#this is the first time I’ve drawn him how is this possible

[warrioreowynofrohan]

@bethanydelleman Here are my musings on the question I asked – I was thinking more in terms of which characters could like and respect each other and how well their personalities would mesh, more than their likelihood of necessarily falling deeply in love. Mr. Knightly does deeply respect and admire Jane Fairfax, though he isn’t in love with her, and many of the people I’ve shipped with him (Elinor, Fanny, Jane Bennet) have personalities similar to hers.

Who Else Could Austen Characters Marry?

If Austen characters didn’t marry their canon spouse, who else would they be good with?

Elinor Dashwood: I think she mostly values a man who has sense and principle, from what we see of Edward Ferrars, and who doesn’t stand too much on dignity. I think she could be happy with either Mr. Knightley or Edmund Bertram, and they could be happy with her.

Marianne Dashwood: I could see her and Wentworth falling for each other. They’re both passionate and romantic, and for most of the time between his breach with Anne and the midpoint of Persuasion Wentworth wants a woman who is firm and determined in her opinions, decisions, and loves, which is definitely Marianne! I think this would lead to both of them being somewhat less mature than they end up in canon – they’d reinforce each other’s impulsiveness and passion, and they might also have some trouble budgeting – but on the whole it would work. Marianne would have a lot of trouble keeping it together when he was away at sea, or might decide to go with him on his ship.

Jane Bennet: Jane’s kind and generous of spirit, I think she would like any warm, personable, and good man. Mr. Knightley is again a good choice.

Elizabeth Bennet: I could see her with either Mr. Knightley – she and Emma have the same liveliness and some of the same flaws of over-trust in their judgement, and I think he’d be good for her and they would be happy, as he has all Darcy’s good points without the haughtiness – or with Henry Tilney. In the case of Henry Tilney, I think that (like Wentworth and Marianne) they’d both end up less mature than they do in canon: Elizabeth and Henry would both reinforce each other’s satirical tendencies, rather than them being leavened by Catherine’s innocence in one case and Darcy’s stability in the other. But they would be happy, and make a good deal of sport of their neighbours.

Another possibility – I don’t know how well it would work out, but I could see it happening – is her and Henry Crawford. He’s intelligently, lively, active, with a lot of ideas, and I think that would appeal to her. She was initially drawn to Wickham, after all, and Crawford his his charm along with more intelligence. Would Henry Crawford fall for her or just leave her “crossed in love”? If the latter – she’s pretty resilient and I think she’d get over it. If the former, I’m not sure how it would turn out.

Fanny Price: I’m being repetitive, but I do want her with Mr Knighley, she deserves him and he would be kind to her and she’d be, honestly, a really good Lady Bountiful with the capacity for helping those around her that his estate gives, and with the support of a husband who is thoroughly and non-ostentatiously charitable himself. Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax is my fanon ship, but honestly this is even better.

Emma Woodhouse: This is more difficult, especially as I don’t think there’s anyone but Mr. Knightley who would be willing to move into her house with her father and be as patient with Mr. Woodhouse as Mr. Knightley is. But she’s also the Austen heroine I can see as the most happily single – she’s independently wealthy, and even when she realizes her feelinfs for Mr. Knightley it’s more about not being superceded and excluded from his confidence (“being first with Mr. Knightley”) as anything romantic. Her level of happiness would somewhat depend on who else Me. Knightley married – I feel like she and Elizabeth would get on like two cats.

Jane Fairfax: Bingley has Frank Churchill’s liveliness and friendliness amd is, I think, a better person; they could be happy. Caroline Bingley would be so mad about him marrying a governess, though, so that would give Jane a harder time.

Anne Elliot: It’s hard to tell with her. Would she ever love anyone but Wentworth? She turned down Charles Musgrove, who’s a good guy on the whole and personable, probably because she was still in love. She and Colonel Brandon, who are both older and have lost loves (and he’s a military man as well) might bond and make a match of it.

Catherine Morland: The main challenge here is how young she is (17) compared to most of the male leads. She could be happy with a lot of different people (Edward Ferrars? Bingley?).

I’m finding it more difficult to work out who else would be a good match for some of the men. For example, Darcy: there’s no one else with quite Elizabeth’s combination of liveliness, defiance, intelligence, and goodness, that would have the defiance and fire to deflate his pride and make him reconsider his attitude, the wit to make him take himself less seriously, and the boldness not to be intimidated by his haughty reserve. I do not think he and Fanny Price (a pairing I have seen suggested) would work at all – he might feel compassion towards her, but if Elizabeth’s family are embarassing, Fanny’s are not even genteel: he’d never lower himself so far as to marry her. And if he did, the girl who’s browbeaten by Mrs. Norris would be ready to sink into the floorboards at the contempt of Lady Catherine.

[wrathofrats]

Happy Valentine’s Day! Have a Dewther observatory date (:

800 words, SFW, dew and aether visit omegas old observatory

Dew kicked a rock along the dirt path, watching it get lost between the overgrown blades of grass. This part of the ministry had an abandoned charm to it. Vines crawling up cracked brick, moss growing on pillars as if they hadn’t been touched by another person in years. Somewhere behind secondos chapel, meant to be a courtyard or a garden of sorts but slowly over grew its manicured beauty into something no one bothered to tame anymore.

“How did you even find this?” Dew grabbed at a leaf, leaving a small singed hole in it before turning to look at aether.

“Omega showed me early when I was summoned, said it was alphas favorite place to catch a breath of air when secondo was still alive” there were small burn marks in the wood of a bench, A+O, with a heart around it. Surely decades old, but it made aether smile knowing how long the two had been in love. Something warm and hopeful flicking at his stomach.

“Doesn’t that hot head hate when we mess with his stuff? I don’t feel like cleaning out chimneys again”

“Omega gave me permission, besides, we aren’t messing with secondos courtyard. There’s something I want to show you”

There was a small cylindrical building with a rounded top in a clearing. Grey stones plastered together and rusted metal to form what looked like a gazebo, complete with a teal oxidized copper dome. It had hand built imperfections, charming in its own sense knowing it must have been someone's passion project.

“It’s an observatory. When omega retired, Earth helped him build it. He spent his nights looking at the stars when Alpha was practicing for tour. He showed it to me when I was first summoned, a quiet place to get to know me as his protege” Aether opened the door with a loud whine from the rusty hinges. It was barely big enough for the two of them. A large telescope in the center, surrounded by cables and gears. A small bookshelf was built into the wall filled with old books about the stars and journals with hand drawn star maps.

The eye piece was a couple inches taller than aether, the perfect height for omega to look through comfortably. Aether grabbed at one of the knobs on the stand and lowered it until it was a bit shorter than he was.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” Dew grabbed the eye piece as aether cranked the roof open.

“Thought it would be nice to have some time just for us. Omega still visits but otherwise it would just be ours. I’ve needed someone else to share it with”

Bright dots twinkled along the inky black sky. Some shimmered more white or blue, others leaning warm and orange. Aether grabbed one of the journals, flipping the pages and squinting up at the stars to match up the map.

“Jupiters out tonight, aim it up a bit” aether twisted a couple things, making the image bigger and brighter until a large sphere was in dews view.

“Holy shit” he had seen different images online and in books, but there was something awe inspiring about seeing it through a simple lense. An orange hue along with the distinct lines, one of its moons shining alongside it. He pulled away to grab aether, making him look through it too.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Aether laughed, taking his time to try and refine what he was seeing.

“Yeah, didnt know this was even possible. Or at least in the ministry” dew watched the telescope move, surveying the different stars now that they weren’t magnified in front of him, “why did you bring me here?”

“I love you, thought this would be even better if you could see it too”

Dew stared at aether, the smile on his lips from being able to look at the planets. It was better than the sky if he was being honest. He would move heaven and earth to make aether happy, and if indulging in his secret hobby was enough to have him giddy then dew would gladly live in the small building forever.

“Uranus is out as well, just a bit under Jupiter if you wanted to see it”

“Well i was hoping to see Uranus anyways tonight-“

“Dew”

They giggled together, aether wrapping himself behind dew as they moved the telescope together, observing the night sky until the sun started to rise.

The door of the observatory shut with a protest, aether using all his weight to force it closed again. Before the could exit the courtyard dew stopped at the small bench, burning A+D into it with a badly drawn heart.

[doomwitctheories]

YOU and HIM - Upbringing Theory

DISCLAIMER:

YOU and HIM is an +18 visual novel. Therefore, minors, don't interact.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

Religious trauma. (SA) Sexual abuse. Sexism. Helicopter parenting. Censorship. Domestic abuse. Suicide. Murder and violence.

I finally have some spare time to write this theory down. And by that I mean, I don’t really have the time, but I need some dopamine to start the tasks I actually need to be doing and what better way to do so than getting on this side quest that I’ve delayed for so long. Specially since chapter 3 is currently on the making.

The following post is a long theory regarding Adam’s childhood and upbringing.

Since YOU and HIM aims to be somewhat realistic, I will consider facts from the real world as valid evidence to support some of the ideas drawn here.

Please check the trigger warnings before continuing.

Great! Since I’m awful with introductions, let’s start from the beginning: what we know from the game dialogue directly.

When YOU first meet Adam, YOU mention both his parents in a teasing manner in an attempt to keep the killer talking, and he immediately gets defensive about his mom specifically.

YOU: A Christmas present for your dear ol’ mom and dad then?

Adam: Don’t talk about my mother.

That alone lets us know his mother is a sensitive topic for him. Some theorize Adam hate his mom and that’s the reason behind his visceral reaction to your comment and the terrifying nature of his nightmares. Even though that’s a possibility, I disagree. 

His line sounds as a warning to me. “Watch your mouth, don't you dare disrespect my mother.” To back this interpretation, we have this image from the official Twitter account and this old tumblr post that narrates how Adam and his mother once took care of an injured crow. 

(Art belongs to @YOUandHIM_GAME on twitter)

So then, why does Adam remember his mom as this demonic ghost that haunts his nightmares? Well, because, as we’ll explore later, her mom was traumatized and perceived men’s sexual nature as something intrinsically damaging. She probably taught him this, directly or indirectly (with her actions and reactions), in hopes to guide and/or protect him, without realizing she was demonizing and shaming a natural side of his son. When Adam feels like he’s failing her memory and his promise, her mother appears in front of him, enraged and disappointed, a reflection of what he’s internalized about himself. But this doesn’t delete the fact he holds his mother dear to his heart. I doubt he would wear her pendant otherwise, even if it’s upside down.

On the other hand, he willingly shares some useful information about his father. YOU ask five questions, to which he replies shortly. Let’s examine them in order.

YOU: Does he snore like a boar?

Adam: No.

I would say this first reply is unimportant, but you never know.

YOU: Did he play catch with you as a kid?

Adam: No.

YOU: Does he make corny dad jokes?

Adam: No.

Adam’s father (who we’ll be referring to as Larry from now on) is clearly on the serious side. This lack of regard for fun and leisure may have conditioned Adam to mature early, ditch games and/or toys and focus primarily on studying and whatever chores were expected or him.

This could be subconscious (a very busy parent doesn’t care or give importance to play, so the child internalizes this and matures early in search of approval or attention) or indoctrinated directly (his father punished or was critical/controlling of his playtime).

YOU: Does he barbecue and watch football on Sundays?

Adam: Yes.

YOU: What does he do for a living?

Adam: he’s a preacher for my hometown church back in Tennessee.

Alright. Now we know his father was a Christian, but this alone isn’t enough to determine his belief-system, since there’s a broad variety of Christian denominations.

After some research, I believe Adam’s hometown church probably falls under the baptist denomination, based on:

The word “preacher”: this term is commonly used in protestant denominations.

Tennessee demographics: In 2014, the statistics for religious affiliation in Tennessee show the large majority of the population falls under Evangelical Protestantism. Baptism falls under this umbrella.

Lastly, according to wikipedia, Southern Baptist churches have historically had a significant and widespread presence in Tennessee. The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) is one of the largest Protestant denominations in the United States, and it has numerous congregations across Tennessee.

This religious oriented lifestyle relates to his father’s reported activity specifically on Sundays. He probably gathered with other church members after preaching.

Now let’s take a look at what we know about Clarissa: Adam’s mom. Let’s start with the old picture Aunt Ruth keeps like a treasure and the memories and impressions it elicits.

Ruth’s POV: The one where she’s in front of her old church the day after her high school graduation. [...] Back in those days, everything was sorted into neat little boxes and anything that stood outside of it was a menace to society. And those ideals matched that of her friends perfectly. So much so, her mother used to tease the six of them about being a hive mind.

YOUr POV: He presents you with a picture of your aunt and four other women. [...] You take your time studying the photo, when something about the woman positioned at the far left of the group [...] captures your attention. While the rest of the women laugh openly, hers conveys a distinct shyness. Almost as if she doesn’t want the others to notice. [...] She’s model-pretty. Distinguishable within any crowd, much like the rest of her friends. [...] and notice how her arms aren’t linked with the others.

Even tho this isn’t directly stated, we can guess from the looks of the women in the picture they're all related to CAKE. I suspect, Adam’s mom, Ethan’s relative, aunt Ruth, King’s relative and Cain’s relative.

From this paragraph, we can presume that the five women in the picture shared strict religious beliefs, and were weary and distrusting of outside sources. They live in a small world with no room for doubt or discussion, which lead them to unhealthy black and white thinking, even if at the time they weren’t aware because they were able to deny and disown the parts of themselves that opposed their ideals.

We get a glimpse of Clarissa’s personality. Shy, too unsure to reach out and link her arms with the rest of her friends. Maybe on the submissive side, the type to never talk back, keep her voice down and avoid conflict.

Ruth’s POV: His cross earring glints in the light, capturing Ruth’s full attention. [...] She knows that earring. But she hasn’t seen it since the unfortunate news about Clarissa came out, and back then it wasn’t an earring. In fact, it was a pendant that belonged on a necklace. A gift she gave to Clarissa for her birthday so many odd years ago.

Ruth’s POV: [...] with the face of the woman she once cared for. With the face of her first love.

We now know Adam’s famous earring is actually a pendant Ruth gifted Clarissa, Adam’s mom, back in high school (since she wears it in her graduation picture). 

We know that something unfortunate happened to Clarissa, and now she’s gone. It’s heavily implied she passed away. After that, Adam retrieved the pendant and turned it into an earring.

Adam’s dream sequence: Frantic black lettering bleeds through the paper as if the author was running out of time and scribbled down what they could. [...] Red drips onto the paper from above. [...]

Adam’s POV: 

A memory flickers like a candle wick, one of murky red water and the drip of a bathroom sink and-

Remember what I told you when we first met? [...] Recalling a memory of pink tinted water spilling over the lip of a bathroom tub, the water sloshing against his torn sneakers as he stood there with mounting horror. Tears streamed down his sore face. [...] 

We don’t know much, but from Adam’s flashbacks and dreams, I believe Clarissa committed suicide. The exact method she used is unclear (hanged in the kitchen/ bleed to death in the bathtub). Maybe she attempted against her life several times until, one day, she succeeded. What exactly she went through that lead to her bruises and a deteriorated mental health?

Firstly, I’m going to assume Larry and Clarissa met in church. Since it is said that Clarissa and her friends were religious as well and rejected those outside their religion, I think she must fall under the baptist denomination as well.

This implies Adam’s household was founded under two pillars:

Information control.

Since Clarissa and Larry rejected any input aside their religion and lifestyle, they would probably try to raise Adam away from outside influence. This includes supervised television, homeschool, etc.

This would explain why Adam has developed quiet interests over time (mainly reading) and doesn’t know many, if any, pop culture references or movies/tv shows (answered in the Official Old Tumblr account, deactivated in 2023).

His hobbies outside the home would also aim to trap Adam within the church social circle. That’s why he spent his time singing for the church chorus.

Not only was censorship promoted, but violence and persecution against "heretics" was as well. This may be partly why Adam grew up desensitized to violence.

Examples of hateful sermons in this video, also linked at the end in resources: https://youtu.be/W2I-59uDtIk.

Traditional values

I will specifically tackle the different and unequal treatment towards men and women.

Women must stay submissive to men, whether it’s their father, tutor or (and specially) their husband. As some ex-members of the church describe it: Women in church were constantly battered housewives, constantly afraid of everything. They have to ask permission for everything, even making a phone call.

Women are expected to take care of the house and the children, cradle their partners and comply to their every wish.

On the other hand, men make all the decisions and run every aspect of the house. They are in charge of finances and are encouraged to punish and correct any misbehavior. They aren’t supposed to have a sensitive side or show emotion, in hopes that compassion or emotion would cloud their judgment and prevent them from imposing their dominance.

We actually get a confirmation Adam was severely punished for crying, and it wasn’t an isolated episode:

Little Adam’s POV: He can’t get caught crying again. Not after last time. He can still remember the acrid scent of cigarette smoke and the suffocating darkness of the shed, his palms flat against the rotting floor as he waited with his head bowed. No, he’s learned his lesson too many times to count.

Both genders aren’t allowed to wear nail polish or piercings. Hair dye is also forbidden, specially since it’s a standard of feminism and the LGBTQ+ community, and those two diametrally oppose their beliefs and are seen as a threat to morality.

Power imbalance, desensitization and dogmatic thinking patterns are the perfect combination for domestic violence and cruelty.

In Clarissa’s case, she probably was often targeted due to her naturally shy and fragile nature. Softness is weakness to be taken advantage of. And retaliation is not an option.

By now, you can probably guess where this is going, but I suspect Clarissa was repeatedly abused (physically and sexually) by Larry. We’ve already seen Larry is capable and has beaten his child.

And Adam remembers his mother covered in scars and bruises, crying and begging for Adam not to turn out like his dad, and this memory surfaces the moment he’s about to masturbate.

Adam’s POV: Did his father think he’d give into his desires? Did he believe he’d grow up and become just like him?

Ruth: It’s your fault she’s gone! You’re the reason she endured everything she did. It was all for you, and yet you killed her! Your entire existence destroyed her! I told her she shouldn’t have gone through with her pregnancy, but she wouldn’t listen. What he did to her, you know that all started because of you, don’t you? But she never told you that because she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, but you should’ve. And now? And now she’s gone because of you. You took her away. [...] You Goddamn piece of shit, you took her away, again!

According to old testament bible laws, if an unpure woman gets assaulted by a man, they shall both be punished. But… If the woman in question was a virgin, the abuser must then talk to her father and marry her to pay for the damages.

Outside the bible, abuse is excused, justified or hidden in other ways. When someone influential in the church abuses someone, the victim is met with: God uses that sexual abuse to make you grow closer to him. As if the pain and trauma was a gift to be cherished.

Prior to the abuse, women are always aware of the hungry gaze of men. They can't show any skin, for it would be their fault to cause a fellow man to stumble. Men’s desires are perceived as not their own, but an impulse women have to cater and are guilty of awakening.

At the same time, sex itself is taboo and condoned outside of marriage. Abortion is also condemned, and it’s considered a synonym of infanticide.

So women walk around scared and uninformed, surrounded by men who won’t take accountability for their lust and will force the women they find attractive to own up to their twisted behavior. Even going as far as threatening the victim to stay quiet if they don’t wish the abuser to spread how the woman came onto them instead.

Ruth points the start of things spiraling with Clarissa’s pregnancy. Several reasons could explain this.

It’s possible that Larry didn’t plan on settling down and Clarissa’s pregnancy was an unexpected inconvenience. Since he can’t be at fault for anything, Clarissa is to blame for having the baby, and, in his eyes, she should accept the violence since she’s the cause of his frustrations.

Abusers may start to show their true colors after a baby, because if they threaten the child’s safety, then the mother has no choice but to endure the abuse in order to protect their kid. Also, since they become weak and maybe even lose their jobs after giving birth, they are completely at the mercy of their husbands financially.

Moreover, homosexuality was seen as a sin. Ruth was confronted about her love for Clarissa head on, and I suspect Clarissa knew about her feelings. If not, why treasure a simple birthday gift even after years of separation and “betrayal” ? (since Ruth didn’t support Clarissa in the slightest after her pregnancy, wanting to essentially escape and rewrite everything that happened, beside things we don’t know about that are probably far worse than a hurtful comparison). I think Clarissa returned Ruth’s feelings and would’ve never willingly slept with someone else. Her shy and prude demeanor in the photo further supporting this idea she wouldn’t come onto anybody with lascivious intent.

So, in summary.

Clarissa and Ruth were in love.

Larry sexually assaulted Clarissa. There are many possibilities here. I think probably Clarissa was ashamed and manipulated. She kept quiet and “started dating” Larry. Maybe she told Ruth, or Ruth ended up discovering the true nature of her relationship with Larry after the pregnancy was announced and the violence started.

Clarissa gave birth to Adam.

When Adam was a child, Clarissa and Ruth got separated by Larry for some unknown reason. Her comments and actions probably caused a lot of problems in the marriage, hence why she got confronted directly by Larry on her crush and why she’s deadly afraid since then.

Clarissa raised Adam alone and, meaning to protect him from his dad while sustaining a sense of normalcy, as many housewives do.

Clarissa died when Adam was already grown up. Seemingly, she committed suicide, but if Adam is looking for answers to this day and has a mysterious promise to keep, maybe her departure is not that simple.

How did this affect Adam and how he navigated his childhood?

For starters, he hates the smells and flavors that remind him of his dad, like cigars and alcohol.

He also can't handle being genuinely spooked, and heavily prefers quiet past times.

He was probably told directly or indirectly how her mother’s suffering was his fault. How being born was a long life burden to her mom, and one he must atone for.

(In this context, his name is another layer of fucked up. Adam is the original sin, he alone condemned the world to an existence of suffering, all because he let his obligations aside in favor of his lover. And humanity spent the rest of eternity repenting, awaiting a forgiveness that only came in heaven, after a life of unwavering devotion to God).

He believes himself to be inherently bad. All his actions and choices aim to correct this perceived wrong that was never a wrong in the first place.

Adam has a clear distaste of his father and grows up in fear he’s bound to become "just like him". I think this is where his rebellious nature comes in, questioning the word of God and the sociocultural perspective his parents feed him. Specially when he’s a first witness of hypocrisy, lies and irreversible harm.

Going back to the beginning, Clarissa probably nurtured Adam and shared with him the few happy memories he can recall from childhood. He wanted to make her happy and make life easy for her.

Adam’s POV: He’s never cared much for extravagant things despite people always offering them left and right. He was taught to never want them, to never accept anything beyond his means, something he holds onto to this day.

Notice the phrasing. He doesn’t say “I never liked that kind of thing” he specified he was taught to not want them.

You can’t be taught “unwant” something. You can be conditioned to reject something, tho. 

You can be taught to believe your wants and needs are immoral, and your objective is to suppress and act directly against them.

When punitive, shaming or guilt-tripping is applied to reframe the very nature of our innocent desires, that function as our inner drive and guide to our sense of self, we lose touch with who we are. Taking pride or shame in committing to the role, while suppressing any emotion, locked as unacceptable and disgusting.

Even if his mom loved him, she indoctrinated him to a certain extent and made him believe he can't trust his desires because they're intrinsically bad, even if she did it with good intentions. Adam is a bad seed and can only aim to "do the right thing" by sticking to her memory. That's why he sees her as this vengeful spirit, there's a duality within him.

This leads to a complete disconnect of the emotional self. You grow numb and uninterested, dedicating your focus to "performing at a high standard" and blowing off some steam in a controlled environment. How? By directing your inner rage towards the outside world. You see yourself in this filthy scum, and if you don't deserve to live, they should die for not being able to control themselves.

That's Adam's life. Guided by an Old Testament of rules too outdated for him to grow, but too engraved on his skin for him to set himself free. The only feelings available are "reward" and anger.

Despite going on tour after tour, Adam's world remains small; the same as when he was little.

That's when YOU come in.

It's not about the kiss itself. It's about the novelty. An unexpected (but pleasurable) occurrence that put his status quo upside down.

The lore alarms went crazy the moment YOU mention, you remember Clarissa, but can’t recall from where. Sure, it’s certainly possible that she reminded you of Adam, since they look alike, therefore explaining the sense of déjà vu. But let’s recall Ruth and Clarissa have been close friends since high school, at least. Maybe YOU met Clarissa when YOU were little. And not only her. Adam too. It’s been said multiple times in the official Twitter/X account that Adam managed to handle his sexual desires just fine until YOU came around, and not just because you kissed him. It’s like something about YOU specifically ignites something within Adam, and given the context, it’s very likely YOU and HIM met a long time ago and just don’t recognize one another, because you both changed a lot growing up. Ruth even says she only picked up on Adam’s identity due to his pendant. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have a clue who he was.

Regardless, his sexual attraction awakened a hidden side of himself. A vulnerable, sincere and needy fraction of his identity, which holds the key to solving his inner turmoil.

If he lets himself explore this part of him, it might be a strong enough catalyst to help him open up to other areas of his life.

I believe that's the deeper reason behind Adam's fixation on bondage specifically.

He wants to experience all these new pleasurable sensations, but he feels too guilty to do so. Being forced into it gives the conscious mind an excuse."You're restrained." There's someone else in control. It takes the blame off what you're feeling, so you may indulge in your secret desires.

If he sees nothing bad happens after the fact, he may allow himself to unwind in other ways and find himself again. The tender parts of him he abandoned a long time ago.

It would be naive to believe he can be completely redeemed after killing people. But I sincerely believe he's a sweetie at heart, and I hope he has the best outcome possible. But if the narrative demands otherwise (which is very likely, lmao)... welcome the angst and long live fanfiction, am I right?😭🔪💜

So, what do you think? AND WHAT’S THE MEANING OF Anthemis cotula !? 🌼 We’ll never now.

I can’t write a longer theory because all those extra juicy facts and snippets for the upcoming chapter are on the patreon. You can find the link on the twitter of the game. Please, support the creator if you're able.

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments. I wish all your hopes will manifest in real life soon. Good night and sweet dreams, everyone.🌙🪄

Lovely commission by @you-and-him

RESOURCES:

Tennessee demographics: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Demographics_of_Tennessee 

Evangelicalism: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evangelicalism 

Southern Baptist Church:

https://youtu.be/bPZTP9_0mbI

https://youtu.be/6gSjUpBxVEU 

Trans person infiltrates hate church: https://youtu.be/W2I-59uDtIk

[legokingfisher]

Are we gonna talk about the fact that Nokt shoved his flaming hand into Ras’ face or

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Ah, kinks—something all humans have, especially those who read fanfics. I mean, who doesn’t love them? Whether it’s the soft, the spicy, or the downright unhinged, there’s always something that hits just right.

Let’s be real: scrolling through AO3, Tumblr, or Wattpad at 3 AM, looking for that one specific trope that scratches the brain itch?

Yeah, we’ve all been there.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet.

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences!!

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache.

You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you with his cock, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His fingers tease your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want, love. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing down lightly as if testing the waters. 

A soft moan released from your lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His soft gin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears running down your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Even the shadowed obsession that came with it. 

[onthecrescentofthehill]

it’s funny when ppl talk about the harpy omelet scene and say things like “why did he do all of that? he didn’t need to. JUST doing that for laios???” (seen these nearly verbatim on posts i’ve made.)

i don’t really get how you can hear his backstory & not understand that every decision he makes within the dungeon is fueled by a profound trauma borne out of horrific, structural negligence. of course he would do fucking anything to enact his plan? if he computes “getting in laios’s favor = proxy control of the dungeon” and he has very limited time to do so, he will jump at the chance. he’s already DIED for this.

kabru has maybe the clearest possible motivation that a character can have. he has a Protagonists Motivation, and it guides him forward in a very coherent way in the beginning of the story. things get more complicated in later acts that directly address how that motivation manifests itself/gets contradicted, bc ryoko kui is great at exploring this, but it’s still extremely present.

and as a labru fan i strongly dislike the implication i see from some ppl that his interest in laios is mostly personal or romantic (posts that range from pure joke to actual ship meta.) even when taking the “confession” at face value, where i think he was telling the truth, there’s still a lot more to it than that. i think at first kabru does see laios as a means to an end in a way that’s impersonal, partly because he tends to keep everyone in his life at arms length. but that “end” (preventing history from repeating itself) is something foundational to his psyche, and we should consider that potential sense of safety getting mixed in with his warring fascination/apprehension towards laios. he’s drawn to him for visceral reasons, and his stated motivations are so intertwined with his sense of self that untangling this push-pull is much more interesting than boilerplate Yearning, to me.

it’s just confusing when any meta or basic discussion of kabru diminishes the weight utaya has on his inner world and i’m really surprised every time i see it? like i understand that different types of meta will put other lenses on things intentionally, and in most cases i think it’s an interesting tool to work with. but it’s a massive disservice to his character to put the most foundational experience of his life on the back burner ESPECIALLY when it’s in favor of shipping. dissecting character relationships, romantic or otherwise, is at its best when you have their full personhood in mind!!

[eu-nicola]

star girl

summary: you were always in love with JJ and when he finally noticed you, someone had to appear to make him take his attention off of you.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 5403

author’s note: english is not my first language, unfortunately I don't know what's going on and i can't tag anyone.

The first time you realized you had a crush on JJ Maybank, you were nine years old. It was a hot afternoon on the Outer Banks, and everyone was at the beach. John B and the other boys were competing to see who could run the fastest to the pier. You, as always, were sitting on the sand, watching from a distance, knees drawn to your chest, wanting to be a part of his world. 

You couldn't take your eyes off JJ. His carefree smile, the sparkle in his blue eyes, the messy blonde hair that seemed to catch the sunlight. Even at that age, there was something special about him, an energy that drew you in without you being able to help it. While John B protected you like the older brother he was, you dreamed that one day JJ would look at you the way he looked at the ocean waves: with admiration, with interest. But for years, that day never came. 

To him, you were always John B’s little sister, a constant but almost invisible presence in his life. The girl who ran after the Pogues, who listened to their stories from the corner of the room, laughing when everyone else did, but who never got a special glance from JJ.

Until that night.

It was at one of those impromptu parties at the Routledge house, with the sound of the ocean in the background and lights hanging on the porch. The air was heavy with salt and laughter, and you had decided, almost without thinking, that tonight would be different. You had spent hours choosing what to wear, looking for a balance between casual and what might catch his attention. The short dress you chose was simple, but it knew how to highlight your subtle curves, the ones JJ had never noticed before.

When you got to the backyard, the party was already in full swing. Kie was dancing with Sarah near the fire pit, and John B was busy talking to Pope about a new adventure. But you weren’t looking for either of them. There was only one person on your mind.

You saw him leaning against the porch railing, a beer in his hand, talking to a blonde girl you didn’t know. Your heart sank for a moment. Sure, he was with another girl. He was always with some girl. But instead of turning around and giving up, something in you decided that this time you weren’t going to stay in the shadows.

You walked towards the group confidently, feigning a confidence you didn’t really feel, but that seemed to convince everyone. JJ saw you approach, and for the first time, his eyes stopped on you, not in passing, not as his best friend’s sister, but as someone who, for some reason, deserved his attention.

“Do you want a beer?” he offered, with that crooked smile that had always driven you crazy.

“Sure,” you replied with an equally confident smile, though inside your heart was pounding.

They spent the night talking, laughing, sharing glances you hadn’t imagined possible. It wasn’t just the beer; it was the way his fingers brushed yours as he passed you a bottle, the way his eyes roamed your face as if he were seeing it for the first time. He made you feel alive, wanted.

And then, close to midnight, when everyone was too busy to notice, he led you away from the hustle and bustle, to the back of the house, where the shadows met the moonlight.

“I always thought you were different,” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Different how?” you asked, barely breathing, afraid it was all a dream.

“I don’t know… I’ve never seen you like this before. But now I can’t stop looking at you.”

And then he kissed you. It was gentle at first, like he was testing something he had been waiting to discover. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, afraid that if you let go, the moment would fade. 

Ever since that night at the party, your relationship with JJ became a secret that throbbed between the two of you, hidden in the margins of your lives. When you were around others, he was still the same JJ: charismatic, carefree, the boy who joked with John B and made everyone laugh. But in those moments when his eyes met yours, there was something different. Something that only you two shared. 

The escapades began to become more frequent. At first, they were small encounters: a furtive glance from across the room, the purposeful brush of your hands as you passed him a bottle, or a smile that disappeared as quickly as it had come. But over time, those stolen moments stopped being enough. 

There were nights when JJ would send you a short, simple text: “Meet you at the dock.” And you, unable to resist, would sneak out of the house while John B slept, slipping through the shadows until you reached him. There, under the dim light of the stars and the sound of the waves crashing against the wood, JJ would wait for you. Always with that mischievous smile, always with the promise of making you forget the world for a while.

“Do you ever wonder what would happen if John B knew?” you asked one night, as you both sat on the edge of the dock, your feet dangling over the water.

JJ looked at you, his smile fading for a moment. He knew the question was going to come sooner or later.

“He’d probably kill me,” he replied with a soft laugh, but there was a truth in his words that made you shudder.

“I know,” you murmured, fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was the reality that always hung over the both of you, a cloud that never quite went away.

JJ slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His fingers traced soft circles on your skin, as if he wanted to calm your thoughts.

“But I also know I can’t stop looking at you,” he whispered close to your ear. “I don’t want to.”

His words hit you with a mix of excitement and fear. Because even though JJ was impulsive, and sometimes he didn’t think about the consequences, you knew his feelings were real. He didn’t say it to make you feel good, but because he truly meant it.

There were always boundaries, though. They never talked about the future, never wondered what they were to each other. Everything stayed in the present, in what they could steal from each other while no one was looking. And even though you wanted more—more of his touch, more of his glances, more of his time—there was a part of you that was afraid to ask for it.

There were days when reality hit you harder. Like when you saw him flirting with other girls at parties, his easy smile and undeniable charm melting hearts in its wake. You knew he’d always been like that, and that, in theory, you had no right to feel jealous. It wasn’t anything serious.

But it hurt.

“Why does it bother you?” he asked you once, after you confronted him about spending too much time with a girl at a party.

“I don’t know…” you lied, but you both knew the truth.

JJ looked at you with those blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He moved in slowly, his fingers brushing your cheek before he cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re the one who’s here with me now” he whispered, his lips just inches from yours. “Not her.”

And when he kissed you, all your thoughts faded away, at least for a moment.

But reality always came back.

Despite the doubts that lingered in your head, you kept looking at JJ. Because even though there were no promises, even though he never assured you anything, you were willing to settle for what he gave you. It was enough… or at least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

But then, she showed up.

Her name was Emma. She wasn’t the type that usually hung out in the Outer Banks, nor some random girl who showed up at parties. She was new to the island, with a dazzling smile and a carefree air that caught everyone’s attention… including JJ.

The first time you saw her was at one of those beach gatherings, where all the Pogues and a few Kooks mingled. You were sitting near Kie and Sarah, enjoying the warmth of the fire, when you noticed her. Tall, blonde, with the kind of confidence that seemed to light up the place she was in.

But what really made you tense was seeing how JJ looked at her. It was a look you recognized all too well. The same one he’d started giving you in those first few encounters. The same one that had made you feel visible, wanted.

And now, that look was directed at someone else.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to ignore it, telling yourself it meant nothing. JJ had always been charming with girls, always flirted. But there was a difference this time. Emma wasn’t just another one.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked you, noticing your silence.

“Yes, everything is fine” you lied, forcing a smile that barely managed to convince her.

That night, JJ spent most of his time with Emma. He helped her light a new fire, offered her a beer, and when she laughed at one of his jokes, you felt something snap inside you.

He barely looked at you.

You tried not to give it any importance, thinking it was just one night. That the next day, things would go back to the way they were. But they didn't.

From that point on, Emma showed up at every party, every impromptu get-together, and JJ always found an excuse to get close to her. It seemed like the whole world had shrunk to that girl… except for you.

There was one afternoon when everyone decided to go surfing. You were used to seeing JJ in the water, seeing how his smile lit up when he challenged the waves. But that day, instead of being by your side, he was teaching Emma how to balance on the board. She was laughing nervously, and he was completely focused on her, as if nothing else mattered.

You felt the air grow heavy, like you couldn’t breathe. And though you tried to stay calm, it was hard not to notice how your presence had ceased to be relevant to him.

Later, as everyone relaxed on the sand, JJ walked over to where you were sitting alone, drawing circles in the sand with his fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’ve been really quiet lately,” he said, his carefree smile on, as if he hadn’t noticed anything.

Of course he hadn’t noticed.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he insisted, leaning slightly towards you, as if he wanted to figure out what you weren’t saying.

“Yeah, JJ. I’m fine,” you said more firmly, even though you knew it was an obvious lie.

He looked at you for a second longer, as if he was about to say something, but then Emma called out to him from the shore. And without a second thought, JJ stood up and walked away, leaving behind a void that seemed to grow ever larger.

That night, there was no “See you at the dock” text.

You stayed in your room, staring at the ceiling, wondering when Emma became his center of attention.

The next few days were silent torment. Emma kept showing up everywhere, and JJ was still by her side, oblivious to you. Every time you saw them together, every time you heard his laughter mixing with hers, you felt like you might… you didn’t even know.

Until one night, when the tension became unbearable, JJ found you alone on the dock, the same place where it had all started. He sat down next to you, the sound of the water breaking the silence between you.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been distant,” he said, glancing at you out of the corner of your eye. “Is something going on?”

You looked at him, and for the first time, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You really don’t notice, JJ?” you asked, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and hurt.

“Notice what?” he replied, genuinely confused, as if everything that was going on between you had been invisible to him.

And there, at that moment, you understood. JJ Maybank was an idiot.

“Forget it,” you whispered, getting up from the spot and walking in another direction.

JJ watched you leave for a second longer, wanting to understand, but in the end, he simply stayed silent. Because to him, everything was fine.

The next day dawned hot, and the beach seemed like the only logical place to spend the afternoon. The boys had decided to surf, while you, Sarah, and Kie settled down on the sand, towels spread out and sunglasses covering your faces. The sun was beating down, and although you tried to relax and concentrate on the light conversation your friends were having, your gaze inevitably sought out JJ.

You found him quickly. It wasn’t hard. He was in the water, near the waves, with Emma. She was laughing, splashing as he helped her stabilize on the board, like he’d done with you so many times before. There was an ease in the way JJ moved with her, like nothing in the world could interrupt them. And it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

“Are you burning?” Kie asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh? No… I’m fine,” you answered quickly, adjusting your sunglasses to hide the frown you hadn’t been able to help.

You tried to stay present, to laugh at the right moments, to talk about anything but what was really bothering you. But your eyes kept returning to JJ and Emma, ​​like they were impossible magnets to control. Every laugh from her, every smile from him, stuck in you like a needle.

After a while, you got tired. Tired of pretending you didn’t care.

“I’m going to the water to cool off a bit,” you announced, getting up from your towel and brushing the sand off your legs.

“I’ll join you in a bit,” Sarah said, but you were already walking toward the shore.

The water was cool, an immediate relief from the scorching heat. You waded in up to your ankles, letting the small waves splash against your feet as you stared at the horizon. You took a deep breath, trying to drown out that feeling of discomfort that had been haunting you for days.

The sound of footsteps approaching behind you made you turn your head slightly. JJ.

“Aren’t you going to go any further in?” he asked, with that lazy smile he always seemed to have.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you continued to stare at the water, as if he wasn’t there. As if his presence didn’t affect you.

JJ didn’t seem to be put off by your silence. He moved closer, until he was close enough for his feet to touch the water as well.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked in a nonchalant tone, as if it was all a game to him.

“No, JJ. I’m not mad,” you murmured, not looking at him.

But he knew you well enough to know that wasn’t true. There was a moment of silence, and then, you felt it. His hand brushing your back, his fingers playing with the thin strap of your bikini.

“What are you doing?” you asked, turning to look at him, but it was too late. With a quick, precise movement, JJ peeled off the top strap of your bikini.

“JJ!” “Oh,” you exclaimed, heart racing as you scrambled to hold the fabric to your chest, keeping it from falling. Your eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and anger.

He laughed, that carefree laugh that always seemed to come out of him so easily.

“Relax, no one saw,” he said, quickly looking around. It was true. Sarah and Kie were still talking to each other on the sand, and everyone else was busy in their own worlds. No one was paying attention… except you.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, your voice steady, trying to stay calm as you tied your bikini back up.

JJ shrugged, that mischievous spark in his eyes.

“I wanted to see how you tanned.”

The answer made you boil inside. What was a light joke to him was an invasion to you, a reminder of how he always seemed to take everything lightly, even when you were at the edge of an emotional abyss.

You stared at him, your eyes burning.

“Why don’t you check to see if Emma has tanned?” you shot back, an edge to your voice that you couldn’t hide.

JJ raised an eyebrow, surprised by your response. The amusement on his face faded for a second, replaced by something that looked like curiosity.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, tilting his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he hadn’t finished putting together.

Jealous. The word hung in the air, heavy, loaded with meaning. Of course you were, but you would never admit it to him. Not to him. Not after how he’d been ignoring you.

“Don’t make me laugh, JJ,” you said sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why would I be jealous? What you do with Emma is none of my business, is it?”

You saw him tense, if only for a second. But JJ was JJ, and he quickly returned to his carefree facade.

“You’re right,” he said, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

The coldness of his words hit you harder than you expected. You felt a lump in your throat, but you refused to show him how much it had affected you.

“Exactly,” you said firmly, giving him one last look before turning and walking away from him, back towards the beach.

As you walked away, you could feel his gaze on your back. But you didn’t look back. Because even though a part of you wanted him to follow you, to say something, anything to show that he cared, you knew he wouldn’t.

After that day at the beach, something changed inside you. It was like you had finally crossed a line that had no way back. You could no longer pretend that what JJ did didn’t affect you, that his indifference didn’t hurt you. So you decided to stop trying.

You would ignore him.

Every time he came close, you would walk away. Whenever he made a group comment, you just looked away. And if he ever tried to start a conversation with you, your answers were short, curt, just enough for him to understand that you didn’t want anything from him.

But it was a lie.

You didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. Not when you still felt that flutter in your stomach every time you saw him smile, or when his laugh, the one that seemed to fill all the space around him, reached your ears. But you wanted him to think you hated him. You wanted him to feel, at least a little, the rejection you had felt.

The first time you deliberately ignored him was at a meeting. You were sitting on the couch, surrounded by friends, when JJ walked in, as always, with an energy that seemed to light up the room.

“Hey,” he greeted, with that easy smile that used to make you melt.

“Hey,” everyone answered, except you.

You didn’t even look up. You just kept looking at your phone, as if he wasn’t there.

He noticed. You knew because he paused for a second, like he was waiting for you to say something. But when you didn’t, he moved toward the group, his smile barely faltering.

Later, he tried to approach you again. You were in the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink, when you felt him behind you.

“Are you hiding from me?” he asked in a light, almost mocking tone.

“I don’t have to hide from anyone, JJ,” you replied without looking at him, your voice so cold it almost surprised you.

He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you. It was his classic move, the carefree guy one, but you weren’t willing to fall for it anymore.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” he finally asked, his tone more serious.

“I have nothing to tell you,” you replied, focusing back on your drink.

“Nothing?” he insisted, taking a step closer. Not even to tell me why you're acting like I did something terrible to you?

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. It was hard to stand your ground when he was so close, when you could feel his presence enveloping you.

“I’m not acting. I just have no interest in talking to you. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?” JJ asked, a spark of defiance in his eyes. “Because it seems more like you’re avoiding me.”

You shot him a look loaded with intent.

“JJ, it’s not all about you. You’re not as important as you think.”

The lie came out more bitter than you expected. Because, actually, it was. He’d always been important to you, but you refused to admit it.

JJ fell silent, as if he were evaluating your words. Finally, he let out a low laugh, the laugh that used to enchant you but now only seemed to infuriate you.

“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Perfect,” you replied, turning your back on him and walking out of the kitchen before he could say anything else.

But it wasn’t as easy as you thought. Ignoring him took more effort than you anticipated. Because JJ wasn’t the type to accept being ignored easily. He was still looking for excuses to get close to you, to invade your space with his unmistakable presence.

There was one afternoon at the beach when you were with Sarah and Kie, laughing and enjoying the sun, when he appeared with his surfboard under his arm. He stopped near where you were standing, as if he was looking for something… or someone.

“You coming to the water?” he asked, addressing the group, but with his eyes on you.

“No. We’re fine here,” Kie replied before you could speak.

But JJ didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at you as if he was waiting for a specific answer. One that never came.

Finally, he turned around and walked towards the water, but not before giving you one last look, as if he was trying to figure out the wall you had put up between you.

The tension between you had grown like a storm about to break loose. Ignoring him had been your strategy, and JJ had played his part at first. But like everything involving him, it couldn’t last long. You were both too impulsive, too passionate to keep pretending you didn’t care.

The opportunity for it all to explode came at one of the parties that always seemed to bring everyone together. With loud music, flashing lights, and the beach in the background. The air was charged with energy, but you were tense from the moment you arrived. You knew JJ would be there, and even though you had spent days perfecting the skill of ignoring him, something told you that tonight would be different.

You leaned against a wall near the kitchen, holding a glass in your hand, watching the crowd dance and laugh. Sarah and Kie were nearby, talking to some guys, but you weren’t in the mood to socialize. Your gaze, as always, sought him out. And you found him.

JJ was there, in the center of the room, laughing with his friends and… with Emma. She was beside him, too close, laughing at something he had said. It was a scene you had seen repeated too many times in the past few weeks, and it hurt more and more each time.

You tried to ignore it, as you had been doing, but that night it was harder. Something inside you was on the verge of breaking.

“Are you okay?” Kie asked, coming closer.

“Yeah, sure,” you lied, giving her a forced smile.

She looked at you curiously, but didn’t insist. She didn’t want to talk about JJ. She didn’t want to think about him… but it was impossible not to.

A couple of hours later, the party was still at its peak. You had decided to go out to the backyard to get some fresh air. The cool breeze was a relief against the heat you felt inside. You were standing, staring at the waves in the distance, when you heard him.

“Are you going to keep avoiding me all night?”

JJ’s voice.

You didn’t need to turn around to know he was behind you. You could feel his presence, so familiar and so frustrating. You pressed your lips together and took a deep breath before slowly turning around.

“I didn’t know I had to talk to you, JJ,” you replied coldly, crossing your arms over your chest.

He looked at you, his blue eyes shining with that mix of confusion and determination that always managed to disarm you. But this time you refused to fall.

“Really?” he asked, taking a step closer. “Are you going to keep doing this? Because I’m tired. I’m tired of you ignoring me, of you acting like I don’t exist.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. You had expected that confrontation, but now that it was here, you didn’t know if you were ready to face it.

“And what did you expect me to do, JJ?” you asked, your voice rising slightly. “Keep pretending everything was okay? Because it’s not.”

He frowned, crossing his arms.

“Pretending? What are you talking about? Everything was fine until you started acting like you hated me.”

The word “hate” made you shudder. It wasn’t hate, it never had been, but you wanted him to believe it.

“I don’t hate you, JJ,” you said, voice softer this time, but still laden with emotion. “What bothers me is that… you just don’t realize it.”

“Realize what?” he asked, genuinely interested now, his tone more serious.

That was the moment. You could feel it in the air, like everything around you had stopped, waiting for your answer.

“About how I feel about you.” The words came out before you could stop them, and once they were said, there was no going back. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, JJ. And every time you ignore me, every time I see you with Emma or any other girl… it hurts.” It hurts more than I can bear.

JJ stared at you, as if he was processing every word. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and that silence was worse than any answer.

“I didn’t know…” he finally murmured, his voice seeming softer, more vulnerable.

“How could you know?” you said, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You never looked at me like that. I was always John B’s sister, or just another friend. I was never enough for you, was I?”

He shook his head, taking a step closer. He was in front of you now, so close you could feel his heat.

“Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

“No?” you asked, challenging him with your gaze. “Because that’s how you’ve made me feel.”

JJ raised his hand, hesitating for a moment before gently placing it on your cheek. The contact was electric, as always, but this time you weren’t about to let that confuse you.

“You are more than enough.” You always have been… but I’m the idiot who didn’t see it.” His voice was sincere, full of something you hadn’t heard before: regret.

“JJ…” You whispered his name, your eyes searching for his, but this time there were no barriers. Everything was there, exposed.

And for the first time, there were no more games, no more lies. Just the two of you, face to face, with the truth finally spoken.

JJ looked at you with an intensity you had rarely seen in him. His blue eyes were fixed on yours, and for an instant, everything around you disappeared. It was just the two of you, with the truth floating in the air, no masks, no games.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice low, but full of emotion. “I never wanted to make you feel that way.”

Despite the emotions bubbling in your chest, a part of you still resisted. You had spent so much time building that wall between you that letting it fall suddenly made you feel vulnerable, exposed.

“JJ…” you started, but he didn’t let you continue.

“Listen to me.” His hand was still on your cheek, and his thumb traced a light circle on your skin, sending a shiver through your body. “I don’t know when I started feeling this… the way I feel about you. But it’s there. I know it now, and I don’t want to ignore it anymore. I don’t want to lose you anymore.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had dreamed of hearing something like this so many times that it seemed unreal now.

“What about Emma?” you asked, your voice still heavy with caution. “You seem pretty interested in her lately.”

JJ frowned slightly, as if the mere mention of Emma was irrelevant at the moment.

“Emma doesn’t mean anything.” His answer was firm, sincere.

His words made a wave of heat run through you. For a moment, you wanted to believe him, but there was still a part of you that wanted to hold on to the resentment, to the distance you had kept. It was easier than giving yourself over completely.

JJ noticed your hesitation, and with a mischievous smile that you knew well, he added:

“You know, I like it when you ignore me… but I prefer it when you talk to me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head. His ability to disarm you with a simple sentence was still intact.

“Don’t get used to this, JJ.” Your eyes met his, a spark of defiance flashing in them. “I may go back to hating you. It was more fun.”

He laughed, genuine and carefree, as if your words were exactly what he needed to hear.

“I doubt it.” He leaned in slightly, getting so close that his breath brushed your lips. “But if you do… I promise I’ll find a way to make you like me again.”

The world seemed to stop for a second. The air between you was thick with tension, but this time it wasn’t the same tension you’d been carrying around for weeks. This time it was different. It was something new, something real.

And when JJ finally closed the distance, brushing your lips against his in a slow kiss filled with everything that had been left unsaid, you knew that no matter how hard you tried to resist, there was no turning back. You were lost in him, as always, but this time he was lost in you too.

[aeraminth]

nsfw - 1.1k dry humping as his arm gets repaired // the first time you saw caleb’s robotic arm, you couldn’t help but feel anger towards the people who forced him through such a horrible and traumatic experience. it took weeks, if not months, of caleb’s reassurance and tending to your concerns to finally soften your anger towards it. to you, it’s a reminder of what changed him—a reminder to you of the person he is now.

but, you can’t lie and say his repairs don’t leave a trail of curiosity in their wake whenever you watch.

now, instead of pushing you away like he did initially, caleb lets you stay around, seeing him with his guard down and with all the vulnerabilities of the world plastered on his disposition. you hurt just as bad when he does, wincing alongside him when he lets out another pained sound slip during a repair.

“caleb,” you cough from behind him. he bites his tongue, having resigned himself to accepting your advances, when time and time again he knows he can’t refuse you.

“not so bad the more you see it, right?” he tries, but the muscles on his back are taut and a light layer of sheen covers his exposed upper half. despite the wave of pain that courses through his body, caleb still stays playful, trying to show you the best version of himself at all times.

is it so wrong to say he leaves your core pulsing with need? his bionic arm continues to fizzle, and the screen reads that he has another five minutes of scanning before he can finally feel better.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you,” you console, sliding right by his side and wrapping his left arm around your shoulder. “just a bit longer.”

“thanks, pip-squeak. but really—i promise—“ a long, drawn out groan betrays him as he turns away, the crackle of electricity to your left a clear sign that his repairs have hit a weak spot. “i promise—“ he breathes out, “i’ll be okay. this won’t happen again.”

staring at caleb, a sudden prickle of anger slowly rises within you, and you reach for his chin to make eye contact. you need to be as close to him as possible, and with a swift movement, you’re on caleb’s lap, forcing him to slightly look up at you with a hand cradling his jaw. his left hand reaches for your thigh, helping you adjust your position as his touch lingers on your exposed skin.

the material of his pants and his belt against your bare legs are rough, and only wearing the t-shirt you’ve taken from caleb’s closet doesn’t stop the thin material of your panties from rubbing against him. his breath hitches, and he takes a long sigh, his eyes never leaving yours as you force him to continue holding eye contact. his focus us completely torn away from the screen that quietly beeps and flickers; all he’s thinking about is how’d you react if the hand on your thigh trailed up to the cotton waistband of your panties instead—how, there are much better things to do in this position than simply talk.

your gaze is filled with hurt, fixed on his mechanical arm. “you’ve never broken a promise to me—i don’t need you to tell me you’ll be okay when everything else right now obviously isn’t,” you murmur.

subconsciously, the trailing touch of your fingertips up and down his left bicep leave him straining against your heat and gritting his teeth for different reasons. rarely do you succeed in telling him off, but you know how to hit him when he’s weak, with your exposed collarbone adorned with a hickey his gazed has zeroed in on, and the feeling of your warm heat snug against his dick, no matter how many layers in between. “don’t lie to me, caleb—not about this. you don’t need to.” you stare at the screen before a subtle movement breaks your gaze.

caleb only slightly rolls his hips against yours, suddenly searching for relief in a silent apology; he hears you completely, but the back of his mind has just been filled with the carnal need to feel more of you. he ruts against your clothed cunt once more, his eyes begging for forgiveness as his left hand reaches for the small of your back.

“please, princess. i’m sorry,” caleb’s eyes shine with sincerity and lust all in one go, your concern for him lighting a fire that only you can put out. you don’t even remember what you were scolding him for—all rational slipping away.

you’re basically soaked through your panties as your anger dissolves, meeting his desperate attempts for pleasure as his repair fades into the background. he shifts his hips once more, and satiates the desire you’ve been wanting to explore for so long.

“fuck,” he whispers, his voice gravelly, and you can’t tell if it’s from the wires that his arm is attached to, or if he can feel your heat through your garments. he lets out a low moan when your clit bumps into his cock again, losing all restraint before muttering, “want you.”

you can’t resist him, grinding against his dick harder abd whimpering right in his ear. it’s like you’re possessed, or caleb’s hand keeps you going, because you can’t find it in you to stop keeping him as close to your skin as possible. but in your chase for pleasure, neither of you bother to forego your clothes, and the you continue like a madman, rubbing on his bulge as the pain in his right arm barely matters to him anymore.

caleb doesn’t bother to be subtle about it either, bucking his hips while trying to keep his right arm on the bed, chasing his high while obscenities tumble from his lips.

“shouldn’t have lied to you—fuck—i need you so bad, baby,” his hand travels up your back, silently begging for a kiss. your core burns with both a delicious friction and so much desperation that you reach for his hair, pulling slightly at caleb’s roots as you whimper in his ear how badly you need to come. it only spurs him on to be even dirtier, pushing you down onto him impossibly closer, as if he was fucking up into you.

“come all over my fucking pants like a dirty slut, hm? you want it, you want me to come in my pants for you?” you whine at his degradation, your hips stilling as you clench around nothing and leave such a wet mess on his pants.

repair completed.

but when he tells you to take off his pants—part of his uniform—who are you to disobey your colonel’s orders?

i feel insane he's like so fine i'm going to retreat and write sylus and caleb fluff now

[haikyuubby]

the haikyuu boys crushing on you!

headcanons about the haikyuu boys crushing on you!

featuring: hinata, sugawara, iwazumi, atsumu, and suna.

❀ - fluff, gender neutral reader

hinata

☀︎ whenever hinata first realizes that he has a crush on you, he totally freaks out.

☀︎ he’s so scared that you won’t reciprocate his feelings or you’ll reject him in the most embarrassing way possible.

☀︎ hinata goes to his teammates for advice, getting little to no help from them.

☀︎ he soon realizes that he’ll just have to man up and ask you out himself.

☀︎ during the crush stage, hinata can’t help but find himself drawn to you in every room that you guys are in.

☀︎ if you guys have classes together, he’d spent the majority of class time admiring you.

☀︎ he’s so desperate to spend time with you that he asks you to tutor him and attend his volleyball games.

☀︎ after weeks of debating how to properly ask you out, he makes up a plan to try and get you to be his.

☀︎ when he tries though…

☀︎ ❝ i really like you, y/n, sopleasegooutwithme! ❞

☀︎ during his confession, you can’t help but laugh at his antics a little bit.

☀︎ due to hinata’s nervous nature, he takes your laughing as rejection

☀︎ then you spend the next few minutes convincing him that you really do like him back and you weren’t rejecting him.

sugawara

☀︎ probably the most in denial of having a crush on you.

☀︎ it’s not anything towards you, but he doesn’t think that he can bag you.

☀︎ sugawara had been crushing on you since you guys were first years.

☀︎ after years of asahi trying to get him to confess his feelings for you, he finally comes around to it before volleyball starts during the final year of high school.

☀︎ sugawara didn’t try to subtly try to hide his crush on you, he just said that he didn’t have one whenever someone would ask.

☀︎ when you two would hang out, sugawara’s touch felt too gentle, too soft:

☀︎ you knew that after you felt his touch linger on your skin for too long, even if his hand just barely grazed yours, that you definitely liked him.

☀︎ sugawara was good with his words, too.

☀︎ at lunch, he’d always save you a seat beside him.

☀︎ if you forgot to pack lunch, he’d give you some of his food or give you money to go and get something from a nearby vending machine.

☀︎ after school one day, sugawara finally decided to confess his feelings for you.

☀︎ ❝ i’m sorry for waiting so long to tell you this, but i’ve had a crush on you for years, y/n. i wanted to tell you before it was too late…let me take you out on a date tomorrow, i’ll make sure that we have a good time. ❞

iwazumi

☀︎ iwazumi was the type of guy who kept his feelings to himself, especially when it came to romance.

☀︎ thanks to oikawa, the team soon found out about his little crush on you.

☀︎ iwazumi was already a pretty closed off guy, so navigating such confusing emotions was a hassle to him.

☀︎ during class, he’d always slide you notes or answers if he figured that you hadn’t been paying attention.

☀︎ during passing periods, he’d wait beside of the class that you were in to walk with you to your next period.

☀︎ iwazumi would stay up late at night texting or facetiming you, that’s when he knew that you’d become a problem in his life.

☀︎ this boy was so in love with you that he didn’t want to come to terms with it, due to his fear of rejection.

☀︎ he wasn’t a pussy, but he figured that things would get too awkward if he tried to talk about this face-to-face with you, so he opted to tell you over text.

☀︎ it was around 6pm on a random tuesday, when you go to check your phone and see that iwazumi has texted you.

☀︎ ❝ i figured i should tell you that i like you, i have a crush on you and i have for a long time. let me know if you feel the same. ❞

☀︎ after you let him know that his feelings are reciprocated, he asks if he can take you out on a proper date the following weekend.

atsumu

☀︎ is very confident in his ability to get you to fall for him.

☀︎ let’s just say you do find yourself catching feelings for him, atsumu will tease the shit out of you during this.

☀︎ during class, he’ll pass notes to you.

☀︎ another guy who will wait for you after class to walk together.

☀︎ atsumu always finds time to text you, rather that be during breaks at practice, or while he’s in the shower, he always makes time for you.

☀︎ the way that atsumu asks you out is…somewhat trifling.

☀︎ basically, he lost a bet to osamu, and his punishment for losing was confessing his feelings to his crush.

☀︎ this was not considered a “punishment” because osamu was convinced that whoever atsumu liked that they’d reject him.

☀︎ atsumu decided to confess to you right after practice one day, making sure osamu was watching the entire thing.

☀︎ ❝ i guess this is long overdue, but i like you, like a lot. ❞

☀︎ you’re caught by surprise by his confession, but not entirely shocked.

☀︎ when you see osamu watching your guys’s interaction unfold from a nearby corner, you start to grow suspicious.

☀︎ trying to just focus on the positive in this situation, you tell him that you feel the same way about him.

suna

☀︎ at first, suna does try to make an effort to show his feelings for you.

☀︎ sure, he’ll stay up on the phone with you until 3 in the morning, sleep on the phone with you, and hang out with you every weekend, but he’s a man who struggles with finding the right things to say.

☀︎ suna never really cared much about romance either, crushes were a waste of time in his opinion.

☀︎ you just so happened to catch his eye though.

☀︎ the way that suna acts after he recognizes his feelings for you is…weird.

☀︎ he compliments you a lot more, saves your snaps in chats, and typically responds to your texts immediately.

☀︎ the way that he confessed to you is very teenage boy like.

☀︎ you two were up late, texting back and forth.

☀︎ you decided to send the imessage game “20 questions”

☀︎ one of the questions you asked suna was: ❝ do u like anyone right now? ❞

☀︎ after you send that text, it takes everything in you to not throw your phone across the room due to the immense levels of anxiety that you’re feeling.

☀︎ suna’s response read: ❝ yeah lol, i like you ❞

☀︎ after he sent that text, he realized what he just did and freaks the fuck out.

☀︎ meaning that he leaves you on delivered until he sees you again the next day, explaining to you that he just got nervous last night and wanted to talk more about that in person.

[ssahotchnerr]

hellooo, i hope you’re doing well! would you want to write a fic where at some point aaron steals readers gum out of her mouth? this is such a random thought and i’m so sorry if this sounds weird (now that i’ve written it down and not only thought about it, it seems very weird, sorry!!!!!!), but i kind of feel like this is something he’d do when making out lol and it obviously catches her off guard the first time he does it 😁

according to plan

omg i'm putting a jealous!aaron take on this 🤭 cw; suggestiveness, established relationship, bau!reader, detective being a creep, heavy on the kissing, possessive/jealous!aaron 🦋

aaron's just about had it.

it started out as lingering stares, beginning at your face before sweeping all along your form. next, the insistent eagerness to partner up with you. and now the detective, who's name wasn't worth remembering, was at your backside, itching to get as close to you as he possibly could. any closer, he would have you pressed against the bulletin board in front of the two of you.

you were politely trying to explain the physical, common characteristics between the victims, how unsubs sometimes had a specific type and that's why they chose to acquire them. naturally he had asked you the most stupid, simplest question; just another excuse to speak to you.

all day, aaron had been silently seething, a mere bystander. but as he joined and saw the sight before him, his fists clenched so tightly his fingernails were digging into the palms of his hands. enough was enough.

"do you understand now?" you naively asked, a pleased expression forming on your face when the detective nodded in confirmation. unlike aaron, you had been unaware of his ongoing actions.

"is there any way i can repay you?" he questioned smoothly, his eyes yet again dropping. this time, the attentiveness is drawn to your lips.

"no," you shake your head, your focus already directed on readjusting one of the displayed photos, the gum in your mouth producing a pop. "i'm just glad i could be of some assistance."

it's a bad habit of yours, snapping your gum too loudly. it's hard to not notice it. but fortunately, the brought focus is about to work completely in aaron's favor.

aaron calls your name, tipping his head to the side as a signal for you to come. you abide, leaving the detective right where he is and as a result, he subtly glares at aaron for interrupting his time with you and his advances. aaron steps aside to let you pass, and as soon as you do, he shoots daggers right back.

truthfully, he's extremely lucky that's all aaron did.

you follow him to one of the empty interrogation rooms, a small trek away from everyone else. once inside, aaron swiftly shuts the door behind you.

"what's-"

aaron's lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, causing you to gasp slightly in surprise, throwing your arms around his neck and instantly kissing him back.

it's all too easy to submit to aaron, allowing him to guide you and push you back against the door. he crowds you against it, his breath hot and heavy in your mouth, his hands exploring every curve of your body and more. every inch of you, is consumed by him.

the kiss is heated, desperate, and in the back of your mind, you distantly wonder why the suddenness - what has gotten into him? but with the pure vigor he's kissing you with, your brain had gone fuzzy; you were too consumed by the kiss to dwell on the potential reason why, or did you care.

aaron's large hands slide down your back, landing on and promptly squeezing your ass - hard. you gasp again, and aaron uses the sudden part of your lips to push his tongue into your mouth, sliding against your own. he can taste it - the flavor of your gum - and it only encourages him further, deepening the kiss.

you can't help let out a small moan, which aaron immediately swallows up from you, mindful of your volume within the current setting. your fingers find the nape of his neck, weaving and gripping onto his hair tight.

the kiss itself is wet and sloppy - all according to plan. and once the mint flavor fully invades his mouth, aaron forces himself to pull away.

and before it becomes impossible not to.

your eyes are wide as you look up at him. your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. you let out a breathless laugh, chest heaving up and down. "wow. i..."

you trail off, your tone leading into more or less a question. aaron leans in once more, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your lips this time. "just missed you."

you take instant note of the slight, new shift of his jaw, which prompts you to realize something from your mouth is missing.

you gape at him, jaw dropping a bit in astonishment. "wait, did you take my gum?"

aaron's way of a response is opening the door, a small nudge of his head gesturing for you to exit. "after you."

you give him a confused look, yet your eyes are still dark and lined with arousal, before heading back to the others. a deep exhale leaves you as you walk away, an attempt to cool down before facing anyone else.

this time, when the detective's stare returns to you both, aaron's the one loudly snapping the gum.

[silkjade]

alhaitham x mermaid!reader (3.5)

⤀ cw: afab!reader, first time (w. him), lots of teasing, cunnilingus, praise, fingering, unprotected sex, lil bit of size kink + overstim, creampie, fluff???, true love but they don't know it yet — mdni || ꒰ 6.2k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: recommended to read the previous part first, but it can stand alone as well ! hope u enjoy my smut debut + reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡ next ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

When you had taken him up on his half conscious, pseudo challenge to visit Sumeru City, Alhaitham never imagined you’d cause him so much trouble. It’s not in the sense that you’d drawn too much unwanted attention, or that you’d spent his mora on frivolous things. No, it was your lack of understanding for the human notions of shame and intimacy. 

He’s never entirely sure of just how nuanced the unabashed things you say and do are. You’re shameless whenever you’d ask him for compliments point-blank, or when you’d waltz out of the bathroom only half-dressed in his clothes. Other times, you’d surprise him with words so naively honest, brush against him in ways that feel far too tender.

To his dismay, it’s becoming increasingly clear that your actions always come with a price—one that he pays, not with mora, but with his dignity. Much like the smooth caress of the waters you came from, it’s all seemingly harmless, but the depths of your intentions remain aggravatingly unknown. Especially when your very presence is enough to enfold all his senses in a lull of desire.

He runs a hand through his hair before turning the knob of his bedroom door, only to find you in your human form, lounging on his bed, lazily flipping through one of his books. The robe you wear is one of his; too large on your frame, with the silky material falling off your shoulders, dangerously close to revealing too much. 

Not that it isn’t a welcome sight—he is a man after all. And while he prides himself on his exceptional self control, it becomes an issue when he feels himself grow hot and the loose clothes he likes to wear at home begins to feel too tight. He can’t rub one out while you’re here, so perhaps a cold shower might ease his condition…

But you’re more perceptive than he’s given you credit for.

“It’s not as magnificent as my tail, but this body is still quite impressive isn’t it?” 

“I’ve never met anyone as shameless as you.”

…

“Well, I don’t think you’ve ever met anyone like me at all.” You flash him an amused smile, but the sultry look in your eyes relay a different message entirely. He can’t lie, it excites him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he mumbles under his breath. To his chagrin, your curious hum cuts through the room and he hears the heavy thud of a book slammed shut.

Of course you heard him. With renewed interest, you swing your legs over the edge of his bed, sauntering over until you’re close enough that he can smell the faint scent of his mint shampoo in your hair. 

“Oh? And what could I possibly be doing to you?” Your fingers walk up his body, slowly, from his toned stomach to his chiseled chest, leaving his skin hot through the fabric of his clothes, “Won’t you enlighten me?” 

You look up, that wide-eyed gaze of feigned innocence flickering into something sharp and dangerously seductive. A hand settles on his shoulder, pulling him in until you’re close enough that your lips are only a hair’s breadth away from his sensitive ears. The other reaches down and ghosts against his obviously growing bulge, before pressing down, palming him through his pants. Alhaitham bites back a groan. 

“Or rather, what would you like to do to me?” Your voice rings low and smooth as silk to his ears. It leaves a wave of desire to bubble in the pit of his stomach, one that doubles down on the dull ache at his crotch.

His mind sifts through a thousand thoughts. Lascivious thoughts, sinful, perverted thoughts that only seem to make their presence known when in your company. Just one glance down at you and he can see how ridiculously easy it would be to untie the lazy knot that’s hardly holding your—no—his robe together. 

“I…” 

It’s hard to think when you overwhelm all his senses, poking at the urges he has so carefully suppressed up until now. His robe, his scent. He’s no fool to the way Sumeru City ogles at you—the mysterious stranger who’s able to so casually hang onto the aloof scribe’s arm. It only makes him want to stake his claim across the empty canvas of your skin as well: his mermaid. Perhaps just this once, he’ll let himself indulge in his own selfish desires. 

“Come on, Scribe Alhaitham,” you emphasize,“use your words.” 

A smug smile forms on your face as you calculate the risks of your next words. 

“Although…if you’ve got nothing to say, why don’t you just show me,” you press close, voice deceptively soft. “I’m more of a hands-on learner anyway.”

For once, Alhaitham lets his body override all sense of rationality, flipping your positions, and pinning you against the wall as he captures your mouth in his. It’s uncharacteristically sloppy and haphazard, with none of the craftiness he displayed on that first and only night you kissed, but it’s intoxicating all the same.

His teeth graze against your bottom lip, demanding entrance, and you’re forced to grasp onto his toned bicep to keep yourself steady as you devour each other with the intensity of all your repressed thoughts. With every second his mouth remains slotted on yours, with every inhale and exhale of breath you exchange, you think that this time, you’re the one who might drown.

He finally tosses you a lifeline once he decides to leave the vicinity of your mouth, and begin his campaign across the rest of your body, starting with the little spot right along the underside of your jaw. Alhaitham takes his time trailing down your neck, catching you off guard when he stops to suck down, hard, on a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

An involuntary gasp escapes, and you can feel him smirk against you, though it quickly fades into a half strangled groan when your hips roll into his. He only continues downward from here, carving kisses into your body and leaving behind colorful little bruises that send liquid fire running through your veins. The further he goes, the more he must uncover, and the only thing standing in his way is the robe you’re hardly wearing.

“Can I…?” he asks in a hoarse whisper, fingers already toying with the sash. 

“Not like you haven’t seen everything already,” you mutter, pulling his face in to kiss him again. 

His free hand snakes down to squeeze your ass while the other tugs on the loose knot, the silky material now free to tumble down your body like a waterfall, hitting every curve along the way. In one fell swoop, Alhaitham takes you to his bed, picking up right where he left off: with a depraved kiss that speaks more than he ever could in relaying the underlying lust that clouds his mind.

“Beautiful.” The word slips out without a second thought. It’s the first time he's ever said it outright. Beneath the fervor, there’s a special sentiment that cushions his tone. It has you buzzing with warmth from the inside out, but whether it’s contentment or embarrassment, you don’t know. Biting your lip, you turn your head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. 

He finds it infinitely amusing that for all your openly brazen flirtations…

“You’re not getting shy on me now, are you?” 

You respond by stubbornly grappling at the edge of his shirt, nails grazing against his muscled abdomen in the process. The startling sensation crackles through his nerves, sending his cockhead twitching in delight. 

“It’s only fair I get to see you too,” you mumble, in what little time you have between kisses. Alhaitham pulls away, a brow quirked in mild amusement. Pausing, he takes this chance to drink in the sight of your naked figure for the second time, though tonight there’s no need to look away. 

It’s exhilaratingly surreal to see your body marked by the undeniable testaments of his touch. It manifests on your skin, where you’re decorated with clusters of little bruises signed by his lips. In your chest, as it heaves for air after all the breaths he’s stolen from right out of your lungs. It persists in the way your eyes draw him in, inviting him, daring him to do more. In how your lips, though slightly swollen, wear the same coquettish grin that’s enchanted him time and again. With no other choice but to surrender to your demands, Alhaitham lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side without a care.

You’ve always thought the man to be handsome, but you’re left wonderstruck as your eyes wander across his bare skin. It’s not like his usual attire leaves much to the imagination, but Alhaitham undressed, is still a sight to see. His toned chest and sculpted stomach, well defined arms… Chiseled by the gods themselves, you think as the corner of your lips quirk just the slightest bit upwards. 

“Enjoying the view?” It’s funny how much his smug smile contrasts with the mottled pink that colors his shoulders and dusts across his cheeks. His skin only flushes more when you trace a finger over the gem on his chest, tantalizingly slow as you make your way down his sternum, and only stopping to lightly flick at one of his nipples. Alhaitham’s breath hitches and you can practically see his muscles as they tense.  

 “Very much,” you answer, hands sinking lower. “So won’t you show me more?”

He catches you by your wrist when he feels you tugging at his waistband, and it takes everything for him to ignore the wanton desperation that’s quickly clouding his mind. It’s difficult, but out of sheer will, he manages to hold back, if only by a thread. 

Gently, he pulls your chin up to face him. Want hides beneath his teal gaze, but there’s a softness that truly shines through, encapsulating the delicate balance between risk and reward.

His hands shift to caress your cheek, before he moves in to steal another kiss. This time it’s sweeter, more chaste. Alhaitham kisses you slow and passionate, interwoven with a tenderness that causes your heart to swell in your chest.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Your resounding ‘yes’ breathes a renewed ardor into his actions as he lowers you onto your back. Little by little, he makes his way down your body, leaving wet kisses everywhere except where you want him most. A kiss here, a lick there—the heat that pools in your belly only grows by the second, but a harsh suck right below your hip causes your breath to hitch and your cunt to drool more in response while you whine and attempt to rub your legs together for any sort of friction.

They are, however, aptly spread back apart when he hooks his arms beneath your thighs and pulls you closer to where he kneels at the edge of the bed. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, “and we’ve only just begun.” Alhaitham lets out a low chuckle as he presses another kiss to your inner thigh. It’s enough to have you shivering in anticipation, the reverberating tremors of his deep voice going straight to your pulsing hole, wet with the slick of your arousal. One of his hands moves to hold you down as you jolt when his teeth graze against the delicate skin.

“Will you please just hurry up,” you’re barely able to get all your words out before your voice breaks into a breathless gasp as he takes you by surprise, dipping his head down to lick a long stripe up your glistening folds and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue once he reaches the top. 

Talented in more ways than just words, you find out firsthand exactly how good he is with his tongue. Like a man starved, he laps up all you have to give, while your gushing hole happily churns out more slick. But it isn’t nearly enough. Especially not with the way you’re grinding into his face and singing praises to his name.  

Alhaitham doesn’t consider himself an arrogant man, but he’s never loved hearing the sound of his own name more. It falls through your lips in a trail of whimpers, your pretty little cries music to his ears, delicate and lyrical. His tongue prods at your entrance, occasionally dipping into your warmth, and as he closes in, his nose bumps against your puffy clit. It has you keening, and your hands come flying to tangle in his ashen hair as your voice splits into a sharp gasp. 

He takes a mental note of your reaction before moving to suckle on the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing out another beautifully broken sob. With every exhale, and every swipe of his tongue, Alhaitham breathes life into your cunt—leaving it to drip with arousal and clench around nothing. Your fingers curl in his tresses and you tug hard. The low groan he emits reverberates through your body; the rumbling vibrations of his own pleasure sends you crawling to your high. 

But he soon pulls away and you’re quick to let out a pitched cry in protest. He peers up from between your parted thighs, sharp eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you squirming at the loss of contact. 

“Haitham,” you whine pitifully, hips blindly stuttering in search of his touch, “don’t stop.” 

Oh how the tables have turned. Before him, your tiny hole clamps around nothing and a sly grin creeps onto his face, devilishly handsome and glistening with your essence that so freely drips down his chin. You’ve teased him relentlessly during the span of your partnership, and as per your logic, it’s only fair he gets to do the same.

“Beg for it,” he purrs. His warm breath fans across your folds, sending you into a frenzied fluster from the bottom up, and you feel as if you’re going to melt.

“P-please…” It’s difficult to come up with any words, much less the right words, to say when the overwhelmingly wanton desire for him to just touch you again, has your brain enveloped in a thick haze. “Need you…Haitham please…”

His name, entangled within the sweet pleas that fall from your lips, has his cock twitching again, eager to be freed from the constraints of his pants. But if he can ignore the wet spot forming from his own precum, then he can do the same to the way his hips seem to move on their own, slowly rutting against the bed. He’s a patient man, he can wait. You on the other hand… 

You’re so needy for him, so lost trying to chase your own pleasure, that it doesn’t even register when he wets two fingers in his mouth, unable to process anything until you feel the faint stretch in your cunt that has you trembling in anticipation. His fingers slide easily into your creamy insides, and he only watches in amusement at the way your hips buck, silently begging him for something more than the painfully slow, lazy way he’s pumping in and out of you. 

“You’re already so tight...” He lets out a breathy chuckle as he scissors you open, resisting the way your velvety walls come down, hugging every inch of the digits inside you. “How are you even going to take me, hm?” 

You open your mouth to respond but nothing ever comes out, save for the faint breath of a moan that manages to escape. If you were in the right state of mind, you would’ve been sure to fire back something smart, however, your thoughts have been reduced to fixate on Alhaitham, who’s rather keen on keeping it that way.

He moves his wrist, twisting and turning, relentlessly searching until the pads of his fingers press against a spot just right, that it has your toes curling and back arching off the bed in a loud cry. He curls his fingers, bullying the spongy spot until echoes of your melodic mewls are undeniably present amongst the lewd squelching of your wetness. It sends him reeling and growing impossibly harder—oh how he so adores the way you unravel before him. 

Your body runs hotter than ever and you feel the coil in your belly tighten, ready to snap. You’re going to cum. You’re so close. Just a little more. It repeats like a mantra in your head, but your impending climax dissipates as he draws both fingers back out, leaving you dangling at the precipice with a distressed wail, frustration pathetically painted across your face.

Why did he just do that? Your eyes are large and laced with tears that quiver and threaten to spill down your face. Ignoring your futile attempt at garnering pity, Alhaitham only continues to taunt you.

“Will you look at that?” he says, toying with the messy slick that glosses over his middle and index fingers like webbing, stretching and breaking along to the movements of his hand. It’s such damning evidence of how much you need him, but it’s also somehow mesmerizing, so much so that you’re unable to look away. It doesn’t help that your sopping cunt only weeps more at the sight, absentmindedly fluttering around nothing.

He drags you out of your thoughts as he unexpectedly takes your clit back into his mouth. His hot tongue swirls around your bud, effectively setting your veins on fire, then takes the chance to throw your earlier words back at you. 

“Tell me what you’d like me to do,” he says, mouth never leaving the little nub.

You want him to make you cum, is what you want to say—or rather, you want him to let you cum, considering how he so cruelly ruined your earlier orgasm. But it all only translates into a litany of unintelligible whimpers, and Alhaitham smiles, the mischief twinkling in his eyes now glaringly apparent. He can’t help how endearing it is, that you, who always has so much to say, is now struggling to answer even the simplest of questions.

“Use your words. I want to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“I want… I need…” you’re only able to make out a few words in between your ragged breaths before you’re interrupted by your own broken sob as he sucks down hard on your abused clit.

“Hm? What was that?” 

“Want to cum…” you choke out, eyes sliding shut as you try again with your best efforts.

The latter half of your sentence warps until it rises an octave and melts into a shaky moan. Alhaitham barely gives you just enough time to finish before three lithe fingers find their way into your cunt without warning, slipping past your wet folds with ease. The dull pain of an added finger stuffed into your tiny hole, has you keening, your own knuckles turning white from your steel grip on the bed sheets. 

With a sweep of his tongue, he laves over your swollen clit again, sending shivers through to your core as you feel the tension return in your abdomen, this time wound even tighter from the way he continues to fuck your already sensitive cunt.

“ ‘m so close…please,” your breath catches in your throat as you whimper and squirm. “Please Haitham, please-” 

It’s beyond his own belief how he managed to wrangle you into his bed; the beautiful mermaid who had first tried to drown him, who was always so outspoken and bold— now reduced to a begging, whimpering mess on his sheets. For that, he mentally pats himself on the back and decides to take pity on you. 

“Come on, mermaid. Let me hear you sing.” 

Immediately, you feel his fingers curl, right up against the very spot that has you seeing stars, exactly as he had intended. He drags his teeth carefully, lightly grazing your swollen clit, effectively ripping out a loud, visceral scream as you finally tip over the edge in an earth shattering orgasm. 

Waves of pleasure continue to wash over you as Alhaitham finger fucks you through your high,  vigilantly hitting that sweet, spongy spot over and over again without mercy. You’re left quivering, fingers desperately grasping at the bed sheets, trying to find something, anything to hold on to. His hand, the one that isn’t three knuckles deep inside you, moves to hold your hips down as they twitch in the settling overstimulation. 

A satisfied hum rumbles in the back of his throat as he finishes off with an easy kiss to your inner thigh. He finally slows down his movements as you ride out your high, though the shallow, wet noises as he rocks his fingers in and out of you, seem all the more erotic against the backdrop of your dissipating cries. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” he coos. “Such a pretty thing—so gorgeous when you cum for me.” Alhaitham continues to whisper sweet flatteries that have you preening until he feels you clench weakly around his fingers once more. He raises a brow, the beginnings of a small smirk forming on his face.

“Of course you like to be praised.” Despite the lilt in his voice, he draws his soiled digits out with care, though you still shudder as he passes through your sensitive folds.

“Shut up.” 

Even as you sit up to catch your breath, your eyes wander over to the man’s bare upper body, before they drift down to the impressive tent bulging from his pants. Suddenly, you’re made painfully aware of how utterly empty you are. Arousal pulses through you, once again dripping out of your cunt at the thought of being stuffed full.  

Your obvious staring doesn’t go unnoticed; and neither does the way you shift as you’re rubbing your thighs together for more friction. Your shamelessly perverse act only reinforces the thrum in his already rock hard cock.

“Open up.” You do as you’re told, intuitively wrapping your lips around his long fingers, cheeks hollowing as you clean off the mess you had left. It spurs him on, the way you hold his gaze with those large doe eyes, blinking so lasciviously when he draws them back out, leaving behind a trail of saliva that snaps like gossamer on your lips.

“What, haven’t had enough of me yet?” He teases you, yet the slight waver in his voice as he struggles to mask just how much he’d like to cum right then and there, says otherwise. 

“Not nearly enough.” 

Your playful wit is nothing new to him. And while Alhaitham considers himself to be quite well versed in how you love to play coy, an expert in navigating around your flirtations—he’s far from immune to your coquettish displays. He’s only human after all… 

So it’s no fault of his own that you drive him absolutely insane.

Pupils blown wide and dilated with lust, he dips down until you can feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, “I hope you don’t regret that.” His smooth baritone sends a shiver down your spine until it pools between your already sticky thighs, a vague promise of what’s to come.

Before you know it, he catches you in another eager kiss, rough and hopelessly greedy, as you fall back onto the mattress without a care. It only heightens your sense of urgency that he can’t help but grind into you.

His normal attire barely hides his bulge, but even underneath these loose clothes, the outline of his cock stands tall and unmistakably erect against the fabric—which you desperately need removed now, as you fumble with the waistband. Alhaitham chuckles lightly into the kiss before pulling away. Message received. 

He moves quickly, pants and underwear hastily thrown to the side and forgotten, because how could you possibly think of anything else when he stands before you, hands fisted around his magnificent cock, grunting at the little ounce of relief as he gives himself a few quick pumps. Precum dribbles from the flushed pink tip and your eyes follow as he spreads it along the impressive length. You can’t help but think that it’s…pretty. And oh how you adore pretty things.

He lines himself up at your entrance, cockhead just barely dipping inside as he hovers over you, and for the first time tonight, you realize just how incredibly vulnerable you are now, laid bare before him, ripe for the taking. But it’s okay if it’s him. Whether it’s the fuzziness mulling in your head, or your cunt that’s thinking for you, anything is fine as long as it’s Alhaitham.   

Above you, he swallows harshly and you can see the slow bob of his throat as he does so. “Tell me if you need to stop,” he murmurs. The rasp in his voice makes it apparent that it’s taking every ounce of fortitude not to just slam his entire length into you. 

The first hiccupped gasp that escapes your lips has him smiling smugly as he pushes in, splitting you open with ease from how wet you are. But the stretch as you struggle to accommodate his girth burns despite your previous preparation; he’s just so much bigger than his fingers. Inch by agonizing inch, he stretches you wider, whispering sweet nothings while he stuffs you full of his cock. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises, though it’s quickly drowned out by the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Every time you think he’s done, he only continues to push further inside. Your head spins at how full you already feel, unconsciously tightening around him and drawing out a choked curse that rolls tactlessly off his tongue. There’s no helping the way his self control fades when you’re squeezing him like that, your needy cunt intent on sucking him all the way in. 

“Fuck,” he rasps. It’s foreign and depraved and so vulgar compared to his usually eloquent speech—not that it isn't also incredibly attractive hearing him lose his composure like that—but it’s even more so especially because you’re the one making him feel this good. Your heart flutters at the thought and the vibrations of another muffled grunt ripple against your skin when you reflexively bear down again.

Alhaitham bottoms out in one final push, sending you reeling at how the thickest end of his shaft forces your little hole to stretch even wider to accommodate the width. A hitched cry leaves your throat and your arms fly to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as he presses soothing kisses along your jaw, though it does little to quell the heat rapidly igniting throughout your body.

“Are you alright?” There isn’t an ounce of teasing in his tone when he pauses to glance down, giving you a moment to adjust while ensuring you’re okay. 

Your hum of approval is all he needs to start moving in languid strokes that fill you to the brim, his shallow thrusts so lewdly squelching to the tune of your wetness. Each slow drag of his cock forces you to feel very ridge and vein as he grinds back and forth, pulling soft mewls out of you until they melt into breathless whines pleading for something more.

“Faster…f-faster please.” 

Who was he to deny you, when you’ve been taking him so well? Sliding ever so slowly, Alhaitham all but pulls out, leaving only the very tip of his cock to kiss your entrance. You don’t even have time to process the jarring emptiness before he slams his entire length back in with a single thrust, powerful enough to send your entire body jostling from the impact. Your back arches in pleasure, your head thrown back in a silent scream as your mouth falls agape, the sound dying before it’s ever able to leave your throat. 

Alhaitham is relentless when he starts fucking you in earnest. The gentleness from earlier is gone, replaced by the callous way he repeatedly pounds into you, burying himself to the hilt every single time. He’s hitting depths you never thought possible, with each thrust sending shockwaves that ripple through you until it scrambles your mind, shattering that last piece of lucidity stubbornly holding you together.

“That’s it. Take it, just like that,” he coos, but you're too fogged over to comprehend his words. It’s clear your mind is currently occupied by other matters; matters such as the chant of his name atop your long string of strangled cries.

He revels at how pliant you are underneath him—so stimulated and keening out in pleasure at everything he does, greedy cunt eagerly swallowing every inch he offers, pulling him in with every snap of his hips. 

His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking on the nub while he twirls the other between his fingers, groaning when your nails dig into his shoulders, imprinting crescents onto his skin. The added stimulation elicits another set of frantic whimpers, and the familiar tightness in your abdomen returns.

“Haitham I’m…I’m so…” Close, he deducts. He can tell by the way your walls close around him.

Half of him wants to watch you struggle with your words in between all your panting and moaning, wants to withhold your sweet release until you can speak properly while he continues to piston in and out of you. The other half, driven by his wanton throbbing, slides a hand over the curve of your ass, lifting your leg to angle himself just right before plunging deep inside you, hitting that same spot from before that had you seeing stars. 

Loud, broken sobs tear through the room as his tip mercilessly drills into the spongy spot with pinpoint precision. Your nails rake down his back, and a sharp hiss manages to escape from his lips. It only fuels him more, makes his movements more erratic. Over and over, hit after hit, Alhaitham delivers an exhilarating pleasure that drives you to the edge of delirium. Warmth blooms in the pit of your stomach threatening to spill over and seep into every crevice of your being. 

It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s not enough. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. 

“I can feel you falling apart around me.” The corners of his mouth lift in a smug grin, ignoring the fact that his voice comes out in ragged huffs, uneven from his labored breathing.

There’s no use denying how much you affect him as well—not when fire licks his body, coloring his pale skin flush. Nor when his expression is clearly strained, trying so desperately to hold on to his crumbling composure. You’d notice if you still had the capacity to process anything at all, but alas…

He lowers his head into the crook of your neck, nipping lightly at the tender skin before switching to your native tongue. “C’mon my beautiful mermaid…give it to me. Cum for me.”

The white hot bliss that sweeps across your body is maddening and it leaves you absolutely shattered. The vibrato in your voice cracks as you scream and sob, body going impossibly taut. You’re desperately gasping for air, drowning in the waves of euphoria that wash over you, but it pulls you in and drags you further down into delirium. You can’t think, you can’t speak. You can’t stop the trembling in your thighs and you can’t stop your cunt from spasming as he continues to fuck into you.

His pace slows but his strokes are longer and deeper, as if he’s trying to ingrain himself permanently within your walls. Your moans rise in pitch, turning to whimpers when his thrusts continue past your orgasm and into the settling overstimulation, his cock still taking from you where there’s no more to take.

You’ve never felt more like a paradox than you do now. Your head is the clouds, while your body feels heavier than ever. You’re painfully sensitive, squirming to get away as he chases his own release, yet your cunt still pulses and begs to milk his fat cock dry.

Weak arms reach up to cup his face, pulling him in for a lasting kiss, breathing him in like the air you so desperately need in your lungs. When you pull away, your eyes are so dazed and lidded, not yet recovered from the intensity of your orgasm, but already prickling with tears from the burn of overstimulation. 

“Make me yours.”

Alhaitham buries his head in the crook of your neck; there’s no hope of keeping up his composure now. In fact, it’s a wonder he didn’t come from those words alone. You already are, he tells himself. There’s nobody else he could ever want; nobody else could ever compare to how perfect you are for him. 

With a few final thrusts, he presses his weight into you and sinks his cock as deep as he can. He lets out a tattered moan and his hips stutter as he follows you over the edge, the warmth of his hot cum spilling into your insides. 

A fleeting thought crosses your mind: Maybe you want to stay like this forever. So warm and tingly and speared open in all consuming pleasure. 

His body slumps against yours, relaxed and utterly at peace. In the numbing midst of his high, Alhaitham’s mind is for once, a couple beats slower than his palpitating heart.

“I love you.” 

He wasn’t thinking when it had slipped out of his mouth. The words came so naturally, rolled off his tongue so easily. It’s too late by the time he realizes just what he’s said; he hopes to god you didn’t hear him, but it’s the only thing you catch amongst all the white noise. He loves you. Alhaitham loves you. 

It replays on a loop inside your head but your jumbled mess of a brain can only process so much right now. “Love…you…” you barely manage to scrape out. He quiets your empty babbles with another kiss, muffling your whines as he gently—though reluctantly—pulls out of your embrace. You shudder and whine at the loss.

“Easy now,” he soothes, distracting you with praises and soft pecks to your temples. To you, the emptiness in your cunt feels all too foreign, but he can’t help but stare at the lecherous sight of your combined fluids dripping out of your hole. He can already picture it in his head; the wet noise of your slick and his cum, all shoved back into you so that not a single drop is wasted…

Alhaitham shakes the thought from his head, forcibly tearing his eyes away before his own mind can betray him. He excuses himself before soon returning with a glass of water and a warm, wet towel in hand.

Slowly but surely, your lungs steady, and the fog dissipates, and you’re finally able to anchor yourself back to reality. A reality where your throat is dry, hoarse from all the retrospectively embarrassing sounds he had dragged out of you, and your limbs feel so heavy, as if your bones have all but dissolved into jelly.

“Gonna clean you up, okay?” 

With your permission, he helps sit you up, passing you the glass of water before he begins wiping off the excess fluid between your legs. The towel is rough against the still sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you jolt. Immediately, he utters an awkward apology, looking up to gauge your reaction. 

Water, split from the sudden movement, drips down your chin. Loose pieces of hair stick to your forehead; the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin makes sure of that. To look so disheveled yet so gorgeous at the same time…you’re absolutely enchanting in the afterglow. A flicker of pride rushes through him—he did that. The proof was in the bites and bruises littered across your skin. He smiles, sheer adoration present in his eyes. 

Your soft giggle breaks his train of thought. “What are you—” A yawn. “What are you looking at?” The chirp in your tone peaks just the tiniest bit out of your sleep-laden voice, but you’re too worn out to wait for an answer, opting to fall back onto the mattress instead. It’s not long before you fully yield to the exhaustion.

You look so peaceful in your sleep, so human, that he almost forgets you’re not. Still, he wonders how it would feel to hold you in his arms as he sleeps. To wake up beside you and watch as the sunlight illuminates your features.

Would it be selfish of him to indulge just a little more?

Tossing the towel aside, he joins you under the safety of his covers. He wraps an arm around your frame, pulling you close, holding you right next to where his heart beats in his chest. Alhaitham presses a soft, last kiss to the top of your head before he too, drifts off to sleep. 

When morning comes and the golden sun arises, everything will return as it was. Dreams and other such wishful delights are of the moon’s sovereignty, so tonight, let him hold on to this reverie for just a little while longer.

next

a/n2: This was my very first smut piece so I hope you enjoyed :’) Since this is an extra chapter, I tried not to include any details that would drive the plot too much, but ending it with just a tiny bit of angst to transition to the next part. thank u for reading ! ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

okay not that he needs it but what a ego boost it would be if sebastian stumbled upon mc and ominis talking about the guy she likes and she just like he's so out of my league listing positive traits (cue sebastian getting very jealous) Only for ominis to be like just tell sebastian then I don't have to hear you wine about it all the timee

Eavesdropping | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you love it!!! :")

Words: ~4,600

Tags: Love Confessions, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

The stone door of the Undercroft groaned softly as Sebastian pushed it open, stepping carefully inside. He exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. He had snuck out after curfew, hoping to release some pent-up frustration with a few dueling spells.

He was halfway down the stairs when he froze. Voices—two of them—floated up from below.

Sebastian frowned, his grip tightening on the banister. He recognized them instantly. You and Ominis.

What were you doing here so late? He edged closer, careful to stay out of sight.

“I just don’t see the point,” your voice echoed softly. “It’s not like anything’s ever going to happen.”

Sebastian froze mid-step, his grip tightening on the banister. His brow furrowed. What wasn’t going to happen?

“It won’t if you keep dragging your feet,” Ominis replied, his tone dry as ever.

“It’s not that simple,” you shot back warily.

Sebastian tilted his head, curiosity sparking to life alongside a strange, uneasy feeling in his chest. You sounded frustrated—almost pained. What could possibly have you so worked up?

“It is that simple. You’ve been in love with him for years,” Ominis said, his tone cutting. “Merlin, I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve had this conversation. Either do something about it, or stop talking about it.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped. In love? You’d never mentioned anyone. Not once.

“There's nothing I can do, Ominis,” you said, exasperated. “He doesn’t see me like that.”

Sebastian’s stomach twisted painfully. Who was this mysterious he? Why hadn’t you told him about this before? You usually told him everything.

“And how would you know?” Ominis challenged.

“Because I know him,” you replied firmly. “We’re best friends!”

Sebastian’s chest tightened, a painful mix of jealousy and confusion swirling inside him. Best friends? You were his best friend. Who could possibly come before him in your life?

“Right,” Ominis said sarcastically. “Because you’re so unremarkable.”

“Ominis,” you groaned, “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he shot back. “Half the school is in love with you, and you’re acting like you’re some invisible wallflower.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Ominis wasn’t wrong. People were drawn to you—how could they not be? But you’d never seemed to notice, much less care. And now you were sitting here, pouring your heart out about someone who clearly wasn’t him.

You sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and tinged with a hint of defeat. “It doesn’t matter what the rest of the school thinks when he’s completely out of my league, Ominis. With his stupidly handsome face and that ridiculous smile that makes it impossible to think straight…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Merlin, he’s just… he’s everything. Funny, clever, brave, loyal—he could have anyone he wanted.”

For a moment, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under Sebastian’s feet. How could you possibly think that? How could you believe, even for a second, that you weren’t good enough for whoever this bloke was? And the worst part—the part that made his chest ache—was that he couldn’t step in. He couldn’t tell you how wrong you were because he wasn’t supposed to be listening this in the first place.

“And?” Ominis prompted.

“And what?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“You’re always going on about how wonderful he is, which, I’ll admit, I struggle to agree with,” Ominis said with a dry chuckle. “But you never actually tell me how he makes you feel. Isn’t that the important part? Does it matter how... how handsome and funny he is if he doesn't make you feel something special?”

You hesitated, your voice soft and uncertain when you finally spoke. “He… I don’t know. He makes me feel safe, Ominis. Like no matter what’s going on, as long as he’s there, I’ll be okay. And he makes me feel seen. Really seen. Like I don’t have to be the ‘hero of Hogwarts’ or ‘the girl with ancient magic.’ I don’t have to be anything except… me. He knows me in a way nobody else does. And when I’m with him, it’s like—for once—I don’t have to prove anything.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, more painful. Because that’s how he felt about you. You were his safe place, the one person who saw him as more than the brash, reckless troublemaker everyone else thought he was.

And now… now he was realizing that someone else held that place for you.

Ominis huffed a laugh, breaking the silence that followed your confession. “You know, it’s almost tragic.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What’s tragic?”

“That it’s him you’ve fallen for,” Ominis said, his voice laced with dry amusement. “Of all the people in Hogwarts—all the people who would gladly worship the ground you walk on—you’ve managed to lose your head over the most chaotic, reckless, insufferable person I know.”

Your jaw dropped, and a laugh bubbled out of you despite your embarrassment. “Ominis!”

“I’m serious,” he said, smirking. “You could have anyone. Anyone. And yet you’ve decided to pine after someone who probably doesn’t even realize you feel this way because he’s too busy rushing headlong into whatever absurd plan pops into his head.”

You groaned again, shaking your head. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Well, I do,” he replied, grinning. “Because clearly, he’s too thick to notice, and you’re too stubborn to tell him. I’m the one stuck in the middle of this ridiculous mess, forced to play mediator while you both dance around each other like idiots.”

Sebastian felt like his chest was going to collapse. The way Ominis spoke so casually about this guy—teasing, almost affectionate—was like a knife twisting deeper into his gut. Whoever you were in love with wasn’t just close to you. They were close to Ominis, too.

Who the hell is it?

Sebastian's mind raced through the possibilities, his thoughts a chaotic mess of jealousy and dread. It had to be someone you spent a lot of time with, someone you trusted enough to feel safe around, someone who was close enough to Ominis that he could make jokes about their recklessness.

And then it clicked.

Garreth Weasley.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped. Of course it was Garreth. It made perfect sense.

Garreth was charming, clever, and funny. He had that easygoing, confident smile that always seemed to draw people in. He was loyal, too—always ready to back up his friends, even if it meant landing himself in trouble. And he had that playful, carefree energy that made everyone want to be around him.

Sebastian felt sick.

Of course she loves Garreth. Why wouldn’t she?

He thought back to all the times he’d seen the two of you together—laughing in the Great Hall, chatting during potions class, exchanging those little looks that he’d tried to tell himself didn’t mean anything.

But they did mean something, didn’t they?

And then there was Ominis. Ominis liked Garreth well enough, didn’t he? He put up with Garreth’s antics, even joined in on the occasional joke. If you were in love with Garreth, it explained why Ominis was teasing you so mercilessly.

It all fit together too perfectly.

Sebastian gritted his teeth. He wanted to hate Garreth—wanted to hate him for being everything Sebastian wasn’t, for being the kind of person you could fall for so easily.

But he couldn’t hate Garreth. Not really. It wasn’t Garreth’s fault that he was so damn likable. It wasn’t Garreth’s fault that Sebastian had been too much of a coward to tell you how he felt.

He pressed his back against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes and letting out a slow, shaky breath.

I’ve lost her, he thought bitterly. I never even had her, and I’ve already lost her.

“It’s not like I have a choice, Ominis,” you continued on, your voice quieter now, tinged with frustration and something far more raw. “If I could stop loving him, don’t you think I would have by now? Believe me, I’ve tried,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve told myself it’s just a stupid crush, that it doesn’t matter, but it does. And no matter what I do, I can’t… I can’t make it go away.”

“Then why don’t you tell him?” Ominis asked, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “What are you so afraid of?”

You groaned, the sound laden with frustration. “Because it doesn’t matter! He doesn’t like me back, Ominis. I’d destroy our friendship for nothing!”

Sebastian’s heart clenched painfully, the bitter sting of your self-doubt twisting something deep inside him. How could you think so little of yourself? How could you not see what he saw when he looked at you?

Ominis let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t think he deserves you,” he muttered. “Merlin knows he’s well aware he doesn’t deserve you. But you can’t decide his feelings for him. That’s not how it works.”

You scoffed. “Your point?”

“I’m just saying,” Ominis replied, his tone exasperated, “that you’re doing both of you a disservice. It’s… it’s getting to the point where something has to give. Either you tell him how you feel, or—”

“Or what?” you interrupted, glaring at him.

“Or I will,” Ominis said firmly, his expression unyielding.

You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Ominis said, his smirk returning. “I’m tired of watching you both suffer in silence. Merlin knows Sebastian’s too dense to work it out on his own. Maybe hearing it outright will knock some sense into him.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped.

It’s me.

The thought hit Sebastian like a stunning spell, freezing him in place as the pieces of the conversation finally fell into place. Every word, every hint, every exasperated sigh from Ominis—it all pointed to the same answer, one that he’d been too blind, too self-critical, to see.

You were talking about him.

You were in love with him.

His breath hitched, and his grip on the banister tightened as his heart pounded so loudly he was certain you and Ominis would hear it. The jealousy, the doubt, the sharp ache in his chest—all of it melted away, replaced by a dizzying mix of disbelief, relief, and something far brighter: hope. Because you loved him.

“I mean it,” Ominis was saying now, his tone both firm and teasing. “If you won’t tell him, I will. Frankly, I’m tired of sitting through these endless heart-to-hearts when the solution is so obvious.”

You groaned, your frustration evident. “Ominis, I swear—”

“Do it, or I’ll make it the most public confession Hogwarts has ever seen,” Ominis threatened, though the smirk on his face made it clear he was only half-serious.

Sebastian couldn’t stay silent any longer. His feet moved before his mind caught up, carrying him down the remaining steps until he was standing in the open, his gaze fixed on you.

“Ominis won’t have to say a word,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning inside him.

You and Ominis both turned toward him, your expression contorting into shock while Ominis grinned.

“Sebastian,” you breathed, your eyes wide.

Ominis crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “Ah, there you are."

Sebastian ignored him, his focus entirely on you. “Is it true?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Everything you just said… is it true?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out at first. Your gaze flickered to Ominis, as if silently cursing him, before returning to Sebastian. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he admitted, taking a step closer.

You flushed, your hands twisting nervously at your sides. “Sebastian, I—”

“Just tell me,” he interrupted gently, his eyes searching yours. “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, your breath hitching, before finally nodding. “Yes."

For a moment, Sebastian couldn’t speak. He just stood there, staring at you, his heart so full he thought it might burst. And then, without thinking, he reached for your hands, his grip firm but gentle.

“You’re in love with me?”

Your cheeks burned, but you held his gaze, your voice trembling as you said, “I am."

“I love you, too,” he said simply, the words spilling from his lips like they’d been waiting years to be spoken. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember."

Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. “You… you do?”

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “I do. More than anything.”

Ominis cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Well, now that that’s settled, perhaps you two can finally stop making my life so unbearably dramatic.”

Sebastian shot him a look, but there was no real anger behind it. For once, he was too happy, too relieved to care about Ominis’ meddling.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of everything left unsaid finally lifted. And then, with a soft, almost hesitant smile, Sebastian tilted his head and closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was certain.

When the kiss broke, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, his smile soft but unshakably certain. “You’re stuck with me now,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. And as you laughed, the sound light and filled with a joy you hadn’t felt in years, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[kierahn]

yandere ! ceo x stripper ! male reader for @rin-sama-writes.

[ nsfw, minors dni. ]

hi, i read your ideas in my inbox and i just had to make a quick drabble about it :] i’ll be making a full one some other time though since i still have 3 prompts to work on. (also, i accidentally published your previous ask before i got to complete the draft, so it got deleted. i’m so sorry,, 🥹🙏)

this is more of a power bottom reader, but i'll do a couple of dom readers soon. this just is a small warm up lol.

× cero had a long and tiring day of filling up paper works, organizing documents, attending several meetings, and the likes; usual CEO stuff. so to reward himself for a job well done, he decides to ask his driver to drive him to your workplace after work. he deserved a treat or two from you.

× the moment he stepped foot inside the nightclub you worked at, it was like a message had been sent to all the present employees. everyone scurried away the moment cero blessed the room with his presence, rushing to prepare the v.i.p room that he had built specifically for you and him to have some fun alone; away from prying eyes. no one deserved to see you in that blissed out state but him.

× the performers that you worked with on stage stopped to inform you that a client had requested your presence in the v.i.p room.

× it was him again, the man whose name you learned was cero, dressed in designer clothes from head to toe and a branded watch around his wrist. everything about him screamed rich which made him an immediate target for you. it was so easy to have guys like him all hooked up on you like some moth drawn to a flame.

× usually, cero would tease you or whistle upon seeing you enter the room, but he was strangely silent tonight.

× you approach the leather couch where he was seated and noticed how his usually neat appearance seem to be absent today. his hair was slightly a mess and his tie was crooked. he looked tired overall.

× normally, you wouldn’t care much about his wellbeing. however, you couldn’t help but notice how cero didn’t seem to be performing his best today. his thrusts were sloppy and he wasn’t hitting the right spots for you to feel good. even prepping you was a major fail ! you ended up scratching his back when he tried to put himself inside, expressing your discomfort.

× with a sigh, you stop him. “i think i’ve seen enough,” you say exasperatingly, detaching yourself from him. his grip on your waist seem to tighten, a conflicted look on the ceo’s face. he almost looked like a kicked puppy.

× he tried to protest, but you stop him by holding up a finger to his lips. “look, sir, i can see that you’re tired.” you trail your hand to cup cero’s cheek and glaze your thumb under his eye. you stayed seated on his lap, cero’s tired eyes gazing up at your own.

× “i’m fine. i’ll manage, i just need you right now.” cero stubbornly protested, a slight rasp in his voice. his hands trailed down your waist to resume what you two were previously engaged in, but you grab his wrists gently. “say.. how about i do all the work tonight ?” you insisted.

× it wasn’t like you were worried about him, you simply couldn’t handle any more of his sloppy attempt to pleasure you.

× you left no room for an argument. you shut down his protests about how he possibly couldn’t let you do that, or how he had been doing just fine doing the work. maybe in a normal night he would be good at it, but not tonight.

× you got off his lap and positioned yourself in between his thighs. no doubt, he was still rock hard and raging due to your interruption, but cero still kept trying to insist that you didn’t have to.

× when he tried to grab a fistful of your hair to stop you, you grab his wrist first, sending him a look of warning. he really needed to keep his hands to himself.

× just as the thought crossed your mind, your gaze wandered over to his crooked tie. ‘that could work.’

× without explaining any further, your hands worked to undo cero’s tie. he didn’t seem to have any violent reaction towards it, so you assumed that he was fine with you doing so.

x as soon as you finished removing his tie, you held his wrist together and tightly tied them up together with his expensive tie, much to his surprise.

x “for now, i’ll do all the touching.” you say with an edge to your tone, meaning that what you said was absolute. “if you try to touch me even once, you’ll have to forget about getting what you want.”

× cero furrowed his brows at your words. were you ordering him around ?

× but before he could express a single word of protest, a jolt of his thigh caught him off guard. he bit his lower lip to suppress the lewd sounds that threatened to escape his lips.

× your tongue wrapped around his tip sent him into overdrive. he immediately hardened inside your mouth, a small groan escaping his lips.

× “wai..t, y/n– ngh!” his muscles tensed when you started to move. holy shit. it was as if all his stress melted away.

× it was a foreign feeling for cero to feel so stripped of his control over his own release. it was all in your hands now.. or well, mouth.

x as soon as you got a hold of his whole length in your mouth and you assured that there would be no gag reflex holding you back, that was when you went all in. cero’s ragged breathing and low moans filled the spacious room, along with the sound of your muffled groans.

x it took him a lot of willpower to hold back from forcing you down on his cock and hitting the back of your throat, but he knew that he couldn’t touch you. damned tie.

x cero threw his head back, cold sweat dripping from his forehead as his fingers twitched and itched to lay a hand on you. a quiet whimper escaped from the ceo’s lips when you slowed down to tease him a little.

x when you looked up at him, you were met with cero’s eyes that held a hint of pleading. a plead for relief perhaps. it was quite a new sight, but not an unwelcome one. you were so used to seeing him act so prideful about making you feel good, seeing him in this state wasn’t so bad.

x a slight chuckle. the vibration from your mouth was, surprisingly, enough to make the ceo finish inside your mouth. you slowly pull out, his load staining the inside of your mouth and your tongue white.

x who knew he was this sensitive. you avert your gaze to study cero’s aftermath. his hair clung to his skin that glistened with sweat, eyes clouded with bliss, and he panted heavily like some dog in heat.

x you couldn’t help but smile in mischief at the realization that you could put a powerful man like him in such a state.

[nocturn-warrior]

Ne t'enfuis pas

Adrian Ţepeş x reader

Summary: You are his first love reincarnated and after 300 years, you finally meet again.

Rating: fluff, hurt, comfort

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, Nocturn season 2 spoilers!!!

Nmed after Kate Bush's Ne T'enfuis Pas. This is heavily inspired in Bram Stoker's Dracula by Coppola and mayyybe Nosferatu by Eggers <3 It's been so long since i've written, i am honestly rusty. Sorry for taking so long with this one.

The water in the pond behind the chateau reflects the light of the crescent pale moonlight above your head. It is the first time in weeks since you could go outside after the sunset without worrying about getting your neck attacked by a servant of the Bloody Countess or a night creature. Small tadpoles swim around, feeding on bugs that have the misfortune of falling in the pond and you watch them idly and with a childlike curiosity. You didn’t want to ruminate at that moment, you wanted to think that everything was going to be fine. 

Still, your unquiet mind couldn’t rest. The scene of the tadpole rapidly consuming the bug reminds you of your own thoughts consuming you. The dreams you’ve had before his arrival; a dark castle with infinite stairs, forests that you’ve never explored, and flashes of scenes flooding your mind every time he is near that feel so much more real than a mere dejavú. But how could you ever put this into words?

Smooth steps are heard padding against the grass and you softly gasp when you see the tall, pale man coming to the spot you are sitting on. His amber eyes glow like the ones of a cat in a dark night as he walks in the shadow announcing his not fully human nature. 

“They are beheading the last one of the day. Won’t you like to see the show?”

Alucard asks with sarcasm, sitting on the opposite side of the pond in a pompous swish. The city's in ruins, but the people are executioning the aristocrats who stood in the side of the vampires during the attack. You don’t answer his question. In fact, the two of you stay in silence for a while, but now and then you peek through the fountain to see if he is still in there and he is perfectly immobile like a beautiful statue in the garden, except for his flouncy hair tousled by the soft breeze. In one of those moments of curiosity, your gazes meet and it feels intense as a lightning hitting your body, Alucard could see your hair standing on end.

“Although I think they should pay for what they did, I don't see the point of gathering in the town to see bloodshed. I’ve seen enough of this in the last few days.”

You answer in an awkward way and twirl your finger around the water, making the tadpoles hide behind a rock to dismiss the feeling that goes beyond embarrassment. Alucard narrows his eyes, cautiously watching your expression, wondering if approaching you now was the right choice. But how long could he keep this to himself? If there is something Alucard learned during these wandering 300 years is that human life is feeble as a crystal, that he’ll see his pals one by one perish to the fog of time. Leaving it be, ignoring the signals would spare him from the very known feeling of grief. Still, there you are. With another appearance, voice and name, yet eyes are the windows of the soul, they say, and Alucard lived enough to know that this might be true. And since yours met during the Eclipse, he knew that calling coming from overseas was not only his duty of destroying Sekhmet’s mummy. He was drawn to your presence like a boat to a lighthouse.

“May i?”

He asks before sitting on the same side as you on the pond, so pale that he seems to emanate his own light and reflect in the pond along with the moon. You nod and he graciously settles himself some palms away not wanting to be invasive, minutely investigating the possibilities and to what paths would they guide him. Your mind is racing with thoughts, so many it could burst. A feeling of urgency that takes you completely and is shared with the man by your side. Gathering forces from an ancient feeling asleep for so too long, you finally speak:

“You have found me… how?”

He hums looking into the pond before answering your question that is so easy to answer yet difficult to put into words when he measures the consequences.

“I felt you calling me.”

You shortly breathe, reminding the nights where that feeling of emptiness would set in as if there was something missing and you would pray for a light, something that could give you a clue of what was the other part of the whole. The dreams that filled your sleep in the following nights left you even more puzzled, but when Alucard arrived, everything was starting to be put in place, for more unbelievable that sounded. 

Before you died, you made Alucard promise that he would find someone else. That he wouldn't have his eternity tied to your memory, that he would find other lovers to fulfill his heart and to give him the love he deserved. Your shaking cold hand held his as you collapsed to smallpox in your deathbed and finally the eyes of your mortal body closed forever. He did as promised. Tens of women and men crossed his path across those thirty decades, but no one of them were you. The same emptiness your oblivious, reborn self would experience now, the dhampir would drag along the mists of years; for you, what was an unknown spectrum, for him it was a very palpable feeling that seemed to almost materialize itself.

Your eyes fill up with tears, a rush of emotions suddenly rises as Alucard watches you break down, still hesitant. His slender hand reaches out to touch your shoulder and you shudder; like the sun coming out from the clouds, a myriad of memories start to bloom. Alucard’s eyes are wide open in shock, harm of fear is the last thing he wants to inflict on you. But how could he have been causing it when all you could see in front of your eyes was him and your life together? Piece by piece like a broken porcelain, you see snippets of the past. 

You suddenly wrap your arms around his shoulders, a hug so unpredictable and strong that Alucard had to hold onto the bricks of the pond otherwise you would fall directly into it. Once steady, He slowly retributes the hug, face resting on the crook of your neck as you sob tears of unbelievable happiness into his white hair. A small salty droplet roams his cheek too and when he realizes the emotional boy he used to be was here again. Slowly, you pull off from the embrace, drying your tears with the sleeves of your dress and say while cupping his angelical face in your hands, strands of white hair sticking onto his skin. You smile and say before pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips:

“And you came to me… from the sky like an angel.”

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

My Lady

Feyd Rautha x Fem!Reader

Word count : 6.5k

Warnings : SMUT! let me know in the comments if I’ve missed anything

Summary : You’re being married off to the mysterious Na-Baron of Giedi Prime. Feyd Rautha is a strange man, but his confusing mannerisms frustrate you throughout his stay in your planet. However, how do you supposed he feels about you?

.

Feyd Rautha is a leader.

Feyd Rautha is a prince.

He has a whole nation willing to submit to his every request. He does not have time to be waiting for his alleged ‘bride’.

So why is he standing in the hallway like a lost child? It only heightens his anger, his frustration.

You must be making him wait out of spite, since it’s so obvious you harbour no reason to appreciate this marital alliance. He’s already drafting up wicked ideas of what his witch for a wife will look like; clearly you haven’t shown yourself until the last moment to be spared from any chances of spending time with your new husband.

Of course, it’s no secret that the Reverend Mothers’ breeding program may seem ‘unfair’ to some. Like pairing such a worthy, well-bred prince such as Feyd with a young woman who hasn’t been raised right - this must only benefit the alliance of nations and different species.

His posture can only be described as perfection. His shoulders drawn and broad, hands tucked behind his back in an orderly manner to appear more powerful - after all, first impressions are important for alliances.

Even in thought, he cannot call this a marriage. The very thought of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, one that he desires to get rid of as quickly as possible.

However, with perfection comes sacrifices. Since the moment he stepped foot onto your land - your territory - Feyd braced himself as if he were walking straight into an ambush and you were the enemy. His muscles strained against the plain, dark cloths he’d adorned today instead of his usual armour. He was vulnerable to his surroundings now, unshielded and alone.

He pays close attention to the hallway he finds himself dawdling in. It’s dim, built with smooth bricks that are cool to the touch. But that is no distraction for what is to come any moment now.

In mere moments, the two of you were to meet for the first time and officiate your marriage. You were to be his wife, provide him with children and continue the Harkonnen lineage. That is what a successful alliance was, as well as what was expected of by the Reverend Mothers who set up this marriage in the first place.

Feyd forces any kind of hesitation out of his mind, why should he be unwilling? All you needed to do was perform your marital duties and live with him. You don’t even need to be in the same room with him after that. It was simple enough for Feyd to understand after it had been instilled in his head ever since he’d been born.

Feyd was ready to commit to making this alliance work out for both of your nations. As for his own martial duties? It would be as easy as his fights in the arena, entertaining even. You’re just another enemy he needs to fight off in another way.

He doesn’t flinch when the door next to him opens slowly and your father comes out, inviting him in to meet his newly wed.

Then he saw you.

He cannot begin to explain the flood of unfamiliar emotions that crashed once he caught sight of you. He knew you wouldn’t look like his own kind - but this is something entirely different. You are unlike his Darlings back in Giedi Prime, unlike any kind of princess or woman who has come to witness his battles. His feelings towards you deviate from the usual ones he’s been indoctrinated to feel. You’re beautiful in a way that aches.

You are the beginning of his newfound hunger for something new, something he simply doesn’t want to understand.

Feyd Rautha is smitten. So profoundly smitten, it causes him pain that he doesn’t enjoy for once. It gnaws at his bones as he continues to glare at you while entering the room.

“Please, My Lord, have a seat.” You sound mostly unaffected, he isn’t able to piece together what is forming inside your mind. But he can already tell. You’ve probably studied him before this, obvious from your lack of surprise which surprisingly pains him. He wants to know what you’re thinking.

Deep down, he craves to know if you’re experiencing the same feelings as he is now.

Even if he can’t decipher them.

He opts to stand by the chair you’d gestured to, but it only brings a small hint of confusion as you rise out of your chair to greet him.

“Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, you are a mighty warrior and prince. I am glad to become your wife and unite our nations.” You’re dressed for the occasion; your pure white gown flows while you move, practically making your face glow as if you were the only significant thing in the room. And you were to Feyd.

You were his bride.

You were his and that is what mattered to him. Having possession over the finest woman in all the land, it was like a blessing in his honour.

He ignores your suspiciously dull tone, overcome by the sheer beauty that he is currently facing instead.

“As am I.” Feyd struggles to force these words out, he could almost choke on them. His raspy tone seems to shock you, your eyes widen for a split second.

But then you relax just as quick, crossing your hands over one another as you look up at him to talk.

“In my culture, we commemorate marriage with rings. A symbol of our union. We took the time to forge a pair for the occasion.”

He’s too busy watching your lips to pay attention to the servant holding out the rings, but quickly takes one and entraps it inside his fist.

“My Lord? Will you not wear your ring now?”

He almost felt himself falter at the sight of your concern - it seems genuine. The gentle frown on your lips as you wait for an answer tugs at his chest. You wanted him to honour your nation, you wanted him to honour his own marriage.

Feyd doesn’t answer, only unclenching his fist slowly and then sliding the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly, prompting him to examine it for a couple of moments before being interrupted by you again.

“I made sure to choose the most special designs for us. We both have a gem sacred to our culture in the centre of the ring. Look.” You guide your hand towards his cautiously, observing his reaction for any kind of surprise or aggression.

Feyd stays as still as a stone, allowing your tender hand to gesture to the gem encrusted in his wedding band. Although the jewel is a deep, crimson colour it has a small glint that catches his eye. It looks rather simple compared to his Harkonnen style ring, symbolising his lineage and loyalty to his own nation.

Now he had to balance two kinds of priorities: his marriage and his clan.

“When will the ceremony take place?” He finally manages to muster up something showing any kind of intelligence, but it doesn’t phase you. You’re probably already thinking about the rest of your life with a cold, barbaric sadist.

“Well, right now we have just officially married. This was represented by the rings. Tomorrow, we plan on hosting a dinner before I leave for Geidi Prime. Is that all?” Your question isn’t intimidating or full of anger, rather more curious. He’d like to think that you wanted to know more, but now Feyd is mentally batting this newfound want to please you, have you smile or praise him. He is too busy to consider what your true intentions could be.

“Yes. I want to be shown to my chambers.” He nods, placing his hands behind his back once more. To you it looks polite, whereas Feyd sees it as restraining himself. He can’t shake the urge to touch you, claim you properly as his own and see if you’re any different from his own kind. Is your skin softer? What does your hair feel like? All of these questions rush through his mind continuously, pushing his boundaries further and further.

You have no time to respond since Feyd has already left the room, practically charging out with a servant trailing behind him. He cannot bear to look at your face any longer.

It will only feed his delusions of the possibility of love in this alliance.

-

Feyd is no stranger to the nighttime, but the peace that comes with the loneliness is new to him. When he usually stalked the halls in Giedi Prime, tension was thick in the atmosphere, so thick it could’ve choked him. But that wouldn’t have deterred Feyd’s other senses. There was always some reason to have his guard up.

Yet, as he stared up at the moon from the courtyard, there was only the sound of his quiet, quick breaths. He was still dressed in his cloths from earlier, hesitant towards the idea of becoming any more vulnerable if he let himself adorn his nightclothes. The breeze presses against his face gently, gliding off of his skin and clothes as he absorbs the new sensation of the cool air. Your planet was almost as mysterious as you, so many things unexplained that he surprisingly cannot say a bad word about.

The soft patter of gentle footsteps on the cool stones disrupt his solace, prompting Feyd to whip his head in your direction. You’re making your way towards him slowly, holding up the hem of your nightgown to prevent it from getting any stains from the damp grass of the courtyard. His eyes glaze over your figure highlighted in the moonlight, but only more dramatised from the thin, white fabric of your gown. He quickly averts his gaze before you’re able to get close enough to notice, pretending that he hasn’t even bothered to look at you.

You don’t say anything as you approach. Your hands lie limply by your sides once you stand beside him, tilting your head up to look at the moon.

“Do you not have a moon in Geidi Prime?” It’s soft and cautious, as if you’re treading water and trying to see if you’ll sink.

“We do. It isn’t like your planet at all. Hardly anything is similar.” His sentences are short and unintentionally as sharp as his posture.

“That is why we’re married, is it not? To bring together two nations who could benefit from each other.”

He nods in agreement and watches you out of the corner of his eye; he can see the subtle curve of your lips and how it changes your entire face tremendously. Feyd can’t tear his attention away from you.

“I’m glad that you came to my planet, my lord. I’m sorry if this isn’t how a princess should speak… but it will help my people and that is my sworn duty. Thank you.” You add, bowing your head to him shortly. It’s an embarrassment for a princess to be acting so informally when unchaperoned, you scold yourself.

He nods again, and you can feel a hint of amusement bubbling within your chest.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you? Are all Harkonnens like this?” You’re trying not to faint at the possibility of getting shut down or even attacked, yet it hasn’t unnerved you entirely. You don’t know enough about your husband to know what to expect for your honeymoon in Giedi Prime - which can have consequences for the better or worse.

Finally, he tilts his head in your direction. His eyes linger on your face as his mouth opens to respond.

“No.”

You chuckle, putting a hand to your mouth as you smile and look up at him with those bright eyes that Feyd is beginning to grow some kinds of strange feelings for.

“One of my warriors was sent to Giedi Prime when I found out who I was to marry, so I could understand who I would spend my future with. He saw you fighting in the arena - you were much more talkative then.” Your tone is playful as you wait for an answer, shifting closer to him.

Feyd is biting his tongue, letting the molars press deep to the point he feels some kind of pain that brings pleasure. His usual way to cope with complex feelings.

But he’s not even sure of what these current feelings are.

Feyd usually categorises ‘complex’ as a mix of emotions he’s used to. As if it’s a formula. For example, anger and confusion can lead to frustration, which is something he’s been feeling a lot since he’s laid eyes on you.

But that is not the case this time. He is having an irregular formula that could lead to disaster.

One part of his mind is primal, downright carnal as his gaze flickers to the low neckline of your dress. The way your collarbone is illuminated in the moonlight, how little of your body is covered by this ‘gown’ as his eyes roam your shoulders and neck.

The other is unknown. He cannot piece together why you’re like this, why you’re doing these horrible things to his mind and body. What they could cause him to do if these games go on for too long.

“I am very excited on the battlefield. Like a little boy.” He scolds himself, crossing his arms as he reflects on his last time in the arena.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. You are just enjoying yourself.”

“So you understand the pleasure of winning battle?”

You’re a taken aback at his direct question, almost shrinking as he peers deep into your eyes.

“I am not usually involved in warfare, but I do find there are other ways to seek this kind of pleasure you speak of.” You’re a little flushed now, nervous of where this topic of ‘pleasure’ could lead to. It’s midnight and you’re alone in the courtyard with your newly wedded husband - what could go wrong?

“I am no child. I understand what you speak of when using the term ‘other ways’.” He’s much closer now, glaring down at you with such an intensity that you feel as if he’s searing marks into your skin from his gaze.

“I am so sorry, Na-Baron. I- I should not have brought this topic up! It is very shameful, so I must depart now.” You turn to leave, about to grasp onto your nightgown when his sudden grip on your wrist makes you gasp.

“Why did you call me Na-Baron?” His tone is low, intimidating and sending sparks down your spine that shouldn’t be there.

“Because… because…” you find yourself at a loss for words, too nervous to attempt to form a response.

“You say that I am your lord, so you are my lady.” His voice comes out raspier, every word has an edge to it as he speaks. You cannot help but feel as if this is a command.

As you’re about to retort, state that he’s never called you ‘his lady’ so far, he leans in closer. His plump lips are parted, allowing his hot breath to fan over your skin. It spreads a sweet, hot sensation that brings up a fever in your mind. Suddenly, your judgement is a little more clouded, intoxicated by his presence.

“You have not said that I am your lady yet.” You whisper, exhaling shaky breaths as your eyes dart from his gaze to his lips. Then again. It’s a battle that you’re losing as you’re too focused on the subtle movement on his lips as he lets out shallow breaths.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, at the meal, I will make sure everyone knows you are mine. My lady.” He adds, letting go gently and backing away. His expression remains stern, but there is some kind of mischievous glint in his eyes. A warning of the true nature of this prince.

You try to make out any kind of smirk now spread across his lips, but he’s completely blank. You’re unable to figure out if he’s teasing you or genuinely took your word. You can only assume the best of your husband and what he seems to be planning as you trudge back to your room confused.

-

Your father knows how to celebrate - whether it is marriage, birthday, or even a funeral he has never failed to plan the most suitable occasions.

You are hitched into a tight, colourful gown that was made specially for you. This explains why you don’t complain when the strings are pulled in a slightly painful way, when the emergency embroidering needle pokes you a couple of times or even when you’re beginning to feel a little self conscious. What will Feyd think?

At that moment, you catch a glimpse of your reflection - why are you so concerned about him? At the beginning of the union, you were so well versed in how to be a good wife and princess that you had no time to consider your own feelings. You could only follow the schedule. Yet in such a short time he’s managed to chip you down into the scared little girl that you’ve always been and can never deny. It’s embarrassing. You’re embarrassed for yourself.

He’s given you too many different kinds of signals to allow you to consider his true motives, which completely throws you off after the short encounters from yesterday.

This morning, he greeted you swiftly before going to prepare as if last night never happened.

You scoff, looking down at your ring and brushing your thumb over the jewel now. He’s playing with your feelings. Clearly this is just a honeymoon stage for him: prepare you to continue the Harkonnen line, and then leave you in Giedi Prime to fend for yourself with a whole new nation awaiting you.

You’re just a prize to him.

“Your Royal Highness?”

You turn around hastily. Your handmaiden awaits with shoes in her hands, looking up at you with concern.

“Are you okay?” She continues, handing you the shoes gently.

“I am content. Why shouldn’t I be? I am married to the Na-Baron and joining our nations in the process, which will benefit everyone.” You can’t see how hasty your answer was, how automatic it seemed. It was the only feasible reason to marry the Na-Baron, since true love was not a possible idea anymore in the Reverend Mothers’ breeding program.

Your handmaiden nods feebly, allowing you to sit down and hand the shoes back to her. She’s slipping them onto your feet before a much more quieter question hastily escapes her mouth.

“Are you sure that’s all?”

You blink.

You’re about to open your mouth to speak, to try and organise your emotions with someone who isn’t your unpredictable newlywed.

The door opens and your father strides in cheerily, much to your frustration.

“Come on, dear. The table is set and everybody will be seated soon.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t do anything but what you’re told.

Right now, you just need to listen to your previous training and avoid Feyd Rautha. He’s only trying to follow his own rules too.

You walk with your father, arms linked firmly as the two of you approach the large dining hall. It has been decorated top to bottom in lavish jewels that shine, ribbons that wrap around the entire room and lanterns hanging in corners, feebly illuminating the already bright room. However, when it darkens, they will provide a dim light for a more relaxed atmosphere. You’re not phased by any of this, your father has been planning this ceremony since you could walk. Even though some believe your planet is more ‘backwards’, there is still one similar goal - providing heirs to the throne. You shouldn’t be standing alone once your reign starts, as believed by all the Reverend Mothers who have also instilled this idea into your father.

Along comes Feyd Rautha, the Na-Baron, looking for a suitable wife to continue the Harkonnen lineage and help him rule - it’s almost too perfect. The Reverend Mothers’ were onto this completely.

You only look around, a blank expression pasted onto your face. It’s clear as day how bored you are, which prompts a remark from your father.

“Has he said anything to you?” His tone is deep with suspicion. He eyes you carefully, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What?”

“The Na-Baron. Has he upset you, my dear?” You abruptly stop in your footsteps, meeting your father’s gaze.

“No, father. It’s fine. It’s nothing at all.” You shake your head dismissively, sighing and wringing your hands together now.

“You will get used to it - that’s the part that strengthens your marriage. Getting through the hardships and coming to face your situation with a heart of gold, the one that I’ve raised you to have.” He smiles at you fondly, pinching your cheek gently.

Although his words don’t seem to comfort you, you still smile back and nod goodbye as you walk down the long hall to reach your seat.

In the traditional manner of your nation, the bride and groom sit on opposite ends of the large, winding table that stretches from one end of the room to the other. This gives you plenty of time to enjoy the lack of the Na-Baron’s presence, as he seems to trick your mind everytime he is near you.

You take your seat, sitting upright in the grand, wooden chair. It’s hard to get comfortable, forcing you into position for the entirety of the dinner.

Feyd has now entered the room. His stride is intimidating, emitting solidity and power. He’s dressed in an all black uniform once more, but his ring is clear on his finger as he pulls his chair out from across the hall. You’re able to see the subtle glint, which almost makes you want to change your mind. Maybe you’re just assuming the worst.

However, you never knew what to expect with the Reverend Mothers and their underlying sinister motives. For now, you choose to avoid him and carry on with your marriage as calmly as possible. As if it were simply just a business negotiation.

He acknowledges you carefully, nodding towards you before settling himself in his own chair. You only nod back clumsily and cease all contact from there.

Guests arrive slowly. Friends from aristocratic families and governors are the majority, but there are still many people who were invited due to their hard work and contributions to society recorded recently. You make sure to greet them all grandly, smiling and allowing them to shower you with compliments. The Na-Baron stood beside you, watching you intently as you interact with everyone in sight. He doesn’t say a word, his jaw tense and teeth grind together as he watches with lidded eyes.

You falter under his gaze for a moment, but stiffen and keep your composure. If this is how he was going to play, then you were just going to trap him in your own game.

For the rest of the celebration, you avert your gaze away from the Na-Baron. Right now, your main focus is the people and celebrating your nation as well as the marriage.

The meal goes swimmingly - empty courses and platters of food now litter the grand table after such a long feast. So long that by the time you’d finished, the sun had set. You focus on swallowing oddly shaped lumps of food, trying not to choke on even the smallest crumb from the searing gaze of Feyd Rautha.

Although, even when you turn to the most obscure corners, seats and groups of people - Feyd’s eyes are glued to you. His dark eyes blend with his pupils, creating some kind of animalistic glint when the lights reflect in his enlarged pupils. You can almost feel two bruises forming into your back from the intensity of his glare.

-

Feyd isn’t hurt, he’s not injured or scratched - but he’s been cut deep. So deep that he’s been searching from the origin of this seething pain since this morning; he almost destroyed his room with the pure frustration bubbling within. He knows it has to do with you. You’re the only woman who’s managed to sway him so strongly that his defences have been drawn back in hopes of some sort of victory.

However, tonight is leaving him with anything but victory as he can’t psychically tear his eyes away from you without feeling tortured. Even if you seem to feel the opposite.

You’re so carefree; you talk to the guests with ease and float around the hall in your gorgeous gown that he just wants to rip to shreds. He can’t bear with his facade of yours.

That’s when he decides he’s going to end it. Right here, right now.

-

You’re in the middle of a conversation when, over the chatter and laughter, you hear it.

Charging footsteps across the hall. You cannot deny who it is, and you’re grasping for any idea of what to say when he now stands beside you.

“My wife.” He declares, unbothered by the concerning throttle filled charge from seconds ago. His voice is sudden, hoarse like usual and rough around the edges.

You’re at a loss for words, smiling timidly at the couple you were just talking to as he now takes your arm firmly and links it around his own. When you finally look up at him, he’s not smiling. He’s unreadable right now.

The cool fabric of his black cloths rub against your skin, barely covered by the sheer fabric of your sleeves.

“My husband.” You nod at the couple, who hastily bow to him.

For the rest of the night, he’s attached to you like a bodyguard. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t smile and does not look at you once. The only sense of security seems to be the arm still linked with yours.

-

“Why did you do that?”

He pauses when you tear your arm away from him, staying still in his position as you create distance between the two of you.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can- can give me so many different ideas about you? Is that okay? Is it, my lord?” Your voice trips and stumbles as you struggle to even consider what you’re saying as the words fall out of your mouth with no regard for the Na-Baron.

“I don’t understand you! I know it’s been such a short time- and you cannot seem to talk to me- but I just need to know what your intentions are! I am married to you! I deserve to know!” You continue, pausing to gasp for air and let your shaky breaths fill the large, empty room of yours.

The celebrations had died down and the Na-Baron had decided to walk you to your room. Yet on the way there, your tears seemed to form and burst the minute the two of you were locked away in your room.

“My lady..” he murmurs, approaching you slowly. You’re crying, sniffling and backing away with every step he takes.

You’re so desperate to get away from him, but at the same time you’re dying to just throw something at him.

With too many thoughts rushing through your head, the thought never occurs to you of where you were actually going with your unsteady backwards footsteps.

“My lady.” He’s much closer than you realised. You attempt to back up further, but meet resistance with your wardrobe. A strong arm now blocks your last method of escape, caging you against the wardrobe.

He has you cornered. His eyes watch you intently, plush lips parted slightly as he breathes hard.

“You have bewitched me, changed me for what I am. I am no longer a warrior, no longer the Na-Baron since the moment I saw you. I knew that I was to be your husband, but I also knew that as a woman so capable and beautiful - I did not deserve you.”

His face has contorted and twisted into something entirely different; jaw tense with anticipation, eyes soft and pleading as they look at you directly. He’s waiting for you to say something, anything.

You’re in utter shock. This must be the most words he’s said since meeting you, but you’re hanging on to every word. Looking up at him with so many emotions swimming through your eyes that it’s like a turbulent sea.

He exhales, before continuing to speak.

“But I want you. I want you to be mine - my wife.” He sucks in a breath after saying this, as if it pains him somehow to spill such a secret. His brow line furrows in frustration as he attempts to explain, “We barely know each other, but all I know is that there’s been something about you that I ache for. Do you understand? You play with my feelings, my lady. You confuse me, anger me and entice me all at once. A warrior like I shouldn’t feel this way, he shouldn’t let his guard down for a woman. But that is what I’m willing to do right now in order to make my intentions clear.”

As he whispers this, he offers a hand to you carefully. Feyd now watches you intently, waiting for your response.

The room is dim, slithers of moonlight drag across the room in strange rays, casting a glow on the Na-Baron. He’s utterly pitiful in this moment, the moon now bringing to light his vulnerability.

You let out a jagged breath, desperately searching for words to say. When you can’t seem to find any, you bring your hand to his slowly. Your fingers intertwine and clasp each other firmly - an invitation. His hand is cold, calloused and engulfs your own.

You look up to him only to find that another layer has seemed to vanish, his dark eyes now gaze at you longingly. They trail over your dress, and you can almost hear the cogs ticking in his mind.

You swallow thickly, before letting out a hushed murmur, “Are you attempting to undress me with your eyes, my Lord?” There’s a bit of humour to it as a ghost of a smile graces your lips, but it’s overcome by that suddenly dry feeling in your throat and newfound, carnal want for Feyd Rautha.

“If I wanted to, your dress would be in ruins by now, my Lady.” He may banter with you, but there’s also some concern hidden beneath. Do you want him to touch you? What if you don’t like it?

Yet, with a small shrug, you respond.

“I won’t stop you, if that seems to be what we both want.”

His eyes widen slightly, the rush of giddiness that he would usually feel after winning a battle seems to flood his senses. It’s shameful how he now lets go of your hand to run both of them down your waist. It’s deliberately slow. Teasing, even.

“The ties are in the back, Feyd.” You urge, prompting him to move his hands to your back and begin to remove your dress. He’s still lightheaded from the rush of sensations encapsulating his mind, but he’s able to force out his question.

With his arms wrapped around your waist to reach your back, his face is buried in the crook of your neck now. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine as he speaks.

“Do you like this dress?” You can feel his lips against your neck now as he talks, but sense him holding back. He’s waiting for the right moment.

You shake your head.

He instantly rips the drawstring of your corset, it’s deliciously animalistic as he tugs it off and allows himself to get a good look at you. His eyes wander hungrily across your body, glancing up at your face as he searches for any reaction.

You’re completely frozen, overwhelmed by the different sensations rushing through your mind: the cold air on your bare skin, his warm, shallow breaths as they leave patches of heat on your body and his intense, unrelenting gaze.

“Do you want this?”

There’s a pause as you attempt to muster any words out of your dry throat. You finally swallow any anxiety, before answering in a whisper.

“Yes, I do.”

His lips are so soft as they push against yours, plush and comforting in contrast to his rough grip on your waist and back to pull you in as close as possible. You don’t retort, arching yourself into him and reaching a desperate arm to wrap around his neck. His hands are large, calloused and cool to the touch as they press into your skin hard. It only pushes you further into him, moaning into the kiss at the pleasurable pain.

Suddenly, you pull away to gasp for air only to be met with dark, pleading eyes that seem to beg you to stay.

“I.. I want to..” you’re a little out of breath, flushed and nervous as you place both hands on his firm chest. Your fingertips trace over the cloth lightly, but ultimately reach his buttons and claw at them hungrily. Your efforts are futile as you’re too enveloped by lust to register how to unbutton his clothes, leading him to place a hand on yours to guide you slowly. Button by button, he reveals himself to you.

His skin is pale, smooth as you run a tentative hand over his chest. His heartbeat is rapid, his breathing is strained as his gaze is fixed on you. He’s got a chiseled body, unscathed and untouched for a warrior. You can only let out a shaky breath as he begins to guide you to the bed, a hand cupping your face.

You’re not thinking straight, your mind finally coming to a halt when you realise your situation. He’s on top of you now, on both knees as he leans over to stroke your face, which has been frozen with shock.

“My lady..” Feyd murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’s surprisingly gentle, but you can feel is erection pressing against your stomach as he’s worshipping your beauty.

You squirm under his grip, strong hands gliding over your neck and shoulders attempting to make you wait. But you’re becoming greedy, you want him now.

A small whine escapes your lips as you try to create some kind of friction, which causes him to smile. It’s a smirk. Cocky and teasing as it spreads across his lips.

“You’re desperate, my lady, aren’t you?” His voice is still low, hoarse as he tries to not lose his focus from the slight tingles of pleasure the friction is providing him. He wants to engross himself in the moment before ravishing you, no woman has been so vulnerable in his grip like this before.

He leans in, his gaze trailing along your features as he searches his prey for weak spots. His mouth lands on your neck, sucking on the delicate skin hungrily. You can’t remember what he’d said before, plagued by the newfound sensation of his wet saliva cooling the hickey tainting your skin.

You don’t even want to answer, a sigh escaping your lips at the pop of his mouth as he pulls away from your neck. A small, desperate whisper is all you can force out before you try to move your hand down to your thighs. It’s grabbed by his own and pinned back into the mattress.

“Don’t over-exert yourself, my lady.” He’s still smirking as he begins to steady himself at your entrance, but is just as desperate as you are to get his fill.

Your thighs are pushed apart with his spare hand, allowing him to let out a satisfied groan at the sight of you. Without warning, his hand lets go of your wrist to find your clit. His fingers brush against it softly, caressing a soft moan out of you which only prompts him to continue much harsher. The sounds are obscene as he toys and teases you, only aiding his own pleasure as he watches you clench around nothing.

The tip of his dick presses against your entrance, forcing you to attempt to push out your hips in hopes of fulfilment. You’re unable to move properly, his cold hands tighten around your body. As you writhe in his grip, your gaze flickers up to meet his. There’s a suspicious glint in his dark pupils, paired with the subtle upturn of his parted lips.

Suddenly, sharp sensation erupts within your body, one that tries to push your thighs together to only have them wrap around his firm waist. You can feel the pleasurable stretch as Feyd only savours you inch by inch as he pushes himself in as far as he can. Your skin prickles with heat, spreading across your body like a rash as you find yourself flushed and gasping for air as he pulls out suddenly.

It’s not for long, pushing his dick inside quickly again just to hear your staggered cries. Your body seems to move on its own, rocking yourself against him as he pushes in and out. He’s intoxicating, altering your mind to primal instincts.

His movements become sloppier, his climax becoming more inevitable with every thrust. Feyd begins to lose composure, plump lips parted and panting as his thumb still rubs your clit forcefully. You’re both growing impatient, his begging now becoming audible as the words stumble out of his mouth.

“Please.. please…” you’d never known the Na-Baron to be the kind of warrior to say ‘please’, but you’d driven him over the edge.

You’re also growing louder, whimpering and whining for your climax to come quick and hard. You want it, and you want it now.

You’re the first to come, crying as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your back arches into him as an explosion of pleasure races through your body, tingling through your lower abdomen. However, as the waves of climax subside, you become increasingly more vulnerable to Feyd Rautha still pounding into you.

It only takes him a few more thrusts, but your arm is released from his grip as you cling onto his back. Your nails tear at his skin, the pangs of borderline pain bringing tears to your eyes at the sheer ecstasy of it all.

You hear his breath hitch in your ear, his mouth opens with a gasp as he buries himself inside you for his release. His cum is searing hot, filling your insides hastily as his chest rises up and down rapidly. Feyd doesn’t move for a moment, processing what just happened. But after a few seconds, when your hands loosen and droop down his spine as they’re overcome by fatigue, his arms wrap around you slowly.

He’s embracing you.

You’re both hot to touch, skin slick with sweat as your bodies press against each other. Yet, both of you don’t find any disgust in this. Instead, it’s replaced by a sense of comfort. The certainty that you’re his Lady, as he is your Lord.

[lightofraye]

The Reasons I'm Anti-Danneel (Redone)

I've decided to redo the original post, largely as most of it was heavily drawn/copy-pasted from @taraslittlecorner (now defunct/deactivated) and was not a good fit for me. Listing receipts/evidence of why I feel this way should be calmer, with citations, proof as much as possible.

Here’s a caveat: This is my belief. This is my stance. I am not here to shove this into anyone else’s face and go “You should not be a Danneel fan!” I'm not demanding everyone believe me. This is me explaining why I am not a fan of hers, as to why I dislike her. No, I do not “hate” her. No, I am not obligated to respect her or like her just because she’s Jensen’s wife. That’s absurd.

Whenever possible, I will provide citation. Some I am unable to, because they have been deleted from the internet and unfortunately, the Wayback Machine (aka the Internet Archive) did not archive it and no one else screenshotted/linked the evidence. I will try to keep that as minimal as possible.

I'm placing a content/trigger warning, as there may be descriptions of abuse to follow. If description of abuse bothers you, even emotional abuse, I advise you to skip.

I'll add a cut here because it's going to get long!

**Disclaimer** This are observations and opinions of what I’ve seen, as well as what others have seen on social media, in interviews, etc. Each relationship is different, and each domestic abuse case can vary in degrees of abuse, usually over time, but not always. These are just some of the things we can see publicly, and if things are shown publicly, it’s a safe bet there’s worse happening behind closed doors. I’m not a medical professional nor expert, again, these are opinions and observations. If you suspect someone you love is in an abusive relationship, please contact the proper outlets for battered women and men in your area.

Now to begin.

1. Fat Shaming Him

Jensen eating gummy bears. This post was made as a public stab at Jensen for the amount of gummy bears he was eating. It was a stab at not only his eating habits/weight, but it was also a stab at him being greedy or gluttonous.

Jensen on the carousel. Another stab at Jensen about his weight.

1A. The End Result Of Fat Shaming:

There was this. Yes, it was probably around the time he was training for the marathon with Jared, but this was a scary weight drop. Especially as marathons and running require you to really increase your caloric intake to keep your weight and energy up. On the heels of the public fat-shaming, this is rather shocking.

Dated: January 17, 2018.

Ignoring Danneel's claim of "marathon body", he did look skinny. You can compare how Jensen looked at the beginning of Supernatural to later seasons and there's a distinct difference. He's skinnier. Skinny does not always equate healthy, especially if it's muscle loss.

Unfortunately, other photos are in evidence of the massive weight loss.

This Tumblr post shows him still rather skinny during an event at FBBC.

Every time Jensen has to quarantine with her he starts to look like death warmed over, weight drop, sickly looking skin color, (which is also a sign of malnutrition), and that dead look we can’t get seem to forget. Then we get him back to work, and it’s almost an immediate improvement.

2. Unexplained Injury: There is the chunk that’s missing out of his nose now because of a nose injury that kept being explained in different instances at the same event as to how he even got it. It first appeared a day after the FBBC family reunion event that took place in May of 2018 in a post made by Danneel of Jensen playing with the kids, and people thought it was just a breathe right strip.

If you look closely, you can even see that his eyes looked to be blacked, as if he’d somehow broken his nose. Once he got to an event for Danneel’s Limbo Jewelry line launch in NYC, he kept changing the story as to how he got said injury. First he told fans that he’d hurt it by hitting a pool wall while playing with his kids. Then he said he’d dropped a keg on it. Well, if you’ve ever worked for a bar or been around kegs you know those things are heavy, and that story is untrue.

Had Danneel been walking around with an unknown injury and her story kept changing, it would have gotten attention. Men… not so much, and it shows.

3. Public Humiliation: There’s this Valentine’s Day post. Imagine reading that post, seeing your spouse mention their “first” love and then jokingly say you’re the second and “more important” love. Especially on the heels of Jensen’s fairly recent share at a convention of how “he’ll do” as her “second choice”. Your spouse should’ve been your first and only choice!

Posting him in his underwear just to garner some attention to her post. Honestly, it's pathetic, and adds to the narcissistic sociopath mentality assessment. What was the post about? To sell beer outside of Texas. But using Jensen to do it? Really, Danneel? God.

Then there's the photo of him in the bathroom. Some say he was a willing participant in the joke. I say "That doesn't matter." It's gross, crude, classless. It demonstrates how selfish she is.

I absolutely have a sense of humor. However, a joke only works if everyone is laughing.

Then there's this Jared photo. While not related to Jensen, it demonstrates just how much she doesn't care about people. She stated that she lied to Jared, that she deleted it, and then posted it anyway. How much you wanna bet that this was one of many reasons Jared and Genevieve pulled back from the Ackles? Because Danneel does not respect the Padaleckis, and Jensen cannot get Danneel to actually behave like a human being.

There's the whole AD House Tour. The whole video, she’s taking swipes at Jensen left and right. Claiming he didn't help in changing the kids’ diapers, to not cleaning the house at all, to not cooking at all.

Time stamp 0:58: The way Jensen hastily goes "not swing", to this day, honestly makes me wonder. Especially about that orgy rumor tweet....

Time stamp 1:14: Implying Jensen would be against flowers because it'd be "too girly", but then claiming he loved it. This makes me wonder. You'll see why later on in this post.

Time stamp 2:10: How is it Jensen didn't know that was the sex plant of a palm until then? Did he know nothing about that house??

Time stamp 3:11: Claiming it was Jensen’s first time in the kitchen, which literally doesn't make sense. Unless he'd been barred from the kitchen, surely he'd been in there to grab a beer, a snack, something for the kids. By saying this, she's implying that he uses her as a servant to get him everything. (I’m intrigued by Jensen's statement about the stove/oven, and how it was “so unnecessary”. He's been overruled.)

Time stamp 4:00: Jensen is very, very shocked that the chair moves. How is he that surprised by a moving chair? Does he not live there?! With kids, stuff would move!

Time stamp 5:39: Again, implying Jensen never helps out with the kids, the diapers. Uh, Danneel, neither do you. You have nannies.

Time stamp 6:04: She says it’s “ridiculous” he’s doing a marathon? It’s for charity, Danneel! So much for being a caring, compassionate person.

Time stamp 6:39: Jensen has to go to the guest room when he comes home late at night? Does Danneel not want to greet her husband lovingly, regardless of how late it is? She prioritizes sleep over him? Ooookay.

Time stamp: 6:58: Persistently tortures Jensen with the creepy doll. She knows it bothers him, yet keeps it around and keeps torturing him with it. Yeah, cool, that’s love, folks!

Time stamp 9:04: States rather publicly that he never cleaned the bathrooms. Danneel, honey, I’m fairly certain you don’t either—you have maids.

Time stamp 9:20: Embarrasses Jensen with the “where the magic happens” statement about the master suite. Jensen asked for it to not be included. Oh look. It's included. Overruled him again. He never has his way, does he, Danneel?

Time stamp 9:46: Of course Danneel doesn’t care that Jensen doesn’t like the big window and how people might be able to look in when they’re in the bathroom. She loves the attention and loves bragging about the man she trapped in marriage, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him. So considerate.

Time stamp 11:41: Puts Jensen down by saying she’s a little bit neater than him. Then puts him down again by saying he had help on cleaning up his side. Do you ever praise your husband, woman??

Yet, she praised him here, about how he’s been pitching in with mopping, preparing FBBC. Liar, liar, pants on fire at this point.

The FBBC interview. Let's not kid ourselves. That interview was bad. The interviewer didn't really do a good job, but it revealed a lot about the dynamic between Danneel and Jensen. At one point, Danneel claimed Jensen didn’t smell good, and he tried to excuse it because he was mopping (wait, I thought he didn't do any cleaning, Danneel??). Then she was like “Oh yeah he did so...” Then she made that horrible joke about being pregnant and Jensen actually gagged. Yes, he tried to play it off as a joke, but the look on his face was not that of a man who was happy to hear his wife was pregnant again. (Not to mention, you should never make such jokes because it’s such a heavily sensitive topic. Jokes only work if everyone laughs.) All of it was meant to humiliate and put Jensen down for the work he did in making FBBC a reality. There’s also the part where they were asked if they were tired of each other. Jensen was quick to say “Yes”.

Then there's Wales Comic Con. She made up the fib about auditioning for every single Supernatural female role, claimed she tried to use knowing/being with Jensen as a way in (that's called nepotism, dear), and all of that was... a lie. Then she tried to claim credit for helping Jensen drop the Dean voice while humiliating him about it. (He actually tried to defend himself by saying that was his voice.) The whole panel was humiliation after another. I detailed it in this post.

Not to mention her saying Jensen wasn't anything like David Spade and said “no, but you'll do”. Wow. Way to put your husband down and say he’s second best (again). Good lord.

Yet, she also said this:

Either he helps or he doesn’t, Danneel. Which is it?

4. Controlling. This part. I've gotten push back on this. “She doesn't work, she stays home all the time, how could she possibly control Jensen??”

By controlling his social media, and had been for years. No doubt this is largely to keep the facade of “happily married couple”, with her making posts on his Instagram in honor of her, praising her, and so forth. It’s also a way of monitoring his interactions with others, particularly women, and to keep track of who he’s been in touch with.

Indeed, I suspect up until Danneel’s birthday post this year, any comments, posts, that praised her were all Danneel, not Jensen.

Access to one’s cellphone, email address, and other social media is almost as good as attaching a GPS onto a person. If she accessed his cloud, she can access everything from text messages he’s sent to his most recent emails to his employers.

I have some proof but it will take time to document all of them.

There’s also this post, showing the difference between Danneel and Jensen.

There are also indications, histories, of Danneel signing fan autographs that said something along the lines of “hands off bitches, he’s mine”.

Jealous much, Ms. Graul?

It doesn't come across to me as "adorable" or "mischievous". It comes across to me as an insecure woman who knows her hold is tenuous at best.

But then she has a history of being controlling and jealous everywhere. Such as here and here.

She also insisted on him going out and looking for work all the time. Even after him wanting to reconnect with the family after the end of Supernatural. He suggested a three month trip around Europe, for the family.

Her response?

Then there were the recent cons where he mentioned it again, where Danneel is pushing him to go work, work, work. He’s never allowed to be home, to be a father, to be a husband. A loving marriage? I don't think so.

To be continued in Part Two.