#oral heath

[arsonistsam]

I am literally so good at flossing

[jilixthinker]

mr. gorgeous

=͟͟͞♡ felix × fem!reader

=͟͟͞♡ runway felix

word count: 1.1K

content warning: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, deepthroating, balls slapping (just once)

a/c: i wrote this in 45 minutes and i honestly don't have much to add except that this is what i want to do to him for the rest of my life

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

"Please. Please, m-more."

Felix is panting heavily, perfect face flushed with a thin layer of sweat and lipgloss impercettibely smudged on the corner of his lips.

You couldn't even wait to the end of the evening for this, your legs rubbing viciously to ease the tension of seeing Felix, the Felix, walking the runway. And that's why you pulled him with you to the bathroom, not even giving him the chance to repost every single sponsor on his instgram page.

And here you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, kneeling on the most fancy restroom you will ever have the chance to see in your entire life, easing Felix's pink and chubby cock into the heath of your throat.

Felix is still completely dressed up, gorgeous silver pants hugging his perfect slim legs and white shirt just a litte too tight for the deep breaths he is taking. He brings his hands to the back of you head and you can feel the fluffy sleeves caressing the frame of your face.

"You were so fucking sexy, my angel." you whisper on his groin as you bite a little red mark on the sensitive skin near his base. The sweet scent of body lotion and sweat tangled up in his thick pubic hair is making your head spin.

"Love, baby– ah, fuck. We have n-no time." he moans painfully, slender back arched deliciously against the door of the bathroom you sneaked in. "C-cannot make a mess in these."

Your legs are hurting in this position, your short dress not giving you any help in easing the sting of being on your knees. But you love it nonetheless. You feel like worshipping him, and being like this is the only way you can show him how much you love him, how much you want him.

"Better be quick and clean, then." you mutter as you take Felix's hands and bring them to your hair in a makeshift ponytail. "Wanna feel you all deep, angel, don't hold back."

You lower you face, sniffing at the freckled skin and mouthing at his shaft before grabbing the base of his cock with two of your fingers. Felix hisses your name in a raspy tone, and you cup his balls with your other hand.

When you suckle on the tip you can feel Felix's thigh muscles contracting, and a generous dribble of precum gushes out of his slit to coat your tongue. You take the hint and you allow the whole head in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and slurping the warm liquid down your throat.

"You taste amazing. Been pent up as soon as I saw you coming in." you admit, rolling one humid ball in your hand and nosing it before you can suck that in your mouth as well. Felix keens and his head bumps against the door.

"Do you know how hard I had to press my legs together to avoid wetting the fucking chair, my love? Thinking about you coming down my throat and giving me all of your cum until it spills out of my mouth?" you say warmly, taking his cock in a firm fist and letting the red tip hit twice your cheek.

Felix gulps and you think you want to suck his neck as well. But you can't now. That is for later.

You force your tongue out of your mouth and you present it to him, keeping it still and firm.

"Oh f-fuck. Can I? C-can I really?" he asks with his eyes glassy.

You nod accommodatingly, sticking out your tongue as much as you can and feeling your pussy throb and pulsing around nothing. You would give anything in the world to slam Felix down and ease his cock into you, but this is not the time. Now it's for him.

Felix gulps again and gives you a few taps on the hand holding him, letting it fall neatly on your thighs. He looks at you in the eye and curses softly at the view. "Thank you." he pants out, teeth biting the fat of his bottom lip.

And then he grips his length and he slaps his cockhead against your tongue. He does it once, twice. A spurt of white liquid shoots out of him and he uses his engorged tip to spread it on your lips. You moan at the sticky sensation and another gush of slick coats your panties.

He slaps his cock on your wet muscle a few more times before his hips buck forward and you curl your fingers around the base of his length once again. Felix lets out a shuddering breath, and with a quick movement you sink your head down to engulf the entirety of him.

"Baby, please. Please, I am almost there." he whispers as you go back to suckle on his tip and you use your hand to pump the rest.

"Wanna shoot in my mouth, angel? Make me drink your cum as it was a fucking cocktail?" you ask, continuing to bob your head and swirl your tongue around the underside of his heavy cock up to the head.

"Y-yes," he slurs out. "Wanna fill your stomach, please baby. P-please let me."

You smile around his girth and you take him down your throat once again, letting it reach the back as deep as you can and forcing yourself to swallow. Felix hips jolt and you relax yourself to accomodate his entire lenght inside of your mouth, your hand coming back to cup his humid balls and give them a gentle smack.

It takes just a few minutes of you gurgling around Felix's cock for him to start blabbering nosense, and as you feel him hitting the back of your throat with a decise thrust, you swallow again, choking his lenght with a tight heat.

"Oh, fuck, baby, that's it– G-gonna cum." he manages to whisper as his hot white cum starts to shoot in your mouth and leak down your throat. You keep hollowing your cheeks and milk him by squeezing his balls until you feel the last drop of his seed gushing out of his slit.

"Oh my God." he moans, back hitting the door for one last time and cock beginning to soften in your mouth.

You give him one last kitten lick to clean him up and then you tuck him back inside his shiny expensive pants.

"You don't even know what I am gonna do to you when we'll be back home, Mr. Gorgeous".

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[daisyblog]

Perfect

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN’s “first time” together.

Requested by anon.

Warning: swearing, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, mention of body confidence

Harry followed behind YN as they walked through her front door, a pink blush on their cheeks from the breeze that surrounded them on their walk around the Heath. 

YN was mindlessly talking about her never ending list of things she needs to do for the florist, but Harry was lost in her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way her eyes went wider as she spoke, or how her hips swayed as she walked or how her jeans held the right amount of curve. 

He was trying his best to listen but his mind wondered to other things. The strain covered by his own trousers were making it harder for him to concentrate. They hadn’t gone any further than the odd touch whilst getting carried away as their lips melted against each other. 

YN lips twitched into a grin, as she held her hands on her hips with sass. “Are you listening to me?”.

“Sorry!”. Harry chucked as he moved towards her, pulling her closer by the loops on her jeans. “You’re just breathtaking and distracting right now.”. 

As his arms snaked around her hips, his hands landed in her back jeans pockets. “Oh really?”. YN’s voice held a suggestive tone, one that told him she was wanting him just as much as he wanted her. Her hands looped around his neck as she pulled him closer so their lips touched. 

They’d shared many steamy kisses and let their hands wonder above clothing, but tonight felt different. The way Harry’s hands wondered underneath the back of her jumper, feeling the warmth of her skin, and the way YN pulled him closer and moved her front against his to earn a deep moan, made it clear that they were both craving more. 

Harry trailed his wet lips down her neck, gently nibbling as the move. YN’s eyes involuntarily closed as she soaked up the moment that she hadn’t felt for years. A soft hum left her lips as Harry nibbled just below her ear. The sound only fed his ego and encouraged his movements. He placed his lips back on hers, their tongues finding each others with ease. 

As they craved more, their lips become messier, sloppily moving with urgency. Harry found her jeans button and popped it open before pushing his hand inside her pink lace underwear, and earning a heavy moan as he rubbed his two fingers against her core. 

“Fuck…you’re all wet for me.” Harry’s fingers continued to move in a rhythm. YN rested her head against his shoulder as she felt his fingers up the pace. Noticing her breathing becoming heavier, he moved his fingers faster against her. “Come for me baby!”. He spoke into her ear, earning a loud moan from her lips. The faster his fingers worked, the more her hips bucked against him. 

“Ohhh f-fuck…I..I..I’m..I’m gonna cum!”. YN closed her eyes as her fingers gripped onto Harry’s t-shirt, her hips buckling as she moved them against his fingers and when the feeling hit, Harry felt her thighs squeeze together as his fingers worked her through the high. 

Harry removed his fingers from inside her underwear, and held her body to him as she breathed heavily against him. He placed a peck to her sweat covered forehead. “Well that was fun!”. He chucked as he broke the silence. 

YN lazily lifted her head to look at him, her eyes still hazed as she tried to catch her breath. “I’ve never come like that before!”. 

“Really!”. Harry could feel his shoulders straighten with pride. Especially when began to leave small pecks down his neck, before making her way down his jaw and kneeing down on the cold kitchen tiles. Harry knew where this was going, as much as he wanted her to, he didn’t want her to feel pressured. “YN..baby..you don’t need to-“. 

As her hands unbuckled his belt, she smiled up at him. “I want to.”. Harry could feel himself get harder against his jeans, but he let out a breath of relief when YN pulled his jeans and boxers down to realise him. 

He looked down and watched as her hand wrapped around him and started to pump slowly on the tip. Harry took small breaths as he felt her hand start to move a little faster down his lengths. After a few more hand strokes, he closed his eyes when he felt her lips around his tip and his length slide down her tongue. 

“Ohh…ohhh….that pretty fucking mouth!”. Harry dared to take a look down at YN, as his length disappeared in and out her mouth causing her lips to swell. Between his thoughts and the feeling of sucking on the tip as she twirled her tongue, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. 

Not wanting to come too soon, he reached down to the side of her neck and gestured her to stand back up. “C’mere!.” He kissed her with force as he reached down to hold the back of thighs, YN taking the hint to jump up into his arms. 

“You’re so beautiful!”. He whispered on her lips as he blindly walked up the stairs, being careful not to fall as he did so. 

“You’re the beautiful one!”: YN spoke back in between kisses. Her hands finding themselves slipping through his curls. 

As they reached YN’s bedroom, Harry gently laid her down on the soft white duvet. He could see a change in YN’s confidence, she wasn’t as eager as she was before. He could see her having a fight with herself. 

“Hey…we don’t have to do this.”. He reached down to press his lips to her for comfort. “You can be honest with me”. 

YN nibbled on her lip as she debated telling him the truth. She could see Harry’s eyebrows frown with worry. “I…I…”. She took a deep breath to calm the nerves. “I just want to prepare you…I haven’t got the perfect body..or…or…perfect skin…I’ve had a baby…I’ve got stretch marks and loose skin and yeah”. 

“And who said that’s not perfect?”. YN was taken back by Harry’s response. She’d expected him to leave and say he wasn’t interested anymore, but his next move made her fall deeper than she already did. “Your body is perfect…your skin is perfect…your body created a life and I want to show you how perfect you are”. 

YN pulled him down to meet her lips half way, their mouths were messy, eager and full of want. Their hands kept themselves busy as they removed the rest of their clothes, leaving them both bare as they were tangled with each other. 

As they continued to move their lips together, like their lives depended on it, Harry checked they were both happy without a condom. YN agreed as she was on birth control.

Harry reached between them and lined himself up with her entrance, sliding it up and down covering it in her arousal and earning a happy groan from YN. After seeing the wetness covering his length, he moved it back to her core. “Ready?”.

YN nodded as she anticipated the uncomfortable ache she was about to feel, after not having sex for so long. She watched as Harry involuntarily closed his eyes as he slowly pushed into her. A grunting moan left his mouth, as she let out a hiss as she felt her muscle tense.

“Breathe…breathe for me baby”. Harry leaned down so their noses were touching. “I won’t move until you’re ready”. He was desperate to move his hips but he stuck to his words.

After a couple of minutes, the ache disappeared and YN gave Harry the go ahead. He gently pulled out, before he moved his hips closer to YN. “Fuck…you’re so big”. Her words shocked Harry but it only turned him on more.

“Ohhh…fuck me!”. Harry didn’t hold back as he felt the build up in his lower stomach. “You feel so good”. His movements were quick as he slid his length in and out, his breath was fast as he felt himself get closer.

YN’s hands scrunched the sheet in her fingers. “Go faster!”. She encouraged his fast thrusts as she felt her own build up. Harry knew he was close so he placed his thumb on her bud and rubbed as he continued to thrust into her. “Ohhh…yeah…right there!”.

“Come for me baby…c’mon come against my fingers again”. YN could feel it in her tummy, the excitement growing with both his thumb moving in circles and his length hitting the spot.

Her hips bucked up, her hips lifting off the bed and Harry let go himself and came at the sight of YN coming against his fingers.

As they both came down from their high, Harry flopped down beside YN on the bed, wrapping his arm around her bare waist as he did. “You alright babe?”.

“I’m fucked!”. YN breathed out as her eyes were still closed and limbs weak. “Quite literally”. She let out a laugh as her own joke.

Harry got up from his place and walked into the en-suite and switched the shower on. YN was still in the same position but now her eyes were open watching his move.

“C’mon…let’s get you showered before bed”. Harry placed his hand under her legs and the other under back as he picked her up in his arms with ease.

“You’re too good to me”. YN held onto his shoulder as he walked them into the now steamy bathroom. Harry let YN down as they both in the shower. The water covering them as they stood underneath. YN eyes screamed tiredness as the water washed down her face.

“C’mon sleepyhead…turn around”. YN followed Harry’s instructions and turned so her back was now facing him. The feeling of his fingers massaging her head surprised her as she felt the shampoo bubble on her hair.

It was the first time they were silent all evening as Harry continued to wash YN’s hair with conditioner. They both shared shy glances as they washed their own bodies, and sweet kisses as they stood under the water.

After their shower, Harry helped YN dress into her pyjamas and he put on a clean pair of boxers. YN sat in awe at how Harry found her hairbrush and hair dryer, and brushed through her wet hair before drying her hair.

They crawled under the duvet, YN was quick to find her new favourite spot on Harry’s chest with his arm wrapped around her. “Thank you”. Her words were quiet as her eyes become heavier.

“For what?”. Harry questioned as he pressed his lips to the top her freshly washed hair.

“Accepting me”. YN’s words were a whisper as she quickly fell asleep with her ear pressed against Harry’s chest.

“I adore you, Golden girl”.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @vikiii07-blog @sleutherclaw

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Slutmas Day 6

Stressed & Insecure (Matt)

Request: None

Warnings: Mommy kink, talk of poor mental heath, angsty at first, Matt being insecure, talk of body dysmorphia, friends to lovers, cockwarming, oral, whiny Matt

“You’re such a good boy for letting mommy take care of you like this”

Matt’s pov

Everything sucks right now, I’m so busy with work, it’s taking up all of my time, and everything going on right now backs up to that. I was purely stressed from work originally, which I know might seem easy, but don’t be fooled because it’s not. We’ve had so many meetings for sponsored content, videos, guest appearances, and merch designing, on top of filming for our YouTube and the Podcast. I’m genuinely just drained, my anxiety is high, I can’t sleep, and I’m overall in a bad mood.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘why not just jack off?’ well that’s because I can’t. I guess with being stressed and overwhelmed by everything, my cock just won’t get hard. It probably doesn’t help that my body is constantly getting hated on because of my weight, it makes me really insecure and uncomfortable with myself and my body. I was sitting at my desk doing some more online work and it was pissing me off, I’m so frustrated! I’m just doing so much overthinking and it’s making me stressed, overwhelmed, and insecure.

Just as I threw my notebook across the room there was a small knock and Chris popped his head in. “Matt, are you alright? Do you need anything?” Chris asked, knowing I wasn’t in the best mental state. “I’m fine, I just want to be alone” I sighed back, “Are you still coming to Larray’s house with us tonight?” I completely forgot about that. Chris looked a bit disappointed by my answer but he understood, “Nah I’m just gonna stay here, ‘m stressed and overwhelmed right now so I won’t be any fun” I said before Chris closed the door.

That was my insecurities talking, I always found myself rather boring and unenthusiastic when I’m in these moods. It had been about an hour of trying to get hard and then sitting in my chair with my head in my hands. My door slowly creeped open and I immediately assumed it was Chris or Nick. “Get the fuck out of my room!” I yelled, turning around to be met with my best friends confused face. “I’m sorry, Chris said they were leaving and I should come keep you company because you’re having a bad day. I didn’t mean to make you upset” Y/n said quite nervously. I slammed my fist down on my desk before completely losing it, hot tears rolling down my face.

1 hour earlier

Y/n’s pov

I was at a nail appointment when I got a text message, I was already done with my fingers and in the chair for my toes.

iMessage start at 5:02pm

Chrisizzle🍊

bro are you busy

Y/n/n🪼

i’m getting my toes done rn

why

Chrisizzle🍊

at 5:30 me and nick are going to larray’s for the night

so i wanted to ask you a favor

yk how matt’s been kinda moody lately?

well today he’s really stressed and sad so he’s in a bad mood and i don’t want him to be alone tonight so can you head over afterwards and chill with him?

Y/n/n🪼

you literally just set up a playdate for your child lmao

but yeah i’ll go over there, i’ve missed my matty poo

Chrisizzle🍊

wow but you don’t miss me

that one hurt Y/n/n 🥲

anyways lmk when you get to our house bc we leave in 15

Y/n/n🪼

awe of course i miss you too sizzle 🤍

i’m abt to pay then I’ll head over

Chrisizzle🍊

don’t call me sizzle

*Y/n/n🪼 disliked this message*

iMessage ends at 5:37pm

The message had been from one of my best friends, Chris, he asked if I would go hang with his triplet bother, Matt, for tonight. I know he’s been getting a lot of hate about his attitude/weight and has been down the past 2 or 3 weeks, so I was hoping to cheer him up. I drove directly to the boys house after paying for my nails since I had a bunch of essentials over there and didn’t need anything from home.

I let myself in with my key and walked up to Matt’s room, which groans of frustration could be heard coming from. I lightly knocked before entering his room, as I was reclosing the door Matt yelled. “Get the fuck out of my room!” he said angrily, Matt’s never yelled at me before and he looked so pissed off that I got a little nervous.

I quickly replied with “I’m sorry, Chris said they were leaving and I should come keep you company because you’re having a bad day. I didn’t mean to make you upset” he looked at me for a second before I saw his face change to one of pain, hurt, and anxiety. Matt slammed his fist onto his desk yelling “Fuck!” before choking out into sobs.

His whole body was shaking and he slid out of his chair onto the floor, something he does when he’s really, really upset. I immediately ran over to sit next to him, wrapping my arms around his shaking figure. “I’m sorry! They hate me and I’m sorry!” he blurted out, causing me to be a bit confused as Matt’s hands desperately clung onto my shirt.

“It’s okay Matt, let it all out. You’re safe honey, I’ve got you-“ I was cut off by Matt pulling away from my shirt and basically screamed out in pain. “I don’t know what the fuck I did! Y/n, what’s wrong with me!? A-Am I not good enough!? I’m too skinny, I try to eat more but I can’t gain weight, I fucking hate my body! All I keep doing is disappointing everyone, Y/n I-I don-“ he started spiraling into a panic attack and I was worried, I have never seen Matt this bad before.

I didn’t know what else to do so I pushed past my own anxieties and kissed him. I cupped both of his cheeks and smashed our lips together, Matt was shocked at first so he didn’t kiss back but once he realized what was happening, he kissed back. I pulled away and Matt’s lips tried to chase mine before he opened his eye.

“W-What was that for?” he asked, a bit breathless from his previous breakdown. I suddenly felt shy so I looked down, “I uh- I didn’t know how else to get you to stop talking” I said, nervously playing with my fingers. “Oh, well thanks?” he said in a questioning tone, “Did you mean what you said about your body? Do you really think that?” I softly asked.

Matt groaned and stood up, offering me his hand, “I don’t want to talk about it but yes, I do hate my body” he mumbled as I too stood up. We made our way over to his bed and laid there in silence for a few minutes. I rolled over to my side facing Matt “Have you tried cumming?” I questioned quietly, “What!?” he rolled to face me as well, confused by what I just said.

“You know, because you’re stressed. I think I read somewhere that having an orgasm helps to relieve stress” Matt’s face was now painted red. He rolled over to be flat on his back again, “I’ve tried but I can’t get hard” he exhaled deeply. “Oh… I could try to help if you want” I offered, chewing on my nails, Matt turned to face me again, “Help.. me get… Help me get hard?” he questioned nervously.

We both had blush covering our faces at this point, “Yeah, then I can go chill in Nicks room and you can jerk off” I smiled shyly. “I mean that could work but I don’t want to be naked if you have clothes on” “You don’t have to be naked, you just have to trust me” “I-I trust you, how do we start though?” we conversed. I took a moment to think before asking, “Do you want to make out first, I know I’m like a lot bigger than you so I don’t know if it would be a problem for me to sit on your lap. Is it a problem?” I asked self-consciously as we both sat up.

Matt looked at me with an unamused look, “If that’s your way of making me feel worse about my body, it worked because your body is amazing” he huffed out, avoiding looking at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel that way” I said with a sad smile, upset that I hurt Matts feelings. “I know you didn’t but my body is like the main reason I cant get hard. I don’t like looking at myself naked, it shows off too much of what’s wrong with me” he replied.

It was silent again for a few minute until I broke the silence again, “I think it’s hot” “What?” Matt looked at me confused. “Your body, I think it’s hot” I smirked, “You think so?” “I know so, don’t you ever notice me staring at you when you’re shirtless or only wearing your boxers?” I teased some more. “I haven’t noticed actually, however, I have noticed you’re not on my lap yet” Matt pouted, pulling me onto his lap.

I was about to say something but was cut off by Matt grabbing the side of my face/neck and pulled me into a sweet kiss that quickly turned needy. I pulled back for a second to catch my breath, “Shit, I’m sorry! I’m just so touch starved and crave physical affection. You were gonna say something?” he panicked. “It’s okay, I know that physical touch is your love language, it’s one of the things I like about you. I forgot what I was going to say but I can tell you I’ll kiss you again” I giggled.

With that, Matt pulled my face to his again and this time the kiss was soft, yet also rough and needy. I had my hands wrapped around Matt’s neck, but his laid awkwardly at his sides, almost as if he’s scared to touch me. I pulled back from the kiss to grab his wrist and mumbled something against his lips. “You can touch me you know” I smirked as I placed Matt’s hands on my waist and went back to kissing him.

Matt’s hands quickly slid down and tightly gripped onto my hips, slowly starting to rock me back and forth. I started feeling his cock get hard and once I could tell he was fully hard, I stopped everything which caused Matt to let out a displeased whine. “Mmh why’d you stop?” he pouted, “Because you’re hard now, which means it’s my queue to leave” I said while trying to get up.

Matt held my hips down and begged, “Please don’t go! I-I don’t think I’ll be able to make myself cum, me being alone with my naked body sounds like a bad dream” he sighed. Piggybacking off what was just said he added, “W-Would you please m-make me feel good? I’ll let you have your way with me as long as it’s not super rough because I’m not in the mood for that” his eyes got a shade or two darker.

“Yeah, I can give you head if you want or you can sit back, relax and enjoy the full sub treatment” “Does the full sub treatment include sex? Because I’ve never been the submissive one before, I uh usually do doggy so my body isn’t seen as much. I’ve never even had a chick ride me before but you being on top sounds really hot, we don’t to have sex by the way, I was just saying if you wanted to I’m down” Matt confessed.

“If you stop talking about sex with other women, you have a deal. I might keep my shirt on though” I replied as I started slowly rocking my hips again. Matt’s grip on my waist tightened and he thrusted his hips up, his hard-on pressing against my clit so nicely that I let out a small, quiet moan. His eyes grew even darker after that, “No you will not. I wanna see your beautiful belly, I just know it’s gonna turn me on so much more” he instructed me.

I blushed and nodded, “Okay then handsome, just lay back and let me do all the work, tonight is all about you” I said, watching him nod before my lips were on his. I slid my tongue across his bottom lip, silently asking for access to his mouth which was quickly granted. He had a bit of trouble giving up control over the kiss at first but once I started trailing my kisses down his throat, he finally gave up on trying to win.

Matt’s pov

After Y/n had dominated the kiss, we made out for a bit before she started kissing down my neck. Once she reached the collar of my shit, she stopped and stood up to unbutton her pants. “If you really want me to make you feel good, take your pants off for me” she said seductively as she pulled off her own baggy jeans. I followed her directions and pulled my sweats off before grabbing her hand and leading her to sit on my lap again.

Y/n sat on my lap again before taking off her shirt, leaving her in a black lacy bra with matching panties. “Fuck… you look so goddamn beautiful” I said while looking into her eyes, my hands running up her thighs. “Mmm, thank you handsome. Can I take your shirt off?” she smiled, placing a short but sweet kiss to my lips, “You can do whatever you want to me” I panted, already being completely whipped for her.

She took my shirt off before whispering in my ear, “You’re such a good boy for letting mommy taking care of you like this” as I helped her get my pants and boxers off. “Such a pretty cock Matty. You gonna let me make you feel good?” Y/n teased, making me squirm a bit. “Please! Please just make me cum!” I pathetically begged as I watched her hand slowly move up and down my cock.

Y/n’s pov

“Anything for my sweet boy. Now tell me what it is that you want baby” I asked softly, loving how fucked out he looked already. “Want your mouth please mommy! Want you to ride me after!” Matt confessed all whiny and desperate, and who was I to deny him that? Without a word, I nodded before bring his tip into my mouth, loving the whimper he let out, “Yeah j-just like that, fuck!” he groaned as I swirled my tongue around his tip.

After teasing Matt a little bit, I decided to fully take him into my mouth, almost immediately deepthroating his cock. “Holy shit mommy! You’re so good at this! I won’t last long!” he cried out, bucking his hips up when I hummed against him. I continued doing this for a few more minutes when I felt Matt start to twitch in my mouth, his lower abdomen contacting as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum— shit!” he whimpered as his hips thrusted upward and his left hand came down to hold my head in place. His right hand was pulling at his own hair as he shout a huge load into my mouth, so much that it was literally dripping out of the corners of my mouth. As I came up for air, I wiped the corners of my mouth to clean up the spilled cum and then licked it off.

“Did that feel good Matty? You were such a good boy” I smile as I placed a sweet kiss to his lips. “More! I-I need more! Y/n please, I need you to ride me. I’m so fucking hard still, I need to drain my balls in you” Matt begged me. “So needed aren’t we?” “Yes, please I need you” Matt nearly yelled with tears in his eyes. “Okay, okay, calm down sweet boy. You’ll get what you want, just be patient” I spoke softly as I pulled off my panties and unhooked my bra.

Matts hands immediately went down to my ass, staring up at me with a look of desperation. “Are you gonna be a good boy?” “Very good!” I smiled as I slowly sunk down on his cock, trying to adjust to how long and thick it was. “S-So tight mommy! So f-fucking tight!” Matt whimpered out as I started to move up and down with the help of him. Both of us were moaning quite loudly as I started to move faster, pulling his hair in the process.

“Such a good boy Matty, making mommy feel so good with your big cock!” “W-Want you to cum. Wanna f-fill you up” Matt grunted as he started bucking his hips up into me at a fast pace. We were both very close and with one more thrust that hit my g-spot perfectly, I was cumming on his cock. “Fuck Matt, I’m cumming. Oh god— cum for me baby!” I cried as I rode through my orgasm, starting to slightly overstimulated but wanting Matt to cum.

With a loud whiny growl, Matt came inside of me, this load was equally as big as the one from earlier, instantly dripping down his balls. “Holy shit— I love you, and I’m not just saying that because you gave me the most mind blowing orgasm ever. I genuinely love you Y/n” Matt confess as he started to rub my back. “I love you too Matt, I mean it” I smiled as I placed a soft kiss to his lips “Don’t get off, cockwarm me all night please” he sweetly asked.

I agreed and we got situated so we could lay down, Matt turning off his bedside lamp in the process. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna take you on the best date of your life, but for now, goodnight pretty lady” “Goodnight Matt, I love you” I mumbled into his neck, feeling the sleep take over my body. “I love you too, and thank you for tonight. Now get some rest baby” was the final thing to be said before we drifted off to sleep.

All work is subject to copyright

© Daddyslilchickenfingers2 2023

Do not steal my work

[miss-americana-reputation]

animals

heath ledger!joker x reader

smut 18+, p in v, fingering, teasing, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink, bondage, aftercare.

“fuck yes!” i moan loudly. my wrists are bound above me to the headboard as the one and only joker fucks me with his tongue and fingers. the one and only joker i call my boyfriend, the love of my life.

“oh fuck.” i cry as he pulls his mouth away and looks up at me. his scars are gleaming with my juices in the moonlight reflecting through the cracks of my curtains. “j- please.” i beg.

“what?” he asks. “fuck me. i needa feel you.” i sound pathetic. “patience, dear, patience.” he coos. he digs back in with his mouth and fingers attacking me.

“oh yes!” i moan loudly. “fuck.” i say as i put my legs over his shoulders. he hums against me and i clench around him. “please. let me cum.” i whine. i buck my hips at the pleasure he’s giving me.

he pulls away, pulling his mouth away, and fingers out. “no. please. j, i need it, i need you.” i cry. “i told you, it needs to last all night.” he says and sucks off my juices from his fingers.

“fucking delicious.” he smirks. “please.” i whine. “darling. if you cum now, you wouldn’t feel what i want you to. that’s why you need to wait. it’ll be amazing.” he explains his logic. “oh my god.” i cry, a few tears slipping down my cheeks.

“aw, look at you. so pathetic.” he taunts. “just please. i need your cock.” i beg. “please daddy.” i add.

he quickly strips off his slacks and pulls down his boxers. his harden cock hits his slight toned stomach and he lets out a small his. “hm.” he hums as he slowly strokes himself. “please.” i whine.

he gives in and climbs on top of me. he lines himself up with me and thrusts in. “yes!” i moan as he gives me what i want.

“feel good?” he asks and continues to brutally thrust into me. “yes, j, yes!” i moan. he connects his lips to my neck while fucking me. “you’re squeezing me so tight.” he pants.

“who’s is this?” he asks. “who’s pussy is this?” he asks. “yours, all yours.” i moan, looking at him directing in eyes. “yeah. that’s right.” he thrusts into me harder.

he moves my legs so he’s thrusting into my at a different angle, hitting the deep spot inside me at a different angle. “yes, daddy. fuck me.” i moan. “yeah? what do you think i’m doing?” he smirks. “ah! god. i’m close.” i warn.

he pulls out and i let out a pathetic whine. “please.” i feel more tears slip. “i was close.” i cry. “i know. i could feel you. you just need some patience.” he drags his tip up my folds. he taps it against my clit and i let out a gasp from my sensitivity.

“please. fuck me.” i beg. “i need your cock daddy, i need it.” i’m not holding back, i’m begging and crying.

he lines himself back up with me and slowly slides in. “yes.” i moan. “couldn’t not give you want you want.” he smirks as he continues to fuck me like animals. “feels so- fuck, good.” i moan.

“oh j.” i gasp. “fucking me so good.” i moan. “you’re a vocal one.” he smirks as he points out. “yes, fuck.” he sighs. there’s a brief moment of silence where yoh can just hear our heavy breathing and the squelching sounds coming from me.

“daddy-” i cry out. he presses his lips against mine as he continues. “ah!” i moan against him. i pull against the handcuffs as the bubble builds up in my stomach.

“i’m close.” i feel more tears slip down my cheeks. “not until i say so.” he warns. “oh my god.” i groan. he gives me a few more thrusts before if shapes into me needing to pee.

“j- daddy. i need to pee.” i say. “oh just you wait. you’re in for a treat.” he coos. i feel more tears slip and he softly rubs the side of my face. “please.” i beg. “i need it.” i add.

“okay. cum.” he sighs. i let go and i feel a gush between my legs. i finish loudly around him, crying, moaning, and yelling his name and other curses. “oh fuck, yes!” i moan.

i fade out and i come back to him beside me, catching his breath. “worth it?” asks. “yes.” i pant. “see i told you, it’s better to wait sometimes.” he smirks. “mhm.” i nod and cuddle up closer to him. i feel my legs hit a wet patch and i look up at him.

“you squirted, like a fountain. it was magical.” he explains. i get embarrassed and a little bit grossed out. “it was sexy.” he softly rubs my shoulder. “i need to do laundry.” i point out.

i try to get even closer to him, taking in the smell of gasoline, gunpowder, and sweat, smells 5 years ago i would never find comforting. “darling, sorry for not seeing you.” he apologizes. “it’s okay. you were busy, i get it.” i softly smile.

“how was the warehouse? everything go okay? everyone in line?” he asks. “mhm. i didn’t run into any problems that i couldn’t fix.” i smile.

“i got you something.” he says. he gets up, putting on his boxers and digging into his coat pockets. he pulls out a medium sized jewelry box. “j.” i smile, sitting up and pulling the blankets up to my chest.

he opens it to see a dainty silver necklace with a small diamond hanging off of it. “it’s gorgeous.” i smile. “bought it this time.” he smiles and i softly laugh. he takes it out of the box and i turn my back to him, lifting up my hair as he sets it around my neck, clasping it behind my neck.

i drop my hair when he pulls away. i lay back down and he joins me. “thank you.” i smile. “mhm.” he nods. “you missed it, i made roast.” i point out. “is there more?” he asks. “i think so. check the fridge.” i nod. he gets up and disappears into the kitchen.

———

[gunnerfc]

Tobin Heath NSFW Alphabet (18+, minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

Tobin is so soft after sex, she’ll do anything you ask her and will cuddle with you after

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Tobin’s favorite body part is her hands, for the obvious reason but she loves how easy it is to pleasure you with her hands

Her favorite body part of yours is your thighs, she loves feeling them on either side of her when she’s going down on you

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

She loves going down on you and will make out with you right after

D: Dirty Secret 

Whenever you two are apart, Tobin loves calling you and each time it always leads to her talking you through making yourself cum

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

Tobin is experienced and knows what she’s doing

F: Favorite Position 

Tobin doesn’t have a favorite position, she just loves making you feel good and it doesn’t matter the position

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

She’ll make little jokes after but during, she’s very serious

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

Sex with Tobin is very intimate

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC) 

She enjoys watching (or hearing) you getting yourself off

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

Praising, Tobin loves to praise you and hearing you whine louder

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

Anywhere in your shared apartment

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

Everything you do drives Tobin crazy and is enough to turn her on

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

Tobin doesn’t want to do anything too public or runs the risk of having you two walked in on

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Giving, would spend so long between your legs if you’d let her

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

Slow and sensual all the time

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

She likes them and they happen often but she doesn’t like how rushed you two are sometimes

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

Tobin is open to trying anything you bring up and if you both are into it, you’ll most likely try it again

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

You two go for a few rounds that are a bit longer

T: Toys 

Tobin has a strap she uses very often but she also just loves using her mouth or hands

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

She loves to tease you all the time and it is no different in the bedroom

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

Tobin isn’t loud at all, you’re the louder one between the two of you

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

Tobin loves when you pull her hair or push her closer to you when she’s going down on you

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s in the middle but some days it is higher

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Tobin falls asleep after you do, so however long it takes you to fall asleep is how long it takes her

[roguerogerss]

Take Me To Church

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

W/C: around 3.7k ?? (i’m too lazy to check)

Warnings: SMUT!! (literal porn with a tiny bit of plot if you squint), oral sex (f receiving), loss of virginity, some weird religious stuff (this is actual filth).

(IT HAS BEEN A WHILE!!! promised this a few days ago and it’s not brilliant BUT i’m getting back into this because i love love love writing tommy. pls keep in mind that this is literally pure FILTH and nothing more, i am but a simple being. love u stick around for more tommy sooooon!!!)

**

The Garrison was busier than usual, you supposed because it was a fine Saturday, but it seemed that every man in Small Heath was swaying drunk before you. You didn't mind the busy shifts, in fact, you almost enjoyed them. The men got drunk much quicker on Saturdays, meaning most of their money had made it's way into your pocket as tips by the time five o'clock rolled around.

You'd taken the time during a quiet spell to open the small coin purse that you carried with you and dump its contents onto the counter. Three pounds already, your entire monthly rent paid for in just under 4 hours of work. You smiled to yourself, knowing you'd only be given more as the night went on.

"Y/N." You heard a familiar voice from behind you and felt your stomach flip itself over. He was either going to berate you for counting your tips on shift, or you'd put something through the books wrong, he sounded even sterner than usual.

"Mr Shelby." You turned around, a smile on your face. You enjoyed his presence, you couldn't lie, something about the way he intimidated you excited you at the same time. "Can I help you?"

"Don't call me that." He sounded angry with you, frustrated, even, something that he never was. His brothers joked that he had a sweet spot for you, the pretty barmaid from the Garrison, the book keeper for their business. You hoped they were right.

"Whisky?" You asked, holding up a crystal glass and cocking your head to the side. You were sure he wasn't just here for a drink, but, then again, you weren't at all sure what else he needed.

He shook his head no. "Come with me."

You felt yourself almost shrink away from him, now feeling more intimidated than anything else. "Where? I'm working Thomas."

"Your work can wait for me." He turned to walk away, expecting you to follow, but he knew that you weren't as easy as that. You were going to give him a hard time of this.

You stayed put, scraping your tips from the counter and into your coin purse. "And are you going to pay me for my time? These men are paying good tips, Tommy-"

"I don't bloody care." He turned around, you'd definitely struck a nerve of some kind. His next steps towards you had you gulping in what could've been fear, or excitement. "I don't care what these men are giving you, Y/N. You come with me, when I ask."

"Yes, sir." You smirked. Thomas bit down on the inside of his cheek. You knew exactly what you were doing, he was convinced.

He shook his head, pulled his cap back on, and walked away, with you in tow. When you got outside, he waited for you, passing you a cigarette and even lighting it for you when you placed it between your lips.

You walked side by side, in silence, through the alleys of Small Heath, smoking together. Everyone who you passed either acknowledged Tommy in a passive way - "Evening Mr Shelby." - or turned their heads away and moved swiftly out of his line of sight.

Tommy led you through the gate to the Chapel, and your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to decipher what he was doing. "The Chapel?" You asked, passively. Tommy simply grunted in response, holding the door open for you.

You crossed yourself as you entered, something you'd been taught to do as a child and that had become a force of habit over the years. Thomas smiled to himself as he watched you.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" You turned to him as you reached the pews, arms crossed over your chest in that cocky way that he so hated but loved at the same time.

"Sit down." He paid no mind to your playful manner and gestured to one of the rows. You did as he said, but apprehensively, watching him all the while.

"Have I done something wrong, Tommy?" You asked as he sat down next to you. You could feel your heart pounding, and your regular playful nature with Tommy seemed to be gone, replaced by pure nerves.

His face seemed to soften slightly upon hearing you sounding nervous. He wasn't used to this side of you, your usual temperament being smug and sarcastic. "No. No, you've done nothing wrong."

The Chapel went silent for a moment, and you simply stared up at the large, stained glass window before you. You'd practically grown up here. Every morning before school, your mother had taken you and your siblings to morning prayer, and every Sunday you'd attend the services, entire family dressed in Sunday best dresses and suits. You'd stopped coming at sixteen, when your siblings had all moved away from home and it felt more depressing than anything to do the things you used to do together as children.

Religion was a taboo subject for you, having grown up Catholic and realised as a young teenager that you didn't agree with the teachings of the Church, and so the old Chapel both held a place in your heart and a feeling of resentment in your bones.

"Then what is this about?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, the silence becoming too much to bare. "Why am I here?"

"Well, you grew up a good Catholic girl, didn't you?" Tommy was smirking, an odd sort of smirk. You found yourself looking puzzled, but nodding your head anyway. "Then you'll know that a Chapel is where people come to confess."

"And what would I have to confess?" You thought that maybe he was accusing you of something, and you found yourself scrambling to think of anything you'd put through the books wrong. You figured it could very easily have looked like you were stealing from him, had you not accounted for money lost or spent, and your heart started pounding again.

"It's more what I have to confess." Tommy shifted slightly in his seat. If you didn't know him well, you'd assume he was acting rather calm for apparently being in the middle of a confession that required a visit to a Chapel, but the way he was wringing his fingers, the way he was shuffling around in his seat, you got the sense that Thomas Shelby could even have been anxious.

"Oh." The word almost fell from your mouth, quiet, but loud enough to have been heard in a silent Chapel.

"You remember when I hired you as bookkeeper of the company, yes?" It was a rhetorical question and you knew that, so you didn't speak, or nod, you just hung on his every word, intrigued, excited, "I wasn't completely honest with you about the reasoning behind that. I told you we needed a bookkeeper, but I lied. Arthur had been doing it for years before I asked you to help us out, and his adding up isn't great but he got the job done."

"So why did you hire me then, Mr Shelby?"

"I told you not to call me that. Does something to me.” He said it so nonchalantly, but with a hint of something that sent a chill down your spine. You found talking with him electrifying. "I hired you because I'm selfish, really."

"I don't think I'm following." You were playing dumb, now, not entirely sure on what he meant but having much more of an idea than you were letting on. You supposed some part of you thought deep down that there was no way that what you were imagining he meant could've been true.

"You haven't noticed, have you?" Tommy watched you intently, the look from earlier still plastered across your face, confused, naive, "The entire male population of Small Heath practically worship the ground you walk on. And I've never blamed them, really, figure a woman like you should be worshipped, but I'm a jealous man. Having you work for me meant I'd always have you, and other men would leave you alone."

"Why wouldn't you just ask me to be yours?" Your heart had resumed it's pounding, the sound of blood rushing in your ears, you were sure Thomas could hear it, too.

"I said I was a jealous man, not a simple one." You were suddenly feeling the burn of Tommy's eyes on you, the intensity of his stare, right into your face, as though he was trying to see into your mind.

"You could have any woman you wanted, Thomas Shelby, if only you'd ask." You were smiling now, a small smile, and so was Tommy, something that you'd come to notice, he seemed to only do around you.

"But I don't want just any woman, do I, love?" Tommy was impossibly close, now, face just inches from your own, breath hot against your cheeks. His hand wandered from his lap to your thigh, and your breath hitched when the rough pads of his fingertips found the exposed skin not covered by your skirt.

"So, you want me, Mr Shelby?" A subtly sultry whisper, evoking a wanting sigh from Thomas' lips. He let his eyes flutter closed for a second as you watched, his dark eyelashes settling on flushed cheeks, so, so close to you. You thought you might've been the luckiest woman in Small Heath at that moment.

Without another word, without warning, Tommy's lips came crashing onto yours. Rough, open mouthed, your hands roaming the back of his neck, his inching their way past the threshold of your skirt.

You'd heard the rumours around town, from women who'd been with your boss intimately. You couldn't lie and say you hadn't thought about it, God, you thought about it, and your expectations of Thomas were high.

"What do you want, love? Tell me what you want me to do." He was looking you dead in the face, and you could feel your cheeks burning red.

You looked around apprehensively, at the empty Chapel, the very public Chapel, and then back to Thomas, "Shouldn't we go home? Do this some place private?"

"Do you want me or not?" He was blunt about it, but your answer came quickly, with barely a thought behind it.

"I want you, Tom."

"Then we'll do this where I say we do this, pretty girl." He kissed you again, "Now, tell me, what do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me."

"We'll get there, sweetheart. I'm a bit of a gentleman in bed, though. Not gonna rush this." His hand wandered, until he was touching you over your underwear. You mewled at the feeling, "Do you want me to touch you there, eh? Is that where you want me?"

"Fuck, Thomas, yes." The sound of your moans echoing through a Chapel was something you'd never have expected to hear.

"Good girl." Tommy's hand traveled further up, into your underwear, long fingers making you bite down on your lip to suppress a whine. "So wet, all hot and bothered for me. And in a Church, God, what would ‘Our Father’ think if he could see us now?"

He was grinning, looking up at you with hungry eyes as you wiggled your hips closer to him, wanting him to do something, anything, to stop teasing you and just give you what he knew you wanted. "Please, Tommy."

You found your hands reaching for his crotch, but he swatted you away, "I want this to be about you, not me."

Tommy’s eyes met yours, one of his hands holding the back of your neck, keeping you looking directly at him. “Tell me, love, have you done this before?"

"Fucked in a Chapel?" Your sarcasm had Thomas in a chokehold, you knew he loved it.

"You know what I mean."

"And you want honesty from me?" You swallowed hard when he nodded, “No. I haven't."

"And you're sure you want to?" You nodded your head yes, well aware of what you wanted from Thomas Shelby since the moment you met him. “Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes. I'm sure. Thought about it, Tom."

"Thought about me, have you?" The grin on his face had your head swimming. He knew what he was doing, too. “Mm, tell me what you've been thinking about, darling."

"I've heard you give women you sleep with quite a time. Lizzie told me down at the wash house that you were...good with your mouth." You couldn’t meet his eyes after saying that, making an effort to look anywhere else, his tie pin, his shoulder, but he placed a single finger under your chin, lifting it just enough that you couldn’t fight from looking at him anymore.

The corners of Thomas' lips turned up, "You want me to prove it to you?"

"Yes. Please."

He nodded, and gave you a gentle push backwards, encouraging you to lay down. You obeyed, and he sent one last look at you, eyes piercing, a silent question of "are you sure?". You nodded, knowing somehow that, even although he could be cold, he'd take care of you.

And then his head was under your skirt, and your underwear had been practically ripped from your body. His hands guided your thighs to rest on his shoulders, and then moved to grip your hips tightly, thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles into your skin.

As soon as he started his assault, you were gasping and whining without a care. Lizzie tended to lie, exaggerate the time she had in bed with men in town, but, God, was she right about Thomas Shelby.

"Tom, that feels so good." You let your head fall back against the wooden pews, focusing on how his tongue felt as it pressed against you, gentle strokes over your clit, and then diving between your folds. Your hands reached for the back of his head, holding him in place. He smiled against you, he knew you were reaching your high already.

"You're close already, sweetheart. That good?" He kept going, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter by the second. You felt completely comfortable with Tommy, something you'd never had with anyone else, the reason you were only now letting a man take your innocence.

"I've never done this before." You breathed out, not even entirely sure what you meant but assuming that Tommy got the message. He hummed against you, earning a whine from the back of your throat. "Tommy, I think I'm about to-"

"I know you are, darling. Come on then, let me hear you." One of his hands reached further under your dress, under your bra, and you felt his fingers tweaking your nipple. You came totally undone, then, the warmth in your belly too much to handle.

Your orgasm came over you with a scream, had you biting down on your hand to quiet yourself down. Tommy was grinning now, listening to you was like heaven to him, knowing that he'd made you feel so good that you were screaming for him.

“God, could listen to you moan forever, love.”

When you were done, Tommy lifted his head from under your skirt, lips and chin glistening with your wetness, "You liked that, didn't you pretty girl?" He used the side of his hand to move the hair that had fallen into your face to the side.

You nodded, not quite meeting his eye, almost embarrassed by how obviously you'd enjoyed yourself. "I'm not done." He added, matter-of-factly, "You said you wanted me to fuck you."

You nodded again, "I do."

"You're certain?" He was serious, something that he was all the time with everyone else, but never so much with you.

"I'm certain, Tommy." And you were, so, so certain.

He nodded to himself, looking down, hand rubbing the back of his neck almost apprehensively, "I've never taken someone's virginity before."

You giggled, a surprised, giddy laugh, “I don't believe that for a second, Mr Shelby."

"I'm serious." You could tell he was. You didn’t understand how that could’ve been the case, you were almost certain that any young woman in a fifty mile radius would beg Thomas Shelby to take their innocence from them, “I'll be gentle with you, alright? You tell me to stop and I'll stop."

You'd never expected Tommy to be such a gentleman in bed, as he'd told you earlier, but you believed every word he said, comforted by his hand on your cheek and the way his eyes were trained on yours. "Okay. I trust you, Tom.”

"Okay." He was kissing you again quickly, again, laying you down, hovering over you this time. He didn't wait long before unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers.

You reached out, lips still attached to his, to palm him through his underwear. You almost gasped out loud when you felt him, so hard for you. You heard a groan rise from the back of Thomas's throat as you touched him, his kisses becoming even more hungry for you.

You reached into his boxers, pulling out his hard cock, and pumped him in your hand a few times. He pulled away from you enough to let out a few small moans, and then took himself in his own hand. "You're sure, yes?"

You nodded, "I'm sure."

Tommy placed his arm by your head, resting on it as he lined himself up. He gave you one last look of approval, and found nothing in your eyes that made him think you weren't being truthful, and then he guided himself to your entrance, pressing in slowly. He closed his eyes as he felt you, he was convinced that this was what being in heaven felt like. How long he'd wanted you, how long he'd had to watch other men pine over you, and you were finally here, moaning for him, letting him take your virginity.

"Jesus, fuck." He mumbled to himself as he bottomed out, forehead pressed against yours, chest to chest, watching you pant and whine beneath him. "You alright, darling? Can I move?"

"Yes. God, Tommy, please move." You clawed at his back, and he pulled his suit jacket off, leaving him in nothing but his shirt and unbuttoned trousers, and his bicep cuff.

His thrusts were gentle at first, asking you every now and again if you were okay, but his pace soon picked up when he realised how much you were enjoying this. He was pounding into you in no time, having your screams and moans echo through the Chapel, mixing with his own. He figured that no amount of prayer that could go on the next morning would compare to the holiness of the sound of your pleasure.

He could feel you clenching around him, hot and wet and so tight, and he felt himself nearing the edge knowing that you were close too. "Tommy. My God, I'm going to come again."

"Come for me, love, I'm right there, too." He picked his pace up even more, wanting to drag this out for you, make you feel the best you'd ever felt. "Wanna hear those pretty sounds, darling, come on."

His words and the way his face was screwed up in pleasure was enough for you. Your walls clenched around him, and you moaned his name loud enough for the entirety of the town to hear you, and he couldn't hold on any longer either.

He released inside of you, a hot rush that somehow had you feeling even better than before, his forehead rested on your collarbone.

You stayed there, laid like that, him still inside of you and breathing heavily against your skin, for a few minutes, just enjoying how eachother's bodies felt, now. Tommy eventually sat up, and took your hand to help you do the same, zipped and buttoned his trousers, and picked his jacket up from the floor.

"Is that why you brought me here?" You asked quietly, small smirk decorating your lips.

"Yes." He was very matter of fact when he said it, shrugging his jacket on and not even looking at you.

"You brought me to a Chapel, knowing you were going to fuck me."

"Thought it'd be a nice bit of scenery." He raised his eyebrows at you, and you snorted at him.

"You're an ass." You noticed a small, genuine smile make it’s way onto Thomas’s lips. You wondered how on earth he felt the same way about you as you did him.

He turned to you, and quickly placed another kiss on your lips. Not a sexual one, or a hungry one, he didn’t want anything more, it was just a kiss. “Good enough for your first time?"

"Certainly lived up to Lizzie's talk about you." You joked. "Of course it was, Tom. Thank you, for being so gentle, too."

“That’s alright, love. Told you I’m a gentleman in bed, didn’t I?” He stood from his seat, held out his hand to you, and helped you up onto shaky legs, “Come on, I’ll take you back to my place, you can get cleaned up.”

You walked down the aisle of the Chapel, back to the door, and Tommy pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one for each of you as you walked across the Chapel Yard.

“You know, I really wanted those tips at work.”

[ifuckingloveryoshu]

CANTO 6 PART 3 SPOILERS

Im beyond pissed, tumblr crashed in the middle of me doing this so this is going to be so much shorter than I want it to be. NON RYOSHU RELATED POST ABOUT THE HEATHCLIFF. DON'T TAKE WHAT I SAY AS FACT I AM NOT QUALIFIED FOR THIS. LOOK AT THE LINKS I CITE FOR MORE INFORMATION! You can click them when their mentioned. Im not citing in the proper format. This was done on 5 hours of sleep, two eggs, and a box of banana milk.

The Erlkonig or Erlking is this figure in German Mythology who kidnapps children. When he touches you, he kills you. This poem made by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe then adapted to this song is what you see. Erlkoning Heathcliff is trying to intice Heathcliff to die by telling him that it's his fault Cathy is dead. All identities refer to the sinner as "child" when you look into their uptie stories. Mili and the singer of the video here use the same technique of changing the tone and pitch of their voice to differntiate two characters.

The Wild Hunt is a part of Norse Mythology where Odin, mounted on his sixed legged horse Sleipnir, goes through the forest. According to norse-mythology.org, anyone who gets caught up in The Wild Hunt, spotted or seen, gets carried away. Your soul will get incorporated into The Wild Hunt. We all know Erlking Heathcliff did, the rising of the bodies. The Wild Hunt is also mostly describe as having hounds, and who was a hound? Hindleys.

From the same website, on the page of Sleipnir reads,

Also, the horse that heath rides on has a weird liney pattern on it's 4 legs that kind of look like that runestone. There's more connection here, I just don't want to type it again.

How did Project Moon mix two diffrent mythological ideas together? (Its not just two, they mixed so many more.) Meet human mistranslation and the progression of oral tradition and story telling throught time. I don't kno where to start. There was mistranslation poem when, according to ancient-origins.net Johann Gottfried Herder wrote a seperate ballad from the one I linked at the start called Erlkönigs Tochter.

The Anglo-Saxons were early German settlers. This is where things get messy because I have several more potential leaders of the Wild Hunt but here are two, King Herla and Herne The Hunter.

Herne The Hunter: Popularized by Shakespeare potentially from a play called The Merry Wives of Windsor. This man called Jacobb Grimm said that Hene The Hunter was related to Odin. Herne the hunter is this ghost. ( https://mythopedia.com/topics/herne-the-hunter ) Im trying to say there are other media that connect the Erlking to the Wild Hunt but its on Wikipedia so it makes it seem fishy. Another Link Here

King Herla: A british king who attended a dwarf wedding. When he left the wedding, the world had changed. Unbeknowst to him, 300 years had passed and he was claimed to be missing. When his men tried to get off their horses, they turned into dust so they were stuck like that. Read it here, its short. Someone better and more credible than me summed the story up better than I did, historian Chrissy Senecal. Read right here. An additional link to cross refrence if you'd like. King Herla and Odin got conflated together when really, their diffrent people

I found this other website article about Wild Hunts which kind of brings me to the next thing, the Harlequinn. They weild clubs, their devils, the image of them is popularly joyful? Maybe goofy and lighthearted? Perhaps associated with cards? Matt, or Heathcliff's portrayal of Matt. Now, I'm looking at Wikipedia and I see this section.

What do we have here? A mention of the Erlkönig, Dante's Inferno, masked, club weilding giant. Heathcliff's not giant but hes pretty tall, at least by my standards but whatever, im very short. DANTE'S INFERNO, Canto 11 and 12. What the fuck Project Moon, are you playing 5d chess?

Back on topic, Hellequin is the fairy king, and this figure pops up in German, French, Italian, and English folklore. I can't do proper research when all my search results are mixed with random junk and I'm becoming nutty. You will not normally be able to access this article without paying but here's the link anyways. Journal Article from this book on a section about horned deities made in 1922 speaks of a group of ghost riding, who are also huntsman.

And also another mention of Dante's Inferno. The name, Herne The Hunter is mentioned again.

All and all, The link between The Erlkonig and The Wild Hunt isn't as wild and unexplainable as I originally thought. It's just so cool to see all these concepts intersect. There still so much to touch upon like the headless horseman refrence and the Dullahans, RYOSHU COMPARING THE WILD HUNT TO THE PARADE OF 100 SPIRTS, something along that line, I forgot the name. I'm just not the right person to yell about this but I will anyways. The writers mixed so many symbols of death into one character. Such a wild and nutty Canto. Thank you so much Project Moon.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

In Love, in War Pt. 3 | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary | She (the reader) comes from a wealthy family in Birmingham, England and he (Thomas Shelby) comes from a family of no-good troublemakers in Small Heath. Their worlds finally collide when Thomas lands himself in the triage tent of a nearby hospital camp during the battle of the Somme with a neck wound. Past traumas and heavy-handed words open old wounds, and yet, they always find their way back to Birmingham.

Warnings | Death, Smut, Oral Sex, Penetration (P in V), Unprotected sex, Crying, and Fluff.

Age of Consent- New Order 🎶

I Wanna Be Adored- The Stone Roses 🎵

Moonglow- Billie Holiday 🎶

Word count: 2438k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

She heard that he was scheduled for discharge the next afternoon, so she asked for an assignment in the infirmary and offered to remove Thomas’ stitches when she was placed on the rotation. He was smoking when she approached him. 

“Hello, nurse.” He mused and closed his eyes. “So this is it, is it?” 

“I’m afraid so, Shelby.” She played along and blushed when she saw him smile. 

“Then do your worst.” He put the cigarette back between his teeth and turned his head so that she could see the stitches clearly. 

“You’ve healed well. The scarring should be minimal.” 

“That’s a miracle considering I had a horrible nurse. I was better off bleeding out.” He opened his eyes so that he could wink. She smiled and cleaned the stitches before cutting the thread straight across with gentle snips. 

“Sorry.” She apologized as she worked. He winced and exhaled with gritted teeth. 

“Looks like that nurse is back.” He cracked a joke through the pain. 

“Watch what you say, Shelby. I’m still the one with scissors here.” She teased. He quieted down as she removed the thread from the healing wound. She wrapped a thin layer of gauze around his neck and smoothed it out with her thumb. 

“Ah, there’s that nice nurse I know.” 

“Mmm,” she hummed. “You’re in a good mood.” 

“Not for long.” He quieted, his voice sombering slightly. 

“Why?” She stepped back. 

“I’m going back tomorrow. They want to return me to my original unit before they move.” He swallowed. 

“Oh,” she deflated. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll get to see my brothers again. I’ll be alright.” He cleared his throat and took her hand discreetly. “Visit me tonight, outside. I’ll be here waiting for you.” He whispered. 

“What?” She looked around to see if anyone was listening. 

“Meet me tonight. I leave tomorrow afternoon… I need to see you one last time before I leave for old time’s sake.” 

“Old-time’s sake?” She let herself laugh.

“Because of Birmingham. Because you may be the last beautiful woman I see before they pitch me over the side of a mud bank.” He squeezed her hand with a flirtatious smile, though his eyes were sad. 

“Alright.” She nodded finally and stepped away. 

She left her shift that evening and made her way back to her tent. She removed her cap and apron and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. When the sounds of battle quieted, she slipped out of her tent, leaving the sleeping bodies behind, and scurried to the back of the infirmary tent. And as he promised, he was there. His hands were shoved into his deep pockets and he kicked the loose dirt around him. He turned as he heard her approach and met her with a crooked smile. 

“You came.” 

“I had to do it for old time’s sake.” She whispered with a smile. 

“Come on, I have a spot for us to go.” He took her hand and slid it gently into the front pocket of his pants, their fingers intertwined. 

She followed him to the edge of base where the mess tent was erected. 

“What are we doing here?” She laughed quietly. 

“You’ll see.” He hushed her and pulled her through the dark tent into the smaller tent where the head cook slept. A gaslamp was burning in the corner beside a men’s magazine. “I gave him my last box of cigarettes for some time alone in here.” 

“Alone… in here?” She stuttered slightly. He laughed and shook his head. 

“Nothing like that, princess. I wanted to be away from the infirmary for a little while and here, we don’t have to worry about other people.” 

She didn’t completely believe him but she hummed in understanding and stepped closer. Thomas watched her and raised an eyebrow. 

“Now, princess. I clearly remember making a promise not to touch you just the other night.” He teased. 

“We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean.” She whispered back and ran a hand through his hair, shaved on either side like a gangster. 

“Do you dance?” He took her hands from his head and placed one around his neck. 

“I may, if I’m asked nicely.” She shrugged. 

“Mmm, then may I have the pleasure of this dance?” He murmured near her cold lips. 

“You may.” She let him slip his hand around her waist and pull her ever so slightly closer to him. He guided her into a slow wavering dance, like two flames fighting on one wick. “Shelby,” she whispered against his neck, “there isn’t any music.” 

“Eh? I could swear I heard it in my head. Come closer, maybe you’ll hear it.” He smiled and lowered his head to rest against hers. 

She rubbed her cheek against his and listened to the muffled heartbeats between their two chests. He spun her and she laughed quietly, spinning back into place against his warm chest. She kissed him abruptly and he moaned quietly against her lips. 

“What are you doing, Princess?” Thomas pulled away and pressed his index finger against her mouth. 

“My duty, Shelby, for the crown and my country. For Birmingham.” She whispered and blinked rapidly. 

“Yeh?” He smirked with a raised eyebrow. “For this Small Heath boy?” 

“It’s the least I can do.” She shrugged playfully. 

“Don’t go making jokes, nurse.” 

“I’m not, Shelby. Like you said last night, you’re the first Birmingham boy I’ve seen in months, and I hope you’re the last. I don’t want to see another while I’m here. Stay alive.” She kissed him again and this time, he let her. She explored his mouth with her tongue, slipping it in and out, tasting and taunting. He kissed her deeply and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up so that she was standing on the balls of her feet. She kicked off her shoes as she removed the shawl from around her neck and laid it on the cot, then she slid the suspenders off of Thomas’ shoulders. 

“Are you sure, princess?” He paused, glancing down at the fallen suspenders.

“Yes, Shelby.” She smiled and moved his hands to the front of her uniform. “Undress me.” She whispered patiently and helped him undo the first button at the bottom of her neck. He blinked and nodded, undoing the fabric buttons down to her waist. He pulled the shirtwaist up and set it gently to the side, covering the men’s magazine. The top of her shift showed without the blouse and her nipples puckered beneath the cotton fabric like knots. 

“Now my skirt.” She moved his hands to the small of her waist and helped him undo the clasp that connected either side of the skirt. It slid down her legs and she stepped out of it. It was moved to the side. She was in her shift and black stockings, her hair loose down her back. 

“Can I undress you?” She asked Thomas and he nodded. She pulled his shirt over his head and put it beside her’s. He slipped off his slippers from the infirmary before she unbuttoned the front of his trousers and pulled them down to his feet. He looked down at her in his open-legged boxers, showing the smooth pale skin on his thighs. He kissed her as she pulled him down with her onto the cook’s cot. He undid the bow holding her slip together at the bust and exhaled when he saw her breasts. He held the back of her head as he kissed her and moaned when she undid the buttons at the top of his boxers. His penis was hard when she removed him from his underwear. She pushed his chest up into a sitting position and leaned over his lap, taking him in her mouth. She circled her tongue around the soft head and pushed his length deep into her throat, humming. Thomas gasped softly as he watched her take him on. 

“Not as prude as I thought you were, nurse.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, closing his eyes. 

“No?” She pulled her mouth off his cock with a soft pop, a string of saliva trailing from her tongue. 

“Fuck.” He lost his train of thought and bucked his hips involuntarily. She smiled and kissed him, pulling his head down to hers. She pulled him all the way down to where she could lie flat on her back and stroked his cock with her free hand. He paused once again to look at her. 

“Eh, have you done this before?” He furrowed his brow, concerned. She looked back, blinking away the momentary sadness from her eyes, ignoring the image of Francis in the blue of Thomas’ eyes. 

“Yes.” She whispered, her voice nearly silent. He stared at her for a moment, connecting the dots in his head and nodded. He kissed her gently and slipped his hands below the skirt of her shift. He pushed the fabric up, exposing her sex and bare thighs. He pressed himself between her thighs, his hand running over the thick black stockings on her right leg. 

“Are you wet?” He asked between kisses. 

“See for yourself, Shelby.” She mumbled and felt him smile softly against her lips when he easily slipped a finger inside her.

“Fucking hell.” He sighed and aligned himself against her hips. She held his throat lightly with her hand and touched his nose to hers. When he entered her, she inhaled tightly. 

“Breathe.” He reminded her. She exhaled and whimpered as he moved. His hips crushed hers into the mesh cot below. He was long and filled her up, hitting the back of her cervix with each thrust. She gasped as he thrusted, slow and deep, where the sensations were magnified. 

“Fuck!” He gasped, bucking his hips as she moaned. “I fucking needed this, jesus christ.” He fucked her harder and she moaned into the hot skin of his neck. 

“Oh god, Thomas.” She cried into him and panted. He looked down as he pushed in and out of her, and groaned in pleasure. “Fuck this is so much better than I remember,” she admitted and dug her nails into his back. 

“That’s it, nurse.” He smiled and fucked her harder, her breasts shook between them from the movement and he licked the hot, pink flesh around the buds. “You have beautiful fucking tits.” He suckled at the nipple and she moaned louder. “Do it in my ear, love. I can’t hear you.” He shifted his weight onto his forearms on either side of her face and rested his head on her shoulder. She turned so that her mouth was against his ear. She gasped and whined as Thomas fucked her.

“Are you going to come, nurse?” He asked raspily and she nodded eagerly against him. 

“God, Shelby. Do you even have to ask?” She whined in his ear and felt her thighs squeeze around his hips. “God, this is so good-” 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He gasped as she squeezed around his swollen penis. “You’re cunt is perfect, so fucking perfect.” He grabbed her thigh and threw her leg over his shoulder, pushing himself back up. With her leg over his shoulder, he fucked her harder and deeper than he had before and she nearly screamed in pleasure and stimulation. One of her hands flew to the edge of the cot and the other clamped over her mouth to stifle the noise. The cot squeaked erotically beneath them. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” He smirked and trailed a finger down her thigh. A tear fell from her eye and she moaned loudly, spasming and cumming. He moaned and slowed his thrusts as he reached his climax too. He pulled out before he could cum and spat his hot semen into the tent’s dirt floor, rubbing his cock with his hand to finish himself off. He panted and she draped herself against him. 

“Do all Small Heath boys fuck like that?” She asked haltingly. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t had any.” He smiled at his own joke. She hit him playfully and hugged him around his arms, flattening them against his body. He moved her arms and shifted so that he could hold her in his arms. 

“That was fucking amazing.” He whispered in her ear and she laughed. 

“Francis never made me feel like that.” She remembered and he stifled a snort. 

“I would prefer to say nothing on that subject.” He said instead and she pretended to bite his cheek. “I’m fucking exhausted now.” He sighed against her and she drew her finger in zigzags across his jaw. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” She asked. He looked down at her and played with her breast with his large hand. 

“I’d like that, nurse.” 

She shifted below him and buried her body into the space between his arms. Thomas laid on his back, his arms around her shoulders. She looked up at his face, cast in soft orange light from the lamp, and watched as a tear slipped down his cheek. 

“Why are you crying?” She wiped the tears away. He looked down at her, words escaping him.  

“I lost someone too, nurse, just like your Francis. She died from consumption… just weeks before I shipped out.” He stared up at the ceiling.

“And you loved her.” She added gently. 

“Yeh, I think I did.” He smiled painfully and she held him closer. 

“Then why are you crying, Thomas?” 

“Because this was the first time I'd thought of her in a while. I’ve managed to forget until now, but you remind me of her.” He couldn’t meet her eyes, emotion weighed heavy in his throat and he swallowed it down. She shifted her head on his pale chest and traced a muscle in his stomach with her index finger. 

“What was her name?” 

He took a deep breath, willing himself to say the name that he hadn’t been able to say in months. “Greta.” He nodded as he said her name slowly. He turned onto his side and held her jaw in his right hand, his thumb brushing the hollow of her cheek. 

“All these things that we’ve lost and still life goes on.” She whispered and prodded his lips with her fingers, feeling the plushness of his skin beneath her fingertips. She said nothing but wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her against his chest. He put his chin against the top of her head and closed his eyes. It was too warm to wear their clothes to bed, so they slept in their underwear and woke at dawn.

...................

End of pt. 3 :)

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Nocturnal Allies

Thomas Shelby x F! Vampire Reader

Summary: Thomas encounters a new and mysterious presence, an alluring vampire who has taken an interest in the city, along with him.

Wordcount: 18.8k

Warnings:

graphic descriptions, p in v, fingering, (f) oral receiving, dom Thomas?! The smut is really far down and angst if you squint,but please enjoy.

This is/isn’t a one-shot, idk yet because it’s around 18k, but it’s also a series..also I think this counts as necrophilia. It’s in the authors notes. That helps explain it.

The familiar comfort of his surroundings offered little solace as dusk began to roll in, casting long shadows across the room. He glanced at the clock, its ticking a constant reminder of time slipping away.

Unable to quell the unease gnawing at him, Thomas shrugged on his coat and stepped out into the cool evening air. The streets of Small Heath were quieting down, the bustle of the day giving way to the hushed whispers of night. As he walked, the sky deepened into a dark, velvety hue, stars beginning to pierce through the twilight. Tonight, Birmingham's darkened streets awaited him, and Thomas was more than ready to face whatever the shadows held.

The streets of Small Heath were shrouded in the embrace of night, the once bustling alleys now cloaked in a heavy, palpable silence. Thomas moved with calculated precision, his every step resonating softly against the cobblestones. The gas lamps cast a dim, flickering light, elongating the shadows that danced along the narrow pathways. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail, every potential threat, with the astuteness of a man who had navigated these treacherous streets countless times.

As he walked, a prickle of unease crept along the back of his neck. Thomas's instincts, honed by years of survival in a world of deceit and danger, alerted him to the presence of another. The soft, almost imperceptible scuff of shoes behind him confirmed his suspicion. With a practiced motion, he unbuckled his gun belt, the weight of his weapon a familiar and reassuring presence. He continued to walk, his senses now hyper-aware, ready to confront whatever menace lurked in the shadows.

But then, a new sound reached his ears— the distinctive click of heels against the cobblestones, a rhythm too refined and deliberate to belong to a common assailant. Thomas's grip on his gun relaxed slightly, and he paused, listening intently. The footsteps grew closer, echoing with a strange mix of confidence and caution. He clasped his gun belt back into place, his mind racing through the possibilities of who might be following him at this hour.

Turning slowly, Thomas called out into the darkness, his voice steady and commanding. "I'm not interested in your services," he declared, the words carrying a weight of authority and disinterest. The silhouette of a woman emerged from the shadows, her figure draped in the elegant fashions of the era. The moonlight caught her features, revealing a beauty both strange and captivating. For a moment, they stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken questions and an undercurrent of intrigue. Thomas's gaze remained steady, his expression inscrutable, as he waited to see what intentions this nocturnal visitor harbored.

"But it will be an experience you shan't ever forget,"

Her silhouette becoming clearer under the pale moonlight, her voice, smooth and sultry, carried the faintest hint of an exotic accent. she purred, her lips curling into a seductive smile. Her eyes, dark and glittering like onyx, locked onto Thomas's with a magnetic intensity. "Come now…darling~"

She coaxed, extending a gloved hand towards him, the invitation laced with both promise and peril. "Let us indulge in a bit of amusement, shall we?" Her tone was playful yet commanding, a tantalizing blend of allure and authority that was impossible to ignore. Her persistence was both surprising and intriguing, a quality he rarely encountered in the women of Small Heath. Her beauty, though unconventional, held a captivating allure, her eyes a mesmerizing shade that seemed to hold secrets untold.

"I take it you've never been told no before," he remarked, his voice low and smooth, betraying none of the curiosity that simmered beneath his steely exterior.

He observed her closely, noting the determination in her stance, the way her chin lifted slightly in defiance. She looked rather pale compared to him, almost like a ghostly white color.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you before," Thomas continued, his tone a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

As he spoke, Thomas noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her gaze softened ever so slightly. There was a vulnerability there, a hint of longing that mirrored his own. In that moment, he found himself drawn to her in a way he could not explain. It was a dangerous game they were playing, one that could unravel the carefully constructed facade he had built over the years. Yet, as he looked into her eyes, Thomas knew that he was willing to take that risk.

"Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"

“_______, _______ Everhart….” Pausing for a moment, “Thomas Shelby?”

Thomas's brow furrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. He had not mentioned his name, yet she spoke it as if she had known all along. "And how, pray tell, do you know my name?" he asked, his tone guarded yet intrigued.

The woman's smile widened, a playful glint in her eyes. "A man of your stature leaves an impression, Mr. Shelby," she replied cryptically. "One that is not easily forgotten." Her words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning, leaving Thomas to wonder about the woman who seemed to know more than she let on.

His gaze, sharp and calculating, meeting her gaze with a piercing intensity that bespoke his keen observation. "You speak with an accent that's not from here," he remarked, his voice low and measured, "Are you a traveler?"

She was caught off guard by his sudden questioning of her whereabouts, but she hesitated before responding. “You could say that…does it matter where I’m from..”

"Tell me," Thomas continued, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo through the dimly lit alley, "What brings you to our humble town? Surely, there are more welcoming destinations for a traveler such as yourself."

"Believe me, there are plenty of welcoming destinations for me," she continued, her tone suggestive yet tinged with a hint of intrigue, "but the atmosphere here is so inviting in the night~"

Her voice was like a siren's song, luring him closer with each alluring syllable. He studied her, his gaze unwavering, trying to decipher the enigma that stood before him.

Her words were a puzzle, a riddle that begged to be unraveled. Thomas could sense the allure of danger emanating from her, a dangerous beauty that drew him in despite his better judgment. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with anticipation, his instincts warning him of the danger that lurked beneath her captivating facade.

Yet, despite the warning bells ringing in his mind, Thomas felt a pull towards her, a magnetic attraction that he couldn't ignore. He took a step closer, the distance between them narrowing, his eyes never leaving hers. There was a challenge in her gaze, a daring invitation that dared him to delve deeper into the darkness that surrounded them.

His gaze lingered on her lips, in the light from the moon and street lamps he caught the crimson smear, stark against her porcelain skin. It was a sight that would have unsettled most, but Thomas was not most men. His mind, sharp as a razor, immediately began to piece together the puzzle before him. He observed her with a measured gaze, noting the way she tried to conceal the telltale sign of her recent indulgence. The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, the weight of her secret hanging heavy in the space between them. Yet, there was something intriguing about her, something that stirred a primal instinct within Thomas.

“Is everything alright…?”

He inquired, his voice low and controlled. He could sense her hesitation, the unspoken words that hung on the tip of her tongue. Thomas was no stranger to the darkness that lurked within the human soul, but he felt like she….wasn’t human.

His eye snaked around her features once more as he noticed they now began to take on an otherworldly glow, her eyes shining with an ethereal light that sent a shiver down his spine. The faint, red glow emanating from her gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness, revealing a truth that defied rational explanation. As he observed her, Thomas noticed something that sent a ripple of unease through him. Dark veins, like tendrils of shadow, snaked their way across her delicate features, framing eyes that now seemed to hold a depth of ancient knowledge. His mind raced, searching for a logical explanation, but finding none. She wasn't human, that much was clear, and the realization sent a chill through him.

As Thomas’s keen eyes locked onto the woman before him, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was amiss. Her smile, once warm and inviting, now held a hint of something more primal, something predatory. Before he could react, her transformation began, her canine teeth elongating into sharp, glistening fangs, a sight that sent a chill down Thomas's spine.

In an instant, the woman's demeanor shifted from benign to menacing. With a strength that belied her appearance, she grabbed Thomas with a fierce grip, slamming him to the ground with a force that left him gasping for air. The impact reverberated through his body, his bones protesting against the unforgiving cobblestone streets of Small Heath, Birmingham. As Thomas struggled to regain his composure, the realization of what he was facing began to sink in. This was no ordinary encounter; this was a confrontation with a creature of the night, a vampire. Despite his fear, Thomas's mind raced, searching for a way to turn the tide in his favor. He knew he was outmatched in strength, but he was not one to be easily defeated.

Before he could gather his wits, she was upon him, her grip like a vice as she yanked his head to the side, exposing his vulnerable neck. In that moment, her eyes, once filled with a strange allure, now gleamed with an otherworldly hunger, devoid of any humanity. This was no ordinary encounter; it was a primal struggle between predator and prey, played out in the shadows of the Small Heath, Birmingham cobblestone streets. Her laughter, sweet and mocking, pierced the night, a chilling soundtrack to the horror unfolding. With a taunting promise of minimal pain, she sank her fangs into his flesh, and Thomas Shelby, a man of power and control, found himself helpless against the onslaught. A scream tore from his throat, a raw symphony of agony and shock, but it was futile, drowned out by the sounds of his own life being siphoned away.

As she drank, her hand cradled his face, a cruel gesture of dominance that bent his neck further, granting her greater access to his life force. The sensation of his own blood flowing into her mouth was surreal, a macabre dance of death that defied comprehension. Thomas felt his strength ebbing away, his very essence being drained by this creature of the night. In that harrowing moment, he faced the stark reality of mortality, a reality that no amount of power or influence could shield him from.

In the dim glow of the moonlight, Thomas lay still; his senses reeling from the onslaught of sensations that had engulfed him moments before. The pain that had coursed through his veins ebbed and flowed like the tides, leaving him suspended in a surreal limbo between life and death. As he gradually regained his sight, the scene before him unfolded with a macabre clarity that chilled him to the bone.

Above him loomed the figure of the enigmatic woman, her features bathed in the ethereal glow of the night. Her countenance, once alluring and mysterious, now bore the unmistakable mark of her recent feast, her lips stained crimson with his blood. Thomas watched in silent horror as the scarlet droplets trickled down her chin, pooling at the hollow of her throat like a perverse necklace of rubies. A soft, mocking laughter escaped her lips, the sound echoing through the stillness of the night like a haunting refrain. Her eyes, glinting with a predatory gleam, locked onto his own with a chilling intensity. With a grip like iron, she seized a handful of his hair, forcing him to meet her gaze in a macabre dance of dominance and submission.

"You taste different," she remarked, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down Thomas's spine. "And yet, here you are, the first to survive my embrace." Her words dripped with a sinister allure, her fangs retracting with an almost casual indifference. "Normally," she continued, a twisted smile playing at the corners of her blood-stained lips, "I simply tear out their throats."

In that moment, Thomas felt a cold realization wash over him like a tide of dread. He was in the presence of something beyond human comprehension, a creature of the night whose desires and motives remained shrouded in darkness. As he lay there, helpless beneath her gaze, he knew that his fate hung precariously in the balance, at the mercy of a being whose hunger knew no bounds.

Thomas’s eyes lingered once more on her lips, captivated by the softness of her voice and the sincerity in her words. It was a moment of unexpected vulnerability, a crack in the armor of his stoic facade. As she spoke, a strange fluttering stirred within him, a sensation he hadn't felt in years. It was as if a new-found attraction had taken root, blossoming in the midst of chaos and uncertainty.

She rose from his lap with a grace that left him momentarily breathless, "Now, it's definitely going to hurt when you wake up in the mornin'," she said, her words echoing in his ears, "but... I'll be there to help."

She stood before him, looking down at him with a mixture of admiration and respect. "You should be proud of yourself," she continued, her voice soft yet firm, "you were wonderful."

With a groan, Thomas pushed himself upright, his body protesting the sudden movement. He searched for his fallen cap, the tangible symbol of his authority, amidst the scattered remnants of their encounter. As she retrieved it for him, he couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude, a silent acknowledgment of her unexpected kindness. She offered him her hand.

Reluctantly, Thomas accepted her outstretched hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet with a strength that belied her delicate appearance. For a moment, he felt unsteady, the world tilting precariously on its axis. Yet, as he stood beside her, he found himself strangely reassured, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded them. In that fleeting moment, Thomas Shelby realized that he was not alone, that there was someone willing to stand by his side, even in the face of adversity.

Thomas stood before the mysterious woman, her words hanging in the air like a dark omen. The bite on his neck throbbed with a dull ache, a reminder of the danger that was now standing before him. He regarded her with a steely gaze, his jaw clenched in silent defiance.

"The bite will eventually heal but it’s going to be permanent," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice soft yet laced with an unspoken warning. "I’d hide it from the public eye..it’s better that way."

Thomas's gaze flickered to the wound on his neck, a grim realization settling over him. Reluctantly, he reached up and rubbed the tender skin, hissing softly as pain flared up. The woman approached him, her movements graceful yet purposeful, and cupped his face in her hands. His eyes widened slightly at the unexpected touch, a flicker of vulnerability betraying his stoic facade once again.

"I can make it better," she offered, her voice a soothing whisper, "but it’s going to be temporary. However, it’s not a normal way..."

Thomas looked at her, pain and fear shimmering in his eyes. He wanted to refuse, to assert his strength and resilience. "I'll be fine" he managed to utter, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed his bravado. The woman chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down Thomas's spine. She knew, as he did, that he wasn't going to be fine come the next morning. With a gentle yet firm insistence, she offered her solution once more, her eyes locking with his in a silent challenge.

"You’re going to feel like you're on fire tomorrow morning if you don’t let me fix it," she warned, her voice carrying a weight of inevitability.

Thomas hesitated, the weight of his pride warring with the knowledge that his defiance could lead to consequences far more dire than the initial wound. He knew the risks, knew the dangers that lay ahead. With a sigh of resignation, he nodded, a silent acceptance of her offer.

The dark and silent cobblestone streets of Small Heath, Birmingham was filled with a tense silence as the woman looked at him before letting go of him. She moved her wrist to her mouth and sunk her teeth into her own veins, blood streaming from her wrist as he watched. “It’s going the taste weird but that’s okay..”

She held her wrist up to his mouth and then told him to drink, her method was unorthodox yet strangely effective. Thomas’s eyes were closed tightly as he carefully grabbed her wrist and drank from her and it became a silent testament to his resolve. She felt that he had enough and pulled her wrist away from him and it healed immediately like the blood was magic. Thomas felt better, the pain in his neck was still there but in the background, nevertheless this whole incident was still repeatedly replaying in his head. He nervously spoke out;

“How… how old are you?” he asked, his voice betraying a rare hint of uncertainty.

He could scarcely believe the events of the past few hours. A vampire in Small Heath, and now, this enigmatic woman with her piercing eyes and ethereal beauty.

The woman’s eyes grew heavy with a shadow of pain, the weight of centuries evident in her gaze. “One hundred and sixty-two years young,” she replied softly. “I was born in 1758.”

She paused once more, clearing her throat. “I was 24 when I became what I am today…”

Thomas stared at her, his mind reeling. She was almost two centuries old, yet she looked no older than her early twenties. The sheer impossibility of it all left him in awe. The alleyway seemed to grow colder, the air thick with an eerie stillness. His eyes traced the delicate contours of her face, noting the ageless beauty that masked a lifetime far beyond his own. Her existence defied all logic and reason. He struggled to reconcile the young woman before him with the reality of her ancient past. She was a living paradox, a timeless enigma wrapped in a veneer of youthful allure.

Noticing his newfound bewilderment, the woman offered him a sad, knowing smile. Her lips curved gently, a faint echo of the centuries she had endured. She took a step back, her movements fluid and graceful, like a dancer in the moonlight. The distance between them felt vast and insurmountable, a chasm filled with the unknown. Thomas’s breath caught in his throat as she raised her hand, blowing him a delicate kiss. The gesture was hauntingly intimate, a fleeting connection that left him both entranced and unsettled. Before he could utter a word, she turned and moved towards the nearest building, her every step a testament to her otherworldly nature.

With a final, lingering glance, she leaped effortlessly into the night, her form a shadow against the darkened sky. Thomas rushed to the building she was just at, his heart pounding in his chest. He watched in silent astonishment as she bounded across rooftops, her silhouette darting between homes and businesses with the agility of a creature born to the night. She moved with an elegance that belied her supernatural origins, her figure blending seamlessly with the shadows. The cityscape of Birmingham seemed to blur around her as she disappeared into the inky darkness, leaving him with only the memory of her haunting presence

The night air was crisp and cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that still lingered from her touch. Thomas leaned against the building’s window frame, his mind a tumultuous whirl of thoughts and emotions. The reality of her existence challenged everything he knew, forcing him to confront the mysteries that lay hidden in the world around him. He could still feel the ghost of her kiss on his cheek, a delicate brush of eternity that left him yearning for answers. The streets of Small Heath were silent, the usual screeching of city life hushed in the wake of her departure. He stood there for what felt like hours, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts.

Her revelation had changed something within him, igniting a spark of curiosity and wonder. The secrets she carried, the history etched into her very being, beckoned to him like a siren’s call. Thomas knew that his life would never be the same, that the encounter had opened a door to a world he had never imagined. As dawn began to break, casting a pale light over Small Heath, Thomas finally tore himself away from the building’s window frame. He decided it was time to head back home. The events of the night played over and over in his mind, a haunting symphony of mystery and allure. He knew he had to uncover the truth, to understand the enigma that was the woman born in 1758.

With a deep sigh, he eventually returned home; his resolve hardening. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but Thomas Shelby was no stranger to danger and intrigue. He knew she would find him again and when she did, he would demand the answers that he deserved. For now, he had a glimpse of the extraordinary, a taste of the supernatural, and it was enough to set his mind ablaze with possibilities. Thomas made it back home, and to his amazement everyone was sound asleep still. He made his way upstairs to his room, The morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow on the papers scattered across his desk. The ordinary world seemed to pale in comparison to the wonders and dangers that lay just beyond his grasp. Thomas sat down, his mind was blank. He needed to get some sleep. For a moment, he closed his eyes and let the memory of her voice wash over him, a haunting melody of time and eternity. The journey ahead was uncertain, but he was ready to face it head-on. After all, Thomas Shelby was not a man easily deterred, and the mystery of the vampire woman was a challenge he could not resist.

As the city of Birmingham awoke to a new day, Thomas was asleep at his desk. The sun was peaking through the curtains, eventually he awoke from his sleep from the sun beaming down into his eyes but as his mind settled he felt sense of purpose burning within him. The encounter from last night had changed him, opened his eyes to a world of possibilities and dangers.

Thomas groaned softly, the dull ache in his neck a stark reminder of the previous night's surreal encounter. The pain was unrelenting, searing through him with each movement, confirming that it was no mere dream. His thoughts were consumed by her – the enigmatic woman whose presence had forever altered the course of his life. If only he could find her, perhaps she could put an end to this torment. Just as the thought crossed his mind, the sound of his aunt Polly's footsteps echoed up the staircase, followed by a firm knock on his door.

"Thomas, get yourself dressed and come downstairs this instant," Polly's voice commanded, brooking no argument.

"I'll be down in a minutee, Pol!" he shouted back, wincing as the pain flared again.

With a grunt of effort, Thomas rose from his desk, the room still shrouded in the afternoon gloom. He moved with deliberate care, his hand instinctively reaching for the tender wound at his neck. Dressing swiftly, he donned his customary suit, the ritual of buttoning up his waistcoat offering a momentary distraction from the throbbing discomfort. His reflection in the mirror revealed a man who had aged overnight, his usually composed demeanor now marred by lines of pain and fatigue.

Descending the stairs, he found solace in the familiar creak of the wooden steps, each one a reminder of the life he had built amidst the chaos of Small Heath, Birmingham. He paused at the bottom, taking a deep breath to steady himself before entering the kitchen where Polly awaited. The scent of freshly brewed tea mingled with the morning air, a small comfort in the midst of his turmoil. Polly stood by the stove, her expression a blend of impatience and concern.

"What's the matter with you this morning?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she took in his disheveled appearance.

Thomas forced a smile, masking the pain with a facade of nonchalance. "Nothing, Pol. Just a rough night, that's all."

Polly's lips twitched in a knowing smile. "Well, there's a girl here to see you. Claims she needs to speak with you urgently." She paused, a hint of skepticism coloring her tone. "I thought she might be one of those ladies, you know, claiming you’ve gotten her into trouble."

Thomas's heart skipped a beat, but he maintained his outward composure. "Is that so?" he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Polly's eyes bore into his, searching for any hint of deceit. "Yes, but I have my doubts. She doesn't look like the usual sort."

Without another word, Thomas strode towards the door, his mind racing. It had to be her – the woman whose bite now marked his neck, whose very existence defied reason. Pushing open the door, he found her standing by the window, bathed in the soft light of dawn. Her presence was both ethereal and haunting, a stark contrast to the mundane world around them.

She turned to face him, her eyes heavy with an unspoken burden. "Thomas," she began, her voice a soft melody that sent shivers down his spine.

He closed the door behind him after stepping outside, the sound echoing through small front room the like a finality. "You-how…how did you find me..?" he said, his tone a mix of relief and apprehension.

The woman regarded him calmly, her expression inscrutable. Without a word, she tilted her neck slightly, revealing the bite wound that marked her pale skin. Her finger pointed to the punctures, a silent testament to the bond they now shared. The realization struck Thomas like a thunderbolt – the bite had linked them inextricably, tying their fates together in a way he had never anticipated. His eyes shuddered at the memory of the previous night, a kaleidoscope of pain and bewilderment. Instinctively, his hand went to the bite mark on his own neck, and he winced as the familiar sting flared up once more. The wound was a constant reminder of the night’s surreal events, an ever-present token of his encounter with the extraordinary.

The woman’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile as she stepped closer. Her hand, cool and gentle, brushed his aside, making contact with the bite mark. The relief was immediate and profound, a soothing balm against the relentless throb. Thomas’s breath hitched, a mix of gratitude and unease swirling within him as he felt the pain ebb away.

“Look at me, Thomas,” she murmured, her voice a soft command that brooked no refusal. Her fingers cupped his face, her thumb tracing a gentle path across his cheek. The touch was both tender and possessive, a silent assertion of the power she held over him.

Thomas found himself obeying, his gaze locking with hers. Her eyes held a depth of experience and sorrow that belied her youthful appearance, a centuries-old wisdom that both fascinated and unsettled him. The world seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. “How?” he managed to whisper, the question hanging in the air between them. He needed answers, a way to make sense of the inexplicable. The woman’s presence was a paradox, a blend of allure and menace that defied his usual certainty. She sighed softly, her breath a whisper against his skin. “The bond… is forged in blood, Thomas. Your wound and mine—they tie us together, a connection that transcends the ordinary.” Her words were measured, each one carrying a weight of inevitability.

He swallowed hard, the reality of her explanation sinking in. The implications were staggering, a challenge to his carefully constructed world. But he was Thomas Shelby, and he would not be cowed by fear or uncertainty. He straightened, his resolve hardening even as he acknowledged the truth of her words. Her hand remained on his cheek, the touch grounding him in the midst of his turmoil. “You must understand, this bond is not something to be taken lightly,” she continued, her voice low and insistent. “It brings both power and peril, a link that can be both a blessing and a curse.”

Thomas's gaze hardened, the pain in his neck a constant reminder of the previous night. "Why did you do this to me?" he demanded, his voice edged with a rare vulnerability.

She looked at him with a sense of pain, but she didn’t want him to see it but she believed he already did. “Something in me told me last night to do what I did..”

Thomas nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of her statement. He could feel the pulse of their connection, a subtle thrum beneath his skin. It was both disconcerting and oddly comforting, a reminder that he was not alone in this strange new reality.

She released her hold on his face, stepping back slightly, though her presence still loomed large. “The pain will return,” she warned, her tone somber. “But I can offer respite, a way to mitigate the worst of it. You must trust me, Thomas.”

Trust. The word echoed in his mind, a concept that had always been in short supply in his world. But looking into her eyes, he saw a glimmer of something genuine, a sincerity that cut through his skepticism. He nodded once more, a silent agreement to this unspoken pact. The minutes stretched on, the silence between them laden with meaning. She moved with a grace that spoke of centuries of experience, a fluid elegance that belied her formidable strength. Thomas watched her, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the woman before him with the reality of his existence.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a statement of fact, an acknowledgment of the extraordinary circumstances that had brought them together.

“No,” she replied simply, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “And you, Thomas Shelby, are not like any mortal I’ve encountered. There is a fire within you, a tenacity that draws me to you.”

The admission hung in the air, a fragile bridge between their worlds. Thomas felt a strange sense of kinship, a bond forged not just in blood but in shared defiance. They were both outliers, navigating the shadows with a determination that set them apart.

The woman before him, a creature of the night, exuded an allure that was as intoxicating as it was dangerous. He knew she could have easily ended his life the night before, yet here she stood, a tantalizing enigma. An overwhelming urge surged within him, a desire that defied all reason and caution.

Without a word, Thomas stepped closer, his gaze locked onto hers. He could see the centuries in her eyes, the weight of time etched into her soul. His hand reached out, cupping her face with a tenderness that surprised even him. Her curly hair framed her face in wild, beautiful disarray. Gently, he brushed the strands aside, his thumb grazing her cheek with a slow, deliberate motion. The softness of her skin beneath his rough fingers sent a shiver down his spine.

The world outside fading into insignificance. All that mattered was this moment, this inexplicable connection. Thomas leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, the anticipation thick in the air. Their lips met in an explosion of passion, a kiss that was both fierce and tender. It was as if the very essence of their beings were colliding, an intimate dance of fire and ice. His free arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. He could feel the contours of her body against his, a perfect fit that ignited a primal desire within him. With a careful yet firm grip, he turned her around, pressing her against the cold, unforgiving stone wall of his home. The contrast between the warmth of their bodies and the chill of the wall heightened the intensity of the moment.

Thomas's knee slid between her legs, a deliberate move that elicited a gasp from her lips. The intimacy of their position was undeniable, a raw, unfiltered connection that transcended words. His mouth moved against hers with a fervor that spoke of suppressed longing, a need that had lain dormant for far too long. He could taste her essence, a tantalizing blend of danger and desire. The kiss deepened, their tongues entwining in a dance of mutual hunger. Thomas's hand moved from her face to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her close. Every touch, every caress, was imbued with a mixture of reverence and possessiveness. He was claiming her, marking her as his own, even as he surrendered himself to the powerful emotions she stirred within him.

She responded with equal fervor, her hands roaming over his back, clutching at his shirt as if to anchor herself in the storm of their passion. Her nails grazed his skin, sending electric jolts of pleasure through his body. The sensation was both exhilarating and grounding, a reminder of their shared vulnerability in this moment of heightened emotion. Time seemed to stand still, each second stretching into an eternity of bliss. Thomas was acutely aware of every detail: the softness of her lips, the heat of her breath, the rhythm of her heart beating in tandem with his own. It was a symphony of sensations, a harmony of desire and connection that transcended the physicality of nature.

Their kiss was a silent confession, a merging of souls that spoke of unspoken truths and forbidden longings. Thomas could feel the weight of her history, the centuries of existence that set her apart from the mortal world. Yet in this moment, she was achingly human, a woman caught in the same whirlwind of passion and need that consumed him. He pressed her harder against the wall, his body shielding her from the harshness of the world outside. It was a protective instinct, a desire to keep her safe even as he claimed her. The intensity of their connection was almost overwhelming, a force of nature that neither could resist.

As they finally broke apart, their breaths came in ragged gasps, their foreheads resting against each other. The air between them crackled with residual energy, the aftermath of their passionate exchange. Thomas's eyes bore into hers, searching for answers in the depths of her soul. He saw a reflection of his own tumultuous emotions, a mirror of the longing and fear that gripped him. In that moment, he realized the depth of his feelings for her, the undeniable pull that drew him to her despite the dangers. She was a paradox, a blend of light and darkness that fascinated and terrified him in equal measure. And yet, he couldn't deny the bond that had formed between them, a connection that went beyond the physicality of nature.

With a final, lingering kiss, Thomas pulled away, his hand still cradling her face. "We'll figure this out," he murmured, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. "Together."

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The vulnerability in her gaze was a stark contrast to the strength he knew lay within her. In that moment, he made a silent vow to protect her, to face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side. As they stood there, locked in a silent embrace, the world outside continued its relentless march; time had ceased to matter. They were bound by a shared destiny, a path that neither could have foreseen but were now irrevocably committed to walking together.

He glanced at her, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright with the remnants of their passion. Just as he was about to speak, the front door swung open with a force that made both their heads snap toward the entrance. Aunt Polly stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. The tension in the front door area shifted, charged with the unexpected intrusion. Thomas could see the flicker of recognition in Polly’s eyes, the knowing look that told him she was already aware of more than she let on.

“So, she was telling the truth,” Aunt Polly said, her voice edged with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You did get this poor girl in trouble.”

Thomas’s surprise was evident. He had expected a scolding, perhaps even a lecture, but not this sudden acceptance. His mouth opened, but no words came out, as if he had been caught off guard in the middle of a confession. The woman beside him shifted uncomfortably, her previous confidence wavering under Polly’s scrutinizing gaze. Polly’s eyes softened as she took a step forward, her demeanor shifting from stern matriarch to concerned guardian. She reached out and took the woman’s hand, her grip firm but gentle. “Come with me,” Polly said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s get you inside and sort this out.”

Thomas watched in silence, still reeling from the swift change in Polly’s attitude. It wasn’t often that his aunt showed such immediate acceptance, especially with someone who had only just entered their lives. As Polly led the woman towards the house, Thomas found himself following, drawn by a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Pol, you don’t have to do this..”

“Tommy, I’m going to do this because I know you won’t..

Inside the Peaky Blinders’ home, the atmosphere was markedly different. The chaos of the outside world seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of familial security. Polly guided the woman to a seat by the fireplace, her movements careful and deliberate. Thomas stood by the doorway, his eyes fixed on the scene, his mind racing with questions.

“Sit down, love,” Polly said, her voice soothing. “Tell me everything.”

The woman hesitated, glancing at Thomas for reassurance. He gave a slight nod, his expression encouraging. She took a deep breath and began to speak, her words halting at first but gradually gaining strength. Knowing she had to lie, she couldn’t just say what she was. She spoke of her of the circumstances that had brought her into Thomas’s life, however they were undeniably false, but you were such a good liar Polly herself couldn’t tell the you ‘opened up’ about the complications that had followed.

Polly listened intently, her face a mask of concern and understanding. She asked questions, probing gently but insistently, piecing together the puzzle that was this woman’s life. Thomas watched in awe, realizing just how deftly Polly could extract information without causing discomfort. As the woman’s story unfolded, Thomas saw the tension in her shoulders ease. She seemed lighter, as if a burden had been lifted simply by sharing her troubles. Polly’s acceptance and kindness worked like a balm, soothing the raw edges of her fear and uncertainty.

Thomas gives her a look, like he was saying keep that lie going because Polly’s not going to understand what you really are. That lie was about you meeting Thomas months ago and having an intimate moment a couple of times a week. When she finished speaking, Polly leaned back, her eyes thoughtful. “Well, it seems we have a lot to deal with,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “But you’re not alone anymore. We’ll sort this out, together.”

Thomas and Polly stood side by side, their gazes locked on the enigmatic woman before them. Her presence was an unsettling blend of beauty and danger, a stark reminder of the night that had forever altered their perceptions. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken thoughts, the silence punctuated only by the distant hum of Small Heath, Birmingham’s bustling streets.

Thomas and Polly exchanged a knowing glance, each reading the unvoiced questions and suspicions in the other's eyes. They both understood the gravity of the situation, the delicate balance they were now forced to maintain. Polly, ever the practical matriarch, broke the silence with a question that had been lingering in the air.

"Dear, do you have anywhere to stay?" Polly asked, her tone a blend of concern and practicality. "I'm asking since you did say you-you tend to travel."

Thomas knew the answer before the woman could respond. He remembered the fateful night when he had learned of her true nature, the night that had shattered his understanding of the world. She had confessed to him her transient existence, moving like a specter through the city, seeking shelter wherever the shadows fell. Businesses, homes, rooftops – any place that offered a brief respite from the relentless passage of time.

She hesitated, her eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. Before she could speak, Polly turned to Thomas, her expression resolute. "Thomas, she’ll stay with you in your room," Polly declared, her voice brooking no argument. "Since you got this poor girl in trouble." Thomas felt a surge of unexpected emotion at Polly's decree. He wasn't upset by the prospect of sharing his space with her. In fact, the idea filled him with a strange sense of relief and anticipation. He nodded, his gaze meeting Polly's with a silent understanding.

"Very well," he said, his voice steady despite the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind. "She can stay with me."

Polly's lips curved into a satisfied smile, her eyes softening as she looked at the woman. "There, it’s settled then," she said gently. "You’ll be safe with Thomas."

She gave a small nod, gratitude and something deeper reflected in her eyes. Thomas could see the weariness etched into her features, the burden of centuries weighing heavily on her slender shoulders. He felt a pang of sympathy, mingled with a growing protectiveness he couldn't quite explain. As the evening wore on, the tension in the room gradually dissipated. Polly busied herself with preparations, ensuring the woman would have everything she needed for a comfortable stay. Thomas watched her with a mixture of admiration and trepidation, marveling at her resilience and grace despite the extraordinary circumstances.

The night deepened, casting long shadows across the room. Thomas and the woman found themselves alone, the silence between them charged with unspoken words. He could sense her hesitation, the fear and uncertainty that lurked beneath her calm exterior.

"You’ll be safe here," he said quietly, his voice carrying a promise he intended to keep. "I’ll make sure of it."

She looked at him, her eyes searching his for any sign of deception. Finding none, she nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Thomas," she replied softly. "For everything."

Thomas felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was determined to face them head-on, for her sake as much as his own. As they prepared to retire for the night, Thomas led her to his room, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort and security. He showed her to the small bed nestled in the corner, the sheets freshly laundered and inviting.

"You can take the bed," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "I’ll sleep on the chair."

She started to protest, but he shook his head firmly. "You need the rest more than I do," he insisted. "Please, take it."

Reluctantly, she agreed, settling into the bed with a grateful sigh. Thomas watched her for a moment, his heart heavy with a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite name. He took a seat in the chair by the window, the night air cool against his skin as he kept a vigilant watch over her. As the hours passed, the quiet rhythm of her breathing gradually lulled him into a light doze. Yet, even in sleep, his senses remained attuned to her presence, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger.

The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. Thomas stirred, his eyes slowly opening to find her watching him with a thoughtful expression. He offered her a small smile, the bond between them strengthening with each passing moment. In the days that followed, Thomas and the woman settled into an uneasy routine. He made sure she had everything she needed, from food and clothing to a sense of safety that had long eluded her. She, in turn, shared fragments of her past, stories that fascinated and horrified him in equal measure.

Through it all, Polly remained a steadfast presence, her wisdom and pragmatism guiding them through the uncertainties. She took the woman under her wing, teaching her the ways of the modern world while offering a mother's comfort. Thomas found himself growing increasingly attached to the enigmatic woman, her resilience and grace captivating him in ways he hadn't anticipated. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was ready to face them, armed with the knowledge that he was no longer alone.

In the days that followed, it became increasingly difficult to keep her at bay. Her nocturnal tendencies would slip out whenever she was around others, besides for Thomas. He alone knew what she truly was. The ensuing days were fraught with close encounters, particularly with Arthur, John, Finn, and even Michael. Polly, with her uncanny intuition, seemed to sense the truth. Arthur, despite his rough exterior, had taken a liking to her. Her deftness with numbers was a skill he sorely lacked, and she provided invaluable assistance with the books. John had been wary at first, his suspicion evident in every glance. However, her charm and wit gradually won him over because Esme like taking to her so she became a confidante of sorts, a refreshing presence compared to Polly, Linda, or Ada.

Thomas often found her gazing at his neck, her eyes dark with hunger. Each time, they would discreetly excuse themselves, retreating to a private space where she could feed. These moments were a necessary evil, allowing her to maintain her facade of humanity. Her veins, a stark reminder of her true nature, would recede, leaving her as beautiful and composed as ever. One evening, after a particularly tense day, Thomas caught her once again staring at his neck. The need in her eyes was palpable, a silent plea for sustenance. He sighed, his resolve hardening.

"We really need to find an easy solution for you to feed," he said, his voice low. "I'm not saying to stop feeding from me, but it would be nice if it wasn’t up to three times a day or more…”

She nodded, understanding the strain this arrangement placed on him. Yet, the alternative was fraught with danger. Feeding from strangers was risky, and finding willing participants was a challenge. The threat of exposure loomed over them like a dark cloud. Thomas leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. There had to be a way to balance her needs with their safety. He thought of various possibilities, each more outlandish than the last. Perhaps a network of trusted individuals who could provide blood discreetly? Or a special arrangement with a local butcher? The logistics were daunting, but he was determined to find a solution.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Arthur, his usual bluster softened by a rare moment of vulnerability. He needed her help with the accounts once more. She flashed Thomas a grateful smile before following Arthur, her demeanor calm and composed. As she worked with Arthur, Thomas observed her from a distance. Her interactions with his brother were always professional, but there was a warmth in her eyes that belied her true nature. She was more than just a creature of the night; she was intelligent, resourceful, and kind.

The days passed in a blur of meetings and close calls. Each time she fed, it was a reminder of the delicate balance they maintained. Thomas’s resolve never wavered, but the strain was beginning to show. He needed to find a solution, and soon.

One night, as they lay in bed, Thomas broached the subject again. "There must be another way," he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. "I can't keep this up, and neither can you."

She sighed, her hand resting gently on his chest. "I know, Thomas. I know. But what can we do? It's not like I can walk into a hospital and ask for blood."

He chuckled at the absurdity of the idea, but the laughter quickly faded. The situation was dire, and they both knew it. They needed a plan, something sustainable and safe. In the quiet of the night, they brainstormed ideas. Some were practical, others wildly impractical. But through it all, there was a sense of determination. They would find a way, no matter how difficult it might be.

The next morning, Thomas gathered Arthur, John, Finn, and Michael for a meeting. He explained that she told him that mixing blood from dairy cows, goats, and bulls would help the horses have a one hundred percent success rate in the races they sent their horses in because it would help them fix races more discreetly, causing them to fly under the raider one hundred percent. Well however, this was a lie. He was making this lie up on the spot, just so she could feed without draining him to death. He needed a source of blood, discreet and reliable. Arthur suggested approaching a local butcher. The discussion was intense, but they all agreed on the urgency of the matter.

Over the following weeks, they put their plan into action. A discreet arrangement was made with a sympathetic butcher, who provided fresh blood on a regular basis. It wasn’t perfect, but it eased the burden on Thomas and gave her the sustenance she needed. Through it all, their bond grew stronger. Thomas marveled at her resilience and strength, while she appreciated his unwavering support. They were partners in every sense of the word, facing the challenges of their unique situation together.

Thomas Shelby found himself observing the strange and unsettling transformation of the woman who had entered his life under such extraordinary circumstances. Her sustenance came from the blood of the dairy cows, the goats, and the bulls from butchers. At first, it seemed a plausible solution to her needs. However, he soon noticed the toll it was taking on her. Despite the nourishment, she grew increasingly frail, her once radiant vitality waning with each passing day. Her temper, too, became as volatile as dynamite, her once placid demeanor now prone to sudden and explosive outbursts.

He had thought this compromise would suffice, yet it was weakening her. Why she did not voice her concerns was a mystery to him. Perhaps she felt it unnecessary to burden him further, perhaps she believed her own well-being less important than ensuring his safety and health. She drained the livestock daily, but only just enough to sustain herself, avoiding taking from him or his family. It was a delicate balance, and one that clearly left her at a disadvantage. Weeks turned into months, and Thomas observed a change. Her body seemed to adapt, much like a human might adjust to a vegetarian diet. She was still getting what she needed, though not to the extent that would fully restore her strength. This was both a relief and a source of anxiety for him. On one hand, she was no longer deteriorating; on the other, he couldn't shake the feeling that this precarious balance was temporary, a ticking time bomb that could detonate at any moment.

Derby Day approached, an event Thomas looked forward to with great anticipation. It was a day he cherished, filled with the thrill of betting and the excitement of the races. Despite his knack for predicting the outcomes, the event never lost its charm for him. In preparation for this special occasion, he had commissioned a dress for her, a stunning creation in ruby red that matched his suit perfectly. The color, he knew, would contrast beautifully with her porcelain skin. As the day of the Derby arrived, Thomas felt a rare sense of light-heartedness. They mingled among the well-dressed crowds, the buzz of conversation and the clink of champagne glasses creating a festive atmosphere. She seemed to blend seamlessly into this world of opulence and excitement, her ethereal beauty turning heads wherever they went. Yet, amidst the revelry, he couldn't shake a lingering unease, an intuitive sense that something was amiss.

During one of the many intermissions, Thomas noticed her absence. He searched the immediate vicinity, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart raced as he discreetly began to look for her, careful to maintain his composure so as not to draw attention. The thought of her losing control and causing harm filled him with dread. He knew too well the precarious nature of her existence and the fragile balance they had tried to maintain. After a frantic search, Thomas discovered her in a secluded area, her lips stained with blood. She had succumbed to her primal instincts, and a young soldier lay at her feet, his life drained from him. His throat was torn open, a gruesome testament to her desperation. The sight confirmed his worst fears: the makeshift diet of animal blood had not been enough, and now a human life had been lost.

He approached her cautiously, his heart heavy with a mix of sorrow and resolve. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a haunting combination of guilt and hunger. Thomas knew what had to be done. They could not continue like this, teetering on the edge of disaster. The delicate balance they had tried to strike was untenable, and he needed to find a better solution, both for her sake and for the safety of those around them. As he led her away from the scene, Thomas felt the weight of responsibility bearing down on him. He could not allow another incident like this to occur. The people of Small Heath, Birmingham had enough to contend with, without the threat of a rogue vampire in their midst. He needed to find a way to sustain her without endangering lives, a way to integrate her existence into his world without the constant shadow of fear and death.

He wanted to take her home, to lock her away from this brutal world, to shield her from the dangers that lurked in every shadow. Yet he knew he couldn’t. She was not human, despite her semblance of humanity, and every being deserved the right to live, to exist. This sentiment was a strange one for Thomas Shelby, a man who rarely gave a damn about anyone outside his tight-knit circle. But there was something about her that stirred an unfamiliar protectiveness within him.

Thomas knew they had to leave, and quickly. The backlot part of the Derby was too exposed, too vulnerable. Any moment now, someone could stumble upon the scene and scream bloody murder, literally. The thought of the scandal, the chaos that would ensue if they were discovered, made his blood run cold. He had to think fast, to act even faster. His eyes darted around, searching for something, anything, that could help him stage the scene. He needed to make it look like she had acted in self-defense, that the soldier had attacked her and she had no choice but to kill him. But how? How could he possibly explain the horrific wounds, the blood that stained her lips and skin?

“Right, listen,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “We need to get you cleaned up. Can’t leave any trace of this on you.”

She nodded, her eyes wide with understanding. Thomas grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, wet it with the water from a nearby puddle, and began to gently wipe the blood from her face. His touch was surprisingly tender, careful not to hurt her. She winced slightly but did not pull away, trusting him implicitly in this moment of crisis.

“We’ll say he attacked you,” Thomas muttered, more to himself than to her. “You fought back in self-defense. Need to make it look believable.”

He glanced around, trying to find something that could plausibly explain the horrific injuries. But there was nothing. No weapon, no sign of a struggle. Just the lifeless body of the soldier and the damning evidence of her nature. Time was running out, and Thomas knew he had to act quickly. With the blood mostly wiped away, he took her hand and led her out of the backlot. They moved swiftly, shadows among shadows, making their way to a safer location. His mind raced with plans, contingencies, ways to protect her from the inevitable fallout. As they walked, he kept a firm grip on her hand, guiding her through the labyrinthine parts of Derby. The night was eerily silent, the usual sounds of the city muted by the tension that hung heavy in the air. Thomas’s senses were on high alert, every sound, every shadow scrutinized for potential threats.

Finally, they reached a secluded spot, a small, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of where the Derby was held. It was a place Thomas knew well, a safe haven in times of need. He pushed open the creaky door and ushered her inside, closing it firmly behind them.

“Stay here,” he instructed, his voice a mix of authority and concern. “I need to make sure no one followed us.”

She nodded, her eyes still wide with fear and confusion. Thomas stepped back outside, scanning the area for any sign of movement. Satisfied that they were alone, he returned to her side, his mind still racing with plans. Thomas scanned the area, his sharp eyes darting around the deserted warehouse. The windows, shattered and grimy, offered little visibility, but he saw enough to be certain. No one had followed them here. The only footprints in the thick dust were theirs. Satisfied but still on edge, Thomas turned back to her.

When he laid eyes on her again, a sense of disbelief washed over him. She looked far worse than when they had first met. Back then, she had been a vision of cold, detached beauty, her emotions carefully concealed. Now, she was the very picture of despair. The veins near her eyes were stark and prominent, her pallor deathly. It was as if the life had been drained from her, leaving behind a fragile shell on the brink of collapse. Thomas felt a rare surge of helplessness, a feeling foreign to him. Normally, he prided himself on his composure, his ability to control any situation. But this time, it was different. This time, it was personal. He had done everything in his power to help her, given her everything she needed to survive, yet it never seemed to be enough. His frustration boiled over, an emotion he struggled to suppress.

“What am I doing wrong?” he muttered to himself, though the words came out louder than intended.

He stepped closer, his face a mask of frustration and confusion. She stood there, trembling and broken, and for the first time, Thomas felt truly powerless. He had faced death countless times, both as a soldier and as a gang leader, but this was different. He cared for her, in a way he hadn’t cared for anyone in a long time. And it was tearing him apart to see her like this. Thomas clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension. He had seen men break under pressure, had watched the life drain from their eyes as they took their last breath. But this… this was something else entirely. This was a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL AM I DOING WRONG?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the cavernous space.

The outburst startled her, her eyes widening in fear and pain. He had never raised his voice at her before, had always been the one to offer comfort and support. But now, his own emotions had taken control, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of rage and despair. “I never wanted to be like this,” she spat, her voice raw and broken.

The words cut through him like a knife. He had always known that she struggled with her nature, but hearing it spoken aloud made it all the more real. She was a creature of the night, cursed to live in the shadows, and there was nothing he could do to change that. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, leaving him reeling.

“I’ve done everything I can,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with a desperation he couldn’t hide. “I’ve tried to help you, to give you what you need. But it’s never enough.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand. This… this hunger… it’s not something you can fix with kind words and good intentions. It’s a curse, and it’s tearing me apart.”

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Then tell me what to do,” he pleaded. “Tell me how to help you.”

Her eyes met his, a flicker of hope mingling with the pain. “You can’t,” she whispered. “No one can.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words sinking in. Thomas felt a knot of anger and helplessness tighten in his chest. He had always prided himself on being a man of action, someone who could solve any problem. But this… this was beyond him. The vast emptiness of the abandoned warehouse echoed with the weight of their silence. Each footfall of Thomas was deliberate, careful not to disrupt the stillness that cloaked them. The moonlight filtered through broken windows, casting ghostly shadows that danced on the cold, concrete floor. He advanced with a quiet determination, inching closer to her until he could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his.

With a tenderness that belied his hardened exterior, Thomas cupped her face, his roughened hands gentle against her porcelain skin. He gazed into her eyes, eyes that had become a familiar haven amidst the chaos of his life. His breath was heavy, laden with the weight of unspoken vows and desperate resolve. He refused to give up. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be a way to save her, to keep her by his side. Thomas was not a man known for sentimentality. He had long since buried his heart beneath layers of steel and resolve. Yet, for this woman, he would do anything. His voice trembled as he spoke, each word a struggle against the dam of emotion threatening to break.

“I-I please... j-just tell me what I need to d-do for you. I’ll do I-it... I’ll take the lives o-of men for you... name it and I-it’s yours.”

His thumb brushed over her cheek, a touch so intimate it almost broke him. His voice, usually so commanding and unyielding, now teetered on the brink of tears—a vulnerability he would never show to another soul. But her, he was different with her, he could be raw and unguarded. Drawing her closer, Thomas slid his hand to the back of her head, fingers entwining in her hair. The kiss he bestowed upon her was fervent, filled with a passion that transcended words. Their lips met in a desperate dance, a clash of longing and hope that seemed to stretch into eternity. For a moment, the world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them lost in each other.

When they finally parted, Thomas’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving with the intensity of their shared moment. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering on the softness of her skin. In the dim light, he noticed the subtle shift in her features. The feral intensity of her vampiric nature seemed to recede, giving way to a semblance of tranquility. He couldn’t help but wonder at the change. She hadn’t fed, yet something about their connection was calming the beast within her. His mind raced, trying to piece together the mystery. Was it possible that his love, his unwavering commitment, could sustain her in ways he had never imagined?

Thomas stepped back slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. “You... you’re different,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. “What’s happening to you?”

She looked at him, a mixture of sadness and affection in her gaze. “Love..” she whispered. “It does something to me, Thomas. It soothes the hunger, if only for a while.”

His heart clenched at her words. How could his feelings, so fierce and consuming, have such an impact on her? It was a revelation that filled him with both hope and dread. If love could sustain her, even temporarily, then perhaps there was a way to save her from her eternal curse.

Thomas took her hand, their fingers interlocking in a silent vow. The warehouse around them faded into insignificance, the shadows retreating before the light of their shared determination. They would face whatever came next side by side, bound by a love that defied time and circumstance. He led her to a small, makeshift bed in a corner of the warehouse. It was far from luxurious, but it offered a semblance of comfort in an otherwise desolate place. Thomas sat down, pulling her gently to sit beside him. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, each lost in their own thoughts.

After a long moment, Thomas broke the silence. “You never told me how it happened,” he said quietly, his eyes searching hers for answers. “How you became... this.”

She sighed, the weight of centuries evident in her gaze. “It was long ago, in a time and place far removed from here. I was young, naive. I didn’t know the danger until it was too late.”

Thomas listened intently, his heart aching for the pain she had endured. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “For all you’ve been through.”

She reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s in the past, Thomas. What matters now is the present, and the future we can create together.”

He nodded, his resolve hardening. Whatever it took, he would find a way to protect her, to give them the chance at a life free from fear and darkness. “We’ll find a way,” he repeated, more to convince himself than her. “I promise.”

The hours passed in quiet contemplation, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Thomas knew the road ahead would be perilous, filled with challenges and sacrifices. But for her, he would face it all. As dawn approached, they lay down together, their hands still entwined. Thomas closed his eyes, allowing himself a rare moment of peace. He knew the battle was far from over, but with her by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope. In the soft light of the coming day, they found solace in each other’s embrace. The world outside was harsh and unforgiving, but within the walls of the abandoned warehouse, they had found a sanctuary. And as they drifted into a restless sleep, Thomas held onto the promise of their shared future, determined to defy the odds and protect the woman he loved from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

Thomas stirred awake to the unforgiving glare of the morning sun, its rays slicing through the fractured glass of the abandoned warehouse’s lone window. Somehow, amidst the vast expanse of shadowy corners, they had managed to rest in the one spot where the sunlight could find them. The beams burned into their closed eyelids, dragging them from the depths of sleep in a groggy haze. She stirred beside him, her eyes opening to meet his. They both looked as though they had been through hell and back, their clothes rumpled and faces drawn from the trials of the previous day. Thomas, ever the stoic leader, offered her a small, weary smile. He reached out, cupping her face with a rough, yet gentle hand, and placed a quick kiss on her lips. It was a brief moment of solace in the midst of chaos, a silent promise of solidarity.

The events of yesterday were undoubtedly splashed across headlines not just in Small Heath, Birmingham, but throughout the UK, and possibly even the US. They had been at the center of a storm, a whirlwind of violence and mystery that left them both bruised and weary. Thomas knew it would be prudent to lay low, to weave a tale of getting lost in the crowd, a story that would keep them out of the immediate line of fire. Upon returning home, the need for a hot shower and clean clothes was palpable. The grime of the warehouse clung to their skin, a tangible reminder of their ordeal. Yet, as Thomas unlocked the door and stepped inside, he was met with an unexpected sight. The entire family, along with his business partners from the betting shop, were gathered in the living room, their faces etched with concern and curiosity.

Polly was the first to break the silence, her eyes flashing with anger and worry. “You think it’s all fun and games to leave half of your family at the Derby and not let anyone know where you were? So, Thomas, where the fuck were you?”

Thomas felt the weight of her words, the disappointment and frustration that lay beneath them. He scrambled to piece together a plausible lie, something that would placate the rest of the family. He spun a tale of getting lost in the chaos of the crowd, a story woven with just enough truth to make it believable. Polly, however, could see right through him. Her eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue, sensing that there was more to the story than he was willing to share. He appreciated that about her. Polly had an uncanny ability to sense when a topic was better left untouched. It was one of her greatest strengths, her intuition a sharp blade that cut through the layers of deception and half-truths.

John spoke up next, his voice tinged with the thrill of the macabre. “Some soldier got his fuckin’ throat ripped out. The townsfolk have gone mad, saying it’s a creature of the night, like a vampire or a witch. They’re losing their bloody minds.”

Thomas exchanged a glance with his woman, the memory of the previous night’s events still fresh and raw. They had witnessed something extraordinary, something that defied explanation. The whispers of a vampire wasn’t far-fetched at all, considering he was standing right next to one, one that he was undoubtably infatuated with.

Arthur leaned forward, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “So, is it true then, Tommy? Was it some beast of the night, or just a madman with a taste for blood?”

Micheal chimed in, “They said there wasn’t a drop of blood left in that soldier’s body.” Those words echoing through the living room.

Thomas took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “It was… complicated. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human….. from what we heard.”

His words did little to quell the unease that rippled through the room. Polly’s eyes bore into him, seeking answers he wasn’t ready to give. He could feel the weight of her scrutiny, the silent questions that hung in the air.

Ada broke the tension, her voice soft but firm. “Whatever happened, it’s over now. We need to focus on keeping the family safe. We can’t afford to let this get out of hand.”

Finn spoke right after Ada, “They know that the Shelby family was there… they might think we played a sick joke.. which we are known of doing.”

Thomas nodded, grateful for his and her support. “She’s right. We need to lay low for a while, let things calm down. The last thing we need is more attention.”

The family slowly began to disperse, the tension easing but not completely dissipating. Thomas could feel Polly’s eyes on him as he made his way upstairs, his woman close behind. She didn’t say anything, but he knew the questions would come eventually.

Once they were alone in the privacy of their room, She let out a weary sigh. She turned to Thomas, her eyes softening. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “We’re in this together, _______. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He reached out, taking her hand in his. The simple touch was a balm to his frayed nerves, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. They had faced the darkness together and come out the other side. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together. The events of the previous day might have left their mark, but they were survivors. They would find a way to navigate the storm, to protect their family and each other. As they finally parted, preparing to face the day, Thomas felt a renewed sense of determination. They had weathered the storm and come out stronger for it. Whatever the future held, he was ready to face it, one step at a time.

The house slowly came to life around them, the sounds of family and business filtering through the walls. Thomas glanced at his companion, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

The following days were arduous, particularly for her. The necessity to keep a low profile, combined with her unique dietary needs, posed a significant challenge. Yet, Thomas, ever resourceful and protective, had devised a plan. Instead of making her to feed from the livestock—cows, goats, and bulls—he decided it would be safer for her to feed directly from him like she did before. The scrutiny from the police was intense, and the sudden drop in livestock could raise suspicions. The Shelby family, already under the watchful eyes of the authorities in Small Heath, Birmingham, couldn't afford any additional attention, especially for something as unusual as “feeding blood to their horses.”

Thomas had made the decision with calculated pragmatism. He knew that any odd behavior could tip off the police and endanger not only the family but also the precarious peace they had managed to establish. He understood the risks and was willing to bear them, if only to ensure her safety and well-being.

In the dim light of his bedroom, Thomas sat on his bed, his posture relaxed yet attentive. She was in his lap, her body fitting perfectly against his. Her need had grown dire after weeks of abstinence from his blood, and he could see the hunger in her eyes, a hunger that only he could satiate. This feeding was different from the quick, perfunctory ones of the past. It was intimate, lingering, a connection that went beyond mere necessity. She leaned into him, her breath warm against his neck. He felt the sharp, familiar sting as her fangs pierced his skin. The initial pain quickly gave way to a strange, almost pleasurable sensation as she began to feed. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her grip firm yet gentle. He could feel the tension in her body slowly ease as she drank, her hunger sated by his blood.

Thomas’s hands moved to her waist, holding her steady as she fed. He could feel her heartbeat through their close proximity, a rapid rhythm that gradually slowed as she took what she needed. The room was silent except for their mingled breaths, Thomas’s low groans that almost sounded like moans and the faint, almost imperceptible sound of her feeding.

After a while, Thomas broke the silence, his voice low and husky. “You know, it’s becoming very intoxicating seeing you straddling me every time you need to feed,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his. There was a glint of mischief in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the intimacy they shared in these moments. She licked the remaining blood from her lips, a gesture that was both alluring and predatory.

“Is that so, Thomas Shelby?” she replied, her voice soft and teasing. “I must admit, I find it rather... pleasurable myself.”

Thomas chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through his chest. “Aye, it’s quite a unique arrangement we have,” he said, his hands gently stroking her back. “But necessary, given the circumstances. We can’t have the livestock dropping dead and raising suspicions.”

She nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. “I know,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your sacrifice, Thomas. More than you know.”

He shrugged, downplaying his own discomfort. “It’s a small price to pay for your safety,” he said. “We’ve got enough enemies as it is. We don’t need the police sniffing around for any reason.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. The weight of their shared burdens hung heavily in the air, but in these moments, there was also a sense of solace. Thomas held her close, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back. He could feel the exhaustion in her body, the toll that her hunger had taken. He wished he could do more for her, but for now, this would have to suffice.

“Rest, love,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “You need your strength.”

She nodded again, her eyes drifting closed as the weariness overtook her. In his arms, she felt safe, protected from the outside world and its dangers. Thomas watched her, his heart swelling with a mixture of affection and resolve. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe, no matter the cost. As she drifted off to sleep, Thomas continued to hold her, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. The world outside was fraught with peril, but within these walls, they had carved out a sanctuary. For now, that was enough. The room grew quiet, the only sound the soft, even breaths of the woman in his arms. Thomas Shelby, the unflinching leader of the Peaky Blinders, allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. He kissed the top of her head, a silent promise of protection and devotion.

Thomas Shelby sat at his desk in his office of his betting business, his sharp eyes scanning the array of papers strewn before him. The weight of his responsibilities bore down on him, a relentless pressure that never seemed to abate. Yet, as he glanced up, he noticed you staring intently at his neck, her gaze unwavering and intense. He returned his focus to his work, but the look in her eyes lingered in his mind, a silent plea that gnawed at his thoughts.

With a sigh, he pushed his papers aside, acknowledging that he, too, needed a reprieve from the ceaseless demands of his life. Rising from his chair, he crossed the room with purposeful strides, his footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit office. He reached her, and for a moment, simply stood there, observing the telltale signs of her thirst. Her veins, prominent and pulsing, betrayed the inner struggle she fought to contain.

Thomas’s eyes softened, a rare tenderness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor. He bent down, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. The gesture was both commanding and gentle, an unspoken assurance that he understood her need. Settling into the chair you had occupied, he positioned her carefully on his lap, his hands steady and sure. Thomas’s eyes softened, a rare tenderness breaking through his typically stoic demeanor. He bent down, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. The gesture was both commanding and gentle, an unspoken assurance that he understood your need. Settling into the chair she had occupied, he positioned her carefully on his lap, his hands steady and sure.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch delicate against her cool skin. The intimacy of the moment was profound, a silent communion that spoke of trust and acceptance. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, a gesture imbued with a depth of feeling that words could scarcely capture. Thomas then undid the collar of his dress shirt, the fabric rustling softly as he loosened his tie. The vulnerability of the act was not lost on him, nor on her. He looked into her eyes, giving her the silent permission she sought. The look he gave was one of calm resolve, an invitation to proceed despite the lingering fear that shadowed his gaze.

She watched as his expression shifted, the determination in his eyes mingling with a flicker of unease. Her own transformation began, her teeth elongating, becoming the sharp fangs that had first marked your encounter with him. His breath hitched slightly, a sound almost imperceptible but laden with the weight of his recollections of that night. As her fangs sank into his neck, Thomas gasped, the sound a mixture of pain and acceptance. The initial sting of her bite was a sharp contrast to the soothing rhythm of her feeding. His pulse quickened under her touch, a steady beat that thrummed in harmony with the primal act the both of you were engaged in.

The sensation of her lips against his skin, the warmth of her breath, created an intimate connection that transcended the boundaries of the physical world. Thomas closed his eyes, his mind drifting back to the night you had first met, when her transformation had both terrified and fascinated him. The memory was vivid, a tapestry of emotions woven into the fabric of his being. With each draw of blood, he felt a mixture of pleasure and pain, a duality that mirrored the complexity of his own existence. The office, with its austere furnishings and muted light, faded into the background. The only reality that mattered was the bond between her forged in blood and sustained by an unspoken understanding.

His hands, resting gently on her back, felt the tension in her body slowly ebb away. The act of feeding, while primal, held a strange, almost sacred quality. It was a ritual of trust and necessity, a lifeline that connected the both of you in ways that defied simple explanation. Thomas’s mind wandered to the consequences of this bond, the way it had changed him, altered his perceptions. He had always prided himself on his control, his ability to command and conquer. Yet with her he had discovered a vulnerability that was both humbling and enlightening. The minutes stretched on, each one an eternity of sensation and emotion. When she finally withdrew, the loss of contact was almost jarring. Thomas opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of relief and lingering awe. The wound on his neck throbbed, a stark reminder of the bond you both shared.

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting a multitude of emotions: gratitude, concern, and a trace of guilt. Thomas offered a small, reassuring smile, his hand moving to caress her cheek. The blood that had sustained her now coursed through his veins, a testament to the unspoken agreement between the both of them.

Thomas Shelby the indomitable leader of the Peaky Blinders, found himself enraptured by the sight of her after she had fed from him. It was a twisted form of devotion, one that painted her in a light of almost divine perfection. Her eyes glowed with satisfaction, her lips slightly parted as if she could still taste him. In those moments, she seemed the epitome of ethereal beauty and raw power, and he was spellbound by her. He had never imagined that such an intimate act, fraught with pain and vulnerability, could stir such deep and conflicting desires within him. As he watched her, a possessive thought took root in his mind. He imagined her, heavy with his child, a living testament to their union. The idea of her carrying his offspring, of her body nurturing a life they had created together, stirred something primal within him. He could see her, round with pregnancy, a visible symbol of his mark upon her, his own mark like she left upon him.

Though he never voiced these thoughts aloud, he sensed that she knew. There was a certain look in her eyes, an awareness that mirrored his own. She could feel his arousal, the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain that her feeding elicited in him. It was a strange, almost masochistic delight, one that he both craved and loathed. The bite hurt, but the pain was a reminder of her presence, of her need for him, and that made it bearable, even desirable. The act of her feeding had become an intimate ritual between them. Her bite was both an offering and a demand, and he met it with a complex blend of dread and longing. The physical pain was sharp, but the emotional and sensual connection it forged between them was unparalleled. It was an experience unlike any other, one that left him feeling more alive and more entwined with her than he had ever felt with anyone else.

With time, he grew bolder in expressing his desires. He began to hint at his fantasies, the dark and passionate thoughts that consumed him. There was a thrill in speaking these desires aloud, in watching her reaction. He wanted to bind her to him even more deeply than she already was, to make her the mother of his child, to see her walking the streets of Small Heath with his baby growing inside her.

One evening, after she had fed and he lay beside her, the words slipped from his lips, unbidden but fervent. "Bet you'd look good carryin' my baby," he murmured, his voice husky with lingering arousal. "Everyone would know I fucked you senseless to get it there."

She turned to him, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. Her eyes held a glint of amusement, but also a depth of understanding. She said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes. It was a challenge, an acknowledgment, and perhaps even a promise. Thomas found himself drawn deeper into this web of passion and pain. Each feeding session left him more entranced, more addicted to the peculiar mix of sensations. He would watch her as she fed, feeling the sharp sting of her fangs, the pull of her lips, and the intimate connection that flowed between them. It was a ritual that left him both weakened and empowered, a paradox he was beginning to cherish.

In the quiet aftermath of their encounters, he would trace the mark she left on him, feeling a strange sense of pride. The bite was a symbol of their bond, a testament to the unique and profound connection they shared. He never tried to hide it, even though she had advised him to keep it from the public eye. He wore it as a badge of honor, showing it off like it’s just a normal bite of a human; a silent declaration of their intertwined fates. She, in turn, seemed to grow more attached to him, her eyes softening whenever she looked at him. There was a tenderness in her touch, a possessiveness that mirrored his own. They were bound together by something deeper than blood, something that transcended the physical act of feeding. It was a love that defied explanation, a bond forged in the crucible of pain and pleasure.

This fateful evening was steeped in a thick fog, the kind that clung to the cobblestones and seeped through the cracks of old buildings in Birmingham. It was the kind of night where the ordinary collided with the extraordinary, and in the dim light of the office at Shelby Brothers Limited, something extraordinary was about to unfold. Thomas Shelby, ever the meticulous businessman, sat at his desk, the weight of the day's burdens resting heavily on his shoulders. The woman with him, a creature of the night, had become an integral part of his world—a world already teetering on the edge of the ordinary and the surreal. As the clock ticked closer to the appointed hour, Thomas glanced at her, noting the subtle shift in her demeanor. It was almost time. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his silver pocket watch, the soft click of the clasp echoing in the quiet room. Yes, it was that time.

Setting aside his papers, he gave a subtle, familiar signal. A gentle pat on his lap, a silent command that she had come to understand. He watched her closely, his keen eyes missing nothing. Tonight, however, there was something different about her. The way she moved, the intensity in her gaze—it all spoke of a deeper hunger, something beyond the mere sustenance of blood. Her steps were deliberate, almost predatory, as she crossed the room. The flickering light from the gas lamps cast shadows on her face, highlighting the ancient secrets hidden behind her youthful appearance. Thomas could feel the anticipation building within him, a strange mix of fear and desire that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Come ‘ere, sit on my lap,” he said, his voice a low, rough murmur. “Be a good girl.”

She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent his heart racing. There was a power in her, a magnetism that was impossible to resist. As she settled onto his lap, her presence was both a comfort and a challenge, a reminder of the dangerous game they were playing. Her fingers traced a path along his collar, the touch both tender and possessive. He could feel the coolness of her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his own. There was an intimacy in the moment, a shared understanding that went beyond words.

“You know what I need,” she whispered, her breath cool against his ear. “But tonight, it’s not just your blood I crave.”

Thomas’s heart pounded in his chest. He had known this moment would come, had sensed the shift in her desires. The tension between them was palpable, a living thing that crackled in the air. He tilted his head, exposing the vulnerable skin of his neck, a silent offering that spoke of trust and surrender.

“I know,” he replied, his voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline. “Take what you need.”

Her lips brushed against his neck, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He could feel the sharpness of her fangs, the promise of pain and pleasure intertwined. She hesitated, just for a moment, her eyes meeting his with a question unspoken. Thomas already had a hard on, he was thick.. The bite was sharp, a sudden pain that quickly morphed into a strange, intoxicating pleasure. Thomas closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation, his hand tightening on her waist. He could feel the pull of her, the connection that went beyond the physical.

Thomas sat back in his chair, the dim light casting long shadows across his office. The whiskey in his glass barely touched his lips as he tried to focus on the paperwork before him. But tonight, his thoughts were not on business or the Shelby empire. No, they were wholly consumed by the enigmatic woman sitting on his lap before him. Her presence was intoxicating, a heady mix of danger and allure that left him in a state of constant anticipation. She moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, every step a silent promise of the pleasures and perils to come. As she approached, he felt a familiar stirring, a need that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

Thomas groaned softly, his trousers betraying his arousal. The fabric strained against the growing pressure, a testament to the desire that throbbed beneath. She could feel his cock, a throbbing force that radiated from him like heat from a furnace. With a wicked smile, while she straddled him, her body pressing against his with deliberate intent. The sensation was electric, every touch sending shivers down his spine. He needed her, craved her with an intensity that bordered on desperation. It was a life-or-death situation, a primal urge that demanded satisfaction.

Her voice, when it came, was a low, commanding purr. "Ah, you're such a dirty boy, Thomas."

His breath hitched at her words, his mind a whirlwind of lust and submission. "Ye-yeah, I fucking am," he managed to reply, his voice rough with need. "It's hard not to be when I keep imagining fucking your cunt while you feed from me."

Her laughter was a dark, seductive sound, a melody that danced around the edges of his sanity. She leaned closer, her breath hot against his ear, whispering words that sent a jolt of pure desire through his body. "Then fuck me in my cunt while I feed from you."

The command was a spark to the tinder of his need, igniting a fire that consumed him utterly. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes burned with a predatory hunger, a mirror of his own desperate desire. The pain of her grip only heightened his arousal, each tug a reminder of her dominance.

Thomas’s hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer with a rough urgency. The sensation of her body against his, the heat of her skin, was almost too much to bear. He groaned again, the sound raw and primal, as she ground against him, stoking the flames of his need. The room seemed to close in around them, the outside world fading to a distant memory. There was only her, only this moment of intense, almost unbearable desire. His fingers dug into her flesh, desperate to feel every inch of her, to claim her as his own.

She moved with a sinuous grace, her body a tantalizing dance of flesh and heat. Every movement was designed to drive him closer to the edge, to push him past the point of no return. Her dominance was absolute, her control over him total and complete. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle against the overwhelming need that coursed through him. She was a siren, a seductress whose every touch was a promise of pleasure and pain. He was lost to her, a willing captive to her dark desires.

Her voice, when it came again, was a low, sultry whisper. "Do you want me, Thomas?"

"Yes," he breathed, his voice a mere shadow of its usual confidence. "God, yes."

"Then take me," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Take me and make me yours."

He needed no further encouragement. With a growl of pure desire, he carefully pushed her off of him and shoved her against his mahogany desk while still facing him. He chuckled and leaned to whisper in her ear.

"You’re gonna wake the whole town, cus’ you’ll be screamin’ my name eh’?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

With a firm yet gentle grasp, Thomas reached out and took hold of her hips, his touch possessive yet tender. He couldn't help but marvel at the perfection of her curves, the way her body seemed to fit so seamlessly against his own. Her hips, in particular, drew his gaze, their graceful curve hinting at a strength and resilience that spoke of generations past. As he rolled up her dress to her waist, his eyes caught sight of the delicate lace of her underwear, a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld her, the sight of her already damp arousal stirring something primal within him.

"You already want me so much, don’t yeah," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that betrayed his own desire. He couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the sight of her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, evidence of the effect he had on her.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Thomas slid her black lace panties down, watching as they fell to her ankles in a pool of fabric. The sight of her dripping wet cunt, glistening with moisture, only served to fuel his own arousal. He smiled, his fingers tracing the curve of her inner thigh as he teased her with the promise of pleasure yet to come. With a confident ease, Thomas pressed a single finger against her slick folds, relishing the sensation of her warmth and wetness enveloping him. He savored the way she trembled beneath his touch, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he teased her with slow, deliberate strokes.

His gaze never wavered from hers as he slowly inserted his finger into her cunt, feeling her slick walls clench around him in response. The sight of her pleasure, writ plain on her face, was a heady intoxication that fueled his own desire. With a deliberate motion, he inserted another finger into her dripping wet center, eliciting a low moan that broke the silence like a symphony of desire. Her pleas for more only fueled his own desire, a primal instinct that he found intoxicating.

"You love feeling my fingers in your cunt, don't you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "You're such a slut, but you're mine."

His movements were steady and deliberate as he increased his speed, each stroke driving her closer to the edge of ecstasy. He reveled in the sight of her squirming beneath him, her body a testament to the power he held over her. And yet, his cock remained untouched, a promise of pleasures yet to come. With a deft touch, his thumb traced circles around her clit, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her body. He varied the pressure and tempo, keeping her on the edge of anticipation with each unpredictable movement. The sounds of her wetness filled the room, a symphony of lust that echoed in his ears like a siren's song.

She spoke in hushed tones, her words punctuated by moans of pleasure. "I'm gonna come, Thomas," she gasped, her voice trembling with desire

Thomas felt a surge of satisfaction at her admission, knowing that he had brought her to the brink of ecstasy with his touch alone. He continued his ministrations, each stroke driving her closer to the edge of release. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension that electrified the room.

As her moans grew louder, Thomas felt a surge of desire course through him. He was determined to push her over the edge, to make her succumb to the pleasure that only he could provide. With a final, decisive stroke, he felt her body tense beneath him, her climax washing over her in waves of ecstasy. She cried out his name as she reached her peak, her body writhing with pleasure. Thomas watched her with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he had brought her to the heights of pleasure with his skilled touch.

Thomas’s lips curled into a soft smile as he withdrew his fingers from her dripping core, his gaze locked onto hers with a hunger that burned deep within. With a deliberate slowness, he brought his fingers to his mouth, savoring the taste of her essence as he licked them clean. His eyes never left hers, a silent promise of the pleasures yet to come. "I need a better taste of that cunt of yours," he murmured in a low voice, his words laced with desire and anticipation. With a deft movement, he lifted her slightly and seated her on his desk, his actions confident and deliberate. He loosened his collared dress shirt and tie, his focus solely on the task at hand.

Bending down on his knees before her, Thomas wasted no time in delving into his feast. His tongue traced slow, languid circles along her slick folds, relishing in the heady taste of her arousal. His free hand found its way around her waist, holding her steady against the polished wood of the desk. With each flick of his tongue, he teased her clit, coaxing sweet moans from her lips. As he explored every inch of her with a fervent hunger, Thomas's fingers joined the fray, slipping effortlessly into her welcoming warmth. He moved with a precision born of experience, his movements fluid and confident. His fingers danced over her sensitive flesh, setting her alight with pleasure as he expertly sought out every hidden pleasure point.

The room was filled with the heady scent of desire, the air thick with the sounds of their shared passion. Thomas's tongue worked tirelessly, driving her to the brink of ecstasy with each delicious stroke. Her body writhed beneath his touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surrendered to the pleasure he offered. With each passing moment, Thomas's resolve only grew stronger, his determination to bring her to the heights of pleasure once more. He teased and tantalized, his ministrations driving her ever closer to the edge. And when she finally reached the pinnacle of her desire, he was there to catch her, his fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony to send her spiraling into oblivion.

As she melted in his hands, her body trembling with the force of her release, Thomas's lips curved into a satisfied smile. He had fulfilled his promise, his skill and expertise leaving her trembling with pleasure in the aftermath of their shared passion. And as she lay there, spent and sated, he knew that their encounter was far from over.

Thomas allowed a rare, wolfish smile to spread across his face as he withdrew his fingers from her dripping and aching core. He stood up, his movements deliberate, and undid his pants, the belt coming off with a swift, practiced motion. With a sense of controlled urgency, he let them fall to his ankles, much like he had done with her delicate undergarments. The thin fabric of his boxer briefs did little to conceal the formidable arousal straining beneath.

In a voice that blended both care and authority, he murmured, "I'll be gentle at first, but once I'm in, there's no telling what I might do. Feed from me if you must, while I take you."

With a deft motion, he unleashed his formidable erection, standing fully erect and imposing. He had to be at least eight inches in length, with a girth that promised to stretch and fill her completely. He smiled, a dark promise in his eyes, and pulled her to him, positioning her so she straddled him while he remained seated on the desk. Leaning over her, he was intent on witnessing every nuance of her expression as he slowly began to enter her. Thomas was meticulous, savoring each inch as he pushed into her tight, wet heat. Her breath hitched, and she groaned with every inch he claimed. Two inches turned to four, and four soon became eight. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body arched towards him, completely at his mercy.

"Bloody hell," he rasped, his voice rough with desire, "You're so tight, gripping my cock just right, love."

Her response was immediate and visceral; she sank her fangs into his neck, and a shudder of pleasure and pain coursed through him. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a heady mix of agony and ecstasy. It had to be her, he realized. No other woman could make him feel this way. For the rest of his life, it would be her and only her.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. They were connected on a different plane of existence, their pain and pleasure intertwined. Thomas continued to move within her, each thrust deliberate and powerful, driving her closer to the edge. His breathing grew labored, matching the rapid, messy rhythm of hers. As he approached his climax, he quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He was relentless, driven by an almost primal need to possess her fully. The intensity of their union reached a fever pitch, and with a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into her. The warmth of his release flowed through her, a tangible symbol of their connection.

"Magnificent," he breathed, his voice hoarse with exertion. The sensation of filling her, of marking her as his own, was beyond anything he had ever known. He held her close, their bodies still entwined, his seed seeping into her, a promise of potential new life.

They remained like that for a moment, suspended in time, their breaths mingling. He could feel the bite of her fangs still in his neck, a reminder of their bond. It was a strange, beautiful pain, one he would not trade for anything. He kissed her deeply, a silent vow that this was only the beginning.

The room around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, locked in an embrace that was as tender as it was fierce. Their connection was undeniable, a force of nature that neither could resist. Thomas knew that this was his fate, to be bound to this extraordinary woman for the rest of his days. He whispered her name, a reverent prayer on his lips, and she responded with a soft, contented sigh. They were bound together, not just by the physical act of their union, but by something deeper, something ancient and unbreakable.

As they slowly disentangled, he felt a profound sense of completion. He had found his match, his equal in every way. She was his, and he was hers. The world outside might be filled with danger and uncertainty, but here, in this moment, they had found a sanctuary. Thomas helped her to her feet, his hands gentle on her waist. He could see the marks of their passion on her skin, and it filled him with a fierce pride. She was his, marked and claimed, just as he was hers.

As Thomas and his woman descended the creaking wooden stairs of the house, their footsteps echoing in the early morning silence. The family had gathered in the parlor below, their conversation halting abruptly as the pair came into view. Polly, Michael, John, Arthur, Finn, and a few of Thomas’s business partners turned their attention toward them, expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement.

Polly’s sharp eyes assessed them, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Thomas,” she began in a deceptively calm tone, “I forgot something important at the business last night. I took Michael along to fetch it with me. Was surprised that I heard you two fucking? Not at all.”

The room erupted into chaos. John, Arthur, and Finn, along with a couple of Thomas’s business partners, either spat out their tea or coffee in shock and amusement. Michael, his face a mix of embarrassment and resignation, added his own remark.

Michael then said; “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get those sounds out of my head,” he said, his voice tinged with a blend of horror and humor

This only served to heighten the hilarity. Those who had just spat out their beverages now let out hearty, unrestrained laughter, their mirth filling the room. It was an out-of-pocket comment, utterly unexpected, yet undeniably amusing in its blunt honesty.

John, ever the joker, seized the moment. “What we all want to know, Tommy,” he said, his grin wide, “is if she’s a permanent partner of yours. We’re not exactly expecting a wedding, but we just want to know if you’re serious about her.”

Thomas stood at the foot of the stairs, his expression a blend of irritation and amusement. He was a man of few words, his actions often speaking louder than his speech. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, taking in the familiar faces of his family and closest associates. The woman beside him, graceful and composed despite the scrutiny, glanced up at him with a mixture of curiosity and support. She understood the gravity of the moment, the significance of his answer not just to his family, but to her as well.

Thomas took a deep breath, his jaw tightening. “Yes, John,” he said finally, his voice steady and resolute. “She’s with me. Permanently.”

A murmur of approval and understanding rippled through the room. Polly’s expression softened, a rare hint of genuine approval in her eyes. Michael looked relieved, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Arthur and Finn exchanged glances, nodding slightly in silent agreement.

John, never one to let a moment pass without a jest, raised his cup in a mock toast. “To the new addition, then,” he declared, his tone half-serious, half-teasing. “May she bring Tommy some much-needed happiness.”

Thomas allowed a rare smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “Thank you, John,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of genuine appreciation. “That’s enough now. We’ve got business to attend to.”

The conversation gradually shifted back to the matters at hand. Discussions of shipments, alliances, and the ever-present threats that loomed over their operations filled the air. Thomas, ever the leader, guided the conversation with his usual efficiency, his mind a constant whirl of strategies and contingencies. Throughout it all, the woman remained by his side, her presence a silent testament to their newfound bond. She listened intently, absorbing the dynamics of the Shelby family, the intricacies of their world. Her gaze occasionally met Thomas’s, a silent communication passing between them, a promise of shared strength and mutual respect.

As the meeting drew to a close, Polly approached Thomas’s woman, her demeanor softer than usual. “Welcome to the family,” she said, her tone sincere. “It’s not an easy life, but you seem strong enough to handle it.”

The woman nodded, her eyes meeting Polly’s with determination. “I’ve faced worse,” she replied, her voice calm and steady.

Thomas watched the exchange, a sense of pride swelling within him. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. With her by his side, he believed they could face anything. As the family began to disperse, Thomas turned to her, his expression softening. “You handled that well,” he said quietly.

She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “I’ve dealt with worse interrogations,” she replied, her tone light.

He chuckled, a rare sound that seemed to lighten the weight of the room. “I believe you,” he said, his hand finding hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get on with the day, then. There’s always more work to be done.”

They moved together, a united front in the face of whatever the world might throw at them. The bond they shared was still new, still fragile, but it was real. And in the tumultuous world of the Peaky Blinders, that was more than enough. As they stepped out into the streets of Small Heath, Birmingham, the early morning sun casting long shadows on the cobblestones, Thomas felt a renewed sense of purpose. With her by his side, he was ready to face the challenges ahead. The future was uncertain, but together, they would carve their own path, one step at a time.

Author’s Notes:

Yooooo this is like the longest thing I’ve written so far and guys I freaking love the way I wrote it..like it’s perfect in my eyes!! I hope y’all loved it as much as I did!! I can’t believe I wrote smut while eating Froot Loops..anyways!!!P.S I HAVE A TENDENCY TO REPEAT THE SAME THING LIKE FORMAT!! YOU CAN DEFINITELY SEE IT IN THIS STORY IF YOU LOOK FOR IT!!!

The reason why counts is necrophilia is because technically the reader is dead, when they did die when they turned into a vampire kind of like the interview with the vampire type shit. So technically this does count as necrophilia. Thomas is a fucking freak.

Also apologies if the settings are a bit wacky lolz also i’m a say his desk was made out of mahogany wood because I can’t find anywhere else where it was made out of a certain type of wood so leave me alone. I don’t even know if you cared probably not but I just wanted to put that out there.

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: strangergraphics-archive

[gagmebucky]

you know the drill.. unedited and all that

“Oh, you look like an angel but you aren’t acting like one,” he says with a laugh and a growl. “You left me on my birthday to lock yourself in my bathroom and fuck your fingers so I don’t want to hear anything except those sexy moans and your wet cunt doing just that. You get me?”

in which your best friend walks in on you masturbating and decides to lend a hand. (includes best friends to lovers, dirty talk, masturbation, voyeurism and exhibitionism, reader receiving oral, mild overstimulation.) 

—

Sometimes it just gets to be too much. 

The purr of your name, his filthy drawl of each letter—his big hands casually squeezing your hips, pulling you to and fro—when he presses into your back and coils around you like a lion laying claim—dark blue depths always pinning your visage in perverse approval—sinful lips twisting on the cue of his silver tongue, at the expense of your poor libido, on the intention of terrorizing your sensitivity. 

That man, your best fucking friend, is the devil behind thick dark waves of hair, a sharp jawline and broad physique; facial features a masculine cut like a juxtaposed angel. He’s always in your ear, whispering something caustic and obscene; shrugging it off like innocence with a pretty smile. But you feel it, spiking your temperature degree by degree. 

Today being his birthday, you’d think—you did think—he’d be caught up in the celebration. His apartment is a lavish slosh of liquor and music, friends and tag-alongs snagging his attention left and right. You expected as much, braced yourself to remain in the background. 

Which is difficult already, because you’re, well, a glutton and developed this voracious need to soak up all of his attention. And you’re reining that in, but he’s intent on driving you insane. 

Every time you’re on the cusp of cooling down from his previous encounter, he’s popping up to further ruin your panties and leave you aching in his wake. It’s impressive, really: his timing and effectiveness, the way it’s almost effortless. 

The worst part about it? You like it. 

The lovesick, masochistic side of you thrives on the sticky cling of your gusset, and the need that thrums between your legs. But you haven’t masturbated recently, and this attack (as it can only be categorized as such) on your overly responsive sex drive is really getting to you. 

You can’t stop squirming, subtly rubbing your thighs together like it’ll help, but it’s only making it worse. The ache just thrums and thrums, and no matter how many times you berate yourself, it won’t bat down. You feel like a teenager unable to control their hormones. 

It’s going to become unbearable. That’s a guarantee where he’s concerned. You’re slowly succumbing to the fate that if you don’t receive some sort of relief, you’ll have a full-on meltdown. Dramatic, yes, but God, you need an orgasm. 

It wouldn’t take long, either. No one would notice, you bet, if you slipped out. Your sensitivity has reached a hair-trigger, and given a minute or so alone, the blaze of your inner heath would be quelled. 

Taking a sly survey of your surroundings, all of your friends and others are preoccupied. You managed to slip out of a conversation on an excuse to get a drink. Your hand is enclosed around a beer bottle, but the cold condensation does not help with your fever like you hoped. 

You don’t bother drinking and set it down, knowing alcohol will worsen your problem, loosen your inhibitions and take you to a whole other wanton level. Fine! You’ve gotta do this. After a committed gander, you whirl around and march toward the privacy of the bathroom. 

Or you intend to since your body immediately collides with a wall instead. And, by wall, you mean the hard panels of your best friend’s chest, warmth radiating through a black t-shirt, spring fresh soap and his cologne swarming your senses. Contact alone sends a jolt through your nerves. 

You instinctively jerk, and his arms snaking around your waist yank you right back. A breath catches in your throat as your front molds to his, and he swiftly swings you into an one-eighty. Your hands splay against his pectorals, and you blink up at him, unnecessarily winded and unfocused, trying your earnest not to writhe into his embrace. 

“Now where do you think you’re goin’?” He cocks a brow. “You disappeared and have been over here by your lonesome, lookin’ all suspicious. Cute as always, but suspicious.” His head tilts and runs his gaze over you carefully. “What are you up to, gorgeous, and why haven’t you included me?” 

His sensory awareness is inhuman. It’s unfair, and you want to gawk at the uncanniness but you should be used to it by now. 

“I—uhm…” You can’t exactly tell him you’re sneaking off to masturbate, and you wrack your brain for an alternative explanation. “I’m just gonna… gonna check on my makeup! It’s been awhile since my last touch up, so I figure it’s about time. I know I look like a mess right now.”

He laughs. “Oh, let me save you the trip. You’re still lookin’ every bit of a sexy angel. No touch up necessary.” His hands slide down and squeeze your ass with one, and slaps it with the other, making you yelp and him grin. “Got the ass of one, too.”

“Ow!” You have an excuse to extract yourself from his embrace, and thank God because the sting goes straight to your clit. You shoot him a glare and rub the offended area, ignoring an urge to ask him to do it again, bastardizing the knowledge that he would be more than happy to. “That hurt!” 

He rolls his eyes. “It did not, you crybaby.” One arm loops around your waist, scooping you flush once again, and he’s edging toward your behind. “You better get used to it. I still have a lotta birthday licks left.” 

Your jaw drops. “It’s your birthday! You’re the one who’s supposed to get birthday licks.” 

“So you wanna lick me?” His sly smile does flip flops in your belly. He drops his head, and his voice is a purr in your ear: “What a coincidence. I wanna lick you, too.” 

You shiver, teeth puncturing your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste of crimson is worth preventing a moan from spilling out. Okay, this is fucking torture. You subconsciously lean into him before snapping back to reality and just about jump out of your skin. 

“A - and wash my hands!” you hastily add onto your earlier answer. “I - I was gonna touch up my makeup and wash my hands.” 

The suddenness surprises him. His baby blues blink at you, then there goes that inquisitive furrow of his brow. “Didn’t you already?” 

Yes, you did. In fact, the scented lotion you used afterwards is still fresh on your skin. 

“Um, yeah. But they’re bringing your cake out soon,” you say, slowly circling around inch-by-inch and backpedaling away, trying to look as relaxed as you don’t feel. “And thought I might as well before they do.”

“Huh.” He looks like he has to consider your words but can’t find anything odd. It makes sense, even in your awkward delivery, and maybe you can relax. “But you do know the kitchen’s back there.” He nods the entryway you passed. 

“Oh, right,” you say quite intelligently, following his line of sight. “Well, they’re preparing the cake, and I - I didn't want to get in the way.” It rolls off your tongue casually—believably. “So I figured I’d just use the sink in the bathroom.” 

“Oh, okay.” The answer satisfies his third-degree, and you suppress a sigh of relief. “Why don’t you use the one in my bedroom? I think someone’s in the one in the other.” 

“Perfect! Thanks.” You flash a smile, and he seems to let you escape. Then the faintest glint of suspicion suddenly flits across his face as he observes your winded breaths and the way you stumble off. Best not to give him another chance to interrogate you further. “I’ll be right back!”  

Then you turn, righting your movements in the process, and head for the hallway. It’s a straight shot past the guest bathroom and a turn of a corner to his bedroom. Luckily, in the packed space of his spacious apartment, that area is sectioned off. 

With excuse me’s and halfhearted hey’s, you wade through the herd and cross wood floors with quickened strides. You nearly trip on your heels, four-inch high mimic of gladiator sandals, laced up your calves, but you think you play it off well. Okay, probably not, but you make it out of sight seeming normal enough.

His bedroom is substantially quieter and cooler. That breeze does help with your heated skin, but the environment is inherently him so it cancels each other out. Closing that door, you’re already unzipping the cinch of your skirt and clamoring to the luxurious partition of his bathroom. 

It’s gorgeous inside. You’ve told him that a million times, and you’ve been here a million times but seriously—a wide granite countertop and waterfall faucet, walk-in shower and claw foot tub, you can’t get over it. He keeps it immaculate so you have no issue with letting your skirt halo to the gleaming tile ground. 

Unsurprisingly, your panties are ruined. The material clings like a second skin, sodden through and smeared on your inner thighs. It’s obscene, and you’d demand he pay for your dry cleaning, if he wasn’t already doing the majority of your laundry. 

You waste no time wriggling them down your hips, looping around the bend of your knees as you hop onto the counter and spread your legs. There’s an audible moan when your hand delves between your center, slick coating your fingers soft. A full bodied shudder slips down your spine, and your head falls back, jostling the mirror in the process. 

Oh, this is fucking good.

You find the angle and seize it in slippery circles. Even with your sloppy movements, everything falls aligned, and you’re seeing stars; not yet imploding but well on its way. The build-up on your own is never this quick. You wish you could experience it under ideal circumstances, draw it out, but a part of you thinks that’s what makes it so good. 

You know you shouldn’t be masturbating in your best friend’s bathroom, that it’s wrong, and you can get caught at any minute, but it’s those very illicit factors that run your libido wild, unearthing moans you mean to suppress. 

You compensate by shoving your shirt above your tits and biting down on the hemline. It’s one of those bustier camisoles so you didn’t bother with a bra. The air invokes a shiver, and you shiver again when your palm caresses a tit and rolls a hard peak between your fingers. 

The orgasm approaches like a roar, knocking in rapid succession, louder and louder than the last. It’s a hum, a vibration inside your head, reaching your ears all husky-like. Being in his bathroom, the lingering scent of his aftershave, and his interactions invoking your overall state, you swear you hear his voice. 

“O - oh.” Your moan is a whisper, falling above the wet squelch of your fingers by a decibel, and your toes curl on the precipice of hot-blooded relief. “Fuck, yes—”

Before the train plunges off the track into bliss, you realize that the knocking is not metaphorical and his voice isn’t simply an echo inside your head; but rather knuckles on the door and him repeatedly asking if you were okay on the other side.

“Okay, I’m coming in,” your best friend is saying before you fully process the past minute, aside from what was going to be a mindblowing orgasm. The knob twists (since, you know, you were too busy with your sex to lock it). “You got me worried, and I couldn’t hear what you were…”

The door opens fully, and his eyes widen as your compromised state centers to view. Your brain short circuits at the shock rippling underneath your skin, freezing you in place as if doused in ice water and undercutting the instinct to shutter, which unintentionally awards him a nice eyeful. 

You, perched on his sink counter, debauched and exposed, face sheened lightly in doe-eyed desperation. The hem of your white camisole ruffles above your braless tits, palming one of the hardened peaks. Your other hand is wedged between your spread thighs, pressing into your center with your underwear bunched below your knees. 

It’s a long moment, it feels like with his gaze running over every detail, before the shock snaps into mortification, and sense kicks in. 

The shirt drops from your teeth, and your legs clamp around your wrist in a poor effort to cover yourself. All the blood drains from your face as you try to think of some excuse, some recourse, or anything to make this be anything other than it is. 

“I - I can explain—” you start shakily, but the expression on his face shuts you up. 

His jaw clenches, and those friendly moonstone orbs narrow into dark slits, looking more severe than you’ve ever seen. He steps in and shuts the door behind him. Unlike you, he makes sure to latch the lock before stalking forward, and like a skittish cat, you watch his every move. 

He comes to a still in front of you. His hands grab each thigh and pries them open, to your gasp of surprise. “Keep going.” It’s an order, but he doesn’t give you a moment to obey, or even a second to recover from the shock, before dropping to his knees and pulling yours wider. 

Your hands fly to either side of the counter to stabilize yourself, unintentionally but consequently revealing your most intimate part to his equally prying eyes. Naturally, you try to shut your legs, but his hands have wrapped around your calves. The only way to compensate is to shove a shielding palm between your thighs, a hitched sound expelling through your teeth, literally sensitive to the touch. 

He shoots you a look but allows the action. His interest falls to your underwear still strained around your knees, and he tugs them down your legs. Your embarrassment burns hot in your cheeks as he examines the wetness heavying the fabric; his thumb drags across the gusset, your essence coating him in an obscene trail of stickiness.

There’s a slick pop, and you whimper when he sucks it clean of your taste. His eyes snap up at the sound, and he makes a dastardly show of doing it again. To further fuck with you, he takes it a step further and licks a slow, broad stripe through the center, a groan rumbling through his chest and lids fluttering shut as if savoring it. 

Your muscles twitch with a tremor, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip to retrain another whine; but it doesn’t matter because those dilated pupils pin on you like a glare. “Keep going,” he repeats, gritting it out like he shouldn’t have to, or, like he’s barely keeping himself from doing it himself. 

The adrenaline pumping through your veins has you woozy, heart thundering, and though he’s said it twice, you don’t think you heard him correctly. “B - but—”

“Oh, you look like an angel but you aren’t acting like one,” he says with a laugh and a growl. “You left me on my birthday to lock yourself in my bathroom and fuck your fingers so I don’t want to hear anything except those sexy moans and your wet cunt doing just that. You get me?”

That gets through your head like a shot of the best liquor you’ve ever tasted. Maybe you should recoil in shock; at the very least, question this shift in your relationship boundaries, but you don’t. All this mania whirling inside you because of him, for him, it doesn’t even occur to you. 

Incisors fixing into your bottom lip, you nod, albeit shyly. “Y - yeah,” you breathe, adjusting your weight as best as you can without exciting your libido just yet. “I got you.”

So, with his eyes on you like a hawk, your tentative fingers find your clit. Your heavy lids fall onto him watching you, transfixed by the microexpressions filtering across his face. You wonder if this’ll affect him in a similar way he affected you; God, you hope so.

The first touch is a spark to a flame, a simmering speed kickstarted into high gear. The seamless way you fall into rhythm, jittery as you are, flurry of emotion and sensation, is shameless. You promised yourself a reckoning, and your body is primed for it. 

A palm grasps the edge of the counter while you swirl something wild on your slick bundle of nerves. There’s a slight tremor in your arm muscles; call it a symptom of performance anxiety because he’s utterly captivated. You work harder, picking up the pace as you shudder out moans. 

His blessing, your need to obey, the sounds bounce free in the echo of his bathroom. Initially low and breathy, bashful to be heard, you’re crescendoing into full, wanton moans now, and he loves it, spurring you on more. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he whispers, pupils blown wide, dark and dangerous, obsession ping-ponging between your hand and your face. “Look at you. Pretty baby, I knew your pussy would be just as pretty. All fucking soaked, wet to your fucking knees. Keep moving your fingers like that. Does it feel good?” 

Your head bobbles, lashes fluttering heavy. “It - it does,” you say with an impending climax on the tips of your fervid fingers, voice an airy quiver with the addendum: “It feels really, really good.”

The grip on your calves tighten, then slide up to your knees. His thumbs stroke circles on the sensitive skin on the inside, mimicking your own movements and somehow falling in sync, becoming increasingly sloppy and frantic. 

“Yeah, you’re good at this. You do this a lot, don’t you, angel?” There’s a flushed sheen on his cheeks and knowingness in his blue pools, further confirmed by your hitched breath. “Y’gonna cum then?” he asks, though the answer is clear. “Think you’ve been good enough to?” 

The threat of another denial makes you groan, weaning into a whimper. “I need to.” 

“Oh, angel, I can tell,” he says with a click of sympathy, mimicking your pout. “But you look so cute when you’re desperate, and you know I love it when you beg. Go on, and give me a little first. Show me how good of a girl you are.” 

“P - please,” you moan immediately, “please, James.” 

“Fuck, you know I’ll give you anything.” He pushes to his feet as his hand shoots out and covers yours, guiding you fast-paced into the throes of an orgasm. “I’ll give you everything. Now show me how pretty you are when you cum.” 

That's all you need. With a sharp moan of his name, the dam breaks, and it feels like you’re floating. Hot-blooded relief ripples through your system and has you quaking. Wave after wave works through you, and every second is well worth the wait. 

Your muscles are straining, and you’re panting by the time it subsides. All the while, he’s locked onto you, eating it up, crooning encouragement and praises; ravenous eyes and husky voice, it’s almost enough to set you off a second time. 

His other hand catches you by the jaw, a pinched grip keeps your face angled on him while his strokes slow. “Oh, you’re fucking gorgeous. Always have been, always will, but when you’re coming and moaning my name…” he says with a groan, “you’re a real life fucking dream.”

He sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you moan at the sight. It takes a moment to overcome your panting, only able to manage a, “That felt s - so good.” That was your best orgasm to date, and it was his hand in this situation that caused that outcome.

“Just what you needed.” His thumb traces your bottom lip, dark eyes enthralled by your unruly come down, laying in wait. “You satisfied, angel?” he says, a rhetorical fluctuation that fans over your sensitive skin. “Lying to me, leaving—”

“It’s not my fault!” you blurt out before he can finish listing your sins, making him cock an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have—I would’ve waited—I wanted to wait, but you - you kept saying things and touching me, and… and… I just couldn’t help it. I’m sorry!” 

He looks astounded, at a loss for words momentarily. “So you’re blaming me?” is the implication you’re giving, and he’s getting. “I talked to you and barely touched you, but that got you so worked up that you had to lock yourself in my bathroom and masturbate—in the middle of my birthday party?” 

That sounds maybe not the best way to put it, but it's also entirely accurate. “Well, um…” You can’t think of a nicer, less accusatory manner of phrasing. “Y - yes?” 

There’s a second of silence before both of his hands grasp your face with a groan of, “That’s so fucking cute.” 

Then he’s reeling you into a heady kiss. Tongue deep but slow, and you melt into him like butter on a skillet. It’s better than you imagined—and, boy, you have imagined it; like him, controlled but not overbearing, gentle with a pulsing, singing heat. 

Parting is reluctant, and he nuzzles his lips over yours before starting a trail down your neck. His hands fall to your thighs when you tilt your head to the side for easier access, sliding upward with his thumbs kneading circles into your muscles. 

You gasp, then moan at the influx of stimulation, not a direct barrage on your center but resonates there, anyway. Your knees instinctively lock around his waist as he finds his way to your chest, dipping below the ruffle of your shirt and taking a hard peek into his mouth. 

“F - fuck.” You shudder against him, into him, the current of electricity sparking in your bones, burying your hands in his hair.

“My sexy little angel and her needy cunt,” he purrs and gives you a peck before dropping to his knees again, eyes hungry as he pulls you to the counter edge, legs spread. “I’ll make it all better.”

Even with the lull, with your libido, tormented something grand, the aftershocks still tremor within your muscles. A drop of pain with every shot of pleasure; the former spikes sky-high as his mouth melds to the bare sensitivity of your sex. 

A sharp sound escapes you, jolting entirely against a barrage of smarting sensations. Your legs end up over his shoulders, heels grazing the flex of his shoulder blades as another tremor lulls through your body. 

“I - I think I’m too sensitive—“ 

“No, no,” he says, insistent, pulling away for only a second, “it’s okay. I got you. You just enjoy the ride ‘cause I know I am.” 

Then he hunkers down and delves in like a starved man getting his fill. His strong arms encircle your thighs, bulging muscles and veins as he keeps you spread and vulnerable, laid out with your legs propped over his shoulders.

The wet warmth of his mouth forms a seal around you, tongue flattening against your clit and cheeks hollowing with suction. A squeal escapes your throat as your nerves fray, and your body jerks, but it doesn’t do much against his ironclad grip. 

You feel him grin, his dilated pupils a gleam of mischief; so you retaliate by burying your hands in his hair and yanking at the roots, hard. A groan rumbles through his throat, and his eyes roll back, shutting, then reopening with a distinctly primal intensity reflecting up at you. 

With a growl, he does it, again, swathing the sensitive bud in raw sensation until you’re grappling his thick locks; which only makes him groan in delight and nuzzle his face deeper. He spreads your outer lips with his thumb and forefinger while he laps at your center like a bear would to honey. 

“O - oh, God—fuck!” you gasp and moan. “You’re so good at this—h - how are you so good at this?” 

His other hand slides underneath and finds your entrance. His middle finger pushes through your folds knuckle-deep, and your silk walls contract around the sudden intrusion. The rough pad crooks into your sweet spot and drags over it as he sets a determined pace. 

It’s a practiced attack with his tongue coddling your bundle of nerves, and his dexterity stroking you into oblivion. You think you’re going to lose your mind (if you haven’t already). The intensity makes you woozy, a James-induced high, and the only thing your vision can focus on is him. 

The room is a hybrid of your desperate moans and his hungry groans; the messy smack of his mouth on you, your sex squelching around his long, thick digit. It’s pornographic and so fucking hot, the perfect soundtrack for another orgasm to roll in—

And two loud knocks bang against the door and startle you both. 

“B, will you come on?!” his sister’s voice shouts through the door—thankfully, no tonal hints being privy to what was happening inside—and you hear her impatient foot tapping on the other side. “We’re ready to cut the cake!” 

James’ eyes cloud with agitation, a growl in his throat as he has to detach himself from you and bites out, “Then cut it!” 

She huffs. “It’s your birthday! I told you, we can’t cut it without you.”

“Fine!” he snaps. “I'll be there in five minutes.” 

“You had five minutes ten minutes ago. You have two.” Her footsteps start to fade, then stop as she adds, “And I don’t know where your best friend is but she better come in the next two minutes, or we’re cutting the cake without her!” There’s a door slam, confirming her egress from his bedroom.

“Oh, she’ll come in the next two minutes,” he murmurs, a devilish smile glittering up at you. “You’re gonna come real hard.”

And you do. 

His middle finger thrusts inside you and curls into your g-spot, using the very tip to repeatedly rasp pressure over it. In tandem, his mouth once more claims your molten core for his own and his taste buds bully your clit. It has you pulling his hair, and when he makes that feral growl, baby blues alight, you don’t really have any other choice than to crumble. 

You come with a cry. His name a curse and blessing—James—on your lips as your muscles cramp up, and your inner muscles clamp down. Everything shakes, rattled to the very core, your leg trembling over his shoulders and unintentionally digging your heels into his back. 

Your bones liquefy. The rush of euphoria breaks you apart in the most exquisite way possible and turns you into mush. The grip on his hair loosens as the arch in your spine relaxes, but your hips continue to writhe as his tongue tracks your plummet. 

“B - Bucky,” you whimper pitiful, smarting shocks chopping at your overworked nerves. “T - too much.” 

He hums, and you whimper again, which convinces him— despite his reluctance—to ease his onslaught. “Alright, if you insist,” he says and licks his lips glossy with your essence. “But I told you I’d get my birthday licks, and I’ve only gotten started.” 

He stands up and grabs your skirt off the ground. His shoulders square as he slips the waistband around your ankles, and you take the hint to slide off the counter so he can hoist it around your hips. Your legs are jelly, but you stay upright all the same, flattening your clutches into his shirt. 

“So, when this party ends, I’m going to taste you for hours,” he tells you and unfurls your top to its rightful place over your tits and stomach, smoothing out the additional ruffles. “My tongue is gonna fuck you right here…”  His hand sinks under your open zipper and pets your bare sex, index finger tracing your slit. ”…until you’ve cum so many times you go numb from it all.” 

He places a chaste kiss on your temple when you whine, dropping his lips to your ear. “Then I’m gonna keep going ‘cause you taste too fucking good to stop.”

[anjelicawrites]

💡 Cringefail Throuple:

Smutty idea: Reader and Billy torment Michael by not letting him cum until he’s recited the first 100 digits of pi

Non-smutty idea: how do Michael and Reader react when Billy tells them what happened to him (ya know, almost going boom)?

I think we all need a short break from Aemond after the last two days 😮‍💨

Hello again nonnie!!!

Let's answer the non smutty question first and the filth second!!!

NSFW and 18+ only

"What do you mean, car bomb?" Michael shouts, his accent out of control. "What do you mean alt-right fanatics?" You scream, priorities skewed as per usual.

Billy knew he had to tell you two when the nameless thing you three were, had transformed in a serious relationship. He didn't know how to breach the subject to you two, the weight of not talking on his shoulder, until he just spurts it out, one spring Saturday morning, while you three are having a very late breakfast.

Billy can feel his ears turning red as he tells you two everything, still ashamed of the low he had managed to reach back in London, afraid of your reactions.

"You are an imbecile." Michael's voice is cutting. "What the fuck were you thinking?" "I wasn't thinking!" He manages to say, eyes lowered. "I was in a dark place!"

He's lacking the courage to stare at the two of you and your silence isn't helping. More than once you had been at protests against alt right groups, what you think of people like his former friends is clear.

"That's why you don't like cars?"

Billy almost jumps out of his skin when your hand lands on his.

"Yes." He manages to say with a strangled voice. "Oh, Billy..." You sit on his legs, your arms going around his neck. "Stupid idiot!" Michael is not big on PDA, doesn't like them, yet he curls his arms around Billy's torso and sits his head on Billy's. "I hope you've retrieved your brain from the gutter you lost it."

Billy's hands grab at you and Michael as he desperately tries not to cry and you two hug him even tighter.

***

Warning: ass play, oral (male receiving), orgasm denial.

The first 100 digits of pi are 3,14159 26535 89793 23846 26433 83279 50288 41971 69399 37510 58209 74944 59230 78164 06286 20899 86280 34825 34211 70679, the numbers clear in his head, he doesn't even have to make an effort, but his tongue is tied: he can't speak, just whine and moan like an animal in heath. How can he not, when your tongue is licking his engorged cock slowly, following every vein, every drop of precome that slides down his manhood, your hand curled like a vise around his base, blocking his orgasm and Billy's fingers are fucking his arse, nice and slow, making him gape every time he tries to speak.

"Three comma one four, one five, nin...ah!".

The string of numbers disappears, only pleasure reigns in his brain when Billy's fingers start to hit his prostate with intent.

"It's just one hundred numbers. I don't see why you can't. Mind over flesh, right?" Billy chides him, his lips so near his ear Michael's skin breaks goosebumps with every word. "Fuck you" Michael mewls, his back arching. "In due time, genius boy. Where were we at? Yeah, your numbers." Billy's voice is a low rasp, his accent thick with arousal. "Three comma one four, one five, nine, two six, Christ!" He swears when your lips slide fast on his cock, his head hitting the back of your throat, your cheeks hollowed to drive him crazy.

It's his fault that he's been tormented like that, boasting how his brain is stronger than his flesh and that he could do his math under any circumstances, even during sex.

"Are you tapping out?" Billy asks, adding another finger in, slowly stretching Michael's tight arse.

Michael's brain barely registers his lover's words, his hips pistoning violently inside your mouth, following the fast movements of your lips around his cock, chasing his orgasm, the pleasure burning through his nerves, only to feel your wicked mouth leave his cock with a pop. He whines and trashes, Billy's fingers breaching him even deeper than the other man intended, your hand around his cock the only reason he hasn't come, yet.

You stare at him, ravished as he is, lovely mouth bitten raw, neck and torso covered with hickeys and bites, back arching to the point of pain. He's so beautiful and desperate to come and you know he's not going to tap out, that's not who your Michael is, it's up to you and Billy to slow down, until he's ready to go again.

Billy's fingers stop fucking him, his lips on his forehead to calm him, your free hand caresses his torso with slow, circular motions to ease him back to himself, soft words of encouragement spilling from you, until Michael focuses on you two again, as much as he can without his glasses.

"Are you good, baby?" You ask him. "Yeah. This is nothing." He boasts. "You can't help yourself, can you?" Billy's voice is soft, his fingers scissor Michael's hole mercilessly. "We're still waiting for those first hundred digits."

He resumes fucking him leisurely, hitting his prostrate with every pass, forcing his arse to open up to him.

"You know you can't come if you don't tell us." You growl, your tongue gently licking his head with round motions that make his hips kick. "You said you can." Your lips leave kisses up and down his length, your tongue teasing his length. "When you do, we'll let you come and then we'll fuck you, nice and slow."

Michael's body trembles, his hands curling on Billy's beds heets with a white knuckled grip. He can manage, the digits are in his head, he can say all of them, and next time you two will be the ones being tormented.

[mermaidsirennikita]

do you have any historical romance books that involve the MMC groveling? I do love a good groveling scene, esp when it’s like…literal on-his-knees groveling (though not only when it’s that kind)

Oh yes, def!

When the Earl Met His Match by Stacy Reid. My favorite Stacy Reid, the heroine is pregnant out of wedlock by a man who won't marry her, and her parents want to send her unborn child to a baby farm (very bad) so she basically shows up on the hero's doorstep in Scotland because they've been corresponding (having never met) by letter. He's actually mute, and he agrees to marry her and claim her baby as his own. It's really lovely and hot and he's honestly a great guy, but things happen towards the end that necessitate a grovel and he does an AMAZING one imo. He does get on his knees.

The Day of the Duchess by Sarah MacLean. I'm not SURE Haven gets on his knees, but he might as well, and he is on his knees on the stepback (which I oooown, can't believe the luck). So the hero cheated on the heroine (it's a revenge thing), and she runs off, only to return on his doorstep in labor with their baby. They lose the baby, and the heroine again flees, only to return two years later wanting a divorce. He agrees to give it to her... on the condition that she helps him find his next wife, which is really a way for him to grovel and try to get her back. It's a book-long grovel.

Her Lovestruck Lord by Scarlett Scott. The hero and heroine have a marriage of convenience that he never intends to do right by; he doesn't consummate it and returns to the arms of his longtime mistress, a married woman. The heroine waits for a year before getting really pissed and going to this masked sex party, determined to cuck and humiliate this husband she's seen like, once. And guess who's also at the masked sex party after being dumped by his mistress? Guess who accidentally deflowers his wife? Guess who starts feeling REAL bad about some shit? It has one thing I don't loooove but I overall found this very enjoyable in an OTT soapy way, and it satisfied my love of the grovel.

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley. Another "gotta get her back" book. Mac and Isabella got married like, the night they met each other, and had this very passionate marriage that fell apart after a tragedy (also: Mac needs to grow up). She leaves his ass for years, but they stay legally married, and theeeen she comes back to let him know that someone is forging paintings and claiming they're by Mac (who's like, a famous painter). She just wanted to let him know, nothing else! And he becomes determined to get her back. It's SO GOOD. At one point they have oral sex that involves like, breakfast. It's great.

Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall. If you want something different for a historical grovel moment, this is a nb/nb romance. Peggy is genderfluid, and her friend/ex wants Peggy to help her seduce this famous castrato soprano (knowing for being an exceptionally good lay) Orfeo. Orfeo immediately takes an interest in Peggy instead, and they fall in love, but they're both afraid of committing and Orfeo has a Past, and there's this really lovely, fun "hit your knees and beg" moment towards the end that I LOVE.

The Hawk by Monica McCarty. Medieval Scottish romance, the hero is a famous seafarer/pirate type who doesn't take anything seriously; the heroine is a very serious young woman he picks up out of the ocean (and I think? She's on the side of the enemy). They gradually fall in love and fuck on a raft in the middle of a storm, but of course he fucks it up and has to do a BIG gesture at the end. Very classic "man who won't let himself fall in love falls for woman who refuses to admit she's in love with him" book.

The Notorious Lord Knightly by Lorraine Heath. Another book-long grovel/grand gesture. The hero and heroine were engaged years ago, but he left her at the altar. They cross paths again when a scandalous book by an anonymous writer begins circulating, and everyone is like "uh dude this sounds like you" and he's like "it is N--" before reading it and finding her to be like "UMMMMM this is EXACTLY the kind of sexy shit we did together???? What the fuck girl???" She's PISSED lol, and with good reason. He's.... very hot.

A Rogue's Rules for Seduction by Eva Leigh. Another "he left her at the altar" book, but this time they're brought back together by their friends, who trick them into going to the same house party on an ISLAND. He.... does hit his knees. Like. He hits his knees with such dedication and enthusiasm that he actually damages said knees. But he's happy to be there.

Wicked in His Arms by Stacy Reid. Stern hero meets feisty heroine and "dislikes" her immediately; then they impetuously fuck in his closet (she loses her virginity on like... a desk) and she runs down the hall sobbing and he chases after her and they run straight into his mom and sister so BOOM marriage. They develop a real relationship over time, but he fucks up and has to do a bIG gesture.

Untamed by Elizabeth Lowell. Classic medieval (written in the 90s) wherein the hero and heroine are in an arranged marriage after he defeats her father, and he's determined to have an heir. He suspects her of fucking her friend (she didn't) before the marriage, so he kinda acts like an asshole, and then they fall in love, but then he acts like an asshole again, and she gets taken by enemy forces and doesn't even believe he'll want her back and... well. He does. A very. Impactful. Spiel. About what he'll do to get her back. And it is part of a very dramatic grovel.

The Bride Goes Rogue by Joanna Shupe. Heroine believes she and the hero will marry due to an agreement their fathers made, and he's like "lmao no", so she decides to go wild and heads out to a masked sex part with her BFF. Who is the masked guy she fucks, but her sexy former fiance? They begin a fwb type thing, he fucks up, and commences with a pathetic pitiful delightful grovel that makes him seem like a kicked dog, basically. It's great.

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean. Heroine wants to experience the world as she resigns herself to spinsterhood, enlists local sexy rake to help her. There is much accidental trampling on her heart in the process. He's definitely on his knees on the floor begging her to forgive him at one point.

The Earl Takes All by Lorraine Heath. This one is Gorilla Twins (all hail Gorilla Twins) so uh.... Yeah, Edward has shit to grovel over. And he does, in classic angsty Lorraine Heath fashion. Very few authors do pure angst as well as Lorraine. It is fucking magic.

[gakehc]

Cringe Lord

Joel can be so cringe that bothers you a lot but you can't deny that he is hot and he obviously thinks the same about you. Just the two of you alone in the studio can lead you to a naughty game.

♡ Author's note: I saw someone calling Joel "cringe lord" and I had this idea. Not my best work but I decided to post it anyway.

♡ Warnings:  This is a work involving real people but it's 100% fiction writen. Please remember that this is only for fun purposes and it doesn't reflect their real thoughts and behaviors. Don't take this work too serious. +18 only. Oral sex (m and f); dirty talk.

♡ Characters: Joel Hokka × fem reader

♡ Words: 1.956

♡ MASTERLIST HERE.

You run through the sidewalk avoiding bumping into people as you try to get to the studio as fast as you can. You are already late – one hour to be exact – so you don't want to make the boys wait even more for you. Niko and Joonas thought that it would be a good idea if you could help with the backing vocals for the next Blind Channel album since – according to them – you have a beautiful voice. You never really sang something professionally, just on drunk karaoke nights or Instagram stories so you are a little bit nervous; you would hate to do a bad job and disappoint your friends.

When you finally arrive you find it strange to hear only silence since the boys are always talking loud and laughing. Soon you realize that you are almost alone, the only one here besides you is Joel. He is sitting on the couch with his cellphone in hands, trying to take a good selfie or something like that. You hold a laugh when he starts to film something that probably is for his Tiktok account.

“Hey cringe lord” you say, making him jump in fright.

“Shit!” He says, dropping his phone on the center table.

“Don't stop because of me, please. I was having fun watching you being so ridiculous” you drop your purse at the table, sitting on his side on the couch.

He just rolls his eyes as he keeps recording himself. You two don't get along very well, you think Joel is kinda boring; always trying to be the vampire prince of darkness like Ville Valo or something. It makes you want to puke. On his side, he doesn't have enough patience for you because he thinks you are too nice – or miss perfect, like he always calls you.

“Where are the rest of the boys?” You ask.

“They got tired and hungry so they decided to go buy some food… You know that it's really bad when people have to wait hours for someone” he says, his eyes still locked on the cellphone screen.

“I got stuck at work. I'm sorry to make the other guys wait. About you… well, I'm not sorry” you give him a grin “What are you doing?”.

You grab the phone from his hands, reading the title of the filter he was trying on: Your love story in 2024. A loud laugh comes from your mouth and you try to hold but the idea of Joel caring about this kind of stuff sounds like a joke to you – even though he is just having fun.

“That's so pathetic!” You roll his eyes.

“I don't fucking care”.

He presses the button and starts to record, and soon the result appears: enemy to lovers. He tries to hide the result from you but your eyes already caught everything. A heath grows in your stomach just to think about the possibility of things changing between you and Joel. Yes, he is very – very – attractive and it would be nice to kiss him if he wasn't such a dumbass.

“Impossible” you say.

“Why? Are you the only enemy I have in my life?”.

“Well… if you are open to a relationship with those jerks from record labels who tried to take advantage from the band, I think I am the only one who would fit in this enemy to lovers type of shit. The other girls would kill to suck you small dick”.

“You don't know shit and it's not small”.

“Yeah, right!” You sound sarcastic.

“I bet I would make you choke on my cock with such an ease”.

“It's good for you to have such high self esteem but please you need limits. And I bet you couldn't make me cum even if your life depends on it”.

“Oh I know I could… give me five minutes and I will prove it to you”.

You laugh again but the idea doesn't sound bad to you. It would be nice to see how good mr. cringe lord can be and that doesn't mean you need to show him that you – maybe – are enjoying. Taking him by surprise, you pin him against the couch and straddle his lap. His blue eyes show desperation as he is still trying to figure out what to do with his hands.

“What is this?” He ask.

“You asked for five minutes. Show me what you can do”.

You can see his chest going up and down with the rhythm of his heart that is certainly beating really fast. He stares at your lip before finally kissing you, your mouth immediately open for his tongue to enter. He tastes good like mint drops or something, feels freshening. Joel is not as wild as you thought he would be, maybe he is a little afraid of pushing your limits. His big hands roam through your back, entering above your shit and touching your skin, making you shiver from head to toe. You lift your arms so he can take your shit off and so he does, taking his own shirt right after. The scar next to his shoulder steals your attention and you lick it, making sure to look deep into his eyes and smile.

“Fucking whore” he gruns, bitting his lower lip.

“And you're boring. I can't believe I am still wearing my bra”.

Joel finally opens your bra and tosses it to the other side of the room. He bites your nipple carefully, making you feel a soft pain that takes a moan from you, which makes him smirk. His hand is so big that he can hold your boob entirely and squeeze roughly, his fingers playing with your nipple.

“You're not impressing me” you tease him.

He rolls you and makes you lay on your back, taking off your shoes and jeans. He laughs to see that your underwear is wet, proving that he has impacted you. He pushes the fabric to the side, revealing your soaking wet folds. He inserts two fingers inside of you without warning, hooking them until he finds the spongy spot that surely will make you cum.

“Hm… you're smart” you say, noticing how quick he can find your sweet spot.

He takes his finger in and out but what makes it almost impossible for you to hold your moans is when his tongue touches your clit. He licks you right there when you need the most, fast and intensely, taking you by surprise on how fast you are feeling your orgasm growing. It's almost impossible to hide the fact that your clit is throbbing, Joel is probably feeling on his tongue, but you try to put on your best bored face because you would never admit that he is making you cum so fast. You can feel him smiling while he sucks your folds non stop, deep inside he is enjoying finally tasting you. He can act like he hates you but the fact it's that he always thought about eating you out. His big nose all smeared with your juices is such a nice scene for you.

You bite your lower lip when you feel your apex taking control, trying not to show any emotion but Joel notices that your back is contracting and your legs are shaking involuntarily. He grins sensually, feeling satisfied to know that he was right: your orgasm took less than five minutes to come.

“It seems that I was right” he says.

“Maybe. You also said that I would choke in your cock. I doubt that”.

He gets on his knees on the couch and unbutton his pants, your eyes shining as you watch his bulge getting bigger inside his underwear. It doesn't seem to be small at all. He pulls down his underwear, his cock free and hard as a rock, precum leaking and making your mouth water. It's not that thick but it's definitely long and can easily reach your throat. You lean towards his crotch, looking in his eyes before taking your tongue out and leaving a small lick at the tip of his cock. He seems nervous – maybe desperate to feel your pretty lips around him. He holds your head and pushes against his cock, making you suck the whole thing, the tip touching the deepest part of your mouth. You close your eyes and try not to cough as he pulls it in and off, fucking your mouth slowly. Joel is enjoying seeing you struggling to suck him, your eyes already watering. You try to breathe with your nose while he quickens the pace, even though it's hard to have everything in your mouth you are enjoying. Soon, you hold his shaft with your hands and then go slow to play with his balls. That's a clear sign that you are having fun.

“Look at you… you are enjoying it, aren't you?” He says, his voice sounding almost like a groan.

You roll your eyes but you keep going, Joel doesn't even need to move his hips anymore. Saliva starts to drip down your chin and you know you probably look like a total mess.

“What if the boys see you here sucking me like the whore you are?” He asks.

His words turn you on even more and you wish you could feel him inside of you but it would be too risky – the door is unlocked, the boys could enter at any minute. You feel the rush making your heart beat faster, Joel cursing and groaning as he feels that he is about to cum.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum…” he closes his eyes with pleasure.

“Fill my mouth, then” you only take his cock out from your mouth to say those words.

Joel's moans are extremely sexy when he reaches his orgasm, the warm liquid reaching your throat as you swallow everything quickly. He puts his underwear and pants back as you do the same with your jeans and your shirt. You see your face on your cell phone screen and your face is smeared in saliva and melted mascara. You quickly wipe it with a tissue that you always carry on your bag, looking normal again. Soon, you hear the voices from the other guys: they are finally here. Joel smirks as he thinks about how lucky you are because he finished on time for you to not get caught.

“About what happened…” he says.

“We will finish this later, at my apartment”.

Your answer takes him by surprise. He didn't expect you to want to be with him again and it seems that you have plans.

“Let's see if your cock is good inside my pussy” you say, without looking at him as you wait for the door to open.

Finally, you see Niko, Joonas and Aleksi entering the door. They are happy to see you as they carry some paper bags with food.

“Hey! You're here!” Joonas says “Sorry to make you spend time with Joel”.

“Not a big deal. Actually, I was pretty late so I am the one who needs to apologize”.

“That's ok”.

“Joonas?” Niko asks “Is that your bra?” He lifts the bra that he found next to the door.

“That's not mine, dude! I like to let my beautiful tits free”.

“Aleksi?”.

“Nope. Not mine” Aleksi laughs.

The three boys look at you and Joel, waiting for an answer.

“Well… it's mine” Joel says, taking the piece from Niko's hand.

“Yeah, I see…”.

You feel your face getting red. How could you forget your bra? Now it's clear to everyone that something naughty happened here but the boys are nice enough to not talk about it and make you feel ashamed.

“Mystery solved. Now let's work”.

[divinekangaroo]

just enough to let me drown - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | ? | ?

During S6-E5, starting with Tommy meeting Diana at the narrowboat, how he gets back to Arrow, that particular Dinner, through to Tommy returning home after dropping Jack Nelson off at the train.

Tommy was running out of women who didn’t look like other women. If Lizzie found out, he’d have only redheads left to fuck in his old age.

No. No old age. Only this.

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Diana Mitford/Tommy Shelby, Past Oswald Mosley/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Past Oswald Mosley/Lizzie Stark, Jack Nelson, Charles Strong, Small Heath Sex Worker | Reference to Incest, Dehumanisation, Cigarette Burns, Disassociation, Racism, Class Issues, Intrusive Thoughts, Extremely Dubious Consent, Post Rationalisation, Flashbacks, Dyfunctional Relationship, Self Harm, Oral Trauma, Trauma, Plausible Deniability, Close POV/Unreliable Narration, Horrible Dinner Parties, Prostitution, Shame, Hurt/Comfort, Eating Inedible Objects, Vomiting, Pre-Seizure Markers, Where Fascism becomes a Personally Targetted Sexual Nightmare, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Falling Off the Wagon, Unreliable Memory, Hoarding, Orgasm Control, Innuendo, Ethnic Slurs, Trying (so fucking hard!) to Communicate (emotion is the enemy of oratory!), Spiralling, Purposeful Ambiguity, Failed Love Confession/s

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