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diaryofanidiot · 9 months

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The Experiments

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Chapter list: Prologue, <1>, 2, 3, 4, 5

Cw: Swearing; torture; blood; medical experiments; panic attacks; malnourishment

Summary: For over a year, Y/N was held in a soviet experimentation facility. Forced to fight and claw her way to live, she managed to stay alive. When the 141 rescues her, they get way more intel than bargained for.

Chapter One

"What the bloody fuck is this..." A gruff voice spoke. I slowly looked up with wide eyes and nearly shat myself at the sight.

A giant behemoth of a man in a skull mask stood still, his body language relaxed but on guard as he stared in my direction.

His boots clunked heavily on the floor as he approached me, his gun still held at the ready but not pointed in my direction. I couldn't see his face, but his frown was apparent in his voice.

"Mactavish, I've found something... or someone, rather." He said, tuning in on his radio. I never once took my eyes off of him, unsure of if he was even real or not. Perhaps I had already died and this was the grim reaper to take me away...

"I don't understand, L.T." A staticky voice came through his radio.

"A woman. In a cage."

"Last I checked this wasn't a sex dungeon." The voice on the radio had a Scottish accent, dripping with amusement.

"Not joking." The British skull faced man said gruffly. "Finish clearing out the building. Then get to the rendezvous. I'll meet you there."

"Copy."

As he finished giving his orders, he knelt down next to the cage. "Who are you?" He demanded.

I scrambled back in the cage until the bars pressed against my bare back. I tried to speak, but my voice only came out in cracks after long-term misuse.

"Ah. Gotcha." He seemed to understand, or maybe he simply thought I was a mute. I saw his eyes flicker up toward the label on the cage.

"Subject 237: "Banshee"." He read aloud. "Stay where you are. I'm opening this blasted thing." He warned. "Try anything and you're dead."

I nodded slowly, desperate to let him know that I understood English. My eyes never left him as he shot the lock on the cage, despite my flinching at the sound.

"Out you go." He demanded, his gun still at the ready. My knees protested in pain as I crawled toward the entrance of my cramped confinement. I had almost forgotten about the chain and collar around my neck.

I could see his eyes widen slightly as I crawled into whatever light the room had offered; they darted around my scarred naked form as he observed me.

"Fuck did they do to you..." He mumbled below his breath.

The chains length only went so far for me to get an inch of room past the cage door. He knelt down in front of me. My traumatized brain flashing danger signs with every movement.

"I won't hurt you." He said in a low tone, one hand coming up to reassure me. "Not unless you try to hurt me. Just need to take this off..."

His hand darted toward the chain around my neck, causing me to flinch at the rapid movement. I could hear him curse underneath his mask as he realized a key was needed.

"Wait. Here." He ordered, standing back to full height before he went to raid the dead corpses in search of the key. He found it on the assistant's body with impressive speed before walking back over and swiftly removing the steel collar that kept me in place.

I hissed in pain once more as the cold damp air hit the sores on my neck, my hand going up to rub them instinctively. His hand was on my wrist now, stopping me from rubbing.

"We should get a doctor on that. Or on you in general..." His gun was lowered now, seeing as I had made no room to attack him. "Do you have a name?"

Once his hand was off my wrist, I pointed a shakey finger toward the label on the cage. He shook his head at this. "No, that's what they called you. I mean a real name." He insisted.

I frowned and looked to the ground. I had one. Over the course of a year, somehow, it had fled my memory. Nobody called me it anymore anyway. I turned my gaze back toward him with an apologetic look.

He sighed. "No matter. It'll come back to you. Let's get you out of here."

He swiftly walked over toward the scientist and removed the lab coat from the corpse.

"Put this on." He demanded, handing it to me. I complied. The fabric swallowed my malnourished body as I looked down, as if just now realized how gaunt my once healthy body had become.

He seemed to be looking at me expectantly. My legs tried to hold me up, screaming in agony as I stood slowly with atrophied muscles. I stumbled, my knees slamming against the linoleum tile. I cringed in pain as they did.

"Fuck." I heard him say before I was lifted and thrown over his shoulder. "Let's get you out of here." I watched as he seemed to notice a file on the table... my file. He snatched it up quickly and stored it away before the same voice I had heard earlier came in on the radio.

"L.T., you copy?"

He spoke into his radio with a sense of urgency. "Aye."

"I'm at the Rendezvous point now. The building's cleared, so you should have a clear path as long as there's no stragglers."

"You have my appreciation." If it were possible to hear a smirk, you could swear he wore one under the mask.

"Get here safely, and you'll have mine, Sir."

The radio went silent once more as I was carried out to the hall like a rag doll. Hell, I probably weighed less than one at this point. My eyes were wide as I saw all the death that littered the building.

Unable to push down the sick sense of satisfaction that came from seeing my tormentors dead on the ground, I managed the smallest hint of a smile. The first one I've worn in what seemed like forever.

The man on the radio was right. A path was completely cleared, seeing as my rescuer never once had to stop for any threats.

Until we exited the building, at least...

Gunshots were pouring out as my eyes adjusted to the rising sun, unaccustomed to the light. I felt my body thrown behind something as my rescuer took cover beside me, firing multiple shots.

Once my eyes adjusted, I blinked them open to see we were behind a set of barrels. I managed a small peak at our assailants before I was forced back behind the cover with an angry "stay."

I frowned as he continued making his shots before requesting backup. I guessed the soviets really didn't want him escaping this one with how many men were sent.

Opening my mouth to try to speak, my voice cracked and strained severely. "Ears..." I mustered. I saw his eyes flicker to me for half a second before refocusing on his targets.

"Ears." I tried again, miming for him to cover them.

"Noise reduction headphones, kid." He said gruffly. It was then I noticed that his ears were already covered.

I glanced back once more, placing a hand on his arm to prepare him slightly as I gathered all the strength I could.

I screamed. The supernatural-esque sound reached nearly two hundred decibles, equivalent to a large bomb. I heard glass shattering and the sounds of people crying out in pain. My throat was raw by the time I let my screaming fade to an end.

The enemy gunfire ceased, and even the man beside me looked temporally disoriented. He grunted as he got his bearings back and shot those writhing on the ground in pain. They weren't wearing ear protection, I noted, finally looking up from my spot behind the steel barrels. They must've been deployed in a hurry.

Once the waves of gunfire ceased, I heard a shuffling motion and a click beside me. My rescuers gun was now to my head.

I looked at him with wide, fearful eyes as he stared me down.

"What the fuck are you?" He demanded. I flinched, but the scream had left my throat too damaged to speak. I could only croak out a few sounds, none of them enough for form even a single word.

"Don't. Move." He demanded, pulling out the file he had snatched earlier from its space between his vest and his chest.

I watched him with unblinking eyes as he opened it. "Are you even human anymore?" He asked seemingly to himself as he scanned the front page of the file.

Something he read caught his eye before his gaze landed on my frightened expression once more. "Show me your teeth."

Hesitantly, I opened my mouth. The barrel of his gun moving to pull my lip back further. I could've sworn I stopped breathing as he revealed the pair of sharp fangs that had been surgically fastened to my canines. His eyes then lowered to my throat. Underneath the sores was a jagged surgical scar where they had altered my vocal chords.

I couldn't read his expression due to his mask, and his eyes said nothing.

"You scream like that again and I'll kill you." He stated matter-of-factly. He didn't seem to care that I just gave him a major advantage against his enemies. I watched him cancel the request for backup before I was thrown over his shoulder once more.

The Rendezvous wasn't far; he experienced no more hiccups in getting me there. I blinked as I observed the abandoned factory, the floor creaking with each of his heavy steps.

I felt my weak body stumble as I was set down on the floor. I winced in pain before a new set of footsteps approached.

"Good to see ya, Sir." The voice that once cracked through radio waves was now just in front of me. I looked up to put a face to a voice. This man wasn't masked, I managed to get a good look at his face.

"Sergeant." The tense tone in my rescuer's voice was gone now as he greeted the other. I listened in as he updated his teammate on the situation.

"Experiments?" His Scottish accent was thick with confusion. His attention turned to me as he knelt down to my place on the ground. He seemed to be observing me, a slight crease between his eyebrows as he did.

Not a trace of fear entered his eyes even once as he looked at me. "Call me Soap, lass."

I blinked at his friendliness, a stark contrast to the other man's battle hardened tone.

"That over there, That's Ghost. He's the one who got you out of there." Soap's hand went to his hip as he unlatched something from his vest and held it out to me. "You'll probably be wanting this."

It took a minute for me to realize what was in his hands but once it clicked, I snatched the canteen quickly and fumbled it open. I heard him chuckle as I drank greedily, the room temperature water doing wonders for my dry throat.

"Slow your roll and don't drown yourself." He lightly lectured as I pulled away in a coughing fit once my greed bit me in the ass by sending water down the wrong pipe.

I watched him turn to Ghost, a quizzical look in his eyes. "She doesn't appear dangerous."

"Appearances can decieve." Was Ghost's response. "Show him your teeth."

I cringed at having to go through this again before I bared my fangs hesitantly. "She was heavily altered. I'm assuming they were creating human weapons."

"That all?" Soap scoffed, seemingly not intimidated. Ghost shook his head.

"They called her Banshee. Her vocal cords are altered as well. I watched her practically burst the eardrums of five enemy soldiers. Hell, nearly had my own eardrums bleeding."

Soap nodded and took the canteen back as I handed it to him. "She's so scrawny. How long have you been there?" He asked me.

Ghost placed a hand on his shoulder. "Her voice is fried. Gonna have to get back to the compound and have a more thorough look at her file. Where are the others?"

Soap stood to his full height. "Gaz and Price are clearing out another facility nearby. They should be here soon."

A new voice called out, turning the heads of all three of us.

"Soon? Try now."

The two strangers, we'll at least strangers to me, walked up. The older man looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite identify before speaking.

"Ghost.... fill us in."

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

Typos? In my fanfic? Liar. (Pls point them out to me as we don't do roughdrafts in this household. We die like Roach here 🫡)

A/N: thank you all for the love this got from just the Prologue alone <3 sorry if anything feels off. I'm a secondhand fan and never touched the games lol.

Taglist: @warenai @linoskitten11 @jamesrifftapes

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price

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lovelybucky1 · 9 months

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Dirty Money- Tommy Shelby x Reader

masterlist

warnings: very mild dub-con, guns, canon-typical violence, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, degradation, clothed sex, office sex, semi-public sex, name-calling, unprotected sex, mentions of prostitution, rough sex

The chatter from the party room (if this occasion could even be called a party) lessened as you made your way down the halls of the Shelby house. The Peaky Blinders were having a celebration- another shady business practice gone in their favor, earning them a large sum of money. You are just a pretty face to the Blinders. You get in close with the arrogant, sleazy men who the Shelbys often have dealings with, get information, and maybe pickpocket occasionally, but that is the extent of your duties.

Your position means you don’t get any of the money they earn from deals; all they provide you is free drinks at the Garrison. The Blinders are just a stepping stone along your path. You knew they had money, and if you could get an in with them, then you could have access to some of that money. And really, who would notice if a small fraction of that money was taken?

Your dress flows at your feet as you creep down the hallway towards the boss’ study. When you reach the door, you press your ear to hear any voices; when you deem it safe, you twist the handle and push it open.

Thanking God the hinges don’t squeak, you shut it behind you and take in your surroundings. The room is dark, the light filtering through the windows from the street is barely enough to see by. You approach the solid oak desk that likely took the whole family to move into the office. Atop the desk are a few letters, a pen, a set of lamps, and a figurine of a horse. The rest of the office is similar; sparse with decoration, but bits of Thomas’ personality shine through.

You don’t know much about your boss, despite interacting with him frequently. You’ve been his date on various occasions, all with ulterior motives, of course. Even when he is acting vulnerable, you know it’s a farce. Everyone knows Tommy Shelby is all about business, and he never takes a day off.

You walk around to the other side of the desk and pull at the top drawer. Inside, only stationary, so you close it and try the second drawer, which is locked. You take a pin from your hair and bend it before inserting it into the keyhole. It’s been a while since you’ve picked a lock, but you eventually get it open without too much difficulty. When you open the drawer, you find two stacks of money sitting next to a gun and a pack of smokes.

You pick up one of the stacks and flip through it. Two stacks, each one thousand pounds. You’d be set for life with this amount of money. You could get out of this shit, smog-filled city, buy yourself a nice house in the countryside, a car. You could have everything you’ve ever wanted and more, and it was all in your hands at this very moment.

You were jolted from your fantasy about your future life by the lamp near the door clicking on. You whip around, money still in hand, to face the door. Illuminated by the golden light stood your personal grim reaper, the very man you were stealing from.

Tommy has his hands on his hips, eyebrow raised, and his weight leaned onto one leg. His stance screams what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Your stomach drops when you meet his piercing blue eyes, and a wave of fear washes over you. Tommy stares at you until the weight of his gaze makes you tremble, and only then does he speak.

“I’ve had many people try to get close to me for their own gain,” Tommy pauses just to make you sweat. “But none of them have ever been stupid enough to steal from me in my own home.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you say as if there weren’t stacks of money in your hand.

Your voice cracks when you speak and you’d curse yourself for your lack of composure, but it’s hard to remain calm when you’ve just gotten on the bad side of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.

“No?” Tommy asks. “That’s a good thing then, because if you were stealin’ my money, then we’d have some problems.” Tommy stalks forward toward you, eyes never leaving yours as he crosses the room. He takes the money from your pliant fingers; you have enough sense of self-preservation to not put up a fight right now. He places the money back in the drawer and when you look down, you see his fingertips brush against the gun- a reminder. When you look back up, his face is inches from yours and he is looking down the bride of his nose at you like you’re nothing but a pathetic animal. “So why don’t you tell me what you’re doin’ in here, eh?”

You inhale shakily as you try to come up with a convincing lie. You figure that he will see through any of the bullshit you say, but it’s better than admitting your crime. “I lost my ring and I thought I might have left it in here.”

“You might have lost your ring… in my locked drawer?” He asks, tone suggesting he is simply humoring you.

“If you found it and thought it was valuable, I thought you would put it in a safe place,” you explain, trying your best to look innocent.

“I see,” Tommy says, putting his hand on the desk next to your hip and leaning on it. “Now, if you’re done lying, I’d like to hear the truth.”

You swallow thickly as you resign yourself to the fact that you were caught. “I was taking money from your desk.”

“I’m not fuckin’ blind, am I? What’s the money for?” Tommy asks, voice even and steady, though you know he must be simmering with anger.

“For me.”

“Two thousand pounds, all for you? You have no affiliations?” you shake your head. “You’re not working for anyone?”

“No, sir. I wanted all of this for myself,” you confess.

“Hm,” he considers your words. “I’m surprised you were able to put together this little plan, so I doubt you’d be able to pull off bein’ a double agent all this time.” The way he talks down to you makes you want to hide your face in shame, but in the position he has you in, you have nowhere to go. “What were you going to do with all this money?”

“Move out of the city. Find a place for myself. Start a new life. A good life,” you say. Your tone must have been sincere enough for Tommy to believe you because he seems to relax a little.

Tommy shifts on his feet and he looks distantly over your shoulder as if he is lost in thought. You stare at his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You wouldn’t be surprised if he killed you, he’s killed others for much less.

“So,” he starts, “You’re not working for anyone else, but you’re still a thief and a traitor.” His intense gaze is back on you and your skin crawls with anxiety. “I don’t think I have to remind you what we do to thieves and traitors.”

You shake your head, knowing full well the fate that all who have wronged the Blinders have met. They’re not deserving of a quick death; they beg until they are too swollen to beg, they pray until God has been beaten out of them, they break until there is nothing left whole, they bleed until they’re dry. A traitor to the family suffers. They’re a spectacle to keep all others in line.

“But that would be such a waste of a pretty face,” Tommy says, the unexpected compliment makes your heart stutter in your chest. “You always did do good work for me. The races, the parties I went to with you on my arm. Sometimes I wished they were for leisure rather than business.”

You furrow your brow slightly at the admission. “What do you mean, Mr. Shelby?”

“I quite fancied you,” he says with a slight smile. “But then I caught you in my study with my money, and I came to my senses.”

He stands up straight and reaches into the drawer, taking out the gun. You take a step back, frightened once again. He doesn’t point the gun at you, only holds it, but you are still no less threatened.

With a sigh, he speaks again. “I don’t trust you not to bring down the rest of us if I turn you in to the coppers. So because I held such a soft spot for you, I’ll let you pick. I could cut your hand off to make sure you won’t steal again, I can send you far away without a single penny to your name, or I could give you over to the Italians as a peace offering.”

Your stomach drops when he lists off your options. For some reason, you thought he was going to let you get away. But seemingly despite his soft spot, business comes first, as usual.

“Please, Mr. Shelby, there has to be something else,” you say, voice watery with held-back emotion.

“What kind of businessman would I be if I let my employees steal from me?” He asks eyebrow raised mockingly.

Feeling desperation cloud your mind, you take a step forward, despite the gun. You reach out and place your hand on his shoulder, the rough material of his suit jacket rubbing against your skin. He looks down at you, his face a mixture of shock and amusement.

“I will do anything, sir,” you say, voice vulnerable and weak, hoping that will appeal to his baser urges. You know it’s a bold and risky move, but you don’t have many other options.

A laugh escapes Tommy’s throat, a rare and usually pleasant sound when it’s not being directed at you. “Are you looking to add prostitution to your list of crimes?” he chuckles.

“No, sir. I am not a whore.”

“You’re offering yourself up to me like one,” he smirks. “Why don’t we make a deal, then?”

“What are the terms?” you ask, trying to add strength to your voice that you’ve lacked since you saw him in the doorway.

“You let me fuck you like the whore you claim not to be, and you get to keep your job with us,” he says casually like he’s talking about the weather.

“That’s it?”

“Well now, don’t sound so ungrateful. If you’d prefer, I could give you away to those animals out here,” he gestures towards the door. “I’m giving you a chance to keep that pretty smile of yours.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I am grateful, sir. Thank you.”

Tommy puts the gun down on the top of his desk and closes the space between you. His hard chest presses against yours as he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek.

“Greedy little thing,” he says, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. Your lips are parted just so, looking soft and pliant, just the way he loves. Tommy’s hand trails from your face down to your throat, where he plays with the simple goal pendant that rests against your skin.

Tommy leans in and brushes his lips to yours, making your heart stutter and your breath catch in your throat. You can feel a slight smile on his lips before he presses them together in a claiming kiss. He smothers you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you part, his lips are pink and glistening with a mix of your saliva. His light eyes are blown with lust and you feel small in his arms.

“Are you clean or am I going to have to fuck your mouth?” he asks, the dirty words a sharp contrast to his gentle hands on you.

“I’m clean,” you say, voice no more than a whisper.

The only response you get from him is a shark-like grin. He grabs your hips and pulls you flush to him. Even through the layers of your dress, you can feel the hardness in his pants.

It’s almost hard to believe that right now, Thomas Shelby is hard for you. You’ve imagined this countless times; when you were his arm candy, when he’d drink with you at the pub, and even sometimes in your own home. You never thought you’d actually get to have him in such a way, especially not when it wasn’t for business.

“What are you waiting for, dear?” he asks, looking into your eyes and then down at his trousers.

You lean back, putting enough space between the two of you to undo his belt and unbutton his pants. You take out his cock and give it a few dry strokes. The size makes you nervous; you’re no virgin, but you’ve been so caught up with work that you haven’t been seeing anyone.

Tommy shrugs off his jacket and tosses it haphazardly onto his desk chair, clearly unconcerned that he is wrinkling a very expensive suit. Taking his undressing as a hint, you ask “Should I take off my dress?”

“It’s not our fucking wedding night,” he huffs. He grabs your waist and pushes you towards the desk, You brace your hands on the surface and look back at him while he hikes up the skirt of your dress. He piles the bunched-up fabric on your lower back and bends down to admire the view. “Though these knickers suggest otherwise,” he chuckles, slipping his finger under them.

It’s humiliating to be bent over your boss’ desk while he looks at you like you’re a piece of meat, As much as you wish you were more upstanding, that this whole situation repulsed you, the burn in your abdomen is undeniable. You’re getting off on whoring yourself out to your boss.

Tommy grabs the waist of your knickers and pulls them down, letting the white satin pool at your feet. Now bare to him, Tommy inhales deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal. He swipes his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your thigh.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whimper.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like me teasing?” he chuckles.

He rubs his hand over your pussy, his cold fingertips burning from the heat of you. You wiggle your hips a bit, silently begging him for more, and in return, he gives a sharp slap to your cunt.

“You forget this is a punishment. I could leave you here desperately and wet for hours and there’s nothin’ you can do ‘bout it.”

You let your head hang between your shoulders with a sigh. You don’t doubt his threat; Tommy can be a cruel man and you wouldn’t put it past him to torture you in such a way. No matter what, though, this is better than the alternative.

You feel a long, thin finger prodding at your entrance and you force yourself to relax. Tommy slowly pushes his middle finger into you, and from behind you, a quiet groan can be heard. He pulls his finger out only to quickly replace it, along with a second digit. The fingers inside of you slowly work back and forth to loosen you. Despite Tommy’s rough exterior and degrading words, when it comes to the act, he’s more caring than you anticipated.

The slow drag of his fingers makes you dizzy, desperate for more to fill you as you open up. Seemingly have read your mind, Tommy pulls out his fingers and places his wet hand on your ass.

For a long moment, nothing happens. Tommy stands behind you, both hands on you, but unmoving. You look back to see him watching you expectantly.

“Do you think I’m just going to give it to you?” he asks. You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “Clearly you’ve never been properly fucked,” he huffs. “Beg me for it.”

Of course, how could you be so stupid? A man like Tommy Shelby loves power and control. He wants to own everything and everyone, especially his conquests. You’ve already submitted yourself to him, but he wants you to relinquish the rest of your pride for him.

“Please, sir, I want it,” you try, the idea of begging for sex unfamiliar to you.

“Surely you could do better than that, eh? I’ve heard the things you’ve told our associates. I know your mouth is dirtier than your pretty white knickers let on.” The smirk is evident in his voice and it makes you burn with shame. The things you tell whatever man you were ordered to seduce were all acting. You separated yourself from it, from them, but now you were doing to be deep in it.

“Please fuck me like the whore I am, Mr. Shelby. I’m yours to do whatever you want with. I want you to forgive me.”

The words feel foreign on your tongue and Tommy seems to recognize that. The grin on his face tells you the begging was more for your embarrassment than his enjoyment.

“That’s better, my little whore,” he says as he grabs ahold of his cock and rubs it through your folds. He pushes in slowly but steadily, easing you into it but not hiding his desire until the head is inside. Like a gentleman, he lets you accommodate the stretch before seating himself fully inside of you.

You lay atop the desk limp and pliant, like you’re a toy for Tommy. He grabs your hips tightly, possessively, before he starts to rock his hips against you. The friction of your ass against his hips doesn’t do too much to satisfy your sexual need, but the feeling of his skin makes you burn from within.

“When you first joined,” Tommy speaks up, “I had to make a rule. Don’t fuck the other members. Never had that problem before, but I knew the boys would tear you apart the second they got the chance.”

Tommy’s fingers press into your skin as he begins to slowly thrust into you. As he did with his fingers, he makes the drag of his cock slow, ensuring you feel every inch of his length. Your pussy gripped him like your body knew you were made for him.

You let out a small, involuntary hum when he reaches the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You had fantasized that Tommy would be a good lover, but you never imagined that he’d light all of your nerves on fire.

“Fuck, Tommy,” you moan as his steady pace builds up the pressure in your abdomen.

“It’s Tommy now, eh? Where’d those manners go?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby.”

You’re certain Tommy is going to kill you, despite your deal after you disrespected him. Maybe he’d be merciful since you let him have you… or maybe that would make torturing you even better.

“Say it again,” he says, voice gruff with lust.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

“Tommy,” you whisper, hesitant.

His blunt nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped indents behind. The speed of his hips increases slightly, but he doesn’t slam into you like some previous partners have. He seems to understand your body; to be rough in some ways but caring in others.

“If I punished every thief like this, I’d have far fewer enemies,” he muses as he slides his right hand up your back, then rests it on the base of your neck. “But you’re lucky.”

The hand on the back of your neck moves to the side of your head, where Tommy presses down. There’s not much force behind it, but your head is pinned to the desk. It’s degrading to have him hold you down, preventing you from seeing what’s to come. His fingers twist in your hair and his trusts become increasingly irregular.

“Tommy,” you whine.

“This cunt’s divine,” he says, and for the first time, his voice has an edge of desperation to it.

“Tommy,” you say again.

“What?” he breathes.

“Fuck me.”

With an airy chuckle, Tommy pulls you closer to him by the hips so you can meet each of his thrusts. Your body jolts each time his thighs slap against yours, completely at his mercy while he fucks into you. You feel him shift behind you and suddenly there is a weight resting on your back. Tommy is leaning over you, holding you impossibly close with his mouth next to your ear.

“You’re my fuckin’ whore,” he says, his hot breath and gravelly voice making your skin break out in goosebumps. “You understand me?”

All you can do is nod, but that answer seems to satisfy him because he is standing back up and fucking you sloppily, a stark contrast to his steady pace from earlier. After a handful of strokes, he pulls out and you’re left cold and gaping on the desk, brain lagging to catch up with reality.

You hear a strangled moan from behind you, and then you feel drops of scorching liquid hit your thighs. You squirm on the desk once you realize what has happened. Tommy Shelby has just come on you, effectively claiming you as his own.

He rests his hand on your back as he catches his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He steps back, out from between your legs, and wipes the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve. You look back at him with lustful, half-lidded eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You push yourself up so you can stand, and when you turn to face Tommy again, he looks confused.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“We’re done, aren’t we?”

Tommy chuckles and steps forward again, picking your skirt back up and pushing the bunched fabric into your hands to hold.

“You poor thing,” he says. “You haven’t gotten yours.”

His words surprise you. You wouldn’t say Tommy is a selfish man; self-interested is a better term. You expected this to be over once he was finished, but it seems that equal satisfaction is of importance to him.

He reaches between your legs and slips two fingers into your cunt, then rests his thumb on your clit. You gasp when he touches your bud, which is extra sensitive from the lack of attention. Tommy’s other arm wraps around your waist to hold you close, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Tommy,” you whimper when he curls his fingers inside you.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Guess all it took was a cock to keep you in line. God knows I would’ve done this ages ago if I knew. Think about all the times I could’ve had this sweet cunt when I settled for some whore,” he says, voice thick and sweet. “But now you’re mine.”

His possessiveness, combined with the perfectly placed touches under your dress, makes your head spin with pleasure. You let your head drop forward to rest on his shoulder and he pushes his face into your hair. You reach up to grab at his vest, needing something to ground yourself, lest you collapse into a puddle of pleasure on the office floor.

“I-I’m close, sir,” you struggle to get out between moans.

“What do good girls say?” he asks.

“Please.”

“Cum for me, dear,” he whispers.

As if he pulled a trigger, your release washed over you. Your muscles tighten and relax as the waves of pleasure rock you. Tommy rides you through it, not giving up his assault on your soaked pussy until you are squirming and pushing his hand away.

You lean back to rest on the desk as you find your breath and let your skirt drop down to the floor, covering up the mix of cum that wets your thighs. You watch as Tommy straightens out his clothes and fastens his belt, feeling slightly disappointed that you didn’t get to see more of him.

He joins you by the desk, reaching into the formerly-locked drawer and taking out the pack of smokes, as well as a matchbook from his pocket. He lights the cigarette and tosses the burnt match into his ashtray. He holds it with the two fingers that were inside of you and takes a drag, exhaling a plume of white smoke that swirls in the air in front of you. Tommy offers the cigarette to you but you decline with a shake of your head, and he doesn’t press.

“Do you smell that?” Tommy asks, breaking the silence. You sniff the air, mainly smelling smoke but there is the underlying musk of sex, as well as the intoxicating scent that Tommy wears. “That’s business,” he says, answering his own question.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning to face him.

“We had a deal. I fuck you and you get to stay here, all your limbs intact.” You nod slowly, not quite understanding what he’s getting at. “I’d like to offer you a promotion.”

You perk up at that. Not an hour ago you were certain Tommy was going to shoot you where you stood, but now he’s offering you a higher-ranking position within the Blinders.

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he says, a slight smirk on his lips. “No dirty work, no men. It’s an easy job, making my breakfast and bringin’ me whiskey, sorting my mail, writing my letters. Making appointments for me, keeping track of my calendar, making small talk with incredibly dull people I can’t be bothered with.”

“So I’d be your maid?”

“If maids get the added benefit of fuckin’ their bosses, then yes, you’ll be my maid,” he grins. “And you know what the best part is?” You shake your head. “You don’t get to lay a finger on my money.”

You look away from him, embarrassed. Tommy grabs ahold of your chin and makes you look back at him, his blue eyes boring into you once again.

“You can live in my house, I’ll buy you fancy things or whatever the fuck you wanted to do with two thousand pounds, and the only thing you’ll have to worry about is cleanin’ the blood from my shirts.”

You pretend to think over his offer, but really, there’s no question. This is better than any life you could attempt to start on your own, and you have the added bonus of being in the boss’ favor.

“I accept your offer,” you say with a smile.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before you find another thing to steal,” he says, placing his hand on your lower back and leading you towards the door.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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c ant stop thinking about jealous!joel miller and the way he’d react to seeing others flirt with you. just a little after your arrival to jackson, the three of you tired and just starting to socialize. you get talking with a friend of maria’s who introduced you. and joel is there watching, pretending to be interested in whatever the bored housewife hanging off his arm was even talking to him about. he burns with jealousy he doesn’t know what to do with and ends up crossing the bar to get to you where he makes some kind of show of getting his hands on you and subtly proving his protectiveness and jealousy over other men talking to you. OR he waits until you’re home to shove you up against a wall OR drags you into the bar back room to be all “what the fuck were you doing with him? and why was he touching you and laughing?” and it’s just all so hot. give it some real angst for me, please?

hehehehehe

Jealousy, Jealousy

Joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

having just settled in Jackson, she and Joel are having a hard time learning to share what's theirs.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, pretty rough sex ngl, semi-public too, joel's a teasy lil shit, a dash of angst, a hint of fluff, yeehaw

..............................

She can feel his eyes on her, and it’s starting to make her nervous that he’s going to make a scene. She, on the other hand, is doing exactly what they’re supposed to be doing, being social, mingling with the Jackson community, proving that she isn’t a wild stray that hisses when provoked. Joel on the other hand…

He’s sulking like a damn teenager at the bar in the Tipsy Bison, and she’s been with him long enough to know that his daggered stare is pointed directly at the young man she’s talking to. Maria had introduced her to the guy, Graham, that morning when he joined their patrol shift. He was friendly and easily started cracking jokes with her, crinkly blue eyes and a sandy mop of hair topping off his downright sunshiny disposition. The polar opposite of her man who currently looks like he could moonlight as the grim reaper with the way he’s staring at them.

Joel is already on probation of sorts, after he knocked another guy’s lights out because he was getting a bit too insistent with her down at the stables. Having been on the road for so long, neither of them are used to settling things with means other than guns and fists. Ellie has jokingly begun calling them “big bitch and bigger bitch” for the way they just can’t seem to shake their standoffish nature. For the record, Joel is the bigger bitch. But she’s trying, really hard, and is going to be pissed if Joel thwarts her attempts at making a new friend.

Luckily, Graham is easy to talk to, even when her eyes keep darting over to the other end of the bar where Joel is sitting. She has to do a double take, however, when she sees that someone has joined him. She smiles politely, laughing along to Graham’s story while she racks her brain for the name of the woman who’s suddenly got a claw– hand– on Joel’s bicep where his arm is propped on the counter. Veronica? No, Vanessa. She rolls the name around in her mind, letting venom strike through each syllable.

“Hey, are you good?” She’s startled out of her imaginings of what Vanessa would look like with a bloody nose by Graham waving his hand in front of her face. She takes one more glance at Joel, whose attention has completely shifted from her to his little hanger-on. She has to practically wrench her eyes away from the sight and back to Graham, letting out a forced laugh.

“Sorry, I just– zoned out for a second. What were you saying?” The nagging voice of Maria in her head telling her to “be social” is the only thing keeping her attention on Graham. As she glances back across the bar, her stomach twists when she sees that both Joel and Vanessa are now gone from their seats, but her anxiety is short lived when a broad palm comes to rest around the curve of her hip, warmth spreading across her back that can only be coming from her radiator of a man.

“Graham.” She has to hold back a laugh at the way Joel says his name like it’s a curse, but the bite is lost on Graham who just offers him an easy smile.

“Hey, Joel, it’s good to see you, man. I was just telling her about how–”

“Actually, son. I’m gonna steal this one from you. Our kid needs us.” That makes her head whip around to look at him, but his eyes stay trained on Graham, the only acknowledgement she gets is his fingers flexing where they’re splayed on her waist. Graham’s face falls.

“Oh, um, of course. I hope everything’s alright.”

“It will be.” With those gruff few words, Joel herds her off her stool, slinging his arm over her shoulders as he guides her through the crowd and out of the bar, night already sweeping down the main drag of Jackson. He’s pushing her along at a clipped pace, but she’s having none of it, stopping dead in her tracks to look at him fully.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Ellie? What– is she ok?” He huffs, trying to get her to keep walking, but she holds her ground, not budging when he tries to shuffle her along.

“Ellie’s fine, alright? I– fuck, I made that up.”

“What? Joel, what the hell are you–” Before she can get the rest of her incredulous question out, he’s grabbing her wrist and tugging her down an alley between two storefronts, pushing her up against the brick wall as she struggles to figure out what the hell just happened. But that’s a little hard to do with the way her mind goes blank when Joel smashes his lips against hers, tongue pressing into her mouth when she gasps at the harsh squeeze of his hands groping her ass. When he pulls away with a little smack, a lewd string of spit snaps between their mouths.

“It was either this, or punching Graham’s teeth in.” Before she can respond to his breathless statement, he’s licking back into her mouth, slotting his hips with hers and grinding hard so she can feel the heat of his erection rutting into the front of her jeans. The only thing that gets him to finally let up is her harshly tugging at his hair, making him groan low as he pulls away.

“Are you telling me that all this is because you got a little jealous of Graham?” The hard set of his jaw tells her all she needs to know, and she lets out a laugh.

“Joel, I’m telling you, it wasn’t like that.” He huffs at that, his fingers flexing into the plush of her ass.

“That don’t mean a thing. Saw the way he was looking at you, darlin. Didn’t like it one bit.”

“Well that’s rich coming from you when you had that sweet little thing hanging off your arm at the bar.” She regrets it the minute it leaves her mouth, even more so when a very smug look washes over Joel’s face.

“Hmm, I’m not the only one who’s jealous, huh?” She tries to jerk away when he traces her cheek with his fingers, letting out a huff as he just crowds her further against the wall. He chuckles, the asshole.

“Don’t be like that, darlin. Ain’t nothing for you to be jealous about. Not looking at anyone else but you, you know that.”

“And you know that I’m not looking at anyone else either. I was trying to make a friend, you know, like how Maria told us to?” She jabs her finger into his chest, punctuating her words with a few prods. Joel doesn’t seem convinced.

“Can’t you make friends with someone who isn’t trying to fuck you?” That makes her scoff.

“How many times do I have to tell you? He wasn’t trying to fuck me. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve done a thorough job of letting everyone know that I’m your woman.” Joel seems to consider her words, doing something unexpectedly sweet when he trails his palm down her arm, drawing her hand up to press a kiss over her knuckles.

“That’s right, darlin. You’re mine– my woman. Same as I’m your man. But I think you could use a little reminder of that, huh?” Before she can respond to that with something snappy, he’s shutting her up with another crushing kiss, both his hands returning to her ass as he pulls her hips to slot with his. He smears his lips down her neck, nosing away the collar of her shirt before sucking harshly at the newly exposed skin, making her throw her head back against the brick wall with a sharp gasp.

“Joel– fuck– what if someone sees?” The low thrumming laugh he lets out shoots straight down her spine, pooling syrupy heat through her core.

“No one’s gonna see, not if you’re good and quiet for me. Can you do that, honey? Be so good for me, huh?” It infuriates her, really. How quickly he can melt her down, her usual bite going soft and sweet with each kiss, each squeeze of his hands, until she’s all but whimpering for him to give her more. He continues mouthing at her chest until she tugs him up by her fingers raking through his hair.

“No more fucking teasing– I–I’ll be good– just, please–” he cuts her off with a hard roll of his hips into hers, a pressure that makes her dizzy even through layers of clothes. She has to hold back a whine when he completely steps away from her, leaving her slumped against the wall as his eyes take a salacious path down her body and back up to her face.

“Turn around for me, darlin. Show me what’s mine.” Under any other circumstances, she would have rolled her eyes at that entirely pigheaded statement, but she’s got just enough warmth running through her veins from his touch and the liquor she had sipped on to comply without hesitation, turning around and splaying her palms out on the wall as she arches her back, hips shimmying slightly out.

He presses right up against her, heat grinding into her ass while his hands knead and squeeze the sides of her thighs. She yelps when his palm comes down hard on the curve of her ass and he shushes her, leaning further against her while his lips trace the shell of her ear.

“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me. Gotta be quiet right?” She sighs, mind a little too hazy to answer as his fingers curl around her waist to fumble with the buttons of her jeans, harshly yanking them down along with her panties until the fabric bunches just under the swell of her ass. She’s entirely unprepared when he lays another slap to now bare skin, the burn rolling and spreading through her, doing nothing to help the dampness she can feel smearing in between her thighs.

“C’mon, honey. Need you to tell me if you’re gonna be good for me. Else I can’t give you what you want.” Now he’s just being cruel, and she’s had about enough of it, huffing and craning her neck over her shoulder to glare at him.

“I already told you, you precocious asshole. Just fuck me al–” she can’t finish her sentence, not when he’s sliding into her heat in one languid stroke, his hips fitting snug against her ass. Joel groans low, his forehead pressed between her shoulder blades as he stills inside her.

“Precocious asshole – those are some big words, darlin. Don’t want anything in that pretty head of yours except my name by the time I’m done with you, you understand?” She tries to press her hips back, seeking anything more that he’ll give her, but his firm hold on her hips keeps her stilled, aching around his pulsing length.

“Only gonna ask one more time. Do you understand?” He punctuates his question with a deep grind of his hips, the tip of his cock nudging a spot inside her that makes her eyes scrunch tight from the prickling pleasure.

“Fuck– yes! I understand, I understand, just– please, Joel. Need it so bad.” That seems to appease him, and she sighs when he pulls his hips back, finding a slow roll back into her that makes her preen in his grip.

“That’s my good girl, huh? All mine. I’ll give you what you need, honey.” Any slowness, any gentleness, dissolves with the brutal pace he sets, fucking her up against the wall, rough palms bouncing her hips back against his as they both pant heavily into the clear night air. His one hand comes up to rest over hers where its splayed across the wall, and she imagines fleetingly that his knuckles are gonna be scraped from the way he curls his fingers between hers, twining their hands together and grazing against the rough brick with each punishing thrust.

“So perfect like this– fucking made for me, darlin– right? Just for me.” His words are a hot fog in her mind, and it takes everything in her to form a coherent reply.

“Yes, yes– s’for you– all for you– all yours, Joel– please–” A broken cry catches in her throat when his other hand snakes around her hip, pressing firm against her pelvis as his fingers drag sloppy shapes across her clit.

“That’s right, honey. My girl, my woman– no one else’s. You gonna come? Huh? Gonna come for your man?” His words are choppy, disjointed by low grunts and his hips never stutter in the relentless rhythm he keeps. It all becomes too much, her release catching her off guard as her hips jerk in his hold, the only thing she can manage is a crackled whimper of his name as he fucks her through it.

“So good for me, darlin– that’s it– shit–” She slumps against the wall when he pulls out, the ringing in her ears dissipating just enough to hear the wet glide of his hand as he finishes himself off with a few harsh strokes, warmth smudging over her low back, dripping down her ass as he sighs out her name.

They stay like that for a moment, Joel pressing his forehead into her shoulder, she barely holding herself up against the wall as they both catch their heaving breath. Finally collecting herself, she huffs at his cooling spend now smeared over her skin.

“Joel, how the fuck am I supposed to walk around with your come drying on my ass?” He grumbles at her protests, already hoisting her panties and jeans back up her hips, giving her ass a little pat once they’re back in place.

“Don’t worry, darlin. I’ll clean you up real good soon as we get home.” She finally turns around, immediately resting her back against the wall when her knees start to wobble. Joel grins at her, all wicked and smug, as he tucks himself back into his jeans. She huffs.

“You are impossible, Miller.” He hums at that, bringing his hand up to cup her jaw and press a shockingly sweet kiss to her lips.

“So are you, darlin. S’why we work so good together, huh?” She has to smile at that, leaning up to steal another kiss from him, but the moment is over all too soon when someone interrupts them.

“Goddamn it. I leave you two alone for a few minutes and I find you out here necking like a pair of feral cats. This is a family community, have some decency, alright?” Tommy stands at the mouth of the alley, hands on his hips, and an entirely exasperated expression on his face. Joel steps more in front of her while she tries to subtly zip up her jeans that are still hanging unbuttoned around her hips.

“Got it, brother. Sorry– we were just headed home.” Tommy just shakes his head.

“You’re just lucky it wasn’t Maria who saw you two. Jesus– just– go home. Never wanna see y’all making out again. Fucking scarred for life now.” She’s just relieved that was all Tommy saw.

They sheepishly step out of the alley, Joel tucking her under his arm as she offers Tommy an apologetic smile. Tommy shakes his head one more time before heading off toward the bar. When he’s far enough away, Joel lets out a rumbling laugh. She, however, is less than amused.

“I swear to god, Joel Miller. You are gonna get us kicked out of this damn place one of these days!” She smacks his chest, but he grabs her wrist, holding her palm there as he pulls her into him.

“Me? What about you, huh? Takes two, darlin.” She fights it, she really does, but she can’t help the smile creeping across her face with the way he quirks an eyebrow at her, both of them dissolving into breathy laughter. He sighs, squeezing her hip with his one hand.

“C’mon, trouble. We better get home before the bible brigade comes hunting for us.” She snorts at that, head tipping back in a laugh as they start walking away toward their home. He slings his arm over her shoulders, both of them stumbling along with how close they insist on staying to each other

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Just for you, darlin.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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