shelby-fangirl00

[shelby-fangirl00]

Main Masterlist I do not consent to my work being copied.

Thomas Shelby Series- link

Thomas Shelby One shots

Masterlist One -link

Masterlist Two - Link

Cillian Murphy Series - link here

Cillian Murphy One Shots - link here

3000 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Banners credit - created by @cillmequick ❤️

[shelby-fangirl00]

Somewhere out there cillian murphy is walking around in tommy shelby mode and ya'll are silent about it

[shelby-fangirl00]

people: “ i want them so bad i wish they where real 🤤😍”

shifters: …

[shelby-fangirl00]

it‘s cillian‘s birthday today! 🤍 so here‘s him as cakes:

[shelby-fangirl00]

EMMA D'ARCY and OLIVIA COOKE — Recap 'House of the Dragon's Season 1

[shelby-fangirl00]

Thank yewwwwwww🤤🤤🤤 this is perfect

Hello sweetness ❤️

Can you write a dom Oliver Quick x femme reader? Reader tries to embarrass Ollie in some way in front of friends (masking the fact that she’s into him) and Ollie punishes her for it later? “All you had to do was ask” somewhere in there lol. Hope this makes sense💋

Just Had To Ask

Oliver Quick x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You embarrass Oliver while playing never have I ever. He shows you how to use your mouth properly after the game.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Face Fucking, Degradation, Oral Fixation, Masocism

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Everyone was gathered around the coffee table. Drunkenly laughing and making conversation. Trying desperately to tune out the crying of your responsibilities. Work, school, get fucked up, playing into the pointless social hierarchy, repeat. Oliver was sitting on the couch and you were on the floor between his legs. A red solo cup being held by your manicured fingertips Rubbing your other hand up and down his shin. Someone suggests a game of never have I ever, due to the fact that the game takes minimal effort: everybody joined it. At first the questions weren’t anything deep but as the game progressed so did the vulgarity of its content. 

“Never have I ever, let a man put me in my place,” you laughed and set your cup on the table. This caused a few snickers from the other men in the room. Oliver set his hand on your shoulder, you knew he was trying to rein you in. 

If you were being truthful, you should have chugged the rest of your cup. Honestly, you were constantly trying to test his limits. You loved the way he looked at you, silently communicating with his eyes. Letting you know what you were walking on thin ice. This gave you such a thrill it became a regular routine. Purposely dancing in the most provocative way you could, barking back at him whenever he tried to calm you down. Knowing you were his but because there was no title yet, it gave you more length on your leash.

“Never had I ever, let a someone fuck my mouth,” one of your friends asked while making direct eyecontact with her boyfriend and taking a sip. You let your head fall back into his lap, mouthing ‘you wish’ to him. Watching in amusement as he started grinding his teeth together. You could tell he was getting worked up; feeling his member began to harden.  

“Why isn’t Y/N drinking Ollie?” one of his friends snickered which made him roll his eyes; they knew you guys liked each other and had been talking for a while.

Fast forward an hour and everyone was in their own little world. Some couples lazily making out on the carpet, a few people passed out on the sofa and lounge chairs. Someone locked in the bathroom, hearing them throw up through the door. Ollie was asleep and you really needed to pee. The bathroom downstairs was taken so you stumbled upstairs and into the master bedroom. Pushing open the bathroom door and letting yourself fall onto the toilet. 

As you were finishing up when Oliver came in; taking you off guard. He locked the door behind himself and then turned back to you. His hair was wild, sticking out in all directions. The pupils of his eyes were completely dilated. It was extremely noticeable due to his once baby blue eyes now being black. He wasn’t even making eye contact but instead ripping you apart with his gaze. Mouth hung open and breathing like he just ran a mile. 

“You know, if you really wanted me to put you in place you could have just asked,” he explained, taking a step forward. You didn’t say anything and neither did you until being backed up against the sink; him only inches away, 

“It was so obvious how you were crying for my attention earlier. Flaunting yourself, waiting for me to shut you up. The way your face heats up everytime you look back at me, trying to see if I'm having a fit,” he said, pressing hips against yours. 

Running his finger tips down your arm and towards the hem of the dress. Dipping the digits underneath the material to feel the skin on your thigh. Laughing as you spread your thighs apart slightly. Using his other hand to grab your jaw, forcing your lips to separate. 

“I wish?” he growled, “are you really that conceited that you think i’d need to wish for these lips wrapped around me Like you wouldn’t be begging for it ?” he talks down to you, pushing you down by your face onto your knees.

 God he was squeezing your jaw so hard, the inside of your cheeks were pressed against your teeth. Your knees hit the ground hard, the cold tile only helping aid the ache slightly. He pushed his two fingers into your mouth, smashing your tongue down. Eyes beginning to water from trying not to gag. He uses his thumb and wipes them away after they fall down your cheeks. 

“If you’re waiting to start begging because I have my fingers down your needly little throat then we're gonna be here all night,” he laughed, wiggling his fingers a bit. 

You tried saying please but it was gurgled and made drool fall down your chin. Spilling out of the sides of your mouth, he was grinning from ear to ear. Delighted to finally have you under his thumb, knowing he had enough control to do whatever he wanted. In his eyes, you were a blank canvas waiting to be littered with his art. He takes his fingers out of your mouth and begins to unbuckle his belt. Grabbing his cock by the base with one hand and using the other to grab a fist full of hair. Anchoring his hand onto the marble of the sink, immobilizing your head. He began rubbing his tip against your bottom lip. Pulling away everytime you tried to take his length into your mouth. After he did this a few more times, you began getting irritated; glaring up, which only hummored him. 

“Awe what, you don’t like that?” he cooed down at you in the most patronizing tone he could come up with. 

You opened your mouth to respond but he took that opportunity to shove himself inside. Using both hands to hold your head in place as he began thrusting. Hands gripped his jeans, your nails ripping down the material. Trying to suck in breath whenever his length wasn’t blocking your airway. Gagging and sputtering; a mix of pre-cum and saliva dripping down your neck and onto your chest. You move your head to the side but there is no escape. His cock being pulled out of your throat and tucked into the pocket of your cheek. 

“Now keep that pretty mouth open so I don’t have to hurt you, yeah?” he growls, gripping onto your hair with more force. 

Fucking himself deep into your throat, groaning once his cock was once again blanketed by your warm mouth. He couldn’t hold his climax back for much longer. He looked down at you and almost came from the sight; your face was bright red, eyebrows furrowed and tears streaming down your cheeks. He presses himself into your mouth until your lips are around his base. Your head smashed between him and the sink. Cum starting to flood down your throat, some spilling out the sides of your mouth. Once he was finished, he pulled out and walked out; leaving you confused and blue balled.

[shelby-fangirl00]

Hunting You-part one

•A successful assassin from London named Penny is hired to travel to Small Heath and kill Thomas Shelby. (Don’t want to give too much away tehe)

•WARNINGS(18+, minors DNI): Enemies to lovers, Dual POV, Smut (in future chapters), Lots of angst, Strong language, Lots of violence

•Authors note: hey y’all! This story has been brewing in my mind for some time.This part is kind of an introduction to my story. Reblog if you enjoy:) Next part will be in Tommy’s POV.

Penny

I checked my watch every few minutes for what seemed like an eternity. Plopping my elbows on the wooden table top, I huffed loudly. According to the dick who hired me, Shelby should’ve been here hours ago. Honestly, I didn’t mind waiting, since I was paid in advance, but my fingers still twitched in anticipation, eager to finally get my hands dirty again.

This was an ordinary night for me, except for the part where I had to travel into this piss poor town. Under any other circumstance, I would have told the man who hired me to fuck off. But how could I refuse such a hefty wage? Anyways, doing this out of town work only makes my job easier. At least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Nobody here seems sober enough to remember gossip about a hitman. Let alone talk of a random woman in a pub.

Killing Thomas Shelby will definitely make waves Small Heath, but thats not my problem. I’d be gone before sun rise. Talks of a female assassin surely hadn’t traveled to this poor drunken town anyways. It’ll be as if I was never here.

I nurse my glass of whiskey. Just as the rim of the glass touches my lips, I pull out the very dated photograph of Mr.Shelby I was given. I imagine he was just a boy in the photo. He appears to be in uniform and my chest tightens at the thought. I can only imagine the horrors he’s seen since this was taken. It wouldn’t surprise me if the man today doesn’t resemble this photograph at all.

The doors open for the first time in an hour and I hear the booming laughter before I see the lot of them. A large group of nicely dressed men in caps waltz in and I assume this to be the notorious Peaky Blinders. Of course I did some research before coming here. They were feared throughout this place. Known to be unforgiving and ruthless. This Shelby man I’m sure is a sick and twisted bastard. All the best men I know are. I myself am a bit sick and twisted.

Hiring a female hitman, like myself, had different perks. It’s far easier for a woman to get close to a man they don’t know. They don’t see us in the same light. We come off as less of a threat. In my experience, no man is immune to the powers a beautiful woman can possess over a man, in the right circumstances. Thomas Shelby couldn’t be any different from the rest of them.

I straightened my back and fell into the role I’d been assigned. My long black dress hugs my waist and my thigh is bare under the slit of my gown.

My eyes search for someone loosely similar to the photograph, maybe with a beard and some extra weight, but there’s so many men now crowding my view. Eventually, I hear a loud voice yell for a “Tommy.”

Gotcha.

The men seem to part perfectly and I have a clear view of him. I see the not-so-young-boy who grew into this apparently fearsome man.

My blood runs cold and I curse under my breath. To put it plainly, the man is fucking gorgeous. His stature radiates confidence while his presence demands respect.

He’s aged nicely, his cheekbones even more pronounced now. Even from my small booth in the corner, I notice his dazzling blue eyes. Out of all the men here, why did it have to be this one? Most of the men I’m hired to kill are assholes who don’t deserve to see the sun again. I hope he’s the same.

I beeline to a nearby group of drunk and smelly men. I pretend to walk past them and “trip,” over one of the chairs, spilling my whiskey out onto an old man’s shoulder.

“Stupid bitch!” The man attempts to stand up and almost falls on his ass. I try to muffle my laughter. I wish I could kill this one too, it would be too easy.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” I plead with him and he finally steps closer to me, trapping my body against another table. His stench is repulsive and it takes every bit of willpower inside of me not to put a bullet through this fuckers head. I momentarily get lost in the thought, his greasy face would downturn and the life would drain from his angry expression before he dropped dead.

My hands press down into the table as he spits at me. He grabs my wrist tightly before speaking again.

“You’ll fuckin pay for that, girl. Why don’t you join me and-

A hand covers the man’s shoulder, squeezing harshly before speaking. As if the man has eyes in the back of his head, he freezes and turns slowly, like he knows exactly who the hand on his shoulder belongs to.

“Alright, Tim?” A low but smooth voice asks. My breath hitches in my throat and I don’t really need to pretend how scared I am anymore.

“Of course, Mr.Shelby. Just teaching this one a lesson in manners.” The big oaf states confidently.

For the first time, Mr.Shelby’s eyes lock with mine and I suddenly forgot how to breath or blink or function at all. He’s even more stunning this closeup. He examines me for an uncomfortable amount of time before speaking again.

“I don’t think that’ll be nessacary Timmy. Why don’t you go back to your table and let me handle it?” This Tim man peaks at Tommy from behind his shoulder and I can tell this is an order. Tim finally releases my wrist and grunts, giving me one last look that makes me feel dirty, and stumbles off.

I exhale loudly, pretending to finally relax.

“Thank you, sir. I was worried I wouldn’t get out of that one.” I stated, chuckling lightly under my breath.

“No trouble, Tim’s an angry drunk. He won’t remember ya tomorrow.” His words sit in the air between us awkwardly before I decide to speak again.

“I’m Nora.” I lie.

I stick my hand out and smile stupidly. This takes him back but he recovers quickly, smirking and pressing his hand in mine firmly.

“Tommy. You aren’t from here…don’t tell me you actually moved to Small Heath on your own free will.” He chuckles darkly, placing his half empty glass between his lips and searching my eyes for an answer. He looks similar to the picture, more dead in the eyes now. No less mesmerizing.

I laugh. “Thankfully, no. I’m just here visiting an old friend. How’d you know?” I place my own glass to my lips now, scanning the room behind him.

He smirks, finally letting his eyes drop for a split second to my chest.

Shrugging his shoulders plainly, he states, “It’s a small town and I’ve lived here me whole life. I would’ve known if someone like you lived here.”

My eyebrows arch in question. “Someone like me, yeh?”

He smiles slowly, but it’s dark, almost like a warning. I don’t understand why I’m suddenly so clammy?

I need to get this over with. My body is betraying me, because all I can think about are his lips and how they would feel on mine and what his chest looks like underneath all those damn layers.

Giving in only slightly to my body’s demands, I take one big step into him, putting my chest inches from his own. I look up at him with a dazzling smile, and he just smirks. Does he always have that smug fucking look on?

“Well thank you for saving me, Tommy.” His eyebrows shoot up in what I’m assuming is surprise?

“Another whiskey?” He asks, stepping past me towards the bar and nodding to the barman.

I take in his stature beside me, leaning his forearms against the long bar. As much as I would love to entertain this handsome stranger, I had a job to do.

I squeeze his shoulder, leaning into him so my lips barely touch his ear.

“Excuse my forwardness, but I’d rather take you back to my flat, Tommy.” I squeeze his shoulder one last time before stepping back.

He cranes his neck to look behind him at I don’t know what before returning back to me.

“I like forward. Lead the way, love.” Finally, this can end.

“Of course…” I say sheepishly and he doesn’t hesitate to follow closely behind, his hand resting on my lower back. The sensation sends a shiver up my spine.

As we trot outside, he moves his hand from my back to behind his own and i do the same. I silently acknowledge the few daggers I have hidden in my stockings along with the gun in my purse….aaaaaand maybe a few razor blades underneath my pinned updo. It’s just a precaution, really. I can never be too safe. Plus, it’s fun to switch it up every once and a while.

“Where ya staying?” He asks smoothly as we round the dark corner.

“Just across the p- the air is quickly swept from my lungs as Thomas grabs me from behind and slams my body against a brick wall. I gasp as both of his hands wrap around my throat and he never stops squeezing.

Fuck. He knows.

Panic sets in and I’m clawing at his arms desperately. I try to maneuver my legs in order to knee him, but his body is flush against my own.

“thought it be that easy to kill me? You’re at the back of a long line, love.”

I muster up enough rage in my throat to spit out a “fuck you.”

My hands could only reach his side, so I wail on him. As soon as my punch lands, I feel another pair of hands on me, pinning my arms over my head. Thomas bends for only a few seconds before spitting and regaining hold over me.

I look over to see the other man pinning me against the wall. He’s younger than Thomas, but sporting a similar smirk.

If I don’t finish this job, Tommy will kill me. And if he doesn’t, the man who hired me would. Especially after being paid in advance.

I felt myself slipping from the lack of oxygen. But just as I closed my eyes, Tommy released me but the other man stays put to my side, his hands tighten around my wrists and his chest is pressing into my arm.

Tommy turns back around, adjusting his coat and lighting a cigarette before examining my flesh, the way my dress had fallen open at my chest during our scuffle.

“Who hired you?” He asked plainly.

My chest was heaving and I swear his eyes followed the movement for a split second.

“How should I fucking know? A man overpays me in advance for a hit and I don’t ask questions.”

The man holding my body hostage against the brick wall, bellows out an annoying laugh but Tommy doesn’t so much as smirk.

He sighs before reaching inside of his coat and pointing the barrel of his gun at me.

I giggle, cocking my head and studying him now. “You ever killed a woman, Mr.Shelby?”

“Enough. Tell me his name or I’ll put a bullet between those pretty eyes.” He says, almost softly, like he’s seducing me instead of trying to kill me. I hate how my thighs clench together and my nipples harden under my dress. All this foreplay tonight between the gun, the two angry men holding me against a wall and a touch of breath play.

“Promise?” I don’t know how, but I knew he wouldn’t shoot.

He sticks his gun back into his holster from underneath his coat before speaking again.

“John, put her to sleep and tie her up.” And before I could even protest, the man’s hands move from my wrists to around my skull, slamming it into the brick wall. Everything goes black. I never stood a chance.

Part two coming soon in Tommy’s POV!

Taglist:

@lyarr24

@forgottenpeakywriter

@casa-boiardi

@tigernach575

@crabat-the-queen

@adaydreamaway08

@everysage

@yurmomsawh0r

@delusionalxoxo

@trixie23

@star017

@bbuckysslutt

[shelby-fangirl00]

put that old man in a sexual predicament

[shelby-fangirl00]

Audible gasp

Greetings from my POS self, Tumblr friends! I've revamped my account! While my love for Tommy Shelby will never waiver, I felt very limited on what I could write when I only allowed myself to write for TS. This made me so unmotivated to write at all. I want to write about all of my hyper fixations and yours! Currently, I am obsessed with any and all Barry Keoghan characters, Cillian Murphy characters, Jon Bernthal characters and Sebastian Stan characters. I'll write for many fandoms though! Send me your nasty requests asap so I can prove myself to y'all once more. Love you, Tumblr clan. As always, my account is 18+.

[shelby-fangirl00]

Yeah.

[shelby-fangirl00]

we’re all about to lose our minds.

[shelby-fangirl00]

Squirm

Saltburn: Felix Catton x fem!reader x Oliver Quick

Drop a Heart Collection

Rating: E (minors DNI)

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: polyamory, masturbation, mild d/s vibes, anal (use of a plug), a bit of praise kink

The boys bring a secret desire of yours to life  

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

The morning sunlight streamed through the parted curtains, the iridescent beams glittering throughout the room as the warmth caressed your bare skin. You parted your lips in a silent moan as Felix slowly thrust into you, the curve of your ass snug against his pelvis once he buried deep. Oliver rolled one of your nipples between his fingers, those blue eyes piercing through you.

“So close,” you murmured, hazy with lust and burning with desire.

Felix’s breath tickled your neck. “Make a mess for us, love.” His encouragement made your belly clench.

Oliver moved his hand between your slick thighs then one finger pressed against your clit before slowly circling the swollen bud. It was enough to send you toppling over the edge, drenching Oliver’s fingers and Felix’s cock.

“Fuck,” you murmured, caught in euphoria as the heat in your lower belly subsided.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” Oliver whispered, teasing your clit just a moment longer before withdrawing his hand. His fingers glistened with your juices.

Felix remained inside, one large hand stroking your hip as you kept him nice and warm while his mouth claimed your shoulder. Those lovely lips suckled pleasantly over your skin as you all basked in the aftermath. Once your mind cleared, you pursed your lips gently as a particular thought overtook you.

“What devious thoughts are swirling around that pretty head of yours?” Oliver asked, having grown accustomed to the looks that crossed your face and the meaning behind them.

You chuckled, giving him a half smile. “I want you and Felix to play with my ass.”

“Bloody hell,” Felix laughed, gently slipping out of you.

“Oh, I think we can arrange that,” Oliver smirked.

You giggled softly before gasping as you were flipped onto your belly. Your cheeks turned hot while Felix’s large hands palmed your upturned ass. The rustling of the sheets indicated Oliver had moved, and you squeaked when you felt the cool dribble of lube between your cheeks, the liquid quickly warming when it hit your skin. You closed your eyes, unable to tell whose fingers were opening you up. Perhaps they were taking turns.

“How does it feel, sweet girl?” Oliver cooed.

“Feels nice,” you murmured, enjoying the fullness of their fingers and the feeling of being so vulnerable and exposed.

“You’re not ready for our cocks yet, we’ll have to open you up some more,” Felix said.

You felt the smooth tip of what you could only assume was a plug pressing against you, slowly descending until it was seated fully inside. It sent a tingle through you, your fingers gripping the soft sheets as you rutted your hips.

“You’re going to sit through breakfast with it inside you, sweetheart, and be sure to eat every bite and behave properly. No squirming around like a little slut,” Oliver instructed as Felix let out an amused chuckle.

“Ollie, I don’t think…” The feeling was already incredibly intense.

“Shhh, I know you can do it,” he quickly silenced you as Felix rolled you onto your back.

“Be a good girl for us, darling,” Felix cooed.

“I will, but I need help getting dressed,” you whined, batting your lashes at them.

Felix slipped the pink satin knickers up your legs, ducking down to kiss you before you lifted your arms for Oliver to slide the champagne-hued chemise over your head. It had a matching dressing gown, which Oliver belted around your waist. Before heading down for breakfast, the three of you took turns exchanging sultry kisses until lips were swollen and pink. Felix gently squeezed Oliver’s waist, and you could have sworn the shorter man blushed.

“Well, don’t we look dreamy this morning,” Elspeth smiled in your direction as you slipped into your chair. She was quite amused by the triad that had developed.

Felix gave a soft snort before delving into his eggs. Venetia blew a puff of smoke as she hid a coy smile while Oliver sipped his coffee. 

“Felt like a rather lazy morning,” you hummed simply as you did your best not to react to the feeling of the plug pushing inside. It sent a jolt straight to your clit.

Conversation began to flow as James mentioned an upcoming exhibit at The National Gallery. You were caught in your own world, shifting gently in your seat. Oliver’s gaze locked onto yours, raising a brow, warning you to stop. Though it proved to do the opposite, making you squirm even more under his stern gaze. You felt Felix’s hand settle on your thigh, doing nothing to soothe the ache between your legs.

“Are you alright, darling? You look a little peaked. If you’re running a fever, we really should quarantine you in another wing,” Elspeth chirped.

“No, I’m feeling fine. Must be the summer heat,” you quickly explained away, waving your hand in dismissal. 

“Indeed,” she replied, giving you a peculiar look.

You attempted to focus on your food, slowly swallowing every bite as Oliver had instructed when all you wanted to do was rut against the edge of the chair until you came. You wondered if bringing yourself to orgasm at the breakfast table would be the most outrageous thing to have occurred in Saltburn.  Maybe James would have appreciated a little performance art. You were thankful when breakfast wrapped up, with everyone going their own ways for the morning until it was time for lunch. You quickly scampered away, slippers slapping against the marbled floors, until you found sanctuary in the bathroom. As you approached the large mirror, you tore away your dressing gown, the material pooling on the floor along with your knickers.

You inched your chemise up your thighs, peering over your shoulder until you caught sight of the black plug nestled between your cheeks. Your clit throbbed, and you couldn’t wait another moment as your fingers delved between your damp folds, slowly sinking two inside. A sharp rapt at the door made you jump.

“Let us in, little girl,” Oliver curred.

You bit your lower lip, rutting your fingers faster as you ignored his call. You needed this release, chasing the high until you spilled over them. You washed your hands, panting softly as you smoothed out your chemise before opening the door. Oliver took hold of your chin as Felix hovered over you.

“You’re such an insatiable slut, couldn’t wait five more minutes?” Oliver scolded.

“I couldn’t,” you huffed.

“Oh, are we in a bratty mood, darling?” Felix hummed, lightly slapping your ass.

“Just needy.”

You squealed as Felix scooped you into his arms, carrying you to his bedroom with Oliver trailing behind. He deposited you onto the bed ungracefully.

“Think she got over excited with that plug in her ass,” Felix grinned, grabbing your legs and tugging you down the bed. He bent your knees back until you resembled an upended beetle. Oliver’s palm slapped down, striking the plug's base, sending another jolt through you. The next slap landed on your soaked, puffy pussy. A squeal flew from your mouth, but Felix quickly silenced you by shoving your damp knickers into your mouth, having procured them from the bathroom floor.

“Do you want the whole estate to hear what a desperate slut you are?” Felix asked, stroking your hair.

You shook your head, sinking your teeth into the silky fabric as Oliver took hold of the plug, slowly withdrawing it before pushing it back in. Felix helped keep your legs back while Oliver fucked your ass with the plug.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To have the pretty ass fucked?” Oliver teased, keeping his movements steady as his fingers circled your clit. You felt on edge, yearning for this, but your body wouldn’t last much longer. You were overstimulated, whimpering as Oliver worked you into a third release.

As the pressure inside you burst like a popping balloon, tears dribbled down your eyes, your body feeling raw and overused. Felix pressed his lips to your cheek, lapping the track marks softly before removing the knickers from your mouth.

“No more,” you sniffled, allowing your legs to relax.

“You’ve earned a rest, sweet girl. You did wonderfully,” Felix praised as Oliver massaged your calves.

“But maybe tonight…”

Oliver snorted, rubbing his face, as an amused smile tugged at his lips. “You’re something else, love. Already making plans for tonight?”

“Well, so long as I can spend the afternoon napping and lazing about, I should be fully recovered by then,” you smiled, curling into Felix’s warm body.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll draw you a bath; you’re a bloody mess.” Oliver bent down to kiss you.

“Ta, love, sounds brill,” you murmured.

This summer was already off to a promising start.

[shelby-fangirl00]

⋆ eat your young pt. 2

Felix Catton x gn!reader x Oliver Quick - 18+ mdni

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

I want to fill my mouth with your name; I want to eat you whole

part 1

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (gn, reader receiving), dub-con, Felix being a dick, Oliver being a creep, no condoms used (wrap it pls, this is fictional), creampie, somewhat threesome, penetrative sex, vague mentions of gore but they're just allegories, hickeys, biting, Felix thinks you belong to him, some fighting

note: Uhh the smut it sorta vague and I have no idea if it's any good. This is my first time trying to write something more explicit ':> so, forgive me if it's not great. Hope it's still enjoyable!! male reader version here

wc: 5.2k+

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Summers at Saltburn are truly a somewhat magical, near-otherworldly experience, to say the least. Oliver could easily pretend to be part of some fairytale, having run off to some faraway kingdom and now residing inside the royal family's castle.

Saved by the golden prince and offered ridiculously lavish, luxurious shelter in exchange for selfless devotion. Selling his soul for the mere taste of gold on the tip of his tongue, and behold the unworldly beauty of his keepers.

Fuck, he'd probably bark if any of you asked him to.

He looks up from his position on the ground, his back perched against one of the bookshelves lining the walls, to peek over to where you're sharing an armchair with Venetia. She's got you seated on her lap, giggling at the obvious awkwardness of the position as she refuses to let you go.

You push against her head, laughing and trying to wriggle free from her grasp.

Oliver licks his lips, noticing envy's biting blade nick the back of his neck, as he once again wishes you'd feel comfortable enough to touch him in such ways as well. He winces as it greedily laps up the hot, imaginary blood trickling down his back with its icy tongue.

But he's stuck playing dog, gnawing at your left-overs, and begging for your attention with big eyes. Wagging his tail every time you even as much as graze him with your fingertips.

He sighs, letting his attention fall onto Farleigh, who's leaning against the side of said armchair but actually seems to be reading something.

On the complete other end of the library stands Felix as he browses through some of the older books that probably have a pretty significant historical worth at this point.

One hand in his jeans' pocket, and tracing each and every book's spine with the other as he pretends to care about their titles.

Felix has been acting uncharacteristically grumpy and standoffish, barely talking to you and outright giving the silent treatment to Farleigh.

Oliver's scheming has driven a wedge between the group, splitting it in half and leaving you dangling helplessly in-between as both teams refuse to let go of you. Stubbornly pulling you in two separate directions.

Still, Felix refuses to leave you alone in a room with the others, always lingering right around the corner to keep an eye on you. So, when you guys decided to snoop around Sir James' library for a bit, he'd obviously insisted on him and Oliver joining you.

It's strangely cathartic to watch Felix Catton, Oxford's golden prince, get so hot and bothered about something he could easily get from hundreds of other people. One smile, and they'd offer him human sacrifices.

To Oliver, it's morbidly amusing to see his pretty face contort into pained scowls, struggling to conceal his sorely evident jealousy. It must be driving him insane, for once he's the one to yearn for worship instead of drowning in it.

But who can blame him? You seem to want everyone but him.

You manage to slip out of Venetia's hold, smacking her thigh in retaliation, before joining Farleigh on the floor. Farleigh leans over to whisper something in your ear, earning a stifled chuckle from you as you cover your face with both hands.

He grins, making a point of shooting Felix a sardonic look and quirking his brows at him. After all, he's not one to take blatant disrespect lightly, even from Felix.

Speaking of which, there's a searing heat radiating off his body, like waves of disdain crashing up against the room's walls and leaving behind a torturous tension as it seeps through the floorboards. His deep, brown eyes glint with the sheer fury of a petulant toddler not getting his way.

Felix's anger has a way of shaking the castle's foundation, causing its perfect facade to crack and crumble beneath the unbridled brutality of his glares. If looks could kill, this room would be painted with blood and guts by now.

Felix ultimately just scoffs and turns away again, clenching his fist in barely restrained disdain.

There's something in Oliver that desperately wants to witness Felix lose it and hail down upon Farleigh in explosive fury, but that's sadly not in his character.

Or maybe he's just not ready to let himself get sucked in by that oh-so-alluring call out of the darkness of violence's abyss.

"Ollie, mate." Felix moves to stand in front of Oliver, forcing him to crane his neck to glance up at him. "Let's go. I'm bored."

His icy tone sends a small shiver down Oliver's spine, but he just nods obediently and silently follows him out of the room. Throwing one last glimpse back to share a small, confused smile with you.

⊹˚.

Eventide continues to roll in, and the horizon beyond the windows bleeds into blackness once again. Oliver watches moonlight slowly but surely flood through his window, silvery light crawling along the walls and furniture.

He lets his head drop back against his bed's headboard, pondering the fine cracks in the ceiling as he waits for Felix to finish up his nightly routine in their shared bathroom. The door is locked, and he's sure taking his sweet time today.

They'd spent the afternoon trying to play tennis, but Felix seemed more interested in blowing off steam by sending tennis balls soaring into the sky.

Certainly an interesting way to deal with emotional turmoil, but Oliver wasn't about to question it and risk a shot to the face.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by the characteristic creak of the floorboards outside his bedroom, glancing at the only partially closed door to notice a shadow lingering behind it.

A quiet knock makes him perk up and call out for the person to come in, right before realizing that he's shirtless. Well, too late; you're already standing in his room, with damp hair and what looks to be a pyjama assembled solely of Felix's clothes.

You seem weary and troubled, especially with your eyebrows furrowed in such a way. It's almost cute, your shoulders slumped in uncertainty, but Oliver's heart still drops a little at the sight.

He mumbles your name, shifting to sit at the bed's edge and urging you to join him. "What's wrong?"

"It's kind of stupid, uhm…" Shaking your head pensively, you take a seat by his side.

Oliver's breath hitches a little when he feels your warm skin brush against his, thighs pressed against each other as though you've always been this close. He focuses on your lips in an attempt to not get distracted by the feeling, only for his mind to devolve into the urge to kiss you.

Damn it, why do you have to be so easy to desire?

"Okay." You try again. "So, you and Felix are kinda close now, right?"

Oliver nods, big eyes trained on the way your mouth moves and curls around every syllable.

"Could you-…" You sigh, lowering your voice as you gesture vaguely at the closed bathroom door. "Do you know why he's acting like this?"

Oh.

He ponders your question for a while, letting his gaze drop to the floor as he scours his brain for a good response.

On one hand, he wants to be honest; you're clearly suffering, and it nearly breaks his heart to see you like this. But on the other hand, there'd be no way for him to truly get what he so intensely craves from the two of you.

No way for him to sink his teeth into your sweet flesh and burrow his way deep inside. No way for him to lick your taste off of Felix's lips.

"He did tell me something." He mumbles, acting as though he's divulging top secret information as he pretends to deliberate the consequences of such a breach of trust.

You light up at that, eyes wide and curious, as you grab onto his arm, clearly desperate to resolve this ridiculous dispute. "What?"

"I don't know if I'm allowed to say…"

"Please, Ollie." You plead, nearly whine, and he swallows thickly at your tone, his gaze flicking to your fingers as they move to gently press against his chest in your eagerness. 

He falters for a moment, his mind reeling from how good it feels to have you clinging onto him like this. Tempted to lean in closer and make you dig your fingernails into his skin. 

Instead, he shifts to brush a rogue water droplet from your cheek, relishing the way you seem to lean into his touch. 

Before he can even say anything, though, the door to the bathroom swings open, and in comes Felix.

There's a palpable excitement in the manner in which he flies into the room, but once he notices the incriminating position you and Oliver are in, his face drops.

He watches the two of you promptly scoot away from each other, clearly embarrassed, even though this was hardly something taboo for you to do.

Still, there's something so incredibly intimidating and menacing about the way Felix's jaw ticks at the sight, his large frame lingering in the doorway and blocking any light from the bath from spilling in. He's clearly upset with the implications of finding you in Oliver's room, looking like you've been feeling him up much less.

"Hi, Felix." You try to break the silence, but he just continues to glare at you in response.

Oliver scrambles to stand up, carefully approaching him as though he's a wild animal that could decide to maul you at any given moment. "What's up, mate?"

Felix lets out a dry, humourless chuckle.

The energy in the room shifts dramatically, the ground beneath your feet tilting and swaying, as though the earth itself is trembling in unbridled indignation.

"What's up?" He mocks, turning to slam the bathroom door closed again before brushing past Oliver and strolling over to you.

As he comes to stand in front of you, you instinctively stand up, ready to explain yourself, but he simply pushes you back down onto the mattress. Leaving you to plop down in a huff and sending your poor heart plummeting into your stomach.

He hooks two fingers under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up and look him in the eyes. Felix Catton is not an angry person; he's sweet and naively good-natured—not whatever this is.

You can't help but let out a small, fearful gasp as you're hit with the searing heat of the flame burning within his dark eyes.

It flickers and quivers with sheer fury, but there's still a certain apprehension in the way Felix is glaring at you. This sort of anger is so new to him, so unfamiliar, and so deeply unpleasant.

"How long have you been fucking him?" Felix spits.

Oliver shouldn't be enjoying this, not when you look so frightened, but it's just so awfully delightful to watch you tremble beneath the heat of Felix's glare.

It takes you a second to register his words, your mouth hanging open in utter bewilderment.

"What the fuck are you on about?"

"Or how about Farleigh?" Felix shrugs, forcing an exaggerated smile. "How many times have you slept with him? Hm"

"Never! What is-"

"Don't lie to me." He warns you, his hold on your chin shifting to tighten around your jaw instead.

You wince in pain, sniffling pitifully as you try to make sense of his accusations. Distress and confusion written all over your pretty little face, with tears threatening to spill over.

"We never did anything." Oliver interjects. "I promise, we were just talking."

Felix doesn't even spare him a glance, continuing to loom over you with such intensity that it could drive you underground. "Did you fuck him?" He repeats.

"No." You snap, the last remaining shreds of your patience reduced to ash by now. "But maybe I should. It gets a little frustrating rubbing myself raw all summer; I could actually use a little help."

You stand up, making a point of getting in Felix's face before continuing. "So, thank you for the idea. I'll go check on Farleigh now."

But you only get about two steps in before you get thrown onto the bed in a harsh, unceremonious fashion, its old frame creaking beneath the sudden weight. Felix doesn't waste any time pinning you down on it, crawling on top and pressing against you until you can feel his breath fan over your face.

"Why don't you want me?" There's so much anguish in his tone; it's unsettling. "Why him? Why everyone but me? Why not me?"

A wretched sort of self-pity weighs down on his shoulders as he searches your features for an answer, desperate and misty-eyed. As if his life depends on your touch, on your reverence.

Oliver stands frozen, his limbs paralyzed with the carnal hunger sparked by the way Felix's hips dig into yours. Even if he willed himself to move, he fears he could only aid in restraining your wrists and feast his eyes upon the sight.

He's but a starved man, faced with an indulgence so delicious it could mark his end, and he'd still be the happiest he's ever been.

"Why not you?" You furrow your brows, your voice cracking ever so slightly at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Why don't I want you? Fuck, Felix, I-… I've wanted you ever since I knew what wanting someone meant. I drove myself mad trying to get over you."

It's not a declaration of love, not the hopeful confession of a crush long harboured; it's a bucket of boiling water dumped over Felix's head as you watch him scream and writhe in the agony of a missed opportunity.

His bottom lip quivers as the realization washes over him, a suffocating air of tragedy poisoning the night as his composure begins to crumble.

His flaking skin exposes the raw, feverishly heartsore red of his flesh once he recognizes his mistake. "Why…"

"I never told you because I didn't want to end up like all the others." You admit, that painfully familiar knot of melancholy stuck in your throat. "I don't want you to throw me away like all your other playthings. That's why."

He's crestfallen, horrified at his own behaviour and at his arrant ignorance. There are a million apologies on the tip of his tongue, his fingers eager to wipe that scowl off your face and replace it with a blissed-out smile.

But there's something rousing within him—so nightmarish and so eager to maul him from the inside out.

It charges at his heart, baring teeth, thrashing, and snarling as he fights the urge to dig his claws into your throat and make you say it all over and over again.

"I could never throw you away, darling." He whispers with such intense sincerity that it nearly pierces your lungs.

He watches a tear crawl over the gentle curve of your cheek, the tenderness of your soul laid bare in the shimmering trail left behind.

The next moment, he's kissing you. His lips so warm and so enticingly soft that you could get drunk on the feeling, even more so when he delves his tongue into yours.

You can only heave a breath of relief, one you've been holding for so long that it's become a part of you. Leaving behind a gaping chasm only for it to be filled by his scent, his taste, and his fervour as he instinctively rolls his hips against you.

The friction like soothing ice on the pulsing ache of an old, devastatingly familiar wound.

By the time he pulls away, you've long swallowed your anger. As has he, it seems.

You're met with flushed cheeks and that lovely twinkle in his eyes you've missed so much, but there's something so different about it. It carries a heaviness with it, an energy that causes your hair to stand up.

Neither of you dare to speak, much too enthralled by the passion of this moment—this long-overdue revelation.

Instead, he twists his neck to glance at Oliver, who's rocking a very obvious boner as he just lingers in the middle of the room. His mouth hangs open ever so slightly as he stares back, like a deer caught in headlights.

A small, devious smirk creeps onto Felix's face, his gaze meeting yours for a split second before he's beckoning Oliver over.

The poor guy seems a tad perplexed and humiliated by the acknowledgement of his presence. Still, he shuffles over like an obedient dog, the entirety of his soul placed in Felix's palms without hesitation, as though it's nothing.

"You're a good person, right, Ollie?"

Oliver swallows thickly, then gives a slow nod. He recognizes that animalistic glint in his friend's mirth, the very same one he's so used to beholding in his own reflection.

"Right." Felix grins. "Would you mind helping our darling here out, mate? We wouldn't want anyone 'rubbing themselves raw', do we now?"

There's a certain condescension to his tone, a touch of revenge, and you know you should feel insulted by what he's insinuating, but instead you find a white-hot eagerness pooling in your abdomen.

No shame, no self-respect—not when they both look so deliciously glorious bathed in the dim blue of moonlight. The prospect of having them both make you eat your words wipes your mind blank.

Oliver licks his lips nervously, his heart beating so fast that it may burst through his rib cage at any moment. He nods again, this time with the scent of fresh kill in his nose.

"See?" Felix drawls, leaning down to place a small, languid kiss on the side of your mouth. "You should've asked for my help earlier, baby."

⊹˚.

The room feels as though it's spinning—or maybe the entire world altogether. You feel like you're sinking into the matress, your hips bucking into the hot, feverish touch of Oliver's tongue as it presses against the sweetest spot.

Stars blur your vision, twirling and dancing on the tip of your nose as your mouth hangs open in ecstasy once more.

Felix smooths back your hair, warm hands lingering on your hairline as he coos at you.

"This is what you wanted, right?" He says it so sweetly, but you can see the simmering contempt in the way his lips curl. "You wanted to fuck someone, right?"

Felix sits with his back against the bed's headboard, your head in his lap, and Oliver's on your heat, obediently lapping up any whimper and mewl slipping over the precipice of your lips. Your fingers find the thick, dark tresses of his hair to burrow themselves into, tugging at them with every flick of his tongue.

He's watching your every expression, every twitch of your lips, and every gasp as he kneads the softness of your thighs, tempted to leave the imprint of his teeth in them.

Felix smooths his thumb over your furrowed brows, mesmerized by the euphoric glimmer in your eyes as they roll back.

He leans down and gets as close to your ear as he can, pure scorn spewing from his teeth. "You wanted to fuck anyone, really anybody, but me. Hm?"

In your daze, you try desperately to shake your head and disagree.

He's mocking you, so cruel as he sneers at your lack of words. "Say my name then." He hisses. "Prove it. Prove that you want me instead."

Oliver's attention snaps to Felix, a dangerously electric pressure forming in his stomach at the mere idea. He's pressing his erection into the mattress beneath, relishing the tiny amount of relief the friction brings him.

"Or did you lie?" Felix rakes his short nails over your scalp. "About what you said, hm?"

"Mh-… No." You whine, shaking your head more vigorously this time.

"Then prove it."

Through another broken moan, you call out for Felix, wincing as a wave of icy guilt laps at your heated skin. It feels so wrong to call out another's name, but judging by the way Oliver groans against your skin, he seems to be into it.

He wraps his lips around your most sensitive, swollen spot, eagerly sucking and sending shockwaves through your entire body as though he's rewarding you for it.

"Again." Felix mumbles, his voice heavy and raspy. "Say you love me."

"Felix-… fuck, ah!" Your eyes grow wide, the onset of full-bodied rapture burning away at the edges of your insides. "I love you." It's barely above a breathy stutter.

"Again." He's trembling, his fingers snaking over the curve of your throat. "Say it again."

And you do, over and over again, like a holy chant, until you feel yourself careening full-speed towards the edge of carnal abysm. Your mouth hangs open in unspoken bliss as the unwavering swell of your orgasm crashes down upon you.

Oliver hums appreciatively, closing his eyes as he revels in the feeling of you throbbing in his mouth, quivering and pulsing when he presses his tongue to it teasingly.

Greedily swallowing everything you give him, he just wishes you'd be louder—messier.

You slowly come down from the high, your ears ringing and your chest heaving as you try to force your soul back into your corporeal form. Slowly, you hear Felix's warm voice return to you as he praises you, this time with what seems to be a satisfied smile on his pretty lips.

"You did so good, baby." He purrs, a viscous taste of gluttony sticking to the sharp edges of his canine teeth. "But I'm not done with you."

You feel your heart jolt at his words.

Oliver props himself up, a pleased poise to him as he sits back and deliberately licks his lips. Chin glistening with spit and your cum.

He looks at Felix, ever the well-trained mutt, as he waits for further instructions with those big, keen puppy eyes. A profound depravity creeps right beneath the surface of his skin.

Felix gently urges you to sit up, only to turn you around and pull you onto his lap right after. His clothed hard-on presses against your bare core, eliciting a soft, strained exhale from you.

He grins at you; there is a near-sinister nature to it. "It'd be unfair if only you got to cum, wouldn't it?"

You turn back to glance at Oliver, only to be met with the eyes of unadulterated desire.

Felix cups your cheek and nudges you to face him instead again, his patience running thin. Especially when you keep moving around on top of him like this, ruthlessly teasing him, even if unintentional.

God, he wishes he could just devour you in your entirety right here and now.

Your hopes and dreams torn to shreds between his teeth, your heart and soul plummeting into the endless abyss of this newfound voracity's gaping maw. With the last echo of your vows to devotion clinging to his gullet.

It's unbearable; your eyes unspeakably pretty, and his personal definition of heaven carved into your features. It'd drive any man to insanity.

He latches onto your neck, at first placing tempting, fluttering kisses under your jaw, before quickly devolving into greedy licks and bites. Littering your collarbones in marks and hickeys as though he's laying claim on you, and in a way he is.

You hold onto his shoulders, unsure whether to recoil from the violence within his passion or to lean into it.

There's something so undeniably delicious about it; it certainly scratches an itch you've never quite been able to reach on your own.

"Ollie." He breathes. "Be a darling and fetch me the bottle of lube on my nightstand."

Oliver jumps up and skampers off without any protest, eager to witness the depravity Felix has in store for you.

His hand wanders towards your crotch, his warm palm sparking the flame anew as you rock against it. He nuzzles the crook of your neck, chuckling at your willingness. It sends vibrations through your bones, spreading to your skull like a pleasant, numbing buzz to make you forget any sort of dignity.

So dumb and so pliable, like putty in his hands.

It's almost funny how quickly you got over your anger—so quick to obey his every command.

Like a precious little whore.

Oliver bursts back into the room, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he hurries to hand over the small bottle.

Felix thanks him quietly, then tugs down the waistband of his boxers to let his dick finally spring free. The head a pretty pink as it glistens with precum, twitching ever so slightly when Felix lathers it in a good handful of lube.

You're completely enthralled, a twinge of doubt poking at the back of your mind at his size. It's quickly forgotten, though, because Felix doesn't waste any time pulling you closer and positioning you right above him.

And with a tight grip on your hips, he lowers you until the tip is pressed against your entrance. He stops to catch your lips in a sweltering, bruising kiss before impatiently pushing you down on his length, swallowing the startled moan he rips from your throat.

You're struggling to take him; he's stretching you to a near-painful amount despite the lube.

But no matter how much you whimper and ask him to slow down, he doesn't let up until he's buried all the way inside of you.

For a moment, he just lets you sit there, holding you down as he watches you writhe and breathe through the initial discomfort. He presses a few quick kisses to the edge of your jaw.

"C'mon, baby, I know you can take it." He whispers, smoothing his hand over the curve of your back. 

You nod hesitantly, letting your head drop onto his shoulder and pressing your forehead against it. He begins with a languid thrust, rubbing lazy circles on your heat to ease you through the ache, until it finally blooms into staggering pleasure.

He finds the confidence to move faster, his hips finding a rhythm and turning your winces into wanton moans and panting.

His name finds a place within the choir of sounds, like a prayer, as it mingles with the lewd slapping and squelching of skin meeting skin. Like the last raspy plead of a lamb ravaged by a beast unleashed by the sheer irresitability of its innocence, from the very beginning, you were designed to be torn in half.

Oh, you've brought this upon yourself, darling.

You lose track of time; the world around you is nothing more than the way he's hitting that oh-so-sweet spot inside of you over and over again. No stars, no sun, no moon—just Felix filling you entirely and utterly.

No heaven, no hell. All that's left is the sheen of sweat adorning your brow, spelling out a point of no return.

He's spellbound by the way your walls tighten around him, intoxicatingly warm and velvety as it threatens to dig its claws into his heart and chain it down. So addicted that he would split the planet in half with his bare hands if it meant turning this moment into an eternity.

"Tell me, baby." He pants, eyes narrowed in his delirium. "Do you think anyone else could fuck you like this? Huh? Do you think Farleigh could make you feel like this? Or Oliver?"

He peers over your shoulder at Oliver, who's made himself comfortable on the bed, sprawled out in pure relaxation as if he's watching a movie. There's no humiliation to be found within him, no shame, or a hurting ego.

No, there's only a shameless lip bite urging Felix to keep going. Do it again.

Do it more.

Louder.

Again.

Felix can't help but growl at the sight, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Fuck. Of course you're into that."

He lets his head fall back against the headboard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as his movements grow sloppier.

You're blissed out, somewhere on another plane, hurdling towards another earth-shattering orgasm. Growing closer with every push against your g-spot.

But Felix wants to hear you say it; he wants you to admit how perfect he is for you. He wants you to scream for him.

"Huh? Do you think they could do it better than me?" He grabs your face again, forcing you to look at him as he drives his cock into you with near-violent intensity.

You're a babbling mess, close to drooling as you gather your last remaining wits to force yourself to spell out anything that even remotely makes sense. Bouncing up and down, like you're nothing more than a good little fucktoy.

"No." A broken moan and a slew of pitiful mewls follow. "Only you, Felix."

With that, he finds his release devastating and rhapsodic in its sheer force. Thick, long ropes of cum spurt into you, knocking your orgasm over the edge to send it flying into you at full force.

You desperately hold onto Felix, trying to keep your grasp on reality as your vision grows bleary and you fear you might get dragged down into a fiery inferno if you let go.

It hits you in waves, sending frantic shudders through your body right up into the tips of your fingers. Leaving you to collapse fully onto Felix in its wake, your eyelids heavy and the world outside your mind faint and fuzzy around the edges.

A deep, carnal satisfaction is all that's left behind when Felix pulls out, but you're far too exhausted to even register what's happening anymore. Or maybe you're still trying to process what just happened and don't dare speak about the implications of this night.

Maybe pretending to fall asleep is your best option right now. You're tired enough to get lured in by the sweet promise of unconsciousness anyway. Sucked clean of any remaining vigour by Felix's insatiable appetite.

Oliver watches with hungry eyes as Felix's cum oozes out of you, his mouth damn near watering at the sight. He'd be more than willing to clean you up.

Felix gently lays you down on the bed, tracing the numerous marks littering your pretty skin. Pride fills his chest, thick and black, as it crashes against the insides of his lungs.

Fuck. You're finally his.

Maybe not in your mind, not yet, but he certainly has branded you as his. And you'd be a fool to believe he'll just let you walk away from this like some sort of one-time thing. 

After all, you're the sole reason he's become so monstrous in the first place. You can't just abandon your own diabolic creation as if it isn't your fault, as if you aren't the very beating heart of his wretchedness. 

His attention shifts to Oliver, a scathing warning on the precipice of his lips, until he spots the painfully obvious erection in his pants.

Felix cracks a smile, and Oliver swears time and space bend to form a halo around his head of sorts at that very moment. The world bends to his every whim, as does Oliver.

Who wouldn't?

Felix, covered in sweat, his muscles rippling with every move, crawls towards Oliver before looking up at him through those infuriatingly pretty lashes.

He'd take a knife to the fucking gut for this man.

"You need help with that, mate?"

Those godforsaken, murderously alluring eyes. Maybe Oliver can't be so sure he's really the only person to spin a web here or who is truly ensnared in whose.

But he'll gladly choke to death on it right here and now.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Part 3 coming at some point lmao!

Please consider reblogging this if you enjoyed it! Likes are very much appreciated but sadly don't do much for writers and artists on Tumblr. By reblogging, you're telling us you'd like to see more and help our work reach more people that might be interested! Thank you so much :> ♡

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

taglist

@itszzmoon @ewwwitsel @piperrrr-16 @imasimptoowth @eddiesguitarskills @xo3serenity @allbark-no-bite @proudmarauders @aryiannarae @dlmtrbl @its-toothpaste-with-crack-in-it @dumbassbitch2000 @iwritefanficnotprophecies @maybehaps @soocore @cinnamongirll-444 @iloved1lfs0 @fullyatsimping @jam1esl0v4 @wrenspromisedland @whicked-hazlatwhore @shelby-fangirl00 @ronnika409 @twglitching @cicithemess @null4ndv0id @etfrin @filmfanaticsblog @1950schick @psychoenergy

let me know if I missed you or if you'd like to be removed &lt;3

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

24.01.24

[shelby-fangirl00]

[shelby-fangirl00]

CILLIAN MURPHY live from Critics Choice Awards 2024 (Jan. 14, 2024)

[shelby-fangirl00]

⋆ eat your young pt. 1

Felix Catton x gn!reader x Oliver Quick - 18+ mdni

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

They dangle on the leash of their own longing; their need grows teeth

warnings: smutty, nsft/nsfw, Oliver and Felix being creepy, mild somnophilia, non-con participation in masturbation, Felix jerks off, reader gets relentlessly objectified, dark themes, sexual fantasies, mentions of oral sex, mentions of cum, mentions of crying during sex, Oliver and Felix both want to make you their plaything, reader gets ejaculated on lmao, reader is implied to be shorter than Felix, 18+ MDNI

note: whew, baby. I genuinely like this one, and I hope you guys do too :> There'll be a second part involving the much anticipated threesome tee-hee. male!reader version here

wc: 3.5k

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Midnight draws closer, the world around the castle long swallowed by complete blackness. As though the only things to remain are its cold walls and the surrounding gardens, guarded by the looming beast at the labyrinth's heart.

Warm light spills through the crack in Felix’s bedroom door, casting an amber glow onto the hallway's floorboards outside. At its edge, with his head resting on the wooden door frame, stands Oliver.

Shrouded by the night's darkness, his eyes fixate on your figures lounging on the bed. A fiery glint within them, like a flame licking at the sight in front of him. Burning him from the inside out.

It nearly scorches the surrounding air, illuminating the corridors in a hellish red—or maybe that’s just Oliver’s mind playing tricks on him.

He rolls his shoulders back, muscles flexing and twitching beneath the thin fabric of his tank top.

You and Felix are both half bare, sprawled out across the bedsheets in underwear due to the merciless summer heat. The two of you are making sure to keep your banter hushed and giggle into the pillows to avoid waking the others.

But Oliver knows you want to be watched; that's why you left the door open after all. To lure him in, like a lone moth begging a bright, shimmering light to swallow it whole.

And it worked; you have his full, undivided attention now. You've sparked a ravenous, horrifying hunger deep within him. A need to belong, to join. To burrow his way in between the cracks and crevices of the castle walls.

He watches you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter as Felix just leans back, a satisfied grin on his face. It’s a picturesque sight, really, the both of you lazily draped over Felix’s bed.

So effortlessly beautiful and utterly mesmerizing as dim, golden light bathes your bodies.

He should've known that, where Felix resides, he was bound to find more gorgeous people. But he could've never imagined that someone could match Felix's mind-bending ethereality.

Venetia's best friend, so sweet and astoundingly kind, but more than often found at Felix's side instead of hers.

Oliver almost feels bad for her, but he's not certain that it's a conscious decision on your part. Felix has a way of wrapping people around his finger with seductive ease. Perhaps Venetia has less of a say in your visit than everyone lets on.

"Oh, I stay here every summer." You showed him around the premises along with Felix, excited to meet his new friend.

"It's always been like that." He nodded, playfully nudging you. "Part of the family at this point."

Maybe that is what is so inescapably intriguing about you. You've managed to carve your name into the castle's foundation and remain an anomaly among the countless faces that come and go.

There's something about you that has somehow allowed you to stay. 

So, Oliver naturally came to the conclusion that you were one of the missing pieces within his puzzle. The one thing to grant him fulfilment and bridge the gap between him and Felix. So useful and so sweet.

After all, he sees the way Felix looks at you, even if you may not notice. Glances that linger far too long, dopey smiles, and a feverish intensity in Felix’s gaze he’s never seen before. Sorely out of place among those angelic features, almost alien.

"Just make yourself at home." You'd both smiled so sweetly when you said it that Oliver could barely sleep that first night. Your presence quickly clawing its way into his consciousness to join Felix on his throne.

Haunting his dreams hand-in-hand, even during waking hours, it's unbearable—hours upon hours of pitiful fantasizing about you and Felix. He wishes you'd both just give in and accept that intrinsic craving gnawing at your bones.

Just let go and devour each other, as it should be. How delicious it'd be to watch you two press against each other, glistening with sweat and whispering filth, as teeth sink into skin in relentless fervour.

What a spectacle it'd be. He feels dizzy just thinking about it.

Your sweet face stained with hot tears as Felix pounds into you, and Oliver tenderly wipes them away to lick them off his fingers. His thumb in your mouth, your lips wrapping around it as you whimper and whine, looking up at him through your lashes. God, it'd be the death of him. 

He wants—no, he needs—for it to become reality. Otherwise, he'll really go mad in this godforsaken place. Oliver's eyes flutter shut as he palms his painfully hard erection through his flimsy boxers. 

Well, they're actually Felix's, but what does it really mean for something to belong to someone? Surely, Felix wouldn't mind sharing something as miniscule as underwear if he already so graciously took Oliver in for the summer, right?

He won't realize they're gone anyway, so who's to say Oliver can't indulge himself? He's here to enjoy his summer break after all and share with you all.

You wear Felix's clothes all the time, so who can really blame him for following suit? He just wants to fit in, really.

He slinks away from the doorway, silently skittering back to his own bedroom to settle in for what is ultimately bound to be another long night for poor old, lovesick Oliver. 

You two are wrecking him, reducing him to a needy, clingy mess.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Felix leans against the edge of the open window, revelling in the cool night breeze caressing his skin. A sloppily rolled joint is loosely clasped between his index and middle fingers as he stares into the blackness outside.

He takes a slow, absentminded drag from it, holding the smoke in until it makes his throat itch. He blows it into the wind and lets it get carried away, disappearing into the night. 

Hopefully, the smell doesn't wake you up; he'd hate to disturb you when you look so serene, your chest rising with measured breaths as you cradle his pillow. It's cute—unbearably so.

Felix swallows thickly; shame burns in his chest as he tries to suffocate the thoughts with another deliberate drag. It's all futile, though; he's been trying to will these feelings away for years now, with no hope for success. You're just so sweet and so irritatingly platonic in the way you act towards him.

It drives him up the fucking wall.

Everybody wants him; people bend over backwards and throw themselves head first into self-destruction to get a mere sliver of his attention, and you just got him wrapped around your finger since the first time he laid eyes on you as a kid.

You're entirely inescapable. 

Usually, being so used to getting every last one of his needs and desires fulfilled, someone playing hard to get just plain kills his interest. Why should he fight for someone's interest when there are countless hot people practically pouncing on him?

All he has to do is snap his fingers, and he gets some cute guy sucking his dick or multiple chicks littering his neck in love bites. Never once in his life did he have to beg for someone to covet him. 

Except for you. Unattainable in a world in which he gets everything he could ever possibly ask for. The sheer cruelty of it all is enough to strip him of any rationale.

Every person he fucks ultimately reminds him of you. Whether it's the way they look up at him, as if he's holy, or the manner in which they say his name, it all just leads back to you, and he can't fucking break free from the chokehold you got him in. 

He doesn't even remember their faces; they're all blurred by his sheer need to replace them with you. All of them sound like you in his head, crying out his name and begging him to slow down. 

He takes another drag, groaning at the heat pooling in his abdomen.

It doesn't matter how many people he sleeps with or how many people bend to his every will, because none of them are you. And he's slowly growing insatiable, itching and aching to feel you and to taste you.

Adoration grows teeth and claws, boiling over and oozing down over his deprived heart to singe it with obsession. 

You shift in your sleep, sighing blissfully. He watches your shirt ride up—his shirt—to expose more and more of your soft skin.

Is the universe testing him? Could the dear devil himself be tempting him to complete his transformation into the horrible monster he so longs to be right now?

And you're wearing his boxers too, too exhausted to run back to your room to grab your own. So, of course, Felix offered his clothes. Because he's kind, and perhaps because it's truly a precious sight to behold.

He licks his lips, his darkened eyes fixated on the way they hug your hips and thighs. As if they're made for you, not for him.

There's a part of him that never wants to wash them, preserve your smell, and bury his face in them.

He's done it before, but he's still riddled by the guilt he felt after cumming on a pair of tight briefs you'd borrowed from him. It was the hardest he'd ever climaxed, though, and he simply can't get rid of the urge to do it again.

He chews on his lower lip, the joint in his hand now completely forgotten as his shorts grow unbearably tight. A warm, fuzzy feeling crawls down his neck and along the expanse of his shoulders. His judgement being clouded by the weed.

It's almost painful to be so close to you in such a vulnerable state.

What have you done to him?

It's all too much for him—the anguish from restraining himself in such a way is excruciating at this point. Something animalistic lingers beneath his skin, snarling and scratching at his bones to break free. So eager and so monstrous.

He quietly walks over to the bed, careful not to rouse you. Completely silent as he looms over you, tall, larger than life, and shrouded in darkness. If he wanted to, he could so easily overpower you and make you his right here and now. 

But that's not the point.

He wants you to choose him and to crave him like all the others. The only way he'll be satisfied is if you beg and tear yourself apart for him, just as he does for you every night. He wants you to crack your rib cage open to offer him your heart, still beating and oozing blood. 

The mattress dips beneath his weight when he reassumes his position next to you, his large frame easily filling the free space and almost curving around yours. For a few moments, he just lies there, savouring the feeling of casually sharing a bed with you, the proximity, and its near domestic idyll. Tracing your features with his eyes in complete adoration.

Would you wake up if he tried to wrap his arm around your waist? He so desperately wants to hold you close, breathe in your scent, and never let go. Maybe waking up cradled within Felix's arms would finally make you realize how seamlessly you two fit together. 

How perfect he is for you.

You shift in your sleep, dragging the hem of your shirt further upwards in what Felix assumes is an instinctual attempt to keep yourself from overheating.

Oh, you poor thing.

He hesitates for a second, reaching out his hand and letting it hover above the bunched-up fabric before gently freeing your entire torso. Merely to help you cool off, of course. He wouldn't want you to feel all sticky and gross in the morning from sweating all night.

Well, it depends on what kind of sweating. Ew, gross, Felix. Don't think about that, he winces.

Nonetheless, he lets his fingers ghost over your stomach, softly tracing the boxers' waistband. Fuck, he just can't keep his mind clean with you looking like this.

He sucks in a quiet breath through his teeth before shakily pressing his warm palm to your crotch and rubbing up against it ever so slightly.

Your breathing falters for just a moment, a weak mewl falling from your lips at the welcome pressure. Felix nearly groans when you unconsciously buck your hips into his hand to chase after the pleasant feeling.

Felix Catton is a weak man, quick to indulge in his compulsions, especially when it comes to you. You're like that one crack in the dam, threatening to split it open and flood the lands of composure in him with pure, shameless debauchery.

He spits onto his other hand, swiftly slipping it underneath his own waistband and wrapping it around his agonizingly hard dick. Fuck, the things he'd do to you if you just let him.

The heat radiating off you crawls up his arm, making his hair stand up and sending waves of white-hot need washing over him. This is so wrong, so utterly wrong in every way, but fuck, it feels so good.

He simply can't find it within him to stop, far too spellbound by the way your brows furrow when he lets his fingers run along over your core.

He laps up every sleepy whimper and gasp he pulls from you, biting his tongue to keep his own moans from spilling out.

Though he can't help but let his mouth hang open when he pictures your plush lips wrapped around his girth, your eyes big and so full of adoration as you look up at him. Tears stream down your face as he fucks your face, hitting the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow every last drop of his cum. 

You'd be so, so good for him. 

Felix lets his head fall back against his headboard, drawing blood from biting down on his lower lip in a desperate attempt to stay silent as he releases all over his fist.

A coppery taste spreads throughout his mouth, but he's too dazed to care. Mindlessly observing the wet spot on his underwear, it grows larger as he catches his breath.

God, he made such a mess. 

He pulls his hand out from beneath, spreading his fingers to watch the cloudy, viscous fluid stretch between them. 

He watches it glisten in the dim light before leaning over and carefully smearing it on your waist, drawing a heart shape as though he's simply doodling in a notebook. His thumb gently digs into your flesh, trying to massage it in.

Ultimately, though, you'll seemingly be waking up feeling a bit sticky after all. Hopefully, you won't question it too much, or he might have to come up with some sort of lie.

Good thing Felix lies with a vexing, graceful ease.

Felix wriggles the soiled boxers off, carelessly tossing them into one of the room's corners, and lifts himself off the bed to grab a fresh pair. He looks over his shoulder, making sure you're still fast asleep as he slips them on.

You haven't even moved an inch.

He smiles, amused and comforted by your ability to sleep through all that. He should be feeling deeply ashamed, ablaze with the flame of gut-wrenching remorse, but he doesn't. 

Instead, his appetite has just grown ever more ferocious. As if someone has released him from the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles. Itching to get more, feel more. He's growing greedy. He's merely had a lick of what could be, savouring its heavenly taste on the back of his tongue.

For tonight, though, he'll let you rest. He wouldn't want to rob you of your beauty sleep. Not yet, at least.

Those nights will come, and he'll make sure of them.

Felix makes sure to keep the window open, crawling back into bed with you to settle in with his chest pressed to your side and his arm languidly slung over you. Your quiet snores softly lull him to sleep with a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

He'll have you caged in between his arms soon enough; just you wait, darling.

Such a beautiful, tranquil summer night, he muses.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Oliver feels as though the sun has grown even harsher, grilling him alive as he tries to get comfortable on the crickety deck chair. They're not very luxurious—a very noticeable exception among the obscenely extravagant furniture inside the Catton estate.

But, nonetheless, they're still quite cosy; the problem is how tense and jumpy Oliver himself is at the moment.

You're lounging in one of the ponds, skin wet and glistening in the late afternoon sun, as you casually chitchat with Venetia and Farleigh. All three of you stretched out on your apparently designated pool floats.

Farleigh nearly caved Oliver's head in when he tried grabbing his. Lesson learned. So, like the sweetheart you are, you generously offered him yours that day. 

"Don't be afraid to grab it whenever you'd like too. I don't mind at all." You smiled at him, and Oliver swears a halo encircled your head then. "Doesn't really belong to me anyway."

Oh, but it does. Because they all adore you, and he's sure if you merely asked, they'd buy hundreds of those pool floats without batting an eye.

Elspeth cooed over you just this morning, going on and on about how wonderful you look today. And you do, of course, but it's just so curious to see the Cattons so enamoured with some common person. She's totally infatuated with you.

Could it be that, with time, they simply forgot that you're not really one of them? Felix did say you're part of the family at this point, whatever that means to people like him.

Oliver lets his gaze wander the length of your legs. Your feet dipped into the cool water, your head leaning back and your sunglasses sitting on top of your nose, threatening to slip off any second now.

Farleigh, the whole reason he's been feeling so fidgety today, shoots you a mischievous smirk before splashing you with a handful of pond water. You yelp, nearly tipping your float over from the icy shock.

He chuckles at your reaction, which sounds how sandpaper scratching against Oliver's brain would probably feel like. Grating and violence-inducing. 

As soon as you regain your composure, you move to return the favour, but with two handfuls. Farleigh gasps in mock offence, jumping off his float to wade over to you as you laugh and shout at him to fuck off. 

Oliver purses his lips, scowling at the playful scene unfolding in front of him. He looks at Felix, dozing in the chair next to him, with the book he's been pretending to read all summer resting on his belly.

He chews at the inside of his cheek, a malicious idea suddenly popping into his pretty head. 

He nudges Felix, who lifts his head to drowsily raise his brows at him. "'S matter?" He mumbles.

Oliver, as nonchalantly as he can muster, nods his head in your direction before setting his little plan in motion. Big, innocent eyes as he peers at Felix.

"Seems like Farleigh got himself a little crush, eh?"

"What?" Felix's brows knit in confusion before he peeks over the rim of his Ray-Bans to see Farleigh shove you off the pool float and into the pond. 

A huge, goofy smile is on your attacker's face as he watches you resurface. Your face lights up with an unbridled but light-hearted thirst for revenge. Farleigh is quick to play along, pretending to fear his impending doom as he allows you to chase him out of the water and across the chalet gardens.

Both of you are giggling and squealing like children; it's sickening.

Oliver notices Felix's leg begin to bounce up and down impatiently, his jaw tensing when you tackle Farleigh to the ground. You laugh when he pokes your side to escape your clutches.

It's a horribly childish display, really. And entirely unnecessary. 

Felix nearly seethes, his chest rising and falling in tandem with an agitated sigh. Oh, is that jealousy Oliver's smelling?

Putrid and foul as it pollutes the air around the two of them, like toxic fumes rising from their pores. Their skin almost turns green from their relentless loathing, with half a mind to gruffly put a stop to your games.

"You really think so, mate?"

"Sure looks like it, doesn't it?" Oliver mutters, a theatrically naive lilt to his voice.

Felix just hums in response, bitterness and disgust written all over his otherwise flawless features. Plush lips contorted into a vague frown as he silently lights a cigarette.

Oliver turns away, pretending to yawn, in an attempt to conceal the pleased smile on his face. 

He just managed to successfully plant the seed of resentment and faux competition deep within Felix's mind. And he knows Felix can't stand not getting what he wants, much less when it comes to losing to Farleigh out of all people.

There's something about facing defeat when it's at the hands of someone you've deemed trustworthy your entire life.

If he could, Oliver would absolutely pat himself on the shoulder right now. Excellent work, mate. One step closer to achieving his goal.

And you're ever clueless to the web Oliver's silently and meticulously stringing up around you and Felix, wrapping his string around your neck and leaving you both none the wiser.

This might be easier than Oliver expected.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

Part 2 coming soon :> !!

Please consider reblogging this if you enjoyed it! Likes are very much appreciated but sadly don't do much for writers and artists on Tumblr. By reblogging, you're telling us you'd like to see more and help our work reach more people that might be interested! Thank you so much :> ♡

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

11.01.2024

[shelby-fangirl00]

Hunting You-part one

•A successful assassin from London named Penny is hired to travel to Small Heath and kill Thomas Shelby. (Don’t want to give too much away tehe)

•WARNINGS(18+, minors DNI): Enemies to lovers, Dual POV, Smut (in future chapters), Lots of angst, Strong language, Lots of violence

•Authors note: hey y’all! This story has been brewing in my mind for some time.This part is kind of an introduction to my story. Reblog if you enjoy:) Next part will be in Tommy’s POV.

Penny

I checked my watch every few minutes for what seemed like an eternity. Plopping my elbows on the wooden table top, I huffed loudly. According to the dick who hired me, Shelby should’ve been here hours ago. Honestly, I didn’t mind waiting, since I was paid in advance, but my fingers still twitched in anticipation, eager to finally get my hands dirty again.

This was an ordinary night for me, except for the part where I had to travel into this piss poor town. Under any other circumstance, I would have told the man who hired me to fuck off. But how could I refuse such a hefty wage? Anyways, doing this out of town work only makes my job easier. At least that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Nobody here seems sober enough to remember gossip about a hitman. Let alone talk of a random woman in a pub.

Killing Thomas Shelby will definitely make waves Small Heath, but thats not my problem. I’d be gone before sun rise. Talks of a female assassin surely hadn’t traveled to this poor drunken town anyways. It’ll be as if I was never here.

I nurse my glass of whiskey. Just as the rim of the glass touches my lips, I pull out the very dated photograph of Mr.Shelby I was given. I imagine he was just a boy in the photo. He appears to be in uniform and my chest tightens at the thought. I can only imagine the horrors he’s seen since this was taken. It wouldn’t surprise me if the man today doesn’t resemble this photograph at all.

The doors open for the first time in an hour and I hear the booming laughter before I see the lot of them. A large group of nicely dressed men in caps waltz in and I assume this to be the notorious Peaky Blinders. Of course I did some research before coming here. They were feared throughout this place. Known to be unforgiving and ruthless. This Shelby man I’m sure is a sick and twisted bastard. All the best men I know are. I myself am a bit sick and twisted.

Hiring a female hitman, like myself, had different perks. It’s far easier for a woman to get close to a man they don’t know. They don’t see us in the same light. We come off as less of a threat. In my experience, no man is immune to the powers a beautiful woman can possess over a man, in the right circumstances. Thomas Shelby couldn’t be any different from the rest of them.

I straightened my back and fell into the role I’d been assigned. My long black dress hugs my waist and my thigh is bare under the slit of my gown.

My eyes search for someone loosely similar to the photograph, maybe with a beard and some extra weight, but there’s so many men now crowding my view. Eventually, I hear a loud voice yell for a “Tommy.”

Gotcha.

The men seem to part perfectly and I have a clear view of him. I see the not-so-young-boy who grew into this apparently fearsome man.

My blood runs cold and I curse under my breath. To put it plainly, the man is fucking gorgeous. His stature radiates confidence while his presence demands respect.

He’s aged nicely, his cheekbones even more pronounced now. Even from my small booth in the corner, I notice his dazzling blue eyes. Out of all the men here, why did it have to be this one? Most of the men I’m hired to kill are assholes who don’t deserve to see the sun again. I hope he’s the same.

I beeline to a nearby group of drunk and smelly men. I pretend to walk past them and “trip,” over one of the chairs, spilling my whiskey out onto an old man’s shoulder.

“Stupid bitch!” The man attempts to stand up and almost falls on his ass. I try to muffle my laughter. I wish I could kill this one too, it would be too easy.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” I plead with him and he finally steps closer to me, trapping my body against another table. His stench is repulsive and it takes every bit of willpower inside of me not to put a bullet through this fuckers head. I momentarily get lost in the thought, his greasy face would downturn and the life would drain from his angry expression before he dropped dead.

My hands press down into the table as he spits at me. He grabs my wrist tightly before speaking again.

“You’ll fuckin pay for that, girl. Why don’t you join me and-

A hand covers the man’s shoulder, squeezing harshly before speaking. As if the man has eyes in the back of his head, he freezes and turns slowly, like he knows exactly who the hand on his shoulder belongs to.

“Alright, Tim?” A low but smooth voice asks. My breath hitches in my throat and I don’t really need to pretend how scared I am anymore.

“Of course, Mr.Shelby. Just teaching this one a lesson in manners.” The big oaf states confidently.

For the first time, Mr.Shelby’s eyes lock with mine and I suddenly forgot how to breath or blink or function at all. He’s even more stunning this closeup. He examines me for an uncomfortable amount of time before speaking again.

“I don’t think that’ll be nessacary Timmy. Why don’t you go back to your table and let me handle it?” This Tim man peaks at Tommy from behind his shoulder and I can tell this is an order. Tim finally releases my wrist and grunts, giving me one last look that makes me feel dirty, and stumbles off.

I exhale loudly, pretending to finally relax.

“Thank you, sir. I was worried I wouldn’t get out of that one.” I stated, chuckling lightly under my breath.

“No trouble, Tim’s an angry drunk. He won’t remember ya tomorrow.” His words sit in the air between us awkwardly before I decide to speak again.

“I’m Nora.” I lie.

I stick my hand out and smile stupidly. This takes him back but he recovers quickly, smirking and pressing his hand in mine firmly.

“Tommy. You aren’t from here…don’t tell me you actually moved to Small Heath on your own free will.” He chuckles darkly, placing his half empty glass between his lips and searching my eyes for an answer. He looks similar to the picture, more dead in the eyes now. No less mesmerizing.

I laugh. “Thankfully, no. I’m just here visiting an old friend. How’d you know?” I place my own glass to my lips now, scanning the room behind him.

He smirks, finally letting his eyes drop for a split second to my chest.

Shrugging his shoulders plainly, he states, “It’s a small town and I’ve lived here me whole life. I would’ve known if someone like you lived here.”

My eyebrows arch in question. “Someone like me, yeh?”

He smiles slowly, but it’s dark, almost like a warning. I don’t understand why I’m suddenly so clammy?

I need to get this over with. My body is betraying me, because all I can think about are his lips and how they would feel on mine and what his chest looks like underneath all those damn layers.

Giving in only slightly to my body’s demands, I take one big step into him, putting my chest inches from his own. I look up at him with a dazzling smile, and he just smirks. Does he always have that smug fucking look on?

“Well thank you for saving me, Tommy.” His eyebrows shoot up in what I’m assuming is surprise?

“Another whiskey?” He asks, stepping past me towards the bar and nodding to the barman.

I take in his stature beside me, leaning his forearms against the long bar. As much as I would love to entertain this handsome stranger, I had a job to do.

I squeeze his shoulder, leaning into him so my lips barely touch his ear.

“Excuse my forwardness, but I’d rather take you back to my flat, Tommy.” I squeeze his shoulder one last time before stepping back.

He cranes his neck to look behind him at I don’t know what before returning back to me.

“I like forward. Lead the way, love.” Finally, this can end.

“Of course…” I say sheepishly and he doesn’t hesitate to follow closely behind, his hand resting on my lower back. The sensation sends a shiver up my spine.

As we trot outside, he moves his hand from my back to behind his own and i do the same. I silently acknowledge the few daggers I have hidden in my stockings along with the gun in my purse….aaaaaand maybe a few razor blades underneath my pinned updo. It’s just a precaution, really. I can never be too safe. Plus, it’s fun to switch it up every once and a while.

“Where ya staying?” He asks smoothly as we round the dark corner.

“Just across the p- the air is quickly swept from my lungs as Thomas grabs me from behind and slams my body against a brick wall. I gasp as both of his hands wrap around my throat and he never stops squeezing.

Fuck. He knows.

Panic sets in and I’m clawing at his arms desperately. I try to maneuver my legs in order to knee him, but his body is flush against my own.

“thought it be that easy to kill me? You’re at the back of a long line, love.”

I muster up enough rage in my throat to spit out a “fuck you.”

My hands could only reach his side, so I wail on him. As soon as my punch lands, I feel another pair of hands on me, pinning my arms over my head. Thomas bends for only a few seconds before spitting and regaining hold over me.

I look over to see the other man pinning me against the wall. He’s younger than Thomas, but sporting a similar smirk.

If I don’t finish this job, Tommy will kill me. And if he doesn’t, the man who hired me would. Especially after being paid in advance.

I felt myself slipping from the lack of oxygen. But just as I closed my eyes, Tommy released me but the other man stays put to my side, his hands tighten around my wrists and his chest is pressing into my arm.

Tommy turns back around, adjusting his coat and lighting a cigarette before examining my flesh, the way my dress had fallen open at my chest during our scuffle.

“Who hired you?” He asked plainly.

My chest was heaving and I swear his eyes followed the movement for a split second.

“How should I fucking know? A man overpays me in advance for a hit and I don’t ask questions.”

The man holding my body hostage against the brick wall, bellows out an annoying laugh but Tommy doesn’t so much as smirk.

He sighs before reaching inside of his coat and pointing the barrel of his gun at me.

I giggle, cocking my head and studying him now. “You ever killed a woman, Mr.Shelby?”

“Enough. Tell me his name or I’ll put a bullet between those pretty eyes.” He says, almost softly, like he’s seducing me instead of trying to kill me. I hate how my thighs clench together and my nipples harden under my dress. All this foreplay tonight between the gun, the two angry men holding me against a wall and a touch of breath play.

“Promise?” I don’t know how, but I knew he wouldn’t shoot.

He sticks his gun back into his holster from underneath his coat before speaking again.

“John, put her to sleep and tie her up.” And before I could even protest, the man’s hands move from my wrists to around my skull, slamming it into the brick wall. Everything goes black. I never stood a chance.

Part two coming soon in Tommy’s POV!

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