#michael grey imagine

[cathrrrine]

just eat your food and say goodnight.

erik lehnsherr (magneto) x reader, platonic! peter maximoff (quicksilver) x reader • x-men (movies) • fluff, female reader

Summary: Peter Maximoff is a mischievous little shit. Y/N Lehnsherr and her husband Erik love him anyway. AO3

“Well, I’m calling it a night then.”

A content sigh escaped your lips as you stood up from your seat at the dining table and gingerly picked up your own dishes as well as the other empty ones left on the table. Those who noticed thanked you quickly before resuming their respective conversations — like Raven and Charles who were too busy bickering like children — while others made the effort to collect the ones on the other end of the table, namely Hank, Jean and Scott; the latter only doing so after being dragged by his girlfriend.

“Hey, you got an early class too, old man. Can’t risk waking up late with that back of yours.” You gestured to your husband, pointedly looking at him with a smirk on your face. He mirrored your expression, playfully cringing his nose to tease you but it only made you chuckle, a sound that was music to his ears.

“Good night then, everyone.” Erik stood up, following suit behind you, a melody of good night’s responding to him in different tones and variations of the phrase.

“The old man joke doesn’t age well with you, Y/N!”

Although muffled as he said it with a mouth full of food, it was clear enough for you to hear and snap your head towards him. Peter, the beloved speedster, snickered to himself at his own joke. He was too busy shoving chocolate pudding down his throat to notice that a couple of those around him had gone quiet, staring at him with disapproving eyes.

Raven reached over to flick the side of his head and Charles leaned back to give her the leeway, “Dumbass.”

“Ow!”

In your one thousand and thirty-five years of living, it was no surprise that all jokes about your age had grown stale. You hated them, having heard every single phrase on Earth…it was just plain boring to hear them make unoriginal jabs at your age at this point. If they got creative, you wouldn’t mind so much, but after hearing the same variations of the same jokes your whole life? Anyone would be understandably annoyed. Erik knew this, almost everyone at the table did as well. But, you figured it slipped Peter’s mind. It always did.

As he rubbed the side of his head, he stared angrily at the shapeshifter but was met by a pair of equally disappointed eyes that belonged to a certain Professor. A sheepish look fell on Peter’s face when he realised his mistake.

“You should know not to be too casual with your professors.” Charles raised an eyebrow.

Of course, you didn’t take it too seriously, he was a kid that meant no real harm so you didn’t really feel any real anger towards the young speedster, maybe even none at all. But he’s been bothering you too many times lately that it was starting to get on your nerves. So, you put on your Strict Professor Face and stared him down, determined to make him break a sweat at the very least. It probably wouldn’t put a cork in Peter’s attitude, but maybe you’d earn yourself a few weeks off from his incessant clowning.

Erik suppressed the grin that was starting to tug at his cheeks, he knew what you were doing, so he wordlessly took the stack of plates from your grip and continued your task for you. He caught Charles’ eye and they shared a knowing look for a brief moment.

Peter was in trroubleeeee.

“You do know how I feel about those jokes, Maximoff.”

“Funny, right?” He tried to play innocent, nervously smiling at you.

“I’ve told you so many times before that, no, I do not find them funny. We do not share the same sense of humour. Charles is right, you shouldn’t be so casual with me. We may be friends in your mind, but I’m still your professor, and I deserve at least a minimal amount of respect.”

Whew, that made even me sweat. Charles’ voice cackled in your mind.

Peter Maximoff was rarely left speechless, so it was an eighth wonder of the world to have him staring at you with his eyes widened and mouth shut. He gulped, shocked at being scolded by his favourite — although he’d never admit it to anyone — lecturer.

It hurt you too much to leave him that way, though. You were his favourite for a reason…that reason being how gracious you were to his faults that seemed to be never-ending. Relenting, you cracked a smile and used your powers to jolt him out of his daze and confusion. The sound of your chortling hit him with the reality behind the situation.

“Just messing with you, kid. I think you broke your own record for the longest time of being speechless.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned in effort to mask his relief, not wanting to admit she actually did get him back for once. “Unbelievable.”

“Serves you right for always making fun of me. I’m not kidding when I say it’s annoying!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you feel better, grandma.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, “At least I’m not the one with greying hair.”

Peter frowned and opened his mouth, about to fire back a retort but you stopped him by laughing and ruffling his grey strands, “C’mon kid, just eat your food and say goodnight. Careful though, don’t choke.”

Your feet carried you over to your original destination, the intent of loading the dishwasher now appearing at the forefront of tour mind, but it was halted immediately.

As if someone had pushed him forward, Peter sped over to the sink area before you could even turn around, mumbling something about doing the dishes. You glanced curiously at the smiling telepath who simply gave you a shrug in return.

You bid your farewells to everyone again, Peter’s quip of ‘g’night’ not escaping you either when you went to pat him on the back affectionately.

A patiently waiting Erik tugged at your hand, clasping it in his own as he led you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, swinging your hands in tandem with his.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” You worriedly asked aloud, suddenly very concerned that Peter wasn’t aware you had been joking. The role you played in his life was somewhat maternal, and you didn’t want him to think you were actually being curt with him.

“Who? Peter?” Erik gave you a sideways glance, “That boy’s smarter than he seems, he knows what you were doing. Don’t worry so much, darling. With how fast he moves, I’m sure his mind has moved on to other things by now.”

You hummed in reply, pleased with his answer. “Sometimes I think you might be the resident telepath with how good you are at reading my mind.”

“That’s just called being married to each other, my dear.”

———

“Y/N!” The sound of his sing-song voice was not what alerted you to Peter’s presence, nor was it the sound of his shoes squeaking before he rushed over with his powers, instead, it was the lack of formality. He never called you Professor or anything of the sort.

You never chided him for it, in fact, you’d be lying if you said you preferred the title as a prefix to your name. While many of your students were comfortable addressing you as such, anyone who felt more at ease with calling you by just your name was welcome to do so.

You had a first-year call you Mrs. Lehnsherr back then, when you and your husband were just newlyweds, but Erik was quick to remind them that if they wished to call you by your last name, it was to be Professor Lehnsherr instead, because, in his words, your accomplishments were not to be diminished and should be rightfully addressed.

It led to a whole debacle of mix-ups with two Prof. Lehnsherr’s roaming the hallways, which was a minor problem compared to the confusion of the paperwork.

The days of “Professor Lehnsherr?” “Yes?” “Sorry, not you Professor Lehnsherr, I meant you…Professor Lehnsherr,” had to come to an end, so you settled for whatever it is your students decided to call you…as long as it wasn’t demeaning.

However, no one called you Y/N, just Y/N, but the one and only Peter Maximoff himself.

The young man sped towards you, his hair swaying behind him from the strong gush of wind even as he came to a still in front of you.

“Pete!” You mocked the way he called you, using the same tone.

He gave you a playfully disgruntled look before quickly reaching into his backpack — which looked more like a knapsack, actually — to retrieve a cylindrical object and hand it to you nonchalantly. As soon you wrapped your fingers around it, he sped away again, a quick and impish ‘byeeee’ being the last thing within your earshot before the gush of wind took over your senses again.

It wasn’t until your day ended that you finally had the time to completely relax, stretching your legs and unbuckling your high-waisted, straight-legged pants. You wiggled your toes, sore from being in heels all day, as you relaxed into putty on yours and Erik’s shared bed.

Speaking of the devil — Erik came in not long after, tossing his shoes off and setting his things down on the bench next to your door before throwing himself on the bed next to you, also instantly letting himself relax.

He leaned closer to your side, laying his head on your chest and draping an arm over your stomach. Muscle memory kicked in as your fingers immediately found their way to run through his hair, a familiar habit between the two of you. He closed his eyes as the sweet, heavenly endorphins that came with the satisfaction of your touch washed over his body.

“How was your day?” He mumbled, too lazy to form his words properly.

“Pretty interesting. Finally convinced Logan to come to one of my classes next week. Students have been begging like crazy to meet him.” It was a history project, of which you and the Wolverine were both well-acquainted with, given your ages. “I’m getting the feeling that they think he’s a cooler teacher than I am.”

That made your husband laugh, the sound reverberating as you continued to cradle his head on your chest. “All of the students think Logan is cooler than any of us.”

“It’s not fair, isn’t it?”

“He’s like a mystery, that’s why. Never around long enough to be the one who yells at them for almost burning the school down.” He was talking, but his lips were barely moving and his eyelids were fluttering shut. You smiled softly, trying your best to keep your movements minimal as you continued your ritual to help him sleep.

“Like a cool uncle, then.”

“Yes.” A beat passed, then he spoke again when he remembered what he meant to tell you earlier. “Peter was in my class today.”

“Yeah?” You were slowly falling asleep as well, eyes half lidded and muscles starting to feel limp.

“He spent the whole of it with his head down, though.”

The very image of that made your eyes shoot open, all hints of sleep gone. “Why? What happened?”

It was unlike Peter to be uneventful — he was always doing something , be it throwing spitballs or participating in a one-sided blinking contest with whoever’s teaching in front.

“Nothing.” Erik mumbled groggily. “He was just…working on…something.”

Your skin itched and your eyebrows strained, discomfort firing up every synapse as you went through all the possible reasons. Then, your last interaction dawned on you.

“Honey, I know you’re almost asleep, so can you please hand me my bag on the bench?”

Without saying a word, he raised the arm resting on your body and used his powers to float it towards you, the metal handles clanking together when he dropped it carefully in your grip.

You didn’t have to move your sleeping husband to grab the cylinder you were thinking about, but you did almost startle him when his snores made you lose your grip on the bag.

He didn’t notice, too busy dozing off to even pay attention to what you were currently doing. You quietly unwrapped the roll of paper, barely caring about the sound of it crinkling — you knew your husband could sleep through anything when he was in your arms — since Erik’s snores were louder anyway.

The contents were confusing at first, you had to read it twice to understand that it was a voucher of some sort. With your arm still around Erik’s head, you used what restricted movement you had with your one free arm and just your hand to flip the paper over.

“What is this, Peter?” You mumbled to yourself, reaching for your glasses on the nightstand. Your vision weakened even in your abnormal age, and being far sighted was something you dealt with long before the triple digits hit you.

As if on cue, the answer to your rhetorical question was answered by the scrawling on the back which you recognised as Peter’s boyish handwriting.

‘Sorry for calling you old all the time. You know I’m just kidding. Thank you for always being so cool with me. Hope you like the vouchers for free ice cream. One’s for Erik too. - P.M’

Next to his initials was a doodle of a face with sunglasses on, a two-toothed grin to go with it. It was hard to wipe the pleasant smile off your face, so you kept it on, succumbing to the bubbly feeling. Peter was like a little brother that you couldn’t hate no matter how much you wanted to — you’d even go so far to say he was the son you never had.

You flipped it again, only noticing the name of the store being dairy goods related as you read through it for the third time. It still left you confused, since there was no sign of anything being free printed on it.

That’s when your eyes landed on the italicised font at the very bottom, bold red asterisks between the phrase.

* SENIOR CITIZENS GET 1 FREE CONE . *

Quickly, you turned it around to look at what you thought was an innocent letter written by one seemingly apologetic speedster. You didn’t miss the joke this time, written in very, very emboldened ink, so roughly scratched on the surface you wondered how you missed it in the first place. The smile you had on dimpled into a disbelieving simper.

P.S. HOPE YOU ARE WEARING YOUR GRANDMA GLASSES :D

[themultifandomgal]

Michael Gray- Cryptic Pregnancy

This was requested! Hope you enjoy

"Do I have to?" I whine entering holding onto my husbands arm

"Yes. Your part of the family and this is a family meeting" Michael tells me

"I know, it's just I'm not feeling good today. I've been having cramps. I think my monthly is on its way" I sigh

"We won't be long" Michael tells me as we enter the betting shop where the rest of the family are waiting

"I hope so. I just want to go back home and go to bed"

"Ah Michael, YN it's good of you to finally join us"

"Sorry Tommy" Michael replies

"Having some fun aye" John winks towards us, but then earns a nudge off Esme

"YN isn't feeling well so can we make this quick"

"Alright then let's get this meeting started" Tommy takes a seat in his office chair. I sit down next to Michael trying to breath through the cramps.

As the meeting goes on the cramps get worse and worse. I'm no longer paying attention to what anyone is saying. I've never had cramps like yheee before

"YN what do you think?" I quickly look up at Tommy

"I erm, I'm sorry Tommy I didn't..." just then another huge cramp overcomes me "fuck somethings wrong. This isn't my monthly" I cry out. Michael is looking around nervously. Polly is by my side in a second

"Mum what's going on? What's wrong with YN"

"I don't know, but let's get her up and lay her down on the sofa over there" Polly nods to the sofa behind us. As I stand up water gushes down my legs and I'm in even more pain

"Shit"

"Did you just piss yourself?" John asks frowning

"No she didn't. Her waters have broken"

"What?" I shout looking at Esme who's eyes are wide "I'm not pregnant, I would have known"

"Ok let's just lay you down and then I want to take a look at you" Polly says as we slowly walk over to the sofa "all of you out" she snaps "Esme, Ada you two stay and help"

"Polly how can I be pregnant?" I cry now feeling scared "I've been having my bleed and my stomach hasn't grown or my breasts" I cry

"It's rare but I've heard it can happen" Esme tells me as Polly hoists my knees up and takes off my underwear

"Bloody hell love, I can see the head"

"No no no Polly this isn't happening"

"It is whether any of us like it or not. Ok on your next contraction I need you to push ok?" Esme and Ada take both my hands and give them a squeeze

"I can't do this. I'm not ready"

"You might not be but little one surly is"

"YN you can do this. Trust me, I know it hurts and your confused, but your about to be a mum. So listen to Polly, yeah?"

"Ok" I take in a deep breath and do as I'm told. On my next contraction I push with all my might

"Ok the heads out. Not long to go now YN. Your doing so well"

That afternoon I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. I hold her in my arms, wrapped up in one of the Shelby brothers discarded blazers

"You ready for Michael to see you and the baby?" Polly asks me

"Yeah" I smile not taking my eyes off my baby girl. The door opens and in walks a stressed looking Michael

"Holy shit" he rubs a hand over his face making his way over to me

"She's a girl. I thought maybe we could name her after your sister, Anna"

"Beautiful" he kisses the crown of my head. In walks the rest of the Shelby's

"What the bloody hell happened? Why didn't you tell any of us that you were pregnant? How the fuck did you manage to hid this?" Arthur asks walking in

"I had no idea. Shit we don't have anything" I look up to Michael worriedly

"Don't worry. John and I will gather some of our things for you"

"Thank you Es" I look back at Michael "would you like to hold her?" tear threaten to fall as he nods his head. I place her gently in his arms, and I can see he's in love with her immediately

"I'll bring the car around. Drive you guys home" Tommy says leaving the room

"Is that my bloody blazer?" John asks

"I'll buy you a new one" Michael waves him off

"Well what a way to tell your kid how she was brought into the world" Arthur moves to look at the baby girl "congratulations, your going to be wonderful parents"

"Thank you Arthur"

In that moment a part of me that I didn't know was missing feels complete. My little family.

[wonderlanddreamer]

What I think the Shelby's love languages are with zero explanation -

Tommy: Acts of service.

Arthur: Physical touch.

John & Ada: Quality Time.

Polly & Finn: Words of Affirmation.

Michael: Recieving Gifts.

[bettythemouse]

Tommy Shelby Headcannon

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first writing post on my new account, any advice or criticism is greatly appreciated, please let me know what you think!

He sees you for the first time:

• Tommy seeing you for the first time would distract him greatly

• He’d be drinking at the Garrison, watching Arthur and John make drunken fools of themselves

• He’d go out for a smoke alone after a while, to catch his breath and concentrate on his thoughts

• And you?

• You’d be outside in the cold, smoking a cigarette of your own just a few meters away

• You wouldn’t dare go to the Garrison alone, despite how much you’d wanted a drink

• But Tommy would take the cig from his mouth, exhale, look around a bit

• and lay his eyes on you

• you

• Who were you?

• Suddenly all the plots and schemes and money stopped in his mind. He was distracted. Heavily distracted. Had he been talking with someone before seeing you, he would’ve shut up

• You didn’t see him yet. Even if you had, he stood without light in his face so you wouldn’t have recognised him or even realised who he was looking at

• But Tommy could see your face. He could see every detail, the mole on your cheek, the cupid shaped lip, the slight scowl on your face when ash blew onto your coat. And he was completely mesmerised

• You finished your cigarette, threw it to the ground and stamped on it. Cleared your throat and got ready to continue your walk-

• “Oh!”

• “My apologies.”

• “No, no, it was my fault, I couldn’t see where I was going.”

• You had unexpectedly bumped into someone. You couldn’t see them but you could tell they were male

• And polite

• You smiled at them, despite not fully being able to see their face and continued on your way, a little embarrassed

• And Tommy watched you. Watched you trail off into the night. And although he couldn’t see your face anymore, he was still mesmerised.

• And he knew

• Somehow

• That he’d see you again

[darkumbreon91]

Top two favorite villains / crushes.

Sylar (Gabriel Gray)

Magneto (Erik Lehnsherr)

[imaginesforeveryone]

The Sister

Pairing: Michael Grey x Y/N Warning: very very much flirting, sassy reader,  Summary: It was your eldest sisters wedding day. As she married into the Shelby family despite that words that were spoken about the Shelby boy she was due to marry she didn’t care. But for you, you never listened to your family and their arrogance. So any chance you had to piss them off, you did.

It was the day of your Eldest sister, Grace’s, wedding day. Today was the day she married Thomas Shelby. As most people say, the most dangerous man in England. 

Standing at the alter as Grace’s maid of honor, in the beautiful church they were about to marry in. Looking over to your family seeing them look over at the Shelby side of the church in disgust. They were loud, laughing, just a mess a bit over there. Something you envied in a family sometimes. Very rarely did your family, laugh with each other. Scanning the other side, but instantly stopping at a younger man who sat beside Ada, the sister of Thomas Shelby. He played with a little boy dangling him over the railing as he laughed with Ada. He was, beautiful. You don’t know what your family would do if another one of you were to have interactions with another boy from the Shelby’s. But then again, you never really gave a shit what they thought. Between you and Grace, you’ve always been the “wild child” as your family explained. Grace normally always followed the wishes of you uncle who became a father figure to you and Grace after the death of your parents. But, that was okay. Need something a little spice in your life to keep it interesting since there wasn’t much else for you to do. 

You thought to yourself how crazy it was standing next to not one but two Shelby brothers so close and not really having any fear of them. If a normal person on the street was to get this close to them, they’d be shitting them selves. As music began to sound the doors opened in front of you. You stood tall and with the bouquet in front of you and a smile on your face. As the doors opened and black priest walked through the door. You family was dumbfounded. Watching their faces as he walked down the aisle to the alter you couldn’t help but laughed a little at their faces. Looking over at the Shelby side again, and instantly attaching your eyes to that man again. But, this time he wasn’t distracted by the child that now sat on his lap. He was looking back at you. Full eye contact. He raised an eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help but blush little and smile. As the brides song played you focused back at the door. You uncle walking with Graces hand settle on the back of his hand. She looked stunning, even though you couldn’t see her face. You saw her all ready before the ceremony began. As she made her way down the aisle, could help but feel eyes on you still. Looking over just a little from the corner of your eye, he still had his eyes glued on you. As the ceremony went on, Grace, and Thomas said they words, then shortly after came their “I do’s.” Smiling at the smile that crossed you sisters face made you so happy. You interlocked arms with Arthur who stood as the best man to Thomas, and began to walk out of the church. Looking over at him one more time, he had different look in his eyes as he watched you walk away. 

“Michael.” You heard Arthur say breaking your deep thought of the man. 

“What?” You asked almost at the doors of the church. 

“Michael is his name love. Just to get you ahead of the game.” He said once more.

“Welcome to the family love.” Arthur said as you exited the building waiting for everyone else to come out. As they all came pouring out of the church you smiled as you saw Grace with the biggest smile on her face.

“Congratulations sister. So happy to see you so happy.” You said pulling her into a hug. 

“You have no clue how happy I am Y/N, and to have you by my side made it so much better.” She said almost in tears. You smiled and engulfed her in a hug. 

“Come on lets take this picture!” You heard Arthur yell, standing beside Grace on the stairs and moments after getting yourself set you felt a presence behind you. 

“Okay if I stand here?” You heard a deep English accent ask. Turning to see the man you were eye fucking not even 20 minutes ago in a place of worship, with a cigarette hanging out of him mouth. You took the cigarette out of his mouth and took a drag, then putting it back in his mouth.

“Of course.” You said with a smile as he slightly grinned back at you. You felt him get a little closer to you as people started piling in around you. 

“Sorry Miss.” He said as he was pretty much on top of you. 

“Y/N.” You said to him before turning your head back to where the camera sat ready for the picture. As the flash went off, after everyone dispurst from the steps. As Grace walked to the carriage with her new husband you tried to gather some warmth under your very thin shawl. Feeling a jacket lay over your shoulders confused as to what was going on saw it was Michael who noticed you were cold. 

Wow, don’t even know the guy. But, what a gentleman. Didn’t expect that out of the Shelby family from all the words you have heard of them. You smiled and he walked passed you to link arms with an older women as you guys began to walk to the house for the reception. 

“I’m Ada.” You heard a women say walk up beside you. 

“Hi Ada. I’m Y/n.” You said with a smile and shaking her hand. 

“I’m Thomas’ sister, and your Grace’s sister.” She said to you. 

“Looks like we are the sisters huh?” You said with a giggle. 

“Looks like it.” She also giggled back. As everyone one walked to the house together you had casual small talk with Ada and also met her son Carl. Which was the boy Michael had with him in the church. Finally getting into the house. This place was, massive. You’ve been to castles in your life. But this one was more of a home than somewhere where the military meets. Everyone going their separate ways and you kind of being left by yourself. Walking around the house seeing all the beautiful decorations, the beautiful paintings. The one of Grace was absolutely stunning. Realizing you were still wearing Michaels jacket as his musk wafted off of it.

Should probably get this back to him.

You thought to yourself. Walking a bit more trying to see if you could find him. You saw him finally as he rounded the corner and down some stairs behind Arthur. Pushing through the crowd of people to get to where he was going before you lost site of him. 

God damn this place is huge. He needs a map for this fucking place. 

You thought to yourself getting to the stairs. Walking down them you heard Thomas yelling at everyone in the kitchen. 

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” You saw him say in all the guys faces. As you rounded the corner everyone went silent. Thomas confused by it, before he turned around and a smile settling on your face.

“Y/N! Come on over.” Thomas said motioning you over to him. 

“Everyone this is Y/N my new sister in law. Y/N everyone. Everyone Y/N.” you smiled and gave a nervous hand wave to everyone around the room. 

“I was just coming down to give Michael his jacket back before it got lost.” You said speaking up breaking the silence. Looking at him as he leaned against the wall behind him with smoking pouring out of him mouth. 

“Mikey boy!!!! Get it!!!!” You heard the little Shelby brother say. You laughed and walked up to Michael giving him his jacket. 

“I’ll see you around.” You said with a winking and walking away. 

As the night went on you made tons of new friends with the Shelby family, and the Lee family. They were all so different from what you knew in your life. They were funny, outgoing, crazy but in a kind of good way. As you danced your heart out on the dance floor with everyone a man came on over the microphone.

“If everyone can make way for the bride and groom first dance.” You smiled and stepped off to the side holding your shawl around you as you watched Grace in Thomas’ embrace. Smiled at how big he smiled. How happy he makes her. Feeling a figure step near you on your right side a little closer then the rest, your turned your head to look to see who it was. It was Michael.

“Well hello.” You said with a smirk and a giggle feeling the wine getting to your brain. 

“Hello.” He said taking a drag off his cigarette as you did the same. 

“You may all join.” You heard the man say after a few minutes of the Grace and Thomas dancing. 

“Can I have this dance?” He asked stepping in front of you with his hand out.

“Of course Mr. Grey.” You said with a smile and laying your hand his his large soft hand. Stepping forward onto the dance floor and laying a hand on his shoulder has he softly set his other on the small of your back.

“So Mr.Grey tell me about yourself.” You said look up to him only inches from his face now.

“We’ll not much to me. I do finances for for the Shelby company. My mom is Polly, and I’m just Michael.” He said looking back down at you. 

“I’ve heard other things you guys participate in. Why do you look so different from the rest? Very professional, not super rugged.” You asked motioning towards the room. 

“Well love, that’s the point. I’m not supposed to look like the others. But, I got your attentions right? So I guess it’s good I look different.” She spoke softly to you. As you blushed and giggled you turned your head to look over at Grace & Thomas. Grace smiling at you mouthing “get it.” She said, know full well how much it would piss your uncle off. As you thought of that scanning the room to find him staring at you, and it wasn’t a good stare. Smiling you looked back up at Michael.

“So miss. Burgess, would you like to take this party somewhere a bit more quiet so I can get to know you.” He said staring down into your eyes. 

“I would love to.” You said knowing full well your uncle was about to watch you walk away with one of the Peaky Boys. he took your hand in his and walked out of the loud room, down the hall, into a office that only had 2 dimly lit candles illuminating the room. Sitting on the big couch and tossing your purse to the side of you. Michael sitting in the chair on the other side of the table. 

“So Miss. Burgess. Have you enjoyed your stay so far in England?” Michael asked lighting up a cigarette and handing it to you along side a glass of whiskey. 

“I have. It’s a very beautiful place out here in the country. But also something that gets me about London. The tall buildings, the rush of working people on the street trying to get where they are going. I don’t have that where I live back in Ireland. Pretty small town. Everyone know everyone. But, also beautiful like it is here in the country. Beautiful green grass, very quiet.” You went on talking about your home town and how you grew up and just about your life to a stranger you met only hours ago. 

“So Michael, I’ve been hearing about about cocaine floating around this party?” You asked after finishing one of your stories about you and your family. He raised an eye brow and sat up in his chair. Lifting the front of his jacket open and pulling out a small vial that had white powder in it and setting it on the table.

“We call it snow.” He said look back at you. You got up off the couch and sat on the ground in front of it. 

“Here I’ll show you.” He said leaning forward in his chair and taking the cork out of the vial. 

“First you put a little down. Then you cut the snow.” He said taking out a razor blade from his jacket pocket and began to, well, cut the snow. 

“Then you put it in a line.” He said as he scooted the white powder around to put it in a line.

“Then.” He said setting the razor down and pulling out a bill and rolling it up tight as if it were a straw. Handing it over to you, you took it in your hand.

“You won’t do any?” You asked.

“No I’m okay.” He said sitting back in his chair and cross his legs watching you very closely. You pushed the left side of your nose in, and put the bill up to your other nostril and inhaled the line. Giggling a bit after you did, and so did Michael. Wiping your nose and hold your hand out to give him his money back. 

“Keep it.” He said taking a drag from his cigarette. You let out a breathy laugh and stood up.

“Mr. Grey. I don’t need your money, nor do I want it.” You said walking slowly around the table to where he sat. Stopping directly in front of him, stepping between his legs. 

“I’m not a whore love.” You said bending over in front of him and putting the bill in his front pocket. Standing up straight, turning around and grabbing your purse off the couch. 

“Thank you for the snow Mr. Grey.” You said turning towards him as he now he stood up in front of his chair. In one swift move he had you pushed up against the door that you were about to leave out of.

“Miss. Burgess, the one thing I didn’t tell you about me is I do not like being teased. I don’t like having things I want dangled in front of me, and guess what?” He said grabbing your face in his hands.

“I want you.” He whispered and smashed his lips into yours. Taking he’s soft bottom lip between your teeth causing a low growl to come out of him. He lifted you off your feet and you wrapped your legs around him. As he carried you over to the couch and laying you down on it, now between your legs kissing up and down your neck. A few moments later you heard a knock at the door.

“FUCK OFF!” Michael yelled. 

“Who the fuck are you telling to fuck off?” You heard as the door opened. Shooting up to look over the couch to see who it was. It was Arthur

“Oh shit.” Arthur said threw laughter. 

“What Arthur?” Michael asked standing up as he buttoned the top button of his shirt that at some point came undone. 

“Dinner is ready and Grace is looking for her sister.” He said still not able to contain his laughter. 

“Thank you Arthur.” He said helping you up off the couch. Embarrassed as all you walked to the door and passed Arthur. 

“Miss.” He said bowing his head at you with laughter still under his breathe. 

“Mikey boy!” You heard faintly behind you. Smiling to yourself as you walked down the hall. You saw a tall women, with short black hair, in a blue sparkly dress practically running passed you. 

“FUCK PARISH BASTARD!” She screamed walking towards Arthur and Michael. It wasn’t any of your business so you just kept walking. Rounding the corner to head to the dining room and sitting beside your uncle. 

“Where were you?” He asked after a few moments of silence from your side of the table as Ada talked about politics to one of your family members across the table. 

“I was looking around the house. It’s quite a beautiful place.” You spoke to him, but looked passed him as you saw Arthur, Michael, and the tall slender women walk into the room. Michael had a cigarette dangling between the lips you were moments ago were attached to. Giving you a wink as he sat across from you at the table.

“Don’t worry love, we will be back home in due time.” You uncle spoke. 

It hit you that you were going to be leaving this place in just a day. You didn’t want to. Yes, you’ve only been here a few days, but you fell in love with England. It was beautiful. Then there was Michael. You didn’t know if it would turn into more than a fuck, but you wanted to stay and find out. 

“To the bride.” Thomas said breaking you from your thoughts. You stood as everyone else did with a whiskey in your hand and holding it out towards Grace as she smiled at everyone around the room. 

“The bride.” Everyone spoke and took a sip of their drinks, and sitting back down.

“Now, according to traditions. My best man to say a few words.” Thomas spoke with a bit of nervousness in his voice and sat back down.

“Go on! Here he goes! Go on, Arthur!” John yelled over to him and pulling your attention towards him and only a spot over Michael sat, who very intently looked at you. As if you were a project he couldn’t seem to figure out. 

“I’m not one for speeches.” Arthur said standing. 

“Sing then!” John yelled at causing you to giggle a bit. 

“I will later John” He spoke to his brother. 

“But I do have some words written down here.” Stuttering over a few of his words. It as weird seeing a Shelby man so nervous. 

“On this piece of paper.” He said grabbing the paper out of his jacket pocket that laid on the back of the chair.

“This doesn’t include everything that I want to say.” He said look up from the paper around the room. 

“But, first a few words from the heart.” He said stuttering over a few of his word. 

“The is man here, my brother Tommy. Helped me survive through some of the worst times.” Arthur some with emotion. Thomas clearing his throat as it was a way of telling Arthur to shut up and just read what’s on the paper. 

“Its a wedding, Arthur, tell a joke.” Michael spoke up looking over at him. Looking at Michael who had a look of nervousness on his face. You had no clue what the hell was going on. But they all acted very weird. Michael looking back over at you and giving you a soft smile. As Arthur went on with what he wanted to say anyways and Thomas stopping him before he could say anything else, other then what was written in that piece of paper he didn’t read from. 

“To peace, to love, to marriage.” Thomas said standing up as everyone else did with their drinks in the air. Looking over at Michael who had a worry in his eye that was settling. He took a drag off of his cigarette. Watching his lips as he did so and trying not to think back at how soft they were on yours. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to see what this man had to offer, and you believed he wanted to show you too

[fakeuwus]

MANEATER | SIM JAEYUN (M)

PAIRING: virgin!jake x yn (femreader)

SYNOPSIS: in which jake is tired of being a virgin and you're asked to help him out.

WARNINGS: smut so MDNI! vrignity loss, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe out there), creampie, riding, multiple orgasms, etc. cursing, words like slut/whore, BARELY PROOFREAD

WC: 5k, lowercase intended

MESSAGE FROM NIC: here it finally is!! (sorry for the delay) my first piece of smut,,, hope it's what everyone imagined 😁 (also tysm for 2k notes on the teaser ahh!!) big thank u to my stella, @karinasbaby for encouraging this fic, one of my biggest supporters ilysm. pls be kind as this is something new for me BUT feedback is super appreciated, tell me what u liked and didn't like! (respectfully) also reblogs would be nice as well so feel free to drop one. love u guys sm 🫶🏼

jake sim was a virgin. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. and it’s not like he was ugly. not even close to that. jake was an attractive guy, easy on the eyes. and his flirting? a real smooth talker he was.

it was as if 2000s chad michael murray possessed his very soul every single time he would chat up a girl at a party or in class. 

so why couldn't he ever close the deal? how did he find himself in a steamy makeout session one second and then the next the girl is storming out of the room in disgust. every. single. time.

oh yea, because he was a fucking virgin. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. 

it seemed like girls these days wanted a man in charge. someone who could help them live out their fifty shades of grey fantasies. jake would like to think he could do that for them but how could he ever learn if no one wanted to give him the time of day? what happened to the girls that would spread their legs for anything and anyone?

all jake needed was one chance. one chance to stick his dick in a hole and he can move on with his life. 

his friends didn't make it any better either. he was getting tired of hearing all about their wild sexcapades every week and having nothing to contribute to the conversation.

but they don’t intentionally leave him out or make him feel bad about his lack of experience. they even try getting him with their past hookups because you know, sharing is caring right? 

“dude no way you fumbled sora. she’s a real slut i was so sure she would let you hit,” sunghoon says as he’s unwrapping his sandwich then taking a bite. “bro i didn't fumble anything. it's the same shit every time, once i tell them im a virgin they dip,” jake responds while he steals sunghoon’s sandwich and takes a bite for himself.

sunghoon doesn't even argue, his best friend is clearly in distress and is need of some food. “she started ranting about how she doesnt “do” virgins because they get attached and she thinks im gonna become obsessed with her or something.”

“why do you even tell them you’re a virgin in the first place? if that's the issue why even say anything at all?” heeseung questions with a mouth full of the same sandwich that somehow now ended up in his hands.

“because if he cums in .2 seconds then the girls are gonna think he’s a bad fuck. there's no winning here.” jake nods in agreement with jay's statement as he watches jay snatch the sandwich from heeseung and finish it off.

this is what is so beautiful about their friendship. they share everything with each other, the main things being girls and food. unfortunately for jake, bites of food is all he gets.

—-----------------

“oh fuck!” jakes pants while bucking his hips forward. vision blurry, drool pooling around the corner of his mouth. he genuinely feels like his soul is leaving his body and he wasn’t sure this was even real life anymore. to ground himself and bring him back to reality, he tries looking around the room to find something to distract him.

he doesn’t want to cum embarrassingly fast and he does NOT want to be seen as a bad fuck. out of the corner of his eye he spots a baby yoda squishmallow in the corner of the room, its sparkly eyes watching jake get his dick sucked for the first time.

it’s kind of weird but he finds comfort in the plushie and focuses on it to keep him from fucking exploding. 

now you might be wondering how he got here. in a hot girl’s room getting what he swears is the best head in his life (not that he has anything to compare it to.) the answer is jay, his best friend in the entire world who he now owes his first born to. 

���her name’s yn. just text her and ask when she wants to meet. i told her you were a virgin already so don’t worry about that,” jay explains as he’s scrolling through your profile showing jake what you look like.

silky, flowy hair, curves to die for. to say you’re gorgeous would be an understatement. the whole ordeal seemed too good to be true.

“she wants to fuck me? even after hearing i’m a virgin?” jake asks after grabbing his milk tea from the counter and walking towards a table.

jay simply nods and throws a look towards sunghoon, signaling him to explain the rest as they all take a seat. “yea that’s kind of her thing. she loves virgins. like, her body count consists of only virgins.”

jake was perplexed by the situation. surely he’d hear about a beautiful woman who only drops her panties for inexperienced guys roaming their campus.

heeseung then speaks up, as if reading jake’s mind, “she goes to the college in the next town over. around a 20 minute drive.” before continuing his sentence he shifts his eyes towards jay and sunghoon. eyeballs darting back and forth.

some unspoken dialogue is happening between the three as they sip their sweet drinks and jake just has to sit there and watch. minutes go by and jay clears his throat and sighs, finally breaking the silence.

“she uh, actually took all of our virginities back in high school. that’s how we know her.” 

pause. the fuck? he knew his friends all have gotten their dicks wet for the same girl before but at the same time? jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. i mean, he did only just meet them three years ago, whatever they were up to before then he can’t judge.

he supposes desperate times call for desperate measures, and jake is sure he would’ve ended up in the same situation soon if they weren’t handing you on a silver platter to him.

“so… you guys had a foursome for your first times??”

heeseung instantly chokes on his boba as jake’s arm receives a punch from jay. a faint giggle is heard from sunghoon, “this bitch is choking on some balls.”

ignoring heeseung’s dramatics jay clarifies, “no you idiot, she took all of our virginities separately. we weren’t as desperate as you were.”

“and like, that pussy is so heavenly. i’d be pissed having to share her with another guy at the same time.” 

“roger that, brother.”

jake looks towards the two, sunghoon rubbing heeseung’s back trying to calm him down from his almost near death over some balls. 

“care to elaborate?” 

“man why do you think we’re all sex crazed freaks? her pussy’s got some voodoo magic in it or something. our manhood didn’t begin when we watched porn for the first time together, it started with her,” jay pauses and shifts in his seat, slight discomfort in his lower region.

he looks up and pinches his nose, “fuck i’m getting hard just thinking about it.” sneaking a peek at jay’s lower half, jake can see his friend chubbing it up in his pants. nothing he’s never seen before honestly. 

but what he hadn't seen before was how his friends were reminiscing so hard on a hook up the way they were right now. and the fact that their origin story of discovering their high libidos is all because of you? he was scared shitless of what he was about to get himself into.

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

fast forward to some exchanged texts between you guys, jake found himself in your room with his pants around his ankles getting the life sucked out of him.

he quickly discovered you were very straightforward and to the point, immediately sending him your apartment address and what time to show up.

jake couldn’t argue though, all this talk about how you were gonna “change his life” and shit got him real worked up. he appreciated the fact that you skipped the small talk and went straight for his dick.

upon arriving and stepping into your living space, your lips smashed onto his and he was pushed down onto the bed. no hi, no hello. just your lucious, full lips swapping spit with his.

his hands instinctively flew to your waist, his digits gripping your plush skin as you straddle him. jake felt so in his element in the moment. making out? this is where he excels. he could do this all day if he could.

but he was here on a mission and he’ll be damned if he leaves without fucking you. or you fucking him. he was honestly down for whatever. you could ask to peg him and he would say yes.

you can sense his impatience, his face twisting in pleasure trying to savor every moment while the cogs are turning in his head, awaiting your next move. every squeeze he gave signaled that he wanted to get things moving.

you make your way down his body, peppering kisses any and everywhere leaving his skin burning. jake couldn’t believe what was about to happen.

in less than a minute he was about to get his first blowjob ever. what does he do? where do his hands go? what if he chokes you? what if he passes out from the stimulation?

before he can think of anymore what to do’s and what if’s, your mouth is on his dick and jake is seeing stars, figuratively and literally. he takes note of the little ones taped to your ceiling and thinks it’s cute.

the pink walls and plushies surrounding the two of you is such a stark contrast to your personality, or what little jake knows of you. but hey, he likes a woman with some duality to her.

“you can put your hands in my hair.”

jake finally takes a look down at you. pupils blown out, lips a bit swollen from all the sucking. you looked so, so pretty like this. he can only imagine what you look like with his cock in you.

trembling hands grab at your hair, slightly pushing you further down and a gagging noise emerges from the back of your throat. oh shit. your nose is practically meeting his pelvic bone and you aren’t letting up.

fuck it, jake thinks to himself. he was done with being patient. he starts fucking up into your mouth relentlessly, chasing the orgasm he was delaying. and you just let him.

you’re merely a hole for him in this moment and you could care less. his dick may be average in size but the girthiness of it was so delicious, you couldn’t get enough.

to make sure he reaches his high, you reach for his balls and start playing with them. his erratic thrusts combined with you squeezing his genitals he twitches in your mouth and his cum is shooting out, pooling out the sides of your lips.

and you don’t stop there. you keep going and going and jake actually feels like he’s going to pass out. “okay, okay please please!” you swallow everything he gave you and finally let him go with a pop to come up for air.

you get up and see him lying there on your bed, unmoving. eyes closed and mouth agape barely taking breaths. one might think he’s dead but this was typical.

once a guy gets to cum in a girl’s mouth for the first time they don’t know what to do with themselves. nudging him with your knee he breaks out of his trance with a lopsided smile adorning his face. god he’s adorable.

before you can suggest a break he immediately grabs you by the hips and flips you onto your back. your shorts go flying onto the floor behind him and he spreads your legs wide to prop them onto his shoulders.

his tongue immediately attaches to your clit and he starts licking you all over. slurping and sucking, as if this was his last meal on earth. he was desperate to get you to cum the way you made him and it was showing.

jake’s eating you out a little too expertly to your liking, as if he’s done this a million times. you won’t judge if he has, you’re literally the last person to judge someone’s sexual history but how is he still a virgin if he eats pussy this good?

he must’ve been met with horrible women who just used him for his mouth and left him dry. you wouldn’t do that to him though, poor guy doesn’t deserve that.

he inserts two fingers into your hole while his mouth was still working your clit. jesus christ. you didn’t notice before but his fingers were so slender and long, reaching places your own didn’t. “am i doing okay? kind of my first time.”

oh? so this was his first time eating pussy. you simply give him a nod of approval, not being able to utter a word as he dives right back in.

in all of your sexual encounters, never has there been a guy so willing to return the favor. and the fact that you didn’t even have to ask? where the fuck did jay find a guy like this? was he aware his friend was a fucking certified munch?

determined to make sure you cum, jake inserts another finger and moves his fingers in an upward motion, trying to find your spot. at least that’s what wikihow told him how to do it.

the sound of your moans and the taste of your pussy on his tongue simply feel amazing and he feels like he could come alone like this. at this point you’re panting and riding his fingers and god it’s so hot. you’re so hot.

jake finds himself humping into the mattress, trying to aid his painful hard on he’s grown since going down on you.

his wrist begins to ache with how fast he’s pumping into you but he doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll do anything to see what you look like when you reach your high.

“oh god, i’m, i’m- ahhh!” you come undone onto his mouth and hand, lips forming an o shape with the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard and he silently releases his load along with you onto the bed.

jake makes sure every single drop of your delicious juices are all licked up, driving your oversensitivity.

“so? how was i?”

you take a look at his annoyingly cute face and he’s licking all over his fingers like a lollipop. cute. gaining some of your composure, your eyes spot a wet spot on your sheets.

“wait, did you…”

“oh. sorry about that. i couldn’t help it.” jake explains with a sheepish smile and a scratch behind his head. not only is this guy a munch but he came untouched while tongue fucking you. you weren’t even sure guys like him existed, like at all.

without speaking another word, you grab the back of his neck and smash your lips onto his. tasting yourself on him has you wet all over again and you both begin to undress each other.

you detach yourself to take your shirt off and he pauses to fully look at you, drinking in every inch of your body. hands grab at your boobs and he pinches a nipple, a small moan escaping your mouth.

your body was literally to die for, the pictures on your profile barely doing you justice. and to finally be able to feel all around your curves and give your boods and ass tight squeezes was a dream come true for jake.

(he may or may not have been jerking off to the few posts you have up, counting down the days of you guys finally meeting but you didn’t have to know that)

you also took a moment to admire his body. to say jake was sculpted like a fucking greek god was an understatement, sporting a six pack and biceps to die for. veins running all over his arms and hands.

deciding it’s finally time to do the deed, you switch positions and motion for him to lay on his back. “are you ready?”

“wait! what about a condom?”

“i’m clean and i know you are so…”

“right.”

you throw your legs over his waist, now straddling him with your vagina inches from his cock. “okay, take deep breaths. i’m gonna slowly go down alright?”

jake throws a thumbs up and eagerly nods. in a moment like this he doesn’t fail to be endearing. you could literally just eat him up with how cute he was. your pussy was about to anyway.

you lace your fingers with his and slowly lower yourself onto him. there’s some intimacy with your actions and jake finds comfort in your eyes, looking at him adoringly.

it was finally fucking happening and jake couldn’t believe it. he was about to become a man. and the fact that it was you taking his virginity, a gorgeous woman who doesn’t care that he’s inexperienced and lets him hit it raw. it's really all he can ask for.

once your walls are wrapped around his tip, jake’s a goner. the little sweet moment you two shared is thrown out the window and he starts bucking his hips up into you, hard and fast.

his hands find purchase on your hips and he’s gripping them so hard you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow. you wanted to start out slow as it is his first time but it seems his thrusting says otherwise.

you press your hands against his chest and begin to move rhythmically in sync with him. jake’s eyes immediately roll back and his breathing quickens.

his hands fall to his side and he lays lifeless beneath you, letting you take full control.

all he could do was stare at the spot where his dick entered you and it was making him even more hornier. he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

your wetness didn’t help anything either. the squelching sounds indicated that you were very much enjoying this as much as he was.

“fuck you feel so good baby,” jake moans. the pet name that slips past his lips and it doesn’t go unnoticed but you also don’t question it.

for some reason the simple word made your heart jump. guys always called things like babe or even whore when they really let loose.

those never got to your head, you know they couldn’t really control themselves in the moment and you let them have their fun.

but jake has been nothing but kind to you this whole time, like he knew you were doing him a service and not the other way around.

this only fueled your desire to ensure that his sure first time exceeded his expectations so upped your menstrations. you quickly changed your pace to grind forward, backwards, and in circles making sure his dick felt every inch of you.

jake’s mind was reeling, his breath caught in his throat. he feels as if his dick was about to fall off with the way you were moving.

your body leans forward and you begin to kiss at his neck, leaving hickeys everywhere. your hot breath near his ear sends him into overdrive, must be a sensitive spot of his he never knew he had, but also how could he have known?

his hands that were once gripping the sheets meet your ass and he starts to guide you up and down his cock. you both were about to reach your climaxes, your pussy clenching with every move.

“i’m- where? fuck! where do i cum?”

“inside. cum inside me please.”

inside?? his first time cumming from sex and you were gonna let him do it inside of you? jake swears you couldn’t be any more perfect than you are right now.

you knew you threw him for a loop and honestly yourself as well. pushing these thoughts towards the back of your head you start riding him aggressively, even faster than before. “fuck, jake i’m cumming!”

“me too baby oh my god!”

and there was that damn pet name again. it makes your heart leap out of your chest and sends you over the edge.

the knot in your stomach snaps and jake follows shortly after, his load shooting into you. it pools out of you and you don’t hesitate to swipe some up with a delicate finger and bring it to your mouth, mirroring his actions from earlier.

your eyes meet his fucked out ones and you smile down at him, admiring the masterpiece of lovebites you left all over him. his vision was a bit blurry but he catches the way your lips curled upward, flashing your pearly whites.

jake finds himself instantly becoming hard again, call him easy but when a pretty girl is smiling at him like that after fucking him, can you really blame him?

you move yourself off of him and jake was fully expecting you to kick him out now but instead you position yourself on all fours, your ass in the air inviting him in.

“fuck. you’re into anal?”

you turn your head sharply to look at him over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow to question what he just said. the look you give him says it all and jake takes the hint and positions himself behind you.

“can we try anal next time though?”

an exasperated sigh leaves your lips and you reach over to grab his dick, inserting him into you. “umph! okay sorry.”

upon entering your pussy, jake relishes in the feeling of it. being inside your heat again leaves him breathless for the nth time today.

in and out. in and out. he tries to match his breathing with his gradual strokes. his member is extra sensitive right now and he’s trying not to lose himself. the impatience he had earlier has now moved onto you so you decide to take matters into your own hands and start fucking back into him.

your ass is now meeting his hips and the sound of skin slapping echoes in your room along with your moans. jake’s body is flailing from the sudden impact but he grounds his hands around your waist and grips the shit out of you.

he notices bruises forming on your skin but he can’t for the life of him let go. oops. he’ll do his best to remember to apologize for them tomorrow.

when there’s a good pace between the two of you, you fling yourself upward, back meeting his chest and the new angle has him reaching spots he didn’t before.

you take one of his strong arms and place it around your neck, having him choke you as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow. jake’s brain begins to turn to mush and he feels like he’s even more turned on at the revelation of one of your kinks.

and at this point you’re fucking onto him so hard, so good, he didn’t want it to end. “shit. shit. i love your pussy so much baby.” jake whines into your ear, meaning every word he said.

is it crazy to say you love someone upon meeting them for the first time? well, their pussy. yea. maybe. but who gives a fuck.

he was a man possessed by you, by your pussy. in this moment he truly believed there was some voodoo magic going on down there and he was blessed to be experiencing it.

you clench at his words, and your heart flips once more, prompting you to draw him closer to you (if that was even remotely possible)

the closeness of your bodies creates another intimate moment shared, kisses stolen from one another, hands tangled in his hair.

“i’m close,” he whispers in your ear, his breath leaving tingles down your spine. the hushed whispers you exchange contrast the sporadic thrusting that’s happening.

determined to reach your second high of the day, you push jake onto his back and settle yourself onto your knees, continuing to bounce up and down on his cock.

“yea just like that baby, shit shit shit i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

jake opens his eyes to watch the scene unfold before him and god was it something. your back arches as you take his cum in you once more and your screams fill his ears, signaling you orgasmed right after him.

this moment alone is better than porn itself, and jake savors every bit of it. there’s absolutely no way he can even bring himself to type “nsfw” in his twitter search bar ever again after this.

you hover yourself over him leaving just the tip inside before sliding right back down, pushing his seed back in while it gushes around his cock leaving jake wanting, no needing, a third round with you.

but to his dismay you roll yourself off of his body, landing on the mattress next to him.

“so… how do you feel?”

he releases a long exhale he didn’t know he was holding, “fantastic. 10/10 experience. would do it again.” you simply giggle at his response with a shake of your head, getting up to gather your clothes.

“wait! um, could we do this again?”

you playfully roll your eyes at him, leaving his question unanswered as you begin to dress yourself.

—-----------------

sat in his computer chair, jake is finding it difficult to finish this stupid ethics assignment. how is he supposed to argue about the death penalty when you straight up almost murdered him with your pussy less than 2 hours ago?

he’s sure his professor wouldn’t appreciate if he wrote that he doesn’t give a fuck about someone serving their punishment if the culprit was you, but honestly speaking he’d let you get away with just about anything. you were an angel sent from above to him who could do no wrong. 

the way your soft lips wrapped around his cock while your innocent (not) eyes bored into his soul. the way you licked and kissed every single inch of his body, leaving nothing left untouched. and god, the way you worked his dick? how was he supposed to move on from you??

you were an insatiable, sex-crazed goddess. a once in a lifetime experience he was so grateful to have. 

his thoughts are interrupted by a loud knocking at his door. two seconds later, jay trails into jake’s room followed by dumb and dumber, all of them having a snug look on their faces.

they make themselves comfortable before they get right into the interrogation. jay leans against the desk, sunghoon sits in the bean bag situated in the corner, and heeseung sprawls himself across the bed.

“so virgin, how was it?”

 “wasn’t i right about her pussy?” 

“where did she make you cum?” 

eyes rolling in the back of his head, jake takes a deep sigh before answering their questions. “one, i’m not a virgin anymore so stop calling me that. two, it was absolutely fucking amazing. literally would give up heaven for it. and three, she had me cum in her. twice.”

heeseung shoots up from his position, jaw dropped and eyes wide. “you came in her twice?!” the boys all share a bewildered expression on their faces, dramatic as always.

jake just shrugs at them, what? didn’t you usually let guys cum in you like the freak you were?

jay slaps his hands down on jake’s shoulders, aggressively turning the computer chair towards him. “jake. buddy. yn has two rules.” 

sunghoon suddenly appears on jay’s left, “one. you can’t cum in her. you can cum anywhere BUT inside of her.” 

heeseung follows and is now on jay’s right side, “and two. she doesn’t repeat fuck.”

immediately following this revelation there’s silence.  complete and utter silence.  the gazes they hold are intense and uninviting. as if they truly couldn’t believe you let their best friend who’s never felt the touch of a woman break one of your rules.

their eyes say it all, they love jake to death and are happy for him, like seriously happy and relieved he’s finally entered manhood. but really? none of them got to do what he did? what was so special about him?

you don’t even know the answer to those questions yourself. maybe it was the puppy eyes or his whiny moans that made you feel like you had him in the palm of your hands.

his eagerness to pleasure you but to also receive reminded you of the sole purpose of why you only go for virgins. they made you feel wanted while also letting you be in charge. call it selfishness but why can’t a girl have the best of both worlds? 

and you’d never admit it, but jake was one of the best fucks you’ve had in a while. he never tried to be someone he wasn’t, just authentically himself. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. and he was proud of it.

it was refreshing to fuck someone who didn’t have some sort of ego right after you were done with them. immediately bragging to everyone what you two did and acting like they could pull any girl as if you weren’t doing charity work for most of them. 

with all of this in mind, of course you let him cum in you. he was doing so well for you, how could you not reward him? had to let him do it twice to drive it home.

and seriously, what kind of guy gives you a tender, sweet goodbye kiss and thanks you for defiling him? you didn’t regret your decisions with him but they were definitely scaring you. 

never have you ever been this intimate with a guy, but jake was different. you felt it. and what you did next didn’t scare you as much as your recent choices with him.

*ping!*

the staredown between jake and his friends comes to a halt and he digs his phone out of his pocket to check it. sliding up, he sees the message appear on his screen:

you: are you free tomorrow?

he glances at his friends’ expectant eyes and throws them a smirk. looks like he gets to break that second rule of yours. 

© fakeuwus 2024 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize

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[marypsue]

In that vein (hah), I just have to take a moment to gush about the costuming in The Lost Boys because. Have you seen the costuming in The Lost Boys. Like each costume standing on its own without anyone in it still gives you a sense of a whole character, which is important because some of these characters don't get, uh, lines. We have to be able to distinguish them immediately by visuals, and the thing is, we can, because they're not just dressed to look attractive, they're dressed with the purpose of establishing character.

Like, consider Michael. They kept it very simple for him, on purpose, he's a regular everyman kind of guy thrown into a Situation. But also, he's trying too hard. The white t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket call back to James Dean, Rebel Without A Cause, but the leather jacket's brand new without a scuff or a crack, not broken in, and it sits uncomfortably on his shoulders. The earring doesn't suit him - it belongs to somebody else, a funhouse mirror version of himself that he's tempted by, but also it literally belongs to somebody else. Who gave him that earring? Star's implied to have done the piercing, for him, which also tracks - the earring's a little piece of someone else, someone darker and wilder, that's been dug right down into his flesh by his association with Star. It's tasted his blood.

It's also a little piece of the boys' uniting aesthetic bleeding over onto him. There's a magpie sensibility to all of them, but then each of them are visually distinct as themselves within it.

Star's clothes have 80s cuts but form a 60s hippie silhouette, solidified in time. She's the most colourful of them all, her white tops signifying a flash of innocence, but at the same time as she climbs on David's bike, she pulls on a big black jacket that almost envelops her, a little piece of his shadow falling over her and devouring her light. Again, it doesn't quite fit her, like she's playing dressup as a darker, wilder self just like Michael is.

And speaking of David. That boy is chin to toe wrapped up in black. The coat references batwings, which is a great detail. And those gloves! He doesn't touch Star; he doesn't touch Michael; he doesn't touch the world, except through a layer of darkness. It's real Old West, white-hat-black-hat level symbolism. Except.

The real villain of the piece isn't the dangerous, sharp-edged boy in black - although of course you need to look out for him, they don't call him 'dangerous' for no reason. The real villain of the piece is the most perfectly conventional, middle-class, unassuming, don't-look-twice take-him-home-to-mother normal guy imaginable. Grey and beige. Business casual.

It's the perfect camouflage for a predator.

(And then also like. I can't wax as poetic about it right now because my brain cells are otherwise occupied. But please consider how much character is there in, like, the Frogs' army-surplus duds and Sam's terrible, incredible shirts.)

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Burning Embers

Possessive! Thomas Shelby x Pregnant! Reader

Summary: Thomas would burn the world down then not be able to hear you call his name again.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Warnings:

Possessive! Thomas, arson, gunshots, death, kissing, then lovey dovey stuff from Thomas.

Inspiration: Let the world burn - Chris Grey

The Garrison was a cacophony of noise, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The dim light of the gas lamps cast a warm, golden glow over the worn wooden surfaces, creating an almost intimate atmosphere despite the throng of patrons. 

Thomas sat in a corner booth, his back against the wall, eyes scanning the room with a calculated indifference. His suit, impeccably tailored, clung to his frame with an air of authority. He had just finished a conversation with a couple of local businessmen, deals and threats interwoven with the ease of a man who knew his power. Arthur burst through the doors, his presence a stark contrast to the quiet control that Thomas exuded. The pub fell silent for a moment as everyone turned to look. Arthur’s face was a mask of urgency, his eyes wild. John, Finn, Michael, Isaiah, and their father followed closely behind, their expressions grim. Johnny Dogs lingered at the rear, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

"EVERYONE! CLEAR OUT! BY ORDER OF THE PEAKY FUCKING BLINDERS!" Arthur’s voice cut through the air, leaving no room for argument. The patrons scrambled to leave, their conversations halting abruptly. Chairs scraped against the floor, and the sound of hurried footsteps filled the pub as it emptied out, leaving only the Shelby clan and their close associates.

Thomas’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a dark cloud. He rose slowly, the weight of his gaze heavy on Arthur. "What's goin' on, Arthur?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a warning of the storm brewing beneath the surface. John stepped forward, it would be better if he said it; his face pale and his eyes wide with dread. "Thomas...Sabini, they found Polly's home. And you remember your wife sayin' she was goin' to talk to Polly about somethin'? Well, they fuckin' took her."

Thomas froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. His eyes darkened, filling with a cold, murderous rage. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a slow, steady drumbeat of fury. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his face twitching with barely restrained violence. He didn't speak for a moment, the silence heavy with the weight of his anger. Arthur exchanged glances with the rest of the men, seeking their silent agreement. They nodded, their faces set with determination. Arthur took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Thomas... she went to Polly because... she's havin' your kid. She's pregnant."

The room seemed to spin for a moment as Thomas processed the information. His wife, his angel in this cold, dark world, was pregnant. And now she was in the hands of his enemies. A growl escaped his throat, low and dangerous. "Those bastards..."

He turned abruptly, his mind already working through the logistics of what needed to be done. His anger sharpened his focus, turning it into a deadly precision. He barked orders to the men, his voice cold and authoritative. "Finn, get the car ready. Isaiah , gather the weapons and petrol; John, Michael, Arthur, you're comin' with me. Johnny, find out where they took her."

The men sprang into action, their movements quick and efficient. Thomas paced the room, his mind racing. He thought of his wife, her gentle smile, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him. She was the light in his life, the warmth that kept the darkness at bay. And now she was carrying his child, their future, and he would move heaven and earth to bring her back safely. He pictured her at Polly’s house, the way she would have sat at the kitchen table, her small frame dwarfed by the large wooden furniture. He imagined her talking to Polly, her voice soft and filled with excitement about the baby. And then the fear she must have felt when Sabini’s men burst in. The thought of her being scared, of her being hurt, made his blood boil. Thomas grabbed his cap, the razor blades sewn into the brim glinting ominously in the dim light. He slid it on, the familiar weight grounding him. He was Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders, and no one threatened his family without paying the price. He glanced around at his men, their faces set with the same determination he felt. They were ready, and so was he.

As they piled into the car, Thomas’s mind was a whirlwind of plans and contingencies. He ran through every possible scenario, every potential outcome. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not when so much was at stake. He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. His wife’s face floated in front of him, her eyes filled with love and trust. He wouldn’t let her down. The drive to Polly’s house was tense, the silence in the car broken only by the occasional muttered curse. Thomas stared out the window, his mind a storm of thoughts. He had always been a man of action, but this time it was different. This time it was personal. He could feel the weight of the responsibility pressing down on him, but it only made him more determined.

The Shelby family had always been a force to be reckoned with, a tight-knit unit bound by blood and an unbreakable code of loyalty. Today, that bond was tested as they stood in Polly's ransacked house, the air thick with tension and unspoken fears. Thomas, surveyed the wreckage with a cold, calculating gaze, his heart a tight knot in his chest. The familiar surroundings, now torn apart, mirrored the turmoil inside him. The signs of a struggle were everywhere. Furniture overturned, shattered glass glittering like cruel stars on the floor, and papers scattered in a chaotic swirl. Thomas’s sharp eyes took in every detail, his mind racing through the possible scenarios. His wife, the angel in his dark and brutal world, was taken. She was pregnant, carrying their future, and now she was in danger. He felt a surge of anger, a visceral, consuming rage that threatened to break his carefully maintained composure.

John and Arthur stood nearby, their faces etched with concern and barely restrained fury. Michael, younger but no less determined, clenched his fists at his sides, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Polly, ever the matriarch, sat in the corner, a bruise darkening her cheek but her spirit unbroken. Her presence was a grounding force, a reminder of the resilience that ran through their veins. Thomas approached Polly, his footsteps deliberate and measured. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the heavy breathing of the men and the creak of the floorboards under his boots. He knelt beside her, his eyes searching her face for answers. The sight of her injury ignited another flash of anger, but he pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

“Polly… how far along is she?” His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to echo in the shattered room. His accent, thick and unmistakable, lent a weight to his words that demanded attention and respect.

Polly sighed, a sound filled with fatigue and frustration. She cleared her throat, her gaze steady as she met his eyes. “Thomas, she said she thinks she’s about a month along.”

Thomas felt a tightening in his chest, a mix of fear and determination. A month. It was so early, so precarious. He couldn’t let anything happen to her, to their child. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, each more ruthless than the last. There would be a reckoning, but first, he had to find her, to bring her back safely. Thomas sat at the head of the table, his piercing blue eyes fixed on a map spread out before him. His mind was a whirlwind of strategies and contingencies, every possible outcome calculated and re-calculated. John, Arthur, and Michael flanked him, their faces set in grim determination. Polly stood nearby, her presence a steadying force amidst the chaos. The house was a sanctuary, a place where plans were hatched and lives were decided, and tonight was no different. Hours had slipped by unnoticed, consumed by the relentless pace of their search. Thomas's people had been a constant lifeline, connecting him to a web of contacts and informants. His fingers tapped impatiently against the table, a rhythm that matched the frenetic pace of his thoughts. Each call, each lead, was a thread he pulled at, trying to unravel the mystery of his wife's kidnapping. She was his anchor, his beacon in the darkness, and the thought of her in danger was a knife twisting in his gut.

John paced the length of the room, his restlessness a stark contrast to Thomas's stillness. Arthur leaned against the wall, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought to contain his frustration. Michael sat quietly, his eyes flicking between the others, absorbing their tension like a sponge. Polly moved about with purpose, her sharp eyes missing nothing, her presence a reminder of the strength and resilience that ran through their blood. The ring of the phone cut through the heavy silence, and all eyes turned to Thomas as he strode over to pick it up. The moment hung in the air, a heartbeat of expectation before Johnny Dogs' voice crackled through the receiver. Thomas's grip tightened, his knuckles white against the black of the phone. His breathing hitched for a moment, a flash of vulnerability that he quickly buried beneath a mask of steel resolve.

"Tom, I think we've found where she's at..." Johnny's voice was a lifeline, a thread of hope in the darkness.

Thomas exhaled sharply, his mind racing. "Where are they keeping her, eh?" His voice was a low growl, every syllable dripping with barely restrained fury.

"Epsom...his race track," Johnny replied, the words sending a jolt through Thomas. Epsom, the place was familiar, a playground for the rich and powerful, now a prison for his beloved.

A smile, cold and dangerous, curved Thomas's lips. "Get as much petrol as you can get your hands on..." he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. The plan was taking shape in his mind, a path of fire and blood that would lead him to her. He could already see the flames, smell the smoke, hear the screams of those who had dared to cross him.

As he hung up the phone, the room seemed to pulse with renewed energy. John stopped pacing, his eyes lighting up with a fierce determination. Arthur pushed off the wall, his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. Michael's expression hardened, his youthful face a mask of resolve. Polly nodded, her approval unspoken but clear in the set of her jaw.

"Right," Thomas began, his voice commanding the room's attention. "We move tonight. Get everything ready. We’re bringing 'er home." His eyes met each of theirs in turn, a silent vow that he would stop at nothing to rescue his wife.

The preparations began in earnest, the room a flurry of activity. Weapons were checked and rechecked, ammunition counted and distributed. Maps were consulted, routes planned with military precision. Thomas oversaw it all, his mind a whirlwind of logistics and strategy. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his senses, fueling his resolve. His thoughts drifted to her, the image of her face a constant presence in his mind. She was only a month along, carrying their future within her, and the thought of her in danger made his blood boil. He remembered the way she smiled, the light in her eyes, the softness of her touch. Thomas's jaw clenched as he thought of the men who had taken her, his mind filled with visions of retribution. They had made a fatal mistake, one they would not live to regret. His reputation was built on ruthlessness, a legacy of violence and power that had shaped him into the man he was.

They would learn the hard way that no one touched what was his and lived to tell the tale. As the last preparations were made, Thomas took a moment to himself, stepping out into the cool night air. The stars were hidden behind a blanket of clouds, the moon a faint glow in the distance. He lit a cigarette, the familiar burn of the smoke a brief comfort. He thought of her again, his heart aching with the need to hold her, to see her safe and sound. The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he turned to see Arthur approaching. His brother's face was a mirror of his own determination, a fierce loyalty burning in his eyes. They stood together in silence for a moment, the bond between them unspoken but unbreakable.

"We'll get 'er back, Tom," Arthur said, his voice a low rumble. "No matter what it takes."

The journey to Epsom was a blur of headlights and dark roads, the landscape rushing past in a haze of motion. Thomas sat in the driver's seat, his focus razor-sharp, his thoughts a relentless march of strategy and determination. His mind was a steel trap, allowing no room for doubt or fear. Beside him, his brothers John and Arthur, along with Michael, sat in silence, their shared resolve a palpable force. Each one of them was a cog in the well-oiled machine that Thomas had engineered for this night, their roles clear, their purpose unwavering. The moon cast an eerie glow over the countryside, the night cloaking the world in a shroud of darkness. The Epsom race track loomed in the distance, a shadowy fortress that held his world captive. Thomas's grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw set in a hard line. This was it, the moment of reckoning, the culmination of their relentless search. His heart pounded with a cold fury, the thought of his pregnant wife in the hands of their enemies fueling his every action.

As they neared their destination, the nighttime made the race track look more unforgiving, its skeletal structures silhouetted against the night sky. The vehicles rolled to a stop, engines cutting off in a symphony of finality. Thomas stepped out, the cool night air biting at his skin, the scent of petrol and determination thick in the air. He glanced at his brothers, their faces set in grim resolve, and nodded. It was time. Finn, Isaiah and his father, Johnny Dogs, and five families of the Lee's were already there, waiting in the shadows. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension a living, breathing entity. Thomas’s eyes swept over the assembled group, his expression hard, his blue eyes like shards of ice in the darkness. Each man here was ready to lay down his life for the cause, for the family, and Thomas felt the weight of that loyalty pressing down on him.

Thomas spoke, his voice a low, commanding growl that cut through the night. "You all will round up his men, find the ones that laid their hands on her and separate them from the rest; I'll deal with those personally." His words were met with nods of agreement, the resolve of the group solidifying around him like a fortress.

He turned to Johnny Dogs, who stood ready, a small, feral smile on his face. "How many cans of petrol did you get?" Thomas asked, his voice edged with a darkness that mirrored the night around them.

Johnny’s smile widened. "Enough to burn the whole world down, Tom."

Thomas nodded, satisfaction mingling with the cold rage that simmered just beneath his surface. He looked around at the men, their faces hard and determined. This was not just a rescue mission; it was a statement, a declaration of war. They would not leave this place without making it clear that no one touched a Shelby and lived to tell the tale. The night was alive with the sound of footsteps against the dirt, hushed voices, and the metallic click of weapons being checked and readied. Thomas moved among his men, his presence a steadying force, his commands clear and concise. He was the eye of the storm, the calm center around which the chaos would swirl. Every detail had been planned, every possibility accounted for. Now, it was just a matter of execution.

As they approached the entrance to the race track, Thomas's mind flashed back to the moment he had discovered his wife was missing. The rage he had felt then was nothing compared to what he felt now, standing on the brink of action. His love for her was a fierce, consuming fire, and the thought of her in danger had kindled a fury that would only be quenched by the blood of those who had dared to harm her. He signaled for his men to move into position, his movements precise and controlled. They spread out, slipping into the shadows, their figures blending seamlessly with the darkness. Thomas's eyes never stopped moving, scanning the area, assessing every potential threat. He felt the weight of the gun in his hand, the cold metal a comforting presence.

Inside the race track, the enemy was unaware of the storm about to descend upon them. Thomas knew they had the element of surprise, and he intended to use it to its fullest advantage. He glanced at John, who was crouched beside him, his face a mask of focused intensity. Arthur, John, Finn, Micheal and Isaiah were on other sides of the track; their positions strategically chosen to cover all exits. The first shots rang out, shattering the silence of the night. Thomas moved with a lethal grace, his every action deliberate and deadly. He saw his men engage the enemy, the flash of gunfire illuminating the darkness in brief, violent bursts. He pressed forward, his focus unerring, his goal clear. He would find her, and he would make them pay.

He caught sight of a group of men near the stables, their panicked movements betraying their fear. Thomas felt a grim satisfaction as he raised his gun, his shots precise and fatal. He moved through the chaos, his path cutting a swath of destruction, his mind a singular focus: get her back. His brothers fought alongside him, their loyalty and ferocity a testament to the bond they shared. Thomas reached the main building, kicking the door open with a force that splintered the wood. Inside, the dim light revealed a scene of chaos, men scrambling to defend themselves against the onslaught. He didn't hesitate, his movements a blur of calculated violence. He shot each of the men with ruthless efficiency, in the knees, making it nearly impossible for the to run. Thomas moved to one of the men on the floor whose moaning in pain, he grabbed him by his neck and forced him to look at him in his eyes, making him look his grim reaper in the eyes.

"I'm not done with y' yet'.." Thomas said his voice cold and calculated, he let go of his neck making him fall back against the floor on his back; the man let out another pained cry. His men would be back for them, to moved them to the front of the race track; to burn them.

The night air was thick with tension as Thomas Shelby navigated through the dimly lit stable area, his boots echoing against the cold, hard ground. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow that seeped through the cracks in the old wooden walls. His heart pounded with a fierce determination, each step bringing him closer to the back room where he hoped to find his wife. The sound of distant shouts and scuffles filtered through the air, but his focus remained unwavering. He was a man on a mission, a predator hunting in the dead of night, driven by the primal instinct to protect his own. As he approached the back room, a chilling sight greeted him. Blood stained the floor in dark, ominous patches, and drag marks indicated a struggle. A wave of cold fury washed over him. His hand clenched around the cold metal doorknob, twisting it with a deliberate force. The door swung open with a creak, and he swiftly stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room, clearing it with practiced precision. Moonlight streamed in, revealing a sight that made his heart clench: there she was, tied to a chair, her small frame illuminated by the pale glow. His wife looked up, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and fear. The sight of her, his angel, ignited a fire within him. He crossed the room in two long strides, his gun slipping back into his belt as he reached her. With deft fingers, he untied the ropes that bound her, and as soon as she was free, he pulled her into his arms. The embrace was fierce, protective, his hold on her unyielding. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just them, their hearts beating in sync, a brief respite from the chaos.

"My angel, my sweet angel..." His voice was a gravelly whisper as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. It was a scent he had missed, one that grounded him in moments of turmoil. He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes scanning for any sign of injury. Small cuts marred her delicate skin, but they were minor, nothing that would cause lasting harm.

"Still as beautiful as when I last saw you," he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips before their mouths met in a desperate kiss. It was a kiss born of pain and longing, their lips moving with a frantic intensity. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, their tongues intertwining in a dance of raw emotion. When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against hers, their breaths mingling. "I'm really going to be a father, eh?"

"You are..." Her smile was shy, yet filled with a warmth that soothed his soul.

Thomas brushed his thumb gently across her cheek, his touch tender. "Come on, let's get y' out of here, eh?" With ease, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her bridal style as he made his way back through the stables. The smell of blood and fear lingered in the air, but he paid it no mind. His focus was solely on her, his angel, safe in his arms.

As they emerged from the stables, the scene that greeted them was one of controlled chaos. John, Arthur, Michael, Finn, Isaiah, and his father, along with Johnny Dogs and the Lee families, were scattered around, unloading petrol cans. Blood stained their clothes, but it wasn’t their own. Thomas’s eyes flickered to the ground where the five men who had dared to touch his wife lay, their bodies broken and bleeding. He smirked, a dark satisfaction curling in his chest, before continuing to the car. He opened the passenger door and gently placed her inside, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Stay here, love," he whispered, his voice soft but commanding. He closed the door with a firm click, turning to face the others.

The moon was obscured by thick clouds that mirrored the murky deeds about to unfold below. The racetrack lay eerily silent, the stillness broken only by the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. Thomas stood at the center of this storm, his sharp eyes surveying the scene. His mind was a whirlwind of anger and resolve, a tempest brewing behind his cold, piercing gaze. The scent of petrol hung heavily in the air, a harbinger of the destruction to come. John and Arthur flanked him, their faces set in grim determination. Michael, Finn, Isaiah, Johnny Dogs, and the Lee family members were scattered around, ready for the signal. The air was thick with tension, a tangible force that made every breath feel heavy. Thomas’s thoughts flickered to his wife, his angel and the way they tried to use her against him; that backfired on them horribly. A fire burned in his chest, fueled by the memory of her soft voice, her gentle touch. She was his sanctuary, and they had dared to violate it.

He strode over to the five men who were the source of his ire, their bodies already bruised and battered. His presence alone seemed to make them cower. “John, Arthur,” he called, his voice a low growl. The two brothers stepped forward, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I want you to move them to the front, lean them against the walls, and soak em' in petrol.” His smile was a chilling contrast to the rage in his eyes. “If you don’t, you’ll join them as well.”

Arthur nodded, a savage grin spreading across his face. “We were going to burn em' anyway, no need to tell us.”

“Good,” Thomas replied, his tone curt. He cast a glance back at the car where his wife sat, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and understanding. She knew what was coming. She knew Thomas would not let their transgression go unpunished.

The men moved swiftly, dragging the nearly lifeless bodies to the designated spot. Petrol cans were upended, the liquid splashing onto the walls, seeping into the ground. The acrid smell grew stronger, mingling with the scent of fear emanating from the men. They were too weak to struggle, too broken to plead for mercy. Their fate was sealed the moment they had laid hands on Thomas Shelby’s wife.

It took almost an hour for the entire place to be doused in petrol, every room, every corner soaked in the flammable liquid. The task would have taken much longer if not for the combined efforts of the Shelby brothers and their allies. Thomas watched, his expression unreadable, as the preparations were completed. The fire within him mirrored the impending inferno, both consuming everything in their path. Thomas reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The flame briefly illuminated his face, casting shadows that danced across his features. Around him, the others followed suit, those who smoked taking a moment to savor the calm before the storm. They stood in a loose semicircle, the flickering embers of their cigarettes the only light in the encroaching darkness.

The men who had dared to harm his wife were propped against the walls, their eyes darting around in a futile search for escape. Thomas stepped forward, his gaze boring into them. “Let the world burn,” he said, his voice carrying a finality that sent a shiver down the spines of everyone present.

As one, they stepped back and threw their lit cigarettes into the building. The effect was immediate and devastating. Flames erupted, racing along the trails of petrol with a voracious hunger. The night was transformed into a hellscape of red, orange, and yellow, the heat searing the air. Screams of agony pierced the night as Sabini’s men were consumed by the fire, their bodies writhing in a futile attempt to escape the flames. Thomas watched with a detached satisfaction, his face bathed in the glow of the inferno. Each scream was a note in a symphony of retribution, each flicker of flame a testament to his resolve. The men’s knees had been blown out earlier, ensuring they could not flee. Now, they were prisoners of their own fate, their arms dislocated to prevent even the slightest chance of escape. The fire roared, its fury unchecked, devouring the building and everything within. The sounds of collapsing timbers and shattering glass added to the cacophony, a fitting accompaniment to the demise of those who had crossed Thomas Shelby. He turned away, his mind already moving to the next step, the next plan. There was always another move to make, another battle to fight.

Walking briskly yet purposefully, Thomas made his way back to the car. His footsteps were steady on the gravel, the sound swallowed by the roar of the fire behind him. He opened the door, the heat from the blaze momentarily flooding the car before he slid in beside her. The interior was a haven of calm, a stark contrast to the inferno outside. His wife’s eyes, wide and searching, locked onto his, seeking the reassurance only he could provide.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice low and steady, a soft rumble in the confined space. He took her small hand in his, his grip firm yet comforting. “They won’t ever hurt you again.”

She exhaled, a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and a flicker of relief crossed her delicate features. Thomas watched her, his heart a fortress against the world’s cruelty but a haven for her. He released her hand, his own moving to cup her face. His thumb brushed against her cheek, the simple touch conveying a world of unspoken promises. He leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both a balm and a blaze, a mixture of passion and unspoken love. His kiss deepened, his tongue seeking hers with a fervor that spoke of his desperation to connect, to reaffirm their bond in the midst of chaos. She responded in kind, her own need mirroring his. Their tongues danced, entwining in a symphony of shared breath and mutual desire. The kiss stretched on, each second a testament to their unbreakable connection. When he finally broke away, it was only to gaze into her eyes, his blue piercing eyes and intense, meeting her soft, doe-like gaze.

“I'd let the world burn, let the world burn for you,” he whispered, the words a vow etched in the air between them.

The fire outside continued to rage, a testament to the violence and power that defined Thomas. But here, in the car with his wife, he was just a man, deeply in love and fiercely protective. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin. The night outside was a battlefield, but inside this car, it was a sanctuary of their own making.

“Y’alright, love?” he asked softly, his accent thick, the concern in his voice palpable. She nodded, placing her hand over his, their fingers intertwining over the life they had created. It was a silent affirmation, a shared resolve to face whatever came next together.

The drive back to their home was quiet, the night around them a shroud of darkness punctuated by the distant glow of the fire. Thomas drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding hers. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers and challenges, but as long as they were together, he felt invincible. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, each one centered around ensuring their safety. His wife rested her head against his shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing a soothing rhythm. Thomas glanced at her, his heart swelling with a love so profound it bordered on pain. He had built an empire, forged a legacy in blood and fire, but she was his greatest treasure. The thought of losing her, of anything happening to her or their child, was a fear that gnawed at the edges of his mind. He pushed it aside, focusing instead on the warmth of her presence, the steady beat of her heart against his arm.

As they neared their home, the familiar sights of Small Heath came into view, but they weren't home yet; they drove till they were on the outskirts. It was quiet, the sun was starting to come up; Thomas parked the car and turned to her, his expression softening. “We’re home,” he said, the words a balm to the tension that still lingered. She smiled, a small, tired smile that spoke of her own relief.

Inside their home, the world outside seemed a distant memory. Thomas helped her out of the car, his arm around her waist as they made their way to the door. The night had been long and exhausting, but the sight of their home brought a sense of peace. He closed the door behind them, shutting out the chaos and danger, if only for a while. They moved through the house in silence, the weight of the night’s events pressing down on them. Thomas led her to their bedroom, helping her undress and settle into bed. He watched her as she drifted off to sleep, her face serene and untroubled. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply be, to let go of the burdens that constantly weighed on him.

But sleep would not come easily. Thomas stood by the window, staring out into the darkness, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and plans. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger, that the enemies they had made would not rest until they were destroyed. But as long as he had her, as long as he had their child, he would fight with everything he had. He turned back to the bed, his eyes softening as he looked at her. She was his anchor, his reason for everything. Thomas undressed quietly, slipping into bed beside her. He pulled her close, the warmth of her body a comfort against the cold reality of their world. He kissed her forehead, a silent vow to protect and cherish her, no matter the cost.

As he lay there, his mind finally began to quiet. The night’s events would leave scars, but they would also strengthen the resolve he had to keep his family safe. He closed his eyes, the sound of her breathing lulling him into a fitful sleep. The fire outside might rage, but here, in their bed, there was peace, if only for a moment. Thomas knew that the battles would continue, that the fight for their survival was far from over. But with her by his side, he felt a glimmer of hope, a spark of light in the darkness. He tightened his hold on her, his heart a silent promise to never let go. In the midst of chaos, she was his sanctuary, his angel in a world of shadows. And as sleep finally claimed him, Thomas dreamed not of fires and battles, but of a future where they could find peace, a future where their child could grow up safe and loved. It was a dream worth fighting for, a dream worth burning the world down to protect.

Authors Notes:

Don't worry the three asks are being worked on, I just wanted to get this one out because I haven't seen anyone do this song yet or they have and I haven't seen it. But I wanted to do a Jonathan one, because he's fucking mental about his lover but idk it wouldn't click.

Have any idea's please hit me up!!! Love you all xoxo

[consultingskeletondetective]

Virginal, chapter 4

You're given a rare day off from work to recover from your wounds, both physical and emotional, trying to process what the hell was happening to you and what your life had become.

You were Michael's play thing now, and it wouldn't be long before the shape came looking for more fun.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, murder, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, female reader, non con, stalking, forced orgasms, choking, squirting

Three days this time. 

Three, for crying out loud, wasn’t Michael meant to be a patient man?

You woke late on the third day. It was a rare Saturday where you weren’t working, all to yourself, you already had messages from your friends asking if you wanted to go out that night, and a few messages from a dating site you’d absentmindedly joined a while ago. You pointedly ignored those. Infact, you left your whole phone on the bedside table as you went into the bathroom after you woke up. It was nearly midday by then, and you'd rewarded yourself with a lie in. Those were few and far between anyway, but then you were generally exhausted these days.

You rolled your eyes, you had no idea why.

You stripped out of your nightclothes and left them in a messy pile on the floor by the bath, no matter how many words you’d had with yourself to leave them in the laundry hamper you’d bought for exactly this reason. You turned the shower on and waited a few minutes for the temperature to even out, and you were just about to step under the running spray when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the slowly steaming bathroom mirror.

Your legs were a mottled mess of aggressive bruises. You’d thought that black and blue was a phrase that people threw around but now you knew that it was irrevocably true. Your body was a canvas of pain and destruction. You watched your own hand travel to your throat, it was still sore from where Michael had stuck his cock down it a few days before.

You shivered at the memory, the pain and the way you couldn’t breathe, like it had burned itself into your mind. 

You wondered if this was his method of killing you - to put so much strain and stress on your body that it simply gave out. Perhaps it was simply an experiment. Michael definitely seemed to enjoy it, otherwise he wouldn’t keep coming back for more. 

Your thoughts were blank as you showered, it was almost as if it was your minds way of protecting you from the dark thoughts that seeped black ink into the grey matter of your brain, staining you dark just like him. Michael was leaving his own sickly imprint on your body with every cruel fuck.

You wrapped a freshly laundered towel around yourself, not bothering to dry your skin anymore than that. It was a warm day and you didn’t mind the chill on your wet skin as you walked into the kitchen.

The kitchen was alight with sunbeams streaming in through the gaps in the closed blinds, highlighting the dust particles dancing in the air. The plaque of wood you’d fixed temporarily to cover the hole in the glass left by Michael’s fist cast a grim shadow across the otherwise pleasant day. You planned on fixing the door yourself - it wasn’t like you were going to tell your landlord that a murderer had made child’s play out of your double glazing with his bare fist - but honestly you had no idea about glass or doors.

This was what men were for, you thought absentmindedly, perhaps you’d ask Michael to take a look at it the next time he dropped by.

You smirked at the absurd thought as it crossed your mind before your smile promptly dropped. You really were going mad, weren’t you? Maybe Michael hadn’t escaped at all, maybe he was just a figment of your crazy imagination, or maybe you were locked up next door to him in Westbrook Sanitarium. 

You opened your fridge door and spied a bottle of Chenin Blanc you’d bought for this very weekend, wondering briefly if midday was too early to start drinking, but then you figured that if anything were to drive you to it, then your new friend was.

You hadn’t made your mind up when your kitchen went dim, like someone had turned the brightness down on the sun, and you frowned to yourself. It was rarely sunny in your hometown and you were enjoying the temporary reprieve from the cold and rain, but now it looked like it was turning back to your regular scheduled programme of overcast grey skies.

You closed the fridge, one hand wrapping around the knot at the top of your towel to keep it secure, as you turned to the back door.

Oh fuck.

It wasn’t the clouds that had blocked out the sun, it was Michael.

You couldn’t see him clearly through the blinds, but his bulky silhouette casting a dark shadow over your kitchen floor was enough.

Fear shot through your spine and you backed off, nearly tripping and stumbling over your own feet. You couldn’t, not again, you couldn’t take him again, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You glanced towards your only exit, the door to the living room, before remembering how well that went last time. 

“Just leave me alone!” You screamed foolishly at the door, and the monstrous presence that lurked behind it. “You sick fuck! I don’t want this, just fucking go away!”

You supposed it was your distance from Michael that made you so brave, the door between you giving you some sort of power that you knew you didn’t really have.

Your screams were silenced with a deadly ferocious crunch of wood as your back door shuddered dangerously, another thud and a large crack appeared in the wood, your door creaking and dipping, hanging on for dear life by the aged metal hinges fixing it to the doorway, the wood splintering at the edges. You screamed again at this inhuman knocking, before another blood-curdling blow came, and then another, rattling the door, the frame, the walls and all you could do was sob and watch as the metal hinges gave out and bent inwards, screws spitting out onto the floor, and then the entire door was loose and falling, slamming into your kitchen lino with the same death rattle as Gulliver being slain.

Michael stood in the doorway, his bare hands poised in front of him as if he were preparing for a fight. His knuckles, you could see, were torn and bloodied, from pulverising your door to the ground, no doubt.

Your stomach jumped into your throat at the sight of him bleeding, before he was marching into your home again. His heavy footfalls creaked the wood of the door at his feet that he was walking over, until the glass of the backdoor was cracking under his boots, then he stepped off of the door and onto your lino, stopping in front of you.

He lowered his hands to his sides again, unclenched and unflustered, and merely peered down at you with a slight cock of the head, as if it was no bones to him that he’d just torn your door down - unphased by something it would take a team of men and power tools to accomplish.

You shivered in your towel, were you crying? You didn’t know anymore. Your cooling skin felt like it was being burned by Michael’s close proximity with the heat that broiled off of him. Hell fire.

You glanced up at him with fearful eyes and your voice came out shaky: “I - I should give you a key so you st-stop bre-breaking th-things.”

He cocked his head from one side to the other as he regarded you through those empty eyes of his devoid mask, as if trying to decipher a foreign language you were speaking to him in. 

You blinked, now you could feel the hot tears on your cheeks.

“Just kill me, please,” you begged softly. “I can’t live like this. I don’t know what you think I can give you, but I can’t, please just let me go.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, to be honest, your brain just went to mush around Michael like it always did. You just wanted whatever this was to stop, so you didn’t have to feel all this guilt and regret anymore. Your stomach felt hollow just at the thought of never having his thick fingers around your throat again, or his thick cock stretching you open, but you didn’t care. 

You closed your eyes against him, trying to expel the heinous thoughts from your mind that ignited those animalistic and wrong urges inside you. He was a murderer. He murdered innocent people. Why couldn’t you get that through your thick skull? Maybe you deserved to di-

A solid brick hand around your throat made your eyes fly open again, meeting Michael’s mask. He was closer to you now, his back bowed to reach down to you, his heavy breathing faster and harder than before, as if angry with you for closing your eyes against him. He wanted your full attention and he took it. You will look at me, little girl, you’re mine.

Both of your hands shot up to grasp at his wrist and you shuddered when your fingertips didn’t even touch each other. You tugged uselessly at him, but it only made your own muscles flex. He just stared at you as you tried to wrench his hand away from your neck, as if slyly asking, are you done yet, with a tilt of his head.

“Please, let me go.” You gasped. Michael wasn’t cutting off your oxygen, not as much as you knew he could, but your voice still came out raspy.

Michael’s only answer was that heavy breathing, loud in the otherwise quiet room. He was utterly still as he held you firm against the fridge, but you caught a shadow dancing across the sunbeams that were streaming in freely now through the open cavity of your kitchen and then those bloody knuckles of his free hand were pressed against your collarbone and his thick fingers were curling hot around the knot of your towel.

You wailed when he ripped it from you, letting the sodden fabric hit the floor disinterestedly as he took a step closer to your now completely naked body, utterly bared for him. Michael’s large back protected you from the spirals of chilly air coming in through the hole he’d made in the back of your house but you shivered all the same. His heat crowded you as he stood closer still, his mask hovering just above your forehead, head cast down so you could feel the cool rubber against your hairline, his metronomic breathing was the only sound.

Michael’s hand flexed on your throat, almost as if in warning of what would happen if you even tried to move. You stifled your cry and bit your lip as you swallowed your own tears, feeling more afraid and more vulnerable than you’d ever felt around him, naked and exposed like this. 

Michael pressed his rough and calloused palm against the soft flesh of your belly and you let out a low moan, expecting it to hurt and you were surprised when it didn’t, except for the drag of hardened flesh of course. It was an experimental touch, flat-palmed and curious. You trembled. 

Michael watched his own hand as he dragged it up your side, rough and tickling, hot and heavy until every hair on your body stood up, tingling in the wake of his rough, killing hands on you. 

He paused when his fingertips pressed against your ribs, he didn’t need to pick a left or right side, his hand settled comfortably around your entire rib cage. You imagined he was weighing up how easily he could close his hand, crushing your ribs inwards until they pierced your own heart. You wondered how many people he’d done that to and felt panic rise in you like bile.

Michael finally moved his hand and cupped your breast. 

You let out a breathy exhale. His skin was hot and rough against your tender flesh there. Your head span, your nipples peaking to attention, your insides soaking yourself. 

He waited like that for longest moment, maybe even minutes as he just stared silently before finally giving your soft and vulnerable breast an experimental squeeze.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned quietly.

He wasn’t listening to you, but then how would you know, as he ran his whole palm over your breast, grazing the stiffened peak of your nipple with his calloused flesh and you gasped loudly. The sensitive sensation went straight to your clit and you trembled.

You were utterly frozen, caged in a murderer’s hands as he tried and tested the most vulnerable nerve endings in your body, and all you could do was take it. You didn’t know if it was actually possible to come like this, but your desperately clenching cunt was giving it a damn good try.

Michael’s mask moved stiffly, finding your face again, and he kept his head bowed so he was level with your gaze, as if studying your face, as he dragged his palm across your nipple again and you bit your lip, your cheeks scarlet with blood as you stifled your moan.

Your body wriggled. You’d always been particularly sensitive there, it was a sensation you wanted more of and was too much for you to handle. 

He flexed his fingers around your throat, tightening incrementally but you didn’t know what that meant, you didn’t know what he wanted from you so you kept silent and still. 

He dropped his hands from your breast and your throat and you barely had time to take a breath in before you felt his fingers curling around the backs of your thighs until he was scooping you up, quite literally lifting you into the air.

You gasped at the suddenness of it before tucking your legs around his waist to stop yourself from falling. Your hands, once gripping his wrist, worked on instinct alone and you wrapped your arms around Michael’s neck for support as your fingers linked together and your whole front was pressed snug against him, your head in the crook of his neck.

You could smell him like this, the heat and dirt and copper of blood. You could feel him against your cheek, just a single strip of human, male flesh where his boilersuit met his mask and your whole body shuddered against him.

His hands were solid under your ass, holding you tight against his body as he took you from the fridge and walked the pair of you away from the kitchen and into the living room. 

You couldn’t guess why he was moving you, maybe he didn’t want an audience with the door off or maybe he just liked fucking you on the couch.

You trembled even as you clung to him, unsure as always of what was going to happen to you, if you were going to make it out alive this time, all you knew was that you were at his mercy. 

You could feel the heat and pressure of his solid cock, pinned against your core and sodden with your wet cunt pressed against it, wetting the dark blue of his boiler suit to black with your desperate desire.

He stopped in the middle of the living room where your coffee table used to be and you were grateful for his large hands curled under you. Your arms and thighs were beginning to strain under the effort of clinging to such a thick body, he was quite literally about three times the size of you, and your legs weren’t meant to spread that far. Michael made them spread as far as he wanted. 

He tilted his hands and your whole body followed, tumbling back slightly in his grip and your forearms tightened a little around his neck in response. You were face to face with him this way, well, face to mask. In any other situation, if you were a normal couple, this would be the part where he kissed you. But you weren’t and he didn’t.

You dipped slightly when he adjusted his grip on you before he steadied you again and good christ why was that so hot? The cocksure flex of his fingers like he knew he wasn’t going to drop you, it made your body flush with heat.

You realised what he’d done then, transferred your body weight to one hand so his other could drag his zip down, which was quite a feat, really, with you pressed against his front like you were. That must have been why he tipped you back, to make that room for himself. 

Not that you cared even a little bit as that sliver of pale flesh came into view. For one mad second you wanted to push the fabric aside and see him, but you knew you were going mad, and that you’d be dead before you even tried. 

Then Michael’s cock was in his fist and you lost all sense completely. It was thick, hard, his head red and sopping and twitching in his mammoth grip and he pumped himself in his hand just once. Your mouth fell open as molten lava flooded your core just at the sight before he was adjusting his hand under you once more and running his head through your soaking wet folds.

His cock glistened with your need for him until it dribbled down his hot shaft and wetted his balls. 

You tried to breathe steadily. You wanted to close your eyes, or maybe bury your head back between the crook of his neck, but you couldn’t look away from the way he fucked his cock against you before he sunk inside, like he was enjoying the foreplay, and it was the single hottest thing you’d ever seen. 

Your hole was quivering entirely of its own volition, desperate to be stuffed and fucked and he knew it, he was playing with you, watching for your reaction as he slipped his crown up and inside you and your eyes rolled. 

He kept you speared just on the thick and unforgiving head of his cock as both hands cupped your ass again, keeping you utterly immobile as you clenched uselessly and deliciously on just the tip - you wanted desperately to beg for more but you just couldn’t, not to Michael, not to a murderer.

He seemed more patient with you today than he had been before, more exploratory, like he was testing your body’s limits and reactions. You hardly knew why, maybe he just didn’t want to accidentally kill his favourite wet hole.

His devoid mask was inches from your face and if he wasn’t wearing it then you’d have felt his breath fanning over your lips.

His fingers gripped the meat of your ass and the familiar sparks of pain made you sigh, before he began lowering you down on his cock.

Oh, fuck, yes, your mind gasped at your descent, as Michael stretched you obscenely around the fucking steel rod he called his cock, sliding inch after inch wetly into you, his weight and heat and girth carving up your insides like a pumpkin on halloween. 

Your legs tightened around his waist and one of his hands inched up, pressing the small of your back firm against him while his cock twitched and jerked, fully seated inside you. Your mouth fell open as your head tipped back, you’d swear you’d never had him so deep before. It felt dangerous , like any minute shift from either of you might tear your insides. It was worth it, it was so fucking worth it, he felt so fucking good that you might die anyway if he didn’t move.

Michael tilted your hips and your thighs responded by clinging even more pitifully around his broad waist. Every shift inside of you felt like fire, felt like breathing again after days of being under water.

Your cunt squelched audibly around his cock and you winced, fear thrumming through you and adding to your arousal as Michael tipped you back. You envisioned your back crashing to the floor and at this height? Something would break.

Then hot and large hands were curling around your hips, holding you steady and you let out a little breath, your eyes fixed to Michael’s hollow mask eyes as your heart hammered. He began to move your hips up and down, bouncing you on his solid cock and every upward thrust drove him up into your guts.

Guh, fuck, your head tipped forward into his neck, your whole body trembling as he fucked up into you. Michael’s body was utterly immobile, a solid mass, a shape, servicing himself inside your weeping cunt with every brutal bounce of your hips.

Your eyes fluttered at the mixture of pain and pleasure, both one and the same, and the lightning in your nerve endings. Cradled like this in his large hands, your tits bounced with every one of his thrusts and you waited in embarrassment for when his mask tipped down to watch but it never did, it just stayed on you,

Tight to his pelvis like this, you could feel every vein of his cock as he slid into you, and the fat head splitting you open from the insides, making room for himself in your small body. Your wet folds kissed his black pubic hair as he pulled you down on him over and over again with that same steady rhythm that managed to be calm and aggressive all at the same time. He went as he always did, like a machine, the stamina of a teenager and the control of a middle-aged man. He was everything, both, nothing, all at the same time.

You tipped your head back as your cunt clenched and your stomach rolled, thighs quaking - you didn’t know what ripped it from your throat but rip it did -

“Michael, I’m going to come.”

Suddenly, the pressure between your legs became intense as the piston of Michael’s hips sped up until he was ramming inside you. You could hardly tell if he was thrusting in and out anymore, it was just a hard and fucking amazing feeling of fullness. 

You couldn’t help it when your mouth curved into a silent cry and you came hard on Michael’s cock, your fresh spend copious and spurting around his thick length, flying eveyrwhere with how hard and fast he was fucking into you.

Your eyes actually crossed as he kept his brutal pace, hurtling you over the edge once again in a matter of seconds and the feeling of your release being fucked from you was glorious, it made your entire body quake.

The noise you made was loud and hardly ladylike as pure animalistic pleasure was ripped from you. Michael didn’t react, not in any discernible way and somewhere in your subconscious, because your conscious was having its brains fucked out, you realised that you weren’t being punished for making noise. Instead you rode out orgasm after orgasm, coming pitifully on this beast’s cock over and over as he didn’t falter for a second and you had no choice as you were forced to clench and squirt and shiver until you couldn’t think straight, no, you couldn’t think at all.

Your vision was hazy and your head was swimming, nothing in your mind but hot fierce coming pleasure as you eased your forearms down Michael’s neck a little, not realising until you’d done it that you were searching for and then gripping the seam of his exposed flesh with your fingers, shuddering under the warmth of his hot skin.

He stepped closer to you, bringing your hips down against his, until that space between your torsos disappeared and your bare and sweat-soaked chest was rubbing against the unforgiving material of his boiler suit with every measured rut into you. Your nipples rubbed cruelly against the fabric and you winced and shivered as your hitherto untouched clit trembled and kissed Michael’s solid abdominal muscle.

You buried your head where your hands were, and you sobbed as you came again, the new sparking sensations running tight through your body forcing you indelicately over the edge again. The rubber of Michael’s cool mask pressed into the seam of your neck, that loud breathing right against your ear and you whimpered.

The rub of his boiler suit against your cunt was unforgiving, scraping your clit in a way that was almost painful. You didn’t think, your animal brain zeroed down as you let one hand leave his neck and trail between your tight bodies until the pad of your finger found your clit. It was hard and aching, ready for the attention it had been so cruelly denied for the last few weeks, and you shuddered as a gentle rub made your eyes flutter and your cunt clench deliciously on the big cock inside you, this new and intense orgasm making you dribble onto Michael’s collar.

You yelped a little unexpectedly as your body dropped, but then Michael’s hand was framing your ass again and you breathed as you rolled your hips against him, your hand pressed protectively against your still twitching clit.

Michael’s large hand framed yours, his fingers pressing messily against your spent cunt and you squeaked as you felt his calloused fingers rubbing hard against your clit in a poor and heavy-handed imitation of what you’d just done to yourself. You winced as pleasure shot through you, too over-sensitive to feel anything other than intense, and your fingertips found the bones of his wrist, not so much to pull him away but more to hold on for dear life as he rubbed sloppily against your poor, used clit and your cunt squeezed his still moving cock as your hand reflexively squeezed his wrist and you came sharply and painfully, clamping down on him until a deep exhale caught your attention and Michael stilled, holding you tight against him as his cock erupted a gallon of burning seed into your used core. 

You blinked slowly, overwhelmed, grip not loosening on his wrist as you felt your exhausted head spin. The feel of Michael’s heartbeat under your fingertips accompanied your descent into darkness.

The world came back to you slowly, like strips of colour entering your vision as your heavy eyelids blinked open. You floated aimlessly on the edge of consciousness for a few moments before your mind re-entered your body and you groaned, feeling every sore and pained inch of it. You were still naked, and still damp from your shower, but you were rested wonkily on your couch like a cadaver in a horror movie.

You sat up with a frown, muscles stiff, trying to remember when you’d passed out. Your thighs were stuck together with the creamy white mess of Michael’s come and the memory of the herculean beast bouncing you on his cock came back to you with a flash and your eyes fluttered.

It was still light outside, so you reasonably couldn’t have been out for very long, but you couldn’t see or hear Michael anywhere. You made your way cautiously upstairs to retrieve a nightshirt and pull it over your head for decency, and for the chill that was beginning to sit deep in your bones. Michael wasn’t up here either.

He must have left, you thought, like last time, as soon as he’s done with you.

You walked, bow-legged and shaky, back into the kitchen, definitely after that wine now.

The first thing you noticed was a hammer on the countertop, which was weird, primarily for the fact that you were fairly sure you didn’t own one. The second thing was that the door was no longer on the floor, which you’d completely forgotten about, but rather it sat wonkily back in the door frame with heavy screws brutally nailed through it until the heads were at odd angles. Regardless, the door was back in its frame, haphazard but sturdy. You walked slowly towards it like it might jump out and attack you. It creaked a little as you swung it open onto the empty street, but open it did. 

Huh, your startled brain chipped in, as was often its way lately, at the most inopportune moments, Michael really did know about doors.

[themultifandomgal]

Childhood

Birth

The Shelby's suffered the day YN was brought into the world. Unfortunately their mother died during child birth and their father left them. The little babe was bundled up in blankets and given to the oldest Shelby sibling to hold. Arthur. Immediately falling in love with his new sister.

"I promise you will always be loved, cared for and protected. Always" Tommy had promised stoking the tiny tufts of hair. Blue eyes look up at her brothers, she does a little yawn before falling asleep in the arms of one of her protectors. There and then the Shelby brothers made a pact to always protect the little girl.

2 Years Old

The littlest Shelby was always quiet, she didn't talk until she was 2 years old. But once YN said her first word, she soon became the loudest of all of them

"Why isn't YN talking?" Finn asks, being 6 years old he can't understand why his 2 year old sister won't speak

"She may not be talking but she watches what's going on around her. Listens to you" Polly smiles at the boy who frowns. Finn walks over to his sister and places his hands on her shoulders

"Just say my name. Finn" nothing "Finn" again nothing

"Fucking hell" Arthur mutters under his breath, but little YN hears

"Fucking hell!" she shouts making everyone look at her

"Now you've gone and done it Arthur" Polly scolds

"No YN. Bad word" Tommy gets down to her level

"Fucking hell Tommy"

"You brother are in trouble" he point as Arthur who holds his hands up in defence.

3 Years Old

Little YN now has her voice. She's bonded with Tommy over horse riding and so the pare are often seen either out with the horses or running around the house.

"Tommy! Tommy come and catch me!" the youngest Shelby shouts running around the house

"YN Shelby if you don't stop running around this house someone will get hurt, most likely you" Polly scolds the 3 year old girl

"Leave her be Pol" John chuckles

"Tommy! I bet you can't find me!" YN shouts once again running into the kitchen. She hides under the table trying to hold back a giggle. The door to the kitchen opens and Tommy strides in pretending he can't see his youngest hiding under the table

"Oh I wonder where she could be" he shrugs "Poll you seen a little monster running around?" YN has to put her hand over her mouth to stop her laughing

"Not a monster no" Polly gets up off the chair she is sat on and goes to make a tea "but if we can't find YN then who's going to drink the hot chocolate" YN gasps at this

"Boo!" Tommy shouts looking under the table. YN groans getting out

"Aunt Polly that was your fault" the little girl complains

"You want a hot chocolate or not?" Polly asks making YN climb on the chairs in the kitchen.

7 Years Old

4 years since YN Shelby saw John, Tommy and Arthur due to the war. Polly took over looking after her Ada and Finn, but the day they returned was the most exciting day YN had ever had. Every night she prayed they would come home, she had been dreaming of that day since they left for war.

"When will they be here aunt Poll?" she asks holding her sister and aunts hands

"Soon YN" Polly tells YN who's bouncing around at the train station while Finn clings to Polly's side

"I've missed then aunt Poll"

"I know love. So have I" she smiles down at the youngest Shelby.

Soon the train arrives and the excitement in YN Shelby can be seen by all. As soon as she sees one of the three brothers she leaves Polly's side and runs into the arms of Tommy who has knelt down with his arms out

"Hey little one" he whispers holding her tight

"Missed you" YN mutters into her brothers chest letting tears run down her face

"And what about us aye?" Arthur asks smiling. YN leaves Tommys arms to hug both Arthur and John. Finally their family has been reunited once again.

8 Years Old

A year has passed since the war ended, but YN has noticed how different her brothers all are. Polly and Ada did tell her they wouldn't be the same anymore. Tommy no longer plays hide and seek with her, he also seems to shout more. Arthur is always talking nonsense and John is busy with his own family. Even Finn has gotten boring to the youngest Shelby

"What are you doing?" YN asks walking over to Finn with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth

"None of your business"

"Tommy says your not to have them"

"Yeah well your not gonna tell him are ya?" Finn points towards YN

"She won't have to" YN turns around to see Polly with her hands on her hips giving Finn the 'your in trouble' look "YN go play outside while I deal with your brother"

With that YN runs outside forgetting her coat.

Just because her brothers have all changed in some way doesn't mean the love and protectiveness they had for YN has changed. If anything it's gotten stronger. So when Arthur notices YN hasn't got a coat on in the cold weather he drops whatever he is doing to take one outside for her

"YN love it's to cold not to have a coat on. You'll catch the flu" Arthur helps the 8 year old slip her arms into the coat

"Sorry Arthur"

"That's ok just remember it next time"

11 Years Old

At 11 years old she was starting to realise what her brothers were up to with the family business. Bad people were after her brothers because of deals gone wrong or just because they were bad people. But not her brothers. No. In YNs eyes her brothers could kill an innocent man and it would still be his fault. Her brothers to her could do no wrong. Except for when Tommy married Grace. That she wasn't happy with.

At first YN didn't like Grace. Didn't like the fact that a woman swoops in, hurts her big brother then he ends up moving out having a baby and getting married to said woman. Grace stole her big brother from her and that was something that YN cannot forgive. That was until YN became ill. So ill in fact that Tommy wanted her at Arrow House so that he could keep an eye on her, said fresh air would do her some good.

"How do you feel today YN?" Francis asks placing a cool rag over the top of YNs head

"Sick"

"Still?" YN nods her head weakly. A knock on the door has both the maid and YN turning their heads. In walks Tommy and Grace with Charles

"Francis will you take Charles for a nap. We will sit with YN"

Tommy takes the chair next to her bed while Grace sits on the empty side of the bed

"Am I going to die?" the little Shelby asks her brother. Grace can see the worry in his eyes

"No dear because you've got the best big brother who will get the best doctors. Now try and rest. Tommy and I will stay here if you need us"

[anthroposeen]

[tma spoilers: sasha's arc, discussion of women in tma and general spoilers for s1-5]

i wanted to do a breakdown of how the tma fandom interprets the main cast of 'protagonist' women specifically pertaining to sasha's role in tma canon and how shes viewed in the fan sphere :)

i think its interesting how sasha is almost universally liked by tma fans when she was a very short-lived character with just about no screen time. its obviously tied to the fact that sasha was considered an ally by jon and the other original staff and they take measures to avenge her in some regard- this is perpetuated as shes painted as an obvious protagonist (one of the few who arent necessarily morally grey) with no real content to prove she had bad qualities. other women in tma have a considerable amount of content (im specifically referring to those working in the archives or having a large role in jon's life: georgie, melanie, basira, and daisy) which lets the audience see them in a more multi-faceted light. we see their rights and wrongs through jons eyes, and since they have more canon content, obviously they're more complex characters and they serve more nuanced narrative purposes. at the end of the day, sasha's use as a character was to drive the plot with a significant death and inspire a revenge or depression in the other characters, and she served this role perfectly. jon avenges her twice in s5 alone (smiting the not!them and then cursing her name at jonah) so we know she was very important pre-s1, but as the audience we just dont get to see that depth to her.

theres also the internalized misogyny that fandoms often have; sasha was the main and only female role in s1 (not counting gertrude since shes dead) and her relationships largely revolved around men. all of her coworkers were men, and we know they admired her. we know she was friends with them all individually and also glued them together in group settings. she had a "will they wont they" relationship (his words of course) with tim, and she was the character that introduced us to michael. the other more fleshed out women of tma had relationships largely revolving around other women. melanie and georgie were partners, melanie had moments were she was friends with basira, and basira and daisy came into the series as a package deal. when these characters are given the choice between choosing to help jon or choosing to help the woman closest to them, they dont choose jon. obviously this can rub the audience the wrong way, but it also showcases a loyalty to the idealized fanon interpretation of a woman over the canon multi-dimensional women we dont need to extrapolate on.

i get that its easier to like a female character when she's a protagonist who supported the male lead; and bonus points if shes such a vague character that anyone can paste their interpretations onto and it cant be "disproven". of course its sexier to leave things up to the imagination, but it just irks me to see people fawn over a (please forgive me) one dimensional character when more complex women exist in canon. people have the tendency to beg for flawed women in fiction then dislike them or ignore them when they get the representation they asked for. if you're willing to defend jon but not melanie, basira, daisy, or georgie, maybe ask yourself why.

disclaimer: i dont think anyone is a misogynist for liking sasha or preferring her over the other women in tma! i like both canon and fanon interpretations of her character and i wish we got to see more of her, but i do think theres something to be said about how the fandom treats her vs the other women in the cast. and i know im not at all the first to say it! i was just thinking about this as a general observation of fan content that ive seen and i dont mean to hate on anyone, their fan content, or sasha as a character!

[msmoony7]

hey!! can you please do a fic with calum hood, maybe enemies to lovers and reader is the bands photographer or something like that (it’s okay if you don’t want to🫶🏼🫶🏼)

Love your work!!

note: hope u like it! I haven't written for 5sos yet AND i’ve never written enemies to lovers so i hope it’s good and enemy-y angsty enough. also pretend the first stop was LA and that the tour was six weeks idk how long it actually was this is just what i imagined for my little fanon fic LMAO. I kinda left this on a cliffhanger. Maybe part 2 soon??

calum hood x reader

word count: 1.84k

You wake up to the sun peeking through the cracks in your bedroom curtains. Although the weather on this day is perfect, your mood was anything but, and you wake up feeling sour. Today, you are presented with the difficult task of joining the band 5 Seconds of Summer as their tour photographer. You’ve been photographing artists for years now and it has truly become your passion. Whether it’s following an artist on your, or taking album art, you are living your dream with every picture you take.  

That’s not where the difficulty lies. You know that you’re capable of doing your job and doing it well. The difficulty lies within the band. The name of that difficulty being the band’s bassist, Calum Hood. By now, you have a long history with the band. They first invited you to join them on the Take My Hand tour last year. You quickly became good friends with Luke, Ashton, and Michael. But for some reason, Calum just could not stand to be near you. Many days and nights were spent bickering between the two of you. Arguments would come up, about your creative direction and other bullshit he brought up, leaving you no choice to fight back, creating a lasting vendetta between the pair of you. 

Of course, he made your job difficult as well. When photographing him onstage, he would mess with you and your work. Sometimes getting up in front of the camera and in your face, sometimes not letting you take any photos of him at all. And once offstage, he wouldn’t even look in your direction. Wouldn’t even address you. Despite this, your work speaks for itself and you received a message from Luke inviting you to join them again on this year's tour, The 5sos Show.  

It’s been weeks since you got the tour invitation, and months since you’ve last seen the band. All the time in the world couldn’t prepare you for six weeks on the road with Calum Hood. What he had against you, you may never know. What you do know is that as long as he presents this dislike towards you, you will be doing the same right back at him. 

Was putting yourself through all this stress worth it? You ponder for a moment when you wake up, but ultimately decide you made the right choice. You are set to meet up with the band and crew this evening before you set out on the road together, marking the start of the long six weeks ahead. You put on some music and start packing your suitcase. 

After a while, you’re happy with everything in your suitcase and zip it up. Living out of a suitcase was difficult, but you’ve had prior experience so you know the do’s and don'ts of packing. You pack your backpack, carry on, and your camera supplies and before you know it, the day is behind you and it’s time to converge with the band. You call an uber to take you to the address Luke gave you and you’re on your way. 

Traffic isn’t too bad, so you make it to the address quicker than you would have liked. The crew is already there, but the band is nowhere to be seen. You help yourself onto the bus and begin putting your things in your designated area. You feel the bus shift as someone steps on. Before you can turn around, you can already tell who is walking up behind you. 

“Well, what do we have here?” you hear a sarcastic voice say behind you. You turn around and lock eyes with the bassist. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a green 5sos sweatshirt. He looks adorable and cozy, and you hate him for being so gorgeous and so annoying all at the same time. 

“Not even the first day of the tour and we’re already fighting, are we?” you spit back at him. 

“Seems that way,” he replies before scurrying off to whatever hole he’s gonna bury himself in until he needs to be found again. 

The rest of the boys slowly scatter onto the bus, and your meetings with them go better than yours with Calum. Everyone picks out their bunks and once everyone is settled onto the bus, the driver begins driving to the first stop on the road and you allow yourself to fall asleep for the night. 

You wake up to the sound of fighting. It takes you a few seconds to shake off your grogginess before you hear two voices shouting back and forth at each other from the other end of the bus. 

“You can’t keep acting like this!” you can hear Luke yell. 

“Sure I can! I can't stand her being here and I’m not going to pretend I do.”

“Whatever, man. Do what you want, I give up. Just don’t come complaining when it comes to bite you in the ass.”

You can hear them shuffling around the bus as you stay hidden behind your curtain. Although your hatred for Calum was mutual, you couldn’t help but let a tear fall down your cheek as you lay in your bunk, thinking about everything you’ve had to endure from him in the past and will have to in the future on this tour. You are tired of feeling like this. Feeling beat down by him and his words, his actions. Now, you’re determined to get to the bottom of his hatred for you. You wipe away your tears, jump out of bed, and get ready for the day. 

Tonight is the first night of the tour at The Kia Forum in Los Angeles. You’re excited. After all, you do love your job. You decide that the best way to get through the tour is to ignore Calum and his antics. 

The day goes by quickly. The opening band is onstage and you’ve successfully avoided Calum the entire day. You grab all your camera equipment so you have it ready to go when the boys go onstage. 

Calum sneaks up behind you, bass in hand. “Where’ve you been, y/n? Haven’t seen you all day, it’s almost like you’re ignoring me. You wouldn’t do that though, would you?”

“For the love of god, fuck off. Get away from me.” You huff at him while grabbing your camera and walking towards the side stage. The lights go off and he shoots you a wink before walking onstage. You push all this out of your head and get in front of the stage and start taking photos of the boys. 

The night goes as well as you could have expected given your circumstances. You get some good photos of the boys. Calum was his usual self. This time around, he decided that whenever you got too close to him, he would turn around, making sure that you don’t get photos of his face or his instrument. Despite this, you do get some good photos of him. In all honesty, you think this is some of your best work. Calum looks really good. Even if you can’t see his face.

The boys all run offstage after the encore, high off of the energy from the gig. You shoot them a congratulations and you can see Calum heading in the opposite direction of you. Typical, you think. 

The next stop of the tour wasn’t for another two days, so the boys are having a party to celebrate the tour kicking off. You follow Luke, Ashton, and Michael and see that the party is already in motion. Calum’s already at the bar grabbing a drink and your body moves before you can think and all of the sudden, you’re sitting next to him. 

“What do you want,” he mutters sharply, not even looking up from his drink.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Vodka cran,” he says to the bartender and nods at you. “I swear, whenever you get within ten feet of me I can feel my blood pressure rising,” he says in defeat as he gets up from his seat.

“Where’re you going? I thought we were finally getting along.”

“Back to the bus before I say something I’ll regret.”

And with that, he disappears out the door, leaving you confused as the bartender hands you your drink. 

“I don’t know what his issue is,” you confess to Luke once you find him later that night. An hour or two has passed since you last saw Calum and you’re feeling tipsy from the alcohol. 

“I wish I could tell you, y/n. I really wish I could. But we have no idea why he’s like this. We all love you and we love your work, I don’t know why he has it out for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. If I’m honest, I’m getting to my breaking point. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”

“Want us to talk to him?” Luke says with concern written on his face. You can tell him and the other boys genuinely do care about you. It makes you feel good knowing that you have people to fall back on in this drama. 

“Thanks, but I think I’m actually gonna go speak to him now. I’m just tired of it and I need answers now.”

“Well, good luck. Let us know how it goes.”

You say bye to everyone at the party and you leave to find Calum and get some long awaited answers for yourself. The walk to the bus is not far and as you’re approaching, you see Calum sitting on a bench outside, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the sky. He hears your footsteps on the ground and groans when he realizes it’s you. 

“Following me now, are you?” 

“Oh shut up, will you?” you say as you steal the cigarette from his hand, taking a drag before handing it back to him. “You’re an ass, you do know that, right?”

“What do you think, y/n.”

“I wanna know why.”

“Why what?”

“What do you think, Calum? You’ve never liked me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I literally can’t do this anymore, I don’t know what to do!”

He sits and thinks for a minute, leaving the two of you in silence. You stare at him as he stares at the ground ahead of him, waiting for a response. A minute goes by, then two. No response. 

“Are you gonna answer me?” you yell. Still, no response. “Whatever, I’m done. Bye.” You say as you get up. You start walking in the direction of the tour bus when you feel him grab your arm and turn you around. Before you realize what’s going on, his lips crash into yours. At first, you don’t know what to do and you stand there frozen. He pulls away and just stares at you, and you stare right back. 

“That an answer enough for you?” he says to you. 

“Oh will you just shut up?” you say as you cusp his cheeks, pulling him towards you once more.

[galaxyspeaking]

Your art is literally SO SO GOOD AOZJEORHWORHEIDGWODH

Do you have any good omens theories/meta you want to share?? I have so many feelings about S2 and I love love LOVE hearing ppl talk about things they like :DD and also i just absorb theories like photosynthesis

omg Hi!!! thank you SO much for liking my art!

And boy, do I ever. They're literally ALL I think about, all day long!!

I mean if we're talking about theories, one that I'm particularly fond of is that the infamous 'I forgive you' may have had something with Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship with transgression/temptation. Throughout the season, we see Crowley planting the seeds of doubt in Aziraphale via what he does best (questioning the establishment and general order of things), but we also see him introducing Aziraphale to his arguably biggest vice, food (I imagine an apple was too on the nose, lol). I find it interesting that once he gets that knowledge, Aziraphale seems to be unable to stop himself, and only craves more.

Then time and time again we see the same pattern repeating: Crowley introducing Aziraphale to some very human notions, Aziraphale rebuking them, then ultimately surrendering.

It's great. It absolves Aziraphale from examining his choices as such and instead allows him to indulge by doing interesting mental gymnastics: The Demon Tempted Me, I succumbed. I am weak at times, but not unforgivable. I am still Good.

So, about that kiss.

I'd like to imagine that this is the first time these two celestial beings have experienced this particular display of affection.

When I saw Aziraphale panic and "forgive" Crowley, I immediately thought of it as the angel framing Crowley's kiss within the boundaries of what he's familiar with: Crowley is a demon, he tempts (introduces something new to their dynamic). Aziraphale protests (we can't let Heaven how easily tempted we are) then eventually relents.

But if we look at Aziraphale's torn expression, the horror, the pain (Michael Sheen the actor you are) after Crowley kisses him, I'd say a part of him —the part he refuses to listen to, because that would mean acknowledging that he's less a force for Good and more treading in grey areas like Crowley— recognizes that this not a temptation.

This is what you're losing by making that decision, Crowley seems to say. This is what you're leaving behind.

But Aziraphale, unlike Crowley at that moment, is not ready to change, is unwilling to move on from their push and pull dynamic. He forgives him for the Temptation, because it's easier to frame it as such, and is left to deal with the aftermath of that choice.

Woof, this ran long. Unfortunately for all of us I have a lot more where that came from. I hope this made sense!

[skullsuited]

hawaiian party.

inspired by this song.

gif credit.

an fbh!era/college!au imagine full of angst, humor, smoking weed, hiding in a bathroom at a party & grief.

content warning: marijuana usage, mentions of disordered eating, feelings of loneliness & dealing with a parent’s death.

This was the first time you'd been out since your mother's death. Unwillingly so, and yet, here you were, hiding in your best friend's bathroom at a college party. How depressing of you.

Nadia, your best friend and Alpha Theta's starry-eyed sorority member, had practically pleaded on the phone with you to come out and 'let loose', because 'your mom wouldn't want you to rot in your dorm room, eating M&M's and watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy'.

You hated that she had a point. You hated that this was what your life had come to.

Nadia had also mentioned that a few of your other friends would be attending the party and they had, apparently, mentioned how much they 'missed you' and 'wanted to see you'.

How could you say no to them? If you turned them down, you would be stuck in the same bottomless pit of loneliness, grief and M&M's.

For Nadia, for your friends and for your mother's memory, you had decided to attend the party at her sorority. Many of the people there, you didn't know or really bothered to speak to. As you arrived, you noticed a few of your friends lingering around. Niall was talking to Michael and Luke, Liam and Calum were playing spin the bottle with a few strangers, Nadia was nowhere to be seen and Harry was up against a wall, a joint in between his fingers.

He had been the first one to make eye contact with you, to notice your presence. A smile pulled at his lips and before you knew it, he was chasing you upstairs to the bathroom, racing after you as you tried to ditch the scene.

Which is where you are now: in the bathroom, sitting against the tub with Harry sat next to you.

"You've been away." He breaks through the silence between you, taking a drag from the joint he'd been puffing at.

"Yeah." You reply quietly, eyes cast downward, tracing over the tile.

"How, um... how have you been..." He trails off, trying to find the right words.

"Coping?"

Harry looks at you now, emerald eyes overcome with worry and concern for your wellbeing.

"Not very well. I haven't really... haven't really eaten properly. I mean, you know my relationship with food is..."

"A rollercoaster. Been that way for a very long time. I know."

You sigh, unsure of what to say. Of course, Harry knew. Other than Nadia, he was your closest friend. You'd met in high school and were inseparable ever since. Your fingers twitch towards the joint he's holding, and he hands it to you, watching you take a drag from it.

"Your mum was a good person, Y/N. I know she fucked up a lot of things, but one thing she was truthful about was how much she loved you."

"Y'know, what the really fucked up part of that is?"

"What?"

"I don't believe she truly loved me. I mean, after everything she put me through, how can you call that love?"

"Everyone has their own version of love, Y/N. Whether we understand it or not, is completely up to us."

A half-hearted smile tugs at the right corner of your lips. Harry's very emotionally intelligent and opening up to him, even if it's surface level, is helpful.

As you hand him the joint, a question brews in your mind, "What do you think? About love, I mean."

Harry chuckles, taking the joint from you. "I'd like to think that love is a word for a feeling no one can truly describe. I don't believe it's conditional or should be tied down to a person, place or thing. Love, like any other feeling, should be felt freely. Love is part of the human experience."

"Okay, Professor." You grin, "Maybe you should be studying psychology, become a therapist."

"Mm," He hums, "What have you been up to? Besides hibernating."

"I'm watching Grey's Anatomy again."

"Again? Christ, this is the third time!"

"I'm almost done with Season 11, believe it or not."

"Jesus. Do you not get bored of looking at Jesse Williams?"

"Never."

"Is that all you've been doing?"

"What, is wasting away in my bed, anticipating the next time Dr. Jackson Avery is on my screen, not a healthy way to cope with the fact that my mother's dead?"

"You're passively grieving, Y/N. Hell, I don't even think you've allowed yourself to fully process."

"These things take time, H. I can't just piece myself back together."

"S' not what I'm getting at, love. I think you're pushing your grief to the side."

"Harry..."

"If you need a reminder that you can come to someone, that you're allowed to shoulder the burden with someone else, I'm happy to give you one. You can't go through this alone, no matter how hard you try."

"You know just what to say, don't you?"

"Maybe I should become a therapist. M' quite good at it."

"Well, in that case, should I open up now or let you get your PhD first?"

"Don't bother. Dr. Styles is in."

"In all seriousness? Thank you, H... for letting me just... be."

"Don't have to thank me, love. M' always here. Now, why don't we get out of here, smoke a bowl in my car and get you a cheeseburger?"

"Sounds good to me, Styles."

Harry stands, the joint he'd been holding in between his fingers had burnt out. He tosses it in the trash bin near the toilet, before holding his hand out for you to take. You smile up at him, taking ahold of it.

Exiting the bathroom, you both weave through the party and head out into the night.

If there's anything your mom would have wanted for you, it was to have someone like Harry. Harry was supportive, thoughtful. He knew you better than you knew yourself and, at times, you were grateful for that.

With death, comes life. With life, comes love.

Perhaps, Harry would open your eyes to that.

You had hope that he would. That he will.

[silly-tma-headcanons]

I have complicated opinions on the colors of Jon and Jonah's Extra Eyes(TM). I love having Jon's Eyes(TM) be green but since that color choice comes from the logo of the podcast, which is called The Magnus Archives, named after, y'know, Jonah Magnus and his Archives, part of me thinks that Jonah should be the one with green Eyes(TM). but I don't think both Jon and Jonah should have the same color extra Eyes(TM), and I really can't imagine Jon rocking anything other than green. I've read/seen fanworks where Jonah has red Eyes(TM) and while that makes for a good contrast I think "evil = red eyes" is a little overdone. Jonah's eyes are canonically gray so maybe he should have silver Eyes(TM)? that's kind of Athena-esque and pretty fitting, and if it's a black pupil on silver iris on black sclera that's a good contrast.

I dunno, Tl;DR get creative with the colors y'all are so talented and keep up the good work

I love the idea of jon having red eyes. i personally dont see the beholding as red or green but i do imagine jon having red eyes and jonah having either silver or green eyes. i love the reversal of the usual "green eyes = good character" and "red eyes = evil character" !!!!! i think jon having red eyes is completely against his will and he hates it, but jonah's eyes are an aesthetic choice. he swaps between green and silver and it's always depending on what goes better with his outfit of the day.

also you said get creative with colours and i have very strong opinions about asigning colours for the entities so here we go. i also think that these sort of ideas

beholding -> magenta. jonah hates it and gertrude decided on it because he hates it

buried -> brown. i think its one of the only ones i agree with most of the fandom on. karolina is a dark academia girly so its a good shade <3

corruption -> that visceral dark colour between yellow and green. cant describe it any better than that. john amherst likes it bc hes freaky like that, jordan cant stand it

dark -> black :3 callum always says it's neon highlighter coloured, but he is ignored

desolation -> pastel pink, as decided by a young agnes montague

end -> navy blue. originally, oliver liked a dark purple, but georgie has since decided he was wrong

extinction -> green

flesh -> yellow. jared fucking hates it and he has no clue why it's caught on

hunt -> purple!!! like a lavender, pastel purple. i think the decision was a group effort between daisy, melanie and tim

lonely -> grey. peter lukas is the most uncreative fucker and jonah thinks hes basic as shit

slaughter -> purple. melanie says so.

spiral -> orange !!! a mix between yellow and magenta, both chosen by michael and helen :)

stranger -> gold. nikola says red, but danny liked gold and that's how tim chooses to remember him sometimes

vast -> opal!!! like white with loads of reflective rainbow colours mixed in :3!!!!! simon thinks its cool as shit and, reluctantly, mike agrees

web -> green!!! i know we love green beholding here, but the webs on the podcast logo is green!!!!! the webs are green!!!!!!!! rip annabelle cane you wldve HATED purple web!!!!!!!!!!!!