Sorry Y'all, Fixed The Ending! Meds Are Kicking My Ass Today

TASTE

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: Once you're taken to the Arrow house, you can't seem to understand the reason for which he brought you here. Maybe Mr. Shelby just appreciates your company... Or maybe not.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: non-con, oral (m receiving), Dark!Thomas Shelby, humiliation, degradation, straight up abuse, human t*

A/N: That's straight up abuse y'all LOL. Written for an amazing @novashelby

~~

"My sincere apologies, Mr. Sotheby," His voice came out smooth, butter like, as he slowly raised from his chair. His facial expression remained completely emotionless, the only sign of the fact he actually cared at all were his slightly furrowed eyebrows. The other man's eyes widened suddenly, as a gun came into his view, aiming directly between his eyes from a short distance, mere two feet. The older man's heart began pounding in his chest as an embodiment of a death threat looked him dead in the eyes. "For arranging my words in a way that gave you the false impression that you had any choice." A loud gunshot cut through the air, stunning the frightened man as his body trembled like a blade of grass. Pure fear, Thomas saw in his eyes, as he moved the gun, once more aiming it at the man's forehead. Mere inches from his head was a hole in the wall.

"Sign the contract" He eventually added, calmly, with a gaze as dead as his opponent would be if he didn't immediately listen. Which he did, of course, not being able to afford bargaining with the devil not a second longer.

Gripping the pen with his shaky hand, he signed the contract so evil, he could barely breathe. Giving up the horse so dear to his heart, along with his only daughter. Y/N.

~~

If someone asked, Y/N would tell that life was... Weird. That was the exact word she'd use. Weird. Months following her.. forceful moving were misleading, to say the least. She braced herself for all kinds of impact, whatsoever, coming from the hand of a gangster who wouldn't bat an eye on becoming the death for hundreds of people. He was indifferent, cold, never faltering to wordlessly remind people of who he was.

The first couple days, Y/N spent purely in the room she woke up in for the first time. Heart violently thumping whenever she'd hear muffled steps behind the door.

…and so she waited, and waited, until one of the maids brought her dinner with a smile gentle enough to bring some sense of safety, but not enough to reach her eyes. After that... She left the room, silently walking through the dark corridors of Arrow house. The cold and silent air occasionally cut with little Charlie's laugh or chatter, whenever someone would visit on the rare occasions Mr. Shelby was home. She didn't dare talk to him, hell, even look him in the eyes. The energy and power he emanated with was enough to make her understand her position.

Not worthy of even looking at him. And so she avoided him at all costs, like a little mouse would with a big scary cat. Even months after moving in, once the maids established the rules with her in Tommy's name, she was focused on being... As little trouble as possible. Despite the comforts of the big mansion, she constantly felt in danger.

Especially when the source of that feeling would stare at her across the room when she wouldn't manage to leave in time. Feeling his heavy gaze on her back, or hearing a snarky remark as she wouldn't dare to turn around.

So she knitted, attended horses, went on walks around the property and even indulged in meaningless talks with the only young woman she'd occasionally meet, Ada Shelby. Sister of a man so scary, yet not resembling him one bit. Y/N grew to like her.

"Does he talk to you at all? I never asked you before." Ada asked, letting out a cloud of smoke in the air as Y/N's eyes remained focused on the tea she was preparing.

Shifting from one leg to the other, Y/N tensed lightly, not wanting to talk about him.

"Not really, and... And I think it's okay." She finally stuttered out. "Mr. Shelby is a busy man and I don't want to get in any sort of trouble. Life has been treating me well ever since I'm here." Her voice was confident, yet gentle, just like always, not daring to speak about the humiliations she was dealing with on daily from him.

Ada looked at her cautiously for just a second, before taking another puff.

"He wasn't always like this." She eventually said, her voice low and quieter, almost as if he could hear it.

As if she knew

Y/N's eyes met hers, exchanging the knowing look which held something heavier. Something she couldn't put a finger on.

"I believe you," She breathed out, nodding.

~~

"Y/N" She heard, looking out of the window. Voice muffled through the thin wood of her door. "Please, come in" She offered kindly, seeing one of the older maids come in, offering nothing but a small smile on her thin lips.

"Mr. Shelby asked you to come to his office" She stated calmly, but the uneasiness in her eyes shone through the façade. Y/N froze for a second, her hand gripping onto the side of her nightstand.

"W-Why?" The usual gracefulness and

minimalistic confidence she carried herself with, gone, giving way to fear. She watched as the older woman let out a sigh, gently tilting her head to the side with a small smile.

"I'm sure you'll find out once you get there, Miss."

When she left, Y/N cautiously came closer, her head peaking out of the doorway to look at the door office. Dark wood, almost black. So fitting to the personality it hid days and nights.

He asked her to come, and so she did. Lazily making her way through the doorway, occasionally hearing the creaking beneath her white shoes.

That's what he was getting her. White shoes, white dresses, white everything. Y/N never dared to ask whether it was Ada, maids or himself choosing the type of underwear she wore. At the idea, her cheeks turned dusty pink just when her hand grabbed the handle.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed lightly, slipping into the room and closing the door behind. It took a few seconds before she moved at all, immediately feeling like she was caged in a lion's den.

As he flipped through the papers, she looked up, finally seeing him. Thomas didn't bother to look at her, continuing his work with a cigarette lying in an expensive ashtray, smoke seeping seemingly all the way to the ceiling.

"Mr. Shelby" She spoke up quietly, fumbling with the hem of her dress as her heart loudly thumped, perhaps trying to escape her ribcage.

Breathing through her mouth, Y/N tried to calm herself down as he seemed unbothered, as if she wasn't there.

So she waited, because he asked her to come. So she did.

"Sit down, Y/N" He finally said after several moments, not bothering with a quick response. He could afford to make people wait for him.

...and so she did, following his request which always sounded too demanding to officially call it that. Sitting on the chair in front of his desk, she leaned back, keeping her hands neatly folded on her lap. Waiting for a reason he called for her. All the dark and even darker thoughts ran through her mind one after the other.

Is he going to kill me? Have I done something wrong?

Five minutes turned into ten, ten into fifteen before finally, Y/N couldn't stand the tension as it turned into a pounding headache. She was.. scared.

”Mr. Shelby, why am I here?” She managed to breathe out eventually, fearfully glancing into his eyes hidden behind the glasses he wore.

Thomas didn't move, finishing up the contract as he smoked, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and carefully letting it out. As the cigarette came to an end, he stumbled it out before looking up and catching her staring at him. Shamelessly, he watched every small expression on her face, glancing towards her legs covered in white tights before sighing, and leaning back into his armchair.

”To keep me company, why else would you be here?” He responded in a husky voice, stating it as an obvious fact, making her feel stupid. Just like he wanted her to, of course.

It wasn't new by any means, Thomas Shelby he never missed an opportunity to talk to her like she was stupid, or openly mocking her.

Inhaling the smoke, Tommy let his gaze linger on her a little longer before dropping to his documents once more, losing interest in a conversation that hardly happened.

Y/N nodded, obediently which he saw in his peripheral vision.

Good girl

~~

After six days of her daily visits in his office, Y/N grew slightly less anxious. She didn't know why would he want her company since he clearly despised her, showing it on every step he could… besides those couple hours she was spending in his office.

That was the only exception.

One the seventh day, Y/N didn't wait for Frances to come and get her, instead she got ready on her own, bringing the book she was given by Mr. Shelby last time. The less she had to talk to him, the best it was for her own good.

Making her way across the quiet, dark corridor, Y/N sighed deeply before pressing on the handle, as the door opened.

As always, he was sitting by the desk, round glasses on his face as Thomas Shelby didn't spare her a single glance.

He never did whenever she came, even if he was the one who demanded her presence.

Y/N stood by the doorway, holding onto the book before finally, he sighed with annoyance, looking up.

”Take a seat, Y/N” He invited another day in a row, already knowing she wouldn't move if he didn't… allow her.

So good she was, never touching the things she wasn't supposed to. Never asking, never talking if he didn't start the conversation. The innocence was causing an itch, one Thomas couldn't scratch on his own.

Almost soundlessly she walked over to the couch, one that was too expensive to be this uncomfortable, but Y/N wouldn't dare to complain.

She sat on it quietly, putting her book aside as she looked out of the window, falling deep into her thoughts.

Y/N wondered, why was she even here? How did her family react to her sudden absence, did her father say the truth?

Times were difficult, dangerous enough for many young women to just… disappear.

Was that what he told her mother? she wondered, feeling the heartache at the memory of her loving mother. Her travel through the depths of her memory took longer than she thought, when suddenly, Y/N heard that deep sigh along with the armchair moving abruptly. Wooden legs scratching against the floor, perhaps leaving marks.

Her eyes snapped up, seeing him raise from his seat, rolling up his sleeves as he shook his head lightly.

”Books aren't interesting enough, eh? I thought little girls liked little stories,” He mocked, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, stirring it around with a swift move before he turned to face her. Feeling the shift in the air, Y/N shook her head with fear, her heart thumping loudly.

Can he hear it? Y/N wondered,

”N-No, Mr. Shelby I–” She started nervously, trying to explain but he cut her off without a care,

”’Yes, Mr. Shelby, ‘No, Mr. Shelby” His voice came out in a snarl, taunting as he saw pure fear in her eyes. ”I taught you well after all”

It wasn't new, the way people feared him. But the pure, little thing like her, it.. felt different. Addictive even. Taking a couple steps forward, he stood nearby before leaning down, his outstretched hands causing her to wince, afraid.

The impact never came, Y/N felt him tug on her chin. ”You don't have a single fucking ounce of rebellion in you, Dove.” The corner of his lips turned upwards as she closed her eyes, not brave enough to pull away from his touch. ”Doing exactly as you're told, eh?” His words were brimming on the edge of appropriateness because of the tone he was using. Her heart was thumping loudly with fear, and Y/N wondered whether… he heard it.

”I’m d–doing what I have to,” She quietly responded, feeling humiliated with the insinuations.

Suddenly Thomas crouched down in front of her, his rough, calloused hand grabbed her jaw, tugging and perhaps leaving bruises as he made her look into his eyes.

”No,” He hissed, ”You’ll do anything I fucking tell you to.” His voice was rough, a little odd even for him. Y/N tried to blame it on the amount of alcohol he drank. Tommy's eyes danced around her face, searching for any sign of weakness and as soon as he held her gaze once more, his lips turned into a wolfish grin.

The girl… she was completely pure and innocent. Her eyes so clear, he could read every emotion going through her head. His grip became stronger as he leaned closer.

”Are my books not good enough for you?” He snarled, unable to hold himself back from looking on her lips. Y/N squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to shake her head as tears gathered under her eyelids. ”Look at me,” He growled, and she tried, but the fear was overwhelming. ”I won't tell you twice” She sniffled, opening her eyes as she noticed the close proximity he was at.

”Not so fuckin’ stupid after all, eh?” Thomas let out a humoured sigh, leaning forward and leaving a little peck on her lips, before pulling away.

Slowly he walked over to the table, pouring himself another generous glass of whiskey.

”I know girls like you” He spoke up suddenly with a shake of his head, eyes remaining locked on the glass. ”Raised without a firm hand, to be treated as a princess of sorts..” The way his tongue wrapped around the words brought disgust to her mind. ”You think you're too good for us, Y/N? Too good for my house?”

Y/N watched with teary eyes as his head snapped up, meeting her gaze.

”Too good for my books, aren't you, Y/N?” The young girl sniffled, attempting to catch a breath so she could explain…

”N-No, Mr. Shelby.” Y/N stuttered out, but he ignored her voice, taking another glass in a gulp before turning around with a shake of his head. Y/N glanced towards the door, silently analyzing whether she'd make it to the door before he'd catch her.

Quickly giving up, as she realized that... She was very far away from anything she knew. There was nowhere to run from him.

Thomas felt her gaze at his back, as be poured whiskey into the wide glass in his hand. He turned it in his hand, thinking for a moment before he faced her again. Slowly walking across the room, as he pointed towards his desk.

"There's a pack of cigarettes on my desk. Light one for me, Y/N." He demanded out of the blue, not sparing her a single look and the tone of his voice proved to her that... There was no time to lose. He wanted it right away. Immediately getting on her feet, she walked towards the desk, passing by Tommy by mere inches, trying not to flinch as his scent registered in her senses.

Strong, heavy and... Specific.

Taking out a single cigarette out of the pack, she grabbed the little box with her shaky hand. With furrowed brows she finally managed to light it with a match, keeping it directly with the flame.

Tommy watched with amusement at her inexperience, clearing his throat as he leaned on the desk.

”Put it to your lips, then light and inhale. It's the only right way to do it,” He instructed sternly, watching her face. Seeking reaction.

Y/N tried to maintain a confident façade, but internally she felt out of her depth, cringing at the idea of feeling the flavour of tobacco on her tongue. She had never smoked before nor had she any inclination to start. This was certainly a test he was giving her: a test of her obedience and one she wasn't willing to fail.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Y/N lifted the cigarette to her lips, mirroring the way he's always done it. Under the watchful gaze she lit a match, holding the flame to the end, as she suddenly inhaled the smoke as instructed.

Not being able to hold it even for a second, Y/N plucked it out of her mouth as she coughed loudly, struggling to catch her breath.

Thomas couldn't help but chuckle, ripping the cigarette from her grasp and shoving it into his mouth for a long inhale, gaze remaining on her face which turned a few shades of pink darker.

As she slowly managed to pull herself back together, Thomas slowly smoked, one of his hands resting on the desk by his thigh. As her eyes met his, he smiled lightly.

”Do you like it, Y/N?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he watched her carefully, seeking every emotion. Y/N steadied her breath, straightening her dress slowly.

”No, Mr. Shelby” She said with a strained voice. He chuckled, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards her face.

”What’s there not to like, eh? Everyone smokes.” He mocked, raising an eyebrow in the way which made her blood boil.

”The taste,” She responded calmly, ”It’s disgusting”

This time Thomas let out a full laugh, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as his head fell back slightly. He shook his head, looking at her dumbfounded facial expression. Pointing towards the chair by the desk, he motioned for her to kneel down. With wide eyes she silently begged him to let her go, but he didn't.

Only after she did, Thomas scooted closer to the edge, leaning down.

”What do you know about taste, little girl?” He taunted, outstretching his hand to grasp her jaw tightly, too tightly for any sign of comfort. The cigarette was still burning between his middle and ring fingers, making her dizzy with the intense smoke. ”You’ve tasted nothing, Y/N, have you?” His voice was harsh, underlined with the inappropriate desire he held deep in his mind for so long.

The way she… did everything he asked. Despite the burning tears in her eyes, and fear which never left her body around him, she always listened.

”N–No Mr. Shelby” She repeated weakly, as one of the tears ran down her cheek. Y/N tried to nod, to make him happy in anyway just so he would let he go.

”That’s fucking right” He barked loudly through clenched teeth, ”’Yes, Mr. Shelby’, Good fucking girl” He hissed, pulling back, letting go of her jaw.

Looking down, Thomas set the cigarette between his lips before dipping two of his fingers in the glass of whiskey.

”I’ll give you something to try, eh?” He breathed out, looking back up into her fearful eyes. Setting the glass on the desk by his side, Thomas gripped her hair with one of his hands, harshly pulling and keeping her exactly where he wanted, causing pain and more tears to fall.

”Open your fuckin’ mouth” He hissed, as she didn't listen, trying to keep her mouth closed. With another hand he squeezed her jaw just beneath her cheekbones, causing it to open involuntarily. As it did, he shoved his fingers into her mouth, making her taste the bitterness of whiskey on her tongue.

As she surrendered, Tommy relaxed visibly, letting go of her hair as his head tilted to the side.

”You want to be a good girl for me, Y/N.” He said in a voice so odd and low, she couldn't take it in any other way than… threatening. Crying wordlessly, she nodded, tongue swirling around his fingers just like he wanted.

With the amount of whiskey he drank himself, it was easier to read his eyes. The shade slightly changing, pupils dilating depending on what he thought and felt. Her scalp burned, just like her tongue. He watched entranced, moving his fingers in her small mouth, feeling his pants growing tighter around the crotch.

Without missing a beat, he brought the glass to his lips, chugging it in one big gulp before pulling his fingers out of her mouth.

”Did you like it, Y/N?” He asked, petting her cheek with wet fingers, before sighing. ”...and don't fucking lie to me” He growled, causing her to wince in fear as she frantically nodded.

Thomas scooted a little closer, tugging on the material of his suit pants with his dry hand.

”Good,” He added, baring his teeth in a wolfish smile before spreading his lips, and shoving wet digits into his own mouth. Moving them around as he kept eye contact with Y/N, who didn't dare to look away.

”Open” He demanded in a husky voice once he freed his fingers, lifting them to her face. Y/N was too scared to deny him, parting her lips lightly, and it was enough.

Enough for him to slowly shove them inside, his own lips parting as he panted with burning desire. The sight of his spit covered fingers disappearing into her mouth made him completely hard. ”Suck them for me,” He offered gently, but the frenzy in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Obediently looking him in the eyes, Y/N started sucking as best as she could, trying not to choke as he shoved them deeper. It was difficult to focus on the task as he groaned every few seconds, another one of his hand sitting tightly on his crotch, squeezing and tugging.

Her tear stained face seemed to only spur him on, so Y/N did everything to stop crying.

”Please” She tried to speak around his fingers, feeling absolutely humiliated with what was happening.

Hearing it, he slapped her cheek lightly, almost petting as his brows furrowed in mockery.

”You wanted to taste, so fuckin'–taste it!” He growled, choking her as he shoved his fingers deeper once again. ”Ah, that's it” Thomas sighed, taking in the sight of her teary and spit covered face, causing his cock to twitch impatiently in his trousers.

Only then he pulled his hand back, letting her get a breath as he spread the spit all over her cheek, touching the soft skin.

”Can–Can I go now?” She asked quietly, trying not to sob, but as he shook his head slowly with a chuckle, Y/N knew it was far from end. Furious sobs ripped out of her throat, causing him to tilt his head as he watched, leaning back.

”You need to understand one thing, Y/N” His voice turned serious, completely different from the usual mockery he was treating her with. ”You see,” He sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. ”I paid for you a small fortune. You and the horse you love, eh? What was his name?” He spoke in a low tone, keeping an eye contact.

”S–Snow” She choked out,

”Ah, yes. Such a smart girl” He praised, petting her thigh and causing her to squirm. ”Which in the adult world means I own you. Fully and completely.” A small grin spread on his face, not reaching his eyes. ”So when I tell you to read, you read. When I tell you to suck, you fuckin’ suck! You hear me?!” He raised his voice with each word, followed by stumbling out a cigarette in the ashtray as he raised from his chair, quickly standing right in front of her.

”Look at me,” He demanded, and the warmth radiating from his body only reminded her of how close he was. Of how easily he could hurt her. So she did.

Looking up, Y/N’s eyes met dark orbs, almost completely black in the dim light of the room and with the desires he was holding deep inside. His fingers lightly grabbed her chin, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the side.

”...and right now, I will teach you another thing that you will be grateful to me for,”

With that, Thomas let go of her chin after pulling it down, making her stare ahead. Her eyes falling on the tent in his trousers, the evidence of his desire and list evident in a way that she was terrified of.

”Please, just–” She muttered out, before another slap landed on her cheek, this time harder, successfully shutting her up.

”I’m growing tired of little bitches like yourself pretending to be all proper, Y/N. Don't make me tell you what to do, because you won't like it, I assure you.” Y/N swallowed her tears, bracing herself for another potential hit as her hands raised in the air, reaching for his belt and slowly unclasping it.

She fumbled for a moment with his zipper, earning an annoyed sigh from him which made her move faster in fear. Pulling down his briefs, Y/N closed her eyes in hopes he wouldn't notice, but of course he did. Chuckling loudly, Thomas tutted.

”You’re ought to be grateful. Thank me for wasting my fuckin’ time on you!” He growled, getting a hold of his erect member and slapping it across her cheek, making her squeeze her eyes tighter. ”Ungrateful little whore,” He added, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her closer.

”Open” Tommy demanded, pressing his tip against her lips, making her internally cringe but fearing his unrestricted violence, she parted her lips once more. “If I feel your teeth even once, I'm going to fuck your worthless cunt so long till you grow fat with my bastards” He growled, pulling on more strands, forcing her to nod her head in understanding.

Y/N remained motionless, not knowing what to do and at the same time, she didn't want to provoke him.

Feeling her obedience and fear, Thomas sighed, letting go of her hair and petting her cheek lightly.

”Good girl”

Moving his hips forward, he stuffed her face with more of his cock, giving her some time to grow accustomed to his thickness.

“Now suck on it, Dove” He instructed, watching her face as she hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper as she sucked on the few inches she had in her mouth. Tommy hummed under his breath, feeling the familiar tingling in his spine at the sight. Such an innocent, pretty girl falling into the devil's embrace. Sinning on his account as he watched, and drank every second. ”Just like that”

Just when Y/N got used to the pace and depth he settled earlier, Tommy pushed on her head, forcing her to swallow him further and making her choke. She fought against his grasp, feeling dizzy with the lack of air as he began fucking her throat, not really caring about the nails sinking into his thighs.

Pulling away, he let out a laugh glancing on the mirror a few feet away from him. Y/N violently coughed, trying to catch a breath but his attention was elsewhere. Mirror which happened to stand by the opposite wall, a few feet behind Y/N’s back allowed him to get a perfect look. Her dress ridden up, revealing her white panties.

”Who knew you'd be such a whore, eh? Maybe I should make a penny out of you, after all. You'd do well in a brothel if that's what you like,” He laughed cruelly, leaning forward and shoving his cock back into her mouth, as he grasped her underwear. Tutting and groaning, Thomas pulled up, causing the material to dig into her pussy and ass. Y/N cried out around his fat member, trying to get out of his hold but he was too strong.

Tommy pulled until he became satisfied with the wet patch on her underwear, which was now evident on the white lace.

Letting her pull away again, Thomas grabbed his spit covered cock, tugging and rubbing as he groaned loudly, throwing his head back. The sight of her kneeling in front of him, with her cunt wet and face tearstained was too much, as orgasm suddenly arrived when he didn't expect it.

Stroking furiously, Tommy shot out load after load, painting her face just like he imagined before.

Silently, Y/N prayed to anything that was willing to listen for it to be the end of this encounter. Her sobbing died down, and gaze became absent as she dissociated.

Eventually seeing the difference in her eyes, Thomas chuckled darkly before running a hand through her messy hair.

”Don’t make me repeat myself,” He said, his voice echoing throughout the room before she raised her dead eyes to meet his.

”Thank you, Mr. Shelby”

~~

@iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @chaimaarouaine11 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @honeymoon8

Lost On You

Robert Fischer x Reader

PART 1

6.5k words

A/N: sorry it took so long but it's here, life's been busy! The story will be written in a little different style, as I got inspired by old English novels. The point of view will be switching frequently to give a bigger outlook. Let me know what you think!

Money. They say it's something acquired and that it doesn't bring happiness, but ninety eight percent of your living doesn't come from nowhere, right? We don't get to choose workplaces based on wellbeing or fun, at least not everyone has the privilege to do so. Money. Nothing else would keep me here for so long, Y/N thought.

She couldn't help but ponder on her choices, driving in an automatic state of mind, doing it out of habit and barely paying attention. It's a surprise that I never crashed, the woman thought to herself chuckling under her breath.

Glancing at the buildings and, still sitting behind the wheel of her car - a white, six-year-old Honda Civic, as she asks herself every morning: Why do I still work here? Why do I get out of bed every morning, ten minutes before my alarm, when I'm already losing to time every single day, stuck in traffic jams and still being late almost everyday? Why have I been doing this for three years instead of two.. at most?

For money and practice, that's obvious, her own, bitter at times mind replies with slight annoyance.

This is the third year of her toiling at Fischer Morrow and Y/N had no idea how time has flown by so quickly. At the age of twenty-three years old and since she started college, FM has been her first and last place of employment. She got a paid internship in October of her first year, which seemed too good to be true. Yet here she was. Honestly? It wasn't a feat or success at all, and Y/N only understood that with time. Her raging headache was slowly growing with each thought crossing her mind. It was.. a daily thing for her, her mind being on overdrive.

For centuries, there has been a belief at all types of universities that freshmen never get internships, however, this is just not true, not entirely because the truth lies somewhere else. They don't get internships because they DON'T WANT them. Yes, they don't. It's a pain in the ass. First, you have to prove yourself to get one, and then you have to immediately approach everything very seriously and for little to no money.

You have to be responsible: don't waste your weekends partying. Your mind needs to always be focused on studying and working. That's why it's better to start later. There's time for everything in life, and instead of partying, meeting people, and enjoying student life, I got busy working. I take it seriously. SERIOUSLY.

However, not everything is so bad. Over time, such actions bring tangible benefits. I have more experience than other students and I know that I will have no problems finding a job. But I also have a good salary: better than if I interned at any competitor company. FM pays me more than students are usually paid, and the salary increases with the duration of the internship, so after almost three years… I was fine. Just fine.

I'm renting an apartment of my own, I have my own “almost new” car, and well. I never need to borrow any money from anyone. It's a bad habit that I absolutely don't want to ever have.

So what keeps me going here is fucking money, Y/N eventually decides as she gets out of the car, shutting the door close and wrapping the coat around herself a little tighter, since the weather wasn't the dreamiest. It was autumn after all.

Walking through the company parking lot, she made her way towards the main entrance. Her clicking heels were the only sound around besides the raging wind. As she passed through the door, she saw a very familiar woman.

Vicky, was sitting by the receptionist desk writing something down until she heard the door swinging open.

Vicky looked up to see Y/N as she lightly smiled. Her makeup was a little too intense for the workplace, but it had become what she was known for. People liked to talk about Vicky in less flattering ways than necessary, which… maybe was another reason why Y/N grew to like her so much. Going with the flow tended to feel like an itch and, well, who liked that damn nagging sensation? Nobody. Clearly.

“Early as ever” The redhead said with a chuckle, her bold-red lips stretching into a smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a sigh, raising an eyebrow.

“...and good morning to you too. I guess” She replied, smoothing out her hair, which of course didn't want to fully lay down, slightly waving at the ends. Y/N leaned slightly over the desk. “Is the witch here already?” she asked in a quiet tone, looking around to make sure nobody caught her words.

“Which one? There's plenty” Vicky whispered back with a chuckle, seeing the unimpressed look.

Unable to contain her laughter, Y/N covered her mouth to make the snort she let out as inaudible as possible.

“The Italian one” She replied.

The Fischer Morrow company is owned by Italian-American entrepreneur Maurice Fischer. In order to work there, you need to constantly improve your language skills. Knowledge of Italian was one of the criteria to receive the internship. Even though I'm only an intern and my Italian is at a high level, I also have to attend lessons once a week. They are paid for by Fischer himself. This is another bonus of interning or working for this company in my opinion.

Free Italian language lessons. If only the Italian teacher wasn’t so terrible.

“Girl, I'm a receptionist. How am I supposed to know?” Vicky says with a sigh, followed by a shrug. Obviously she was disappointed with how little people in the company communicated with her despite being the first point of contact for anyone who entered Fischer Morrow. She was a little nosey by nature.

Y/N sighed deeply before straightening her back, grabbing her purse, and heading to the elevator with a heart pounding in her chest. She loved the Italian language, but simply despised the current teacher.

She's demanding and bitter, plus treats me like a fucking ten year old. She tends to leave us homework, which I rarely get on time because of the amount of work I have. She's thrilled every single time, needless to say.

“Y/N!” Vicky yelled out, as she rushed towards the closing elevator doors, managing to stop them on time with her arm. “You-know-who is calling us to the conference room. Not only us but most departments.” She said, trying to catch her breath in the meantime.

“What for?” Y/N asked with surprise.

Mr. Fischer was not someone who'd usually make announcements. He was demanding and reasonably kind but his expectations towards his workers were always high. Whether anyone liked it or not, he'd make a drastic change and expect people to get used to it immediately.

“Who knows, but… I'm telling you in case.” She said, giving Y/N THE look.

She immediately understood, nodding gracefully and letting out a deep breath as the door closed.

Walking through the corridor, Y/N noticed several workers heading IMMEDIATELY to the conference room.

That's sooner than expected, she thought with a sarcastic chuckle.

Caroline, the head of advertising, walked like she owned the whole building in her obscenely high heels, barely keeping from breaking her ankles as her hips swayed beneath the tight skirt.

Oh my fucking god, please not her. Anyone but her.

“Hey, Y/N” She said in a fake sweet tone that made Y/N contain an eyeroll. “Did you hear that we all have a meeting? I wonder why. Maybe something happened? Maybe I will get a promotion?!” She started babbling without giving her colleague a chance to speak at all. It wasn't anything new about her, that's just the way Caroline was.

“What's that?” Y/N asked, pointing at the hard cover in Caroline's hand, trying to smoothly change the topic.

The taller woman glanced at her own grip, like she didn't know herself before smiling once again.

“Oh, it's a calendar. I thought that I should look, you know, busy and smart since Fischer will be there.” She explained with such pride, causing Y/N to internally cringe.

Oh god, I sighed inwardly. Not that I consider myself an expert on human behaviour, but this is probably way beneath my dignity, or I haven't soaked the corporate dress code in yet.

“He'll probably start whining again and ask obvious questions.” Y/N murmured under her breath, barely listening to Caroline and Marie, another department head, who suddenly appeared by her side.

With a fucking calendar tucked under her armpit.

They immediately started talking about Vicky from the reception, feeling the need to comment on everything about her, apparently.

The boss always asks strangely simple and at the same time uncomfortable questions. He is an old-school man and often does not understand what we do. You need to explain to him the mechanisms of how some of the departments function and, despite appearances, this can be difficult. Caroline can't recall the details in her head, and Marie, in turn, can't explain how it works. That's probably why they work together. They must complement each other. But this is not a reason to discredit the boss. He wouldn't be where he is today if he weren't smart in some way? Right? Or maybe it's just my naivete, because when I look at my colleagues who pretend to be professional, hold old calendars in their hands and call the reception girl a plastic doll while holding high positions, I start to doubt it. I have the impression that the higher the position in this company, the worse the intellect and intelligence.

“But you like her, right Y/N? Can't blame you though, coming in late so often and knowing the receptionist well enough to make sure she doesn't tell on you must come in handy.” Marie said in such a fake kind way that well that annoyed Y/N more than she'd like it to.

It was supposed to sting and it did, but Marie is not my boss and all she can do is talk. I have nothing against her, but her fanatical approach to work can be tiring. Marie doesn't understand that not everyone finds her job the love of his life. By the way, I wonder how her husband feels in this arrangement, knowing that she is cheating on him with her job

Even our boss, whom I hate as much as the Italian teacher, isn't that fanatical. Another witch. My nemesis.

Katherina

She is mean and annoying, but at the same time has a lot of knowledge and experience. Sometimes a nice word will slip from her lips but it barely comes out of her throat, accompanied by THAT grimace and her praise sounds artificial from ANY distance. She doesn't have a sense of humour and is a cunning bitch. Calculating like no other and often ruthless. She always gets what she wants, and is one of the people who have the ability to approach the CEO and talk about budget in such a way ensuring she will always get the largest of all departments. Katherina is a real business bitch.

“Let's just get going” Y/N said, ripping herself out of the thoughts, turning around and slowly walking into the conference room which was by now filled with people.

We took our places by the humongous table in the middle, impatiently waiting on what was to come.

Everyone wonders what this meeting is for and quiet whispers fill the room. However, when Mr. Fischer appears with a serious face, everyone falls silent. We know right away that what he wants to tell us will not be pleasant.

Our boss is an older and slightly mannered man, with a specific sense of humour. Always dressed in a suit and a white shirt, he creates an aura of inaccessibility around him and immediately, at first glance, commands respect.

I don't like talking to him in private, although he once mentioned that he likes me and even loves my work style. To this day, I don't know how he knows what I'm doing, but it’s not important. I guess he wanted to let me know that he still has his finger on the pulse of even the smallest details.

I must admit, it's very encouraging to hear such praise from the CEO himself, but I still don't like talking to him.

The older man sits down in his usual seat and opens his notes. He looks up at all of us and sighs.

“Ladies and gentlemen” He begins almost like he was starting a holy mass in a church, and as if by an innate reflex I want to fold my hands in a prayer, even though I am not a Christian by any means. “...because I wanted to inform you that I will soon be planning to retire…” he finishes the first sentence in a weak tone, and the whole room is filled with a murmur of quiet conversations and surprised voices.

“Yes, yes, I'm so old that it's time to get going..” he adds and laughs briefly, while no one else has the courage to do so. “...and you're probably wondering who will take over the position in our company after me, well... “ He makes an appropriate pause to build tension.

“My older son Robert is coming back to us.” he finishes, and the room begins to boil, but not from words, but from employees squirming in their chairs.

They all look at each other as one and hear single words of surprise. The faces of some of them are not very optimistic, not to mention disgusted, but the boss quickly silences the noise with a loud clearing of his throat.

“...and although I know the circumstances in which he disappeared from the company, the most important thing now is that he returns and will take my position, but only in a few months, when I will re-implement and improve his training" he adds, and my thoughts wander towards my first days at work.

Despite the lack of interest Y/N had in the topic of Mr. Fishers’ son, she got an earful of it on her way back to the office.

Quiet conversations filled the corridor as people whispered about Robert Fischer, who apparently got kicked out a little time before Y/N got the job, so they never met. Not that she regretted such a sequence of events, as he sounded like an immature person lacking professional approach in work, and having more interest in women. Not the best colleague to have around.

Not long after, Maurice Fischer sighed deeply, gesturing to us that we could leave, so without waiting, Y/N made her way out of the crowded room. Ignoring Caroline's voice calling her name, she made her way through the corridor and chose the stairs instead of the elevator this time. It was faster.

Closing the door behind her back, Y/N closed her eyes for a second with a sigh, feeling relieved. Finally peace.

Sitting in her chair, she fixed her hair with a swift movement, putting it in a neat ponytail as her phone rang.

Deep sigh pushed past her lips once again, as she saw Maurice Fischer's name on the screen.

“Yes, Sir?” She responded in a professional tone without missing a beat.

“Y/N can you swing by my office in twenty minutes? I'd like to discuss something.” His voice was tense, and it didn't sound very promising.

God, I hope I didn't fuck something up, she thought.

“Of course. I'll be there, Mr. Fischer.” Her eyes shifted around the desk as she nodded unknowingly, before putting the phone down with a click.

Now, she was stressed, but it didn't mean that she could get away with the work that was waiting.

Without wasting another minute, her fingers started pressing on the keyboard at a quick pace, filling up the documents from her files, making sure no mistakes were made.

Twenty minutes passed sooner than she'd wished for them to, and soon enough Y/N was quickly walking through the corridor, holding tightly onto the file and her phone, typing away email after email before a certain impact caused her to almost drop the phone on the ground.

With a gasp she looked up, seeing a… young man with brown, neat hair and piercing blue irises.

His eyes widened for some reason as he let out a gasp.

“Katherina?” He said in a low, raspy voice which was filled with… something that Y/N couldn't quite put her finger on.

Quickly fixing up her facial expression, she cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head.

“No, no… I'm Y/N. You must have taken me for someone else.” Her voice was confident, not showing the confusion in the tiniest bit. Chin raised proudly, as she didn't shy away from eye contact, bravely grazing into his eyes.

The man blinked a couple times, sizing her up before letting out a breath as he nodded, smoothing out his suit jacket.

“Forgive me, it's… my first day today. I must have been a little confused.” He said slowly, carefully choosing his words as he straightened his back. Buttoning his jacket up one button higher, he stretched out his hand towards Y/N.

“I'm Enzo” His voice was smooth like butter, which already caused Y/N to… dislike the man in front of her.

Nevertheless, it was only proper to shake his hand in such circumstances.

“Y/N” Her voice came off kind but distanced, showing off how disinterested she was in having any longer conversations. “Unfortunately I'm in a rush, so I must go. I hope the rest of your day will pass with… less confusion.”

After the words left her mouth, she passed by him like a wind, leaving behind a trail of perfumes in the air and smirk on his lips. She seemed… challenging.

***

When I reached my floor after meeting the boss and went into my office, the girls almost immediately showed up right after me.

“So what did he want? What did he want?” They asked one after another.

“Nothing, he asked about my Italian classes.” I shrugged and they looked at me like I'm an alien.

“About Italian?” Caroline asked, slightly… deflated and confused.

“No way,” Marie murmured with annoyance.

Of course they immediately sniff out gossip.

“Yep, he asked how my teacher is and that's it.” My voice slightly bored as I looked at them, silently wanting them both to leave.

They fell silent and glanced at me and then at each other.

“Weird” said Caroline, and began to think hard about something. Still in my office, if I may add.

“Weird,” Marie repeated after her.

“So, what do you think about this Robert guy coming back?” I'm asked, because Marie and Caroline have been working here longer and probably knew him.

“Oh come on, did you see how all the girls started drooling?” Caroline asked with a smirk followed by a chuckle.

“Well, I saw what a stir it caused.” replied, sorting out the paper sheets on my desk before looking up. “That's why I'm asking.”

“He’s a womaniser, a rake, and quite the seducer,” Marie said confidently.

“Not you saying that! I thought you two were friends!” Caroline imitated her and nudged Marie in the arm with a loud giggle, covering her mouth like a schoolgirl.

“Oh come on, we had lunch together in the community kitchen because he happened to come by, and now you're saying we were friends.” Marie said indignantly with her brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Admit it, he was hitting on you” Caroline laughed at her.

"You're stupid," Marie continued grumbling and stuck out her tongue, laughing teasingly, "Admit it, you were the one who had your eye on him."

“Stupid, I've already been with Tyler, come on, stop talking nonsense, I don't want such insinuations” Caroline said, becoming more serious as her eyes widened, shifting between me and Marie.

“Okay” I said to end the argument. “I still don't understand the Robert phenomenon, can you explain it to me?”

“The Robert Fischer phenomenon cannot be explained, you have to see it yourself” Caroline stated and waved her hand at me with a smirk. “It was enough for the boss to say his name and you saw what was happening in the room?” She pushed further, proving her point.

I just nodded my head in the affirmative and Marie quickly filled in the rest.

“All the girls get wet when they see him, at least the ones who remember him.” Marie said quieter, leaning towards me with her eyes widening.

“Well, he's that handsome? Charming?” I ask further, getting slightly frustrated with not understanding the big deal. There were plenty of handsome men working in Fischer Morrow.

They nodded affirmatively, shrugging lightly. “The CEO mentioned that he's his older son, which means he has a younger one too, right?” I asked.

“Oh, yes” Caroline sighed and waved her hand dismissively “Enzo is even more of a freeloader than Robert. He studied at the Academy of Fine Arts.” She responded, and… that was all I needed to know.

“Oh no” I dramatically stuck my hand out with a chuckle.

“I guess I don't have to tell you what kind of guy it is” Caroline winked before starting to laugh.

“No, no, thanks,” I shook my head disapprovingly.

My brother also studied at the Academy of Fine Arts and although I love him more than anything in my life, I know exactly what kind of person he is. He lives for alcohol, parties and has no principles. He gets up when he's had enough sleep, talks to people when he thinks he needs it and doesn't care who he sleeps with. Only art resides in his heart and next to it there is no room for any woman or man - if he were gay, which he isn't - but there is plenty of that room in his bed. Every night. For any pretty girl he sets his mind to. A typical visual person. He likes big tits, blonde hair and a bit of weirdness. The last girl he spent the night with in my apartment had half of her body tattooed. He is fascinated by tattoos.

In one word: Artist.

Caroline and Marie laughed loudly, leaving my office, and I sat down at my desk, the topic of Robert Fischer and his little brother no longer interested me.

I turned on my computer and started replying to a dozen or so emails and that's how I spent the rest of my shift.

***

Coming in another day wasn't easier at all, the weather getting WORSE, causing Y/N to give up on wearing heels that day, as she preferred to keep her legs intact rather than get hurt.

Walking into the building, like always, she looked around for Vicky who was sitting by the desk.

“Y/N!” She hissed suddenly.

"What?" I asked surprised, coming up closer to the desk as I set my purse down, looking for a hand balm.

“Witch” Vickie replied and grimaced as she did so, letting Y/N know that the teacher was already impatient and annoyed because of her being late and that Vicky had no idea what the other woman was doing here.

When sudden realisation hit, she barely restrained herself from hitting herself in the forehead.

“God! Wednesday!” A panicked whisper pushed past her lips. “I have Monday's Italian lesson due today. I completely forgot. Please, occupy her for a second.” She whispered pleadingly and still almost silently, knowing that the door to the room where the teacher was was open and that she could probably hear the conversation if she tried hard enough.

“Okay” after a minute of silence Vicky gave her a nod “...but hurry up. I don't want her to turn me into a frog.” She snorted a short laugh and covered her mouth with her hand.

“I'll just take my jacket off, and open my office. Then I'm ready.” Y/N replied again quietly and ran towards the right office wing.

She quickly stripped off her coat and grabbed the notebook and pen, hurrying back to the reception desk. Just before the door to the hall, she smoothed down her black dress, hair and entered quietly.

“Buongiorno” She greeted, but to her surprise, there was no one inside. Looking around and coming in deeper only did I notice them.

At a small conference table she was sitting accompanied by the guy I bumped into outside a few days ago. The handsome, very much my type, weird Enzo.

Taking advantage of the fact she was still not visible to them, Y/N smiled lightly to herself, a shiver running down her spine.

I wonder what he's doing here? She thought.

Both of them, busy talking, barely noticed Y/N’s entrance, especially… older teacher. If she could, she would melt under the pressure of his gaze, like ice cream in the sun.

It wasn't surprising seeing the effect he had on most women, but the situation was embarrassing to say the least, because she was about twenty years older than him.

They only stopped their oh-so-nice chat when Y/N cleared her throat and sat down at the table.

They both looked at her, the woman with distaste, and Fischer in a way that made Y/N feel like she was completely naked.

“God, Mother Nature or other creator of all existence, what a look!” She thought to herself before wondering more and more intensely what the boss’ younger son was doing here.

“Buongiorno,” the teacher greeted finally, while Enzo only started looking at the younger woman even more insistently. Sigh.

I glanced at him. He was dressed in a navy suit, white shirt, sitting squarely across from me, with his legs crossed, his ankle resting on his knee. He was looking straight at me the whole time. A shiver ran down my spine again and I couldn't stop or resist it in any way. His gaze so insistent, but also… intriguing. He was clearly the type who knows exactly how to look at a woman to intimidate her. My gaze shifted at my notes, as I started trying not to glance at him again.

I felt a little embarrassed and completely intimidated. I immediately remember the warmth of his hand and his smooth voice as I saw him the last time I saw him. It was a nice thought.

No matter how hard I tried, I could still feel his eyes on me. I knew he was staring at me, but I almost never let myself get provoked so I tried not to glance or show him that his gaze had any effect on me.

Turned out that the teacher noticed it as well and was.. probably jealous of his attention? This whole situation was so odd, that I had no idea what to do.

The older woman straightened her back, clearing her throat like I did a couple moments ago and ostentatiously shoved the attendance list under his nose so that he wouldn't stare at me anymore.

"Please sign," she said to him sweetly.

Interesting. Are they on first name terms? Yeah, right. Who wouldn't want to be on first name terms with a guy like that?

I glanced at him again, starting to secretly observe what he was doing, and without taking his eyes off me, he picked up a pen and casually signed the list, followed by pushing it away from him as if it were something unnecessary.

I looked away again, pretending to look for something in my notebook, and he rested his elbows on the conference table and leaned toward me.

“Buongiorno, Y/N. I didn't know I'd have the honor of taking classes with you.” He spoke in pure Italian with an accent that his teacher probably envied.

I stared at him in surprise for a moment.

But how? Is he going to attend classes with me? Will the CEO's younger son also work in the company? The CEO didn't mention anything!

“Oh, so you know each other?” The teacher asked pleasantly, but her artificiality gave her away quickly, trying to mask her displeasure at the fact that he knew me and on top of that, said it was an honor.

“Yes, we met a few days ago.” I answered her briefly, which was enough to cause the displeased grimace on her face, as she failed to cover it with a fake smile.

…Which made her look like a frog that got run over.

“Robert will be attending the classes with you, the CEO asked for it.” Mrs Conner explained, seeing the questioning look in my eyes.

In the meantime Robert pulled out the worksheets and started arranging them into two piles. One for me, one for him.

…and that's when I realised.

Wait, who? What Robert? My mind raced to the moment he walked in on me earlier, and I could swear that he introduced himself as Enzo, right?

I wondered, my eyes narrowed before I swiftly pulled the list of names closer to me a bit too quickly. He introduced himself as Enzo!

That's when I heard his soft snort and for some reason I just knew he was making fun of me.

Under the date of today's class I was listed and of course not any Enzo, but… Robert Fischer.

A womaniser, a pick-up artist, and... as it turns out, also a liar.

The Boss' elder son.

The man who was supposed to become my boss so very soon, already fucking up the first impression.

Why do I immediately judge him very badly and assume that he has a nasty character? Well, after what I heard from Caroline and Marie and after how he charmed me, pretending to be someone else.. I can't lie, it's a HORRIBLE first expression!

Even seeing him makes my assumptions clear, it was visible to the naked eye for what pleasures of life he was brought into this world. With such beauty and manner, you don't sit in an office, you lie in bed with women who push themselves there, one after another.

At that moment I immediately understood the ‘Robert Fischer phenomenon’ my colleagues told me about.

I sighed and signed the list without a word, because I didn't even know what to say to him. Thank you? Besides, I had zero intentions for pleasantries after he decided to lie to me after seeing me for the first time. That's what I hated the most, dishonest people.

It annoyed me that he is a man who is absolutely my type, in terms of looks, I couldn’t deny that, but in terms of character, well, he leaves A LOT to be desired, and that's probably why his behaviour intimidated me so much. I felt like an idiot.

“Have you been learning Italian for a long time?” he asked in Italian with a sly smile. Piercing blue eyes scanning my face, looking for… a reaction perhaps.

I glanced at him and he was still staring at me. He was doing it in a way that he knew was making me feel uncomfortable. He was being pushy and rude. A caveman-like show off in a rather unsophisticated way, that I've caught his eye and that he was interested in me for a reason. It was awful.

“It depends,” I answered, also in Italian, looking down at my notes.

“On what?” He pressed further, making me want to roll my eyes so hard they'd just roll out of my damn skull.

“How long is ‘long’ for you?” I answered the question with a question and glanced at the teacher.

Still arranging worksheets.

"How long have you been studying?" His voice became more.. annoyed which gave me some unknown satisfaction. Smiling sweetly, I looked into his eyes with my chin turned up.

“Ten years” I’ve said with honesty in my tone, remembering how, when I was a little girl, I forced my parents to teach me my first lesson.

Italian was not a popular language in the States.

“Ten years?” Robert repeats with a surprise.

I didn't answer, not understanding what was so strange about it, and I had zero will to dwell on why HE was surprised. “After so many years you should already speak with an accent and be above C1.” He added arrogantly, leaning back in his chair which made me scoff.

“And you? How much do you study?” I asked in response without soaring him a single glance.

“Me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Well, technically it was obvious for most of the people here, but why would I give him the satisfaction?

From birth, I assumed.

“So what? Only C1? After forty years?” I mocked with a snort, causing the teacher to open her wrinkly eyes slightly wider at the exchange, as I insinuated that he was not only stupid, but also a forty year old man.

Obviously, he wasn't that age and I was fully aware. If he was thirty, I'd be surprised. I also knew that there are C2 level lessons with a native speaker in the company, but it still made me scoff.

A couple seconds of silence got interrupted as he snorted derisively. I glanced at Robert, catching him staring at me with a stupid smile on his pink lips. He was clearly showing me that he, in fact, did enjoy the little stand off we just had. He was impressed.

God, what have I done?

I quickly became annoyed at myself for losing my cool so fast, and at him for even making me lose it at all. I should have bit my tongue earlier or told him off, but I didn't know how. What would I tell him? To stop staring at me, or to stop picking on me? He'd probably pretend I was imagining things. Because that's how it goes. He only asked about the lessons, but he kept staring at me, and I couldn’t make him understand not to. Besides, I quickly grew worried about what the teacher thought. The last thing I needed was for any gossip to spread around the company, and I knew that the teacher is close friends with the girls from the Accounting Department. She also has lessons with them and they're on first-name terms, because they're about the same age and apparently she studied Italian Philology with one of them. I already could hear them talking shit.

The rest of the lesson passed on me trying to JUST survive. I didn't enjoy it much, as they took their sweet time bragging about their posh lives and places they've been to. Of course in a fluent Italian. I wasn't sure whether he was trying to impress her or anything, but this behaviour made me cringe internally. I couldn't help but count down every minute until the very end.

When the clock finally hit ten, I got up and packed my stuff immediately, rushing to leave the classroom before my head would explode. Passing through the doorway I said goodbye to Robert and the Witch with a short "addio". Right outside the door I quickened my pace as I could hear Robert leaving right behind me. I sneaked away, quickly entering the girls' restroom.

I got to the sink and turned on the water to wash my hands, at the same moment as my eyes caught in a mirror image of Robert walking into the bathroom behind me.

For a second I froze, rooted to the spot. Has he gone mad?

I stared at him for a moment and wondered how I should address him. He was not much older than me. Maybe five years at most, but he was my soon-to-be-boss. He lied about his name and FOLLOWED ME INTO THE TOILET!

“Mr. Fischer, you should leave. It's inappropriate.” I addressed him formally, wanting to emphasise the distance between us.

Even though it was my right to demand it from him, I still felt nervous. Maybe scared even.

A guy followed me into the ladies' room and I know he didn't come here by accident. If he had, he would have come out, apologising, but he was still standing there and looking at me like I'm... In the wrong place.

No, more like prey.

“Why?” He asked stupidly, furrowing his eyebrows in a fake incomprehension as he smiled mockingly.

.. leaning on his shoulder against the wall with arms crossed on his torso.

“Because it's a women's restroom?” I replied in a sharp tone and a fair bit of sarcasm, mirroring his stupid expression.

"So what?" he asked arrogantly, shrugging.

His response took me aback and surprised by his directness. Other women said he was unpredictable, but this bordered on harassment, yet I pushed this thought away. He's just a womaniser and a flirt. I guess he stopped developing in high school.

Eyeing him for a second I straighten my back, keeping my composure.

“Actually, nothing, you can stay here, after all, even the women's toilet is yours in this company, I forgot, but I'm leaving.” I said in a professional tone and without even wiping my hands, headed towards the door as if I had been scalded.

Suddenly he stopped me by pressing his back against the door, cutting off my escape route. I'm trapped, my thoughts racing. I bet someone's going to try to get in here in a minute and find me in the WOMEN'S ROOM WITH THE CEO’S SON! The one whose reputation isn't exactly spotless.

As I look up, his eyes shift around my face and I can see something new in his expression. A glimpse of awkwardness or maybe even… shame?

“I didn't want you to take it that way.” Robert said quickly, raising his hands in surrender as he saw the fear in my eyes. “I wanted to apologise for lying about my name.” He said, as if with regret, and if we weren't in the ladies' room, I might have believed him.

“I’m not angry, but please let me out immediately!” I raised my voice at him, and he looked me in the eyes for a couple seconds, before moving to the side and moving away from the door. He left me enough space to pass through, which I did, as my shoulder brushed against his chest in the meantime.

“It was good to see you, Miss Y/L/N” he added as I passed by before the door shut, still very confident and smiling like the devil.

I left the bathroom as if I was being chased and almost ran to my office. Entering the room, I shut the door closed and let out a deep breath.

I was absolutely outraged and shocked!

What a jerk! How dare he!

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@lau219 @4ria790 @sasha28x @xsweetcatastrophe @betty21rose @aashika1908

I don’t have to make sense this is my blog

BEAUTIFUL AS EVERY YEAR❤️

Birmingham Christmas Market. 🎄

could you do a smut where it takes place after season 4, episode one when Tommy murders that butcher, so right after that he’s extremely pissed off and frustrated so he goes to the bedroom where reader is sleeping in the dark and he wants to let out his stress so he fucks reader roughly while still covered in all that blood it turns reader on a lot and Tommy’s very degrading with his words:)?

WHAT YOU'RE MADE FOR

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: death, angst, violence, angry sex, degradation, smut

A/N: Y'all better start sending requests istg

~~

It felt almost deranged, as Thomas stared in the almost dead man's eyes. Life leaving his irises, lungs choking on blood while trying to take a breath. One so desperately needed. His mouth wide open, pathetically attempting to inhale some oxygen which was already impossible. Last blinks, last moves before he fell to the floor, dirtying everything around and... Leaving the meat raw on the table.

Thomas looked around, only now noticing the state he was in. Covered in blood, almost head to toe. His expensive vest and suit pants absolutely drenched, not to mention the shirt. Letting out a sharp breath, he dropped the sharp tool to the floor, making his way out of the kitchen.

He had so much to do before Christmas. Since the cook died, he needed a new one. Tommy had to call around, find someone last minute and pay extra for cleaning and keeping silent about whereabouts in the Arrow house. So much to do, yet he could barely think with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, making his heart thump and his hands shake.

Normally he would take opium to make it better, but Thomas was well too aware of his wife's reaction to the drug. She hated when he was under influence.

Huffing angrily under his nose he thought of an alternative, and frustration grew as he thought about how difficult Y/N has to make it by arguing. Always arguing. Forcing him to eat better, to take care of himself. So damn loud and opinionated. Throwing back a glass of whiskey, his eyes landed on the staircase and the idea suddenly appeared in his head.

Without missing a beat he made his way up the stairs, leaving bloody marks on the handrail and expensive wood. Quickly walking through the corridor he barged through the door, his precious wife laying on the bed, beautiful as ever. Her white gown hunched up slightly higher than usual, revealing her creamy thighs and reminding him of the lack of underwear.

Standing there, simply staring Thomas felt his pants becoming tighter, all blood going south, exactly where he needed it. Quickly unbuckling his belt and pants he walked over, leaning forward he cooed quietly seeing her peaceful face.

His hand traced her cheek lightly, leaving a bloody mark that made his teeth clench. Deep, crimson red colour in such a stark contrast with the innocent face and white gown of hers. Without waking her up, he quickly pulled her to the edge of the bed by her legs, startling her awake.

"T–Tommy?" She mumbled, eyes barely open as he flipped her on her stomach with a growl. Adrenaline buzzed in his ears as he pawed on her skin, leaving mark after mark from the blood he had on. After a moment she lifted her head, looking back and seeing him completely red, which caused her to squeak in fear. "Thomas, wh–" but he cut her off, pulling his cock out and shoving her legs apart, spitting on her pussy to use as a lube.

"Shut up!" He hissed, climbing onto the bed and straddling her thighs. "I kept you safe. I've fulfilled my duty, and kept you safe!" He hissed into her ear, grabbing a handful of hair, nudging her entrance with the tip of his cock.

A loud moan caused by the sudden stretch and pain filled the air as he slammed himself to the hilt, not able to wait any longer. His hand immediately covered her mouth, two fingers shoved into her mouth to keep her quiet. "The least you can do is fucking take it" He growled into her ear, thrusting impatiently into her tight heat, feeling the wetness pooling from her entrance at his rough manhandling. "That's what you're fucking made for!" She moaned loudly, feeling the bitter metallic taste on his fingers, filling her mouth and making it hard to breathe which made her keep squirming.

Thomas laid himself over her, fucking her from the back, putting his complete weight on top of her.

"You feel it? The fucking taste?" He growled, pulling her hair with another hand. "It's a taste of your safety." His voice was different, clearly because of the chaotic situation he's been through just a couple minutes earlier. Y/N had no idea what was turning her on so much, whether it was the danger to this whole situation, or maybe him fucking her so roughly. "Answer me!" He roared, plunging even deeper than before, his tip kissing her cervix really hard, causing her to nod frantically. "Some cock and you're already too fucking dumb to speak, eh? Good thing your cunt 's always wet then" He added, cruelly almost, knowing how much she loved being degraded. "Nothing more needed to be my precious little fuckhole" He purred, picking up his pace, fucking her faster and harder. Whimper after whimper leaving her lips before he pulled his fingers out of her mouth and wrapped them around her throat.

"Shhhh" He cooed, "You don't want to wake up the kids, do you?" He emphasized the last two words with painful deep thrusts, making her feel like he was already in her belly.

"Tommy" She managed to stutter out, holding onto his hand which was squeezing her pretty hard, cutting off the blood flow and causing her eyesight to go blurry.

"I feel you squeezing my fucking cock. You like that, eh? Being fucked, covered in blood and treated like a cheap whore." He groaned by her ear, the free hand reaching underneath to pinch her clit and rub brutal circles, causing her to cry out weakly. "Nasty fucking cunt" He purred as she came around him so hard, before completely going limp on top of her. Pressing her into the mattress as his thrusts grew frantic, deeper and slower while her cunt milked him for all he had.

Only then did he let go of her throat, slowly threading his fingers through her hair, as they both tried to catch their breaths.

Tommy lifted his head up, seeing her so beautifully fucked out and smiled. Kissing the side of her face, he murmured.

"We need a cleaning service in the kitchen... and a new cook."

lay down my body | raymond leon x reader

summary | after a disastrous event, you find your favorite timekeeper at your door. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, light degradation, sort of toxic dynamic, power imbalance, dirty talk, oral (female receiving). word count | 2k+ a/n | not beta'd because i just wanted to write something because i haven't in a hot minute.

Raymond brackets your face between his hands, his eyes glacial, his lips pressed into an unimpressed line of dissatisfaction as he examines you. An ugly surge of desire forms in your lower belly as his calloused fingers brush against the bruised skin around your eye.

“Stupid girl,” he admonishes. The warm timbre of his voice draws a lick of want through your aching body, mean as it is. You grab onto his wrists, pushing them away from your face.

“I told you not to come tonight,” you say.

“I come when I please,” he says, indignant.

Tuesday night found you desperate, fighting as you never had before while the minutes on your arm dwindled down to seconds. An angry part of you wants to punish Raymond, to look at him with your bruised flesh and say, “What was I supposed to do, wait for you?” but you’re half afraid he’ll say something infinitely more unkind. He does that sometimes: punishes your cruelty with a form of violence you hadn’t known existed until you started to care for him. He has spent too long not looking after anyone but himself, so it is a self-preserving form of affection he administers.

This man doesn’t seem to know the totality of borrowed time—not with the way he turns your head in his hands again, looking over bits of you he’s already seen. You try not to tell him he’s wasting time, but it’s hard—you feel the full measure of a minute every time it goes by, and hate to spend it like this.

“I worked harder last week so I could have this night off,” you grumble, despite yourself. You push his hands away from you again, this time more firmly.

His jaw tenses. The irritation has begun to set in the crevices of his wearied soul.

“You don’t want me to go and I suggest you stop pretending you do. I might just do it, and then you’ll have a lot more than some common thug on the street to worry about.”

He nudges your arm pathetically, the green clock slowly ticking away on it. You despise the way he holds his favors over you. No matter how snug he’s got you under his thumb, he won’t ever receive your blind submission. In a flare of anger, you knock past him and head to the none too lavish bed. Bending over it, you look back to him expectantly.

“What are you doing?” he says.

You raise an eyebrow - a daring challenge. “Thought I better give you what you want before—“

Raymond rushes across the room like he’s forgotten the luxury of his long, sure minutes. Taking your arm in his hand, he tugs you upward with the sheer force of his anger. His fingers grip onto your chin; you watch as a dangerous fire alights within him. “Better not do that, kitten,” he huffs, voice steady even despite the evident anger etched in his features. He presses your body into his own, the grip on your arm beginning to ache.

“You’re hurting me,” you tell him softly.

He loosens his hold on you, but not his vitriol. “If you want to be fucked like a common whore, just ask for it. No need to suggest that I’m some kind of…creep when you know I’m angry because I—“

His words trail off, all that meaning floating in the air between you. Because I care. To him, that’s more dangerous than stolen time.

You soften, putting your hand on top of his. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“Who says I do? You’re nothing to me. Not really,” he responds coolly.

You run your tongue over your teeth, observing him, watching the carefully designed face of neutrality staring back at you. His indifference is a cruelty.

“We’re running out of time,” you remind.

He looks down at your arm. Two minutes. With lips pursued, he looks back at your eyes. You see the wheels turning in his head, all that careful calculating. Of all the things he is, and he is many, clever was not what you expected. But he is clever. You wish he would use it for better.

“You think I make you earn your life,” he enunciates, a tinny quality infecting his voice, “so earn it.”

There’s a sick pleasure that you derive from the lack of emotion in his eyes. You want him so badly it confuses you. There’s an ugly thing that exists inside of you and it wants, wants, wants him. He feeds it. It’s the same thing that makes you bend back over the bed, fingers gripping the comforter, your ass high. Beneath your dress, you wear a flimsy excuse for underwear.

You feel the bulk of him behind you. He smells of leather and sandalwood. If you close your eyes, you can remember what desire looks like on him. There’s heat in your belly that doesn’t simmer as you listen to him take a step closer.

He leans over and knocks your hands from beneath you, forcing you to lie on the bed. The cool of his leather ensemble against the warmth of your skin is an enthralling contrast. “Keep your wrist down,” he demands, voice low and sultry. “We’re gonna play a game, whore.”

Whore. The word causes a confusing pool of desire to gather between your legs. You want to punch him in the mouth. He’s never called you that before. But you like how the grit of the word sounded in his throat. You like how he takes charge. You always have. Every desperate person wants a God, and there’s something comforting about the way he tells you to kneel at his altar.

With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your cheap makeup rubbing off on the shoddy comforter, you await his next move like a prisoner awaits death. Anticipation courses through you as you listen to the sound of his voice, the rustle of his movements, feeling the ghost of him against you as he plots your demise.

“I’ll give you your beloved time, baby,” he coos, his fingers resting on your hips. They squeeze at your flesh there greedily, a warning for what is to come. His nose brushes against your neck, his breath hot against you as he says, “But you’re going to have to cum first. Not a second before. I think you can do that, can’t you? Because despite your pissy attitude, I know just how wet you get for me. And there’s the matter of life and death too. Everyone’s a whore when it comes down to seconds.”

He presses his lips to the back of your neck, moving down your body gradually. Eventually, you feel the ghost of his breath on your nearly exposed ass. Raymond wastes no time drawing up your dress.

“Spread your legs further,” he instructs. You do, eyebrows drawing together as his fingers grope at the flesh of your ass. There are angry imprints no doubt forming as he hums in delight.

“You’re just as wet as I thought you’d be.” His finger ghost downwards, rubbing over your clothed cunt. You can feel the desire that coats your underwear as he presses down. If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be humiliated by the way your body wants him.

Pulling aside the fabric of your flimsy underwear, he presses open mouthed kisses on your ass cheeks. His teeth glide dangerously across the skin too, until he reaches your cunt; when he reaches there, he dives in, his tongue plunging in the warmth of you while two of his fingers rub against your clit.

This is new, and would hardly be a punishment at all if not for the fact that your clock is running out and you can’t see it. Raymond eats at you like a man starved, the slick of his salvia lubricating you better than your own want. He moves his fingers furiously, grunting into you when you dare to push back into him for more.

“Stay still,” he demands gruffly, taking his mouth off of you. You comply, hard as it is to do when he’s touching you like this. “I know you’re close, baby. You’re gonna come on my tongue, aren’t you? Like the good little whore you are for me?”

His tongue swipes through your folds again, lapping up your combined fluids as his fingers press down with more intent on your clit. You fight with everything in you not to move. Your grip on the bedspread tightens and you huff quietly into the mattress, the tension boiling up inside of you. He could split you open right now and you’d thank him for it.

“Ray—” you moan. His nose edges against your cunt as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking obscenely. You can’t stop the way the orgasm takes you, nor do you want to; it’s overwhelming, a thing that happens all through you. Every sense is heightened. When he moans against your cunt, you nearly shatter against him.

He yanks you down quickly, pulling your limp body back on top of him. Before you’ve got time to figure out what he’s doing, he’s flipping over your arm. The green fluorescent numbers tick away. 55 seconds. 54 seconds. He sheds his leather jacket, exposing his forearm. You close your eyes when he holds it over yours. He cradles your jaw with his other hand, an oddly intimate act.

When he moves his arm off of you, you open your eyes. You don’t look at how much time he’s gifted you, but at him. His face of neutrality is all broken up before you, lips smooth with your slick, cheeks red from his own want. Even his eyes betray him as they glance down at you.

You’ve frightened each other. It's intoxicating. You feel the thrum of your heart beating against your chest. He struggles to catch his breath.

Raymond presses his lips to yours in a furious kiss. His hand tilts your head for easier access, and you push up, moving yourself further up his body.

“Not so tough now,” he growls. His fingers pinch at your chin.

You lick your lips, which now taste of you, rolling your eyes up at him. “Doesn’t seem like you are either.”

He grunts in displeasure, running his calloused thumb lightly against your wet lip. “You just want to be fucked dumb, don’t you?”

You turn your wrist. 2 days he’s given you, which is about 24 hours more than usual. The hunger for him makes you ravenous as you consider what he’s just said to you. You ignore it in favor of something more substantial: asking why.

“You don’t usually carry that much time with you.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “One of my little birdies told me about what happened to you.”

“So, what—you gave me some more time to be robbed of as a solution?”

He shakes his head, slightly annoyed. “No. I gave you more time so I could keep you here and show you how and where you should be spending it.” His fingers dip below the collar of your dress. “Stop being a fucking brat.”

“I never liked being told what to do,” you murmur as his thumb skirts over your nipple. He watches your eyes grow heavy as he swirls his finger over it.

“And yet,” he smirks, nodding down to your body.

You mirror his smirk, knowing he’s right. Even if you’ve got something of a paltry life, things like this can still happen, and that’s something, isn’t it? Knowing that things - people - like him, even in all the cruelty, can still rescue you.

Your fingers reach up and run over the pout of his lips. As your eyes search each other’s, you come to a silent agreement: a pledge to care. It’s a stupid, foolish flash of sentimentality you see before it’s masked again by your own respective desires and lust.

It’s almost as good as the time he’s given you—almost as good as all the time he could ever give you.

thanks for the update! I understand life gets in the way, take care you are the sweetest 💞

Thank you so much, I appreciate it greatly. I'll write another part today or tomorrow xx

That feeling when your favorite writter still aint post the next chapter...

Im jp yall, i just be talking shit lol

Y'all guys stay TUNED because next Taste of shame will be NASTY and Tommy's a horrible person in it😇😇

Me writing the next part btw: