#robert fischer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 1 year ago

Text

TOEING THE LINE ─── robert fischer ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Love him. Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” — ‘Giovanni’s Room’, James Baldwin.

pairing. robert fischer x secretary!reader

summary. being robert’s secretary means doing everything for him. everything.

warnings. swearing, oral sex (m), creampie, p in v, mention of handjob, sex as stress relief, intimacy issues, quickies, crying, fluff, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.8k

a/n. honestly this is just downright filth. robert & reader’s relationship/the way they treat each other is also a little confusing so i apologize LOL

Being Robert’s secretary means doing everything for him: sending congratulatory gifts to his clients, picking up his drycleaning, answering his emails, and even booking his dentist appointments.

It means doing everything he asks, and everything you think he needs; he trusts your judgment, he said, because you know more about him than anyone in the entire world — even himself.

It means doing everything for him. Everything.

Robert had heaved a large sigh as he sat down in the backseat of his car; undone his tie; ran a veiny hand through his gelled hair. From that much, you could tell he was stressed. You knew him like the back of your hand, and, after being his secretary for three years, you also knew what relieved him best.

Your lips are wrapped around his cock the moment he gets home.

You were kneeling between his legs, hands curling around the base of his cock and stroking whatever you couldn’t fit - which wasn’t much, your throat having long since been trained to take his length all the way.

Grunts and groans spilled out of his mouth above you, but you didn’t look at him; you never looked at him - he’d been adamant about that, when you first sucked him off. Robert never told you why, just that your gaze should never reach his; you thought it had something to do with his vulnerability, his parental issues rearing its ugly head in every part of his life, even his sexual one.

Robert’s hands wrapped around your wispy locks, giving you a makeshift ponytail, and you flicked small licks on his tip before descending back down on him. His grip on your hair tightened, and as you curled your warm tongue along his shaft, he began to bob your head up and down on him, faster, harder, hard enough tears formed in your eyes.

He was stressed, so he was rough. But you took it in stride: he was your boss, after all, paying you the big bucks for your service, be it actual secretarial duties or requests just a step away from prostitution.

You gag, once or twice, on account of how brutally the head of his cock is bruising the back of your throat, and Robert slows down; stills like he’s nervous you’ll break, but you continue expertly, focussing on lapping up the beads of precome spilling from his slit. You breathed in and out shakily, ignoring the ache in your jaw.

His hands then left your hair, instead fumbling for the armrests of the leather chair and squeezing down on them as his back arched and his head threw back: he was close.

When one of your hands left his length and reached down to fondle his balls, Robert let go, a stuttered moan leaving him, and he released his load straight down your throat. You felt it spurt and coat your mouth, wet and thick. The only thing left in the room was your breathing, his high and tinny, yours haggard and desperate for oxygen.

After a moment, you got up, noting how tight your legs felt while wiping a drop of come from the side of your mouth with your thumb. “Rest up, Mr. Fischer,” you insisted gently, resuming immediate professionalism, “you have a nine-o-clock with the head of Proclus Global tomorrow.”

Between breaths, Robert finally looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, buttoning his dress pants back up. “Saito?” he wondered aloud.

You nodded silently in response. It was certainly odd to inform Robert about his schedule and meetings like you didn’t just have his hard cock in your mouth, but after three years it became part of the job. You reckon you could ride him and still arrange his doctors appointments by phone.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Fischer.” You addressed him with that title, ‘Mr. Fischer’, to keep a distance. Despite what you often did for him, you still considered yourself just his subordinate; just his secretary.

You then turned, kitten heels clacking quietly on his hardwood floor, primly and properly leaving his condo with the taste of his salty come still imprinted on your tongue.

ii.

By eight am sharp, you’ve returned to his condo. Robert would need a little more than what he got last night, especially since he’d be meeting Saito, like you said.

You mapped out his habits and what he was like a long, long time ago. He’s got a higher-than-average sex drive, but no time to be in a relationship with anyone — thus, your duties. Blowjobs after a long day and a quickie at least five times a week are a must, and never, ever, kiss him.

Robert’s… well, a slight sex addict, having to regularly fuck or get pleasured just to keep sane, but intimacy’s got him hiding under the covers like he’s just seen a ghost. You, on the other hand, can’t discern the difference between if you have sex and kiss or just have sex - it's both sex.

It’s just a thing that needs to be done in the end, and in Robert’s case, it’s like eating or sleeping: he needs it to live, so he gets it and lives. Simple as that. There are no feelings between you two, and it’s been that way for as long as you’ve been his secretary.

You entered Robert’s condo easily, having a key and all, where you then found him pacing in his large walk-in closet, fiddling with his rings.

You knocked lightly on the wall to alert him, stepping in when he noticed you and visibly relaxed. “Good morning, Mr. Fischer.” you stated, setting his drycleaning down on one of the velvet settee benches in the middle of the room.

“Morning,” Robert said absently. Without warning nor another word, he stepped closer to you, hands immediately pressing into your waist. His palms were sweaty, a feverish need radiating off him as he kneaded at you, pressing you against one of the many closet doors.

He was nervous, no doubt the result of the impending meeting with Saito, which equated a frenzied mood sexually. So, you wasted no time, quickly unbuckling his trousers and unzipping his fly, letting your stockings pool at your ankles, hiking your skirt up to your hips.

Robert’s hands grasped at your soft thighs, lifting a leg around him as one of your hands slipped down the waistband of his underwear, pulling his cock out. You pumped his length slowly, before spitting into your other hand, pushing your panties to the side and coating your cunt in the slick. You decorated your lips with the wetness, then carefully lined up his thick head with your entrance.

You bit your lip, wincing as he pushed in; no matter how many times you’d fucked — which was plenty — you always felt that stinging stretch when he first entered you.

From then on, Robert focussed solely on his own pleasure; on ridding himself of that anxious need, trying to fuck his insecure feelings deep into your cunt prior to seeing Saito. He grunted, a string of breathless curses leaving his mouth with every harsh thrust, just snapping his hips against yours repeatedly and chasing his high.

Your face was pressed flat against the shoulder of his cashmere suit jacket, and you shut your eyes, letting Robert use you - use your hole, specifically. You’d asked him once why he didn’t just masturbate or use a sextoy, and he told you that nothing beats a hot, wet cunt.

It didn’t matter to him what the girl looked like or what she cost, as long as her pussy felt good. That’s how he hired you: you’d spent an entire month by his side, and before returning to America from his vacation in Sydney, he confessed he’d never taken a cunt as delicious as yours. He didn’t have time to date, but he did have time for a secretary.

That was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him, pleading for you to work under him, just so he could feel your plush pussy clenching around his cock once more. You’d never been a secretary before, but he promised you’d be taught, that the pay would be good, and that once he got married you could be whatever you wanted in the company - as long as, while you were still his secretary, you’d fuck him when he asked.

“Fuck,” Robert growled out near your ear, pounding mercilessly into your sopping cunt. Despite the selfishness of this quickie, him paying absolutely no mind to you, you couldn’t help how your mouth went ajar and your hips rutted into his.

Robert had the best dick you’d ever fucking felt, average length but girthy, stretching you wide open. That first time you’d fucked, the one night stand, he kept telling you how tight your cunt was around his thick cock, and the next time after that, he remarked how you were just as tight as before. He was impressed, it seemed, how after each round of splitting you open with his dick, you always seemed to tighten back up.

You bit your lip, fighting back any moans from leaving your mouth, and focussed on gripping your arms around Robert’s neck. You noted how one of his hands dug into you soft thighs, pulling you toward him and sliding in and out of you desperately, like he’d never fuck again, while his other hand came up to the crown of your head, petting you softly.

Though your mind was foggy with pleasure, you knew it was an out-of-character gesture: being gentle with you, acknowledging your presence rather than just your cunt. Robert wasn’t a romantic man - you didn’t think he knew how to romance someone, especially since his parents' marriage certainly wasn’t winning any awards for perfection.

So, just doing that had the gears in your mind turning. You’d fucked him for three years straight, and not for a moment did he ever do something like that.

But then, as you were building toward an orgasm, that familiar pull in your stomach sending heat over your body, begging to go faster, Robert came, jetting his creamy load deep within you — and you forgot all about his odd actions.

“Feel s’good,” he mumbled, fucking you still. You were unsure whether he meant his high or your cunt, but nonetheless, he came down from his orgasm by shoving his come deeper in your cunt with his length.

Then, “What - time is it?” he said breathlessly, quickly pulling his softening cock out of your pussy and turning away so as not to face you.

You blinked rapidly, leaning against the wall and trying to regain your composure, ignoring the grief swelling in your insides at the incompletion of your orgasm. “8– 8:10, sir.”

Robert hummed in acknowledgment, still not looking at you as he redressed himself. You took in your boss’s form, how quickly his attitude changed from desperate to stone cold after sex; after receiving what he needed, like a fucking transaction, and you suddenly felt shameful: this here was one of the most powerful men in the world, owner of Fischer Morrow, and there you were, his secretary and fucktoy he could replace at any time.

You weren’t special - you weren’t anything, especially not to him. If - no, when, he meets someone who pleasures him better, you’re out of a job. He said he’d help you when he got married, but you don’t think that’s happening anytime soon… and you know Robert: he’ll get tired of you, like the spoiled little kid he probably was, and will just find some other toy to play with.

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby, Mr. Fischer.” you informed him numbly after pulling up your panties and stockings, shakily stepping out of the walk-in closet. It wasn’t often you felt like this - this being pathetic and used, because on the surface, this job was perfection. Good pay, good reputation, a boss who fucks you - and fucks you good.

Sure, you could probably count on one hand how many times he made you come in these past three years, but it still felt nice, even if he never drove you past the edge. But, these days… you started wondering if this was the rest of your life.

You couldn’t get a boyfriend, no, not without lying to him about what you did for a living, and there was still that uncertainty in the stability of this job. Robert had deep parental and intimacy issues - as stated by his therapist, in which, after eight weeks of seeing him Robert left in a fitful, teary, suffocating rage - and, beneath his cold exterior, was a hotpot of bubbling emotions he never deigned to reveal until he was seconds away from blowing up.

In short: Robert was the most moody, unpredictable person you’d ever met, and working under him was like balancing on a tightrope. Because he never said what irritated him, always emotionlessly telling you to stop if he preferred you didn’t do something, you could never tell what was actually pushing all the wrong buttons.

Before waiting in his condo’s front lobby like you said, you ducked into one of his many bathrooms and wiped the warm come dripping down your leg, flushing as you saw the ruined state of your panties and stockings: his white load had smeared all over the fabric, and, while you could get most of it off your dark stockings, it stayed on your underwear.

You had to wear his come on your panties for the entire day, and in a way, it felt like Robert owned you.

That’s why… you had decided to quit. You wrote your two weeks three months ago and have been holding onto it ever since — because you didn’t know how to tell him you wanted to quit, especially since your heart didn’t want to.

Your head knew you were meant for more than secretarial duties and a quick fuck, but your heart ached for the lonely being that was Robert Fischer. That young CEO whose grievous relationship with his father was aired out in the newspaper, the man who went through succeeding the company as well as any young person could: fumbling, being crushed by the weight of his late father’s suffocating legacy, and the boy who didn’t know why he could never get his fathers love or approval.

The heart wants what it wants, but the head knows best. You resolved to hand him your resignation by the end of the day, listening to your head, and got ready to leave this part of your life behind; to leave Robert Fischer behind.

iii.

“What's this?” Robert asked in his office without looking up at you, gaze still trained on the papers he was signing. You had entered his office to deliver his mail and ask questions about various appointments - when best to schedule that lunch with his godfather, that kind of stuff.

And… to hand him your 2-weeks.

“It’s my 2-weeks, Mr. Fischer.”

“…What?” Robert set his weighted fountain pen down, looking up in disbelief.

“I’m resigning, sir.” You said gingerly, gaze trailing away from his own, ignoring how his expression went from neutral to crestfallen.

“I pay you well enough, I’m sure?” He said, sounding frantic and not doing the best job of hiding it with the shaky smile on his face.

“It’s not - about the pay. I’m just… I’m ready to do other things.”

There it was: you didn’t want to wait until he got tired of you and kicked you to the curb. This job was fucking comfortable, and that unnerved you. Working diligently, fucking him diligently, saving up money your younger self would’ve never thought could ever come your way - it was comfortable and you were used to it, but you just… couldn’t take it anymore.

You weren’t going anywhere like this. Not with Robert, not with your life, not with yourself. When you first took this job, you wanted to help him. Call it naive pity, but you thought the terribly mournful Robert Fischer could be fixed by getting fucked. God, your younger self had been out of her mind.

So, here you were, three years later and resigning from one of the wealthiest men in the world, heart begging you not to, head wanting to leave immediately.

Robert sighed, but nodded slightly. “Okay. Okay. I’ll send you your wages as soon as possible, and I can write a recommendation for your next—“

“There’s no need, Mr. Fischer,” you protested quietly. “My duties here weren’t exactly… just secretarial.”

Robert blanched, but agreed quietly. As you were about to leave, he spoke up. “Are you… free tonight?”

You tilted your head slightly, processing the topic change. “I have no plans for the evening, if that’s what you’re asking. I can come over after work—“

“No— no, not…” Robert grimaced, pressing two fingers between his eyes. “Proclus Global’s holding a charity gala. Tonight. Come with me; it’ll be your last event as my secretary.”

Your face warmed at your previous assumption he just wanted to fuck. “…Certainly, Mr. Fischer. There’s no need to ask, I’m obligated to agree.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to ruin any plans you have.” Robert’s lips pressed into a thin white line at your words. “If it - you don’t—“ He sighed, unable to say what he wanted properly, “You don’t have to say yes to everything I ask of you.”

“Work takes precedent, sir. You’re my boss - it’s only natural I follow orders.”

Then: “If that’s all,” you said, before promptly exiting his office, turning away and ignoring how crestfallen he looked.

It was normal for you to accompany him to various events, seeing as he was single, and you were his hot, young secretary — and it was an expected duty of yours after the first time you went with him.

You couldn’t figure out why his behavior had suddenly changed, why he’d become considerate— but perhaps it was because you were quitting. Although Robert’s emotional state was generally unpredictable, you supposed the professional part of him wanted to send you off nicely; have these last two weeks of yours not be soured.

Anyway, it seemed inviting Robert to the gala was what Saito was here for - and, presumably, to add some pressure onto Robert, since their companies were rivals. Robert was always… bothered, you could say, prior to seeing Saito.

The man made it a habit, consciously or unconsciously, to set Robert off, either by not-so-innocently referencing the late Maurice Fischer in their conversations, or by down right comparing Robert to him. It certainly wasn’t motivated by a personal grudge, no, Saito just wanted to see Fischer Morrow suffer, and for Proclus Global to rise. It was business politics, something you couldn’t - and didn’t want to - wrap your head around.

The only thing you had in mind now was if you’d dressed up well enough: you had a small collection of gowns that you’d gathered over the years attending events with Robert, but every time, he gave you his card and told you to pick out something nice. You guessed that he was the kind of man who preferred to always show up in something new, something better — and that translated to whoever was perched on his arm.

That, being you, who’d bought a black satin and lace dress with a slit on the left thigh. You knew what Robert usually wore to these occasions, so you dressed accordingly - and it was an accurate foretelling, to say the least. When you’d entered Robert’s condo, he was standing in the lobby, strapping a Tudor onto his left wrist. He was head to toe in black satin, just as you were, hair neatly coiffed against his forehead.

Your heels clacked loudly on the lobby tile, and he noticed your presence. “Black satin,” he scanned you up and down, “good.”

“Of course, Mr. Fischer.” You said politely, taking his arm when he lifted it up. The two of you headed to the car, and you didn’t miss how Robert opened the door for you first, like you really were his date for that night.

His behavior throughout that entire day had been downright weird, and even more so now, because if you really pressed Robert, he’d tell you you were just a piece of eye candy for his clients to ogle over, so they’d lower their guards; get distracted and forget to pry him for information regarding the company.

When you got to the event — which was taking place in a grand banquet hall in one of the many buildings Saito and his wife owned — a flock of people amassed, all greeting Robert and not-so-subtly alluding for him to head over to their table and discuss business matters.

There were also various clients and colleagues of Robert’s who’d come over to catch up with the young CEO, and many of them commented, as usual, about the plus-one by his side.

“And who’s this beautiful young lady?” One of the older men asked, raking his gaze all over you. It was clear as day: all of the men there were undressing you with their eyes.

You didn’t shy away, however, instead smiling thinly. “I’m Mr. Fischer’s secretary,” you told the group, tilting your head slightly and baring your canines. They could stare at you all they liked, but you weren’t interested in letting them know much more about you than your position.

It didn’t matter, anyway - finding out you were just his secretary made them see you differently. In whispered tones, they’d tell Robert they’d give anything to see you squirming beneath them, and he’d laugh a hollow laugh that didn’t reach his eyes and certainly didn’t come from the heart. To keep up appearances, buttering up his clients and letting them believe he was an easygoing guy, Robert would agree good-naturedly, but not without looking abashed, like he was too professional to actually ever breach that line.

Like his hand hadn’t disappeared from your arm, trailing across your backside and groping the soft fat of your ass, digging into you. Like you hadn’t stroked his cock in the car, gently pumping him with your spit-slicked hand.

You then broke away from Robert and the large group of businessmen to chase after a waiter who was holding a tray of champagne. In doing so you found out that Saito’s wife was, really, the main host of this charity ball when she, and several other women and wives of said business men, crowded around you, not unlike their husbands did to Robert.

You greeted them kindly, blandly replying to their invasive questions: no, I’m just Mr. Fischer’s secretary, no, he is not accepting marriage proposals, sure, I can set up a meeting between you and one of our energy advisors if you give Fischer Morrow a call tomorrow.

You let them talk circles over themselves, silently nodding, for Robert always reminded you to speak as little as possible. It would do no good for them to assume you and Robert were together — they’d tear you apart.

When the conversation drew its focus away from you entirely, you skittered away to find the waiter from earlier. An hour or two had passed since you’d arrived at the gala, and you indulged, letting yourself down a couple more glasses of that addictive drink. You were just about to grab one more, when you conveniently reunited with your boss and date for the night.

Robert looked peeved, perhaps something to do with how boisterously Saito was laughing across the hall, and in a moment of quick thinking, you pulled him closer to you. “Mr. Fischer,” you whispered, voice tranquil, “if all has been accomplished for the night, I suggest we take our leave.”

He looked up at you, oddly, like he was seeing you for the first time. “Yes,” he agreed quietly, “yes… you’re quite right.”

Without any goodbyes, the two of you swiftly hooked arms once more, and exited the building. The cool night air bristled around you, nipping at your skin, and Robert’s hands dropped from your arm, instead slipping into your own and keeping you close to him.

At the car, he opened the door for you again, helping you in gently, before sliding in on the opposite side. When you turned to face him, he absently brushed something out of your hair with his long, nimble fingers. “Dust,” he said simply, peering deep into your eyes.

You stared back at him, but your thoughts were elsewhere. He’d never toed the line like this before;

he’d never looked you in the eyes so much, held your hand, plucked something out of your hair or pet you or held you so close — out of the context of sex — that you could smell his cologne. He had never been so compassionate, so romantic, like this relationship of yours was organic and authentic, not transactional and emotionless.

The car ride back to his condo was quiet. His hand did not find yours again, not even to hungrily snake up your thigh and under your skirt — Robert was frozen, staring out the window and nowhere at all meeting your gaze.

Finally, when you got back to his place, you trailed after him — he trusted you to do what he asked and to do what you thought he needed, and that look of vexation he’d had before leaving only meant one thing to you: he was bothered, and a bothered boss does not mean good business.

When you’d both entered his bedroom, Robert stopped, and turned to face you. His hands found yours, tenderly slipping his fingers into your own and pulling you close to him, and you backtracked.

“Mr. Fischer?” You murmured, feeling how his rough skin brushed against you. “What are you… doing?” you questioned, your mind filled to the brim with the same question: what was Robert feeling right now? About you? For you?

He called your name out softly, like it was the only word he knew, shining blue eyes examining you intensely and flicking down to your lips every so often. “Don’t quit. I - I… need you.”

Your brows knitted - so it was about your resignation. “Mr. Fischer, you don’t need me, you… you need sex, you need someone to - to fuck you—“ You protested, wrenching yourself away from his grip.

“No! No. I don’t need you like that. I need you, not - not your fucking cunt, I - can’t live without you.” Robert’s hands pulled you back to him, holding you close like you’d crumble into ash if he didn’t.

Then, he kissed you, soft lips benevolently pressing into your own, long and deep like he was trying to melt into your touch. He was slow and chaste but there was a hint of desperation in his saliva, like he wanted to consume you, and you him.

You pulled back, alarmed, your chests rising and falling in sync. Robert had kissed you; he had crossed the line he vehemently set, the line he commanded be kept in place. You blinked, mouth opening and closing, unable to form words.

“Robert,” You said at last. Robert, not Mr. Fischer. Not Mr. Fischer, not now, not with how quickly his face had fallen from feverish to devastated. “you don’t think you love me, do you?”

Robert’s brows furrowed. “Think?” He repeated incredulously. “Do I think I love you— god, I… I do love you. I don’t think I love you, I know I’m in love with you.”

You looked at him dolefully, willing your heart not to beat out of your chest. “But why? I am certain you can’t answer that, Robert, because you don’t love me, you are - are merely feeling abandoned—“

“I love you because you know more about me than anyone in the entire world—“

“That is my job, Robert—“

“No, it’s not, and you fucking know it. You did more than I’ve ever asked of you: you know me, Robert, not Mr. Fischer, CEO of Fischer Morrow. You know me.” His finger dug into his chest, enunciating each point, and you couldn’t help the way his words swayed you - consciously or not.

In your silence, Robert continued. “And - and, I adore the way you think, how you laugh and how you see the world, how - how you understand people, people who’ve never had someone take the time to ever fucking do that. How you care. So - so… stay. Stay by my side.”

In the kiss, you two had found yourselves perched on his bed, and he looked at you, lips bitten between his teeth nervously. “Please,” he murmured, hand coming up to your cheek and meekly tracing shapes on your skin.

“…I can’t do this. Not with you. Robert, you - you don’t fuck a woman you say you love then pretend you didn’t.” You replied, shying away from his touch like he’d burnt you.

“I - I didn’t want to push that on you, not when - when we were…” he trailed off, hands leaving you and instead scrubbing his grimacing face.

“What, when I was your personal prostitute?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he said weakly, but didn’t protest. “I just… I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was just another part of the job.”

“Is it not?” You questioned, watching his expression change and flit through several emotions. “You’re telling me you love me, and you’re asking me to keep being your secretary. Robert, is this not just part of my job?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he pleaded. “It - you, can be more than that. You are the woman I worship and adore and - and will listen to, no matter what. So don’t leave.”

The words “me behind” did not come out of his mouth, but you felt it, like he etched it on your heart. Your eyes searched his own for even a semblance of fallacy — but it was so terribly real, truthful, that you felt a lump in the back of your throat form.

You pressed your forehead to his own, trying to digest this information: the reveal of his feelings… and the remembrance of your own.

His idealistic talk, his professions of love, his raw, long-suffering pleading made you remember the deep seated, stirring warmth in your heart that you’d beat to death all those years ago.

You remembered the fondness you’d felt for a melancholy man back in Sydney, the man with the demure demeanor, the charming words; the man who you spent a month with, the man who took you on sweet dates, who wormed his way into your life like he belonged there; the man who fucked you slowly and graciously and cherishingly; the man who, at the end, had to go back to America, to the life he never talked about; the man who you wanted to explore a forever relationship with, but had offered you a job instead.

“You love me?” you asked, vulnerability apparent in your tone.

“More than anything in the entire world.”

“Then kiss me.”

And Robert did, his hands sliding down your back to your waist, bringing you closed to him. This kiss was passionate, but patient and sheepish like you’d never kissed one another before. It was a sweet dance, all tongue and no teeth; curling around each other tenderly, desperately, like there was never going to be enough time in the world to express how you felt about each other, because you felt so infinitely.

Your fingers carded through his hair, tugging lightly on his feather-soft locks, and his movements grew eager, gripping your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly as I did you,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing hungry kisses on the delicate skin.

“I dreamed of this, in Sydney,” you told him, slipping off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt and dress pants, “I dreamed of forever together.”

He shrugged off the many articles of clothing, then began unzipping the back of your dress without looking, “I dream of us and forever without an end: you are my ever-present thought.”

You paused your movements, looking at him squarely - though not without allowing your dress to fall off your shoulders - and pulling him into another kiss. “How could I ever have been content with just fucking you,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, “when these are the things you say to me?”

Finally, the two of you were reverently tossing and turning on the bed, completely naked and completely feverish, not just in lust, but in dizzying adoration and love for the other. Then, he was on top of you, holding himself up by the arms. His leg slotted between your thighs, your soaking wetness practically dripping onto him, and he could’ve fallen apart right then and there if not for your arm digging into his left bicep kept him grounded in reality.

His hard cock rested against your thigh, and after a moment longer of watching eachother intently, memorizing each and every feature you both had, he spread your legs wide and pressed his fat tip plush against your clit, introducing himself slowly.

“Is this okay?” Robert asked, biting his lip and reveling in how good you took him, even if it was just the head.

You looked at him blearily, barely registering his question, mind already losing itself to the pleasure he was inflicting on your cunt; how, the slower he was with you, the easier it was to completely succumb.

“Yes, fuck,” you ground out, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking him in, his groans growing louder as he pushed the rest of his length in.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you blurted simultaneously to his various noises of pleasure, your fingernails digging deep crescent moon shapes into his back.

“Best cunt I ever fucking had,” he grunted, hands gripping the sheets beside your head for dear life. He stilled for a few moments, letting you get used to his whole length in you — yes, when he’d fucked you all those times before, he was so desperate to come he hadn’t bottomed out his entire length in you, which… had already filled you to the brim.

“M’gonna,” he shuddered, feeling your walls bear down on him suddenly, “gonna move now.”

You nodded breathlessly, arching into his touch as he set a steady pace. He would drive into you slowly, teasingly, almost torturously, before suddenly pulling out, then thrusting into you regularly for a few moments, and finally starting all over again. It would’ve made you mad, if not for how sweetly he was handling you: his hand stroking your forehead shyly, gaze flitting over you like you were the only thing left in the entire world.

Robert leaned down to your bare tits, brushing his wet tongue over your nipples, which had grown sensitive and erect. At his touch, you let out a small squeak, “Oh, Robert,” you keened, rutting your hips up into his own on instinct.

You could feel him smile against your skin, and then, he slipped one of your nipples into his warm mouth, suckling loudly and making you tremble. His tongue devouring your tits, his hips snapping into you, his hands caressing you gently; fuck, you realized, it was all too much, but still just enough.

The way Robert fucked you was absolute perfection, the way he ravished and pleasured your body was heavenly; divine. Sweet moans left your mouth as Robert’s pace grew more frenzied, your sticky cunt making a sick squelching noise whenever he pulled out. You were like a fucking suction; even your pussy knew how delicious Robert’s veiny cock was, and held onto him desperately.

“You’re so beautiful,” Robert sighed, pressing his face into the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Your are the only one for me— fuck— its you, and only you.”

Though your thoughts were growing foggier, only focussing on feeling pleasure, you still had it in you to beam at his words, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him into a close embrace.

“Faster, please, god, I adore you,” you said after letting go, a string of words barely coherent. Still, you thought that even if you’d not said anything at all, Robert would have understood, for he began sliding his cock in and out of you rapidly. His hands found themselves at your hips, and he began pushing you up into him as he slammed down into your cunt.

His thrusts drew breathy moans from your lips, and you could tell how swiftly it affected him, knowing his cock made you shudder and whine like that, writhing beneath him, because he commanded gently for you to: “Look at me,” he said, and you obliged, taking in those sweet, wet blue eyes, lashes fluttering as he blinked. He wanted to look at you, and he wanted you to look at him.

“I’m looking,” you responded, barely able to speak.

“Good,” he said breathily, “I wanna know what you look like when you come.” Then, his cock began pounding into you, not cautiously and delicately, like he had been earlier, but insatiably, unable to think of much else but making the woman he loves orgasm. You could count on one hand how many times Robert made you come, but it seemed that’d be the only thing he’d be thinking about for the foreseeable future: devoting his time to making the odds even.

His words made your insides twist, the knot in your abdomen growing larger; it turned you on much more than you thought it would, for the notion of him coming in you because he wanted to, because he wanted to fill you with his seed and mark you as his, not just because he wanted to release and didn’t have time to clean it up elsewhere. Suddenly, you found yourself knowing the difference between sex with kissing, and just sex.

You hadn’t realized how close you were, steadily building toward an orgasm when your brain has turned off thinking and let you melt completely into the ecstacy, and only really comprehended it when Robert mumbled, “Jesus, you’re so wet, taking me so well,” and his praise sent you off the deep end.

Honestly, you couldn’t describe how it felt. You could, however, do so in comparison to your previous orgasms with Robert. Usually, it would feel good, but like it ended too fast. You’d conveniently orgasm when Robert came in you, and he’d drive out his high in your cunt, then pull out immediately. If you’d had your way, you’d keep him thrusting until you couldn’t take it anymore, wanting to drag out your blissful orgasm as long as possible.

That’s what happened here. The heat that encompassed your body was unfamiliar, but damn well fucking delectable, making your body buck up uncontrollably into his cock. You were high on the pleasure, drunk on his length, and he knew this, still gliding in and out of you. Your climax was like entering a deep pool: it took you over completely, and was a little hard to come out of.

“S’good,” Robert mumbled, not unlike he did earlier that day, but you knew it was different. “Your face look s’fucking gorgeous,” he commented, mind growing fuzzy as he saw your expression change throughout your high.

Your hands found themselves back in his hair, and you tugged him slightly so you could whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Robert,” you spoke warmly, though still panting, “for loving me. For letting me love you.”

You swore you saw light tears well in his eyes, but you couldn’t be sure, because he cocked his head back, neck clenching and his mouth falling open as he released his cream deep into your cunt, flush against your cervix. He let out a low moan as he climaxed, thrusts still coming but considerably slower. It felt like he’d been coming forever when his arms gave out and he finally went limp, falling down beside you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” is what he said first, peering up at you and brushing an eyelash off your cheek. “I’d have loved you no matter what you did.”

Now you felt the waterworks coming. How was it, that through such a strained relationship and broken examples of intimacy, did Robert know how to be so sweet? Or was that just him, just how his thoughts came to him; was it just his instinct and nature that made him so darling?

Weakly, you slip your arms under his, combining the two of you in a sweaty embrace. The room smelt like come and sex, the lights impossibly bright and beaming down on the two of you uncomfortably, but you could deal with it— and everything, so long as you were with Robert.

“If only I knew sooner how cheesy you were, Mr. Fischer.”

“Well, you’ll have the rest of your life to keep finding out… Mrs. Fischer.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #inception #robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut

3K notes · View notes

corrupte3d-mindz · 8 months ago

Text

Sleepless Nights

Thomas Shelby x Pregnant Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas cares for his wife.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings:

soft Thomas!, kissing, soft talk, lovely husband things.

Thomas prowls the grand corridors of Arrow House with a mixture of determination and unease. The mansion is a labyrinth of opulence, each corner dripping with the wealth he’s fought tooth and nail to secure. Yet, tonight, none of that matters. His mind is solely focused on one thing—finding his pregnant wife.

The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomas’s polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.

As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomas’s eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.

Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. She’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. She’s wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.

“Love,” Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. “Y’alright there?” His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. “Tommy,” she replies, a small smile curving her lips. “Just needed a moment. The baby’s been restless tonight.”

Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. It’s a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “Worried me, y’know.”

She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.”

Thomas’s eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. “Y’should rest more, love. Don’t want you overexertin’ y’self.” His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.

She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much to do. So much to prepare for.”

Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle everythin’. You just focus on our little one, yeah?”

He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Tommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.”

Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."

He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."

He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."

She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.

His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’ve got to know,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, “I’d do anything for you. Anythin’ to keep you safe.” His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.

Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.

His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.

Thomas’s worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different – the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.

The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house – warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.

A soft chuckle escaped Thomas’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.

She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.

He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"

She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."

Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle."

He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Don’t try to be too strong on your own."

She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."

They both stood there looking at each other.

"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."

He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. I’ve got a meeting later, but I’ll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."

She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "I’d like that."

Author’s Notes:

Credit for the smol sparkle divider: CafeKitsune

683 notes · View notes

wonderlanddreamer · 6 months ago

Text

This gif is Tommy and Alfie before they even existed. 😂😂

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #inception #eames inception #robert fischer

492 notes · View notes

ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 5 months ago

Text

KINKTOBER 2024 - CILLIAN MURPHY EDITION

Hello! My 2024 Kinktober will include a range of filthy kinks. Every Monday and Wednesday will be a AU themed story to really challenge myself.

If you’re familiar with my work, none of these stories will be considered as healthy. For safe marking, all works will be either noncon/dubcon.

Comments and reblogs please are highly appreciated <3

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 1ST - Jackson Rippner + Blood

Red Is The Colour Of Jackson returns home covered in other men’s blood. He’s too impatient to shower first.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 2ND - Emmett in Red Riding Hood AU

All The Better You must deal with the consequences after leading the wolf into your grandmother’s cottage.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 3RD - Neil Lewis + Bondage

His Perfect Little Star When Neil's plan to win you back failed, he improvised to extreme measures to remind you who you belong to.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4TH - Jonathan Crane + Waxplay

Paint Your Skin You fall into Scarecrow's hands and are forced to play along with his games.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 5TH - Tommy Shelby + Shoe Kink

Squeaky Clean You cost Tommy a promising deal. He can think of a thousand ways to make you pay, so you'll start by dropping to his feet.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 6TH - Cillian Murphy in Professor AU

I Won’t Tell If You Won’t You're Professor Murphy's star student and play on his obvious obsession with you. But when he eavesdrops on a secret of yours, he has to mark you as his.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 7TH - Raymond Leon + Hate Fuck

Hate How Good You Feel After months of tracking his most stressful case, Raymond can't resist but to fuck you before he takes you in.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8TH - Robert Fichser + Mirror Sex

Look At You Robert likes to have you look at your-filthy-self whenever he takes you.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9TH - Mathew Joy in Little Mermaid AU!

Poor Unfortunate Soul You're fascinated by the human world and fall in love with a sailor from afar. When you save him, you're desperate to be united with him. A sea witch offers a proposition too good for your fairytale ending. If only you listened to how cruel the human world could be.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 10TH - William Killick + Cunnilingus

Watching Eyes William doesn’t like your ex, he secretly wants you to put on a show for him.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11TH - Robert Capa + Marking

Ignited You ignite Robert’s jealousy and he has to remind you that you’re still his.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12TH - Jonathan Breech + Sex Tape

Smile For The Camera Baby You lose a bet with Jonathan. He has to record the experience to ensure it'll happen again.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 13TH - Tommy Shelby in Regency AU

Warmth The Queen is not spared by the King's cruel nature. However she does get to feel his warmth.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 14TH - Jonathan Crane + Pet Play

Scaredy Cat You are Catwoman, you’ve heard word of Scarecrow’s fear toxin and want it for yourself. However he had already anticipated this and desired a kitten of his own.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15TH - Jim (TDS) + Caught Masterbating

Don’t Let Me Stop You You babysit Jim's kids, he happens to catch you going down on yourself in his living room.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 16TH - Jackson Rippner in Mr and Mrs Smith AU

Mr And Mrs Smith Rippner You live a double life, but you're willing to give it all up to devote yourself to your husband. With one final mission, you learn that your marriage is based on a lie.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 17TH - Tom Buckley + Mind Control

The Eyes Talk Tom is just convinced that you want to fuck him as badly as he wants to fuck you.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18TH - Lenny Miller + Body Worship

Home Sweet Home Lenny is skeptical over pursuing his neighbour, however that all changes when he drunkenly breaks into your apartment.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19TH - Emmett + Spit

Thristy? You're exhausted and Emmett just won't stop. He notices that you're thristy.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 20TH - Cillian!Victor von Doom in Marvel AU

Electric Storm Victor has great plans for you, that's why you're locked up in his home in Lavertia.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 21ST - Darren + 69

Me and You Forever Right as you're about to leave to start your new beginning, Pig has come to reunite with his Runt.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 22ND - Tom + Overstimulation

Pick The Latter You're given an ultimatum after Tom accuses you of cheating, be fucked endlessly or be left on the edge. You should have picked the latter.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 23RD - Jonathan Crane in Hogwarts AU

Terror Animus There is no one that you despise more than the arrogant Ravenclaw know-it-all who goes by the name Jonathan Crane. But his fascination with you is more dangerous than it seems.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 24TH - Tommy Shelby + Outdoor Sex

As Fast As You Can Your husband likes to play games to your marriage exciting. When you oppose against his wants, he thinks a game of predator and prey can soothe your dispute.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 25TH - Martin + Spanking

Put A Wife Back In Her Place When Martin’s attempt to win your heart back with a nostalgic trip on a secluded Scottish island fails, he has one last resort to remind you who’s wife you are.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 26TH - Mike Kieran + Somnophilia

Ignorance Was Bliss Mike makes love to you when you're dead asleep, because that's the only time you'll love him.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 27TH - Raymond Leon in ABO AU

My Little Omega You go into heat early and your Alpha is forced to come home to relieve you.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 28TH - Jim (28DL) + Dumbification

Dead In The Head You put yourself into a close call, Jim saves you and wonders how dumb you really are.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 29TH - Shivering Solider + Facial

Please Your Husband Your husband returns home distant, distraught and troubled. He questions your loyalty to him.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 30TH - Robert Fischer in Victorian Era AU

In Sickness & In Health You visit your sister who’s health is dropping, you find out a sickening truth from her husband.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31ST - Jonathan Crane & Jackson Rippner + Double Penetration

What's Yours Is Mine In college, the twin brothers shared everything and everyone. Until Jackson took it too far and drove Jonathan away. Years later, Jackson shows up with an apology gift, and what's a better gift than you?

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #smut #cillian x fem!reader #dark smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner #jonathan crane dark #jonathan crane x you #cillian murphy kinktober #cillian murphy masterlist #cillian x reader #cillian murphy characters #raymond leon #robert fischer #lenny miller #emmett a quiet place

357 notes · View notes

cherrycranes · 27 days ago

Text

The Arrangement (Robert Fischer x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Fem!Reader Summary: You're a flight attendant for billionaire heir Robert Fischer and you have quite an interesting arrangement with him... Word count: 3,692 Contents: (Minors DNI). Ass eating (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), spitting, cum eating, fetish, dominant Robert (but he’s not an asshole) Author's notes: Collabing again with my darling @fuckiingloser. We're back to our usual universal fem reader posting after those two beautiful christmas fics! This new fic has been awaiting for over a month now and I'm so glad to have it out. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. There's a pinterest board link at the end so you visualize this fic. Enjoy!

Your pristine, well manicured hands smoothened your short skirt out and adjusted your brand new tights to near perfection. Your eyes fixated on the reflection of your polishedness in search of anything uneven, undone or unflattering, finding a single issue with your hair that was easily fixed with a touch. One last coat of lipgloss and you were set. The confines of the plane bathroom were replaced by the big cabin of the private jet that you now knew like the palm of your hand. Aware of what was coming, you poured a flute of expensive champagne that would await very little for your very special guest.

Timely as ever, you heard his fine italian leather shoes coming up the steps. The first thing you saw was a very pleased smirk upon his plump lips. The second thing was his pale blue eyes that immediately raked over your uniform and then noted the complimentary champagne that you always welcomed him with.

“Hello, gorgeous...” That perfect million dollar smile of his would always make your knees feel weak and your body heat up, and that day wasn’t the exception. Slick arousal already dampened your pussy and he hadn’t even taken a seat yet.

“Hello, Mr. Fischer.” Your voice came out sweet, quite adoring. His eyes kept devouring your figure, parts of you tightly embraced by your special uniform that he requested you to wear for his flights.

“Looking perfect, as always.” The scent of his luxurious cologne caressed the tip of your nose as he leaned in to whisper to you, his voice already husky. One of his hands lightly touched your hip, unable to resist the temptations of what boiled between you.

For nearly a year, you had been his flight attendant. Nothing out of the ordinary for the first few months. Usual duties of a stewardess like pouring drinks, pre-flight checks, showing the safety exits and many more things you had prepared for, filled his constant flight schedule with you. It wasn’t until a few months of working for him and taking his subtle flirting rather well, when he decided to offer you an arrangement that you definitely did not study for but you were so willing to do…

Quite uncommon, a stewardess with benefits… Really good benefits you both enjoyed.

Fischer was a particular man, he knew exactly what he liked and wanted, and you fit that criteria perfectly. Your face, your eyes, your lips, your gorgeous body wearing that tiny mini skirt, high heels and a perfect pair of sheer tights. He couldn’t get enough of your thick soft thighs and round behind in the tight uniform he requested you to wear the moment the arrangement first started.

Carefully, you helped him take off his expensive suit coat and hung it up for him, exercising the same normality routine of two people who don’t fuck when the plane is on the air. Fischer took his usual seat, sipping on the champagne and checking all his messages and emails before shutting his phone off for the duration of the flight, playing the patient man who was not dying to touch you. In the meantime, you did your job: cross checked the doors, secured the baggage, listened to the pilots and their explanations of the weather conditions and the flight time. Once the captain and the co-pilot entered the cockpit, the flirtations were back on.

Your pantyhose clad legs caught his eye again when you strutted towards him with the calculated slowness of a hunter.

“Time to buckle up, Mr. Fischer… Safety first…” You purred, sensually bending over and giving him a good view of your cleavage. You buckled his seatbelt for him, just to have more excuses to touch him before take off. He groaned a little, gaze dipping in the inviting warmth of your cleavage and jumping right into your eyes when his belt was tightened.

“You look good enough to eat…” He husked, bringing a little smile to you.

“And I'm sure you will… After take off…” You reminded him, winking.

Understanding, he nodded. The plane started to move towards the runway. You sat down and buckled yourself into the seat across from him. Flaming blue eyes didn’t stop roaming over you the whole time, scorching your skin and tightening your cunt around nothing.

The plane turned onto the runway and gained speed before finally taking off, making your ascent into the sky. Complete, utter silence took over. Both altitude and tension increased between you in what seemed to be hours. The seatbelt light blinked off upon reaching cruising altitude, his smirk returned. It was “go” time.

He watched intently, the way your gentle hands unbuckled your seatbelt, how your knees flexed and unflexed beneath the sheer fabric when you stood up, the simple yet sensual touch against your skirt when you smoothed it out. When you turned around and bent over right in front of him to ”fix” your heel, he groaned. The tiny skirt rode up and left nothing to the imagination, and your lack of panties certainly did not help. Your bare pussy was perfectly visible beneath the pantyhose, the seams pressing gently against your wet folds.

“Fuck me…” He groaned, commanded almost. You stood up like you didn’t hear it, instead focusing on undoing his belt for him.

“You are free to move about the cabin, sir.” You purred through a cheeky little smirk, eyes on his lap tracing the shape of his hard on forming in his expensive dress pants. Quickly, his hands found your hips and his gaze met yours.

“Short flight today, doll… We better get to it.” His sensual raspy voice sent shivers down your spine and right to your cunt. Fischer didn’t wait for an answer he already knew you would say, right away he pulled you towards him so you straddled him and finally kissed him. Your tongue swirled together with his in a hot, wet mess. You moaned into his mouth and he devoured it. Big greedy hands squeezed both of your ass cheeks and you fed him another moan.

The taste of champagne, the smell of cologne, the feeling of his hands… Intoxicating as always. Capable of making your head reel and your body burn. Fischer bit your lower lip with a need impossible to hold back.

“I'm feeling a little hungry…” He whispered to the soft flesh of your lips, coaxing a smirk from you.

“Well, we can’t have that… Can we?… What would you like, sir?” You used that professional yet cutesy voice of yours that fed onto his fantasies, a game that kept him addicted and with his hands roaming up your thighs and pushing your skirt over your hips.

“I want you… Bent over that seat… Ass out for me, kitten..”

“Anything for you…” One of the things you liked the most about Fischer was just how direct he was. No bullshit, no guessing. When he wanted something, he said it. And, just like anything else in this world that was laid out for him to just take, you delivered.

You traveled the small distance from his lap to the seat in front of him, knees on the cushion and chest against the backrest. Arching sensually, you poked your ass out, showing him everything he wanted.

A sexy glance back at him allowed you to see something not everybody would ever see. Robert Fischer, the billionaire heir of a powerful corporate empire kneeling in front of you like a peasant before his God, his beautiful face right in front of your ass. He moaned at the sight, sheer black fabric barely covering your bare pussy and asshole.

“Mmm, there she is…” He groaned in pure delight, a tentative thumb slowly pushed between your folds over the tights and rubbed you so tortuously slow.

“Someone’s wet…” He cooed to you, your arousal dampening your tights and his fingertip too. “All for me...” He loved this, he needed this. You, in tights, nothing else beneath. The exact materialization of nearly every fantasy he had involving his fetish.

With reverence, he leaned in to kiss your pussy over the thin tights, his lungs filling with the mouthwatering scent. Nothing was enough for either of you, no matter the passage of time and the frequency of your encounters. Your heart still beat as hard as the first time, your cunt was just as wet. Robert still was just as starving.

With a loud cry, the intricate seams of your tights gave out to the force of Fischer’s hands, ripping open for him and granting him full undeniable access. A soft gasp escaped from your lips, both holes presented to him.

“Mmm, that’s more like it…” He groaned hungrily.

With the shortness of the flight in mind, he dived in. You could only moan at the greedy feeling of his hot tongue parting your slippery folds and his firm hands spreading your asscheeks even farther, making a perfect burial site for his gorgeous face. His tongue worked you and slided in so needily, almost making out with your dripping cunt. Your inner whore came out in that instant, making the nastiest, prettiest sounds for him.

Humming in approval against the sensitive flesh, he devoured every inch of you, nearly animalistic and completely starved. His tongue flicked skillfully in all the right ways, over and over, swallowing your arousal straight from its sweet source. Quickly, he lowered his head, going from your entrance and never breaking the licking path until his tongue was at your clit, swiping it and painting it with his spit before sucking on it with a calculated gentleness. You saw stars.

His needy tongue fucked your sweet little cunt more and more, to alternate, his plump lips sucked at your clit, harder and harder each time until the desperation for air pulled him back.

“Fuck…” He groaned, sucking some air into his lungs. “Your cunt tastes like heaven... You know that?” With his voice husky, he returned to your beautiful flesh, making it impossible for you to even form a coherent sentence. Desperately, you moaned in response.

Back to you, he licked a few fat stripes from your needy clit all the way over to your ass, a hum of delight and pure addiction making your sensitive skin vibrate. Fischer was enamoured with your cunt, that was true, but your ass had him completely chained forever.

“Now, for my real treat… This perfect little asshole… I swear you’ve got the tightest, sweetest ass…” He praised it directly, prepared to show it just how sincere his words were. Flattening his tongue against your puckered hole, he sucked it a little, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet.

“Oh, fuck…” You breathed out in a whiny moan for him and his flicking, hardworking tongue that was making its way in.

“Open up for me, pretty girl…” And how could you not? He purred onto your skin and you moaned a sweet sound that he couldn’t get enough of. He was determined, his tongue licked your ass open, again and again, deeper and deeper, all for him to have a taste.

Lost in the feeling, you reached back, finding the softness of his brown hair and gripping it gently. He moaned needily when his face was pushed against you harder, deeper in the sweetness of your ass. A complete utter heaven for him.

Aroused and lubricated, your ass relaxed, his tongue slided in a little deeper. In between fluttering eyelashes you could only see the color of the expensive plane seat leather your face was pressed upon, the only sounds your ears could perceive were the filthy smacks of his saliva as his swirling tongue rimmed you. He had taken you to the same heaven you had sent him to and all you could do now was whine loudly.

“So fucking good…” Three words and your supply of air was gone, he hummed in a satisfied response, not planning for a second to take his hungry tongue out of you to talk. Pulling back, he planted nice, wet kisses on your ass, then slipped back in, swirling all over your asshole and moaning.

You had never let anyone eat your ass before, but now, after months of it, the desire had grown and rooted deep inside you, craving it just as much as he did.

His talented tongue slipped inside you again, praises of how much he loved your taste and how tight and perfect your ass was overflowing his mouth. Incredible to think about, one of the richest men in the country and the most elegant bachelor billionaire had an obsession with you and your ass.

Tongue fucking you a bit more, he then stopped, finally puling away with a serious need for air in his burning lungs. Your gazes met from over your shoulder, your form shaky and well opened.

“If i keep eating that tasty ass, I’m gonna come in my fucking pants…” He confessed with a cheeky smirk, catching his breath.

“Let me finish you off with my mouth… Can’t let all that cum go to waste…” You purred so sensually, you could see the glint in his eyes forming. Right away, Fischer moved back to his seat and got rid of his expensive belt, his rock hard, aching cock pulled out from his pants and ready for you.

Carefully, you slided off your seat down to your hands and knees, crawling to him like the animal in heat you were, with those eyes that begged him to let you have a taste. His blue irises stayed glued to you through his motions of spitting in his hand and pumping himself slowly, not missing a single movement you made.

“You know what I love about you, doll?” He asked, watching you settle on your knees between his parted legs.

You looked up, hands on his thighs rubbing slowly and patiently waiting for your turn with his cock. He touched himself lazily, speaking again.

“You’re the perfect slut just for me…” He growled, blunt but very true. You were, and you loved every minute of it.

With his free hand, he reached up to grab your chin.

“Open up…” He purred, you obeyed, sticking your tongue out for his leaning form. Your eyelashes fluttered when a trickle of his warm spit fell on your tongue, you immediately swallowed gladly.

Smirking, Fischer sat back with his hands behind his head and his eyes looking from you to his twitching cock, shamelessly unsubtle. You scooted closer to him, leaning in and swirling your tongue over his tip, recreating the motions had just done to you ass. Salty precum filled your tastebuds and he sighed out in perfect relief.

Through your eyelashes, you caught a glimpse of the pleasure etched onto his refined features, his mouth hanging open and his chest rising and falling fast, his rosy lips wetted with a lick. Fischer’s head fell back onto the seat with a moan, your mouth welcomed him happily.

You bobbed your head on him, your tongue exploring the texture of the underside of his shaft.

“Fuuuck.” He groaned deeply, his hand coming to rest on the back of your hand, his fingers tangling in your hair. You sucked his cock masterfully, guided by him firmly but not forcefully.

You worked your way down to his cock, servicing him well, aware of his need of being pleased and your need to please. He loved it, every bit of your sinful warm mouth and your perfect throat that allowed him inch by inch. You didn’t notice when your nose started to tickle his well groomed pubes, or when his leaking tip was hitting the depths of your throat. A needy, spoiled groan came from him, urging you on.

Eventually, you pulled back, the tip becoming the target for your mouth and his eyes the target for your own. In a rather tender but still greedy motion, his hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, loosened up somewhere along your service. No obstacle should block him away from seeing you taking him in.

“You look so pretty sucking my cock… You always look so fucking pretty.” He breathed out, lost in you already. If you hadn't been so busy blowing him, you would have smiled and blushed. But you had a mission to complete. By the looks of it, he was not lasting long, his breathing was ragged and his gaze was softened into two pools of begging blue. You pulled your mouth off him, allowing your hand to help you out with the shaft while your tongue took over his leaking slit.

Fischer moaned loudly through a little satisfied smirk. The tip of your warm tongue dragged from the head down his veiny shaft, taking you to his balls. With care, you sucked one into your mouth, causing his breath to hitch.

“Jesus Christ…” He groaned, no more cocky smirks. His eyelids hung heavy just like his jaw did, but even in this state he couldn’t stop watching you.

Your hand pumped him, your mouth sucked on his balls, switching from one to another when the time felt right. And right it was, you could have killed him.

“F-fuck… I’m not gonna last…” He nearly whined, with mercy and a loud wet pop, you let one of his balls out of your mouth, but your hand was still wrapped around his cock, rubbing it so thoroughly.

“Come for me, baby…” You cooed, his vulnerability allowing this sweetness back. You smiled, adoring the noticeable fuss that took over his brain from your words and your actions. He was tip-toeing on the edge of an abyss and all you had to do was give him one last push.

He nodded after he managed to process everything fully, his lust-clouded mind not allowing for much more as his answer was just a set of little groans. Any moment now.

You stuck your tongue out, your warmth looming over his sensitive tip as you jerked him off, your hand pumping faster and bringing his cock to you so you could tap it with your tongue.

And that’s what did it for billionaire heir Robert Fischer. His cock pulsed in your grasp, the ever so powerful man nothing but a mush of desire in the palm of your hand.

“Oh shit- fuck me- I’m coming…” He stuttered with a pounding heart, gripping the arm of the leather seat for dear life and flexing his thighs. Your hand moved faster and pulled his needed orgasm out of him.

A rope of hot cum landed on your tongue, your hand slowed around his twitching cock, milking him for all he has right onto your awaiting mouth. He watched in awe and need, embedding the feeling to his memory.

When he finished, you pulled back, sitting back on your heels and proudly showing him your cum covered mouth, swallowing it for his viewing pleasure. There was that million dollar grin again.

“That's my girl…” Through his husky voice, there was pride in it. You put his tired cock back into his briefs like it was another part of the in flight procedure.

“Anything for you…” You spoke sensually, winking at him before getting up on your knees. By this point, the routine was well practiced: you headed to the plane bathroom to change into a new pair of tights —which you kept in stock for obvious reasons—, fixed your uniform and hair in the mirror and resumed all the activities of a normal, non-fucked stewardess before you landed.

Fischer fixed himself too, zipping up his trousers and buckling his belt. After a few minutes the pilots made their expected announcement, you were close to the airport and had to prepare to land. You sauntered over to him, buckling his seatbelt on one last time with a playful wink before taking the seat across from him and strapping in.

Quiet again, you let the pilots do their thing. Your descent and land on the runway with him was never awkward. Just… Routinary. As the wheels touched down and the plane slowly rolled to a stop, you got up, gathering his belongings first then getting his coat out for him.

Then, you grabbed your bag, getting ready to head to your hotel for the week until you had to fly home again next saturday. Fischer got up, the expected envelope with cash in hand for your flight payment and extra perks.

You took in the beautiful blue of his eyes again as you accepted it, the gentle touch of his hand found your hip.

“Service was impeccable today, doll…” he started, making you smirk. Before you could thank him, a proposal left those rosy lips of his.

“Why don’t you come to mine and stay with me this week?” Your heart skipped a beat. “I've got a beautiful home in the mountains… More than enough room for the two of us… Better than any hotel…” his beautiful smile was on, his hand now caressed your cheek and fed the butterflies in your stomach.

Never, in the year you had been working for him, had he ever offered something like that. Flirtations with him and your physical relationship only existed while up in the air. But there was always something more, something that was meant to persist on the solid land.

“What do you say, doll?” Fischer cooed. “You and me… A relaxing vacation, a couple nice bottles of wine tonight? In my hot tub?” his hand still cupped your cheek. The look of his eyes was wishful, completely aware that something like that, somebody like you, was so unique he had to take the chance.

Inside, you argued with yourself. The idea tempted you but the fact that he was technically your boss tried to hold you back. He was only a handful years older than you, and yes, you had broken the ethical and traditional employer/employee relationship quite a long time ago... Before your mind could come up with more arguments, you went along with your heart.

“I’d love to…” You said back with no hesitation.

Pinterest board so you can visualize this fic!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #fanfic #robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #robert fischer fic #robert fischer fanfic

196 notes · View notes

staiyn · 18 days ago

Text

cards against Cillian

Been working on this for a while, because I was so busy the last few months. I thought about doing this, just because the game is standing around in my home, so why not try this out. Just let me know if yall like it and if I should continue that

162 notes · View notes

cilly-murphy · 1 year ago

Text

CILLIAN MURPHY as ROBERT FISCHER INCEPTION (2010) dir. Christopher Nolan

1K notes · View notes

forsythelizabeth · 8 months ago

Text

cillian murphy as robert fischer in inception (2010)

#my edit #gif #cillian murphy #inception #robert fischer #christopher nolan #pretty boy #i need him so bad

387 notes · View notes

august-diehl · 1 year ago

Text

CILLIAN MURPHY as Robert Fischer in Inception (2010) | dir. Christopher Nolan

1K notes · View notes

viesanterieures · 11 months ago

Text

love the fact that chris nolan gave the inception script to cillian murphy and told him that he could choose any role and cillian was like "lemme play that spoiled little cunty son of the millionaire 😩"

#cillian murphy #robert fischer #cillian #oppenheimer #christopher nolan #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #inception

1K notes · View notes

vervainandspritz · 3 months ago

Text

DANCE WITH ME, SHELBY

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, Tommy is a silly goose, blood, injury

INTERACT WITH THE STORY PLEASE

***

How could it get that bad? That one sentence filled his head to the brim, causing a hellish headache. Staring at the ceiling in the small room in the back of the building, just a wall separating the frustrated man from the chaos in the Garrison. Blue eyes, usually sharp and focused, now glancing all around, internally looking for that one moment where he pushed her too far.

A race of thoughts caused an annoying gnawing at his insides, going back to all the situations he could have used to… speak up, but he didn't. His foolish ego wouldn't let him live that down.

The music was so loud he could hardly analyse, but he successfully brought in the sight of Y/N dancing in a Peaky boys’ arms.

If only he didn't ruin it back then, Thomas groaned. Running a hand through his hair, he set the cap on a table before returning to the main room.

Straightening his back and looking around, Tommy noticed his brothers dancing between all the drunk people, cheering happily and laughing obnoxiously, just like they always did when there was a reason to celebrate.

The Garrison wasn’t normally a place for song and dance, but after the victory at the races, Thomas made an exception for his men.

Winning races was a big thing in Birmingham, no matter whether the races were fixed or not. Nobody would dare to ask anyway.

Among other people sitting by the bar, he spotted her. The woman so unforgettable, that there wouldn't be a day when he wouldn't think of her.

The sound of the door slamming shut went unnoticed by the loud crowd as he made his way to the bar. Several chairs away from Y/n Thomas took his seat, letting out a quiet sigh as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey that Harry instinctively set on the counter in front of him. Pouring a generous amount he nodded towards Y/n, and the bartender immediately got the right idea, pouring her a glass as well.

Tommy planned on watching her reaction closely, but to his surprise she knocked it back without missing a beat, making him raise his eyebrows.

Harry nodded proudly seeing the same scene unfold, before turning around and serving other people.

Usually at least a couple of guests would line up to him by then, but Thomas’ horrendous mood was hanging in the air like a thundercloud, warning off anyone who would think of coming around. Taking advantage of the relative solitude he let his mind spiral down the familiar way.. again.

“What happened!” Polly gasped, slamming the door shut behind her, seeing Thomas and Y/n make their way through the small living room. Blood dripped from the boy's nose, bloodying the already dirty carpet.

“I'll explain, I promise!” Y/N yelled from the bathroom before another slam of the door could be heard. Sitting him on the stool, Y/n tried to breathe steadily just to not start sobbing again. Her knees burned like hell, but she couldn't live down the way Tommy's face looked.

“I'm sorry” she said, shaking her head while reaching for a towel, and dipping it into the small amount of alcohol she had. Her hands were shaking, and so was her voice.

“Y/n” he said, but when she didn't react, his hand grasped her smaller one, holding it for a moment until she looked into his eyes. “It's okay, nothing big happened.” He tried to convince, smiling in a silly way despite his bloodied nose and a black eye. “C’mere” Tommy added after she shook her head, pulling her in for a tight hug. “It's okay, I'm fine, I promise. I didn't want them to hurt you, and I succeeded, like a man, yeah?” His voice soothed her slowly, just like his hand rubbing up and down her back. After a long minute she pulled back, nodding lightly as she held his head, cleaning up the cuts.

Tommy didn't say a word for another few minutes, just watching her face as she worked her magic until her cheeks turned bright pink. Clearing his throat, he finally spoke up.

“I'll be ugly for a while now.” Was enough to make her chuckle, and like always, Tommy's laugh followed right after.

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving me and… and being so fearless.” Y/n added shyly, not used to them saying all these nice things to each other.

Thomas shook his head with a breathless chuckle, before looking down.

“I wasn't fearless,” he confessed, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise. “After all, have you seen them? And me? I'm… short.” He chuckled and she immediately followed. “But I couldn't let them hurt you, no matter what.”

“You're not short! You're taller than me!” she argued with her cheeks all red.

“You're a girl, Y/N.” He pointed out, grabbing her hips as she started giggling some more, the gauze on his face shaking along with her arm. A comfortable silence fell between them for a couple moments, before he got up, standing right in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas ran a hand through his hair.

“Will you kiss me for bravery or am I too ugly for it now?” he asked, trying to appear even more confident with a smile still plastered onto his face, ready for a rejection… that never happened. Y/n nodded at him with a smile as she reached for his cheeks, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss.

“Take me on a date. To the cinema. Tomorrow.” She decided as soon as they parted, looking at him with big, round eyes and Tommy couldn't help but nod, with his face completely red.

“Okay”

After another two glasses sent her way, Thomas chuckled under his breath, eyeing the glass in his hand, when suddenly another hand pulled it out of his grasp. As fast as it disappeared, a feminine hand slammed an empty glass on the counter.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Shelby?” Y/N asked, coming into his view as she leaned on the counter, eyeing him with a serious expression.

“You were drunk before I stepped foot into the Garrison, eh?” he replied, turning around and facing her fully.

“Hardly” she said, tilting her head to the side as she noticed his hardened expression. “What's got you so down, boss? I thought we're celebrating tonight.” Y/N asked half seriously, gesturing to Harry for another bottle.

“Business as always” he responded, lighting a cigarette and offering her one. She only shook her head, leaning forward and pulling the cigarette out of his lips instead. Tommy kept looking at her, not caring enough to light another one. Just drinking in the sight of her eyeing him like that.

Only after a moment he looked away, glancing into the crowd with a barely audible sigh. Y/n knew him long enough to be able to tell how troubled he was feeling at the moment.

“Come on, Shelby.” She said, swiftly slipping off the counter and grabbing his hand. “You're gonna dance with me” Tommy immediately started shaking his head but didn't let go of her hand even for a moment.

“I don't dance, Love.” He replied in a hoarse voice, but Y/n wouldn't take a “no” for an answer when it came to dancing. Tommy somewhat reluctantly stood and let Y/N lead him to the dancefloor. The music was an energetic tempo leaving little to no space on the dancefloor between dancing, drunk people. Y/n led him through the crowd right into the middle of chaos, to ensure he wouldn't leave at any given moment.

By the time they weaved through the crowd, the celebratory song ended and the musicians played a sweeter slow song.

Hearing it, Tommy looked at her with eyebrows raised, making her giggle.

“Too late to change your mind now. Embrace me, Shelby.” She said sternly, in a joking manner.

Thomas didn't need much more convincing, the thought of getting to hold her was enough of an incentive. Stepping forward, Tommy pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her hip, keeping some distance between them for her comfort. She, however, closed the distance between them. Their bodies pressed together, moving in the rhythm. It came much more naturally than either of them would expect. As the music got more sensual, their senses became sharper. His big calloused hands kept her in a firm hold, leading her through the dance just right. Tommy felt suddenly a little more drunk than ever, taking in consideration that he had just two glasses of whiskey. The scent of her skin, her hair, the sweet flowery notes clinging to her skin made him want to get even closer. Closer than physically possible. Forget the alcohol, it was her he was truly intoxicated by.

Y/n could feel how heavy his breathing got, as he slowly let go of her hand, both hands wrapping around her hips and keeping her close. She leaned forward, both hands on Tommy's chest which made her feel even more… dizzy. His heart was beating even harder than hers. That was until he stepped forward again, and her face almost settled in his neck. The best part of the song came on, and the tension between them was palpable. Their breaths grew shallow and Thomas felt like he might explode if she didn't look him in the eyes just then.

Pulling back, he leaned down causing his nose to brush against hers, and as soon as Tommy's warm breath touched her lips, the song suddenly ended.

So did the moment, because Y/N immediately sobered, taking a step back and letting go of his touch.

Thomas could see the slightly panicked look in her eyes.

“Y/N” he started out, shaking his head lightly but she took another step back.

“Thanks for the dance, Shelby.” She replied, before turning around and pushing her way through the crowd towards the exit.

“Bloody hell” He hissed under his breath, trying to follow her as quickly as possible. It took him a longer moment, but Thomas finally burst through the door, immediately looking around and finding Y/N walking towards Small Heath.

“Y/N!” He yelled, going after her. For some reason it felt like an important moment which Tommy couldn't afford to fuck up. “Y/N, wait!”

Y/N kept walking, not paying attention to his shouting. Had he taken it too far with their almost kiss? She had kept drawing nearer to him throughout the dance, because the pull was impossibly strong, yet she couldn't bring herself to move past… that.

“Y/N!” He yelled, being mere metres away before finally a strong hand grasped her shoulder, making her turn around. He prepared a few words to say, but all of them disappeared from his head as soon as he saw her teary eyes.

“Why? Why didn't you come back then? I waited for you, Tommy, and you didn't show up.” She immediately said in a vulnerable voice, unable to keep it in any longer. “I was preparing for three hours to look pretty for you!” She was taking short breaks to sniffle quietly, and he tried to find words, but as always in such situations, it was difficult. Y/N had held onto the heartbreak of being stood up by him for years. The only man she could never hold at arm's length, making her feel so foolish. As he tried to stutter out an explanation, “and… and I..” Y/n started out, but got suddenly cut off by his voice.

“He took my fucking money!” He hissed out, pacing back and forth. Sighing deeply, he ran a hand through his hair while Y/N got… confused.

“What? Who?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed. Only then did he stop right in front of her.

“Finn” He replied, looking into her eyes with his own eyes wide. “Back then… fuck, I was saving for that moment, alright? Times were fucking tough and… and I wanted to go!” He said loudly, rubbing the side of his jaw with frustration. “But this little bastard didn't leave me a single fucking penny! Took all the money and I couldn't show up in my old, worn down clothes and then… not take you anywhere! Not YOU, Y/N! Fuck!” He gave up on trying to talk calmly, the old frustration and annoyance coming back to the surface. “..and then, then you left Birmingham for a while, and i had no fucking clue how to come back from what happened. What to do or say. I was… I was ashamed.”

Y/N remained silent for what felt like eternity which was probably less than a minute. Thomas sighed deeply, bracing for harsh words as he came up, grabbing her chin and tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

“I'm sorry, Love.” He added, when suddenly… she burst out giggling, making him cock an eyebrow in surprise. Only then did she manage to reply between the sniffles and giggles.

“You're an incredibly silly man for a gang leader, Thomas.” She started out, and then.. he knew it would be okay. “If you came wearing a bloody potato sack and wanted to sit under a tree and talk, I would be the happiest girl in the fucking world!” She exclaimed loudly, pushing him lightly. “I never cared about what you wore or where we went, bloody hell, I was following you everywhere! Because I wanted to be around YOU, and that's all that mattered, Tommy.” Her hand covered his much bigger one, eyes becoming more shiny as she spotted the little grin on his face.

“I panicked. I can't explain how sorry I am, Love.” He added, his hand caressing her cheek while his softened gaze remained on her eyes. “I thought about you every single day. Not a thing ever changed for me.” He confessed with a heavy heart.

Y/n became quiet for a moment again before her fingers grazed his reddened, cold cheek.

“You look like you've seen a ghost.” She eventually said, making him chuckle as she pushed his hair away from his eyes.

Thomas took a final step forward, his face mere inches away from her own.

“Well… am I too ugly for a kiss then?”

“Shut up, Shelby.” She sneered, pulling him into a deep but sweet kiss. One she waited for so long, too long.

222 notes · View notes