#and then just. laying his body weight on me. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ccazimi · 2 days ago

Text

Milk

CW: smut, thighriding, dubcon(?), premature ejaculation, male lactation, breastfeeding, namecalling, 18+ MDNI

wc: 2.8k

A/N: legit no one asked for this im just having a self indulgent moment

You were contentedly sprawled across the cool silk fabric, the massive sea of dark red that made up the expanse of Sukuna's luxurious bedding. It carried his scent - faint notes of charred pine, incense, agarwood with just the slightest hints of his musk.

Such a delicious scent-

"Stop smelling my sheets." His disapproving voice came from somewhere behind you in his chamber.

"The come get in so I can smell you instead." You twisted your neck to search for him in the warm lambent light of the standing oil lamps.

"I'm...not tired." He was sitting on a cushion, draped in the black haori that encased his bare chest nearly entirely.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

Sukuna had been absent more than usual the last few days - you thought he was avoiding you on purpose so you gave him his space. But four days was reaching the limit and eventually you steeled yourself and marched to where his personal quarters were located in the back of the estate amongst a forested patch of land, and confronted him.

Upon seeing you he caved in and let you into his room, denying that there was any issue. You weren't the type that cared to play guessing games so you took his word for it and invited yourself into his bed that you'd missed terribly.

Sukuna was never especially talkative and there was a mutual tacit agreement that silence was perfectly fine between the two of you - comfortable, even. What was odd right now, however, was his physical proximity.

If there was one thing to be known about Sukuna, it was that he was a man of the senses - your time with him may be spent in verbal silence but his hands were always on you, nose in your hair or the crook of your neck, the tongue on his stomach idly tracing patterns on your skin whenever and wherever it got the chance to do so.

So why was he being so off right now? Practically hovering since the moment you'd arrived, almost strategically keeping some distance from you at all times.

Oh.

Sukuna's brows furrowed slightly in confusion as he watched your default mischievous demeanor fall.

"Have you...grown tired of my body, my Lord? Do I not please you anymore?" You asked quietly, suddenly feeling out of place in this bed that was too big for you.

"What?! No." Sukuna's eyes widened slightly as he abruptly stood up, pulling his haori closer together like he was cold. "What a stupid idea. Why would you think that?"

You looked up at his genuinely perplexed face, only adding to your own confusion. "Well...you haven't been around lately, and now you refuse to lay with me-"

Before you could even finish your sentence the futon was dipping from his weight beside you as he climbed in. Your face lit up at the welcome heat which always radiated from his body, sinking into your naked skin.

You turned back on your side so you could curl up as usual by his chest, waiting for him to settle in completely so that you could fall asleep - taking naps next to him in his bed was one of your favorite guilty pleasures.

Except he didn't settle in, opting to stay about an inch or two away from pressing his chest flush against your back. You realized he still hadn't taken off his haori either - odd for a man that preferred to be bare-chested most of the time.

In an almost reflexive action, you closed the small distance, finally relaxing all the way when you felt the support of his large muscular frame behind yours even though it wasn't skin to skin with all four of his arms around you like you would've ideally preferred.

But for a second you could've sworn you felt Sukuna tense, possibly even jolt slightly when you pressed yourself into his clothed chest.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." Sukuna snapped. "Why wouldn't I be?"

You rolled your eyes where he couldn't see, faced away from him. "Then why are you being so jumpy? Are you hungry or something? Seriously, what's the ma-"

"Shhh." A large hand clamped onto your mouth, effectively muffling your chatter. "Give me some peace, just for once."

You had half a mind to nip at the skin of his palm but being here in his bed after days felt so good, too good, and you found yourself quickly becoming drowsy.

A few minutes passed by, and from the hand loosening its grip over your mouth you knew Sukuna was relaxing as well, falling into his "resting" state as he would call it (he personally believed he was above actually sleeping like humans did, and considered himself above such inane needs). You were half asleep yourself, body settling in and molding into his by instinct until you were encased by the warmth seeping from him through the fabric of his haori.

And then you felt it.

"What is that?" You sat up to find all four of Sukuna's eyes wide open.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Can you just go back to sleep?" He raised an arm to shove you back down to the pillow.

"I felt something wet on my back." You squirmed against his hold, managing to twist your torso over to face him. "Were you drooling on me?"

Sukuna scowled, huffing in indignation. "No, I did not drool on you. Do you always have to be odd, woman? You're making a fuss over absolutely nothing."

You sat up fully, about to retort back when something caught your eye.

In his agitation, Sukuna hadn't noticed a rather noticeable wet patch had formed on the breast of his haori.

"What-" Before he could say anything you yanked the collar of his robe aside, your eyes widening at the sight.

Small pearlescent beads of a liquid had formed on his skin, around a pink nipple that had puffed up slightly.

"Are you... Is that..." Before he could do anything you quickly swiped away the other side of his haori, peeling it away to find the other nipple was inflamed slightly as well, with a sheen covering it indicating that-

"You're lactati-"

Sukuna pulled his haori to cover his pecs again, another hand once again closing over your mouth to keep you from speaking. "Shut. Up. Do not say a word." He growled through a jaw clenched so tight it looked like someone had burned him.

But it was too late, an impish grin unfurled across your lips under his hand, eyes shining in mischief at the state your king was in. You swiped a tongue across his palm before biting it, not hard enough to draw blood but enough for him to quickly draw his hand back in surprise.

"Fucking- you little fucking shit. What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

You were irritatingly fast when you wanted to be, swinging a leg over his body to climb atop his lap. Now you straddled him, the smug smirk on your lips growing by the second.

"Is that-"

"Don't say it."

"-milk?!"

He slapped a hand on his face, letting out a low growl of frustration. "Yes, its milk. If you say a word about it to anyone else I'm going to slice off your tongue and make you eat it. Now leave me alone." He demanded.

But neither his sharp glare nor threats could stop you as you opened his haori to expose his chest, gentler than before this time. "Don't worry I don't intend on telling anyone. It's not like I want to share anyways."

"Share? What are you..." Sukuna caught the look on your face. "No. Don't even think about it, I am serious- ahh"

His sentence ended with the closest you've ever heard Sukuna come to whimpering as your lips descended onto the ring of his right nipple. His reaction only spurred you on, and you quickly lapped up the droplet of milk that had collected and swallowed.

You weren't sure what you expected it to taste like, but it certainly wasn't this.

It was ironic how a man as angry and violent as Sukuna produced such a lovely tasting substance. His milk was mildly sweet with a slightly bitter aftertaste, like burnt sugar in the best way possible.

So fucking good.

His hand knotted in your hair in an attempt to pry you off from his nipple but your hands were already roaming his pecs, towards the other dripping bud. You rolled it between your fingers as you laved your warm tongue around his areola, feeling his chest heave under you while he began to pant. "Stop...it. You're so fucking weird-"

You rolled your eyes up at his strained expression and gave his nipple a hard suck before he could react. More liquid filled your mouth, almost as sweet as the look on his face. You greedily swallowed, suckling harder while massaging his full pecs with your hands.

"Mhm." You hummed around his skin as you felt a shiver run down his body.

"God, have- fuck, have some... decorum, woman." Sukuna was trying so terribly hard to keep his voice steady, the feat proving itself even more difficult when you decided to do the opposite of his request and lewdly swirl your tongue around, stimulating the area so more milk would flow.

You looked up at him, eyes hazy now in ecstasy, white liquid dripping from the corners of your lips as you fed. The sight was so dirty it sent blood rushing straight to his cocks and they rapidly hardened under where you were seated.

You released your mouth, detaching it from the wet and leaking patch of skin with a gossamer strand of saliva that broke away before flashing him another devilish look.

"You love this." You teased, with a grinding of your hips for emphasis to let him know his hard-ons hadn't gone unnoticed.

"You're not doing much better yourself, slut." With an opportunity to gain a little leverage over you, he gave a pointed glance to where your pussy sat on top of his clothed cocks, drenched in your leaking arousal.

You couldn't even pretend to be ashamed, though. "I can't help it. You taste so good, and you look so cute when you're embarrassed-"

"I'm not embarrassed," He gritted, "You're just violating me like the little freak you are."

"But you liked it."

"That's enough of this nonsense, get off me."

You pouted. "But your other tit is still full."

He looked at you in disgust. "Do not call it that."

You continued looking at him as he looked conflicted, deciding between his ego and pleasure.

"Fine." He finally ceded, much to your delight. "Do the other one." This time he guided your head to his other breast. "But be gentle for fuck's sake, they're sensitive-"

Whatever lecture he was giving you about being gentle had clearly fallen on deaf ears as you immediately latched your lips around his nipple and began sucking and nipping to no abandon.

You grinded on his cocks as you drank, feeling them harden even more under you.

"Slow - ah - down,"

But you only did the opposite, working over the tender flesh like you were starved. The milk trickled down everywhere, dripping down your chin and you could make out the faintest floral notes in it. The taste of him turned you on even more and you rutted against the outlines of his hard dicks, feeling the mess you were making on his hakama under your slick skin.

"Fuck, you filthy girl." The grip in your hair tightened, releasing an involuntary moan from your lips against his chest amidst the obscenely wet noises of your mouth. "I'm - fuck, fuck-"

Sukuna's hips jerked up, taking you by surprise as you felt his cocks twitching violently before his whole body stiffened as he bit down on his lips to keep himself from moaning out loud. Finally after a few seconds his muscles laxed, leaving you confused for a second before you felt the sticky, hot liquid soaking through his hakama and onto your thighs.

You smiled cheekily upon realizing, "Did you just..."

The look he was giving you was straight up murderous, and might have been enough to actually scare you if it weren't for the flustered pink that tinted his cheeks.

"Stop using your mouth to yap, and put it to use for once." He smirked, regaining his composure and though he'd already came his dicks weren't entirely soft yet beneath you. "Clean it up- since you love milk so much."

It was your turn to feel heat creep into your cheeks as the dynamic shifted and you understood you were being put back into your place with how he was grinning down at you. It didn't help the throbbing between your own legs.

You shifted down till your head was between his massive thighs, pulling off the hakama till his cocks were uncovered, still somewhat hard with blushed tips still sticky with drying cum. A hand wove into your hair, collecting it into a ponytail and lifting it to the side so he could get a good view as you eyes the viscous liquid smeared across the skin on his dicks and pelvis.

You stuck your tongue out, beginning with a single swipe through some of the liquid that had pooled on his skin above his top cock to taste it.

Salty.

It kind of complemented his milk, you thought.

This taste was one you were familiar with, though you loved it just the same. It showed in how you devotedly lapped at his skin, caressing it and closing your eyes to savor the taste of him on your tongue.

He breathed out at the sensation, running his fingers through your hair as he pet you. "Such a needy little cumslut." He purred. "Look at how greedily you drink my milk and my cum. And you were asking me if I was hungry?"

You squeezed your thighs together, trying to alleviate some of pulsing in your clit with the uncomfortable amount of wetness that had collected there. But the ache was too much, distracting you from cleaning the mess on his skin.

You looked up at him, eyes brimming with frustrated lust.

"What's the matter, pet? I didn't tell you to stop."

"I...need to cum. I don't think I can hold on any longer." You admitted breathlessly, looking up at him through your lashes as innocently as you could manage so that he'd forget about how you'd agonized him earlier and show some mercy.

You were met with a wolfish grin. "After what you pulled? I'm not laying a finger on your cunt. Figure it out yourself." He twisted your hair around his fist, shoving your head back down. "And get back to doing what I told you, slut. Do you have a problem following instructions?"

You bit your tongue, feeling irritated and unsatisfied even though you knew damn well you had this coming. You rubbed against his silken sheets as you bent over to go back to licking drying pools of his cum, sure you'd were making a mess on the fabric which provided no relief at all. Your hands roamed, fingertips skimming across the tops of his muscular thighs, tracing the dark tatted band that encircled them when the idea hit you.

You eagerly lifted your own leg to straddle a well toned quad, mouth leaving his skin for a second as you whined at the feel of his burning skin against your sex.

"I figured...it out...ahh, fuck." You bragged through small whimpers and moans as you grinded your sopping cunt onto the planes of muscle that adorned his thigh, tilting your pelvis forward so that your clit could rub deliciously along the firm curves.

Sukuna watched you hungrily, drinking in the sight of you getting off so brazenly on his thigh. "You're so fucking pathetic, you know that?"

"Mhm." You absentmindedly agreed, unable to care enough right now to preserve your dignity because of how good it felt. You dipped your head against and went back to sucking and licking the skin on and around his shaft, tongue dragging along in messy stripes as you humped his leg relentlessly, already feeling your pent up orgasm rearing its head.

"Just like that. Do I taste good, pet?" Sukuna asked though the both of you already knew the answer.

"Yes, yes! So fucking good." You babbled against his skin, desperately trying to get every last drop of his seed, wishing he still had more milk to spare.

He clenched his muscles and the sudden movement against your clit caused your orgasm to finally crash down on you, leaving you slack jawed and wide eyed at how sinfully good it felt.

You rode out your high, hips undulating back and forth until finally the last wave of your climax left your body limp. You collapsed onto his chest catching your breath.

When you felt yourself coming back to your senses, you crawled up to his chest and slapped a pec, earning a strangled noise from him. "So when are these things gonna fill back up?"

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noira-l · 19 hours ago

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𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Satoru faces the terrifying possibility of losing you because of someone else’s reckless mistake, but he manages to save you, bringing you back from the edge. Every touch, every word is filled with tenderness, his relief palpable as he steadies you, feeds you, and ensures you feel his warmth beside you.

warnings: near death experience from reader, description of wounds and limbs, blood, first aid (more or less adequate), "hospital" experience, Satoru is a menace (in general and to someone), hurt/comfort (a lot), a lot of caring from Satoru, full blown princess treatment for reader, pet names (princess), he is still teasing but worried.

author's note: This chapter is a little longer than I expected, but I hope you will still enjoy it c:

You lay sprawled on the floor.

Your breaths coming in ragged gasps, the taste of blood sharp and metallic on your tongue.

The ground beneath you felt warm.

You couldn't move your arm, you totally lost contact with the torn tissue. Your non-dominant hand tried to plug the hole that had formed at your abdomen.

Blood pooled around you, thick and dark, clinging to your skin and clothes, spreading beneath your body like ink on paper. Coldness began to creep in, sinking through your muscles, and with it, an unbearable heaviness.

Everything hurt you, it hurt so much.

You were so tired, sleep clawing at the edges of your mind, whispering promises of release.

You knew you didn't have much time.

You glanced out of the corner of your eye one last time, far away, to the exit of the domain that you made so that everyone could escape. Not everyone made it, you didn't have enough strength to hold the way of escape. People screamed and fled deeper into the dark, chased by the curse - leaving you alone.

With a quivering hand slick with blood, you managed to grab your phone, its surface smudged and smeared from your grip. Your thumb trembled as you unlocked the screen, the faint glow casting pale light onto your weary face.

You dialled the first number from your recent calls.

It's worth a try, maybe this domain is still weak enough that the phone signal will manage to get through.

Even the phone seemed heavy to you. You could feel yourself slowly choking as blood rushed to your throat from internal bleeding.

The call connected, and his voice filled your ear, casual, warm, blissfully unaware.

"Hey~ Relax, I know what you're calling for. I can cook that ramen. Got the recipe right here. I've got it all under control!" in the background, you could hear the shuffle of kitchen utensils, the clinking of pots and pans. There was comfort in that sound, familiar, so ordinary.

"Sato…ru.." you rasped, your voice barely more than a breath, your mouth filling with blood as you struggled to speak.

The noise on his end stilled in an instant. Silence fell, tense and sharp.

"Where are you?" his voice was hard, worried, so different from the playful tone he’d used just seconds before.

You tried to answer, but your throat was full, each breath a struggle against the liquid heat rising up, drowning your words.

You managed to roll onto your side. You hissed as you shifted, pressing weight onto your injured arm. Blood escaped from your throat, allowing you to speak a little.

“Civilians... inside the domain..." you whispered, voice thin and fragile, every syllable a labor of will "Two curses.... the other still... lives..." you could hear a sharp clatter from his end, something falling, maybe a knife or a spoon, maybe something heavier, but it was all blending into the haze.

"Where are you, answer me (Y/N)!"

But you didn't listen, trying to gave him important information before your gone.

"Hit the mirror..." you coughed ".. when your done, it's outside."

"Damn it! Answer me!"

"I'm.. not gonna make it.." you paused, feeling your consciousness slipping away "I’m so sorry, ‘toru…" you whispered, dropping your phone on the floor.

Darkness closed in, thick and final, but just before it claimed you, you thought you heard him calling your name, his voice taut and desperate, reaching through the static

★ --

"Shoko! Get over here, now!"

The hospital doors flew open as he appeared, and he didn’t bother to hold back his voice, shouting Shoko’s name with a force that echoed down the sterile hallways

The intensity was enough to scatter anyone who dared cross his path, medical staff and sorcerers alike stepping back, wide-eyed and fearful as Satoru strode forward, not slowing, his face an icy mask of resolve.

"Get out of my way!" he snapped at anyone lingering in the halls, his voice sharp and carrying a barely controlled fury.

Despite his quite controlled exterior, his mind was racing, worry clawing at him like he’d never known. His thoughts clung to the what-ifs, the questions he never let himself think but now couldn’t ignore.

Had he made it in time?

He looked at you.

You looked like a small, battered doll. Your eyes almost lifeless, your expression petrified. The cursed energy in your body barely glimmered. He hugged you tighter to himself, pulling your limbs tighter to hold you even tighter.

"Hold on, please - we're almost there." he murmured, more to himself than to you

Please, please, please stay with me.

He turned to the left corridor.

He found her, and relief mingled with his urgency. Shoko took one look at you in his arms, the blood trailing from your side, the limp, lifeless way your arm hung by a thread, and her face paled, a steely focus settling into her gaze.

"Put her down here." Shoko ordered, snapping out of her shock.

She had no time for questions, no time for explanations. She turned to her assistants, barking orders with a precision born of experience "Prep the room. I’ll need blood transfusions - check her chart, sutures, cursed energy patches - everything we have."

Satoru laid you down on the nearest examination bed, his movements almost mechanical, though the tremor in his hands betrayed the turmoil within him. He stepped back only enough to allow Shoko space to work, his jaw clenched as he watched her assess your injuries.

The assistant returned with everything Shoko had ordered.

"Do you know how much blood she's lost?" she asked hurriedly, putting on gloves and a face mask.

"A lot" was all he could say.

She began with your shoulder, examining the nearly severed arm hanging grotesquely by a strip of muscle and skin. Blood soaked through her gloves as she lifted the limb carefully, eyes dark with concentration.

“Her arm is barely attached,” she muttered under her breath, reaching for a clamp to stem the blood flow “The wound is extensive, torn straight through muscle and tendons.”

Shoko’s assistant hovered nearby, their faces set in grim concentration as they handed her the tools she needed.

"Stop the bleeding in the lower abdomen." ordering one of the astists, she turned to the other "And you start the transfusions."

Satoru stayed silent, his gaze fixed on you, his body taut as he watched her work.

Shoko’s hands moved deftly, sealing off the worst of the blood loss with a cursed energy barrier, pressing her hands to the wound as she worked to restore circulation to your arm. Her reverse cursed technique glowed faintly, a steady stream of healing energy pulsing through your battered shoulder as she mended the torn tendons, weaving muscle fibers back together with meticulous care. The procedure was painstaking, every inch of the damage requiring careful attention, but Shoko’s focus was unshakable.

She had to stabilise you - that was the priority.

Then her hands took care of your stomach.

It took maybe 5-7 minutes, however, for Satoru everything lasted like hours. He had to stand and watch as a group of people covered the view of you.

"How bad is it?" his voice broke through the silence, rough and strained. He wanted any information. Any confirmation that he had made it in time.

Shoko glanced up, her expression guarded. “She’s lost a lot of blood. The damage is severe." she was specific and gave facts. As usual. There was no point in lying to him.

“This..." she traced the torn flesh of your shoulder carefully "It’s so close to major arteries. We’re lucky she made it this far."

Satoru’s fists clenched, his gaze dark as he watched her press a gauze pad to your side, the blood staining it immediately.

"I got here as fast as I could." he murmured, barely more than a whisper, his voice laced with an emotion he seldom showed.

He drifted away in thought for a moment.

Slipping into his mind.

The room seemed too bright and the blood everywhere too dark. The noise of the medical machines was disturbed by the sound of his pounding heart.

His gaze lingered on the trail of blood just below his feet, leading directly to your bed. He watched the small spots on the floor, and observe as they getting bigger, literally growing before his eyes, consuming his shoes.

The sight of your body in a pool of blood flashed through his mind.

Over, and over, and over.

And over again.

Shoko's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

To her, Satoru simply stood with his head bowed down, stone-faced.

"Gojo. Her condition is stable. Please wait outside, I will take care of everything now."

Satoru noded, his shoulders slumping.

He moved closer to the bed, he put his hand on your palm, squeezing it lightly, before turning to Shoko.

"Thank you, Shoko." he murmured, his voice barely audible.

He glanced at you again before leaving the room, watching you disappear again behind a curtain of people who were trying to keep you alive.

He knew what he had to do now.

★ --

Satoru appeared after a while in the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor as he walked.

An energy pulsed off him in waves.

The air around him felt charged, almost volatile, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by something colder, something that made those nearby shrink back. His gaze was concealed behind the bandages, his expression was unreadable, a stone mask that gave nothing away.

From her spot by the wall, Shoko watched him with a wary gaze, a cigarette still held between her fingers as she blew out a last puff of smoke.

Her hard work has paid off - she has stabilised you.

She took in the scene as he approached - the smears of blood staining his jacket, the dark flecks of cursed energy lingering in the air around him, and the deep, cold set of his jaw. She could only imagine the wreckage he’d left behind, the remnants of whatever curse had dared to harm you.

As he neared her, he drew a white handkerchief from his pocket, unfolding it with calm precision. Shoko’s eyes followed the movement, noting the slight tremor in his fingers as he began methodically wiping away the purple blood splattered across his hands.

He moved slowly, almost obsessively, wiping each knuckle, each crease, as if trying to erase every trace of what he’d done.

"Did it suffer?" she asked.

Satoru finished wiping his hands, folding the bloodstained cloth neatly before pocketing it. He didn’t answer immediately.

"More than enough." he replied after a while, his voice like steel.

The famous Gojo Satoru getting his hands dirty.

He glanced back toward your room, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. The fury that had burned in him faded, replaced by the exhaustion.

"Can I… see her?" his voice was low, uncharacteristically tentative.

Shoko nodded "Yes, the worst is over, she’s sleeping now."

"Thank you - again." he gave her a nod.

Without thinking, he approached the door and pulled gently on the handle, entering the room quietly.

Shoko saw that for a moment, he was the man who'd rushed to your side, not the sorcerer who’d torn through curses with cold precision.

★ --

The soft hum of teleportation barely registered as Satoru reappeared in his own home, the familiar surroundings both grounding and jarring. The scent of something burnt hit his nose first, and then he noticed the plume of smoke curling up from the kitchen. His stomach sank. He’d left the ramen on the stove, the pot now emitting a dark, acrid smell.

"Do you have any idea what you almost did!?" Megumi yelled, his tone sharp "You left the ramen on the stove - almost burned down the kitchen!"

Satoru opened his mouth to respond, maybe to offer a laugh or a joke, but the words died as Megumi's gaze softened, his expression changing as he took in Satoru’s face. The stone face, the faint streaks of blood on his collar, the tension that lingered despite his attempts to relax. Megumi’s scolding faded, and worry took its place. Tsumiki who appeared next to him had the same look on her young face.

"I’m sorry about the ramen, kiddo. I was… distracted. Something happened." Satoru’s tone shifted, calm and steady, though a note of heaviness remained "There was an accident. Your mom... she got hurt pretty badly, but she’s in good hands now. She’s being taken care of."

Both kids froze, their faces mirroring an all-too-familiar look of fear. Tsumiki’s hands flew to her mouth, and Megumi’s normally composed demeanor broke, his eyes wide "Is she going to be okay?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Can we see her?" Tsumiki asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes." Satoru assured them, placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders "She’s stable now. She’s safe." he paused, his voice softening as he added "You’ll be able to see her soon. I’ll take you both to visit her in a day or two, once she’s rested a bit. Or maybe she'll even be home by then."

The kids nodded, though their expressions were still clouded with worry. He offered them a head pat and reassuring smile, one that felt fragile even as he gave it, before excusing himself to gather a few things for you.

Satoru went to your shared room, pulling together a bag of things you’d want with you. He packed the essentials - clean clothes, hygiene products, a book you hadn’t finished yet with the worn bookmark you always used. His hand lingered over his softest pair of socks, slipping them into the bag because he knew how cold you got in clinic rooms. He added a few of your favorite snacks, the ones you always reached for on the top shelf, and finally, a small cushion from the couch that still held a trace of your favorite scent. He knew these were just small things, but they felt like tiny comforts he could offer to make you feel a little less alone when you wake up.

After he’d packed everything, Satoru paused in the quiet of the apartment. The kids had gone to bed, their lingering glances filled with worry and questions they hadn’t voiced.

He took a deep breath, trying to quiet the aftershocks of fear and anger that had burned through him. His fingers curled around the strap of the bag, as though anchoring himself in the thought of seeing you again, of bringing these small tokens of home to you.

He tried everything to prevent his mind from racing again.

With one last glance at the quiet apartment, he teleported back to your hospital room.

★ --

Light, more brightness.

More noise.

And more pain.

Your eyes flutter open, everything slowly coming into focus. A heaviness settles over your body, a dull ache throbbing in every limb. As you shift slightly, you catch sight of the IV needle taped to your hand, a soft bandage wrapped around the other, the skin numb, likely due to the strong meds they’d pumped into your system.

You exhale, bracing yourself as you slowly rise into a semi-sitting position, feeling the stiffness in your muscles protesting with every movement.

You made it through.

You're alive.

He saved you.

You knew it, you didn't see or feel him coming for you, yet only he would be able to get to you so quickly. No one else would have been able to help you.

Gratitude wells up inside you, mingled with the lingering haze of exhaustion. You don't know how to thank him. You would like to repay him in every bit of your existance.

You feel like you could lie there for hours, let the heaviness of sleep pull you back under. But, despite it all, you can’t ignore the small flicker of relief that you’re still here.

You survived today to die tomorrow.

It’s been an hour or maybe two when you tried to be awake - time’s hard to gauge in this half-dazed state.

The thought crosses your mind - just how long did you sleep?

You squint at the dim light seeping into the room, but there’s no sense of time here.

You start to egzaminate yourself.

Your dominant hand feels strange, disconnected - it’s there, resting on the blanket, but no matter how much you try, you can barely move it. The faintest twitches respond to your will, but there’s almost no control, like it’s not quite part of you. It’s unsettling, a reminder that your body has been through more than it can comfortably handle.

You pull the duvet, taking in the scattering of bruises and scratches that color your legs, each one a map of the recent battle. Carefully, you place your other hand on your hip, fingers brushing over a new scar, raised and raw, but without the sharpness of stitches. You can touch it, sure, and yet your senses are muted, dulled under the weight of painkillers coursing through your system. There’s a heaviness in your head too, a sluggishness, that made you almost sloppy.

It's not so bad - you need to thank Shoko. You could feel that she's not finished yet, she probably didn't have the strength anymore, so she made what she could.

At least you had an arm, right?

A glance around the room brings your eyes to the chair beside the small cupboard. On it sits a familiar black bag, half-zipped, with the fabric bulging slightly from the careful packing. Resting on the cupboard is your book, its cover worn, your favorite bookmark peeking out from between the pages. A small smile tugs at your lips despite the discomfort.

You reach toward the bag, tugging it closer, the weight of it almost too much as your fingers dig into the straps. With effort, you haul it onto the bed, wincing as the motion tugs at sore muscles. Slowly, carefully, you unzip it, peeling back the top to reveal neatly folded fabrics inside. Clean clothes, hygiene products, snacks, a big sweater that’s unmistakably Satoru’s, and a pair of warm socks - those oversized ones you’d always borrowed.

You smile, the simple sight of them lifting your spirits just a little. Satoru’s little touches are everywhere in this moment; he’d thought of every detail. With a bit of effort, you tug on the socks, feeling their warmth, thanking him for thinking of your poor, cold limbs.

You looked at the sweater.

Your gaze shifts to the doorway, lingering a moment to ensure no one is around. The hall outside is empty, and the door to your room is slightly ajar, but not a soul is passing by. Satisfied, you turn back to Satoru’s sweater, drawing it closer, letting your fingers sink into the soft fabric, drowning in the scent of his cologne mixing with something unmistakably him - a warm, comforting aroma that always brings you a sense of calm.

It’s not your fault he smells so perfect; you’d picked out that cologne yourself, after all, and it suits him like nothing else.

You allow yourself a quiet smile, eyes still closed, feeling both comforted and amused at how easily his scent seems to chase away the chill of the room.

Gritting your teeth, you try to sit up, sliding your legs slowly toward the edge of the bed. A hiss escapes your lips as the pain bites sharply, sending a wave of discomfort through your side. You pause, steadying yourself, breathing through the sensation. You see that he brought you disposable flip-flops, that were lying next to this side of the bed.

You’re just getting used to the discomfort when Shoko enters the room, her expression composed, professional, her posture radiating a calm authority. There’s a brief flicker of warmth in her eyes as she sees you awake, but it’s quickly replaced by her focused, clinical gaze. For a moment, you’re not her friend lying here in a hospital bed but her patient.

She steps closer, her eyes sweeping over you with that practiced precision, assessing every visible sign of injury.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her voice soft yet purposeful, each word measured, carrying an undercurrent of genuine concern.

"I’m… here." you manage, letting out a weak chuckle "Can barely feel my hand, though. Just feels… dull. Heavy, I guess. Thank you for saving me."

She nods, her brow furrowing as she shifts to examine your hand. Her touch is careful, her fingertips pressing lightly along your arm, tracing the lines where numbness blurs into sensation.

"No problem. You’re feeling dullness in the hand?" she repeats, more to herself than to you, her mind clearly already analyzing what’s needed.

"Yeah, like I know it’s there, but it’s not exactly responding the way it should" you explain, trying to move your fingers slightly but finding only minimal response.

Shoko mutters something under her breath, her gaze fixed on the IV as she reaches to adjust it.

"Alright, I’m putting this drip on hold for now." she announces, her tone shifting briefly into one of practiced command. She carefully unfastens the line, leaving the cannula still in place "I don’t want to remove this completely yet. I’ll need it again tomorrow. For now, though, I want things to stabilize a bit on their own."

You watch her work, noticing the subtle exhaustion in her movements "So… you’ll take care of it tomorrow?" you ask, curiosity slipping into your voice.

Like, you want to have an a functioning arm - if it's avaiable?

She nods, her gaze softening for a moment as she steps back, folding her arms and glancing at the IV "Yes. Your arm should start feeling more normal by then, but I need to let things knit together a little first. And, honestly…" she pauses, rubbing her eyes briefly "I don’t have the strength right now. I’ll be more useful tomorrow, after I get some rest. I'm sorry."

You thank her and study her, seeing the weight of her own exhaustion etched faintly in the way she holds herself, the way she sometimes blinks a little longer than usual. Her commitment to her work is unmistakable, but you catch the signs that even she is running low.

"How long did I sleep, anyway?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"Almost two days." she replies, her voice calm, matter-of-fact. Her gaze shifts back to you, assessing your response as though you might suddenly react to the news.

Your brows rise "Two days? That’s… a long time."

Shoko shakes her head slightly.

"Not really. Honestly, after the state you were in, I thought you might be out for a week." she crosses her arms, her gaze steady "You lost a lot of blood, and you nearly lost a limb. Two days is impressive recovery for you."

You nod slowly, absorbing her words, realizing how close you must have come to something worse. The weight of it settles on you, a quiet reminder of just how lucky you are to still be here.

"So… Satoru’s out on a mission?" you ask, hoping to change the subject, if only to lighten the mood a bit.

Shoko reaches up, twirling a strand of her hair thoughtfully "He left a few hours ago. But he should be back later. He sat by your side the whole time." her gaze flickers to the door, as if expecting him to walk in at any moment.

You nod, a small, relieved sigh escaping you "Understand."

You wonder what the kids must feel. They probably know about your condition.

Shoko settles into a chair beside your bed, glancing down at her notes, then back up at you. There’s a hint of something in her gaze - frustration mixed with lingering concern. She takes a breath, her voice soft but firm.

"It's a miracle, really. You almost didn't make it." she says, her tone steady, but her eyes hold a fierceness that surprises you "All because someone couldn't do thier job correctly."

Your brows furrow as you try to recall the details of the mission, piecing together what you remember. Everything comes back in flashes.

Endo Kyō, the assistant who was assigned to you and participated in that mission with you.

By your arrival, his job was to secure the area and assess the threat. According to his analysis, there was a grade one curse in the domain.

In fact, there were two curses in the domain. However, you had no idea about this.

One was trapped in the domain of the other - the one that attacked you first inside, wasn't responsible for the domain. You knew something was wrong when, after killing this one, the domain didn't start to disintegrate. You thought it was a matter of place or vail that the assistant should apply. Through the effect of the domain, you were unable to effectively sense the presence of the other one on time.

You were outclassed.

The second curse emerged just as you were making a hole in the shell so that civilians could safely leave the area.

You got hit, unable to dodge the attack.

"He seemed fine as a person, maybe a little weird. He's new, mistakes happen. Like... I remember my beginnings. He'll learn." you sigh resignedly.

Shoko’s expression sharpens, a seriousness in her eyes that makes you pause "He’s not new." she says flatly.

"Huh?"

"He originally worked in Kyoto. He was transferred here after a similar incident, a really similar case." you listened in disbelief, looking at Shoko with wide eyes.

"And..." she continued "Because he has connections with higher-ups, it was decided to transfer him disciplinary to our grounds, rather than dismiss him for his apparent negligence." her words sink in like a stone, leaving you in stunned silence.

You stare at her, the shock sinking in like ice. Your fists clench at your sides, the dull ache in your hand momentarily forgotten as your fingers press into your palm. You are livid.

What a fucking asshole.

Shoko watches you, her own expression dark.

"Well... Gojo had an even worse reaction." she says quietly, glancing down as if recalling the scene.

"What do you mean?"

"Gojo found out what Endo did not long after you were brought in." she begins.

Oh no.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that. He marched right up to Endo and tore into him. It was… intense." she stated "He didn’t even gave him a chance to speak before he cornered him, demanding to know if he had any sense of care at all. Told him that as a assisnant, he should take his comrades’ lives as seriously as he takes his own and that his failure is just as spectacularly dumb as he is."

She goes on, eyes narrowing "He pointed out every mistake and every omission to him as if he had no filter. I guess he controled himself a little at least, because he looked like he was fighting not to snap. The guy nearly passed out there."

You couldn't believe what you were just hearing.

"In the end he said something along the lines that if he saw him near his wife again - he won't hold back and won't care if someone is watching, he'll just kill him on the spot."

★ --

After some time a pang of hunger twists in your stomach, and the uncomfortable reminder that you’ll need the bathroom soon follows.

You try to get up again, struggling with the same discomfort as before.

"Oh no~ The sleeping beauty is already up and I missed the wake-up kiss." you heard his voice behind you. You chuckled weakly. He goes around your bed.

Despite his lighthearted words, you can sense the undercurrent of concern beneath them. You can see it more when he comes closer a heaviness, a weight that’s hard to miss.

"You really shouldn’t be getting up, princess." he murmurs, his fingers gentle and lingering as they steady your shaking body "Wouldn't want you losing a glass slipper on the way to the bathroom, would we?"

You roll your eyes, managing a faint laugh "Wrong princess, you dork. You don't have to help me, I'll manage somehow, you did enough for me." you try to be polite, but a hiss escape your lips, when you stand for a first time.

"Consider it royal decree: this dork is helping you, no arguments." he replies, slipping his arm more firmly around you despite your protest, his playful tone does little to mask the concern in his eyes as he holds you steady.

Together, you make your way out into the corridor, Satoru guiding you carefully, matching his steps to your slower pace. His hand never leaves you, and he keeps glancing over, checking on you, asking if you’re alright, if anything’s hurting more than it should. You answer quietly, pointing out the sharper aches and the duller bruises. The warmth of his arm around you, his attention, feels steadying, grounding you in a way that’s as comforting as it is unusual.

But of course he had to tease you a little bit.

"You know, for a princess, you’re not exactly gliding gracefully down the hall. Need me to summon some royal attendants to carry you on a velvet throne?"

You scoff, wincing slightly as another sharp ache flares up "No throne required. I’ll walk, thank you very much."

He chuckles, adjusting his hold on you "Brave as ever. But if you start fading from exhaustion, I’m totally picking you up. Wouldn’t want you fainting and having to explain to the entire staff how their little Sleeping Beauty managed to end up on the floor."

You roll your eyes, his teasing both comforting and mildly embarrassing "They’d have to call you Prince Charming in that case, huh?"

Satoru grins, dramatically flicking an imaginary cape over his shoulder "I knew you saw it in me. But don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine with just ‘Your Highness’ for now. ‘Prince Charming’ can wait for special occasions."

The faint murmur of clinic activity surrounds you, and as the two of you walk through the corridor, you catch a few people glancing your way, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Satoru doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care. He’s focused on you, steadying you with each step, his hand firm yet gentle on your side.

His words are teasing, playfull as ever. But his touch is delicate, caring - and it's making your heart flutter.

When no one’s around, you feel his fingers subtly adjusting the back of your hospital gown, and though he doesn’t mention it, you know it’s his quiet way of looking out for you.

When you finally reach the bathroom, he stops just outside, his arm slipping away but his gaze fixed on you with an almost exaggerated seriousness "Now, don’t go pulling a Cinderella and sneaking away, alright? I’ll be here if you need me to hold your royal gown or anything. Very dignified service - I’m quite experienced."

You chuckle despite yourself, finding his lighthearted support surprisingly pleasant "Yeah, sure, I’ll call my ‘knight in shining armor’ if I need any bathroom assistance."

He smirks, leaning casually against the wall "Good. Because a princess should never have to face a hallway alone."

You linger in the bathroom a moment, catching your reflection in the small, unflattering mirror. Your face stares back, hollowed with exhaustion, skin pale and dull under the fluorescent light. Your hair clings in greasy strands, reminding you just how long you’ve been out. It's strange seeing yourself this way - vulnerable, worn down, every bruise and shadow a testament to the last ordeal. Your outfit must be pretty ridiculous too with his oversize sweater, hospital gown, oversized socks and slippers.

Your look is not very princess-like.

You wonder if you should talk to him about what happends now.

However, you conclude that it is better to wait until you return from your meal so that you can talk to him in peace, unless he is called away on a mission.

When you step out, Satoru’s waiting right there, his hand reaching out to take yours. The familiar warmth of his touch steadies you, grounding you once more.

"What else does my princess need?" he teases softly, his tone light yet gentle "A breakfast feast? A little pampering session?" you pass him a tired smile, there’s still a glint of mischief in his tone "How about I whisk you off to your favorite ramen place? I could get us there in two seconds flat."

"As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think I could handle being teleported just yet. And I don't like it that much." you laugh, shaking your head. You wouldn't go anywhere in this outfit anyway.

"Right." he nods, pretending to think it over "Hmm. Guess the royal express is on hold today. "he says with a mock sigh of disappointment "Alright, we’ll go with the classic approach - school cafeteria it is. Nothing but the finest cuisine for you."

It's been a long time since you ate food from the school canteen. You wonder if it's as dull and bland, as it was back in your school days.

With a reassuring squeeze, he guides you down the corridor, his arm firmly around you as you both navigate to the a small room. A tiny, cramped and bright room, with a few tables, coffe maschine and a microwave, where the medical assistants usually take their meals. The antiseptic smell is a sharp contrast to the warmth of his arm and his steady presence beside you, as though he’s somehow blocking out the cold, sterile atmosphere.

When you reach the cafeteria, he gently seats you on one free table. He gently steers you into a seat, his hands lingering for a moment as if making sure you’re settled.

"Now, stay put." he commands lightly"Can’t have the princess fainting. I’ll be back in a flash."

You take a moment, resting your head back against the seat, allowing the gentle hum of the cafeteria to settle around you. It’s oddly peaceful here, the faint murmur of voices blending with the rhythmic clatter of dishes.

It’s only a few moments before he’s back, a tray laden with food and drinks balanced effortlessly in his hands. He grins, setting it down with a flourish "Behold, a feast fit for a princess." he declares, gesturing grandly to a couple of steaming bowls of soup, a small pile of rice, orange chcicken and some kind of dessert.

You raise an eyebrow, but you smile a little anyway "I think you might be confusing 'princess' with 'army,' but thank you."

"Look, every princess deserves options. You don’t know what royal cravings might strike once you start eating." he starts to lay everything out on a small table.

You laugh, the sound softer than usual but genuine "Well, I appreciate the royal treatment."

His gaze softens, the usual teasing glint tempered by something warmer "You deserve it." he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You're looking at him, your eyes a little wide, you're holding on a little blush.

You give Satoru a grateful smile as he hands you the cutlery, and you gave each other quick "Itadakimasu" before digging in. Satoru starts eating right away, taking his first bite with his usual relaxed ease, but as you reach for your chopsticks with your non-dominant hand, reality sinks in quickly.

After a few frustrating tries, you reach for the spoon, hoping it’ll be easier, only to watch a scoop of soup drip right back into the bowl.

Well.. this is embarresing.

Satoru’s gaze flicks to you, catching the small, defeated sigh you let out as you set the spoon down. Quietly, he puts his chopsticks aside and shifts his chair closer, his expression warm and amused as he leans in without a word.

You glance at him, brow raised in surprise "What are you doing?"

"What’s it look like?" he murmurs, reaching for the spoon and swirling it through the soup with exaggerated elegance "Need a hand, princess?"

You raise a brow, a mix of embarrassment and exasperation flooding through you "Satoru, you don’t have to - "

"Oh, but I’m honored to assist." he interrupts, holding the spoon up with a little flourish "A princess deserves only the finest dining experience, after all." his grin is maddeningly playful as he offers the spoon to you "Now, I believe it’s customary for royalty to accept help gracefully."

Heat rises to your cheeks, but your stomach growls in agreement, much to his amusement. He raises an eyebrow, clearly delighting in your hesitation "See? Your stomach’s on board. Now, let’s get you to eat."

Reluctantly, you lean forward, taking the spoonful he offers, trying to ignore how closely he’s watching you. You know it, even if you don't see his eyes, you could feel them on you. The warmth of the soup is comforting, but his actions - soft yet mischievous - truly catches you off guard. He scoops up another spoonful, waiting patiently. You feel the gaze of everyone in the room on you. Satoru seems to ignore it.

"This is ridiculous." you mumble, cheeks flushed.

"Oh, hush. Have some table manners, will you?" he teases, holding the next spoonful right in front of your mouth "It’s rude to speak with your mouth full, you know. Now, aaa~"

★ --

Shoko steps into the room, clipboard in hand and a focused look on her face. She pauses mid-step, though, taking in the sight before her.

There you are, on the bed, head resting peacefully on Satoru’s shoulder, breaths slow and steady in sleep. Your healthy arm is entwined with his, fingers curled against his sleeve as if holding onto him even in your dreams. A soft, well-worn book rests in his lap, open to a half-read page, hinting that you two had been reading together until sleep claimed you.

Satoru glances up as Shoko enters, catching her eye and lifting a finger to his lips in a silent request to keep quiet. There’s a surprising gentleness in his expression, something soft and protective that Shoko rarely sees, especially in him. He gives her a slight smile, nodding subtly toward you as if to say - Let them rest a little longer.

Shoko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t make a sound. She’d always known Satoru had a soft spot for you, but seeing it here, so unguarded, speaks volumes. She makes a note on her clipboard, then gives a little nod and steps back, closing the door softly behind her.

Satoru watches her go, his hand shifting slightly to adjust the blanket over you and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He glances down at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he returns his attention to the book, careful not to disturb you, content to sit in this rare moment of peace.

He is so glad that you are here, with him.

tl: @kalopsia-flaneur, @dainslumi, @syneyam, @idiotgojo, @itachiiwrites

154 notes · View notes

ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 18 hours ago

Text

Warning: Angst/comfort/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words left his lips as soon as he sat down across from her. His voice was low, full of regret, but the moment they left him, he regretted them. He could already feel the weight of her anger pressing down on him.

“Sorry for what exactly, Chan?” Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dripped with venom. “For leaving me for dead?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart tightened painfully, and for a moment, he couldn’t find his voice. If only she knew...

“I didn’t leave you for dead... I promise.” His voice was a soft whisper, as if he were speaking to himself. He shut his eyes, willing away the pain that threatened to swallow him.

“Then what exactly is it?” She scoffed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her eyes flashed with an intensity that made his chest tighten even more. “What’s your excuse?”

“Can... can you let me explain?” His words came out barely above a whisper, but there was a pleading tone to them. He needed her to understand—needed to make her see that he never meant for things to turn out this way.

She tilted her head, studying him for a long, hard moment. “You guys were at the territory line, right? You could smell my scent... and yet you chose to ignore it. You could hear my screams through the bond, but you chose to ignore that too,” she said, each word sharper than the last. Her anger was building, and it felt like it was radiating off her, burning everything in its path.

She was right—and wrong—and it ate at him.

He felt the weight of her words, but there was so much more she didn’t know.

“Oh, Y/N… if you only knew…” Chan thought to himself, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate.

“That’s not what happened!” The words came out more forcefully than he intended, and his hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. “Just... let me explain. Please.”

He couldn’t stop the tears that began to fall now. The overwhelming guilt, the helplessness—it all came rushing back, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Go ahead, I’m listening,” Y/N said bitterly, her arms still crossed, her gaze as hard as stone. She leaned back, her eyes never leaving him. The challenge in her words was clear—prove it.

Chan took a shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of everything he had been holding in for so long. He wasn’t sure how to start, but the words felt too important to rush.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hyung, look at this! Changbin’s voice boasted through the bond, brimming with excitement. He was a few meters away from Chan and LeeKnow, clearly having found something unusual.

What is it? Chan asked, his paws deep in the soil as he worked on scent-marking the perimeter of their territory. The branches around him swayed gently, brushing against his fur.

I just found this… dead… deer? Changbin tilted his head, trying to get a better smell of the carcass, his nose twitching in confusion.

Deer? We never have deer here… Chan responded, perplexed. Wait—don’t touch it! His ears pricked up, a sense of urgency creeping into his tone.

Chan’s body tensed, and he moved swiftly, using his heightened senses to track Changbin’s scent. As he closed the distance, he could feel the hairs along his neck stand on end. When he finally arrived, the sight before him took him by surprise.

Why is there a deer here? Chan questioned, his voice low, almost growling, as he scanned the area. The animal’s body lay unnaturally far from their territory line, and it was disturbing—too far beyond the boundaries of where it should have been.

Do you think someone was here? Changbin asked, circling the lifeless creature, sniffing cautiously.

I can’t smell any other scents, Chan growled, his gut twisting with unease. Something didn’t feel right. His nose was sharp—too sharp—and he knew this land like the back of his paw. There had never been a deer this far into their territory, much less one lying dead.

Stay alert, Chan warned, his voice tightening as a sense of danger gnawed at him.

Changbin nuzzled his snout into Chan’s side in silent understanding before scanning the perimeter, his tail flicking nervously.

I don’t have a good feeling about this, Changbin growled quietly.

“I know. Neither do I,” Chan agreed, taking a few cautious steps away from the deer’s body. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.

It was then that a twig snapped nearby. Chan’s reflexes were lightning fast. He growled, stepping in front of Changbin, his body tensing as he prepared for whatever threat was coming.

It’s just me, hyung. Can’t you smell me? LeeKnow emerged from the bushes, laughing softly, clearly unaware of how close he had come to putting himself in danger.

LeeKnow! Don’t do that! Chan’s voice was a low, furious growl. Oh my God, you almost got yourself killed! He snapped, heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, LeeKnow quickly apologized, his voice sheepish, but his curiosity got the better of him. I thought you could hear me... I was pretty loud. What’s going on here? Wait—is that a deer? His eyes widened in disbelief.

Yeah, exactly, Chan muttered, still shaken. That’s why we’re on high alert. But I didn’t smell you. In fact… I don’t smell anything. His voice trailed off in confusion, his eyes narrowing as his senses felt off, almost muted. What was going on with his ability to smell?

LeeKnow’s expression darkened as he stepped closer, sniffing the air. Hyung… I don’t have a good feeling about this.

Okay, let’s just go back to the territory line, Chan replied, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness and unease. Where’s Y/N? I don’t feel good having her this far out. His thoughts were racing. She shouldn’t be anywhere near this strange scene.

She’s picking strawberries by the wild gardens… LeeKnow replied.

Okay, go get her and—

Before Chan could finish his sentence, a sweet, unfamiliar scent filled the air. It was intoxicating, heavy and thick, like something dangerous. Chan’s heart began to race in his chest, his head spinning. What is that?

I don’t feel well, Changbin groaned, rubbing his nose with his paw. The world around them seemed to tilt, and Chan’s body started to feel sluggish, his legs unsteady.

His senses began to dull, and the world around him seemed to blur.

I can’t feel my legs… LeeKnow’s voice was panicked. His body trembled as he tried to move, but his limbs felt frozen.

Shit… It’s a trap, Chan realized too late, his stomach dropping. The sweet scent—the drugging, overpowering smell—it wasn’t just a random scent. It was a weapon.

Changbin! LeeKnow! Can you hear me?! Chan’s voice cracked with fear, the adrenaline flooding his bloodstream as he tried to move. His paws were heavy, his vision swimming. He had heard about this—heard the older Ummas in the village speak in hushed voices about poison or sedative gases. But never had he expected it to happen to them.

Changbin?! LeeKnow?! he cried out, his voice desperate, but there was no response. The two of them were collapsing, just as he was.

Chan felt his body buckle beneath him, his strength draining away as the toxin infiltrated his bloodstream. The world around him slowed to a crawl. His vision blurred, his eyes fluttering. The last thing he saw was a figure—human, but somehow otherworldly—moving toward him.

The figure knelt beside him, their face twisted into a mocking smirk. “Oh, the mighty alpha… can’t even protect his luna,” they said, their voice dripping with disdain.

Luna. The word hit him like a punch to the gut.

His heart skipped a beat. Y/N. She was out there, alone, and he couldn’t do anything.

Chan’s vision faded completely as the darkness claimed him. His body went limp, unconscious, the last coherent thought in his mind that Y/N was in danger.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“And so when we woke up, we searched for you everywhere,” Chan’s voice cracked as he spoke, his chest tightening with the weight of the memories. “Through the forest, the waterfall, everywhere we could think of, but your scent was so faint. The rogues—” he stopped, his breath shaky. “The rogues didn’t have any scent. We searched all day, non-stop, until we had no choice but to come back. The betas and omegas were freaking out. We were exhausted and starving.”

Chan’s eyes welled up with tears, his voice breaking. “I never stopped looking for you, Y/N. You have to believe me. I never gave up. I thought about you every second, every day... and I couldn’t stop searching for you.”

Y/N’s eyes glowed golden, a flash of anger and hurt in her gaze. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, the pain she had carried all this time surfacing. She had thought they weren’t looking for her, that they had abandoned her. The rogues had filled her head with lies, convincing her that no one was coming for her. But now, hearing Chan’s words, everything she had believed was shattering.

“So… so they set you guys up?” Y/N sniffled, her voice trembling as she looked up at the alpha sitting across from her. Chan was slouched on the couch, his sweatpants and black vest a stark contrast to the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes,” Chan said softly, his voice low with suppressed anger. “They did. And they had been planning on taking you.” He clenched his fists, the memory of the betrayal still raw. “When I found them—” he stopped, the words heavy on his tongue.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “You... you killed them?” She gasped, her eyes widening with a mix of relief and awe. For a moment, she felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her chest.

“Yes.” Chan nodded grimly. “After you came back and... after seeing what they had done to you, I couldn’t let them live. I tracked them down with Mark and the hyungs. We found their den, and we killed them.” He exhaled sharply, the memory of the violence still fresh in his mind. “I couldn’t let them walk away after what they did to you... not after what they did to us.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, her shoulders trembling as the tears began to fall. The enormity of what Chan had done for her hit her like a ton of bricks. He had gone through so much, fought so hard—for her. She felt an overwhelming sense of guilt flood her heart. She had been so focused on her own pain, on her own suffering, that she hadn’t once thought about what he had gone through. What he had endured.

“Channie, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was a whisper, the words barely leaving her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with regret.

Chan’s gaze softened. His hands trembled as he reached out toward her, but he hesitated, unsure if she would want him to touch her. “Please... don’t apologize,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Never apologize. It’s not your fault.”

Y/N shook her head, her tears falling faster. “No, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was awful to you. I thought you didn’t care. I thought you gave up on finding me, and... I just... I was in so much pain. I still am. I’m angry at the world, Channie. But I hope you can forgive me for everything.” Her voice cracked with emotion, and she looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

“I don’t need you to forgive me,” Chan said softly, his voice full of warmth and understanding. “I understand, my love. I know you were in a state... a state no one should have to endure. I don’t blame you. Not at all. I should’ve been there for you, even when you pushed me away. I should’ve stayed by your side.” His voice trembled as he spoke, and his eyes darkened with the guilt of not being able to protect her. “I just... I can’t see you in pain anymore. I want to help you heal.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she reached her hand out toward him. Chan looked at her, surprised, but then slowly he took her hand in his. The moment their fingers touched, it was like electricity running through their veins. They were connected—alpha and omega—and this simple act of holding hands was enough to send a wave of relief through both of them.

“I don’t think you need to apologize either, Channie,” Y/N said, her voice more stable now, though still laced with sadness. “I think we both went through mentally and physically draining situations. I just... I can’t help but ask the Moon Goddess why. But I know she will have answers. I want to move forward. I want to put this behind us.” She paused, her chest tightening with emotion as she struggled to speak through her sobs. “I want to be a part of the pack again. I want to be normal.”

Chan pulled her into his arms, wrapping his strong arms around her as he held her close. He hoped she would let him, he hoped she would feel the comfort in his embrace. “I understand, my love. I ask the Moon Goddess every day why... but all I want is for you to heal. To feel better. I don’t want you to rush into anything, though. It gets overwhelming, but I’m right here. I promise.” He kissed her temple gently, letting the warmth of his affection seep into her.

Y/N buried her face in his chest, tears soaking into his shirt. “I’m sorry about losing the pup, Channie.” She choked on her sobs, her words trembling with grief. “I tried to protect her. I tried to shield her from it all, but they just... they kept going.”

Chan’s heart shattered hearing her cry like this. He gently cupped both sides of her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. His voice was firm and full of love. “Baby, I will never blame you for that. Do you hear me? Never. It was not your fault. I know it hurts, but I pray you’ll understand that.”

Y/N’s heart was breaking, but she nodded, pressing closer to him. “I just... I just know it’ll be heavy to get past. I don’t think I’ll love another pup the way I loved her. She was our first…” She trailed off, her voice lost in the depth of her sorrow.

Chan held her tighter, his heart aching for her. “Time will heal us, my love. Everything will get better. I promise. We’ll get through this together.”

Y/N wiped the tears from his face as she pulled back slightly, her scent calming, though still tinged with sadness. She gave him a small, tender smile. “Thank you... for being here. For loving me through all of this.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes filled with devotion and hope for the future. “I’ll always be here, Y/N. No matter what.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Chan finally felt like he could breathe again. After everything they’d been through, after the pain, the misunderstandings, and the distance—he had finally reconnected with his luna. They had talked it all out, and in that moment, something inside him shifted. The weight he’d carried for so long—worry, guilt, fear—began to lift. He no longer feared that she might hate him, or that the rift between them would be impossible to mend.

He could finally sleep tonight, he thought, with peace in his heart.

His hand moved gently to trace circles on her arm, the motion soothing both of them. He didn’t know how long they’d been lying there, but it felt like time had slowed, like nothing else existed in the world but the quiet warmth of her presence.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His heart pounded in his chest, the words carrying everything he hadn’t been able to say before.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes soft and full of tenderness, her expression mirroring his. “I love you too, my love.” Her voice was steady, but there was a catch in it—a vulnerability that made Chan’s chest tighten with affection.

And then, in that quiet, intimate space between them, Chan’s eyes welled up with tears.

All the anger, the frustration, the guilt, and the sadness that had consumed him for so long seemed to melt away in a single moment. With Y/N’s love, with her forgiveness, all the heavy emotions that had weighed down on him for so long evaporated.

She was back in his arms—officially—and nothing in the world could have felt more right.

Chan felt her warmth against him, her heartbeat steady and calm, and he realized with a deep breath that he would do whatever it took to help her grieve, to help her heal. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He wasn’t going to lose her again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: i think its time to end this mini series guysss >_<

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

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@0325tiny @pixie0627 @emmxxsworld

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realmsturkishdelight · 3 days ago

Text

summertime sadness.

pairings ; jj maybank x female reader

warnings ; angst , cursing , i don't know exact dates of his death so i made it up , mentions of using weed , dying.

[ 07/06/20 ]

"can you not press the camera to my face, please?" jj mumbled, a lazy smile on his face even though he was trying to be serious. you only chuckled, capturing his sweet, relaxed and handsome features in your retro camera.

"you're makin' me regret that i got you that, sweetheart." he added, but you only pushed his blonde hair away, smiling. "get up sleepyhead." you murmured.

"no." he turned his head away from the camera. you shaked your head at his antics, sitting on his back and recording his face from the other side. "jesus," he chuckled.

you laughed softly, laying on his back and turning the camera so that it can film both of you, your cheek pressed to jj's head. he looked like he was smashed under you, altough your weight bringed nothing but comfort to him.

"you're gonna be a pain in my ass with that thing, i get it." he joked.

[ 15/07/21 ]

"you guys see that stupid blonde over there? yeah, that's my man." you mumbled to camera with a grin, filming jj doing stupid stuff on his surfboard, laughing and being the annoying yet fun self he is.

your boyfriend had this effect where all of the pogues acted like they were annoyed by his antics, but couldn't live without him anyways. especially you, you were his favorite person, he annoyed you more than anyone, yet you wouldn't be able to live if he didn't do it one day.

"y/n!" he yelled, making the whole beach hear. you didn't mind, dating jj meant you slowly lose the feeling of being shy. you zoomed camera, watching his smiling face more close now, waving at you.

you waved back behind the camera. "this is for you!" he yelled, doing a backflip on the surfboard, getting in the water.

"yeah, that's mine." you whispered, giggling.

[ 01/08/21 ]

"not that again," he groaned softly, smiling as you pulled out the camera to record the sweet moment you both had.

it was a lazy august morning, where jj crashed over at your place because he couldn't stay away from you too long, and you both woke up together. he was all cuddled up on you, the fan in your room creating a small breeze so that you guys could at least get some air in the boring warmth.

"you got this cam for me to film us, j." you giggled, playing with his hair as you recorded both of you from up, showing your smile and his body layed on you.

"yeah but i didn't thought you'd do this often." he chuckled, looking at the camera and squinting his face in mock disgust. you pinched his cheek, smiling.

"well, you often make me wanna remember our moments forever." you murmured, and he melted.

[ 13/08/21 ]

"we're high as fuck," jj chuckled when you opened your camera to record you guys getting wasted in twinkie, just the two of you, in the quiet night.

"i can't even open my eyes properly," you laughed and he joined you, resting his head on your shoulder. "you managed to open the record, that's good." he said.

"hi guys," you murmured with a slight groggy voice like you just woke up, showing the joint in your hands that jj rolled skillfully. "another day, another weed, but this time it's kiara's stuff."

"she makes the best weed, i swear." jj mumbled, taking the joint from you after you got a drag, taking one himself. you giggled when he blowed to camera.

"you guys should get high with us." he joked.

"what if we show this to our kids?" you murmured, and it was just a thought you had with your high mind. yet, it warmed jj's heart.

"y'think our kids will be saints? all sober n' shit?" he said softly with a cheeky grin. "nah baby, that's not my gene."

[ 05/06/22 ]

it was a bonfire night at the chateau, everyone drinking, smoking and having fun. the star of the night was of course, your boyfriend jj.

you opened the camera and began recording him singing songs, with his whole heart, pointing you at the romantic lyrics.

"who even showed you taylor swift?" sarah laughed next to you, drinking her beer under john b's arm.

"you ask?" you giggled, and it made everyone laugh.

"what? i'll be a swiftie for my girl," jj grinned, blowing you, and the camera, a kiss.

[ 15/08/24 ]

"hello folks, this is jj recording to my amazing girlfriend's camera." jj grinned and waved, recording himself from a low angle, yet he still looked pretty.

he was in your room, in your bed while you worked in the shop today, probably helping kiara organize things. his elbows were on his knees, his signature hat on his head.

"there's been a lotta shit goin' on, so she couldn't record for a while." he explained. "we stayed in an island, john b and sarah lost their dads, i found out that my father wasn't my blood father, and i had kook origins." he raised his brows and laughed at the irony of it.

"and now, m'gonna search some gold with my biological dad, which is ironic, i guess." he grinned.

"but, i jus' wanted to record this for my lovely kids in the future, and for my sweet girl to watch if somethin' happens to me." he smiled, yet it was a weak one.

"baby," he murmured. "you live a life you don't deserve in sake of me, and m'sorry that lovin' me has brought you many problems, and we couldn't be a normal teenage couple." he scratched the bridge of his nose.

"n'that we fought with guys who had guns instead of goin' surfing and punching kooks." he chuckled. "but.. i wouldn't wanna do this with other people y'know? you're my favorite person in the world, and m'selfishly happy that we've been through a lot at least together."

"wow m'bein' too sentimental, and it would be really awkward for you to watch this if some dramatic shit didn't happened to me," he chuckled, clearing his throat.

he looked at the camera like he was looking at you, all puppy eyed, his baby blue's shining and his smile so wide and geniune. "m'about to head off to help groff, and i don't have much time to talk more about my undying feelings for you, but jus' know that you're the best thing happened to me. and even if we can't become a kook, i'll happily die as a pogue as long as i got you."

he kissed the camera, grinning. "love from papa j." he winked, closing the record.

[ 18.34 ]

your tears dropped to the screen, and your fingertips caressed his smiling face. you guys made it alive from morocco, expect the guy you loved more than anything.

it was like they took a part from you, his own fathers betrayal turning your life in a living hell in minutes. jj was the dead one, yet you didn't felt like you were living. in the end, which one was the hard one anyway? leaving, or staying?

you opened the camera for one last time, your puffy and red lips, red eyes from crying reflecting in the screen, showing how much of a mess you were.

it was the last time you'd use this, because you lost the one person that made you feel alive, and so happy that you wanted all of your memories to stay forever.

[ 20/08/24 ]

you sniffled, and your tears falled to screen, your voice being a weak whisper. "i love you jj."

༝༚༝༚

#im not okay #jj maybank #obx season 4 #obx #obx fanfiction #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine

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hearts4werka · 1 day ago

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NNN day 13 | You Can’t Save Me

“I thought I could do it without dragging you deeper. Shit, I was wrong.”

summary: Matt was a gang member and you knew the life as one or alongside one was a constant gamble for your life, never knowing what you’ll roll nor what consequences you will have to face. Today you didn’t know you would be facing one of them out of Matthew’s not informing you that they owed money to the violent rival gang, not thinking as an outcome I’ll have to face the barrier between life or death, will you somehow survive or face the consequences and give into the dark feeling of death?

warnings: ANGST, painful death, hospital setting, gang membership, heavy language, arguing, between life or death, swearing, mentions of B&E as well as fighting, sensitive topics that could trigger some readers & viewers advisory is supervised! English isn’t my first language so these can suck ass

authors note: lately I haven’t rlly been feeling the best and have got into some issues but I still found the courage to write something for yall for NNN and the intro post is gonna be out later tonight and I just gotta finish up some stuff and I’ll post it, luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one.

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The fluorescent lights above flickered inconsistently, a cruel reminder of the life I was currently losing the grasp over. The sterile scent of disinfection filled the air, mixing with the lingering smell of regret. I lay sprawled on the hospital bed, tubes snaking from my body and monitoring the slow and steady decline of my life. The beeping machines around me marked time I had left and even that was slowly slipping away from my grasp of control, each note a reminder of the moments fading away. My heart was still pounding, but I could feel its rhythm weakening.

Matt stood at the foot of the bed, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket with his shoulders hunched as if he were carrying the weight of the whole fucking world. His usually cocky demeanor was stripped bare from him leaving only a vulnerable kid who never actually grew up. Tears streamed down his face while cutting tracks through the sweat that adores his skin like a cruel battle map. “Look, I’m really fucking sorry, okay?” His voice cracked like a twig as he took a step closer, desperate to build a bridge between the gap in between us. “I never thought they’d come for you! I swear, I thought I could handle it!”

My mouth felt dry, each breath a labored struggle to grasp any control over my life. “Handle what, Matt?” I bite back, an involuntary bitterness flowing through the veins within my body. “You think you can just barge into my life, drag me into whatever shit you’re tangled in and then act surprised when it bites us in the ass You’re a goddamn idiot!” “I know!” he shouted, fists clenching and unclenching as if trying to beat the regret from his body. “I know, and I’d give anything to take it back. But I was too fucking proud, too stupid to admit we owed those bastards money! I didn’t think they’d get violent, you know? I thought they’d just scare us or shake us down but then they—”

“They busted through the door like a goddamn SWAT team!” I stated, choking on anger and pain I was feeling all at the same time. “You didn’t think they’d want blood? You dragged me into a fucking war, Matt, and now I’m stuck here.” “I didn’t mean for this to happen!” His voice broke like an old doll and he stepped closer to my slowly dying body. “I thought… I thought I could keep you safe. I thought—” His words faded into a heavy silence instead filled with the beeps of machines surrounding us and the muffled sounds of hospital life outside. I could see the regret washing over him in waves, each one crashing harder than the last. I wanted to hate him, to blame him for this whole mess but I knew that life in the gang was a constant gamble for your life and I had rolled the dice alongside him. Now regretting my choice more and more as my life slipped away from my fingertips.

“Why didn’t you call?” I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper as it couldn’t go any louder without hurting my throat. “You could’ve just called for help instead of trying to take it all on by yourself. We were supposed to be in this together.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, the weight of his decisions evident in the deep wrinkles now shadowing his forehead. “I was just trying to protect you,” he murmured under his breath, his words barely making it past the knot in his throat. “I thought I could do it without dragging you deeper. Shit, I was wrong.”

Tears continued to stream down his face as he moved closer to my bed, taking my hand in his shaky one. In that moment, his grip felt both comforting and suffocating. All I could think was how this was it, this was the end of my life and I was stuck with the boy who had pulled me irreversibly into the chaos now I’m loosing my life over. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, desperation dripping from his voice. “Not like this. Please don’t leave me.” The warmth of his palm felt like fire against my cool skin, dragging my attention back into the moment. “Don’t you dare fuck up your life over this, Matt. You think you can just take all the blame?” I gasped, the effort of speaking exhausting me out of every last bit of energy left inside of me. “If I go, you better make sure to get the hell out of here. Get away from this life but especially get away from this… all of it. Just… live.”

“No,” he cried, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to! It doesn’t make sense. You’re my—” “Your what? Your fucking partner? Your—” A fit of coughing washed over me, sharp pangs radiating through my chest as I struggled against the pain. “This isn’t a damn movie, Matt.” I took a ragged breath and stared hard into his eyes. “You get to be free, get to choose a better fucking path. Don’t waste my death living the same life.” Matt fell silent then, the resolve in his eyes cracking intensely. I could see the fight draining out of him, and I realized that we had both lost long ago. “Promise me,” I said, the words barely a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his tears blending with the chaos that filled the space between us. “I promise,” he said. “I will. I’ll do it for you.” As my breath slowed becoming less and less consistent, I focused on him and felt the weight of my own defeat. “Goodbye, Matt,” I gasped, my words slurring and fading. “Please, stay with me!” he pleaded, his voice breaking into pieces like shattered glass. But deep down, I knew the battle has finally came to an end. The darkness was creeping in and as I drifted away into unconsciousness, the last thing I heard was the sound of his broken heart echoing in the sterile silence of the hospital room.

@hearts4werka | do not copy, repost nor plagiarize any of my work on here or different platforms. You can be ‚inspired’ by my work but pls credit me and ask for permission first!

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 2 days ago

Text

I had this phrase of the song End of beginning: j"ust trust me, you'll be fine" and I wanted to write something based on it. I hope you like it❤

Just trust me, you'll be fine

The rain had started an hour ago, its soft patter against the windows now a constant hum, mixing with the quiet of the apartment. Normally, I would find it soothing, the rhythmic sound a reminder of cozy evenings spent together, but tonight, it only made the silence feel heavier. It felt as though the whole world was on pause, as if the rain, too, was waiting for something to break.

When James walked in, I felt it instantly—the weight of his presence had shifted. There was no excitement in his steps, no smile, no spark in his eyes. His usual energy was gone. Instead, he moved like someone carrying an invisible burden, his shoulders slumped slightly, his hands buried deep in his pockets as though to keep the rest of himself from escaping.

I watched him from the couch, noting the way he hesitated before meeting my eyes. Normally, he would greet me with that easy, crooked smile, but today, he just seemed lost. I knew that something was wrong, and I knew he wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

"Come here," I said softly, my voice quiet but firm. The invitation hung in the air, gentle but clear. I didn’t need him to speak; I just needed him to come closer.

He stood there for a moment, uncertain, his eyes flickering between me and the space around him. But then he nodded, crossing the room in a few slow strides. He lowered himself beside me, his movements stiff, and before I could even blink, he shifted, his head resting gently on my chest as we both lay back on the couch.

The silence stretched between us. His body was tense, his breaths shallow, and I could feel the weight of whatever was bothering him pressing down on both of us. His arms were tucked tightly by his side, like he was trying to hold himself together, trying to keep whatever he was feeling at bay.

I ran my fingers through his hair, letting the soft rhythm of my touch calm the both of us. I knew he needed time. But it didn’t take long for me to feel his body start to tremble, his chest heaving against mine, like he was fighting to keep it all inside.

I waited, breathing with him, letting the minutes pass. And then, without warning, he broke down.

A sharp, strangled gasp escaped him, followed by a soft, shaky sob that he couldn’t hide. His body jerked against mine, and the tears came without any warning, his shoulders shaking as his breath hitched.

I tightened my arms around him, pulling him closer, cradling him like I could shield him from whatever it was that was tearing him apart. His sobs were muffled against my chest, but the rawness of them hit me like a punch. This was more than just a bad day. This was something deeper, something he’d been carrying for far too long.

I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, my hand running gently over his back. "It's okay," I whispered softly, my voice steady, but thick with emotion. "You’re safe here. Just let it out."

He clung to me, his body shuddering with each tear that fell. I didn’t say anything else; I just let him cry. The pressure, the weight of everything he was holding, needed to be released, and all I could do was hold him until he felt it.

Eventually, the sobs started to slow, the tension in his body beginning to ease. He pulled back slightly, lifting his head from my chest to look at me. His eyes were red, his face streaked with tears, but I could see the exhaustion in his gaze.

I cupped his face gently, wiping away the tears still clinging to his skin. His lips trembled, and I could see the fear in his eyes—the fear of being vulnerable, of being weak. But there was something else, too. A deep ache, the kind that comes when you've been carrying something too heavy for too long and you’re just too tired to carry it alone anymore.

“James…” I whispered softly, my thumb brushing over his cheek. “What’s going on, my love?"

He hesitated for a moment, and I could feel the weight of his thoughts, like he wasn’t sure if he could say it out loud. But then his voice broke, low and raw.

“I’m just… so overwhelmed,” he confessed, his words barely a whisper. “With the band, with everything… I feel like I’m not enough. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. I can’t keep up with everyone’s expectations. And I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m failing, that I’m not good enough for you, for them…”

He swallowed hard, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, as if the weight of his thoughts was too much to put into words. "I don't know if I can do this anymore. Everything feels so... empty. Like no matter how much I give, it’s never enough."

I felt a sharp pang in my chest. James had always been the one everyone leaned on. The one who worked tirelessly, the one who held it all together. But I could see now, that in trying to hold up everyone else, he had forgotten to take care of himself.

I pulled him closer, my hands running soothingly through his hair as I pressed my cheek to the top of his head. “You don’t have to be perfect, James," I said softly. "You don’t have to be everything for everyone. You’re enough, just the way you are. You’re my everything.”

He buried his face in my chest again, his breathing still shaky, but his grip on me tight, like he was afraid to let go.

“You don’t have to carry it all alone," I continued, my voice calm but full of conviction. "I’m here. You’re not alone, okay? Not now, not ever. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He sniffled, his tears slowing down, but the fear still lingered in his eyes. “But what if I’m not good enough?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, like he was afraid I might hear him too clearly.

I cupped his face in my hands, guiding him gently so that our eyes met. Then, without thinking, I kissed him—soft, slow, a simple reassurance. My lips lingered on his for a moment, a soft promise that everything would be okay. When I pulled away, I rested my forehead against his, our breaths mingling.

“Just trust me,” I said softly, brushing my hand through his hair, letting the warmth of my touch offer him something to hold onto. “You’ll be fine, my love. You’re more than enough. I see you. All of you, and it’s more than I could ever ask for. I’m so proud of you, James.”

There was a long, quiet pause, the only sound between us the soft beat of our hearts, the rhythm of us simply being together. And then, after a moment, he lifted his head, his eyes softer now, and a small, hesitant smile appeared on his lips.

“How did I get so lucky?” he whispered, his voice full of quiet awe. “You’re the best thing I have. How did I get so lucky to have you?”

I smiled softly, my heart swelling at his words. “I’m the lucky one,” I whispered back, my fingers brushing the soft skin of his cheek. “We’re both lucky, because we have each other.”

His smile deepened, and for the first time that night, I saw a flicker of the James I knew—the one who was strong, who was capable, but also vulnerable and real. And in that moment, as the rain continued to fall outside, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield one shot #nausicaamusiclover20

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moonspirit · 2 days ago

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tired armin laying his head on annie's lap while she plays with his hair, small comfort!

HSDHDSGHSDGOIAGHAGIOAG T_______T

This brings suuuuuuch a good picture to mind anon. Armin's hair = my weakness. I would eat it for my meals if I could 🫠 I bet Annie feels the same way tbh (you can't disagree with me on this).

I can just imagine it. Armin's exhaustion. His limbs are dead weight, and his head feels like it's on fire, burnt out. His heartbeat is too fast, his breath short. Vision blurring, dangerous thoughts on the verge of spilling out, contained only by the force of exhaustion, ironically enough.

All he knows to do is to seek out Annie. Annie, just her and her alone.

Annie, Annie, Annie.

And he finds her quite blindly using the last stretch of energy left in his legs. Down he goes, on his knees, back curling to crawl into her lap. His hot forehead and cheek press into the soft fabric of her shorts. The cool skin of her knees for his palms to cup until his fingers stop shaking from the weight of his burdens. His eyes are burning, but here they close with a comforting darkness. Quick breaths slow. A racing heartbeat steadies into a low thrum. His clothes are all still on, digging uncomfortably into his body, but none of that matters. His head is on Annie's lap and he can smell the scent of her clothes and skin.

When fingertips small and light graze the ends of his hair, his nose stings with emotion. They card through the locks, slowly, gently, bit by bit, before descending deeper. Annie combs his hair this way and that, untangling and smoothing and other motions he doesn't know how to describe. Her nails are careful on his scalp, fingers purposeful when they brush the hair out of his eyes.

Just like that day when she pulled back his hood, her touch on him is so gentle.

Home feels weightless.

#askies #aruani #headcanon #attack on titan #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhart #snk #aot #aruannie #armin x annie

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mizusugii · 1 day ago

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late night hits ✩ (sam winchester x reader)

↳ you came back from a hunt with the winchesters but couldn't get to sleep, so you decided to smoke to ease your mind. sam joined you.

↳ cw: smoking w33d and sharing a bed! just kinda that tbh

You were just coming back from a particularly hard vampire hunt, and you were fucking exhausted. As you drudged up the stairs of the motel, shoulders barely able to hold up the straps of your bag, you groaned. Dean laughed, as if his ass wasn’t beat just as bad.

“That bad, y/n?”

You couldn’t do much else but grumble in response and keep trudging forward, hobbling down the upper deck until the three of you reached the room. Dean used the key, freshly picked up from a particularly pissy receptionist, and unlocked the door. You were so tired of sharing a dingy motel room with two boys, but at the moment you were too out of it to care. You wanted nothing more than to take a shower and go to bed, immediately dropping your things the second you got through the door and slumping down to kick off your boots.

“You know, that might work better if you actually untie the laces…” Sam quipped, undoing his own.

“Bite me.” You responded, managing to (painfully) shimmy out of the heavy shoes. Dean, as he tended to do when he was feeling especially diva-like, took a whole bed to himself. For once, you didn’t feel like fighting him on it- especially not when he immediately stripped down to his boxers and jumped into the bed.

You looked at Sam and shrugged. It wasn’t the first time you had shared a bed, and nothing weird ever came of it. You rifled through your bag for a bit before landing on your toiletries and PJs. You took both into the bathroom, getting ready for bed. As you stepped into the shower, a murky beige color with…questionable…stains adoring the tile, you felt the hot water hit your skin and wash away all the dirt and blood from the hunt. The more you hunted, the more you got used to the look of scars and scrapes on your own body. You ran body wash over your skin and washed your face, finally feeling the weight of the day lift off your body as you cleaned up. You stepped out and wrapped one of the paper-y feeling white towels around your body before sliding into your soft pjs. You brushed your teeth, looking at yourself in the mirror and noticing the bags under your eyes… you really needed to sleep.

You spat out the last of your toothpaste, rinsed your mouth out and put your brush back down on the counter. You lazily slapped the light off before stepping out, already hearing Deans loud snores from his bed. You looked to Sam, who had changed and had his laptop propped in his lap as he sat up against the headboard on your shared bed.

“She’s all yours.” You said, making your way to the bed. Sam’s eyes looked up from his research and looked at you, lingering for just a bit too long before he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped off.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking some of his own toiletries before switching out with you.

You had an unspoken agreement where you got to shower first (you HATED how gross you felt after hunts), and Sam would go after, insisting you could turn the lights off and go to bed without waiting up on him. Sometimes to be nice you’d wait for him to get out, but tonight you just wanted to lay down, so you quickly reached over to his side of the bed and turned the light out from the bedside table, letting the darkness and consistent drone of Deans snoring absorb your senses. You could hear the light sound of water hitting the tile from the bathroom from behind the door, and you tried to let that pull you to sleep. Ten minutes passed and you were still wide awake. Sam stepped out of the bathroom, newly cleaned and changed into his pjs. He assumed you were asleep and tried to crawl into bed as quietly and gently as he could, and a part of you felt grateful for his consideration despite your restlessness. You felt him shift on the other end, doing his best to give you as much distance as possible. The stiff, pressed sheets pulled up against your body as he got settled, and you tried your best to ignore the cold feeling creeping up your back from the blasting AC. Another ten minutes went by… then another…. and then another, and you started to feel like you were never going to get sleep. You didn’t even know it was possible to feel so exhausted but so incapable of getting rest.

When you couldn’t stand it anymore, you remembered something you left in your bag. As silently as you could, you slowly stood up and pulled yourself out of bed, hissing at the feeling of the cold air on your now bare skin. As you slowly made your way to your open bag, you dug around blindly until you felt a small, thin object. You grabbed your jacket and room key from near the door and, as gently as you could, pulled and turned the handle. You quickly glanced back to make sure the boys were sleeping, and then stepped outside, closing the door behind you. You walked forward a bit before hitting the railing of the motel balcony, overlooking the parking lot and shitty neon sign that was missing over half the letters. One of these days, you really gotta bitch Dean out for nesting you up in these 1-star prisons. You pulled your pen up to your lips, inhaling slowly and allowing the smoke to enter your lungs. You held it for a moment, then exhaled, watching as the smoke drifted lazily out of your open lips. You were in Texas, at least you were pretty sure, so the nighttime air felt warm against your skin. You could hear the sound of relentlessly loud cicadas chirping from nearby, and somewhere ahead you could hear traffic from an overpass. For a few minutes you stood there, taking small hits and trying to clear your mind from your racing thoughts. A part of you was still on edge after the day's activities.

You heard a soft click before the door behind you creaked open, and you glanced behind your shoulder. Sam stood outside the doorway in his sweatpants and gray sleep shirt, looking at you with a hazy expression.

“Y/N, what are you doing out here?”

You flipped around to face him, trying to conceal the pen behind your back. “Nothing.”

Sam laughed before cocking a brow. “Oh, I don't smell nothing.”

You gave him a puzzled look back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I’m not going to judge you… Just ‘cos I went to law school doesn’t mean you’re in trouble.” He smiled, stepping towards you a bit and away from the shut door. You felt your face go red, somehow embarrassed by the situation.

“Listen…” You pulled the pen from behind your back, now coaxed out of hiding. “I couldn’t sleep, and this helps sometimes.”

“Mhm…” Sam teased sarcastically. You just rolled your eyes before attempting to slide the device back into your pocket, but Sam held his hand out. “Like I said, you’re not in trouble. By all means…” He walked up beside you, leaning his waist against the railing and looking out into the parking lot, a slight smile on his face.

You shot him another skeptical look, but then turned to face the same way, taking another inhale. As you blew smoke out, Sam watched and studied the way it poured out of your mouth, some of it drifting his direction.

“You can’t tell Dean,” You said, looking up to the other. “He’ll never leave me alone about it.”

Sam smirked. “Can’t tell Dean what? Our little passenger princess is a stoner? I’m sure he’d be just as shocked as me.”

“Sam! I mean it…” You said, angrily fidgeting with the hem of your jacket.

“Hey, hey, I know…” He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not going to tell him.”

You nodded, and the two of you fell into silence. You both listened to the drone of the AC unit and the distant sounds of cars and bugs, the comfort of one another’s presence enough to allow the background noise to flood in for a bit. You took another hit and exhaled before hesitantly holding the pen up to him, looking into his curious eyes.

“For me?” He asked skeptically. You rolled your eyes before nodding. He seemed to think for a moment before taking the pen into his fingers and lifting it to his lips. He took a long inhale, allowing the vapor to fill his lungs before squeezing it back out.

“Now who’s the stoner?” You asked with a smirk.

“Not me… I haven’t had this stuff in years. You on the other hand…” He took another inhale. “You sneak out and smoke a lot? Hm?”

You shrugged as he took another hit. “Not a lot…”

He gave you a fraction of a look with a quirked brow, the kind of look that you had grown to understand meant, Really? He didn’t push you on it, though. You both sat in silence for quite a bit, passing the pen back and forth. The quiet would normally be uncomfortable, but you and Sam had grown close enough where conversation never felt forced. As he passed it back from his fifth hit, he looked into your eyes and laughed a bit.

“What’s so funny, hm?” You asked, taking one last hit before pocketing the device.

“You’re a lightweight.” He said, slightly cocky.

“Am not!” You retorted.

“Uh, are too.” He laughed. “Your pupils are dilated, and your face got all pink.”

“You’re so full of shit.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head, but you knew he was right. You knew exactly your own tells, and you could feel the high creeping up on you.

“Oh yeah?” He pulled out his phone and put it up to your face. He took a photo and clicked on it, laughing to himself. You peered over his screen to see your own face, caught off guard in a half smile with flushed cheeks and heavily lidded eyes. You were nearly taken back by how incredibly noticeable it was.

“Oh…. yeah.” You said sheepishly, watching as he got his kicks out of how out of it you were. You watched his fingers slide across the screen and you grabbed his bare wrist. “Do NOT send that to the group chat.”

“Awe, man.” He said, but pocketed his phone, respecting your wishes. “You’re no fun.”

“If Cas knew… actually, wait… If Cas knew that might be kinda funny. Can angels get high?”

Sam chuckled, tilting his head and looking down on you. “I get the feeling the lore won’t have an answer to that question.”

“Probably not… maybe one day we can try it. Just, uhm, don’t tell them right now. I feel like they’ll be, like, disappointed parents.” You said, pulling at the end of your jacket sleeves as you gently swayed. The more it kicked in, the more you wanted to lay down and try to sleep again. You could see it in his eyes, too, as they got heavier and his gaze directed at you became more hazy.

“I think you worry too much.” He smiled.

“Yeah, probably…” You said, staring down at your feet like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Your limbs felt so heavy.

“You tired now?” He asked, smiling to himself as you nearly fell asleep standing up, blinks growing slower and heavier.

“Maybe a little…”

“Let’s get you to bed.” He guided you back towards the door, hand gently hovering over the small of your back.

“I’m not a kid you know, I can get myself to bed.” You said, yet smiled as he held the door for you. Your voices fell into whispers once Dean fell into view, sprawled out on his own bed.

“I know you can.” He whispered. “But you have to admit, you were about 20 seconds away from falling asleep standing up.”

You rolled your eyes, but as you shrugged off your coat onto the floor and your back hit the sheets, you almost didn’t stay awake enough to respond.

“Nuh uh…” Was the best you could muster as he crawled in beside you. You both fell into silence for a few moments before you felt a chill run through your body. If it was cold before, it was frigid now. Every sense was heightened, and it felt like your limbs were about to go numb. The paper thin motel sheets didn’t do a thing to retain heat, and you kept your arms wrapped around yourself to try to warm up. You involuntarily started inching towards Sam, whose back was facing you as he laid on his side. You tried to ignore it, but when yet another chill jolted your body you couldn’t take it.

“Sam…?” You whispered so quietly, you barely registered your own voice.

“Mhm?” He mumbled, now turning to face you. You suddenly felt embarrassed, even with your judgment clouded by the high.

“‘M cold..” You mumbled back. He sleepily smiled and opened his arms up, scooting towards you and wrapping them around you. Maybe it was both of your clouded judgements, but neither of you felt uncomfortable in the embrace. His arms and broad shoulders pulled you in, and your face fell to his chest. You could smell the cheap pine soap he used, and the feeling of his warmth could have knocked you out in seconds. You felt his hands lightly brush through the back of your hair, and you wouldn’t admit it but you loved the feeling.

“Thanks…” You mumbled against his chest. You felt him hum back in response, just seconds away from falling asleep. You smiled contently and, finally feeling comfortable, you rested.

↳ a/n: hiii! i randomly got back into writing one shots again so forgive me if i'm rusty lol... but anyways if anyone sees this pleaseeee send me prompts and stuff! thank uuu :)

also i really wanted to use this gif cos it reminds me of the w33d coughs so i'm leaving it here as a parting gift lmao

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural #spn #supernatural one shot #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #pleaseijustwannagethighwiththisbeautifulman

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movingmusically · 1 day ago

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Caught Feeling - Chapter 14

Synopsis:

The morning after Hank’s confessions, Y/N senses a shift in their relationship, both strengthened and delicately altered by what he’s shared. They indulge in a day cocooned from the world, wrapped in quiet intimacy. As they rediscover each other’s touch, the bond between them feels stronger than ever, leaving Y/N basking in a newfound closeness she hadn’t anticipated.

Word count: 8,617

Masterlist

The morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting gentle, fragmented patterns on the walls. I lay there, tangled in sheets and silence, my mind still retracing the lines of Hank’s confessions from last night. Every word, every hesitant glance, each rough-edged moment had settled into me like pebbles dropped into a pond, creating ripples I couldn’t still. Each memory hovered just beneath the surface, stirring emotions I was only beginning to name.

It wasn’t like Hank to share things so openly—not like this. He’d built his own fortress over the years, thick walls crafted from unspoken hurts and old wounds, carefully fortified and guarded. But last night, he’d let me glimpse beyond them, allowing me to see the scarred pieces he usually kept locked away. Piece by piece, he’d handed me parts of himself that felt weathered and raw. I wanted to believe that sharing his past had lifted a weight from him, that he felt lighter now, freed somehow. But the way he’d held me after—the tightness, the quiet—made me wonder if he felt exposed rather than unburdened, as though he’d given away something he didn’t know if he could ever take back.

His secrets now lived in the space between us, shifting the fragile foundation we’d built into something both stronger and shakier all at once. I could feel the weight of them pressing into the silence, settling in the creases of the sheets, sinking into my own heart. It felt as if we’d crossed some invisible line, leaving the easy familiarity of before behind us. And yet, the warmth of his body next to mine, his steady breathing, the feel of his hand still wrapped around mine—it all grounded me, a quiet reminder that whatever this was, we were in it together.

Eventually, he stirred, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the morning light. For a moment, he looked at me, his gaze still carrying the shadows of last night, the memories still close enough to feel in the early morning quiet. There was a vulnerability there, a quiet hesitance that made me realise he was still trying to piece everything together, still finding his way back from the place he’d allowed himself to go.

“Didn’t think I’d sleep at all after…all that,” he murmured, a soft, uncertain smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I was wrong.”

I returned his smile, feeling a familiar warmth in my chest, something reassuring in the simple honesty of his words. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Sometimes…letting it out is what we need most, even if it doesn’t feel that way at first.”

He nodded, his gaze lowering for a moment as if considering, his fingers tightening slightly around mine before he looked up again, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity softened by a hint of doubt. “Feels strange, though. Like…I handed you all these pieces and don’t know how to put them back together.”

“You don’t have to, not alone,” I replied gently, my hand resting between us in the space that felt both close and infinite. “I’m here. For all of it.”

He gave me a look that held a thousand unspoken words—gratitude, fear, maybe a flicker of relief. For a few heartbeats, we just stayed like that, searching each other’s faces, and I could feel the distance between us shrinking, inch by inch. There was something in the way he looked at me—like he was seeing parts of me even I hadn’t fully discovered yet. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

His fingers brushed lightly against mine, his touch tentative but steadying, as though testing the reality of it all. In sleep, he’d looked almost boyish, the weight of his past hidden away. Now, in the light of day, he seemed both softer and stronger, as though the openness from last night had reshaped him in some unnameable way, something both fragile and enduring.

Without thinking, I let my hand move, reaching out to gently trace the curve of his eyebrow, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. His eyes softened, his breathing slowing as if settling into the quiet rhythm between us. He didn’t move, letting me take the lead. My fingers drifted down, following the line of his cheekbone and along his jaw, where rough stubble met the softness of his skin. The feeling was familiar but electric, each touch revealing something new, something I hadn’t noticed before, like he’d always been waiting for me to look closer.

A few stray strands of hair had fallen across his temple, softening his usually sharp features. I reached up, hesitating for just a second before tucking the hair back behind his ear, the gesture so natural it felt like breathing. It was something he’d done for me countless times, a quiet intimacy that now felt strangely reverent with the roles reversed.

He looked at me with an openness I wasn’t used to, something soft and vulnerable lingering in his eyes, and my heart clenched with a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite name. Slowly, tentatively, I leaned forward, letting my lips press gently against a faint freckle on his cheek, feeling him exhale softly as if even that small touch lifted something from him, letting him know he was seen, he was safe.

I kissed each tiny mark, tracing an invisible path across his skin, each kiss a silent promise, a quiet assurance that I was here, that he didn’t have to put himself back together alone. When I pulled back, his eyes held a warmth that felt like sunrise, steady and reassuring, a look that said he knew I meant every word I’d promised.

And as we lay there, tangled in each other and the soft light of the morning, I knew we had something real. Something worth holding onto.

Hank shifted slightly, his arm tightening around me as he settled into the quiet comfort between us. His voice was soft, still thick with sleep, as he murmured, “I don’t have to be back at work until Monday night. So…looks like we’ve got the whole weekend together.”

A warmth spread through me, gentle but thrilling, as I met his gaze. The thought of having him all to myself for two whole days felt both rare and perfect. I leaned into him, closing the small distance between us, my fingers brushing lightly over his as I let the quiet anticipation settle around us.

For a moment, neither of us moved, simply soaking in the closeness. His thumb stroked a soft, idle pattern on the back of my hand, a touch that felt like a silent promise. I brought our entwined hands up to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, my eyes meeting his with a soft smile.

“Bud’s probably wondering why breakfast is late,” I said softly. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, as though he couldn’t bear the thought of even a brief separation. His fingers tightened around mine, a gentle but insistent pull that made me want to sink back into him completely.

I smiled, lingering just a heartbeat longer, and then shook my head with a playful sigh. “I’ll only be a minute. Bud needs me too.” I slipped out of his arms, feeling his reluctant release as I slid out of bed. He groaned playfully, flopping back onto the pillow, but his eyes followed me, a warm, sleepy gaze that made me want to hurry through the task just to return.

I padded to the kitchen, where Bud waited with a patient stare, rubbing against my leg as I filled his bowl. “Alright, big guy,” I murmured, stroking his head before setting his food down. He purred contentedly, and I couldn’t help but smile at his simplicity—the straightforward needs of a cat, so different from the tangled emotions swirling between Hank and me.

The second I returned to the bedroom, I felt the pull of his presence, something soft and magnetic. Hank had shifted, lying on his side, arm outstretched in invitation. I climbed back into bed, and he wrapped himself around me, pulling me close until I fit perfectly against him, my back to his chest, his arm draped over mine.

We lay there, bodies pressed together, warm and secure. His fingers intertwined with mine, holding gently, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of my hand. I could feel his breath against my neck, each soft exhale centring me, drawing me deeper into the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“This,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear, “this is all I need.”

I smiled, closing my eyes as I settled into his embrace, letting myself be completely held. The weight of his arm across me, the warmth of his skin against mine—it felt like a kind of trust, a silent promise that didn’t need words. I nestled closer, feeling his steady heartbeat against my back, a rhythm that seemed to match mine, syncing us in a way that felt new and yet completely natural.

Neither of us spoke for a while, letting the silence carry us, content just to be close. The world outside felt distant, unimportant, as if this bed, this room, was the only place that mattered. His fingers brushed up and down my arm in soothing strokes, and I felt myself relaxing even more, sinking into the softness of the morning.

Eventually, he whispered, “I could stay like this forever.”

“Then don’t move,” I whispered back, a smile playing at my lips.

His hold tightened just a little, as though he wanted to anchor me here, to keep me in this moment with him. I felt his lips press a soft kiss to my shoulder, the touch featherlight but filled with so much warmth that it made my heart ache in the best way. In the stillness, there was a tenderness that made time feel irrelevant, and as we lay there, I knew this was a memory we’d both hold onto—a morning where the world felt far away, and we had nothing but time.

Time passed in a quiet blur, marked only by the steady rise and fall of our breathing, the faint sounds of the world just beginning to stir outside. Every now and then, his hand would shift, fingers grazing my arm or drawing small, aimless patterns along my skin, as though he wanted to memorise the feel of me, of this moment.

At one point, he shifted slightly, resting his chin gently atop my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever done this before,” he murmured, the vulnerability in his voice pulling at something deep within me.

“Done what?” I asked softly, letting my hand cover his where it lay draped over me.

“Just…lay here. Doing nothing. Letting it be enough,” he said, a quiet wonder in his voice, as though the simplicity of it both puzzled and amazed him.

A soft smile curved my lips, and I turned just enough to catch his gaze, my eyes reflecting everything I couldn’t quite put into words. “Then let it be enough, just this once.”

He held my gaze, his fingers lacing with mine as he drew me back against him, his arm wrapping around me with a gentle but steady hold. I felt his chest press warmly to my back, his breath brushing against my neck in a way that felt intimate and safe, as if he was anchoring me to this moment.

Slowly, I turned my head just enough to close the distance, my lips finding his in a kiss that was soft and steady. His hand tightened around mine, and I could feel the warmth of his smile against my mouth, a quiet reassurance that we both felt the same pull. His thumb brushed gently over my knuckles, the movement small but filled with so much tenderness it made my heart ache.

When we finally pulled back, he nestled his face into the curve of my shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the back of my neck. The simple gesture sent a shiver through me, anchoring me deeper in the closeness we shared, with no need for words or explanations.

He pulled me even closer, his arm tightening around my waist, our fingers still intertwined. His hand rested just over my heart, where he could feel each steady beat, matching his own. In his embrace, I felt completely safe, as if time had slowed to give us these rare, unhurried moments of peace.

The world outside became a distant hum, unimportant and quiet, as though it had taken a step back, giving us the space to just…be. In the warmth of his arms, I felt my eyes grow heavy, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breath, and I let myself drift back to sleep, content and weightless, held in a moment that felt endless.

As I stirred awake, the morning light was still soft, casting warm hues over the room. Hank’s arm was wrapped securely around me, his chest pressed against my back, a comforting weight that kept the outside world at bay. I lay there, sinking into the feel of him, the quiet intimacy settling in my bones.

A slight movement from him brought me back into awareness, his fingers tracing gentle circles on my stomach. I shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around me, his touch becoming more deliberate. His breath, warm against my neck, sent a shiver through me, and my lips parted in a soft exhale as he brushed a tender kiss along the curve of my shoulder.

I felt him then, his arousal pressing against me, solid and real, and instinctively, I pressed back into him. He responded with a low murmur, his hand sliding up my side, fingertips grazing my skin as though he was memorising every inch. He continued his slow, reverent kisses along my shoulder, up to the base of my neck, his mouth lingering, each press of his lips soft but loaded with intent.

My pulse quickened as his hand moved higher, grazing the side of my breast. His fingers brushed my skin with a gentleness that made me ache, his touch unhurried, as though he wanted to savour every moment. I leaned back into him, letting myself be held, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my back, our breaths syncing in a quiet rhythm.

Hank’s hand moved over my breast, his palm warm as he cupped me gently, his thumb ghosting slow circles over my nipple, which hardened instantly under his touch. I closed my eyes, absorbing the sensations as a soft moan escaped my lips, my hand finding his, lacing our fingers together as he continued his slow exploration.

He pressed another kiss to my shoulder, his mouth soft, lingering there as if he was pouring every unspoken feeling into that touch. His other hand drifted lower, slipping over my hip, his touch light but intentional as he guided my leg forward, opening me to him. My breath caught as I felt him adjust behind me, the unmistakable press of him against me, filling me with anticipation.

Slowly, I reached down, my fingers trailing along my body until they found his, and together, they guided him into place. I felt the warmth of him, the promise of his body ready to join mine, and a thrill ran through me as my fingers brushed both my own heat and his hardness at the same time. I lingered there, touching myself while feeling him, the dual sensation heightening the intimacy of the moment.

Hank moved slowly, his hands steadying my hips as he eased himself forward, filling me inch by inch, his breath a warm whisper against my neck. We moved together in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing, my body adjusting to his, meeting him with a softness that felt both tender and grounding. His fingers continued their slow circles on my skin, reassuring, each touch a silent promise.

My hand found his at my waist, and I entwined our fingers, holding on as he moved within me, his thrusts slow and deep, as though he wanted to savour every second of our connection. I leaned back, letting myself feel him fully, feel the reaffirming way he held me, the way he moved with me as if this was exactly where he belonged.

We stayed wrapped in that gentle, unhurried pace, our breaths and heartbeats becoming one, our bodies speaking all the words we didn’t need to say. I reached back, running my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until I felt his lips against my shoulder again, pressing kisses that felt reverent, anchoring.

With each slow, deep thrust, I felt myself surrendering more to the rhythm we’d built between us, each movement drawing me closer to him. His hand drifted to my hip, gripping me firmly, pulling me to him as he pressed himself deeper, filling me in a way that felt like he was leaving a part of himself with every motion.

A soft, needy sound escaped my lips, and in response, he tightened his hold on my hip, pulling me closer still, pressing his mouth to the curve of my neck. I could feel his breath, warm and heavy, before his lips found my skin, grazing and then pressing, a kiss that lingered and grew into something more. His mouth worked softly at first, but as his teeth grazed and his lips closed around my skin, I knew he was marking me, leaving something behind that felt like both a claim and a promise.

Ordinarily, I’d shy away from something so visible, but now, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, I wanted it—I wanted him to leave a trace of himself on me, something to carry with me beyond this moment. I tilted my head slightly, offering him more of my neck, feeling a thrill run through me as his mouth pressed harder, drawing a soft moan from me, his mark imprinted on my skin in a way that felt both possessive and tender.

My hand drifted down, fingers finding the heat between my legs, touching myself with a gentle, circling motion, heightening each sensation as his body moved in sync with mine. I felt the rush of warmth build under my fingertips, every touch sending ripples of pleasure through me. My hand slid further down, fingers brushing over where he entered me, feeling the firm, steady rhythm of him moving in and out, a connection that felt so profoundly intimate it made my breath hitch.

Hank’s grip on my hip tightened, his rhythm growing just a fraction deeper, each thrust deliberate and affirming, as though he wanted to imprint this moment on both of us. My breathing quickened, and I pressed my fingers harder against myself, the pleasure building into something urgent, something I couldn’t hold back.

I could feel him tense behind me, his breath heavy and uneven against my neck, his mouth still grazing the mark he’d left, his hand tightening on my hip as if to steady himself. The sounds he made, soft and barely restrained, were like a whisper of everything we felt but didn’t need to say. And as my body moved closer to release, he matched each movement, guiding me there with him, his every touch a promise that he was right there, holding me, carrying me through.

I felt the wave crest, my body clenching around him, my hand pressing harder as I spiralled into release, a soft cry escaping my lips as he held me, his grip on my hip steadying me, his mouth pressed to my neck, murmuring words I couldn’t quite catch but that only drew me deeper into the moment.

As I trembled in his arms, I felt him reach his own edge, his hold on me tightening as he let go, his body shuddering against mine, his hand still holding me close, as though he never wanted to let go. We stayed like that, entwined and connected, our breaths slowly finding a rhythm again as we came down, tangled together in the quiet aftermath of our shared release.

A gentle stillness settled around us as our breaths began to slow, the warmth of his body enveloping me like a blanket that felt both secure and freeing. His hand, still wrapped around my waist, softened its grip, fingers tracing soothing patterns over my skin as if to reassure me that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere. I nestled back into him, letting the remnants of our connection linger, my body still humming with the aftershocks of our closeness.

Hank pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, a silent thank you, a reminder that every moment we’d shared was as real for him as it was for me. His lips lingered, trailing up to the mark he’d left on my neck, and he touched it with his thumb, a small, almost reverent gesture that sent a shiver through me despite the calmness between us.

I smiled, reaching up to cover his hand with mine, our fingers interlocking. “Guess I’ll be wearing a scarf for the next few days,” I murmured with a soft laugh, the warmth of his touch still fresh against my skin.

He chuckled, his breath a warm whisper against my ear. “Good. That way, you’ll have a reminder… of this,” he replied, his voice quiet but full of meaning. “Of us.”

The weight of his words settled over me, comforting and exhilarating all at once. I squeezed his hand, letting the silence speak for us, because words felt unnecessary, almost too small for the magnitude of what I was feeling.

We lay there like that for a while, our bodies entangled, our hearts still beating in sync. The world outside was still distant, and there was a peacefulness in the quiet rhythm of our breathing, as though time itself had slowed, allowing us to savour this fragile, beautiful moment.

Eventually, Hank’s fingers began a lazy, comforting stroke along my arm, tracing an invisible line up and down, each touch calming and centring. He rested his chin gently on my shoulder, his presence a steady warmth that felt like home.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked softly, his voice warm, carrying a hint of curiosity but mostly a willingness to simply be wherever I wanted to be.

I tilted my head back to catch his gaze, smiling. “I kind of just want to stay right here…with you.”

He smiled, his eyes softening, and he pressed a tender kiss to my temple. “That sounds perfect to me.”

We stayed wrapped up in each other for a while longer, drifting in and out of quiet conversation, his arm draped over me, fingers tracing small circles along my back. At one point, I shifted to face him, nestling into the curve of his shoulder, my hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my fingertips. The morning felt soft, untouched by any need to move or be anywhere but here.

A sudden pounce on the bed signalled Bud’s arrival. He nestled himself right between us, his small body curling into the gap as though he, too, wanted to be part of our little world. I laughed, reaching out to scratch behind his ears, and Hank’s fingers brushed over mine as he joined in, both of us petting Bud until his purring filled the room, a soft, steady hum that seemed to lull us all back into a comfortable quiet.

Eventually, a thirst for water made it impossible to stay cocooned in bed any longer. With a soft sigh, I slid out from under the blankets, grabbing his T-shirt from the floor and slipping it on, the fabric hanging loose around me, warm from the feel of him. Hank stretched, rolling onto his back, his gaze following me with a lazy warmth.

“Come on,” I murmured, smiling over my shoulder as I padded to the kitchen.

He pulled on his boxers and followed me, tousled and unhurried, his hand grazing my waist as we reached the kitchen. I filled two glasses with cold water, passing one to him, both of us taking long sips, feeling the refreshing coolness spread through us after the warmth of bed.

“Stay here. I’ll make us something,” I murmured, flashing him a soft smile as I reached for the ingredients.

He settled into one of the kitchen chairs, looking completely at ease, his gaze following me with an unguarded affection that sent a warm flush through me. Moving around the kitchen in his T-shirt, I felt a strange comfort and intimacy, as if the shirt itself were an extension of him, wrapping me in his presence.

I grabbed the waffle iron and the ingredients, quickly mixing up the batter. His eyes stayed on me as I worked, the shirt skimming my thighs. I poured the batter, watching the steam rise as the waffles cooked, filling the kitchen with a cosy warmth and the familiar scent of maple syrup.

A few minutes later, I plated the waffles, drizzling them with warm maple syrup, and handed him a plate. His eyes lit up, and he wasted no time digging in, a soft groan of appreciation escaping as he took his first bite.

“These are… amazing,” he said between bites, looking up at me with a grin that made my heart flutter. “You’re holding out on some serious waffle skills.”

I laughed, taking a seat across from him with my own plate. “Just something I picked up along the way.”

We ate in companionable silence, each bite filling and warm, the simple act of sharing a meal keeping us rooted in the moment. I sipped my orange juice, watching him polish off his waffles and then down his water, a content expression settling over his features. He looked satisfied, relaxed in a way I didn’t often see, his gaze drifting out the window where the Hudson stretched in the distance, the city calm beneath the late morning light.

Leaning back in my chair, I propped my feet up on the table’s edge, letting the moment linger. His shirt had slipped a little higher on my thigh, and I noticed his eyes catch on the bare skin exposed there, a flicker of heat in his gaze as he realised I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. A quiet thrill moved through me, the awareness between us simmering just beneath the surface.

I raised an eyebrow, a small, teasing smile playing on my lips. “See something you like?”

His eyes met mine, that warmth deepening. “More than a few things,” he replied, his voice a touch rough, the hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. He reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine, a simple touch that felt both grounding and electric.

Without breaking eye contact, he moved his hand lower, fingers gently curling around my ankle. He held it with a gentleness that belied the intensity in his gaze, his thumb brushing soft circles against my skin. Slowly, he lifted my foot, pressing a soft kiss to my ankle, his lips warm against the delicate skin. I shivered, feeling the warmth spread up my leg, the thrill of anticipation building as he took his time, each kiss a deliberate, gentle exploration.

He didn’t rush, his mouth tracing a slow, teasing path up my calf, his eyes lifting every so often to catch my gaze, a spark of mischief and intent flickering there. As he reached my knee, he lowered my foot to the ground, but instead of rising, he slid off his chair, sinking down onto his knees in front of me. My breath hitched, heart beating a little faster as he settled himself between my legs, his hands gliding up my thighs with a quiet reverence.

His lips brushed against the inside of my knee, featherlight, lingering there as if he was savouring the feel of my skin under his mouth. I leaned back, feeling my pulse quicken, my body responding to each touch, every careful kiss. Slowly, he worked his way up my thigh, his mouth tracing a path that was both tender and teasing, each touch building the anticipation, stoking the quiet, simmering heat between us.

As he reached the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his hands tightened their hold, anchoring me, keeping me steady as his mouth moved closer to the ache that had been building with every kiss, every glance. His gaze lifted once more, and the intensity there made my breath catch, a wordless promise that sent a thrill through me.

With a firm yet gentle pull, he drew me forward until I was perched at the very edge of the chair, his hands drifting over my knees, coaxing my legs wider as he settled even closer. His lips continued their path, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin near the apex of my thigh, the heat of his breath making my head spin. My fingers gripped the edge of the chair, anticipation thrumming through my veins as I watched him, feeling completely vulnerable and yet utterly safe under his steady gaze.

When his mouth reached the soft skin just below my hip, he paused, his breath hot and steady against me. My pulse raced, each beat building the anticipation until it felt like every nerve was focused solely on him. I watched as he lifted my legs, draping them over his shoulders, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place. The feel of his hands, firm and reassuring, paired with the intense gaze he held me with, sent a shiver through me that only deepened the ache pooling low in my belly.

Then, without further hesitation, his mouth found me. His lips pressed against my most sensitive spot, warm and gentle at first, a slow, deliberate kiss that drew a breathless gasp from me. His tongue traced a soft, teasing path, each movement controlled, unhurried, exploring me with a reverence that made my skin tingle. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending alight under his careful attention.

A soft, satisfied hum escaped him, vibrating against me, and I felt a rush of warmth at the sound, knowing my reaction stirred something deep in him. He continued with a steady rhythm, his tongue circling, pressing, coaxing me closer with each pass. My fingers slipped into his hair, gripping as he deepened his touch, his mouth working against me in a way that was both skilled and achingly tender. The pressure built slowly, a delicious intensity that had me shifting in his hold, my breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

His hands tightened around my thighs, anchoring me as he adjusted slightly, pressing his mouth harder against me, his tongue and lips moving with an intensity that left me breathless. My back arched, a soft moan escaping as he found a perfect rhythm, the sensation so consuming it felt as though I could dissolve into it. My hands slid down, one gripping his shoulder, the other resting on his forearm, needing to hold onto something as he continued, each movement deliberate, thorough.

He responded with a low groan, his movements growing just a bit more focused, as though my sounds guided him. His breath, warm and uneven, washed over me with every shift, and I could feel him responding to every tremor, every gasp that escaped my lips.

His hands flexed on my thighs as he sensed my body tightening, my breathing growing shallow and quick. He pulled me even closer, the soft sounds of his pleasure blending with mine, a quiet harmony that only heightened the closeness between us. Each noise he made felt like an affirmation, a gentle promise that he was as affected as I was, completely in sync.

My back lifted off the chair as his tongue worked against me, swirling and pressing with unrelenting precision. Each deliberate movement drew me tighter, a desperate sound escaping as he pulled me closer to the edge, every flick and swirl so consuming it was as if he was unraveling me one touch at a time.

He seemed to sense the exact moment when the pleasure crested, his movements coaxing me over the edge with a precision that felt both gentle and powerful. I shuddered, my body arching as a wave of pleasure washed over me, his mouth still moving, guiding me through each tremor, grounding me in his hold. The world blurred, my senses overwhelmed, every touch, every kiss, every whisper of breath blending into a symphony of sensation.

When I opened my eyes, he was gazing up at me, a warm, satisfied smile on his face. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to my thigh before he lowered my legs from his shoulders, his hands still warm and reassuring on my hips. Rising slowly, he brought his face close to mine, his thumb brushing softly over my cheek as he looked at me with that familiar, tender intensity.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with a quiet reverence that made my heart flutter.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss that was soft and tender, a quiet echo of everything we’d shared. The taste of me lingered on his lips, a reminder of the closeness we’d just experienced, the quiet intimacy that bound us together in a way that felt deeper, more profound than words could capture.

Our kiss deepened, growing slower and softer, the kind of kiss that felt like sinking into something warm and familiar. But as our smiles began to creep in, it became harder to keep up the rhythm. My lips curled against his, and I could feel his mouth twitching with his own grin, the playfulness bubbling up between us. Then, just as we leaned in again, our teeth knocked together with a soft, awkward clink. We both froze, then burst out laughing, the sound filling the room as I pulled back, covering my mouth.

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning, his hand resting lightly on my waist. “Guess we’re not as smooth as we thought,” he murmured, his own laughter softening into a warm, amused smile.

I bit my lip, feeling a blush spread over my cheeks. “I just… I feel like a horny teenager,” I admitted, laughing softly.

He chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me back toward the bed. “If we’re going to feel like teenagers, we might as well do it somewhere comfortable.”

We settled back onto the bed, lying side by side, limbs entangled as we caught our breath. After a moment, I looked at him thoughtfully, imagining a teenage version of Hank. “You must’ve had girls lining up for you,” I said, a teasing smile pulling at my lips. “Tall, athletic, funny… you probably had half the school crushing on you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, I had my awkward phase too. Gangly, too many freckles, braces—the whole package.”

I tried to picture it but struggled to imagine him anything but effortlessly charming. “Still, I bet you outgrew it fast.”

He shrugged, a sheepish grin forming. “Maybe… but I still wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular.” His gaze softened, turning curious. “What about you? I bet you were the cute, mysterious girl everyone wanted to know more about.”

I shrugged. “More like invisible, honestly. I had friends, but… no one ever really saw me as more than that. I was quieter than the other girls who were… you know, bubbly, a little louder. It didn’t really stand out.”

Hank tilted his head, studying me. “I would’ve liked you. It’s always the quiet ones, you know.” His voice was gentle, sincere, and for a moment, I felt a soft warmth spread through me.

I smiled, reaching for his hand. “Alright, so tell me—when was your first kiss?”

He grinned, leaning back as he thought about it. “I was twelve. My first date, believe it or not—my mum actually dropped us off at the movies. I remember sharing popcorn, all nerves and sweaty palms, and then… about halfway through, I made my move. Leaned over and just… kissed her.”

I grinned, picturing him as an eager twelve-year-old, nervously going in for that first kiss. “Bold. I’m impressed.”

“And what about you?” he asked, turning the tables.

I sighed, already cringing at the memory. “I was fourteen, it was at this under-16s event at a local club. They had a DJ, dance floor, the whole vibe—just no alcohol, obviously. Anyway, I spotted a cute guy, and my friend, bless her, decided to play matchmaker. She ran over to tell him I thought he was cute. I was mortified.”

Hank’s laughter echoed around the room, and I joined in, the memory both embarrassing and oddly endearing in hindsight.

“So, what happened?” he pressed, clearly invested.

“Well, he just came over and planted one on me. No ‘hi,’ no conversation. Just… straight in, and it was… awful,” I said, wincing. “Way too much tongue, sooooo sloppy. I pushed him away and went back to my friends. Never found out his name, never saw him again.”

Hank laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, I think that wins for worst first kiss. You didn’t even get his name?”

“Nope.” I smiled, shrugging. “A true mystery man. Didn’t matter though—no one else even looked my way until college.”

He leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss along my temple. “Their loss,” he murmured, and the simplicity of his words left a warmth lingering between us, settling deeper than I expected.

We lay there, tangled up in each other, sharing old memories and quiet laughter, each story revealing a little more of who we’d once been and the path that led us here. And as the early afternoon light shifted softly across the room, I realised these moments—these quiet, unguarded glimpses—were exactly what I’d been hoping to find.

We stayed curled up in bed, limbs entwined, the warmth of his body melding with mine as the hours slipped by, unnoticed. We shared more stories, our voices soft in the quiet, the closeness weaving an unspoken connection between us that felt both thrilling and achingly real. Hank’s fingers moved gently along my arm as he listened, his gaze attentive, as though every word mattered. And with each memory, every laugh, we sank deeper into a shared intimacy that felt as natural as breathing.

When words gave way to silence, our bodies took over, finding each other in gentle touches and lingering kisses. It was unhurried, a delicate dance that felt equal parts exploration and surrender, as if the only goal was to lose ourselves in the warmth and comfort we’d created together. His hands roamed my skin, fingertips mapping a path that made me shiver, and I found myself memorising the curve of his shoulders, the way his breathing shifted with each soft touch. There was something deeply grounding in the simplicity of it—no rush, no expectations, just the two of us discovering what it meant to truly let someone in.

By the time the sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting golden light across the bed, our stomachs reminded us of the real world outside our little cocoon. Hank’s hand slipped down to his phone, pulling up a menu. “Pizza?” he asked, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Or are you in the mood for something fancier?”

I smiled, nestling closer. “Pizza sounds perfect. Let’s keep it simple.”

He nodded, ordering without missing a beat, as though he knew exactly what toppings I’d choose. When he hung up, he turned back to me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders to pull me close. We lay like that, content in the warmth of each other’s presence, the quiet broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond the window.

When the pizza arrived, we sat cross-legged on the bed, laughing as we devoured each slice. It felt wonderfully normal, like we’d been doing this forever. Hank looked at me over the edge of his slice, a soft, almost hesitant smile on his face.

“So, tomorrow,” he began, tracing patterns in the pizza box with his finger, “I was thinking… we could go to the aquarium? Coney Island, maybe?”

My face lit up at the suggestion. “The aquarium? I haven’t been in years. I’d love that.”

His smile widened, a glimmer of excitement flashing in his eyes. “Good. I thought it might be fun to do something different… and I like the idea of us just… being together.”

I leaned over, brushing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Perfect. It sounds perfect.”

We lingered there, talking about everything and nothing, spinning plans for tomorrow while sharing quiet glances that said far more than our words.

The evening unfolded in a gentle rhythm, each small moment settling comfortably into the quiet intimacy we’d built together. After we’d shared the last of the pizza, Hank wandered into the kitchen to fetch Bud’s dinner, calling for him with a soft whistle. Bud trotted over, tail high and eyes bright with anticipation. He rubbed against Hank’s leg, giving a low purr as Hank scratched him behind the ears before setting down his bowl. We stood together, watching Bud eat with contented little snuffles, our hands brushing as we leaned against the counter.

There was something deeply satisfying in this simplicity, the way even the smallest routines felt like tiny acts of closeness. Clearing the plates, rinsing them together, and putting away the empty pizza box—all of it took on a new meaning, like we were building a little world just for us, even in these fleeting, everyday moments.

Once the kitchen was tidied, Hank stretched his arms over his head, giving me a sleepy smile as he reached for my hand. “How about a shower before bed?” he suggested, his voice low, carrying that familiar warmth. There was no rush, no urgency—just the simple, comforting idea of sharing the quiet before sleep.

I nodded, letting him lead me to the bathroom, his hand warm around mine. He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until the steam curled softly through the air, misting over the mirror and filling the space with a gentle warmth. We stepped in together, letting the water cascade over us, creating a private world where nothing else existed but the soft patter of droplets and the quiet presence of each other.

Hank’s hands moved slowly, almost reverently, as he lathered up the shampoo and began working it gently through my hair. His fingers massaged my scalp with a tenderness that felt both intimate and unassuming, each touch a quiet reminder of his care. I closed my eyes, sinking into the sensation, letting the water and his hands wash away the remnants of the day. He rinsed my hair with a slow, careful touch, his fingers threading through each strand, ensuring that every last bit of shampoo was gone.

When he finished, he turned me gently, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before I reached for the body wash, mirroring his careful, deliberate touch as I lathered his shoulders and chest, my hands moving over him with the same unspoken promise.

With each movement, each soft touch, it felt like we were sharing something beyond words, a connection that went deeper than the physical. As I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palms, I looked up to find him watching me, his gaze warm and open, his eyes reflecting the quiet understanding that filled the space between us.

When he took the body wash from me, I caught his eye, smiling softly, and he returned the look with a warmth that made my heart flutter. He started with my shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles, the gentle pressure relaxing every muscle. As he worked his way down my back, his fingers tracing along my spine, I felt the pleasant soreness between my thighs, a lingering reminder of the passion we’d shared earlier in the day.

His gaze fell to the faint hickey he’d left on my neck that morning, a soft blush blooming where his lips had been. He brushed a thumb over it, smiling to himself before his hands continued their path down my body, washing over my hips and stomach with a care that felt almost reverent.

As his hands moved lower, he paused, his touch growing more deliberate as he lathered the body wash over my thighs. When his fingers slipped between my legs, his touch was gentle, his fingers moving in slow, tender circles that sent a soft gasp tumbling from my lips. The delicate way he washed over me, his fingers brushing against my folds with careful, unhurried strokes, made me feel seen and cherished in a way that was almost overwhelming.

I opened my eyes to meet his gaze, and in that instant, something shifted between us, a quiet intensity building in the warmth of the water and the softness of his touch. He leaned in, capturing my mouth in a kiss that started soft but deepened quickly, his hands steadying me as I wrapped one leg around his waist, drawing him closer.

He pressed me back against the cool tiles, his body flush against mine, his length hard against my thigh, a promise of everything I already craved. His mouth moved from my lips to the hollow of my throat, lingering over the hickey he’d left earlier, his tongue tracing it slowly before he kissed his way down, each touch igniting a fresh wave of heat beneath my skin.

His hands moved to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through me as he took his time, his mouth following the path of his hands, his kisses trailing down until I was arching into him, breathless and aching. The contrast of his warm, wet mouth against my skin and the cool tile at my back made every sensation sharper, more vivid, as though he were marking every inch of me.

He lifted me slightly, his hands firm on my hips, and I felt him position himself, his cock pressing insistently against me. Slowly, he entered me, inch by inch, filling me with a deliberate slowness that left me gasping, my fingers clutching his shoulders as he pushed deeper. The stretch was intense, a delicious pressure that mingled with the soft ache from earlier, heightening every sensation until I could hardly breathe.

He moved within me with a slow, steady rhythm, his hands gripping my hips as he guided me, each thrust measured, each movement unhurried, as though he wanted to memorise the feel of me. His mouth found mine again, his kisses deep and consuming, the warmth of his tongue meeting mine in a way that mirrored the slow, intimate dance of our bodies.

I reached down, my hand slipping between us to touch my clit, each gentle stroke amplifying the pleasure coursing through me. He felt my touch, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he tightened his hold on me, his pace quickening slightly as I worked myself closer to the edge. His mouth moved back to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his hands pressed my hips firmly against him, our bodies locked in a rhythm that was both tender and fierce.

The pleasure built and built, coiling tight and hot until it finally shattered, my body clenching around him as a wave of release swept over me. I clung to him, lost in the sensation as he held me steady, his movements carrying me through every tremor, every pulse of pleasure. He followed moments later, his grip on my hips tightening as he buried himself deep, a shudder running through him as he let go, our bodies locked together in the warm cocoon of the water.

We stayed like that for a few moments, his forehead resting against mine as we caught our breath, the steady beat of his heart thrumming against my chest, grounding me in the closeness we’d created.

Gently, he set me down, still holding me close as he reached for the thick, fluffy towel nearby. He wrapped it around me with a tenderness that sent a gentle ache through my chest, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I reached up to towel off his hair, grinning as he leaned into my touch, his eyes filled with a playful warmth that mirrored my own.

We moved to the sink, brushing our teeth side by side, standing close enough that our arms brushed now and then. I caught his eye in the mirror, and we both smiled, sharing a small, almost childlike amusement at this shared, ordinary moment. It was strange, but standing there with toothpaste foam on our mouths and a sleepy contentment in our eyes felt as intimate as any kiss we’d shared.

I took my time drying my hair, enjoying the lingering warmth of his touch, the softness of the towel around me. When I finally emerged from the bathroom, I found Hank already stretched out on the bed, his breathing deep and even as he’d drifted off, one arm sprawled across the pillow beside him. Bud was curled up near his side, a small ball of fur nestled into the blankets, his tiny body rising and falling in time with Hank’s breaths. The sight filled me with a gentle warmth, a sense of contentment settling over me as I realised how natural this scene felt, like we’d been doing this forever.

I switched off the bathroom light, leaving a soft, dim glow in the room as I climbed into bed. Sliding under the covers, I nestled against Hank’s side, fitting myself into the familiar curve of his body. Even in his sleep, he instinctively shifted, wrapping his arm around me, his hand resting lightly against my back. I could feel the slow, steady beat of his heart under my cheek, a quiet, reassuring rhythm that seemed to sync perfectly with mine.

As I lay there, the events of the day drifted through my mind like scenes in a film—our laughter, the playful teasing, the stories we’d shared, and the warmth of his hand in mine. Each memory felt like a piece of something we were building together, something that felt both fragile and resilient, like the kind of trust that could weather anything.

I turned slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, my lips brushing against his warm skin. Bud stirred beside us, curling up a little closer, his purring a gentle hum that filled the quiet, lulling me further into the comfort of the moment. The weight of Hank’s arm over me, the warmth of his body against mine, the soft breaths that filled the room—it all felt like a promise, a silent vow that we were in this together, wherever it might lead.

With a final, sleepy smile, I let myself relax completely, letting the peace of the evening wash over me as I drifted off, cocooned in the warmth of Hank’s embrace and the contentment of a day spent in quiet closeness. And as I closed my eyes, feeling his heartbeat steady under my cheek, I realised that this—this quiet, unassuming closeness—was all I’d ever wanted.

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rafecamerons-national-anthem · 1 day ago

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𝒟𝐸𝒱𝐼𝐿'𝒮 𝒯𝐸𝑀𝒫𝒯𝑅𝐸𝒮𝒮-𝐹𝒜𝒯𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝑅𝐿𝐼𝐸 𝑀𝒜𝒴𝐻𝐸𝒲

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 In a quiet town, Father Charlie Mayhew is drawn to Y/N, a mysterious woman who embodies temptation. Despite his vows, he succumbs to her seduction in a passionate encounter.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

In the quiet town, whispers of a new, seductive presence had been echoing through the cobblestone streets. It was said that she was the epitome of temptation, a creature of unearthly beauty that could make even the most pious of men stumble in their faith. Her name was Y/N, and she had arrived like a storm, bringing with her a wave of lustful desires that no one could resist.

Father Charlie Mayhew, the town's beloved priest, had heard the rumors but had not yet laid eyes on this mysterious woman. His days were filled with the mundane tasks of the parish: hearing confessions, tending to the sick, and offering guidance to his devoted flock. Yet, at night, as he knelt before the cross in his dimly lit chamber, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his own desires, desires that he had sworn to bury beneath his vestments.

One fateful evening, as he walked through the town's cemetery, tending to the graves and offering prayers for the souls interred there, he heard the faint sound of laughter. It was a laugh that seemed to resonate with a dark allure, one that seemed to beckon him closer. Curiosity piqued, he followed the sound until it led him to the most unexpected of places: the very heart of the cemetery, where a woman, dressed in a crimson dress that clung to her curves like a lover's embrace, sat atop the highest mausoleum.

Y/N looked down at him with a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with a mischief that made Father Charlie's heart race. "You're a curious one," she purred, her voice a siren's call that seemed to echo through the silent night. "I've been waiting for someone like you to come along, someone who knows the true price of temptation."

Father Charlie, though he knew better, couldn't help but be drawn to her. She was everything that was forbidden, everything he had been taught to reject. Yet, as he approached, he found himself questioning his vows, his beliefs, and his very nature.

"Who are you?" he managed to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Y/N slid off the mausoleum, landing gracefully before him. She leaned in, her warm breath tickling his ear. "I'm your deepest, darkest desires, given form," she murmured. "And tonight, I'm going to show you the pleasures that await those who dare to indulge in them."

Father Charlie felt a shiver run down his spine as she spoke, and he knew that he was standing before the embodiment of sin. Yet, as she reached out to caress his cheek, his resolve began to crumble like the ancient stones that surrounded them.

"You don't have to be afraid," she said, her eyes filled with a fiery passion. "Give in to me, and I'll show you what it's like to truly live."

With those words, she leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that seemed to burn with the fire of a thousand suns. It was a kiss that promised untold pleasure and eternal damnation, and in that moment, Father Charlie knew he was lost. He had invited the devil herself into his heart, and he was ready to pay the price.

Her hands began to explore his body, pulling at the fabric of his priestly vestments. The weight of his collar felt heavier than ever before, a stark contrast to the lightness that her touch brought to him. He could feel the heat of her skin through the barriers that separated them, and he knew that she was not just any woman. Her touch was electric, leaving trails of desire in its wake as she traced her way down to his chest.

Her kiss grew more urgent, and soon she was guiding him backward, down the steps of the mausoleum and into the shadowy embrace of the cemetery. The cool grass felt like a balm against his fevered skin as they lay together, her body pressing against his, her legs entwining with his own.

Father Charlie's hands, which had once offered comfort and solace to the faithful, now roamed over her satin smooth skin, seeking out the curves and valleys that lay beneath. He could feel her respond to his touch, her breath hitching in her throat as he explored her. The scent of her arousal filled the air, a sweet and heady aroma that clouded his senses and made it impossible to think of anything but the passion that burned between them.

Y/N reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, her eyes never leaving his. He felt the fabric part, exposing his bare chest to the cool night air. Her hands, soft yet insistent, slid over his torso, her nails leaving faint trails of fire as they danced over his skin. His own hands found the zipper of her dress, and together, they shed their last layers of resistance.

Their bodies came together in a fiery union, their movements driven by a primal instinct that neither could control. The moon cast a soft glow over them, illuminating the sweat that glistened on their skin as they moved in a dance as old as time itself. The whispers of the wind through the headstones seemed to echo their cries of pleasure, as if the very earth itself was a silent witness to their transgressions.

Father Charlie had never felt such ecstasy, such all-consuming need. He had devoted his life to the worship of purity, but now, in the arms of the devil, he knew true rapture. He could feel his faith slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers, replaced by a desire that was more potent than any holy water could ever be.

Her eyes, once filled with mischief, now held a look of intense passion as she rode him, her hips moving in a rhythm that seemed to match the beating of his heart. He could feel the power of her, the seductive energy that had drawn him in from the start, wrapping around him like a lover's embrace.

"You're mine," she growled, her voice a dark whisper against his neck. "Say it."

"I'm yours," he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire.

Y/N threw her head back and laughed, a sound that was both erotic and terrifying. "Good boy," she murmured, her teeth grazing his earlobe. "Now, tell me how much you want me."

Father Charlie could feel the words forming on his lips before he even knew what he was saying. "I want you so badly, it hurts," he confessed, his hands tightening on her hips. "I need you, all of you."

Her response was a feral grin, and she leaned in, her breasts brushing against his chest as she whispered, "You're going to get everything you want, Father. And more."

With that, she increased her pace, her movements growing more urgent as she took him deeper within her. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he could feel himself losing control, the barriers between his faith and his desires crumbling away with every thrust.

The dirt and grass beneath them became a blur as they moved together, their bodies slick with sweat and need. He could feel her tightening around him, her nails digging into his skin as she approached her climax. "Say it again," she demanded, her voice a purr that seemed to resonate in his very soul. "Tell me how much you need this."

"I need you," he moaned, his voice breaking. "I need you so much."

Her response was a guttural growl, and she threw her head back, arching her back as her orgasm crashed over her. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, was almost too much for him to bear, and with a final, desperate push, he followed her over the edge.

As they lay there, panting and spent, the reality of what he had done began to seep in. He had given in to temptation, had taken the forbidden fruit that had been offered by the very essence of sin. Yet, as he looked into Y/N's eyes, all he could feel was a strange, twisted sense of peace.

"Forever and always." she murmured, her voice still thick with desire.

Father Charlie knew that she was right, that he had made a pact that could never be broken. But as the darkness closed in around him, he couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the end, or if it was just the beginning of a much longer, more decadent journey.

Their bodies still entangled, they lay in the cemetery, surrounded by the silent judgement of the dead. Yet, in this moment, neither cared about the consequences of their actions. They were lost in the throes of passion, two souls dancing on the edge of damnation, consumed by a lust that was as ancient as it was eternal.

Her eyes, once a sparkling green, now glowed a fiery red, a stark contrast to the pale moonlight. It was a sight that should have sent Father Charlie reeling with terror, but instead, it only served to fuel his desire. Those eyes, filled with a power that could corrupt the purest of hearts, bore into his very soul, and he felt himself falling even deeper under her spell.

Y/N leaned in, her breath hot against his cheek. "Look at me," she ordered, her voice a seductive command that he couldn't resist. He turned his head, and their gazes locked. The red in her eyes was mesmerizing, a pool of desire and darkness that threatened to consume him whole.

"You belong to me now." she whispered, her fingertips tracing the contours of his face.

Father Charlie could feel the gravity of her words, the weight of his decision pressing down upon him. He knew that he should have been repentant, that he should have been begging for forgiveness, but all he could do was nod in silent agreement. The devil had claimed him, and he had willingly offered himself up as a sacrifice.

Her smile grew wider, a wicked grin that showed off the sharp points of her teeth. "Good," she murmured. "Now, let's see how far you're willing to go."

Her hand slid down his chest and found his already hardening cock, her grip firm and confident. She began to stroke him, her movements deliberate and precise. Each touch was a brand, a mark of ownership that seared into his very being.

"I can give you everything you've ever wanted," she said, her voice a sweet temptation that was impossible to ignore. "All you have to do is ask."

He knew he should resist, that he should find the strength to push her away, but his body betrayed him. "More," he breathed, his hips rising to meet her hand. "Please, more."

Her laughter was like music, a symphony of sin that played in his ears and set his blood on fire. "As you wish," she said, her eyes flashing red as she leaned in for another kiss, one that promised an eternity of pleasure and pain.

Their lips met once more, and Father Charlie felt himself falling into an abyss of desire, one that had no bottom, no end. He was hers, and he knew that there was no turning back. He had made a deal with the devil, and he would revel in the delights of the damned for all eternity.

As their kiss deepened, she rolled him onto his back, her body straddling his once holy form. Her eyes never left his, the red glow never dimming as she began to move against him, her hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm.

He could feel the power of her, the seductive energy that had ensnared him from the moment he had first set eyes on her. It was like nothing he had ever encountered before, and he was utterly powerless to resist.

Her hands roamed over his chest, her nails leaving trails of fire as she touched him. Each caress was a brand, a mark of his submission, and he reveled in the pain and pleasure that she brought him.

With every movement, her eyes grew brighter, the red glow becoming more intense. It was as if she was feeding off his very soul, drawing power from his every moan and gasp. He didn't care. He wanted more, needed more, and he would give her anything she demanded.

Their bodies moved as one, their passion a dance that was both sacred and profane. The cemetery around them seemed to come alive with the energy of their union, the very earth trembling beneath them.

Father Charlie felt himself building to the brink once more, his body tightening with the promise of release. And as he climaxed, her eyes flashed a brilliant, blinding red, and he knew that he had truly given himself over to the devil.

Her eyes remained fixed on his, the crimson glow a constant reminder of the inferno that now burned within him. He could feel the flames of her gaze searing into his very core, branding him as her own.

Suddenly, from the depths of his shattered conviction, a flicker of defiance sparked. The image of the cross he had been carrying, now discarded in the dirt beside them, flashed through his mind. With a strength born of desperation, Father Charlie reached for the holy symbol, grasping it in a hand trembling with the weight of his decision.

Y/N, caught in the throes of passion, noticed his sudden movement but was too lost in the moment to realize the gravity of his action. With a swiftness that belied his clerical garb, he raised the cross high above his head and brought it crashing down upon her, the metal digging into her flesh with a sickening crunch.

The laughter that had been bubbling from her lips turned to a scream of agony, and the red glow in her eyes was replaced by shock and disbelief. The force of his blow had driven the cross into her heart, and the power of the sacred artifact pulsed through her, a blessed light that began to consume the darkness that was her very essence.

Her body convulsed, writhing in pain as the cross burned away the layers of seduction and deceit that had cloaked her true form. The alluring visage of temptation morphed into something far more terrifying, a creature of twisted flesh and gnashing teeth, her once-beautiful skin now a mottled mess of burning, bubbling corruption.

Father Charlie watched in horror as the creature that had once been his seductress writhed and screamed before him, her eyes now a solid, unblinking black. He knew that he had done what was necessary, that he had sent this demon back to the hell from whence she came.

Yet, even in the face of such unspeakable evil, his body continued to respond to her, his cock still hard and demanding. It was as if the very essence of sin had become a part of him, a part that he could never truly purge from his soul.

The demonic creature that had been Y/N let out a final, guttural howl as the last vestiges of her power were expunged by the holy relic. Her body began to disintegrate before his very eyes, the flesh sloughing away to reveal the charred bones beneath.

The priest felt a mix of relief and revulsion wash over him as the creature's grip on his soul was broken. Yet, even as the demon's essence dissipated into the night air, the taste of her remained on his lips, a bitter reminder of the price he had paid for his moment of weakness.

The cross, once a symbol of salvation, now felt heavy in his hand, stained by the blood of the creature he had killed. The reality of what he had done weighed on him, and he knew that he could never confess this sin to his congregation, never seek absolution for the darkness that now dwelled within his own heart.

He looked down at his ruined vestments, the fabric torn and soiled by the very essence of evil. He knew that he could never be the same man again, never stand before the altar with the same purity of spirit. Yet, in that moment of profound realization, he also understood that his battle was far from over.

The devil had sent its minion to corrupt him, and though he had emerged the victor in this skirmish, the war for his soul had just begun. The town once a bastion of faith, now held a secret that could shake its very foundations to the core.

Father Charlie Mayhew, the man who had killed the devil's temptress, was forever changed. The whispers of the town had become a scream of truth, a siren's song that would echo through his nightmares for the rest of his days.

But he was not broken. He was a soldier of God, and though the enemy had scored a victory, he had not claimed him entirely. With the cross still in hand, he made a silent vow to himself and to his maker: he would fight on, he would seek redemption, and he would never let the darkness consume him again.

The night was still and silent once more, the cemetery a tableau of shadows and stone. Yet, in the heart of the priest who had stared into the abyss and lived to tell the tale, a new fire burned, one that was fueled by the knowledge that he had faced a demon and won. Father Charlie knew that the devil had not disappeared; it had merely retreated, waiting for the next opportunity to claim what it believed was its rightful property.

He stood, his legs unsteady, and stumbled back to the church, the cross clutched tightly in his hand. The sacred ground felt cold and unyielding beneath his feet, as if even it knew of his transgression. As he approached the heavy oak doors, he could almost hear the whispers of his congregation, the voices of those who had entrusted him with their souls, calling out for guidance and salvation.

In the dim light of the confessional, he knelt before the crucifix, the weight of his sin a leaden burden upon his shoulders. Yet, as he began to pray, the words seemed hollow, the ritual a mockery of his own weakness. He knew that he could never confess what had occurred, not without risking the very faith that held his community together.

The following days were a blur of guilt and doubt. Father Charlie threw himself into his work, hoping that the comfort he provided to others would somehow salve the wound that festered within him. Yet, each night, as he lay in his lonely bed, the memory of Y/N's touch, the sound of her laughter, the taste of her kiss, haunted his dreams.

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