#soothing hammering rain

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Top 5 MOST Relaxing Dense Rain Hammering on Tent (Sleep Hygiene) Soothing キャンプ Heavy Rain Sound

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wanna be yours || rhaenyra & daemon targaryen x f!reader

Rhaenyra Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader/Daemon Targaryen 18+ MDNI! summary: scared of thunderstorms you seek shelter in the confines of your sister's chambers. but things quickly escalate and you find yourself forgetting all about the storm w/c: 8.2k tw: SMUT, 18+, plot? what plot?, INCEST, threesome, slight breeding kink, loss of virginity, cunnilingus, nipple play, some choking, creampie, rough & gentle daemon, slight ooc daemon, lost the plot about half way through tbh, not proof read

a/n: havent written in a while my bad yall the claws of depression got me and then i got a job (booooo). promised a rhaenicent oneshot but yall got this instead im so sorry ((your honor i’m working on it i swear!)) second time ever writing smut so please be kind, any comments or suggestion for improvement feel free to let me know <3

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A storm rages outside the walls of Dragonstone, the ocean and sky bashing against the windows of your chambers. They howl and thrash relentlessly, the rolling sound of thunder striking your heart with fear. As a child it reminded you of dragon roars soothing your unease but now it gave no such comfort.

Most nights when you had resided in the Keep the maesters would inform you of an approaching storm and you would sneak into your fathers chambers and read. You’d read passages of your favorite books and poems aloud to him. Whether he was asleep or awake never bothered you, you simply appreciated his presence. 

Another cry of crackling thunder falls upon your ears causing your heart to hammers in your chest. You silently wish you were not alone feeling as though you were a child, small, powerless, and frightened of the world. If you were in King’s Landing you could simply walk to your fathers chambers and let the storm rage on. But as your luck would have it you were miles away. 

For the past few months you had been residing in Dragonstone as a ward to your sister and her husband. You had loved every minute of your stay up until tonight, in hopes of alleviating your fears you shut your eyes trying to forget about the storm outside. 

Your thoughts are scrambled for a moment before you begin to recall your stay in Dragonstone. You’ve made an array of memories from tutoring Jacaerys in High Valyrian to games played with Joffrey and Viserys to your name day celebration. While you try to recall the many more you had, your thoughts are interrupted by the piercing sound of striking lightning. 

It hurts your ears sending a shiver down your spine, Rhaenyra crosses your mind but you know she is lying with her husband—who would waste no time in making a jest out of your fear. You want to banish the possibility of seeking shelter in Rhaenyra, after all you were far too old to sneak into her chambers. But as another flash of lightning bellows through the sky you could no longer stay still. Fear and anxiety guide your movements as you stand and grab the cloak at the end of your bed.

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The castle isn’t as frightening as the Red Keep under the cover of night, yet you still move quickly through its large cold corridors. With shaking hands you make a valiant effort to knock gently on the giant doors of your sister's chambers, pausing to hear for any movement but none comes. 

With no response you knock again this time with a bit of urgency. You don’t have the luxury of waiting for a response as thunder echoes through the stone causing you to yelp. Without thought you push the door open uninvitedly stepping inside. You do your best to shut the door quietly unsure what to do next. The thunder had passed and yet the patting rain could still be heard. You had not thought this far ahead, what were you supposed to do? Sneak into her bed? 

The room is dark, lit by the beams of moonlight that pour in, it’ll take some moments before your eyes adapt to the shadows of the night. Before you could think to move the sound of rustling and a sword unsheathing alert you of a presence. You need not see who it is to know it is your uncle Daemon. 

You curse yourself turning to face him. He holds his sword pointing it towards your chest and it should frighten you but the storm outside threatens you more than he does.

“There is no honor in killing a man while he sleeps”, he says, stepping into the light of the moon ready to strike your unrecognizable form. 

“I do not intend on killing you Uncle”

At your words his sword drops, “Sweet Dragon, why are you sneaking into our chambers?”

You’ve come to grow accustomed to your moniker slipping from his mouth in a mocking manner, but tonight his voice holds no ill intent. 

Lightning cuts through the sky in a loud shout before you can respond. Your skin crawls and you’re trying to keep your voice from wavering, “It’s quite loud”

“Are you frightened?” he asks, stepping towards you. His eyes bore into yours and under the moonlight it’s as if they are glowing. 

Your heart stammers and you shake your head in embarrassment, clearly lying. A small grin spreads against his lips and you know he sees right through you. The thought and his gaze becomes too much for you to bear as your eyes fall onto the floor. 

“There is no one around to pretend for”, he places his hand under your chin as he tilts your head up, to once again meet his gaze. His gentle demeanor disarms you, most times he’s brutish, arrogant, and entirely uninterested in you. 

“I am merely skittish . . .” you clasp your hands behind your back trying to appear more collected than you felt. 

He looks you over, his eyes sparkle in the moonlight only this time you’re unable to avert your gaze. His fingers hold you still and a sinking feeling of being prey washes over you.

“Rhaenyra?” he asks 

The voice of your sister emerges from the darkness surprising you, “Yes, my love,” 

“It seems our intruder is our favorite little princess”, his fingers trace your jaw, concentrating his eyes on your lips. 

Fear is an afterthought as an indescribable feeling crawls up your body. Your stomach flips under his touch and you fear to know why. 

Rhaenyra says your name, “Come here” 

Without a second thought you walk towards her voice, your eyes now adjusting to the moonlight making out shadows in the darkness. 

Rhaenyra sits upon her bed, furs laid spread over her lap she smiles fondly as you approach. 

Once you’re before her she instructs you to sit, “Has the storm unnerved you?” she asks, placing her hands on yours. They’re soft and her touch is almost enough to make you forget why you had entered her chambers to begin with.

“It is quite loud” 

“Yes you have said that already” Daemon says. His approach has gone unnoticed by you as he stands opposite of Rhaenyra. The side of the bed you assumed he slept on. 

“I read to father during storms,” you admit sheepishly

“Oh you poor sweet girl” she coos, “Would you like to read to us?”, you nod almost enthusiastically, “Come then” she pulls you forward unfastening your cloak. 

The warmth of her hands on your exposed shoulder sends you into a panic. Your septa had made it clear how your virtue was to be maintained until you married. No living eyes were to be set on your chaste skin but your future husband’s and yet you sat next to your sister who threatened to stain your skin. You tremble under her touch unsure how you could deny her. 

Grabbing her hands you halt her movements, “I’m only reading, I’ll be returning to my chambers once the storm passes”

“Of course” she agrees, “But while you are here my husband and I can keep you warm, as can the furs” 

Her smile kills your resolve and like a puppet in her control you cave in, Rhaenyra had always had that effect on you. You thought so highly of her and loved her dearly of course you were always eager to please. Any want or command uttered by her and you’d comply instantly. 

Removing your hands from hers, the cloak falls from your shoulders and she tosses it aside. You shiver as the cold air comes in contact with your bare skin. The nightgown you wore was less than modest, showing more skin then was appropriate for a lady let alone a princess. The feeling of being gawked at consumes you—their eyes burn into your skin.

“Come here princess” Daemon’s voice makes your knees weak. In the moonlight you see a smile on Rhaenyra’s lips, you take it as encouragement and crawl onto the bed. You settle between both their bodies but Daemon tugs at you pulling you towards him, the movement causes your nightgown to slide up your thighs exposing more of your skin. 

If your septa could see you now… you cringe at the thought mortified. Your heart patters rapidly, Gods if it kept beating you were sure Daemon and Rhaenyra were going to hear it. 

If Daemon notices your exposed skin he doesn’t show it, he rather seems preoccupied with adjusting you before him. His legs spread as he sat you between them, his chest pressed against your back as he loomed over you. 

He grabs at your sides pulling you closer to him, and if your heart didn't explode before it exploded when you felt Rhaenyra lips kiss your shoulder then rest her head where she had kissed. 

Your mind and heart betray you as you become a victim to their siren song. You’re a vision of adultery and sin, it’s wrong–unbecoming of a princess and yet you do nothing to stop them. 

With his left arm Daemon keeps you tucked under him and he wraps his right around Rhaenyra who nestles into your shoulder. You had not thought this was where you would find yourself at the beginning of the night. 

The storm is a long way from your thoughts as you try to figure out how your body fits into theirs, if it could. You’re against both of them unsure of how to move. 

You feel Daemon reach for something, “Read this” his breath touches your ear as he places a book on your lap. Being caught between them you had almost forgotten how you ended up practically on Daemon’s lap. 

Picking up the book you read the title, The Mythos of the Land Beyond Essos: Yiti. The book provides a much welcomed distraction, you had heard of Yiti before but only in passing from Lord Coryls. 

“Is it real?” you ask absentmindedly to no one in particular

“Of course it is, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra says, slithering her arm over your lap fully intrapping you in their hold 

Opening the book you were met with half of a map littered with cities and towns you had never heard of. As you turn the page the book's wear and tear is visible, it was clearly loved. For a moment you wonder if it was Rhaenyra or Daemon who loved it. Your thoughts like many times throughout the night are interrupted by thunder and relentless down pouring of rain.

You jump frightened hearing a chuckle come from Daemonand who places a kiss on your hair Any other night the gesture would have been ill fitting and strange but tonight it brings you comfort.

“Read” he gently commands and like an obedient dog you do

You read through four pages undisturbed, your voice only occasionally interrupted by the storm outside that is until you feel Daemon’s fingers on the exposed skin of your upper thigh. Gentle thoughtless traces of his fingers over your flesh. 

His touch makes you acutely aware of their bodies pressed against yours, body heat and furs warmed you like no other. With every hound of the wind and pounding of the rain you shook, which was made worse by their hands and lips trying to sooth you. 

Daemon’s left hand draws circles on your left thigh. Rhaenyra kisses your shoulder and any exposed skin she could reach. It was intoxicating her lips and his fingers. How were you supposed to read when there were two hungry dragons trying to feast upon you. 

The words you’re reading pass thoughtlessly through your mouth, once the information found a home in your mind now simply glossed over. 

Daemon’s lips fall on the nape of your neck sending a shiver down your spine and a soft whimper from your lips. 

In a small effort to keep them at bay you ask questions, it works for the first two questions but after the third Daemon grabs the book from your grasp and throws it. 

With the book out of their way they both grew relentless. Daemon kisses and nips at your neck without disregard. Rhaenyra readjusts herself to be able to access your collar bones, her lips beginning to trail up your neck and jaw. The furs had been tossed somewhere on the bed. 

“Nyra” you plead, nervous of what was to come next. Pressing your thighs together as a warm feeling emitted from your womanhood. 

“Shhh” she coos, kissing your cheek dangerously close to your lips. 

Daemon’s hand pulls your nightgown exposing more of your thighs to the night air. 

You should leave, you know you should but the thought of enduring the storm alone keeps you in place, “Perhaps…Perhaps I should r-read from another b-book” you try to stop Daemon’s hand pulling your nightgown from his grasp

Your efforts are futile as Rhaenyra interrupts you by planting her lips on yours. The action leaves you entranced by her, you melt into her lips moving yours against hers. She tastes like tea, warm and sweet. 

Under Rhaenyra’s spell you’re unaware of Daemon sliding your nightgown further and further upward. His hands stopped only to touch your inner thighs nearing your clothed cunt. You squirmed thinking of the septa’s words, the only man who can lay a finger on you is your husband.

“I can’t…I can't,” you say, breaking away from Rhaenyra and moving away from Daemon’s hold. You move away from them putting some distance between your sister and her husband. 

“Why not?” Rhaenyra asks

They’re feigning ignorance and you don’t know why, “I’m not wed” 

They both laugh and share a knowing expression. 

“Silly girl,” Daemon says, pulling you back to them, his hands dragging you back between his legs, “You are not to wed” his breath is hot against your ear as you try not to think of the heat that expels from his hands

Confusion is clear across your face, “But the Queen said—”

At the mention of Queen Alicent his grip of your flesh tightens, “To the Seven Hells with Alicent,” his hold on your flesh is half as painful as it is pleasurable. 

“You are ours”, Rhaenyra cuts in, “You shall not be sullied by hands that are not our own”, she plants a kiss on your shoulder.  

You’re unable to make sense of their words, you could not be theirs, you would only ever be your husband’s. And yet you could not find the words to say it aloud—to let them know you could not be sullied by them despite how desperately you wanted. 

Your attention is fully on Rhaenyra that the sneaking fingers along your jaw have gone unnoticed. Daemon’s fingers trace your lips before gently pushing themselves into your mouth. They’re cold as he presses them against your tongue and you can taste ash. The taste is almost telling, you think. 

“Suck” Daemon commands

You hesitate for a moment frightened at the possibilities of what would happen next and what they entailed. But all your thoughts fizzle away when Rhaenyra’s mouth bites down on your shoulder and without a second thought you do, making sure they’re thoroughly coated in your saliva. He spreads his fingers exploring your mouth before shoving them down your throat. The unexpected action leaves you coughing gagging, which earns an amused laugh from Daemon as he retreats his fingers.

“Good girl” he kisses your ear and you bite your tongue in order to stifle a whimper. His words ignite a fire that spreads throughout your body, it’s alluring leaving a blazing trail of want in its wake. The need to be praised has your head spinning, never had praise elicited such a reaction from you before. You want to continue being good and dutiful for Daemon and Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra sits in front of you both simply watching as her husband's fingers trailed under your nightgown. He pulls your small clothes to the side, the anticipation killing you as his fingers neared. It’s reprehensible you know, but you do not have the willpower to stop him.  

Your breathing stops as two of his fingers come into contact with your sensitive pearl. He groans as he feels the heat of your cunt, drawing circles with his fingers. You bite your cheek trying to stop yourself from moaning, leaning your head against his chest. His fingers begin to accelerate as he wraps your hair around his free hand pulling you to look forward.

“Look at Rhaenyra, sweet dragon, she wants to see you” 

Your eyes catch hers, they’re lit with fervent desire, a look you had never seen before. While you wish you could stare at Rhaenyra forever, Daemon's fingers have returned to their slow pace leaving you unfulfilled and on the cusp of pleasure.

Turning to face him you plead, “Please”, you’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for, only that you need more. Embarrassed by your plead you hide your face in the crook of his neck

“Please what princess” he presses against your pearl roughly 

Through a moan you speak, “Need more” 

You don’t see the delighted smile that spreads over Daemon’s face as he gathers fistfulls of your hair forcing you out of your hiding spot. His eyes fall onto your sister and you’re trying desperately not to let out a string of unbecoming moans. 

With another tug Daemon crashes his lips onto yours, the angel which he pulls you almost hurts but his mouth and fingers provide a wonderful distraction. The kiss is rough, tongues and teeth clashing. All the while his fingers never cease their attack and you’re quickly becoming undone. 

An unfamiliar pressure builds and you find yourself near a breaking point you had never experienced. The building pleasure has your heart beating out of your chest, it’s dizzying. But just when you think you can’t take it anymore Daemon’s fingers stop and he releases your lips. You moan out in disappointment.

“Perhaps you should ask the future Queen for assistance” he pulls your hair like a rag doll. Moving you as he pleases, facing you again towards Rhaenyra. 

“Nyra please”

Gripping your hair even tighter exposing your neck he whispers, “Where are your manners?”

“Please, your highness” you beg eyes glossed over full of want

Rhaenyra smirks, leaning into you momentarily allowing your lips to meet again which you welcome eagerly. 

The kiss is gentle at first, your lips moving in sync. Her tongue laps at your bottom lip and you shutter feeling Daemon ghosting his fingers above your aching pearl. When one of his long fingers threatens to enter your leaking hole you moan into Rheanyra's mouth. She takes the opportunity to kiss you with more vigor. Her lips are so soft and you’re entranced by her, thoughts racing, why had you never kissed her before?

When she finally breaks away she leaves you breathless and you get no time to recover as she pulls the top of your nightgown down exposing your breast. Heat spreads over your cheeks, never having been so bare in front of anyone before. 

The thoughts quickly leave your mind as Rhaenyra’s tongue drags against your hardening nipple. She uses the pad of her thumb to draw circles against your nipple, the sensation adds fuel to the fire in your core. She expertly nips and sucks only stopping to change breasts. 

“N…Nyra please … enough” you try to weakly fight her off. Receiving far more stimulation from your nipples then you thought could ever be possible. Instead she removes her mouth and replaces them with her hands, pinching and pulling without regard. There’s an electrifying pain that shoots down your spine, you had never thought your breast to be so sensitive. 

Rhaenyra does not argue, continuing to toy with your breast as she moves towards her husband. She practically purrs as she nears him a smile lingering on her lips, your eyes close shut as she continues her attack. Above your shoulder she kisses Daemon as if she were not inflecting the most deliciously painful pleasure. The drool that leaked out of you was as shameful as it was degrading. 

When they finally pull away Daemon pushes a finger into your neglected hole, earning a yelp from your lips. The sudden intrusion is foreign and stings, biting your bottom lip you try to keep your cries of discomfort from spilling out.

They work in tandem drawing pleasure out of you with their expert touches. The way you squirm beneath them is pathetic and a distant image to the woman the realm knew you to be. 

“So fucking tight” Daemon says adding a second finger causing your head to spin. He moves his fingers expertly in and out of your cunt. Loving the feeling of your velvety walls, he speaks to Rhaenyra but you can’t hear them. Deaf under the spell of your uncle’s long fingers, your eyes are shut concentrating on the flowering pleasure that was beginning to take hold. 

Rhaenyra’s hands stop their movements and you’re half heartedly aware of the way the bed shifts far too caught up in your pleasure. You’re unraveling completely melted into Daemon, unable to keep your moans quiet they fall from your lips like a waterfall. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach as Daemon stretches you open fucking his fingers into you, you’re left a blubbering mess. 

His fingers mercilessly hit every spot in your spongy cunt, you take every bit of bliss he gives you. Sweat gathers on your pinched brows, your skin feels hot against the cool night air. 

After an especially hard thrust he angles his fingers just right and your walls tighten around him. You feel as though you’re going to die, your breaths come in short quick intervals, you're on the edge of pleasure nearly going under. 

And as if he read your thoughts Daemon halts his movements, removing his fingers from your warmth, “So pretty when you moan” 

Your eyes open in disappointment, missing the feeling of being played with. But Daemon gives you no time to react as he orders you to open your mouth. 

“Taste your filth”

Obediently you do, his fingers are heavy on your tongue wrapping your mouth around them tasting yourself—you’re bitter and sharp unlike anything you had ever tasted. 

When Daemon decides you’ve had enough he pulls his fingers out and kisses you. 

You’ve forgotten about Rhaenyra until you feel a wet sensation on your pearl. With a moan your eyes shift downwards where she rests on her stomach between your legs. She’s excitedly lapping you up, her tongue sending you into a frenzy as she focuses on your puffy cunt.

Moments ago you had thought the height of pleasure was your uncle’s fingers yet it was actually your sister's mouth. 

“Ngh…Nyera” 

Your cries only invigorate her, she presses her tongue into your hole and the sudden motion has you bucking your hips. She laughs into your cunt, amused, sending vibrations straight into your pearl. 

She’s an expert at what she does, her tongue running up and down your slit. Sucking on your pearl with such vigor before fucking her tongue into you. This was not the first time your sister had done such a lewd act and the thought of Rhaenyra having done this before with another woman has jealousy crawling up your back. 

Distracted by Rhaenyra you don’t feel Daemon’s hand lowering, not until his cold fingers are pressing into your pearl. Two of his fingers begin moving sporadically electrifying every fiber of your body. You’re writhing in pleasure, burning with passion consumed by Rhaenyra and Daemon, unsure of how much more you could take. Coming undone as they pull you apart just to put you back together with nothing but their hands and lips.

You’re squirming, “Uncle, Ny…Nyra I’m—I”

Like before Daemon’s movements stop followed by Rhaenyra, you look between them dazed with need and confused. You pout in frustration, tired of being dragged to the edge of pleasure only to have it ripped away from you. 

In response Daemon turns you  to face him, “Fret not sweet dragon, we’ll give you what you want”. His lips fall on yours forcibly, kissing you as if you were the only thing able to quench his hunger. 

He moves off the bed and Rhaenyra grabs your hips, pulling you towards her gently pushing you to fall onto the bed backfirst. With your legs hanging off the bed she crawls on top of you slowly, taking her time to ravish your body with bites and kisses. Her teeth sink into the softness of your flesh and though it hurts you can’t help but moan. Goosebumps rise over your body as she sucks the skin under your breast. When she’s had enough she lifts her head to meet your collar bones, she wastes no time sucking on your skin. Making sure to leave her mark on your skin. 

The feeling is different yet so enticing, full of tenderness and lust. You’re moaning under her and you realize just how empty your cunt feels as it drips for Rhaenyra. 

You need more, desperate for it your hands move not entirely sure of what you are doing only knowing you needed more of her. You pull Rhaenyra’s nightgown trying to get it off. But only managing to pull the top of it revealing her breasts. You make quick work of taking them in your hands, they’re soft and firm, plump from having been filled with milk many times. 

Her mouth releases your skin as she moans

“My two pretty nieces playing with each other, I could die a happy man right now” Daemon stands behind your bodies. His hands touch your thighs repositioning your body how he’d like. Your clay in his hands—pliable—letting him mold you however he likes rendering him full control of your being.

He slides what you can only assume is his cock between your folds moaning as he does so. Warning drums sound off in your ears, you should put a stop to the night's debauchery and end it before you’re ruined forever. But your inhibitions are lowered and you couldn’t exactly care to think what a septa or the realm would think. Not when you were pinned between Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Rhaenyra adjusts herself above you, her knees resting on either side of your hips, giving Daemon room to do as he pleases.

“How do you feel princess?” Her voice is laced with teasing affection. You are unsure how to respond if you could at all, focused entirely on the sensation of Daemon’s cock pressing against your cunt. 

He gives you no warning as he pushes the tip of cock into your weeping cunt, it’s tight and uncomfortable. The intrusion is painful; it feels like you’re being pulled apart, like your body was being set aflame. 

“Fuck” the word falls from Daemon’s lips like a prayer

The fur under you is balled in your fists trying to ease the pain, tears form in your eyes 

“Dae–”

He shushes you, “The pain will lull soon” 

“Be good for uncle, won’t you sweet girl?” Rhaenyra asks kissing along your neck

You’re nodding 

When he fully sheaths himself a painful sob escapes your lips. Your eyes are shut trying to weather the storm. You’re half frightening he’ll start fucking you, the pain would surely kill you. But he does not move, allowing you a moment to become accustomed to his length. 

“Gods, you’ve been keeping such an amazing cunt from us” he says after a moment, slowly he begins to move. Pulling himself out before gently pushing himself back in. 

The first few thrusts send shockwaves through your body. In an effort to distract you from the discomfort Rhaenyra plays with your breast. Nipping one with her mouth while she rolled the other between her thumb and forefinger. You shudder at the stark differences in sensations, like ice and fire you’re teetering the line between pleasure and pain. Tears fall from your eyes as you clenched tightly around Daemon’s cock, Rhaenyra kisses them away. 

The longer Daemon continues his intrusion the faster the pain soothes into a warm pleasure. When a moan escapes your mouth he responds with a sharp thrust. Bliss rests heavy on your brow, the lewd squelching from every thrust only adds fuel to your heightened state.

Rhaenyra moans above you, her face contorted in ecstasy, she’s the vision of desire, a nymph of lust and pleasure. You piece together that Daemon’s fingers are exploring the warmth cavern of her cunt. As you watch her, her eyes find yours and she leans down to kiss you. It’s sloppy and full of half-sound moans. Her breaths begin to quicken and for a brief moment your uncle slows his thrusts to focus on Rhaenyra. Though you miss the feeling you discovered your love for watching your sister lose herself to your uncle.

Her moans only grow louder, she’s calling out her husband's name. Pushing herself into his fingers and suffocating you with her breasts. 

She shakes, eyes rolled to the back of her head with her mouth half opened. Her body is spasming above yours, moans fall from her mouth like prayers as she peaks all over Daemon’s fingers.

She falls on top of you, her head resting on your chest as she tries to catch her breath. Without thinking you caress her hair, it's soft and smooth and it almost startles you when she looks up to you. 

For a moment while you hold her gaze the entire world falls away, nothing else matters but her. You could spend the rest of your life just gazing at her—worshiping at her altar. A gentle smile appears on her lips as she climbs off your body, she moves towards Daemon kissing him passionately. You almost averted your gaze, the act felt so intimate it did not feel right to watch.

Daemon rests comfortably inside you as they kiss, the entire time you have not been able to pull your eyes away from them. And when it is over, as if nothing had occurred Daemon resumes his relentless pace. His cock is pressed deliciously inside you forcing you to see stars. He repeats his actions over and over again. 

“Perfect fucking tits,” he leans down to catch your bouncing breast. Wrapping his lips around your nipple as he thrust harder, lapping at it like a crazed man. His mouth is hot against your skin, his tongue rough as he suckles—as if expecting milk. The thought sends a shiver down to your cunt, causing your walls to flutter against Daemon’s cock. 

“I should put a child in you just to watch your breast swell” 

You know he shouldn’t, it’s wrong you’d be ruined–-more so than you already were—no man would ever marry if you had a bastard. But you can’t suppress the moan from leaving your lips, squeezing around Daemon like a glove. His hips falter for a moment as you choke his cock, “Fuck, does the idea appeal to you?” 

“We could keep her here, have her birth our heirs, keep her stuffed with cock”, Rhaenyra chimes and her words are enough to push you over the edge vibrating with pleasure. Your back arches off the bed as your body is consumed with ecstasy. You’re first ever release racking through you without mercy. 

Daemon moans, your contracting cunt making it near impossible for him to move. 

Your chest heaves as you try to regain your breath, try to regain the composure you had lost hours ago. 

But you’re given no time to do so as Daemon pulls himself from your cunt and flips you onto your stomach. His hands grip your hips as he pulls them up, your head is pressed against the bed. A blush creeps on your cheeks, the position is lewd, one you had overheard Aegon say was reserved for whores. 

Your thoughts dissolve as Daemon runs the tip of his cock along your sensitive wet folds. His movements leave you shuddering, wanting him to just get on with it. 

“Uncle please,” you whine pushing your hips back onto him

“So eager” his hands roam the expanse of your ass before sheathing himself once more inside you. 

The angle offers you a new pleasure, spread wide before Daemon like a feast at the ready for him to devour. Your walls flutter with sensitivity and yet it does not deter Daemon from pulling ropes of pleasure out of you. It exudes from your cunt tenfold and wrenches through your body unyielding. Like everything about the night it’s overwhelming bordering the edge of pain, but you’re too drunk off Daemon and Rhaenyra to put an end to it. Not when Daemon is molding your insides, as if to make sure no other suitor could ever compare. Not that you would ever want another suitor, you could spend the rest of your life beneath Daemon. 

Cold fingers slither themselves up your spine, snaking themselves around the side of your neck. Daemon’s touch is rough, callus hands pressed against the soft of your throat. Fingers stretch over the expanse of your throat, squeezing ever so lightly and you swear you see stars. An involuntary moan escapes your lips as you arch your back into him and it's all the encouragement Daemon needs to apply more pressure. 

Every thrust from Daemon has the air in your lungs exuding at a rapid pace. Your head starts to throb, all your senses are melting into one another. Daemon’s touch is paralyzing; you're frozen, stuck in a twisted masochistic purgatory and loving every moment of it. 

The grip on your neck tightens, cutting the little airflow you were getting. Above you Daemon leans down the heat of his chest against your back. He whispers something in your ear but you can’t hear anything above the beating of your heart. You’re not sure how much longer you could take, eyes half lidded and bordering tears—you’re barely holding onto consciousness. 

Just when the arms of unconsciousness threaten to pull you under, his grip releases and his thrusts come to a stop. Like a stone dropped onto the bottom of a river your head falls straight onto the bed. You try to regain your breath, through painful breaths the sound of Rhaenyra’s laughter reaches your ears. Through your lashes you look upon her, she sits before you smiling, eyes glowing under moonlight. 

“What a spoiled princess, receiving such fervent treatment from my husband” 

In response Daemon gently kisses your back. Slowing and ever so carefully moving his hips as he does so, you moan and Rhaenyra laughs again. 

“Come now, before I’m seething with jealousy” she moves. Her legs spread before you, nightgown exposing her flesh as she adjusted. You have an idea about what means to happen next but your inexperience has you doubting your thoughts. 

Your head lifts in realization that she’s settling herself, her clothed cunt only a touch away. You’re captivated by the allure of her covered womanhood. 

“Go on princess, serve your queen” Daemon voice rings out as he reaches to tangle his hand in your hair forcing you towards Rhaenyra’s cunt. 

She looks down at you, a seductive smile playfully lingering on her lips. She lifts her dress agonizingly slow, pulling the thin layer of her nightgown exposing the smoothness of her skin. When she's finally revealed to you in all her glistening glory you waste no time, diving right into her core. You’re half surprised she wasn’t wearing any small clothes but you don’t think twice about it, devouring her with novice eagerness. 

As you run your tongue through her folds you clench around Daemon getting your first real taste of Rhaenyra. She tastes poignant and sweet like a nectar you had never known but were growing addicted too. You kiss her swollen womanhood inhaling her sweet scent, pressing your tongue against it before swirling around it. Though you know your inexperience shows you eat her up like she was your last meal in the living world. 

Her moans are music to your ears, you look up to watch as her chest heaves. Invigorated by her pleasure you flick your tongue fucking it against her dripping hole, through a half open moan her eyes fall on yours. Her brows are pinched together in ecstasy as her thighs close around your head keeping you in place not that you could think of moving away. 

The world falls away as you bring your sister to the heights of pleasure, drunk by the feeling of her warm cunt wrapped around your face. It’s lewd and disgusting and yet you can’t get enough of it. 

In a sudden motion your attention is pulled away from Rhaenyra, you’re unable to turn your head but you feel Daemon’s cock retracting before he thrust it back to the hilt. You moan into Rhaenyra, sending shooting vibrations through her. She chokes out a moan as her hand comes down to grip your hair. 

She roughly tugs as you continue the intrusion of her cunt, pushing you further into her. Your nose bumps her puffy pearl as you move uncoordinated—distracted and falling victim to Daemon’s relentless attacks. The squelching sounds of your weeping cunt sends your mind into a frenzy, it’s filthy and obscene. 

“Such a good girl,” Rhaenyra purrs, “Had I know you were so good at eating cunt I would have had you on your knees long ago” 

Her words of praise have your pussy fluttering around Daemon who grunts in response. Your mind has gone completely blank, you've lost yourself knowing nothing but the hot liquid pleasure that Daemon and Rhaenyra were tearing out of you. They’re molding you into shapes only they knew—only they could touch. 

Daemon nestles himself so deeply you’re sure if you reach down you’d feel him in your stomach. You try to keep up your pace on Rhaenyra but with Daemon’s insistent thrusts you’re having trouble, sloppily licking and inserting your tongue into her. 

“Gods you were both made for my cock”, he grunts out but you can’t think of a single response. You’re pushed into Rhaenyra with every thrust, slurping her overflowing bliss. 

At her husband’s words Rhaenyra releases you from her grasp letting her legs fall away and you take the opportunity to rest your head on the inside of her thigh. Moaning against her skin coming undone on your uncle’s cock. 

“Is that true, do you think we were made for Daemon’s cock?” Rhaenyra’s hand drops from your hair and gently caresses your face. You can hardly process their words, unable to speak, lost in pleasure and too concentrated on the feeling of Daemon pulling out then stuffing you with each thrust. 

“Did the princess forget how to speak?” Daemon teases his hand coming down to slap the meat of your ass

“She’s cock drunk” Rhaenyra laughs, grabbing your hair and pushing you back into her heat, crying out as she does so. Your tongue laps over her absentmindedly but it’s enough to have her legs trembling. 

Roughly she tugs your hair, her moans becoming more frequent and you know she’s just as close to coming undone as you are.

Minutes stretch into hours as you’re used by your sister and her husband as nothing more than an object to achieve their own pleasure. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, unable to do anything but writhe in their grasps.  

With a final lap of your tongue over her womanhood Rhaenyra comes undone against your tongue. Like before her thighs press against your head keeping you locked in place. The sounds that escape her are so indecent you would have never thought sounds like that could come out of the realms delight. Greedily you swallow everything she gives you. 

The spell Rhaenyra cast over you is broken when Daemon spanks your ass again, but now you’re able to turn your head to face him. Head laying on Rhaenyra’s thigh looking back to see Daemon smirking, continuing his assault on your sensitive walls, hips slapping against yours. 

“Uncle…Uncle” you breathe out feeling the thundering shockwaves of pleasure crashing over you. Your words do nothing to divert Daemon, who continues to fuck himself into you. 

In a matter of short moments you’re overwhelmed by pleasure—pushed over the edge by a final slap on the ass by Daemon. You muffle your cry into the bed, shaking in elation. Your body feels like it was struck by lightning, overly sensitive by the pleasure that was just ripped out of you. 

Behind you Daemon unsheathes himself from the warmth of your cavern. Without his hands holding your hips up, you drop onto the soft bed. Mind left a puddle of mush as sleep begins to weigh your eyelids. Your consciousness begins to slip into the realm of dreams, not bothering to check on the wellbeing of your sister or uncle. 

The bed dips at both ends and you feel gentle hands adjust you against the bed, laying you onto your back. 

“Come here sweet dragon I’d like you on top when I release my seed”, Daemon says crawling above you. Your eyes flutter open at the sound of his voice and he smiles down at you. 

Rhaenyra laughs from beside you, “You’re insatiable. Can’t you see she is tired” 

He turns to her, “She is free to object,” then returns to you, “Do you object princess?” 

You know you should, not sure if your body could handle any more of what Daemon wanted to give you. He would surely tear you apart, leaving his marks on your body and spent for days to come—the thought sends a thrill of anticipation down your spine. 

His eyes bear into yours and there’s a hint of softness in them you had never seen before. Of the entirety of your stay in Dragonstone he had never once spared you a glace much less held a conversation with you. Yet now he wanted nothing more than to consume you and after the events of the night your mind has gone feeble. And the look in his eyes is all persuasion you needed, through hooded eyes you shake your head. 

“There’s your answer wife” Daemon shoots her a boastful smile, in return she laughs. His attention is drawn back to you with a kiss, it’s short and sweet but you’re far too tired to appreciate it for what it’s worth. 

“Come now,” he pulls you up with him maneuvering you on top of him as he lays with his back against the bed. Without needing to be told what to do you spread your legs straddling his lap. Daemon ushers your hips over his standing manhood, gently pushing the tip of his cock into your drenched entrance. 

Your sensitive walls make it near impossible for you to fully take him. He groans below slowly pushing you further and further onto his cock. Your body shutters as you take all of Daemon, every single one of your nerve endings on fire. 

After a moment his hands fall onto your hips guiding you to rise then fall onto him. The sensation leaves you trembling, unable to hold your head up, it falls on his chest. 

Your eyes are screwed shut feeling an aching pain coiling in your stomach as tears threaten to spill out, “I…I can’t” you almost sob

He shushes you running his hand over your hair in a consoling manner, “You can”

Tears begin to stain your face as your abused walls clutch against Daemon. He thrust into you slowly, grabbing your face so you’d meet his gaze. You’re fully seated on him as a tear falls from your right eye, he brushes a tear from your face bringing your face to his. 

“Such a good girl taking me so well,” he praises, burying his head in the crock of your neck. He leaves a trail of kisses up your jaw, “Could spend the rest of my life buried inside you”

His words shouldn’t thrill you as much as they do, yet you find desire pooling at your feet lulling the coiling pain. Pleasure comes slow and then all at once bliss blossoms through your body, the sensitivity of your previous releases leaving you with a heightened sensitivity. 

Without Daemon’s guidance you lift your hips and sink yourself back down. You moan when Daemon meets your lifted hips, moving your hands onto his chest straightening your back to sit yourself comfortably. It’s like nothing you’ve felt before, you’re completely full of cock—stuffed to the brim. The feeling is addicting as if your sole purpose in life was to be seated on Daemon’s cock. 

He fucks into you quickening his pace, your cries become louder and more frequent completely entranced in a haze of blistering hot euphoria. You’re pressing your hips against his trying to reach your peak again, chasing that intoxicating feeling. Perhaps Rhaenyra’s idea was not so bad afterall, you give them all the heirs they wanted.

“You’ve been such a good girl for us” he says rutting up to you, his grip tightening around your hips. Indenting into the plush of your skin sure to leave bruises. Your mind becomes a flurry filled blur as you begin to bounce on your uncle’s cock. Hands pressed to his chest trying to find some sort of grounding leverage. You find it, if only momentarily before Daemon’s tip brushes against a spongy part of your cunt. 

A loud cry emits from your lips, unable to hold yourself together any longer. Your walls clench around Daemon who digs his fingers further onto your skin. A groan bubbles in his chest; it's almost animalistic as it travels up his throat. Your eyes fall onto his, there's a dangerous edge of hungering lust that has your head spinning. 

A dangerous smile dances on his lips as his hands travel up your chest towards your bouncing breasts. He cups them, holding them for a moment before squeezing. You shiver at the feeling of his warm fingers on your cold nipples. 

Nearly falling apart at the sensation combined with his insistent thrusts. At the speed he’s hammering you with, you know he’s about to reach his peak. Your eyes close shut when his forefinger and thumb clamp around your right nipple rolling it between them. 

You feel your head explode with pleasure, it shutters through you with such intensity your vision goes white. There’s a brief moment where you think Daemon has fucked you blind. But when you see the ‘o’ shape of his mouth you’re almost thankful he did not, loving the image of him left at your mercy. 

The spasming of your high around him pushes Daemon into his own release. Your nails dig into his skin as he spills himself inside of you, his head thrown back in a moan as your cunt milks his cock. 

After a moment his thrusts become shallow as his elation wears off. He smiles triumphantly, hands sliding down to your hips. His glee should fill you with shame—regretful of the sinful actions that took place upon your sister’s marriage bed but instead you feel satisfied.

Breathlessly you collapse on his chest feeling his seed leak out of you. With your head against his chest you think you should run out of the room, flee to the walls of your chambers and hide from the grotesque act you committed. But exhaustion wears on your bones rendering you unable to move. Your legs tremble, tender from the amount of pressure they endured. 

Daemon says something but you don’t catch a single utterance. 

“Mhm” you hum too tired to ask him to repeat himself. He chuckles, readjusting you both on the bed, you moan as he moves—his cock still buried inside you. 

Your eyes close inhaling Daemon, the smell of leather and musk invades your nostrils. You hate that you find it comforting, hate that you want to stay wrapped in the arms of your sister’s husband. A man that was not yours and yet allowed to defile your womanhood. 

As if Daemon could sense your storming thoughts he traces his fingers on the small of your back. His touch brings you a strange solace, tomorrow you would feel conflicted about your blossoming emotions towards your sister and her husband. Tonight you’d sleep sheltered from the storm, tomorrow you’d face the reality of your situation. 

“Are you drifting off to sleep?” Daemon's voice is almost sweet but before you could answer the chamber door opens. The sound of footsteps entering alert you to a new presence but you can’t move limbs weighing you down instead you hide in the crook of Daemon’s neck. Mortified to have been caught in the bed chambers of the future Queen and her King Consort. 

“And where did you run off too?” Daemon nonchalantly asks his fingers still tracing patterns on your skin

“Refreshments my love,” the sound of your sister’s voice comes as a surprise, you hadn’t noticed the absence of her presence. But you’re happy she’s returned, missing the warmth of her body on yours. You lift your head to see her standing at the foot of the bed, a plate full of fruits and a flagon of wine in hand. 

“Who’s insatiable now?”

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Nightmares - Tyler Owens

The air was muggy and heavy, heat coursing through it. You could smell the tornado coming in the air; a smell that was 100% Oklahoma during the spring. The sky was a dark black and the clouds were forming into a funnel cloud above your head. The rain was slow to come but was coming down now. “Baby, my rigs rated for an EF1. I’ll be okay.” Tyler’s words echoed in your mind as the sirens started to blare and suddenly you were in an empty field.

Well, it wasn’t completely empty. The all too familiar red truck was in the middle as the tornado was descending from the sky. The tornado was a lot bigger than you thought it would be and it was headed straight for your boyfriend. “Ty!” You were calling out to him, the wind stealing your voice and taking custody of it. “Ty! You gotta go!” You were screaming at them top of your lungs, watching as the darkness enveloped his truck.

You were screaming until you were hoarse, watching in a panicked state as your boyfriend’s truck got picked up by the winds and force of the beast that was on top of him now. It picked the truck up and threw it like it was a hot wheel-

You shot up in bed, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your heart was absolutely hammering in your chest and your breaths were coming out in ragged, uneven pants. You could feel Tyler reaching out for you, starting to worry at the lack of your presence. “Baby?” His voice was deep and laced with sleep, his hand resting on your knee as he slowly pulled himself up in bed.

He heard your sniffles and your uneven breathing, his eyes snapping open as he got noticeably worried. “Hey, hey. Talk to me.” His words were soft as he enveloped you in a warm embrace, pulling you into his body. You were shaking and almost unable to speak, the dream right on the cusp of your memory. You could’ve even think of it without more tears streaming down your cheeks.

You let out a soft sob, your chest heaving. You knew he had a dangerous job and he loved it. But, you couldn’t help the fact that you worried about him. You had been through tornadoes before and knew just how dangerous they could be. “It got you. The tornado got you.” Your voice was panicky and cracking as you looked at him, a look that absolutely broke his heart. He knew you worried but he didn’t know it was this bad.

“C’mere..” He murmured out the words as he pulled you into his body, his own leaning over you as he coaxed you to lay down beside him. “No tornado is scary enough to get me.” He teased and sighed when he saw the glare you leveled his way, his fingers brushing through the hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead. “My perfect girl.. always so worried about me..” He whispered the words as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, his nose nuzzling against your clammy skin as you tried to push him away. But, it was to no avail.

He held your hips, pulling your back against his bare chest. He held you close, this arms enveloping you in a tight hug. He was grounding you and you could feel the air slipping back into your lungs. They were no longer burning and you could feel them expanding now with each and every breath you took. You could feel his arms massaging your shoulders and gently running down to your wrists as he tried to soothe you even more.

He pulled the blankets up over the two of you as you settled back into his warmth, feeling the thoughts of the nightmares slowly slipping away. Tyler was your person and it was even more obvious in moments like this. He was allowing his hands to soothe down over your skin, sliding up under the big t shirt of his you were wearing. “I love you.” You breathed the words out as you allowed your eyes to slowly slide closed, relaxing into his touch. “I love you more, angel.” He brushed his nose against the shell of your ear before he peppered kisses along your jaw. “Get some rest. I’m right here.” And you could finally feel yourself relaxing enough to sleep, knowing that he was safe and right next to you.

[pickledillytea]

Photo credit to: qvert.tumblr.com Thank you for your amazing art and for inspiring me to write my first Arcane/CaitVi one-shot.

~*~

MIDNIGHT RAIN

The rain was pelting down outside, hammering against the glass windows and at that hour it was a deafening sound echoing throughout the Kiramman Mansion. Some people would find comfort in the rain, find that it actually soothes them but for Caitlyn it was a maddening sound. A sound that kept her from drifting to an eventual slumber. 

She had stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, Vi draped over her like a safety blanket but the warmth emanating from her lover wasn’t enough to lull her to sleep, this time. She had shimmied herself from Vi’s arms, careful not to wake her and started to wander around the dark hallways of the mansion, no particular destination in mind.

Caitlyn of course having been raised in this house knew the ins and outs like the back of her hand but there were certain rooms she just didn’t enter anymore. Particularly those her mother frequented. It brought back too many memories but tonight she felt braver than usual. She stopped outside the music room and caressed the golden door handle, slowly twisting the knob until it creaked open, the hinges coming to life after not having been in use for months. 

The moonlight was strong enough to penetrate through the cloudy black skies and heavy downpour illuminating the room enough through the open curtains for Caitlyn to make her way around without bumping into anything.

She still felt her mother’s presence around the house but she especially could feel it in this room tonight. The faint smell of her distinctive perfume lingered and Caitlyn could see her mother almost as clear as day behind the grand piano, playing sweet melodies that had Caitlyn in awe and her dad in love. 

So much so fascinated by her mother’s talent that she sat her down one day and taught Caitlyn to read music and play her own melodies all before the age of 6 which she did with an expertise that could only be associated with being a Kiramman. The best of the best as some would say. But Caitlyn was just very determined from a very young age. 

Looking at the instrument now only brought a cloud of sadness over her. She hadn’t touched the piano in years and wondered if she even remembers how to play. She drags her finger across the top of the now dusty black hood of the piano, leaving a clean trail in its wake. Apparently no one has bothered to clean in here either. 

She hesitantly sits down on the cushioned chair, carefully lifting the lid. That too creaks. She runs her slender fingers over the black and white keys, scared to press down. It was probably out of tune by now anyway.

She tests her theory by pressing the first chord she ever learned and to her surprise it rang out clear and in tune. She tries another for good measure and sure enough that too is perfect. She then places both hands on the keys like she was taught and plays the first song she ever learned from her mother. A slow, sweet melody that brings tears to her eyes.

“I didn’t know you could play.” A raspy and sleepy voice disrupts her playing.

Caitlyn immediately drops her hands as if she was caught doing something she shouldn’t and turns just as Vi slowly walks over to her and sits besides her facing away from the piano.

“Don’t stop. It’s a beautiful song.” She says, looking at her hands.

“I haven’t played in ages.” Caitlyn confesses, feeling Vi’s shoulder brush against hers, a familiar comfort she has come to cherish more than anything these days. Vi’s touches was slowly but surely healing her.

“I couldn’t tell. It sounded perfect to me.” Vi says truthfully.

Caitlyn scoffs not really on the same page with that statement.

“Would you play it again? For me?” Her voice low and irresistible.

I would do anything for you, Caitlyn wanted to say but instead gave Vi a rueful smile before mustering up the courage to play again. She however chose a different song this time, something with a slightly more romantic feel to it, something she always imagines herself to play if she were in love and now seemed like the perfect time for it. She squares her shoulders and closes her eyes, seeing the sheet music in her mind.

The notes start off deep and low building into a light playful crescendo of melodies and runs and Caitlyn finds herself fully immersed in the song, picturing herself and Violet dancing in slow circles around this very room, close together, so close that they feel like one body moving, one soul intertwined.

She feels the soft weight of Vi’s cheek coming to rest on her shoulder while she continues to play. Her red hair is longer than she has ever seen it cascading down Cait’s arm, the tips tickling her forearm. She is tempted to run her fingers through them instead of having them glued to the keys but she is also determined to finish the song. Vi’s head is perfectly tucked into the crook of her neck, a warmth that seeps into her skin and boils down her spine.

Vi listens to the melody, lost in its beauty, letting the notes wash over her like a balm. She can’t help but to kiss Cailyn’s shoulder, sweetly to the rhythm of the music but that little bit of contact wasn’t enough. She lifts her head then and kisses the inside of Caitlyn’s exposed neck, eliciting a giggle from her lover but her fingers never falter on the keyboard. 

Vi takes that as a challenge to continue to kiss a little higher, just below her ear which has Caitlyn pressing the wrong note, the distraction enough to make her slip this time. She however quickly recovers, righting herself and picking up right where she left off.

Vi smirks, loving that she has this effect on Caitlyn with just the press of her lips which also spurs her on to continue. She turns slightly, pressing her chest fully against Cait’s arm and kisses the side of her jaw next. She works her way across Caitlyn’s cheek, peppering kisses all over before she stops short of the side of her mouth. 

Vi stays in that position, her nose brushing against the softness of Caitlyn’s skin, until she plays the last note. The sound rings out in the quiet room leaving an eerie quiet in its wake and she waits for Caitlyn to look at her.

When she does, their eyes lock and a sharp intake of breath is shared between them before they slowly come together in fusing of lips. Cait turns toward Vi and softly cups her jaw while they kiss each other in the dark room. Breathlessly they pull back from each other, staying only inches apart. They share a shy smile and Caitlyn’s thumb finds the indented scar on Vi’s lip, brushing over it gently.

“I hate waking up without you next to me.” Vi confesses in a whisper.

“I didn’t want to wake you with my tossing and turning.”

“I’d rather you wake me, Cupcake.”

“I’ll remember that next time.” Cait leans forward leaving a chaste kiss on Vi’s lips.

“Shall we try again then?” Vi proposes.

“To kiss?”

“To sleep. Get your mind out of the gutter, Kiramman.” Vi jokes, “However I do think we can combine the two in some way. How about kissing in bed until we fall asleep?”

“I like the way you think, Violet.”

~*~

PS, the song Caitlyn plays for Vi in this story is Berlin Song by Ludovico Einaudi

[yogurtkags]

congrats on the milestone, cid!!! for the event, how about kageyama with YOUR favorite premise/trope? 🫵

❝ STUCK WITH YOU ❞ — kageyama tobio

cw. gn!reader, implied friends to lovers, forced proximity (there is only one bed), mutual pining, comfort, confessions, not beta read. word count. ~ 1.2k synopsis. whispered confessions and hesitant embraces of a boy in love event masterlist

well shit.

“i can take the floor—“ the both of you splutter out at the same time, causing a little giggle to escape your lips and even tobio to crack a tiny crooked smile, both of your cheeks flushing a light pink.

“the floor’s so uncomfortable, it’s going to ruin your back and you’re not going to like it during practice tomorrow.” you pointedly remark, eyebrow quirked and hands on your hips, thinking you’ve won with your argument.

the rain pelts against your bedroom windows, little taps growing progressively louder and faster and as the winds howl and the trees sway, like a ticking clock counting down to a verdict.

you gave him the option to stay over with his best interests in mind, he can’t afford walking home drenched in the rain and getting sick right now with a match in a few days. but the idea of being in such close proximity for a night with the boy who seized your heart causes it to hammer anxiously in your chest, like butterflies emerging from their cocoons. maybe i didn’t think this through.

crossing his arms over his chest with a scoff, he grumbles matter-of-factly, “and let you go through the discomfort instead? no way in hell.”

once he's made up his mind, there's no convincing him otherwise.

he swears that he cares so much for you, he just doesn't know how to express it in words without being a little blunt and sometimes a little mean, but you know he has good intentions. you wouldn't willingly be friends with him if he didn't, at least he hopes that's the case— his stomach threatens to drop at the idea that he had possibly made you feel upset in any sort of way. it might seem dramatic, but he'd rather die than make you feel like you'd have to walk on eggshells around him.

“well if you’re so against it, we can…" you clear your throat nervously, eyes darting across the floorboards and unable to meet his, "...share?"

tobio's cheeks burn with the implication of your words. the two of you, in bed, together, just the thought alone is enough to cause his brain to short-circuit, leaving him in a stuttering mess and avoiding your eyes, suddenly finding the band poster on your wall very interesting.

you would've missed his quiet "okay" if you weren't looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction from the corner of your eye, his voice barely above a whisper, “but i’m pushing you off if you kick me.”

“excuse you, it’s literally my bed?!”

“dumbass.”

with a huff, you turn and crawl into your bed, rolling to the side closer to the window and grabbing part of the blankets, giving him some space if he decides to join you. facing away from him to hide your nerves and expression, you announce, "well i'm turning in now, it's up to you if you want to get in or not."

you try your best to play it off nonchalantly, but everything in your being prays and hopes that he does. every second that you wait, the faster your thoughts race, you worry that he only said yes to appease you, that you made him uncomfortable with your question, that you were getting ahead of yourself. maybe this was a bad idea.

the swirling tornado of thoughts in your mind was interrupted by the feeling of the empty space behind you dip with weight. it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves, but you focus your eyes on the raindrops trailing down your window, letting it still your heart, even if just for a little while.

as the two of you lay in silence, backs facing each other with a little river of a space between your bodies, neither dare to move even an inch. your senses are on high alert, taking note of every single movement, every breath, the fibers of your sheets feeling scratchy for the first time, just waiting, longing for something to happen.

the sudden flash of lightning and loud thundering causes a small yelp to slip out of your lips, flinching as the burst of bright light floods your vision and temporarily illuminates the dark room. your back lightly brushes against tobio's and you're quick to apologise, "i-i'm sorry, i was just shocked by that."

"i know," you told him some time ago that storms make you a little anxious, he remembers every little detail about you, committing it to memory, "are you okay?"

turning his head to look at you over his shoulder, his heart clenches at the way you shake your head with embarrassment, almost trying to make yourself smaller and shrinking your frame against him. you want to dig a hole and bury yourself in it, silently glaring and cursing at the sky and the dark clouds that inhabit it, why did this wretched rain have to make things weird?

with a sharp inhale, he bites the bullet and tests the waters, turning around and reaching for your hand. as his fingers brush over your knuckles, your breath catches in your throat at the delicate motion, the callouses and roughness feeling like light tender scratches on your skin, creating a gentle distraction to your weary soul.

it’s odd. you two were always close, but not like this, yet it feels natural. your hands fit together like pieces of a puzzle, yours cradled in the palm of his larger ones. in your vulnerability, you rest your forehead on his clothed chest, trying to ground yourself and slow your breathing, finding comfort in the rhythm of his heart thrumming against his chest.

tobio hopes that you don’t notice the speed of his pulse, and even if you do, he wishes you won’t bring it up for the sake of his sanity. before this, he longed for the day that he could hold you in his arms, but now that the time has come, he can’t help but wish it was under different circumstances, nonetheless counting his lucky stars for this opportunity to be there for you.

with tremoring hands, he pulls you closer and strokes your hair, running his fingers between the soft strands in a light caress, recalling the days when miwa used to do this for him as a young child riddled with fear. your body melts against his in relief, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, sinking into his steady hold and letting the rise and fall of his chest slowly lull you in a calm rest.

this feels... nice.

tobio thinks you look beautiful in this light, the faintest glow from the streetlamps below shining in through the sheer curtains and fanning across the apples of your cheeks. he almost gives in to the temptation of brushing his lips against your forehead but decides against it, settling with admiring your delicate features and letting his eyes trail across the fine details of your face.

in the quiet of night when he thinks you're asleep, he plucks the courage to whisper into the crown of your head, three words he's had on his mind for a while now, allowing himself to drift off into slumber with your soft smile pressed into the crook of his neck.

notes. mac my fellow tobio enjoyer, thank you for requesting our beloved blooberi boy and my favourite tropes (you know the way to my heart) ♡ i look forward to more screaming crying thirst sessions with you over mr tobio, much love to you !! (dividers: @/cafekitsune) reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[violetsiren90]

today is so depressing and scary and I was wondering if I could request some binnie gurt and comfort with the couple from the light in your eyes? ty in advance and take care ❤‍🩹

Pairing: Changbin/Reader (gender not mentioned, but this does reference the Light of Your Eyes couple)

Genre: drabble; established relationship; hurt/comfort

Summary: Sometimes everything is wrong...everything but him.

Content warnings: PG for content, but all my work is 18+ (minors, DNI); descriptions of feelings of deep unhappiness; implied dissociation; emotional catharsis; tears; hugs and being HELD 🥺❤

Word Count: ~500

Author's Note: Here you are, Anon! Today is indeed bleak, and I hope this helps even a tiny bit. Please take care of yourself, my friend.

Precious readers and moots: If any of you find yourself feeling hurt, despondent, and unsafe and need someone to turn to, please feel free to message me or send me an ask. Don't let anyone or anything induce you to doubt that you are so incredibly deserving of being seen and held.

You, each and every one of you, are so loved and worthy of it. 🧜💜

***********************

It’s not raining - in fact, there’s not a cloud in the sky. The autumn air is crisp and clear and the leaves hang brightly and decadently on the branches of the trees as you stand at your own front door. You can feel your features tugging downward in dejection, your body aching and shivering with the deep sort of unhappiness that feels like a chill as you hesitate to take your misery over the threshold.

It's not raining, but it should be. Pouring. Thunder rumbling somewhere afar as you stand in the torrent. Then at least it would feel right, and maybe you would feel like you belonged in that body, standing in that place instead of whatever this is - with the sunshine and the calls of the migrating geese.

Your lip trembles and your heart hammers with the adrenaline of anger and pain...

And then you remember.

He’d asked you not to do this to yourself, said that he wanted it. To share it.

So you curse at the sun and the gentle breeze and turn your key in the lock.

“Bin?” You call instantly, desperately, kicking off your shoes and tossing away your bag.

“Bin!” You drop your coat in the hall as your legs carry you with stumbling steps to his home studio.

When you open the door, he’s already halfway out of his chair with his headphones around his neck, dark lovely eyes wide behind his black-rimmed glasses, and when you reach for him he sinks back down and pulls you over his lap.

Strong arms circle your waist as his head tilts against yours where you press your face into the crook of his neck.

One of his hands splays over your back as he rubs it in wide, soothing circles. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, that will come later. Right now he holds you.

Some wrongs can’t be righted. Not by you. Life can be terribly unfair. It can be downright cruel. But you can be afraid and angry and confused and sad…and in his arms.

Releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your tears silently begin to fall.

He kisses into your hair.

His body is sturdy and soft and you breathe in cologne and detergent and the scent of his skin and you feel his chest expand and contract, silently beckoning your own to match its steady pace where you're pressed against him.

His presence washes over you and draws you in - deeper, softer. Safer.

Safe. Held. Of nothing required.

One of your hands slides up to tangle your fingers in the dark curls at the back of his head.

And then you’re not wishing for rain anymore. The warmth and peace feel like they belong to you - to your body, to your soul - even in your grief.

“I love you,” comes his gentle, deep murmur.

Not in placation, but in promise.

When you find your words again you’ll whisper those three in return, as you always do. But until then, and in every moment hideous or lovely thereafter, you’ll reach for Changbin, and he will hold you.

-Fin-

[endereies]

SOAKED THROUGH - MS

No Nut November - Day 6

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ Matt finds you outside, watching the rain and he decides to have fun with you

The last week had consisted of awful weather. Rain spluttered from the sky at almost every hour like clockwork. It hammered down on each of the windows, smashing against the glass harshly. The surrounding trees constantly ad their leaves dropping with the weight of the water droplets. The clouds were dark against the night sky that was dotted with stars. The orange glow of the street lights made it seem inviting.

That’s how you found yourself leaning against the door frame of your backdoor. You were protected by the overhang that allowed you to stand there without getting wet. The occasional drop that got pushed by the wind splashed against the soft material of your pyjamas. You hadn’t felt it, not enough for it to bother you.

The rain always reminded you of home. Whenever the rain lasted all day, your family would wind up together playing games and simply bonding. As you grew older, those moments came heard to come by. No one lived in the same house anymore, they had families, jobs. You weren’t going to blame anyone for life getting in the way, except life itself. Years went by without the rain providing comfort, unless it came from the ghosted memories.

The doorframe was lined with metal that sent a shiver down through your body when your skin touched it without warning. Somehow in the harshest of weather you found beauty in it. The cobwebs were covered in dew drops, plants and wildlife refreshed in the needed water. The way you’d find the odd light shine so perfectly as to create a rainbow shine through the water. It was something you could admire for yours.

Hours had lengthened into the night and by now it was early morning. When Matt shifted in search of you, he failed to find you along side him. The sheets were cold, your absence had existed a while. It wasn’t often you’d leave the room, for a drink, the bathroom. But never for that long. He grew curious, almost worried. He abandoned the covers from on top of him, grabbing a nearby shirt to trap his remaining heat. He didn’t care how he looked, he was more concerned about you. That was until he felt the chill from the backdoor, following with the sight of you against it. He heard the murmur of a small tune that stemmed from your phone next to you.

“Baby? What are you doing up…” His words slightly slurred with fatigue. It was audibly deeper with a rasp but nothing that didn’t scare you.

“Matt…sorry. Did I wake you?” He quickly shaked his head, drawing himself next to you. You leant into his touch, his warm palms contradicting the cold morning.

He pulled you into his warm embrace, burying his head into your neck, surrounded by your familiar scent. It was obvious he was weary from freshly awakening but the comfort of you next to him wasn’t something he was going to deny. “What are you doing here, aren’t you cold?”

“Not really” You offered him an innocent smile, one that turned into admiration when you stared at the rain once more.

“It’s really coming down, huh?” His breathe fanned your skin.

“It’s beautiful though. Isn’t it.” You mused, your eyes fixed on how the rain glistened in the outdoor lighting.

Matt’s attention was then drawn to the music that filled the silence. The melody was calming, soothing. “What are you listening to?” Before you could answer, he picked up your phone to see the beginning of a ‘Cigarettes After Sex’ to start playing. It was recognisable and he smiled at the familiarity. He watched as your hips swayed to the music, something you must’ve picked up subconsciously. The phone returned to its original place on the kitchen side.

He couldn’t help but find it captivating, the way your body so smoothly swayed to the song. His eyes lingered on you, taking in the small details. Your hair, your lips, the way your cheeks slightly redden in the slight cold.

He pulled away from you and took this as chance to stand outside the door, barely under the overhang.

“Matt?” You couldn’t inquire anymore before he spoke again. “Dance with me? Please.”

His hand reached out towards you, and you couldn’t help but give in to his infectious smile. It wasn’t practical, both of you weren’t in suitable clothing and with your feet against the concrete it was guaranteed that you’d get cold. Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care and before you knew it, your hand laid in yours.

A smirk covered his face as he pulled you towards him. Your hand landed on his chest, and he extended his other hand above your heads. With a flick of his wrist, you took it as a sign to spin against him, the twirl making your hair push out. The rain had immediately impacted you both and it was quick to see droplets fall down his face.

He brought you closer to him after you spun, your noses barely touching as the rain fell between you, the feeling of wet clothing stronger by far.

A stroke of air forces from your nose as you lower and shake your head. “This is stupid…” You chuckled slightly at the fact you two were awkwardly dancing in the middle of a storm.

“So? I’d rather be stupid with you.”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[koiiiji]

hideout

summary ; before Jinrang end up in jail, and on his way to become head of busan, he used to hide in old, dirty hotels rooms, hen things went wrong. just like today.

author's note ; i just can't get enough of him, im sorry!!😭

rain hammered against the window of the tiny hotel room in busan, each droplet adding to the rhythmic sound that blanketed the city outside. the dim yellow light from the single bulb overhead flickered occasionally, casting uneven shadows across the peeling wallpaper. musty scent of old wood mixed with the freshness of rain, giving the space an oddly comforting yet oppressive atmosphere.

Jinrang leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you pace the room. the tension between you two was almost palpable, charged with an odd mix of your annoyance and his unspoken curiosity.

“one bed?” you hissed, spinning around to glare at him. your voice was laced with annoyance, though exhaustion was quickly dulling its edge. “of all the places to hole up, this is what you find? and with one bed?”

he shrugged, feigning indifference. “it’s not like we had a lot of options, you know. cops and half the gangs in busan are on our tails. be grateful i found a place with a roof.”

“a roof would be fine if i didn’t have to share a bed with you,” you snapped back, dropping onto the edge of the creaky bed. “you’re lucky i’m too tired to care right now.”

Jinrang’s smirk deepened. truthfully, he’d been thrilled when he saw the single bed earlier. he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced every time you looked his way. not that he’d ever admit it.

you eyed the bed warily. “and where are you planning to sleep? the floor?”

“why would i do that?” he replied with a grin. “it’s a big enough bed. we’re both adults; we can share without it being a big deal.”

you rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath before standing up. “yeah, sure, of course...” you said sarcastically, still not believing he gonna sleep with you. “i’m taking a shower first. don’t even think about falling asleep before i’m back.”

Jinrang chuckled as you gathered your toiletries and disappeared into the cramped bathroom. the sound of water running mixed with the rain outside, creating a soothing symphony that he couldn’t help but relax to. faint patter of raindrops against the window blended seamlessly with the soft hum of the shower, filling the room with an almost meditative calm. but still, he couldn’t shake the image of you in the shower. it made him smile.

when you emerged, the steam from the shower followed you into the room, curling around your figure. Jinrang watched as you fished a spare shirt out of your bag, preparing to change right there in front of him.

“you’re not shy, huh?” he teased, propping himself up on his elbows.

you shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “turn around, idiot.”

with an exaggerated sigh, he obeyed, rolling onto his belly, so he was with his back now to you. “it’s not like i haven’t seen worse in the field.”

“doesn’t mean you get a free show,” you retorted, tugging the towel off and changing to dry shirt. when you were done, you cleared your throat. “you can look now.”

Jinrang turned, his dark eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than they should have. the oversized shirt you’d thrown on barely masked the weariness etched into your features, but to him, you still looked—

“what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “do i have something on my face?”

“nothing,” he said quickly, standing up to set his jacket on the back of a chair. “you should get some rest. we’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

your hair was still damp, clinging to the sides of your face, and your annoyance seemed renewed as you glanced at the bed again. “you’re still on about this sharing thing?”

“i’m not moving,” Jinrang said lazily, already sprawled out on one side of the bed. his large frame seemed to dominate the small mattress, taking precious little space. “come on, (y/n), it’s just one night.”

you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “if you snore, i’m kicking you off.”

“deal,” he said, patting the open space beside him. “now, hurry up before i take the whole bed.”

with a grumble, you slid under the blanket, keeping as much distance as possible between the two of you. or at least, you tried to. Jinrang’s broad shoulders and long legs seemed to take up every available inch of space, forcing you to edge closer. the mattress creaked under his weight, and his shamelessly sprawled posture made it clear he wasn’t about to accommodate your protests.

“why you are so fucking big?,” you muttered, elbowing him lightly. the warmth radiating from his body was impossible to ignore, and despite yourself, it felt oddly comforting against the chill of the rainy night.

“i can’t help it if i’m built like this,” he replied, amusement evident in his tone. “but hey, at least i’m warm.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh but didn’t argue further. the day’s exhaustion was catching up with you, and the rhythmic sound of rain combined with Jinrang’s steady breathing began to lull you into a hazy state. as you drifted off, you muttered something about personal space, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

Jinrang glanced down at you, noticing how your breathing had evened out and your features softened in sleep. the weight of the day’s events hung heavy in the air, but in this quiet moment, he felt an uncharacteristic sense of peace. the way your hair framed your face, damp and slightly tousled, made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“goodnight, (y/n),” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain.

for once, you didn’t reply with a sharp remark. and as his eyes slid shut, Jinrang couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the best hiding spot he’d ever found.

[lvoryingrid]

Idiot

Dabi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: During a stormy night, (Y/n)’s peaceful flower shop becomes a refuge for Dabi, the infamous villain, who arrives injured and desperate. Despite her fear, she aids him, uncovering a fragile vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior.

The rain drummed incessantly against the windows of Flourish & Frond, a quaint flower shop tucked into a quiet corner of the loud city. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, filled with the scent of blooming roses and freshly watered soil. Shelves lined the walls, each bursting with vibrant colors—sunflowers, lilies, and delicate baby’s breath carefully arranged in vases and baskets.

(Y/n) worked quietly behind the counter, her hands deftly weaving together a bouquet of peonies and lavender. The steady rhythm of her movements was soothing, a distraction from the storm raging outside

Her life revolved around this little shop. It wasn’t just a job to her—it was her haven, the place where her Quirk found purpose. (Y/n)’s ability, “Verdant Touch,” allowed her to heal and nurture plant life with a mere touch. Wilting petals could bloom anew under her fingers, and dying roots could flourish again. It was a small, gentle Quirk, one she had always cherished despite its limitations.

Growing up, (Y/n) had dreamed of being a hero, like so many others her age. But as the years went on, she realized that her Quirk wasn’t suited for battle or saving lives in the traditional sense. Instead, she found solace in using her gift to bring beauty into the world.

Running the flower shop gave her a sense of peace and purpose. Her customers often left with smiles, their hands full of her lovingly crafted bouquets. It was a simple life, but it was hers—a small sanctuary in a city that often felt chaotic and overwhelming.

The bell above the door jingled softly, signaling a customer had entered the shop. (Y/n) glanced up with a practiced smile, “Sorry, we’re clo—” she began, but her words froze as her eyes landed on the figure who had just entered.

He was tall, his black coat soaked from the rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. Smoke curled faintly from the edges of his figure, and his turquoise eyes glowed like eerie embers against the dim light. Patchwork scars stitched across his pale face and neck, a grotesque yet strangely compelling sight. He was unmistakable.

Dabi.

The infamous villain stood in her shop, a figure who had graced countless wanted posters and news broadcasts. Her blood ran cold as her mind scrambled to process the situation. What was he doing here? Why her shop?

Dabi’s grip on the door handle was tight, his knuckles pale against the dark metal. His broad shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, and his body sagged slightly as he leaned into the shop’s frame for support. The faint sound of dripping caught (Y/n)’s attention, her gaze lowering to the floor. A small, dark puddle began to form at his feet, blood mingling with the rainwater dripping from his coat.

“Lock the door,” he rasped, his voice low and uneven, as though each word cost him effort.

(Y/n) didn’t move. Her practiced smile had vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed stare as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This couldn’t be real. Villains didn’t just walk into flower shops—certainly not him.

“I said, lock the damn door,” Dabi repeated, more forceful this time. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes, the fiery glow of his turquoise gaze sharp and unwavering.

(Y/n) jolted at his harsh tone, her heart hammering in her chest. Without thinking, she moved quickly, her hands trembling as she brushed past him to lock the door. The small bell jingled softly with her movement, and the click of the lock sounded far louder than it should have.

Her fingers fumbled as she turned the shop's "Open" sign to "Closed" and tugged the blinds down over the front windows, her movements hurried but cautious. The thought of being so close to him sent shivers up her spine, and every fiber of her being screamed for her to run.

When she finished, she turned back to him, her wide eyes locking onto his form. She kept her distance, retreating step by careful step until she stood several feet away. “What do you want?” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the infamous villain bleeding on her shop floor.

The sound of rain continued to hammer against the windows, a dull, persistent reminder of the world outside as the tension in the room thickened. Dabi stood at the threshold of the shop, his form towering but clearly weakened. His breath was ragged, each exhale laced with pain. The blood staining his side was an unmistakable sign of how badly he was hurt, and as he took a half-step toward her, he stumbled. A pained hiss escaped his lips as he gripped the counter to steady himself, his legs shaking.

(Y/n) froze. She wanted to move, to do something, but her mind struggled to form coherent thoughts. Villains weren’t supposed to look like this. They weren’t supposed to be hurting. But here he was, and the reality of the situation hit her harder than any force. Dabi, the notorious villain, was standing in front of her—injured, bleeding, and desperately in need of help.

His turquoise eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, locked onto hers. “I need help,” he rasped, his voice rough, dripping with frustration and pain. “Now.”

(Y/n) blinked, her throat tight. Was he serious? Was he really asking her, of all people, to help him? Her mind raced, fear still holding her body captive. But then, as he staggered another step, she saw it—the strain in his movements, the way he winced with every breath, the weight of the pain that clearly had him on the edge.

"You... you’re asking me?" Her voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fear coloring her words. "You’re Dabi. Why would you—"

“Don’t make me say it again,” Dabi cut her off, his tone sharper than before, but beneath it, there was something far more vulnerable—almost pleading. He took another shaky step forward, his body trembling with the effort, before he gritted his teeth and collapsed against the counter, the sound of his knees hitting the floor muffled by the quiet of the shop. “I’m not asking you for sympathy. I’m asking you for help. Now.”

The sight of him, vulnerable and grimacing in pain, broke something in (Y/n). Her instincts, still torn by the need to protect herself, warred against the natural compassion she felt. He was a villain, yes—dangerous, feared, and reviled by many. But there was something in the way he looked at her now, something raw and desperate, that shifted her perception.

Her hands were shaking as she slowly took a step toward him. “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice a whisper, soft but filled with concern.

Dabi leaned heavily on the counter, his body bent forward slightly as he let out a pained exhale. “Heroes.” He spat the word out like venom, but his face twisted in something far more human—exhaustion, frustration, and an edge of vulnerability he rarely showed. “One of them got lucky. Blade Quirk. Got me in the side.”

(Y/n) felt a tremor run through her as she absorbed his words. The sight of his blood dripping steadily onto the floor was enough to jolt her into action, her fear momentarily eclipsed by her instincts. Whatever else he was, he was injured—and badly. The humanity of the situation broke through the haze of her panic.

“You need to lie down,” she said, her voice steadier now, though still tinged with apprehension. She gestured toward the small seating area in the corner of the shop, where a cushioned bench was tucked against the wall.

Dabi gave her a sharp look, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “Lie down? You think I’ve got time for that?”

(Y/n) stiffened, the edge of his tone making her nerves spike again. But she forced herself to hold her ground, squaring her shoulders even as her heart raced. “If you don’t, you’ll bleed out,” she replied, her tone firm despite the quiver in her hands. “And you didn’t come here just to die on my floor.”

Dabi’s glare faltered for a moment, his expression hard to read as he studied her. Then, with a low growl of frustration, he pushed himself away from the counter. His legs wobbled under his weight, and he barely managed a few steps before his knees threatened to buckle again.

“Damn it,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his hand clutching his side.

Without thinking, (Y/n) darted forward to steady him, her hands gripping his arm and shoulder. His skin was warm—too warm, like he was radiating heat from an internal fire. She ignored the way her breath caught in her throat at the contact and focused on guiding him toward the bench.

“Careful,” she murmured, her tone softer now, coaxing him like she might soothe a skittish animal.

Dabi didn’t reply, his jaw clenched tight as he leaned on her for support. By the time they reached the bench, his breathing was shallow and labored, his face pale despite the angry scars marring his skin. He collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy exhale, his body slumping forward slightly as he rested his forearms on his knees.

(Y/n) hovered for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The first-aid kit sat on the counter, and she moved quickly to grab it, her mind racing. Her hands worked on autopilot, gathering supplies and preparing for what she needed to do.

When she returned, she knelt in front of him, her eyes flickering to his face before focusing on the wound. “Let me see,” she said softly, reaching for his coat.

Dabi didn’t move at first, his turquoise gaze heavy on her. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he leaned back slightly, allowing her to peel the sodden fabric away from his side.

The sight of the wound made her stomach twist. A deep gash cut across his torso, the edges of the injury raw and angry. Blood soaked his shirt and streaked his pale skin, dripping steadily onto the bench and pooling on the floor.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. “This is bad,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. She grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it against the wound, applying firm pressure to staunch the bleeding.

Dabi hissed, his body tensing under her touch. “You don’t say,” he bit out, his tone sharp with pain.

(Y/n) glanced up at him, her expression softening despite herself. “I need you to stay still,” she said gently. “This is going to hurt.”

Dabi let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “Hurts already,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched her work.

Y/n) worked methodically, her hands steady despite the tension in the air. The sound of the rain against the windows seemed louder in the thick silence that had settled between them, broken only by Dabi’s occasional grunts of pain and the soft rustling of her movements.

She dipped a cloth in antiseptic and pressed it against the edges of the wound, cleaning away the blood and grime. Her touch was firm but careful, her eyes focused entirely on the task in front of her. The sharp, acrid scent of the antiseptic mingled with the floral aroma of the shop, creating a strange contrast.

Dabi’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly as she worked. “Couldn’t pick a quieter day for this?” he muttered, his voice strained but holding a faint edge of sarcasm.

(Y/n) glanced up briefly, meeting his glowing eyes. “You’re the one who walked into my shop,” she replied, her voice soft but pointed. “If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find it here.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his scarred features, though it quickly dissolved as another wave of pain pulled a hiss from his lips. “Fair enough,” he said, leaning back slightly to give her more room to work. His gaze lingered on her, watching the way her brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re not half bad at this,” he added, his tone lighter, though the tension in his body betrayed his discomfort.

(Y/n) didn’t respond immediately, her focus remaining on the gash across his side. She grabbed a fresh bandage and began to wrap it carefully around his torso, the fabric stretching taut over his lean, scarred frame. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined spending my evening,” she murmured eventually, tying the bandage securely in place. “But I guess I’ve always been good with my hands.”

Dabi smirked faintly at her comment, though it quickly faltered as he shifted and a fresh wave of pain rippled through him. He let out a low groan, his hand instinctively moving to his side.

“Don’t touch it,” (Y/n) said firmly, her hand gently pushing his away. Her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, and she felt the heat radiating off his skin. It wasn’t just the feverish warmth of an injured man—it was something deeper, more dangerous, like a fire simmering just beneath the surface.

“You’re lucky,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “The cut missed anything vital. But you need stitches, and I don’t exactly have a surgical kit lying around.”

Dabi’s gaze flicked to hers, the intensity of his stare making her pause. “It's fine,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

(Y/n) hesitated, her hands stilling for a moment. “You can’t just—”

“I’ve been through worse,” he interrupted, his tone firm despite the exhaustion in his voice. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to… improvise.”

(Y/n) frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on securing the bandages as tightly as she could without causing him more pain. “There,” she murmured after a moment, sitting back on her heels to survey her work. “It’s not perfect, but it should hold.”

Dabi leaned back against the wall, his head tilting slightly as he closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked almost peaceful, despite the tension still evident in his body. “Not bad,” he muttered, the faintest hint of approval in his voice.

(Y/n) stood slowly, her knees stiff from kneeling for so long. Her eyes flickered to the trail of blood smeared across the floor, leading from the door to where Dabi now sat. She sighed quietly, shaking her head as she stepped toward the counter, grabbing a fresh cloth and a bucket she kept tucked away for spills.

“Stay put,” she said over her shoulder, her voice steady but firm. “I’ll clean this up.”

Dabi didn’t respond immediately, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed once again. His breathing was still labored, but it had evened out slightly, no longer the ragged gasps she’d heard when he first arrived. The sight of him like this—quiet, vulnerable—was a jarring contrast to the infamous image of the villain she’d seen in headlines and various posters.

The crimson streaks were stubborn, but (Y/n)’s hands were practiced and efficient. She focused on the task, using it as a way to steady her nerves and distract herself from the surreal situation.

When she finished, she rinsed the cloth in the bucket, the water staining red as the blood washed away. She stood and glanced at Dabi, who hadn’t moved, his head still tilted back against the wall. His eyes were closed, but she could see the subtle tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hands where they rested against his thighs.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, her voice breaking the quiet.

His eyes opened slowly, the glowing turquoise irises locking onto her with a sharpness that made her heart skip. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that unreadable expression. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

(Y/n) turned toward the back of the shop, her steps quiet on the wooden floor. The kitchenette she’d installed for long days at work was modest—a kettle, a small fridge, and a few cabinets stocked with tea and instant coffee. She filled the kettle with water, her movements deliberate as she tried to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.

What was she doing? She was helping Dabi, one of the most wanted villains in the country. The logical part of her screamed at the absurdity of the situation, begged her to find a way out. But another part—a quieter, stubborn part—refused to turn him away, refused to let someone bleed out on her floor, no matter who they were.

The kettle whistled softly, pulling her from her thoughts. She poured the hot water into a mug, adding a bag of chamomile tea. It wasn’t much, but it was soothing—something she imagined he could use, though she wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate the gesture.

When she returned, Dabi’s eyes tracked her every move, his gaze heavy and calculating. She set the mug down on the small table beside him, careful to keep her movements slow and unthreatening.

“It’s tea,” she said simply, stepping back to give him space. “Chamomile. It’ll help you relax.”

Dabi’s gaze shifted to the mug, his scarred fingers reaching for it after a moment of hesitation. He lifted it to his lips, taking a small sip. The heat seemed to surprise him, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he lowered the mug.

“Didn’t peg you for the tea type of girl,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before, though the faint edge of sarcasm remained.

(Y/n) crossed her arms, leaning against the counter as she watched him. “And I didn’t peg you for the ‘stumble into a flower shop, almost bleeding out’ type of guy,” she replied evenly.

His smirk widened slightly, though it was fleeting. “Touché.”

The room fell into a tentative silence, the rain outside still tapping against the windows. (Y/n) found her gaze drifting back to him, her mind swimming with unasked questions. Why had he come here, of all places? Was it random, or had he chosen her shop for a reason? And what would happen when he left?

Dabi set the mug down on the table, his movements deliberate but slow, as if every action cost him effort. “You didn’t have to help me,” he said suddenly, his voice low but clear. His eyes flicked to hers, their intensity catching her off guard. “You could’ve turned me away. Called someone.”

(Y/n) met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “I know,” she said softly, her voice steady.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to decipher her intentions. “Why?” he asked, the question sharp and direct.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly against the counter’s edge. “Because,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “I couldn’t just let you like that. No matter who you are.”

Dabi leaned back against the wall, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied her. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then, he let out a low, almost amused chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“You’re a strange one, flower girl,” he muttered, his voice carrying a faint hint of admiration despite the weariness in his tone.

(Y/n) let out a soft sigh, her gaze briefly shifting to the window where the rain continued to fall in sheets. The storm outside had only grown worse since Dabi’s arrival, the wind howling against the glass, rattling the panes with an intensity that mirrored the tension still thick in the air between them.

"You can stay the night—just for tonight, though,” she added quickly, almost as if to remind herself. “You need to rest, and the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. I’m not going to throw you back out into that.”

Dabi’s gaze softened, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features. He studied her for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if there was some ulterior motive to her offer. "You’re... letting me stay here? Even though you know who I am?"

Her eyes flickered away from him briefly “You’re hurt. And despite everything—what you’ve done, what you stand for—no one deserves to die alone in the rain. Not like this.”

There was a long pause as Dabi processed her words. His gaze softened ever so slightly, though it was still filled with a certain wariness, a suspicion that he didn’t fully trust her kindness.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall with a slight thud. “You’re making a mistake,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to,” (Y/n) replied gently, moving to adjust the blankets on the small bench in the corner. “I know you’re hurt. And right now, that’s all that matters.” She turned back to him then, her eyes meeting his with a quiet resolve. “But you’ll have to leave tomorrow. I can’t keep you here any longer than that.”

Dabi’s lips twitched, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what if I don’t? What if I decide to stick around longer?” His tone was light, teasing almost, but (Y/n) could see the weariness behind it.

“You won’t,” she said simply, her gaze steady as she met his challenge.

Dabi let out a soft chuckle, but it was devoid of the usual venom he carried with him. There was something almost defeated in it. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the bandages she’d wrapped around his side still tight, though he winced slightly as he adjusted his position. “You really do have a thing for doing the opposite of what people expect.”

She didn’t respond right away, just moved to place a pillow behind him to support his back as he slouched against the wall, then straightened up to her full height. Her hands lingered on the edge of the bench for a moment, and she gave him a final, pointed look. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll deal with whatever happens after that.”

Dabi didn’t argue. His eyes closed slowly, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped even further. For a moment, he almost seemed like just a man—a man in pain, who needed rest.

Days turned into weeks, and after that fateful night, Dabi never truly left her thoughts. He kept his word about leaving the morning after the storm passed, but that didn’t mark the end of his presence in her life. Every evening, as the sun began to set and the city buzzed with its evening rush, the doorbell of Flourish & Frond would chime, signaling Dabi’s arrival. He’d walk through the door at precisely the same time every evening, just as (Y/n) was preparing to close up for the day.

At first, the sight of him always made her heart skip a beat—fear mixed with disbelief that he was there, in her shop, again. His visits felt like a shadow hanging over her, his reputation enough to make her worry about being discovered. But despite the lingering fear, she couldn’t deny the subtle shift in their interactions.

Dabi was different. He wasn’t the cold, menacing figure she’d seen on wanted posters. The man who entered her shop now seemed… more human. He no longer dragged himself in, barely able to keep his balance, but instead appeared more composed, more normal like. Still, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the worry every time he came through that door. What if someone saw him? What if he attracted too much attention?

But as the weeks passed, Dabi grew more comfortable in her space, and the tension between them shifted. He no longer just came for brief visits; he’d linger, sitting on the cushioned bench in the corner as she finished closing up the shop. He would ask her about her day, joke about the ridiculous things she had to deal with—customers who insisted on buying flowers for their "exes" or the old woman who tried to convince her that lavender was the cure for all ailments. It was these little moments that made (Y/n) start to see him differently. There was something disarming about his sarcastic humor, his dry wit that reminded her that he, too, once had a life outside of the villainous reputation that followed him.

It was on one of these late evenings, when the shop was quiet and the rain tapped softly against the windows, that Dabi showed up again, his coat dripping with the remnants of the storm outside. He pushed open the door with his usual nonchalance, shaking off the rain before stepping inside. The bell jingled lightly above his head as (Y/n) glanced up from wiping down the counter, her heart giving its usual nervous thud.

“Back again?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, her tone playful but laced with that same apprehension that always came with his arrival.

Dabi grinned, though it was more tired than usual. “What can I say? I’m addicted to your… healing skills. The tea helps too, I guess.”

Her lips quirked at the corners. “Healing skills, huh? I’m not sure I’d call it healing.”

“Oh, trust me,” Dabi shot back, “if you saw the state I was in before you worked your magic, you’d call it a damn miracle.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest was undeniable. He had started teasing her more in the past few weeks, and it always made her feel strangely at ease, despite the fact that she knew she was still walking a fine line with him. He was a villain, after all.

The silence between them settled comfortably, the sound of the rain masking any further tension as she finished tidying up. Dabi settled into his usual spot on the bench, his gaze following her as she moved around the shop.

“You really don’t have to stick around here every night, you know,” she said after a pause, her voice quieter now, as she grabbed a cloth to clean up a vase that had tipped over earlier in the day.

Dabi’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smirk softening. “You say that like you don’t like the company. What’s the matter? Scared someone might see me here?”

“I’m always scared someone might see you here.” She shot him a pointed look, and Dabi chuckled darkly.

“I’m not that obvious, am I?” he teased, his gaze flicking toward the street outside.

(Y/n) didn’t respond right away, her fingers gripping the cloth a little tighter. She wasn’t sure what exactly had happened over the past weeks, but there was no denying that a strange bond had formed between them—one that she wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate. On one hand, there was her growing concern for his well-being, and on the other, the reminder that she was harboring an infamous villain in her shop.

But as much as her mind tried to warn her, something about Dabi felt different now. He’d stopped pushing her boundaries, and his visits, while still making her heart race with fear, had become… almost comforting. His teasing remarks, the subtle way he checked in on her—asking if she’d eaten, if she was getting enough sleep, making sure she was staying safe—had grown from a casual interest to something more genuine. There were moments, too, when the walls around him dropped, and she could see the weariness in his eyes—the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than just physical pain. And in those moments, she would offer him a quiet cup of tea, and he would accept it without comment, just a fleeting look of gratitude before he retreated behind that familiar, sarcastic demeanor

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the first droplets started falling, Dabi walked in, his usual grin missing from his lips. (Y/n) caught his eye and couldn’t help herself.

“You’re late tonight,” she teased, her smile playful. But the words faltered when she noticed him.

Dabi stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his hair, darker than the storm itself. His usual teasing grin was absent, replaced by a weariness that weighed heavy on his sharp features. His turquoise eyes—normally alight with mischief—were dim, shadows pooling in their depths.

“I…” His voice was rough, almost hoarse, as he stepped inside and shut the door. For a moment, he seemed unsteady, catching himself on the doorframe before making his way to his usual bench. “I just felt like… I needed to be here.”

(Y/n) blinked, her hands stilling over the vase she was cleaning. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw.

He sank onto the bench with a tired sigh, leaning back as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. His gaze found hers, and for once, there was no sarcasm, no barriers—just an unguarded vulnerability that made her chest tighten.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, abandoning the vase and stepping closer.

Dabi ran a hand through his damp hair, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “Define ‘okay,’ sunshine.”

The nickname was there, but the usual smirk wasn’t, and that made it all the more disarming.

She hesitated before pulling up a stool to sit across from him, her hands clasped in her lap. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he spoke, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.

Dabi didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. For a moment, (Y/n) thought he wouldn’t respond at all. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging even further, and he finally looked up at her.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said, his voice low but steady, carrying an edge of frustration.

(Y/n) blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he ran a hand down his face. “You’re an idiot for letting me come here whenever I feel like it. For not throwing me out the first time I walked through that door. For not letting me bleed out”

Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn’t form a response before he continued, his voice growing sharper.

“You’re an idiot for enjoying my company, my jokes, for looking at me like I’m not a complete mess. Like I’m not some twisted, broken thing that you should stay as far away from as possible.”

He looks up at her intensely "You knew from the beginning who I was, and yet you foolishly helped me".

Her chest tightened, the weight of his words settling over her like a storm she hadn’t seen coming. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but before she could find the words, he let out a soft, bitter laugh—a sound so unguarded it made her heart ache.

“But you know what?” he murmured, his voice breaking the quiet like a confession he could no longer hold back. His eyes lifted to meet hers, and in them, she saw something raw—something so achingly human that it stole her breath. “I’m an even bigger idiot. Because I can’t stop thinking about you., even for a second”

The words hung between them, heavy and vulnerable. Her heart raced, each beat echoing louder in her chest as she stared at him, unable to look away.

“I don’t know when it started,” he continued, his voice soft and almost hesitant, as if saying it aloud made him feel exposed. “Maybe it was that first night, the way you looked at me—like I was someone deserving your help. Like I was… more than these scars.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze faltering as his hands clenched into fists. “Even when I said something sharp or stupid. You didn’t flinch, didn’t look at me like I was a monster, you just… saw through it. Through me.”

His voice wavered, the words growing quieter, heavier. “And now, I can’t stop coming back. Even when I know I shouldn't. Even when I know it’s selfish, that I’m selfish. Because being here—with you—it’s the only place where it doesn’t feel like the world is closing in on me. Like I can actually breathe for a little while.”

Her breath hitched, and she reached for him without thinking, her fingers brushing his arm in a gentle gesture that seemed to anchor him. He closed his eyes at the contact, a barely audible sigh escaping him as his fists unclenched.

“I need this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you. More than I want to. More than I should.” His head dropped, his damp hair falling into his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze again. “And it terrifies me. Because if I lose this—if I lose you—”

Dabi’s words broke off, a tremor in his voice betraying the storm raging inside him. Before she could fully process what he had said, he moved. His hand shot out, firm but trembling, finding her waist and pulling her closer in a single, desperate motion.

The contact sent a jolt through her, her breath catching as she found herself pressed against him. His other arm wrapped around her back, holding her tightly, as if she might vanish if he let go. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Dabi…” she whispered, her voice shaking with a mix of surprise and something deeper—something that mirrored the ache in his own heart.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his face buried against her shoulder. His breath was warm against her neck, and she could feel the faint tremor in his chest as he held her. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. For not being able to stay away. For needing you more than I should.”

Her hands hovered in the air for a moment, unsure of what to do, before finally settling on his shoulders. She held him gently, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric of his coat as she tried to steady her own racing heart.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling within her. “Not for this.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his turquoise eyes meeting hers, filled with a vulnerability she had never seen before. His grip on her waist loosened slightly, but his hands stayed there, as if to reassure himself that she was still within reach.

“I never thought…” she began, her voice faltering as she searched for the right words. “I never thought you felt this way. That you…”

“Felt like you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart?” he finished for her, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed against her side absentmindedly, a small, soothing motion that sent shivers down her spine. “Because you are, (Y/n). You’re the only one who sees me—not just the scars, not just the villain. Me. And I don’t know how to stop wanting that. How to stop wanting you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

“You don’t have to stop,” she whispered, her fingers curling slightly against his coat. “Because I feel it too. I thought I was the only one, but… I feel it too, Dabi.”

For a moment, his expression was unreadable, his eyes searching hers as if trying to make sense of her words. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by something softer—something almost hopeful.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, his hands tightening ever so slightly around her waist.

She smiled, a soft, nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I feel it too.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m too selfish to let you go.”

Her hands moved to cup his face, her thumbs brushing against the rough skin of his cheeks. “Then don’t,” she said softly, her voice steady. “Don’t let me go.”

Dabi’s breath caught at her words, the sincerity in her voice unraveling something tightly wound inside him. For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if committing every detail of her face to memory—the softness in her (e/c) eyes, the way her lips curved in a nervous but hopeful smile.

Slowly, he shifted, his hands still steady at her waist as he stood, drawing her up with him. He towered over her now, his presence overwhelming yet oddly comforting. The space between them was almost nonexistent, their breaths mingling as the world outside the shop faded into nothingness.

His gaze flickered to her lips, hesitating for just a second. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice low, almost uncertain.

Her heart swelled at the vulnerability in his tone, and she nodded, her hands still cradling his face. “I’m sure.”

That was all the reassurance he needed.

Dabi leaned in slowly, deliberately, his turquoise eyes locked on hers until the very last moment. When his lips met hers, it was gentle, almost cautious, as if he were afraid she might break beneath his touch.

The kiss was soft at first, a delicate brush of lips that sent a wave of warmth through her. But as her fingers tangled in his hair and she leaned into him, his hesitance melted away. The kiss deepened, his hands pulling her closer as if he couldn’t bear to let even an inch of space remain between them.

There was a desperation to the way he held her, a quiet intensity that spoke of how much he’d been holding back. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a promise, and a plea all at once.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths came in unsteady gasps, their foreheads resting together. Dabi’s hands lingered at her waist, his thumbs brushing against her sides as if reassuring himself that she was still there.

“See?” she whispered, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “That wasn’t so selfish, was it?”

He let out a shaky laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at her. “It’s selfish as hell,” he murmured, his voice rough but laced with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “But I’m not sorry. Not even a little.”

She laughed too, the sound light and free, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Dabi felt a flicker of something he hadn’t dared to hope for—peace.

Masterlist

[hwallazia]

SKIN – 정윤호

synopsis . in which yunho soothes you after your boyfriend breaks up with you.

pairing . jeong yunho & fem! reader

genre . fluff, angst, lovers to exes (reader with her bf), friends to lovers?, non idol!au

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 2,4k

DISCLAIMER! cursing, slight degradation (yn is called a “bitch” by her boyfriend), lots of tears, yn’s got a boyfriend whose name is never mentioned, yn in here has dark hair (sorry for my light-haired babes, it’s just for the plot), sabrina carpenter sad songs (yes, that goes as a warning), physical and psychological insecurities, cutest pet names (princess, baby, love, yun & more), body worshipping, just softie bsf yuyu showing all his love to reader ><

NIC’S NOTES this fic has a piece of my heart, i put all my poet ass in it lmao. ofc it’s inspired in “skin” by sabrina carpenter (song rec alert !!). enjoy, dearsss <3

“come to my place. now” was what you had told yunho when you called him. and no more words nor explanations were needed for him to rush into your studio apartment’s door.

a soft knock reverberated across the gloomy room while you were too busy rotting on your sofa, a feather pillow was pressed against your pale face by your hands as they grasped the fluffy material. you groaned before forcing your body up, your stocking feet idly searching for your black and white slippers. tired body shuffling its way to your door.

you swung your door open revealing your best friend’s figure, enveloped in an oversized hoodie, hands busy holding a basket full of your favorite sweets and scented candles. you also could take a peek at some teabags, also of your preferences. “bought some things on my way here. you sounded a bit off so i thought these could make you feel better.” he muttered as he analyzed your state, smudged mascara on your cheeks catching his attention.

your boyfriend of two years had called you to ask you if you were free tonight. as excitement rushed through your veins, you accepted frantically; you hadn’t seen him in so long since he was on some sort of business trip, you didn’t know. he didn’t clarify what it was for and you didn’t even bother asking, limiting yourself to only wish him the best and tell him how much you love him and to be safe. your small studio apartment felt so small and empty without his joyful presence, yunho having to fill the void. but finally, finally, the two weeks; fourteen days; 336 hours, and fifty minutes passed, though they did at the pace of a turtle.

you tracked the flight of the airplane he was in as the two-weeks-accumulated anxiety was overflowing you. when your screen informed you that he’d arrive in only ten minutes, you changed your clothes, did your makeup as fast as lightning, and drove, ignoring a few traffic signs, to the airport. and you waited, and waited, and waited. he never showed up.

with all the people that passed you by while you lingered in that airport, you tried to convince yourself that maybe he was there or that his flight was delayed. the most nonsensical excuses were formed in your head. you were quick to grab your phone, slide your finger across your screen, and type anxiously against it, your eyes moving from side to side, up and down, looking for his contact.

to love: “where are u”

to love: “have u arrived yet?”

no response. your feet were starting to feel your weight too much, feeling sore as the minutes passed. a teardrop threatened to roll off your cheekbone but you resisted, holding onto a miserable bit of hope. and then it started raining, the heavy drops hammering the walls made of glass of the airport and you heaved a sigh. a part of you refusing to accept that he wasn’t there and that you had to rot in a cold, lonely bed again for god knows how much time. your index finger was firmly placed on the on and off button of your phone, checking your screen every five seconds, envisioning the relieving sound of a “ding” indicating that he had finally replied to you. sadly, it didn’t.

although, he had taken the time to answer to your desperate messages four days later, you were still excited to meet your lover again, after being apart for such a long time. you were supposed to have a pretty dinner date at his place, or at least that’s how you interpreted his words. actually he had said “we need to catch up! come to my place by 6”, but you still dolled up as if you were modeling on the fucking red carpet. and you regretted it so much.

a few sips of the sparkling champagne were enough for you to start confessing how much you had missed him and everything you had done in his absence. your crystallized bubble crumbled down so fast, though. only five words, five damn words were necessary for your eyes to start welling up with precious teardrops.

“we need to break up.” he had said. emotionless. as if he was giving you the fucking hour.

“what. why?” your eyes peered down his soul as you tried to retain a few tears that already demanded their release. you processed his words and spoke, “and what do you mean by need?” 

your scattered voice didn’t hurt him. not at all. “i’ve been hiding something from you for… too much time.” you gasped. your ears tickling in anticipation. “sorry, but i’m in love with… someone else.”

the glass of champagne that rested on your hand on the edge of the table slipped off it and met the floor, the crystal and liquor spread all over it, messing its neatness up. tears started to flow down your heated cheekbones, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “how long?”

your simple question received a simpler answer. “eight months.”

your throat ran dry but you still managed to speak back through gritted teeth. “eight months. was i not enough for you? were those eight months happier for you?”

he stood up, now both of you speaking face-to-face. frown brows decorated his expression. “why bother telling you?”

“answer me!” you demanded, your voice and heart naturally breaking with each passing second near him.

“fine. those were the best months of my life. she’s the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen, her soul is just as bright as her blonde hair. she treats me like a king, yn. and what have i gotten with you? nothing but just shitty nights, crying myself to sleep because of our never-ending fights.” he breathed before continuing, “don’t you understand that you’re nothing compared to her?”

he deadpanned and you couldn’t bring yourself to hold eye contact. your knuckles turned clearer as you tightened your fist. “fuck you.”

you didn’t think twice before standing up and making your way out of that unforgettable apartment, not daring to look back; you managed to hear a faint “you asked, bitch!”. once you walked out of the building and entered your car, you fell apart. mascara stains all over your face and smudged lipstick around your mouth. the tight grip you maintained on the steering wheel was alternative in function of not breaking your fist by punching a concrete wall. you turned up the radio, desperately looking for a song that’d cheer you up. but “opposite” by sabrina carpenter started playing.

you drove home with the singer’s soothing voice and melody in the background as the lyric was blabbered by your broken self, hitting naturally differently. at this point, your face was a mess, unlocking a new feature of you. before arriving home, you thought of yunho. yes, he’d definitely be the solution —or distraction— of all this disarray. so you typed “yuyu” on the contacts’ search bar, rapidly hitting the call button.

and he picked up so fast, promising you to be at your place in 10. and here he was, wrapping your core with his large arms in a warm, much-needed hug. you allowed the rest of the teardrops that hadn’t fallen to do so, a patch of wetness on yunho’s hoodie.

“do you wanna talk about it?” his soothing voice comforting you. he waited patiently for you to recompose and be able to formulate non-blabbered sentences.

“it’s him, yun.” your words were muffled by his cloth, yet still audible for yunho to comprehend. “he cheated on me.” you lifted your face up his chest, teary-eyed. “for eight fucking months.”

genuinely, yunho never liked your boyfriend. there was just something about him that triggered yunho, so he rejected him from the very first start. still, he didn’t say anything about his repudiation towards your boyfriend since he was a witness of how much you adored him. the little girl grin your lips would form every time you talked about him was so cute. a facet of him wished that smile to be caused only because of him though. he’d tell you how he felt about your boyfriend, but not now. not when he has you breaking down on his arms.

“come on, princess. let’s lie on the couch.” he mumbled as he scooped you in his arms, holding you soundly. idly, you enveloped your arms around his toned neck and hid your messed-up face in the crook of his neck. due to his height and the small space of your apartment, five steps were enough for him to lay your core all along the fluffy, light-colored couch, your ankles hanging off of its armrest. he sat next to your head and you lifted it a bit, indicating him to put his legs under your nape to use his thighs as a pillow.

he trailed his hand up and down your untied hair, alleviating your pain away. “what did he tell you, hm?”

you exhaled deeply, remembering his harsh words, your irises being covered by a watered shield for the nth time that night. yunho’s thumb rushing up your eyes and brush them away. “nonono, baby.” he whispered tenderly, swelling your heart up even more. a moment of silence was given to you by him. “take a deep breath for me.”

your chest rose and fell as you followed yunho’s instructions, your teary eyes locked with his, full of sweetness and affection. his thumb still working on the constant waterfall that kept flowing down your cheeks. you kept your breathing pace calm and collected, a proud, beaming smile adorning his face. “that’s it, sweetheart. just like that” he kept quiet for a moment before speaking again. “whenever you feel ready, just vent with me.”

five minutes passed and yunho didn’t seem bothered because of it. hell, he’d give you all the existing time for you to get over that jackass. he adored you way too much and thought that you were too beautiful to be crumbling down because of him. and he didn’t have to say it, his eyes spoke for him, perfectly reflecting his devotion to you.

your deep sigh pulled him out of his trance. and you finally started spilling out all your thoughts. “i asked him if i wasn’t enough for him and if he had spent those eight months with her happily. i don’t even know why i did that. i must be some sort of a masochist” you said causing yunho to let out a breathy chuckle. “he said that they were. and that she’s the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, with a soul as bright as her hair.” his words tattooed on your skull. your voice nearly broke. “and that i’m nothing compared to her.”

“and did you believe him?” he questioned. “do you?”

“i—“ you stammered, not knowing your response. your misery and self-love were tearing you down to pieces. “i don’t know, yun.”

“and you’re so wrong for that.” he stated and you tilted your head slightly in confusion. “honey. look at you” his hand flew down your thighs, caressing the upper part of them. “your legs, so smooth and strong. ready to take your beautiful soul to any corner of the world.” he continued his path up to your arms, stroking them. “your arms, so slimmed and powerful. they make you look like a little defenseless girl when in reality you can knock tons of people with just your fist.” you choked a chuckle, flattered because of his praise, which seemed to be never-ending since he kept on going, his long palm rubbing your covered abdomen. “your perfect sized-belly with the most hypnotizing curves known to man.” he dedicated a few seconds of his journey along your core to draw soft circles on your waist. and he moved on, reaching your neck. gentle fingers grazed its sides. “your neck, covered in the most perfect constellation of freckles.”

you giggled, your skin way too flushed since you were locked in a prison of praises. “okay, yun. we got your poin—“

he shushed you right away. “mm. i’m not done yet.” his right hand cupped one side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “your cheeks. so cute whenever you’re nervous or embarrassed. like right now.” he admired the view of your pinkish skin for a bit longer before locking his honey-dripping gaze with yours, now completely absent of tears. “and your eyes. your intoxicating, saturn-like eyes. the little beam that always shines in them reminds me of the stars, y’ know?” he confessed. “and don’t even get me started with your endearing, beautiful soul.”

the palm of your hand cradled his face, his head tilting against your touch as he covered it with his own. “yunho..”

your whisper tickled his heart. “yes, love?”

your heart ached for healing, its wounds crying out for solace. you firmly believed that yunho’s lips held the remedy you so desperately sought, a cure capable of mending the fractured pieces of your soul. you stood before him, every beat of your heart echoed with hope and longing. when yunho finally leaned in, his kiss was more than just a touch—it was a gentle balm that eased your pain, restoring a sense of wholeness you hadn’t felt in months. in that moment, you knew that the healing you had yearned for was not only possible but was unfolding before you, one tender kiss at a time.

as yunho’s lips lingered on yours, you felt a warmth spread through you, an escape from the lingering chill of your recent heartbreak. even though you knew in the back of your mind that you should give yourself time to heal, to focus on your own recovery and self-discovery, the desire to be close to yunho overpowered your rational thoughts. his kiss was a sanctuary from the storm of emotions, a fleeting moment of solace that you clung to desperately.

when he finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours with a mix of concern and affection. you could see that he understood the uncertainty you were feeling, but he chose to respect your vulnerability. “you don’t have to rush anything,” he said softly, “i’m here for you. no matter what.”

you nodded, a mixture of gratitude and confusion in your eyes. “i know,” you whispered. “i just... needed this.”

yunho took your hand gently, his touch comforting and reassuring. “take all the time you need,” he said. “i’ll be right here.”

as you let the tender moment just end, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you. the healing process was far from over, but yunho’s presence gave you a glimmer of hope. you knew that it’d take time to rebuild and to understand what you truly needed, but for now, you allowed yourself to cherish the connection you shared with him. the road ahead was uncertain, but at least you weren’t walking it alone.

| masterlist

[emoerotica]

Rainswept Confessions

・❥・Geto x Reader Soft Smut・❥・

On a stormy night, you find yourself in a car with Geto, driving through heavy rain toward Gojo's place. As the storm intensifies, the tension between you grows, leaving the two of you alone in the thick atmosphere. Eventually, the mounting pressure gives way to a moment of intimacy.

・❥・ ・❥・

Rainswept Confessions

The rain hammered against the windshield in rhythmic waves, each drop splintering into rivulets that streaked across the glass. Streetlights glowed in hazy halos, smeared by the water and the speed at which we cut through the night. The roads were slick with puddles that reflected bursts of neon signs and distant headlights, turning the wet streets into a patchwork of fleeting color. Tires hissed over the asphalt, splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. Inside the car, the storm became a lullaby—a steady drumming on the roof mixed with the soft hum of the radio, filling the space with a soothing, melancholic kind of music.

I glanced sideways at Geto, feeling a familiar, unspoken pull. His long black hair spilled over his shoulder like silk, the ends slightly damp from the dash through the rain earlier. Strands clung to his neck, framing the curve of his jaw. He held the steering wheel with one hand, fingers curled just enough to convey his usual effortless ease. His other hand rested on his thigh, the slight tension in his knuckles drawing your gaze. He always seemed calm, but there was a quiet power in the way he held himself, as if every movement he made carried unintentional grace.

God, he looked perfect. The slope of his nose, the way his eyelashes cast delicate shadows under the dim light, the quiet intensity in his gaze that never wavered. His presence was magnetic—like he didn’t belong to the world beyond this car, only to the moments where time slowed around him. You knew him as your best friend, along with Gojo, but there was always something more beneath the surface when it came to Geto. Something that kept you lingering a second too long, thinking of him in ways you never did with anyone else.

The storm outside seemed endless, as if the road ahead had been swallowed by rain and mist. The car cut through it steadily, but with each passing mile, the destination felt more like a distant dream. Soon, Geto eased the car off the road, pulling into an empty parking lot. The rain battered the roof harder now, a constant drumming that made it feel like the world outside had vanished into water and sound.

“We’ll stop here for a bit,” he said, voice smooth and unhurried. “Can’t see the road in this mess.”

He draped his arm over the back of his seat, turning slightly to face you. His gaze lingered just long enough to make your heart catch. You nodded, feeling your breath hitch as the weight of his presence settled in the small space between you.

“We were supposed to meet Gojo,” you whispered, though the thought felt distant now, swept away with the rain and the night.

Geto gave a faint smile, his lips curving at the edges in a way that made your stomach twist. “He can wait. He always does.”

There was a softness in his voice, like he knew Gojo would be fine—because he always was. But with Geto, it felt different. Here, alone with him, the world felt quieter, smaller, like this moment was carved out just for the two of you.

You tried not to stare too long, but the way the faint light traced the curve of his cheekbone, the slope of his throat, and the line of his collarbone kept drawing your eyes back to him. The sound of rain filled the silence between you, but it only made his gaze feel heavier, more deliberate.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, as if not wanting to break the delicate stillness.

You swallowed, your voice softer than intended. “Yeah.”

The tension between you wasn’t sharp—it was tender, lingering, filled with things left unsaid. His eyes searched yours for a beat longer, and you knew this wasn’t just another rainy night. This was a moment caught between friendship and something more, a moment where, for once, neither of you had to pretend it wasn’t there.

The radio hummed softly in the background, and then the song shifted—something slower, deeper. The bass throbbed gently under a sultry melody, and the singer’s voice dripped through the speakers, low and smooth like honey. The shift in music felt deliberate, as if the night itself was conspiring to heighten the tension already thick between you two.

Geto’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, like he noticed it too. His hand slid down from the back of the seat and rested near your shoulder, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your jacket—a fleeting touch, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. The air between you buzzed with unspoken curiosity, something heavier than the simple comfort of old friends.

He leaned closer, just enough for you to catch the faint scent of rain on his skin, mixed with the subtle spice of his cologne. His voice dropped an octave, softer, more intimate. “So, tell me,” he murmured, “if you could have anything right now, what would it be?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question—and the way his gaze didn’t waver, like he was waiting for an answer that wasn’t just small talk. The rain outside drummed steadily on the roof, but it only seemed to amplify the moment between you, the quiet hum of possibility filling the space like a slow-burning fuse.

“What would I want?” you echoed, stalling as your pulse quickened. Your heart beat so loudly you were certain he could hear it. “I don’t know. Maybe… something simple. Something that makes me feel good.”

The words felt dangerous as soon as they left your mouth, teetering on the edge of playful and suggestive. His dark eyes flickered with amusement, and that damn half-smile tugged at his lips again, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“That’s vague,” he teased, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve gotta be more specific than that.”

You bit your lip, the warmth in your chest spreading to your cheeks. “What about you?” you countered, trying to regain some control over the situation. “If you could have anything right now, what would it be?”

He considered your question, his gaze trailing over your face, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his face. The movement was so casual, yet so deliberate, that it felt like a show just for you.

“I think I already know what I want,” he said, voice smooth, almost lazy—but there was an edge to it, a quiet intensity simmering just beneath the surface.

His eyes darkened slightly, glinting with something playful yet predatory, like he was testing the waters to see how far you were willing to go. His hand drifted from his thigh, just a few inches closer to yours, a silent invitation hanging in the charged air between you.

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was—how easily the boundaries between you two could blur, right here in the warm cocoon of the car, with the storm raging just beyond the windows. The storm outside might have felt endless, but so did this moment, stretched taut between desire and hesitation, daring you to take the next step.

His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, testing, as if waiting for permission. But the moment you leaned into him, everything shifted. The kiss deepened, becoming hungry, urgent, like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.

His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, gripping it firmly but not painfully. A shiver ran down your spine as he gave a subtle tug, tilting your head just enough to claim you fully. The pull sent sparks down your body, making your breath hitch against his mouth.

The rain outside seemed to roar louder, drumming against the roof as if trying to match the rhythm of your racing heart. The kiss grew more fevered, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that stole every thought from your mind. His breath was hot and ragged, mixing with yours as the kiss became a dance of need, tongues brushing and teeth grazing just enough to leave you aching for more.

His hand on your thigh now—when did it get there?—gripped just a little tighter, his thumb drawing slow circles through the fabric, grounding you and setting you alight all at once. The warmth of his touch bled through your clothes, sending heat pooling low in your stomach. Every brush of his lips, every tug of your hair, only stoked the fire building between you two, as if the storm outside wasn’t enough to contain it.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, and that seemed to unravel him. His grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back just enough for him to break the kiss and hover, panting, his lips ghosting over yours. His dark eyes burned with something raw—desire, frustration, and something deeper, something dangerously close to devotion.

“Say the word,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading, as if this moment could break either of you if it wasn’t real. The rain pounded relentlessly outside, but in the charged, hazy warmth of the car, it was the farthest thing from your mind.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back toward you—and he came willingly, crashing into you like a wave finally allowed to break. The storm outside howled, but the real tempest was right here, between the two of you. And neither of you had any intention of stopping.

The kiss broke just long enough for Geto to breathe, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting like you’d been caught in the storm outside instead of sheltered from it. His hand lingered on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin in a way that felt too intimate, too real—like he wasn’t just kissing you; he was memorizing you.

Before you could say anything, his hand slipped to your waist, and with a smooth, effortless motion, he tugged you toward the back seat. The leather squeaked softly under your weight as he guided you into the cramped space, his long legs following right after. His body crowded yours, but instead of feeling trapped, it only heightened the strange thrill twisting in your chest.

This was Geto. Your best friend. You’d been driving through the rain minutes ago, and now his lips were on yours like this was something inevitable—something both of you had been waiting for without realizing it.

The car was warm, humid from your breaths and the rain clinging to your clothes. The scent of him—faint cologne, rainwater, and something distinctly *him*—wrapped around you like a second skin. And then, just as the weight of it all settled into your chest, the radio shifted again, the soft opening notes of Art Deco by Lana Del Rey filling the air.

"You're so Art Deco, out on the floor... Shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure."

The slow, sultry beat seeped into your bones, each note vibrating in the space between you two. Geto smiled against your lips as if the universe had set the song just for this moment, and you felt him hum low in his throat, pleased.

“Lana,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. “Perfect timing.”

His favorite. Of course it was. And just like that, everything clicked into place—Geto’s lingering touches, the way he looked at you like he saw something more than just a friend. All the moments between you two that you had brushed off suddenly felt too significant to ignore.

As the slow rhythm pulsed through the car, Geto’s hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers skimming your waist, slow and deliberate. His touch was gentle but insistent, like the beat of the song—a steady, intoxicating rhythm you couldn’t help but follow. His mouth found yours again, softer this time, the hunger from earlier replaced by something slower, deeper.

He kissed you in time with the music, each press of his lips a note, each graze of his teeth an echo of the lyrics swirling around you. His hand drifted higher, fingertips brushing against your ribs, making you arch into him without thinking.

"A little party never hurt no one..."

The irony of the lyrics didn’t escape you—this was definitely not what you had expected when the night began. But now, with his hands on your skin, the rain drowning out the rest of the world, you couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

Geto’s hands slipped under your shirt, palms warm against the cool skin of your waist. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if savoring every inch of you. His fingers traced the curve of your sides, the drag of his hands light enough to make you shiver. He took his time, sliding them higher, brushing along your ribs in a way that left goosebumps in his wake. Each movement was unhurried, like he wanted to learn your body through touch alone, committing every detail to memory.

The slow beat pulsed around you, filling the small space between your breaths.

"You want in, but you just can't win. So you stay in the lights....."

The song's hypnotic rhythm matched the pace of his hands, teasing you with every subtle touch. Geto leaned in closer, the scent of rain and cologne swirling with the heat of his breath against your neck. His lips brushed your ear as he murmured, “You feel even better than I imagined.”

Your heart stumbled at his words, a flush spreading down your neck, your skin alive under the soft glide of his fingertips. His thumbs traced slow circles along your hips before moving higher again, brushing over your ribs like he was exploring uncharted territory.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes half-lidded and hazy with desire. The flickering light from the dashboard reflected in his gaze, making him look like a dream, unreal in the dim confines of the car. His hair had slipped free from its loose tie, falling around his face in dark, wet strands. You could feel the weight of his gaze—intense, wanting, and entirely focused one you.

His lips found yours again, slower this time, tasting, savoring—like he had all the time in the world. His hands slid further up your torso, palms grazing your sides before brushing just under the curve of your chest, the pressure light but electrifying.

You gasped softly against his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss, the corner of his lips quirking like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. His fingers curled slightly against your skin, teasing you with the barest hint of what he could do if you let him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, his voice low and velvety, a subtle challenge in the way he asked—like he already knew your answer but wanted to hear it from you.

The rain drummed relentlessly on the roof, the song wrapping the two of you in its dreamlike haze. In the dim, private world you’d created in the back seat, with the storm outside and his hands on you, saying no was the farthest thing from your mind.

Geto’s lips drifted down your neck, each kiss soft but deliberate, making your breath hitch as he slowly mapped the curve of your throat. His hands roamed your body with practiced ease, fingers dragging over your ribs, your waist, like he was savoring every second. Then, without a word, he shifted lower, his body pressing into yours.

The leather seat squeaked as he moved between your legs, using his own to nudge them apart, spreading you with a slow, deliberate pressure. The heat between you was suffocating now, every point where your bodies touched burning through the thin layers of clothing. His palms gripped your thighs, thumbs brushing over your skin with a tenderness that felt at odds with the hunger simmering beneath it.

"Cause you want more... Why?"

The lyrics melted into the atmosphere, slipping through the charged air like a whispered confession, amplifying the tension building between you two.

"You want more... Why?"

Geto’s breath was hot against your collarbone as he leaned down, settling himself between your thighs. His hands ran over your legs, sliding higher until his thumbs pressed into the sensitive flesh just above your knees. The pressure was light but firm, grounding you as the heat pooling in your core threatened to consume you.

The rhythm of the song, slow and hypnotic, matched the steady, unhurried way he touched you. His hands drifted higher, spreading you further, his dark eyes locked on yours like he was watching for every little reaction—every stuttered breath, every shiver that ran down your spine.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, sending a shiver down your back. “I’ve got you.”

Your heart raced as his hands slid further up your thighs, teasingly slow, his fingers brushing against places that made your breath catch. His gaze held yours, steady and deliberate, as if daring you to look away—daring you to stop him, even though he knew you wouldn’t. The rain outside pounded against the car, drowning out the rest of the world, but inside, the only thing that mattered was the heat and pressure building between you two, rising steadily with each touch.

The song’s haunting refrain circled back again, wrapping you both in its dreamy haze.

"Cause you want more... Why?"

Geto smiled then, just the faintest curve of his lips, like he already knew the answer.

With an agonizing slowness, Geto's fingers slipped under the waistband of your bottoms, dragging them down over your hips. His touch was deliberate, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle. The cool air inside the car brushed against you as the fabric was peeled away, leaving you exposed, raw, and vulnerable beneath him. He discarded the clothing without a word, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

He paused for a moment, eyes dark and half-lidded as they roamed over you, taking in every detail—the way you trembled beneath him, the way your breath hitched at the absence of his touch. There was no pretense in his gaze, only hunger, and something even deeper: reverence.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and raspy, the words slipping out like a confession meant only for you.

The rain outside beat steadily on the roof, its relentless rhythm grounding you even as the heat between you both threatened to unravel everything. Then Geto dipped his head, a soft hum vibrating in his throat as he gave you exactly what you craved.

His mouth pressed to your inner thigh, feather-light kisses teasing their way upward, making you squirm beneath him. His hands spread your legs wider, holding you firmly in place, and then—without warning—he kissed you where you ached the most. The sudden contact made you gasp, fingers gripping the leather seat beneath you, your body arching into his touch.

"You want more... Why? You want more... Why?"

The lyrics played like a knowing echo in the haze of your thoughts, perfectly synchronized with every slow, deliberate movement of his mouth. He worked with maddening precision, every kiss and flick of his tongue designed to pull soft moans from your lips. The tension inside you coiled tighter with each passing second, the world narrowing down to the warmth of his breath and the feel of his hands gripping your thighs.

Geto’s dark hair brushed against your skin as he delved deeper, each movement slow and indulgent, like he had all the time in the world. The final notes of Art Deco faded into the background, leaving only the sound of rain—a steady, soothing beat that contrasted with the storm building inside you.

His name slipped from your lips, breathless and broken, and he smiled against you, his tongue teasing in response, as if answering a prayer you hadn’t dared to say aloud. The sound of the rain pounded harder on the roof, as if the storm outside knew it was merely a reflection of what was happening inside this car—of what Geto was doing to you, and how completely he had you under his control.

Geto’s mouth worked against you with renewed urgency, the teasing caresses of his tongue igniting the tension coiling tight within you. He picked up the pace, each flick and swirl more insistent, a melody of pleasure that made your breath come in sharp gasps. His hands held you firmly, fingers digging into your thighs as if he were anchoring you to the moment, keeping you grounded while everything else spun wildly out of control.

The rain outside thudded against the car like a frantic heartbeat, echoing the rhythm he set, intensifying with every second. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, his movements a perfect blend of teasing and relentless, coaxing you closer to the edge.

Every kiss was deliberate, each soft suck drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body moved against yours, a sensual dance that had you teetering on the brink of release. With every passing moment, the world outside faded further away, leaving only the intoxicating sound of the rain and the delicious friction between your bodies.

His tongue curled around you, pressing with just the right amount of pressure, while his fingers dug deeper into your skin, holding you in place, preventing you from squirming away from the overwhelming pleasure. You could feel your body responding, every nerve ending lighting up like a firework, an electric current surging through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Geto,” you gasped, your voice a desperate whisper, the heat pooling low in your belly, tightening with each movement.

He responded by speeding up even more, his mouth moving with a fervor that made your head spin. The sensation was dizzying, almost too much to bear, and yet you craved more. You could feel the heat of your impending climax building like a storm within you, a tidal wave crashing toward the shore.

“Please,” you breathed, fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer as if that would somehow draw you to the precipice faster. The plea escaped your lips without thought, raw and honest, and he seemed to take pleasure in it, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sly smile against you.

The tension coiled tighter, your body arching instinctively toward him, begging for release. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, his fingers found the sensitive spot that made your breath catch, applying pressure in just the right way. Your back arched, every muscle in your body tightening as the pleasure reached a fever pitch.

You could feel the world around you begin to blur—the rain, the music, everything fading into a haze as you spiraled closer to the edge. A gasp left your lips, the sound mixing with the drumming rain and the fading notes of the song, creating a symphony of need that filled the car.

“Let go,” he murmured against you, his voice low and sultry, urging you on, sending you tumbling over the precipice.

And with that, the world exploded around you, every nerve ending igniting in a brilliant flash of ecstasy as you succumbed to the wave of pleasure that crashed over you, drowning out everything else—the rain, the music, even the world outside—leaving only you and him in that stolen moment, lost in the heat of the storm.

With one last lingering kiss to your core, Geto pulled away, his lips glistening from the heat of your body. He moved back up, his dark eyes locked onto yours, an electric current crackling between you as he closed the distance. His kiss was urgent yet tender, the taste of you lingering on his tongue as he explored your mouth, the intimacy of the moment deepening with every brush of his lips.

You could feel the remnants of pleasure still pulsing through you, the heat radiating from your skin as he pressed closer, his body molding against yours. His hands slipped down your sides, fingers tracing your curves, grounding you in the moment as he poured his desire into the kiss.

Then, with a practiced movement, Geto shifted slightly, unbuckling his pants, the sound of the belt clasp echoing in the confined space of the car. Your breath caught in your throat as he released himself, the anticipation heavy in the air, thickening the tension that hung between you like a live wire.

He didn’t break the kiss, though, his mouth moving against yours with a slow, deliberate hunger, as if he wanted to consume you entirely. You could feel him hard against your thigh, the heat radiating from him as he pressed closer, drawing you deeper into this moment.

You could hardly think, the rush of emotions and sensations clouding your mind as he continued to kiss you, exploring the depths of your mouth, his hands roaming freely over your body, familiar yet exhilarating.

“Are you ready?” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot and laden with desire. There was a hint of mischief in his voice, the question both a promise and a challenge.

Your heart raced at the implications of his words. You nodded, breathless, caught in the intensity of the moment, ready to dive deeper into this wild, beautiful chaos with him.

With a swift movement, he positioned himself between your legs once more, the weight of him pressing against you, the world outside forgotten as he closed the distance again. The storm raged on, rain hammering against the car, but in this small, intimate space, nothing else mattered but the two of you—the heat, the desire, and the thrilling unknown that lay ahead.

Geto's body pressed against yours as he began to move gently, taking his time to savor every moment, every soft gasp that escaped your lips. His movements were deliberate, coaxing you into the rhythm, allowing your bodies to find their own pace. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the way your bodies fit together seamlessly, and it sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through you.

Each thrust was slow and measured, filling you completely, as if he was trying to imprint every sensation into your memory. He watched your face intently, gauging your reactions, that smirk returning as he saw the pleasure etched across your features. It was intoxicating, every breath and whimper drawing you closer to the edge again.

As the moments stretched on, the air thick with tension and desire, you could feel the ache within you growing, craving more. And just as the gentle rhythm began to lull you into a blissful haze, Geto shifted, picking up the pace.

The change was sudden, yet exhilarating. He moved with more urgency now, thrusting deeper, harder, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the car with an intoxicating rhythm. The car rocked slightly with each movement, the tension in the air crackling like electricity.

You gasped at the sudden intensity, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. The overwhelming pleasure built inside you, spiraling outwards with each powerful movement. His breath came in ragged bursts, the muscles in his arms flexing as he anchored himself above you, the heat between you rising to a fever pitch.

“Just like that,” you gasped, your fingers gripping his arms as you tried to pull him deeper, to feel every inch of him.

The rain continued to hammer down outside, each drop a reminder of the storm still raging beyond the confines of the car, but inside, everything else fell away. All that existed was the two of you—lost in the rhythm, the passion, and the electric connection that bound you together in this wild moment.

Geto leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this.” His voice was low, rough with desire, and it sent another wave of heat through you. You could feel the tension building inside you again, coiling tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

With each thrust, each flicker of pleasure, you felt the world outside blur into insignificance. The only thing that mattered was the way he moved against you, how every rough thrust sent you spiraling closer to that precipice of ecstasy, a beautiful, chaotic release waiting just beyond your reach.

Geto’s movements became more fervent, a primal urgency driving him as he picked up the pace even more. Each thrust was harder, more intense, the rhythm pounding like a heartbeat echoing in the confines of the car. You could feel the heat rising between you, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke, threatening to unravel you both completely.

In a moment of passion, he leaned down, biting gently at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as if to quiet the sounds spilling from his lips. The sharp sensation sent a jolt through you, igniting every nerve ending and making you clench around him tighter. The sweet mix of pain and pleasure made your heart race, a delicious thrill that heightened every feeling coursing through you.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he thrust into you with unrelenting force. You could feel him everywhere, the overwhelming connection intensifying with every movement, every gasp that escaped your lips.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, the heat radiating between you building toward a boiling point. You were both so close, teetering on the edge of release, the world around you fading away into nothing but the rhythm of your bodies. The sound of the rain pounding against the car was a mere backdrop to the symphony of pleasure playing out between you.

“Geto,” you breathed, your voice shaky and desperate as the tension within you reached its peak. Your nails dug into his back, urging him on, pulling him deeper, craving that sweet release.

His grip tightened on you, his pace becoming more erratic as he felt you clench around him, the pressure building as he whispered your name like a prayer. “Almost there,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. The intensity in his gaze burned into you, igniting something primal and raw as he pushed you both closer to the brink.

And then, in one final surge, it happened. The coil inside you snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over you like a storm, consuming you entirely. You cried out, the sound mingling with the rain as the world shattered into brilliant colors, every nerve in your body igniting in a blaze of ecstasy.

Geto followed right behind you, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he spilled into you, the force of his release matching the intensity of your own. The two of you finished together, bodies entwined in a beautiful chaos, the storm outside echoing the tempest that had just unfolded within the car.

As the last waves of pleasure washed over you, the world around you slowly came back into focus. The rain continued to pour, drumming a soft rhythm on the roof of the car, a soothing lullaby after the storm. You both lay there, breathless and intertwined, caught in the afterglow of what felt like an eternity.

As the last echoes of pleasure faded, Geto gently pulled away from you, his movements tender as he removed himself from your warmth. A soft sigh escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness, but he quickly drew you back into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort.

You nodded, a shy smile breaking across your face, the warmth of the moment still lingering. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, the sweetness of it a stark contrast to the wild passion you had just shared. “You did so good,” he praised, his voice low and husky. “I can’t believe how incredible you felt.”

The sincerity in his words sent a flush to your cheeks, and you melted against him, the intimacy wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Time seemed to stretch in the quiet, both of you basking in the afterglow, savoring the peaceful moment and the connection that had deepened between you.

But then, the tranquil atmosphere shattered as a loud knock echoed against the car window, jolting you both upright. You glanced over to see Gojo standing outside, soaked from the rain, his hair slicked back and droplets glistening on his skin. A gigantic smirk played on his lips, his usual mischievous demeanor on full display.

“Hey, you two lovebirds! Should’ve let me join!” he called out through the glass, his tone teasing, eyes sparkling with amusement.

You quickly covered your face with Geto’s chest, embarrassment flooding through you as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Oh my god,” you mumbled, mortified, wishing you could disappear into the fabric of Geto's shirt.

Geto sat there dumbfounded, staring at Gojo with a mix of disbelief and amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting back a smile. “What are you even doing here, Gojo?” he replied, trying to regain some composure, though the humor in his tone betrayed him.

You could feel Geto’s chest vibrating with laughter beneath you, and it only made your face burn hotter. The comfortable intimacy of the moment felt completely shattered, replaced by the embarrassment of being caught in such an intimate act. You peeked up at Geto, who was still trying to process the interruption, and then back at Gojo, who was leaning against the car, clearly enjoying the moment far too much.

“Seriously,” Gojo continued, shaking his head as he wiped some rainwater from his brow, “I didn’t know you two were into the whole 'rainy day' thing. Next time, let me know! I’ve got some good ideas to make it even more fun.”

You buried your face deeper against Geto’s chest, unable to hold back a soft laugh despite the embarrassment. The playful banter was familiar territory, but the blush on your cheeks reminded you that you weren’t just friends anymore.

Geto finally shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Shut up, Gojo. Just… get lost for a minute, would you?”

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, still laughing. “Alright, alright! Just remember, next time I want in on the fun!” With that, he stepped back, his laughter ringing in the air as he turned to walk away, leaving you and Geto in a bubble of both laughter and lingering tension.

As the rain eased up, the soft patter on the roof became a gentle reminder of the storm that had just passed. You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of the moment returning as you sank back against Geto, feeling safe and cherished, even amidst the chaos of your friends.

[asmrgiorelaxme]

Hammering RAIN Sound & Distant TRAIN Soothing Sleep Hygiene and Mental health + Teen Sleep tips

[novaursa]

a reader Velaryon was caught having an affair with her uncle Dareon Targaryen through letters and encounters. something that his mother or his brothers did not like very much She was locked in her chambers and then forced to marry her brother Jaracerys. After Lucerys almost died in Storm's Bastion if it weren't for the intervention of Reader who gave him a chance to escape. rader callus cold with fiber One day at dusk Dareon contacted one of Reader's maids who was still at his service after they had changed all the maids when they found out about the secret relationship they had. He asked her to help him get into Dragon Rock. He missed her after they locked her up and forced her to marry Jacaerys. He couldn't see her now. He knew she was sick. She needed him. the maid helped him She would wait outside in case someone came. They were scared to see Reader there alone in that bed, so weak, so fragile, consumed by fever when she touched her hands. She may have been delirious, but she whispered his name. She called him because she missed him. Then he heard the door open and turned around to see the maid being pointed at by Jacaerys's sword. jacaerys dareon stay away from my wife now could you write something like this please

Fevered Desires

- Summary: After you are stricken with fever in wake of saving your brother’s life above the Storm's End, you get an unexpected visitor.

- Paring: niece!reader/Daeron Targaryen

- Note: I hope this is what you had in mind. I've left in this only important information you've provided that can carry the scene in 1000 words and make it believable.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The faint sound of footsteps stirs in the halls of Dragonstone, though none but the most careful listener would hear them. The storm outside rages on, rain pelting against the stone walls, and the roar of the waves crashing below echoes faintly into the castle. You lie beneath heavy blankets, too fevered to notice much of the world around you. Sleep grips you tightly, yet it offers no solace, no respite from the heat that has settled deep within your bones. Sweat beads along your brow, dampening the pillows beneath your head. In your delirium, the fever carries you elsewhere, to memories and whispers that blur together like a forgotten dream.

A gentle touch brushes against your burning cheek. A familiar warmth lingers in the air, a presence you would know even in your sleep. You stir slightly, your lips parting to murmur his name. 

"Daeron..." The word is soft, barely more than a breath, but the sound is enough to reach his ears. His hand stills upon your face, his heart hammering beneath the layers of his cloak. In the dim light of your chambers, Daeron Targaryen stands over you, the hood of his cloak pulled low to shield his features. He shouldn't be here—he knows it, you know it—but he couldn't stay away. Not from you. Not when he heard of your fever, the illness that ravaged your body after the storm that nearly cost you your life. 

For a long moment, he simply watches you. Even in sickness, you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, though the sight of your pallor stirs a sharp pain in his chest. His fingers linger against your skin, as if hoping his touch alone could soothe the fever. His heart aches at the thought of you in such agony, but his presence here, in your chambers, is dangerous—more dangerous than he could have ever anticipated.

The door creaks open behind him, and Daeron's hand falls away from your cheek, his gaze hardening as he turns to face the intruder. Jacaerys Velaryon stands in the doorway, sword drawn, his expression a mixture of fury and disbelief. 

"Stay away from her," Jacaerys growls, his voice low but edged with the sharpness of a blade. He steps forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly as if ready to strike. His eyes are cold, dangerous, like the sea in the midst of a storm. "She is my wife."

Daeron's lips curve into a bitter smile, a cold, knowing smile. He straightens, turning slowly to face his nephew. "Your wife?" he repeats, his voice soft but dangerous. "She was mine long before she was yours."

The words hang in the air, sharp and heavy. Jacaerys' eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems as though violence is inevitable. The tension between them hums like a tightly drawn bowstring, ready to snap. But before either can move, you stir again, your fevered body shifting beneath the blankets.

Your eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, but then they settle on Daeron. His face, half-shadowed by the dim light of the room, softens as he looks down at you. His hand, warm and familiar, is wrapped around yours, the rough calluses of his palm a stark contrast to your fevered skin. 

"Daeron..." you whisper again, confusion and longing tangled in your voice. Your mind is clouded, your body weak, but the sight of him brings a surge of something—something you can’t name but have always felt. 

"Shh," Daeron murmurs, his voice suddenly tender, as though the world beyond the two of you has ceased to exist. His fingers tighten slightly around yours, a silent promise, an unspoken vow that transcends the walls of Dragonstone, the blood that binds and divides you.

Jacaerys watches, his jaw clenched, his grip on his sword faltering for a moment as he sees the way you look at Daeron. He’s seen it before, but now, now it feels like a knife twisting in his chest. "You don’t belong here," he snaps, stepping forward. His gaze flickers to you, then back to Daeron. "She’s not yours anymore."

Daeron’s eyes flash, cold and sharp. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" His voice is low, biting. "Do you think a few vows and a marriage bed can erase what we had? What we still have?"

Jacaerys’ face hardens, but before he can respond, a weak cough escapes your lips, your body trembling beneath the weight of the fever. Both men turn toward you, but it is Daeron who reaches you first, his hand brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead.

"She needs rest," Daeron says quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. "Not your anger. Not your sword."

For a moment, there is only silence. Then Jacaerys lowers his blade, though the fury in his eyes remains. "You have no right," he says, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "You lost that the moment we found your letters."

Daeron’s jaw tightens. "I lost nothing," he says, his voice firm. He leans down, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture so soft, so tender, it feels like a secret meant only for the two of you. "I will never lose her."

You stir again, your hand gripping his weakly, and Daeron glances down at you. "Rest now, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice like a balm. "I’m here."

Jacaerys stands there, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury, but in that moment, he knows he cannot banish Daeron. Not while you are like this. Not while the fever clings to you, making you vulnerable, fragile. But the storm within him is far from over, and as he steps back toward the door, he glances over his shoulder. 

"Don’t think this is finished, Daeron," Jacaerys warns, his voice low and dark. "I’ll make sure of it."

Daeron doesn’t look at him. His focus is entirely on you, his hand never leaving yours. "Do what you will," he says quietly, "but I will always come back for her."

[zablife]

Lee! Hope you're doing well 💋 so I so your prompt for the requests and if you're feeling inspired with this what about?

- ❛ I’ve killed for you. Who else can say that? ❜

with Tommy?

The Debt

Warning: Dark!Tommy 💀, mention of gun, blood, murder, trauma

You bit your hand to keep from screaming as the man in the long, black overcoat pushed you inside your small bedsit. The door slammed behind you as you stumbled toward the window, pushing the lace curtains aside with trembling fingertips. The remnants of blood were still there on the cobblestones beside the alley, though it was quickly being washed away in the driving rain.

Your memories of the violence carried out in your name would not be erased so easily. The bile rose in your throat as you thought of each shot striking its target, blood gushing over the pavement and splattering onto your shoes. You looked down to see the evidence of the stains that had ruined your new boots, an odd sensation washing over you as though you were staring at someone else's feet rather than your own.

"Come away from the window, love," a low voice rumbled across the room like thunder.

Your body shuddered involuntarily at the noise, a hand gripping the window ledge to keep upright. Feet uncooperative as your mind, you attempted to reply, but found yourself unable to dislodge the words from your brain. You shook your head fiercely, but the cotton headed feeling wouldn't budge.

The man scoffed at your disobedience, removing his coat to wrap around your shoulders protectively. He clamped a large hand over your shoulder, guiding you toward the little table in the corner. As he handed over a flask, he instructed, "Sit down and have some of this. It'll steady your nerves."

Suddenly you heard yourself stutter, "I...d-d-don't drink."

"Alright, tea then," he conceded. "Where do you keep it?" He leaned over you, eyebrow raised in question until your finger pointed in the direction of a far cupboard.

As he turned away, his gun came into view and your heart began to hammer at your ribcage until you thought you might faint. Pressing your fingers to your temples, you closed your eyes and attempted deep breaths. Eventually you pushed them out in labored waves, though your body was quickly wracked by sobs.

"Hey, hey...there's no need for tears," you heard the deep voice begin to soothe as you felt a warm cup being pressed into your palms.

Looking up through watery eyes, you sniffed, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Taking a seat opposite you, the man's crystalline blue eyes locked onto yours intently as he introduced himself as Tommy Shelby. "You don't know who I am?"

"No," you admitted. "I've only just arrived this week."

Tommy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That's what I thought. You'd never have taken that short cut if you'd known the sorts of bastards lurking."

A draft blowing through the crack in the windowsill crept across the back of your neck at that moment, triggering a phantom feeling of icy fingers upon your throat and you startled losing your grip on the china.

Tommy caught the cup before it landed on the floor, hissing as the hot liquid scalded his hands.

"I'm sorry, I felt his hands..." you mumbled, fingers tracing the delicate skin where the man from the alley had grabbed you.

"You've had a shock," Tommy stated, cleaning himself off with a rag. "But you needn't worry any longer. You're under my protection now." He stood with a determined nod, gathering his cap and placing it on his head.

For the first time that evening your shoulders relaxed and you breathed a sigh of relief. With a bit of effort, you banished the terrifying images of what you'd seen and tried to find good in the intimidating man before you. You even began convincing yourself it was fate that brought him to look after you in your new city.

However, as you stood to remove Mr. Shelby's coat, he casually announced, “You can bring it tomorrow when you see me about repaying your debt.” Then he proffered a business card.

You stared up at his chiseled face, partially covered in shadow. Unable to tell if he were serious. "I don't understand,” you admitted with a puzzled look.

Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, he pulled on a pair of black leather gloves. “So forgetful all of a sudden, aren't we," he scolded.

Your throat went dry, constricting painfully when you tried to swallow. "What do you mean?"

The leather cracked menacingly as he reached out to caress the apple of your cheek with the back of his hand. "I've killed for you. Who else can say that?" he reminded you in a voice far too flat and calm to offer affection.

Your eyes went wide as you searched his darkening pupils, panic shooting down your spine as you thought of what awaited you at the address printed on the card. The bit of paper shook violently in your hand as his thumb grazed your lips, leaving a powerful promise in his wake. "I've done something for you, now it's your turn."

When you bristled beneath his touch, he leaned toward your ear, a hiss escaping on his whisky scented breath. "I could return you to that alley if you like, but I think you'll find this arrangement far better." He turned without giving you a chance to protest. There was no need for once you owed a debt to Tommy Shelby, he owned you for life.

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

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[heretoobsessstuff]

Last line tag

Tagged by my love @joeyalohadream thank u <333 I have been in a little bit of a slump after having a mental breakdown and scrapping half of the fic but pls enjoy this little babe can I call snippet

John hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. He took a deep breath and gathered every last bit of courage he had to lean to closer. His knees pressed against the couch as he reached out slowly, his hand hovering for a moment, giving Gale space to back out. When Gale didn’t flinch or move away, John let his hand settle lightly against his jaw, cradling it delicately. His thumb brushed tenderly against his temple, testing the contact, ready to pull away.  Gale’s eyes fluttered shut but he made no move to pull away. Feeling brave, he moved his hand tentatively, letting his fingers stroke Gale’s hair. The strands were damp and cool from the rain, clinging to his fingers as he moved. He tried to keep a simple, gentle rhythm, trying to soothe him. He could feel the imperceptible tilt of his head as Gale moved into the touches. John’s heart was hammering in his chest. Another shaky breath escaped Gale, and John stopped, afraid he’d gone too far. He was about to lift his hand when Gale’s fingers wrapped gently around his wrist, holding it in place. He was bracing to be pushed away but Gale just held him there and rested his cheek against John’s palm, his grip trembling but firm enough to say stay.

tagging (no pressure ofc!) @alienoresimagines @majorbuckyegan @middlingmay @valstarsandgalaxies if they want <3

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Platonic Yandere John Wick Part 4

Inspired by @discoscoob

As he heads towards his desk, his mind is already occupied with the task at hand. He doesn't wait for a response from you, knowing that you are too exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed to provide one.

He sits down at his desk, his hands quickly moving over the keys of his computer. The click-clack of his fingers against the keyboard fills the air, his expression focused and intense.

It starts to drizzle outside, the pitter patter of rain sounds out as the droplets hit the skylights and the windows. Another thunderstorm is rolling in, it reminds you of when you were younger, not here with him. Your mother would be typing away on her computer on a rainy day as you fell asleep on the couch. You close your eyes and try to tell yourself that you're at home and it’s your mother who is typing.. and not him..

John continues to type, his fingers moving over the keys with practiced efficiency. He doesn't look your way, his focus completely on the task at hand. He knows you're there, he can sense your presence, but he keeps his gaze glued to his computer screen, his mind fully occupied.

The rain outside hammers hard against the windows, a steady rhythmic sound that continues to fill the room. The sound of it against the glass is almost like a soothing lullaby, lulling you further into your imagination, back to the image of home.

As you drift off into sleep, your exhaustion and emotional fatigue finally taking over, John continues to work tirelessly at his desk. He doesn't even notice that you've passed out and is completely absorbed in what he's doing.

The rain outside continues to pour, the steady drumming against the windows creating a soothing background for your sleep. John remains fixated on his computer, completely engrossed in his work until he glances up and realizes that you're now asleep.

He leans back in his chair, studying the slumped figure of you asleep on the couch. His expression is unreadable, his eyes taking in the sight of you, so vulnerable and exhausted.

A moment of silence passes, the only sounds in the room being the steady rhythm of the rain and the occasional click of John's computer keys. After a few moments, he stands and steps away from his desk, approaching the couch silently.

He watches you sleeping on the couch, your body relaxed and breathing steady. He thinks about how you seem so vulnerable and exhausted, and a sense of protectiveness grows within him. He thinks about what else he can do to make you feel more comfortable and relaxed.

He knows he has plenty of money to spend on you, and he's willing to invest it in anything that might help you feel better. Maybe a weighted blanket, a white noise machine, or some kind of entertainment. He's determined to find ways to pamper and comfort you.

After a few moments of contemplation, he heads back to his computer, his mind filled with thoughts about the things he can get for you. He's determined to get only the best for you, and he's willing to spend any amount of money to make you comfortable and pampered.

He opens up a few browser tabs, starting to look up different options to help you relax and unwind. He scrolls through pages and pages of online stores, comparing prices and features, determined to find the perfect items for you.

He spends an hour scouring the internet, carefully reading reviews and comparing different options for each item he's looking at. He considers various weighted blanket brands and materials, weighing the pros and cons and reading countless customer experiences.

He's meticulous and picky, determined to get the best possible product for you. After an hour, he finally settles on a few selections and puts them in his cart, feeling satisfied with his choices. Weighted blankets, a white noise machine, anything for you. Only the best.

He continues to add items to his cart, each one being carefully selected and thought out. He knows he has money to spend, and he's willing to spend it on anything that can bring you comfort and relaxation.

He adds a soft and soothing white noise machine that not only creates a calming sound but also helps drown out other disruptive noises. He also chooses a high-quality weighted blanket, made from soft and warm materials, hoping that the added pressure will help soothe your body and mind.

As he finishes adding the final item, he takes a step back, satisfied with everything he has chosen. He's confident that these purchases will help pamper and soothe you, and maybe even help you relax a little more.

With a soft click, he confirms the checkout, and orders the items he's chosen. The purchase is automatically confirmed, and the items he has ordered now begin to make their way to him, ready to be delivered to him and given to you.

He sits back, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he confirms the purchases. He knows that these items are on the way, and soon enough, he'll hand them over to you, hoping that they will help make you feel more relaxed and comfortable.

For now, he returns to his work, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts about taking care of you, making sure you're comfortable and well taken care of. The rain outside continues to pour, now joined by the sound of his keys clacking as he types away.

As you wake up on the couch, you are immediately met with the strong and distinct smell of freshly brewed coffee. Your eyes flutter open, and you notice John sitting at his desk a few feet away, his attention focused on a phone call.

He doesn't look up from the computer, but you know he's aware of your stirring. His hand is wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, the sound of his hushed conversation filling the air.

As you remain lying on the couch, still half-asleep, you hear John's low and quiet voice as he talks on the phone. His focus remains on the call, his face serious as he listens intently to whomever is on the other end.

Despite his attention being elsewhere, you can feel his gaze occasionally flickering in your direction, taking in the sight of your still-sleepy form on the couch.

Your throat feels dry and scratchy, you need some water. As you sit up and reach for the glass of water on the coffee table, John's eyes shift towards you, watching as you sip the water through the straw. He doesn't say anything, his expression still serious and intense as he continues his phone call.

His focus remains split between the conversation and your actions, a hint of concern flickering in his dark eyes as he takes in your tired and listless appearance.

You quickly finish the glass of water, craving more. You stand up, the glass still in your hand and the blanket still wrapped around you. You walk out of his office, down the hall, down the stairs and into his kitchen. You feel like you're on autopilot, your movements are slow and sluggish. His kitchen is very expensive looking, it's obvious that he has a lot of money. You get to the sink and refill the empty glass for more water.

Following you from a short distance, John remains silent as he steps down the stairs, his phone still pressed to his ear.

Despite his focus being on the phone call, his eyes never stray too far from your figure, monitoring your sluggish movements and the look of vacant exhaustion on your face.

You drink from the straw, the cold water soothing the itch in your throat. You don't notice that he has followed you downstairs as you stare out of the window above the sink.

John finishes his phone call, a click of the phone signalizing the end. He slips the device into his pocket and then silently makes his way towards you, his footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood floor.

As he reaches your side, his eyes rake over your figure, taking in your weary appearance and the way you're staring at something out the window.

As John approaches from behind, his hand suddenly rests on your forehead, causing you to jump in surprise. You hadn't even known he was following you, so the sudden touch causes you to fumble with the glass of water in your free hand, your reflexes just barely preventing you from dropping it.

He glances at the water in your shaking hand, his concern still evident in his eyes, but his tone is gentle, "Careful."

Feeling your temperature, John lets out a subtle frown, his expression a mix of concern and determination. He gently takes the glass of water from you, setting it down on the counter with a clink.

He notices the fatigue in your eyes and the way you're barely staying upright, and a sense of protectiveness washes over him. He clearly wants you to rest, his tone gentle but firm, "You need to lie down."

John gently cups your face, his fingers tenderly tracing over the bruise beneath your eye. His eyes dart over the bruised skin, his expression a mixture of irritation and concern.

He takes a step closer to you, his hand sliding to the back of your head, "Let's get you back to bed."

You are quiet for a moment, lightheaded and feverish. You know that you don’t have the energy to make it back upstairs. You swallow your pride once again.

“Can you…” You clench your jaw a little as you struggle to ask for his help. “Can you carry me upstairs..?”

John notices your hesitation and the way you clench your jaw, your pride clearly preventing you from asking for help. However, the moment the words leave your mouth, your request, soft and mumbled through the fatigue and fever, he immediately softens.

A flicker of surprise flashes across his face, but it's quickly replaced by a hint of a soft smile as he responds, "Of course, come here."

With a gentle, but firm grip, he wraps one arm around your waist and the other under your legs, lifting your body easily.

He slowly starts to carry you up the stairs, holding you securely against his broad chest. His grip is strong yet gentle, his steps steady as he navigates the way up to your bedroom. Every now and then, he glances down at you, taking in the sight of your closed eyes and your head resting against his shoulder. Despite his firm exterior, his expression is tender, and you can feel the protectiveness radiating off of him, like a father would hold onto his child.

As John carries you upstairs, he glances at the clock on the wall as you pass by, the small hands of the clock showing the time to be around 4pm.

He carries you into the bedroom and walks over to the bed, gently laying you down on the soft mattress. The sheets are crisp and cool against your skin, the smell of freshly-laundered fabric filling the room.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to you, his hand idly brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead.

He watches you for a moment, his hand gently stroking your hair, the motion soothing. His eyes track every move, every breath, every flicker of an eyelid, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and love.

He knows you're not in any condition to talk, but he continues to sit next to you, silently watching over you, making sure you're comfortable and that your fever doesn't worsen. His mind is occupied with thoughts, worries, and a sense of protectiveness that seems to grow even stronger.