#dark tommy

[storywriter007]

Run as Fast as You Can - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n realizes thomas shelby is not the man she thought he was

warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, gun use, domestic violence, yelling, abuse. just really dark.

genre: angst

word count: 1.5k

-> peaky blinders masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

she loved tommy, she really did.

but, sometimes, she remembered all the warnings about him.

"thomas? that man's crazy!" the parlor-lady said.

"shelby! sweetheart, you're barely drinking age! what the hell are you doing with a grown-man?" her mother shamed.

"thomas shelby? run as fast as you can." the shop lady warned.

she was 21, so of course she ignored their stupid warnings. they were stupid, after all. to her, tommy was kind, he was smart, and he was caring. he wasn't the big bad guy everyone had made him out to be. why was a man dictated by the ideas everyone had of him instead of who he was?

y/n and tommy had met at a bar in london. y/n was working, and he was buying. they hit it off. why wouldn't they? she was young, ambitious, wide-eyed, kind, and excited. of course, he'd like her.

the first three months, everything was perfect. he was so gentle with her. he never yelled or got angry. he always brought her flowers. they were always flirting. she would often go to his office and just sit with him while he did hours of work.

but after the three month mark, y/n realized she should've listened to all of the warnings. she should've never, ever, messed around with thomas fucking shelby.

now, every disagreement they had came back to their age.

"you're too naive, y/n."

he'd say, over and over again.

"you don't know these people like i do."

he'd continue.

"you're so immature. i thought you were a lady, not a little girl."

and every time, y/n went to bed crying. she had no idea where this mean tommy came from, but she wanted him gone. so, she did what every reasonable woman would do.

"tommy, i want to break up." she said, shakily.

he reached towards his desk drawer and pulled out a gun. he came towards her and held it to her head. she was young, she was naive, she was stupid.

"don't be stupid, sweetheart. you love me." he said, his finger resting on the trigger. "i don't want to put a bullet in your head. don't make me."

that was the first time tommy had ever threatened to hurt her. that was the first time he used his power on her. that wouldn't be the last.

now, y/n woke up in the cold bed of tommy's, all alone. they'd gotten into a fight the night before, of course they had.

"don't even think about touching that fucking door!" he screamed.

tommy was so protective of that room. he got pissed when y/n accidentally touched the door handle, thinking it was the washroom.

the next thing she remembered was a strike across her face. she held her cheek and tears began to fall.

"don't touch me." she said through tears, backing up as tommy came closer to her.

"don't be like that sweetheart. i mean, you pissed me off. come here, don't be like that."

now she was weeping as he held her head to his chest and ran his fingers through her hair.

"i know you're young and you do stupid things. i did too when i was your age."

god, he made her feel so stupid.

he gave her whiskey for the pain. and now, she laid in a bed that wasn't her own. now, she had a small bruise on her cheek. now, she really wanted to know what was in that room.

she loved tommy. she really did. she knew if he caught her, he'd kill her. but he loved her too, right? he surely wouldn't. he was on a business trip all day, he wouldn't ever find out.

so y/n walked into the room that tommy had forbade her from every stepping foot in. she quietly opened the door as she looked around.

it wasn't anything special. there was a bed, that was messy and unmade. there was a dresser, with jewelry on it. there were some clothes in the closet. nothing else. nothing unusual. y/n walked straight out, wondering why the hell tommy didn't want her in that room.

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tommy had finally come back home after being out all day. y/n was in the living room when he came in. she didn't say hello. she still had a bruise on her face.

they sat down to eat dinner. it was silent.

"how was your day?" she asked, hating the silence.

she remembered how they used to talk for hours.

"good." he said, briefly. "yours?"

"good." she said, too. "what'd you do?"

"business."

"were any of your brothers there? oo, did you meet anyone cool?" she asked, with a smile.

"no." he said, annoyed.

she quieted down, and finished her plate without uttering another word. he got up to go to the kitchen, and y/n noticed something fell out of his pocket.

she picked it up. it was a photo. a photo of him and another woman. she had blonde hair and blue eyes. they were smiling, and he looked so happy. he came back, and she handed the photo to him.

"you dropped this." she said, naively.

he chuckled. "thank you."

he placed the picture back in his pocket. y/n thought it was a picture of an old friend, maybe a friend who'd passed away. tommy had never mentioned another women to her, she didn't think it would be another girlfriend.

"who is she?" y/n asked. "she's real pretty-"

"shut up." he said. "you don't need ask questions about everything ya see."

she held back tears.

"i just wanted to know who she was, i didn't mean to make you mad-" y/n started.

"if you didn't want to make me mad, you wouldn't have fucking asked!" he yelled.

"why are you always yelling at me!" she asked, trying her hardest not to cry.

"because you're always doing something wrong!"

"i'm walking on ice around you all the time!" she said back. "you don't have to be so mean!"

he walked up to her, and she backed up. he grabbed her face in his hands.

"that's not mean, sweetheart. i can show you what mean is."

he let her go, throwing her back a bit as she left. the photo fell from his pocket once again as her stormed off. she picked it up, and this time turned it around.

grace, my love, my life.

she felt her heart shatter. who was grace?

"who's grace, tommy?" she whispered.

he heard her.

"what the fuck did you just say?" he asked, turning around, and slowly coming closer to the young girl.

"who's grace?" she said, again.

he poured himself a cup of whiskey. he drank it, while chuckling.

"tommy?"

he chucked the glass at her head. luckily, y/n ducked just in time.

"don't ever say her name!" he yelled, clearly now furious. she'd never seen him this mad before.

"my love? my life? tommy, is she your wife!" she asked.

"shut up! shut up! shut up! shut up!" he said angrily, walking towards her.

it all made sense now. tommy was married to grace.

"is that why you won't let me in that room! because-" she said. "because that used to be your guys' room!"

he came towards her, anger coursing through his veins. she backed up, slowly going up the stairs.

"i saw it tommy! i went in there!" she said.

"you did what?" he screamed. "you went in there? you fucking went in there?"

"stop it. stop it. stop!" she begged. "i'm scared, tommy, stop."

she was pushed up against the door of his room which she was allowed in. tears streamed down her face.

"i love her!" tommy yelled angrily, taking y/n's body off the door frame to slam her into it. "don't fucking talk about her!"

love her he said. he didn't say loved her.

"what do you mean you love her! you're supposed to love me!" y/n asked, through fear and tears.

"you're far to immature to understand what love is!" he screamed.

he pulled a gun from his pocket and held it to her head.

"why the hell were you snooping around that room!"

"because i was curious!" she cried.

"your curiosity is going to get you killed!" he raged once more, holding the gun to her head again.

"tommy, stop. stop, stop!" she screamed through tears.

his finger rested on the trigger, and now, it seemed as if he really wanted to kill her.

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'm sorry!" she profusely apologized.

he just slammed her into the door frame again.

"shut up!" he said.

y/n kneed him, and ran. he chased after her.

"y/n, don't you fucking walk out that door!" he yelled. "don't you fucking do it!"

she ran out the door. the cold night was safer than his home. he ran out the door too and fired a shot into the air. terrified, y/n ran faster.

she should've listened. she should've listened to everyone. she should've listened to their warnings.

she should've listened to them when they said to run as fast as you can.

[tommyshelby87]

SNIPPET PEAKY BLINDERS FIC

Hi everyone,

I am writing a Peaky Blinders fic and its not done by a long shot, but I wanted to hear what you guys think. I'd be very honored if you could take the time to read and let me know what you think <3

Evelyn is very heavily based on Rachel Weisz's character from The Mummy, but with my own twist to it. Warning: dark Tommy at times, he may be a little darker than on the show, but I do think that it makes sense as a whole.

I'm tagging some people at the end, do let me know if you want to be added or removed from my taglist <3

Premise:

Thomas Shelby and Evelyn Carnahan are set for an arranged marriage. Evelyn's father is in financial trouble and Thomas is looking for a mother for Charlie, after Grace's passing. Is this a disaster in the making? Or can the bookish Evelyn find a way to the ruthless gangsters heart? Lets find out.

“So. Evelyn. Are you any good with children?” Thomas Shelby asked in a gruff manner, his low voice rumbling as he eyed the woman across from him up and down. His blue eyes took in every little detail, as if she were prey in his grasp. “I have a son, Charlie. You'll need to take care of him.” Evelyn stared back at him wide-eyed, her hands neatly folded on her long beige skirt. Her simple white striped blouse formed a strong contrast to the wealth around her, especially emphasized by the plain black scarf that decorated her neck. Her small black glasses were high up on her nose, but occasionally slid down, revealing her light-brown eyes. Her brown curls were done up in a practical bun, a few loose curls framing her face. All in all she looked far too sweet and conservative to even be in this well-off mansion, with the leader of the Peaky Blinders. He took out a cigarette, raising a bored brow at this mousy little creature. “I was hoping that a nanny would be an option for your boy.” she hesitantly stated. “And you may call me Evie for short, all my friends do,” she added, warmly. He raises a brow and chuckles some, sending her a rather arrogant gaze. “A nanny? Well then, do enlighten me..Evelyn” he asked, his tone laced with venom. As he did, he lit his cigarette and inhaled. Evie was taken aback by his cold demeanour, even while she did her best to be pleasant. But she swallowed hard and tried to explain her predicament, in a shaky voice. “Yes, well, I work, you see. And while I'm at work, I wont be able to look after little Charlie, so...” she tried to explain. Thomas blew a puff of smoke in her direction, staring her down intently. “You don't work as my wife.” “Well, you see, I've had this job for so long, I love it so, I do not wish to give it up.”  “You don't work. As my wife,” he repeated, gesturing at her with the cigarette bud between his fingers. When she opened her mouth to protest again, he blew another cloud of smoke her way, smirking lightly. Evelyn gasped at the rude gesture and got up from her seat. “What did you do that for? It's disgusting. And yes, I will keep my job, thank you.” “Sit down.” Evelyn stared at him, no idea what this rude man was ordering her around for.

Taglist:

@cillianscupid @duckietie @novashelby @furious-mangomango @beastofburdenxo @maeplaysbass @forgottenpeakywriter @nojustnobro @xxiamtiebrousxx @wonderlanddreamer @anukulee

[bedrockbones]

Dark SBI murder au but Tommy's both the murder and the little shit

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it ///not accepting

tommys first kill had been an accident. it was a school bully who had pushed and pushed and pushed. they boy had seen tommy as an easy target. the foster kid. the transfer. the one with no friends and no allies. months of torment all came to a head when the boy had chased tommy halfway home after school until tommy decided...why is he running? he...doesnt really remember the fight. but he comes back to himself with a rock in his hand, the edge of it wet with blood and a still warm body by his feet he expects, as he hides the body, for the guilt or terror or shame to set in. it never does. all tommy feels is relieved. even- he feels good even. tommy realizes he doesnt have to be prey anymore. he could be the predator

he gets a new placement a few months later (no one ever finds the body. a nearby construction site with still drying cement takes care of that problem) and he starts experimenting. the thing is- all the cool murderers have a style. theyve got themes and-and calling cards and stuff. but tommy doesnt have any of that. is he supposed to? but nothing really calls to him and he doesnt want to force a style! thatd be even worse than not having one he should-experiment. yeah. study up on the big names. Azrael, Soot, and Protesilaus. Those guys are the best. theyve even got the cool killer names! he studies their kills. their MOs. and once hes ready, he tries them out. the first few are sloppy so he hides the bodies. he cant let people see that-those are embarrassing!- but once he has them down, he displays them in similar fashions when he sees on the news theories of the return of "The Angel" tommy almost cheers. people think he's Azrael! that must mean he did a good job!

when phil sees one of “his” kills on the news, he does a double take. because he remembers his kills. he studies his victims and he most assuredly did not kill this man but everyone seems to think he did and yes, listening to the details, seeing the set up and the victim choice, if phil were anyone else he could see how this copycat would be misconstrued as the real thing. but phil isnt anyone else and he would like to know who the hell is copying his kills? were they taunting him? some arrogant upstart trying to encroach on his territory?  he doesnt even know why hes so annoyed. he’s not wilbur. he doesnt care about fame. that’s not why he does this (though he loves his son and understands his motives. its a tough world out there, trying to make your mark on it is unforgiving.) still. the fact that people dont realize its a copycat and instead think this kill was the real deal...phils interest is peaked

technoblade knows phil is hunting the newbie. hes been on him for weeks now and still no sign of the copycat. it was funny at first-watching phil scramble after some rookie killer and somehow not catching him- but then the little brat started copying techno as well. and thats when all bets were off.

when wilbur heard about this, he had laughed at first. only to grow more offended as time goes on that whoever this killer is isnt copying his MO. does this asshole thing wilbur isnt on the same level as his father and techno? oh he’ll show that little brat the truth then.

tommy knows he’s being hunted and it is the best. azrael thinks hes enough of a problem to deserve being hunted? thats so cool! tommy needs to make this worth the man’s while! 

[beets]

9-1-1. 7.04 Buck, Bothered and Bewildered [details]

[pa-pa-patato]

This reminded me of an au I used to have

Where basically dream somehow loses all his memories I’m talking before he even met sapnap and George So he just makes a house in the middle of nowhere and stumbles upon passed out Tommy (he got hurt and lost a lot of blood while trying to get away from everyone in the smp to live alone)

Dream help him and when Tommy wakes up dream introduces himself (still don’t know if I want to keep him as dream or call him emerald) It makes Tommy realize he has no memory so ha stays cause ha craves the comfort from him even tho he knows he shouldn’t

Except now dream is so kind and gentle with him treating him like his own flash and blood (which not even his family did)

So Tommy grows attached to him not wanting to ever leave him or dream to leave him (dark Tommy my beloved)

chaos ensues because people can’t find and when they do they find him with dream so they think he kidnapped him Tommy realizes they will take his (brother)dream away from him and he won’t let them do it no matter what

Do you ever think about how ctommy misses dream? How some nights he spends hours begging and pleading to any god who will listen to send him back. That was his friend! Dream was- he was good for him! He misses it. He misses waking up drowning, he misses the way his heart would skip and jump everytime dream shouted, he knew it was wrong, he misses how much his body ached, how much he just wanted it all to end. He misses that, he misses how dream would praise him, running a hand through his hair, whenever he was good. He misses how they used to joke, even if he was punished afterwards. He misses exile, he misses dream. And it makes him feel disgusting. He feels dirty, unclean. He feels like scum. What kind of freak wants that back? Why would he want that? There's something wrong with him. This is wrong. He shouldn't miss him. He shouldn't. This isn't right.

[arrimorr]

Its the whole gang!!

[enisteyjia]

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | SERIES | MAIN MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

-

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask didn't cover his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step.

The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

[shadowdoodles]

Techo is just a bat hybrid but his family are immortal vampires... and no matter how much slower Techno ages than a human and outlives one he is still a mortal and will die at some point.

SBI isn't ready for that even if that time is still years away... they simply can't live without knowing that Techno will one day leave this world... so they make a plan.

They would turn Techno into a vampire even if the hybrid didn't want it that way....

After all they'll have an eternity for the boy to forgive them :))

Prompt #1,235

"I knew loving you was never going to be easy, but now… now it feels like a burden,"

[cata-strophes]

the dark sbi server had another secret santa this year, this was my gift :}

bit of lore i couldnt add bc it would be ten pages longer:

neapolitan trio are demon brothers, phil is their demon dad. techno is the oldest, and he was taken years ago by evil angels or smth idk, he had his memories supressed and for the longest time thought he was human and joined the war on the angelic forces's side.

tommy and wil are tasked to get him back, and tommy does so first, but he wants some time with his brother who is always busy!! so he pretends to be a human child and follows him around. techno grows fond of him and wants to protect him.

wilbur eventually finds him and tommy refuses to give him victory, so the gig is up!!

techno does spend more time with tommy later on ^-^

[totheecore]

911 7x04 | Buck, Bothered and Bewildered

[brummiereader]

Ooh this looks really good 😍! Arhh!.. I have so many questions 😂, what is it Tommy has to do, what was written on the paper 🤔, whatever it is, it can't be good. I must be patient now, and wait for the first upload 🧘‍♀️😅. I love dark fics, so I'm really looking forward to this, can I be added to your tag list please?

Moodboard / Teaser | Dark!Tommy (WIP!)

I decided to post a little teaser and moodboard of something dark/angsty I’ve been thinking of for a long time. I’ve just started working on it so I don’t know how long it will take for me to post but I was thrilled to let you guys read a tiny bit of it already. It will probably be a multiple part story so be prepared!

I’m super excited for this one! 🤩

She followed Tommy into his office, the paper crumbled in her hand because of her tight grip. “You’re not going to do this, are you?” She asked him harshly. She didn’t want to be too hard on him but the stress was taking a toll on her.

“I have to.” He answered her sternly. He stopped in front of the window, his back facing her. “You have to? You would never give up on something you worked so hard for!” She pointed out to him, her frustration visible in her voice. “Like I said, I have to. You should accept it.” He replied, his voice steady but his mind racing.

“Accept it?! You want me to accept this?! I don’t understand that you don’t want to fight for it!” She yelled at him, slamming the paper on his desk. She couldn’t actually believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Just say no!”

Tommy turned swiftly to face her, slamming his hand on the desk. An angry but desperate look in his eyes. “If I say no, you’ll fucking die!” He shouted, pointing a finger in her direction. “You will fucking die!”

………

So there’s that! I hope you guys will be as excited about this as i am once it’s out!

[pepemoon]

It is said that the Boogeyman often appears in the dark, hiding in closets and under beds. But not this one. Tommy was so sure that man was within his walls. But lately, he isn’t even sure that was true. Especially tonight, after the loud siren blaring.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | masterlist!

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"God loves you but not enough to save you,"

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

❝ to my love, Joel.

,...found you just to tell you that I made it real far, i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.

while you were torn apart, i would still wait with you there.

don't think about it too hard, honey. or you'll never sleep a wink at night again.

and don't worry about me and these green eyes,

baby, just know that i love you. and i'll see you when you get here.

i love you forever, Joel... ❞

THE PLAYLIST! (on spotify)👰🏼‍♀️

the preacher's daughter ▪️ dbf! joel miller

MASTERLIST!🐇

Chapter 1: "But I always knew in the end, no one was coming to save me,"

Chapter 2: "Because that's how my daddy raised me,"

Chapter 3: "I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue"

Chapter 4: "He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro reds,"

Chapter 5: "Because for the first time since I was a child, I could see a man who wasn't angry,"

Chapter 6: "Let him make a woman out of me,"

Chapter 7: "You wanna fuck me right now?"

Chapter 8: "The fates already fucked me sideways,"

Chapter 9: "Christ, forgive these bones I'm hiding,"

Chapter 10: "and that's why I could never go back home,"

Chapter 11: "I don't care where as long as you're with me,"

Chapter 12: "If it's meant to be, then it will be."

Chapter 13: "Beautiful people, beautiful problems."

Chapter 14: "You put your hands into your head, and then smile cover your hearts."

Chapter 15: "Something's bad is 'bout to happen to me,"

Chapter 16: "Tag, you're it."

Chapter 17: "If he's a serial killer then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?"

Chapter 18: "He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed"

Chapter 19: "Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise,"

Chapter 20: "You poor thing, sweet, mourning lamb. There's nothing you can do."

Chapter 21: "If we die tonight, I'd died yours."

Chapter 22: "I'm always going to be right here, no one's going anywhere"

-THE END-

read it on wattpad!

the preacher's daughter by babyvenoms

ENJOY! and if you guys have any like visuals to this, or art that you made for this I would love to put it here, just let me know! thank you!! 🩵

[thomashelbyswife]

Thomas Shelby - Peaky Blinders S3E5

[tirpse]

Buck getting kissed by Tommy vs Buck kissing Tommy