Leave comments guys, let me know if I should continue with this or maybe not!
LOVE YOU WITH MY EYES CLOSED
Thomas Shelby x Reader
Part one Part two Part three
Summary: At a young age Y/N was given away for marriage, years later the dust began to settle and her life caught a rhythm she stopped fighting. Is Tommy, the man she once knew too well, ready to play along and let her go once again?
Word count: 2.9k
Warnings: depression, heartache, mental and physical abuse
A/N: Slow introduction, next chapter will pick up on pace. Enjoy
Coming back to Birmingham ignited more mixed feelings than Y/N expected it ever would. Pushing through the difficult changes back in the day caused her to stomach so much pain and.. distress at the inability to make her own choices. She thought there was nothing in her to cause fear anymore.
A weird kind of fear it was, this time. Looking out the window as the train plummeted through the fields, shaking and groaning under the weight of people all heading to the city she couldn't shake off. Four years passed so quickly, in a pace she didn't understand when she looked back at the first months of constant struggle she endured. Leaving everything behind. Becoming nothing more than a tool to life of.. prosperity for her family.
She fought it for so long, back then. Much to her father's misunderstanding, her unbreakable spirit made everything so much more difficult.
Yet eventually everything must come to an end though, in a reality where her value was tightly connected with how pretty she was, and how aesthetically pleasing she looked, hanging on the arm of a man she barely knew.
It was much easier to ignore from the distance, but the closer she got to Birmingham, more wounds began reopening, hurting and itching despite her neutral expression and unmoving figure.
One of his hands rested on her thigh, the other one holding a newspaper. The lack of communication was nothing short of normal between them. After all, when nobody was around, they didn't have to pretend as much. Nickolas Winterbourne, a man coming from a life where nothing ever ran out, where pantries were never empty and clothes never dirty. He existed in a controlled environment snuggly clothed in money at every corner, shielding him from any difficulties life planned to throw his way - unaffected by the simple disdain of modern times they happened to live in.
For what it was worth, Y/N considered herself lucky. He was… polite, usually gentle which was way more than she could have ever asked for from people in his social class. His hands were smooth, untainted by physical labour that he never had to do. His disposition contradicted his father's, a man purely self-absorbed and cruel with one purpose – wealth.
Y/N was grateful for the person he was deep down, even though he was forcing her into situations they could avoid, yet rarely violating her physically or mentally.
Nickolas was… indifferent. His demeanour calm, collected and bordering on bored most of the time. His eyes looked at her with a never ending patience and neutrality she grew to appreciate, after watching the way many of his brothers treated their own wives. She was lucky.
The mindset she worked so hard to build, throwing away the values she dreamed of as a little girl, the warm dreams of having a loving marriage with several kids, conversations that would seem to go on forever sprinkled with tender kisses on the forehead and warm touches that would warm her up on cold nights. She exchanged those hopes for expensive dresses and a mansion much too big for any amount of wood to warm. There were continual expensive dinners and meaningless conversations with people she wouldn't care to see ever again with fake seemingly polite smiles. These people never stopped beckoning for their service, acting like the simple action of pouring themselves tea was too much to burden their minds with.
So she was grateful, playing along with the quick pace of life they had. Dressing up quickly, perfecting the empty smile she got used to wearing on a daily basis.
“Be grateful, because you could have had it much worse” she mentally repeated to herself.
A soft squeeze of his hand tore her out of her thoughts, his brown eyes watching her patiently. He witnessed the difficulties she struggled with back then. So her silence rang louder than ever.
”We will spend two days in Birmingham and be back on our way. Tomorrow is the day of the gala, and the day after you will spend on your own matters.” He spoke quietly, reading the troubling emotions in her eyes. He always saw through the mask of neutrality he taught her how to wear like her second skin: a mutual understanding.
Her eyes slowly followed along the lines of his face, finally settling on holding eye contact. Slowly nodding, she covered his hand with her own before forcing out a small smile.
”Thank you” She responded, straightening her back before the train started slowing down before coming to a full stop.
Patting her thigh for the last time, he pulled away.
”Come on. It's time to go”
~~
After getting out of the train, Y/N watched how after stepping out her boots immediately covered in mud.
Some things never changed, she thought with a smile as the scent of smoke filled her nostrils.
”Christ” Nickolas muttered, his face twisting in disgust. Birmingham was nothing like the London they were used to, first expression of the city obnoxiously underwhelming for Winterbourne.
Standing by the road sign they waited for a moment before the designated car pulled up, halting by their feet as the driver opened the door, offering to help in packing the luggage.
Y/N seemed distraught, looking around as she immediately recognized the streets despite small differences and the fact she didn't leave even remotely close back then. A city centre it was, fair distance from Small Heath. A place she used to call home.
”Come on, get in the car” Nickolas whispered, noticing her distracted gaze, grabbing her arm lightly and nudging her towards the vehicle, bringing her out of memories thick like smoke. Looking at him she nodded, obediently getting inside before the car took them to the hotel.
One she had never been in before. This whole situation felt suffocating in ways so weird, she was barely able to look him in the eyes. Even as they moved to the building, getting all the formalities done she couldn't help but let her mind wander towards the ghosts of her past.
Loud, obnoxious laugh filled her head bringing a little smile on her red lips. One that definitely belonged to John, his eyes glimmering with mischief like most of the time. Through the eyes of imagination she saw Ada's long, dark hair she constantly complained about, sighing dramatically in a way that never ceased to make Y/N roll her eyes. Suffering from success, she used to call it, teasing her friend with whom she grew up so close.
A sound came to her ears as lift brought them to the right level, she moved seemingly on an autopilot when her husband fumbled with keys, looking for the right one.
As the door swung open she let out a silent sigh as she remembered. The memory she worked on suppressing so long caught up randomly, big, blue eyes surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes. Colour so dynamic, swiftly changing with the feeling simmering beneath his tough exterior, yet always so bright and clear when he looked at her. She felt like she saw him for the first time, despite it being nothing but her exterior shell shattering at the unwanted memories flooding back in.
Suddenly, she felt out of breath and barely an hour after checking into the hotel, she was in bed facing away from Nickolas. The wall she put up between them nearing the height of one he tried to shatter after getting to know the girl. She seemed so small as she lay on her side, every inch of her body hidden under covers. Hair scattered on the pillow, keeping his gaze away from her features.
They just got here, and he was already losing, Nickolas thought, before remembering the small detail that could shatter his reality if ease if looked into.
”Goodnight” He whispered, pressing a kiss onto her shoulder before turning away and giving her space as the lights went out.
It was only so long he could bend reality to his will, he thought, before closing his eyes and allowing Morpheus' embrace to swallow him up.
In contrast to him, Y/N didn't fall asleep once. The unknown anticipation swirled around in her stomach, pushing her even further away from the man sleeping by her side. Something was coming, and she knew it.
~~
”Do you really trust what you're saying?” Her voice came to his ears, quieter, less confident than usually she'd speak to him.
Leaning forward on his arms, he let his head drop in defeat for a moment before lifting him up. Strong, unyielding gaze meeting her worried, slightly anxious eyes.
Her position in the family and in company made her learn how to deal with emotions on her own for years.. which was never an issue. Woman could only be so vulnerable after raising that many kids and protecting them from the disgusting reality with her fragile hands and soul on her shoulder. But she managed.
So the rare vulnerability she displayed that evening, looking in her nephew's eyes was nothing short of special. The string of responsibility connecting them in ways none of his siblings would understand.
Staring blankly for a moment, he ended up nodding.
”I know, Polly.” He spoke up, his voice heavy with exhaustion and the fear he tried to bury somewhere between his ribs, to never be seen again. But it was there, alive as ever, making his heart thump in an unnatural rhythm. Reminding him of one of survival. Desperate attempts to stick to life even when the dirty earth in the tunnels tried to swallow him alive.
”You need to trust me when I say things will go back to normal. I waited for long enough.” His voice came out sharper than he'd like it to. Blue eyes soothing the damage his voice has done and Polly understood.
Being a witness to the struggles he faced on daily, responsibilities piling on him like layers of clothing, giving no space to grieve the loss of someone who was never supposed to be gone.
…and so he didn't. Instead building an empire on his bitterness and pain, trusting that… whatever was up there would provide if it was meant to be.
That day for once in his life Thomas wanted to pray.
~~
“You need to pick up your pace, Y/N. We can't afford to be late to such an event.” Nickolas snapped, his usually calm and collected demeanour dishevelled with stress as he watched time ticking away on his watch.
She didn't sleep, almost at all. Putting on the mask was more difficult than usual, having to layer the makeup on her tired face, exhausted eyes. The years of struggles managed to catch up in the nine hours she spent on trying to fall asleep. Dreamless nights and loveless days connected with the anticipation in her stomach making it impossible to close her eyes.
”What will they think of us if we show up late, Y/N?” He shot once again watching her movements with his chin higher than he usually carried.
In moments of distress Y/N saw his father in him, usually perfectly hidden away lack of spine showing through the wounds of what the perfect life did to him. Minor inconvenience making him furious.
”Put on your jacket and smoke a cigarette, Nickolas. By the time you're done I will be waiting.” She responded in a neutral way, already taught to not feed into his bitterness in such situations. Not because he was right, but rather to avoid making him cranky as he would surely ruin her already difficult evening.
Watching her with contempt for a moment, he let out a heavy breath before stepping away.
”Five minutes or you will walk there. I'm not going to be late because of your irresponsibility.” His voice faded with the distance growing between them.
Y/N sighed looking at her reflection.
A man that was never supposed to be a husband.
All eyes were on them as soon as they arrived. Y/N smiled, nodding along to the people she saw for the first time as they spoke to Nickolas. She was to not speak unless spoken to, Mr. Winterbourne taught her four years ago. Smile, look pretty and watch your husband. Be attentive and elegant at all times.
Entering the event took them about fifteen minutes with all the pleasantries Nick kept giving away to his associates. Deep down she hated it. The constant need to pretend, not a single movement one of her own.
”Mr. Winterbourne!” A voice came from behind their back as they walked into the main room. An older man with jet-black hair approached quickly, his arm wrapped around the waist of his wife. Glancing at her, they exchanged a joyful look before standing right by Y/N. “Long time no see” His voice was low, but not threatening. Something about the tall and broad man was inviting, friendly.
”Indeed, it's been a long while.” Nick responded, straightening his back before greeting the older woman, getting a hold of her hand gently and kissing the temple. ”How is life treating you, Sir?” His tone mannered and calm, just like always whenever he was in a public eye. After getting a response, he began talking about the details of the gala before the woman suddenly interrupted him.
”...and who is this beautiful woman?” She spoke completely relaxed to which Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. If she interrupted her husband or any man he was currently talking to in such a manner, she'd get severely punished if not slapped at the spot. Nicholas raised his eyebrow but quickly put on a collected exterior again.
”This is my wife, Y/N” He introduced her, slightly embarrassed that he forgot to do so in the first place. What would they think of him? The older man reflected, kissing her temple with a smile and his wife took her hand in her own.
”Oh, I see” She said, looking at the ring on her finger. ”Absolutely beautiful, how about we get something to drink while men talk about the important matters?” She suggested light-heartedly, winking at her husband who chuckled, shaking his head before giving a simple nod.
”Great idea. I will find you in just a few moments, Precious.”
The way their interactions took place made Y/N truly shocked, she's never seen such behaviour among people in their class before. Were people of Birmingham different than them?
Waiting for his approval obediently Y/N only moved when he gave her a stern nod, clearly not pleased with his own performance, yet he would never admit it.
His behaviour was different this time, she could clearly see it. He was more emotional in the wrong way, every little detail making him visibly angry.
”I’m Meredith” The seemingly fourty year old woman stated, glancing at Y/N sideways. ”You seem to love these kind of events, don't you?” She joked, seeing the way Y/N’s smile dropped as soon as they turned away from their husbands. Internally she panicked hearing the elegant woman's remark, her eyes widening with fear. ”Oh, no worries. We're on the same page… besides. They serve really good drinks, so soon enough it will be bearable.” The tone of her voice was light and amusing as she gave Y/N a little shove. Her demeanor was relaxed and open, matching her husband's which was… refreshing.
”Better get to it then” She mustered a smile in response.
To be fair, time did start passing faster as they settled by the table, slowly sipping on tasteful drinks and talking in a way that allowed Y/N feel much less comfortable than she was at first. A breath of fresh air.
”We’re local. My husband, Christopher, is the owner of several businesses passed down through the family. That's how he knows Winterbournes.” She explained eventually before leaning in closer. ”He doesn't get along well with your father in law. Tradition and peace are the only things keeping them tied together.”
Y/N listened carefully, appreciating that after a couple drinks Meredith's tongue got a bit loose. Usually she'd never hear a single detail about her husband's business or family. She wasn't family by blood, so her access to information was very restricted.
Getting lost in her thoughts again she zoned out for a second before Nickolas’ voice came to her ear from close proximity.
”This is my wife, Y/N Winterbourne.” He introduced her and it took a second to stand up, smooth out her dress before her eyes met the guests.
…and just for a second, her heart stopped, mouth slightly parting as she met the blue gaze she dreamed of for so many years.
”May we dance, Mrs. Winterbourne?” Thomas Shelby asked, standing side to side with her husband. Slightly shorter yet visibly towering over him.
For once she forgot her manners, not able to tear her eyes away from him as she gave a quick nod and without another word, he grabbed her hand pulling her towards the dance floor among other couples. Completely stiff and frozen, her vocal chords were not cooperating as she was on the verge of a panic attack.
His hands grabbed her own, setting them on his shoulders as he pulled her closer.
”Breathe” He said quietly in a husky tone as his scent almost made her faint.
I'm gonna sit my ass and write at least two stories today so...
tommy & lizzie + 🚬 peaky blinders — 4x03 created by steven knight
Summary: Jackson had one task, to protect her while her house wasn't a safe place anymore, not after her fiancé got them in trouble with the wrong people. How is it going to work out with her combativeness and Jackson's feisty approach? The story begins when things get slightly out of control.
Word count: 4.6k
A/N: There will be part two
Rushing to “my” room, I couldn't even sob properly. Even breathing was a struggle after the situation that took place just a mere hour ago. Not to mention the conversation that followed, and hurtful words from my fiancé.
The only person who was supposed to be always on my side.
The whole situation turned on me, and yet, he had absolutely no interest in listening to a word coming from my mouth. I could still hear Harry's raised voice, hushed by a quieter tone coming from Jackson as he said something that I couldn't really hear. Fury was filling me head to toe at the lack of understanding. At the whole fucking situation that Jackson, basically, put me in. Getting into bed, I hid my face in a pillow, finally able to sob quietly. Ringing silence followed by a sudden, dramatic slam of the front door.
“Don't cry” Low, husky voice echoed throughout the hall, as Jackson's steps grew closer to my room.
I didn't even have the strength to get up and push him off the bed after he decided to sit down next to me.
“He doesn't want me anymore, he won't marry me.” I said quietly, my head turning to look at his face. Resentment growing at the memory of every detail of the conversation with my fiancé.
“Harry doesn't think like that, he just… got carried away, yeah? Got a little angry.” Jackson was convinced, trying to make it all sound better, but he was clearly lacking skills on how to cheer someone up. My blood boiled.
“Angry?” I sat up abruptly. “I was the one who almost got sexually assaulted and he didn't even bother to hug me or take me home.” I growled, my eyes becoming teary once again.
He licked his lips out of habit, I noticed. I had made a pretty strong argument, so he thought for a moment.
After a long minute Jackson sighed deeply, his brows furrowed and eyes focused on the floor in front of him. Suddenly he took off his jacket and threw it on the dresser.
“I'm mad at you too.” I said, sniffling in the meantime and wiping my nose. “For leaving me, and it's not the first time. You were supposed to protect me.” My voice grew shaky as I spoke the truth. We both knew it was right.
Jackson looked at me without emotion. Then he looked down at his fingers.
“I had no choice.” He eventually said, straightening his back, running a hand through his thick hair.
“You could have told me you were going with your goblin girlfriend, then I wouldn't have gone.” My eyes locked onto his face, I could see the twitching of his eye. He was clearly uncomfortable, but so was I and it was all his fault anyway. “Do you know how I felt when you just followed after her, and left me alone?” My tone grew sharper, accusatory.
“I'm not proud of what I did.” He admitted, clearing his throat beforehand. Jackson's body heat was slightly distracting. The warmth from him was highly appreciated, even if I wouldn't admit it. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
"--and that's fine, I hate you with all my heart." My lower lip trembled. “I wanted to be friends with you, I tried to make our time more pleasant, I even fed you when your girlfriend simply refused to do so, and you know what? I've learned that it's better to be a cold bitch or you'll get your ass kicked like I did. Like I always do.” After my words, silence filled the room for a longer moment. I thought that maybe they landed right, but then he spoke up again.
“That's not true, you don't hate me.” Jackson stated. Like he was stating something obvious, looking at me emotionlessly. I got even more angry that THAT was the only thing he caught.
“I do hate you,” I growled, grabbing him by the collar. Jackson was clearly surprised, and I clenched my jaw. “I wish you would suffer like I did.”
It was the first time in my life that I was this close to him. He looked down at me without breaking eye contact.
“You didn't even admit to him that it was all your fault.” I shook my head with anger, fingers tightening around the material.
“If I did, he would have immediately packed and taken you back to England.” His voice was hoarse, blue steely eyes still locked on my face, not daring to create more distance between us.
“Good.” I perked up. “That's what I would have wanted.”
“But I wouldn’t. I don't.” He said out of the blue.
To add to my confusion, Jackson's hands landed on my ass, pulling me towards him. My pelvis touched his chest and I didn't know what was so irrationally fucked up about that, that I couldn't get a word out...or push him away, for that matter. I just stared with wide eyes at his moving lips.
“I am aware that it's all my fault and I really don't know how to repay you. I regret it.” His voice was confident, eyes empty and hands firm on my body. My breath quickened and I had no idea what to make out of it.
“Grabbing my ass is not the best move.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm and brows furrowed in surprise before he spoke up again, shutting me up.
“You like it, I can see it in your eyes.”
…and then something very important occurred to me. At first I ignored it because I thought every woman was prone to it, but no. I pulled myself out of his grip and sat down next to him.
“Harry was right, I really do deserve to be called a whore.” I chuckled, shaking my head lightly.
Jackson’s fingers only dug deeper into my hips as he cleared his throat.
“I’d tell you something, but wouldn't want to spoil your wedding plans.” He responded with a thin layer of mockery, looking at me without blinking even.
“I know about his fleeting affair with his secretary.” I cut him off, sighing deeply. “It was a long time ago, I forgave him.” Shame burnt in my face as I said it out loud, hearing how stupidly it sounded.
Jackson hummed, just nodded and took a deeper breath.
“I assume you didn't have any,”
“Exactly.” I looked at him with regret. “So what if I sometimes wear a dress that's too short and nothing else? I'll be a whore anyway, Harry said that himself.”
He put his arm around me completely by surprise. I raised my eyebrows at him, taking advantage of the fact that I had the material of his shirt close to my face. Without missing a beat, I pressed my nose against it.
“Did you just rub yourself in my shirt?” His voice echoed throughout the room suddenly. Tone annoyed, pierced with amusement. My head tilted up, eyes locking with his own.
“I'm a mess and I could really beat you up if you start complaining about my snot on your shirt.” I spoke in a quiet yet threatening voice, which made Jackson shake his head lightly.
“It's disgusting and unhygienic.”
Couldn't care less, I thought before moving away slowly. Suddenly I gasped, swinging my legs. I was looking at the color of my nails when something came to mind. It just came to me out of the blue, I knew that if I didn't ask him now, I never would.
Turning around I moved closer, facing him. Jackson's brows were raised at my sudden body language change, but my mind was set on getting answers.
“I'll ask you straight out, have you ever spied on me? Like.. in the bathroom?” My cheeks turned bright red as words started slipping off my tongue.
And it was such a casual question, I thought he would immediately deny it and get it over with, but he didn't say anything for too long. I looked at him instinctively to see his smile.
“I always do.”
I blinked a couple times, his words not really registering in my head. Was he mocking?
“Don't make fun of me, I really saw you” I huffed with annoyance. Jackson was unfazed, still smiling and looking me in the eyes carelessly.
“Because I was actually standing there.”
I took a deep breath not believing him. He was lying like always, I knew him... or at least I thought so.
“You are a fucking prude, you certainly wouldn't do something that your lady wouldn't like.” My voice was full of mockery and amusement, but my brain was still in shock at his behaviour and words.
Jackson slowly began to unbutton his shirt. He didn't look at me, as if I wasn't even there.
“What are you doing?” I muttered as he removed it completely.
“When you undress in front of me, you don't make a problem out of it.” Jackson replied, not looking at me as he casually started stripping like it was an everyday thing. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Nobody said I was making an issue out of it.” Doing my best for my voice to come out unfazed, I couldn't help the low, hoarse edge to it.
“So you won't be offended if I take off my pants as well?”
I scratched the back of my neck at his.. question.
“If you're going to do this.” I sighed, pointing at the standing figure, now almost naked. “What's your point in doing this anyway?”
Jackson shrugged. His wider, athletic, firm body now on display. I did my best to keep my eyes on an appropriate level.
“I'm hot.”
I nodded, glaring at him. He sat down next to me and loosened his boxers at the crotch. It was the second time I noticed it, but I didn't look into it.
“You know.” I paused for a moment, thinking. “I’m hot too.”
I didn't know what was driving me when I simply took off my blouse. I was cold, but I was doing something that completely contradicted my reason. Then I took a seat on the left side of the bed and burrowed under the blanket.
“I think you should go now.” I murmured from beneath the cover. I could hear him clearing his throat as Jackson's blue eyes followed every single move of my body.
“Why?”
“Because it's inappropriate.”
He didn't move quickly. It took me a moment to see his massive back as he headed for the exit.
“Good night." he said before closing the door behind him.
Good night, what's wrong with him?
~~~
“Do you think pretending to be contrite will get his attention? Don't be ridiculous, I'll destroy you if you do something I don't like.”
“Jackson” I growled, turning the screen brighter so he could see. He looked at me from the kitchen “I want you to see something.”
I shoved my phone under his nose. He frowned as he read the first message I got when I got home from the hospital, and the second one this morning. Reading it, Jack sighed.
“I'll talk to her” Turning around he went back to making himself food. I sat there, dumbfounded and annoyed with his lack of reaction. After several weeks spent together he could be a little more empathetic.
“And that's it? You won't even react appropriately?”
Swiftly turning around once again, he crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow.
“How am I supposed to react?” The tone of his voice mocking more than anything else. I took a deep breath, smiling wryly at him.
“You could at least say she's a bitch and you'll deal with her.”
He looked at me, irritated.
“She's my girlfriend, it would probably be inappropriate.” I snorted, and shot right back, unable to hold back.
“But taking your pants off next to me wasn't?”
Jackson tensed so I could see it landed well, but he chose to ignore me, making me sigh.
“Don't blame me for the fact that your wedding plans are slowly disappearing.” Came from his lips suddenly.
I felt a lump in my throat.
“They are not. I called Harry today.” My voice was weaker than a couple seconds ago, but I spoke up with confidence. Jackson suddenly snorted, throwing the dirty fork into the sink and turning to face me as he leaned on the counter.
“How so?” I raised my eyebrows at the.. weird tone of voice he had asking this question. Accusatory almost.
I looked down, putting my phone in my pocket.
“His mother answered, and then—” I paused for a moment, wondering if I really wanted to tell him this. “—it occurred to me that I might want to postpone the wedding. I regretted getting that fucking phone back.”
He ran a hand through his hair before folding his arms across his chest.
“This is probably a matter between you and Harry, I shouldn't get involved.”
I looked him in the eyes for a second, nodding lightly.
*Yeah, you're right.” I shook my head. “I just wanted to tell you to do something about this fucking message and I'm also worried about whether the contract was signed. Was it?”
“Yes, I quickly signed it that evening.” He replied with an unreadable expression. I thought for a moment, his words ringing in my head. Quickly.
“Are you aware that you may have agreed to something inappropriate? Have you read it?” I asked quietly, knowing how silly it sounded to him as he's probably done thousands of such deals before. To my surprise, he shook his head.
“Of course not. You know, I'm a human and I actually felt sorry for you.” he pouted. “That's why I came here in the first place. To check on you.”
I had no idea whether his words were true, but the lighthearted approach was annoying nevertheless.
“I don't need you to feel sorry for me. As you can see I'm doing fine.” I snapped back, straightening my back and narrowing my eyes at him.
I leaned back in the chair, not knowing why I was still standing there. I had planned to leave him, but I wanted him to make me food as well, but obviously, he wouldn't agree so I didn't even bother asking. Although it didn't look like it would happen, he only put scrambled eggs on one plate.
“Would you like to go out today?” Jackson asked suddenly in a normal, genuine voice as he sat down in his seat, grabbing the cutlery. I licked my lips, feeling hungry.
“I'm not in the mood.” I murmured back, my eyes fixated on his breakfast.
“I was thinking about a… club, actually. I need to drink.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise as I took a clean fork out of the set and sat down next to him.
“You, my dear? Aren't you too good for a club and drinking?” I asked with a grin, getting a bite of his food.
He looked at me strangely as I simply scooped up a piece of egg and popped it into my mouth.
“Um, from now on, you make breakfast.” I muttered with a mouthful of his scrambled eggs. Looking at me, he sighed.
“You should have told me earlier, I would have cooked a double portion.” I chuckled.
“You have plenty of it, we'll both get full, for sure.” I waved my hand as I started eating, reaching for the rye bread. Rippner didn't make any movement at first, but later - seeing my full mouth - he slowly started eating. And I even shared the bread with him, he took a slice from me quite distrustfully, which made me roll my eyes.
Well, that was progress. We ate from one plate, two weeks ago he would have thrown me down the stairs for that. “Actually” I started, leaning against the back of the chair, stroking my round belly. “I could go with you. Unless your goblin steps in again, then I promise you that I'll cut off your balls and you'll never fuck again.”
“She's not supposed to know anything about it,” He stood up, carrying the dirty plate away. I gasped dramatically.
“Are you going to spite her again? What if she doesn't let you eat like the last time?” Jackson rolled his eyes at my words, taking a gulp of water from the glass.
“I came to the conclusion that I also need something.. fresher.”
My eyes widened at the sound of his words. Fresher? What the fuck could it mean coming from HIS mouth?
“What do you mean?” I frowned. Jack shrugged with a barely visible grin, raising his eyebrows.
“I've known her all my life, I don't know what it's like to have another girl.”
I exhaled with relief.
“You finally saw the light.” I sighed, raising my hands high, towards the heavens. “I'm proud of you.” My words were nothing but mockery and jokes, but Jackson just rolled his eyes.
Once again I noticed him loosening his pants at the crotch and mumbling something to me as he went away. I just shrugged wondering what I was going to wear to the club.
When I got ready, I wondered if I was doing the right thing by going there. Last night, I was almost assaulted but I tried not to think about it, and… trust him again this one time, as I left the apartment with Rippner. We arrived a few minutes later but not without my groaning again because of the loud music. After a few drinks, Jack clearly relaxed, and after a second order, I managed to drag him out onto the dance floor. He was a little tipsy, I was a little more, but we didn't spare each other insults when I'd accidentally step on his polished shoes.
It was after two AM when we decided to finally leave. A taxi took us to the apartment building, and then we went to the apartment.
“Damn heels, my feet hurt, do yours too?” I asked, doing my best to stay upright.
“Mhm” he mumbled back, not looking at me. I grimaced as I walked straight after Jackson across the tiles. I grabbed the back of his shirt as he climbed the stairs.
“Will you carry me?”
“No” I groaned with despair.
“You were supposed to say ‘mhm”
He didn't expect me to jump clumsily on his back, almost hitting my head against the wall. Luckily Jackson caught me just in time and, sighing heavily, carried me to the bedroom. I sprawled on the bed, mumbling strangely as my bones began to creak.
Only after a second I realised that Jackson was still standing in the doorway. Swaying on his feet slightly, he breathed deeply while looking at me.
“Don't puke in my room” I warned with a chuckle, but he didn't respond. The silence caused me to glance at him, and breath got stuck in my throat.
“Mhm” he murmured, taking his shirt off slowly. Jackson's eyes were half lidded, and I could see him looking.
“What are you doing? You're hot again?”
My words hung in the air that thickened so much, I could barely breathe. His drunken gaze was even more intense than usual. Jackson tilted his head to the side, grazing over my body.
“No,” he replied, taking a step forward. “Just calculating how much longer I can stand not fucking you.”
Breathless gasp pushed past my lips at his words, as I slowly sat up higher, suddenly feeling naked under his predatory gaze. I didn't even respond, just shaking my head slowly as our eyes locked onto each other. I slowly got on my shaky legs, taking a step back.
“We can't, Jack” I repeated, even though my face was already burning hot. I didn't know whether I loved, or hated the way he became now. So… intense. I was losing my mind.
“A-and Harry…” As soon as I started, I heard a huff coming from him before he pushed me against a wall.
His eyes were dark with anger, lust and the dark, heavy desire he felt at the moment. Without missing a beat he took a step forward, pushing my body at the wall as his lips crushed mine. Jackson's hands found their way to my shoulders, pressing harder against the hard surface as his tongue pushed past my lips, finding my own. I didn't get a chance to even think for a moment before kissing him back, hands gripping onto his muscular shoulders, movements so shaky and frantic that I almost couldn't breathe.
”I don't want to hear it.” Jackson breathed out as we parted for a moment, looking deep into his eyes I could see a reflection of my own. Dark, full of lust and need. “You want it, and I want it. So we'll have it.” He groaned, leaning down and biting on my neck hard, making me groan out loud. He gladly took the opportunity, lifting me up, and pushed me back onto the bed.
“You don't even love him.” He purred into my ear, rough hands travelling down my body, touching every inch of my hot skin before I could even process him being so close.
“Shut up” I hissed back, my nails digging deeper into his shoulder to cause some pain.
His hot, firm body pressing against my own with full weight, pushing further into the soft bed. I couldn't help but let out a sigh, feeling it, hands falling off his shoulders and spreading flat on the warm surface, attempting to find some release in the fire smouldering beneath my skin. His eyes were just as sharp from a little distance, more.. dangerous. Cutting into the skin, leaving open wounds that would keep bleeding unless he'd decide to smooth them out with his rough palms.
Jackson pulled my leathery pants down, panties ending up as a piece of material on the floor impossible to wear in the state they were in. Ripped to pieces.
”You don't look at him like that” His voice coming much lower, booming right into my ear, accompanied by the sound of his pants shuffling, zipper coming undone. Blood in my ears was so loud, I almost couldn't hear my own breath. It felt like an out of body experience.
My left hand moved into his hair again, tugging on the strands and making him lean down even more. His masculine, heavy scent was all I felt, surrounding my senses forcefully and relentlessly..
”You’re ruining everything. You.. you don't even know.” I stuttered out, breathing heavily, struggling to stay as he started leaving wet kisses on my skin. His possessive hands grabbing and groping every piece of skin he could get a hold of. A low chuckle followed by a laugh left his lips.
”Shhhhh” He cooed, while one of his hands lined up his hard, throbbing manhood with my entrance. His red tip rubbing against the wet folds, making me cringe from the pleasure I felt. ”That's what you need, isn't it? Should have come to me sooner.” Jack chuckled, his hips pushing forward with a sudden thrust, filling me up to the brim.
”Fuck!” I yelled out in a muffled voice. The fullness ripping a cry out of my throat. As soon as he started moving, my brain felt foggy. The way his girthy cock stretched me wide, moving back and forth and grinding at all the right spots made me feel vulnerable and unable to fight him longer. My head fell back onto his shoulder, little whimpers and cries leaving my mouth as my hands kept holding onto his hair and neck.
”That's a good girl. Be a good girl for me.” Jack whispered with a grin, the pace of his thrusts becoming more animalistic with each passing second.
”Jackson please!” I whimpered as another thrust went right up to my cervix, the big tip of his cock slamming against it. The pain and pleasure mixing into a foreign combination.. one too addicting to let go. Practically hammering the tip of his cock into my wet, warm heat was overwhelming. Not a single thought going through my head. Jackson's hands groping and squeezing every inch of my body he could reach, his lips and tongue licking on the small, bleeding wound he created on the side of my neck, Bruising and soothing at the same time, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. Complete opposite of how rough he was.
One of his hands sneaked down, skilfully squeezing my breasts in the meantime, heading down the smooth skin until he'd reach my mound. Wet pussy getting pierced with every thrust, and his fingers pressed onto my clit indelicately, rubbing circles at a brutal pace.
”Come for me.” His demanding voice filled my ears, followed by the sensation of his tongue driving me crazy, licking and marking the skin on my neck. Jackson's hair fell forward a little, brushing against my sensitive skin with every thrust while he held my body firmly against the wall, preventing my legs from giving out. Subconsciously my shaky hands clamped on his neck, long nails digging into the skin on his throat and ripping a loud moan out of his mouth while his cock throbbed viciously inside me. ”Oh my god!” I groaned in a shaky voice, when the sound of his moan pushed me over the edge. The sudden orgasm that I single handedly has never been able to achieve with other men went through my body like lightning. Shocking every cell and paralysing me completely for a good moment but Jackson kept overstimulating me further, thrusting relentlessly into my pussy even though it was squeezing him like a vice. Tears started going down my face at the impossibly painful and pleasurable sensation and he watched, looking into my eyes with a barely visible grin. Not letting go and holding tight for several moments before I went completely brainless, on the mercy of him and his big cock stretching me so well.
”That's it” Jackson hissed, quickly pulling out and grabbing a fist of my hair, I hissed as my scalp burned when he pushed me down on my knees suddenly. His cock just centimetres away from my lips while his face twisted into strong pleasure, blue eyes falling shut while Jack kept stroking his dick at a crazy pace. After a couple seconds finally, thick ropes of cum shot out from his tip, landing on my face. His facial expression and the way he stroked himself looked like a scene from the best porno, and I couldn't help but moan as his essence hit my skin. My jaw just fell slack open. Catching some of his cum I wasn't thinking, mind still foggy after this heated and sudden encounter.
He kept pumping until there was nothing coming out anymore. My face covered, eyes staring blank on his face. Jackson sighed deeply, letting go of his still hard manhood, using his own shirt as a towel before running a hand through his hair. Crouching down in front of me he pushed a stray lock of hair away from my face before grabbing my jaw.
“Much better. So pretty.” He purred, petting my red cheek for a moment before pulling me up on my feet, and back into bed, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Oh my god” I eventually said, after the realisation settled and my brain started working. Aching between my legs present like never before.
“Quiet, woman. Some people want to sleep” He groaned with annoyance, and I couldn't believe he was the same man who just railed me into oblivion.
TASTE OF SHAME
Thomas Shelby x Reader
Part one Part two
Summary: You can't escape, and the line between his manipulation and your own thoughts begins to disappear.
Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence
A/N: COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE!
After the events of that one particularly dark evening, Y/N shut off. She didn't come out to see Ada when the young woman would visit, not for a while. Spending most days in her room, sometimes even not reacting when one of the maids would come to remind her of Mr. Shelby's wish to see her at five PM.
Sometimes she didn't show up, and he let her.
”She's a teenager, Ada. What am I supposed to tell you, eh?” He spoke one day, finally answering the questions she had for him ever since Y/N's behaviour changed. His eyes remaining at the contract in his hands, agreement from Churchill himself. A small grin danced on his lips, tugging on one of the corners of his mouth. ”Don't you remember how it is as a young girl, eh? Always a bloody handful,” He snorted, lightly, letting go of the piece of paper as his eyes finally met his sister's. Cold and calculating, playing chess with every word, just the way he always did since their lives changed.
Ever since he unapologetically took the whole of Birmingham, and greedily reached out for the rest of Britain.
Unapologetic, that's the word she'd use to describe him.
Letting out a sigh, Ada shook her head lightly, crossing her arms across her chest as she stared through the big window.
”You didn't hurt her, did you?” Her voice came out almost tired, knowing the person Thomas Shelby became, Ada was... Almost expecting it. Dealing with the effects of his violence and decisions day to day.
Thomas' blue eyes slowly raised to her own, but she didn't look at him, still peacefully looking out the window.
With parted lips, he breathed out a quiet snarl.
”Am I a monster, Ada?” The voice so full of mockery, she should have felt disrespected, but worry for the girl was stronger.
”You want to be, Tommy”
~~
Jabbing at dinner with a fork, Y/N wrestled with her thoughts back and forth. She knew she couldn't escape, her absence would bring an inevitable danger onto her family, and despite the hatred she felt towards them ever since... Her father sold her, she couldn't bring herself to not care.
After all, where would she go? Y/N had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.
His horrible, mocking chuckle rang in her ears loudly, making her wince as she heard steps behind. His expensive leather shoes clicked against the floor, and Y/N recognized his heavy steps.
The silence in the room was suddenly heavy, suffocating. She didn't dare to move, almost freezing under his gaze.
Her fear was palpable, and Thomas could easily sense it in the air. Her flowery scent came to his nostrils immediately when he stood behind the counter. Making coffee, as a cigarette hung from his lips. His blue eyes glanced towards her frame, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth at her posture. Admittedly, he didn't know why her fear was so... Joyful to him. So attractive and addicting, like a sweet treat. His presence alone was enough to make her shiver, and he'd always take on every occasion to torment her.
Y/N expected it, almost like she got used to it. Holding her breath when he moved, steps growing closer before the cold air hit the skin on her neck. She waited, for something, anything. Pain, shame or whatever he would give her. That's what he always did.
So when he wordlessly passed by, all Y/N felt was a confusion.
The expected relief didn't come, and the cold temperature of the room suddenly seemed to swallow her whole as she let out a breath.
He ignored her, simply, walking through the doorway and disappearing into the corridor.
Leaving her breathing slowly, as a little smile appeared on her lips.
Maybe that was it.
The rest of the day passed calmly, without any events and Y/N spent some time entertaining little Charlie, doodling away in her notebook and drawing all the animals she could think of to make the little boy happy. Only when he fell asleep, drained from being awake that long, she sighed, letting one of the maids take him to bed as she walked back to her own room.
Glancing up, she noticed the beautiful view from her window. Something so obvious, yet not important enough to ever catch her gaze before. Now she felt a little peaceful, while he wasn't home.
Pulling out her drawing supplies, she set her notebook on the windowsill, taking her time to draw the sight, the beautiful trees bending under heavy wind. Rays of the sun penetrate between branches and hitting the window, accompanying the silence in her room well enough that the environment seemed peaceful. Calm. Safe.
Unknowingly, Y/N began softly humming under her breath, feeling a glimmer of hope for a better future still smoldering somewhere between her ribs.
He came back late, later than usual. Tommy's steps echo throughout the almost empty house, getting the attention of staff but nobody else.
”Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” One of the maids said, quietly, getting a quick nod out of him as he climbed the stairs, stopping midway.
”Where is she?” His voice held the usual complete seriousness, not holding the amount of mockery he seemed to have only for her. The middle-aged maid, shifted her weight from one leg to the other before answering.
”Miss Y/L/N informed Frances she'd go visit her horse in the stables.” Her voice was quiet, unsure.
Nodding again, Thomas moved forward before clearing his throat and stopping, just for a second.
”It's my horse. Everything here is mine.” His sharp tone cut through the air while maintaining the huskiness and not disturbing the silence of the house for too long. ”When she comes back, she is going to come to my office.” He liked it. The intimidation in the air, present wherever he goes.
”Yes, Mr. Shelby.”
That day felt more special than most, much longer as if it held more than twenty four hours in it. After leaving the house and making her way to the stables, Y/N stopped checking her watch, letting the activity engulf her completely once she saw the precious creature she missed so dearly. Normally, Y/N would be too scared to come here without asking for permission first, and she didn't seek any reasons to come to Mr. Shelby. Not really.
Walking through the wooden building, she carefully eyed each of the horses there, eyes widening as she saw the biggest one. A massive, black horse with eyes that had the look to them, which made her back off. The madness in this horse's eyes reminded her of the blue ones she feared so badly.
Yet all the worries seemed to disappear as her gaze met the calm, brown eyes of her horse...
Before she knew it, Y/N walked back through the field, rushing towards Arrow house, sun barely up in the sky still. Time passed between her fingers so fast when she was having fun, but it's been so long she almost forgot how it feels. The beautiful black mane on a completely white Stallion took at least an hour to braid, but Y/N loved the process. She was taking care of him ever since he was a foal.
Taking him out on the free field and getting to ride him again, despite having to do it bareback felt wonderful. Felt like the freedom Y/N so desperately yearned for.
As the canter turned into a full on gallop, a bright smile appeared on her face, as her hair blew on the wind. The scent of nature, wilderness and sharp wind which turned her cheeks bright red made the experience almost magical, so she lost track of time. There was no reason to rush home either, since Mr. Shelby was away.
Letting out a tired sigh, Y/N's smile remained plastered onto her face until she noticed the long, black coat on the rack.
Which was a sign that he was home
Swallowing the lump which suddenly appeared in her throat, Y/N calmed herself down mentally before slowly turning towards the stairs and step by step climbing them, extending the whole process just to make as little noise as possible.
Her feet felt a little numb from horse riding, so when she reached the top of the stairs, one wooden plank bent under her weight, creaking slightly.
When no sound followed, Y/N let out a sigh, walking through the corridor and heading to her room when suddenly Frances opened her bedroom door on the other end of the hall.
”Miss Y/L/N” She spoke up, wearing her modest bathrobe and nightgown, ”Mr. Shelby asked me to tell you to come to his office when you get back.” She instructed quietly, as not to disturb the rest of the staff which was probably sleeping. The night came around, and the sky was almost completely pitch black. An old, wooden clock on the wall struck eleven PM.
Y/N's breath hitched, realizing she didn't manage to get out of coming eye to eye with him. Not today. Seeing the questions in her eyes, Frances, let out a quiet breath as well.
”He came back around three hours ago” The older woman added, replying to the silent question which never got asked. Not out loud.
”Thank you, Frances” She smiled lightly, before disappearing behind her bedroom door again, leaving Y/N standing on the corridor completely on her own.
She stood there, frozen for a hot minute. Contemplating what to do, whether she should go and change her dirty clothes first, or maybe go see him as soon as possible. After all Mr. Shelby's anger was the last thing Y/N wanted upon herself, knowing how cruel he could be if he felt like it.
Weighing her options shivers ran down her spine at the risk, and so her shoulders slumped slightly when she made up her mind. Turning around and slowly making her way further through the corridor, the dark, wooden door growing closer with each small step.
Moving closer, Y/N narrowed her eyes noticing a small beam of light on the floor coming from his office. Small enough to not be noticeable if she didn't pay enough attention. Another step, and Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as barely audible sounds came to her ears. High pitched, muffled almost.
Another couple feet, and she stood right there, by the door with her eyes widening at the realisation of what was happening. The door to Mr. Shelby's office was unusually creaked open, through the crack she could see the interior of the room. Dim light making it all more difficult, as she heard feminine moans and whimpers coming from the inside, accompanied by shuffling of the heavy desk.
Her hand rested on the door knob as she moved closer, covering her mouth with one hand as she noticed the dark haired woman splayed on the mahogany desk, face down. One of Tommy's hands was gripping tightly onto her shoulder, pulling back with each move as the other covered the woman's mouth, keeping her as quiet as possible. Muffled sounds kept coming out of her mouth as he kept thrusting inside her from behind, not caring about whether someone heard. Her breasts were almost spilling from her blouse, and Mr. Shelby didn't even care to get her undressed first, cigarette hanging from his lips as he fucked into her hard and fast, chasing his own high. Y/N's face twisted in disgust as the other woman began moaning crude words, calling out his name like it was the only thing she knew.
Still covering her mouth, Y/N took a step back, letting go of the door knob as she let out a shaky breath.
She shouldn't have come home so late, Y/N thought. Better go before he finds out.
Turning around, she moved swiftly through the corridor, before quietly closing the door behind her back.
She panted like someone was chasing her, and only after several moments she moved away from the entrance, sitting on her bed and taking off the jacket she wore.
Taking deep breaths, Y/N tried to calm herself down.
Half an hour later, Y/N was still laying awake, her lamp turned on as she read a book, not knowing what else to do this late at night. She wouldn't dare go out, and risk stumbling upon him or his mistress.
The last thing she expected was to hear a knock on the door, this late at night. Furrowing her brows, Y/N put the book down on the covers, and before she could answer, the door opened.
Thomas walked into the room, slowly shutting it behind him. An unlit cigarette in his hand, and she took in his appearance. The four undone buttons on his shirt, messy hair and dark, unreadable gaze in his eyes.
Shivers appeared on the back of her neck, and she froze seeing him.
”Not sleeping, eh?” He asked, glancing quickly around her room as he lit his cigarette, before letting his gaze fall back on her. He noticed the way she pulled the covers higher, covering every inch of herself besides her face and shoulders.
”N–Not yet” She stuttered out, feeling even more intimidated after what she saw just an hour earlier.
Thomas nodded his head, looking out the window as he inhaled the smoke, taking his time before letting it out again.
After a minute of silence, Y/N licked her lips nervously as she saw him move forward, lazily stepping closer to the bed before sitting on the edge of it.
”You were out late” He pointed out without looking at her, his posture firm and strong despite his clearly relaxed state. Y/N glanced nervously, looking at his side profile.
”I was in the stables” She explained, hoping that she wouldn't get in trouble for that. Y/N didn't bother explaining on why she went only when he wasn't supposedly around. ”Time passed so quickly I didn't realise–” She continued until he cut her off while blowing out a cloud of smoke, causing her to wrinkle her nose at the intense scent.
”Tomorrow is a special day” He spoke up, raising his eyebrows as he shifted to the side, leaning on his hand by her leg over the covers. His eyes scanned her emotionlessly, taking in the soft lines of her face, her lively blushed cheeks. ”I was wrong at the beginning.” He admitted, tilting his head to the side. ”I thought there would be troubles with you. That you'd try to run away, be a handful, yeah? All that teenage nonsense.” He gestured with the hand in which he held the lit cigarette, drawing a little circle in the air. His voice held a bit of humour, despite his completely numb facial expression.
Y/N looked at him nervously, looking everywhere but in his eyes.
”One of the maids overheard your conversation with Ada.” Her heart sank for a second, which he saw clearly, making him chuckle. ”Told me how much you respect the dear, old Mr. Shelby, yeah?” He chuckled again, reaching out and suddenly grasping her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. The approval in his gaze made her a little more relaxed, just like the warmth of her touch. So much softer than the usual, bruising grip. ”Good girl” Tommy added, the corner of his mouth lightly turning up.
Y/N didn't know what to say, so she just nodded along to make him happy.
He tilted his chin up, eyes narrowing as he watched her expression while his hand moved to the side of her face, slowly pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
”Don't go alone when you're planning to be gone for that long. Next time you're going to tell me, eh?” He offered, almost gently with a hardened expression, earning another nod from her.
Thomas sighed, deeply, letting his hand drop to his side before raising from the bed. He came up, close, too close for comfort as he looked down.
”Tomorrow at eight in the morning Ada and Polly will take you shopping. You'll get new clothes and horse riding gear.” Tommy informed, finishing his cigarette before putting it out it is in a glass of water which stood on her nightstand. Y/N's expression turned into disgust as she saw that, and Thomas made her look at him again. ”Understood?”
”Yes, Mr. Shelby” She said, blinking quickly as she held his heavy gaze. His blue eyes remained motionlessly locked into her own before she corrected herself. ”Thank you, Mr. Shelby”
...and only then, he smiled lightly, nodding in approval before taking a step back.
”You're welcome”
He said, before turning around and heading to the door. When his hand made contact with the doorknob and the door opened slightly, he stopped, glancing down on his hands with a grin she couldn't possibly see.
”And next time, close the door once you're done watching me.”
Hearing his words, Y/N's mouth opened as she realized what he implied, eyes widening at the sense of seemingly innocent sentence. Her cheeks turned crimson red, as she blushed fiercely. Tommy stood in the doorway for a moment longer, knowing the upper hand he had on her. Knowing that the younger girl was too naïve and shy to speak up against him, to dare to correct him on a topic so sensitive. When he was sure she wouldn't respond, Thomas walked out of her room, closing the door behind him.
Once again, he won, and in that moment, Y/N realized he purposely asked the maid to get her, and left the door open. He wanted her to see.
~~
@iilovedonnatartt @randomcreator-09 @hagarsays @novashelby @wonderlanddreamer @calmingmelody96
summary | after a disastrous event, you find your favorite timekeeper at your door. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, light degradation, sort of toxic dynamic, power imbalance, dirty talk, oral (female receiving). word count | 2k+ a/n | not beta'd because i just wanted to write something because i haven't in a hot minute.
Raymond brackets your face between his hands, his eyes glacial, his lips pressed into an unimpressed line of dissatisfaction as he examines you. An ugly surge of desire forms in your lower belly as his calloused fingers brush against the bruised skin around your eye.
“Stupid girl,” he admonishes. The warm timbre of his voice draws a lick of want through your aching body, mean as it is. You grab onto his wrists, pushing them away from your face.
“I told you not to come tonight,” you say.
“I come when I please,” he says, indignant.
Tuesday night found you desperate, fighting as you never had before while the minutes on your arm dwindled down to seconds. An angry part of you wants to punish Raymond, to look at him with your bruised flesh and say, “What was I supposed to do, wait for you?” but you’re half afraid he’ll say something infinitely more unkind. He does that sometimes: punishes your cruelty with a form of violence you hadn’t known existed until you started to care for him. He has spent too long not looking after anyone but himself, so it is a self-preserving form of affection he administers.
This man doesn’t seem to know the totality of borrowed time—not with the way he turns your head in his hands again, looking over bits of you he’s already seen. You try not to tell him he’s wasting time, but it’s hard—you feel the full measure of a minute every time it goes by, and hate to spend it like this.
“I worked harder last week so I could have this night off,” you grumble, despite yourself. You push his hands away from you again, this time more firmly.
His jaw tenses. The irritation has begun to set in the crevices of his wearied soul.
“You don’t want me to go and I suggest you stop pretending you do. I might just do it, and then you’ll have a lot more than some common thug on the street to worry about.”
He nudges your arm pathetically, the green clock slowly ticking away on it. You despise the way he holds his favors over you. No matter how snug he’s got you under his thumb, he won’t ever receive your blind submission. In a flare of anger, you knock past him and head to the none too lavish bed. Bending over it, you look back to him expectantly.
“What are you doing?” he says.
You raise an eyebrow - a daring challenge. “Thought I better give you what you want before—“
Raymond rushes across the room like he’s forgotten the luxury of his long, sure minutes. Taking your arm in his hand, he tugs you upward with the sheer force of his anger. His fingers grip onto your chin; you watch as a dangerous fire alights within him. “Better not do that, kitten,” he huffs, voice steady even despite the evident anger etched in his features. He presses your body into his own, the grip on your arm beginning to ache.
“You’re hurting me,” you tell him softly.
He loosens his hold on you, but not his vitriol. “If you want to be fucked like a common whore, just ask for it. No need to suggest that I’m some kind of…creep when you know I’m angry because I—“
His words trail off, all that meaning floating in the air between you. Because I care. To him, that’s more dangerous than stolen time.
You soften, putting your hand on top of his. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“Who says I do? You’re nothing to me. Not really,” he responds coolly.
You run your tongue over your teeth, observing him, watching the carefully designed face of neutrality staring back at you. His indifference is a cruelty.
“We’re running out of time,” you remind.
He looks down at your arm. Two minutes. With lips pursued, he looks back at your eyes. You see the wheels turning in his head, all that careful calculating. Of all the things he is, and he is many, clever was not what you expected. But he is clever. You wish he would use it for better.
“You think I make you earn your life,” he enunciates, a tinny quality infecting his voice, “so earn it.”
There’s a sick pleasure that you derive from the lack of emotion in his eyes. You want him so badly it confuses you. There’s an ugly thing that exists inside of you and it wants, wants, wants him. He feeds it. It’s the same thing that makes you bend back over the bed, fingers gripping the comforter, your ass high. Beneath your dress, you wear a flimsy excuse for underwear.
You feel the bulk of him behind you. He smells of leather and sandalwood. If you close your eyes, you can remember what desire looks like on him. There’s heat in your belly that doesn’t simmer as you listen to him take a step closer.
He leans over and knocks your hands from beneath you, forcing you to lie on the bed. The cool of his leather ensemble against the warmth of your skin is an enthralling contrast. “Keep your wrist down,” he demands, voice low and sultry. “We’re gonna play a game, whore.”
Whore. The word causes a confusing pool of desire to gather between your legs. You want to punch him in the mouth. He’s never called you that before. But you like how the grit of the word sounded in his throat. You like how he takes charge. You always have. Every desperate person wants a God, and there’s something comforting about the way he tells you to kneel at his altar.
With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your cheap makeup rubbing off on the shoddy comforter, you await his next move like a prisoner awaits death. Anticipation courses through you as you listen to the sound of his voice, the rustle of his movements, feeling the ghost of him against you as he plots your demise.
“I’ll give you your beloved time, baby,” he coos, his fingers resting on your hips. They squeeze at your flesh there greedily, a warning for what is to come. His nose brushes against your neck, his breath hot against you as he says, “But you’re going to have to cum first. Not a second before. I think you can do that, can’t you? Because despite your pissy attitude, I know just how wet you get for me. And there’s the matter of life and death too. Everyone’s a whore when it comes down to seconds.”
He presses his lips to the back of your neck, moving down your body gradually. Eventually, you feel the ghost of his breath on your nearly exposed ass. Raymond wastes no time drawing up your dress.
“Spread your legs further,” he instructs. You do, eyebrows drawing together as his fingers grope at the flesh of your ass. There are angry imprints no doubt forming as he hums in delight.
“You’re just as wet as I thought you’d be.” His finger ghost downwards, rubbing over your clothed cunt. You can feel the desire that coats your underwear as he presses down. If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be humiliated by the way your body wants him.
Pulling aside the fabric of your flimsy underwear, he presses open mouthed kisses on your ass cheeks. His teeth glide dangerously across the skin too, until he reaches your cunt; when he reaches there, he dives in, his tongue plunging in the warmth of you while two of his fingers rub against your clit.
This is new, and would hardly be a punishment at all if not for the fact that your clock is running out and you can’t see it. Raymond eats at you like a man starved, the slick of his salvia lubricating you better than your own want. He moves his fingers furiously, grunting into you when you dare to push back into him for more.
“Stay still,” he demands gruffly, taking his mouth off of you. You comply, hard as it is to do when he’s touching you like this. “I know you’re close, baby. You’re gonna come on my tongue, aren’t you? Like the good little whore you are for me?”
His tongue swipes through your folds again, lapping up your combined fluids as his fingers press down with more intent on your clit. You fight with everything in you not to move. Your grip on the bedspread tightens and you huff quietly into the mattress, the tension boiling up inside of you. He could split you open right now and you’d thank him for it.
“Ray—” you moan. His nose edges against your cunt as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking obscenely. You can’t stop the way the orgasm takes you, nor do you want to; it’s overwhelming, a thing that happens all through you. Every sense is heightened. When he moans against your cunt, you nearly shatter against him.
He yanks you down quickly, pulling your limp body back on top of him. Before you’ve got time to figure out what he’s doing, he’s flipping over your arm. The green fluorescent numbers tick away. 55 seconds. 54 seconds. He sheds his leather jacket, exposing his forearm. You close your eyes when he holds it over yours. He cradles your jaw with his other hand, an oddly intimate act.
When he moves his arm off of you, you open your eyes. You don’t look at how much time he’s gifted you, but at him. His face of neutrality is all broken up before you, lips smooth with your slick, cheeks red from his own want. Even his eyes betray him as they glance down at you.
You’ve frightened each other. It's intoxicating. You feel the thrum of your heart beating against your chest. He struggles to catch his breath.
Raymond presses his lips to yours in a furious kiss. His hand tilts your head for easier access, and you push up, moving yourself further up his body.
“Not so tough now,” he growls. His fingers pinch at your chin.
You lick your lips, which now taste of you, rolling your eyes up at him. “Doesn’t seem like you are either.”
He grunts in displeasure, running his calloused thumb lightly against your wet lip. “You just want to be fucked dumb, don’t you?”
You turn your wrist. 2 days he’s given you, which is about 24 hours more than usual. The hunger for him makes you ravenous as you consider what he’s just said to you. You ignore it in favor of something more substantial: asking why.
“You don’t usually carry that much time with you.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “One of my little birdies told me about what happened to you.”
“So, what—you gave me some more time to be robbed of as a solution?”
He shakes his head, slightly annoyed. “No. I gave you more time so I could keep you here and show you how and where you should be spending it.” His fingers dip below the collar of your dress. “Stop being a fucking brat.”
“I never liked being told what to do,” you murmur as his thumb skirts over your nipple. He watches your eyes grow heavy as he swirls his finger over it.
“And yet,” he smirks, nodding down to your body.
You mirror his smirk, knowing he’s right. Even if you’ve got something of a paltry life, things like this can still happen, and that’s something, isn’t it? Knowing that things - people - like him, even in all the cruelty, can still rescue you.
Your fingers reach up and run over the pout of his lips. As your eyes search each other’s, you come to a silent agreement: a pledge to care. It’s a stupid, foolish flash of sentimentality you see before it’s masked again by your own respective desires and lust.
It’s almost as good as the time he’s given you—almost as good as all the time he could ever give you.
#raymond leon smut and Other Things That Ruined My Life: An Autobiography by vervainandspritz
i hope you write (i hope we both write)