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fanficshiddles · 2 years

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Delayed Gratification, One Shot

Thanks for the prompt I hope you like it!

Maybe a Dominate Thomas Sharpe with a sub that is a teacher in town. After being in charge all day she’s happy to hand over the control. Maybe some delayed gratification.

She was always so happy to get home after working all day at the school. It was absolutely exhausting being in charge all day, being head mistress was not easy.

But as soon as she stepped inside her home, she was no longer the one in charge. She would feel all the stress of the day slip away when her beloved dominant Thomas came into view.

After kicking off her shoes, Thomas opened his arms to her and she immediately rushed into his awaiting embrace. He hugged her tightly and pressed his face into the top of her head.

‘My darling…’ He hummed and rubbed her back softly underneath her blouse, making her moan against him as his hands felt so good on her skin.

‘Sir.’ She whispered.

Thomas smiled and leaned back, he cupped her chin and held her steady as he ducked his head down to kiss her softly, but the kiss grew heated, hungry. A promise of more to come tonight.

‘Go into the bedroom, undress and get into position, my darling.’ He demanded softly.

She didn’t need to be told twice as she scurried off to their bedroom. Thomas gave her a few minutes, then when he walked through he found her exactly as he wanted.

There at the end of the bed, on the soft rug, she was kneeling on her knees and arms, back arched so her butt was in the air. Legs slightly parted open.

Thomas hummed in approval as he stalked around her a few times, making her tremble in desire and anticipation. The waiting was always the difficult part for her, she just wanted his hands on her all the time. But Thomas enjoyed making her wait.

He crouched down behind her, making her blush as she knew he was inspecting her.

‘Ohh, pet. I can see you glistening already with arousal.’ He ran a finger down through her folds, making her jump and moan, she bit her lip to try and keep quiet. But it didn’t help as he kept running his finger up and down, over her clit a few times that sent tremors through her entire body, right down to her toes.

She closed her eyes and focused on enjoying the feeling as his long fingers teased her. He added a second to the mix and ran them in gentle circles around her clit, then he would slide down a little and insert them just a small way into her, before pulling out and repeating the process of sliding up and down over her clit.

When she started whimpering and squirming slightly, Thomas chuckled and removed his hand from her completely. But not before giving her ass a swift smack, making her jolt forward, but she quickly caught herself from landing flat on her face.

‘What is it you want?’ He asked, sliding his hand down her spine.

‘You… please, Sir. Make me cum.’ She whimpered.

Thomas chuckled and gave her one last stroke down her cunt, then he stood up straight and walked round on front of her, smirking. ‘You’re going to have to beg better than that, pet.’

She crawled to him, closing the distance and leaned up, wrapping her arms around his thigh she clung to him and pleaded up at him with her eyes.

‘Pleaseeeee, Sir. I just want you.’ She whined.

He reached down and stroked her hair. ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Please, please, please. Sir, I need you!’ She palmed at his cock through his trousers, feeling he was hard. But Thomas was too good at self-control, far too good.

‘Get on the bed, on your back.’ He demanded softly, pleased when she instantly did as he said and she got on the bed on her back.

She put her arms up above her head submissively.

‘Hmm… To tie you up or not.’ Thomas pondered, walking to the end of the bed. He stared up at her with a wicked gleam in his eye, making her squirm. ‘You’re rather squirmy today, so I think I will need to tie you up, make sure you behave.’

The mere thought of being restrained excited her even more. And when he brought out the leather straps, she could barely contain her excitement.

‘Easy, pet.’ Thomas chuckled as he tied her wrists to the top of the bed. ‘You’re going to learn a lesson of delayed gratification.’ He purred.

‘Oh no.’ She whined, louder than she had meant to.

‘Oh yes.’ Thomas laughed and moved down to tie her ankles to either corner at the bottom, so she was spread open nice and wide for him.

He took his place beside her, stroking her body all over, before delving between her thighs to stroke her. Concentrating on her clit, driving her wild. He put a little more pressure on, rubbing up and down.

She tugged against her restraints and her toes curled as she felt the pleasure building up inside her. She was so close, just a little more…

But Thomas cruelly stopped rubbing and he tapped her clit a few times, then eased off her entirely. She cried out in frustration, but it didn’t end there. It was just the beginning.

Thomas had more plans up his sleeve. He briefly disappeared to the cupboard, taking out a hitachi wand. Her stomach dropped, she knew this meant it was going to be a long evening. And that toy was lethal, merciless... It never got tired.

As soon as it was turned on and pressed against her, she started howling. The vibrations were so strong, pressed firmly against her clit and she couldn’t escape it. It felt like her whole body was vibrating, even her bones. But no matter how strong and intense the vibrations were, Thomas kept pulling it away each and every time she was about to cum.

‘Please… Sir… Please, I can’t take anymore.’ She sobbed, unable to stop the tears of pure frustration and arousal from rolling down her cheeks.

‘Ohh but you can, my darling. Because we both know that the end reward will be far greater than if I were to allow you to cum now.’ He purred.

To give her body a break from the vibrations, he used his gentle fingers again. Rolling her clit slowly, being ever so careful to not accidentally push her over the edge. But he knew her body too well, he was always watching her and taking in every single movement from her. He knew her body better than even she did.

Thomas used his fingers for a few edging rounds, then the menacing hitachi came back into play. He even started playing with her nipples too, making it ten times more difficult for her.

‘Don’t you dare cum yet.’ He growled in warning, but he helped her by easing off again when she needed, when she did get too close.

He had been teasing her for god knows how long, it felt like hours for her.

When she finally thought he was going to take pity on her and give her an orgasm, he turned the hitachi off completely and untied her ankles, but he kept her wrists tied for now.

‘Mmm, my good girl. I think you can wait until later before getting your release. I’ve got dinner in the oven, it should be ready by now.’ He grinned and nuzzled her cheek, then released her wrists.

She knew better than to try and touch herself. Even though she was shaking and dripping wet, she just clung to Thomas instead and nibbled on his neck to try and distract herself.

‘Please… Please, Sir.’ She sobbed against him.

‘No, darling. You will wait.’ He said and patted her bum. ‘Like I said, delayed gratification. It will be worth it.’ He promised.

#tom hiddleston #thomas sharpe #one shot #prompt #delayed gratification #thomas sharpe x ofc

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mischievoushiddleston · 2 years

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Rules for Request!

- No Anonymous (If you don't want me to publish your name, let me know).

-Only one request per user. After the one-shot is published, you have to wait one week to send a new request! -Only requests for one-shots, no second parts. (I always vote for a one-shot that gets a FF). Things I won't write about: - M / M - F / F - Sub Tom Hiddleston/Oscar Isaac/Sebastian Stan/Richard Madden or their characters. -Song Fics There are no taboos for me and any taboo is welcome, however I do take the liberty to reject a taboo at times should it cross my boundaries after all. Threesomes are also welcome, so M/F/M, but only with Sebastian Stan, Richard Madden, Oscar Isaac and Tom Hiddleston, I will not write for other actors.

Actors and character I write about: Tom Hiddleston [Thomas Sharpe, Jonathan Pine, James Conrad, Thomas Hiddleston Jaguar British Villians, Will Ransome and of course Loki], Oscar Isaac [Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley (Moon Knight), Leto Atreides (Dune), Peter Malkin (Operation Finale), Santiago Garcia (Triple Frontier), Mikael Boghosian (The Promise), Rydal Keener (Two Faces of January), Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)], Sebastian Stan [Bucky Barnes, Nick Fowler] and Richard Madden [David Budd (Bodyguard) and Ikaris (Marvel)].

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slashersidewhore · 10 months

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Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

#slasher #thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #michael myers #slasher x reader #jason voorhees #slashers x reader insert #slashers x gn reader #slashers x reader #thomas hewitt fanfic #thomas hewitt x reader #jason voorhees x reader #Jason Voorhees fanfic #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers fanfic #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair fanfic

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cleo-fox · 8 months

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Close Quarters

Part 2 of 2

(Part 1)

Summary: The thrilling conclusion to Part 1.

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki, Reader gets a little bratty, little bit of a sir kink, cunnilingus, blow jobs, filth.

A/N: I know I usually choose a Loki GIF but Thomas Sharpe seemed…more appropriate. I’ve got a couple more one shots with these idiots, so if you want to see more, lemme know.

Mercifully, the hallway is empty.

You imagine that your exit from the elevator looks as scandalous as what happened inside it. You are draped in Loki’s arms, still out of breath and a little glassy eyed from the two earth shattering orgasms that he’d given you only minutes prior. In contrast, Loki looks relatively put together and intently focused, like there’s nothing more important on this earth than getting you both back to your suite as quickly as possible. That thought gives you a bit of a thrill—the idea of you wanting him is not necessarily new or unusual, but the idea that he might want you just as much is utterly thrilling.

It occurs to you that you’re in rather close proximity to his neck and it seems like a shame to let that opportunity go to waste. You press your lips against the pulse point in his throat and lazily make your way along his jaw. His breath hitches when you catch his earlobe between your teeth.

“Are you trying to ensure that I take you in the hallway, Mrs. Pine?” he says, his voice dropping deep.

“I won’t be able to scream for you in the hallway,” you breathe into his ear, “and I kinda think you want that.”

“Minx,” he growls, picking up his pace just slightly as you resume kissing his neck.

“I take it that means I’m right,” you say. “Or that I’m in for it when we get back to the room.”

He chuckles. “Oh, it’s both, darling.”

You shiver and nip at his earlobe once more.

Loki drops the glamor as soon as the door to your room shuts behind you and while you like the cropped blond hair of Jonathan Pine, there is something about his natural long, dark locks that drives you wild.

“Let’s me make two things clear, Agent,” he says as he carries you into the bedroom. “First: there are no covers in here; I want you screaming my name when you come. Second—” he sets you down at the foot of the bed. “—I want to taste your pretty cunt.”

Heat and tension coil in your hips. “I can agree to both of those things.”

“Good. Undress.”

He watches as you slowly strip off your swimsuit, his eyes greedy and hungry. Once you’re completely naked, he gives himself a moment to look you over in full, unconsciously licking his lips when his gaze falls on your breasts and hips, his eyes devouring every inch of you. Finally, he nods at the foot of the bed. “Sit.”

You sit down on the bed and he begins unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time and you watch, enraptured by the slow reveal of his well-muscled chest and taut, flat stomach. The shirt is discarded on the floor with your swimsuit. He undoes his belt, then the button and zip on his shorts.

He’s wearing black boxer briefs, which surprises you—you had assumed that his preference was likely to go commando. But honestly, the boxer briefs are so fitted that the effect is essentially the same: they cling to every dip and swell and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The material is taut across his thighs and his cock strains hard at the fabric. If pressed, you could probably create a reasonably accurate sketch based on this view alone.

You don’t have terribly long to contemplate this, though—he kneels in front of you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, his large hands cupping your breasts. His kiss is thorough and sensual, but the addition of his hands kneading your breasts and gently teasing and pinching the sensitive skin of your nipples may actually send you into the stratosphere.

And then he lowers his mouth to your breast and you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. He strokes his tongue lazily on your nipple in slow circles, lightly teasing the hardened bud with his teeth and bringing another flood of slick arousal to your cunt. Your hips rock fruitlessly against nothing, seeking friction to ease the throbbing pulse of your clit.

You sigh, letting your eyes close and your head tip back, your fingers tangling in his hair. After a moment, you reach for his free hand and guide it between your legs. His fingers dip between your legs, collecting your slickness and gently rolling against your clit.

You moan and he draws back, eyes dark. “Lie back,” he says softly.

You recline on the bed and his focus shifts to you spread out before him. “Lovely,” he says. He is being sincere—and there’s a power in that that thrills you, that sends even more heat and slick to your aching cunt.

When he’s looked his fill, he brings both of your legs over his broad shoulders. He lowers his head to your cunt slowly, first dipping down to inhale your scent and then with one wicked grin, slipping the warm blade of his tongue between your folds.

Your exhale is shaky and turns into a soft whine in the back of your throat as he licks a long, broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Loki.” His name falls from your lips unbidden. You prop yourself up on your elbows and drink in the sight of him between your legs, head bowed like he is worshiping at the most sacred and solemn altar.

In the elevator, he was determined to make you come as quickly as possible; now, though, in the privacy of your room, he seems intent on taking his time and building you up achingly slowly. His tongue laves over your clit at a leisurely pace, teasing and tasting and sucking until he finds the rhythm and movement that makes you try to press your quaking thighs together because it feels so incredible. He gently presses your legs back open, keeping you spread and fully at the mercy of the rolling waves of pleasure that his mouth is creating. One of his long and elegant fingers slides inside of you and curls, pressing against that sweet, soft spot that makes your hips buck and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

When a second finger joins the first a few minutes later, you know that it won’t be much longer. Loki looks up at you, lust-glazed eyes glittering like he knows that too.

You approach the edge slowly, your breath coming in rolling gasps, your hands gripping his hair. He watches you, his gaze both hungry and mischievous. You bite your lip, breath stuttering as you furrow your brow against that final ascent.

And then the tension finally snaps and your head tips back as you tumble off the edge and into your climax, your free fall as decadent and shiver-inducing as the beautifully slow buildup.

You don’t manage to gasp his name because the concept of words has fled you entirely and the only sound that escapes your lips is a sharp cry. From the glint in his eye and the low groan of approval offered against your clit, Loki doesn’t seem to mind at all.

The aftershocks roll through you in rippling waves that make your toes curl and it takes you a moment to catch your breath.

“I confess, I’m quite tempted to stay here all night,” says Loki, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. “You have the sweetest cunt.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you say, your words slurred with pleasure.

“Hardly.” He licks you very slowly from your entrance to your clit and you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. He repeats the same circuit twice more.

“In fact,” he murmurs, placing another kiss on your clit, “I think I may need another taste.” Another lingering kiss, his tongue teasing your entrance. You suck in a shuddering breath.

“One more.” Another long stroke of his tongue and you shiver again.

“Darling, I’m so sorry—” a quick kiss to your clit, “—but I think I’m going to have to make you come again. I'm simply famished.”

Your back arches and you moan as his mouth once again envelopes your clit and his fingers slide back inside you, curling into that soft, sweet spot. You’re a little sensitive, but he’s moving with such achingly perfect precision that you can already feel another orgasm starting to build in your hips.

The ascent is much quicker this time, and you soon find yourself whimpering and panting, your hands tangling again in his hair. He groans against you and you swear you feel the vibrations shimmer all along your aching core.

“Please,” you moan. “Please. I’m so close. Please.”

He lets you ride the edge for a little bit longer, despite your pleas and your iron grip on his hair. But after a minute or so, he seems to take pity on you and he increases his pace just slightly. Your orgasm blossoms in your hips, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as you moan his name to the ceiling.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs a moment later, as his fingers coax you through the aftershocks. He looks you over, licking his lips. “You’re gorgeous like this, you know,” he says, eyes dragging greedily over your body. “Naked and utterly fucked out. Perfection.”

You shiver and slowly convince your loose muscles to allow you to sit up. “I don’t think you can say I’m fucked out if you haven’t actually fucked me.”

His eyebrow arches, “Is that so?”

You scoot to the edge of the bed so that you can run your hands over his firm chest. You press a kiss just above his belly button, tongue flicking out briefly against his skin. “Seems reasonable to me.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, Agent?” he says, his voice dropping low.

“I mean, that’s what I was hinting at, yes,” you say.

His eyes are hooded as he gives you a sly, calculating smile. “But do you deserve to be fucked, Agent?”

Feeling a little bold, you place your palm flat against the substantial bulge in his boxer briefs, running your hand along the hard, thick length of him. Fuck, he’s big. “Yes,” you say.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says, his expression and voice deliciously stern despite your hand on his cock. “You’ve been quite pert. Disobedient. Mouthy.”

You think you have an idea where this is going. “So am I getting punished or begging for you to forgive me?” you ask with a coy smile.

The hunger and delight in his gaze makes you ache. “Let’s see what your smart mouth can do to my cock and maybe then I’ll consider fucking you.”

You lick your lips and trace your fingertips along the sharp lines of his Adonis belt, pausing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. You hook your fingertips under the elastic and pull them down.

His cock springs free as the fabric falls to the floor. Between sitting on his lap and the unsubtle nature of the boxer briefs, you knew he was long and thick, but you’re still not fully prepared to experience the full effect of seeing his cock be hard and ready for you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. You take a moment to admire him, despite the fact that you know it’s likely only inflating his ego.

“Do you want me, Agent?” he drawls with a lazy smile. “Do you want my cock?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you say. “In fact, I’m certain you do.”

“Perhaps I like hearing you say it,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke your cheek. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

Impulsively, you get to your feet and pull him into a kiss. You can still taste yourself on him—salty and a little sweet.

“You like hearing me talk about how I want you?” you say, pressing your hips against his.

“Very much.” His voice is a low purr and you shiver in his arms.

“I’m aching for you to fill me,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him. “I’m dripping just thinking about it.” You nip at his lower lip and he groans against your mouth. “But first, I want to get on my knees and worship your perfect cock with my mouth.”

There's a low, pleased rumble deep in his chest and you shiver as you draw away. “Sit down.”

He sits down on the foot of the bed and you position yourself in front of him, standing between his spread thighs and lowering yourself to your knees. You run your hands up his thighs, lightly dragging your fingernails along his skin, enjoying the slight hitch in his breath. You kiss the inside of his left knee and slowly make your way up the inside of his left thigh, dragging your tongue along his skin every so often. You continue this all the way up to the crease where his thigh meets his hip, close enough that he can feel the heat of your breath on his beautiful cock.

And then you lean back and begin the same process again on his right leg.

“What,” he says, his voice going deep and dark, “did I say about playing games, Agent?”

You tilt your head to look up at him. He’s staring down at you with a stern look that makes your cunt clench.

“You know, I came so hard earlier, I can’t quite recall,” you say, making your eyes as wide and innocent as you can.

“And if you want to come again tonight, you’ll find a way to remember,” he says. He’s stern and authoritative, and it’s ridiculously hot. “Now put that smart mouth to work on my cock,” he growls.

“Yes, sir.” The phrase just sort of slips out, but the way it makes your cunt ache and his eyes glitter is absolutely delicious.

“Oh, I like those manners, pet,” he purrs. “I want to hear more of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, pausing to lick your lips, “sir.”

“Good girl.”

His cock is flushed and so hard it presses up against his stomach. You wrap one hand around his shaft and you suck in a breath when your fingers don’t quite meet. He’s huge and the thought of having him inside of you makes you shiver and ache in anticipation.

You stroke him once and lower your mouth to the tip of his cock, placing gentle, closed mouth kisses on it.

He tolerates this for about thirty seconds.

“Agent.” His voice is laced with warning. “I won’t warn you again.”

Your lips curl into a slight smile and you flick your tongue against the tip of his cock, savoring the sharp tang of his pre-come. His eyes glitter down at you, still watching, waiting for you to disobey him.

“Am I not allowed to savor this experience?” you ask, intentionally licking your lips.

“I would urge you to consider that only good girls get to come on my cock, darling,” he says, his voice going dark and deliciously stern. “Choose your next moves wisely.”

The reality is that you desperately want to come on his cock and you wouldn’t put it past him to deny you. So, you offer him a sly smirk before you slowly begin to lick the tip of his cock, gradually opening your lips and bringing him into your mouth.

He groans softly. “You just need a firm hand, don’t you?” he says as you begin to move your head, stroking his shaft in a slow rhythm. His fingers card through your hair as he leans back on one hand, allowing himself to relax a little. “Or perhaps it’s that you want my cock more than you want to be a brat.”

You look up at him and raise an eyebrow. He’s not wrong.

He laughs low in his throat. “Oh, I think I’m going to have you taking my orders by the time the week is up.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek with his thumb. “You have such a needy little cunt and I rather think that will prove to be an advantage for me.”

Your instinct is to let out a low whine, but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You can’t fully stop yourself from reacting, though, and a soft whimper makes its way out of your lips.

He catches this and smirks. “You like being mouthy and talking back, but I think you also crave a little discipline. Being told what to do gets you off, doesn’t it?”

This time, you do whine and he smiles down at you, eyes hooded. “That works out rather nicely,” he says, his voice dropping deep, “because I quite enjoy giving orders.”

You shiver and he notices, running his fingers through your hair.

“Filthy girl,” he purrs. “We’re going to have so much fun together.” He watches you for a minute, eyes hooded, lips slightly parted. “You’re gorgeous like this, too, you know,” he says. “On your knees with my cock in your mouth like a good girl. I could watch this for hours.” You glance up at him and catch his lazy smile. “Though,” he continues, “I suspect you’ll also look gorgeous riding my cock. Or perhaps spread out and tied to the bed.”

This image is too much for you: a high pitched whine makes its way out of your throat before you can think better of it.

“Oh, you like that idea?” he says, not sounding very surprised at all. “You like the thought of being bound and completely at my mercy?”

Another embarrassing whine escapes you before you can stop it.

“We’ll have to explore that some time this week,” he says. “Though I am starting to develop a rather lengthy list of things I want to do to you.”

Fuck. You are caught between wanting him to keep talking and wanting him to shut up so you stop making such embarrassing noises.

Admittedly, the idea of making him feel so good that you render him speechless is also incredibly appealing.

You suck just a little harder, cheeks hollowing as you start running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, swirling it on the tip as you come up.

His eyebrows draw together, his lips parting slightly. “Fuck. That’s it.”

You pick up your pace just a little and he groans, his hand going to grip your hair.

“Yes—just like that.” His grip tightens on your hair. “If your cunt is even half as good as your mouth—fuck, yes, right there—I’m going to have a hard time leaving this room this week.”

You hum against his cock and he groans, his hips starting to rock toward your mouth. “Do you like this?” he asks, his voice husky. “Do you like being on your knees for me?”

You moan against his cock, sucking harder.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “Barely an hour and you’re already such a slut for my cock.”

You moan again, bobbing your head up and down his length.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs. “A bit of a brat to start, but I think I’m going to have to reward you for this. Your mouth is too fucking good.”

Another moan slips past your lips. He groans and is quiet for a minute or two, his hips rocking toward you.

His breath is coming in shaky gasps now. “I’m close, love,” he says, his fingers flexing in your hair. “I’m going to spill myself in your pretty mouth and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”

You can’t help but moan, which seems to spur him on. His lips part and you can almost feel how close he is.

He makes the most beautiful noise as he comes, a low groan that seems to reverberate in your cunt as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow his release greedily as you continue stroking him, your head moving up and down his length.

You pull off of him slowly, licking your lips and you look up at him, your mouth curling into a smirk. “So, was that a proper enough apology for you?” you ask.

He growls low in his chest, eyes opening to look down at you. “You are still far too pert for your own good,” he says. “I suspect I’m going to have to put you over my knee at some point this week. You need discipline.”

You suck in a deep breath as your cunt clenches at the possibility.

“But right now, I need to fuck you.” He gestures to the bed. “Get up here. Now.”

You don’t need any encouragement to follow this command, but the way that he delivers the order and the way his green eyes get all steely is enough for more slickness to collect between your legs. You clamber to your feet, but before you can even try getting on the bed, he’s pulling you to him and flipping you onto your back. He rolls on top of you, caging you in with his body, his impossibly hard cock throbbing against your stomach.

He kisses you, tongue pressing into your mouth, hungry and claiming. “Do you want me inside you?” he purrs against your lips. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I need you to fuck me,” you say, spreading your legs and tilting your pelvis up toward him. “I want you to claim me.”

His smile is sharp and he drags the tip of his cock along your cunt, coating himself in your slickness. “Still so fucking wet,” he growls.

“I told you I need you,” you murmur.

He lines himself up at your entrance and ever so slowly begins easing into you. He presses forward, inch by glorious inch, until his hips are flush against yours.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe. “You feel so good.”

He smiles and withdraws just an inch or two before pressing back in. You arch underneath him and let out a soft moan.

“How about that? Is that good?” he asks.

You moan and nod.

He repeats the action. “And this?”

You offer up another moan and he grins. He repeats the action again, clearly teasing you. “What about this one?”

“Loki, please—”

“What is it darling?”

You’re not quite sure if you want to kiss or slap that smirk right off his face.

“Please don’t stop, please—”

“Oh, you want me to keep doing this?” he says, his brow furrowing in mock confusion. “You should have said something.”

“Loki, please—”

He chuckles quietly and begins rocking his hips against yours in slow, shallow thrusts. You sigh and wrap your legs around his waist, meeting his mouth as he kisses you. You can tell he’s holding back, though.

“I’m not going to break,” you finally say, tilting your hips to rock with his. “I want more. I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you hard and his thrusts lengthen and deepen, his pace increasing just a hair, and you cry out because he’s now hitting that soft, sweet spot and he feels even better.

“You’re taking me so well, darling,” he says. “This snug little cunt was made for my cock, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you breathe, arching your back. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

He wraps those long fingers around your ankles and brings your legs up so that they are draped over his shoulders, your body folded in half. He thrusts again and his cock presses even deeper, rubbing against that tender spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit and you whimper. Pressure is starting to build in your hips again.

“You’re getting close already, aren’t you?” he rasps, grinning at you like a devil. “I can feel you starting to tremble.”

You keen, your cunt clenching around his steadily thrusting cock.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?” he growls.

You nod, words somewhere beyond you.

“I want you to soak my cock,” he purrs. “Let it all out. Scream for me.”

You feel yourself poised on the edge. So close.

“Come for me, darling, that’s it, let go, come for me, let me feel that sweet cunt milk me dry…”

You arch your back as your orgasm blossoms and unfurls. The sound that falls from your lips is a high pitched keening that would be Loki’s name, except there’s no space for anything besides this incredible feeling, his cock inside you, and the weight of him on top of you.

“Oh there you go, that’s it,” he murmurs. “You have the tightest, most exquisite cunt. I could fuck you for days.”

You moan, shuddering in the final throes, your cunt spasming around his thick cock. He withdraws for a moment and you moan at the loss, but he quickly flips you onto your stomach and slides right back inside you.

From this angle, his cock thrusts even deeper, pressing more directly against your G-spot. A few strokes in and it becomes glaringly apparent to you that you’re going to come again.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he pants, thrusting hard into you. “I can feel you starting to tremble already.”

You moan into the comforter, arching your back so he hits that spot again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest. “I want to hear every filthy little sound that you make. Every. Last. One.” He thrusts in time with those last three words and you moan.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growls, his hips thrusting hard. “You love me taking you from behind like a fucking animal.”

Your legs are shaking and you can feel your orgasm building. “Loki, I’m gonna come again,” you whimper.

“I know you are, sweet girl,” he growls. “I can feel your tight cunt trembling.” His free hand slides between your legs, fingers rolling over your clit in the same rhythm as his thrusting cock.

Your breath stutters and a low whine escapes your lips. You are deliciously close.

“Please.” Your voice is barely a gasp. You’re riding the very edge of that wave and it feels so good that you’re almost certain the oncoming climax couldn’t possibly feel better. Almost.

“Oh, you’re almost there, love, you can do it,” says Loki, his hand still moving with his hips. “You just need to let go.”

You whimper. You are almost there.

“Be my good girl and let go for me,” he rasps. “Come for me.”

It breaks quite suddenly, your whole body shuddering and your cunt clamping down hard on his cock as you come. The noise you make is animalistic, torn from somewhere deep in your chest.

“Fuck!” Loki is fucking you hard, hips pistoning against your ass. “So fucking tight, you’re like a vise when you come, fuck—” His speech gives way into either Asgardian or Old Norse—you’re not quite sure which, but the idea that you’ve made him feel good enough to abandon English is incredibly appealing.

You’re dreamily floating back down from your high when you hear him make that beautiful noise again, that low, deep groan that falls from his lips only when he comes. You feel his release flood your cunt, hot and thick, as his hips finally start to slow.

It’s another minute or two before he rolls off you, flopping down next to you on the bed. Before you even have a moment to miss him or the comforting weight of his body on yours, he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close.

You both lie there for a long moment, catching your breath.

You think back to your initial meeting with Fury, when you complained about being sent in with Loki. You’ve never been more pleased to be wrong in your entire life.

“So,” you say once you feel capable of speech, “you said you had some ideas for the rest of the week?”

If you thought his grin was devilish before, it’s nothing compared to what he looks like now as he pulls you on top of him.

“Darling,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki x yn smut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x y/n #loki odison x reader

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tinybrooms · 2 months

Text

Our Last Day, or maybe the first?.. - Thomas Hewitt x fem. Reader

Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever

Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary

NOTE: This is my second one shot and it's pretty long, maybe i am thinking about a second part so let me know if you want that, hope you like it, comments and feed back is always welcome.

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A few months had passed since your work at the slaughterhouse had started, you were one of the few people who had been able to access education and that had given you the opportunity to work as the supervisor's secretary.

Your days were longer than normal dealing with the male staff who looked at your body with desire and said rude comments every time you passed beside them, as did your boss who took the opportunity a couple of times to touch your ass "by accident'' and called you to his office for useless tasks that ended with indecent comments.

They were all idiots, all except Thomas, he just dedicated himself to his work and every time you said "good morning" he responded with a slight grunt while bowing his head a little, always a gentleman like his mama taught him.

-I see you're already packing - your supervisor looked at you from the door frame while you put your things in a cardboard box.

-Yes, I'm almost done - you looked at him smiling kindly trying to ignore the uncomfortable look he had on your butt that was visible in your pencil skirt.

-Leave that there for a moment, I need you to go down and tell Thomas that he has to go, the animal is still cutting meat and doesn't want to go home - the old man took off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt regardless of the worried expression on your face.

-Do I… should I go? sir, I think the best thing would be…

-It's an order, you still work here, that's why I didn't want to hire women, they're always so useless- the disgusting man laughed mockingly as he walked to his office - get off your ass and get down right now

Your gaze quickly fixed on the large window of what was your place from where you could clearly see Thomas hitting the pieces of meat with his sharp knife making a sound against the wooden table, it took you a few seconds to take a breath and pass saliva to get down, the aroma of raw meat disgusted you too much, just like the blood spread all over the place, that was what bothered you more than anything else.

-Hello..Hello Thomas - you smiled behind his back while your hands played nervously in front of you - well, I think they had already informed you that the slaughterhouse is going to close today and..- you sighed, adjusting your cat-eye glasses on your nose sighing holding on not to get dizzy with the intense aroma of meat - and well you must go home

Thomas paused a little but after a few seconds he hit the flesh again with such force that he made you jump on your heels.

-Thomas…please don't make this more difficult, I don't want them to come down and scold you like they always do- Your voice lowered a little, almost in a whisper, trying not to let your supervisor hear you and get you both in trouble, but Thomas just continued ignoring your advice

-Don't you listen to what she said you damn animal? You won't work here anymore, go home with your stupid family - your supervisor came down the stairs, standing halfway screaming in the distance, making the huge man turn around with his knife in his hand, squeezing it so hard that his knuckles seemed like they would break the skin from his hand

Your eyes looked with at the man with glasses and then at Thomas with fear that something would happen, after all you were in the middle and the tension of both collided with your small and fragile body, that was when your poor gaze weakened between you in the dark and humid environment, you could notice how Thomas's hand was shaking and his breathing was agitated making his chest rise and fall.

-Thomas..please - with fear your hand extended making the giant barely look at you through his long locks of hair - no…it's not worth it - with fear you took his hand, it was the first time Thomas felt the skin of a woman against his and despite the anger he felt, his breathing was not still agitated because of it, but because of the delicate way your skin felt against his - give me that, I'll put it here okay? -You looked at him slowly taking the knife, placing it on the table and you smiled shyly walking away a few steps slowly so that he wouldn't feel threatened.

-That's it damn idiot, I bet you've never felt that before, huh?, You'll get so hard with this bitch that you'll forget why you came here- The disgusting old man laughed as he returned to his office, leaving the two of you alone, tense and nervous.

Thomas just looked at the floor shyly, he knew he was right, no one had ever touched him even by accident and that made him feel vulnerable.

-It's okay Thomas, don't worry about what he says go home, I hope you and your family are okay - you smiled at him again, turning around in a hurry, almost running to the bathroom, you could feel a knot in your stomach because of all the vices and meat that were scattered on the tables, crossing the long corridor in a hurry until you reached the bathroom where as soon as you opened the door you vomited.

Your knees on the cold floor and your hands holding your own hair made it impossible for you to hear what was happening outside, retching made your eyes water and after a few minutes with shaky legs you stood up wiping your lips with the front of your hand.

You took a little longer looking at yourself in the mirror, fixing the lipstick that had been ruined with your fingers and carefully washing your hands, always taking care of your image as mom had taught you since you were a girl.

After that you went to your desk putting away the few things that were left, a couple of photographs and your notebooks with notes that maybe would no longer work at all but you still wanted to keep them, after all they were from your first job so with the box of cardboard full of your belongings under your arm you prepared to go say goodbye to your boss.

-I'm done sir, is there anything I can do… -your feet stopped dead looking at the completely destroyed office, the desk was broken in half and there we re objects thrown all over the place- sir? - You walked in fear towards what looked like a pair of destroyed legs under the wood of the table and as soon as you got closer you could notice the old man lying in a pool of blood with his head shattered.

The box under your arm slid hard, making it sound on the floor as it fell while your hands covered your face and a loud scream came from your throat and you took steps backwards trying to get out of the traumatic scene until your back collided with a firm figure making you spin fast.

There was Thomas, looking at you with his strong breathing and his dark eyes like you had never seen before while he held a chainsaw in his hand.

-Thom..Thomas-you looked at him scared, walking back again in fear looking at his hand-leave…leave that, leave it on the floor

Only a growl came out of his throat, answering you firmly and confusedly, but it was definitely a refusal to your request.

-Please…don't hurt me, I won't say anything, I promise -your wet eyes and your heavy breathing made him doubt, of course you were going to say something, but in the same way he didn't want to hurt you, you were always kind to him, you were the only person who noticed him when he arrived and who received him every morning wishing him a good day.

Your eyes and his were staring at each other, as if either of you were waiting for a movement from the other to attack or to scream, whoever acted first was going to react to the other, but the sound of a car interrupted making both of you look towards the front door which after a few seconds opened and they both could notice Officer Hoyt entering with the gun in his hand.

-It's the police…- you looked at him again, curious as to how they could find out about the crime - Thomas, they are going to arrest you, if they find you they will take you with them.

The big man looked at the floor confused, realizing what he had done and a fear began to grow in him, not knowing what to do to remedy the mistake he had made.

-Come with me - you approached with fear, careful not to make any movement that would make him believe that you were going to attack him or that you were going to run away and again your hand held his so delicately that once again Thomas felt special - I will get you out of here

You hurriedly pulled his hand, his huge body almost following you, looking behind you in fear of being discovered, but at the same time in his mind he kept having that curiosity about how you had decided to help him after what he did, he was a murderer and what he had done was wrong

-Come, here there is a door through which we entered, it is far from the main door, no one will notice - you looked at him to make sure that he remained calm and after a few minutes walking you let go of his hand to push the door with both hands and help him escape - no one will find you if you get home quickly

Thomas shook his head, approaching you again but this time extending his hand, offering it to you while his head remained down and his eyes avoided looking at yours.

-Do you…do you want me to go with you? -You looked at him curiously with a little fear and he just slowly shook his hand indicating that he wanted you to take it so you carefully approached taking his hand, following his step when he began to walk without bothering his chainsaw in the other hand

The road was silent at first, just the two of you both walking along the side of the road under the strong Texas sun, at no time letting go of the other's hand, which in the same way if you wanted to you couldn't do it, his hand was huge and strong making Yours will be hidden between his thick fingers.

-And…is anyone from your family at home right now? -You looked at him curiously, feeling stupid knowing that he wouldn't answer you but he just nodded with his head without taking his eyes off the front-Oh really?…is…your mother?

He denied and you continued asking trying to guess who was home, feeling stupid and insistent.

-Well, your uncle? -You looked at him, sighing in relief when he nodded, looking at you with a touch of innocence that was difficult for you to believe after knowing that he had ended your boss's life - oh really? That's good…I'm alone you know, my mom moved to Austin a week ago and I told her I would go with her as soon as I finished my work.

Thomas looked at you stopping his pace, his gaze was the same as always but his eyebrows furrowed with some sadness making you also look at him without knowing what was happening.

-Something happens? I said something wrong? Thomas, sorry, I didn't want to…- your free hand barely moved on your chest, trying to make him understand that you were sorry from the bottom of your heart, but he barely grunted denied and leaving your hand, his finger carefully touched the center of your chest and then touched himself pointing at him - you?…I don't understand

He again pointed at you and then at him almost desperately as if he wanted to let you know what he wanted to say but his words did not come out and your little understanding of him was almost impossible.

-You…do you want…me?…Do you want me to stay…with you? - Thomas nodded, taking your hand again walking without waiting for you to take a step, making you stumble - but, I can't…

His hand gave a strong squeeze to yours making you moan a little in surprise, an action that made him feel something strange, that was also something new that he had heard from a girl,

-I really would like to stay but I have to go with my mother- your eyes kept looking at the road trying not to trip again but then you fixed them on him when you didn't hear any grunt from him, at this point you had already understood that this was his way of communicating.

But the road became even quieter, only your footsteps could be heard on the asphalt and from time to time a sigh came out of your mouth due to the suffocating heat you felt on your forehead.

It was a couple of meters ahead when again the sound of a car behind you made you turn your head, feeling relief but worried when you noticed the police car stopping in the middle of the road.

-Hands up son, stay away from that poor girl - Officer Hoyt pointed at Thomas, cutting the cartridge from his gun.

Thomas knew what that sound meant, he had heard it many times when he saw Charlie and Monty hunting, so with his hand he pushed you a little away from him worried that something bad could happen to you.

It was your time to run away, you could run and get away until you lost sight of them but something made you stay there, watching as the policeman pointed his gun at Thomas and honestly inside you just felt scared that something could happen to him.

-Sir, he didn't do anything wrong to me, we were just walking…- you looked at him trying to fix the situation, believing that that would be enough for him to leave.

-I saw what he did in the slaughterhouse sweetheart, you should not protect this damn animal- Hoyt looked at you for a second to return his attention to the big man in front of him. -You murdered a man ya’know, you will go to prison for what ya’did

You could feel your breathing really hard, nervous and afraid that a bullet could come out and hurt Thomas, after all yes, he murdered a man but he did it to defend himself after all the bad things that they had been done to him and in the same way , it was not such an exemplary man who died, so it had not been a great loss

-We have a problem, sheriff - your attention quickly focused on an elderly man who was holding a shotgun and shot without thinking killing the officer, again your hands covered your face while you screamed in fear.

-Calm down your little girlfriend, Thomas - the man laughed, approaching the body and a pair of hands held your shoulders delicately, making your hands lower in fear, looking at the giant in front of you.

-I want this to stop, I don't want to see any more people die - you looked at him crying with fear - I don't want to be next, I've only been good to you, please don't hurt me.

-No one will hurt you darling- the old man laughed as he placed the sheriff's hat over his cap - This is the girl who's been making you hard for months uh Tommy? She is very pretty, of course we won't do anything bad to her right?

The fear inside you grew more and more, this man was even more disgusting than your boss was and it seemed that like Thomas, he had the idea that from today you would be part of the family and you would stay with them forever

Thomas looked at the man next to him, giving him a growl and standing in front of you looking at him threateningly.

-What? you're in love? - his laugh was louder this time - okay, I won't say anything to your little doll, now come here and put the sheriff in the trunk before he stink.

Thomas took a couple of steps and effortlessly took the officer's lifeless body and placed it in the trunk without difficulty, all in front of your disbelieving eyes.

-Come on honey get in the car, we have to go home with mama after all she has to meet her new girl

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Thanks for reading

Part 2 here!

#slasher #slasher community #slasher fandom #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beggining #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fluff #thomas hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #tcm #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt smut #the texas chainsaw massacre

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loverhymeswith · 8 months

Note

How do we feel about a one shot with “Dress” with a little smut here and there😏

Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Written for The Taylor Swift Tapes: Tommy Shelby - based on ”Dress”

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: 18+ only, minors dni. Smut. Not beta-read.

A/N: Thank you so much, Anon. I love this song and I was hoping someone might request it!

“Your hands are shaking, love.”

The sound of Tommy’s deep voice tears you away from the paperwork in your lap, a handful of important documents that require your signature - ostensibly, the only reason for your presence here tonight.

“I didn’t think they were ever going to leave.” You glance across the dimly lit office, towards the doorway through which Polly, Michael and Arthur have finally disappeared.

Like your hands, there’s an audible tremor to the words as they leave your painted lips. Business with the Shelby family often seems to be a drawn-out affair, with evenings like this proving to be a lesson in patience. What could have been a fifteen-minute meeting has stretched out into the early hours of the morning.

But finally, the two of you are alone.

Tommy offers you a cigarette across the desk, but you decline, choosing to watch instead as he lights his own. The brief glow of the flame illuminates the sharp angles of his face, his expression remaining calm. Neutral. It never fails to amaze you - the apparent ease with which he maintains the illusion of control.

“It’s killing you that much, eh? The anticipation?” The twitch of his jaw confirms your growing suspicion. He’s finding this amusing.

“It’s been hours, Tom.” You scowl, shifting in your seat and pressing your thighs together. A woman’s patience has its limits.

Tommy takes a long drag of his cigarette. When the smoke clears, his blue eyes are fixed on you. “And it will be worth the wait.”

“Is that a promise?”

The ghost of a grin flickers across his face, alarming in its rarity. He really should smile more often. Thomas Shelby has always been an undeniably handsome man, but when he smiles he is devastating.

“Are you going to sign them anytime soon?” He nods to the documents clutched in your hands. Right. Now he’s waiting on you.

Without hesitation, you reach over for his pen and hastily scrawl your name along the first dotted line.

It had been a curious twist of fate that had seen the Shelby family thrust back into your life almost twelve months ago. When your ailing uncle with no children of his own had granted you joint power of attorney over his growing liquor empire, you hadn’t expected to find yourself returning to your hometown of Birmingham, let alone landing directly in the path of your childhood best friend.

Six years had passed since the last time you had seen Tommy Shelby on the streets of Small Heath - six long years since the outbreak of The Great War. The conflict had irrevocably changed a lot of things; Tommy and his brothers were no exception, the horrors they had witnessed and wrought turning them into shadows - demons - of their former selves.

But when you first found yourself standing before Tommy in his shiny new office on Watery Lane, it quickly became apparent that no amount of time or turmoil could quell the stirring of desire that had begun to blossom between the two of you in the months prior to him leaving for France.

No distance could erase the mark his friendship had left on you, an invisible tattoo.

By all accounts, it was nothing short of a miracle that had brought the two of you back together, and if this was simply borrowed time, neither of you planned on letting it go to waste.

“All done,” you declare, dropping the paperwork onto the desk with a small smile.

Tommy gathers the documents towards him before leaning over to pluck the pen from your grasp, his fingers lingering for a beat too long against your own. As he swiftly countersigns the agreements, cigarette poised between his plump lips, your pulse quickens.

Hopefully, this is the last distraction of the evening.

With excruciating care and clearly testing the bounds of your patience, Tommy shuffles the paperwork, straightening the pages before sliding them into a leather bound folder and locking it away in his drawer.

“Now that business has been taken care of…” He rises slowly, extinguishing his cigarette in the expensive bronze ashtray. “...we can attend to more important matters.”

“What did you have in mind?” You fight to hide the excitement in your voice, equally resisting the urge to stare at his muscular thighs as he rounds the desk to stand before you, hands resting casually in his pockets.

You’d hate to give him any more satisfaction when you’re already confident he knows just what effect he’s having on you; the master of planning and strategy, indeed.

“That’s a pretty dress,” Tommy observes roughly, blue eyes dipping leisurely to the swell of your chest.

Before you can respond, he offers a hand to pull you to your feet and proceeds to twirl you around, gaining an even better view of the dress in question. It had been a calculated purchase on your part and so far, the expensive silk number seems to be well worth the investment.

Apparently pleased by every angle, Tommy stops you abruptly when your back is turned to him, silently stepping closer until you find yourself pressed up against his chest. A large hand lands on your waist, keeping you anchored against him - inescapable, not that you would ever want to try.

As he inclines his head to whisper into your ear, his warm breath tickles your cheek. “But I thought that I might take it off.”

Your own breath hitches, your blood turning to molten desire as the reality of his words sinks in. “I was hoping you would say that,” you admit as his other hand begins to trail a warm path from your wrist, up to your shoulder, eventually reaching the edge of your satin sleeve. Ever so gently, he tugs it down.

“Here?” You struggle to hide your surprise, biting your lip as his mouth brushes over your exposed skin. With privacy so important to the two of you, Tommy usually takes great care to ensure you won’t be disturbed - a suite at The Midland Hotel, or at least a locked bedroom. “What if they come back?”

“They won’t,” he mutters into the crook of your neck.

“But Polly-”

The sound of your name, murmured softly into the shell of your ear cuts you off, and it’s as if everything else simply stops.

Time stands still.

The fear of reproval should either family find out about the two of you fades away as Tommy’s capable fingers slide to the fastenings of your dress.

“We’ve waited long enough,” he reminds you.

Despite this, Tommy still takes his time undressing you; a small part of you is grateful. After all, you really like this outfit, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d destroyed articles of clothing in his haste to get the two of you naked. Buttons torn from blouses and shredded stockings, his passion in the bedroom more than matching the power of his machinations in the boardroom.

After helping you step out of the dress, he turns you around, lips parting as his eyes dance over every inch of your bare body. His pupils are blown wide with lust. Along with his quiet confidence, his reaction is more than enough to chase away any lingering doubt about being so exposed here in his office.

With his attention still focused firmly in your direction, his hands rise to the dark straps of his shoulder holster but you step forwards and take his hand, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“I’ll do it,” you tell him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Because two can most assuredly play at this game.

Tommy stands perfectly still as your fingers brush along the corded muscle of his biceps, sliding the leather straps of the holster over the sleeves of his crisp white cotton shirt before discarding the item on his desk.

One down…

A muscle in Tommy’s jaw ticks as you meet his eye again, before giving his waistcoat equally attentive treatment. You can feel the beat of his heart, pounding furiously within his chest. A thrill runs through you to know that your touch has this kind of effect on such a man.

Two down…

Once his waistcoat has fallen to the floor, you make a start on the buttons of his shirt, but Tommy growls, grabbing your wrists.

“Enough.”

It seems his patience has finally run out.

Without warning, he lurches forwards, sweeping the contents of his desk to the floor.

Before you can even begin to anticipate what comes next, he lifts you by the waist, depositing you unceremoniously onto the edge of the now-empty desk. You gasp as he swiftly parts your thighs, placing himself between them and pressing the hard length of his body into that sweet spot at your centre.

“Tommy,” you moan, shifting your hips in the pursuit of much needed friction.

Countering the rough and sudden behaviour of just moments earlier, Tommy releases your waist and his hands rise to cup your jaw, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he gently tilts your head towards him.

“No more waiting.”

He punctuates the command with a claiming kiss, the kind of kiss that ignites the smouldering desire beneath your bare skin until every cell in your body is keenly attuned to his presence, his own desire evident as you continue to rock against him.

“No more waiting,” you agree, muttering the words against his mouth without breaking the kiss, sharp teeth grazing his lips. At the same time, you reach for his belt buckle, fingers fumbling to free him from the confines of his slacks.

Once he’s stripped from the waist down with only his half-buttoned shirt still remaining, Tommy splays a hand across your lower back, the heat of him a burning brand against your sensitive skin. Meanwhile, you clutch his broad shoulders for support, readying yourself for what comes next.

With his other hand, he lines himself up against your core.

Tommy doesn’t waste another second - not another word - before he’s breaching your slick entrance, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust. His name is torn from your lips, this time in the form of a strangled cry, but he dips his head, quietening you with another kiss.

It’s a brief reprieve, though. Just long enough for you to relax around him, to catch your breath. Because he knows better than to be patient and gentle now - knows that, just like him, you enjoy the pressure. That you crave the burn as he stretches you to your limit and beyond, over and over again until you lose yourself to pleasure, until you find yourself hurtling towards your release.

In the amber light of the office - darker now since the lamp clattered to the floor - Tommy’s skin is flushed, his ocean blue eyes almost black. But not once does his intense gaze waver as he fucks you over the desk. Like he’s afraid that if he looks away you might vanish - that this might all have been a dream.

Overwhelmed by both his attention and the way he angles his hips to hit that sweet spot deep inside, you rapidly find yourself shattering around him.

As always, he doesn’t let you fall too hard, holding you close as you ride out the wave of your climax.

“I’ve been thinking,” Tommy grunts suddenly, his pace finally faltering as he smooths a strand of hair from your sweat-slick brow.

“Should I be worried?” you pant, struggling to focus on his words. The room is still spinning. You're drunk on him.

Ignoring your teasing question, he presses his lips against your breast, driving his hips deeper one final time as he spills inside you.

“I’ve finally woken up,” he rasps.

It’s so unlike Tommy to speak in riddles that you find yourself tensing beneath him. Roughly, you grab his face, forcing him to look at you. “What are you talking about, Tom?”

He stills, lowering his head until your brows are touching. There isn’t an inch of space between you and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You're the only person who knows me - who believes in me. In my worst times, you see the best in me. And even with my worst lies…you always see the truth in me.”

Concerned, you pull back from him. Clearly, his sex-addled brain is not functioning correctly. “Tommy, what are you-”

“I love you.”

Silence fills the room. It’s so unexpected, his admission, that you freeze. Imaginary walls fracture like glass around you.

When this thing between you and Tommy started up months ago, there had been an unspoken agreement that it could be nothing more than lust. An added benefit of your business transactions. Your family history, not to mention the relationship between your two companies, is far too complicated for anything more.

Love was never part of the deal.

But as much as you might want to believe that he’s simply not thinking straight - that he’s as intoxicated by your body as you are by his, you realise he is right. You see the hope - the truth - reflected back at you in those beautiful blue eyes.

Tommy Shelby has fallen in love with you.

Even if you wanted to, there's nothing you can do about it.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @that-sarcastic-writer @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #taylor swift #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #song fic

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acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

drinks on me

gn! reader x kamisato ayato

✧ cw: mild angst, hurt/a little comfort, mentions of alcohol, implied cheating, miscommunication

One shot.

“Forever…” his voice— so low that only you were able to hear him. His gaze lingered on you as he slowly slipped the wedding ring onto your finger.

“Forever,” you echoed, a small smile appearing.

Two shots.

You didn’t know what compelled you to wake up so late that night, but you found yourself unable to fall back asleep. You glanced over at the sleeping form of your beloved, the slow rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes.

You reached up and gently brushed a strand of his hair away, admiring your lover’s features. Your hand unconsciously cupped his cheeks, stroking it with your thumb.

The sharp and sudden chirp of a cricket outside startled you, and immediately you pulled back your hands. He stirred and you froze. A pair of startling blue eyes met your own. He blinked groggily, looking confused.

“Love?” he croaked out.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?”

He shook his head. “No. Why are you still awake at this hour?”

“I… I just woke up and now I can’t sleep.”

He hummed lightly and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in. You happily snuggled into his embrace, warmth quite literally radiating off of him. “Come here,” he mumbled, his words just barely coherent.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself when you felt him press a light kiss on top of your head. The arm wrapped around you slightly slackened as he dozed off once again.

You closed your eyes and took a slow deep breath, waiting for the whispers of sleep to whisk you away somewhere far.

Three, four, five shots.

“Not enough…” you mumbled to yourself, pouring another shot of alcohol into your cup. The bartender gave you a worried glance, yet no words were exchanged.

It was the second time this week.

The first time it happened, he’d left all too hurriedly in the morning without a single word exchanged with you. And when the sun dipped below the horizon, he still wasn’t home. That night you waited anxiously by the living room, waiting for him to come home.

But when the clock struck 1 in the morning, when sleep threatened to overtake you, when Thoma— unbeknownst to you, who was still awake, urged you to go to bed, was when you finally gave up waiting. Feeling defeated, you climbed onto your shared bed and pulled the blanket over you, eyes drifting closed already.

The next morning, he would act as if nothing had happened. You questioned him, yet each time he would change the subject— as if it was his second nature. In the end, you gave up.

“When the time comes,” he told you, his lips brushing against your cheek.

You held onto that hope.

The sixth shot was when you’d finally felt the alcohol taking effect. The feeling of dizziness kicking in as your vision begins to blur. You never had a high tolerance for alcohol, yet tonight, you chose to drink your sorrow away.

To drink until you forget everything.

A lipstick smudge.

You’d noticed it while helping the maids organize the laundry. You tried not to think too much about it, chalking up to the fact that one of those stupid nobles had tried to seduce him again. Your husband was smart. Smart and loyal. You knew it in your heart that he’ll never cheat.

Yet all the coming home late… the lingering scent of sake… it was all enough to plant the seeds of doubt deep in your mind.

He… couldn’t be cheating on you right? Were you not enough?

Seven.

By now your world had faded into a blur of vibrant colors. Voices confused and disoriented.

He came home late again.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, eyes watching as your lover hung his coat and set his keys down. Your figure, hidden by the darkness, went unnoticed by him— his shadow gliding pass you without sparing a single glance. You caught onto a familiar scent wavering in the air.

saku night co.

A relatively popular perfume brand trending in Inazuma. Despite the smell of sake mixing in with it, you could recognize that scent from anywhere. It was your husband's least favorite. Yet having that very same perfume he claimed to hate lingering on him… your grip tightened on the blanket.

“Did I do anything wrong?” your voice was small, whispering aloud so that only you can hear. “Was I the problem?”

A tear slipped.

“Did he ever love me?”

Too far drowned in your sorrows, you didn’t notice a familiar face taking a seat next to you.

“Hey…”

You couldn’t hear him, memories— ones that you’ve been drinking to forget, resurfacing in shattered fragments.

“Are you cheating on me?”

You’d finally gained the courage to confront Ayato about this behavior. Yet your voice still trembled.

For a moment he was silent, and you feared the worst. He looked up from his documents and stared at you, eyes that use to look at you with adoration, now cold.

“I’m not cheating on you,” he began. “I don’t know where you got that idea from, but I’m busy right now. Let’s save this conversation for another time.”

His voice was faraway. You hadn’t even fully register what he had said before your body moved on its own. By the time you snapped out of your trance, you were lying on your shared bed, tears still streaking your face.

A bed meant for two people.

Two people, yet it was always just you. When did this start happening? When did the two of you began drifting apart like this?

A slight nudge to your shoulders drew you back. Neon lights danced across your tear-streaked face. It felt as if even the world was taunting you.

“Look I’m sorry…” he said. “I was just stressed.”

You refuse to look at him.

Biting down on your lips anxiously, you watched as Ayato scribbles away on the stack of documents on his desk. You wanted to ask him again, but scared that you'll be shut down again, you didn't speak up. You could only watch in silence, heart heavy.

What happened to forever?

What happened to the sweet promises he made during your wedding ceremony? When the two of you had snuck away, when he had held you close to him...

"Please... just look at me," his voice, edging on desperation.

You remained silent.

"Look!" your voice was bright, breaking through the silence. "This bird looks like you, don't you think so? Ayato?"

On the palm of your hand sat a small blue bird, its feather ruffled. Ayato silently crept up behind you and snaked an arm around your waist, placing a small kiss on your cheek. The bird, spooked by his sudden behavior, chirped loudly— as if voicing its complaints, and flew away.

You gasped. "Ayato! You scared him away!"

"Did I?" he mumbled. "Maybe he was just too mesmerized by my beauty." There was a light tease to his voice.

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn't repress the smile slowly appearing. "Sure sure, Mr. Handsome."

You pushed yourself up from your stool, hands gripping onto the edge of the table to steady yourself. From the corner of your eyes, you saw him reach out.

"Go away," you muttered. "Cheater."

The box of lunch you grasped in your hands fell, it’s contents spilling.

“Nobody cheats even if they’re stressed,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “Nobody…”

Ayato was silent.

“You left me alone for days, weeks even,” you continued, the alcohol clouding your mind. “I thought you were just busy doing commissioner things, so I didn’t pry.”

“Ayato, what’s the meaning of this?” you asked, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

He was frantic, stuttering over his words. The women next to him scoffed and quickly gathered her things. You felt your heart drop when she hooked her arm over Ayato’s arm.

Ayato shook her off and reached out for you. But you were long gone by then, leaving nothing but the mess of a lunch on the floor.

“I don’t want to see you,” you whispered.

For once, the commissioner was at a loss for words. The cunning and clever Ayato, couldn’t formulate any words.

He knew what he did was wrong. Archons, what had gotten into his mind? What is wrong with him?

“Look, the stars are so bright tonight,” you pointed up at the glittering river of stars. “They’re so pretty…”

You were sitting along the edge of a cliff, right next to your lover. He gently smiled and ran his fingers through your hair. “They are very pretty tonight.”

Nights where the two of you could hang out like this was rare, seeing as how he was almost always drowning in paperwork.

You rested your head against his shoulder, the light breeze tugging at your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

His apologies meant nothing to you. You could only give him a pitiful look before gathering your things and leaving.

Ayato watched as your figure merged with the clusters of people under the rainbow lights. He didn’t try to stop you, he knew it was futile.

“Are you happy?”

The cold air was stinging against your cheeks, but you paid no heed to it. Tears threatened to fall again, but you hastily wiped them away.

“…”

There was no need to cry anymore.

The sky above rumbled, dark heavy clouds shadowing the moonlight. You came to a stop.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

The conversation you had with Yoimiya replayed in your mind.

“He makes me happy, that I know for sure. He gives me a sense of comfort— a sense of companionship I never really got to experience. Whenever I’m with him, I feel free, like the burdens that weight me down is gone.”

“And you still love him even after he… cheated?”

You laughed, a bitter taste in your mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

You hated him. You really do.

You hate how even though he neglected you for days, you still yearn for his touch. You hate how despite the fact that he cheated, you still long for his presence. You hate how this man captured your heart and locked it in a cage— and even when the lock had long rusted off, you still couldn’t bring yourself to fly free.

The rain had completely soaked through your jacket, yet you payed no mind to it. Thunder cracked and the lightning crashed, and for a moment, it elicited the world in a blinding flash of white.

Even the sky weeps for your broken heart.

The rain pattering down on you came to a halt, a image of a umbrella overshadowing you. You looked up, making eye to eye contact with your lover.

Can you even call him your lover anymore?

You immediately shifted your gaze and instead opted to stare at a sweet flower, who looked like it was going to snap in half.

“I’m… I’m really sorry,” he mumbled. “If you would just let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” you quietly asked.

Ayato took a seat next to you, not caring whether or not it’ll dirty his clothes. “Please, will you hear me out?”

“What’s there to explain?” you repeated.

He winced. “Love please.”

“…You have two minutes.”

He was speechless, hastily wiping at his lips. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Oh come on, you knew exactly why I did—”

“Stop,” he said. “If my relationship with my wife fails because of you, I’ll destroy your clan and wipe them off the face of Teyvat.”

Her face paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” his voice was low, taking on a threatening tone. The air seemed to have gotten colder.

“Why are you saying this when you kissed me?!”

“You. You kissed me,” Ayato hissed. He pointed a finger at her. “You, a lowly noble, attempting to seduce a married man— oh but not just any married man, but the head of the Kamisato. I’m sure all the reporters and journalists would have a field day with that information.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Almost in an instant, she was gone. Her stuff was a-strewn, left to collect dust in the private room of Komore Teahouse. Ayato sat down on the floor, face buried in his hands.

“I’m serious… I’ve just been so busy with work—” his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what to make of that information. Your mind was still processing everything that had happened, and the effects of alcohol that still lingered.

“I… I need to think…” you mumbled, slowly getting up. The world swayed with your movement.

Ayato quickly got up, and carefully guided you away from the cliff side. “Let’s get you home first,” he whispered. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Mmhm…” you didn’t try to protest against his touch, mind already shutting down. Perhaps you shouldn’t have drank that much.

He brought out the umbrella and held it over you. His arm hovered protectively over your waist. You stumbled and would’ve probably fell had Ayato not caught you in time.

“Careful there, do you me to carry you?”

“No.”

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, dark clouds finally parting way for the moon and the stars to peek through. From eastward, the glow of the sun had already begun to merge with the dark blue, coloring the entirety of the skies in a deep shade of orange and red.

Thoma was waiting frantically by the entrance of the estate, pacing around with his broom in hand. His eyes lit up at the sight of the two of you. “Oh my lord! There you are,” he breathed out. “Ah is that…?”

Ayato nodded. “Thoma, have you prepared their chamber?”

“Yes, yes it is. Should I bring her over?”

“No, I’ll do it myself. Thank you, Thoma.”

You were half-conscious, Ayato dragging you as gently as he can, across the estate. The sight was ridiculous, as you would say if you were sober. Ayato trying his very best to pick you up bridal style, yet each time you pushed him away and nearly collapsed on the floor. He felt that picking you up and bringing you to your room was the best option, but you seem to heavily disagree.

Ayaka watched from the corner, stifling a laugh.

“Brother, do you need my help?” her voice was quiet, a fluttering feeling to it.

“No— ah wait love, not that way,” Ayato steered you away from the closet. “I’ll do it myself. It’s the least I can do.”

Ayaka dipped her head. “I’ll leave you to it. They’re really angry at you, by the way.”

“I’m aware,” he whispered.

After what felt like forever, he has you finally tucked in your bed, layers upon layers of quilts covering you. By then, you had completely fell asleep.

He pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” he muttered softly.

I promise.

✩ ·┆ masterlist

a/n: have this short drabble while i continue to work on [resurface, my love] 👯‍♀️ I might do a part two where Ayato makes it up to you 🙏

#[💫] acaaai-t #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kamisato ayato #genshin ayato #ayato x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin #genshin fanfic #ayato genshin impact #genshin impact ayato

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xoxoavenger · 5 months

Text

I Can't Imagine

pairing: Michael Gray x Fem!Reader

summary: Michael and Y/N have a fight, one that seems like the most important thing until the Shelbys are served a black hand.

word count: 4549

warnings: canon typical injuries, canon typical gang violence, major character death (cannon, not michael or reader)

12 Days of Christmas main masterlist

"3-5-5 Small Heath," Y/N said into the telephone, playing with the ring on her left hand. Michael had proposed not even a week ago, she had moved in not even a week ago, and yet he had only been home when she was going to sleep about two times. It made Y/N livid, and she wasn't going to stand for it. It was almost Christmas, for Christ's sake.

"Shelby Company Limited," Michael answered, and Y/N sighed.

"Mr. Gray," Y/N spoke, listening to Michael's quick intake of breath.

"Y/N," He greeted back, his voice static over the phone. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" He asked, obviously pulling out the pocket watch and looking at the time.

"Aren't you supposed to be home?" She shot back, leaning against the desk he had at home.

"I'll be there soon. I promise." His words made Y/N want to scream, because she knew she wouldn't see him until the morning.

"Why don't you tell Tommy Shelby that your wife wants you home." She spoke angrily, closing her eyes in annoyance.

"You aren't my wife." Michael shot back quickly, making Y/N take in a sharp breath. She thought about saying something snarky back, thought about going to the office in Japanese silk - and idea she had overheard Polly and Esme talking about.

Instead she angrily hung up the phone on Michael's quick apologies.

She hadn't fallen asleep but when she heard the door downstairs shut, she closed her eyes and pretended. She heard Michael come into the bedroom, heard his sigh as he took off his jacket and shoes, the clink of metal from his cuff links, the ruffle of cotton as he took off his shirt and then pants, leaving him only in his undershirt. He walked to the bed, gently laying down on his side before he put an arm around Y/N and pulling her close. She didn't snuggle closer like she would have normally, but instead stayed rigid and faced away from him.

"I know you're awake." Michael muttered into her shoulder, kissing the bare skin her night gown provided.

"Do you not understand why I would pretend?" She whispered, trying to ignore the flutter in her heart as he moved closer to her body, the hand that was around her waist feeling around to grab her hand.

"No," Michael's voice was soft and quiet, much different than it had been over the phone.

"Liar." She let go of his hand and rolled away slightly, onto her stomach, making it harder for him to cuddle her.

"Y/N," Michael said, leaning up in bed. Y/N closed her eyes, as if she could fool him now. "Y/N, please. I don't want to go to bed while we're fighting." He reached out for her again, and she pushed him off.

"We can stop fighting when you come home at a reasonable time." She told him, still not facing him.

"I'm doing important work." Michael said as he rolled onto his back.

"For Tommy Shelby? The man who put you on a noose?" She finally moved to her side to face him, barely able to see him in the dull light.

"He's the one who got me off the noose." Michael fired back, making her roll her eyes.

"You wouldn't have been on the noose if it weren't for Tommy!" She was yelling now, and Michael sat up. They had fought before, sure, but she never brought up the time he had almost died. It seemed she was saving it for a rainy day.

"We wouldn't have met if I didn't work for him." It was true; Y/N and Lizzie had worked together, so when Thomas had brought Michael around for some fun Y/N was the one who gave it to him. Michael quickly became a regular, and soon she was payed handsomely and told that she wouldn't need to see anyone else - it wasn't long before her and Michael were official and she learned the Shelby ways.

"Well, what would I know? I'm not your wife, after all." She turned over silently, closing her eyes for the final time that night.

She woke up when Michael had gotten out of bed, kissing her forehead as he stood up and then again when he left. She wasn't going back to sleep, so after she knew he was gone she got up and got ready herself. She did a couple chores around the house that the maid didn't do, like cleaning Michael's office and their room. It had been quite awhile when she collected the mail. She went through it, not opening much because it was for Michael. She did pause on the last one, which was sent from New York. America.

"What the hell?" Y/N muttered, putting the other mail down and going into Michael's office for the letter cutter. She opened a couple drawers before she found it, rummaging around and almost cutting her finger on it. She opened the envelope to a card, the content of which was a black hand.

What was that supposed to mean?

She shoved the card back into the envelope, heart racing. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

She grabbed the telephone, pressing the small button twice before she was connected.

"3-5-5 Small Heath," Y/N waited to be connected, leaning on the desk and looking at the envelope once more. She didn't fully recognize the name, even if it did seem familiar, but she had never been to America, so she didn't know where it was anyway.

"Hello," Well that was not Michael.

"Tommy Shelby," Y/N said with malice. She hated Tommy for what he did to Michael, to his own flesh and blood. He was a slimy man, and Y/N refused to put up with him.

"Y/N," Tommy greeted her back, and Y/N just sighed.

"Where's Michael?" She asked before he could say anything else. She didn't want to listen to the leader of the Shelby clan; in fact, she would rather never think of the man again.

"He's on his way to Polly's right now. Had to give him a couple pointers on how to get her back to being Poll." Y/N sighed - she knew that Michael's mum wasn't doing well; her time in prison and in the noose had effected her badly, and Y/N and Michael went to visit her at least once a week. She was surprised that Michael went without her this time, especially because he hadn't even told her.

"Did you tell him to go see her? Because you can't fix problems on your own?" She wondered, brows furrowed and her face hurting from it's frown.

"This problem is better suited for Michael." Tommy told her, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Well, it is a problem that you created, furthering my point." Y/N shot back, trying to keep herself from crinkling the envelope in her hand.

"Did you need something?" Tommy asked through a sigh. Y/N took a deep breath - they were practically family now, and Michael respected him. Although she would never respect Thomas Shelby, she would try to act civil.

"I just got a letter in the mail. From America." The line was silent, and she thought it was disconnected for a second until she heard Thomas breathing. "It's from an Italian name. The card was just a black hand." She told him. She hadn't even finished talking before Tommy was swearing.

"Pack a bag and bring some stuff for Michael. We all need to be in Small Heath." He told her, which made her even more pissed.

"We got this house so that we wouldn't have to live in Small Heath." She hoped Tommy could hear her annoyance, could hear her wanting to punch him multiple times.

"I know, but this is the Mafia. The Changretta's are coming after us." He told her quickly, and she heard rustling paper on the other line. Y/N's eyes widened. She didn't work for the Shelby Company Limited, but Michael practically told her everything that Polly, Lizzie and Esme didn't. She knew that Arthur had killed Mr. Changretta, the name she now recognized on the envelope, and she knew that the Mafia was bad news.

"Fuck," She whispered, staring at the envelope. The envelope that was addressed to their house. "They know where we live," She thought aloud, everything coming crashing down.

"Yes, which is why we need to get to Small Heath."

"Well then," Y/N sighed, setting the envelope down. "Guess we'll all be together for Christmas after all, Tommy."

"I'll be back soon, I promise. I have to go get John." Michael told her as they put their bags into one of the upstairs rooms.

"I'm coming with you," Y/N told him. By now it was early in the morning, the sun rising on Christmas. They hadn't slept, both of them worried about the anvil that seemed to loom over the Shelbys.

"No, Y/N, you aren't. If John was served a black hand they know where he lives too, and I don't want you to get hurt." Michael told her, taking his gun out of the holster, checking it, and putting it back in.

"Well, I don't want you getting hurt." Y/N fired back, raising her chin as they stared down at each other. Michael knew he didn't have time for this, so the best he could do was hope the mafia hadn't gotten to John's yet.

"Fine. But you stay next to me at all times and do exactly as I say alright?" He agreed, opening the door of the room for her before leading her down the stairs and out of the house, right to their car.

"Of course, Michael." She smiled as he helped her in, sliding all the way to the passenger side. "I know you can protect me." She put a hand on his thigh as he started the car and watched as his face heated with blush. He turned to kiss her quickly before pulling out onto the road.

"So," Michael started as he began driving out of the small town. Y/N turned to look at him. "I didn't mean what I said on the phone the other night." Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned against her door, sighing. Part of her wanted to forget about their fight.

"I don't believe that." She said quietly, waiting for him to either shut up or lash out.

"I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't feel that way." He told her sincerely, turning out into the country roads. "I wouldn't have proposed if I didn't want you to be my wife."

"It still hurts! I was just asking for you to be home and you decided to use my feelings against me." She shot back, heart racing. She didn't like fighting with Michael, but she also didn't like when he treated her like that.

"Your feelings? I was speaking the truth." Michael told her, and she shook her head, looking out the window.

"You clearly do not understand, so let's talk about it later." She told him, effectively ending the fight. They were almost to John's house anyway. They were even on his road when a slow horse pulling hay practically stopped them.

"Come on!" Michael shouted, hitting the steering wheel. It was obvious he was stressed, and Y/N hoped she was hiding her own emotions. John had kids and a wife, he had a family. She hoped he was fine. "Move!" Michael shouted, causing her to jump slightly as he hit the horn. The man with the hay eventually did move, and Michael quickly swerved around the trailer, making his way all the way to John's.

Once they pulled in behind John's car, Y/N went to open her door. "Stay in the car." Michael told her, hopping out.

"No! I'm not leaving your side, remember," She was still pissed, so even if she had made an opposite promise she wouldn't have stayed in the car. She practically had to jog to keep up with Michael, resisting the urge to grab his arm as they walked through the driveway. The two walked around the side, going through the gate before they heard a shotgun reloading.

"Oh, fuck, it's you two." John said as he came out of his small hiding hole, putting down his gun. "Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning?" John asked, looking down at them. Michael grabbed Y/N's hand, holding it tightly. She let it happen, because she needed some strength to get back to Small Heath.

"Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's yard now. Come on," Michael dipped his head toward the cars, speaking quickly to show his urgency.

"Get in. Get in!" John yelled at the dogs, who walked back through the door right as John shut it. He jumped down from the ledge, leading Y/N and Michael to the front of the house. "Nice to see you, Y/N." John tipped his head to her as they walked, and Y/N just smiled. She hadn't seen the Shelby brothers since Thomas had sent them to the gallows, and she had to say that she regretted it. John had always been nice to her, even if they didn't talk much.

"Is Esme here?" Y/N asked, knowing it was a stupid question. Even if Esme hadn't been one of Y/N's closest friends, it was Christmas Day. Of course Esme was at home.

"Of course she is. It's fucking Christmas Day. What does Tommy want, a fucking family reunion?" John asked, turning onto the patio.

"Look, John, we don't have time for this." Michael said, clearly getting more and more stressed just by being there.

"Alright, come into the house," John spoke just as Michael was finishing, "Just come to the meeting."

"Come on, John," Y/N begged as they walked up to the door.

"Have some food." John continued to ignore them, opening the door. Just as he did, Esme came running out. Instead of going toward Y/N like they all thought she would, she walked straight up to Michael.

"Tell Tommy Shelby we can look after ourselves." She seethed, making Y/N sigh.

"Tommy says they could come for us today." Michael spoke, but Esme was taunting him before he had even finished.

"'Tommy says, Tommy says'. Are you his fucking parrot?" She yelled. Y/N grabbed her arm, turning her toward herself.

"It's the Mafia, Esme! The New York fucking Mafia!" She watched Esme just shake her head, and Y/N's heart sunk. She had to get through to them.

"And we're the Peaky fucking Blinders." John said, gun still slung over his shoulder.

"No, we're not, John. We're not the Peaky fucking Blinders unless we're together." Michael told them, obviously losing his patience.

"You were together on the gallows, with one man missing." Esme turned back to Michael, getting into his face in rage.

"Esme, I know you're upset because trust me, I am too. But in the city we have more protection, more people. We can't risk death just because of a stupid man like Tommy." Y/N tried, but Esme wasn't listening. "Just come to the meeting, at least. Think about the kids." Y/N took her hand from Michael and put it on Esme's shoulder now, and everyone turned slightly at a slight noiseto see the hay horse that Michael had passed on the way passing by the house.

"If you want to leave after, that's fine. Just come with us." Michael begged, and Esme turned her head back.

"No. It's Christmas Day. We're the family now. We're staying at home." She got closer to Michael and Y/N pushed her back slightly, not wanting a fight to break out.

"Get in the fucking house!" John shouted as he loaded his gun. Y/N looked over to see men jumping out of the hay, guns firing. Esme began to run, grabbing Y/N and forcing her to follow into the house. She heard the deafening gunshots, and her heart began to pump faster.

"Michael!" She yelled, reaching out for him. He pushed her away, and Y/N stumbled as Esme dragged her. She couldn't catch herself in time, her knees hitting the concrete just before her her head smacked. She hit hard, jarring her. She could hear the guns and screaming and she knew Esme was now yelling at her, pulling her further toward the house by her under arms. She blinked quickly, trying to regain her senses. Her jaw, cheekbone and eye socket screamed in pain, and she groaned as Esme let her fall. She turned to sit up, head rolling as she took in the scene in front of her. Esme was screaming, holding John close to her. She felt her heart race as she realized there was blood staining John's white shirt. She looked over to see Michael, on the ground.

Y/N's heart plummeted.

"Michael," She groaned, pushing herself to stand. Esme's screams were piercing, and Y/N could barely focus. Everything was blurry, and she wasn't sure if it was because of her head or the fact that she was sobbing uncontrollably. She could barely see as she stumbled around, falling to her knees when she was close enough to Michael. The pain shot all the way up her legs and down to her toes, and she felt bile rise in her throat as a surge of pain when through her head.

"Call someone! John!" Esme screamed as Y/N reached for Michael. She used her might to pull him over, trying to figure out how much he was shot.

"Oh God," Y/N retched, turning her head to throw up. Blackness was consuming her, and her head become fuzzy as she fell right next to Michael, still trying to grab him. He shakily grabbed her hand as she dropped her head to his shoulder, feeling him move around in pain.

"Y/N," He groaned. She lifted her head, realizing her face was now wet from tears.

"Michael, oh my," Y/N's throat was tight, her breath was heaving in and out. More bile was rising to her throat from the pain and the horror of seeing the Shelbys being shot. She turned again, letting go of his hand and throwing up. It felt like her heart had just stopped beating, that her insides had knotted together and her throat was swelling. The right side of her face throbbed, and she just wanted to go home.

One of the kids must have heard Esme, because soon enough an ambulance was pulling into the front yard.

"Help!" Esme screamed, and Y/N turned her head to see four men get out of the ambulance. Two went to John, and two came to Michael.

"Please move so we can help him, miss." A man said, gently pushing her back. When she looked up at him, his eyes widened. Y/N wasn't sure why he was looking at her like that, so she moved back to Michael's side. He was breathing still, but it was pained and his eyes were closed.

"He's gone," Another man said as he came up to Y/N and Michael. Esme's screams were louder, and Y/N felt her heart sink; John was dead.

"We need to get these two to a hospital." The first man said, nodding toward the car. The two men who had been looking at John first left, and Y/N turned to see them going to the car to grab out a stretcher.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Y/N asked, tears in her eyes. She didn't want to lose Michael. She didn't want to be left alone.

Oh God, and they had just fought, too.

"We'll try our best." The man nodded. Y/N tried to calm her breathing, because it was hurting her face, but she couldn't.

The men came out with a stretcher, helping Michael onto it. He groaned out, and Y/N winced they picked him up and took him into the car.

"Why don't you come with us, miss? We need to check out your head." A man held his arm out to her. Y/N looked over to see the other man talking to Esme, who was still screaming and crying.

"My head?" She asked as she grabbed the man's arm. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion - she could only see flashes, like one second she was on the patio and the next she was in the front of the ambulance. The man was asking questions, but Y/N wasn't answering. She could barely hear his words. When she went to lay against the door, her head so fuzzy her eyes were closing, she was instantly brought back to the present. Pain surged all the way across her face, practically rattling her teeth. She jarred awake, blinking quickly.

"Are you alright?" The man driving asked, and Y/N sat up, looking around. They were at the hospital in Small Heath, and she jumped out when they stopped. She stumbled, however, falling to the ground and scraping her hands, her knees crying out. She let out a gasp in pain, about to get up when someone grabbed her and helped her up.

Thomas Shelby.

"You," Y/N seethed, seeing red as he looked at her.

"Y/N, what happened?" Tommy asked. This was one of the only times Y/N had ever seen Tommy afraid, and it made her even more mad.

"What happened?" She repeated, grabbing his biceps as he pulled her up. "What happened was you, Thomas Shelby! What happened was you can never inflate your own ego enough!" She screamed, tears falling out of her eyes as she hit him. She clawed at his face, smacking his chest with open hands and fists. She was angry and upset and tired and hurt and she was taking it all out on him.

"Y/N, please," He begged, grabbing her arms. They were locked like that when the men pulled Michael out, who was groaning in pain, eyes squeezed shut.

"Michael," Y/N muttered going to her fiancé. Tommy grabbed her however, which caused her to hit his arm in an attempt to make him let go. His grip was unwavering, and when he pulled her into him she realized she was screaming, face pressed against his suit. When she finally stopped screaming, her head pressed against Tommy's chest as he cradled her head, she heard Esme's horrified cries.

"No," Tommy said, his grip tightening on Y/N as he realized why Esme was screaming. "No, please," He was begging, and all Y/N could do was cry and lash out.

"He's dead!" She cried as she pushed Tommy away, her head spinning as he let go of her, numb. "And now Michael," Her voice was breathy and she was stumbling, not able to hold herself up.

"They're going to take care of Michael," Tommy promised, shooting a hand out to steady her as she began to fall to the ground. "Are you alright?" He asked, but then she began to lose her balance even more, bringing him down on the muddy ground with her.

"I need to see Michael." She said her breathing getting more labored. Tommy helped her lean against him so her head didn't hit the mud, using the opportunity to examine her bruise.

"He's going to be okay. We need to get you in, your face," He trailed off, not sure how to describe it. Her jaw and cheekbone were swollen, and although she probably hadn't noticed her eye was also almost swollen shut.

"Michael," She breathed, and Tommy's thoughts jumped to the fact that if he were to marry again, this would be the kind of girl he didn't want; one who didn't even care that half her face was smashed in because he was shot.

"Y/N, come on," Tommy tried to pull her up, but she was practically dead weight.

"Fuck you, Tommy." She muttered out, grabbing his jacket. She was shaking, and Tommy was worried about her. "Fuck you." Her eyes were closing, her grip loosening.

"I need help!" Tommy yelled, watching a couple men come out of the building.

"I hate you, Thomas!" Her voice croaked. It wasn't louder than her breathing, and her voice was cracking.

"How did you hit your head?" He asked, moving her hair out of her face and using the hand on the back of her neck to move her head and see the extent of her bruise.

"Get the fuck off me!" She hit him, but it was more of a tap. "Let go of me," She rolled over and onto the mud, coughing as if she were going to throw up. It took Tommy a couple seconds too long to realize she really was dry heaving. The two men had come over to her, grabbing her arms and picking her up to take her into the hospital.

"Make sure she gets the bed next to Michael Gray." Tommy said as he got up, pretending like he hadn't noticed the mud caked into his pants.

"Thomas Shelby is a coward!" Y/N yelled weakly as she was carried in. "He's a coward and he will do anything for his own gain. Even kill his own family!" And he hated to admit to himself that it was true.

"Why aren't you laying with me?" Y/N woke up to Michael's voice behind her. She had been laying towards the wall, because she didn't like sleeping on her back and she couldn't put pressure on the right side of her face. She sat up to turn, and she knew when Michael as realized the bruise. She realized belatedly that she couldn't open her eye all the way, and that her head was throbbing in pain.

"You were shot," She muttered, sitting up all the way and pushing off her bed. Her dressing gown fell short, much before her knees, her feet completely bare. Her cheeks heated as she realized someone would have had to undress her, and she hoped it was Ada or - more likely - Polly.

"Yes," His voice was gravelly, but he seemed awake, and she wondered how long he had been awake. "My mum came by, she said to tell you she was the one who undressed you. That she fought with physicians to get them away from you." Michael was reaching for her now, and she moved to grab his hand, letting him pull her close and arrange her so that they could lay together.

"When I saw you on the ground - oh God, Michael." Her breaths were short, and although his eyes were closed he was rubbing her back. "I was so afraid you were dead. Before we even got married." He let out a small breath of laughter, still not opening his eyes.

"I can't imagine how Esme feels." He muttered, making Y/N's heart drop.

"I'm sure Tommy is getting a good picture." She said, thinking back to when she had gone crazy as Michael was taken into the hospital.

"He told me about your episode." Michael said softly, and she just closed her eyes. It was embarrassing to think about the way she had screamed at him the way she had thrown a fit outside the hospital and completely collapsed.

"I thought you were dead." She whispered, eyes closed for fear of what he would say.

"If I were you, I probably would have given Tommy a new scar." Michael rubbed her back a couple more times before they settled into bed to sleep.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler

#michael gray #michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader

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twistedbloodstain · 1 year

Text

vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: i made you my temple, my mural, my sky now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. | the marquis wants more of what meets the eye.

plot: the one where the marquis has had enough of just a glimpse.

warning: unrequited?,vincent is down bad af, boss-assistant relationship

masterlist

your cries of pain are so soft but so loud in his ears. stupid, stupid girl. what have you done? it frightens him to see you so…helpless. he tries to soothe you from it but to no avail, he can feel the warm thick blood from your torso dripping on his trousers.

but what petrifies him to the bone was your silence. the moment you flutter your eyes shut and the whimpers of pain from your lips dwindle down makes his blood run cold.

what happened next was a blur for him but all he can remember was holding your hand as thomas drove through the thick of the city to bring you to safety. why had you done that? he clasps your hand even tighter when he can feel you take a sharp breath every now and then. it makes him hope. it makes him pray to any god out there to let you live. please…not her..not her. not when she did that for me. not when she just took a bullet for me, it cannot be. he doesn’t know why, but he does. he’ll beg on his knees to every god out there if it meant seeing you safe and alive.

when you're taken from his arms and placed on a stretcher, he can only stand in shock. it still doesn’t make sense to him, were you…not what he thought you were? no, no she was just in the way of it. she probably cursed me to death when she got shot. but she hadn’t said anything, and the way she looked at me. god it was full of fear and dread, she had gripped on him when he’d taken her to his arms, and it was full of the fight left inside her. the way she latched her hand on his wrist felt like the way you would grip a rosary for a prayer to god, he wonders to himself.

the marquis stands still in front of the door. behind the door, are skillful medical professionals working to keep you alive but it doesn’t feel enough. he feels fear pool into his stomach. what if she doesn’t recover? what if she doesn’t live through the night? what if she dies? what would he do?

his mouth sews shut and his throat goes dry. she’ll live. she has to, the marquis reassures himself. he cannot bear the thought of you gone, of you dead on a medical table all because of him.

the gods had been gracious. why? because right now, he’s sitting beside the bedside table on which he has his preferred drink; a pitcher of lemon water. other than that there’s the matter of you.

there you are in the least of your glory. tucked beneath the silk sheets in one of the guest rooms of his estate and your head laid on the large wooly pillows. the doctor managed to stabilize the wound on your torso.

“thankfully, the bullet hadn’t hit any vital organs, the main concern we focused on was the excessive bleeding from it.” the doctor explains to him. there are more he says to him, but he never hears the end of it. all he could focus on was you. your eyes still shut but your breathing was steady, he could hear the beeping of the vitals sign monitor as he gazed at you.

you looked so…innocent. as if you weren’t recovering from an injury but merely sleeping. your guard was down and you seemed so calm. something he never witnessed while you worked for him, not that he’s ungrateful for it but you always seemed rigid and always expected something bad to be thrown on your face all the time, to see you so relaxed and serene felt like a gift.

it felt like a privilege from the gods. oh they truly had been gracious enough to give this sight to him.

he wondered if he would see more of this once you woke up. he hopes he does, your sweet angelic face that was always nervous and alert was more delightful to see when you were peaceful. he wonders what your smile would be like, how the corner of your lips would curve when you were amused from something he said, you’d often hid it from him trying to remain professional when a you heard a jape from someone.

he wonders what your sweet laugh would sound like. that would be lovely to hear. how it could sound like music to his ears when it came from you, how precious it would be just to hear it once. he would be honored if you were ever to bestow that gift to him. lastly, he wonders how to make you happy. how to make you pleased whenever you see him, not that composed structure you give him when you greet him in the morning but something genuine. he wants to tear down the walls you’ve built in front of him so he can see you. what you’re truly like.

now, you’ve shown a glimpse of it to him. he wants more, he prays that when you wake up, you won't shut him out again. when you wake up don’t shove him out of what you’re like. when you wake up don’t hide what you feel for him, not from him, don’t hide it from him. don’t wake him up just to realize it was all a dream. a fantasy he thought that came to its reality. you’re many things but cruelty is not one of them. so don’t break him, for god’s sake don’t.

“how long until she awakens?” he interrupts the doctor in the middle of his talk, surprisingly still going on.

“i’d give it two to three weeks, sir. if her vitals remain stable.” the doctor answers dutifully,

he hums before replying, “you can go.”

the doctor nods and bows his head a little then obediently obeys his command. right now, it’s just you, him and that monitor.

he stares at your face in uncertainty, two weeks. before it was something that seemed short enough for him but right now it felt like a century. he wanted to speak to you, to talk to you. he had so many questions for you, why you’d taken a bullet from him. if you wanted to resign from your job. why you made him feel like this.

like a lovesick fool.

as if that wasn’t painful enough, the answers he wanted to hear cannot be said. it felt like you told him you loved him then fled, although unintentionally it’s not like you intentionally got yourself shot to avoid confrontation from him…did you?

he shakes that thought out of his mind, the truth can only be provided through you. who is unable to answer that for at least two weeks, it was itching him to know, to know what you’ve done to him. what magic or skill you’ve done to make him latch onto you like a bug.

most of all he wants to know where does that leave the both of you. he wishes you don’t flee from him, that you’ll take him for what he is and more. he doesn’t think he can handle the idea of you out of his reach. out of safety, the only comfort you can only seek in this world is from him.

albeit, ironic considering you’re passed out on a bed because of a bullet meant for him. but when you wake up, he’ll promise. he’ll swear to you, that nothing, nothing would ever get to you ever again. he would protect you with all his power and control over the country just to see you sheltered from harm. what good is his power if he can’t use it to protect you from his enemies? anyone that fucks with you, fucks with me mon amour. i promise. he promises to you and to himself.

he remembers a painting he saw in the louvre. the death of alcestis. a tale about how alcestis willingly dies in place of her husband, admetus. at first, he’d thought the pair, alcestis and admetus were a bunch of fools. why would you eagerly die for someone? if you truly cared for your wife why had you let her die in your place? that’s not love, it’s simply tragedy. not that he has much experience on that matter but he never understood it.

the evening he starts to understand,. alcestis dies for her husband because of love, because she cannot bear the pain of her love absent in this world. she cannot live without her lover. did you think the same when you took a bullet for him? did you think that no pain could compare if he were dead? although for admetus, he could not find a defense for him, ironically he is the admetus to your alcestis but he swears. he swears that will never be the case ever again.

he’ll bring you back from the dead if it meant he would die in your place.

the guilt surges into his guts, mixing with the pool of fear that rushed into his veins last night. he feels sorry, for his failure, for himself but most especially for you. he feels miserable that he’d failed you, that because of him you got hurt.

it’ll never happen again. i won’t let it happen again. he vows to himself. he has to, for your sake and his.

as he stands up to leave, he goes to your bed and gazes into your face once more. he lowers himself to your frame, setting himself on the edge of the bed. you make no sign of disturbance from his movement, still heavily asleep. he takes your hand and strokes the back of it, lovingly.

“i have to go mon amour, but i’ll be back. i’ll be here when you wake up, i’ll be the first person you’ll see the same way i was the last person you saw.” he whispers to your dozing face, he ponders if you could hear him. likely not, but it doesn’t hurt to wonder.

he leans forward and slowly presses a soft kiss to your temple. gentle and nothing harsh, meant to convey his care with how fragile you were right now. he lets his lips linger on the softness of your temple, relishing on the mellow texture of your skin. he wants to stay here, with you. just the two of you like it always was for the past two years, he should’ve urged you to come sit with him in the car on the way to meetings, should’ve spoken to you every chance he had and he should’ve confessed how he felt towards you. no point mourning time that has been spent, even if it meant years that were wasted.

when he pulls away from you it feels like a force urged him to stay and he hopes he could but he can’t. he has a lifetime for that now, and so do you. he lifts your hand to his lips then slowly kisses your wrist, also lingering so long but seems so short for the marquis.

he leisurely stands up, keeping his eyes on your face. he strides towards the door then takes one last glance before opening the door. i’ll be back and she’ll still be safe. i’ll only be gone for only a few hours, he murmurs to himself.

he opens the door and sees a pair of guards by your door, they stand straight and acknowledge him by nodding their head. he sees thomas walking up to him, likely bearing news.

“sir, we’ve carefully taken them. they’re chained up at the edge of the city, we go at your order.” thomas informs him diligently. the marquis simply nods his head, a gesture of affirmation. he turns his head to the pair guarding your room.

“make sure to call for me, the moment she wakes up and keep her here until i say otherwise. understood?” he sternly instructs with the cold tone they’ve known for years. the pair answer obediently with compliance.

the marquis leaves them then walks through the hall towards the exit of the manor with thomas trailing behind him, it was odd to no longer hear the clicking of your heels behind him but right now he had other concerns.

it was time to make the people who hurt you, pay for what they’ve done.

when the news reaches his ears, he’s astounded. almost three weeks after your operation, you were finally awake. it delights him, to finally know you were safe and awake. he immediately stands up from his chair and walks out of his office.

he was overjoyed with what he just heard, although he did everything in his power to not let it show on his face as he trudged through the halls of the manor. the dread and fear was gone, in its stead it was bliss and happiness, he felt lighthearted knowing that the threat of losing you from death was finally extinguished.

two weeks after the incident and you still haven’t woken from your slumber, it had angered him. so he had taken it out on the doctor responsible for your recovery, he had pierced his hand with a knife and his assistant nurse had to help him pry the knife from his hand, from what he heard. it can be said that it was an overreaction and ever since that occurrence everyone walked on eggshells around him.

now it was gone, he felt relieved to know that you’re awake but as he neared your room, he heard a door close, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. soon after, he saw adeline, the senior housekeeper coming from the other direction he was headed. the housekeeper stopped on her feet and acknowledged him by lightly bowing her head. he wondered if adeline just visited your room, it was probable to happen considering she had been one of his spies during his “venture of getting to know you”. he shakes that thought, it wasn’t important but a mysterious feeling remained in his stomach.

when he saw thomas and another of this men guarding your door, he saw the doctor and nurse nearing your door. the doctor greeted him but he made no effort to do the same. the moment he enters through the door he sees you.

awake. alive. safe

he swears his heart could burst just by the sight of you.

he stays silent the entire exchange between you and the medics. he sat on another of the chairs, lounging and waiting for it to end so he way share a word with you. he notices the way you flinch while they rebandage your wound.

he wants to kill that entire family all over again, just for the way you flinch right now.

when the pair of medical professionals leave he gazes at you. it takes all his strength to keep his composure calm and professional when all he wants to do is take you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

he speaks the first word for the both of you, simple courtesies. how were you feeling and the situation of your injury, nothing important. you thank him for the measures he’s done for you to keep you alive. i’ve done more and i’ll do it all over again. he wants to say but doesn’t.

what makes his brain suddenly stop functioning for a moment was when you ask when you tell him you need to go home.

you are home. can’t you see? can’t you see?! he wants to tell you.

it was starting to happen. he was starting to lose you when he just had you. he walks towards the window and faces away from you, trying to remain composure.

“sir?” you call out to him.

i can’t let you leave. i cannot bear the thought of it, i felt like i was being torn apart alive knowing you almost died because of me. how much more knowing you’re alive but not within my reach? don’t be cruel, mon coeur. don’t do this.

“is there something wrong with what i said?” you innocently question to him.

“you cannot.” he finally spits out.

you’re shoving me away just like what i feared. but why? i’ve done good things and unspeakable things for you, you can’t simply abandon me like this. not when you’ve made me feel alive and loved.

“why? is there something wrong with me?” you worried ask him, “sir?” you add when he doesn’t reply to you.

“it’s not…safe.” he states to you, finally facing you. he stares at you, if it was a gift to watch you asleep, it was a pleasure to see you awake again.

“for…who? for you or for them?” you frown, trying to deduce everything he’s said to you.

“it’s not safe for you.” he finally clears it out, glad to have gotten rid of it.

your mouth falls open, “what? it’s you they were aiming for, not me. they wanted to kill you. it was you they wanted to shoot. you were the target. i honestly don’t think they’d go after the assistant to finish the job. right?” you begin to ramble.

tell me something i don’t know, my dear. i’m reminded of that every night i sleep and every breath i draw from this world. no need to rub that in, but i’ve made amends. you have nothing to worry about.

“yes, you’re right. they wouldn’t.” he disclosed to you, “i know that bullet was intended for me, the man was supposed to shoot me. god knows i know.” he whispers.

“and look what happened to you. what they..did to you.” he says as he slowly walks towards you. “you…you weren’t supposed to get hurt. i don’t think i can forgive myself for that.” he says softly as he looks back at you.

suddenly, everything finally sets into your head. he can see your eyes widen while he gazes into your face. the urge to hold you close and kiss you like a starved man to death was strong. especially, right now when you’ve realized the weight of his words.

he doesn’t need to say it out loud that he cares and loves you. when the words he said hinted at what he means to say and the actions he’s done spoke better than his words could ever say but he still tries. he knows that you already know but he wants to make sure.

“you’re right. it was meant for me, but you had it instead. you…you took a bullet for me. who does that for someone? how many people in the world can say that they’ve taken a bullet for me? one. there’s only one. and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

the heaviness on his shoulders feels lighter now, he’s finally said the words however merely a fragment of what he truly feels but he has his entire life to say all of them, he’s in no rush to say his love to her right now. he has his entire life to love her.

“believe it or not, mon amour. you’ve become more precious to me than anything this life has to offer, i want to keep you safe and right now the only way is to keep you here.” with him, he wants to keep you safe here with him, away from all the horror of his work, to stay only with him and to speak the words unspoken for years.

“for a while, until you regain your strength. do you understand, mon coeur?”

the marquis has gone fucking crazy.

first he expressed a confession of love to you, second he was watching you the entire time you were asleep and lastly, he won’t let you leave the estate.

it had almost been an hour ever since your conversation with him after you woke up. soon after, thomas knocked the door and peeped his head in, informing the marquis about a visitor in the drawing room. which you were eternally grateful for because you were speechless with everything your boss just told you.

you were still sat on the same chair ever since, you deduced you’ve been in a trance for about two hours and a half, you felt like your legs would give out of shock if you tried to stand up. you found it hard to process everything.

did the marquis feel something for you? certainly. you could tell his intentions from his words and his tone. oh god, the words were enough to catch you off guard but the way he said it, slowly chokes you alive from how stunned you are.

but it feels out of nowhere. in the two years you’ve worked for him, he has been nothing but cold and crass with you like any other interactions between a boss and assistant so this feels rather confusing rather than touching even with the fragility and regret oozing through his tone.

even more reason to go home. you need space, from your injury, from that night and in addition from him.

you need to process your feelings properly without the marquis hovering around you, especially when he made it clear that you weren’t going anywhere. but how in the world were you going to get out of the room? everyone in this estate would immediately inform the marquis and drag you back to the room the moment they see you outside. although you could make an excuse to see someone then bolt through the manor the moment you’re slightly a few paces ahead of them.

you were at a complete disadvantage though, the guards could easily overpower you with their strength and just like you they’re familiar with the nooks and crannies of the sizable manor. however, if you were lucky and stealthy enough, you could attempt to temporarily hide from some rooms until you manage your way to the back door exit without getting caught.

you trudge towards the door, unsure with the plan in your head but too exhausted to make a fool proof one. you slowly push the door with all your strength, you slowly step out and the guard to your right immediately spots you. that’s expected.

“ma’am? you shouldn’t be up and walking around, the marquis specifically instructed that you stayed in your room.” the guard reprimands to you.

“i need to get to the doctor right away. i need the prescription for these painkillers he gave me. you know, in case i need more,” you lie to him.

“we can call for him, so he may come back. easier that way, no hassle for you.”

“i can’t wait for him, it’s urgent. please, i really need this.” you plead to him.

The guard feigns a look of hesitation from your reply. you hold your breath, praying he falls for your folly. he lets out a sigh then answers to you.

“alright, ma’am. but I’ll have to accompany you.”

“thank you.”

the both of you began to walk towards the medic’s office, thankfully the back door was close to the office. silence ensues the walk towards the destination, as you walk you plot your escape. as soon as you make a left, you bolt and run. the pathway to the medic’s was a bit of a maze, hopefully it would confuse the guard and either make the wrong turns or slow down from catching up on you.

several minutes and paces pass by and you finally see the opening to your escape. as soon you made the turn, you ran. a grunt of shock exits the guard’s mouth before scurrying to go after you. then you encounter the turns required for your escape. you move around hastily and once you look back you see that the guard was no longer on your tail. but you couldn’t afford to slow down, sooner or later he might catch up to you or worse another guard captures you.

you could hear bouts of masculine shouts throughout the manor as it bounced off the walls. it filled your stomach with dread and veins pumped full of adrenaline as your heart beat with trepidation. anxious that perhaps the marquis was informed of your ongoing escape.

finally you see the lavish curtain adorned with elegant designs, you shove the curtain aside and search for the door with your hands. for a second, you thought you’d arrived at the wrong place until a soft click entered your ears and your insides warm from happiness. the door was just as heavy as the others and with all your strength you pushed it open half way. you turn to properly fix the curtain making sure no trace of your escape was visible then shut the door as it creaked loudly, cementing the success of your breakout.

you burst open through your door, quickly shutting and locking it. adrenaline and paranoia filled your senses, afraid that you’d been followed to your home and that soon someone was banging on your door until it fell down. you press your back against the door and sink to the floor and sigh in relief.

you take a deep breath and slowly close your eyes for a while, relishing in the comfort of your apartment. you look around glad to see the familiar sight of your home and the sudden purring of your cat. you glance as you see him making his way towards you, a small smile curves your mouth.

ah..one of the burdens are coming to comfort me.

as he nears, you scoop him into your arms and nestle him on your chest. you wish it could stay like this for a while, that you weren’t actively avoiding your slightly deranged boss (that is in love with you?) but merely coming home from a long day to seek comfort from your cat. the ball of fur purrs and vibrations are felt through his body.

you pull away from your cat and get on your feet, making your way to your room for a well earned rest from doing a five mile marathon trying not to get caught. the adrenaline and paranoia was finally long gone.

you needed this. you need to hide out for a while before you face the awkward and confusing truth of reality. the comforting sensation home has given you brought you to sanity. you need to leave.

the guards open the door for him as per usual. although, he can sense fear radiating from them, and due to the intensity of the previous occurrence they were walking eggshells around him again. he enters the room, your room specifically. a few hours ago, the both of you were here and now you were gone, again.

vincent was annoyed. the very people he instructed to keep you in this room failed to obey the task but also lost you as you ran from your escort. not only did you leave this room but you also escaped the estate. how in the world did that happen?

he had no idea you’d be this slippery even with the strict bodyguards instructed to protect and detain keep you in the room. he expected verbal resistance not bloody remus john lupin. isn’t this so sweet? you. the gift that keeps giving.

he doesn’t let his men continue the search, after all there was only one place you could’ve been. in that apartment you live in for the past years, he knows where it is and what floor you are due to the investigation he’d imposed upon you a few years ago. so no worries, he only has his men posted around the structure to make sure you don’t leave. it’s much more strict and controlled than before, this time if they saw you exit the building they’d immediately grab you and bring you back to the estate. so win-win.

although, he prefers to have you here right now, he tries to understand that you’re probably overwhelmed with the surge of events that happened ever since that night. so he lets it pass. as much it insults his pride but he’s not in a hurry to have you stay with him for the rest of your days now that you’re awake. you’ve kept all what you felt from hidden because of his power,his intimidation and his pride. he doesn’t want to lose you again because of it. so he lets it happen, a few hours without you was a price worth paying for a lifetime loving you.

after all love does odd things to people that even the normal human cannot comprehend, love has its mysterious ways and that he can understand for you, even if it wasn’t all going according to what he wanted, he can swallow that down for you. you’ll be all worth it.

he can imagine waking up next to you in the early mornings, grazing your soft palm then slowly kissing your pulse while you sat next to him during dinner and the sweet kisses the both of you would share in the privacy of his room. he can fantasize the sweet dreams and the sinful acts he can do to you when you are finally his.

he inhales the air inside the room, the scent of you evident in the room, like a bloody handprint in a crime scene, attempting to calm himself with the remnants of your presence.

oh..he really misses you.

why do you have to be so stubborn? why do you feel the need to resist him and his love? he’s simply doing this for your best, for your safety. why can’t you just let him do this for you?

this moment should be joyous and exciting between the two of you, because you’ve both found a chance at love. how often does that happen? especially in a workplace, how often does someone find the love of their life within close proximity with them? little to none. he wants to beg you to stay, to journey through the uncharted territory together. don’t leave him, don’t.

he’s finally realized that he loves you, let him show it. let that love melt all that fear you hold in your heart. because it’s all right now, he’s here, let him love you, let him protect you, let him yearn for you.

something vibrates in his pocket, it snaps him out of his trance. a notification beeps through his phone and he leisurely opens it knowing it’s probably a reminder for a meeting. he’s found it hard to arrive at his events on time even with a temporary assistant assigned to him. the latest one wasn’t as sharp and attentive as you, which he found irritating. he really misses you.

the message that laid before his eyes almost made his heart drop.

EMAIL 8:35 PM

SUBJECT: RESIGNATION LETTER

author’s note: this was long…plus i recycled some dialogue bc school’s kicking me in the ass and i couldn’t form coherent stuff for that. i will compensate for that…with another fic…

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik @ilunapb @hesvoid3434 @heartrot666

part one part two part three part five

#bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard gif #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard icons #john wick #oneshot #john wick four #john wick fic #keanu reeves #yandere #obsessive #yandere x reader #yearning

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kentoberry · 2 years

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BITTERSWEET — kamisato ayato.

pairings ⭒ crime boss ! ayato x f reader.

about ⭒ your husband, leader of the shuumatsuban crime syndicate, may be good at his job, but he’s been neglecting his poor wife.

content ⭒ [ 18+ ; minors do not interact ] ⭒ established relationship ⭒ very mild angst ⭒ mentions of violence (including vague allusions to murder) ⭒ light brat taming ⭒ pet names ⭒ dubcon in parts ⭒ gunplay ⭒ threats ⭒ degradation ⭒ name calling ⭒ p-ssy spanking ⭒ mentions of a mindbreak ⭒ dumbification ⭒ c-rvix kissing ⭒ creampie.

your husband always seemed to prioritize work over your relationship. take the untouched home-cooked meals that you had prepared for him, for example, now forming a small village of stacked tupperware boxes in the refrigerator. you would sit and look pretty during meetings with subordinates, like his perfect lap dog. the business bored you, yet you had picked up a couple of tricks here and there.

tuning back into the conversation midway, the topic concerning some issues with the transportations of unlawful goods. thoma, your husband’s right-hand man, made a point of how they should go about it, one that seemed fair. ayato must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, for he was in disagreement.

“but sir, i’m sure you understand why we can’t just-” thoma rambled in attempt to reason with the boss.

“you can, and you will.” ayato’s tone remained calm and collected, sharp gaze enough to strike fear into the hearts of everyone in the room. well, almost everyone - you were unfazed. though his hand rest on his signature white revolver on the table, you saw a perfect opportunity to gain the full attention of your lover.

“thoma is right, darling.”

his head snapped around to face you, indigo irises narrowing as he shot you a warning glare. you continued nonetheless: “don’t make a stupid decision.”

the room was silent enough that you could hear a pin drop. thoma was silently pleading with you to shut up, but you knew ayato would never do anything to actually harm you. plus, from the parts of the conversation that you had heard, your husband did seem to be acting rather rash. not even the clicking of his gun was enough to stop you from your last blow to his ego.

“you’re better than this.”

ayato saw red. he’d never expecting his darling to talk back to him in such manner, humiliating him in front of his people.

“fine.” he kept it short and snappy, his piercing stare remaining trained on you. “thoma can handle it. everyone out.”

the shufflings of papers and rustling of bodies exiting the room couldn’t even distract him from you. your expression remained as aloof as ever, as if you were challenging the man, trying to coax a reaction from him (the latter of which was most definitely true).

once the last person had exited and closed the door behind them, ayato chose to speak.

“i knew it was only a matter of time before you forgot your place,” venom laced his words, making you feel like the leader of a rival syndicate rather than his devoted wife. he let out an exasperated sigh, indicating that he lacked the time for your bullshit. “being quiet never was your strong suit, was it?”

“aya-”

“no. i don’t care. whatever stupid reason you had, i’m sure i can make you forget it.”

ayato picked up his piece, as if measuring its weight in his large hand. the golden decals shone in the faint light, highlighting how pristine the white shade remained despite having been used on some… messy occasions.

“strip.”

your eyes widened. his lackeys had only just left, surely they would overhear! there was no way you were going to be put in such a compromising, risky situation. your apparent ineptitude prompted ayato to grip a handful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. “you heard me. if you want to act like a brat, i’ll treat you like one.”

“i’m not going to-”

instead of using his words, ayato only used his free hand to direct the barrel of his gun into your mouth. just as intended, it indeed shut you up. he chuckled as drool began to pool in your mouth, only for him to force the weapon further back in your throat. “cat got your tongue?”

instead of taking his time to undress you, ayato settled for tearing on the neckline of your shirt until it split in two. he slipped you out of your bra with a single hand, the other keeping his gun in place. the man relented for a mere moment before clambering to get you sat on the table.

“suck.” he commanded, returning the revolver to your lips. he was only met with your pleading eyes, imploring him not to do this. you were beginning to regret speaking up, but the slight glint in his eyes told you that you were in for a good time either way.

ayato kept the barrel of his gun touching your lips as he collected a glob of spit together in his mouth. his height allowed for him to tower over you, giving him the perfect angle to carry out his next action. before you could so much as blink, ayato spat directly into your mouth. whether out of shock or anticipation, you made no move to swallow, instead awaiting instructions that never came. ayato forced his weapon back into your throat, its muzzle causing you to gag. you were filled with the fear that he could pull the trigger at any time, even though you knew he would never go that far. one quick “click!” and you’d be covering the table.

“i said, suck.”

you did precisely as he bid, tongue swirling around the cool metal barrel and tracing over the decals. you looked up at your husband with wide eyes, as if begging for some degree of mercy.

he watched your helpless maneuvers for but a moment before growing bored. ayato flipped the skirt you were wearing up, lithe fingers caressing your already prevalent arousal.

“all this, just for me? hmm? does my nasty girl get off from having a loaded gun pointed at her?”

of course, you couldn’t respond. you could only whine, but even then the revolver muffled your sounds. ayato only continued to mock you, bullying you for being so wet when he hadn’t shown you so little as an ounce of kindness. he forced you to continue sucking on the metal whilst he stroked your drooling cunt over the fabric, barely offering any friction.

the pathetic noises that crawled out of your throat made you sound stupid. ayato didn’t have time for your sounds as he became increasingly desperate to break you enough and put you back into your place. surely a slap or two would help silence his mutt. his palm came into contact with lacey barrier keeping you from him, aim as perfect as ever. you let out a little shriek, not expecting the action. still, you could feel yourself growing both dumber and needier with each smack. your cunt throbbed, aching for more attention.

you were relieved at the unobstructed breath you took once ayato finally relented, barely noticing the saliva that spilled onto your chest.

ayato dropped the gun back to the table. even if the thought crossed your mind to grab it and usurp your husband, he didn’t give you the time. whilst you were recovering from having your throat invaded with his weapon, ayato peeled your panties to the side. he cared not to undress himself, simply freeing his stiff cock from its confines. the man teased your puckering hole with the flushed tip of his length, eliciting a couple of wanton moans as your cunt made futile attempts to pull him in.

“you might want to stay quiet, princess. i’m sure my men are still within close proximity to the room.”

and with that statement, he sunk himself into your sloppy heat. he bottomed out in a single thrust, not giving you a moment to adjust. your husband knew your body well enough to elicit the most sinful of sounds as he thrust into you, bulbous tip kissing your cervix. ayato brought himself closer to your ear just to whisper: “wouldn’t want someone to overhear now, would we? or do i need to put a gun to your head just to keep you quiet?”

already feeling a little dumb on his cock, even you didn’t anticipate the pretty little mewl that dripped from your lips at the threat. with a little “disgusting slut,” and a quick flick of his wrist, you found the cool barrel of his gun against your temple. ayato used the weapon to shift your hair out of the way, the metal contrasting the warmth of your skin.

“’m sorry,” you whined, never breaking eye contact with the man. possessiveness coursed through his veins, proud that he could treat you so poorly yet you would still come running back to him, weak and docile.

you chewed on your bottom lip in attempt to restrain your lewd moans, simply taking what ayato gave you at this point. he continued to plunge into your sloppy cunt, molding and stretching your cushiony walls into the perfect shape for him. you could feel every bump and curve of his cock, just as he could of your insides. ayato hit your sweet spots without fail, his length already twitching due to how well you sucked him in.

“such a fucking whore, getting fucked like this,” ayato’s sentences grew less and less put together, hinting that he was nearing his peak. “want me to get thoma back in here, hmm? let my men watch you go dumb on my dick?” he punctuated each question with a tap to your cervix, forcibly enough that you were sure it’d bruise. “my pathetic slut, going to cum for me, bitch?"

gentle nods were your only response, feeling the heat in your stomach building up rapidly. once again, he let a glob of spit fall onto you, this time directed to your cunt. ayato’s free hand snaked between your legs to toy with your swollen clit, massaging tight circles around the puffy nub. his ministrations furious enough to make you clench yet skilled enough to not cause any overwhelming pain. it was becoming increasingly difficult to support yourself, leaning slightly into the muzzle of the gun pressed against you for aid.

”be a good fucking girl and cum for me.“

the sparse hints of praise were a welcomed change, tipping you over the edge as ayato fucked you through your high. you tried your best to stay quiet, like he had asked, although a few gorgeous whines escaped their restraints.

the feeling of your heavenly cunt contracting around his cock was enough to push ayato to release too, shooting strings of his milky seed inside of you. heavy breaths filled the room for a moment, with him remaining sheathed inside of your heat. the man finally put down his gun, opting for pulling you closer to him.

the tender kiss he placed to your forehead communicated all that you needed to know: despite tonight’s events, he still loved and cared for you, and he appreciated how you allowed him to be rough with you, to use your body as a stress relief from the hectic life that he’d been born into. it acted as a reminder of every promise he’d ever made you, to protect you with his life no matter what.

your husband let you collapse into him, cock keeping your creamy cunt plugged with his cum whilst you calmed down. one hand interlaced his fingers with your own, large digits fiddling with the ring that he’d given to you all those years ago. he pledge to himself to be around you more, for he’d missed soft moments like this. you were his oasis amongst a life of unsteadiness and uncertainty, the only place where he could let his guard down. he whispered a gentle ”i love you,“ into your hair, walls collapsing as he held you tightly. he never failed to be amazed when you whispered a little ”love you too“ in response.

#kentoberryposts #kamisato ayato smut #ayato x you #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #ayato smut #kamisato ayato #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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I keep imagine Bruce being the kind of person that just emotional in general, Like the man is sensitive yes but he sometimes become so overwhelmed that he can't keep bottling up and is like stress relive (I have done it before it really helps) or just he's happy (usually around his family) that he can't help it, this man has a such a bleeding heart full of love is a domino reaction situation

But do you have a HC how would the bakids would react if anyone make Bruce cry on purpose? Like trying to provoke him or making sharp remarks about his parents or his person in general ??

I really love protective batdad but I always in for some crazy protective batchildren who are the only ones allowed to poke or mess up with him (in a carrying way)

Aw, how'd you know I needed crybaby Bruce first thing in the morning?

But seriously. Alfred should've given a warning shot before Bruce went into his first WE meeting.

Perhaps there's a ceremonial aspect in the way men try to break eachother, -- like a family tradition. They see soft and they go for the kill

Thomas took it because he could give it; And, more times than less, gave it worse just to make a point. But the father is gone, and it's the son's duty to wait in line for the chopping block.

Bruce takes it because he's got no other choice, but when he comes home, a perfect mirror of the 9 year old with nothing to show for family day but a broken heart, Alfred knows this won't pass lightly

Tim is petty; Oh but who could've leaked those photos with the Wayne stocksharers arms in arms with corner girls to their wives?

Jason isn't as trigger happy as people think, but he'd take a knife to their neck for sure.

Dick just has a sit down with them like a tired principal.

Damian offers to call Talia and the collective exclaims, " Dami that's taking it too far"

Meanwhile Bruce isn't even aware because he and Harley are cuddling under the blanket fort she was called to build specifically

#bruce wayne #asks #dc #batman #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #jason todd #batdad

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queenshelby · 1 year

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Forbidden Desire (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Warning: Symptoms of PTSD, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Self-Harm, Prostitution, Violence, Fluff, Mild Smut, Drug & Alcohol Abuse

Warning for later parts: Smut, Incest

Words: 4,894

Summary:

This plays after Grace’s death but before Tommy becomes a politician. Lizzie is pregnant with Tommy’s child, so it is somewhere around season four.

In this fic, Tommy suffers from episodes of PTSD and so does the reader, resulting from trauma and abuse. They will help and save each other without realising that their connection is much stronger than they could have anticipated.

There will be love, fluff and smut as well as a highly taboo relationship.

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

His Pain: Tommy’s POV

“If only you could change” were the words engraved in his thoughts until the cold finally woke him. Not the frigid-temperature kind, but the kind of cold that sends shivers down one’s spine, rattling their bones and it is this kind of cold that is embedded in his very being.

It is a cruel kind of cold, the lonely kind and it has gotten worse over the past two years, ever since his wife was shot and died in his arms. She was a beautiful woman who he had loved with all of his heart and, now that she was gone, his pain had returned.

It felt like the sharp pressing of metal against one’s flesh, burying deeper and deeper and it felt different and yet the same every night.

Night? No, it did not just happen at night now anymore. It happened during the day too. Almost every day and every time that business was not on his mind. Business was what kept him going but, often, it was not enough.

There was not enough to do these days now that Tommy had built his empire and wealth and the wealth of his family. He no longer had a mission or purpose to fulfill and this was exactly what made his episodes and hallucinations so much worse.

Sometimes he imagined the shovels in France scarping away the wall paper inside his bedroom or bombs going off by his side whereas, at other times, he saw her. His late wife, Grace, with a bullet lodged in her chest, bleeding to death as he held on to her.

She even spoke to him these days, blaming him for her death and begging him to join her in the afterlife. But he did not. For Tommy, there was not yet a way out. He had a son to worry about and, just recently, Lizzie informed him that, soon, he would become a father yet again, for the second time around.

Tommy often remembered the times when, once, he had it all. He had both, love and wealth. But now that love was gone, life seemed more meaningless to him and it was the drugs and alcohol which helped him forget his pain and grief and now and then. Occasionally, whores helped him too but sex wasn’t quite enough either without love. It was more like a sport for him now, one he soon grew tired of.

Tommy had not slept dreamlessly, without fear and without waking to fresh pains, in years and this is exactly what happened tonight when the clock struck ten.

Following some booze and a few drops of opium, he went to sleep early, around five o’clock in the afternoon after having arrived back home from America where, as usual, Tommy had business matters to attend to.

He was jetlagged and hungover, killing his intrusive thoughts with whiskey yet again. Coupled with drugs, it usually helped but it never lasted long until agony returned in it’s fullest form, betraying him and his sense of security.

Attempts to slow his now laboured breathing, to still the small tremors of fear racking his aching body, were futile now again and it is then, by means of his shivering, that Tommy noticed the borderline painful press of sharp metal against his tongue.

It was just a feeling of course. There was nothing there and he knew as much, but yet, he could not control it. The feeling itself was restricting his movement and whilst he tried very hard to be quiet in his paralysed state, this time, he could not.

His lips burned and there was an unforgettable biting pain shooting through his face, all the way to the top of the head. All he could think about then was the pain, misery and coldness in his body and he though ‘please make it stop’.

He pleaded then, even speaking the words ‘stop’ but it did not, until, finally Frances had taken notice and came to his aid.

Sweat was running down his body, covering him almost completely and when Frances took his hand, he gasped.

‘Mr Shelby. I think you should see a doctor’ she told him again as he sat up and reached for the half empty glass of whiskey by his side.

‘No Frances. I know what this is. No man can cure it. It is a curse’ he told her and she nodded shyly, not wanting to argue with her superior.

‘Shall I run you a bath sir?’ she asked, knowing that this was often what he would do after one of these episodes.

‘No, I will take a shower and head out for the night. Please ensure that Charlie gets up before eight. He has piano lessons in the morning’ Tommy then said before jumping off the sofa which is where he had fallen asleep earlier that evening.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ Frances confirmed while looking at the half empty bottle of opium before, finally, intending to give him some privacy. But, before she left, she said something which took Tommy by surprise.

‘Something must change sir. Or, perhaps, you must change. You cannot go on like this. Not with a young child in the house and another on the way’ Frances told him.

‘If only I could change, eh? That is what everyone tells me Frances. But the truth is, I can’t. I can’t fucking change’ Tommy sighed in response.

He knew that had to change his ways as his opium and alcohol intake increased with every day but no one had a cure for this disease and, thus, Tommy kept on going the way he did until, one day, he would meet a woman again and this woman was going to give him purpose once more.

There was a cure and the cure was her. A woman who did not want nor need him to change. But she, too, needed saving from herself.

The Woman: Your POV

‘Why could some people be themselves without consequences?’ was the question you asked yourself every day since you were able to comprehend what your life would be all about. A turmoil of pain, hurt and suffering.

For years you had suffered and for years you believed that it was you who was at fault of your own suffering as you were reminded of the burden you had placed upon your mother since you were born.

‘In to the closet, you bastard child’ was what you had heard your stepfather yell at you every time he came home drunk and, just after he yelled at you, he locked you in to the cabinet so that he could beat up your mother. Sometimes, he did even more than that, forcing himself upon her and you watched from the far, feeling helpless and ashamed.

Was this how women should be treated, you wondered? Was it normal for a man to behave like this? Was it really because of you? Because you were born?

According to your stepfather, he drank because of you. Because you were a burden to him, he had t numb himself simply so that he could deal with your presence. The fact that he had to look after you, the offspring of another man, disgusted him and the worst of it all was that your mother was unable to bare children again following your birth. This, too, was your fault and he reminded you of this every day.

Once, he pulled your hair so hard that it came out of your skin before throwing you into the closet again, which is where you stayed for two days without any food or water.

This is when you finally had enough and told the police about the assaults but, since your stepfather was a well-known business man, they did not believe you. No one did. Not even your teacher or the girls you called friends.

For years, you had unimaginable pain on the inside that would ache worse than a broken bone and this was because of what he did to you when you were a child.

You felt crushed by a torrent of pain as well as loneliness as you were prohibited from socialising with others. But, even if you had socialised with others, you would never have fitted in. Others always judged you for who you were, dressed in old clothes and broken shoes while living in a wealthy London suburb.

You often had no food as your stepfather drank away the money and, eventually, the house. So, you began to steal and, oh boy, you learned that quickly. You had a natural talent for stealing things but that, too, landed you in trouble and when you were eventually found out, your stepfather belted you fairly hard.

In the end, following so much violence, you became violent yourself. You became angry and volatile towards others and you indiscriminately hated and resented everyone, the entire world.

Later though, the anger would turn into sadness and the waterworks would turn on by themselves no matter how hard you fought them, and you would weep in the middle of the night, thinking that no one should see you like this.

Finally, there were times you seemed so numb that you did not feel anything at all and this is when it happened. You inflicted pain upon yourself so that you could feel at least something. You wanted to feel alive and pain was all you knew, which, absurdly, to you was better than feeling nothing at all.

Eventually though, during the last few years before your stepfather went into hiding for reasons unknown to you and your mother moved to the slums, it became just about surviving for you. You knew that you had to claw your way through this time until you could leave the hell hole in which you were living in.

You began to lose sight of who you were and what your purpose was. Purpose, as well as your hopes and dreams, seemed impossible. Finding someone to love was far too risky and dangerous to you. You did not trust anyone and the concept of love was rather foreign to you.

So, you became afraid to believe in anything, including love, and you developed a hunger deep inside of you that would not go away. The hunger to run away. Far far away.

In the end, you chose a place where you knew you would be able to find work easily and this place was called Birmingham. It was the workers and labourers capital of the UK and you took up a lodging in Small Heath much to the dismay of your mother who grew up in this very same area.

‘Birmingham is dangerous’ she told you, causing you to laugh.

‘You made me live with a man who is dangerous mother!’ you reminded her but she defended your stepfather nonetheless.

‘You can stay with me. He is gone now’ she offered, but you shook your head.

‘He is gone and see where you are? In the slums of Camden Town, working in a god damn liquor factory’ you told her, reminding her that, following your stepfather’s departure, the house you were living in got foreclosed and she had to return to work.

‘But what matters is that he is gone, right’ she told you again, not wanting you to go, but you had already made up your mind.

‘That should have mattered to you when I was young and defenceless. He left when I was merely seventeen and had he not disappeared so abruptly already, I would have gone somewhere else myself’ you said with a stern voice before correcting yourself.

‘Actually, no, I would not have gone anywhere until I killed him after he tried to rape me’ you pointed out and, again, your mother defended his actions.

‘He was intoxicated’ she argued but you chuckled.

‘He was, but I wish that I had killed when I had the chance’ you told her.

‘He is blind in one eye because of you’ your mother reminded you.

‘He deserves that’ you spat. ‘Should I not have defended myself?’ you then asked.

‘You are like your father and this worries me. He was a bad man’ your mother lectured and she did this every time you did something wrong.

‘You said that before and, yet, you told me that he died in France, for his fucking country, all while made me live with a man who was a monster’ you told her but she wanted to abandon this discission all together as it soon was time for you to leave.

‘Just promise me that you will stay away from the factories in Small Heath. Don’t work there. Please’ she begged and you nodded before giving her a hug.

‘I have experience in waitressing so that is what I intend to do mum’ you told her without telling her that, in truth, you already had a job lined up, in a brothel south of Small Heath.

This particular establishment was frequented by the rich and wealthy men, even politicians and sergeants on occasion, and you had a plan on how to make more money quickly.

The Brothel: Two Month Later

Thomas Shelby has not frequented this establishment for a while despite owning it but, tonight, following his episode, he required some distraction.

Usually, he would see one of the regular girls, like Laura or Clara but, tonight, he was in the mood for someone else, someone new, and when he walked into his establishment, you immediately caught his attention.

Dressed in a dark green satin dress and silver coloured heels, you stood there, serving some other customers their drinks. Your hair was long and wavy and you wore the perfect amount of make-up, not too much but noticeable.

You looked classy, not cheap. But you also did not look like a whore and the men in this establishment were at your feet. Most of them wanted to sample you but you were not interested in this line of work. You only served drinks and refused to take money for sex.

‘Is she new?’ Tommy asked the manager of his establishment as he came to greet him. He pointed over to you and this, in itself, caught your attention. a

‘Yes sir, but she is not one of our working girls. She works here as a waitress’ the manager said as he showed Tommy to his table which is where he would usually drink a cocktail first before indulging on one of the working girls.

‘Is she inclined to negotiate her terms of employment?’ Tommy then asked, wanting you to service him. There was something about you that intrigued him and he recalled the first time when he laid eyes on his late wife, Grace. It was a similar kind of feeling, but stronger. There was an instant desire and lust which he now had the urge to satisfy.

‘You could ask sir. But, from what I have heard, Mr Artens already offered her a substantial amount of money last night and she declined’ the manager then said before suggesting that he would send you over to him to take his drink order.

***

Seeing the men looking at you and talking with each other, you realised what it was that they were discussing. The same thing had happened several times over the past few weeks and, whilst unlike Mr Artens, you could see yourself sleeping with a man as attractive as the one speaking to the manager right now, taking money for sex was not an option for you.

Not only did you have no experience when it came to sex as, after what had happened to you in the past, you have not been with a man before, but also did payment for sex contradict your morals.

Several customers who you knew about were abusing the working girls and this, soon, became of great concern to you. This was exactly why you despised this line of work and those who enabled it.

‘You caught his attention’ Martha, a fellow waitress eventually said and you already knew who she was talking about.

‘Who is he?’ you asked her, realising that he appeared important.

‘Thomas Shelby. He owns most properties and businesses in town, including this one. You must be careful’ Martha warned you and you immediately became concerned after having spiked the drinks of three men that night.

‘Fuck’ you gasped before hiding the small bottle of sleeping drops in the empty gun holster beneath your dress.

‘Who did you give the drops to?’ Martha panicked and you pointed to a group of policemen in the corner.

‘Them, over there. They are trouble. They have been here before and gave Louisa a bloody nose’ you explained and since the three men were already becoming rather tired, Martha panicked as well.

‘He might notice’ she said but, just as she did, the manager came over and approached you, directing you to take Thomas Shelby’s order.

***

Of course, you complied with the manager’s request and walked over towards the handsome stranger with a smile.

‘Good Evening, Sir’ you greeted him professionally and he smiled, which was a smile that almost knocked you off your feet. He sure was handsome, you thought and, what you did not know at the time was that he was also one of the most feared gangsters in all of Birmingham and surround.

‘What can I get for you?’ you then asked, waiting for him to make you an offer so that you could decline it.

‘That depends’ he said sharply while offering you seat and a cigarette.

‘I am working’ you told him, declining both.

‘You are and, since I own this establishment, I would like you to sit down and talk to me’ he then said abruptly and, after considering your options, you complied with his request and accepted the cigarette.

‘You are new’ he observed and you nodded shyly while he lid the cigarette for you.

‘I am new, yes’ you told him.

‘Where are you from?’ he then asked and, again, you only gave him a short answer.

‘London’ you told him.

‘And what brings a woman like you to a place like Birmingham?’ he then asked smugly before calling another waitress over in order to get a drink.

‘Opportunities’ you told him and he smiled again, this time more sarcastically.

‘Opportunities, eh?’ he chuckled before making an observation.

‘That’s funny’ he said before carrying on. ‘My late wife used to own this very same dress. I paid for it and it was rather expensive, so I thought that, either you are rich and bored or a thief and opportunist. You just confirmed the latter’ he then told you, causing you to gasp in shock. He saw right through you, although you did not know how this was possible.

‘I am not a thief’ you began to stammer and he quickly leaned closer towards you.

‘Don’t worry Love. I do not care if the dress is stolen nor do I care if you are a thief so long as you do not steal from me’ he interrupted you and you swallowed harshly without saying a word.

‘Now, as to your question about what you could get for me…’ he then began to say while the waitress brought over his drink and placed it on to the table, right in front of him. It was whiskey, on the rocks and this, too, did not surprise you.

Eventually then, after taking a sip, he continued the sentence with ‘…that depends entirely on what you are willing to offer’ and you realised where this was going.

‘I am not for sale Mr Shelby’ you thus quickly said to end the conversation right then and there but, again, he smiled smugly.

‘You haven’t even heard my offer yet’ he thus responded bluntly.

‘There is no need to hear it. I do not take money for sex’ you then told him and he quickly backed off, accepting your morals. He knew that, if he wanted you, he needed to work for it and just as he considered his options again, one of the three men you drugged walked over towards you both.

It was obvious to you that he was angry. You had drugged him and stolen from him twice by now and, just as he began to yell abusive words, you jumped up from your seat and tried to run away.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Thomas Shelby had acquaintances in unusual places and, just as you tried to leave the establishment abruptly via the fire exit, you were held back by a much younger man.

He took a hold of you and, just as he did, the man you had just met followed and grabbed your wrist.

‘You are thief after all, eh’ Thomas Shelby said while pushing you against the wall and it was at this point that you panicked.

‘Let go of me’ you said almost hysterically even though he was not really hurting you. He used force, but not enough to even leave a mark. ‘You are hurting me’ you then yelled again, kicked and screamed and, whilst Thomas was unsure about your overwhelming and aggressive reaction and where this might lead, he loosened his grip.

‘You are hurting my business by stealing from my customers’ he then told you and you kicked him, hard, right into the left side of the stomach.

‘Don’t touch me’ you spat, tears running down your face.

‘Calm down woman’ the other man told you while Tommy gasped for breath momentarily while never letting go of you.

‘If I let go of you, will you talk to me?’ he then asked. ‘You won’t run away, eh?’ he even clarified and you nodded, in tears.

‘Yes. Just let go of me. Please. I am begging you’ you breathed as another panic attack was near.

‘Very well then’ Tommy thus said as he dropped his hands, letting go of your wrists.

‘Those men are evil. Do you even know what they do to these girls?’ you then said through laboured breathing before reaching for your gun holster and, just as you did, both men pulled their guns at you.

‘I am not armed. I just…I…I have this…’ you stammered before retrieving the small bottle of sleeping drops you had tucked away and handing it to Thomas Shelby.

‘You drugged my customers?’ he ought to clarify and you nodded reluctantly.

“Like I said, these men are evil. They are much less of a problem if they are not fully conscious” you pointed out and, while Tommy took the bottle from you and guided you back to where you were sitting, the manager argued with the three somewhat sleepy gentlemen.

‘So, you drug them and then you steal from them?’ he clarified once more and you nodded again.

‘I only drug the men who are known to be violent’ you explained.

‘There have not been any reports of violence towards…’ Tommy began to say, but you interrupted him.

‘Because they pay off your managers so that they would keep their mouths shut! Are you that fucking blind?’ you asked while taking his glass of whiskey from his hands and sculling the lot.

Then, for a moment, he was quiet and just listened.

‘The man over there, he belted one of your women and then paid off the mistress who used to work here so that she would keep her mouth shut’ you said and Tommy looked at the man who, in turn, demanded him to take action.

And this was exactly what Tommy did. He took action, by walking over towards him and punching him in the face. His nose broke and a loud scream escaped him.

Tommy then held onto the man, fisting his shirt and whispering something into his ear. It must have been something of significance as the man began to tremble in fear, which is when, finally, Tommy let go off him.

‘If you disrespect any of my employees again, I will do more than just break your fucking nose, eh! Now get the fuck out of my establishment!’ Tommy yelled before briefing the other customers, informing them that abuse towards the women who work in his brothel, was not acceptable.

His demur and attitude surprised you and, when he was done and snapped out of his antic, he sat back down and cleaned off his fist.

‘Now that this issue has been addressed for now, I want to know what really brought you here, to this establishment’ Tommy said and you nodded again before explaining yourself.

‘I needed a job and no one else would take me’ you admitted, seeing that you had next to no credentials.

‘So you came here, eh?’ he asked and, once more, you nodded shyly.

‘Yes, but working here, just as a waitress, does not even cover my bills. I needed more money, so I started stealing from the people who come here’ you admitted and, by this point, his acquaintance had already handed him your employment contract.

‘I see you live in Jacqueline O’Conner’s old lodging. Did you know her?’ Tommy then asked and you confirmed that you did.

‘She is my grandmother, but I never met her. I took on the house after she died. The rent is cheap’ you explained and this made sense to him.

‘Jacqueline O’Conner is your grandmother, eh?’ he asked. ‘She used to work in one of my factories. She was a good woman’ he then told you before asking about your mother.

‘So, your mother is Josephine O’Connor then?’ Tommy asked and you were surprised.

‘How did you know?’ you wondered but the answer was obvious.

‘She was Jacqueline’s only child’ Tommy explained and you realised that this was true.

‘So, you know my mother?’ you queried.

‘I used to. She was a good woman’ Tommy said and this was something which made you chuckle.

‘Yeah. A good woman’ you laughed, seeing how she had failed to protect you from your stepfather, Steward.

‘How would you like to come and work for me and make some more money?’ was the next question Tommy asked, catching you by surprise.

‘You are offering me a job?’ you clarified and he confirmed that this was indeed what he was doing.

‘Yes Y/N O’Connor. I am offering you a job. At my offices. It is legitimate work and I will pay ten shillings per week’ he said, catching even his acquaintance by surprise. This was a lot of money these days, especially for office work.

‘That it is four times as much as I get paid here. Why are you offering me that much money?’ you wondered, being slightly suspicious as well as cautious.

‘Perhaps I just believe in your abilities’ he mused. ‘So, do you accept?’ he wanted to know and you knew that you were lacking options.

‘Yes. I accept’ you confirmed which, again, made Tommy smile.

‘Good’ he said. ‘Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock at this address. Don’t be fucking late’ he told you before handing you his business card. Thomas Shelby, Director of Shelby Company Limited, it read and his offices were located right within one of the large factory buildings in Small Heath.

The Aftermath: Michael’s POV

‘She steals from us and you offer her a job?’ Michael asked after listening in on the conversation.

‘Yeah’ Tommy said bluntly and Michael wanted to know his reasons.

‘Why?’ he thus asked, causing Tommy to smirk.

‘My reasons are two-fold’ Tommy explained, causing Michael to chuckle.

‘You want to fuck her, now that is obvious. That is reason one…But what is the other reason?’ Michael asked with great curiosity.

‘Her mother, Josephine O’Connor, was once married to a man by the name of Steward Callum. He went to school with me and Arthur and Arthur almost killed him with his bare fucking hands because of a bet which, ironically, involved a date with Josephine herself’ Tommy chuckled, remembering the grief caused by Josephine’s actions at the time.

‘Arthur was in love with this woman’s mother?’ Michael ought to clarify.

‘Yes, but Arthur never stood a chance with her. She told him to go to hell when he first asked her out and Steward O’Conner married her a year later, leaving Arthur’s heartbroken’ Tommy told him but this still did not explain Tommy’s need to employ you.

‘And?’ he thus asked. ‘This is no reason to employ her daughter’ he pointed out.

‘Steward Callum owes us a significant amount of money. He has a gambling debt and vanished without repaying it’ Tommy explained.

‘How much money does he owe?’ Michael wondered.

‘Twenty thousand pounds’ Tommy said, almost angrily.

‘Twenty thousand fucking pounds?’ Michael was shocked. ‘What are you going to tell Arthur?’ he then asked but Tommy did not intend to tell him anything.

‘Nothing! This needs to stay between us, for now’ he thus instructed, causing Michael to nod.

‘Now, call Pol and tell her to gather Abrahama’s men. I want two stationed at each of our brothels for the next two weeks. If there is any truth to what our new friend is saying, then we must put a stop to it’ Tommy then ordered.

‘Alright. I will get right to it boss’ Michael mused before wanting to head off with one of the working girls.

‘And Michael…’ Tommy called after him as Clara took hold of Michael’s hand. He had booked her for the next hour and wanted to make the most of it whereas Tommy was no longer in the mood for any such thing.

‘Yes Tommy?’ Michael asked quickly.

‘Y/N O’Connor is off limits for you and everyone else. Make sure you communicate that, eh’ Tommy said, marking his territory.

‘Yes Tommy. She is all yours. Clearly, you enjoy the challenging ones’ Michael mused, seeing that you would be rather difficult to deal with.

‘Well Michael, what would life be without a challenge, eh?’ Tommy responded before deciding to call it a night. If he could not have you, he did not want anyone at all.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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989 notes · View notes

chillypowder · 9 months

Text

Fragile Bonds

Pair: Ayato x Reader

Summary: After Neglecting you for 7 months he finally realizes his mistake

The crisp autumn air filled the streets of Inazuma City as Reader, heavily pregnant, made her way toward Ayato Kamisato's office. It had been seven long months of neglect, and she couldn't bear it any longer. The once strong bond they shared had become fragile, and she desperately needed to confront him.

As she entered the office, Ayato barely glanced up from his paperwork. Reader's heart sank at his indifference. The room felt suffocating, and her emotions were running high. She took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak.

"Ayato, we need to talk," Reader said, her voice trembling.

Ayato finally looked up, his eyes widening as he took in Reader's appearance. Her belly had grown significantly, a clear sign of the life they had created together. Guilt washed over him, but he quickly tried to dismiss it.

"What is it, Reader? Can't you see I'm busy?" Ayato replied dismissively.

Reader's heart shattered at his response. She had hoped for understanding, for Ayato to realize the pain he had caused her during these past months. But he remained oblivious to her feelings, consumed by his work.

Tears welled up in Reader's eyes as she struggled to hold back her emotions. She couldn't bear to be neglected any longer, not when she needed him the most. In a moment of desperation, she raised her voice.

"I can't believe you! After everything we've been through, you've been neglecting me and our child for seven whole months!" Reader cried out, her voice filled with a mix of anger and hurt.

Ayato's eyes widened in shock as her words sank in. He hadn't realized the extent of his neglect until this very moment. Regret flooded his heart as he reached out to touch Reader's arm, but she pulled away, protecting her vulnerable belly.

At that moment, a sharp pain shot through Reader's abdomen, causing her to scream in agony. Ayato's eyes widened in horror as he realized the gravity of his actions. He had accidentally hurt their unborn child, the one precious thing they had left.

Just as panic set in, Thoma burst into the room, his eyes filled with worry. He had sensed the distress and rushed to the scene, ready to help.

"Reader, we need to get you to the hospital," Thoma said urgently, his voice filled with concern.

Thoma swiftly scooped Reader into his arms, carrying her gently as he made his way out of Ayato's office. The weight of his mistake crashed down on Ayato as he stood there, dumbfounded and filled with regret.

At the hospital, the doctors examined Reader and assured her that the baby was fine, but the incident had been a wake-up call for everyone involved. Thoma stayed by Reader's side, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

When Ayato arrived at the hospital, Thoma wasted no time in confronting him. He made it abundantly clear how Reader had tried to communicate her feelings for the past seven months, and how Ayato had chosen to ignore her, valuing his work above all else.

Ayato couldn't bear to look Thoma in the eye, the weight of his actions crushing him. He finally realized the depth of his mistake, how he had taken his loved ones for granted. With a heavy heart, he promised Thoma that he would never prioritize work over Reader again.

Days turned into weeks, and Ayato kept his word. He cherished every moment he had with Reader, ensuring she felt loved and supported. Every day, he apologized for his negligence, even though Reader insisted that it was okay.

They spent hours talking, mending their fragile bond that had been tarnished by neglect. Ayato realized the importance of communication, empathy, and the delicate nature of relationships. Through his actions, he showed Reader that he truly understood the pain he had caused and was determined to make amends.

As Reader's due date approached, Ayato was a constant presence, holding her hand, wiping away her tears, and whispering words of love and reassurance. When their child finally arrived, Ayato felt a surge of overwhelming joy and gratitude. He vowed to be the best father he could be, never allowing his work to overshadow the love he had for his family.

#ayato angst #genshin angst #genshin impact #angst #genshin impact angst #ayato x reader angst #kamisato ayato #ayato x reader #thoma genshin #angst to fluff #angst with a happy ending

269 notes · View notes

genshinemblem564 · 3 months

Text

Pokémon x Sagau Pt.2

___________________________________________

• A few days later. You had summoned at least one person from each nation who you were familiar with, as well as the Traveler. From Mondstadt, you had summoned Amber, Noelle, Sucrose, and Albedo. From Liyue, Xiangling, Zhongli, Cloud Retainer, and Baizhu. From Inazuma, Kamisato Ayaka, Thoma, Arataki Itto (Shinobu came to keep him out of trouble), and Grandmaster Hanakado. From Sumeru, Kaveh, Dehya, Faruzan, Tighnari, and Collei. From Fontaine, Freminet (The twins came for moral and emotional support), Navia, and Chevreuse. Lastly, Snezhnaya, Childe and Sandrone.

• You explain the situation in full for those who were unaware of the state of things and your reasons for summoning each of them. The mechanically gifted and more dexterous (Amber, Noelle, Thoma, and Collei) among them were to learn to craft pokéballs, as while not machines exactly, they had enough small components that you couldn't leave this in the care of blacksmiths. You apologize to Cloud Retainer as you understand this is rather trivial to her, but she brushes it off, claiming to understand how grave a situation this is. While the others' main priority is to provide pokéballs to the rest, it doesn't mean they can not also aid in capturing the Pokémon that had been flung from their homes.

• You explain that Tighnari, Zhongli, Sucrose, and Albedo's mission is to study these new creatures, as while you may know a great deal about them, you know not which ones have appeared, nor will you always be there to lend guidance, so such information must be made available to the public. Zhongli couldn't help but ask why he was involved in this when he's a stone expert, to which you explain that there is an entire category comprised of living stone as well as those that make use of camouflage, the former geo archon was surprised that living stone was a common thing in another world. Baizhu was told that these creatures could hold medicinal properties and healing powers as well, so you wanted him and Tighnari to find ways to counteract the harmful effects of these creatures by studying them.

• Finally, the rest were to be the first tutored in Pokémon battles. While the craftsmen stayed with Uxie, the rest followed you to the sparring grounds, which were built for the soldiers that stayed in your home to keep them sharp. You, having had some practice in your powers, decided to expand it a little. It helps that it's in the back with nothing hindering expansion aside from a bit of landscaping. The new grounds were designed around a traditional Pokémon battle arena, with clear indication of where each person stands while the battle takes place and a pokéball symbol at the center, and you also create a few bleachers for everyone to watch from.

• You decide the first to battle you would be Arataki Itto. Everyone is surprised by this, but you simply tell them to watch, and they'll see why he was your first choice. You decide to dummon a Pokémon that would fit Itto's battle style at that moment, that Pokémon being Grubbin, and you decided to also use Grubbin to keep things fair, it wouldn't be much of a lesson if you beat him in one hit after all.

• You hand Itto his Grubbin as well as a piece of paper. You explain to him that the words on the paper are the moves that it can use, being Vice Grip, Bug Bite, String Shot, and Spark. Your Grubbin had the same moves. When you both reached your designated places, you commanded your Pokémon to battle.

• You opened by binding your opponent with string shot and hitting them with spark. Once Itto's Grubbin breaks free of string shot, he also commands them to use it. However, instead of binding your Pokémon, he commands his to spin yours around before slamming them into the ground. Just as you thought, Itto's not a traditional trainer by any means. You command Grubbin to use bug bite to break the string before Itto could repeat this tactic.

• You order your Pokémon to use spark, to which Itto's Grubbin responded by burrowing underground. You were shocked at first, you were almost positive it didn't know dig, then you remembered this isn't a game, Pokémon can still use their natural abilities even when their move slots are taken up. After a while, Itto shouted for his Grubbin to use vice grip, after which it burst out of the ground, tossing your Grubbin into the air before catching it with its pincers. The way your Grubbin was trapped made it difficult for it to escape, all the while Itto's Grubbin was squeezing yours tightly. You thought and thought before commanding Grubbin to use spark once more. Because it was in its opponent's pincers, the move immediately started damaging its opponent. Itto then commanded his Grubbin to slam yours into the ground, letting it go while also causing it damage. Both of your Pokémon were barely able to stand, and you decide to call it there.

• Itto nearly collapsed from the adrenaline leaving him. He noticed his Grubbin running or scuttling up to him despite nearly being drained completely in battle. He picks them up and goes to petting the little thing, praising them for an awesome job. You tell Itto that if the two had formed a bond that he may keep them and may even name them. Itto was excited but also confused. You explain that because Pokémon are their own living beings, it is their choice to follow orders, and so a bond is necessary, other wise you won't be able to battle properly or at all in some cases. So, while everyone here would receive a Pokémon to start with, they would need to form a bond with them first.

• As you moved along, gifting everyone their starters and covering the various topics such as type match ups, STAB, status effects, etc. Afterward, you decided to see how everyone else was doing. Most everyone had made about 10-15 pokéballs while those who tinker on a more routine basis had made about 50 each. Due to lacking technology, most notably the lights at the pokéballs' center, these resembled the Hisuian variety.

• You talk with Zhongli and Cloud Retainer in private, again apologizing, as you understand Liyue had a huge ordeal about not relying on Adepti anymore, but in this situation you didn't see a way around it. They told you not to worry about it, as this was quite the perplexing circumstance.

• After everyone had been taught to battle, it was time for the catching lesson. In this case, it was more a throwing lesson for others. While those like Amber, Collei, and Tighnari were good to go, and I imagine Tartaglia had experience in snowball fights, and Shinobu throwing kunai, the others were struggling, either throwing too hard or too soft, rotating their wrist too far, or simply not knowing how to aim their throw. You asked for help from the others because if you were the only one teaching, you were going to be here a while.

• After all of that, you asked them all to teach this to the people of each nation as well, hoping that this would be enough to spread the knowledge to every corner of Teyvat.

• Everyone was satisfied with their roles and were about to leave when Paimon asked why it was so important to catch these Pokémon. You explain that by now, they must have noticed that these creatures are no normal animals, and if left unchecked, would potentially wipe out all other species in Teyvat, not only causing many creatures to go extinct, but because you have no way of knowing how many of every species might appear you could not rely on them to replace those animals in the food chain meaning it would throw the entire ecosystem into chaos. Seeing Paimon's confused face, you added it also means no more sticky honey roast, that certainly got her attention.

• You tell Zhongli one more thing. You open a box of evolutionary stones and ask him to keep an eye out for them as they have extraordinary effects on certain Pokémon and you'd rather these effects not take place in the wild, giving him the box for the other stone experts to examine as well. He bows and makes his way back to Liyue.

• You decide to create a terrarium as an extension to your home, crafting it to the most minute details. It contains multiple biomes, including a swamp, plains with lakes, a jungle, a desert, a beach, an ice mountain, volcanic caves, some normal caves, and a mountain with storm clouds generating lightning (for the Pokémon that feed off of electricity). This would be where all of the Pokémon not in use would be kept.

• By the end of the day, you were exhausted. You thought that if you ever lived with Pokémon, that it would be exciting, you never accounted for having to not only teach people about them, but also make a place to keep them. At least that's behind you now. That night, you slept like a log.

___________________________________________

Sorry if the reader apologized too much, I may have been a people pleaser in the past. I also used this as practice for writing fight scenes, which is a reason why my crossover fanfics haven't updated in a while. Also, I tried to find info on pokéballs, more specifically if they needed to land a certain way to work, and no dice. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this.

#genshin impact #sagau #crossover #Pokémon #arataki itto

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shelbystales · 9 months

Text

Honor and Blood - Part Twenty

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Read previous parts here: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19

Summary: you are a gypsy and your family lives near Birmingham. Tommy Shelby needs a favor and Johnny Dogs says you’re the one he should ask for. A meeting is scheduled and when Tommy meets you, he is instantly drawn to you.

Warning: Swearing, angst

A/N: Please comment and interact. tell me what you think! it means a looot to me if you do!

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Y'know, Red, sometimes I think you don't take what I say too seriously," Billy remarked, lounging in his chair with his feet up on his office desk.

"Ah, I do," Red replied, trying to hide his building anger.

"I gave you simple instructions. Find the fucking weapons," he said as if it were a breeze, "but here you are, playing house."

"I'm out there looking for answers," Red shot back.

"Right, but we already have the answers, Red," he shrugged. "When you're out there asking who has the weapons, the answer is unanimous, isn't it?"

Duke nodded in agreement, "The Peaky Blinders."

"Yeah, easy peasy. So do something about it," he said, removing his feet from the desk and leaning in with his forearms on the table to get closer to Duke. "The shop was a warning. You don't want the next one to be the depot with those expensive machines your lovely daughter bought, do you?" he taunted. Duke was seething with anger.

"I've been doing me best to find out where they are," Duke responded, giving Kimber a deathly glare.

"Have you really? The Red I know would have had Thomas Shelby tied to a chair, bleeding the answer from his mouth. I hope your lovely daughter isn't the one to blame in here” Kimber continued.

"Keep her out of this," Duke warned, his voice laced with tension, which only seemed to amuse Kimber further.

"Please, Daddy, don't hurt him," Kimber taunted, his words dripping with sarcasm. Duke's grip tightened on the armchair, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grasp. "I need to know who's loyal, Red. You know what happens to those who prove disloyal to me. Maybe the shop wasn’t enough incentive? Should I pay her a visit?"

In that moment, Duke visualized himself vaulting over the table, his small yet sharp knife carving a vicious path across Kimber's throat, from ear to ear.

"There's no need," Duke said, rising to his feet. "I'll get your bloody guns." He left Kimber's office, a wave of nausea washing over him. He couldn't believe he was being pushed around like this by a man like Kimber.

Walking down the streets, Duke's mind raced with conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being manipulated by Kimber, a man he despised. He clenched his fists, a physical manifestation of the storm raging within him.

He was used to being the one in control, the mastermind behind the scenes. But now, his power was slipping through his fingers, and he hated every moment of it.

Meanwhile, you were at the camp, organizing the house and preparing for a small meeting to address the concerns of your group. Your group was sizeable, but not as large as the Less family. While they had around 50 people, your group consisted of about thirty.

"What are we going to do when the money runs out?" someone asked, their worry evident in their voice.

"Is it even worth going back? What if they do it again?" another voice chimed in.

"What's the point of our efforts if we'll just be crushed? Maybe we should head south, follow the sun," another member suggested.

You listened attentively to the concerns of everyone. You understood each person's perspective, as they talked among themselves, fueling each other's fears with questions and doubts.

"I know things aren't going as planned," you began, your voice cutting through the chatter, "but we can't let them win. Whoever they are. If they slap us, we offer them the other cheek. We're not afraid of wolves, we're not afraid of bears, so why should we fear them?" you spoke, capturing everyone's attention. "We're fine, we have food, and we have a decent stash of money to fall back on if needed. You don’t have to worry about that, let me worry about that. We'll resume our lives as if nothing happened, because this is just another obstacle in our path. In the meantime, we keep learning how to use the machines, we need to learn how to make clothes to start selling them. We can sell them on the streets or at fairs like before. We'll find a way. What we can't do is let fear guide us, never."

"The city council is going to inspect the shop tomorrow," your brother spoke at your side, "as soon as they give us the green light for construction and repairs, we'll start taking action."

“The Shelbys are helping us to find the one responsible for this, and trust me, they will” you added

Your words had a soothing effect on your people, calming their nerves. To shift the focus and lighten the atmosphere, you asked about one of your cousin's upcoming marriage plans. The topic transitioned smoothly, and you spent the next few minutes discussing and excitedly planning for the future.

As the conversation shifted towards happier subjects, the worries and fears that had been hanging in the air slowly dissipated. Laughter and smiles replaced the tension.

"Good save there," your brother said as you two found yourselves alone. "You always know how to handle things well."

"It's always good to remember that bad moments aren't just bad.Hey, did you see Dad?" you asked, noticing his absence.

“No, he left right after breakfast” he answered making you frown

Where the hell is he? you wondered

Duke went to the Garrison in search of Thomas, but he stumbled upon someone even more suitable – Arthur Shelby Sr. He took a seat beside the family patriarch, and they started to drink. Well, Arthur started to drink. Duke, on the other hand, discreetly discarded his drink whenever he had the chance.

Duke attempted to steer the conversation towards the guns, asking Arthur about them. As anticipated, the old man was clueless about it all. Instead, he rambled on about his plans and investment ideas – a bunch of nonsense that Duke paid little attention to.

The situation became more intriguing when Arthur Shelby, the eldest son, joined them at the table after a bit of convincing from his father.

Duke waited for the right moment to bring up the subject. In the meantime, he allowed the Shelbys to drink themselves into a stupor. He took the time to observe the atmosphere at the Garrison, taking note of the young bartender who seemed a bit too engrossed in the conversation at their table. Nosy one, he thought.

"You know what I'm sick of?" Duke finally spoke up, seeing that the two Shelbys were already stumbling over their words.

"Tell us, Duke, what's bothering you?" Arthur Sr. asked with a grin.

"I can't stand this whole gun business anymore. It's all the newspapers talk about, it's all people discuss on the streets. Today, I went to the restroom, and the guy next to me was blabbering about it while he was taking a piss!" Duke exclaimed, pretending to be agitated. Both Arthurs burst into laughter.

"Don't even get me started on those damn guns," Arthur said, downing the contents of his glass in one gulp. "I got beaten up over this bloody mess, and I didn't even do a damn thing!" He shook his head, frustration evident on his face. "All because of Tommy," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Duke to hear. "I got a thrashing for nothing!" Arthur's voice grew louder.

"Hey, but you're tough, huh?" Arthur Sr. chimed in, putting his arm around his son. Arthur grinned, pleased with his father's recognition.

"Tommy?" Duke questioned, not attaching much importance to what had just been said. "His fault for what?"

"Oh, nothing. He's just a pain, that's all," Arthur said, deflecting the topic. Duke leaned back in his chair as the Arthurs began discussing boxing matches.

He realized that he wouldn't be able to extract any more information from the two Arthurs and decided to go straight to the source for answers.

Thomas lifted his gaze from the documents in front of him to see your father standing at the doorway of his office.

“Duke? What are you doing here?” Thomas asked, surprised.

"We need to have a serious talk," Duke replied firmly, walking inside and closing the door behind him.

Thomas stood up and poured two glasses of whisky, handing one to Duke. Despite the gesture, Duke didn't show much interest in the drink. He got straight to the point. "I know you have the guns, kid."

Thomas's face remained composed, but his eyes gave away a flicker of surprise. He took a slow sip from his own glass, buying himself a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You do now, eh?” he asked, voice firm. as he sat down

Duke leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Don't play games with me, Thomas”

Thomas leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "And what exactly do you want from me, Duke? You want me to admit to something I didn't do? You want a confession?"

Duke's jaw clenched. "I want the truth”, he said sitting on the chair in front of Thoma's desk

"And what will you do with it?" Thomas asked, his gaze locked firmly onto Duke's eyes.

Duke's expression remained stern as he leaned back in his chair. "Depends on what the truth is."

Thomas took another sip of his whisky, his mind racing. He had to choose his words carefully, weighing the risks and benefits of revealing any information.

He wondered if you knew that your father was here, if you knew what he was doing. But he assumed you didn’t.

Thomas held his gaze steadily, his own thoughts working overtime behind his calm facade. What would he do if he found out? Thomas wondered, thinking the events that would follow.

“You don’t want the truth, Duke,” Thomas finally spoke, his tone measured and deliberate. Duke's reaction was immediate and explosive.

"You stupid child!" Duke's voice thundered through the room, his frustration and anger exploding as he stood and paced the room. Thomas remained composed despite the outburst, his demeanor unflinching. “i need those guns”

“Why?” Thomas asked, lighting himself a cigarette.

Duke didn’t answer, he just watched Thomas, considering his moves. He couldn't hurt Thomas, no… you would never forgive him. but he couldn't risk you as well. Kimber was threatening you and he couldn't have you hurt.

“What does Kimber have on you, Duke?” Thomas finally mustered the courage to ask, catching the man off guard. The question hung heavy in the air, the tension palpable between them.

He took a deep breath and sank back into the chair across from Thomas. He felt defeated, realizing that either way, he would come out on the losing end, and you would be harmed in the process. In that moment, he considered that Thomas might be his only way out.

"Helena’s death was me fault," he replied, rubbing his face wearily.

"Who's Helena?" Tommy frowned, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Y/n's mom," Duke answered, his voice low and filled with regret

"I remember you mentioning that she was poisoned," Thomas spoke, trying to piece together the puzzle as he took a drag from his cigarette.

"Yeah, by Kimber himself. You know, I didn't think he would actually do it," Duke shrugged. "I worked for that fucker for a very long time. When he threatened her, I thought he was just talking. Empty words. And then he gave me a bracelet, told me to give it to her, a wedding gift. There was something in that bracelet that poisoned her. Day by day, she got sick. I gave her the bracelet. Me. When she passed, he told me what he did"

Thomas's face hardened as he processed the revelation. He understood the weight of Duke's guilt and the complexity of the situation.

Hearing that information about your mother would undoubtedly be a shock to you. The revelation that she was deliberately poisoned, and that your father had inadvertently played a role in her death, would stir up a mix of emotions within you.

“Y/n can’t know,” Duke said, his voice carrying a warning tone.

“Duke, you didn’t do anything willingly. It's not your fault,” Thomas stated, trying to ease the heavy burden of guilt that Duke carried.

Duke shook his head, his eyes filled with remorse. “I was fooled, Thomas. I should have seen through his games. I should have protected her. It's on me. I will carry that guilt into me grave” he breathed heavily “and now... he’s threatening y/n, i won’t make the same mistake and assume his words are empty”

“What?” Thomas asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward, immediately concerned for your safety. He couldn't bear the thought of you being in danger.

“He was the one who burned the shop. He thinks I'm not doing a good enough job searching for the guns,” Duke explained.

“What does he want with those bloody guns, anyway?” Thomas asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“He said something about going after the Sabinis”

“The Sabinis? That's a big step” Thomas said, connecting the dots.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, his mind racing as he considered the implications of this new information. He took a contemplative sip of his whisky, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid.

Duke wondered if what he was doing was the right thing or the worst mistake he could have ever made. But the thing is, Thomas cared for you and well, maybe that was enough.

“I’ll keep y/n safe. I’ll do me best, I promise you” Thomas said after a while of thinking. “We need to be smart. Kimber is a greedy man, maybe we can use that to our advantage. I’ll think of something and I’ll let you know as soon as possible”

Duke nodded and held his hand for Thomas to shake, Thomas reached out and firmly shook Duke's hand, their grip a silent agreement to work together. No more words were needed.

Duke left Thomas' office, headed home.

“Fuck” thomas whispered feeling stressed, he downed the whisky in front of him and begin to work some sort of plan in his head. Your safety being his biggest concern.

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