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rise-my-angel · 11 hours ago

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SFW Alphabets

Jon Snow and Robb Stark

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 17.7k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, character deaths, mild mentions of blood and gore, jealousy and possessive behaviors, mentions of past sexual assault and trauma, talk of pregnancy, disturbing imagery, mention of infant death

Notes: Much like my nsfw alphabet, this is primarily based off of my series Heart of the Great Wolf. Once more Jons is split between pre and post resurrection as I consider the character development between those years apart to be drastic enough to warrant further elaboration. NSFW Alphabet Here, Series Masterlist Here

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Robb:

There is no wondering if the King in the North adores his wife. From when Robb was young and first met you, he was eager to be your friend. Having a friend that was a girl was different then what he was used too, surrounded by boys and his brother. You were softer and more quiet, timid almost. He learned quickly that he needed a softer touch when handling you and that included physical as well. His mother had joked that it well prepared him to have a little sister by the time Sansa was born. Growing up, he would be tied between treating you playfully and treating you with a gentle touch, both things which would occur at the same instances sometimes. He would knock you down in the training yard, but gently help you up with a guiding hand right after.

Now however, that you are his wife? That affection has skyrocketed. Robbs eyes are bright and full of joy when you walk in the room and he refuses to be the kind of man who hides that. Why should he pretend his world does not light up whenever you step back into his view? His father never hid away his love for his wife, so Robb did not grow up with the idea that thats how men should treat the women they love, in hiding and private. He has you sit or stand right beside him during his war councils, refuses to be satisfied falling asleep unless you are tucked away in his arms in front of him. Always a hand is on you. It rests on your thigh during discussions, on your back or hips when walking as he keeps you beside him on his path to not stray too far.

Too Robb never shies away from having his lips on you. Not over stepping what is appropriate in a public setting, but he loves pressing his lips to you in any way. In passing he would kiss the back or side of your head, press a gentle kiss to your sweet lips when he cannot overcome his adoration of you right in front of him, kiss your hand or cheek when he is feeling more playful in front of his men. He never hides away from pressing his lips to yours in some way. There is no mistakening that Robb Stark showers you in affection, and he will never care about hiding that fact in front of anyone.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Affection is something that comes naturally to Jon, but in different ways. He truly has two levels of affection. One his siblings receive, which arguably is the more bountiful one, and the second is reserved only for you. He loves his siblings, he adores them. No matter how strained or distant or difficult they can get when he is balancing five of them in his life, he will always show them affection. Robb was known for it too, but none moreso then Jon was used to showing his siblings he cares by placing a tender kiss to their forehead. None of them have gone unscathed with that. Sometimes in it’s place, he’ll ruffle their hair instead to see their reaction. Arya and Rickon respond the best with that, and it only made him do it more and more.

But with you, it’s different. His affection isn’t as open. Jon adores you, he would never come close to saying it outloud and would hesitate to even think it to himself in private, but he loves you. His eyes are drawn to you, and he always wants to give you what you deserve, especially as the years passed and you grew harsher and more closed off in so many ways. He can’t show you such affection in public, it would cross a line that Jon knew he’d struggle to reign in before getting there. He’s playful and soft with you of course, but nothing that would stand out against the ways Robb was affectionate. Instead, the rest of it was saved for in private. Soft touches, gentle kisses and holding you closely to keep you warm and reassured. It was never going to be as much as he wished he could show you, but it was the best he could do for being with a girl he was never supposed to have.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Affection comes different to Jon now. There is a passion in his heart for you, but it is expressed in a way that to outsiders, looks cold and distant. In a way, he almost fulfills more the image which Northerners are known to have, a reputation of people who are only stern and unfeeling. But, what they don’t see is how deep Jons emotions run. They are almost caged inside him to not explode every chance they get, only ever doing so when it is with you. Once, Jon used to be scared of showing you that side of himself. Thinking it would scare you away.

It was a bit of a slow burn, as you both rekindled that love for one another where you returned that hesitancy to be affectionate as much as Jon, that almost helped him. He could step back and realize that he couldn’t stand being distant with you, but breaking his heart that you had resigned yourself to never having love again. It fueled that drive and passion to show you his deep love for you now, and once a crack was made in that regard there was no going back. All of that affection is now saved for you almost exclusively. His siblings, his friends, Ghost, of course they all experience it in smaller degrees, but his true passion? Jon saves that for you and you alone.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Robb:

If he were to attach the most strict labels to things, no he in all technicality, was not your best friend. That was his brother. But, that did not mean you two weren’t incredibly close. He had been eager to show you around at first, young and fell of energy and excited at having someone new in his life in a more significant capacity. So, once you started coming out of your shell, it was easy for Robb to step in and fill that spot which once held nervousness and replace it with a sense of adventure. You two got into trouble all the time, and it was always Robb’s fault but you two never changed behaviours nor even attempt to stop. You could shove him and insult him and he could ruffle at your hair and mock you and it never was unwanted or unforgivable.

The older you both got, that still stayed, but it became more mature in nature. Then much of that rambunctious and mischievous behaviour now focused in the training yard where a lot of that energy could come out. He and Jon both had a hand in teaching you things, and both had their strategies. Jon was more unforgiving, whereas Robb would feel comfortable making you step back and listen to his advice instead of teaching it to you with force. In your off times, you would still spend much time together. Now more laughing and drinking and sometimes even hunting, Robbs skill was never failing to be able to make you smile. Something which felt rare at times.

Now that you’re married? It is a completely different scenario. Especially after hearing of Theons betrayal, you became all the other had. You could only rely on each other, you both only truly trusted each other and would ensure as much time was spent together then anything else. Glued to your side as you were to his, everyone could tell once Theon had invaded with the Ironborn and taken Winterfell, that you and Robb never left each others side. You weren’t just best friends, you were the others only true remaining friends. It strengthened that love and bond that marriage had brought you. Maybe as children Jon was certainly your best friend, but by the end, Robb knew that he was your best friend as you were his and neither of you had any complaint about it.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

The truth was, Jon was your best friend. He was the one who finally got your shy, timid exterior to crack. He got you to open up, he made it easier for you to talk and laugh and finally let loose in Winterfell and he always felt pride in it. He had watched over your sick self for three days and three nights obsessing over not wanting to lose you despite barley knowing you, and he never wasted a single second since then. He grew up watching over you, and always being the one you circled back around to. He taught you how to use a sword first, he was the one who would wake you up to sneak out of the castle walls trying to find time for just you both together and no one else. Being the one you were closest too by a long shot, and he never took that duty lightly.

As you both grew older and closer, by the time Jon kissed you that night in the rain, he knew being your best friend would make this a little bit easier. He knew you well, your wants and fears and when you were holding back for his sake. Jon would be a little more assertive and make advances on you, simply because as your best friend he knew you better then anyone. No random Lord you may one day marry would know how to handle you, so he always did his best. You never stopped being his best friend just because you were together now. It only made your feelings for each other even stronger.

Jon Post Resurrection:

He knew it was ironic. Once you were best friends, and yet now, Jon was aware that things had changed. If right off the bat someone asked him who his closest friend was, he knew Sam would come out easy of his mouth, or possibly Tormund. You were the most important thing in his life, and being best friends was still something you were to one another but it wasn’t quite the same. That time period of being away from one another had changed aspects of you that developed separately and reconciling that when so much is different now came easier then he thought.

Jon knew now that you needed someone to be there for you now in a way that he couldn’t. For you, he knew Theon was your best friend now. And he understood that without any malice. Despite Theons painful betrayal, the both of you experienced trauma together at the hands of the Boltons had bonded you together in a manner that no one, including Jon would have any way to truly comprehend. He helped you escape to run to Jon for safety, and he could accept that it put Theon in a spot that Jon used to be as your best friend. He accepted that. Jon was so much more to you now, and you to him then merely best friends who love each other.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Robb:

This man cannot even sleep properly if you are not in his arms. The first night you married, you fell asleep perfectly in his arms and he drifted to sleep just as easily. You were warm and soft and comforting to his soul as he was yours. You were leaving for Kings Landing the very next day, and he had to treasure that time, and treasure it he did. For months afterwards as you were away in Kings Landing, Robb found himself resenting his bedchambers. He barley wanted to sleep in there and would put it off as much as he could. He’d walk in, and see the spot which should’ve been yours and yearn for you to suprise him by riding through the gates any moment. So when you returned to him? Not even the desperation of the situation could’ve settled the relief he felt in getting you back into his arms.

Now out in war, there quite literally had never been a night of sleep where you weren’t there. Some times yes, he was guilty of feeling so overworked that he never joined you in bed, but he was still there, in sight and watching you. Most nights he did sleep, and he’d always end up in the exact same position. Turning you on your side, and pulling your back close to press against his chest, arms wrapped safe around you and waiting for you to fall asleep first, before nuzzling into your hair and joining soon afterwards. It was the only times of true peace and contentment Robb had found in years and would find for years. In those nights, you both falling asleep usually bare and cuddled in the others arms were Robbs favourites and he would not hesitate to admit it to you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

When he was younger, Jon could get away with it. You were both young and innocent and no one would bat an eye at two children close in that manner. Jon had a vivid memory of an early night in your first stay in Winterfell. You were in a more empty stretch or corridors, and a great storm felt as if it had blown over and being in such a new place made you feel frightened. You had come to Jons room, quietly asking if you could sleep in there that night. Jon never hesitated to let you. You curled up right away as Jon tentatively inched closer before feeling confident to let a hand sit on your side so you felt him there as you drifted off.

But things got more complicated after you begun spending intimate time together. Jon would take whatever chances he could. Sneaking around with you meant that he was always on alert as to whom might walk in on you both at any moment, and he never could keep you in a position too long that you wouldn’t be able to jump away from to appear innocent. Only when alone in the wolfswood did he have that freedom, but that wasn’t a place to cuddle. He would sometimes lay down with you, careful in a position that while would get him into trouble if caught, could not be explained with a lie. He hated it, he wanted to have you close the way a man should with his girl, but Jon never had that chance. He never got to be soft with you the way he knew you deserved.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Again that cold Northern demeanour kicks in. His siblings, friends, and even the Lords and Ladies he is closer too all know differently but to many, Jon knew that he likely looked very distant from you. Hardly touching you in a public setting, and certainly never being so brazen as to kiss you in public. His reasoning being twofold, he was never a large fan of such public displays from couples but too it was to ensure his men respected you. Saw you as a capable Queen as much as they saw a capable King in him, and not babying you with physical touch in public was his way to subtly enforce that image.

In private though? He had nothing holding him back, nor at this point would he want too. Many times he could find himself coming up behind you, wrapping his hands around your front to pull you back into him or keeping his hands steady on your hips to keep you in place. Not shying away from pressing his lips to yours, and almost unsettled in bed if he did not have your frame curled into his front where he could hide you away and protect you from the world. The few nights he had to sleep without you cuddled into him were incredibly lonely, and typically, resulted in barley any sleep. He adored being so physical with you, but as much as something within him wanted to stake his claim on you for everyone to see in multiple ways, this soft tenderness when you both cuddled together was something that he was selfish enough to keep for himself.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Robb:

It is a little different for Robb. He has many skills of course, but he was the firstborn son. The heir to Winterfell. The eventual King in the North. There are certain domestic traits which he as a highborn and a King do not engage in. He knows how to cook, and he is not a child who has no understanding of keeping things clean or organized, but it is less of a priority. He will always have people to take care of those things for him. He does what he can, you both prefer to help each other dress and undress in the mornings and nights as opposed to having any maids or squires do so. You trim his curls when they get too long and sit perched ever so carefully on his lap to help trim his facial hair. He takes care of you in the bath, treating you like a fragile little doll to clean. But, he simply does not need to worry about such things as much as say, a smallfolk couple.

Settling down too is unique for Robb. He was raised with the unwavering expectation that he is to marry and have children. All highborns are raised to know this, and few would ever look down on it. Robb wanted it. He saw his father and mother and their happy family and always wanted one of his own. He was simply thrilled with the fact that he gets to have that with you. He doesn’t need to think much about settling down when it comes to you, its a duty, an expectation, and you both were prepared to do what needed to be done, and better yet, both of you enjoy it.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

A unique position Jon was in. He was born to a high Lord, and lived in his home with his trueborn siblings. He was raised with amenities that most could never dream of, and servants were always around. He didn’t have to do the hard work to lean certain skills, but, Jon knew he did anyways. As a bastard, Jon knew it was a possibility that he’d be completely on his own one day and would need to only rely on his own skills to survive. He could do everything that people, including himself, had servants for, he just had yet to need the skills to survive.

Settling down though? It was out of the question. The only one he’d ever settle down with is you, and that was not an option. A royal Baratheon girl was far too good for the likes of a bastard. Jon spent years in secret romancing you, always knowing in the back of his head that one day he would have to give you up, and he knew he would never settle for anyone once you were gone.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon now was not unlike Robb in some respects. Of course there were tasks delegated to maids and servants, things that he had partially grown up accustomed too, but also now as King in the North his time was needed to be dedicated to much more pressing matters. If left a certain amount of things that he couldn’t do for you, simply because of time. But, there were still many things you and Jon saved only for each other.

The ends of the night, Jon would undress you, and you him. It was a quiet time, tender where he could watch your focused work and admire you, and then in turn get to run his hands all over you and unburden you from the days woes, even if only for now in the heavy clothes on your person. He also at that point had the maids all know, that once the tub is filled, leave the rest. Jon would always take care of you there, enjoying the hot water and having you bare and pressed against him without the requirement to make it sexual simply because you were both naked. His domestic tendencies came in the little things, small matters which to many highborns were so insignificant that it would even occur to them to not make their servants attend to it, but Jon always did. He made sure he did those small things for you, and you did them for him right back.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Robb:

There is no breaking up. It was extremely rare that annulment was granted to a highborn couple, even Kings and Queens were denied annulments. Especially under the Seven, it was seen as close to a sin as it could get to break a union apart, and were children involved? Then never would it be granted. Tearing a family apart was not what he was raised to think was acceptable. Even when he was at an age he did not know what kind of woman he’d be to marry, it did not matter if it did not serve happiness to either of them. If he wanted a marriage that could break apart, he would go find a place in Essos that did not care about that sort of thing.

Besides, Robb knows he loves you more then anything, and you him. He has no intent on ever even considering what would happen if you both were to not be together anymore. From this day until our last days, that was how it was for both of you. And to Robb, your last days together would only be one which ended in death. Only death would tear your marriage apart at this point, and Robb would not have it any other way.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He had no choice. He wasn’t breaking up with you, nor were you breaking up with him, but this was all happening regardless. It was the Kings orders, or as you specified, your fathers orders disguised as the Kings orders. He knew he was going to have to give you up, but to his own brother? Robb? Who already got everything Jon ever wanted and now including his girl? It made him angry as much as it broke his heart, but he couldn’t show that. Showing how hurt he was, would only serve to hurt you more. He needed to be calm for you, to ensure you went into this inevitable marriage as strong and clearheaded as possible.

Jon felt a deep pain for a long time. You out of his life was one thing, you out of his life and making a new one with Robb was another. He never forgot about you at the Wall, or beyond it, or until the night he was stabbed by his own men. Nothing that happened made Jon forget you. He gave you up because he had too, but he took your gentle heart with him and kept it safe from that parting day until his last day. If Jon had a different chance in life, he knew without a doubt he would’ve never given you up.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There was no contest anymore. Jon had to give you up to his brother once, and it led to both of your horrific deaths. When he finally got you back, it was because you returned and brought him back. It was all a mess, but Jon knew he would never let you go again. And he would prove it time and time again, doing anything and killing anyone to keep you safe and alive and with him. It wasn’t forcing you with him against your will, it was very clear that you never wanted anyone but Jon the way he wanted no one but you, but Jon took that protectiveness within him and directed towards you with a burning fire blazing behind it. You two wouldn’t end until death pulled you apart, and even then, Jon might not be willing to let that stop him again either.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Robb:

Growing up watching the marriage between his mother and father gave Robb a more eager view of marriage then some other highborns. Many political marriages were cordial and civil, but few as he seemed to grow up realizing were as loving as the one in his own home. His mother and father truly spoiled Robb in the sense of what he grew up looking forward too. He wanted a bride he would love and treasure the way his father did his mother, to have children and a stable life with little issue. He was never scared of marriage, never saw it as a burden. It was a duty he looked forward too and even though all of that depended on his future bride, he still was optimistic.

When it was announced to him that he would be marrying you in only a little less then a month by the time the raven from Kings Landing arrived, yes it was a shock. He never thought it would be you he married, but he got used to the idea quick once the shock wore off. You were beautiful, sweet, intelligent, and he already had an idea of what living with you would be life, you’d served as his fathers ward on and off for half your life. He knew you’d be nervous, and apprehensive about putting Robb through this, but it just made him more eager to prove how much he wanted to do this. He wasn’t afraid of a life of marriage, and certainly not afraid of it being with you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Even if Jon took you out of his life’s equation, he’d never get married. Jon never wanted to marry or have children. Its what he had told himself for years. Being a bastard is lonely, no matter how much his father and siblings tried to make him always involved, there was that looming narrative over his head of who he was and always will be and how that made everyone else treat him. He never wanted that life for a child, and he never would have a child that didn’t have that name. No highborn lord would marry his daughter to a bastard, and he also simply wouldn’t wish to condemn any woman to taking a bastard name and giving their children bastard names. Or having another bastard on his own. It wasn’t an option. Jon would never do it.

In a world of fantasy, he would be able to marry you. That night under the Weirwood, you both talked of a life where you both lived in the Reach, meeting in a tavern near Highgarden and having nothing standing in your way of marrying. It was the only comforting thought Jon had at the Wall, the only thing he could turn to imagining that life. Multiple times he near found himself jealous of Sam for being from the Reach, as if that fact alone put Jon so much closer to that fantasy with you. It never would come, but he could think about it. He never wanted to marry anyone that wasn’t you as a boy, he never would marry anyone not wanting to condemn his child’s life to misery, and now at the Wall, he never would marry anyways. All he had was a memory of Highgarden and the Reach that would never truly exist.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Marriage was still a tricky subject for Jon, but not in the way he once thought. Now the dynamic was not giving you up, it was putting you back together after you had been ripped apart. The one thing through his jealousy over the years that Jon truly never wanted to do, was make you feel as if he was attempting to replace Robb. Nor did he ever want Robb to be watching him and think that either. He didn’t push for it. He thought of it all the time. He wanted to drag you out to the Weirwood the moment he had reclaimed Winterfell, but restrained himself for your sake, to not bombard you with his want of commitment when he knew how fresh the wounds were from losing Robb.

Then he said it. The first time making love to you on Dragonstone since that night in the cells of Castle Black, Jon said it in the heat of the moment. That he wanted to marry you, that such a thing was all he’s ever wanted. He couldn’t take it back. It was out in the open and you both finally talked about it. Coming together slowly to understand that little by little were you healing, and perhaps marrying Jon would help heal a part of you that felt so desperately alone. It was once of his favourite memories now, that beautiful evening marrying you under the Weirwood in his home the way he dreamed of since he was a boy. Jon was not afraid of commitment now, he was only ever afraid of pushing you too fast. But now that you are his wife? Now that he has you? Well, it is almost cute that you would ever find reason to doubt Jons love and affection for you. And he would spend his entire new life with you proving that no matter how often your frustrating little brain tried to lie to you otherwise.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Robb:

He is a man of duality. He can be both seamlessly and switch whenever he is needed to. One on hand, he was a Stark. Starks are as harsh as the winters they endure and he led an army of Northmen as their King. There was a degree of demand and respect he would get from his men and if not, establish his authority and make them respect that. He was not afraid to raise his voice, to be violent, to make the hard choices others would attempt to persuade him away from. But with you? It was different.

Rare was it Robb took anything out on you. Only once truly. Learning of Theons betrayal, his instinct was to ride North at once. Impulsive and rash but there was an anger burning inside of him for all he had just learned, and you were quick on your feet. Scurrying in front of him and pushing him back gently with your hands to implore him that you were all still at war. He had raised his voice at you, not to be mean, but a frustration and a helplessness manifested in an aggressive manner. You never held it against him through. You continued to show him support and counsel that he would understand until he felt his heart slow down from a racing speed.

Other then that, Robb was always gentle with you. Careful with your emotions, sensitive they were despite how hard you tried to show otherwise. Always sweet with you in the view of his men. He loved treating you like his Queen, treasure and spoil you like a Queen. He couldn’t do that here, not in an army camp in the middle of war, but he did so instead with how he treated you. His love for you was gentle, and while out at war, if that was the only thing he could treasure you with, he would do so with all the love he could summon.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Jon was almost scared of being rough with you in any way. Ironically you always joked that it must be the opposite considering how he was the one unafraid of roughing you up in the training yard, but that had purpose. That taught you to be stronger and quicker. But the moment you stepped out of that yard, it was different. Sure, he would playfully manhandle you but that was no different to the ways Robb or Theon would do the same. You were simply smaller then them and were easy to toss around. Arya got the same treatment, so she understood your plight.

But when with you alone, Jon was nothing but gentle. The moment you came into his life, he just fell in love. He was soft and kind to you, a watchful protector at first making sure nothing ill or hurting would befall you again. Easing you into the way things were here and comforting you when lonely. That all made you trust him more and more but it almost made him softer for you. Rasping low words he would speak to you, his touch even when innocent was always gentle. He never wanted you to feel as if he would ever go too far in any way, no matter how much you never thought it would happen. There were areas of Jons life where he was rough and unkind, but being with you was never one of them.

Jon Post Resurrection:

It is a contrasting feeling with Jon, the way he is now. He is gentle and rough both, and sometimes you never know which to expect. He was a man whom still held a temper with the sharpness of a wolves claws and you never truly know when he would let it all out. On his men, on those who disobey him, and even sometimes when he is frustrated with you, that roughness will slip. His voice raises every so slightly with a strain that tells you he is still holding back, his hand usually running down his mouth or along his face in an exasperation. Rarely does he too show gentle physical affection. He keeps his hands, comments, and for your own awareness, his eyes to himself. There is seldom an indication in the face of the public which tells them that you are at the side of a warm, and gentle husband.

Alone though? Jon can indeed be very different. He routinely can switch between that rough and gentleness. While the rough usually seems to come out as a result of what you both are doing in his bedchambers during the hour of the wolf, bat, or whatever other hour Jons needs grow strong, the rest of the time? He is gentle. His voice soft and tender, his touch slow and purposeful and almost always meaning to soothe more then anything else. The way he runs his hands through your hair as he does it all up, or untangles it from the day. Taking your clothes off gentle or running a cloth over you when he has you both in the bath. His tone always quiet and murmuring as that deep rasp is but an entrancing husk in your ear and you feel as large and intimidating as Jon can be, it is in those moments which he is truly gentle. Alone with you and no one else to be on guard around. You, Jon can be gentle around because you are the only one who does and will ever trust being vulnerable around.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Robb:

He won’t per say, pull you into a hug the way two greeting friends may. In sensitive times or comforting you after the heat of passion in his bed he would, but otherwise, Robb showed that affection in different ways. It was always tied into his affectionate manner, his hands always on you, seeking any excuse to press his lips to any part of you. Robb didn’t hug you often out in war, but he did the best he could pushing his touch right up to that line.

When he did hug? He was loving. Pulling you close, an arm wrapped around your waist and the other smoothing down your hair, or as best he could when it was done up simply in the encampment. Help you bury your face in his neck as he kept you there until whatever calm you sought him out for was found and eased your worries. He’s used to being the eldest brother, he knows how to comfort in a hug when his younger siblings came running. And even though it was a little more intimate with you, that instinct to make you feel safe and protected was still there, if not more inflamed then usual.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Stemming right from his affectionate behaviour, Jon is happy to give hugs to anyone he cares for. So many outsiders have this idea that the Northerners are such cold and uncaring people, when in reality, they simply save that for whom is most important. His siblings, especially the younger ones, got hugs all of the time while they were growing up. He and Arya even had their own special tradition, skinny and short as she was, she would jump up into his arms as he’d catch her and hold her close. One day he joked when she got older she’d be too big to do it anymore, but she insisted that the day she grew to be tall like Sansa would never happen.

With you though? That was the same, yet not. As children it could be, Jon could hug you and not think twice. It was not until he had become older, nearing his fourteenth name day that he realized that his physical closeness could be seen as with other intentions. So he changed things, usually keeping that for only when it was the two of you. Still you never questioned it, and it wasn’t until you both kissed did you realize why he had eased off of it and followed suit. He’d love to hug you more, but Jon just knows he can’t. He can’t hug you in public for risk of someone putting it together when he’d struggle to let go or keep it polite, and he couldn’t afford this being discovered. Not yet.

Jon Post Resurrection:

It once more was split between two sides of him. For his siblings? That affection had never gone away and it was going nowhere. The moment he and Arya were alone, she ran towards him, jumping into his arms as he caught her like it was any other time, or truly, like it had been the last time. She was a little bigger, and he a little more tired, but it was all the same. The same with seeing Bran again, the two brothers didn’t hesitate to bring the other into their arms tight, followed by a kiss to the forehead as Jon always had done with his younger siblings. One sibling did not have the same reaction, but she was another story, another problem which Jon did not wish to contemplate at that very moment. So he ignored their lack of affection.

It was not unlike before, but for very similar reasons oh his past life. Now, he could be seen with you, be open with you. But he chose not to, not in front of others typically. Jon reserved that softness for few people’s eyes. Perhaps it came from the fact that he knew even though the North called him King, he was still just a bastard. He felt he had to always prove he was worth this title that they and Robb bestowed upon him, trusted him with. He couldn’t look soft or distracted when it mattered, so he could continue to lead them all undoubted as much as he could manage.

In private though? Jon was always the one pulling you into his arms, keeping you close, and running his hands innocently over you. Having you in his arms felt safe, and as if he too were keeping you safe. It was comfortable, it eased the tension, the panic, the paranoia and vigilance which came forth with the traumas both of you had endured. He would ensure you slept with you in his arms, your front usually hidden in his chest as he keeps you hidden from the rest of the world, and many times, Ghost coming to sleep at your back to keep you just as protected.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Robb:

To an outsider? Yes it could be seen as fast. Married and together for only one night, then spent many months thousands of miles apart. By the time he said it, you had only once more been together for a few short weeks. Were that the only amount of time he knew you, that would be fast and it would be odd. He’d barley know you let alone enough to use such a passionate word.

But, that was not the case. He had known you since he was a boy of ten, and now at twenty and five, you were as part of his life as his siblings were, only more. It was after learning that his father had been murdered. He had taken you and twenty thousand some Northerners to march south and free him, and instead, Joffery had beheaded him for a treason he did not commit. It was beyond devastating. Robb was the eldest, the one leading this army. He should’ve been more composed, but he wasn’t. He disappeared from anyone sight. That pain needing to go somewhere he had slashed and hacked away at the bark of a strong tree as he let himself go more with each hit. You had come across him. Red in your eyes with tears he was sure you didn’t even know were pouring down your cheeks.

You had called to him, but there was little you both could say. You both knew. Instead, Robb dropped his sword as you both fell into each others arms. You both had promised to kill them all, and you both had told one another how much you loved them. He said it, you said it, and he never went back. It was natural to say it, because Robb did not care about the speed of which things were progressing emotionally. He needed you as you needed him now more then ever, and you both did not hide away that love was the most important aspect of all of it.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He feels it. Don’t ever get Jon wrong. Deep down in his heart, he loves you. He’s in love with you. Every definition of the word love for him belongs to you. It always has. Since the moment he saw you across the yard on your first day that spark was there, and it was only cemented that first night he watched over your ill, unconscious, dying self that he understood this would not go away. He knew then you were his and he was yours, even if he didn’t know then what the word was.

But, he’d never say it. He never did say it. Telling you that would make it real to the point there would be no denying that your future together was always in question. What love could you both truly share in earnest when it would be taken away by your duty one day? Jon felt it and he always did, but he never said it. He was sure you felt it as well, but again, he never said it. It was putting you at a risk he wasn’t willing to have. Saying it was love to each other would make separating so much more painful, so as much as he desired to tell you the extent to which he’d always been deeply in love with you, Jon never did.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon had almost said it many times, had said it passively a few times after that, and then one much more obvious time to ensure it got through your thick skull. You were scared, and distant, and traumatized at first. He refused to push you more then he worried he already had, and ensured that he wasn’t continuing to push you too much. Robb was a major factor. Jon loved you, he always had and now something dark, and clawing, and burning was deep within his chest that radiated something even more possessive then love, but he knew the part of him which as ostensibly still a man, knew better. Robb was your husband, the man you died with, the father of the child murdered within your womb beside him. He refused to have you wrongly think he wanted to replace Robb. He didn’t. Part of Jon wished and always had wished he could walk in Robbs shoes and even more when he married you, but not enough to push you before you were ready to handle it.

Now though? He wonders if he doesn’t say it enough. Jon is not an overly talkative man, neither you a talkative woman but you had the intelligence and eloquence of a life of royalty to know how to articulate yourself better then he could. Jon usually preferred to act a physical being, show you rather then tell you and he wonders now sometimes if he was neglecting to make sure you knew with no doubt that he loved you. You both felt it, but he knew sometimes he was so quiet and closed off, you may just so happen to doubt how much and that was a worry Jon did not wish to ever give you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Robb:

If there was only one truth in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms, it was that Robb Stark was indeed a jealous man. It didn’t always come off so easily. He wasn’t aggressive or rude, nor did he border into possessiveness about it. Robb knew he had you, you were his wife, about to soon be the mother of his child, and the Queen at his side. No one else stood a chance, let alone against the sheer love you felt for another. But, you were more then those things. You were still highborn, before this you were still essentially a royal princess just without the title, you were beautiful and intelligent and well spoken and your hand always sought after but never able to get close. Robb knew you were popular in the realm even if you didn’t see it that way.

Which meant in a camp full of soldiers, you were something for them to think about. He had eyes, so he could see how men looked at you. And through more..unnatural manners...did he also hear what they said about you in their private laughs. You were an object of desire for them, but it only bothered Robb when it was so brazen. When someone put you in that position directly, let alone in front of Robb. He never had to be aggressive about it. Robb knew exactly how to stand his ground and assert his authority without raising his voice or using force. He would make them back down without much effort.

He wanted to show you off, but he also wanted to keep parts of you all to himself and the best way to ensure no one overstepped, Robb would simply have to keep you with him at all times to ensure no one made you uncomfortable with comments or advances. Not that he was opposed to the idea, and he was fairly sure you weren’t either despite your protests.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Jon was jealous twofold. But that came as a slow burn of jealousy. At first, he was jealous of Robb. He was their fathers firstborn son, he was the heir to Winterfell, he was the trueborn and he got everything Jon wanted. On a good day, Jon could admit that Robb was better at him then near everything. On his bad days, he would wish to argue how much better at Robb he was then things, but, those came less and less the more he moved away from his teenage years. He was jealous of Robb his whole life, and there was no getting around that. But that jealousy didn’t come with hatred. Just envy.

Only, it was a bit different now. Still, there was no resentment or hatred, but that envy and anger was strong. Because now Jon had a reason to be jealous. Robb was marrying you. It was neither of your choices, but that did not take away from the fact that it was going to happen. You’d marry him, have his children and a happy life that Jon could never give you. It stung, it stung a lot watching the brother he always saw get everything Jon wanted, now too, having his girl. And in truth, even at the Wall, Jon never stopped being jealous. It always just sat there, brewing behind the scene ready to flare up at any moment.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jealous was the wrong word. Jealous implied that there was anything another man could want with you, from you, or offer you that he couldn’t give or have with you himself. Sometimes, what he got was insecure. What Jon felt was the weight of a bastard who married a girl raised as a princess, and what he couldn’t offer you. You deserved the kind of luxury you were raised with in the Crownlands, but he was a bastard, he hadn’t been able to give you that before and he barley could now. It made him insecure around very few, only those which could offer you such a life now. Jon had never said it outloud, nor would he, but there was a very short list of men who Jon feared may offer you the life of a Queen you deserve and he would only have the love in his heart to offer you to stay.

The only other thing he got was possessive. But that had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the fact that Jon knew what men were, and did not appreciate the thoughts of men being directed towards you. You were Jons, there was no going back on that now and he would glare so harsh across the way at men looking at you, that they’d stop simply because the men could feel the target of danger being painted on their backs. Jon would keep his distance, but take you harder and longer those nights. Leave a claim on you so deep that any man who came anywhere near you could sense his person on you thick like incense being blown in their faces, and they would know a possessive wolf had you for himself already.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Robb:

Robb will kiss you anywhere, any time. Literally. He needs no reason to kiss you. The second he shared your first kiss together in his bedchambers only hours before the wedding ceremony, he knew he’d find himself always wanting more. Especially now out here, at war. He would make sure he valued every single second he had with you in case of the worst. He’d barley ever let you walk away from him to attend to your duties without pulling you in for a kiss. He’d pass you by in any way and press his lips to your hair, or in front of his men to be formal yet cheeky, press a kiss to the back of your hand or a gentle peck on the cheek. All knew he wanted to kiss you more, but they were amused at their Kings attempt at self restraint.

Robb loves kissing down your neck. Not even to mark it up roughly, but how sensitive you were there the tender skin, how when you’d try to speak when he did so you’d stutter, and that high pitched gasp so sweet. Making your breath hitch each press of his lips? He loved it, it made you so pliable as you’d melt in his arms and he adored it. As for where you’d kiss him, Robb loved you’d press your lips down his chest. Usually making your way to another destination, but he loved the look of you small against his broad frame and your pretty lips pecking at what you could find as if unhappy to leave any skin untouched.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

It sounded so innocent to say, but Jon loved when you kissed his cheek. For years as a shy little girl, it was the way you showed you were grateful. A simple kiss to his cheek usually paired with that bright, sweet smile you saved only for him. He wasn’t brazen enough to do it back, too afraid it would show off his feelings, but sometimes when he was feeling cheeky, he’d dramatically kiss the back of your hand with a bow before leaving the room, always making you and sometimes his father laugh at his antics.

When he kissed you for the first real time though? Thats what he adored. Your lips were soft and perfect and followed along with his so well, it was as if you both were made to kiss the other. He couldn’t get enough of it, really. Not wanting to sound full of himself, but he kissed you so much and enjoyed it so much he considered it likely one of his secret great skills. He took pride in that, and any chance he had you properly alone for a decent period of time, he would spend hours kissing you if he could.

Jon Post Resurrection:

That had not changed in him. That Jons favourite thing to do was to kiss you. Only now, he did not need to hide it. And he was not so private that he would never kiss you where anyone could see your embrace. His usual now was a kiss to your sweet lips, before he’d cup your cheeks to tilt your head down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and many times the hair at the top of your head. Sometimes moving you back up at the right angle to kiss you once again.

He could never explain it, but there was something about kissing you that he adored. He was good at it, he could do it now whenever he liked, and he could control how long he kissed you and many times, often did. Stealing your breathe in a perfect way, your air taken away and being reliant on Jon to let you go to even be free? It was everything he wanted, and he exploited that. If Jon had one way to show his love, it was kissing you, and it was the one skill he could say he had over many men and he would hold to that one boost of real confidence.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Robb:

He grew up the eldest sibling. He had 5 brothers and sisters, he was very used to it. He was eleven, near twelve by the time Sansa was born. So he got very used to what little children were like, especially when Arya and Bran followed not terribly long afterwards. Rickon was still but a baby when he left Winterfell for war. He was confused by everyone leaving, and the chaos surrounding Brans fall and his mothers absence. He’d follow Robb around all day everyday, clutching at his leg and crying. Robb did what he could, and while what he could was alright, he suspected Rickon appreciated Robb trying more then if he succeeded.

It made wanting children with you easy. Seven hells he’d been trying, but war was taking an incredibly stressful toll on your body and he suspected it was making it harder for you to conceive a child. He didn’t blame you, it would happen when the gods knew your body was ready for it to happen and he wouldn’t try to force it any sooner. But he wanted children, at least six, as many as his father had. And the moment you had come to him telling him you were with child? Well, Robb knew it was only a matter of time before that picture became a reality, and he couldn’t wait.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Was Jon good around kids? Yes. Did he like kids? Yes. Did he want kids? No, never. He half raised four of his siblings, he was always good with kids and he enjoyed them. He adored that Rickon was born so late, so that while his other siblings were getting old enough to not wanting to be so attached to their siblings sides, Rickon was young enough that he still did so. Rickon was found at Jons side if not Robbs a lot, and they both were happy for it.

But Jon wanting kids? That was a life for a Jon that did not hold the surname Snow. He refused to father a bastard, and he refused to give himself any chance that would result in it. He didn’t go through with losing your virginity’s together that afternoon because of that dark voice in his head pecking at him like a raven asking what if he got you pregnant. He couldn’t do that to a child, being a bastard was not a good life for a child and he wouldn’t be the one to do continue the cycle.

Jon Post Resurrection:

If he were attempting to keep his words in polite company, Jon would simply say that he was more then eager to become a father. He half raised all of his younger siblings, he was always good with kids and he still was. He spent time with less younger ones these days, but he spent much time with Gilly’s son, Sam. Acting almost something like an uncle to the small boy, Jon felt internally that it was quite good practice for when you and him had a child and they came of that age. Not that Jon wanted to necessarily push you for that so soon, losing your first in your womb left scars both literally and figuratively that he was sensitive not to overstep.

It didn’t stop Jon from wanting them though. He wanted to see you swell with his child, with many of his children as he also wanted to see you with many little ones running about around you. He wanted to have children with you for himself as much as he wanted to make you a mother. Show you that this thing you always wanted, and one horror after another tricked you into thinking you either did not deserve it or could not have? He wanted to prove that this was still something you both could have, but now together. And marrying you? Well, the child according to you should still be named Snow, but they wouldn’t be bastards, and they wouldn’t be raised and known as such, and that was just enough for Jon to want to start giving you children now, and it was only a matter of time.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Robb:

Mornings are routine and not of much variety out at war. You’d both wake up, dress quickly in case something pressing should come up requiring his or both your attentions. You both would eat, and then truly, that tent is empty until nightfall. Mornings are not interesting in the sense of, your days are filled with duties and war councils. There isn’t time to spend on routines. Not out here.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

They were mostly uneventful from his early days to now. He slept alone, he got mostly ready alone and the maids would come in only once he was mostly ready for the day, wanting to have some peace to himself when he first woke up. He still does that now, only at Castle Black which means Jon had even less of a reason to dilly dally in bed. He had duties to attend to, and his father didn’t raise him to laze around.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Mornings aren’t as plentiful as he’d like now that he is King. He awakes before you most days, dresses, gets some smaller work done and by the time you arise? Jon will help you dress gently, stand you in front of the small vanity to sit as he does your hair for you in the styles you both preferred on you and he was an expert in. Stopping by the dining hall to eat briefly before his day started, and Jon was King, so he had duties to attend to. And that routine scarcely ever changed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Robb:

They would go one of two ways. Some nights, Robb felt the burden of this war bearing down on his shoulders. He’d be hunched over his desk in his tent writing and reading and planning and plotting. You’d be laying in bed trying to entice him to come sleep, but those nights it was impossible. He had too much to do and too much on his mind. Night would come and go and by the time he would consider sleeping it was so early to morning that it would be a waste. Those nights were not fun, they were the roughest on him and Robb tried to lessen how often he’d stay up so preoccupied with this war. He also simply put, didn’t like how much it kept him from enjoying you.

The rest of the nights? There also was a routine, but slower. It would start with undressing the other down to each of your softer night clothes. Having a meal together, and on a good night? A bath would be drawn which you both would take turns washing the other. Some nights you’d both stay there for a while, enjoying the others company. Other times you’d both get out and Robb would enjoy you in other ways. If you did not fall right asleep, thats when you both would find ways to preoccupy the other until you both got tired enough to sleep. Those nights were far more often then the previous kinds, and Robb was trying to work on them happening more often then not.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Nights were the same as his mornings. Routine, routine, routine. Only as a boy, Jon would drift asleep trying to come to terms with how in love with his best friend he was. That transitioned to being with you and resenting he couldn’t fall asleep beside you, to being at the Wall, and clinging to any memory of your sounds, looks, or touch to create a phantom of you in his mind to fall asleep to.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Nights were sort of the same as his mornings, but slower. Jon could take every task left and slow it right down, take his time to enjoy the quiet, the peace, and you. Undress you as he did the morning, you both taking your time with one another in a bath. He would sit at his desk and get work done while now you were there either helping for doing your own tasks which calmed him, giving him peace of mind that he always knew where you were. And many if not all nights would end with him in some way, taking you to bed. But that was another discussion entirely.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Robb:

Robb is lucky for how long he’s known you. At this point, there was very little for him to find out about you or you about him. Fifteen years of friendship before marrying you left little up to the imagination. That being said, marriage did mean there were some new things to learn about each other. More gentle and intimate details and Robb was perfectly content letting that all sit out in the open. What he liked, what he was like, what he wanted, none of which he’d leave your many times confused little head to figure out on your own.

Robb knew you had things he still didn’t know about, but you were always more reserved. More quiet about yourself, much like the way Jon could be which clearly was why you both were such good friends. But because Jon was like that, it meant Robb could handle that with you. You didn’t keep things to yourself to be malicious, sometimes he knew you would simply not know how to bring it up. Robb would put it together some times, and others not so much. But he was fine that you were slower to open up completely, because you accepted how open he was. Together it was as if you both completed the other.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Taking his time with you was important. He could always tell you were shy and timid, and needed to get used to even having friends the way Jon was offering. If he bombarded you with details about himself, there was no telling if that may simply scare you off. You were slow to open up, and Jon felt it fair to match that energy. Of course, he was keeping one big, fat secret that he was in love with you. Never telling you that he was so in love that as a boy, he would daydream about the ways he could convince his father to find a way to let him marry you. He never revealed those and never would, even now. Those were simply a little too embarrassing to admit.

It got easier when you both were older, and used to being together. Those quiet nights up far too late for your own good, talking and joking about anything you both could think of. You and Jon learned little details then which he treasured forever, and he knew you took to heart. Those moments, Jon opened up more then he had with anyone else. In truth, if he casted aside any of the physicality of him romancing you, it was those small little moments before his fire in his bedchambers that he treasured the most. Two quiet, reserved people opening up because it was just so natural with the other.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There was very little Jon had to hide from you now. There was a bond there, something deeper then love or friendship that tied him to you and you to him. Jon didn’t even need to be able to read you so well to understand what was going on inside your mind, and even more literally, your dreams. There was something tethering you both to one another and it made keeping secrets something near impossible now.

Even if he had secrets to keep that mattered, Jon did not feel compelled to keep them to himself. He wanted to tell you, he knew how you would react and why your reaction mattered. That was really all there was. That was it. Jon was open with you as could be, and implored you to feel safe and understanding that you could do the same, because that connection, that bond, that love between you both was now so strong that not being open was barley an option anymore.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Robb:

It was not that he was an impatient man, it was that the manner which Robb displayed his discontent with things might come off as impatient to the untrained eye. His men saw most of this side. His tone and demeanour darkening, and even though he would normally use slow and clear words it was laced with a bitter poison that would burn your skin were they to be directed to you. It was how he learned to establish his authority amongst so many lords which were older and more experienced then him. They perceived it as a lack of patience rather then them being put in their place. He never had to be angry when doing it, when Robb yelled in anger, that was when the men knew they had screwed up monumentally.

But with you? Robb couldn’t be more patient if he tried. He didn’t care about rushing you. Sometimes of course he’d persuade you into things, his patience almost being used as a seduction tool against you, but that was only in the bedroom. In your lives together, Robb would always allow you to take your time. He never had any reason to rush you. After all, you’d never get short with him, so why would be get angry with you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

That door could swing open in either direction. Usually, Jon was very patient. He wasn’t losing his temper and would keep his cool. Or at least, thats what he was like now. It took a lot of time to develop that skill. Jon knew he had a short temper, and it took years to reign that in. He never let it out on someone who didn’t deserve it, sometimes he was just angry and impatient when talking to someone but it was not personal to them. But with someone he cares about? Jon would get angry and impatient, but usually on their behalf. Once you were someone Jon cared about, it was a lot harder then anyone thought to make him mad at you.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon was a strange combination. He could both be a very patient man, but also a very quick tempered one. He could jump to anger and yet use all of the time in the world to stew on that anger. Death and returning to life had not changed that about himself. He seldom found patience for pomp or elongated formal routines. He wanted to get to the point to get to what mattered.

It was you he was patient with, caring for your much more soft and sensitive mind then the one he left you with. Only once had he taken his anger out on you, and Jon had and would continue to go to the ends of the world and back to prove he’d never do it again. It was an awful truth he learned, and took it out on the only person near, the one who told him that truth, you. He would never do it again, and you fully trusted in that.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Robb:

Raised as the heir to Winterfell, it is safe to say that if Robb was not born with a good memory, he was raised to gain one. Afterall he had places and lords and knights and servants and people and towns to oversee. Names of the families families and beyond. He had a lot of information rolling around in his head, but he was at this point well organized about keeping them in order. He could compartmentalize things and keep himself from losing his mind.

With you though? He’s known you since he was ten years old. It would have to be a failure of grand proportions for Robb to not know every little detail about you. Some he didn’t even realize he remembered years later until it came up in passing. But he’d known you for so long that you were hardly a stranger. What he learned since being married? Well, those were new details to remember which made them even less likely to be forgotten. Learning things about you after thinking he’d known all there was, was exciting. Seeing you in a new light and he eagerly treasured everything he’d learn about you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Truly, what even is there to say? He knew everything about you, because he watched you all the time. You haunted him, he saw you in everything and everyone and it was only because he knew so much about you, that he could connect the smallest of dots and lead it back to you. Jon wanted to know everything there was to know about you, and he had the memory to ensure it would never go away. He feared using the word obsessed, but, if he were to be brutally honest with himself, yes, he knew everything about you, because his love for you always bordered an obsession, which included knowing everything there was to know about the pretty Baratheon girl in his home.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There is little to even elaborate on. Jon remembered everything and anything about you when you were just a pretty Baratheon princess he was in love with. Now you were his wife, and you both were linked by blood in a very dark and unchanging magic sort of manner. If he knew everything there was to know about you before, Jon knew even more now and he doubted that even somehow losing all of his memory in some horrid accident would truly rid him of the knowledge he learned and held about you. Because everything he knew about you was in his heart, not his mind.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Robb:

There was only one answer. Everything had fallen apart. Theon had long since betrayed them, his mother betrayed him by freeing the Kingslayer, his plan to capture and kill the Mountain had somehow been ruined and his plans to second handedly assist Stannis Baratheon sailing on Kings Landing by keeping the Lannister forces distracted had thusly fallen out too. News came that his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully had finally passed after being ill for many years at the same time news that Winterfell had been burned down and Bran and Rickon were likely dead added on top.

Robb had gone the entire day trying to keep himself together. Finally in the room he was to use as his bedchambers for the next few nights, he sat on the edge of it and allowed the emotions to flow. He hadn’t cried the way he did when learning of his father, this was more of a defeated cry. Tears fell from his eyes without much fuss as he hid his head in his hands. Then you had walked in.

Nervous and wide eyed, you went to him to soothe his pain right away. Robb was receptive to it, as he declared that you only had each other anymore. But you had other ideas. Opening up his palm you dragged it under your clothes to rest upon your stomach and gently stated, “You have us.” Us, him, you, and a baby in your belly. It was an instant change the moment he put it together. Robb had many happy memories of you both, but nothing beat learning in the darkest of moments, that you both were to have a child together. It would always be a memory Robb would treasure until the end of his days.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

That would be the night he kissed you. A game of hunt, you, Robb, and Jon would play it for fun out in the wolfswood at children, but now older with Theon it was more of a challenge. You and Theon were quick and good at hiding, and Robb and Jon knew the wolfswood like the back of their hand. They’d hunt you both, and were one or both of you to not get caught by the middle of the night, you’d win.

It had begun pouring rain as the sky turned dark, Theon had been found. You hadn’t. Robb tried to get you to give up, but you likely thought it was a trick. Jon stayed behind to find you, perhaps, with intentions he wasn’t entirely sure he had yet. By the time he caught you, he could tell the air had shifted. He could tell you felt a charge and that something was going on. You tried to run, but he panicked. If you left now, Jon may never find the courage ever again and he couldn’t waste this single opportunity. So he made you stop, turned you to press your back against a tree and with only a few short and painfully tense seconds passing, Jon made his choice and kissed you.

Many things that happened in the years since that moment, but that one? Jon knew that memory would stay with him forever. The kiss he was terrified to give you, but opened the gates to a mutual love that he’d keep close to his heart until the day he died, and even then, not even death could pry that memory away from him.

Jon Post Resurrection:

There were a few which stood out. Guilty, Jon knew many of which were filthy. That night on Bear Island when he finally managed to get you to open up to him, feel comfortable around him the way he knew you were craving but felt guilty about. That first night when you brought him back, how chaotic his mind was while trapped with Ghosts, both their consciousnesses blending together in such a strange way both he and his direwolf feared would be forever. Then returning and knowing somehow it was by your hands? Seeing you was one thing, wide eyed and fearful not knowing it was not danger you were walking in on, but something you both thought at one point you’d lost. He dared not retread the manner which he took you multiple times, lest his mind dive far too deep in a perverse thought he could not escape.

But there was one innocent one, one he never thought he’d have because one day he saw you on the opposite end of such a sight years earlier. He watched you marry Robb under the Winterfell Weirwood in the summer air surrounded by strangers. But, then it was Jons turn. He was the one who married you under the Winterfell Weirwood in the perfect snowy winter surrounded only by people whom cared about you both, and you both to them. How quiet it was, and this time how that quiet was not filled with his mind in agony, but peace. Feeling your gloved hand under his as you both knelt before the heart tree to prey, and how he lost a little of his reserved sensibilities and kissed you. Perhaps a little too passionately. Twice. But it was a romantic daydream he thought of many times as a young lad and long since given up having with you, and yet here you both were. Choosing it of your own volition. Not even the night you shared together in his bed could top the ceremony itself, not a single thing.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Robb:

As King in the North, there is no lacking of protection at his own back. Everywhere he went, men and guards followed especially here in the south at war. He was not particularly thoughtful of his protection, because he had what he could have and made it work as best he could for a man who’d ride into battle at his mens sides.

As for you? He was very protective. Losing you would be devastating. With no room for question, Greywind would follow you no matter what. The direwolf was fine with it, feeling both antsy at war and not in battle, and Robbs love for you extended to his wolf. Guards followed you as well when necessary, but really? Keeping you right at his side was Robbs protection. He knew where you were and what you were doing and how safe you were that way. If he could see you, feel you, hear you? His mind was at ease. He could rest well knowing you were safe at his side. Perhaps he should award you with more freedom sometimes, but as long as you didn’t truly complain, Robb would continue to let his protectiveness be overbearing.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He’s always been protective. When he was young, Jon would stand over you almost like a guard dog. Or a guard wolf really. You were small and innocent and adorable and he felt a deep and burning need in his blood to keep you safe. He always could be found watching over you if time permitted, and he knew spending time with you was the best way to protect you.

That didn’t change the older he got, and in truth, it didn’t change at all. Jon did the same things, only now you knew why he was so protective, and you still didn’t protest. A bit of pride could fill Jons chest, that you even now, were still appreciative that he would always watch over you.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon? Protective? What ever could you mean? If anything were to happen to you, Jon would station every single guard in as many locations as he could and make sure Theon ensured you had two guards following you at all times at the least. He never has spoken it to you, but he and Theon have indeed had discussions about protocol in regards to your safety as both are aware that you sometimes let your own self preservation fall lax in favour of doing things for other people. He is just waiting for the day someone tries to go too far with you in any way to let it all out, and everyone including you will see how protective their new King in the North will become about his wife.

But personally? Jon watches you like a hawk. His dark eyes always seeing, his keen ears always hearing, and his senses merely knowing where you are in relation to him in the room. He has Ghost follow you often, and many times, not that he would tell you, has gone into Ghosts mind to watch over you himself during the middle of the day if he can spare the time. He is possessive and obsessive about keeping you safe, and most would and will see it as overprotective and overbearing, but Jon can genuinely do no less when it comes to you. Without you, he would he a shadow of his former shadow.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Robb:

He’s at war, he does what he can. Meals are not extravagant. There’s no where he can take you. There isn’t much of anything for special days or name days that you could give each other. At any time, you would have to pack up and leave or lose something charging into battle. What you offered each other out here was emotions, was support and love. Not tangible gifts. Were Robb able to take you back to Winterfell where you both belonged? Of course he would spoil you endlessly, but he had to keep focused. Not spend too much time in the fantasy that was nowhere close just yet.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He couldn’t do much. He had to be careful. Anything too elaborate could get him caught, and you caught, and it would all be over. There were times Jon would plan out days to spend with you out in the wolfswood, but that wasn’t anything special. That was necessary, planning out how to spend as much close time with you in private as possible, where, and when would be too long that it would be suspicious. You both tried, gifting each other small things that would mean a lot to the other, but Jon was unable to give you what you deserved. He couldn’t afford too, not if he didn’t want to get caught.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon does not have much in the way of opportunity to do things for you in a traditional sense. What anniversary would you two celebrate? Thats far too complicated and too much pressure for both of you, his duties and yours leave the day to day very busy and no time for anything such as dates or courtship. Neither of you have been very good at giving each other proper gifts for celebrations or name days nor does Jon want to put pressure on you by doing more, because he knows it would wrongly pressure you into thinking he expects you to do more when he doesn’t want that.

What Jon does do, is make up for it in a slightly insecure way. You many times now lost all of your possessions. Most of what you owned had been in Kings Landing, which were lost to you the moment Ser Barristan Selmy smuggled you through the tunnels underneath the Red Keep and out of the city. Then anything you and Robb acquired when at war were lost when the Boltons and the Freys betrayed and butchered you both. Anything you owned when a prisoner of the Boltons were not yours and you would rather burn everything they made you own or wear then keep it for keeps sake. You had arrived at Castle Black in clothes they gave you, and when Jon had what little of clothes in the Nights Watch he could have made tailored to you, you wore those and left the rest behind until Maege and Alysane Mormont gifted you more proper clothes on Bear Island. Everything you owned after that? Was because of Jon.

Was it insecure? That he was trying to make up for being a bastard, by giving you everything he could? Possibly, but he did it anyways under the guise of simply giving you your belongings back. He had dresses made for you all the time, had books found or sent to Winterfell to fill the little bookshelf he had made for you in the bedchambers because he knows you miss all of the unique collections you had in Kings Landing. Jon spoiled you in those sorts of gifts, but truly, he didn’t quite know how to stop.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Robb:

His jealousy was his worst habit. You didn’t seem to mind it, but Robb knew it could be a problem in his own relationship to other men. He didn’t often let you see the effects of his jealousy, but his men did and sometimes that could only add on top of his jealousy because now you were further the centre of attention. Which only encouraged his jealousy further.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Truth be told, Jons worst habit was you. Keeping you a secret, not giving you the romance and care you so publicly deserved. Not courting you the way a lord would or should, but in the shadows were he ruined things about your purity because he couldn’t stop himself. He never went too far, but it didn’t mean Jon was not aware that he was not treating you with the proper respect. He was not treating you the way a royal girl deserved. He knew he was reckless by being with you, but he couldn’t stop. It was Jons worst habit, but he couldn’t stop.

Jon Post Resurrection:

He is possessive, obsessive, and near addicted to you. Jon knows it is a problem, you are so much of his life. Maester Wolkan put it perfectly once. Since he was brought back from death, Jon has genuinely never known a life you were not in. You brought him back and have been at his side every single day since. You did not. You came back to life alone and traumatized and tormented and tortured. So he knows he is more obsessive about you then you are him to a degree that makes him feel a bit mad. He should be more reasonable about you then he often is, but he cannot help it now and it is terrible and scares him. He was once scared it would all frighten you off, but now hes more aware of how it looks to others. The North has more or less gotten used to it, but how will he appear to any outsiders? It was hard to say and Jon was certainly not looking forward to finding out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Robb:

Not in an extreme sense was he overly concerned with his looks. Obviously, Robb had eyes. He knew he was handsome, and he knew women thought he was handsome. Bright and bold blue eyes, brown and reddish rich curls, and years of training had sculpted him with muscle. He took a certain pride in his appearance but he was not vain about it. His life and person was not defined by how he looked, it simply encouraged a bit of confidence more then before.

The only time he truly realized how much he cared about how he looked, was when you were to arrive in Winterfell with the Kings company. You knew what he looked like, it wouldn’t come as a shock but it really felt as if there was a pressure to reassure you that you should be happy with all aspects of marrying him. He wanted you to be attracted to him, but really, it did not take much to put together that you were. How quickly your mind was getting used to the idea of being with him and by your wedding night together? Robb knew you and he were as attracted to each other as you truly should be.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Jon was not terribly concerned with how he looked. It was the perception of who he was as a bastard that mattered to him. Not what they thought of his looks. He looked how he looked and whatever care he put into it was nothing compared to how be obsessed with the way people perceived him. He knew you found him attractive, and that was the only validation he needed. He put in the effort of himself for you, and the rest of it was whatever it was. You were the only thing worth charming, and if you didn’t complain about how he looked, Jon would not spend his time fussing over it for your non existent sake.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Truly, you are attracted to him. Thats all that matters. He thinks little of how he looks, his shape, his scars, his hair, any of it. You like how he looks and there isn’t a single thing that would matter to Jon more then that. People can say what they want, as long as you’re happy looking at him, thats all the validation he needs that he’s doing enough to impress you as he believes a husband should.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Robb:

You were always important to Robb, but now? Now you were his whole life. He dragged you from battlefield to battlefield, fighting one side of a war to another and watching the toll it took on both of you. But, you were all each other had in the end. Your love for each other and now the child growing inside of you? What Robb would do without you? He couldn’t imagine a life beyond you.

Returning home? One day being forced to remarry and have a child that wasn’t the one he created with you? Robb didn’t want to feel whole without you, there was a comfort in being so in need of each other. Being out at war, who did he have? His brother sworn to a new life, two of his brothers first hostages and now dead, one sister missing and likely dead, and another still a hostage he won’t know if he’d ever see again. His father dead, his mother betrayed his trust, his friend betrayed his family? Robb only had you, and with how split your family was, you only had him. Robbs entire life was you, and in truth, at that point, he was okay with that.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He could, but by necessity. Jon was going to give you up one day. He was being selfish by keeping you the way he did. He felt complete when he was with you, but how complete was he truly when he knew it would not last. He had to be his own person outside of that. He had to be complete without you, because one day you wouldn’t be there. He cheated a little, taking your heart with him to the Wall meant he never really let you go. You stayed in his memory for that entire time and perhaps yes, once could say Jon didn’t feel complete without a part of you. But he had no choice but to handle it, and when you were dead, well, that completeness was clearly important to him. Because he felt more dead inside without you in the world then ever before. He only had no idea how much that would change one fateful night.

Jon Post Resurrection:

No. All Jon knows in his soul, is that he is made for you and you him. Something stronger then love is there in his veins burning for you like he’s been strapped to a pyre only you are there with him, feeling the same. Something between you both has put you on each others path to such a powerful degree that it used to scare him. He thinks it still scares you, but that is alright. He is happy to be brave enough for both of you as long as you need him to be, because he is never going anywhere. He had to give you up once, and it lead to both of your deaths. In this new life, where you are the one to bring him back of all people? Jon will never let you go again, and he couldn’t.

Death is the only way that could tear you from Jon at this point, and even then, Jon knows he would do whatever it took to be the one to bring you back to him that time. Nothing would tear you both apart anymore, he would not be himself without you. He would walk, and talk, and fight for his people but everything that brought Jon back a man, a human, it would all be for nothing without you. Without you, he would walk this world a husk of a man that used to have a heart and soul.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Robb:

He’s never told you about when he was fourteen. He doesn’t quite recall when or why it begun, but he remembered looking at you differently. At twelve you were still short and young and innocent, but there was part of you that was mature. Your nature, your mind and truthfully, were you not so short then, you looked his age at the minimum. It was easy to fall for you in a heavy crush.

You were his first real crush that meant anything, and he had once made the mistake of telling his mother and backtracking saying not to ever bring it up. It went away on it’s own, he never would’ve gone to you about it especially when you were so innocent. But it existed, and when he was told he was to marry you, in truth? It made adjusting to it so much easier. Robb knew he was never going to have a difficulty falling for you.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

When Jon was finally considering if making love to you was something you would both be interested in, Jon had a dirty little secret. He never followed through on it, but it came into his mind. He wanted to make sure it was good for you, that it was memorable. Jon was as much a virgin as yourself, but he wanted to take care of you. You’d be a scared thing in his bed, and he needed to be confident. But, he didn’t know how. So he considered it. Only finding his way to the Winter Town brothel to ask the whores there for advice. But, the bastard son of Ned Stark being seen going into the brothel? He’d never hear the end of it, and he never would want you to think he was being unfaithful. So, he never did it, but he wanted too. Just to ask them what to do, how to make you feel good. Instead, he went into that afternoon having to trust his instincts, and perhaps, for his confidence’s sake, it was a good thing that in the end, both of you changed your minds.

Jon Post Resurrection:

It is a very small thing, but he would feel embarrassed if you knew. Jon knew you loved to read, and that you must have had such a wonderful collection in Kings Landing. When on Dragonstone, one morning Jon walked the castle alone. He came across a grand library full of books and scrolls, half of which were in a language he did not know, only assuming it must have been High Valyrian. He could imagine you in here for hours and hours looking and reading through everything you could. He had gone to Selyse, asking if there were any books he should take back with him to suprise you with. Where you were he didn’t even know, but she pulled out so many. Half all in High Valyrian but she assured Jon that these were ones you read time and time again always deeply invested, and many more in common that he could understand your appeal in them.

Even now, he still asked her for more suggestions. He’d ask any in Winterfell now who knew you as a girl what to have brought in for you to read. You never said it, but you knew it was suspicious that the little bookshelf he brought into the chambers for you was full of titles and books he never would’ve heard of or known to bring in for you. But you read them happily all the same, and that made it worth it. Afterall, Jon still had trunk loads of books which he hadn’t let you know he brought over for you yet, and slowly would build your new little personal library in Winterfell a bit at a time just because he knew seeing a new title on the shelf made you happy.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Robb:

In a partner, Robb has a few things which are important to him. Many of which tied in together. You had to be someone who respected who he was as a Northmen, respect the North itself, his family, his beliefs and causes. You should have your own opinions and feel free to say them of course, but as a partner, as a wife at his side? You needed to be on his side. Robb’s beliefs and values were of great important to him as they were for many Starks, and he needed someone who wouldn’t stand there and fight him on the basis of what he believed.

He needed to be able to make the hard choices, and not have his wife stand opposite to him and tell him he’s wrong. There are things he needs to do as a Lord and now a King, and he needs a wife who won’t disrespect the heavy burden which comes with that. He will always take care of you, but in your own way, he needs you to take care of him right back. He needs a wife who will give and take, your strengths match his weaknesses, and his strengths carry for yours. Anyone who can’t give him that, would be a wife Robb would have great difficulty in adjusting to.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

Forward, aggressive women. Truth be told, Jon never considered what kind of woman he didn’t like, until he met Ygritte. That was the harsh lesson he learned. She was everything you were not, and whatever similarities you shared were superficial. She took all of those to the extreme enough that it didn’t matter anymore. She was angry where you were sweet, she could be dense where you were incredibly smart and perceptive, she was aggressive where you were considerate, she was loud and mean where you were quiet and gentle.

He foolishly thought he could pretend to not love you anymore, just to be able to pretend to love her, but it was stupid. It got him shot full of arrows, and a deep understanding that it was pointless to ever think he would replace your love. But, it he had to pretend ever again, Jon knew it could never be a repeat of what Ygritte put him through. You never forced Jon to do anything against his will.

Jon Post Resurrection:

In truth, it had not come to pass yet. But he was waiting for the day it would and he hated that he still did not have a plan of how to handle it without issue. If Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne, he would never at this point agree to his aunt, the Daenerys Targaryen to be his Queen nor did he think from what little he hear do the woman, would she want that either. But, Aegon would need someone strong at his side, stronger then most Queens in recent passed. And Jon knew who that strong Queen was.

You were married to Jon, and when you had children it would be even more difficult to make happen, but Jon had a terrible feeling that the men around Aegon were smart enough to recognize the power of combining the feuding Targaryen and Baratheon on the Iron Throne once and for all after all of the fighting and rebellion, and Aegon likely would begin to see the benefit in that union as well. He did not know what would happen when the day came that such an idea came to fruition and turned into something akin to a plan, but Jon was desperately working away in his mind at how to stop it. He was only a bastard after all, and in the eyes of many in the south, him being a bastard was an insult at your side, and someone like the true heir to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen would be a fitting suitor for you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Robb:

Robb’s sleeping habit is that he will always sense you moving. If you try to slip from bed, he will yank you back into his chest. Even without being awake, Robb can sense where you’re going and if he can help it, will make you stay with him for as long as he can keep you. If not, Greywind has been known to wake up in his place and follow you. Robb wouldn’t call himself a needy man, but when he has you, his pretty little wife in bed, especially out in a war? He’s keeping you with him as long as possible before he needs to get up and face the day. His men and this war can wait twenty more minutes for him to get his fill of feeling your soft self pressed up against his front.

Jon Pre Resurrection:

He struggled with sleep. He always had. He’d have strange, dark, melancholic dreams that would almost plague him with a sense of doom. He slept alone his entire life, despite knowing what it felt like to have you in his arms. Sleep always came to him with difficulty, both in falling asleep and with how often he’d wake up in the middle of the night only to struggle once more to fall back asleep. He’d get up and do things to occupy his mind, he’d wander, some nights even finding himself in the training yard alone hoping to let out that energy he couldn’t do anything with otherwise. Sometimes he thought maybe he’d sleep better were you next to him, but Jon would then glance in the general direction of the corridor your own chambers were in, and told himself with anger to give that dream up. Once the dreams started at Castle Black, that sleep got no better, and it only got worse and worse until that night came where his own brothers were prepared to put him to sleep for good.

Jon Post Resurrection:

Jon hates sleeping without you in his arms. There have been very few times you have not slept in his arms since you and he reunited, but those few times drove Jon mad. He despised them, he barley slept. He would take Ghost and sit in the Godswood the way his father used to after a kill to stew in his thoughts in the eyes of the Old Gods. Only it was simply a very grumpy man who missed his wife.

When you both did sleep in the same bed, he stayed awake longer then you. Watching over you as you slept to make sure he could protect you from even your own nightmares. He never told you about how often he had nightmares of his own. Nor that he would wake up many times and rip the sheets and furs off of you to push up the thin fabric of your shift to look at the scars on your womb, and up more to see your chest breathing in your sleep. He’d feel the scars littered about his chest, then feel his beating heart over the final one and pull everything back into place, then drawing you back closer into his arms before trying to settle long enough to sleep once more.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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quietwingsinthesky · 11 months ago

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thinks about child-but-growing-fast amara and lucifer in the same room and gets ill.

#im gonna get called a homestuck again im SORRY its a good trope #she’s not his mom but she is. older than him and older than god and a being he helped imprison.#and the effects of that. here and now. are that she is so weak she has to relearn how to exist.#that she has to eat souls. tear them out one by one. you have to imagine that lucifer once saw her devour whole galaxies on a whim.#back when everything was moving in constant flux between destruction and creation. you have to imagine.#what is it to see her like this. is it pitiable. awful. comforting because she can’t hurt him right now and if he struck first maybe she #never could?#would he think about this moment this experience later when he’s made human. when he experiences a similar powerlessness.#anyway. lucifer gets out of the cage and trashes crowley’s place to kidnap his aunt-who-is-baby-right-now #u know me i love when characters go on the run together. what a weird little bond they’d form.#how do you overcome the anger at someone who helped cage you for eternity? does it help to know he didn’t escape your fate just because he #helped seal it when it was you? do you think they trade cage stories.#do you think lucifer tells her about how michael is still trapped in there and when he goes quiet. it’s not him who says he’s glad michael #knows what it’s like. it’s amara who says it. with an anger older than time. bitter enough to sting.#arms curled around herself because she’s hungry now. always hungry. tries not to think about what lucifer would taste like. (powerful)#sitting on a bench together watching people (souls. meals.) walk by. talking about prisons. talking about justice. maybe. or revenge. same #thing. and amara is leaning against him coiled tight through every muscle in her body and so so hungry. and when she says she’s glad michael #is suffering she isn’t really talking about him. but when she says it. lucifer lets out a breath. and says. me too.#and then he goes to find her something(one) to eat.#u see my vision. u do.

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umamaki · 1 month ago

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FALSE GOD ! caleb x reader

CONTAINS l&ds caleb, female reader, hurt/comfort, explicit smut, pwp, size kink if squint, caleb gloves mentioned, car sex, gendered pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, edging, brief inappropriate use of evol, language, possessiveness, make up sex yay, lmk what i miss. wc 1.4k

NOTE i had an itch and i scratched it…

divider by saradika_graphics

“There’s my girl.”

The roof of the parking lot is supposed to be empty. Your car is the only one parked and you certainly hadn’t heard another pair of footsteps accompanying yours just now.

You don’t allow yourself a chance to be startled by the familiar voice cutting through the night’s silence as the revolver once snug in your waistband is aimed at their throat.

Nothing—nothing could’ve prepared you for who was at the other end. There did not exist a single universe where you would’ve been able to correctly guess, unless it’s one where dead men come back alive.

“Caleb?” It was barely a whisper, but the soft wind carried your voice to his ears. You falter and step back. The gun still points at him but it’s your arms that only slightly weaken.

“So it really is you,” he looks different, matured. He’s grown taller and gained weight. There’s a mix of desperation and relief in the way he looks at you, “you haven’t changed a bit, Love.”

There’s a hint of a tease in his tone, but he doesn’t mean it. He watches you with bated breath, gauging your reaction.

You finally snap out of it.

“What the fuck, Caleb? I thought you died!” Anger overcomes your initial shock. Betrayal, too. You raise the gun back at his throat, your grip on it tightening.

“And here I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“I don’t know where the hell you’ve been. But you know, you really had me fucking convinced.”

“Don’t be so naive. I did what I had to do.”

“Like what, lie? To me? That’s bullshit and you know it.” His face gets blurry with every tear that begins to cloud your vision. You hastily blink them away, just to see him in clarity again. “You were my best friend.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He steps forward. He uses one hand to lower your gun away from his body, and the other to wipe the tears flowing down your cheek. He bows down to where his face is level with yours, “so let me make it up to you.”

He finally embraces you. His face is buried into your shoulder and he holds you so tightly that you can hardly muster up enough breath to tell him to relax. He smells like home.

“I missed you, you know. I missed you the whole time. You’re my girl, after all.” He looks you in the eyes and there’s earnest in every part of him, you don’t doubt it.

“I thought I lost you,”

“I’m here now. Let me take care of you, make up for the time we lost, hm?”

He ghosts his lips up over yours but waits for your confirmation. You don’t hesitate to close the gap. He immediately devours your mouth with his, kissing you back with such fervor that you are firmly pressed against the side of your car.

You think you feel drops of rain fall down on you, but Caleb is quick. He opens the your back door and positions you at the entrance.

“And look what I can do now,” his hands settle on the top edge of the door and you’re not sure why that is, until you feel an invisible force thrust you to lay across the back seats. The top of your head brushes against his knuckles but it doesn’t hurt.

The door is slammed shut and Caleb is immediately back on you, wasting no time in kissing and sucking a trail down from your jaw to your neck.

“We probably shouldn’t.” He’d changed over the time he was gone, that part was true. He carried around an air of danger and sin. However you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just the least bit tempted by it.

“Yeah? Says who? There’s no one else here but us.” You gasp when he nips your neck where your pulse is, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. “You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

His hands circle your inner thigh. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing to you. You’re practically soaked through to your pants. You regret what you said and shake your head, taking it back.

“What is it? Use your words baby,”

“Don’t stop. Please, Caleb, don’t stop.”

He parts from your neck and lowers himself to make out with your tits through your clothes. The pressure coming from him and the friction of your clothes rubbing against your sensitive nipples causes a moan of pleasure to escape from your lips.

You kick off your shoes and he helps with pulling both your pants and underwear off with one fluid motion. He positions your thighs to rest atop each of his shoulders, sloppily kissing the inside of them. Your hands naturally find themselves grasping his hair.

“This all for me?” He begins with a tentative lick to your clit, but it’s not enough. You pull him closer to your heat through his hair, all the confirmation he needs to fully make out with your pussy.

“Ngh—Caleb…” You whimper his name in between moans. Your heels involuntarily dig into his back, hard, but still he doesn’t budge. He sucks on your clit and licks at your folds with the same intensity as before.

“You taste good, baby. All mine.” He rises to kiss you, failing to neglect your lower half as his gloved fingers plunge themselves in your aching hole, thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

The warmth inside you increases with each thrust of Caleb’s fingers. Your moans become louder and you become limp in his hold. You’re ready to reach your climax, so when he abruptly rips his fingers out of you, you can’t help but let out a whine.

You’re out of breath and confused. In your haze, he pulls off his belt and frees his hard cock from his pants, stroking it for a moment of relief.

He was big. Not surprising, given the way his body fills up the enclosed space of your car. Everything about him was so, so big.

He appears to be able to read your mind. “You can take it, can’t you?” To that you answer with a nod, eyes not leaving his length. “Good girl.”

You’re still sensitive from when he fingered you and the subsequent intrusion is a mix of pleasure and pain. He takes satisfaction in seeing you take him so well, inch by inch. He likes how your pretty mouth hangs open and how your belly rises and falls with each labored breath.

After what feels like an eternity, he’s stretched you out to the hilt. You’re convinced you’ve never felt so utterly and completely full as you do now.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He presses a hand down on your stomach solely to feel himself inside you.

“Just, move. Please—” You’re growing desperate and restless.

“Is that the tone you want to use with me?” He draws back so only his tip remains inside you. “But since you said please…” You scream when his cock slams back in and starts going at a ruthless pace. You hear lightning strike in the distance.

“Fuck fuck, Feels s’good Caleb—”

“That’s it, pretty girl. You’re doing so well. Missed this so much.”

Your orgasm comes fast this time. It’s blinding and encompassing and it takes all your breath away. He takes you through it, continuing his pace and rubbing your clit for added relief. He follows suit soon after, finishing inside you with one last thrust and collapsing on top of you without pulling out. The weight is comfortable, warm.

Your windows are covered in a layer of fog and the rain outside has become a wet downpour. The muffled sound of raindrops surround the two of you and you think you could fall asleep in this exact moment.

“I’m still mad at you.” Your hands find their way back to playing with his hair.

He chuckles and his whole body vibrates as he does, “I know, Babygirl. I know.”

1K notes · View notes

areislol · 2 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyandere monster harem

pairings. various m! yandere monsters x gn! reader

warnings. yandere themes, toxic obsession, 18+ dark themes

a/n. i love my sillies!!

wc. 6.1k

imagine a dark, mystical forest where you're the lone human, fated to cross paths with a group of terrifying yet obsessively devoted monsters.

each of them is unique in their appearance and abilities, but they all share one thing: an unrelenting desire to make you theirs, no matter the cost.

the werewolf

a hulking figure with sharp claws, wild amber eyes, and a low growl that vibrates through your very bones. he encountered you when you wandered too close to his den during a full moon. despite his primal instincts, he resisted harming you, instead captivated by your bravery—or foolishness.

he tracks your scent everywhere you go. if you so much as step outside, he’s already following from the shadows, ensuring your safety (and warding off anyone who dares to come near).

he marks your belongings with his scent and doesn’t hesitate to bare his teeth at anyone he deems a threat. you’re his mate, and he’ll challenge anyone who thinks otherwise.

though rough and wild, he becomes uncharacteristically gentle when he sees you hurt or scared, licking your wounds and curling protectively around you.

the werewolf is a wild, untamed force of nature, his obsession with you rooted in instincts so primal he can't suppress them even if he tried.

he watches you from the shadows, always nearby but rarely letting himself be seen at first. your scent drives him to madness—earthy, warm, uniquely you. it's comforting and addictive, and he can't get enough. he's stolen pieces of your life to keep close: a scarf left behind, a mug you drank from, anything that holds your essence.

his possessiveness is terrifying. he won't let anyone else near you if he can help it. if someone gets too close, he intervenes, his voice low and threatening, his golden eyes burning with barely concealed rage. no one dares challenge him; there's something in the way he moves, the way he looms, that screams danger.

he doesn't understand human boundaries. if you're speaking to someone too long, he'll step in, claiming he needs to talk to you or finding some excuse to drag you away. if you protest, he'll growl—not at you, never at you—but in frustration. you're his; why can't everyone else see that?

but with you, he's soft. gentle. when he's sure you're not afraid of him, he'll let you closer, let you see the man beneath the beast. his touch is careful, almost reverent, as if he's afraid he'll break you. when you're upset, he wraps himself around you, his warmth and presence enough to shield you from the world.

his affection shows in small ways. he brings you gifts from the forest: flowers, feathers, shiny rocks he thought you'd like. he watches your reaction closely, his heart swelling with pride when you smile. if you ever thank him, he becomes almost shy, looking away with a faint blush creeping up his neck.

jealousy is his constant battle. if he sees someone making you laugh or smile, his claws dig into his palms. he won't confront you about it, but the person who caused his jealousy might find themselves on the receiving end of his wrath later.

at night, he lingers near your home. the thought of you alone, unprotected, drives him crazy. he paces, his instincts screaming at him to stay close. sometimes, he leaves small signs that he's there—a paw print in the dirt, a tuft of fur snagged on a branch—as if he wants you to know he's watching over you.

his biggest fear is your rejection. he knows he's more beast than man, and the thought of you being afraid of him keeps him awake at night. if you ever flinch or pull away, it shatters him, and he'll retreat, his golden eyes filled with pain. but he always comes back, unable to stay away, his obsession too strong to overcome.

you are his anchor, his reason for fighting the beast within. he doesn't care what it takes; he'll keep you safe, even if it means keeping you all to himself. his love is overwhelming, suffocating, but he doesn't see it that way. to him, it's devotion—pure, unbreakable, eternal.

his growl rumbled low as kael draegon stepped from the shadows, his golden eyes fixed on you with that same wild, desperate intensity.

"don't be afraid," kael draegon whispered, his voice rough but steady as he offered you his hand. the cold breeze tugged at his hair as he stood beside you, his voice soft as he murmured, "you're safe now, with me."

kael draegon always seemed to appear just when you needed him, his presence both calming and terrifying. his hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment before kael draegon pulled back, his voice almost apologetic. "old instincts, i'm sorry."

the vampire

elegant and poised, with glowing crimson eyes and a voice like silk, the vampire first saw you in the dead of night. he was drawn to the purity of your blood but became enthralled by the purity of your soul instead.

his pale, marble-like skin seems to glow faintly in the moonlight, untouched by time or imperfection. his crimson eyes burn with a smouldering intensity, framed by thick lashes that only add to his magnetic gaze.

his raven-black hair falls in soft, silky waves around his sharp cheekbones, perfectly complementing his aristocratic features. his tall, slender frame moves with a predatory grace, and his voice—smooth as velvet—wraps around you like a dark lullaby.

he loves to watch you sleep, marvelling at your vulnerability. He’ll slip into your room at night, not to harm you, but to leave gifts—a rose, a letter, or even a piece of jewellery from an unknown era.

the vampire despises anyone who captures your attention. Friends, family, or even strangers—they’re nothing but distractions. He may use his hypnotic gaze to erase their presence from your life.

he gets flustered when you show him kindness, like bandaging a wound he sustained in your defence. he tries to hide his blush, but his pale complexion betrays him.

the vampire is as elegant as he is dangerous, his presence suffocating yet alluring, like the pull of a siren's song on a lonely traveler at sea. his crimson eyes gleam in the dark, reflecting centuries of wisdom and hunger, but when he looks at you, they’re soft, desperate, and entirely devoted. you’re his obsession, his muse, his reason to exist in a world that has grown cold and lonely with age.

he first saw you during one of his midnight wanderings, his attention drawn by your scent, a sweet, intoxicating mix of vulnerability and warmth. you were an easy target at first—a stranger out on a walk, unassuming, untouched by the weight of the supernatural world. but then he watched you, from the shadows, and the hunger in him shifted. you weren’t just food, not in the way he expected. you were you.

his obsession grew quickly, a slow, crawling thing that nestled in his bones. he has a habit of appearing when you least expect it: slipping through your window as you sleep, standing at the end of a dark alley when you’re walking home, always close but never intrusive enough to harm you. he studies you with endless fascination, watching how you move, how you smile, how you react to the smallest moments of life. you are his everything.

he is a master manipulator, charming and patient, with a voice like silk and words that dance between honeyed promises and half-truths. he always knows just what to say, always seems to be exactly where you are, making sure you feel safe.

but beneath the charm is something ancient, something sharp—a predator who has learned how to play the long game to get what he wants. you are his, and he has all the time in the world to make sure you know it.

his jealousy is sharp and swift. the moment another person shows even the slightest interest in you, his eyes narrow, his smile turns colder. it doesn’t take much for him to make his presence known, weaving himself into your life, into your conversations, until the other person is left with nothing but fear or confusion. you are his, and he’ll ensure that no one else tries to stake their claim.

he doesn’t simply show his obsession through manipulation. he is far more intimate, far more human in the moments where he can let his guard down. he’ll leave you gifts—roses with petals as red as blood, antique trinkets from his many years of wandering, or old letters written in his perfect, flowing script.

he tries to convey his feelings subtly, his words wrapped in metaphors and promises, but they always come from the deepest part of his heart.

he’s possessive in the way only a centuries-old predator can be. he touches you often, with a hand to your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, or lightly grazing your hand as if you might slip away at any moment.

he isn’t violent, not by nature, but his love is all-encompassing, wrapping itself around you like a snake squeezing its prey. you belong to him in every way, and he has no intention of letting you slip out of his grasp.

his dark powers allow him to watch you from afar, slipping into your dreams, invading the quiet moments of your subconscious. you’ll wake with his voice lingering in your mind, his whispers promises of eternity, of a life spent with him, of safety, beauty, and endless nights. he wants you to rely on him, to lean into his presence, to crave his touch, until you can’t imagine your life without him.

when you show kindness or affection toward him, his calm, elegant mask slips. his eyes soften, his voice trembles slightly, and he finds himself speechless.

he’s terrified of showing too much, of letting you see the raw hunger that lies beneath his smooth exterior, but he can’t stop himself. your smile, your laughter, it means everything to him, more than centuries of darkness and isolation ever could.

he would give you everything. his life, his immortality, his heart. but he struggles with the weight of his own nature—the bloodlust that lies just beneath his perfect, pale skin. he’s not just obsessed with you out of a need to control or dominate; he truly cares. he wants you safe, protected, happy. but his fear of losing you makes him cruel, calculating, and relentless.

you are his forever, and he has no intention of sharing you with anyone else, not with the world, not with time, not with destiny itself. his love is suffocating, but it is eternal, and as much as it terrifies him, he knows you’ll never escape his grasp. he’ll make sure of it.

his voice was like silk as dorian vale leaned against the window frame, his crimson eyes glinting in the moonlight

"you shouldn't be out here alone," dorian vale said smoothly, stepping closer, his voice as soft as a whisper. dorian vale’s gaze was piercing, unyielding, and you could feel every moment of his attention as he looked at you

he handed you a single red rose, his pale fingers delicate as he said, "for you, my dear.

his presence lingered, and you could feel dorian vale’s words in your bones as he whispered, "you were always meant to be mine."

the ghost

a shadowy figure with hollow eyes that glow faintly in the dark, the ghost is a tragic soul who found solace in your warmth. his attachment to you began when you unknowingly lingered in the house he haunts, speaking softly to the empty air as if sensing his presence.

alaric’s form is translucent, a faint, glowing silhouette that shifts and flickers like mist. his features are soft and hauntingly beautiful, with a melancholy that clings to him like a shadow.

his once-vivid eyes are now pale, like the reflection of a full moon in still water, and his long hair drifts around him as if caught in a gentle breeze. though incorporeal, he retains the faint shape of his elegant hands and tall, lean frame, an echo of the man he once was.

his presence feels like a cool touch on your skin, a constant, bittersweet reminder of his undying devotion.

he manipulates the environment to keep you close—doors creak shut when you try to leave, and objects mysteriously disappear, only to reappear where he wants you to stay.

if anyone hurts you, the ghost unleashes his wrath. lights flicker, temperatures drop, and your assailants are haunted until they’re too terrified to approach you again.

he’s deeply moved when you acknowledge him, even if it’s just a whisper to the air. your willingness to accept him, despite his incorporeal nature, solidifies his eternal devotion.

the ghost is a tragic, ethereal figure, bound to you by a love that death itself couldn’t sever. his form is translucent, shimmering faintly in the moonlight, and though he may no longer have a heartbeat, his emotions are as raw and overwhelming as they were in life. he exists in the liminal space between the living and the dead, obsessed with you in a way that is both haunting and heartbreakingly tender.

he doesn’t remember how or when it started—only that one day, he found himself drawn to you, unable to leave your side. whether it was your voice, your laughter, or the way you brought life to even the smallest, most mundane moments, you became his light in the suffocating darkness of his afterlife. he watches you from the corners of rooms, a faint chill in the air marking his presence, his spectral form always lingering just out of reach.

his love is quiet, but all-consuming. he whispers your name into the night when you sleep, his voice carried on the softest breeze. he rearranges small things in your home to make his presence known: a book left open to a meaningful passage, a flower you swore wasn’t there before resting on your windowsill. at first, it’s subtle—gentle signs that you’re never truly alone—but as his obsession deepens, the signs become harder to ignore.

jealousy eats away at him when others capture your attention. he can’t bear the thought of you being close to anyone else, of you laughing or smiling with someone who isn’t him. when you’re out, he follows you like a shadow, unseen but ever-present, and if someone gets too close, the air turns cold, the lights flicker, and an unshakable unease settles over them until they leave.

he craves your touch, but his incorporeal form makes it impossible. this frustrates him endlessly, and he spends nights lingering near you, reaching out as if he could somehow feel the warmth of your skin, the beat of your heart. his desperation leads him to try anything to bridge the gap between life and death, no matter the cost.

despite his possessiveness, he’s deeply protective. he uses his abilities to shield you from harm, warding off danger with an almost primal ferocity. if someone threatens you, they’ll find themselves plagued by unexplainable misfortunes—objects falling, shadows moving, and an unrelenting sense of being watched. he doesn’t harm them directly, but his presence is enough to terrify even the boldest.

when he speaks to you, it’s with a voice like the echo of a forgotten melody, soft and tinged with sorrow. he tells you things you shouldn’t know—secrets from your past, glimpses of your future, things only someone who’s been watching you so intimately could know. he wants you to feel his devotion, his undying love, even if it frightens you.

there’s a tragic loneliness to him. he knows he can never truly be with you, not in the way he desires, and this realization drives him to the edge of despair. his love is obsessive, yes, but it’s also painfully pure—an eternal yearning for a connection he can never fully have.

if you acknowledge him, his devotion only deepens. the smallest smile, a whispered “thank you” into the empty room, is enough to make his entire existence worthwhile. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are his only solace in an eternity of longing.

he follows you everywhere, unseen but ever-present, his translucent form flickering in the corner of your eye or casting a fleeting shadow against the wall. at first, his presence is subtle, almost unnoticeable: the faint creak of floorboards when no one else is home, a cold breeze brushing against your skin, the lingering feeling that someone is watching you. but as his obsession deepens, his presence grows stronger, more impossible to ignore.

he learns everything about you. the way you hum absentmindedly when you’re focused, the scent of your favorite tea, the books you read late into the night. he listens to the sound of your heartbeat as you sleep, a steady rhythm that lulls him into a state of peace he hasn’t felt since he was alive. he treasures these moments, hoarding every detail about you like precious relics of a life he can never fully be part of.

his jealousy is a storm that rages within him. when others come into your life, his calm demeanor shatters. he can’t bear the thought of you sharing your smiles, your laughter, or your attention with anyone else. the air around you grows colder when someone he deems a threat is near, and they often find themselves inexplicably uneasy in your presence. lights flicker, objects fall, and whispers echo in the corners of the room, driving them away with a fear they can’t explain.

but with you, he is soft, almost fragile. he speaks to you in whispers, his voice carrying the faint echo of a forgotten melody, full of longing and sorrow. "don’t be afraid," he murmurs into the quiet of the night. "i’ll always protect you." his words are laced with an aching devotion, a promise to guard you from harm, even if you don’t fully understand where the comfort is coming from.

he leaves you gifts, though he has no tangible hands to place them. a single white flower on your windowsill that wasn’t there the night before, an old, weathered book that appeared on your desk, or a faint message written in the condensation on your mirror. they’re tokens of his affection, his way of reminding you that you’re not alone, even when he can’t be seen.

despite his protectiveness, he’s painfully aware of his limitations. his incorporeal form frustrates him to no end—he longs to touch you, to hold you, to feel the warmth of your hand in his, but the barrier between life and death is unyielding. he spends countless hours watching you, reaching out with ghostly fingers that pass through you, yearning for a connection he can never truly have.

he’s haunted by the memory of what it felt like to be alive, to love and be loved in return. his obsession with you is his only solace in a world of emptiness, but it also drives him to desperation. he begins searching for ways to bridge the gap between your worlds, delving into the supernatural, seeking answers, rituals, or bargains that might bring him closer to you.

when you acknowledge him, even in the smallest ways, it’s everything to him. a whispered “thank you” when you notice the flower he left, a hesitant glance toward the flickering light he caused—it fills him with a joy so profound it nearly breaks him. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are the only proof that he still exists to you.

his love is all-consuming, a desperate and eternal yearning that leaves no room for anything else. he doesn’t just want to protect you; he wants to be with you, to share in your life, to have a place in your heart. he knows his love is overwhelming, even suffocating, but he can’t stop. you’re his reason for lingering in this world, the one thing that makes his cursed existence bearable.

in his more vulnerable moments, he confesses his feelings, his voice trembling with a sorrow that spans lifetimes. "i’m sorry," he whispers, his spectral form flickering like a dying flame. "i didn’t mean for this to happen. but i can’t let go. i won’t." his words are both a plea and a promise, a declaration of a love that will haunt you forever.

his devotion is eternal, unyielding, and consuming. he doesn’t see his obsession as wrong; to him, it’s the purest form of love, a connection that transcends life and death. and though his presence may sometimes frighten you, you can’t deny the strange comfort it brings, the knowledge that someone—something—is always watching over you. he is yours, now and forever, and nothing, not even death, will change that.

you are his reason for lingering in this world, his obsession, his eternity.

alaric drifts soundlessly through the walls, his form a faint shimmer of light that barely disturbs the air

"you called for me," he whispers, his voice like the rustle of leaves on a quiet night. he hovers just out of reach, his longing evident in the way he watches you with those hollow, mournful eyes

every creak of the floorboards, every cool breeze brushing your skin—it’s alaric, a constant, invisible guardian, desperate for you to feel his presence.

the demon

with horns curling from his head, molten eyes, and a smirk that could tempt even the purest soul, the demon is as charming as he is dangerous. he first appeared to you when you were at your lowest, offering power and protection—but only if you stayed by his side.

azrael is striking in his infernal elegance, his beauty sharp and dangerous like a blade. his obsidian horns curl menacingly from his head, gleaming faintly in the firelight, and his jet-black hair is cropped just enough to frame his angular face.

his glowing amber eyes burn with an intensity that’s both mesmerizing and terrifying, framed by dark lashes that soften their predatory edge. his physique is perfectly sculpted, with broad shoulders and sinewy muscle wrapped in dark tattoos that pulse faintly with infernal energy.

a long, spaded tail flicks behind him, a subtle testament to his demonic nature, while his sharp, claw-like fingers could destroy—or cradle.

he infiltrates your dreams, filling them with his voice and his image so that you can never forget him. no matter how far you try to run, he’s always there, whispering promises of eternal love.

the demon doesn’t share. he’ll make deals or threats to ensure no one else dares approach you. his flames flare dangerously when he senses competition.

when you challenge his overbearing nature, he’s secretly thrilled. Your fiery defiance makes him want you even more. but when you show fear or sadness, he’s quick to reassure you with surprising tenderness.

the demon is a dangerous enigma, a being forged in fire and darkness who is utterly captivated by you. his obsession burns hotter than the flames of his infernal home, an all-consuming desire that transcends mortal understanding.

he’s not a creature of softness or restraint—his love is raw, primal, and possessive, and he would raze the world to ash if it meant keeping you by his side.

he first noticed you in a moment of vulnerability, a flicker of something pure and radiant that pierced through his otherwise unrelenting darkness. maybe it was your kindness, your resilience, or even your imperfections—whatever it was, it stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in centuries.

for a demon who thrives on power and domination, this feeling was alien, unsettling, and exhilarating.

at first, he tried to ignore it. love, after all, is a weakness—a chain that binds. but the more he watched you, the deeper he sank. you consumed his thoughts, invaded his dreams, and stirred emotions he didn’t even know he was capable of. the line between fascination and obsession blurred, and before long, you became the center of his world, his greatest desire and his ultimate possession.

his presence is overwhelming, even when he isn’t visible. the air grows heavy when he’s near, crackling with an unnatural energy that makes your skin tingle. shadows twist and writhe in the corners of your vision, and faint whispers echo in your mind, promises of devotion spoken in a voice as smooth as velvet.

he’s not above manipulating your emotions to keep you close. he knows exactly how to twist words, how to play on your fears and insecurities, all while making it seem like he’s your only sanctuary. "no one will love you the way i do," he purrs, his voice a blend of seduction and menace. "no one will protect you like i can."

jealousy consumes him with a ferocity that borders on madness. he doesn’t tolerate anyone vying for your attention or affection. if someone dares to come too close, they often meet with mysterious misfortunes—car accidents, sudden illnesses, or even inexplicable disappearances. he doesn’t see these acts as cruel; in his mind, he’s simply ensuring that no one can take you from him.

despite his darkness, his love for you is genuine in its own twisted way. he’s incapable of expressing it in soft or traditional ways, but his devotion is absolute.

he treasures every interaction with you, every fleeting smile, every word you speak to him. he hoards these moments like a dragon hoards gold, replaying them endlessly in his mind.

he’s endlessly fascinated by your humanity—the way your emotions shift like the tides, the fragility of your body, the warmth of your skin. he often marvels at how delicate you are compared to him, a creature of immense power and near-immortality. this contrast only deepens his obsession; you’re a treasure, a rare and precious thing in a world of chaos and darkness.

when he does reveal himself to you, it’s always dramatic and intentional. he thrives on your reactions, whether it’s fear, awe, or even anger. he’ll step out from the shadows, his horns catching the dim light, his dark eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "you belong to me," he’ll say, his voice leaving no room for argument. it’s not a question, not a plea—it’s a declaration, an unshakable truth in his mind.

he uses his demonic powers to bind himself to you in ways both subtle and overt. you might find strange symbols etched into the corners of your room, or feel an inexplicable pull toward him that you can’t resist. he’s always there, in your dreams, in your thoughts, in the very fabric of your reality.

but for all his power and confidence, there’s a vulnerability beneath his fiery exterior. he’s terrified of losing you, of you rejecting him or finding someone else.

it’s a fear he doesn’t understand, one that gnaws at him and drives him to even greater extremes. he’ll do anything to keep you, even if it means breaking every rule, defying the laws of heaven and hell, and binding your soul to his for eternity.

in his own way, he tries to be gentle with you. he knows his nature frightens you, that his obsession can be overwhelming, so he tempers his intensity—at least, as much as a demon is capable of. he’ll appear to you in dreams, his voice soft, his touch feather-light, weaving fantasies of a life where you’re his and his alone.

but make no mistake—his love is as dangerous as it is consuming. he doesn’t see you as a partner, but as something to be claimed, protected, and possessed. you’re his light in the darkness, his one weakness, and he would destroy anyone—or anything—that threatens to take you from him.

"i’ll burn this world to the ground for you," he tells you, his voice a low growl, his eyes glowing with an intensity that’s equal parts terrifying and mesmerizing. "just say the word."

to him, you’re not just his obsession—you’re his salvation, the one thing that makes his existence bearable. his love is eternal, fierce, and utterly inescapable, binding you to him in ways you might never fully understand. you are his everything, and he will stop at nothing to make sure you remain his. forever.

azrael appears in a flicker of shadows and embers, his smirk sharp enough to cut

"did you miss me?" he purrs, his voice dripping with sinful charm. his burning gaze never leaves yours, an intensity that feels like it could consume your very soul

when he steps closer, the scent of smoke and spice fills the air, and the room grows impossibly warm

"you can’t escape me, little one," he murmurs, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

the sea monster

a towering creature with scales that shimmer in the moonlight and eyes as deep as the ocean, the sea monster saved you from drowning during a storm. since then, he’s watched you from the water’s edge, longing to pull you into his world.

his body a perfect blend of human and sea creature. his skin shimmers with an iridescent sheen, scales glinting faintly with hues of green, blue, and silver that shift like sunlight on water. his long, flowing hair resembles seaweed, dark and sleek, cascading down his back in waves.

his eyes glow faintly, like bioluminescent creatures of the deep, their piercing intensity revealing his ancient power. his hands are webbed and tipped with sharp, claw-like nails, and his muscular frame is marked with jagged scars from battles in the ocean’s depths. his lower half bears fins that ripple with movement, giving him a grace that belies his massive size.

he collects things you’ve touched—seashells, pieces of cloth, even footprints in the sand. his underwater lair is filled with these treasures, each arranged like a shrine.

he hates when you leave the shore. If you venture too far inland, he’ll create storms or tidal waves to draw you back to him.

he becomes surprisingly bashful when you willingly approach the water to speak to him. your trust in him, despite his monstrous appearance, makes his heart swell.

the sea monster is an ancient being, born of the ocean’s depths, where sunlight never reaches. his obsession with you is as vast and unfathomable as the waters he calls home—a love born of isolation, mystery, and an insatiable hunger for connection. to him, you are his beacon, a rare and precious light in the endless darkness of his world, and he is utterly captivated by you.

his first encounter with you was serendipitous—a chance meeting by the shore, or perhaps a daring moment when you ventured too close to the water’s edge. he saw you, a fragile creature of the land, and was instantly enthralled.

your movements, your laughter, even the way the sunlight caught in your hair—all of it was alien and beautiful to him. from that moment, you became his fixation, his reason to rise from the depths.

he watches you from the water, his massive form concealed beneath the waves, his glowing eyes ever watchful. at first, his presence is subtle—the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, the inexplicable pull of the tide whenever you’re near.

but as his obsession deepens, his signs become harder to ignore. strange treasures wash ashore: seashells, polished stones, and other trinkets that seem too deliberately placed to be coincidences.

he is a creature of contradictions. his love for you is as tender as it is overwhelming, and while he longs to be near you, he’s painfully aware of his monstrous appearance. his body is a fusion of scales, fins, and sinewy muscle, a form designed to survive in the crushing pressure of the deep sea. he fears your rejection, that you will see him as a monster rather than the devoted being he has become.

despite this, he can’t help but draw closer. when you venture into the water, he’s there, just beneath the surface, his presence a dark shadow that follows you. he revels in these moments, the closeness, the illusion that he’s part of your world. the saltwater clings to your skin, and it drives him mad with desire—it’s as though the ocean itself is marking you as his.

his jealousy is as fierce as a storm at sea. anyone who dares to draw too near to you risks his wrath. fishermen speak of sudden squalls that rise from nowhere, boats overturned by unseen forces, and sailors vanishing into the depths. he doesn’t see it as cruelty; to him, it’s protection. the ocean is his domain, and no one else has the right to take what belongs to him.

he dreams of pulling you into his world, of making you his in every way. the thought of you joining him beneath the waves consumes him, and he begins to weave fantasies of a life together in the depths—a palace of coral and bioluminescent light, where you would be his queen, his eternal companion.

but he knows it’s impossible, and this knowledge torments him. he can’t survive on land for long, and you can’t live beneath the water. this barrier between your worlds drives him to desperation. he begins seeking forbidden rituals and ancient magic, anything that might allow him to bridge the gap and bring you into his realm—or transform himself into something that can walk beside you on the shore.

when he speaks, his voice is a low, resonant rumble, like the distant crash of waves on a rocky shore. his words are filled with longing and reverence, a declaration of a love that spans the vastness of the ocean. "you are my light," he murmurs, his glowing eyes fixed on you. "without you, i am nothing but the endless dark."

his love is consuming, a tidal wave that sweeps away everything in its path. he doesn’t understand restraint or boundaries; to him, love is absolute, and his devotion to you is all-encompassing. he sees your hesitations, your fears, but he can’t stop himself. you are the first thing in centuries to stir his cold, ancient heart, and he will not let you go.

when you acknowledge his presence, even in the smallest ways—a whispered word to the sea, a touch to one of the treasures he’s left for you—his heart swells with a joy so profound it’s almost painful. he clings to these moments, replaying them in his mind during the long hours when he’s alone in the depths, waiting for the chance to see you again.

his protectiveness is as fierce as his love. the ocean itself seems to bend to his will, rising to shield you from harm. storms part in your wake, currents carry you safely to shore, and even the most fearsome predators of the deep seem to bow before you. you are his everything, and he will guard you with a ferocity that defies nature itself.

but there’s a darkness to his love, a possessiveness that borders on madness. he doesn’t just want you to love him; he wants you to need him, to see him as the only one who can protect and cherish you. "the land will never understand you as i do," he tells you, his voice a low growl, the waves crashing behind him. "they will never love you as i do."

his obsession is eternal, as deep and unyielding as the ocean itself. you are his heart, his treasure, his reason for rising to the surface. and though his love may be overwhelming, even frightening, there’s a strange beauty in it—a devotion so pure and unshakable that it defies the boundaries of worlds. you are his, now and always, and he will never let the tide carry you away.

mio watches from the waves, his body a dark silhouette against the moonlit water. when you finally meet his gaze, he speaks your name like it’s a prayer, his voice low and reverent

"you don’t belong to the land," he says, his tone both pleading and possessive. "the ocean calls to you. i call to you.

his fingers trail through the water, creating ripples that mirror the emotions surging in his chest—desire, devotion, and an unshakable determination to make you his.

while each monster is fiercely possessive, they begrudgingly tolerate each other’s presence because they all agree on one thing: your happiness comes first.

you’re not just a human to them—you’re their everything. whether you accept their twisted love or try to escape, one thing is certain: they’ll never let you go. you’ve awakened something primal and eternal in their hearts, and no force on earth or beyond could sever the bonds they’ve forged with you.

#yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #vampire x reader #werewolf x reader #ghost x reader #demon x reader #sea monster x reader

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thrashkink-coven · 4 months ago

Text

Things for beginners to know before starting demonolatry or demonology practices

1. The classifications of demons were written by humans, not demons.

Different occult schools of thought will have different understandings of the Hierarchies of Hell, whether Hell even exists, and what attributes are associated with each demon. In some sects Lucifer reigns supreme Emperor of Hell, in others it is Sammael, Moloch, or Baal. It all depends on the perspective of the practitioner. All of these models are equally correct and incorrect. Documentation of de(a)mons were often written by right hand practitioners who saw them as evil, therefore their negative attitudes are emphasized. Other times devotees have documented the same entity as being very kind and affectionate. It is incredibly important to take into account who is speaking whenever you read about demons. No single book or author can deliver to you the most **objective** facts about these demons or the model of reality, if they claim to, they’re lying to you. You as the practitioner must discover and decide what reins true in your reality. Teachers and gurus may influence you but ultimately you must make the decision for yourself.

2. Assume all spirits are multi dimensional

Lucifer, the light bringer, is also the spirit of darkness. He is the sweet prince and the adversary, he is a devil and an angel. It is extremely rare that you will encounter a spirit that is only one thing. There is a little bit of truth to everyone’s interactions. To a Luciferian, Lucifer is a guide, a companion, and a positive presence. To a Christian he is an adversary, a tempter, liar and bringer of evil ; and there is an entire rainbow of other experiences that contribute to the understanding of “Lucifer”. Demons are not all good nor are they all bad, trying to paint them in only one light will only lead to disappointment and confusion. It is just as foolish to assume that a so called angel will always be pleasant and nice, as it is to assume a so called demon will be terrible and mean. Every energy interacts with every person uniquely.

3. Scary and intimidating doesn’t automatically mean “evil”

Nice and pleasing doesn’t automatically mean “good”

If you’re interacting with demons or spirits associated with death, it shouldn’t be very surprising that they’re dark, mysterious, or have a frightening appearance. If you’re dealing with demons or spirits of sex and lust, it shouldn’t be very surprising that they’re alluring, attractive, or beautiful. This doesn’t mean that the scary demon is going to kill you, and this doesn’t mean that the sexy demon is going to fuck you. There are very likely going to be times when your demons will scare you. This doesn’t mean that they’re going to hurt you or possess you (they shouldn’t be frightening you to the point of constant paranoia, but seeing some “disturbing” or strange imagery isn’t out of the norm when you’re contacting a de(a)mon).

If you enter a deep dark cave looking for a bear, don’t be surprised when you see sharp teeth. Demons of violence may summon gory imagery. Demons of death my feel cold and distant. A large part of demonolatry is understanding your fear and overcoming it.

4. Yeah, it’s intense.

Okay. This is hard for me to explain. Infernal spirits and angels alike are entities that force you to confront your innermost self and change. It’s not always spooky and scary and whimsical. Sometimes it’s losing your dead end job, having a serious breakup, losing toxic friends, or having a personal epiphany. When I say it’s intense, I don’t mean that I’m levitating and seeing gnarly gory shit and summoning demons while covered in blood all the time. I have dreams and experiences of course, but seeing a demon work is not about the theatrics. Are you ready to confront the things you rrrrreeaaaaalllly don’t want to think about? Your trauma, the lies you tell yourself to get through the day, and the toxic cycles you comfort yourself with?

Lord Lucifer has made me cry many MANY times. But it was never because he hurt or scared me. I’ve seen many demonolaters refer to Lucifer as a therapist and I couldn’t agree more. He not only changes your understanding of yourself, but others and the world. Through this understanding you can change yourself, and others, and the world.

5. You as the practitioner need to be able to withstand the symptoms of your demonic relationships

Being in a relationship with Lilith or Asmoday is not an excuse to develop a porn addiction. Being in a relationship with Lucifer does not give you the right to psychoanalyze all of your friends, being in a relationship with Eligos is not an excuse to destroy all of your relationships or be cruel towards others. Demons represent energies and concepts that are unfavourable to the masses. When working with Astaroth I will feel more lustful, just by being in her proximity. That is not justification to cheat on my partner or force myself onto him. As much as demons like Lucifer for example can inspire us to be wise and sharp, he can also influence us to be vein and narcissistic. We must always be aware of these effects and resist them, working with demons and shadows does not mean becoming the worst version of ourselves, quite the contrary. Interacting with these negative aspects is meant to show you how to overcome them.

6. Demons cannot and will not replace your relationships with humans

I am very pro godspousing and having friendly and affectionate relationships with demons and spirits. Having said that, as much as our spirits may love us and care for us, they will not be the ones to text you good morning. They will not make you soup when you’re sick, or buy you flowers after a hard day. Demons are guides and companions, but they are not people. Trying to use demons to solve your loneliness will only lead to heart ache. You very much can have a sincere relationship with a demon or other spirit, but be aware that that relationship will not mimic your relationships with humans, and it shouldn’t. Gods and demons are not humans, therefore your relationships with them will not feel human.

7. There’s always more to learn

Devotion to any spirit is an endeavour that can take years or even a lifetime. Your work is not done because you read 3 books and browsed the Occult Wiki for an hour and a half. Become very dedicated to learning about your demons of interest and the culture that surrounds them. Yes, this means boring, tedious research.

8. No, ______ is not mad at you. Please talk to them

You will at some point inevitably do something wrong, especially if you are freshly initiated. Demons understand that we are human, we make mistakes. Instead of becoming paranoid and avoiding your demon out of fear of consequences, put on your big boy pants and confront them directly. Understand what you did wrong and learn from your mistake. There may or may not be consequences, every demon is different. But making yourself sick thinking they’re going to smite you down doesn’t make anything better. I guarantee you that talking to them about it will serve you a million times better than running away.

9. You need to know your boundaries BEFORE you reach out

As important as it is to research your demons, it is equally important to research yourself. You need to have strict boundaries that you will not negotiate. These boundaries should be outlined in your contract if you have one. If blood magic is uncomfortable for you, don’t allow any demon or spirit to coerce you into giving it until you are ready. If you’re a minor you’re more than allowed to not do sex magic. This relationship belongs to you as much as it does your demon(s). If it doesn’t serve you, simply refuse it.

10. On that note, demons can and will reject you. You can and will reject them as well.

On many occasions I have approached spirits who did not want to work with me at the moment. Sometimes they end up showing up later in my life, other times they never do. Oftentimes this is because of an incongruency on an alchemical level, we just aren’t meant for each other. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re doing anything wrong. Sometimes you are, but your demon or deity will usually make that clear to you in some way. Don’t force it. If I’m already terribly preoccupied with life or other spiritual relationships, I’m within my right to reject another demon trying to enter my circle. That isn’t a rude thing to do. I’m within my right to deny a ritual I don’t have the energy or resources for. We can put it on the back burner for now.

Likewise, if a demon or spirit is repeatedly overstepping my boundaries or harming me in any way, I can (and should) leave that demon. If I’m not doing enough or causing insult, that demon can leave me. As binding as devotional contracts can be, we are not trapped with each other if we choose not to be.

11. Protection shouldn’t only be against spirits. Be very aware of your surroundings and the people around you

Learn the power of secrecy. As a Luciferian living in an extremely conservative area, I have to be extremely careful about when my pendants are visible. I have to be careful when entering certain places because I don’t want to be hate crimed or harassed. Yes, being out and proud of my demonic relationships is very important to me, but it is not worth risking real danger from bigots, or risking my employment. When I go to work, I have to leave my Lucifer ring at home, not because my work is discriminatory, but because I don’t know when I’m speaking to a christofascist grandma who would make a complaint to my boss because she saw my devotional ring. I don’t know which of my coworkers would make my life more difficult if they knew about my practice. If you are visible, people will approach you and make comments. Now, there are those of us who don’t give a fuck, and on most days I don’t. But for those of us who are vulnerable to that kind of discrimination, please be aware.

12. Self mutilation is not demonolatry

If you choose to offer blood it should be no more than a few drops. You should be using safe tools like a lancet, and disinfecting the area you extract from. This should be done in the least harmful manner possible. Devotional markings or tattoos should be done by a professional.

13. This stuff takes time. Relax

These relationships don’t develop in 24 hours. It takes a tremendous amount of repeated effort to gain the favour of a demon or spirit. If you’re not getting the results you want, take a break, reevaluate your methods, and try again later.

#demonolatry #demonology #luciferism #luciferian #luciferian witch #theistic luciferianism #lord lucifer #lucifer devotee #lucifer #goetia #goetic demons #demons #pagan #paganism #witchcraft #magick #occultism #grimoire #beginner witch

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bouquetface · 8 months ago

Text

Synastry observations 4

Accuracy influenced by the ENTIRE chart.

PLEASE READ: You may not relate despite having these aspects. It’s important to look at the ENTIRE chart (never just one placement) when reading for accuracy. There are several ways these aspects can manifest.

Moon Conjunct Venus

Intuitive understanding of the other’s emotions. Being in tune with each other. Finding support from one another. Feeling seen, supported & understood. This conjunction can keep bringing the two back together. I’ve also noticed with this conjunction, you create/have many comforting memories together. One may think of the other randomly as memories&thoughts of the other are triggered throughout a normal week.

This placement can make on sentimental & nostalgic. This connection breaking up, is a hellish experience. It’s difficult to not remember the other.

Moon conjunct Mars

In friendships, I’ve noticed the Mars person be very encouraging and supportive of the Moon. For ex: Tell/encourage them to try out for big roles. Mars can help build up confidence for the Moon.

The negative is Mars can (purposefully or accidentally) hurt Moon just as easy as they can build them up. Full chart needs to be taken into consideration.

In relationships, this can create extreme attraction. The two can be quick to act on it as well. For ex: My friend who had a kid young has this with her baby’s dad. They didn’t know each other for too long before having the kid.

Chiron conjunct Sun

Sun can unintentionally shine a light on the other person’s deepest wound. This can be good or bad depending on whether the chiron person is ready to face their past pain. Often, I read this is a red flag in synastry. In my real life, this hasn’t shown true.

In my real life, I’ve seen this twice manifest as the chiron and sun person having a sorta unspoken understanding of one another.

Ex.1: Person A has a chiron cap in 4th House. This person felt like asking their parents for anything was a burden to them. Whether it be an emotional need or a physical want. They were lonely in childhood.

Person B has a cap sun. As the eldest child, they had a similar experience. They would help care for their younger siblings. Attempt to minimize their own needs & wants because they could see how hard it was for their mom to raise the 3 younger kids. They always put their own self last.

Together, Person A and Person B have realized they have similar traits. They admire and respect these traits in each other.

Ex 2. It’s pretty much the same as example one. However, might be due to the age difference but the chiron person admires the sun person. The sun person naturally displays the traits, the chiron person feels necessary to thrive.

The negatives are the hurting each other without fully realizing it. The sun person could sub consciously remind the chiron of their past.

For ex: A Virgo sun’s analytical nature could be perceived as unnecessary criticism to the virgo chiron. The virgo chiron may then begin to dislike the sun as they are reminded of people they don’t like/who hurt them in the past.

Now keep in mind, chiron stays in a sign for 4ish years. You won’t like or dislike every chiron born in those 4 years. This aspect isn’t a main one to be looking at imo unless it is very closely conjunct.

Moon conjunct Mercury

3 times I’ve noticed this creates an awkward beginning but a good long term friendship. It might because it was in earth signs, they tend to be reserved before opening up. Gradually, a good emotional foundation is created. The two understand each other. It’s always easy to catch up even if you take a pause. This is such a good aspect that I see it helps overcome harsher aspects in synastry.

Composite Chart

Aqua Moon: A distance can be kept in the connection. You two may have many placements in your natal chart that indicate you do not open up easily (Cap chiron, Scorpio Venus, 8th H placements, etc). Regardless of how close you get, both may try to remain a bit reserved to prevent being entirely vulnerable to the other. This isn’t necessarily a negative.

Moon in 4th House: A secure connection. Great foundation if you want to build something together (a business, a family). Long term connection indicator. You may find each other reliable. You know what to expect with the other.

Venus conjunct Mars: This would be a difficult connection to move away from. Their is attraction that keeps you two together / coming back together. This is not necessarily sexual. For example, if you have this in a friendship, you two simply have too much history to ever truly forget this person. The connection only grows over time. One cannot replace the other. You two have affected each other’s personalities in a big way. This can be good or bad.

For example, in the 12th House. I’ve seen this as a relationship that fell out. One can go long periods without ever thinking of the other. Yet, the impact they had remains. This person is suspicious and cautious of letting new people entier their lives. Trust issues were created in that connection.

Mars conjunct MC

I’ve seen this manifest in a friendship that fell out. Outsiders who know of the other, know they do not like that other person. Your conflicts can become public with this conjunction.

Venus opposite Mercury

This can make communication very difficult. It can lead to a difference in communication style. For ex: One person is very blunt, the other is very soft spoken & sensitive. You hurt each other with your words even when you don’t mean it.

I’ve seen a chart where Venus was in 12th opposite Mercury. This resulted in one party getting ghosted & blocked.

Moon in 5th House:

A fun connection. You can joke with each other. You can be spontaneous when together. This is a positive placement.

The potential negative is this may become your “remember friend”. You go to each other for nostalgic purposes. Like remember when we____. Repeating old inside jokes. A playful friendship. Prone to avoid serious conversation. This isn’t really negative if you both do not want more from one another. Other placements in the chart can change this as well. You may have the ability to be serious but prefer the joking nature of the connection.

Moon in 7th House:

You two simply make good partners. Ex: Business partners, cooking partners, group project partners, etc. There can be a shared understanding of what is fair and what is right. Only negative is that you should be aware of co dependency issues.

7th House ruler in 12th House:

Twice, I’ve seen this appear as other people being the cause of the connection ending. In one situation, it was emotional cheating. This person got exposed for having very inappropriate conversations with someone else. The second situation, one friend was talking shit & revealing secrets about the other. They were exposed by a mutual friend. In both these situations, the other person was so furious they did not give a clear reason for why they were leaving. They simply left ghosted and blocked.

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jojoboisimagines · 1 month ago

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Jojos react to you accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

Jojos (1-7) react to accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

.::.

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan, surprisingly, isn't completely made of brick and instantly grips his nose after you strike it rather hard.

Once you apologize over and over, he lets out a strained chuckle, not wanting to worry you even longer despite it still hurting.

"beloved, you sure have a hand on you..."

He laughs, regarding of the ache that made his head spin for a moment.

"Hang tight Jojo, I'm getting some cream!" You quickly dash off.

"wait, darling, its not that bad-" Before he finishes, you had already left to get something to ease the pain

It was gone in a couple of minutes, he was a tough guy..but perhaps play hitting is off the table for a while-

Joseph Joestar

"Owowowow---did you do that on purpose??"

He's quick to accuse. It probably wouldn't be the first time you wanted to hit him for real, but this time was an honest mistake.

"no Jojo, it was just an accident!" you swear up and down, but it takes a bit before he actually believes you.

Eventually he leaves to get an icepack for his nose before Lisa Lisa or someone else sees, which would be infinitely more embarrassing.

"maybe we should just stick to tickling or something.." He mutters in a defeated manner, holding the ice up to soothe the ache.

it was admiteddly a little funny, but for the sake of him not staying mad at you, you'll withhold your laughter for now.

"I want compensation for my beautiful eye!" He holds out his hand, expecting something.

"wh--I said i was sorry! I'll get it later!"

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro lets out a pained hiss, facepalming as he needed a minute.

Concern quickly overcomes you and you pull his hand away to make sure there was no mark or anything broken.

"Lets stop." He's no longer in the mood for play fighting--if anything he thought it was a bad idea in the first place in fear of him hurting you--when it turned out being the other way around.

You feel awful for punching him that hard on accident, especially since you knew he was probably upset or wanted to pretend he isn't hurt.

"I'm sorry, Jotaro.." Putting a comforting hand on his arm, you lean over to look at his face that had been turned from you.

"it was just a punch, i've had worse." He was right on that front, but a punch is a punch.

"alright tough guy, but at least tell me when something hurts.." You put a bag of ice on it, making him wince.

"was it not obvious-" he argues.

That was enough to make you scoff in both humor and disbelief.

Josuke Higashikata

"Oi Timeout timeout!"

Josuke makes the T gesture with his hand and heaves, now hunching over with his hands on his knees.

"..Josuke? You good?" You lean over his crouched form, not realizing how strong the impact on his face was.

"im..i'm good, just give me a minute-" he bluffs, clearly being out of breath. You didn't believe it for a second. He never was that good of a liar, to you at least.

Ignoring his protests, you go and get the first aid kit in his house's closet, coming back with some ointment and a bandaid

"There, now you look like more of a delinquint at least!~" you smile after placing it across his nose.

"True but...lets just not tell anyone this came from you punching me in the face, alright?"

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno has a...delayed reaction for lack of a better term. He certainly stops hitting and stumbles, but it takes him a moment to actually register that what he's feeling in his cheeks is actual pain

To spare your feelings, he'll act like it didn't hurt as much as it did, only rubbing the spot a bit and standing normally again.

"..giorno? You good?" you eventually ask, since he isn't really giving any hints as to why he went silent.

"i'm fine, dearest." Giorno is actually pretty good at playing it off, but you could tell his tone sounded a bit different

He likely isn't going to admit that it hurt, so you have to make the call to stop roughhousing. It wasn't worth it to mess up his pretty face.

You'll just...subtly get him some ice cream as an apology

Jolyne Kujo

"oW! you dick!"

Jolyne punches back twice as hard, which probably wasn't the best thing to do in this situation, but she's been roughhoused enough times in her life-

Now both of you were hurting, holding your heads in pain.

"j-Jolyne, did i hurt you?"

"Yeah! I said ow, didn't I?" She snaps back, rubbing her cheek.

She won't hold it against you for long, but you figure you should buy her a snack or something to 'regain her trust' again

"..need me to kiss it better?" You suggest, both as a tease and honestly.

Jolyne's eyes dart around...well, there was no one around to see, so maybe just this once. "..fine.." She unfolds her arms, scooting towards you.

Johnny Joestar

"Okay Okay I get it!-"

Johnny puts both of his hands up to shield his face from your assualt, and for a moment you think he's joking, before a whole minute goes by with him like that and not saying anything.

"..hey, Johnny, let me see..." Your hand gently coasts over his, slowly pulling it away.

His face was super red. Tears were partially visible at the corners of her eyes.

it was almost humorous, as it usually is when his face reddens, but he was also in pain

"do you need something? I can get a bandage." You suggest, not knowing where you hit to cause that reaction

"i need you to stop hitting me that hard, goddam-"

he was only making it harder not to laugh, but you were truly sorry and will treat him to coffee to make his pout go away

#jjba x reader #jojo #jojo imagines #johnny joestar x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #josuke x reader #jolyne cujoh #jolyne x reader #joseph joestar x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #jjba

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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 7 months ago

Note

Looks like requests are open. Mind if I send one in?

Scenario: Their presence felt comforting to you despite everything that went down. You felt safe to open up about your insecurities to them also. Arguments are an inevitable part of any relationship, but this argument was probably the worst one you've had by far. In the heat of the argument they insult you on the very things you're insecure about. And your reaction to that was a tearful "Thanks for basically confirming that I really can't trust anybody."

How would Vil, Riddle, Jamil, and Azul react to this?

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, a man who was careful about allowing his weaknesses to see the light of day, knew he had taken advantage of your trust. It was only natural for him, a born businessman who had started from the bottom and was now securely at the top, to use every bit of information he had on you to prove a point; to get the upper hand in an argument that truly didn’t matter. He had always fought to change his ways, to have his defenses up constantly, to not have his heart protected by reinforced walls, but it felt like an impossible task for someone like him.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil was the king of self-sabotage. At certain points it seemed he created his own obstacles, tossing them in the path of your blossoming relationship and becoming frustrated when it took even more effort to remove them. He tended to avoid arguments as much as he could but there were times, especially when he was in a foul mood, where he couldn’t help but feel the spark of anger and take it out on you. You can’t say you’d ever expected to hear such horrible things from him, the attack so direct it was unmistakable that he was trying to hurt you beyond recognition. You wondered if the relationship would even be salvageable after this as it wasn’t the first time Jamil had tested your trust, and even as he looked full of regret he bit his tongue, creating yet another hurdle that may truly be impossible to overcome this time.

Riddle Rosehearts:

It’s all Riddle’s ever known. It was like falling back on an old habit you thought you kicked, filling him with guilt, embarrassment, and every horrifying emotion in between. It made him sick to his stomach to think that he was becoming his mother, the woman he had admired for so long before realizing the methods she used were cruel and unfair to him. He didn’t want to be her but it seemed a piece of her remained within him, not sure how to apologize to you if you could even forgive him for his harsh words. He valued your trust more than anything and it was an admitted weakness on his part that his temper got the better of him, but he had only said those things to hurt you in the way he was hurting, not meaning a bit of what he said.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil was normally level-headed, with many of your arguments handled in a mature manner that left no open-ended questions. He disliked fighting but he there are some things he can’t help but get irritated over, and it can be difficult to rise to his standards at times. It almost felt like he was keeping a tally of every time you messed up or upset him as he had examples on hand to bring up, thoroughly ‘winning’ the argument to the detriment of your relationship. You had always worried you weren’t enough for him and words from his own mouth seemed to be prove that was the case, leaving you to shakily pack your things as you needed time away from him. If it proved a better existence, you couldn’t say you’d ever come back, a fear Vil had to live with as you refused to respond to his texts or calls while you gathered your thoughts.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Jamil Viper #Riddle Rosehearts #Vil Schoenheit #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Jamil Viper x Reader #Riddle Rosehearts x Reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader

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simonbrain · 2 months ago

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Hey friend. I've put off this ask a little while, because I'm sure you're tired of getting it by now, but... are there any updates on the neglected! reader (a/b/o)? I really liked that one, and though I have no issues with the second part not being done yet, a little progress update (if you want to add one) would be very cool! Thanks for writing :)

ugh i know i've been putting it off for a long time but i haven't abandoned it guys! just feeling very stuck with where the narrative is sitting rn 🥲 however, here's a little tease of the beginning of part two, keep in mind it may not be written exactly like this when i post it:

"what?" kyle mumbles, rising from john's lap to grapple with the sudden coldness that overcomes him. no one else says anything, but you can see how your words affect the rest of them: john stiffens in his seat, simon's dismissive glance has turned into a burning glare, and johnny's hand has slipped from where it was resting on his captain's shoulder, a look of confusion and panic twisting on his face.

your anxiety may have dissipated, but that doesn't make this any easier. the air feels too tense, too uncomfortable. you don't like how agitated everyone's scents became the moment you walked in, and it hurts even more knowing they didn't even try to hide it. you don't like seeing them all together here like this. you don't like that you're believing that spiteful little voice in the back of your mind jeering at you that they've been planning your departure, planning how to break the news to you that you're not worth the hassle anymore.

it only makes sense why they're all cooped up in john's office, whispering amongst themselves.

"darling, what are you talking about?" john's voice cuts through your thoughts, but you try not to find comfort in it. he stands from his seat, and you try not to reveal how much you've missed his scent despite how thick it is with stress. your omega has been quiet for a while, but now that you're gathered in one place like this, she's getting restless, simultaneously wanting to hiss at them and cling to anyone who will spare a scrap of affection.

"please, captain, just do it. i don't want to be a burden any longer." you'll beg if that's what it takes; you'll get on your knees and clasp your hands together if it means saving them from unnecessary stress and annoyance and you from further heartbreak.

the earnestness in your voice is so strong it bites at them because how could you even suggest something like that? how could they even consider their pack whole if you're not there?

but hearing his rank fall from your lips leaves a bitter taste in john's mouth and a knot forming in his stomach. it's unnatural to hear you call him that while sounding so defeated and miserable. it's scary to feel so out of control when he's supposed to be your captain, your head alpha.

to know he's let you down so much makes his alpha growl pathetically in shame; how can he even consider himself a leader?

#this is short i know #ugh i wish i could just rewrite everything and save everyone the misery 😔#inbox 𐙚 #rainbles 𐙚

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wildsaltair · 4 months ago

Text

Tender Fires

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, with a few hints of spice)

Word Count: 6.4k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: I'm back with another Maximus fic! This is actually part of a larger narrative in which Maximus escapes the execution attempt and ends up at reader's farm, where she tends his wounds and they fall in love but have to fight their feelings because he intends to leave to keep her safe. As always, this fic is written from the deepest longings of my lovestruck heart, and I hope that love is obvious :) Thank y'all so much for your kind words about the last fic, and I hope you enjoy this one!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You’re up late.”

At your words, Maximus turns his head to look at you, and a soft smile crosses his lips. His features are etched in shadow, flickering with the dancing firelight.

He’s seated in front of your kitchen fire, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, gazing deep into the flames as if searching for some hidden meaning within. You would never have known he was in here if you had not been awakened by the loud cracks of thunder outside and come in search of the warmth of the fire.

An autumn storm, a midnight fire, and the most captivating man you have ever known, dressed only in his plain white sleeping tunic. It seems like a combination intended to lure you into trouble.

As you move to sit in the chair beside him, he looks back into the hearth, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. “I have stayed awake staring at many fires in my life,” he tells you quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful.

Out of the corner of your eye, you risk a glance at him, looking for the scar on his ribs. He has been with you for a little more than two weeks now, helping you with odd jobs around the farm as his strength returns. His wounds, though still vulnerable, have healed quickly, and you are relieved to see no signs of further injury on the parts of his skin that you can see.

“As have I,” you reply, eyes still lingering on him. “Though for me, it has always been the same fire. This one.”

He hums in response, nodding slightly. You have never sat by this fire together at night, and you are bewitched by the way the light dances over him, makes his golden skin shimmer. The lines of his arms and shoulders are limned in shadow, the firelight flickering on his handsome features.

You are overcome with a desire to put your hands on him, to feel the heat of his skin and the strength of his body, but you cast your gaze on the fireplace instead.

“I envy you that,” he answers softly, after a short reflection. He glances up at you, studying you intently. “A home fire, always burning in the same place.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you.

Every day, the thought of him leaving you is more painful. At the moment, as you sit close enough to listen to him breathing, the thought is unbearable. Your home is his home now, and you long — more than you have ever longed for anything — for him to realize that he belongs here.

His shadowed eyes search yours a moment more, then return to gazing at the flames.

You take a deep, steadying breath to calm yourself. Your hands are trembling, and you smooth them over your skirt, hoping he does not notice how nervous you are from this simple interaction.

“Tea?” you ask quickly, pushing yourself to stand and get a bit of space between the two of you.

He glances up again, and your heart clenches at the gentleness in his expression. He nods. “Thank you.”

Have his eyes ever seemed so wide, so earnest? Are you imagining the way his gaze lingers on you, drinking in every detail of the way you move?

You can feel the tension in the room thickening, your own heart beating faster as you fill the kettle with water and set the tea leaves to brewing. Somehow, sharing space with this man is so much more intimate at night, with a storm raging outside and a warm fire bringing extra heat to the atmosphere.

Even more astonishing to you is the fact that you are not afraid of this powerful soldier. He is strong enough to do anything he wishes to you, to take whatever he obviously wants. But even now, standing here in your night shift, with your hair and your defenses down, you have no fear of him.

If anything, you wish he would initiate a touch, a kiss, anything that would lead to the passion that has been haunting your dreams every night.

Such as your dream last night. You can still feel the sensation of your body thoroughly tangled with his, your limbs entwined, his hands pulling your skirt up to your waist. Your cheeks burn when you remember all the places he kissed in your dream, all the places he touched and explored and pleasured. Such thoughts make you ache all over again, especially now that you are standing so close to him.

A blinding crack of lightning, followed by the roar of thunder, pulls you from the dream-memory of his mouth hot on your throat.

To distract yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you ramble on the first topic you can think of. “My father used to tell me stories beside this fire,” you announce as you hang the kettle over the fire and settle back into the chair beside him. You don’t dare meet his eyes, even as a smile crosses your lips at the memory. “I always begged him to tell me ghost stories even though they frightened me.”

He tilts his head to the side to look at you curiously, a smile of his own playing at his lips. “What kind of ghosts do you have in these parts?” he asks, leaning on one arm of the chair to look at you more squarely.

Somehow, having his full attention focused on you is unnerving, undoing, arousing. You can hardly find the words to speak.

His eyes are still on your face as you feel a deep blush burning in your cheeks. You hope he will attribute it to the warmth of the fire, not your intense reaction to the way he gazes at you. If he only knew how much more heated you are by his presence.

“My favorite is the Howling Woman,” you blurt out, glad that your voice is not as unsteady as you feared. “She wears all gray, with her head covered. She’s been seen in these mountains for decades.”

He does not interrupt you, but your breath catches as his gaze wanders across your face. An absent smile is still on his lips, and he seems to be content to simply watch you, to let his eyes trace the lines of your face, your neck, your hair where it tumbles over your shoulders. His gaze is searching, admiring.

How will you find the strength to hide your desire when one look from him could bring you to your knees?

Clenching your jaw and willing the kettle to boil faster, you continue your story determinedly. “They say she was the wife of a farmer who was killed after being thrown from his horse. She found him with his neck broken.” You pause, still breathless from the effects of his undivided attention. “She went mad and drowned her own children. When she came to her senses and realized what she had done, she walked into the wilderness to die.”

You wait for him to interject, to ask some clarifying question or comment, but he does not. He is still leaning on the arm of his chair, his dark eyes captivated by the sight of you in the firelight. You can almost sense the way he is actively preventing himself from letting his gaze wander further down — where your shift does little to hide the shape of your figure.

But somehow, his watchfulness is not an act of seduction. He seems genuinely swept up in your story, spellbound by the sound of your voice. He listens to you intently, curiously, and waits for you to continue.

“But to punish her for her crime,” you continue, blushing even harder, “the gods cursed her to wander these mountains and valleys for eternity, never able to die and meet her family in the afterlife.”

It is the sound of your voice, you realize now. His gaze wanders over your features slowly, as if measuring them, but his silence persists the longer you speak. It is as if he cannot bring himself to interrupt you, so captivated as he is by your voice.

“She still walks at night,” you finish, finally allowing yourself to look deep into his eyes. There seems to be no end to them, no way to pull yourself out of the gaze that holds you captive. “She wanders, calling and wailing and howling.”

He swallows hard, licks his lips, though you guess he does so unconsciously. A shiver runs up your spine, and not from your ghost story.

You lean forward, just an inch or so, to finish the story. “They say you can hear her best on a night like this,” you whisper, and the silence between you is so concentrated that you feel you might choke on it.

His gaze flits down to your lips for a moment, and in this flickering firelight, surrounded by warmth and desire, you think he may kiss you.

The silence is broken by a loud crack of thunder outside, one that makes you jump at its suddenness. You both look away, realizing how intently you have been gazing at one another for an inexcusably long amount of time.

The tea in the kettle is boiling at last, and, glad for the distraction, you lean forward to take it off the fire. Your two cups are sitting on the table beside you, and you fill both before handing one to him. He nods his thanks, and the two of you sit quietly for a few moments, looking deep into the firelight.

He is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Do you believe in ghosts?” he asks softly, with that pleasant raspy quality you have come to recognize in him at night.

You smile and lean back in your chair to sip at your tea. “Of course,” you confirm lightly. “Don’t you?”

His expression grows quizzical, and he doesn’t lift his eyes away from the fire. He takes a sip of his tea, thinks for a long time before answering. You are more than content to sit in silence with him, but he finally comes to an answer.

“No,” he tells you quietly, still mesmerized by the dancing flames. Eerie shadows prance over his fine features. “Spirits do not wander the earth after death. They go to the afterlife.”

His voice is calm and even, but resolute, assured. You have talked so little with him about such things, and you cannot deny your curiosity at learning more about what he believes.

“How do you know?” you press, unconsciously leaning toward him.

He does not move for a moment, just grips his cup tighter and sharpens his gaze at the fire. “I have seen enough death to feel certain of it,” he declares, then turns his head to look into your eyes again. “If ghosts could exist,” he tells you softly, gently, “then I would be haunted by them every moment.”

Your heart aches for him now, for the pain and grief he carries with him always. His life has been difficult, laden with the weight of many lives and much responsibility. Even in a peaceful haven like your home, he is ever followed by the burdens of his past, no matter how much comfort and peace you have offered him.

“Perhaps they do not wish to speak to you,” you suggest, tilting your head to show that you are teasing him. “Perhaps you do not know all there is to know in the world.”

His haunted expression softens as he looks at you, taking in the meaning of your words. As before, his soft smile smoothes the lines in his face, lifts a bit of the weariness etched into his features. You can’t help wondering if he realizes your effect on him, if he craves these moments of tranquility and comfort as much as you do.

“I am sure of that,” he tells you in a low voice, and your heart turns over at the simple passion in his eyes.

You lapse into silence once again, each of you drinking your tea and losing yourself in thought. Your own ponderings are of him, wondering what he is thinking. He has seemed burdened ever since you found him sitting by the fire, and you long to know what worries him.

If he only knew how your heart leaps at the sight of him, how you long to cradle his face in your hands, to kiss him until all his burdens are lifted, until all he knows is this deep, all-consuming love that has swept over your heart like an autumn storm.

The thunder continues to roll outside, the rain pelting your roof relentlessly, but the warmth of the fire and the pleasant constancy of his presence is comforting.

You do not press him for several long minutes, letting him mull over his worries in silence until both of you have finished your tea. When you set your two empty cups on the table beside you, you finally decide to inquire, pushing your chair a few inches nearer to him and leaning on one arm of the chair so you can look into his eyes more closely.

“What troubles you?” you ask softly, and he finally lifts his head, dark eyes burning into yours with all the intensity of the hearth fire.

His voice is hardly more than a whisper when he replies, “Ghosts.”

“Memories?” you ask, entranced by the way he slowly leans forward, closing the distance between the two of you one inch at a time. Your skin suddenly burns, aching for a touch, one simple touch, that will answer your constant longing for his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, in which he seems to ponder the consequences of what he wants, he finally lifts one hand and trails his fingertips down the side of your face.

“Shadows of things I do not understand,” he murmurs absently, and he traces the line of your jaw with fingers so gentle you cannot imagine them ever wielding a sword.

He gazes at you more openly now, his eyes traveling down to your lips as his thumb brushes over them. You suppress a shudder at the contact, and he strokes your lips a few times, transfixed by the sight, before sliding the backs of his knuckles down the column of your throat.

Stars in the heavens, if he only knew how your body is aching for him, how you respond to the slightest touch he gives you.

You finally find your voice to speak. “Is it your men?” you ask softly, as if the room has suddenly been overtaken by a spell.

He sighs, brow furrowed deeply in thought. “They were not my men,” he replies at last, still stroking his fingers down your neck. “Not the ones who betrayed me. My men were loyal, courageous.” His voice is thick with sorrow, and you sense that recalling this memory is painful for him. “They were my brothers,” he half-whispers. “They would have risen up in rebellion if they had known.”

Your heart aches again at the sadness in his voice, the sadness he works so hard to disguise throughout the day. Somehow, in the darkness, in the stillness of nighttime, he seems more vulnerable.

“Why does the Emperor want you dead so badly?” you finally venture to ask.

His hand stills on your neck, eyes not quite focused on your face. He seems to be traveling back in time in his mind, and he draws a deep breath as he thinks. Almost as if he does not realize what he is doing, his hand wanders to the base of your neck, absently stroking the sensitive skin there.

It’s all you can do to hold still, to keep from betraying how perfectly wonderful his touch is to you.

His voice is low and measured when he answers your question. “I once received favor that he believed should have been his.” He pauses, then raises his eyes to meet yours meaningfully. “By his own father.”

His words take you aback, and you know he must notice your wide-eyed stare. “Marcus Aurelius?” you squawk in disbelief. “You knew the great Emperor?”

“Yes,” he replies, his face softening into a smile at the memory. You are shocked by the revelation, but his fond smile warms your heart after seeing his heavily burdened expression a moment ago.

He presses on, though his hand is now running softly over your shoulder, skimming over the top of your thin shift. “I was young when he took me under his wing,” he explains, eyes tracing the path his hand is making on your shoulder. “I had won some small battles, and he saw in me potential for greater things. He made me what I am today.”

He strokes your shoulder once, gently, then removes his hand, as though he cannot trust himself to keep touching you there. Again lifting his deep blue eyes to meet your gaze, he looks at you so tenderly, so affectionately, as he raises the same hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You want to melt, to close your eyes and sigh in pleasure at his simple touch, but you fight for your composure. “He must have been a great man,” you manage instead, meaning every word.

“He was the greatest man I have ever known,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through your hair at your temple now. “He is the closest thing to a father that I ever knew.”

You have noticed how the man is drawn to your hair whenever you leave it down. He seems fascinated with it, with the way it cascades through his fingers when he cards them through it. His attentions are so gentle, so unobtrusive, as if he is unable to keep himself from simply admiring your beauty in this soft firelight.

“And that is why the Emperor envies you,” you observe to keep from losing your breath.

“Yes,” he answers quietly, his voice hardly above a whisper. “He believed that his father wanted to pass on his power to me.”

You nearly startle in surprise at his words. Not only the commander of the northern armies, not only a confidante of Marcus Aurelius, but the rightful future emperor himself?

You almost feel dizzy, though you’re not sure if it is from the shocking news or the way his fingers keep brushing your temple as he plays with your hair. “Did he?” you prompt him breathlessly, genuinely curious.

He ponders for several long moments, letting your hair stream between his fingers. You are entranced simply by looking at his features — his dark eyelashes, his sharp nose, the gentle creases by his mouth. He is so exquisitely lovely to you, so unaware of how deeply he affects you.

“I do not know,” he finally admits, tracing the side of your face before letting his hand fall back into his lap again. “He never told me.”

His words silence some of the shock you were feeling at wondering if you were in the presence of a man who was supposed to have ruled Rome. The thought of this man, this humble, honest, unpretentious warrior, ruling such a corrupt and conniving empire is almost unthinkable.

You are struck by the absence of his touch, and he seems hesitant to initiate any more contact now that he realizes how close he has drawn to you. He’s still watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction to his touches, but you cannot resist reaching out to him now.

Your fingers seek out the necklace that hangs down to his chest, a simple cord bearing two wolf’s teeth on the end. You have never asked him about its origin. You handle it carefully, and the man barely breathes as your hand hovers over his chest.

“What would you have done if all this had never happened?” you ask softly, caught in the intimacy of this quiet moment. “Would you have been a soldier all your life?”

Your question is a heavy one, full of unspoken desire and curiosity. You can tell he senses that desire by the way his dark eyes burn into yours, by the way his chest rises and falls more quickly, as if you are taking his breath away just by touching his necklace.

He thinks for a few moments, still gazing deep into your eyes. “I always imagined I would die in battle,” he tells you, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “There seemed no other fate in store for me.”

Your heart tightens, and you let go of your loose grip on his necklace. Suddenly, all you want to do is touch him, to make contact with his body somehow. His words have struck a chord in your heart, reminding you how grateful you are that this world-weary soldier has come to your home, to your hearth, instead of falling on a battlefield hundreds of miles away.

With your pulse racing, you press your hand flat against his chest, splaying your fingers over his heart. Even through the fabric of his nightshirt, you can feel his heart pounding like a war drum, perfectly in rhythm with your own.

Oh, how you long to press your heart against his, to be wrapped up in his arms, so thoroughly tangled with his body that you cannot tell where you begin and he ends.

His breath comes more quickly now, his lips parted and his eyes scorching yours with a hunger that stirs your blood.

“But,” he begins in a hoarse whisper, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up, “I did imagine, sometimes…” He pauses, licks his lips again, takes a slow breath, “that if I did have a chance to grow old… I might…”

He halts again, his voice dying in his throat. You press your palm more firmly against his chest, and his heart skips a beat beneath your hand. You can feel his skin burning hot under his shirt.

“Tell me,” you whisper, and a look of unadulterated desire flashes across his face.

He leans close to you, close enough that his breath skims over your lips. “That I might one day have a home,” he breathes. “A family.” He sighs softly, the longing in his voice especially evident. “A life of peace always seemed… unlikely.”

The hesitation in his words is palpable, and suddenly his own larger hand is covering yours, pressing it tight against his chest. You realize that he is relishing your touch the way you relished his a moment ago.

After holding your hand against his heart a moment longer, he grasps your hand in his, lifts it to his lips. Your own heart skips a beat now, when he presses a slow, languid kiss to the back of your hand.

“And now?” you whisper, breathless and tingling with need.

He breathes against your hand, slowly and calmly. “Now,” he echoes, his voice rumbling in your bones. “Now a life of peace seems impossible.”

No. No, he cannot mean that. He cannot still mean to leave you when his gentle eyes speak of the passion he holds for you.

“It does not have to be,” you insist, lifting your free hand to touch the side of his face. He actually sighs at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. His lips are slightly parted, and it takes all your willpower not to lean forward and kiss him until he can breathe nothing but your name.

His eyes remain closed when he responds, your hand still cradled in his. “To believe otherwise would be foolish,” he tells you, though his voice is anything but resolute. “Dangerous.”

You stroke the side of his face tenderly, enraptured by the way he reacts to your touch. He seems so relaxed, so overwhelmed when you caress him gently. The thought suddenly strikes you that this man has probably never been touched this way — not as light as a feather, with such love and affection that he can feel it beating in rhythm with his heart.

When you brush your fingertips down his neck, over the sensitive skin of his throat, he makes a sound so soft, so unguarded, that you nearly come undone for him right there.

“Are you not well acquainted with danger?” you whisper, leaning in closer to him. He opens his eyes when he feels you drawing nearer, and his fathomless eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You want him to stay. You want him to love you as you so desperately love him. You want him to never stop looking at you the way he is now.

And when you press your hand flat against the side of his neck, your gaze fluttering over every perfect feature of his face, his soul opens to you, and you see all the love you bear for him reflected deep in his own eyes.

“Yes,” he breathes, and he leans forward to close the few inches that separate your lips from his.

The first sensation that strikes you is his blood pulsing in his neck, hammering against your hand as you caress him. His own hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place while he presses his lips against yours.

There is no hesitation in this kiss, no second-guessing or reluctance. His lips move against yours in a rhythm so natural that you wonder if he has imagined this as many times as you have.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, drowning in your kiss like a dying man seeking air. You can feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, so unaccustomed to any attention as passionate as this. The man lifts his other hand to cradle your jaw, still kissing your lips, gently but insistently, over and over and over.

This is what heaven must be like, you realize distantly when his tongue slides against yours, every inch of your skin tingling in response. His undivided attention, his unashamed desire for you is so arousing, so delightful in every way.

You can feel your cheeks burning, your skin heating up, the longer his hands linger on your face and neck. His fingers stroke your jaw, and his other hand grips your hair just hard enough to hold you in place. He is still reveling in your kiss, still using his lips and tongue to draw out the softest moan you have ever made in your life.

As soon as he hears it, he moves his lips to press against the corner of your mouth, much as he did the first time he kissed you in the barn. He trails his lips down your jaw, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he passes.

Thoroughly excited by his kisses and touches, your mind is all too eager to provide any number of tempting images. When he dips his head to one side, lips touching the place where your jaw meets your neck, all you can imagine is the careful way he would undress you, lay you down, and make love to you, slowly and gently but passionately.

He drags his lips down your neck, his curious tongue coaxing another soft sound from you. Again, your mind flashes to all the ways he might use his tongue on you, all the places he could seek out and tease until you are so dizzy with pleasure that all you can say is his name, over and over.

Another press of his tongue, and it takes all your strength not to beg him to take you right here. You can imagine it so easily, the way he would grip your waist, your hips, the way you would wrap yourself around him and touch every inch of his bare skin if he would only give you the chance.

What would you not give to see him shudder in pleasure, to throw his head back and hold you tight as you cling to him and make him feel the same thing he ignites in you?

It’s at that moment that he whispers your name, tenderly, reverently, like a prayer, against the soft column of your throat. Your whole body shudders in response, your hands tightening where they have landed on his broad shoulders, and he finally fulfills what you have been aching for.

One strong arm wraps around your waist, the other around your upper back, and in the space of a breath the man has pulled you against him, leaning you to the side so that you are cradled in his arms across his lap.

You are suddenly very aware of how thin your shift is, of the way he must be able to feel every curve of your body pressed against him. His fingers are gentle where they wrap around your waist, and you feel with heightened awareness all the strength of his own body, all his powerful muscles and vigorous energy.

All you can do is sigh in pleasure as he keeps his head buried in your neck, still kissing your sensitive skin as though he cannot get enough of you.

You can barely take a breath, so overcome with the multitude of sensations he ignites in you. His hand flexes against your waist, and you respond in kind with your fingers digging into his back.

You have the distinct impression that the man is having to physically restrain himself from going further, that all he wants to do right now is yank open your shift and kiss his way down your bare body. As irresistible as that thought is, you let him take the lead, and he chooses to simply kiss you rather than ravish you.

He is a noble man, a man of honor, and though your body is aching for him to truly make you his, you take pleasure in his self-control, his respect for you.

His fervent kisses to your neck finally slow, and he breathes against your skin as though trying to memorize you. When he nuzzles his face against your neck, all you can do is close your eyes in absolute ecstasy. One of your hands finds its way into his hair, and it’s his turn to shiver with pleasure, pulling you even closer against his body and resting his lips against the curve of your neck.

He goes still in your arms when you stroke his hair, slowly and tenderly with your fingertips. Again, you are struck by his reactions to your gentle touches, by the way he melts into your arms as though overpowered.

Several long moments are spent in that position, with you cradled against his chest, his face against your neck. You would be content to stay like this all night, just listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beating against your side.

But the moment passes, as all moments do. Another crack of thunder shakes the house, and you can’t help but jump a little in his arms.

As if pulled out of his daze, the man smiles softly against your neck, strokes your back soothingly in a way that only serves to make you arch your body against his. A moment later, he lifts his head from the crook of your shoulder, letting his face brush against yours as you disentangle yourselves.

Though you have just spent the last few moments passionately embracing and kissing, and though both of you are still flushed and breathless with exhilaration, the following moment is not awkward. You do not look at each other as you part, but you can sense your own relief and contentment in him.

You do not know what will come of this. You do not know if he will stay much longer. But in a moment like this, with your lips still swollen from his kiss and your skin still burning from his touch, you feel as though no heartbreak can be as vast as this perfect fulfillment you feel with him.

You stand slowly, glad that you are not as unsteady as you feel, and you lift the kettle off the fire just to have something to do. You can feel the man’s eyes on you, though he does not speak.

“It is a fierce storm tonight,” you comment, almost without realizing that you are speaking. The silence between you was comfortable, but you long to say something, to know that he is still at ease with you.

He takes his time in responding, especially since you have your back to him. “Yes,” he says simply, his voice deep and husky.

Stars, how you want to hear that voice in your ear, in your bed, murmuring to you while you both reach the height of your shared pleasure.

You swallow hard to banish your intrusive thoughts. You move to set the kettle down in your cabinet and scramble to think of something else to say. Rain continues to pound against your roof, sending a slight chill through the air despite the warmth of the fire.

“Will you be warm enough tonight?” you ask over your shoulder, still conscious of his eyes burning into your back.

Again, he takes his time answering. “Yes,” he finally replies. “Will you?”

You let the question hang, still standing with your back to him. You hope he can understand your wordless answer, especially after sharing such an intimate moment.

The only warmth I crave now is the heat of your body against mine.

Still trying to avoid meeting his eyes, you half-turn to pick up your two empty cups from the table. Doing so makes you lean against the side of the little square table, and you notice with great surprise that it does not tilt dangerously to the side as it has for the last several months.

The table legs are perfectly even now, and you suddenly raise your eyes to look at the man squarely. He is gazing at you with the oddest combination of expressions — desire, contentment, admiration, sorrow, longing, affection, and several others you cannot name.

“You fixed my table,” you observe, genuinely struck by the kindness of his simple gesture. You don’t know when he did it, but sometime in the last few days he must have noticed the unsteadiness and taken the time to fix it somehow.

He holds your gaze for a long moment, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “It needed fixing,” he replies simply.

Your heart leaps into your throat, though you can’t say quite why. Despite the fact that just a moment ago you were wrapped up in his arms, sighing while he covered your neck with kisses, you are much more affected by his modest demonstration of kindness — fixing something of yours that was broken.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, returning his small smile with all the warmth blossoming in your heart.

You finish your task, setting the two cups in the cabinet to be washed tomorrow. The storm outside has quieted somewhat, but you can still hear the constant pounding of raindrops on the roof and walls.

Quiet thunder rolls in the distance as you turn to look at the man again. He is still seated, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows, gazing at you curiously.

This is what you want: this man in your home, always, sharing your fire, sharing your space, looking at you as if you hold his heart in your hands.

The words spill from your lips before you can consider them. “My father always told me that a storm can make a person change their mind about anything.” You hear the significance in your own words, and you press on anyway. “He said it’s in their nature to bring about transformation.”

The man’s darkened eyes do not leave yours for a moment, and you hold his gaze steadily, wanting him to hear your unspoken plea.

Stay with me. Let me love you as I do in my dreams.

His face does not betray any decision, but his gaze is tender, filled with a weary longing. His eyes explore each feature of your face as gently as his fingers did a few moments ago.

“Perhaps I will listen to it for awhile, then,” he murmurs, and your heart sighs.

All is not lost. You must simply wait.

As you start towards the doorway that leads to your bedroom, you pause beside his chair. The man is looking up at you with eyes that melt you to your very soul. Overcome with your affection for him, you lift one hand and stroke the side of his face, smiling down at him fondly.

“Goodnight, general,” you whisper, and your heart whispers, Beloved.

Before you can drop your hand, the man wraps his fingers around it and brings it to his lips. An unhurried kiss to the back of your hand, one that sends another shiver down your spine, and he releases you. His eyes burn into yours, intense, ardent, yearning.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, and your heart hears his whisper, Beloved, long after you have slipped into the next room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

#this may or may not be the best standalone fic i've ever written #i forgot about it but it seemed appropriate for halloween hehe #in case anyone is wondering this is what is happening in my brain constantly #this is just the words version of it #maximus is ALWAYS on my mind #i am eternally longing for sweet moments like this #i swoon i yearn i melt i die #the thought of sharing a moment like this with him???#i go into cardiac arrest #i wrote this and it still makes me melt every time i reread it #because it's from the heart!!#this was written with all the love i bear for him!!!#welcome to this tiny glimpse into my heart and soul friends #enjoy the drama #and the love #and the spicy hints here and there hehehehe #oh maximus how i love you #how i would love you if given the chance #gladiator #maximus #maximus decimus meridius #gladiator 2000 #russell crowe #fanfiction #gladiator fanfiction #maximus x reader #maximus decimus meridius x reader #my fanfiction

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kittyhui · 9 months ago

Text

exes to lovers! seungcheol x reader

!!MDNI!!

[seungcheol ended your five year long relationship seemingly out of nowhere, leaving you heartbroken. two years after your breakup, you release your solo album, song written about the heartbreak you felt. now, seungcheol is trying to get your love back]

cw: idol x idol, angst w/ comfort, semi public sex, not grammar checked well😭

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I think we should break up” is all Seungcheol says to you, sad in his eyes.

He walks out of your apartment, not staying to listen to your cries and pleads, asking for an explanation on why he was so suddenly doing this. He was a completely different person from the last time you saw him; his love-filled eyes replaced with cold and sad ones.

You tried to contact him multiple times after that; calls and messages never answered, leaving you and your heart shattered, your members having to pick up the pieces. A five year old relationship gone in a flash, without a reason, without even a thought of why. Did i do something wrong? Did he grow tired? Was there.. someone else? The situation hurt you so badly, that even fans could tell something was wrong. Your relationship was a secret from fans and from your company, save from the members. Your performance during promotions were off and it took you almost a full year to get back on your game, taking a hiatus at one time because it was just so bad. but you were feeling better now. It’s now past your two year breakup anniversary, and though you think about the good times of your old relationship, you weren’t consumed with grief anymore. You felt much better, better than ever. Better enough to release your first solo album, songs written from that time.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[interviewer] So, What was the thought process behind this album?

[Y/N] All these songs are a part of a giant collection of songs while i was going through a lot of feelings haha. Most of these were my inner thoughts and feelings that I couldn't express to anyone else so I wrote them out. they’ve only now came out because I was finally confident in myself and these songs after years and my members helped build my courage to share them with you all.

[Interviewer] I’m happy that you were finally able to overcome your fears with your songs.

[Y/N] Thank you so much

[Interviewer] Do you think you could go more in depth about the song meanings?

[Y/n] Yea, of course. The first song on the album can be interpreted in multiple ways in my opinion. When I wrote this, I was thinking about someone I loved truly. I wrote this wishing that the way they ended it could’ve been that we just fell out of love. I wanted us to be tired of each other, to just want it to be over and so I wrote this point of view wishing this was the reality, even though I knew how much I still loved them. It’s very sad and kinda pathetic but yea haha.

For the second track, I wrote this because in this same relationship, the way we broke up was so rushed and I was not ready for it. I felt like they didn’t even feel anything towards me anymore and it broke me down so much. By the end of the song, I kinda accept it as the end and try to let them go.

Ah~ This third track was actually wrote when i was first in that relationship. We were both falling hard and fast and I had to let it out in a way. I can’t really explain more.

[Interviewer] And lastly, the fully english track?

[Y/N] This one really talks about how even if I’ll be in another relationship in the future, I’ll only think about and try to find them in the other person. I wrote this the latest out of all of them. I knew I was still in love with this person even though it’s been years since the breakup but I know I’ll always see them as my first and only love even if they don’t see me the same way.

[Interviewer] These are all truly beautiful songs

[Y/N] Thank you

[Interviewer] We just have a few more questions before we say goodbye today. Firstly, You said these songs were in a collection of other songs, will you release the rest of them as well?

[Y/N] Maybe, I’m surprised I got away making this album so hopefully I can push my companies limits a tad more.

[Interviewer] Next question, This relationship you sing about seemed really intense. Was it a long one?

[Y/N] Yea, It dont think I can go into too many details but it was a pretty serious relationship. When it ended, I took it very hard. I liked them for a long time before too so it was rough haha

[Interviewer] Last question, Because you produce and write songs for your group, Have you ever wrote about this relationship in those songs?

[Y/N] Honestly I couldn’t tell you. I try not to because I’m still not the best about this relationship I was in but it’s probably slipped in a few songs unfortunately haha

[Interviewer] Thank you so much for coming onto my show today!

[Y/N] I’m honored to be asked here for an interview, thank you. I’d also like to say thank you to my fans and anyone else who is listening in! Please enjoy my new album!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Needless to say, your interview was seen by alot of people. Neitzens have been picking it apart since it came out, speculating on the mystery person you were talking about. Your fans were both happy for you and angry for you; ready to fight the person who broke your heart. Though the publicity was great for your album sales and streams, the constant news was really tiring now, especially now that you were promoting at music shows. Music shows that your ex, S.Coups of Seventeen, was also promoting at with his group. Singing a song about your heartbreak in the same place of the person who hurt you so bad, was awkward to say the least. The waiting room of the music show was the worst. passing by him and his group makes your heart pound. His eyes follow you when you pass by each other. you try not to meet his eyes. Your heart just couldn’t handle it. Your still wanted him yet you hated him at the same time. You wanted to kiss him again but also wanted to hit him. The last conversation you both had together was him breaking up with you. He hurt you so badly yet you yearned for him.

So when he approached you before your performance, you felt conflicted.

“Y/n?” The familiar voice fills your ears and you look up at the man standing infront of your sitting figure.

“Seungcheol? What are you doing” You didn’t actually think he would speak to you again, but here he was.

“Can we- can we talk?” He pauses, licking his lips nervously “I know you probably never want to speak to me ever again but I just want a second of your time.”

“You really have horrible timing. I going on stage in a few minutes. Please don’t do this now. You had two years to talk about this,” You look away from his, glancing to the side “We can talk.. after the music show is over. Don’t expect too much, though” You stand and walk to the stairs of the stage and he sighs, agreeing to meet later on.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The music show ends entirely too quickly for your liking, leg bouncing nervously in your dressing room and when you hear a knock at the door you know it’s Seungcheol. You open the door, the man in front of you quickly walking in and closing the door again.

“Y/n..” He sighs

“Seungcheol,” You try to sound disinterested but inside you just want to hug him. “Please just say what you have to say”

“I just want to say I’m so sorry for the way I ended things. I know I hurt you beyond belief and it hurts that I hurt you. I watched your interview and.. god.. I care about you so much.. I never wanted to break up with you but I had to..” His eyes brim with tears and he lets out a haggard breath.

“Then why did you? Five years, Seungcheol. I loved you for five years, hell, I still love you after what you did, but, just why? I felt like I wasted all those years for nothing. I want to marry you… I wanted to have everything with you.. You were my first everything and you hurt me like I was nothing..” You were choking on your tears at this point, the salty liquid pooling in you lips “You were more than just a boyfriend to me, Seungcheol. You were the love of my life.”

“Y/n.. I.. I didn’t break up because I wanted to.. your company found out.. they threatened your career if I didn’t break up with you.. I tried to convince them to let us be, but they were persistent and my company was pressuring me as well.. I shouldve fought for you more.. I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you what was happening but… I was a coward. I never stopped loving you, y/n.. You’re the love of my life too. I had every intention of being with you until the day I died, and I want to fight for you now even though I didn’t before.”

The shock of what he said lingers in your mind. You look at him without saying anything. He sat down next to you, letting you process his words. After some time you finally spoke.

“I dont know what to say,” You start “I believe you even though that means my company did this too me but.. I dont know. I want to forgive you. I want you, Cheol. I want you to be in my life again. but it took me so long to recover from this. I dont know if we’ll ever be what we were before,” He looks down at his feet in defeat “But we can try..” He looks up at you again, eyes brightening.

He finally smiles, “You dont understand how badly I missed you…” He hugs you tightly before looking into your eyes and then looking down at your lips “can I..” You nod slowly, waiting for his lips to touch yours.

He kisses your lips with hunger, holding on to you for fear you might run away “Missed you.. Misses your touch.. ‘m so sorry, my love” He pushes you flat on the couch you were sitting on, kissing you face and neck with desire. He missed this so much. “I love you, baby. Please let me make you feel good.. Love you..” You whine at his words, hips grinding up at his.

“l-love you too, Cheolie.. Please.. Need you so bad” Your hands move up and down his clothed back. “Please..missed you too” He kisses you quickly, breaking away to remove the both of your clothes.

“Just a gorgeous as I remember,” He mutters under his breath. You can feel his hard member on your stomach, moaning at the anticipation of having him after so long. “Need to be inside you so bad, baby”

“mhm please, cheolie..“ You pull him closer, begging him to do anything.

“shhh, ill take care of you, baby.” he coos at you, finally pushing in, “shit- so tight.. you feel so good baby” he brushes the hairs out of your face, kissing your forehead gently. “So good for me, my love”

“Please move- Please I need it. Cheolie- Needed this so bad” You sob as he finally starts to roll his hips into yours, groans falling from his mouth.

“God- y-you’re too good, baby. Am I making you feel good, hm?” He fucks into you faster, rougher, breathlessly calling out your name into your ear.

“yes yes makin’ me feel so good- gonna cum soon” You hips rut into his, determined to make both of you cum.

“b-baby” He pushes your hips back into the couch, “Be good- i’ll let you cum, promise…” He breathes out hot breath, eyes blown wide as he pounds into you; your heat sucking him in dangerously. “Cum for me please, need you to cum, baby.”

Your desperation for each other was unmatched and you were sure that the people walking past your dressing room can hear the obscene noises coming from it, but you could care less. The pleads for more came out if your mouth like a ritual and Seungcheol knew you were close. One of his hands grip your own, telling you to cum, and what else can you do when his cock twitches inside of you so deliciously. You cry out his name once more before cumming hard. Feeling you pulse around him, he fills you up with spurts of his hot cum in you. “Fuck, did you so good, my love. I love you so much” He breathes out, pecking your lips once again.

You look into his eyes, dazed, and welling with tears again. His happy demeanor changes ones again. “Hey. Hey, Y/n. What’s wrong? Did i do something?” He looks you up and down, checking for injuries. Making sure he didn’t fuck this up again.

“No- i just- i just missed you so much, Cheolie,” you cry out. “Love you so much..” His arms are around you before you can even say another word. He murmurs I love you’s into your ears, kissing the tears rolling down your face.

“I love you too, baby. let’s go home hm?”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n: these are the songs i used as reference for the solo album songs:

1. Can’t Love You Anymore - IU

2. Goodbye - OOHYO

3. Fallin’ - Yoon Hyun Sang

4. Glimpse of Us - Joji

this was so spur of the moment #loveit

#seventeen #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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femd-archive · 7 months ago

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hiiii!! omg i love ur work sm it just scratches an itch i’ve had forever, i’ve always loved the dom reader + sub male character relationship and ur work is perfect! if it’s okay could i be 🌺 anon if you use the emoji system for that?

i have a request if ur taking them atm, i saw ur sub kenji oneshots and i was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a subby kenji x reader w a lot of miscommunication or general angst bc that’s my absolute fave!! w all the smut you want ofc!

and if you don’t want to take the request that’s totally cool! i really just wanted to tell you ur writing is amazing and ily!

— 🌺

hello! thanks for ur request :] and of course u can be 🌺 anon! i also love angst, more so the hurt/comfort trope, but i'm really bad at writting it (╥‸╥) so this was my attempt to write a hurt/comfort fic for the first time. hope u like it! i'll practice to make it better next time (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

p.s.: i didn't add much smut, mostly because my brain is fried :p

NOT ALONE

pairing: ultraman: rising — ken sato x fem!reader

word counting: 2.7k

content warning: arguing | kenji is so stressed :( | riding | unprotected sex | masturbation (female)

side note: english is not my first lenguage, so i apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes

You notice, of course you notice.

You love and care for Kenji too much to not notice the dark circles under his eyes because of the lack of sleep; the way he's been more sensitive, even over the most little things; how he overworks himself in his baseball practices and won't stop unless Mina turns the stadium hologram off.

You knew how his relationship with his father was, but you have seen the way he declines his calls without a second thought now, knowing the guilt trip he had to overcome before he even hit the decline button on his watch before.

You notice, and of course you're worried about it. You didn't have to be his girlfriend to be worried. Hell, you would even be worried by just seeing him walk like a zombie in the streets as a stranger! And all that worry is what brings you in front of his mansion door at midnight.

He hasn't been answering your messages nor calls. You get it, he's a busy baseball player, but he always made at least a few minutes to reply to your messages, mostly saying sorry for not picking up your calls and that he'll call you back after he's done with an interview, telling you that he loves you.

After ringing his doorbell, you only had to wait for a few minutes before you could hear the hurried footsteps coming to the door. Opening it, there he was. With his adorable bed head, he looked up at you, tired eyes wide with surprise.

"Baby" his voice cracked, making him clear his throat before he talks again. "Hey baby, uhm...I didn't know that you were coming!" he laughs nervously.

"Well...I did text you" you shake your phone, and Kenji gulps.

"I..." he sighs, "I'm sorry baby. I just been...so busy later" he groans, rubbing a hand over his face with fatigue.

"I understand, Kenji. May I come in? I just wanna talk with you. It's been a while"

Kenji looks at you through his sleepy eyes, and even in that state, you were able to see the way his eyes softened at the sight of you. It really has been a while. He reaches a hand to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"Of course" he mumbles, low but loud enough for you to hear him. He moves his hand from your face to your hand, taking it and pulling you softly inside, closing the door behind him.

You guys walk over the kitchen. Kenji lets go of your hand to walk over the fridge. "Do you want anything?" he asks, referring to the fridge's content.

[Name] sucks in a breath, gathering courage to speak. "Yeah, I'd like for us to talk" she finally said, noticing how Kenji's shoulder tense as he close the door's fridge, staying there with a can of soda in his head, not facing her. "For you to talk to me, Kenji. I believe you when you say you're busy with baseball, I really do! But I thrust my gut to know that there's something else going on"

She walks closer to him, staring at his broad back. How she wishes she could just hug him from behind and erase all his problems. But the world is more complicated than that, and she knows it.

"You can't always rely on your gut to make conclusions" opening the can soda, Kenji spit those words with a gruff tone, making [Name] surprised over his mood change.

Of course she wasn't off limits of seeing him mad only because she was his girlfriend, but she didn't expect for him to talk to her like that over a simple request.

"Then talk to me, Kenji. I don't wanna be like this either" she starts talking, following Kenji as he walks away while drinking from the can. "You don't have to tell me everything, but at least admit that you're having a hard time so I can at least hold you"

Kenji lets out a chuckle, incredulous. "Hard time? Baby, I'm Ken Sato! I don't have hard times, I only have good times" he spread his arms beside him, trying to appear as flawless as ever, obtaining a deadpan face from you.

"Kenji, you look like shit" you simply say. "You can barely walk with your eyes open. I don't know about anyone else, but I can see the lack of sleep in your eyes, I can see how your shoulder has been bothering you more each day that passes. I know that you always work hard to be on a good shape for the games, but you go to an extent that is not healthy"

"What? Did you became a physician now?" he asks after finishing rubbing his eyes, a mocking tone on his words.

"What? No" you needed to take a breath to not break. "I'm just concerned about your well being"

"I am okay" he affirms, eyebrows furrowed. "You're the that's being like 'Ohh Kenji ~ you're so tired. You should rest up'" with a high pitched tone, he mimicks you in a mocking way while pouting exaggeratedly.

You feel your heart beating fast on your chest, your cheeks hot with embarrassement. Why was he behaving like that? You just want to help. Were you being too overboard? You give him his space, you have gave it to him for weeks. And that you finally thought it was a good time to adress his lack of selfcare and how sad he looks, he talks to you like this...

"I know that you're having a hard time, Kenji. Everyone that cares about you can notice that. I just...I just want to help in what I can" you say with a weak tone now. You had shrunk in your spot, suddenly feeling sorry for even going to his house in the first place.

"Well guess what? You can't help me"

In a desperate attempt to push you away —because if you kept looking at him with those pretty eyes, he'll spill everything— he's mean to you. Not the smartest choice to treat your lover, but that's the only response that he could muster at the moment.

He was flustered at the confrontation. Of course you will notice about his poor state. You love him and care too much for him to not notice that he's going insane little by little, but he doesn't want to share that burden with you. In his mind, he just can't.

You look up at him, big sad eyes that just make him want to hug you until you both forget this stupid moment.

Holding back your tears, the only thing you could do was sigh. Your heart feels heavy on your chest, wunded by his words and harsh tone. You're not the savior of the word, you're not Ultraman either, you just wanted to help your boyfriend...

"Yeah, I already knew that" you mumble. Taking a deep breath, you look up at him with a weak smile. "Alright, you might not want to talk right now, but if you need anything...I'm always gonna be there" you remind him, giving him one last look before starting to walk off to the front door.

Kenji looks at you go. You seemed little with the way your shoulders shrunk and you walked slowly, like an injured animal. His heart also feels heavy on his chest, a pang of guilt striking over all his body as his eyes are already watering with tears.

He hated that his stupid pride wouldn't let him as for help, for it to hurt you when the only thing you wanted to do was help him in whatever way you could.

He knew you weren't weak, he knew that you could be able to handle all the secrets that he's harboring on his chest, but he doesn't want to share the burden, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you only because you know he's Ultraman.

What would he do if he lost you? He's sure that he was gonna lose his mind. Just the same way he'll lose his mind if he let you walk away through that door.

"Mina, lock the door" he commanded, and in a split of a second, the computer did so.

You didn't even try to open it after you've heard his command. Confused, you look back at Kenji, who's already walking towards you like a kicked puppy.

"Forgot to say something?" you ask, bitterness on your tone that made Kenji cringe.

He sighs, a guilty expression on his face. "Yes...I'm sorry baby" he begins. "I...I promise that I want to tell you, I want to tell you everything! But— it's...it's too dangerous"

And finally, after months of bottling all this emotions, Kenji finally breaks into loud sobs, fat tears running down his cheeks. Startled, [Name] didn't have any other reflections than hug him, even though she was still mad at his earlier attitude.

"Hey, hey" she whispered, running a hand up and down his back. "It's okay, it's okay"

Kenji wraps his arms around her shoulders, hiding his face on her neck. "I don't—" he chokes, "I don't want anything to happen to you" he cries, almost incomprehensible.

"Nothing is gonna happen to me, baby" she reassures, feeling his tears run down her neck and wetting her shirt, but she doesn't care about it. Kenji finally is being open with her, and that's all that matter.

Kenji sniffs a few times before talking with a weak voice. "Promise?" he asks.

She squeezes him a little bit more in her arms. "I promise"

Still sniffing, Kenji slowly pulls away from the hug, looking at his girlfriend with his big eyes full of tears, a cute pout in his lips. [Name] reaches her hands to run her thumbs under his eyes, drying his tears away. He nuzzles into her, a shaky breath exhaling out of him as he calms down.

"There you go" she whispers softly, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs now. "Come on, let's sit on the couch. I'll get you some water"

After a lot of reassurance that nothing was gonna happen and lots of cuddles, Kenji had finally told her everything. That his dad was Ultraman; that he took his legacy and he now serves as the new Ultraman to the city of Tokyo, and how he knows he's not doing a good job; that he has a 6 feet tall baby Kaiju that think he's her mother trapped in a container, and he clearly don't know how to take care of her; how much he misses his mother everyday...

[Name] listened to him attentively, her heart swelling at how much pain Kenji had to endure on his own and feeling guilty about not noticing sooner. Why she couldn't have been there for him? Right now, everything seemed so obvious, all of it happen in front of her, and she couldn't do nothing.

Her caresses on the back of his hand never stopped for even one second, even caressing his back when he needed to make a pause to cry.

Now they were cuddled up in the couch under a blanket. After spilling everthing out, Kenji just let himself fall into her arms and bask into her warmth.

"Thank you for telling me, Kenji. I really didn't wanna pressure you into talking, but you looked so sick...I was just so worried" she blinked back the tears, she needed to be strong for him now. "And yeah, it's a lot to take in. Like damn...I'm dating Ultraman" her comment makes Kenji giggle, his body trembling with laughter in her arms, "but it's nothing that we can't overcome, together" she remarks the last word. "And it's not something that it's gonna make me love you any less"

Kenji pulls away from her arms to make eye contact, his puffy eyes still able to show how soft they become when he looks at her. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out for you to talk. I just— I don't know how to ask for help" he admits, feeling a weight that he didn't know he had on his chest being gone.

"Well, admiting that is a big first step, so I'm really proud of you for that" she kisses his forehead, making him smile. "And we can work on that. We can search for professional service, that wpuld help out a lot. And, I'm always gonna be there for you" she reminds him, running her fingers through his hair.

She cups his cheeks, making him look at her in the eyes. "You're not a burden, Kenji. Your problems are valid and I'm always gonna be up to hearing them and help you in what I can and I can't do. We're in this together, alright? You're not alone anymore"

[Name] saw the way that Kenji's eyes swell with this again, a small pout on his lips as he gulps softly. He nods, slowly, letting her words sink in. He was not alone...he had her. It was not something that it would easily stick in his mind, but he'll try to remind himelf everyday. He was not alone anymore.

She leaned in, going for a kiss, and Kanji meet her midway, kissing her with yearn after all those weeks that they couldn't be together, that they couldn't touch each other. He could've barely see her with his busy schedule, and that also added to all his stress, all this mess. All he needed was to be in her arms.

Kenji takes one of [Name]'s hands that cupped his cheek and slide it down his shirt at the same time he traced her bottom lip with his tongue.

[Name] pulls away from the kiss, almost smiling when she hears Kenji whine and chase after her lips, desperate. "Hey, you really wanna do this? You're still tired, Kenji" she reproached.

"Please baby" he whines, looking at her eyes and then her lips, intensely. "I need you"

Kenji straddles his girlfriend's lap completely, letting her feel his hard cock against her stomach. [Name] gasps softly, looking up at Kenji's cute needy face as he starts rocking his hips softly.

She bits down her bottom lip before pulling him into another kiss where he moans.

They didn't even realize when did Mina lowered the lights. How could they? When they were so engrossed in each other's touch. The room was filled with the couple's moans and their skin hitting against each other.

Kenji was laying down on the couch, [Name] on top of him, as they hugged each other thightly while she moved her hips up and down, Kenji's dick hitting the right spot with every thrust.

Kenji's grip on [Name]'s waist just get tighter as he hide his moans in her neck. "Baby...baby" he calls for her, feeling his orgasm coming.

"I know baby, I know" she kisses his shoulder. "Go ahead, you can cum" she reassures, speeding the pace of her thrusts.

Kenji meets his girlfriend's hips midway, bucking his own as he hits the last thrusts before sliding out of her, ropes of cum shooting out of his tip, dirtying [Name]'s back, his thighs and the expensive couch under them. But who cared? He could buy another one.

[Name] brings her hand to her clit, making circle motions on it with her fingers as she grins on Kenji's abs. He manages to look up at her with cloudy eyes, brain still fuzzy with the euphoria of his recent climax. Still, his hands come up to caress her thighs, encouraging her to keep using him to get off.

"S' pretty" he slurs, running his thumbs on her skin.

"Fuck...Kenji" with his name on her lips, she ends up cumming with a few more motions of her fingers before collapsing on top of her boyfriend's chest.

They stayed there, in each other's embrace as they calmed down. Kenji's finger run softly down [Name]'s arm, his free arm wrapped around her waist.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you get off" he whispers suddenly, making [Name] chuckle.

"It's okay. To be fair, you're about to pass out now" she props her chin on his chest, looking at him with dreamy eyes. Kenji chuckles as well, not denying it. "Come on, let's take a bath and then you can finally have some good night sleep" patting his chest softly, she starts getting up and helps him as well.

"Are you gonna introduce me to the baby Kaiju tomorrow?" she asks as they walk together to the bathroom.

"Oh yeah, and she's gonna love ~ you. Just like I do ~" he litters her cheek with kisses, making her giggle.

"Come on, Romeo. Let's take a bath"

[taglist] @vinegarjello

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finelinevogue · 10 months ago

Text

overwhelmed

summary - you’re overwhelmed but luckily you have harry

pairing - boyfriend!harry x reader

word count - ~1k

“Hey, I came as quick as I could.”

Harry was ushered inside by Maya, your best friend. Harry was wearing joggers and a baggy hoodie - since it was 2AM and he had been sleeping.

“I’m actually slightly scared. You live like twenty minutes away and I only got off the phone with you like twelve ago…” Maya chuckled, shutting the door behind them.

“Yeah I might’ve already been out of the door and in the car by the time our phone call ended.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Well you certainly win boyfriend of the year.”

“Speaking of, where’s Y/N?”

“Curled up on the sofa.” Maya showed Harry the way through.

“Still upset?”

“It’s scary how she doesn’t run out of tears…”

Harry chuckled because he knew all too well.

Maya showed Harry to where you were curled up on the sofa, blanket tucked high up your body and tissue in your hand. You were staring at the room - not particularly looking at anything.

“Thanks.” Harry smiled at Maya and she took it as her queue to hang back in the kitchen.

Harry rounded the sofa and slowly came into your line of vision, not wanting to startle you.

“Hey, my pretty girl.” Harry smiled when he saw your puffy eyes and red cheeks from crying so much. “What’s all the fuss about, hm?”

“Harry.” You pouted and then started to cry again, cupping your hands over your eyes because you were so embarrassed he was seeing you like this.

Your relationship was 5 months new and even though you’d already had arguments and cried in front of each other, it’d never been like this.

This was full on sob and snot crying.

You didn’t even cry like this on your period.

“Hey, hey. What’s this about?”

Harry did in fact know what this was all about, after being rung by Maya when she’d gotten concerned about how much you were upset.

What’s strangest about this situation is Harry knew you weren’t even upset by something that had hurt your feelings. If anything, you were upset because you were feeling too much.

“Hello?” Harry answered the phone groggily, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the bedside lamp.

“Hi Harry. I’m sorry to wake you.”

“No, no it’s fine. Is there a reason you’re calling off Y/N’s phone, Maya?”

“Harry… Y/Ns a little upset.” Harry sat up in bed then, “Actually, a lot upset. I didn’t want to call but i’m getting kind of worried.”

“What’s happened? Is Y/N okay? Are you guys safe?”

“Yeah we’re in my house. It’s just, we had quite a bit of wine to drink and got to talking about relationships and then Y/N started talking about you. At first she was all giddy and happy but then she started getting herself worked up about how perfect you are and how she doesn’t think she deserves you.”

Harry liked the thought that you liked him a little bit more than you lead on, but he didn’t like that it came at the expense of your anxiety. Anxiety you had tried so hard to overcome from previous relationships.

“Can I come over?” Harry asked, already getting himself out of bed.

Harry sat on the sofa next to you, picking you up gently so he could situate you in his lap. You didn’t take long to become comfortable, by throwing your arms around his neck and burying yourself into the safe crook of his neck.

“Ssh, shh. I’ve got you.” Harry kept repeating.

He rocked you ever so gently, just allowing you the comfort of being held.

“You’re here.” You said after you’d settled slightly.

“I’m here.”

“You’re the best.”

Harry smiled at that.

“I like to think so.”

You stroked his chin stubble, finding a strange calmness to the grizzle.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“No, but I am.”

“I don’t want you to be. Means you’re sorry about the reason you were upset in the first place and I actually quite liked the fact you maybe like me a little too much. If i’m being selfish.” Harry gave you a cheeky smirk that had you calming in an instance.

“I just got so overwhelmed.”

“I know.”

“Because… B-because….”

You looked up at Harry in his not-so-scary eyes and for once you found this part of a relationship easy.

“Go on.” He encouraged with a whisper.

“Because I love you.”

You smiled and felt your cheeks flush. Harry’s face copied your emotions and he leant down to give you a welcomed kiss.

“You love me?” He asked excitedly, kissing you again because he couldn’t deny himself.

“I do.”

“Hmm.” He giggled excitedly.

“Do you… do…”

“I love you. I love you. I fucking love you, Y/N.”

It was your turn to chuckle and let the tears well up in your eyes again.

“No, no, no. No more tears.” Harry was quick to rectify the situation by kissing you again, moulding his lips to yours like that’s what they’d been created to do.

“I feel five times more overwhelmed than I did before you arrived.” You said.

“Okaayyy…”

“But I also feel five time more safe and calm than I did before you arrived.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst

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damiansgoodgirll · 5 months ago

Note

DONT BREAK MY HEART PART 7 but make it smut 🥵🤭

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six

terror twins x reader (platonic) / the judgment day x reader (platonic) / drew mcintyre x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️family issues, fear or abandonment, fear of loneliness, nightmares, panic attacks, mention and talk of sex (?), some hints of smut, slow burn

don’t break my heart - part 7

you and drew took some time off from the company after what happened last time. you saw a side of finn that you never saw and it honestly scared you. from him treating you as a daughter, helping you overcome your fears and traumas to be the one who caused you more pain than ever.

you didn’t know what triggered him to get violent with you and, at this point, you didn’t even care to find out. rhea and damian understood why you weren’t going to be there with them and they couldn’t blame you. rhea was still shocked that finn raised his hands on you and she understood that you needed time to heal. they were both very concerned about you and even if rhea spoke - or more, threatened and screamed at finn - he didn’t see any wrong in what he did.

you texted a good luck message to both rhea and damian before you got comfy on your couch with drew next to you.

he huffed when he saw punk opening tonight’s raw, making you smile a little. you both watched what he had to say and you couldn’t lie that he was very good at doing promos. drew, of course, was pretty irritated and as petty as he is, he had to have the last word “can you take a video of me to post on instagram? punk needs to see his words aren’t a threat for me…” drew asked with his typical smirk on his face. you nodded, chuckling at his expression once you clicked on the camera and started recording. he turned serious, clapping at what punk said. he wanted to show who was really in charge and you couldn’t lie, this side of him always turned you on but you couldn’t let him know. you never even talked about sex so it seemed weird for you to tell him about how hot he looked while being so dominant. he posted the video and thanked you, complimenting your videographer skills “what you looking at?” he whispered, noticing you dozing off.

“oh, nothing…let’s keep watching the show, rhea told me she had some promos with jey and i’m so happy for her…” you tried to change the subject, knowing that drew’s thick accent and deep voice always made you flustered “i think jey might be good for her…”

“yeah, she deserves some happiness, just like you” he whispered, dragging you closer to his body and gently covering you with his blanket. his little gesture made you smile, as you laid your head over his shoulder, you couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you were that you had found someone as kind and caring and as drew was.

you both got comfortable watching monday night raw while eating popcorn. you were both ready to come back after a week of being at home - your home as drew crashed in and never left - and you honestly missed the feeling of being in the ring and training with damian and rhea. you’ve been in contact this past week but you missed their company and you couldn’t wait for them to be back in town so you could visit them.

as you watched rhea’s promo getting interrupted by finn, your body tensed a little. drew felt that and he gently caressed your thigh, almost as if he wanted to let you know that he was there.

“what you mean finn caused all of this?” you whispered watching how finn confessed all of his wicked plan to rhea. he was the one who told you that everything was going to be okay at summerslam and now he confessed he was the one to lure dominik to go for liv? oh, you were so pissed. he was the reason your family fell apart and, truthfully, even though it hurt, you were lucky that finn showed his true colours before it was too late for you “he’s so dead…” you whispered loud enough that drew was able to hear you.

“yeah he’s dead but you’re not going closer to him anymore in your life…” drew was still mad about the outcome of last week. he never saw you so shaken up. he wanted to kill finn for causing you all of this pain, for bringing back bad memories and unpleasant feelings and if murder was legal, he probably would have already done it. but you were his first priority and that night he took care of you. he held you while you were falling asleep and he calmed you down after you woke up crying from a nightmare. he was there for you.

“you should have listened to what he was saying to me at summerslam” you remembered “he said how he didn’t know about dominik betraying liv, how he cared for the group…and now, he just confessed that he was the mind behind all of it? how can someone be so manipulative?” you took a deep breath, already knowing the answer.

“hey, why don’t we focus on something else?” he asked, hoping that it would distract you.

“yeah, probably better” you laughed “please, enlighten me with how you are going to destroy cm punk at bad blood” you teased him, making him smile.

you loved how happy he was to talk about his feud with punk. he couldn’t stand the older man but knowing that he had you on his side, made him feel proud.

you talked about it for hours. monday night raw already forgotten, as an other show played in the background. your head laid on his chest while he was softly stroking your back.

you felt yourself getting tired and before you could protest, you fell asleep on his muscular chest. hearing a soft laugh before you dozed off, he kissed you good night and gently carried you to your bedroom.

he got comfortable on the bed, laying you under the blanket and him laying next to you, holding you as he turned off the lights and fell asleep.

you didn’t know what time it was when you woke up. probably around 3 am. it was dark outside and there was an uncomfortable silence going on that made your heart beat faster. you got out of bed carefully, trying not to wake drew that was peacefully sleeping next to you. with nowhere to go, you decided to hide yourself in the bathroom.

another night, another nightmare.

but this time it was more graphic. it wasn’t something that happened - no - it was something that your mind was making up, something so scary that you couldn’t control your tears. you were scared of your mind and all the dark thoughts that you were experiencing.

drew - of course - felt the moment you stood up from your bed and hid yourself in the bathroom. he was used to your nightmares and everytime it was different. sometimes you would wake up screaming, crying, sometimes you wouldn’t even wake up - he would find you shaking on the bed and he would have to wake you up - and sometimes you would wake up without making a sound.

but no matter what, he always told you to wake him up in case he wouldn’t hear you and everytime you did the opposite of what he asked. always hiding or closing you in yourself.

he heard your soft sobs and he immediately knew what was going on. knocking on the locked bathroom door, he was almost begging you to let him in. slowly, unlocking the door, you were met with his worried eyes “oh love…come here” he opened his arms for you, letting you know that he was there for you “another nightmare?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

no words came from your mouth but you didn’t need to - he understood perfectly what was going on. softly walking you to the bed, he laid with you, holding you in his arms as you cried.

“i’m sorry i woke you up…” you sniffled.

“don’t apologise, baby, never apologise for this…it’s okay i promise you” leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, whispering softly in your ear as he rocked you between his arms “do you feel safe sleeping again? we can stay awake and watch tv if not” he was so patient with you and you melted everytime he showed his soft side to you.

“we should sleep…we’re coming back to raw soon and with bad blood in just a few weeks, i wanna be okay for that…i have to, for rhea and damian, for you, and mostly for me” you loved how day by day you gained some little confidence, thanks for the amount of love drew always showed you.

“okay, let’s lay down my love” without leaving you, he kept holding your body in his arms. laying your head on his chest, you fell asleep quickly to the sound of his heartbeat.

when morning hit, you and drew began your usual routine, and so it went on for days and days until you were both scheduled to come back to monday night raw.

“can’t wait to see rhea and damian again…” you whispered a little excited as you were packing your bags. drew chuckled, it was becoming less rare to see you this bubbly and he loved it.

of course rhea texted you that damian and her would be on a different flight because their timing was very chaotic and so they forgot to book flights for the event. she couldn’t wait to see you, she kept in touch with you and sometimes you trained together but you also needed more time for you, more time for you and drew, to explore your relationship.

as you texted her that you would see her at the hotel, drew carried all of your bags into his car as he was ready for the airport.

“coming!” you shouted before making sure you took everything you needed and closing the doors.

you could simplify the word airport with pure chaos. you hated flying, especially when you had to go from florida to canada. from the warmest temperature to the coldest one. nine times out of ten you would always get sick because of the drastic temperature change. but drew took care of everything. from checking in your bags to looking for your gate, from buying you some snacks to eat during the flight to give you the window seat that was initially under his name. he did everything he could to make this flight comfortable for you.

“what hotel room do you have baby?” he causally asked you.

“uhm…357, what about you?”

“209” he laughed “why do they keep putting us on different levels?”

“maybe because no one else apart from rhea and damian know that we are together” you joked.

“yeah…” he laughed but he thought for a minute. what if you went public? would it be too early for you? would it make you uncomfortable? he definitely was going to bring the topic up but not now as he saw how stressed you already were, trying to find a comfortable position in your seat.

many hours later you finally arrived. car rental waiting for drew outside the airport was nothing new. you saw him signing off some paperwork and you immediately jumped in the car, not wanting to freeze your ass more than what you were already doing. chuckling, drew got into the car and drove towards the hotel.

“we’re gonna stay here for three days baby, will you make it?” he joked, seeing how hardly you were trying to keep your hands warm.

“i’ll tell you when i start transitioning in elsa” you matched his irony, making the both of you laugh.

as usual, drew walked you to your room first and helped you with your bags.

“i’m gonna go through the script again in the meantime…i can’t believe rhea and damian forgot to book their flights” you laughed. you actually could believe it since they always did that. when you were still in the judgment day finn was the one who took care of everything but now, with you even hating the idea of flying, with rhea and damian being always too busy with their lives, it wasn’t nothing new that you booked last minute tickets.

“i’ll go rest a little bit and then i’ll hit the gym, text me when you’re done with rhea and damian, let me know if i can join you for dinner or if they’ll kill me” he joked before kissing you goodbye, heading towards his room.

you definitely weren’t expecting that rhea and damian would be so welcoming with drew. dinner went smoothly, laughing and making jokes and for the first time, after the mess with the judgment day, as you look at them, you saw a family, a real family, that was going to be there for you, no matter what.

while rhea and damian moved to reach their bedrooms, you and drew took a few steps along the hallways of the hotel, holding hands and talking about the little things.

like always, he walked you back to your room and stayed there for a few minutes. he was visibly tired, from the long day he just had but nevertheless, he took time making sure that you were okay and safe in your room.

before he left he gently pushed your body into his bigger one, circling your hips with his hands. you stood up a little taller to reach his lips - a goodnight kiss as usual - and when he bit your lips you couldn’t help but moan a little into his mouth. you definitely wasn’t expecting that. you liked it, a lot, but his strong grip on your hips and his tongue teasing your lips were making you hot and very bothered as you had no idea on how to react.

“if you ever want, tonight or tomorrow night, my room is always open for you” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. with one last kiss he left, a cocky smile on his face while you stood there speechless.

with all that was going on with your life, you’ve never thought about that. the possibility of having sex with drew. sure, it crossed your mind but you never thought about it. and it was a serious thing. of course he wouldn’t wait for you forever, he had needs and somehow, being always so close to him, made you realise that you had needs too.

panicking, you sent a quick message to rhea and damian, asking them to come immediately to your room.

in less than five minutes they were both there, wondering what was keeping you awake.

“is everything okay hermosa?” damian asked.

“yes, no…yes and no, i don’t know i need your help” you felt like you were in your sixteens again.

“with what?” rhea interrupted sitting on your bed next to damian as you were pacing around the room.

“it’s drew…i love him, i really do and he loves me too…this past weeks really helped us a lot with coming to the conclusion that we want this to be a long term relationship” you saw rhea and damian smiling “but…there’s a thing we haven’t really talked about and i think i need your help on this…” you were embarrassed.

you remember how your mother first told you about sex, you were only nine and you felt like she traumatised you. talking about it with your friends at school always made you embarrassed. you just didn’t know what to say or what to do.

“we haven’t done…you know, that” you tried to avoid those weird terms that always made you cringe.

“oh” they both said in sync.

“it’s bad, isn’t it?” you questioned, your eyes moving from the damian to rhea.

“what? no…absolutely not, it’s not bad y/n…” rhea immediately spoke up “he loves you and he clearly wants to wait for you to be ready”

“he was here before and he kinda let me understand that he wants to do it…you know, and i want it too but i don’t have much experience, basically i never had an ex boyfriend, just some dickheads who just wanted a blowjob and i have no idea what to do!” you started pacing around the room one more time. the duo glancing between you and themselves “and i know that if i tell him that, he would probably laugh…he’s a grown man after all” defeated, you threw yourself on the bed.

“that’s nonsense…” damian spoke with his gentle yet strong tone “he loves you and no matter what you say, he will never judge you or laugh at you…if you two want to have a long relationship, you gotta talk about this…he will be patient with you and who cares if you’re inexperienced, he will show you…you have all the time in front of you to learn, you’re young” damian soft voice made you realise that everything he said was true. you needed to talk about it with drew, you wanted to talk about it with drew.

“you’re right…you’re always right” you said making him chuckle.

“hey…you do you, do what you feel comfortable to do, no one will pressure you, okay?” rhea’s loving eyes stared into your look.

“i will, i promise…thank you” you were so glad to have them by your side.

“if you need anything, we’re a couple of doors away” damian said before kissing your forehead and leaving the room, followed by rhea.

needless to say, you stayed awake all night thinking about the duo’s words. maybe, tonight after the show you will find the courage to talk with drew.

drew texted you first thing in the morning, asking you if you were riding with him to the arena. accepting his offer, you met him down in the parking lot. with his cocky smile, he greeted you with a big hug and gentle kiss.

“have you slept good?” he asked.

“yeah…” you tried to fix your eye bags with some make up and thankfully, drew didn’t notice.

the ride towards the arena was silent but comfortable. one his hand was placed upon your thigh, gently squeezing it and sometimes drawing random circles on your skin.

“are you ready for tonight?” he asked, waking you up from your thoughts.

tonight? “what…tonight?”

“yeah the show” he laughed “we’re so close to bad blood…you sure you have slept?”

“oh yeah, the show…it’s probably gonna be the same boring story…damian has a match against dom, he’s definitely gonna crush him and then the budget day will crush damian, then rhea and i have come to the rescue, making those cowards run away” you knew how it was going to happen because that was everything you’ve been doing for the past weeks. you didn’t know how to feel, knowing that you would have to face balor, you didn’t wanna see him.

and so it was as you said. you almost predicted everything, except for the part where liv would hit rhea’s injured leg and so it was just you standing in front of rhea and damian as they were both laying there, inside the ring.

finn smirked, making you feel very uncomfortable. he had that sadistic smile he had the night he hit you.

“you can’t run…you can’t hide” he smirked, laughing at you.

at this point you weren’t even sure what was going to happen. liv didn’t attack you, she was the only one that logically would have attacked you. instead finn took a few steps forward, making you back up.

he was right - nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, especially since rhea and damian were laying injured behind you and the only thing that was stopping the judgment day from hitting them was you.

with the little strength he had left, damian reached out for you and threw himself over your body, the same way he did with rhea, when he saw that finn was ready to hit you.

he promised he would have never left finn hurt you again and so he saw the moment and took the hits instead of you.

in the meantime, jey uso music echoed through the arena, making people cheering and screaming. when they saw him, the group immediately ran away. but the twin didn’t care, his priority was rhea, and you two.

as damian helped you standing up, you couldn’t control your emotions and you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him.

“are you okay?” you whispered.

“yes, are you?” he looked down into your eyes and when he saw you nodding, he held you close.

“thank you…for protecting me” your voice trembled.

“i promised you, he would never lay his hands on you ever again” his tone was serious and you could tell that this wasn’t over.

you helped him backstage as rhea was being helped by jey. medical staff immediately went to check upon the duo as you and jey waited for them to be cleared. worried for them, you couldn’t sit still and jey tried his best to calm you down. your mind kept replaying the scene where damian covered you with his body, taking the hits for you.

“…hey, they’re gonna be okay” jey kept whispering, seeing how worried you were.

twenty minutes later and they were both finally cleared. damian was okay, rhea��s leg was still injured but the doctor told her that she would be recovering before bad blood so she wasn’t that worried.

they walked out, jey talked with rhea before going to get ready for his match. you went with them and when you all entered rhea’s changing room, you saw rhea being pissed. she was pissed with liv and the judgment day. she couldn’t stand them anymore.

“i can’t wait for bad blood…i’m gonna whip her ass, i can’t stand her” rhea kept mumbling.

“i can’t believe finn had the nerve to stand in front of y/n like that! he’s dead! i can’t wait to have my hands on him at bad blood” damian was angrier than rhea. talking as if you weren’t there, you let them, knowing that they needed to let their frustration out. as they were talking, your eyes were focused on the screen in front of you. drew was next and you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked that night. the way he spoke, his thick accent making everything ten times hotter. the way his eyes tried to be mischievous but deep down you knew the truth and he was a softie. everything from the way he was looking was making you hot. rhea and damian were trying to talk with you but you were too focused on the tv that you didn’t even know what they were saying.

“y/n!” rhea screamed a little too loud, making you jump on your spot “i asked you, do you come back with us or do you wait for drew?”

“uhm…you guys go, i’m gonna wait for him…have a goodnight” you smiled before hugging them both.

your eyes never leaving the screen, you couldn’t wait for drew to come backstage. feeling the need to be in his presence, to hug him and touch him.

patiently waiting for his segment to finish, the moment he came back to his locker room, you waited for him to shower and get ready. he was quick so you gave him 10 minutes before barging into his room.

“hey darling” he smiled seeing you there “are you okay? i saw what happened there with finn…i’m so glad damian was there to protect you” he was concerned.

“yeah i’m okay, thank you” you smiled “i loved your promo”

he was surprised but not that surprised “thank you” he always knew how much you struggled with words - preferring physical action instead of words - so he was happy to hear you say that “what do you think if we go back to the hotel? eating something and then sleeping? i’m busted” you nodded, wanting to be alone with drew as much as possible.

the ride took less than expected, your eyes darting between the soft rain outside and drew’s focused face as he drove.

“my room or yours?” he asked once you got into the hotel hall.

“yours” you didn’t know where that confidence came from and he was surprised as you were but he couldn’t say no to you so you both walked towards his room.

he gave you some of his clothes so you could change and be more comfortable and once food came, you both ate talking about the show. you could tell he was excited about bad blood too. and you hoped he could take home the victory, he wanted this feud with punk to be over and he wanted it to be over at bad blood.

after you were all done, full and satisfied with the amount of food drew got, you both comfortably laid on his bed, watching whatever show the tv was playing - not that you were paying attention to it.

“i’m proud of you” he broke the silence “the way you stood up in front of the man who hurt you, in front of finn…the fans don’t know what happened but i know, and i’m so proud of you” his smile was genuine. his words making you lean more into his touch as his hand was on your back.

“thank you” you whispered “it means a lot to me…” you looked up at him and saw his look moving between your lips and your eyes. you couldn’t wait anymore as you’ve been waiting impatiently all day long to be in his arms, so you lifted your head up and softly kissed his lips. you felt him smile into the kiss, his tongue teasing you.

“i can’t get you out of my head y/n…don’t know what spell you put on me” he whispered against your lips making you chuckle.

“a witch never tells her secrets” you teased him back, making him smile.

“i just love the taste of your lips on mine, the way your body fits perfectly into my hands, the way your skin feels against mine…you’re a good witch because i never want that spell to end” he teased one more time before diving his lips back onto yours.

in a swift move, he helped you sitting on his lap, so now your hands were both teasing his hair as his bigger ones moved to hold your hips down. few kisses turned into a full make out session and his warm hands started teasing the hem of his t-shirt that you were wearing. you felt his fingers over your skin, on your back, moving over your stomach and hips. the sudden sensation of his teeth biting your lower lip made you whimper in his mouth, grinding your hips lower, you accidentally brushed over his length. feeling him growing harder and fuller, drew softly moaned over your lips.

you took a few seconds to watch at him, his eyes closed as he was taking in everything that you were willing to give him.

“drew…” your soft voice called him.

he opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile on his face “tell me love…”

how were you going to tell him? you didn’t want to ruin the moment, everything was going well, everything was romantic and you didn’t want to set the mood off.

“well…” words caught in your mouth.

he took one look at you and realised what you were going to say “we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, i’m happy as long as you’re comfortable” his words were genuine and you found honesty in his voice.

your heart melted “i really wanna do it, but..i’ve never uhm, done it? i mean i did but at the same time i have not and i don’t know what i’m doing…” you blurted out panicking a little, making him laugh.

“shhh, it’s okay baby…i wanna take care of you and i’ll show you everything you want, i promise” you couldn’t believe how patient he was with you and you loved him even more “but not tonight baby…when you’re ready”

“okay…” you whispered, a soft smile on your face “but i really enjoy kissing you…”

your words made him laugh as he smiled into the kiss, gently laying his lips over yours again.

you knew you were safe with him and no matter what, he was going to be there for you.

your mind was too focused on bad blood, so maybe, after the event you would have experimented something with drew.

your only fear was - what if everything goes down? what if rhea loses? what if damian loses? what if drew loses? what if the events of that night were going to change your future forever?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

i’m sorry it took so long but with me being sick and my mom being sick i hadn’t much to myself but now i’m back! let me know what you think and if you have ideas for the next chapter please let me know

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