The Nine Muses

| 23 | - No Beta We Die Like Men - “you're a monster.” he hissed; she laughed and said,

[saintmuses]

❝𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙙.❞

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (requests)

❝𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧❞

the masterlist is dedicated to CM’s characters. all of my works are used in a fictitious manner. however, I do not own any character of any cinematography. the fics will be and already are 18+. that being said, minors do not interact with this blog.

𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 = ✞ | 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 = ♤ | 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 = ☾

𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙥𝙚 ❝𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞❞ 𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙖 ❝𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐚❞ 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙮𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙖 ❝𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫❞ 𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙤 ❝𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤❞ 𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙚 ❝𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫❞ 𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙥𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙚 ❝𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲❞ 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙖 ❝𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐥 𝐋𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬❞ 𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙚 ❝𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐭❞ 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙤 ❝𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬❞

𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤 ❝𝐓𝐨𝐦❞ (✞) - 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮 ❝𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐉𝐨𝐲❞ (✞) - 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙖 ❝𝐉𝐢𝐦❞ (✞, ☾) - 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙤𝙣 ❝𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲❞ (♤) - 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 ❝𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐧❞ (✞, ☾) - 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬

❝𝙢𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙚❞ - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞

I write for CM’s characters, and welcome any requests and ideas; check above to see what characters I write for. however, requests are not guaranteed to be written and fulfilled. as a writer, I do this for free and I don’t like being rushed, period. I will NOT write RPF because it feels weird to write a fic about a real life actor/actress in general. any requests being made, I will only write it as a drabble or up to 1k words.

❝𝙯𝙚𝙪𝙨❞ - 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫

I go by my pseudo name Saint or Muses. my pronouns are she/her/they. my star sign is Taurus, although I am not a true Taurus due to the other placements in my natal chart. I am an astrologer and an astronomy lover; I love the stars and everything in the universe.

❝𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙣❞ - 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬’ 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠

this is a safe place. I am not a therapist; however, I am here if you ever need to talk or vent, and I can try to give advice but only if you request for it (everyone is different). if there’s a hate message I will gladly exercise my right to use the block button because this blog does not welcome any negativity in here.

when I make PSA announcements, they will only be up for specific amount of time because nine times out of ten the posts hold information regarding upcoming one-shots.

(minors are not allowed to interact with this blog or the fics in any shape or form. as I stated above that it’s a 18+ blog.)

[paradiseprincesss-deactivated20]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬 | Cillian Murphy

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 — Are y'all sick of my "ushy gushy" smut yet? LOL. Also ya'll fw this new layout? I fear it's kinda cute and slay...

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — Cillian's wife and kids are out of town, and your parents are in Italy for the next month, leaving you home alone. What's the harm in getting close and spending some time with your slightly awkward, DILF neighbour?

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 — 3.3k

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 -> 18+ ONLY smut, age gap (unspecified but reader is in college, Cillian is late 40's), cheating on both ends lol, Cillian is married with kids but reader dont give a fuck like ok baddie

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Cillian watched you in your window from his window, in his home, across from yours. Curiosity gets the best of everyone; sometimes you just wonder what your neighbours get up to. 

That’s what Cillian was doing — he was just curious about what the young, beautiful, sweet college student next door was up to. His house faced yours, which meant if you left your curtains open, he could see into your home…but in the year you’ve lived across from him, it’s not like he’d ever seen you do anything except the most mundane things. 

Flipping through the pages of your textbook and taking notes, calling your friends on the phone and giggling at something they said, posing adorably for some selfies in your kitchen to send to god knows who or post to god knows where. He didn’t understand it, but it was cute, reminding him of the years so far behind him now. 

It was innocent…until it wasn’t. 

You moved from your hometown with your parents to Dublin, Ireland a year ago, leaving your life behind and attending college here instead. Cillian talked quite a bit with your parents, hence the whole “neighbours” thing, but he always found you to be sweet…and his wife and kids seemed to think so too.

Last week, you’d mentioned to his wife that your parents were going to Italy for the next month to travel, and he couldn’t help but find himself wondering what you’d do when you were home alone. Probably studying, she seems pretty invested in school, he thought. 

It was almost time for his kids to go to sleep, and he could hear his wife talking to them as she got them ready for bed, but he stood in his living room and watched you through your bedroom window. You were giggling on the phone with who he assumed were your friends, and he sighed to himself as he saw your youthful smile. He was reminiscent of his younger years as he watched you.

He observed as you threw your phone down for a second on your bed, before getting up and— 

His jaw went slack as he did a double take. You casually started to take your clothes off and tossed them onto the floor of your bedroom, but that’s not what caused him to lose his composure. 

His eyes widened and his heart rate accelerated as his blue eyes wandered all over your figure, watching you from the window and unable to look away as he took in the lacy, intricate and extremely sexy lingerie you were wearing under that baggy sweater you had on not even a minute ago. 

The see-through lace hugged your body beautifully, and the material allowed him to see your perky breasts through the sheerness of it. He almost choked when you bent over to grab your phone from your bed again, as the lingerie left pretty much nothing to the imagination. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled aloud to himself, feeling his cock starting to strain against his pants. This was wrong. Oh, it was so wrong — but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

He watched with a clear hard-on now as you held your phone up, giggling to yourself as you started to pose and take pictures in the lingerie, presumably sending them to some very lucky guy. Who were you sending them to? Who was getting to see your body up close like that? Who—

“Honey?” His wife’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned around as she came into the kitchen. He leaned against the island in the middle of his kitchen to hide how hard he was. God bless this kitchen counter, he thought. “What are you looking at? I kept calling you upstairs.” 

“Right, erm,” he coughed, clearing his throat and turning around to your window to see you were no longer in your room. It was just an empty, dimly lit bedroom in his view now. “Nothing. Thought I saw a deer or somethin’ in the yard.” 

His wife hummed in acknowledgment, clearly unaware that he was just basically participating in some form of voyeurism with the girl next door who was young enough to be his daughter.

“Don’t forget to drop the dog off next door tomorrow at noon,” his wife reminded him, and Cillian’s breath hitched at the reminder.

Fuck. He forgot that his wife and kids were going to visit his wife’s side of the family for the week. He couldn’t go due to a conflict in his work schedule, but he was going to drive them there and pick them up the following week. He also forgot that his wife asked you to watch Scout, the dog, for the day while he drove them up there. 

“Cillian?” His wife asked as she looked at him with a raised brow. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, I heard you,” he said as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll bring Scout over at noon tomorrow.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’d just tossed on your most cozy oversized sweater and some short-shorts as you headed downstairs, hearing knocking at your front door. As you swung the front door open, you saw Cillian standing there with Scout, who started to wag his tail happily. 

“Hey,” you smiled at him before you started petting Scout. “And hello to you too, Scout!” 

As you took the leash from Cillian, he looked flustered as he swallowed, giving you a small smile. “Thank you again for watching him.” 

“Oh, it’s really no issue!” You assured him with a friendly smile. “I’m home all day studying anyways, and my parents are out of town for the next month. I could use the company — plus, me and Scout are best buds anyways.”

Scout barked happily, and you continued to give him a few more pats. Cillian couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to last night; the image of you in your sexy, lace lingerie was still fresh in his mind. He cleared his throat, “Well, I’ll come and swing by around 6 to pick him up. Not too late, is it?”

“Gosh, not at all,” you giggled, letting Scout roam through your home as you started to close the door slightly. “I’ll be up late studying so…” 

“Thanks again,” Cillian said, waving goodbye to you as you shut the door softly.

Later on that day, once Cillian returned home after dropping his wife and kids off at his mother-in-law's house, he knocked on your front door once more to pick Scout up. 

You opened the door and smiled sweetly as soon as you saw him, “Hi, Cillian! How was the drive?” Your voice gave him butterflies, and he knew it was wrong, but after seeing you and what you got up to after dark, he couldn’t help it. 

“Ah, it was good — boring,” he joked, his smooth, Irish accent making you blush a bit as you handed him Scout’s leash, to which he handed you something as well. 

He handed you an iced coffee with a warm smile, “Here — just a little thank you for watching Scout. I remember you saying iced coffee was your favourite a while back, plus you mentioned you’d be studying all night…” 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You said sweetly, returning his warm smile, and taking the coffee from him. “But thank you, I could definitely use the caffeine.” 

You waved him off as he left with Scout and closed the front door behind you. As you got back to your kitchen, you felt yourself getting giddy for some reason after your interaction with him, though you tried to push it aside. He was just your much older, super attractive, neighbour — oh, and he was married with kids. 

You shook the thoughts out of your head as you placed the coffee down on your kitchen counter, suddenly noticing some scribbled letters on the side of the clear, plastic coffee cup. When you spun it around, you saw a handwritten message on it, and your heart stopped for a split second. 

Thank you, pretty girl :) 

You blinked a few times as you stared at it. Your eyes lingered on the handwriting, momentarily caught off guard. Was he just being friendly or was there an ulterior motive behind it? 

The following day, you returned home from your classes, and as you got out of your car, you noticed Cillian coincidentally unlocking the front door to his house with some grocery bags in hand. He glanced up as he pushed open his front door and saw you, a friendly smile crossed his expression. 

“Following me home?” He teased, and you giggled whilst you shook your head, textbooks in hand. 

“I mean, if I was following you, I’d definitely be trying to sneak a peek at what you’re cooking for dinner.”

Seizing the moment, he decided to just be bold with it. “Yeah? Why don’t you come over then?” 

“…What, like right now?” 

“You can tell me all about your classes while I cook dinner,” he replied innocently as you walked over to his front door. His words made you feel awfully juvenile…and excruciatingly hot and bothered. 

As you got comfortable in his kitchen, he unpacked the groceries and you sat on a barstool against his counter, watching the way his t-shirt was ever so slightly too tight against his arms and chest, showing his muscles off. 

“Make yourself comfortable. How does pasta sound?” 

“My favourite,” you giggled. “...So, do you always invite your neighbours over to help with dinner or am I just special?” 

Cillian glanced over his shoulder as he prepped the ingredients. “You’re definitely special. I’m not usually this straightforward, but something about you…” He trailed off and the unspoken tension lingered in the air. 

“Speaking of being ‘straightforward’ — I have to ask about that coffee from yesterday.” 

“Oh? What about it?” He feigned innocence. 

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice the cute note on the cup. ‘Thank you, pretty girl’? It definitely caught my attention...” 

“I’m glad it did,” he chuckled before pausing for a moment. “…I meant it, though. You’re very pretty.”

You looked at him with wide eyes, and he turned back to look at you again, his blue eyes making your breath hitch. “I– well, thanks,” you laughed thinly with a blush. “Sorry–I just didn’t expect you to think…I just…” 

His gaze continued to linger on you as his expression softened. “I hardly think you find this surprising considering you must get guys chasing after you all the time,” he said as he took a step closer to you. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve…noticed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you sensed some weight behind his words. “Oh? Noticed me how?” 

Cillian hesitated for a beat before he decided to push the boundaries, seeing how far this could go. How far you would allow him to take it. “I saw you the other night, through your window. Taking those pictures…”

You went wide-eyed as you let his words sink in. “You were watching me through my window?!” Your voice came out in a shocked whisper, and he bit his lip shamelessly.

“I didn’t mean to at first–” he choked out in an attempt to defend his behaviour. “But once I saw you I couldn’t look away…”

You paused, and the silence hung heavy in the air before you spoke up.

“Well, if you’re that curious, I could always show you the pictures. Or…” You swallowed as you looked at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I could just show what’s underneath my clothes right now...”

His eyes went wide and he got closer to you, hesitantly reaching his arm around your waist as he pulled you into him. His eyes darkened, breath catching on your words. He hesitated, clearly torn morally. “You know I’m married…” he whispered, but it seemed like he was attempting to remind himself that rather than telling you.

“Right…and I was sending those pictures to my boyfriend,” you casually replied. 

Cillian’s eyes flashed with something dark, a mixture of surprise and unspoken jealousy. His resolve broke completely, unable to hold back anymore. There was no point in pretending to resist now, and he let out a sigh as he cupped your face.

“So, we’re both breaking a few rules then?”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you looked up at him far too innocently for what was happening right now. “You know what they say about rules,” you whispered. “They’re meant to be broken.” 

Cillian suddenly closed the gap between you two, kissing you with a hunger that felt insatiable. His hands came to pull you right up against him, and you gasped into the kiss when you could feel how hard he was already. He’d barely even touched you. 

You kissed him back with a hunger that surprised you both, and your hands came to clutch onto his shirt. He backed you into the countertop, which started to dig into your back, but that was the last thing on your mind — him fucking you being the first. You continued to kiss each other feverishly until neither of you could stand the build-up anymore. 

Between sloppy, dirty, messy kisses and wandering hands all over one another’s bodies, he started to undress you right in the middle of his kitchen. You only hoped your other neighbours weren’t as “curious” as he was and god forbid they looked through his kitchen windows as he ran his warm hands all over you at this very moment.

“Shit,” he choked out when your clothes hit the floor, revealing some rather racy lingerie underneath. “Are you tryna’ kill me?” 

“Am I getting you all worked up?” You teased, as you ran your hands against his chest. “You know I’m young enough to be your daughter, right?” 

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you cupped his cock through his jeans. “That shouldn’t turn me on but, fuck, you keep talkin’ like that and I’m not gonna last…”

“We haven’t even fucked yet,” you giggled, pulling him in for another kiss. “Do me a favour — try not to give yourself a heart attack when you put it in, okay old man?” 

“Shut up,” he scoffed a laugh before kissing you passionately again. His hands snaked behind you, unclasping your sheer, lacy bra before it fell to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your matching panties. In retaliation, you got him out of his shirt before he turned you around and pressed you against the cold marble of his kitchen counter.  

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbled as he gave your ass a light slap, causing you to moan. He slowly pulled your panties down from behind you, letting out a groan as he took in the sight of your drooling cunt, all soaked and ready for him to fuck.

He hoisted one of your legs up onto the kitchen counter and placed one of his hands on your hips. You heard his belt being unbuckled and his jeans being unzipped as he pulled his throbbing cock out, the tip flushed and leaking. He inhaled sharply as he pumped his cock a few times with his hand, before running his fingers through your dripping folds. 

“Look at that,” he cooed by your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “All soaked and ready for this cock, yeah?”

“Fuck,” you sighed, feeling him poke your entrance with the tip of his cock. “Need you inside of me, please.”

“Yeah, I bet, baby,” he said softly before pushing himself into you fully with one swift, long thrust. You let out a strangled noise at how he stretched the walls of your cunt and he moaned as his hands found purchase on your hips. Cillian wasted no time as he started to rock his hips back and forth, his thick cock going in and out of your wet, warm hole with ease.

He watched in awe as he looked down at his cock disappearing into your pussy, all warm, tight, and wet for him. “You’re so– fuck, baby. God, you’re so much tighter than my wife.”

“Oh my god,” you whined, his words only making you wetter as you heard your pussy making those squelching sounds. “A-am I?”

“Fuck, yeah you are,” he agreed, ramming into you faster now. You let out choked moans as you felt him pound his thick cock into your cunt, the tip of him reaching the deepest places inside of you. “Takin’ my cock like a good little girl, aren’t ya honey?”

“M–hmmm,” you mindlessly babbled, cock-drunk on his thickness. “Your good little girl…” 

“That’s right,” he purred, slamming himself as hard as he possibly could into you. “You’re my fuckin’ girl.” 

“Yeah…” You sighed, your body going slack as you tightened up around him. You hadn’t realized how close you were, and his arms came to wrap around your chest, pulling you against him as he rammed himself up into you deeper. Your head went slack too as you let it fall back against his shoulders. 

“Gonna come?” He cooed softly as he noticed how fucked out you were starting to get. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock for me?” 

“Mmm,” you groaned as you saw stars, creaming his thick cock as you shut your eyes and continued to let him pound you senseless through your orgasm. “I’m…I–”

“And what was that earlier about me being old?” He joked as you failed to formulate a proper sentence, feeling himself about to come with you as he watched your mind go blank from his cock in your dripping, slick cunt. “Yeah, fuck — tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever felt.” 

Cillian felt himself pour his warm cum into your worn-out cunt, and he rested his head on your shoulder as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts from behind, still holding onto you tightly. The two of you were silent as you caught your breath in his kitchen, your body continuously being pressed up against his as he stayed buried deep inside of your hole. 

After a solid few minutes, he finally pulled out gently, making you whine. “Hang on, honey,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss behind your ear. “Let me get a cloth.” He grabbed a towel from a kitchen drawer as his cum ran down your leg and dripped out of your cunt, before wiping it up gently. 

As he cleaned you up, he turned you around and you got lost in his hypnotizing blue eyes again. He laughed under his breath, cupping your face with his hands. “You’re so pretty,” he breathed, taking in your youth, your beauty and…you. All of you. “Just…beautiful.”

You blushed, smiling up at him dopily with a sigh as you leaned into his touch. For a moment, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was an undeniable weight to it. His eyes said something…unspoken. 

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’ll…I’ll figure something out,” he murmured, voice steady with emotion. “About my marriage. About us. About everything”

“Cillian,” you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “You don’t have to–”

He shook his head, his thumb still brushing against your cheek. “I do because we’re already too close,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “Too close to go back, too close to pretend this doesn’t matter.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat at his words, your heart beating much faster now. He softly bumped his nose against yours as he left a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. “We’ve already crossed the line, crossed every boundary,” he whispered. 

“But your family—” You started, the weight of reality pressing in. You could easily break things off with your boyfriend, but he had much more at stake than you did.

He cut you off gently, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I know what I’m risking, but I can’t pretend this doesn’t matter. You matter to me,” he paused in thought before he pulled you in again, tangling his hands in your tussled hair. “Like you said; rules are meant to be broken. If we’ve already broken every rule, then what else do we have to lose?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

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[saintmuses]

❝𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙂𝙤𝙙, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝❞

Pairing:

Ghost!Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary:

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Those were the last words before her lack of knowledge of them ceased. You. Just one simple word for what the shadow of a man in her childhood’s home, Arrow House wanted.

Warning(s): SMUT. Dub-con. Implied age gap (obviously, but everyone’s grown). Mentions of death. Exophilia. P in V. Obsession. Depraved??? Possessive!Thomas. Major death at the end (gore-ish). Minors, dni! Note: They didn’t directly interacted when she was a child until she moved back in the house. I’m trying to go for Don’t Blame Me vibes.

Word Count: 5k

Act I

She could hear the wheels rumbling as the gravel hit the bottom of the vehicle they were driving away in. The sky was grey with dense clouds rolling through 

“Y/N?” Her mother’s voice grabbed her attention as the vehicle drove around the fountain, causing her to turn her head away from the window to her mother in the front passenger seat. 

Her mother gently clasped her hand with her nimble fingers, “it’s for the best, honey.” She said gently, looking at her with kind eyes that her heart clenched at the idea of leaving everything she had known behind to move to Northern Ireland for her father’s work.

O’ Children was playing on the radio, and her lips curled up in delight since it was one of her favorite songs she would force her father to play.

Hey, little train, wait for me!

I once was blind, but now I see.

She turned her head to look back to the house they were leaving behind, one of the hired staffs were moving their furnitures into the moving company vehicles, and she observed the state of the manor. Her eyes kept straying to the entrance door that was left wide open, and the stale light was spread throughout the hallway.

Her breathing was ribbed when she noted a translucent figure filling in the gap of the doorway. The figure resembled a man, towering over the domain of the threshold. 

A shadow, her mind whispered. Those words she did not understand, too young for her mind to understand what those words had meant. 

She was far away from the house that she could not tell the features of the man, however, she knew he was watching the vehicle slowly driving down the road past the gates as the house began to get smaller and smaller.

Strangely enough she’d swore she felt like she was leaving the shadow of the man behind.

Hey, little train, wait for me.

I was held in chains, but now I’m free.

Thirteen Years Later

Arrow House stood still as if time had never casted a spell on it, the only signs of the place being affected by time was the cascading vines on the side of the house, the stains on the glass panes of the windows, and the color of the bricks was dull as if the soul had left its host. 

She supposed it did because no one had lived in Arrow House for years.

Not since she was eleven years old and that was thirteen years ago.

She had no idea that the house was still under her parents’ possession, she had thought they sold it when they left the way they left the place.

Her parents died five years ago prior to Christmas, and Johnny Dogs took her in along with Curly who was his only roommate at that time.

For the life of her, she could not figure out why he had preferred to be called Johnny Dogs. He used to make jokes of how he felt like a reincarnated person, but really his parents would call him that.

She paused after placing her hand on the  handle before pushing it sideways to open the door. The hinges squeaked as she pushed inward into the stale hallway, brightly lit by the sun through the windows.

The parlor looked very empty, and lonely that she felt small standing in it. She heard her friends yelling at each other for instructions as they started taking things out of the vehicle.

Her eyes raked the place before her, taking the things that made her remember what she did in the parlor years ago.

As she reminisce, she heard a clang as it hit the floor, her head was drawn to the sound and she spotted an object.

A bronze bullet rolled on the floor as if someone had pushed it down the hallway towards the dining room. She walked towards it after it slowed down to a stop.

She bent over to pick it up, curious 

When she felt slight texture on smooth surface, she twisted the bullet until she saw the carving. She ran her thumb over the name that was etched in the metal.

Tommy

She frowned when she noticed the portrait that taken over the dining room, she had forgotten about it.

She used to play with her toys under the enormous portrait as if it was protecting her from any danger lurking in the dark shadows of the room.

She was surprised it was still on the wall, ageless, she knew what year it was painted; 1923. And yet the canvas did not turn yellow or it was lacking a layer of dust from decades of just hanging on the wall.

It was a figure of the man standing next to the white beautiful horse.

It felt like he was alive in the painting, staring down at her with eyes so cold and empty from the canvas. Iron clad control gripping the manor with the coldness in his gaze. She immediately pocketed the carved bullet into her jeans when she heard Curly’s voice, questioning about the portrait considering it was the only wall decoration hanging on the wall, every room and hallways in the manor were barren.

“I think we tried to take it down, but it refused to budge so we left it there.” She shrugged, frowning at Curly’s facial expression.

“It’s creepy,” he shuddered, letting out a light whimper before walking towards the entrance to return his tasks.

She rolled her eyes before turning to look at the portrait again.

She’d swore she saw a mere smirk curling on a stoic man’s face.

Perhaps Curly was right, the portrait was displaying creepy undertones.

Act II

The sun was barely rising above the horizon when she was dragged out of the bed due to the sounds of echoing loading off the weapon. 

Her fingers grappled onto the white curtains, and pushed it off to the side until she could see out of the bay window. She frowned when she only saw a heavy thick haze rolling around across the fields. She loved the morning dews, but hated the thick fogs in the morning.

The sun was coming up, but the fields were  in a state of stale gray and muddied in a way it would look like it came out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre film. The film gave her nightmares when she was younger until she grew up, and was able to get over her aversion of horror films.

However, she did not think she got over the aversion of paranormal activities that had been occurring in the last several days since they had moved into the manor.

She had sworn she saw a shadow gliding across the field. The shadow raised something in the air, aiming it at something.

She flinched when the sound of gunshots went off, her fingers dig into the material of the curtains as the fog thickened and then the gunshots stopped firing.

The walls were quite thin in a way where she could hear the door swinging open and hefty footsteps were being made on the hardwood floor on the other side of the house.

“Bloody hell was that?” She heard Johnny shouting down the hallway causing her to turn her head towards her bedroom door.

She tittered before returning her gaze back to the fields from afar, only to see it was empty of fog and it was coming alive in a sense as the sun casted its light on the fields.

She frowned. Had she been seeing things?

“Nothing!” She shouted back after she dragged the curtains to block out the morning light through the window.

Johnny dragged out a box onto the coffee table in the library. The box had a stale cream borders on the front of it along with the design of a board and a planchette, and thick letters in the style that resembled to the sixties or the seventies. A Ouija board.

“What is that?” She asked flatly, recognizing the box as she sat down on the soft threaded rug next to the coffee table. However, she waited for her friend to confirm it for her.

She eyed the box with distaste. She had never used one before because the idea of it was ridiculous. Not only that, but her mother had expressively forbidden the board in this house. Something about not wanting to draw spirits into their home. While Johnny lifted the lid of the box to set it up, she spent her time observing the environment around her. The walls were lined with shelves and books especially scholar books. 

The books on the shelves had not been touched in years that it was layered with dust and moth bites along with the smell of old parchment between pages. She loved the smell of old books, but she hated the smell of dust. She could tell when she was living in the house they only cleaned the ordinated desk and other furniture they actually used. The books were merely placed as decorations despite it had not moved in years since the previous owner’s -prior to her parents- death.

She heard Curly stepping into the library and she turned her head to see him eyeing the board set up fearfully. “I don’t know about this,” he mumbled, shifting his feet nervously. “I don’t want to disturb the spirits.”

“For the last time, Curly. It is not haunted.” She said sharply, eyeing him with slight annoyance. She loved Curly, but his thoughts would get the best of him. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

It still did not explain strange occurrences that had been happening around the manor, although she would never admitted to her friends.

The righteous indignant expressions would be sent to her way and she would never hear the end of it at all. She loved her boys, but they can be a little too much when paranoia would get the best of them.

“Oi! Are you trying to drive us out of here when we barely lived in this place?” Johnny complained before instructing Curly, “sit down.”

Curly sat down next to her by the coffee table after setting up the fireplace with a few wooden logs to start off with.

She plucked the planchette from Johnny’s grip, setting it on the board on the 'G' as the thin white paper instructed her. They each placed a hand on the piece as she read the instructions in her other hand.

“Johnny since you want to cause chaos tonight, why won’t you be the first to start us off.” She said flatly, Curly nodded in agreement.

Johnny gave them a glare before grumbling. “Are there any spirits with us tonight?”

For a moment, it was completely silent as they all waited with bated breath to see if the planchette would move. A minute ticked by, and then another.

“Are there any spirits with us in this room?” She asked firmly.

They waited for another minute before a strong smell began to overtake the surrounding.

She inhaled sharply, wrinkling her nose, recognizing the scent of tobacco burning from years prior when she was a child. None of her parents were smokers, and she had concluded it was one of the memories of the room. However her eyes widened when she felt the object beneath her fingers shifting.

The planchette moved to the word YES.

Her eyes shot at Johnny’s wide eyes before returning her gaze to the object. Curly whimpered next to her.

She hesitated before she asked, “what is your name?” 

The planchette moved slowly across the board as it targeted the letters.

It stopped on the letter in the middle on the second row, “T.” Then it barely moved to the first row and landed on the letter next to G, “H.” The next letter ended up on the letter “O” on the second row on the other side of the board, then the planchette landed on the last letter of the first row, “M” then it moved across the first row to the first letter which was “A”. At last it stopped on the letter on the second row next to T, “S.”

THOMAS

Tommy? She asked to herself, remembering the engraved name in the bullet sitting on top of her dresser.

“What do you want, Thomas?” She questioned shakily, remembering the ghosts would have their own unfinished businesses whether they were tethered to something.

YOU

It was a declaration. A warning, a reminder, and an order all in one. To her, it was just downright terrifying. Nevertheless, she snapped herself out of her daze of shock.

“We’re done,” she muttered indignantly, pushing herself off the floor until she stood then she snatched the board. The planchette flew off to the side due to the aggression she inflicted on the board.

“Wait! No-“ she heard Curly attempted to stop her.

“You have to say goodbye before-“

She threw the decorated laminated cardboard into the fireplace, and she ignored the commotion of Curly’s voice as it reached a shaky high pitch.

“I said we are done with it. It’s stupid, and pointless!” She glared at them before turning on her heels to storm out of the library.

She would never tell them that she was terrified.

Act III

With soft echoes of her footsteps as she reached to her bedroom, creaks radiating as to reflect the true age of the house she was currently residing in. She turned the brassy knob opening the door, but she frowned when she felt something different in the air. As if the air particles were stilted, as if it was disturbed.

With her eyes, she scanned the bedroom and something caught her gaze. She zeroed in the direction where there was something on the mattress.

She found a simple sheet on the edge of the bed, recognizing the parts of the poetry to one of her favorite collection of poems.

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang

I'm sure you all have read.

how they rob and steal;

and those who squeal,

are usually found dying or dead.

There's lots of untruths to these write-ups;

they're not as ruthless as that.

their nature is raw;

they hate all the law,

the stool pigeons, spotters and rats.

They call them cold-blooded killers

they say they are heartless and mean.

But I say this with pride

that I once knew Clyde,

when he was honest and upright and clean.

But the law fooled around;

kept taking him down,

and locking him up in a cell.

Till he said to me;

"I'll never be free,

so I'll meet a few of them in hell"

If they try to act like citizens

and rent them a nice little flat.

About the third night;

they're invited to fight,

by a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.

They don't think they're too smart or desperate

they know that the law always wins.

They've been shot at before;

but they do not ignore,

that death is the wages of sin.

Some day they'll go down together

they'll bury them side by side.

To few it'll be grief,

to the law a relief

but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

Her eyes widened when there was something made known of a presence when she felt one hand running firmly up the length of her back to rest on the back of her neck. 

The sound of the paper crinkling before it floated into the air as it fell down to the ground.

She was frozen at this point, not budging at all, her breath caught in her throat before her eyes closed and squeezed tightly as if she could make whatever was touching her disappear.

It had to be him. It had got to be. There were absolutely no explanations for what she had gone through in the last few hours. No, scratch that, for the last few days.

The one who turned her world upside down with its presence through what she had thought a simple silly game when it turned out it was not a child’s game to play. Absolutely not a game for children nor for someone like her or her beloved friends, Johnny and Curly.

She felt something lingering in the crook of her shoulder, and her breathing stilled even more when she felt what she recognized as a face nearing her neck, the tip of his nose ghosting on her skin before she felt his lips followed.

Immediately, she stepped away, her eyes wide as she slowly turned around to face the bay window of her bedroom, her chest now heaving to compensate for the painful chilling moment.

She blinked at the reflection of the wide glass panes pathetically, the moon casted its own light on her through the window. She felt completely out of place because there was no one there except the shadows of the night of the moon.

She was so fucking pretty.

He hadn’t been able to appreciate finer, beautiful things after his death. 

When he put a bullet in his own brain, ending his own cursed life. He hadn’t anticipated to return to the house that held nothing but stagnant moments with good times that were very few and far between.

He had thought about implanting explosives in the house and let it blow all up, to destroy a extensive piece of his past because he once believed that the past was the past and it wasn’t his to be concerned about anymore.

However, in that last moment before walking out of the godforsaken place, he had changed his mind and changed the orders for his men to remove it from the manor but he knew Lizzie and his son, Charlie would not come back to this place. He did not want them to, regardless.

Looking back prior to his death, he was relieved he did not destroy it.

For the fact the woman standing before his being was the reason he was able to experience her presence. 

For the past several days, he didn’t lose sight of her and followed her for a while, still hidden by the shadows of light and time except the trinkets and reminders he would leave around for her to find.

He would be there, chasing her down the corridors at night without her knowing.

When he was alive, he used women as a way to escape his mundane life despite it was filled with danger and enemies and never a moment to rest except in death.

He had experienced displeasure when his remaining siblings, Arthur, Finn and Ada agreed to sell Arrow House a few years after he died because it was too much for them to live in the house that held nothing for them anymore.

He had been pleasantly surprised by the fact he was able to enjoy her presence back when she was a child. He had enjoyed the presence of children when he was alive, but life got in the way of him being able to be the person he had wish to become. As a ghost, he hadn’t been able to surround children for the fact there were not many tenets with children. He had observed her throughout time, noticing how she was mindless to her surroundings, untouched by the cruelty of the world that bestowed since the dawn of time. It had made him feel protective of the child who played with her toys under the portrait in the dining hall. It was easier to keep an eye on her from the things that could potentially hurt her. 

He had never thought he would be angry with the thought of her and her family leaving the manor behind, forgotten as they moved onto the next chapter of their lives. No one in his life stayed for him, not in the way he wanted them to. He wanted them to stay for him, not for what he could provide. He felt the same way when the family left the manor despite him being a ghost.

Now time had passed and she got older while he stayed the same, frozen by the law of nature.

And she, she had come back to the manor when she had no reason to. He had felt alive and things had changed the moment he laid his eyes on her again when he saw her presence climbing out of a vehicle along with two men he had recognized in his previous life.

He traced his fingers across his trouser-cladded thigh. He had never thought he would be aching to slide his thick, heavy cock between her thighs that were exposed under her pajama shorts. 

He had never thought of her as anything but someone to protect. Until she stepped into the Arrow House again.

However, nothing could destroy the pleasure of the fact she chose his old room as her oasis, her bedroom, a room for her to find peace in her own space.

He leaned forward, easing himself around her figure, brushing his knuckles against her shoulder to stroke her warm skin gently.

He could touch her now. A touch-starved man was a dangerous beast.

Whatever it was thirteen years ago prior to her leaving, it was the past. It was glaringly obvious that the past was a different life. 

Far from this one.

A sudden predatory arm snaked around her waist causing a gasp from her lips. Out of pure instinct, her hands reached down and gripped tightly onto his forearm attempting to push it away. Snatching her back into his broad warm chest birthed a panic attack in her.

She was exactly where she dreaded being - right where he wanted her to be. She nearly forgot what it was like to be trapped within the dark embrace of any kind.

His muscles held her tightly like a second skin and yet brought an ounce of fear the woman had never felt before until she moved into the damn Arrow House.

Another gasp slipped from her mouth as he brought her head back with a slow but forceful movement of his hand, letting the crown of her head tip back against his shoulder. She trembled, keeping her eyes as straight as she could while her hands gripped onto him for life. The fear of the unknown made her head swirl as the thought of being completely hostage by him.

She tried her best to remind herself that she would not die because he was a goddamn shadow. However, she had seen too many poltergeist movies to know she could die.

She bit down on her lower lip to prevent any other sound from leaving her mouth until she felt it. His other hand crawled its way up to her stomach.

Feeling the weight of his fingers and palm drag slowly up her abdomen, he was unpredictable and that made this all the more worse. His nose now met the tip of her right ear, causing the girl to shiver as her eyes closed tightly. He nuzzled the smooth skin of her ear. All she could hear was his steady deep breathing, lightly rising with each movement of his chest, until a deep intentional breath filled her ears.

He was smelling her hair, releasing a deep exhale as if he could finally settle and she found herself frozen in place especially when she could see him now. 

Exactly like the man in the portrait in the dining room.

Thomas.

She tried to move her head, to avoid his lips, but he already had his hands out, chasing her face to close the distance. 

He embellished the feeling of her soft skin underneath the pads of his fingertips by gently grabbing the both sides of her pretty face.

A groan slipped out from his lips as it rumbled in his throat when he finally finally felt her lips with his own. Desperation that was brimming the moment he knew she could see him and touch him washed over him, and his hands immediately captured her face as he had found out he could touch her.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “Y/N, love.”

It was as if her fault for making him lose his breath, her fault for keeping them apart like this despite not knowing it was him was what drove her away, his lungs collapsed. He nibbled and bit her lower lip in punishment. Between sudden breaths, he worshipped her with his mouth and hands to the point of terror.

“Thomas,” she let out a protest, her fingers clenching his shoulders to push him away. Only there was no use.

Ignoring her, a growl pulling his lip ever so slightly as he captured her lips again in a searing kiss. Teeth catching onto her upper lip before opening his mouth to devour her bottom lip as well.

He spun her away from him before pushing her against the mattress while she had struggled against him.

Without letting her move, he had began to remove her clothes, and his eventually joined the pile. He didn’t care for anything but to be inside of her.

He pushed her flailing legs apart before nestling between them.

His cock was trailing up and down the folds of her cunt. The head got caught on her opening for just a moment and sent a shock of electrical pleasure throughout his entire body.

He rumbled lowly in his chest as the thick tip of his shaft pushed through the opening, making her inner muscles give out as he started pushing inside with the tilt of his hips. He grunted lowly into her neck as he slid into her the first time.

He moved slowly as he buried himself inside her pussy. The hot sensation enveloped his dick as he made her feel every inch of it, he was wanting to savor the moment since it had been years since he last had a warm cunt and it had never felt like this coming from the woman beneath him, but it all became too much to the point where he shoved in the last few inches instead.

He groaned when her cunt pulsed and clenched down on his shaft in response as she whined into the mattress. She may have not wanted it, but her body wanted more.

He was able to prop his arms beside her head as his thick cock was nestled deeply into her warm cunt before extricating his cock from her tight cunt and slammed back inside, forcing a sharp moan from her throat.

Thomas began thrusting into her with abandon, feral and animalistic. Her hands scrambled to hold onto something which ended up grasping onto his forearms instead. A part of him felt an undeniable need to claim her, to fuck her so hard and rough he would imprint upon her being. He needed to make sure she would never leave him.

He did not know what he was anymore. In this moment, he was nothing but a pure primitive being, redacting every piece of history from this moment to the dawn of time. 

Trying to claim his woman.

“God, look at you,” his voice came from above her, low and rough.

His knees were spread, resting on the outsides of both her legs, his feet hooked over her calves to accommodate the position which had spread her legs apart, forcing her to take him as the position gave him the leverage to pound down into her hard, slamming his hips into her ass with rough thrusts that borderline brutal. He would bet she could feel his heavy balls smacking down against her slicked cunt, and hear the loud, crude slapping sound it made. It only made him harder even more somehow as pleasure rolled down his spine due to the lewdness of the position. 

He loved how spread open she looked, how it felt to shove his cock into her warm cunt as he fucked her like an animal.

“Mine.” He rumbled, smirking when she didn’t say anything.

She seemed so small beneath him like this. He looked down at where his dick was swallowed by her pussy, he ended up grabbing her ass, his large hands gripped her flesh, and spread her open, groaning as he saw the way her folds were spread open by his cock and her cunt was wrapped tightly around him. 

One of his hands trailed up her spine, smirking when a shiver rolled down her back and settling in gripping the back of her neck as he move himself to hover over her writhing body.

With one hand finding the front of her throat, he pulled her closer against his chest as much as he could, pace not faltering once. He could feel her walls fluttered around his cock due to the possessive grasp he had on her throat. She was trembling, he nearly smiled with a feral expression as he had a hard time focusing on anything but her, the way he fucked her, pushing her closer to the edge. 

“Such a tight cunt, so perfect for me.” He rasped, his lips grazing her cheek.

Somewhere in the haze of pleasure that rolled through him, Thomas groaned as the grip on the base of her neck tightened; threatening to leave bruises as he thought about spilling his cum into her pussy. He shoved his cock so deeply inside of her that she collapsed with a startled cry where no one could tell the beginning and the end.

His weight was pinning her to the blankets as her cunt was flooded with his cum. She began to squirm beneath him once she realized there were flames licking the bedroom and smoke began to rise, but he kept her pinned where she was, sliding his cock back and forth in her warmth.

“Tommy,” she protested, attempting to crawl away from him, only he held her down firmly.

He swallowed thickly as he laid his head against the curve of her back, “there’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do when it comes to you, do you understand me?” Despite being a ghost, the warmth of her skin mingled with his as he felt the heat of the flames licking the curtains and the wallpapers as the fire began to spread around them, eventually consuming them.

Then she screamed as fire licked her skin, burning the flesh and he held her down in his arms, bounding her to him forever in death.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙨𝙤 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮❞

Pairing:

Thomas Shelby x Jurossi!Reader

Summary:

When he courted his first love Greta before the Great War, he met her younger sister; Y/N Jurossi. He took her under his wings after the war and she was the best thing that could have ever happened to someone like him.

Warning(s): Soft SMUT. Somewhat dub-con. Fluffy. Implied age gap (everyone’s grown). A pinch of dark theme, but it’s consensual. Implied minor corruption. Minor power imbalance. Fingering. Thomas being extremely soft towards Y/N. Daddy kink (so sorry). Minors, dni!

Word Count: 2.5k

“Bad day?” She asked quietly into his ear while wrapping her arms around his chest from behind.

"Hectic," Thomas said with a sigh, leaning back against her. Her warm breath caressed his ear. He would never tell anyone, but it felt nice to be held and comforted. "We're gettin’ more trouble at one of the factories. I've been tryin’ to straighten it out, but it seems nothin’ works," he muttered, shaking his head in frustration.

“You’re Thomas Shelby, you’ll figure it out.” She said soothingly, rubbing her hands on his shoulders to ease out the tension.

Thomas chuckled under her touch and relaxed into her embrace. “I know, but sometimes the weight of all this responsibility gets to me,” he admitted, “It’s nice to have someone here to keep me steady.”

She was confused because he had a family who could support him every step of the way. “What do you mean?” She asked. He looked up at her before dragging her into his lap making her yelp in surprise.

Thomas laughed softly. His hands wrapped around her frame, pulling her close. His chest rose and fell, his heart pounding against her.

“I just mean that you’ve been keepin’ me sane and grounded, keepin’ me from losing my mind ‘n all this mess.” He said softly, stroking her hair.

“Other than whiskey and cigarettes?” She asked, eyeing the Irish whiskey on the desk next to them. 

Thomas shrugged, “That helps too, but I prefer you.” He murmured, leaning in closer. His hands trailed down her back, pulling her body flush up against his. “You’re my favorite thing.”

She giggled, “well I hope you would choose me as number one over whiskey as your favorite thing on the list, it would be terrible if I’m number two.” She pouted with mischief in her eyes 

"Oi, I'd always choose you over any bottle of whiskey." He said with confidence, almost playfully. She was his favorite thing, his whole world. His hands caressed her soft skin, tracing their way up and down her body. He couldn't help it. He was intoxicated by her beauty. He craved her in so many ways. "You're my everythin’."

She blushed, “not even your siblings?” She questioned softly.

"Never," Tommy said firmly. He leaned in closely and stared deeply into her eyes. "No one could ever take your spot in me heart. I would never choose anyone over you. You're too special."

He had met her when he started courting Greta Jurossi before the war. He had thought she was a sweet little thing, but he had never saw her as anything other than Greta’s sister who was quiet and meek. 

It wasn’t until he received a letter from her in France during his days and nights digging and shoveling dirt to form tunnels underground and he had been surprised to see a letter from his past. 

She lost her parents to influenza that took over Europe and she had nowhere else to go. He did tell her after Greta died that if she needed anything, send him a letter and he would make sure she was taken care of.

When he came back as a different man, he knew he needed to take her under his wing because she was one thing in his past that was undamaged, untouched by many things.

Somewhere along the line, he fell in love with her.

She grinned at him before turning her head to see the dark liquid in a bottle and grabbed it before unscrewing the top. Raising the bottle to her lips, she took a delicate sip, swallowing it. 

Thomas’ heart skipped a beat as he watched her take the first sip of whiskey. Her eyes twinkled as she swallowed the liquid and licked her lips, her face brightening with a mischievous grin.

He had never seen anything so beautiful and so arousing. She was so bold, so daring, so alluring. His hands clenched into fists as he watched her.

He then reached for the bottom of the bottle, knowing she could handle as he tilted the bottle towards her lips, guiding the liquid into her mouth and watching her swallow it down flawlessly. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Every move she made was perfect, enchanting, and irresistible. The way she drank the whiskey down so easily, gulping it as if her life depended on it was so incredibly arousing.

He eased up on the bottle before putting it aside, placing it back on the desk, and collected her back into his arms. She mumbled unintelligible as he pushed her head into his neck.

He cradled her in his arms as she nuzzled against his neck. His grip tightened around her body as he pulled her closer. She was sleepy, and her words were nonsensical, but his embrace felt so right. It was as if it was where she belonged.

He buried his face in her neck and let out a sigh of contentment. The smell of her hair sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine. He couldn't get enough of her.

She giggled, trying to edge away from his face, “Tommy, that feels ticklish.” Her words slurred from exhaustion that flitted on her face as well.

He reluctantly pulled away from her neck and laughed softly. She was slightly tipsy, but she sounded cute when she was like this. He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes.

“Are you tellin’ me you’re lightweight, eh?” He asked, grinning, wanting an honest answer.

She hesitated before nodding. “I think so?” She giggled once more. “I mean I had two glasses of gin before checking on you, but you know what alcohol does to me.”

She seemed so adorable when she was exhausted like this. Thomas couldn't help but chuckle, enjoying her adorable tipsy and sleepy mannerisms. 

She did not get tipsy in the shape of getting drunk. Whenever she had too much, she would get sleepy.

He brushed back her hair, his hands roaming over her soft skin. "I think you are, my little sleepy baby," he whispered, trailing his fingers up her arms. Once he reached for her neck, he then chuckled and brushed her hair behind her ear, loving the way her eyes opened up, and she whimpered slightly.

"Is something wrong?" Thomas asked softly, his voice a little huskier than before. He was enjoying this way too much. His hands cupped her cheeks, slowly caressing her face. His touch was gentle but firm. "Are you not a sleepy little baby?"

“What would you call me if I’m not sleepy?” She pouted, eyes blinking innocently.

His lips twitched as he tried not to smile. He liked her when she was being sleepy, but he also loved it when she pouted. She was so cute and innocent, in total contrast to his fierce and powerful personality.

"You'll always be my baby." Thomas murmured, kissing her forehead. his hands slowly traced up and down her back, wanting to give her some sort of comfort yet also seeking something more from her.

Her pout shifted to a smile in response. Her eyes slowly blinked, lulling her head forward onto his shoulder. Her head rested on his shoulder, and for a moment, she seemed so innocent and sweet. He could tell she was a little tipsy, but something else was stirring within him. She was so vulnerable, so open to him. 

His hand ran across her cheeks softly, playing with her hair. His other hand rested firmly on her thigh, caressing the soft skin.

He lifted her onto the desk in front of him. She grumbled slightly when she felt a hard surface under her, but he laid her down on it gently before sitting down in the chair again.

Thomas couldn't help but chuckle again when she grumbled slightly after he laid her down on hard furniture.

Her presence next to him was so inviting. She smelled so intoxicating and she was so delicate. Her body was just begging to be touched, and he couldn't refuse.

“You are so pretty,” he whispered in her ear, his breath caressing her neck.

She felt his hand trailing from her shoulder, down between her sternum, down her abdomen until he reached the hem of her night gown. He dragged the fabric of her night gown up her thighs until her abdomen was revealed, exposing her in her underwear. 

Thomas’ fingers trailed along her body, exploring it in such intimate and bold ways. It felt so good to be able to touch her without any limitations. 

Her body was so fragile. He had never felt anything soft as her. His fingers glided along her skin, his hands rubbing up and down her sides and down her thighs. Curling his fingers around her calves, he gripped them to maneuver her legs until they were propped on the wooden arms of the chair with her feet flat on the surface, the position made her thighs spread apart. She gasped when his hand ran from her calves towards her thighs then ran over her underwear, trying to feel her through the fabric.

Thomas’ hand caressed her thigh, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric covering her skin. He loved the way she would gasp whenever his hands touched her. 

He wanted to see how much it would take to make her lose her restraint. He pulled back slightly, caressing everything but the skin under her underwear. He made her sweat a little before finally sliding his fingers underneath it.

She felt him curling his fingers to pull the fabric aside, exposing her cunt to his hungry gaze.

“What are you doing, Tommy?” she mumbled the question.

"What does it look like, eh?" Tommy's voice was low and husky as he looked her up and down, studying her body with his eyes. She was so vulnerable and innocent.

He was taking advantage of that. This was his girl, and he was going to let himself enjoy her.

"Just lettin’ myself enjoy every inch of your perfection," Thomas said softly as his fingers began to trace her folds, feeling the slickness of her arousal on the pads of his fingers.

She whimpered as she felt his fingers parting her folds and slid a finger excruciatingly slow into her. “Da-“ she cut herself off, feeling embarrassed through her sleepy-addled brain.

"Did you just try to call me daddy?" Thomas asked softly, although he was a tad bit surprised by the name, but he enjoyed watching the look of embarrassment on her face. She was so easily embarrassed, and it gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. 

He was loving the way that she was responding to him. It was as if her drunk sleepy body was submitting to him, letting him explore every inch of her.

“N-no.” She lied, flushing slightly as she began to mumble incoherently under her breath.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart," Thomas said, smiling. He moved closer to her face. If she was too embarrassed to speak, he would read from her body. Her facial expression gave away everything she was feeling right now.

His index finger joined his middle finger, and his fingers explored her more deeply as he looked into her eyes, wanting to see how much she could handle.

“Would you honestly like it if I call you that?” She asked quietly, arching her back slightly.

"Oh, I would love that," Thomas said immediately, not even wasting a moment to think. He didn't care about his pride when it came to her. She gave him the opportunity to take care of her, and she was so submissive to him right now. ”Do it, my girl," he softly commanded, running his fingers along the walls of her cunt before curling up to touch the spongy surface.

She gasped, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Daddy,” she breathed, swallowing inaudibly.

His lips curled into a satisfied smile; he was pleased to hear that particular word coming from her. He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, his fingers continuing to explore her intimately.

She whined, her eyes were still unfocused, but she had a semi strung out look on her face before biting down her lip to hold back noises as he continued to touch her.

His fingers slowly traced between her folds, exploring every inch of her there. His fingertips ran up and down, making her squirm and whimper. She was so sensitive, and so easily aroused. His touch sent a jolt of pleasure to the tip of her pleasure spectrum, and she couldn't contain her body from writhing.

She whimpered. “Daddy,” it was almost in a slur in response to his ministrations.

"That’sa good girl," Thomas muttered softly, his voice huskier than before. He couldn't get enough of this. Her submission to him had awakened something dark and devious within him. He wanted to take advantage of it. "Do you like this, my naughty girl?"

“Y-yes.” She whined. He looked down at her slick cunt and praised her.

"It's so perfect," Thomas whispered, taking a moment to look her in the eyes, his fingers slowing down just a little. He was enjoying her responses to his touch, but he wanted to prolong this a little longer so he could explore every single inch of her.

“What is?” She whimpered.

"Your pretty cunt," he answered softly, trailing his fingers along her thighs again. The way she squirmed and whimpered with every touch gave him a rush of adrenaline.

Thomas had never felt this turned on in his entire life. Every sound that came from her mouth turned him on even more. Her responses drove him over the edge. Her whimpers were like music to him. The music he thought he did not want to hear since the war.

His fingers glided back and forth between her folds, tracing the skin of her cunt softly.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the feeling. 

"You're so pretty when you get like this, my girl," Thomas whispered. He couldn't help but look down at her face to see her expression. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she looked so vulnerable. She couldn't resist him in this tiredness mind of a state, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

She felt him lean in closer to her, his breath on her face as he rumbled softly at her. 

“Daddy,” she whimpered when she felt his nose nuzzling her nose.

“What is it, baby?”

“I love you,” she whined softly to him, sighing at his closeness.

His breath caught in his throat at her words. She couldn't have said anything nicer or better to him. Her words made everything more real, and he couldn't stand it because he knew he did not deserve her. However, he was a selfish bastard after all, and the war had taken too much from him. He deserved this one thing.

He brought her face closer to his, his breath still trembling, his voice sounding softer. "I love you too, baby," he whispered softly.

He saw her head lolling back on the surface of the desk, and he couldn't resist the urge to lean in and kiss her lips gently. His fingers brushed against her cheeks tenderly as he caressed her face with his hand. It was as if she was the only thing that mattered in this fucked up world.

[darerendevil]

[saintmuses]

❝𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙠❞

Pairing:

Neil Lewis x Reader x Emmett

Summary:

Whenever Emmett was not working, he loved to spend his time with his nephew’s best friend eventually being caught.

Warning(s): SMUT. Dub-con. P in V. Implied cock-warming. Somnophilia. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 712

Emmett remembered her standing on the sidelines cheering her best friend on in friendly baseball games from cookouts they would have during hot summers. It was his favorite part of going to gatherings other than his nephew playing.

He managed to convince her to come over while Neil was working at the Gumshoe Video store because it was not often she would go over to his place without her best friend despite the fact Neil had been living there as well.

He hadn’t counted for Neil to get off work from the video store earlier than planned. His eyes were wide comically, redness crept up on the skin of his neck, his ears were tinted with deep redness that made Emmett smirk. 

He was shifting her on his softened cock, “do you want her?”

The question was met with instant denial, and he would have accepted the answer if it wasn’t tainted with longing and lust.

He ended Neil’s stammering excuse tirade, “Neil, you don’t fool me one bit.” He said gruffly, looking at his pale face despite his cheeks being red. “You want her. You always have.”

He knew with the sight of a slump of his nephew’s shoulders, he was defeated by his own wants, albeit perverse desires. His lips curled in slight victory as Neil edged closer to the bed.

“You’ll have to deal with my…” he trailed off, gesturing to the cum that had been inside her for a while when she was riding him with her ass for him to grab onto to see how his cock was disappearing in her warm tight pussy.

“I don’t care,” Neil whispered before reaching out to touch her face reverently.

Maybe he’s desperate. Emmett mused to himself as Neil grabbed her face gently.

“I-I don’t want to wake her,” the words were spoken in a hush tone, Neil looked at him nervously.

“You won’t.” He assured him despite his nephew’s skepticism in his gaze.

Leaning in, Neil pressed his lips against her unmoving lips gently before withdrawing from her.

Slipping out of her gently, Emmett dragged himself up until he was propping against the bed frame, he was able to turn her body around to face his nephew. He then dragged her docile body into his arms, wrapping his hands around her legs to spread her apart. Neil’s eyes immediately zeroed onto her exposed messy cunt. 

Emmett heard the belt clinking as Neil was unbuckling his belt before he unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his underwear.

Despite Emmett already holding Y/N’s thighs apart by her hamstrings, Neil still placed his hands on her thighs to root himself to her after he climbed onto the bed between their legs.

“Oh,” he released a pathetic moan as he pushed his cock into her deeply, scrunching up his face in pleasure. Mouth parted slightly deliriously as his eyes rolled back into his head. He didn’t care if his cock was mingling and forcing Emmett’s spend out of her, all he cared about was the fact he finally had the taste of his best friend’s pussy.

His nephew’s eyes fluttered open at the small sound that she made. Though she was sleeping, it didn’t stop the noises from emitting from her throat which caused Neil to become desperate, pushing in deeper.

Neil's hands wrapped around her hips, enjoying the way her pussy felt.

As Emmett held her legs in place for Neil, his nephew’s movements became even more aggressive—dare he say even more dominant. His thrusts became even more swift than before and his desperation grew wild.

They both heard her gasping as her eyes shot open. Emmett could tell she was looking down where Neil’s cock stayed frozen inside of her pussy. She stuttered as incomprehension filled her tone. “What’s happening?”

Emmett’s lips quirked slightly at her reaction, as Neil pulled her closer to his body. His fingers flexed as they tightened around her thighs as he looked into his nephew’s eyes which were filled with nervousness, but Neil’s hips could not stand still as he started thrusting again.

"Don't worry, it's okay," Emmett whispered as he moved his fingers through her hair. "You're just takin’ care of your best friend," he murmured, telling her the truth.

[paradiseprincesss-deactivated20]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Guess | Tom (The Party)

summary — you suspect that your dad's best friend is stealing your panties…and you can’t help but play into it.

warnings — panty stealing fetish/kink, smut, p in v, oral (m!receiving) unspecified age gap, pervert!tom sort of but like not entirely

word count — 2.2k

masterlist

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You watched your dad as he talked to his lifelong best friend, Tom, about the game that was on TV earlier. Your dad had known him for since he was in college himself, so he was a true friend to your family through and through.

As you reached into the fridge to grab a bottle of water in your favourite pink pyjama set, your dad excused himself from the kitchen, leaving you and Tom alone.

It was never awkward with him, though, having known him for so long. In fact, as of recently, you almost felt this sort of…tension between the two of you whenever he came over. You tried to reason with yourself about it — he was your dad's best friend and he was significantly older than you, so there should be no reason for you to feel this way towards him. There should be no “tension” at all.

But ever since your panties started to go missing each time he came over, you had a feeling all that palpable tension wasn’t there for no reason. 

Ever since you were younger, you'd always found Tom to be “good looking,” per se, but ever since his divorce and since you started college, you started to find him really attractive.

Every single time he’d come over, you’d get irrevocably turned on. You even started to have vivid fantasies about him, especially at night, and you found yourself wishing his fingers were touching your aching cunt instead of your own.

So, consequently, each time you saw him, your underwear always had a little damp patch on them from how wet he made you, meaning you had to constantly go excuse yourself to change into a different pair. You couldn’t help it — it’s not your fault that he was so god damn attractive without even trying. 

But then things...changed. You started to notice that every time you went upstairs to go change your panties, it seemed you could never find the pair you had been wearing prior, even after looking for them for like twenty minutes. You swore you threw them into your hamper, but then when you checked, they weren’t there. 

About two months ago, you threw your favourite lacy black pair with the little bows into your laundry hamper which you kept in your room. After reapplying your lip gloss in the bathroom, you saw Tom come out of your bedroom. As he was about to go back downstairs, you saw him casually stuffing something into his pocket — black and lacy — before sneaking off downstairs, unaware that you’d just seen him do something so filthy. 

But if it was so filthy, then why did it turn you on so badly? 

You’d suspected that he may have been stealing your panties, but to actually see him doing it had butterflies erupting in your chest.

Naturally, after you found out — you started to play into it. You’d leave a pair of lacy, baby pink underwear hanging from your hamper then asking him to get something upstairs in your bedroom for you, or you’d “accidentally” drop something on the floor, only to bend over and give him a little glimpse of what was underneath your shorts.

You wanted him to see how wet he’d gotten you.

Hell, you even got so ballsy with it that one time, you actually stuffed a pair of your panties into his coat pocket before he went back home — but neither of you ever happened to bring it up afterwards.

As you stood in the kitchen wearing your pink pyjamas, throwing him an innocent smile as you sipped on your water, his eyes immediately went to your lips, then to your very short pyjama shorts, and then finally back up to your face. 

“You’re up late,” he mused, “I thought you had classes in the morning?”

“I’m surprised you remember,” you said, biting your lip as you found it rather endearing that he even remembered your class schedule from when you told him ages ago. “I have a reading break, so I have the rest of the week off."

He hummed in acknowledgement, peering over his shoulder, presumably seeing where your dad had gone. “Your father had to take an important call, I reckon,” Tom said softly with a shrug. “Somethin’ about work…”

You nodded, not sure what else to say after finding out that Tom had quite literally been stealing and stuffing your underwear into his pockets...and that he knew that you knew.

But to you, it just made it all the more thrilling. 

The thought alone was enough to make you wet again — then suddenly, an idea struck you.

“I’ll be right back, just gonna go change into something warmer. I’m kinda cold,” you said innocently, and you noticed the way his blue eyes almost lit up when you mentioned you were going to get changed. 

“Alright,” he responded casually.

As you got upstairs, you quickly took off your underwear — a pretty, pink, lacy pair — before putting your pink pyjamas back on. No, you weren’t actually cold, you just wanted to see if you could catch him stuffing his pockets again…

So you tossed your damp panties (all thanks to Tom) into your hamper before making your way back downstairs. Tom was stood in the kitchen like he was five minutes ago, and you could hear your dad talking to someone on the phone in his office. Clearly he’d be wrapped up with that for the next little while. 

“Thought you were cold?” Tom gestured to your pyjamas which you hadn’t changed out of.

“Actually, once I got upstairs I realized I was actually a little hot,” you said before “accidentally” knocking an apple out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen island. “Oops.” 

You bent down to grab the apple off of the kitchen floor, causing your shorts to ride up and show the outline of your soaking cunt, which by the way, left a small little wet patch on your pyjamas. The way he had you dripping like a leaking faucet should've been criminal.

“Christ,” you heard Tom breathe out from behind you, “erm…I’m just going to go use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” 

You looked over your shoulder at him as he excused himself and hurried upstairs, causing you to smirk as you placed the apple back into the fruit bowl. You followed him upstairs after a few minutes, noticing how your bedroom door was cracked open slightly. 

You made your way to the door, pushing it open quietly as your eyes widened at what you were met with.

In your bedroom, Tom was on your bed, his thick cock being fisted by his right hand with your lacy pink panties in the other. You knew he had a thing for your underwear, but you didn’t realize he was actually hanging onto them while he jerked off. 

“Tom?” You asked softly, causing him to startle and immediately turn red as you closed the door behind you.

“Fuck— shit, I’m sorry—“ he tried to cover himself with a frilly pillow from your bed, but you weren’t having it. You went over to him, yanking the pillow from his hands, making him let out a choked sound. “What are you doing?!“

“Keep going,” you encouraged softly, your bottom lip between your teeth as you crawled onto your bed. “I wanna watch.” 

He looked like he’d seen a ghost as he froze for a few moments, before slowly starting to stroke his length again, blue eyes locked on yours as his brows were furrowed. “You’re so dirty,” you teased, getting between his legs, “dirty old man.” 

He let out a breathy groan under his breath — but it was true. You were so much younger than him, and yet here he was, stealing your panties and then coming to them. Coming to the thought of you.

He pictured you so many times while fisting his cock, the way you’d look in your underwear, posing for him, especially in those skimpy little lace ones. The way your pretty lips would look wrapped around his cock; how you’d lick it, spit on it, choke on it…

“Why don’t you – fuck — have a taste, sweetheart?” he suggested, making your cheeks heat up. You crawled between his legs, resting on your stomach as you reached over to replace his hand with yours. 

Gently, you wrapped your hand around this thick, veiny cock before popping him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He let out a moan, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. His hips bucked up, causing you to choke on his cock, making him curse under his breath as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this — it’s like you were made to suck cock, baby,” he praised you while breaching your throat barrier, making tears well up in your eyes. You continued to use your hand, moving it up and down his cock while you took him in your mouth. 

After you deepthroated him a few more times, you took his cock out of your mouth, letting out a big gasp for air as you did so. Tom looked at you with glossy eyes like he was drunk off of the feeling of you. 

“You’re disgusting,” you found yourself saying, but you were undressing as the words left your lips. “Like, you’re actually fucking gross — stealing my panties and jerking off to them? Are you kidding me?”

“What’s disgusting is that you actually like it,” he smirked, eying you carefully as you stripped down into nothing. The second you were naked, he pressed you down on the bed, stomach pressed up against the mattress with a pillow underneath to prop your ass up. “How wet am I making you if you're having to change your panties every time I come over?"

He stroked his cock a few times, tossing his blazer off into the corner of the room carelessly, before lining his fat cock head up with your soaked entrance. He teased your dripping folds with his cock, “I’d always try and guess what colour panties you were wearing. Then you'd bend over and I would get to see if my guess was accurate."

Before you could respond, he suddenly pushed into your cunt with little resistance, splitting you in two with just how thick he was alone. His length stretched you out, causing you to let out a choked mewl as he let out a low groan, fucking you relentlessly into the mattress as he pulled your hair back. “You’re such a dirty little girl,” he growled, “you wanted me so badly — mm, fuck. That’s a tight pussy.” 

“Uh-huh,” you said, your mind going numb, “y-yeah, fuck— Tom! Fuck, Tom!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he cooed mockingly. “I bet you love getting fucked stupid, don’t you? Is this what you wanted? Say it, baby.” 

“Yes!” you wailed. “Yes, ugh, fuck! I wanted you to see how w-wet – mmph!” 

“Come on,” he encouraged, fucking you deeper as he held you up by your hair almost painfully. “Spit it out.”

“I wanted you to see how wet – my god – you made me!” you screamed, feeling his cock spear you so deeply, you thought your insides were being rearranged. “I’m gonna cum, oh my god—”

“Already?” he teased, ramming your tight little cunt with as much strength as he could. “You’re so cute.” 

“Tom, I—“ 

You barely got the words out as you came all over his cock, coating him with your juices as you whined and moaned his name over and over again. “Good girl, fuck—“ he choked out, feeling your cunt clench down on him as your release washed over you. 

“I’m not gonna last either, your pussy’s so tight. Jesus, baby,” he said lowly, fucking you harder, plowing your abused little hole faster. “Gonna fuckin’ fill this cunt, s'all mine.”

He continued to thrust into you from behind, hands still gripping your hair so that he could get a look at your pretty face while he did so. You were a shaking mess at this point, but he continued to ram his thick cock deeper, causing you to let out hoarse screams and inaudible sounds. 

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, hips stuttering as he slammed himself into you over and over again. “Yeah, that’s it — fuck.”

You moaned as you felt the heat pool in your stomach, his warm seed filling you raw as he let go of your hair finally. Your head hit the pillows softly and you propped yourself up onto your elbows gently as he stilled in your abused hole, now stuffed with his cum. 

“So good for me, baby,” he said, pulling out of you as he watched his cum drip out of your cunt, smearing onto your inner thighs.

You let out a soft sigh before your dad started to call out your name from downstairs — you only prayed that by the grace of god, he was too wrapped up in his call to notice that his best friend had his daughter pressed up against a mattress upstairs while ruining her. 

“One second!” You shouted, scrambling to get up as Tom got dressed with you. Rummaging around your dresser drawers, you tried to find your favourite skimpy, red underwear but Tom called your name out softly, causing you to look over your shoulder at him. 

He held up the red lace panties you were looking for, but then he shoved them into his pocket, smirking at you before reaching for the doorknob, his face slightly flushed and his hair tousled.

“If you want these back, then you're gonna have to come over to my place tonight and come get them from me, baby."

ੈ✩‧₊˚

taglist

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[saintmuses]

Sksksksksksk 🫣 the way it instantly became one of my favorites

[saintmuses]

❝𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙩❞

Pairing:

Judge!Jonathan Crane x Wife!Reader

Summary:

The ‘courtroom’ to him had always felt like a circus filled with jokers and clowns in formation of criminals. The only pure thing in the room was sitting in his lap; his little wife.

Warning(s): SMUT. P in V. Exhibitionism and implied voyeurism. Daddy kink (so sorry). Implied power imbalance. Flirting. Minor fluff. Implied possessive!Jonathan. Slight degradation (?). Minors, dni! Note: Judge Crane is such a daddy so sorry not sorry for indulging daddy kink.

Word Count: 1.9k

Jonathan immediately noticed his wife’s blush and chuckled again. He loved making his wife feel shy, even after five months of marriage, and he made sure to wrap his arm around her while she nestled in his lap.

“Is someone ashamed that she’s a vicious little kitty cat?” Jonathan asked her lovingly, making sure to tease her a little bit.

His smirk grew wider as his wife hid her face in his arm. He loved this side of her so much, the innocent, timid woman who needed to be reassured. Only by him.

“That’s right,” he teased her a bit more, “hide your face. You look even cuter that way.”

“Stop it.” She mumbled shyly.

Jonathan smiled as he brought his wife closer to him, leaning down to whisper something into her ear. “Does my wife want her husband to stop being flirty with her?” He whispered the question as sensually as he could, making sure she could feel his breath on her neck as he spoke.

She shuddered when he said my wife, it sent a spark of pleasure when she was classified as his. “I do love it when you’re flirty, but you’re teasing me because you think me being embarrassed about what I did is cute.” She pouted, grumbling.

“But it is cute, my love,” Jonathan replied, “I think you are the cutest kitten when you get all embarrassed and shy.” He placed a peck on her lips, making sure that he kissed her slowly and passionately. “My adorable, silly, little wife…” he teased.

Something inside of her snapped. “Daddy,” she whined in a low tone. It was the first time she had ever called him that, and it made her extremely shy when she realized what she had called him all because of his words.

Jonathan froze in his seat once his brain registered with what his wife called him, suddenly feeling aroused. He had been craving this moment for so long — something like that was the ultimate act of submission to him, despite her being naturally submissive.

“Did I hear my wife right?” he asked her softly, his voice full of affection but also mixed with a small tinge of darkness.

It took her a minute, but she nodded into his chest, embarrassed.

Jonathan chuckled darkly as his wife hid her head in his chest. “It seems my little wife wants me to play with her…” He pulled her closer into him once more and kissed her neck, his teeth nibbling and his tongue licking her skin playfully.

“Stop calling me that,” she whined, desperately trying to stop herself from calling him daddy again.

“Oh, but I love the way it rolls off my tongue…” Jonathan whispered, his voice twinged with deep sense of darkness. “Tell me to stop calling you what, my dear?” He kissed her neck as he spoke, his words dripping in sultriness and pure desire.

“Stop calling me your little wife,” she shuddered, letting out a little gasp.

Jonathan smirked as he heard how those words affected her which exposed her weakness for it, and he took full advantage of it.

“Oh, I see, my little wife doesn’t like it when I call her that?” he teased as he nibbled on her neck with his teeth, his lips touching her skin with just the right amount of pressure.

She whimpered; her rationality disappeared after he called her that. “Daddy.”

Jonathan felt shudders wracking her body and he laughed softly. He could feel his wife entering her submissive headspace to him as he toyed with her using words that targeted her emotionally. “That’s what I thought. My little wife wants to be daddy’s good girl.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as blood began to rush under her skin. Burying her face into his chest to hide her flushed face.

“But what happens to my little wife when she’s naughty?” Jonathan asked her, nibbling her neck a little harder as he spoke. “After all, I do have to discipline her when she’s disobedient.”

She began to stutter, “I ca-“ but she was interrupted by the loud murmuring from the audience, and she froze finally remembering where they were at. 

Jonathan felt his wife freeze up as the murmuring filled the air. He looked around at the audience, taking notice of their whispers. “Seems the audience has something to say…” he muttered, irritated that the crowd broke their little own world, they knew better than to do that. He looked back at his wife in his lap. “Should I punish them for their murmuring? Would my little wife like to see that?”

She shook her head. “Just make them come back in an hour or something.” She begged silently.

Jonathan smirked at her begging. She truly was his little wife, so shy and vulnerable to his demands and her own desires.

“As you wish my dear.” He declared, “all will return in thirty minutes.” He didn’t really mind. His wife needed her private time with him. His fingers curved around the wooden handle to bang the gravel to declare its finality.

As the audience left, he leaned back and pulled her closer tightly into his lap, pressing his body into her. Jonathan felt her thighs begin to slick with arousal -she was wearing a summer dress- as he held her close to him, his voice getting deep and raspy as he whispered to her. "That's right, my little wife." He nibbled on her ear and whispered a little louder so only she could hear him. "Let your daddy take care of you."

She whined loudly, reaching for his belt. She quickly unbuckled it and unzipped his trousers before reaching in his underwear to draw his shaft out.

Jonathan smirked at his wife’s desperation and lack of control. He knew that he owned this woman, body, and soul.

"My, my. Are we moving a little fast, my little wife? Are you sure that you want to do this here?" he asked her with a low chuckle. "Or would you prefer for daddy to take you home?" Jonathan had a smirk on his face, his teeth grazing her collarbone as he held her.

“If you had stopped calling me your little wife, I wouldn’t be doing this.” She accused softly without any heat.

Jonathan couldn't help but chuckle darkly, “but you wouldn't want me to stop calling you my little wife, now would you?" He then leaned forward to bite down on her collarbone, his teeth sinking in and drawing blood with a small nip. "I just love the way it sounds, my little wife."

She cried softly as she shifted her dampened underwear over the side to sink onto his thick shaft. She gripped onto his shoulders and whimpered at the size as she sunk down onto him. She had never taken him in this position where she was on top of him in the chair. 

Jonathan smiled at her pleas for him, and the inaudible words fell from her lips like honey.

He helped push her down on top of his cock, relishing the heat that was wrapped around his.

She started bouncing on top of him, repeatedly saying daddy in his ear. She was mentally gone as her submissive headspace took over her mind as her cunt took him.

Jonathan’s hands gripping onto her hips as she bounced on top of him. 

“My, my. So obedient and submissive. Such a good little wife you are for me, d’you hear me?” He sighed in pleasure before pulling her back down onto him. “Let daddy take care of you." He cooed softly.

She whined when she tried to bounce some more but his hands kept her in place. “Daddy?” She questioned but he only guided her head to his neck then gripped the back of her neck while gripping her by her waist.

Jonathan smirked at her when she was confused as to what his intention was. He loved seeing her like this, completely and utterly submissive to him.

He started to move at a slow, but brutal pace, pounding up into his wife without any mercy.

She reached to grapple his shoulders because she felt like she was being torn into pieces with his forceful thrusts. “Daddy!” She gasped, holding onto him as he was slamming up into her without holding back.

Jonathan inhaled sharply as he heard her whimpers and felt her fingers gripping his shoulders. He started to pound even harder, with such force that the chair underneath him began to shudder.

“Yes?” He asked teasingly in response to her pleas. “Is daddy breaking my little wife? Does she want daddy to stop?”

“Never!” She shook her head, nuzzling into his neck.

Jonathan couldn’t help but chuckle as he felt her nuzzle into his neck in a clear desperation.

He knew his wife would never ask him to stop once he started — he’d be the one deciding when it would end, and only him.

Her eyes opened wide to see the clock on the wall in front of her. “They’re coming back in five minutes.” She hissed softly, moaning at a certain thrust he forced up into her cunt.

Jonathan tsked softly as he saw the fear fill his wife’s eyes from her sudden realization that they could be caught.

“Oh, no….” he whispered, kissing her neck before nibbling it seductively and playfully. “Does my little wife want daddy to stop what he’s doing? Is she afraid because they might catch daddy fucking her?”

“Aren’t you going to stop when they come in,” she asked him, gripping his shoulders when she felt him quickening his pace.

“No,” Jonathan muttered softly with a smirk, raising his eyebrow. “You are mine, little wife. I know that you enjoy this and that you don’t want me to stop. I can feel your body wanting more, needing more. Daddy has no reason to stop, you understand this, my dear?”

She whimpered in return. “I-“ but she couldn’t finish the sentence because the feeling of him fucking her was overwhelming her.

Jonathan felt her whimpers shaking her body and he smirked darkly — this was the moment he had been waiting for. His mouth was right by her ear so he could whisper softly, seductively, “My little wife just needs her daddy’s attention, that’s all.”

He started to pound up into her even faster, his hand on the back of her neck holding her to him in place. Little noises erupted from his throat in grunts and groans.

She heard the door opening and the audience piling into the court room to return back to their seats on each side of the room. She bit down her bottom lip to muffle the noises that wanted to escape from her throat as she began to get flustered at the idea

Jonathan heard the bystanders murmuring, making his smirk grow wider. What better way could he show dominance over his wife than by having the crowd see her as she was — his personal toy.

His pace slowed a little bit to keep them interested, his free hand reaching up to grab the back of his wife’s head, fingers tangling in her strands before jerking her head backwards.

Jonathan gave a nasty smirk when she gasped with flushed cheeks, his face now visible to the crowd so that they could see him owning his precious little wife.

He pressed his wife’s body into him as he looked over at the crowd that finally settled down in their places. “My wife and I still have business to deal with, go sit down,” he softly commanded.

Jonathan smiled at the sound of his wife’s cries, and he looked down at the makeshift courtroom as he kept pounding into her cunt hard before turning his face to her.

“Do they know what you need, my little wife?” he asked softly, his voice dripping darkly as he taunted her. “Do they see what you become when daddy plays with you?”

[cm-edits]

[cillmurphyslover]

Hot

[junior-stargazer-goke30]

Sunshine (2007)

Director: Danny Boyle

Cinematographer: Alwin H. Küchler

[mothhball]

Dark! Tom (from the party) has had a thing for Janet and Bill’s barely legal neighbor for so long. So at their party, while everyone else is drunk and too oblivious, Tom follows her outside and ((;

THE PARTY FAVOR

DARK!TOM X FEM!READER

summary Tasked with congratulating Janet in your parent's name, you head over to hand over a party favor. But a bottle of champagne isn't the only thing that's being thirsted over tonight.

warnings Tom is a little gross in this lmao. But it's Dark!Tom, so what do you expect 🥴💦 Big age difference!! (Reader is freshly 18, Tom is in his late thirties) P in V , unprotected, hints of drug use, foul language, alcohol consumption, cheating

notes Whoops, this got a little longer than I planned! my last little gift before I go on vacation lmao <3 tysm for requesting this, anon! I had fun writing this! Please turn a blind eye to any mistakes, I'm tired aaaaa

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 2.9k

“God, I haven’t seen you in years.”

You tense up at the voice, turning around to stare at a familiar face. You were just in the middle of hyping yourself up to even knock on the door when said door opened, leaving you unprepared and caught off-guard like a deer in the headlights. But it’s not the person you expected. No, instead of the expected Janet, her friend April is staring back at you, throwing a wrench into your plans. See, you’re here on a mission. A mission with easy instructions.

Your parents left a bottle of champagne and a greeting card on the counter before they went to the theater, asking you to head over to your neighbors Bill and Janet to congratulate them on Janet’s ministerial appointment. But now, you’re already going off-course.

“April… lovely to see you,” you smile at her, nodding down towards the gift you brought. But before April can respond, Janet’s voice can be heard from inside.

“Who is it?”

“Your neighbor. The little one. Well, not so little anymore.” April gives you a once-over, not even pretending to be cordial with you. In a way, it’s admirable of her. She never bends over backwards to please people, and she definitely has no trouble speaking her mind. If only she wasn’t such a fucking hater.

Janet joins her in the doorway, looking at you with an expression that’s both relieved and distressed. If you’re the deer in the headlights, she’s the deer that has already made acquaintance with the hood of a bulky SUV.

“Oh, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to come over, honestly. So lovely to see you. How are your parents?” Janet begins, raising her voice a little to drown out an argument that’s happening inside. You can see the forced smile, the exhaustion in every line on her face. And then, to both April’s and your surprise, Janet invites you inside with a wave of her hand. This wasn’t the plan. Not at all. You’re supposed to hand over the bottle and card and leave. Leave. Going inside the damn house definitely wasn’t part of your instructions.

“Uhm… Look, Janet, if this is a bad time –“ You try to decline, only to be cut off by the hostess of the party.

“No, no. Don’t be silly. Please, come in.” She notices your skeptical glance past her into the house, realizing that, despite her best efforts, you must’ve heard the last syllables of the argument that happened in the living room. Still, Janet puts on a brave face, desperate to play the part of the overjoyed, newly elected minister. The silence between you drags on for a few more seconds before she steps aside to make the invitation even more clear.

“Please,” she repeats, and this time it sounds like a plea you’re too polite to ignore.

The house feels off. You've been over a few times before, and the place has never once felt this… depressing. The living room reeks of misery, and you get the feeling that you stumbled into something you shouldn't be a part of. But now you're here, still clutching the bottle of champagne and the greeting card. There's a little stain on the red envelope, caused by your clammy hands digging into the paper, but you just assume that Janet won’t care.

You’re proven right when she takes the gift from you, only to immediately set the card aside in favor of opening the bottle of champagne. As she pours enough glasses for everyone, she tentatively tries to make conversation.

“I heard it was your birthday? You’re 18 now, aren’t you? God, what an age… So young. And so full of joy…” she trails off for a moment, and you witness in real time how her expression falls and twists into something pained and dejected. Then she catches herself and clears her throat, quickly replacing her sullen demeanor with something more cheerful. A typical politician.

“Well, happy belated birthday.”

Everyone else is stuck in their own thoughts, quietly muttering their congratulations, and you’re once again reminded why you never join the celebrations whenever your parents receive an invitation from Janet. You grace the group with a tight-lipped smile, downing your glass of champagne and accepting a refill.

The slam of the bathroom door almost causes you to drop your drink, and as you look up, you’re met by the sight of Tom stomping back into the room. You pause, unable to stop your eyes as they rake across his form, taking in the tension that has captivated every cell in his body. His forehead is covered by a thin layer of sweat, and his usually neat hair is tousled, plucked apart by skittish hands. You also don’t miss the way he hurriedly rubs the tip of his finger over his gums.

Tom clears his throat, straightening his ridiculously expensive suit jacket as he approaches you, and he meets your gaze with a look of recognition in his baby blues. Out of everyone in this dreadful group of characters, it’s him you get along with the most. At least you did, back when you last spoke and the air didn’t feel as thick as fucking tar. Something about Tom’s arrival only causes the tension to worsen, and you flinch as Janet’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“And your parents? Going on vacation, are they?”

You blink at her, taking a moment to digest the absolute whiplash this entire situation is giving you. This feels hellish, in a way. As if you’ve wandered into your own spinoff of Dante’s Inferno, desperate to crawl out of this ring of hell and back to your room to try and forget this ever happened.

“Yeah… They’re leaving for Italy in two days. Turin. For three weeks.”

Janet nods, looking absent as you answer the question she asked in the first place, and you awkwardly sip on your glass as she starts a new topic without acknowledging your response. You can feel Tom seething next to you as Janet speaks, radiating a nasty energy that’s seemingly directed at the host, sitting not too far away on a chair in the middle of the room. Tom’s jaw clenches, and you can practically hear how his teeth grind together.

Finally, he snaps.

“Are we going to pretend that nothing happened? Are we seriously going to pretend that Bill didn’t fuck my wife?”

The room immediately falls silent, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. So that was the topic of the earlier argument. You look at him, and he scoffs, turning away from the group.

“God, I –“ He cuts himself off, running his hands through his hair and down his face as if he’s trying to wipe the turmoil and exhaustion off his skin. Obviously, to no avail. “I need some air.”

Some minutes pass, and you feel incredibly out of place as another argument starts within the group, only getting worse with every glass of champagne—and now wine—that’s being chugged by everyone involved. You clear your throat, trying make yourself known.

“I should go as well. Uhm… it’s been nice. Congrats again, Janet.”

The woman in question doesn’t even notice that you’re slinking away from the party, too busy glaring daggers into her husband while Bill is talking about Marianne, Tom’s beautiful wife. Good lord, you’ve never felt more relieved to leave someone’s home.

Outside, you march through the small backyard, heading straight to the little gate that separates your property from your neighbor’s, and you’re almost back within your comfort zone when a voice stops you.

“Hey. Come… Come here for a moment.” You look over your shoulder, spotting Tom as he’s leaning against the wall next to the dustbins, head in his hands. Torn between your desire to leave and the empathy you feel for the man, you hesitate for a breath before you approach him.

“Are you alright? I can’t imagine…”

Without answering, Tom lifts the lid off one of the dustbins, revealing a gun sitting pretty among the trash. You can feel the blood draining from your face, and you recoil, breath hitching within your throat.

“Jesus Christ – “

“Shh, shh! I know. Just –“ Tom cuts himself off, raising his hands in an effort to calm you down. When you’re just looking at him instead of running, he lets out a sigh of utter devastation. “You know I can’t do this. And I won’t, but... I… I found out this morning that Bill…”

He shakes his head, unable to finish his sentence, and your heart twists a little as you see the tears welling up in his eyes. In an attempt to comfort him, you reach out to set a gentle hand on his shoulder, which causes him to crumble even more. Tom lets out a choked scoff, shaking his head as his anger grows alongside the grief and disappointment.

“And I’ve always been faithful! I never cheated on Marianne! Even though I’ve had plenty of opportunities! Even… God, even with you around, I’ve always… always kept a grip on myself.”

He sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, before he meets your eyes again, and you startle. There’s still anger in his eyes. But another emotion has joined in as well, filling his gaze with something dark and hungry that causes you to pull your hand back again.

Suddenly, you’re very aware of your situation.

“I’m sick of pretending. Sick of denying myself. I’m a man too, god damnit.”

He’s quick to snatch you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in against his frame. You know you should struggle. You should tell him off. But you’d be a liar if you claimed that he had never once crossed your mind late at night. Tom is the kind of man who inspires your hands whenever you touch yourself. His face is the one you imagine hovering above yours when you’re knuckle-deep in your pretty little pussy.

“Wait, I –“ You try to speak, but he’s quick to maneuver you up against the wall, pressing you against brick and mortar and trapping you in place with his body.

“No. I’ve waited long enough.” He grits his teeth, catching both your wrists to pin them behind yourself over the small of your back and hold them in place with one of his larger hands. “Do you know how hard it was? To see you prancing around… I was always scared you’d have a boyfriend when you turned 18. Lucky me.”

You swallow hard, letting out a squeak as his free hand reaches around to pull up your shirt and bra, revealing your soft skin to the mild air and his eager fingers. Tom rolls one of your nipples between his pointer and thumb, tugging the hardening bud before he moves onto the next one, and you can hear how shaky his breath is getting as he continues to grope your tits. You squirm at a particularly harsh tug, causing him to press you up further against the wall, immobilizing you completely as he undoes his belt and zipper.

His deft hands take care of your jeans and panties next, opening them and pulling them down as much as he needs to gain access to your sweet cunt.

“Tom…” you whine, feeling the head of his cock brushing up against your dripping slit. He grunts in response, not bothering to hear you out as he sinks his length into your velvety folds, causing his breath to shudder against the shell of your ear. You wince, letting out a soft noise of discomfort as he pushes deeper, rolling his hips against yours to set a shallow rhythm.

“You can take it. Look at how fucking wet you are. You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”

You want to protest, but right as you open your mouth, he aims a rough thrust up against that delicious sweet spot within your cunt, luring a filthy noise from your lips that only spurs him on even more. Tom still has your arms restrained, picking up the pace of his thrusts as he stretches you open on his cock, getting your tight walls used to his girth.

His fingers push into your mouth, middle and ring pressing down on your tongue to make you gag and whimper simultaneously. Every time he shoves his fingers deeper, your body tenses and drool dribbles down your chin, right onto your exposed tits. It’s rough and fast, overwhelming you in more ways than one. Tom grunts into the crook of your neck, panting against your skin like a man possessed only by the desire to claim, to mark, to own.

The wedding ring still sitting around his finger clinks against your teeth, and you cringe, letting out a soft whine of discomfort that’s quickly shushed by the man behind you.

“Shh… Just be a good girl for me, yeah? Fuck, you squeeze my cock so well when you gag on my fingers…”

He pounds his hips against yours in quick, deep thrusts, fucking his cock into your cunt at an angle that makes your toes curl and your knees buckle. In that moment, you’re grateful that he chose to take you against the brick wall since you’re heavily relying on the structure and Tom’s grip on you to stay upright.

“And you’re so sweet… You don’t care about my job, right? No, you don’t. You’re not like Marianne. Always being so fucking sentimental on her high horse.”

He spits out the words, silencing any further comments from himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The rhythm of his thrusts quickens as he chases his high, and his hand finally releases your wrists to instead reach between your thighs to rub insistent circles around your clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure draws a wail from your lips, and Tom pulls his fingers free from your mouth to instead stifle any noises more effectively with the palm of his hand. His mouth is next to your ear, allowing you to hear every rasp of his breath and the subtle whine of his voice.

“You’re going to cum for me, right? You’re going to finish nice and quietly like a good girl on my cock, hm? Yes, you are.”

He uses his grip over your jaw to make you nod, and he hums in approval as he meets your hazy eyes. Slowly, the pace of his fingers on your clit builds into a crescendo, and his gaze never once strays away from your face. Like a man dying of thirst, Tom drinks in every twitch in your expression, every breathy groan that’s muffled by his hand. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours right as you cream all over his length, twitching while he fucks you through your climax. Groaning, he removes his hand from your jaw to hold onto the flesh of your hips, pistoning into your fluttering cunt even faster, harder, more desperately.

Finally, his thrusts grow erratic, and he pulls out of you at the very last second, reaching for your panties to shoot his thick cum all over the soft fabric. Tilting his head back, he swallows hard as he milks himself dry with a few more pumps of his hand before he releases his grip on you. You slump against the wall, trying to catch your breath while Tom straightens out his appearance.

“This was… worth the wait,” he pants out, reaching into his pocket to pull out a marker. He kneels down, holding onto your knee, while he writes his phone number on the inside of your thigh, marking your skin with the black ink.

“Text me when your parents are in Venice. Or Turin. Or wherever the fuck they’re going.”

You nod back at him, whispering a small "alright,"  which makes him pause. He gets back up to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before he takes off his wedding ring and drops it into the dustbin right next to the gun. Your eyes meet again, and his expression softens for a split second before he leaves to get back into the house, throwing himself back into the dreadful party and leaving you behind to walk back home with shaky legs and sticky underwear.

Two days later, your parents finally leave for their trip. You follow them to the doorstep, watch with baited breath as luggage is crammed into the family car and the GPS is set up. Then, after the exchange of hugs and goodbyes; after your mom hands you 50 quid as an extra allowance and she waves to you out of the window as your dad starts the motor, they drive off and leave you alone. The house feels dreadfully empty as you close the door and lean against the frame. A minute goes by. Then another.

Eventually, you reach for your phone and open the contact you shouldn’t have saved.

“I’m home alone.”

Sent. Received. Read. For a moment, there’s nothing. You bite the nail of your thumb, grappling with the possibility that he regrets what happened and is now trying to avoid you. And maybe that would be for the best. Maybe you’d be able to move past it and make peace with the fact that you’ll never be able to feel those hands on your skin again. But then those little dots pop up. He’s typing. He’s responding.

“Good girl. I’m coming over.”

@ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24

@detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411

@ashdrinksoatmilk @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines

@hanawrites404 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @nocturnest @biblicallyaccuratebee @red-riding-wood

@luvlloyd @smxkyqvxrtz @bloodandglitter207 @rosiemarieyn @sagepixie

@paradiseprincesss @vegasisthinking @ilovedottore @cillianslvt @strangeobsessed

@ryecosse @ribbonystar @calicoartie

[saintmuses]

Sksksksksksksk

[saintmuses]

❝𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜❞

Pairing:

Soft!Dark!Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary:

Thomas had successfully convinced his older brother to end the relationship with her so he could have her all to himself.

Warning(s): SMUT. Dub-con. Fingering. praises. Somnophilia. Breeding kink. Pure Filthy. Reader’s tipsy. Possessive!Thomas. Depraved!Thomas. Soft!Thomas. P in V. Flashback in italics. Minors, dni.

Word Count: 1.4k

Thomas chuckled softly as he watched her slowly drift off to drunk-induced sleep.

He then undressed slowly, his eyes never leaving her delicate nude form on the bed. After he took all articles of clothing off, he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself above her, his hard length pressing against her body.

Thomas had been searching for her for weeks, his mind constantly wandering back to their last encounter. He was not exactly surprised to find her at a pub, looking slightly tipsy. After all, his brother ended the courtship with her.

He walked over to her table, his eyes drinking her in. "Well, well.” 

She stiffened after hearing his voice, and she slowly looked up at him, eyes unfocused. "No." She lifted the half full glass  of whiskey in her hand, preparing to swallow the harsh liquid.

He exhaled a chuckle, leaning down to grab her unoccupied wrist gently, bringing her hand towards his mouth. She tried to jerk her hand out of his grip, but he did not let her. "Don't be like that," he purred, his lips brushing against her knuckles as he spoke. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

The next time she tried to remove her hand from his hold, he surprisingly released it. “You don’t approve of the relationship between me and Arthur that you convinced him to end the relationship with me…the fact he listens to you…well, that would be his downfall someday.” She stated before slamming the glass down on the table, making the table shake from the force.

He laughed softly, leaning back in his chair. "You wound me, darling," he said, feigning hurt. "After those encounters you two had with each other that I got to witnessed, you can't honestly tell me you’re not the right person for him?"

She chose not to answer him, instead of leveling his eyes filled with amusement with a glare of her own.

"Well, then," he smirked, reaching under the table and grabbing her ankle, his fingers trailing up her leg teasingly. "Perhaps I had the right to tell him."

"I'm too drunk to deal with you," she muttered, barely flinching at the surprise sensation of his hand on her leg.

"You're never too drunk for me," he replied, lifting her leg and placing it on his lap. He started massaging her calf slowly, his fingers deftly tracing patterns on her skin.

She sighed unwillingly as the muscle tension began to dissipate. "People are looking at us because they're wondering why Thomas Shelby is nice."

He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to work their magic on her leg. "They're wrong," he murmured. "I can be very nice...when I want to be." His hand moved up her thigh, the touch growing more intimate as he spoke.

She jerked her leg out of his wandering hand, before pushing her chair backwards, standing up. "If you want to be a gentleman, you better walk me home because it's night time, and I don't trust people out there." She said sharply before stumbling away from the table. She paused before turning to him, “nor do I trust you.” 

He watched her leave, a mix of amusement and annoyance flashing across his face. Standing up, he quickly caught up with her, his hand gently guiding her back towards him. "Come now, love," he purred. "There's no need to be like that."

Letting her go, Thomas walked beside her, his eyes roaming over her figure hungrily. "I jus’ want to make sure you get home safe," he said, his voice low.

Once they arrived at the door of her flat, she dug her hand into her purse, searching blindly for the key.

Despite her not speaking mostly on the way to her flat, it did not deter him.

“You should let me in,” he leaned in closer, his breath fanning against her ear as he spoke.

“No, I don’t.” She got the key out of her purse, and turned the brass knob. "You can go now." she said sharply, slurring a bit.

Thomas groaned softly as he continued to touch and explore her body. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, massaging them gently before tweaking her nipples between his fingers. His other hand slipped down to her stomach, teasingly stroking the bare skin there. 

“The reason I had him end the relationship is because I want you all to myself.” He murmured softly. “I’m a greedy man.”

Thomas' hand moved lower, tracing a path down her stomach towards her belly button. He lightly teased the tiny indentation with his fingertip before trailing lower still, down towards her hidden folds.

Thomas' voice was rough with lust as he whispered in her ear. "I want to breed you, my little darling. Your cunt is mine and I'll stuff it with me cum."

He looked down at her pussy as he pushed her knees towards her chest.

Thomas' eyes darkened as he looked down at her exposed pussy. "You're so beautiful," he breathed out, his voice husky with desire. "I could spend all night just worshiping this perfect little cunt." He then leveled his hips where his cock would meet her pussy.

Thomas groaned loudly as he pushed his thick cockhead against her tight entrance. He took a moment to savor the feeling of being so close to her before pushing forward, slowly sinking deeper into her wet pussy.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, discomfort flitted across her face and he paused, his hips stilling inside of her. "Little darling," he whispered softly, nuzzling his face into her neck. "Sweetheart, I need to fuck you properly, make you mine because I need you."

Thomas' hips began to move again, pulling almost completely out of her before slamming back in, burying himself deep within her cunt. He set a hard, punishing pace, claiming her as his own with each powerful thrust.

Thomas' breathing grew heavier as he pounded into her. He couldn't resist the tight grip she had on him, the way her body moved with his every push. Her sleeping state only added to the perverse thrill for him.

As Thomas continued to pound into her, his cock swelled even more, growing larger inside of her. It stretched and filled every inch of her tight pussy, claiming it as its own. He groaned loudly in pleasure and desire for more.

Thomas couldn't seem to get enough. His hips continued to slam against hers in a frenzy of lust and possession.

"You're mine, you know?" Thomas whispered into her ear, his voice filled with possessive affection as he kept pounding away at her exhausted body. "You belong to me now, little darling, forever and always." As his pace slowed down slightly but his thrusts still remained deep and powerful, Thomas whispered praises against her neck, his warm breath tickling her sensitive skin. He called her his good girl over and over again, as if he couldn't believe he had found such a perfect match in her.

With one final thrust, Thomas filled her cunt to the brim with his cum and held onto her tight, still buried deep inside of her for several seconds. As he slowly pulled out, he allowed his thick cum to drip out of her pussy like ribbons of his possessiveness.

Thomas' eyes darkened with satisfaction as he looked down at his hand, feeling the slick evidence of his possession on his fingers. He then placed his palm flat against her stomach, still trying to catch his breath.

"Look at that," he purred, his voice husky with desire. "Me cock has stretched out your pretty pussy just the way it should be." He leaned down to peer at her stretched abused hole, his purr turning into a low growl of appreciation.

Thomas glanced at her discarded clothes and picked up her underwear. He put her legs through the holes of her shorts and pulled it until it laid tightly against her cum-filled cunt with a low growl of possession. "There you go, little darling. Me cum will keep that hole nice and warm for me..."

He crawled up her sleeping body.

"You've been such a good girl for me," Thomas whispered softly, pressing gentle kisses all over her sleepy face. His touch was tender and caring now, the roughness from before fading away as he nuzzled against her neck.

Thomas pressed his lips against her lips, the gentleness of his kiss a stark contrast to the rough passion he had just infused into his little darling.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

Pairing:

Soft!dark!Thomas Shelby x Ada’s BSF!Reader

Summary:

What started out as a fantastic night out at Eden club in London ended tragically for her.

Warning(s): Angst. Slightly dub-con (unwanted kiss). Death. Violence. Minors, dni! Note: last part of the mini series.

Word Count: 661

She could remember it in some ways where the memories began to solidify in flashes, a montage of the massacre of one man that happened at Eden Club.

She remembered being happy while drinking gin in a fancy glass, laughing at what her husband had jest.

She was happy, with a thin gold band wrapped around her ring finger, shiny under the golden hues of the lights at the club.

They had eloped so quickly in the morning, quickly that they couldn’t stand still and take it all in that they were getting married on a piece of paper. Perhaps they should’ve stayed and taken it all in slowly if she had known this was going to be their last night together.

The music ending sounded like the death march when a mass of storm came barreling, destroying everything they had touched.

“Tommy, no!” She screamed, voices erupted around them in a frenzy, but refused to intervene.

He was cruel. Just like everything about him. His eyes, pale blue, were encrusted in ice. Crystallizing the already frozen water, but his aura felt like death. It reeked of grim reaper, desperate to ensnare a living breathing soul.

It was crystal clear when blood was being spilled across the fancy tiles on the floor, splattered all over her and all over the man whose face was covered in hues of furiousness.

If she had thought or been asked what he would’ve done to declare her husband’s death, she would’ve thought or said he would’ve used a bullet in the gun he favored in his holster.

Not his bare hands, never his bare hands.

Perhaps he felt a bullet going through the brain or the heart was too simple, too kind, an act of mercy that she knew Thomas rarely gave out unless he had a bleeding heart in that moment which was very few and very far between.

It ended with his hand gripping the cap in a death-like vice, swinging across her husband’s face and neck, severely splitting his flesh and everything underneath into a snarly mess.

Her heart stopped at the sight of death in his eyes when he finally turned his head to face her. 

Nothing gold can stay under the golden hues of light of the club she had thought was her temporary Garden of Eden, but the serpent had entered and destroyed it with death with venom of blades that could be found sewn on his cap and poison from his fists.

“That must have been a new record, a bride and a widow in one day.” He muttered bitterly, coldly. It may have been said at a normal low tone, but to her he might as well have shouted them at her because those words hurt.

“Fuck you, Thomas!” She cried out, tears dripping down her flushed cheeks. She felt sick.

She could not stand the sight of him anymore, and she turned away from him, intending to run away again.

She was jerked back by him by a vice-like grip on her arm, and she was spun around to face him.

Her lips curled into a grimace when she felt slick fingers gripping her jaw, she could feel her husband’s blood smearing into her skin.

“I warned you,” he murmured, then she flinched at the next words. “I fuckin’ warned you, didn’t I? Eh?” He shouted in her face, eyes blazing with fury. His fingers digging into her bicep, for sure there were going to be finger shaped bruises in the morning.

“You will learn, Y/N. No one fucking touches you, or speak to you, or even marry you and live.” He hissed, nearly frothing at his mouth before closing in.

Unlike before where it was a purposeful act of brushing while she was unwilling, he forced his lips onto her still unwilling ones.

She swore she could taste blood, Edward’s blood on his lips, and her heart stopped for the second time that hour.

act i | ❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

act ii | ❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

act iii | ❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

[goth-butt]

just play the bloody hands

[saintmuses]

❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

Pairing:

Soft!dark!Thomas Shelby x Ada’s BSF!Reader

Summary:

Thomas was alone in his office with his thoughts, his regrets and desires after the night she was gone.

Warning(s): brief sexual themes. Tommy being down bad and obsessed with Reader. flashback in italics. Hints of violence. Minors, dni! Note: this is a mini series, so there will be one more part.

Word Count: 1.1k

It started out in the small kitchen after he came home from the war under the watchful eyes of his, the feeling that sent electroshock waves to his heart when she sat at the table as he came in.

It festered in the narrowed hallway after she left Ada’s room when there was no room for them to pass each other without brushing.

His obsession with her didn’t start small. It engulfed him like trees engulfed in flames, like wildfires. He watched her from afar, wanting and loving her from afar whenever he could. 

Then it became all too much the more sunrises and sunsets passed, his hands used to be the sole company of his cock in the middle of the night.

The sun was dimming below the horizon when he knew that it was Isiah when he knocked on the door quietly.

That was his signature knock, and based on the time that chimed on the grandfather clock, it was time for their meeting.

“Enter,” he called out, a soft thud was heard setting aside the glass tumbler on the ordinated desk he was nursing his emotions with. “What do you have?”

When he found out she had left while the streets were silent a night ago because his men reported back to him that she had brought the luggage with her into the vehicle.

That was when he knew, even though he did not have any evidence, but his instincts were rarely wrong.

Anyone who was a beggar in the streets would find remnants of broken shards of glass he had shattered that night.

“I found her, sir.” 

He raised his eyebrow, beckoning Isiah to continue with his statement.

“I was able to trace her to London. They stopped by a church,” he swallowed down the poisonous emotion at the mention of church. Isiah noticed it, but continued. “The preacher caved after I showed him a wad of money…” he trailed off, leaving the implication in the air.

They eloped.

There was a tic in his jaw, anger simmering in his veins, but he made sure to keep his expression empty. “Where is she at?”

“At Eden Club.” 

Of course, she thought he would stay away from his enemies’ territories unless he had a plan. Well, he had a plan and it involved her.

“Thank you, Isiah.” He said curtly.

“I’ll leave you to it.” With that, Isiah turned on his heels and walked out of his office. 

He waited until the door was closed with a soft thud before lifting the tumbler and chucked it against the wall with a curse under his breath.

Even when she was running, she could not escape from him forever.

He made an easy call, not expecting the foundation to crumble so quickly, so soon the moment she stormed into his office with ferocity in her gaze.

He had no intention of scaring her, making her realize that her best friend’s brother hadn’t seen her as Ada’s friend, instead he saw her as a woman. He hadn’t expected things to get out of hand so quickly, especially when his primal desire was to touch her in any way, the distance he permitted himself to have.

Fuck, even through the layers of clothing, her cunt felt glorious on the pad of his fingers and that noise that escaped from her throat sounded so…

Never he would’ve imagined that things would escalate.

Her husband was a threat to them, an obstacle that prevented him from being able to have her. All of her to himself. 

She was supposed to be by his side, not Edward’s. She was not supposed to be searching for a man especially when he was there, she was not supposed to use her husband as a reason why she refused to even see him.

It began to unravel whatever left of sanity he had.

And when all he had was sleepless nights induced war memories instead of having her, he drank those hours away with Irish whiskey held in a fancy crystal decanter that resided in his office. 

And if she was around, he never felt the need to drink more than his usual because he had her soothing his soul.

After what happened that day when she found out what he had done, he drank heavily since then because he could not get the look in her eyes out of his head.

Her glassy eyes welled up with tears that did not fall. The sight of them seared through him with pain because he never wanted to be the one to cause her pain, to be the reason why her beautiful eyes were holding a glint of devastating betrayal.

The stinginess of her tears meeting his heart, it was still throbbing, still aching, but all he could think about was he needed her to look at him. To only focus on him, ignore everything around her but him that was taking her away, that was keeping her away from him including herself.

He just wanted her to look at him.

Either way it would end up where they were at this moment.

He needed to remind her that she was his, no matter how far and how long they were apart. It still didn’t change the fact she was his until the end of time or whenever the world chose to burn. Whichever came first.

It had been a month since he had felt her lips despite he barely touched them with his and how he was bold in his approach with his touch. How he missed her. 

It had been a month since he had heard her voice since she ran out on him.

The moment he laid his eyes on her again in the kitchen two years ago, he knew she was more than the sun, the moon and all the stars in the universe.

And his brothers and his sister remained oblivious to what had just transcended in his soul. The longing to have her rose from nothing and it seared him like celestial fire branding him, marked him to love someone like her until death was ready to knock on his door.

Even at the risk of losing it all, he would not let that stop him. After all, he was a gambling man. He may have been selfish, but she was the only thing that kept him together. 

He closed his eyes.

“Oh.” Her eyes lit up. “Welcome home, Tommy.” He swallowed thickly as she whispered, peering at him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her beaming smile.

“Welcome home, indeed.” He murmured, looking down at her, unable to pull his gaze away.

The memory of her stirred a primal yearning within him, aching to be with her and keep her all to himself.

Opening his eyes, his hand already reaching for his weapon to place it in his holster.

He was going to remind her with a bullet in her husband’s brain, his upper lip curled in disgust and jealousy for the last time at the reference.

After all, time and tide wait for no man.

act i | ❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

act ii | ❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

act iii | ❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

[saintmuses]

❝𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣'𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝❞

Pairing:

Tom x Janet and Bill’s Daughter!Reader

Summary:

After Tom found out about the affair between his wife and Bill, surprisingly Janet as well; He went after one person he had been wanting for a while now.

Warning(s): SMUT. Drug usage. Implied minor age gap??? (everyone’s grown). Minor corruption. Protective!Tom. A small flashback in italics. Minors, dni! Note: do not fucking do drugs.

Word Count: 2.4k

“What the hell?”

Tom heard a familiar voice shrieking down the hallway, and he bolted towards where Janet was to see her standing there holding onto the door handle with his gun hanging on her fingers loosely next to her thigh. He turned his gaze to see Y/N standing in the doorway, bewildered with her hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack. He could feel his face softening at the sight of her before his eyes hardened when he turned back to the older woman.

“Put that away before you scare your daughter some more.” He hissed, glaring down at Janet who was abashed by her own reaction.

Later that evening, he walked quietly down the dimmed hallway after leaving the kitchen towards her bedroom.

Jinny and Martha took Bill to stay with them since Janet kicked him out with a ferocious rage on her face despite having a moment of calm while bringing him back.

Then Janet out of guilt wanted him to stay overnight so they could talk about what happened. He was not in the mood to venture out of the place and take a transportation to his empty house, hence why he agreed upon that.

It wasn’t because of that hypocritical bitch; it was something else.

He fucking despised everyone in the house he was standing in. He hated Janet, he hated Bill -at least he had a decency to admit he was having an affair whereas Janet got pissed the fact he was having one while she was having an affair with the same person- he could not stand that miserable cynical bitch April, could barely tolerated Jinny and her wife Martha, then there was self-preaching Gottfried. God, he hated them all. 

They were all so self-absorbed within themselves.

However, there was one person in this house who he did not hate. Ever since he had met Y/N at one of the dinner parties a year ago which was held in April and Gottfried’s home, he gravitated towards her. Soft eyes with a sweet smile.

He placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he propped himself against the doorway that was already opened.

His heart constricted at the sight of her sitting with her legs crossed in her sleepy shorts and plain t-shirt, looking down at the computer technology as the bright light shined on her face.

He gave her a small smile when she looked up from her laptop. “Hey, Y/N.”

She gave him a quirk of lips before her eyes dragged from his face to the screen in front of her. She hesitated before she returned her gaze to his. “Tom?”

He hummed in response, indicating he was listening.

“I’m sorry that your wife…” she trailed off awkwardly before closing her laptop with a quiet sound.

His shoulders shifted as he shrugged. “It’s alright. Our marriage hadn’t been well for a while,” sweat began to collect at his temples. Goddamnit.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s still not an excuse, isn’t it?”

He swallowed thickly, “no. I suppose not.” It came out as a rasp. His fingers trembled slightly, feeling the urge. “I will be right back.”

“You know you don’t have to go to the lavatory for that,” she told him, a knowing glint was shone in her depths.

“You…?”

“It’s kind of hard not to, you’re a bit jittery. It’s in your eyes.” She pointed out softly.

His ocean blue eyes analyzed the bedroom, taking in a mental of things that made to add to her characterization. “Well, I would have to do it in the bathroom since I don’t want to ruin your pretty things.”

“Okay.” She simply said. A beat before she opened her mouth. “Tom?” 

“Yeah, baby?” An endearment slipped from his tongue unbidden

A slight red shade painted her cheeks as she blushed, and he belatedly realized he had called her a pet name. 

“I’ve never tried cocaine,” she mumbled.

He closed the distance between them, his dress shoes barely stopping at the edge of her bed. “You shouldn’t,” he stated, shaking his head quickly. “I don’t want you to get into this stuff, promise me you won’t.” He said, sternly while staring into her eyes.

A pause before a sigh. “I promise.”

A sense of feeling washed over him, and he took a step back, adding the distance between the bed and himself.

“Since you won’t do it in my room, and you don’t want me to do it…can I watch you while you do it in the lavatory?” She asked, nibbling on her lips nervously.

He immediately wanted to say no.

But what if someone else would be too happy to let her watch it, possibly going as far as letting her take a bump or two. He could feel the anger brimming at the surface at the thought. He knew she would listen and would not break her promise to him.

However, why wouldn’t he do it so her curiosity would be satisfied, and she would not feel the need to consult someone else if they were to offer the opportunity.

With that, he changed his mind. He nodded, “come here.” He murmured, holding his hand out for her to latch onto it.

Relishing in the feeling of warmth of her hand as she clasped her fingers around his, and he immediately intertwined them together.

The lights were dimmed in the living room as they walked in the hallway, but he could hear chatter in the kitchen, luckily the door was shut so April, her husband and Janet wouldn’t see them going to the lavatory.

Opening the door, he quickly pushed her in there gently before flicking on the switch. His hand reached and twisted the latch to lock the door behind him once he stepped into the lavatory.

He unbuttoned his blazer before reaching in the inner pocket to drag out a clear plastic bag of white powder, and a card. Dropping them in the bathroom sink.

He had thought about doing it again on the edge of the bathtub, in the same spot that he had done it before. However, she was here.

He dragged his bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it before releasing it as he turned around to look at her with determination in his ocean blue depths. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here,” he said for the second time today. He took a step back from the sink when she closed the distance. She looked up to him with curiosity in her gaze. He only gave her a small quirk on his lips before turning her around to face the mirror, away from him.

He pushed her head to the side, pushing her strands behind her neck before leaning in.

He inhaled slowly, humming slightly as he glided the tip of his nose against the curve of her neck. The scent of florals engulfed his sense.

He was touch-starved from her skin. Raging inferno bloomed underneath his skin as he looked from afar, always watching her while he had no idea his wife, Marianne was cheating on him with Bill and Janet at the same time. He could’ve had her a while back if he had known.

“You’re trembling, baby.” He whispered; his nose grazed her skin. His hand roamed in front of her body, reaching in the sink absentmindedly until he heard the crinkle of the packet that held the drug as he picked it up from the sink.

He brought it to her collarbone, tilting the bag before spreading the white powder into a thin -as thin as he could- line onto her skin.

Then he closed the bag, throwing it back in the sink before he tilted his head forward.

He inhaled sharply as the white powder drifted into his nostril before lifting his head. He dropped the short metal straw in the sink. Closing his eyes for a release of euphoria as he gripped her waist, his ears prickled at the sounds of her light whimpers. He opened his eyes to see there was residue left behind before he leaned forward, parting his lips. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, lapping the residue off her skin.

He saw them reflecting on the mirror as he lifted his face, his eyes were dilated while half-lidded due to her close proximity.

But the look on her face was just enough to push him over the edge the cocaine could not accomplish.

Tom eventually gripped her jaw, pulling her in quickly as he turned her face to him, their lips colliding with such force that she would have stumbled backwards into the sink were it not for his hand pressing into her back, bringing their bodies closer together. 

“Fuck,” he breathed into her mouth. Pulling back, he turned her around to face the small mirror. He then tucked his fingers into the waistband of her sleepy shorts and panties, bending down as he dragged them down until they hit the tiles. He then forced her legs apart as he urged her to bend over slightly, she had to place her hands on each side of the mirror to hold herself up.

Unbuckling his belt before unzipping them, he then pushed his trousers along with his boxers down his thighs, freeing his cock from the constraint. He stroked it with his fist a few times. 

His hand came down between them to rub the curve of her ass. Then using both of his thumbs, Tom reached down and spread her folds to show him just how eager and ready she was despite not touching her.

“Fuck, you have a pretty pussy.” He breathed, straightening up; bringing his thick shaft to her cunt before slowly began to push into her tight entrance, feeling her slick hole resisting his intrusion. She was very tight.

About halfway in, Tom began to pull himself back until the tip of his cock was right at her tight entrance once more. It flexed and clamped down involuntarily, giving him enough pleasure on its own without even moving. With the way she was shifting on her tiptoes revealed to him just how needy she was. His hands come down to grip at the porcelain sink on either side of her frame.

Tom’s fingers tighten around the sink, using them as anchorage to force the rest of his cock in her cunt.

He simply pulled out before forcing his way back in with a grunt, giving her little hole no choice other than to adjust to his size. Her cunt oozed droplets of warm slick, coating his shaft in arousal.

His cock pulled out of her cunt, quickly sliding back in. He continued the process a few more times until her body relaxed enough to take him fully without resistance. Once he felt her, he began to pound into her, ramming his cock into her tight hole.

He used one hand to collect her hair to the side, bringing his lips to her ear. “It should’ve been you,” he grunted before pressing his lips to the curve of her cheek.

“What do you mean?” She panted the question, eyes squeezing shut as she tried to restrain herself from making any more noises from erupting her throat.

His lips brushed on her skin as he spoke. “You should’ve been my wife.”

The effort was fruitless as those words became her undoing. Her whimpers were strained, swallowing down anything that would give her away in the house due to the walls being thin even down the hallway.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds, baby,” he breathed out, panting as his hips slam into her ass loud enough to echo in the lavatory each time. 

“I can’t, they’re-“ down the hallway, she wanted to say, but couldn’t due to the noises that were threatening to slip. She shook her head, craning her neck to glance at him at the mirror reflecting the image of them. Her brows were furrowed, but her eyes were drawn out similar how a drunk person would look like except she was all cock drunk. 

“Fuck them,” he grunted, letting go of the side of the sink to grip her throat, curling his fingers around one side while his thumb resided on the other of her throat, squeezing hard enough for her to choke. She gasped for air against his palm, her hands still flexing onto the wall. 

When she struggled to give in, his hand crawled up her throat to press against her lips, his fingers prying her mouth open. His fingers pushed further back into her warm mouth, pressing against her tongue as he quickened his pace.

He stared at her at the mirror, full blown lust was etched on his face while hers were just as beautiful which caused him to flex his fingers in her mouth when her drool began to dribble down his fingers eventually making its way to the back of his hand before dripping down to his wrist. He angled his hips in the exact same way, shoving into her with enough force.

His thick cock abused her cunt, stretching her hole so wide around his shaft. With her leg lifted onto the porcelain sink, she was spread for him to slam deeper into her over and over again

His balls smacking against her cunt. It was difficult for her to stay silent; her walls were completely melting against his roughness.

“Tom,” she whined, attempting to warn him.

He needed more, somehow the cocaine fueled his lust to ruin her. He took a hold of her hips with a bruising force, dragging her leg off of the sink, before lifting her until her legs were dangling as he began to pound brutally into her pussy.

About to unravel, she gripped one side of the sink, knuckles straining as her other hand smacked, attempting to grapple the other side of the sink. She tried again. “Tom.”

He heard her, but he didn’t slow down like she thought he would. He merely grunted, moving his body faster as each thrust grew in force. He was fucking her pussy as if it was the last thing he would ever do, ruining her body as much as he wanted. It was his, after all. She was his. 

Her juice was coating his cock as it slid in and out of her cunt. The feeling of her insides tightening and clamping down against his cock was beginning to overwhelm him and he slammed into her, thick ropes of cum starting to shoot out of his tip, pumping into her until there was no longer any room in her cunt.