to press a delicate kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for longer than necessary. when he pulled back, his voice was low and steady.

“you’re my everything,” he said softly, his hand caresses your cheek. “more than I deserve, more than I ever thought i’d have.”

your throat tightened, a lump forming as his words settled over you. you could a flush coming onto your cheeks once more.

he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “i’ll explain everything soon. you deserve that, at the very least. but for now…” he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “just know i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch as tears pricked your eyes, the emotion of the moment nearly overwhelming. caleb held you close, his arms wrapping around you as he whispered one final reassurance.

“you’re safe with me. always.”

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Diasomnia

Go here for other dorms

Malleus Draconia

When you hand Malleus the box of chocolates, he takes it carefully, his touch delicate, reverent. His emerald eyes flicker between you and the gift, his expression curious.

“…What is the occasion?” he asks, tilting his head ever so slightly.

You blink. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

His brow furrows in thought. “Ah… I have read about this custom. A day where humans exchange tokens of affection.” His gaze settles back on you, warm and searching. “And you are giving this to me?”

You inhale, steadying yourself before you say it—before you make it real.

“Yes,” you say, voice firm but soft. “Because I like you, Malleus.”

For a moment, he just looks at you.

And then—he lights up.

Not just in surprise, not just in happiness, but in something deeper, something radiant. His pupils dilate, his lips parting slightly as he processes the words, and then—his entire expression softens into something breathtaking.

“You…” He exhales, almost in wonder, as if he is memorizing this moment, etching it into eternity.

His grip on the chocolates tightens just slightly, like he’s holding something precious.

“…Then I must thank you,” he says at last, his voice so tender it nearly steals your breath. “For this gift. And for your feelings.”

He steps closer, his presence impossibly warm despite the cool night air. “Because I return them.”

Your heart stumbles. “You do?”

Malleus smiles, and it is gentle, certain—undeniably his.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “And if you will allow it… I would like to be your partner.”

The word settles over you like it belongs there—like it has always belonged there.

And how could you say anything but yes?

“I’d love that,” you whisper.

His smile deepens, something ancient and endless and full of warmth. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with a quiet certainty.

As you begin to walk together—his grip steady, unwavering, real—it feels so easy, so natural.

Like this was always meant to be.

Lilia Vanrouge

When you walk up to Lilia, he’s already watching you with knowing amusement, arms crossed, eyes twinkling like he’s been expecting this all along.

“Ah, I see, I see~” he hums, grinning before you even say a word. “Here comes my beastie with something important to say.”

Your steps slow. You narrow your eyes. “You already know?”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, I had my suspicions. But don’t let that stop you. Go on, I’ll pretend to be surprised.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping now. You take a breath and hold out the chocolates. “These are for you, Lilia. Because I like you.”

For a second, Lilia softens. It’s quick—a flicker of something warm and genuine—before he’s grinning again, sharp and playful.

“And here I thought you’d never confess!” He places a dramatic hand over his chest. “Making an old man wait for so long… how cruel!”

You snort. “Lilia, please. You don’t even look a day over twenty.”

He winks. “Why, thank you. I do try.”

You shake your head, exasperated but fond. “So? What do you say?”

Lilia’s grin softens just slightly. “Well, I say you’ve made a very bold choice, my dear.” He takes the chocolates, cradling them like a prized treasure. “And I accept, of course.”

Your stomach flutters.

Then—Lilia claps his hands together. “Well! We must celebrate! How about a homemade meal, cooked just for you?”

Your entire soul leaves your body.

“Lilia, wait—” You hold up both hands, alarmed. “We can save that for another day.”

He blinks, tilting his head innocently. “Oh? You don’t want to try my cooking?”

You scramble to save yourself. “No! I mean—yes! Just—not today! I want to, uh… savor the moment. Yeah.”

Lilia watches you far too knowingly, but after a beat, he laughs. “Fair enough! You drive a hard bargain, my dear.”

Then—with all the ease in the world—he reaches out, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to your fingers.

“Well then,” he muses, looking up at you with mischief and something warmer. “Shall we go on our date?”

Your face burns. “Y-Yeah. Let’s go.”

And as he pulls you along, chuckling to himself, you can’t help but think—

You’re in for quite the adventure.

Silver

Silver is fast asleep under a tree, looking so peaceful that you almost feel guilty waking him.

Almost.

Because one, you’re here to confess, and two… is that a squirrel braiding his hair?

You pause. Stare. The squirrel, completely unbothered, continues its work, its tiny paws weaving strands of silver like it’s done this a thousand times before.

…Never mind.

Shaking off your distraction, you step closer and crouch beside him. “Silver,” you call softly.

He stirs, blinking slowly as he wakes. And then he sees you.

His lips curl into a small, sleepy smile. “Oh,” he murmurs, voice still soft with drowsiness. “It’s you.”

Your stomach does a very unnecessary flip.

You exhale, steeling yourself. “I made these for you,” you say, holding out the chocolates. “Because it’s Valentine’s. And because I like you.”

Silver blinks. Once. Twice. His eyes focus a little sharper as he processes your words. Then, slowly, he pushes himself upright, his gaze never leaving yours.

“…You like me?” he asks, his tone gentle, careful.

You nod, heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah. I do.”

For a moment, he just looks at you.

Then—softly, warmly—he smiles.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice so sincere it makes your heart ache. “I… like you too.”

Before you can even react, he reaches for your hand, lifting it carefully. His fingers are steady, warm, reverent as he brings it to his lips—and presses the softest kiss against your knuckles.

The gesture is so simple, so sweet, so utterly Silver. There’s no teasing, no dramatics—just quiet, unwavering affection.

When he pulls back, his thumb lingers just slightly over your fingers. “Would you like to take a walk with me?” he asks, his expression soft.

Your chest feels too full. You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

He stands, still holding your hand, his grip secure and warm.

The squirrel, now done with its masterpiece, chatters approvingly before scurrying off.

Neither of you even acknowledge it. Because right now—nothing else matters.

Sebek is not prepared.

Not for the chocolates. Not for your confession. Not for any of it.

One second, he’s standing tall, proud as ever, probably ready to launch into a speech about how he has no time for frivolous human customs.

And the next?

The usual loud, booming Sebek disappears.

Gone. Vanished. Launched into the stratosphere.

All that remains is a wide-eyed, speechless mess, his mouth opening and closing with nothing but a choked squeak escaping.

You wait, patiently.

Still, nothing.

“…Sebek?” you ask, biting back a smile.

He suddenly snaps upright, as if forcibly rebooting. “I—I—” His voice cracks spectacularly, and his face erupts into color, bright red from the tips of his ears down to his neck.

And then, as if his body is moving before his brain can keep up, he takes your hand in both of his own, bows his head, and presses the most reverent, careful kiss to the back of it.

Your breath catches.

When he looks back up, his usual intensity is still there—but this time, it’s softer. Warmer.

“I—I accept!” he declares, his grip strong, steady, firm. “I—I—I have long admired you as well! I—” He swallows hard, visibly overwhelmed. “I like you, too.”

Your heart melts.

Still smiling, you squeeze his hands lightly. “Then, will you be my boyfriend?”

Sebek freezes again.

His entire body tenses. His pupils dilate. You watch in real-time as his soul leaves his body, fights its way back, and then leaves again.

“I—” he tries, voice cracking once more. He clears his throat so aggressively that you’re almost worried for him.

Then, finally, finally, he nods, jerky but determined.

“Yes!” he exclaims, as if accepting the most sacred of oaths. “Yes, of course! I shall devote myself to you with all the strength and loyalty I possess!”

You can’t help it. You laugh.

Sebek, red-faced and flustered beyond belief, holds your hand even tighter, as if making sure you don’t disappear.

And honestly? You wouldn’t dream of it.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[dollfacefantasy]

BIRTHDAY GIRL ♡

pairing: clark kent x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend forgot your birthday :( how ever will he make it up to you...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: happy birthday to @fearcvlt!!! one of my sweet friends who i love so so much. i hope you're having a great day bb <3 alsooo just fyi to everyone, there will be no part 2 to this.

From the moment Clark woke up today he’d been busy, busy, busy. 

Given that it was a Saturday, he hadn’t expected the influx of tasks thrown at him. However he’d never been one to complain, so instead of moaning and groaning, he handled each thing as it came. 

In the morning, he had to go into town to pick up a few things for his mom. On the way back, he had to stop by the Talon to discuss some details of a recent wall-of-weird incident with Lana. At some point later on, Lex was then calling him up and asking for his assistance on something.

He felt like he spent more time behind the wheel of his truck that day than on his own two feet with how much he was having to go back and forth across the familiar streets.

Really, every moment of Clark’s schedule over the past week had gone something like this. Packed full from dawn till dusk. He had tests to study for and essays to write. His regular responsibilities on the farm never let up as did his small circle of friends asking to do something or the other. And recently, there’d been a strange string of accidents that he felt compelled to investigate.

Last night specifically, he’d been occupied with Chloe and Pete. What was supposed to be a couple hours of research stretched into a few laps through the woods looking for a variant type of meteor rock and then a car ride to Granville and back. Once he finally got home, he passed out for a couple hours and then scraped himself out of bed to get through all of today.

Now in the evening, he finally had a moment of quiet. He sat by himself on the Torch’s computer, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as he looked into connections between all the components they’d found over the last several days. His eyes flicked across the tiny words glowing on the computer screen. Most of the time Chloe handled the research aspect of their investigations, but he felt so close to having this resolved. With a few more details, he could have this thing cracked in an hour.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door pulled his attention away from the article in front of him. He knew from the quick rhythm of them, they belonged to Chloe. His eyes flitted to the entryway as she appeared. She greeted him without any words, her usual smile and slight wave serving as enough for the two of them as she came in and set her stuff down at her desk.

“You must be really invested in this whole thing if it has you working late all alone,” she teased while shrugging off her coat.

“Something like that,” he responded as his gaze drifted back to the screen, “I’m glad you showed up. I think I really have something on this guy.”

“Oh that’s good,” she said, looking much more interested at the prospect of new information. Coming up behind him at the desk, she skimmed the article over his shoulder. “You know, I thought you’d be with your girlfriend tonight, Clark,” she added as she reached for the mouse to scroll down.

His brows furrowed at the mention of you. While he could talk about you for hours and hours, he didn’t understand the point in her bringing you up now. It felt like a joke going over his head. She’d said it with the normal dose of teasing she used towards him, but the statement as a whole sounded earnest.

“Why would you think that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just thought you guys might do something for her birthday. I know she’s not having a party, but I guess I assumed she’d still want to hang out with you,” she answered. The way she said it was so casual. It wasn’t meant to mock or come off as a gotcha. That was what it felt like though because in that moment Clark realized something.

He forgot his girlfriend’s birthday.

Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. He hadn’t completely spaced the event. Last weekend, he’d planned this all out in his head. He called in a reservation at your favorite restaurant, stashed away a few small things to give you, even made a note of where he was gonna buy you a cupcake from. It was just that over the past week, he’d gotten so busy and distracted that those plans faded to the back of his mind. Today, he hadn’t even looked at the date, hadn’t even put together that today was your special day.

But none of the excuses mattered. No matter how he put it, when it actually counted, he forgot your fucking birthday. And maybe he could have played it off like everything was a surprise, that he’d only been pretending to be so oblivious and inconsiderate, if not for the fact that his truck should have been in front of your house an hour ago because he told you he’d pick you up for dinner.

He shot up out of his chair so fast that it fell backwards and smacked against the floor. His hands ran through his hair as he frantically tried to think of what to do. Such a strong wave of panic washed over him that he almost burst into super-sprint right in front of Chloe.

“Clark, you didn’t,” she said, looking back at him. He didn’t even have to say the words for her to surmise the reason for his reaction, “That’s bad, even for you.”

“I know,” he agreed, blue eyes still wide and full of worry, “How could I forget? God, I thought about this. I had all of it figured out. This was the one thing I wasn’t gonna miss.”

“Well the day isn't over yet…” Chloe offered with a slanted look.

He rubbed at his brow for a second before nodding. Of course he was gonna try to make it up to you. His mind just didn’t work as fast as his body. He still had to figure out how on Earth he was going to explain this, let alone justify his absence to you. But he could do that on the way to your house. He really didn’t have any more time to waste.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll have to go try to make the most of how ever many hours are left,” he mumbled.

She nodded in support. “I’ll take over here. You go save the day,” she said.

As soon as Clark was out of her line of sight, he bolted. He zipped into a blur, ditching his truck in the parking lot in favor of his own speed. Later he could come back to drive it home. He didn’t have seconds to spare at red lights or finding parking as he collected the things he needed.

It took him around five minutes to pull everything together. He grabbed the pale blue gift bag from his house, picked up a cupcake from the store (the last one they had), and snatched a bouquet of flowers on his way out.

Every step of the way to you, words of apology ran through his mind, ranging from I’m so so sorry, I’m such an idiot to I swear the truck just broke down, I couldn’t get service, but I’m here now. He tried to think of something that would make this salvageable, but truly, this was his worst screw up with you so far. He’d been late to dates before. He’d forgotten important things. But standing you up on your birthday? That might be the fatal blow to your relationship.

He slid to a stop in front of your porch steps. All the windows in your house were dark. He knew your house would be empty with your parents out of town, but he couldn’t even see the glow of your small tv shining up in your room. Dread bubbled inside him as he realized you could have still gone out without him. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t deserve it, but the possibility didn’t sting any less.

Steeling himself for the possibility of no response, he walked up the wooden steps and across the floor panels to your front door. He took a moment to run his fingers through his windblown hair. With one more deep breath, he shifted the flowers to the crux of his arm and knocked on the door. The gift bag hung off of his other wrist while that hand held the small box with your cake in it.

Five seconds passed and then another several moments of silence too. He resisted the urge to knock again. You could just be taking your time.

But after another bout of quiet went by, he tapped his knuckles against the door again three times. If you didn’t answer this time after another minute, he’d have to regroup, he told himself.

That minute went by the same as the last though, and he still didn’t want to leave. He considered saying something or calling for you through the door; though, at this point in time, he wasn’t sure if his voice would be a strong selling point.

He waited another handful of seconds before raising his fist. Third time’s a charm, right? But before his fingers could make contact, he heard the lock unlatch and the knob twist in that clunky way it always did. Relief fizzled all through his body before he even saw your face.

The door cracked open. From what he could see, the interior of your house was as dark as the windows led him to believe. The nearest streetlight doused the small sliver of space in a faint glow. He could see your leg covered in fuzzy pajama pants and the side of your upper half adorned in an old oversized t-shirt. Your face appeared seconds later. At first, your expression looked neutral. Well you looked sad, but you didn’t look angry, which was what he had been afraid of.

Then your eyes lifted to look at his face, and once they registered the sight of the person before you, that fire lit up in an instant.

Immediately, you tried shutting the door, but he was quick. He stuck his foot forward, jamming his boot in the entryway to stop it from closing. The pressure didn’t really hurt, but he still winced for show.

“Baby, wait,” he pleaded, “I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. I deserve it-”

“Save it, Clark,” you gritted through your clenched jaw.

You threw your entire body weight against the door in an attempt to shut him out. He could hear your feet scraping against the floor along with your soft grunts as you tried forcing it closed. It would probably be cute if he didn’t feel so guilty.

“Just hear me out,” he tried again, “I’m sorry for being late. I’m really sorry. There’s no excuse that would make it ok, so I won’t even try to give you one. But please, sweetheart. I brought you some stuff, and it’s still your birthday-”

“You’re more than late! Late is fifteen minutes! Late is when thirty minutes pass so you call and explain you’re stuck in traffic! Late doesn’t mean an hour goes by and you finally show up because you realize you don’t have anything better to do, so you might as well!” you cut him off.

You couldn’t have said anything worse to Clark in that moment. He never wanted you thinking this was intentional, that he chose to be anywhere else that wasn’t with you. Now he pushed back a little. He leaned into the door, using his strength to scooch you further into the house and allow himself room to slip inside. As he did, he let some grunts slip out and even took a few seconds to give the illusion that you had a fighting chance.

“I swear this wasn’t on purpose. I’d never choose to make you wait or make you think that I don’t care or something,” he continued. A hint of desperation laced his words now. “I didn’t even forget. I’ve been planning this, and I had it all laid out in my head. I just… I just lost track of time. And it’s my fault, but I can make it up to you if you let me.”

You had turned away from him once he actually made his way into the house. Your body stood stiff as a board. He couldn’t even see your face to get some kind of read on how his words were coming across. And even worse, you weren’t saying anything back. He hesitated, mentally debating whether he should proceed with his pleas or give you a second. But ultimately, the former won. Logic and Clark didn’t mix well when it came to getting in your good graces again. He would do anything to make that happen.

“Honey, I know I missed the first part of the night, but I’m here now. And you’re here, and you look beautiful like you always do. And it’s still your birthday and I have some stuff for you,” he added.

“It’s not about the stuff, Clark. It’s not about what day it is or whatever,”you responded. You turned around to face him again. In the darkness, he couldn’t really make out your features, but your voice cracked. He didn’t need any light to know how your eyes were watering right now. How your lip was wobbling in that timid pout. 

He hated that he was so familiar with your disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, though this time they came out much weaker, like the sound of a dying soldier.

You took in a shuddery breath, either in preparation to yell at him or to maintain what you had left of composure. Neither happened right away. That almost felt worse, leaving him to burn under the heat of anticipation.

“I just… I don’t understand you. You can be so sweet. So caring. You make me feel like you really love me, but then you do stuff like this,” you finally said. Your voice cracked again, but this time it nearly stopped your words from coming out. You were losing a battle of your own against your tears.

“I do really love you,” he replied without a second thought. He dropped the flowers onto the nearby end table, shoving the gift bag and small box on after it. His arms opened for you as he took a step forward. He only hoped you wouldn’t push him away.

But you didn’t. You took the same step with your own feet and let him embrace you. The warmth of his body engulfed you all at once as his big arms looped around your frame. One of his hands found your head, cradling it against his chest.

“I do love you, baby. Always. I never want you to think I don’t,” he said softly.

You sniffled and squished your face against his chest. He held you tighter against himself. It didn’t feel tight enough. It never did for Clark. He always wanted you closer, held more securely, but he had to hold back if he didn’t want to shatter your bones.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry,” he cooed, planting a few kisses on the top of your head, “Don’t cry, babe. Please. I’m not worth it, alright? I don’t want you so sad over my stupid mistakes.”

While you weren’t saying anything, the weight of your emotions filled the air all around you. They were practically tangible to Clark - the disappointment and betrayal. The insecurity he caused. The pain he inflicted. He was almost glad you usually stayed silent while crying because he didn’t think his Kryptonian DNA would save him from being crushed by your words. At the same time, you didn’t have to speak them for him to understand the potential sentiment. He could tell from the muted nature of your sadness right now. You had gotten your hopes up. You believed that because tonight was special, it would be different. He would show up, and it wouldn’t be like countless other dates and occasions.

He stood there with you in the hall, rubbing your back and rocking back and forth with you a little. After a few minutes, he nudged your head back with the tip of his nose. “Let me see those pretty eyes, baby,” he whispered.

His own vision had adjusted to the dark by now. When you tilted your head upwards, he could see the small spheres all glossy, your lashes wet with the recent tears. He leaned in and kissed the shiny streaks running down your cheeks. The right one first, then the left. His hand cupped your face with all the care in the world.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours.

You gazed back into his bright blue eyes. God, you knew you should make this harder for him. He deserved to work for your forgiveness, but nothing made you weak like Clark. One glimpse of his eyes all wide, looking at you like a scolded puppy, and any anger towards him melted away like ice left out in the summer.

He laid a few more kisses along your face, moving his lips from one feature to the next. “You’re too sweet to be crying like this on your special day,” he said.

His thumbs swiped away remaining tears while your eyes began to dry up. Warmth filled your body again, blooming up in the hollow cold left by your prior loneliness. Looking at his face pushed the sadness away. Maybe today hadn’t been totally ruined.

“I won’t let this happen again, alright?” he told you in a hushed tone despite no one else being in the house. He made sure not to promise though. “I’ll get a calendar or something. I’ll write notes for myself. I’ll write ‘em all over my body like in that movie we watched last summer.”

“The movie that you left halfway through,” you said, your voice gently teasing now.

He exhaled sharply, and a smile spread across his lips. His eyes held a degree of shame still. It felt wrong to laugh about something like that when it was a piece of the issue at hand. But he could tell you were trying to lighten the mood, and he wouldn’t make you feel bad about that.

“I still got the idea,” he defended and ducked in, giving you another long kiss.

His arms pulled you tighter against his body while his hands swept down onto your back. One stayed between your shoulder blades as the other ventured South. His fingers glided over the small of your back, coasting over the top of your ass.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said.

You bit your lip at the sensation of his roaming hands. Allowing him a few more smooches, you finally pulled back to catch your breath for a moment.

“How do you wanna do that?” you asked.

He grinned, those sharp canines peeking out near the corners of his mouth. “I have something in mind, but any way you want is fine, baby,” he murmured.

“You can try your way…” you agreed. You had an idea of what he was picturing, and it wasn’t something you felt the urge to interfere with.

“Try,” he repeated playfully before pulling you into another series of kisses.

The two of you stumbled away from the front door and your gifts left on the end table. His feet followed yours down the hallway in the direction of your bedroom. Your back bumped into the wall a few times before you both slipped through the entrance of your room and found your ways to the bed.

The backs of your thighs hit your soft mattress first. Your smooth skin rubbed against the floral sheets spread over your bed. You let yourself fall back, and Clark’s body went with yours.

You shifted around, scooting up so that your head was on one of the plush pillows near the top of the mattress. He ended up with his frame hovering above your own. Only a few seconds passed before he pressed his lips to your again. Sometimes it felt as though Clark could kiss you all night. He paid so much attention to your lips, put so much dedication into every flick of his tongue and teasing pull with his teeth.

Your hands tried to return the same amount of reverence with their touches. You rubbed them up over his broad shoulders and along the nape of his neck. Your fingertips twisted the ends of his dark hair before sliding between the strands and scratching his scalp.

A groan rumbled up from his chest. You responded with a softer moan of your own. To go with the sound, your legs rose up against his sides and pressed into his hips. You pulled him closer, subtly urged him to tend to you where you wanted him most.

He finally pulled his mouth off you a minute later. His breaths now came out in harsh pants. The warm air fanned over your face while you stared up at your boyfriend. A cute shade of pink filled his cheeks while his pupils dilated with lust for you. His lips shimmered with your saliva under the faint light of the moon beaming through the window.

“My perfect, pretty girl,” he mumbled before dropping his head to your neck.

His attention focused there now. He kissed all over the column of your throat, moving without much strategy. Most of the time, Clark was very eager for you. He explored your body based on pure desire and nothing else. It always ended up feeling good for you though. Seeing his passion was half the pleasure.

While his lips worked above, his hands groped at you below. His large palms massaged your hips and smoothed up and down your sides.  His fingers kneaded your soft flesh. The feel of it alone had him starting to fill out in his jeans.

“You deserve so much, baby. So much more than I give you. Gonna try to make you feel how much you deserve,” he muttered against your skin, lust-fueled thoughts escaping without resistance.

At your waist, his fingers hooked over the hem of your pajama bottoms and gave the fabric a shove. “Lift your hips for me, honey,” he directed.

You did so without a question, allowing him to pull the garment the rest of the way off. It was so frustrating for Clark sometimes. He had the ability to literally tear your clothes to shreds. If he wanted to, those pants could have been gone faster than you could have asked him not to rip them. But for now, he still had to play the game by normal rules.

He moved his way over to your collarbone and placed a few kisses along the neckline of your shirt before migrating South. His hands fell from your hips to your thighs. He gave them the same treatment, squeezing and grabbing. But he wasted no time in parting them.

With one palm on each, he spread you open for himself and settled between your open legs. The sight of your panties greeted him. The dainty cloth covered the precious part of you he was aching to see. He stared at the material for a moment. It wasn’t wet yet, but it was tight against your folds. He could see so much of you without really seeing anything at all.

Leaning in, he kissed your pussy over the fabric. It was chaste. Something less sinful than anything he’d done to your mouth. His thumb came next. He ran the thick digit from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit. He kept the pace nice and slow, teasing enough that a shudder came over you as you fought the urge to squirm.

His eyes flitted up to your face. He couldn’t get enough of how cute you were. The desperation was written all over your face.

“I’m not gonna tease, sweetheart. Not on your birthday. Not when I already made you wait too long,” he cooed.

His long index finger hooked around the seat of your panties and gave them a good tug. He worked the small scrap off of you and tossed it to the floor. They landed near the mirror. He only noticed because beside it was a dress, slung over the back of a chair. It was lacy and layered and cute. Probably the one you had on earlier. He could only imagine how sad you looked while taking it off and swapping it out for the more comfortable clothes you had on now.

He had to make this good for you.

Returning his focus to the junction of your thighs, his eyes fixating on your cunt in front of him. Your folds gleamed with the beginnings of arousal. His teasing had been just enough to get the fire started inside of you.

He looked back up at your face and brought his own that much closer. “You don’t know how lucky I feel to call this mine,” he said before kissing your clit.

A broken whine crackled out into the air. The touch was so gentle, so soft. It didn’t really feel like much. But the sight of him, the sound of his voice, his mere existence had your body reacting like a live wire right now.

Clark stuck out his tongue and dragged it up the wet expanse of your pussy. The first couple licks were exploratory, but after a few more, they became greedy. He lapped at your cunt. The tip of his tongue swirled over your entrance and danced across your sensitive bundle of nerves. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste of you.

Meanwhile, more sweet noises poured from your lips. You whined and moan, a few times only managing to choke out a breathy mewl. One of your hands clutched at his hair while the other alternated between clawing at the blankets and covering your face. It flipped back and forth between the two, trying to find the one that would bring some stability.

Nothing you do could fight off the feeling of him though. His lips spread and closed, making out with your pussy. He got louder down there. Wet noises echoed between your thighs. None of them bothered him. He was wrapped up in the task of pleasing you. Nothing else mattered.

Clark didn’t get embarrassed in moments like these. Sometimes while on top of you he could get flustered, but with your pussy like this, he couldn’t string together the thoughts that would cause actual embarrassment. All he could fathom was a craving for more of you.

In these moments, you surrounded him completely. Your thighs wrapped around his head, pressing your skin against him. Your taste flooded his mouth. Your scent filled his nose. All he could hear were your needy cries. It was heaven, absolute paradise.

Grabbing your legs tighter, he held you in place more. You hadn’t started squirming yet, but by the time you felt the urge to, you’d be pinned in place. Somehow he put more effort into this now. He boosted your hips a bit before devouring you.

His mouth worked with desperation you’d never seen from him before. You called out his name before choking out another moan and letting your head fall back. He ground his hips into the mattress below him, chasing whatever physical pleasure he could find to match the bliss he felt inside.

While on top of you, Clark could run his mouth. Endless babbles of praise and cooed praises would fall from his lips. But right now, he was fixated on using his mouth for something more important. He could feel your muscles flexing against his tongue, clenching around nothing. You were getting close.

“That’s it, baby. Feels good?” he asked when he finally pulled himself back for some air. His fingers took over his mouth's duty, rubbing your clit fast and with good pressure.

Your hips bucked as a yelp flew out of you. Despite that, you still nodded as fast as you could. “Mhm. Gonna cum,” you whimpered, as if he needed the warning.

“Go ahead, birthday girl. You can cum whenever you're ready,” he said. He smacked a kiss on your thigh before diving back in and nuzzling into your cunt. His tongue swirled with fervent admiration before lashing over your little bud.

The rapid motion flicks you right over the edge. You gasped before whining. Your hips squirmed while you closed your fingers into a fist around Clark’s hair. You grabbed the soft tresses so tightly you might have pulled a few out. He didn’t complain about any of it though. How could he? It felt like everything in the world was perfect when he had you like this.

He rolled his own hips against the mattress a few more times. You were so caught up in your own release that you didn’t hear the whimpers coming from him. You didn’t catch the vibrations from his moans reverberating against your skin. His own pleasure did nothing but spur him on to keep working you through yours.

As you started to come down, he was still going. His movements were a bit sloppier, but he didn’t have any plans of stopping. It was when you whimpered and pushed at his head that he backed off. 

He looked up at you. Despite the smirk on his face, his voice came out gentle. “No more? You too sensitive?”

You nodded. “If you can stay, we have the whole night,” you offered.

His smirk broke into a full smile, and he crawled up the mattress to peck your lips. “I can stay. It’s still your birthday after all. We got some more celebrating to do.”

“Mhm,” you agreed. You kissed him again, tasting yourself as your lips met. Your hand trailed down his body to the waistline of his jeans. Before you could even ask, his fingers wrapped around your wrist and guided your limb back up.

“I’m fine, baby,” he said with a sheepish smile, “Plus it’s your birthday. It’s supposed to be all about you.”

“Oh my god, you’re really pushing the birthday thing,” you teased.

“I’m gonna keep pushing it until midnight because it’s true,” he said back. His hands cupped your face while he looked down at you.

After the two of you messed around a little more, Clark remembered the things he had left out by the front door. Pushing himself off the bed, he headed for the door. He was quick about getting your things, but he paused on the way back.

Instead of going straight to you, he walked into your kitchen. Rummaging through some of the drawers crammed full of spare parts and random coupons, he found a half-used pack of birthday candles and a lighter.

After opening the box that held your cake, he put it on a plate and jammed a pink-striped candle into the icing of your cupcake. With a click of the lighter, he topped it off with a small flame.

He headed back to your room, walking slowly so as to not have a surprise-ruining mishap on the way. Once he appeared in the doorway, you glanced at him. Your eyes caught on the lit up cupcake, and your whole face brightened. He chuckled and walked further into the room. Seeing that made the beginning of the evening sting less.

“You’re not singing,” you teased as you sat up on your bed and watched.

“That’s because I want you to have a nice birthday,” he replied.

The words brought actual laughter out of you, but you sat there patiently waiting as he walked over with the plate. He sat down beside you and held the plate before you. The whole time he remained careful, conscious of not getting the flame too close to any part of you.

“You gotta make your wish now,” he said and kissed your cheek.

Smiling at him, you thought for a second before turning towards the small flicker of fire. You stared at it for a moment, and then blew a small stream of air. It danced under the breeze before dissolving into thin smoke. He reached over and popped the stick of wax out for you, so you could eat your treat without impediment.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked as he brought the frosting-coated end to his lips.

“You know the rules. If I tell you, it’ll never come true,” you answered and took a bite.

He rolled his eyes, giving you a little poke to the side. “What about last year? That one come true yet or is it still a secret?”

“Still a secret,” you affirmed. You extended the bitten cupcake out to him. “Want some?”

“No, I’m alright. Already had my dessert,” he teased as he got up to throw away the candle. The words earned him a whine and a smack from you along with some grumbling about him being corny. But you had a smile on your face now, and that’s all he could want.

[dilf-docs]

A Pillar I Am Of Pride

vander x younger!fem reader

summary: you're too young, that's what he tells himself; that you could be one of his kids. but of course you have spent too much time with vi, and unfortunately for him, stubborn rhymes with your name: you just don't know when to quit.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (25ish/45ish), smut, p. in v., ofc there is SIZE KINK who do u think i am (he can choke me with those huge arms idcidc), manhandling, thigh riding, dirty talk, virgin!reader, public sex (they violating every health code on the last drop), belly bulge, cream pie, breeding kink if u squint, this is basically pwp also with happy ending (no one blows up or dies yet THIS IS my story and i say they're all happy as a big family SHUT UP)

word count: 3,142 words

side note: hope the arcane community hasn't died yet, looking at the amount of votes i received on the poll where i asked if y'all wanted stuff from the show. I LOVE VANDER!!! saw the drawing and went insane as in a PRIMAL NEED TO WRITE SMTH abt one of zaun dilfs overtook my brain LIKE who do u think i am???? ++based this little filthy 2D piece on the hozier song dinner and diatribes.

You just don't know when to quit.

Vander isn't dumb. He's lived enough and seen enough. He's lived enough to tell when the admiration became adoration on those big eyes of yours, that looked up to him first but now down without an ounce of shame through his sturdy built whenever you think he isn't looking.

He isn't dumb, so he knows he shouldn't encourage it. Yet, Vander also thinks there is something different about you.

There is this desire to protect you, love you like one of his kids, but there is something unique about you he can't quite tell, enough to differentiate you from viewing you as part of them, even if there's a bed belonging to you next to theirs.

He is a fool, for thinking you wouldn't end up adopting at least one of his or the kids' traits. And of course, lucky him, it had to be Violet's headstrong nature.

"Vander" you call out his name, and he's brought back to the red and the bridge.

He can still see you, eighteen, fighting against an enforcer twice your size: because he took the life of your parents, faces Vander had seen in the mines and then at their meetings, ready to fight in the name of the undercity, for a change and a future: for their daughter.

That is what Vander wants for his kids in Zaun. For you.

So he negotiates with them, even if your eyes fall when you learn the truth one evening, eavesdropping. He pleaded you not to tell the rest, afraid they'll see him differently, just like you. Still, you keep calling his name like you did at the bridge: like a hero; savior. He saved you from death, but you'd die for him.

He keeps his eyes trained on the glass he's wiping as you take a seat in the stools infront of him, unable to look you in the eyes. It kills him; gets harder each passing day. He can't keep lying to himself, but he can lie to you. Protect you, he swore he would do that when he saved you and took Powder and Vi. So, yes, he'll lie his ass off, that his heart too hasn't changed after the years; that it doesn't beat for you and only you.

"Hey, y/n" he forces out, but even saying your name brings him pain.

When did you go from a kid leaving the last remains of hope and naive kids in Zaun drop sooner than others, to a woman equally dangerous in heart and beauty? When did you stop looking like a big sister or a babysitter, to more as a mother to Mylo, Claggor, Powder and Vi?

"Vander" you call again, touching his arm softly, but it burns. It burns.

He stops what he's doing, still without sparing a glance your way.

"C'mon, V." he hates the way such a silly nickname, a monosyllable on top of that, makes him feel. "Look at me, will you?"

He does so, because he can't deny you anything.

"There you go" you laugh easily, as if you didn't know the power you held over him. "Easy, isn't it?"

"You better let me finish" stern, but a smile betrays him.

"No one is stopping you" you huff, "or bothering you"

He finishes the glass, picking up another. "You are"

"Me?" you laugh the accusation off. Then it dies down, and all that's left is the neon hues of outside, reflecting something more mellow, akin to sincerity in your face. "You're right, it's always me"

He doesn't know what to say, all words lost. Silco used to say he knew how to move the people, that masses would follow just by looking at him: Vander always knew what to say.

But as of late, during the end of the day, when it's just you and the dirty glasses he cleans away, Vander finds it hard to speak even, like you're trying to talk in a language he doesn't know, or worst, used to, yet is too old for that now.

"Where is everyone?" he asks, and when you laugh, he knows he's said something stupid. But there are more stupid things to say, like I love you, so he's safe. For now.

"Might be because we're closed" you mock. "The kids are asleep, if that's what you truly wanted to ask. Made sure of it"

The last part, whispered like a secret. He can see the dare laced in between your words, the desire that pours like the drink he's serving you right now, but he's too old to play games.

"Good" then pushes the glass to where you sit. "Drink"

"Is it new?" you inspect the glass. "I hope you're not trying to poison me"

He laughs, "You know I couldn't hurt you, y/n"

There goes that expression again, and he hates to realize he's playing along.

"I know, Vander" you take a full sip, as if showing him just how much you'd trust him. Like he could have a gun put to your head and you'd understand; like he could have a hand around your neck and you'd breath the last huffs of oxygen in his name.

Silence settles in, until you decide to break it by saying:

"You know, if you wanted to get me drunk" the drink dissapears in a rough gulp, the liquid smooth while it burns and slides down your throat, "you could've just asked"

"And for what would I want to do that?" he bites right into the bait.

The stool creaks as you get up, and he finds your face closer than the smoke and ashes of when he takes a drag.

"Because I know you too want this" you whisper, dangerously low.

His breath hitches, heart beating fast. He could break you in two, if he wanted to, but now trembles like a leaf in the wind with just your perfume and eyes piercing through his.

"Want what?" he dares to ask, duties forgotten long ago.

You click your tongue, maybe in dissapointment.

You just don't know when to quit.

"The evening's slow" now sweet, tempting. "About to end"

He feels drunk, even if he hasn't had a drop. You're lulling him right into your trap. It doesn't matter if he has stopped you before: ignoring the bat of your eyelashes, the lingering touches and the sweet words that seemed reserved for him only.

"What would you do?" he gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. To me, too coward to voice out loud; to stop this nonsense.

You walk over to him, standing still, almost defiant, even if he doubles your size; the thought only makes heat pool in your stomach. The ember of the moonlight shines over your corageous eyes, and Vander thinks he really needs to shorten your quality time with Vi. A hand traces over his defined pecs: hands he's seen before hold a gun, now touching him with a softness that doesn't belong in the undercity.

"Don't you think knowing it's late makes it easier know what I have in mind?" you laugh, and it tickles parts in his body he isn't ready to say yet. "Just give in"

You should've know when to quit.

His eyes darken, and this isn't the Vander you know. If anything, you should be scared, but you rub your thighs together, spot already wet.

"If anyone's about to give in, it's you"

Before you can register, his lips smack together with yours as he takes the lead. His big hands cup your face, traveling down until they reach your hips, and the pressure of his size feels so much better than you imagined.

"Tell your man what would yo do tonight?" huskily whispered your way. His knee finds it's way between your thighs as he applies pressure to your already slick cunt, making you yelp. "Or cat got your tongue?"

You're at loss for words, for the very first time in a while. All that time spent provoking him, edging and pushing for a reaction, so sure of the hidden flame sparking behind the curtain of smoke of his pipe, to know surrender so easily, like your body is unable to react at all.

So instead, you entangle your fingers through his greying hair, a small whine escaping your lips, the sleeping fierce need of battle now translated in the fight for dominance, his mouth growing more demanding.

Vander pushes your body against the bar, making the wood creak. He applies more pressure with his knees, making you whimper again, his tongue reaching every spot inside your sweet mouth.

"God, you're so sweet" he mumbles.

"Then why did you stop yourself all this time?" you breath out, as tempting as the shadows that walk through the streets.

Hi smiles devishly, biting your lip. "Ain't nothing stopping me no more"

He uses your body as he pleases, handling it to his complete and utter advantage, thumbs now digging into your hipbones before he feels you grinding against his knee.

"Greedy little thing. Haven't I taught you manners, ey?" but the way he looks at you, like a starved man who's been denied a meal for years, encourages you to keep rolling your hips. Once you find a steady rhythm, he releases your hips and moves to grab your wrists, pinning you down in the free bar. You whine, the pain of the hard wood on your back digging on your skin.

"Vander" you gasp, but he shuts up the pain by forcing his lips right back. His handsgrab back ahold of your thighs so you keep up the rhythm. He can feel a spot over his clothes start to dampen, doing nothing but augmenting the hunger. God, he can even feel the smell of your arousal.

You moan, head leaning back.

"Feels good?" he asks, and you mumble a nonsensical myriad of words that sound like yes. He nips your neck, making you squirm under his touch.

"C'mon, baby. I ain't deaf but I didn't hear you" Vander taunts, biting still. Now he travels to your collarbone and then tits, removing your shirt to reveal no bra under. Of course, you little vixen had planned it all and he fell like a fool. Not that he's complaining, of course, giving a lick to the soft rosy skin around your nipples.

"M-more, please!" you whimper out loud, mind numb.

"You wanted it so bad, yet can't even speak" he murmurs, sucking a spot dangerously near to your nipple. Your movements against his knee come to a halt, but he makes sure to keep you and your puffy core grinding against his thigh. "Talk"

He should know that you wouldn't give up that easily, prideful as he was, no matter if this is what you've always wanted.

"I said talk" your legs tremble around his when he forces you down harder. "I wanna hear you ask for what you say you wanted so bad, don't think I didn't notice all your traps, taunts and plays, little vixen"

The nickname makes you moan, inciting you to pour the words out.

"Ruin me, Vander" and he barely has time to react, knowing that no man has ever touched you before, your untainted territories dripping for him. "Please- take me and make me yours"

"You know I've never denied you anything" he breaths against your neck, "how could I ever say no to you if you ask so nicely, huh? I see you remembered those manners"

It's now his hand what touches between your thighs, leg long gone. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth, making you shiver.

"Let's start small, yeah?" he encourages, "I know you're my brave girl, but I would like you to come on my fingers first"

Vander strips you down, eyes going dark when he sees your needy cunt on display. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and the pressure is new and much, you feel you could come with just the touch of his hand.

"You're so pretty. Can't believe you're giving all of this to an old man like me" he kneels down as you sit legs opened up on the bar, dragging his tongue through your wet folds.

"Sit still, yeah? Let me take care of you" he licks again, gently sucking on it as well. He can't help but wonder why he folded so easy, as if he hadn't put a stop or ignored all of your previous attempts at having him. Now he has you, under him, saying his name in a way he hadn't before, as he makes out with your puffy clit.

"Fuck" you gasp, head falling against the wood. Your hands and toes curl, waves of sensations never felt before washing over you, as Vander continues giving your pussy ministrations.

The energy is electric, your arousal flowing like a river, making wet slurping sounds come out of his lips, feeling up the empty bar, your moans as back track filling his ears. Vander's beard is covered in your juices, making all of this the more obscene.

"I see you liking it" he jokes, licking some of it off his mouth. He adjusts your legs over his broad shoulders, barely noticing the added weight. Your thighs are so close, he can feel them tremble as he slips a finger inside of you, pumping in and out.

"V-Vander" you whine in ecstasy. He loves the little sounds coming out of your mouth; obscene symphony. He adds another finger, now curling them upwards, making your walls drip more while clenching around them, loving the sensation. Your nails dig so deep, you can feel blisters inside of them, holding yourself for as what would be your first orgasm.

"I-I think I'm going to-" he can sense it, years of experience ahead from you. So now he gives his fingers a break, kneeling to let his tongue enter the game again. It swirls around the tight walls, making you squirm.

"Fingers. Now" you demand, and he's carrying your legs again on his shoulders, thrusting them inside of you aggresively. You feel your folds clench around them, your very first orgasm washing over you.

"You behaved well" he praises while kissing your puffy cunt, skin glistening and still sensible. "That's my brave girl"

He uses the cloth he's cleaned the glasses with to wipe off himself. You gasp, laughing even if your eyelids feel heavy.

"What? Think I'm gonna be dirty when I fuck the shit out of you?"

You didn't think his mouth could be so filthy, used to his fatherly side, but oh, you're not complaining. He removes his belt, pulling his pants down. Of course he's huge down there, you think, as the tent behind his underwear marks a reasonably large silhoutte.

"Now, will you be brave one last time? I don't want to scare you, or hurt you?" his boxer falls to his knees, dick hard. You gulp, but can't back off now. He, however, can sense your doubt. "Just say it, and we'll stop"

"No" even you are surprised by the conviction in your voice. "I want you, Vander. Always will"

You open up your legs, closer to the edge of the furniture. He walks over until his dick brushes your cunt, pulling up your legs once again, a position you've discovered as of today, might be your favorite.

"See, there is a reason I didn't clean you up. Don't think I don't know my manners as well"

He lubes with your still wet pussy, wasting no time to rub his dick against your glistening folds.

"We're alone, but don't want to wake up the kids, ey" you nod. "So, you'll behave?" you nod again. "Good girl"

"Now, if it hurts, tell me and I'll stop"

Vander aligns himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, buries himself all the way to the hilt. It's almost as if he's forgotten his gentle side.

"Mphm-" you're about to scream, but his big hands cover your mouth.

"Bad girl" he tuts, "you promised"

Your back hurts, arching itself from the wood as you take all of his girth, walls squeezing him perfectly.

"Don't worry, the pain doesn't last long" he assures you, hips going back and forth softly. He picks up the pace, slowly but determined, seeing you have adjusted to his size already. "There. Take it, my girl"

He buries himself inside of you, body numb at his size and strident movements of his hips against you.

"Y-you're so b-big" you speak up for the first time in minutes, letting out another moan. "I can even feel you-"

You don't finish the sentence but the image is there, right infront of him. That only encourages him to fuck you harder, the thrusts now more brutal and violent.

"Tell me, where you feeling me?" you can't speak, so you point to your stomach. "Yeah? Filling you up so good you can't even speak?" then pounds you even harder. The pain is intense, but so is the pleasure, making you mumble more incoherences while even tears begin to well up in your eyes.

There is pressure on your lower belly, and it's not his bulge. No, you recognize it, despite having only felt it once: your orgasm is building up again. The furniture squeaks, looking like it will break under both of your weights combined, his thrusts now sloppier and messier. He was also close, grunting when your walls begin clenching around his dick.

"Fuck, Vander" you whimper out. "I think I love you"

Before he can register the weight of your words, thick ropes of cum fill up your pussy, his whole body shaking and finally succumbing to his age. He empties himself inside of you, your greedy cunt taking every drop. It's a fleeting second, but he remember Felicia, and the news she dropped that day. He thinks of a child with your eyes and his hair, the cruel world that awaits them but still can't let you waste any of his seed.

The room goes quiet as both of you try to even your breaths. After a while, your confession settles in.

"I don't think I love you" he gets down, kissing your nose gently. "I know I do. Can't deny that anymore"

The adoration on his eyes is so pure, you feel like crying again. The feelings you kept to yourself and left like crumbs for him to pick up through out this past days have finally transformed into something real. So real, your pussy still feels warm, just as your heart.

He easily carries your body on his strong arms, up to his room. You had never slept there before, and despite the numbness, you keep your eyes open, excited as a child.

"Good" you laugh, "because I was running out of ideas"

[pyrodolls]

will you write more parts for the yandere!fan fic? 🫣

STALKER! YANDERE BOY X GN! READER (PART 2)

WARNINGS: stalking, mentions of murder, regular yandere tendencies, gender neutral reader

A/N: damn that first part did a lot better than i thought it would, thank you guys! so how about i bring in a second yandere… i’m naming this yandere victor, and the yandere in the first part is bayani. (btw the art below is by RIP2_)

part one (with bayani) right here! a third part is coming soon, featuring both bayani and victor when they realize they both are pining for you...

stalker! yandere boy that puts in more effort than superfan! yandere boy to catch your attention. bayani could never love you. he can barely even handle you looking at him, what makes you think he’s the right one for you? he’s just a lowly coward. victor is the one for you. he loves you so much. more than bayani.

stalker! yandere boy that doesn't care about your music. not one bit. because he loves you for you! who cares what your music sounds like? he doesn't care what genre it is, or if you even have a good voice or not. he'd be the best boyfriend for you because he treats you like an actual human, not just some singing machine. besides, he personally prefers metal. maybe he can listen to it with you when you get together! it sounds like a delightful date.

stalker! yandere boy that follows you around wherever you go. he tracks your travelling patterns, and visits whatever places you visit at the exact same time. whether you fly private, commercial, or even use a train or car. doesn't matter. he will follow you. where you go, he goes.

stalker! yandere boy that would go as far as to disguise himself as someone else in order to interact with you and gain your attention. you go eat at a restaurant? victor would kill a random waiter, steal their uniform, and take their place. you stay at a hotel? he's posing as room service and will steal your clothes and belongings tidy up your room! he'll even use the key to your room to walk in and watch you sleep at night. you just look so enchanting in your sleep, how can he resist? it's not wrong, he's just keeping you safe. he is the only one that can make sure you are happy and healthy. in victor's eyes, even the strongest bodyguard cannot keep you safe. you don't need anyone else. just him.

stalker! yandere boy that tries to catch your attention anytime he can. he needs you to notice him. he needs you to say something to him, talk to him, touch him, know him, acknowledge his existence. victor needs you to validate his existence in order to continue living. without you, what would he do? he cannot handle being away from you. he cannot handle being alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. he needs you.

stalker! yandere boy that gets jealous easily. you collab with another artist or you're seen holding hands with someone in public? he's spreading a fake rumor about whoever it is and ruining their life. you shouldn't be so stupid. why associate with someone else when you have him? why ditch him for someone else? he's right there. he can be better than them. who cares what they look or sound like? victor's so much better. he can show you how much better he is, if you give him a chance.

stalker! yandere boy that is so desperate for any kind of attention from you. it doesn't matter if it's positive or negative attention. he always plays it cool and acts all smug and calm when you notice him, but on the inside he is resisting the urge to grab you and run away from the world. all he wants is to have a peaceful, isolated life with you. away from the disgusting people in the world. you and victor can be happy together.

stalker! yandere boy that is incredibly clingy. you know you need him, right? he must be near you at all times. his presence keeps you alive and happy. you keep HIM happy. he needs you. you both need each other. if he can't see or feel your presence, he will go insane. that is why he travels anywhere you go. that is why he must go to each and every one of your concerts and meet-and-greets. you assumed he was just a big fan to be at every single event, but you just can't see that he loves you much more than just some fan.

stalker! yandere boy that just wants to be with you! let him be around you. let him completely obsess over you, touch you, love you, do whatever he wants to you. he won't hurt you! he just wants a little bit of freedom to say and do whatever he wants to you once you are together, so he can make sure you don't leave him. he will make you feel so good, so loved, so appreciated. nobody will ever love you more than he does.

but there may be someone that rivals his affections. a lowly, masochistic, scrawny pest that thinks he loves you more. victor will have to do something about it before your little superfan finally decides to man up and make a move on you.

[gyaruhana]

hiii i have a request for gwinam ^_^ - maybe something when he is walking in the school after being bitten and he finds reader, who is a ver shy & overvall cutesy person, and gwinam has had a crush on her for a very long timee ,, maybe him founding her leading to a confession and then it gets spicy ??

take ur time !! 🎀 (dont mind it if u take the request and turn it into headcanons, i know u are just writing like that rn :33)

Yoon Gwi-Nam - Shy!reader (detailed) headcannons

Synopsis: gwinam with a shy reader (me core)..

A/N: i love him so much he will return in season two trust !! this is not proof read for the record..

Warnings: smut content, it's yoon gwinam (actually he's sort of soft i'm ngl)

➠ Gwinam very much felt like God given his current situation. He was bitten by zombies after Cheongsan had the guts to both gouge his eye out and push him off the bookcase into the hoard of zombies but Gwinam had survived. He was convinced that it was destiny. That he was given the gift of immunity so he could carry out what he believed to be his sole purpose: revenge on Cheongsan.

➠ At least, that was what he had believed to be his reason for surviving. Until he caught a very familiar scent. Being bitten by zombies had given him enhanced strength, enhanced vision- enhanced everything really. But it most importantly gave him an amazing sense of smell. He could smell the light, lingering scent of perfume and he knew exactly who it belonged to.

➠ You. Pretty and adorable you. Far before the apocalypse had occurred, he had formed a crush on you. You were shy and there was something so endearing about your nervous behavior that had him desperate for you. He was very aware of the fact that his feelings may not be reciprocated because, well, he was the total opposite of you and quite violent but now, with every other student being living corpses and no one for you to turn to, it's only logical you'd depend on him, right?

➠ A smirk settled on his face at the idea of having you utterly dependent on him. Now, he had two reasons for survival. One: Kill Cheongsan, and two: have you all to himself. With your scent clouding all his senses, he pushed Cheongsan to the back of his mind and set out to find which classroom you must be hiding in. He was sure that if he swooped in like a knight in shining armor, you'd immediately fall in love with him and live a sweet happy ever after.

➠ When he stumbled across the room you were hiding in, he came face to face with a very scared you. He could hear how fast your heart was racing and you quiet sniffles - a clear indicator you were (or at least had been) crying. The sound of your fear drove him mad for all the wrong reasons. He had already promised himself to never let anything happen to your sweet and innocent face so you could stay happy and that promise especially applied to the current problem.

➠ Without another word, he slammed the door open and walked in, an action that made you flinch as you quickly stood up. You had assumed a zombie had somehow forced it's way in but, when you looked at the source, you couldn't exactly tell. He didn't look like a rotting corpse but there was a lot of blood on him that gave you the feeling he wasn't exactly human either.

➠ He shut the door behind him to ensure no zombie could follow after him and eat your pretty flesh. After all, he didn't want you to die now that he found you. You'd be useless as a zombie and he'd rather not have to leave your rotting corpse behind.

➠ "What's wrong? You look a little scared," he spoke with a slight smirk. He found your fear slightly amusing now since he knew you'd absolutely be fine with him around to protect you. He'd be damned if he let you die in this hell hole.

➠ The surprise on your face when he finally talked was enough to make him laugh. He found your evident confusion amusing and he watched your eyes look him up and down several times as you assessed his condition.

➠ As if realizing he looked less than decent, he quickly raised a hand and wiped the blood around his mouth away and onto the sleeve of the white jacket he had stolen. He wasn't trying to scare you away from him, just scare you toward him but the blood on his face certainly wouldn't help him at all.

➠ "W-what happened to you..?" You questioned nervously as you made no move to get closer. He didn't want to be entirely honest because he could only assume you'd run if you realized he had already been bitten several times. It'd be better to lie to you for now so he could get close to you and make sure you don't escape him.

➠ "Nothing. Just got in a fight with another student," he responds as he slowly starts walking closer to you. Of course, you seemed skeptical of his words but he wasn't lying - he was just hiding certain parts of the story.

➠ It was quiet for a few seconds before you seemed to relax in his presence, believing his slight lie. He was slightly taken aback when you immediately walked over to him and pulled his face down to investigate his injury. The way your eyes scanned over his wounded eye made him feel something very new. A different warm feeling in his heart.

➠ "I don't really know much about health and injuries but maybe your eye could get infected if you don't treat it soon," you speak with a sheepish smile before pulling back a little. Your genuine concern for him was so adorable given what type of person was. He definitely didn't deserve your kindness but he took it anyway because he was greedy for you.

➠ "There might be a medkit in here," you speak as you make a move to turn away to search the room. Gwinam doesn't let you get far though and quickly grabs your hand to pull you back. "It's fine, it doesn't hurt or anything. I'm used to it," he speaks as he looks down at your concerned face.

➠ God, you were the cutest thing to him. Your big eyes, you're pretty eyelashes, the way your lips were in a slight pout because you were oh so concerned for him. Not to mention how you were noticeably smaller than him. God, every inch of you was perfect - utterly adorable.

➠ "Are you sure?" You ask curiously and he smirked as a thought crossed his mind at your words. "Well, there is one issue," he spoke as he looked down at you. Of course, your curiosity was peaked so you immediately questioned what the issue was - hoping to help him fix it.

➠ "I lied when I said it doesn't hurt. It does. I think I need someone to kiss it better," he says, his smirk only growing wider. His words pushed you into a stunned silence before you looked away and awkwardly smiled with a slight blush. Your reaction to his words only fueled his confidence as he pushed you to do it.

➠ Miraculously, he had actually managed to convince you despite how shy you seemed about the whole situation. He watched as you stood on your tippy toes and leaned closer. It was an adorable sight, watching you try reach up to give him a quick kiss. He couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face just like he couldn't stop himself from pressing his lips to yours.

➠ To ensure you didn't try pull away, he placed a hand on the back of your head to keep you close as he kissed you. You didn't reciprocate the kiss at first and he knew he'd have to coax you into it. He knew you were probably freaking out internally and far too shy to return his forward action.

➠ After what was a very long kiss, he pulled away with a smirk before licking his lips. "You're so tense. It's just me. Unless.. you don't want to kiss me?" he says teasingly. He can see the look on your face and, god, he'd love to still have his phone right about now so he could take a photo and capture it forever.

➠ If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't exactly against the kiss. You had seen him around school before the outbreak and you had heard of his tendency to bully students but you felt so drawn towards him. You couldn't help yourself - especially when he made it a point to stare at you from afar or brush his hand against yours when walking past in the hallway. He had really wormed his way into your heart.

➠ He stayed quiet for a few moments, letting you process what just happened before he leaned down and kissed you again. This time you reciprocated, more in tune with how you felt, and he was a little too pleased about that. He couldn't help himself when he started to kiss you with more passion before pulling away and trailing messy kisses down your neck and throat.

➠ It didn't take long before he had his cock inside you, pounding away at you with a bundle of grunts and groans leaving his mouth. He had you pressed against the wall, his hands on your thighs as he held you up and fucked his cock up into you. You felt so perfect around him - like you were made for his cock and it was driving him crazy.

➠ Every cry and moan and whimper that escaped your mouth drove him to use more force. He wanted you to cum on his cock. He wanted to fill you with his own cum too. He wanted to claim you and keep you as his forever. Not like you had anywhere else to go, Gwinam had decided that nobody would have you like this except for him. He'd be the only one allowed near you - allowed access to your perfect, tight hole.

➠ As he neared closer to the edge of what was sure to be his best release, he opted for a new position. He quickly moved you to the floor and pinned you down before practically folding you in half and thrusting fast and hard once again.

➠ The new position helped him to reach even deeper and he could feel your walls tighten around him, a clear sign you'd cum all over his cock soon. God, he couldn't wait to watch you come undone. He wanted to make you scream even if it caused every zombie within the school to run towards the classroom. Not like they could lay a finger on you anyway. He'd be damned if he let some corpse kill you now when he finally got his dick wet with your cum.

➠ The moment you do cum, he's cumming with you and neither of you were quiet about it. You both let out a loud moan as he continued to thrust inside of you as he orgasmed. "You're so fucking tight, fuck!" Gwinam cursed out as his thrusts slowed before eventually coming to a stop. He made no move to pull out though, wanting to make sure his seed stays inside of you.

➠ The classroom went quiet as the only sounds were the heavy breaths of both you and Gwinam. He had never felt so amazing in his life and now he knew for sure you were perfect for him.

─── "I'm never letting you go, you hear? I'm going to fuck your tight hole everyday now and make you my pretty doll,"

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Daddy's Boy

🇺🇸Pairing(s)🇺🇸→ Step Dad Ari Levinson x Step Son reader ⚠CW⚠→ top Ari Levinson, bottom male reader, feminization, reader’s ass is called boypussy, edging, possessive Ari, Ari calls you his boywife, gay, gay-sex, cheating, infidelity, anal sex, anal fingering, thigh fucking, and cross-dressing. Ari makes his fantasy come true and confesses that he always wanted you. 🇺🇸Rating🇺🇸→ Explicit 🇺🇸Requested🇺🇸→ Yes

🇺🇸Word Count🇺🇸→ 1.9k

🇺🇸Summary🇺🇸→ You were caught by your stepdad, Ari Levinson, cross-dressing. The only condition for Ari not to tell on you was for him to fuck you while wearing the dress. 

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

You secretly wore women’s clothing, whether it was underwear, leggings, dresses, or typical everyday clothes. You felt more comfortable wearing them, and you always thought you looked hot in the mirror. You often secretly buy feminine clothes or try on your mother’s. 

You never told your mother about your cross-dressing, and you definitely didn’t tell your stepdad, Ari Levinson. You feared how both your parents might react, especially Ari. 

Ari Levinson was, excuse the cringe word, an alpha man. He was tall, standing at 6’0 "(182 cm), and muscular. With his chiseled body, as if the Greek God sculpted him themselves, and his bulging biceps, you can see why your mother fell in love with him. He was also very hairy, with bushy facial hair and a hairy chest, especially his happy trail that led down.

Whenever you cross-dress, you usually lock your door. Your mother didn’t care but Ari, on the other hand, did. He would say that you didn’t have to lock your door or that you could trust him. He would stand close to you, his rough hands grazing against your hips. He was weird at times.

You never understood why he acted like that but you never questioned it. 

XXX

Today was going to be a great day, you felt it. Your mother and Ari were both on separate business trips for two weeks. You were finally home alone after a long time, and you decided to use the time to try on the clothes you bought.

Ari was told the mission was called off and told to return home. He groans in annoyance at the waste of time but at least he gets to go home, especially since he gets to see you, his precious stepson. 

He knows he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself. He was practically obsessed with you ever since his wife, your mother, introduced you to him. He often touches himself to thoughts of you, using your boxers to jerk off, and other nefarious thoughts. He also prevented any man from ever having a relationship with you because of his mindset that you belong to him.

When he entered the house, he couldn’t hear the usual sounds of you playing games, laughing, or snoring. His loud footsteps rang as he walked towards the master bedroom, seeing that the door was cracked open.

Looking in, Ari’s jaw dropped as he saw you wearing revealing clothes. Tight leggings that hugged your luscious ass and thighs and a small skirt that barely covered anything. Ari’s cock jumps with excitement as he watches you twirl around and check yourself out. He was rubbing his bulge, burly hand rubbing over the tightening fabric, letting out quiet groans. 

You were blissfully unaware of Ari’s presence until two hands grabbed your hips. Already knowing who it was, you started panicking. “I-it not what it looks! It's… uhh.” You stuttered as you tried to explain, but there was no way you could change what was really happening. Your blabbering stopped when you felt something large and thick grinding against your ass.

“There’s no need for that, baby. It's quite obvious what’s going on here.” Ari said in a deep husky voice as his burly hands roamed your lower body before moving to the upper body. He groans as he grinds his bulge against your perky ass. You could feel him breathing down your neck.

“If you don’t want your mother to find out, you’ll do what I say.”

XXX

Your heart was beating rapidly and your breathing quickened. You were in the kitchen, making a simple meal for you and Ari. Following Ari’s order, you wore a skirt with no boxers and a shirt. The cold air was brushing against your bare ass and somewhat erect cock. There should be no reason why you’re getting turned on, but you were. 

Suddenly, you felt those same hands grab onto your hips, the same erection now grinding against your bare ass. You could now feel how big it was and it felt intimidating. “I always imagined you as this.” Ari's husky voice said as he leaned down into your ear. He started pressing small kisses around your nape and licking long stripes.

For some reason, it felt oddly domestic—something that is often between two lovers. You’ve never been in a relationship before, but now you can see the appeal: having someone to wake up to, someone to show you affection, and other special things. You started melting into Ari’s embrace, becoming vulnerable under his touch…

“I knew you cross-dressed. It was quite obvious, I’m surprised your mother didn’t find out. I’m not complaining though since I have you like this. My boywife…” Ari purrs as he unzips and pulls down both pieces of his garments. You can feel your stepdad's large cock pushing in between your thighs. Ari gasps from the warmth and softness of your thighs wrapping around his cock. 

Your breathing quickens with soft moans leaving your mouth. Ari started thrusting slowly, his large cock fucking your thighs. The area around you and Ari was hot, the sensation of sex making you feel like you were floating. The kitchen was filled with a combination of moans and groans. “Should’ve gone with you… you should’ve been with me! Not your mom… should’ve made you my stay-at-home boywife.” 

You could feel your face burning from what Ari said. You didn’t know Ari thought about that or even about you like that. Ari pulled you by the chin and pressed his lips against yours. Both of you melted into the kiss as the older man’s grip tightened, his thrust slowing down before pulling out.

“You taste so good, just as I imagined.” the older man says, pulling back to breathe before continuing. Using his strength, he manhandled you and brought you over to the kitchen counter. Your mind was shutting down from Ari’s actions. The sensation was euphoric; his scruffy beard scratched your chin and his soft lips and dominant tongue found its way into your mouth. 

Ari pulled back causing you to whine. “No need to whine. I’ll give you something much better.” The older man says as he lathers his fingers with saliva. After determining his fingers were wet enough, he slowly started pushing them toward the tight ring of muscle. You gasped as you felt Ari’s thick finger circling your hole before pressing inside.

“A-Ari!” You cried as your ass started clenching around the intrude. Ari groans from his fingers being sucked deeper into your velvety depths as adrenaline rushes through your veins, causing you to grasp onto Ari for support.

“It's okay, baby. I need you to breathe for me. That’s it, such a good boy.” Ari praises you, feeling your body calming down and becoming less tense. He pushed his fingers deeper till your rim touched the base of his digits. When Ari called you a good boy, you felt your body melt into him from the praise, your smaller body pressed against Ari’s much larger and hairy body. 

Your hands roam the older man’s chest, marveling at how muscular the older man was. You could see the skin twitch from your touches while Ari groans. 

Your cock has been neglected and Ari decided to give it the attention it needed. Using his other free hand, he wraps it around and starts stroking it. It was then Ari found the sweet spot and his fingers repeatedly touching your prostate. The house was filled with your moans from too much stimulation; your aching cock being stroked and your ass being stretched open with your stepdad’s thick fingers abusing your prostate.

“D-daddy… Need more.” You whined and whimpered as you began riding his fingers. Ari grins before pulling his fingers out and replacing them with something much bigger. You were confused until you felt something large and thick ram its way into your ass–breaching the ring of muscle as it pushed itself to the hilt and the cockhead pressed against your prostate.

“You feel so good wrapped around me… f-fuck… so tight for me. I could be inside you the whole day.” Ari growls as he aggressively thrusts into your tight hole. The echoes of skin-on-skin slapping and loud squelching rang through the house–maybe even next door because the walls were so thin. 

You instinctively wrapped your legs around the older man’s waist, pulling him closer and feeling his cock go deeper inside you. With Ari’s aggressive thrusts and his cock hitting the prostate, you couldn’t process anything that was going on, not even what Ari said next. “You don’t know how much effort I’ve gone to… To make sure you were untouched so I could be the one to… fucking hell… whisk you away.” Ari groans as he pulls you closer to him. His thrusts were getting sloppier signaling his climax.

Even though you were basically fucked dumb, you still understood, to some extent. Any man that you ever talked to or contacted suddenly no longer wanted to continue. All of them ran away and you went to your precious parents, especially your stepdad, for comfort. 

Despite Ari confessing to ruining your love life, you weren’t mad at him. A loud voice in your head told you to accept this man as your own, pushing aside the fact that he was married to your mother. “Gonna cum… cum with me,” Ari growls as he starts stroking your cock intensely.

You could feel the older man’s cock twitching inside, his heavy balls tightening as cum was pumping through the epididymis. Ari grabbed your head and pulled you towards his lips. At that same time, he gives one final thrust. Your cock was doing the same thing, it was throbbing badly as it was about to explode. 

Your body went boneless. Your aching cock spurts its load all over yours and Ari’s hairy chest. The older man lets out a low groan–his cock pumping thick cum deep inside, filling your stomach with an unfamiliar warmth. Ari pulled back before giving small kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

“Good boy. You’re perfect,” Ari says, pulling his softening cock out of your abused and puckered hole. A loud pop echoed as thick globs of cum oozed out, the counter and cabinets beneath painted white. 

After a few minutes in silence beside the quiet pants, reality set in. You had sex with your mother's husband of ten years, your stepdad. It feels so wrong but right at the same time. While you were having an internal crisis, Ari grabbed some paper towels and started cleaning you.

“Don’t feel ashamed. Your mother isn’t as fateful either. Once the divorce is finalized, I’m taking you with me.”

THE END

A/n: Hello, my strawberries! I hope this is good and congratulations on making it to 2025! Very special thanks to my proofreader @sagethegaywitch

Taglist: @buckyshusband0 @geminiflanagan69 @wolf-knights @sluttyhusband @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m @furiousflowercreation @spnfanboy777

[adalitas-coffeebreak-corner]

Something's gotten hold of my heart

Remus Lupin x Slytherin!fem!reader

A/n: This is my first time writing for Remus, but I hope you'll enjoy reading <3 word count: 3k

Warnings: Insults, swearing, grade A parenting from Walburga, bullying, arranged marriage, smoking, family trauma.

Remus falls in love with a girl he knows he can't have, because she belongs to his mate Sirius.

Or so he thinks.

It had been widely known since sixth year that Sirius Black and Y/n Y/l/n were engaged to be married once they both graduated Hogwarts.

Despite both children being raised as pureblood heirs by their respective families, they equally shared their disdain for the ideology, hence the secret friendship that had remained between the two since childhood. Every moment they could find an excuse to hide away from their family’s social gatherings, they would. The two of them always appreciated each other’s company, free from rules and judgement. Sirius had for many years been Y/n’s support, comforting her when the topic of marriage arose from her mother.

Her parents had told her when she turned eighteen years old, she would be given away to whomever they deemed fit. As luck would have it, on her seventeenth birthday her mother informed her they had chosen the eldest son from the noble house of Black. Y/n figured it to be a halfhearted attempt from Walburga trying to save the family name, because of her “unruly” son.

When the engagement was announced, Sirius was quick to promise Y/N a chance for them to run away as soon as the wedding was over, a new start for them to be free from their parents’ clutches.

“Is it gonna stay like this forever Siri?” Y/n mumbled into the smoke leaving her lips. The young girl was laying on her back with her head resting on Sirius’ lap. The boy chuckled as he plucked the cigarette from her hand and took a hit. “What part, love?” He retorted. She let out laugh, smacking him on his chest, “Everything, the parties, the awful rhetoric, the manners… Us”

They had stayed that way for an hour, comfortably hiding out in Sirius’ room, far away from prying ears.

She suddenly found the ceiling an interesting place to advert her gaze, swallowing the lump in her throat. The boy could sense the sudden stiffness of her muscles, noticing the way her eyes stayed fixed in one place, as if she awaited terrible news. He guessed her reaction was appropriate, considering the uncertainty of her question, and the fact that he might not be able to provide the peace of mind she’d want.

“I think once we’re married, we can do whatever we want. No more expectations or fear around every corner. I think we can be happy” His hand swiftly handing the cigarette back to her.

The muscles pulling at the corner of her lip betrayed her words “I think you’re getting sappy Black” sitting up, looking at her best friend.

“Can’t help it love” He smiled. Sirius had always been better, yet not good, at being more hopeful than her, a trait he knew came from his friendship with James.

His words of comfort later, when her father had dragged her out to the common area to socialize later that evening, had stuck with her.

“As soon as we’re married, we can move far away and live whatever life we choose. Until then we just have to keep up appearances”

When term started it felt like a ticking time bomb, no amount of homework or trips to Hogsmeade could soothe her inner turmoil. It also didn’t help Sirius had less time for their late-night hangouts, having gotten himself into a routine of common room parties and hookups, Y/n constantly getting questioned by Pandora and Dorcas about her opinion regarding her future husband’s escapades, which led to Y/n spending more of her time hanging out with Regulus, Barty and Evan.

Nothing about Sirius’ personal choices bothered her, it rather suited the young witch perfectly, considering her heart only belonged to a certain friend of Sirius’, the lanky bookworm, who always had an essence of kindness, coffee and cigarette smoke wherever he went. Of course she had no real expectation of marrying for love, so she kept up her façade and remained content knowing she had been bestowed the best possible outcome. Her days mostly just consisted of playing pretend, being the perfect daughter and student, keeping her opinions to herself, never showing anyone (except Sirius) her true colors.

Therefore Y/n kept her interactions with the marauders to a minimum, rather watching from the sidelines, than ending up being the target for their next prank, even though she knew Sirius wouldn’t let that happen, even though there would be questions. In the rest of the Gryffindor’s eyes, she was only a vain, pretentious pureblood, and through Slytherins eyes, Sirius was a fallen son not worthy of marrying a girl of her “status”.

It was an unexpectedly warm day in September, during the beginning of their sixth year, when all her hard work fell apart, the first time she was alone with Remus in the library. His voice was soft as he approached her, nervously starting a conversation about the muggle novelle she had hidden beneath layers of books. It only took him a couple of months to slowly break down her guard, their little conversations beginning to become a weekly delight. By December her heart was skipping a beat every time she saw him, every waking thought somehow maneuvered its way back to him.

He had become her safe space now that Sirius was mostly gone.

He was calmer than the rest of his housemates, a trait she rather adored about him, and he never asked any questions about her family, which in this case was very appreciated.

Why Remus had approached her that day, he couldn’t quite figure out, or at least that is what he told himself. Sirius had written to him during their break a few weeks prior confirming his engagement.  At first Remus was angry, he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Sirius had gotten caught up in old pureblood customs. So, when he spotted her in the library, Remus had almost felt inclined to walk over and scold her, but he knew deep within himself that the pureblood princess herself most likely wasn’t ecstatic about the engagement either. He had almost turned around completely before noticing a familiar book cover.

He hesitated for a couple of seconds, watching her fail at hiding a worn-out copy of The Bell jar by Sylvia Plath. Remus had read the bell jar once in a muggle library close to his home.

From that moment he was intrigued.

On one specific occasion when Remus and y/n had their conversations alone in the library, conversing about random schoolwork and literature, he realized his feelings towards her. It was an evening after winter break, the two had been talking for hours, something about it seeming so serene. Remus had been going on about a series of pranks the marauders had come up with, as of late, hoping to lure a reaction from the usually proper girl.

“You should’ve been there, I swear” He chuckled leaning forward, a glint of mischief in his muted eyes. “It was brilliant”

Y/n’s eyebrows lifted, seemingly intrigued. “Well then, go on Lupin” her silence afterwards encouraging him, and so he did. “Theres this bloke, a year above us, Ravenclaw right” He cleared his throat, hands lifting, extending the dramatic effect. “Last week we caught him bulling a second year Gryffindor, so we nicked his wand”

Her lips twitched, but she stayed silent, clearly skeptical.

“You stole his wand? Damn Lupin you’ve let me down-“

He leaned closer, continuing.

“That’s not the best part dove” Remus smirked recalling the memory. “Stealing the wand after quidditch practice was easy but switching it with a hexed liquorish wand was the real prank” Her expression faltered for a second, but she didn’t interrupt.

“So transfiguration rolls around, Davies is asked by McGonagall to perform owl to opera glasses, he starts and nothing happens, so he tries for five straight minutes until the wand goes soggy, I swear! He starts screaming and McGonagall’s just standing there staring at him, honestly thinking he’s going insane”

She had finally burst out laughing, and it was like a dam had broken. It was soft at first, then full and genuine. She leaned back against the chair, her laughter echoing through the usually empty library, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound. There it was—the sound he didn’t know he had been waiting for.

It was the first time he made her laugh out loud, and his heart almost exploded.

By the time March rolled around he realized he was in love with her. They had been standing by one of the bookshelves when their hands accidentally touched, and instantly he was a goner. But she was marrying Sirius, so instead of giving in, he kept their interactions hidden deep down and locked away together with his feelings for her.

And so, as the seventh-year starts, everything remained the same, except the heart of one Remus Lupin had been completely and utterly shattered.

"Moony, what's the matter?" Peter questions softly, the lanky boy hunched over his dinner plate in the great hall, looking positively destroyed. Before his "cleverly" thought out excuse, just the usual moon stuff, could leave his lips, James decides to chime in, almost on cue, the universe's cruel joke.

"Oi, Pads how does it feel to be the husband of the second fittest bird in our year?" James erupts, tilting his entire body towards the long-haired boy sitting to his left. "Only second to my Lily flower of course" he smirks, whipping his face equally fast to his right side, where he is met with the biggest eyeroll from Lily.

"We are not married yet Prongs" Sirius protests with a slight frown.

If they were to keep up the illusion, Y/N had to keep the appearances of a typical Slytherin, for the sake of her family name. Sirius therefore didn’t express much fondness for the girl, considering the confusion that would arise on behalf of his friends.

And most importantly, no one could know the truth, not even the marauders. James makes a face as he whistled. "Well, at least she's not your cousin" Sirius cringes, although it was true that he was almost promised away to own cousin, before the Y/l/n's promised away their golden child. He regrets telling that story to James.

Remus can’t help but tense his jaw, his grip on the utensils tightening. Yes, he know the rumors of the Y/l/n family being heinous purebloods, but that still didn't stop his heart from skipping a beat when Y/n walks into his line of sight. In his mind Y/n simply cannot be the monster many think her to be, not a monster like him, anyways. He shrugs the last thought out of his head.

He at least has the rest of the year to get used to the thought of his best mate getting married to the most beautiful, talented, intelligent- "Wretched is what she is" Sirius huffed, snapping Remus out of his thoughts, clearly having lost the last minute of their conversation. "Sirius, be nice to her, you are engaged after all" Lily pleads.

 The redheaded girl has been partial to the Slytherin ever since second year, where Y/n set fire to Barty Jr.'s cape for calling Lily a mudblood. Of course, Y/n played it off nonchalantly, but Lily could sense an anger behind her eyes at Barty's comment. "Yeah, Pads if you hate her so much, why don't you break it off?" Remus adds sharply, making the group turn towards him.

Sirius secretly hopes no one notice the guilt behind his cold facade. Speaking ill of his childhood friend never came to him easily. "Surely you haven't understood the concept of an arranged marriage dear Moony. Now, let’s drop it before I lose my appetite" he quickly responds, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth, before changing the subject.

 .................

 Later that week, Remus has defense against the dark arts with the rest of the marauders. They are all heading down the naturally lit stone-built corridors when a loud smack echoes through the halls. The boys quickly gauge each other’s reactions before hurrying towards the sound, the scene in front of them making their jaws drop. Daniel, a particularly annoying Slytherin, is holding a hand to his, very red cheek, Y/n standing staring daggers at him. It takes all Sirius' strength to not run over and interfere, however Remus is already storming towards the pair, James lets out a yelp as he tries gripping Moony's uniform to pull him back.

 The small crowd of students mostly looked baffled, but the faces of most students adorning green look appalled. Daniel mutters something under his breath, until his gaze finds Sirius'. "Good luck with this one Black, a bloodtraitor and a tempestuous whore, surely a match made in heaven" he shrieks and storms off, the rest of the Slytherin crowd following hot in his heels, except for Dorcas, Barty (who just mostly enjoys the drama) and Regulus who stay behind looking between Y/n and Sirius.

It feels like an eternity for Sirius, standing there opening and closing his mouth, like a fish out of water, before y/n nods towards the younger Black, the four of them making their way up the stairs.

 "What the hell just happened?" Peter question, searching for any kind of answer. "My thoughts exactly, Wormtail" James add.

Remus' heart is beating exceptionally fast when the four of them stop at the door leading into the classroom, as their gazes find Y/n sitting next to Regulus who is gently holding her hand beneath the table. There is an air of comfort to his touch that Remus does not like. Apparently, he isn't the only one who noticed. Sirius looks uncharacteristically anxious at the sight of his younger brother and his fiancé.

Remus can’t quite understand Padfoot’s inner turmoil, getting jealous over the one person he supposedly can't stand? Remus can't figure out why it hurts him more, thinking Sirius after all, maybe doesn’t hate her as much as he previously thought. As the teacher comes down the stairs urging the students to open their books to page 119, they quickly take their usual spots at the back, except James who hurries up to sit next to Lily in the second row. Once the bell rings, Remus stays back, taking his time packing his books away into his satchel.

Y/n is still sitting where Regulus left her, looking deep in thought, while the teacher scolds her, taking away 20 points from Slytherin for punching another student. Daniel must’ve already snitched. Remus can only focus on the most perfect little crease adorning her face, right over her left brow. After the teacher leaves, he makes his way over. "It was some punch you threw; I- I mean I only saw the aftermath, but I assum-" "Why, are you talking to me Lupin?" She shoots back so quickly, Remus gets startled, adverting his eyes to the ground.

Looking back up at her, he mentally prepares himself for her wrath, but finds no fury or judgement in her eyes, she just looks.. sad.

It is almost like she hadn't even registered her own answer.

Three hours earlier...

"C'mon Y/l/n, we are going to be late for class!" Regulus yelled into the Slytherin common room, where y/n was seated next to Dorcas. The two Slytherins exchanged an amused glance. "You heard him minx, let’s get you to class" Dorcas sighed, getting up and dragging y/n with her. She let out a huff and smoothed out her uniform with one hand, while getting dragged by the other.

The friends met up with the rest of the group in the courtyard, Regulus now directing his sternness towards Barty, Evan and a couple of other classmates, finding his place on the ledge of the fountain. Barty Jr. smirked as he saw y/n, his eyebrows darting up behind his sunglasses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before smugly muttering "So, how long until we have to mourn your union with the bloodtraitor y/l/n?”

She rolled her eyes, while the others laughed, moving ever so elegantly to sit down next to Regulus.

Regulus knew about Y/n and Sirius’ agreement, making him partially fond of his older brother for protecting someone he deemed a friend. Y/n had to tell him, for when the engagement was announced in Grimmauld place, Regulus refused to talk to her for about a week, thinking he would lose her, just like he lost Sirius. Dorcas shot Y/n a look, however her eyes stayed firmly trained on Barty, who had gotten comfy on his boyfriend’s lap. "As soon as seventh year ends Jr., why? Have you not gotten your invitation yet?" Y/n bit her lip, eyes sparkling as she watched Barty pushing the sunglasses down his nose, a slight smirk hiding the annoyance in his eyes as the rest of the group laughed, even Regulus seeming amused.

Y/n had to be careful around her classmates, answers well calculated, and most importantly contain a slight bit of contempt for Sirius, yet not enough for her parents to call off the wedding. Feeling total numbness in the presence of Barty jr, Evan, Daniel and even Severus, helped her a lot, even though their comments had hurt her the first couple of times, she reminded herself that beyond Hogwarts there was a world for her, where she could live free of the hate and judgement that followed most wizards.

The group started making their way to class, Y/n giggling at something Evan said, keeping her façade perfectly intact, a stark contrast to the buzzing in her head, and the fastness of her heartbeat.

"I can't wait to see what’s going to happen with Black; I mean do we really expect that ceremony to go smoothly?" Severus mocked, making Daniel cry out a laugh.

 You can do this Y/l/n, Just breathe, empty your head..

Fate had different plans, as the next sentence that left Daniel made her blood boil and her hands clench. "Look on the bright side Severus, at least you’re not the one marrying a good for nothing bloodtraitor, in my opinion pretty boy should just do Y/n a favor and jump from the astronomy tower, maybe his dimwits friends would follow alon-" Regulus' eyes widened, everything happening before he could interfere. Her hand almost cracked at the force behind her throw, sending Daniel's face flying backwards before one of the columns stopped his momentum, doing nothing to soften the blow.

 ..................

"It was some punch you threw, I- I mean I only saw the aftermath, but I assum-"

"Why, are you talking to me Lupin?" The words leave her before she has a chance to think.

Punching Daniel will surely come back to bite her in the ass, the realization dawning on her, she feels the heaviness of having to do damage control. All because of her stupid compassion towards Sirius and these stupid feelings towards his handsome friend- "I don't know, I guess I just wanted to make sure you are okay" the concern in his eyes almost make her break. Growing up in Y/l/n manor empathy was a foreign word and crying meant weakness.

 There was so much she had to unlearn with the help of Sirius. The raven-haired boy had just gotten out of the same toxic situation himself, moving in with the Potters over the summer causing an uproar from his family, despite Walburga's intent on keeping up appearances. Y/n had never seen Sirius as happy as that day, where he told her he had escaped. Of course, there were days of despair and guilt for leaving Regulus in that foul house, but it did consol the boy knowing Y/n kept tabs on the younger brother. "I’m fine" she hisses, finally packing up her books. "You don't seem fine" Remus challenges, making her freeze.

The classroom seems a lot smaller than it was a few minutes ago, and her bag feels heavier than usual. Her hands keeps fidgeting with the tabletop, every muscle in her body feeling tight as she tries to think of a response, coming up empty handed. Instead, she settles for staring at the bruise on her knuckles. After what felt like an eternity Remus' hand comes into her field of vision, gently covering hers in his, her eyes snaps up and her breath hitch.

He is so close to her; she’s almost afraid he can hear the effect of it on her heartbeat. She tries swallowing the lump in her throat, but the whirlwind of emotions, and the warmth of Remus keeps her from speaking. "I don't know why you punched him, but I am sure he deserved it" He mutters reassuringly, looking over her features as he continues explaining "but I also want to make sure you are okay-" "it's none of your business Lupin" she whispers, her small voice betraying her words.

He lets out a simple sigh, the air from his lungs tingling her lips, reminding her just how little space there is between their faces, she can easily close the space between them if she shifts her weight to the front of her feet, moving her head up to- "You're right, it's none of my business, I’m sorry for bothering you” Remus turns around, feeling slightly rejected.

[dollypopup]

I truly cannot overstate just how much I adore Colin Bridgerton as a male love lead, and how important his story is, in particular in a current, modern reading. We live in a time of alpha male machismo that in many ways mirrors the sexism of the historical time period Colin is in, and we have a hero who explicitly rejects it. More than that, we have a hero who first tries on the persona, first tries to fit in, and then determines, with no outside influence and all on his own, that it's wrong. That he doesn't want to be like the men of his society, that he doesn't like the expectation of sex without love and commitment and connection, that he doesn't want to be 'one of the boys', even if it comes at their derision.

Because when Violet says he has always been her most sensitive child, when he has always considered others before himself, when he has always offered a joke or a moment of levity- for so long, he felt he had to. That there was no other choice.

Colin Bridgerton, The Great Pretender, is finally coming into the light.

Take my hand. Come walk with me.

Colin's arc is incredibly clear, and incredibly dear to me. We can track his progress throughout the seasons he has been in, but if we consider his backstory, it comes even more in clarity.

Piecing together a timeline with some influence from the books and loose historical accuracy, Colin loses his father at 12 and then is sent off to Eton. And he is a tiny thing when his father passes, shorter even than his 9 year old sister, Eloise.

(Yes, I checked!! He's half a head shorter than Eloise, and an entire head shorter than Daphne. This boy is SMALL)

So it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the start of his fake-it-to-make-it personality. He cannot grieve with his family in these circumstances, he's been sent off to school with other boys who are bigger and stronger than him, and he must realize relatively quickly that weakness in their eyes will never be tolerated. In fact, Eton was well known for corporal punishment and bullying during this time. Older boys were well known to mistreat the younger once, and considering just how small and soft-hearted Colin is, and just how vulnerable he is having lost his father-

Of course Colin would become a target of such.

And despite that, we meet him in Season 1 with an endearing earnestness and hopefulness in the world. Something inside him, something sweet and gentle and warm, thrives to live. And fights against grief to do so. How easy it would have been for him to lose his father and be bitter. How easy for him to see his father die from the steps of Aubrey Hall, to be sent to a boarding school away, and withdraw in on himself.

And yet, he doesn't.

At least, not in the way one would suspect. Instead, Colin becomes a chronic people pleaser. If the people around him are happy, then he will be safe. Will not be hurt. And they have no space for his own hurt, regardless. There's hardly even any space for his mirth, as most people didn't even reply to his letters on his travels the previous season.

In Colin's confession in Season 3, he says 'I have spent so long trying to feel less', and this numbing begins early in his life. He's a consummate gentleman in Season 1. He does everything by the book, everything as he should. He wants to be accepted in his society, wants to be taken seriously, wants to belong. So he sees a pretty woman, and he gets along with her well enough, and he courts her. Openly, honestly, in full view. It isn't a heart-stopping love, but he has numbed himself for years at this point, so affection will do, and if proper men of his society are married, well, maybe he'd finally be taken seriously.

And yet, no one notices him, even still. No one except Penelope. His own mother doesn't recognize his behavior, and worries for him after she does. How long has it been since she's actually seen him? We know from the show that he's incredibly close to his mother, and loves her dearly, but we also know that after Edmund's passing, Violet was mired in grief and post-partum depression. Colin misses much of this as a firsthand witness since he's at school, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be affected by losing his mother and father in one fell swoop. In fact, Colin loses his connection to the majority of his family in being sent to school so soon after the tragedy. So of course he comes back and he tries not to make waves. Tries to do things correctly.

His friction with Anthony proves time and time again that nothing he does is entirely ever able to fully please him, and this causes contention in their brotherly bond. Of all the siblings, Anthony is arguably the most harsh with Colin. And he is also the model for who a man should be in the family, as the head of the family.

So when Anthony sees Colin earnestly try to marry, he scoffs him off. Accuses Colin of only wanting to marry to have sex, and then claiming "It is my fault. I should have taken you to brothels." This is the first on-screen shaming of Colin looking for connection before sex, and Colin doubles down. He wants to marry for love.

But he doesn't actually love Marina. Neither of them truly know each other, and so when it all blows up, and he is humiliated to the entirety of his community, Colin gets his first taste of romantic failure. He tried to do it right, and it ended more wrong than he could have ever imagined. So, maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he is just a foolish, green boy, who has no idea how to go about things. The fallout of his failed engagement echoes in the persona he puts on in Season 3, and the choices he undergoes during them. Is it any wonder he ends up going to brothels to have unfulfilling sex if even his own BROTHER, the head of his family, tells him to do so?

It doesn't happen right away, though. Despite the fact that no one truly checks on him or sees how this breakup effects him (Eloise dismisses the hurt he must feel in light of such events with an honestly rather accurate wave-away "Men are always less affected", and that is true), it is evident that he is NOT okay.

We leave Colin in Season 1 putting on a mask, a happy face to his family, a 'you inspired me' to Penelope, and then spends his travels sad. Depressed. Taking drugs to try to ease his mind, occupying himself with writing to Penelope. In Season 2, he spends the entirety of it trying to be useful. And he does this with Penelope. He feels deeply for her, he cares so much for her, and he even says it to her aloud 'You are special to me' and 'I will always look after you' and how he could never give her up. Season 2 is a season of healing for Colin- he closes his chapter with Marina with a relationship post-mortum conversation after he does a wellness check to make sure she's alive (let's be real here, no one else was going to reach out to her. She made it clear to him that even her own father didn't want her), makes amends with Will, proves himself useful to Penelope, and departs on a high: he thinks he threaded the needle. He thinks he was successful sending Jack off, that he made Penelope happy, and that he's in with The Boys.

But whilst the person he is around Penelope is genuine, the person he is around these men are not. We know from Season 3 that they don't actually like him. They make snide, underhanded comments toward him, and laugh at him. I stand by the idea that end of season 2 is Fife and Co. laughing at Penelope AND laughing at Colin. They don't care about their friendship, they're teasing him for caring about her so openly, and Colin is protective of the relationship he has with Penelope. So he makes a comment for the boys, and puts on his mask. 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' (look, I'm just like you. I walk like you, talk like you, speak like you) 'Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife' (I am one of you one of you one of you- so why does it feel so hollow?)

He gets, now, his first taste of acceptance from them. They come to him to Mondrich's bar, he repays his slight against him, and he feels he is one of them. (Does he truly *want* to be one of them?) And so when we open Season 3, it's a smooth progression.

Colin is walking the walk and talking the talk, and yet his heart isn't in it. He's not one of these smarmy men, but he mimics them. Their behavior. In part, at least. Whilst Fife is out preying on 18 year old women in coat closets, Colin is telling gaggles of girls how pretty they are and how with such nice dresses, they're sure to find a husband. He makes it clear he's not an option, but that he doesn't mind being a fantasy. And Luke Newton does an amazing job making that clear: there are three sides of Colin. The Colin portrayed to his society in the light in good company (1) and the Colin portrayed to his society in the dark, in. . .less savory circles (aka: The Lads)(2), his 'armor' as his mum calls it. And finally, the most important but the one kept closest to the chest: the Colin of truth. The Colin who cries alone in his room after a breakup, the Colin who doesn't burden others with his feelings, the Colin who writes to Penelope, the Colin who loves deeply and feels deeply.

But his society has no use for a man like the real Colin, they do not *want* a man like real Colin, so he puts it under lock and key. And so much of this is centered around his feelings about sex, so here comes my 'Colin is Queer' soapbox. Colin does not experience sexual attraction like the rest of the men of the ton. He is expected to find it casual and be cavalier about it. To just want to fuck for the sake of fucking. But Colin needs love and romance and connection to actually enjoy sexual interactions. Nowadays, we recognize this as being on the asexual spectrum, of being demisexual, but he didn't have words for that in the time period he's in, so he has to forge ahead to figure himself out without a community identity to find solidarity with. That's what makes the brothel scenes so interesting as a narrative device: in the first, he's masking even in the midst of it, and in the second, he can't. After kissing Penelope, he finally, for the first time in his life, has a sexual interaction that means something to him.

It's the first one he truly enjoys, and the first one that feels right to him. It clicks for him that oh, that's what it's meant to be like. And the strain of that realization whilst still having to be what his society expects of him puts immense stress on his shoulders. You see how he grows more and more uncomfortable about the conversations, until finally he rejects it outright.

Even when it's very much not encouraged for him to do so. He's even told "You are much more fun this season." That's why he hides himself. From near everyone, even his family, even his brothers. It's telling how Anthony's positive interaction with Colin is when they're at the club, and Anthony praises him for his most recent attention. Have we seen much of Anthony being proud of Colin, otherwise? Not really. So he's reinforced in his persona. Doesn't boast of his travels because it didn't have anyone liking him for it, before. Doesn't even say how many cities he's gone to. Except with Penelope.

In the books, there's a line about their kiss, referencing how his world will never be the same. And it won't be. Because when Colin says that she helps him see the world in new ways, it's in a multitude of meanings.

Penelope refuses to let him wear the mask, because in truth, Penelope is the only one who doesn't like it. Not only does she see the real Colin, but she enjoys the real Colin. Whilst everyone else is simpering over Colin's new look and attitude, rejects who he is in reality, Penelope dismisses it, wants the person she knows him to be instead. It's only when he strips down the facades that Penelope allows him into her life again. And her Whistledown article was harsh, but it was also true. He *is* masking. He *is* putting on a persona and a role. But she was wrong when she asked if Colin even knows which is real: Colin knows very well which is real. And he also knows the realities of him haven't been accepted.

When Colin tells Penelope charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. When he says 'living for the expectations of others is a trap' it is because he has already fallen into it, and if he can't dig himself out, maybe he can keep her from it. Colin tells her 'you do not need lessons' and that she is fine exactly as she is, because just as she sees the real him and loves him, he sees the real her, and loves her, too. But they both live in the constraints of their society, and so they both put on the masquerade. Even sometimes to hide from each other.

The current climax of his arc is when he's out with the lads, after they all go off to the brothel again, and he disassociates from the experience. Playing cards and insisting on sharing sexual exploits, to which he does not want to take part, and makes a lighthearted dig at them. 'There is no gentleman at this table'. He includes himself in that, and then clarifies. He speaks aloud for the first time to them the truth of his heart- 'Do you not ever tire of the expectation to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning? Do you not find it lonely?' Can it really only just be him?

And it is. Or, maybe it isn't, but the rest of them aren't brave enough to admit it, so they're okay in making him feel like it is, in outcasting him for being a romantic, for caring about a woman beyond what she can provide for him sexually. Colin professes he doesn't like who he's become, doesn't like the expectations for him to behave the way he has, and they laugh at him. Again. He is made fun of, again.

He goes home and he falls in his bed and he feels like he lost it all. Lost Penelope to his own advice, and lost his newfound shine in his community. But when he's faced with which one matters more to him, he chooses Penelope. Unhesitatingly.

Colin chooses to be sensitive. He chooses to be a warm-hearted, gentle man in a society that prefers sexist machismo. Act one way in the light and another in the shadows. Colin wants to live authentically, as a man he doesn't really have a role model for. He is brave and he is tender, he sees the sexism of his society and he rejects it. He sees the importance Penelope has in his life, the way she makes him feel, and he embraces her wholeheartedly. He wants love and romance, he wants connection and meaning.

Colin, The Great Pretender, sick of pretending. Colin, walking into that ballroom and giving Fife the cut direct when he invites him out. Colin, cutting into a dance in the middle of a ball between Penelope and a man the entire city knows is about to propose. Colin staring deeply into her eyes with such unfiltered longing even *Cressida* can't help but notice what's going on. Colin running off after Penelope in full view of his society, outrunning a *carriage* to see her. Begging her to let him in. Colin on his knees, all but flaying his chest open for Penelope to see his heart. Colin made a choice when that candle flickered out, and his choice was Penelope. His choice was himself. And his choice was to flip off societal expectation and to live for love, damn the consequences.

I think our own world would be a better place if modern men took his example, too. Colin Bridgerton as male love lead in Bridgerton, a global show, is such a refreshing, wonderful example. A man who tried to be like what the world wanted, and who decided to go against the gender norms of his time. A man who prioritizes the woman he loves, who risks ridicule in doing so and comes to realize that he doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore about being one of the boys, one of the lads, one of the guys. Fuck his society if his society can't recognize the beauty of what he feels with Pen. He cares about being the best self he can be. And that best self is around Penelope, inspired by Penelope.

Because how he is with Penelope? God, I could swoon. At every turn, he prioritizes her comfort and personhood. He validates her, he sees her in beautiful, positive light and he helps her see herself that way, too. He encourages her to be brave because he already feels she is, he refuses to let her call herself stupid or a laughingstock, he apologizes without excuses, he checks in on her every step of the way. He's so passionate in that carriage, he's burning for her, he's yearning, but he doesn't do anything until she agrees for him to. He confesses his feelings and when she says they're friends, he backs off. He listens, he cares. He apologizes for overstepping her boundaries, and then when she gives him her consent, the only thing on his mind is showing how much he wants and appreciates her by providing her pleasure. Colin, the people pleaser, dedicated only to pleasing two people in that moment: Penelope, and himself. Because he wants to do that, to give her an orgasm that exists just for her. He's a witness to it, and that's pleasure for him, too. He waits for her nod of consent, he revels in seeing her enjoying herself. And the aftercare- I could cry.

Colin is a man who had every single reason not to be a kind, sensitive soul, and still he chose it. Chose to share it because the headline, even a wallflower can bloom, that's not just for Penelope.

It's for Colin, too.