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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 2 years ago

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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

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corrupte3d-mindz · 9 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

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slut4thebroken · 5 months ago

Text

Locktober

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x reader

Summary | It’s day 11 of Locktober and you got Robert a ‘present’…

Warnings | Smut, chastity, prostate milking, orgasm denial?, praise, he’s whiny obviously, humiliation, mommy kink obviously.

Words | 2k

Notes | I can’t stop writing sub Robert lol. Also sorry if this is bad💀 I’ve never written this before lmao

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 11: prostate milking + chastity

“I have a surprise for you, angel.” You called out, walking into the living room with a small paper bag in your hand.

“What is it?” He asked curiously, closing his laptop without hesitation and putting it on the coffee table. You sat down next to him on the couch and placed the bag on the floor, then pulled him into you. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on your chest, making you smile.

“How has Locktober been treating you so far?” You asked innocently, but couldn’t hide your smirk.

“Wanna come…” He whined, nuzzling into your cleavage a little.

“I’m sure I can make that happen, sweetheart.” You chuckled, already planning what to do with him. “Can you pull your pants down for me, love?” You asked, still holding him. Since it was his day off and he didn’t have any plans, he was wearing sweatpants, so he quickly pushed them and his underwear down to his thighs. “Oh… look at you.” You cooed, reaching over to trail your finger down the cage with a small smirk. When you cupped his balls, his breath caught in his throat and he hugged you tighter. They just looked so big and swollen— so full of come… “I think you deserve your present now, baby.”

He whined when you got down on your knees, but that protest ended the second he saw you take off your necklace that had the small key on it. He was frozen in anticipation, not wanting to accidentally say or do anything to make you change your mind. You unlocked the cage and slowly pulled it off, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re really gonna let me come?” He asked timidly, worried it was a trick.

“Of course, baby.” You removed the ring that was around his cock and balls, then reached for the paper bag, not wanting him to have a chance to get hard so he’d actually fit in his new ‘gift.’ When you pulled out a new, smaller cage, his expression fell and you almost felt bad for him.

“But…” He whimpered. You ignored him and put his balls and then his cock through the ring. Then you started trying to fit his cock in the smaller cage. “Mommy..” He whined pathetically, squirming a little.

“Quit it. Or I’ll make you wear it through all of ‘No Nut November’ too.” You warned, making him frown.

It took a little while for you to be able to squeeze his cock down enough to lock it, but once it was on, you placed the new key on your necklace and secured it around your neck again.

“How does that feel, baby?”

“Small..” He muttered, very obviously sulking.

“Keep up the attitude and I’ll change my mind about making you come.” You said menacingly, but he just pouted.

“I can’t come in this.” He scoffed quietly, making you immediately smirk.

“No?” You asked rhetorically, a devilish grin gracing your lips. “Let’s find out then. Up.” You commanded, getting to your feet as he joined you. Without another word, you walked off toward the bedroom, trusting that he was following you. “Clothes off. Face down, ass up on the bed.” You ordered. While he undressed, you grabbed lube and a hand towel, then made your way back over to him.

“Do I really have to wear this for the rest of the month?” He frowned, staying in position, but turning his head to look back at you as you settled on the bed behind him.

“Of course not. You have to wear it until I decide you can take it off.” You said plainly, giving him a teasing smile. You laid out the towel between his legs on the bed, already knowing how messy this would probably be— it’s already 11 days into Locktober and Robert hasn’t had a single orgasm since you put the cage on him, so you knew he had a lot of come built up.

“Ready?” In response, he whined and jutted his hips back, making you chuckle quietly, “Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” As far as you know, Robert hasn’t ever been with someone who’s dominated him the way that you do… He probably still thinks he’s getting an actual orgasm.

“Please.” He whined, arching his back even more and pushing his hips closer to you. Rolling your eyes, you circled a lubed finger around his rim, then pushed in slowly. He whimpered into the bed and you placed a hand on his hip, trying to comfort him.

“That feel good, baby?” You cooed, making him mewl and nod wordlessly. You pushed a second finger inside and didn’t bother fingering him the way you normally would to open him up. Instead, you immediately zeroed in on his prostate and started rubbing slow circles over it.

“F-Fuck, I…” He choked out, body twitching, unconsciously trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure. You shushed him quietly and continued the slow, steady pace with your fingers. “Oh god…” He sobbed. His legs were trembling and he couldn’t hold back his sounds so he kept his face buried in the sheets to muffle them. A few drops of precum were already starting to leak from his cock onto the towel.

“Let go, angel.” You urged gently. His breathing picked up and he was pushing his hips back, trying to fuck himself on your fingers, despite already feeling overwhelmed with the sensations.

“Mommy,” he whimpered pathetically.

“I know, baby. Just let go— I’ve got you.” You cooed. Almost as if on command, the milky liquid started dribbling out of his cock, landing onto the towel below. “Oh, good boy…” You moaned, using your thumb to add extra pressure on his perineum, causing him to cry out.

“It hurts..” He sobbed, making you smirk. You knew that getting turned on while his cock was physically unable to become erect would be uncomfortable, probably even a little painful… That’s why you liked it so much.

“I know, angel, but you’re doing so good.” He wasn’t actually coming, that much was obvious just based on how tortured and desperate his sounds were. But this would hopefully alleviate the ache that had steadily built up after not coming for so long.

You pushed a third finger in and applied even more pressure, forcing an anguished moan from him. His cock was still leaking and you regretted not getting a bowl or something because, with how much he had already ‘come,’ the towel was pretty much useless now.

“You know… I didn’t have to help you. I could’ve left you aching and full of come.” You said suggestively, hinting at what you wanted from him.

“T-Thank you.” He whimpered.

“What was that?”

“Thank you,” he cried out when you landed a sharp smack on his ass and quickly corrected himself, “Thank you, mommy!”

“For?”

“For helping me..” He whined, no doubt blushing furiously. You chuckled, savoring how pathetic he looked and sounded.

“This must be so embarrassing for you, isn’t it?” You mused, making him whine. “Having your cock locked up… needing mommy to drain your balls just to give you a tiny bit of relief…” He let out a choked sob and you smirked, satisfied that you were furthering his humiliation.

“Mommy…” He cried weakly, flinching away from the relentless assault on his prostate as his release continued pouring out of his cock in a steady stream, landing on the soaked dowel.

“C’mon, give me a little more and you can be done.” You urged gently. He whined and shook his head, trying to protest, but his leaking cock gave him away— There was still more and you were going to milk every last drop out of him. “You should see yourself, baby.” You chuckled quietly, making him whine again. “Your poor balls look so swollen… Do they still hurt?” You cooed mockingly.

“Yes, but… not as much.” He whimpered.

“See? I told you I would help you, angel.”

“Wanna come..” His voice was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him.

“What are you talking about? I’m milking all the come out of you right now.” You said coyly, unable to hold back a smirk.

“Wanna come for real.” He whined.

“I’m sure you do, sweetheart, but you still have 20 more days until Locktober is finished and then another 30 for No Nut November.” You said cruelly, making him sob out a moan. Robert could safeword at any time and this would all stop immediately, but you knew he wouldn’t because no matter how much he claimed it hurt and he couldn’t bear it, deep down, he wanted it. He craved being owned by you— completely.

“Keep being my good boy and I’ll milk you every week or two. I don’t want my baby to be in too much pain.” Any kindness that might’ve been in your voice was completely overshadowed by the real meaning of your words; he won’t have any orgasms for two months, but you’ll be ‘nice’ and occasionally give him a prostate massage to make him ‘come.’

After another few seconds, the stream leaking from his cock slowed into a sporadic trickle, then stopped completely. You gently pulled your fingers out of him and he let out a soft sound, but was focusing mostly on catching his breath.

“Turn over on the other side of the bed.” You instructed. He seemed glad to give his quivering legs a break and rolled to the other side onto his back. “Look at the mess you made.” You said teasingly. He blushed and bit his lip, staring at the soaked towel. When he looked away sheepishly, you let out a quiet chuckle and carefully picked up the towel, then walked it to the bathroom, setting it in the sink for now. You quickly made your way back to the bedroom and joined Robert on the clean side of the bed, pulling him into your arms, letting him lay his head on your chest.

“How are you feeling, angel?” You asked softly, petting his hair.

“Needy.” He mumbled against you, making you laugh quietly.

“I know… but you’re my good boy, aren’t you? I know you can do it.” He let out a soft sound and nuzzled into your chest to hide his blushing face. “But…” you added, talking slowly to make sure he was listening, “if you feel like you can’t do it, I don’t want you to hesitate, okay? I won’t be upset or disappointed.” He turned his head so his chin was on your chest and he was looking up at you. “Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d last this long.” You chuckled and he gave you a shy smile.

“It’s hard, but… wanna be good for you.” He said sheepishly, making your heart practically melt.

“Yeah?” Sometimes his unwavering devotion and submissiveness made you a bit nervous. Robert was the first person you’ve ever been with who actually gave you this much control over him and you weren’t really used to it. Part of you found the responsibility a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was just endearing. It made you feel so special that he trusted you so much.

He nodded with a blush and you cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “Good.” You murmured, dragging your gaze all over his face. “Do you want to help me get off or do you want to lay there and watch?”

“Wanna help.” He said without hesitation, but you could see the way he was pouting, feeling jealous that you were able to come while he wasn’t.

“Good boy. Go get the strap then. Just because you’re locked up doesn’t mean you can’t fuck me.” You smirked, making his frown deepen. “Unless you’d rather watch me use my vibrator instead…?” He immediately got up to go retrieve the strap, along with your favorite dildo, and you laughed quietly at his eagerness.

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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thevelvetvampyre · 10 months ago

Text

The Typo - Robert Fischer x Secretary

I’ve just watched Secretary and I had to write a version of it for Robert Fischer so this is heeeeeavily inspired by the film.

“Now, pull up your skirt.”

“Why?”

“You're not worried that I'm going to fuck you, are you? I'm not interested in that, not in the least. Now, pull up your skirt.”

Warnings: small age gap (reader is early 20’s, rob is mid 30’s), roberts a dom, spanking, adult content, non-penetrative sex, he cums on you lol

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Mr.Fischer had strict rules when it came to how you worked in his office. All you were required to do was type and answer the phone, nothing more or nothing less. Focus on making no typos, keeping the staples filled, making sure his pencils were sharp and I repeat, absolutely no typos.

Other than the boring mundane you grew to love in the routine he made for you, your favourite part of the job was delivering the letters you typed out on the state of the art typewriter he bought as your gift for being such a good girl.

Placing the sealed envelope in between your wet lips, you dropped to your hands and knees as your palms walked you to his office. Crawling on the lush, carpeted floor to his desk, your pussy heated up and dripped with anticipation, hoping that this was the day he’d finally touch you and tear you apart by your tight hole.

Stopping in front of his desk, you sat back on your shins and looked up at him behind the big, oak piece of wood. Not looking up or acknowledging your presence, you felt the paper wet in your mouth and coat your tongue in a chalky, dry feel.

Muffling a whimper after sitting on your knees for two minutes with no reaction from your boss, your shins started to prickle against the fur of the carpet and you sat as still as you could, attempting to impress him with your patience.

Finally glancing off the papers his slick pen was marking, he gave you an expressionless gaze as he remained emotionless, blinking unimpressed at your persistance. Glaring his baby blue iris’s into your furrowed, begging sockets he huffed a sigh and pushed his chair back on it’s wheels.

Standing up and sneaking his hands into his pockets, he took long, slow strides around the bulk of brass wood. Now he stood over you, tilting his head with a small pout as his glance softened at your big, puppy eyes looking up at him.

The smell of his cologne had polluted your nostrils, feeling your walls clench around nothing as the scent of him alone turned you animalistic. Continuing to whimper as you rolled your hips onto the back of your shins for some relief, his eyes never left yours as he kept his crotch close to your face and watched you unravel beneath him.

Enjoying the show, his eyebrows cocked in entertainment at your struggled attempt of friction on your soaked slit.

Reaching down and pinching the paper in between his thumb and index finger, he slid the envelop out your mouth and brought it to his face. Analysing the paper as he turned his wrist to look at it at all angles, he hummed out with a clenched jaw as he admired the drying saliva in the shape of your teeth.

Dropping the paper to his side, he made his way back around the desk and sat on his thick, leather chair. Pulling himself back into the crevice of the counter, he dropped the letter next to him and resumed his work. Clearing his throat, his eyes remained on the paper through your submissiveness, not giving you any attention.

With the lack of acknowledgement, you whined a small moan out your lips feeling defeated. His focus never deferring from the paper that laid limp on his desk.

“You can go.” He said bluntly, a tear forming in the corner of your eye with how you were left unsatisfied yet again.

Sitting back up on your stinging knees and sweaty palms, you turned around and crawled shamefully out the door as a hot tear trickled down your cheek. Feeling the cold air on the wet cotton that covered your mound, the fabric turned cold against your dripping cunt.

Keeping his chin down but snapping his eyes upwards to watch as your hips swayed on all fours, his cock pulsated and started to swell at your compliance. Admiring the wet patch he had perfect view of with your pussy revealing your arousal in your spread position, his dry bottom lip dropped slowly and blood began to fill his thick, veiny cock.

Your skirt had ridden up and exposed the bottom of your asscheeks, your black tights were close to transparent and displaying the perfect view of your panties. Gulping the ball of saliva down his throat, his eyes followed you out until you had quietly sneaked out his office.

Clearing his throat as he felt his erection leak out his tip, his eyes fell back to his paper and he regained focus on his work.

——————

Sitting at your desk, it had been a couple of hours since you delivered the letter to Mr.Fischer. A wave of relief passed you as you had no feedback, meaning the letter was perfect and you had impressed him with your typing.

Giving yourself a small grin as you proudly sat in your chair twirling a strand of your soft hair, the phone buzzed on your desk and caught your attention.

“How can I help, Mr.Fischer?” You’re heart started pounding in your chest, banging against your ribs as a heat prickled up your face in excitement to hearing his voice on the speaker phone.

“Come into my office.” He says calmly, his voice husky and low.

“But… Mr.Saito is here for his meeting, sir.” You glance over at Mr.Fischer’s client who had been sat patiently for the past fifteen minutes, giving him a smile which he returned eagerly.

“Ms. Y/L/N, come into my office.” He responds, waiting a few moments as the calmness stayed evident in his voice.

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help but smile, a blush trickling on your cheeks as you stood carefully and made your way down the hall into his office.

Walking through his already opened door, you stood by the frame and held your hands behind your back. A smile growing on your face as your boss sat on the chair behind his desk with his knees wide and fingers interlinked on his stomach. A pool of hot, leaking arousal started to drip out of your desperate cunt as he stared at you with a clenched jaw and huffing nostrils.

“Close the door.” He instructed, a careful tone in his voice that was barely above a whisper.

You turned around faster than you could blink, closing the door and taking small steps in front of his desk.

“Yes, Mr.Fischer?” Your walls were pulsating, chest flushed with arousal and a wide, willing grin on your face.

Watching as his eyes fell from yours onto the paper in front of you on his desk, he nodded towards the open letter and you shuffled closer.

“I want you to read the letter.” He looked back up at you and sat further back in his chair. “Tell me what you see.”

Picking up the thin paper in your hand, you raised it closer to your eyes and quickly scanned through. It was the letter you wrote only a few hours ago, heart beating in your ears as your eyes flickered through the sentences.

“Hm?” His eyebrows cocked up, waiting for the response that was clogged in your throat.

“I-I don’t see… anything.” The last word was a whisper, lowering the paper and glancing up at him. He had an unsatisfied look on his face, scrunching it in disappointment and shaking his head slowly.

“Put the letter on my desk.” The words were slow and purred, the wetness of his mouth evident with his pronunciation.

Following his instruction, you placed the paper back onto the wood and watched as he stood up, sighing as he walked past you. Hearing the sounds of his shoes stop clacking on the floor, a wave of heat spread along your backside and the familiar scent of bourbon, spiced wood and musk surrounded your skin.

“Now, I want you to bend over the desk and read the letter very carefully. Bend over so you’re looking directly at it.” You furrowed your brows and turned your neck slightly to look at him. He was a mere inches away from your face and you shivered at the proximity of you.

“Uh… I don’t understand.” Shy and vulnerable underneath him, your words were quiet and shaky.

“There’s nothing to understand. Put your elbows on the desk and get your face very close to it.” With no agitation in his voice, you were unsure if he was being serious or not. After a few moments passed, a huff left his lips and his eyes rolled.

“Put your elbows on the desk, get your face close to it and read.” Doing as you were told, you bent over the desk as the letter sat in between your forearms.

“Mhm… good.” He groaned under his breath.

Clearing your throat as your cheeks heated up with embarrassment and arousal, you felt his body step closer and a loud sigh leave his lips.

“Pull your skirt up.” Eyes widening at his request, his demand sent your pussy fluttering and arousal dripping out of you.

“Why?” You continued to face forward, nervous to see the stern, cold look on his face.

“You’re not worried I’m going to fuck you, are you?” The bluntness of his voice made you whimper, the filthy connotation of his ask causing you to bite your lip and shake your head softly.

“I’m not interested in doing that.” His voice became gentle, placing both hands on your hips as his crotch aligned with your ass, feeling his heat vibrate on you as he kept at a distance.

The admission of not wanting to fuck you made your heart drop, disappointing you and causing a pout to grow on your lips.

“Now, pull your skirt up.” His hands pressed into your hips harsher, slightly massaging them before pulling them away. He remained standing in the same spot, cock hardening as he watched you pull back and flip up your skirt.

A small groan left his lips as he stared down at your exposed panties, tilting his head and biting his lip as he admired the roundness of your flesh. His tip began pulsating, slightly poking into you and causing a whimper to fall from your lips.

“Read it. Read it aloud.” He grunted under his breath, huskily commanding you with his voice.

“Dear Mr.Cobb, I’m grateful to you for referring…” Mr.Fischer took his hand and slapped it harshly across your ass, squeaking as your hips pushed forward painfully and you shot your head back to look at him.

“Continue.” You noticed how his hair was slightly looser, a pink flush across his lips that ran from his cheeks. His eyebrows furrowed and he never peeled his eyes off of your jiggling ass as his slap continued to ricochet across your skin.

“Uhm…” You were dazed and shocked by his hit, losing focus on the words and losing your ability to speak. Were you dreaming?

A dream come true.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Read.” His voice was growing louder, a disciplinary tone in his voice. You looked back at the paper and your breath shook as you caught up to where you left off.

“For referring to me as your energy supply.” Your words were chocked and salivated, your cunt throbbing for him to touch you where you heated up most.

Using the same hand, Mr.Fischer took a strike at the same ass cheek, his palm vibrating at the sting of your skin slapping together. Wincing out in pain, your teeth dug into your bottom lip as it trembled. His thick, veiny shaft was swelling with each ripple your skin bounced. Groaning lowly as a violent red started to creep onto your cheek, he swung his wrist at lighting speed and hit your sore skin once more.

Flinching forward and feeling the hard wood press against your hip bones, your wincing became louder and your knees shook. Taking a couple of breaths, your eyes returned onto the paper as you struggled to find your balance.

“The subject of renewable energy has been of interest to me for quite a while. And my secretary has prepared research material…” Your words were once more interrupted by a short, hard slap onto your ass.

Your skin began vibrating with his violence and stinging at the contact of the cold air in his office. Moaning out as he struck you once more, your cunt began leaking in desperation under his abuse.

“I think you’ll find illuminating.” You heard him grunt loudly before bringing his palm once more to your skin, the sting now unbearable as you began wiggling under his control.

It was impossible to focus, your eyes missing words and scanning over sentences you’ve accidentally missed as your vision became impaired with a hazy lens, the tears filling your sockets from the inflicted pain.

Panting out from the forceful action of his slap, you heard him whimper under his breath as he admired the red your skin had swelled to. Lifting his wrist, he pushed all his force into another slap and shoved you further onto the desk.

“Oh.” You sobbed, only causing his cock to spill pre-cum inside his expensive, lush pants. Taking a breath, you opened your teary eyes and continued.

“Yours sincerely, Robert F-“ Your sobbed moan interrupted you as the sound of your sore, swollen skin filled the room once more. You could’ve sworn you were bleeding, his slaps feeling like miniature knifes cutting into you with each attack.

“Robert Fischer.” Panting as he stood up and regained his balance after violently striking your ass cheeks, he ran his fingers through his messed hair and took deep breaths. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked down as furrowed his brows at the pulsating tent in his pants, only inches away from your limp, sobbing body. After taking a few moments to breath, he walked to the other side of you as slowly pet your untouched asscheek.

“Read it again.” He huffed out. Tears began pouring out your eyes as you looked down at the paper again, sniffling as you squeezed your legs together in an attempt to relieve you of even an inch of your agonising arousal.

Starting from the top, you re-read the letter with great difficulty. Being interrupted twelve times as he abusively slapped the other side of your ass. Your skin was pulsating at rapid speed and by the end of the letter, you had screamed his name in a muffled moan, a spill of curse words purring out of him as your tears fell onto the inked paper below you.

Breathing as he gave you a moment to rest, he groaned as his hands grasped at the side of your hips once more. You laid there with smudged mascara, choked breaths and your ass burning as your brain turned into mush over his abuse. Digging his digits into the side of you, he admired his work of violence on your skin and pushed you further onto the desk. Now basically on your tip toes, his fingers hooked under your panties and ripped them away from your mound, the cotton falling into a soft pool at your ankles.

“Fuck…” He groaned out.

“Who got you this wet Ms.Y/L/N?” You breathed out a response that was nowhere near loud enough for anyone other than yourself to hear.

“Who?” His words icy and venomous.

“You, sir!” A moan fell from your lips, shaking at the feeling of your cold air on your pussy. A small sob continuing to spur out of you, you shifted on the desk while your chest remained staying glued to the counter top, wanting to do anything to impress Mr.Fischer and prove you were the best secretary he could ever have.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to fuck me.” Your voice sad and shaky, the sudden realisation of how vulnerable you had become under him.

“I’m not.” Staying emotionless, he fumbled around his belt and zip, the clanking noise of the metal hitting the ground and causing a pang of anxiety in your chest.

You heard him struggle slightly but heard the sound of his finger nails scrapping past his skin, stripping him of all his clothes that covered his erection.

Pulling his hard, throbbing cock out into his palm, he used his thumb to smear the cloudy pre-cum that had covered his angry, red tip. Continuing to slowly circle the lubricating substance along the small slit, his head fell back and his eyes squeezed shut, a small groan leaving his throat at the slow sensation he stroked on himself.

Leaning forward slightly but making it sure to not press his cock against your bare cunt, he reached out the same palm that collected his arousal and held it under your mouth.

“Spit.” He cupped his hand and sitting back up on your elbows, you looked down at his palm that was covered in a translucent, thick liquid and spat directly into the center of it.

Finding his position back behind you and opening his legs slightly, he used the palm you spat on to start stroking his cock. He twisted his wrist and moaned softly under his breath, keeping his eyes glued to your spread pussy on his desk. Watching as you clenched around nothing, in response to his desperate groans as he fisted himself, your hole began to leak a white liquid down your slit, tickling your mound and causing you to wriggle and whimper.

At the sight of this, Mr.Fischer began stroking himself violently, groaning as his mouth fell open and his eyebrows knitted fiercely together. The vein in his neck began thumping under his skin and angrily poked through, his skin growing hotter and redder with each stroke.

As you lay there, you were unable to see him but heard as his voice began trembling with each groan.

“Fuck- so submissive.” He gave a throaty moan as you stayed limp on his desk, feeling your pussy flutter at his praise.

“I bet your cunt’s tight hm- oh, uhm- you’re fucking soaking.” The last word became higher in pitch as his knees buckled, flicking his wrist faster and rougher.

He stared at your salivating pussy and wanted nothing more but to press his cock deep into your hole, fucking the back of your cervix and fucking his cum so deep you’d walk around the office with it, smelling like sex and feeling him leak out of you whenever you stood up.

“I’m so close…” He whined out, reaching forward to grab your hip with his free hand.

Pumping his tensing cock, his balls aggressively bounced with each stroke. Chasing his high desperately as a tear formed in the corner of his eye, his nails dug into your skin and caused you to wince.

“I’m gonna cum on your cunt.” He grunted through his breaths, sounding animalistic as the wetness of his strokes filled the wall.

“Mm-mhm.” You whined.

The squelching noises of his palm around his throbbing, veiny cock sent you over the edge, moaning at your lack of friction and the sounds of his choked, pleasured sobs. Pressing into your hip even harder, you heard him groan from the bottom of his belly as a hot liquid shot onto your mound, soaking your slit with his seed as the shots of the cloudy substance spread on your exposed pussy.

“Oh fuck- yes… ah!” He winced at the end, shooting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

His knees wobbled and his hand loosened around your hip, slowly continuing to pump at himself as his face blushed red and his swollen lips fell open.

Laying still on his desk as you felt his cum leak down the outside of your pussy, it dripped to your clit and delicately ran past your pressure point, causing you to squeal as it tickled you.

Taking both of his hands and spreading your cheeks, he watched as the white, thick goo trickled down your cunt onto your thighs and the floor. Continuing to pant as he stared in awe, he moaned at the sight of the mixture of both of your arousals dripping down your leg.

Standing back up, you remained lifeless on his desk in shock of what had just happened. Hearing the zip of his pants and buckle of his belt, you remained with your elbows looking up at his chair as he walked over and sat opposite you. Running his fingers through his gelled hair that had become messy in the midst of him fisting himself till he came onto your bare pussy, he cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the paper in front of him, picking up a red pain and opening the cap.

“Tell Mr.Saito he can come in now.” Furrowing your brows at his lack of expression, you stood up and pulled your panties back to cover your mound. Instantly, you felt the hot liquid of his orgasm fill the bottom of you, blushing as you pulled your skirt over and patted the sides down.

“Illuminating.” He said blankly, passing you the letter from earlier.

“Sorry?” You asked him, looking down at the paper. A huge, red circle surrounded the word illuminating on your paper.

“You spelt it wrong. That… was your mistake.” His eyes finally met yours and blinked expressionlessly.

“Oh… thank you sir.” You turned around and began walking to the door, blushing as you stroked your hair to bring Mr.Saito inside for his meeting.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #oppenheimer #cillian murphy drabble #smut #secretary #inception #Robert Fischer #robert fischer x reader #Robert Fischer smut #peaky blinders

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kiernanshayemckay · 7 months ago

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More Cillian Murphy as Robert Fischer in Inception (2010) dir. Christopher Nolan

#hollywood #robert fisher #Christopher nolan #inception #cillian murphy

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darlingsfandom · 3 months ago

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You’re not in charge honey …

Anon: Hi, can you write one for Robert Fischer where he is forced to marry y/n because of his father’s wish and his father always likes y/n because he thinks she is more capable than Robert. So Robert gets frustrated and take it out on y/n to let her know who’s in charge in bed lol. sorry if the plot is too long!

TW: cum eating, p in v, unprotected sex, breath play, degradation, swearing!

Not proofread !

You were smart, funny, kind and overall a good fit for Robert in his father’s eyes. In reality you would admit Robert is an attractive man but he was a spoiled brat underneath it all. When the two of your first met he was starstruck with you because he’d admit you’re an attractive piece of ass but as the two of you dated he found himself getting bored of you. You were a toy he outgrew but his father would not allow that.

“Excuse me? Did you just say I have to marry her?” Robert about choked on his wine as his father sat across the table from him. “It’s bad enough I have to live with her!” He rolled his eyes before setting his glass down.

“And here I am thinking you adore me darling!” You rolled your eyes before flinging your napkin off your lap.

“See! She’s a spoiled brat!” Robert whined.

“That’s rich coming from you!” You slapped him upside the head before his father let out a chuckle. Robert shot him a look and his father shook his head.

“You’re only bothered by her because she’s the only that puts up with your shit Robert! You don’t like that she’s dominating over you.” His father took another sip of his drink before he stood up. “You’re marrying her! That’s final. And if you try to find a way out, you can kiss your inheritance goodbye.” His father stormed out of the room leaving a pissy Robert sitting alone.

Later that evening you were in the silk sheets wearing his favorite little outfit with the faux fear that lined the top of the cleavage. Robert walked into the room and leaned against the door frame.

“What the matter ? So sad you have to marry little ol’ me ? The girl who gives you everything you want! The girl who praises you!” You sat up on your knees with a playful pout. “Must be awful having to marry the fuck who fucks you in the ass!” Robert slammed the door shut before he strolled over to you, grinned and wrapped his hand around your throat. Both of you smiled at each other before the grip tightened and you felt the air leave your lungs.

Robert watched as your eyes slowly closed before he let go of your throat making you suddenly gasp for air. Your breathing was uneasy but this was normal. His fingers traced over the marks on your neck making you perk up.

“You think you’re so cute, that you have the higher up in this but we both know who’s really in charge.” Robert pulled the strap of your lingerie making you jump when it snapped back against your skin. He licked his lips before he stripped down to just his boxers. “Now be a good girl and come suck my cock.” Robert stuck his hand down his boxers, pumped his cock enough to the get the precum on his fingers before taking his cum covered fingers and shoved them in your mouth. “That’s right baby, can’t talk back with your mouth full.”

You sucked heavily on his fingers while looking into his eyes. Robert pulled out his fingers and rubbed them across your face before pulling his boxers off. His cock was actually the biggest you’ve ever had considering one was made out of plastic , lived in your bedside table and once in a while went up his ass. He grabbed you by your hair, pulled you down and stood at the side of the bed as you laid down to wrap your lips around the head of his sticky cock. A soft moan left his lips as you sucked the head.

“See, so much better when your mouth is full of cock.” His hand smoothed over your hair while you look up at you with those oh so innocent eyes. He loved your innocent act but that’s what it was, an act but not for him no, he knew how bad you were behind the doors. How could some as sweet as you do such naughty things. You swirled your tongue around the head before slowly stuffing the rest of his cock down your throat. Your nose hit his trimmed happy trail making you scrunch your nose since it tickled.

Robert’s hand stayed on the back of your head while you sucked his cock eagerly. The sounds of you gagging mixed with his moans were enough to have you clenching around nothing. His fingers pulled on your hair making whine around his cock sending a shiver up his spine until he moved his hands to your cheeks and held them gently before he started thrusting down your throat.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, your hands gripped his thighs and he looked down at you with those dark eyes as he fucked your face. He loved face fucking you. You took it like the good girl you are. He pulled away and awed as the string of spit that connected his cock to your lips shined. You took your chance to breathe before sitting up on your knees. Robert pushed you back down before he climbed on top of you, pinned your hands above your head and held them there before he grabbed his belt off the floor to tie them above your head.

He grabbed your legs and spread them wide.

“Look at that, not wearing any panties and already dripping onto the sheets. What a fucking slut.” Robert slapped your pussy making you jump with excitement. He did it again making you yelp. “You would enjoy that.” He rolled his eyes as he spanked your pussy again.

You wiggled your hips but he pinned them back down before he sat between your legs to stroke your cunt slowly before sitting up on his knees, pulling you closer and rubbed the head against your soaked folds.

“Sir!” You gasped as he pushed the head in. Robert wasted no time in pushing his cock into. Your mouth hung open as he stretched you good. Even though you and Robert fucked a few times a week he always felt huge in you. Whines left your mouth as he held up your hips and fucked into you hard. Long deep strokes to hit that spot you liked. Robert reached between your bodies to rub circles on your clit with his thumb as you whined out his name.

“That’s it honey, taking my cock like a dirty fucking slut. Everyone thinks you’re so innocent but you’re such a dirty slut!” He wrapped your legs around his waist before he powered over you and placed his hands around your neck. Your signature smile appeared as he choked you out. Small gasps of breath were leaving your lungs as he fucked you faster, the sheets tangling below you as he looked into your eyes. You looked so pretty below him.

The bed rocked with his thrusts. Echos of his balls slapping against your cunt filled the room making you squeeze his cock. He let up on your throat before he hooked his fingers into your mouth. You greedily sucked on them . Robert wasn’t taking it easy on you. You had more tears streaming down your face until you felt him slap your face. You sucked faster on his fingers and smoothed your hair that time.

“Fuck! I’m going to cum in you sweetheart!”

You whimpered around his fingers until he pulled them out and wiped them across your breasts. He forced open your mouth before he spit in it and watched you swallow.

“That’s right baby, you take what I give you!” His thrusts were getting sloppy as he held onto your hips and coated your insides with his hot cum. “Take every last drop!” He grunted fucking his last few drops into you.

You whimpered signaling to him that you wanted him. Robert rubbed your clit fast in hard circles. You tried to close your eyes as your orgasm hit but he slapped you again making you look at him as you squeezed his cock.

“Good girl.” He pulled out of you, scooped up the leaking cum with three fingers before shoving them in your mouth. “Father always wanted me to marry a good girl, still don’t know if that’s actually you.” He pulled out his fingers as you laid there with your hands still tied above your head. Robert cleaned himself up before he even looked in your direction.

He was a spoiled little prick that you loved and in his own twisted way he loved you as well but he’d never admit it.

#robert fischer drabble #robert fischer x y/n #robert fischer blurb #robert fischer x you #robert fischer cillian murphy #cillian murphy #emsblurbs #cillian murphy smut #robert fischer smut #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer inception

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jonathancraneswife · 2 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 / Robert Fischer

pairing - Robert Fischer x (fem!)reader

summary - When things at Fischer morrow get out of hand, robert asks for a favour from his very own secretary; you.

words - 2.4k

warnings - MDNI 18+ — oral sex (m! receiving), creampie, quickie, semi- public act, fluff, pleasure uses as relief, handjob.

notes - look who decided to post after almost a decade..imagine this is my first fic of the year wow istg i am coming back into writing, send requests

masterlist

In the fischer morrow, you were known to be the perfect secretary. you didn't just manage schedules and filtered emails

you knew the inner workings of the company better than most of its leaders.

And behind the polished professional demeanor rested a sharp intellect mastermind who calculated her every move with focused precision, you navigated the situation with effortless control leaving no chance of doubt for others to leave behind your work.

People in the company referred to you as a calculated person who was always one step ahead, many times you had received praises from the leaders at the annual ceremony of the company, you had great titles lined up in your office, overall you are the best employee of fischer morrow.

At this moment you stood in your boss’ office, casting a brief glance at your wrist-watch as you tapped your feet continuously on the ground, with every passing second you felt impatient and worried.

your boss. Robert Fischer, was a highly demanding person. rich and arrogant heir who would always throw tantrums at the smallest thing in the company but ever since his father died he has been utterly disturbed.

The man in question, your boss was fashionably late for the deal, for FischerI morrow, this was a crucial opportunity to secure their future, every second of this dealing was meticulously planned.

And if the company leader himself didn't show up, the deal would be called off entirely. you retrieve your phone from your bag and dial Robert's number, this was the twentieth call since the morning.

He didn't pick up the phone, yet again.

Minutes ticked by the absence of your boss, Robert, which became glaringly obvious. your frustration grew. The meeting agenda was tightly clutched in your hands as you glanced at the clock for the fifth time in ten minutes.

you couldn't help but grab the phone to call him once again, your fingers hovered over the keypad. the ring tone reached through your ear, each beep was mocking your anticipation.

“oh, come on” you muttered under your breath, the call went to the voicemail again, you hung up with a sharp sigh, tossing the phone onto the desk and leaning back in your chair.

Glancing at the clock one more time, the meeting would start in half an hour from now, where he could possibly be–?

The void of your thoughts was abruptly broken by the faint creak of the door. your gaze snapped toward it, Robert stepped into the cabin with an air of casual indifference.

The tension that had been building inside your chest finally eased, letting out a sigh of relief, you rose up from your chair. now striding in his direction.

“Sir, everyone is waiting for you. I hope you are aware how important this deal is for you and the Fischer morrow” you say, your tone was strictly professional.

The expressions on Robert's face were shifted slightly. his usually composed demeanor flattered as worry and uneasiness was crept on his face.

“Well aware” he muttered, his usual defiant tone was now laced with tension, his eyes darted towards the clock.

“Great, now we have to move things for the meeting quickly. We don't have enough time left” your voice was toned in annoyance and irritation.

you turn to the door, hurriedly your steps were determined to leave for the meeting

but before you could take another step, Robert’s hand wraps around your wrist in a tight hold, his desperate grip pulled you back in your place.

The warmth of his touch contrasts with the cold air in the room, confusion stirred up in your mind at his sudden actions, Robert’s firm grip on your wrist sends a jolt through your senses, leaving you trapped in chaos of your own uncertainty.

“I need to talk to you about something” Robert spoke, his demeanor was subtly shifted to vulnerability.

Yet another tantrum, you thought. bracing yourself for whatever his arrogant mind has conjured up to say this time, “I am all ears, sir”.

The moment this words left your lips, he grasped your waist closely, pulling you closely towards his body, earning a gasp from you at his sudden actions.

“Listen, t-today is an important day for me, for this company. D-dad has dreamed about this dream since the day he started off to build this morrow”. His voice drops to whisper.

“When he was on his death bed, he called me and said that I-I have to secure this deal, it is my responsibility now, and if I failed this opportunity then he'd be disappointed in me” Robert finishes of with a sigh.

Both of you were caught in a moment of exposure, as his personal assistant you knew how insecure and sensitive Robert was, only you knew under that cold facade rested a man who was deeply hesitant and self-doubting.

“..I know we will secure this deal, you have worked for this day and night, suffering from countless sleepless nights for this one project. they will be worth it” You tell him in a reassuring voice.

He shakes his head, “No- no, my gut feeling says that I am going to fucking lose this, and I cannot bare that loss-”

you cut him of abruptly, “Sir, you are just stressed and anxious about the deal, I believe you can do this, I trust you”.

Trust, a value Robert held above love, tension in his chest eased down at you assuring words, but the storm in his mind remained tugged in his thoughts.

“I-I know you trust me, but I need a favour from you, this is something only you can do” He continues in a low voice, “but this is something we have never done before…”

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, his twisted sentences made you perplexed

“What is it?” you questioned, “you can tell me without any hesitation”.

He sighs again, his eyes remaining on the floor as he speaks, “This is something more intimate, something more than personal” Robert intertwines his fingers with yours, his ocean blue eyes locked into yours sending a shiver down your spine.

"...This is so awkward," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. Robert hesitated for a moment, his eyes avoiding yours before finally admitting, "I-I need you to pleasure me”.

your eyes widened at his unexpected request, shock and uncertainty flashed on your face, For a moment. You weren't sure if you heard him correctly, his words echoing in your mind as you tried to process their true meaning.

His gaze softened as he took in your reaction, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words to ease the tension he had created.

“Please don't deny this, I need this, I need you, right now please I beg you. we can be quick” He pleaded out, his blue eyes sparked with true genuinity while his hold on your hands tightened.

you noticed the way his expressions turned more weak , Robert’s shoulder were hunched signalling lack of confidence. You paused, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, “Alright.”

Robert's features instantly softened, a flicker of relief washing over his face.His eyes, which had previously been shadowed with uncertainty, now brightened with a spark of hope.

He gently took your hand, leading you toward the leather couch nestled in the corner of his office.

Robert settled himself on the leather couch, He spreads his legs widely while his arms rested on the back of the couch, his blue eyes radiating a silent invitation for you to join him.

Once he was settled, you slowly dropped to your knees positioning yourself carefully between his legs, you knelt before him.

you were positioned between his sprawled legs, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Robert's blue eyes burned into yours radiating a silent invitation and a warning for you to hurry up.

slowly, you reached out and grasped his belt buckle, with unsteady fingers, you unclasped the buckle letting it drop on the floor beside you. The zipper to his trousers took an eternity to descend down in the charged silence of his spacious office.

As you pulled down the remaining fabric, his cock sprange free. erect, thick , heavy and the sheer size which was impossible to ignore, his length throbbed before you, The musky scent of his arousal filled your nostrils. you could feel the heat emanating from his skin.

your eyes locked with Robert's as you tilted your head slightly. "Do you really want this ?" you asked, your heart beating faster in your chest.

He nodded instantly, his voice was steady but there was an underlying desperation in his tone, “I need this” His gaze bored into yours, reassuring you with every possible movements.

you swallowed hard, forcing down the lump of fear that had settled in your chest like a heavy weight.

Hesitatingly, you wrap your hand around his impressive size, feeling the pulse twitch against your palm. Robert let out a sharp groan, his fingers curling around the leather couch.

you began to stroke his cock, your hand moving in fast and rapid motion. squeezing his length gently in your hands. the pace of your movements fastened leaving Robert breathless.

Leaning forward, you flick your tongue around the top of his cock to taste him, running it along the underside of his length, The sweetness explodes in your mouth.

you felt the weight of his shaft around your tongue, the thick vein pulsing with each beat. your tongue danced around the sensitive flesh, tracing every contour of his sensitive skin, you swirled around it around the swollen crown.

“Fuck, your being such a good girl today” Robert lets out between shakey breaths, his nostrils flaring as he tries to regain his control.

In the response, you took him deeper feeling his shaft in the right channel of your throat, your head darts up and down with precision, your lips guiding around his thick shaft in a hypnotic rhythm.

Robert gripped your hairs in a fist, urging you to take him deeper in your mouth. you took him in your mouth then inch throbbing by inch, until you could feel his swollen head at the back of your throat.

your head bobs up and down on his massive cock at furious, restless speed. The crude wet squelches and sloppy slurps of your desperate sucking filled the room punctuated with Robert’s grutal and primal groans.

your throat bulges obscenely at each brutal thrust, your neck muscles clenching around his invading grith as you suck his cock with solid licks.

Robert’s grip on your hairs tightened, “right at the spot, I am fucking loving it” he grunts, his voice coming out in pleasureable moans.

your skull slams in his groin at a punishing pace, your lips were tightly sealed around his throbbing shaft. guttural, animalastic groans and grunts tear from his throat as you suck him wild and desperate abandon.

His hand fists in your hair, gathering the dishevelled locks into a ponytail, he uses his grip to bob your head up and down in brutal, reluctant speed.

The head of his shaft brutally bruises the back of your throat making you gag on his cock, you struggle to breath. your lungs sceaming for air as he grinds his hips faster over your mouth.

your eyes bulge, tears pouring down your face while the streaks of mascara paint your cheeks as his cock head was deeply buried in the back of your throat.

The room was filled with the musky scent of Robert's arousal mixed with your stuffed moans and his animalistic groans.

He slams your head down one last time, burying his cock to the hilt in your convulsing throat. His body goes rigid, muscles seizing as his climax crashes over him like a tidal wave.

“I need you to take all of me, swallow every last drop for me” He groans, his voice was raw and primal. His shaft pulses and jerks, swelling impossibly thicker as it unleashes a torrent of hot, thick cum directly in your mouth.

you feel the first scalding spurt hit your throat, His cock twitches and bucks as it pumps out what feels like an endless amount of cum, flooding your inside with his essence.

you swallow greedily, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of his potent release, Some of it backs up, oozing out around his shaft and dribbling down your chin.

The room fills with the scent of sex and orgasam, the air thick and heavy with the musky perfume of his climax. Robert grinds into you, holding you in place as the last weak spurts dribble onto your tongue.

His chest heaves, sweat pouring down his face as he gasps for breath, riding out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. Finally, with a shudder and a groan, he releases your hair, his softening cock slipping from your abused throat with a wet plop.

After the moment, you slowly get up. feeling your cunt clenching and throbbing at the same time, soaking wet through your panties.

You straightened your pencil skirt, smoothing the fabric with trembling hands, and buttoned up your blouse, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the effort to compose yourself.

While Robert, stood by the couch adjusting his tie with one hand while tugging his trousers on his torso with the other hand.

Avoiding his piercing gaze, you cleared your throat and broke the silence. "Sir, the meeting starts in less than ten minutes. We really have to hurry." your voice was steadier than you expected, but your cheeks still burned with the memory of the scene.

Robert nods, the parable tension of the deal still lingered in his eyes. his expressions were vulnerable and sympathetic, he called out your name, “Wait”

“...stay with me during the meeting” his voice was shaken, a rare crack in the armor of his professional cold demeanour.

You nod approvingly , your tone calm and professional. "As your secretary, it’s my responsibility to guide you through the deal and ensure everything goes smoothly.”

Before he could respond, you reached out, your fingers wrapping around his wrist in a firm yet comforting grip."Mr. Fischer," you said softly but with conviction, "you’re going to close this deal, I believe in you.”

The sincerity in your voice lingered in the air, grounding him in a way that words rarely did. his guarded expression softened, and he gave a slight nod, drawing confidence from your comforting words.

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cilly-murphy · 1 year ago

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

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kissmarrycill · 9 months ago

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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

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ladyalatariel · 2 years ago

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

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viesanterieures · 1 year ago

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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

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 6 months ago

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LOOK AT YOU

KINKTOBER DAY 8 - MIRROR SEX WITH ROBERT FISCHER

Pairing - Robert Fischer x fem!reader

Summary - Robert likes to have you look at your-filthy-self whenever he takes you.

Warnings - Dubcon, degrading, mean Robert, brat taming, dirty talk.

Word count - 1.5k

The sweat on your skin was clearly visible as you shamefully watched yourself getting pounded from behind through the ensuite mirror. The glass was fogging up, your eyes blurred by the high state of pleasure. Your slippery hands gripped onto the edge of the bassinet as you moaned out in ecstasy. The pair of you were stripped naked, skin heated from your engagement in physical activity.

“Look at yourself, always so desperate for my cock like a little whore…” Robert grunted from behind, his blue eyes locked onto yours through the reflection.

Your walls naturally squeezed around him. It was your guilty pleasure for him to verbally degrade you. An eccentricity that you never knew you craved until you met Robert.

“Yes Robbie” you whimpered, grinding your ass back to get as much sensation as physically possible.

“Can never fucking wait…” Robert hissed as he slapped your ass to hear you yelp out. “Always so needy, I have a business to run, y’know?” He cocked an eye to you, speaking in a concerningly stable tone as his hips continued to snap into you.

“M’sorry… I know you do” you half asked your apology, far to distracted by your waves of pleasure to pay attention to what he was saying.

“I give you so many privileges, but it’s never enough… You didn't even bother to ask how my day was. Too busy crying over the denial of my cock” Robert tutted.

When you woke up in the morning, you were horny. The toys Robert brought you never matched the power of his dick. So you spent the whole day reckless, counting down the minutes on the clock for him to come home. The moment Robert returned, you pounced on him like a tiger. But when he shooed away your advances, you broke down into tears. Desperately begging him for his cock, your arms were wrapped tightly around his leg until he gave in. The look of dissatisfaction on his perfect face went unnoticed by you.

It took you far too long to even realize what he was saying. When he slowed down his thrusts and focused on making them rather painful for you, you gulped and tried to put his words together like a puzzle piece.

“I-uh… H-how was your day?” You eventually spat out, tilting your face up to look at him in the mirror, your eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to take control over your breathing.

“Fucking shit” Robert snapped, his fingernails dug into the skin of your hips.

“I’m sorry!” You mewled, his cock pushing in as far as physically possible.

Robert spat out, dropping his eyes onto the curves of your ass as he focused on fucking you dumb. You hissed out, your legs wobbling like jelly as you struggled to stay up.

“Your whining is inflaming, can’t you just shut up for once?” Robert snapped.

“I can try” you whined, biting onto your lower lip in hopes to satisfy him.

Robert exhaled out, his cock falling still inside of you. His voice dropped so low that you almost didn’t hear what he said.

“How are you going to react when I leave tomorrow?” Robert asked blankly.

You quickly turned your body around, his length falling out of your slippery hole.

“What- But… I thought I was coming?” you shuddered, blinking like flashes of lighting as you fel your eyes swell up.

“Not anymore” Robert exhaled, tilting his head down to you.

Your lower lip trembled as you began to blubber.

“Robbie no! Please take me with you!” you sobbed, covering your chest due to the wave of humiliation.

“No, no…” Robert sighed, shaking his arms at the idea of that. “You’re clearly too desperate for my cock… I can’t afford to have you distract me, sweetheart. It’s an important work trip for me love” Robert explained.

It was only five days, but nevertheless, you had become so in routine with seeing him every single day. So needy and attached to Robert after only a few months of dating him. He was your perfect match, he knew it too. He loved having someone bend in humanly impossible ways for him. Liked to see how dedicated you truly were to him. Yes, your neediness certainly got on his nerves, but he couldn’t help but to also get so riled up from it.

But the paranoia and anxiety was a thunderstorm in your mind. There will be plenty of women throwing themselves at him. What if he goes off sleeping with others. Even worse, what if he falls for another woman?

Robert had never given you any suspicions for infidelity, his devilish eyes always locked onto you. No matter how badly another woman would try to steal his focus away. But you couldn’t help but to always feel subconscious that one day he would let you go. Your only leverage was ever your compelling looks and well, sex. He was the breadwinner, he had all of the assets, you were just his shiny trophy to show off.

“Where are you going off to?” Robert frowned as you rushed out of the ensuite.

“Somewhere else” you sniffled as you picked up your robe and slid it on quickly.

There was nowhere you couldn’t really hide off in his penthouse.

“What?” Robert snorted, shaking his head as he followed you. As you reached out to open the bedroom door, his hand slammed onto the wood. His nostrils flared but Robert was smirking at you. “You were just so desperate for my cock! What’s wrong now?” He sarcastically pouted at you.

“I’m not in the mood anymore” you weeped heavily.

Robert wrapped his arms around your waist underneath your robe. As your bodies pressed together, he tilted his head down at you, pursing his lips. Whenever you looked at him with those deer eyes, his cock would have a twitching fit.

“No, you’ve got me all built up now. Come and slide onto my cock again and watch how good I fuck you” Robert ordered, sliding your robe off leisurely.

“Robbie please” you pleaded as he easily pulled you over to the king sized bed.

“You know the rules. You do as I tell you and I treat you like the bratty princess you are” he snarked.

As he petted your ass to encourage you to hop onto the bed, you sighed defeatedly. Obediently, you followed his request and climbed up onto all fours. With his hands guiding you to turn around to face him, Robert stared down emotionlessly at you.

“You do want me to propose one day, don’t you?” Robert sneered through an innocent look.

A blind man would know your answer. Being engaged to Robert was the ultimate fantasy. Having the honor of wearing his last name would be a dream come true. Even though you had been together for such little time, you were twisting and turning on your seat, wishing to be engaged already. Robert had hinted at an engagement, but never so explicitly.

“Yes Robbie” you gulped, completely wordless for a proper response.

“I’ve been looking at rings, but nothing has caught my eye yet. Nothing matches your beauty” Robert whispered, his hand caressingly your heated cheek.

“Really?” You asked, your chest lifting up.

“Yeah… Alright now, look into the mirror, let’s remember how good I fuck you” Robert nodded as he gestured his hand to the floor length mirror in the corner of the room.

His knees sunk into the mattress behind you, hands guiding your cunt to press against the tip of his erection. At ease, his member disappeared into your sweet abyss.

“Can you see how desperate you are for me? Such a pretty face when you moan like a dirty slut” Robert complimented, his mouth hung open as he slowly fucked your pulsing walls.

“Uh-huh” you moaned up, your upper body slowly slipping closer to the mattress as you allowed your spikes of pleasure to fill your mind again.

“Yeah, come on, wrap this up for us… I have an early flight tomorrow, remember?” Robert toyed, snapping your painful thoughts back. Your body shot back up again.

“Please can I come!” You begged, the last sliver of hope slipped off your tongue.

“No” he said sternly.

“I don’t want to be alone here!” you argued, your firm tone was pathetic.

“You’ll have the maids come and go. You can still go out with your friends. But the no bars, clubs or parties rule remains” Robert explained sternly. You whined in return.

It was forbidden for you to attend those places without him. The thought of another man’s eyes lingering on you without him able to protect you angered him with jealously.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll call you every night before bed, okay?” Robert assured, a gleeful smile on his lips. You forced yourself to smile back, his hips picking up place.

“Mhm, and if you leave me the fuck alone on this trip, then I’ll fuck you the whole entire night when I fly back, how does that sound?” He proposed.

“Mhm! Good Robbie!” you moaned out, his tip brushing against your cervix.

“Good, now come on, milk my cock empty then, so I won’t have to miss you so dearly” Robert grinned as he felt himself twitch harshly inside of you.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #smut #dark smut #cillian murphy x reader #robert fischer #robert fischer x you #inception #cillian murphy kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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corrupte3d-mindz · 9 months ago

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Forever a Shelby

Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas and you get married.

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings:

protective! Thomas, cocky! Thomas if you squint, kissing, lap sitting,

Thomas Shelby stood at the altar, the weight of his suit jacket pressing down on his broad shoulders. The church was grand, decorated with white lilies and gold ribbons, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Birmingham that he knew so well.

Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floor. The pews were filled with both Shelbys and Changrettas, two families whose histories were steeped in blood and rivalry. Today, however, was meant to be a day of unity, a truce symbolized by the marriage of Thomas Shelby and the daughter of his fiercest enemy, Luca Changretta. Arthur stood beside him, a rare softness in his eyes as he glanced back at the congregation. He reached out, patting Thomas on the shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Nervous, Tommy?"

Thomas turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could almost be considered a smile. "No, Arthur," he replied, his voice low and steady. "Nervous ain't in my nature." His accent, thick and rich, rolled off his tongue, a constant reminder of his roots.

Polly Gray sat in the front row, her dark eyes fixed on her nephew. There was a mixture of pride and apprehension in her gaze, a silent prayer for the future. Beside her, Michael leaned back, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the gathering. Arthur's wife, Linda, looked on with a serene expression, her hand resting in her lap. John sat a few rows behind, bouncing his baby on his knee, his wife Esme smiling warmly at the scene. Ada, dressed in a striking blue dress, chatted animatedly with Finn, while Johnny Dogs and Isaiah exchanged hushed whispers, their eyes darting around the room. The tension in the air was palpable, a heady mix of anticipation and unease. Thomas felt it in his bones, the weight of expectations and the ghosts of the past pressing down on him. Marrying into the Changretta family was a strategic move, but it wasn’t a strategic move on his part, it was love. Yes, Thomas Shelby had fallen in love with a Changretta but the same could be said for her.

“Now, hush Arthur. She’ll be walking down that aisle any minute now,” Thomas murmured, his voice a low growl that carried an edge of authority. He straightened his posture, his gaze fixed on the ornate doors at the end of the aisle

Arthur looked at him again; “You sure you’re not nervous?” Thomas could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, waiting for his reaction. He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto Arthur’s for a moment before he replied.

“I said I’m not fucking nervous, Arthur,” he said, his voice low and steady, laced with a thick Birmingham accent that carried an edge of impatience. To emphasize his point, he kicked Arthur in the back of his left knee, causing his brother to stumble briefly. Thomas chuckled, a rare, genuine sound that broke the tension momentarily. He could always count on Arthur to lighten the mood, even if unintentionally.

The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse; who was he kidding? It was for better! As the doors opened fully, revealing her figure, Thomas felt a rush of emotions. She stood there, framed by the golden light that spilled in from the hallway, her silhouette ethereal and almost otherworldly. Her dress, a delicate creation of black lace and satin, hugged her form gracefully, the long train trailing behind her like a whisper. A veil covered her face, but even through the sheer fabric, Thomas could see the outline of her features, delicate and serene.

Her father, Luka Changretta, stood beside her, his expression a mask of pride and caution. The tension between the two men was palpable, a silent reminder of the bloody history that lay between their families. Thomas’s eyes never left her as she began her slow walk down the aisle. Each step she took seemed to echo in his mind, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of his heart. He could see the slight tremble in her hands, the way she clutched her bouquet of white roses a little too tightly. Despite the nerves, she moved with a grace and determination that he found both admirable and endearing.

Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper in Thomas’s ear. “She looks beautiful, Tommy.”

Thomas nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her. “Aye, she does,” he replied, his voice softer now, filled with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. In that moment, he felt a connection to her that went beyond their shared history, beyond the political and familial implications of their marriage. It was something deeper, a bond that he hoped would grow stronger with time. The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse. But it was never worse, it saw always for better. As she reached the front of the aisle, Luka placed her hand in Thomas’s, a gesture heavy with significance. Their eyes met, while under the veil; a silent understanding passing between them, He lifted the delicate veil that covered her face, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. This was not just a marriage of convenience or strategy; it was a commitment to each other, to the future they would build together.

Jeremiah stood before them, the priest's presence both comforting and solemn. His voice, deep and resonant, filled the chapel, echoing off the ancient walls. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony Thomas Michael Shelby and _______ LaPaglia Changretta." His words carried the weight of history and expectation, binding not just two people, but two families with a fraught past.

Thomas's eyes flickered to the woman beside him. _______ LaPaglia Changretta. She was beautiful, her dark hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, her eyes a deep, enigmatic brown. Her dress was elegant, simple yet stunning, the black fabric contrasting sharply with her olive skin. She stood with a quiet grace, her expression serene, yet there was a fire in her eyes that spoke of strength and determination.

Jeremiah's voice cut through the silence. "Do you, Thomas Michael Shelby, take _______ LaPaglia Changretta to be your lawful wedded wife?" Thomas felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Every decision, every move he made was calculated, and this was no different. "I do," he said, his voice steady, firm. It was a commitment not just to her, but to the path he had chosen, the alliances he was forging.

He turned to her. "Do you, _______ LaPaglia Changretta, solemnly swear to love, honor, and obey till death do you part?" Her response was immediate, her voice clear and unwavering. "I do." There was a finality in those words, a binding promise that echoed through the chapel, sealing their fates together.

Jeremiah's proclamation was met with a collective breath, as if the entire room had been holding it in anticipation. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." The words hung in the air, a declaration that felt both momentous and surreal. Thomas turned to his new wife, his expression unreadable. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that sealed their union. It was a kiss that spoke of duty and obligation, but beneath it all, there was a spark, a glimmer of something more. As they turned to face their families, the applause was polite, restrained. This was no ordinary wedding, and the people gathered here understood the gravity of the situation. Arthur left the alter and walk to the pew to join his family. Their expression a mix of approval and caution. Polly Gray, ever the matriarch, watched with a keen eye, her sharp mind assessing every nuance, every subtle shift in the room.

The Changrettas were less expressive, their faces a mask of formality. Luca Changretta's presence was a dark cloud, a reminder of the delicate balance they were trying to achieve. His eyes bore into Thomas, a silent challenge that promised future confrontation. Thomas took her hand as they walked down the aisle, the weight of expectation heavy on his shoulders. Every step was a reminder of the path he had chosen, he wouldn’t ever regret it; the future he was forging. The guests rose as they passed, their eyes following the couple, whispers of speculation and curiosity filling the air. This was a union that would be talked about for years to come, a merging of two powerful families with a history of bloodshed and betrayal.

Outside the chapel, the sun shone brightly, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere within. The reception awaited, a lavish affair that promised to be both a celebration and a test of the new alliance. As they stepped into the sunlight, Thomas felt the warmth on his face, a brief respite from the shadows that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He glanced at her, her smile a beacon of hope in the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"Welcome to the family," Thomas said, his voice low, the Birmingham accent thick and unmistakable.

The kitchen was a stark contrast to the rest of Arrow House, filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and the earthy scent of the wood burning in the hearth. Thomas stood at the head of the room, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, ensuring he had the attention of every man present. The weight of the day was palpable; this was his wedding day, a day that marked a significant turning point in his life and the Shelby family. His dark suit was meticulously tailored, each stitch a testament to his attention to detail, and his peaked cap sat jauntily on his head, casting a shadow over his face that made his intense expression even more formidable.

"Right, boys, you're all here," he began, his voice carrying the authoritative edge that had come to define him. The men around the kitchen, his brothers Arthur, John, and Finn, along with Michael and a few trusted others, like Charlie and Johnny Dogs turned their attention to him. Each face was a study in respect and a touch of fear, for they knew Thomas was not a man to be crossed, especially not today.

"Today, this is my fucking wedding day," Thomas continued, his tone brooking no argument. His words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken understanding that this day was sacred, not just for him, but for the entire Shelby clan. It was a rare occasion of vulnerability, where the hard-edged leader allowed a glimpse of the man beneath the armor.

John, ever the irreverent one, couldn't help but interject. "Yeah, and you said there'd be no bloody uniforms," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and humor. The tension in the room crackled for a moment, a testament to the volatile nature of their relationships. Thomas fixed John with a steely gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Nevertheless... Nevertheless, John..." he began, his voice a low growl that seemed to reverberate off the walls. He took a step closer, his presence dominating the room. "Despite the bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." His words were a command, not a request, and the message was clear: today was about unity, not division.

His gaze swept around the circle, making eye contact with each man, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. "Now for my wife's sake, nothing will go wrong," he declared, his voice firm and unyielding. His love for his bride was a rare softness in his otherwise hardened demeanor, and he was determined to protect her from the chaos that often surrounded the Shelbys. Thomas pointed outside the kitchen, towards the bustling preparations for the wedding. "Those bastards out there are her family," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of disdain. He had little patience for those who might threaten the harmony of his wedding day, and he would go to great lengths to ensure everything went smoothly.

His hand traveled around the circle, pointing at each man in turn as he spoke. "And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything..." His voice trailed off as he fixed his gaze on Arthur, the eldest and most unpredictable of the brothers. There was a pause, a moment where the weight of his words seemed to settle over the room like a heavy fog.

Isaiah, leaning casually against the counter, broke the uneasy silence. "Tom..?" Thomas's gaze snapped to Isaiah, a flicker of impatience crossing his features. "To... WHAT!?" he barked, his voice low but commanding.

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What about snow," he ventured, his tone cautious. John eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Yeah, their women are sports, I’ll say that.."

"No. No. No." Thomas cut him off sharply, striding towards Isaiah with purpose. He stopped inches from his face, his breath hot and laced with the smell of tobacco. "No cocaine," he said, jabbing a finger towards Isaiah's face for emphasis. "No cocaine."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Thomas turned his attention to John, who stood to Isaiah's right. "No sport," Thomas said, waving his hand dismissively. "No telling fortunes."

He began to pace, the soles of his polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the tiled floor. Each step seemed to echo with unspoken threats, a reminder of the consequences of disobedience. He approached Arthur, his oldest and most volatile brother, stopping just short of him. "No racing," Thomas ordered, his voice a low growl. Arthur met his gaze with a slight nod, the fire in his eyes dimmed by his brother's authority. Breaking from the circle, Thomas crossed to Finn, the youngest of the Shelby brothers. Grabbing Finn's face with his left hand, he forced him to look into his eyes. "No fucking sucking petrol," he snarled, his grip tightening. He delivered a light slap to Finn's cheek, a reminder of the discipline he expected. "Out of their fucking cars."

Satisfied, Thomas released Finn and turned to Charlie, who had been lingering on the edge of the group. "And, you, Charlie," he said, his voice softer but no less intense. "Stop spinning yards about me, eh?" Charlie, taken aback, spoke up as Thomas turned his back. "I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom," he defended.

Thomas took a deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, a rare sign of the stress he carried. Returning to the center of the circle, he spun slowly, addressing them all. "But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers," he began, his voice rising with intensity. "Despite the provocation from her family, no fighting."

He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Isaiah. The room seemed to hold its breath as Thomas slowly made his way toward him, the echo of his footsteps on the wooden floor punctuating the silence. As he reached Isaiah, Thomas lifted his chin with a firm but controlled hand, forcing Isaiah to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold, yet there was a flicker of something deeper—an unspoken understanding, perhaps. “Oi,” Thomas began, his voice a low growl that resonated with authority. He pointed a finger at Isaiah, his expression unwavering. “No fighting.”

With a swift, deliberate movement, Thomas shifted to his right, positioning himself in front of John. He didn’t waste a moment, his finger darting out to point at John with the same intensity. “No fucking fighting,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. John's smirk faltered under Thomas's glare, replaced by a nod of compliance.

Thomas moved again, this time to Arthur. Their eyes met, and an unspoken tension filled the air. Arthur, ever the wild card, was the one Thomas needed to keep in check the most. Pointing at his older brother, Thomas's voice was a commandment. “No fighting.” Arthur, his usual bravado momentarily subdued, nodded with a grunt, understanding the gravity of the order. Next, Thomas’s eyes fell on Michael, who was leaning against the wall with a nonchalant air. Without a word, Thomas pointed at him. Michael straightened up, his casual demeanor replaced by a look of acknowledgement. The silent exchange spoke volumes—Michael knew exactly what was expected of him.

Finally, Thomas turned towards Finn’s direction, his youngest brother, “No,” he said, his voice slicing through the tension. He then swung his gaze back to Arthur’s direction. “Fucking.” And finally, his eyes landed on Charlie's direction. “Fighting.”

The room fell silent once more, the weight of Thomas’s words hanging heavily in the air. Each man understood the simplicity of the command. In this room, defying Thomas Shelby was not an option. Thomas took a drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light, and exhaled a plume of smoke. He walked towards his coat, which was draped over a chair between Michael and Arthur. “Good,” he muttered, his satisfaction evident in the single word. With his back turned slightly, Thomas didn’t see the butler approaching. The man, new to the household and unfamiliar with the Shelby way, hesitated for a moment too long. The collision was inevitable. The impact was sudden, and Thomas spun around, his face a mask of fury. “Get the fuck off me!” he snarled, shoving the butler to the ground. The bottle of wine the butler had been holding shattered on the floor, red liquid spreading like blood across the wood.

Arthur, ever the enforcer, hurled his glass at the butler, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. The butler scrambled to his feet, fear written all over his face as he hurried out of the kitchen, leaving behind a mess of broken glass and spilled wine. Thomas exhaled one last plume of smoke before stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. He adjusted his coat, smoothing out the fabric as he straightened up. “Right,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. “Let’s get this done.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, his family and comrades falling into step behind him. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway as they made their way towards the main event. Thomas’s mind was already racing ahead, planning, strategizing, ensuring that everything would go smoothly. But the words he had spoken in the kitchen lingered in the air, a solemn vow that no matter what happened, there would be no fighting. Not today.

As Thomas Shelby sat at the head of the table during his wedding dinner, the room was alive with the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversation. He raised the crystal glass to his lips, savoring the last drops of whiskey that burned pleasantly down his throat. Setting the glass down with a soft clink, his eyes swept across the room, taking in the faces of his family and the guests. His gaze lingered for a moment on his wife her beauty striking even in the dim candlelight. She was radiant, her smile lighting up the room. But as his eyes drifted to her father, he noticed the man's steely gaze fixed upon him. Thomas arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"You look absolutely stunning today, luv," Thomas remarked, his voice low and tinged with admiration. "Hard to keep me eyes off of you." He reached out to gently squeeze her hand, a small, affectionate gesture amidst the formality of the occasion.

"I can say the same for you, Mr. Shelby," she replied, her smile radiant as she returned his gaze, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Thomas smiled, a rare, genuine expression that softened his features. His attention then shifted to her father, a man of stature and presence, seated a bit farther down to her. "Well, you're not the only one whose eyes are on me, eh?" he quipped, a hint of playful charm in his voice.

"Luv," he murmured, leaning towards his wife, "would you mind telling your father to stop staring me down, eh?" His tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes.

His bride glanced nervously at her father, then back at Thomas. "Tommy, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice tinged with apprehension, "but that's just how he is."

Thomas nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I see," he replied, his voice low and measured. He leaned back in his chair, his mind working quickly. He was used to dealing with difficult situations, but this was his wedding day, a day that should have been free of such tensions.

There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of doubt in Thomas's eyes as he considered the weight of his actions. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he reached out and gently cupped her face in his hand. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he knew that this was where he belonged. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a silent declaration of his love and commitment. The room erupted into applause and cheers, the sound echoing off the walls as Thomas and Luka's families celebrated their union.

Hours had slipped by like fleeting ghosts since Thomas had exchanged vows, and now, in the quiet intimacy of their bedroom, he sat with his new wife perched gently on his lap. The flickering light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow, accentuating the soft features of her face and the delicate curves of her figure. He gazed at her, his eyes tracing every line, every contour, as if committing her beauty to memory.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Mrs. Shelby," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rasp that betrayed a hint of awe. His hands, calloused yet gentle, cradled her waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the fabric of her dress. The weight of her presence on his lap was a comfort, grounding him in the reality of this new chapter of his life.

"I like when you call me Mrs. Shelby," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. Her words were like a balm to his weary soul, a reminder of the new life they were beginning together.

Thomas wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair. It was a moment of peace amidst the chaos that always seemed to follow him.

"I like it too," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "It suits you, Mrs. Shelby."

"You're fuckin' perfect for me... y'know that?" Thomas's voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with sincerity. His hand reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. There was a gentleness in his touch, a rare vulnerability that he showed only to her.

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of their love and commitment to each other. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a shared connection that transcended words. Her hands roamed freely, exploring his body with a familiarity that spoke of countless nights spent together. Thomas pulled her closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist, holding her as if afraid she might slip away. Their kiss deepened, a silent communication of their love and desire for each other. It was a dance they knew well, a rhythm that was uniquely theirs. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further. His hair, usually so meticulously styled, was now a tousled mess, a testament to the passion between them. She loved the way his hair felt between her fingers, the way it seemed to have a life of its own.

They broke the kiss, but remained intertwined, her head resting against his chest, his chin on her shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the day's events slowly settling on their shoulders. The gravity of their new union was not lost on Thomas; he knew the responsibilities that came with it, the need to protect and provide for his new family. His mind drifted to the future, a future now entwined with hers. He thought of the challenges they would face, the dangers that lurked in the shadows of their world. But he also thought of the moments of joy, the simple pleasures they would share.

Author’s Notes:

Y’all, I fucking love this oneshot..it’s so cute I finally did my own rendition of the wedding scene..ahhhhhhhh I feel like I got it just right y’all..ahh it’s fucking cute!!!

Deadass I should have written smut but nah, I don’t feel like it

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