Thomas Brodie Sangster Imagines Dirty Novels & Stories

Each word landed like a physical blow, carving pieces out of me that I didn't know I still had left to lose. "I would rather cut off my own hands than have them anywhere near your disgusting body," he continued, his voice so calm and matter-of-fact that it was somehow worse than shouting. "I would rather gouge out my own eyes than have to look at you naked. The thought of touching you, of putting my hands on all that fat and feeling it under my fingers? It makes me physically sick, Eva. Like genuinely nauseous." "Why?" I whispered, tears streaming down my face now, hot and shameful and impossible to stop. "What have I ever done to you to deserve you ruining me like this? Grayson?”

It wasn’t working. “I’m actually going to die,” Sloane said suddenly. She was lying about three feet away from me. Her blonde hair was a matted, damp mess stuck to her forehead and the back of her neck. She was wearing an oversized gray t-shirt that was currently translucent with sweat, clinging to her shoulders in patches. “You’re not going to die,” I muttered, though I felt like I might. “You’re just being dramatic.” “Cora, look at me. I’m melting. I am literally a puddle.” She sat up suddenly, the movement making the floorboards creak. She gripped the hem of her shirt, her knuckles white. “I can’t do this. I’m taking it off.”

The entire room was a mess. Standing a distance away from her was her housekeeper, Matilda. The woman looked tired and sleepy, she had been cleaning the entire house since the day news got to her boss that Sarah Waves was getting married to Ron Diego. It was not because the house was dirty but because her boss kept breaking and tearing things apart out of rage and she was left to clean the mess the woman makes.

Thomas gave a lazy salute, both arms on full display—ink from wrist to shoulder, bold lines and dark florals that looked like they might move if he did. “And that’s Brody,” Teddy continued, nodding toward the redhead beside him. Brody was all freckles and charm, a mess of curls and a crooked grin that said he knew exactly how adorable he was. “I’m on bass. I provide the heart and the hips.” Just then, the door behind me swung open again. Ophelia stepped out, phone still in hand, frowning down at her screen. “Ugh,” she muttered. “He’s the devil in a Patagonia vest. I swear—oh.” Her gaze lifted, locking on Teddy first, then trailing to Thomas and Brody behind him. “Whoa.”

He leaned in to my ear, his hot breath bringing the twisted fantasies I buried back to the surface. I gasped, not from the lack of air he was restricting from me, but from the electric shocks his fingers sent through my body. "Tell me why I shouldn't snap your neck from your body, Summer. Play with fire next time and watch it consume you. I can murder you, and no one will know I did. Now get your ass back in the car."

“I know you have been following me for the last few weeks trying to jam me up. I am not a dirty cop. Have you found anything?” Justin shook his head no. “Well now tell the truth, what have you found? Any extra money in my accounts? No? Well, any drugs? No? I didn’t think so.” Taunted Thomas as he let Justin go. Thomas walked into the middle of the room turning his back toward Megan and began moving his hands in a practiced pattern. Around Thomas, the air became thinner, and the small candles moved with ease as they changed places. Justin watched as the blanket that had been thrown across the couch began to fold itself.

Give her a mountain of junk food and she would never have placed a bet on Thomas being affiliated with the underworld in any form, talkless being the notorious Don of the underworld. That means- Her eyes reddened and spilled with rage at the thought of Thomas being involved in the whole mess surrounding the birth and separation of the twins. Thomas walked further into the room, bus penetrating gaze surveyed the mess and his nose scrunched up in disgust. “Clean this place up.” He yelled at one of the attendants beside him. “Y-yes sir.” The employee ran out to get help to remove the dead men and clean the blood and vomits. Within mere minutes, help came, the room was restored to normal as if d

“So you never forget what you did to your wife. What you made her become.” Thomas takes his turn last. He’s been waiting all night. Filming. Watching. Stroking himself to the sight of me being passed around like a party favour. Now he pins me against the wall and fucks me standing up. Lifts me like I weigh nothing. Bounces me on his cock while the others watch and Derek cries in his chair. “You love this,” Thomas whispers in my ear. Quiet. Private. Just for me. “I can tell. This isn’t just revenge. This isn’t just spite. You love being used like this.”

She was still a little puffy and sensitive from last night, but so fucking wet that my fingers made obscene squelching noises as I pumped them deep. “Oh shit—Leo!” she gasped against my lips, her hips bucking wildly, riding my hand. Her juices ran down my wrist. “You’re such a dirty little slut,” I growled, curling my fingers to rub that spongy spot inside her while my thumb attacked her swollen clit. “My own stepsister getting finger-fucked in a closet because she can’t stay away from my cock.”

“No one’s going to—” “I almost got raped!” The realization hit me like acid. Disgust crawled over my skin. A sob tore from my throat. “I feel… dirty. I need to get it off me. I need to get this skin off!” My nails scraped at my arms, burning, but Damien caught my hands before I could go too far. “Hailey! Calm down!” He pulled me closer, steadying me, wrapping one arm around my back, holding me tight. “You don’t get it, Damien! He covered me in his filth!” I screamed, louder than I’d meant to. “You will never understand! I need to get this off me! It’ll never go away! It doesn’t go away! It never does!”