#tom holland x princess!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 2 years ago

Text

if it's real, if it's sweet

pairing: shuri x fem!reader

summary: you and shuri are pretty much living in domestic bliss, until a double date leads to a revelation about your relationship. your reconciliation involves you fucking shuri like no other girl has before and giving shuri the best orgasm(s) of her life (and vice versa). let's just say....the two of you live happily ever after <3

warnings: fluff, angst (reader and shuri have an argument), and smut!! mostly sub!shuri, oral (reader and shuri receiving), spitting, squirting, strap-on, tribbing...enjoy :)

song inspo: "cherry" by FLETCHER and hayley kiyoko

a/n: hello! this fic is kind of a part 2 of my first fic i'm not wanting anything (but your loving, your body, and a little bit of your brain) but not much context is needed. there is a lot of plot and smut is mostly at the end. this is set between endgame and wakanda forever. i might do a part 3 that would be very angsty, so stay tuned. also if you're wondering my fancast for harry osborn it's jonathan daviss and for peter parker it's nico hiraga (sorry tom holland!)

"fuck, shuri," you moaned as her tongue touched your folds. "we don't have time for this...."

you had class in an hour and shuri had to get to work, but the combination of the hot water hitting your skin and shuri's tongue in your cunt was something you did not want to give up just yet - even if you didn't want to admit it.

"usana," shuri scolded, looking up at you innocently, as if she wasn't the one who decided to push you against the shower wall and get on her knees in front of you. "it was your idea to shower together this morning."

"well, sorry for wanting to save water," you breathed, your grip tightening on her curls. "the planet is dying."

shuri pulled away from you once more, lips shining with your slick. "well, i didn't realize you cared so much about the environment. if that's all this is...." she got up to her feet and turned off the water. "we better get going, pretty girl."

you whined at the loss of contact and clenched your thighs together at the nickname, something that did not go unnoticed by shuri. shuri ran her tongue across her bottom lip before leaning forward to kiss you, your back pushed against the cool tile and the taste of you faint on her tongue.

hearing your alarm go off reminded you that there were other responsibilities you each had to attend to. reluctantly, the two of you dried off and made your way to your (shared) bedroom. you put on a matching bright orange boyshort / bralette combo before slipping on some jeans and an orange cropped sweater, and moving on to your makeup.

as you got ready, you watched in the mirror as shuri looked in the closet for something to wear, currently only dressed in black briefs and a sports bra. once she picked out an outfit, her eyes caught yours in the mirror.

"what?" she asked, slipping on a white mesh top.

you smiled, swiping on some orange eyeshadow (shuri might have been the princess of wakanda, but you were the queen of coordination). even though shuri was moving in at the end of the month -- she needed to go tie up some loose ends in wakanda before coming to live in new york long term -- you loved how comfortably she already fit into your life here. you loved seeing her clothes in your closet, the lava lamp she spotted at a thrift store on the corner of the desk, the photobooth strip of the two of you at a surprise birthday party you'd thrown her last weekend (everyone had a great time and danced and drank until late....needless to say you and shuri showed up very hungover to pepper potts' baby shower the next morning). you loved how you could smell your papaya body wash on her skin. you loved waking up with her arm around your waist, how she mumbled in her sleep about calculations she needed to get done. you loved how she took the subway with you to class, how she visited you at work when you had a slow shift. the two of you had been together for a few years, but your lives had never been this intertwined.

"nothing," you finally responded, finishing with a layer of mango lip gloss on your lips. "don't forget we have that double date tonight."

shuri groaned. "do we have to?"

you didn't particularly want to have dinner with your roommate and his (somewhat) pretentious boyfriend either, but peter parker has been your best friend and partner in crime-fighting for years as well. you owed it to him to give harry osborn a chance.

"if harry's spending more time with pete, it means he'll be spending more time here, so it's probably best that we all get along," you reasoned. you walked over to where shuri was examining her outfit in the full length mirror and wrapped your arms around her waist. she leaned back into your chest, sighing. "please?" you trailed kisses down her neck for good measure.

"fine, i'll do it."

"amazing!" you planted one last kiss on the corner of her mouth before pulling away and gathering your things for class. "the dinner's at 7, but we should probably come back here to change into something nicer. maybe we can meet here and walk over together?"

shuri nodded just as another alarm went off from your phone. "how many alarms do you have?"

"too many, as necessary as they may be," you declared brightly, pressing the cancel button and kissing shuri one last time. you pulled away and she groaned, taking the opportunity to move your shirt slightly and leave bites on your exposed collarbone. you checked the time on your phone.

maybe you could spare a little more time.

the double date was at some fancy italian restaurant in the upper west side. you each ordered pasta dishes and harry ordered a bottle of red wine for the table. the wine came quickly, but given how busy the restaurant was, you anticipated your food would take longer. meanwhile, the conversation flowed naturally from awkward small talk about the weather, to current tv show obsessions (you and shuri were bingeing project runway), to work at oscorp (where you, peter, and harry were interns), and finally to college classes. that's how you found yourself ranting about the lecture in your molecular engineering class from that afternoon.

"i mean no offense to tony - loved the guy - but i know for a fact that my super smart sexy girlfriend cracked that technology years before he did," you declared. "so the fact that my professor -- this white woman, by the way -- uplifts stark tech as the beacon of the future is total bullshit."

"that is total bullshit," harry agreed. "colonizers gonna colonize, i guess."

shuri laughed, a sound you would never get tired of hearing. she had her right arm casually draped across the back of your chair as she held her glass in her left hand, taking occasional sips.

"i mean most of the avengers use nanotech now, right?" harry was directing his question at you, since to his knowledge you were the only avenger at the table, but peter seemed to have forgot that he had a secret identity.

"most of us, yeah," peter answered. you nudged his foot under the table. "ow!" he exclaimed, but once he looked at you, he realized his slip up. "most of them," he corrected, chuckling awkwardly and avoiding harry's gaze. "at least that's what i can gather from my stark internship."

it took a lot in you to not roll your eyes at the fact that peter was still using the 'stark internship' excuse, but harry seemed to buy it.

"anyways, y/n, finish your story," peter suggested.

"well, that's basically what i said in class," you explained.

"that your super smart sexy girlfriend cracked nanotechnology years before tony stark?" shuri wondered.

you shrugged. "pretty much. i also said something about colonizers, but i forget what exactly."

shuri grinned. "that's my girl," she leaned over to plant a kiss on your cheek.

a few waiters came over to bring plates full of pasta, and you all thanked them. your stomach grumbled at the delicious smell, a reminder that you had barely eating all day in between classes. you were so ready to dig in to some quality fettucine alfredo.

"you guys really are a power couple," harry pointed out, gesturing between you and shuri as you started to eat. "how long have you two been together?"

you swallowed a mouthful of pasta. "well, we met right after the avengers split up because of the sokovia accords," you started, clearing your throat. it certainly wasn't your favorite time of your life, but something good obviously did come from that time. if none of it happened, you might not have gotten together with shuri.

"steve dropped me off in wakanda -- i was freshly 18 and he was worried what would happen to me if i went back to new york. so, i stayed there for a while and that's how i met this one." you nudged shuri playfully with your elbow, and she moved a hand under the table to squeeze your upper thigh. "she showed me around, we worked in the lab together and we were friends for a while, of course, but our first non-platonic date was the night before i left wakanda. she brought be up to the top of mount bashenga, we shared a bottle of mango soju that t'challa brought back from korea and then we...." you trailed off, not wanting to necessarily go into the physical details of your first time together. "long story short, we've been girlfriends ever since."

"well, that wasn't our first official date, though," shuri said, taking a sip of her wine.

"oh?" you tilted your head, wondering if your memory was off. but, no, you were sure. it was the night before you left wakanda - it couldn't have been before and it couldn't have been later. your entire relationship had been long distance until recently.

"i visited you in the fall," shuri recounted. "you took me to magnolia bakery to get that banana pudding, we walked around central park, and then we slept together in your dorm while your roommate was at a frat party - that was when we became exclusive."

you chewed slowly, ingesting her words. "that was a few months after i left wakanda though." shuri nodded. "we were already together."

"yeah," shuri agreed. "but weren't exclusive."

"okay, you keep saying that word." at this point, you had completely forgotten your dinner and your double date. "what does that mean, though?"

"like, we were seeing other people," shuri stated casually. she was still eating her pasta, and you grabbed the fork out of her hand. "i wasn't finished with that."

"so you were sleeping with other people? while we were together?"

"well...yeah."

peter's mouth practically dropped to the floor, and harry almost choked on a piece of penne.

you, on the other hand, were silent, frozen. it shouldn't have been that big of a deal - maybe you would have agreed to do the whole friends with benefits thing - but you and shuri clearly hadn't been on the same page. you fell for her, hard and fast, but it didn't seem like she would say the same for you. and you were sure that you'd had the are we exclusive? conversation before you parted ways.

suddenly, your avengers buzzer (an addition made at the request of carol danvers - she swore by them) went off.

harry cleared his throat. "avengers business?"

"yeah," you replied, dropping shuri's fork back in her plate. you glanced at peter, who just shook his head slightly. he would have to sit this one out. "i have to go."

shuri started to call out your name, but you were already out the door.

when you got home later that night, shuri was still up, sitting in the living room with one lamp on. she hadn't changed from dinner, still wearing her patterned suit, but had unbuttoned the top even more. she looked way too good, and if you weren't currently frustrated at her, you would have suggested going to the bedroom right away.

"peter is sleeping at harry's."

"okay," you replied crisply.

you walked to your bedroom and removed your supersuit, looking for some comfortable clothes to wear. your entire body ached, your head throbbing.

"are we going to talk about it, or are you just going to shut me out?"

you groaned, way too exhausted after dealing with a flying green goblin terrorizing midtown. you didn't want to have to deal with this right now. searching through your drawers, you eventually found some sleep shorts and the i <3 wakanda t-shirt shuri had gotten you as a joke.

"i'm tired, shuri." you sat on the bed and started rubbing some lavender body butter on your arms and legs.

"no, you're angry," shuri countered, leaning against the doorframe and watching you go through your nightly ritual.

"can't i be both?" you got up, took off your bra, and slipped on your shorts. you turned to shuri just in time to watch her stare at your bare chest before you finally put on your t-shirt.

"look, you have nothing to be angry about. those first few months, we were keeping it casual, yeah? we were -- how do you americans call it -- friends with benefit."

the way she stated it as though she was explaining scientific theories, the way she was being so casual now like you were overreacting, sent a wave of frustration through your body.

"you can't be fucking serious right now!"

"i don't understand why this is such a big deal! it was years ago!"

you scoffed. "i thought that what we had was real from the start, okay? friends with benefits only works when there are no strings attached, and i remember us very clearly having strings attached. there's no way i would have - i don't know - been so vulnerable with you if i thought it was just sex."

"that's the friend part," shuri continued matter-of-factly. she finally walked into the room, removing her suit jacket and unbuttoning her shirt even more. before long, her top half was only covered by a black sports bra.

you scoffed. "if that's how you act with friends, then i seriously think you need to follow up with the rest of the girls you fucked at the time. how many were there, anyways?"

shuri hesitated.

"answer the question, shuri," you snapped.

"i like sex, you know that! you weren't there, so i had to find other girls to sleep with."

"yeah, i like sex, too! and normally i wouldn't judge you, but we had agreed--"

"we had not agreed ---"

"we had!

"can we agree to disagree? what's the big deal anyways?"

"well, the big deal is that while you were busy sleeping with other girls, i was in my dorm, waiting to spend all my international minutes on a call that would go to voicemail because - oh !- you were apparently busy sleeping with other girls!"

"i kept telling you to use the kimoyo beads i gave you," shuri mumbled.

"are serious right now?" you exclaimed. "i spent most of that semester waiting for you, thinking about you - and you probably couldn't have cared less! i was stressed and lonely and - yeah, i'll say it - horny, while i could have been out having fun too."

"that's not my fault," shuri scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "i doubt you missed that many opportunities."

"oh? how can you be so sure?"

"well, no one knew that you were an avenger then."

when you first started being an avenger, you were a kid. it wasn't until well after you were 18, after the accords and in a desperate plea to get steve and the others to return, that you revealed your identity to the world, press conference and all. which meant that shuri had a point: during your first semester at empire state university, no one knew that you were an avenger.

"so you're saying that girls would only fuck me if they thought i was a superhero?"

"i'm not saying that's the only reason, but it is a big one."

it took a second for the implication of her words to fully sink in. suddenly, the room felt smaller and you hated every reminder that you and shuri were building a life, here, together.

"is that why we got together in the first place? you wanted to fuck a superhero?"

shuri froze, as if she too just understood the turn your argument had taken.

"shuri. answer the fucking question. is that the reason we got together?" her silence made you claustrophobic, and, again, you were way too tired to deal with this. "i'm gonna sleep at mj's." you were about to grab your phone and keys before shuri stopped you.

"wait. baby, please wait," she pleaded. "i didn't mean -- just, let me explain, okay? please."

you looked at her, jaw tense and eyes searching yours, and you couldn't resist. you just had to hear her out. she sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing at you to join her, but you remained standing, arms crossed and waiting for an explanation.

"maybe....maybe i was intrigued by the fact you were an avenger. i thought you were so cool and badass and i wanted to know you, like really know you. and once i did, i couldn't help but fall for you. i wanted to be with you."

"yeah, you fucking other girls really reflects that."

"let me finish," shuri sighed. "when you went back to new york, i didn't think we'd last. i was scared that our time together in wakanda was just some short, passionate fling for you and you'd forget all about me. or, worse, you'd realize that you just want to be friends and i would be stuck alone, pining for you. sleeping with other people was just a protective measure, i guess."

while you were surprised by her confession, you didn't feel entirely satisfied. you did, however, finally sit on the bed next to her. "you didn't think to talk to me about any of this? to ask whether or not i was invested in our relationship?"

"i'm good with calculations, y/n, not people."

being this close to her, you couldn't help but stare at shuri: at the way her jaw looked sharper in the moonlight, her eyes darker, her lips slightly parted as she waited for you to say something.

"i guess it would have been nice to know how much you thought about me," you whispered.

shuri brings her hand up your thigh and under your shirt, stroking the skin underneath your breast with her thumb. you shuddered at the contact.

"i thought about you all the time. bast, i even called other girls by your name during sex. multiple times."

weirdly, you felt a little proud at that. "i guess i really made an impression on you," you hummed. "tell me: did any of those other girls fuck you better than me?" you asked, voice low.

shuri removed her hand from your body, shrugging. "maybe."

"shuri," you warned. "don't."

"or what?" she challenged, leaning forward, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. "are you gonna punish me? because if you want to have your way with me....i wouldn't stop you."

with that, you pushed her onto the bed. she let out a yelp when her back hit the mattress. once you were hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you did what you yearned to do as soon as you walked in earlier that night: you kissed her, passionately, deeply. you bit her lip as you pulled away.

"you really want that - for me to have my way with you?"

shuri whimpered. "yes."

"you might regret saying that, usana."

shuri loved it when you spoke xhosa, you knew that. she leaned up to capture your lips, but you had other plans.

you kissed down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and shoulders down to her stomach. after you fumbled with the button of her pants, shuri lifted her hips from the bed so that you could remove them. once the pants were thrown on the floor, you kissed her core through her briefs, feeling a wet spot against your lips.

quickly, you took off her briefs, being greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you ran your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already felt her slick coating your lips. shuri lifted her legs so they rested on your shoulders. with this angle, you gathered some of her slick and sunk two fingers into her heat.

"gods, i've barely touched you and you're already about to come," you teased, feeling her clench around your fingers. "are you going to come for me?" all you got in response was whine. with your other hand, you reached up to pinch the side of her hip. "answer me, princess."

shuri propped herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you removed your mouth from her.

"yes!" she cried. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel throbbing between your thighs, hearing how frantic her voice sounded - like she needed you and only you. "please, just do something."

at her request, you moved up the bed so that the two of you were face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other was still two fingers deep in her cunt.

with your thumb, you traced over her lips. "open." shuri obeyed you instantly, and you couldn't help but clench your thighs together - you had never seen her this desperate. you spat in her mouth, heart racing as you watched her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continued fucking her with your fingers until she moaned, louder and louder as she reached her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you locked eyes with her as you brought your glistening fingers to your mouth and sucked off her juices. then, you kissed the tattoo underneath her ear, whispering: "have i ever told you that you're the sweetest thing i've ever tasted?"

when shuri smiled, you couldn't help but think how gorgeous she was, how vulnerable she was underneath you, how she was yours. unfortunately, you also couldn't help but think that there was a time when you thought she was yours and yours alone, while there were other girls with her like this.

so, you decided then that you weren't quite done with her.

"you really want me to have my way with you?" you asked once more, just to be sure.

"yes. anything."

you kissed her again, this time rougher than the last. "where's that new strap you made?"

shuri gestured to the closet. you stripped down before retrieving the strap - bigger than any either of you had used on the other before - and adjusted it around your hips. when you turned back to the bed, shuri was completely naked, nipples perked against the cold air, thighs shining from her previous orgasm.

"turn around," you instructed. "on your knees."

again, shuri complied. you knelt behind her on the bed, grasping her hips. you looked down at her cunt, already dripping, and she gasped when she felt you spit onto her hole. without further ado, you thrusted forward.

you both moaned when you started to enter her. shuri invented a strap that allowed both the wearer and the receiver to feel pleasure; hell, you could even feel her walls clench around you, how deep you were inside her. technology was a beautiful thing.

"you okay, baby?" you asked once you were halfway inside her.

"yes," she breathed. she turned her head as much as she could towards you. "keep going."

once you were fully inside her, strap nestled in her warm cunt, your thighs met her ass. you slipped out slightly, only to thrust back in, over and over, until shuri was a moaning mess beneath you. her body started to shake and she almost collapsed onto her elbows, so you reached one hand to her neck and lifted her up so that your nipples brushed against her back.

"more," she moaned, reaching an arm back to help guide your hips forward, faster.

you kissed the back of her neck, trailing your hand down from her neck to pinch one of her nipples. you moved your other hand to her clit, rubbing the nub in tight circles and gathering as much slick as you could. you then took those same fingers and shoved them into her mouth, allowing her to taste her sweetness.

you almost came right then and there, watching how she truly let you have your way with her body. "i never knew you were such a slut," you taunted. you took your fingers out of her mouth so shuri could respond, instead grasping her neck once more, applying just the slightest pressure you knew drove her crazy.

"only for you," she groaned.

after a particularly hard thrust, shuri came, bursting all over the sheets. she collapsed forward on the bed, breathing hard.

"did you just...." the wet stains on the purple silk sheets were enough evidence. shuri just squirted.

shuri laughed, breathlessly. "fuck. i've never done that before."

you took off the strap and turned her over. her skin glistened with sweat and her curls were stuck to her forehead, but shuri would never not be beautiful.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whispered. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

shuri nodded, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts were touching. both of you were so worked up, you from watching shuri fall apart twice and shuri from, well, her two previous orgasms, that it didn't take long for you to feel her gush against you, and vice versa.

strings of cum connected you as you removed your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath.

"i'm sorry," shuri finally said. she shifted her body to lay on her side, facing you. "i almost messed this up but --"

"it's fine," you said, turning your head towards her. "it was a misunderstanding."

"i just...." shuri sighs, voice trembling slightly. "i just want to assure you that i would never want to do anything to hurt you. what we have is more real that anything i ever had with any other girl. you were right, it has been like that from the start, even if i almost messed it up."

you used your thumb to wipe away a tear from shuri's cheek. "are you crying because i gave you the best orgasm of your life?"

despite being in tears, shuri laughed. "i'm crying because i love you."

"i love you too, shuri," you assured her, your finger tracing the tattoo on the side of her arm. "also we should probably take a shower before sleeping."

shuri hummed. "you and your showers." the two of you laughed, remembering this morning. "before that, i have something for you...." she got up and grabbed a paper bag on the floor, handing it to you.

one eyebrow raised, you opened the bag and pulled out a bottle of lychee soju. your expression softened. "it was lychee soju," you mused, looking between the bottle and shuri.

"see, i do remember!" shuri grinned. she slipped on her underwear and your sleep shirt before running to the kitchen to grab some mugs. shuri poured the drink into them and handed you one.

as you sipped the bittersweet liquid, you couldn't help but think: you and shuri. this was real.

#shuri #shuri smut #shuri fanfiction #shuri x reader #princess shuri #shuri udaku #shuri x y/n #black panther: wakanda forever #black panther #shuri fluff #shuri angst #shuri fic #shuri imagine #shuri x you #Spotify #saf writes

509 notes · View notes

f10werfae · 2 years ago

Text

Babyboy

pairing: Boyfriend!Tom Holland x Older!GF!Reader

summary: Tom meets Y/n’s narcissistic older sister S/n who wants Tom all to herself; Y/n gets overprotective of her babyboy, showing just how possessive she really is (Tom is 26, Reader is 31) (fluff ending‼️) (Requested by @peterholland04 )

Tom Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“It’s okay dove, what’s the worst that could happen eh“ Tom whispered nuzzling his head into his lover’s neck, peppering soft kisses all over it. His hands clutching Y/n in his, the both of them sitting in the kitchen of her parent’s new house for their housewarming party. “She keeps staring at me like i’m some sort of exhibit” Y/n sighed leaning her head onto his shoulder, playing with his fingers on her lap.

Soon enough the couple are ushered out to sit in the living while the older adults took over the kitchen, with Y/n, Tom and her older sister being left alone. “So Tom where did you and my baby sister meet? Did you know she was never really a sight for the eyes until I fixed her up” S/n giggled said leaning forward, unbuttoning a few buttons of her shirt showing off her cleavage, making Y/n scoff subtly. Tom seeing this just held her tighter, even moving his woman to sit on his lap, just to show S/n that he was taken and deeply in love.

“Uh we met through a friend right babe? We just fell in love at first sigh-t” Tom said dramatically, watching S/n’s face try to hold back a scowl as Y/n turned his jaw to press a full open-mouthed kiss on his lips, interrupting their conversation. Tom’s eyes closing as his arms wrapped around his woman, his knees widening a bit to get her more comfortable.

“Whoops, sorry just can’t keep my hands off him, he’s just too irresistible” Y/n giggled wiping the saliva from the bottom of Tom’s chin, S/n looked on jealous as she saw the way Tom’s eyes sparkled looking at Y/n; his hands clearly itching to climb up the blouse she was wearing as she combed about his messy curls.

“No it’s okay! Remember your last boyfriend? He loved that too” S/n smirked taunting her younger sister; although Y/n’s eyes twitched in anger she kept her calm, feeling Tom’s hands rub her back soothingly. “Yeah. I remember Mark, in your bed mostly though not mine” Y/n replied back not even looking at her older sister, instead focusing on Tom and placing kisses onto his face; Tom earlier that morning had went through plans with Y/n, to prepare her for these type of comments.

“Haha, we both know that only happened because you weren’t gonna give the poor guy a baby, wasn’t that it? Or was it when you said you weren’t in the mood for sex? I don’t know, all I remember was that you couldn’t satisfy him, and who better than your big sissy”

S/n smirked knowing she hit Y/n right where it hurts, Y/n tightened her grip onto Tom’s button up, her eyes already welling up with tears with frustration . “You- I’ve dealt with your bullshit for so many years, all the “sisterly” ways you’ve stolen things I love. But ya know what? I’m glad you took Mark right outta my hands, he was a cunt and you know it too. He couldn’t keep it in his pants and used you as a rebound, where is he now “sissy?” Could you not satisfy him enough? Or did you finally see the pig of a man I had to be with?”

By the time Y/n had finished her piece, her chest was visibly breathing deeply, her finger pointed right at her sister menacingly as Tom held her waist tightly to make sure she wouldn’t start anything physical. S/n knew how wrong and toxic Mark was, Tom had swooped in as Y/n’s knight and saved her. Treating her like a princess, giving her a new definition of love.

“I- Well- Tom see? This is the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with? Really? She’s so unstable, a few words get her panties in such a twist” S/n laughed watching Y/n get up and start to gather her things from around the room, “Yes. Y/n is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, I honestly think i’d rather be found in a ditch than by your side S/n. Usually i’d stay quiet, but not when you’re disrespecting my woman and my family. She doesn’t deserve you as an older sister, in fact, I wouldn’t even wish a character like you on my worst enemy. What sort of person meddles with a person’s happiness, purely just for her own gain”

S/n sat there silent, looking like a child that had just been scolded, her body now leaned back and sitting up right in the chair; completely different from her pose trying to seduce Tom earlier. Y/n still standing just looked at her poor excuse of a sister, letting Tom gather the rest of her things, his jaw chiseled as his face remained stern and hard. “I’ll say bye to your parents love, and we’ll be on our way, to OUR house” Tom emphasised side eyeing S/n before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Why do you always treat me like this S/n? I don’t get it, what did I do to you?” Y/n whispered, her older sister stayed staring at the floor in silence for a while, “Because why do you deserve him? That’s what I don’t get, you were nothing before me”

“Yeah fuck you seriously, hope you find someone that loves you for something other than your ugly personality bitch” Y/n said leaning into her face, saying each word with venom, before walking out into the hallway and connecting her hands with Tom; the happy couple made their exit out of the suburban home.

“She will never change, told you she sucks” Y/n sighed, breaking the silence that took over their whole ride home, the atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife. Y/n’s eyes suddenly drifted to his lap, “Wait- Tommy baby, are you seriously horny right now, what the fuck is this?” She laughed palming his hardened cock through his trousers, watching him groan and slap her hand away.

“S-seeing you so feisty and snarky, just ya know, made me think of you in-in our bed” Tom whimpered adjusting his pants, his face flushed red probably due to embarrassment. “Aww did it now, babyboy” Y/n smirked knowing just how much he loved that nickname, especially when she used it to smother and cuddle him, or when she was bouncing herself onto his thick cock; feeling it harden again for their next few rounds.

“God you’re really my woman, let’s get into the house, n’ I want you to take your frustrations out on me, mommy” Tom whispered leaning in, his lips brushing against Y/n’s; her body visibly squirming in delight from the name he called her. The both of them wasting no time in reaching their bed, which ended in them Christening every surface in the household.

——/-

(Taglist no longer accepts new @, library blog for new users @f10werfaes-cosy-collection )

Taglist: @esposadomd @elenavampire21 @stuckysgirl27 @cookielovesbook-akie @theekyliepage @acornacre @fdl305 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @aerangi @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @vrittivsanghavi

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x female reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x older!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland one shot #tom holland rpf #rpf #romance

504 notes · View notes

youandtom2 · 1 year ago

Text

The Hunting Ground (18+)

Dom!Tom Holland x sub!bratty!Reader

Summary: How else would you get adventure back into your life than to visit a speakeasy that's definitly not a kinky-cult-sex-club? Themes: EXPLICIT, BDSM and mentions of BDM, dom/sub, knife play, breath play, unprotect p in v, oral (fem rec.), orgasm denial, overstimulation w/c: 13k oops

a/n: it's late and it's 13k so I'll probs revisit another time whoops. apologies if writing gets sloppy.

MASTERLIST

“Come on. This has got to be a joke. This is the kinkiest cult shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Nope. Not a joke.”

“When I said I was looking for something exciting and adventurous, I didn’t mean a sex club!” You flippantly disregard the masquerade mask onto the couch, whilst your friend Danny, holds his elegantly in his hand as if it is the beholder of all his memories.

“It isn’t a sex club. It’s…an opportunity.” Danny’s lips twist into a smirk that wavers between sweet and sinful. That alone should’ve told you that his opinion on this ‘club’ was simply that. An opinion. A biassed one at that. The other thing Danny doesn’t account for is that opinions are subjective, interchangeable and while he sees his little kinky sex club as an opportunity, you see it more of a shameless hookup with cultic motives.

But you’re curious to hear how he can possibly sell this to you. “Oh yeah? An opportunity for what? Enlighten me.”

Your friend coyly swivels his hips playfully, that all too familiar bashful glow emanating from his olive cheeks. He leans gayly over the edge of the couch with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth, entrapped in his childlike manner and embracing his inner Princess Diaries by swinging his feet. He so desperately wants to say ‘to flirt with hot men and recklessly have sex with them with no strings attached’, but to your surprise, his answer is a little more profound and in-depth.

“To meet like-minded people who share similar interests. To embrace a community that doesn’t judge you for what you like, who…take you as you are. It’s actually very liberating.”

“Puh-lease! You threw that innuendo in there on purpose. Look. It’s a sex club. You meet up to have sex. That’s the common ground.”

“Oh my God, you speak about it like it’s a brothel and you couldn’t be more wrong. Okay, okay, I’ll admit, it’s a little provocative, but it’s not like some sex dungeon, it’s a speakeasy. There’s a bar, drinks, music, dancing, it’s totally chill. You don’t even need to have sex, it’s not a guarantee.”

You fold your arms, staring outwardly and chewing your lips as you mull over the possibility that it might not all be what you initially think it is. But the only way to prove otherwise is to go. Dammit you wish you weren't so curious.

“And…what’s this place called?”

Danny smiles contentedly. “The Hunting Ground.”

~~~~~

“Do I really have to wear this?” The flimsy black ribbon of the mask trickles through your fingers. The shell is midnight black with a faint covering of silver lace, embellished with enough sparkle to catch your eye under the streetlights. Ahead of you is what looks like an ordinary bar under the false name of The Playground. The tinted windows and low purple LED lights inside is a clever ruse to fool anyone who is none the wiser to believe that the mystery is revealed when you step inside, leaving no other incentive to keep exploring. However, hidden behind the facade of an ‘ordinary bar’ as confirmed by Danny, is the speakeasy. It’s quietly genius; it’s all hidden in plain sight.

“Yes, you have to wear it; it’s like a pass for entry into the club since it’s invitation-only. Plus, anonymity is kinda a thing here. Especially for newbies if they’re not too sure what they’re looking for. You get all types of people here. You’re bound to find someone who is yours.”

You roll your eyes as you tie the ribbon tightly around your head with a grunt, the thick plastic mask sitting squarely on the bridge of your nose. “Anonymity, sure. These things are as good a disguise as Superman putting on his glasses and all of a sudden he’s Clark Kent and completely unrecognisable.”

“Trust me. They do their job. Oh and one last thing.” Why is he smirking again? “Sub or Dom?”

“Come again?”

“What are you, Sub or Dom?”

You blink. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means.”

“God, you’re so vanilla--they’re, um…types of people.” Danny vaguely explains and purses his lips, thinking as he evaluates you. “Hmm, we'll stick to sub for now. When you get inside grab a white cup.”

“Fuck sake.”

You follow Danny down a poorly lit, narrow staircase and you get a sense of entering a restricted area, having it not as well decorated, but then you remember; it’s supposed to be secretive and unwelcoming to any wandering stranger. The staircase is quiet compared to the floors above you and below you, giving off a feeling of limbo, neither here nor there as the pounding of the bass-heavy music distorts your sense of direction. There’s two different songs playing and they blend into each other so well that you can’t quite tell what is coming from where, but the further you descend down the staircase, the more obvious it becomes. The floor above you is phased out when you come to a stone archway, lined with plum velvet curtains hanging at either side where wisps of vapour spill from the room. A fiery red spotlight casts a shadow where the words ‘The Hunting Ground’ are projected on the wall to welcome you. Danny stops you before you enter.

“And you told me this wasn’t a sex club,” you quip, motioning to the entrance to hell.

“Remember it’s just to socialise. Nothing needs to happen, okay? After a drink or two, you’ll start to loosen up and have more fun.”

You huff. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You take one step into the stuffy haze and instantly you feel the change in aura, perhaps because you know what people are here to do. Danny patiently waits with you as you soak in the sights, the smells, the heat and the very suffocating atmosphere of the room in front of you. A fine mist hovers in the air, just enough to hinder your view of anything further than 10 metres in front of you - probably intentional to hide the erotic acts in the corner - and only the blacklights and the dancing neon laser lights shoot through. Unlike the bar above, the music is slower and less adrenaline pumping, perfect to fulfil its purpose of enticing its listeners to socialise rather than all-out partying, but in effect, it makes you more nervous; how do you socialise with people you’ve never met? You bump shoulders with Danny is a quiet plea to stay close.

A few people within eyesight turn their heads as you enter in your sage green dress, making their judgements on you through the narrow slits of their masks, a symbol of membership to the club, identical to the one you wear. Under the cover of darkness, the masks do actually provide a sense of anonymity and you take back an earlier thought; what the hell are these masks going to hide? Everything apparently.

You decide not to linger around the entrance any longer for you feel that others can smell your hesitance a mile off. You make a B-line to the table adorning white cups, directly across the table that hold a much smaller number of black cups, and perpendicular to a table with grey cups. As soon as the rim of the cup touches your lips and alcohol sears your throat, you ease a little.

“God, I feel like I’ve just entered the mafia. Why is this place so stiff?”

Danny laughs inwardly. “Oh they’re stiff alright.” That earns him a swift elbow to the ribcage. “Ow!”

“You said this place was chill and judgement free.”

“It is--”

“Then why do I feel like I’m being victimised?”

For a fleeting moment, you catch Danny’s eyes flitting over to the white cup you hold in your hand, being quickly emptied by you. There’s obviously significance behind the white and black cups and you’re certain Danny knows why as he too picks up a white cup with conviction, but what significance they have is being purposely withheld from you.

It’s definitely a cult thing.

“They just want to get to know you. Give them a chance. It’s all with friendly intentions, I promise.”

“Uh-huh.”

Like Danny said, there’s all sorts of people here; men, women, and more situated around the room whether it’s standing in small clusters around a table or sitting in smaller, more private groups in booths. Few white cups, some grey cups, but black cups hold the majority. Some are dressed more provocative than you would ever dare where some keep their secrets to themselves. Those who begin dancing are booming with confidence, sashaying their hips while others simply observe with a glass of whisky in hand. Even hours into the night, you’re still pondering over the likemindedness of such a diverse group. There must be something that ties these people together, because every hour or so you catch a glimpse of couples' escapades, hand-in-hand as they disappear through another archway with a black curtain.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny murmurs into your ear.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to catch up with a friend. I won’t be long. You can manage your own for a bit, can’t you?”

“Don’t think I have much of a choice.”

Danny quickly disappears into the smog and across the dancefloor, and by the time he reaches the bar, he’s out of your sight and anxiety creeps in. As ever, you find solace in the very alcoholic drink, quietly sipping away in a dark corner of the room.

Or at least you thought you were in the corner of the room…

The solid wall behind you suddenly swings open and you lose your balance, falling backwards into the void that has just opened up. Your heart leaps to your throat and your lungs flood themselves with oxygen to prepare for what you know will be a painful fall and the loss of your dignity. Inches from disaster, a miracle happens when two hands reach out to hook underneath your arms and break your fall, leaving you hovering over the floor until the stranger finds the strength to bring you back to your feet again. Sadly, there’s nothing to be done about your drink that puddles on the floor…

With a breath of relief, you quickly compose yourself, turning around to see that indeed the wall you were standing against was actually a door, and in that doorway now stands the masked stranger that saved you from your fall. He stands just a couple of inches taller than you, dressed in a black suit (it could be navy - it’s just so damn dark in here) but replaces the standard crisp, white shirt with a baby blue one, keeping it casual with undone buttons by his collar. You want to make more guesses of his appearance but this club’s obsession with anonymity is slowly becoming a nuisance.

“I’m so sorry, I really thought that was a wall.”

“No worries, it’s easily done.” His words are smooth and puckish, and you feel like he genuinely believes you when he places a gentle supporting hand against your back.

“Right? Especially with a place like this, I mean, would it hurt to turn up the lights even just a little bit?” An innocent laugh escapes you but the second you see his lips parting in what you can only assume is disbelief, you instantly feel like you might’ve crossed a line. His hand drops and sinks deep into his pocket. So much for no judgement…

“Well, we could but most members here know there’s a door here.”

Caught.

He doesn’t watch for your reaction as he picks up the empty white cup from the floor, long, slender fingers holding it tightly while he studies it for a moment and the corners of his lips tug a little before settling it on a nearby table. You’re still not privy to the colour codes and their meanings, and something itches inside of you when you see this stranger turn to you with a knowing smirk on his face. Because he knows.

He folds his arms, muscles defined in the tight squeeze of his blazer and stands stoically before you. “You’re looking a little lost, newbie.”

“I’m just waiting on my friend Danny. He’s the one who brought me here. I don’t know why to be honest. I don’t really think this is my kind of scene.”

The stranger tilts his head curiously. “How so?”

You snort. Isn’t it obvious? “I mean the mask thing is a little weird. And the segregation of cups? What the hell is that all about? Like, I’m always down for something different but the anti-religion cult vibes just isn’t doing it for me. I haven’t been here that long and already I’ve had so many daggers from people that I just can’t tell whether they want to kill me or eat me.”

“Oh my God, you really have no idea, do you? Tell me then, if this place doesn’t suit your majesty’s preferences, why are you still here?”

This stranger doesn’t need you to take off your mask to know that there’s a scowl taking over your features. Affronted, you decide to mirror him, folding your arms and delivering his own stinking attitude back to him.

“Cut the sass. You asked me a question and I answered it. If you listened, you would’ve heard me say that my friend brought me here. Said that if I was looking for something exciting and adventurous I should come here, but I’m not seeing either. Anyway, what does it matter to you?”

“Careful, newbie. Some people here don’t take too kindly towards being spoken to like that. It can get you into a lot of trouble, unless you’re searching for it, in which case, Danny was right to bring you here. And tell him he should’ve put a straw in your drink too.”

You’re so fed up with these innuendos. “I don’t even know what that means!”

The stranger takes a step forwards and brushes your shoulder with his. You hold your breath as he leans down close to your ear and murmurs words that sound like a threat. A shiver descends down your spine. “Ask him to explain it. Tell him that Tom told him too.”

Your stance stays strong as the stranger sweeps past you in an obtrusive manner without a word to spare. Finally out of sight, you give in to the urge to roll your eyes and scoff with as much conviction until satisfied, having suppressed it in front of that stranger. You’re never one to be so outwardly rude to someone, but unless it’s warranted, then by all means, give them hell.

The interaction has somewhat soured your mood, and considering that this place has yet to prove any of Danny’s claims of what a ‘friendly, non judgemental’ place this is, you might make the move to leave. You’ve been here long enough and you doubt that the fun has yet to come.

Not three steps towards your leave, you’re stopped by Danny emerging from the smog like a phantom. “Oh hey! You’re alive! See? I told you’d be fine.”

“Yeah, not fine, Danny. Don’t leave me ever again.”

“Such a drama queen. Where’s your drink?”

“Spilled it almost falling over. By the way, what do the colours on the cups mean? Some guy ‘Tom’ said that you were to tell me what they mean.”

His smile drops and hangs ajar, eyes wide as he processes the words, the name you’ve just invoked. “Tom--did you just say Tom?”

“Yes, why? He also said that you should’ve put a straw in my drink too. Danny, for the love of God, what the fuck does that mean?”

Annoyingly, he ignores your last question. “What did you say to him?”

Danny devotes all of his attention to you as you recount the interaction from beginning to end, sure not to leave any details out. As your friend, all of your expectations are placed on him taking your side in it all, but with each word you spill, he cringes further and further into himself.

“Then I told him to cut the sass--he was being so rude to me!”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” You’re struggling to understand why your friend has descended into a fit of laughter, creasing over until he can no longer catch his breath. It’s great that he’s finding it so hilarious that he can’t even seem to straighten himself up to give you an answer, but what’s even better is that you can’t even begin to imagine how many people are witness to Danny descending into mania while you stand with your arms folded, a slack jaw and a look that could kill. And even if some can’t see it, they can bloody well hear it. “I cannot believe you said that to him!”

“Danny, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t tell me at least something, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, wait, wait, sorry, I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you.” After wiping the tears from his eyes, he latches onto your arms and pulls you into his side, directing you to look out at the room before you. “Okay, so you remember the question I asked you before we came in? About being a sub or a dom?” You nod. “The cups are representative of that. White for sub, black for dom. Grey if you don’t particularly have a preference. They’re sometimes called switches.”

“Okay, but what does sub and dom actually mean?”

“They’re just abbreviations. Submissive or Dominant if you want to be proper. They define what a person likes to be in the bedroom. Dominants are usually controlling, they like to manipulate and gain pleasure from using submissives in whatever way they like. Submissives gain pleasure from being controlled, from being told what to do and will usually go through extreme measures to satisfy their doms, and in lieu, themselves. For example, see over there?” Danny points to a booth of what looks like two guys sitting on either side of a girl. They are shadowing over her, running fingertips up and down her leg whilst she sits bashfully in the middle. “Two doms and a sub.”

You look to another area of the room and in the corner you see a woman, dressed in the tightest latex corset you could imagine, and she looks fucking amazing in it. Full of luscious curves. Her confidence is striking as she walks with her head high like she owns everything in the room. She somehow makes picking up a black cup look sexy, drinking from it until it’s empty but inexplicably doesn’t swallow. With her puffed cheeks, she grabs the face of a man who kneels beside her, opening his mouth—“Oh my God!” The words spill from your lips as you watch the woman spit her drink into the man’s mouth, swallowing with glee in his eyes.

“Anyone can be sub or dom. That’s why the cups make it so much easier to identify who’s who and cuts out all the small chat bullshit in between.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. This is a fucking sex club. “But how did you know I was going to be a sub?”

“I just guessed. It takes a certain confidence and skill to know how to be a dom, and no offence honey, but I don’t think you’d be a good dom.”

“And the straw?”

“Signifies a bratty sub. A sub who likes to be controlled but also loves the fight against it. Anything to piss their dom off.”

“Hold on. A brat?! Who the fuck does this Tom guy think he is? He’s talked to me for no more than five minutes and he calls me a brat?”

“Shhh!! Shut up!!! Oh my God!!” He hurriedly ushers you away from prying ears and you feel a sort of trepidation when he looks around cautiously. “Honey, you know I love you and I care for you but you have seriously fucked up to the point where I literally cannot protect you from what’s about to happen.”

“What? How?”

“Tom’s the owner of this place.” He’s trying to hold in his laughter again. “And you just stood there and insulted everything about his club to him--oh my GOD you are so dead. I’m weak just thinking about it.” Had he not been squealing and bouncing on his tip-toes in a nervous but weirdly excited way, you probably would’ve taken Danny’s warning a little more seriously. In Danny’s overly-dramatic fashion, his translation of ‘dead’ just means that you’re only slightly in trouble.

“So what, he’ll probably just kick me out.”

“You better wish that’s what he’ll do because Tom is a capital D-O-M and is a stickler for obedience. He has everyone, sub or dom, address him as sir. It’s like one of his rules.”

“Sir? Really? Are we back in school?”

Your own mocking laughter is the last thing you hear before a voice creeps up behind you, settling deep into the canals of your ear and shocking you into a small but powerful fright. “We can be if you like. At least then I can teach you a lesson or two about how to respect me, newbie.” The way his voice instantly scorches everything inside you is mildly terrifying. It’s the mixer in your soup of emotions; trepidation, anxiety, curiosity, exhilaration, anticipation, swirling together in the pit of your stomach.

You and Danny’s eyes are locked in a stupor, both of you donning guilt-ridden, colourless faces. You think it wise to follow Danny’s lead in not speaking, not moving because only he knows the repercussions that you face. Besides, if you listened to what your brain initially told you to do, you would be in a lot more trouble.

A wordless plea twinkles in your eye and your heart plummets when you see your friend respond with tightly pursed lips and a subtle shake of the head.

“Next time you bring your friends, Danny, I would expect you to inform them on how to conduct themselves around me. You should know better.”

“Sorry, sir.” Danny’s voice wobbles. Fucking wobbles. Loud and proud Danny, centre of attention on the worst of days, always one to speak his mind and is never afraid of judgement, and now he’s…scared.

“Now go. Justin’s waiting for you.” The unfamiliar person Danny has become swiftly brushes past you with no more than a final apologetic look and disappears further into the centre of the room. A certain desperation keeps your eyes on him for as long as you possibly can until you eventually accept your defeat, standing here alone with Tom stalking very close behind you. You notice his shadow standing just on the coast of your peripheral, lurking.

After an excruciating silence, Tom eventually murmurs into your ear, just the edges of his mask skimming the side of your hairline.

“Follow me to my office. We need to have a chat about rules.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

Sure enough the door you nearly fell through enters the hallway leading to his office. It’s well lit, spotlighting the framed memorabilia on the wall and you almost choke a gasp when you see what they contain. Whips, paddles, cuffs, chains, anything of an erotic nature is framed, dated and hung on these walls in plain sight. Tom catches a glance of your awestruck eyes from over his shoulder, smirking wickedly. Little do you know that that isn’t even half of his collection.

He enters the office first leaving you to nervously trail in behind him.

“Sit.”

The tickle of velvet feathers your bare thighs, knees already knocking together while Tom takes a stand behind his desk, underneath the low-intensity spotlight that shines down on him from above. Your eyes skate over his features the second he unties his mask, shadows hugging every sharp angle from the crook of his brow bone to the contour of his cheeks. Holy fuck. Your knees lock tighter together.

“Mask off.” It falls to your lap. When you look back up at him, you see that he doesn’t bother hiding how he takes in every inch of you and it makes the burn of his stare even more obvious. “What do you know already?”

“Um, not much. Danny told me about the masks, Doms and Subs, the thing about the cups, addressing you as ‘sir’ and…” you clear your throat, a previous anger returning, “having a straw in my cup.”

“Ah, so he explained it to you, did he?” Fuck, even his grin is perfect.

You bite your gums, eyes averting. “Wish he didn’t.”

A piercing whistle rings in your ear, short and sharp in the small, panelled office causing an audible wince. “Oi, eyes up here.” Did he just whistle at you? “I’m going to handle this very delicately because you’re new, but if you keep testing my patience then I won’t even give you the chance to back out.”

What the fuck.

“Since your friend failed to explain the rules, I’ll have to do it instead. This is my private establishment and I expect anyone who enters it to follow my rules, including newbies like you. Rule number one: respect. Respect for me, respect for others, respect for the property. Simple, yes?”

“Yes.” His eyes widened slightly, “sir.”

Tom begins to circle around his desk, nearing you. You tuck your feet in underneath the chair as he leans against the desk a foot in front of you. “Rule number two: boundaries. Boundaries must be set by every individual and must be adhered to by every individual. That includes things they consent to and things they don’t consent to, and safe-words should be agreed to and abided by also. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I know you know rule number three.”

But does he know that you also hate rule number three? Grinding your teeth together, you bite back his answer. “Yes. Sir--” Before you’re able to utter another syllable from your lips, Tom has your cheeks in the pinch of his fingers, pulling you from your seat until you’re just a breath away from his own. Despite the circumstances of your racing heart and your throbbing cheeks, you come to realise that Tom has brown eyes, that his suit is really black, that he has one strand of hair that curls against the rest. Shit. You’re really dipping your toes into muddy water here.

“See this fucking attitude of yours? Drop it. If you’re really so eager to talk, you’ll tell me what it is you want out of this. And know that before you start speaking, you’re on your last warning.” Thankfully, his grip loosens but it doesn’t disappear completely. Keeping you just as reigned in as before, his fingers sink to the curve of your chin and curl around it gently. It’s hypnotising enough that it coaxes you into spilling the truth.

“A little bit of excitement and adventure. Danny suggested I could find it here. So I came to find out for myself.”

“And?”

“I’m…not sure yet.”

“We can certainly offer what you’re looking for, but it depends what kind of adventure you want to take. Do you want to explore or do you want to experience?”

“What’s the difference?”

Tom drinks in your curiosity, content with a quirk to his wet lips. All is silent in his sound-proof office, the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears and it’s the only thing you can tune into while the incredibly intimidating man in front of you sadistically drags out each and every second. “We can start off slow, test your endurance and your tolerances, discover your likes and dislikes, introduce new things one at a time, a soft start over a number of weeks.”

“...Or?”

His pupils dilate. “Everything all at once. A full session, right here, right now. Thrown in right at the deep end. No restrictions and I get full control. An experience to say the very least.”

You gasp and the breath gets stuck in your throat. As the idea is spoken into words, you can’t help but picture everything you saw in the hallway, the whips, the paddles, the chains, the ludicrousy of them ever being used as sources of pleasure and begin to feel yourself being overwhelmed. Albeit, the rebellious side of you plagues you with the mentality of saying ‘fuck it’ and trying it anyway, its voice ringing with the sound of your youth; willing to try everything, to say that you were brave enough to try it, to run away from the boring life of always saying no because you just weren’t sure. You might even find that it’s something you like…

“What do you say?” He whispers with the small coaxing of his thumb gracing over your pout. “And don’t leave it up to me. I think you know what I would prefer.”

You take a breath, cheeks already flushing knowing what’s to come. “I…I want the experience.”

He doesn’t move aside from his lids opening a fraction wider. “Say it again. To be sure.”

“I want the experience.”

A slow, salacious moan sings through his sigh, his breath crashing against your skin like a wave. “Mmmm, I was so hoping you would say that. I’ve been wanting to put this brat back in her place all…night…long. Now I can. All. Night. Long.” Warmth encircles your neck and you realise that his hand has completely captured your throat, controlling every breath you breathe. You desperately try to whimper but even then, all your sounds are clamped down by him. Sensing danger, your own hands reach for his wrist as he pushes you back against the spine of the chair and shadows over you with fire in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Safe word?”

“Err…” You don’t have one. You’ll have to make one up. What did you have for dinner last night? “Pasta.”

Tom chuckles but accepts it. “Pasta it is.”

When your one and only chance to speak is taken, Tom quickly readjusts his grip on your throat again, closing it off until your skin is tinted red with exertion. He sinks low, invading your space until there’s nothing but him in your darkening sights, until his lips skim the tips of yours.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all night. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep that urge at bay? So fucking hard. I knew you were a newbie, but fuck, you were so fucking rude. You know, you never even thanked me for helping you up earlier. Instead, you chose to insult my club and my customers, and when you do that, you insult me. That doesn’t fly with me and something will need to be done about that mouth of yours.”

You gasp erratically, fighting for breath and his vendetta against you refuses to relent. Just as blackness consumes your vision, just as you're hanging on the precipice of consciousness, he finally relieves the tension and you gulp down air like it’s your drug, your lifeline. Almost simultaneously, Tom thrashes his lips against yours, seizing back whatever oxygen you just gained in a vicious attack. His tongue slips in almost too seamlessly, brushing against your own and tasting every inch he can reach.

From one method of suffocation to another. With his hand no longer occupied at the base of your throat, you find it clamped to the roots of your hair, keeping you detained as he forcefully kisses and licks every part of your mouth, barely leaving any time to breathe. It isn’t painful as such, but god damn it’s overwhelming. The small squeak of struggle easily gets swallowed up by him and he growls for more. In time, another is drawn out but this time it's the result of Tom’s other hand pulling down the neckline of your dress and finding your tits, pinching and squeezing with a passion that’s guaranteed to leave behind a bruise. To say you completely underestimated what the experience is and how little prepared you are for it, is under-statement of the fucking century.

He really isn’t shy, is he?

Minutes go by and you’re losing sensation in your swollen lips and Tom can sense that too; you become lethargic, sloppy and out of control but that’s exactly what Tom is waiting for. He can feel the plumpness of your lips as he drags them out slowly between his teeth, perfect to have wrapped around his cock.

He stands to his tallest, your hair still tight in his grip. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, sir.”

“What else?”

“Th-thank you for helping me up, sir.”

“There’s actually one thing you should know about me,” he murmurs darkly. “If someone is apologising or thanking me, I expect them to show their regret or their gratitude to me. Usually on their knees. That way, I know they mean it.”

“And if I don’t?” You are genuinely curious.

A shadow casts over his face, eyes glowering at your words. He clenches his jaw so tightly that you have to remind yourself to unclench yours out of fear. In quiet, articulated words, he provides you with the first piece of insight of what kind of night lies ahead of you. “I will fuck you and edge you against this desk until you are spent of every piece of sanity that keeps your bratty brain together. Even if you beg, even if you are crying out for release, I will not stop until you are nothing but my cum-filled slut.”

“Fucking hell,” you whimper quietly, but he hears it all the same.

“I would think very carefully about your next words, newbie, or you’re going to become very familiar with my temper.”

Hey, you said you were up for the experience…right?

It takes just a fraction of your lips to curl into a smirk for Tom to realise your motives. Provoked by just the smallest of your smiles, he runs his tongue along the lining of his cheek. He can’t quite tell if he’s insulted or pleased, regardless, the result of either is the same; he will have you reduced to absolutely nothing if his life depends on it. After all, he doesn’t allow insults to run dry on him, he snuffs them out as soon as possible and that’s the lesson you need to learn.

“Don’t fucking do it,” he warns one last time. How generous of him.

The air is tight and feverish, and so very, very quiet. Until…”Fuck. You.”

Your words trigger a pregnant pause, leaving just enough time to hear a pin drop before something sinister happens. A cacophony fills the room: the wooden scraping of the chair legs as Tom yanks you from it, the squeal and the grunt that marry together, the clutter of objects as they fall from the desk to the floor, the resounding thump as your body mercilessly collides with the wooden desk and subsequent the yelp of pain to be heard by no one other than Tom.

The brute’s groping hands impatiently tug at your dress, whipping it up to sit around your torso and the moment your ass is exposed to him, he wastes no time to drill his hips into yours in a desperate bid to split your legs wider and keep you still. The sweltering heat of your cunt seeps onto his trousers and, even contained, his cock feels it all. The harder he pushes to force you down, the harder the edge of the desk cuts through your pelvis, and the longer you stay there, the louder your pleas become. And every second of it all is like heroin to him. This is his high.

Tom rips your underwear from you, the thin material reduced to rags in seconds and just as quick, they become your bindings. With your hands now tied behind your back by the remains of your wet thong and your head smothered against the wooden surface, you are unequivocally oppressed.

“Stay there, and don’t move.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t bother trying that shit with me. You’re too late. You’ve already made your decision to be a brat, so I’ll fuck you like one.”

The recognisable sound of chain links clinking together stops your heart dead in your chest. “Wait, what are you doing?” You try to shimmy a look over your shoulder to take a peak, but you can’t see Tom crouching down behind you.

“Extra precaution.” Cold metal tightly hugs your ankles, grinding away at your bone with every tug. There’s little room to move, you can barely bend your knee without causing yourself harm. You didn’t want to believe it, but the reality is true: he’s chaining you to his desk.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way. This is what you asked for.” He leans down to leave a patronising kiss to the shell of your ear, unbinding your hands and placing them exactly where he wants them, gripped to the edge of the desk beside your head. Not chained, but the wordless warning to keep them there is evident in the squeeze to your wrists. You’re almost crucified to the desk. It’s enough to make your sweltering body shiver. “And I’ll gladly provide.”

Without warning, he spits into your ass and stops to watch it trickle down to your clit with hunger ruining his patience. He collects it with deft fingers, spreading it through every lip of your cunt, all the way back to gloss your puckered hole. You can feel every movement of his whether feathered or anchored, following the path of his fingers from your asshole to your clit and back again, only stopping to teasingly circle your entrance. He repeats it over and over and over again until you’re leaking with your own slick, glistening underneath the singular spotlight and the fire of Tom’s eyes. It’s tantalising. Worse yet because you can’t move to stop him. You’re stuck with a burning cheek pressed against the desk and your hands trapped under what feels like Tom’s invisible reins.

“Look over to my clock and tell me what time it is.”

“It’s 11:57pm.”

“Good to know.”

By 11:59pm he has you teetering towards the edge of your first orgasm with as little as two fingers and a thumb violating your cunt. By the turn of a new day, he has you wishing you had just said sorry and meant it.

“Such a tight little pussy.” He groans behind you, littering small kisses along the base of your spine and your ass. His two fingers enter you again, anchoring down on the spot that winds you up so perfectly, stroking it with the curl of his knuckle and just when you both sense the coil tightening, he picks up speed and power. Anxiety and excitement broil in your stomach.

“Oh God, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He already knows this. He doesn’t need you telling him. In fact, he’s familiarised himself with the quivering of your thighs, the shaking of your body and already, he knows exactly when to stop. “No! Fuck!” You grieve over the loss of your climax quietly with a small groan laced with heavy breaths.

His gruff, irritated voice buzzes straight down your ear, vibrating with impatience. “You will take what I give you. And you will thank me for it.”

The voice that spills from your lips is hardly recognisable. Whining, winging and moping, you don’t quite understand where the grovelling came from and how it took over, but you can’t find it in you to stop it.

“Thank you, sir.”

And just like that, the routine starts again and without a doubt, the result is the same.

Muscles ache, bones shaking, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of liquifying here on his desk. Alas, Tom possesses the ability to keep you solid like no other man has, keeping you somewhat stable and conscious enough to make you feel every last drop of his torment. No matter what sweet relief you feel when he gently massages your cunt, it’s completely forgotten about the moment he slaps the back of your thighs for moving your hands one centimetre out of place. And just like that, you’re back in the room.

When Tom painfully edges you for the sixth time, he asks you to read the time again. The digits of the numbers have blurred since the last time you checked, but you can just make them out. “It’s 12:32am”

He smirks. “Good to know. Fuck, look at the mess you’re making on my floor.” A flat palm smacks against your cunt, seizing at the stimulation. Your thighs beg to squeeze together, anything to build up some friction to tame the urge but the chains rattle beneath you, keeping you contained.

He tames the fire with the lick of his fingers that curl eloquently onto your clit and swivels it around in circles in the same, insatiable manner as before. At first, you think he’s going to build you up again like he has done for the last thirty-something minutes and you’re not so sure that your mind and body can take the strain, but you feel the pressure of his other hand anchoring down onto your back, pressing your stomach flat against the wooden desk and eliminating any chance you have of escaping. Not that you had any before, but Tom’s a man of guarantee rather than possibilities.

It’s new and the prospect that he might allow to cum reignites the exhilaration in your core.

Effortlessly, he sets your nerves on fire, plucking every one with overstimulation and you're on the cusp of the well-desired orgasm that you’ve waited for for what seems like all night. You writhe so desperately for it that your pebbled nipples are starting to chafe underneath you.

Tom’s maniacal laugh drifts into your ears, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses against your ear and your neck. “What do you want?”

You open your mouth and moans spill out, not the words of an answer. He continues to ruin you anyway. “I want…I want to cum. Please!”

“So you don’t want my forgiveness? You’d rather cum instead? So fucking selfish of you.”

He rips his fingers from you and the sensation is lost. “NO!”

“Yessss.”

~~~~~

You still haven’t came yet. How the fuck have you not been allowed to cum in all the pleasure Tom’s fingers and teasing words have granted you? He hasn’t allowed you to move either leaving all of your muscles, joints and sanity aching against the stiff wood as you remain prisoner to his chains. And as his prisoner, all of your self-control has been stripped from you. With your eyes closed, voice gone, mind vacant, Tom decides to finally, finally, re-evaluate the situation.

And by re-evaluate, you mean change position.

Now unchained, he forces you to lie on your back and you’re thankful that the desk is long enough to support your head, because when you are being punished with extremities, the littlest things can be a saving grace.

“Tell me the time.”

You look over, Tom catching a glint of your red cheeks and the imprints of the wooden grain etched into your skin. “It’s…it’s 1:23am.”

He grins wickedly, licking his lips, and with a smooth wink, he replies. “Good to know.”

“Please, Tom.” The crack is your voice is liquid gold in Tom’s ears and with his hands skating over your thighs, he hears what you have to say. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I am…so sorry. Please--I…I can’t take it anymore.”

“What is it you want?”

“I want your forgiveness. Please, sir.”

He sees it. He really does; the desperation in the tear that leaves your eye, the look of absolute surrender donning your features in fear that he won’t accept your apology, and even in the way your body warms at his touch tells him that there’s nothing else that you desire. That’s the part he loves most and the main attraction for his dominant tendencies; the moment when the bad turn good. When they’re at such a loss with their original intentions that they have no other option but to surrender and submit. From brazen words to pitiful pleas. From bratty attitudes to willful compliance. From ‘fuck you’s to ‘thank you’s. When that switch is pulled, that’s when Tom knows he’s won.

He holds your legs dearly in his hands, your swollen cunt perched directly in front of him as he crouches to the floor. It’s red, puffy and glistening in the light, screaming out to be touched, filled and ultimately freed of the orgasm that is running ragged inside.

He eases the slight quiver in your thighs with a grounding kiss, powerful enough to emboss just the traces of teeth marks onto your skin.

“What a good girl you’ve become.” The same kiss is planted on your other thigh, just a hint closer to your crying cunt. “I’ll tell you another thing about me,” he whispers, feeling the softness of your skin against his lips. “I don’t just dominate and manipulate people, I manipulate pleasure too. I control it. I can stop it from happening, but sometimes I can be in the mood to make sure it never stops happening.”

You take a breath and hold it. The anticipation of what’s about to happen savagely ruins your mind that you just can’t settle your pulse, and even if you try to slowly release that breath, you realise that it is all in vain. Your heart still positively thunders in your chest.

“And guess what, sweetheart?”

Traces of your voice weakly spill out. “What?”

“I’m in that exact mood.”

Tom doesn’t waste a second before his tongue is licking a fat, wet strip up the centre of your cunt and completely destroys your sanity. It’s slow, meticulous in its travels as it covers every inch of you from your hole to your clit and your body involuntarily searches for more. It’s like a wave, rolling over your cunt before crashing into the bundle of nerves at the end. Your cries vibrate through your body, all to be felt by Tom when his lips tightly seal around your cunt, suffocating it with the heat of his mouth and the lashings of his tongue. It’s incredibly enthralling; being constantly aware of every small minuscule change in direction. From thrusting into your hole with tenacity to swirling tightly around your clit in a frenzy, there’s no telling what he’ll do next.

Your body drips with sweat and you can’t decide if it’s from all the involuntary squirming upon the table or if it's the fire within, being fuelled by Tom’s uncontained lust. There’s a small explosion waiting to happen inside you, and Tom holds the detonation trigger.

“Holy fuck.”

“Mmmmm.”

With his head buried beneath your thighs, his hands blindly roam your body. They descend down your thighs and over the valleys of your hip bones, shaping the contours of your waist before feeling the grooves of your ribcage as they expand with each pant you breathe, until he finds your tits, groping and pinching where he can. In both of your minds though, his hands are an afterthought, especially when his gorgeous mouth is massaging your pussy so rhythmically, moving against you like a ship on a wave.

“Ohhhh my God,” you whimper, feeling the burn in your abdomen descend deeper and deeper towards your cunt. You’re so close it hurts. Your legs start to twitch closer together.

“Legs open,” he mumbles. “And look at me. Look at who’s got you shaking.”

You cast your eyes downward, unblinking as he sucks and pulls at your cunt with his lips, making what you think to be the most salacious, delicious sounds a man could make while eating you out.

“F-fuck. Tom, please—.”

Tom’s dark lashes lift, lids heavy as he stares at you with such forbidden intentions that it’s enough to make you shiver. Neither of you break the connection and you think it might just be the final nail in the coffin. With a deathly snarl, he claws at the back of your thighs, lifting them until they are pressed harshly against your chest and pans all of his attention, mind, body and soul into forcing you to cum. You sob as his tongue darts out, abusing your clit in all directions and it slingshots you directly towards the climax you have been aching for.

“Tom!”

With a final flick of his tongue, you crash into your orgasm. It immediately wreaks havoc on your system and splinters your sanity completely, so much that you can’t tell whether you're ascending or crumbling right here on his desk. Your lips part to scream, but your consciousness is shattered into a million pieces and your voice is lost. Wood creaks as your nails dig into the edge of the desk, white-knuckled and numb with a grip so tight you swear you feel your bones begin to bend under the strain.

Like he promises, Tom doesn’t stop. Despite being trapped between your thighs, despite the wriggling and writhing, your pleas and desperate whispers, Tom doesn’t stop. Not for one second.

Every flick of his tongue is more intimate than the last, plucking at your nerves so harshly, nerves that are already pulsing and in need of mercy. Regardless, Tom remains kneeling, feasting on you like you are his last meal, last drink, last breath he’ll ever take.

Swimming through the pain, you come out of the other side to find another climax already waiting, just seconds from bursting as drastically as the first one. With one final pleading look to Tom, his dark eyes swallow you whole, subliminally telling you that he’s more than ready to keep this cycle going for as long as he deems necessary.

Mercilessly, his lips seal around your cunt, tongue slithering itself straight deep into your entrance, still not yet satisfied with what he’s tasted all ready. You’re so wet, and with Tom’s constant laving and licking he only just adds to the mess that he spreads with his hands to your thighs until the glossy sheen catches your eyes. The sparkle of it makes you truly realise for yourself just how aroused he has made you, the sight so alien from your own eyes. No man has ever worn you down like this before. It’s…unnerving. Only because you’re not sure if this is supposed to be what it’s like.

As another orgasm explodes, your body shudders violently on the table, his hands digging themselves into the crooks of your knees being the only thing to keep you from completely wriggling away. Your head collapses against the desk and gives way to a desperate whimper. It isn’t cute, it isn’t coy or coquettish like what you’ve heard before in porn or films. It’s raw, painful and very, very real.

It never seems to end. You’ve lost the ability to determine when one climax ends and when the next starts.

By the fifth time - at least, you think - he claims yet another, an hour later, you break.

After his torture renders you thoughtless, mindless and perhaps a tad vacant, your instincts quickly take over. Your hands whip from the silent hold he had on them and swing down to push Tom’s head full of curls away from your aching cunt while it still throbs through the orgasm. He grabs your wrists, far too quickly for your liking. Tom watches your every movement through his brows, still latched onto your clit, giving nothing away of the disapproval you know he would be demonstrating had he not been so adamant in eating every particle of you. “Please,” your hoarse voice scratches your throat, sounding nothing like you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything, please--ah, fuck--it’s too much.”

Slowly, deathly slowly, Tom’s lips detach from you, finally granting you freedom, salvation, relief. Yet he just can’t resist recoiling every other second for just one last taste, one last swift lap of his tongue from entrance to clit in one clean strip. The moment all touch detaches from you, your thighs swing close, nursing the pulse that squeezes at your abused clit, taming the orgasm as it flickers its last flame.

“Fucking hell,” you pant. “You truly are a sadist.”

Tom only chuckles, deep, dark, leaking from lips soaked in your slick. It rumbles straight to your core. “Tell me the time, sweetheart.”

Bleary eyes lazily drag themselves over to the clock and after a few blinks, the numbers sharpen. “It’s 2:38am.”

His fingers tickle up your shin, tracing circles around your knee. “So, so good--” you gasp, darting to catch his hand before it sinks between your thighs. He smirks, “--to know.”

Your sadist allows you just one minute, you know because he counts it, to cool down and let your body reset; a glass of water, a clean rag and a comfy seat, unshackled and dressed. He also very calmly warns you as he sheds his blazer and unbuttons his cufflinks, rolling his sleeve up his tanned, muscular arm, that although it’s very late into the night, traipsing on the verge of closing, that you still have a long night ahead of you.

A small breath narrowly slips from your lips while you hold his stare. You can’t even dwell on the gravitas of the situation, not risking spending the valuable seconds of your - likely - only cool down. So you bite your lip, sit yourself down and quietly regain your energy.

Your heart beat doesn’t slow as quickly as you want it to. The exhilaration doesn’t leave your system either, stuck in a perpetual cycle of replaying all that had just unfolded.

You force your way through a breathing exercise sitting on the chair he originally placed you in, facing forward, blocking him out behind you because you know that one look at him and he would detonate all that you had worked to subdue. Once calm, the tether between mind and body reconnects and there’s one thing that screams down the line.

Filled with pleasure, yet still feeling empty. Yet to be fucked.

Tom alerts you that your cool down has come to an end as he saunters out of the dark corner behind you. It felt like barely a second. He had watched you the entire time, eyes roaming your figure, how it shook, how it quivered, how you barely managed to stand on your own two feet as you jumped from the desk, body scorching with the heat from your core. You were like a new-born deer learning to walk while he was a wolf waiting in the shadows.

Sat on the chair, you spin around to complain, attitude brimming, mouth open, words at the ready and…“Hmph!” His hand clamps down hard onto your mouth, pinching your nose with the other. Not a breath slips through.

“Here’s me thinking you had learned to know better than to talk back to me.” His body arches over your head above you, tilting your head back to catch the panic glaze over your wide eyes. You think he’s going to do something rash, something to make you regret even thinking about turning around to answer him back; a slap to the face, a tug to your roots, something as evil as his wicked voice sounds in your ear.

So you can't exactly blame your heart for tripping over itself when, as smooth as butter, he lowers his head, lips puckering to lay a slight kiss to your forehead. It feels like air, an offering that doesn’t conceal something malice behind it. A fragile dusting of comfort to your skin, gentle like a snowflake feathering down onto the ground. Your conscience arrows towards it.

When he lifts his hands from your mouth and nose, you don’t find yourself desperately sucking in the air you lost. Rather, you inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. It had to be that small, insignificant little kiss that lay your nerves to rest.

Tom is one hell of a manipulator.

His lips remain lingering on your skin, skating over the surface, mirroring his hands as they trickle down your cheeks and hold your jaw in their embrace. He whispers…“Do you think you can behave like my good girl again?” A small hum of confirmation buzzes at your lips. It isn’t enough for him. “Take this as your warning. If you decide to be a brat, if you decide to not listen to every word I say from now on, know that I cannot be responsible for what happens to you.”

The severity of his caution has your eyes opening just a fraction wider, able to read the same warning that traces his words in his eyes. He means it. Really means it. Danny’s words echo around your head. ‘He’s a stickler for obedience’. What is he about to do to you that it’s imperative you listen to what he says?

You could say no. You could invoke upon your safe word and make it stop right now. But when you delve deeper into the part of you that made you agree to this in the first place, you find that it still roars with life, telling you that your need for adventure hasn’t quite been satiated.

You swallow, throat bobbing under his digits. “I understand.”

He scrunches his nose in delight. “Perfect.”

You don’t turn to follow his movements to the back of his office, your ears tell you what you need to know. A cupboard door squeaks open, old, rickety, likely an antique. Then rustling. Objects hard, soft, textured, plastic, rubber, metal. A hum of satisfaction, then the closing squeak of the door, different to the first. His footsteps near you, perching directly behind you while you feel the soft sweep of his torso brush against your hair.

Then darkness. Soft, pillowy darkness that floods your vision. Remnants of light trapped in your irises float around like shooting stars before fading completely. It’s the only thing you can hone in on as the knot tied behind your head tightens, confirming that he has indeed blindfolded you.

“Remember your safe word.” He breathes into your ear in earnest. Pasta. “Don’t hesitate to use it.”

“Yes, sir.” You don’t know if he’s still expecting you to say that, but you do it anyway to stay in good graces with him. You’re not entirely sure if it will make a difference to the impending danger Tom warned you of. Even if it doesn’t, Tom’s lip still curls anyway.

“Good,” a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth has you blushing, “now don’t move.”

A single breath is all you have to prepare yourself before something cold eases across the skin of your arm. Insubstantial, almost weightless, it falls from the curve of your right shoulder and descends down until it reaches your hand, resting on the velvet arm. The sensation is ghostly but frigid, gliding but piercing. You can’t quite work out what it is…

The same icy coldness retraces its path back up your arm, floating and gliding along your clavicle and stops directly at the base of your throat, the pit where your collar bones meet.

It knicks your skin.

“Oh my God--”

“Don’t. Move.”

Holy fuck. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It is a fucking knife.

That’s the metal object you heard. And its sharpest point is resting directly against your neck.

Your skin pales and your stomach swirls with nausea. All your efforts to stay still and keep calm drains very quickly and panic floods in. Any chills the knife aroused in its cold path is replaced by small beads of sweat, your entire body blazing, screaming danger. Surprisingly, among other things, your nipples begin pebbling, brushing harder against the silk slip of a dress that adorns your body the more the blade's sharpest edge tickles along your skin. Your heart pounds, the sound of panic-infused adrenaline thrumming in your ears, comparable to the time you went on that rickety, old roller coaster when you were younger.

You guess the memory isn’t too dissimilar; forced to feel the thrill of having your own safety rest in someone else’s hands. You have no control here.

It’s…intoxicating.

A dark admission on your behalf, but you’re here for the experience, right?

You dare not speak, dare not break his rules as the peak of the very sharp knife trails lightly up the column of your throat as its runway, bumping over your trachea, scraping the finest layer of your skin, commanding you to incline your head as it rises higher and higher. Your lungs expand and you can’t deflate them until the knife flicks off your chin. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

In the stone cold silence of his room, the resonating shwing of the knife rings in your ears. A small respite.

From what you can hear, Tom moves behind you somewhere. The creak of the floorboard dances from the left to the right and back again, giving you not one hint of where he plans to strike next, subjecting you to the torment of crippling anticipation until he does.

Suddenly the blade comes into contact once more with your skin, laying its long, razor sharp edge against your neck. Your body freezes, your nails scratch the edge of the armchair.

“Stand,” Tom commands sharply. The knife’s blade maintains the same pressure on you, even as you come to a stand, knees knocking beneath you.

Seconds later, the chair clatters behind you, just the swiftest of touches of velvet to your calves before it crashes off to your left, and where four legs once sat now stand just two. Tom. The warmth of his breath flowing past your ear is a stark contrast to the cool blade on your throat. But it’s the low grumble bubbling against your back that plucks a chord deep in your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter…

“I can feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribcage, newbie. Worried?”

Yes…

“Or is it more than that? Excitement? Anxiety? Lust? Desire? What is it? Tell me, a penny for your thoughts.”

“Nerves. Mostly. But…exhilaration and curiosity. And confusion.”

“About?”

“Do people actually get off on this?”

He chuckles at your naivety. “Lots of people do. It’s perfect for keeping any brat in their place. But you’ll find it’s mostly the sort that spend all day bossing people about. Whose jobs are to take on the burden of responsibility, leadership, authority. If it’s been a particularly long and hard day for them, they come here. This is their relief.”

“To be held at knife point?”

“To relinquish control. To let someone else take the reins for once. To be controlled rather than being in control. The knife just adds that flare, the incentive to keep them in that headspace of receiving orders instead of being the one to make them. It could be a gun if you’d like,” he jests. You’d shake your head, but you might slice your throat in the process.

You take a constricted breath, feeling the weight of the knife’s edge becoming just that little bit heavier. “And…do you like it? Being the one in control?”

He presses himself against you as if to mould the contours of your body into his, lips furrowing deep into the crook of your outstretched neck roaming where they please. His free hand anchors down onto your hip, slithering its way across the expanse of your abdomen where, if he held you long enough, would feel the flutter of butterflies wings coming from within. Alas, he spreads his fingers, sinking lower onto your pelvis, teasing the curve of your pubic bone and presses down hard, bending you into him. As if the knife he holds against your neck isn’t controlling enough.

His erection pokes and prods at your backside. He’s so hard you release a whimper. What you would give to feel him inside you.

Tom’s words speak directly onto your neck like he’s tattooing them onto you. “I love it.” A beat, then--“Tell me,” he says, low in tone and volume. “Your dress. Any sentimental attachment to it?”

“No.”

The knife’s blade glides to the strap of your dress on your shoulder and picks it up, pulling it taut. “Good.”

One tug and the material snaps.

A small yelp falls out and a flinch has your shoulders raising just an inch closer to your ear. The integrity of your dress now hangs precariously with just one strap holding on for dear life. If one thing is for certain, it won’t be holding on for much longer. You smother the urge to scold him for ruining your dress, your property, and lest you forget the threat of the very sharp knife he holds against you, it’s only the straps, you could tie them back together as a temporary solution. An easy fix.

The knife repeats its actions on the other side until your dress hangs lifelessly around your hips. The cold air bites at your nipples and Tom doesn’t wait one second before he brings the tip to circle around the little bud.

“Oh--” You can’t stop your head tilting back onto Tom’s shoulder when the slight overdose of adrenaline makes you dizzy. The tickling sensation refuses to relent, crossing over the valley between your tits to tease your other bud just as salaciously.

Just when you find pleasure of the tip running rings around your nipples, when Tom’s hand sinks to cup your pantiless sex, when his scent rushes in through your nose, a harsh slap of the blade's flat edge to your tit whips you back to caution. It’s unexpected. Being blindfolded, every touch is. Any touch you feel, whether blade or not, makes you flinch. Quick as a bolt of lightning surging through your body. It’s torturous because in your darkness, in your paranoia, you’re permanently recoiled, shielding, flinching at nothing, waiting for the next hit.

He’ll strike. You know he will. Not knowing when is killing you. And he knows it.

“You asked if I like what I do-” his finger sinks into you, skimming over your clit wet with your slick, “-from what I can feel, I think you like it too.” Your hips buck to gain more friction from both his fingers and from his hard cock pressed against your ass, desperate to feel that euphoria of pleasure again. A sick, twisted crack of satisfaction surges through you when you hear him moan. “Shame you’ve forgotten your manners.”

The surface of the knife slaps you again, harsh against your nipple. “Ow! T-thank you, sir.”

“Better. Now move.”

A few blind steps clumsily place you facing a wall, palms resting flat against the wallpaper while Tom kicks your feet further apart. He makes sure that while he puppeteers you to never let you forget that the knife he holds is always within close proximity, that if you dare defy him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Gentle scrapes, warning knicks, cold presses, even to go as far as break skin would he warn you.

The audacity he has, though, when he takes the knife and slices his way through the remaining fabric of your dress, leaving you to stand stark naked before him. That’s going to be less easy to fix…

“You ripped my dress!”

“Problem?” His voice is challenging, subliminally daring you to bite the bait.

“How the hell am I supposed to get home with no clothes?”

The fiery attitude that tries to bloom inside dies the instant he presses the flat edge of the blade flush against your cunt. The cold surface lying against your heat causes a stutter in your breath. It pushes upwards, almost lifting you off from your feet and onto your tiptoes from fear that any slight movement of defiance would trigger excruciating pain. It’s dangerous, careless, and reckless, and you wish you could scream it, thrash around, push him away and yell in his face. The compulsion is overwhelming. If only you didn’t have a knife to your cunt…

“Telling me your problem isn’t going to make it my problem.”

Your jaw slacks, away from his prying eyes and you suppose you could allow yourself just one moment of freedom. Just one moment of no restraint because releasing what you’re dying to say would just be as gratifying as the first time Tom allowed you to cum. You can easily feel the knot that’s dying to unwind, and saying what intransigent words would tease out the knot inside you, and also send him reeling.

He wants to call you a bratty sub? Fine. That’s what he’ll get.

“You are such a bastard, do you know that? I think you’ve spent too much time being told ‘yes, sir, of course, sir, thank you, sir’ that it’s all gotten to your head. Maybe you could do with being reminded that not everything you do deserves that.”

Quick as a whip, the blade snaps to your neck, digging into your skin that you feel it tearing your skin. The wince is evidence of your pain, but Tom ignores it, settling on placing his focus not on the knife he holds against you, but how quickly he can undo his belt, his trousers, springing his hard cock free and lining it up with your sopping cunt.

Without a warning, because you don’t deserve one, he thrusts into your core, holding your breath hostage under the knife. “So fucking tight,” he stutters to himself. Even for him, the sensation is immense. His next message is for you. “Cheeky little bitch. Think you’re clever? Think you’re funny? We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re begging me to stop.”

Your bodies clash as Tom begins rutting his hips against your ass, the staccato notes of skin on skin and the room swallows every snap, barely making out the door. He fills you, stretches you, and ruins you within seconds and you can’t explain how the pain you feel translates so quickly into pleasure. You feel yourself needing more of it. The stretch, the burn, the knife, it’s indescribable.

His relentless pace maintains, stopping every ten or so seconds to ensure he fills every inch of you, submerging himself to the hilt and mercilessly grinding his hips against you, rolling around your cunt. Without fail, your hands claw at the wallpaper when he does, begging for reprieve.

“When I tell you,” he pants, lips pursed and eyes ablaze, still holding the knife firmly against your neck. “You are going to give me everything.”

He drops himself, snatching a slab of flesh between your neck and shoulder between his teeth and bites viciously in his frustration and you howl. His thrusts only become faster and harsher.

“I need to feel you squeeze around my cock.” A hand slides between your bodies and starts toying with your clit. “I’m not going to stop until I feel you cum around me.”

Tom effortlessly tugs at the elastic band in your stomach and you are about to snap. He overloads your senses, violating your sensitive cunt to the point where you can feel it pulse in anticipation of the orgasm that is threatening to spill. Under the knife that now trails down your body, a pressure builds and it clenches your muscles with its tight grip, and with each pounding Tom hits you with, it grows a little closer to letting go.

Tom fucks you in phases, fast, slow, harsh, gentle, silent, loud, anything and everything thrown into his efforts to completely tear you apart. If it’s regret he’s after, he’s got it. If it’s an apology he wants, it’s there for the taking. If he desires to hear you begging, then it’s on the horizon. You’re willing to give because you’re not sure you know where your limits are, and with your legging threatening to crumble beneath you, you sense that you’re about to get a good idea.

Tears brim your eyes only to be soaked up by the blindfold, a quiet plea for release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please! ” Tom denies relief, keeping you squirming on his cock until his needs are satisfied. He has no care for you writhing to get away, because he can easily drag you back where he wants you with just a swift reminder of the blade that pierces your skin. You’re certain by now that you have tiny little cuts littered over your body, accidental or not.

“Tom, stop! I can’t! It’s too much. Fuck!” He doesn’t heed your cries because to him, they are the symphonies he is waiting to hear.

Your entire body quivers and with the flick of his deft fingers and the thrust of his cock, you come undone. There’s no holding it in anymore. The elastic band snaps and a white-hot wash of pleasure convulses through your body. Blood pumping at your core but Tom isn’t relenting.

The squeeze of your orgasm around his cock is suffocating, but yet just as painfully pleasurable as he needs it to be for the euphoric feeling to consume him. Finally, as the walls of your cunt contract once more, he cums inside you. But by this point, you are weak and Tom can clearly see just how destroyed you are. Nevertheless, his selfishness convinces him to pull away and sink into you over and over again, slower and with purpose.

“Don’t you have something to say to me, sweetheart?”

“I’m s-sorry, fuck, I’m sorry!”

“Taking me so well. My little cocksleeve, aren’t you?” He peels away the blindfold to find your eyes over your shoulder, but in your pain and exhaustion you can’t focus on much else and your eyes serve a very glazed-over look. “Look at me,” he spits, you obey. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Remember that any time you want to act like a brat.” He thrusts into you again as a testament to his words.

“Yes,” you meekly whisper. The word comes out of your mouth before your sex-inebriated mind can comprehend what he actually said. Once it does, you gulp.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Stay still.” Blinded by bliss, Tom pulls from you and with his size, it’s a feeling equivalent to an orgasm in itself and you hiss. Your pussy is hot, swollen, pulsing and leaking and yet somehow, as evident as it is for how sensitive it is, Tom can’t resist one more taste. The knife clatters to the ground. Salvation.

“No, no, no, no, it’s too much, Tom, please, I’m begging you.” The words drip with a desperation you don’t recognise. He simply hushes you, kneels behind you, splits you apart and continues to savour the taste of your arousal, meticulously circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves once again. The warm, wet muscle glides from entrance to clit, cleaning you up of your wetness and replacing it with his own. For as excruciating as it is to endure so soon after an orgasm, you find yourself melting into the feeling and dizziness envelopes you in a warm hug.

~~~~

“Tell me the time,” he murmurs, turning you around.

Your eyes peer to the clock. “Fuck, it’s…it’s 4:29am. When does this place close?”

Tom sniggers, floating over you with a smirk. “It closed an hour and a half ago.”

“What?! Why am I still here?”

“I’m the owner of this place. I decide who gets to stay and I promised you an experience did I not?”

“You did,” you agree quietly. The slight stickiness between your thighs bears a reminder of the experience and suddenly you’re burning again. You bite your lip, trying to contain the coy giggle like a teenager with a crush. “Some experience that was.”

“Sweetheart, that was child’s play,” he laughs.

“What?”

He pulls you close, skin to skin, soothing out your muscles in a gentle massage. “You didn’t actually think I was going to show you everything, did you?”

Would it be stupid of you to admit that you did? “I don’t know, you did say--”

“That I would give you an experience. Something new, something outside your comfort zone, something you hadn’t done before, an adventure.”

“But--” But the paddles, the chains, the whips, all the things you saw outside…

Not another word lets slip before he cups your cheeks, holding your stare and wordlessly silencing you. “If I had shown you everything, there would be no incentive for you to come back again now would there?” You shake your head. “While you may think I’m a sadist, there are some things within BDSM that newbies like you just can’t be thrown into. Trust me. I wouldn’t put you through that. At least, not yet.”

“Like what? Tell me, I wanna know.”

Tom’s lip curls. He’ll definitely be seeing you around here soon enough given you’re so invested. “Voyeurism, roleplay, flogging, bondage, anal, wax play, primal, orgies, consensual non-consent--”

Your brain fumbles over his words. “Wait what? What’s that?”

The way his eyes lit up so brightly. He brings you closer to brush his nose against yours. “Consensual non-consent or CNC. A fetish where people enjoy being either the victim with the extreme lack of control or the predator with extreme control. Sometimes called rape play--” your eyes widen, “--but it is thoroughly negotiated beforehand and varies from scene to scene. Consent, as well as safe words, are vital. But for some people, verbally communicating consent takes away from the mood. To overcome that, they assign consent to an object. It would be agreed beforehand, could be a red scrunchie that you tie in your hair. If you came here one night wearing a red scrunchie, I would know that you would consent to me taking control over you. Perhaps drag you away against your will, take you somewhere where no one would see, make you get on your knees, suck my cock…” his voice reduces to a whisper and lets you feel his words on your lips. “Would do things to you…”

“Oh…”

Tom sighs, pulling away and composing himself. “For another time.” He winks. “But for now, you need to clean up. There’s a bathroom through that door. Feel free.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

~~~~

You don’t emerge from your bedroom until early afternoon the next day. In your true stubborn nature, you do anything you can to prolong the confrontation with Danny. He knows what prevailed between you and Tom, and munching away at a bowl of cereal, you find him smirking at the breakfast bar. All because he knows he was right, he knows that bringing you to the Hunting Ground was the ideal thing for you. You can’t deny him of it.

His eyes find the bite mark on your neck first, bruised and marked. Then to the large T-shirt that he’s certain isn’t yours. The memory of Tom dressing you in it last night has your heart thrashing against your ribs.

“So how did the kinky-cultish-sex club turn out for you?” He grins, a smile stolen from the Cheshire cat.

You click your tongue, deliberating the two ways you could go about this. Against your better character, you grin back at him, colour rushing to your cheeks.

“When can we go back?”

#ive been reading a lot of spicy books recently so this is why this exists #this is foul #knife play??? who am i #truly foul #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #smut #dom!tom holland #sub!bratty!reader #tom holland x you #the hunting ground #peter parker #dark!tom holland

257 notes · View notes

callmemana · 2 years ago

Text

James Bucky Barnes: Fanfic 1

Key: smut -🍓/fluff -🌼/angst -🐂/personal fav -👓/

A Little Superstition @jadedvibes 🌼 (college athlete au)

A Million Reasons Series @perpetuelledaydreaming 🍓🌼🐂(college athlete au)

Accidentally In Love Series @creativebeang 🍓🌼🐂👓

Awake My Soul Series @foreverindreamlandd 🍓🌼🐂 (zombie au)

Baby Love, I Need Your Love @shortcakezaza 🍓🌼👓 (mafia!bucky x baker!reader au)

Bad Intentions Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (mafia! au|Ch. 1/30)

Broken Knights Series @itsanerdlife (mafia! au|Ch. 1/30) 🍓🌼🐂👓

Brotherhood & Bullets Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂 (biker!au)

Brooklyn Pride Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂(street racer!au)

Cruel Intentions Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (mafia! au|Ch. 1/24|sequel to bad intentions)

Chemistry 2 @onceuponastory 🌼🐂👓 (danceteacher!bucky au)

Firebug Series @areyoureadyforsomemeatballz 🍓🌼🐂👓 (firefighter!au)

Forever @onceuponastory 🌼🐂👓

For Love of the Game Series @perpetuelledaydreaming 🍓🌼🐂👓 (baseball!au)

Heat on High Mini Series @tom-holland-parker 🍓🌼🐂👓 (firefighter!bucky x singlemom!r)

His Empire, Her Rules Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂 (mafia!au)

I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once Series @frostironfudge 🌼🐂👓 (ex!military! x +sized!reader)

In Seven Years @perpetuelledaydreaming 🌼🐂👓 (baseball au {mentions of pregnancy})

In The Embers Series @foreverindreamlandd 🌼🐂 (+sized!Rogers!reader)

Inked Sun Series @rookthorne 🍓🌼🐂 (tattoo!artist!au)

It Comes Back To Me 2 @frostironfudge 🍓🌼🐂👓(lawyer! Bucky)

It Started with a Smile Series @writing-for-marvel 🌼🐂👓 (regency/bridgerton!au)

It Takes Two @jessybarnes 🍓🌼👓 (pregnant!reader)

It Was Always You @ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused 🍓🌼🐂(+sized!reader)

Last Night’s Story Series @the-canary 🍓🌼🐂👓(stripper!bucky au)

Like I Want You 2 @tmpestuous (college au)

Lieutenant Smolder Series @baezen 🍓🌼🐂👓 (firefighter!au)

Love & Lace Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂 (mob!Bucky x burlesque!reader|1/24)

Moth to the Flame Series @tmpestuous (college au/ enemies to lovers au)

Our Life Series @creativebeang 🍓🌼🐂

Out Of Mind @rassvetsky 🌼🐂👓

Part Of A Family @onceuponastory 🍓🌼🐂 (singlemom!reader)

Promises @jadedvibes 🍓🌼🐂 (soft!dark! 1940’s bucky)

Playing Games Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (tw: S/A|HS au|1/28)

Save Me Mini Series @espinosaurusrexex 🍓🌼🐂 (college au)

Scars Series @chickenfics 🌼🐂👓 (western au)

Something Domestic Series @fandoms-writings 🌼🐂👓 (ex-military amputee farmer Bucky)

Something More Series @tellmealovestory 🍓🌼🐂👓 (fwb/situation-ship au)

Shattered Pieces Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂 (fighter!bucky|1/20)

Silhouettes in the Spotlight Series @frostironfudge 🍓🌼🐂👓 (actor Bucky x plus sized reader)

Six Months Series @creativebeang 🌼🐂 (explicit themes 18+)

Ties That Bind Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (MC|ch. 1/32)

The Best Man Series @glutenfreepeach 🍓🌼🐂👓 (dark themes 18+)

The Sargent’s Heart Series @foreverindreamlandd 🌼🐂 (+sized!reader)

The Time of the Prey Series @subwaysurf45 🍓🌼🐂 (Knight Bucky x Princess Reader)

The Unseen One Series @extremelyblackandwhite 🌼🐂 (hades!au)

Wrangling Forever Series @itsanerdlife 🌼🐂👓 (farm hand Bucky au|1/10)

Whatever It Takes Series @angrythingstarlight 🍓🌼🐂 (mafia!au)

Where Do We Go From Here Series @sebastianstansqueen 🌼🐂👓 (mafia!au)

I Wanna Be Yours @theeleggymeggy 🍓🌼🐂 (besties to lovers!au)

#callmemanaficrecs #series #one shots #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #marvel fanfic #james bucky barnes #drabble #james bucky buchanan barnes #y/n x james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes drabble #james buchanan barnes #reader x james buchanan barnes

260 notes · View notes

pinksugarscrub · 4 months ago

Text

Reading List

Sunshine by @dreamwritesimagines

Status: ongoing

Pairing: Logan Howlett x single mom! reader

Support fellow writers!

Masterlist

Across the Spider-Verse

Hobie Brown

Full length stories

Sun and Moon (hiatus)

Milo Thatch is that you?

Sea Witch! Hobie x mermaid! reader

Starstruck (in progress)

Enemies to lovers anyone?

Hobie x musician! reader

The Pirate Princess (hiatus)

Love triangles are overated. Give me another 🫴

Pirate! Hobie x princess! reader

Heartstrings (hiatus)

Introvert and extrovert vigilantes mix, it does not go well

Hobie Brown x black cat! reader

Short Stories

New York Serenity

Home

Ruby - Octobie 24' (Anarchy)

The Beauty Standard - Octobie 24' (Comfort)

Guts - Octobie 24' (wildcard) 1, 2

Crossroads

Compromise

Deja Vu

Marvel

Peter Parker

Short stories

O Sweet Juliet - Tom Holland

My Hero Academia

Coming soon...

One Piece

Sanji Vinsmoke

Short stories

Honey kissed

Please do not repost my works on any platform. Rebloging and commenting is definitely appreciated.

I will not tolerate any disrespect to myself or anyone who interacts with this blog.

These stories are meant to be entertainment, not subjects of hate. Take care of your health and happy reading!

14 notes · View notes

dreamergirlatpaddock · 11 months ago

Text

FAVS 16 CHARLES LECLERC 5.0

Some of my favorite stories, writers you are amazing

A reason more The Swimming Pool* am I still not good enough? I take this magnetic force of a man Ferrari or Redbull? uninvited OFTEN addicted Married to Who. bulls and horses marked up STREAMING* Back To December birthday wishes You Know This multi-tasker PAPER RINGS how you get the girl oH No He's Hot insta file: who is she? SECRET LOVE SONG What a Mess mommy and me time! A Livestream to remember jealousy, jealousy! PART 2 𝐆𝐘𝐌 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏 christmas in monaco HOW ARE BABIES MADE? dIRTY BOY* CONTENT CREATION exposed nonsense… or is it? The Best Secret in His Life 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 self care queen 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 same closet, huh? 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 The eyes, chico. They never lie. HALLOWEEN Uni to Paddock paddock princess 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz a very nonsense christmas Wild wild thoughts motormouth MY WORLD RIGHT TIMING PASTRIES BREAKING MY HEART SEX BY FIREPLACE 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 We keep this love on a photograph 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 MY WIFE Charles Leclerc x model!Reader Pit Lane 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 Who is he? CAT MOM LILY'S GIRLFRIEND what’s mine is mine 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 tom holland’s school of manifestation 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 broken lamps 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝

27 notes · View notes

tomholland1996simp · 2 years ago

Text

We gotta go! || Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom holland x youtube!reader

Summary: The reader doing the ‘Starting an argument then having bad period cramps’ prank on her boyfriend Tom.

“Hey everyone, I hope your all doing well.” You smile into the camera that was set on the counter as you started your intro to your youtube video. “Today i’m going to do a prank on my boyfriend Tom. As you saw in the last video Tom had done a prank on me, where he was mean to me for 24 hours. So now this is a revenge prank, Tommy” You laugh a little into the camera.

It was true he did a prank on you and he acted like a dick, well mean for the whole day. He did apologise after though as you did get upset, you forgave him. “Someone did request this in my last video, so thank you for the idea. Toms in the shower so I have to be really quick.” You set the camera up so you can see the whole room, mostly the bed.

You go close up to the camera one last time, “I can’t wait to see his reaction, we have planned to go out with his brothers and his friends, so he probably expecting me to be getting ready-“ That’s when you hear a knock at the door, Tom entering as you jump into the bed going under the covers.

“Babe you in here?” He opened the door, his hair dripping wet, luckily he was wearing his grey joggers. “What?” You say tiredly.

“Sorry, I thought you was changing” He chuckles a little closing the door, using the towel to shake his hair to make it damp. Sliding his T-shirt on, he throws the dirty towel into the washing basket. “We gotta go” He tells you.

“No” You snuggle more into the covers.

“Angel, we gotta go!”

You try to hold in your laugh, “I don’t want too” You whine like a child.

Tom chuckles crawling onto the bed, “What do you mean, you don’t wanna go?” He moves the covers trying to get a better look at your face, kissing your cheek.

“Tommy, I just don’t wanna go”

“Get up lazy” He jokes, moving a strand of hair from your face. “No! I don’t wanna go” You raise your voice a little, Tom frowning a bit but he stands up trying to get you out of bed.

“They miss you, baby” He was talking about his brothers and friends, you hadn’t all hanged out in a while and it was true they missed you a lot.

Once he pulled the covers off you, you acted annoyed more. “Stop, seriously Tom. I don’t wanna go!” You tell him, hearing him say how he will carry you like a princess.

“Wait, Why you being mean?” He sadly asked confused why your mood had changed, earlier you was excited to go out with his brothers and friends and now your saying you didn’t want to go.

“I’m not being mean, If I don’t wanna go I don’t wanna go” Your now sitting up looking towards the camera and then back at Tom.

Tom sighed moving to the other side of the bed, “You knew we was going out all day, I thought you was excited to catch a few drinks with them” He goes to touch your arm to help pull you up, but you back away.

“Don’t touch me!” You yell at him, slapping his hand away from you. “It’s not funny I don’t wanna go, Thomas” You run your hands through your hair, noticing Toms face drop. You never call him ‘Thomas’, only when your mad or pissed at him you will.

“I hear you but I don’t understand why. Are you feeling well?” He was concerned that maybe you felt sick and didn’t want to tell him.

“No, I just don’t wanna go and talk to people. Leave me alone” You roll your eyes, laying back down and turning away from him, your back now facing him.

“You don’t have to talk to them, just come hang out. They miss you, they haven’t seen you in a while. They miss your pretty face” Tom sits down kissing your cheek and all over your face.

“Can you not kiss me right now” you shove him off you, sitting back up when he gets off the bed confused and upset.

“What did I do? What’s wrong?”

“Your just all in my face, pissing me off”

He walked over to his phone, checking the time. “We told them we would be there for 6, we’re gonna be late y/n/n.” Tom jumped back onto the bed, cuddling you to try get you to go or at least tell him what’s wrong. Then he laced your hands together rubbing his thumb across your knuckles softly.

You wanted to break then, he was being so nice to you when your being moody, starting an argument. “What did I just a ay about touching me?!” Moving his hand out of yours.

“Why you being mean? what’s wrong?—Is it that time of month?” He chuckles a bit, knowing how you get during that time. You never really tell Tom when your on, he just kind of knows. “No” You whine moving away from him as he sits up a little.

“Yes it is” He smiles, grabbing your arm.

“okay get off me. Seriously, stop touching me! I literally just asked you to not touch me” You snap, him moving away placing his hands on his thighs.

“Is it that time of the month?” He seriously asks wanting to know if it was because of that and not because your mad at him. “I know it is”

You try your best to not smile at him as you sit up once again. “It’s not and it makes me mad when you say that!” Slapping his chest a little, turning away.

“It is though isn’t it. Babe you could’ve just told me”

“It’s not” Tom laughs smiling at you being mad at him, “Don’t smile at me it’s annoying”

“Oh but that’s so sad though.” He still smiles.

“Why?”

Smirking a little, “No more quickies in the bedroom” This made your cheeks go red, if only he knew you was recording. You knew you would have to blurt that out of the video for the kids sakes.

You smile a little smacking his chest, “No Tom, stop. That’s why last night you was rubbing my stomach, why did you think you were doing that?” He actually did that last night.

“Yeah true, i thought you was kidding”

“No, I was not” You tell him, playing with your fingers.

“I thought you wanted some action” He jokes again, you hide the smile that he was starting to pull out.

You sigh, “No, you can just go without me” Laying back down sadly, he came and joined you.

“I’ll rub your belly for five minutes then we can go?” Tom suggests trying to make the situation better, you then move forwards in pain, clutching onto your stomach.

“Ow, ow, ow. I’ve got such bad cramps” You pretend to be in pain and start to cry.

“I’ve got you baby. You should’ve told me it was this bad” He pulled you into him placing a hand on your stomach to rub your belly. Now Tom felt really bad, he thought you was messing around with him wanting some loving affectionate attention. When really you are in so much pain.

“It hurts so bad” You cry into his arms as he rubs your belly soothingly.

“I know, baby. I wish I could take all the pain away if I could. You want some tablets?” He offered, knowing what you would need during these times. You nod your head as he heads out of the room going to fetch some.

“Guys he’s so sweet, I feel so bad I was being so mean. Tom I love you so much and i’m so sorry your the best boyfriend ever” You whisper as Tom comes rushing in with a glass of water and some tablets for you. “Tom it’s okay just go” You cry again, whining when you feel a “pain” in your tummy.

“No, i’m gonna tell them that we can arrange it for another day. I’m not gonna leave my girl alone, i’ve got to take care of you” He grabs his phone going to text the boys group chat, now you wanted to end it. He was being way to sweet.

“Wait, no, no. It was a prank. I’m joking” You laugh grabbing his phone as he stood by the bed.

“Wait, what?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, his going around your waist. “I’m so sorry, Tommy. I’m sorry for being mean to you it was just a prank, I wanted to see your reaction your so sweet. You was so kind to me after I was rude. I love you” You plant a kiss on his lips, finding him cuter than ever right now.

“That was a prank, I was so worried that you was actually in pain. Babe” He whines, knowing he got tricked again by revenge from the last prank he did.

“I’m sorry, but last time you made me cry. I love you though” You kiss his lips him kissing you back.

“I love you too, but wow princess, you got me. Seriously we gotta go” Tom chuckles, kissing your lips one last time before grabbing his things.

“Wait I need to-“

“You can fix your makeup in the car” He cut you off knowing what you was going to say. Tom grabbed your things, linking your hands together as you finish your video.

“Stay safe everyone, let me know other ideas to prank Tom”

“Noooo!”

74 notes · View notes

letssee2468 · 2 years ago

Text

Neteyem

Smoke over sun lilies

Love shack

Miguel O’Hara

Sweet Girl

Tom Holland

Countdown (soulmate au)

College fake dating Au

Peter Parker

James Potter

The fake date plot

I thought you were different

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter: Series Masterlis

Two of a kind ( parent trap remake)

Kick-Ass

Masked

Chris Evan’s Characters

All of the characters I like

Clark Kent

Aaron Taylor

Recommendations

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #ethan landry x reader #chris evans x reader #peter parker smut #jack champion x reader #james potter x reader #tom holland x reader #sirius black x reader

13 notes · View notes

filmsmakkari · 4 years ago

Text

Satisfied

Wordcount- 2.2k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Soldier!Tom x Princess!Reader

So this is the first part of a story based on Angelica and Alexander's dynamic in Hamilton :)

i would recommend listening to the song satisfied here

Full Series Masterlist

youtube

I remember that night

I just might regret that night for the rest of my days

Being raised the crown princess of the small island nation of Larione had never been easy. Larione wasn’t particularly important to larger countries, only included on a few maps. Many of the citizens lived in poverty and only a powerful marriage alliance with a wealthy royal would solve it. Being born a girl only made things worse. No matter how people will deny it, boys are always favored over girls, especially in royal families. No one would ever take you seriously as a queen without a king by your side. It was imperative that you married a future king- preferably a wealthy one. You’d been raised with the responsibility of marrying for your country’s benefit, so the idea of marrying for love had never even crossed your mind.

I remember those soldier boys trippin’ over themselves to win our praise

It all started at your father’s Winter Ball. Plenty of the continent’s royals were in attendance, all trying to earn you and your sister’s favor. Though Larione’s royal family wasn’t the wealthiest, the (Y/L/N) Sisters were known to be quite beautiful, making you the envy of all. As you socialized with the guests, you noticed a few soldiers flirting with your ladies-in-waiting. You smiled at one of them, Lady Adannaya, as a way of encouraging her to continue their flirtation. That was when you first saw him.

But Alexander, I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face

Another soldier had joined his friends and your ladies. You knew from the moment your eyes landed on him that you would never be the same. He had silky brown hair and a hunger-pang-frame. You wondered if he ate regularly. And oh, good lord those eyes. They were a deep shade of brown, but they shone gold in the light of the candle he was near. They sparkled with intelligence, wit, and ambition. He must have felt your gaze on him because he suddenly turned to meet your gaze, smiling seductively at you. At that moment it felt as if your heart had been set aflame. He began to approach you. Then it felt as if your entire body had been set aflame.

You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied

“Your highness,” he said, bowing and kissing your hand.

“Good evening, soldier. What is your name?”

“Thomas Holland, your grace,” he replied.

Thomas Holland, you thought. You knew him. Not personally, but you’d heard of him. He was essentially Major General Njeri’s right-hand man. A soldier with a marksman’s ability, and not too bad with a quill either. From your understanding, he wrote all of the general’s correspondences.

“Are you enjoying the ball, Thomas?”

“I am,” he looked you up and down “but you aren’t.”

“Pardon me?”

“All of these suitors, they don’t make you happy, do they?”

“Well, aren’t you perceptive?” you asked, a smirk painting your face.

“Oh, come on.” You made a surprised face, taken aback by his familiar tone. “Suitors, balls, court life, none of this satisfies you, does it, your grace?”

You chuckled in disbelief. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself, Thomas.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed a hold of your wrist. You looked down at your wrist, then back up at him, eyes wide in surprise as he spoke.

“I don’t think so, your grace. You see, you’re just like me, I’m never satisfied,” he said genuinely.

“Oh, is that right?” you questioned, forgetting not to show your intrigue. “Where is your family from, Thomas?”

I asked about his family, did you see his answer?

His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance

He’s penniless, he’s flying by the seat of his pants

You could see the reservation about the topic of his family in his eyes even before he spoke.

He shook his head nonchalantly, but his hands were fidgeting. “Doesn’t matter where my family’s from. I’m going places one day. Just you wait. You’ll see. Just you wait.” And with that, he was back with his soldier friends, leaving you fascinated and slightly lovestruck. You knew it was foolish to have feelings for someone you barely knew, especially being a princess, but you simply couldn’t help it. His boldness and lack of regard for your position ensnared you immediately, and before you’d even spoken much, you knew he had you.

Everything we said in total agreement

You spoke with the handsome soldier boy a few more times that night, always agreeing, constantly sharing the same opinions. It was as if you shared a mind. You never did get to dance with him, but you promised he would have a dance before the night was over. If you hadn’t been sure already, you were then. You were completely and utterly in love with him.

Handsome, boy, does he know it

Peach fuzz and he can’t even grow it

I wanna take him far away from this place

Then I turn and see my sister’s face and she’s

“Helpless,” your sister, Yelizaveta, whom you all affectionately called Eliza, said to you.

She had just pulled you to the side of the ballroom and told you that someone had her “helpless”.

“What do you mean? Who does?” you questioned.

“Him.” Eliza turned, and there he was.

Thomas. The one who had your younger sister so helpless was the very same young soldier who had stolen into your affections.

“He’s wonderful (Y/N/N)!” she turned back to you. “It’s Thomas Holland, General Njeri’s favorite soldier! He’s so handsome and brave.” Your sister was basically swooning by that point.

“Helpless? Eliza, it’s only been one night, are you sure?” You knew you were being hypocritical. You yourself felt deeply in love with Thomas and had also only met him that night. And anyway, you knew she wasn’t exaggerating. You knew your sister like you knew your own mind. All you had to do was look into her eyes and you knew she meant it when she said she was completely helpless for him.

“Yes, sister, I’m sure. He has me,” she replied.

And I realize

Three fundamental truths at the exact same time

You nodded, stroking her face and walking over to him. As you got closer to him, you realized three key truths that you had foolishly allowed yourself to forget.

Number One

I’m a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich

My father has no sons so I’m the one who has to social climb for one

You were the oldest of all your sisters, making you (Y/N), Crown Princess of Larione. The future ruler of your country. Crown princess, not prince. You would never be taken seriously as a ruler on your own. Your job was to marry a rich royal, preferably a king or crown prince. Thomas Holland was the furthest possible thing from that. A poor bastard orphan from the Caribbean, with no title or wealth. Simply a soldier favored by a revered general. As a woman, he could give you love, but as the future of the realm, there was nothing he offered you.

“How have I offended you now?” he asked jokingly.

“Not at all,” you said, smiling. “There’s actually someone I’d like you to meet.”

He raised his eyebrows as you grabbed his arm and led him in your sister’s direction.

“Where are you taking me?” he questioned.

“I’m about to change your life.”

“Well then, by all means, lead the way.”

As you approached your sister, she curtsied politely, saying “Princess Yelizaveta. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Princess?” Thomas turned to you in confusion, having thought this girl was one of your ladies.

“My sister!” you explained.

“Thank you for all you do, sir,” Eliza said.

“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet it will have been worth it.”

“I’ll leave you to it!” you said, smiling through the pain of your actions.

Number Two

He’s after me cause I’m a Schuyler Sister

That elevates his status

I’d have to be naive to set that aside,

Maybe that is why I introduced him to Eliza

Now that’s his bride,

Nice going, Angelica, he was right

You will never be satisfied

Thomas Holland was an ambitious man. A social climber, desperate to rise above his station. To marry a princess would make him a duke, one of the highest titles in Larione. His children would have royal blood, and so would his grandchildren after that. Perhaps that was the reason you had introduced him to your younger sister. A princess, but not one who would be queen. Someone a step above, but within reach. A decision you regretted almost immediately. You wished you had kept him to yourself. Ha, would you look at that, he was right. You will never be satisfied.

Number Three

I know my sister like I know my own mind,

You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind

If I tell her that I love him she’d be silently resigned

He’d be mine,

She would say “I’m fine”

She’d be lying

The week following the ball, Eliza and Thomas were writing back and forth constantly. Eliza’s eyes lit up with every letter that he wrote her. You played the role of the protective, prying older sister, saying to her in regards to the letters “I’m just saying If you really loved me you would share them!”, trying to playfully snatch one away.

Of course, it was all an act. You wished those letters were for you. You wished you were the one Thomas was so eager to write to. You wanted so badly to confess your feelings to Thomas and Eliza and to take him for yourself, but you could never do that to your kind, gentle sister. Realistically, if you were to confess, your sister would be happy for you. She would sway Thomas in your direction, just as you had done for her. She would tell you she was happy for you and that she was alright. She’d be lying. Eliza felt strongly for Thomas, anyone could see it. She’d be heartbroken, but she’d deny it. She would want nothing more than your happiness, the same way you wanted her’s. Your love for her triumphed over all, even your love for Thomas. You loved her more than anything in this life and would put her happiness over your own every time. So you bit your tongue, hiding away your true feelings.

Before you knew it, several months had passed. Thomas, through ambition, skill and, and hard work, had risen in station from a common soldier to Secretary of Larione’s Treasury- a position high enough to marry a member of the royal family.

So finally, the time had come to ask your father for his blessing to marry your sister. You, Eliza, and your youngest sister, Margaery, or “Peggy”, were sitting on a couch in the upstairs corridor leading to the stairs, listening for your father’s approval.

Your father stood up and walked towards Thomas slowly. You got nervous, fearing he was going to deny Thomas’s request for marriage. You truly wanted him to bless the marriage. All you wanted was for Eliza to be happy. Thankfully, your father shook Thomas’s hand saying “be true to each other”.

Thomas smiled brightly, looking up to Eliza. You all rushed downstairs. You and Peggy hugged your new brother-in-law tightly, welcoming him to the family. You smiled softly as Eliza kissed him. Though it would be a lie to say you didn’t feel a flash of sadness at the reminder that he wasn’t yours. But as usual, you hid your feelings.

Days passed as quickly as they came, eventually leading up to Thomas and Eliza’s wedding. To say it was bittersweet would be an understatement. On one hand, your sister’s happiness brought you great joy, on the other, the prospect of Thomas being out of your reach permanently brought you great despair.

You smiled as you walked down the aisle as your sister’s maid of honor, but anyone who looked close enough would have seen your eyes were crying.

You couldn’t stop the tears pooling in your eyes as Thomas’s close friend, Lieutenant Colonel Harrison Osterfield spoke loudly, “Everyone, give it up for the maid of honor! Princess (Y/N)!”

“A toast to the groom!” you said enthusiastically, looking at Thomas and Eliza.

“To the groom!” the guests toasted.

“To the lovely bride!”

The guests repeated it back to you.

“From your most adoring sister,” you said, wrapping your free arm around Peggy. “Who’s always by your side.”

“May your marriage be long and prosperous,” you turned to Thomas specifically. “And may you always be satisfied.”

The young man smiled knowingly at you.

The wedding came and went, and before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Thomas and Eliza as they left for their honeymoon.

“Are you crying, sister? Oh, I love you ever so much!” Eliza said, wiping your tears and kissing your cheek. She thought you were crying tears of happiness for her. Oh, if only she knew. As she said her goodbyes to Peggy, you caught Thomas’s eye. In them was an expression of such deep longing it made your heart ache. Your gazes on each other lingered until Eliza’s sweet, lovestruck voice called out “Thomas?”. At the sound of her voice, he tore his gaze from you, stepping into the carriage and riding away with his wife. Eventually, Harrison, Jacob, and Tuwaine- Thomas’s fellow soldiers- alongside Peggy went back inside, leaving you standing alone, tears running down your face outside of the chapel where your dearest sister just married your one true love.

He will never be satisfied.

I will never be satisfied.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x princess!reader #tom holland imagine #hamilton fanfic #hamilton #tom holland angst

55 notes · View notes

sourholland · 2 years ago

Text

Glamorous || Tom Holland

Part Twelve

Summary → In this Princess Diana retelling, you are working in a nursery school as an aid in London, as well as a part time nanny. With slight aristocratic ties, you choose to live a more normal and mundane life. When the Prince of Wales comes to know you and bring you into the spotlight, everything changes. Truths coming too late, lies straining your relationship, and the impending future of the country falling on your shoulders. Is this really the stuff of which fairytales are made?

AN → Ah so not so long of a wait but here’s another part, 1987 is upon Glamorous!! This was honestly probably one of the saddest chapters I’ve written for this story. Feedback is heavily heavily appreciated and let’s me know you guys want me to continue.

Pairing(s)→ Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → Strong language, Mentions of Sex, Infidelity, Depression, Mental Health Issues

Word Count → 2.6k

July, 1986 - I have loved you for many years

The gala was booming, those of the highest status perusing about happily.

Tom was off speaking to someone, leaving you to walk around the beautiful space. The interior was almost all gold, chandeliers hanging from every high ceiling. After so long, you thought you’d be used to such extravagance, but it never ceased to amaze you.

“Enjoying yourself, Princess?” A voice sounded behind you.

“Hm?” You turned, seeing a young man dressed in a black suit, speaking in a monotone voice you replied to him. “Oh, yes. I’m having great fun.”

He laughed loudly, it was nearly infectious. This man had one of those laughs that came from the belly, mouth wide open, cheeks flushed with color. This made you grin just a bit, holding a glass of champagne in your hand and looking over the crowd.

“Could I—”

“Excuse me, I’d like to cut in and steal my wife for a dance,” Tom’s voice sounded suddenly.

The man looked disappointed, his smile dropping. However, he didn’t protest. Tom took your hand gallantly, leading you to the floor when the soft music began to play as the orchestra began. Your gown was white with black floral decals, swooping at your ankles. Tom has always been an amazing dancer, it was infuriating to you.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered into your ear.

“You’re already drunk,” you chuckled, annoyed.

“Not at all, just admiring how beautiful you are. It’s not fair, truly—how every single man in this room wishes to have you.”

“I’m no item to be had.”

His breath smelled of liquor, yet you had to remain smiling and happy for the photographers in the audience. Tom’s grasp on your waist tightened, the look in his eyes unreadable. If he hadn’t been so charming, you’d have slapped him in the face.

“Kiss me,” he murmured. “They’ll love it, kiss me, darling.”

“You’re an ass, you know that,” you whispered back to him.

In a moment of weakness, craving his approval or validation, you leaned into his arms and pressed a passionate, but classy kiss on his soft lips. Those watching did in fact love it, and those dancing around you loved to see the Wales’ happy and smiling as well. Tabloids had been merciless lately, putting your marriage on the front page of every magazine, headlining every fight that may or may not have happened.

Tom smiled as the kiss ended, but leaned back in once more for another chaste peck. You couldn’t help but to flush easily, somewhat pleased with his rare affection.

Both you and Tom sat aimlessly on the floor of the hotel suite, drunk and exhausted. His face was flushed, his cheeks scarlet. There was a staleness to the air, a buzzing in your ears, and nothing but the soft hum of the telly in the background. The gala had ended very late, leaving you both to stumble upstairs.

“Why me?” You began. “Why did you have to marry me?”

He finally looked at you, but said nothing. His eyes were glassy, lips swollen and pink. He was expressionless. It was a fair question, one you were eager to know the answer to, even if it killed you.

“Mother and father were relentless, I was indecisive. I knew I needed to get on with it. It was just—you were perfect. Everything a man could want, it was an easy choice.”

“But not what you wanted?” You breathed out unsurprised. “I was of the right blood, bred for it. A virgin too, I suppose. I was easy, something you needed to get on with. Though, not what you wanted?”

He took a long and swift sip of the open wine bottle beside him, pressing it to his lips hard. His knuckles went white from how hard he grasped the neck of the glass. Once he finally looked at you, it was clear as day what he would say.

“No, Y/N. Not what I wanted. I wanted to want it, I truly did.”

There was a stale silence to the room, white noise filling the awkward space. Tom would drink himself to madness, you thought. Everyone coped differently, perhaps.

“But I mean, Y/N—it’s not like you are living some miserable life, I mean look at you,” he chuckled. “Every man in the world dreams of having you, every woman wants to be you. To the entire world, you are perceived to have some fairytale love story, and you’re quite literally a princess.”

Why did everyone throw this in your face?

It wasn’t real, none of it was real. If it was, you would not be living the predicament you were. There is no Y/N Y/L/N anymore. She was gone, long gone the second she entered this marriage of absolute travesty.

Tom seemed to notice how his comment was not funny to you, easing up and little bit and beginning to say he didn’t mean it as a jab. Only then did you stand, breathing in deeply and calmly staring at him.

“Every single man in the world could want me, Thomas. It wouldn’t matter, but thank you for telling me how grateful I should be!”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to—”

“Our relationship has fucking destroyed me! And believe me, I know that marrying a better man would’ve been easier, I know that it would’ve worked better! However, to everyone’s regret, to my own regret, my own frustration and pain—the only person I have ever loved is you.”

Tom stilled, his eyes fixated on the floor. There was intensity between you two, a sort of electricity that made you feel like it’d physically pain you to reach out and touch him. He hoisted himself up off the floor, you figured that this would end how every other argument between the two of you does.

Hot tears streamed down your face, you tried wiping them away furiously. Every fiber of your being was begging him to say something, anything. The way he was looking at you made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to want you. His silence was telling, though. You started for the door, suddenly self conscious of your sleep shorts and extremely oversized Queen T-Shirt that Freddie Mercury had gifted you himself as a gag joke at your last birthday party.

“Wait,” Tom choked out. “Stay, just—just stay, please?”

Turning to look at him, he walked the few steps to get to you and immediately wrapped you into his embrace. Hugging was most certainly a rarity from him, at least to you. He buried his head in your neck, and you stood stiff for a moment, unsure of what to do. His grip tightened around you like a child missing his mother.

“I wish I could love you in the way you deserve,” he mumbled into your hair. “I wish I could, I don’t know why I can’t.”

There was a crack in his voice, your arms reaching around him finally. There was an ache in your heart, you felt like a weary shell of a woman. Tom’s staggered breathing only made you want to break down farther into tears.

“Stay with me? Please, just stay with me for one night?” He looked you in the eyes pleadingly.

“Tom, you’re sloshed,” you sniffled out.

“Please?”

There it was. The thing that got you into this mess in the first place. Tom had something over you that made it almost impossible to say no, or see reason. He led you to the bed, both of you already dressed down. Then he sat down onto it and you did the same.

Laying together was not sensual in any way, you weren’t touching, only lying beside one another. Tom had turned off all of the lights, the room nearly consumed with darkness. He reached to touch your hand, but you pulled it back.

“This relationship has fucking destroyed me,” you repeated in a small, but clear voice.

“I know.”

January, 1987 - I know, you know, he knows

Something had possessed you to go and visit Sam in a spout of loneliness, only to find that he was not home once you arrived on his estate. Elizabeth, however, was in. She was so pretty, her smile was contagious. In the years you’d been able to know her, she had become a friend to you. Never close, though. She’d always been a bit reserved when it came to you.

Her pregnant belly was swollen with life when she invited you in for tea. The large inside was still decorated for Christmas, this made you smile. Elizabeth and Sam seemed like two very festive people. Her sitting room was dressed in colorful garland, the Christmas tree shedding pines still.

“Thank you,” you said as she motioned for you to take your cup. “I’m sorry to come by unannounced, I was sure Sam would’ve been in.”

“He’s been out a lot lately, engagements and such,” she smiled. “How is Tom? And the boys?”

“They’re grand, five and three now. Henry’s getting so big,” you gushed. “You’ll see, soon enough with this little one coming.”

Elizabeth talked for a few more minutes, asking about your life and more about the children. She was very careful around the topic of your marriage, seeing as every magazine in the world seemed to be talking about its downfall.

“Y/N, I have a question that I’ve wanted to ask you for quite some time and I hope you will excuse my bluntness, but know I won’t think any less of you regardless,” said Elizabeth.

“Go on.”

“Do you love Sam?”

This question was a shock to you, but it made sense why she was asking. Since your marriage had taken a turn for the worse, Sam had been a shoulder to lean on, and a friend. Elizabeth was only human to assume you meant more. Everyone in the family knows that your husband remains unfaithful to you, she probably assumed you wished to drive Sam to do the same.

“Lizzy, Sam is my brother. I love him like I love my own brother. If my friendship with him bothers you, please tell me and I will not continue to overstep any—”

“He loves you, Y/N,” she said aloud. “I know he loves you, he knows he loves you. I know he will never leave me, but I know when I’m looking into the eyes of the man I love and he’s seeing someone else.”

Elizabeth was not crying, not as you would’ve been in her position. She was calm, sipping her tea and waiting for you to respond. It was obvious that she’s been hoping to have this conversation for some time, even if it felt like an ambush.

When Sam had professed his love to you all those years ago, you vowed to never tell his secret. This was so long ago, though. He was a fully grown man now, with a wife and child on the way.

“Sam will never be unfaithful to you, Elizabeth, he cares too much for his family. I can assure you that I have never entertained anything more the familial and platonic friendship. I know what it’s like to be betrayed, and I know what it’s like to feel that way.”

“Y/N, I will only ask you this once and you have every right to say no, but would you please give Sam some space away from you? For mine and our child’s sake,” her voice was almost desperate. “I just can’t let my marriage turn into yours and—”

She stopped herself almost immediately.

“Mine and Tom’s,” you breathed, setting down your cup and standing up. “I see. Elizabeth it was nice of you to invite me in, but I must get back. Give Sam my best when he arrives home.”

“Y/N—”

“No!” You said as she tried to grab onto your shoulder. “I’m sorry, just—I am going to see myself out.”

The tears began as you reached your car, cursing yourself for crying over such bullshit. There was a part of you that wished to just never wake up, a part of you that hated the life you were living.

The only thing that brought you joy anymore was Henry and James, they were your only source of true happiness and love. Everyone else, even your husband, resents you terribly. After seeing Elizabeth, you felt like you were now losing your best friend. You simply couldn’t go against her wishes, however rude she was at the end of your visit. You would not be the downfall of your brother-in-law’s marriage.

The tears seemed to cloud your vision so badly it felt impossible to drive, pulling over you put the car in park and just sat for a moment.

“Fuck!” You shouted into the steering wheel, the only lone car on a winding empty road.

April, 1987 - Be a man

“You’ve been ‘round to check up on Y/N, yeah?” Paddy asked Tom, sounding casual with a twinge of seriousness.

“I’m heading over after I leave here, it’s been awhile, but yeah, I’d say. Why?”

They were walking around Paddy’s property, the hunting dogs trailing behind them in submission. Tom tried to visit his brothers more as of late, feeling them all getting older.

“I’ve heard things,” Paddy confessed. “About her, Y/N, I mean. That she’s doing things to herself, she’s always isolating herself and such.”

Tom grimaced, the family truly couldn’t mind their own business. However, Y/N’s problems had started to become more mainstream within the papers. He felt horrible, obviously, no doubt about that. This was just something he had no clue how to deal with, and Eleanor made him feel like he shouldn’t be worrying about her. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel.

“Tom, I don’t want to get involved in this mess of a marriage, but it is a marriage. She’s your wife, and she loves you. Clearly she’s got mental health problems, being in this family has seriously fucked her up.”

“She married into this family, she knew what she was getting into,” Tom tried to counter.

“She was just a kid,” Paddy snapped. “You know that. She was hardly older than me.”

“She was an adult!”

“I’m twenty four and you still call me ‘buddy’ and ‘kid’, for fucks sake! It’s been seven years, Tom. Own it. We all know mistakes were made when she was brought into this family. Why can’t you just fucking admit it? Mum does, father does!”

Tom ceased walking and looked at Paddy with irritation, shoving him back a little harder than a playful brotherly shove. Paddy pushed him back, followed by another shove by Tom. It only took one more good, hard press by Paddy that had Tom on his ass.

“Look, you’re my brother and I love you. But God! What the fuck is the matter with you? Go be a fucking man, Tom! You’re thirty years old, be with your wife and kids, Tom. It’s pathetic!”

With that, he trekked off towards the large estate, leaving Tom behind.

taglist - @ninacotte @justapurrcat @allthisfortommy @spideyspeaches @veryholland @teenagedisxster @itsallyscorner @tomsirishgirl @runawayolives @devcarlsons @thecodyexpress @kassey @casualprincess77 @outshineallthestars @readheadwriter @cleverzonkwombatsludge @sarcasm-and-stiles @liltimmyst @moniffazictress11 @sakaki-chaaaaannn @silscintilla

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #elle’s fics #tom holland #prince!tom #royal!tom #tom holland series #prince!tom x princess!reader #prince tom holland #prince!tom holland #prince!tom x reader #tom holland blurbs #tom holland blurb

105 notes · View notes