#sleeps with a picture of him under his pillow to remind him how much he hates him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedroscowgirl · 4 months ago

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Under the spotlight

hugh jackman x fem!reader

this is the last part of the series from my masterlist "a younger revelation"

warnings: smut! minors dni! p in v (wrap it up) , age gap (reader is in her 20s and hugh is 55), established relationship, creampie, public teasing, reader has hair, lmk if i forgot something!

wc: 7.9k

a/n: hi everyone thank you for waiting such a long time for this but i had a massive writers block for this series but i hope yall like it! and i also wanna thank everyone for the support and love that yall have given to this series <3 also my cat was sitting on my hands so i couldn't post this earlier

It’s one of those perfect mornings where time seems to stretch, slowing down to match the easy rhythm of your breathing. The bedroom is bathed in soft light, the pale autumn sun filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle golden hue over the room. Everything feels serene. The world outside is still, quiet. It’s just you and Hugh, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of a lazy Sunday.

You’re lying on your side, your face nestled into the pillow as you feel Hugh’s warm body pressed up against yours, his arm loosely draped around your waist. His slow, steady breathing sends a comforting warmth along your back, the soft rise and fall of his chest against you a grounding reminder that this—right here, right now—is real. It’s always the little things that get to you, the way his hand absentmindedly traces small circles on your hip, or the way his hair is still slightly mussed from sleep.

His phone is in his hand, the occasional soft click of the screen illuminating in the dim room. You glance over at him, curious but too comfortable to move much, letting the sheets envelop you both in a cocoon of comfort.

“Checking your fan messages already?” you tease, your voice still a little husky from sleep.

He smiles without looking up, that lazy, playful grin of his that always makes your stomach flip. “Something like that,” he murmurs, his deep voice still carrying the warmth of sleep.

You can feel him scrolling, his thumb moving over the screen in that familiar swipe, probably going through memes or replying to texts. But then you notice the distinct sound of the camera clicking. Your senses sharpen slightly, but you remain still, watching him through heavy eyelids.

“Hugh,” you say, a warning laced in your tone, but you don’t move.

“Hmm?” He turns his head towards you, trying—and failing—to look innocent, though that mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him.

Before you can ask, he’s already snapped a photo, quick and subtle. You barely register the motion until it’s done, and he’s grinning like a cat that’s just caught a bird.

“Did you just take a picture?” you ask, amused but also intrigued.

“Maybe,” he replies, smirking.

You roll over slightly to face him, your eyebrow arched, though you’re far too comfortable to pretend to be mad. “What are you planning?”

Instead of answering directly, he turns the phone screen towards you. It’s a photo of the two of you, or rather, a hint of you. The image is almost artful in its subtlety. The sheets are tangled, the lighting soft and warm, but it only shows a small part of your arm resting on the bed and a faint glimpse of Hugh’s face in the far corner, just enough of his tousled hair and stubble to be unmistakable. The focus is deliberately vague, making it impossible to tell who is with him unless you already knew.

“Are you really going to post that?” you ask, half laughing, half groaning at how much chaos this one image will stir up.

His grin widens as his thumb hovers over the “Post” button on Instagram. “Why not? Just a little tease.”

“A little tease?” you repeat, incredulous. “You know exactly what you’re doing. People are going to lose their minds.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he says with a chuckle, that deep, playful sound you can feel reverberate through his chest.

You watch as he writes out the caption, short and vague: “Sunday mornings be like... 😌 #justchilling”

It’s perfect, deliberately vague and enough to send the internet into a frenzy. No name, no tags, just an intimate glimpse into his life, and the fans will eat it up. You can already imagine the whirlwind of theories and speculation that will follow, fans dissecting every pixel, trying to figure out who he’s with, if this means he’s seeing someone, or if it’s just a clever trick to keep them guessing.

“You’re evil,” you say with a laugh, watching as he hits ‘post.’

The phone buzzes almost instantly with notifications, the comments flooding in before either of you can even react.

“See?” he says, pulling you closer to him, his voice laced with amusement. “They love it.”

You lean over, resting your head against his shoulder, unable to hide your own smile. The comments are exactly what you’d expected. Fans are already speculating—some convinced it’s just a casual, fun post, others absolutely certain this is proof Hugh is off the market. A few are even analyzing the details of the photo, trying to match up the bedspread to any previous photos he might’ve posted.

“Is Hugh teasing us or is this legit?!”

“Who’s the mystery person? 😍”

“This better be a joke, because I’m not ready for Hugh to be taken.”

“Okay, but does anyone else think this means something more?”

“Look at them go,” Hugh says, scrolling through the comments with a grin, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you snuggle back into him. “You really love to mess with people, don’t you?”

“Only a little,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His tone shifts slightly, more sincere now as he adds, “But it’s also nice having something just for us, you know? Something that only we understand.”

Your heart swells at that, knowing what he means. The photo is out there, shared with millions, but the truth behind it—this quiet, peaceful moment between the two of you—belongs solely to you. No matter how much they speculate, how many wild theories they come up with, only the two of you know what it’s really like, tangled up in each other’s warmth on a lazy Sunday morning.

Hugh chuckles again as another flood of notifications rolls in. “Should we tell them the truth?” he asks, though you know he’s not serious.

You shake your head, smiling against his chest. “Nah, let them wonder.”

And with that, you settle back into the sheets, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. The world may be buzzing with questions, but in here, in this moment, it’s just you and Hugh, perfectly content to keep your little secret just a while longer.

As you scroll through the flood of comments on Hugh’s Instagram post, a sense of pride swells in your chest. Each message filled with speculation, jealousy, and admiration only adds to the thrill. You’re the one lying beside him, tangled in his arms, enjoying these quiet mornings. You’re the one he reaches for when the world isn’t looking. It might be a little evil, but there’s a certain satisfaction in watching the world try to guess, knowing that it’s you who gets to be with him, hold him, laugh with him, and experience the parts of him no one else gets to see.

You toss your phone aside before you turn back to Hugh. He’s still lounging on his back, his arm propped behind his head, his phone forgotten beside him. He’s only wearing his underwear, the fabric resting low on his hips, and the sight makes your pulse quicken. His sculpted chest rises and falls with his slow breaths, and your gaze drifts over the contours of his muscles, the familiar curve of his collarbone, the light dusting of hair across his chest. It’s impossible to resist him, especially when he’s like this, completely relaxed, utterly unguarded, and all yours.

Without a word, you shift, straddling his waist, your thighs bracketing his hips as you settle yourself on top of him. Hugh raises an eyebrow, his expression teasing as his hands instinctively come to rest on your hips.

“Well, hi there,” he says, his voice deep and playful. “What are you up to?”

You just smile down at him, your fingers already tracing slow patterns across his chest. The feel of his skin, warm and smooth beneath your touch, sends a ripple of heat through your body. You let your hands roam, sliding over the hard planes of his pecs, down the ridges of his abs, before coming back up again. You’re deliberately slow, savoring the way his breath catches, how his muscles tense ever so slightly under your caress.

“Nothing,” you say, the innocence in your voice a stark contrast to the way your hands are moving over him. You lean down, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss, your fingers curling into his chest as his hands grip your waist a little tighter. His lips move against yours with an ease born from countless kisses, his stubble rough against your skin in a way that makes you want more, makes you crave the feeling of him against you.

Just as you pull back, your hips start to move, a subtle grind against him that makes a low groan escape his lips. The sound sends a shiver of pleasure through you, and you press down a little harder, feeling the way his body reacts to yours.

Hugh chuckles, though his voice is rougher now, laced with desire. “Hmm, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your sides, holding you in place but not stopping your movements, “don’t forget, we have to go to that award show tonight.”

You roll your eyes, not breaking your rhythm. “Yes, tonight,” you echo, your voice soft but edged with playful defiance. You lean down, brushing your lips against his ear, letting your breath fan over his skin. “Or… are you planning on fucking me all day?” you whisper, the words a teasing challenge as your hips roll again, pressing against him just right.

A sharp breath escapes him at your words, and his grip on you tightens. His fingers dig into your hips, his body reacting to the way you’re moving against him, to the teasing promise in your voice. His eyes meet yours, dark and full of heat as he smirks.

“Maybe yes,” he answers, his voice low and husky, full of that teasing edge that always drives you wild.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you down to him as his lips find yours again. This time the kiss is deeper, more urgent. There’s nothing gentle about it now, nothing slow. His mouth moves against yours with a need that matches the way your body is pressing against his, the way your hips are grinding down on him, making both of you groan into each other’s mouths.

You can feel the tension building between you, the heat of his skin against yours, the way his body is responding to your every movement. The award show is hours away, and for now, the world outside doesn’t matter. Right now, it’s just you and Hugh, the only sound in the room the soft rustle of sheets and the quiet moans you’re both trying to keep from getting too loud.

You can’t help but grin against his lips, feeling the delicious pull of tension in the air, the way his hands are roaming your body with an increasing urgency. "Maybe we could skip the show," you murmur, your voice a little breathless as you pull back just enough to look into his eyes.

Hugh raises an eyebrow, his smile full of heat as his hands slide down your sides again, resting firmly on your hips. "Tempting," he admits, his voice rough and teasing, “but you’ll look so damn good tonight, I want everyone to see.”

His words send a thrill through you, the promise in them just as enticing as the feeling of him beneath you. But you can’t resist teasing him just a little more. “Well, if we’re going to make it,” you whisper, your lips brushing his ear again, “we better get started on something now, don’t you think?”

A low growl escapes him, his hands tightening on your waist as he rolls you over, pinning you beneath him with a playful grin that makes your heart race. "Oh, I think we’ve got time,” he says, his voice full of that confident, teasing charm that only he can pull off. “Plenty of time.”

Hugh’s grin is slow and wicked, a knowing glint in his eyes as he hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, holding himself up effortlessly. His chest rises and falls in slow, measured breaths, but you can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body is coiled with desire. His face is close to yours, and you can’t help but be mesmerized by the way his eyes roam over your features, taking in every detail like it’s the first time he’s seeing you like this.

“Plenty of time,” he repeats, his voice dropping even lower, a rough edge to it that makes heat pool in your stomach.

His lips brush against yours in a teasing ghost of a kiss, and you arch your back, instinctively pressing yourself closer to him. But he doesn’t kiss you right away; instead, his mouth hovers over yours, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath but not close enough to close the gap. It’s deliberate, and the way he holds back only makes you want him more.

“Hugh…” you breathe, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingers as you try to pull him closer, but he doesn’t budge. His smile grows, enjoying the way you’re squirming beneath him.

“What’s the rush?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jaw, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that sends little sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kisses down your neck slowly, his mouth soft and warm, the contrast between his rough jaw and tender lips driving you wild. His hands, large and warm, skim down the sides of your body, tracing the curve of your waist, before coming to rest on your hips, holding you in place as his mouth continues to trail lower.

You can barely form a response, too focused on the way his touch ignites every nerve in your body. You arch into him, wanting more, needing more, but he keeps that slow, deliberate pace, savoring every inch of you.

“Hugh…” you say again, this time more pleading, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently.

He chuckles softly against your skin, his voice deep and thick with amusement. “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “We’ve got all day.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and the low heat between your thighs intensifies, the idea of spending hours tangled up with him sending a flush of anticipation through your body. You tilt your head back, giving him more access, and he takes it, his mouth trailing along the curve of your neck, down to your chest.

He finally moves lower, his lips skimming over your breasts, just barely grazing the sensitive skin there before he shifts, pressing his body down against yours. You can feel the hard length of him through the thin fabric of his boxers, and the sensation makes your hips instinctively buck up against him, seeking friction.

Hugh groans, low and deep in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he rocks against you once, slow but firm, sending a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back as the heat between you builds.

You’re lost in the feel of him, the way he’s teasing you with slow, deliberate movements, making you want more, driving you closer to the edge with every roll of his hips. You press up against him again, your body moving in sync with his, seeking more, desperate for the friction that will send you both over the edge.

Hugh’s breathing is heavy now, and his restraint is starting to slip. You can see it in the way his muscles tense, the way his control wavers as he presses harder against you, his movements becoming less measured and more urgent. His lips find yours again, this time with no hesitation. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he grinds against you, making you both groan into each other’s mouths.

The heat between you is electric, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the quiet moans you can’t hold back, and the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you. Every touch, every kiss, feels like it’s setting your skin on fire, the intensity of the moment wrapping around you both, pulling you in deeper.

As your hips move together, the friction building with each roll of your bodies, you can feel the tightness coiling in your core, the pressure mounting as you both get closer. Hugh pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he fights to keep control.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and full of awe, like he still can’t believe he has you here, like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. His words make your heart flutter, and you reach up, cupping his face in your hands, pulling him down into another kiss.

“Hugh…” you murmur against his lips, your voice breathless and desperate, “I need you.”

He groans, the sound deep and full of desire, and in one swift motion, he flips you both again, pulling you back on top of him, his hands guiding your hips as you go down on him. The shift in position only amplifies the friction, and you both moan as you start to move against him, your bodies perfectly in sync.

You’re lost in the moment, the world outside forgotten as you focus solely on him—on the way he feels beneath you, the way his hands grip your waist, urging you on. The award show, the fans, the comments it all fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Hugh’s hands slide up your thighs, gripping them firmly as he gazes up at you, his eyes dark with want. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

You lean down, capturing his lips in another searing kiss as you move your hips down harder against him, and you can feel the tight coil of pleasure in your core begin to unravel.

Hugh came first and you felt his thick hot cum inside you and finished soon after. You got off him and laid next to him panting. “Let’s get ready” Hugh said, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Damn already?” you asked and he laughed “next time you should go to the gym with me.” “no thanks, I’d rather work out like this” you replied and laid back down as Hugh got up to get ready.

As you slip into your stunning black gown, a mix of nerves and excitement stirs within you. The dress is a masterpiece: form-fitting with a low, open back that grazes the curve of your spine, the fabric smooth and sleek against your skin. Delicate gold accents line the edges of the dress, shimmering subtly as you move. The slit, daringly high, runs up the side of your thigh, revealing just enough skin to turn heads without being too provocative. It’s a statement dress, designed to be remembered.

As you stand in front of the mirror, the reality of the evening sinks in. Tonight, you’ll be walking beside Hugh, the world’s eyes watching every step you take, every gesture, every look exchanged between you two. And it isn’t just any event it’s the first time you’ll be seen in public as his girlfriend.

The age difference has always been something you and Hugh took in stride privately, but you know it will draw attention tonight. Thirty years younger than him, you can already picture the headlines, the gossip columns buzzing with whispers. You feel your heart rate quicken, the nerves tightening in your stomach as you imagine what people might say.

But then, you remember the way Hugh looks at you, like you’re the only person in the room, the only one who matters. That thought alone is enough to steady your breathing, even as you glance at the clock and realize it’s almost time to leave.

You decide, at the last minute, to skip wearing any underwear beneath the gown. It’s an impulsive decision, one spurred on by the teasing and intimacy you shared earlier. A secret only the two of you will know about as you face the cameras, the flashing lights, and the scrutiny. The thought of telling him right in the middle of the chaos makes your lips curl into a sly smile. You know how much it will drive him crazy, especially with so many eyes watching.

By the time you’re finished with your makeup and hair, sleek waves that cascade over your shoulders, highlighting the open back of your dress, you hear a knock at the door. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel that familiar thrill of anticipation.

Hugh stands at the doorway, looking effortlessly handsome in his tailored black tuxedo. The suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame, the crisp white shirt beneath highlighting the strong lines of his chest. His hair is slightly tousled, adding to his rugged charm, and the smoldering look in his eyes when he sees you makes your pulse race.

“Wow,” he murmurs, taking a step toward you, his gaze sweeping over you with obvious admiration. “You look… breathtaking.”

You blush, biting your lip as you take him in. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” you reply, your voice soft but playful.

Hugh steps closer, his hands gently resting on your waist as he pulls you into a slow kiss. His lips are warm, soft, lingering just long enough to make you wish you had more time before facing the world outside. But the car is waiting, and the event beckons.

As you break apart, he looks at you with a mix of pride and affection, sensing the nerves beneath your calm exterior. “You ready?” he asks, his tone gentle but encouraging.

You nod, though your heart pounds a little faster with each passing second. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The ride to the event is filled with quiet conversation and stolen glances, the two of you sitting close in the backseat of the car. Hugh’s hand rests on your thigh, a reassuring presence, his thumb tracing soft circles on your skin as you stare out the window, watching the city lights blur by.

As you get closer to the venue, you can already see the flash of cameras in the distance, hear the excited murmur of the crowd gathered around the red carpet. Your heart hammers in your chest, the enormity of the night fully hitting you as the car pulls up to the entrance.

This is it.

When the door opens, Hugh steps out first, offering you his hand as he helps you out of the car. The second your heels touch the pavement, the cameras go wild, the sound of flashing shutters and photographers shouting Hugh’s name filling the air. The energy is electric, overwhelming, and for a brief moment, the nerves spike.

Hugh’s arm slides around your waist, pulling you close as you walk toward the carpet together. His touch is grounding, and with him by your side, you feel a surge of confidence. But as you near the photographers, your heart races for an entirely different reason.

Now is the moment.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear above the chaos. “By the way, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

You feel Hugh tense, just slightly, his fingers tightening on your waist as your words register. His eyes widen for a split second, and he gives you a look, one filled with surprise, disbelief, and the unmistakable spark of desire. You can practically hear the breath he sucks in, though he’s quick to compose himself, his expression transforming into a smile for the cameras.

The photographers call out his name, but Hugh’s gaze is fixed on you, a smoldering heat in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. His smile, now, is different—darker, knowing.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low and rough, only for you to hear. The way he says it, though, makes your stomach flip with excitement.

You let out a soft laugh, your hand resting lightly on his chest as the two of you pause for photos. The cameras continue to flash, capturing every moment, the way his hand rests protectively on the small of your back, the way your bodies fit perfectly together. But only you can feel the tension building between you, the unspoken thrill of the secret you share.

“Now how am I supposed to focus tonight, knowing that?” Hugh whispers again, his lips barely moving as he smiles for the cameras. His voice is laced with frustration and amusement, but there’s no mistaking the heat behind his words.

You glance up at him, your own smile playful. “You’ll just have to manage,” you tease, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

The rest of the red carpet feels like a whirlwind. Hugh keeps you close, his arm never leaving your waist, guiding you through the chaos of photographers, reporters, and flashing lights. You can feel the eyes of the world on you, people whispering, wondering, speculating about who you are, about the age difference, about how you landed the heart of one of Hollywood’s biggest stars. But all of that melts away, because in these moments, it’s just you and Hugh. The world may be watching, but your secret, the way his hand grips your waist just a little tighter whenever you move, keeps your focus on him.

As you pose together for one final round of photos before heading into the venue, you lean in once more, your voice soft but filled with mischief. “Just think of tonight’s after-party.”

Hugh’s eyes darken, a low chuckle escaping him. “You’re impossible,” he whispers, but there’s no denying the glint of excitement in his eyes.

“Let’s get through this first,” he adds, his voice filled with both a promise and the hint of a challenge, “and then we’ll see what happens.”

As you both step into the venue, the chaos of the red carpet slowly fades behind you. The sound of the cameras, the shouts from fans, and the flashing lights are replaced by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses. The air inside the grand ballroom is cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment you just shared outside.

But even here, in the elegant, dimly lit atmosphere of the award show, you can feel the weight of the attention. People glance in your direction, some with curiosity, others with envy, and a few with knowing looks as they connect the dots. You keep your head high, leaning into Hugh's side as he guides you through the crowd with a quiet confidence, his hand still resting firmly on your waist.

The room is filled with some of Hollywood’s biggest names—actors, directors, producers, all dressed in their finest, mingling and laughing beneath the glittering chandeliers. The soft glow of the lights reflects off the gold accents of your dress, casting a warm shimmer over your skin. You’re hyperaware of everything—how closely Hugh’s body is pressed to yours, how his thumb occasionally rubs soothing circles on your lower back, as if reminding you that he’s right there, with you.

Despite the luxurious surroundings, your mind keeps drifting back to the moment on the red carpet—the way Hugh’s breath hitched when you told him your secret, the heat that flared between you in the middle of all that chaos. You feel a flush rise in your cheeks, your pulse quickening as you remember the dark look in his eyes, the promise that lingered in the air between you.

But now, the evening stretches before you, full of formalities, speeches, and socializing. Hugh stops to talk to a few colleagues, introducing you with pride in his voice, his arm never leaving you. You smile politely, exchanging pleasantries, though part of you is still buzzing from the thrill of what’s to come later.

At one point, as you make your way toward your table, Hugh leans in close, his lips brushing your ear in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, “you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything tonight.”

You bite your lip, your heart skipping a beat as you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Am I?” you reply innocently, though the teasing glint in your eyes betrays you.

Hugh chuckles softly, the sound deep and rich. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” His hand slides down your back, resting just above the curve of your hip, his touch firm and possessive. “But two can play at that game.”

Before you can respond, the lights dim, signaling that the show is about to begin. You’re led to your seats, a prime spot near the front, surrounded by other actors and filmmakers. The anticipation in the room builds as the host takes the stage, the crowd settling into their seats for the start of the ceremony.

You try to focus on the event, on the speeches and awards being presented, but every time Hugh’s fingers brush against your skin, your thoughts wander. The subtle, almost imperceptible way he keeps his hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb occasionally tracing light patterns, has your heart racing in ways that have nothing to do with the glamorous evening. You shift slightly in your seat, the smooth fabric of your dress sliding against your bare skin, a reminder of the secret only the two of you share.

Hugh’s attention is divided between the stage and you, and you can feel the tension building, the way his hand lingers just a moment too long, his grip tightening when he thinks no one is watching. He leans over every now and then, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers little comments about the show, but there’s always an underlying edge to his voice, a reminder that he’s still thinking about what you told him earlier.

As the ceremony continues, you feel your own excitement rising, fueled not just by the atmosphere but by the knowledge that, once the formalities are over, the two of you will be alone again. Every glance Hugh gives you, every soft touch, is a promise of what’s to come. And each time his eyes meet yours, you can see the fire smoldering there, barely contained.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the ceremony comes to a close. The applause rings out as the final award is presented, and the crowd begins to rise from their seats, conversations buzzing as people prepare to head to the after-parties or return home.

Hugh turns to you, his eyes dark with desire, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “How are you holding up?” he asks, his voice low and filled with meaning.

You meet his gaze, feeling the anticipation build between you. “Barely,” you whisper, your pulse quickening as you realize the moment you’ve been waiting for all night is finally here.

Hugh’s hand slides up your thigh, a slow, deliberate movement that has you sucking in a breath. His touch is warm, his fingers firm as they graze the sensitive skin just below the high slit of your dress. “Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. “Because I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

The weight of his words sends a shiver through you, your heart pounding in your chest as he pulls back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. The room around you seems to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as the two of you stand, moving toward the exit together.

The moment you’re alone in the car, away from the prying eyes of the cameras and the crowd, the atmosphere between you shifts. The tension that’s been simmering all night finally snaps, and Hugh wastes no time, pulling you into his arms with a hunger that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, hot and insistent, his hands roaming over your body in a way that makes your head spin.

You gasp against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as you return the kiss with equal fervor. The car ride is a blur of heated touches and stolen breaths, your bodies pressed together as if you can’t get close enough.

When the car finally pulls up to your hotel, Hugh doesn’t even wait for the driver to open the door before he’s leading you inside, his hand tight around yours as he pulls you through the lobby and up toward the elevator.

The second the elevator doors close behind you, Hugh’s hands are on you again, his lips trailing down your neck as his fingers trace the line of your dress, teasing the edge of the fabric. “You’re going to pay for that little stunt tonight,” he growls against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

You can only manage a breathless laugh as your body presses against his, your heart racing with anticipation for what’s to come. “I hope so.”

As the elevator doors open, you barely make it down the hall before Hugh has you pressed against the door of your suite.

The door clicks shut behind you, the sound barely registering over the rush of blood in your ears. Hugh’s hands are on you in an instant, his fingers gripping your waist as he spins you around and presses your back against the cool wall. The contrast between the cold surface and the heat radiating off his body sends a shiver down your spine, igniting every nerve ending.

His lips crash into yours, all urgency and hunger. The kiss is deeper this time, more intense, as if the restraint he’s shown throughout the night is finally breaking apart. You moan softly into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tuxedo. You tug impatiently at his jacket, and Hugh pulls back just long enough to shrug it off and toss it aside.

“I’ve been waiting all night to do this,” he growls, his voice low and rough, filled with a kind of need that makes your stomach tighten with anticipation. His hands move to your hips, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where the slit of your dress reveals the curve of your thigh. His touch is teasing, deliberate, making you ache for more.

You bite your lip, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the tension between you simmers to a boiling point. “Then stop waiting,” you whisper, your voice breathless, a challenge laced in your words.

Hugh’s eyes darken with desire, and in one swift motion, his hands are on the zipper of your dress, pulling it down with a smooth, deliberate motion. The fabric slides down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your heels, completely bare beneath the gown.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. The intensity of his stare sends a flush of heat through your body, and you can see the way his jaw clenches, how hard he’s trying to keep himself in check.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration and desire. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing lightly over your bare waist, trailing up toward your breast, his touch slow and reverent, as if he’s savoring every second.

The sensation of his hands on you, after hours of anticipation, is almost too much to bear. You arch into his touch, your skin tingling where his fingers graze, every nerve on fire. “Hugh…” you breathe out, your voice a soft plea.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and in that moment, any pretense of restraint vanishes. Hugh’s hands are suddenly everywhere, on your waist, sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed tightly together. His mouth moves to your neck, lips tracing a hot, searing path along your throat as his hands continue to roam over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever he touches.

You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, giving him more access. The feel of his lips, his hands, the sheer weight of his body against yours, is overwhelming in the best possible way. Every touch, every kiss, every breath makes your heart race faster, the heat between you building with every passing second.

Hugh’s mouth moves lower, his lips skimming over your collarbone before trailing down to your chest. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that makes you moan softly, your body arching into his touch. He groans against your skin, clearly as affected as you are, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he worships every inch of you.

But it isn’t enough, not for you, not after the teasing and the buildup. You need more.

Your hands move to the front of his pants, your fingers deftly unbuttoning them as you tug at the waistband. Hugh pulls back just enough to shrug out of his shirt, his muscles flexing as he does, and you can’t help but admire the sight of him, the sharp lines of his abs, the broad expanse of his chest, the way his body seems to glow under the soft lighting of the room.

But you don’t have time to dwell on the sight for long, because the second his pants are off, Hugh pulls you into his arms again, lifting you effortlessly as your legs wrap around his waist. The feel of his skin against yours, the warmth and strength of him surrounding you, sends a jolt of electricity through your body.

He carries you to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness despite the urgency burning between you. His body hovers over yours, his eyes locked on yours.

Hugh lowers himself onto you, his mouth claiming yours once again, and this time the kiss is slower, deeper, as if he’s savoring the feel of your lips against his. His hands roam over your body, caressing, exploring, while your own hands trail down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his body as he presses himself against you. Every movement, every touch is deliberate, driving you both closer to the edge with a slow, agonizing precision.

“Hugh, please,” you gasp, your body aching for more, the need building to an unbearable level.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looks down at you. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his voice rough and filled with desire, his breath hot against your skin.

You meet his gaze, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. “I want you,again”

That’s all it takes. Hugh’s restraint snaps, and he captures your lips in a searing kiss as he finally gives you what you’ve been aching for all night.

Hugh’s fingers slide between your thighs with a deliberate, teasing slowness, the pads of his fingers brushing lightly over your already soaked core. The anticipation that had built up all night is now electric, and you arch into his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he pushes one finger inside you, then another. He moves with expert precision, finding that sensitive spot deep inside you almost immediately, his fingers curling in a way that sends a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

“Oh, Hugh…” you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body reacts to the overwhelming sensations. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, steady circles while his fingers work you deeper, hitting that perfect spot that has you seeing stars. Each thrust of his hand is deliberate, measured, but relentless, building your pleasure in layers, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re so wet for me,” Hugh growls, his voice low and rough with desire as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “I’ve been thinking about this all night… watching you in that dress, knowing no one else knew what I was going to do to you.”

His words make your pulse quicken, the heat between your thighs intensifying with every thrust of his fingers. You can’t speak, can’t form a coherent thought as pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly. All you can do is cling to him, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as your body races toward its peak.

Hugh’s fingers press deeper, and he hits that spot again, harder this time. The sensation is overwhelming, and your body reacts instinctively, arching into his touch as a rush of pleasure explodes through you. You cry out, your hips bucking against his hand as you come, the intensity of it stealing the breath from your lungs. Your entire body trembles, your muscles tightening around his fingers as he rides you through the wave, his eyes locked on yours, dark and intense.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since the award show,” Hugh groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls his fingers from you, glistening with your release.

You’re still catching your breath, your body shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm, but his words send a new thrill through you. “Why didn’t you?” you ask, your voice breathless, teasing, as your hands slide down his chest, eager for more.

Hugh leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Next time, baby girl.”

“Promise?” you ask again, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes searching his, a playful challenge in your gaze.

His lips crash against yours in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a heat that reignites the fire between you. “Promise,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy with the promise of what’s to come.

Before you can respond, Hugh shifts, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock pressing against your entrance. You’re still sensitive, your body still humming from your first orgasm, but the feel of him against you sends a fresh wave of arousal surging through your veins. He teases you for a moment, rubbing himself along your slick folds, making you squirm beneath him, desperate for more.

“Hugh… please…” you whimper, your voice a desperate plea as your hips rise to meet him, seeking the release you already crave again.

Hugh groans softly, the sound deep and guttural, as he finally thrusts into you with one smooth, powerful stroke. You gasp, your body arching into his as he fills you completely, stretching you in a way that feels both overwhelming and perfect. He pauses for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips as he lets you adjust to the feel of him inside you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered desire. His hips pull back slowly, and then he thrusts into you again, harder this time, and you cry out, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Hugh sets a brutal pace, each thrust deep and forceful, driving into you with a precision that has you gasping for air. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rising to meet his with every powerful movement, your nails scraping down his back as you cling to him for dear life. The bed shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, and you find yourself gripping the headboard, steadying yourself so you don’t hit your head against the bedframe.

“Hugh… oh God…” you gasp, your voice ragged and breathless as he fucks you harder, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress with every thrust. The sounds of skin against skin, of your shared moans and gasps, fill the room, mingling with the raw heat of your bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, his pace unrelenting, driving you closer and closer to the edge once again. The pressure builds inside you, faster and more intense this time, and you know you won’t last long. Every thrust pushes you higher, every movement driving you deeper into the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

Hugh’s head dips down, his mouth finding the soft spot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he groans against you. “Come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice thick with lust as his hips slam into yours with unyielding force. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words are all it takes to send you spiralling over the edge. Your body tenses, your muscles tightening around him as a powerful orgasm crashes over you, your vision blurring as you cry out his name. Your body trembles beneath him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you completely.

Hugh groans loudly, his hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge, his body shuddering as he comes deep inside you. The sensation of him filling you sends another shiver down your spine, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, his body warm and heavy against yours.

For a long moment, the two of you lay there, your bodies still entwined, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. The room is quiet now, save for the sound of your heartbeats, still racing from the intensity of it all.

Hugh rolls onto his back, pulling you into his arms, and you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it slowly returns to normal. His fingers trail lightly up and down your arm, a soft, soothing touch that makes you feel safe, cherished.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice soft, filled with a mix of awe and affection.

You smile, your lips brushing lightly against his skin as you snuggle closer. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tease, your voice playful but warm.

Hugh chuckles softly, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze. “You’re everything.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell, and you can’t help but smile, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I could say the same about you.”

For the first time that night, the world feels perfectly still, as if nothing else exists outside this moment. It’s just you and Hugh, wrapped up in each other, the intensity of your connection stronger than ever. And as you lay there in his arms, you realize that no matter what happens outside this room, no matter what the world says, what the headlines write, you’ve found something real, something worth holding onto.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman @shellbilee @kurcoswife @ru-kru @corvusmorte @devilslittlehelper @theoraekenslover

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #wolverine smut #wolverine #marvel smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine and deadpool

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kleine-joost · 4 months ago

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Toro (Joost x Reader)

a/n: me posting fic 2 days in a row? who am i?

SYNOPSIS: Just a little fluff drabble that I thought of, enjoy xx

WC: 789

You sighed in pleasure in the afterglow.

The sheen of sweat on your hot skin was quickly cooling you down, gaining a shiver that Joost couldn’t help but notice–even in his hazy state. On wobbly legs, he stood up and walked to the closet of the hotel room. You watched him, not quite sure what he was doing and barely able to move from the fatigue in your muscles and bones. He returned quickly, with the complimentary white, terry-cloth bathrobe and gently helped you sit up before placing it over your shoulders. It was a wordless exchange, you weren’t even sure if you could speak due to your hoarse throat from the neverending panting and groans that Joost had coaxed out of you that evening.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as he laid back next to you on the bed and delved into the plush duvet and cold, well-laundered cotton sheets.

It still took you a moment to catch your breath and calm yourself, Joost the same.

There was a certain…melancholy in the air of the room. This was your goodbye–at least for the next couple months. This was the worst part about your jobs, you were barely in the same place for longer than a week at most.

You’d been tentative to call what you and Joost had a relationship. You barely had the time together to do what couples normally did; the boring days, the movie marathons, grocery shopping together, it all was foreign to you.

Though that didn’t mean you didn’t adore him any less. On the occasions your schedules would allow you both to be in the same city, it was like a wildfire. The passion of your interactions could put even the trashiest romance writers to shame, because you always made those moments count when you could.

You finally gained a little control back in your muscles, while Joost had returned to his splayed-out position on the bed beside you. You scampered to the bathroom to pee, still just in the white bathrobe.

It was times like these that you could pretend all this time with Joost wasn’t just some kind of long term fling, that it was real. Because real couples existed like this together, right? To be honest, you didn’t know.

When you returned Joost was looking through the hotel’s room service menu that had sat on the nightstand next to him.

“Hungry?” He asked, turning his attention from the sturdy cardboard booklet to your form slipping back under the covers.

You hummed in response, slithering closer to him until you were firmly wedged against his side and you could rest your head on his shoulder.

“I really want some lasagna, I think,” he mused.

“Sounds good,” you muttered, fatigue still holding an effect on your brain function. “Also I want some fries.”

Joost sat up, not before gently rolling your head off his shoulder and onto his pillow. The soft white cotton felt cool against your cheek. You watched him pick up the phone and dial for room service, ordering the lasagna and fries–as well as a bottle of red wine, with a wink towards you.

In your darker moments, you wondered if he even liked you or if he was just using you for sex–which admittedly wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility with how your meetings usually went–but it was the little gestures that showed the romantic side of him that melted your heart and eased your worries. Like when he wouldn’t let go of your hand on the nights you’d walk back to wherever you were sleeping after a nice dinner at some trendy restaurant, the pictures he’d send you when he was travelling of things that reminded him of you and your little inside jokes, and what you loved most of all was his shy touches each time you’d meet up again, almost like he was nervous to be around you–no indication of just a fling.

You spent that night talking and laughing, and eating, drinking the much-too-sweet red wine, and you swore you could’ve lived in it forever. But you knew the morning would come, and you’d have to get on a plane to miles-away and you’d have to wait god knows how long until you and Joost would be reunited again.

You fell asleep in his arms with only a few hours before you’d have to be up again, and that night you dreamt of the life you both could have if only you had the time. You dreamt of warm dinner parties and vacations in the Mediterranean and supporting Joost through any troubles he might have. And your heart ached for the future that might never be.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost #joost fanfic

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spacebaby1 · 6 months ago

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Sleepyhead (Ran Haitani x Reader)

Everyone knows that Ran is the ultimate sleepyhead; he'd announce to take a nap and then wake up after seven hours. He doesn't take naps, naps take him! A thing that everyone teases him about and keep reminding him that he might not find a girlfriend that will deal with his "naps" until he met you, he's sweet, gorgeous girlfriend that loves him as much as she loves sleeping. The only time you weren't sleeping was when you were at school or eating; sometimes.

Ran had texted you to hang out at his house, but he asked you to make yourself at home before he comes back from the store since you already had a spare key. "I'm here," you announced to the empty house before walking in after taking your shoes off. You texted Ran that you're home, and he replied telling you he'll be there soon. Making your way to the living room, you sat on the couch, turning the TV on and watching a random show. Before you know it, you fell asleep on the couch. Ran came home with a bunch of snacks and announced his entering as he followed the sound of the TV. He stopped rambling once he saw you sleeping on the couch, snoring a softly. He chuckled before taking his phone out and taking a picture of you before carefully placing a pillow under your head so you won't have a sore neck once you wake up. He made his way to the kitchen and started to prepare a sandwich for you two. Half an hour later, Ran came back with the sandwiches and the drinks placing them on the table. Slowly, he placed his palm on your head, "Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up." You opened your eyes blinking a few more times before a smile appeared on your lips when you saw your boyfriend. Immediately, you woke up reaching your arms to hug him, which he immediately wrapped his arms around you. "Morning sweets. Now go get freshen up so we can enjoy the sandwiches."

Or that other time when you were coming back home late from school when someone grabbed you and threw you in a van. At first, you were terrified until you heard the men talking about how they gonna kidnap you in exchange for money from your boyfriend. You were sitting on the chair with your hands tied behind you as the men tried to contact your boyfriend. It was getting boring so you decided to close your eyes. "If you lay a hand on my girl, I will hunt you down like dogs. WHERE IS MY GIRL! GIVE HER THE PHONE." Ran yelled at the kidnappers who had the smug look on his face, but it dropped the moment he turned to look at you only to find you fast asleep snoring softly. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" the kidnapper asked the other man. The man shrugged, "Nothing! She did that herself." Ran'd blood boiled as he heard the conversation from the other side of the phone. He yelled at the kidnappers full-on yelled at them.

When you wake up, you can hear sounds of gunshots and slowly adjust your eyes to the darkened room with dim light. "Sweetheart, are you alright?" It was your boyfriends younger brother standing beside you untying your hands. You smiled at him, "Hey, Rinny!" Before you know it, Ran rushed to gather you in his arms, and you yawned, hugging him back and dropping your head on his shoulders, "Baby? Are you hurt? They hurt you?" He asked, clinching his teeth, ready to beat the men again and again. You shook your head, "No, baby, I fell asleep. I'm tired, can we go home?" You yawned again before Ran stood up with you in his arms and his brother followed behind, you were fast asleep the moment you got in the car; snoring softly on your boyfriends lap as he caressed your hair.

#ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x you #ran tokyo revengers #ran headcanons #tokyo revengers

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months ago

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Not a birthday boy

a/n obviously this is a little smth smth for our angry little fluff ball. Happy birthday!🤍✨

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

Noah wasn’t a fan of his birthday. A part of him never felt special enough to be celebrated like that. Then again the idea of all the attention being on him was nearly too crippling and it should sound stupid considering that he performed for thousands of people but it was different in his books. “So, no surprise no nothing, I don’t celebrate”, Noah had said on one of your first dates. And while at the time you agreed to respect his wishes, the closer your boyfriend’s birthday got the more restless you got.

“Tell me that you’re planning something for him”, you muttered about a month before to Matt while sitting alongside him during one of the rehearsals. “You know how he gets when shit like that is brought up in a conversation”, Matt shot you a look and you were quick enough to scowl at him, “We don’t have to book a plane to spell out happy birthday, but we can’t just pretend that it’s not his birthday either”, you grunted turning around in your chair. “You won’t drop this, huh?”, Matt smiled looking at you, “Not a chance”, you reassured him.

So you had kept it under wraps for the rest of October. On the evening of the 30th, you hadn’t brought anything up. You two had fallen asleep all cuddled up. But your sleep was scarce as you carefully sneaked out of bed at 4 am. Slowly pushing your pillow closer to Noah, so he would stay asleep. Not even 20 min later you saw a car pulling up into the driveway, the lights illuminating the dark living room.

“I don’t even remember driving here”, Jolly muttered as you opened the door, leaning in for a quick hug. “Folio is passed out in the back seat”, Nick shook his head. “It’s okay, let him get his beauty sleep for a couple more hours”, you chuckled, padding towards the living room. “So, what’s the plan?”, Matt nodded towards the boxes.

“The cake is almost done. I need you to blow up balloons”, you gestured to a pile of Halloween collared balloons, “we will glue these to the bottoms of the strings”, you handed Matt a folder of pictures you had printed out a while back. “Oh shit, this is from one of the first tours”, he chuckled looking through the different memories frozen in time. “Thought it might be fun to just see a glimpse through all the years”, you shrugged, “Remind him of how far he has come and how much he achieved”, you whispered biting your lip. Jolly instantly pulled you into a side hug, “Don’t start crying or I will join you”, he warned you, making you smile as you patted beneath your eyes. “I’m so glad he found you”, Nick muttered, squeezing your hand.

The rest was a sleepless but sweet blur as you all tried to stay as quiet as possible while arranging the surprise. The sun was already peaking through the blinds when you sneaked back into the bedroom. The moment the bed dipped, Noah’s eyes shot open. “Where have you been?”, he grunted, reaching out to you. “I went to the bathroom, go back to sleep”, you whispered, brushing your fingers up and down his arm. “For so long?”, he lifted his head slightly, glancing at the clock, “Are you not feeling well?”, “You dreamed it hun, go back to sleep”, you reassured him softly, laying down beside him. “Promise”, he sighed against your neck, his warmth seeping into your skin. “Promise”, you kissed the side of his face, feeling your own eyes growing heavy with the promise of at least a tag more sleep.

You woke up to the feeling of Noah slowly running his fingers through your hair. A smile instantly spread across your lips as you blinked awake. “Morning, gorgeous”, he mused, a smile that matched yours warming his face. “Morning, not a birthday boy”, you smirked, watching as Noah rolled his eyes, yet his face didn’t falter. “I’ll pretend, I did not hear you”, he shrugged. “Ah, yes, age is getting to your hearing”, you hummed. Noah’s fingers instantly reached out, tickling your sides, making you let out a screech. “I take kisses as payment for my bruised ego”, Noah stated and you instantly cupped his face, wanting to get away from tickling. It was soft and slow. As you poured every ounce of love you had for him. “Can I say it once?”, you asked pulling back, Noah’s eyes softened as he watched your hopeful gaze as he nodded. “Happy birthday, sweetheart”, you muttered, brushing your fingers through his hair, “I love you so much”, “I love you more”, pushing up, Noah pressed his lips against yours, “Breakfast?” You let yourself watch him for a moment before nodding, “Let’s go, I’m cooking”.

Noah softly held your hand as you both padded towards the stairs. The thought of having a day with just you was all he could have dreamed of. It felt different this year. He didn’t dread it as bad. It was… “Happy birthday to you”, the sound made Noah jump slightly as the living room finally came into view. “Happy birthday to you”, he watched with big eyes the sight in front of him. You couldn’t see the ceiling through all the balloons. His fingers reached out grabbing one of the pictures attached to the golden thread. A picture of you kissing him through the mask. One that Folio had snapped after the concert. The first concert you had attended as his girlfriend.

“Happy birthday, dear Noah” The smell of pancakes hit him next, a big plate in Jolly’s hands, and in the middle instead of Noah’s age, scribbled “old”. Noah couldn’t help but shake his head. Matt and Folio came up next pushing him around as they sang the rest of the awful song to him. But he couldn’t find it in himself to frown. To be upset over it. Quite the opposite Noah’s cheeks ached from smiling.

“Blow the candles out and make a wish”, Jolly nodded towards the pancakes. Noah shook his head looking at all the people he cared for the most, standing around the kitchen island. “Was this your doing?”, he turned to you. Your face fell slightly, “I’m sorry if it’s…”, but Noah simply reached for your hips, snaking his long arm around you as he pulled you closer. “Thank you”, he muttered against the side of your neck. “You’re not mad?”, you pulled back slightly. He simply shook his head, “It feels… good”. You leaned your forehead against him, feeling relief wash over you.

“Okay, lover birds, nuzzle later or Noah will be eating vax with his pancakes”, Jolly snapped his fingers making Noah snort as he leaned for one more quick kiss to your temple. “Should we sing him happy birthday again?”, Folio shot everyone a wink. “Oh, please no..”, Noah grunted but it was already too late as everyone joined in once more. But even if he was shaking his head, pressing his face into your chest as if he could hide from that tune, you could tell that Noah was trying to fight his smile just as hard.

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian x you #noah bad omens x reader #noah bad omens imagine #bad omens x reader #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens imagine #bad omens x you

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luna0713hunter · 9 months ago

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Wonder If She Loves Me

⊰⊹its 3 in the morning and Izana misses you.

˙❥˙ warnings : breakup,makeup, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending

♫♪ music : Wonder if she loves me By JVKE

a/n : maybe this got too angst...oops? Hope you enjoy it tho, darling @milky-aeons

It's 3 in the morning and Izana can't sleep.

He's been staring at his ceiling for the past 2 hours or so (honestly he has lost the track of time),and something interesting about the cracks on the walls has his eyes wondering over to them every five minutes. his throat is slightly aching, but he cant really bring himself to get up and have a glass of water;so he just lays there,with his violet eyes wide open and his hands clamps over his chest. Usually,on these kind of nights,he would busy himself scrolling through his phone.

Not tonight though.

It's been a whole week since Izana had checked his phone; he's sure it's death already,but that's for the best. He doesn't need to look at his phone because there are only pictures of you greeting him.

He doesn't need a reminder of you.

But as time goes by,and the clock keeps ticking,Izana lets out a loud groan and pulls his pillow from under his head,and pushes it against his face;he desperately tries to stop himself from reaching out for his phone. To unlock it and find your contact.

To push a single button and call you, but he cant.

Because Izana is too much of a burden,and he knows that you deserve way better. You,who has the heart of gold,smile brighter than the sun,and gods above,your eyes-

Izana misses you. But he can't do anything about it;after all,he was the one who pushed you away. He was the one who suggested you two take a break. And like a coward he is,he just holed up inside his house for a week,not bothering to go outside or talk to anyone. But as each minute goes by, Izana's eye twitches more-

He reaches over and takes his phone.

Its dead,as expected;and he has to wait until the screen is lightened up again when he plugs it in. There are lots of missed calls and texts from his friends,and its a wonder that none of them have brought the door down already. They probably know he's not in the mood and just let him be for awhile. As Izana's scrolling down his texts,his phone vibrates in his hands and upon seeing the ID,he answers it with a sigh.

"What is it,Kakucho-"

"You have some balls to talk like that,Izana. I was about to grab an axe from the storage and knock your door down." Kakucho sounds mad. Izana doesnt understands why, "you've been ignoring our calls and texts all week. You've had all of us worried sick!we didn't know if you were death or alive or-"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why have you been worried?"

There's silence on the other side,and the Kakucho sighs. Izana can particularly see him pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Stop with that. You know we..." Another pause. "..care about you." Kakucho finishes awkwardly.

And Izana doesnt get that; because all his life,no one's ever cared about him. Not when his own mother abounded him. Not when his older brother died and left him all alone.

And there's you.

Izana didn't know he loved you well pasted your friendship. He always though its just a friendship thing;like how he doesn't mind having Kakucho around. But as time passed by,he understood he didn't just like having you around;he wanted you all to himself. He wanted to call you his;to hold your hand and hear your sweet laughter. To be the reason for your every smile,and protect you just like how he always wished to be protected.

But now you're gone,and its his fault.

"Is this about y/n?" His friend's voice brings him back to the reality.

Because Kakucho could always read him like an open book.

So he rolls over,and lays on his side;his eyes have long adjusted to the darkness,and the faint light coming from the clock on his bedside has him staring at the staring at the small picture frame that's sitted upon it;a picture of you when he had taken you on a ride for the first time. You're grinning so brightly in the picture; your hair is slightly tousled and your cheeks are flushed. The sky is sunny behind you,but your smile is brighter than any star. He stares at the picture until its craved on his mind,and when he closes his eyes,he can see your face behind his eyelids.

"Izana..." Kakucho's voice is softer this time, "call her. You know she loves you."

"I was the one who suggested this. I broke her heart."

"She understands."

"She deserves better." And at last,after a week long of staring aimlessly at the pictures on the wall,Izana finally grits out the thought that hunted his every waking moment and sleep.

Because it was true;you deserved someone better.

That's why Izana did this;why he broke your heart. Why he invited you over to your favorite cafe and when you were laughing about something silly that your friends did,he blurted out those words.

"Let's break up."

And he had given himself a moment to admire you one last time;to see how your face had crumbled,and your pretty smile had suddenly vanished completely. He waited and felt that sickening twisted in his heart;like a knife had dug itself deep in his chest. But he was sure a knife wound would've hurt less than the defeated look on your face.

He hadn't waited for you to ask why; because he couldn't tell you the reason. He couldn't bring himself to tell you how much you mean to him, but you deserve someone who's not so broken and obsessed with revenge.

So Izana had left;had rode home, feeling absolutely nothing. He had turned off his phone,and buried himself under his covers.

It's 3:15 am,and gods above,he misses you.

As if sensing his every thought, Kakucho breaks the heavy silence.

"Call her,Izana." And with that,he hangs up.

Izana listens to the silence before opening his eyes once again. He stares at the too bright screen of his phone,but he's just lost in the picture of the two of you as his wallpaper. The smiling face of his own face feels alien,but your blinding one is all too familiar.

The picture is months old,his favorite one yet,but it feels like he'd taken it yesterday.

The day he'd asked you to be his girlfriend,he had promised you he'll always protect you. You had laughed,called him your hero with a cheeky grin,and kissed him softly.

He had promised you to be a better man in his heart,but he was always good at breaking his promises.

But now,as he stares at your contact,and the clock shows 3:30 am,his finger hovers over the 'call' button;he knows you're sleeping. You dont have any reason to dwell over someone like him. Because he's a rotten soul,and he knows it fully well. But he can hear your voice telling him he's wrong;that you love him no matter what. He can see you frown,your beautiful eyes shining sadly as you cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips on his skin.

Izana sighs and closes his eyes;he drops the phone on the mattress beside his head,the screen laying down. Like this,he can't see your smile on on his phone. Like this,blinded by the light of his phone,he can't momentarily see the picture frame on his bedside.

Like this,he can pretend you never existed;that he was all alone since day one.

But that's impossible. Stupid even; because the day you entered his life with your smile and understanding eyes,Izana hasn't been alone ever since. And now that you're gone, there's a hole in his heart;right in the middle of it where you belonged. No, that's not right.

There's a hole where his heart used to be,and the day he left you in that cafe,he clawed his heart out and left it with you there.

There's a hole in izana's chest that he knows will never be filled.

His room is quiet, eerily so. So when his phone starts vibrating right next to his face,his eyes snap open.

He's ready to tell Kakucho off;that he doesn't need to call you and ruin your life any further. He's ready to yell at his only friend,and then shut off his phone and never turn it back on again.

But when he turns his phone over and is ready to press the 'answer',he sees the ID.

Your name, along with the heart emojis you'd insisted he put beside it,makes him stare at the too bright screen until his eyes are burning.

Its almost 4 in the morning. There's no way you're calling him.

Maybe its just a dream;he hasn't slept well these past few days,always tossing and turning until the dawn. Maybe he'd fallen asleep the minute Kakucho had hang up. He's sure he's dreaming, because you're supposed to forget all about him;to move on with your life and forget someone as rotten as him.

Izana's sure he's dreaming.

He presses the 'answer' button.

There's a moment where neither of you say anything;he can hear the sound of your trembling breathing,and he closes his eyes. It must be a dream;his worst nightmares. That you always call,but doesn't say anything and he has to suffer through it knowing you will never talk to him ever again.

"... Izana?"

His eyes snap open.

"Iza...?are you there?"

And Izana doesn't know what to say; this isnt like any dream or nightmare he ever had. Usually, in his dreams,he watches you suffer because of his selfishness;cryin, bleeding.

Dying.

But now,as he hears your soft and gentle voice (always so caring with him),he knows he's not dreaming.

That its 3:47 am,and you've actually called him.

"Yeah," he chokes out, "yeah, I'm here."

At that,you let a shaky exhale and grow quiet.

"I-... I'm sorry I called at this hour.you were probably sleeping."

"I wasn't."

"You.. weren't?"

Izana laughs breathlessly. Bitterly.

"No,i wasn't." His fingers play with a loose thread on his sheet, "why..."

"I never got the chance to ask why, Iza." Your voice sounds broken,hurt. Izana wants to rip his heart out;maybe bleeding hurt less than hearing your broken tone, "was it...was it something i did?i wasn't good enough?"

And gods above,he was never so tempted to kill himself in his whole damn life.

Because,how even for a second did you think that you were the problem?

That you were anything but perfect?

"No baby, no" and Izana hates how his voice shakes; his body trembling because he doesn't have the right to act this way when he was the one who broke your heart, "it was never you. How could you think that?"

"But you left," Izana squeezes his eyes when your first sob comes out, "and didn't even tell me why."

And this is his punishment,Izana thinks;to listen to your muffled sobs at 4 in the morning and not being able to reach out. To comfort you,to hold you close and tell you how sorry he is.

Because Izana is a rotten, rotten man. He doesn't deserve someone like you.

"Iza," you say between your sobs, "its been a week and you didn't call. Kakucho-kun said he couldn't get a hold of you. I was worried sick!" When your voice cracks, Izana clenches his fist so tight his knuckles turn white.

Even after a whole week of suddenly breaking up with you and not even bothering to tell you why,you still worry about someone like him.

"Babe, listen to me." His voice is calm,if not slightly shaky, "nothing was ever your fault,i just..."

"Then why?"

You sound so small. Izana can see you burying your face in your pillow;your tears already soaking through the sheets.

"Because," he chokes slightly;voice cracking, "babe...i..."

He takes a deep breath.

"You deserve so much,much better.i couldn't have done that to you."

You're quiet. You don't even breath.

Izana shuts his eyes and sighs.

"Y/n...baby doll,you were everything to me;my whole life,my only reason for living. But..." And Izana doesn't cry,he doesnt. But his eyes burn and his throat is closing up, "but i had to let you go."

"So you gave up on me. On us?"

"I never gave up on you. But i couldn't -"

"Iza," you softly cut him off, because that's all you've ever been with him;too gentle,too caring, "the things that's going on in your head,i cant stop them. But babe...i love you so much."

"I'm broken."

"No one's perfect,darling." You tell him. Ever so patient, "broken or not, you're still my Izana. And i..." He can feel you biting your lips, "still love you too much to let you go.."

And for the first time in the entire week,he thinks he can breath a little better.

"I love you too." He whispers,eyes glued to your pictures frame.

"Then..lets try again?" There's a hesitation in your voice,a slight quiver. "This time,no hiding secrets though,alright?"

And Izana smiles,for the first time in forever and nods.

"Deal." Then he glances at his digital clock, "can i...come over?"

"Its 4:15 am,babe." You sound surprised;like he hasn't done this before. Izana rolls his eyes, "dont you wanna sleep?"

"I cant sleep without you in my arms. Please?"

And when you giggle, although voice slightly hoarse from all the crying,his grin widens more.

"I take that as a yes." But even before saying that, he's already grabbing his jacket and keys,and rushing out the door toward his motorcycle.

"Be careful!!"

And your laughter,makes him let out a laughter on his own;how could he ever,even for a second,think he could let you go?

Oh,he has a lot to makeup for.

#izana kurokawa x reader #tokyo revengers izana #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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milliesfishes · 3 months ago

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⋆౨ৎbilly paints your belly⋆౨ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

You sighed, leaning back on the couch and letting your head lull. Outside you could hear the distinctive sounds of the night beginning, ranging from cars pulling into driveways to crickets chirping their evening prayers.

Billy was somewhere in the house rummaging around, and you let the sound soothe you. It'd been a long day on your feet, and you were attempting to relax, ignoring the panging reminders that you couldn't go out at this time of year like everyone else. Nearby your phone was pinging with texts from your group of friends, who were all out at the bar. Tonight was some kind of Halloween special- you hadn't bothered looking into details. It was too late in your pregnancy to go out for very long, especially after a lengthy day.

The baby had been restless all day, kicking at your tummy and moving like she was running a marathon. You'd tried everything you could think of- rubbing, talking, resting. But it had been useless. Now that it was the end of the day, you hoped that she would finally go to sleep and give you a break.

Emerging from your room, Billy grinned when he saw you, crawling onto the couch and bending to kiss your belly. "Hi mama."

"Hi daddy," you smiled, reaching for him. Billy greeted you with a kiss to your temple, pulling your legs across his lap. Without you asking, he started to knead at your feet, making you sigh softly in relief. "That feels nice."

"Yeah?" Billy rested his chin on your shoulder, pressing the softest peck to your jaw. "I saw what everyone's sayin'." He was on the group thread too. "'m sorry you can't go out with 'em."

"You could have gone," you said, turning to face him.

He gave you a look. "Without you? C'mon." Billy kissed your cheek. "I'd much rather stay home with my girl."

Smiling softly, you kissed his shoulder. "Well whatever are we going to do with all this free time?"

Billy drummed his fingers lazily on your belly, eyes cast to the side as he thought. Then they lit with the spark of an idea. "Y'know that picture you sent me yesterday?"

"The one of the flowers?"

"Yeah."

A little smile crept up your lips like a vine, and you ran a hand through his hair, searching his eyes. "You want to do that?"

"It's cute." Billy kissed your tummy, getting to his feet. "I'll go get the paint."

Ten minutes later found you with your shirt discarded, leggings pushed down. You adjusted the strap of your bralette as he squinted at your belly. Situated sideways between his spread legs, your head was resting on a pillow, your feet on the armrest.

The paint was cold against your skin, and you shivered, making Billy chuckle. "Sorry, darlin'. I'll be gentle." His gaze was concentrated, and you entertained yourself by watching him. The furrow in his brow, the way his eyes squinted at the work in front of him. It was sweet how focused he was, devoting himself to the task.

After a period of time that felt like close to nothing when you were in Billy's presence, he blew lightly on his creation, making you giggle. "Are you done?"

"Uh huh." He slid a hand under your back, helping you sit up. "D'ya like it?"

You looked down, trying to stretch your neck and see every angle. Scattered over your belly were delicate little flowers with orange petals. Touching one, you giggled, leaning over to kiss Billy's cheek. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Billy set the paintbrush aside, shifting his legs so you'd be more comfortable. He wrapped his arms around you, mindful of your sensitive breasts, pressing two kisses to your hair. "You're pretty. So pretty, sweetheart."

He stroked your side, humming once, and you felt the baby settle. She'd hardly kicked while he was painting, likely enjoying her daddy's touch. Billy was always the one to calm her movements.

Speaking up, he murmured, "Wanna put on a movie? I can go get us some dinner."

"Uh huh." Your eyes were fixed on your belly, on the flowers dotted there. He'd done such a good job, and you were elated by it.

"Alright then." Billy managed to untangle himself without moving you, and you smiled sweetly up at him, hands on either side of your thighs. He grinned at the sight of you, reaching for his phone. "You're cute." You sat still while he took a picture, closing your eyes when he kissed your forehead, going to get his keys. "I'll be back in a minute, you okay?"

"I'm okay." You wiggled your fingers in a wave, and he blew a kiss, the door shutting behind him.

Ten minutes later, you got a text containing the picture he'd snapped, the accompanying message making you smile.

My pretty girls.

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #william h bonney x reader #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x you #billy the kid imagine #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid fic #william h bonney imagine #william bonney #tom blyth #william h bonney #milliesfishes billy

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creedslove · 2 years ago

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BABY BLISS 🍼 - PART TWO

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: after his breakdown, Joel wakes up and keeps admiring your sleeping figure as he is lost in his own thoughts about your relationship and your future together

(this is the second part of BABY BLISS 🍼 and both parts of this story can be read as sequences of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧 and MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙)

Warnings: angst, age gap, insecure!joel, fluff, pregnancy thoughts, not quite breeding kink but a little if you want to interpret that way, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v sex, crempie

A/N: I love Joel Miller 😭😍

1.8k words

When Joel woke up later that night, he groaned confused at the tangled memories that came to him slowly as the sleep fog made his thoughts seem so disconnected and far away. He felt your weight against his chest, your warmth, and his favorite scent in the world: the smell of you, your hair, your body, everything. It was sweet, it reminded him of flowers under a sunny day. He smiled softly as he planted another soft peck on your forehead but you didn't even move, you were deeply asleep. He carefully rolled your body to the side, so you'd be resting your face on your pillow instead of his body and got up as silently as he could, he walked to the window and looked out, as an old habit and paced the room. He thought of how he had hold your body close to his as he drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions he was dragged into earlier that day. He could never imagine he would break down in front of you like that. It was a simple task, all he had to do was to hold his niece for a little while. And he enjoyed it at first, she was beautiful, sweet, she was just a small little being full of love, who smiled at him and fell asleep after nuzzling his chest.

It was too much purity and love for his heart to take and he was immediately taken to a time where he thought nothing bad would ever happen, where he was young, full of life and hope and he had just welcomed his newborn daughter into his arms.

Of course her mom wasn't in the picture, but he loved her with all his heart and Sarah loved him too, they were a small family but they were a happy family.

And those memories hurt him more than any other glimpse of murder, violence, raiders, clickers. Nothing was worse to Joel than to remember his daughter alive and come back to the cruel, old reality of her death.

It'd been two decades, but the wound was fresh, as if it had happened the day before, and he knew he would never get over it. So what would happen when Flora started to grow up? Would she have the same laughter as Sarah? Would she be just as smart? Would she ask questions the whole day? Would she love butterflies and the solar system and be the most mesmerizing thing he'd ever seen? He didn't want to suffer in anticipation but he knew it was a fear he would always carry, to have just small glimpses, resemblances of his beautiful late daughter because she was taken away from him in such a cruel way.

Joel was just so confused at that moment. How could he avoid his own niece? Besides, he didn't want to avoid her, because that would mean he would avoid his own brother and his sister-in-law and he would miss out on birthday parties, dinner parties, special holidays. After being alone for so long, he just didn't want to give up his family.

And then he had you, and you had told him those three words.

Joel just froze when he heard that sweet bliss coming out of your mouth.

He didn't find strength in him to bring you closer and whisper to you how much he loved you back, because he did love you very much. Like he thought he never would again and in such intensity he didn't think it was possible. And yet he cowardly kept silent, not being able to bring himself into telling you how much he loved you.

Maybe it was a good thing, he always lost the ones he loved or maybe if you thought he didn't love you, you'd leave, it would be better for you after all, you could find someone suitable for you, someone your own age, someone who could grow old with you and protect you.

But Joel was selfish and he didn't want to give you up, he knew he would never be a good option, you could do so much better than him, but he was also not letting you go, no matter what. Unless you wanted him gone, he would keep you as his like a greedy man would keep a precious stone: forever.

Joel sat on the edge of the bed and watched you sleep peacefully, you were so beautiful, so effortlessly gorgeous at any hour, but there was something about your sleep that made Joel's old heart race. He just loved watching you like that.

He eyed your body and noticed you'd fallen asleep in your jeans and your boots and he remembered what you'd told him the night you went back to sharing a bed after getting into Jackson.

You didn't have to sleep in your jeans anymore, because the two of you were safe and you wouldn't have to worry about escaping or fighting during the night.

His hands found their way to your legs, pulling them closer as he unzipped your boots and carefully took them off.

He also got rid of your socks, leaving your feet naked, massaging them in light touches and kissed the back of it softly.

He saw how you whimpered in your sleep and chuckled to himself.

Joel's hand went for the button of your jeans, opening it and unzipping your pants before pulling them down.

He managed to lift your hips a little in order to get the pants off and you were lying in bed only in your shirt and panties.

It wasn't an erotic moment, he wasn't undressing you to touch you, he just wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, you were his sweetheart, his princess, his darling. He wanted all the best that old man could give you.

He spotted your lower belly and was taken aback by the sudden feeling of affection and softness.

He closed his eyes and pictured a tiny little dot inside, one that would grow to a fetus and then evolve to a baby, a beautiful lovely baby. One that would have your smile and your eyes, maybe a little girl who would be his forever princess, or a little boy he could teach how to play baseball or play the guitar one day.

No, Joel told himself. It was a dangerous path, he didn't really want a child, he couldn't have one, he couldn't just put you through a pregnancy in an apocalyptic world.

It was madness.

But he was entitled to dream, wasn't he? And he liked the feeling he had when he did it, how beautiful you were, the glow he admired, how sexy you became while pregnant. He enjoyed that scenario, he really did.

He opened his eyes and stared into your womb again, maybe there was already a baby in there and you guys didn't know?

No, Joel quickly dismissed the idea, he pulled out most of times… of course sometimes he would cum inside, you both loved it, but he knew you weren't a virgin when you met, and if you other boyfriends never got you pregnant, he wouldn't either.

Still, he smiled and pecked your womb gently, feeling a soothing warmth in his heart, he loved you, he just didn't know why he was so weak he couldn't admit it out loud.

You ran your fingers through his hair. You loved how soft it was no matter how wild his curls looked. You woke up when you felt his presence hovering over you, how his beard tickled your soft, sensitive skin and then his lips on your womb.

You had a warm smile and the moment he noticed you wake, he stared at you. Your hands stroked his cheek softly, loving how he leaned into your touch.

"Hey…" you told him softly and tried pulling him up for a hug, but Joel's strong hands held your waist down, so you would be trapped without moving.

"Hey darling" he replied "don't move, let me make you feel good, you deserve it, princess" you were about to protest but Joel placed a soft kiss to your clothed clit, earning a whimper from you.

You look down at him and smirked

"Taste me, Joel… it's all for you" you tugged his hair and pulled his face towards your clothed cunt.

He chuckled at how eager you were and pulled your panties to the side and spread your lips, watching how your hard clit twitched and smirked.

"So fucking beautiful, so fucking sweet" he whispered and pecked your bud again

"Joel" you moaned, hoping he wouldn't tease you.

And he didn't tease you.

Joel sank his face into your pussy and ate you out desperately, he ate you out like he hadn't seen your pussy in months. He feasted on your juices, slurping and suckling on your clit.

He made you cum once, twice and he wanted a third one, but you were overstimulated and wanted him.

"Come here" you groaned, pulling him closer and caressing his cheek gently, you pecked his lips, tasting yourself on his mouth and wrapping your legs around his waist.

You could feel Joel hard, but he didn't make a move, instead, he stroked your hair and stared into your eyes with so much love, Joel loved you, he hoped you could feel it, because he was a coward.

You placed your hand on his chest, over his heart and stroked it gently "I know it" you whispered "I know it Joel" you kissed him again, you didn't want to pressure him into anything.

He was in awe at you, you were gorgeous, precious, the best thing that happened to him in so long and it wasn't fair if he made you look for his affection, for small crumbles of it. You gave yourself fully to him, it would be only fair if you knew how much he loved you.

You reached for his belt and opened it, so eager to have him inside of you, as you freed his hard cock and felt how wet his tip was with pre cum.

You closed your eyes as he slid inside of you, stretching you and letting you get adjusted to his size before you could both move your hips at the same pace.

You couldn't keep your lips away from his, you felt such a deep connection towards Joel, you wanted to feel him whole.

You could see the sweat forming on his forehead and how his neck vein got more apparent and you knew he was close.

You fastened your pace, squeezing your inner walls, wanting to make him feel good, as great as he'd made you feel.

Joel couldn't hold himself anymore, both his orgasm and also his words. He needed you to know.

"I love you" he groaned into your ear at the same time you felt his load inside of you.

He hadn't pulled out, because he loved you and deep inside of him, a side that still longed for a family, for a happy ending wished there could be more to it, maybe a new start.

_____

A/N: I love Joel Miller so much, I wanna marry him and give him beautiful children 🥺

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfictions #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou show

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whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

Text

With You Again

König x Female Reader

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Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Established relationship, mentions/descriptions of war, brief mention of guns, references to male and female masturbation, praise kink, size kink, dry humping, oral (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, dom!König

◆

A/N: thank you to @phnyx for helping me round out the edges of this piece <3 and thank you TONS to @xsvenjasophiex for helping me with the German vocab and grammar. I appreciate you endlessly!!

I have been so THIRSTY for this man lately y'all, Jesus. Brb, thinking about him speaking German to me

◆

König Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

The mud sticks to his face like thick glue, his body caked in the dirt as he trudges on through. And the relief he seeks is nowhere in sight, not even when he retreats to the trench. He has to duck, to bend at the knees until he’s in the safety of his designated bunker, his team’s barracks. He feels no reprieve, not even when sitting on the wooden bench. The body he’s worked for years to build is exhausted, forced to its limit. And yet, he must go on. Not only for the others, for he is the one they rely so much on, but for you.

And that’s when he glances down at his rifle, resting on the mass of his thigh. His chest is still heaving, heartbeat evening out when he sees it - the picture of you. It’s of course torn and covered in dirt but he wipes it off often enough to still see it. Your sickeningly sweet grin, your gorgeous face, the way you’re laying.

“Meine Welt.” It’s quiet, said through a tired breath. And even though his lids are fluttering, desperate for rest, he focuses on you. You keep him awake, alert, you remind him of what he’s fighting for. (My world)

Out in the field, he looks to you often. And when he has time to rest, he’ll take off his helmet, looking into the inner rim. The same picture of you graces his desperate orbs, delivering him an ounce of peace. This photo doesn’t get torn as often as the one on his gun, and still, it’s not the cleanest copy he has. While he keeps two with him at all times, he keeps the third and most pristine one hidden away.

When he’s clean enough to lie down, stripping himself of his khakis and weapons, he’ll lay his body over the cot he’s been given. But before he allows himself his much needed sleep, he’ll reach under his pillow, searching for that exact same scene. The one he captured on a Sunday morning, the view of you in his bed. Your shared bed.

“Smile, Schatz.” He’d grinned, holding the polaroid camera over you. (Sweetheart)

It was early enough for you to still be waking up, your hair a complete mess with the blankets crumpled around the bed. But he thought it was adorable, the sight of you. The morning sun shone around your sleepy form in the most elegant of ways, even though all you had on was his oversized shirt. You smirked up at your enormous lover, offering a flirty grin. And the longer he looked at it, the more he saw your nipples rising beneath the fabric of his shirt, the hem of your panties peeking out along your thigh. This photograph was all he needed. When he couldn’t calm his mind, this is what he turned to. And when his arousal ran high, it offered him release.

What you’ll find in his innermost parts, is emotion, emotion that ran wild like the river and raged like the sea. He longed for you, in the purest of ways. His devotion to your well-being was unlike anything he’s ever experienced. And daily was the occurrence of his words floating across a secret page.

I miss you, every day. And every day only serves to prove that I am living my life away from you.

It tore him to pieces, being gone for so long. He wonders about how lonely you must feel, going about your day-to-day activities with no one but yourself. How big the house must feel, with only you in it. But when he’s home, he fills it completely. Not just with his physicality but with his emotional presence.

“König,” You practically sob into his shoulder, holding onto him. The way your hearts pound for each other, the way your body releases all its tension when you’ve been reunited, are two sensations you positively yearn for.

“Mein Mädchen,” He coos, repeatedly rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I’m home.” (My girl)

It’s the pose you always fall into, your signature snuggle - him on the couch with his legs spread, and you cuddled onto his lap. You’re straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck while you press your covered front to his.

“How have you been?” He asks gently, his voice soft. And when you lift your head, he cups your face, thumb sweeping over your skin. “Ich mache mir Sorgen um dich.” (I worry about you)

“Why?” Brow furrowing, you tilt your head, resting in his large palm.

“You are meine Welt, my everything.” He explains, his eyes full of emotion as he says it. “You are my peace, and thinking of you alone in this house brings me pain.” With a heavy sigh, he brushes his thumb over your cheek once again. “And I have enough pain.” (My world)

Cuddling into you, he releases another breath, feeling you cradle his head against your chest. “I am just fine, mein Liebling.” The softness of your hand runs down the back of his head, still covered. “And even better now that you’re back.” (My darling)

You’re everything he could ever need. With you, his woes from war are gone. With you, he feels human again.

With the amount of ease you put him in, it’s not long before you’re lifting that hood, putting your lips on him. Usually, it would be alarming, someone lifting his mask. But for you, he’d do anything. And yet, you still haven’t seen him without it. You respect him too much to do that.

His lips find yours again and again, searching for the love they’ve been neglected. It’s sloppy, lazy, the two of you taking time to just enjoy it. Your tongues slide along the other’s in a rhythm only the two of you know, the actions entirely unhurried. Neither of you are rushing this - you’re finally receiving the time you’ve been missing.

“Baby,” As soon as he does it, you’re pressing against him, against the firmness of his chest and abdomen. He knows how much you love his body heat, forgoing his shirt quite quickly.

Shifting your hips over his, he groans, searching for your mouth again. You’re partially under that dark hood, devouring the moans coming from his lips. And then you’re dragging yourself over him, repeatedly grinding down onto his steadily rising erection. Easily, those incredibly large hands find your hips, guiding your movements and urging you to apply more pressure, to move a little faster.

“Your beautiful body… it already feels so good against me…” His accent is thick, hungry.

“I love how you sound,” You breathe out in return, sighing. “When you whimper…”

One muscular arm wraps around your lower back, sneaking beneath your shirt so he can feel your skin. He can’t help the noises he makes, he’s unable to keep himself at bay whenever he’s with you. You’re all that’s been in his head for weeks on end.

“So needy,” He grunts out, thrusting upward between your legs. “As soon as you see me…” Ducking his head down, he finds your neck, holding onto your waist while you rub yourself over him. And his words prompt a certain heat to run up your neck and to your cheeks, filled with a sense of aroused embarrassment from his teasing.

Turning your head, you try to hide your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. But he sees, and he doesn’t like it.

“No, don’t hide from me. Don’t hide that pretty face - mein Gott, so fucking cute. I want to see that look when I touch you.” (My god)

“König,” Another whine, fingers clinging to him. He’s throbbing between your legs, constantly rubbing himself up against you.

“Look at me, pretty thing.” He demands, though his words are spoken softly, passionately. And he says it so sweetly that you almost can’t disobey him. “There you go,” Comes that genuine praise, his voice growing breathy and ragged. “Good girl.”

Lifting his hand to the back of your neck, he stares into your eyes, flicking back and forth between them. Shaking his head gently, he breathes out in awe, “Beautiful thing.”

It’s easy to enjoy it, the taste of his mouth and natural scent, the overall sensation of him. And while he finds incredible pleasure in the feeling of you grinding against him, your gorgeous mouth meeting with his, he wants more.

“I need to feel you.” König whines against your lips.

Carrying you with him is easy, you don’t even have to move. All he does is stand, holding onto your thighs while you hold onto him. And in a half a dozen strides, you’re in the bedroom, being laid down by your love.

Even quicker than you, he removes your clothing, immediately laying himself out between your thighs to hover above your body. Your surroundings are barely lit, but he doesn’t need much to see the beauty of you. He traces your body with his hands, the curves more familiar to him than his own breath. And immediately, he’s finding your chest, massaging the softness of your breasts before taking your nipple into his mouth.

“I’ve missed these…” He mumbles over you, hot breath soaking into your skin.

His tongue slides effortlessly across your body, humming happily when your legs lift to the sides of his torso. Already, you’re grinding up against him, wanting that same friction you’d made on the couch.

“My small doll,” König grins, sliding the bulk of his body down your stomach, crawling between your thighs and settling above your center.

Calloused palms and worn fingers caress your thighs in the gentlest ways he knows how. You’re so soft, so tiny and delicate. He treats you like glass, like if he moved you wrong, you’d break. But he’d never break you.

“I’ve dreamt of this… of licking you again. Süße, I’d do it for the rest of my life.” He’s mumbling just above your sex, the words barely having time to come out before he’s attaching his mouth to you. (Sweetheart)

Immediately, your back arches for him, nails digging into the muscles beneath his skin, clawing at his shoulders. He’s sucking your lips into his mouth, slurping on the wetness he’s already coaxed out of you. Pushing his tongue inside, he licks into you deeply, moaning when you suffocate him with your thighs.

“Baby, baby.” Gasping, you shove your hips up against him, feeling the familiar flick of his tongue over the quivering peak of your sex.

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speed up or slow down, he just continues. His eyes roll back from it, from the way your hips shift against him and the way you taste.

“Entspann dich, meine Engel.” He’s gasping, staring down at your glistening lips. “Let go for me…” And then he’s burying himself into you again, stuffing his tongue into your center while his nose rubs against your clit. (Calm yourself, my angel)

He can see the way your chest heaves, can hear the way your lungs tremble when you breathe. And he wants to feel it, god, he wants to taste it.

“König,” And then he’s moaning into you, feeling it rush onto his tongue.

His taste buds tingle with it, your release, repeatedly lapping at your sensitive center. Your thighs shake from it, jerking against his head while he holds you, strong hands keeping you in place for him.

“Perfect,” That deep voice groans, kissing your lower stomach. “Perfect…”

Lifting himself, you witness his biceps flex, the muscles in his chest tensing as his face returns to the smooth slope of your shoulder. You welcome him in, arms looping around his neck before he lifts his head, wet lips and chin pressing into your cheek as he says, “Doing just what I ask of you.” And then a sloppy kiss pressing into your skin, your cheeks plumping from his praise.

“Are you ready for me?” But he’s already grabbing himself, the tip of his dick kissing your clit before he rubs it over your wetness. “My, my… how wet you are… can you hear it, Süße?” He’s pressing his nose into your cheek, grinning. (Sweetheart)

“Mhm,” It’s forced out from your throat, a mewl, followed by a forceful gasp.

He’s pushing into you, the intrusion of him thicker than you remember. The searing heat from his skin spreads throughout your body, his chest pressing down into your own as he explores deeper.

“Deep breaths, my love.” Yet he’s struggling to steady his own. “That’s it, keep your eyes on me.” And this makes him so happy. “That’s so good, Liebling, precious thing…” (Darling)

Staring into his eyes, you wince, jaw dropping as he delves inside. It’s slow, gradual, because he knows if he goes any faster, this will be too quick of an endeavor.

Dipping his head down, he sighs out in awe. “Look at that, look how you open up for me. Oh, Süße, I’ve been dreaming of it since I left.” (Sweetheart)

“I’ve missed you, meine Kriegerin.” And that phrase forces a shiver through him. (My warrior)

“Oh, you were meant for it.” He grunts, finally thrusting into you with a desperate huff. “Meant to take me, to feel me deep inside… stretching you to fit. That’s it, keep breathing for me…”

But still, he’s not moving fast enough for you. It’s so slow that it’s agonizing, feeling the lazy drag of his veins against your walls, still sensitive from your first high. And it brings him great pride in knowing he gave you that gift so quickly. He’s hoping to give it to you again.

Feeling timid, you turn your head, hiding your face in the sheets. “P-Please.” But he just grins, coming down to grab your jaw, pulling your face back toward him.

“My cute little doll…” Your soldier muses, voice deep, sultry. “Say it again.” He’s addicted to it, addicted to the sounds you make when you’re taking it deep just the way he likes it.

His stare is possessive, dominant, insistent. And you give in. “Please.”

Just like that, he’s snapping his hips into your pelvis, and with every ounce of strength he has. It almost paralyzes you, the overstimulation of it all. His tongue on your neck, his body pressing you into the bed, his tip punching against your cervix.

Sliding his hand forward, König’s fingers intertwine with your own. He drags it up along the bed, holding it above your head. The groans coming from his chest rumble across your own, your head thrown back as you experience him. Jesus, you’ve missed this, you’ve prayed for this, to be in his arms again. Naturally, you cling to him, holding him as if he’ll never leave again. And you wish it was the truth.

“L-Liebling,” König grunts, feeling your nails dig into his back. He’s buried himself inside you, all the way to the hilt. “You’re squeezing around me so, so tightly.” His accent is thick, eyes closed as he attempts to even out his breaths. (Darling)

“I want it again.” Groaning, he shoves himself into you again, listening to the wet squelch of it. “Let me feel it, sweetling.”

“Please, make me. Make me, baby.”

Tilting your hips upward, you meet his thrusts. You’re squeezing his hand, feeling comforted by both his palm and the presence of his face in your neck. His muscular thighs flex against your legs, chest heaving above you as he feels you tremble. And the act of you clutching his hand, the sensation of you quivering around him, is making him lose his goddamn mind.

Your soft sobs provoke a small growl from his lips, his pelvis snapping against your sex. He’s throbbing inside you, scrotum drawing up tightly to his body as he begs for your release.

“König,” You wail, only to be met with, “Take it.”

What started out as innocently sweet has turned into ardent arousal, your body being ravaged by this hulk of a man. You’re his to claim, his to lay and spend every day with. And when he’s done wringing your body dry of pleasure, he’ll be there to coddle you, too.

Your body reacts so openly to him, whether or not he’s actively touching you. It’s all too easy for you to welcome him, your limbs wrapping around every inch of his body. The mere thought of your lover was enough to make your hands wander, your thoughts running wild in your head. Inhaling a sharp breath, you sigh, sliding your hand between your legs as you think of him.

But the sharp shrill of your phone shocks you back to reality, eyes blowing wide as your head snaps to the side. Immediately, you reach for it, heart lighting up with affection when you see who it is.

“König?” Your voice is eager, wanting.

“Meine Engel,” Comes that rough, sweet voice. “I am on my way.” (My angel)

Inside, your chest swells with emotion, head lolling back as you release a satisfied sigh. And on the other end of the phone, he hears you sniffle, smiling sincerely beneath the cover of his hood.

“I know, sweetling.” He coos, picturing your pretty face. “I’ll be there, I’ll be with you again soon.”

#Konig #my big man #I love you endlessly #pls call me your angel again #Konig cod #Konig cod mw2 #Konig x you #Konig x reader #Konig x female reader #Konig smut #cod smut #cod fanfiction

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fall0utmind · 2 months ago

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Chapter 10

Hi guys,

I am frankly absolutely shattered, so sorry in advance for any mistake. Here is chapter 10 of medical leak au! All other chapters under the tag or on my pinned

AO3 HERE

feedback is appreciated. Much love for you all <3

Marc wakes up with a raging hangover and a few regrets. He is momentarily thankful for the lack of nausea except that it feels like someone has taken a drill to his head, splitting it in too and he has been hit by a truck. He rolls over, pressing his face into the pillows and groaning. His head is pounding. It’s a startling reminder that he’s no longer 20. He would be perfectly happy to stay in bed all day, lazing around and wallowing in self-pity.’ He wishes he was at home, in the comfort of his house in Madrid, alone apart from dogs. But no matter how much he tries to will it into the universe, he is stuck in his motorhome in Misano with last night’s memories fresh on his mind. He pulls himself upright, wincing as it jars his sore head. The clock on his bedside shows that it’s only 10 am, far too early after a night of heavy drinking at 30-something years old. His stomach rolls threateningly, destroying his earlier gratitude.

The hangover makes him give up on all pretence of getting up straight away, rolling over and pulling the duvet around him, cuddling into the warmth. It only takes 5 minutes to realise that sleep is elusive, so he pulls out his phone to see last night's damage on social media. Thankfully, there are only a few photos of Marc, although he looks worse for wear in most of them. The comments mainly consist of people laughing at how drunk he looks or praising him for handling the weekend and his subsequent win. He is hopeful that means he did not do anything too embarrassing, or if he did, it hasn’t made its way online (yet). Upon further scrolling, Marc realises that a lot of the photos of him feature the academy boys. One picture in particular catches his eye: he is beaming at the camera as Pecco laughs beside him, and Bez is staring at Marc with wide eyes filled with wonder. Looking at it now, Marc can’t remember who had taken the photo, maybe Cele, but it is odd to see Bez look at him with something other than hatred and bitterness. He can’t help but feel fond as he remembers that there was a time when Bez was quite a fan. Marc found that he got on with Pecco more than he realised and that Bez and himself have quite a few similar qualities (perhaps they would make quite the dramatic pair). He hopes their relationship can flourish beyond civility from now on, but Marc knows not to get his hopes up too soon. He keeps scrolling, stumbling across a photo of him and Fabio dancing on a table. He isn’t sure his media team will be chuffed about it but it isn’t the worst that could have been captured on camera; his mind flashes to Valentino kneeling in front of him and he groans. He tosses his phone back onto the nightstand and closes his eyes, willing away the pounding behind his eyes.

He drifts in and out of slumber for some time, until he is awoken by someone knocking on the door. He groans, dreading the thought of interacting with another person when he feels like hell warmed over. Hauling himself out of bed and shuffling to open the door, Marc tries to muster up a smile. Relief floods him when he sees Dovi standing on the other side with two cups of steaming hot coffee. Dovi winces in sympathy when he sees Marc, which is never a good sign. He must look worse for wear, unsurprising considering the sheer quantity of ethanol he drank last night. Marc smiles grimly and moves aside to let the older man in, trailing behind Dovi into the living room and throwing himself onto the sofas. He instantly snuggles into the comfort, prompting a loud laugh from Dovi, which echoes in his skull. He glares at the older man, who promptly quietens, suitably chastised. A light kick to his calf from Dovi tells him to shuffle over with a huff, making more room on the sofa. He sits down next to Marc and hands him a coffee. The younger hums as he sips it, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“So about last night”, Dovi starts, a slightly humorous tone in his voice.

Marc stares at him in confusion. Last night? What had happened? He furiously wracks his brain, drawing a blank. Memories of dancing ridiculously to a pounding bass and drinking far too much bounce around his head. He pointedly does not allow his traitorous brain to slip to Valentino, not now. Nothing else comes to mind; he tilts his head at Dovi in confusion.

“Ah, you don’t remember. You were rather drunk at that point. Um, you kissed me, yes. Although not long after you went on a rant about Valentino. Something about him looking good on his knees… I believe.” Dovi blurts with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Marc remembers soft lips and tongue. Marc blushes furiously, turning bright red. The thought of forcing himself onto Dovi makes him grimace in humiliation. They’ve hooked up a couple of times before, but to kiss him in public feels wrong. Especially when Marc knows that he still has strong feelings for Valentino, as misguided as they may be. He forces himself not to think about Vale in this situation, of the vague form of the older man on his knees in front of Marc – God had he told Dovi?

“Oh god, I can explain”, Marc stutters. Dovi holds up a placating hand, laughing slightly at Marc’s panicked face.

“No need. You love him, yes? I understand. Well, maybe not understand, but you love him and that is what matters. Do not worry about the kiss, water under the bridge. I think you’re a fantastic friend and I’m very happy to leave it like that. Although, I don’t think I approve of your choice of men”, Dovi remarks. He sighs slightly, staring at Marc in consideration.

“I think he will try, for you. Valentino will give up at nothing to get what he wants, you know that. If he wants you, for real, he will stop at nothing until he has you, or at least until you shut him down. You should talk to him. Preferably when you’re sober.” Dovi continues.

Marc considers the statement carefully, mulling it over in his brain. He knows Valentino is determined and annoyingly stubborn; he has unfortunate first-hand experience. It is a shared trait that has previously ruined their relationship. Yet, determination is also their strength; Marc’s resilience to misfortune and Valentino’s longevity in the sport show that. Last night, Valentino got onto his knees for Marc and practically begged for forgiveness, showing such raw emotions that it was jarring. Marc was captivated, barely listening as Valentino apologised and promised to make amends. He doesn’t know how truthful it was. Marc isn’t stupid, he knows Valentino was drunk and there is every possibility it meant nothing, that Valentino doesn’t care. It’s terrifying. But then Luca showed up, berating Valentino as if he were the older sibling. He told Marc that Vale loves him, destroying any hope of him putting this behind him, or getting ‘over it’.

(Then again, it had already been ten years, what’s another ten?)

Luca isn’t a cruel person and he certainly isn’t a liar. He and Marc have always had a civil relationship, despite Valentino and Marc’s poor rapport in recent years. It is not in Luca’s nature to do something like that to retaliate, yet Marc cannot seem to believe him. Love? People in love don’t act like Valentino does, talking down on their beloved and being obsessively critical. Marc heaves a deep breath, mulling over the idea, inspecting it from every angle. Valentino’s obsession makes more sense in this light, a potential reason for the endless onslaught of criticism and nit-picking. Years of bitter hatred and heartbreak make love feel like a foreign concept. For Marc, it has been a decade of resentment turned into resignation. He has never allowed himself to imagine their future, always safer to assume they would remain legends of the sport, orbiting each other but never crossing paths again. Valentino would continue to go on his talk shows and make comments about Marc, whilst Marc would pretend not to care. Now though, he allows himself a glimpse of the daydream. Of soft mornings in bed and midnight rides along coastal roads. He closes his eyes and can almost hear the rumble of engines at the ranch and the sound of the academy, laughing as they whipped around the track, Marc and Valentino amongst them. Marc tries to hold back the hope unfurling within him.

Dovi sits beside him in companionable silence whilst Marc has a minor breakdown over Valentino. Their knees brush as they drain the last of their coffee. Dovi starts the conversation about the next race in Aragon. They decide that Dovi will visit again on Sunday, and keep in contact in between; Marc is torn between gratitude and embarrassment that his friends feel they need to babysit him like this. He settles on gratitude but promises himself to be stronger next time; Dovi appears to pick up on Marc’s self-criticism, elbowing him gently with a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When Dovi gets up to leave, Marc follows, pulling him into a grateful hug.

“Thank you. For everything.” He whispers against Dovi’s shoulder.

The older man pulls back and grins, ruffling his hair affectionately. Dovi has stayed with him through it all; he has allowed Marc to cry on him, and laugh with him.

(and snog him whilst off his face on cocktails)

As he watches Dovi leave, Marc cannot help but feel indebted to the older man for all he has done. Marc sighs, spinning away from the door and mentally collating the list of things he must do today, most importantly packing up and leaving Italy. He pulls himself into the bathroom, hoping to make himself feel more human. The hot water from the shower beats down, washing away the grime from last night. It is always Marc’s go-to after a rough night; the warmth settles into his bones. Afterwards, he steels himself to swallow a couple of ibuprofen pulls with a protein bar, to soothe his aching head.

He puts on a casual outfit before he heads out to find his brother (hopefully not in Franko Morbidelli’s motorhome). As a last-minute thought, he places a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of his nose- he’s done post-race celebrations enough times to know how to conquer the next day. Marc is barely down the steps when he spots him, freezing in place. Valentino is walking across the path, his eyebrows creased into a small frown of pain- he looks like he’s suffering as much as Marc. Valentino must feel eyes on him, as he stops in his tracks and meets Marc’s gaze, Marc feels pinned to the spot. He’s instantly assaulted by the mental image of Vale begging on his knees at his feet He physically shakes his head to dislodge the thought. Valentino shuffles closer whilst Marc is distracted, now only a foot away.

“Marc” Valentino whispers, looking slightly in awe.

“What, Vale?” Marc sighs, he feels tired and the nickname slips out by mistake, again. Valentino stares.

“I’ve missed you calling me that” Valentino admits. Marc’s heart aches at the admission.

Marc licks his lips. Valentino eyes follow the movement. Marc tilts his head and swallows slowly, deliberately. Valentino has to tear his eyes away. Interesting. Maybe his hopes were not completely unfounded.

“We should do this away from prying eyes, huh?” Marc questions.

The younger man sighs, turning around and pulling Vale back into the motorhome. If they’re going to have this conversation, they should definitely do it in private and sooner rather than later; Alex will have to wait. Once they’re safely inside, with the door locked, Marc looks at Valentino expectantly. Vale can't seem to decide where to look, bouncing from Marc’s lips to his eyes, to the wall, to the rumpled blankets on the sofas. When the older man looks back, Marc feels drunk on the determination set in Valentino’s eyes. It is such a familiar look on Valentino, but it’s so attractive that it makes him a bit stupid, his brain lagging as Valentino begins to talk.

“Congratulations on winning, you deserve it. It was one hell of a race. The top step looks good on you. It always has.” Valentino admits, leaving Marc gobsmacked. Valentino’s worried face tells him that he hasn’t finished his speech.

“I hope you and Dovi are happy” Valentino chokes out, sounding resigned and slightly upset. Marc startles, that certainly isn’t what he expected from this talk.

“Fucking hell, not you as well”, he groans.

Valentino's eyes widen, shock evident.

“I saw him leave,” Valentino says, his voice exasperated. Marc laughs, Valentino looks sceptical like he thinks Marc is tricking him.

(and isn’t that on brand)

“We aren’t dating, Vale. He’s a friend and a good one at that. But nothing more”, Marc comments, purposefully gentle. He wants to say more but is distracted by how Vale relaxes in relief. Maybe Luca was right.

Marc takes a step closer, encroaching on Valentino’s personal space and cataloguing how the older man’s gaze darts across his face. It feels powerful, to have Vale like this, hooked by every breath Marc takes. Valentino exhales. Marc takes another step, placing them chest to chest; Marc has to tilt his head up to watch Valentino, whose irises are engulfed by the black of his pupils. Very slowly, Marc stretches onto his toes and brushes his lips against Vale’s, praying that he hasn’t read this wrong. Vale reacts like he has been shocked, spurring into action and he pushes back into Marc, deepening the kiss as he leans down. Marc groans into it, unable to form any coherent thought, only focussing on the sensation of Valentino pressed to his front and his tongue in Marc’s mouth. Valentino huffs a breath, breaking for air. It thrusts Marc back into reality – he remembers last night.

Marc pulls away from Valentino slightly, they have to talk about this, Marc promised himself that he wouldn’t just fall at the first sign of reciprocation from Vale. There is still a decade’s worth of hurt between them that they cannot ignore. Valentino tries to reach for him, to reel him back in, but Marc steps away.

“Marc, please, come on”, Vale gasps.

Marc pointedly does not relent.

“We need to talk Valentino”, he says.

“We have talked, you are not dating Dovi. I congratulated you on the race and now we should kiss more.” Valentino suggests. Marc rolls his eyes, trying to contain his frustration. If only it was that easy.

“That’s all you wanted to talk about? Nothing else?” He forces his voice to stay neutral but gets nothing in return, there is no sign of recognition. Marc tries not to let the anger bubble over, instead he grinds his teeth.

“Do you remember last night Vale?”, he snaps.

Valentino frowns, “What about last night?” he replies. Marc grinds his teeth.

“You know, the bit where you got drunk and then fell to your knees and begged for forgiveness.” Marc snarls, frustration finally boiling over.

Valentino shakes his head, looking slightly embarrassed. Marc isn't sure he’s ever seen the older man embarrassed. He can’t even bring himself to feel vindictive.

“No, I didn’t” he proclaimed. Marc glares in response, his eyes filled with fury.

“Oh, you did. I knew it was just because you were drunk. Fucking hell Vale, we can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this. You need to leave me alone”, Marc growls. His face shutters as he speaks, giving away nothing – a blank slate.

“That’s what you want is it?”, Valentino says, his voice raising to almost a shout.

“No, of course I don’t Vale, don’t be stupid. It has always been you pushing me away. You’re being cruel. Do not act like I am the bad guy now, it is not fair”, Marc shouts. He shocks himself with the pain evident in his voice. He feels like he will never heal from this. Valentino has injected poison into his veins, destroying his heart one day at a time. A concoction of rage and hurt boils inside him.

“Don’t do this to me again. Please don’t fucking do this. God Vale, I can’t keep getting my hopes up and having them crushed. We have to stop this. You have to leave me alone.” Marc spits, the words flowing out of him, uncontained now that he’s started.

“I don’t want to leave you alone”, Valentino growls.

“That's not fair, you need to make a decision.”, Marc replies.

Valentino scowls, “I’m trying to make one, I try to tell you but it’s hard!”.

“You either want me or you don’t. You either love me or you don’t. I love you so fucking much it hurts.” Marc whispers. Valentino falls silent, his hand by his sides and his face slack. Marc doesn’t want silence, they don’t do silence or feelings, they do pure visceral hatred and shouting.

“Come on fight me on this, tell me you hate me. It’ll be easier than whatever the fuck is going on”, Marc is shouting now, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Valentino lets him shout- Marc hates it.

“What are you doing? Fight me, you bastard. Just do something. You’re meant to hate me.”, Marc yells.

Valentino simply stands there, letting Marc yell. Years of anger, heartbreak, and hurt burst out, filling the room with harsh truths and insults. Marc tells Valentino his darkest secrets and sobs as he says ‘I love you’. A part of Valentino breaks. Marc shouldn’t be crying when he says those words, he shouldn’t be crying at all.

“For God’s sake what’s wrong with you?”, Marc sobs.

“I’m tired, Marc. I’m tired of pretending that I don’t love you.”, Vale whispers back.

Marc chokes.

“I truly am sorry. I will be forever and I regret so many things. I realise I have so much to sort out. I may still feel some anger over the past but you are right that it was not your fault. You were an easy person to blame and that was not fair. I spent too long trying to push you away, to destroy you. I never looked to see what it had done, it was easier to pretend you weren’t human, that you didn’t feel. I was so afraid of everything I felt for you. I understand if you can never forgive me but I will spend every day till the end of my life trying to prove to you that I’m sorry.”, Valentino gasps, fighting for breath through his stumbling words.

Marc can’t cope with this anymore. He can't cope with the ghost of Valentino’s lips pressed against his own, nor the enormity of all he has just said. He cannot believe it has come to this- arguing in Marc’s motorhome and shouting ‘I love you’. Marc might cry, he doesn’t look back once as he rushes to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the bright sunlight outside. He can’t do this right now; he can’t look at Valentino and his promises for another second. His heart feels fragile in his chest, beating out of time.

Marc flees.

#motogp #marc marquez #motogp rpf #rosquez #my fics #medical leak au #valentino rossi #andrea dovizioso

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 4 months ago

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Between the Ropes… a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 21: Affairs.. am I right?

October 5th, 2024.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains as Jey blinked his eyes open. The house was silent except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan, and when he glanced at his phone, he noticed it was still a little early before the alarm Rhea had set for them. He turned to look at her beside him, peacefully sleeping, her hair slightly tousled across the pillow. Not wanting to disturb her, Jey slid out of bed as quietly as he could.

He grabbed some clothes, dressed quickly, and headed into the connected bathroom to brush his teeth. He splashed some water on his face, shaking off the grogginess, before heading downstairs. As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he spotted Jon leaning against the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee. The familiar smell of it filled the air, and Jey nodded at him.

“Morning,” Jey greeted quietly, careful not to make too much noise.

Jon smirked, clearly amused about something. “You’re up early, Uso.”

“Yeah, thought I’d get some breakfast for me and Rhea,” Jey said looking for Rhea’s keys. “You want to tag along?”

Jon raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Yeah, I could go for some food.” He put his cup down, grabbing his house key before following Jey out the front door.

The ride was quiet at first, the sun just barely starting to rise as they drove through the quiet streets of the neighborhood. After a few moments, Jon shifted in his seat and glanced over at Jey. The corner of his mouth lifted into a mischievous smile, and Jey knew something was coming.

“So, you and Rhea... last night,” Jon started, a hint of laughter in his voice. Jey’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he braced himself.

“Bro,” Jon continued, mimicking a high-pitched voice, “Oh Jey! Oh, Jey!!!” He let out a loud laugh, clearly relishing in the embarrassment that was now written all over Jey’s face.

Jey rolled his eyes, already regretting asking Jon to come along. “Man, shut up,” he muttered, his face flushed. He shifted in his seat, trying to focus on the road, but Jon’s laughter was contagious.

“I’m just saying, keep it down next time,” Jon teased, still laughing. “Thin walls, Uso.”

Jey exhaled deeply and shook his head, trying to play it cool. “Whatever, man,” he said, trying to hide his own smile. “Like you and Trinity don’t get loud.”

Jon smirked. “Hey, we’re seasoned pros. We know how to keep it under control.” He gave Jey a wink, which only made Jey shake his head harder.

Despite the embarrassment, there was an underlying warmth between the brothers. Jon’s teasing was just that—teasing. No judgment, just that typical sibling banter that reminded Jey that no matter what, they had each other’s backs.

After a few more playful jabs from Jon and some quick retorts from Jey, they pulled up to a local diner. The smell of bacon and fresh coffee filled the air as they walked inside. Jey placed an order for some pancakes, eggs, and bacon for him and Rhea, while Jon opted for the same.

As they waited for their food, the conversation turned from teasing to more serious matters—plans for the future, the upcoming matches, and of course, the growing responsibilities they both had. But even in the heavier moments, there was always laughter, always that unspoken understanding between them.

By the time they headed back to the house with breakfast in tow, the sun was fully up, and Jey could already picture Rhea waking up, likely wondering where he had gone. He glanced at Jon, who was sipping orange juice from a to-go cup, a smirk still lingering on his face from their earlier conversation.

Jey just shook his head, thinking to himself how, despite everything, moments like these were what mattered most. Family, love, and just trying to make it through each day with the people who knew you better than anyone else.

—

Flashback: October 2023.

Jey was in the middle of a heavy workout session in his home gym, the steady rhythm of his heart pumping in sync with the beats of the music blaring through the room. The weights in his hands felt familiar, grounding, the kind of intensity that gave him clarity. For Jey, this was where he found peace—away from the chaos of the road, the pressure of the industry, and, lately, the growing tension in his marriage.

Suddenly, the music dropped to a murmur, and he looked up to see Takecia standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression neutral but laced with impatience.

“Finish up soon. I want you to come with me to the mall,” she said, her tone more of an order than a request.

Jey wiped the sweat from his brow, his body still pulsing with adrenaline from the workout. His muscles were sore, and this was his only time to decompress, his only day off in what felt like months. He didn’t have it in him to go shopping—not today.

“Nah, I can’t. I’ve got too much to catch up on today,” Jey said, shaking his head as he continued his workout. “This is my only time to get some stuff done.”

Takecia rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed. She didn’t argue. Instead, she turned on her heel and left the room, her discontent hanging in the air.

Jey paused, taking a deep breath. He could feel the tension between them growing thicker, more present lately. It wasn’t something they talked about openly, but the cracks were showing. He wiped off the sweat with a towel and tossed it aside before following her into the house. He didn’t want to let it fester. Maybe if he went to her now, they could talk, smooth things over before the distance grew wider.

“Takecia,” he called out, his voice echoing in the hallway as he moved toward the living room.

He found her sitting on the couch, scrolling through channels on the TV without much interest. Jey sat down beside her, trying to bridge the emotional gap with a simple gesture. He leaned in and kissed her, hoping to cut through the tension with an act of affection. But the kiss landed cold.

Without looking at him, she muttered under her breath, a comment that stopped Jey in his tracks. “You never should’ve gone with your uncle all those years ago.”

The words hit Jey like a punch to the gut. He pulled back, his brows furrowing in confusion and hurt.

“What?” Jey asked, his voice low, not entirely sure if he’d heard her right.

She glanced at him with a hardened expression, her frustration breaking the surface. “If you hadn’t gone off chasing that wrestling career, maybe we wouldn’t be here—like this.”

Jey felt a knot tighten in his chest. The sting of her words cut deeper than any match he’d ever fought. Wrestling had always been his passion, his lifeblood. It was his identity. But to hear her throw it back in his face, as if the years he’d spent building their life, their home, their future meant nothing… It hurt.

He stood there, silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying not to let the hurt spiral into anger.

“Takecia…” Jey began, his voice quiet but steady. “If I hadn’t gone with my uncle, we wouldn’t have anything we do today. This house, the life we’ve built—none of it would exist.”

He wanted her to understand the sacrifices he had made, the hours spent away, the physical toll on his body. It wasn’t just for him—it was for them, for their family. Wrestling had given them a life, a future, opportunities they might never have had otherwise.

But Takecia wasn’t done. Her eyes, still fixed on the TV, glinted with resentment as she let out a cold laugh. “Yeah? Well, what good is all of this if I lost a husband in the process?”

Her words echoed in the room, louder than the TV or the silence that followed. Jey felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He didn’t know what to say to that. She had cut straight to the heart of the issue—her loneliness, her sense of abandonment. The late nights, the missed events, the feeling of being second to his career. But Jey never intended for it to be that way. He loved her, he loved what they had built, but how could he make her see that without wrestling, without his dream, none of this was possible?

Jey’s jaw clenched as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He hadn’t expected things to unravel like this. It was as if the foundation of their marriage was suddenly shaken by all the unspoken truths between them.

“Takecia,” Jey said, his voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “I’m still here.”

She didn’t respond immediately, just kept her eyes on the screen, unwilling—or unable—to meet his gaze.

“I’m still here,” he repeated, but even as the words left his mouth, they felt heavy, like they weren’t enough to bridge the widening chasm between them.

For the first time in a long while, Jey wondered if he could ever be enough—not just for wrestling, but for her.

—

Backstage at the Fastlane PPV, Jey felt a mix of excitement and tension brewing inside him. His conversation with Hunter still played over in his mind. The idea of his character evolving into "Main Event Jey Uso" was something he’d always envisioned—a chance to prove that he could stand on his own, that he wasn’t just a part of the Bloodline, but a force all by himself. But the part about developing a slow-burn crush on Rhea Ripley? That threw him off.

Jey had been clear about his reluctance. "It feels weird, Hunter. I’m married, man," Jey had said, his brow furrowed as he tried to express his discomfort.

Hunter, always the visionary, had nodded but didn’t back down. "Look, it’s just storytelling, Jey. Nothing personal. I get where you’re coming from, but this is about pushing you into a space that gets people talking. And Rhea? She’s hot right now, in every way. We’re not talking romance or anything wild. Just something subtle, slow-burning—letting the audience wonder where it’s going, but it’s never really said out loud, plus the crush doesn’t fully blossom until next year."

Jey hadn’t liked it, not one bit. It felt too close to home, too complicated. And after everything with Takecia, it felt like stirring a pot he was desperately trying to keep calm.

"Think about it," Hunter had said before walking away, leaving the decision in Jey’s hands.

Jey sighed as he made his way back to the locker room. The air felt heavier as he approached, knowing that in a few minutes, he’d have to deal with more than just ring action. His mind buzzed with thoughts about work, his marriage, his kids—everything was piling up, and he was struggling to keep it all straight.

When he entered the locker room, Roman, or Joe as Jey called him when they were away from the cameras, was already seated, looking calm and collected as always. Paul Heyman was pacing, as usual, going over details for the night.

"Yo, Joe," Jey greeted, sitting down beside his cousin.

Roman nodded. "Big night tonight, Uce."

Jey nodded, but his mind was elsewhere, still running through the conversation he had with Hunter. After a beat, he looked at Paul and asked, "Hey Paul, can you give us a second?"

Paul, ever respectful, quickly nodded and stepped out, leaving the two cousins alone. Roman looked at Jey, a slight confusion in his eyes. He knew when something was weighing on Jey, and tonight was one of those nights.

"What’s up, Uce?" Roman asked, his tone soft but serious.

Jey rubbed his hands together, nervous to bring it up. He wasn’t sure how Joe would respond, but he needed to know—he needed to talk to someone who could understand.

"Have you ever been tempted?" Jey asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Roman’s brow furrowed. "Tempted? What do you mean?"

Jey exhaled, feeling the weight of the question before he repeated himself. "Have you ever been tempted to cheat on your wife?"

Roman's eyes softened, and he looked at Jey with a mix of surprise and concern. This wasn’t something he’d expected Jey to bring up, but then again, everyone had their demons.

There was a long pause before Roman answered, his voice steady but laced with wisdom. "Look, man… everyone’s got temptations, Uce. It’s part of life. We’re on the road, away from home, surrounded by stuff that can make you forget what’s important. But at the end of the day, it’s about what you choose. You make that choice to be faithful. Not just to your wife, but to your family—to the life you’re building. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it."

Jey nodded slowly, taking in Roman’s words. There was a truth to what he said. Being on the road, being surrounded by fame, it messed with your head sometimes. It made things blurry. But the core of it all—the reason he pushed through the chaos—was his family.

"Family, Uce," Roman added, leaning in closer. "That’s what it’s all about. We got each other, and we’ve got to hold it down for them. The fame, the matches, the titles—they don’t mean a thing if we lose what really matters."

Jey swallowed hard, the guilt he had been holding onto squeezing his chest. "I hear you, Uce. I do."

Just then, Jey's phone buzzed. He glanced down and saw a text from Takecia.

Takecia: I’m taking the kids to visit Mom. We won’t be back when you get home.

Jey felt a pit form in his stomach. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone to her mother’s place, but the distance between them seemed to grow every time she did. He quickly typed out a response.

Jey: You watching the match tonight?

The reply came almost immediately.

Takecia: No point. I already know you’re going to win.

Her words felt cold, dismissive. There was no pride, no excitement. Just apathy. Jey stared at the screen for a moment, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness wash over him.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he closed the conversation and opened his messages with Hunter. After a few seconds of hesitation, he sent the message that would set the course for the night.

Jey: I’m in. Let’s go with the slow burn crush on Rhea.

He knew what to do. Tonight would be the beginning of something new. Maybe it was just a storyline, just business, but it was something he could control, unlike the chaos that seemed to surround everything else in his life.

As Jey looked up, Roman gave him a nod, sensing that whatever was weighing on his cousin was at least temporarily eased.

"Ready for tonight?" Roman asked.

Jey took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, Uce. I’m ready."

As he said the words, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything outside of the ring was getting more complicated by the second.

—

Jey stood under the hot water of the locker room shower, letting the steam rise around him as he scrubbed off the sweat and adrenaline from the night. The match had been intense, but it ended in victory—just like Takecia had predicted. Despite her lack of interest, the win felt good. It was another step toward the Main Event Jey Uso character that he was working so hard to perfect.

As the water hit his face, Jey’s mind wandered back to his earlier conversation with Joe and the decision he’d made with Hunter about the possible storyline with Rhea. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet, but there was no turning back now. It was business, and at least for tonight, everything had gone smoothly.

After a few more minutes, he turned off the shower, stepped out, and grabbed a towel. He dried off quickly, moving through the familiar motions of post-match cooldown. His muscles were still tense, but the adrenaline was starting to fade. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he padded over to his locker, where he pulled out his change of clothes.

As he was halfway through getting dressed, there was a knock on the locker room door.

Jey glanced over, a bit surprised. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

"Yo, come in," he called out.

The door opened, and to his surprise, it was Rhea Ripley standing there, dressed in her usual all-black gear, her hair slightly tousled from earlier in the night. Jey raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t had much interaction with her outside of the ring. It wasn’t that they avoided each other, but their paths hadn’t crossed too often beyond brief nods backstage or in-ring work.

"Hey," she said, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Just wanted to say, you were badass out there tonight."

Jey, still shirtless as he finished drying off, blinked in surprise. "Oh, thanks. You too. I saw some of your match—it was fire."

Rhea leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, looking relaxed. "Can’t wait to see where the storyline goes. If it all lines up, I think we’ll have a lot of fun working together."

Jey nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. The awkwardness of agreeing to the slow-burn storyline was still fresh, but her casual approach made it feel more manageable. He appreciated how laid-back she was. There was no pressure, just respect between two professionals.

"Yeah, same here," Jey said, pulling his shirt over his head. "Should be interesting."

Rhea chuckled, pushing off the doorframe. "For sure. Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to give you a shoutout. Catch you around, Jey."

With that, she gave him a quick nod and turned to leave.

"Thanks, Rhea," Jey called after her, still processing the interaction as the door closed behind her.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the door. It had been a quick conversation, but it left him thinking. This was only the beginning of what could be a pivotal point in his career. There was a certain energy to Rhea—something about her confidence and the way she carried herself. It was easy to see why Hunter was so keen on the idea of pairing their characters in some capacity.

But now, as he finished getting dressed, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all. His personal life was already a mess, and now, here he was, diving headfirst into a storyline that blurred the lines between character and reality.

Jey pulled on his sneakers, grabbed his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. He gave the locker room one last glance before heading out, his mind still racing.

—

February 21st 2024, 7:18 AM.

Rhea woke up with a pounding headache, the remnants of last night’s alcohol still coursing through her system. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim light filtering through the curtains, and as her vision cleared, she became fully aware of the weight of someone’s arm wrapped around her waist. Panic shot through her as the memories of the previous night came crashing down.

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t need to turn her head to know who it was. Jey Uso.

What the hell did I do? she thought, a wave of regret instantly washing over her. The room felt suddenly too small, the air too thick, as her mind raced to process what had happened. She shifted slightly, realizing she was completely naked beneath the sheets. Her breath hitched.

Carefully, she slid out from under Jey’s arm, her movements slow and deliberate to avoid waking him. Her hands trembled as she grabbed her clothes, scattered haphazardly around the room. Each article of clothing felt heavier than it should as she put it on, trying to piece together the blurry fragments of last night.

Not with Jey.

Her pulse quickened as she finally dressed, her body on autopilot. She glanced at the bed where Jey still slept, his face peaceful, unaware of the storm brewing inside her. Her heart clenched. He was her friend, her colleague—someone she’d never even considered in that way until last night. Now, everything felt like a colossal mistake.

Without thinking twice, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and quickly ordered an Uber. Her hands were still shaking, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she fumbled to leave the hotel room as quietly as possible.

She slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The hallway was eerily quiet as she stood there for a moment, trying to catch her breath. She leaned against the wall, her fingers tightening around her phone. The regret was like a vice, squeezing her chest tighter with every second.

How could I have let this happen? Rhea thought, her mind swirling with guilt and confusion. She’d never imagined herself crossing this line, especially not with someone like Jey. Sure, he was charming, and they’d gotten close over the months, but she never anticipated it leading to this.

The sound of her phone vibrating snapped her out of her thoughts. The Uber was arriving soon. She straightened up, pushing down the rising wave of nausea as she walked toward the hotel exit. With every step, she distanced herself from what had happened, but the regret clung to her like a shadow, relentless and suffocating.

As she stepped outside into the crisp morning air, Rhea tried to clear her head. But no matter how hard she tried, the guilt gnawed at her, a constant reminder that nothing would ever be the same after last night.

—

Rhea stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her freshly washed hair still damp as she attempted to apply her makeup. The steady sound of water dripping from the faucet was drowned out by the chaotic thoughts racing through her mind. She had hoped that a shower would wash away the remnants of last night, but instead, it only amplified her anxiety.

As she carefully brushed her eyeliner, her hand trembled slightly, a reflection of her inner turmoil. She caught her own gaze in the mirror, and the uncertainty stared back at her. She didn’t want to think about Jey, about what had happened, but the memory clung to her, relentless and haunting.

Just as she was about to reach for her foundation, her phone buzzed on the counter. She looked down, her heart racing at the sight of Jey's name lighting up the screen. Where did you go? the text read, simple and direct.

Rhea's stomach twisted. What do I even say? she thought, her mind racing with a mix of guilt and anxiety. She stared at the message, her fingers hovering over the screen, uncertain of how to respond. She didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to confront the reality of their night together.

After what felt like an eternity, another text came through. Would you like to just talk? Clear the air?

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy with implication. Rhea felt her breath hitch in her throat. Part of her wanted to agree, to face the situation head-on, but another part was terrified of what that conversation might entail. Would they discuss their feelings? The gravity of what happened?

With shaky hands, Rhea typed out a response, her heart pounding in her chest. I’m not sure, Jey. I need some time to think. She hesitated before hitting send, her finger hovering over the button. Finally, she pressed it, feeling a wave of relief mixed with dread wash over her.

She turned back to the mirror, trying to refocus on her makeup. The tension in her chest didn’t dissipate, though. Every stroke of her brush felt heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

A part of her hoped Jey would give her the space she needed, but another part yearned for clarity. She finished her makeup, feeling both accomplished and utterly lost, the uncertainty of their …. whatever it was… hanging like a cloud over her.

As she walked out of the bathroom, she couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever conversation awaited them, it would change everything. Rhea took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever was to come.

—

Later that night, after the PR events had concluded, Jey found himself caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. He had just tricked Damian Priest into revealing Rhea's room number at the Hilton by spinning a story about a forgotten watch. It felt a little deceitful, but the thrill of the chase propelled him forward. He had changed into a simple black tee and jeans, wanting to appear casual yet intentional. As he settled into the backseat of the Uber, he couldn't shake the memories of the night before.

Sleeping with Rhea had been unexpected, but as he reflected on it, Jey felt a sense of clarity. He didn't regret it—not even a little. Sure, he was still married, but things had changed between him and Takecia over the past year. She had grown more distant, wrapped up in her own world while Jey often felt like a ghost in their home. There was a disconnect that neither had addressed, and it had been gnawing at him for some time.

Jey knew starting something with Rhea was wrong. He was acutely aware of the consequences it could bring, but every time he thought of Rhea, he felt alive. She sparked something in him that had been dormant for far too long. He had been trapped in a routine that felt suffocating, and now, with Rhea, there was a chance to break free.

When Jey arrived at the Hilton, his heart raced with anticipation and nervousness. He approached Rhea's door and knocked gently. She opened it, her expression shifting from surprise to a mix of apprehension and curiosity. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

“What are you doing here, Jey?” Rhea asked, crossing her arms defensively.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I wanted to talk,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Rhea hesitated, glancing down the hallway as if contemplating whether to let him in. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” Jey pressed, his voice softening. “I just want to explain. Last night… it meant something to me.”

After a beat, Rhea sighed and stepped aside, allowing him to enter the room. Jey felt a rush of relief as he stepped past her, closing the door behind him. They sat on the edge of the bed, both avoiding eye contact, the silence thick with unspoken words.

Jey could feel the tension in the room, an electric charge that left him both exhilarated and anxious. They exchanged glances, only to look away, the weight of their actions hanging heavily in the air.

“Rhea…” he began, searching for the right words. “I know this is complicated, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help how I feel about you.”

Rhea looked at him, her expression a mixture of longing and fear. “Jey, we both know this isn’t something we can just brush aside. There are consequences.”

“I get that,” he replied, his voice urgent. “But it feels so real between us. It’s not just a mistake to me. It’s… something more.”

She bit her lip, clearly conflicted, and Jey could see the struggle in her eyes. He reached out, brushing his fingers against her hand, trying to bridge the distance that felt insurmountable. The connection between them pulsed with possibility, yet the weight of reality loomed just outside the door.

Rhea shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, pulling her hand away from Jey's touch as if it burned her. She stood up abruptly, creating distance between them as if she could physically push away the feelings churning inside her.

"Jey, no," she said, shaking her head. Her voice was firm but laced with the slightest hint of uncertainty. "This... this isn't real. Last night... it was a mistake. We were both drunk, and we weren't thinking straight. We can't-"

Jey stood up too, cutting the space between them but stopping short, respecting her distance. His eyes locked onto hers, intense, unwavering. "Don't do that, Rhea. Don't act like it meant nothing. You felt it too, I know you did."

Rhea crossed her arms tightly across her chest, as if shielding herself from his words.

She looked away, the tension in the room almost suffocating. "It was a moment of weakness," she muttered, trying to convince herself more than him. "It doesn't mean anything. You have a wife. I have my fiancé. We have our lives, our careers-this isn't supposed to happen."

Jey's heart clenched at the mention of her fiancé, but he didn't let it show. He took another step closer, his presence overwhelming but not intimidating. There was something raw in his voice when he spoke again, his emotions barely contained. "You're lying to yourself. You don't regret last night. You're scared. I get it. But don't pretend like it didn't happen, like it didn't matter."

Rhea scoffed, but it was weak. Her resolve was crumbling, and she could feel it. "Jey, stop. It was one night. One mistake. We move on from it. We-"

Jey interrupted her, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Damn it, Rhea! I can't just move on. I can't stop thinking about you, about what we did. You're in my head and it's driving me crazy because I don't want to stop feeling this."

Rhea's breath hitched, and she took a step back, her denial faltering under the weight of his words. She could feel the walls she had built around herself cracking, and it scared her.

She didn't want to admit that she felt the same, that she hadn't been able to get him out of her mind since that night. But she was losing control of the situation, and Jey's intensity was only making it harder for her to keep up the facade she was putting up.

"This isn't... Jey, please. Just leave it alone," Rhea whispered, her voice cracking slightly, betraying the emotion she was trying so hard to suppress. She turned her back to him, as if doing so would make everything go away.

But Jey wasn't about to let her hide. His eyes darkened with determination, and in a swift motion, he closed the distance between them.

Before Rhea could protest, before she could deny her feelings for even a second longer, Jey grabbed her by the wrist and gently spun her around.

"Stop running from this," he growled, his voice low and rough. "Stop running from me."

Before she could utter another word of denial, Jey crashed his lips against hers, shutting her up in the most definitive way possible. It wasn't a soft, hesitant kiss. It was desperate, fierce, and full of everything they had both been trying to suppress. Rhea's eyes widened in shock, but her body betrayed her.

Her arms, which had been crossed in defense, fell limply to her sides, and before she knew it, she was kissing him back just as fiercely, giving in to everything she had been fighting.

Jey's hands cupped her face, pulling her closer, as if he needed to prove to her-to both of them-that this was real. That this wasn't just some mistake to be forgotten. Her resistance melted away with every second, and she found herself tangling her fingers in his shirt, pulling him closer, despite the warnings in her head.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch up with what had just happened. The silence between them was deafening, yet it said more than any words could.

"I told you," Jey whispered, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. "This isn't just some mistake. It's something more."

Rhea's chest rose and fell rapidly, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn't know what to say. Part of her still wanted to deny it, to push him away and pretend like this never happened. But the other part-the part that was winning— knew he was right. Knew that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't run from this anymore.

Rhea stepped back as soon as their lips parted, her mind spinning. She was still breathing heavily, but the moment of passion had passed, replaced by the familiar panic she had been battling all day. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, as if that would erase the kiss, erase the connection.

“Jey, stop,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to gather herself. She crossed her arms again, this time to create a physical barrier between them. “This can’t happen. It shouldn’t have happened. We—”

But Jey wasn’t having it. His eyes were locked onto her, fierce and unrelenting. “You’re seriously gonna pretend like you didn’t want that?” he asked, his voice hard with frustration. “Like you weren’t all in on this from the start?”

Rhea narrowed her eyes, the tension rising between them. “I did it for my career, Jey. That’s what this was about, right? The slow burn, the storyline—it’s part of the business. I was just playing along.”

Jey let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Bullshit, Rhea. You think I don’t know when someone’s faking it? I came to you with this slow burn idea, and you were down. Don’t act like you didn’t feel it, like it was just business.”

“I am engaged, Jey!” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. “What do you expect me to say? That I enjoyed it? That I want to risk everything for something that shouldn’t have happened?”

Jey took a step closer, closing the gap between them again. His voice softened, but his intensity didn’t waver. “I’m not asking you to risk anything, Rhea. I’m telling you that last night wasn’t just some mistake. It was real. And you know it.”

She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes, but he didn’t stop. “You can keep saying it was all for your career, but I know better. I saw the way you looked at me. I felt it when you kissed me back. This isn’t just some storyline for you. It’s not just about your career. It’s about us.”

Rhea clenched her fists, anger and confusion swirling inside her. “There is no ‘us,’ Jey!” she shot back, her voice breaking. “I’m with Matt. I’m engaged. I’m supposed to be getting married. This—” she gestured between them, “—this can’t happen again.”

Jey’s jaw clenched, his frustration boiling over. “Why are you fighting this so hard, Rhea? You think Matt’s the only one who matters? You’re really gonna stand there and act like last night meant nothing to you?”

Rhea’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to stay firm. “I love Matt, Jey. I’m going to marry him. Whatever happened last night, whatever this is—it’s not real. It’s just…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words to make herself believe it.

But Jey wasn’t about to let her off the hook. He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost desperate tone. “Being with you last night was the best thing I’ve ever done, Rhea. I don’t care how wrong it feels or how complicated it makes things. I want you. I want this. And I want to keep doing it again. And again.”

Rhea’s breath caught in her throat. His words hit her like a tidal wave, breaking down the walls she had been desperately trying to keep up. But she shook her head again, more out of habit than conviction.

“I… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m with Matt. This was a mistake. I can’t betray him like this.”

Jey’s expression softened, but his determination didn’t fade. “Rhea, you’re lying to yourself. You’re trying to force yourself to believe that what you have with Matt is what you want. But it’s not, is it? You wouldn’t be standing here with me if it was.”

Rhea’s heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt like she was on the verge of breaking down. She knew Jey was right, but she couldn’t let herself admit it. She couldn’t let herself believe that she could ruin everything she had built with Matt, with her career.

But Jey wasn’t giving her any room to hide. “You’re scared,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers. “You’re scared to admit that last night meant something. That we mean something.”

Rhea clenched her fists, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I’m not scared,” she whispered, her voice weak, trembling.

Jey reached out, gently taking her hands in his. His touch was warm, grounding her, but it also sent a spark of something electric through her. “Then stop running,” he said softly. “Stop pretending like you don’t want this.”

She stared at him, her defenses crumbling, the denial slipping through her fingers like sand. But even now, even with everything she felt for him, she couldn’t shake the weight of her engagement to Matt, the guilt, the betrayal.

“I… I can’t do this to him,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I can’t hurt him like this.”

Jey didn’t let go of her hands. “Then tell me this,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “If you’re so sure about Matt, why are you standing here with me? Why did last night happen?”

Rhea’s lips trembled, but she had no answer. Because deep down, she knew the truth. She knew that whatever was between her and Jey wasn’t just physical—it was something more. Something real. Something she wasn’t ready to face. But Jey was right. She couldn’t keep running from it forever.

The tension in the room grew thick, suffocating as Rhea pulled her hands back from Jey’s grasp, shaking her head furiously. Her breaths were coming out sharp and uneven, the panic rising in her chest. Jey, however, wasn’t backing down. His eyes, dark with frustration and something deeper—something raw—were locked onto hers, refusing to let her retreat into her wall of denial.

“Jey, stop it,” she snapped, voice trembling. “You’re just saying this because things are rough with Takecia. This…this isn’t real. It was just a one-night thing, a mistake. You’re married. I’m engaged. We can’t—”

But Jey cut her off, his voice rough with emotion. “A mistake? You think this was just some fucking mistake?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried a weight that made Rhea’s heart pound in her chest. “Rhea, I haven’t been intimate with Takecia in months,” he confessed, his voice quieter now, the vulnerability in his words catching her off guard. “I don’t even remember the last time we were close. Hell, I don’t even remember the last time I wanted to be close with her.”

Rhea blinked, the shock of his confession knocking the wind out of her. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it stayed there, choking her. “That’s not my problem, Jey,” she muttered, but even to her own ears, her words sounded weak.

Jey ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t tried to fix it? But it’s not about her. It’s about you. Being with you last night didn’t feel wrong, Rhea. It didn’t feel like some mistake I made because things with my wife are falling apart. It felt…right. Like I was supposed to be there with you from the start.”

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat, the depth of his confession hitting her like a freight train. She stumbled back, shaking her head as if that could somehow undo what he was saying. “No,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.”

But Jey didn’t waver. He stepped closer, his eyes burning with intensity, his voice low and fervent. “I mean it, Rhea. I’ve been feeling dead inside for months—maybe longer. I didn’t even realize how empty I felt until last night. Until you. You made me feel alive again. Like I wasn’t just going through the motions, pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

Rhea’s breath hitched, and she took another step back, as if trying to put distance between them would somehow erase the truth of his words. “Jey, stop,” she begged, her voice shaky, desperate. “We can’t…we can’t do this. I’m engaged to Matt. We’re getting married.”

Jey’s expression darkened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “Matt,” he spat, his tone laced with bitterness. “You keep bringing him up like he’s the reason we shouldn’t be doing this. But if you were really happy with him, Rhea, you wouldn’t have ended up in my bed last night. You wouldn’t be standing here, looking at me the way you are.”

Rhea felt her stomach twist, a wave of guilt and shame crashing over her. “I’m not looking at you,” she protested weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. But she knew it was a lie. She was looking at him. She had been looking at him differently for a bit.

Jey took another step closer, and this time, Rhea didn’t back away. “Stop lying to yourself, Rhea,” he said softly, his voice filled with an almost painful sincerity. “You keep saying you’re doing this for your career, for Matt, for whatever reason you can come up with. But what about you? What do you want?”

Rhea’s lips trembled, and she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. “I want things to go back to normal,” she whispered, though she knew even as she said it that it was impossible. Nothing would be normal after this. After last night.

Jey shook his head, his voice soft but firm. “There is no going back. We both know that. Honestly, I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to pretend like last night didn’t happen, like I didn’t feel something real for the first time in a long damn time.”

Rhea’s heart pounded in her chest, the emotions swirling inside her, threatening to tear her apart. She wanted to scream, to run, to do anything to get away from this, from him. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

“I’m supposed to marry him,” she whispered again, as if repeating it would somehow make it true, make it easier to hold onto.

Jey’s expression softened, and he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. His touch was warm, grounding, and it made her heart ache. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Rhea,” he said quietly. “But don’t lie to yourself about what you’re feeling. Don’t lie to me.”

Rhea stared into his eyes, her resolve crumbling. She wanted to keep denying it, to keep pretending that last night was a mistake, that it didn’t mean anything. But she couldn’t. Not when Jey was standing in front of her, baring his soul, telling her things she had been too afraid to admit to herself.

“I…I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she finally confessed, her voice breaking. “I don’t know if this is real or if it’s just because everything is so messed up right now.”

Jey’s thumb brushed gently across her cheek, wiping away a tear she didn’t realize had fallen. “It’s real, Rhea,” he said softly. “You know it is.”

Rhea’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she allowed herself to believe him. Allowed herself to feel the connection between them, the pull that had been building for months. But the guilt, the fear, the reality of her engagement to Matt was still there, looming over her like a dark cloud.

“I can’t do this, Jey,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t hurt Matt like this.”

Jey’s expression darkened for a moment, but then he nodded, stepping back, giving her the space she so desperately needed. “I get it,” he said quietly, though the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “But just…don’t run from this. Don’t run from what we could have. You can’t keep denying it forever.”

Rhea’s heart ached, the weight of everything crashing down on her. She wanted to scream, to tell him he was wrong, that there was nothing between them.

Rhea stood in front of Jey, her chest heaving with frustration and denial. Her mind raced, and her heart pounded as they continued to argue, the tension between them reaching a breaking point. Jey’s words echoed in her ears, striking at the core of everything she was trying so hard to ignore.

He looked at her, eyes intense and searching, trying to break through the wall she had put up. “Rhea, stop acting like this didn’t mean something,” Jey said, his voice low and earnest. “We wouldn’t have done this if we didn’t feel something. I know I did. Hell, being with you didn’t feel wrong. It felt right, like it was supposed to happen.”

Rhea shook her head, trying to convince herself more than him. “No, Jey, it was a mistake. We were drunk, and I’m engaged. You’re married. It should never have happened.” Her voice wavered despite her attempt to sound firm, and she hated that he could see her breaking down.

Jey stepped closer, not letting her retreat into her denial. “You keep saying that, but I don’t believe you. I know you felt it too.” He hesitated, his voice softening, more vulnerable than before.

Rhea’s breathing quickened, her hands trembling as she tried to keep her emotions in check. “I’m engaged, Jey,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I love Matt. I can’t—”

“Then why are you still here?” Jey interrupted, his eyes locking with hers. “Why haven’t you walked away? You could’ve shut me out the second I knocked on that door, but you didn’t. You let me in. You let us talk, and you’re still here, fighting it. Just repeating it. The same old song and dance.”

Rhea opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, guilt, and desire, and she couldn’t find the words to deny what he was saying.

Jey moved even closer, his voice now a whisper. “I know it’s complicated, but it doesn’t change what’s real.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “I need you..”

Rhea’s defenses crumbled as she felt the truth in his words. Every rational thought in her head told her to push him away, to end this before it went any further. But the pull between them was too strong, too overwhelming. She couldn’t deny what had happened, couldn’t deny what she felt when she was with him.

Before she could say anything more, Jey closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. And then, without warning, he kissed her once more…

The kiss was passionate, raw, and filled with everything they had been holding back. Rhea’s heart raced as she kissed him back, her hands gripping his shoulders for support as the last of her resistance faded away. She didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t care.

They were in too deep, the consequences of their actions looming over them, but in that moment, none of it mattered. Not Matt, not Takecia, not their complicated lives.

They were doing this because it felt right, even though everything about it should have felt wrong. But neither of them cared. Not anymore.

—

April 6th, 2024 1:19 PM. Wrestlemania Night One.

Rhea’s phone buzzed, the message from Jey simple but urgent: Come quick. WrestleMania weekend was chaos incarnate, but this message made her pulse race for an entirely different reason. Slipping away from Damian and Dominik was easy enough, as the building swarmed with superstars, managers, and crew members, all busy preparing for the night ahead.

She weaved her way through the halls, keeping her head down as she passed colleagues, always careful to avoid eye contact. Every glance over her shoulder heightened the tension in her chest. It felt like everyone could see right through her, even though she knew no one was paying her any attention.

When she finally reached Jey’s locker room door, she knocked in their secret rhythm, the one that always made him smile. The door opened swiftly, and before she could say a word, Jey pulled her in, closing the door behind her in one smooth motion. His lips found hers in a kiss that was both urgent and reassuring, a silent affirmation of what they were about to do.

Jey pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "You scared to go first?" he asked, his voice low but teasing.

“No. I’m excited!” She said.

Jey chuckled softly, but his gaze was serious, searching her face for any hesitation. He had felt it, too—the pressure of the night, the weight of WrestleMania, but also this, them.

Rhea felt her heart race as she stood there, the gravity of their situation pressing down on her. What they were doing—sneaking around like this—was reckless, but there was a thrill in it she couldn’t deny. It was like the rush before a match, the anticipation before the crowd roared to life. Except this was different. This was personal.

“I had to see you before everything starts,” Jey said, his voice quieter now. “Just us, you know?”

Rhea nodded, understanding him without needing an explanation. It wasn’t just about the matches tonight. This, right here, was what made her feel alive in a way nothing else did. No amount of titles or victories could replicate the pull she felt when she was with him.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing his jawline softly. “We’ll kill it out there.”

Jey leaned into her touch, his grin turning into something more serious, more vulnerable. “We always do,” he said.

For a moment, they just stood there, the world outside that door fading away. WrestleMania was the biggest stage of their careers, but this—what they had, even if it was complicated and messy—was real. It was the one thing that kept pulling them back to each other, no matter how hard they tried to fight it.

As they stood together, the air thick with unspoken tension, Jey suddenly shifted his tone, his expression turning serious. “Rhea, you shouldn’t marry Matt,” he said, his voice low and firm.

Rhea’s eyes widened, caught off guard by his bluntness. “What do you mean?” she asked, her heart racing at the sudden weight of his words.

“I mean it,” Jey pressed. “You know it’s not right. You deserve better than what he’s giving you.”

Rhea scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought we were just friends with benefits, Jey. What does it matter to you?”

“It matters because I care about you,” he replied, frustration creeping into his tone. “I want to be with you, but I can’t just leave Takecia right now. It’s complicated but in a few years yeah...”

“Complicated?” Rhea echoed, her voice and accent rising slightly. “You think it’s not complicated for me? You want me to just throw away my entire life because you’re in a tough spot? You’re talking about leaving your wife in a few years! What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Rhea, I’m not saying it’s easy for either of us,” Jey argued, stepping closer, his gaze searching hers. “I just... I don’t feel comfortable with this situation anymore. You’re engaged, and I’m still technically married. I just feel better if you were single..”

Rhea folded her arms, a mixture of anger and hurt bubbling beneath the surface. “So, it’s okay for you to be with me while I’m engaged, but it’s not okay for me to call you out on your double standards?”

Jey opened his mouth to respond, but instead, he leaned in and kissed her forehead softly. “Just think about it,” he murmured, the warmth of his lips lingering on her skin.

Rhea felt her resolve waver as she looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. He wanted her, that much was clear, but it felt wrong to her, too. She was standing at a crossroads, and it scared her.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her back to reality. She pulled it out and saw a text from Damian asking where she was. Without saying anything, Rhea looked back at Jey, her mind racing with confusion and uncertainty.

“I... I have to go,” she finally said, her voice barely being registered.

Jey nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and frustration. “Okay,” he replied, though the weight of unspoken words hung heavily between them.

Rhea turned and left his locker room, her heart pounding in her chest. She walked through the bustling halls, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The thrill of their connection, the weight of their choices, and the impending consequences all swirled in her mind as she made her way back to Damian and Dominik, feeling the gravity of what lay ahead.

—

On April 15th, 2024, the atmosphere in the locker room felt suffocating as Rhea stood there, packing up her clothes after vacating her women’s title. Ever since Jey had expressed his feelings about her marriage to Matt, she had been avoiding him, unsure of how to process the weight of his words. As she rummaged through her bag, her phone buzzed incessantly with Jey’s messages, each one feeling like a reminder of the complicated situation they were in.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Jey stepped in, locking it behind him with an air of urgency. His expression was a mix of determination and desperation. “We need to talk,” he said firmly, crossing the room to where Rhea stood.

Before she could respond, Jey continued, his voice intense. “I’m giving you an ultimatum. Either you don’t marry Matt and wait for me to come to my senses, or I’m done with this—done with us.”

Rhea’s heart raced as she processed his words. The weight of the decision hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, they just stood there, locked in a tense silence, both unwilling to break the moment.

Finally, Rhea found her voice, though it felt shaky. “I choose Matt,” she said, her words hanging in the air like a final verdict.

Without waiting for Jey’s response, she turned and left the locker room, the door closing behind her with a heavy thud.

Once the door was shut, Jey's composure shattered. Rage bubbled up within him as he approached the nearest locker. He began punching it with force, each blow sending pain through his knuckles as they began to bleed. The physical pain was a distraction, a way to vent the hurt and anger swirling inside him. But even as he struck the metal, another, darker thought crept into his mind.

What if Rhea came back from her shoulder injury, asking if they could start again? The idea felt like a betrayal to what he wanted, but in his fury, he convinced himself that he would treat her like a fling, as if her choice to prioritize Matt had branded her unworthy of anything more.

Jey slumped against the locker, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he contemplated the mess that had become of their lives. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but the thought of Rhea moving on with Matt ignited something within him—a mixture of anger and heartbreak that he couldn't shake off.

#fanfic #fanfiction #jey uso #rhea and jey #rhea ripley #wwe #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #the judgement day #yeet

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