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lluc1ll3 · 14 days ago

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good company to be sinful | tommy shelby

summary: you are due to be married to the leader of an enemy gang to the peaky blinders. the night before your wedding, you make thomas shelby an offer he can’t refuse.

wc: 5k

tags: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, Canon typical gang/violence talk, Tommy is Mr. Steal Your Girl, Cheating/scandal, Virginity loss, Age gap (Reader is early 20s, Tommy is late 40s), Tommy uses reader to get to his enemies, Smut (v fingering, fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), Choking, Finger sucking, Possessive!Tommy, Dom!Tommy, Reader is a lil depraved, Reader wants that cookie so fucking bad, Spot the Twin Peaks reference, Dirty talk, Spitting, Biting, Bits of Soft!Tommy, Degradation, Overstimulation, Innocence kink? Bit of violence at the end

read on ao3

There wasn’t a soul in Birmingham that had not heard of Thomas Shelby.

Hearing whispers of his name throughout your mid to late teens made him seem, in your mind, like some sort of boogeyman.

Even now, you heard his name uttered through whispered breaths as though saying it too loud would summon him.

Like his name was a curse.

The first time you caught sight of him, the first time you put a face to the name, there was a momentary shift in the way you viewed the man.

In your mind, Thomas Shelby was a monster. He took, he killed, he robbed. Mercy was not something he entertained.

In reality, Thomas Shelby was just a man.

A cold, violent man.

But a man nonetheless.

He commanded the entire room as soon as he entered it. An unlit cigarette between his lips, flat cap pulled low on his head. You almost could not see his eyes. His trench coat flowed behind him as he walked, surrounded by his cronies.

Heading straight towards you.

And yet, for some reason, you did not fear him at all.

He came to a stop beside the table you sat at. His brothers loomed behind him, but he took the lead.

“May I?” Thomas asked, nodding once towards the seat opposite you.

You nodded curtly. “Please,” you welcomed.

He took the seat before you gave your answer.

“You’re Fischer’s wife.”

He posed it as a statement, not a question.

Your jaw flexed at the mention of your soon-to-be husband. “Not yet. He’s yet to tie me down in loveless matrimony, if you must know, Mr. Shelby.”

Thomas seemed impressed by your defiance, if just for a moment. His icy exterior was not broken for long.

“You seem smart enough. I’m sure you’re aware your fiancé wants me dead.”

“You want him dead too,” you reminded him.

“It’s nothing personal.”

“If only it was.”

Something changed in Thomas’ eyes. His lip twitched, like he was itching to smirk, but he resisted, remaining personal. Instead, he reached into his pocket.

In the presence of Thomas Shelby, anyone else would have flinched if he reached into his pocket, expecting to be met with the cold steel of a gun.

You did not.

And he noticed that.

You could see his eyes now.

He was nothing like the stories you’d heard as a teen.

These weren’t the eyes of a boogeyman.

Wordlessly, his piercing blue eyes never leaving yours, he extended a cigarette towards you.

You wondered if he did this often with future wives of rival gang members.

You took the cigarette regardless. Your fingers brushed against his.

You leaned forward, and with a flick of his lighter, Thomas lit your cigarette for you.

You took a long drag, exhaling deeply, as Thomas lit up his own.

“I don’t often share cigarettes with gangsters.”

He hummed in amusement, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your fiancé lets you plan every move his little gang makes. But he won’t let you smoke.”

Again, it was not a question. Like he already knew just how cowardly your future husband was.

You exhaled another puff of smoke, holding his gaze. “Men are strange creatures, Mr. Shelby.”

He smirked. “Indeed they are.”

You raised the cigarette to your lips again. “So you know.”

Thomas continued to stare.

His gaze made you feel X-rayed.

You didn’t mind it.

“Yes. I know.”

“That why you’re here, Mr Shelby?” you queried. “Here to kill me? Teach my fiancé a lesson?”

He seemed genuinely amused at the suggestion. “Being a gangster isn’t all about killing people, love. It’s about negotiation. It’s about fear.”

You paused. “Well, I’m not afraid of you.”

Thomas did not seem fazed. Like this was all part of his plan. “I’m not asking you to be.”

“Then what are you asking, Mr Shelby?” you challenged him.

“Nothing.” He said it honestly. You believed him. “Just need it to get back to your fiancé that I was here. Talking to his woman. Make his mind spiral. Then the fear starts.”

“So we’re just… talking.”

It was absurd. If you told the teenaged you that you would be sitting in a bar, sharing a cigarette with Thomas Shelby - feared mobster and leader of the Peaky Blinders - she would have said you were fucking stupid.

“Just talking,” Thomas reaffirmed.

“I heard stories of you, growing up,” you confessed, tapping your cigarette into the ash tray before you. “You struck the fear of God into me, Thomas Shelby.”

His chest seemed to swell a little at that. As though striking the fear of God into a young woman was something to be proud of.

Or maybe it was the fact you had heard of him.

“And look at you now. You’re not afraid at all, are you?”

There was a feeling - deep within your chest, nestled in the base of your stomach. It was warm, burning like a fire. It did not feel like fear.

No. You weren’t afraid. You were intrigued.

“You’re not asking me to be afraid,” you reminded him.

“No. I’m not.”

Your cigarette fizzled out between your fingers, a symbol of your meeting coming to an end. “You’re not what I expected,” you admitted.

Thomas stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray. He stood, his chair scraping against the wood floor, echoing louder than it should have.

Everything he did left an impression.

Thomas took your hand, bent slightly, and kissed it politely.

His lips brushing against the skin of your hand sent a chill through your body.

“Neither are you,” said Thomas.

His gang began to retreat towards the doors of the pub. Their eyes raked over you as though you were something intriguing.

You did not look at them.

You just looked at Thomas.

He tipped his cap towards you, a gesture of farewell. “Good day, Miss.”

And like a beast disappearing into the night, he was gone.

You thought often of Thomas Shelby, even though you knew you shouldn’t. Should had never stopped you before. It was an odd word. You shouldn’t be involved in planning attacks for your fiancé’s gang.

You shouldn’t feel cold or unseen, laying next to the man you were supposed to marry.

And you shouldn’t be fantasising about your future husband’s mortal enemy. About his piercing blue eyes, the deep rumble of his voice, the calloused skin of his fingers brushing against your own.

That singular touch - one that lasted not even two seconds - ignited a fire within you that your husband never had. Never would.

The day of your wedding - your entrapment - crept up on you. One month. One week. Tomorrow.

Your groom had not been happy when word reached him that his woman had been sitting in a bar, sharing a cigarette with Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders. Insults had been exchanged aplenty. Names flew out of his mouth that bounced off your skin. An opinion of a man like him did not matter to you.

“Are you Thomas Shelby’s fucking whore now?” he had demanded, spit flying from his mouth.

Your response was meant to anger him. You wanted him to feel the words burrowing underneath his skin, feel them festering there.

But your tone revealed the truth in the words.

“I’d rather be his whore than your wife.”

It was dark when you said it. The words travelled out into the moonless night, floating down the street as if leading you somewhere. Luckily, your pathetic excuse of a fiancé did not follow you out into the cold evening air.

Down the street. Towards an address you had seen scrawled on the back of threatening letters to your fiancé - inviting him to come and try his luck on the life of Thomas Shelby.

Or maybe it was an invite to you.

The knock on his door reverberated into the night.

There was that word again: should. You shouldn’t be here. You should hope that he doesn’t answer.

But you are. And you don’t.

You hope he answers - and he does.

His usual stoic expression did not soften when he saw you. Despite it being deep into the night, Thomas was still dressed to work. His vest, trousers and shoes pristine as ever, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up to his elbows. A part of you was expecting him to be stained with the blood of his enemies.

Preferably the blood of your husband-to-be.

“Your man know you’re here?” Thomas asked.

You laughed, the idea ridiculous to you. “He doesn’t know anything about what I do.”

Thomas smirked. Like that was the answer he wanted. “And what is it you’re here to do?”

You. No, too vulgar.

“I’d like to ask you something. If you can find the time, of course.” You added the last part almost scathingly. As though sizing him up, letting him know that you were equals. That you were not to be toyed with.

Thomas looked at you with an expression that suggested he was not used to being talked to like anything other than a leader, a boss.

But it didn’t look like he hated it. Not coming from you.

“Well,” Thomas clicked his tongue, and then he finally opened the door fully, stepping back and allowing you the space to cross the threshold into his home. “Come in and ask it in the warm, at least.”

It was almost like he cared.

Thomas lead you through his hallway into a room at the back of the house, where a fire was crackling welcomingly. The warmth of the room filled your whole body. A desk stood before the fireplace, half-written letters strewn across its surface.

Thomas did not invite you to sit. He resumed his position at his desk, the one you assumed he had been in before your knock derailed his work. You stood in front of his desk with your hands clasped in front of you, as though you were a choir singer about to serenade him, or a salesman about to con him.

“Your dear fiancé fears what I might do to you. That’s why you’re here, eh?” He did not look up from whatever important words he was writing when he spoke.

You tilted your head. “Partly,” you answered honestly. “What’s he got to fear? What might you do to me? Tommy?”

The use of his nickname made him raise his head. Those eyes met yours. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Tommy leaned back in his chair, placing his pen down on his papers. “What do you want me to do to you?”

You shuddered at his words. “It would be sinful of me to say it.”

He quirked an eyebrow, as if he already knew what you were about to say. He welcomed it without batting an eyelid. “I’m a killer. I know all about sin. You’re in good company to be sinful.”

Tommy looked like sin. He smelled like it. Maybe he was your sin. And this time, you weren’t looking to repent.

“So go on,” he ordered. “Ask away.”

You stared into his eyes for a moment. They were the colour of a lake you could happily drown in. Thomas Shelby was captivating.

Really, you were just another of his victims. A victim of his words.

A victim of his gaze.

A victim of your own desire.

The words left you calmly. There was no more room within you for shame.

Just for him.

“I want you to fuck me, Tommy.”

Like him, you did not ask. You demanded.

Tommy raised his eyebrows inquisitively. He leaned forward, the proposition intriguing. “You want me to fuck you?” he repeated.

He wanted to hear you say it again.

“I want you. To fuck me.”

He chuckled. “Fiancé not satisfying you?”

“He never has. And he never will. I will not let him own that part of me. I want it to be you.”

Something glinted in Tommy’s eyes.

Excitement.

Intrigue.

Desire.

Tommy stood, his eyes never leaving yours. He moved slowly around the desk, as if taunting you with the proximity between you both growing smaller and smaller. “You came here to ask me to fuck you. Pathetic, really.”

“I’m to be married tomorrow,” you informed him calmly, trying desperately to ignore the hammering of your heart against your ribcage and the growing pool of desire between your legs. “Tonight I make my own decisions.”

“And your last decision before you marry your husband is to fuck the man who wants to kill him.” Despite his degrading words, Tommy’s tone was not judgemental. It was almost impressed. Like he admired your honesty.

Like he wanted this as much as you did.

Tommy dared to touch you first. His large, manly hand caressed the side of your face, thumb running delicately along your jawline. “Why is it you’re not afraid of me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, low and gravelly in his throat.

There were a million ways you could answer that question. But you went with the one that flipped your stomach whenever you thought it. The one that felt like a crown of thorns wrapping around your heart. The one that was being whispered into your ear by the Devil on your shoulder.

“You’re not the only one who wants my husband dead.”

A proud smirk made its way onto Tommy’s infuriatingly handsome face. His whole hand fit around your face. He could cover your mouth if he wanted to. The way you were sure your fiancé would do.

But Tommy Shelby was not him. He was everything the man you were set to marry would never be. To your future husband, he was the man he hated the most. To you, he was the object of all your desires.

Tommy did not cover your mouth. He heard you. He worked with you. Instead, he gently squeezed your soft cheeks between his hand. Gentler than you had ever thought Tommy was capable of being.

“You’re his from tomorrow. So you’re mine for tonight.”

You would never belong to your husband. But you would take being Tommy’s. So you nodded. Opened your mouth enough to whisper, “Kiss me.”

He did. His lips were rough against yours, moving with passion. The same lips that threatened and cursed, that humiliated and insulted the man who was supposed to kiss you like this.

The hand that had been cupping your jaw moved down to your throat, wrapping around with no effort. Tommy squeezed gently, eliciting a desperate gasp from your mouth. He smirked against your lips, like that was the reaction he wanted.

With his other hand, Tommy touched every part of you he could. His fingers combed through your hair. He cupped your breast. He squeezed your ass. His hand roamed as though he wanted to mark every part of you he could, taint your soft skin with the sin the two of you were about to commit.

“Get on the desk.” Tommy moaned the words into your mouth, one possessive hand still wrapped around your throat, the other grasping your lower back, pulling your body as close to his as possible.

“What for?” you gasped.

“So I can kneel.”

Tommy practically shoved you into a sitting position on a free space of his wooden desk. Even now, he was anything but gentle - and you weren’t complaining a bit.

You weren’t here to be handled gently.

You were here to get fucked by the gangster you’d grown up hearing stories about. To feel his blood-stained hands all over your body.

Tommy wasted no time, kneeling before you like a man at a confessional about to confess his deepest of sins. This definitely wasn’t his worst of discretions. It was just another addition to his growing list.

And you were happy to be that, just for tonight.

“Those letters over there are to your fiancé,” Tommy murmured into the tender skin of your thigh, nodding towards the papers beside you on the desk. With one hand, his fingertips pressed into your thigh so hard you were sure you would be bruised in a matter of minutes. With the other, he tore off your underwear like they were a hinderance, ripping them clean in two. He tossed the fabric over his shoulder like it was nothing. “Shall I put this in writing?” he asked darkly, pushing apart your legs, revealing your already dripping pussy to his hungry eyes.

You had no time to respond, because Tommy seemingly could not hold himself back any longer. He licked a long, singular stripe along your folds, the sound of your loud moan music to his ears.

“If he could fucking see this.” Tommy groaned, moving his lips from your pussy to pepper sweet, tempting kisses along your inner thigh. “His woman, spread open on my desk.”

“Not his woman,” you breathed, your hands tangling in Tommy’s hair. “Yours tonight.”

Tommy smirked at you from between your legs, moving your legs so they were draped over his shoulders. The scratchy fabric of his vest irritated the back of your thighs but you were beyond caring about discomfort at this point.

“Good fucking girl,” Tommy practically growled, before reconnecting his tongue to your aching pussy, licking and sucking and nipping from your folds to your clit.

Your head hung backwards, eyes squeezed shut. You were certain at one point you could see stars bursting across your vision as Tommy continued his relentless lapping at your pussy. One hand pulled and tugged at his dark hair with every move his tongue made on your cunt, the other gripped the edge of his desk so hard your hand was aching already.

“Fuck yes, Thomas… Keep going, please,” your whines and moans spurred him on, sucking and licking at your clit like his life depended on it. You had never felt pleasure like this before and you were certain you never would again.

You let out a strangled gasp when Tommy shoved his index finger inside of you, continuing to suck on your clit like a man starved. He slipped a second finger inside of you, his fingers working in tandem with his mouth. With his fingers pumping rhythmically and his mouth sucking determinedly, your orgasm ripped through you. Incoherent words and gasps and moans spilled from your mouth as you came all over Tommy’s tongue. He lapped up every last drop, coaxing you through it with praises and groans that sent vibrations through your entire body.

Eventually, Tommy stood, his mouth slick from your juices and his eyes almost feral for you. Your chest heaved, your entire body trembled from the force of the orgasm he had just brought you to.

But Tommy was nowhere near done with you.

And Tommy Shelby got what he wanted.

Almost towering over you now, staring down at you with lust-filled eyes, Tommy continued to pump his two fingers inside of you, curling them just right to reach that sweet spot inside of you once more. “You can handle another one, can’t you?” Tommy murmured into your skin, pressing soft kisses up your neck and across your jawline.

“Tommy,” you whined, clutching at the shoulders of his vest now, the scratchy material bunching up in your fists from the sheer force of how hard you were holding onto him. “It hurts.”

“But it feels good, doesn’t it, love?” Tommy sighed into your ear, his free hand clutching your face.

You nodded. Because fuck, it felt good. Your entire body shook and you felt like you were on fire, but that sensation building up in your lower stomach was Heavenly.

“You’re a good girl, you’re gonna take it,” Tommy shushed you, teasing a third finger at your entrance. “You look so pretty when you cum for me.”

His words, combined with his fingers and their relentless work inside of you was enough to tip you over the edge. You clutched his shirt and let out a strangled moan, feeling yourself about to fall apart once more.

Tommy had one more request to make before you did.

“Look at me,” Tommy ordered, fingers knuckles deep inside of you. You did, lips parted and eyes heavy with desire. His ocean blue eyes met yours, his expression deadly serious, like this was an art form to him.

Your second orgasm in five minutes came rushing, every inch of your body shaking as you chanted Tommy’s name like a forgotten prayer. He continued to finger you through your orgasm, eyes watching you intently, almost intrigued by you and how your body reacted to him.

When the feeling of immense pleasure subsided, Tommy smirked satisfactorily and removed his fingers from your soaked pussy. His fingers were wet with your slick. “Taste yourself,” he ordered. “Taste how fucking sweet you are.”

You took his fingers in your mouth without question, swirling your tongue around them and tasting your own juices. Tommy’s breath actually trembled as he watched you. He used it to his advantage that he had you wrapped around his finger, but in reality, you had him exactly the same way.

“Good girl,” Tommy praised you, removing his fingers from your mouth. “All sweet and innocent. Just for me, isn’t it?”

You nodded, too overwhelmed and overstimulated from his mouth and his fingers to form a coherent sentence.

“Words, sweetheart,” Tommy commanded. “Use your words or I won’t fuck you.”

“Just for you, Tommy,” you breathed, barely louder than a whisper.

“He’s never gonna make you feel like this, is he?” Tommy growled possessively, lips ghosting over yours. “Never gonna make your pretty pussy cum like I do.”

You shook your head. Completely at his mercy.

“Open your mouth,” Tommy ordered, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb before you even processed the request. You stuck your tongue out before he even asked you to, and when he spat onto your tongue, you gladly closed your mouth. “Swallow,” he told you, still clutching your jaw in his hand. You did as he asked, opening your mouth and showing him the smooth surface of your tongue once more to show him you’d complied.

Tommy groaned. “Such a good little plaything for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? Makes me want to keep you. He doesn’t deserve to have you like this.”

“Tommy, please,” you whimpered, tugging at his shirt, bringing his body closer to yours. You wrapped your still shaking legs around his waist, grinding your naked pussy against his clothed, hard cock. “Need you to fuck me.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, smirking as he began to undo the buttons of his vest, tossing it away and then beginning to work on his shirt. “Want me to ruin you now, hm?”

“Think you want it just as much,” you argued, eyes raking over Tommy’s now bare chest. Even the faded ink of his tattoos enthralled you.

Your index finger ran over the tattoo on his pec. He watched you admiring him, his eyes still hungry, but something else shimmered behind his blue irises now. Something almost sweet, practically affectionate.

Tommy Shelby was not sweet.

But maybe for you he was willing to be.

You leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss over his chest tattoo. Your mouth acted before your mind did, your teeth softly grazing the skin just above his nipple. You bit him.

Tommy hissed through his teeth in surprise at your action. Though when you looked up at him, he was actually smiling.

You had never seen Thomas Shelby smile before.

Smirk, yes. But never smile.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked me, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled sweetly back at him.

“I do like you,” Tommy murmured, resting his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against your cheek. Your hand once again came up to rest on the back of his head, bringing him closer to you. “I like how innocent you are even with all the blood on your hands. I like that you’re about to give this sweet little virgin pussy up to me.”

You heard the clinking of his belt and the rustling of the material of his trousers as Tommy freed his hard cock from his briefs. You stole a glimpse at his length, watching as his strong hand pumped his cock a few times. You were pleasantly surprised. You had no idea a dick could be so pretty.

Tommy’s lips feathered a soft kiss upon your jawline. “I’ll be gentle if you want me to.”

You shook your head. Tommy raised his head from your neck, his traditional Shelby smirk back on his face. “You don’t want me to be gentle?”

“If I wanted gentle, I wouldn’t have come to Tommy Shelby.”

You’d heard stories of the Boogeyman.

And you wanted the fucking Boogeyman.

Tommy tilted his head to the side, his hooded lust-filled eyes never leaving yours. “Whatever you like.”

One of Tommy’s hands gripped your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible. The other rested on the smooth surface of the wooden desk so hard his knuckles were already turning white, giving himself balance as he shoved himself into you inch by inch.

Your head tilted backwards, mouth open in a breathy moan. You felt lightheaded at the length and the thickness of him, like you could fall backwards, but Tommy was supporting you and wouldn’t let that happen. Your eyes watered, a combination of the pain and the pleasure.

Tommy didn’t move for a moment, allowing you time to adjust to the new sensation of his cock buried inside of you. His eyes met yours, tone deadly serious as he asked, “Feel okay, sweetheart?”

“Feels- Feels good,” you breathed heavily. “Please move.”

Tommy tutted, giving a single shake of his head. He pressed light kisses along your tear-stained cheeks, whispering against your skin, “You’re gonna need to beg better than that.”

“Please,” you whined, pulling his lips down onto yours, moaning against his mouth. “Please fuck me, Thomas.”

Either he was satisfied with just your few seconds of begging, or he was just too impatient to wait. Tommy snapped his hips against yours, reaching an unforgiving, brutal pace, his cock hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. His movements drew out every moan, every whimper, every guttural sound from your very soul.

Something animalistic glinted in Tommy’s eyes with every hard thrust. His arm wrapped around your back, supporting you as each roll of his hips forced you further back onto the desk until you were led on your back, splayed across Tommy’s important letters, the savvy businessman side of him overtaken by the primal beast of a man now hovering over you, pounding harder and harder with each passing second.

Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pushing him as far inside of you as possible. With his now free hands, Tommy pushed your thighs back to allow himself deeper access inside of you. His cock stretched you out painfully, but the pain was delicious. He slotted inside of you perfectly, like you were made to be fucked by him.

Every moan and shriek that left your mouth spurred him on, feeling himself getting closer and closer with each pretty sound you made.

“You feel - fucking - perfect,” Tommy groaned, each word punctuated by another brutal thrust that caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes.

Tommy’s hand curled around your neck once more, his pace never faltering. “Look at me, pretty girl,” he growled.

When you did, you saw him. Thomas Shelby - leader of the Peaky Blinders - the monster you’d heard stories about.

The monster you used to fear.

The monster stealing your innocence on the desk at which he had drafted countless death threats - smearing your lipstick all over a letter addressed to the man you were set to marry in a few hours.

He had officially fucked every ounce of fear out of you, and replaced it with an inhumane, Unholy dedication.

“Don’t take your eyes off me,” Tommy ordered in what you were sure was his gangster voice - it was hot as fuck. The muscles in his chest and arms flexed with each thrust, he bit down on his bottom lip gently, his brow furrowed with concentration, a bead of sweat running down his temple.

He was fucking gorgeous. You couldn’t even resent him for it.

Your nails scratched at Tommy’s biceps as his thrusts became more sporadic. You could tell he was close based on his movements and the desperate pants leaving his mouth, his hot breath fanning on your cheek.

“I’m close, Tommy,” you cried. “Gonna cum again.”

“Cum for me then, pretty girl. Let me feel it.”

Whatever Tommy wanted, Tommy got.

Your pussy clenched around his cock as you reached your climax. White spots burst across your vision. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and your legs shook. Your third orgasm crashed over you like the sea onto rocks, and with a string of exclcamatorys from his filthy mouth, Tommy’s orgasm followed yours, spilling his cum into your newly fucked-out pussy.

There was silence as the two of you caught your breath. Tommy helped you into a sitting position, his arm around your waist supporting your trembling body.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak.

You got there first.

“Kill him.”

Tommy froze, eyes locked on yours. “Who?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

There was that word again. Should.

You should not have just allowed the man who lusted after your future husband’s blood to lust after you.

You should not have just let Thomas Shelby fill you up with his cum.

You should not have a deadly gangster wrapped around your little finger.

But you did. And you do.

And that’s what made you decide it.

“My husband. Kill him.”

Whatever Tommy wanted, Tommy got.

What he wanted now, more than anything, was you.

And he was going to get it. With just one bullet, a bloodstain on your wedding dress and a glimpse at the merciless monster you’d heard tales of growing up.

And still, you did not fear him.

He was yours now.

Tommy Shelby - your perfect fucking monster.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #cillian murphy

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slut4thebroken · 9 months ago

Text

Locktober

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x reader

Summary | It’s day 11 of Locktober and you got Robert a ‘present’…

Warnings | Smut, chastity, prostate milking, orgasm denial?, praise, he’s whiny obviously, humiliation, mommy kink obviously.

Words | 2k

Notes | I can’t stop writing sub Robert lol. Also sorry if this is bad💀 I’ve never written this before lmao

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 11: prostate milking + chastity

“I have a surprise for you, angel.” You called out, walking into the living room with a small paper bag in your hand.

“What is it?” He asked curiously, closing his laptop without hesitation and putting it on the coffee table. You sat down next to him on the couch and placed the bag on the floor, then pulled him into you. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on your chest, making you smile.

“How has Locktober been treating you so far?” You asked innocently, but couldn’t hide your smirk.

“Wanna come…” He whined, nuzzling into your cleavage a little.

“I’m sure I can make that happen, sweetheart.” You chuckled, already planning what to do with him. “Can you pull your pants down for me, love?” You asked, still holding him. Since it was his day off and he didn’t have any plans, he was wearing sweatpants, so he quickly pushed them and his underwear down to his thighs. “Oh… look at you.” You cooed, reaching over to trail your finger down the cage with a small smirk. When you cupped his balls, his breath caught in his throat and he hugged you tighter. They just looked so big and swollen— so full of come… “I think you deserve your present now, baby.”

He whined when you got down on your knees, but that protest ended the second he saw you take off your necklace that had the small key on it. He was frozen in anticipation, not wanting to accidentally say or do anything to make you change your mind. You unlocked the cage and slowly pulled it off, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re really gonna let me come?” He asked timidly, worried it was a trick.

“Of course, baby.” You removed the ring that was around his cock and balls, then reached for the paper bag, not wanting him to have a chance to get hard so he’d actually fit in his new ‘gift.’ When you pulled out a new, smaller cage, his expression fell and you almost felt bad for him.

“But…” He whimpered. You ignored him and put his balls and then his cock through the ring. Then you started trying to fit his cock in the smaller cage. “Mommy..” He whined pathetically, squirming a little.

“Quit it. Or I’ll make you wear it through all of ‘No Nut November’ too.” You warned, making him frown.

It took a little while for you to be able to squeeze his cock down enough to lock it, but once it was on, you placed the new key on your necklace and secured it around your neck again.

“How does that feel, baby?”

“Small..” He muttered, very obviously sulking.

“Keep up the attitude and I’ll change my mind about making you come.” You said menacingly, but he just pouted.

“I can’t come in this.” He scoffed quietly, making you immediately smirk.

“No?” You asked rhetorically, a devilish grin gracing your lips. “Let’s find out then. Up.” You commanded, getting to your feet as he joined you. Without another word, you walked off toward the bedroom, trusting that he was following you. “Clothes off. Face down, ass up on the bed.” You ordered. While he undressed, you grabbed lube and a hand towel, then made your way back over to him.

“Do I really have to wear this for the rest of the month?” He frowned, staying in position, but turning his head to look back at you as you settled on the bed behind him.

“Of course not. You have to wear it until I decide you can take it off.” You said plainly, giving him a teasing smile. You laid out the towel between his legs on the bed, already knowing how messy this would probably be— it’s already 11 days into Locktober and Robert hasn’t had a single orgasm since you put the cage on him, so you knew he had a lot of come built up.

“Ready?” In response, he whined and jutted his hips back, making you chuckle quietly, “Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” As far as you know, Robert hasn’t ever been with someone who’s dominated him the way that you do… He probably still thinks he’s getting an actual orgasm.

“Please.” He whined, arching his back even more and pushing his hips closer to you. Rolling your eyes, you circled a lubed finger around his rim, then pushed in slowly. He whimpered into the bed and you placed a hand on his hip, trying to comfort him.

“That feel good, baby?” You cooed, making him mewl and nod wordlessly. You pushed a second finger inside and didn’t bother fingering him the way you normally would to open him up. Instead, you immediately zeroed in on his prostate and started rubbing slow circles over it.

“F-Fuck, I…” He choked out, body twitching, unconsciously trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure. You shushed him quietly and continued the slow, steady pace with your fingers. “Oh god…” He sobbed. His legs were trembling and he couldn’t hold back his sounds so he kept his face buried in the sheets to muffle them. A few drops of precum were already starting to leak from his cock onto the towel.

“Let go, angel.” You urged gently. His breathing picked up and he was pushing his hips back, trying to fuck himself on your fingers, despite already feeling overwhelmed with the sensations.

“Mommy,” he whimpered pathetically.

“I know, baby. Just let go— I’ve got you.” You cooed. Almost as if on command, the milky liquid started dribbling out of his cock, landing onto the towel below. “Oh, good boy…” You moaned, using your thumb to add extra pressure on his perineum, causing him to cry out.

“It hurts..” He sobbed, making you smirk. You knew that getting turned on while his cock was physically unable to become erect would be uncomfortable, probably even a little painful… That’s why you liked it so much.

“I know, angel, but you’re doing so good.” He wasn’t actually coming, that much was obvious just based on how tortured and desperate his sounds were. But this would hopefully alleviate the ache that had steadily built up after not coming for so long.

You pushed a third finger in and applied even more pressure, forcing an anguished moan from him. His cock was still leaking and you regretted not getting a bowl or something because, with how much he had already ‘come,’ the towel was pretty much useless now.

“You know… I didn’t have to help you. I could’ve left you aching and full of come.” You said suggestively, hinting at what you wanted from him.

“T-Thank you.” He whimpered.

“What was that?”

“Thank you,” he cried out when you landed a sharp smack on his ass and quickly corrected himself, “Thank you, mommy!”

“For?”

“For helping me..” He whined, no doubt blushing furiously. You chuckled, savoring how pathetic he looked and sounded.

“This must be so embarrassing for you, isn’t it?” You mused, making him whine. “Having your cock locked up… needing mommy to drain your balls just to give you a tiny bit of relief…” He let out a choked sob and you smirked, satisfied that you were furthering his humiliation.

“Mommy…” He cried weakly, flinching away from the relentless assault on his prostate as his release continued pouring out of his cock in a steady stream, landing on the soaked dowel.

“C’mon, give me a little more and you can be done.” You urged gently. He whined and shook his head, trying to protest, but his leaking cock gave him away— There was still more and you were going to milk every last drop out of him. “You should see yourself, baby.” You chuckled quietly, making him whine again. “Your poor balls look so swollen… Do they still hurt?” You cooed mockingly.

“Yes, but… not as much.” He whimpered.

“See? I told you I would help you, angel.”

“Wanna come..” His voice was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him.

“What are you talking about? I’m milking all the come out of you right now.” You said coyly, unable to hold back a smirk.

“Wanna come for real.” He whined.

“I’m sure you do, sweetheart, but you still have 20 more days until Locktober is finished and then another 30 for No Nut November.” You said cruelly, making him sob out a moan. Robert could safeword at any time and this would all stop immediately, but you knew he wouldn’t because no matter how much he claimed it hurt and he couldn’t bear it, deep down, he wanted it. He craved being owned by you— completely.

“Keep being my good boy and I’ll milk you every week or two. I don’t want my baby to be in too much pain.” Any kindness that might’ve been in your voice was completely overshadowed by the real meaning of your words; he won’t have any orgasms for two months, but you’ll be ‘nice’ and occasionally give him a prostate massage to make him ‘come.’

After another few seconds, the stream leaking from his cock slowed into a sporadic trickle, then stopped completely. You gently pulled your fingers out of him and he let out a soft sound, but was focusing mostly on catching his breath.

“Turn over on the other side of the bed.” You instructed. He seemed glad to give his quivering legs a break and rolled to the other side onto his back. “Look at the mess you made.” You said teasingly. He blushed and bit his lip, staring at the soaked towel. When he looked away sheepishly, you let out a quiet chuckle and carefully picked up the towel, then walked it to the bathroom, setting it in the sink for now. You quickly made your way back to the bedroom and joined Robert on the clean side of the bed, pulling him into your arms, letting him lay his head on your chest.

“How are you feeling, angel?” You asked softly, petting his hair.

“Needy.” He mumbled against you, making you laugh quietly.

“I know… but you’re my good boy, aren’t you? I know you can do it.” He let out a soft sound and nuzzled into your chest to hide his blushing face. “But…” you added, talking slowly to make sure he was listening, “if you feel like you can’t do it, I don’t want you to hesitate, okay? I won’t be upset or disappointed.” He turned his head so his chin was on your chest and he was looking up at you. “Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d last this long.” You chuckled and he gave you a shy smile.

“It’s hard, but… wanna be good for you.” He said sheepishly, making your heart practically melt.

“Yeah?” Sometimes his unwavering devotion and submissiveness made you a bit nervous. Robert was the first person you’ve ever been with who actually gave you this much control over him and you weren’t really used to it. Part of you found the responsibility a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was just endearing. It made you feel so special that he trusted you so much.

He nodded with a blush and you cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “Good.” You murmured, dragging your gaze all over his face. “Do you want to help me get off or do you want to lay there and watch?”

“Wanna help.” He said without hesitation, but you could see the way he was pouting, feeling jealous that you were able to come while he wasn’t.

“Good boy. Go get the strap then. Just because you’re locked up doesn’t mean you can’t fuck me.” You smirked, making his frown deepen. “Unless you’d rather watch me use my vibrator instead…?” He immediately got up to go retrieve the strap, along with your favorite dildo, and you laughed quietly at his eagerness.

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 2 months ago

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Well now I wanna know Adams backstory

*rubs hands together* alrighty, lemme cook sksksk

Adam was born to a fishing family (hence the name Fischer). His mother died in childbirth, so he is the only child of his parents. His father was a good man, raised him well, taught him manners and the basics of reading, writing, and math. When Adam was a teenager, his father was called to fight in the war, and he never returned. Adam waited two seasons after the war ended before he decided to move on.

He is not from the same country as Y/N, although the language and culture is similar. He became a knight at the closest castle, training for years. He had a fling with one of the maids of the castle, but nothing came of it because she married a traveling salesman and left the village. Later on he met a village girl that he liked a great deal, but before he officially asked for marriage, she became sick with the plague and died. He leaves the country due to the plague and eventually ends up at the castle you work at.

He is a well trained knight, so after he was knighted he became second in command fairly quickly. The captain has three daughters, but no sons, so Adam is like the son he never had. Adam often goes to the captain for advice and guidance.

He's a simple man. He likes fish the most because it reminds him of home. He does not care much for art or reading, but he enjoys telling stories by the fire and drinking games. He does not enjoy dancing because he thinks he is too clumsy for it.

He has always wanted children of his own. He wants a big family full of love. Right now, his fellow soldiers are like brothers to him, so that brings him comfort. He likes to lift the other knights' children and carry them on his shoulders. He likes being an "uncle", even if it is not by blood.

He loves you. By God, he loves you more than anyone he has ever known.

#ask #knight x chubby reader

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tommyshelby87 · 19 days ago

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Masterlist

Hi everyone!

I don't have a whole lot of Cillian Murphy fics just yet, but I expect to be expanding in the nearby future ^.^ So I decided to make a masterlist.

Stories under the cut, sorted by character!

Thomas Shelby:

Empty Shelves and Promises (Ao3 Link) Summary: Due to her father's debt with the Peaky Blinders, Evelyn Carnahan is set up to marry the infamous Thomas Shelby. Can the bookish young librarian, who is struggling to find her place in the world, hold her own against his dark and commanding personality? Warnings: Dark Tommy, substance abuse, grief, mentions of loss, also other dark themes that will be revealed later on in the story.

Chapter: 1 - A union arranged Chapter 2: - The List Chapter 3: - Meeting the Family Chapter 4: - The Meeting

Robert Fisher:

Robert and mister Rogers (Ao3 Link) Summary: a short wholesome story about Robert Fischer meeting Mister Rogers. Circular shapes Summary: A short funny little drabble for Robert, hope you'll enjoy it :) I saw a funny tweet that inspired this story, its a little silly but it made me laugh. Warning: some smut at the end.

Neil Lewis:

Kneil Summary: The boys torture Neil sexually and he lets them.

WARNING! DARK THEMES, BULLYING Edgeplay, spitting, throatfucking, non-con/sub-con, degrading, anal, use of a plug, cumplay. Please thread carefully, it gets dark at some spots.

Jackson Rippner

An eye for an eye (Ao3 Link) Summary: Its a very dark story, Jackson wants revenge on Lisa for ruining his plan on the plane and he gets it by using her body as he sees fit. Warning: Non-con, dub-don, humiliation, edging, ruined orgasm, dirty talk, spitting. Its a dark one, please thread carefully if this is not your thing.

Seeing eye to eye (Ao3 Link) Summary: Silly crossover story between the movie Red Eye and our beloved anti-hero Deadpool. Jackson thinks he is getting on his red eye flight to bully Lisa Reisert into doing his bidding. Instead Deadpool is waiting for him and he's a man with a plan.

Tags: @cillianscupid @duckietie @novashelby @beastofburdenxo @nojustnobro @xxiamtiebrousxx @wonderlanddreamer @anukulee @rosirot @gathania93 @hatethis29 @breakthestereo @bisexualr2d2 @rememberingangels @bernadettebraun @lau219 @watermeezer @mrsarnasdelicious @sunpuffsstuff @sunny-0-0 @chillianmurphy @jonathancraneswife444

I tagged the people on my Peaky Blinders taglist, let me know if you wanted to be added or removed!

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whencyclopedia · 1 year ago

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Ptolemaic Army

The army of Ptolemaic Egypt was a well-organized fighting force trained in Hellenistic warfare. The Ptolemaic dynasty used their considerable wealth to maintain a large standing army of professional soldiers. Some troops were paid in money, and others were given farmland in exchange for service. In wartime, military expenditure could represent more than three-quarters of national spending.

The Ptolemaic army's earliest members were mostly foreigners who immigrated to Egypt to serve the Ptolemaic dynasty. These soldiers and their descendants established Greek, Persian, Thracian, and Jewish communities in Egypt. Over time, their numbers were replenished by Egyptian conscripts trained in Greek tactics.

Origin, Recruitment & Ethnic Composition

Alexander the Great (r. 336-323 BCE) conquered Egypt in 332 BCE as part of his conquest of the Achaemenid Empire. After the death of Alexander the Great, his general Ptolemy I made himself king of Egypt. Other parts of Alexander's empire were divided between the rest of his generals in the Wars of the Diadochi. The army of Ptolemy I was originally composed of 4,000 soldiers left in Egypt by Alexander, along with thousands of mercenaries.

In Asia, of those who had shared in the division of the satrapies, Ptolemy took over Egypt without difficulty and was treating the inhabitants with kindness. Finding eight thousand talents in the treasury, he began to collect mercenaries and to form an army. A multitude of friends also gathered about him on account of his fairness.

(Diodorus Siculus, 18.14.1)

The core of Ptolemy I's original army was Macedonian. Persian and Egyptian troops left over from before Alexander's conquest were absorbed into this army. As the Hellenistic kingdoms waged perennial territorial wars with each other, they replenished their armies with large numbers of soldiers and mercenaries. Seasoned, professional soldiers had an advantage over new conscripts, and could command high wages.

In terms of bargaining power, soldiers were in a strong position vis-a-vis the rulers, since the latter were in a harsh competition for resources and territory in the decades following Alexander's conquest. Each ruler needed both to hire well-trained soldiers and to prevent his rivals from hiring them.

(Fischer-Bovet, 167)

Ptolemaic recruiting officers (xenologoi) traveled throughout the eastern Mediterranean to enlist mercenaries, and captured enemy troops were also sometimes conscripted. After the Battle of Gaza in 312 BCE, 8,000 prisoners of war were sent back to Egypt and given plots of land in exchange for service. However, the surviving evidence indicates that most recruits traveled to Egypt on their own initiative, either by themselves or in small groups. These people were drawn by Egypt's wealth and the possibility of becoming landowners or ranking officials in the Ptolemaic government. From the 3rd century BCE onwards, new recruits were increasingly conscripted from within Ptolemaic territory. These troops were raised in Greece, Cyrene, Egypt, Cyprus and Syria.

Most recruits in the early Ptolemaic army were from Macedon and mainland Greece. Significant numbers of Thracians, Carians, Persians, and Jews served as well, particularly in the cavalry. The descendants of these troops typically continued to serve as soldiers. Egyptians were another major component of the Ptolemaic army, especially in later periods when they were conscripted en masse. The exact ethnic composition of the Ptolemaic army is unknown because ethnic names were sometimes used to denote rank or language instead of ancestral origin. Galatians and Nubians also served in more limited numbers.

#History #PtolemyI #PtolemaicDynasty #PtolemaicArmy

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pictureinme · 2 years ago

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kinktober day iii. ROLE-PLAY – robert fischer

word count: ~800 tags: d/s dynamics, teacher rp, spanking, rimming, hand jobs masterlist | ao3

“You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you, Mr. Fischer?”

He looks up at you from his kneeling position on the floor, eyes nervous and flitting everywhere, “Yes, ma’am… I’ve been bad.”

Smirking, you circle him. You’re donned in a very cheap Halloween costume that was labeled “Tantalizing Teacher,” something that caught Robert’s eye while browsing the web. Admittedly, you were intrigued by it too, knowing his tendency to… submit, and he immediately put it in his cart. You paired it with the sluttiest red heels you could find, towering over him easily.

Tilting his chin up with your ruler, you pout, “Am I supposed to pity you?”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Then what do I do with bad boys like you, hm? Do I just let them off easy?”

The edge of the ruler traces his jawline, threatening to slap him at any given moment, “I think you punish them, ma’am.”

“Finally, a good answer from you. Why aren’t you this receptive in class, Mr. Fischer? We could’ve avoided all this… unless you wanted it?”

A sweat droplet forms on his forehead as you move the ruler to rest on his quivering bottom lip, “I just want you, Miss, that’s all.”

You roll your eyes, huffing, “Take your slacks off and get on the bed, ass up. Now.”

Robert scrambles upwards, unbuckling his belt with no precision whatsoever. The desperation was evident as he was left only in his boxers, a wet spot forming on the fabric. He crawls onto the bed, never making eye contact with you for fear of breaking any boundaries of the scene.

He followed your directions to a T, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the humiliating position he was in. His ass was practically shaking with anticipation, eager for whatever you would give him.

“Desperate to be punished, aren’t you? Pathetic, really.”

You hear Robert try to bite back a whimper, and you don’t hesitate to smack him with the ruler. His noises fail to cease, and you know what you have to do. You slide your damp panties down your legs, “Turn around.”

Hesitantly, Robert turns, struggling to stay somewhat in his aforementioned position. You pick up your knickers and shove them between his freshly bitten lips.

“Now, if you manage to make any noise with that in your mouth, you’re not cumming for a week.”

The fear in his eyes is obvious, but he obeys your command, nodding. Robert gets back into position, albeit more nervously. You smile at the control you have over this otherwise powerful man– you’ve seen the way a simple hand gesture could give him the world, but not in this room.

You trace the seams of his boxers with the ruler, giving him a false sense of security. When you snap it back on him, he jerks forward, but makes no sound, “Good boy.”

Robert’s shoulders shudder at your praise, he was so easy to please in this particular headspace. You move his boxers down his quivering thighs, watching as his hole flutters eagerly. How bold was his body to assume you’d grace him with a toy tonight when this was his punishment?

With his underwear now out of the way, you spread his cheeks harshly, and spit dead-center. Robert lurches forward involuntarily, but you don’t reprimand him for it. He had bigger things to worry about controlling as you licked a stripe up his entrance. You heard a muffled groan from him and laughed as you continued to touch him in ways you’d never done before.

You grip tightly at his leaking hardness, beginning to inch your tongue slowly into him. Robert trembles slightly in your hand, and you grin as you lick inside. Beginning to pump him harshly, but slowly, his back arches into your touch. It was so painful, but so good.

He shakes as you touch him in such filthy ways, but he can’t deny the fact that this was the hardest he had ever been in his life. Every time your hand moves up and down, the flick of your wrist makes him feel closer and closer. This doesn’t go unnoticed by you as your tongue goes even deeper inside of Robert, his tightness doing nothing to stop you.

“Gonna come for me, big boy?” He hesitates before nodding vehemently, deciding not to risk making noise. “Better clean it up after, hm?”

Robert continues to nod as you increase your pace and kiss around his hole. He can’t handle the gentle yet dominant persona you suddenly took on, and he thrusts pathetically into your touch. His moans break through the thin barrier of your panties, desperate and submissive.

You grin as his hot release spills all over your fingers and the duvet, his hole clenching around nothing as you leave a biting kiss on his reddened cheek. Robert collapses onto the bed face-first with a groan, continuously shaking into his orgasm.

His sorry little movements had you kissing all over his cheeks down to the crook of his knees, “You did so good, Robert, so fucking good for me…”

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #kinktober 2023

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velvetbeeez · 2 hours ago

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౨ৎ. . .tℎe s𝑡o𝑝s w𝑖tℎi𝑛 𝑎n e𝑡e𝑟n𝑎l l𝑖f𝑒..౨ৎ

. . . . . . . .(୭ F A V O R I T E drs ! !)

𝜗𝜚. . . Narnia Dr

s/o.......Edmund the just

introduction ʚଓ the narnian court ʚଓ the nuptials

𝜗𝜚. . . Hogwarts dr

s/o.........Edmund Salazar Pevensie

introduction ʚଓ wand break down ʚଓ amortentia ʚଓ lover

𝜗𝜚. . .Dead Poets Society dr

s/o........Charlie Dalton

introduction ʚଓ moodboard ʚଓ what's in my bag?

𝜗𝜚. . .Vampire dr

s/o........Edmund the vampyr

introduction ʚଓ a blood stained letter

𝜗𝜚. . . The Umbrella Academy dr

introduction

𝜗𝜚. . .Better cr

S/o.........a boy from school (we call him fizz)

introduction

the rest of the road to go. . .

𝜗𝜚 Cowboy's wife dr

s/o, billy the kid...

where i am a rich heiress who eloped with the rugged outlaw, billy the kid. I have a babygirl with him, she is called Kat, short for Katherine

𝜗𝜚 The end of the fucking world dr

s/o, james (but less weirder more romantic...and i have a face claim for him)

just the netflix show the end of the fucking world but without the killing and the sa. Only road romance and delinquencies

𝜗𝜚 Marvel dr

s/o....loki laufeyson (idk how that will work but it will, idc about the timeline)

a girl with unrecognised and definitely not lethal powers runs away from home after being told she was more trouble than worth...later, found by shield and forged into a weapon.

𝜗𝜚 Basement Band dr

The Kult is a basement band started with as a joke by a group of teens. Who knew with a viral video on tiktok it would blow up like that?

𝜗𝜚 Fame dr

s/o.....young cillian murphy

an actress, a singer, a legend

𝜗𝜚 misfits

just the show misfits with me and my telekinesis powers

𝜗𝜚 Waiting room

A big maze like castle, with everything one could need. A dining table that chokes out meals at one command, a dressing room with every dress in the world, a portal room, a home theatre, a vast garden that abides mystical creatures, a lake that takes away all your worries, a bigger than life library and more...

𝜗𝜚 mermaid dr

s/o.....prince of england Edmund Pevensie

Salty kisses, moonlit escapes. A mermaid sauntering around the sea with no worries in the world. She can see the future and she can smell trouble from a ten miles distance.

𝜗𝜚 Outer banks dr

s/o.....Alex Nilsen

the beach, the sunsents, the vibes, the homies (no treasure hunt...maybe)

𝜗𝜚 rich wife dr

s/o.....fischer from inception

just a rich wife who only shops, parties and sleeps all day

𝜗𝜚 Beyblade dr

s/o....Kai Hiwatari

A beyblader whom no one can defeat

𝜗𝜚 Beyblade dr 2

s/o.....Shu Kurenai

working on . . .

Maze runner dr

stranger things dr

tiktok debater dr

royalty dr

tangled dr

before sunrise dr

twin peaks dr

gossip girl dr

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arconinternet · 1 month ago

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Castle Of Ert & Pyramid Of Ert (Classic Mac, Bert Fischer, 1987/1989)

You can play them in your browser here. Game interaction includes typing, clicking, and the Commands and Weapons menus. (Before playing either game, open the Apple Menu in the upper left, open Control Panels, open sound, and set the volume to at least 1, which is plenty loud.)

More versions of these games can be found here and here; they can be run on modern systems by following these instructions.

Download a .sit file from one of the two links above, then open this in-browser emulator.

When it's finished loading, drag the .sit file you downloaded onto the emulated desktop.

Open The Outside World, then Downloads, and open the file you'll find there. Ignore the error message that may appear.

If no new file appears afterward, close and re-open Downloads. Drag the new file into Uploads; your browser will soon download it in a .zip file.

Extract the .dsk or .img file from the .zip file, then close the in-browser emulator and open this one.

Drag the .dsk or .img file onto the emulated screen, open the icon that appears, navigate to the game version of your choice and play.

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asongofgoldenfireandblackblood · 3 months ago

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Greetings to everyone in our beloved, amazing, wonderful court! We hope you're all having a great start to your week, there have been some changes within our court so here are all our latest updates 💜

New members have joined our court! Please give them a warm welcome and follow:

@jason-lannister2005 @little-fawn-baratheon @leilathesongbird

The following roles and faceclaims are now taken:

Lord Jason Lannister of Casterly Rock Lady Meredyth Baratheon (youngest daughter of Lord Borros and Lady Elenda) Lady Leila Lannister (fourth daughter of Lord Jason and Lady Johanna)

Nikolai Coster-Waldau Millie Bobby Brown Caitlin Stasey

Due to player choice, inactivity, or other unforseen circumstances please wish farewell and unfollow:

@mahiraofdorne

The following roles and faceclaims are now open:

Ruler of House Dayne of Starfall

Madhuri Dixit

It seems the court has been corrected on its previous perceptions so please take note that:

Princess Rhaena Targaryen's blog name has changed to @the-pearl-of-the-realm Rodrik Greyjoy-Farman's blog name has changed to @the-fair-heir-of-fair-isle

Full member list under the cut!

~ With Love, Mod Ivory 💜💜

@black-queen-rising - Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen @the-lord-confessor - King-Consort Daemon Targaryen @aegontheyoungprince - Prince Aegon III Targaryen @princeviserystargaryen00 - Prince Viserys II Targaryen @thelittleprincesstargaryen - Princess Visenya Targaryen

@alicenthightowerrp - Dowager-Queen Alicent Hightower @goldaegontargaryen - Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone @helaenasdreamfyres - Princess Helaena Targaryen of Dragonstone @shrykosjaehaerys - Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen of Dragonstone @jaeheratargaryen - Princess Jaehaera Targaryen of Dragonstone

@thejacaerys - Crown-Prince Jacaerys Targaryen @bold-princess-baela - Crown-Princess Baela Targaryen @velaryon-targaryen - Prince Lucerys Velaryon @the-pearl-of-the-realm - Princess Rhaena Targaryen @princejoffreyvelaryon - Prince Joffrey Velaryon

@aemond-of-house-targaryen - Prince-Hand Aemond Targaryen @thefallenprincesss - Princess Rhaenya Targaryen-Stark @thedaringprince - Prince-Commander Daeron Targaryen

@rideroftheredqueen - Princess Rhaenys Targaryen-Velaryon @lordhusband - Lord Corlys Velaryon @ladyjocelynbaratheon - Lady Jocelyn Baratheon-Targaryen @littlevelaryon - Lady Daenaera Velaryon @sersteffondarklyn - Lord-Commander Steffon Darklyn

@lord-kermit-of-riverrun - Lord Kermit Tully @oscartullyofriverrun - Ser Oscar Tully @abby-the-writer - Lady Abby Tully

@vvilliamvance - Ser William Vance @ladylaceyvance - Lady Lacey Vance @tonameestbelle - Lady Jyanna Vance @lavender-cupbearer - Lady Violet Vance

@regentofhighgarden - Lady-Regent Alla Tyrell @lady-samantha-of-hightower - Lady Samantha "Sam" Hightower @garmundhightower - Ser Garmund Hightower @ladyoflongtable - Lady Bethany Merryweather

@jason-lannister2005 - Lord Jason Lanister @johannaoftherock - Lady Johanna Westerling-Lannister @sereneiii - Serenei Fischer @josswesterling - Joss Westerling

@cerellelannister2 - Lady Cerelle Lannister @tyshara-the-lioness - Lady Tyshara Lannister @sharp-lioness - Lady Cerissa Lannister @leilathesongbird - Lady Leila Lannister @little-lady-lioness - Lady Rosamund "Minnie" Lannister

@sirenalannysgreyjoy - Lady Alannys Greyjoy @thefairheiroffairisle - Rodrik Greyjoy-Farman @gysellablacktyde - Lady Gysella Blacktyde

@cassandra-of-baratheon - Lady Cassandra Baratheon @thecleverestorm - Lady Maris Baratheon @ellynbaratheon-ofstormsend - Lady Ellyn Baratheon @thefourthstormfloris - Lady Floris Baratheon @little-fawn-baratheon - Lady Meredyth Baratheon

@jeynearrynvale - Lady-Paramount Jeyne Arryn @cissy-grafton - Lady Cissy Grafton @robingrafton - Ser Robin Grafton @anya-royce - Lady Anya Royce

@creganstarkrp - Lord Cregan Stark @edrickofwinterfell - Edrick Stark @elaenasnows - Elaena Snow @benjen-mormont - Lord Benjen Mormont @lady-of-knives - Lady Berena Bolton

@theprincessofd0rne - Ruling-Princess Aliandra Martell @princesscoryofsunspear - Princess Coryanne Martell @pearl-of-dorne-obella - Princess Obella Martell

@doranyronwood - Lord Doran Yronwood @davos-allyrion - Lord Davos Allyrion @theheartofgodsgrace - Lady Kiera Allyrion

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is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not · 3 months ago

Text

Gabriel - WOLVES ON ICE

Location: Northern Boreal Zone, 300 km Northwest of Castle Erebor

Time: 04:52 GST, 20 September 3153

Operation: Final readiness drill—Joint Winter Warfare Exercise

The forests of Merdengard lay silent and ghostly beneath a blanket of snow, ancient conifers stretching like pale sentinels into the twilight sky. The dawn was still a whispered promise; stars lingered stubbornly above the horizon as if reluctant to cede ground to daybreak.

Hidden among the towering trees, nearly invisible beneath patterned layers of white and frost-blue camo, over five hundred BattleMechs moved with cautious, methodical purpose.

Inside the cockpit of his Kodiak, named Mánagarmr, Generalleutnant Margrave Gabriel Bisclavret von Thiess III keyed his comm, his deep voice rumbling calmly across the encrypted channel reserved for command officers.

"All units, this is Generalleutnant von Thiess. Stand by for exercise commencement. Confirm readiness."

Across dozens of comm channels, responses rolled back swiftly and clearly.

"Sixth Royals confirm, Generalleutnant," came Generalfeldmarschall Olivia von Arnsburg's authoritative tone, sharp and unwavering from inside her massive tripod Ares, named Fenrir’s Judgement. Her cerulean eyes flicked across sensor readouts, calm and calculating. "All battalions report green. Awaiting your command."

"Merdengard MTM Regiment is green across the board," replied Generalleutnant Markus Elst crisply. "Standing by."

Star Colonel Ze'ev Winson did not open his eyes—he had no need. Cocooned inside a sensory cradle, encased in his specialized suit of Elemental interface armor, he was one with his Skinwalker II. With enhanced imaging implants blazing softly against his pale skin, the heavy 'Mech’s sensors became his senses—its pulse laser barrels his hands, its armor plates his skin.

The line between warrior and machine was a dream—soft, pliable, indistinct.

"The Omega Provisional Cluster stands ready," Ze'ev's voice murmured, as even and regal as ever, though his lips barely moved inside the interface harness. "My warriors hunger for battle—even if it is only a simulation."

Gabriel acknowledged all, then switched smoothly to their private, intimate comm frequency.

"Everyone holding up well?" His voice softened imperceptibly, losing its martial edge.

"Nothing like cold morning air and imminent simulated carnage," came the wry reply from Leutnant Anika Dray aboard her lithe Wolfhound IIC, the famously unique Grinner – technically, it was Gabriel’s personal ‘Mech, but he had the sense to recognize it was best used as a combat asset, not a hangar queen. Her 'Mech shifted its weight from foot to foot, as eager and restless as its pilot. "Beats coffee."

"No, it does not," Olivia replied flatly, but her tone was touched by warmth.

From inside Gabriel’s comm suite, a voice interrupted gently. "Castle Erebor observing," Thalia Marten’s familiar voice filtered through clearly, a comforting anchor from far away. "You have my undivided attention. I will be taking notes, Gabriel. Try to impress me."

"I always do," Gabriel rumbled affectionately.

In hir Cyclops, nicknamed Bifrost, Stabshauptmann Eike Fischer adjusted a control slightly, glowing with tactical data flowing seamlessly through hir neural implants. Behind hir, Stabskorporal Kaia Erzberger sat tucked into the drone station, a cluster of tactile controls and monitors flickering with precise readiness.

"Confirming drone array ready, Margrave," Eike reported crisply, professional once more. Ze smiled faintly when Kaia’s hand brushed hir shoulder in silent, encouraging support.

Aboard Fenrir’s Judgement, Vizeleutnant Lyra Channing rapidly completed her last system checks. Her bubbly voice lit the crew channel. "Olivia, heat sinks optimal, weapons cycling beautifully. Veika?"

Oberstabsfeldwebel Veika Morr’s low voice, steady as stone, drifted down from her gunnery station. "Gauss and PPC capacitors at full readiness. All ordnance locked."

"Outstanding," Olivia murmured softly to them alone. "Your work is flawless, as always."

The brief moment of warmth ended as Gabriel’s powerful voice returned, a wave of calm authority washing over the line. "Commence Operation Snowblind. Advance to contact and execute training plan Gamma-One."

A symphony of affirmations flooded the channels as 'Mechs moved in perfect choreography through dense snow and ice-crusted forests.

From Castle Erebor’s command center, Thalia observed silently, her hands clasped behind her back, watching the holographic displays bloom with data. Her eyes lingered on the signals of her lovers. Each name a heartbeat, each heartbeat a loved one.

"Good hunting," she whispered, knowing they could not hear.

Back in the field, Gabriel watched his displays, content as the vast war machine of four separate commands rolled forward as one cohesive force.

"All elements," he intoned, voice deep and resonant, "begin combat maneuvers."

Dawn crept over the frosted forest, washing the landscape with pale shades of lavender and cold, metallic blue. Through the ghostly trees, tons of armor moved as softly as falling snowflakes—Star Colonel Ze’ev stalking forward, his motion eerily fluid, almost organic. Under the influence of the EI, he had ceased to consciously think of himself as separate from the great machine he piloted; he was his ‘Mech now—its limbs his own, its senses integrated seamlessly with his brain. Every subtle shift of armor plating, every twitch of the torso-mounted pulse lasers, felt as natural as breathing. To observers, the Skinwalker II moved effortlessly through the forest like a predator on the hunt.

A target flickered ahead—an enemy Mech from the opposing training group. Ze'ev smiled internally, the Skinwalker's targeting reticle shifting effortlessly. The opposing 'Mech pilot saw nothing, even at fifty meters. Ze'ev was the snow itself—silent, deadly, perfect camouflage in motion.

He opened a direct, private channel. "Sable, I am in position. Your move."

A soft chuckle drifted over the comm, warm and amused. "Copy that, Glowstick. Standby for chaos."

A blur of motion tore across the clearing—Grinner moving at lightning speed, jump jets flaring brightly through the mist. Her voice carried mischief. "Contact! Enemy lance in sector 3-Bravo. Marking targets."

Ze'ev felt her data tag appear instantly on his HUD. "Targets received. Thank you, Anika."

"Anytime," she purred back.

Further back, in the hulking form of his Kodiak, Gabriel keyed the main command channel. "All units, contacts at sector 3-Bravo. Execute plan Delta-Four."

Olivia responded without hesitation. "Sixth Royals, engage targets at maximum simulated range. Oberstabsfeldwebel Morr, fire pattern Sigma."

From the elevated gunner's seat in Fenrir’s Judgement, Veika's steady voice replied: "Confirmed, Generalfeldmarschall. Sigma locked, gauss up. On the way."

Veika’s whisper-soft Old German mantra floated gently across their internal comm. Olivia’s mouth curved slightly in appreciation. Veika did not miss.

"Bifrost, sensor sweep and drone advance," Gabriel ordered.

Eike’s fingers danced elegantly over hir consoles. Behind hir, Kaia bent forward, immersed in tactile drone controls, her amber eyes intent. "Deploying UAV flight now," she murmured, leaning forward so her warmth pressed lightly against Eike’s shoulder. "Scanning sectors three through six."

Eike smiled faintly. "Well done, Kaia. Good eyes."

The drones launched smoothly from Bifrost’s dorsal pods, gliding gracefully above the trees, relaying visual data streams directly into Kaia’s helmet. She exhaled softly, feeling the gentle thrill of connection—the birds were her senses now, her extended hands and eyes.

"Multiple OpFor clusters identified," Kaia confirmed calmly. "Sending tactical overlays to all units."

At Castle Erebor, Thalia watched the data streams blend effortlessly onto the main holotank. Her heart swelled quietly with pride.

Ze'ev took Kaia’s data, weaving it instinctively into his own view. He shifted silently through a gap in the trees, almost invisible, pulse lasers aligning. The Skinwalker’s torso twisted gracefully, fluid and predatory—exactly mirroring Ze'ev’s subtle body movements.

A perfect extension of himself.

A brilliant volley of simulated energy pulses flashed across the snow, tagging the enemy BattleMech with virtual hits. The target stopped dead, signal lights flashing—simulation-confirmed kill.

"Kill registered," Ze’ev murmured calmly, as if discussing the weather.

Gabriel’s voice filled his ear. "Excellent shot, Ze’ev."

"Thank you, Gabriel."

Lyra’s bubbly tone came through Olivia’s internal comm from Fenrir’s Judgement's technical station. "All systems green, Liv. Heat nominal, energy reserves optimal. And that was one sexy gauss shot, Veika."

Veika, deadpan, replied simply: "Thank you, Lyra."

Olivia allowed herself a small, fond smile at their quiet camaraderie. "Maintain focus," she said evenly. "There are still more targets."

Anika’s cheerful voice crackled back in comms. "Gabriel, I've stirred up the hive. Four hostiles in pursuit. Leading them to your position—hope you're feeling sociable."

Gabriel's rumbling chuckle resonated through everyone's speakers. "We are ready for guests, Leutnant Dray."

From behind the lines, Markus Elst’s voice broke in respectfully. "MTM Regiment deploying screening units. Confirming your perimeter secure, Margrave."

"Excellent, Markus," Gabriel acknowledged warmly.

Eike opened a private comm to Gabriel. "They are adapting quickly. Better than expected."

"They know what is at stake," Gabriel replied. "Good. We must be sharp for TOUCHDOWN."

The morning deepened, the sky brightening to a hard, crisp blue. The battlefield simulation intensified, the combined forces flowing seamlessly through drills, maneuvers, and combat scenarios that tested their limits.

In the Cyclops cockpit, Kaia’s voice was tender, intimate in Eike’s ear. "Are you enjoying yourself, love?"

Eike smiled, unseen by anyone else. "More now than ever."

In Fenrir's Judgement, Lyra laughed softly. "Liv, remind me after this to give you a proper victory kiss."

"Do not distract me, Lyra," Olivia replied—voice stern, eyes sparkling warmly.

Gabriel watched the holomap thoughtfully, a calm satisfaction settling over him. They were ready, and he was proud. His warriors—his loves—were ready for what was coming. He keyed their private polycule channel, voice low and steady, filled with quiet authority and affection.

"Well done, everyone. Now finish strong."

At last, the pale dawn had fully broken, flooding Icefall Ridge with crystalline radiance. The ridge itself—a massive, ice-glazed stone formation—rose sharply from the forest, crowned by an SLDF-built mock fortress shimmering with frost and sunlight.

Gabriel’s Kodiak paused just behind the treeline, its arctic camouflage perfectly masking its massive bulk. He studied the simulated fortress on his monitors carefully. His deep voice cut gently but firmly through command comms.

"All units, we have reached final objective: Icefall Ridge. Prepare assault formations."

A chorus of disciplined acknowledgments flowed back. His focus narrowed, assessing the disposition of friendly and opposing forces.

Olivia’s voice sounded first, calm and precise. "Sixth Royals confirm artillery simulation ready. Awaiting command to initiate suppressive barrage."

"Hold for my order," Gabriel said.

"Confirmed, Generalleutnant."

Eike’s softer tones came next, quick and composed. "Drone flights confirm enemy strength and positioning. Uploading now."

Instantly, detailed tactical overlays appeared on Gabriel’s holomap. He nodded slightly in satisfaction. "Exceptional work."

Inside Bifrost’s cockpit, Eike turned slightly and squeezed Kaia’s hand. "Well done, Kaia."

Kaia leaned forward warmly. "My pleasure. I have your back, love."

Ze’ev’s Skinwalker II paused effortlessly, seemingly melting into the pale woodland backdrop. Within his EI harness, Ze'ev breathed slowly, feeling every centimeter of terrain, every pulse of his ‘Mech’s lasers as extensions of his own being.

"Gabriel," Ze’ev murmured gently over their private channel, "The Omega Cluster is positioned for a flanking assault. Awaiting your order."

Gabriel smiled softly at the familiar voice. "Stand ready, Ze’ev."

Anika’s Wolfhound crouched nearby, sleek and poised for motion. "Gabriel, I’m good to go," she teased lightly. "Say the word and they’ll never see me coming."

"Patience, Anika," Gabriel chuckled gently.

In Fenrir’s Judgement, Olivia spoke evenly: "Veika, Lyra, confirm final status."

Lyra’s voice was bright, cheerful even amidst tension. "Heat and power stable, Liv. Fenrir’s ready to pounce."

Veika whispered her mantra softly, then calmly replied: "Weapons locked and steady."

Olivia inclined her head slightly. "Good. Stand ready."

Gabriel took one final breath, visualizing the battle’s flow, then opened the full command channel. "All units—commence objective assault."

Staring out of the cockpit at the enemy's defensive line, Olivia’s voice cracked sharp and clear, on a comm line to the artillery battalion in the rear: "Hateful, this is Ice Queen, fire mission, over."

"Ice Queen, this is Hateful, fire mission, out," responded the Fire Direction Center.

"Grid 347 689, over."

"Grid 347 689, out."

"'Mechs, two companies, in the open. Danger Close. ICM, over."

"'Mechs, two companies, in the open. Danger Close. ICM, out."

There was a pause of several seconds before the FDC responded: "Message to observer, T, ICM, ten rounds, target number AA 7732, over."

"Message to observer, T, ICM, ten rounds, target number AA 7732, out," echoed Olivia. Then she waited. Waited to hear the word that would announce the-

"Shot, over."

"Shot, out." Olivia imagined the thumping of the great Long Tom guns, dozens of kilometers behind her, as they sung their war-song and filled the air with cluster rounds.

Seconds ticked by.

"Splash, over." Five seconds until impact.

"Splash, out."

Five seconds later, dozens of simulated artillery submunitions exploded vividly across the ridge’s forward slope, bathing Icefall Ridge in harmless flashes of holographic fire. Olivia gauged the simulated fall of the single round.

It was perfect. She smiled.

"On target, fire for effect, over."

"On target, fire for effect, out."

"Shot, over."

"Shot, out."

"Splash, over."

"Splash, out."

Five seconds later, the entire ridgeline seemed to completely disappear under the weight of thousands of detonating submunitions.

Olivia transmitted back to the fire direction center. "End of mission, ten 'Mechs destroyed, estimate 150 additional casualties, over.”

At the moment Olivia finished her final transmission, Gabriel surged forward, his Kodiak lumbering into the open with unstoppable momentum.

"All Grenadiers, follow my advance!" he commanded, voice like thunder.

The 1st Merdengard Grenadiers, disciplined and fluid, broke cover with fierce, coordinated precision.

"Bifrost," Gabriel instructed, "Maintain sensor coverage."

Eike’s Cyclops moved steadily, protective at Gabriel’s flank. "Understood, Generalleutnant."

Kaia’s fingers glided across her interface, guiding drones high above. "Enemies scattering," she relayed calmly. "They're confused. We have an opening."

"Ze’ev, Anika—now!" Gabriel called sharply.

The Omega Provisional Cluster and Anika’s Wolfhound erupted from concealment in perfect synchronization. Ze'ev’s Skinwalker moved like a living predator, pulses of virtual laser fire cutting enemy formations into chaos. Anika darted swiftly, effortlessly weaving through simulated enemy fire, harassing heavier ‘Mechs.

Ze’ev murmured softly on their private channel, "You dance beautifully today, Anika."

"Only because I have a good partner, Glowstick," she laughed back warmly.

In Fenrir’s Judgement, Veika targeted calmly, methodically disabling enemy targets with pinpoint simulated accuracy. Lyra tracked system diagnostics, her voice singing out technical data joyfully. Olivia’s steady commands guided her forces forward, her voice crisp, authoritative, powerful.

Gabriel’s Kodiak crashed through the last enemy position at the foot of Icefall Ridge, stopping briefly to survey the fortress above. He keyed his mic again, triumphant but controlled: "Secure the ridge. Final wave—advance!"

Ze’ev’s mind and ‘Mech flowed together, effortlessly graceful, a storm of fluid steel and purpose. His Skinwalker crested the ridge first, sensors painting targets, Ze'ev dispatching them as easily as breathing.

"Suppress eastern fortifications," Olivia ordered as she lumbered the Ares forward at its somewhat stately flank speed.

"Understood," Veika answered softly, firing carefully, precisely.

Lyra laughed cheerily, relaying data: "Fenrir’s eating this up, Liv!"

Olivia’s lips curled in subtle pride. "Outstanding."

Within twenty minutes, the ridge fell silent. All simulated enemy indicators faded to neutral green. Eike exhaled softly into hir comm. "Objective secured. Bifrost confirms no active threats."

"Castle Erebor confirms successful capture," Gabriel’s voice intoned, warm with pride. "Exercise complete. Excellent work, everyone." He paused, looking down from atop Icefall Ridge, watching the dozens of reserve OPFOR 'Mechs stand down. He opened the private channel between himself and his lovers, his voice deeply tender:

"My loves, you did beautifully."

A chorus of warm, private murmurs came back instantly:

"Of course we did," Anika teased.

"Flawless," Kaia purred softly, her voice warm against Eike’s ear.

"With all of you, always," Olivia’s voice was steady, proud, intimate.

Ze’ev’s quiet voice gently joined last. "Together."

Gabriel nodded once, slowly, a quiet pride settling deep within his heart.

"Together," he echoed softly. "Always."

#battletech #mechwarrior #operation touchdown #merdengard

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