#dub-con

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An long overdue conversation.

I remember having thoughts making this along the lines of "I should include that in the author's comment :)" and then forgot. This was a long one and very emotionally taxing, but painful in a way of a splinter getting removed. Things can finally start to heal.

[jtargaryen18]

The Arrangement

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k

Pairing: Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Warnings: Drugging, age gap, coercion, loss of innocence, dub-con, explicit sex, oral (f rec), breeding kink (inferred), HEA

Your stepfather made an ill-advised wager with Arthur Shelby and when he lost the coin toss, you were are to be given to Arthur for the night. And you will be taken tonight. Just not by Arthur...

A/N: I don't know if any of you are fans of Peaky Blinders. The DH started watching it recently and I've watched it with him. My muse grabbed me and this was the result. But I find if I keep her happy, she'll let me work on my other projects so... Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

You shivered in the chilly air, wearing your best dress and wrapped in your heaviest shawl. You walked along the cobbled street, slick with rain and coal dust. You felt numb, struggling to accept the situation you found yourself in through no fault of your own. 

One one side of you, John Shelby walked with his usual restless energy, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers. Though younger than the others, he had a sharpness in his eyes. There was a tension about him that betrayed the weight of the world he’d been forced to carry. His hair was slightly disheveled, his cap pulled low over his forehead. But he cast a shadow that made him look harder than his years. The dim gas light flickered across his face, highlighting a faint bruise on his cheekbone. Maybe evidence of a recent scrap, though nothing too serious by Shelby standards.

On the other side, Liam Murphy, one of the Peaky Blinders’ trusted men, walked along. Taller and broader than John, he carried himself with the calm confidence of someone who knows he can handle whatever comes next. His dark eyes scan the area as they reach the destination, ever-watchful. Dressed in the same razor-brimmed flat cap and three-piece suit as the rest of the gang, Liam looked every bit the part of a man who’d bled for the Shelbys and would again without hesitation. You thought you smelled whiskey on him, but his movements were steady and his focus razor-sharp.

Around them, the air hummed with unspoken tension. John’s energy crackled like a struck match, eager and impatient. His gaze landed on you and he cracked a smile. "Look at you. You look like a fuckin' lamb going to slaughter."

Yes, you were scared to death. But you lifted your chin, holding his gaze. "Wouldn't you?"

Both of them burst into laughter as they stopped in front of the apartment, the agreed meeting place. 

"Yeah," John said. "Can't say I'd want to fuck Arthur either."

The reminder of why you were here was too pointed, too impersonal. You glanced around Small Heath, the neighborhood the Shelbys dominated here in Birmingham. It was a rough area, a working-class district, thick with the grime of industry and the weight of hardship. The narrow, soot-stained brick houses huddled together as if bracing against the cold, damp air rolling in from the factories. The sharp scent of iron and smoke from nearby foundries clung to the wind like an ever-present warning.

Gas lamps cast flickering pools of light, their glow struggling against the heavy smog that lingered in the alleyways. The sounds of the city never truly died. Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle howled through the night, blending with the rattle of carts, the distant shouts of drunken men spilling from the back doors of a pub.

When the door opened, your heart lurched in your chest to see Arthur Shelby standing there in the dim light. He seemed a shadow of the man he once was, now wild-eyed and disheveled. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, his once-crisp white shirt now rumpled and stained with whiskey and the sweat of a man who'd been drinking too long and thinking too hard. His tie hung loose around his neck, the knot twisted and undone.

His hair, usually slicked back with care, was in disarray, tufts sticking up where he’d raked his fingers through it in frustration. His face was a map of old scars and fresh exhaustion. His beard was uneven, the shadow of stubble catching the flickering light. His knuckles were raw, split from a recent fight. Maybe from a brawl at The Garrison, maybe something worse.

His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. They burned with the remnants of rage and sorrow. His breath reeked of whiskey and smoke, and when he exhaled, it was slow, heavy, as if the weight of the world pressed down on his chest. When he saw you, his eyes lit up in surprise. It was like his mind was pushing the memory of why you were there through the haze of his enebriation. 

"Come in," he said after studying you for a moment.

What else could you do? 

Dropping your head, trying to keep your desperation and fury at bay, you walked quickly by him and into the apartment. 

When John and Liam tried to push their way in, Arthur smashed a fist into Liam's face. The crunching sound made you think Arthur broke his nose. "What the fuck?" Liam yelled. "Aren't we supposed to be witnesses?"

The question sent a spike of fear through your heart.

"The hell you are!" Arthur raged at them. "Now get out before I knock some teeth out, you fuckin' bastards."

With that, he slammed the door hard and locked it for good measure. 

Inside the small apartment, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and old tobacco. The walls were thin, covered in peeling wallpaper that was once floral but now curls at the edges. The floorboards creaked under the weight of every movement, betraying any attempt at stealth. Outside, heavy boots scuffed against the cobblestones, stopping and starting, keeping you on edge.

The only light inside came from a low-burning candle near the window, its feeble glow barely touching the dark corners of the room. A single iron-framed bed sits against one wall, its mattress lumpy and worn. A wooden table stands near the hearth, cluttered with an empty bottle, a playing card bent at the edges, and a knife someone left behind.

The Peaky Blinders owned these streets, and yet, danger lurks in the shadows, even for them. Every knock at the door could be salvation—or the end. This is where you were born.

You stood in the small space and waited. You had no intention to make this easy for anyone. Particularly when it wasn't fair at all how you came to be here.

Arthur swayed slightly, adjusting his stance, his grip tightening on the half-empty bottle he lifted from the small table by the window. At least the curtains there were closed. There was an eerie stillness in him, the kind that only comes before a storm. He wiped a hand down his face, inhaling sharply, trying to steady himself. The chaos inside him was still bubbling, waiting for the right moment to spill over.

"Look," Arthur said, "I'm truly sorry for this situation. It's nothing personal towards you, you know. It was your father and the coin toss. He--"

"Stepfather," you corrected him. Your father had been a decent man who didn't make it back from the war. Your mother had married Sean O'Grady out of necessity, to keep you and your younger brother fed. Your stepfather was as bad as your father had been good.

"Whatever," Arthur said. "He lost the coin toss and the coin is sacred to us. He promised me a turn with you if he lost."

Something like shame flashed in his eyes as he looked you over. It wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. You were inexperienced with men. Your brother had started working at the factory at a young age, but you stayed home and helped with the garden, with the sewing. Your mother took in work as a seamstress here and there and that's how the Shelbys came into your life to begin with. Arthur started it, coming by to have a couple of shirts repaired, stains removed. He'd been intimidating enough but he wasn't the one who scared you the most.

Tommy Shelby.

His name alone carried weight, pressing down on your chest like an iron shackle. He was the kind of man stories are whispered about in dark corners. He never needed to raise his voice to command obedience, nor did he need to lift a hand to make someone afraid. His power was in his silence, and in the way his glacier-blue eyes stripped a person down to their bones.

You'd seen men stronger than you shrink beneath his gaze, their bravado crumbling under the quiet calculation that lurked behind those cold, unreadable eyes. He was a man playing chess while everyone else is swinging fists. And yet, beneath the tailored suit and composed expression, there lurked something even more dangerous—something hollow and broken. It made him unpredictable.

He didn't look like a man who enjoyed violence. That would make him easier to understand. His detachment terrified you the most. Men who enjoy hurting others could be manipulated, could be fed their own hunger until they slipped. Tommy killed without joy, hesitation, or remorse. He was a different kind of monster entirely.

Arthur drank straight from the bottle, the amber liquid splashing inside it. His eyes never left you and now you were shaking. You knew your stepfather wanted you married off and gone from his house, but how was this the way to do it? Was he punishing you for still living in his house?

"What are you waiting for?" Arthur asked, slurring his words. "Come over here."

"And do what?" you had to ask. "I don't know... how..."

His eyebrows shot up at that. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

You shook your head. Waves of shame and anger rushed through you. You were untried and terrified. He was drunk and seemed at a loss as to how to handle the situation. After a moment, he set the bottle back on the table and marched towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you in place for his kiss.

Instinct had you fighting him. His kiss was sloppy and wet, the liquor on his breath heavy. It made you feel a little sick. He was easily twice your size and it was nothing for him to drag you in the direction of the bed. When your back met the mattress, you closed your eyes in acquiescence. You just wanted it over with so you could go back home, soiled goods thanks to your stepfather's poor judgment. But you'd live to fight another day. At least you hoped you would.

Arthur's weight dropped onto you on the bed, but after a moment, you realized he wasn't moving. When he snored by your ear, it was all you could do not to burst into tears. Did this mean you'd have to wait for him to sober up? Would this torment be rescheduled? You didn't think you could take that.

You didn't know what to do. Carefully, you managed to roll him off you and onto his side. He didn't wake or even move as you managed to get off the bed. Hope had your heart swelling in your chest. Could you make it out of this apartment then? You could claim that the deed was done and he passed out after.

Rushing to the window, you moved the curtain just enough to see the street and it didn't look like anyone was outside the door now. Could you make it out if you moved fast enough? 

With your heart flying in your chest, you unlocked the door and pulled it open. You dashed out onto the street sending up every prayer that you'd ever said that you could just make it home. 

You collided with someone hard. You were shaking as his hands came up to steady you, keep you from falling. An apology was on your tonque as you glanced up to see who blocked you.

It was him.

Tommy Shelby was the one who had you, his figure a sharp silhouette against the darkness. A beat after he released you, a match flares to life, momentarily illuminating the angular planes of his face—the high cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the cigarette resting between his fingers. The glow flickers out as he exhales, smoke curling around him like a specter. In that brief moment, his icy blue eyes locked onto yours.

He didn’t look surprised.

There was no anger or raised voice. Just a cold, assessing gaze, as if he had already predicted this. As if he knew you'd run before yoou even did. He inhaled slowly as he stance shifted. His demeanor was that of a wolf considering a cornered rabbit.

“Going somewhere?” His voice is soft, all the more dangerous for its calmness.

You want to run, but your legs refused to move. The street around you seemed empty now, swallowed in shadow. But you knew he was never truly alone. Somewhere, in the darkened alleys, his men are watching.

Tommy took one step forward, slow and deliberate.

“You should know,” he murmured, flicking his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his polished boot, “I don’t like having to come after people.” 

Hooking your thumb in the direction of the apartment, you said, "He's d-done."

That cool gaze moved over you, up and down before returning to yours. "Not with you. Arthur loves the ladies but I've never seen him move that fast."

You hadn't thought of that. 

"Did he pass out?" he asked quietly.

Tears stung the backs of your eyes and you nodded. It wouldn't do any good to lie to him. "What happens now?" you asked, cringing under that cold gaze. 

"There's still an arrangement," Tommy reminded you. "And it has to be honored."

You glanced back over your shoulder at the door wondering what he meant by that. Would you wait for Arthur to wake up? Come back another day when he was sober?

Rough fingers at your chin turned your face back to him, and you shrank away from that unfamiliar touch. When your attention was returned to him, he grabbed your upper arm and started walking, almost dragging you up the street at first. What was he going to do? Where was he taking you?

Men were walking not too far behind you now, his men. They stayed behind the two of you until Tommy abruptly turned a corner, heading up a short flight of steps. Leading you into another apartment.

The new apartment was cleaner, quiet and cold. A stark contrast to the cramped, smoke-choked rooms you just fled from. The walls are smooth, freshly painted in an off-white shade that seems almost too pristine for a place in Small Heath. The faint scent of tobacco and whiskey, mingling with the lingering traces of fresh linen and polish, told you someone actually cared for this space.

The furniture was sparse but elegant in a way that didn’t fit the rough streets outside. A solid oak table sits near the window, a glass decanter of amber liquid resting on top, two crystal tumblers beside it. A plush armchair, its deep leather cracked at the seams, faces the fireplace where faint embers glow, casting flickering shadows against the walls.

Against one wall was a proper bed. It was well-made with crisp white sheets and a thick wool blanket folded at the foot. A luxury in this part of Birmingham.

His men have left by now, their boots retreating down the hallway, leaving you alone with him. The door closed.

“You’ll be more comfortable here,” he said, and there was no mistaking the finality in his words. It wasn't a courtesy, but an arrangement.

You still didn't understand why you were here. Was he going to keep an eye on you until his brother slept it off? Or would he expect you to stay here until the deed could be done?

He hung up his cap and shrugged out his dusty black coat, hanging it up too. You heard the soft sound of a match striking as Tommy lit another cigarette, his gaze unreadable as he exhales a slow stream of smoke. Grabbing the Scotch and tumblers on the table, he filled the crystal glasses and motioning you over. 

"Have one," he said. 

He wanted you to drink? You'd never drank spirits in your life. You must have stared at the glass like a snake about to bite you.

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette. "Since my brother is unable to do the honors," he said, "we'll finish the arrangement here and now. Drink it. It will make it easier."

Panic threatened to overtake you. What? Arthur Shelby passed out drunk so now you were expected to fuck Tommy Shelby?

Not doing as he said seemed terrifying, so you reached for the tumbler meant for you with a shaking hand. Bringing it to your lips for a sip, you almost coughed. The drink was smooth but potent. It burned like fire all the way down to your stomach. 

"Sit down," he said, using his foot to push one of the two chairs at the table back for you. You did as he wanted, taking another drink of whiskey. You felt the weight of those ice-blue eyes on you as you stiffly took a seat. "You ever been with a man?"

The man could just talk about something so personal like it was nothing more than business. It was a lot more than that to you. It took a moment for you to work up the courage to meet his gaze now, but you made yourself do it. You may have been trapped in this situation but you had to remember that you personally had done nothing wrong. 

“No,” was all you said. “Never drank either. Until now.”

Tommy studied you, the faint glow of his cigarette illuminating the sharp angles of his face. “Your stepfather isn’t a wise man.”

“Or a kind one,” you murmured, the words bitter on your tongue.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, effortless yet edged with something unreadable. “That why he offered you up?” His voice was calm, almost casual, but his gaze never wavered. “Strict with you, was he? That why you haven’t got any experience?”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around the tumbler in your hands. “No. He just wants me gone.”

Tommy hummed in answer. The room feels smaller with him in it. He took the chair across from you. One arm draped lazily over the back of the chair, the other rested on his thigh with his fingers curled loosely around a half-filled tumbler. He hasn’t spoken for a couple of moments, and yet his silence is as oppressive as a threat.

His ice-blue gaze roamed over you like a weight you couldn’t shake off. It felt like he was unraveling you in his mind, peeling back the layers of fear, of defiance, of whatever fragile armor you've built to protect yourself. It felt like he could see right through you. And he enjoyed it.

The cigarette smoldered between his fingers, the red ember glowing each time he took a slow, unhurried drag. He exhaled through his nose, the smoke curling like ghostly fingers in the space between you. He wasn;t trying to scare you. His presence alone was enough.

And yet… he was devastating.

The angles of his face, chiseled and unyielding, should have made him look harsh and unappealing, but they didn’t. His dark lashes, too long for a man, cast shadows over his cheekbones. The corner of his mouth curled around the cigarette in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive but was. The controlled power in the way he moved, the effortless confidence... It drew you in even as you willed yourself to stay on guard.

He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of the liquor, the tendons in his forearm flexing beneath the crisp sleeve of his shirt. When he set it down, the clink of crystal against wood echoed loudly in the silence of the room.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and even.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, tapping ash from his cigarette, “and I’ll start thinking you’ve forgotten why you’re here.”

It was a warning.

And God help you, it was both terrifying and intoxicating. You took another sip of from your glass, welcoming its burn and warmth. You'd been unable to eat today given what was going to happen. Your entire life would change after tonight. The alcohol went straight to your head, taking the edge off of your fear. Not enough but it was better than nothing.

"If the... arrangement is settled, here and now, then I'm done?" you had to ask. "Arthur..."

Tommy took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a ribbon of smoke. His blue eyes stay locked on yours, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to look away.

"Would you prefer Arthur?”

The question landed like a blow.

Your fingers tightened around the tumbler, the burn of alcohol lingering in your throat. You struggled to find your voice. Prefer Arthur? Tommy said it so easily, like the answer didn’t matter to him either way, like it was nothing more than an idle curiosity. But the way he watched you, eyes half-lidded, you knew that wasn't true.

Your pulse quickened. Arthur was rougher, louder, and reckless. But Tommy was something else entirely.

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “No.”

Tommy didn’t react immediately. He just studied you for another long, unbearable moment before smashing the cigarette out in a small tray. “Good.”

You didn’t ask why. Something told you that you didn’t want to know.

Your heart pounded as he drained his tumbler in one slow pull, rising from the chair with smooth movements. Without a word, he reached for your glass. Carefully, but firmly, he took it from your hands and placed it on the table. Then, he offered you his hand.

Your heart started flying. A silent command. A choice that wasn’t really a choice. Despite the tension tightening in your chest, you took it. His fingers closed around yours, steady. He pulled you effortlessly to your feet, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin.

It was only a few steps to the bed, but the space between felt heavily charged. Tommy took a seat at the edge, his grip still firm around your hand. When he glanced up at you, those piercing blue eyes pinned you in place. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words. And still, he didn't let go.

Tommy’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly, as he studied you with a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. His gaze moved over your face, taking in every detail.

His smooth, low voice sent a shiver down your spine, when he spoke next. “Pretty thing, aren’t you?”

Your stomach tightened. There was no warmth in his tone, no flirtation. It was like he’d already decided exactly what to do with you. His fingers tightened, just for a beat, before his grip loosened again. And for the first time, you realized it wasn't fear making your heart race.

You weren’t prepared for the way his other hand slid behind your neck, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to send a shiver down your spine.

The only time a man had ever kissed you was Arthur’s sloppy, whiskey-soaked attempt in the other apartment.

There was no drunken sway or careless fumbling. Tommy moved with purpose. When his lips touched yours, it was a whisper of a kiss at first. There was no overpowering smell of spirits, just the faint scent of tobacco, of him. As his lips moved against yours, firmer and seeking, you tried to mimic him, afraid not to do something. You must have done something right. He increased the pressure at the back of your neck to pull you closer, and your hands landed on his shoulders, crisp linen covering tight muscle under your palms. When he deepened the kiss, you let him, and the slide of his tongue against yours gave him a deeper taste of you. His moan surprised you, and you felt that subtle sound all through your body as he continued to kiss you breathless.

It was easy for him to pull you onto the bed and roll you under him, breathless as you were. When his mouth claimed yours again, his kiss was more demanding, and his hands were everywhere. Tommy managed to pull your shawl free of you without breaking the kiss, his hands then sliding down to work the worn leather Mary Janes you wore off your feet, tossing them off the side of the bed. One hand grabbed your ankle before sliding up your leg, up to cover the globe of your ass. Panic had you jerking in his hold. 

Tommy pulled back to look you in the eye, his face flushed. There was a wildness in his eyes, something raw and unchecked. You doubted many had ever seen it. His gaze searched yours, and you trembled in his hold from the sheer intensity of it.

"I'm going to have you," he said breathlessly, his weight pinning your body to the bed. Grinding himself into your tummy, the hard, heated length of him was unmistakable, even with both of you clothed. His eyes darkened in sheer determination and his hold on you tightened. "You understand?"

You nodded quickly. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

Sliding his hand roughly up your body, he smoothed his hand over your cheek, his gaze never leaving you. Tommy kept watching you as that hand moved back down to pluck at the buttons of your blouse and his nimble fingers made quick work of it. Impatiently, his hands pulled the garment free of your skirt before undoing the buttons of your camisole beneath. You couldn't stop trembling as he undid the last barrier and peeled it back to reveal your upper body to him.

His gaze was sharp, moving over your breasts with growing impatience, hunger. With a delicacy you wouldn't have believed him capable of, his fingers traced over your collar bone, over the tiny gold cross pendant of your necklace. He trailed a finger over your skin, across to one breast, using that digit to tease your nipple to a tight peak with a gentle circular touch. When his heated gaze returned to yours, he filled his hand with your breast, squeezing firmly but not enough to hurt. Tommy began kissing you again, heated and greedy now, with his hand teasing your breast before sliding down your body and beneath your skirt.

As if he knew you were about to start fighting him again, he broke the kiss to cover your breast, teasing it with his lips and tongue as his hand slid under your skirt, into your underwear. Sensation overwhelmed you, need battling fear, and your hands clutched in the bedding beneath you as his fingers teased your private flesh, the light pressure drawing new sensations from your body.

"You can touch me," he muttered around your nipple. It felt like a command. Your hands shook as they slid up to him, instinctively moving to his head. The glossy black locks of his short hair slid between your fingers as he continued to tease you relentlessly, burning you down with his mouth and hands. 

Chills and pulses of unexpected pleasure had you writhing feverishly beneath him as his tongue smoothed over your aching nipple and his fingers danced in the wet folds between your legs. Your breath sucked in when he touched your pearl, and he lifted his head to savor your reaction. Whatever he was doing with his fingers, all you knew was that it would soon drive you insane. He didn't give you the speed or pressure you wanted, his touch fleeting and maddening. Your fingers clutched in his hair as he continued to delicately torture you, your legs clamped around his hand because you couldn't help it in your need. But it didn't slow his efforts at all. 

When his touch stopped, you whined, an unfamiliar sound to you. In a frenzy of movement, Tommy roughly yanked off your skirt along with your underwear, your stockings. He wasn't satisfied until you were stripped bare beneath him, all of you trembling under the intensity of his stare. As he sat there next to you, taking every inch of you in, his fingers went to work with haste, undoing his tie, stripping off his waistcoat. His fingers flew at undoing the buttons of his own shirt which he pulled free of his trousers but didn't remove it. 

Tommy shifted down the bed and moved to throw one of your legs over his shoulder so fast, you didn't have time to react. And by the time you did, he'd buried his face between your thighs. The flames of humiliation only burned you for a few seconds. The man's mouth covered your sex, his tongue a wicked torment that was unfamiliar and almost too much to bear. One of his hands worked to keep your folds open, your curls out of his way, as he kissed your pussy as he had your mouth. The other slid up over your tummy with pressure, holding you in place for his assault on your senses.

You accepted it but your entire body was shaking, shivering and it was impossible to stay still. Your back arched and you would have been horrified to realize that you were pushing yourself towards him, towards his mouth, wanting more, if you hadn't been so lost in the storm of sensation. What he was doing didn't make the fever better, it made it worse. It felt like fire running through your veins with raw need pooling low in your belly. When he slid a finger back to your pearl as he continued to work you with his mouth, you gasped. When his movements sped up, when his tongued traced your opening, you screamed long and loud. A wave of pure pleasure swept over you and he didn't stop what he was doing the entire time, dragging it out until you violently shook beneath him, crying and moaning as your body shivered and eased. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he moved up the bed toward you, his hands working the fine leather belt at the front of his trousers. He wore nothing beneath and the sight of his cock, angry red and larger than you expected, filled your vision as you watched him take himself in hand, working himself as his gaze roamed over you. Tommy shifted, one of his knees pushing yours apart. You let him, watching him drape himself over you. There was something obscene about the way he stripped you naked but was still mostly clothed himself. 

He surprised you by stopping then, a hand smoothing over your hair and face with care. You sensed he was holding back, respecting your inexperience. You knew it meant nothing to him but he realized it meant something for you, and your heart squeezed in your chest at the gesture. 

"It's going to hurt," he said, whispering against your lips. "Not for long. Hang onto me."

You did what he said, but slid your hands beneath his shirt, running your hands over the muscular plane of his damp back. Your fingers found scars, a lot of them, but it gave you a distraction from the way he lined himself up with your entrance, the smooth head of him pressing into you insistently. It felt better to bring your legs up, your knees hovering around his hips. You held your breath as the pressure built, and the intrusion of him pushed further into your body. When he met that fleshy barrier inside you that proved your claim, Tommy surged through it, and the pain was searing. It took your breath away, had tears stinging your eyes as he completely filled you. Your tender walls quivered around him, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar length of him.

With the pad of his thumb, he caught a tear, brushing it away. Then, without a word, he lowered his head, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was unexpectedly tender. As if, for once, Tommy Shelby was in no hurry to take what he wanted. He held still inside you, allowing you to adjust to him. Lost in the dizzying mix of pain and pleasure from his kisses, you found yourself clinging to the unexpected gentleness in his touch. A quiet mercy.

But the arrangement wasn’t over yet. Not until he was finished.

Slowly, he started moving inside you and it stung like fire as he thrust in and out of you. You knew you were wincing, but you'd be damned if you'd complain now. You wanted to be brave, feeling like you'd earn his respect if you were. And as he moved in and out of you, the pain lessened and dulled, easing to be replaced with more of the sensations from before. The good ones. Before long your thighs were clamped around his hips as he plunged into you again and again. Hot, reckless kisses dropped over your face and breasts as he fucked you. Your arms and legs were wrapped around him but it was more than that. You weren't just lying there and thinking of England as you'd been advised by your mother and aunts. You were riding waves of unexpected pleasure, soaring to those heights again. Your hands became claws at his back, your nails carving into his skin. Your thighs tightened around his hips as you moved with him, wanting more, craving more.

His lips blazed a path to the sensitive skin of your throat, peppering your skin with kisses and swipes of his tongue as he rode you harder. The drive of him inside of you, his hands on your breasts, fingers teasing your pearl, drove you mad. You started begging him, pleading for release from the intense experience he was drowning you in.

"Please," you chanted.

His actions pushed you higher until, with your heart racing in your chest, he sent you flying again. Your cries filled the room as the man literally destroyed you. 

Tommy drove on above you and you knew he was now chasing his own end and you still held him. But it also occured to you in that moment that there was no birth control being used here, no condom or anything. You tried to steady your breathing, pushing down rising panic. Surely, a man like Tommy Shelby wouldn’t want a bastard running around, wouldn’t leave something like that to chance. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he had more honor than that.

 As his movements sped up, his thrusts just shy of painful, you tensed, hoping he was going to pull out of you when his time came so there'd be no worries. Above you his eyes were closed, his mouth slack. The beauty of him in that moment made you pause as he came. When you jerked beneath him, his hands collared your wrists and pushed them into the bed on either side of your head. Holding you there, he pumped himself into you growling as he did, thrust after thrust. Truthfully, you didn't have it in you to try and stop him. As if you even could.

He'd collapsed onto you, but his weight wasn't too much as his breathe rushed with yours. Running your fingers through his hair, you tried to stay calm. Your mind couldn't help jumping ahead.

Now that the deed was done, you'd be sent back home. Everyone in Small Heath knew you'd been won in an ill-advised bet. Would other men consider you an easy mark? You couldn't count on your stepfather to protect you. 

Tommy pulled himself free from you and it stung. He stretched out next to you on the bed, his finger tracing the curve of your breast. He watched you in that way of his, sharp and knowing. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

You opened your mouth, then close it. Because what do you even say to him? But he didn’t look away. And somehow, that was even worse. At the end of the day, only the arrangement mattered. His family’s honor was intact, the deal upheld. That was all that concerned him. Whatever you felt, whatever came next for you, wouldn’t change a thing. Tommy wasn’t the kind of man to concern himself with your plight.

You took the coward’s way out.

“Can I go home now?” The words left your lips, but somehow, they didn’t sound like a plea. More like a quiet resignation.

Was that reluctance you saw in his face? Something hesitant beneath the mask of indifference?

Tommy considered your question, his expression giving nothing away. But he studied you, weighing something.

With a deep sigh, he finally says, "You can."

As you start to sit up, you watched him search through your clothing on the bed, finding your simple underwear. You watch in stunned silenced as he carefully dipped them between your legs, staining the white garment with your blood. When you instinctively reached for them, alarmed by the sight of your own blood and just mortified by what he’s just done, Tommy’s gaze met yours, sharp and unyielding. Before you could touch them, he moved them out of reach, his expression leaving no room for argument.

“I’m keeping these.” The finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

Why?

You were shaking as you watched him dress, dressing yourself as quickly as you could with shaking limbs. It was over now, right? Was your blood-stained underwear proof that the arrangement was met? It was distressing. He must have noticed because without a word, he stepped to a cabinet drawer and pulled out a clean, white towel, tossing it onto your lap.

"Clean yourself up," he said, already pulling on his coat and adjusting his cap with practiced ease. "I'll be back to take you home."

And with that, he was gone.

You sat there, staring at the door he’d just disappeared through, the towel limp in your hands.

Tommy Shelby was taking you home.

A short, breathless laugh escaped before you could stop it. That would scare the shit out of your stepfather. Maybe then, he wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss you.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter at all. You didn't know what the future held for you or what impact this night would have on it.

***

Tommy’s grip tightened on the wheel, the road stretched dark and empty ahead of him. The hum of the engine the only sound between them. He didn’t glance her way. No, he could feel the weight of her presence beside him, could hear the way she shifted in her seat, the tension rolling off her in waves.

This was necessary. That’s what he told himself. A loose end tied up, an arrangement upheld.

When he pulled up to Watery Lane, the headlights cut through the mist curling over the cobbled drive, illuminating the towering structure of Arrow House. The place had never really felt like home, but it served its purpose, just like everything in his world.

He killed the engine and stepped out first, running as he rounded the car and opened the door for her. She hesitated, just for a moment, then followed without a word. He could almost see the question in her mind. Why am I here?

Because he wanted her here. He wanted her. Tonight merely sealed her fate.

Inside, the house was dimly lit. Tommy didn’t break stride, already pulling off his gloves as he spotted Polly standing at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed, dark eyes sharp as her gaze moved between him and her.

“Take her up,” he said simply, voice low and clipped. “My room. Find her something to sleep in.”

Polly didn’t move right away. Instead, she gave him a look, one of those looks. The kind that didn’t need words, the kind only Polly could give. What’s this, then?

Tommy exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, “Not now, Pol.”

With a slow shake of her head, she turned to his girl, her expression softening slightly as she gestured for her to follow.

Tommy watched for a second longer, then turned on his heel, heading straight for the whiskey decanter. He'd knock back a couple then he'd join her in sleep.

***

The house was quiet early the next morning, but Polly was already up. Tommy found her in the sitting room, a cigarette between her fingers, an untouched cup of tea going cold on the table beside her. The first rays of sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room.

She didn’t look at him right away, just took a slow drag, exhaling through her nose before finally speaking. “That the girl Arthur won in the coin toss?”

Tommy poured himself a drink, even though it was too early for one. He took his time before answering. “It is.”

Polly’s gaze locked with his. “So why is she upstairs, in your room, and not with him? Or home with her family?”

Tommy didn’t answer immediately. Just swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the way the light caught in it. He didn't feel the need to explain himself.

But Polly wasn’t stupid. Her eyes narrowed slightly, putting the pieces together faster than most ever could. She leaned back in her chair, cigarette poised between her fingers, a slow smirk curving her lips. “You wanted her.” It wasn’t a question.

Tommy took a sip of his whiskey. He didn’t confirm or deny anything. But Polly was already seeing through him, like she always did.

“You let Arthur think it was his idea.” Her voice was quieter now. “Tricked her stepfather into wagering her. Then drugged Arthur when the time came to claim her. You waited, knowing she’d panic, knowing she’d run. And who was there, ready to catch her?” She let the silence hang for a beat before answering her own question. “You.”

Tommy took another slow sip of whiskey before finally meeting Polly’s gaze.

She sighed, shaking her head as if tired of playing this game with him. “What are your intentions, Thomas?”

Another pause. He could lie or deflect. But Polly wouldn’t believe him, and they both knew it.

So instead, he took another drag of his cigarette, exhaled the smoke, and simply said, “She’s mine.”

Polly let out a breath, long and slow, before muttering, “Jesus Christ, Tommy.”

Tommy had already made his decision.

Arthur would know soon enough. There’d be shouting, maybe a drunken outburst. Tommy would hand over proof that the arrangement had been upheld, that the wager had been honored in the way that mattered. It would be enough to keep Arthur from questioning him for long.

As for the girl’s stepfather? He would be a cautionary tale. A reminder of what happened when someone gambled with the Shelbys and lost. When a debt was called, when something was taken and then never seen again. Her sudden disappearance, her absence, would be enough to send a whisper of fear through Small Heath, a warning to any fool who might ever think to challenge them again.

And in time, when the dust settled and the moment was right, he would marry her. Not because of the arrangement.

Because she was now his.

[mournlily]

jack abbot who's a little dark.. a little bad, like objectively.

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS

CW: dub-con (he's a bit of a perv and a freak in this one); jack takes photos w/o reader's knowledge, jerking off to reader, little bit stalkery, DEFINITELY not an ethical use of power, sugarbaby x sugardaddy vibes?, marking (hickeys, bruises), employer x employee (def some issues there lmfao)

he uses his attending status to look up your address on the ptmc database, he JUST SO HAPPENS to pass your apartment on the way home, and potentially maybe sees your nude silhouette through your thin curtains. your form is illuminated by the shitty old lamp you whine about at work.

he's asked you why you won't just get rid of it, only to receive the same answer each time; "it's pretty!"

he shakes his head every time, muttering about showering you in cash. jack would do it, too. he'd give you his card to blow in a heartbeat.

he might just stand stock-still on the footpath, looking up at your window, as the cool morning air bristles his arm hairs. maybe jack bites his lip and glances around quickly – no-one! – before reaching down and squeezing his rapidly-hardening cock through his cargos.

you did so well today. he's so proud. he's so glad you're on night-shift so he can look at you during every spare moment he has, and he's even gladder he's an attending so he can boss you about.

you tease. you bite back. he likes it. loves it. you stand against his authority when necessary and it gets him hard.

jack thinks about you when he collapses onto his bed during the early hours, bones aching, dick hard. he fucks his fist to you every day. pictures of you he's snagged over the months: some of you smiling, eyebrow cocked in an unimpressed manner, others where you're bent over, unknowing that he's even taken a photo.

he wants to slip a precious, expensive, glittering band onto your left ring finger. he wants to fuck you so hard you feel it the next day, the next shift, the next week.

jack abbot wants to mark up your neck and bruise your hips with his own. he wants everyone to know that he owns you, even if you might not even know it yet.

[jester-of-hearts]

feeling deviously fem and i'm going to make it the entire realms problem. i want to wear scandalously low cut dresses that hug my body like a second skin. i wanna pin a knight down with my heel over their chest plate while the slit up my leg shows off so much of my thigh. i want to entice a princess to let me into her bed and off of her window ledge, lest she want the entire kingdom to see what i'd do to her. i want to ride an innocent prince until he cries and then laugh when he gets overstimulated, watching how my hair drapes around him like a dark curtain. i want to catch a maiden in my web and look her over—watching as her arousal drips down her thighs with devilish hunger. tempt the huntsmen into my woods and turn him into the hunted, happy to claw and bite and mark with a dark lip paint. offer the blacksmith a trade for the best metals in the land for nights of pleasure. oh the terror i'll bring to the realm.

[badger-and-bloom]

daniel molloy(x afab reader) nsfw

(my daniel pussy eater propaganda) mdni!!!

i just know daniel would eat you out like he's starving!

his arms slung around your thighs pulling you closer as he dives into your cunt, and it makes his biceps bulge out, showing off just how muscular he still is at his tender age of sixty-nine.

he'd be pushing you down and manoeuvring you to close your legs around his head, trapping him, sufficating him, and he would pull your hand into his curls so you can tug at them.

his stubble scratching up your sensitive inner thighs, a delicious painful friction against your pussy.

he'd be groaning and whining into you. pretty nose rubbing your clit as he tongue fucks you. he's so eager and he would hold you down until he is done, not until you've come. whining and squirming when you're overstimulated won't help, those arms aren't just eye-candy, he has the strength to hold you down until he's satisfied!

especially if we're talking vampire daniel!

[domestically-loving-monsters]

The 'No Touch' Contract

Warnings/Themes: Male Demon x AFAB!Reader, monster x reader, dominant reader, mutual masturbation, fingering (Reader receiving) weird dick description, dirty talk, mentions of dub-con, mentions of rough use, rough handling, small mentions of blood.

Notes: Some of you begged for it and now it is here! Thank you for spurring my motivation into getting this written. I had alot of fun with this pair. I'll definitely be working on other scenes focused on this story-line. And hopefully, eventually, get a proper story flushed out.

As always! Enjoy! And feedback or constructive criticism is welcome!

“Oh, you poor thing.” You made your tone drip with honey. Trailing the tips of your fingers along the twisting horns- rewarding yourself with a guttural growl that made the very air around your core vibrate. “Look at you kneeling.”

Claws as black as polished obsidian ripped through the bed-sheets. The ear-splitting noise of silk and cotton tearing apart like butter added a rather thrilling edge to the scene between your legs.

Where your Demon’s head hung low between your thighs. His nose was so close to your slick folds you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

When he had pulled you to the edge of the bed, hand as hot as fire wrapping around your ankle, tugging you effortlessly towards him; you thought you had finally made him snap.

Agoris had watched you - for what felt like hours - as you played with yourself. Nestled in a nest of blankets and pillows; naked - save for the silk veil that you had draped over your breasts. A tease for the Demon who was demanding you to break your contract and let him fuck you.

But instead of giving into your need, you made him suffer. Smirking every time that long thick tail of his twitched behind him. Coiling tightly against his legs while he watched your fingers slide between your folds.

Every whine from you caused his chest to expand with a hiss. You were sure his hands were clenched into fists to keep them from touching you.

But now, you left your pussy alone. Anticipating Agoris to lunge forward and encase your centre with his mouth.

Instead, a long, thick tongue dragged over his lips. The slow, deep pull of his breath made you want to whimper. But you clasped your mouth shut. Refusing to give Agoris the reactions he so desperately craved. Even if he acted as if he could taste you through the air.

When he spoke, Agoris’ words were barely distinguishable. Spat through the constant rumble in his throat.

“When you finally give in, I'm going to enjoy taking back what you've kept from me.”

A shiver ghosted up your spine. Grinning, you hooked your hand under his chin and forced his gaze to meet yours. Eyes full of brimstone and hellfire. Spite and hunger broiling in a pit of pure want.

“You’re so confident I’ll break first. But I’m not the one on my knees.”

The smouldering coals of Hell erupted into a blaze. But Agoris made no move to retaliate. His smirk did enough damage to your heart as it was.

“Yet.” That one word had your pulse galloping.

Pulling his chin from your hand, Agoris lowered his face back to his sanctuary between your legs, “You’re not on your knees yet.”

Another shiver ran through you when the breath of his voice fanned over your aching pussy. Accompanied by a layer of goose-bumps that rippled down along your arms.

Agoris watched the raised skin with a filthy grin full of fangs and a tongue that licked along the largest canines.

“Your body wants me. Give in and I’ll satiate every need that keeps you up at night.”

“Not without taking everything you want first.”

The laugh from him was nothing but pure sin. “When you let me finally plunder your pussy I’ll take everything you have and more.” He ripped his claws out of the bed, spilling feathers and stuffing all over the floor.

His eyes flicked up to you when he reached down to wrap a trembling fist around his engorged length.

“When you’re limp around my cock, those pretty eyes full of tears, I’ll still take what I’m owed.”

It was your turn to alleviate the dryness from your mouth. Your bravado became a puddle in your mind as Agoris stroked himself, slow and deliberate. No matter how many times you saw him- it was still a shock at how frightfully long he was. From the silky black fur that blanketed his thighs, a cock- mottled with black and red patches on smooth bare skin -emerged to hang heavily between his knees.

Bowed as he was, the round flat head rested against the stone floor. Bobbing in a pool of his own pre-cum that leaked from a long but thin slit.

And now, as Agoris shifted his hips and rubbed a tight fist along his own shaft, he could nearly lick his own bead of silvery excitement.

“Every second, I waste not buried inside you - tearing your walls apart to make this fit -is a second of agony, I will burn into your flesh when you’re folded beneath me.” His fingers squeezed the marbled cock so hard you feared it would pop.

“You think I'll throw you aside after a week of using you like a toy?” Agoris’ voice pitched on a gasp as he cupped his heavy balls with his free hand. Watching you with a gaze so hungry a fresh wave of warmth spilled from your core.

“Try mocking me after a lifetime of my cock molding your pussy to my needs. A thousand years of marking, branding- owning -your pleasure.

Your hands move on their own. Sliding down along your body to tangle with the mess between your legs.

Agoris’ eyes followed your fingers like a starved animal. Panting grunts rasped from his chest as the head of his cock bounced in rhythm to the iron-vice grip.

“I’ll make you warm my cock…Make you beg for it.” A string of demonic curses tumble from his lips when you part your pussy-lips for him. Allowing him to see your leaking hole. “Your pussy will be bruised by my tongue. Stained by my seed. When I have you- only my name will fall from those pretty little lips.”

Your thighs trembled and Agoris rushed forward as your climax spilled from your body. You kept pleasuring yourself. Feverishly rolling your clit between your fingers until your back arched off the bed and your mouth parted with soundless moans.

You heard Agoris suckling on something. Sloppy wet sounds pulled your mind from the blissful fog to the crown of horns that were pressed hard against your legs. Keeping your thighs apart. But no wondrous tongue ploughed your core.

Instead, Agoris’ lips were wrapped around a section of the blanket that was now stained with your finish.

His growls turned to needy whimpers. A sound so beautifully pathetic your voice shook on a whine- watching the delicious slide of his fist over the long expanse of his cock.

The dappled skin was slick with his own pre that was now dribbling seamlessly from the gaping slit.

The flat head had swelled. The very sight of it made your thighs clench around Agoris’ head and the Demon snarled.

The hand fondling his balls flew up and shoved your legs apart. You yelped as his claws scraped down your soft flesh, leaving red welts.

“Keep them open.” Agoris hissed. His gaze glued to your pussy as you slipped two fingers inside yourself. The ease at which your walls welcomed your digits caused a violent twitch to jerk Agoris’ hips. As if he was imagining it was him sliding in and out of you.

You made a show of your own pleasure. Rocking your hips, gasping and mewling- making noises you usually didn’t make while pistoning yourself with your fingers.

All the while watching Agoris fuck into his hand. Spilling pre all over the floor and fist until he struggled to keep a hold on himself.

“F-Fuck-”

Bracing himself against the bed, Agoris shifts so his hips snapped rapidly into his tight fist.

The bed creaked beneath you.

The entire frame shook and you laughed excitedly as Agoris rose so he towered over you on the edge of the mattress. Still kneeling between your legs but now angled so his abused cock hovered above your waist.

The tip slapped against your stomach with each pass of his fist. Leaving thick droplets of silver against your skin that felt as if they were burning into your flesh.

Then you noticed the changes.

He was transforming. The shell-like magic that compressed his large form was cracking. You spotted thick, spine-like ridges breaching through the smooth red skin of his jawline. Creating a mane of thorns that decorated the sharp lines of his face and down along his throat. His fist doubled in size, briefly swallowing his cock between his fingers until the shaft joined the shift and became thicker than your own leg.

The round flat head twitched, pre-cum oozing from the slit. And your eyes widened as the peak fluttered open. The flat crest spread apart from the glorious split to form a wide flower-like end. The petals of velvety skin bloomed with a bright red color, the centre now a sharp point that seemed to pulsate with need.

Nubs appeared along the mottled skin- rounded pebbles that you watched with fascination throb with every rapid pass of Agoris’ hand.

The Demon’s eyes were half closed. His mouth hanging open in a dazed expression that had your heart racing.

You didn’t care for your own pleasure anymore. Watching this creature of sin become undone by you and his fist was as exhilarating as any climax.

“Agoris!” You shoved two more fingers into your aching pussy, arching your back as you screamed the Demon’s name. Acting out another finish.

A roar had your ears ringing- a burst of blistering energy shook the room as Agoris pounced on you. A slick skinned hand wrapped around your throat. Nearly encasing your entire chest beneath his palm as his claws squeezed your airways until you couldn’t breathe.

“Give me consent!” His voice was a volcanic eruption. Fire and smoke choked his throat, billowing out the corners of his mouth as he snarled above you. You shook your head. Eyes bulging out of your head and your pulse bellowing in your ears.

But you didn’t give in. You writhed beneath him until you felt the blazing heat of his cock against your throbbing core. Greedily bucking against your own fingers just enough to mix his slick with yours.

Agoris’ voice rattled your chest. The harsh Hellish voice burning your ears with words you didn’t understand.

Beads of blood were dripping from his claws that punctured your neck. And you laughed almost manically- watching Agoris through your lashes; rolling your hips so his fist ghosted over your warm cunt as he still chased his finish.

“What’s wrong, Agoris?” You forced your voice through the constricted airways. Gasping for air whenever his fingers flexed. “Can’t cum on your own?”

You saw the snap.

The sudden feral gleam that took Agoris away and replaced him with a beast.

And in that moment, you almost felt true fear.

With movement too quick for you to register, Agoris flipped you onto your stomach and shoved your thighs so far apart he pulled a cry of pain from you. The claws around your throat wrapped around the back of your head, and you had to struggle to turn your face to the side so you could breathe.

Tears blurred your vision as pain sparked along your scalp from where he had you pinned.

Then you felt him mount you. The bed groaned as he crawled on top of you. Thighs as thick as tree-trunks encasing your human body beneath him in a blazing cage of heat.

And with one last wet slide of his fist, Agoris let his cock slap against your back. And your eyes widened as the weight of it rested against your spine.

“Give me consent.” His voice wasn’t one you recognized. It was heavy. Demanding. So full of hunger every inch of you became feverish.

“No.” You managed to say. Spit flew from your lips as you tried to fight the hand that held you down. “If you want me, you’re going to have to take me.”

It was getting hard to stay awake. You couldn’t pull enough air into your chest in this position; not with the weight of him crushing you into the bed and the hand trapping half your face into the thick blanket.

The heat from his body- his cock -felt like you were being branded by his skin. And the smallest twitch of his hips had your breath hitching- Then he was gone.

Cold wind swallowed your back, and you gasped for air, scrambling further up the bed until your back rested against the plush pillows.

Just as Agoris ripped open the chamber door and went to leave.

“Where are you going?” You demanded breathlessly.

“To find a warm hole to fuck.” Was his growling reply before the door slammed shut. The sound of it echoing through the room like a clap of thunder.

He left you alone in a room, reeking of fire and smoke. With your core still aching, pulsating for something to penetrate it.

You grumbled and threw yourself back against the pillows and began playing with yourself again.

But frustratingly, without your audience, another climax was beyond you.

-------------

Ko-fi / Patreon

Requests are open on both sites! I hope you enjoyed this filthy piece of writing ❤️

[doiliedaze]

Show ‘em

Warnings: exhibition, public, fingering (reader receiving), mean!sev (kinda), manipulation?? so dub-con (putting this to be safe I’m not sure), slightly forced submission??, humiliation

Genre: smut

A/N: omg guys thank y’all for interacting with my work the way y’all have, it makes me feel so warm!! I found my folks °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

I think this goes under dub-con because Sevika touches reader without asking but she knows reader would consent and reader does consent even though she whines and feels shame.

───────┈ · ·

It was another night filled with laughter, drinking and gambling.

In the lanes you’re known as Sevika’s girl and she makes sure you remember it too. Sometimes her jealousy can get the best of her and she gets overprotective but she doesn’t want to lose you. She understands your a ray of sunshine down here and who doesn’t like the light? In her eyes it’s to make sure no one tampers with your light.

People tend to try her, especially when it comes to you. Always making jokes that if Sevika looses a game they should be able to touch you. Comments like this aren’t new to her but they have been something she’s been hearing more lately. In her mind there’s only one way to solve this; show you off only in a way she can!

So here you are on Sevika’s lap, skirt bunched at your hips, panties around your ankle and bare pussy dripping onto Sev’s thigh.

“Vika please” you whisper in her neck hiding with shame and arousal. Annoyed she pulled two fingers out to slap your pussy harshly, “be quiet, tryna focus” she mumbles looking at her cards.

This started because you were talking to a close friend and an asshole was in her ear talking shit and she hit her limit. It’s honestly a power trip for her, doesn’t help that she’s a bit tipsy but she has the prettiest thing in the lanes that everyone could see and never touch.

Your weeping cunt clenches around her fingers, that familiar sensation building in your stomach. “No more Vika” you whine, eyes lined with fat tears and your plump lip trembling. You claw at anything you can touch, distracting her again.

For that she added another finger and curled them inside you forcing a loud moan out of you, “can I focus on the game please?” She refuses to talk to you in a disrespectful manner even if her actions are disrespecting you, but you have to understand this is for your own good.

Your hips fight against her fingers despite it feeling so good. Sure you’d rather not be fingered in a bar but you’d do anything to please her, she’s your Sevika and you love her more than anything. Your suppose to listen to the ones you love right? Follow their commands, especially when they are protecting you. At least that’s what she’s whispering in your ear.

“Be my good girl and take it.” She states as she wins her round. “I’m your good girl” you whisper as you suck her fingers in. A shit eating grin can’t help but grow on Sevika’s face. Loving the feeling of you slowly submitting. This is conformation you learned what she was tryna teach you, teach everyone. She owns you.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: I had no idea how to end this🥹 hope you all liked it though, I just wanted to execute this idea and try my hand at one of my darker ideas!!

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout

(Dividers- @dollywons)

[morningstarfs]

A Room in a Dead End [1/3]

✮⋆˙ Author's Note: IT'S JUNELEB AND I JUST HIT 100 FOLLOWERS!!! I know this number is not much for many of you, but for me is such a great achievement!!! Not being a native english speaker and even so 100 of you decided to just... READ MY STUFF?? Geez!!! To celebrate all of it, I wrote THIS!!! I do get not everyone will vibe with this fic though, as someone with an invisible disability, I miss reading stories where I can feel a bit more represented/depicted, so be aware, this reader has a disability and the story is pretty much dark and gore as well, with many adult themes. Not proof-readed (one day who knows, maybe I'll have a beta reader) -> MDNI

✮⋆˙ Summary: You woke up in a strange room, with a strange man beside you. You have no memories of this place, no memories of ever being here and the worst part, you cannot leave because he took your leg. Meanwhile he looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the whole world, like you're a pup that needs to be taken care of. He feeds you, tucks you under the bed while he keeps you locked inside a room.

✮⋆˙ Pairing: Caleb x Non-mc! female! reader

✮⋆˙ Tags: Non-mc reader, afab reader, use of petnames, gendered language, pregnancy kink, pregnancy scare, violence against females, violence against everyone to be honest, street fights, murdering attempts, actual murder happens, smut, possessive and obsessive behavior, no use of Y/N, violence to minors, death of oc, Post-apocalyptic scenario, Caleb goes completely nuts, more than he already is, zombie-ish scenario, cannon-divergence, alternative universe, non-con, dub-con, things get very messy for a while

✮⋆˙Taglist: @entropic-catto @animegamerfox

Waking up is a constant effort in your life—it always has been, and this time was no different. The real question was *how* it happened. You opened your eyes slowly, feeling every part of your body anew, and a tired sigh escaped your lips. Even though you had been asleep mere seconds ago, the exhaustion was overwhelming, and your head throbbed so badly it made you nauseous when you tried to sit up in bed.  

The room around you was, at the very least, peculiar. Even though you couldn’t focus perfectly on your surroundings, you could still sense the strangeness this place carried.  

The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, revealing a dense, dark forest outside. A sliver of sunlight hit the glass, showing that this place was in a clearing, but even so, the ground was hard to see beneath all the foliage. Beside the window, a shelf was attached to a desk cluttered with monitors, computers, and other equipment you wouldn’t even know how to name. Some looked like printers, others like devices—maybe tracking systems—along with keyboards, mouses, tangled cables, connectors, servers, desktops on the floor, and a few laptops hooked up to extra monitors. What stood out the most was that there were only two chairs around the long L-shaped desk.  

The bed you were lying on was enormous—big enough for three people. The blanket you clutched was soft, warm, and wide, perfect for a freezing night. To your left, another desk was pressed against the wall, and next to it, a door. On the desk sat a plate of food, seemingly prepared recently—the smell of fried fish was strong and, frankly, mouthwatering. As simple as the meal looked—some vegetables, rice, and fried fish—the aroma was irresistible.  

Before you could even think about the door beside the desk, your stomach growled, a clear signal that you needed to eat. At that moment, your body moved on its own, but when you tried to place your left foot on the floor to push yourself up, your support gave way, and you found yourself falling, eyes wide.  

THUD. Your heart raced, arms trembling. You looked down to where your left foot should have been… but there was nothing. Just a stump ending at the knee. Panic seized your thoughts. You frantically looked around, your throat releasing an inhuman, terrified, broken scream. There was no controlling it—your body screamed inside, fear and despair the only emotions you could process. With your hands clutching your head, you barely heard the sound of the door opening or the footsteps—much larger than yours—rushing toward you. Only when someone knelt in front of you did you realize there was someone else in the room.  

Like something out of a horror movie, your eyes slowly traced the figure before you. Two muscular, wet legs kneeling, a towel draped around his waist, barely covering halfway down his thighs; a sculpted abdomen where veins were faintly visible. The guy’s chest was broad and toned, completely hairless, his arms thick and strong—yet he held your shoulders as if you were made of glass. Finally, your gaze landed on his face, and if not for the panic of realizing your missing limb, you might have been mesmerized.  

Violet eyes and a youthful face with dark brown hair parted to the side stared back at you. As familiar as he seemed, you couldn’t place where you knew him from.  

Something in your expression must have tipped him off to your confusion because his demeanor softened, and a smile spread across his lips.  

“Easy, Cookie. Don’t worry. It’s me, Caleb. I put your breakfast—well, lunch—on the desk. That was insensitive of me, huh?” As he spoke, your body kept shaking. His presence didn’t exactly calm you—everything was wrong, and the worst part was that you couldn’t even *feel* your knee, like you were drugged. “There, it’s okay. I’ll put you back in bed, alright?”  

His voice was light, almost playful. Despite your obvious distress, he kept smiling, moving slowly as he lifted you effortlessly and placed you back on the bed. Faster than you expected, you scrambled backward, hitting the headboard and curling up.  

“It’s fine. I was taking a shower—didn’t think you’d wake up so soon… I’ll bring the plate over, okay?” He spoke like you were a cornered animal, and honestly, given the size difference, maybe you were. He stood, grabbed the plate with utensils, and brought it to you, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Here. Eat as much as you want. I can make more if you’re still hungry.”  

Your eyes flicked between the food and him. He still wore that gentle smile, his body radiating calm—even if it wasn’t helping much.  

“W-Who are you? W-Where are we?” were the first words out of your mouth. Your body trembled, tears streaming down your cheeks. Those questions were painful, but worse was the way he looked surprised. *Of course* you knew each other—why else would you be in pajamas in a stranger’s bed in the middle of a forest?  

The last thing you remembered was being with friends, a game night playing tabletop RPG. You hadn’t even drunk that night—just a snack, some fries, and soda. Waking up like this was… terrifying.  

“You don’t remember me, Cookie?” His voice carried… confusion. “It’s me, Caleb. We’re in our room, inside Facility 033-Alpha.”  

Your head throbbed, your throat dry. *Facility 033-Alpha? Our room?* What did that even mean? You couldn’t recall *anything* about either.  

Caleb, sensing your hesitation, sighed deeply. Leaning closer, he handed you the plate, then brushed his fingers against your cheek.  

“Here’s what we’ll do… I’ll stay right here for whatever you need, okay? Eat a little, I’ll finish drying off, and then I’ll keep you company, alright?”  

With no choice, you nodded. Holding the plate with shaky hands, you started eating, closing your eyes briefly just to savor the taste—it was, without a doubt, the best food you’d ever had.  

Caleb watched every movement, as if missing a second of you would be catastrophic. Finally, he stood, carefully taking the plate from you and placing it under the desk.  

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said, waiting for your nod before leaving through the same door he’d come from.  

It didn’t take long for him to return, now wearing black sweatpants and a smile. It was impossible not to notice how sculpted his body was—broad, muscular, yet covered in scars, some downright frightening.  

What you *hadn’t* noticed earlier, in your panic, was his mechanical arm. His right arm was a literal prosthetic, and it made you curious—it was incredibly advanced, movements flawlessly fluid.  

Noticing your stare, he chuckled and stretched the arm out, sitting beside you on the bed, much closer this time.  

“Curious about my arm, Cookie? Feel free to look… And I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a matching leg yet.” He sighed, looking uncomfortable. “I know you’re confused, but… what *do* you remember?”  

You swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes, staring at the blanket instead, your voice barely audible.  

“The last thing I remember… was at a friend’s house playing RPG.”  

The silence was so heavy you had to look at him. When you did, something in his demeanor had shifted—like he was calculating, planning. A thousand thoughts raced through your head. His reaction could only mean one thing: you’d forgotten *way* more than he expected.  

“H-How much did I forget?” Your voice shook more than you wanted—any semblance of composure was gone.  

Caleb just smiled and shook his head, saying it was only a few months. But something inside you *screamed* that it was a lie. More than anything, your gut told you his face was a perfect mask hiding something huge. He averted his gaze, clearing his throat and scratching his head. “It’s fine, you’ll remember everything, I’m sure. Anyway… want to take a shower?”  

Back to that easygoing tone, like nothing had happened minutes ago. Standing calmly, he offered his hand, helping you up—well, hop—toward the door he’d come from.  

On the other side was a windowless room with a small kitchenette and another door leading to a bathroom with a tub and shower. You assumed the other door in the room was an exit. The bathroom had no windows either, just an exhaust fan, a mirror so high you could only see from your chest up.  

Leaning against the wall, you took a deep breath, trying to process everything. Months of missing memories, waking up in a strange place in the middle of a forest, a giant man with a metal arm serving you food, the weirdest room you’d ever seen—but just as you started pulling off your shirt, you realized Caleb was still inside.  

“Hm?” He tilted his head, smiling like it was the most normal thing in the world to stay while you undressed.  

“Can you leave?” you asked, incredulous.  

“Ah… But I… fine. Sure.” Like a sad puppy, he lowered imaginary ears, tucked an invisible tail between his legs, and left as if it pained him.  

Finally alone, you started slowly undressing, something caught your eye—your body was covered in small bruises, and between your legs, something you hadn’t noticed before: bite marks and what looked like… dried cum.  

With wide eyes and feeling your face heathen entirely, you tried to look at the small mirror the bathroom had. It was quite high for your normal size, probably working well enough for Caleb, but even so you could still notice more love bites and hickeys he had left on your body. 

“Is everything ok?” he asked still outside, but close enough to the door to be heard. 

“Y-Yeah!!” You shouted back and decided to open the sprinkler. No matter what had happened before, you still couldn’t picture yourself really sleeping with him.

No matter, you would figure everything out eventually so you decided to just shower like normally. When you finished, there were fresh clothes and panties for you, Caleb got inside the bathroom and changed your stuff, leaving a nice note too. 

Hey cookie! I’m heading out, gonna grab some stuff for us to eat. Just wait for me ok? I’ll be back soon =)

You dressed yourself and moved towards the bedroom, still feeling far too shy about what you found between your legs. How could you forget this type of relationship with someone? Thinking about those things, you moved to the bed and laid a bit, feeling tired from all the amount of information that had fallen on you that day. 

.  

.  

.  

Your eyes were closed until a bright light forced them open. The bedroom door was ajar, and no one was inside. You crawled out of bed, carefully using the walls to hop on your right foot without falling, making your way to the main room—its door also open.  

Freedom! you thought. Finally, you could escape this hellhole, return to your friends and family. It was so close—just one step away—until a hand yanked you backward.  

There he was, smiling that unsettlingly calm smile. He pulled you against him, arms trapping yours, his face leaning into your ear.  

“Trying to run, Cookie? Why would you do that, hmm?” His voice was sweet, but his grip was like steel. “How?”  

He asked again, silkily mocking, “How do you plan to escape? Crawling?” You could almost hear the laugh in his tone.  

“You don’t have a leg… How will you get out like this?” His hands slid down, pushing up your shirt, fingers tracing your ribs while the other slipped into your shorts.  

“P-Please…” You started crying, trembling, powerless against someone so much bigger. “P-Please don’t touch me…”  

“You know, I do feel a little sad. I regret it a bit.” He kept going, pushing you onto the floor, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I really do love your legs. It’s so pretty. That’s why I left you one.”  

With you pinned, his body covered yours, his hands gripping your right leg as he nuzzled against it. “But you still want to escape… What should I do, hmm?”  

“P-Please… S-Stop,” you begged louder, panic surging as his tongue dragged up your heel. “P-PLEASE STOP!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!”  

Then, ignoring your pleas, he bit down and ripped out your tendon, blood spraying everywhere. Your skin is nothing more than something to be feasted upon while you cry and scream, trying to squirm away. 

You jolted awake, heart pounding, tears flooding, body shaking. Before you could take notice of your surroundings, you heard two male voices coming from the living room. One of the voices was quite familiar, it was Caleb speaking, he seemed to be discussing something important with another male, until you heard the name “Zayne” leaving his lips. 

“I’m serious, Zayne” he said, his gentle tone now sounding so angry, Caleb was almost growling. “I went out and locked everything, but watched the cameras and she simply went to sleep. This is the first time. I need to know if she truly lost her memories or if it’s just a trick.

The other man sighed as if he had heard that many times and was forced to take care of all the tantrums Caleb threw his way. 

“I can only tell you that if she’s taken to my laboratory, I can run an examination on her. Besides that, I can only check superficially if she’s ok. You complained about nightmares, right?” 

“Yeah… She’s been having an awful load of them. I’m worried this stress might affect her.” 

“Right, let’s get it on with it, then. Show me the way and I’ll check if there’s any condition that you should be aware of… Although, I’m serious when I tell you to bring her to the lab.” 

You closed your eyes quickly as possible, nervous, but trying to look like you’re sleeping as best as you could. You still wanted to know who that Zayne was and if there was a lab… Maybe you could gather more information about this whole place and what was going on. 

They opened the door, but never turned the light on, you felt cold hands touching your left wrist and so you complained. You whimpered, very softly, moving gently and doing your best to act like you were truly sleeping —it seemed like it was working quite well. 

“Be careful, I don’t want to disturb her sleep.” Caleb complained to Zayne, but kept quiet otherwise. 

The doctor seemed to work feeling your pulse and even looking for anything on your body that could look like a spot or any indicator you felt pain, but as he kept evaluating you, he couldn’t find anything. You were satisfied that it seemed he was leaving until your leg started hurting and the only problem in this? You did not have a leg anymore, not that one. 

The phantom limb syndrome. You tried to not move too much, but at the same time, tried to keep the fake acting that you were sleeping, maybe having an issue during sleep with your leg or anything similar. They fell for the trick and you heard Caleb complaining something again to Zayne. 

“It’s normal in patients that have amputated a limb. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do. If the pain becomes unbearable, please let me know, I’ll try to assist in the best way possible” the other man sighed after making sure the problem was your missing leg and not anything else. 

He excused himself not much longer after saying that. You, on the other hand, kept turning around and whining due to the pain, even sobbing. At least you were about to put an act to Caleb. 

“Ay, Cookie, it’s okay.” he whispered in your ear after taking a few clothes articles off, sitting on your side of the bed and pulling you to his chest. “I’m telling you, it’s okay. I’m here, I’ll take good care of you, ok?” 

His voice was gentle while his hands started to roam around your body. Softly you started to open your eyes, as if you had just woken up, the pain still clouding your judgment. 

“Hey Cookie. Good morning to you too” he cooed, kissing your forehead, his hand big on your belly, caressing you there. “I’m going to make the pain go away, ok? Just trust me.”

He traced from your forehead to your cheeks and then neck, earning a few whimpers from you. Caleb’s hand started to move under the elastic of your shorts and you started to panic, trying to move him away. 

“P-Please stop… S-Stop Caleb!!” You whined a bit louder this time, maybe the other guy could come back and help you out in this situation. You tried to push him away, moving your face to the other side. 

“It’s okay, Cookie. I’ll make you feel better, ok? Don’t worry, I never hurt you before, not going to do that now.” he whispered in your ears, gently caressing your thigh before moving his fingers under your panties as well, finding your softest spot. “This way you won’t have to fake that you’re sleeping in front of me again” 

Hearing his words caught you out of surprise. Your eyes wide open and you started to tremble, trying harder than ever to squirm away, crying louder and louder, trying to push his arm to the other side. 

“No no, you’re not being nice now.” He sighed, laying you on your stomach and before you could pull away from him, he dragged both of your hands to the front and opened the nightstand, getting something out of there. “Be good, I’ve been taking care of you and you’ve been lying to me…” another sigh while he got your handcuffs and ‘tied’ you to the headboard. 

You were in panic, not only not knowing who this man was but now he was even tormenting you, abusing your body in a way you could not handle, not even being able to kick him without losing your balance. You were almost screaming, muscles completely contracted in fear.

“See, it’s ok. I’ll always forgive you in the end, but I gotta help you with the pain, I know you’re not faking this one at least.” His voice came from behind you, kissing your lower back while he took your shorts and panties away, his face going directly to your most intimate part. “Look at you, being difficult now huh? It’s ok, cookie. I’m going to kiss you better and make you feel that nice way again” 

And with that, he started kissing your cunt, making out with your folds, licking long stripes from your clit to the back and although you were scared, afraid and nervous, your body started to answer to his caresses. Little by little you felt yourself becoming dizzy, your pussy more wet not only with his saliva, but with your slick too. 

A traitor's body indeed, giving in to the sensation of his tongue and making you feel like this was good after all. 

“Hmm… You’re doing wonderful, Cookie” he talked you through it a bit, his right hand holding your right leg so you wouldn’t fall while he ate you out like a starved man. “You’re doing so well, princess, I’m going to make the pain go away, ok?” 

He kept licking you, using his free fingers to prepare you better, moving them slowly inside of you. Caleb fed from your essence as if it was a delicacy of the gods, a given blessing, his fingers hitting a spot that made you see stars. 

“You’re doing so good for me, cookie.” He whispered against your clit and made you clamp hard on his fingers. Your eyes were star crossed, your body trembling to each one of his touches, until your body gave up and came, that white hot feeling that got you limp, only being held by the handcuffs and Caleb’s hands.

The brunette kept licking you, making you ride the high of your release, until he finally left your hips to rest on the bed. A chuckle that came from deep within him made you shiver, your face completely flushed, body heat emanating from him. 

“You’re always so dramatic with these things, cookie. Acting all pouty and spoiled like you don’t want it and at the same time melting on my hand…” he said softly and you wished you hadn't heard him, your body was tired, your mind exploding, but then, you heard him shuffling his clothes. 

Fear made you aware again, looking behind to see what he was about —even though you already knew, deep inside of you. Caleb had the body of a god, his muscles bulging under your attention, he had that lazy smile in his face as if your panic meant only a plaything to him. As if you were acting cute and he was just giving what you truly wanted. 

The worst part was when your eyes caught the sheer size of him. His member was enormous, huge and girthy, veiny and twitching in anticipation. You started to cry again, tears falling down your face as you tried to squirm away from him, to close your legs somehow. 

“Shhh shhh… It’s okie, Cookie. Why do you need to act so difficult right now, hmm?” Caleb gave you a gentle slap on your ass cheek, aligning his shaft to your core. Slowly and carefully, he started to penetrate you, sinking inside of you, inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter. 

You felt like you were being speared in the middle, your tears falling copiously from your face and when you tried to pull away again, he held your hips tight. You whined and whimpered, complaining how big he was, that he was hurting you even if that wasn’t true —since it seemed your traitor’s body was somehow used to his advances, to his touches, to his intrusion. 

Slowly you gave way to him, until Caleb bottomed out and shivered. He exhaled slowly, his big hands gently holding your hips, fingers tracing circles on your skin as if the brunette was trying to calm you down. He moved, his chest touching your back when he started whispering to your ear and kissing your neck. 

“Cookie, you are so fucking good to me. I promise I’ll make you feel so good” He whispered, his hips moving slowly. 

With each thrust, you tried to hold back any noise you could make, only tears spilling out from your eyes as you wanted to run away, go back to family and friends and wake up from this terrible nightmare, but Caleb was relentless and when he noticed you were not making noises on purpose, he started pinching your clit. 

His fingers were playing around with you, moving in a way only he knew, in a way your body couldn’t deny him any longer. Closing your eyes shut, you tried your best to stay still, to be controlled, to not moan, but Caleb was dedicated to making your body go against your commands. 

Moans spilled out from your mouth, your body acted on its own, slick leaking from your weepy cunt, making the way he slid in so tortuously delicious that you couldn’t stop the clamping. 

“F-Fuck… You take me so well, cookie… I-I’m so close” he whispered in your ears, making you shiver purely from his voice, his hips hitting your ass and his balls hitting your clit from behind. 

You closed your eyes once more, before you could bite down your own lip to hold on a moan from your imminent release, you felt Caleb’s hand pushing against your mouth. His bionic arm was strong enough to keep touching your clit and supporting your weight. 

“B-Bite me, Cookie…” He whispered, his voice was so thick with desire you could almost see hearts in his eyes, his face dusted with pink. “Y-You’re such a good girl for me…” and so you did. You bit Caleb with all your strength —which wasn’t much at that moment, but enough to draw a little bit of blood.

He kept slamming against your pussy, his climax coming not long after yours, as if the fact you bit him made him come even harder. Long and thick ropes of cum coating your womb while he rode his high for a few more minutes. 

You were truly spent, exhausted to the bone, eyes dropping close when he freed your hands and finally pulled out, hissing from the loss of contact. He closed his eyes for the last time and sighed, seeing your poor body giving up and falling on the bed. 

Caleb pushed with two fingers, his cum inside of you again, sighing happily, kissing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings to your ears. Before darkness took you, your wish was to wake up from this terrible nightmare, hopefully this was all it was. A nightmare.

© morningstarfirstsin original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating