#there's nothing I could have done I'm afraid

[lorenuh]

imagine being the volturi's personal witch. cw // death, description of burning bodies & murder, supernatural themes.

"THE MORTALS ARE CRUEL, EVEN TO THEIR OWN." the bored, melodic voice of jane volturi is heard as four vampires trek through the blood—stained cemetery. there were no bodies, just the stench of death & the smell of burning flesh still lingering in the air. they had gotten word——a plea of help just hours earlier, in the form of a charred piece of paper floating down in front of the vampire kings' thrones.

witches were sacred to the volturi, their magic is what created the vampire gift laid upon them centuries ago, so they protected them. helped them when they could. they were only the enemy if they went against them, and this coven hadn't been such in the slightest.

"it's a shame, sister. we could have had them in our debt." alec volturi spoke, crimson eyes taking in the scene. it was quiet, eerily so. the witch—hunters had done a number on this coven. rang them through with bullets before burning their corpses to the point where their bones became ash so no other witches could consecrate them & gain their power. "should we continue, or leave?" demetri muses, taking joy in being able to leave the castle, even if it wasn't a tracking mission. jane hums, walking forward still with the grace of a vampire. "we will see if there are any survivors, or if the witch—hunters still roam." the four being engulfed into silence yet again, until they pick up on the pitter patter of a heartbeat. alone, in the middle of the cemetery. a hunter would not be alone.

the four vampires speed to the heart of the tombs, noticing a figure stepping over the ash that became the witches. this was the sole survivor, that much was known from the way they carefully made their way around the remains, how they look at the dead.

"i warned them." they utter, before turning to look at the vampires. "i warned them all, but no—one listens to the one burdened with prophecy. i'm afraid your long trip was for nothing." jane tsks at the witch's statement, stepping forward, surveying the scene as well as looking them up and down. "i believe we came and found exactly what we were looking for. albeit surrounded by death & decay." the small vampire grins at the witch, who doesn't look surprised in the least. "aro would want to speak with you." the girl continues, stepping forward again. "but, if you are what you say, i believe you already know that."

the witch tilts their head, eyes narrowing slightly, "you will find that walking around ignorant is better than walking around as a know—it—all, especially since the future is everchanging." they're unafraid in the presence of four vampires, knowing that whilst they could kill them, they wouldn't. not when their visions had told them that they would be incredibly valuable.

[etchingsandepitaphs]

Down Time

MORE ARCANE FANFICTION I'M NOT SORRY it's CaitVi Hurt/Comfort this time tehehe enjoy

Word Count: 2703

Summary: Vi has a couple of hours to herself, and spirals when she realizes she has nothing to do. Caitlyn comforts her, and shows her something in the Kiramman mansion that brings up an old love.

CWs: Described panic attack, discussions of war-related PTSD, mentions of death, mentions of class imbalance, swearing

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

No matter how long she spent there, Vi was certain that she would never get used to the overwhelming size of the Kiramman mansion. Even if Caitlyn had said it was more modest compared to some of the other councillor’s families, she in no way believed her. The place felt sprawling, endless hallways of rooms that had taken her weeks not to get lost in. Even now, despite living there, she still found herself getting turned around.

She’d found herself with a couple hours to spare while Caitlyn was busy, and immediately she was overcome with a deep-rooted anxiety.

“You sure there’s nothing I can help you with, cupcake?” She asked, hovering in the doorway to her girlfriend’s office. Caitlyn was staring at a machine that Vi knew held all of her mother’s decades of research, and she shook her head, clearly already in intense focus.

“Just give me a few hours, and I’ll be all yours. I just have a problem that I’m trying to work out.” She was chewing on her bottom lip, and sounded slightly dismissive in a way that made Vi know that the conversation was over. It wasn’t a personal attack, it was just the way she always got when she was trying to focus. 

“Right. Okay. Cool. No worries. I’ll see you in a few hours then.” She peeled herself away from the doorway slowly, allowing the office door to swing shut behind her and trying to keep herself from being stressed out.

It wasn’t like she was trying to be clingy. Caitlyn was allowed to do things without her; hell, it was healthy for them to do things without each other. But she still felt her breath quicken as she made her way down the hall, walking aimlessly in the opposite direction of the office.

She’d been in situations that would have been the stuff of nightmares for her teenage self. She’d fought monsters, and fought people worse than monsters. She truly had very little left to be afraid of.

So why did the idea of having free time scare the shit out of her?

She had genuinely nothing that she needed to do. And while her normal recourses would be to drink or to train, she’d sworn off alcohol after her weeks in the pit, and she’d just done a pretty intense full-body workout that morning. Not having to be a walking weapon anymore meant she had to learn how to pace herself. How to think a week ahead, not just a day.

She was struggling to grasp the concept.

Having downtime wasn’t something she had been used to, in recent years. Definitely not since Vander died, but probably a bit before that. She’d been itching to fight from the moment she was old enough to comprehend the hand that the undercity had been dealt.

So she made sure that she could. She honed her skills in every spare moment she had. She got in street fights to practice, she went running to improve her stamina in case they needed to escape. She was watching her family, or she was training. Those were her only goals. For years.

And then she got thrown into Stillwater, and all of the sudden she was in survival mode.

She was almost certain that she’d never left.

Her breath was coming quicker now, and she mentally berated herself for being so ridiculous. She was perfectly safe. She had nothing to be afraid of here.

Yet her body was reading signs of panic anyway, on the edges of her mind and threatening to overwhelm her system. Her hands had begun to shake, and she couldn’t help but sink to the ground in the hallway, back pressed to the wall. She felt dysfunctional and childish; she shouldn’t have to rely on her girlfriend to give her tasks. What happened to having hobbies? She was certain that she’d had hobbies once, hadn’t she? Things that she wanted to accomplish with her time, before it had all been overcome with war?

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She didn’t even know what she was freaking out about, truly. Was she honestly that upset about not having anything to do? She could go take a nap, for fuck’s sake. This wasn’t that big of a deal.

But her brain wouldn’t listen to any of that, not once the panic attack had started. All she could do was sit on the floor and unravel while she waited for her mind to get its bearings. She only hoped that nobody would —

“Vi? What’s wrong?”

Fuck.

She moved her hands away from her eyes and saw a very concerned looking Caitlyn Kiramman at the end of the hall. Caitlyn rushed over to her side instantly, clearly scanning her body for physical injury as Vi was overcome with an undue feeling of embarrassment.

Of course she’d find her like this. Of course.

“Did something happen? Are you okay?” She seemed to have concluded that there were no external signs of damage, and Vi just shook her head slightly as she attempted to breath well enough to speak.

She held up a finger signaling for Caitlyn to wait a second, and she gave her the space she needed, watching in concern as Vi forced air in and out of her lungs. After a moment, Caitlyn joined her, sitting up against the wall next to her girlfriend and taking in calming breaths.

Vi had no idea how long they sat there like that. How long it took for the fog in her mind to clear and for her thoughts to unscramble themselves. Only that when they did, she was overcome with the urge to cry.

Caitlyn seemed to notice that she’d calmed down, because she turned to her again, lightly placing a hand on her leg to get her attention. Vi flinched a bit, refusing to look at her for a second before Caitlyn spoke.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asked, and Vi’s heart broke at the concern in her voice. She turned to her instantly, shaking her head.

“No, no, it wasn’t anything you did. I just… got overwhelmed. For a minute.” It was a bullshit explanation, and they both knew it. But Caitlyn just gently wrapped an arm around her girlfriend, allowing Vi to fall into her embrace.

She didn’t want to cry, but she couldn’t help it. Her body relaxed instantly, tears running down her cheeks as she let her head rest on Caitlyn’s shoulder.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I know how to be a person anymore,” She said, struggling to get the words out, voice choked with emotion. She had a hard time crying around other people, but that had long since gone out the window with Caitlyn. At this point, they’d both seen each other cry enough that they were well aware of what the other one needed.

And Vi just needed to get it out of her system. She pulled herself back together pretty quickly as Caitlyn gently ran her fingers through her cropped hair, but she still didn’t move from her girlfriend’s arms even after the tears had stopped. She just sniffled, feeling suddenly exhausted.

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t know how to be a person’?” Caitlyn asked once her crying had slowed. Vi just sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I’m being ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Caitlyn said, tilting Vi’s chin up so she was looking her in the eye. “If it’s impacting you, it’s not ridiculous.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t had free time since before Vander died. Before… all of this. I don’t know what to do with myself now.”

“Oh, darling…” She was clearly thinking hard for a second, nodding to both herself and Vi. “I had a similar experience after my mom died. Everything in my mind was war, and anything that wasn’t didn’t feel like it had any place at all.”

“Exactly. And now that it doesn’t all have to be war… it’s like I don’t know how to be a regular functioning adult anymore.”

She felt Caitlyn’s arms tighten around her, and both women sat there in silence for a second, thoughts racing. Finally, Caitlyn spoke again.

“Well, what did you like to do? Before, I mean.”

Vi laughed a bit. “Hell, Cait, I was like ten. I don’t even know if I remember.”

Caitlyn laughed as well, before shaking her head. “Okay, then what did you wish you could do when you were a kid? Like, when you had free time, what did you want to do?”

“I mean, I’ve always genuinely loved boxing…”

“But aside from that. I know you love boxing and that’s great, but that’s also a survival tactic. What sounded like it would be fun to do, if you were able?”

She thought about it for a minute before her mind was drawn back to the job they’d done that started all of this. When she broke into Jayce’s lab, and the first thing she’d run to was the bookshelves lining the wall.

“I’ve always wanted to get more into reading. We didn’t have a ton of access to paper books in the undercity, but I remember when I was little devouring whatever my parents could get their hands on.”

She looked over at Caitlyn to see her grinning, a slightly mischievous smile that made Vi’s stomach flip. “Well in that case, I have something you’re going to be very excited to see.” She unwrapped her arms from around Vi’s frame, before asking, “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I’m all good now.”

She rose to her feet, holding her hand out to help her girlfriend up and remembering the first time they were in this position. On the streets of Zaun, right after Vi had been stabbed. The first of many times that she had called her “cupcake.”

That felt like a thousand years ago now.

Still, she shook off her reverie as she felt Vi’s hand firmly in her’s, pulling her to her feet and quickly taking off in a brisk walk down the hall. Vi jogged a little to catch up, watching Caitlyn with a wary enthusiasm.

“Cait, where are we going?” She asked. Caitlyn just grinned again.

“You’ll see!”

They turned the corner to a hallway that Vi had never seen before, and were soon standing in front of a pair of double doors. Caitlyn was practically bouncing on her feet now, and she looked over at Vi excitedly.

“Are you ready?” She asked. Vi just raised an eyebrow at her, trying to act concerned even as a small involuntary smile flickered over her face.

“I think so?” She replied, the answer taking the form of another question. If Caitlyn noticed though, she didn’t care, just throwing open the doors in front of them to reveal the most beautiful room Vi had ever set eyes on in her life.

Just when she thought that Kiramman mansion couldn’t get any nicer, all the air left her lungs as she walked through the doorway and into an ornate library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books lined the walls, and she wondered to herself how anybody could possibly read all of these in their lifetime.

And her second thought was of how badly she wanted to try.

She didn’t say any of this to Caitlyn though, of course. Instead, she just smacked her arm and said, “You fucking people have way too much money.”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I didn’t build the house.” She put her hands up in defense, even though it was clear that Vi’s tone was lighthearted. She still wasn’t really sure if she was truly upset or not when she marveled at Piltover’s wealth. There was a strange sense of guilt that ate at Caitlyn every time she mentioned it, despite the fact that these were simply positions they were both born into.

“How…” She was snapped out of her thoughts by Vi’s breathless exhalation, the two of them having now moved into the middle of the room so that her gaze could trace every single shelf. “How many are there?”

“Oh god, I have no idea. A lot. Some of them are my parents’, but a lot of them belonged to my grandfather as well. He was quite the collector.”

“But they all belong to your family?” Vi asked, hardly able to believe it. Caitlyn just nodded. She had never viewed the library as mundane, but she was relishing in seeing it through new eyes. Recognizing just how beautiful it truly was.

“And you can read every single one of them, if you want to,” Caitlyn said, and Vi’s gaze snapped to hers. She was grinning like an idiot now, and it made Caitlyn’s heart melt.

“I cannot believe I’ve been here for two weeks now and you haven’t shown me this yet,” She remarked, her tone carrying a joking accusation. Caitlyn just laughed.

“I didn’t know you were passionate about reading! And also, in my defense, we were both a little bit preoccupied.” The cleanup and restoration efforts after the fight with Viktor and The Arcane had been immense, and were nowhere near done yet. This was just the first time that either of them had had even an hour of downtime.

Vi just laughed, though her expression turned a bit more solemn with the reminder of everything that had happened over the past few weeks. Still, the shine in them wasn’t dimmed as she looked at the room around her. “So… you’re sure you don’t need help with anything?”

Caitlyn laughed too, and she shook her head. “Nope. Nothing. I’ve got it all taken care of, and you’re welcome to spend as much time in here as you want.”

Vi grinned, pulling her girlfriend in for a kiss. When they broke away, both of them were smiling. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I’m just glad that I could help.”

“You always help,” Vi said, a sincerity in her voice that made Caitlyn’s eyes water.

“I love you,” She said, pulling her in for another kiss before Vi could get a word out. She laughed when they broke apart again.

“I love you too, cupcake.”

Caitlyn took her leave from the library after that, leaving Vi to stand there marveling at her family’s collection. For a moment, she wasn’t even sure where to start. The shelves didn’t appear to be labeled in any particular organization system, and none of the titles sounded very familiar.

Until her eyes caught on a book that dragged up a memory she had completely forgotten that she even had.

“Holy shit,” She exclaimed under her breath, pulling it out and assessing the cover. It was in significantly better condition than the copy that she’d had as a kid, but the memory was vivid all the same. She opened it up, thumbing through the pages as scenes came rushing back to her.

Her ninth birthday, when her parents had given her a small package. It was her favorite gift she had ever been given. She read the entire thing that night, and then the next day she read it again, and again, sitting curled up in a corner booth at The Last Drop as she devoured the pages until they were practically falling apart. She’d lost it at some point in the move from her parents’ house to Vander’s after they were killed, and the loss devastated her.

And now she had it in her hands again.

It was a children’s book. It wasn’t like it was the peak of literature. With all the books in this library, she could surely find a better one. But at that moment, there was nothing she wanted to read more.

 She held it tightly in her hands like it would slip away again, moving over to one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. Surrounded by books, nestled into a safe spot in the Kiramman mansion, she allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time in years. She opened the cover.

And she felt the warmth of home.

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I see you, stranger."

"Come to our tree.."

[shalom-iamcominghome]

do you agree that a convert to reform judaism is just a goy appropriating jewish culture? or do you think reform conversions are just as valid as any other?

"Do you agree" feels like you're already presupposing what my position ought to be - if so, what's the point in asking beyond validation? Perhaps it's a misreading of your tone, anon, and if so, I apologize. I can become quite on edge because I have seen a lot of disappointing "discourse" about this topic.

If you've put the work into being a jew, you're a jew. The second you leave the mikveh - the second you become a jew - there is nothing for you to appropriate. Most jews in my country (U.S.) are reform, in fact.

A jew is a jew, and I hold love, admiration, and appreciation for all jews. In fact, it's written about extensively in my bio (not my pinned post) because I want this to be welcoming for everyone, not just people like myself. This is something I will not negotiate about. I am not interested in negotiating this because it only, ultimately, divides and hurts us all. Reform isn't for me personally in the stage of life I am in and what I want my judaism to look like. If ever there was a time that this changes when I am jewish, I will plan accordingly in any direction. I don't want my conversion to be validated simply due to potential distaste one might have for the reform movement - I and my community have been putting all this work in for my jewish life.

Reform judaism is so much more nuanced and complex than I think many people are willing to give it credit for. To me, it is all judaism. And I hope with my extensive blogging on this account that you know how I feel about judaism as a whole.

[forcebookish]

damn remember when ichigo went full hollow and orihime was terrified of him but when ulquiorra, someone she has only known as a hollow and kidnapped her by threatening to murder all her friends and spent her whole imprisonment intimidating her, asked her if she was afraid of him she said she wasn't

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

LIKE WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT????????

[blujayonthewing]

SUPREMELY frustrating that we found something actually really cool and intriguing and plot relevant in tonight's session but I'm still so constantly preoccupied with whether the DM is going to 100% kill us with sheer poor game design that I barely have enough brainspace left over to even enjoy it

[vaguely-concerned]

I've written 5000 words of lucanis and rye fic the last two days and the only reason the wip isn't even longer yet is probably that my brain turns into useless ash and blows away for the day once it's channeled the lightning bolt of writing energy for a couple of hours and needs to sleep before it can stand up to another onslaught.

[amariemelody]

This morning, how the hell did we have a legit Code Blue during shift change, got 15+ people in & out the room (including me, bringing the saline flushes and gloves), the monitor is still showing asystole (AKA flatline/heartbeat) for this poor old lady even after 3 rounds of chest compressions...

...And you're going to try to walk right on by with your backpack on and car keys in hand? You could only "try" because I know you doubled back and went out on the other side so people wouldn't see you walking out during a Code.

I don't...I get that I now work in a hospital and I'm Going To See Some Shit, but I don't...understand people right now.

I don't understand.

I drove home crying this morning.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

.

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Beginning to really wonder how much of my financial concern is manufactured and handed to me as opposed to something I'm genuinely concerned by

[novakstiel]

being a woman is literally so traumatizing like being in a serious relationship i’m finally coming face to face with the fact that if i want children, i will have to go through the most horrendous experience and the most excruciating pain a human can experience and i’m supposed to just be fine with that? wtf? like women will go like “yeah when i gave birth it hurt so bad i thought i was gonna die and it lasted for like a couple days too and i wasn’t given anything to help the pain and instead i was told to leave the hospital because i wasn’t “far enough along yet” and also the baby ripped my pussy and after the birth i had difficulties even using the toilet” and that’s just.... normal???? what the fuck i’m literally going insane thinking about this every day

[mobpd]

I'm such a coward. tried to at least get deep enough as a preparation to slit my wrists but I couldn't even get to the second layer. and it's not even like i don't like to hit styro, i'm just being a little bitch about it

[thinkinonsense]

Sweet Temptations.

logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fingering, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, inexperienced reader, darkish!logan

a/n: hi! sorry i've been gone so long! i have plenty of stuff in the works but for now here's this. i'm working on making a mini-series of dark!logan x inexperienced!reader so i hope everyone enjoys! <3

to think, logan almost went out to the bar tonight. almost left to find a one night stand or come home and fuck his hand. tonight could've had so many different outcomes but luckily, he ended up with the best one.

there's a light knock on his bedroom door. he knew it had to have been you since everyone was on a field trip a couple hours away for the night. logan obviously wasn't interested in going and you were busy working on an experiment in the laboratory.

in all reality, logan just wanted an excuse to stay here alone with you overnight. ever since he joined the x-men and met you down in the lab in that cute white coat and pretty smile, he's had a crush on you.

"hi, logan." you smile softly when he opens his door.

"hey, dollface. you need something?" he asks, leaning against his door frame and eyeing that short little nightgown of yours.

"can we talk?"

"sure."

the two of you walk into logan's room and sit on the end of his bed. you sit up on your knees, facing him. he can tell that something is on your mind but you're unsure on if you should confide in him or not.

"is everything alright?" he asks, growing concerned.

you nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

"whatcha wanna talk about then, sweets?"

logan's large hand rubs your knee softly, almost coaxing the words out of you.

"would you do me a big favor?" you ask, avoiding his hazel gaze.

"of course."

there's slight hesitation. you were afraid of logan's reaction to your request. after a deep breath, you remind yourself that it's just logan. the same logan who trains with you every morning, the same logan who plays with your hair when he's bord, the same logan who praises you for all your hard work in the laboratory. there was nothing to be afraid of.

"c-can you take my virginity?"

the question almost killed logan. he thought he had died and gone to heaven. you finally look at him with a twinkle in your eyes and he feels the need to adjust the tent growing in his pants.

"where'd this idea come from, sweetheart?"

"well, i was seeing a guy a while ago who acted really weird when i told him i was still a virgin then when i told storm and jean, they told me that if i'm ready to do it, than it should be with someone i trust." you explain so innocently to him. "i just figured since you've always been so gentle with me and i trust you, i was kinda hoping you wouldn't mind."

never in his wildest dreams could logan have imagined this happening. you sitting pretty on his bed, practically begging him to take your virginity. god, logan couldn't even remember the last time he was with a virgin. must've been decades ago.

"that's real sweet, dollface. 'f course i'll do it." he says, watching your smile grow with excitement. "first i need to know what you've already done."

"i've kissed while sitting in someone's lap, given a hickey twice... maybe three times? some nights i'll rub myself against one of my pillows."

even though he knew the answer, he had to ask, "ever fingered yourself?"

"no." you shake your head, almost making logan moan at just the thought of being the first person to do that to you.

"want to try it?"

"s-sure but i thought we were gonna–"

"we will." logan assures. "need to get you loosened up first if you want me to fit inside of you."

a small gasp exists your lips, making him chuckle. logan leans in, testing the waters to see how you kiss. he's a bit shocked by how you pull him closer to deepen it. you moan into his mouth while your hands roam his hair. he sits you in his lap and lets you grind yourself on top of him, showing him what you know.

"let's see if you're nice and wet for me." logan hums, lifting up your nightgown and feeling the wet spot over your underwear. "very good, dollface."

without thinking, you let out a tiny moan next to his ear because of his praise. he can't help but pull your head from its hiding spot in his neck to look at you.

"you like when i tell you how good you're being for me?" he ask, watching your face contort as your hips keep moving. one of his hands rests on your waist, stopping you from moving. "c'mon, you can tell me."

"mhm..." you nod. "love when you praise me."

suddenly, your back is pressed flat against his sheets as he kisses all down your body. leaving little marks here and there until he reaches the waist band of your pretty pink underwear.

"did you wear these just for me, princess?" he asks, placing a kiss right over the cotton covering your button.

"y-you said i looked p-pretty in pink."

as the words stumble out of your mouth, logan feels a warmth spread across his heart. a couple months ago, you were wearing a new pink dress and as logan passed you by, he mentioned how pretty you looked in the color. it meant a lot to you.

"you still do." he says. "can i take these off of you, baby?"

you nod, lifting your hips a little to help him. logan tosses the pink cotton somewhere behind him. lifting up the nightgown to your tummy, eyes glued to the spot in between your legs.

"didn't think you could get any prettier." logan mumbles to himself.

his intense gaze made you feel a bit vulnerable, trying to close your legs but his large hands stop you.

"don't hide from me, princess." he says, capturing your attention. " 'm gonna make you feel good."

logan carefully drags his thumb through your slit, collecting the arousal and circling it around your button. the feather like touch sends your head back and whimpers to fall from your lips. gently, logan pushes his middle finger past your velvet walls, groaning once you clench around him.

"atta girl, princess." he smirks watching you swallow up his finger. "takin' it so good."

logan watches in awe as your head fall back and the arch in your back. slowly he inches his face closer and licks a thick stripe up your fold before sucking softly on your button. you feel logan muffle 'fuck' against you, only resulting in more arousal to spill out of you.

"o-oh, logan." you moan, hips chasing his tongue feverishly.

since this was your first time, logan went easy on you, not making you work for your orgasm. he feels your cunt clench down on his one finger as it hits deep inside of you until you are seeing stars. with logan's other free hand, he paws at your tit and rolls it in his palm.

"need m-more!" you whimper with glossy eyes and lips. "p-please, lo."

in an attempt to give you what you want, logan struggles to hit another finger inside of you. he wasn't sure what he did to deserve this type of heaven but god, was he thankful for it.

"i can't, sweetheart." he groans, kissing your hip bone as he speeds up the finger inside of you. "you're too tight for two of my fingers. there's no way i'll be able to fit inside of you tonight."

before you could whine in protest, this indescribable wave of euphoria washes over you. smooth silky legs wrap tightly around logan's head. thighs covers his ears, blocking out the sweet sounds you were making. logan goes back to sloppily making out with your cunt until you weakly pull him off and drag him up to your lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

"thanks, lo." you smile in a daze at him.

"anytime." he says. "i think you'll need another lesson soon though if you want to take all of me. do you want that, princess?"

he could feel your heart rate increase eagerly. you blush intensely and avoid his gaze as you nod.

"alright." he chuckles darkly. "but first, you gotta show me how you get off on your pillow."

[m1dn1ght-r0t]

Eyes Wrapped in Wool

Yandere! (ex) husband x amnesiac! fem reader

TW: manipulation, toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of (potential) forced imprisonment, coercion A/N: pretty sure amnesia doesn't work this way (i'm no medical professional) but pls suspend disbelief for the sake of the plot ahahah

Your husband never expected things to turn out this way. But by some stroke of luck—or perhaps divine intervention—you ended up bed-ridden in the ICU, suffering from multiple bone fractures and a terrible, oh-so-terrible, traumatic brain injury. Just last week you were talking his ear off about how you've had enough. How you were done with him controlling what you could wear or who you could see, his suffocating clinginess that devolved into explosive rages when you spent time focusing on work or with friends instead of with him, the negging, the snooping, the smashed plates... Jesus Christ. You just never knew when to shut the fuck up, did you? At some point he had stopped listening. Chalked off your dramatic tirade as nothing more than you acting up because of your period—merely white noise. How many times have you guys had this same broken record conversation? Yeah, he knew this marriage wasn't smooth-sailing. If it were, you'd be less opinionated, less bitchy, more pliant, more dutiful. But what relationship was ever perfect? So, he waited for you to run out of steam, as you inevitably do, before adding salt to the wound:

“You know baby, if you weren’t parading around in those slutty clothes of yours and acted your grown age for once, I wouldn’t be behaving that way.”

The scrunch of disbelief mixed with disgust on your face only spurred him to double down. “And maybe if you actually committed to this marriage like a devoted wife would, rather than prioritize your career and practically everyone over me—your husband, need I remind you—then we wouldn’t be having these issues. Ever considered that, hm?” He purposely dragged out his words, a patronizing lilt to his tone, in hopes of reminding that thick, dumb skull of yours that he always knew best.

It wasn't until you had thrusted the divorce papers in his face that he grew silent, the severity of the situation beginning to creep in. ...What? You couldn't actually be serious... right? This was just some lover's spat. A temporary blip that'd be smoothed over with a few intentionally placed saccharine words and hot make-up sex. Like always. So why the fucking theatrics? Are you really gonna be a bitch about this and d— When you slammed the front door shut with your packed bags in tow, leaving him to stew in your parting words—that you deserved better, so much better than him, and that if he didn't sign the papers, he'd be hearing from your lawyer—did the gravity of it all finally sink in. By the end of the week, your voicemail was battered by his countless furious messages. Are you done being a flighty little piece of shit, huh? What the fuck do you think you're doing? I swear to god, baby, I'm gonna drag your ass back here. And if I have to lock you in some basement and chain your hands and legs so you'd never think to leave me again, then so fucking be it. Divorce? Yeah right. Over my dead fucking body. Then came an unknown call. It was like whiplash, really, to first hear that you had been involved in a major car crash, and then, upon rushing to the hospital at neck-breaking speed— "I'm afraid she has retrograde amnesia", the doctor solemnly informed him. He could cry. Oh, he could fucking cry.

On the outside, anyone could see how distraught he was, his hands trembling as he processed the diagnosis, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Poor husband that he was, having almost lost his beloved wife in a freak accident, he now had to deal with the news that she didn't remember who he was. Inside, however, raged a war he couldn't reconcile: what was harder? Holding back the tears, or pretending those very tears were out of sadness rather than pure, unbridled joy? Because what this neatly packaged situation had presented him with was a do-over, a chance to mend the broken marriage teetering on the cusp of divorce. And like hell he's about to let you throw away a three-year connection like some ungrateful cunt when he loves you so, very much.

~

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

As he walks up beside your hospital bed, he can't help but revel at how vulnerable you look. The slight furrow in your brows hinting at your confusion, the way you curl in on yourself as if to protect yourself from who is no doubt a complete stranger in your eyes, and your meek "Who are you?"—a far cry from the usual feisty, snarky attitude you used to dish out.

But perhaps most rewarding of all is the tentative gaze you offer him, eyes filled with a sort of curious glimmer, free from the hostility, disappointment, and hurt you'd flashed his way. You didn't look at him with hate. You simply want to know who he is.

Oh, aren't you precious? He'll gladly feed you his carefully spun narrative until you're full of nothing but adoring love for him—the embers of your thoughts about divorce and leaving him snuffed out for good.

"I know how confusing all of this must be for you. Take all the time you need. I'll be right here with you, as your husband, helping you fill the gaps, okay baby?" He delivers this with as much patience as he can muster, softening the edges of his words to avoid spooking you. But you're not soothed. If anything, you're more overwhelmed than ever. "M-my husband?" You echo, tasting the foreign word, sticky like warm toffee on your tongue.

"And...and my family? Where are they?" Your disorientation is a sight for sore eyes; how badly he wants to devour you right now. “Dead,” he intones, a script he’d been desperate to act out ever since you said your vows. The jarring news pulls a barely audible whimper from you, your eyes widening a fraction.

Shit. Too cold. Too careless.

His expression softens, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a facsimile of sorrow as he injects a note of pity into his voice. “They died when you were very young, you see. I’m sorry.” He’s really not.

"What…? How could that be? So my p-parents, they're both—" Your breath hitches, tears welling at the corner of your eyes.

At that, he gently grabs your bandaged arm, wanting to comfort you. But when you flinch slightly, he has to resist the urge to snap at you—Oh, cry me a river. Who the fuck cares?? I'm right here, aren't I? I'm right here, damnnit, so look at me!

Instead, he tempers the resentment that's still fresh in his heart after the divorce stunt you'd pulled by reminding himself that he's supposed to be your kind and gentle partner.

So he settles for cradling your hand in both of his like it's fine china, grazing his lips over your fingertips. "But you have me, sweetheart. And I'm not going anywhere."

He half expects you to question his story—it wasn’t very convincing, even to his own ears—prepared to be barraged by your endless streams of “No, you’re wrong!”, “I don’t believe you!” or some other similar outburst.

But when all you do is gaze up at him with cinched brows, seeking reassurance, blinking at him so sweetly with your hand still snugly warmed in his, he pauses. That’s it? No suspicion, no skepticism, no outburst? Hah! He has to physically restrain himself from snorting because how fucking easy can this get?

Maybe the collision had completely scrambled your brains, rewired you to be more stupid, a little slower—exactly how he likes you.

"You trust me, right?"

And when he feels that subtle twitch of your fingers—what he gathers is your attempt at squeezing his hand back for confirmation—accompanied by the sight of your small, almost shy nod, he breaks out into a giddy smile at how utterly adorable you’re being.

Fuck, it’s hard not to already feel high off these micro-doses of innocence and receptiveness from you. Emboldened by your intoxicatingly sweet naivety, he dares to be a little greedier, creeping to perch on the edge of your bed, his hand now moving to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how worried sick I was when I got the call. I thought you had…” He trails off, his implication clear. His face is mere inches from yours now, breaths as featherlight as his fingertips mapping every divot on your face.

“I love you.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip, the act agonizingly slow. “So, so, so much.” Each whisper spills out heavier than the last, mirroring the increasing pressure of his thumb—your lip almost bruising from how hard he’s pinching them.

How long has it been? He can’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of your touch, your skin… eons too long without your pillowy lips pressed against his has left him completely starved.

“You can’t leave me…” A murmur too quiet to pick up. His gaze, now half-lidded, drifts downward in a drunken daze. “My wife. My good little wife. You love me too, right?”

Without warning, he leans in to close the minuscule gap.

And it’s all too fast and soon because you can feel the suffocating heat of his proximity, the chilling shared breath floating between the tight space. It’s all too much. So, in the last second, you hesitate, pulled from your stupor as you turn your head away.

But he’s not having it. Not when you’re already in the palm of his hand and he’s so fucking close. When he can already taste the opportunity to finally take out the trash and parasites leeching off you, to call up that godforsaken shithole you call a stable, steady-paying job and quit on your behalf, to have you all to himself—a blank slate to knock up with several kids and mold into the perfect little housewife he's always wanted you to be. God, he's already hard at the thought.

Grabbing your jaw firmly, he jerks your face back towards him, thumb roughly wedging between your lips and prying your mouth open.

“Baby.” The endearment spills out, sharp and cold, stripped of any warmth it might've once held.

His gentle veneer cracks ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, you see something else. A flicker beneath the mask—raw, ugly, messy. It gnaws at the edges of your mind, dredging up something you can’t quite grasp. A memory?

“Gimme a small kiss, hmm?” Despite the smile on his face, there is no kindness to it. Just a twisted caricature warning you that you shouldn’t push further.

All of a sudden you feel like you can’t breathe, weighed down by the unsettling intensity of his stare. The man in front of you—the one claiming he's your husband and calling you “baby,” the one touching you—feels wrong. He’s a stranger, you remind yourself. An almost involuntary shiver runs down your spine, like your body remembers something your mind refuses to.

At this point, your husband has caught on to your rather obvious spiralling. He’s not an idiot—he can see your doubt giving way to panic. He contemplates smoothing things over by playing nice, but the selfish part of him ultimately wins.

He squeezes your jaw, nails biting into your skin.

“Kiss me.”

It isn’t a request this time.

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  another collection of smutty dialogue for you heathens (affectionate). please do not interact if you are under eighteen. feel free to edit and change how you seem fit. )

❛ i know my worth. and if you want me, you'll do as i say. ❜

❛ you don't want me here? then why does your body say otherwise? ❜

❛ oh? does that turn you on? ❜

❛ you look good on your knees like this. ❜

❛ i'm not jealous. you're just mine. ❜

❛ i need you. please. i'll be quick. ❜

❛ you used to hate me, and now you can't take your eyes off me. ❜

❛ you want me quiet? make me. ❜

❛ i know you have one more for me. come on, i'm not done yet. ❜

❛ fuck, that was so hot. ❜

❛ such a good boy/girl. making me feel this good. ❜

❛ go on. fuck yourself on my cock. ❜

❛ you have no idea how long i've thought about having you like this. ❜

❛ keep the noise down, baby. you're too loud. ❜

❛ you taste so fucking good. ❜

❛ they can't fuck you like i can. ❜

❛ fuck, i've missed you. ❜

❛ keep going. just like that. ❜

❛ they don't get to have you like this, but i do. ❜

❛ pretty good, huh? i told you i'd make you feel good. ❜

❛ you're mine. and don't you forget it. ❜

❛ i'm not gonna last long if you tighten up like that, sweetheart. ❜

❛ what, got nothing to say? no matter, i'll have you screaming in no time. ❜

❛ just a little more. you can take a little more, can't you? ❜

❛ getting close? don't worry, i'll take care of you. ❜

❛ what would they think if they could see you now, huh? ❜

❛ maybe i should put my dick in your mouth so you'll shut up. ❜

❛ maybe if i sit on your face, that'll shut you up. ❜

❛ look at how well you take me. even though it's been so long. ❜

❛ it's apparent in your eyes — you desire me. ❜

❛ don't stop. please, don't stop. ❜

❛ fucking doesn't involve this much talking normally. ❜

❛ you want this, don't you? want me all over you? inside you? ❜

❛ don't forget who you belong to. ❜

❛ if you want something, then you ask for it. ❜

❛ when was the last time someone fucked you? ❜

❛ i'll make us feel good. you'll love this. ❜

❛ how was that? satisfying enough for you? ❜

❛ oh no, i'm not finished with you yet. ❜

❛ what, afraid i might break you? ❜

❛ what, afraid you'll break me? ❜

❛ stop teasing and just put it in already. ❜

❛ fuck me harder. don't you want to make me feel good? ❜

❛ that's it, babygirl. ❜

❛ you want me to sit on your face? ❜

❛ i want this. let me have you like this. ❜

❛ now that you've given me what i want, i can give you what you need. ❜

❛ don't just stand there, you tease. come here and let me taste. ❜

❛ i want you like you used to have me. like we had nothing else to live for. ❜

❛ how do you want me — spread out on the bed or up against the wall? take your pick. i don't mind. ❜

[bluetimeombre]

˚ · . Nothing fucks with my baby, ˚ · .

You are Hugh's young controversial girlfriend

[FINALLY! it's here, I have kept you all waiting, I hope I haven't disappointed! I said in the other posts that I wasn't gonna do much smut but I think I went more than even I thought. Got me blushing and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy, I'm still riding this Hugh train (want to be riding him) who said that?]

warnings: older man! younger reader! fem!reader. Not proof read. Smut! Penetration, riding, oral (both receiving) praise kink,

Only a bed separated you and Hugh.

"Ok, so we're gonna pick it up from where we left it last time," said the director. "Get ready."

Hugh was in black clad trousers, shirtless, 'sweat' that was really water sprayed. His hair was already messy, perfectly so as if you'd been running your hands through it.

You still had a robe on, your makeup artist touching the highlight to be 'sweat' while Hugh watches every sway of the brush on your cheeks.

The scene was this: Hugh's character seduces yours. Well, there was seduction on both ends, characters or not. It was the first kiss, the first sex scene, the first true intimacy between your two characters. It was hot, heavy, sensual and loving. It was supposed to be all gripping hands and racing pulses, moving bodes and fumbling lips.

But it was the first kiss scene you'd share with Hugh. There'd be plenty more to come, but the director thought it would capture the true emotions of your characters to get it first try.

"Yummy," whispered your makeup artist in your ear as she leant over, slowly un-doing the ties of your robe.

"Play nice," you mutter to her.

"You don't," she winked before parting with your robe, leaving you in your silk nightgown that fell mid-thigh.

Hugh gulped, his eyes raking over you as you smiled. Your nerves were sky high, but Hugh seemed already in character.

He played the groundskeeper in 1930's Britain, best friend of your 'father', playing blackmail and seducing his daughter. You. And boy was it easy for Hugh Jackman to seduce you.

The cast and crew had been great at making the both of you comfortable and you'd all been for dinners, lunch's, cast parties, yoga sessions. They'd done everything to make it comfortable. And it had worked. You and Hugh got on like a house on fire, always around, always laughing. But there were the lingering looks once the laughter died, or the 'goodnights' that lasted longer than appropriate, and the touches, the constant excuse for it.

Maybe it was because you were young, alluring to a man not long divorced from an almost thirty year marriage. Maybe it was because he was everything you ever wanted, but you had a feeling lines were going to be crossed. The pit in your stomach was either dread... or desire.

"Right, all set?" the director asked.

Hugh smiled, patted his thighs and nodded.

You flashed a smile too but wiped your palms down your dress, un-knowingly shuffling it on your chest.

Hugh caught the movement and gulped. He was screwed.

"Action!"

You watched as Hugh, in character, stalked toward you. As scripted, you took a step back, hitting the bedpost but kept his gaze. You were a headstrong character, and you could do that, even if your knees felt weak.

"You er, get dressed for me, pretty girl?" he asked. He slipped his fingers through the strap, fingers caressing your skin.

Your shiver wasn't scripted and as Hugh's eyes flickered to your own, you wondered if he knew that. "You should go."

"Your pa's not home."

"My mother is," you whispered, standing taller on the bed post as if you weren't afraid.

He smirked and dragged the strap down until he could see your bare shoulder. His eyes flickered back up to yours. "Wendy's a nice woman. She doesn't expect much."

A furrow in your brows, as planned. "How dare you-"

Hugh kissed you with such force your head came back to hit the bedpost but his hand was already cupping the back of your head, easing the thump as he pressed you against it.

It wasn't scripted.

His lips were as soft as they looked, mixed with the gruffness of his stubbly beard that dragged over your chin as he dived into you like a man starved of breath. You obeyed his every move, every tilt of his head you followed.

His teeth sunk into your lip and your gasped. His tongue dipped in, meeting yours gently asking for permission.

You grabbed his cheeks, drawing back enough to get a look at him. There was a wild frenzy in his eyes causing them to go darker, but beneath that you saw his concern, his worry that he'd gone to far.

Whether this was acting or not, you didn't care.

You drew him back in, lips smacking as passion pulled both your strings. He groaned as you obeyed him, body flattening against yours.

His hands raked down your shoulders, taking the straps with you as you gasp and shiver. The gown wasn't supposed to come off but at that rate, you didn't care if it slipped a little. Hugh's hands moved down your sides, to your hips, gripping the material and bunching it.

"You," he gasped against your lips.

He met your gaze and you smirked, challenging him. Luckily, it could all work in character.

You had no knickers or anything on. It was all to easy to see the line in the dress if you did.

Hugh groaned and brought your head back to his, tongue wasting no time in sweeping into your mouth, tasting every corner and marking it as your own.

He spun you around until he was against the bed, his knees buckling and falling, you in his lap.

He groaned into your mouth, loud enough for the microphone above you to hear. Your lips paused on his, hands crawling into his hair as you felt it.

He was hard, so incredibly hard.

Hugh's eyes were scrunched shut as you backed away a fraction, his tongue licking at his lips for a taste of you. Your hair was starting to stick to your head from real sweat.

His trousers were pulled over his crotch, highlighting the size of him as your mouth watered and your thighs tightened on him. His gaze was hooded as he watched you in silent awe.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you pressed yourself against him, feeling every ridge through the tiny fabric of your nightgown. God, he couple feel every warmth of you. How much you wanted him.

He pecked your lips and brought your bottom lip out with his teeth. From the cameras and the lights and the amount of people in the room, the sweat on the two of you started to be real, mixed with your pants and soft moans that weren't necessary for the scene but needed to pass between the two of you.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shoulders as your rocked yourself onto him, grinding onto his clothed crotch to feel something.

Hugh kept one hand on the back of your neck, occasionally drifting into your hair and tugging with every rock of your hips.

You wondered if the director would ever call cut and you hoped he never would. If it all ended here. Your only consoling thought was the amount of intimacy scene's you and Hugh would have to share together.

He grabbed you and rolled you over as planned until you were flat, chest heaving with breaths and he was kneeling over you. His hands went to his belt, twiddling to undo it.

In a frenzy of passion, your hands reached out to help, grazing his bulge. He watched you as he finally un did the belt and your nails scraped down his thighs.

Hugh loomed over you, grinding down into your cunt until he could feel how wet you were, his lips coming to your shoulder. He didn't have to bite, but he seemed satisfied with it.

"Cut!" called the director.

Your hands halted where they were in his hair and Hugh fell against you, caging you to the bed as you both panted.

"Well done, guys, that was great, you got it over and done with. Now for the rest of them, but that'll come gradual," said the director as both Hugh's and your team came to the bed.

Still, neither of you moved.

"Gradual, yeah," you panted, your hands still stroking back Hugh's hair until you realised what you were doing.

Hugh kissed your shoulder once before rolling from you and taking the robe offered to him. You took things slower, knees weak at just the memory of him.

You took the robe and wrapped yourself up.

Hugh glanced back at you, not once, twice.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

You’d thought about it all day. Even as you half-heartedly did the rest of the scenes for the day. Your head was only half on set, the other half focused on the feel of Hugh under you.

In your trailer that night you played your music, gripping your hair in one hand and riding your hand with the other, trying to re-make the magic of feeling him under you.

God, how wrong it was. He was your costar. Old enough to be your father and your celebrity crush for god knows how long. You couldn’t be with him even if you wanted to, he’d probably leave the project if he knew how you’d watched every semi pornographic scene with him in it just to get yourself off.

The knock on your trailer altered you.

Quickly you pushed yourself from bed and wiped your fingers on your shorts, rushing to answer the door.

Hugh’s hands were braced on either side of your trailer door, panting as if he’d ran a matharon before turning up at your step.

“Hugh,” you smiled, desperate to act casual. “What’s up?”

He sighed, staring at you dreamily. He didn’t wait for an invite in. “I thought we could practice, some more.”

You looked up at him. You must have looked a mess, flushed cheeks and devilish hair, but he didn’t look much better. He was in a casual top, black sweatpants low on his v-line.

Daring to peak, you could see the indent. He was still hard.

Your thighs clenched in together from the overwhelming heat. “Yeah, of course.”

You sat next to Hugh on the sofa where you’d left your last script. Your thigh against his, his finger grazing your knee.

You cleared your throat, trying to read when all you could do was bask in every little touch from him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” said Hugh. His eyes were on you, script forgotten.

Glancing from him to the script, you flicked a page. “I don’t- where does it say-”

With a rough hand, he tilted your jaw to him until your lips were a hairs breath away. His tongue flicked out, darting over your lips, begging. “Honey, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You gulped, mouth opening for breath or for him, you couldn’t tell which was more important. A hand crept up to cradle the back of his head. “I can’t tell if we’re practicing or not, Hugh.”

His head rested against yours as he moved it side to side. “Whatever gets you to fall in love with me.”

His eyes met yours.

“As if you even have to try.”

Your lips were soft and mouth wide as you received him, tongue gracing his mouth as he grabbed your hips to pull you on top of him, the script crinkling between the two of you. Your hands were in his hair, grown longer for the part, then raking down his neck then over his shirt until you were gripping it in your hands, pulling him closer to you while you lost air.

Hugh pulled back enough to kiss your jaw, biting at the skin.

“Is this-“ you gasped, holding onto his shoulders. Your thoughts weren’t working, nothing was. All you could think was him, his hands on your hips.

Hugh's lips reluctantly dragged away from your skin, as if he'd die to be parted. "Is it what baby?" when he saw your concern, his desire dimmed. All he wanted was for you to be alright. "Tell me," he brushed back your hair, thumb pulling down your bottom lip, after all, he still needed you like you might die tomorrow.

You sat back on his lap, trying to distract yourself from the dampness in your pants. "Is this real?"

"Doesn't it feel real to you?" he laughed, rocking himself into you.

"Is this Hugh?" you whispered, "or just your character."

His eyes softened. Hugh cradled your cheeks, holding you to look at him. "This is me and you, honey. I-I know this all seems sudden, and we can stop if you want-"

"I'm not saying that," you quickly cut him off as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your neck. You wanted him, even if it meant heartbreak for you later.

He pulled back and looked up at you. "This is me wanting you. As y/n. As whatever you will give me. As my love, as my baby. As- as everything i've been thinking about for months. As everything I've been waiting for, baby," his thumb smoothed over your cheekbones as you nuzzled into his palms. "If i've made you feel like i'm using you i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, but this is real to me."

You glance up at him. Your lips press a kiss into his palm as you hold his hand to you. "Good," you mutter. You adjust yourself, settling down on his lap again until his clothed erection is begging for your wetness. "Because this is real to me too."

Hugh growled and kissed you, all tongue and teeth as he sort to get every piece of you in one. His arms, strong and large, wrapped around your back and held you into him until even when you pulled away to breathe, your breath was full of him.

With his strength, he pushed you down on your sofa, throwing the script behind him and pulling your legs until they were thrown on either side of his hips. He was lucky you were still in costume, your dress riding up to reveal your white panties, with a damp spot.

Hugh lied down, looking at your pussy as his one hand held down your hips, the other crawling up your chest to squeeze your breasts. "This real? This all for me, honey?"

"Yes," you gasp, running your hands through his hair as his salt and pepper beard scraped your thighs.

"You want me?"

"Yes, Hugh."

"How badly?"

"So, so badly," you whisper, eyes shut as his breath fans where you need him most. "Please baby, please."

He kissed over your panties. "So polite, honey. So good for me." He licked a stripe up, letting his tongue swirl over your clit.

Your back arches. As he repeated the motion before hooking his fingers through the band and slowly- agonisingly slowly- pulling down your panties and the scrunching them up in his hand.

He moaned at the sight of you dripping before him. How he had you panting by the smallest touches. You were his to touch. To ruin. To taint with him and only him. "Thought about this cunt of yours more than should be allowed."

You chuckle, propping yourself up to indulge in the sinful image of him between your thighs. "Yeah? Thought about it too."

"Tell me," he said. His eyes were on yours as he peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, fingers indented into your flesh.

You moan, eyes fluttering shut. You think of every crude images you'd conjured in your mind. Him suffocating between your thighs, you sitting on his face, riding that perfect arched nose. Your mouth stuffed with his cock as he eats you out. Riding him. Up against a wall. Every filthy thing, you wanted to do with him. "Thought about your tongue, your cock, fingers, nose."

He laughed, glancing up at you. "My nose, huh?"

You chuckle with him, falling back and throwing your arms over your face. The laughter catches in your throat when you feel his tongue dive into your folds, the warmth spreading. You moan, legs going to close if it weren't for Hugh tapping them.

"Keep them open baby," his voice was rough in demand as he focused on you. On tasting you, on spreading your folds with his fingers- sliding them in and out to get a feel, as he shoved his tongue in depths you didn't know he could.

You bite down on the back of your hand, but your cry is barley muffled. "Fuck, baby."

Hugh eats you like he's starved man. He moans into your cunt, sending vibrations through your body that he receive gladly. It goes through him like you're one person. He finds himself grinding down on the sofa like a teenage boy. That's what you're doing to him, making him focus on you and not cumming before stuffing you with him.

"Hugh, I'm-" you mutter all too quickly.

"God, can't wait to taste you cum on my tongue, honey," he said. "You want my nose huh?" He stuffs his face into your pussy, tongue flicking up and down your folds as he nudges his nose on your clit repeatedly until he has your thighs shaking.

"Hugh!" you moan, holding onto his shoulder to stabilise yourself.

Hugh slides his fingers into you, using your wetness to his advantage as he continues to work you with his tongue. He slobbers, spitting down your folds and fingers as he works it into you, groaning at the sight. "Can't wait to feel this around me. God, I wanted you on my cock so bad, with the camera's watching, with the crew. Want them all to know an old man like me can have you falling in love."

"Always," you gasp, focusing on the warmth in your stomach and Hugh's fingers curling inside of you. "Want you to take me. Use me. Have me."

Hugh flattens himself against your sofa, groaning, eyes rolling in the back of his head like it's your mouth warm against is cock. He grips your hand that was on his shoulder and holds it until his fingers bleach white from the grip. He rests it on your sternum, looking up at you.

Wisps of your hair stick to your forehead, your chest spilling out the dress and rising and falling as your body trembles. You hold his hand just as tight, if not, tighter.

"Cum on my lips baby, please," he begged. "Want to taste you. Want to make you cum."

It took little more encouragement from you before you came on his tongue, gasping and grasping as you did. Hugh ate it up, licking the mess from your pussy and your lips. It has him quivering and knowing he'll need this taste every day just to keep him sane.

"Hugh?"

He glances back up at you. Your pink cheeks and wide eyes. He grins, licking his lips and wiping your juice from the corner of his lips and licking it from his fingers as he crawls back over you. He nudges his nose against yours and grins at your smile. "That was amazing."

"You're saying it like you just had the best orgasm of your life," you laugh.

His brows rose. "Best orgasm of your life, huh? I can give you plenty more where that came from?"

You smirk, running your hand from his chest to between his legs, rubbing your hand over his dick that trembles at your touch. Satisfaction gnaws at you as you watch his eyes shut and jaw clench.

"Baby, almost had me cumming in my pants like a teenager," he chuckled, shakily.

You tut, sitting up to have better access to his lap. "Can't be having that."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

That's how the rest of the months of filming were spent.

At first, the two of you agreed to take it slow. Little dinner dates, grabbing coffee together and walks in the local parks. Luckily it was known you were filming together and the paps weren't too fussed.

You tried to take it slow, but the sex was anything but.

In the mornings when you were inevitably in the make up chair first thing- as the star of the movie- Hugh would join you, passing you your coffee order and breakfast before taking a seat next to you and chatting away with you and the make-up artists. Even if he wasn't shooting that day, he was there. On the dot. Every day.

Your team of people smirked knowingly even if neither of you confirmed it. But the stolen stares and kind offerings were enough. Surprisingly, nobody warned him about being with one so young and neither you him much older as he was.

Because everyone knew it was true, real love. Because first, it came from friendship.

He helped you with scenes when you asked, helping the emotions play out. Even you gave him new perspectives of looking and taking om scenes. It was refreshing. Life with you was refreshing.

The more intimate scene's became harder, oddly enough. Because you'd get to into it, the director yelling cut several times to tear your bodies from each other. Then, when you were alone at night, you jumped on Hugh, climbing him like a tree.

Sometimes you couldn't wait till night and dragged him into your dressing room, sliding down to your knees and un-doing his belt.

"Eager?" he'd tease.

You wouldn't justify him with an answer. Your hands messaging his balls and tongue licking up his cock until you had him down your throat or stuffed in your cheeks was enough for him.

At the end, you had to stop reading scripts with Hugh as his glasses perched on his nose was too much for you.

Enough times he knew that and would eat you out wearing them. And only them. You'd watch the lenses steam up as he licked and moaned in you until you were cumming over his chin, sometimes landing on his glasses.

"Honey, you're too much," he grinned and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Dinner nights after long days always ended up with your foot gently trailing up his leg in his dress pants, his hand gripping your ankle as it inched closer to his cock, finger running circles.

Hugh would have to park in the dark and pull you onto his cock, ruining your dazzling dress and tearing the seams of his trousers to have his cock free and nuzzled into you.

One of your breasts was in his mouth as you rode him, his arm wrapped around your waist and helping you move. His cock warm and throbbing inside of you.

"Oh baby," he moaned around your breast, teeth pinching at your nipple. "Grip me like a dream."

His hand gripped your ass, pushing you and pushing you, throwing his head back and groaning out as the car rocked form your hard movements. It didn't matter how many times either of you had each other, it was a constant need never satisfied. You breathed new life into him and he wanted to use it all on you.

"Hugh, I need you!" you whined out even as his cock was deep in you.

But he got it. Because it wasn't enough for him. "I know, baby, I know!" he lurched forward and kissed you as you grabbed his cheek, keeping him there. Your tongues fought as you tried to catch your breath, bouncing on his cock. He growled. You whimpered.

"Fuck me, Hugh," you told him, biting down on his earlobe as you cuddled into him, bouncing on his dick as fast as you could to reach your third high that night.

"Shit, just there- right there!" he held your hips down as his cum spluttered into you, him growling and moaning out your name like prayer. Nobody in the world had been so devoted to something like Hugh was to you.

And the balance was perfect. The next night Hugh would join you in your trailer- where most your times were spent. You were curled into his side as he was shirtless, reading. Those annoyingly attractive glasses still there as he laughed at some parts of the book and you'd ask what it had said and he'd explain it to you while his fingers twirled strands of your hair.

The next day you'd be attached to him all day, lips forming as one as the camera rolled and the director gave you pointers. It was a scene of the two of you in the garden. Both indecent (although of course following Hollywood guidelines) Hugh didn't even let you up from his lap, instead holding you there as you both acted professional and took the director's words. You could fuck him, love him and work with him all you needed.

That night, Hugh would have you on the floor of his trailer, the two of you hardly making it through the door before he had his cock in your mouth, stirring you with his hands in your hair.

"Did so good today, my good girl, working so hard for everyone," he groaned as you chocked around his cock.

You took him deep and took him out, spitting over his cock and working him with your hand. "So big," you mumbled, drunk on having him. You sucked one of his balls into your mouth, devoting attention to both of them.

"Oh, fuck, y/n, you're gonna be the death of me. God, I just know you wanted to ride me with everyone watching, could feel how wet you were."

You take his cum down your throat, licking every last drop before you both fall asleep in his bed to film together the next day.

You both walk on set, laughing, smiling, with coffee in hands and every on set watches and smirks cause they know. Maybe they don't know all the filthy things you get up to, but they can see it's more than just another hollywood controversial talk.

But Hugh is in love with you.

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii, @wolviesgirl, @haytchee, @aoi-targaryen, @apizzacalledmel, @corvusmorte, @slut4you, @ellak69, (how you're only just on the taglist no idea babe), @wolverigrl