STOP PUTTING OC STORIES WITH "X READER" TAGS BRO WITH ALL DUE RESPECT YOUR STORY DOES NOT BELONG THERE....listen... im sure the story is great... BUT im literally gonna combust if i keep seeing ts. Im trying to feed my delusions and yall arnt helping. Sighhhhhhh
Drunk??? Me???
Tommy Shelby x Wife!Reader [Peaky Blinders M.S]
The Shelby house was quiet.
Too quiet, considering you were supposed to be home two hours ago from your girls' night out.
Tommy sat in his leather chair, whiskey untouched in his glass, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He wasn’t worried—not really. You weren’t reckless, and the bar you went to was owned by Arthur. Still, the unease in his gut didn’t ease until the front door clicked open.
“Darling, I’m home!”
Your voice rang through the hall, far louder than necessary. Tommy stood, his jaw ticking as he moved toward you.
You were leaning against the wall, trying to toe off one heel, the other already abandoned halfway across the floor. Mascara slightly smudged, lipstick kissed off, hair a little mussed. And grinning like a fool.
“There she is,” Tommy murmured, catching you just as you wobbled forward. “The ghost of gin and bad decisions.”
You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck with more force than finesse. “Tommy, love of my life, you’ve got two heads. When’d that happen?”
“You’re fuckin' pissed.”
“Who, me?” You hiccuped. “Absolutely. Gloriously. Marvellously.”
Tommy sighed, sliding his hands to your waist to steady you. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
“Wait!” You slapped your palm to his chest dramatically. “Did you miss me?”
He raised a brow. “You were gone for four hours.”
“That’s practically forever in marriage time, Mr. Shelby.”
“You reek of whiskey and trouble.”
“And you,” you whispered, poking his nose, “reek of brooding and disappointment.”
That earned a low chuckle. “Come on.”
He scooped you up—heels, purse, and all—despite your surprised squeal.
“Tommy! I’m a grown woman!”
“A grown woman who can’t walk straight,” he replied, carrying you up the stairs like it was nothing.
You nestled your head into the crook of his neck. “You’re strong. Like, stupidly strong. It’s hot.”
Tommy let out a small huff, trying not to smile. You always got talkative when drunk—sweet, unfiltered, messy. He both loved and hated it. Loved it because he got to see the softest corners of you. Hated it because something in him always felt like he didn’t deserve it.
Once in your shared bedroom, he sat you gently on the bed and knelt to unbuckle your shoes.
You swayed forward, fingers burying in his hair. “Tommy?”
“Hm?”
“You know I love you, right? Like… stupid, stupidly in love with you. I’d punch anyone in the throat who looked at you funny.”
“I know.” He looked up, eyes softer now. “You tell me every time you drink.”
“Well, then you should really believe it,” you said seriously.
He tugged your dress off gently, replacing it with one of his shirts, letting it fall to your thighs. You flopped onto the pillows with a sigh of contentment.
Tommy turned off the lights, slid in beside you, and pulled you to his chest.
“Thanks for not being mad,” you mumbled into him.
“I’m not mad,” he whispered into your hair. “Just glad you’re home.”
A pause.
“I brought you a sausage roll,” you murmured. “It’s in my purse. It’s probably squished.”
He laughed—actually laughed—and kissed your forehead.
“My girl,” he said quietly. “Drunk, messy, but always thinking of me.”
You fell asleep with a smile on your lips, his arms around you, and the softest man in Birmingham tucking the blankets around your body like you were made of glass.
♱ MAKE UP SEX ft. Thomas Shelby ♱
ׂ╰➤ prompt four of my kinktober schedule. 3.2k words.
ׂ╰➤ INCLUDES: italian mob era, pinv, husband!tommy, flirting by way of arguing, dubcon warning just bc tommy is a bit forceful but everything is fully consensual
The black hand was a mark of death.
It was a point of no return for the recipients. A threat that had proven unbeatable.
And one had just been stamped over your name. Painted pretty on a greeting card and dropped in your mailbox as if it didn’t signify the end.
You thought about calling him. About hounding anyone who would listen just to get the words out of your head. You knew why, you knew who. You knew every in and out of what had brought this on. Still, you hadn’t expected the mafia.
The Peaky Blinders could sweep street urchin dust easily under the rug, or conquer a power hungry Irishman and his measly influence. That was nothing. That was lightwork.
This was suicide. Clean-cut and pre-determined. Inescapable.
Calling wasn’t enough. It was too insincere for something so heavy. You and Tommy were far from ideal. Most days you barely functioned at all. But, you’d made a vow to grit your teeth and get through him. You’d made a vow to be his. And above all your frustration, your pride sat sure and steady.
Your love for him, too. Whatever it meant to love Thomas Shelby.
The large doors of the Arrow manor felt unfamiliar, though they were still technically yours. You’d been staying elsewhere for a while, bored into madness by the solitude and sick with worry over his constant bartering. The walk through the halls felt like punishment, like it was costing you something vital every second you wandered the space that was meant to be warm. That you were meant to be home in.
You found him in the bedroom, agonizingly tracing the hedges at the front of the house with his eyes. He held whiskey in his hand, the bronze of it deep and devastating through the clearness of the glass. You didn’t drink much when alone. You’d almost missed the sight.
When he turned, the glimmering lapis of his irises nearly knocked the balance out of your knees. Thomas Shelby was never shocked, never caught off guard.
But, in this moment, he looked lost.
Your presence was so unexpected that, for a second, he thought he’d imagined you entirely. It gutted you quietly, that he was so sure you’d given up on him. Your exhaustion and your anger had been a storm, an argument, time spent away. But it’d never been finality. It had never been a conclusion. Not to you, at least.
“I got a black hand.”
His face didn’t shift with surprise, didn’t morph in any way at all. He only nodded, all knowing and omnipotent like the prophetic bastard he was at his core.
“You’ll be protected.” The tired rasp of his voice drew your attention to his rolled sleeves, the slouch of his shoulders. “I’m dealing with it.”
You hummed, the absoluteness of your disbelief twinging the air with a bitterness that was reminiscent of the air just before you’d left.
“Dealing with the Italian mob?”
“We managed one Changretta.” The incident was a sour one. The place where this ordeal had begun. “Polly says our odds are favorable.”
The predictions of Polly Gray were unforgiving, and as far as the Shelbys were concerned, were to be treated as inherent truth. Still, the facts were cold and glaring. This was a threat of immeasurable damage.
“Polly’s been wrong before. Your men are outnumbered.”
“Polly’s the only fucking hope I’ve got.” He raised the cup that he’d yet to finish, trying to chase the fear he was choking on with the burn of familiarity. “What do you suggest I do, eh? Let them come? Let them kill us?”
You sighed, finding the exchange almost humorous with how unchanged he remained. How unwilling he was to bend for anything or anyone. Most people couldn’t see past the calm he projected, couldn’t get a peak past the stoicism. But there were cracks. Obvious cracks to anyone who knew him like you did. To anyone who saw him. He was a brilliant man, and an enviable leader.
But he was a scared person. That’s what it all boiled down to in the end.
“You look like hell, Tommy.”
He flinched ever so slightly at the sound of his name in your mouth. It looked like it hurt, like it was the kind of ache that felt so good it nearly made you relinquish your life.
“‘Course I look like hell.” He poured the last swig of that ambrosial mahogany past his open lips like an emphasis of his surrender. “I’ve got Italian gangsters breathing down my neck and I’ve been sleeping in an empty fuckin’ bed for weeks.”
His dragging steps led him over to the aforementioned piece of furniture, collapsing into a seated position on the foot of it. You felt the urge to touch him burn the nerves of your fingers. You wanted to comfort him, wanted to be there like you always were.
It was just different. Though petty and seemingly insignificant now, still different.
“Why did you come?”
In full honesty, that question didn’t have a solid answer. A part of you feared they’d already gotten to him, as nonsensical as that was. You’d wanted to see how much it was taking from him, to have such a colossal rapture stewing just beyond his sights. You suppose you needed a gauge on how empty he was, how much your choices had siphoned the life from him.
And, deeper than that, you’d just wanted to see him.
“Black hand’s a big fucking deal. Would you rather I called?”
He was looking up at you, the depth of the grandiose blue that stained his irises still endless, still so full of effortless persistence. It was something you loved about him, how stubborn he was, how evidently he wore it if you knew how to read him. His emotion was always stirring in his eyes, always present. It was forced to congregate there, being denied entry to any other inch of his face most of the time. Many didn’t even know he could smile, could be content.
Your expression was as sturdy as his was stone, a connection of pure will, pure endurance. It was never a competition with him, just a tether. That was what your relationship was. A repetition, a pattern. Changing shape over the years but never changing ideology. You were one of the only people he couldn’t command, one of the only people he didn’t want to command.
“No.” His hand ran itself over the other in a method that looked self-soothing. Something he did when his fingers pulsed for the heat of a cigarette. He didn’t reach for one, though. You hated when he smoked in the bedroom. “It’s good you came.”
And, as if he couldn’t help himself, he spoke again.
“It’s good to see you.”
Tommy, contrary to what the masses believed, was quite an affectionate man. In his own quiet, discontented way. What should have been common courtesy was essentially the highest honor you could get from a Shelby. It wasn’t right by any means, but when you loved one, it felt like being given Heaven itself to hear such an emotional line.
The appropriate response didn’t wander over to you, didn’t make itself known at all. You stood opposing him with nothing of value to say. You missed him too, of course you did. But he hadn’t cracked. Not yet.
You couldn’t either.
“It’s late. You should stay.” He watched you shift back and forth, the stillness of the room festering into the muscle of your legs, jostling them in a way that forced fidgeting. “Not safe to be driving at night with them after us.”
“They’re after you and Arthur more than anyone. I think I’ll manage.”
He stiffened just a little at the denial, squaring his shoulders a bit and tilting his head at you.
“Well,” He nodded briefly, as though settling on a thought. “You can stay of your own volition or I can have Frances slash your tires. Up to you.”
Your eyebrows raised at the proclamation. Something among the endless list of things he’d missed in your departure, your intolerance.
“Christ.” The image of beautiful, wrinkled Frances wielding something sharp enough to cut your wheels in her marbled sewing fingers was nearly humorous. Less so when you looked him over, when you saw how serious he was. “Don’t you think blackmail’s a little below your pay grade, Tommy?”
Your gradual outrage made him smile a bit, amused by his ability to pull the right strings, to prod the soft spots of your armor.
“It’s my company, love. I make the fuckin’ pay grade.” It was half full of humor and half full of sincerity. He wasn’t particularly good at comedic inflection, but he could do wit like no one else. This wasn’t really either of them. This was just arrogance. Just truth. “It’s for your own good.”
You scoffed, sarcasm bleeding an infectious homicidal inkling into the ice of your stare. It wasn’t full, though. He could see the fondness lurking somewhere beneath the glaciers. The comfort that the overbearing familiarity brought.
“Fine. Spare Frances the trouble.”
You’d never do anything at her expense. Tommy wasn’t cruel to those he thought useful, but he’d make her do this. You could see it in his posture, hear it in his voice.
“I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
It was the most silent shove of his hand, the most discreet and unknowing prompt you could muster. You should have moved, should have cemented your words with intention. With walking away. But you didn’t.
Couldn’t.
The exhale he breathed was long, heavy with something burdensome. He stood up, shrugging lightly.
“If you want.”
It was the predecessor to something far grander than you were prepared for. He moved forward, and still, you stayed put. His walk was slow, a practiced ease in his steps that read like a man time bent around. He was right in front of you before long. So close that his air was yours, that the heat of his body permeated your personal space. It was reminiscent of more passion-filled times, the delinquent days of your relationship.
It simmered, warming the spot that sat so deep within your stomach, only he had ever managed to reach it.
“Sleep with the maids if you feel inclined. But, when that clock hits twelve,”
He gestures to the gift on the wall, something bestowed to him as a sign of gratitude. It had always seemed significant to you that he’d chosen to put it in the space you two shared. Not in his office, or somewhere easily on display, but somewhere his.
“I’m leaving this room, and I’m comin’ to find you. No matter where you end up.”
It was inexplicably difficult to maintain your indifference when he spoke like that. When he looked at you with such a ravenous ownership. That ring he’d put on your finger bound you to him in a way that even you didn’t know the full specifics of. Just that it did. Just that you were his, even in your mild bouts of self actualization. Even in the times you didn’t want to be.
“What if I don’t want -”
“Don’t fuckin’ start. You want it.”
His tone was low, ushered out of his mouth and into the open arms of your awaiting ears. The words bounded back and forth in your head, echoing like they were something holy.
“Could go years without seein’ you and I’d still know what you needing me looks like.”
Each syllable was like a knife, pierced between the bones of your ribcage and crooked just the right way, just enough to snag your heart. It felt like trying to breathe underwater, like anything you were pulling in just stayed. No exchange, no oxygen, no life. Just him. Just the absolutely incinerating feeling of standing so close.
“Tell me,” You could practically feel your ears perk, your pupils dilate Ready to answer whatever he was asking of you. “When you were sleeping in Ada’s spare bed, did you miss this?”
You had.
You’d missed it more than you’d anticipated. The warmth, the comfort. The want. The cold had been bone-deep most nights. Torturous.
“Did you touch yourself thinking about how good it is when you’re not being difficult?”
The callout was staggering, air crawling into your lungs with such an immense stutter that it should have been impossible. He was so shameless. Always cunning and always aware of his own footsteps bypassing where the limits sat. Thomas Shelby didn’t have limits.
He’d practically said it himself. He made the limits. Others just followed them.
And, due to the seemingly permanent vacancy of where your oxygen was meant to be dispersed, your speech came out quiet as a whisper. Fully saturated and essentially dripping with all the pent up desire that had been forced to bubble unaccompanied for weeks. It was barely there at all, something silent for only the two of you to bask in.
“Fuck you, Tom.”
That was the line that reeled him in, made him close the distance. His mouth tasted like high-end whiskey and the cruelest purgatory. Somewhere you’d always end up no matter how hard you fought against the tide.
An indecent noise sprung from the confines of your aching chest, dissolving into the kiss of the man you could never manage to free yourself from. He gave you one of his right back, gruff and aged. It was heavy with a mass you related to, something that’d been brewing.
He spun you, forcing your steps to walk you the short distance back to the bed. He pushed you down, the impact making you bounce slightly. It loosened the tension you’d been carting around in the time spent alone. That newfound space prompted a brief laugh to leak from your open lips.
He raised his eyebrows, but a hint of a smile twisted wryly at the corners of his taunting expression.
“Happy now, eh?” The last bit of your legs were extended, hanging a little off the bed. He got on top of you regardless, stooping down to be just barely touching his nose to yours. “Thought I made you miserable.”
It had been a sentence of great regret. Something you’d said in a fleeting moment of exaggerated agony and a need to hurt him.
As if you could. As if you’d ever want to.
“You do.” You ran your hand beneath the sagging button-up, feeling his skin like you were clinging to life itself. Like he was your tether to anything fulfilling. “But I said yes, didn’t I?”
The strangling weight of your wedding band seemed heavier in the moment. A molten reminder of the claim he bore on you. The signal that others should bow their heads if you were near. Treat you like they would him.
Surely you’d always known what you’d agreed to.
Some wordless alignment punctured the airflow, lowly satisfaction blending into the frequency. You could hear his smugness even with nothing to punctuate it. It just seeped from him, like he was made of it.
His nimble hands were rushing to get your clothes off, garments being stripped away without time to savor it. This was carnally driven, eagerness lining each and every button undone, every waistband yanked down. You aided the attempts, tugging at the cursed coverings until, eventually, they relented, baring the man you’d promised yourself to and leaving you just as undressed.
Unprotected, more so. Nothing to hide behind anymore.
He didn’t prolong the point, didn’t give any time for hesitancy. Tommy was never a man with inhibition. He moved with intention, moved like he knew where each step would land.
He was much the same as a lover.
You felt the head of him trace up and down a few times, the minimal beads of his pre-cum warming the weeping parts of you. You’d forgotten the mess, forgotten the little shock that ran up the length of your spine when it hit you what was about to occur.
Then, he was pressing in. Slow, easy, and life-ruiningly good.
It hurt in the most rewarding way. The way that made it clear you’d feel it tomorrow, the way that was a consequence. It’d been weeks with nothing, and now he was giving everything. You feared for a moment that your body wouldn’t be able to adjust at all. That it would be too much, too deep. Too specific of a feeling.
But he’d made it work. He always did.
And when he started moving, your hand shot up to the hardened flesh of his bicep, squeezing like a warning. Like a life raft. Like it could save you from the sensation of being whole again.
Every precise drag in and out of you felt like carving a promise into the wood of a sacred tree. You could feel him everywhere, so far within you that your heart seemed to readjust it’s beating to match his pace.
His hand came up, interlacing tenderly with yours and pinning it beside your head. It was a disgustingly intimate display of affection. Something that proved the verbal frigidity of the constant bickering didn’t represent the connection, didn’t win the fight against the pure devotion that the two of you held like an oath.
The love won out. It always won out.
A specific thrust had him perfectly on that special spot. It felt like fireflies in your head, nothing but a pleasant buzzing as your eyes shut, back arching slightly on reflex.
“Ay, look at me.”
The words were engraved into your jaw, his lips trailing kisses on any skin he could get to. You stared up at him, hazy and crestfallen from the way he gazed at you.
“You pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll have Arthur drag you back here by your fuckin’ throat. You hear me?”
“I’d like - mm -” Your attempts to match his authority with some semblance of your own was outpaced immediately by the perch of his fingers on your clit. The pattern they found was signature, one that sent you reeling every time. “Like to see him try, Tommy.”
Your words were barely audible over your breathing, approaching an edge so strong that it almost scared you. The combined stimulation of all that he was doing was too fast, too consuming after the streak of celibacy you’d been on.
Some warning chipped the bottoms of your teeth, scraped by on the way out of your mouth, but he didn’t accept it. He kept his motions consistent, coaxing you over that edge with quiet praises and promises of reform. It was like a trebuchet, hauling you into an orgasm so complete that it made your vision white for just a beat, made your fingers somehow tighter on his arm.
He was the much same, letting go of the most stunning noises you’d ever heard, searing the soft flesh of your shoulder as he exhaled them into you. It was the kind of closeness that remade you, carved new indents that only one person could ever fit into.
Him. You’d been reduced and rebuilt over and over to be a vessel for him. For all you felt for him.
He didn’t pull out, didn’t move in a way that even suggested he was going to. He just stayed as he was, conjoined and completely fused. Even as his cum started to leak out around where he was softening, he didn’t budge. He simply ran his hands over the skin he’d been separated from for too long, simply existed in a rare moment of solitude with you.
Thomas Shelby was an affectionate man. Especially when he could show it like this.
Taglist: @sunnyteume
The Sandman
Another little on and off obsession...
Ashes of Starlight (Romance Series) - ONGOING
Chains of Reverie (Rewrite) - ONGOING
Where Hell Ends - ONGOING
Just a Dream (Romance Series) - COMPLETED
Amara & Hope (Sequel to Just A Dream) - ONGOING
Smut Only/No Plot:
The Muse's Gift (Smut Only Series) - ONGOING
The Gathering of Claims (Smut Only Series) - ONGOING
The Dreamer (Smut Only Series) - ONGOING
The Offering (One Shot) - Your are traded to Lord Morpheus and he claims you.
In Your Dreams (One Shot) - Morpheus has his way with you while you are asleep.
All stories contain smut!
Send me some ideas and requests if you have any for some dark! smut!
P.s. English is my second language. Apologies for any mistakes! Plus, I would love comments and engagement if you like it!!!!
Old/Do Not Read (under rewrite):
Chains of Reverie (Romance Series)
Athena's Gift (Romance Series)
Wedding Night
Pairings: Thomas Shelby x Virgin Reader
Warnings: smut, 18+, virginity loss, detailed sexual content, unprotected sex, P in V, soft sex, aftercare, slow burn.
Summary: Y/N’s first time with Thomas on their wedding night. He’s gentle, reassuring, and completely focused on her.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊
The rain had held off just long enough for the ceremony.
Now the air outside was cool and damp, the scent of grass and earth drifting through the cracked windows of Arrow House. The house was quieter than it had been in hours, the distant hum of guests saying their goodbyes had faded, the champagne glasses had been cleared, and the music had long since gone still.
Thomas closed the bedroom door behind them with a quiet click.
Y/N stood near the center of the room, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the delicate lace of her gown. The dress still fit her perfectly, though the night had left it slightly creased at the waist and shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, not from the wine, she hadn’t touched a drop, but from the way he’d been looking at her all evening.
He stepped forward, undoing the top buttons of his shirt as he walked, eyes never leaving hers.
“You tired?” he asked softly, voice low, almost like a murmur meant only for her.
She shook her head, barely audible. “No. Just… nervous.”
He stopped in front of her.
She didn’t pull away when his hands came to her waist, slow, steady, warm. His touch was careful, never rushing. He looked down at her face, searching.
“You don’t have to be,” he said gently. “Not with me.”
Y/N swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I know. It’s just-”
“I know.” He leaned in and kissed her temple, lingering there for a beat before moving to her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “We’ll go slow.”
That kiss settled something in her chest. He could always do that, silence the noise just by being close.
She reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw, rough with the day’s stubble. He leaned in again, their lips meeting properly this time, soft, exploratory, his hand now cradling the side of her neck as he kissed her slow and deep.
When they pulled back, his thumb gently stroked her cheekbone. “Come here.”
He guided her to the bed, not pushing, just leading, and sat down first, pulling her gently between his legs, arms resting on her hips. The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing a golden glow across the room. She stood between his knees, eyes locked with his, breathing shallow.
His hands slid up her back as he kissed her again, deeper this time, his fingers careful as they found the tiny buttons running down her spine.
“Can I?” he asked, his voice warm against her mouth.
She nodded.
He started undoing them, one by one, pausing to press kisses to her bare shoulder as the fabric slipped. His touch never left her skin, reassuring and patient. When the dress finally slid from her arms and onto the floor, he paused again, looking at her, not just her body, but her face.
“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly, like it was just a fact. Not flattery. Just truth.
Y/N’s breath caught as he stood, guiding her gently back onto the bed, following her down, the mattress dipping under their weight. He lay beside her, half over her, one hand braced next to her head while the other smoothed along her hip.
He leaned in, kissing her again, slow and meaningful. “If anything feels wrong… if you want to stop, say so. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know,” she whispered, voice small but steady. “I want this… I want you.”
He nodded, then kissed her again, slower this time, deeper, the heat building carefully between them.
Thomas’s eyes lowered for a moment, taking her in as she lay back against the pillows, lit only by the soft glow of the fire. Her white lace lingerie still clung to her body, delicate and elegant, almost too beautiful to touch. Almost.
His gaze met hers again, and he leaned in, kissing her forehead first, then down the bridge of her nose, before whispering against her lips.
“You look…” he breathed, his voice thick, “fucking stunning.”
She let out a small, nervous laugh, more from the tension in her chest than anything else. He noticed immediately, brushing his knuckles down her arm.
“Can I take this off?” he asked quietly, fingers grazing the thin strap of her white bra. “Only if you want me to.”
Y/N hesitated, not out of fear, but because the moment felt so real now. But then she looked at him, saw the softness in his eyes, the way he held back, waiting for her.
She nodded slowly. “Yeah… you can.”
Still, he didn’t move just yet.
“You sure?” he asked again, his thumb tracing just below the lace edge. “You say the word, we stop. No pressure.”
“I’m sure,” she whispered, her hand settling gently on his shoulder.
He gave a small nod, then pressed a slow kiss to her collarbone as his fingers reached behind her, careful and steady. The clasp loosened under his hands, and he slowly slid the lace straps down her shoulders, the bra falling away between them.
He didn’t say anything right away, didn’t gawk, didn’t rush.
Just kissed her again, gently, his palm flattening softly against her bare side as he pulled her in closer, wrapping her in warmth.
“You’re safe with me,” he murmured against her skin. “Always.”
Thomas’ lips lingered on hers, a slow, grounding kiss that tasted of whiskey and patience, before he pulled back just enough to look at her. The firelight flickered across his face, softening the sharp edges of his jaw, his eyes holding hers with a quiet intensity. Y/N’s breath hitched, her bare skin tingling under the warmth of his gaze, the cool air of the Birmingham night brushing against her newly exposed chest. She felt vulnerable, but his presence, steady, unhurried, kept her anchored.
His hand, still resting on her side, moved slowly, his calloused palm sliding upward with a gentleness that made her heart stutter. His fingers traced the curve beneath her breast, tentative at first, giving her time to adjust to the sensation.
“Alright?” he murmured, voice low and rough, his thumb brushing just shy of her nipple, waiting for her cue.
She nodded, a soft “Yeah” escaping her lips, her voice barely above a whisper. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly, his touch sparking something warm and unfamiliar deep inside her.
Thomas leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of her throat, then lower, his lips grazing the delicate skin above her heart. His hand cupped her breast, fingers gentle but sure, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a slow, deliberate circle. Y/N let out a small, involuntary moan, the sound catching in her throat as a shiver ran through her. His touch was careful, reverent, but it sent sparks dancing across her skin.
He paused, glancing up to check her face, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he lowered his head, his lips brushing the soft swell of her breast. His kisses were featherlight at first, warm and teasing, tracing the curve of her skin.
Then, slowly, he took her nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking gently before he sucked, soft but deliberate. Y/N’s breath hitched, another quiet moan slipping out as her fingers tightened on his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.
“Tommy,” she whispered, the sound of his name trembling on her lips, half plea, half wonder. The butterflies in her stomach turned into something hotter, more urgent, as his mouth worked her sensitive skin, alternating between gentle sucks and slow, lingering kisses. His other hand found her other breast, kneading softly, his fingers rolling her nipple with a tenderness that made her arch into him, her body responding before her mind could catch up.
He hummed against her skin, the vibration sending a fresh wave of warmth through her, his lips curling into a faint smile as he felt her tremble. “Good?” he asked, voice muffled against her, his breath hot on her skin.
“Mhm,” she managed, her voice breaking into another soft moan as he sucked again, a little firmer this time, his tongue swirling in a way that made her toes curl. Her hands slid up to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, holding him closer as the sensations built, layering one atop another like kindling catching fire.
Thomas pulled back just enough to kiss the valley between her breasts, his lips trailing slow and deliberate, each touch igniting her further. His hand continued its gentle fondling, thumb and fingers working in tandem to draw more of those quiet, breathy sounds from her. He was patient, every movement measured, every kiss a promise that he’d take care of her, that she could trust him with this.
Her skin felt alive under his touch, her heart pounding as the butterflies gave way to a deeper, aching want. She tugged lightly at his hair, urging him closer, her body speaking what her words couldn’t.
Thomas’ lips hovered at the crest of Y/N’s hip bone, his breath warm against her skin as he pressed another slow, deliberate kiss there, his hands steady on her thighs. The firelight cast a soft glow over them, the room quiet except for the faint crackle of the hearth and her uneven breaths. Her pussy throbbed, sensitive to every touch, every whisper of air, as his kisses trailed lower, pausing just above the delicate lace of her panties. Her white lingerie, sheer and delicate, clung to her, and she felt exposed, vulnerable, but his presence was a tether, keeping her grounded.
“You’re doin’ so well, love,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, the Birmingham edge softened by a warmth that made her heart stutter. His fingers grazed the waistband of her panties, teasing the thin fabric, brushing ever so lightly over her clit through the lace. The sensation pulled a soft, trembling moan from her lips, her hips twitching instinctively toward him.
“That’s it,” he said, his tone soothing, like he was coaxing her through a quiet storm. “Just let yourself feel it, yeah?”
Her cheeks flushed, her breath hitching as she nodded, too shy to speak at first. Thomas’ eyes flicked up to hers, blue and steady, watching her with a patience that made her feel cherished.
“You alright?” he asked, his thumb stroking the edge of the lace, just grazing her sensitive core, sending another spark through her. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
“I’m… I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice shaky but honest. “Just nervous.”
He nodded, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “Nothin’ to be nervous about,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the soft skin just below her navel.
“It’s just you and me here. No one else, no rush. You’re safe, Y/N, I promise.” His words were a balm, easing the tight knot of nerves in her chest.
His fingers hooked gently under the waistband of her panties, pausing as he looked up at her again. “Can I take these off, love?” he asked, his voice steady, giving her all the space to decide. “Only if you’re ready.”
She swallowed, her pussy pulsing with a mix of anticipation and nerves, but his calm, grounding presence made her feel brave. She nodded, then caught the slight raise of his brow, the silent prompt for more.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” he urged gently, his thumb brushing her hip, his touch so careful it made her ache. “Wanna hear you say it.”
“Please, Tommy,” she said, a little stronger, her fingers twisting in the sheets. “Take them off.”
He gave a low hum of approval, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly slid the lace down her thighs, the fabric whispering against her skin. The cool air hit her bare pussy, making her shiver, her sensitivity amplifying every sensation.
Thomas set the panties aside, his hands returning to her hips, one palm flattening against her skin, warm and steady. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with something like awe. “So fuckin’ beautiful, Y/N. You’re perfect.”
Her blush deepened, and she let out a small, nervous laugh, but his words wrapped around her like a blanket. His hand moved lower, fingers brushing the soft skin just above her mound, teasing, not diving in. He started with her outer folds, his fingertips tracing their edges with a gentleness that made her breath catch. “I’m gonna go slow, alright?” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “You tell me if it’s too much, or if you want more. I’m right here with you.”
She nodded, a soft “Okay” slipping from her lips as his fingers continued their careful exploration, stroking the slick, sensitive skin of her folds. Her pussy throbbed, so responsive that even the lightest touch sent a thrill through her, drawing another quiet moan. “Tommy,” she whimpered, her voice trembling, her hips shifting slightly under his hand.
“That’s my girl,” he said softly, his thumb brushing just below her clit, not touching it directly but close enough to make her pulse race. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me already.” His tone wasn’t crude, but reverent, like her arousal was a gift he didn’t take lightly. “Feels good, yeah?”
“Mhm,” she managed, her moans soft and high-pitched, each one spilling out as his fingers traced her folds, parting them gently to explore her further. He teased her entrance with one fingertip, not pushing in, just circling, feeling the slick heat there. The sensation was overwhelming, her pussy so sensitive that every brush of his fingers felt like a spark, her body arching slightly into his touch.
“Spread your legs a bit more for me, love,” he said, his voice calm but firm, guiding her with care. “Just like that, good girl.” His free hand squeezed her thigh gently, encouraging her as she parted her legs wider, her breath coming faster now.
“You’re doin’ perfect,” he murmured, his fingers returning to her folds, stroking slowly, deliberately, teasing her entrance again. “Just breathe, let me take care of you.”
Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he continued, his touch so gentle yet precise, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through her. Her pussy throbbed harder, her arousal making her slicker, and Thomas noticed, his eyes darkening with want but still tempered by care. “Christ, you’re so responsive,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Love how you’re reactin’ to me. You tell me what you need, alright? I’m listenin’.”
She couldn’t speak, not really, her mind hazy with the intensity of it all, but her body answered for her, hips lifting slightly, chasing his touch. Her hands gripped the sheets tighter, her moans soft but constant, each one a testament to how her body sang under his careful hands.
Thomas’ fingers lingered on Y/N’s folds, his touch featherlight as he parted her gently, his thumb brushing just shy of her clit, drawing another soft moan from her lips. Her pussy throbbed, slick and sensitive, every nerve alive under his careful attention. He shifted lower on the bed, his body settling between her thighs, his breath warm against her skin as he pressed a slow, reassuring kiss to the inside of her thigh. “You’re doin’ so good, love,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with that Birmingham grit but softened by tenderness. “Gonna make you feel even better now, yeah? Just keep breathin’ for me.”
Y/N’s heart raced, her fingers tightening in the sheets as she felt his breath ghost over her core, the anticipation making her pussy pulse harder. “Tommy,” she whispered, her voice shaky, a mix of nerves and want. “Is it… gonna be okay?”
His eyes flicked up to meet hers, blue and steady, grounding her in the flickering firelight. “More than okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, his hand finding hers, lacing their fingers together, his grip warm and firm. “I’ve got you. You trust me, don’t you?”
She nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to her thigh, closer now, his lips brushing the sensitive skin near her folds. “Just let go for me. Wanna hear you, alright? Every sound you make, I want it.” His other hand slid up her body, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple, sending a fresh shiver through her. The dual sensations, his hand on her breast, his breath so close to her pussy, made her moan softly, her hips shifting instinctively.
Then his mouth was on her, his lips closing gently around her clit, and Y/N gasped, a sharp, trembling sound that filled the quiet room. The pleasure was immediate, overwhelming, her pussy so sensitive that the soft suck of his mouth felt like a spark igniting a fire. “Oh,” she whimpered, her free hand flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands as her body arched off the bed.
“That’s it,” Thomas groaned against her, the vibration of his voice sending another jolt through her clit. His tongue flicked out, licking her slowly, deliberately, tracing circles around the swollen bud before sucking again, gentle but firm. “Fuck, you taste so good, love. Keep makin’ those sounds for me.” His hand squeezed her breast, fingers kneading softly, rolling her nipple between them, the sensation layering over the wet heat of his mouth on her pussy.
Y/N’s moans grew louder, higher-pitched, each one spilling out as his tongue worked her clit, alternating between slow, languid licks and soft sucks that made her thighs tremble. The pleasure was intense, almost too much, her pussy throbbing so hard it felt like her entire body was pulsing with it. “Tommy,” she gasped, her voice breaking, “it’s… it’s so much.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips brushing her clit as he did, making her whimper. “Feels good, don’t it? Just let it build, yeah? I’m right here, gonna take care of you.” He squeezed her hand tighter, his thumb stroking her knuckles, grounding her as his mouth returned to her, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe over her clit before sucking again, a little harder now.
Her moans turned into soft cries, her hips bucking against his mouth, chasing the pleasure that was spiraling tighter and tighter inside her. His hand on her breast kept moving, squeezing, teasing her nipple, while his tongue flicked faster, then slower, finding a rhythm that made her body shake. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he growled, his voice thick with want. “Love how you’re fallin’ apart for me. Let me hear you, Y/N. Don’t hold back.”
She couldn’t, even if she wanted to. The pleasure was too intense, her pussy so sensitive that every lick, every suck, sent her closer to an edge she’d never crossed before. Her moans were constant now, breathy and desperate, her fingers gripping his hair, his hand, anything to anchor herself. “Tommy, I… I feel—” she stammered, her voice breaking as his tongue circled her clit, then sucked hard, pulling a sharp cry from her throat.
“You’re close, love,” he said, his voice muffled against her, his lips never leaving her clit. “Can feel it. Just let go for me, yeah? I’ve got you. Gonna make you come so good.” He doubled down, his tongue flicking faster, then sucking her clit in a steady rhythm, his hand squeezing her breast, thumb rolling her nipple in time with his mouth. The sensations crashed together, her pussy throbbing, her body trembling as the pleasure built into something almost unbearable.
“Tommy!” she cried, her voice raw, her thighs clamping around his head as the orgasm hit her, a wave of white-hot pleasure that stole her breath. Her pussy pulsed, her clit throbbing under his tongue as he kept licking, softer now, riding her through it. Her body shook, her moans turning into soft, broken whimpers, her fingers digging into his hand, his hair, as the sensation overwhelmed her. It was her first orgasm, and it felt like her entire world had shattered and reformed in the space of a heartbeat.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Thomas murmured, his voice low and soothing, his tongue giving her clit one last gentle lick before he kissed it softly, making her twitch. “Fuck, you did so well. So beautiful when you come.” He kept his hand in hers, squeezing gently, his other hand leaving her breast to stroke her thigh, calming her as her body trembled with aftershocks. “Just breathe, yeah? I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere.”
Her chest heaved, her breaths ragged as she tried to process the intensity of it, her pussy still pulsing, sensitive to even the air. “I… I didn’t know it’d feel like that,” she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes glassy as she looked down at him.
Thomas smiled, a rare, soft thing, as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, then moved up to hover over her, his hand still holding hers. “First one’s always a shock,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But you were perfect, love. Fuckin’ perfect.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips, slow and tender, letting her taste herself on him. “You alright? Need a minute?”
She nodded, her breath slowing, her body still humming with the afterglow. “Just… stay with me,” she murmured, squeezing his hand.
“Always,” he said, his voice low and sure, as he settled beside her, his hand stroking her side, keeping her close as she came down from the high. “You’re my girl, Y/N. Gonna take care of you every step of the way.”
Thomas’ lips lingered on Y/N’s, a slow, grounding kiss that left her breathless, her body still tingling from the orgasm he’d coaxed from her. The firelight cast flickering shadows across the room, the air heavy with the scent of rose petals and their shared warmth. Her pussy still pulsed, sensitive and slick, as he shifted above her, his weight propped on one elbow, his eyes searching hers with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “You’re still with me, love?” he asked, his voice low, rough with desire but softened by care. “Feelin’ alright?”
Y/N nodded, her breath unsteady, her fingers still laced with his. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice soft but sure. “I’m okay, Tommy. Just… want you.”
His lips curved into a faint, approving smile, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if to anchor her. “Good girl,” he murmured, his free hand brushing down her side, soothing her. “Gonna take this slow, yeah? You tell me if you need me to stop, any time.”
She nodded again, her trust in him unshaken, even as nerves fluttered in her chest. Thomas shifted, sitting back slightly, his hand moving to the waistband of his trousers. He unbuttoned them with deliberate care, his movements unhurried, giving her time to process. As he slid them down, along with his boxers, his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the veins prominent along its length. Y/N’s eyes widened, a mix of awe and apprehension washing over her. It was bigger than she’d imagined, intimidating in its size, the head flushed and glistening slightly in the dim light.
“Tommy…” she breathed, her voice trailing off, her gaze fixed on him. “It’s… it’s so big.”
He chuckled softly, a low, reassuring sound, as he settled back over her, his hand returning to hers, squeezing gently. “It’s alright, love,” he said, his tone calm, steady. “You can touch it, if you want. Go on, get a feel for it.”
Her cheeks flushed, but curiosity won out. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing the warm, velvety skin of his shaft. It twitched under her touch, and she gasped softly, her fingers tracing the thick vein that ran along its length. “It’s… hard,” she murmured, almost to herself, her touch growing bolder as she wrapped her hand around him, feeling the weight of him in her palm.
Thomas let out a low groan, his eyes darkening, but he kept himself still, letting her explore. “Feels good when you touch me like that,” he said, his voice rougher now, but still gentle. “You don’t have to be shy, Y/N. It’s just us.”
She bit her lip, her hand lingering a moment longer before she drew back, her heart pounding. “Will it… fit?” she asked, her voice small, the question slipping out before she could stop it.
Thomas’ expression softened, and he leaned down, kissing her lips gently, then her cheek. “We’ll make it work, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Gonna go so slow, make it good for you. Trust me, yeah?”
She nodded, her trust in him unwavering despite the nerves. He guided her back down onto the bed, her head settling against the pillows, the rose petals shifting beneath her. His hand slid to her thigh, gentle but firm, as he positioned himself between her legs. “Spread your legs for me, love,” he said softly, his voice a quiet command wrapped in care. “Just a bit wider, that’s it.”
Y/N parted her thighs, her breath hitching as she felt the cool air against her slick pussy, still sensitive from his earlier attentions. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Will it hurt?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability in her question laid bare.
Thomas sighed, his expression heavy with empathy, his thumb brushing her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her forehead again. “It might, love, just at the start,” he said honestly, his voice low and steady. “Wish I could take that pain away, I do. But I’ll be gentle, yeah? We’ll go as slow as you need, and if it’s too much, you tell me, and we stop. I’m right here with you, every step.”
She swallowed, nodding, her hand squeezing his tightly. “I trust you,” she whispered, her voice steadying as she met his gaze.
He kissed her again, slow and deep, his lips grounding her as he shifted closer, the head of his cock brushing against her folds. She gasped softly, the contact sending a jolt through her sensitive pussy, her hips twitching instinctively. “Easy, love,” he murmured against her lips, his hand stroking her side, calming her. “Gonna take it slow, alright? Just keep lookin’ at me.”
He guided himself to her entrance, the tip of his cock pressing gently against her, slick with her arousal. He paused, his eyes locked on hers, watching for any sign of discomfort. “You ready?” he asked, his voice soft but firm, his thumb stroking her knuckles.
“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but certain. “I’m ready, Tommy.”
He nodded, his lips brushing her forehead again as he began to push forward, slow and careful. The stretch was immediate, a sharp sting that made her gasp, her free hand gripping his shoulder. He froze, his cock barely inside her, his eyes searching her face. “You alright?” he asked, his voice thick with concern. “Breathe for me, sweetheart. Just breathe.”
She nodded, her breath shaky as she tried to relax, the sting mingling with the warmth of his presence. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “Keep going.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand squeezing hers as he pushed in a little further, his cock stretching her slowly, inch by inch. The pain was there, sharp and unfamiliar, but his gentleness, his constant reassurances, kept her grounded. Her pussy was so sensitive, every movement sending a mix of discomfort and pleasure through her, her body adjusting to the new sensation.
“Almost there, love,” he said softly, his voice steady as he watched her, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well. Just a bit more, yeah?” He pushed in further, his cock filling her now, the stretch intense but easing slightly as her body began to accommodate him. Her moans were soft, a mix of pain and something deeper, something that stirred low in her belly.
“Tommy,” she whimpered, her nails digging into his shoulder, her other hand clinging to his. “It’s… it’s a lot.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he said, his voice soothing, his lips brushing her temple. “You’re takin’ me so well. Just focus on me, alright? I’ve got you.” He stilled, letting her adjust, his cock buried inside her now, the fullness overwhelming but tempered by his care. He kissed her again, slow and tender, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”
She took a few shaky breaths, her body trembling but relaxing as the initial sting began to fade, replaced by a strange, pulsing warmth. “Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice steadier. “You can move.”
He nodded, kissing her forehead once more before he began to move, his hips rocking slowly, pulling back just a fraction before pushing in again, gentle and controlled. Her pussy clenched around him, the sensation intense, her moans soft and breathy as the pleasure started to overtake the pain. “That’s it, love,” he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. “You feel so fuckin’ good. Just keep breathin’, yeah? I’m right here with you.”
He kept his movements slow, deliberate, his cock sliding in and out with careful precision, watching her face for every reaction, ensuring she was with him. Her moans grew louder, the discomfort fading into a deep, aching pleasure, her pussy throbbing around him, sensitive to every thrust. “You’re mine now,” he said softly, his lips brushing hers, his hand never leaving hers. “My beautiful girl. Doin’ so perfect for me.”
Her body arched into him, her trust in him blooming as the pleasure built, her heart pounding in time with his. The world narrowed to just them, the firelight, and the slow, intimate rhythm of their bodies.
Her breaths came faster now, each one a soft gasp that filled the quiet room, mingling with the crackle of the fire. Thomas’s eyes never left hers, his gaze steady and warm, anchoring her as the pleasure coiled tighter within her. Y/N’s fingers tightened around his, her other hand gripping his shoulder, nails digging in just enough to ground herself in the intensity. The slow, deliberate rhythm of his thrusts deepened, each movement drawing her closer to a precipice she’d never known before.
“Tommy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of need and vulnerability, her wide eyes searching his for reassurance.
“I’ve got you, love,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, like a promise. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her lips, tasting the salt of her breath. “Just let go for me. I’m right here.”
Her body responded to his words, the trust she felt in him unraveling the last of her hesitation. The ache within her blossomed into something overwhelming, a wave of heat and sensation that made her toes curl and her back arch higher. Thomas felt her tightening around him, her pussy fluttering as she teetered on the edge. He kept his pace steady, not rushing her, letting her body guide them both. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, his other hand sliding down to grip her hip, steadying her as she trembled.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. “You’re so beautiful like this. Let it happen.”
With a soft cry, Y/N shattered beneath him, the pleasure crashing over her like a tide. Her body shook, her thighs quivering as she came, her pussy clenching tightly around him, pulling him deeper. The sensation was too much, too perfect, and Thomas groaned low in his throat, his control fraying as he followed her over the edge. His thrusts slowed, becoming uneven as he spilled inside her, his warmth filling her in a way that felt both new and eternal. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, his lips pressing soft kisses to her flushed skin as they both rode the waves of their release.
For a moment, they stayed like that, bodies entwined, hearts racing in unison. The firelight cast golden shadows across their skin, the room quiet except for their ragged breaths. Thomas lifted his head, his blue eyes soft and searching as he looked down at her. Y/N’s cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, her expression a mix of awe and vulnerability. She looked so fragile in that moment, yet so strong, having given herself to him completely.
“Are you alright, love?” he asked gently, his voice thick with concern. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch featherlight.
She nodded, a shy smile breaking through her daze. “I’m… more than alright,” she whispered, her voice soft but sure. “That was… I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
Thomas’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, one reserved only for her. “You were perfect,” he said, kissing her softly, lingering as if to seal the moment. He eased himself out of her carefully, mindful of her sensitivity, and she winced slightly, her body still adjusting to the newness of it all. He noticed immediately, his brow furrowing.
“Hold on, darlin’,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. He shifted to lie beside her, pulling the soft blanket from the foot of the bed over their bodies to keep her warm. He drew her into his arms, her head resting against his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm under her cheek. “Just breathe with me, alright?”
Y/N nestled closer, her body relaxing into his warmth. His hand stroked her back in slow, comforting circles, his touch grounding her as the intensity of the moment settled. “Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with worry. “I tried to be gentle.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she assured him, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “It was… a little strange at first, but you made it feel right. You made me feel safe.”
His expression softened, a flicker of relief in his eyes. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you, Y/N. Not tonight, not ever.”
They lay there for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the fire casting a soft glow over the room. Thomas was attentive, his hands never straying far, always touching her in some small way, smoothing her hair, tracing her arm, or simply holding her close. He reached for a glass of water on the bedside table, helping her sit up slightly to take a sip.
“Drink, love,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You need it.”
She obeyed, her hands still a little shaky as she took the glass from him. He watched her carefully, making sure she was comfortable, before taking the glass back and setting it aside. He pulled her back into his arms, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.
“Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice soft but earnest. “Anything at all.”
Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at his care. “Just this,” she whispered, resting her head against him again. “Just you.”
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and low. “You’ve got me, Mrs. Shelby,” he said, his voice tinged with pride. “Always.”
As she drifted toward sleep, Y/N felt his lips press against her forehead one last time. “My beautiful girl,” he whispered.
And in that quiet, firelit room, on their first night as husband and wife, Y/N knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.
"what's got you smiling at your phone like that?" *wiggles eyebrows*
my fav fanfic author just posted and I'm gonna implode from happiness :)
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