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stellamarielu · 2 months ago

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breaking the rules

declan o’hara x female reader

summary: declan can’t stop thinking about his daughter’s best friend, and it doesn’t help when he overhears her talking about how she’s never been satisfied in the bedroom

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, kinda pervy!declan, mentions of male masturbation, talks of female orgasms, just lots of yearning temptation and dirty scenarios, no actual sex happening here but still smutty

author’s note: writing best friend’s dad!declan is always calling my name and i’m just a girl with a dilf obsession! also this takes place after maud leaves and our man is lonely and in need of some attention

“Oh come on Taggie I’ve been waiting for weeks!” You were trying to keep your voice down but couldn’t help the way it came out in a hushed yell.

You and your best friend were sharing a throw blanket on her living room couch, sitting side by side under the warmth of the crocheted material. The television was on, the quiet hum and bright colors filled the old room of the priory but neither of you were paying any attention to it. The cheesy rom-com playing out on the tv made for the perfect background noise to your giggles and gossip. You’d been going for hours, talking about everything under the sun like two teenage girls at a slumber party. It was nearly 1 in the morning, and you were still going strong, the current topic up for discussion was her rather scandalous relationship with Rupert Campbell-Black.

That’s when Declan had finally had enough of the noise coming from downstairs. He hadn’t slept more than an hour before he was woken up by the sound of his daughter and her best friend cackling. He tried ignoring it- even placing a pillow over his head to drown out the laughter, but here he was 55 minutes later and still not sleeping. So, he drug himself out of bed and threw on an old pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt as he began his descent down the stairs to put an end to your fun. Only, he was stopped just one step shy of the living room doorway when he heard his friends name.

“Is Rupert good in bed?”

He immediately recognized the voice as yours, familiar with the cheery tone that’s constantly filling the walls of his home.

“I mean he must be right? Compared to Ralphie?”

Declan didn’t like where this conversation was going. The less he knew about his daughter’s relations the better. While the topic was making him increasingly uncomfortable, he couldn’t hide his desire to know if Rupert had gone behind his back and touched her. He’s debating turning around and going back upstairs when he hears Taggie’s soft plea.

“Oh my God keep your voice down!”

She’s much quieter than you, her words merely a whisper.

“We’ve literally just kissed the one time.”

Declan feels a massive weight lifting off his shoulders as Taggie speaks. A kiss was still infuriating and worth interrogating Rupert over, but he couldn’t have handled hearing anything more than that.

“Tag. That was like two weeks ago.”

There’s your voice again. You’re trying to keep your volume down, but you’re still far louder than his daughter.

“You’re telling me nothing else has happened? God Tag, I wouldn’t be able to keep it in my pants if I were you.”

Taggie was laughing at your comment. Her giggle reminding Declan of the reason he was currently hiding outside his own living room. He was there to tell the two of you to keep the noise down, but had somehow found himself eavesdropping instead. The sudden guilt he felt as he listened to the gossip that wasn’t meant for his ears settled in and he turned on his heels to sneak back up the stairs. He was taking his first step away from your conversation when his ears began to burn at the words whispered from your lips.

“I mean he’s attractive, his body is insane, and he would literally do anything for you. Even the way he looks at you is hot. If I were you, I’d be on that in like half a second.”

“I’d be on that.” The words ring in Declan’s ears and he can’t help but picture you on top of him- straddling his waist. God he was sick, he had to stop thinking about you like that. You were Taggie’s best friend for Christ sake.

Lately every time you were around- which was nearly all the time, Declan could hardly look you in the eye. He was ashamed of his little crush on you, but as much as he tried to push it away, it always found him late at night when he was alone in bed. There was so much about you that drew him in; your witty humor, your confidence, your endearing smile, your ass when you wore that one pair of jeans he liked so much. He just couldn’t get you off his mind. Now you were sitting in his living room talking about how much you wanted to mount Rupert Campbell-Black.

“I bet he is good in bed.”

You’re speculating and he can hear Taggie giggling and telling you to shut up. He knows for a fact her face is red in embarrassment.

“I mean there’s no way he’s bad. Not with all that experience.”

You’re ignoring Taggie’s protests as you continue theorizing about Declan’s best friend’s sex life.

“He probably knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Declan can hear a rustling noise and assumes Taggie must’ve hit you with a throw pillow.

“Maybe I need to find an experienced older man of my own. I swear all these guys our age don’t know what the fuck they’re doing, I’m tired of faking orgasms.”

You were giggling but Declan could hear a hint of defeat in your words, his dick stirring in his sweats at hearing the word orgasm come out of your mouth.

“They can’t all be that bad, what about the guy from last weekend? He seemed sweet.” Taggie chimed in, causing him to come back to reality.

Last weekend? Come to think of it Declan couldn’t recall seeing you at their house like he did most Saturday nights. He remembered Taggie coming home late and mentioning the two of you had spent a few hours at bar sinister over a bottle of chardonnay, but you were nowhere to be seen.

“Yeah, sweet doesn’t account for bedroom prowess.” You were correcting your friend’s innocent remark.

“So it wasn’t good then?”

“It was fine.” You sounded rather underwhelmed as you recounted your one-night stand.

“I think I’ve just given up hope that a man can get me off.” The dissapointment in your voice was undeniable as you whispered.

“Maybe I’m just broken.” You forced a laugh attempting to bring humor back into the mix.

Declan couldn’t deny the anger he felt as you divulged your issue aloud sitting on his living room couch. Those pricks don’t deserve you. They don’t deserve to have you in their beds, getting their dicks wet at the expense of your dissatisfaction.

“That’s why you need to speed things up with Rupert and tell me all about your adventures in the bedroom so I can live vicariously through you.”

God he couldn’t bear to hear Rupert’s name in the context of his daughter’s sex life one more time. In fact, he couldn’t bear to listen to anything else regarding either one of your sex lives.

He already knew he would be worked up for weeks just thinking about the fact that you were waiting around for someone to fuck you properly.

It was going to torture him now– watching you waltzing in his front door with all that pent up frustration and knowing he could relieve you of the pressure with just the touch of his fingers. He already thought about making you come. He thought about it at least once a week with his hand wrapped around his dick. Envisioning you underneath him, chest heaving and eyes rolling back into your head with your pretty lips all pouted. He would bring himself to completion just from the mere idea of what you sounded like when you came undone. It was truly sick the way he would pump his cock until it was spilling over his fist, imagining such twisted fantasies starring his daughter’s best friend.

He had to excuse himself from the hallway before he heard anything else that would fuel his forbidden desire. Taking a small step backwards toward the stairs, the weight of Declan’s foot caused the old wood floors to creak. He paused his movement, cursing himself for making a noise that could blow his cover.

The halt of whispers and giggles coming from the living room let declan know you girls had heard the squeak from the doorway.

He tried his best to float into the room, making it look as if he had just walked down the stairs.

“Oh god sorry. Were we being loud?”

Taggie looked absolutely mortified to see her father standing before them given the last few minutes of conversation.

“It’s alright, just came down to grab some water.” He lied.

“didn’t realize you girls were in here.” Another lie.

He wanted to remain as nonchalant as possible. After overhearing all the sex talk, it was best for him not to mention you were so loud that he couldn’t sleep. The last thing he wanted was to make Taggie uncomfortable, or worse- her try to convince him that Rupert wasn’t a first-class rake at one in the morning.

“We were just gonna go to bed.” Taggie’s cheeks were pink, and her voice was quiet.

Declan let his eyes wander over to you, just for one second– no half a second. But it was enough time for him to see the oversized t-shirt that was hanging off your shoulder exposing the curve of your neck. Unlike Taggie’s embarrassed demeanor you looked much more relaxed, maybe even a little relieved to see the man awake and shirtless in the doorway. He even caught the beginning of a smirk slipping onto your lips when he averted his gaze back to his daughter.

“all good, just make sure you turn off the tv.” He was motioning to the romcom that neither of you had watched a single minute of that was now nearing it’s end. He raised his hand in a small wave as he continued to the kitchen, not letting his daughter get another word in.

He was quick getting a glass and filling it with tap water, even taking a swig and attempting to allow the cool liquid to refresh his mind from the filthy thoughts of you still swimming in his brain. Only, it didn’t help much seeing as though he caught another glimpse of you on his way back to the stairs. You and Taggie had now given up on gossiping after nearly getting caught, and settled on watching the last bit of your movie in silence. You were snuggled into the side of the couch, your head resting against one hand playing with your hair and the other toying with the collar of your shirt that was hanging so low that it let declan get a good look at the top of your chest. There was absolutely no reason for him to find you so irresistible while doing nothing out of the ordinary, but he still found his heart racing in his chest at the sight of you.

He had to force his feet up the stairs to get him away before you had a more depraved effect on him, something other than just a quickening pulse.

After getting back to his bedroom, declan tried everything to get you off his mind. He tossed and turned under his covers, chugged the rest of his water, smoked a cigarette down to the filter, read a few chapters of the book on his bedside table, but none of it stopped the images of you playing in his head- images of you in his bed, back arched while he knelt between your legs.

He was lying awake and staring at the ceiling, the only thing occupying his mind were the filthy visions of you. He was starting to think he would never sleep again and It didn’t help that the tv was still playing in the living room. The hum of some old sitcom carrying all the way upstairs making it impossible for Declan to drift off. It had been at least an hour since his little adventure downstairs and he was beginning to think the two of you would never go to sleep.

finally having had enough of the noise, he stood up out of bed on a mission to tell you to go to bed and finally get to the end of this sleepless night. He was walking straight down the dark hallway but stopped abruptly at the stairs.

You were walking up as he was walking down- the two of you bumping into one another. His hands instinctively reaching out to hold your arms, steadying you in front of him.

“Oh fuck- sorry.” The profanity slips out of your mouth at the shock of running into Declan’s hard, shirtless chest.

He can’t help but chuckle at the curse, he doesn’t think he’s ever heard you say the word fuck. Something about it turns him on– God dammit he needs to get a grip.

“I was just comin’ to tell you girls to get some sleep.” His voice is raspy and his hold on your arms is soft.

“Tag fell asleep, and I couldn’t get comfy on the little sliver of couch she left me.” You were whispering and declan could barely see you in the dark but he could hear the smile in your voice.

“I was just gonna crash in her room.” You motion to the first door at the top of the stairs that belonged to Taggie, just a few feet away from Declan’s.

“Yeah of course.” He dropped his grip on you and took a small step to the side allowing you to walk past him.

Your hand reaches for the doorknob of Taggie’s bedroom, but you stop.

“Sorry if we kept you up.”

You look over to declan who was still standing at the stairs. He’s brushing off your apology with a wave of his hand.

“You know me and my big mouth- I have a hard time keeping quiet.”

Declan has to keep his hands from clenching into fists at your words. a hard time keeping quiet God he wished he could test that out for himself. See if you could keep quiet while he fucked you nice and hard, holding your mouth shut to keep the moans from spilling out.

“How much of our conversation did you hear earlier, you know when you came down for water?” thankfully your voice pulled Declan from the obscene image of you currently playing in his head.

For some reason he didn’t feel the need to lie to you.

“Enough to know my daughter is kissing Rupert Campbell-Black.” His response is point-blank.

You let out a deep sigh. Now thanks to you and your inability to keep your voice down, Taggie’s relationship with Rupert was probably ruined.

“Are you mad at her?”

“Not so much her as him.” He sounds disappointed as his whisper carries across the hall.

“He’s a real piece of shit you know?” He makes sure to keep his voice low so the sleeping girl downstairs has no chance at hearing his words.

“I thought he was your best friend.”

You know he probably can’t see it, but you raise an eyebrow in question as you try to understand why Declan would say such a thing about someone so close to him.

“He is, which is how I know his intentions with women are never innocent.”

You went quiet.

Declan didn’t want to talk about Rupert- not right now. It was the middle of the night. He could not be faced with the moral dilemma of watching his daughter pine after his best-friend. Not while he was already faced with the equally moral issue of his daughter’s best friend being the reason he hadn’t slept all night.

And just like that, he was thinking about you again. Thinking about how your t-shirt covered your tiny little pajama shorts– so much so that they were hidden completely.

“As much as you may think older, more experienced men are better than the sleazy guys your own age, I can assure you they’re not.”

You freeze at his words. Is he referring to your earlier conversation with his daughter? The one where you were talking about guys your age “not knowing what the fuck they’re doing”. Had he heard you talking about your recent habit of faking orgasms? You almost bring your hands up to hide your face in embarrassment.

“Not men like Rupert anyway.”

Or him he thinks as declan reminds himself of his reoccurring unsavory thoughts about the younger woman standing just a few feet away.

“Right, well I’ll let tag know he’s an asshole then.” You’re speaking quickly hoping to put an end to the conversation so you can run into taggies room and escape the humiliation illuminating the hallway.

“Sorry to hear about the bloke from last weekend.” Declan’s changing the subject, keeping you from leaving.

“I hate that a clever girl like yourself is wasting so much time on foolish little boys.”

He’s taking casual steps toward you as he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Declan has no idea what he’s doing. All he knows is he doesn’t want you to open that door. He doesn’t want you to leave him standing alone in the hallway thinking about everything he wanted to do to you, wishing he could touch you– kiss you.

“Yeah well, it’s that or nothing.” You’re joking, trying to remain friendly. You can’t figure out the reason Declan is bringing up this part of you and Taggie’s exchange.

“not nothing.”

He’s close to you now, just an arm’s length away and his voice is enticing.

“I’m sure there are lots of men out there who would bend over backwards to treat you the way you deserve to be treated- to give you the things you need.”

Your jaw drops slightly at his words. he definitely heard you talking about your inability to orgasm with your recent hook-ups and now he’s directly referring to it.

You had somehow found yourself standing a foot away from your best friends dad at 2 in the morning and the sexual tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. His bare chest just within reach of your fingertips; you could feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the mint of his toothpaste on his breath. It all felt so wrong, like you were breaking the rules.

“Well you’ll have to let me know where they’re hiding. I’ve yet to find one who knows how to treat me the way I deserve to be treated.”

You put an emphasis on the phrase he used, treat you the way you deserve to be treated aka- actually able to make you come.

He looks taken aback by your confession.

“not one?”

You’re shaking your head in response to his curiosity.

“you’ve never been with a man who’s made you come?” he’s clarifying his question, and he sounds genuinely stunned.

“Correct.” Your voice is soft as you reply and a beat of silence passes between the two of you.

“I don’t even know how we started talking about this. I should go to bed, goodnight Mr. O’Hara.”

You’re whispering quickly, flustered knowing that Declan is now privy to your shameful sex life. You’re confused why he brought it up, and you’re even more confused by his sudden flirtatious demeanor. You must be reading the situation wrong because there’s no way Declan O’Hara wants you in that way–right? It’s Taggie’s dad. Taggie’s hot dad. Shit- you need to go to bed. Maybe a few hours of sleep will help wipe this whole conversation from your memory.

Taggie’s bedroom door is creaking open as you turn the knob, but before you can take a step inside Declan’s hand is reaching for your arm. It was the second time tonight you felt his gentle touch on your bicep, and it made your face feel hot.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” His words are kind and sincere.

“You shouldn’t even be embarrassed.” His voice is just so gentle.

You turn to face him and realize how close you are, just inches away from his face.

“Those fuckin’ idiots who don’t know how to touch you properly should be embarrassed.”

it’s dark but you can make out the expression on his face– it’s serious, his eyes intently watching you.

it’s silent for a moment, both of you staring at each other in the dark. his hold on your arm loosens and he lets his hand lightly trace the length of your arm.

“You’re a beautiful girl you know.” His voice is light and airy as his fingertips tickle your skin.

“I don’t think those boys could even handle being with a woman like you.”

His touch is getting lower and lower on your arm.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe you do need to find yourself an older man.”

his hand finds the hem of your t-shirt nearly brushing the skin of your exposed thigh.

“Declan.”

You can’t tell if you’re murmuring his name as a warning or a plea, but the way you’re almost whining has you thinking it must be the latter option.

“Not Mr. O’Hara?” There’s a smile in his words.

His fingertips come in contact with your upper thigh and your breath hitches. You think about telling him to stop, reminding him how angry Taggie would be about this, but you don’t. You don’t say a single word. Instead you let out a sigh of relief desperately hoping he keeps touching you.

“Do you want me to touch you like this.”

You’re silently nodding, giving him permission to do whatever he wants to you. It feels so corrupt having his fingertips dancing at the hem of your pajama shorts, but you can’t think of anything you wanted more than to have his hand between your legs.

“Use your words love.”

Declan’s urging you to verbally consent, partially because he wants you to be sure and another part because he needs the satisfaction of hearing you beg for him.

“Yes.”

Your back is arching causing your body to push into him. He never could’ve imagined you’d feel so delicate against him. Your body was so warm, so gentle, so pleasant, so new.

“I want it, please Declan.” You’d never called him by his first name before tonight, always Mr. O’Hara.

The sound of you whimpering his name has Declan eager to hear what it would sound like to have you screaming it. He’s starting to pull the barely-there material of your shorts to the side when a distant sound has you both frozen.

It’s the unmistakable creak of someone walking up the stairs, wood squeaking underneath footsteps. In an unspoken agreement you’re both turning opposite directions and quietly turning doorknobs. He’s sneaking back into his bedroom and you’re tiptoeing into Taggie’s.

Your light feet carry you to Taggie’s bed and you’re jumping into the sheets making yourself look cozy. Her steps are heavy and her eyes are barely open as Taggie comes walking into her bedroom not long after you.

“Remind me to never fall asleep on that couch again.” She’s yawning as she crawls into bed next to you.

“So uncomfy.”

She’s settling under the covers and you’re glad the room is dark so she can’t see how wide awake you are.

“Sorry, you looked so peaceful, I didn’t wanna wake you.” You whisper back to your friend as she’s dozing off.

You just lay there next to her. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to sleep. Not after the way her dad was just speaking to you in the hallway. The way his hands were touching you; so close to doing something neither of you could take back. You wondered what he must be thinking right now. Was he laying in bed thinking about you like you were thinking about him? Did he regret it? You sure didn’t, not one bit. In fact, all you wanted to do was sneak across the hall into Declan’s room and finish what he started.

my masterlist

#declan o'hara #declan o'hara x reader #declan o’hara smut #rivals #rivals fanfiction #rivals x reader #rupert campbell black x reader #best friends dad #dilf x reader #dilf smut #declan o’hara fanfiction

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kleine-joost · 5 months ago

Text

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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pedroscowgirl · 5 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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luna0713hunter · 10 months ago

Text

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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spacebaby1 · 8 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 · 4 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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milliesfishes · 5 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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mischievouslittlecreature · 2 months ago

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Part 29: From Under the Ground

Summary: After a month spent traveling the hills of England together, Tommy and Lucy prepare for the end.

Word Count: 3,081

Warnings: Almost suicide attempt, medical malpractice, violence, sexual content, and past suicide attempts.

Notes: Here we are. The last chapter of season 6. This has been such an incredible journey. I truly cannot put into words just how much all of your comments, likes, and support has meant to me regarding Lucy and this series. This is not the end! I fully plan to write Lucy into the film when it comes out, so you can expect for there to be more added to this series once the film is released. I also have a few dozen or so ideas for various AUs featuring Tommy and Lucy, so keep a lookout for those if you’re interested!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 20: The Eleventh Hour

“Lucy.”

She made a small noise of complaint, shifting under the thin blanket wrapped around her, face scrunching with displeasure when her cheek brushed against rough grass rather than her usual pillow of Tommy’s chest. The hand on her shoulder shook her gently again.

“Darling. Wake up.”

With a small whine, she opened her eyes, squinting up at him in the bright daylight. “What?”

“The coin landed on heads.”

She was suddenly wide awake. “Oh.”

He nodded gravely, straightening from where he had been bending over her. She sat up, stretching her back and shoulders with a quiet groan. Sleeping on the hard ground almost every night had done a hard number on her shoulders.

As she rubbed at them, she gazed out at the lush, green hills surrounding their little camp. The sky was blue and clear, the air pleasant and warm.

He kept his promise of giving them a month together before they thought of doing anything. Traveling the countryside. Sleeping and fucking under the stars at night. Catching and cooking their own food.

It was nice. If it weren’t for the thing hanging over their heads, she would have almost called it peaceful.

He didn’t start flipping the coin until five days ago, when they officially crossed the one month mark of being away, and they both agreed that it was time.

Tommy held out his hand to help her to her feet. She followed him silently over to the little black wagon they had been living out of.

Inside, they had set up a little altar of mementos and memories. Upon it lay dozens of pictures of all the people that they had loved and cared for. Along with little trinkets and objects of importance to both or either of them.

Lucy swallowed harshly, watching Tommy pull off his wedding ring, setting it on top of a photo of Charlie and Lizzie.

One month alone with her, and he had not taken it off. Lucy understood why, and she decided to make no comment on it and risk spoiling what little time they had left together. But it would be a lie to say that it didn’t sting that he left it on for so long. Just a little.

She slipped her own rings off, one by one, setting them onto the altar. Then the little gold hoop earrings she was wearing. And her pocket watch and chain from where they were stowed in her waistcoat.

Next she reached for the little golden heart pendant on the chain around her neck, but then hesitated. He gave it to her as a reminder of his love for her. Had it charmed even to bring her good luck, protection, and love.

She could not bring herself to take it off. Instead she let it slip back down underneath the collar of her shirt, the cold metal resting just below her collarbone.

Tommy finished removing all his valuables and lit a cigarette, taking a long, slow drag before plucking it from his lips and holding it out to her. She took it gratefully, puffing on it and then handing it back to him.

“Thank you for waking me.” He could have just as easily roused her with a gunshot, leaving her to weep over his dead body before doing herself in. She was sure that he considered it; not out of cruelty or disrespect for her wishes, but out of one final attempt to leave the door open for her to keep on living. If that was what she chose.

He touched her cheek lovingly, the calloused pad of his thumb stroking along her skin.

“I didn’t want that to be your last memory of me.”

She sucked in a deep breath, leaning forward until her head rested on his chest. How strange it was, to think that this was the last time they’d ever hold each other.

“Ready?” Tommy asked, stroking her hair. She closed her eyes, and nodded.

“Ready.”

He pulled back, cradling her cheeks in his palms, and kissed her. Slowly. Sweetly. As if he was trying to telegraph to her all of his love in that one press of his lips against hers. She kissed him back just the same, hoping he could feel it: everything that she felt for him.

“I love you more than anything.” He told her, after they parted, their foreheads touching.

“I love you more than anything,” she affirmed back to him. He kissed her once more, this one quick but just as sweet, and then took her hand, leading her to the doorway of the wagon.

She pulled her pistol from the holster hanging beside his on the door. Digging into her pocket, she mimicked his movements of taking out the clip and loading the bullet with her name etched into it. Their pistols clicked and snapped in unison as they loaded and cocked them in sync, their movements careful and precise.

Tommy guided her to stand in front of him, her back to the doorway. They faced each other, hands that weren’t holding their weapons clasping together tightly.

There are worse ways to go, she thought, staring up into his beautiful blue eyes. Together, they raised their pistols to their heads. At least this way, he would be the last thing that she ever saw.

Tommy drew in a deep breath. The barrel of her gun felt cold against her temple.

“In the bleak…midwinter.”

She closed her eyes, muscles tensing, finger just beginning to tighten around the trigger.

“Wait!” Tommy’s hand shot out, grabbing at her forearm, jerking her hand away so that even if she had fired the pistol at that moment, the bullet would not have fired into her skull like intended.

A good thing too, because the way that he grabbed her made her jump so badly that she almost did pull the trigger.

Her eyes snapped open, mouth falling open. “What–?”

Tommy shoved past her, out of the wagon, jogging across the grass away from her.

“Tommy, what the hell!?” she shouted after him, to no reply. Gun dangling at her side, she watched him fall to his knees in the grass a few paces away, his back to her.

She could only gape at him. Was this a symptom of his illness, finally making itself known? She still thought it odd that she hadn’t really noticed any, especially since they’d been out in the country together. But after the same diagnosis had come back from the doctor he’d gone to for a second opinion, she’d pretty much abandoned hope that Holford had been wrong.

She was about to go to him to make sure that he wasn’t having some sort of fit or something, when he turned back around to face her, staring at their smoldering campfire. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, making his way over to it. Lucy shoved her pistol back into the holster dangling from the wagon’s door, climbing down the steps to join him where he had knelt by remains of the fire, snapping twigs they’d gathered for kindling earlier, setting them into the pit, then pulling out his lighter and snatching up a half burned up newspaper.

Lucy sat down heavily beside him, head cocking, waiting patiently for an explanation. But instead he just stared down at the newspaper in his hands, expression morphing into one of pure shock.

“What?” she asked. There was no reply. “Tommy?”

“Do you remember…” Tommy swallowed hard, slowly raising his gaze to hers, “how when I first told you that I was sick, that you thought it might be a lie?”

She frowned. “I…yes? Yes, I remember that. But why–?”

“And you said that you didn’t remember doing any serious background checks on Holford?”

“Yeah…?”

“Look,” he pushed the newspaper into her hands. She frowned at him, but peered over the image anyway.

It was a picture of Mosley and Diana’s wedding. Half charred away from the previous times they used it to light the fire. But most of the faces of the guests had been spared.

To the far left of the photo, second from the edge, Dr. Holford’s face stared back at her.

Her jaw dropped open.

Oh. Absolutely the fuck not.

“I think…maybe you were right.” Tommy said, though she barely heard it. Her head was spinning too fast.

“You motherfu–” she crumpled up the newspaper in her hand, turned around, and promptly started beating Tommy over the head with it.

“Lucy! Ow! What the fuck!?”

“I. Fucking. Told. You. Something. Wasn’t. Right. You. Asshole!”

“With each word she smacked him with the newspaper. He raised his hands to try to protect himself from the assault, cringing away from her. She leaned off of him, tossing the paper aside. “Fucking hell, Thomas!” They almost fucking shot themselves. And potentially over nothing.

Goddamn overdramatic bastard.

“Don’t…don’t get all excited, yet,” he huffed, straightening himself out. “Just ‘cos he’s friends with Mosley doesn’t mean that the diagnosis wasn’t right. There were still those second scans that came back positive.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, snatching back up the paper and thrusting it into his face.

“Who is that?” she pointed at one of the women in the picture. The maid of honor, from the looks of her. Tommy squinted at it. She supposed she couldn’t be too hard on him for not noticing, since he didn’t have his glasses on.

“That’s Helen Rutherford…”

“The doctor he sent you to for a second opinion.” She lowered the newspaper. “They planned this out well, I’ll give them that. Holford had been your doctor long enough, they probably figured neither of us would see much point in doing checks on him again.”

Tommy took the half burned newspaper from her gingerly, still staring down at it.

Lucy felt her chest flex, relief rushing into her veins. He was okay. He wasn’t dying. Her Tommy was just fine.

They still had time together.

“They know that they can’t kill you,” she murmured, stroking her fingers along the back of his skull. “So they tried to get you to do the job for them.” She poked him in the shoulder. “I told you something didn’t seem right about all of this.”

He huffed. “Yeah, yeah, fine. You were right.” He set the paper down. “I think we should go find Holford anyway. To get a real confirmation from him that it’s a lie. Just to be sure.”

She shrugged. After this, she would like to pay a visit to Holford anyway. “Alright.”

He looked at her, face softening, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you.”

She shook her head. “They had me fooled too.”

He cringed. “We almost shot ourselves.”

“Yeah.” She brushed his fringe away from his face. Just looking at him. Appreciating his sharp cheekbones and dusting of freckles. The blue of his eyes and the softness of his lips. A giddiness suddenly washed over her, smile blooming across her features.

Alive. He was alive. They both were.

She took him by the cheeks and kissed him deeply. A startled sound came from the back of his throat that quickly transformed into a soft moan when her tongue tangled with his.

“What are you doing?” he laughed as she pushed him down onto the grass near the fire and straddled him.

“Celebrating,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him again.

∗ ∗ ∗

They parked their wagon on the top field overlooking Holford’s home early the next morning. It was about a day’s ride from where they camped the previous day, but with their white horse Phantom pulling the wagon, they made good time.

As the sun rose into the sky, they crept towards the mansion, pistols at the ready. A man was already working at readying the car in the courtyard–no doubt for Holford to head to work. Lucy approached him, pistol in one hand, smiling sweetly.

“Hello.”

The man raised his head from where he was bent over the open bonnet of the vehicle.

“Who the fuck are–”

Tommy shot out from where he snuck up around the car behind him. He pressed his pistol to the man’s temple, clapping a leather gloved hand over his mouth. Lucy pulled a bag of coins from her pocket, jingling it in the man’s face. His eyes stared at her widely. She grabbed one of his hands, and pressed the satchel into his palm, curling his fingers around it.

“Walk away.”

Tommy slowly loosened his grip on him, keeping his pistol trained on him in case the man decided to try to scream or run for help. The man scrambled away, out the gate leading from the drive and down a path to the main road.

She looked back at Tommy, and he shrugged.

“That’ll do.”

He bent over the open bonnet of the car, from a distance looking like a mechanic or chauffeur working on preparing the vehicle. Lucy crouched down by the front of it, out of view of any windows or the entrance that led from the home into the small courtyard they were in.

It was not long before they heard steps approaching.

“Have you filled the car with petrol?” Holford’s voice called. At no answer, his steps slowed. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with annoyance, coming around to the side of the car where Tommy was. “I said, have you filled the car with petrol?”

Tommy shot up, seizing him in much the same way he had grabbed the mechanic earlier; a hand clapped over his mouth and the pistol pressed to his temple. Lucy popped up from her hiding spot, smiling at Holford sweetly while Tommy asked him how the wedding in Berlin was.

“On your knees, Holford,” he ordered, after laying out for him what they had discovered the day before. Holford crouched in front of them, breathing shakily with Tommy’s pistol pointed at his forehead. Lucy kept one eye on him, another on their surroundings. Just in case anyone showed up with any ideas of trying to help Holford.

“You may not have tuberculoma, Mr. Shelby,” Holford admitted, and Lucy let out a small breath of relief. A part of her had been terrified that they were wrong; and this one little bit of hope that had landed in their laps at the very last moment was nothing but their wishful thinking.

“But you are sick,” Holford continued. “I know you. You are sick with guilt.” His eyes darted briefly to Lucy. “Both of you. Sick of death at your own hand. Sick of who you were.”

Lucy’s breaths rattled in her lungs, his words sinking in slowly. He was right, she supposed. They were both tired; had been for quite some time, if she were completely honest with herself. The guilt had already nearly devoured them once before, when she sliced open her wrists in the bathtub and he held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

“Oh, but I am back.” A smile pulled at the edges of Tommy’s lips. “Back from under the ground.”

Lucy felt her eyes close at that. A strange feeling washed over her. Something she had not truly felt in over fifteen years.

She died in that alley in London. Was buried under the earth, trying to claw her way out ever since. She had never escaped that hole Matthew as his friends dumped her in. Not really.

But, finally, it felt as though she had broken through the final layer of earth covering her; just starting to see the sunlight poking through the dirt.

The bell in the tower above them tolled, snapping her out of her thoughts. Holford whimpered, his eyes closed while Tommy pressed the barrel of his pistol to between his eyes. But at the sound of the bell, Tommy froze, reaching into his pocket for his watch. He stared at it, then tucked it away again, meeting Lucy’s eyes.

“The eleventh hour,” he said to her. She nodded. She felt it too. “Armistice. Peace at last. Peace at last.”

She and Tommy moved at the same time, his pistol aiming to the right of Holford’s head, pointing at the ground. She raised hers into the sky. The gunshots fired at the same exact moment, a duo thunderclap echoing throughout the courtyard. The bullets with their names written on them spent.

Their past selves, dead.

Without a word, they stepped away from Holford, walking side by side to the exit, holstering their weapons.

They walked back to their wagon in silence, the understanding between them humming strongly.

When they got to their wagon, it was to see it in flames, a man hastily running in the opposite direction down the hill. She and Tommy both drew out their pistols in case they needed them in defense, jogging towards where the black wagon was slowly being consumed by the fire the man had lit. The smell of petrol was strong in the air.

They both stopped, determining at the same time that the man was not a threat worth chasing after. Instead, they watched the wagon–the place that was intended to be their final resting place–spew smoke and flame and ash.

Lucy felt a sharp sense of finality settle over her; the punctation mark finally placed at the end of an eternal sentence. They stood side by side, watching their own funeral, observing those last bits of their past selves reduced to ashes and carried away by a gentle breeze.

Tommy’s hand on her waist drew her away, towards where Phantom stood, skirting away from the fire nervously. Tommy pulled himself onto his back, reaching down with his hand outstretched for her. She grasped his strong arm tightly, using his strength to help pull herself up onto the horse’s back behind him. Her hands settled on his waist for balance, Tommy bringing Phantom to a stop a little ways away from the burning wagon. They each took a long, lingering look at it. The roof looked like it was seconds away from caving in. If Lucy closed her eyes, she could imagine their gravestones, side by side. Names chiseled into the stone.

Tommy pressed his heels into Phantom’s sides, steering him in the opposite direction of the burning wagon. He drove him into a steady gallop, hooves thundering against the ground, the white horse carrying them away together over the green, sunny hills.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lily writes #love me where i'm most ruined

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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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child0feden · 23 days ago

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MY ANGEL OF LIGHT

oscar taylor x hyper feminine! crybaby! reader

- general dating headcanons for oscar with a hyper feminine crybaby partner!

this idea was too cute and i have had oscar brain rot so bad the past couple of days so i just had to do it… the crybaby plot is lesser mentioned but is definitely there hehe! hope this is okay for you, anon <3

- requested by anon | view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: in my house by mary jane girls - angel of light by angmaer

- first of all, it is so obvious to quite literally everybody and anybody who knows the two of you that you have this beautiful man completely under your little pink glitter spell

✩ like, it seriously seems like you have put some kind of magical spell on him or something like that because he is just so beyond in love with you and he is just so beyond obsessed with everything about you…

- there is nothing about you that oscar could not lose himself in admiring for hours on end! despite the fact that your style and some of your interests as well as your hobbies are definitely quite different to his own

✩ oscar prefers dark and almost somber colours but you much prefer bright and light pastel colours! whilst his closet is almost full of all just black clothes, your own closet is full of all just the most colourful clothes with an especially noticeable amount of pink in the mix of colours

- this is not to say that some odd black shirts do not make their way into your closet though, because they definitely do! over time, some black cotton band t-shirts that do not belong to you start to infiltrate your colourful closet… of course, these band t-shirts do actually belong to oscar but you can never stop yourself from stealing some from him! despite the fact that they definitely do not quite work with your outfits, they smell so much like him and remind you of him too…

✩ obviously, oscar does not mind you stealing his clothes at all! in fact, he kind of really loves it a whole lot when you steal and wear his band t-shirts

- no matter what your body type is, if you are smaller than oscar and his t-shirts are super oversized on you or even if you are a little bit bigger than him and his t-shirts hug your body whilst showing off every curve through the soft fabric, he just likes to see you wearing his things!

✩ and no matter how you wear his t-shirts, oscar will find it both very cute and super hot at the same time!

- if you wear them along with your usual super feminine outfits? he thinks the mix of your soft accessories and your cute little skirt being paired with his black band t-shirt is just adorable and incredibly hot…

✩ and if you wear them to bed or around the house with nothing more than a little pair of pastel pink lace panties covering your most intimate areas? well, come on now, how could he not absolutely love that too…

- would oscar make you a one of one custom angmaer t-shirt? with the cotton being stark white and the band logo being a light pink? of course he would! just for you, i mean, you already wear his bands t-shirt a whole lot anyways but he would want to make you one that he knows you would really love! and oh man does seeing your wear his bands t-shirt get him going

✩ you know those pictures and videos of men sleeping in princess beds surrounded by pink things and soft plushies? with hello kitty bedsheets and all? because that princess bed belongs to their girlfriend?

- yeah, that is exactly what happens with oscar! he is not the type of man to not sleep with you just because your bed is so feminine, not at all! he has no issue with it, in fact… he actually thinks your princess bed is super comfortable and warm… and it is just so you… and he gets to cuddle with you and smell you and sleep with you which is a major bonus too…

✩ he would have absolutely no problem with you recording one of those videos of him sleeping in your princess bed with his long blonde hair a total mess across the pink pillows and his face soft with sleep, he would have zero problems with you posting it to your social media and fawning about how cute your big metal boyfriend looks in your princess bed! in fact, i feel like he would actually find it really quite funny

- when it comes to pet names, oscar bounces between calling you both princess and sweetheart! both of the cute pet names work so well for you so he never uses just one of those, he switches between both instead

✩ he especially likes to watch just how flustered you get when he calls you his princess though! not just any princess but his princess, he loves making you all flustered with the nickname both in public and in the bedroom… do the two of you sometimes do some roleplaying as a knight and a princess as foreplay before it leads into roleplaying during sex? absolutely! i feel like he would be a little bit of a nerd like that sometimes, especially with how much he seems to like lord of the rings, game of thrones and so on…

- it is not often that the two of you can stay all that serious during roleplay like that, the two of you are always breaking out into little chuckles from trying to use old slang and talk in a medieval kind of way, but both of you like to do it because it is fun and it is kind of hot to imagine yourself as a supposedly respectful princess giving it up to oscar, a serving knight with gorgeous flowing hair! and in short, you get to act like a real princess so what is there not to love?

✩ your contact name in his phone is something like “ my pink princess ” or “ my pretty princess ” and it has probably been that even before the two of you started dating… because he just had a major crush on you and had a lot of hope that you would be his one day…

- his phone lock screen is just a picture of you and his cat! his cat looks like it is in heaven as it receives scratches from your acrylic nails and you are just staring at him through the camera lens with what has to be the most gorgeous smile he has ever seen, despite the fact that your cute outfit is covered in cat hairs

✩ oscar always carries at the very least ten pink sanrio bandaids in the pockets of either his leather jacket or his camo trousers just for you!

- i mean, it look less than a short month of being in a relationship with you for him to notice just how often you sometimes tripped up in your step due to wearing your platformed mary jane shoes or your other heeled shoes… and due to how you almost always wear short little skirts with either very thin tights underneath or nothing at all to cover the delicate skin of your legs, these small trip ups would leave you with one or two scrapes on your knees… and the slight stinging pain from these scrapes would then lead to you getting just a little bit emotional…

✩ but oscar has no problem with the fact that you are just a little bit of a crybaby at times! and so whenever you get these little scrapes, he has no problem with just telling you to take a seat down on a bench before kneeling down in front of you and taking your leg into his warm hand, smirking as he leans his face in towards the small scrape and presses a soft peck to the broken skin before kitten licking to collect the minuscule drops of blood from your knee and smiling when he hears you let out a watery giggle in between flustered mumbles for him to quit it because the two of you are in public, despite the fact that no one is around to see

“ awh, ‘m sorry, princess… just tryin’ to make you feel better, hm? ” ( in fairness, he is being kind of honest! the kiss and the lick was, for the most part, to try and make you feel a little better and stop you from crying! but at the same time, the kiss and the lick was just him being a little bit cheeky too, he likes the taste of blood and he loves seeing you flustered )

- only after he has pressed two gentle kisses to your scraped up knees is when he gets the adorable bandaids out and covers the scrapes up for you, smoothing the bandaids over your broken skin with such gentleness and obvious care as to not make them sting even more! and when the bandaids are applied to the scrapes? he will stay kneeled in front of you before bringing his hands up to your face and wiping away some stray teardrops from your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away some of your messed up makeup before he leans up and presses a deep kiss against your soft lips whilst mumbling into your mouth as his hand comes up to take yours

“ too pretty to be cryin’ sweetheart… come on then, you okay to walk, yeah? ” ( his voice is so deep but so soft as he asks if you are okay to walk again, not to mention just how loving his blue eyes are as they look up at you )

✩ if your feet ever get a little bit sore from walking around in your usual heels or platformed shoes? he is definitely the type of man who will take off his own black combat boots and give them over to you for you to wear instead whilst he holds your shoes in his hand, walking in nothing but black cotton socks whilst you wear his shoes, wether they fit your feet fine or not! so long as you are comfortable? he would do anything for you

- not to mention how many times he gives you his leather jacket to wear whenever you get cold! he is so quick to take his leather jacket off and slip it over your body before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to offer you even more warmth

✩ oscar would work just fine with a partner who is a bit of a crybaby! i mean, he is obviously already quite a sweetheart in general and towards you? those sweetheart soft tendencies would only triple to almost impossible amounts

- seriously, he is always there to brush your hair back and wipe away your tears for you! he never looks down upon you for being a little sensitive and if anything? he actually quite likes it, he likes being able to smother you in his love and wipe away your tears for you

✩ just because someone is feminine does not mean that they cannot or do not enjoy things like extreme metal music and oscar more than loves it if you are a fan of his kind of music despite looking so sweet and soft and… just not metal at all…

- wether you were into his kind of music before you even met him or if you started to like it when the two of you began dating and he showed you his favourite bands, if you like his kind of music it is just a major bonus to being with you for him! not only do you look like a doll and make him feel like the luckiest man to ever live but you like his favourite music? oh it just kills him! but if you like pop music too, or if you only really listen to pop music, then he has no real problem with it! he will let you make him playlists full of music that reminds you of him and he will do the same for you, he has no problem with it if your pop music cds begin to appear beside his metal cds in his room

✩ oscar fucking you stupid in your cute little ultra feminine princess bed whilst loud metal music blares from your cd player? him making sure that the music is loud enough to fill him with adrenaline and energy but low enough for him to still hear your high pitched moans and whines as he stuffs you with his cock and low enough for you to still hear him praising you? get out now

“ takin’ me so well, princess… taking me so deep in your pretty little cunt… ” ( he loves praising you during sex so much, he loves it more than anything else! i do not think that he would ever be able to even attempt degrading you during sex, he is just too sweet and soft on you )

- i think it is very clear that oscar has no problem with having his picture taken and having a social media presence so of course he never blinks an eye when you want to take pictures with him and post them to your much more… fun and colourful social media profile… in fact, it kind of makes him almost flustered with how eager you are to take pictures with him and show him off to people! he likes people knowing that he is yours and you are his, despite how different and opposite the two of you may seem…

✩ he likes being in your cute little selfies! usually he just holds you from behind and rests his chin down on your shoulder or atop your head with his usual little smile on his face, but whilst your eyes look into the camera, his own deep blue always seem to be drifting more towards you as he admires the way your sparkling lipgloss coated lips smile up at the camera lens and the way your glittering eyeshadow compliments your eyes

- does he sometimes stalk your special media when the two of you are not together? maybe…

✩ not in a weird way though! he just loves seeing you so much, he loves seeing your smile and reading your cute little captions and observing the adorable emoticons you use in your posts! so whenever the two of you are not together and side by side, which is quite rare anyways, he will often find himself scrolling through your profiles and saving pictures of you to his phone

- oscar absolutely buys pink sex toys for you too… vibrator? pink! handcuffs? also pink! leather straps? pink too! he just adores watching you get all flustered and worked up whilst thanking him for getting your favourite colour…

✩ and as much as oscar hates to see you cry, he loves to make you cry from pleasure with those very same pink toys!

- not to get a little bit too sexual and risqué here but i will say just one thing, oscar has a very pretty pink tip and it would make for a wonderful acrylic nail colour… if you know what i mean…

✩ getting his tip hex colour on your nails would just about destroy this man for good! he would be baffled but also he would just fall even more in love with you because damn that is absolutely insane and just kind of a little bit weird but also so sweet and super hot too! as soon as you flaunt your new nails in front of him, all he will do is stare at them for a couple seconds with a smile creeping across his face whilst you ramble to him about how nice the colour is before he asks you if you want to match the colour up right now, just to see how perfect of a match they really are to his tip colour

- giving him handjobs when your nails are the colour of his tip? oh it drives him so beyond insane! every time he takes a glance down at your hand as it grasps his hard cock and gives it soft strokes, the sight of your manicured nails matching the colour of his tip as it leaks pearl drops of pre-cum makes him let out a deep groan and throw his head back in pure euphoria from both the physical pleasure you are gifting him and the sight itself

“ awh, fuckin’ hell… that is so… fuck ” ( he can never even get a full sentence out after seeing the sight of your nail colour matching the tip of his cock as your hand is wrapped around him! all he can ever do is throw his head back and squeeze his eyes shut from the pleasure and the tightening he feels in his balls )

✩ oscar does not think that you need makeup at all but he never pushes you to not wear it! he knows that sometimes you just like wearing it and it is not because you are insecure or anything like that! so most of the time he will be laid back on your bed, just watching you as you do your usual makeup… he likes it when you ask for his opinion on a certain eyeshadow colour too! he takes an actual interest in it and tries to pick the one that he thinks matches your outfit the best and he will always help you hold your hair back out of your face if you cannot find a hair tie to use… whenever you have some trouble deciding on anything like an eyeshadow colour, a hair style or a nail polish, oscar is always right there and ready to pick one out for you… he likes watching your pout melt into a smile when he picks his favourite and tells you to do that one…

- and your lipgloss? oh he is just obsessed with all of your lipgloss! he adores the feeling of it against his lips and the taste of it on his tongue so much! letting you straddle his waist and smother his face in kisses whilst he laughs at the feeling of lipgloss kiss prints being left on his pale skin? and letting you take a picture of him with those glittering kiss prints all over his face with a notable pink blush on his face and his eyes sparkling with love? absolutely yes, he loves it when you show him off

✩ oscar has probably even let you paint his nails with a pink glitter or black glitter nail polish at some point too! the man had kitten stickers on his guitar, i cannot see him being embarrassed by little things like that at all, especially not when you hype him up and tell him how cute and hot he looks all the time

- and speaking of him letting you do things for him, he does not wear corpse paint all that often but when he does? he likes when you do it for him! with you being so much more used to applying makeup and nail polish, your hands are much steadier than his and his corpse paint always just turns out better when you do it for him… plus he gets to have you sat on his lap as you do it and he gets to steal kisses every couple of seconds so why would he ever say no to that? he might even test his luck and slip his calloused fingers up your skirt if he feels like you are in the right kind of mood… even if you seat at his arm and tell you that you are going to mess the paint up…

✩ since he said that his behemoth tattoo was the first of many, i can see him probably getting a tattoo for you after the two of you have been dating for a while!

- it would be small like a little pink coloured bow or something similar, but it would be something that reminds him of you a whole lot and it would be something that he knew you would really like too!

✩ and speaking of his behemoth tattoo, he loves it when you kiss the ink design and trace the black ink lines of it with the sharp yet dull tip of your cute nails

- though to be honest, he kind of just loves feeling your nails in general! when the two of you are cuddling in bed and your give his head scratches whilst pushing his long blonde hair out of his face? when you drag them down the flesh of his naked back as he fucks into you? when you run them along his arm whilst sitting behind him as he practices his guitar on the edge of your bed? urgh, he just cannot get enough of the feeling of your manicured nails against him

✩ oscar would probably definitely let you bedazzle his glasses if you wanted to! he does not even hesitate to hand them over to you and smiles when you get all excited before going to grab your different glitters and jewels from your white wooden desk! he will just sit on the end of your bed practicing his guitar whilst you sit up against the headboard and focus on making his glasses all pretty for him, despite the fact that he does not wear them all too often

- you want to make any or even all of his things pretty? honestly, just go for it! put your glitter and gems on quite literally everything he owns if you want to, he could never even attempt to say no to you… not when you give him that cute little pout and look up at him with those big doe eyes that make his lower area feel heated with both love and lust…

✩ tying your little pink ribbons around his drumsticks? sticking pink glitter on his guitar pick? hello? he would genuinely love it when you do stuff like that to his things

- and oh my gosh, speaking of pink ribbons, oscar would absolutely let you put your little pastel ribbons in his long blonde hair!

✩ his own bedroom is much messier than yours and it just looks a lot different to yours in general but when you are in his room instead of the two of you being in yours? you love to sit just behind him on his bed as he plays video games, you love to wrap your legs around his waist from behind and tie little pink ribbons in his long blonde hair all whilst he tries to focus on the tv screen in front of him…

- oscar gets you a gorgeous little necklace for your one year anniversary together!

✩ the necklace itself is just his initial, an o that is embedded with so many shining little gemstones that seem to sparkle an impossible amount under any amount of light… he knew you would love it solely because of how bright and pretty it is! he likes seeing you wear it with low cut shirts, seeing his initial resting above your heart and just atop your breasts makes him feel all warm inside…

- all in all, oscar would just absolutely worship the ground that you walk on and loves how different you are to him! he loves you and all of your pink ribbons too <3

#requested ✩#oscar taylor x reader #angmaer x reader #angmaer headcanons #oscar taylor #angmaer #dating headcanons #headcanons

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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

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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

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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.”

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