#tommy shelby x m!reader
Text
My policeman | m!reader
Date: 06.12.2022
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x m!reader
Reader’s pronouns: he/him
Words: 4.840
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Characters: m!reader, Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray, Ada Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Esme Shelby, Harry Fenton, others
Genre: Romance
Length: Oneshot
Warnings: Angst with a happy ending
Requested: No
Prompts: No
Summary: Tommy Shelby is suddenly very interested in you and you have no idea why.
A/N: English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistake, and I would love to know what you think about it. If you like my works, please like and reblog them. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I posted a List of prompts, so check it out! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my works.
IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM
Masterlist
Ao3
You were on patrol around the city with one of your colleagues. You knew he was on the Peaky Blinders' payroll but, after all, only a handful of policemen weren't. You were one of them. It was confusing to most people in Small Heath, mainly because they knew you were John Shelby's best friend. He had offered you money to give them information and turn a blind eye to their affairs as they did with everyone, but you had made it clear that you couldn't be bought. He had respected that. The balance was fragile. The whole deal was based on your friendship. You had been able to refuse the money without losing your job because you were friends and people respected you because of your bond to the most powerful family in Birmingham, and a little because you did your job and wouldn't hesitate to throw people in jail if needed. You didn't pretend not to see what happened around you. Not even if the Peaky Blinders were involved. However, being friends with John also prevented you from trying to tear the whole business down. Everyone had learnt it pretty soon, so they had just started doing their things when you weren't on patrol, which meant your rounds were always quiet. You didn't complain. You didn't like arresting people, especially if they were Blinders.
That day seemed to be especially quiet. Well, as quiet as Small Heath could be. Your eyes observed the people going on about their lives around you while you chatted with your colleague. Many people greeted you, and you smiled back.
You turned to your partner, your eyes wide and a big smile on your face. "What?! No way. What is this, your... seventh?"
"Yeah," he replied smiling proudly under his thick moustache. "Four girls and two boys. I'm rooting for another boy."
"Congrats!" You patted his back, but you saw his face change, suddenly becoming serious.
He looked up and touched his cap, tilting his head down. "Morning, Mr Shelby."
You turned and saw Thomas Shelby on one of his horses, riding down the road. You nodded towards him as a form of greeting but didn't touch your cap or wish him a good day.
He nodded back at you, and you felt his icy blue eyes pierce through you. It wasn't anything new. You felt that way every time he looked at you and you wondered if everyone could feel it when they were under his gaze as if he could see everything that was inside. It felt as if God was scrutinizing you. You did understand why John called him Tommy the Almighty.
Even as he passed by you, you could still feel his eyes burn holes in you. You kept walking but turned to look at him and saw he was already looking. You turned back to the front.
"I don't know how you can refuse their offer. By the way he was looking at you, he really wants you on his payroll."
When you walked into the Garrison that night and asked Harry for a glass of whiskey, he refused your money and said it had already been paid for, then nodded towards the private room next to the counter.
"Yeah, well, John knows it won't happen." You shrugged, but the feeling of his eyes on you lingered and stayed with you for the rest of the day.
"Mr Shelby wishes to speak with you."
You rolled your eyes at the formality John liked to mess with when you were involved and grabbed your glass heading to the room.
"Come on, John, how many tim-" you started as you opened the door only to stop mid-sentence when you met Tommy's icy gaze instead of John's warm and playful one. "Thomas."
He was smoking alone, a glass of whiskey in front of him.
He beckoned you with a motion of his fingers. "Close the door and take a sit."
Your eyebrows raised, unimpressed by how he was treating you like one of his men. Maybe he had forgotten you didn't work for him.
"If you want to buy me, Thomas, you can save it. I'm not on sale," you said without doing any of the things he had asked of you.
He observed you for a few long seconds as if trying to read you. Then he sighed, tearing his gaze away from you and knocking the ash of his cigarette into the ashtray. "That's not why I wanted to talk to you."
When you still didn't move, he turned towards you again. "I promise. Please, come sit with me."
You hid your surprise at hearing him saying the word "please." You didn't think he even knew how to pronounce it for lack of use. You closed the door behind you and took a sit on the other side of the table from him.
You rolled the whiskey in your glass waiting for him to speak. "What did you want to talk about?" you asked when he didn't.
He offered you a cigarette but you refused. You didn't trust him outside family gatherings and that wasn't a social call.
"I would like to invite you to dinner."
You frowned. You had already been to dinner at the Shelbys plenty of times and not once had Thomas himself been the one to invite you. "Uhm... sure, tell Polly to count me in."
"I mean with me."
His reply startled a laugh out of you. "I never thought you were one for pranks. Thought you left that to Johnny."
He stared at you, his expression unchanged. There was no trace of a smile on his face. "I'm serious."
You looked back at him with a newfound seriousness and slammed your glass on the table, spilling some of its content. "I really hope not."
It was your turn to observe him, trying to understand what his real intentions were. "What do you really want from me, Thomas?"
"I want to take you out for dinner."
You snorted. "You think I'm a fool?"
"No," he let out much lower than his usual tone.
"You can't buy me so you're trying to get me arrested. That's too low even for you."
He shook his head. "That's not-"
"Save your bullshit," you interrupted getting up. You leaned forward pointing a finger at him. "You try this shit again and I'll get you arrested."
You were smoking with John by the cut like you did when you were fifteen. You loved the fact that your friendship hadn't changed all that much, not after you had been to war together, nor when you had decided to join the police. With John, it had always been easy. No judgement, just two boys having fun and doing what they had to live in such a hard world.
Then you walked out.
"So, new girls?" he joked.
You looked at him unimpressed, before looking back in front of you.
John was the only person who knew you didn't like girls. You had found out thanks to him. When you were young, you had experimented with each other. There had been some kisses and a couple of hand jobs. He had soon understood he wasn't into men, but he had never judged you. To these days he still joked about it and you had never really minded until Thomas had asked you out.
"Did you tell him?"
He abruptly turned to look at you. "You know I would never."
"Then how the fuck did he know, John?" you asked, throwing your unfinished cigarette into the cut, clearly upset.
"Tommy, he always seems to know shit," he said slowly, playing with his cap and looking down at it in his lap. He looked at you. "But he means good. He isn't trying to fuck you up."
You snorted. You trusted John and you were sure he believed what he was saying, but Thomas was cunning and he could have people believe anything he wanted. Maybe he had tricked his own brother into believing he really was interested in you, knowing he would have put a good word in for him.
"Are you still coming to dinner tomorrow though?"
You had been a guest of the Shelbys every Saturday for dinner for as long as you could remember.
"Will he be there?"
"Probably."
You groaned.
"Come on. You won't even have to talk to him. How many times have you two talked at dinner?"
You frowned. "Probably more than you would expect."
Now that you thought of it, Tommy had always found a way to exchange a few words with you after dinner about the most random topics. You had always enjoyed those moments. Talking with him was nice. He didn't smile a lot, not like before the war, but he had always been kind to you. You had always thought he did that just for John's sake, so you had never considered him a friend or anything. In addition to that, the huge crush you had had on him had made it hard to be as comfortable with him as you were with the rest of the family. You had completely overcome that now, though. Still, the awkwardness was hard to shake off.
John bumped his shoulders into yours, bringing you back to the present. "The kids will be a pain if you don't come."
You rolled your eyes. "Fine."
When you stepped into the Shelbys' household the following evening, you got surrounded by John's kids. They either hugged you, pulled you somewhere, or screamed at you about their day. You loved them, but they could be a lot. Finally, Ada came to save you, and you smiled gratefully at her. She hugged you and invited you to follow her to the kitchen where all the others were. Tommy was missing, and you felt relief flooding you. You hadn't even finished greeting everyone when the front door opened. Little Finn ran to welcome the newcomer. You held your breath and your eyes found John's on the other side of the room. He looked guilty. You frowned, but before you could take him aside to ask what he had done, Tommy walked into the kitchen with Finn in his arms. When you turned towards him, he was already looking at you and you couldn't bring yourself to utter a word in greeting. Your lips stayed still.
John grinned triumphantly.
"Let's sit and eat," Polly said, setting the pot in the centre of the table.
While she served, everyone took a seat, and somehow you found yourself next to Tommy. John had taken the seat that was usually reserved for you and you had to take his. Now you understood the look you had seen in his eyes earlier. You would punch him later.
"Not exactly what I had in mind, but it's something." Tommy's murmur was drowned by the others chatting and you would have missed it too if you hadn't been so close to him.
You pretended you hadn't heard and instead thanked Polly for filling your plate.
For the whole dinner, you did everything you could to forget Thomas was there. You chatted with everyone, complimented Polly for her cooking, asked Esme how she could be so patient with all those troublemakers around, glared at John multiple times, joked with the kids, even taking one of them on your lap when he wanted to show you the small gap in his smile left by the tooth he had lost a couple of days earlier.
Tommy stayed silent for the most part, as usual. He commented on a thing here or there and messed with the kids for a little fun. You could always feel his gaze on you. His eyes might have been the colour of ice, but sure as hell, you could feel them burn on your skin. He saw to it so that your glass was never empty, and even if you remembered distinctly rejecting him that day at the Garrison, it seemed like he hadn't gotten the memo, although he had probably just decided to ignore it because Tommy Shelby only ever played by his rules.
After dinner, the children went off somewhere to play while Polly and Esme washed the dishes. Ada had excused herself saying she was tired and she would go to bed early, but you were pretty sure she would climb out of the window to go see Freddy. Arthur took out a bottle of rum and filled four glasses.
"I should go, actually," you announced, getting up.
"No way!"
"Oh come on, you can stay for a nightcap."
John, who was now sitting next to you, pulled on your arm and you sat back down with a sigh. Arthur grinned and a small, pleased smile appeared on Tommy's face. You wanted to slap it away. Instead, you glared at him and grabbed his cigarette case to take one in retaliation. It only caused his smile to grow.
You put the cigarette between your lips and scowled at him when he leaned in touching the end of your cigarette with his to light it up. You hated how your heart skipped a beat and blood rushed to your cheeks. You inhaled and pulled back quickly, missing the looks Arthur and John had exchanged seconds earlier.
You exhaled the smoke and quickly downed your glass, making John snort. You pushed the glass towards Arthur, silently asking for a refill. He chuckled and shook his head but poured you another glass. Tommy was looking at the whole thing with an amused glint in his eyes. Once again you did your best to ignore him.
"Seeing a girl tonight? Is that why you're in a hurry?" Arthur teased.
You felt Tommy tense next to you, but you couldn't be sure and you didn't dare turn to look at him, not wanting to give yourself away.
You waved a hand. "I'm leaving them all to you, Arthur."
That made him laugh. "That's wise."
"You should have it easy now that Johnny is taken," you commented. Then you turned towards Tommy. "What about you, Thomas? I bet you have all the girls falling for you. What is it? Nobody is good enough for the great Thomas Shelby?" you teased.
"You're the only person who calls him that," John commented amusedly.
"And aunt Pol when she's angry," Arthur added.
Tommy stared at you seriously.
When you had given up on waiting for a reply and went to take a sip of your rum, Tommy finally spoke. "I already have my eyes on someone," he said quietly.
You choked on the rum and coughed. John patted your back. "You alright?"
You nodded and pulled at the collar of your shirt, although it didn't really do anything to help your situation. You did your best to compose yourself while Tommy tried to hide a small amused smile behind his cigarette.
"So, who's the lucky girl?" you asked when you finally managed to breathe again.
Arthur's boisterous laugh filled the room. "That would be some change."
Tommy paid him no mind and kept his glacial eyes on you. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Both his reply and Arthur's comment confused you. Before you could inquire further, you heard John's glass clink on the table, soon followed by Arthur's. Your eyes snapped to them as they got up.
"We're headin' to the Garrison. Are you coming?" Arthur asked.
"Uh... no. I should really go. I have work tomorrow."
John patted your back. "See you tomorrow?"
You nodded and they left. The last conversation had made you forget about John's guilty look at the beginning of the night.
You suddenly realized they had left you alone with Tommy. You cleared your throat and put out your cigarette into the ashtray, then downed the rest of your rum.
"I should really go."
You got up, but so did Tommy. He killed his cigarette. "I'll show you to the door."
You nodded stiffly and walked to the door. When you stopped at the hanger to get your coat, you found him closer than expected and your heart picked up.
"You like horses, don't you?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets. You hated how cool he was about everything.
You nodded.
"You should come to the races once."
"Have you forgotten I go there for work sometimes?"
"Not for work."
Not again.
"It's not something I enjoy watching," you said shortly, then opened the door, anxious to leave that hallway that had never looked so small in your whole life.
"You might change your mind."
"I don't think I will," you insisted dryly, looking at him in the eyes, hoping he would get the message that you were talking about the whole situation.
You were doing everything you could to avoid Tommy, and it was not working. On the contrary, he was everywhere. He would pass by your house every time you were leaving for work and he would offer to walk or drive you there. You refused every time. You would meet him as you were walking by the cut. You would see him at a pub he had never frequented before. You even saw him at the market a couple of times. When you saw him in church you thought you were hallucinating. It seemed like the universe was working against you, but it was only Tommy Shelby, and maybe his family.
You opened the door and he held it open for you. "It's not a no."
You were surprised to find a little box on your desk at work on Monday. You looked around to see if any of your colleagues had noticed anything. They seemed to be minding their business as usual. You returned your attention to the box and opened it. A precious pocket watch was laid there, with a piece of paper. You picked up the note. You didn't recognize the handwriting. It read "counting the seconds to the moment you'll accept my offer."
John always found a way to mention him. He had never talked about Tommy as much as he had in the last few weeks. You pretended not to notice. You hoped Tommy would just give up at some point. How wrong you were.
You crushed the note in your fist and rolled your eyes, closing the box vehemently and shoving it in the only drawer in your desk that had a key. You locked it up. You thought you would deal with that later, but it was a busy day and you forgot until the next morning when something else was waiting for you on your desk.
It was your favourite book from when you were a kid. It was about horses. They were your favourite animals and obviously, Tommy somehow knew. You opened it and on the first page, with the same handwriting from yesterday's note, there was written "I think you'd really like to meet my horses. Think about it."
That evening you went to the Shelbys, hoping to find Tommy and give him back his presents. When Ada opened the door, you walked past her hastily.
You heard one of your colleagues calling you, so you quickly closed the book and threw it into the drawer where you had left the watch.
"Where is Thomas?" you asked looking for him around the house, startling the others, confused by your manners so out of character.
"He isn't back yet," Ada said, closing the door to follow you into the kitchen.
You let yourself fall down into a chair with a groan and discarded your hat on the table.
"Hello to you too," Polly piped up.
"Hi Pol, I'm sorry, but your nephew is trying to ruin me."
"Tommy?" Esme asked frowning. She wasn't a fan of him, but she was quite sure he would never do anything to ruin you.
"What are you talking about?" Polly asked taking a seat next to you.
"He is just being over dramatic." John waved a hand. You glared at him.
"Let him talk." Ada slapped his arm, making him roll his eyes. "What did Tommy do?"
You suddenly sobered up. You couldn't tell them. They wouldn't approve. You shook your head and got up. "It's nothing. I should just talk to him. I'm sure we can fix this."
"Where are you going? Stay for dinner." Polly stopped you gently.
Before you could refuse and leave, someone knocked.
Ada went to open the door.
"Hello, Ada." Thomas.
Ada was already telling him you were there looking for him when you walked up to him, hat in hand. He smiled smugly at you.
"Thought you would last longer," he commented.
You just looked at him as if you wanted to kill him.
Ada's eyes moved between the two of you.
"Would you mind leaving us, Ada?" Tommy asked, without taking his eyes away from you.
She rolled her eyes but did as she had been asked.
Once she was gone, you pulled the gifts out of your coat and shoved them into Tommy's chest. "You can take these back and leave me alone."
His hand raised slowly to take a hold of the items and he glanced down at them. "You didn't like them?"
"That's not the point. Stop fucking trying to ruin me. If I'm such a huge problem for you, why don't you pay my superior to transfer me somewhere else? Do you really hate me so much just because I'm not on your fucking payroll?"
He shook his head. "I'm not trying to ruin you."
"Really? Because sending me gifts at work tells me otherwise."
"I really am into you."
You scoffed. "Sure."
"What do I have to do to make you believe me?" his voice, quiet as usual, seemed to fill the entire house. Only then you realized the chatter that previously came from the kitchen had stopped. You glanced that way, then looked back at Tommy.
You lowered your voice. "If you care for me, stop this."
For the first time since you knew him, Tommy looked like he didn't know what to say.
You didn't wait for a reply. You just headed to the door, stopping in your tracks when Polly's voice came from the kitchen. "You're not staying for dinner?"
It was clear the others had listened in on your conversation.
You sighed. "Maybe next time."
You opened the door and stepped outside, putting your hat on.
Polly's interjection had given Tommy enough time to come up with something to say.
"Just give me one chance," he said quickly before you could leave. "We can go out of the city with the horses tomorrow afternoon. Nobody will see us. If after that you still want me to leave you alone, I will."
You turned to look at him and you hated yourself for being so weak.
The following day was nerve-wracking. No matter how you tried to distract yourself, you couldn't stop thinking about the date. The anxiety was eating at you. Part of you didn't want that afternoon to arrive, and another part was looking forward to it.
"One chance. Then you will leave me alone."
Time would not stop flowing for your sake, and soon you were making your way to meet with him out of the city. You asked the driver to drop you off way before the meeting point and walked the rest of the way.
Tommy was waiting for you with two horses. He smiled when he saw you, and you didn't know if it was knowing that this was the last chance you had given him or if that was actually the most genuine and happiest smile you had ever seen on his lips.
You smiled back. It was a very different smile from his. It was small and it had a hint of sadness to it. You wished this was real, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it.
Without a word you got on the horses and guided them through the countryside. Sometimes Tommy would stop to show you something. He told you about his love for the countryside and that he would love to live there one day. He liked the idea of being surrounded by green fields and animals, especially horses, a passion the two of you shared. When you asked why he was so in love with the countryside, he explained that it made him feel closer to his mother. That was where her people lived and where she had grown up.
You hadn't realized, but at some point, you had relaxed. You and Tommy talked, joked, laughed and raced each other. Before you noticed the sun was setting. Tommy suggested you stopped to enjoy the view before heading back.
You got off the horses and sat down on the grass. You stayed silent for a while, simply admiring the colours of the sky. When you turned to look at Tommy, he was already watching you. You stared at each other for a few long moments before he cleared his voice and looked away.
"What's the verdict, then?" he finally asked, not looking at you.
"I had a good time with you," you admitted easily.
"But?"
"Is this really what you want? This life is... not great. So if you ever liked a girl in your life I suggest you go back to her and give it one more try."
"It's always been you and I know you are scared, but I sincerely don't give a fuck if you are a policeman or if you aren't on my payroll. We made arrangements to do our things when you're not on patrol just so you wouldn't have to arrest any of us. It wasn't much trouble. You are important to me, to all of us. I would never do anything to hurt you."
Your brain had gotten stuck on the first few words. "Always?"
"What?"
"You said it's always been me."
"Yes."
"Then why now?"
"Because I found out only recently that you like boys."
You frowned. "How did you find out?"
"I saw you with a man one night, in the alley behind the Garrison," he admitted.
"Oh... Right. So John didn't tell you."
"No, not a word. He would rather cut his own arm off than betray you."
"I know," you replied relaxing.
"But you thought he had told me."
"Maybe he had mentioned when he was drunk." You shrugged.
"I promise he didn't."
You nodded.
"I've had a crush on you for a while too," you said, still looking at him. You had long forgotten about the sunset. How could you look at something as trivial as the sun when you had Tommy Shelby right beside you?
"Yes?" he asked, hopeful.
You smiled and nodded. "It's impossible not falling for you."
He leaned closer but stopped a few inches away from your face. "I really want to kiss you right now."
"Fucking finally Tommy, dinner was getting cold," Polly's voice came from the kitchen as you followed him inside the house that night.
"What are you waiting for, then?" was all that came out of your lips before they met his.
"Sorry Pol," he replied taking little Finn in his arms and putting his cap on his youngest brother.
He reached for your hand with his free one after you had hung your coat. You took it, although nervously. He had assured you that his whole family knew about him and that they would accept you but after a lifetime of being careful about everything you did and said, you couldn't just stop.
Tommy kissed your temple, hoping that would help your nerves.
You smiled at him, then winked at Finn who grinned back.
Tommy led you to the kitchen. "We have a guest," he announced. Everyone turned to look at you, and your grip tightened on Tommy's hand. They all seemed surprised.
"But it's not S-" Arthur was cut off by John shoving his elbow into his brother's ribs.
That seemed enough to shake Polly out of her surprise. "Of course!" She hugged you smiling. "You're always welcome."
You felt your nervousness melt away and hugged her back. "Thanks, Pol."
She pulled back and turned to her nephew, pointing a finger at him. "If you hurt him, Thomas Shelby, I'll make you pay for it."
"What?! Why are you telling me?" he asked putting Finn down.
"Well, because he would never do anything bad," she replied without even thinking about it.
"Wait, aunt Pol. He is my best friend, I should be the one to give Tommy the talk."
Tommy shook his head. "This is absurd."
"Come on, I'm sure he is more than capable to look after himself."
You nodded quickly, agreeing with Ada.
"And I'm sure Tommy won't do anything he might regret unless he wants to have the whole family against him," she added crossing her arms and glaring at him.
You sighed and turned to look at Tommy. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from them."
Tags: @one-green-frog
#spettrocoli writes#tommy shelby x male reader#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x m!reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#peaky fookin blinders#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky fucking blinders#thomas shelby x male reader#reader insert#aunt polly#polly shelby#polly gray#john shelby#ada shelby#arthur shelby#esme shelby#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders one shot#bbc#bbc peaky blinders#peaky blinder imagine#male reader#cillian murphy
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there is something to being tommy's girlfriend/wife. Like all the opportunities to get called "good girl" "princess" "pretty wife" "pretty whore" things like that. there is something to letting him buy you pretty dresses and feminine things so he can show you off, BUT. BUT. HEAR ME OUT
There is something to being Tommy's secret boyfriend. Like he is in a fake relationship with Lizzie so she can get more contacts and he had a cover for being straight. Imagine the nights spent of just hearing him call you "good boy" "prince" "pretty boy" "pretty whore" (whore is gender neutral y'all) Its just so 😫😫😫. Like sir. Please pull my tie off and tie my hands up with it while I'm on my knees waiting patiently for you so I can make you feel good because I am very good to my scary boyfriend <3
#tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby smut#m/m#gay#thomas shelby#peaky blinder imagine#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby x reader#bi!tommy#bisexual tommy supremacy#bisexual thomas shelby#word dump#welcome back to cal has some ~thoughts~
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Peaky Blinders Masterlist
*REQUESTS CLOSED*
The Shelby Brothers
Thomas Shelby
Arthur Shelby
John Shelby
#peaky blinders masterlist#peaky blinder imagine#arthur shelby#peaky blinder fanfic#thomas shelby#peaky blinders#john shelby#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby imagine#peaky fucking blinders#john shelby imagine#arthur shelby imagine#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x you#arthur shelby x male reader#male reader#tommy x m!reader#male x male reader#male x fem reader
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drunk confession
pairing: thomas shelby x reader
warnings: alcohol consumption, slight nsfw
summary: thomas shelby walks into your bedroom in the middle of the night and confesses his love for you.
you awoke from your slumber after hearing the door to your room suddenly open in the middle of the night.
you felt your heart pound through your chest, scared that it was one of billy kimber’s men, ordered to harm you as a way to get back at the peaky blinders.
but you needn’t fret for it was only thomas shelby.
thomas was the leader of birmingham’s renowned gang, the peaky blinders, and the second eldest son of the shelby family.
you knew him when he was a young lad. he used to be a troublemaker, always bringing trouble everywhere he went. he laughed a lot too.
you, on the other hand, used to be a loner. you didn’t have a single friend whatsoever. you were always alone, a sad look plastered on your face as you watched other kids getting along and playing with each other. young tommy felt bad for you, therefore, offered to let you play with him and his siblings. from then on, you became close and formed a bond, not only with him, but with his siblings too.
it was sad how much things have changed after the war in france.
the horrors of the war had changed him drastically.
he became a soulless, empty shell.
but there was one thing that didn’t change, and that was his feelings for you.
he always felt a sense of peace whenever you were around. you were a breath of fresh air and a reminder of his childhood days, where he hadn’t gone to the war yet, where he didn’t live a life of crime, where everything was normal.
he didn’t want to admit it, though. he was never good at expressing himself…
…until tonight.
“tommy!” you gasped. “why are you here?”
“because i can.” he said nonchalantly.
“just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” you huffed in frustration.
he shrugged.
“how did you get in my house?”
“key under your doormat.” he drawled, approaching you drunkenly.
you let out a squeak as he collapsed on your bed, nearly crushing your legs.
“okay, congratulations for knowing where i keep my house key, but that doesn’t give you the right to just barge in my house.” you looked at the clock on your wall, checking the time. “especially at three in the morning, you dimwit!”
“‘m sorry… it’s just… i’ve been thinking about you.. a lot– actually, an unhealthy amount. i couldn’t help it. i just wanted to see you again.”
“what?” you blinked.
“you heard me.”
“yes, i did, but…” that was unexpected. “what exactly do you mean by that?”
“by god, woman.” he sat up and you flinched when he started to yell. “how fucking oblivious are you? i’m in love with you, for fuck’s sake!–“
you covered his mouth, shushing him, trying to get him to calm down. you were already dealing with a drunk thomas, who barged into your home uninvited, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with noise complaints from your neighbors.
“please, quiet down, will you?”
he grabbed your wrist, prying your hand off his mouth and guiding your hand to his cheek. he closed his eyes, sighing in bliss, reveling in the warmth of your touch.
“tommy.” you muttered under your breath.
“i mean it, (y/n). i love you. i’ve loved you ever since we were kids.”
was it true?
was it really true?
well, you were aware of the saying: “drunk words are sober thoughts”
and that made your face heat up.
“i–“ you gulped, trying to build up the courage to confess, so he didn’t think it was one-sided. “–i love you too, tommy. i’ve loved you ever since you offered to let me play with you when i had no one to play with.” you moved your thumb up and down his cheekbone. “you may be a dangerous gangster to the world, but you’re just tommy to me. my tommy. you think you’ve changed, but deep inside, that innocent, kind-hearted little boy is still there.”
thomas’ lips curved up, a genuine smile on his face.
you widened your eyes.
it had been so long since he smiled in such a way that you had forgotten just how beautiful it was.
he leaned towards your face and connected your lips together. you were caught off guard, but happily obliged and kissed him back.
he tasted like a mix of cigarettes and whisky. nonetheless, it was amazing.
he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. he entwined your fingers together and with his other hand, he pulled your body against his.
he proceeded to gently place you on your back, with him on top of you, not breaking the kiss for a second.
“fuck, i love you.” he said in between kisses. “i love you so much. i’ve been dreaming about this moment my whole life.“
he roamed his hands around your body whilst you raked yours through his hair.
he pulled away just to get a quick glimpse of your messy appearance before reconnecting your lips.
he slithered a hand under your nightgown and you moaned as his fingers made contact with your clothed clit, rubbing it through your undergarment until a wet patch formed.
he moved your nightgown up to your stomach, fiddling with the elastic band of your undergarment, and yanked it off. he reached down to touch your bare pussy, inserting two fingers inside. with how wet you were, he was able to put them in with ease.
your moans were becoming louder each time he thrusted and curled his fingers against your walls, so you clasped a hand on your mouth to prevent any more noise from spilling out.
he stopped and demanded, “no, let me hear.”
“my neighbors–“
“if they even think about coming here and ruining this, i’ll fucking send them six feet under.”
he scooted backwards, placing his head in between your legs. you could feel his hot breath hitting your core and your core clenched. he darted his tongue out, licking a long stripe up your clit, before attaching his entire mouth onto it. he sucked harshly, eating you out like he was a man starved, making your eyes roll back at the insane amount of pleasure he was giving you.
your vision turned white as the coil inside of you intensified into a powerful ball of energy. and then it bursted, the ecstasy setting all your nerves ablaze.
it felt good, so so good.
he crawled back on top of you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself.
then, he pulled away once more to admire his work.
he loved the way you looked beneath him.
how swollen your lips were.
how breathless you were.
how red your cheeks were.
he loved knowing that your current appearance was caused by him and only him. rightfully so.
“all for me, eh?”
his deep, sultry voice sent shivers down your spine.
“all for you, tom.”
note: help, my unexperienced ass doesn’t fucking know how to write nsfw content. this is so bad.
#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#thomas shelby smut#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders fanfic#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#childhood friends to lovers#peaky fookin blinders#peaky blinders smut#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders one shot
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dark blue.
tommy shelby x fem!reader
summary: you're finn's girlfriend- and you've always received the same question, what's a good girl like you doing with a boy like him? funnily enough, his older brother thomas wonders the same thing.
includes: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, age-gap (tommy is in his early 40s, reader early 20s, though it isn't specified), innocence kink/corruption kink, cheating, daddy kink, oral (male rec), throat fucking, cum-eating, based on this ask here
a/n: feedback is always very much appreciated!! <3
⋆✰
“What’s a good girl like you doin’ with a boy like Finn, eh?”
It was a common saying you'd get from various people over the few months that you'd been seeing a certain Finn Shelby-- you were used to it, the constant stares of disbelief that someone like you, someone so sweet, with pretty dresses and full of radiance would want anything to do with an up-and-coming gangster.
It was love, at least that's what you told yourself.
So after hearing that certain question so many times without batting an eyelid, why did it sound so different when it came from him?
Thomas Shelby. Your boyfriend's older brother. All stoic and dressed to impress and intimidate, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like always, smoking on it without a care in the world whether he was allowed to in a house like yours or not.
He had surprised you, scared the wits out of you-- you were alone in the comfort of your bedroom, sitting at your vanity doing your nightly routine before he had shown up. You hadn't a clue how he'd gotten in, and he was smug about it, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a big indicator.
You stood up, smoothing down your nightgown when it clung to the thickness of your thighs and attempted to make eye contact and stutter out a few words.
"M-Mr Shelby," you breathed, fiddling with your hands when you clasped them in front of you. "What're you doing here?"
Tommy's eyes flicked around your room, taking note of your white walls and plush, pink duvet-- the trinkets scattered along your room all cutesy and girly. Just like you and your stupid nightgown, he thought.
"Came here to properly introduce myself," he spoke, inhaling another drag and exhaling the harsh smoke in your direction.
"But we've already met," your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side impishly and unsure. "It was the other day, don't you remember?"
"I do," he flicked his tongue over his lips to moisten them, eyes still fixated on you. "but that was far too formal, don't you think, sweetheart?"
An unusual shiver ran along your spine-- sweetheart, you liked the way it sounded, the way he said it. Finn never called you sweetheart.
You nodded, in a foggy daze, staring at him with a somewhat dumb expression on your face.
Tommy cleared his throat and you quickly shook yourself out of your strange stupor.
"Aren't y'gonna invite me to sit?" he asked, eyebrows raised, waiting. "that's what polite girls do, isn't it?"
You were quick to nod your head, pulling out your vanity chair and inviting him to sit, just like he had asked. He sat down, the contrast of his dark exterior with your pretty pink belongings had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach-- a sense that he didn't belong there, but the thrumming between your thighs was obvious that you liked him being there, amongst you, amongst your things.
He stubbed his cigarette out in a little jewellery dish that sat upon your vanity, heart-shaped and porcelain, now covered in grey, smoking ash. You knew better than to chastise him for it.
"You didn't answer my question," he muttered, clasping his hands in front of him, though differently to you, it was in confidence, to intimidate.
You thought about it. Why were you with Finn?
"W-We're in love, sir," you stuttered, not meeting his gaze, your cheeks were on fire.
"You don't look too sure about that, sweetheart," there it was again, that name, a single term going straight to your core, a surge of wetness saturating the cotton of your underwear. "Has he fucked you yet?"
You coughed on your own spit, eyes bulging out of their sockets at his crude question.
"Pardon?" you breathed, exasperated.
His reply was simple.
"You heard me."
"I don't believe that's any of your concern-" he was quick to interject, eyes swarming and dark, consuming you, leaving you to hang your head and cower.
"Finn's my brother," he spoke, "I have the right to know what he gets up to, and I don't want him corrupting a good girl like you just because he thinks he's in love."
You flushed at his words and you decided to answer his previous question, no matter how inappropriate.
"We haven't," your words were soft, quiet, he almost had trouble hearing you.
"Haven't what?" he hid his smirk, he already had you wrapped around his little finger, it was too easy.
"Had sex," you muttered, cheeks searing at your confession.
“Do you want to?” He asked, you stiffened, lashes fluttering and lips opening and closing like a poor fish out of water.
“M-maybe…”
“Come here,” Tommy patted his thigh, signalling you to come closer, to stand between his spread legs and have him look at you much closer. You did as he asked, you were a good girl after all.
“Do you want me to show you what it’s like?” He cooed all condescending and mocking, “Do you want me to show you what big, bad men do to little girls like you?”
“Mr Shelby, what about Finn?” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of his youngest brother.
“Fuck Finn,” he spoke slowly, “you forget about him when I’m talking to you, you understand me?”
You nodded, resting your hands against his shoulders to steady you when he tugged you closer by the frills of your nightgown.
“Yes, Mr Shelby,”
“No, no, none of that,” he shook his head, hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your soft, covered skin. “You address me properly.”
You searched your mind for the right term, brows furrowing and lips pouting, trying to think what on earth he wanted you to address him by.
“Come on, sweet girl,” he chuckled, bringing his thumb and forefinger to grip your chin, tugging it from side to side. “I’m your daddy now, isn’t that right?”
You whined, unable to control it, rubbing your thighs together, your walls collapsing and letting your submissive nature come to the forefront.
Thomas Shelby was the devil himself, you were sure— and he was your daddy. Finn had disappeared from your mind completely.
“Yes,” you sighed, all dreamily and cute, leaning into his touch, “yes, daddy.”
His plump lips curved up into a smirk, palm patting at your cheek as if you were a dog, eager for praise-- and you realised that wasn't too far from the truth; just a bitch in heat, eager and ready for her first breeding.
You stared at him, dumbified from those cornflower irises of his, almost hypnotizing, and you were sure you'd comply with anything he'd ask of you.
"What is it, sweetheart?" Tommy could practically see the gears shifting beneath your skull and he raised his brows when you stuttered, a silent 'I'm waiting' when you took far too long to answer him.
"C-Can I have a kiss?" you spoke shyly, thumbing the expensive cotton of his crisp shirt, growing impossibly warmer and not just because of the close proximity. "please?"
You made sure to add your plea, keeping your manners intact, giving him something to be proud of you for.
So innocent, he thought, you really were such a good girl-- something he thought was all just an act to get what you wanted, however with the way you stumbled over your words and fluttered your lashes, more eager for a kiss than anything else- anything more.
Yeah, that was no act.
Tommy fought the smile that ticked at his lips, using his fingers to tip your chin, tugging you closer, closer, closer, until you were a hair's width away. You could feel his lips brush against the skin of your cheek, gently, so uncharacteristic, you didn't think that a man of his status and power could be so sweet on someone.
Though, of course, that's what Tommy Shelby wanted you to think, he wanted you to succumb to the desires that he caused, take you and defile you and leave you wanting no man other than himself. He craved the power imbalance, the sick need to corrupt young, naive little girls like yourself.
Tommy Shelby was not sweet. He was worlds apart from that.
The soft feeling of his lips grew nearer, to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, before pecking your lips-- a small spongy kiss, capable of urging a little whine to escape your throat.
He kissed you again, slotting your mouths together, locking your lips one over the other, deepening the kiss and it quickly became heated. Swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, he didn't have the patience to wait for you to open up, instead forcing his prodding tongue inside your mouth, crudely swiping it against yours, sucking it between his lips before running it along the ridges of your teeth.
You didn't think kissing could feel so dirty, so unhinged, but you were rather ashamed to say you liked it. The way his callused hands trailed from your hips to your neck, all the way back down just to take a handful of your behind, squeezing the doughy globes roughly and playing with them as if you were a mere toy.
Tommy pulled away, a long, silver line of spit keeping your lips connected, only breaking apart when he began to speak, pushing at your shoulders and urging you to the carpet.
"On your knees," his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, clearly affected by you, by your innocence more like. "gonna teach you how to keep men like me happy."
You instantly obeyed, dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches, practically purring when he cupped and stroked your cheek.
He eyed you from below him, perched in the space between his knees and he spread them further to let you shuffle closer, your hands on his thighs.
"You're a good little pet, aren't you?" he cooed, swiping his thumb along your chin, "such a good listener, eh?"
You beamed up at him, leaning into his touch and nodding enthusiastically.
"Yes, Daddy," a little giggle pushed past your lips, "for you."
"That's right," he hummed, "just f'me."
You had an idea of what he wanted you to do and you fiddled with his belt in anticipation for his next command.
"You're gonna learn how to properly suck cock," he spoke, "and y'gonna do a fucking good job of it."
Your mouth watered at the prospect of having his cock on your tongue. You sighed dreamily.
"And once I've taught ya, that's gonna be your job from now on-- gonna ease daddy's stress whenever he needs you to."
You nodded, cheeks searing.
"Yes, sir- I'll do anything f'you."
He had you where he wanted you, compliant and ready to yield at his every command. It was too fucking easy, he almost wanted to laugh at your naivety, how unaffected you were by the idea of having another man's cock down your throat, your own boyfriend's brother in fact and Finn hadn't even crossed your mind. Poor, poor Finn, always second best when it came to being compared to Tommy.
You may have been a good girl and did as the older man said, but you were still a whore at heart. His little harlot.
"Come on then, sweetheart, I haven't got all day," he chastised, cocking his head down to his belt that you hadn't unbuckled yet. You had so much left to learn.
You fumbled with the leather that encircled his waist, pulling it through the silver buckle and from the loops before unzipping his fly and pulling his tailored trousers down as far as you could to his thighs.
The bulge in his briefs was prominent and your mouth salivated at the sight, your natural reaction to a sight so delectable, your first cock to suck and it was so big too, you wondered how you'd be able to take him without choking on him. But where was the fun if you weren't?
Your instincts told you to reach out and grab it, so you did just that, palming him through his underwear and feeling the warmth of his shaft jolt and throb against your grip, already hard and you swore you noticed a little wet spot saturating the fabric-- a trick of the light, you thought.
Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, giving you a pointed look, eyebrow raised.
"I'm not 'ere to get teased," he huffed, as if his cock wasn't jumping at the touch of your hand. He took a handful of your hair, tugging it and making your scalp burn. "come on, take it out and get to work."
Your fingers curled under the elastic of his briefs, pulling the fabric down to rest where his trousers were, and the sight had you gawking, eyes as wide as saucers as you took in his pretty appendage.
So thick, littered with blue veins, the colour much akin to the blue of his eyes and you swallowed down all the saliva that pooled under your tongue. His tip was a pretty shade of tan, glistening with beads of pre-cum, slapping against his stomach every time he throbbed.
"I didn't know they could be this pretty," you marvelled, taking hold of it and delicately running your fingers up each prominent vein. Tommy cleared his throat at your unexpected praise, the grip on your hair a lot softer than before, instead of tugging on it, he petted it down softly, watching you watch him.
"Put me in your mouth, darling," you smiled up at him teasingly pouting up at him.
"So impatient," you teased, your confidence rising, before you tightened your grip, puckering your lips around his tip, sucking it as if he were one of your favourite lollipops.
You took him out of your mouth with a soft pop, just to reattach yourself to him, lathering your tongue over his sensitive head, the somewhat salty taste igniting your tastebuds and you hummed around him.
"There y'go, you can take more than that," you hollowed your cheeks at his words, going lower, taking him deeper and slowly you started to bob your head up and down, moaning at his taste and thickness on your tongue.
With a particularly harsh downward thrust of your head, he reached the back of your throat, instantly causing you to gag and you pulled off him, whining and sniffling with tears ebbing over your waterline.
"Good girl," he cooed breathlessly, chest heaving and palms cradling your face, hushing and settling you when you continued to whine out. "Doin' so well, got me a little whore in the making, hm?"
He pushed you back onto his cock, guiding you down, down, down until you were gagging once again, though this time you didn't pull off of him, you couldn't, not with the strength he was using to hold and keep your head down. Your nose brushed against the course thatch of hair that littered his pelvis and you tried to resist gagging at the stupidly large intrusion by breathing steadily through your nose.
You wanted so badly to rise for air, to ease the soreness that started to buzz in your throat, but although this was your first time, a true beginner, he still treated you like one of his most proficient whores. Coughing and spluttering, drool started to slip from your mouth and down your chin, so messy and slick, dripping down the length of your neck, saturating your pink nightgown and settling in the space between your tits.
"Fuck," he groaned, "gonna fuck this little virgin throat, gonna make you choke- doesn't that sound good, sweet girl?"
With the way you sobbed and moaned around him, he took it as a yes, keeping a good, firm grip upon your tresses to bob you up and down as he pleased, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth in the middle.
You grew light-headed, crude, sloppy sounds filling the air along with your constant gags and you quickly slapped at his thigh, urging him to let you up, to go easy on you and let you catch your breath. He didn't stop, however, didn't even slow down, purposeful in messing with you and teaching you that he was in charge-- he would decide whether you needed to breathe or not.
He chuckled at your vulnerability, stopping his thrusts to to sheath himself deep down your throat and keep you still, just the feeling of you gagging around his shaft was enough to stimulate him.
Eventually, he let you up for breath, marvelling at how you coughed and struggled to catch your breath, your throat feeling entirely abused and sore each time you swallowed. His pretty cock jolted at the sight of you, so messy and whoreish, hair tangled and spit dribbling down your chin.
"Breathe, darling," he cooed, cupping your tear-stained cheeks between his rough palms and pouting at you mockingly, pressing a rather condescending peck to your forehead. "Bein' so good-- almost done, sweetheart, just gotta make daddy cum and then you can rest that lovely throat of yours."
You breathed shakily, settling down on your haunches again and grabbing his slick cock in your grasp.
"Okay, Daddy," you sniffled, such a sweet girl, even with a cock in your hand.
Tommy guided you down, conducting your movements with a thrust and push to your head, keeping you pliant and submerging himself within you, and if your throat felt this good his head reeled at the thought of your pussy-- so tight and virginal, untouched, not even by your curious little fingers.
He'd have all of you soon enough.
You could see his stomach muscles clenching, thighs flexing from under your palms and you hummed around him when you noticed his thrusts growing sloppier.
"Fuck," Tommy groaned, breaths haphazard and shaky, "you ready, sweet girl? You ready to taste Daddy's cum? Y'gonna swallow it all, aren't you, otherwise m'gonna have to force feed it down that pretty throat."
You stared up at him as best as you could, fluttering your lashes, tears spilling and clouding your vision, though you blinked them away, eager to see him, to see the way his face would contort, how beautiful he'd look whilst shooting cum inside your mouth.
One, two, three more thrusts were all it took for him to start convulsing, cock jolting on your tongue and spilling his seed, coating the walls of your constricting throat. He was groaning, moaning out loud, sounds so pretty you had to keep your thighs clenched tight.
"Shit- good girl, such a good little whore, you are."
He continued to ride his orgasm out, until he grew far too over-sensitive, pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting your head up, spent and eyes hooded watching you swallow his seed and hum at the newfound taste-- something you already found yourself becoming addicted to.
"Look," you beamed, still teary-eyed and shaky on your knees, you opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to marvel at, completely clean of all traces of his cum, now deep in your belly. "swallowed it all, daddy- just like you said."
Tommy's head started to spin, praising you at how good you had been though he felt strange, heart thumping in his chest at the mere sight of you, he felt soft, a small smile on his face without realising.
He thought you were wrapped tightly around his finger, however he had begun to realise in such a short time it was the complete opposite way around.
#tommy shelby blurb#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby smut#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders smut#cillian murphy blurb#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader
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Seamstress, Secretary, Sex-worker, Spy
John x female reader
Summary: You've been seen with John numerous times and now the Shelby family is getting suspicious. Who are you and what's your true relationship to John?
Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon. Tysm for the idea! I hope you don't mind that I wrote them as headcanons. I haven't had much time for full fics recently.
Warnings: language, mention of smut
🌹The first time someone sees you with John you're collecting the laundry, a large basket at your hip piled high with all his unwashed shirts. "Have we got a new washerwoman in town, Charlie?" Curly asks, scratching his head as he sees you passing on the street.
"Don't look like any washerwoman I ever saw," Charlie says ogling you.
💌The second time, you're in the betting shop, nibbling on the end of a pencil as you think of a clever note to leave on John’s desk. Linda rolls her eyes as she complains, "Perfect, they've sent me another useless idiot who can't do simple maths." When you disappear, she assumes you quit. "Thanks be to Jesus for that," she mutters under her breath.
❤️ The third time your presence is much harder to miss, a sharp cry of pleasure erupting from the snug in the Garrison. "Has John got a whore in there?" Isaiah asked, turning to Finn with a wicked smirk. Their suspicions seemed to be confirmed when you left minutes later, money in hand and a smoldering kiss to send you on your way.
🌹 The mystery of your presence remains in the following days and soon Tommy becomes suspicious as well. “I knew he was spending too much time in Solomons’ territory,” he grumbles, pacing the floor of his office. “What if that dodgy fucker sent her here?"
"A spy?" Polly chuckles as she leans back in her chair.
"Why not use a pretty girl to turn his head?," Tommy reasoned with a huff of frustration. When she rolled her eyes in return he shouted, "Everyone knows John thinks with his cock!"
💌 The family meeting begins without John who appears twenty minutes late, stuffing his shirt into the back of his trousers. Running to the meeting from your arms is difficult enough, but now the entire family is boring holes into him, expecting an explanation. When they begin telling him of their suspicions, his mouth drops open.
"You being serious, Tom?" he asks. "All of you?" he looks around the room aghast. Slowly everyone nods. "Bloody hell..." his voice drops as removes his cap and drops into a chair crestfallen.
❤️ Polly begins to look worried, leaning forward at the table to ask, "John, if this girl is going to be trouble, we need to know."
"Always thinking the worst, ain't ya?" he answers bitterly. Then he shakes his head with a little laugh, which angers Arthur first.
"You fucking laughing at us? Finn and Isaiah saw you pay the little tart! What's that about, eh?" he grumbles, anger contorting his face.
"What the fuck did you call her?" John seethes, lunging for his brother. A scuffle breaks out between them which Tommy and Uncle Charlie have to stop before either of them can land a punch.
🌹 John straightens his clothes as he begins, "Yeah, she's my girl. But she ain't a whore and she ain't a spy for Alfie fucking Solomons either alright? Moved to Saltley two years ago with her mum. I had it checked out....'M not as stupid as everyone thinks." He sniffs and takes a look around the room to see disbelief still hanging in the air. "Why is that so hard for you to believe?"
Polly places a hand on his arm, "We're listening, go on."
💌John's eyes soften as he speaks of you. "She takes care of me, does the laundry and shopping, leaves me kind notes..." Eyes glazing slightly at the memory he turns to Arthur adding, "Sucks me dry, I swear to God. Yesterday I thought--"
"We believe you," Polly interjects with a firm nod. Turning to her other nephew she states, "Tommy, I think this item of business is closed."
❤️ You're invited to the next family dinner as a way to placate John, but also for the others to get to know you. When they do, they adore you instantly and John is rightfully vindicated. "Shouldn't have doubted me," John reminds them.
"I know. I was wrong to say you were only thinking with your cock," Tommy apologizes.
"No, I was thinking with me cock, but for once it was the right decision," John admits with a wink.
------------------
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@mythos-writes
@look-at-the-soul
#John Shelby fanfic#John Shelby imagine#John Shelby x you#John Shelby x y/n#John Shelby x reader#John Shelby
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A Deal’s a Deal
Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader
Word Count: 11.7k words
Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, smoking, oral (f and m!receiving), dom/sub themes, degradation, virgin!reader, gun kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Tommy is mean and she wants him to be ...
A/N: So this was absolutely filthy and I will not apologize. I am American, but I used to British spelling for (as many of) the words that I caught because sometimes I like it better and it also just fit more for the fic. Also, when I say “gun kink”, I mean gun kink. This is filthy shit. Who knows? I may consider writing a second... Enjoy.
Keen eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed as Aberama Gold walked onto the yard, a sly smirk set in place among blond hair and a suit likely just as expensive as his own. The way his eyes surveyed the yard, examined every inch he could without touching any of it, even stopping by Charlie for a word, made Tommy aware it was for more than just surveillance.
Aberama finally approached, his men following after with their own vigilance. "I just took a look around. I like this place," he announced. "Fire for melting silver, canal to get it away." He stopped in front of him, well out of reach but just as imposing as the growing headache Tommy felt nagging at the back of his head. "How much?"
Tommy took a long look at him, still as a statue as blue eyes pierced through blue eyes. He considered not even regarding the question, moving on to more pressing business and pretending it had never been asked, but he knew better. Arthur drank from his flask.
"Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold."
He disagreed. "Oh, everything's for sale. Everything."
Tommy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, bringing it to his lips but not quite slipping it through yet. Aberama spilled the rest of the tea in his cup into the fire, which roared with the fuel to its flames.
"You tell Mr. Strong I'm going to buy his yard." He didn't leave room for debate.
But Tommy didn't care. "This yard has been in his family since they settled." He moved the cigarette between his lips.
"But I've decided to make it a part of our deal."
There was a long pause as the men stared each other down, testing the other's strength, their tolerance of cold eyes. The sounds of metal and fire and cups on tables next to them filled the silence and fueled the suspense of a standoff.
"Charlie?" Tommy finally spoke, calling to his uncle. "Charlie, come here." He obliged with a sigh. As he stood next to him with a dirty rag to clean dirty hands, Tommy continued. "Gonna spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."
Frustration was quick to settle at his words. He dropped his hands at his sides. "You're goin' to what?"
Tommy didn't spare him a glance, never breaking contact with Aberama as he spoke. "If it's heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing."
"Tommy?" Charlie warned, upset.
"And if it's tails…" he considered for a moment, gesturing to Aberama with his cigarette in hand, "I fuck your daughter, Mr. Gold."
Aberama's grin fell. Arthur laughed, a stifled laugh into his arm at the offer. Tommy's demeanour did not change.
Now, Tommy was a smart man who did his research. He knew all about Aberama Gold's family, but more specifically about his daughter—and, even more specifically, about his oldest. He knew she was a primary school teacher, how that came to be, he was sure it was with the help of her father. He knew she was Aberama's firstborn, born from another woman he'd fallen for but lost too quick to be left without love. Lastly, he knew she was without a husband, or even a suitor with the potential of wedding bells. With how beautiful you had been rumoured to be, he didn't understand it.
He was shocked he hadn't already had you yet.
"You have three daughters, I hear, and Y/N is the oldest and also the prettiest, so I'll have her. So make her part of the deal and spin against the yard." He replaced his cigarette between his lips, putting his hands in his pockets.
Arthur was still amused. The same could not be said for Charlie as he stepped closer. "Tommy, for fuck's sake."
Tommy fished for a coin in his pocket, flicking it over. "Here, you toss the coin, Mr. Gold."
He caught it easily, staring down Tommy before moving the coin in his palm to examine it thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, ready to call a bluff.
Tommy shook his head, just as serious and solemn as before as he took in his grin. "No." He shook his head, raising a finger to point at him with grim intent. "Please don't believe this is a joke, the coin to us is sacred. Yes, Arthur?"
"Sacred," Arthur agreed, his eyes as still and as menacing as his brother's.
They continued to stare. Aberama continued to think.
Tommy gave his warning. "You toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses, and if I win…"
"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement…" Arthur tried again, "wager are fulfilled."
Tommy's eyes held a threat. "Toss the coin, Mr. Gold."
Aberama considered, setting the coin on the crook of his finger and propping his thumb underneath. He contemplated, debating himself and his luck silently as the sounds of metal and fire raged against the silence and pulled the tension taut. Loud, defeaning.
"Tommy Shelby, OBE," he mumbled, still considering. Tommy saw the moment of decision behind his eyes before it reached his face. The challenge, the question of "Perhaps?" warring in his mind. Aberama smiled a small smile. "I'll take your wager."
The Shelby boys tilted up their heads.
Aberama flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent into his hands and he sighed as he closed his palm and slapped it onto the back of his hand. The coin seared his flesh as he stared at Tommy, hoping to see the right side of the coin staring back at him when he unveiled the result.
They stared, tense. "Well?" Tommy raised a brow.
Aberama removed his hand.
And his luck drained as he stared down at the coin tails up to the world.
He lingered for a moment, feeling the eyes on him burning into his skin just as the coin did. "...Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," he breathed. He took the coin and showed the boys. "Tails."
Tommy's lip twitched, although it was hardly susceptible to the eye. "Tails," he repeated, his voice darker than before. He readjusted his stance, regarding Aberama as he spoke to the uncle at his side. "Go on back to work, Charlie. Your yard is safe."
Charlie stepped closer, asking the question as though he was whispering it just to him. "Are you actually going to fuck his daughter, Tom?"
Tommy still didn't look at Charlie, watching Aberama intensely, as if to remind him that this was all his fault.
People seemed to forget who he was. They seemed to forget that you shouldn't fuck around with Tommy fucking Shelby, OBE.
"A deal's a deal, Charlie," he said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gold?"
He stared back with fire in his eyes. "Aye, Mr. Shelby."
~
The cab slowed to a stop in front of the large estate you were an expected guest in. Looking out of the window and through the dark, your stomach flipped at the prospect of the meeting you were meant to attend.
Your father had told you that the infamous Thomas Shelby was interested in meeting you. You were grading loads of papers at the time when you stopped to look at him, frozen in confusion. You asked him why and he brushed off the topic like he hadn't even brought it up, giving you a time and date and leaving it at that.
And now you're here, staring at his house and feeling the anxiety of how this evening would go as you stepped out of the car and watched him drive off. You fixed your dress, straightened your spine, and released a breath before beginning the looming evening with a walk up to the door through the dark, guided only by the lamps outside.
You clicked the knocker three times, waiting with your clutch held tightly in front of you. As the door was pulled open, you were somehow relieved to be met with an older woman. Though her blue eyes were shocking and her quirked brow was intimidating, she offered a kind smile and you were put to ease.
You really shouldn't have been as anxious as you were. You were a Gold and a gypsy—if something bad was going to happen to you, you would know and you wouldn't be there in the first place.
But this was Thomas Shelby, and you were terrified. He was rumoured to be the devil himself.
The woman opened the door wider. "Hello." She looked you up and down before stepping aside. "Come in."
You thanked her quietly, walking into the house and glancing around. It was nice. "How may I help you this late in the night?" she wondered, clasping her hands behind her as she awaited your answer.
"Um…" You smiled bashfully but not without the air of respect you've grown into and been taught to demand. "I don't actually know why I'm here. My father, Aberama Gold, sent me to see Tommy Shelby. I am to have an appointment with him?"
She hummed, "Of course. Wait here while I go fetch him." She began to walk off before correcting herself, looking back at you with a respectful smile. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"
"No, thank you."
She left.
You stood in the foyer, twiddling your thumbs atop your clutch as your heart skips in your chest. With a calming breath, you steadied yourself, closing your eyes and waiting patiently.
You swung a foot out, taking a step forward as you wandered farther down the hall to see inside the main room. It was large, decorated sparsely with paintings and tiny statuettes. You didn't get a good look.
When she came back, she was not alone. Turning at the sound of shoes descending stairs, you saw him.
He still wore a suit. Although his jacket was removed, his timepiece was still in place connected to its chain. His sleeves were rolled up—you weren't sure why you noticed that so clearly.
He stared at you with a cigarette between his lips as his cold, blue eyes pierced your soul. Your heart jumped again. Anxious.
He watched you, looking you up and down and taking you in. He brought his hand up to remove his cigarette from between his lips, releasing a long, smoky breath. The look in his eyes shook you.
"Thank you, Mary." His voice was deep as it rumbled in his chest. "You can go to bed now."
Mary looked you up and down briefly. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir."
You didn't break eye contact with Tommy as she ascended the stairs. Even when she was completely gone, he didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze was hard to keep up.
You looked away.
"Come," he finally spoke, walking down the rest of the stairs and meeting you. He lingered in front of you for a moment, as if he just wanted a closer look, before continuing to move. You willed your feet to do so, following slowly behind him.
He took you to his study just off from the main room, pushing the door open to allow you inside. You entered silently, glancing along the room to take it in. He had a library, a burning fireplace, plenty of sofas, and a large wall of windows. The drapes were already drawn for the night, and the large room was illuminated by a small chandelier. You set your purse on the nearest table.
You watched Tommy walk toward his desk in front of the windows. He leaned on it, crossing one leg in front of the other. He stared at you again, and you quickly became frustrated with his gaze as you sighed gently and stood across from him, keeping plenty of distance.
Silence stretched on as he continued to stare and smoke, and you were growing impatient as you stared back. The longer he watched you, unyielding, the more you felt the need to squirm. It was only when you broke his eye contact again, like you had before on the stairs, that he decided to speak.
"Do you know why you're here, Miss Gold?" he asked.
Now that this was finally going somewhere, you sighed. "Y/N, and no," you replied.
He raised his brows. "What did your father tell you, Y/N?"
You shrugged. "That you wanted to meet me and nothing else." His vagueness was really beginning to frustrate you after enduring all of that staring. Why had he stared for so long?
Tommy hummed deep in his chest, looking you up and down with a little nod of his head. He put it bluntly as he gestured toward you with his cigarette. "Your father lied."
It was your turn to raise your brows. "I'm sorry?"
Tommy reached behind him to put his cigarette out, stifling it against the ashtray on his desk. "Your father flipped a coin for a bit of property and lost. In return," he looked at you again, speaking slowly, "he gave you to me to fuck."
Your heart was slamming into your ribcage at the knowledge. Images of such a thing flashed behind your eyes, and your throat went dry. You looked down at your shoes for a moment, blinking rapidly as you stretched your jaw. "I-I don't understand," you confessed, releasing a humourless chuckle and licking your lips. "He… he wouldn't do that."
"Wouldn't he?" he shrugged. When you didn't reply, he furrowed his brows. "Why else would you be here?"
You still didn't respond. He allowed you to process, though part of you felt like he was enjoying all of this, and you did not.
The anticipation started at your heart and spread through your body as it made a home in your chest, curling and writhing there in a bundle of anxious energy.
You swallowed thickly, "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Shelby?"
He considered your question, mumbling quietly to himself as though he was mocking you, "Am I going to hurt you?" His eyes raked over your body, considering something silently in his head before he spoke again. "Come here."
You didn't move, otherwise frozen in place as you stared at him. Your disobedience seemed to astound him for a moment as he raised his dark brows and pointed to his shoes. "Here. Now." His voice was deeper with the command. He left no room for defiance.
Your body responded before your mind, not eager to see what would happen if you refused a second time. Your feet took you carefully toward him, slow steps treading the space between you until you were hardly a foot apart from him. His expression seemed to ease then, just enough to tell you that you were close enough now.
He took in your face from this distance. You could almost feel his breath. He spoke to you in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest and resonated with you.
"I am a devil, but I'm no monster." Where you expected a crook of his finger to lift your chin, he gave you his hand to take a hold of your jaw and pull you close. "I won't force myself upon you, but if you agree to this, I will not be gentle. So, yes… I am going to hurt you."
You didn't respond—you couldn't. His words echoed in your mind and your mind warred with your body over what you would do in response and, thus, created none. You were frozen, staring at him as he held your face in a slight grip and held your attention in a much tighter one. You forget the fire burning smoke up its chimney. You forget the rows and rows of books lining the shelves of the office. You forget the clothes on your back, for his stare had stripped you bare for him to see.
He let go of your face, but you were not sure how well your brain registered that as you lingered in the same position, gripped in the same attention.
"If you want to leave," he said after a moment, "you'd better walk out of that door right now under the lie that the wager between your father and me was fulfilled. Hell, I'll even make you a cup of tea while you wait, and you can be on your way."
You considered that option. It would be like you never even came—except you did. And you knew you did. The stain of his stare, the hole he had burned into your clothes, into your skin, would never wash away. You would feel it every hour of every day as a reminder of the time you met the Tommy Shelby and lived not to tell the tale.
"But if you stay…" the corner of his lip twitched up at the idea, his pupils darkened and his voice deepened, "you're not leaving until I say you can." Even with their simplicity, his words made you shiver.
"Now, I will ask you once and one time only…" he leaned forward, his head very slightly tilted, his nose nearly brushing yours, "Are you leaving?"
As if you could say no with him this close to you. As if you could say anything with him this close to you.
Your options were idiotic.
Leave and live with the memories you gained here—the closeness, the silent obedience, the cold stare you could never wash from your soul. You would always feel it, feel him. He would never go away, plaguing your mind like a ghost of what could have been.
Or…you could stay. You could stay here and see what happened. You could let him ravage you, let him tear you apart and lick at your flesh and bone as he took you under his primal gaze. You could succumb to the ice in his eyes and let the burn of his touch mix together in some powerful, searing concoction. You would never wash his stain off, no matter how hard you scrubbed, but some part of you was alright with that.
And Tommy seemed to see that in your eyes.
He was amused as he shook his head, leaning back and away from you. He was teasing, you knew it now, heavily amused by the tiny reactions he earned from you as he pulled away to make you suffer a hint of withdrawal. It was with that distance that you realised you'd fallen in his trap, gone in too deep to turn back and be rescued from this tragic and ungodly addiction.
"No, you're not," he said—and, for a moment, you forget what he was talking about. "I can see it in your eyes, the same look your father had before he flipped that coin. You want to know what'll happen if you stay."
You seemed to snap out of it almost as you took a step back, establishing a bit more space as he revealed things you didn't want revealed. In doing so, you proved his point.
"You know exactly what happens if you leave. You go back to your regular life as a school teacher with siblings and a father to take care of." He chuckled silently, and you clenched your teeth. "No, you want to see how far this will go."
He raked his eyes over you for the hundredth time, and he knew the rumours were true. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty blushy cheeks. There was not a flaw on you that he could see. You were a beauty, an unconquered beauty he intended not to leave uncharted.
You looked away from him, glancing down between your feet and your hands and anywhere but his face as you processed his words, digesting them for what they were—the ugly truth you wished you could throw a blanket back over, swept back under the rug and hidden from view.
Tommy tilted his head as something dawned on him.
"Are you a virgin, Y/N?"
You kept your eyes on the ground, like you were watching his shoes—which you probably are—and shook your head. "I change my mind. You can call me Miss Gold." He could almost laugh at the idea, in fact, he almost did laugh. You brought yourself to look at him, your eyes stern with poorly hidden dismay. "And if I was?"
It made sense. No husband, no suitor, no time for one anyway. His lip lifted very slightly in the corner, and it felt like he was laughing at you. "The proper phrasing is 'and if you are?'" He leaned in, taunting you. "Because you are, Y/N."
You huffed to keep your eyes from fluttering at the effect he had on you. "How do you know?" you asked, doing your best not to sound as upset as you were. Your best was very poor.
He breathed a silent chuckle. "Because if I say the word 'sex'..."
You licked your lips and shifted your weight to your other leg, realising your mistake as soon as you made it but not showing it. You glanced away from him, and that was when you showed the realisation of your second mistake.
He pointed at you, ever amused. "You do that."
You thought for a moment over a way to say your next words without confessing anything—even if you knew it would be rendered unnecessary, as he seemed to read you like an open book.
"What if I did want to see what would happen?"
He inclined his head, lifting a brow. A small huff of a breath made up a tiny chuckle at your words. "Look at you," he said. "A good girl so bored she wants a go with a gangster."
You shrugged a shoulder. "All my family's gangsters and gypsies. It's in my blood."
He stared at you, cold and frozen like a statue. You stared back, gaze darting from eye to eye.
"In your blood," he muttered to himself.
You had no time to process what happened next. All you felt was his hand on the back of your neck and then your cheek against the cold wood of his desk. You groaned at the suddenness of it, stunning you completely—especially when his body pressed against the back of yours, crushing you against the desk and keeping you there.
Your breath was erratic, your pulse loud in your ears. Everything had happened so quickly, you were still catching up. The only thing that grounded you was the cold shock of something against the back of your head and the cock of a gun in your ears.
It was all suddenly very real—the anticipation, the suspense. You held your breath.
"Maybe I lied," he rasped in your ear, his voice just as dangerous as his gun to your head. "Maybe I want to see what's in your blood instead, eh?"
Your lips parted as shallow breaths passed between them, loud in your ears but likely nearly silent to him. You swallowed hard, frightened and exhilarated. "You're not going to kill me, Mr. Shelby."
"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" He seemed to press the gun even closer, trying to scare you some more. But you were a Gold, and guns to heads were not as effective to you as it might have been to someone else from a family that wasn't yours.
"Because you want to see what will happen."
Surprised by your answer, he scoffed. "Maybe you are a whore." He pushed his hips harder into you, thus pushing you harder against the desk. The edge of the wood cut into your thighs, aching and proving very uncomfortable. A strained breath grunted from you.
You smiled slyly, looking back at him as best you could. "Which is it?" you chuckled, "Whore or virgin?"
He took pause, shaking his head as he uncocked the gun. "No," he chuckled darkly. "Just a twisted little girl who gets off to guns at her head."
Your smirk dropped, amusement gone at his words. You furrow your brow, thoroughly upset that he would accuse you of something so crude. "I don't."
"No?" he asked before leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver. "Then why are you so wet?"
You stilled. You hadn't realised it until he said it, the wetness between your thighs, the arousal hiding beneath your thundering pulse. That tingling sensation of simmering lust was now weighing down on you like an anvil, a terrible sentence you wanted to escape but found yourself physically incapable of. Your legs trembled, but you couldn't tell if it was from the ice or the fire rushing through your veins. God forbid it be both.
Your silence made him smirk against your ear. "You really are," he scoffed again. "That was just a guess, sweetheart."
You huffed, doing everything you could to avoid clenching your thighs. With how close he was to you, his body pressed against you so tightly, he'd surely feel it. The shame was thick enough as it was.
"Fuck you," you spat.
He was not fazed by your aggression. "I intend to."
With a sudden burst of defiance, you pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to face him. Your faces were so close, breathing in each other's scent as the both of you refused to back down. You heard him uncock his gun, tossing it onto the table behind you without breaking eye contact.
"This isn't the first time I've had a gun to my head, nor will it be the last," you told him. "And it's definitely not the first time a man's expressed his desire to fuck me."
"But it's the first time he's been able to, eh? Because before you had Daddy's protection." His hand landed on your waist, roughly pulling you toward him so your bodies were touching. It was useless to try to hide to fluster he put you in, but you did your best anyway. His voice was nearly a growl. "Well, where is he now?"
You shook your head, breathing shallow breaths. "I don't need his protection."
His smirk was small and taunting as he stared at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.
"You do from me."
His lips crashed down upon yours as he pulled you close. Your surprised gasp was cut off, silenced by his harsh kiss. The feeling was foreign but not entirely unwelcome. Even as the force of his lips had his teeth smashing yours, cutting into the top of your own lip and greeting you with the taste of blood, you welcomed it.
You kissed back, moving your lips with his and following his lead but doing no more than that. Even if you had already compromised yourself, it would help not to encourage him.
When he pulled away from you, you chased his lips and felt the shame of it hot on your cheeks. He smiled at your eagerness, even chuckled at your breathlessness as he shook his head.
"My, my," he goaded. "You really do want this, you twisted little whore."
You shivered at his words and still denied. "And if I don't?" you countered, practically staring at his pink lips and proving him right.
He shook his head. "You should've walked out that door."
He kissed you again, silencing you once more until his lips had a moan clawing up your throat. He placed a hand on your chest, pulling you forward just a slight from turning you in one arm and shoving you back.
You stumbled backward, catching your footing again as you stared at him between the long distance he had put between the both of you. It surprised you and now you were trying to put your mind back in order, as though it hadn't been scrambled enough from his kiss.
"If you want to go so badly, prove it to me." He pointed to the door, urging you to leave with dark eyes and darker words. "Run. Run away, before I catch you."
You stared at him, catching your breath and contemplating. He was giving you one last chance for an out, one last chance to turn away and forget about tonight.
But you could never forget what happened here, especially not now, and not ever. Staring back at his dangerous eyes, you made your choice, knowing there was no turning back.
So you would prove that you wanted to stay as you trudged the distance between you and closed it with your lips on his, addicted to the taste of him—the taste of danger and intrigue and all things twisted in the world.
His hand cupped the back of your head as he opted to devour you, allowing your fingers to work at the buttons of his vest to remove it. You gasped into his mouth and made your decision before your inexperience could talk you out of it, separating from his lips only to kneel down before him with your eyes locked on his.
Amazed by your initiative, he encouraged you by leaning his hips out as you worked at his belt. You fumbled for a moment too long before you finally got his trousers open, finally reaching what you were aiming for as you pulled him from his underwear.
You stared wide-eyed at him as you took in the sight of his cock, the tip flushed red and the vein along the underside pulsing with his well-disguised lust. You looked up at him, finding him staring back down at you with those cold, dark eyes.
"Well, go on then," he mumbled as you continued to stare, conflicted between different courses of action.
Your body heat seemed to rise at the realisation that you were staring like a fool. You swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up and wrapping it gently around him, gliding your thumb along his tip and feeling a little more confident when his unyielding eyes fluttered. You continued on, rubbing your thumb at the head of him before stroking your fist along the length of him, up and down in a steady rhythm as you navigated what he liked and didn't like.
One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, urging you forward as your face pressed into his hips with the warmth of his cock on your cheek. Slowly, you kissed it, your lips gliding along the length as you took in the unfamiliar sensation. You slipped your tongue through your lips, licking along the side until you reached his flushed tip. Kissing the slit at the head of his cock, the bead of pre-cum there spread over your lips as you darted your tongue out to lick it.
You opened your mouth at the taste, setting his tip on your tongue and shivering at the feeling as you closed your lips around it. You built yourself up for it as you felt his heavy stare at the top of your head, bobbing your head slowly back and forth as you took the smallest bit more with each comeback. As he reached the back of your tongue, that tickling feeling in your throat began to tease you before the threat of gagging became too much to try to pass through.
By now, his cock was glistening with your saliva. As you looked up at him with eyes beginning to tear from your efforts, he stared back, lost in the pathetically illusioned look on your face. "You can't be done already," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair.
You spoke breathlessly, "Tommy–"
"No," he shook his head. "Not Tommy. You call me 'sir' while you're sat there on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You understand?"
You took in his authority, deciding whether or not you would listen. You began to scoff, "I'm not–"
"You will," he said finally, giving you that look that demanded respect. You knew, staring at him now, that he held the key to your pleasure. If you wanted to feel good, you would have to obey. As much as that annoyed you, it thrilled you all the same as he continued to look down on you like he was.
Your jaw ached with resentment, but you knew it was a front, you fighting the submission you were not meant to have. But you wanted it. You wanted him to break you down to some common whore, to strip you of your importance as a Gold and turn you into his plaything. But it was so firmly embedded, you would just have to keep fighting against it.
But that didn't matter right now, not with you on your knees with his cock in your hand.
"I can't do it…sir," you replied.
He raised a brow. "Can't do what?"
He was taunting you, insulting you by trying to make you say something you didn't want to say. It sat on your tongue like venom. Admitting what you classified as "it" felt like a new kind of torture.
"What is it you can't do, eh?" he questioned, even smirking at you like he knew he held all the cards. Because he did.
"I can't…" you swallowed thickly, bowing your head.
"No, no," he tsked, lifting your head with his hand in your hair to force you to look at him. And he wasn't lying before—he wouldn't be gentle. "Look at me and tell me what you can't do."
You huffed, speaking in a squeak of a voice. "Can't… take it all."
"What was that?"
"I can't take it all," you repeated, not yelling but not whispering either.
He smiled at you then, an evil, nasty smile that you wanted to wipe from his face. "That's all?" he questioned, laughing when you broke his eye contact. "Well, sure you can. Let me show you."
The exchange was promptly ended as his hand in your hair guided your head back to him as you took his cock in your mouth again, and he pushed you down, inch by inch, back onto him. You felt his tip pushing into your mouth, deeper and deeper on your tongue until he brushed the back of your throat. You gagged around him, feeling the sensations of the invasion rushing down your spine, resting in your belly and tingling all over.
As your nose brushed against his pelvic bone, your eyes welled up as tears spilled over your cheeks. He shushed you as you gagged on his cock, your throat adjusting around the intrusion. His hips bucked a couple of times, pushing his cock further until he could go no deeper. When he pulled out, you took as much air into your burning lungs as possible before you were interrupted by a few coughs.
As much as you wanted to slap him for the assault on your throat, one look at the pleasure on his face calmed the fire of frustration and fed the ache of arousal between your legs.
"Don't– do that again," you huffed, still catching your breath as you leaned forward on your knees to take him into your hot mouth again. You didn't go nearly as far again as you licked along his length, suckling around his cock and laving your tongue along his tip and the vein on the underside.
"The hell I won't," he mumbled, not the biggest fan of your telling him what to do but not necessarily put off by the idea. His hand remained a tangled mess in your hair as you continued to suck and lick and kiss.
You weren't expecting it when he pushed you down the second time, but at least you knew what to expect as you shut your eyes tight and took it, accepting the twisted pleasure that blossomed in your belly until he pulled out of your mouth again, keeping you back as he groaned.
You wiped your mouth off, staring at him with wet eyes and breathing through an open mouth. A deep breath exhaled from his lungs as he hoisted you to your feet, searching out your lips to bring you into another kiss. He turned you both around and pressed your back into his desk as he continued to kiss you roughly, pushing you back until you collapsed on the dark wood.
You gasped in surprise but barely had time to process as his lips continued to attack yours. His hands grasped the neckline of your dress, encouraging shivers down your spine. When he suddenly ripped and ripped at your clothes tearing them off you like a beast, you gasped and watched him turn your dress to rags.
It wasn't long before you were bare in front of him, save for the pantyhose hiding nothing from him. Then those were gone, too. Your hands instinctively flew to your body, trying to cover yourself up. There was really no reason for modesty, not now that you had already seen his cock and had it shoved down your throat, but this was entirely new and you would have rather liked a warning beforehand.
"Don't cover yourself now," he said as he entwined his hands with your own and pulled them away, spreading you out to see every inch of you with those hungry eyes. Your body trembled with the feeling of his eyes on your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the mix of emotions ruling you.
Where some would take pity, Tommy just smiled darkly and tsked gently as he leaned forward and began kissing your neck. Your mouth fell open as your eyes fluttered to see him. A slight moan caught in your throat escaped at the sensation of lips to skin and your hands struggled where he restrained them, wanting to touch him again.
His kisses were not so patient after a moment as teeth began to scrape skin, sucking and nibbling on flesh in order to mark uncharted territory. The pleasure it gave him to know that no man had ever done this to you before was intense, driving him crazy with lust, a desire to claim you as his hips cant into your own, pushing you further into the desk and otherwise hurting you—if you had not been so preoccupied with his kiss.
You moaned into the air when his hand tightened around your thigh, squeezing roughly as he groped and kneaded the flesh. His other hand busied itself around your throat and tilted your head off to the side, sitting securely there but not quite squeezing the same. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist nonetheless, though you didn’t know whether you were trying to make him stop or keeping his hand there, wrapped around your throat and effectively putting him in charge.
The hand on your thigh travelled up, smoothing along your skin until he reached your hip. It never stayed there, moving back down as his fingers brushed over your exposed cunt. Your breath stopped in your throat when you felt his fingers ghosting over your lips and gasped when you felt his middle finger slip between them before biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to silence yourself.
His lips brushed your ear as he spoke in his low tones. “You like being touched by me? Eh?” A whimper left your throat when his finger pressed into you, pushing past your folds and into the warm, wet feeling inside of you. You clenched around it, the feeling foreign and but so good. "You're practically a whore now. I did buy ya after all—cost me a penny."
Your legs trembled as he stretched you out around his finger, a second playing at your pussy before carefully joining the other. "A penny?" you stuttered. "I personally think I'd be worth at least two."
"Well, let's see then," he said, lifting his brows as he pulled his finger out of you.
You whimpered, granting him an annoyed expression at the absence of his touch so soon. "See what?"
"If you taste good enough for two pennies."
You stared at him as his lips kissed your chest, sucking on your nipples on the way down and continuing on down to your thighs. A shocked yelp came from you when he bared his teeth around a chunk of flesh, only soothed when he kissed over it.
He gripped your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, taking your hips in his hands and pushing himself up so your body was nearly folded in half. He didn't stall you at all as he buried his head between your thighs, licking and sucking on your folds as he shoved his tongue between them.
Your head flew backward, banging against the table. You hardly noticed, even with the full throb at the back of your head, the slight dizziness in your brain. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in dark strands and tugging him forward. His tongue was just as skilled here, commanding your body to his every will, as it was during his speeches while he commanded armies of men to join in his cause or to intimidate against their own.
One hand left your hip to play with your cunt, toying with your clit. He pushed two fingers into your fluttering hole, swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned for him to continue.
"Fuck," you mewled, closing your legs around his head and digging your heels into his back. He didn't seem to care, not until you messed up. "Please don't stop, Tommy."
But he did. His fingers and tongue retreated as he pulled back, straightening his back and letting one leg fall from his shoulder, though he kept the other firmly held to his chest.
You whined, looking at him with shallow breath. You watched him lick his kiss-swollen lips as he stared at you with black eyes. The emotions in your belly swirled between lust and frustration and fear and intrigue. He was so intimidating and you wanted more. You wanted him to keep kissing you, to keep dragging his tongue along your wet pussy. But you also wanted him to push you into the floor and take you from behind, his hips slapping into you, his hand planting your cheek against the cold floor, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear.
"Please," you whimpered, too desperate to care about how pathetic you sounded.
He lifted a brow, saying nothing and staring. When you tried to sit up to reach his face, he pressed a hand into your chest and pushed you down roughly, leaning forward himself to paralyse you with his dangerous glare. Even with his hand on your chest, you tried to sit up still to kiss his pretty lips but he wouldn't let you. Your thigh ached from the position.
"Please," you whispered again, a broken moan as the lack of pleasure became too much, welling in your chest and making your body tremble.
He tilted his head.
You let out a shaky breath, moving your free leg outward to spread yourself even wider for him. "Please, sir," you concede. "Please keep going. I want it."
He didn't continue. His eyes bore into yours and you shuddered. With a gentle huff, you handed over the last of your dignity. "Please, sir, I need it."
He lingered there for a moment longer before smirking. You thought he was going to kiss you when he leaned forward, but instead he took your bottom lip between his teeth and but down before returning to his previous position between your legs.
He began again with the same intensity, devouring you as though you were his last meal. You whimpered and moaned and cried from the pleasure he forced into you. As he shoved his fingers into you, spreading them apart and thus stretching you wider, suckling on your clit and kneading it with his tongue, a coil tightened in your belly as everything seemed to follow.
Your moans built to whining breaths—too high and pitchy to be real—but genuine nonetheless. He didn't let up or slow down, drunk on the taste of you and too far gone to stop just yet, not without his reward.
The warm, wet feeling of his mouth became too much, the suckling of his lips even moreso. You squeezed your eyes tight, arching your back as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your breath was rough and forceful as it rasped in and out of your throat, and your hands clenching in his hair tugged and tugged as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure took siege of your body, attacking every nerve ending until you were naught but a pile of flesh and blood and bone.
The high slowly descended to bring you back to Tommy Shelby's study, his tongue at your pussy a distant sensation in the back of your mind before it burnt with oversensitivity. You tugged at his hair, grunting as you pulled his head away to catch your breath.
His chin glistened and his lips were plump with blood as he stared at your recuperating body. He pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, taking them between his lips to taste you.
"Too much?" he asked, not in any way sensitive as he stared. "What, it feels too good, it hurts?" All you could do was nod. He breathed a laugh. "Have you ever touched yourself before, love?"
You didn't have it in you to be shy as you shook your head. He didn't take that answer this time—not humiliating enough, you supposed.
"Eh?" he urged, lightly smacking your arse to get a proper answer.
You grunted, shaking your head. "No, sir."
"That's your first time cumming then," he said more than asked, watching your dazed eyes slowly return to the dull bite of their natural rebellion—though he knew he broke you down enough for it to be too weak to matter.
He still awaited an answer. "Yes, sir," you obliged.
"Well, congratulations," he said. "Most men don't know how to please, so most women don't get to cum."
You disregarded his comment, still stuck on the aftershocks of pleasure as your eyes wandered the room. You whimpered when he licked you again, suckling around your clit and earning a jerk from your body.
He sat up, moving your legs off his shoulders like they were nothing important to him. He wrapped a hand at the base of your skull and pulled you up to sit. "Come here," he said, bringing you close to his face. "Have a taste."
He pulled you forward and crashed his lips against yours, too rough but just as amazing as all the rough ones he'd given before. The taste of you was strange but addictive as you came back for more, even as he pulled you away.
Tommy backed away from you, leaving you bare and hot on the desk. His hair was a mess, and he licked his lips again. He gestured toward you. "Stand up." You did as you were told, steadying yourself on unsteady feet. "Turn around."
As you obeyed, he came up behind you and pushed you onto the desk again, just as he'd done before. You grunted at the impact and clenched your thighs at the effect it had on you. You hated how good it made you feel, his treating you so roughly, without a care to just how rough. You hated even more how much rougher you wanted him to be.
Your prayers may have been met with extremity when you felt his gun to your head again as he spoke into your ear.
"I could kill you," he considered, pressing the gun further.
Your heart kicked up, and the adrenaline took over as his unwavering voice promised your demise. You held back your moan and responded, "But you won't."
"Why not?"
"You need me," you insisted. He laughed. "It's true. You kill me, well I'm Daddy's favourite. There'll be war. You make me go, I'll just keep coming back to finish it. You fuck me now, your wager is fulfilled and you get to fuck a virgin. What man doesn't want that, eh?"
Oh, you were good. Even if he was going to kill you, your words were enough to persuade him otherwise. He pressed the gun into your temple and the clicking sound of him clocking it reverberated in your ear. You moaned a long, deep moan as you clenched your thighs tightly together.
He smiled, laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head. "A proper whore, you are."
"Then fuck me, sir. That's the purpose of a whore, isn't it?" You gripped the edge of the table when he pushed his hips into you, aching that same spot on your thighs from before and making your lust all the worse.
He lingered, the cold barrel cocked and ready. You held your breath and awaited his decision before he removed it from your head. You sighed gently, missing his warmth when he stepped away from you.
Your hips jolted when the cold tip of his gun pressed to your pussy, spreading your lips apart to see you still wet for him. With the gun still cocked, your heart pounded against your ribcage and you felt the anxiety building deliciously in your body. He hummed, considering something in his head. You stayed as still as possible, certain your breath was loud as you wondered what he was thinking.
You heard him kneel, hyperaware of every sound he made behind you. His hand nudged the other side before he was leaning forward to taste you again.
You whimpered. "You're a dirty whore for being this wet," he said. You bit down on your lip.
He stood again and bent himself over your body. "You got my gun dirty," he tutted, shaking his head like he was scolding you as he shoved the barrel in your face. You could see your arousal gleaming off of it, shaking at the sight of it so close. "Clean it up."
You didn't move, paralyzed by fear. He didn't like that. "Clean. It. Up."
You let out a wavering breath, "Yes, sir." You leaned forward slowly, not even certain you were actually moving, and stuck your tongue out the slightest bit. You shut your eyes, making contact with the gun and a tiny whine slipped.
He watched you do as you were told, licking your slick from his gun and loving every second. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and beautiful. He kissed it from your skin as you cleaned the gun.
When he deemed that you'd done well enough, he uncocked it and put it away. Your body relaxed, all of the pent up energy inside of you calming a slight as the threat of so much danger lifted from you.
He slipped his hand around your throat and leaned into your ear again. "Such a good girl, crying for me" he husked in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."
You felt the head of his cock push between your folds, coating himself in your slick, and there was plenty to go around. He straightened his spine as he took a hold of your hips, just as rough as you were expecting, before he shoved his cock into you. You moaned loudly as the harsh drag of his cock invaded your cunt, stretching you out around him.
"Fuck," you cried, gripping the desk harder. He held you steady as he fucked into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust. The slick you'd gathered would have to do.
You clenched down on him, thighs aching and trembling and becoming too much already as the tears built in your eyes.
Chants and cries of "yes" and "more" and "harder" spilled from your mouth and into the air, a loud and filthy cacophony of blasphemous praise. He held you down and he held you still, dominating your body as your new god as he ruined you for any man.
"You want more? Sure you do, so desperate for a fuck," he taunted, his harsh words accompany the harsh smacks of his hips. It was loud and continuous and it felt so good. "Such a dirty little thing, filthy and twisted. You like having a gun to your head, you like me being mean to ya. Where's all that pride gone, eh?"
The tears streamed down your face, decorating you in a way that Tommy could only describe as "beautiful".
"That's right. Cry for me, little whore," he grunted.
You did. Your thighs hurt and your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the desk so hard, but you cried for him and the overwhelming pleasure, a depraved sound he fed from.
One of his hands left your hip to toy with your clit as he pressed his chest to your back. He bit the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, cruel and uncaring, before kissing the spot like an absent-minded apology. Your voice was raspy as he drew quick circles at your clit, chasing your next high as though it were unattainable.
And who knows? With Tommy, it might be.
"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, sir, more." He cursed under his breath.
That crashing high from before curled in your belly again, hot and searing, like molten lava. You shuddered when it erupted, squeezing around his cock as you nearly sobbed. "Ahh, fuck!" Your head went fuzzy at the sensations as you gushed around him, sucking him in tighter.
Tommy grunted, his hips stilling before he pulled out of you. You thought he was done, but he seemed far from it as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, lifting you from the table and turning. You thought he was heading for the sofa, instead he lowered you to the ground on your hands and knees, which shook with the aftershocks of an orgasm you were still recovering from.
He pressed down on your back, pushing you onto the floor so your hips were angled up. He grasped your waist, smacking your arse once and earning a cut-off shriek.
He steadied you before burying his cock in you once more, sighing from the warmth your body provided. You whimpered at the feeling so fresh after cumming, slowly adjusting to the pleasure as he fucked into you with the insistence of a starved man.
Once you settled into it again, you moaned into the sensitivity, easing the rock of his hips rubbing you against the floor with your palms planted on the wood. It was cold and hard but the way his cock brushed in and out of you was so electric that you didn't care.
"There we are," he said, guiding your hips quickly as he pulled you in against him. "Fucked on the ground where you belong. Don't you agree?"
You struggled with nodding—though you knew he wouldn't accept it anyway. "Yes, s– Ah!– sir." He rutted into you, his thrusts almost animalistic, and he kept on.
He leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.
"Good," mewled. "Feels good, sir."
"Yeah?" he asked, a particularly harsh slap making you whimper. "You want more, you pathetic whore?"
"Please, sir."
"So polite all of a sudden," he spoke breathlessly.
When he pulled out of you again, you thought you'd scream. But he eased you up to flip you onto your back, standing on his knees and staring down on you. You watched him unbutton his shirt, undoing each button one by one until he was able to shed it from his arms. You stared at the bare skin of his chest, taking in his tattoos, his muscles, the light patch of hair.
Grabbing you by your legs, he pulled you into his lap after leaning back. He set your legs over his shoulders once more, guiding himself back into you before he leaned forward. Your legs ached from being put in this position so much—but hell if you cared, because when he seated himself fully inside of you, the moan you left out was deep and guttural. He reached so much deeper than before, brushing a spot inside of you that set your body ablaze.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hips snapped into yours. His thrusts were shorter in this position, grinding into you and brushing that spot over and over and over again. You whined and moaned through every moment of it, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.
Your hand splayed out over his cheek as you tilted his head toward your face, wanting to watch him as he fucked into you. His eyes gazed at you, the intimidation from before not quite as cruel as it melted into the intimacy of the moment. His forehead pressed against yours and you breathed in each other's air as he shoved your hips together.
The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you were intoxicating, filling the air with a filthy cadence that mixed with the carnal pleas on your tongue and the raucous groans on his.
"Look at you," he said, planting his hand next to your head once more as the other held your hips up for the right angle. "So desperate, pathetically beautiful."
You gave him a drunk smile, looking between his eyes and lips. "You think… I'm beautiful?"
He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, shutting you up with a rough thrust. Your head fell back and exposed your neck, which he graciously nipped between his teeth.
You yelped when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit again, sinking into a breathy moan as you looked between your bodies to see it. You looked back up at Tommy, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body, succumbing to his touch.
"Fuck," you breathed, clenching around him at the feeling of your aching clit being stimulated again. You weren't sure you could cum again, but to hell if you weren't going to try.
Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails took root in his shoulders, scraping down his flesh to find purchase for the overwhelming passion. The sound Tommy made was nearly a moan, which he covered with a hiss as he clenched his teeth.
You kissed him, lips bruising, teeth clicking, tongues flicking as you drank the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum again, sir."
He raised his brows, though his rhythm was wearing. "Oh, you think so, do you?"
You corrected yourself, kissing him again to add in your favour. "Please, sir, can I cum again?"
His grin was almost sinister as he regarded you. You were learning, and fast. His unsteady hips rocked you back and forth on the ground, and his breath was timed with each little thrust. You could tell he was going to lose it, so close to joining you as you encouraged him by clenching and squeezing, sucking him into your cunt and getting him addicted to it.
"Fuck, yes. Go on and cum for me, sweetheart," he groaned, giving you the permission you needed as the pleasure washed over you like a wave of fire.
Your back arched, your weak moan stuttered in your throat, and you couldn't help but utter his name as the ecstasy shook you. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan continued until it melted to helpless little whimpers which then dissolved into each breath.
Tommy buried his face in the crook of your neck when he came after you, growling in your ear and his muscles tensed under your hands. His hips rutted into you, sinking in nice and deep and putting you in a position that would have been fairly uncomfortable, had you not been so devoured by his deep fucking that you hardly even noticed. All you could feel was the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milked every drop.
Slowly, his muscles loosened and his grip on your hip let up. He sighed, a long, deep sigh that released the rest of his tension as he began to straighten his back again. You stopped him, wrapping your hand around the back of his head and pulling him down for one more kiss. This one was so soft, a slow kiss that rendered your body useless. Everything was limp and lazy as the tender kiss changed the entire dynamic of the night.
It lasted longer than it properly should have as you both came in for more, treasuring it, cherishing it, until it had to come to its imminent end. He pulled away from you, staring at your face for a moment longer before he sat up, pulling out of you and making you shudder from the sudden loss and the even more sudden chill.
You stayed on the floor as he walked toward his desk and tucked himself back into his underwear. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping down as you lacked the strength to stand. As Tommy picked up his case of cigarettes, he looked at you over his shoulder, still laying there. Your legs were still spread out, your pussy dripping with both your cum on display and your arms framing your head. You'd passed out.
Tommy rubbed his cigarette between his lips before he lit it. His eyes never left you as he took the first puff before discarding the light and walking over to you. He knelt, tucking his hand under you to take you into his arms and set you on the sofa. He readjusted your body, your legs closed and one of your arms covering your chest.
He stood there a moment. You looked peaceful as you slept—absolutely debauched with your messy hair, tear-stricken cheeks, and swollen lips—but peaceful. Your face nuzzled into the cushion, and your lips twitched with whatever was going on in your head.
It took more than he would like to admit not to brush the apple of your cheek as he cleared his throat quietly. He picked up his disregarded shirt and draped it over your shoulders before choosing to walk back to his desk. He sat down and sifted through some files he pulled from a drawer to busy himself.
He didn't keep track of how long you slept or how long he sat there. He hadn't realised when he dozed off, tired out from you and from work.
You stirred from your place on the couch, opening your eyes and wondering why the floor was so soft. It took a moment to remember where you were, why you were naked, and why your thighs were so sticky.
Taking a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose as you noticed the shirt over your body. You sat up slowly, pulling it to your chest and taking another deep breath. The scent made you dizzy, and you slipped it over your arms. The shirt was big on you, hanging low as you pulled it closed around your body.
Your body ached as you moved to stand, running a hand through your hair and stretching your sore limbs. Why were you so sore?
You took two steps, examining the floor and taking in all the clothes—scraps and fully intact—laying there, before you looked up and saw him. Tommy was passed out at his desk, bracing his face on his arms as he slept.
The events of that night flooded into your mind all at once and suddenly, everything made sense. You looked down at your dress of scraps again with a frown as you picked it up, rolling your eyes before using it to wipe away the cum glueing your legs together and discarding it back to the floor.
You padded over to Tommy, glancing over him and silently making your way to the window to peek behind the curtains. It was still dark out, so you hadn't slept long.
You returned to Tommy, lifting up his half-burnt cigarette and putting it out properly in the ashtray it was sitting in. You stared at him, watching him sleep.
You never thought the devil himself could ever look so peaceful.
You couldn't help yourself—you reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. You just wanted to see him a little clearer. In doing so, he woke. It wasn't a slow waking like yours. His was fast, nearly startled as his eyes opened and his sharp inhale shocked his senses. Before he could jolt up to his feet, his blue eyes found you and his dark brows almost convinced you that he despised you as he granted you a hard stare.
But his expression shifted at the sight of you, after he'd properly taken you in and recognized you. He blinked away and sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down before reaching for his case of cigarettes again.
He picked one out, rubbed it between his lips, and lit it up in silence. And, in silence, you took it from between his lips and set it between your own. He stared at you, lips parted and amused—though, you had to look closely to notice.
"Apologise."
You stared at him with a raised brow, blowing out a billowing breath of smoke. He was surprised you smoke.
He looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back again. "Alright, I'll bite," he said. "What for?"
You took another deep breath before moving it again, blowing it out before gesturing toward him with his cigarette. "You called me pathetic."
"You are pathetic."
"And you called me a whore."
"You are a whore."
"You called me a pathetic whore."
He opened his arms, shrugging as he watched you. You raised a brow and blew out some more smoke.
"Apologise."
You weren't harsh as you said it, and you didn't look particularly hurt. In fact, you looked like a fucking angel dressed in his shirt, smoking his cigarette, and demanding he apologise for something you so obviously enjoyed.
He gave in, smiling as he rolled his eyes. "I apologise for calling you a pathetic whore…even if you are a pathetic whore."
You watched him for a moment, considering whether you'd accept his apology.
"I also want you to apologise for pointing a gun at me. Twice. And then touching my fucking cunt with it."
"No." He said it so simply, so finally. There was no way you'd get him to budge. "You liked it too much."
You thought about that and shrugged. Fair enough.
"I also–"
"Shut up and come here," he said, turning toward you with his open legs and arms.
You smiled and stepped between them, letting him take hold of your waist—even if you were still sensitive there because you didn't want to give up the affection. You guided the cigarette back between his lips, your fingers pressing against them as you did. He smoked it before taking it out and staring at you, blowing the air out as he thought.
Tommy reached into his pocket, digging around to pull out a coin. He handed it to you, and you shook your head at him. "That's not funny," you mumbled, stifling a laugh.
"Congratulations, you're worth two pennies."
"Fuck you," you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I've already done that." You laughed again, shaking your head and ignoring the warmth in your belly.
You stared at him, rubbing the coin between your fingers as you toyed with it. He watched you think to yourself, biting your lip as your eyes so obviously flicked between his eyes and lips.
"Thank you, Tommy," you told him softly. "I needed this."
His smile faltered slightly as he continued to watch you. He sighed, unaware of his thumbs stroking patterns into your sides, "I didn't do it for you… but I'm happy to have helped."
You chuckled weakly, half-hearted. Looking down at the penny, you smiled slowly and held it up. "How about a wager?" His subtle amusement encouraged you.
"If it's heads…you get me a new dress because you ripped mine to shreds."
He let out a small scoff, shaking his head gently.
"And if it's tails…" you smiled. You lifted your leg, slipping into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands found your arse, pulling you forward so your bodies were flush against each other. Your eyes fluttered as his cock brushed your pussy, already exciting you for the probable future. You focused on him again, "...you fuck me again—this time naked."
He smiled and nodded his head. "Toss the coin, Miss Gold."
You licked your lips as you readied it between your thumb and finger. Your eyes locked for a moment between moments, drinking each other like forbidden wine. You flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent, you caught it, and you took a moment to close your eyes and hope before you let it show.
You couldn't hide your elation as you picked up the coin and showed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," you smiled. "Tails."
"A deal's a deal." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in, "I would've fucked you otherwise." He kissed you in a mix of the roughness and sweet tenderness from earlier.
Between breaks, you sighed heavily. "Thank God because I need you," you confessed, kissing him again.
You undid his pants once more, this time pushing them down his legs and finally ridding him of them. He let you wear his shirt, refraining from admitting just how much he liked seeing you wear it.
The kiss was a mess as you devoured one another. He rocked your hips in his lap and you moaned at the pressure as his cock spread your lips apart. "Fuck, this is gonna be a long night," you hummed.
"Shut up and ride my cock," he demanded, not nearly as harsh as before but just as breathless as you now.
You smiled. "Yes, sir."
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Actions Speak Louder | Pre-War!Tommy Shelby x Reader
Request: no - based off of this post by @thomashelbyswife
Pairing: pre-war!Tommy Shelby x reader
Summary: Tommy’s never one to say sorry…that doesn’t mean that he isn’t though.
Warnings: one bad word
Word Count: 1404
A/N: M, your headcannon immediately sparked this idea. I just had to write it. And I may have gotten a bit carried away. This is the fastest I’ve written something in a long time. Thank you so much for the inspiration!! I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)
I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!
Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!
Tommy knew he’d messed up the second he entered his bedroom to see (Y/N) standing at the bedside with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. The problem was he didn’t know what he’d done.
“Hey,” he tried, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she made sure he’d caught her look before she went about taking off her jewelry and getting ready for bed. Tommy frowned at her lack of response before he shut the door and walked over to her. He said her name in a soft voice, hoping that it would get her to turn.
She continued with what she was doing, not yet acknowledging him. Tommy sighed in response. He tipped his head to the side in thought, thinking of how he could get her to look at him. It wasn’t hard to notice that she was not happy with him. Words weren’t working, so maybe actions would.
He reached out and took hold of her hips, holding them for a second to test the waters. (Y/N) didn’t resoond. So he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him so that he could tuck his chin into the crook of her neck. “What’s wrong, love?” he queried, attempting to press his lips to her neck, but she titled away from him. This only added to his confusion.
“I can’t believe you, Tommy,” she huffed under her breath, dropping her hands to his firearms and applying pressure to them, hoping he’d get her hint and let go.
Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what her statement meant. Meanwhile she was still pushing down on his forearms. She held the pressure on them until he dropped them from her, allowing her to step away and finally turn to face him.
“What have I done?” he asked after a few moments had passed and his brain-wracking had turned up empty.
(Y/N) scoffed at his question, shaking her head at his answer. “Of course you wouldn’t have remembered.”
“Remembered what?” he was still lost. It only added to her irritation.
“You were supposed to come to dinner with my parents tonight. We were going to go over plans for the wedding. My father was going to give us some money towards it, but now he’s not so sure if he should be letting me marry you at all,” she filled him in on the commitment he’d forgotten while biting on the inside of her cheek in hopes that it’d stop her welled up tears from falling.
Tommy froze upon hearing what he’d missed. His jaw went slack as he wracked his brain in hopes that there’d be some sort of inkling of rememberance of the day’s plans, but there was nothing.
Anger was building up inside (Y/N) with each quiet second that passed. His silence was frustrating her, maybe even more so than his earlier absence was. “Do you have anything to say?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.
“I got caught up at the stables,” he told her, his answer making her scoff and look away as she rolled her eyes. Obviously it wasn’t enough to clear him of his wrongdoings.
Silence fell between them then. A couple beats passed before (Y/N) looked at him again, expectantly this time. It was obvious that she wanted something else from him. But Tommy wasn’t catching onto it. “That’s all you have to say?” she finally questioned him when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak unless spoken to.
“Love, I…” the words died on this lips as he then stepped back from her, turning to the armoire as he began undoing the buttons of his waistcoat.
Shock filled (Y/N)’s features as she glared at her fiancé’s back. What are you doing?! she screamed at him in her mind. But nothing was said as she watched him take the waistcoat off and drop the braces from his shoulders. He then worked on taking his boots off, kicking them to sit next to the wardrobe before he finally turned back around. (Y/N) was still glaring at him.
“Are you seri—” the exasperated question got caught in (Y/N)’s throat as Tommy cut the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her frame.
His hug was tight, and he swayed her from side to side as his arms stayed fastened around her waist despite her hands pressing against his shoulders.
“Tommy, you can’t just…whoa!” the direction of her statement changed as he spun them and dropped both of their bodies to the bed.
His arms unraveled from her waist as they were falling so that he wouldn’t crush her with his body weight. They moved up to trap her underneath him. He immediately tucked his face into her neck and began placing kisses to the skin he found there.
“Tommy,” she breathed as she tried to push him off of her, but to no avail. “Tom, you’re not being fair!” she shrieked as his lips connected with the sensitive spot on her neck; a spot that he knew all too well.
His kisses trailed up to her jaw and across her cheek before his lips found the corner of hers. The feeling was now driving (Y/N) wild, slowly making her forget what she’d been upset over as all of her senses became focused on his actions.
He pulled away just slightly so that he could look at her, his eyes traveling over her face; seeing that her look of frustration was slowly slipping away. “Fuck your father’s money. I’ll get what we need to pay for our wedding,” he told her before his lips matched hers, properly this time.
“I can’t believe you,” she breathed when they pulled away, biting on her lip to hide her smile as she took his cheeks into her hands, lifting his face further away from hers. Their eyes met and he cracked a smile, one that made her insides flutter. She tried to act angry, scrunching her nose and eyebrows in hopes that her true feelings didn’t show. Tommy found it adorable.
“What?” he asked her, reaching up to brush a piece of hair from her face.
“You’re trying to get yourself out of this,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Is it working?”
“No.”
Tommy pouted upon hearing her response, and he dropped his head against her chest, burying his face into her sternum and breathing in her intoxicating sent before he let out a whine.
That did (Y/N) in. She tried to hide it, but the shaking of her chest was a dead giveaway that she laughed at his actions. He clocked that immediately, his hands moving to her sides where her shirt had rode up so that he could brush his fingers against her sensitive skin. She shrieked at the feeling, squirming under him as she tried to get him to stop. Now her anger was the furthest thing from her mind.
His actions continued until she managed to grab his hands and remove them from her sides. She then lifted his face again, making him look at her once more as she tried with all of her might to keep a straight face. “You’re ridiculous, Thomas,” she told him, unable to stop the smirk from tugging one corner of her lips upwards.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked with raised eyebrows, waiting on bated breath for her answer. When it didn’t come right away, he jutted his bottom lip outwards, hoping that pouting might help.
(Y/N) sucked in a breath at the sight in front of her. She just couldn’t resist him when he was like this. Somehow, he’d managed to make her mood do a complete flip. His persistence was something that drew her to him, but it was times like these when she hated it. She wanted to stay angry at him, but she really couldn’t. Not when his lips were looking more kissable by the second.
“Hmm?” he asked her, getting antsy with each second she stayed quiet.
(Y/N) bit on her bottom lip, sending him one last glare before giving into him and mumbling a “yes”. Tommy couldn’t even celebrate. She didn’t give him time to. The second she spoke, she pulled his face to hers so that their lips could crash together. It wasn’t like he was going to dispute it though…her kiss told him everything he needed.
Read Part 2 -> HERE
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Oh, professor - modern!Tommy Shelby (smut)
Another piece written with lovely @zablife – it's always great fun with you, babe. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: What happens when you spend a mind-blowing night with a man you thought you'd never see again? What happens when that man turns up at your class as one of your students? Will you be able to let him and your shared memories go or will he find a way to keep you close?
Warnings: 18+, lots of smut, piv, power play, age gap, professor x student relationship
Pairing: Professor!fem!reader x student!Tommy Shelby (6k words)
moodboard by @zablife
The room was dark, well almost, no light flooded through the bedroom besides the light of the streetlamps breaking through the dark curtains, casting a bright shadow. A shadow you probably would have paid more attention to if it weren’t for the position you had been willingly forced into, cheek pressed to a soft pillow, hips raised off the mattress.
Your moans echoed through his bedroom, loud enough to wake any nearby neighbours, forcing heat to rise in their systems at the almost pornographic sounds. The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs, of sweaty bodies searching one another’s closeness for the third time that night.
Your mind was too hazy to remember how you had managed to end up in the apartment of a stranger, a man you had flirted with from the second you had run into one another at your go-to bar, drawing you away from your group of friends. Perhaps it had been the fault of his bright eyes, piercing pupils that had burned holes into your warm skin; perhaps it had been the fault of the charming accent that had shot tingles down your spine; but perhaps it had simply been the fault of the way he had stared at you, marvelled even, as if you were the finest creation known to humankind.
Even though you weren’t one for going home with men you barely knew, hell, you barely left your home at all, fully focused on the courses you were teaching, and on the papers you had to grade, this man had something different to him, something you didn’t want to let go of again. You weren’t one for distractions, and kept your focus on your work, the one thing you loved wholeheartedly. But there had been something about the man who was at least twenty years older than you, hair graced by greyish specks that had drawn your attention to him from the first moment.
“Look at you, close to cumming again, aren’t you, love?” His raspy voice filled the bedroom, no longer could you reply, at least not verbally, opting to moan his name with your eyes squeezed shut. Tommy had his hand buried in your hair, keeping your cheek pressed to the pillow as he fucked you ruthlessly, already knowing your body better than any ex-boyfriend after years of being together.
“Talk to me, let me hear that pretty voice of yours.” You struggled to fight through the hazy fog of lust his touch forced to spread out through your system, heart chasing uneven beats with your hands fisting the covers all too tightly. A few more moans clawed through you, mind racing to try and pierce some words together, anything, to give the man what he was asking of you.
“Fuck, Tommy, ‘m so close, so so close.” An almost gleeful chuckle left the man who momentarily tightened his grip on your waist, forcing his cock even deeper into your tightness. Your walls had a tight grip on him, unable to hold on for much longer. Without even having to ask him to, Tommy’s hand wandered from your waist to your pulsing overstimulated bundle, circling it with his lips pulled into a devilish smirk.
With his name leaving your swollen lips like a prayer spoken on a Sunday morning, you came on his cock, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. But he didn’t stop fucking you, fully focused on his own high now that yours had been pushed through you once again, allowing him to use your body. The gritty sounds leaving him left you grinning proudly, face painted by a blissful expression.
He came a few moments after you, pulling out to get rid of yet another condom before he found his way back to you, pulling you in for a slow kiss, “I think it’s finally time for a bath, eh? Don’t want you passing out on me before we get you cleaned up.”
……
You hurried past the row of old oaks, eyes squinting slightly at the bright sunshine flashing sharply through the branches. The clacking of your heels against the stone added to the pounding in your head and you could only hope it would cease before class began. As you entered through the heavy double doors, you shifted the strap of your bag and rummaged inside for the paracetamol you stashed in case of emergency.
The building was already bustling with activity, the noise of overlapping conversations echoing off the domed ceiling. Preoccupied by your continuing search for something to stop the pain behind your eyes, you collided with someone’s shoulder. As your head jerked up in surprise, you found your colleague, Charlotte, wobbling slightly in an attempt to balance her coffee cup. Reaching out to help her, you quickly apologized. “Sorry, my fault!”
“It’s alright, I should know better than to wander the halls this late in the morning. It’s bloody chaos,” she chuckled.
Furrowing her brow at you she asked, “What are you doing out here? You’re always two hours early the first day!”
Her look of concern soon turned to impish delight when she noticed the medicine bottle in your hand. Her eyebrow arched as she leaned in conspiratorially, “Took my advice and had some fun for a change?”
You hesitated for a moment before a grin began tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I might have,” you teased.
A little gasp escaped her lips as she exclaimed, “I knew it!”
Biting your lip at the memory of the evening before, you added, “He was incredible, Char. Even if I never see him again, it was…really something.”
“Tell me everything,” she continued excitedly, nearly tripping over her own feet to keep with you as you resumed your brisk walk.
You shook your head gently, trying to retain a shred of professionalism. “Not within earshot of the roomful of students I’ll be teaching for the next four months,” you laughed as you came to a stop outside the lecture hall.
“Alright, but I want to hear about this later!” She called after you as you gave the door a nudge with your shoulder.
“Yeah, we’ll have lunch,” you promised, turning your attention toward the sea of faces awaiting you.
Normally you would have arrived before anyone else, papers stacked neatly and laptop open and waiting. Your first year you even practiced a few greetings, nervous that your voice might tremble in a decided lack of authority. As the youngest professor on the faculty, you still felt the roots of anxiety burrowing inside your stomach at times, especially as you awaited the inevitable test from one entitled little shit or another. You found yourself having to work twice as hard as your colleagues to be taken seriously.
Tossing your bag onto a chair, you tried not to think of the few who might cause you problems and focus on the scores of others who were there to learn. Ready to get to work, you quickly began twisting your hair into a top knot and mentally reviewed what you’d like to cover first. When you were ready, you walked to the front of the room and introduced yourself in the prepared speech you were accustomed to, including all pertinent information to the class. You watched as heads bowed and arms shifted occasionally, the gentle whisper of keys tapping out notes. When you’d finished, you asked for questions, receiving only the shuffle of feet and a few scattered coughs in reply.
In the moment of stillness, you found your thoughts wandering with the particles of dust dancing in the light. Suddenly your mind was as clouded as your field of vision, imagining the trickle of sweat between your breasts, slick against Tommy’s chest as you glided over him. You swallowed hard imagining his strong hands trailing your skin as you felt goosebumps begin to prickle the back of your neck and forearms. Chin raised to his sapphire blue eyes, you swore you could see him smiling back at you now with that same satisfied grin he wore when you fell apart beneath him.
“Professor Y/l/n?” A girl in the front row called to you, snapping you back to reality. You attempted to focus on her question, but your eyes darted to a place beyond her right shoulder uncooperatively. The profile and hair were so familiar, it was distracting. Then as the students in front parted slightly, you inhaled sharply. Taken aback, you stuttered out the last few words of your sentence in embarrassingly inarticulate speech, too overcome by the sight of the man you’d been daydreaming about moments earlier. You hadn’t imagined the intensity of his blue eyes. Tommy was actually here!
You struggled to comprehend it. Was he a student? He hadn’t mentioned university studies. Could he be following you? That’s ridiculous, you chided yourself. If he was a student, you certainly wouldn’t be able to have sex with him again. Oh, but he looked amazing in that blue jumper that matched his eyes. There were far too many thoughts to process at once and the headache from before was only intensifying. You quickly dismissed class and gathered your things, slipping between the throng of people exiting.
…..
Y/n,
I tried to find you after class and lost you in the crowd. You weren’t in your office so I assumed this was the best way to contact you. Can I see you again?
Tommy Shelby
You closed the email-app, biting the inside of your cheek. He’d clearly been thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him, but you still weren’t sure how to proceed considering how little you knew about him. So you did what any curious woman in your position would do. You googled him.
Sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a glass of wine in one hand and your phone in the other, you scrolled until you’d learned as much about Thomas Michael Shelby as possible. The results were impressive, to say the least, from his countless business ventures to his myriad of titles. Without realizing, you’d lost an hour to image searches alone of him in tuxedos at fancy galas thrown by influential figures. He was a man who could have anything or anyone he wanted. Brow furrowed in concentration, you wondered what he was doing in your advanced seminar on Dante’s work. There was only one way to find out.
Mr. Shelby,
I apologize you were unable to reach me on the first day, but as my syllabus states, office hours do not begin until next week. I’m available to meet Monday if you have any questions.
Prof Y/l/n
……
Your eyes glanced at the wall clock one last time before giving up all hope Tommy would appear. Not that you blamed him for losing interest. Your email was overly formal and you winced every time you read it, but it had to remain professional.
Reluctantly rising from your desk, you stretched and gave a long, disappointed sigh. “Doesn’t matter” you mumbled as you locked the office door and turned to leave. The moment your shoulder swiveled left, you collided into the toned planes of a man’s chest and strong arms instinctively caged yours to steady you.
“Mr. Shelby,” you exclaimed with more than a bit of shock tinging your voice.
“Y/n,” he hummed, bending down to retrieve the bag you dropped. Extending it toward you, he quirked an eyebrow as he asked, “May I ask why it’s Mr. Shelby now? Didn’t know you fancied a bit of role-play or am I forgetting something about our evening together?” An amused smirk painted his handsome features at his little joke, eyes dancing with mischief.
You accepted your bag, cheeks growing hot as you retorted, “I could ask you the same of you, hitting on your teacher.” Then you added cautiously, “I should warn you that it’s against the rules for me to see you now that you’re enrolled in my class.” Beginning your walk toward the stairs, you slowed your gait as Tommy huffed out a laugh.
“Ah, so that’s it. I’ve been a naughty pupil,” he exclaimed. Capturing your elbow in a gentle grasp he turned you to face him as he pondered seductively, “What will you do with me now?”
“Can I ask you a question?” you prodded, considering him with a serious expression. Tommy’s face soon mirrored yours as he realized you weren’t playing his game and his hand dropped from your arm. “Why did you seek me out here? I did a bit of research on you, you know,” you revealed. “You have to admit it looks a bit odd, a king of import/export taking a class in poetry?” you wondered aloud.
Tommy closed the gap between you, an earnest look taking hold as he spoke. “Beauty awakens the soul to act,” he said, holding your gaze with those insufferably clear blue eyes.
“You’re here so the beauty of the written word should uplift you?” you asked doubtfully, tilting your head at him.
His large hand cupped your face as he drew nearer. “I think we both know the real reason I’m here,” he whispered, leaning toward you until you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. “I want you,” he said with the certainty of a man who always has the coin land in his favor.
You pressed your palms against his broad chest, heart pounding wildly at the closeness of him. “I could get into a lot of trouble for this,” you reminded him breathlessly.
“Only if we get caught,” he countered, hand slipping down your side to grasp your hip firmly. “Don’t you want to live a little?” he prodded with a squeeze.
Your head was spinning as you fought the overwhelming desire threatening to consume you. “Yes…and I want you too…but…,” you protested half heartedly.
“Then that’s all I need to hear,” he said as his hand dipped beneath your skirt to push your underwear aside. You gasped at the feeling of the cool air and the lazy swipe of his finger through your wet folds.
“You’re soaking,” he hummed against your open mouth with satisfaction, plunging two thick fingers into your inviting warmth. He quickly swallowed your wanton moan with a deep kiss and you melted into him without hesitation, any thought of further denial dying on your lips. He licked into your mouth with ravenous appetite, fighting you for dominance in a way that made his cock twitch. As your hips began rutting against his palm for the pleasure you knew he could provide, he praised your eagerness. “Take what you need,” he urged against the shell of your ear.
But the clicking of heels and the echo of voices descending the stairs soon drew your attention. As they came nearer to your position, Tommy maneuvered you into the shadows of the stairwell away from their view and kept you pressed impossibly close.
For a moment you thought you were safe, Tommy returning to his ministrations. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thrill of him rolling your swollen clit beneath his thumb while he nipped and sucked at your exposed throat. It was a dangerous move, however, a guttural cry escaping your lips despite your attempt to suppress it.
Suddenly a man’s voice asked, “Did you hear something?”
You stopped breathing momentarily as you pressed your face into Tommy’s neck, his digits still pressed tantalizingly against your g-spot.
“I don’t think so, Howard,” a woman replied, hand sliding down the bannister so close to your head you could smell her perfume.
You gulped harshly as Tommy withdrew from you, leaving you clenching around nothing. He brought his slick fingers to his mouth and you panted at the sight of him relishing the taste of you. With a wink, he disappeared quickly out the side door as you attempted to make yourself presentable again.
Moments later your colleagues found you patting your hair down and adjusting your bag in frenzied, awkwardness.
“Professor Y/l/n, we were just talking about the upcoming welcome dinner,” Dr. Baker said with a warm smile. He prattled on, oblivious to your eyes darting over his shoulder to watch Tommy sauntering across the courtyard. Turning to glance back at you, you noticed he was still lazily sucking his fingers. The obvious delight in the curl of his sinful lips caused your thighs to clench and your clit to throb, the overwhelming need to finish what you began frustrating you beyond belief. Your skin felt as though it had been set ablaze, thighs rubbing together unconsciously as you watched him fade from view.
“…fingers,” Dr. Baker finished, looking at you inquisitively and you realized you’d missed what came before that. Had he seen Tommy’s lewd display as well?
“Excuse me?” you asked, paranoia chilling the warmth in your cheeks like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head.
“I said my wife will bring her signature dessert, ladyfingers,” he repeated.
“Yes, of course! I’m looking forward to it very much,” you agreed with an overly enthusiastic smile. Then you excused yourself home.
……
Ever since that moment with Tommy, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from wrecking your head about the what ifs racing through your mind. Even though your night with Tommy had been something you had never experienced before, you couldn’t risk losing your position within the university, especially not for a situation like this. But no matter how hard you tried to shake these thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the welcome dinner you were about to join, the thoughts of him seemed to follow you around like a shadow sewn to your boots.
Familiar faces smiled at you as you stepped into the room, hand stroking down the soft fabric of your dress to try and collect yourself, putting on your best smile. This evening was all about making an impression, all about crossing paths with those that were important for your career, hoping to leave them impressed about your determination, your work drive.
“(Y/n)! There you are.” Charlotte’s voice left you smiling, a sincere smile that wasn’t as fake as the one you had worn just a minute ago. She pulled you in for a short hug before you greeted some other colleagues standing close. “Did you see Lizzie? The things I’d do for the man she brought as her date are unspeakable.”
The words Charlotte whispered towards you left you chuckling, at least as your gaze kept combing through the crowd of colleagues, trying to find Lizzie’s face. You had never been the biggest fan of her, not of her personality, not of her way of teaching, trying to keep a friendly though respected distance to her. But your laugh got stuck in your throat as your eyes found the piercing ones of her date – Tommy fucking Shelby.
Charlotte must have picked up on the way you grew tense, mistaking it for interest in the handsome man making his way towards your small group, arm wrapped around Lizzie’s waist. Your breath hitched in your chest the second the scent of his expensive cologne clashed against your front like a tidal wave set on drowning you, a scent that instantly reminded you of the way he had fucked you in his bedroom, how he had marked you as if you were only his to love.
“May I introduce you to my date, Tommy Shelby.” Lizzie kept on introducing Tommy to the other colleagues, blissfully unaware of the way his gaze kept wandering back to you, sporting an unmistakable smirk on his lips. Heat rose to your face as Lizzie finally turned towards you, about to speak your name, though interrupted by the murmur of your name rolling off Tommy’s tongue.
“Professor Y/l/n, it’s good to see you again.” His hand found yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand, a gesture that left you breathless; a gesture that left Lizzie visibly seething.
“Mister Shelby.” You nodded at him, suddenly feeling all too uncomfortable with all eyes focusing on you, wondering where you knew the man from. Just for the sake of dethroning Lizzie, not wanting to endure the arrogant smile she wore, you debated telling them of your escapades with the man – yet these were all too intimate, not daring to leave your painted lips. “Mister Shelby joined my class for this semester.”
Your eyes wandered through your small group, explaining the short interaction to the others, trying not to spare the grin Charlotte now wore any of your attention. You’d deal with her later, letting her in on the reasons for the tension growing between you, Tommy, and Lizzie. Before either one could speak another sentence, you were interrupted by the voice of the dean hallowing through the room.
“May I ask for your attention? It’s so good to see so many of you here tonight!!” The woman kept speaking, staring at the crowd with a smile so bright you feared for the way the corners of her mouth would start burning soon. But the second you felt a hand on the small of your back, you shifted your attention away from her, eyes finding Tommy’s, even in the darkness you were now engulfed by.
“Meet me in the hallway in thirty minutes.”
……
“Come,” Tommy took your hand, eyes set ahead with his smirk still playing on his lips. For just a second you allowed yourself to take him in, to look at the lips you had kissed a while ago, already aching for his taste once again. Fuck you had it deep for the man, unable to tear yourself away, unable to shake the sensations he had pushed through your body.
“Where are we going?” Your whispers were left unanswered, Tommy opened a door for you, pushing you into the dark room before anybody else could see the two of you. He pressed you against the now closed door, lips finding yours in the dark. The moan that clawed through you was raspy, vibrating with lust, with a special kind of pleasure only he could make you feel.
“Fuck, wait.” You pushed him away, hands firmly placed on his chest, trying not to spare the feeling of his tense muscles beneath your fingers a thought. “What about Lizzie, your date?”
“Oh, love, I’m not interested in Lizzie, you know that.” The chuckles that rumbled through Tommy left you panting, not understanding why he was toying with Lizzie and with you. "I came because I knew I’d find you here, I needed to see you again.”
You didn’t get the chance to reply, shut up by his lips finding yours. The feeling of his fingers on your body was enough to distract you from your thoughts, keeping quiet, not wanting to interrupt the sensation once again. A fire was burning inside you, a fire so strong you feared Tommy would melt you, burned to the ground by his wandering hands and the smirk that could make the devil blush.
“I want to make you scream my name, let them hear who you belong to.” Tommy’s words left you moaning, eyes fluttering close as he kissed his way down your throat, hands disappearing beneath your dress. You were pulled closer, feeling his clothed, hardening cock against your damp panties. The pants that ripped through you left Tommy smirking against your skin, all too aware of the power he held over you. “But we wouldn’t want to risk your reputation.”
Tommy let go of you, feeling as if cold water had just been dumped over your burning body, instantly missing his touch. For a few seconds, he stared at you in the darkness before he dipped his head down once again, lips ghosting over yours, “Call me on your way home, and I’ll come to find you like I always will.”
“Fuck, Tommy, wait.” You couldn’t let him go, it felt as if you were burning, your body on fire from just a few simple touches. With your arms finding their way around his neck, you pulled him close once again. The kiss you pressed against his lips left your heart racing in excitement, moaning as Tommy moved you back. Within seconds you found yourself placed on top of a table, thighs pushed open by his wandering hands.
“You’re such a greedy girl, look at you, weeping for my touch, for my cock. We’ll have to be quick.” Another moan tore through you, eyes fluttering close as his warm breath clashed against your cunt. His tongue brushed your arousal-covered folds, groaning at the taste he had been thinking of ever since he had fucked you, a taste he thought of as Tommy fucked his hand to the thought of you at any given chance.
“Oh fuck, your mouth is deadly.” Tommy chuckled against your skin, eyes flickering up to your pleasure-drunken features. Two fingers were forced into your tightness, curling them against the spot that left you breathless. He knew exactly how to push you to your limits, knew exactly how to make you see the stars he had shown to you the last time he had fucked you ruthlessly.
“Fuck, you taste so sweet, love, I’ll never get enough of you.” Tommy was a starving man, a man who would claim you at any given chance. And you were his salvation, the rescue he had long given up on, the lifeline that would stop him from drowning in the darkness he had befriended years ago.
Your clit pulsed against his warm tongue, knowing that you’d cum any moment now. With your eyes set on Tommy, you covered your mouth, knowing that you couldn’t be silent, not when he fucked you with his fingers; not when he ate you out like no other man ever had. And as your head rolled back, eyes squeezed shut, Tommy pulled you even closer, pushing the awaited high through your trembling body.
Tommy kept fucking you with his fingers, smirking against your bundle of nerves as he watched you fall apart, only pulling away as a shaky exhale left you. Wordlessly, you pulled him in for one last kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.
“I’ll see you later, love, be a good girl and I’ll reward you later.”
……
An hour later, you fell out of the lift with a little giggle on your lips, Tommy’s strong arms catching you before you tripped. “Do have the entire floor?” you asked in amazement.
“The building actually,” he replied with no attempt at modesty. There hadn’t been much small talk during your first visit or you might have learned that. However, you did remember the incredible view, courtesy of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city.
The lights gleamed back at you in a glittering array of colors that seemed endless, much like the vast expanse of the room where you now stood.
“Well, you might have more real estate, but I certainly have more books,” you noted with a firm nod. Spinning in a tight circle, you looked at the near empty shelves around you. “Where do you keep yours?”
Tommy smirked at you as he came closer, hooking an arm around your waist as he answered your question with one of his own. “Would you like to see?”
You bit your lip and nodded in reply, feeling his hand wander down your backside with a gentle squeeze. Kicking off your heels, your feet glided along the polished hardwood to stop in the doorway of a home office. The room was much more inviting with tall shelves full of leather back volumes and photos.
“Take a look over there, professor.” He pointed over your shoulder, directing your gaze to a desk in the corner. Your eyebrows went up in shock as you approached and saw the assigned reading for your class open to the correct page.
As your fingers traced the familiar words, you felt Tommy’s warm breath upon your neck, “Do I get a gold star?” he asked, brushing the hair from your shoulder to replace it with a kiss.
“I’m impressed you know what we’re studying this week,” you admitted. Quirking your eyebrow at him playfully, you added, “But have you actually read it?”
You felt him smirk against your skin as he admitted, “I was hoping you’d give me a private lesson.”
Slightly distracted by the featherlight kisses he placed along the delicate skin from your ear to your throat. And even more so when they turned to gentle nips, you huffed out a little laugh. “Is that so?"
His only reply was the warmth of his palms, skating along the sides of your body. Fingers massaging deep, insistent circles into your hipbones and raising your dress up to your waist until he had revealed your ass to the cool air.
“I think you could be persuaded,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. The sight of dark lace coming into view caused his dick to twitch and he couldn’t resist reaching out to cup your warm heat, stroking along the gusset of your underwear. An impish grin spread across your face as you captured his hand suddenly.
“Alright then. My class, my rules,” you explained. Handing him the book, you instructed him to begin reading without stopping. Tommy’s brow furrowed slightly before noticing your hands had slipped to his belt, the jingle of the metal and the zip of his trousers the only sounds in the room.
“Well?” you prodded as you proceeded to undress him from the waist down. “Let me hear you,” you demanded with a peck to his lips.
Biting his lip as though he were trying to decide, Tommy complied the moment you sank to your knees. The first sentence boomed into the quiet space confidently as you reached for his already erect cock. However, his voice hitched slightly when your warm breath met his skin, even more so when your tongue darted out to lick the first glistening drops of precum.
“Oh, fuck…” he muttered, as you began licking up one side and down the other in slow, even strokes of your tongue.
“I don’t remember that part,” you joked as your hand closed over his length to begin pumping him gently. Tongue laving over him in tantalizing patterns, his voice grew shaky, a near whisper remaining of his commanding tone.
By the time you took him into your throat, he could barely think through the fog of pleasure. His head felt full of cotton and the words suddenly uncooperative when he attempted to recite them.
Releasing him with a wet pop, you placed a few open mouth kisses along his length to slow his desire and return his attention to the task. Then you asked sweetly, “Will you read a bit more?”
“M not sure,” he confessed with a shudder, composure slipping further as your thumb brushed over his sensitive tip.
“Go on,” you urged, fondling his balls and scratching lightly with your fingernails. Sucking on his reddened tip, you looked up through your lashes at him and swore you saw him suppress a whimper, but he attempted to continue.
Although he tried to control it, the clenching of his muscular thighs beneath your palm soon gave away his need for release and you set a devilish pace you knew he couldn’t resist. Releasing small staccato breaths, his hips jerked forward, hand clutching your hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself.
Tommy only managed two more words before his resolve snapped, pulling you from the floor and turning you to face the desk in one swift movement. You moaned as his large palm pressed against your back, bending you over the desk to rip your thong away. He kicked your legs apart to give himself greater access before entering you with one deep thrust.
A grunt of relief passed his lips as he held himself there to feel you pulse around him, savoring the tight grip of your pussy. The moment didn’t last long, the overwhelming urge to pound into you overtaking him. He quickly wound your hair in his hand before tugging you back to meet his first thrusts of raw need and your hands shot out for something to grasp hold of.
Gripping the edges of the desk tightly, you could hear the squelching sounds as Tommy drove into you relentlessly. Your own desperate pants were drowned out by the noise of skin slapping harshly as your body began to bounce back against him. The brutal pace he set lit a fire in your belly as he arrowed himself into you perfectly, hitting that sweet spot deep within.
Every drag of his cock against your sensitive walls pushing you to the brink, your body keening and arching in response. Tommy eventually slowed to watch you unravel. The pride in his voice evident as he mumbled lustfully, “Taking me so well.”
He reached forward to fondle the globe of your breast, rolling your pert nipple in his fingers and pinching to hear your sweet little gasps. The delicious combination sent sparks of pleasure zinging through your body, overwhelming your senses until you were flooded with euphoria.
Thighs beginning to shake from aftershocks, your hips dug further into the wooden desk as you collapsed forward in utter exhaustion. Tommy soon followed, hips stuttering against your backside before he pulled out. You whimpered at the loss of him just as you felt the warm spurts of his release against your ass. If not for Tommy cleaning you off and carrying you to bed, you might not have made it on your own.
It was certainly no surprise when the bright rays of the morning sun woke you instead of your alarm. Your evening of passion had once again made you late for work, but this time you decided to take a much deserved day off.
Rolling over to find your discarded purse, you rang Lizzie. As you thought of what to say, you gathered the sheet and wrapped it around you, walking as quietly as possible to the hall. When you heard her pick up on the other end of the line, you immediately began to ramble.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re in. Of course you are. Well…I…I have a small favor, Lizzie.” Not quite reaching the point before you felt something brush against your arm. You could hear her heavy sigh of annoyance just as you caught sight of Tommy, tugging at the corner of the sheet until he’d left you naked.
With an impish grin, he began kissing you, beginning at your temple. You bit your lip as you tried to concentrate on your call, asking if she might take over for you this morning.
“Yes, just the two classes this morning,” you confirmed as Tommy’s head began to dip lower, lips grazing your shoulder and then your breast. You stifled a squeal as his tongue swirled the pebbled flesh around your nipple and gave a sudden bite, apologizing to her as you explained. “No, I, uh…burned myself.”
Tommy frowned at you as you tried to bat him away. Seductively pushing you against the wall as you listened to Lizzie begin a list of her own demands. “Well, alright, but when you return I’ll expect a trade. If you could…”
Just then Tommy sunk to his knees, pushing your thighs apart and swiping his tongue through your folds before you could clamp your legs shut again. He sat back on his heels. “C’mon love,” he begged quietly.
“Is that a man's voice?” Lizzie asked sharply. Then with a gasp of recognition she said, “Tommy Shelby!”
“No, of course not. I have to go, Lizzie!” you rushed out in a single breath, hanging up before Tommy could open his mouth again.
“You’re going to get me fired!” you hissed at him playfully as he raised from the ground to kiss you good morning.
“They wouldn’t dare,” he promised, cool blue eyes shining back at you. You scrunched your nose at him skeptically, “And if they did?”
“You could be my tutor,” he offered as you broke into a fit of giggles. “I quite enjoyed last night’s lesson. In fact, I think I need another,” he began earnestly before his eyes crinkled with a mischievous grin. “Turns out I’m a terrible pupil. I have to study constantly,” he added with a dramatic shake of his head.
Then without warning, he scooped you up and hauled you back to bed as your shrieks of laughter echoed down the hall.
#Tommy Shelby smut#Tommy Shelby x reader#professor fic#Tommy Shelby imagine#Peaky Blinders smut#lee and chi at it again
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Tommy's Smile | m! reader
Date: 06.10.2022
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x m!reader
Reader’s pronouns: he/him
Words: 2.120
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Characters: m!reader, Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray, Ada Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Harry Fenton
Genre: Romance
Length: Oneshot
Warnings: Internalized homophobia, mention of war, mention of injury (nothing descriptive)
Requested: No
Prompts: No
Summary: Polly knows you and Tommy have been in love with each other for years, so she decides to take matters into her hands.
A/N: It's my first time writing for Peaky Blinders and with a male reader. I’m sorry for the requests still waiting in my inbox, my inspiration is all over the place.
English is not my first language so feel free to correct any mistake and I would love to know what you think about it. If you like my works, please like and reblog them. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I posted a List of prompts, so check it out! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my works.
IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM
Masterlist
Ao3
[ID: a gif of Tommy Shelby smiling. End ID]
After the war, everything had changed. The men that had come back weren't the ones that had left. They were haunted by nightmares; they drank a lot more and smiled a lot less, especially Tommy. He used to smile all the times, so bright every room would light up. Now, however, he rarely ever did. At first, Polly had even thought he wasn't smiling at all, but then she started noticing. The first time it happened was just after she had scolded him in his office. As she was leaving, you walked in and greeted her. She had almost missed the childish, amused smiles you and his nephew had exchanged then, so similar to those you used to share back when you were fifteen and you had managed to do something mischievous. From then on, she kept a close eye on the two of you, but you were too lost in each other to notice.
You had grown together. You would always play together and were joined at the hip since you were little kids. You were like a son to Polly. She and your mother used to joke about the fact that if they called one of you, both of you would appear. Polly was convinced you were two bodies sharing one soul. She was sure of it when you started to fall for each other without even knowing. You were young back then, and she thought you would have time to get your shit together and admit your love to the other, so she didn't say anything.
When Tommy announced his intention to volunteer for the war, she had looked at you, expecting you to join him, and you were already standing, looking at Tommy.
"I'm coming too," you had said, when what you really wanted to say was "I'm coming with you, I'll follow you anywhere, Tommy." The two of you had been so lost in each other's eyes that Polly was sure you didn't even hear when John and Arthur said they would come too. She had prayed for all of you that night and every night and day until the day you came back.
The day you had left, while the women and little Finn hugged the Shelby brothers, Polly had taken you to the side at the train station to ask you to take care of Tommy, and taking care of him you did.
In France, you didn't let anyone come between you. A month in and every officer knew you two weren't to be separated. You would make sure Tommy was eating and would share cigarette after cigarette with him when he couldn't sleep. You still gave him reasons to smile. And you saved his life.
You were shoving him out of the way before even realizing what was happening. You didn't die that day in Tommy's arms, but it did change your life. As you were hit by the bullet aimed at Tommy, he was hit with the realization that life was too short to spend the entirety of it trying to ignore his feelings for you.
He didn't listen to any of the people who told him he couldn't stay by your side the whole time you spent in the hospital. He was finally left alone when John and Arthur convinced one of the officers that he would be of no use on the field if you weren't there by his side.
When you woke up in the middle of the night after the surgery, Tommy was there. And hidden by the dark, he kissed you for the first time.
Keeping your relationship hidden when living in such close quarters with so many people hadn't been easy. Coming home had meant you could finally kiss and hug and fuck. Nobody knew about your relationship, but you didn't mind and you understood why Tommy didn't want anyone to know. You respected that but dreaded the day people would start to get suspicious and he would have to marry some girl to avoid the rumours.
You had no idea someone suspected of your relationship, but Polly noticed it all: smiles, fleeting touches, glances, winks. She never thought she would see his nephew wink or you blush like that. You were Tommy's smile. You clearly made him happy. So she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that her nephew had yet to make a move on you. It seemed like her intervention was needed.
It was the end of the day. You were sitting on Tommy's desk, laughing at something he had said. He was lounging back in his chair, relaxed as he could only be around you. A cigarette was being passed between the two of you.
Polly barged into the office. You jumped up from your spot and Tommy straightened in his chair.
"Thomas, a word," she demanded, barely acknowledging your presence.
"I'll see you later at the Garrison," you said quickly to Tommy, before disappearing quickly out of the door without even waiting to see him nod.
You were always included in family meetings, and your opinions were held in high consideration, but you didn't want to intrude on Tommy's relationship with his aunt, not when Polly was like that.
Tommy's eyebrows arched as he watched Polly carefully, trying to understand what had gotten in her this time. He slowly killed his cigarette in the ashtray.
"Polly," he started cautiously, but before he could continue, his aunt spoke.
"When are you going to put an end to this foolishness, Thomas?"
Tommy's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about, Pol?" he asked, trying to sound more nonchalant than he felt. He leaned forward a bit. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, bracing for the impact. He knew the moment would come, sooner or later, when he would have to choose between you and his family. But the time was here and he wasn't ready. He would never be.
"Don't play dumb, Thomas, you know what I'm talking about... This," she gestured to intend the relationship between the two of you.
"I don't follow," he said.
He took a cigarette from the case you had given him before the war. It had seen everything you two had gone through. He stroked the cigarette on his lips before setting it between them. The motion always made you weak. He lit it up to keep himself busy and try to calm down. There was no way she could know. she had to be talking about something else.
"You two are grown men. I didn't say anything when you were young. I thought you just needed time to figure things out, but it's been a while and nothing has changed."
He slowly exhaled the smoke, giving up all hope she could be talking about anything else. "How long have you known?"
"Years. You were sixteen and no matter how many girls tried to win you over, you only had time and eyes for him."
"He was my best friend!" he spitted through gritted teeth.
"One day, after you had spent the whole afternoon together in your room doing God knows what, you came to me and asked what was the difference between friendship and love, Thomas. Do you remember?"
He nodded slowly and cursed himself. If Polly knew, other people might find out. You were in danger. He needed to make sure you were safe, and then he would think about Polly.
Before he could spiral, Polly spoke again. "When will you grow a pair and just tell him you love him?"
He was surprised, to say the least. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him. "I know you are afraid people won't respect you anymore if they find out or that someone will try to hurt him to get to you. All I'm saying is you can be open with your own family, Tommy. He deserves this, and you do too."
He closed his mouth, then opened it again. "What if Arthur tells someone when he is drunk, eh? What if little Finn goes around telling someone thinking it's no big deal?"
Polly shook her head and smiled gently. "Do you really think you can hide that forever? With the way you look at each other? I don't think so, Tom."
She turned to leave, but before she could, Tommy's voice stopped her in her tracks. "Is this your way to say you approve?" he asked.
She looked at her nephew and for a moment she saw the sixteen years old he once was, with those big blue eyes, that were your damnation, wide, looking for approval. She smiled and left.
That was a lot and completely unexpected. Tommy fell back into his chair and ran a hand over his face.
When he walked into the Garrison, Polly was already there, sipping a whisky at the counter. He nodded at Harry to have his whisky in the private room. He didn't notice you sitting at a secluded table, uncomfortably close to a girl John had introduced to you upon your arrival. However, when he saw you weren't in the little room with his brothers, he panicked, already expecting the worst.
"Where is he?" he demanded. His brothers stopped laughing at something, to look at him confused and worried. "Who?" Arthur cautiously asked, irritating Tommy further.
"Your lover is sitting on the other side of the room with a girl your brothers so kindly introduced to him," Ada piped up from her spot, a fake smile on her face and her arms crossed. Her eyes bore into him. She knew too. Damn, the women of that family.
Arthur and John's faces were comically confused.
Tommy stormed out of the room and spotted you. Your head snapped up when you heard the door bang open. Your eyes widened as he made his way over to you with long steps. He looked unstoppable and scary. That was probably what anyone else saw when they laid their eyes on Tommy Shelby. Everyone was looking at him, trying to understand what was going on. Harry winced behind the bar, already picturing the place after the fight that would very likely take place there in a matter of minutes.
Ada, John and Arthur had followed their brother out of the room and had stopped at the door to see what would happen.
He came to a stop in front of you.
"Tommy," you uttered, trying to find the words to explain the situation. You had tried to convince John that you didn't need help finding a girl, but Shelbys would never take no for an answer.
"Mister Shelby," a sickly sweet and flirty voice interrupted the staring contest. The girl next to you leaned forward to introduce herself to your boyfriend, whose complete attention was on you. He pushed her back into her chair. She let out an outraged cry, but he ignored her in favour of grabbing the front of the suit you were wearing, one you had bought together, and pulled you into a kiss. You didn't hear the gasps and murmurs coming from around you. You relaxed and your hands fell to his hips. You kissed him back until you both needed to breathe. You gave him the brightest smile, winning one back.
He wrapped an arm around your hips and turned towards the onlookers.
"This man is mine, and if any of you fuckers tries to take him away from me or says something nasty about him, I'll cut you personally."
The room was so silent you were sure you could have heard a pin drop.
"By order of the Peaky fookin' Blinders!" Arthur roared from the other end of the room.
Polly and Ada smiled.
"Fucking finally, Tom!" John chimed in, grinning. And just like that, the tension in the room dispersed.
"Harry, open that bottle of champagne!" Arthur boomed, making Tommy laugh. You loved seeing him so happy and carefree. You promised yourself you would do everything you could to make sure he would always be like that.
You two made your way over to the private room to join the other Shelbys on the celebration. John patted your back. "Welcome to the family."
"Are you implying I wasn't part of it before?" you asked, pretending to be offended.
"No, of course not, you know..."
"Relax, Johnny boy, I'm just messing with you." You pulled his cap down his face, making Ada laugh.
She pulled you into a hug.
Tommy and Polly observed the exchange amused. "You were wrong about one thing," Tommy told her. His eyes didn't leave you.
"What's that?"
"We've been together for some years now."
She looked at him surprised. "Thomas Michael Shelby, you..." She slapped his arm, making him laugh.
"Let's make a toast," Arthur said, after filling the glasses and handing them around. Tommy wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.
"To Tommy finally getting his shit together." Ada raised her glass and you laughed.
Tommy kissed your temple.
#spettrocoli writes#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x male reader#tommy shelby x m!reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#reader insert#reader is male#male!reader#peaky blinders#polly gray#arthur shelby#john shelby#ada shelby#peaky fookin blinders#reader imagine#cillian murphy#cillian x reader#cillian x y/n#tommy shelby#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy thomas shelby#thomas shelby#bbc#bbc shows#peakywomen#tom shelby#thomas michael shelby#peaky blinders fandom
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Because of you
Modern Tommy Shelby x reader
🎉 @runnning-outof-time I write this little fluffy piece for your celebration! Hope you like this! Congratulations on 4K followers, and also thank you for your kindness, your constant content -which I’m trying to catch up on-, and your little sweet and cheerful messages K! 💖 I’m particularly grateful for your presence in this fandom (the very first blog I remember following and following me back!)
Last but not least, thank you @justrainandcoffee for the absolutely beautiful moodboard!!!!!!! ♥️✨ It’s everything I imagined and even more ✨
A/N: Keep reading until the end, you’ll find a recipe in case this story makes you go hungry 🤭 because in this blog we share photos and recipes, whatever you want 😉 I couldn’t help it but add the grandma element in this one (Grandma’s series) and a little baby fever 👀 @forbidden-forest-witch
Word count: 2,308
“Alright Polly, I’ll deal with the contracts tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks, Ada should be sending you the papers.”
“Enjoy the rest of your holiday already, bye.” He added but didn’t hang up. He heard her laughing at the other end of the line. “For good, have some fucking rest.”
She was just like him, refused to take days off, now she was finally about to embark into a cruise around the Mediterranean.
“Are you home yet?” She asked.
“Yeah, just want to take a bath and go to sleep.” But that was so unlikely since both his children were home for the weekend.
“Give Y/N and the kids a kiss from me.” Polly requested and finally hung up.
Getting a phone call from an known number, Tommy decided he was done for the day, so pressing the red button, he walked into his apartment and immediately the voices coming from the kitchen caught his attention.
Genuine, loud laughs filled the hall and he recognized the unmistakable song in the background.
“I want the pink M&M’s!” Shouted Ruby.
“Why do you like everything that’s pink?” Charlie questioned as Tommy left his keys and wallet by the table.
“Because…” his daughter’s voice mumbled something he didn’t understand. “Y/N can you spin me around again, pleeeease?”
Tommy was about to interrupt the scene going on the kitchen, but he stopped midway as Y/N turned around and leaned forward, Ruby wrapped her arms and legs from behind while Y/N held her feet and slowly twirled around. Making his daughter giggle uncontrollably, her hair flowing.
“Okay now go back to your chair because you’re making the baby twirl inside too.” Y/N joked.
“I don’t know how you do it, when I was pregnant all I could was throw up. You need to take it easy.” Her mother asked in a worried tone.
“Mom I’m fine, besides the baby really wants a slice.” Then, looking at Charlie, she gasped. “Oh Charlie we don’t lick the spatula,” she told him in a calm tone, but it was too late he was done decorating his slice and now half his face was covered in chocolate, “well, what’s a few germs between friends huh?”
As the kids started giggling, she noticed Tommy standing by the door.
She was wearing a black tight dress that looked like a second skin on her, wrapping every curve perfectly and also showing his favorite new feature; the baby bump fully on display. Her hair free, wild long waves covered her back. A few bracelets hanging from her wrist, the Cartier watch he gave her for their first anniversary and her signature smile that took his breath away.
“I didn’t hear you,” wiping her hands with a cloth, she approached her husband. “Missed you.”
His hands wrapped around her back immediately as their lips connected. She tasted like cheesecake and strawberries.
“I missed you too.” He whispered and crunching down, he planted a kiss on her swollen belly. “How’s my little one, eh?”
“Starving and wriggling around.” Y/N answered as Tommy went for another kiss, this time on her lips.
“Eww, dad.” Charlie complained. Embarrassed by their affection.
Ignoring his son’s complain, he went to kiss Ruby on the cheek and then kissed Charlie as well, ruffling his blonde hair in the process.
“Hello Lisa, how are you doing?”
“Trying to make Y/N sit, but she won’t listen to me.” His mother in law welcomed him with a hug.
“Yeah, I deal with that on a daily basis.” He winked at her playfully.
“Hello? I’m standing right here!” Y/N waved at them.
“Oh!” Tommy made an innocent face. “Right, well I didn’t say anything.”
Ruby laughed. “Look Dad! Y/N had some crampings and we made a cheesecake!”
“I think she means cravings right?” He asked Y/N in a low voice, making his wife smile. “We? Are you sure you baked that?”
“Weeeeell Y/N and grandma baked it, but we decorated it!” She defended.
“And we made all slices with different topings.” Added Charlie.
Tommy’s heart melted as he heard his daughter call Y/N’s mother grandma, she and Polly were the closest his kids had.
He had lost his mother a long time ago, but once Y/N stepped into his life everything changed. Lonely nights were filled with love, long and deep talks. Actually, thanks to her, Tommy started to spend quality time with his children; Charlie and Ruby, driving them or picking them up from school, arranging plans on the weekends, even taking them both on holidays.
And Lisa welcomed not only him into her family lovingly, but both his kids as if they were her biological grandchildren.
“So which one is for me?” He asked after clearing his throat, he tried to hide his emotions, but Y/N could read him like an open book and a moment later he felt her hand on his back and her head on his shoulder. “These all look great.”
He spied on the slices with several options.
“Y/N said chocolate marble is your favorite.” Ruby gave him a serious stare.
“That’s about right.” He nodded profusely in her direction, then looking at his mother in law, he asked her; “I hope they didn’t give you loads of work.”
“None of that, they’re amazing kids.” Lisa beamed.
A groan came from the fridge, Tommy went immediately after Y/N worried.
“What is it?”
“We were going to put the pizza in the oven, but I can’t stand the smell.” She made a face.
Tommy decided to check the food, it had been in the freezer but it might be bad.
“This doesn’t smell, Y/N.”
“I just don’t want pizza anymore.” She pouted.
And in that very same moment, Tommy understood this was one of those mood swings caused by the pregnancy. A careful smile spread on his lips as his hands caressed her bump gently.
“Okay, so what do you want for dinner instead?”
By the corner of his eye, he saw his mother in law trying to suppress a giggle, luckily the children were busy with the cheesecake.
“We want tacos.” Y/N batted her eyelashes as she ran one of her hands over her stomach.
“Alright everybody,” he clapped his hands and looked at Charlie and Ruby, “go wash your hands then you’re going to help me prepare some tacos.”
“Yay!”
“Delish.” Ruby shouted and went into the bathroom.
“You’re staying with us right?” He asked Y/N’s mother.
She nodded and felt grateful when Tommy convinced her daughter to go and relax into the living room while they worked on the food.
“Last week she woke me up in the middle of the night because she wanted fried mozzarella sticks with mayonnaise.”
Y/N’s mother laughed as the kids joined them again.
“This is insane, I don’t know how you keep up with all of that.”
“I was worried about her health and the baby of course, but the doctor mentioned everything is perfect, baby is healthy… perhaps it’s the fact that she’s still doing exercise.”
“When I was pregnant I was sick all the time. She didn’t like anything of food I got.”
Tommy seemed to think about it as he started seasoning the beef.
“Actually Y/N felt like that for a few days after we found out, but then she started to eat pretty much everything, everywhere.” He chuckled. “Thankfully it’s been an easy pregnancy so far.”
He had actually been able to live this pregnancy to the fullest, joining Y/N for the doctor’s appointments, cravings, hormonal days, everything, something he didn’t have the chance to do with Charlie and Ruby.
He was enjoying every little change in Y/N’s body, the first time he felt a little kick, he cried actually, touched by the thought of his baby growing inside the woman he loved. They actually wanted to keep the gender a surprise until the baby arrives, it had been a challenge at times, but it was fun.
“Dad where’s the onion?” Ruby showed him the open fridge.
“Oh no, no… can we not add onions please?” Y/N joined them with a wrinkled nose.
“Two days ago you ate a full portion of fried onions, love.”
“This baby,” she pointed at her belly, “wanted onions, not me.”
“Isn’t it the same?” Charlie asked confused.
But Tommy knew better. “No onions then, I’ll start the grill with something else.” He added wanting to please her in every little detail.
As the kids helped Y/N’s mother to wash the avocados, Tommy got rid of his suit jacket.
Y/N stared at his back, wide with broad, toned shoulders covered by a perfectly fitted shirt. She loved to see him wearing daily a three piece suit in a world full of oversized t-shirts and pants.
But when he started rolling the sleeves of his shirt up, she lost it completely.
The sight of him was mouthwatering.
And as Tommy turned around, he caught her staring at her, the fire in her eyes could turn him on in a second.
“Behave, Y/N.” He whispered, disguising his words with a kiss on her hair. “Perhaps we’ll need a babysitter over the weekend?”
He chuckled at the way she nodded eagerly.
“My, my… what would your brothers say if they saw you wearing an apron and cooking?” Y/N’s mother joked, making everyone laugh by her sincerity.
“This is a secret we’ll have to keep, alright.” Tommy winked before checking the steak, he then asked Ruby to -carefully- and under his supervision to add cheese to the tortillas. “Chef Shelby only cooks for very very special people.” He added throwing a kiss to the air.
As Charlie brought the plates over the counter, he started slicing the meat and the explosion of flavors in the kitchen started to smell incredibly good.
Y/N’s mother was in charge of the different sauces, it was a usual now in their fridge as Y/N craved tortilla chips with sauce most of the time.
“Wow… this is Instagram worth it.” Y/N admitted taking a looking over Charlie’s shoulder. As the kid grinned at her, he made sure to serve a tortilla in each plate, to then hand it to his father so he could add the carne asada.
“What a beautiful family.” Y/N’s mother admitted, touched by the way Ruby was caressing Y/N’s stomach, Charlie helping with her food and Tommy looking after all of them.
Leaving the spoon, Tommy wrapped an arm around his loved ones while extending his free hand towards his mother in law.
“What are you doing there? You’re part of this too.”
After they were all released from the tightest hug, it was time to finally enjoy some tacos.
“Now shoo,” Tommy ushered Y/N out of the kitchen to arrange the food.
Gathering a tray, he placed the bowl with the guacamole and around all the tacos he just prepared. Leaving a small space for the sauces.
“Oh my God! This is so good!” Y/N admitted loudly after her first taco bite.
“Dad why does Y/N can eat before all of us?” Ruby asked innocently, confused because she was always told to wait until everyone were ready.
Tommy chuckled while Y/N apologized for not waiting the rest of the family.
“We don’t want to upset the baby, Rube. Right mama?”
Y/N nodded, her mouth was watering at the sight of the rest of the food. “That taco was for the baby, the next one is for me.”
After the kids took their place, Y/N’s mother offered a hand to each kid, seated each by her side. “Now what are we grateful for?”
“For this moment.” Tommy took the lead, feeling ever so grateful to have his loved ones in that room.
“For the cheesecake we’ll eat after dinner.” Charlie grinned.
“For this baby, and for each one of you.” Y/N’s words were followed by a smile.
“For my grand son or daughter!” Her mother joined the joy.
“For my little sister or brother.” Ruby added lastly.
“Now…” Tommy interrupted their hands mind-air as they were all after the delicious food on the table. “There’s something else I’m thankful for, tomorrow morning, we’ve to get up early because,” he was then interrupting by a chorus of groans and a pout from Y/N, “nevertheless… we’re going to visit a couple of houses to move in as soon as possible.”
“What?” Y/N was in shock.
“Love, this baby is coming very soon, we’ll need a bigger place than this apartment, I was thinking of a room for each,” he looked over at both children, “a nursery for the baby and of course a guest bedroom so you don’t have to share Ruby’s bed anymore.” He added looking at his mother in law.
“Oh Tommy!” Y/N’s eyes swelled with gratitude.
“I’ve narrowed the search to five properties so you’ll get to make the final decision.” He explained then.
“A house! Tommy a house!” Y/N couldn’t believe what she just heard.
“With a garden.” He encouraged.
“Can we have a pool?” Charlie asked.
“I want a doll house!”
“Whatever you want.” Tommy added, winking in Y/N’s direction. “Can we eat now?”
As the kids stormed to get their tacos, Y/N took his hand. A growing smile on her lips.
“You never said anything.” Her eyes sparkled.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“I’m so happy because of you.” Her sincerity wasn’t just in her words, but in her eyes as well.
And deep down, Tommy couldn’t believe that thanks to her, he was able to find stability, loyalty, freedom, love, a family, someone who helped him every day to be a better person.
****
I hope you enjoyed this little story! 🥰 remember, your feedback (in all ways) is always welcome and highly appreciated! ✨ xx
Tacos recipe
Master list
Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @blondie-22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219 @lauren-raines-x @red-riding-wood
#That’s what Cill said#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#modern tommy shelby imagine#modern tommy shelby#peaky blinders fanfic#modern peaky blinders#tommy shelby x y/n#thomas shelby imagine
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In the Bleak Mid-Winter
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse) Fem reader x Arthur ( platonic )
Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him.
Word count: 5k
Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff ,Tommy Shelby, y/n eats ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) Major character death from season 4 episode like 1/2
A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 part 5
********************
It's been a year.
A lot of things have changed since then; you've changed.
You're not the same person you were a year ago; you're still a nurse and still work in the hospital, but in London now.
You know the other nurse in hospital like the last, you eat lunch together but never go out. They always ask, but you always have the same excuse.
It's not like you're lying. You really don't have anyone to watch her, but if you wanted to, you could find someone, but don't. Honestly, though, you prefer the company of a bottle of whiskey over anyone else.
You also never have the energy to do anything anymore; you wake up throughout the night, then wake up to go to work, come home tired from a 12-hour shift, and go to sleep to do it all over again.
You barely eat, you barely sleep.
When you look in the mirror, you're just a hollow version of yourself, like you don't have control over your body. You're just sitting back as it goes through the motions, as someone else controls you.
She's not the only reason you can't sleep; if she's not waking you up because of her screams, you're waking yourself up with your own.
These nightmares are so haunting that most times, after you wake up, you just stay up.
And that's where you're at now, waking up from a dream like every other night.
You thrash around in your bed and suddenly wake up coughing as you grab hold of your throat. You get up from your bed, covered in sweat, and walk downstairs to the kitchen, rubbing your chest as you catch your breath.
You walk around the corner to the kitchen and instantly jump when you see someone sitting at your table in the dark. The old you would've freaked, grabbed your gun and threatened them.
But you now couldn't care less; you just grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey off the drink table. You bring it over and set it down, pouring the whiskey into each cup, filling it halfway, and then sliding one over to your companion.
You then sit down and take a swing of your drink before reaching for your pack of cigarettes.
"Want one," you ask, holding a cig out to them.
They take it, and you pull out one more for yourself; you then strike up a match, reaching towards them to light theirs first; once they got closer to the flame, it became clear who was sitting at this table with you.
You light the cigarette, then pull the match to light your own; you take a drag, hold it in, and then blow it out. You do this action a couple more times, and neither of you says a word as you smoke; you both just sit there in silence.
You finish up your cig, put it out in the ashtray, then proceed to light another. Again, you smoke in silence, but this time, as you're almost finished with your cig, you speak up.
"I thought you would've sent Micheal," You say as you reach to ash your cig in the ashtray.
He finishes up his cig, putting it out before responding to you. "He was busy," he shrugs.
"'M honestly, I would've preferred Micheal." You put your cig out and then took a sip of your drink.
"Well, looks like you're out of luck 'cause I'm here."
"Yes, you are; please do tell me why it is that you're here after all this time."
"We got served a black hand," he spoke with such seriousness, but you were confused.
"Ok, am I supposed to know what that means or what it has to do with me"
He took a deep breath and said, "We have to tighten house. We killed one of theirs way back, and now they're coming to get even."
You pursed your lips and turned your head to the side, slightly shrugging your shoulders. "And what does that have to do with me."
"They killed John."
"May he rest in peace? "even though you didn't mean for it to, it had come out more like a question than a statement.
"But again, what does this have to do with me," you asked
He let out a dry laugh, licking his lips, then got up and got in your face. He took hold of your wrist and bent down to your height.
"Because the Italian Mafia doesn't care if you don't fuck with me, they are going to kill everyone that has ever spoken to me, anyone who's ever been close to me to hurt me to break me down before killing me."
Even though he tried to seem calm and collected, you couldn't see it in his eyes or face, but you could hear it in his voice.
He was hurting.
You ripped your wrist from his grip and stood up, moving closer to him and getting in his face.
"Well, Tommy, it seems like you have a real problem on your hands; best of luck to you." You smiled at him, then stood up and began to walk away
Suddenly, you were pushed against the wall and turned to face him.
"Look, I—"his speech was cut short once he heard a cry coming from upstairs; his eyes darted down to you, his head tilted as he looked at you.
"Tommy, I-"you start but stop once Tommy pushes off you.
You tried to get past him to go up the steps first, but he pulled out a gun on you and pushed you back into the kitchen. He slowly took a step back as you took steps forward.
"Do it, Do it, Tommy. Be a man. Do it," You said as you walked forward; you held your head high as you spoke so there was no room for doubt on Tommy's part.
He looked at you, puzzled, then shut the door in your face. You immediately rushed to the door, but it was too late. He locked it. You tightened your grip on the door knob as you jiggled it relentlessly,
"Tommy…. Fuck— Tommy, please" You were starting to panic; you had to get to her first.
You dashed over to the drawers and started to throw everything out and slam it shut as you moved on to the next one. The key was in one of these drawers; it had to be you had remembered putting it in here you—
You found it in the last drawer; you ran over to the door but slipped on the things you had thrown on the floor and fell on your back, making the key fall out of your hand. You hop on your knees, ignoring the pain in your back that grew with every move you made as you searched the now messy floor for the key; you can already barely see because of the darkness, but the tears that start to build only make it worse.
Your hand brushed against something sharp, and you turned your head in its direction as you stretched your hand out again, patting it around. Your hand instantly comes in contact with the cold metal key. You grab it, rushing to the door. You try to place the key in the door, but it keeps brushing past the hole.
You stopped, took a deep breath, and tried again, and despite your shaking hand, you were able to place the key in and unlock the door. As soon as the door opens, you ran up the step to her room.
It's too late.
You walk into the room and see Tommy holding your daughter in his hands.
Without thinking, you say, "She's not yours."
It's a lie, you know it, and so does he. Anyone could see from a mile away that she was his, and it's not like she looked like him or you even; she was still too young to look like anyone. But she had those eyes, the same eyes her father had.
You look up at Tommy and know you are in trouble. He had just met her, and already he was in love. He was already hell-bent on taking you with him, but now that he knew of her, there was no way he was letting y'all go.
You're about to speak up but get cut off by some men behind you.
"We're here, Mr.Shebly. What do you want us to do?"
You didn't turn around to see if you knew the men; you just kept your eyes forced ahead on Tommy.
"Pack up the house, everything; we'll go through it later and see what we want." He barely spoke above a whisper and never looked up as he slowly rocked your baby back and forth.
"Oi sir and your car is ready when you are."
"Thank you, curly."
They left, leaving you and Tommy alone.
You opened your mouth to speak but didn't know what to say, so you stood there like a gaping fish as you struggled to find words.
"It doesn't matter what you say; tonight, you will leave here with me, and so will the baby. You can put up a fight, but we will drug you if we must." The way he spoke, you knew he meant it; there would not be a fight, you couldn't take on Tommy, let alone all the men downstairs.
So you just nodded your head, ok.
Satisfied with your answer, he proceeded to exit the room but then stopped and turned towards you.
"What's her name," he asks.
"Ruby"
"Ruby," He whispers, "Hi. Ruby, grab what you want and meet me in the car," He says, then leaves and goes downstairs.
You want to cry, tear the room to pieces, throw a fit, and just sit there and cry. But you can't, so you make yourself and your daughter a travel bag, packing only what you need and leaving the rest for the guys to pack up.
You finish packing and head upstairs; you walk past the men packing up your kitchen and head straight for the car. Once you're outside, you see a man waiting for you by the backseat door; he opens it for you as you approach it. You walk up to him, handing off your luggage, giving him a smile, and thanking him before sliding in next to Tommy, who's still holding your daughter tight to his chest.
The driver places your stuff in the trunk, runs over to the driver's side, and hops in, wasting no time. He takes off instantly, driving to a destination unknown to you.
You glance over at Tommy, who is still in awe at seeing your daughter. You don't even try to take your baby away from Tommy, knowing that he will hold her as long as he can.
So you sit there staring out the window, saying goodbye to the place you've called home for the past year, and try not to cry.
************************
For a long time, you were confused; you knew this wasn't the way to Tommy's house. It was east, and you had been heading west. You were about to ask where you were going, but then you started to recognize your surroundings, the shops you've walked past hundreds if not thousands of times. You even saw some people you knew past patients.
You were back in Birmingham.
Soon after you cross the line into Birmingham, it doesn't take long for you to reach your destination; you pull up next to many small townhomes.
Before you get the chance, your door is opened for you, thanking the driver as you step out and observe your surroundings.
"Where are we, Tommy," you ask.
"We're home," he says simply, then starts making his way into one of the homes.
You follow closely behind him as he steps into the house; you take in your new surroundings as you follow him; there are steps directly in front of you and a living room to your right that leads Into a kitchen. As soon as you step into the living room following Tommy, you're greeted by a maid who cut you off as you are about to ask Tommy another question.
"Welcome back, Mr. Shebly. I set Charlie down for a nap upstairs a few minutes ago and just put dinner in the oven. Do you need anything else from me before I go"
"No, Mary, that will be all thank you."
"It's not a problem, Mr.Shelby," she said, then went to leave but suddenly stopped at the door. "Oh, and I've had a bassinet put upstairs per your request." She gave both of you a tight smile, shutting the door as she exits, leaving you and Tommy alone.
Tommy doesn't say a word as he turns away from you and walks upstairs; you're about to start looking around when a knock comes at the door. You get to the front to open it and is greeted by the driver, who has your bags in hand. You reach out, taking them from his hands and setting them to the side before giving him a smile.
"Thank you so much; hold on, let me find my purse to pay you," you say as you step away from him in search of your bags.
The driver quickly stops you in your tracks when he calls after you using a name you've never heard associated with you.
"Oi, that's quite alright, Mrs.Shebly; Tommy pays me good," he said, giving you a smile, then shuts the door before you could even correct him.
"Ok," you say yourself as you shrug it off; you turn around just in time to see Tommy walking down the step, and you notice that your daughter is no longer in his hand. You assumed he must've put her down upstairs in the crib Mary set up.
Once he gets down the steps, he immediately makes his way toward the Living room. He sits down in one of the chairs, and you decide to take a seat across from him.
He pulls out his pack of cigs, offers you one, which you accept, and then takes one for himself. His lights yours first, then his own. You take a couple drags of your cig, then begin asking him a million questions you have swimming around in your head.
"How long do we have to stay here," you ask as you blow out smoke and then take another drag.
He shrugs his shoulders as he waves his hand around in no particular manner, "for however long it takes."
You press your lips tightly and roll your eyes; you take a deep breath and let it out as you speak again, "Are we staying here with you."
"Yeah"
"Is it safe?"
"Yeah, you will have two guards stationed outside 24/7."
"And where will you be?"
"Out"
"So Tommy, let me get this straight: I'm supposed to stay here for who knows how long, under constant surveillance from your men, and I'm assuming I'm not allowed to leave." You paused, waiting for an answer, to which he gave you a slight nod back. "Right, so basically, I'm a prisoner; I'm your prisoner. I'm not ok with that, Tommy. I-"
Arthur suddenly burst through your door, calling out for Tommy.
"Oi Tommy, I- "Arthur paused once his eyes landed on you; a big smile slowly crept up his face as he started making his way towards you.
"Sista, it's good to see you," Arthur said as he hugged you, picking you up slightly.
"It's good to see you too...... I'm so sorry about John," you said as you hugged him back, and you were being honest. You didn't miss anything from your old life, but Arthur. After all the years, y'all were around each other. He truly started to feel like the brother you never had.
Arthur pulled back from you slightly and looked you in the eyes; you gave him a tight smile, then pulled him back closer and hugged him tighter.
Arthur pulled back again as he asked you a question, "Oi, I heard I had a niece. Where she."
Before you were able to answer his question, Tommy interrupted you.
"Are you two finished yet" You heard Tommy ask from behind you, making Arthur drop you.
"Sorry, Tommy," he chuckled as he stepped further from you. "There's been an incident down at the boat house; we need you down there."
"Thank you, Arthur; I'll meet you outside," Tommy said, then went into the kitchen to gather his things.
Arthur gave you a small smile and whispered a quick bye before heading outside.
You turn to face Tommy, who is putting on his coat; you see his collar sticking up, so you go over to him to help him fix it. You grab onto the jacket and pull him in close to you.
"When will you be back?" You ask as you pat down his collar.
"When I'm finished"
"That's not cool, Tommy; we have things we need to talk about." You grab on his collar and tighten.
He gave you a look that you could only describe as assumed, then pulled you off him, holding your wrist in his hands.
"And we will when I get back," he said, dropping your wrist and walking away. He suddenly stopped and turned around to face you. "Watch Charlie for me," He said with a tight smile, then reached for the door.
You are so fed up with his bullshit that you pick up the first thing your hands touched and throw it at him.
"Fuck you, Tommy" You screamed at him as the glass cup left your hands.
Your aim is ass, so the cup smashed against the wall next to him, missing him by a couple feet. But still, it stopped him in his tracks; he stood there for a second, then turned around to face you, gave you a smug smile, then said
"You already did love."
He quickly went to the door, leaving you there standing there stunned.
You're so mad at him for coming into your life (again), picking you up, and dragging you into his mess (again). He constantly treats you like gum on the bottom of his shoe, and you're tired of it.
You have this anger building up inside you; you're so mad, so you do the only thing you can think of.
You scream.
You stand there and scream; you yell out towards the ceiling; you scream till your lungs start to burn. And then you collapse onto the floor.
How did you end up here again? You thought you finally got away from this life.
Before you had a chance to wallow in your self-pity, you heard a cry come from upstairs. You get slowly and make your way up the narrow stairs. Once you get upstairs, you notice there are only two rooms upstairs, one the bathroom and the other the bedroom.
You enter the bedroom and see Charlie still fast asleep on the bed, the only bed, you might add. Your baby cried from her bassinet, and you went over, picking her up and rocked her back and forth in her arms. She must've heard your scream and got startled. You were really loud; you're shocked that Charlie didn't wake up.
You were able to get her back to sleep quite quickly; you placed her back in her bassinet and walked out the door back downstairs.
As you walked down the steps, you started to sniff the air around you; it smelled like something was burning.
You took off sprinting towards the kitchen once you remembered the dinner Mary said she had placed in the oven. You yanked the oven open and reached in to take the pan out.
You jump back, saying a million curse words as you immediately pull your thumb in your mouth. You are so out of it that you forgot an oven mitt. You suck on your thumb for a couple of more seconds as you glance around the kitchen till your eyes land on the oven mitt. You grab them off the counter, head back to the oven, and pull the pot, placing it on the top of the stove.
You open the pot, and to your surprise, it's a chicken roast dinner, and it's not that burnt, only a bit; really, it just looks extra crispy.
You place the top back on and glance down at the clock next to the stove; it's barely a quarter past three.
You decide to let the meal cool down, you get your bag from the door, and put it up where you see best upstairs.
After you finished unpacking what you had on hand, you pre-made a couple of bottles for your daughter and then joined Charlie in the bed for a little nap after scooting him over a bit.
That boy sleeps wild.
***********************
You felt yourself being shaken back and forth softly as if it was too hard for the person to push you. You open your eyes slowly and squint as they try to adjust to the dark; you look around the room in search of the person who worked you up, and soon, your eyes land on the smaller version of Thomas Shelby.
The little boy turned his head to the side as she looked at you curiously.
You sat up on your elbows and took a quick glance over to the clock next to you; it was seven on the dot. You turned back and looked over at Charlie, who was still looking at you.
"Yes, Charlie," you asked.
"I'm hungry; where, Da," he asked, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.
"He's out right now; I'm here. Is that ok," you asked; he nodded slowly in response.
"Ok, good, I have some food downstairs for you; we just have to get the baby up and well go, ok."
"Baby?"
"Yeah, come look." You stood up, grabbed him, placed him on your hip, and showed him the baby below.
"Who that"
You thought about your answer before you responded to him. You didn't see the harm in telling him the truth, so you said, "She's your sister; her name is Ruby."
He turned up to look at you so quick that you thought he gave himself whiplash.
"My sista," he gasped and then tried to reach down to touch her.
"Yep, but wait, be careful, I'll put you down, and I'll grab her and show you."
You put him down softly and then pick up your little girl; she begins to stir as you gently pick her up. You turned to see Charlie sitting waiting patiently with his feet swinging off the side of the bed.
You sat down next to him and turned your body to face him; he glanced down at the baby, up at you, and down at the baby again.
"Wow!" He said, then jumped down from the bed and took hold of your hand.
"Come on, me and baby hungry," he said, leading you downstairs.
Once you got downstairs, you had him sit at the small table in the kitchen, and you kept Ruby in your arms as you fixed him a plate and then yourself. You warmed both plates on the stove and grabbed a pre-made bottle from the fridge while you waited.
You sat down next to Charlie and offered him a proposition: "You want to feed her with me."
He shook his head up and down so fast and tried to reach out to her.
You pulled away from him slightly. "Wait, I'll hold her, and you hold the bottle, ok?"
He nodded and waited for you to give him the bottle; you showed him how to hold the bottle at an angle best for the baby and then let him take over.
He reached over you slightly as he held the bottle to Ruby, and she took it instantly, drinking fast.
After she was finished, you took her back upstairs to sleep; when you came back down, your food was finished warming, so you took both your plates out and cut up the food for him before handing it to him.
Together, y'all both sat at the table and ate in silence.
"Are you my new ma"
The piece of chicken you placed in your mouth instantly went down the wrong pipe, and you started to cough, your eyes began to water as your chest tightened. You reach for your glass of water on the table as you beat against your chest.
As you drank your water, you glanced over at Charlie, who had started playing with his food. You cleared your throat a couple of times as you rubbed against it and drank more water, then set the cut back down next to your plate.
You smack your lips against your teeth as you begin to speak. "Umm, w-what makes you uhhh what makes you say that."
Charlie shrugged his causal shoulders, still glancing down at his food. "You're staying here with me and da; you sleep in the same bed as me and da and your baby’s ma."
You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled look dancing across your face; you leaned down closer to Charlie and asked him a question, "You're four right."
"Yep," he said, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.
"Um, yeah, no, Charlie, I'm not your "new" ma, and if I was, I wouldn't be your new ma, just another one, ok. Cause you ma Grace will always be your ma."
He didn't say anything back to you, just nodded back slowly; it was clear that he was full now and probably was sleepy again. You assumed that you both had a long day of travel and these significant changes would take a second to get used to.
You took both plates away, deciding that you were also finished eating; you quickly cleaned the plates and placed them in the drying rack. After you put the pot of food in the fridge, you pick Charlie up, take him upstairs with you.
By the time your foot hit the last step, Charlie was somehow fast asleep; you brought him into the bedroom and carefully placed him down in the middle of the bed. You grab the covers, bring them over his body, and tuck him in slightly.
After you check on your baby and find her still fast asleep. You decide to go back downstairs and sit in the living room to wait for Tommy; he should be home soon; he has been gone for hours now. Whatever he had to work on should be done by now……. Right?
.
.
.
You feel your oxygen supply getting cut off, and you start to struggle to breathe; you try to turn your head but to no avail because whatever's is on top of you is keeping you in place.
You begin to panic as you realize that you are asleep and have to force yourself away to be able to deal with whatever is keeping you from breathing.
You feel your fingers begin twitching, then your eyes, and finally, after what seems like forever, you're able to open your eyes.
You squint your eyes as you try to help them adjust to the darkness, but it's still pitch black; you soon realize that the reason you can't see isn't because it's dark but because something lays on top of you.
You lift your hand cautiously as you slowly lift Charlie's body off your head and back into the middle.
You lay there for a second as you try to catch your breath, then slowly, you sit up to check on your daughter, seeing as she has yet to wake you for a bottle tonight. You take a quick peek over into her bassinet.
She's not there.
You quickly shoot up in a panic, thinking your eyes are playing jokes on you, but once you get closer to the bassinet, you can confirm that she is not in there.
You try to take deep to calm yourself down, but it gets caught in your throat as you slowly begin to spiral, and your mind starts to race with a million questions.
Where is she?
How could I not hear someone take her?
When did I get up here?
.
.
.
Wait, you pause for a second and try to think back to tonight. You didn't get in the bed. You remember waiting on the couch for Tommy; you must've fallen asleep, but how did you get up here?
Your head quickly pans over your shoulder, and in the bed next to Charlie, you see Tommy and your daughter lying on his chest and a half-empty bottle on the nightstand next to him.
Relief floods your body as you slowly sit back down on the bed; you look back over at Tommy. The sight before you is truly something; if Tommy wasn't the devil reincarnated, it might make your heart swell. But instead, you're sitting there contemplating whether or not to get her off him and place her back in her bed.
She seems fine, and there isn't much room for her or Tommy to roll around plus the risk of having to deal with her waking up in a sour mood if you move her isn't something you feel like doing right now.
You lay back in bed next to Charlie, deciding to leave them be.
As you fall back to sleep, instead of counting sheep, you tell yourself repeatedly.
That this is just for now and that
Thomas Shelby is in your past and not your future.
***********************
Tag list:
@thhriller@macchiadinchiostro @naevisct @johnmurphys-sass @fannibalsrule @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @sis7890
I apologize if y/n having a kid is a huge turn-off for some people, mainly because there isn't any warning, and we're so deep into the story. I wanted it to be a surprise, but again, I'm sorry. Also, this isn't the last part. There are two more, and then that's it; I broke it down because I felt like having everything In one or two parts would've made it seem like Y/n and Tommy's end result would become too quick and not in a organic way. Also, I've been told this story gives dead doves don't cry or something like that; it's not, I promise, a happy end or as happy as person can be with Thomas Shelby. Anyways, thanks for reading. The story should be finished and fully uploaded all parts by Friday, Feb 9th.
P.S: I can't tell if this chapter is shitty or not I was just trying to get it out for yall so I'm sorry if it is.
#cillian murphy#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fanfic#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#arthur shelby#john shelby#michael gray#polly gray#ada shelby#thomas shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x y/n
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I Don't Care What They Say
Tommy x female reader
Your feet ached in the tight shoes you’d borrowed from your cousin and your head throbbed with an impending headache, but you continued dancing, eyes darting to the corner of the ballroom where your aunt stood watching you with hawklike precision. As the disinterested young man who held you in his arms turned you on the dance floor, he spared you the sneer of her disapproval.
You didn’t need to look at your aunt’s pinched face to know how you were failing her. It was the end of your season and she had warned you it was time to find a husband. You had other ideas than accepting a proposal from someone you loathed just to live well. However, she constantly chided your independent nature as being stubborn and incorrigible. “Just like your mother," she often bemoaned, "far too bohemian and unladylike." You knew the burden you had become in her eyes and feared what would become of you when her patience grew thin.
As you pondered your fate, you were soon frozen by the icy stare of a stranger. Though you were unsettled by his attention at first, you found yourself strangely drawn to him the longer he watched you. You’d noticed him observing the festivities earlier, but never venturing onto the dance floor. However, it didn't surprise you as mothers were not subtle about pulling their daughters into their sides and scurrying away from him.
As the waltz ended you couldn’t hide your curiosity, wondering who this mysterious man could be. It thrilled you to see him smile at you upon your arrival, a kindness you hadn’t expected. However, you couldn’t think of a thing to say, too caught up in the moment to remember your manners. Luckily the gentleman before you took the lead, offering you a glass of champagne and a tour of the gardens.
The moment you exited onto the terrace, alone with the nameless man, your courage evaporated and your footsteps stalled. Noticing your hesitation, he offered his hand along with an introduction. “I"m Thomas Shelby,” he said confidently, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest when you unconsciously shrunk from him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I’ve heard rumors…about all the bad things you do,” you admitted, fumbling with your gloves. “My aunt says you’re a very dangerous man,” you whispered in hushed awe.
Looking thoroughly unbothered, he fished his cigarette case from his pocket. Carefully selecting a cigarette, he asked, “And what do you think?”
You considered him for a moment as he rubbed it against his bottom lip before lighting it, mesmerized by his every movement. “I don’t know you at all,” you demurred.
“I’d like to get to know you,” he admitted intently holding your gaze as he added, “That’s why you should know what they say is true.”
“Oh,” you exclaimed breathlessly, surprised he would admit to being a gangster so freely.
Tommy couldn’t miss the way your eyes darted back toward the door and the safety of the warm ballroom. “Does that frighten you?” he asked, turning his head to blow smoke out into the chilly evening air. He calmly awaited your reply, watching as the tendrils of smoke curled and drifted toward the heavens.
Feeling yourself pulled by the invisible thread of his magnetism, you moved toward him slowly until you were face to face. In that moment, you found yourself more wonderstruck than afraid. Here was someone who stood on the outskirts of polite society unconcerned by the opinions of others.
“No, I don’t care what they say,” you ventured, wondering how he might respond to your bold reply.
As the clouds parted and the moonlight struck Tommy’s angular jawline, you could clearly see a faint smile appearing, an amused twinkle in his eye glinting back at you approvingly. Flicking his cigarette away, Tommy cupped your cheek in his large palm and your breath hitched. “And what would your aunt do if she heard you?,” he teased with raised eyebrow.
“She wouldn’t like it very much. She thinks I’ve brought enough scandal to the family being unmarried at my age," you explained.
He nodded thoughtfully before dipping his head to brush his lips against yours. When you melted into him, he pulled you deeper into his embrace, devouring you in a passionate kiss. A moan escaped your throat when he finally pulled away, looking at you mischievously with lust blown pupils.
“Scandalous enough for your dear aunt?” he asked in a low voice that made your stomach flip.
“She’ll probably disown me,” you murmured, biting your lower lip.
“Then you’re free to be mine,” he hummed, gently rubbing a thumb across your cheek.
“I like that idea,” you said with a giggle. You laced a hand behind his neck for another kiss as the clouds closed back over the pale moon.
-------------
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#Peaky Blinders fanfic#Peaky Blinders imagine#Tommy Shelby fanfic#Tommy Shelby imagine#Tommy Shelby x you#Tommy Shelby x y/n#Tommy Shelby x reader#Tommy Shelby#Cillian Murphy
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Dark, Dirty Secrets
Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Original Male Character x Reader
Word Count: 19.5k
Warnings: NSFW, dark themes, domestic abuse, adultery, language, character death, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, praise kink, breeding kink, possessive speech, ect...
A/N: I might get hate for doing this, idk, but I am going to purposefully leave out a couple of warnings because I don’t want to spoil the plots in this fic. When I say “dark themes” in the warnings, I mean dark themes. If you do not think you can handle it, please do not indulge. You have been warned. Thank you.
The morning light is warm on your naked back, but Tommy's hand is warmer as he sets his palm on your side, caressing the skin with his thumb. You smile, glancing at him over your shoulder as he reaches over for his case of cigarettes.
"How do you think the race'll go?" you ask.
Tommy picks a cigarette, rubbing it along his lips. He reaches for the light on the bedside table, coming up empty when you bring the flame to life yourself. He smiles and leans forward to let you light his cigarette, taking in the first puff before answering you. "Midsummer has been trained by the best of the best; she'll be great."
You slide your bra along your arms, fastening it tight around your chest with a sigh. "You don't think it's too soon?"
Smoke swirls around his head as he blows it out in one long stream, finally moving to sit up. "Nonsense," he sighs. "She's a natural born. She was made for the tracks." He leans over, pressing his nose into your neck before kissing you there. "Just like you were made for my bed."
A laugh bubbles out of you in response as you shoo him away. "Alright," you chuckle, smiling wide. Sorting through your pile of clothes, you raise a brow. "I'm surprised you didn't rip my clothes to hell."
He hums deeply, seemingly amused. "Me, too."
You pick your pantyhose from the mess and chuckle once as you shake your head. "Oh, nevermind then." You glance over your shoulder again, smirking devilishly at Tommy. "I guess now I have to walk around arse out."
He shrugs, raising a dark brow. "More for me, then."
"Ha ha," you mutter. You lean over to him, plucking his cigarette from between his pretty lips. Kissing him longer than you should, you push yourself to stand as you saunter over to his dresser. Tommy watches the way your hips sway as you walk away from him with his cigarette between your own lips now, stopping to pull open the top drawer where he has clothes of yours left over from so many occasions before.
You hear his footsteps as he stands, walking back over to you. He sets his hands on your sides, listening to your longing sigh as he drags them down slowly from your ribs, ending at your hips when your body jerks slightly and your sigh is interrupted by a short gasp.
"What?" he asks, brows furrowed at your strange reaction to his touch.
You shake your head, pulling a smile over your lips. You blow out some smoke. "Nothing."
He takes a step back, fixing his gaze on your hips deepening his furrowed brow when he sees a slight discoloration over the skin. It's the first time he's noticed it; when you came over last night, you were both too desperate and it was too dark to see.
"Where did this come from?" His voice is darker than it had been moments before, a dangerous edge that you know all too well.
"What?" you ask, still sifting through the drawer to find the clothes you are searching for.
His face is so close to yours, his lips are practically brushing your skin. "On your hips," he says, gently grasping you there again. Your hips jerk.
"You're not the only man who's rough in bed, Tommy Boy," you dismiss, smirking his way. You put the cigarette on the ashtray atop the dresser before pulling a new pair of your undergarments from the drawer and bending down to slip them over your legs again. As you're bent over like this, Tommy doesn't move, instead opting to enjoy the sight of your backside pressing into his own hips.
He's handsy as he caresses his palms along your back, sighing deeply at the feeling of your skin against his. "Well, tell Mr. Reddoch to stop bruising me goods."
You stand up straight again, pulling open another drawer where your thin white gowns are folded neatly beside his shirts. "First," you chuckle, "that would imply telling Henry about this." You reach back and run your hand through his dark hair. "Second, maybe you should stop bruising your goods. I've gotta cover this up now, else he murders me." You smooth your hand on your neck where he's marked you with his teeth, dark and purple and too obvious.
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. "No one is murdering my girl on my watch."
You hum, a fond smile on your lips as he wraps his arms around your center and pulls your back closer to his chest. He ducks his head and kisses your neck, lips and tongue and teeth caressing your skin there and filling the pit of your stomach with warmth.
"Stop," you chuckle half-heartedly. "We have to go soon, and no one's leaving if you're pushing me against the wall again."
He does exactly that, shifting you over and encouraging you toward the wall with an urgency that swells in both your chests. He presses you against the cold surface, your body squished between it and him as his naked body traps your partially clothed one.
"I'm not arguing," he smiles, already bunching up the thin silk of your gown to pull down your pantyhose once more.
You laugh excitedly. "Tommy!"
~
The venue is already heavily populated when you arrive, stepping out of your car with your hat resting on your head. The tracks are full of people eager to watch the races as you make your way through the crowd.
Tommy, who drove his own car, comes up behind you with a hand on your lower back. It's innocent enough that no one cares as you walk to meet your people. Pushing through the attendees, you find them easily.
"There they are!" Arthur's raucous voice exclaims over the conversation swarming through the place. You smile at him, already holding your arms open to welcome the oldest Shelby brother.
"Hello, Arthur," you greet him, grunting when he hugs you a little too tight before letting you go. Esme and John are the last to join the group (though there's a whole other one already waiting at your seats), saying their own greetings.
You spot Henry and offer him a smile, stepping into his space as he welcomes you happily. "What did you girls talk about?" he asks, taking you in his arms as you stand so close to his chest that you might as well be stepping on his toes. He holds you like you're dancing, hand in hand, the other supporting you.
"Telling you would spoil the purpose of girl's night, wouldn't it?" you question, raising a brow.
He sighs, "Suppose you're right."
"'Course, I am," you smile. You lean forward slowly and kiss your husband, raising a hand to his cheek as the thin, golden band on your finger caresses his skin. His hand cradles the back of your head.
"Alright," Arthur interrupts, "you gonna snog all day and miss the race or are you gonna place your bets?"
You separate, laughing. "We're coming, we're coming," you assure him. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Arthur."
He walks over, slapping his hand on either of your shoulders as he smiles wide. "My knickers are just fine," he announces.
Tommy pats his brother's back with a heavy palm as he comes up behind him. "Fine silk," he says. "Pretty and pink."
John steps up on his other side. "Only the best for a Shelby."
In high spirits, the boys laugh. When you turn to Henry again, his gaze is on your neck and you tilt your head.
"Where did that come from?" he asks, scooting in closer to speak privately to you. He's still got one of your hands intertwined with his.
"What?"
He brings his hand up, brushing the tips of his fingers over your neck. Your own hand follows as you take into account what he's talking about, offering a smile with as few nerves as you can manage. "You," you tell him, smiling gently. "Don't you remember?"
He raises a brow and shakes his head, "I didn't give you that." His hold on your hand tightens. You can feel the tingling in your fingertips but choose not to bring attention to it.
"It's probably just fuzzy," you say, stepping closer to rest your hand on his shoulder. You graze your fingertips along the back of his neck, right down the center as you smile. "You were drinking, it was late… and I was screaming."
Your suggestion darkens the look in his eyes for a different reason. His lips pull in a small smirk, and you consider yourself safe. "You were, weren't you?"
You nod gently, making sure he sees the way your eyes dart down to his lips, "'Course I was."
He pulls you in even closer, your bodies practically melded together. "Maybe you should remind me."
"Maybe I should," you agree.
He kisses you quickly. "Let's go, then, eh?"
You nod. "Give me a moment, yeah?"
"Don't keep me waiting," he says, his words almost a warning as he lets you go. You step out of his hold, walking over to Tommy with a sly grin.
He'd been watching you. It isn't hard to tell, it isn't as though he tried to hide it by looking away. He has no reason for shame.
"Be back soon," you say, stopping too close to him. "Don't send a search party."
He leans forward ever-so-slightly, raising a brow. "You're a whore," he says.
You know he's only teasing as you smile wide, laughing heartily. "I'm a wife," you correct softly. Sending him a wink and a playful kiss, you step back. "Don't wait up."
You turn on your heel to join Henry's side. He pulls you in, walking away with you as you feel Tommy's eyes burn holes into the back of your neck. Your skin is on fire only through the feeling of his eyes on you, and it's driving you insane.
As soon as a secluded corner presents itself, Henry shoves you into it with the urgency of a starving man. His lips are all over yours, a vicious attack of the skin as his hands grasp at flesh and blood. He's rough when he begins to paw at your clothes with one hand, eager to be rid of them as he tugs them down your body. His other hand gathers your wrists above your head and his hips press you against the wall as he holds you a little too tight.
You grab his bicep, pushing it back some as you speak breathlessly to him. "Wait, slow down," you urge "You're going to tear my dress."
He has little care for such things as he waves his hand dismissively. "I might as well. You don't need them."
"We're in public. I can't walk around with my arse out."
As if on cue, he reaches down and grabs a handful of the doughy flesh, kneading it in his palm as his fingers dig harshly into you. His grip on your wrists tighten, you feel your fingers tingling, burning at the sensation. It aches as he does so, and your hips jerk away from him. "Ow," you groan, clenching your teeth, "Henry, stop, you're hurting me."
He smirks wide, looking almost devilish as seems to grip your bottom harder. "I bet you love it, too," he huffs, his mouth sloppy against the skin of your exposed collarbone. He reaches down to bunch up the bottom of your dress, urging it up your legs as he exposes more and more of it.
"Henry, slow down," you bid, gasping when his teeth clamp down around your shoulder. You wriggle your hands free and push him away from you, shoving him back just enough to put some space between your bodies. You take a moment to breathe, but he doesn't give you long as he's already advancing toward you again.
"Come back here," he orders, though it's not mean. He says it as though you are playing a game as he smiles wide and mischievously, and somehow, that's much scarier than the former.
As he steps closer, you stutter backwards with an urgency in your eyes that deters him a moment. His playfulness is gone and his shoulders drop. He releases a breath and steps back.
"You don't want me."
And then the guilt sinks into your flesh and sticks to your bones like glue.
Guilt from this morning, your forbidden pleasures with Tommy, his claim on your neck, skin on skin on skin.
Henry's eyes are burdened with a sadness that aches and pulls the strings of your heart like the trigger of a gun.
You smile slowly, fixing your dress as you close the distance between the both of you by taking his face in your hands. "'Course I do." He looks away from you, not quite convinced, even as you stroke your thumb over his cheek. His hands reach up to grasp your wrists again, and you try not to wince at the feeling of his grip on your aching skin. You turn his face to look at you, shivering at the ice of his eyes.
You swallow thickly. "But the race is about to start," you place your hands on his chest, "so why don't we be quick and finish this later?" He watches you sink to your knees, slow but slightly shaking as you kneel before him.
His smile from before returns, as does the predatory gaze in his eyes. "Yeah," he nods slowly, a hand on your cheek. "Not too quick, though."
You breathe a half-hearted laugh and make quick work of his belt.
~
You dig in your purse to fish out your lipstick, smearing it carefully over your lips with the small mirror in your gloved palm. White lace travels up from your fingers to the middle of your arm, hiding the newly discolored bruises on your wrists. As you snap it closed and turn to see Henry, he looks satisfied and you relax.
You walk over to him, fixing his disheveled hair with deft fingers. He watches you with a smile, brushing his fingers along your hairline and down to your chin. You smile at the tenderness and lean forward to kiss him, eager for his softer touch for as long as you have it.
But as you lean forward, he leans back. "We'll be late," he says, wiping his hands down the front of his expensive suit and walking away. You watch him go, your heart heavy and your throat hot.
You follow him back to the group, finding them quickly as you take your seat between him and Tommy, cigarette between his lips. You sit down silently, your back too straight and your chest tight.
When you feel Tommy's fingers brush your hand, you look over at him. He's got a smile on his face, it's small and teasing but it makes you feel just a little lighter.
"Looking a little flustered, love," he remarks, his cigarette pinched between his fingers.
He expects a smart reply, accustomed to quick wit and far too much sass for one woman. But all he gets is a tiny, "Yeah."
Tommy frowns and whispers your name. You look at him and you see it, the care he insists isn't there. You smile at him, brushing your fingers against his hand. "I'm fine," you tell him. "Promise."
He leans in, eyes narrowed in challenge as smoke bellows from his lips. "You're a dirty liar," he mutters into your ear, motioning toward you with the burning end of his cigarette.
Your smile turns a smirk as you take it from him, the slyness he's used to sinking back in at his words. "I have to be with you." You wink and blow a stream of smoke into the air. Your gaze lingers for just a moment longer than it should before you're turning your attention to the tracks, giving his cigarette back.
Tommy watches you a few seconds more before following suit, relaxing just a bit now that he knows you're okay.
~
Glass clinks against glass, surrounded by cheers and shouts of celebration of Midsummer's victory. Most of the celebration is packed into one of the smaller rooms, trays of glasses and mugs littering the large table as everyone takes what they want.
"And you doubted her," Tommy tuts as he takes a sip from his glass.
You roll your eyes and laugh, "I would never doubt that beautiful beast. She was made for the tracks." You pat your husband's chest next to you.
"As I said," Tommy nods.
Henry raises his glass to him, "You sure know how to pick 'em, Tom."
"It's in me blood."
Polly comes through with her glass in hand, waving them aside. "Away with you, boy," she orders. "Go and drink and celebrate."
Arthur raises his glass as she comes to stand by him, hand on his chest to push him back. "We are celebrating, Pol. We'll be celebrating all night!"
Shouts rose from the pub in response to that, agreeing whole-heartedly with him. The only people not exclaiming their cheers are you and Henry, distracted and lip-locked as you sit on his lap.
Ada's hand grasps your arm as she pulls you off of him, rolling her eyes in slight disgust of the public display. "Hey!" you exclaim giddily.
Polly's on her side, still talking to the boys. "Yeah, well, go do it somewhere else. It's girls' time now."
John groans loudly, throwing his head back lazily over the seat. "Why is it always girls' time?" he complains, allowing Esme to pull him up and shove him into his brothers. "What are they hiding from us, you think?" he asks them.
Esme, with her hands on his chest, smiles, "Dark, dirty secrets that'll run your mind to mush." She kisses him quick. "Now off with you lot."
"Alright, fine! Don't drink all the good stuff," Arthur complies, already reaching for another glass before he turns to leave as Polly and Ada continue to usher them out.
You laugh and your eyes find Tommy's, watching you too fondly. "It's no fun otherwise," you wink. They close the doors loudly behind themselves, leaving the four of you alone to gossip.
As soon as Polly is sure no prying ears are listening in, she smiles. "So," she begins, leaning back in her seat with a cigarette between her fingers, "how are the husbands?"
Esme scoffs, although not unkindly. "Cunt drunk." You scoff as well, agreeing whole-heartedly.
Ada laughs. "Oh, we saw plenty of that."
Polly just smiles and nods once, "Good girls, then." She blows out some smoke slowly through puckered lips.
You shrug, turning back to Ada. "Polly said to keep their bellies full and their balls empty." You smile slyly, bringing your glass to your lips. "Who am I to refuse?"
Ada raises her brows playfully, motioning toward you with her drink. "You're a dirty whore, is what you are."
You mirror her expression, though you feign surprise as you sit up a little straighter. "Then I should start charging," you tease.
"A girl like you?" Esme looks you up and down, smirking just as much as you. "You'd make good money."
You chuckle, leaning back to cross your legs. "Oh, then I should definitely start charging."
They laugh with you, reveling in the smoke and liquor in the air. Esme's expression sobers a little as she turns to you again. "How's your husband, love? Still givin' you trouble?"
You lean forward again, uncrossing your legs and taking a small sip of your drink again. "Oh, he's fine," you say.
Polly stands, walking over to you in the small space. "I don't normally call this–" she pokes your side, right over your bruised hip with little tenderness, "–fine."
These three are the only ones who know about your relationship with your husband, not even Tommy knows, his best man at your wedding and your closest friend. You would tell the boys, but they would likely try to kill Henry—you've been a Shelby friend for a very long time, long before they ever even heard of Henry Reddoch. Arthur, John, and Ada are practically your siblings.
But the relationship you have with Tommy has never been familial.
You look at her, face fallen and slightly annoyed. "Ow." She raises a brow, a silent question as to whether or not you think she cares if her poking you hurt. You run a hand along your side absent-mindedly before grabbing your cup for another drink. "He's just rough, is all," you defend calmly. You look up at her with a smirk, "And I'm good at what I do."
Polly's fingers shift hair from your face and neck. "And, yet," she says, "all Tommy does is this." She reveals the mark left on your skin from this morning.
You raise your brow this time, challenging her just a tad, "How do you know that was him and not my husband?"
She breathes a humorless laugh at your foolish challenge and grabs your hand. "Because your husband does this," Polly says, pulling your glove off your hand and showing you the bruising of your wrist—as if you hadn't known it was there.
You snatch your hand from hers, replacing the glove and shaking your head lightly. "I can handle my husband." You look at her, completely serious. "Let me handle him."
"Oh, you'll handle him alright," Ada mumbles. She takes another sip of her glass.
Esme follows suit. "Then you'll come back round here with another bruise, this time around your neck."
You sigh and shake your head, tilting your head and tapping your finger against the smooth wood of the table. "It's just the war," you say, lamenting the time before all of this. The time your husband was softer, gentler. Yes, it has been a while.
You'd been married to Henry for nearly a year before he was sent off the war with Tommy and the rest of the boys. They were so different back then, kinder, lighter, happier. They were gone for so long, and when they returned, the part of them that you had cherished for their tenderness was gone. But no one lost more warmth than Henry—even Tommy, with his eyes of ice and heart of stone. Henry came back, but some of his soul had never returned: the smile that was a little bit bigger, the laugh that was a little bit fuller, the hands that were a little bit softer.
He loves you, and you love him…but the limits of where that love is sometimes feel constricting.
You breathe in deep, feigning your smile. "It changes men."
Esme sighs, muttering under her breath but unafraid to voice her feelings. "Me husband went to war, but he doesn't bruise me like a peach."
You scoff. You know they mean well, but, quite frankly, you're tired of hearing it. "We're married, we're kind of together ''til death do us part' and all that."
Polly waves her hand. "It'll always be the war." She leans in closer, raising a brow as she urges you to listen. "Doesn't mean you have to keep fighting it."
You take her in, the way she watches you. "Stop worrying," you say after a moment, looking around the table at everyone. "I'll be fine."
Ada sighs deeply, sitting back and taking a drink from her glass. "You act like a Shelby."
"You might marry one and make it official," Polly adds.
You laugh lightly. "And now she's trying to marry me off to her nephew."
Polly's hard gaze is back on you, unapologetic and hardly leaving room for argument. "Either way," her words are firm, almost prophetic, as most of them are, "this thing you've got goin', it won't last. One day…it'll turn to blood in your mouth."
You stare at her, and you almost shiver at the ice running down your spine. There's a shock to what she says, and you have half a mind, not only to heed her words, but to fear them.
Still, you steel your nerves and offer a small smile, a pitiful reassurance of well-being. "I'll take care of it, Pol." You straighten your back. "I'm a Blinder, same as you. No one fucks with the Peaky Blinders."
She scoots closer, speaking closely to you as though what she says is a secret. She never blinks as she speaks to you, never wavers. She just stares you dead in the eyes as she warns, "He's a Blinder, too, sweetheart. Don't forget that."
You grant her a sober look, a silent confirmation that you hear and understand her. "I've got it, Polly." She examines you quickly before leaning back again, tilting her chin up as she nods and hums.
"In the meantime," Esme breaks the tension, "this is meant to be a celebration."
Ada nods, a smile returning to her face as she grabs her glass. "Right," she says, a new chipper in her tone. "To Midsummer, the beautiful beast of burden."
You grab your glass, a new grin on your lips. "I'll drink to that."
The glasses clink loudly in the air as you raise a simple toast to the horse you named with Tommy. Just as you're bringing the cup to your lips, Polly snatches it from you and sets it on the table.
You roll your eyes and groan, "What now?" She hardly gives you time to process, and even less time to actually finish your two-word sentence before her hand is clasping over your breast, groping you suddenly in her palm.
"What the hell?" you exclaim, moving away from her to no avail.
She looks up at you, furrowing her brows and finally letting go of you tit. "How late are you?"
You shrug, "A few days?"
"How many is a few?" She raises a brow.
You think for half a second. "Maybe a week," you confess. "But I'm never regular, what does it matter?"
Polly moves her hand to your belly, "Matters a lot." She sits back, staring you down with an intensity you find is common in her eyes.
"You're having a baby."
"What?"
"Polly, you're serious?" Ada questions.
She shrugs, "No reason to lie."
You pale, your mouth gaping like a fish as you try to process her words. "I'm…" You shake your head. "I'm pregnant?"
"Quite."
Your eyes are glued to the table, refusing to look at anyone until you've processed enough.
"Is it a Shelby baby?"
"Esme!" Your eyes shoot up to her, staring her down at her blunt question.
She's got no shame, raising her brow and shrugging. "Am I wrong?"
You turn your focus to Polly. "If this baby comes out like Tommy, there will be trouble," you say, urgent and scared and excited.
Polly presses her hand into your belly, feeling around for something as she closes her eyes to focus. The way she looks at you when she opens her eyes again, her face a mix of pride and wariness.
"You'd better clean your guns then."
Ada tilts her head, "Pol."
She announces it without regret. "It's a Shelby boy."
Your head feels cloudy, and the world is spinning slowly. You are suddenly aware of every breath passing through your lungs, every beat of your heart in your chest and pulse in your veins.
"I'm…" your breath shudders and you look at Polly. "I'm having a Shelby baby?"
Ada smiles wide, chuckling slightly, "I honestly don't know whether to hug you or feel sorry for ya."
Reaching for your glass, Esme tilts her head. "Did ya ever want kids?"
You shrug, watching her take your drink and pour it into her own. "When the boys left for war, I put the idea away," you admit.
Ada leans forward. "And now?"
You take a deep breath, looking at her. "And now…" you shake your head, "I'm pregnant, and the baby isn't my husband's."
Esme bobs her brows, bringing her glass to her lips. "You're the fucking his best man."
You turn your gaze on her, tilting your head with an exasperated sigh. "Thank you, Esme."
She just shrugs. Am I wrong?
~
"Alright, boys," Ada announces, setting her glass on the bar. "I think it's time for us to go home."
It's been hours and the party is still in full swing, but that's mostly because the Shelby's are here and in high spirits.
Arthur disagrees, groaning as he holds his arms open in protest. "Oh, come on! The night's only just begun." The men agree.
Ada laughs. "Well, one of you boys is gonna have to take me and Pol home. Who's it gonna be?"
Esme steps into her husband's space, her voice low but not quiet. She intertwines their hands and tilts her head at him. "And you and I, John, have to make sure the kids have been out to bed."
John smirks slowly, looking up at Arthur with lazy eyes. "On second thought, Arthur," he chuckles, "it is a good time to go home."
Arthur sulks a little, but not unplayfully. Tommy just shakes his head with a poorly concealed grin as he walks over to his sister next to you. "I'll take you home, Ada," he says.
"And I've got ya, Pol," Arthur agrees, accepting defeat.
Polly glances at you and Ada, smiling. "Such gentlemen, these two," she teases, already headed for Arthur.
"Come now, Henry," you turn to your husband. "Off we go."
He breathes a laugh, patting your hands on his chest. "If you insist."
You smile and walk toward John, who gives you a hug before he's leaving with Esme. Arthur wraps you up in a hug and lifts you off the floor just a slight. "Good night," he says. You repeat it back to him.
When you head toward Tommy, his arms are already opening to welcome you into a hug. His hug is tight and warm. It wraps around you like Arthur's but holds an intimacy you quickly become addicted to. It lasts a second too long before Tommy breaks it with a chaste kiss to your temple.
"Get home safe," he says, only glancing at Henry for a moment to convince him he's talking to the both of you.
You nod gently at him, staring at him too long. You wonder briefly if your baby will share his eyes. "You, as well, Tom Boy." You pat his chest and turn to Henry.
"Come on, husband," you smile at him, joining his side with an arm tucked behind his back. Henry starts walking you out the door as you wave behind you at everyone.
The night is dark as Henry helps you into the car, closing your door tightly before rounding to the other side to get in. It's as he's driving away that he speaks again, a hint of indignation in his tone diluted well with teasing. "I swear, sometimes the two of you don't feel like friends."
It feels like the tiny hairs along your arms prick at your skin then as you shrug and decide to play dumb. "Who?"
"You and Tommy," he glances at you.
You smile at him, offering a fond look as you take in the side of his face. For a moment, for a half of a second, you don't feel the bloom of affection you've grown accustomed to with your husband. For a half of a second, your mouth sours and your heart palpitates worriedly. You just brush it off and smile.
"Nonsense," you say as affectionately as you can. "If we weren't friends, what would we be?"
Henry shrugs heavily, his feigned teasing fading slightly into something more bitter. "I dunno," he sighs. "I just know I don't like it much."
You swallow thickly, turning from him again and staring out of the windshield. You sigh gently, brushing a hand over your belly and feeling your chest swell with fondness and anxiety.
"Don't worry, Henry, darling," you bid gently, hardly believing your own words as they leave your mouth, "no one's replacing you."
~
It's late as the lot of you pile into the theatre, big and bright and expensive. There's an opera tonight that you all have tickets to—Tommy wanted to spoil everyone and decided an opera was well-deserved.
When you take your seats, once again squished between Henry and Tommy, it only lasts a half hour before Tommy is standing and brushing past your row for a smoke. Without any way to make it less suspicious, you simply stand and walk off as well, following him away. Turning at the door to look over your shoulder, Henry hasn't even glanced your way.
The both of you walk out of the auditorium and through the halls where some patrons are still lingering about. As you step outside, the first thing you do is push him into the dark cover of night where you couldn't be seen by wandering eyes.
Tommy smirks, his chin tilted up as he looks down at you. "Isn't this a little suspicious?"
You shrug, placing your hands on his chest and sliding them up to cradle his neck. "He won't even notice I'm gone."
Without another word, you bring him down to your lips, eager to taste him again after not being able to for the past few days. Tommy is just as desperate at you, holding the back of your head and grasping your side as he backs you into the wall. No words are exchanged between the two of you. It's nothing but breath and stray moans as you devour one another.
By the time you pull away from him, you're breathless and warm and wanting. You smile, stroking a finger from cheek to chin. "I missed ya, Tommy."
He stares at you, his blue eyes piercing. When you don't look away, never wavering or blinking or fluttering, he smiles. You're one of the few people who can stand his intensity, and it warms his self-proclaimed dead heart.
"Aye," he breathes. He kisses you again before letting you go, pulling a cigarette from the inside of his coat. He drags it along his lips before setting it between them. You fish your lighter from your purse, flicking it to life and holding it under the end.
He puffs it a couple of times before he's offering it to you, knowing you would probably take it in a moment anyway. You turn it down, leaning against the wall and watching him. Neither of you speak, but the way he looks at you is so close to the way you look at him that you don't suppose either of you have to.
After a moment, he tilts his head. "What's on your mind, love?"
You mirror his tilt, "Nothing."
"Go on," he says, not believing you. "Tell me."
You shake your head with a gentle laugh, shrugging once. "Nothing serious, just a thought," you tell him. You glance down at your shoes. "What if I decided to have a kid?"
He lifts his brows, breathing in as he turns to face the street. "Finally giving Henry a child, eh?"
You breathe in deep, turning away as well. "Well, he is my husband, isn't he?"
That's right. He is your husband. So why isn't the baby his?
"What brought this on?" he asks, blowing out a smoky breath.
You toy with your fingers, brushing them over your belly tentatively. Your mind wanders briefly to earlier that evening, getting ready in front of the mirror and seeing the slight bump of your belly where your baby was growing. It stole your breath away. The only thing you wanted to do was run and tell Tommy, but now that you have the opportunity, you're suddenly worried.
You shrug and lie quickly, "All of John and Esme's, babysitting Karl when Ada's busy. Who knows, maybe the maternal instincts are finally kickin' in."
He hums. "You talked to Henry about it?" He says it almost expectantly, as if you have ever told Henry something before him.
"Eventually," you sigh. "He doesn't observe like you do, I suppose."
There's a moment of hesitance, an uncomfortable silence between the both of you as he thinks. "Well," he takes one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the damp ground and stamping it out, "I wish you and your hypothetical child luck."
He turns to you, offering his hand. "Until then, we should go back inside before they're missing us and await our next appointment," you take his hand, "Mrs. Reddoch."
You don't like the way he says it. It's as if he's reminding you that you have a husband you vowed your loyalty to. As if he isn't the man you've broken that vow with a hundred times over.
And not once have you regretted a single moment, but the guilt runs deep sometimes and his words do not comfort you.
Still, you pull a smile on and slip your hand into his elbow. "I'd be happy to oblige," you sigh. "Lead the way, Mr. Shelby."
He walks you back to the auditorium and down the few steps to your row where Henry looks up to see the both of you. You take your seats and offer a reassuring smile before turning your attention back to the stage where a ballroom dance is in full swing as a smooth tenor belts a romantic declaration.
Tommy's arm brushes yours on the armrest, and you glance at him. He doesn't look back, but you can see the tiny curve of his lips. You curl your pinky with his, turned away.
But then you feel Henry's hand on yours. You look at him fully, his gaze still fixated on the stage. You look down at his hand covering yours softly and smile, flipping your hand to hold his, intertwining your fingers. Removing your hand from Tommy's, you lean toward Henry as you rest your head on his shoulder. He smiles, glancing down at you and leaning his head on yours in return.
Tommy's grin is gone and his eyes are trained on the stage. He shouldn't be upset; Henry is your husband and you're considering starting a family with him. But with how long you've been Tommy's, how intimate the two of you have been again and again, he feels he has the right to be upset, even if that right is limited.
He doesn't look at you for the rest of the play, but you don't seem to notice. You nestle up to Henry the whole time, content.
When the play ends and everyone goes their separate ways, Tommy's goodbye is short. You wave to him as he walks out the door, but it's all you can do.
Henry takes you home, affectionate and loving and kind the whole time.
When you get there, he carries you up the stairs in his arms and lays you on the bed. He kisses you and strokes you and contains a softness you hadn't felt from him in a while.
But when he's rutting inside of you, the softness has completely dissipated and he becomes the desperate, rabid beast you're used to. He rips your clothes and grips you tightly, he sinks teeth into flesh and holds you down so you can hardly move.
You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he gives it and wishing he would return to the kindness he'd just offered you. His hand wraps around your throat and he squeezes.
When he's asleep beside you, a hand across your front as you stare up at the ceiling with damp eyes, you find yourself wishing for your best friend. You find yourself wishing to be in his bed, in his arms, with his baby in your belly.
But that won't happen—at least, not tonight. You look over at Henry's sleeping face (which still does not hold the warmth it once had before the war) and sigh, turning your body to face him as you try to cuddle close without waking him.
You close your eyes, inhaling his scent and wishing it was Tommy's, and lull yourself to sleep.
~
The next few days are confusing. When you're not working at the office, you're with the girls or Tommy or Henry.
Tommy's been sort of strange lately, dismissive one day and happy to be with you the next. Henry is as complicated as he always is, soft and caring one moment, rough and demanding the next.
You've spent your alone time trying to figure out how to tell them both about the baby growing inside of you.
You thought today would be the day.
The sun is shining and the breeze blowing in the wind is gentle and undisturbed. Debutante, your Morgan horse, walks slowly, the clip-clops of her hooves muffled by fields of grass next to Chance, Tommy's French Trotter.
Holding onto the reins as you ride front saddle—as you often refuse to ride side—you smile at Tommy.
Conversation has been scarce since you invited Tommy out for a ride. You missed him. You want to spend time with him, and you know this is one way he won't refuse.
"It's a wonderful day," you try, raising your brows with a smile as you tease him about the lack of conversation.
It takes him a moment to respond, but he does. "Yes, it is," he says.
You absent-mindedly pet Debbie behind her ear. "Was looking forward to it."
He sighs, glancing over at you with half a teasing expression. "Why? Are you looking for a quick fuck?"
You chuckle, although not comfortably. You feel like he's holding back from you and it's making you anxious. "Maybe," you kid. When he doesn't show any sign of amusement, you take it back. "Tommy, I'm joking. I just enjoy our time together, is all."
He practically cuts off the end of your sentence when he speaks again, his jaw slightly clenched and his eyes cold. "Do you love your husband?"
You blink, forcing a breath out of your lungs that sounds like a laugh as you shake your head. Pulling on the reins just enough, your horse stops. "What?" When he doesn't respond, although he eases his own horse to stop as well, you glance down at your hands and then back up at him. "He's my husband."
"That doesn't answer me question," he replies.
You steel your nerves and clear your throat, glancing up at him, though your eyes stop at his collar. "Of course I do."
He raises a brow. "Then why are you here with me?"
You are frustrated now, abandoning all attempts at dissolving the tension. "Maybe because I like being with the infamous Tommy Shelby." The sarcasm in your tone is not hidden, and you nearly find yourself speaking through clenched teeth.
"More than you like being with your own husband?" he inquires.
You're sick of him and you're going to push him off his horse. Not meeting his gaze, you swallow thickly. "I don't know what you mean."
He nearly rolls his eyes. He knows you, and he knows that you know exactly what he means. You're a dirty liar, and he knows it all.
"Shouldn't you be spending time with him?" he clarifies. "Or did you just want to fuck again?"
The look you give him is not as offended as it is entirely unbelieving. You run your tongue along your teeth, scoffing through your scowl. You turn away and bid Debutante to walk. "Tommy," you offer an olive branch, a chance for him to step down, "you're acting strange."
He follows after you as he continues his verbal attack. You wish he hadn't—your fists are aching to make contact with his jaw. The distance the horses give you is the only thing preventing you from such violence.
Although you know you would never actually hit him, you don't have it in you. But what you won't do in physicality, you will do in words if he does not let up.
"Do you want him?"
It sounds like an accusation and you grit your teeth. "He's my husband," you repeat, almost sounding like a broken record. You sense Tommy's words before he says them and revise your response. "Of course I want him."
He hums, "I'd argue if you wanted him, you'd be with him right now."
You guide your horse to stop in front of his own, blocking his path at a cross and staring him down with wide eyes. "Careful, Thomas," you warn. "Someone might think you're jealous."
His face doesn't betray emotion and it's infuriating. You can always read him, always…but right now, you're finding that hard to do.
"I've no reason to be jealous," he says after a beat too long. It's a blow to your heart, and you don't know why.
"Oh, really?" you seethe. "You're not upset you've gotta share me with another man?"
He shifts his head to the side, and a hint of the frustration he's feeling seeps into his face for half a second. "Careful," he says, an echo of your own words before, "someone might think you just enjoy being a skank."
The look that crosses your face is something deeper than a scowl. With wide eyes and a mouth agape, you glare this man down with all the bitterness in your soul. It is silent for a while as you both process his words. When you break that silence, it's with a voice low and dangerous, teetering on the edge of murderous.
"What the fuck…did you just say to me?"
He's too proud to take it back, lifting his chin and staring you down like you are small compared to him. "Don't you?" he continues. "You'd rather stay with that bastard and fuck me on the side. Have him wonder where all those marks on your neck are coming from, eh?" He motions toward your neck, where you've got a scarf tied securely around to hide the bite marks in your skin from Henry's excitement.
You shake your head, your breath and heartbeat fast and unsteady. "Shut up, Thomas."
"Am I wrong?"
"Yes," you urge. "As a matter of fact, you are." When he doesn't speak, you take it as your chance to add on. You take control of the reins, taking the few extra steps to sit next to him, completely facing him down as you fume.
"Maybe I'm here spending time with you because it's something I actually enjoy." you hiss, jabbing your finger into his chest before leaning back again with a sneer as you lick your bottom lip. "But, of course," you scoff, "that's hard to believe, seeing as you're Thomas fucking Shelby. Biggest arsehole in England."
He shakes his head. "No," he mutters. "Don't get angry with me because I reminded you of your husband's existence."
You burst. "D'you ever think I'm fucking angry because you called me a fucking skank, Peaky bastard?"
He shrugs, "I wouldn't have to call you one if you had thought about being loyal."
You hate him. You fucking hate him. His expressions are nearly too emotionless to read, his tone doesn't match yours as you shout in your frustration. He is way too calm as he insults you time and time again, taking your argument like it's nothing, as if he isn't fazed in the slightest. It kills you, and you hate him.
You grit your teeth and try to calm yourself, clenching and unclenching your fists as you attempt to bring your voice down to no avail. "Might I remind you, you're the one I'm fucking behind my husband's back. If you didn't enjoy us, just fucking tell me instead of using your fancy language to insult me!"
By the end of your words, you're shouting and your voice breaks. You hate it, you hate him.
He raises a finger at you and betrays the first clear emotion you've seen on his face since the fight began. Rage.
"Don't you think for one moment I didn't enjoy us."
You groan so loud, it might as well be characterized as a scream with the way it tears at your throat. You slap your hand down on your thigh, wishing you were in a room with a hard surface that you could use instead of being mounted on a horse and too concerned with hurting her to properly portray your rage. "You're fucking ridiculous! You don't make any bloody sense, Thomas." You force a breath from your lungs and look him dead in the eyes. "Do you want me or not?"
He doesn't answer your question, and you hate him. "And what about your husband?"
You practically spit the words. "Fuck my husband."
"Fuck your husband?"
"Fuck him."
"So you don't love him." He states it as fact, and you hate him.
You pull back from him. There's nothing you could do or say that could properly portray the anger and frustration and betrayal you feel in this moment and you give up. You're not going to compromise anymore, you've just given up.
"You know what?" You let it spill. "Fuck you, Thomas." You let it all out. "I'm not going to waste anymore of my time arguing with you over… I don't even fucking know what we're arguing about. I wanted to spend time with you, and you decided to shame me for wanting you." You look up to try and blink away your tears but quickly decide you don't care. If they fall, they fall, and you're just lucky enough that they linger in your eyes a little longer. "God, I thought you were fucking different." You sniff and shake your head. "But you're just some fucking Peaky bastard."
He raises his brows, pointing at himself. "I'm a Peaky bastard?" Just like you, he lays it all out on the line, and he doesn't care if it hurts. He's cruel and uncaring and his voice is too level and too quietly enraged for any of the words he unleashes upon you.
"You've got no loyalty, no fucking self respect." His voice is low and rough. "You're a dirty whore and a goddamn liar, and you can shove all that love and want up your arse. You're nothing but a pathetic slut begging for attention."
It's completely silent. Neither of you speak, neither of you look away from the other. His eyes are wide with anger and his lips are pressed in a thin line. Yours are wide with shock, mouth ajar and trembling.
Your heart is unsteady in your chest, pounding quickly and roughly against your ribcage. After staring too long, you look down at your shaking hands, unable to hold his eye contact any longer as the tears blurring your vision finally spill down your cheeks. You swallow thickly, closing your lips and licking the salty tears off of them quickly.
There's a curling feeling in your chest that grows worse and worse with each passing second you spend under his scrutinizing gaze, and you brush your hand over your stomach as the feelings get even worse. You shake your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip as you breath out a slow, trembling breath.
When you speak, your voice is tremulous, broken up by tears and breath. You don't look at his face to see the layers of aggression peeling back at the sight of you so shattered.
"...I need space."
You linger for half a second before tutting gently to Debutante. She starts moving, taking off in a sprint at your command. Tommy turns to watch you leave, but he doesn't move, he doesn't call after you, he just lets you go. He lets you leave him behind.
And he hates it.
~
Clouds have gathered in the darkened sky by the time you get home, hours after your fallout with Tommy which you spent crying and trying to get a hold of yourself.
It was a lot to process: the insults, the betrayal, the anger, the sorrow, the rejection of you and your unborn son. Too much.
You unlock the front door of your house just as the first drops of rain begin to sprinkle down. "Henry?" you call, closing and locking the door behind you with a sigh. "Love, I'm home."
You hear his footsteps through the house and plaster a smile on your face to see him. You meet him halfway, walking into the living room and stopping when you see his fallen face.
"Where have you been?" he inquires. His arms are crossed over his chest and his stance is wide. He's undone his tie as it lays lazily across his shoulders. His hair is tousled just enough to notice, as though he'd run his hands through it a couple of times.
You straighten your spine and clasp your hands together in front of you. "I was just out with Thomas—Tommy."
He turns his head away, clenching his jaw and nodding. "Tommy," he repeats stiffly. He looks back at you. "You're always out with Tommy."
You nod once, slowly. "I am," you agree. You look away and then back at him, struggling to meet his gaze from the uncertainty of your own words. "He's… He's my best mate, of course I am."
He hums, his jaw ticking. "You don't think maybe your husband is supposed to be the one you're always with?"
You tilt your head, eyes darting unsteadily. "Am I not allowed to have friends?"
He takes a step toward you and you're consumed by gooseflesh. "I don't like how he looks at you."
You're defensive now, but it's less in defense of Tommy and your broken relationship and more of your wavering honor which has been violated enough today.
"What are you talking about? It's Tommy, he looks at me like a person should."
He raises his brows, not believing you. "And the way he touches you?"
You swallow, taking a breath before you can lose your posture again. You stand up a little straighter again, your gaze stuck on his shoes to avoid his cold gaze. "He's just a friend."
He shakes his head, frustrated and spent. "Stop lying to me."
You shake your own head, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. "I'm not lying. He's Tommy. He's just Thomas."
He walks closer and you tense every muscle on your body to keep from flinching as he wags his finger at you. "Then you need to remind him of that because the way you are with him, the way he is with you…nothing about that is friendly."
"Henry." You step forward, taking his face in your hands and massaging your thumbs over his cheeks. You linger there for a moment, smiling, though you can smell the lingering alcohol on his breath. "Henry, there is only you. It's just you."
You hope he believes you and you pray he leaves it alone because, if not, you're afraid of how he would react. You're afraid.
He grabs your wrist and you flinch, though he does not hurt you. Pulling your hands away, he leans forward. "Then you are not to see him anymore, not without me there."
You put your hands down and take a tiny step back. "Henry…"
"I'm not the jealous type," he continues, "but what's mine is fucking mine. Tommy can't have fucking everything!"
You flinch when he shouts, stepping away from him uneasily. You steady yourself again and shake your head, daring to look at him. "Henry," you're quiet, "you can't just say I can't see him anymore."
"Yes, I can," he says, his eyes wide and wild and terrifying. "I am your husband, you are my wife. You belong to me." His tone is becoming harsh and you're afraid.
You try to remain firm, but you're afraid. "I don't belong to anyone–"
It is your fault, you admit. You should not have spoken back to him like that, it was bound to provoke him. But you did, and you pay the consequences as he steps forward and takes a hold of your wrist. You wince and you whimper when he squeezes it in a vice grip, paralyzing.
"You're mine," he growls.
You can't stop the flow of tears on your face as the overwhelming emotions from before stack onto the ones you're feeling now. It's too much, you crumble.
"You're hurting me," you mewl.
He's terrifying, glaring and bruising you. He brings down his voice, but it's no less cutting as he snarls. "Are you fucking Thomas Shelby?"
You pale, "No, Henry."
He jerks you. "Swear it."
"I swear!"
He watches you, and you watch the anger worsen into a violent rage. "You lying whore!" He lets go of you roughly, and you hold your wrist in your hand.
He circles, jabbing his finger in your direction. "I should have known," he rages. "From the fucking beginning, I should have known."
Your voice is weak, tired from yelling all day and crying even more recently. You stare at your shoes. "I swear, Henry, we've never done anything."
He swings around, delivering a harsh slap to your cheek which jerks you to the side and trips you up. You fall, catching yourself on your knees. You're unsurprised, and all you do is hold your cheek.
He stands over you, grabbing your shoulder and turning you around to face him. He's livid and you're terrified, but you're unsurprised. He points at you again, making sure he's clearly heard.
"You are not allowed to see him anymore," he commands, his voice menacing. "I own you. Don't you ever forget that."
It's silent, and you stare at him with blurry tears in your eyes. "Henry, husband, please..." You swallow thickly. "I love you.
He shakes his head, "Shut your whore mouth. Don't you sit there and lie to me."
He reaches down and pulls you close to his face by the front of your shirt. He hoists you to your feet and you panic, in fear of what he will do.
"Wait! Henry, I'm pregnant!"
He lets go of you, stumbling backward. You stand on your feet, staying still for fear that he would still attack at any sudden movement.
He stares at you, his eyes wide with shock. You can't read anything past that and it scares you to death. It's so silent, you can now clearly make out the storm outside the house, thundering and pouring against the roof and windows.
"What?" It's the softest you'd heard him all night.
You sigh and splay your hand out over your abdomen. "I'm pregnant," you repeat, straining to smile. "Polly told me. I was trying to tell you, but I was so worried. I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry."
Henry stares at your face, then down to your hands. He swallows hard, walking back again. Then he shakes his head, staring at the floor. "No."
You blink. "What?"
He shakes his head again. "No. That's not…" He scoffs, raising a finger but dropping it, "You're not…"
You furrow your brows. "I'm pregnant," you say. You take a step forward, he takes one back. "You're going to be a father." He doesn't speak and you advance with slow steps. Your hands are shaking as you reach for his face, but you do it anyway. It takes a moment to make contact with him, and when you do, your hands jump.
You look him in the eyes. "Don't you want that?"
He stares at you, and for a moment you think maybe. Maybe there's hope. Maybe things would change. Maybe.
But then he shakes his head. "No."
Your breath hitches and shakes, "What?"
He grabs your wrists and jerks them away from him, and you wince again. He walks away, his back turned to you as he shakes his head again, leaning over the couch. "I don't want children."
You're past breathless. "Why… Why not? You don't want a baby with me?"
He turns to you, pointing and shaking his head, frantic. "I can't, I don't–"
"If you're scared, it's okay. It's okay, we'll get through it together."
He cuts you off, "I don't want a child!" He huffs, running a hand down his face. "This… That is not mine." He points at your stomach.
Your lips part and you huff. Your eyes burn. "But…" you mumble, "you married me. You said you wanted a family with me, you wanted to raise our children." Your jaw trembles and you're sick of crying.
He turns to you, his eyes hard. He's yelling again. "That was before the war. Things change. That child, that thing in your body, I don't want it."
You gape at him, your distress turning to rage. "What the fuck do you mean you don't want it?" You step forward and, in your frustration, you shove him back. "He's ours! Our son, our boy!"
He doesn't argue back, he turns and heads toward the small table in the living room where the telephone sat.
"What are you doing?"
"We're getting rid of it," he says flatly, his tone final. But you are not.
"The fuck we are!"
He turns on you quickly. He shouts louder than the crack of thunder outside and you jump. "You are not having that child! I will not have it."
You clench your fists. "How dare you?" you spit.
You step forward just to confront him again, but he's not going to take it. As soon as you step close to him, he shoves you back so hard, you fall to the ground and feel as though you've skinned your elbow trying to catch yourself.
His anger is explosive, as it always has been. His commands echo around the walls and vibrate in your bones. His hair is a mess, thrown all out of sorts with his sporadic movements.
"You will do as I fucking say! That child—yours, mine, Tommy fucking Shelby's—you are not having it. You belong to me, and I say what you can and cannot do." He kneels down in front of you, and you stare with wide eyes of fear and anger. He lowers his voice, back down to a menacing growl as he puts his face so close to yours, you can feel his breath on your cheeks as he speaks. He grips the front of your dress again, pulling you closer still. "How fucking dare you come into my house and try to put your hands on me?"
You're done yelling. You're done fighting. This is your baby, your son, and you will decide whether or not you keep him. He won't take it away, he can't.
"I hate you," you say. Your voice is so quiet, raspy from all the yelling and broken from the crying.
He lets go of you, standing up and looking down on you. "You never loved me."
You shake your head. "I did once… when you were kind." You lament the man you knew, but know that he is gone and he is never coming back.
He shakes his head, raising his brows. "You never loved me." His voice cracks at the end, but you refuse to feel guilty. You're done.
"You're a beast."
He licks his lips, tilting his chin up to increase his superiority. "And you're a whore who is not bringing a baby under my roof." He turns and walks back to the phone. "I'm calling a doctor to be rid of it."
The adrenaline that passes through your veins is too great for you to properly process what happens next until after it's already done.
You push yourself to your feet and reach for the stand next to the sofa, a drawer holding a gun. You pull the drawer open roughly, Henry hears, and moves just as quickly as you. You take the gun, but before you can secure it in your grip, he's knocking it out of your hands and kicking it away.
He moves to you next. Bending down, he wraps his hands around your throat and pushes you onto your back. He applies pressure, pressing his thumbs down onto your windpipe, and your head feels hot. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
You take hold of his arms, straining to get your words out. "Fuck you," you cough. "You're not hurting him."
The look in his eyes is the most terrifying look you had ever seen in your life. They seem to light up, and his scowl stresses into a cruel grin. He lets go of you, standing and straightening his spine as he stares you down through his nose again.
"The hard way then."
~
Unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves, Tommy walks down his stairs as he nears the front door of his home. It's late and thundering and he has no idea why anyone would need to speak to him so far into the night.
As he reaches the bottom step, removing the gun from a drawer beside the door, he stuffs it in his belt behind his back and stretches his neck to his shoulder. He sighs, long and exhausted and ready to go back upstairs and forget this day ever existed.
He's already speaking as he's pulling open the door. "Whoever it is, I'm sure this could wait 'til–"
He stops abruptly at the sight of you. You're shuddering, bracing yourself on the door frame and doubled over with a hand across your abdomen. All he can see is your hair as you hang your head low, breathing quick, shallow breaths that sound too strained for you to still be standing.
Your car is parked haphazardly in the drive, engine still running and lights still blaring bright onto your back.
"Fucking hell," he breathes.
You look up at him, and he takes you in. Your eyes are red and wet with your hair sticking to your face, which is smeared with blood. Your clothes are a mess, glued to your body from rain and more blood. You try to shift, but it's to no avail as you groan from the pain in your ankle. You've got blood on your lips and some dripping from under your dress and down your bare foot as well. You're not wearing shoes, he can imagine the scrapes on the soles of your feet.
You shiver, willing your lips to move so you can speak. Your words are barely coherent, run together by staggered breaths and stuttering teeth and tongue.
"I didn't know where else to go."
Tommy comes to his senses then, rushing forward into the rain without care and taking you into his arms. When he tries to help you walk and it fails, he dips down and carries you into the cover of his warm house in his arms. You bury your face in his chest, still trembling in his embrace.
He set you down on the couch, slowly and carefully, afraid to hurt you more. He pulls a pillow under your head as he lays you down slowly. You're still holding your stomach, and being this close lets him see that your arm is broken. Looking down at your leg, so is your ankle. You whimper meekly, unable to keep in your pained sounds.
Tommy tilts your chin up just enough to get a better look at your face in this lighting. He delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by your mouth, saying nothing as he examines it. After a brief pause, your heart skips a nervous beat as he looks you dead in the eyes. His voice is quiet and tense, his anger barely restrained as flares of anger bubble within him and he clenches his jaw.
"Who did this to you?"
His words are dangerous, made of ice and fire, a growled threat that does not translate in your head.
A tiny, pathetic sound slips from your lips as you curl into yourself. "It hurts." Your voice is so small, it tears his heart in two and thaws it just enough to set his anger to the side for long enough to comfort you.
Tommy isn't used to seeing you so weak. You've always been too strong, tough and sarcastic with too much wit and too much bite.
Now you're lying on his couch, trembling and sobbing into the cushions, covered in blood and rain.
He strokes his hand down the side of your face, moving hair from your forehead and grazing his fingers over your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the feeling of his hand, but it somehow makes you cry harder. "Tell me where it hurts," he says, his voice softening with each second spent watching you.
You just clench your stomach, your face squishing in sorrow. He moves his hand down to rest on your side, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand. There's no sign of a wound on your stomach, no pooling blood or shred in your dress where you grasp.
"He took it all away," you sob, though it doesn’t quite reach as deeply in your soul as you need it to, to process and understand the depths of which this pains you to admit. Because he took it all away, and he can never give it back.
Tommy stiffens, looking at you as he tries to understand. "What are you saying?"
You open your eyes, staring at his face and reaching toward him with the hand not injured. Your fingertips graze his cheeks and your breath shudders. You swallow hard, pulling your hand away to clench it tightly before slamming it into the couch.
"Our son."
Tommy stills completely, staring at you in utter shock and disbelief. The way you break down on the words, hoarse—nearly silent—cries pulling from your throat and pouring out all over the place makes his heart stutter. You repeat it under your breath, reaching out and taking Tommy's hand, grasping it tight. "Our son."
"What?" he mutters.
A sorrowful smile creeps onto your lips, a terrible mix of agony for the baby you've lost and remembrance of what you could have had. "I was gonna have a baby, Tom," you cry. "'A Shelby baby,' Polly said. A boy."
He looks down at your belly again with a new consideration, moving his hand down to feel you with breath caught in his throat. "You're pregnant?" he asks.
Your mournful grin fades and you bury the top half of your face in the pillow beneath your head. Shaking your head, you gasp and hiccup on a sob.
"He took it all away."
~
Lighting his cigarette, Henry ventures into the living room. He stretches his arms out, releasing the tense muscles in his back from sleeping last night. He sighs as he travels to the window. When he pulls open the curtains and turns around, he startles and has half a mind to reach for his gun. But upon realizing who it is, he huffs a sigh and shakes his head.
“Jesus, Tommy,” he rolls his eyes, looking back at the man sitting on his sofa.
Tommy leans back against the chair, a cigarette between his own lips as he says nothing. He stares at Henry, still and emotionless. Henry sighs, placing his hands in his pockets. “Have you seen my wife?” he turns to the cabinet holding his liquor to pour himself a glass, regardless of the hour. “She left last night, hasn’t been back.”
Tommy doesn’t move for another moment before finally breathing in slowly. He reaches up and takes the cigarette between his fingers, taking one last drag before putting it out against the coffee table. "Last night," he sighs and points the cigarette at him, "your wife came to me house, soaked from the rain with blood on her clothes. Could barely stand."
He flicks it away, folding his hands over his lap and crossing his legs. He tilts his head, watching Henry closely. "'It hurts,' she told me. 'He took it all away'." He looks down at his lap, remembering your pitiful face, and then back up at him.
Henry doesn't speak, his face fallen in solemnity as he doesn't even pretend to not know what Tommy's talking about. He doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be concerned.
Tommy inclines his head, furrowing his brows just a little as he takes him in. A long moment of silence passes between them before he fills it again. "She was pregnant. 'A Shelby baby,' she said."
Henry shows the first signs of emotion then, scowling as he shakes his head and scoffs. "Fucking knew it," he snarls.
Tommy pulls his gun from the inside of his jacket, toying with it in his hands as if it's nothing as he looks down at it. Henry reaches for his own, but realizes quickly that it's gone. He doesn't have one of his person and the one on the side table has since been removed.
Even with the gun in his hands, Tommy's face hasn't changed. He looks calm, too calm. Even as he stands, moving slowly and with steps so small, it's a wonder how he'll ever reach Henry, who stiffens and clenches his jaw as he recognizes his shortcomings.
"We've been good friends a long time, Henry," he continues, stroking his hand over the barrel. "A long time. War time."
Henry sniffs, still scowling as his hard gaze stays glued to Tommy. "Yeah, well," he licks his bottom lip, "friends don't sleep with each other's wives."
Tommy cocks the gun, but still doesn't point it. The sound alone is enough to shut Henry up either way, so it doesn't matter. "But she and I have been friends for much longer," he says. He finally looks at him again, his eyes cold and piercing. He stops in front of him, his chin tilted up to show he stills holds power over him.
"You see," he says, "She's my girl, always has been. She was going to have a baby, a Shelby boy, my boy." His breath picks up a little, the frustration and anger rising within his chest as he looks at the man who took so much from him.
"Tommy," Henry says quietly, as if there was anything he could say or do to save his life right then and there.
Tommy motions to him with his gun. "You hurt her."
"She shouldn't have hurt me!" Henry shouts, his voice cracking at the end in rage.
Tommy raises the gun so quickly, Henry hardly had time to process it. He presses the end to his temple, watching Henry's eye twitch at the fact that Tommy could pull the trigger at any moment and blow the brains from his head.
Tommy's voice, still quiet and dangerous, is no longer as patient as he speaks down to him. "You beat my child out of her womb." He huffs, "You murdered him and almost took her with him."
Henry, despite the barrel to his skull, retaliates. "I should have taken her with it."
Tommy shouts, moving the gun from Henry's head and pointing it to his own, pressing it against his temple roughly. He shouts at the top of his voice, which is rough and cracks a little at the exclamation born of pain and rage. "It was my fucking son!"
Frightened by his behavior, Henry trembles as he holds his hands up in useless surrender, shaking his head and forcing the words from his throat. "She's my wife," he says. "She loves me."
Tommy puts the gun back to his head, watching Henry cower with heavy breath and shaky hands. He rolls his head back, staring up at the ceiling and closing his eyes.
He looks back at him, clenching his jaw once before deciding not to prolong this long away justice anymore. He shakes his head, "I love her more."
Bang!
He doesn't flinch when the warm, sticky blood splatters on his pale face. Henry's body drops to the floor, blood seeping out and soaking the carpet.
Tommy let his arm drop, letting the gun fall from his hand and clatter to the floor. He sighs.
"'He took it all away,' she said."
~
The feeling of consciousness washes over you in an unpleasant way, and you immediately miss the cover of sleep as you take in a lethargic breath. Your eyes flutter as you struggle to get them to open, wincing at the bright, pale light invading your senses as you slowly come to.
Once in touch with your body, you turn your head to the side and groan at the discomfort of the single movement. You can barely open your eyelids enough to see. They're so heavy, it's almost as if they're glued down by your lashes to your cheeks. You see a sliver of being from where your vision allows, a man in a suit, expensive.
You hum. Your voice is hoarse, both from sleep and the soreness that resides there. "Tommy…" you mumble intelligibly.
"Not quite." The coarseness of Arthur's voice reminds, though still muffled with exhaustion, fills your ears.
His large hands move slowly to grasp your own, taking it so gently, you almost think you imagined it. You take a deep breath in, as deep as you lungs allow without reminding you of the same reason your voice is sore. You smile softly, "Arthur."
Finally able to open your eyes, slowly but surely adjusting to the light, you look at him smile at you. There's a sluggishness in his eyes that makes your chest ache, but you dismiss it as soon as he speaks. "Hello, love," he greets in a low, gentle tone. "How are you feelin'?"
You groan, shrugging—although, you're pretty certain you didn't move an inch. "What happened?"
Arthur shifts, clearing his throat. Your vision clears as you look at him. He’s disheveled, messy hair, messy clothes. You furrow your brow, watching him decide how to respond. “You went to Tommy last night. He said you…” He clears his throat again, glancing around the room just to not have to look you in the eyes as he says it, “...you were pregnant.”
It hits you like a train, the memories of the night before flooding your mind and filling you with the dread you had greeted Tommy with before. Your throat closes up and your lips tremble. You feel as though the walls are caving in, like the world has stopped revolving as the tears prick at your eyes and threaten to well. You look away from Arthur, staring up at the ceiling and trying to blink the tears away before they can form, but it’s of no use.
You try to lift your arm to cover your face, only to groan when the pain there blossoms and shocks through your body like fire. Arthur grabs your hand again, still holding it in an attempt to soothe you. He glances away still, as though he is trying to contain his own tears.
None of the Shelby boys were used to seeing you cry, seeing you so low and pained. His lashes clump together as he blinks too quickly, struggling to watch you suffer like this.
You inhale sharply, swallowing hard. “Where’s Tommy?” you ask on a shaky breath, looking around. You try to sit up, but Arthur doesn’t let you, gently pushing you back down as soon as you wince and groan at the pain spiking all over your body.
“He’s on his way,” Arthur insists, laying you back down. He goes to softly pat your shoulder, but rethinks his decision as soon as he lifts his hand. “Had to take care of business.”
You look at him, sighing shakily. You lick your dry lips. “Business,” you repeat knowingly.
Arthur nods slowly, looking back and forth from your eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Business.”
You nod back, staring at the sterile whiteness of the ceiling with eyes beginning to blur. You clear your throat weakly, upset when your voice still comes out strained. “Can I…have the room, please?”
Arthur shakes his head quickly, refusing to be swayed. “Tom said not to let you leave my sight.” He says it finally, nodding his head to set his words in stone.
“Arthur, please,” you insist, looking at him. A tear slips down your cheek, disappearing into your hair as you stare at him. His stony resolve crumbles when you look at him like that and he looks away from you. He clears his throat, standing and shifting back and forth on his legs before motioning toward the door.
“I’ll be outside,” he informs awkwardly.
“Thank you,” you nod.
“Yeah.”
He disappears out of the door, and you let the tears fall. They stream down your face with an urgency they don’t need, hasty in their quests to wet your cheeks. You try to keep quiet, which only makes your throat burn more with the pain your silent cries hold.
You don’t know how long you cry for. You just know that, by the time that door opens again, all of your tears have dried up, leaving you feeling numb and cold. You turn your head to the door as it opens, half expecting for Arthur to come back in.
When you see Tommy, you feel as though you could spare a few tears in celebration of his return. But instead, you just stare at him and breathe in slowly.
He’s happy to see you, though he doesn’t show it nearly as much as it seems he would like to. His eyes clear some of the worry he feels when he lays them on you, and he closes the door back behind him. He doesn't move toward you, offering a small smile. “You’re awake,” he points out uselessly, putting his hands in his pockets.
“You killed him?”
Tommy's smile falters, returning to the solemn look you know well. He sighs, very quiet and unassuming, and nods his head with tiny movements. “I did,” he says plainly. He examines your face, noting the lack of change at the confession as you continue to stare. “How do you feel about that?”
It takes a moment to respond because you have to think about it, taking a moment to mull over the details—vague and unimportant details. “I dunno yet,” you say after a long while, continuing to watch Tommy, as though he’d disappear and leave you alone forever if you looked away.
Tommy nods, looking down at his dark shoes. He removes his hands from his pockets, sitting down on the chair next to the door. He’s too far away, way too far away. You shift your head, moving the hand closest to him to face palm up. “Please come here,” you bid softly, desperately.
He stands without fuss, making his way over to you and sitting on the chair Arthur had once occupied. It’s silent when he settles. There’s no shift of his clothes from moving, there’s no tick of some clock in the room, there’s no bird outside the window. Just silence.
You look down at yourself, in the bed with the covers pulled up to your chest. You shake your head, hating the way you feel—vulnerable and useless. You sigh, moving to sit up. “I’m still laying in this bed,” you ramble, pushing covers off of you. “Why am I laying in this bed? I don’t want to lay down.”
You suck in a breath through your teeth as you try to sit up, closing your eyes shut. Tommy moves, shaking his head as he tries to keep you laying under the sheets. “Don’t try to move. You’ll hurt yourself,” he tells you, a warm hand on the junction of your neck and shoulder and a warm hand on your hip to keep you steady.
You lay back, ignoring the pain as you bring your palms to your face, rubbing them into your eyes as you groan frustratedly in retaliation. “I’m fine,” you insist, looking at him again with blurry eyes.
He leans in close. “You’re a liar.”
“I have to be with you.”
The repeated words from days ago hit him in a different way as you say them now, staring at him with glossy eyes and shaking hands. He tilts his chin up, sighing to himself. You have to lie when you’re with him. You’ve been lying for years, he supposes.
Tommy clenches his jaw, letting the words sink in as he blinks away from you. His eyes fall back on you after a moment too long. “Why did you never tell me?”
You swallow hard, looking away. “It wasn’t your burden to bear.”
“Don’t give me that.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head as he says it, stopping himself with another steadying sigh. He opens his eyes and stares at you, at the cuts and bruises on your face, your chest, your arms. He remembers the blood you were soaked in when you came to him last night, the way you could hardly stand, the way you clenched your stomach and sobbed into his chest as he carried you inside. He stifles the tears in his eyes.
“What did he do to you?”
You don’t look at him yet, grounding yourself before you threw yourself into an explanation that was bound to make you want to cry. You lick your bottom lip, tasting the coppery taste of your split lip in the process. You breathe in slowly, exhale slowly, flex your fingers and blink your eyes. Stalling. Just stalling.
But you had to explain. He had to understand.
You only glance at him and shrug, struggling to find your voice but using it well when you did. “The war changed all you boys.” Tommy stares at you, not once backing down as his eyes begged to hear what you had to say, to hear what forced you to stay silent all these years. “You came back, heart of stone. Danny lost his mind… Henry became rough.”
You swallow hard at the word and Tommy understands what you mean. Your words from so many mornings before echo in his mind.
"You're not the only man who's rough in bed, Tommy Boy.”
He sighs. You continue. “It was only then, really. A little too hard here, too rough there. If he was frustrated, he held on a little too tight.” You close your eyes, trying to push the memories down. Opening your mouth to speak, the words won’t come out even as you form them. You clear your throat, shaking your head to clear your mind. “If he was beating me bloody every day, I’d have killed him myself. But I didn’t. ‘Cause he wasn’t. He was mostly kind. But he was hurt, the war caught up to him and followed him home.”
You look at Tommy finally, your eyes pained. “The war changed all you boys.”
Tommy processes everything, looking down to his lap and trying not to draw attention to the way he wiped at his teary eyes. He sniffs when he looks back up, rubbing his nose and slowly finding your eyes again. “You should have told me,” he says. It’s almost a reprimand, upset that he could have helped you from the beginning, had you told him.
You shake your head, chuckling as you slowly smile. At least he’s concerned, even if you don’t want him to be, even if you never wanted him to be—the reason you’d never told him in the first place. Tommy has enough to worry about.
“I was fine.” Your laugh is watery, and you wheeze a little at the pain in your chest with each contraction of your lungs. “I had you.” You reach out and touch his face, placing your palm on his cheek and stroking your thumb over his sharp cheekbones.
He stares at you a moment, his face still fallen with dismay. He reaches up and takes your hand from his face, only to hold it between both his large ones and squeeze gently, as if he’s reassuring yourself that you are here and safe. He leans forward, resting his forehead on your joined hands and closing his eyes, inhaling deeply and letting it out in a long, slow sigh.
You lean forward as well, moving slowly to disturb your healing body as little as possible. You set your head on his, resting your cheek in his dark hair. “You’re a Peaky bastard, Tom, but you’re my Peaky bastard.”
You both stay like that for a while, enjoying the other’s peace with closed eyes and steady breaths. He lifts his head, which shifts your head away so he can look at you. “You were wrong before,” he says.
You raise a brow, “About?”
He shakes his head, his eyes darting all over your face, from your own eyes to your lips to the cut on your brow. “I’m not jealous,” he tells you. He reaches one hand up, moving some hair from your forehead. “I can’t be jealous about something that’s already mine.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. “What about my husband?” you test.
Again, he shakes his head. “Fuck your husband.”
“Fuck my husband?”
“Fuck him.”
Tommy brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, his thumbs brushing the skin. “You’re mine,” he says definitely.
The corners of your lips turn up a little, disappearing just as fast as it appeared. “Funny,” you comment. “That’s what he said.”
Tommy raises a brow. “And?”
You shrug lazily. “And when he said it, I wanted to kill him. When you say it…” You smile just a little bit, “When you say it, I just want to kiss you pretty.”
Without another moment to spare, Tommy sets a hand on your cheek and brings you forward as he leans into you. His lips press against yours, and it feels like the first time. You sigh against the feeling of his mouth on yours, lifting your hand to brush your knuckles against his jaw line. A tingle makes its way through your body, starting from your lips and rushing down your spine.
You twist your body to lean in closer, wanting more of his kiss than was physically possible. As you try to sit up, your belly burns and you groan, reluctantly pulling away from him. You place a hand over your abdomen, your face screwing up with the pain you feel.
“Careful,” Tommy says with his kiss-tingled lips. He sets his hand over yours, resting on your belly with a reassuring warmth. His other hand holds the back of your neck securely, supporting you as best as he can.
He watches the physical pain turn into a deeper, more emotional one as your lips tremble. Your breath shudders as you inhale, shaking your head and huffing as the smallest squeak forces its way from your throat in your effort to stifle your sob.
“I want him back, Tommy.”
He rests his forehead against yours, holding you to him as he closes his eyes and nods. He turns his head and brings your face to the crook of his neck, where you bury yourself and cry into his shoulder. “Don’t you worry, love,” he says in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “Everything will be alright. I promise you.”
“Would you have wanted him?”
Your words startle him as he pulls away, still holding you as he strokes his thumb over your cheek and stares at your tear-stained face. The fact that you needed to ask that question hurt him. It pained him beyond imagination that you should be laying here in a hospital bed covered in cuts and bruises made by your own husband who was cruel and selfish enough to destroy your unborn child, a child that was never even his to hurt to begin with.
Tommy finally nods, holding you close and assuring you with everything that he had. “I wanted him,” he promises, speaking slowly. “I want him and you and us.”
You smile a trembling grin, breath shuddering as you put your head against his forehead again. “I love you, Tommy,” you confess, sighing so heavily with the emotion you couldn’t contain. “I loved you for years.”
He kisses you again, holding you close and keeping you closer. You sigh against his lips and continue to ache for him, as you have done for years.
“One day, soon enough,” he’s breathless as he speaks, “I will make you my wife. I will make you a mother. We’ll have a family, you and me. ‘Cause I love ya back.”
You smile, holding on tight. “You promise? ‘Cause I’ll shoot you if you’re kidding.”
He laughs lightly, kissing you quickly once more. “I promise. You and me.”
~
And, months later, his promise came true.
The time following the incident was hard. You felt sick for a while, physically and emotionally drained and overworked. But Tommy was there, and he helped you. There was not one point in time where he wasn’t pulling you back, easing you when you needed easing, boosting you up when you needed boosting. It was as you always dreamed it would be on quiet nights next to your late when you allowed yourself to think about that forbidden life with Tommy.
He helped you heal, and it was the only thing you could have ever asked of him. He made you happy.
And he still makes you happy as he carries you in his arms, kicking open the door to the dimly lit room, his lips already on yours as he pushes the door closed behind him with his foot. You separate from him with a smile so wide, your face feels like it will split in two.
You open your mouth to say something, laughing in the middle of it before he cuts you off by dropping you onto the plush bed. You bounce at the impact, laughing a little harder as you readjust to look up at him. “Careful, before you rip the dress!”
Tommy scoffs carelessly, “As great as you look in white, I could care less about whether or not you wear it, love.” His body leans over you, nearly crushing you with his weight as he kisses you again. You don’t mind, wrapping your legs around his waist as the dress rides up to rest around your hips.
His lips slide against yours, on the border of sloppy. He moves from them to trail fond kisses along your jawline, wasting no time in getting to your neck to pepper you in more kisses and litter you in his possessive markings. You hum, holding him to you with gentle sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. As he busies himself with your neck, you admire the gold reflection of the ring on your finger, shining in the light and reminding you that he is now just as much yours and you are his.
“Are you going to stare at that ring all night, or are you going to kiss me, woman?” He smiles at you, one hand in your hair to take it down, pin by pin.
“When you finish taking my hair down, I’ll kiss you again.”
He laughs and continues doing so. You watch him as he works, staring at his long lashes kissing his sharp cheekbones, his pale blue eyes blinking at you, his lips swollen with kisses. He finishes way faster than you thought he would, running his hands through your hair and then holding you by the back of your head.
“I believe you owe me a kiss now.”
You giggle, already leaning toward him. “You’re pathetic.” With your lips back on his, he devours you once again with his lust for your love. When his knee brushes between your legs, pressing against the warm valley of your thighs, you sigh into his mouth.
“Strip me, Tommy,” you tell him, undoing his tie at the same time. He complies, pulling you up to gain better access to the million buttons of your dress so he can take it off you. He slips it down your body, revealing more and more skin with each inch he sheds off you. You’re pulling clothes off him like they’re dangerous, stripping him down article by article until he’s just as bare as you are.
Pushing you back down onto the bed, you smile up at him as he grips your thighs and pushes them up your body, opening you up for him in the way that makes his cock hard and stiff with an unrivaled lust. “Look at that,” he grunts. “Always so perfect for me.”
You hum at his praise, your thighs quivering with anticipation. His hands stroke your skin, feeling every inch you have to offer as your eyes flutter shut and take the praise. The sensations are magnificent, like fire through your veins as you burn for him. He bends down, kissing and nipping at your collarbones and moving down, down, down as he passes your breasts, your belly, your perfect hips.
His mouth is warm against your pussy as the tip of his tongue darts out to taste your skin. When he pulls back, his hot breath blows against your aching folds and you squirm in response to him. Your legs fall onto his shoulders as he grips your sides, stroking his thumbs over your skin fondly. “What does my girl want, eh?” he asks, teasing you with his words as he shifts his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, not close enough to where you need him.
You’re already breathless as you gaze at him, in love with the sight of his head between your legs as you imprint it into your mind. “You,” you breathe, smiling for him.
“What about me?” He’s going to drive you mad before the end of the night. The way he continues to kiss your thighs, to hold your pleasure over your head all because he can, is enough to send you over the edge of sanity.
“Fuck, Tom, I want you to make me cum with your tongue,” you spill, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling. The gentle plea that escapes from your lips is so small and pathetic, he has no choice but to give into your desires. “Please.”
He smiles at you with dark eyes, “Since you asked so nicely.”
And then he’s all over you. Your mouth drops open and your eyes squeeze shut as he devours you, shoving his tongue deep into your pussy like you possess the sweetest of wines. He grunts into you when you pull on his hair again, a rougher tug than last time. He has to hold your hips down when you try to buck up to his face. You curse under your breath, moaning his name in the way that makes him weak.
His tongue plunges inside of your pussy and you melt, biting down on your lip so hard, you taste copper. “Fuck, Tom,” you gasp. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”
He’s drunk on the taste of you, and there was no way on this Earth that you would ever get him to stop. One of his hands leaves your waist to stroke your thigh before joining his tongue, shoving one thick finger into your hole and curling it as he massages it in and out of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he adds a second, his tongue flicking at your clit and driving you to the bitter end of your release.
Your curses multiply on your tongue, the occasional profanity turning into a string of the same word as he pulls you closer and closer to that explosive feeling gathering in the pit of your stomach.
It’s not long before it becomes too much to bear, and you clench around his fingers and tongue as he sucks on your clit like fucking candy. “Fuck, I’m so close,” you sigh, your voice high and pitchy with lust. “I’m gonna cum, Tommy. You’re gonna make me cum.”
Rather than respond, he groans deep in his throat and sucks harder on your clit, moving his fingers faster, even after his arm begins to hurt. Just teetering on the edge of your release, he licks a long, languid stripe up your cunt and commands you with black eyes. “Cum for me, love.”
A gasp fills your lungs to the fullest, and you’re a mess as you moan for him. He continues to pump his fingers into you, his tongue lapping you up as you continue to tremble, sucking in his fingers. Your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire. Tommy lets out a strangle breath when you tug on his hair again.
He eases you down from your high with his tongue. He pulls his fingers out of you, licking your wetness from each digit with special attention to each one. He ducks back down to lick up the rest of your arousal as well, making sure to collect every drop. He wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste…
His hands glide over your body as he leans up again, towering over you to kiss your swollen lips. “You’re fucking perfect,” he whispers against your lips. “My perfect fucking girl, my perfect wife.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling against his lips. “My perfect husband,” you fawn. You surprise him when you flip the both of you so he’s on his back. “My perfect,” you venture down his body, your lips grazing his skin as you stop at his hips, “fucking husband.” You set a kiss on his right hip and he just smiles down at you, sitting up so he’s leaned back against the headboard.
He watches you with keen eyes, grabbing his jacket from the floor and pulling his lighter and cigarette box. You take the lighter from him—as you always do, whether he’s watching or not—and light it after he’s set it between his lips. You lean against his knee the whole time, stroking a free hand up and down his thigh.
“Go on,” he motions as the smoke gathers in the air. “Go on and give me a show.”
You lick your lips, smiling mischievously as you shift farther down. You take his erect cock in your hand, watching his eyes flutter at the feeling of you. You stroke him gingerly with your fingertips, teasing him as he had teased you. Though he looks dazed, he doesn’t appreciate it as much as he tuts and shakes his head at you.
Your smile widens and he tilts his head in warning. You think for a moment about whether or not you’ll listen to him before deciding the throbbing between your legs will be satisfied quicker if you do. You wrap your fingers around his cock, stroking your thumb over the tip and leaning down to lick the little bead of precum before it spills over. He sighs at the feeling of your tongue.
You pull your hand away, licking from your palm to your fingertips before taking his cock again and pumping it in your hand in a steady rhythm up and down, from base to tip and back again. You hold his eye contact the whole time, adoring the heat of his gaze as you lay between his legs.
You shift his cock as you lean forward again, licking the underside of it with your hot tongue and paying special attention to the bulging vein there. You lavish your tongue over the sensitive spot, humming gently as you kiss his tip and coating his cock in your spit. Kissing his tip again, you let it part your lips as you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him and tasting the beads of arousal slowly dripping out.
You take him farther into your mouth, bobbing your head to allow him deeper and deeper with skilled movements. Tommy lays his head back, closing his eyes as he allows himself to give in to your pleasure. He reaches down with his free hand to cup the side of your neck, stroking your cheek until he resolves to tangling his fingers in your hair. He doesn’t pull or push or guide you in any way, just holds onto you as you work, grunting when the head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. He feels your throat constrict momentarily, a tiny gag making its way out of you that you quickly suppress to take the rest of him down.
“That’s a good girl,” Tommy sighs, opening his eyes to watch you bob your head up and down his shaft with an efficiency he’s proud to say he’s helped you gain. When you take him all the way down, lingering there for as long as you can with your nose pressed to his pelvis and the very tip of your tongue darting out to tease his heavy balls, his breath stutters in his throat.
You pull off for air after a moment, gasping as you blink away the tears that have gathered at the corner of your eyes. When you move to go back down on him, he just holds you by your hair to keep you up. “That’s quite enough, sweetheart.” You look at him with a slight pout, darting your tongue out to kitten lick the tip. He takes a moment to adore your sweet face before he’s pulling you up by your chin, leading you to his lips.
He pulls the cigarette from his lips to kiss you. You indulge in the kiss before pulling away to grab the cigarette, taking it between your lips and inhaling deeply. You lean in for another kiss, pushing the smoke into his parted mouth. The remaining smoke billows from your nose when you pull away, and you watch more seep from his precious lips as he stares at you.
He leans forward, his lips hovering over your as he speaks gently. “I’m going to fuck your brains out now.” You shudder at his promise, though he doesn’t give you much time to react as he grabs you by your hips and lifts you up onto his lap. “But first, I want to see you do some more work.”
You’re more than happy to do it, too, as you stroke his cock in your hand, hovering over his lap with trembling thighs and holding the cigarette between two fingers in your free hand. “Whatever you wish, sir,” you sigh, swearing his eyes get darker as soon as the word leaves your mouth.
He loses his patience as you line him up with your slick pussy, feeling the head of his cock part your warm lips. He decides to take matters into his own hands, grabbing your waist and pushing you down onto his cock, watching the way your head falls and your mouth drops open as you gasp a moan.
You grind your hips down on him, drunk on the feeling of his thick cock dragging along your walls, which clench around him and flutter when met with the pleasure you were expecting. You set the cigarette between your lips as you sit up to look at him again, hands on his shoulders to steady you as you savor the burn of his cock stretching you out.
“Fuck,” you curse around it, “feels so good.”
Tommy takes the cigarette from you, setting it back into his own mouth. “Go on, wife,” he bids you, placing his hands back on your waist and gripping tightly. “I want to hear you scream my name.”
And you are more than happy to oblige as you lift yourself slowly off his lap, dropping back down before he can slip out of you and grunting roughly at the pleasure that blooms there. “Mm, Tommy,” you moan, already gasping for breath as you do it again, and again, and again.
He blinks long and slow at the feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him. “Always so fucking tight for me,” he grunts, rutting into you once.
You ride his cock, swiveling and rocking your hips back and forth, needing to take him deeper and deeper inside of your tight pussy as you ache for him all over. Tommy watches you, groaning with you as your face squints in pleasure. Your tits bounce in his face with each movement of your hips, and eventually he just decides to set his cigarette aside to take your nipple between his lips.
His tongue massages it, sending shockwaves down your spine that has your moans turning to desperate cries. You drop your weight into his lap and grind down on his cock when his teeth graze it. Your moan breaks off into a broken whimper as you pull him closer, hugging him to your body and dropping your head into his shoulder.
That seems to be his breaking point as he grabs you and maneuvers the both of you onto your back. He pulls your legs up and over his shoulders, folding you in half when he leans forward to press his forehead against yours. He breathes hard as he stares at you, your eyes locked, though yours are hooded with pleasure. “You’re fucking mine,” he says, “and no one else can have you.”
You nod, trying to buck your hips to get him to move as he remains still inside of you, fully seated. He shakes his head at you, “No. I want to hear you say it.”
You whimper, holding him by his face. “I’m yours,” you promise. “Fuck, no one else can have me. No one, Tommy. Only you.”
He grins at your rambling, kissing your lips roughly, messily, before interrupting the union with the rough thrust of his hips. You gasp, breaking off into a moan as he does it again. He pace slowly builds until he rutting inside of you like a madman, possessive promises and declarations filling your ears as he watches you writhe in the pleasure he fucks into your body.
Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, spilling over the side and disappearing into your hair as he fucks into you. The pleasure is so great, it’s hard to keep in your moans. When you purse your lips in an attempt to, he shakes his head quickly. “No, don’t do that. I want to hear you scream for me. Tell me how much you love it. Look at me and tell me.”
The beginning of your words comes out as a sob as you force your eyes open to see him. The pleasure seizes your throat and makes it hard to form the words. “Fuck, so good, Tommy. Please don’t stop, please.” Tommy’s eyes flutter at your spilled words, and he thrusts into you harder, his hips snapping roughly.
“You like when I fuck you like this?” he asks, his voice dark and rough. “You like to feel my cock fuck you nice and deep?”
Your moans are just sobs at this point, the pleasure too great for you to keep it together anymore. “Yes, sir! Fuck, Thomas, yes. Don’t stop.”
Your eyes close from all the sensations mixing like a cocktail inside of you, but he’s not having it. “Open your eyes,” he commands, stroking your cheek. You obey him, though it takes a little longer than he would have liked. “Look at you, my beautiful girl. I’m gonna take care of you.”
You clench around him and he grunts, thrusting harder. “I’m gonna fucking take care of you,” he repeats, holding one of your hips down and angling you to thrust deeper. You gasp at the feeling, letting the pleasure spread. “I’m gonna fill you up and make you a fucking mother. You’re gonna have my child in that womb of yours. You’ll look good and round, full of my fucking baby. Do you want that?”
You nod quickly. Your legs are sore from this position and you’re losing feeling in your toes, but it’s nothing compared to the fire of lust consuming you in his flames. You let it devour you as you clench and whine on his cock, taking every single thrust he gives you. “Yes, sir, I want that. I want it so bad.”
He’s so close to spilling inside of you, fulfilling that dream the both of you had held for a long time now. He’s right there, ready to release it all inside of you. But he wants you to cum with him, he wants you to feel the pleasure of release together as he reaches between your bodies and begins circling your clit with deft fingers. “That’s a good girl,” he praises. “I’m gonna fill you up until it’s all leaking out.”
“I’m so close,” you sigh, your breath shuddering in your throat. “I’m gonna cum, Tommy.”
“Yeah?” You nod quickly, holding him tighter in a warm embrace. Tommy’s hips stutter as he nods, looking you dead in the eye as he speaks. “Cum for me, wife.”
And you do, with his name on your tongue and a shout on your lips, you cum loud and hard. Your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your back arching and your eyes rolling back as it hits you hard and fast. You gasp and feel your muscles tense with each shock of pleasure, holding him tighter as you scream Tommy’s name.
His hips jerk and he thrusts his cock rough and deep, emptying himself inside you. He paints your insides white, flooding every little crevice with his hot cum as he shoves it inside of you, ensuring none can escape. He grunts, a rough sound in his throat that kicks up with every twitch of his cock. He watches you the whole time, taking pleasure from your own and pressing you into the bed with his hips.
You both ride out your highs, exchanging nothing between the both of you but breaths and moans and whispers of the other’s name. By the time the aftershocks slow, you’ve already fallen limp against the sheets as you relish in the weight of him squishing you into the bed. Tommy doesn’t move for a while, staying like that for as long as he can to enjoy the sensations of your warm, wet cunt occasionally squeezing around him.
Tommy lets out a long, deep sigh as he sits up again. Your thighs ache as he moves them from his shoulders. You whimper when he slips out of you, placing a hand behind your back to help you sit up again. You sit in his lap, easing down with him as he leans back against the bed, his head resting on the pillows as yours rest on his chest.
You sigh deeply, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you inhale the scent of his cologne and sex in the air. “Fuck,” you breathe. Tommy chuckles lightly, holding you to him and stroking his fingers along your shoulder.
“If that doesn’t get you pregnant, I don’t know what will,” he says, reaching over to retrieve his half smoked cigarette from the ashtray on the nightstand.
Your fingertips trace patterns into his chest, following the outlines of black ink embedded in his skin. “Just in case, though,” you say, looking up at him with a small grin, “I think we should go again to make sure it really stuck.”
He grins back at you, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
Still, neither of you move as you enjoy the other’s still presence. You giggle lightly, a sound that comes out of nowhere as you continue to caress his chest. He glances down at you in question and you only laugh again. “I love you so much, Tom,” you smile.
He rolls his eyes, but in a playful way that follows his own gentle chuckle. “And I love you.”
You inhale deeply, leaning forward to press a kiss against the skin of his neck. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
He clears his throat, putting out his cigarette and sighing. “Well, it’s our honeymoon and I own this land, so we are going to stay here and kiss and fuck for as long as we wish.”
You smile wide, leaning forward slowly and speaking against his lips before bringing him into another kiss. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
You move on top of him again, straightening your back and steadying yourself on his chest. You lift your hips off of his, taking his cock and lining him up again with your soaked cunt. You feel his hands come to grip your hips as he continues to lie back and watch you. There’s an adoration in his eyes you wish you could just sit and watch forever as he stares at you.
“Good,” you smile, “‘cause I’m nowhere near done with you.”
You both groan as you sink back down on him.
Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr
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Modern!Tommy headcanons
(this could just be my thoughts splat onto a page but have fun! also no beta read we die like tommy's sexuality the moment he saw alfie solomons)
If that man could take his computer to bed with him, he would
He runs on cigarettes and coffee
I feel like he would totally have those machines that are super intricate about making coffee
Usually an apple loyalist but buys add-ons from others (think headphones, charging cables, other Bluetooth items)
Listens to The Neighborhood, Drake, Hozier, Eminem, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Kendrick Lamar, Bastille
Exclusively buys from Boss, started as a joke with his brothers but then he realized he really likes the suits he bought
Owns a bunch of clubs and knows about the best clubs to go to if you want a good time
Likes to eat expensive food but will never turn down Italian take out at horrible hours of the night
Absolutely owns a pair of those Bluetooth Raybans that play music discreetly
Favorite movies are the Tobey Maguire Spidermans, Star Wars (only the New Hope, Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, Revenge of the Sith, and Rise of Skywalker)
Has better figured out his own mental health and sexuality
this👏man👏is👏bisexual👏 (it radiates off him, takes one to know one)
since it is more widely accepted, he feels a little better about it
he absolutely had his first bi panic when he would banter with Freddie
that and EVERY interaction with Alfie
alfie bought him a tiny pride flag which he keeps in his desk, right next to his incredibly expensive alcohol
~x fem!Reader headcanons (m! in part 2)~
warnings: kinda unethical office workplace relationship?
its become a joke of sorts about being tommy's secretary around his family
this all stemmed from him taking an interest in you when you applied
you really were gorgeous to him
you're the only person he is slightly comfortable around besides the Blinders or his own family
the longer you work with him, the more comfortable he gets
after awhile, he (politely, our boy is respectful) asks you to call him Tommy instead of 'Mr. Shelby'
he is one of the most sought after men in the city which makes him very alluring to most
you don't super see it, he's always been very "normal" around, not the silver tongued devil most people knew him as
it wasn't that you didn't like him, you really did, his gorgeous frame, his perfect eyes, his slender fingers, his dark hair, everything was amazing except for the fact that he never really showed any interest in you, to him (you thought), you were his secretary, nothing more
oh how wrong you were
this all changes one late night, him still tirelessly working and you still there making sure that he doesn't stay there all night
it doesn't take much for him to just keep running on fumes so it usually falls upon you to remind him what god awful hour it is
you gently crack open the door and poke your head in
"Hey, Tommy, it's almost 1, pack it up and get some actual sleep."
He rolled his neck and closed his computer, just before packing everything up, he stops
"Cmon 'ere"
It was simple and you knew what could happen if something were to go down but you could find a new job if you had to
The Shelby building was quiet and the only office with any lights on was his
You leaned on the side of his desk and he opens the big drawer at the bottom
He procures the bottle of probably very expensive alcohol and starts pouring you one
"Why do you stay so late? Making sure I go home isn't in your contract."
You thought about it, it had become such a part of your daily cycle
"I guess I've just gotten used to it. Seemed like the right things to do after awhile."
He thanks you quietly and hands your glass of the whiskey he had poured
This was the softest you had ever seen him, you decided to capitalize off of it
"I've never understood it, why are you so comfortable with me Tommy?"
He nods slowly, knowing he would have to explain himself soon
"Polly says I don't 'ave my head straight yet, so my answer won't do you much good."
You, of course, weren't satisfied with that answer so you decided to play a hunch
By this hour of the night, his hair was rather disheveled so you tentatively ran your finger through it, fixing it for him
a small smirk bloomed on your lips when his expression seemed to soften more
This sort of tension was now a pattern for the two of you
The tension got to such a height that after awhile, late at night, he would just pull you into his lap and have his hand wrapped around your waist
You like to run your hands through his hair or trace his jaw with your fingertip
this is just how it is for the two of you and both of you like that <3
#thomas shelby#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#cillian murphy#tommy shelby imagine#peaky blinder imagine#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby fic#tommy shelby x you#modern tommy#modern peaky blinder#tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby fluff#arthur shelby x reader#john shelby x reader#alfie solomons#bisexual thomas shebly#alfie x tommy#tommy x alfie#arthur shelby#john shelby
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