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multific · 1 month ago

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Through Smoke and Shadows

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: Thomas Shelby’s nights are haunted by ghosts of the war, his past clawing at his throat like smoke from a battlefield. You are the only one who can soothe him.

The first time you hear him scream, it’s a sound that shatters the night.

Your eyes snap open in the darkness of the bedroom, heart hammering as you turn toward him.

Thomas is tangled in the sheets, sweat beading at his brow despite the chill in the air. His face is twisted, teeth bared in a silent war with the demons that have followed him home from France.

“Tommy,” you whisper, touching his arm. He flinches violently, eyes snapping open, wide and unfocused.

For a moment, he’s not here. He’s in the trenches. He’s surrounded by mud and blood, the stench of death thick in the air.

And then, his gaze lands on you.

His breath becomes irregular like he’s just surfaced from drowning.

You reach out again, softer this time, letting your fingers brush his cheek.

“It’s me,” you murmur. “You’re home.”

Thomas exhales sharply, his body collapsing into itself. He runs a trembling hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes as though trying to scrub away the images that linger.

You don’t ask what he saw. He never tells you anyway.

Instead, you pull him into your arms, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath his ribs. His body is tense, always bracing for another attack, another fight.

He doesn’t cry. He never cries. But in the quiet of the night, wrapped in your arms, you feel the weight of his silence like a stone pressed against your chest.

The nightmares never stop.

They come like clockwork, leaving him breathless and shaking.

And when the morning sun rises, Thomas drowns it all in whiskey.

“You’re drinking earlier now,” you remark one morning, watching him pour a glass before he’s even touched his breakfast.

He doesn’t look at you. “It helps.”

“With what?”

His jaw tenses, his fingers tightening around the glass. “With everything.”

You cross the room, placing a gentle hand over his. “You don’t have to do this alone, Tommy.”

He pulls away as if your touch burns him. “I already do.”

The words sting, but you refuse to let them cut too deep.

You know him. You know his sharp edges and the way he keeps everyone at arm’s length, even those he loves.

Especially those he loves.

“You think I don’t see it?” you ask, voice steady. “The way you wake up gasping for air, the way you bury yourself in work so you don’t have to think? The way you drink yourself numb so you don’t feel anything at all?”

Thomas exhales slowly, staring down into the amber liquid in his glass. “And what would you have me do, eh?” he says, voice quiet, almost broken. “Tell you every bloody thing I saw? Every man I buried? Every scream I still hear when I close my eyes?”

“No,” you whisper. “I just want you to let me in.”

His shoulders slump, the weight of his ghosts pressing down on him. For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, in a movement so small you almost miss it, he reaches out. His fingers brush against yours, hesitant, uncertain.

A silent offering.

A plea for something he doesn’t know how to ask for.

You take his hand.

It doesn’t happen overnight.

Thomas is not a man who heals easily. He still drinks too much, still buries himself in business and cigarettes, and still wakes up in the dead of night with shadows clawing at his throat.

But slowly, something shifts.

One night, when the nightmares come, he doesn’t pull away. He lets you hold him, lets your fingers thread through his hair, grounding him.

One morning, he reaches for coffee instead of whiskey.

One evening, as the fire crackles in the home, he takes your hand in his and holds it without saying a word.

And one day, when the ghosts come whispering, he turns to you instead of the bottle.

It’s not a perfect love.

It’s messy, tangled with pain and fear and too many unspoken words. But it’s real.

And for the first time in a long time, Thomas Shelby lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, the war inside him doesn’t have to be fought alone.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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clovdgyu · 4 months ago

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#rafayel x m!reader #smut, fluff #the new lds memories seriously has me in a chokehold. so i made this

#hard and vanilla sex, friends to lovers trope, rafayel is possessed by an incubus, unprotected sex, creampie, rafayel moans a lot, lore-wise rafayel which means he has two dicks (i mean he's a lemurian and a mermaid so...), i'd like to think ebb day is when rafayel becomes in heat lol, foreplay, some mild choking, rafayel's scales hehe, pet names, a bit of blackmail and manipulation, some kind of DUBCON, overstimulation, double penetration, cockdrunk reader, belly bulge

your eyes turned to look at the other male who suddenly dropped down to the floor, placing a hand on his head as he held onto the chair for support. "rafayel! are you okay?" you asked the other male who was whining at the pain.

you looked at him with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. you hummed in panic, thinking of a solution before deciding to get him a glass of water. "fuck. you should've told me you needed to go to the ocean or whatever. let me start a bath for you."

just as you were about to give it to him, the moment you turned around, you were surprised when you saw him just looking down at you. in your shock, you accidentally dropped the cup and spilled the water.

"rafayel? are you finally doing okay? sit down," you told him, guiding him towards the sofa but was stopped when he held onto your arm and pulled you towards him. "wh--raf? what is this?"

the purple-haired male smirked and looked into your eyes, using his other hand to trace along the line of your lips. "hm? and who do we have here? can i have the honor in knowing your name, pretty boy?"

the confusion was evident in your eyes as you tilted your head to the side, thinking the other male was just making fun of you. "what the hell? cut this out, rafayel. it's me, m/n," you answered, looking up at the other male. "what is with this strength? were lemurians usually this strong?"

a curious and mischievous glint in his eyes made you gulp. "m/n, huh? you must be the guy he—" all of a sudden, he slapped himself which surprised you, "--you goddamn psycho, get out of my body!"

what the hell is going on? you thought to yourself as you looked at the other male who was...talking to himself? slapping his face over and over until his cheeks were red. deciding to end this madness, you shouted, "stop! can you just tell me what the hell is going on here? and why are you hurting yourself?"

rafayel let out heavy breaths as he looked at you before removing his arms from you and moved towards the sofa which made you follow him unconsciously. as you two sat down, he began to talk, "i am an incubus."

you let out a scoff. "uh huh, yeah. and i'm thomas. now stop with this pranks," you said. you were just about to move away but realized you weren't able to move. "what-"

"i'm serious. i indulge in the desires and pleasures of any men i see and unfortunately, this man has suppressed feelings," he stated, pointing at himself then smirked as if to say he was confident with something. "which is why i will help him."

"help him? why?" you asked him, confused.

the incubus (in rafayel's form) let out a sigh as he crossed his legs. "because he's currently in the verge of death. if he gets no action tomorrow, he's bound to die," he told you, making you confused yet again.

he pointed towards the calendar and saw that the next day was encircled red. that's when it hits you. "ah...it's ebb day. but he's always survived on his own. was it actually killing him? i never knew," you asked him.

his demeanor changed yet again before he shook his head and looked at you with a frown. "m/n, don't believe a word this demon says. i will be fine."

"fine, my ass! you'll die for fuck's sake. now, m/n, you wouldn't want that, won't you?" the demon told you, looking at you expectantly. it was obvious you were debating, looking at how you nibbled on your lip and eyes were practically quivering.

you let out a sigh before nodding. "alright. i'll help him."

the next day, as you expected, rafayel was heating up and you were there to help him. "wh-what the fuck, dude? this hurts as fuck," the incubus stuttered as he held onto his stomach.

you were already in your robes, ready to give yourself to your lemurian friend. "rafayel, i'm ready," you told him, the other male looking at you with hazy eyes as he sat up weakly.

you got on the bed and crawled yourself towards him, straddling him as you place your hands on his shoulders, blushing. "j-just so you know, this will only happen every ebb day a-and...this is my first time. i've never been on the receiving end."

a simple hum was heard from the other male before he moved to lean his head onto you neck, taking in your sweet scent, placing small kisses as he moved along your neck. you covered your mouth with one hand, stifling your moans.

"don't stop yourself from letting out those sounds, sweetie. i want to hear you," the incubus stated as he pulled you closer towards him, slowly grinding his erect dick onto your--wait, why were you feeling two dicks?

"what's..." you voiced out, pulling back before looking down at him.

he let out a deep chuckle as he looked up at you. "guess he has two dicks. didn't quite expect that as well," he stated before going back to your neck. "you smell so fucking good."

you were just about to protest but then you felt his hand adjust your robe to get your leaking cock out and began jerking you off. "w-wait, i haven't touched myself in a while. i-i might cum easily," you told him, but he didn't do anything, instead he continued his assault on your neck.

he jerked you off as he moved to the other side of your neck, placing love bites and hickeys as he did. "r-rafayel," you called out to him, hands latching onto the other male's hair. "i-if you keep doing that, i-i might--"

"you can cum as much as you like."

rafayel's voice near your ears was like hearing the symphony of the angels, quite ironic. "oh god," you let out, pulling him closer as you began to buck your hips, fucking yourself into his hand.

he let out an amused chuckle as he jerked you off in rhythm, trying to make you cum. "what a needy bitch. do you really want to cum that badly, huh?" he stated, using his thumb to tease the head of your cock that was already leaking pre-cum.

your moans began to grow louder. getting conscious of it, you buried yourself in the other male's neck as you stifled your moans, biting on your bottom lip.

"what did i tell you, hon?" he stated, stopping his movements as he looked at you, earning him a whine from you.

"wh-why'd you stop? i was just about to cum," you complained, brows furrowed as you looked down at him.

the purple-haired male only chuckled as he grinned, placing a kiss on your cheek before he whispered, "just let those pretty moans out, baby boy. it'd feel better that way, trust me."

then, he began to jerk you off once again. his hand was so big that it practically engulfed your whole cock and it made you feel so good. your toes curled at the pleasure as the once denied climax began to crash into you again. "ah fuck! oh my--rafayel, i'm gonna cum."

the man nodded as he placed kisses all over your neck, licking and biting as his hand began to jerk you off faster. "cum for me, m/n. do it."

and just like that, you let out a pleasured cry as you threw your head back, cumming on the other man's hand and splattering some on his toned stomach. "a-ah! cumming..!"

rafayel continued to jerk you off, slowing down once you came down from your high. "that felt good now, did it?" he asked you which you answered with a nod. he let out a chuckle before he let out a pained whine.

"r-rafayel? are you okay?" you asked him.

and then all of a sudden you found yourself beneath him, pinned down on his king-size bed. the usual soft and calm look on rafayel's eyes were replaced with something else. as if he has finally snapped and had enough. "fuck, you're just too sexy."

all you could do was stare up at the other male as he stared down at you, wanting to devour you right then and there. "a-are we...gonna do it?"

cute. rafayel thought as he roamed his eyes around your body, undoing the robe's belt and finally seeing you in your naked glory. "shit. so delectable," he murmured to himself before leaning down, latching his lips onto your nipples.

the suddenness made you flinch (in a good way), placing your hands onto his hair. "th-that tickles—ah! w-wait," you cried out. rafayel, wanting to hear more of you, began to jerk you off once again as he prodded his middle finger against your hole, using your own cum as lube. "no! r-rafayel, i just came!"

"i know you can still cum for me, sweetie. i need to get you ready for my cocks," he said before taking your nipples into his mouth again, licking and biting before moving to the other.

the pleasure was too much for you to handle, it was far too overwhelming. not a second later, the other male inserted his finger inside your hole which made you yelp. "relax, m/n."

you followed his instructions, but all you could focus on was rafayel's mouth on your nipples and his hand that was jerking your hard cock. "r-rafayel. oh fuck," you moaned out, pulling on his hair as he gave you the pleasure you needed.

it took you a moment before you realized that scales were showing on his body. you touched them unconsciously, earning you a hiss. that made you flinch before looking up at him, eyes teary and hazy. "you're seriously turning me on. no wonder this man likes you a lot."

what?

you weren't even given a second to ponder what he just said as he finally entered a second finger, his fingers pistoning inside your hole, preparing you for his big cocks.

rafayel's lips moved up, towards your collarbone, towards your neck then back down onto your chest. he knew how to make you feel so good. as he continued his assault on your nipples and his hand on your cock, he continued to finger your ass.

your moans began to grow louder in volume. "rafayel, it feels—agh!" you let out a yelp, clenching onto the purple-haired male's fingers as he hit a certain spot inside you. "th-that felt strange."

the lemurian smirked as he used his tongue to flick your nipples over and over, the ticklish yet pleasurable feeling making you moan louder. "this?" he asked you before pressing on that same spot again.

this made you throw your head back, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your eyes practically twitched. "quit it! p-pressing on it...ah!"

rafayel heeded no mind to your protests as he pressed onto your prostate ever now and then. he inserted another finger whoch makes it three. he hummed, "you're taking my fingers quite well, m/n. am i making you feel good?"

the question made your mind go haywire as you tried to answer, but all you could do was nod. his fingers were quite long and it could reach the perfect spots inside you which drove you crazy. "use your big boy words, hon."

damn, how can someone be so alluringly sexy yet soft at the same time. you gulped, "y-yes. it feels good."

"that's good to hear," he stated before he began to finger your hole faster, making your toes curl in pleasure. the pleasure on your nipples, cock, and ass was all too overwhelming.

your moans became ragged as you neared your climax. but just as you were about to cum, rafayel stopped whatever he was doing and pulled away, smirking. a whine escaped your lips as you looked at him, watery eyes and cheeks warm. "why do you keep stopping when i'm about to cum."

"cause it's fun tormenting you. and you would probably be asleep by the time we're done here since you're tired," he stated, but you just glared at him.

the other male placed his hands beside your head, looking down at you. "i guess you're finally ready," rafayel stated as he leaned back, using one hand to jerk his two dicks. the size alone was enough to scare you.

"th-that's going inside me? that'll never fit, rafayel. it's too big," you tried to reason with him, hut all he did was growl as he rolled his eyes. "did you just roll your eyes at me?"

he just hummed as he lined his cock towards your hole yet you kept pulling away. fed up, he growled and placed a hand on your neck, choking you. "do you want him to die or not?" he asked.

you shook your head in response. "no...i can't do that," you answered, but sighed as you looked up at him. "fine, just do it slowly."

the other male let out a whispered 'good' before he held onto his cock, slowly entering. you were just about to tell him something but he suddenly inserted his whole cock in. this made your cry out in pleasure, cumming on the spot at how his cock brushed against your prostate.

"fuck! relax, sweetie. you're gonna snap my dick off," he stated, basking in the pleasure of seeing you make a mess of yourself, blabbering and all as you threw your head back, gripping the sheets tightly as your curled your toes and arched your body.

rafayel's eyes turned manic as he placed his hands on your hips, groaning at your tight heat. "shit, you feel so good, m/n," he said as he thrusted inside you harshly, wanting to see you writhe and quiver in pleasure.

the other male leaned down towards you, placing hickeys and love bites on your neck. you let out loud moans which rafayel loved. you placed your hands onto his back, scratching it out of pleasure, eyes rolling back.

"oh, fuck! your ass feels so fucking good, babe. taking me so well," he stated out as he threw his head back, fucking you with no remorse. you buried your nose into his neck, trying to bite back your moans as you engulfed the man in your embrace.

this obviously annoyed the other male as he placed a hand under your chin, making you face him. "what did tell you about holding in your moans, babe? i want to hear you."

"i-it's embarrassing," you answered him, feeling your cheeks warm up.

the man chuckled, amused. "i like hearing them, m/n. moan for me, please?" rafayel pleaded, placing his hands back onto your hips as he began to fuck you once again.

you nodded at him, but still stifled your moans. wanting to hear more of you, he began to jerk you off and he thinks you liked being jerked off cause the moment he did, you began to whimper and moan so loudly. "yes, just like that, baby. let those pretty noises out."

his thrusts gradually increased in speed, placing his arms by the pit of your leg, pushing them towards you into a mating press. "fuck, you feel so good, m/n. i've wanted this for so long. shit, ah."

rafayel's voice became louder as he pistoned his cock inside you, reaching deep inside you with every thrust. his cock consistently brushed against your prostate perfectly, not failing to make you moan every time he pushed his hips towards you.

the sound of your skins slapping against each other reverberated throughout his whole bedroom, your cries and his moans filled the entire area as well. you could practically hear the squelching sound your hole produced every time he thrusted hard inside you.

rafayel leaned down, placing his forehead against yours before placing his lips on yours. you weren't new to kissing but this obviously shocked you. nevertheless, you responded to his kiss as you pulled him closer towards you.

the other male grinned mischievously as he stuck his tongue inside your mouth, exploring the wet cavern. rafayel swallowed your pleasured moans, groaning as he sucked on your tongue, swirling his own wet muscle with it.

his hands moved towards your chest, playing with your erect nipples, making you cry out, gripping hard onto his hair as he played with them, flicking and twisting them.

"fuck," he cursed out as he removed his lips on yours, some saliva dripping down from your lips at the heated makeout session. you wondered why he stopped but you were rid of your questions once you noticed how he let go of your legs and changed your positions without pulling out.

your back was now turned towards him and now you were on all fours. rafayel chuckled as he landed a slap on your ass, liking the way it jiggled. "so fucking hot," he stated as he began moving again, using one hand to hold onto your hip. "you ready for cock number two, sweetie?" he asked.

you didn't know what to answer since you were already to drunk on his cock to even think about anything, blabbering nonsense and something about 'cumming'. taking that as a yes, he lined his second cock against your hole as he stopped moving before pushing all the way in.

the sudden intrusion made you cry out in pleasure as you threw your head back, cumming yet again for the third time that day. "n-no..wh-why...hurts.." you muttered out as your arms gave out, involuntarily sticking your ass up towards him.

"it'll feel good in a moment. okay, m/n?" rafayel assured you as he sheathed his cocks inside your stretched hole. he let out a breathy moan as he threw his head back, feeling even better now that both his cocks were inside your warm hole. "hah, you feel so fucking good, baby."

you adjusted to his cock as you fisted on the sheets. not a while later, he began to pummel your ass needily, moaning out as his cheeks were now tinted in red. "g-good...ah.." you moaned out.

suddenly, rafayel leaned his body down towards you, placing an arm around your neck before pulling you up with him. the position made rafayel's cock reach deeper inside you which got you a moaning mess, throwing your head back as you clenched your fists.

“m-my stomach, no…!” you cried out as the other male reached out a hand and pressed against the bulge on your stomach, pressing down which got you cumming again. “n-no more…fuck! i c-cant cum anymore,” you said, but it was as if he was drunk in pleasure and paid no attention to your protests.

instead, he turned your head and kissed you, choking you with his strong arm while using the other one to keep you both steady. your sweaty bodies mingled with each other, the pleasure making your eyes roll and your cock twitch back to life. you were already too tired at this point.

rafayel's thrusts grew faster and harder, moans getting louder as he held you closer, as if wanting to fuse his body with you. the scales that appeared on his body grew in number as he felt his own climax come to him. “fuck, i'm about to cum, m/n. can I cum inside you, baby? please?” he said, hugging you tightly as he placed soft kisses down on your shoulders.

as you were nearing your own release again, rafayel jerked you once again so you two could cum together. this made you cry out as tears finally dripped down from your eyes at the overstimulation. “rafayel!” you moaned out his name, holding onto his biceps that was around your neck.

rafayel nodded as he gritted his teeth, veins pulsating as he thrusted faster and harder inside you, hitting your prostate spot-on, jerking your cock off in the same rhythm. “cum for me, m/n. fuck, m/n. i'm cumming!”

“m-me too,” you announced, turning your head to kiss the other male who was already waiting for your lips. then your lips parted as you both chased your climax.

with one final thrust, rafayel came inside of you, biting down on your shoulder while you squirted all over the white sheets. “t-tired..” was all you could mutter as you fell asleep in the other male's embrace.

“i hope he's fine. i think i overdid it,” you heard someone say then a rather deeper voice was heard as well.

“well, when are you planning to tell him about this whole shenanigans?” the other male asked as he looked at your state.

rafayel bit his lip out of guilt before he sighed and looked at the demon. “the moment he wakes up, i will tell him everything.”

“tell me what?”

your voice made the two scream out in surprise, looking at each other then back at you. they watched as you blinked your eyes open, then sat up, using your hand to rub your eyes awake. “rafayel? who is he?” you asked, once you finally saw the stranger beside him.

“the demon that possessed him. nice to meetcha. i'll be on my way then, tata!” the incubus stated before he disappeared, leaving you and rafayel alone together.

the purple-haired male turned to look at you and held your hands, checking on your stature first. “are you alright? nothing hurts, does it? i got a bit carried away, sorry,” he asked.

“i'm fine, rafayel. it felt good honestly and thanks for cleaning me up. i got too tired and passed out. if anything I should be the one asking you if you're alright,” you stated, a smile on your lips as you adjusted the blanket draped on you.

rafayel mentally prepared himself before finally blurting out his feelings towards you, not wanting to regret not telling you. “i like you, m/n. ever since we met back then. it was love at first sight and I just couldn't let go of you, I needed you,” he started.

"i wanted to treasure you and the moment i found out you were into men, i got so hyped up. i decided to make you my best friend slash bodyguard. but along with it, my feelings grew stronger. to the point where i wanted to defile your body."

he looked into your eyes, fearing that you'd hate him once you finally found put the truth. "i could never bring myself to do that, and so, i decided to summon an incubus to help me get the courage i needed to touch you. i'm sorry."

once he was done, you let out a laugh before looking at him, wiping a stray tear away. "you mean you were holding back? damn, you liked me that much? you're seriously cute and funny."

"what? no violent reactions?"rafayel asked, confused. but all he heard from you was a simple 'nope'. "shouldn't you be mad at me?"

you smiled. "if you knew i was into, why haven't you asked me out yet?"

"i didn't know if i was your type. what if i--"

"dude! you're a famous painter, tall, handsome, has constant moodswings, and did i mention your two dicks? who wouldn't want you, rafayel?" you stated, making the man in front of you blush, embarrassed. "so, when are you gonna ask me out?"

"will you really go out with me?" rafayel asked shyly.

you scoffed at him hitting his shoulder. "stop acting so coy. as if you haven't rearranged my guts earlier. now why don't we get breakfast, hm?" rafayel smiled before letting out a chuckle. "you're right. let's."

#male reader #x male reader #m!reader #bottom male reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x male reader #love and deepspace x male reader #love and deepspace rafayel x male reader #gay #smut

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babsharrison · 7 months ago

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Shadows and Sunlight - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem! Reader

Summary: In Small Heath, you navigate the challenges of motherhood while your husband, Thomas Shelby, becomes increasingly absorbed in his dangerous world. A tense encounter forces him to confront his priorities, leading to a pivotal change in their family dynamic.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I love Tommy so much that I had to write a fic about him 😭.

It was a quiet night in Small Heath, but inside the Shelby house, the atmosphere was tense.

You looked out the living room window, watching the shadows stretch as the sun set. In your lap, your daughter slept peacefully, her tiny fingers clutching a piece of cloth while a soft smile danced on her face. Listening to the gentle sound of her breathing brought you joy, but also a sadness that was building in your heart.

Thomas, your husband, had been distant. Over the past few months, he had become increasingly absorbed in his business, and the life of crime seemed to be consuming the man you loved. What once was a strong and caring partner was now a shadow, often absent and lost in worries you couldn’t comprehend.

The house, once filled with laughter, now echoed with Thomas's absence.

He had come home late the night before, with the familiar dark look in his eyes. Your little one, only a few months old, was starting to sense the difference in her father. When he wasn’t around, she would cry as if she felt his absence, and that broke your heart.

That night, as you rocked your daughter to sleep, you decided it was time to confront Thomas. The weight of his absence was becoming unbearable, and you could no longer ignore what was happening.

When Thomas finally came home, the moonlight illuminated his tired face. He seemed to carry the world on his shoulders.

“Where have you been?” you asked, trying to hide the worry in your voice.

“Business,” he replied, his voice low and distant.

You saw the internal struggle in his eyes, a mix of anger and pain. It was clear that Thomas was battling invisible demons, but that didn’t absolve him of his responsibilities as a father and husband.

“You can’t keep doing this, Tommy. You’re pushing us away. Your daughter needs you,” your voice faltered, the pain becoming visible.

He closed his eyes, a moment of vulnerability you rarely witnessed. When he opened them, determination was there, but so was a deep sadness.

“I do this for you. To make sure you’re safe,” he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace.

From that moment on, things didn’t improve.

Thomas grew more reserved, and you found yourself struggling to care for your baby alone, trying to be a strong and loving mother. The emptiness in the house echoed the silence of your life, and you began to fear that Thomas was losing the battle against the world surrounding him.

One night, as you tried to calm your daughter, the doorbell rang. Your heart raced, and a chill ran down your spine. Opening the door, you found a man with a dark expression and eyes as cold as steel.

“Where is Thomas Shelby?” he asked, his voice low and threatening.

Fear surged within you, and an icy panic took over your body. The man was not just a presence; he was a warning of the dangerous world surrounding your family.

Before you could think to shut the door, he pushed it open, causing you to stumble and fall to the floor.

Your heart raced as you crawled backward, looking up at him with wide eyes. He was too close, the smell of tobacco and alcohol filling the air.

“Where is Thomas?” he repeated, now with palpable ferocity.

The little one in the crib began to cry, and you quickly turned to look at her, but the man was not interested. He advanced, and despair washed over you.

“If you don’t tell me where he is, you won’t like what happens to you and your little girl,” he whispered, his hand slowly moving toward your waist.

Panic gripped you as you realized he was holding a gun.

With a swift movement, he pressed it against your head, and you froze, the world around you becoming a blur. Your heart pounded frantically in your chest, and your hands trembled.

“He needs to know he can’t escape. It’s time to pay his debts,” he said, his voice calm, almost indifferent to your terror.

Tears streamed down your face as you looked at your daughter, who was crying inconsolably.

The scene felt like a nightmare, and you were desperate. In a final act of courage, you said, “He’s not here. He won’t be back for a while. Please, don’t hurt us. She’s just a baby!”

The man hesitated, perhaps by the sincerity in your voice or the fragility of the situation. But the anger was still there, and he only laughed, a dry and cruel sound.

“Everyone has a price, and you two are on your way to paying it,” he murmured. But before he could do anything, the door swung open with a crash.

Thomas walked in, his expression cold and determined.

“Get away from her!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. The man turned to Thomas, the gun still on you, but Thomas's courage was palpable.

“You don’t want to do this, friend,” Thomas said, tension rising in the air. “Put the gun down.”

The man hesitated, and you felt the pressure of the gun dissipate, even if just a little. Thomas slowly moved toward you, muscles tense, each step measured.

“You’re going to regret coming here,” Thomas declared, and with a swift motion, he lunged at the man, knocking him down and sending the gun flying away.

The sound of the impact echoed through the house, and you fell back, breathless, still in shock.

Thomas was on top of the man, his fists delivering blows with the precision of a fighter, and you stood paralyzed, watching as anger and despair blended in your mind.

Finally, Thomas stood up, looking at you with concern in his eyes. He quickly approached, checking to see if you and your daughter were okay.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with anxiety.

As you looked at him, the tension began to dissipate, but the fragility of the situation still lingered.

“I... I am,” you replied, trying to stay calm as you looked at your daughter, who was finally starting to settle down.

From that moment on, Thomas began to change.

He realized he needed to make sacrifices and find a balance between the world of crime and family life. He started spending more time at home, helping with tasks, trying to make your daughter laugh, and enjoying the little moments you shared.

One night, while you were together in the living room, Thomas looked at your daughter, who was in your lap, and asked, “Do you remember when I promised I’d always be here?”

The baby, still too young to understand, simply smiled, flailing her tiny arms.

Thomas chuckled, the tension in his face easing.

“Let’s make this happen, my little one,” he said, looking at you with a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Time passed, and life began to improve.

Thomas brought home flowers, helped with caring for your daughter, and slowly, the sparkle in his eyes returned. In one of those moments, while you were changing the baby’s clothes, he walked into the room and said, “I want her to know I’m here for her. For both of you.”

The next morning, you woke up before your daughter. As you made coffee, you smelled fresh flowers. Turning around, you saw Thomas entering the kitchen with a small vase, wildflowers gently swaying.

“For you, my dear,” he said, the smile now radiant.

In that moment, you knew he was determined to be the man you always believed he could be.

That night, as your daughter slept, Thomas lay down beside you.

“I never wanted you to feel this way, far from me. You and our daughter mean everything to me,” he whispered, wrapping you in his arms.

You smiled, feeling his warmth envelop you and the little one, a new beginning. The tension of the past life started to dissipate, and the love you shared began to shine once again.

And as the night fell, the soft sound of your daughter’s breathing filled the room, you knew that despite the shadows that had passed, the sun was finally shining on you again.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x reader #fanfic #tommy shelby fluff #fluff #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic writing #tommy shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine

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amomentsescape · 4 months ago

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Could I request a reader that's stronger than the slashers? The reader can lift twice the weight and can work twice the time. It's the slasher that is sweating till their clothes stick to their skin, it's the slasher that falls to their knees, its the slasher that pants like a dog and the reader hands them a drink and tells them to "sit this one out, I can handle it".

Slashers with Stronger! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I wrote this more accurate to how I see the Slashers, and a couple of them are literally paranormal anomalies. So there are some that I just couldn't see Reader being able to out beat in this situation!

Freddy Krueger

This is a bit of a tricky situation

Physically, you are stronger and more capable than Freddy

And he doesn't mind really

He likes the challenge

But the problem comes in with the fact that he literally has supernatural abilities

So what he may lack in strength, he makes up for in creativity

He likes to bring you into his world some nights, setting up a little chase scene to test your strength

And he's always impressed with how long and how bravely you're willing to go

But unless you're also a dream demon, he's going to always have the upper hand

Michael Myers

Based on his prior experience and hard-to-believe survival situations, he isn't one to beat

Even with your own immense strength and endurance, Michael has a leg up

He just might not let you know it

He doesn't need you to know he's got you beat, as long as he knows it, he's fine

He'll even let you believe that you're stronger; he doesn't care

But if push comes to shove, you better believe he'll show his full power

Whether you're ready for it or not

Jason Voorhees

Jason admires your strength and ability

If anything, it makes him feel good that you're able to look out for yourself if you have to

Though, he rarely lets you out of his sight so it's not really needed

Jason is quite literally a supernatural phenomenon

So unfortunately, you're not really going to have him beat

But he doesn't ever want to diminish your confidence

He'll let you win arm wrestling or endurance activities to encourage you

He wants you to feel strong, because you are

He'd never want to bring down that feeling in you, no matter what

Thomas Hewitt

He is definitely taken aback at first, but he soon grows to love it

Unlike some of the other Slashers, he won't ever have you do the work on you're own

Now that he knows what you're capable of, he has you help out beside him

Doesn't ask you to do anything unless he plans on being out there with you

He's still hesitant letting you use any sharp objects, but if you want to do the heavy lifting, then by all means go ahead

He likes this dynamic between you two, and he feels like it helps get things done faster around the home

He always shows his appreciation with a firm hug and soft gaze

Bubba Sawyer

It's difficult to out lift Bubba; no one has ever accomplished it before

But the day you lifted a full wagon over your head like it was nothing was the day Bubba found himself at a loss for words (more like a loss for squeals and whines, but you get the idea)

Now, anytime you pick up something heavy or are able to out work Bubba, he just jumps up and down and claps happily

He loves that you're a hard worker just like him!

And he knows his Mama is just as happy to have another pair of hands to pull some weight around the homestead

Your ability doesn't make Bubba feel insecure in the slightest

Brahms Heelshire

Oddly enough, Brahms doesn't feel too emasculated by your strength and endurance

At first, he didn't really believe it

But after seeing it with his own eyes, he knows

However, this unfortunately just means more work for you

Since you're stronger than him, he's going to tack on extra work for you to do around the house

He's literally had you carry him to bed before because he knows you can

In a way, it just causes him to act even more child-like

It's a win for him, but not so much for you

Norman Bates

He would never admit it out loud, but he likes having someone who is bigger and stronger than him

His mother was always his caregiver and protector, so he knew that if anything happened to her, he'd want a partner that would do the same

It's not to be said that he wouldn't step in if you ever needed it

But he knows that you won't

He's seen what you can do

You've done a lot for him that he was unable to do himself

The moment you say you've got it, he'll happily step back and admire your strength

Billy Loomis

Billy is a bit of a contradiction

The majority of him wants to be angry

He feels very emasculated by your ability as well

But there's also a teensy tiny bit of him that kind of finds it hot you can do what you can do

He will never say this to you in a million years though

So for now, whenever you out lift him or run further than he can, he'll huff and puff and roll his eyes

He'll make remarks about how you "clearly don't need him" and will pout in whatever corner he can find

He's never been the "weaker" one in the relationship before, so he truly doesn't know what to do with himself

Stu Macher

He's kind of into it, to be honest

He doesn't mind being the "tough" one in the relationship, but he likes that you can pull your weight too

It honestly helps him out a lot

Whenever he's stuck in a sticky situation during one of his... scavenges, he knows who to call

He'll be right there if you ask for help, but if you tell him you can handle something on your own, he won't argue

He'll just stand back and smile

Knowing you can hold your own too helps give him peace of mind that you'll always be protected, even if he's not there

Vincent Sinclair

He is honestly very neutral about your capabilities and doesn't really see it as any type of comparison

You each have your own strengths (physically and mentally) that are different, and he's cool with that

He's having trouble lifting something? He'll just come to you

He's feeling extra fatigued and having trouble completing his tasks? You lend him a hand

And he always helps you out with other things too that he may be better suited for

There's no competition or feelings of inferiority between you two

You accept and love each other's differences, and Vincent is super happy with that

Bo Sinclair

Yeah, not a fan

He's very much the type to want his partner to basically be dependent on him

He wants to feel needed, and your superior strength not only contradicts that, it makes him feel inferior

It wouldn't be past Bo to make snide remarks in hopes of dwindling your strength just enough to have him come out on top

He wants to be your protector, he wants to be the muscle

And you not allowing him to be puts him in a foul mood

Unfortunately, you're either going to have to fake it or let him take full control

You're not going to see a happy Bo until then

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circeyoru · 8 months ago

Text

The Only Reason _ Part 3

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader - Mana Chaos AU]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 (here) — Part 4

“Sung Jinwoo is an S-Rank Hunter…”

“Another one…”

“It’s been 2 years since Cha Hae-In too.”

Nowadays, the emergence of an S-Rank Hunter and some A-Rank Hunters was like a demon had crawled out of hell and into the human world to cause destruction. Strong Hunters were seen and painted as a double-edged sword. On one hand, they could bring about peace to normal—non-awakened—individuals by closing gates and raiding dungeons. On the other hand, they could bring about destruction in their wake due to <Outrage> and the innocence would be harmed.

Protocols like an awakened Hunter must report to the EMI instead of the Hunter Association because they have to keep track of stronger Hunters. Hunters must continuously measure their mana levels in case of a reawakening into a higher rank. It was unavoidable, no matter which country, because they prioritized ordinary people more.

Perhaps the only place where EMI regulations can’t touch is America. After what Thomas Andre had done, he singlehandedly protected his fellow Hunters and announced to the EMI that they couldn’t have their way with people who worked to protect them from the dangers known as gates and dungeons. There were some Hunters that escaped to America to join Thomas and his stance, there were also some that were unluckily caught by the EMI, and some that didn’t do anything. Such is the sway of a National Level Hunter.

Unlike Thomas, who had no weaknesses to use against, Jinwoo was different. His family, his mother and younger sister, were dependent on the society and their system. So, against his better judgement, Jinwoo bowed to the whims of the EMI and was taken in as SM-10.

In the facility, he underwent several tests to draw a profile for him since he was fundamentally different from his E-Rank file. Anyone could see at a glance. Jinwoo kept his cards hidden because the more capable he was, the greater the danger his loved ones would be in. He was doing everything for his family. Upon capture, he was promised that his family would receive financial support so long as he behaved himself.

A cowardly but effective threat and compromise that he agreed.

Still, he hated the people who worked in this accursed building. All those labourers who hid behind a mask and voice changer donned uniforms that displayed their station. Throughout his days, he observed a few groups of workers.

First was the type that he frequently came into contact with: Guard. As their station name, they guarded things, from equipment to rooms and even Hunter cells. They were the ones that handled conflict and violence, even the heavy lifting, if any. Those who were higher ranked were called Warden; however, he only saw them during his testing sessions when they were making his profile. They all wear black masks—Warden’s mask is black with a white scratch mark over the right eyehole—and black soldier uniforms.

Second was the type that constantly changes to the point he doesn’t even keep track of: Supervisor. Contrary to their high-standing title, they do the smallest and most insignificant tasks, like delivering supplies, checking Hunter cells, and being an owl so passing messages. They were low-ranking workers that most wouldn’t bat an eye to if gone. Perhaps that’s why they have a grey uniform and a grey mask. Their code went as high as the hundreds, going to the thousands.

Third was the type that he hated most: Investigator or Researcher. They were the ones who administered the tests and punishments to the Hunters, and they monitored them inside their cell. Under their glances, a Hunter is reduced to a mere lab rat. They were individuals connected to the EMI but needed to be more important to make a—any—difference in the building. However, they were respected in some sense because some did aim for the betterment of the Hunters staying in the building. They wear a white mask with a mocking grin and a white uniform, complete with a lab coat.

Last was the type that intrigued him the most: Personnel. Though their code suggests they have people in the hundreds, there was actually only a handful of them in the building. The highest number he saw was 12. They were the ones with the most authority and well-respected individuals among the other groups, their work and station varied from individual to individual. They were the ones that stayed in the building the longest, and a new Personnel would only join their ranks if they carried confidential information about the EMI.

One would notice there doesn’t seem to be a highest position or individual, but the Personnel were the ones who acted as the say of the facility. None had absolute power to keep each other in check, and in case a threat was targeted, if one fell, the other would continue in the other’s place. The smaller the number, the bigger their authority, it seems.

Personnel 001 was once his observer during the tests, when he could let loose. After all the observation and boredom, Jinwoo accidentally killed them and was quickly restrained. He paid close attention to what happened. Would another observe him? Would there be a new Personnel in their ranks? What would happen?

Turns out, you happened.

Personnel’s clothing is ever-changing. They have free reign over what they want to wear; needless to say, they have no uniform. They only have to wear a lab coat over their usual outfits, and that’s it. One could mistake them for Investigators, but the distinct code would be shown on their coat at the area over their heart. They have a white mask with reflective black glasses covering their eyeholes.

Yet when you came in, you were void of that mask that hides one’s expression and face. Still, your poker face was impressive. You appeared expressionless and reminded him of a doll. You neither introduced yourself nor showcased your station, different from Personnel 001, who was practically shouting at him that they were the ones in power in this facility. At first glance, he knew you were different from all the rest.

“You’re hiding your cards. SM-10.” Your words held knowledge and confidence, stating a fact rather than questioning him. Your arm hugged a black clipboard with a small stack of papers clipped while your other hand held a pen. If you weren’t wearing a lab coat, you’d appear like a strict teacher or lab researcher.

He couldn’t help but let a smile spread over his lips, “What makes you think that?”

“You’re holding back.” You turned to the Guards stationed within the cell to leave you alone. Yes, a Personnel has the authority to be alone with a Hunter, but if it were a Supervisor, they must be with at least two to three Guards. “You killed Personnel 001, why? Be honest.”

There was a shine in your eyes that he noticed. He couldn’t tell what it was, though he wanted to be coy. “You’re not the only ones observing. Why not make it mutual?”

That was his first meeting with you.

With his Shadows, he watched you and your daily activities. You were practically glued to your work; you came to work early but left late. You have a good relationship with the other coworkers, and most respect you, evident by the nodding heads you receive in the hallways. You also seem to care for Hunters in their cells, inspecting the cell quality and making things more bearable for Hunters like him.

Thanks to him, more and better changes happened after Personnel 001 was removed. By then, he figured out that whether it was a company setting or a guild setting, 001 was the guild master, and you were the vice master. Once 001 was gone, you had more authority and implemented changes, of course, with the agreement of your other Personnel co-workers.

In that case, that makes you a lot more interesting. You realized his strength and power, you wanted an improved and more sophisticated place for Hunter, different from how the facility was supposed to be, and you have been treating everyone human.

Jinwoo concluded that he wanted to stay and get closer to you. With you in charge, his family was practically safe as well. He’ll stay and protect your spot at the top. Yet why were you pushing him away? It infuriated him. Still, he was thankful for the other Personnels’ fear over setting an S-Rank loose in public that he could prove to you how wrong you were to fight for his release.

While showing his point, he reduced the Personnel to perhaps 6 remaining—that already includes you. From 12 to 6, he cut off 4, and then there was 001 as well, so one Personnel died through other means. Either way, he made his point.

You were the only Personnel he liked and could resolve his <Outrage>.

That already bound you to him, and none would harm you unless they wanted the country to fall to ruins.

The two of you share secrets, and slowly, he got you to open up, showing only him a side of you that you hide behind an invisible mask. You’re the only one for him, he’ll make it so that he’s the only one for you.

He realized that his emotions and feelings for you turned a bit twisted over time. That Guard 149 that stared at you a little too long? Their leg was somehow caught between the double doors, so they can’t work here anymore, right? That Investigator 083 that was standing so close to you that your arms were touching? An experiment backfired and their arms were amputated. Another Guard that is coded 761 was asking you out? They got into a car accident and died.

Jinwoo was careful. You never pointed fingers at him nor suspected it was him at all. You were very naive and innocent; he loves that about you. You care for your workers, yet at the same time, you also don’t. He got his answer when he finally communicated with the other S-Rank Hunters during the end of the Jeju Raid.

“Personnel 002? Oh, I’d say that person cares about Hunters more.”

“Haha, Personnel 002 has been very accommodating, unlike the other ones.”

“You can’t compare Personnel 002 with the others, it’s not a fair comparison.”

“I always enjoy my time with Personnel 002.”

“You’re lucky SM-10, I wish I could have Personnel 002 come to my place often.”

The other S-Rank Hunters only had good things to say about you. As expected, you were biased against Hunters and silently helped them more. Though, he was more enraptured to hear you giving him special care and attention. In private, his smile grew wide as he chuckled to himself. “Ah… You’ll be the death of me… Personnel 002.”

Note: Ta da! Part 3's out and this is Jinwoo's side of the story, if it wasn't obvious to you!! A bit of boring history, but it's what it is~ Hope you guys liked this one!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@stupendouspizzacomputer @xiannars @skylar896 @forbidden-sunlight @waka-babe @soft-dots @iamapotatoe @hvnweeps @amayakurusu13

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #The Only Reason #yandere sung Jin woo #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere jinwoo #Yandere sung jinwoo x reader #yandere sung jin woo x reader #Mana Chaos AU

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months ago

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Friedrich getting 'infected' by proximity and becoming obsessed with dhampir reader?

Friedrich Harding x Dhampir male reader

Ficlet

I can’t deny I felt myself drawn to Friedrich, and it’s not just cuz its Aaron Taylor-Johnson playing him. The scene in the mausoleum… was something. This takes place somewhere after anna and the daughters die, but before Friedrich, well, you know. Tried to really go with the handsome mysterious vampire vibe here.

Hope this meets the “intro to obsession” vibe I was going for. I had a lot of fun writing this, would honestly love to write a part 2, if y’all are interested…

Nosfertatu 2024 spoilers ig

The plague was ransacking Wisborg, people dying by the dozen, bodies littering the streets faster than they could be moved away. Rats ran around, running about peoples feet, some even climbing up pedestrians legs if they could.

But Friedrich could not find it in himself to care. After his sweet Anna was gone, his beautiful daughters too, taken by this plague, for he still did not believe that it was some demon that took them. That was simply the ramblings of a woman who should have been locked away a long time ago. The alcohol on his tongue was sour like his thoughts. He truly should have convinced Thomas of turning his eyes onto another woman all that time ago.

Friedrich was not at his estate. He knew that would be the first place Thomas would find him, along with the two doctors who only played into the delusion. He simply couldn’t stand being in their presence right now, not after burying his beloved Anna and their daughters.

His eyes were bloodshot, throat raw from all his sobbing and weeping. He had not even changed out of the clothing he had worn to their funeral. The keeper of the bar he had found, had left the bottle with him after he had pair, deciding to return to the safety of their home, and not be stuck here with Friedrich.

The door of the establishment opened with a creak, cold air seeming to flood the room. What few candles stood about flickered before snuffing out, the room suddenly so cold that Friedrich’s breath was making vapors as a horrible cold sank into his bones.

The moment Friedrich turned his head, still so heavy and weary, the room seemed to warm up again, the candles flickering back on, the flame stronger and brighter than before. A man stood in the door, tall and broad in a way that spoke of good lineage, of a healthy diet, someone rich enough to eat enough to grow tall.

The clothing was similar, but not what was popular in Germany, but rather what you would see the upper class of the kingdom of Great Britain would wear. Most of it, at least. Down the middle of his coat, was stitching’s and details that felt like it was from somewhere else. It made Friedrich think of the few traders he had met from Romania.

What was most peculiar, was the mans eyewear. They looked like Windsor glasses, but the glass was tinted red. Not a dull weak red that most craftsmen could achieve, but a red so vibrant that the shades almost seemed to glow in the mans shadow. Last but not least, was the cane the man was holding. Polished and dark, with a pommel shaped like that seemed to be a bat of all things.

A feeling started filling the room as the men stepped closer to the mourning widow, the door slamming shut behind the mysterious man as if the wind itself as pulled it, his polished shoes and heels clicking across the flooring as he neared.

His walk was graceful, as if his feet were not touching the ground as he moved, like the weight of the world was not holding him down like everyone else. The world so heavy that Friedrich wanted it to swallow him whole.

A shiver that felt both molten and freezing ran down Friedrichs spine, as this graceful man sat down beside him on another stool at the door, the ship merchant finding himself almost bewitched as the unknown man pulled off his skintight leather gloves. It felt almost promiscuous, the way the gloves slowly pulled off his fingers and folded up so neatly on the bar top.

“You would not mind if I joined you for a drink, would you, Herr?” he finally spoke, his voice purred and accented, like a big fancily dressed feline, perhaps like one of those lions Friedrich had heard of. The voice was accented, something British mixed with Romanian. Seemingly out of nowhere, a crystal glass was in front of him, the mans eyes hidden behind the tinted glass of his special eyewear, but Friedrich felt like a mouse before a cat, like he was seeing someone greater than himself.

“N… not at all” he finally mustered out, voice gasped and breathless, like something besides his heavy grief was weighing on his lungs. The bottle of whatever alcohol Friedrich had bought in his blind grief felt heavy in his clammy hands as he pulled the stopper, turning it to pour it into the mans glass.

Friedrich could not wrench his eyes from the tall mans face, he felt almost bewitched. It felt like when he would look at Anna, but… more. Anna was always his beloved beautiful wife, who made him feel like an animal at times with how much he yearned her. But with her, he was the wolf, the hunter, and her his fluffy rabbit.

But now, he felt meek, sensitive, the hairs on his skin standing on end. Friedrich felt spit pool in his mouth as his sudden companion lifted the now filled glass, slowly bringing it to his plush lips, the bop of his throat as he swallowed making sweat gather on the merchant’s brow.

The beating of his heart was loud in his ears, Friedrichs hands twitching on the bar top in a need to wipe them on his trousers, but under this man’s attention he felt stuck as if he was submerged in stone or ice. His smile was… so beautiful. Dizzying, like alcohol and tobacco, like the medicines that made your world spin and colors dance before your ears.

Some of the man’s teeth were sharp, sharper than any Friedrich had ever seen, but his attention was stuck on the way his tongue flicked across his bottom lip to catch any stray drops of alcohol.

“You seemed burdened by a great weight, my friend” he purred, placing the now empty glass down, just to reach upper and take Friedrichs chin between his pointer and thumb. A loud shaky exhale left Friedrich, his Adams apple bouncing as he swallowed, his insides burning at such a small touch.

“I… I lost my wife… my daughters. To this plague” he gasped, the words wrenching from his chest like his daughters wrenching the favorite doll from each other’s hands. Why did he say that? spill such a painful fact to a complete stranger.

“You have my deepest condolences” his accented voice cooed, like one would coo at a small pitiful animal. Yet, Friedrich did not feel put down by the tone of voice, instead his very heart seemed to pump twice as fast as something like euphoria flooded his veins. The very attention of this man had Friedrich feeling more alive than any other moment of his life.

“It saddens me that my father’s obsession should take such important beings from you. I will find a way to repay you, anything you may want. You simply come find me, when you know what that is” his almost erotic voice rolled, his face drawing closer and closer to Friedrichs.

He knew he should pull away, claim disgust and horror of a man, and a strange at that, drawing so close, just after his wife had been put away in the mausoleum. But Friedrichs blood rushed, both to his face and downwards, his lips parting in a soft hungry gasp as his eyelids drooped.

The mans lips were cold, but not as cold as a corpses. Cold, like when you just got in from the pouring rain and you were soaked to the bone. His tongue tasted metallic, salty almost, mixed with the minty flavor of pastils. The kind a man would use to fix his breath.

It should have disgusted Friedrich, yet he found himself arching into it with a needy hungry whimper, a noise his sweet Anna never had drawn from him. The merchant wanted to grasp onto this man, to devour his tongue and mouth in ways he never dared with Anna, to climb upon him and be taken in ways he had only heard shamefully spoken of by others.

Pure ecstasy, what must be a taste of heaven, enough for Friedrich to fear he would spill in his trousers like a fool. Addicting, more than any drug. But just as he was about to indulge himself, the man pulled away, his grin wider and more akin to the demon paintings of the churches.

His teeth were painted red, his tongue flicking across his sharp fangs. His tongue seemed sharper and longer than the average person, but Friedrich felt nothing but want. In his hazy state, Friedrich did not even see him leave. One moment he was there, the next, gone, the door of the establishment wide open and the candles put out.

Rats ran by the door, yet none entered, as if there was a barrier in the way. It was only now that Friedrich felt the ache of his tongue, his hand clumsily reaching up and brushing against it, drawing away only to see them coated in blood. His mouth tasted like blood, his handkerchief soaked in it when he pressed it against his mouth.

His tongue hurt, did it start bleeding on accident when you two coiled yours like a pair of mating snakes? The throbbing of his tongue was almost as addictive as the throbbing between his legs, a wild feeling in his mind and body.

Friedrich stumbled to his feet, neglecting to pick up his hat as he stumbled out of the establishment, leaving his bottle behind as he tripped towards his home. With all the death around them, no one had time to pay attention to the befuddled man whose mouth and chin was soaked in blood, and nobody had time to pay attention to how the rats seemed to go right around him like a parting sea.

He must get home. He had too… he had to find that man again, he had to find you.

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slasherstories123 · 10 months ago

Note

Hello!! Can I please get some period comfort fluff with Jason, Thomas, RZ micheal and Art (whoever else you'd like to add) thank you xoxo

Slashers helping their S/O on their period

Pairing: Jason Voorhees, RZ! Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, and Art the Clown x GN! Reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @pink-apollo @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @callsignwidow @endomishy

Jason Voorhees

Jason will do anything you ask just to help out, he hates seeing you in pain. Especially from cramps and will grab the biggest pain killer bottle he can find just to give to you.

He doesn’t understand the concept so it’s best to sit him down and talk about it just before the time comes just so he could help out.

Sadly. He isn’t a walking heating pad, if he were to place his hand on your stomach to try and soothe your cramps you’ll feel a cold sensation, ice cold to be exact.

He’ll put you in you a warm bath if he sees that your cramps are getting worse

He’s trying his best just to make sure you’re okay and will give you space if you need it.

He’ll cuddle you as long as you want if you want to given his cold body, if you don’t mind it, he’s never letting you go unless you say so just to be there as company and support.

RZ!Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t know much about periods, but he did have an older sister, even then, that wasn’t enough for him, all he knew was that it was a monthly thing women go through.

He knew you were going through it when he saw you curled up in a ball in bed from the excruciating cramps, he doesn’t know what to do until you tell him want your needs were.

He’s trying…for you at least, the best he can do is provide you medicine. All the while staring at your pained figure. If you want him to stay he will.

Michaels hands are warm, he always have something in his hands and will squeeze relentlessly. He’ll even let you place his hand on your stomach as your own heating pad just to help you (after your slight begging of course).

He’ll steal candy from the critters houses to give to you too, you’ll sometimes find them by your night stand or right by your pillow whenever you wake up from a nap.

Thomas Hewitt

He gets help from Luda Mae mostly. He’s clueless and ran straight to her when he saw you curled up in bed.

She’ll tell him everything you might need just so he can be a better help for you.

Thomas will find a way to cool you down since being hot AND on your period isn’t a good mix. He’ll do the smallest things, even if it’s a massage he’ll do it.

Even if you protest he’ll make you rest and will do any small tasks that were assigned for you.

In the night he’ll meekness you to take medicine before bed just so you won’t be in pain throughout the nights

Thomas skin is hot from the Texas heat. His hand makes the perfect heating pad for you too. Whatever cuddling position you’re in his hand will be on your stomach through the night.

Art the Clown

Art is definitely trying his best, and since his actions are different, he’ll go through extreme measures just to get the products you need for your period.

He’ll still pull rather weird tricks just to get a laugh out of you or to distract you from the pain in your stomach.

Most tricks involve weird tactics or disturbing ones, which are in his nature that you’ve gotten used to and you yourself even got to laugh at a few of them

Art is an affectionate guy who will squeeze you tight while cuddling if you ask him to. If it’s a small hug he’ll take it to the next level just to squeeze you in his arms like a stress toy.

Art will also govern you small twinkles he stole or found just to give to you to cheer you up if you’re having your period mood swings. Sometimes he’ll play along if you’re upset and cross his arms with a fake angry expression just to try and mock you.

It’s all harmless in the end.

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sailorsoons · 1 month ago

Text

Dark Gospel | Teaser (c.hs)

PAIRING: Vernon x afab reader

SUMMARY: After discovering Vernon experienced a violent possession on Halloween night, you try to help him get his old self back. Except Vernon is insisting he's not still possessed and this has always been what was lurking under his surface... and you're not totally convinced that you mind.

WC: TBD

AU: Supernatural, Thriller, It’s Complicated Relationship

GENRE: Smut, A Little Angst

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

TEASER WARNINGS: Brief, non-descriptive mentions of murder, mentions of spiritual possession, light depictions of the start of a ritual, Vernon being a cocky little shit, references to sexual acts.

A/N: Blame the new teaser. I don't know how I ended up writing the part I swore I never would.

MASTERLIST | ASK | TAG LIST | READ THE PREQUEL |

READ FULL FIC NOW

Vernon watches you with hungry eyes, leaning back on his palms. His legs are crossed casually, entirely at ease. The only part of him that appears dialed in is his eyes, tracking your every movement, a predator tuned in to its prey.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, turning to your backpack on the floor.

“Like what?”

“You know like what.”

“Like I want to taste you again?” Your stomach flips and your grip tightens on the notebook you pull from your bag. “Fine, I will try not to look at you like that. Proceed with your little ritual.”

“You agreed to it, you know?”

“Like I said.” He sighs, rolling his head back so that he’s staring at the ceiling. “Your wish is my command. And it’s not going to work - I’m just me. Nothing to get rid of.”

“Well ‘just you’ can’t cross a line of salt, so that must not be true.”

“It’s my new salt allergy.”

“Vernon.”

He’s grinning at you when you look at him, that ravenous gaze just as present on his face. “It’s a joke, Love. Feel free to laugh at your convenience.”

Love. Not Lovecraft, like he used to call you, but something new and with weight to it, something intimate, said with a velvet purr that makes your hands sweat. Not darling like the spirit that had - and still might be - possessing him.

You think he is still possessing him, anyway. Vernon insists that it’s just him with a new edge, forever changed by that night on Halloween. You cannot imagine it’s just Vernon and not the spirit of the murderer Thomas inside of him. Why else would Vernon have killed those people? Why else would he not be able to cross salt? Why else would he look at you like he would set the world on fire for you?

He’s looking at you like that right now, gaze half-lidded and heady. You ignore him in favor of scanning your scrawled script on the paper, memorizing the words you’re supposed to chant. You nod and toss the journal back onto your bag, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before standing in front of the circle.

Vernon looks up at you. He looks beautiful like this, his long, silky lashes framing his dark eyes. His face is flickering in shadow from the candles, equal parts demon and angel. Again, you fight the urge to shiver. Instead, you begin walking clockwise, careful not to break the line of salt.

Voice wavering, you whisper, “By salt of earth and flame of will, I break your hold, I bind, I still.”

#vernon smut #hansol smut #chwe vernon smut #chwe hansol smut #hansol x reader #vernon x reader #svt smut #svt fic #vernon x you #vernon angst #hansol angst #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #tw: flashing #tw: flashing gif

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gothamhappiness · 9 months ago

Text

Masterlist

Incorrect quotes

Journalist's question (Journalist / gn!reader)

Tim's plan (Tim drake x gn!reader)

A gun (Jason Todd x gn!reader)

When are we getting married? (Jason Todd x gn!reader + Dick Grayson)

Skincare routine (Jason Todd x afab!reader + Dick Grayson x Koriand'r)

A hobby (Bruce Wayne x gn!reader + Alfred Pennyworth)

Adopting Duke (Bruce Wayne x gn!reader + Duke Thomas)

Crushes are oblivious (Stephanie Brown x gn!reader)

Brothers being brothers (Jason Todd / Tim Drake)

Kidnapper (Bruce Wayne / Kidnapper + Dick Grayson)

Do your bed, Damian (Damian Wayne / Alfred Pennyworth / Bruce Wayne)

Yeah I saved you (Jason Todd / Tim Drake)

Men like him (Carmine Falcone / Selina Kyle / Bruce Wayne)

Jerk / Bitch (Stephanie Brown / Jason Todd)

Smart kids (Stephanie Brown / Duke Thomas)

Imagines / Oneshots

The nightmare (Jason Todd x gn!reader)

It's happening again (Jason Todd x gn!reader)

Just in love (Jason Todd x f!reader)

You're always making things better, Jay (Jason Todd x GN!reader)

You're going to be okay, Jay (Jason Todd x GN!reader)

A new flower to take care of (Poison Ivy x GN!reader)

I'll do better for you (Poison Ivy x GN!reader)

Let's free the world from humanity (Poison Ivy x GN!reader)

Friends are the best painkillers (Platonic!batfamily x chronically ill gn!reader)

Headcanons

Demon Head!Bruce Wayne (x f!reader)

The nightclub (Jason Todd x f!reader)

Series

You are my heaven // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey: afab!reader's origin story // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10

Persephone // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

Death can't keep up apart // Part 2 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

Behind the masks // Part 2 (Bruce Wayne x gn mayor!reader)

Don't touch Red Hood, Batman! // I like to flirt with you, Red Hood! // You're my guardian angel, Red Hood! // I love you, my crime lord! (Jason Todd x f!reader)

Love me like in a dark fairytale // Part 2 // Part 3 // (knight!Jason Todd x princess!reader)

Bonus: polls

Why do you love Jason Todd?

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angrythingstarlight · 1 year ago

Note

While my mind always goes to Bucky first in any form, I also thought about Ari this time. What thoughts does this inspire in you, queen?

🪄🫀

Pairing: Demon!Bucky x Reader

A/N: Unbetad, written on my phone.

Bucky is the bane of your existence. Ever since you got the best of the demon last winter, he's plagued your doorstep like his never ending shadows. Trying to make you pay for your insolence, his wounded pride not able to accept that he lost to you. An unassuming, shy soul that he should have easily devoured.

He's intent on getting you down on your knees, his attempts at making you beg him for forgiveness are fraying at your already fraught nerves. You bested him. You won his game fair and square. He should be on his knees for you, not the other way around.

Not when you were so clever, for once in your life anyway.

If that happened more often, you wouldn't have found yourself needing to make a deal with a demon in the first place. But it what it is and you actually came out on top.

He can't stand it.

Bucky always comes out on top. As he likes to remind you. Daily. Relentlessly.

Since he won't leave you alone, you've decided to make him useful.

Bucky wants you so fucking bad, you're going to make sure you're taking up residence in his mind all day, every day.

You're going to make him do your bidding. Which is to leave you alone and suffer. Maybe do a few things on your behalf. For a few weeks anyway. Once he sees what you're capable of, he'll move on to some other poor soul and forget all about you.

It was surprisingly simple to find the right spell. Well, simple after a few attempts left scorched marks along the top of your counters. You'll deal with that later.

You're adding a few unnaturally blue petals to the jar when your phone buzzes. BUCKY flashes across the screen.

He added himself to your contacts a month ago. Right around the time, he convinced your neighbor to move out and give him the apartment. Bastard. You liked Thomas, he was nice.

Bucky even kept the guy's cat, the fluffy white traitor keeps traipsing in your place whenever you open the door. Sometimes...sometimes you swear his eyes are the same shade of blue as Bucky's. Thats crazy, you shake off the thought and go back to your jar.

The only thing left is a lock of his hair. You snagged that during your last fight, under the guise of pushing him out of your place. Your hands shook for almost hour afterwards, so sure that he was going to realize what you did. But he never came back that night. You're lucky. This spell is useless without it. Normally things never go your way but recently everything has been working out for you.

Except the irritating demon darkening your doorway. Your phone buzzes. BUCKY. Again. BUCKY. Again. Bucky. You'd shut it off but it always rings when he calls. No matter how many times you block him.

You swipe through the messages popping up on your screen. Don't even think about it. Stop it or I will. Don't fuck with me. I can feel what you're doing and I promise you sweetheart, you will regret it.

Eh. Not the worst things he's sent you.

You pick up the strands, your hand hovering over the open jar. Bang. You startle, nearly knocking over the jar. One hand shooting out to steady it, the frothy liquid sloshing over the rim of the glass. Your heart pounds in your chest, slamming painfully against your ribcage. Bucky shouts your name. Silence. The silence is worse than him screaming, it feels more ominous. A tremble slices through your hand as you bring the short chestnut locks above the concoction. A series of rapid fire bangs rattle the walls of the kitchen, the floors shake under your feet.

Alarms rings your in brain, warnings to stop, it's not to late. You don't. You're not sure why. It feels like you should but you can't.

You open your hand and watch in rapt fascination as his hair sinks into the jar. Before your courage seeps out of you, you screw the lid on and shake once the jar. Twice. The rattlingly stops and the room goes quiet. You can only hear your soft breathes and the slow tick, tick, tick of your clock.

A warm breeze winds around your legs, traveling up your body in a languid wave. Notes of smoked cedar follow, your head feels too light yet too heavy all at once. You stumble backwards, hitting something hard. The kitchen window tilts, melting into the sink below, the walls twisting and darkening around you.

A hand smooths up your belly, your chest, pressing into the column of your throat before cupping your chin. Your face is tilted up and you blink, trying to clear your vision.

Blue eyes stare down at you, a cascade of emotions shimmer in their depths. You can't make sense of what you're seeing. Then he smiles revealing a set of pearly white teeth, his tongue runs across his bottom lip.

"Wha—"

"It's time to go. You wouldn't want to miss your honeymoon would you?"

What. You're going to kill him.

Bucky winks as he gathers you in his arms. "You can try wife as many times as you want. I look forward to it. After I get done fucking you."

This was supposed to be a simple answer and i got a little carried away. Anyone interested in a demon!Bucky tricking a reader into being his bride? Because now I have thoughts 👀

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #demon!bucky #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

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zablife · 6 months ago

Text

Fighting Demons

Bonnie Gold x gf reader (Tommy's daughter)

Summary: After Bonnie's asked to throw an important fight, you visit to reassure him of your love. However, the shame and anger inflicted by your father's request cause a concerning change in your bf.

A/N: In a recent poll readers said they'd like to read more Bonnie Gold so here's something I've been working on.

Warnings: 🔞 dark!Bonnie, blow job, choking, brief mention of SA

"Do you actually want to spend the evening alone or are you just being obstinate?" your stepmother asked in an exasperated tone. She leaned her ear against the door to see if you would reply. When you remained silent, Lizzie huffed out a breath that signaled her disapproval of your overly dramatic tactics.

"I can't talk any sense into her," she informed Tommy who waited at the bottom of the stairs.

"And what am I to do?" he answered gruffly.

"Tell her he won't be hurt," she answered in a serious tone, lips pursed tightly as soon as she realized how absurd her words sounded.

Tommy looked down at his shoes, head shaking softly as he proclaimed, "He won't."

"You used to be a better liar, Tom," Lizzie noted as she brushed past her husband to the waiting car.

"Fuckin' hell," Tommy swore as his gaze turned toward the upper floors of Arrow House. Before he could convince himself it was a bad idea, he climbed the stairs two at a time to seek you out.

Knuckles wrapping against your door, he insisted you open it and afraid not to obey your father, you did. You found a wild eyed madman staring back at you, his voice warning you in a low tone. "Y/n, Lizzie asked you to come downstairs."

You shook your head in response to his demand, stubborn as you'd ever been.

"The car's waiting so I won't ask again," he pressed, tossing your new dress at you. "Now get ready," he demanded before storming out.

You held the beaded garment between your fingertips, uncertain if you could go through with it. Bonnie was facing an undefeated champion tonight, a giant, and there would be nothing you could do to stop the brutality if the hulking man facing him in the ring decided to be ruthless.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you stepped into the dress Polly and Linda helped you choose weeks ago. In those days you'd been excited for you boyfriend, thinking this fight would be an important step in his career.

Now you realized it was nothing more than a spectacle to make your father money. Thomas Shelby had no real interest in the boy who had stolen your heart, the one he was willing to put in the ring with a killer.

——————

"Have a drink," Linda urged as she glimpsed you fidgeting in your ringside seat.

You accepted the bottle of gin from her hands and took a couple of long swigs before Polly snatched it from you.

"If you keep this up, we'll have to carry you out," she scolded, placing the bottle to her own lips.

Watching you cross your arms over your chest in a childish pout, she glanced from side to side to see if Tommy was nearby. When she realized he was deep in conversation with a paranoid Arthur, she leaned over to you conspiratorially.

"Go and see the boy," she suggested, watching your face brighten at the prospect.

You didn't need to be told twice, eagerly gathering your purse before she could change her mind.

With each quickened step down the dimly lit corridor, the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd began to fade. In the quiet solitude of the locker room, you called out for Bonnie.

"What do you want?" he replied brusquely.

You didn't take the tone personally, knowing he was steeling his mind for the fight. If anything, the hard edge to his voice was turning you on, especially as you drank in the sight of his muscular torso.

"I thought you might like some company," you offered gently as you watched him begin to tape his hands. He didn't look up, but you approached with a glint of mischief in your eye. "You look tense, Bon," you noted sweetly, running a hand between his shoulder blades.

Although he still didn't move, you could sense the involuntary reaction to your touch in the way his skin rippled to goosebumps beneath your fingertips.

"Y/n," he warned in a low growl, vibration carrying through his body to meet your warm palms.

"C'mon, let me help you," you urged dropping to your knees before him. As you looked up into his stormy hazel eyes, you realized you'd finally captured his attention.

Grasping your chin in his hand, nails digging into your flesh possessively, he studied you a moment before demanding, "Did your father ask you to do this?"

Eyes wide at the suggestion, you shook your head against his firm grasp. "Of course not," you answered indignantly and he chuckled at the fire inside you.

"Going to ruin that expensive dress just because you can?" he smirked.

"Want to make you feel good," you shrugged, eyes turning dark and suggestive as you held his gaze. Somehow you couldn't bring yourself to care about the beads digging into your knees when Bonnie's fingers dipped below the waistband of his trunks to push them from his hips.

As his cock sprung free, you licked your lips in anticipation, hand reaching for him before he caught your wrist. "Tell me to win," he urged, the veins in his arm protruding as he held you fast.

"You've won my heart and I'll always see you as a champion. Isn't that enough?" you asked, trying not to allow the ache in your chest to spoil the moment.

Bonnie only scoffed as he released you, guiding his leaking tip to your waiting lips. Holding the back of your head as he pushed himself past the soft press of your kiss, he uttered a shaky sigh. "Then treat me like a champion," he whispered, remembering all the times before when you'd come to him after a fight more than eager to celebrate his victory.

Without need of words, you knew he was imagining those moments of triumph and you allowed yourself to return to a time when you would join him after a match. His blood and sweat covered body pressing against you, chasing an even greater high together.

The next few moments were a blur of sloppy movements, your hungry mouth devouring his growing length. Both of you panting in wanton desire for the other. Bonnie's hips began to jerk at the stimulation and you rested a palm against his muscular ass cheek to accept him further into your throat, a desperate moan escaping around him.

However, that's when you realized how much adrenaline was coursing through his veins. His thighs began to twitch and his fingers wound into your locks like anchors. Before you knew what was happening, he was thrusting into your face with abandon, chin tilted toward the ceiling as his eyes squeezed shut.

There was no way for him to tell you were struggling for breath beneath him, his only thought using you like he would his fist or a cheap whore. Attempting to pull your head away, he held you tightly, palms pressing against your ears until you could hear no sounds except your gags and retches.

Your lungs burned from lack of oxygen wondering if he would release you when a loud grunt signaled his peak. "Swallow," he instructed and you tried to relax as the thicks ropes of cum hit your tongue. There was too much and little rivulets began streaming from the sides of your mouth in protest to match the streaks of mascara coating your cheeks.

As soon as his strong hands released you, you fell backward, heaving for breath. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your watery eyes searched Bonnie's for some idea of what he'd been thinking.

"Wh-why did you do that?" you asked, feeling hurt and confused. He'd never been so rough with you.

"Finally taking what's mine," Bonnie replied coldly.

"This is about my father, not me," you insisted. "If you're angry..."

"Fucking right, I am!" he interrupted in a booming voice that echoed menacingly off the tiled walls. "My reputation is ruined after tonight and for what? So your Da can line his pockets!"

You shook your head, wanting to explain how he'd gotten it all wrong, but you knew what he said was true. Quickly trying to think of a silver lining, you offered, "You'll be paid well so even if you don't have another fight..."

However, the thought of his career ending tonight ignited a vengeance in Bonnie. "Maybe I'll collect my payment now then," he hissed at you, spinning you around to face the wall and press your cheek to the cold tiles.

As you felt him rip at your dress, beads scattering along the floor, you began to scream. "No, Bon! Not like this," you begged, looking over your shoulder at him with watery eyes.

"You knew your father was using me and you didn't care so long as you kept living in luxury," he accused with venomous tongue.

"Th-that's not true...I love you," you protested through sniffles. "You know I want to marry you, have your children..." you babbled, hoping to bring him around.

"Stop lying!" he shouted over you, his large hand clamped around your neck, turning your hiccuped sobs into little more than a whispered gasp for breath.

Vision blurring from lack of oxygen you made one last attempt to free yourself, kicking back at him with as much force as you could muster. You only succeeded in making him angrier, his hand lowering to rip your underwear away.

Listening as he stroked himself back to hardness behind you, you felt your body go numb and your mind blank with no way to subdue him.

"After I win tonight, you're going to tell your Da it was your decision. You wanted the father of your child to have a future," he instructed, punctuating his request with one powerful thrust.

Bonnie lasted all twelve rounds, making Tommy and Arthur visibly nervous as he'd been expected to go down in the eighth. A knock out finished Goliath at the last moment, Bonnie flashing a bloodied, yet triumphant grin to the crowd.

"What the fuck did you just do?" Tommy asked through clenched teeth.

"Ask your daughter," Bonnie replied, eyeing your trembling form waiting by the ring.

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

Tag List:

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@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

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@carriagetovolterra

@copinghex

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #bonnie gold #Bonnie Gold x reader #Bonnie gold x you #Bonnie gold x y/n

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conclover · 28 days ago

Text

Thomas Lawrence x Reader — Part 1

Part 2

Summary: After years of quiet rejection from the Church, you step back into its heart. Not as a believer, but as a hired restoration artist. An unexpected encounter with Cardinal Lawrence leaves a mark on you, but it affects him far more deeply. For Thomas, fascination quickly festers into obsession. His attraction borders on fixation, driving him to fantasize in secret and shadow your movements through the palace under the guise of duty.

Warnings: +18, reader is referred to as she/her, yandere vibes, masturbation.

Notes: I’m sorry, but I couldn’t write Thomas without him turning into a creepy weirdo.

Word count: 2.6k

...

Asmodeus. Satanas. Lucifer.

Those were the names that haunted you through your childhood. The Church made sure they lived in your bones, not just your mind. You were taught to fear them not as myths, but as lurking truths: ever-watching, ever-waiting. And you believed it. You believed that as long as you kept your head bowed, your hands folded and your heart clean, those names would never find you.

But childhood faith doesn’t survive untouched. And time is a slow kind of exorcism. As you grew older, the demons stopped lurking in shadows and began to take on different shapes. Their horns dulled, their wings tattered. They started looking like people you knew. Like people who asked questions. Like people who didn’t quite fit in the compressive lines the Church drew. And eventually, they started looking like you.

They said doubt was demonic. Questioning? Heresy. A soul that wandered was already halfway to damnation.

So the exile began. Quietly, at first, with sideways glances and closed doors. Until one day, you stopped trying to go back.

You can’t even remember the last time you stepped inside a Church. You’ve handled sacred things, yes. You’ve laid your hands on marble saints with their fingers broken off, cleaned centuries-old dust from sorrowful Madonnas, restored bleeding crucifixions whose colors had long faded into time. But you never stepped into a sacred place since then.

And now, here you are.

The Apostolic Palace. The seat of papal power.

For other workers that came in here, this was a privilege, something to talk about to other people. But for you, to walk back into this place, even for work, is to be swallowed by the very structure that once spat you out.

But you try to remind yourself that you’re not here as a guest. You’re here for a reason. They need you to repaint some frescoes for the big days at head. You simply finish your job and then you leave, making as little contact as possible.

You walk calmly now. But where you’re going, no one wanders by accident. Once you enter through the ancient doors of the Sistine Chapel, a known fear grows inside you. Not of death, or violence, but of being seen. Truly seen. Not by God, but by men who claim to speak for Him. The kind of men who once named you impure and then locked you out of the house they say was built for all.

And for a moment, despite everything, you are disarmed. Art has always been your weakness, your defiance, your salvation. Even here. You recognize every brushstroke. You see the craft beneath the beauty. The labor beneath the sanctity. For a breathless instant, you forget the cruelty this place hides behind stained glass and sanctified marble.

Then a voice cuts through the silence, interrupting your thoughts.

“You seem to be lost.”

A shadow falls across you, drawn tight against the brilliance of the frescoed saint. You turn to see his figure stand in stark contrast to the light. The black of his robes absorbes every gleam, making his presence all the more imposing. He is tall, but not imposing in size. It’s his gaze that commands. Calculating, unblinking. You’ve seen eyes like his before and there is something coldly familiar about them.

His attention lingers on your outfit. It’s not scandalous, not quite... but it’s a stark contrast to the controlled world he inhabits. There’s a flicker in his eyes, something almost imperceptible that flashes too quickly to grasp. Was it desire or disgust? You can’t tell. Maybe it's both. But then, before you can think about it any depper his expression tightens, the mask of control sliding back into place.

He steps closer. You can feel the shift in the air, the weight of his presence pressing down on you. The air tightens and you notice that he smells faintly of incense.

His voice breaks the silence, but it’s low, as if meant to be heard only by you. “Not lost, then?”

As he speaks, his hand rises to brush a loose strand of hair from his face. The movement draws your eye. That’s when you see it. The cross. The power. He is a Cardinal.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. The silence between you stretches, as oppressive as the grand walls around you.

“(Y/N), isn’t it?” he says, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you. Your work, of course…”

“You have?” you manage to say. Your voice sounds softer than you meant.

“Yes. But it’s not the art that interests me most.” He smiles. This time, it reaches his eyes in an almost affectionate way. “It’s the hands behind it.”

“R—Really?”

You hate the way your voice breaks. You hate that it echoes. Being surrounded by paintings of saints, martyrs and angels, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. And then there was him. Maybe he wasn’t truly prying on what you thought he was. Maybe his words were harmless, just polite curiosity. But still, his presence stirred something in you. You didn’t want to talk about your life. Not with someone like him.

“You see,” he says, his gaze never leaving you. There's a flicker of something subtle in his expression, like a glimpse of vulnerability slipping through. “You could say I’m something of a fan of yours.”

His voice is steady, but unmistakably genuine. That alone throws you off balance. If the situation hadn't already felt surreal, this was the final, unnerving touch.

“A fan.” The words leave your lips hollowly. A sickening recognition coils in your gut, the hairs on your arms standing on end. He knows you. He wouldn’t be hefe if he didn’t know exactly who you were. But why this sudden interest in you? Had he read your resume?

He sees the tremble in your stance, the way unease coils in your limbs like you’re afraid of him.

“I haven’t even introduced myself,” he says then, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “Cardinal Lawrence. Thomas. Dean of the conclave.”

Thomas. A name too ordinary for a man like him. It feels false on your tongue when you repeat it. It’s too soft, too human.

But he smiles, as if enjoying the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“I look forward to our collaboration,” he says, voice low and rich, like a secret meant only for you. “We’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other.”

You simply nod, unsure of how to respond to that. His voice didn’t hold any malice, yet you couldn't help but feel tense in his presence.

If he were anyone else, someone outside this place, someone not draped in centuries of patriarchal power, you might have liked him. He got some interesting looks after all. But no, he was the embodiment of everything you fled.

“I’ll be here for the week,” you say, your voice a bit steadier this time.

Thomas studies you for a heartbeat longer. You can feel it again. The weight behind his eyes, as if he’s reading past your skin.

But just as he seems about to speak again, a quiet sound breaks through the distant hush of the palace. There was a subtle cough and the soft echo of approaching steps.

He glances toward the sound, then back at you, something like disappointment ghosting across his features.

“I’m afraid duty calls,” he says, the words laced with reluctant finality. “The conclave doesn’t organize itself. Cardinals must pretend they still matter.”

He gives a wry, almost conspiratorial smile, but it doesn’t last long. Then his gaze returns to you, heavy and lingering, as though he’s savoring a moment that’s just between the two of you.

Without breaking eye contact, he raises his hand to the cross at his chest, an unconscious movement, but one that betrays the tension beneath the surface. It's a subtle, self-soothing gesture, as if to steady himself, as though the weight of his own desire is almost too much to bear.

“I do hope to see you again soon,” he murmurs, the words soft but dripping with something you can’t quite place.

And with that, he walked away with slow, measured steps, the way men like him always did: composed, unreadable, wrapped in a performance of piety. But beneath the robes, a fierce, consuming desire was burning inside him, threatening to crack through his controlled exterior.

You turn back to the frescoes, trying to focus on the cracks in the paint, the worn lines you were brought here to fix. But your gaze keeps drifting. There was something about the way he looked at you. It was too intense, too knowing. And, damn it, it wasn’t just his appearance. It was the authority he carried. It commanded attention without a word. You hate how it kept tugging at you, how it settled in your chest like heat. It pulled at something inside you, something you didn’t want to name.

You tell yourself it was just the intensity of the encounter, the sheer surrealism of being spoken to by someone so high up in the Church’s machinery. That’s all it is. That’s all it is.

...

The encounter had not left Thomas untouched.

Now, sitting in the quiet comfort of his bed, he found himself staring at the crucifix mounted on the wall above it. Its silver shine caught in the candlelight, glimmering faintly.

How many years had he looked at this image and felt nothing? And now, in the quiet aftermath of your presence, it almost felt absurd. It was an empty symbol, unable to compare to the stirring that still lingered inside him.

He had faced temptation before. Doubt. Anger. Pride. All the usual devils the Church warned against, wearing familiar faces. He had conquered them with confession, with fasting, with long hours spent alone in candlelit chapels, whispering prayers into the silence. But lust… that was a different kind of beast. One that refused to be tamed so easily.

He glanced down, his pants tightening with an uncomfortable urgency. His pulse hammered like a relentless rhythm he could feel in his chest.

This isn’t just attraction, he thought, a wave of realization washing over him. This is hunger.

He had tried to suppress it the moment he knew you were coming. He tried again now, with every ounce of willpower he could muster. But the image of you refused to leave him.

The flicker of hesitation in your voice, the nerves you worked so hard to conceal, the way you said his name. He had noticed everything. He had memorized it without meaning to.

He closed his eyes and took a breath, long and hollow.

He would see you again. Of course he would. There was still time. The restorations would take days. There would be more conversations. More meetings. More glances.

God forgive him, but he craved those moments.

Slowly, Thomas sank back onto the soft pillow, his eyes shutting tightly as if to block out the temptation threatening to consume him. But your voice lingered in his ears. You weren’t flirting. You weren’t even trying. And somehow, that made it worse.

He imagined what it would feel like to take your hand under the pretense of admiring your technique. Something professional. Just enough to feel the heat of your skin. Maybe he’d lean in to look at your brushwork, and your shoulders would accidentally touch.

His jaw clenched as the thought lingered too long, spiraling into something more erotic. He thought of the way your skin peaked through your not so modest attire. Of how it might feel to have you in his bed right now. Of the things he would do to you if you were here. He would not be able to control himself.

His lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smirk, the edges of it laced with dark thoughts. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest, fingers tightening around the cross as if the sacred object could quell the growing pulse of desire within him. Slowly, almost without thought, his hand drifted lower. A bit of release wouldn't hurt him, would it? He thought to himself as he pulled his zipper down. He tightly shut his eyes, biting down on his lip, as his hand traced slow movements at the tip of his cock.

His lips escaped your name a few times as his hand moved faster, his movements becoming slowly more desperate. He really needed you. To feel your body against his. To fuck you until his doubts would go away. To fuck you so mercilessly in his bed until the cross above it would fall. God. How much he wanted you. To see you naked. To have you on all fours trembling for him. To fill you with his cum.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re the Dean of the Conclave, he reminded himself. You are supposed to be above this.”

He would see you again. Soon. And next time, he wasn’t sure he’d be quite so composed if he was thinking about you in such way.

...

He had a plan. To avoid you at all costs. To keep his mind clear, his thoughts guarded. To preserve some semblance of the discipline he had spent decades cultivating.

But the more he tried, the harder it became. He was doing his best. He told himself that every morning, like a prayer... but his admiration for you was beginning to cloud his judgment. More than once, he caught himself drifting from his duties, walking the halls with no real destination… only to find you there dusting ash from a long faded mural. Reverent in your work. Oblivious to him. At least, he hoped you were.

He began to notice patterns. You always started with the demons, never the angels. You hummed softly when you worked on the smaller statues, but never the paintings.

And Thomas found himself drawn to these things. Addicted, almost, to the small rituals of your presence.

He told himself it was curiosity. That it was his responsibility, as Dean, to ensure the restoration was proceeding with care. That it was only right to oversee the process personally. But he knew better. Deep down, he knew. He was following you.

He hated this weakness in himself. This quiet unraveling. He didn’t just want to be near you. He wanted to know everything. Where you lived. What you dreamed of. What you feared. What your hands would feel like pressed against his chest. He wanted to know your favorite color. The first painting you ever restored. Whether you preferred tea or coffee. He wanted to know what made you laugh, really laugh, and what you looked like when you thought no one was watching.

It was madness.

And it was growing.

Day by day.

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