jackson--t

[jackson--t]

Piano Lesson

Short One Shot, all fluff. ❤

Words: 1.3 k Warnings: too early christmas shit. 🤗

♡----------♡-----------♡

Arthur smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth pulled up narrowly, before he raised his eyebrows gently and returned Eames' sidelong glance.

"You need to be gentler, Eames." he said softly, ignoring Eames' rough snort. Arthur licked his lips lightly, then placed his hands next to Eames' on the piano, adjusting his body.

"Gently, you have to press the keys down very gently. With feeling, not like a gorilla trying to squash a banana," he murmured, and began to play the soft, delicate notes again with his slender fingers - he was showing Eames for the third time now. Eames' body beside him stiffened slightly, but Arthur could still feel the immense warmth emanating from the bulky body. That they both fit on the stool in front of the beautiful piano was still a mystery to Arthur.

He finished his short, slightly melancholy piece, his brown eyes back on Eames, who looked at him with a strange mixture of admiration and amusement. The eyes positively sparkled, and Arthur could not help feeling a faint trace of red on his cheeks.

"I don't play like a gorilla. I'm a fucking genius. Okay, watch, huh, darling." Eames said amusedly, interlacing his fingers to stretch them in a would-be professional gesture. When they cracked slightly, Arthur raised his eyebrows again in amusement, and couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle from his throat.

"Whatever." he said, watching as Eames rested his heavy and broad fingers on the piano's keys. It took a few breaths for Eames to finally move his heavy fingers, but he did so with the same rudeness as before. Arthur rolled his eyes, sliding his slender hands over Eames'. They were warm.

"Eames, stop, stop, stop. Your hands don't weigh ten tons, okay?"

"Of course they do. Have you ever had them on your body?"

"No, God forbid."

"Then you don't know either. Such a load to have such heavy hands, darling. You could show me."

Arthur snarled. "I've shown you, more than once."

Eames grinned broadly, turning his upper body curiously toward Arthur in the already limited space. Arthur blinked slightly as Eames' heavy gaze met him, eyebrows raised again.

"Show me."

"No, not again."

"Come on, one last time! Here, show me how you do it, you can... no, I'll put my hands on yours, what do you say? So I can feel you doing it," Eames said, and it sounded like a normal suggestion - simple, easy, yes. Arthur wanted to believe it. But he was already having a hard time keeping his inner heat still at this close contact of their bodies, what would happen if they both...?

"Think I can play with concrete on my hands, huh?" Arthur nagged softly, rolling his eyes even as he placed his hands back on the piano keys. He hesitated for a moment, but with Eames' intense gaze on him, he nodded slightly. Eames turned his torso back toward the piano, and just a few breaths later, he could feel Eames' hands on his, as easily as the brawny man could. As if he had intentionally made his hands seem heavy before. Arthur consciously tried to push that thought away - as well as the nice feeling of warm, heavy hands on his. The pressure was pleasant, and it didn't weigh Arthur down as he began to move his hands softly on the piano's cool keys. It was a delightful contrast to the warmth that was on his hands.

It was Christmas. They were at Cobb's house, the children were in the garden building snowmen, and it was the first time in days that Arthur and Eames had been alone for a moment. Arthur had restrained himself for a full two days from ever casting unnerved glances at Eames, who was wearing the worst, most hideous Christmas sweaters he'd ever seen and always seemed to have some kind of food in his hand. Their rooms were next to each other, upstairs on the second floor.

"You play that really well. Why don't you play the piano, and we'll all sing to it later, huh?" Eames whispered, and he was so close to Arthur's ear that Arthur could feel his breath. It was warm and pleasant, and it caused a slight giddiness in him. Arthur smiled slightly, and finally closed his eyes. He could feel Eames' fingers getting heavier on his, but he kept playing.

"Your singing will make the needles fall off the tree, Mr. Eames."

"Humorless as ever, Arthur."

Arthur bit his lip, pressing his slender fingers harder on the keys before he felt Eames' fingers slip between his, deliberately, and intertwine with his. So warm and soft, very different from what Arthur had expected, and his fingers paused, returning Eames' pressure. He could still feel Eames' breath on his ear, so close. So damn close.

Arthur felt it before it happened, and he didn't pull away either when Eames turned his torso slightly toward him and gave him a soft, almost breathy kiss against his cheek. A fierce wave of heat pushed through Arthur's body, but he did not open his eyes. On the contrary, he clamped his fingers tighter with Eames', and turned his upper body in Eames' direction as well. He could feel a heartbeat, deep and firm - and so close to his own.

Their lips met, open-mouthed, gentle, and they kissed as tenderly as if it were the first kiss ever in their lives. Arthur could taste the cognac Eames had already drunk that afternoon - he could taste the fruitcake, and a stolen cigarette, he was sure. But it was still the most beautiful kiss he had ever had. His fingers twitched, but Eames did not stop. He kept kissing Arthur, nudging his mouth open lightly, pushing his warm, soft tongue into Arthur's mouth. And because Arthur was so dizzy from this, he resolutely and somewhat unsurely at the same time reached into Eames' neck, at least with one hand, and returned these kisses with even more passion.

He could feel Eames' body pressing tighter against his, Eames' free hand lost in his dark hair, pulling him closer, and Arthur released his lips, but only to gasp. He looked at Eames for a moment, his eyes hazy and blurry, before Eames leaned in and kissed him again. Arthur's heart raced like a rabbit's, fast and relentless, completely out of control.

And just as Eames' hand buried itself more firmly in his hair, about to pull him onto his lap, an amused clearing of the throat snapped them out of their trance so violently that they nearly fell off the piano stool. Grinning and leaning against a doorframe, Cobb stood there, a cup with a steaming liquid, perhaps warm cocoa, in his hand, watching the two of them in amusement. Arthur gasped heavily, while Eames stood up so hastily that his ugly sweater almost got tangled in the piano.

"How long have you been standing there?" he barked at Cobb, who only raised his eyebrows in a feigning manner and eyed the two. Arthur felt his face adjust to the color of the red curtain.

"Long enough. Playing the piano, good plan, Eames. As if you two hadn't been pining at each other like two greedy bears for the last two days," Cobb said, cashing in a hard punch to his shoulder from Eames.

"I was- that was, Arthur was just- oh, come on."

"You want a quieter room?"

"God, Cobb!" Arthur hissed, growing even redder at the peal of laughter that erupted from Cobb's throat, before Eames put him in a headlock regardless of the cup dropping.

As they sat at the table in the evening devouring another delicious meal, with so much laughter and joy around the table, Arthur couldn't help but smile deeply and warmly. He felt something under the table, and as soon as he caught Eames' winking glance from across, he returned the pressure of feet intertwining with his.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Eames.

#arthur x eames #arthur inception #eames inception #inception fiction #short fluff #dreamhusbands

[jackson--t]

What Ronnie Kray does with you.

Watches you.

Judges you like good wine.

Spanks you.

Shows you his big "gun".

Might share you with his brother, if you're naughty enough. 😈

#ronnie kray #legend #reggie kray #kray twins #love this guy

[jackson--t]

Hello again!😊💗 I've read your 'Half Of A Heart' story many, many times and the idea reminds me of The House On The Strand by Daphne Du Maurier book and I love your story so much💗 here is a moodboard i made for you :) hope you like it, dear💗

#submission

[jackson--t]

Just wanted to pop in and say hello. I hope you're doing well. I miss your posts and stories 🥰

Ohhh, my heart. 🥺❤ I'll be back soon and I feel so blessed having someone like you! You're golden, you're truly some sweet golden nugget. Thank you so much for this! I needed this.

I am waaayy better now, hope you are doing well too! ❤ I feel like I got some cookie. 🥰

#answered #lovely

[jackson--t]

Arthur (x Eames) Appreciate Post

"Will there ever be a time where we will not fight, Eames?"

"I hope not."

"The fuck, why?

"'Cause I would fuckin' miss it."

#arthur x eames #dreamhusbands #eames inception #arthur inception #inception #these two #eames x arthur

[jackson--t]

Teaser

Modern AU, Tommy x Alfie, Oneshot.

"You don't even know who you're dealing with," Alfie hissed darkly, never taking his eyes off those blue eyes. Those bright eyes had stared at him, deep sea blue, like the storm of the sea in dark night. Perhaps it looked brighter by day. When the sun bathed the blue in light, and might illuminate the young man's gaze as well.

Alfie pointed the gun against the man's temple, the fingers of his free hand pressed like a vise around the soft contour of his throat. He swallowed, Alfie felt it keenly, felt the pressure of his larynx against the roughness of his fingers. Squeezing, choking, teasing - images flashed through his mind. Hard pressure, blue eyes rolling back, a low moan. Alfie shook his head, pressed the gun harder against his temple. The young man held still, and except for swallowing, he showed no reaction. A tough dog, apparently.

"Not my son," he said then, and Alfie grunted.

"You insured your son for more than two million pounds. Of course I want your fuckin' son."

The young man laughed quietly. Alfie increased the pressure of his hand, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh hard enough that the young man chortled. Tommy was his name, Alfie knew.

"I've got far higher insurance."

"Is that so, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And why the fuck should I believe you, huh?"

Silence, another swallow, more perverse images in Alfie's mind of tight pressure on that damn throat, the twitching of the body underneath him, lack of air. Arousal from air staying away.

"Because there are people who pay a high price for me, you'll see."

Alfie snorted. "Alive?"

The larynx under his fingertips moved again.

"Yeah, alive."

#tommy x alfie #peaky blinders #tofie #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #modern au #moodboard #teaser

[jackson--t]

How are you Mish? I love your writing Darling, youre a favorite of mine!

Oh hell, oh my heart. 🥺❤ what a damn sweet message, I'm totally blown away! Thank you so so much, that is literally an absolute honor. You made me blush like some virgin. ☝😂

I'm fine by now, how are you dear? 🥰 I was a bit overwhelmed by daily life, goddamn. 😂 no rest for my soul.

Thank you so much for this. This is something that really makes me so happy, so goddamn happy. ❤

#answered #how sweet #my socially awkward ass is truly touched about this

[jackson--t]

#yeah it’s me #selfish fcker or so #tommy shelby #cute tommy #peaky blinders

[jackson--t]

His Boy

Ronnie Kray x Teddy Smith.

Warnings: Spanking and other sexual stuff. Explicit Smut.

Teddy tries to mend Ronnie's broken nose, and ends up right where he always does: on Ronnie's lap.

Words: 3.4 k

I feel like a weirdo posting this. 😅🙆‍♂️

♧........♧...........♧............♧

It wasn't the first time Teddy had seen all that blood, the bent nose, the drips on the carpet that Ronnie actually liked a lot. The fine dots and drops of blood had fallen into the beautiful pattern of the carpet, breaking up the steady, gentle repetition of finely curved illustrades. A drop had fallen on a certain finely curved curl that Teddy had stared at many times, whenever he had lain on Ronnie's lap, his ass in the air, enduring the beatings, his buttocks glowing red from the welts of the hand with the cool, hard rings on it. Or the cane from the fine vase in the hallway, a bamboo cane whose welts Teddy could usually feel under the fabric of his pants for days afterwards.

He exhaled softly as Ronnie's glowing gaze met him. His fingers curled up slightly in the kitchen towel he'd grabbed when he'd heard the door. An argument with his twin brother, Reggie. It hadn't been uncommon lately for them to fight because Reggie didn't get along with Frances - or because Ronnie did something that didn't suit him.

But when Teddy saw Ronnie's probably broken nose, he sighed softly. He liked Reggie, he really did. Reggie, of course, was the prettier one of the twins - amiable, always finely dressed, and didn't carry the traces of seething aggression and craziness under his skin like his brother Ronnie. Teddy had liked Reggie a lot at first, watching him furtively whenever Ronnie's eyes were glued to anything but his face. Sometimes, he had wanted to scratch up Frances' face, to rip her beautiful hair off her head, just like that - because he envied her. Because Reggie didn't beat her, and because she had Reggie's beautiful face all over her when he fucked her.

Still, he didn't like it when Reggie hurt Ronnie. The missing pills were to blame, his antipsychotics. Ronnie almost never took them, unless Teddy reminded him to. Well - Teddy was used to knowing Ronnie as he was, always had been. To him, it made no difference, per se, whether Ronnie took them or not. But the subtle aggressive structures of his mental disorder became more palpable, like a guest moving into Ronnie's head, whispering strange things to him. He was more aggressive, loving violence. Only today, his eyes were different. Teddy saw the anger, the astonishment, the shock - and something he could almost put under the term sadness.

If that feeling existed in Ronnie.

Teddy fumbled a little with the kitchen towel, folding it between his fine fingers before asking quietly, "What happened?"

"He hit me, Reggie. Look at what he did - 's it bad, Teddy?" Ronnie grunted, walking with heavy steps over to the mirror in the living room. His mom, Valerie, was thankfully asleep. She wouldn't have believed it had been Reggie. But Teddy knew the other brother's punch. He had already had to feel it himself, under the powerful urge of the incoming excitement of that gesture. It was always a highlight for him when Reggie touched him - even if it was to teach him a lesson. The last time for a lesson had been when he'd hit Leslie so hard, out of sheer jealousy over Ronnie's attention, that Leslie had almost lost an eye.

"Ah, fuck - ma nose, ma beautiful nose. What a ...- my fuckin' brother!" Ronnie cursed loudly, and Teddy carefully stood next to him, gently standing on tiptoe to get a closer look at Ronnie's face.

"It's broken, Ronnie. I can fix it if you want," Teddy murmured softly, the glowering gaze of Ronnie's eyes on him. The big man snorted softly, a few drops of blood spreading further across the beautiful carpet.

"You can do that? Nah, I don't-"

"Fixed my own nose once, I did. Gonna hurt though, ya hear?" Teddy said, taking the fingers of his right hand out of the cloth, resting them lightly and warmly against Ronnie's cheek. He felt the twitch under Ronnie's skin, it was so warm. It set off an excited tingle in Teddy's stomach area.

"Did ya? Hmph, you know what I'm going to do if you fuckin' mess it up?"

"I know, and I'm not going to screw it up."

"I could kill you pretty right here and now for that, huh? Think the nose's ugly, don't ya?" Ronnie grunted angrily, and there it was, the absence of psychotropic drugs. Words Ronnie said without understanding the meaning - blindly directed because he didn't realize, not quite, that his brother had done this to him, and not Teddy. Thick, strong fingers dug around Teddy's chin, jerked it up, and Teddy gulped.

"I could-"

"Who's going to fix your nose then, huh? Can punish me for it afterwards, but your nose will stay like that," Teddy breathed out tensely, knowing the effect his words were having on Ronnie. The man's eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded, his lower lip slightly open, his row of teeth bared below. He sniffled deeply, his nose clogged with blood, before dropping onto the couch.

"You're being careful, aren't you?" he grunted, and Teddy smiled.

"I always am."

"Don't tell anyone, you hear?"

"I never do, Ronnie."

"Hmm, good boy."

Teddy clicked his tongue, wiped his fingers on the kitchen towel, and went into the kitchen to get some bandages. He knew well by now where everything lay - Valerie had introduced him to the Krays' house, after all, well aware and grateful that Teddy was still by Ronnie's side. Sometimes he thought he read from her eyes that she really liked him - because he had never judged Ronnie, despite his bouts of cruelty. But Teddy knew nothing else. He had grown up just as much in the pain of a poor neighborhood, and Ronnie was his ticket to a better life.

You put up with these things if you could live for them like a prince. You just put up with them, and shut up when Ronnie wanted you to.

When Teddy had gathered his things, he put them down next to Ronnie on the couch, and sat down wide-legged on the broad lap. He had always loved Ronnie's thighs, those wide trunks, strong enough to break a body. There was ecstasy in every fiber of those muscles.

That's why Teddy suppressed the surge of pleasure that sloshed through his body as he pressed closer to Ronnie's face, slender fingers against his cheek. The nose looked really nasty, and it was really broken. It would be a slight jolt, but how Ronnie would react to the pain, well - Teddy didn't know.

"S' gonna hurt, Ronnie, okay? I'll make one quick move, it'll hurt, and then you'll be pretty again," Teddy whispered hoarsely, and Ronnie grunted.

"Am I not pretty now? I know you're always staring at Reggie-"

"I don't, and you are pretty, Ronnie, always. Reggie's too soft."

A narrow grin crossed Ronnie's bloodied face, like a twitch, short and beautiful. "He is."

"You ready?" Teddy asked, and Ronnie's nod wasn't even quite finished before he applied the pressure of his fingers to his nose and had them moving quickly to the side, pushing the nose back into place with a horrible cracking sound.

"FUCK!"

Of course he screamed, and of course Ronnie threw Teddy off his lap, the slight new stream of blood like shock on his face. Teddy licked his lips. Heat, so much heat in his body, in his loins.

Bad boy, he could hear it now, feel it like a tingling promise on his skin.

"What did ya fuckin' do?!"

"The nose is straight again, Ronnie, I made it whole again! You still need tape, let me tape it-"

Ronnie snorted. The drops of blood plopped onto the carpet, a few more, then it stopped, though Ronnie's voice still sounded impossibly nasal. He paced up and down, eyes on the floor, and then - heavy, heaving footsteps in the hallway, the sound of fine leaves, and Teddy's skin tingled with pleasure. The bamboo stick.

Ronnie sat down wordlessly on the couch, his broad legs like mighty tree trunks, and slapped his right thigh with the flat of his hand. "Com'ere." he commanded, without a kind word, without the litter Teddy usually knew when they were alone. Eyes gleaming menacingly behind the lenses of his glasses, Teddy pushed himself off the ground. There were a few drops of blood around the edges of Ronnie's glasses, but Teddy paid them no further attention as he lay belly-first on Ronnie's thigh, his lap full of tingling sensations.

Teddy liked violence. He liked brutality, didn't know why - but he had always been one of those boys who had never been too gentle - just right for Ronnie Kray, and one of the reasons Teddy was his best boy. Because he could endure, because he didn't break under what Ronnie needed, what turned Ronnie on, what excited Ronnie. Teddy was never broken. He wore the bruises on his body like trophies, wore them like something to be proud of - because it was the signature of Ronnie Kray. The secret king of London. And Teddy was his boy.

"Pants down." Ronnie grunted darkly, and Teddy obeyed. The air of the living room was cool around the skin of his bottom, a pleasant change from what was to come. Ronnie let out a soft, dark sound as Teddy lay back on his legs, lower body naked, and a rough, coarse hand gripped his left buttock firmly, slapping it lightly.

"You'll pay for this, you will."

Teddy breathed out. "Yeah."

The moments before the first blow were always the most erotic Teddy ever felt. Like a burning in the air, like a tingle in his lap, in his cock, like waiting for a fucking surprise. The air was electrified, magical, the warmth of Ronnie's thighs beneath him like the softest cloud.

The first stroke was hard, so hard it elicited a hoarse sound from Teddy. It was more of a squeak, high and soft, that he knew turned Ronnie sheer on - he loved it when he could do this. And Teddy loved the feel of the hard bamboo stick on his bare skin, the tingle it left. The red welts, the warmth on his butt cheeks as it formed. The red marks, sometimes a little chapped skin that he knew Ronnie loved to lick, to run his hands over curiously before fucking him. And this, Teddy thought to himself in sheer excitement at the next stroke - was guaranteed to end in a hard fuck.

He knew Ronnie could feel his erection against his thighs. With each breath, with each stroke more on his ass, Teddy's cock stiffened, pressing against the warm, rough fabric of Ronnie's thighs in the expensive pants, letting a soft friction build as soon as his body arched minimally under the blow of the bamboo cane.

"I like your shirt." Ronnie grunted, absurdly, it didn't fit - but it was Ronnie, and the cane, and Teddy moaned softly the next time the cane slapped hard against his skin, leaving pain and burn and pleasure in its wake. Ronnie's own poem burned into his skin.

"Ronnie-" Teddy's voice grew softer, higher, a pleading whimper. His hard cock pressed against Ronnie's thigh, was literally massaged, licked at drops. But the heat of the strokes didn't abate, only a little more hardness was added - by the movements and by Ronnie's lap, oh yeah, a firm erection pressed there into the fine fabric of his pants.

Teddy loved Ronnie's cock. It was as broad and big and fucking hot as anything on him - well built, and made to destroy him if he wanted to. Teddy had often had to take warm baths after sex with Ronnie to preserve his body - he could take a lot, always, but he needed his time afterward.

With a quiet moan, Teddy felt Ronnie's free hand settle on one buttock, gripping tightly, almost grabbing. Broad fingers fumbled at his crack, seeking, finding. They were already wet, Teddy hadn't realized, when they found what they were looking for, digging deep into Teddy's body, two of Ronnie's fucking wide fingers. The pulling and stretching was passion, coupled with another stroke and an undeniable exhale from Ronnie that almost bordered on a greedy moan.

Fuck, it didn't take much longer.

Teddy had to endure two more hard blows where, despite the rising numbness in the flesh, he could feel it tearing the skin slightly - it burned so nicely - then, with a gasping exhale, Ronnie pushed him belly-first onto the sofa, tossing the bamboo cane carelessly away. His heavy hands pressed Teddy's shoulder blades hard down on the sofa, pressing the boy firmly into the finely flowered fabric of Valerie's couch, and Teddy heard Ronnie undo his belt with rising excitement.

Once, just once, Teddy had been allowed to see him completely naked, otherwise Ronnie always left his clothes partially on. And it had been a groundbreaking time, because Ronnie, despite his oddness, was so damn well trained, had broader shoulders than his brother, a brutally toned chest. Teddy had been allowed to ride him that day, with hands as tight as vices around his hips. But Teddy had come, way too fast, drenching Ronnie's chest in a lean white of cum.

"Fuckin' bastard," Ronnie grunted, spitting roughly between Teddy's crack, pressing the hard and erect tip of his broad and thick cock between them, pushing himself between Teddy's butt cheeks without further foreplay, pushing his cock into the tight hole. The fingers on his butt glowed, rubbing over the sore skin, but the stretching and pain from the intrusion made Teddy forget all about it.

He moaned as loudly as he dared before a broad hand snaked in front of his mouth and squeezed hard - the absence of air made Teddy dizzy, aroused by the brutality. Ronnie's weight pressed him down hard, and it was nice to be squeezed so nicely between that body and his weight, and to have his own cock wedged so tightly on Mommy Kray's soft couch.

"Don't wake Mom, you lil' whore!" Ronnie growled hotly against his ear, and Teddy shook his head, breathing, gasping for air as his fingers released from his mouth and Ronnie truly fucked him hard into the couch.

It was ecstasy, every time. The pain was so pleasurable that it was quickly replaced by the probing sensation of an approaching orgasm, forming deep in Teddy's belly. The friction of his cock against the couch and with Ronnie's thick cock sliding so deep inside him, soon better, it was like a pure piece of pleasure written by the god of lust himself. Teddy could do nothing but cling to the fabric of the couch with clammy fingers, controlling his breathing, and taking and taking that cock as hard and as well as he could.

Ronnie was never a tender lover, but he was a good one, more animal than man in bed, with rough moans and grunts, hips snapping hard like a stud bull. Teddy nearly choked on his own saliva as Ronnie thrusted deeper, deeper, hitting the fine bundles of nerves inside him again and again. The tip of his cock rubbed firmly against it, Teddy knew that Ronnie knew. He timed the motions just right to hit that spot again and again, feeling the softness in Teddy's limbs, the trembling in his shoulder blades.

"You're gonna come for me, Teddy.", Ronnie groaned out, the hard cock with a firm jerk so damn deep, made Teddy's spine rebel slightly. Teddy opened his mouth, but no words came out. No moan, he just gasped, knowing he was close.

A thought that had driven him to climax many times before pressed into his brain with manic swiftness: this one thought, this forbidden one, that he would one day want to act out. Reggie and Ronnie, both above him, behind him, inside him. The pushing and shoving of two thick cocks inside him, his hole stretched to bursting. The twins sharing Teddy like a cheap hooker, the way they embraced his body, held him, fucked him and fucked him until Teddy came. Feeling not only Ronnie's fat cock, but Reggie's as well, both brothers joined inside him...-

His orgasm bored into Teddy's body so violently that he didn't have time to really dig his fingers into the sofa. His body stiffened for only a few seconds, then he reared back, and it spurted out of his cock, discharging into the muscles of his ass, contracting and milking Ronnie Kray, quivering, trembling, in full ecstasy. Teddy even blacked out for a moment because Ronnie just kept fucking him, calling him a bitch, grabbing his neck and squeezing him tighter into the fabric. But Teddy came and fucking came, it was so good, it was so-

"Fuck, fuckin'-", it was rare for Ronnie to moan - usually he came silently - but today he came loudly, as if he wanted Teddy's orgasm to last. Teddy could feel the hot spurts inside him, wanted to catch them with the tip of his tongue, choke on them, even as he loved the wetness building in his hole, more with each slide. Especially because Ronnie kept thrusting, really riding out the orgasm, fucking Teddy for several moments after he had cum.

It took Teddy a long time to get his breath back. Until he felt details, like the burning of his skin, like the heat on his back - Ronnie's nose must have been dripping, triggered slight aftershocks in Teddy's body. He couldn't move, even though Ronnie had long since braced himself and closed his pants again, giving Teddy a less soft shove in the ribs.

Teddy stayed down, just today, just briefly, as Ronnie brought the bamboo cane back into the hallway, stuck it in the beautiful vase as if it hadn't just been the tool of a satisfaction. He stroked his clothes, wrinkled his nose with a soft, pained sound, and then nudged Teddy lightly.

"We're going to bed, now, Teddy. Will you clean up?"

Teddy smiled. His body ached, throbbed, but he was fine. "Sure."

Teddy always cleaned up, tidied up when the evenings and nights ended like this. He fixed Ronnie's nose briefly, patted it so it wouldn't hang crooked in his face again in the morning. Then he put everything away, wiping what blood he could off the carpet still. But the dark stains remained. He would have to scrub along with Valerie tomorrow, while Ronnie would surely be sitting next to them, on the big armchair, eating a piece of warm carrot cake. The broad hand always slightly hollowed under his mouth, so that no crumbs would fall on his lap, neat, almost pedantic, as he sometimes was.

Before Teddy went upstairs, he took the brownish tin of pills with him, and with a quiet exhale, placed it on Ronnie's side of the bed. They always slept in the children's room when they were here - Valerie had never changed it because her sons had always been her everything.

"Will you take them, for me, Ronnie?" Teddy asked softly as he pulled his light blue shirt off his body, and with a pleasurable soft sound, lay down in bed next to Ronnie. He then gently placed the pillbox on Ronnie's chest, his eyes upturned to the scowling man. Ronnie's mouth twisted.

"Nah-"

"Please." Teddy pleaded, and indeed, Ronnie formed a large, cupped hand, dropped two pills into it, and swallowed them. Sometimes, when they'd been acting out, he was actually quite pleasant. Like they were in a real relationship, like it wasn't an honor that Teddy got to be here in bed - but something perfectly normal.

Normality.

Sometimes, but only sometimes, Teddy longed for it. For what Reggie and Frances had, for holding hands, for sex in the shower, for rides on Ronnie's lap because it felt so normal and good. Because for once, Teddy was in control.

But actually, it was also good the way it was. He at Ronnie's side - and with the two pills in him that always made him sleepy - Ronnie even pulled Teddy into a hug, letting him sleep with his head on his shoulder.

Almost comforting, like a boy who just wanted some soothing love after his fight and broken nose. Even if it was still Ron Kray.

But Teddy was his boy, and that was all that mattered.

He would endure.

#legend #ronnie kray #mad teddy #teddy smith #ronnie kray x teddy smith #ron kray #taron egerton #tom hardy

[jackson--t]

Thinking about some serious Arthur things in mind. Never mind, it's just... yeah.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Fuckin' hell.

#arthur inception #arthur x eames #dreamhusbands #eames inception #joseph gordon levitt #tom hardy #eames and arthur

[jackson--t]

Ronnie Kray eating cake.

Nothing more.

.

.

.

Got'cha.

#can he eat me like this please #ronnie kray #tom hardy #legend #he got me since child of fate #sin twins

[jackson--t]

*think of something asexual* *just... don't...*🥵

#tofie #alfie solomons #tom hardy #freaky friday #funnyshit

[jackson--t]

A bittersweet lullaby

Eames and Arthur are actually just colleagues and fairly good friends who have a drunken one night stand after a business party. They don't make a big fuss about it - until Arthur realizes he's pregnant.

Warnings: Mpreg, Explicit Sexual Content, Strong Language, Idiot Eames and a panicked Arthur.

Chapter 1 here:

#arthur x eames #inception fiction #eames inception #arthur inception #eames and arthur #dreamhusbands #mpreg fic #joseph gordon levitt #tom hardy #moodboard

[jackson--t]

Okay. Follow-up chapter where Tommy turns up for the 'date' with Dr Solomons, expecting to meet the man behind the white coat. But Alfie just stays 'in-character' and will only interact in quasi-medical role-play.

"If you could just remove your clothing and place your feet in the stirrups."

Tommy is totally thrown, but of course, ends up playing along.

Okay, here we go. ❤ I really tried my best at this - sometimes, I feel like a damn toddler writing smut. :D

Thank you so much for reading and asking, my dear! ❤

#answered #tommy x alfie #gay smut #doctor kink #tofie #ao3

[jackson--t]

So...them again. 🥵

#dreamhusbands #arthur x eames #eames x arthur #eames #arthur #inception #tom hardy #joseph gordon levitt #cant they be gay for real

[jackson--t]

The Letters in the Mirror

Arthur x Eames, Chapter 1/2.

Words: ~ 2.7 k. Warnings: bit of smut, hurt Arthur.

Ao3? Here.

"Not now-...N-Not yet, Eames..."

Arthur clamped his legs tighter around Eames' waist, squeezing his thighs tightly together, though he could feel exactly how Eames let out a deep moan, breathless, as if that movement alone was too much for him. But Arthur couldn't help himself. He needed this, needed it a moment longer, needed to keep this feeling. He needed Eames' thrusts, especially the deep, penetrating ones, to stay with his mind.

Eames braced his tense arms to the left and right of Arthur's body, breathing in and out deeply, stopping the movement of his hips only briefly. Arthur exhaled warmly against his face, trying to keep each movement with him, the hard pressure of Eames' stiff cock inside him. Eames was almost at the end, he knew it. He was as close to climax as Arthur was, but Arthur didn't want it to stop, not now. He needed this so much. They looked at each other for a moment, then Eames put on a slight grin, and his hips moved again, in and out, his cock so wet and moist from the lube and their precum, sliding inside Arthur's stretched hole. So sharp at the close. Arthur's eyes fluttered shut, clutching his legs even tighter, clawing his hands almost powerlessly into Eames' forearms. He could feel the soft trembling in them keenly - and also his own helpless exhalation against the sensation. Building up his orgasm, Eames' orgasm, that constant intensity.

"Don't, I need...this- I need it, Eames," Arthur groaned out, but Eames didn't hear. He grunted softly, pressing his pelvis harder between Arthur's legs, thrusting and thrusting, at that perfect, warm angle that had long made Arthur's legs tremble. The wet in and out, over and over, the gliding of Eames' cock inside him, never all the way out of Arthur, always just barely to the tip. It was driving him crazy.

"You need this now," Eames grumbled, the pressure tightening, the steady rhythm slowly fading. Eames must have been heading straight for his orgasm, because his movements were becoming more uncoordinated, had less precision. Arthur could feel it, somehow. The way the cock inside him was getting thicker, that soft, tingling pull in his belly, the feeling when Eames was about to come. Arthur loved it. But today, it came too soon. Even though he could feel the licking of his own cock, the drops of pleasure, that feeling of not being able to take it anymore. He would hardly be able to avoid coming if Eames didn't finally slow down.

"Eames, please. I need this today, I need you to....-ah,fuck!... Eames, please, I need...", Arthur moaned, but Eames didn't obey. The strong arms moved, one arm now bracing itself against the bed with his hand, the other arm loosening, seeking Arthur's neck, squeezing lightly, just above the soft spot above his throat. Arthur swallowed, and a tingling wave of pleasure shot straight to his belly. He could feel, accurately, his Adam's apple passing Eames' firm grip, and it was a wonderful feeling. That firm push past the muscle, the restricted air supply, it made Arthur pleasantly dizzy.

Eames thrusted harder, falling into a blind, hard rhythm, and his breathing changed. And though Arthur's legs continued to clench so tightly that Eames had to feel the pressure exactly, that he had to feel Arthur's pleading - it didn't stop him.

Arthur counted the thrusts in his head, the pleasant feeling of dizziness and pressure in his body, and threw his head back as far as the pillow beneath him would allow.

There were exactly ten thrusts, hard and unrelenting, until Eames let out a low murmur, and his hips sputtered, twice, and then stopped, his hard cock firmly and deeply penetrating Arthur, deeper than before, his bulging balls pressed tightly against Arthur's hole. And fuck, how hard Eames came. Arthur loved the feeling when he came inside him - so wet, so warm, so incredibly good.

It drove him completely over the top this time too, speechless and completely free of everything, the pleasant draft of air only sweetening the feeling. It had happened several times before that Arthur had come undone, just like that - and today was another one of those days.

Eames thrusted hard a few more times when he felt and saw Arthur coming; his hips gave him their all once more, and it truly drove a fierce blush into Arthur's face. Fuck, no one could do this as perfectly as Eames. And it wasn't just that perfect body, no. It was so much more. Eames always seemed to know exactly what to do to blow his mind, knew every spot on his body to turn him into liquid butter.

And that was despite the fact that this wasn't a reality.

They were silent as they lay side by side after their orgasms had come down, their gazes fixed towards the ceiling. Arthur blinked, still consciously trying to regain his breathing, to calm his lungs.

They had started meeting here a long time ago, in one of their dreams, to make love. It had started harmlessly, after a project, drunk, they had said, "Just once, and not for real." Had created this space, this place that only they knew. Where they could be what they wanted, who they wanted. Could do what they wanted. Four years it had been going on. Arthur licked his lips softly, then looked over at Eames.

"Eames?" he asked, and Eames raised his eyebrows. He didn't look at Arthur, though, but closed his eyes instead. Your voice, he had once said. I like your voice, Arthur.

"Hmm."

"Four years, right?"

"Right."

"Don't you think it's-... it's about time we do this outside of a dream? I want to feel the real Eames for once, and not just your ghost," Arthur said, quietly and honestly out as he was. He had always had a disarming honesty, which of course didn't do much good with Eames, the goddamn thief. Even though Arthur kept saying: people could change, they just needed time.

Four years.

Eames shrugged, then propped himself off the bed, sat on the edge of it and began putting on his socks. Arthur stared at the beginnings of his tattoos on his back, beautifully shaped and something that had always fascinated him. His own body bore not a single one, at least not in real life. Once, Eames had wished to see Arthur completely tattooed - and Arthur had granted him that wish in a dream. It had been hard and brutal, and Arthur had come twice that day.

Once with Eames' hot come on his face as he'd jerked himself off - and once when Eames had fucked him from behind like that, hands splayed open like an addict on the beautiful patterns on Arthur's back.

"You know this is...- sort of complicated, huh?" Eames said, and Arthur snarled.

"Complicated? It's no different than here."

"It's always complicated in real life, you know that very well."

"Eames, four years! By now we know each other so well, and I want to feel you for real just once, without this room, in my bed, in my room, in the kitchen because of me, I don't care...!"

"We'll talk about it, I have to go now."

"Ah, sure.", Arthur snorted, running his hand through his wet hair. Sweaty he was, still, even as Eames leaned over him and kissed him softly on the forehead, his face decorated with his trademark grin.

"I really have to get going. I'll write to you. I promise, okay? And then we can talk about it, too, about.... Whatever it is you want again. Okay?"

Arthur frowned. "Okay."

He watched Eames as he got dressed and stalked out of the room. Staying behind, he did as he always did. It took Arthur a while to get himself together to gather his own clothes and slowly get dressed. His whole body ached, and he only now realized how much he had clung to this. How much this had tugged at his body. How much he had wanted to hold Eames, just a few minutes longer.

"Fuck.", he groaned out, and walked into the bathroom. It was beautifully tiled, black tiles, and indirect warm light. A large shower, and two sinks for them both, two large round mirrors. On the walls hung photos of days that existed only here, that were only a reflection of memories in dreams. Like a relationship that didn't exist in reality, but that they both only dreamed of, too cowardly to take this into the real world.

His favorite picture was the one where he was lying in Eames' arms, and Eames had his chin pressed very close to Arthur's hair. Because he was smiling so beautifully there. Somehow sincere.

Arthur ran his fingers through his hair again, stared at his own image in that unreal mirror, and then rolled his eyes slightly when suddenly, out of nowhere, fine letters formed on the mirror.

It was like someone breathing on the mirror from the other side, or like hot steam after a shower - something blurry. A smart way of communication between the worlds they had started a few months ago, it had been Arthur's idea. Arthur watched patiently as the letters formed into a sentence. Letter by letter, in Eames' incredibly spidery and illegible handwriting, this awful mess.

Still, it made Arthur smile.

I'm going to miss you in Mombasa.

Arthur blinked, emitted a soft, amused, snort as his fingers clutched tightly at the ceramic in the basin.

And when he woke up again, in reality, alone - he was as tired as if he hadn't slept in ten years, even though he had just woken up from their shared dream. He blindly pulled the IV from the PASIV out of his arm, and pressed a small piece of swab to the crook of his arm to stop the blood.

It was almost funny - in reality, he was always lonely.

 

§---§---§

 

Perhaps it was his manner that Eames couldn't stand. Maybe because Arthur was a little pedantic in real life, a little too neat, because he always had to have his things strictly arranged and tidy. He himself never creased the pages of the books he read - even there he couldn't stand chaos. He liked order even at his meals, and always ate in order, neatly with cutlery.

Eames was quite different. Eames always mashed his food together, mixed everything in everything, and was an unfathomable slob when it wasn't about technology. He always had everything in chaos, and Arthur got a shock almost every time he opened Eames' suitcase. It always seemed as if Eames had just unceremoniously turned over his closet and stuffed it into the suitcase, whereas with Arthur, nothing went into the suitcase without first being ironed. And yes, he ironed his underwear too, he was that bad.

But Arthur liked magnetism. Wasn't it true that opposites attracted? The North Pole attracted the South Pole, the Earth's magnetic fields harmonized precisely because they were different?

"You're thinking. About what?" a familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Arthur winced. He blinked before lifting his gaze, staring into the familiar eyes of Eames, of the real Eames who had made himself comfortable across from him. His tie was crooked, and it irritated Arthur inwardly - because it was tied exactly an inch longer than on the other side, but he couldn't say that now. He decided instead to look at Eames' face, the real face. He didn't often see it, after all.

"About magnetism. Energy fields." he replied, and Eames let out an amused snort.

"Oh, that's exactly what I've been thinking about, too," he joked, but Arthur just raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"What's the matter, Eames? Is there something about the job?"

"No. I was going to... um, do you think we can just meet in our room, you know? I want to talk to you," Eames said, and Arthur wasn't sure whether he should just get up, leave, whether he should smack Eames - or whether he should listen to Eames. He just stared at him in irritation for a moment, then snorted.

"You're serious? We can talk here."

"Nah, I don't wanna talk here."

"Why not?"

"Just...- dunno." Shoulder shrugging, Eames turned his gaze away. Ah, so that's how it was. Arthur averted his gaze, then stared out the window to avoid looking at Eames' crooked tie again. What was he doing wrong? Was he somehow completely different in the dream than he was here, now? He didn't like to admit it, because there was nothing to admit - after all, they weren't a couple - but it hurt him. Somehow. Like Eames couldn't stand him in real life.

"We talk here or not at all," Arthur said tersely, and their eyes met again. Arthur had to swallow, Eames' look was so damn real. The colors were much nicer in reality, this gray-green, almost playful, and his skin was a shade browner than in the dreams they'd built. Almost as tan as in the one photo in their built up, not real bathroom where they had been at the ocean. It had been a beautiful day. But Arthur hated it, the fact that this wasn't a real memory. That the sand on his skin had been dreamed too, just like the whole day. Like a movie he had been watching. Yet he could still feel the warmth of Eames' skin sometimes as clearly as if it had been true.

Eames didn't say anything for a while. He looked away at some point, too, directed his gaze towards the exit, as if thinking of escape, Arthur knew him after all. "Well, some other time, then," Eames pressed out, and Arthur snorted angrily.

"Eames, why can't you...? Eames!" But Eames walked away, running away, as always in reality.

They had gotten along well in the beginning, before there had been this strange, intense crackling between them. From then on, it had slipped into dreams. Arthur would never forget it, the evening when he had first felt that sensation on his skin, when he had blushed for the first time because of a compliment from Eames. You look really pretty with glasses, Eames had said - Arthur always wore glasses for IT stuff so he could better see what cables he was connecting there, what systems he had to track and crack. They'd had a job, and the software had broken. They had fixed it together, over pizza and beer from a can. Squeezed together under a cramped table, and that's where they'd sparked. They had dated, after that.

But only in dreams. Only with the PASIV program. As if reality were too heavy to carry after all - at least that's how Eames seemed to see it.

And Arthur drank an espresso after this conversation now, he needed the bitter brew to drive away his bitter thoughts. And the fact that he had taken refuge in something that might not have been real at all.

When he opened the door of his impeccably clean apartment that evening, and enervatedly put the keys in the bowl in the hallway, he felt incredibly stupid, almost naive. And offended, damn offended. Perhaps he had spent the best years of his life dreaming.

As he brushed his teeth, his mirror blurred again; soft steam appeared, like the familiar breeze, and spidery letters appeared on the mirror. Arthur paused with his movements, and stared at the letters with a strange feeling in his stomach.

I'll be waiting for you. You know where to find me.

Arthur bent over the basin, spat out the rest of the toothpaste, and then ran his hands with a light groan through his hair. He thought for a long time before closing the door of his bathroom behind him, and then pulling the silver case out from under his bed in the bedroom after all, preparing the crook of his arm for the prick.

Before closing his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep, he thought of Hawking's theories about black holes - and the endless, black matter that could affect, twist, and make disappear the entire space and time, endlessly expanded in the universe.

Almost as with his dreams, which simply did not exist in reality, expanded, erased.

#eames x arthur #arthur x eames #arthur #eames #inception fiction #inception #tom hardy #joseph gordon levitt

[jackson--t]

Fractures

Part of the Cracks-Series - Prolog.

#tommy x alfie #modern au #drug addict problems #peaky blinders fanfic #ao3 stuff