#which is to say it had climbed onto the lid and slowly meandered up to them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-lady-writes-what · 3 years

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Commission #2

I am so sorry @patchworkpuzzle that this took so long. There was a lot going on this month with family drama, work, school, and just...a lot of shit. I hope you like it.

Characters: Incubus/Demon! Sero Hanto x Fem! Reader

Contents: dub-con/non con, groping, fingering, overstimulation, mentions cervix, one spank

As always. I don’t write teenage characters. Sero Hanta is aged up and not even human. Also, minors DNI.

You meandered through the collection piled unto a table. The sun beat down on your neck. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of your face. Still, you couldn't resist a garage sale. In your arms, you already snagged some excellent finds, a couple of rare books, and a teacup. There was, however, one item that stole your attention away from everything else. No matter where you looked, your eyes were drawn to an ornate box. It was a round box made of silver filigree. Its three legs were shaped into lion's feet, claws included. Faces of animals, gargoyles, and twisted vines decorated the outside. You set aside your goodies to get a closer look at the trinket. When you picked it up, your first thought was, 'How odd.' It was hot outside, and you felt sweat running down your back beneath your shirt. And yet, the trinket box was cool to the touch. You remember as a kid scorching your hand on playground equipment when it got too hot during the summer, but you were able to pick up the box and examine it without issue. The filigree was unique, if not a little frightening. There was neither a lock nor a latch to seal it closed. You lifted the lid, and it creaked on its hinge. Inside, a mirror was affixed to the bottom of the cover. The trinket box held nothing but a velvet lining and a single ornate ring with a black and yellow gemstone. You set down the box to pull out the ring. There was no price tag on the ring, only on the trinket box. You quickly looked around, but the granddaughter running the sale didn't see you put the ring back. Sneaky as it was, you walked up with the trinket box in hand and everything else discarded. You thumbed the sides of the box almost lovingly. Then, you cradled it close to your chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. When the granddaughter finally finished with her other customer, you brought the trinket box with you. "How much for this?" You ask. "Fifty bu—" "No!" Heads turned towards the voice. Everyone looked to see an elderly lady hobbling out of the house in her bedclothes and her cane. Her face appeared red. Customers and neighbors got out of her way as she staggered towards her granddaughter. "Don't you dare!" The old woman shouted. "Don't you dare sell that! It's mine. Give it back!" She reached towards you to take the trinket box, but you were so shocked that you stepped out of her grasp. Her reaction just made you hold onto the box even tighter. "Gran, you need to get back into bed," her granddaughter scolded. "You can't sell that box. It's mine! Give it back!" The granddaughter, frustrated, turned towards you. "Forty dollars to get it out of here." She offered. "No!" The grandmother shouted. You had half a mind to give it back out of pity. The granddaughter had to physically restrain the woman to keep her from pouncing on you. The older woman's eyes were fixed on the box, grasping at air, trying to reach it. A deep possessive thought crossed your mind. A shudder ran down your spine because of it, but there was no way you were going to turn over the box to some senile old woman. You reached into your purse for your wallet while cradling the box to your chest. You hastily drew out forty dollars, at least what you thought was forty dollars, and briskly walked away. You were walking to your car when you heard the old woman wailing. There was a pinch of regret pricking your heart, but it was somehow easy to forget all about her. You could barely hear her granddaughter say in return, "You know we had to get rid of it."

Your new trinket found a home on your vanity in your bedroom. You couldn't help but glance at it while you relaxed after dinner. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and slinked off to bed in a silken nightgown. It was starting to drive you crazy how often you looked at the box just sitting there on your vanity. Before climbing under the sheets, you snatched the trinket and placed it on your bedside table. You laid in bed, pulled the covers up, and reached for the cord to turn off your lamp. Your hand grazed against the box, then you stopped. 'Put me on.' You didn't look around the room. A little voice inside your head urged you to open the box again and look inside. And so, you did. The lid creaked open. The bejeweled ring still lay inside. Not knowing what urged you to slip it on your finger, you put it on anyway. You held your hand up to see the ring on your ring finger. Its color dazzled you. However, you couldn't help but be curious about one thing. When looking at the ring in its box, it looked much more prominent. When you were pulling it on, it certainly felt bigger. Now, it snugly fits around your left ring finger. You didn't at all question it when you finally turned off the light and pulled the blankets up to your neck. You turned to your right side so you could see the yellow and black stone shine in the moonlight. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, which was odd because of how often you laid in bed and stare at the ceiling. Tonight, though, your eyelids fluttered shut after a short while. A weight settled over you like a thick blanket. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet dreamer, a finger protruded from the empty space where the ring once was enthroned. A spindly, spider-like finger stabbed through the air. Despite the box's size, four more fingers appeared, rising like a mountain from a black sea. Soon, a hand emerged, then an arm. A bone-white shoulder arose next. Following, a neck. A human head appeared with short black hair, a triangular mouth set with teeth like stakes, and two bronze horns. Gold and black spiraled around the horns on top of its head, cresting out of the impossibly small crevice. Finally, a whole body emerged out of the silver trinket box. It clattered off the bedside table at the taloned feet of the one it imprisoned. Sharp black eyes stared down at your slumbering form and licked its lips. For a while, the thing stared. It stood by your bed and toyed with the blanket, protecting you from the cold and from him. However, the blanket was useless to hide your form from his penetrating gaze. He could see right through it and through your flimsy nightgown. He made out the shape of your body, all of its curves and edges, dips and scars. A clawed finger caressed your cheek as he waited for the timing to be just right. Midnight struck after he waited by your bedside, slowly driving himself mad. Finally, when the hour struck, the creature crawled into bed with you. He pulled the blankets and sheets away from your body. You were so sound asleep that you didn't even flinch. But he chuckled to himself. It was no ordinary sleep. His power lulled you into a false slumber so his plans could fall into place. Without the blanket to cover you, he crawled up to you. His long arms snaked around your waist and under your chest. He was naked from head to toe. His cock poked the small of your back as he began humping you. The flimsy garment of yours and your tiny shorts was like nothing once his advances began. The thick fog in your mind lifted, and your eyes fluttered open. You found two long arms wrapped around your torso. Something long and hard was poking you in the back as a body snapped its hips against your ass. Your first instinct was to scream or claw at the arms pinning to an unknown man's chest. You couldn't bring yourself to yell for help or fight back at all. Your heart was racing as fast as your mind. A growing sensation built up in your lower belly. You could feel yourself clench down there around nothing and something slick grow between your legs. A whimper ripped from your throat as the man humped you from behind. "Ah, I see you're finally awake. I was wondering why my spell was taking so long," said he. "S-Spell? What…spell?" Words could barely form in your brain, let alone leave your mouth. Tingles ran up your spine. Suddenly, he stopped. The arms that trapped you loosened and fell away. Just when you thought you could book it for the door, you were forcibly turned onto your back where pitch-black eyes met yours. You gasped in horror at the odd mouth smiling down at you, and even more so because of the sharpness. They were something out of 'IT.' Black hair fell around bronze horns. Any thoughts about screaming were thrown right out of the window. "Sero," he said. "What?" Your brows furrowed. What was he trying to say now? Something in a foreign language, perhaps. "My name. My true name is incomprehensible to you humans, and trying to pronounce it would cause you to go insane, so this is the name I go by while I'm free. You will call me Sero, won't you?" "W-Why should I?" You growled. Your hands snatched his arms, and you pierced him with your nails. But the skin did not break, it did not streak, it did not even a single red mark when you dragged your fingernails across his skin. You only felt corded muscles tighten. Sero groaned at your protest and bit his lower lip. It sank into you that he liked it. Any fighting back would have the same result; it would just turn him on more. You glanced down the length of his body just to see what you were dealing with. Horns, sharp teeth, pointed ears, talons, and a cock that would split any woman in two. He was no mere mortal. "Because the more you say my name while I fuck you, the more power you give me. So, shall we get started?" He asked with a menacing grin. You opened your mouth to protest, only to be tugged and forced onto your knees on your mattress. The demon Sero sat behind you, muscled chest firmly against your back. He licked and nibbled on your neck and shoulders, even kissed your earlobes. Your knees shook as his large hands maneuvered up and down your body. He grasped your thighs, hips, and waist. Sero trailed one hand up your ribs while he places the other on your neck. He didn't choke you but merely kept his hand there—a power move. The hand not holding your neck moved up your body and stopped at your chest. Sero groped each breast and trailed his hand back down. Finally, he moved his hand from your neck and grasped your breast. He tweaked your nipple through the nightgown while he roamed down your front. Boney fingers found their way through your clothes, into your shorts, and flicked your clit. Teeth tugged the straps off your shoulders. Sero played with your clit and breast to distract you from the fact that he was humping you again. "Kiss me," he ordered. You turned your head to meet his. You kissed him, head-heavy. Warmth continued to grow in your stomach and spread like a virus. Somehow, your shorts disappeared, but your nightgown did not. Sero's fingers sank into your wet sheath, growing wetter by the second. Sero released you from the kiss that all but drained you. "Do you hear that?" He asked. You tried to listen for a sound yet heard nothing. "Don't you hear how wet your cunny is for me? Your body is making such lewd noises just for me, and I've barely even touched you. Wanna ride my fingers, sweetheart?" Before you could answer, Sero pumped his fingers inside. The burn that came from three fingers plowing into you made you cry out. Your hips moved of their own accord. They moved up and down to match the tempo of the fingers already reaching deep into your cunt. He whispered dirty sweet nothings in your ear about how wet you were for him and how your whimpers were music to his ears. You didn't even notice the sounds you were making. But you did when you screamed after riding his fingers buried inside your cunt. You came down hard. Your orgasm ripped down your spine like a rocket. You coated his whole hand in your fluids, and it splashed all over your inner thighs and soaked our sheets. Sero brought his three fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. "Now that you're well-prepped—" Sero yanked down your nightgown until it bunched around your waist. You realized that something happened to your shorts you'd been wearing underneath but don't remember when he took them off. Sero pushed open your folds with his fingers again and stretched you open. He ripped a breathy moan from you as he pushed you forward and teased your cunt with slow pumps of his fingers. He adjusted your legs so that they were spread painfully apart. He lifted your hips high in the air and made sure that your face was firmly planted into the mattress. "Normally, I'd romance you a bit more, but I've been stuck in that box for sixty years. I have a lot of pent-up energy. Please forgive and excuse my eagerness." His eagerness came with an extra package. You clawed at your bed to the point of ripping the fabric as the blunt head entered, followed by the long, stiff shaft. Sero pushed it in slowly to make sure you realized just how many inches were going to be buried in your cunt. Sero's cock was so long that it hit your cervix by the time he bottomed out. You wailed and bit into your sheets and clenched them between your teeth. Sero grabbed your hips and started to move. Skin clapping against each other loud enough to fill the room and your senses. Your body shuddered with every thrust. Every time Sero moved his cock inside of you, the impact sent ripples through your flesh. He was as gentle as a demon could be after spending decades locked up in a box. Your pussy became acclimated to his size, or you ignored the feeling altogether. You were only half-aware of the screams he elicited from you. Soon, he grabbed your wrists, pulled them behind your back, and held them there with one hand. Your fingers clenched and unclenched around nothing while Sero continued to drive you mad with his cock. Surrender was coming your way as soon as you realized that your hips moving in tandem with Sero's. Your toes curled, and so too did your fingers. A white-hot-searing sensation built up and up and up all along your spine. Pleasure formed in your brain until it shot down your nervous system straight to your cunt. Your walls cinched around his cock. Sero's hand came down on your ass, causing another ripple of pleasure to course through your brain. That was the first of many orgasms. Sero had the stamina of a hundred men and continued until early dawn began creeping through the window. There was no cum seeping out of your abused cunt when you woke up, still laying face down in the mattress. You moaned loudly as you urged your legs to move out of their stretched position. You stumbled to your vanity to look at your reflection in the mirror. Your nightgown was still bunched around your waist. Meanwhile, teeth marks and hickies reminded you of the late-night activities that likely caused the dark circles under your eyes. Your hair was a tangled mess and around your wrists cuff-like bruises that could have only been made by someone gripping you too tight. Your eyes immediately go for the trinket box on your bedside table. Except it wasn't there.

#my hero acadmia #mha #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha smut #tw: toxic relationship #tw dub con #tw noncon #demon!sero #incubus!Sero #fem reader #he's 18+#18+ only #Minors begone #minors dni #minors do not interact #comissions #commission entry

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winterisakillerwrites · 4 years

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Brave Face - Part Two

Title: Brave Face

One Shot: 2/3

Character: Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Genre: Angst

Rating: M

Summary: A wedding is one of the happiest days of one’s life. It is the beginning of the future and for Amelia Evans this was no different. Tom HIddleston stood watching her as she walked down the aisle while considering every choice that had brought him here. For better or worse, his life was fundamentally changed.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So full disclosure this story came about completely by accident. I had this vague idea in my head and it probably would have stayed that way had I not been talking to @redfoxwritesstuff and said “So I have this idea…”. This literally grew from a ‘huh, this should be straight forward’ to ‘holy fuck what have I gotten myself into?!’. All in all this is a 13,000 word one shot that has been split into three parts to make for easier posting/reading. Hope you all enjoy.

Tom couldn’t say for sure how long he sat on the bed, hands cradling his head, his breathing coming in soft, swallow pants; it felt like hours and like no time at all. The abrupt rap of knuckles on the door slowly brought him back around to himself. Mechanically, he pulled himself to his feet and shuffled towards the door. He unlocked and pulled it open, eyes blinking at the bright light flooding in from the hall. He found Luke standing there, exasperation painting his features.

“I’ve been calling for the last…” His voice trailed off as he looked past Tom and into the room, his eyes widening. “Tom…What the fuck happened?”

“She’s really gone.” The words fell from Tom’s lips in a broken whisper. “She isn’t coming back.”

Luke blinked at him in confusion for several moments before a pitied understanding spread across his face and shook his head. “No, Tom. I really don’t think that she is.” He brought a comforting hand down onto Tom’s shoulder. They stood silently for several moments before Luke spoke once more. “You have a meeting in half an hour…” Luke trailed off as he caught the look of bleary confusion on Tom’s worn face. He sighed and elaborated, “With the producers regarding your latest auction…would you like to postpone it? I can make a few phone calls…”

Tom’s head shot up and he vehemently shook his head. “No. No, I can’t. Absolutely not…This is important. If I put it off now I’ve as good as lost the role…No…” He took a deep breath, gathering himself. “No. Give me five minutes and we can go.” He didn’t wait for Luke’s response before turning back into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

Five minutes later, cleanly shaven and as respectable as he could make himself, Tom followed Luke down into the hotel’s lobby and into a waiting cab. He was a bundle of nerves, his leg bouncing involuntarily as the cab meandered its way through the early afternoon traffic.

It had taken nearly the entire journey for Tom to gain hold of himself. To calm his frayed nerves and slip back into the confident and controlled professional he needed to be. But by the time he had entered the conference room, Luke and his US agent, David, at his side, and shook each of the producers’ hands, it was as though nothing whatsoever had happened. He was charming and engaging, a consummate professional by all standards. They chatted amicably and while nothing had been set in stone, the producers seemed keen to have him on board and for that he was exceedingly grateful. With a bright smile and a firm handshake, Tom thanked them for their time and the opportunity to discuss the roll before following Luke and David from of the room.

The ride back to the hotel was spent in silence; Tom staring out of the window at passing traffic, Luke sorting through emails while never quite taking his eyes off of his friend’s tense form. As soon as they’d pulled in front of the lobby, Tom had excused himself and headed straight for the hotel bar. He didn’t care that it was only just late afternoon and by all means far too early. He was in desperate need of a drink.

Three whiskeys later, Tom was feeling little pain. The smiles that he’d been forcing all day had slowly started to come easier and he’d found he’d been able to simply shut the quiet, defeated voice that plagued his mind throughout the day off. It was wonderful. He chatted openly with the people surrounding him; laughing and joking, sharing stories. Forgetting.

At one point he found himself distracted by a flirty, feminine laugh tickled his ear, pulling at his attention as she pulled lightly at his arm. He turned to find a petite blonde watching him through lidded eyes. She was absolutely gorgeous; thin frame wrapped in a well-fitting navy dress, hair flowing over her tanned shoulder, eyes bright and attentive. He wasted no time in returning her smile and refilling her drink. She whispered her name into his ear and he’d managed to forget it as soon as she’d spoken the last syllable. It didn’t matter anyway, he didn’t need to know her name to know just what it was she was offering or to allow himself to take it.

They finished their drinks quickly, exchanging knowing touches and heated looks. The tension burned between them. There was no question where this was headed. She leaned over and whispered a number into his ear. It took several moments for its meaning to become clear in his clouded mind. Her room number. He nodded and placed his glass neatly onto the bar.

Her hand fully ensconced in his, Tom pulled her from the bar and quietly towards the elevators. His eyes darted around automatically, making sure the path was clear. No one seemed to be paying him any mind and he felt a part of him relax. The last thing he wanted, or honestly needed, was for another set of photographs of him to be taken and released. Luke would flay him alive.

As the elevator doors slipped silently shut, he pulled her fully against him, his lips trailing the heated path from her earlobe across her neck and finally to her mouth. She moaned at his touch and he reveled in the sense of power it called forth in him. She wanted him and by god it felt amazing. They stumbled from the elevator as the doors opened and quickly down the empty hall into her room. A trail of clothing followed them from the door towards the large bed.

Their hands wandered, grabbing and caressing as they went. He had forced himself to pause enough to ensure they had protection; he had far too much at stake to risk everything for the sake of pleasure. She’d smiled and pulled a foil packet from the table near the bed handing it to him with a wink. It didn’t take long for him to lose himself in sensation; to shudder at the feel of her hands on his length, to lose himself in the warmth of her body. He chased pleasure through her and felt her do the same. It was simple and messy and overwhelming and he gave himself willingly to it.

He collapsed onto his back, panting as his lungs fought to obtain the oxygen they so desperately needed. He could feel her warm body pressed against his, her hair tickling his shoulder and for just a moment if he squinted just right, he could pretend she was someone else. His heart lurched at the thought and he quickly shoved it away. No. He steadfast refused to even entertain that idea. Not here, not like this. Not now.

When he was certain that she was asleep, Tom untangled himself from the bed clothes and quickly dressed. He didn’t bother leaving a note or his number. This wasn’t that kind of arrangement. He made his way silently back to the elevator and finally into his own room. It had been straightened sometime in the several hours since he’d left it, owing to Luke no doubt. On his pillow he found a new mobile with a note attached. ‘Try not to break this one.’

He shook his head with a sigh, moving to place the phone onto the dresser, and tossed the note aside. Stripping himself once more he padded into the bathroom and into the shower. Turning the water as hot as he could stand, he washed himself without active thought. He lingered briefly in the soothing heat, enjoying the feel of the beating water on his back, the way he helped to ease the tightness in his shoulders and the tension in his neck. He’d stay there forever if he could. Reaching out he turned off the taps and slowly climbed out into the chilled air of the bathroom. He grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it loosely around his hips, heading back into the main room and letting himself collapse on the bed in hopes of catching whatever feeble amount of sleep he was able.

The next several months sped by in much the same way. During the days and evenings, Tom played his role well; he attended events, smiled and chatted with everyone he’d met, was charming and polite without fail. He prepared for his latest roles and made sure to keep in touch with his family as often as he could. Things, however, remained frosty between Emma and himself but he had hope as time passed the chilliness between them would thaw.

At night, however, he was scarcely, if ever, alone. The flings rarely lasted longer than a fortnight and they were always discrete. Never at his hotel or his home and never where an inopportune photograph could be captured and sold or, at least, not easily so. He never made any of the women he bedded promises and he never asked for more than the simple sharing of their bodies. It was infinitely easier that way; no expectations, no demands, no promises. Especially with the whirlwind his life had become, and, in all likelihood, looked to remain. There simply wasn’t time for anything more…And honestly he hadn’t wanted anything beyond a few passionate nights. Far, far easier to keep things this way.

If Luke had any objections to Tom’s behavior, he played those cards close to his chest. He was well aware of what was going on, Tom was certain of it, but said nothing. There were times, though, when Tom was sure he could see a hint of disappointment and disapproval in his publicist’s eyes. But still Luke never said a word. Which, as far as Tom was concerned, was all for the best. As long as his indiscretions remained out of the papers Luke had little grounds in which to give him grief. He was an adult, and an unattached one at that, his choice in bed partners was his own. He was discreet and he was careful. Never without protection and never where he could be caught. He’d learned that lesson far too well.

And he was happy, for the most part. He was able to live a life that most people never could; he traveled the world, had the chance to meet and interact with people he’d admired and respected, got to do what he loved and not have to worry where his next meal would come from. He was lucky and he knew it. Things weren’t perfect but they were working, it was all he could ask for.

By late the following September, Tom found himself back home without out the looming threat of months of living out of suitcases and hotel rooms. Rehearsals for Coriolanus were due to begin in the coming month and he was overjoyed to be able to sink his teeth into such a role, to explore this character and walk around in his skin, especially if meant being able to sleep in his own bed.

It was to be a small production in the West End and the actors he was set to work with were among some of the best in the field. He was honored and nervous and overjoyed all at once. It had been far too long since he’d been on stage, he’d missed it. He’d loved the adventure of constantly moving but months and months on end of it had left him longing for a small bit of stability. For a moment to catch his breath, metaphorically, before diving headlong into the chaos once more. And when this role had fallen into his lap, he’d grasped it with both hands and hadn’t looked back. There wouldn’t be another opportunity to do this.

He’d spent the last free evening before rehearsals were set to start out in SoHo with friends. He’d not had the chance to do something like this with these people in far too long. Laughter had filled most of the night as he sat trading stories and trying to catch up with all he’d missed while he’d been away. He’d stumbled over his shoe lace as they’d started their migration towards the next pub and called out for them to carry on while he stopped to tie it.

Tying one’s shoe became infinitely more difficult when one was well on their way to being completely and thoroughly pissed. Tom found himself muttering curses as the laces stubbornly refused to comply with his wishes. It had taken far longer than it should have to tie the blasted things than he’d bargained for and he’d started after his friends, still cursing, when something caught his eye. He turned, without thinking, towards the window of the small Italian restaurant he’d stopped beside and froze.

It had been well over a year since he’d seen her and now suddenly there she was. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a single plait that rested on her shoulder, her dress was dark green and wrapped around her figure in the most alluring way, a warm smile lit her features as she walked hand in hand beside a tall dark haired man that Tom didn’t recognize. She looked happier than he’d seen in her in ages and it felt as though his heart had shattered in his chest. She’d moved on. Of course she had; he’d known that someday it would happen. How could it not? But he hadn’t expected it to sting quite this much.

He turned on his heel and stumbled off in the direction he hoped was towards the next pub he and his friends had collectively agreed on. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe. Why here, why now? He was fine. He’d been fine…And now…Tom shook his head, trying desperately to clear his thoughts. It took what felt like forever for him to find what he was certain was the correct pub. And upon doing so, he pushed through the crowded door, and scanned the room for a familiar face. No one. He searched again to make certain. Not a single one. Just fucking great.

Tom made his way towards the bar and dropped onto the nearest open stool. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Amy’s face flashed before him; her eyes bright and smile wide. The way she used to always look at him…The way he saw her look at the man tonight. Bile rose in his throat and he fought the urge to scream in frustration. Dammit, why now? He’d been fine!

He hadn’t been seated long before he felt the warmth of a hand resting on his shoulder.

“Hello handsome,” a voice rich as honey whispered in his ear, sending a spasm of shivers down his spine. Tom turned, his eyes settling on the tall form of a curvy red-head. It was a touch too dark for him to make out the color of her eyes with any degree of certainty but he could clearly see the desire in them.

“Well hello,” he practically purred in response. He flashed his best smile, the one he knew would seal almost any deal. The one he’d used on every woman that’s managed to catch his eye.

“Anna,” she stated, her eyes locked on his in anticipation, a manicured eyebrow lifted in questioning response.

“Tom,” he answered, his own brow raising. “Now, Anna, may I buy you a drink?”

She laughed and nodded enthusiastically before leaning over to whisper her drink of choice in his ear, her lips brushing against his skin. He smiled at her once more, knowing it wouldn’t take much to move this flirtation along. She was clearly eager and more than willing. He turned back to the bar, waving to catch the attention of the barkeep.

Several drinks later found them ensconced in a darkened corner, his hands resting dangerously low on her hips. He pulled her towards him, pressing his lips fully against hers. She took no time deepening the kiss, grinding herself into his pelvis. He groaned against her lips as he felt his body respond. This was what he’d needed. And desperately.

Tom let her lead him out of the pub, both of them shivering slightly in the suddenly chilled air. He wasn’t sure which of them hailed the cab but he doesn’t hesitate to climb inside. He half listened as she rattled off her address, not much caring exactly where she took him as long as the night ended with her beneath him, and him inside of her.

Her flat was situated on the end of a relatively quiet street. The stairs that lead into the building were half hidden in shadow and she fumbled with the key several times before finally getting the lock open. They stumbled inside, his hands immediately landing on her hips to pull her body against his. His fingers danced beneath the hem of her short blue dress and made quick work of divesting her of it. Her hands, in turn, moved with just as much speed shedding him of his shirt and trousers. They stumbled between heated kiss towards the back of the flat and into her cramped bedroom.

Kicking off their remaining bits of clothing, Tom pulled her onto the bed situating himself above her heated form. She looked up at him through lowered lashes, raising her hips to press into his. His lips crashed against hers, pulling her tightly to him as he settled between her spread thighs. A quick jerk of his hips and he’s seated deeply inside of her. He felt the rush of air from her lungs hot against his cheek. Their rhythm is erratic and he knew it wouldn’t take long to push himself over the edge. His let his hand snake between them to work her towards her release as quickly as possible. Their moans filled the small room mingled with the frantic sound of skin against skin. A mumbled curse was his only warning before his rhythm faltered. He felt her clamp tightly around him as he pumped once. Twice. Three times before stilling.

Wordlessly, he rolled off of her and onto his back. An all too familiar unease plagued him, one that should have burned away in the wake of release, and he couldn’t understand why. Why hadn’t this worked? This had always, always, worked. Beside him, Tom felt the mattress shift. He turned his head to see her roll up to sit on the edge of the bed. His eyebrow rose in silent question. She nodded down the hall. “Bathroom. This was nice but I’d rather not completely ruin my sheets.” With that she stood and padded out of the room.

Shit, he thought, realizing that he had his own matters to attend to. Tom rolled himself over until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Mindlessly, he reached down, preparing to pull of the used…Panic lanced through him. No. No. No. No. Please God, no. He looked down again, praying he’d been mistaken, but there was still nothing there but his own skin. God, he was going to be sick.

It took moments to scramble around the room, grabbing his pants and shirt. He tugged them on and stumbled into the hallway in search of his jeans. He fought the urge to vomit, his mind screaming that he had been stupid. So very, very stupid. He heard her voice call down the hallway, “Where are you going?”

He spun in his heel to face her. “We didn’t use…Why did you let us…Why didn’t you stop me?” The question fell from his lips without thought. He watched her face flitted through a mired of emotions.

She shrugged, “it’s not that big of a deal. I’m on the shot if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Tom sputtered in disbelief. “Are you serious? Is that what I’m…?” His voice trailed off, incomprehension spread across his features. He took a deep breath and snapped, “that right now is the very least of my worries.” Without another word, he pulled on his jeans and shoved his feet into his boots and left.

He lost his battle with his nerves halfway down the stairs of her building and bent over the railing, vomiting onto the darkened sidewalk. Coughing and dry heaving, Tom fought to gain control of himself. It took several minutes for the world to cease tilting violently from side to side and once it had, he righted himself and continued on his path. He walked for what felt like hours before finding and waving down a passing black cab.

“Where to?”

Tom rattled off the address without thought and it wasn’t until the cab had rolled to a stop that he realized just where he was. He paid his fare and stepped out into the night. With a quick look upwards at the light shining through the upper story window, Tom forced himself to take a deep breath, before climbing the stairs and leaning on the doorbell.

With a shuddering force the front door swung inwards revealing a red faced and angry Luke clad in checked pajama bottoms and a dark t-shirt. “Just what the fucking hell do you think you’re playing at? Do you have any idea what fucking time it…?” his voice trailed off mid-tirade as his eyes settled on Tom’s disheveled and shaking form. “Tom?” He breathed in confusion. “What’s…?”

Tom swallowed thickly, running his hands through his hair and blinking back tears. “I fucked up, Luke. I think I fucked up really, really badly this time.”

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Brave Face

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

Text

#Fictober Day 9

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

(Okoye x W’Kabi)

Word Count: 1.5k

Okoye was up early one morning, not able to sleep. It has been harder and harder to come by since the infamous civil war in Wakanda now a few weeks ago. The bombardment of weapons on either side, the senseless killings that ravaged their nation among themselves was unforeseen prior to that day.

The rebuilding process was just about done but the emotional and mental wounds were far more difficult to mend. There was to be the funeral for Okoye’s Dora Milaje counterpart Xoliswa, who was killed by Erik. Being the first Dora killed in combat, the rules of funeral arrangements were off the cuff, setting a precedence that they all hoped would not be a common occurrence.

The destruction of various fields throughout Wakanda needed to be tended to before choosing where to bury Xoliswa. Eventually, one had been chosen by a cliff that oversaw the River Province. The grass smelled sweet, and the sunset beautifully over it.

Okoye instructed the other Dora to wear their full gear to the ceremony, making her way to the burial grounds to make sure all was accounted for. Ayo was there already, overseeing the sunrise.

“Good morning, General. I hope you were able to rest some last night?” Ayo asked, saluting Okoye.

Okoye pauses before replying. “As best as one can. Are the others on the way?”

“Yes. They should be arriving any moment.” Ayo says, looking down at the casket in front of them.

The Jabari tribe offered their services to create a beautiful, strong structure for their comrade to be laid to rest in, trimmed with gold and red adornments and rank indicated on top.

“They did a wonderful job with the...craftsmanship.” Okoye replied, clearing her throat.

Ayo nods. “Indeed. They had been a great help to us since the war on Wakanda. If one can say anything good came from it, that might be.”

“I will stick with ‘if’, if you don’t mind, Ayo….” Okoye says, lightly running her fingers across the wood grains on the box. Xoliswa was right there, underneath the lid, but far from there. Okoye’s vision gets blurry as she holds her eyes closed a moment, willing her tears back from whence they came.

A hand finds the middle of her back. When Okoye opens them, Ayo is standing beside her, comforting her. Despite their outward appearance and posture, it is commonplace for the Dora Milaje to express their emotions properly. They were not robots and they prided themselves on the fact; knowing each other and what was going on in each others lives helped to keep their morale at its peak.

Okoye nodded, grateful to Ayo for her compassion before collecting herself as the other Dora arrived, T’Challa in tow. They stood around the casket of their beloved comrade in silence as the sun continued to rise, before T’Challa spoke a few words.

“I am forever grateful for the invitation to be here and speak on behalf of you all. The Dora Milaje are the fiercest and most capable warriors the world has ever seen. Undefeated, to this very day in their plight to protect Wakanda and its people, as well as those outside of its borders when necessary. These facts are well known, but what may not be fully realized is how much the Dora give to the community with their hearts as well. The people of Wakanda are not fearful of their officers of authority, which is a minority way of thinking. The Dora are human beings first. People with a heart for those who need help, love for their country and all who inhabit it. They are the epitome of what a good warrior can be when allowed to feel, and be themselves. Xoliswa died with honor, and no regret for her time served with the Dora Milaje, pronouncing her loyalty to country with her last breath. Her service will never be taken for granted and her personhood will never be forgotten.” T’Challa finished by walking up to a vibranium plaque that sat at the head of the casket, and would remain, in remembrance of the first Dora lost to enemy hands. The plaque read a prayer to Bast and the ancestors for the safe travel of their sister to the heavens.

At this point all of the Dora had tears streaming their faces, but not a one wiped them away. They experienced a hurt that many could not understand, for they were a sisterhood that few could even enter, much less get to know about. One gone was too many, and it took everything in their power to not feel like they were walking with a limp whenever they assembled together. Okoye lead a chant of encouragement, chorused by her sisters as the winds picked up around them. They danced and yipped, holding their spears in the air in celebration for their friends ascendence to the ancestors.

Once the ceremony finished, Okoye dismissed the Dora to their residences to have the day off (or at least to remain on call if needed). Okoye would arrange for the burial of Xoliswa that evening by some volunteers from the Mining tribe. As the ceremony ended well, Okoye still felt unwell, empty. She had not gotten all of the closure she hoped to get from the funeral services and needed to clear her head a bit.

Walking down to the border, the smell of rhinoceros hit her nostrils. It was putrid, sure, but the she loved them so it was almost gave her euphoria, for it had been so long since she seen them.

Approaching the fence slowly, one rhino notices her and meanders up to her. Okoye holds her hand out, careful not to spook the animal. Once it got a whiff of her hand, it gave her a lick, making Okoye laugh. Her laughter grew stronger as the climbed over the fence to hug the beast, feeling its worn but soft, wrinkly hide. Her cheeks hurt from the smiling, as she hadn’t in a long time, and tears flooded her eyes once more.

“It is good to see you, General.” a voice said behind her.

Okoye straightens up, not out of fear, but anxiety of the person she knew too well. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

W’Kabi leans on the fence, petting the rhino. “It is my province, is it not?”

“Can you claim any bit of Wakanda after what you have down?!” Okoye hissed, climbing over the fence and walking across the field.

W’Kabi jogs up to her. “I miss you, Okoye.”

“That is not what I want to hear right now. Where were you?” Okoye whips around to ask him.

Looking down at his feet, he says, “T’Challa thought it best I not show up on account of...everything. May have been too much for the other Dora-”

“And why is now the better moment for you? Huh? I JUST buried my friend, WHY NOW?!”

W’Kabi steps to touch Okoye, but she pulls back in a defensive stance. Her staff not out, yet. “You are the love of my life, Okoye. We are one, I cannot keep on without you by my side.”

“I was by your side! Even at your worst, I still loved you! You undermined me in front of that, that kretin of a human being who wanted to wreak havoc on the world!”

W’Kabi keeps his face soft, trying to reason. “I know, I know that now. I was just...too angry with how the world could go on the way it has been. How it took my parents from me, like thieves in the night, and I had no justice. That time seemed like the moment for it.”

Okoye laughs maniacally. “So the best way was to partner with the man who was an associate of the man who killed your parents. The enemy of your enemy, is your friend? Even after five minutes of introduction?”

W’Kabi blinks hard. “It was a silly notion, I admit. That is why I need you, with me. So I can make things right.”

Okoye points a finger towards W’Kabi. “I will not fix your mess! I will not be your counselor, your guide, or your mother! I care for you, and I always will, W’Kabi. But not once have you apologized for my loss. You may have been imprisoned, but a letter would suffice to let me know how deeply sorry you are. I cannot forgive what your ego made you do. I cannot stand by you, not now. Lives were lost, the most since that attack that claimed your parents. You realize you have transposed your own hurt onto future generations? Sick and angry over their loved ones dying, unnecessarily? Tell me how does that feel?”

W’Kabi is frozen, completely speechless at that revelation.

Okoye waves him away, tired and frustrated. “Go to your friend, T’Challa. While he is thankfully still with us. Make amends with him and look within yourself to see why you would risk life and limb for an outside influence, when the people who know and love you were not enough.”

#fictober18 #okoye x w'kabi #black panther fanfic #fanfic #shakafic

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demialwrites · 6 years

Text

A Dog Needs a Leash Ch 5

You arrived home. In the bedroom, Genji followed you like an obedient puppy, with his eyes and his steps. You stripped down for him to see and crawled onto the bed on your back. You beckoned him over and pointed to the space between your legs.

Genji roughly and hastily removed his clothes also. He climbed on the bed. Without you having to ask, he applied his mouth to your heat. He took a long, probing, meandering lick from the bottom of your entrance to your clit, then closed his lips around your nub to suck. Deciding that this needed to continue, you closed your thighs around his head to keep him there and rocked into the sensation.

Genji was a good boy and didn't stop until you came. He had earned his fuck, so you let his head go.

"Stay sitting up," you ordered.

"Whatever you desire," he tried to say seductively, "uhhhhh, Wife...?"

"Mrs. Shimada."

He heaved a breath. "That is still weird for me, being married."

That didn't put a damper on his need. He inched closer on his knees, seeking your cunt with his cock. He slid inside you, fitting perfectly with minimum stretch. He dug his fingers into where your hips met your thighs and moved slowly, rocking on the mattress gently. Respectfully.

"Faster," you said, growing bored of this.

The slap between your bodies became more audible. His mouth fell open as he panted. He looked down, and through lidded eyes, saw your body tensing and relaxing as waves of pleasure gently overwhelmed your core. While you were lost in that, he snuck his hand over to rest it on your inner thigh. His ego inflated a bit each time your thighs flexed and your lower body arched up to seek more of the pleasure he was giving you.

His cockhead skimmed the sensitive spots on the front of your walls. And just as you planned, the position allowed you to roughly palm a breast and also rub your clit. You couldn't trust him to handle your pleasure just yet.

"Don't stop until I'm done," you told him with a trembling voice once you had your half of this in control.

Been given his task, he shut his eyes. His tongue peeked out of his lips as he went hard into your heat. The bed shook, and you let your moans pierce the air.

Sleeping with Genji once, and then deciding you would sleep with him again thereafter for the sake of baby-making, opened the floodgates. A flood of cum, that is. Genji either conveniently forgot what the outcome of unprotected sex was, or he warmed up to the idea of having a little one. You seriously doubted it was the latter, judging by the way he took any opportunity to do the dirty. Anywhere. Almost every erection he got was satisfied by sex. He coaxed you down off your high horse, and you opened your legs for him in the back seat of one of the family cars. You bent over the sink in a single-occupant bathroom at the restaurant he took you to. During dinner at home, if you were amenable, he cleared all the servants out. He scooted over to sit underneath you. You sat on his dick but ignored him to eat your dinner.

"But I want my wife!" he protested, his hand seeking your clit.

"And I'm hungry!" you said, pulling that hand away.

That's not to say that he was in control. Anyone looking him in his blown irises or watching him palm his throbbing cock through his pants as mere foreplay could see that his current mistress was lust. If he was an animal, he would have been fixed at the vet long ago. But he was also obedient, backing off when you turned around and warded him off with a single finger to his little nose.

"Not right now," you said.

His fingers crawled up his face into his hair, and he growled, but he fucked off. To take care of his own need or whatever it was he did.

Genji had energy to burn off. Each muscle was restless, each atom of his being vibrated. He couldn't believe what happened next; he put on his dusty sparring gear and went to the dojo to train. The Genji before marrying you would have just slunk off to find another willing orifice to sink his cock into. Or take one himself.

Presently, Genji was feeling pretty good about himself until Hanzo ended the sparring session with a decisive shout.

"You need to calm down!"

Hanzo was in awe, and a little shaken, by the ferocity with which Genji had been claiming victory lately. Each time you shut down Genji's advances, he turned around and took it out on Hanzo. He channelled his energy into his second-favourite activity, combat. Fighting was as much play as flirting and fucking to him. In this way, Genji felt more in control of his life. Because you kept him in check. Your control was his control. If at any point, sparring and training weren't enough, he returned to see if you had changed your mind.

"Please. I have been a good husband," he begged, voice breathy but whiny.

He knelt in front of your seated figure, his out-stretched arms clinging to your hips like a man drowning. Drowning in his lust. His hands were a respectful distance from your heat. His mussed hair, leftover sweat, and puppy eyes gave him a neglected look.

#genji x reader #female reader #smut #young genji #my shit #dom!reader #sub!genji

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fabermemorialrink · 7 years

Text

Day 2 of nurseydex week (bed sharing/room sharing)! Continues in the same universe as day 1.

“Come on up,” Dex says as he unlocks the door. There are trees lining the sidewalk in front of the brick building, and at this time of night, even only a few streets away from the nearest T station, the city is quiet. It’s as quaint as you can get in a metropolitan setting without having to move far west enough to wind up in the suburbs, and Dex admits that he’s grown used to it.

“I’m still blown away by how good you got at riding the subway,” Nursey says, nudging him with an elbow as they climb the stairs to Dex’s fourth floor apartment. “Remember that time you somehow wound up over in Queens?” he asks, teasing.

“That’s because your stupid train routes make zero sense,” Dex gripes.

“You’re a smart guy, Dex; you can figure out public transportation. I believe in you. Besides, it’s not that much better here.”

“It’s easier! There’s only five lines.” Nursey rolls his eyes.

“And I quote, ‘The green line is literally the fifth circle of hell and I hate everyone on it, including myself.’ Said by you only three weeks ago. Insightful, really.”

“One, that was a one-off comment, and two, okay, it wasn’t. I mean that always; the green line is a travesty and a curse. Trains are bad.”

“Well, I’m just proud of you for not throwing down against the ticket machine,” Nursey laughs.

They're more or less meandering upwards, slowly working off the heaviness of dinner and drinks. In the cool stillness of an early June evening, the glow of a late summer sunset seems still to be hanging in the air even though the day grows late. A thin line of music can be heard from through the walls - Édith Piaf, from what Dex can make out as they pass.

Nursey’s fingers brushes against Dex’s as they round the last flight, and Dex instinctively resists his desire to link their hands, then remembers that he can totally do that now. So he does, taking Nursey’s hand, then forcibly cracking two of his knuckles; Nursey yelps, and reflexively clenches his fingers hard around Dex’s until he’s wincing too.

“Ow, you dick, I’m trying to compliment you here,” Nursey says with a pout, and Dex leaves a kiss on the back of his hand before letting them into his apartment.

Nursey has a tendency these days to turn into jelly when he's both sleepy and a little drunk, so they manage to get a glass of water in him and kiss lazily against Dex’s fridge for a few minutes until he starts to dissolve into pudding in Dex’s arms.

“Well, that answers one question,” Dex says into a sea of dark curls as Nursey tries again to nap vertically on him and they begin listing toward one side.

“Mmm, yeah, I think the only sleeping with you I’m up to right now is the literal kind,” Nursey mumbles against his throat, and Dex gently starts walking them backwards toward his bedroom.

“Sounds good to me.” He keeps one hand at Nursey’s waist and the other at the small of his back to guide him across the floor. Nursey’s arms are still wrapped around him like a kite in a tree, but they manage despite his tendencies.

“I take back everything I said about your dancing skills,” Nursey says as Dex turns them so he can drop him softly on the bed without Nursey sending them both crashing to the ground.

“Pretty fly for a white guy, eh?”

“Wow, okay, never mind.” Nursey laughs quietly into the pillow as Dex flips him off and returns to undoing the buttons on his shirt. It's one that Dex recognizes, which means they've been dating for long enough that Dex has started to memorize the contents of Nursey's closet again. The thought doesn't annoy him the way it did back in school, when he’d reach for a shirt and come up with a soft-knit sweater because Nursey had accidentally stolen his clothes again.

Nursey’s hands come up to bracket Dex’s hips as each button is freed. They're older now, obviously, but he still looks as sweetly pliant as he used to those odd nights Dex helped put him to bed after a kegster. It had been a different kind of yearning back then, new and undefined and terrifying, too much for the fragile peace they were building between themselves to explore. That was the working excuse anyway, more and more inapplicable as time went on, but it was what Dex held onto to protect his heart.

Now, he can lean down and press a kiss to Nursey’s lips if he wants to, his heartbeat only skipping because Nursey can still leave him breathless no matter how many years pass. He does so, and Nursey tries to tug him down to the sheets as well, but he slips free.

“Nope, not yet. Your morning breath is bad enough as it is; it’s biological warfare when you don’t brush your teeth.”

Nursey whines, reaching for the hem of Dex’s shirt to try and ensnare him again. “Can't you just pour some mouthwash down my throat and call it a day?”

“Is drowning in listerine really the way you wanna go out?”

“Going out the way I came in: minty fresh.”

“Not tonight, you’re not,” Dex says, kicking off his socks as he walks toward the bathroom. He drops clothes as he goes - belt, and shirt, and undershirt - like a sexy striptease trail, except it’s not sexy; he’s just fucking lazy. He kept a lot of the habits he developed through a childhood of living in a crowded house with little personal space and privacy, but sometimes he indulges in the luxury of living on his own, and does stuff like throwing his clothes wherever he wants and eating nutella straight out of the jar with a spoon. Chowder was a terrible influence on his life.

He’s brushing his teeth when Nursey finally shuffles in wearing sweatpants and a Samwell Theater t-shirt (signed by Ford in sharpie) he stole from Dex’s drawers. He drapes himself over Dex’s shoulders and reaches around him to grab his brush and blindly squeeze toothpaste onto the bristles. He winds up with a glob as large as a floret of cupcake frosting and winces when it prickles on his tongue.

They fall back into the old patterns they grew used to while living together in college, pretending to jostle for space while they brush even though the only use Dex has for the mirror is to make faces at Nursey and Chowder through their reflections. Dex finishes washing his face first and backs away from the sink to give Nursey room. Like always, he's a step too slow to avoid the claw of death swooping in to smear moisturizer on his face in three pale streaks; with a customary grimace, he allows it to happen before rubbing the lotion vigorously in, ignoring the way Nursey shakes his head in disappointment.

Nursey is indeed minty fresh when they kiss again, but still as structurally sound as a melting flan, so Dex maneuvers them back to bed. Because he’s a considerate person even when only half-awake, Nursey has tossed all of Dex’s shedded clothing onto his chair so they don’t wind up a very romantically injured accident on the floor. They flop onto Dex’s slightly too-small-for-two bed foregoing the covers even though the summer heat hasn’t grown sticky yet.

“You wanna be the big spoon or the little spoon?” Nursey asks, turning his head against Dex’s pillow to watch him with those lovely eyes, half-lidded and sentimental. He’s probably composing something in his head again, twirling language together in ways Dex couldn’t even dream of. Nursey needs to write in the same way other people need to feel sunlight on their skin, and Dex has always admired the tenacity he knows it must take for him to keep writing even when the words don't come easy.

“How ‘bout the soup spoon,” he replies as he wraps an arm across Nursey’s waist. Nursey sleeps flat on his back anyway, so cuddling isn't very effective, but Dex knows being held makes him feel more grounded. He leaves his palm resting on one sharp hipbone, tracing arcs with his fingertips. Just a small physical reminder that this is real. That what they have is real.

“Okay, you can be the salad fork and I'll be the demitasse,” Nursey says, smiling when Dex squints at him.

“You have seen in person that I don’t know what any of those things are,” Dex grumbles. He’s been to a handful of these ridiculous functions that Nursey’s family has to attend on occasion, and resigned himself to surreptitiously studying other people before picking up a utensil. At least the food is always stellar. Luckily, Nursey’s parents are some of the most down-to-earth people that Dex has ever met, and have no problem eating easy mac out of mugs with them at Nursey’s place when they come to visit.

“Chill, Dex. I can teach you. A demitasse is just a small coffee cup. Demi is half, and tasse is cup. And a salad fork is a fork that you eat salads with. Salad is salad and fork is fork.”

“Informative. I can see why you always get five out of fives.”

Nursey gives him a little burst of a laugh, scooching an inch closer so that Dex can lean up against his shoulder. “Dude, have you been looking me up on teacher rating websites again?”

Dex makes a non-committal noise. “You have 4.5 chili peppers - where’d the other half pepper go?”

“I mean, I don’t think I lost it. I just never had it.” He shrugs, uncaring.

The expression Dex wears turns consoling. “You're seven out of five peppers to me, Nurse.”

Nursey’s smile brightens, and he covers the hand at his hip with his own. “That’s pretty damn hot - you sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll get some saltines ready in case. The food of my people.”

“Maybe try yogurt instead.”

“Oh, you have a thing for yogurt? Guess I could work with that. I mean, it’s kinda untraditional, but I could try. For you.”

“Don’t try to shame me in my own bed, Will,” Nursey exclaims, and Dex leans forward to kiss the laugh from his mouth.

“Good thing it’s my bed, then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for sharing.”

Nursey really does look like he’s going to nod off any minute, but before his eyes slip closed he gives Dex another thoughtful look, asking softly, “You know that time you came to visit a few years back? Around my birthday?”

It had been shortly after a major snowstorm hit the northeast; there were still piles of dirty gray slush on every corner and enough meltwater puddles to soak Dex’s socks for days, but it had been nice, to see Nursey again after half a year. The first few times they met up post-graduation, he thought it might have become awkward between them without proximity to keep them in contact, but they always picked up where they left off, all friendly chirping and stupid arguments, now colored with a few dashes of nostalgic reminiscing of the good old days. That day he had brought a potted snake plant with him as a gift, to add to the growing collection of houseplants on the sill of Nursey’s classroom.

“Yeah, we rode a sightseeing bus around Manhattan for no reason.” Dex had stayed the night, and Nursey had offered him the bed. He'd tried to refuse, but Nursey wasn't having it, and built a nest from a spare comforter in the living room before Dex could protest again. “You slept on the couch that night,” he recalls now. It had struck Dex as a strange miracle at the time, because enough time had passed since they last shared a bed for convenience and necessity that he had almost forgotten what a trial it always was. And as platonic as those moments had been, he hadn't been sure his heart could handle the fresh re-opening of the wound it would be to wake to the sight of Nursey asleep just a few inches away from him, too close to touch but never too far to fall for again and again.

“And you slept in my bed.” The hand nearest Dex tangles in the bottom hem of his t-shirt, a few of Nursey’s fingers slipping under to brush against Dex’s stomach. Dex tries not to shiver, waiting for Nursey to collect his thoughts into something more cohesive. “I woke up first, for once. You were still asleep, bundled to the max in all the blankets, except your leg. That was falling off the bed, dunno how - I fit on there just fine and we’re literally the same height.”

Nursey shakes his head, amused by a memory Dex wasn’t awake for, and takes a slight breath. “You were drooling on the pillow,” he says. “Left a wet spot the size of the pond next to your face.”

“Oh my god,” Dex groans, burying his face against Nursey’s arm.

“Nah, it was cute. I went to check on you, turn your head so you didn't drown in your own spit. You stuck your hand out of your cocoon when I did - I thought you were gonna slap me, but you grabbed my arm instead, and you wouldn't let go. I think it was some sort of anti-sibling protective instinct kicking in.

“I thought you would keep me trapped there until you woke up, and I sat down on the floor next to you because I- I guess I wanted that? I wanted to be the first thing you saw that morning.”

“Just like you used to be?” Dex asks, and Nursey nods mutely. They never talked about it, those hangover mornings where Dex jolted awake so he could untangle himself from Nursey and the sheets before anyone could catch him selling himself out with his moonstruck eyes. “But you weren't there when I woke. You were making breakfast,” he says, the memory coming back into focus, pleasantly overcast in the cool wintry gray of Nursey’s apartment that morning when Dex stepped out barefoot on the cold floorboards to see Nursey studying the spark and sizzle of oil in his frying pan.

“I guess that was always the dilemma. Do I want to be the one you wake up to, or do I want to be the one who makes you breakfast? I wanted to be both, but breakfast seemed safer.” Nursey’s smile, sheepish and uneven, reminds Dex of the years they lost. The years they- well, wasted isn’t the right word for it, because this is the road they took to get to each other, and even now, knowing what they could have had sooner, Dex doesn’t think it was the wrong path. He thinks sometimes they needed to grow up apart before they could grow old together.

“You could be both. You are both,” Dex says, looping his arm tighter around Nursey’s waist. “My problem was always whether I wanted to be the one to make you laugh or the one to catch you when you fall down the stairs.”

“It’s pretty cool when you do them at the same time,” Nursey says sleepily, and Dex leans in to give him one final kiss.

“Night, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Nursey drifts off first and Dex is left half-conscious, watching him in all the ways he couldn't when he was younger and less sober. Wanting him just as much as he did at nineteen. But they're here now, and Dex doesn't regret a minute that led them to this point. It feels like all that yearning was a debt to paid before he could know how it felt for his love to be requited.

Eleven years ago, on a night much like this one, Dex had held his breath and closed his eyes, hoping against hope that Nursey wouldn’t feel his pulse running wild as he fell asleep. Tonight he exhales, waiting for his heart rate to slow, and holds Nursey closer as sleep approaches.

Dex wakes bathed in sunlight. Nursey is still out, tucked into Dex’s side with one arm lying at a strange angle, but he stirs when Dex shifts to stretch his legs. For a second, his forehead scrunches and his dark lashes flutter twice before his eyes open.

“Good morning, starshine,” Dex says as Nursey turns onto his side to embrace him. His hair is a mess and he’s still blinking himself awake, but he looks rested and comfortable here in Dex’s bed. The way Dex hopes he’ll always feel when they’re together.

“Morning, Will,” Nursey responds warmly, and Dex remembers that all this was worth waiting for.

He leaves a kiss at Nursey’s jaw, his cheek, his crown. Then he props himself up with Nursey still spread across his chest, ready for the new day.

“C’mon, Nursey. Let’s go get breakfast.”

#nurseydex #nurseydexweek #omgcp fic #dex #nursey #every installment comes later and later

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ridingtheblackmountain · 5 years

Text

DAY FIVE – TO THE COAST

SUN: The sun was out all day despite the forecast being thundery showers, with a 70% chance of rain til 16.00. During the day, we slowly divested ourselves of wet weather gear, never quite believing that the downpour would come.

WATER: We spent much of the day beside water rather than being pelted by it. We followed a tributary out of town and then the River Moraca – that we had met two days ago on the ‘Chinese day’. The river broadened out into wide marshland covered with water lillies and some quite sophisticated fishing operations – is this where the trout we have been eating comes from?

We cross the river over a long stone bridge complete with ruins of a castle. Much further, and the river feeds into Lake Skadar, the largest lake on the Balkan Peninsular. We are right on the south-eastern corner of Montegro, the Albanian border passes through the lake.

A long bridge takes us across the lake and into the town of Virpazar, for a coffee break. We spend the next couple of hours cycling around the lake, which is quite stunning. Completely calm, the sky reflected on its surface, deep blue, with small islands and inlets along the shore.

ROAD: At Virpazar, Silviu gives his briefing. There will be three big’ish climbs. Two before lunch, one after. The climbers are unleashed. The road meanders around the lake for a while, takes a turn seemingly inland and the climb starts. It’s hot, something we aren’t used to. Mark is taking it easy, so is Ali. But Andy is pushing hard and John is cruising effortlessly. It’s a marvelous climb, bringing us out high above the lake and onto a slow descent. We all stop to take photos. Jaw-dropping.

The second climb takes us back up, Ali is in the lead. At the top, there is an empty terrace with benches and tables for our picnic.

The road takes us inland for a while, long fast descents on bumpy roads dappled with sunlight filtered through fresh leaved trees.

We stop in a small town, where Mark inexplicably buys himself a hairy werewolf mask that he wears for the rest of the day – remarkably no-one seems to bat an eye lid – at restaurants or in the towns and villages we pass through. Maybe it’s because we are so close to Albania?

While everyone is distracted and with the true climbers exhausted by their efforts, Piers pushes forward to the third climb (every holiday he makes tactical play for one hill). Torren has noticed and perhaps sensing his own opportunity gives chase. Martin, in the van, goads the two – “this could be your chance!). Piers is pushed all the way, but cracks Torren on the final climb to emerge victorious onto the ridge at the top. (The 6th fastest time up the hill ever recorded on Strava no less!)

There’s a huge panorama. Looking down the ridge we can see a Mountain that rejoices in the name of Maja Golishit.

We say goodbye finally to Lake Skadar, still visible in the distance,and head south west towards the coast some twenty miles away. The first six miles are downhill as we shed 500m of height.

The final five or so miles were beautiful tarmac with shallow gradients up and downhill, but into a headwind. The faster riders start to push on in a peleton. Then Hamish starts it. He shoots past the group at high speed, making a break for it. Piers bridges the gap. Then others join in and a race is on. Hamish seems keen to lead, so we tuck in behind letting him take the wind. Until half-way up a hill Piers pushes past him, and hears a satisfying whimper. Silviu and Piers try to push ahead. And successfully establish a gap. But then, as always, John appears from nowhere and cruises past. It’s difficult to describe how enjoyable it is riding fast like this on legs that now are strong from several days in the saddle.

BREAKS: Top breaks today. Best coffee yet in Virpazar on a balcony looking at an ancient bridge. The best location for picnic in the sun overlooking the lake. And a top break for ice cream at the Restaurant Panorama just down from Maja Golishit, looking out for miles over Albania.

ANIMALS: Mark has been attacked by dogs all holiday, but today we cycled past cows in the road, a snake, several tortoises, a huge variety of birdlife around the lake and some donkeys that Mark successfully whispered.

YOGA: Andy’s session was smaller and required bribery with alcohol - he’s now called Yogi Beer.

Our best day yet, by far. And we’ve arrived at the coast.

63 miles. 1,450 meters of vertical ascent. Max speed 37mph.

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