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thatmerlinwizard13 · 2 years

Text

Under the Stars | Bruno Madrigal

18+, MINORS DNI!!

Summary: After a few months of dating, Bruno takes you to his secret hideout in Casita.

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fluff, smut, asexual, licking, swearing, soft

Word Count: 1729

“I wanna show you something.”

Bruno gently took your hand and pulled you up the staircases in his room. All of them. After a few months of dating and having become a social outcast in town, you grew weird and a little more distant, sometimes going a full day without letting go of Bruno’s hand. And he was very sweet; squeezing your hand and making sure you were okay.

There were days where you would blankly stare at the walls and didn't eat a thing. You had a small breakdown in the bathtub once where Bruno found you, soaked and wrinkled from hours in the water. "y/n?" You hadn't answered him, simply took his hand and held it to your wet cheek. He'd climbed into the bathtub with you, cleaning your back and braiding your hair until you felt calm enough to get out again. You tried to feel Bruno near as much as possible. He was your anchor - he was your haven through this all.

You climbed the stairs and for the first time in your life, you saw the opening to Bruno’s cave. “Are we going in there?” you asked him but he shook his head. To the side, there was a small hole in the ceiling, the evening wind blowing through it. You followed Bruno as he grabbed some stones and hoisted himself up on the roof. “I am actually – kind of sorry, like I always wanted to eh, to show you this place. It’s where I went when things got a little bit too much for me.”

On the roof there were several pillows and matrasses, as the view was of a million stars in the sky. You mouthed a little ‘wow’ as you sat down. The whole floor was just a soft pillow to lie down in and gaze up to the sky. “What if it rains?” You ask as you take off your sandals and sit down cross-legged on the floor. Bruno sits down behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Casita always puts a little glass roof over it whenever Pepa has had a bad day. That way, it still feels like you’re outside in the rain without actually getting wet.”

You chuckled. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“They are,” he answered after which he pointed to the sky. You followed his finger with your eyes. “Those two,” he said, “the ones that don’t shine so bright.”

You did indeed see two little stars, side by side, that were very dim and sad compared to all the other brilliant crystals shining down on you. “That’s us,” he whispered. You laughed and let your back rest against his chest. “We are pretty pathetic compared to the rest of this family.” He pressed a kiss against your neck and you let the feeling tingle through your body. “Yeah,” he chuckled as he tickled you in your side, “we’re so sad.”

You laughed and tickled him back and for a moment; you were teenagers again – tickling and laughing and playing as you rolled over the roof, throwing one pillow after the next. One landed in his face and he pretended to get knocked out. When you rushed to him to check if he was okay, he grabbed you tight and flung you around. You felt carelessly happy again, maybe the first time in months. “My name is Hernando,” he said, pitching his voice lower than it actually was. You rolled over with laughter from this persona. He raised his arms all creepily as the hood concealed his face. “I am not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anything!”

You put your face behind your shawl, looking like a mighty sorcerer, or something and laughed like an evil witch. “And my name is Nina, I’m a witch and I’m not afraid of the fearless Hernando!”

Then he attacked you, pushing you down to the ground as he pretended to eat you. You both laughed so hard, your stomach physically hurt. He had pinned you to the ground though. He had won the game. After you had laughed your laughs, Bruno also realized he had pinned you. You took his neck and pulled him nearer for a kiss. He wasn’t pulling away, instead, he let his body melt over yours, letting his fingers run through your hair as he kissed little kisses on your mouth and your eyes and your neck and – wow.

He eventually raised his arms and took off his poncho with a little struggle. You lay a hand on his leg. “What are you doing?” You asked as he also unbuttoned his shirt with fidgeting hands. He stopped with what he’s doing and looks at you questioningly. “I just – I thought that-”

“But are you sure?” You ask him. He’s expressed multiple times that he doesn’t need it. That he’s fine without all of that in our relationship. You feel your ears turning red. He nods softly. “I feel like – I don’t know. I want you to see me. Without boundaries or something.” He sniffed. “I’m just eh… I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

He strokes your face and you stroke his after which you climb out from under him and take the position he had over you. His giant eyes watch you intently as you take off your dress. You both feel it, the electricity in the stars and between you. You lean forward and kiss him like he kissed you, on his eyes, his mouth – you bit his ear slightly. You have no idea what you’re doing either, but after lots of fumbling and giggles, you unbuckle his belt and help him pull down his pants. “You’re so pretty,” you whisper, the words making him whine as he fixed his eyes on everything you were doing. You knew he loved those little compliments, had him eating right out of your palm.

“y/n,“ he almost whined, rutting up against you as your fingers trailed along the waist band of his underpants. His fingers ghosted over yours, a testing press that made you gasp. “So wet,“ he said mostly to himself. You helped him tug down the last scraps of clothing and took off yours as he sat upright, instantly kissing you again once you were near. You sat on his lap, letting your fingers curl through his hair as he nudged his leg up against your now bare cunt as you rocked against him.

“Bruno“ you said breathlessly, pulling away and holding his face in your hands “need you. Need you right now.“

That breathy whimper left his lips again and it seemed to urge him forward. He turned you over with far too much care but you’d expect nothing less from him, before hoisting you up on a square-like couch in the corner. You shivered slightly, the cool untouched fabric of the pillows a stark contrast to the warmth of his lap.

His lips were on you again, but only briefly.

“Can I taste you? “ he asked, eyes wide and practically pleading. You almost moaned just at the idea, nodding perhaps a little too enthusiastically at his request.

“Yes. Yes Bruno please…” He pressed another kiss to your lips before dropping onto his knees, never letting his hands leave you. He pulled you to the edge of the couch and carefully pushed your legs apart.

His eyes didn’t leave you once as he pressed soft, wet kisses to your thighs. You clenched around nothing just at the sight. This man would be the death of you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he drew closer, his own hot breath fanning over you and making you shiver again. His fingers carefully spread you apart, his nose brushing against your clit. Your head fell back with a soft whine.

“Bruno…“ he was still watching you intently as he licked a slow stripe between your folds, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from your mouth.

“So good,” he mumbled against you, confidence seemingly drowning him as he began to devour you as if you were his final meal. He’d never done this before, you’d never felt this before. But it was heavenly. You were now quite certain that to please you, he’d quite happily give you orgasm after orgasm without even bothering about himself. He’d go at it for hours, making you come over and over until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck- Bruno-” you gasped, hands sliding into his hair and tugging on his curls.

When he slowly slid a finger into you, you moaned so loud they probably heard you two floors down, even more so when a second quickly followed. You quickly slammed one hand against your own lips. His mouth was still preoccupied with your clit, and the mix of his tongue and his thick fingers curling up inside of you was too much. You could never get anything going with your own fingers, but his were magic. “Mi amore,” you whined. “So close.”

He curled his fingers again, hitting the perfect spot that was your undoing and barely a minute later you were coming. Hard. You clenched your thighs around his head, moans and sighs loudly falling from your throat. Bruno continued to lap at you gently, helping to ride you though it and make sure every single second lasted as long as possible.

“¿Estás bien?”

You gave a small laugh and nodded. You ran a hand over his hair and then nudged your fingers under his chin and scratchy beard, urging him to stand again. He stood up from the floor and pulled you along. He kissed you, making you moan into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Shower?“ He asked as you lay your forehead on his shoulder, his small figure perfect for the gesture. “Yeah,” you breathed, your body still tingling with sensation. This was perfect. He was perfect.

Bruno grabbed a big blanket from the floor and tried to lift you into his arms, failing miserably. “Come here,” you said as you offered him a place under the blanket with you. He put one arm over your shoulder and held the other side of the blanket with his free hand.

This way, you both tiptoed to the bathroom with a million whispered I love you’s on the way.

_______________________________________________

My Masterlist

#bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #smut #soft #softsmut #bruno madrigal encanto #Encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto smut #bruno madrigal smut #disney #bruno x reader #encanto x reader #encanto bruno x reader

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take-taker-taken · 11 months

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You’ve summoned me to put in an ask 🤭

Hbtaker fluff? Any concept you like <3

You’re saving my life with the ask! So, I don’t know if this is quite fluffy enough, but the boys both seemed to be in a flippant mood so here are a few peeks into HbTaker-Land…

Demon Drink

Taker sets the polish to one side as he admires the gleaming tank of the Harley and then looks over at the door, wondering whether Shawn is within bellowing distance.

“Hey, babe!”

Turns out he is, because a second later the answer comes back, “You OK?”

“Yeah, I’m nearly done - just wondering whether you could bring me a drink in here, else I’m gonna get workshop grime all over.” It’s an exaggeration but hey, Shawn is nearer the kitchen.

“Sure can, honey - what do you want?”

Taker contemplates and then smirks as he calls back, “Something as dark as my unforgiving soul.” He even puts on a bit of his performance voice, just for effect and hears Shawn bark out a laugh - the sound makes him smile.

“Coming right up!”

He leans back against the wall - a freshly-polished bike and waiter service for a glass of Jack - nice. Half a minute later Shawn walks in holding a glass and Taker folds his arms with a pout.

“What is that?”

Shawn feigns surprise as he looks from the glass in his hand back to his husband. “It’s what you asked for, honey.”

“It’s a glass of milk.”

With a wink and a smile Shawn nods, blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he sets the drink down and runs away, giggling.

————

Never Let Me Go

Shawn stands at the kitchen counter, staring out the window at the scenery when he suddenly feels arms wrap around him from behind. For such a big guy, Taker sure can move quietly when he wants to.

“Mmm, there he is.” The voice at his ear is gravelly and the arms squeeze a bit, one around his waist and the other across his chest. Instant comfort and safety.

“Been looking for me?” The blonde tips his head back against Taker’s shoulder and raises an arm up so that he can rest his hand on the back of the larger man’s neck.

“Only my whole life,” comes the reply and Shawn gasps quietly as lips start to place nipping kisses along his jawline and down on to his neck. He can’t help squirming in the tight hold and he openly moans as Taker’s lips really fasten on to his pulse point, sucking rhythmically.

“What you gonna do now you’ve got me?” He succeeds finally in wriggling all the way around and puts his own arms around his husband’s waist, smiling up at him.

Green eyes twinkle down and Taker drops a kiss on to the tip of Shawn’s nose, followed quickly by a smooch to his forehead.

“I’m never going to let you go.”

————

Bedtime Story-ish

“Come on honey, it’s time for bed.” Shawn stands up for a stretch and then fixes the throw pillows.

“Yeah, I’ll be along in a minute.” Taker mumbles, not even looking up from whatever leather bound, doom-laden tome he’s reading. Shawn crosses his arms and plants his feet.

“Not doing this again - three times this week you’ve been up until stupid o’clock with your face buried in that thing! It’s not healthy to go without sleep, so c’mon.” He pulls on Taker’s shoulder but the big man barely sways.

“‘S interesting,” he protests and then when this justification goes unanswered he looks up and finds Shawn unbuttoning his shirt. “What are you doing?”

The blonde gives Taker a look that suggests his husband is stupefyingly dim to even ask but deigns to reply anyway. “I figured I’d show you some of what you’re missing if you stay here, compared to joining me.

Taker’s brow furrows as he tries to balance this against Shawn’s initial argument about lack of sleep. “So you’re… trying to seduce me into healthier sleep patterns?”

Shawn sighs dramatically and throws his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Oh, in the name of all that shines…” Summoning patience he looks back down at the love of his life and can’t help smiling at the air of vague confusion that he’s exuding. Inspiration strikes and his smile becomes a smirk.

“If you come to bed with me now, I’ll do that thing you like.”

Interest piqued at last, Taker contemplates. “Which one?”

Shawn leans down and whispers into the bigger man’s ear and then steps back again.

“Really?”

Shawn nods.

Taker leaps up, casting the volume aside without so much as bothering to put in a bookmark. “Come on! What are you waiting for?”

Shawn watches as he disappears out of the room and hears him pound up the stairs and can’t help a self-satisfied grin.

Well, that was easy.”

————

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #shawn michaels #hbtaker #hbtaker fluff #domestic bliss #hbtaker land #TTT tumblr asks

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twofrontteethstillcrooked · 1 year

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Destiel Month, 25-27 Nov.: Movie, wound, bed

"What else has been buggin' you?" Dean asked, shifting nearer.

deancas ust, newly human cas

"The people in this town seem very unsuspecting of the sheriff," Cas pointed out. "He is at far too many vague 'law enforcement conferences' during times of full moons to not be a viable suspect in these supposed 'werewolf attacks.'" He bit back a groan and tried to sit up at the headboard more straightly.

Dean paused The Savage of a Red Morning II: Rabies Attack and refluffed the pillows Cas had been leaning against. "There we go." He also yanked the blanket back into order and arranged it around Cas's waist. "Better?"

His anxious expression made something catch in Cas's chest. Like a crick in the neck, Cas thought – that was something he'd experienced now as a human, one of those inexplicable little ways a body could betray you simply because you'd, quote, slept wrong, end quote. He felt the normal heat coming off of Dean's body due to nothing more than homeostasis and close proximity and wanted to pet it like a pelt, wear it like a pair of mittens.

Cas wanted. And wanted.

He remembered he needed to answer. "Yes. Thank you." He sounded tired even to himself.

Dean watched him. "You wanna keep going with the werewolves, or is it time to hit the hay?"

"I can stay up a while longer." Cas rubbed his hand on his thigh that was somewhere beneath layers of linens and pjs. "May I ask you something?"

Dean nodded.

"How long did it take you to get used to wearing trousers?"

Dean's whole face wrinkled with confusion.

"It was probably so long ago you don't remember," Cas said. "At some point in your life, you were dressed by someone – a baby, wearing baby clothes. Then eventually, you were big enough to wear shirts and pants, possibly even shoes and socks, hats and coats."

"I… Yes?" Dean tipped his head. "Sammy hated shoes for a while, when he was maybe a year, two years old. Kicked them off every chance he got. But I think that's pretty normal for little kids. I remember his feet were like squares. Squishy cubes."

"My leg hair is very distracting," Cas grumbled. "And I cut my toenails after I took a bath one day last week, but they were still very difficult to trim with those little clippers. They did not seem much softer after being in water than they had been dry."

Dean rubbed his hands over his face and like magic a different expression appeared. One, Cas noted, that was appreciably less bewildered; he liked Dean's small, rueful smile and his eyes soft with sympathy.

"What else has been buggin' you?" Dean asked, shifting nearer. He ran his right arm behind Cas's back and pulled him even closer, until they were tucked hip to hip.

"The stitches itch," Cas told him. He held up his bandaged wrist as evidence. "My calves and shoulders ache from the chase with the alp. There's a tiny spot on the roof of my mouth that feels puffy and sore, but also numb."

Dean's smile grew a little. "I don't doubt you burned yourself, the way you lunged at my coffee this morning."

"Food tastes better, sometimes. Louder. Potato chips are so loud and so salty. And they make the roof of my mouth sorer. My new boots have been rubbing a blister on my left heel and another one on the smallest toe on my right foot. Do toes have other names?" Cas asked.

"I just say pinky toe."

"All right. Sweating is terrible; it makes you wet. I don't like being wet, except in the shower, and even then, if the bathroom is cold, it's awful. Urination and defecation, it should go without saying, are deeply annoying."

"Sure," Dean said, nodding.

"I used to be able to keep my body clean, or just be clean, period, instantaneously. And now every hour feels like a battle with microorganisms living on my skin that through no fault of their own – I assume – will cause me to smell strange and off putting if I don't remove some of them on a regular basis with detergents or suppress them with deodorants or antiperspirants. I also used to be able to see the microorganisms; I can't do that anymore, but I know they're still there, waiting to feed on sebum my body produces without my consent."

Cas looked down at his hands in his lap and turned them over, palms up. "The alp's familiar," he started.

His throat closed for a second.

Dean slipped his left hand gently into Cas's.

Cas looked up into Dean's eyes. "It didn't take anything for the familiar to cut me." He swallowed. "When I was an angel, if I cut myself, I didn't really feel it. The hurt was far away, and then I would heal." He closed his fingers around Dean's. "The familiar's knife sank in so quickly – it really was like a hot knife through butter." He shuddered, both remembering and not remembering the pain. "I tried to take deep, calm breaths, to slow my heartbeat like Sam talks about. Which didn't work. And when the familiar'd left and I was able to wrench my left hand free, I wasn’t– I'm right handed, I guess, and my left hand is weaker. Trying to staunch the wound to my right wrist with my left hand didn't work as well because the blood made everything so slippery–"

"Shhhh," Dean said, tipping his forehead against Cas's temple. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He placed a kiss beside Cas's eye.

"Swinging a heavy weapon was much harder," Cas whispered, closing his eyes and leaning into Dean.

"You'd lost a fuckton of blood, dude." Dean dropped another kiss atop his head. "And you're right handed. You did pretty well with that iron nail regardless."

Cas couldn't tell if he was imagining Dean's voice shaking just a bit. Sounds traveled differently these days. Dean's heartbeat was right there too, a steady lub-dub, lub-dub beneath Cas's ear.

"Anything easier than it used to be?" Dean asked. "More enjoyable?"

"I really do love coffee," Cas said. "This blanket has a comfortable texture. Your old flannel shirts are almost velvety and I like wearing them. Gooey pizza and cold beer make more sense now. Crisp morning air in November, listening to music in the Impala, getting dry after a soapy shower – all of those are nice." His gaze fell to Dean's mouth; he caught himself and looked up again.

The moment stretched and stretched, green as a woodland.

"You're warm," Cas said quietly.

"I don't think that's new," Dean said just as quietly.

"It is to me." Cas felt a thrill shiver through him as Dean's eyes darkened and his hand tightened on Cas's.

"Oh," Dean whispered, and it seemed like he was going to say something else.

Cas kissed him first, a soft glancing. Dean chased him to deepen the kiss.

A sigh of pleasure escaped Cas before he could stop it. "This is better," he was able to whisper back eventually, Dean's hands gentle as he held his head. "This is much better."

#destielmonth22 #destiel #deancas #spn #snippetfic #fic #destielmonth

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mimisempai · 1 year

Text

Indestructible bond

Summary

Mycroft may be able to keep his cool under any circumstances, but when someone gets too close to Greg, he is unable to control his emotions.

Notes

Mystrade Monday 1.0 #14 - « Take.It.Off. »

Because we never get tired of a possessive Mycroft

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On Ao3

Rating G - 618 words

Mycroft listened politely to the pompous words of his interlocutor, wishing only to join Greg at the other end of the reception room.

He forced himself to maintain the demeanor that should have been his at such an event, but he could not help but cast murderous glances in the direction of the man who was discussing with Greg in a way that he felt was far too friendly.

Until the moment when he couldn't hold it any longer. He apologized politely to his interlocutor and pretended to have to talk to someone else before moving towards the two men.

Greg obviously saw him approaching and could not keep a small smile from forming on his lips in Mycroft's direction. Apparently, his interlocutor took this as an attempt to get closer, for he moved even nearer to Greg and placed a hand on his forearm.

Mycroft joined them in three steps and, ignoring the other man, said to Greg in his most charming tone, "Sorry to keep you waiting, my dear."

The other man called excitedly, "Ah, you're just in time, Mr. Holmes, I was about to..."

"Remove your hand from my partner's arm immediately, I presume," Mycroft finished in a calm and falsely friendly manner.

The man, looking puzzled, exclaimed, "What?"

Mycroft, at the end of his patience, lost his smile and hammered out in a deadpan tone, "Take. It. Off."

The man finally caught on and withdrew his hand briskly before stammering, "Er... I'm sorry... I'm going... G-good night."

Mycroft followed him for a few moments with a murderous stare until the man disappeared into the crowd. Then a slight chuckle made him turn to Greg, who was shaking his head.

He raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Greg replied without breaking his smile, "Oh nothing, you really scared the poor man when all he wanted was the opportunity to talk to you. So much so that I'm the one who could have been jealous."

Mycroft grumbled with a scowl, "That's not what I saw."

Greg put his hand on his arm and whispered to him in a way only Mycroft could hear, "I don't blame you, you're really hot when you get all possessive like that."

Mycroft put an arm around Greg's waist to pull him closer and kissed his cheek gently before whispering in his ear, "Of course I get possessive when I see someone trying to take what's mine. "

Greg chuckled softly, "Silly, for someone to steal me from you, I would have to let them. Which isn't going to happen anytime soon. Besides..."

He paused and, bringing his lips to Mycroft's ear, he continued, "I belong to you body and soul, just as you belong to me, the one who can separate us is not yet born."

Mycroft didn't know if it was the whisper in his ear or Greg's words or both that made him shiver the most, but what was certain was that the reception was over for tonight.

He replied to Greg, "Let's get our coats and go."

Greg replied, "But the reception and..."

Mycroft shook his head, "You can't say that to me and expect me to remain unaffected, so unless you want me to do something indecent in the middle of the reception hall, we'll go now."

Greg laughed lightly and took Mycroft's hand as they walked towards the changing room under the envious gaze of the man who had just spoken to Greg. It was then that he realized he had never had a chance with either of them. As he watched Mycroft Holmes help Detective Lestrade put on his jacket with gestures that conveyed a deep intimacy, he sighed in frustration and went to get another drink.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

#mystrade #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #mycroft x greg #some fluff as always #sherlock bbc #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship #mystrade monday #mystrade monday prompts

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lavenderrpages · 7 months

Text

✧Feel like I'm navigating muddy waters✧

✧ And now I'm in a crisis with a KILLER.. you got me questioning what to believe in. since when did happiness become a sin ? since when did hurt become deliberate ? heal us. dancing in the dark. i can feel it in my heart. you're a killer, but I didn't wanna call it. something in the way you put your hands on my waist pulled me nearer. no, I never wanna call it. took your love for righteous, and now

i'm in a crisis with a KILLER. ✧

#( musings. // karolina novotney. )#karolina novotney

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v-thinks-on · 1 year

Text

Finally, luncheon with Lestrade came to an end and the inspector took his leave, to return to his investigation with my and Watson’s observations in hand. Watson put on a cheerful face through the meal and ate as I did, like a starving man, but it was not difficult to see that underneath it he was troubled.

Therefore, when we were free at last, it was with some impatience that I ushered him back into our rooms at the inn and he obliged.

However, when I had turned the key in the latch, granting us a little privacy, he stopped in the middle of the small sitting room we had been provided and insisted, “I am fine, Holmes, do not trouble yourself.”

I approached, drawing myself up to my full height and facing him as I might an evasive client, and said with a scoff, “My dear Watson, what do you take me for? The crease in your brow, the turn of your lips, your bowed shoulders; they all tell another story. And for months something has been troubling you.”

For an instant the flush of anger flashed across his features; I saw the hard set of a soldier, provoked into action.

I reached out without thinking, as if to restrain him, but by the time my hands reached his, my rational mind prevailed, and I gently lifted his warm, calloused hands in mine with a manner one might describe as beseeching.

He let out a sigh and all of the tension keeping him upright fled with it; his head fell upon my shoulder, the fine hairs tickling at my cheek. I wrapped one arm around his waist to hold him near, though I feared he was already far away.

“Is it Mrs. Watson?” I asked despite myself. “Do you regret…”

I mercifully did not have the chance to finish my sentence, as at the mention of his lawful wife’s name, Watson immediately righted himself. Unthinking, my grip tightened around his waist, though I knew at his word I would have no choice but to release him.

And then he captured my lips with his with all the force of his troubled mind, and all thought gave way to chaos. I felt him flush against me and pressing nearer still. I lost my footing and stumbled back against the sofa, for one desperate instant afraid that we would pitch back, but Watson pulled me upright, our lips separated, but bodies no further apart, him now looming over me.

“Don’t you dare, Sherlock,” he hissed, his cheeks flushed, and a dampness in his wide eyes like smouldering embers. “Of course I regret that I could not be the husband she deserved, but nothing more.” He huffed out a shaky sigh. “I know I’m hardly your equal either.”

“John!” I could hold my peace no longer. “Is that what this has all been about?”

Watson slumped down onto the sofa, and I followed him to hold him close, though he remained bent forward. I saw his chest rise and fall with ragged breaths, slowly steadying. His hands clenched and unclenched, the muscles still wracked with tension.

With a sighing exhale, he raised his head to face me, unflinching despite the tell-tale marks of shame. “My apologies, Sherlock, that was unworthy of me.”

“It was not all unwelcome.”

That elicited a fleeting smile, which I longed to keep, but it swiftly gave way to something more serious. “I have just been feeling old and tired of late, as though I am of no use to anyone. It feels not so different from those early days, invalided from the army without health or purpose.”

“You know I find your aid invaluable,” I remonstrated.

Another ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but he merely shook his head.

I wrapped my arms around him and drew him close against my chest, as though that might somehow convince him, and he wrapped his arms around me to draw nearer still, warm and solid, but I feared there was little more I could do.

“You needn’t come to remunerate Mrs. Watson for her waylaid mince pies, that at least I ought to be able to manage alone, though I expect I will be outnumbered.”

That caused Watson to sit up in surprise. “You mean she will bring a friend? However did you deduce that?”

“We are not so far from the residence of one of my young relations, who I believe to be a particular friend of Mrs. Watson.”

I saw the realisation dawn bright in Watson’s eyes. “You are right, we are not so far from St. Mary Mead. In that case, perhaps I’d better come.”

“Excellent, my dear Watson!” I clapped him across the back, and briefly pressed my lips to his for good measure.

#v writes #Sherlock Holmes #ACD Holmes #ACD Johnlock #H/W #John Watson #December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness #prompt: Mince pies #today is opposite day because the previous and next chapter are both about pies #new favorite chapter!

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lastbuckshot · 2 years

Text

Long Road Ahead

Words: 1.2k

Rating: M

Pairing: Adam Cole/Hangman Adam Page

“You sure about this? It’s your rodeo.”

Hangman’s legs dangled over the bed, the soft sound of denim rubbing against cotton sheets being the only thing keeping complete silence at bay. Thumb over thumb, twirling over themselves in infinite fashion; teeth picking and pulling at his delicate, reddened lips, and his eyes fixated on the leather boots that barely grazed the carpet of their hotel room.

“We don’t have to.”

Hangman sighed deeply, then groaned loudly, using both of his hands to drag his fingers up his face and through his golden curls.

“No, I want to. Just...”

He paused and finally met the eyes of the ghost who tormented him.

“Why me?”

His partner smiled. A couple of fingers trailed through Hangman’s scalp and behind his ear. A shudder rippled up his spine as the finger trailed further down the outline of his jaw, and just below his chin. His partner’s breath tickled his hear the closer he leaned in, slowly, the grip on his chin firmer with every inch of distance that closed between them. With a slow, hungry lick of his lips, his partner began to speak.

“Why not?”

The hand that had been gripping Hangman’s chin began to wander. First to Hangman’s neck, where his fingertips lingered for a moment over the rhythmic thump of his jugular, then onwards down his chest to the pattering of his heart.

The cowboy could feel the scruff of Adam’s beard raking against his neck, and shuddered at the flick of his tongue lapping at his throat. Adam’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as a moan escaped Hangman’s lips. He tugged up at his lover’s shirt, stark white with pink roses, tucked neatly into his jeans.

As Adam snaked his fingers around his hips to ease his belt out of their loops, Hangman’s head tilted back, and out of his mouth came a deep exhale.

“Adam...”

He felt his blood pumping and his muscles pulsating each time Adam’s fingers drew nearer to the sun, and as Icarus once did, Adam continued with the confidence of his inevitability.

“You ready, blondie?”

Hangman’s body shivered as Adam’s lips grazed the lobe of his ear. He closed his eyes and offered himself to his beloved like an altar of prayer.

“’Cause here I come.”

Adam’s hand snaked its way past the hem of his jeans and squeezed. Like a bolt of lightning, Hangman jolted, his eyes snapped wide open. Momentarily blinded by a pair of LED headlights beaming through the back window, he groggily rubbed his eyes. Shifting in his seat, he felt an uncomfortable wetness below his waist and sighed deeply.

“Sorry,” a voice spoke sheepishly from the driver’s seat. “This guy’s on my ass. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Hangman squeezed the bridge of his nose and rubbed his hands down his face. He glanced down again to check himself quickly, and could see a wet stain beginning to creep up his tie-dye tank top.

“Fuck.” he murmured.

“I know,” Adam replied. “Tough break, right? Can’t even nap in peace around here.”

The pair drove onwards in a bit of comfortable discomfort for a couple of minutes, the tires of their rented sedan treading asphalt toward their hotel.

“You have any good dreams?”

Hangman stared idly out of his passenger side window. They were on a bridge now, and he watched as the city lights below streamed into and around each other like little figurines.

“How’d you know I was dreamin’?” Hangman asked, lifting his head to catch Adam’s glance.

Adam simply smiled, and quickly put his eyes back on the road.

“Oh, you were talking in your sleep. I just assumed.”

“What’d I say?”

Adam twisted his mouth and tilted his head indecisively as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

“Maybe ‘talking’ was a bad word. You were making a lot of noises.”

A pause.

“You said ‘Adam’, I think. It might’ve been something else.”

Hangman shifted in his seat at the sensation of a twitch below his waist.

“Huh. Don’t really remember any of that.”

His tone was falsely lackadaisical.

“Don’t you hate that?”

“Yeah...” Hangman sighed. “Some dreams you’d rather forget sometimes, though. Like those bullshit dreams where you’re runnin’ but can’t get anywhere? Or when you feel like you’re fallin’? Fuck those, man.”

Adam’s laughter filled the car, and Hangman smiled at him. His laugh lines. The little crow’s feet. The bouncing of his Adam's apple as he chuckled. His neck. His beard. The grip of his hands on the steering wheel. His everything.

Twitch.

Hangman’s smile faded, and he shifted again in his seat, staring blankly ahead, his hands placed purposefully in his lap.

The rest of the car ride was the standard fare. The low hum of the radio bopping the latest tunes that both of them had heard, but didn’t quite know. The private witching of reckless drivers that swerved between lanes and cut them off.

It was useless, this dance they were doing. That’s all they ever did. Dance around each other.

Hangman struggled mightily to articulate what he was feeling. Lust, definitely. Infatuation, probably. Love. Maybe.

Love. It was a funny word to him. He loved how it felt when they worked together. He loved how it felt when they fought. He loved when they sat in this god-forsaken hell on wheels and talked about nothing, and he loved that they could sit in silence together.

More than any of those, he hated how he’d felt when they were apart.

Oh, how he hated that.

And now that they were together?

He hated that all those feelings were trapped in his throat like a caged, rabid animal. Ripping itself apart from the inside.

He could have him if he just said it.

Or just lose him forever.

Part of him wished he’d never come back. It would’ve been easier.

The other part of him hated himself for ever thinking that.

The pair sat paused at a red light that illuminated the air around them.

“Adam?”

Whisps of his long brown hair framed his face, and the rest sat atop his head in a messily construed bun. His baby blues glowed brighter than any traffic light ever could. Enough to illuminate the soul.

“Mmhmm?”

Hangman sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. Dread loomed over his shoulder.

“I love you, man.”

Adam’s smile was undeniable. As was the lump growing in Hangman’s throat, and the tears welling behind his eyes. He looked away, concealing a sniffle with a cough to clear his throat.

“Just wanted to tell you that.”

Hangman had long looked away, and struggled to look at anything but Adam. At the light. At the cars beside and in front of them. At the radio station. At anything. But he felt that Adam’s eyes had never left him, and that his smile hadn’t faded since the words left his lips.

“I love you, too. Thank you.”

With the changing of the traffic light from red to green, all the words they wanted to say (but couldn’t yet bare to) were left behind. Hangman turned up the radio and pulled the lever at his side to lean his seat back further. With his arms crossed over his chest, he closed his eyes, and allowed the hum of the engine and the presence of his beloved lull him back to sleep.

#bri's writing #eyes emoji

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thedeadthree · 2 years

Text

FIVE SONG OTP PLAYLIST

tagged by the darlings @adelaidedrubman, @leviiackrman, @marivenah, @dihardys, and @shellibisshe! ty so much you all! and saw @risingsh0t do this as well!

(x)

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @aartyom, @queennymeria, @blackreaches, @chuckhansen, @lacunafiction, @pheedraws, @swordcoasts, @virassan, @confidentandgood, @saintsilver, @arklay, @steelport, @celticwoman, @florbelles, @belorage, @rosebarsoap, @multiverse-of-themind, @jackiesarch, @alexandbear, @heroofpenamstan, @shadowglens, @pegxcarter, @inkrys and you!

BAD HABIT // STEVE LACY

kinda mad that i didn't take a stab at it / thought you were too good for me my dear / never gave me time of day my dear / it's okay things happen for / reasons that i think are sure, yeah / i wish i knew, i wish i knew you wanted me

DAFT PRETTY BOYS // BAD SUNS

i don't like you / you look so pretty from afar / i despise you / why you so f*ucking perfect on the outside? / she's dressed in sunrise dressed like dusk / going out she's getting into something / he's going all or nothing

SWEET TALK // SAINT MOTEL

you might want me to drop dead but i don't even care / sweet talk / everything you say / it sounds like / sweet talk to my ears / you could yell / "piss off! won't you stay away?" / it'll still be / sweet talk to my ears

MAKE ME YOUR QUEEN // DECLAN MCKENNA

i know that i mean nothing to you, babe / i'm in your grip from which i can't escape / and i can't help but think that i mean nothing to you babe / so make me your queen

EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED (TAYLORS VERSION) // TAYLOR SWIFT

all i know since yesterday / is everything has changed / come back and tell me why / i'm feeling like i've missed you all this time / and meet me here tonight / and let me know it's not all in my mind / i just wanna know you better

KILLER // FKA TWIGS

dancing in the dark, i can feel it in my heart / you're a killer, but i didn't want to call it / something in the way you put your hands on my waist / pulled me nearer, no, i never wanna call it / didn't wanna call it, didn't wanna call it / took your love for righteous / and now i'm in a crisis with a killer

MARKED FOR DEATH // EMMA RUTH RUNDLE

who else is gonna love someone like you that's marked for death? / who else is gonna be with you when you breathe your last? / who else is going to take my place and hold and keep you safe? / who else is going to stay? who else is going to stay?

DREAM GIRL EVIL // FLORENCE + THE MACHINE

am i your dream girl? / you think of me in bed / but you could never hold me you like me better in your head / make me evil / then i'm an angel instead / at least you'll sanctify me when i'm dead

HIT ME WHERE IT HURTS // CAROLINE POLACHEK

maybe there's something going on, i'm not insane / if i'm already out of time, then make it worse / go on and hit me in the heart hit me where it hurts / go on and hit me in the / blindspot, achilles' heel / vertigo, vertigo / high stakes, popped ears / promise one day / you will hate me

THE LIAR // MARRIAGES

oh mother they say, they say he was made for me / just you wait a while, just you wait and see / he tattooed with the devil's eyes / idle hands so kind / that lies / but he lies / you lie, you lie, and suffer my name / it's mine, it's mine to give or take it

GEMINI // NIGHTS

lust only pops in mysterious ways / sleep over don't get invested / fall in love and then i pay her rent / hustle and hustle and hustle and die

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS // CHET FAKER

you don't know what love is / do you know how lost a heart fears? / the thought of reminiscing / and how the taste of tears / lose their taste for kissing / you don't know how hearts burn / for love that cannot live yet never dies / until you've faced each dawn with sleepless eyes

MONEY // TARA CAROSIELLI

love me like your money / i just want you for myself i put on a show / love you better than the others, you don't even know / tell me why you're never here and always doing road / baby when it's time to leave i don't wanna go / i just want you for myself did i say it too late?

I HEARD (FT. THE DREAM AND VORY) // DJDS

and still i wait up, i stay up, i wake up / i pray about you / i know i f*ucked up, throw my face in this cup / can't live without you / but he lies like i lied, but my lies were sweeter / he lies 'cause he wants you / and i lie 'cause i need you

TRY ME // THE WEEKND

better try me / don't you mess with me / don't you mess with me / the way i kissed your scars / the way i fixed your heart, oh / don't you miss me babe? / don't you miss me babe?

MY TEARS RICOCHET // TAYLOR SWIFT

you know i didn't want to have to haunt you / but what a ghostly scene / you wear the same jewels that i gave you / as you bury me / i didn't have it in myself to go with grace / 'cause when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave / and if i'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? / cursing my name, wishing i stayed / look at how my tears ricochet

WHERE'S MY LOVE - ALTERNATE VERSION // SYML

old sheets / but where's my love / i am searching high / i'm searching low in the night / does she know that we bleed the same? / don't wanna cry, but i break that way / did she run away? did she run away? i don't know / if she ran away, if she ran away, come back home / just come back home

WALKIN' AFTER MIDNIGHT (FEAT. MAURA DAVIS) // KI:THEORY

i go out walkin' / after midnight / out in the starlight / just hoping you might be / somewhere walkin' / after midnight / searching for me / i walk for miles / out along the highway / well, that's just my way / of saying i love you / i'm always walkin' / after midnight / searching for you

EXILE (FEAT. BON IVER) // TAYLOR SWIFT

i'm not your problem anymore / so who am i offending now? / you were my crown / now i'm in exile, seein' you out / i think i've seen this film before / so i'm leaving out the side door / so step right out, there is no amount / of crying i can do for you / all this time / we always walked a very thin line / you didn't even hear me out / you never gave me a warning sign (i gave so many signs)

IN YOUR LIKENESS // WOODKID

watch my fears unravel / can you see the truth of me? / i don't want the light required / for this endless walk on wire / i know / i'm not made in your likeness

#only if you want to of course! 🖤#im a bit tardy so please feel free to pass on this if you've done it already! finally catching up on the things I've missed <3 #oc: edelgard vanderweyden #x: edelgard x reese #oc: caitrìona mac cathmhaoil #x: caitrìona x marcus #oc: viktoriya vays #x: viktoriya x jenkins #oc: líadáin talovaire #x: líadáin x leon #my brain is a fried egg or you can BET i would have added #more janskaxn like.. i slept the whole day todayjhabhkjsa. the post con sleepiness i tell ya #but lía and leon had NO BUSINESS taking me out at the knees like this! their playlist GETS me everytime!#i have done EXTENSIVE lore esays on daft pretty boys and make me your queen and how they're literally eddie and reese!#and now theres a new contender! bad habits makes me crazy its them!#SPEAKING OF SONGS THAT MAKE ME CRAZY! killer and marked for death! especially after the recent update! they make me crazy!#GODD like.. his most recent sitch.. the missing chestnut from the fire and how he's quite literally marked for death now?#and in killer? after samhain? and the DANCING..! that song THAT SONG like..! this is fine!#and just the chefs kiss of vika and jenkins I MISS THEM SO MUCH GAHH they mean the world to me!#in honor of the upcoming dlc theyre living in my head rent free again! shes back! return of the queen!#leg.ocs #leg.txt #leg.tagged #TY SO MUCH DEARS <3

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okkotszn · 2 years

Note

first time requesting! may we have a nanami being rlly tired from a day of slaying n just coming home and being all soft with nb reader? <33

with you

character ; nanami kento x nb!reader

tw/cw: mentions of minor injuries

my first post in 3 months. i feel incredibly guilty. im gonna try to fill out more reqs this week but again - i might not be able to

NANAMI definitely felt like he was at his limit. his body ached, littered with cuts and scrapes from all those pesky curses he had fought in the last 12 hours. all he wanted was to be able to relax — preferably in your arms.

you were sitting on the couch, finally getting the chance to catch up on that one show you liked. noticing the time, it read:

11:53 PM

scrunching your eyebrows together, you frowned. nanami was never this late. looking at the table, you had set down dinner but never got a chance to eat it, not wanting to without kento present.

that’s when you heard the doorknob rattle, slowly opening to reveal your husband breathing heavily all while leaning on the door for support.

you rushed to him from your place on the couch and as soon as you wrapped your arms around him, nanami had immediately relaxed as he inhaled the scent of the shampoo you used earlier.

putting his face in your hands, you didn’t need to say anything as you saw the look of pure exhaustion on kento’s face, softly gliding your thumb over the fresh cut on his cheek.

“kento, sweetheart, lay down on the couch,” you started making your way to the bathroom, “i’ll get the first aid kit.”

once you were out of sight, nanami slowly trudged over to it and plopped down, not even bothering to take off his shoes as he let out a groan.

rubbing his face with his hands, the faint sound of your footsteps drawing nearer as he peeked out from between his fingers to look at you as you finally approached him with the first aid kit in hand.

“take your hand off your face, you’ve got a nasty cut there.”

nanami silently watched as you tended to his wounds, giving a slight hiss whenever something stung just a bit. the focused look in your eyes, your tongue poking out a bit from your mouth, he couldn’t help but think to himself -

“how could i have been so lucky to find someone like them…”

as you finished up putting a bandaid on the final scrape, you laid a quick kiss on his forehead as you stood to reheat the dinner.

nanami wasn’t about to let you go just yet, grabbing your forearm and pulling you into him so that the both of you were laying on the couch. you let out a small squeak as you felt the tug which turned into a satisfied hum as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“thank you,” kento whispered into your ear as his fingers drew lines up and down your spine.

“it’s my job to take care of you, love.”

“and you do it pretty well.”

he chuckled.

“do you want me to warm up dinner? or should we lay here for a bit longer?” you asked.

nanami hummed. “let’s stay here a bit longer. dinner can wait.”

and so you closed your eyes, completely relaxing onto the body of your husband, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat and breathing. who cares about dinner? laying with the love of your life was much better.

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frogtanii · 3 years

Text

warm.

it’s too warm, was your first waking thought as you sluggishly waded through the mound of blankets that encompassed you to get a breath of fresh air (you assumed bokuto and kuroo were the culprits for your warm and fuzzy hellhole). your eyes first fell on the television playing the credits to the second or third pirates of the caribbean movie on mute, the remote haphazardly thrown somewhere to your left as though the person who did so left in a hurry.

speaking of people, there was no one left in the room as you slowly joined the land of the living. a part of you suspected everyone had gone to bed but atsumu or akaashi would’ve woken you up if that had been the case.

belatedly, you recognized voices coming from the front door and your still sleep-addled brain lit up. oh! you thought. food must be here! untangling yourself from the blankets proved to be an exhausting feat because by the time you were done, your body was covered in a sheen of sweat underneath oikawa’s sweats and sakusa’s hoodie.

ugh, gross.

you began to make your way towards the door, the blood rushing through your head preventing you from hearing the details of conversation but knowing atsumu, he was just haggling for a lower price even though you told him repeatedly, that isn’t how pizza places work tsum.

as you drew nearer to the commotion, you started to pick up on the heavy tension in the air, leaving you extremely uncomfortable. you had no idea what the cause of it was but you did know it was making most of the boys upset, who, by the way, hadn’t noticed you creeping around just yet.

a feminine voice rang out from outside the doorway and though you were still attempting to gain your hearing, the sound sent chills down your spine. it sounded saccharine, sweet, familiar, and oh so evil.

even with a head full of cotton, you figured now wouldn’t be the best time to reveal yourself, what with the clear discomfort permeating the atmosphere, but your big fat mouth apparently had other plans.

“‘tsum, just let the poor pizza lady go,” you muttered, the beginnings of a headache making itself known at the back of your skull. you were a little too caught up with the dwarf banging at your head with a sledgehammer to notice the shock that everyone in the room turned to look at you with.

a gentle hand grasped at your forearm, whispering something into your ear before attempting to pull you back to the living room, but that same familiar voice from the door kept you planted where you stood.

“oh, the princess finally makes herself known,” meiko sneered, her face finally coming into focus, striking you with pang of fear straight through your heart. “funny, i thought i left you speechless the last time we... ‘talked’.”

“ya shut yer fuckin mouth,” atsumu lunged at her but was stopped by sakusa’s arm around his waist, successfully holding him in place. meiko just giggled, taking a step into the house, her heels clicking as she glided across the hardwood floors.

in the back of your head, you noted that meiko looked unusually beautiful, her makeup flawlessly done and her outfit complementing it perfectly, almost reminiscent of how she used to be before... well, just “before”.

you watched the boys unconsciously angle themselves as a protective wall around you, the person holding your arm (who you now realized was koushi) pulling you in tighter until your back was resting against his chest.

a part of you couldn’t help but feel a little suffocated but the other, more self preserving, bit felt irrationally safe and protected around these boys. it was nice... or it would’ve been if meiko wasn’t taking herself on a tour around the house as though she hadn’t been living there for almost the past year.

“you all can tone down on the guard dog act. i’m not here to fight,” she said as she pretended to wipe dust off the island. “you’re not?” bokuto’s skeptical voice rose up from behind you, one of his hands finding yours underneath the massive sleeves of your (sakusa’s) hoodie.

meiko shook her head with an empty smile, her perfectly painted red lips stretching unnaturally wide. “no, of course not! i’ve just come here to collect.”

the boys collectively tensed around you, akaashi whispering for kenma to go find yachi and quickly. as he slipped away, you made eye contact with sakusa who gave you an imperceptible nod that you assumed meant one thing — keep her talking.

“collect what?” you asked, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted, but you hoped she didn’t notice. she cocked her head as her eyes snapped to you as if she’d forgotten you were there, but judging by her growing smirk, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“my boys of course!” meiko clapped gleefully, clicking her way over toward kuroo to run her hand over his bicep, laughing when he jolted away from her touch. “they’ve always been mine, you know that don’t you?”

it felt like a cold bucket of water had been dropped over your head. you felt frozen again, the same feeling of dread creeping up your spine as it did when meiko attacked you. in turn, you barely noticed kenma’s return who whispered something to sakusa — an action that didn’t go unnoticed by meiko.

“what’re my boys talking about? are you plotting against me?” she pouted, scooting closer to the pair. kenma visibly paled and moved to hide himself behind sakusa’s broad shoulders. “we aren’t doing anything, meiko.”

wrong answer.

“oh, we both know that isn’t the case kiyoomi. i’m not a fucking idiot.” meiko’s voice filled with venom before moving even closer still. you felt your heart beating rapidly in your chest, your hand gripping bokuto’s even tighter.

what if she brought some kind of weapon to the house? what if she hurt you? what if she hurt them?

before you could think, you were standing in front of the group, the boys calling out your name as meiko’s face lit up. “so the precious little princess wants to take a stand! let me have it then, huh? let me see what all the craze is about!”

despite the fear thudding in your chest, you stood tall, glaring at her with your head held high. “the boys are not yours, meiko,” you declared, her mouth instantly opening in protest but you refused to let her speak.

“they aren’t possessions or objects you can own and treat like shit. they are people, real living, breathing people and they aren’t mine either. they have full reign to do what they want, when they want, to make their own choices and decisions. and you know what? they didn’t choose you or me. they chose themselves and their happiness over any bullshit you or i could try and sell them. so please, for the love of god, get your shit together, put it in a box and take it to fucking therapy.”

by the end of your impromptu speech, your chest was heaving but you felt good. really good. adrenaline was rushing through your veins and you felt powerful. out the corner of your eye, you noticed osamu and daichi standing at the bottom of the stairs with something akin to awe on their faces.

yeah bitches. take it all in.

unfortunately, while you were basking in the feeling of badassery, you completely missed meiko’s eyes lighting up with pure, unadulterated,

rage.

you faintly heard someone call your name before you were taken to the ground by meiko leaping at you like an animal. the two of you scrambled about on the hardwood, her hands yanking at your clothes and leaving scratches on your skin but you were sure as hell giving her a run for her money.

you finally managed to get on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground but that wasn’t before you gained a hard elbow to the side and a bruise to your face. meiko thrashed and shook in your hold but you were not wavering, trying to keep her entirely still for...

well, for what exactly?

almost as though they were on cue, you heard the sound of police sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder as they drew closer to the house. underneath you, meiko’s eyes widened before she began fighting even harder than she’d done before, her erratic movements making it much more difficult to keep your hold on her.

luckily, you had extremely muscular men at your disposal, one of which (osamu — even though he was a dick, he was still incredibly muscular dick) held down meiko’s arms as the lapd stormed the building.

the police officers easily retracted meiko from your arms and cuffed her, taking her to the back of the cop car, despite her loud and insistent threats on you and everyone you love.

very disney villain-esque.

a kind looking officer helped you to your feet and walked you out to the porch where he began to ask you and the boys a few questions. you answered them honestly and you were genuinely proud of how well you were handling the whole situation when—

“bubs, you’re shaking.” sure enough, when you looked down at your hands, you were twitching uncontrollably, the reality of the events that just occurred finally sinking in.

you were just attacked. again.

you and your friends were threatened.

meiko was sitting in the back of a fucking cop car.

“what the fuck,” you whispered, eyes staring unblinking at your palms. the same officer mentioned something about shock, prompting all the boys to gather around you; atsumu pulled you in between him and sakusa, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, kenma and bokuto took hold of your quivering hands, sugawara and oikawa sat off to the side watching you with blatant concern, and kuroo and akaashi spoke to the officer in hushed tones.

the man nodded and shook their hands before shooting you a pitying smile and heading back to the car where meiko was waiting.

“it’s over angel, ‘s over,” atsumu muttered into your hair, pressing kisses to your forehead in between each phrase. you leaned into his touch but you refused to take your eyes off meiko who was watching the whole scene from the backseat, her eyes wide with anger, hurt, and confusion.

you didn’t bother dwelling on it, instead focusing on evening out your breathing and looking at the car drive over the horizon. you heard yachi’s soft voice calling everyone inside, atsumu lifting you up to your feet and walking with you, never once taking his hands off of you.

still, his words echoed in your head, even as yachi spoke of the end of the hyper house, even as the boys brought you to your room, and even as they all automatically cuddled around you in an attempt to get you to sleep.

it’s over. it’s all finally over.

you couldn’t keep the grin off your face if you tried.

℗ poker face

it’s over

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OK THE TITLE IS MISLEADING THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET SKENSM (there are 2 more official story chapters before all the endings :3) also m not the biggest fan of this chapter?? so i’d love to hear what y’all think <33 don’t forget to feed me!!

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

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reindeergamesz · 2 years

Text

Illicit Affairs

Summary: You’re betrothed to Thor thanks to an arranged marriage, but after moving into the palace to get to know your husband to be, you find yourself caught up in an affair with his brother…

Warning: SMUT (18+ only) oral sex (male receiving), fingering, vaginal sex

Paring: Loki x Fem Reader

This one shot is based on the song "Illicit Afairs" by Taylor Swift, I listened to this song while writing and there are many references in the story!

You caught Loki's gaze across the table, staring at you longingly, eyes moving from your face and then to the arm slung around your waist. You glanced into his eyes, he didn't have to say a word and you knew exactly what he was trying to say. Meet me in my chamber tonight.

These dinners were absolutely miserable, and it left a sting in Loki's heart every time he saw Thor touch you. He knew you didn't belong to him, he knew you were betrothed to his brother, but that didn't stop the possessive feelings he got when he saw the two of you together, even if it was all for formalities.

Your marriage was arranged, and you moved into the palace of Asgard to get to know your future husband before being married. The last thing you expected was getting tangled up with his brother, the God of Mischief.

It all started in the ball room, the most beautiful and grand room in the palace, it was so innocent then. A single glance that lasted too long, turned into sneaking away to meet in the gardens, under a staircase, or anywhere you had a moment alone. You kept telling yourself you could always stop this at any moment.

It's been nearly a year now, and as your feelings have grown stronger, your wedding grows nearer. You're a fool, you know it, you want to blame Loki for making you one but you only have yourself to blame truthfully. You knew from the first moment this couldn't last it, it would dwindle out, it would die.

As dinner ended and you went back to your rooms, you prepared to meet Loki in his chambers. You never put in effort like this for Thor, but Thor didn't make you feel this way, like you were in a high, on the best drug that any realm had. You picked up a bottle of your favorite perfume, but caught yourself before applying it. He can't smell like you.

As the night consumed the palace and the halls were mostly clear you slipped out of your rooms, checking to make sure no one saw you leave. You snuck your way down to the Prince's room and slipped in quietly, he was waiting for you. Before you even had the door shut fully, his hands were on you, pulling you flush against him, lips on your neck and making their way up to meet yours.

You kissed him back roughly, spilling all your emotions into the kiss, hoping he understood. The wedding was now weeks away, and as you were roaming the halls here, you had made up your mind it was time to end this. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, if this was to be the last time you wanted to make sure it was unforgettable, the memory would be all you had left after all.

Loki pulled away, you opened your eyes and his face was written with worry. "What's wrong love?" he whispers, wiping away a tear that was falling down your cheek. You didn't even know you had started crying, too caught up in trying to memorize every inch of his body. "I'm sorry, it's nothing, let's continue." You gestured for him to bring his lips back to yours.

Loki shook his head and pulled away further, now leading you to the sofa in the middle of the room. "It's not nothing, something is troubling you darling." he speaks softly, his hand on your leg rubbing small circles as comfort. You sigh and look down to the ground, not able to meet his gaze. "The wedding is close.." you cut your words short when you felt Loki's hand stiffen on your leg.

You looked back up to him, his face was emotionless, but his body tense. Another tear escaped you, you didn't know why you were crying, this was always the outcome. "We must end this now Loki, I cannot bring this into my marriage, it is unfair to us, unfair to Thor." you choked out the last few words. Talking about Thor and marriage felt sour in your mouth.

"You said you did not care for him." he says, you heard the tinge of hurt in his voice. You shook your head, "I don't, I never wanted this, but it is as it is and we can't change it. This is my life, and it's not fair to us to continue something with no means to an end." you explain.

Loki moves closer to you, taking your hand in his. "I do not wish to end things, we can figure something out." he says in a reassuring tone, you know he knows there is no other way. "We cannot change the situation, this is what's best for us all." the words are heavy in your mouth, you want nothing more than to be able to throw yourself into Loki's embrace in front of the whole realm, but fate is not on your side.

"Baby.." he trailed off, you shook your head as another tear escaped you, when he called you that it felt as nothing else mattered. "No please, don't call me that. This is not easy for me Loki." you breathed. He looked angry now, in one long stride he closed the distance between you. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you with my brother? Knowing you are to be married to him?" he shouts.

His eyes are wild, he's panting and looks as if he may snap you in half at any giving moment. "Yet again my brother always gets what I will never have.." he trailed off, your met his eyes then, your brows furrowed trying to make sense of what he was saying. "What are you talking about Loki?" you ask

He grips your hips, pulling you in closer to him. "You. Your heart." he finally says, you feel another wave of emotion come over you and you choke back the tears. You reach your hand up to stroke the side of his cheek, his skin is cool against yours. "You silly man, Thor does not have my heart, you do. You have had it for months now, but if we were to continue this affair, we would be ruined if caught. You would be ruined Loki, I cannot allow that." you tell him.

He placed his hand over yours that still rest on his cheek, and uses his other to pull you flush against him. "Darling, for you I would ruin myself." he says, his lips come down to yours and he pushes you back onto the sofa, resting his weight on you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting him as close as possible.

You felt his erection hard on your thigh as he ground slightly on you, letting out small gasp at the friction. The sounds he made always had you growing wetter, everything about Loki made you feel like you were on fire when you were with him. He began kissing down your neck, suckling on your pulse point and causing you to groan in pleasure, he was surely leaving a bruise for later.

His hand began slipping your silk body dress off your chest, giving him access to your breast. He continued his line of kissing til he made it your left breast, sucking and biting every so slight on your hardened nipple, as his right hand made work on the other. You were withering already, moaning under his touch, you were burning with desire.

You threw your head back and squeezed your eyes shut as Loki's hand traveled down between your legs, he slid his thumb ever so slightly over your clit, and you moaned loudly. He chuckled to himself "I do so love the effect I have on your my dear." his fingers start teasing you faster, you have to grab the sheet to keep yourself grounded.

He starts working lower, massaging your folds between his fingers and then slides 2 fingers inside and began pumping, "Oh my god Loki.." you panted, using your free hand to tangle in his hair and pull his lips back to yours. He kissed you hungrily, pumping his fingers harder and hitting your sweet spot perfectly. You felt the coil in your belly tightening, your orgasm nearing.

"Loki...I'm close..please" you moaned out, grinding harder down on his palm. He kissed behind your ear "Cum for me baby.." he growls, you topple over the edge then, your orgasm making your whole body tingle as you moan out Loki's name. He begins peppering kisses up your whole body, til he reaches your mouth and then kisses you roughly again.

"I don't know how you expect me to just let you go...you are simply the most magnificent women I've ever met." he whispers to you, you blush at his compliment but it makes you feel that much more dreadful inside, once this is over, it will truly be for the last time.

You slide from his grasp and off the couch, Loki is eyeing you carefully with a confused look on his face as he sets up, before he has the chance to ask you sink to your knees, rendering a smirk from the God above you. "I could say the same for you, no one in the universe will ever be ever to please me the way you do." you say sensually, rubbing your hands up his thighs, gaining a hum from him.

You place small kisses up his thighs until you reach his groin, his cock is already leaking precum and is swollen, you can tell he's absolutely desperate to be touched but you take your time kissing and touching all around his waist and thighs, causing Loki to squirm and gasp at your ever move. "If you don't stop teasing me love, you're going to be in for a rough punishment later." he says through gritted teeth.

You just grin up at him before placing a kiss to his tip and wrapping one hand around his shift, causing him to moan loudly. You slowly begin to make him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to take in his entire length. Loki is panting and moaning above you, "Gods yes.." he grunts. You continue taking more of him in your mouth, gagging slightly as the tip hits the back of your throat.

Once you have taken him fully, you begin to bob up and down, Loki wraps his hand in your hair to guide you down on him, groaning and panting above you. You love knowing you are the one getting these reactions out of him, it only breaks your heart more knowing this is the last time.

"Your mouth is sinful..keep going love." Loki encourages, you hum in delight around him, working faster to get him to his peak. You can tell he's close when the hand wrapped your air pulls tighter, Loki starts bucking slightly into your throat, chasing his release. After a few more moments he's cumming in your mouth, hot liquid coating the back of your throat and you happily swallow it all.

You release with a pop and Loki's chest is heaving above you. "You are extraordinary." he praises, causing a blush to spread over your face. He hooks his finger under your chin and brings you back up to his face and then pulls you on top until you are straddling him. His cock brushes up against your clit, gaining a small gasp from you.

You want him, more than you ever have, and maybe it's because this is the last time and you wish more than anything fate were on your side in this. Thor didn't need you, he was only obliged to you due to a political treaty from many many years ago. You didn't want to be queen, you never even wanted to be royalty.

Loki's lips were cool against yours, he helped lift you up and guide you above him. You lined your entrance up with his cock and slowly began to sink down, the tip pushed into you slightly and you both moaned out at the feeling. You sank further down on him "always so tight for me.." Loki growled against your neck. He finally bottomed out in you and you signed happily and the full feeling you always got with him inside you.

You rocked your hips at a slow and even pace at first, indulging in the feeling of his cock hitting your sweet spot every so slightly but not enough to bring you to the edge. Loki grunted and then grabbed your hips hard, holding you in place and then begin pumping into you at a rough pace. You throw your hard back and yell his name. "Yes..I love hearing my name from your lips..say it again" he demands.

"Loki.." you call out, even if anyone could hear you through these walls, you wouldn't care. In this moment all you cared about was Loki, how he made you feel, how he made your heart want to beat out of your chest just looking at him, he was the most beautiful, intelligent and wonderful man you've ever known. And in this moment, you know for a fact you love him.

Tears spilled down your cheeks from the pleasure and the realization both, he held you close to his chest as he pumped into you harder. With each thrust you felt yourself growing closer, you met his pace and started rocking your hips, your eyes screwed shut and your head thrown back as you impending orgasm approached.

"Loki, please, I'm gonna cum, please make me cum" you shouted, nails digging into his shoulders. He held onto you tighter and thrusted his cock into you at an almost painful rate, your breast bouncing against him, your pussy clenched tightly around his cock as you grew closer. All of it sent him over the edge, and he came with a shout inside you.

You came with him, grinding against him to ride it out as long as possible and then finally falling onto his chest to catch your breath. After you both came back down, Loki moved and laid you both down, bringing you close so you could cuddle against his chest and planter soft kisses to the crown of your head.

"I don't want this to end.." you whisper, looking up at him, he meets your gaze with sad eyes. "I don't either." he replies. You stroke your hand over his chest, swallowing the lump in your throat. You know you shouldn't say this, it's only going to hurt worse, but the way he's looking at you in this moment as if you were the only women in the galaxies spurs you on.

"Loki.." you move closer to his face, placed a hand on his cheek. He looks down at you, trying to read your face. "Yes?" he answers. A tear falls from your eye, and he wipes it away quickly. "I...I love you. I know that's the worst thing I could possibly say, I know it's wrong, but I just needed you to know. I'm sorry and I-" you are cut off with his lips on yours, you deepen the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth.

"Darling, I fell for you the moment I saw you across that room. I love you, and I want nothing more than to be with you. I thought you wanted to end this?" he adds at the end, you could hear the strain in his voice at the last sentence and you look away. "I don't want to know, but I don't know what other option we have." you admit.

"Well before you admitted you wanted to break this affair, I wanted you to come here tonight because I have a plan, for us." he says. You give him a confused look and gesture for him to continue.

"I realized shortly after I had you for the first time, I would never be able to give you up. There's no way my father could break things off between you and Thor without a valid reason without breaking the treaty. The only option is if you were to flee, things would be tense for a bit but Odin could just barter for another women of royalty to take your place and most women would line up to be queen of Asgard one day. I have made an agreement when Heimdal that he shield his eye away from us, so long as we go far away and never return." he explains.

Your mouth hung open, surprise written all over your face, you could hardly comprehend the words he was saying. "So..you want us to run away together?" you finally get out. Loki just grind widely at you "only if that is what you want, but yes" he admits. Tears have overcome you again "Loki, I couldn't possibly ask you to give up your whole life for me." you say.

He takes ahold of both your hands, places kisses on your knuckles. "If you were to marry Thor, I could withstand seeing you with him each and every day. I would have to leave, plus you know I've never felt at home here. If you were to leave with me, I promise to care for you each and everyday. But you must know, this would ruin you. You could never come back, all your titles would be denounced." he says, searching your face for an answer.

The answer was easy. You never wanted to be royalty, you especially never wanted to be queen of the nine realms. Your family signed you away for politics, and the only person you've had for the last year is Loki. "Okay...let's do it." you finally answer. Loki's whole face lit up, and he kissed you passionately.

"Are you sure darling? Are you sure you want to give everything up for me? Are you sure I'm worth ruining the life you know?" he ask. You smile at him and plant a kiss to the back of his hand. "You aren't the only one who is willing to ruin theirselves." you answer.

#loki #loki laufeyson #god of mischief #loki smut #marvel smut #loki laufeyson smut

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duskholland · 3 years

Text

Ritual || Boxer!Tom Smut

boxer!tom x reader — smut.

summary ↠ with the championship fight less than two weeks away, tom adopts a series of frustrating pre-match rituals.... based off the request ↠ ‘boxer!tom refuses to have sex for two weeks before a big match then he wins a belt and becomes the top boxer and his s/o patches him up like she does after every match, but it quickly turns into really intense victory sex with dom!tom’ I changed a couple bits but this is pretty much the same :)) warnings ↠ this gets very, very smutty. for that reason, 18+ pls !! extended nsfw warnings are beneath the cut but this spirals into v intense smut. so just. watch out pls. word count ↠ 8k a/n ↠ I almost died when I wrote this. truly. I felt a piece of my soul leave my body. sheeeesh. anyway uh... this was a lot of fun to write! I found out so many fun facts about sports psychology whilst researching this, so thanks boxer!tom for enlightening me on the fun world of pre-match-rituals. enjoy!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

extended nsfw warnings: fem masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), mentions of vibrating egg, edging and denial, dirty talk, reader definitely has a pain kink (...): biting, spanking + hair pulling, face-fucking, dom!tom, rough sex™️, shower shenanigans, doggy-style, unprotected sex — please wrap before you tap if you do this irl thank you very very much !!

*:·ﾟ✧Ritual ✧·ﾟ:*

Thump. Smack. Thump.

Tom’s fists rain down over the punching bag, and there’s a metallic clicking sound as the object goes spinning in the air. You watch as he pirouettes around the bag, dodging its movements between swings, getting in hit after hit after hit. He slowly works his way around the object, his face screwed into an expression of empowered determination as he alternates which bright red glove he uses to pound against the fabric.

You sigh, loudly, the sound dying in the near-empty gym. There’s just something about Tom in the days preceding a fight that makes you squirm.

He’s different. Still the man you know and love so effortlessly, but heightened in the most attractive ways. His senses pull sharper, his jaw carrying a firm line to it, his eyes like roaring fires. As Tom pounds his fists against the bag, his sweaty brown curls stick to the top of his forehead, contrasting the bright pink tones staining his cheeks. You watch the muscles in his arms tense and flex, pale skin on display due to the tight black vest that clings tightly to his torso. You know if he turned around properly, you’d be able to make out the sunken lines of his abs, packed rigidly with muscle.

You bite your lower lip, stifling a moan. You find Tom attractive enough under normal conditions, let alone when he’s like this: eyes glowing with determination, body burning with passion as he takes swing after swing at the punching bag like he’s got a personal vendetta against it.

“Having fun?”

You startle, clutching at your chest as you turn around to look at Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s sports psychologist. A frown instantly springs out across your mouth, and you reach up to begrudgingly take the bottle of water he offers you.

“I hate you,” you grunt. You sit up a little straighter before leaning back against the wall. You’re waiting for Tom to finish his workout, sitting on one of the benches in the gym. You’d started out the session sparring together, but you’d called quits after twenty minutes against him. Unlike Tom, you don’t have the biggest fight of your career in two weeks—and, honestly, you enjoy watching him like this more than you enjoy trying to keep up with him in the ring.

Harrison frowns as he drops to sit beside you, nudging your shoulder.

“I’m wounded, love,” he says, smirking at you. “What have I done this time?”

You roll your eyes. “You know exactly what you’ve done, Haz.”

Harrison raises an eyebrow, tutting. “You know this is for the best, Y/N.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Fuck the best.”

When Harrison had joined Tom’s team at the start of the season, he’d come boasting all the new sciences of a young university graduate. He’d suggested Tom adopt a series of rituals to help him focus before a big match—small things, initially, like taking cold showers and limiting the time he spends on his phone. Yet, as the competition has progressed and Tom has risen further and further up the ranks, the rituals have grown more intense, more focused. It’s reached the point that now, two weeks before the big match, Tom has reached his final form. As instructed, he visits the sauna every other day, receives daily massages from the most esteemed sports therapists in Europe, drinks multiple cups of pure, fresh herbal tea a day. There are no distractions—his phone is permanently on silent, he’s cut out naps, he’s eliminated music. No distractions, no impurities, no sex.

No sex, because according to Harrison, nothing gets adrenaline rushing and frustration festering like an extended period of denial. No sex, which is a problem, for you, because Tom has never looked as fit as he does now, launching himself at the punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. His biceps flex and bulge and you have to cross your legs as you tighten your grip on the water bottle.

“He’ll win,” Harrison mutters, lowly. You glance towards him, taking in the sight of the older man with his face doused in the harsh fluorescent lights of the gym. “He’s good. Got the best form I’ve ever seen.” He lowers his voice, glancing at you shrewdly. “Don’t distract him, alright? He’s on fire.”

You grumble something incoherent beneath your breath before sighing and sitting up straighter.

“It’s fucked that you get to decide when I get laid, Haz. You know that, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, cheeks blushing a light pink. “Uh, well, I didn’t actually know that he’d go through with that part of it,” Harrison admits. “But if it works, don’t knock it. He wants to win.”

You sit back, resting your shoulders against the wall as you groan. “I want him to win, too,” you say. You look down at your fingers, playing with some of the rings sitting behind your knuckles. “I think it’ll kill him if he doesn’t.”

Both of you look back at Tom, who’s ditched the gloves. You watch him talk with his coach, running a hand through his sweaty hair as he nods, looking focused as he listens to the pointers and tips. You release a relieved sigh as Tom’s coach pats him on the back and walks off, leaving Tom to pick up his towel and his bottle before sauntering over to you and Harrison.

“Hi.” Tom tosses his stuff onto the bench before reaching for your hands. He pulls you up easily and quickly, causing you to squeal as you find yourself in his arms. He’s hot, his entire body flushed with the sweaty, adrenaline-filled afterglow of a good, long workout, and you laugh as he dives down to kiss your neck, soft curls tickling you. “Missed you, darling.”

He works his way up your neck, nibbling softly at your skin before pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your chin, and then, finally, your mouth. It’s light, but then you push against him eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you moan happily as you enjoy the feeling of Tom, his skin warm and flushed, his pulse vibrating against you, and his mouth, coming over yours again and again.

“I’m right here,” Harrison mutters, speaking up from behind you. You groan, give Tom a final kiss, and then begrudgingly pull back.

“Sorry,” you call out, stepping closer to Tom as you turn your head to look at Harrison. Tom’s arms come around your waist, and he holds you nearer, humming as he presses his face into your shoulder. “You can always leave.”

Harrison rolls his eyes as he flips you off, causing Tom to chuckle.

“Y/N,” Tom mumbles, voice fond. “Harrison can stay if he wants to stay. I was thinking we could all go get dinner or something.”

To your relief, Harrison is quick to shake his head. He pulls on his jacket as he looks between you and Tom, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as they twinkle with amusement.

“It’s fine. I’ll leave you both alone. I think Y/N’s had enough of me, anyway.” He’s teasing, and you all know it, but you still throw out an easing pout as you shrug.

“Night, Haz,” you say, leaning further into Tom, who echoes your sentiments. As soon as Harrison’s gone, Tom spins you in his arms, his brown eyes bright and glowing with adoration. He kisses you again, and you sigh as you melt further into him, the spark in the pit of your stomach roaring back to life as Tom’s tongue teases your lower lip.

“Come shower with me,” Tom murmurs, hands roaming your back. He pecks the side of your mouth a few times as you hum.

“I can’t,” you find yourself saying, though it pains you considerably. Tom abruptly stops his kisses.

“Why not?” He pouts, pulling back to stare at you. He looks a little bit like an injured puppy, eyes wide with hurt. He squeezes your waist for emphasis.

“We’re in the two-week window, Tom,” you remind him. You reach up, lightly cupping his very hot, very sweaty face, in your palm. “You know we can’t.”

He groans, then dramatically lets his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you let him pout and rub his back.

“I love you,” he says, after a moment. He pulls back, kissing your neck briefly before sighing. “Thanks for putting up with this.”

“It’s okay.” You bite your lip, tilting your head to the side as you examine him carefully. “It’s kind of hot. You get so frustrated.”

Tom just narrows his eyes, staring at you with an expression mixed between amusement and frustration.

“Go on, champ,” you say, pushing his shoulder gently. “Go shower so we can go home, yeah?”

Tom begrudgingly steps back, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if he’s going to try and change your mind again, but he doesn’t. As much as you know he wants to drag you into a steamy cubicle, his desire to win his match is stronger.

“Be back soon, darling,” he says. “Don’t miss me too much.”

———

The days burn by slowly.

About a week in, you find yourself snapping. You always try to adopt pseudo-chastity with Tom, feeling a little guilty every time you sneak your hand between your legs and chase the highs he can only dream about finding. Yet, you end up reaching breaking point and giving in to temptation one evening, alone in your flat. Tom’s out late at the gym, at the point in the regime where he’s spending most of his days hauled up in the large building, and you just can’t help yourself: you’re so horny.

If you asked him to get you off, you know he’d agree, never wanting to deny you anything. Tom loves you, loves watching you fall apart for him, loves the power trip that comes with knowing your pleasure is in his hands, but you’d just feel too mean. His refusal to have sex in the lead up is as much psychological as it is anything else—you know he finds energy in the ritual, finds aggressive, fiery hormones in the fourteen days of denial. You’d never want to put him in the position where he got tempted to break, no matter how badly you want to cum.

So, you decide to take care of your ache yourself. Or, at least, you try to.

You start off strong. Teasing yourself over your panties, drawing your fingers over the front of your covered sex. You let your eyes flutter shut as you think about Tom, recounting some of the last few sessions you’ve witnessed at the gym. You think about him, his biceps flexing and curling, the subtle curves of his long, slender fingers, his mouth. His features blur, and you find yourself moaning as you dip your fingers beneath the soft cotton and start to stroke your folds. You circle your clit for a while before dipping down to your entrance, touching the pool of your arousal and groaning as you wet your fingers. As your arousal starts to build, you tease your clit, accompanying the action with your other hand after a while. It feels good—so, so good—as you tease your g-spot with your fingers, keeping your thumb on your clit, edging, and edging, and edging, and—

You can’t cum.

A frown settles on your face as you start to grow frustrated. You try to change things up, slowing your movements, letting the high ebb away before trying again. Instead of reaching climax like you crave, you find yourself resting on the edge instead. You’re aroused, your cunt throbbing, your clit tingling, but you can’t quite get there. It’s frustrating.

You’re so caught up in your irritation that you miss the loud slam of the front door, too absorbed in the sounds of your wetness to hear Tom’s yell of greeting. Your eyes are shut as your boyfriend enters the bedroom. You’re not aware he’s home until you hear him tutting, his voice stacked full of amusement and lust. Your eyelids flutter open, and you find yourself looking at him, wide-eyed like a deer stuck in the headlight.

“T-Tom,” you whimper, your movements stilling. You have your legs spread wide open, two fingers buried in your heat, your other hand draped over your bud. A shy smile finds its way across your lips as you batter your eyelashes at him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of your boyfriend, drowning in a black hoodie and tight blue denim jeans. His hair lies in fresh, air-dried curls, his eyes dark pools of lust. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tom repeats, imitating your tone. He pushes himself away from the bedroom wall, walking towards you like a lion stalking his prey. You whimper when he reaches down to touch your leg, sliding his hand over your shin teasingly. His eyes glint as he hears you, gaze fixed on the spot between your legs where your hands have stilled. “Oh, please don’t stop on my account, darling,” he teases, smirking. “Keep going. Just because I can’t have fun, doesn’t mean you should have to suffer too.”

You bite your lip, recognising all too well the teasing glint in his eye.

“I can’t,” you admit, shifting around on the mattress as Tom kneels on the end of the bed. Both of his hands are on your legs now, slowly, teasingly, dragging his touch up your shins. Your breath hitches as he slowly works his way up, dipping his head so he’s able to kiss each of your knees, his lips warm and tender.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

He’s lying down, settled between your legs, slowly kissing up the inside of one of your thighs. It’s hard to concentrate with him so close to your centre.

“Can’t get there,” you mutter, slowly pulling both of your hands away from your mound, leaving you exposed. Tom leans up, raising his eyebrows until you offer him the fingers you’d had buried inside your entrance. He hums as he sucks on your fingers, the sight of him making you moan softly. “I get so close, but I can’t get over the edge.”

Tom licks at the tips of your fingers before releasing them, smirking slowly. “What a shame,” he drawls, sounding the opposite. Both of his hands go to the soft sides of your thighs, and you let him pry your legs apart. He’s so close to your cunt that you can feel his warm breath fanning out across your bud, your folds, your entrance. “Looks like neither of us can cum this week, hmm?”

Before you can reply, Tom drops his head and buries it between your legs. You cry out, sensitive from your edging, your clit throbbing as you feel his tongue, warm and wet, circling the bud. His hands push your hips back down, holding you firmly in place as he moans, drawing his mouth all over your sex.

“Stay still, darling,” he murmurs, voice thick. He glances up at you, a wild look in his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me have a little taste.”

Your eyes roll back, and you try to lie as still as possible. Tom’s fingers slip into your cunt, exploring your passage, curling up against your g-spot as you whimper.

“So good,” you moan, already feeling your climax twitching in the pit of your stomach. One of your hands goes down to grab at his hair, digging into his curls and keeping his face exactly where you need it, and the other fists the sheets. Your chest rises and falls, your heavy pants mixing with the sounds of Tom’s fingers, fucking your wet heat, and his tongue, teasing the life out of your tender clit. “Please, please.”

“Hmm, you don’t want to cum, do you?” Tom’s words are coupled with a gradual slow in his pace, and you feel your orgasm drifting away as he stills his fingers. He laps over your clit a final time before sitting up a little straighter, looking at you straight on as his chin glistens. “If I don’t get to cum, it doesn't seem fair that you do either, does it?”

His voice is hypnotising, and when his free hand goes to rub warm circles on your inner thigh, you find yourself nodding, transfixed.

“I- I guess.”

Tom smirks, dropping his lips so he can kiss your clit, lightly.

“Are you going to wait for me, sweetheart?” He asks, pink lips puffy and inflamed.

You bite your lip. “Tom,” you whimper, frowning when he lets his fingers pull away from your heat. You watch as he licks his digits clean, still with that wide, confident smirk on his face.

“Hm?” Tom kisses your thigh. “I can make you cum, if you really want to, darling. Just thought it might be nice to do this together.” He rolls both of his hands over your legs, battering his eyelashes at you. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while. Just think about how good it’ll be to wait until next Saturday.” He pushes himself up your body, anchoring himself with a strong arm either side of your head as he suspends himself above you. Tom kisses you, roughly, but only for a moment, letting your lips pull apart when he feels you trying to slip your tongue into his mouth. “Let’s do this together, yeah?”

You hum, thinking on it for a moment, but the scent of his cologne and his fresh shampoo scramble your mind. You find yourself nodding, distracted by the glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you agree, rolling your eyes when he grins. “We’ll do it together.”

“Good girl.” Tom kisses you, grinning against your lips. “This is going to be fun.”

———

If you’d thought the sex ban was difficult to cope with in the first week, it only gets harder in the second. After giving Tom the green light to have his way with you, he seems to channel all his frustration into you—or, more specifically, into making you as frustrated as possible. He teases you, makes you squirm, beg, cry, letting his mouth wander over your sex or his fingers explore you, any time, any place he feels like it. He never allows you to roll over your edge, just watches, usually smirking, as you try to convince him to let you climax, only to kiss you, softly, and pull away each time.

It happens in the locker room—he pushes you up against the metallic lockers and slips his fingers into you, whispering gentle words with sinful intent.

“Gonna stay quiet for me, darling? Cunt feels so desperate... So tight, so hot. Fucking snug around my fingers, aren’t you? Shh… I know, I know. Feels good for you too, doesn’t it?”

In the showers, when you’re both hot and steamy—Tom drops to his knees and slings one of your thighs over his shoulder, nuzzling his face into your heat.

“Wish I could taste this pussy for the rest of my life, love. Tastes like paradise.”

It even happens in the gym, when he pushes a vibrating egg into you and enjoys teasing you, never warning you before he ups the pace of the bullet, watching with that signature mischievousness on his face.

“Don’t get all shy now, love… I can see the way you’re squirming for me. Bet you’re making a mess in those panties, hmm? Yeah… You can’t hide from me.”

It drives you crazy—beyond crazy. If you thought you’d been mad at Harrison before, you’re practically incandescent with rage by the time fight night comes around.

As your frayed arousal combines with the nerves of the big night, you find yourself alone with Tom, half an hour before the most important match of his career. Your priorities have shifted, your mood sobered by the situation.

“Visualise it,” you murmur, voice soft. You roll your hands over Tom’s shoulders. “Think about how good it’ll feel to hold that belt in your hands.”

Tom hums. He’s sitting on one of the hard wooden benches in the locker room. You’re kneeling behind him, occasionally dropping your lips to kiss the top of his head. After months of supporting him before a fight, you know exactly what he needs: you, touching him, grounding him. He doesn’t like distractions so near to the fight, which is why he has his eyes closed. Whenever he opens them, it’s only to look at the bright red gloves settled in his lap. You know that he appreciates you, even when he’s unable to vocalise it, too lost in his thoughts.

“You’ve trained your whole life for this moment, Tom. You deserve it.”

It’s a mantra. Harrison had taught it to you. Small words of affirmation, repeated softly over the lead-up, speaking them into existence. Tom hums, listening intently.

“You’re going to win,” you speak, your own eyes shut. You focus on the feeling of his shoulders, packed firm with muscles between your hands. “You’re going to win, and then you’re going to fuck me.”

Tom shifts, his posture straightening a little, and your eyes widen as you realise you’ve let your inner thoughts interrupt the ritual.

“I don’t think that’s on Harrison’s script, darling,” he mutters, voice amused.

You reach forward, drawing one of your hands over his forehead. Your fingers play with his hair, and you scrunch up your nose as you chastise yourself for your deviation.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Just fucking horny. Your fault.”

“Mm, sorry.” Tom grunts when you pull on his hair a little harder, and you repeat the action. “Fuck, love.” He groans louder and tilts his head to the side, exposing the pale column of his neck. “Give me a hickey?”

You oblige, dipping your head so you can rest your lips on his neck. “Where?” You ghost your lips over varying points on his skin, teasing him with light nibbles.

“There,” Tom mutters. One glance at his face confirms he’s still got his eyes shut. When you give in to his desire and start to suck a deep hickey to his skin, he grunts and reaches up to grab at your hands, squeezing your fingers roughly. “Shit.”

“There you go,” you say, voice soft as you pull back.

“Thanks, love,” Tom mutters. “Want to wear it in the ring. Good luck charm.”

You bite your lip, your centre throbbing as you listen to him. You kiss the mark, stained dark against his skin.

“You’ve got this, Tom,” you whisper, redirecting your lips to his ear. His neck prickles with goosebumps when you kiss his earlobe, softly. “You’re going to win, then you’re going to come back, and we’ll celebrate together. Okay?”

Tom’s still holding your hands, firm and eager, and you smile against his neck when he squeezes them.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll win. I’ll do it for you.”

You kiss the back of his head, his soft curls gentle against your cheeks.

“Love you, champ.”

He coaxes one of your hands to his face and kisses the back of your palm.

“Love you too, darling.”

———

The atmosphere sharpens when Tom gets out to the ring.

It’s a big match. The press is here, the fight streamed live to thousands of people across the world. As Tom strides into the ring to take on his opponent, you settle at the side of it, looking up through the ropes with Harrison by your side.

Tom starts off strong—a few hard jabs here, some quick punches there. He dodges and rolls, his bright red gloves raining down over his opponent. Yet, both Tom and his rival are the best of their class, so it’s a nail-biting half-hour spent with your fingers crossed, eyes trained on your boyfriend as he throws everything he has into the ring.

When they break halfway through the match for a few minutes of respite, you’re quick to slip up into the ring and assist Tom’s trainer as they patch up his injured hand. Tom doesn’t say anything, his teeth frozen in the hard white mouth guard, but he squeezes your hand before you step out again, and you know he’s still in there.

The second half only gets more intense—both of them knowing how close the match is, and adjusting accordingly. Tom and his opponent are more reckless, more brutal, and you watch your boyfriend take risks he’d promised to never try to take. It leaves you an anxious mess, but you can’t help but watch him in awe.

Tom’s time in the ring is a performance, beautifully violent, elegantly composed. Spit sprays, sweat drips, blood rolls. He’s loud—very vocal, his sounds almost brutish. His eyes glint black, brown curls stiff with sweat, face on fire. You find it incredibly attractive to watch him in his element, not just because he physically looks incredible, but also because he’s so utterly committed to his trade that everything else fades away. His passion burns, scorches the ground, ripples over his opponent, and in the end, Tom rises, and his rival sinks.

It’s close, and though you have the suspicion that your boyfriend might have snagged it, you hold your breath until it’s confirmed. Your grip on Harrison’s hand is so tight that he curses, but you don’t release it until the MC yells Tom’s name as champion and thrusts his arm triumphantly into the air.

The arena explodes. Your ears ring as you clap and cheer, tears of pride pooling in your eyes. The first thing Tom does is turn around, looking at you with an expression of elated shock on his face. Then, after accepting the belt and speaking a few hurried words of thanks into the microphone of the leading journalist, he comes straight to you.

“Tom!” You exclaim, shaking from emotion. It’s a blend of adrenaline, pride and nerves, cooling your body, making you quiver. Tom reaches down from the ring and grabs both of your hands, jerking you up to him. You dodge past the ropes, almost tripping in his haste, but he grabs you.

Still with the bright stage lights blinding the ring, Tom sweeps you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hot hands burning into your waist. You release a loud noise of surprise, taken entirely off-guard but rolling with the punches. Tom pushes you back against the ropes of the ring as your hands curl into his sweaty hair, and your brief hope that they’ve stopped broadcasting live is set aside as Tom comes closer, caging you in with his buff arms. It’s messy and dirty, his tongue twisting against yours, lips firm, intense, but it’s everything. As you let go of the tension you’d been harbouring all evening, another very prominent emotion burns to the surface: arousal.

“I fucking did it,” Tom breathes finally, forehead pushed to yours. He sounds so proud of himself that it makes you smile, tears reappearing in your eyes as you nod.

“You did,” you confirm. You pull on his hair and push him back so you’re able to see his eyes, dark and hungry. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment, and then kisses you again, with so much intensity it knocks your breath from your lungs. When he pulls back, he uses one very hot hand to cup your cheek, holding you tightly.

“I have to do some interview shit,” Tom says, grimacing. He tilts his head at the championship belt, which now lies on the floor of the ring, discarded. He’s smirking as he brings his gaze back to you. “Meet me in the locker room? Ten minutes.”

You nod.

“Don’t be late.”

———

You wait for Tom in the team’s locker room, taking the time to lock all of the side doors that lead out from the room. His team has been around the two of you for long enough to know that it’s best to give you a wide berth in the few hours after Tom’s won a match, but you can never be too sure. Once you’re finished with that, you go to the liberty of pulling off your shoes, your jumper, and all the jewellery you’d put on for the night.

Then, you wait.

You wait, and you think about how magnificent Tom had looked as he’d fought, arms flexing, jaw set firm in a focused grimace. You rewatch the scenes of him thrusting the belt into the air, yelling elatedly. You think about how fucking mad he’s made you feel over the last two weeks, edging you and denying you, over and over again. It feels as though you’ve been permanently aroused for seven days straight, and now is no exception: just from spending all evening ogling him, you can feel your arousal wetting the front of your panties.

“Fuck,” Tom exclaims, suddenly bursting into the locker room. You turn around to watch him sling the championship belt over his shoulder as he hurries to flick the lock on the main door, knowing the routine as well as you. When he gets it, he turns and stalks over to you, picking up into a jog. “That took so fucking long,” he groans. He throws the belt away and pulls you from the bench, pushing you until your back bumps up against one of the metal lockers. Tom grins, his nose pressing to yours as he smothers you, hands back on your hips, forehead to yours, breath spreading over your face. “Couldn’t wait to get back here and see you.”

You draw your hands over his back, feeling his muscles tense and flex.

“Just see me?” You ask, ghosting your lips over his.

Tom tightens his grip on your waist. “No,” he mutters darkly. He kisses you, only for a second, but very hard. “Couldn’t wait to get back here, rip your clothes off, and finally give you everything you deserve.”

“Everything I deserve?” You raise your eyebrows, running your hands lower. “I think you deserve more, baby.” You smirk against his lips. “You just won the biggest fight of your life.”

“That’s true…” Tom steps back, only for a moment, and you watch as he reaches beneath the waistband of his gym shorts and grunts. A second later, he pulls out the hard protective cup that shields his lower half from injury in the ring, and he groans, loudly, his forehead pressing to yours. “I’m so fucking hard, darling,” he whines. He steps closer, and you feel him, stiff as a rod, pressing into your thigh. “Need to get it out of me.”

You nod, your head moving back as Tom runs a hand over your throat and tilts it to the side. His lips attack your neck, biting hard kisses to the side of your throat that make you moan, your pulse feeling strong between your legs.

“Shit,” you curse. “Get in the shower.”

Tom sucks a harsh hickey just below your ear before pulling back to wiggle his eyebrows. “The shower, eh?”

“Yeah.” You step out of his hold and start to tear off your clothes, your skin rippling with heat. “Gonna suck you off.” You fling your t-shirt to the ground and roll down your jeans, watching as Tom does the same. “Then… Then, you can fuck me… Shit, I’m definitely going to need you to fuck me.” You throw your bra aside and then push down your panties, the waistband rolling in on itself due to your speed. “I’m so wet, Tom.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Tom says, eyes taking in your bare form. “Been dreaming about feeling you again, love.” He finally pulls down his boxers, and his hard cock springs out. “Two weeks is far too long. Get over here.”

Tom grabs your hand and tugs you into one of the wide shower cubicles. Both of you curse as he turns the valve and the water comes out freezing cold, but the stark contrast to the raging fire burning up your insides is nice.

You kiss him for a while, as the two of you get soapy and Tom washes away the grime. His skin is soft beneath your hands and the noises he makes as you massage his dodgy shoulder would be erotic enough without the presence of his cock, hard and leaking precum, resting between your thighs. You make out for a while, savouring every moment and enjoying the fact you’re now able to kiss him for longer than two seconds without worrying about exciting him too much. It’s still just as intense as before, but less hurried, and more passionate—Tom’s fingers pushing your damp hair out of your face, water droplets rolling down your figures. To be so bare in front of him and have him so ravenous for you makes you want him more than anything.

“Get back,” you murmur, pushing his shoulders. Tom obeys, his body pressing against the yellow tiled wall. You run a trail of kisses down his torso, paying attention to both of his pecs before his abs, then his v-line. Your knees bend, and you kneel on the floor, kissing up his thighs briefly before finally taking him in hand.

“Fuck-” Tom yells. His hands wind into your hair, flat palms grasping at your skull when you drag your tongue over his tip. “Been so long, love, I won’t last long at all.”

You hum as you tenderly lick over his head, absorbing his salty precum and moaning at the taste. “I know,” you say, your hand slowly tugging his length. You give his tip a chaste kiss as you blink up at him, smiling innocently. “I don’t want you to last long. I want you to cum down my throat.” Very slowly, you envelop his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head gently. You pull back after only a few moments, needing to add, “Want you to fuck my face, Tom.”

Your boyfriend moves one of his hands to your cheek, his voice strained from the way your hand is pumping his lower shaft. “Are you sure? Might not be gentle.”

“Yeah.” You nod your head too. “Want it rough. ‘M so fucking horny, and so are you. Want you to make my throat ache tomorrow.”

Tom curses, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so sexy,” he whines, slapping your cheek gently. “Thank you.”

You consider telling him that it’s almost as much for you as it is for him, but then you decide that the sight of his cock, flushed red, leaking precum, is your number one priority. So, you loosen your hand on his member and remove it completely, then soften your jaw and start to take him in your mouth, deep-throating him like you’ve ached to do for two weeks.

Tom’s fast to use his leverage on your head, guiding you with shaking hands. Both of you know that all you have to do to tap out is press his thigh, so you let him use you however he needs. Tears pool in your eyes as he fucks your mouth hard, his tip hitting the end of your throat until you gag. The lewd sounds mix with the pounding of the shower against the tiles and Tom’s grumbled groans that spiral up into the air.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he says, voice raspy and light. “So good, sweetheart, fuck. Such a pretty mouth. Feels so bloody good.” He breaks off for a moment, and you feel him shifting around on the wall, indicating he’s near his peak. “So messy too, fuck. Missed this. Watching you on your knees, gagging on my cock.” He tightens his grip on your hair and pushes you deeper, groaning loudly as he does so. “Fuck, I’m gonna blow. Gonna cum all down your throat. Shit, shit-”

Tom stops moving your head as he yelps, one of his hands curling into a fist and hitting back against the wall as he cums suddenly. You swallow around him, pulling up until your lips are at his tip, and your hand goes up to pump the rest of him through his orgasm. His entire body shakes, releasing the pent-up frustration that comes with so long in denial, and you take joy in the light whimpers he deposits into the air as you suck on his tip, cleaning him up.

“Holy…” Tom grabs your hair and pulls you back up, slumping against you instead of the wall as he pants. After taking a moment to gather himself, he pulls back to look at you, his thumb coming up to play with the beads of his cum that stain the corner of your mouth. “Made a mess,” he coos, pushing his seed onto your tongue. You grin as you suck his thumb further into your mouth, delighting as he curses. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart. You really are.”

You release his finger with a pop, shrugging. “How was that?”

Tom groans again, the sound almost orgasmic. “So good,” he mumbles. “Been so long, darling. So, so long.” He kisses your face, dusting your cheeks in light, loving kisses. When he pulls back, his eyes are a little darker. “Bet you’d like to chase that high too, wouldn’t you?” He accompanies his words with a sly hand, slipping down between your legs. When he feels your slick, so pronounced it’s coating your inner thighs, he tuts, smirking. “All this for me?”

You nod, whining breathlessly as he slips two fingers up to toy with your bud. You feel like a livewire—strung out and pulsing, white-hot. Unlike him, you’ve had some stimulation over the last two weeks. Just, you’ve also been cruelly pulled away from the edge, every single time.

“Just for you,” you agree. Your face drops forward, and you find yourself biting Tom’s broad shoulder as he curls two fingers into you with ease.

“You’re so hot in here,” he mutters, “and so wet, too. Fuck, love. You’re dripping down my hand.” When he angles his digits up to caress your g-spot, he strikes it immediately, and you moan noisily. “There you go, baby. Shh. It’s okay.” Tom fucks your tight heat, gradually unravelling you. “I’ve got you.”

Your moans come out strangled, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers as your high builds quickly. It won’t take much to push you over the edge, and as much as it pains you—

“I don’t want to cum on your hand, Tom,” you manage, your voice betraying you by splitting into a whimper. “Want to cum on your cock.”

Tom slows his fingers, but he keeps thrusting them into you, just too slowly for you to peak. You groan, your centre pulsing as he keeps you burning near the edge, his lips on your neck again. He gently kisses up to your ear, mouth feather-light.

“Are you sure?” He coos, nibbling at your earlobe. “Feels like you want to cum.” When Tom adds his other hand, two fingers gently stroking your tender bud, your knees almost give out. “Can feel you clenching around me, Y/N, naughty girl.” He kisses just below your ear. “If you want something, you know how you need to ask for it.”

You’re all over the place, your eyes squeezed shut, sweat breaking out over your forehead, your cunt clenching and releasing every other second. You’re so close you can almost taste it, but you try to exercise self-control.

“Please, Tom.” It takes everything in you, but you manage to stand up straighter again, looking at him straight-on. His eyes dance dark with power and lust, his smirk unmoving as he thrusts his fingers a little faster. “W-Want you to fuck me. Been waiting so long, don’t want to fall apart if it isn’t with you behind me. Please, please, please, please-”

He cuts you off with a hard kiss, and finally, Tom pulls his hands away. He runs them both through the stream of water before reaching back to clumsily turn off the valve.

“I fucking love you,” he tells you. “Couldn’t deny you anything. Not really.” Tom takes your hand. “C’mere.”

Tom carefully pulls you over to one of the wooden benches. After draping a towel over the wooden slats, he pushes you down onto your hands and knees, his fingers spreading your legs. You whimper as you feel his cock, hard again, refracted in the interlude he’d constructed with his hands working you into insanity. Your knuckles clench around the slabs of wood, and despite already feeling the ache in your knees, it only spurs you on. You love the pain, love the visible, throbbing reminders of Tom, and he knows it just as much as you do.

“Look so pretty like this, darling,” Tom says, voice drifting through the air. Both of his hands go to your ass, roughly massaging your skin until his right hand slaps down across you, stinging bright hot. He repeats the action when you moan loudly, the slapping sound ringing out through the air. Each time his hand falls over you, you only grow hotter. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered in water from the shower, you’re burning up. “G’nna let me take you like this, eh? Fuck this tight little pussy, like I know you’ve been dreaming of.”

When Tom lines his tip up with your entrance, you find yourself clinging to the edge of the bench with your fingers.

“Yes,” you beg, backing up against him. You feel like you might dissolve into a mess of arousal, tears, and desperation if he doesn’t satisfy you soon. “Please.”

Tom runs a hand up your back, fingers drifting over the line of your spine. He drops his lips and kisses the lower part of your back, so delicately it makes you quiver.

“Okay,” he says. “G’nna give it to you good.”

He enters you quickly and easily, and you almost lose it from the first thrust alone. You’re so slick that Tom’s swift in pulling back and then slamming back into you, his hands holding your hips back and in place as your arms wobble and your figure loses control. You drop your head between your arms, the blood rushing to your skull and making you feel light-headed as he rocks into you, over and over again, giving you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

“Tom,” you gasp, your breaths heavy and inconsistent. It feels indescribable—the final denouement of your time apart. Each drag of his cock through your heat has you reeling, your walls quivering and clenching and trying desperately to keep him in, keep him nudging your g-spot, stimulating your passage. You’re moaning louder than you’ve ever moaned before, the coil in your stomach building and building without warning or direction.

Behind you, Tom seems to be enjoying it just as much as you. His libido strong and healthy and his body pumped full of pre-match adrenaline that it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he’s being so hard and purposeful in his movements. His groans are like music to your ears, small grunts of affirmation that he too has missed the paradise that unfolds when you join together.

“So fucking tight, angel,” he rasps, again letting his hand fall over your ass. He soothes the skin with his palm, and then he repeats the action two more times. “Feel you clenching me every time I do that.” He pinches your hip with his other hand, and you find yourself biting your forearm, embarrassed by how loud you think you’d moan if you were able to. “You love it rough like this, don’t you, darling? Mm… I know you do.”

It’s a dizzying blur of skin on skin for a while, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge on multiple occasions. It’s as if your body is holding back though, waiting on Tom to near it too before you’re able to fully let go. Almost sensing this, he reaches down and shoves his fingers in your hair, roughly tugging you up until your back is pressed against his front. The angle pushes him deeper, and your eyes flood with tears as you find yourself unable to comprehend just how good it feels.

“Y’like that?” He rasps. Tom drags a hand down to your clit, able to access it better now that he’s holding you so much closer. His pace is slower, but he’s going forcefully, his head hitting your g-spot every time. “Fuck, darling, I’m gonna cum if you keep clenching like that.”

You whimper, your chest heaving.

“Yeah,” you moan. His name pours from your lips like a prayer, rising in desperation as you slip back down, hands grabbing at the slats of the bench as you hold on for dear life. “Fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Come on,” Tom urges. “Do it. I want to feel you squeezing my cock so tight, like you always do. Always makes me lose it, doesn’t it, love? Shit, you’re so perfect. Go on. I’ve got you. Get my cock nice and wet, and I’ll fill you up. You’d like that, eh? Feeling me cumming inside this pretty pussy? Come on. You know what you have to do.”

It slams into you, pouring down over you in waves that submerge you entirely. You feel boneless but also rigid at the same time, your jaw slack as your vision blurs. Pleasure ripples out from your centre, dousing your aching cunt in relief that feels so sweet, only growing richer and more fulfilling when you hear Tom grunt and feel his cock pulse in you. You come together, bodies moving in sync, perfectly, despite the time apart, and it’s so good that it takes you out of it completely.

You’re so absorbed in your climax that you end up drifting, opening your eyes a few moments later only to find yourself lying on your back, staring up at the bright white lines of the locker room ceiling. Your eyes blur with tears, but just for a moment, because then Tom’s palm swims into vision, drifting above your head until he finds the right angle that blocks out the light.

“Hey, darling,” he coos. He brings one of your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “Are you okay? Lost you for a second.”

A very lazy, content smile finds your lips.

“Yeah,” you say sluggishly. You ache all over, but it feels incredible. You’re buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes after a session like this—after you’ve let him dismantle you completely. “Are you okay?”

Tom nods, his wet hair flying everywhere. “Fantastic,” he confirms. He glances down your figure, then offers you a soft smile. “I’m going to take you home, run you a really, really nice bath, and then we’re going to cuddle.” He drops your hand and instead cups your face in his palm. You nuzzle into it. His eyes are so soft as he gazes at you tenderly. “You’re so lovely, Y/N. I love you.”

You smile softly. “Love you too.”

Tom leans over you and kisses your lips, very gently, before shifting his mouth all over the rest of your face. He goes from one cheek, over to your forehead, down your nose, to the other, before circling back to your mouth. By the time he reaches there, your smile has grown to a grin, and you feel grounded enough to reach up and loop your fingers into his hair.

“Thank you,” he says, speaking earnestly, “for always being here for me. For supporting me, and putting up with all my crazy ideas, and being incredible, always. You are my inspiration, and I love you more than anything.”

You feel your heart throb in your chest, and you have to focus really hard on stopping the swell of emotion from leaving through your tired eyes.

“Any time,” you say, nodding to emphasise your point. “I love you, and I’m here for you. Whatever you might need, I’ll do it.”

Tom’s warm brown eyes meet with yours, and the smile on his face shows no sign of leaving.

“All I need is you,” he says. His lips come down to yours, softly, just resting there. “All I’ll ever need is you.”

—

———

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