#just garbled yelling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mediumgayitalian · 1 month

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“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

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theemporium · 10 months

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james potter x (sirius' younger sister) reader where he knows about it but they love making his life miserable by always being on top of each other or doing cute couple things and making out whenever he enters the room (bonus point if they use the map to make sure he's coming in)

thank you for requesting!🖤

If there was one thing you learnt befriending the marauders, it was to love a good prank.

From small, stupid pranks that would make you giggle to long haul ones that made you laugh until your stomach had stitches, you loved a prank. You loved being a part of them. You loved planning them. You loved having a group of friends who were able to be so carefree and unbothered around each other, healthy enough to prank each other regularly and prank others together.

However, what you never accounted for was that these silly little pranks would lead you to fall in love with someone. And for that someone to be your brother’s best friend.

Despite what Sirius thought, your relationship with James Potter was not an ongoing prank. It was real, realer than any relationship you had ever had before. You loved him and he downright adored you like you were the best thing on this Earth, and that was just something Sirius would have to get used to.

Not that you and James didn’t have your fun with your brother’s overdramatic, theatrical reactions.

It had been subtle things to wind him up at first.

Like sitting beside each other during meals with James’ arm around your shoulder and sometimes feeding each other little bites until Sirius would eventually try and wiggle his way to sit between the two of you.

Like wearing James’ jersey for quidditch games rather than his and watching as the boy claimed it a betrayal of the highest order that his sister had switched sides.

Like casually sitting on James’ lap when the group are hanging around the common room, even when there are seats free, because you two like to cuddle up on the armchair with a blanket thrown over your laps whilst Sirius yells for no funny business.

Sometimes, you’re prepared for it and you like to toy with your brother. After showing you the marauders map, it wasn’t rare for you and James to just set up wee scenarios when you knew your brother would walk in.

But sometimes, it was just purely by accident that Sirius would walk in but that didn’t mean you didn’t take advantage of it.

“It’s too fucking hot,” you groaned as you threw your body down onto your boyfriend’s bed, only to groan when the feeling of the sheets against your sweaty skin was anything but satisfying.

“You say this every time we get a heatwave after complaining how we have no good weather up here,” James mused as he rummaged through his chest for a shirt.

“You’re meant to be on my side, Potter,” you grumbled, lifting your head to glare at him.

“My mistake,” he said, abandoning his search as he began to crawl over towards you until his hands were pressed against either side of your head and his face was hovering above yours. “You are always right, my love, always.”

Your lips twitched. “Better?”

“Not enough?” James let out a heavy sigh before a grin spread across his face. “Well, that just won’t do.”

Before you could complain any further, James was dipping his head down to press his lips against yours. You smiled against his mouth, your arms wounding around his neck to pull him a little closer as his tongue teased yours.

“You’re too warm,” you murmured between kisses, your eyes falling shut as he began to trail soft pecks along your jaw. “Why are you a bloody heater?”

“You love it during winter,” he mused before lifting his head, his eyes sparkling with an idea you knew would make your thighs clench. “Why don’t we sneak off to the lake? The water will be cold and—”

“MY FUCKING EYES!”

Both of you whipped your heads around to find Sirius standing in the doorway, blanching and gagging as he recoiled and covered his eyes. He let out a dramatic cry, something quite like a garbled sound of discontent.

“Fucking hell, Pads, got some lungs on you there,” James joked, clearly unbothered by the fact he had just walked in on you two. He could have seen much worse.

“What is wrong with you both?!” Sirius yelled, finally opening his eyes to look at you two between narrowed eyes. “Lock the fucking door!”

There was a pause.

“Actually no, you shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place!” He huffed out before pointing at you. “You shouldn’t even be here, full stop.”

You rolled your eyes at your older brother. “Blah, blah, blah.”

“Calm your tits, Pads,” James muttered before he pulled himself off the bed, taking your hand and helping you up too. “We were leaving anyways.”

Sirius frowned a little. “Good—”

“Your sister has a lil’ one piece she wants to show me—”

“PRONGS!”

“It’s her favourite swimming costume,” James said with an innocent smile. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“You’re evil,” Sirius said with his lips turned downwards. “Both of you. I’m telling Euphemia about this.”

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loganbcrnes · 1 year

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Midnight activities

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!reader

Words: 766

Tags: Dom!Sherlock Holmes, doggy-style, hard sex, dom/sub Ethnicity and body type isn’t mentioned. I want everyone to feel inclusive. Authors note: heyy whilst catching up on the requests, i figured i'd write this in celebration for Enola Holmes 2. I loved the movie, not as much as the first one, but seeing Sherlock again has made me feeling certain..emotions, so here's this drabble. Enjoy :)

Sherlock has you on your hands and knees, his deliciously thick body on you, weighing you down. You feel his body heat and the coarse chest hair that you love so much, on your back. Pinned down and with your legs spread apart he tells you, with your dripping pussy on display. “I’m going to fuck you, like this- hard and fast and you’re going to take it.” He brings down a hand to your ass and gives it a sharp slap, making you moan, your ass to his thick erection. As he groans into your ear. “God, you smell amazing, Little one.” He squeezes your ass. “You want it, Sir, it’s yours” you say breathlessly.

Without any other warning he slides his hand underneath your nightie that’s pulled up. He glides up and down a few times, taking in the curve of your back. He groans as his hand descend to your folds. Strumming his fingers down your center, gathering your arousal on his fingers. Circling your clit, round and round making you a delirious mess. “Stop teasing please, Sherlock… ahhh” you try saying as he smacks your apex. Making you moan loudly once more. He knew how you liked it rough. The red marks of his spanks marking you. Exciting a new wave of arousal. “Fuck, Darling, I can see how wet you are” You turn your head to the side to look at him. “then do something, you said you’d fuck me. But here we are” you say in a defiant tone. You watch him yank his sleeping pants down. You shivered, and elongated your arms up, pressing your face into the mattress. Getting ready for the fucking of the night. He rubs the head of his dick down and up your center. Groaning he slaps his dick against your clit. Making you try rolling your hips. He knows just how turned on you get when he rubs his cock over your pussy. He suddenly wraps your hair into his hand and wrist making your face lift up and making your back arch. “I wanna hear, Princess.” His low deep voice sends shivers down your spine. he slams his girth into you. Gasping from the full force of his thrust, he pulls at your hair exposing your neck. His mouth sucking a mark into your skin. Knowing damn well you have work at the bakery the next morning, he keeps sucking at your skin. He continues to pump his thick girth into you. a hand glides over your ass, squeezing the flesh. His left hand wanders up to your breast. Smacking sounds fill the room as his heavy balls slap against your clit. Coming from Sherlock a groan mixed with a moan as you squeeze his member inside of you. You feel his right hand on your clit, rubbing circles, “That’s it, Little one.” he says softly to you. “Taking your husband’s cock so well”. Your moans amplify with the hard thrusting, letting out “ahs” with each thrust. “Let me fuck you open” He keeps the pace fast and brutal making you feel full and crazy. You are almost at the brink of your orgasm, groaning he slams harder into you. “Fuck Princess, This… fuuuuck you feel like a dream” he groans loudly. He grabs at your hips with both hands with a tight grip. You know you’ll have the bruises the next morning. And you buckle and meet his pace. Both of you fucking back into each other.

“Sherlock, Sir!,” you say his name like a prayer, like a plea. You feel the orgasm forming once more. Feeling Sherlock inside your tight heat, pulsing knowing that he’s waiting for you to cum. Sherlock hand comes back down to stroke your clit, pulling a bit but rubbing in small circles. With that small administration of his hand you come undone. You yell a garble of his name. He pulls out of you, flipping you over and shoots his cum on the column of your throat. You stare up him in shock. He marked you, in a way he hadn’t in a while. His dragon eyes look down at you. A smirk playing at his lips, “why do you look so surprised Darling? You know you belong to me” he says as he spreads his cum all over your neck and with a delicate finger he brushes some on your lips. You automatically open your lips to suck at his finger. Maintaining eye contact you moan with his finger inside your mouth. His eyes darken, “Careful darling, you got work in the morning”

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x fem!reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes x y/n #henry cavill x y/n #sherlock holmes x fem!reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Protective

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get injured

Mapi was on her feet the moment you went down.

She was sitting on the bench, having been subbed off earlier in the match. Ingrid was still on the pitch, playing in the defensive line while you were in your usual spot further up near the opposing goal.

"Mapi." Patri grasped her arm, the only thing stopping her from running on and giving the opposing defender a piece of her mind.

She watched as Ingrid sprinted the length of the pitch, without even stopping to think. You were lying on the ground, covering your face.

The defender was being yelled at by the ref as Alexia and Claudia stood nearby. The medics waited on the side, ready to come on the moment they were needed.

You were guided to a sitting position by Lucy and Ona just as Ingrid arrived. She crouched down in front of you, blocking Mapi's view for a moment before taking your face in her hands.

Mapi watched impatiently for a second as you turned to the side and spat out blood. It wasn't a lot but it was clearly enough to worry Ingrid, who hurriedly waved on the medics.

They grabbed at your face too, making you open and close it several times before shaking their heads at your coach.

You wouldn't be allowed to continue.

You were clapped off the pitch and didn't quite see Ingrid shoulder check the woman that took you down.

"Oh, bebita," Mapi said as you guided to the bench, an ice pack on your swollen jaw," Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," You said, though your speech was a little garbled," This is so unnecessary."

"You spat up blood," Mapi reminded you," That's pretty serious."

"That no good-" You let out a long string of curses in Swedish that would have Frido up in arms if she were there. "She's made of cement."

Mapi managed a little laugh at the outrage on your face but only a little. She reached out to move the icepack to the side.

Your jaw was a swelling mass of purple and blue and you winced when she touched it.

"Is it just this?"

You nodded. "They said it should be fine in a week or two."

"I was worried you broke it, bebita."

You grinned at her, all lopsided like a little puppy. "I haven't broken a bone in years," You said proudly.

"Well, let's keep it that way." Mapi patted your head and opened up her coat for you to snuggle into. "How do they even fix a broken jaw? Like, where do they put the cast?"

"They wire you to the teeth of the other jaw," You reported," I'd have to be on a liquid diet."

Both you and Mapi shivered in disgust.

"Well, let's just keep that jaw of yours bruised rather than broken."

You rolled your eyes, slumping further into Mapi's grip as you watched the game in front of you. Your jaw felt somewhat numb from the icepack and you pulled it away.

"Hey!" Mapi grabbed at your hand, moving it straight back to your jaw. "Keep that on there!"

"I'm fine," You said.

"Keep it there!" She insisted.

"My hand's cold," You complained.

Mapi snatched the ice pack from your hand, pressing it into your bruising jaw as she pulled out her gloves.

You knew that you wouldn't be able to get out of this one so just accepted your fate being held hostage by Mapi until the match was over.

But it wasn't just until the match was over.

Mapi fussed over you as you headed back onto the pitch to shake everyone's hands. You weren't that much shorter than her but it certainly felt like it as she led you around with a hand on your shoulder while the other kept the icepack firm against your face.

Patri and Pina both teased you from afar and you stuck your tongue out at them, your face turning red when you realised that this was absolutely going on social media tonight.

You didn't have time to dwell on it though because Ingrid appeared in front of you.

Her hands fluttered over your face. "Are you okay? How are you? How is she?"

"A few weeks out," Mapi replied," It's just bruised though, no breaking."

"That's good." Ingrid tucked you into her side. "You're coming home with us tonight, right?" She glanced at Mapi. "You've told her that she's coming back with us tonight, right?"

Mapi shrugged. "I didn't think that I had to. She comes home with us every time she's injured."

You puffed out your cheeks in annoyance. "I'm not injured, not really."

They both set you a look that had you chuckling awkwardly.

"We're getting takeout, right? Because I'm injured?"

Ingrid grinned at you, tucking you further under her arm and taking custody of the ice pack. "If you stop complaining, then yes."

You grinned back at her, more than happy to shut up and shake everybody's hand - even if Patri and Pina wandered closer to poke fun at you.

"Er...l/n, hey," The defender who took you down said.

You had been left alone briefly, Ingrid called away by Jonatan and Mapi talking with one of her friends. "Oh...hey..."

"Look, I'm really sorry about your face."

"It's fi-"

"You should be."

Ingrid and Mapi appeared on either side of you. Mapi passed you a fresh icepack and Ingrid tucked you into her side again.

"You could have seriously hurt her," Ingrid continued," Like broken her jaw, kind of hurt."

This was perhaps, more embarrassing than Patri and Pina teasing you. You already knew that cameras were going to be focused on this interaction.

"It's fine," You cut in quickly," Let's just drop it, alright? I'll be fine. We're good."

The defender, clearly catching on that they needed to vacate quickly, shook your hand. "We're good," She repeated," Cool."

"You let her off too easy," Mapi said as her eyes tracked the retreating player," She could have really hurt you."

"But she didn't and she already got carded. No harm, no foul."

"Except there was harm and there was a foul," Ingrid said. She steered you towards the tunnel, turning your back on the opposing player and thus ending the conversation.

Mapi lingered for a moment, glaring daggers before she turned around too.

"So," She said as Ingrid pressed the icepack a bit firmer into your bruising jaw," What are we thinking for dinner? I vote sushi!"

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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agoofyannoyancetolaw · 4 months

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forced

a/n: yes this is forced proximity trope. Yes it’s overused. And yes I do in fact love it with my heart and soul. Also this is very rushed cuz I don’t have time for all that build up 😒 and I’m not proof-reading this.

minors DNI

graves and you HATED each other. He always snapped at you, and you never planned on listening. Any time you two managed to even be in the same barrack as each other, hell broke loose, yelling and curses directed at one another being common even on mission since you were the only two commanders on base.

you never listened. It grinds his gears and made him wish he could just look into your head and see why you were so stubborn. But the closest to that he could get was being stuck with you in the training room. Alone. And locked because of some soldiers who decided to pull a prank.

of course he was utterly livid, the feeling of rage filling his mind as he sat in utter silence. Glaring at you from across the room.. yet a deep warm burn coiling around him at the thought of being along, in a room with you, with nobody else around. He could feel himself wanting to fidget or get out of here so bad, the only issue is he couldn’t find out why he was so pissed to begin with.

lost in thoughts; his mind wandered to things that could have pushed him into disliking you, your voice- your stubbornness to keep your men safe- your body under the communal showers? Now he was just being silly! His face flushed bright red when you snapped his back to reality by slipping right beside him silently

“well I think this was your fucking faul-“ he muttered before he was cut off by the feeling of your lips deeply against his, letting out a whimper at the shockingly warm feeling of you pressing him against the wall of the training room. Clearly you were just as pent up as him.

“what was that, graves? Are you gonna complain about being in a room alone with me?” You teased as you tugged down his boxers till his half hard cock sprang out. already leaking pre-cum which you tapped a finger on, making him writhe before he was quickly shut up by the feeling of one of your digits sliding into him without a single warning.

you could barely even prep him before he was begging, grinding against your fingers in search of more as his walls fluttered around your digits and soft pleas and cut off ‘ah’ sounds falling from his lips. His body basically begging for you to just slide into him, begging for anything you could give him as he felt your fingers slide out with a whine, replaced with garbled moans as he felt your girth fill him up- enough that he could swear it was in his throat.

He could barely manage to stroke himself to the thrusts you had set, uneven and without a single rhythm for him to catch up on. Managing to abuse his prostate till he was hazy with stimulation and his cock twitching in his grasp. He could feel his eyes roll up every time you bucked into him, shivers of pleasures rolling over him and accompanied by choked sobs and moans tumbling from his bruised lips. He could barely even think by the time he felt your load paint his walls white. The cold feeling of it dripping out of him just making him whine.

“looks like I win this argument, hm? Isn’t that right?” He could hear you chuckle, cleaning him up with a towel from the training room equipment. Your breath hot against his back.

“y-yeah commander.” He grumbled as he pulled up his boxers. To find the door unlocked- which meant even worse for him, that the shadows had walked in and peaked.

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pedge-page · 5 months

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#3 of Joel dealing with his Preggo reader : hungry

Warnings: oral m receiving, lactation kink, breast feeding, pregnancy, Joel fluff doing the absolute most for his wifey

18+ ONLY

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Joel is leaning back in his armchair on this lazy Thursday evening after having worked 12 hours today on a rigorous construction project. He sighs heavily, glaring down at his absolute favorite sight in the world right now: his heavily pregnant wife between his legs leisurely sucking his cock like a popsicle.

With a pillow below your knees, you looked like a dream. Your eyes closed as you gently hum around his mushroomed tip, suckling his precum. There was no rush to your movements, no desperate urge to make him cum: you were simply just enjoying the heavenly weight of your husband's blessed member sliding in and out of your waiting mouth.

He doesn't immediately register when you pull off his cock with a pop.

"I want taiyaki."

Joel shakes himself from his dazed relaxation. "Taco what?"

"My cousin who took me to the international fair 3 years ago? She got that and let me try it and it was really good. I want that." You sit back on your knees, waiting for Joel to get moving. He doesnt. "Right now," you add.

He's learned very quickly that once you have a craving for something, everything else must pause until you get it. Joel begrudgingly tucks his hard and unsatisfied cock back in his sweat pants, grabs his keys and reverses out the driveway, repeating it in his head: tai-yak-i, taiy-aki tayo aki, taco yaki, taco yucky—tacos aren't yucky they're delicious why couldnt she ask foR YUMMY TACOS I COULD HAVE MADE THAT AT HOME.

It takes him an hour of frantic searching of Japanese shops, and finally finding one, having begged the poor lady at the counter to make them—whatever they are, —hot and fresh for his pregnant wife at this late hour despite the shop closing in a few minutes. Luckily she seemed to vaguely understand his garbled mish mosh of the word and went to work.

He tips her generously and is out the door, plastic "have a nice day" bag secured in the passenger seat of the truck as he speeds home.

He triumphantly drops the bag next to your sleeping body on the couch. Your nose wrinkles, eyes shooting open at the sudden new smell. No hello, no thank you, just grubby hands diving in to the bag and opening the styrophome container.

You pause, staring at the contents. "What is this?"

"Its the thing: taco-yauki."

You look at him in incredulously, and he shoots the same look back, mixed with confusion.

"These are fried octopus balls, Joel?"

"Why the fuck would you want that?"

"I didn't! I wanted cream filled waffles! Taiyaki! Not Takoyaki!

"I DONT KNOW JAPANESE, WOMAN."

"STOP YELLING AT ME!"

"I'M NOT YE—" he inhales deeply before exhaling, letting his shoulders sag. "I'm not yelling, baby. I'm sorry. I promise I didn't know."

You shake your head, eyes swelling with tears of hangriness. "Honestly, Joel, if I knew you were going to be this useless when I married you," your voice cracks. You push the now cold balls away and cross your arms, pouting.

Joel covers his eyes with his hands. What a fucking night.

He knows that you dont mean it. That you're tired, crankly, in pain, and hungry. And that your dumbass husband was in such a rush that he didn't take a second to write it down, let alone ask you exactly what he was looking for. He remembered the fish pastry now, something he could have bought at the grocery store 10 minutes down the road. His back hurts, dick hurts, eyes hurt. He doesn't want you to be hurt too.

"Joel," you peep meakly.

"Yes baby?"

"I'm um. I'm sorry for what I said. You're not completely useless." You twist your fingers apologetically, which he finds absolutely adorable. It's impossible to even remember what he was so annoyed by. You clear your throat and speak sweetly: "I don't want taiyaki anymore. Can we have tacos instead?"

He smiles. "White-people tacos or street tacos?"

"The ones you make, please."

Joel's warm hand craddles your cheek softly. "Coming right up, angel." His hand filters down your throat before settling over your chest, fingers ever so gently tracing the lace line of your nightgown, pulling it down slightly to expose more of your supple cleavage. "But first, I get my cream filled pastry."

"Wha—?"

He gets on his knees, yanking your shirt down as your swollen tits—courtesy of your soon-to-be child— bounce out. You hiss at the sensitivity of being so heavy and full of milk.

Joel wastes no time wrapping his lips around your pebbled nipple and sucking gently, the creamy liquid so built up in your system that it just flows naturally into his eager mouth.

"You were hungry too, huh?" You teased.

He hums around your engorged breast, eyes closed in bliss. He softly kneads your unoccupied tit with one hand, the other joining your palm in passionately caressing your large tummy. You both feel your baby kicking happily now that mommy and daddy have made up.

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lis-likes-fics · 10 months

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A Deal’s a Deal (Pt. 2)

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 10.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, spoilers, swearing, smoking, death, angst, phone sex, masturbation, age gap (Tommy is late 30s, Reader is late 20s), oral (f!receiving), heavy praise, breeding kink, Tommy is nice... A/N: So I decided to write a second part to show a completely different side of Tommy bc of course. This is not filthy as it is angsty. This contains spoilers for seasons 4 and 5 if you have not already watched them. I hope you enjoy this part, I put a lot of time into it! Thank you!

You wrapped Tommy’s jacket around you, draping it over your shoulders and admiring the weight of his scent wrapped around you. He’d just left you in the bedroom, left only in a bedgown as you waited for him to return to you after dealing with business that had shown up on the front lawn. But you were curious.

As you ventured toward the window, where the blaring lights from the car out front were shining through, even from the height of the first floor, you looked over the chaos of muffled shouts and cries. You tilted your head as you continued to quietly observe, trying to figure out who it was causing such a disturbance here so late in the night.

When you realised that you recognised the person yelling at Tommy, you were out of the door in seconds, panicked as you rushed through the hall and down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, you caught Charlie trying to peek out of the door in search of the situation which had caught his attention.

You knelt in front of him, offering a kind smile as you focused his attention on you. “Hey, Charlie,” you said in a sticky sweet voice. “Why don’t you come sit down while I go see what your father is up to, eh?”

He looked at you, only half interested. “Screaming,” he spoke in his tiny voice, referring to the men arguing outside.

“I know. Isn’t it just so annoying?” You stood and took his hand, leading him away until you could hand him off to a freshly woken Mary to take elsewhere. With Charlie out of the way, patting his head as he departed, you went back to the front door. You didn’t leave yet, choosing to stay there with the gun hidden underneath the table by the door and watch the men argue.

Aberama looked a mess, covered in blood and sweat. He was hysterical, and you could not understand a single word he was saying. Johnny Dogs was by the car, just as hurt as your father seemed to be, though less frantic as he clutched his side in pain. All you could hear were threats, loud, desperate threats spouting from Aberama’s mouth in Johnny’s direction garbled by anger and something deeper.

“Listen to me!” Tommy shouted, trying to catch his attention as he cradled his head and attempted to hold him still to get him to calm down. He forced him to look at him as he spoke.

“How can a one-armed man avenge the death of his son, eh?”

Your heart dropped in your chest and then leapt to your throat. The ground shook and the air stood still. You swallowed hard, wide eyed and not entirely sure you were still breathing. The word came out of your mouth but it was muffled in your ears as you took a step out of the door with breath caught in your lungs.

“Dad?”

Everything stopped as they all turned their gazes on you, a variety of emotions crossing their faces before settling on sudden realisation. You stared your father in the eye, ignoring the sting of tears as you took it all in—the suffocation, the shock. When did the world become so blurry?

Aberama looked away from you, his grief deepening as he turned his gaze back on Tommy with a new kind of rage. “They crucified my son…” he huffed, “for you.”

You felt paralysed as you stood there, helpless to find a way to fix all of this. You were supposed to fix it. You were the older sister, the family’s caretaker. You had to fix it, but you didn’t know how.

You were ripped from your spiral at the struggling grunts your father made breaking away from Tommy and grabbing the firearm discarded on the ground. He stumbled away to stand between you and Tommy, pointing the gun right at him. “You stay away from my fucking daughter!” he shrieked.

The blasting sounds of bullets shot into the air and stopped everything. You hadn’t even realised you were the gun shooting until words were leaving your mouth and you felt the tingling of blood leaving your hand from being held in the air for so long.

“Put down the gun, Dad,” you said, calmly at first as you stared him down with eyes that had not yet caught up to your body.

He looked at you and mumbled your name, nearly defeated as he watched you. The next words to leave your mouth were not so calm as they scratch at your throat with the force you used to scream them and aimed your gun at Aberema with an anger to be reckoned with.

“I told you to put down the fucking gun or I’ll shoot it out of your hands!”

He hesitated, taking you in before obliging. Slowly, he set the gun down and put his hands up to show peace. You didn’t lower your own weapon, though your hands shook and your jaw trembled with barely contained tears. Everyone stood still and watched you try not to unravel.

You took in a shaky breath. “Yes or no…” Your sigh was watery as you closed your eyes to steady yourself before looking back at your father. You licked your lips, “...Is my little brother dead?”

Aberama’s hands fell to his sides, swinging there as he let them go limp. His gaze broke from yours. He was slow to respond, not quite present but not as dazed as part of him wished to be. His voice was low, nearly inaudible. He opened his mouth, struggling to speak, “...Yes.”

You closed your eyes and gaze a silent sob one breath to escape. The tears that had been piling in your eyes finally slipped out. One, two, three slid down your chin and dripped to the gravel beneath your feet. You inhaled again, composing yourself again.

“Are my sisters safe?” you asked.

His eyes could only meet yours for a half second. “They’re with family.”

“Do they know?”

“Not yet.”

The sound of gravel crunching under someone’s shoes has you turning toward the sound with the precision of a trained marksman as you aim the barrel of the gun at Tommy, glaring at him trying to come nearer to you.

“Tommy, I swear to God, if you come any closer, I’ll fucking shoot you.”

He assessed you, taking in your anger, your pain, and deciding from there whether your words were empty. With another step, you gripped the gun tighter, but made no move with the trigger. He approached you slowly, testing you and your threat. By the time he was standing in front of you, you had done nothing but stare at him with a shaky grasp and breath. He placed his hand on the gun, pushing it down and snatching it from your hands. Emptying the barrel, his eyes didn’t leave yours as you watched him limply.

When his arms wrapped around you, the fire in your bones ignited. You were so much like your father in that way—your brother, too—a fighter, all of you. You fought him, you kicked and screamed and punched as you tried to get him to get off of you. Your brother was dead, your baby brother was gone, and you could never get him back and Tommy was standing here trying to hold you to him when you could never hold your brother again?

The touch was much too warm, the confinement stifling. You couldn't breathe, couldn't get the air to your lungs as your gasps made your throat hoarse and rough. The fight left so quickly as Tommy endured against your fight, keeping you locked in his arms until your anger relinquished and you dissolved into nothing but sobs into his shoulder. He held you as you stopped screaming, held you as the tears soaked his clothes. He held you as you trembled, too exhausted to keep fighting. Your legs were on the verge of giving out. He was the only thing to hold you up as you broke down against him.

“He’s dead, Tom,” you sobbed, finally putting your arms around him and holding him tighter than you ever have, your nails digging into him for something to hold on to. “He’s fucking dead. My baby brother’s dead.”

“I know, I know,” he shushed. Tommy cradled you as you rambled, trying to soften your cries as he listened and felt your sentiment too close to heart. The wounds of his own little brother’s death burned in his chest, and he hated you going through it as well. “I’m sorry about your brother. Really, I am.”

Your hands tightened around him, your nails digging deeper until your eyes met your father’s, watching the both of you with a look you couldn’t identify. Your grip on Tommy loosened, and you remembered yourself—the oldest, the caretaker, the voice of reason among voices pleading reparation and revenge. You let go of him, parting with a new numbness as he watched the anger, the emotional agony, disappear into a stone cold mask you’d pulled over your face to offer your father in accompaniment of his pain.

“I need to be with my family,” you said after a moment, your voice already sore and scratchy, your words full of frail strength.

Tommy watched you walk away from him and into your father’s arms, laying your chin on his shoulder as he pulled an arm around your back and held you. You didn’t reciprocate, you couldn’t. Not right now. Aberama held onto you for strength, and Tommy felt like he could see it draining from you by the way your shoulders began to sag.

Anerama’s cold, fiery gaze bore into Tommy, one full of despair and ruthlessness. Tommy sighed, raising a finger toward him. “If you want to take on the Billy Boys, you need me alive,” he warned, looking between the both of you with a variety of thoughts flashing in his head. “Everyone fucking needs me.”

You pulled away from your father, placing your hand on his shoulders and dragging your gaze along him. He was hurt. So was Johnny Dogs. You needed to take care of them. “I’m calling an ambulance,” you said, your voice a monotone droll of duty first. “Hold on, both of you.”

You supported your father’s arm around your shoulders, pulling him into the house to get him cared for as Tommy moved to do the same with Johnny.

Flames rose high, making the air around it dance from the heat and life rising with it. Your sisters, tucked under each of your arms, clung to you as they watched their brother's wagon burn, reduced to ash and dust of a life once lived.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched the fire rise and rise, sucking the tears back in as you remained strong for your grieving sisters. You turned your chin, resting it atop the youngest's head. You glanced away from the fire, and your eyes caught a much darker figure lingering further from the scene, cap pulled over his head and cigarette between his lips as he watched you.

You both watched each other for a moment, neither moving or looking away. By the time your eyes were averted, you'd already made your decision.

When the fire had not roared so wildly and your sisters' quiet sobs were gentler tears, you passed them over to one of your aunts watching the fire burn. Your father was still recovering in the hospital, too hurt to move too far from the bed but too upset to sleep as he sat in bed and watched the time that marked as his son's funeral ticked away minute by minute. With a nod, she gestured you away to take care of them for the moment while you spoke with your mysterious visitor.

Tommy Shelby stood silently where he was as you joined his side. Neither of you looked at one another, your eyes still fixated on the flames. It was silent for a while. You stuffed your hand in the pocket of your jacket and hugged it close for a comfort you felt selfish for wanting.

"They killed him."

Your voice was nearly strained as you spoke, quiet and nearly raspy with the overuse of crying—or keeping from crying—over the past week. You were still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that it had been the first week in the rest of your life without your baby brother.

Tommy cleared his throat, taking his cigarette from his lips. He rolled it between his fingers, considering a response before he gave it. "Your brother will be avenged, Y/N." He flicked it away into the grass, stomping on it with the tip of his shoe to put it out. "I promise you that."

You sighed, late to a reply as you shook your head at his promise to you. "Do what you want, Tommy." Your eyes strayed where they always had, right back to your sisters huddling to your aunt, stricken with grief. You shook your head again turning to Tommy as you swallowed thickly. "But don't make me lose any more family. My sister's stay safe, my father's life or death will be left to his hands or mine."

He turned to you, tilting his head and raising a brow. "You don't want me to keep him alive?"

You looked down at his shoes, thinking for a moment to get your thoughts in order from the messy hurricane they had been in the past week. "Before Bonnie died, I was dreamin' of a big, black bird. Then he did die, and I thought, 'This was it. It got what it wanted, now it'll leave us alone.' But when I managed to sleep that night… that bird was staring me down, much bigger and much louder than before."

You let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself before you continued. "Someone is goin' to die again, Tom." You nearly shuddered at the idea, meeting his gaze. "Don't let it be my sisters."

Tommy looked over you—your well-hidden grief of concealed red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips, messy hair. You were so good at hiding it all, he realised, well-versed in composed disposition.

But you couldn't hide all that pain from him. Reading you was like looking in a mirror.

He took a small step closer and reached down to brush your fingers with his, swiping his thumb over the back of your knuckles momentarily before letting go of you and nodding. "Your sisters will be safe. You have my word." He looked your face up and down. "No black bird will come for them."

You stared at him and blinked once. With a short nod, you looked away from the intensity of his eyes. He lingered there for a moment, your warmth mixing together for a few seconds in the cool air. Without a word, he turned to leave you.

He'd gotten a few steps away before you spoke into the air. "Tommy."

He looked back at you again, waiting expectantly for you to continue.

You swallowed hard. "Stay alive."

His eyes bore into your own, staring as he processed your words. He began walking back over to you, digging his hand in his pocket as he invaded your space. He took your hand in his big palm, setting something in your own and closing your fingers around it before you could see what it was judging the object only by the feel of it in your hand.

He turned and left, didn't spare a single word as he strayed from you.

You opened your hand and stared down at the penny he'd left you with, finding a ghost of a smile in your mind but not yet on your lips as you turned around to rejoin your sisters.

Things changed after that. With your brother gone, you realised all too suddenly how fragile this family of yours was.

Throwing yourself into work and family was the easiest part. Your kids at the school were important to you, your sisters even more so. The children kept you tender, kept you from hardening with the loss of your brother as you held on tight to your joy in life. Your sisters, impossibly dearer to you now, were cherished and loved and you made sure of you. The older of the two got married and was working on her first baby. The younger was joining you as a teacher, which meant she stayed closer to you. That made you very happy.

The hard part was separating from Tommy.

It wasn't intentional. Your late nights with him became more and more scarce as time went on. Being with Tommy, basking in the throes of passion with him during the darkest parts of the night, wrapped in his bedsheets and screaming his name, was a joy you couldn't match with anything else in your life. He was a guilty pleasure, an escape from reality that allowed you to fulfil the darkest desires within your heart that could not be found anywhere else.

You'd tried, once or twice, to push Tommy from your mind by finding another man. You were known to be Gold's prettiest daughter, there were men lining up to have a chance with you, but they were frightened off of it when Tommy Shelby had staked a claim. Now that he wasn't so dominant in your life, they had chances.

And you gave a couple of them chances—you needed someone else, someone safer. But he had his claws so deep inside of you, buried in your body and bitten into your flesh, like he had fired that bullet and left himself permanently marked in your soul.

There was no man like Thomas Shelby.

Slowly losing him was not just a physical thing, though. You hadn't realised how deeply you'd attached yourself to him until he wasn't around as much as he used to be—especially when he'd gone away to America on business. Finding excuses to see him every once in a while included your father meeting him for business and you following after, you wandering into the pub some evenings when you were feeling especially lonely (or simply just missing him) on the off chance that you just might find him there…him calling you late at night desiring you in his bed once more…

He'd called you one night.

You were just getting ready to go to bed, muscles aching and feet sore from working. Just as you were pulling the comforter from your bed, the trilling ring from the telephone screamed through the night air. You sighed, a tired moan slipping from your throat as you dragged yourself to answer.

You picked it up, a soft answer of your name through the line encouraging the person to speak. He hadn't realised how much he missed the sound of your voice until he'd heard it.

"Hello, Miss Gold," he said, his voice deeper, rougher than usual.

You held your breath and felt the sparks of delight in your chest at the sound of his voice. "Tommy…" you breathed, holding the phone closer and sinking into your chair.

"Did you miss me?" he asked. He sounded cocky. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke to you.

You nodded gently. "I still do…" He hummed, and the sound made you shudder. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your wall. "It's the early hours of the morning for you, isn't it? The sun isn't even up yet. You should be asleep, darling."

He hummed again. "Sleep was never really my friend."

You breathed a sigh. "You sound like you just woke up… Was it a nightmare, Tom?"

He didn't answer that. Instead, he let silence linger for a moment before he sighed. "I've been thinking about you."

You licked your lips slowly. "Me, too." You smiled a little. "But I think America is a little too far for me to go just to share your bed." Your smile faltered slightly. "I'm sure you could find some other woman to fuck tonight. A man like you has got plenty of options."

You weren't hostile as you spoke. Your voice remains gentle, if not dismayed by the proposal. Tommy supposed you sounded almost jealous.

"Maybe," his voice came. You swallowed thickly. "But none of the women here seemed to know how to fuck me like you." You heard him sigh. "None of the women here come close to you."

It was oddly comforting, but not comforting enough to be rid of your unreasonable agitation that he has, in fact, been with other women there. But what else did you expect? He wasn't going to stay celibate for you.

You brushed the fabric of the hem of your nightgown between your fingers, licking your lips. "Are any of them pretty?"

"Not like you."

The way he said it, his voice so soft and deep, brushed against your heart some kind of way. You found yourself wishing you were in his bed, not moaning with your back arched, but resting with your head against his chest. You wanted to feel your skin against his, his heart under your hand, his breath on your skin.

"I wish we spent more time together, you and I," you whispered, your voice soft as the whispers of wind. "I'm sorry we fell apart. I miss you." You didn't care how desperate you probably sounded repeating yourself like that. You let your eyes close, imagining him close again.

"Don't apologise," he said. He didn't go further, he simply left it at that with the implication that you knew what the rest of his meaning was. And you did.

"I want to be there with you." But my family needs me.

"I know." And I care so much that I am willing to wait.

You wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him. But you were oceans apart, and there was no getting past that quite soon.

You closed your eyes, inhaling the silence. "Say something to me, darling."

He sighed gently on the other side of the lines. His voice spoke in a way that made you shudder, absorbed in the depth of his timbre.

"I think of you every night, dove… I think of your body in my hands and your lips on mine."

If it weren't for the tone of the line, it'd almost be like you were right there with him, watching him stand over you as you listened to him speak. "What else?" you muttered.

"I think of your legs around my waist and your breath in my ear," he continued. "My name on your lips…"

The slightest whimper escaped you at the sound of that. You breathed in deeply, flattening your palm to your belly. "What would you do to me if I was there with you right now?"

"Oh, I'd fuck you," he put it bluntly. He hummed, and the sound rolled in his throat. "I'd push you against the wall, lift you up, and fuck you until you couldn't stand."

The idea made you weak already. The thought of him taking you rolled in your gut and whispered at your cunt as you clenched around nothing.

"And I wouldn't stop there," he continued, controlling your body with nothing but words as you buried your hand between your thighs and rolled your hips into it. "I'd throw you to the bed and spread your pretty legs apart. I'd taste you, feast on you until you came so many times, you shook. And then I'd fuck you again."

You whispered his name, your breaking trembling.

"I'd put you on your hands and knees, and I'd fuck you into the bed until my name was the only word you knew."

Your breath caught on a moan. You rubbed your finger over your clit, massaging it as you imagined him fulfilling his words. "Would you use my mouth?" you asked breathily.

"Until you could no longer speak."

You cursed under your breath, craving his touch all the more as you fed on the filthy images he put in your head. "I need you, Tom," you whimpered, chasing a high you could not achieve well enough without him.

"I know," he husked. "Keep moaning like that for me."

You did, pleasuring yourself as well as you could. You heard a quiet grunt in his voice across the line and smiled. "Are you touching yourself, Tommy?"

He huffed a breath, listening to you whimper again. "Yeah," he groaned. "Yes, I am, love. You make it hard not to with sounds like that."

You spoke between moans. "I am, too." Obviously, he knew that, but the admission made it all the more erotic. "My hands aren't as big as yours and my fingers aren't as skilled…" You sighed gently, "But your voice is enough to get me off."

Your fingers plunged inside of you, not half as fulfilling as Tommy's as you worked at your clit. "What else would you do to me?"

The sounds of his hand pumping his cock, fast and wet, reached the phone as you listened to the slick sound behind his sighs and groans. "I'd hold you down," he said. "I'd hold you down and shove my cock so deep inside of you." He cursed under his breath as your moans became a little louder, your limbs tingling with a daunting release. "I'd make you fucking scream for me when I hold you down and fill you up."

You moaned loudly that time, so close. Just brushing the edge of pleasure. "Tommy," your voice was insistent, higher-pitched and desperate. "Fuck, Tom."

He was breathless as he listened to you. "I'd fucking breed you," he whispered. "I'd fill you up and breed you, and you would carry my child."

You muffled a rough moan before gasping for breath. "I'm gonna cum, Tom. Fuck, I'm gonna cum for you."

"Then fucking cum."

Your release hit you then, washing over you like a refreshing wave. Not half as powerful as his hands would have made it, but certainly not discontented. His name fell from your tongue again and again as you came, clutching the phone tightly in your grip and wishing it was him.

"That's it," he rasped, his breath choppy. "That's right. Say my name, love."

"Oh, Tommy," you sighed.

You listened to a dark groan rumble in his throat, your brain becoming dizzy with the sound of his panting breath as his own orgasm burst through him. Your name was the word falling from his lips, as if your hands had been the one wrapped around his cock (as you wished they had been). Your heart pounded in his chest as you listened to him cum.

Silence settled as your highs subsided and your breaths steadied. The buzz of pleasure dulled until your hazy mind was cleared enough to think straight.

You were the one to break the silence, to long for his voice so much that the comfort of the quiet was not pleasing enough to keep you from feeding your addiction.

"When are you coming back, Tommy?"

He sighed. There was a pause. "When business here is done."

"When is that?"

"Soon," he said. "Soon." He almost seemed as dismayed by the answer as you.

Your chest ached. "I miss you." That was the third time you said that, bringing far too much truth and desperation to the words as you both let it settle in.

"Just keep talking," he spoke, his voice taking on a different kind of depth as it became soft once more. "Tell me about school. How are the children?" You heard the sound of Tommy's lighter as he flicked it on for a cigarette. "Or your sisters, how are they?"

Your eyes wandered to the clock again. "But it's late, darling, and you need sleep."

"I don't need to sleep right now," he dismissed.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, you do."

He paused, and the silence built for just a moment before he spoke again. "Why don't we flip a coin then?" You raised a brow. "Heads, and I'll go to sleep. Tails, you tell me about your sisters and the school. Deal?"

Your lips twitched in a tiny smile, and you sighed. "Okay. Flip a coin, then."

You listened to some rustling for just a moment, and then relative silence on his end. When he spoke again, he seemed to be smiling. "What is it?" you asked.

"Tails."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yes."

You laughed, actually laughed. He called you pathetic when you were moaning underneath him, but there he was lying to keep you on the phone for the pleasure of your company. And, although he'd never admit it, he was definitely the pathetic one when he was weak at the sound of your laughter.

"Okay," you said once your laughter eased to a small giggle. "Well, my littlest sister has officially started at my school. She's teaching the year beneath me. I'm so proud of her."

Tommy sat there and listened to you talk, keeping you there for hours. Every time you suggested it had been too long, he found another excuse to keep you talking, and you complied because you couldn't think of anything you'd enjoy less than ending your call. He may have been selfish, but so were you.

Even as the morning sun was beginning to bleed through his curtains, he listened to your voice. He listened to it slow, dragging behind as the exhaustion creeped in more and more. He listened to your words becoming quieter and quieter until you no longer finished your sentences. And when your words stopped altogether, he stayed back a little while after that to listen to your gentle breaths.

Then he hung up and pushed himself to his feet. He had business to take care of.

Fire and ash and dust. That's all your family seemed good for at this point.

Aberama Gold was dead.

Your father was dead.

Granted, a lot of people died that night but fuck. You'd lost your brother, and now your father has joined him in that shithole of a death and left your sisters in your care. Again.

It had been three years of relative peace. You had thought that maybe—just maybe—he would die a normal death. Tommy had returned from America after the stock market crashed, business got bad and foes entered the arena again. Your father, naturally, went to his side. You'd begged whatever cruel gods there were that what took him would be something natural—old age or fucking illness.

To be murdered the way he was… He wasn't supposed to die that way, he wasn't. You hadn't taken care of your family as well as you had for both your brother and father to be so violently killed.

Now the flames licked at the remains of his life, engulfed in fire and likely damning his soul to hell.

You were so tired of losing people. You hoped and prayed for it to stop as you tried to sleep that night. You begged for it all to end when you met that bird in your dreams once again after three short years of silence, feeding off your grief like a vulture.

Tommy had never seen you at such a low.

He'd seen the blaring lights of your car in the front, watched them shut off through the window. He didn't know, at first, that it was you. He just assumed it was someone coming for business—despite the hour—and that he would handle it when he got to it.

But when he heard voices in the main room, voices that were very clearly not from any man and wouldn't be from his sister, he stood from his desk and went to meet it.

He found you there with Charlie, holding one of his toys and laughing when he laughed as you played with him. Tommy watched, fine at first at the way you handled him, so gentle and sweet, a natural caregiver. Charlie's enchanted by you and your sweetness.

But something was off, and he knew it. You'd just lost your father and now you were here, likely waiting for him.

"Mary," Tommy called gently. You only noticed he was standing there then as you turned your head and gave him a wide smile. Your eyes were droopy and glazed over as you slouched where you sat.

Mary arrived quickly, awaiting instruction. "Take Charlie to bed please." She did, walking up to the little boy with a smile as she took his hand. He waved at you, and you waved back.

When Charlie's gone, you stare off in the direction you left with a sigh. "Your little Charlie's so sweet, Tom," you smiled, turning to face him for a moment. You sighed and let your hands fall to your belly, "I want one of me own one day."

He hummed, walking over to you. "Until then," he leaned down and lifted you to your feet, "you need your sleep."

"No." You shook your head quickly. Your words slurred together. "No, no, I don't need to sleep." He walked with you down the hall, and you fought him (although not effectively, just insistently). "If I sleep, I dream. If I dream, I dream of a big, black bird."

You turned around and started walking the opposite way down the hall as he tried to usher you toward the stairs. He followed after you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and holding you there as his lips lingered behind your ear. "The black bird came and went."

You shook your head, leaning your head back on his shoulder and staring at the ceiling with a far off look and a smile that didn't match your grief. "He's still there, darling." You sighed shakily. "Gets bigger every night."

He stood there for a moment with his arms around your waist before dipping down to pick you up in his arms, carrying you up the stairs like a bride. "No one is dying, Miss Gold," he ensured. "Not your sisters and definitely not you."

He carried you all the way up as you turned to face him, worry in your face. "And what about you, Tommy?" You stared at him as he continued down the hall. You raised a hand to his cheek cradling it for a moment. "Are you dying?"

He stared at you, standing in the doorway of his room. He could smell the liquor on your lips, he could see the glaze in your eyes as they stare at you, unfocused. He shook his head. "No," he said. "Not today." He licked his lips and walked farther into the room, closing the door behind him. "My work isn't done yet."

You chuckled, brushing your fingers along his jawline. "The black bird comes for us all." Your smile turned sour as you stared at him before your eyes dropped to his lips.

Tommy sighed. "Not tonight." He lowered you onto the bed, grabbing the covers to try to put over you. "Now go to sleep."

You pushed the covers off you, sitting up on your knees and taking his face in your hands. "I don't want to sleep, darling."

He held his hands to your waist. "No? What do you want?"

You put it bluntly, your words sticky and attempting sultry seduction. It's harder when you're drunk.

"I want you," you moaned, kissing his lips briefly as you speak. "I want you to fuck me. Want you to pin me to the ground and shove your cock in me, sir." You leaned back on your elbows, spreading your legs for him. "Take my mind from the pain in my heart and put it on the pain in my knees."

Tommy watched you. He leaned forward and cupped the side of your neck in his palm. His dark eyes looked up and down your face, lingering on your lips as you smiled at him. He shook his head, "I'm not going to fuck you." Your smile fell, and you looked like you would cry. "Not until I know you're okay, and right now, you need sleep."

He shifted you to lay back against the pillows. You still wouldn't comply, placing a hand on his chest and keeping me back. "Don't make me sleep, Tommy." You seemed almost desperate, but the fatigue was still etched in the expression on your face, there in the depths of your eyes. "Please. I can be such a good girl if you let me."

He was unyielding, urging you back with gentle hands. "Be my good girl and lie down." He kicked his shoes off, undoing the top buttons of his shirt to pull it over his head and unfastening his belt.

"Tom," you mumbled, still refusing, even if your movements are becoming weaker by the second.

"Come on, next to me," he said gently, settling into the bed with you as he pulled you close to him.

"Thomas," you whispered.

He shook his head, "Sleep now." He pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to soothe you. You shifted and kissed his lips, moving your leg over his body to sit on top of him as you smoothed your hands on his chest. You reached down to undo the button of his pants.

Tommy wasn't having it. You wouldn't be getting your way tonight if he could help it as he grabbed your hands. He rolled you over onto your back as he now hovered above you. His hands held your own at either side of your head, keeping you pressed into the bed as he stared down at you.

Your eyes bore into his own and you held your breath as he leaned forward. You lifted your head as much as you could, wanting to meet you in the middle. His face stopped just out of your reach as he shook his head. "Sleep."

He moved off of you, laying down and pulling you onto his chest. He took your hand in his, holding it as the other one rubbed soothing into your back.

You stared at him as he eased you to sleep, and he did the same. He watched your eyelid grow too heavy for you to keep open. He listened to your breath even out. He felt your body go limp against him as finally…you fell asleep next to him.

He kissed your forehead and rested back to do the same.

Breath filled your lungs as the bite of consciousness nipped at your heels. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around, finding yourself in a familiar place with the familiar feeling of Tommy Shelby's chest under your cheek.

And for a split second, you forget everything. You forget the death of your brother, the death of your father, the grief of your sisters and yourself. You forget it all in favour of this moment with Tommy, peaceful and undisturbed.

But then it all came back, and you were shoved back to the reality where your family was dying and you still had to hold it all together.

Your mind was clearer now, the alcohol had washed away and made the weight of it all heavier to bear. You were tired, you were miserable, and all you wanted to do was wade off into the stream and sleep.

Your breath caught in your throat and shook. The pain in your chest and in your stomach twisted, wetting your face and encouraging the tiny sob you tried so hard to keep in. You didn't want to disturb, not when he slept so peacefully next to you with an arm tucked around your body. But your cries, however quiet, roused him from his rest.

He eased up to look down at you. Shushing you softly, he pulled you in closer and placed a hand to your cheek to have you look at him. His thumb wiped your tears away as it came, smearing them on the skin of your cheeks as he placed a tender kiss to your forehead. You want to cherish it more—tenderness is not a word associated with this man—but you can only lean into it and nothing more.

You buried your head into the crook of his neck, hiding your face there. "It hurts, Tommy," you breathed.

"I know it does," he said. He stroked a hand along your head, rubbing your back. "Go back to sleep."

You shook your head. "I don't want to sleep."

He sighed, pulling you from his neck to stroke your cheeks as he looked at your face, streaked with tears he wiped away. "Maybe not, but you need to."

You shook your head, placing a hand over his chest. "I want to feel something else, Tommy," you confessed. You smoothed your hand up the length of his chest, up the side of his neck as you cradled him. "I want you. I want you to take me like you did the first time." Memories of that night flooded into you. "Be rough with me, Tommy. Be hard and mean, make me cry."

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his as your eyes fluttered closed. He leaned into you, slotting your lips with his as the kiss sank into a depth he knew too well with you, a depth he knew he shouldn't have had with you but did anyway. You sighed at the feeling of it, and he did the same.

As the kiss broke with a tiny smack, he cradled your cheek in his large palm. He sighed, "No."

You frowned and ducked your head against his chest. "Please, Tommy," you whispered, broken and helpless.

He lifted your face again, pressing his lips to yours once more in another very slow and very soft kiss. The warm feeling washed over you and provided a comfort you find it hard to keep. "Don't worry, love," he said as he pulled away. "I'll make you cry."

He sat up, turning over so you laid on the sheets and he leaned over you, his hands on either side of your head in the pillows. "But I'm not going to hurt you," he kissed your lips, "and I'm not going to yell," your jaw, "and I'm not going to call you names," your neck. His hand stroked up your chest, and you thought he'd clasp it around your neck. Instead, he held his palm gently against the side of your neck and kissed you again. As he pulled away, he stared into your eyes, his piercing blues and little less piercing and a little more soothing. He looked at you like you were the stars.

"I'm going to make love to you."

He leaned down and kissed your neck again, tilting your head away to give him more access to press his lips against the skin of your throat. They slid down, not a trace of teeth, only lips and tongue and a kind of tenderness that made you shiver.

One of his legs, buried between your thighs, shifted up to ghost over the ache there. You bit your lip, a small mewl slipping between them at the feeling of your pleasure.

But you didn't want tenderness. You didn't want him to make love to you. You wanted him to shove you to the floor and fuck you like you weren't worth anything. You wanted him to take you over his lap and smack your arse. You wanted him to make you take his cock down your throat and keep it there until he decided it was enough.

But that was not what he did.

Tommy kissed you and kissed you. He ghosted his hands over your body and stroked your skin like you were made of glass. He slipped your clothes off of you and set them neatly to the side, doing the same to the rest of his own. He grazed his lips along your body and let his tongue adore the flesh he could reach. He tasted the sweetness of your skin. He filled your body with pleasure and intimacy and so much care.

"Relax," he whispered, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. "You're alright, love. Let me take care of you."

You couldn't take it. It was too gentle, too fond, too much filling that ache inside of you that had become so permanent in your life, you'd forgotten it was ever even there. Even as you tried to press his head closer, he was gentle. Even as you moved your hips up to meet him, he was gentle. Even as you dug your nails into his skin, wanting to rile him up until he forgot his care and took you like a dog, he was gentle.

Because you needed it.

He lifted your thighs over his shoulders, settling between them as he darted his tongue out and licked a long strip up your pussy. You sighed when his lips closed around your clit and he suckled on it. His tongue licked you up in slow, soft laps, dipping between your folds and curling.

"Tommy, please," you begged, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging. The feeling was too nice, too kind. It writhed in your gut, tingled in your fingers. You needed the burn, you needed the fire. But he would only give you the warmth and closeness that made your throat tight.

His finger played at your pussy, coating him in your slick before slipping into you, a slow thrust in and out as he pushed it in deep. You watched him, whimpering pathetically and hoping your weakness will make him dangerous.

That's how it goes right? Taunt a beast with fresh blood and he'll attack?

But Tommy didn't seem to be holding the values of a beast tonight. His kind fingers filled your pussy and stroked inside of you. He licked and kissed and stroked until you began to tighten around him. His thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing slow, sure circles into it to build you higher and higher.

You were so used to his cruelty, the way he brought you to your pique with gentle hands was so foreign as you moaned. The pleasure wasn't blinding. It unfurled in your belly and then spread over the rest of your body. It loosened all the tension in your muscle and bone, it soothed your blood and lessened the crushing weight on your shoulders. You opened your legs wider, spreading yourself open for more as you keened for his touch.

"Good girl," he whispered to you, his fingers still working away. "Good, breathe." He didn't stop, even as you were coming down from your high. His fingers kept at it, his lips kissed the slick from your folds and whispered praises to you that you never thought you'd hear from him. "I'm right here. You're not alone."

"Tom," you huffed, cradling his cheek in one hand. "Thomas."

Your breaths filled your lungs, made you dizzy with him, surrounded by his scent and his touch. "I know, love," he said. "You're doing great."

His lips met your clit again. His tongue delved into your cunt and licked the wetness off of you. He kept you spread open wide for him as he painted his empathy into you.

He continued to whisper to you as he stroked your clit through to your second orgasm, watching your back arch and your chest expand and listening to your breath shudder through your weak moan. The pleasure washed over like waves on the shore of a beach.

Tommy let your legs down and kissed your belly, an open-mouthed kiss that let's his tongue graze your skin. He moved back up your body, aiming to kiss you again before stopping at your breasts. He took one of them in his hand, squeezing gently and brushing his thumb over your nipple.

Shivers rushed down your spine at the feeling, even more so when he leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicked it, hardening it to a peak as he licked the tip into your nipple. He rolled it in his mouth, playing with it in the way only he knew how, feeding off your sighs of pleasure.

When that one was hard enough, he switched to the other side, giving it the same treatment as he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger. You brought your hands to his hair, your grasp much looser as you held onto him.

"Tommy, please kiss me," you sighed as he spent too much time away from your lips. He relented to you, roles reversed as he moved to do exactly that. His lips were warm and plump against yours, still tasting of your slick as his tongue brushed your own and he sucked gently on your bottom lip.

He pulled at you, staring with pupils wide as dimes. His knuckles grazed along your jaw. "Do you want my cock, love?" he asked.

You nodded, crossing your arms at your wrists above your head and wrapping your legs around his waist. "Yes, sir," you nearly begged. "I want it rough."

It was a last ditch effort.

But Tommy shook his head, taking your wrists and pulling them back down to kiss. "No," he said. "You're not getting it rough." He moved your arms around his neck, and you held them there.

Your frown deepened. "Please, sir."

He shook his head. "Use my name."

"Sir?"

"Use my name," he said again, his voice holding a whisper of the dominance you were used to while remaining the soft and gentle whisper you weren't. "What's my name?"

"Thomas Shelby." You were really just trying to get a rise out of him. Again, last ditch effort. Maybe he'd break and fuck you like you wanted it. So hard, you forgot everything that had been hurting you.

"What is my name?" he repeated himself. You felt like it was the last time he would.

"Tommy," you whispered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his. He did the same, kissing your lips quickly.

"Do you want me?"

"Badly."

"Then I'll give me to you. I'm going to make love to you," he lined himself up with you, stroking the hard length of himself a couple of times. "I'm going to be gentle," he kissed your lips, "and I'm going to be slow," he pressed the head of his cock at your folds, "And I'm going to make you cry."

With one thrust of his hips, he pushed himself inside of you, splitting you on his cock and filling you with his length. A deep sigh slipped out of both of you as your eyes fluttered. He pressed himself all the way inside of you, buried to the hilt and lingered there.

"I'm going to do this because you deserve it," he continued, his voice strained with a slight grunt. His hips eased back, pulling out slowly to the tip before pushing back in. "Because you are gentle," he rolled his hips into you, "and loving," he pulled out to the tip again, "and you don't get nearly enough of it back." He filled you again, you gasped.

His body weight on top of yours was a comfort. He didn't drop all of his weight on top of you, but what he did give was a pleasant pressure on your body. You wrapped yourself as tightly around him as you could, trying to bury your face in his shoulder and being stopped when he pulled you back to look him in the eyes. He stared at you, gazed into the depths of your eyes as he continued to speak, his words a whisper and his tenderness a salve to a broken heart.

"You deserve so much," he grunted. The drag of his cock inside of you was intoxicating, and you wanted more. But he did not change. His pace was slow and steady and filled you with so much emotion, you felt you were going to burst. You were struggling to hold it all in.

"You're beautiful," he said.

You shook your head, "Stop."

"You're lovely."

You tried to turn away, he kept you looking him in the eyes. "Tommy, please."

He held your jaw, still kind, and gazed into your eyes like he was afraid you wouldn't hear him otherwise. "You're fucking perfect."

You broke into a sob, quiet but all-consuming. His hips didn't stop, he kept thrusting in long, deep strokes, grinding his hips into yours and wiping your tears. "You hear me? Eh?" he said, kissing you again. "You're fucking perfect."

His praise was too much for you. He was too nice. You were too used to nice, but kindness coming from a person like this—a man who had fucked you into the floor and called you a filthy whore, a man who had bought you with a penny and used you like a toy—it gave a kind of pleasure you couldn't quite explain as he stroked your cheeks and wiped your tears and told you that you were perfect.

"Anyone who tells you different is a fucking liar," he whispered in your ear, grinding in deep. "You're fucking beautiful and you're lovely and you're perfect. I need you to know that, I need you to know how fucking perfect you are."

You cupped his face in your hands, cherishing him as he spoke, as he thrusted into you, as he filled you with his care and praise and promise. "Do you hear me?" he asked as you closed your eyes shut, overcome by your tears. "Open your eyes and look at me. I need you to see me when I call you my fucking girl."

You whimpered, sighing with every thrust of his hips and holding him to you with your legs and arms. His breath shuddered as he pressed himself deep inside you, your bodies pressed flat together, and rolled his hips into you, stroking that deep part of you that had you gasping for breath.

"Thomas, ahh," you keen, your breath catching on a moan.

He was pressing kisses into the crook of your neck, ghosting his lips where he could reach pressed so closely to you. Your breath shook and your eyes fluttered as you focused on nothing but Tommy, being his girl, being his. You wanted it more than you wanted to admit.

One of his large hands pressed to your cheek as he turned you to look at him. "You said you wanted a baby of your own, eh? I'll put one in you right now. I'd have you growing round with my fucking child." His hips jerked once, a stuttered thrust pulling a moan from you at the idea. "The perfect mother for my child."

A broken sob pulled from your chest at his words, the thought of him having such a claim on you intoxicating you with warmth. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you still pulled him in closer as your bodies were pulled flush together.

She watched him above her, his eyes not quite as cold and piercing, his lips two kisses from swollen, and his cheeks pink with the blood rushing through his veins. His hands on your hips tightened as you met his gaze. Then he let go of you, and you missed the warmth of his palms until his finger intertwined with your own and his thumbs brushed the meat of your palms. He pulled them above your head, pulling both hands into one of his and burying his other hand between your thighs to play with your swollen clit.

"Thomas," you whispered, your voice shallow and breathy and teetering on a moan. You whispered his name again, and again, and again as you felt the pleasure building within you.

His rhythm began to falter, his hips not as steady as before as your whispers of his name beckoned him closer to his release. He cursed under his breath, his chest heavy with breath and something else.

He felt as your pussy tightened around him, squeezing and warming his already hot cock as you grew closer to that tender embrace of ecstasy. "Fuck," he muttered. "Cum for me, love. Let it all go."

And you did. Your back arched and your jaw went slack, your muscles tightened and you fluttered around his cock as you came. A loud moan rolled out of you like the tidal wave that washed over you. You stuttered out his name as you felt him bury his cock deep inside of you as he ground his hips, groaning roughly as he finally came with you.

You wrapped your legs tighter around him as he spilled inside of you, filling you with his cum and making the warmth of it all spread throughout your tired limbs. "Tommy," you whimpered, your voice caught in the pleasure. "Fuck, I love you."

It was a string of words that left your lips in a rush, a fantasy that clawed its way to the surface and revealed something you weren't quite sure you knew yourself. It took you a moment to even realise what had left your mouth, you were so drowned in the dreamlike state he put you in.

Tommy's thrusts slowed to a stop as he stared at your face, his lips parted and plump. He didn't pull out of you or say a word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and brushed his thumb over your skin. You stilled as you stared at him, your heart pounding in fear of his response.

He still didn't speak for a while, watching your face and wiping away the fallen tears streaking on your skin. He licked his lower lip.

"Say it again."

Another tear slipped as you watched him, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I'm sorry," you murmured. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it. It's nothing."

He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his thumb on your bottom lip before releasing it gently. "So you don't love me?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't lie to him, even if you tried. You had only just realised it yourself, only just succumbed to your rogue subconscious and blurted out a secret thought in the heat of the moment. A thought too true for you to deny as you stared at the blue eyes you had spent months—years—memorising, the plush lips your own had kissed a million times over.

"Do you love me?" he asked, his face barely an inch from yours once again. "Hm?"

You swallowed thickly, your voice was hardly a whisper. "Yes."

"Then say it again."

You sighed shakily and licked your bottom lip. "I love you…Tommy."

He closed his eyes and breath in deep, letting it out slowly and softly as he repeated the words in his head like a broken record. You waited in anticipation of his response.

He leaned forward and met your lips with his own, the kiss slow and soft and endearing, brimming with care.

"Good," he whispered back, his voice rough and quiet. "Because I love you, too. Right here, right now, without a doubt… I love you."

You brought your hands to wrap around his neck and pulled him in. He thought you were going to kiss him, but you just held him tightly against your body as you closed your eyes and cried. For the longest time, with your bodies pressed together, with his cock still snug inside of you, with your tears slipping down your cheeks and into your hairline, you cried.

He petted you, stroking his hand along your hair and holding you to him. He let you cry without interruption, without shushing you and telling you "it's okay". He let you sob against him with all the love and grief and care and anger in your heart.

And when your cries subsided and you were able to breathe again, he rolled onto his side and brought you with him as he kissed you again, just as tender and loving as the ones before.

You laid your head on your chest, sniffling gently as your finger smoothed along his skin. "Do you really love me?" you asked quietly.

He nodded, thinking on the way holding you right then made him feel, the nostalgic feeling that filled his homes at the reminder of a love he'd once held in the past, one that still haunts him to this day and only eased with the idea of you. "Yes."

You nodded gently. "You ever been in love before?"

He was a little more hesitant this time, but he still nodded once more as his hand stroked your shoulder. "Yes." He glanced down at you, "Have you?"

You shook your head, "Not like this…" He didn't reply, and you swallowed thickly. "Do you…" You let out a tiny breath. "Do you think I'm going to have a baby now?"

He looked at you and grinned, a look that made you warm. "Hopefully," he chuckled. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, "Gives me an excuse to put a ring on your finger."

You sat up and looked at him, surprise written across your face. "A ring? Already?"

He opened his clear eyes again, still smiling. "I've already decided I'm not letting anyone else have you. So, yes, already." He leaned forward, meeting you halfway in another kiss. "I'm marrying you, love."

You smiled slowly, letting it grow and grow and grow until your cheeks hurt and then after. Glancing away from his face, you let out a tiny chuckle. You eased your way out of the bed, out of his embrace, and went to his coat where you fished a coin from his pockets.

Slipping back into bed next to him, you fiddled with the coin between your fingers. "I'll flip you for it," you smiled. "Heads–"

He took the coin from your hand. "Heads, you marry me. Tails, I marry you. Either way, we're getting married, we're having that baby, and you're stuck with me forever." He tossed the coin away so it landed somewhere on the floor where you couldn't see it with a loud drawl.

You bit your bottom lip, failing to contain a beautiful smile. You nodded, "Okay." You kissed his lips, grinning still as you just kept nodding. "Okay."

"Good," he said, holding you close again and stroking your side. "You're mine, Mrs. Shelby."

You couldn't hold in the chuckle that slipped from your lips. "Well," you sighed happily. "A deal's a deal."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @papichulo120627 @globetrotter28 Tag yourself here...

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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

mer-shrimpy?

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: The Prefect has an accident in alchemy (courtesy of Ace, Deuce, and Grim) and has turned into a merperson!! Floyd witnesses this and drags them to Octavinelle, where they hang out with the Octotrio until Crewel can reverse the spell.

Author's Comments: i love these absolutely menaces they're my favorite ever i want to hold their hands and hugs them (and give azul smooches.) this ends in kind of a choose your own adventure way?

~~~~~

A bright, multicolored puff of smoke erupted from the cauldron in front of you as Ace and Deuce argued, Grim scurrying around your ankles as he cackled. The noise stopped immediately after the smoke cleared, but you still couldn’t see much of anything. It was only when you realized that you couldn’t breathe very well that you started to panic, flopping around the floor.

Wait, flopping?

You looked down at your legs, only to see the bottom half of a shrimp of all things.

“Bad pups! Stay!” Crewel yelled, quickly approaching your tiny form on the ground, “Ramshackle Prefect, are you alright?”

“Shrimpy?” Floyd leered, peeking over Crewel’s shoulders, “What did you guys do to them, huh?”

Ace and Deuce stepped back a bit, intimidated by the sharp glare Floyd sent their way.

“The water breathing potion must have backfired. What did you add into your potion?” Crewel glared.

“Um…dunno.” Ace mumbled, “I’m sorry, Prefect. I didn’t mean to make you…tiny.”

You tried to voice that it was okay, that you weren’t dying, but nothing came out but sharp shrieking noises and ragged gasps.

“It’s hard to breathe-!” you gasped, choking on air.

“Ehh? It's hard to breathe? You need water or something?” Floyd hummed, his words sending Deuce running to the nearest large plastic container to fill it up for you.

You were more impressed that he’d deciphered what you’d said.

“You can understand me?” you choked out, the sound coming out garbled and raspy.

He tilted his head, kneeling down to you, “Of course I can, Little Shrimp! Did your brain get tiny too? You’re just speaking mer.”

You were about to speak again before Floyd lifted you into his arms, curling his arms around your body and holding you close. He nuzzled your forehead affectionately, his teeth scraping against the skin.

“Leech! Unhand the Prefect!” Crewel demanded, swooping in with the container of water Deuce filled, “This is why you all needed remedial lessons in the first place!”

“Aww, no fun. I wanna play with Shrimpy!” he pouted, turning away and using his upper body to hide you away.

“It’s okay, Floyd. I’ll play with you later.” you promised, “Just please let me breathe.”

“Fiiiine. I don’t want Jade and Azul yelling at me for not taking good care of you. Whatever.” he huffed, annoyed at the idea of letting you go.

He dropped you into the water unceremoniously, the small splash briefly disorienting you before you became used to the feeling of breathing water. It honestly felt like the bathtubs at home, with the container just barely fitting you. Your tail was bent at an odd angle in order for you to breathe properly, and Floyd looked annoyed at your mild discomfort. He brightened up a second later, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I know! Shrimpy, let’s go to my dorm! We have a lot of water, and you can swim all you’d like! Then we can play all we want!” he grinned, sharp teeth gleaming in the light.

“That may be the best idea given the situation.” Crewel agreed, turning his gaze to you, “What do you think?”

You nodded, heart jumping at the thought of a bigger pool. You could breathe and have leg room in the Octavinelle pools, though you’d need to learn how to use your new bottom. You couldn’t imagine how hard it had been to transition from a tail to legs for Floyd and Jade, and in Azul’s case, tentacles. You kept trying to move how you would with your legs, but it felt you only had one big leg and only moved one way. Crossing your arms over your chest, you blew annoyed bubbles in the water.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd cooed, scooping up the container with ease, “Come on, we’re going on a trip! Just me and Shrimpyyy!”

You tried your best to hold onto the container as Floyd slung you around the hall, yelling cheerfully about how much fun he was going to have with you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you’d reach Octavinelle soon.

“Floyd, what are you doing?” someone questioned, the amused tone all too familiar.

“Jade!” he beamed, shoving the container of Jade in Jade’s face, “Look at our Shrimpy! Aren’t they cute?”

Our?!

“Indeed.” Jade chuckled, raising a brow as you floated aimlessly around the water, “I assume you were taking them to the pool in Octavinelle?”

“Where else? We need to keep our little Shrimpy close, don’t we?”

“That we do. I’ll walk with you.”

You wished you could chew them out about this stupid “our” business, but all that came out were more little shrieks and yelps. Floyd laughed, and that’s when you remembered that they could understand you.

“Poor thing. You sound so sad when you talk like that. I can barely understand you.” Jade sighed, acting all disappointed when you knew he was teasing.

“Mean!” you shrieked, and they both laughed.

Sinking back into the water, you blew annoyed bubbles until you found yourself in Octavinelle. The dorm was beautifully decorated, no doubt part of Azul’s influence. You furrowed your brow, looking from left to right. Where was Azul? It was after school, so there was only one other place he could be.

“Don’t fret, Little Pearl.” Jade hummed, staring down at you with half lidded eyes that scream trouble, “If you’re looking for Azul, he’s in his office. Of course, our priority lies with you as of now, but Floyd can retrieve him if you so wish.”

“Ehhh? Why me? I wanna play with Shrimpy.” he moped, holding the container of water closer to his chest.

“Oh, but Floyd, the Little Pearl doesn’t know how to use their tail. Wouldn’t it be more fun to play with them when they can run away? I will teach them the basics while you fetch Azul.” Jade hummed, attempting to placate his brother.

Floyd thought on it for a few seconds before brightening up, showing the container into Jade’s arms. With a loud promise of playing with you later, Floyd bolted towards the VIP Room.

Poor Azul.

“Well hello there.” Jade smiled down at you, his face distorted in the still sloshing water, “What do you say we get you in the pool, hm?”

You nodded, blowing more bubbles in the water. Jade chuckled politely, carrying you off into a hallway near the back of the dorm. You stood stationary inside the water as Jade hummed a tune, finally stopping in front of a door and pushing it open with his hip. The water sloshed over the side of the container, wetting his glove. Jade muttered a quiet apology and set the container down next to the wide expanse of clear water, his soaked gloved hand reaching into the water to pet your head.

“Do you mind if I lift you up? I hardly think dumping someone as delicate as you into a pool would be kind.” he hummed, pulling his gloves off one finger at a time, “I will also be shifting into my merform, so you won’t be lonely.”

You nodded, poking your head above the water. Jade’s bare hands were a sight you’d never seen before, and you were surprised at how soft they looked considering most of his free time was spent digging around in terrariums and even mountains. He noticed you staring, eyes crinkling in the corners as he chuckled. Without any warning, he swooped down gracefully, closing on you far too quickly for your liking. You jerked back, water sloshing over the sides of the container once again as Jade’s fangs glinted in the overhead lights.

“Don’t be shy, Little Pearl.” he cooed, dipping his bare hands into the water and scooping you up as though you were a plant ready to be repotted, “I won’t hurt you. I’ll treat you delicately, with all the care a little morsel like you deserves.”

Your eyes went wide at the morsel comment, but before you could see anything Jade had set you in the pool. Even though the water looked clear on the surface, there was a light fog settling within the water that made it hard to see much of anything. You jumped when you heard a splash a little ways away from you, but when you looked you couldn’t see anything. Fear coursed through your veins as you waited, unable to use your tail to swim towards where you hoped Jade had dove in with you. Gulping water through your gills, you tried to take deep breaths to calm down. They wouldn’t eat you, obviously. This was Jade. He just wanted to see you jump.

And jump you did, when a green blur gently tapped your tail from behind.

You jumped backward, whipping around to face none other than Jade. Crossing your arms, you glared at him as he chuckled, eyes narrowed.

“Apologies, Little Pearl. I wanted to see how you would react. It’s quite entertaining to see you out of your element.” he hummed, swishing his tail around as he darted in circles around you, “Now, do you think you’re ready to try swimming?”

“How do you guys work these things?!” you blurted, flopping in the pool like a fish on land, “It’s so hard to manage-”

“Don’t move it like you’d move your own two legs. Move like your legs have been merged into one.” Jade hummed, smirking at your struggle.

You jerked your tail as you managed to go forward, a small accomplishment in the grand scheme of things. Jade looked so proud though, and you tried not to let him feed your ego too much. He was probably laughing at you internally anyway.

“Good Little Pearl.” he hummed, swimming a bit further away, “Keep going. I’m certain you’ll be able to use that tail of yours efficiently in no time.”

With that praise, you tried even harder to swim towards him. It wasn’t as hard as it used to be now that you were thinking of your bottom as two legs merged together, and it occurred to you that merpeople had to pretend that their tail had been split in two. You wondered how they got used to feet, or even if they’d had a foot cramp before. Did merpeople have tail cramps?

You were too in your own head. As you snapped out of it, you realized that Jade had moved a bit farther, and had gone deeper into the pool. In the dimmer lighting at the bottom, you could swear his golden eye was glowing, beckoning you deeper into the pool like a siren. You almost didn’t go deeper.

Almost.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they said, and curiosity was about to kill you.

So you swam down, chasing after Jade as he darted between the various types of coral, their jagged forms rising from the sand like nature’s fortified towers. Octavinelle was truly a beautiful dorm.

With beautiful people, you thought as you watched Jade look back at you, his eyes gleaming. His expression was playful as he twirled in a circle, darting into some faded yellow coral. Without a second thought, you swam after his, elated that you were finally getting the hang of your tail.

“What are you doing here?!” a loud hissed reverberated in the water, and Jade immediately darted in front of you like a guard dog.

A familiar face poked out from the coral, his blue gray eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Azul?” you gasped, eyes widening at the surprise, “I thought you were back in your VIP Room?”

“Wh- Angelfish? Why are you a…?” Azul trailed off, head tilting to the side as he examined you, “...Nevermind that. You need to get out. Out! Leave!”

“Azul, it’s okay.” Jade spoke, his voice calm and collected.

He still hadn’t moved away from you though.

“Azul, is everything okay?” you asked, keeping your distance.

The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him.

“Angelfish, please leave. You shouldn’t see me like this.” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrank back into the coral, “It’s not a pretty sight, I assure you. Now, if you will-”

“There’s no part of you that I wouldn’t find nice.” you said, voice so stern it surprised you, “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to show me, but I promise I won’t judge you for anything. I’m literally a shrimp right now.”

You flicked your tail in his direction for emphasis, and Jade snorted. He seemed to have drifted off the side since you two figured out it was Azul and not some other random student.

“Aaaaazul!” Floyd called, darting out of nowhere into the coral Azul was hiding in, “Come play with us!”

“Floyd, no-!” Azul yelped as he was slammed out of his hidey hole, a writhing mass of black following his front as Floyd cackled. Your eyes widened at the appendages as he struggled to hide them, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. He kept shooting you panicked glances, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Floyd swam circles around him.

“Azul? Why are you on edge? Is it because Little Shrimpy’s here?” Floyd teased.

“Azul, I highly doubt Little Pearl cares about such trivial things.” Jade hummed, pressing a hand against your lower back and pushing you the slightest bit forward.

Azul froze on the spot, finally taking the time to look at your expression. There was no disgust, no amusement, no fear. There was just awe and curiosity. He swallowed thickly, feeling like a specimen on an examination table. You slowly swam forward, reaching out slowly, giving him time to pull away. He slammed his eyes shut but didn’t move, feeling your hand slide down one of his tentacles. You hummed as your other hand cupped one of them, flipping it upwards to reveal the suction cups. Azul cracked his eyes open just a bit to see you staring down at his chubby hideous revolting body with such much adoration that it made his heart jump into his throat. He couldn’t breathe.

“You’re really pretty, Azul.” you murmured, pulling the tentacle closer and letting it wrap around your hand, its actions shaky and slow, “You’re gorgeous like this.”

“See? What did I tell ya? Little Shrimpy doesn’t care.” Floyd laughed, poking Azul at the base of his tentacles.

“I’m not so sure about that, Floyd. They seem to care quite a bit.” Jade chuckled.

Another black tentacle wrapped itself around your waist as his purple tinted skin turned pink. He refused to meet your gaze as you accepted his touch without a bit of repulsion, your eyes affectionate and happy as if asking him to keep going. He yanked himself away before he could pull you into his chest and hug you for hours.

“Come swim with us, Azul!” Floyd called, snapping at him with his teeth as he giggled, “You can’t hog Shrimpy all day! That’s not faaair!”

“Floyd is right, you know. You should thank him for going to get you in the first place. That was very generous of him.” Jade hummed.

“I was here the whole time.” Azul mumbled, and you shook your head at their antics.

“I’d like to make the most of this form while I’m still in it. It’s been fun so far!” you bounced a bit in the water, curling your tail in and out.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd giggled, his expression immediately shifting to annoyance when he processed what you meant, “Ehh? What do ya mean? We’re going to have you over like this again, Shrimpy. You’re not getting away that easily.”

“Indeed.” Jade began circling you, a sinister look on his face, “You’re such a small little morsel, it would be the same if we didn’t have a chance to catch you.”

A shiver shot down your spine as Floyd followed his twin’s example, the both of them circling you menacingly as Azul stared disappointingly at them.

“If you two keep freaking them out, they’ll never come back again.” he pointed out, tugging you closer by the tail, “Don’t scare the poor angelfish. ”

“It’s just a little fuuun.” Floyd giggled, brightening up at the thought of forcing you over again, “Come on Shrimpy, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Sketchy undertones aside, I agree. I think it’d be nice to try this out again, even just swimming in my human form. It’s like stress relief.” you mused.

“Professor Crewel should be working on a cure already. We best make haste if we’re to enjoy you to the fullest.” Jade smiled his close-eyed smile, “Little Pearl, if you will.”

He gestured to the coral around you as Floyd’s yellow eye gleamed mischievous. When Jade opened his eyes, you noticed his yellow eye was glowing too.

“You may hide, and we will seek you out.” he chuckled, tilting his head slightly, “Wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“Oh yes, Shrimpy! It’ll be so fun. We’ll try to take a bite out of you.” Floyd laughed.

Azul shook his head exasperatedly, holding out a hand to you.

“If you do not wish to join their game of cat and mouse, I can show you around the deeper ends of the pool.” he murmured, “I’m sure you would enjoy the secret’s I’ve stashed away.”

You looked between the three, contemplating which to try first. Well, what’ll it be, dear Prefect?

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