#Dark Tommy Shelby x Black Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenoftheworldisdead · 2 months ago

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Legitimate

Chapter 1

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used. Let me know if i fucked up and not do that. Chat me up i don't bite! Thank you

Summary: Tommy’s thirst for power leads him overseas to the States, where he's after more than just business. What starts as a strategic move soon becomes something far more complex.

Warning: Adult content only! 18+ only please. Dark! There is potentially triggering stories ahead. Dark Slow Burn

Dark Tommy Shelby x Reader

🍸

You push through the heavy doors, hoping that just this once, you won’t be the first to arrive. Soft music plays in the lounge, where sleek pendant lights cast an amber glow, and the scent of leather mingles with a faint trace of old whiskey.

You scan the area, letting out a resigned sigh as you confirm it—you’re the first to arrive. It’s as though they’re all just waiting for your inevitable ‘Where are you?’ text before they even begin to leave home

A hostess steps forward, her professional smile firmly in place. "Good evening. Are you meeting someone?"

“Yes,” you say, glancing over her shoulder for any sign of your group-maybe missed them the first time. You give out your friend’s names and cross your fingers as she searches her digital notepad.

"Not yet. Would you like to wait at your table, or perhaps at the bar?"

“The bar, please,” you say, fighting off a frown. Better to blend in with the half-empty space than to sit alone in open view.

She gestures to the bar, where a few patrons are scattered in quiet solitude. You thank her and make your way over, settling into a seat at the far end, where the light is dimmer. The bartender doesn’t notice you—he’s glued to a muted game on the TV overhead—but you don’t mind. This quiet corner, with its polished brass rail and cushy stool, isn’t as bad as waiting in the section alone.

The group chat lights up with those same hollow assurances—they’re “just ten minutes away.” You scoff. Ten minutes will likely stretch to thirty, if not longer.

A low prickle crawls up your neck, subtle at first. You resist the urge to look up, grounding yourself in the glow of your phone. But the feeling sharpens, like the thickening air pressing against your skin.

Slyly, you keep your head low and peer out of the corner of your eye, catching a figure in the periphery—a shape standing tall, moving slowly, drawing closer.

The figure-a man slides onto the bar-stool beside you. You ignore him, fingers tightening around your phone, though his presence feels close, deliberate. He says nothing, just reaches into his pocket, pulls something, and taps it against his palm.

You hear a strikes a match before the sharp scent of sulfur mingles with the aroma of dark liquor. You catch the faint crackle as he takes a slow drag.

“Hey, you can’t smoke in here,” the bartender says, his voice breaking the low murmur of the lounge. But the man beside you seems to barely react, only exhaling another slow stream of smoke.

“Get the lady a drink,” he says, his accent curling through the words, smooth and deliberate, with a quiet authority that lingers in the air. Your brow rises, the urge to look over at him consuming you. He’s staring at you, talking about you, and you feel a weight settle in your chest, uncomfortable under his gaze.

He is handsome—handsome in a way that seems almost out of place, like a face too perfect for the room. His blue eyes cut through you, scanning you unabashedly, and you shift uncomfortably, trying to look anywhere but at him. His dark hair is neatly cut, and his square jaw sharpens his features as he takes another drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling in the air around him.

The bartender’s expression flickers, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammers, nodding quickly before turning to you, clearly unsettled. “What’ll it be, ma’am?”

"Uh… an espresso martini, please.” You’re not sure why you picked it, but the words slip out before you can reconsider. The man beside you takes another drag, his gaze unwavering, a faint smirk edging his lips. He must be someone important, you think—or perhaps the owner?

Your phone hums softly in your hand—a welcome distraction. You glance down, mouthing a faint thank you before turning away, though the weight of his gaze doesn’t fade. As you type a quick message to the group, his presence lingers beside you, casting a shadow you can’t quite ignore. Maybe next time you’ll just wait in the car.

🍸

Your small group barely fills the wide curve of leather seating, the empty glasses accumulating on side tables in quiet succession. As you anticipated, they were all late—blaming traffic and other excuses that didn’t quite hold up.

You lost count of the drinks hours ago, and it’s clear everyone’s at their limit. Claire’s unsteady laughter spills out as she grabs for another glass, and Sarah and Beth scramble to keep her from sliding out of her seat, the chaotic scene sparking a new wave of laughter.

It’s all familiar—like a half-forgotten memory from college, when time stretched thin and nights seemed to last forever.

Tonight had been planned for weeks, a celebration for Bethany. She’s getting married, and the sparkle on her finger is hard to miss, a cluster of diamonds catching the dim light like fragments of some distant star. She recounts his proposal with a shy smile, every detail met with wide eyes and laughter, hands reaching out to admire the ring. These gatherings have grown rare since she met him, but you don’t mind it. Everyone’s older now, a few with kids, married, while you’re content to stay in, alone.

The shift from crowded clubs to quieter lounges feels nostalgic, almost soothing—until you catch a glint of something just out of view. You can feel him there, the man from the bar, like a shadow lingering at the edge of your night. He’d paid for your drink earlier without a word, his gaze heavy, cigarette smoke trailing like a ghostly reminder of his presence.

Bethany’s laugh snaps you back, her voice lifting over the chatter. “You don’t have to get me anything from my registry—just a McMansion if you can manage it,” she teases, her grin mischievous.

You match it with a wink. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I heard you’re on a hot streak,” Sarah chimes in, raising her glass. She’s right—you have been. Four houses in six months, commissions that exceed your expectations.

“Oh man, I’ve been begging Andy to get into flipping houses,” Claire chimes in excitedly. “ But he threatened to block HGTV.”

"Well, if you’re aiming for divorce, I wouldn’t recommend it. House flipping is a pain—it causes so much stress in relationships."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and the atmosphere shifts instantly. You can feel the tension rise. They know how you got into the business—with your ex—and how that relationship ended.

"Not to say it can’t work, just that there’s a lot of money—and stress. Just look it up on Reddit." You scramble to recover, but it’s too late. You’ve definitely put your foot in your mouth again.

Bethany’s smile tightens, and the others exchange glances. The tension is clear, but before it fully settles, Bethany checks her phone. “Well, on that note, maybe we should call it a night?” she suggests, barely stifling a yawn. There are no objections.

You flag the waitress and ask for the check.

“It’s been taken care of,” she informs, to everyone’s surprise and delight. You have a feeling it’s him again—the one from the bar. He’d paid for your drink earlier, a gesture that should feel charming, yet instead it lodges like a thorn, unsettling.

You half expected him to make some move, some overture, but instead, he kept to himself, a silent presence that filled the air with the sharp sting of his cigarette smoke.

“Who?” Claire asks, her voice filled with curiosity. She twists around, scanning the area for the mysterious benefactor.

You watch the waitress fidget with the edge of her order pad, her gaze shifting from Claire to her manager and back.

“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know,” she replies meekly.

“Oh, boo!” Claire sighs, shrugging as she reaches for her nearly empty glass. She dismisses it with a quick laugh, while the rest of the group gathers their things, ready to head out. You glance back to where you last saw him, but he’s gone, leaving only a faint, sharp smell of smoke in his absence. A bit of relief fills your lungs—though the unsettled feeling lingers.

🍸

You wait for Claire to climb into her Lyft before you order your own. Your head is a little light, the faint warmth of the alcohol still swirling in your veins as you shift on your heels and order your Lyft. Though you were the first to arrive, you’re always the last to leave, making sure everyone gets into their rides safely.

Your nose picks up the scent of cigarette smoke again. You think it’s him—the strange man from the bar. Of course. Same old game—buy drinks, and suddenly he thinks he’s entitled to more. Irritation crawls up your spine, a familiar, almost automatic response. Well, you're not the naive college girl anymore. You don’t go home with guys just because they bought you a drink.

“Looks like you were making sure everyone got home safe,” he observes, his tone light, a hint of curiosity behind it. “That’s pretty thoughtful.”

“Did you and your friends have fun?” he asks, his accent soft but distinct. You blink, the world spinning just slightly, the edges softening with the alcohol still lingering.

“Yeah,” you reply curtly, a bit slurred as you strain to keep his gaze. It’s easier with the haze of alcohol. At the bar, his stare had been sharp, insistent—too much. Now, it’s different, quieter, but still heavy with something unspoken.

“Heading home?” he asks, stepping closer. He’s taller than you thought, his lean frame filling the sharp lines of his tailored suit, the sharp cut of the fabric emphasizing his broad shoulders and commanding posture.

“Mmm,” you nod, rocking back and forth on your heels, suddenly feeling a sharp edge to your own behavior. You don’t know why you’re being so dismissive. He bought you drinks, paid for the tab—but then again, you’re used to guys in places like this always wanting something more.

“So, you’re British?” you try and rest your mood, offering a soft smile. You should be nicer—he was kind to you. “Are you visiting?”

“Yes. I’ve been here a while, thinking about sticking around a bit longer.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” you say with a slight, nervous chuckle. “I’ve always wanted to see London. You know, see the queen, the big clock, have tea at tea time… but I’m not the biggest fan of flying.”

“London isn’t always easy on newcomers,” he says, his voice low and smooth. His eyes hold yours, and there’s a glimmer of something else—you’re just not sure what. “Sometimes, you need someone to show you the ropes. Maybe even… look out for you.”

And there it is. He wants something more, of course—he wasn’t just being nice. His smooth words, his calm demeanor, all part of some unspoken game. The unease tightens in your chest, like a warning bell growing louder with every passing second.

“Well, if you ever decide to move here permanently, I’d love to sell you a house.” You pull a business card from your purse, swaying slightly as you search, trying to steer away from whatever it is he might be hinting at.

You hold out the card, your legs wobbling slightly. He looks down at it, a hint of a scoff escaping him before dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. His gaze sharpens, making your skin prickle.

"I wasn’t angling for your number," he says smoothly, tossing his cigarette down and crushing it beneath his shoe.

Did you misread him? He’s just some foreign guy trying to be nice. You’re bad at assumptions on a good day, and with the booze kicking in, you probably look like an ass.

"But I’ll keep you in mind when I’m ready to settle down," he adds, taking the card. You can't tell if it's out of pity or politeness. Either way, you feel bad.

"Right…" Your voice falters, a hint of embarrassment creeping in.

A car horn breaks the brief silence, impatient and sharp. He glances at the idling car, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I think that might be for you, love.”

Thank goodness. The relief presses down on you, stifling the embarrassment that rises like smoke, suffocating your chest. You nod, offering a quiet goodnight, hoping he doesn’t see the flush spreading through your veins. The sound of your footsteps feels too loud, each one echoing the unease twisting in your gut. You wonder if it will follow you—this feeling, like a shadow—until you're far enough to breathe again.

#Dark Tommy Shelby x Reader #dark tommy shelby #Dark Tommy Shelby x Black Reader #Dark Tomy Shelby x WOC

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brummiereader · 1 year ago

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😱 I am speechless! Well technically I'm not because I'm about to write an essay! This was SO Dark! My eyes were glued to my phone throughout, I think I may have even forgotten to breathe at some point 😯. I think this deserves two skulls for its darkness rating, holy crap I FREAKING LOVED this ❤️😈. I bow to you queen of darkness, please teach me your ways 🙏!

From the warnings alone and summary I knew I was in for a treat but I had no idea it would be this intense of a story. “Enough, Daisy!” After finishing the story I came back to this part because I suddenly realised that Tommy's sharp response to Daisy was because she had asked him about Y/N joining their nightly "adventures" instead of Alice. Which now makes so much sense with what Tommy said at the end that they need to stop their mutual hobby.

Holy crap...the office scene with Alice, Daisy and Tommy was wild 😳! The scariest part is Daisy's cool and calculated demeanour and it's contrast with Tommy's brutal and aggressive behaviour. They balance each other out into a formidable, frightening couple. I'm afraid it's out with the old in with the new Y/N...Mrs Shelby has her eyes locked on you 😈.

"Jammy git!” had to give this line a quick mention. This is so British, my mum says it all the time 😂!

What's so scary is Alice is completely under their spell, she even said herself how she would do anything for them even though it scares her. It makes me wonder if she caught on to the pattern of maids leaving for America like Elsa 🤔. I don't know why but I feel it's Daisy these young maids get enchanted by not Tommy, and it's Daisy they would do anything for.

Elsa has figured all of this shit out, bet she's thankful they never picked her now 😳! I bloody knew those wooden trunks were not used for their belongings! I had a feeling they would be used for their bodies instead, a detail I thought was really cleverly mentioned throughout!

The next scene was just WOW, holy shit that was dark! I was on the edge of my seat throughout 😱. "Do you think you can cum before he kills you?”....arghh this was crazy, brilliantly crazy! I literally gasped when I read that part, Daisy is so devilishly menacing, she's like no other character I have ever read! Taunting her with her own fate, wow...out of the two of them I reckon she's the darkest. BUT a big BUT....you then had Tommy cum as Daisy cut her throat and blood poured down on him. Murder kink unlocked for him, holy hell 😈! This was giving me "Gone Girl" vibes with a twist! “Goodnight, sweet darling.” this made me shudder, ruthlessly enchanting until the end. Having them have sex in her blood was something out of a horror movie, these two are insane but perfect for eachother! Maybe that's why his family didn't like her because she will only enable his sadistic needs!

Wow Lee! I think you maxed out your dark powers writing with this one 😍👌! As a fan of dark stories you couldn't have given me a better read that this, absolutely incredible! Well bloody done ❤️🔥! This is now up there with my fav dark reads 😈.

Careless People

Summary: Newlyweds Tom and Daisy Shelby are hiding a dark secret. They're known for being eccentric and a bit kinky, but could something more sinister be lurking beneath the surface?

Author's Note: Requested by @cillmequick for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. You asked what Tommy thought of everyone's speculation about his bride, but what if he’s aware of her sordid past and willing to indulge her? In this one, he and his wife are the ones driving others out of Arrow House!

Warnings: 🔞 smut, dub-con, blood, mention of weapons, murder. Dark fic proceed with caution 💀

Fear gnawed at your insides as you stood ready to serve your new employers, a pair of newlyweds just back from their honeymoon in Paris. The dashing Mr. and Mrs. Shelby sat before you at the dinner table speaking in hushed voices, brows knit in serious conversation. Their conspiratorial tone and occasional glances in your direction unnerved you to the point of paranoia.

“What’s she saying? Am I dismissed already?” you whispered to one of the other servants waiting table.

The girl only shook her head quickly, lips pursed together tightly and eyes cast toward the floorboards anticipating an incoming storm.

As if on cue, Mr. Shelby’s temper suddenly flared and he grasped his wife’s forearm hard enough to cause her to whimper in pain. “Enough, Daisy!” he barked into the silence of the room and you looked away feeling sorry for the young woman.

The other servants had warned you he could be temperamental, but you hadn’t expected him to be violent as well. Pushing away from the table, he stalked to the other side of the room for more whisky as Mrs. Shelby rubbed at her aching wrist.

She muttered a low complaint into her napkin that sounded something like, “You’re a brute.”

Their new marriage still seemed to be finding solid footing now that the honeymoon was over and the demands of life were creeping in around them. It was rumored that the Shelby family did not approve of Mr. Shelby’s American bride, though you couldn’t imagine why. Thus far she was a fair and honest employer, you’d even heard of an initiative she began which stated one deserving employee would be chosen each season to make their way to America, all expenses paid by the Shelby family. She said she wanted hard workers to have the opportunity to seek their fortune abroad.

You found yourself drifting away from the unpleasantness and into this enticing daydream as Mr. Shelby cleared his throat to speak. “Elsa, show Y/n to my office after dinner,” he commanded. You swallowed harshly wondering if this might indeed be your last night at Arrow House, but then something took you by surprise. Mrs. Shelby looked at you directly, a smile darting across her lips and a gleam in her dark, amber eyes. There was something in her charm that captivated you, pulling a smile from you before you realized. Your heart began beating wildly at the thought of winning her favor and you could think of nothing else while clearing the dinner plates.

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

“Down and to the left,” Elsa said before leaving you alone in the corridor. The haunting strains of a gramophone could be heard in the distance and you paced toward it, still uncertain what awaited you. Just as you reached the partially opened door, a harsh sound of a slap stopped you. Your ears strained for more over the music and soon a few raspy breaths could be heard through sobs. With curiosity piqued, your hand rested over the doorknob and you peered inside to see the upstairs’ maid, Alice, kneeling before Mr. Shelby.

The only light in the room came from a roaring fire. The orange flames cast flickering shadows upon the couple before you making it hard to see everything happening. However, you had an idea as you watched Mr. Shelby’s large hand grasp the back of Alice’s head and push her down between his legs harshly until she began to sputter. Her small hands clawed at his trousers as he sipped his whisky, the light playing across his face in an ever-changing, yet sinister mask.

“Choke for me, darling,” he rasped before groaning in pleasure on a harsh gag. He gave her a moment to rest, stroking her hair gently before resuming his thrusts, dragging her along his length in frenzy until he eventually stilled. His hands tensed with her locks caught tightly in his fist, eyes rolling back in his head as a string of curses fell from his lips. Then removing his hand slowly, Alice pulled away, tears streaming down her cheeks in dark rivulets from her ruined mascara.

Still breathing heavily, Tommy leaned down to her, taking her dripping chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Open,” he commanded and she obeyed wide eyed, holding something rich and pearlescent in her mouth that caught the light. He ran his thumb along her lower lip with a nod of satisfaction, spitting into her open mouth. “Swallow like a good girl,” he said with the raise of an eyebrow and she did so as she looked up at him, a dazed look on her face.

Your breath caught as you realized you’d witnessed something you shouldn’t have. Before you had time to consider the damage to Mrs. Shelby, you watched her elegant form emerge from the darkness. You clasped a hand over your mouth as you saw her help Alice stand on wobbly legs and capture the girl’s face between gloved hands before savoring her in a languid, open mouthed kiss.

Feeling as though you’d already seen too much, you turned to leave, but the creak of the old wooden door gave you away. You should have run in that moment, but for some reason you froze, entranced by what you’d just seen.

“Miss Y/l/n, come in,” Mrs. Shelby said warmly, extending a hand to you from where she stood. She smiled so brightly it was as though you were the only person in the room and you felt a sudden giddy nervousness take hold of you. Mr. Shelby straightened his appearance and gave a quick nod to signal it was his wish for you to enter, but you stood firm until Alice made a hasty retreat. She didn’t look at you as she passed, cheeks flushed a bright red even in the dim lighting.

“Sit down, Y/n. We have a proposition for you,” Mr. Shelby began, taking a seat behind his desk and producing a formal looking document.

“We do hope you’ll accept,” Mrs. Shelby added breathlessly as she guided you to sit beside her on the sofa.

—————————

“Are you sacked?” Elsa asked the next morning as you helped prepare Mrs. Shelby’s breakfast tray.

“No!” you said indignantly. “Would I still be making tea right now if I was?” you joked.

“Well? What did Mr. Shelby say?” she prodded.

You bit your lip. It was part of your signed contract not to disclose the nature of your exact arrangement with the Shelbys. However, the best part was so exciting you couldn’t possibly keep it to yourself. “They’re going to send me to America!” you said enthusiastically. “But I had to sign a contract for a…special program first.”

"Jammy git!” Elsa exclaimed. “Alice has been here three years so I knew she’d get picked, but look at you! You’ve only just arrived and already made an impression,” she mused.

“I know!” you thrilled, wanting to squeal with delight as you hoisted the breakfast tray up, but you were secretly worried about the months that lay ahead. Could you do what they had asked?

——————————-

One month later Alice was set to depart. You helped pack her things and she gave you all the advice she had for serving the Shelbys. However, something in her voice was off as you tied her apron for one last dinner service. “You feeling alright?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she confided, looking around her empty room with a desperate melancholy. “Working for the Shelbys is like being consumed by fire,” she confided, swallowing harshly, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “But I like it. It scares me how much of myself I’d give them if they asked,” she exhaled on a shaky breath. She seemed afraid, but you weren’t sure precisely why.

The bell rang in the hall calling for everyone in the dining room. “I’m sure you’re just exhausted from all the preparations. You’ve been working long days, but soon you’ll be rewarded,” you said in an attempt to cheer her. “Just as I hope I’ll be rewarded one day,” you said gleefully.

Alice’s face fell as she looked upon you and you noticed how gaunt she’d become. You didn’t pay much attention at first as hard work did that to people. Your own parents had worked themselves to death with little to show for it, but you were determined to build something greater for yourself and you wanted to remind Alice of her own bright future.

Giving her a reassuring smile, you reached for her hand in solidarity, but she twisted away from you. It was then you noticed what looked to be rope burns on her wrist, red and irritated under the cuffs of her blouse. She yanked the sleeve of her uniform down further as you blinked, certain you were seeing things. “I’ll see you downstairs,” you mumbled as you backed away feeling disconcerted.

—————————

Thankfully dinner was uneventful and you soon forgot Alice. Mr. and Mrs. Shelby were in good spirits as they ate their lamb chops, chatting idly about a new business acquisition in Boston which would require his sister Ada to go abroad soon. Mrs. Shelby remarked about the shopping in the area and Mr. Shelby feigned a passing interest. However, one item caught your attention and that was a brief exchange about the upcoming stag hunt with his brothers. “Are you leaving in the morning, Tom?” Daisy asked offhandedly.

“No, we’ll have to wait for John. He arrives Saturday,” Mr. Shelby replied. Then he instructed the butler to have his guns cleaned.

After you’d finished your duties for the evening, you retired to your room, settling beneath the old tattered quilt you’d brought with you upon your arrival. Sleep came within minutes, a strange, but not unwelcome dream of Mrs. Shelby came to you, her face hovering over yours as her large brown eyes softened to the texture of velvet so soft you thought you could stroke it with your fingertips. Her dazzling smile beckoned you to reach for her and hold her in your arms before she leaned down to leave a love bite on your neck.

Soon after midnight, when the house was still and quiet, a sudden sharp sound broke your revery. You couldn’t be sure in your hazy state of mind, but you could have sworn you’d heard a gunshot. Shaking your head in disbelief, you burrowed beneath the covers trying to dissuade yourself of the notion.

However, in the morning everything felt upside down as the house was in a whirlwind of activity. Men stomped through the house and Frances bustled behind them, but no one else was allowed upstairs. When you inquired about your regular duties, you were assigned elsewhere with the explanation that Mr. Shelby was on his hunt and Mrs. Shelby was out shopping.

“That’s odd,” you commented as you began washing the floors with Elsa. You were certain Mr. Shelby said his hunt had been delayed, but it was none of your business so you continued working until Elsa scurried over to you.

“Y/n, Alice is missing,” she whispered urgently.

“Perhaps she left early,” you reasoned, but Elsa shook her head violently in disagreement. “Do you reckon she took another boat?” you asked in confusion.

“I don’t think so. She wasn’t meant to sail for two days and I saw someone take her trunk away before first light,” she said, twisting her fingers in her apron nervously. Glancing down the hall she made sure no one was coming before she added. “They’ve done something with her, I know it.”

“That’s not possible. Mr. and Mrs. Shelby have been nothing but kind and helpful,” you noted, wanting to believe all the lovely things you’d heard about the Shelbys. “I’m sure she’s on a boat. Let’s wait for her letter. She did promise to write,” you reminded Elsa. Although she agreed waiting was best, she didn’t seem to believe you, her brow etched with worry.

In a month, you were vindicated when a letter arrived from Boston. It was type written which seemed odd considering you’d never seen Alice use a type writer. However, it was signed by her and talked of nothing but happiness in her new home. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief that her sudden departure from Arrow House was nothing more than eagerness to begin her journey and she was quickly forgotten as work overtook everyone.

You were no different, learning what your new role would be. Aside from Frances, you had quickly become the second most important person in the household. If you were honest, the power of being held in such high regard by your employers was thrilling, but also burdensome when it came to dealing with other members of staff. The jealousy in Elsa’s eyes was unmistakable as she found it particularly difficult to hide her envy.

One day she confronted you about it, as you assumed she might, but you were not prepared for her venomous words. “You're so special all of a sudden?” Elsa seethed, pulling you from the corridor by your elbow.

“I-I'm not. I’m just another servant,” you demurred, feeling hurt and shocked by her outburst.

“Like hell. I know what you do with Mr. and Mrs. Shelby when you’re alone,” she revealed.

“I’m not sure what you think you know…” you began, but Elsa cut you off.

“You’re their whore. You let them use you in the most vile ways,” she accused, face contorted in an expression of utter disgust.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said indignantly.

“Think you’re so clever? We can all hear you,” she informed you. “They’re careless people, Y/n. Careless and cruel,” she said bitterly.

You sucked in a breath. “That’s not true,” you defended the couple you’d grown attached to. Wanting to know if others felt the same, you ventured, “Does everyone think that?”

“That’s not what you should be asking. You should be worried for your safety, Y/n. Ask why they wanted your signature or why they bought you that trunk to ship your belongings months before you leave. Have you thought about that?” she urged you, eyes boring into you insistently.

“What? What are you saying, Elsa?” you wondered aloud.

“The stable boy found Alice’s belongings in the barn last week and I've seen copies of her letter in Mr. Shelby's office. It’s what I thought all along, the Shelbys forged that letter from America. And that trunk? I think her body was in it. Alice is dead and they killed her!” she cried in desperation.

Your blood began to boil as you realized the lies Elsa was concocting. She was obviously upset she’d been passed over. However, you weren’t to blame. The Shelbys chose you for the opportunity in America. She would have to accept that she might never be the chosen one.

Seeing her sunken eyes and shaking hands you took pity on her. She’d obviously spent many a night thinking of her wasted potential. You decided it best to play along and tell her the ghosts she saw were real.

“Alright, Elsa, I’ll be careful. Thank you for telling me,” you placated her with a pat to her shoulder. She only sniffed at you in reply and you walked away with a toss of your head.

————————-

Three months later it was your final night in the Shelby household and you felt a calm acceptance of whatever was to come. Your time spent with them had strung together in an endless night, leaving you physically and emotionally drained. They were the most insatiable couple you’d ever met, constantly pushing you beyond the boundaries of your own understanding. Their “adventures” as they liked to call them left your body marked in all manner of bites, burns and bruises, but you wore them proudly. You had a need to please them and in doing so you felt yourself becoming a different person. In truth, you would have given them anything or done whatever they asked for a single word of praise.

When you arrived in their bedroom that warm July evening, wrapped in your silk robe from Daisy, you had no thoughts of denying them any last wish. Therefore, when Tommy began his aggressive lovemaking you succumbed to him, knowing Daisy would soothe the pain with tender kisses. You allowed Tommy's calloused hand to wrap around your throat possessively as you rode him, his thick fingers digging into your flesh and restricting your air until a lightheadedness washed over you.

The fuzzier your head became, the heavier your body, movements sloppy and uncoordinated. As you struggled to stay upright, Daisy took hold of the ties binding your hands behind your back to guide you. Then her skillful fingers dropped to your pulsing clit, rolling and pinching until the coil in your belly pulled tight. Noticing the overwhelming need in your eyes she whispered sweetly in your ear, “Do you think you can cum before he kills you?”

Your eyes snapped open in panic, body thrashing as Daisy’s girlish laugh filled the air. You tried to shake your hands free, but Daisy held you tightly as Tommy planted his feet against the bed and thrust into you with animalistic drive. When your fight had gone and the darkness descended upon the edges of your vision, you gave into the rushing in your ears like a lullaby, a single tear rolling down your cheek in surrender.

Then without warning, Daisy called out. “Tom, you brute, you’re scaring our pet!” His paced slowed and his hand uncoiled, leaving you to draw lungfuls of air that brought you back to life with a rush of overwhelming emotion. As Daisy hushed you, she began to lick your tears away, sucking at your delicate neck until a dark bruise formed. Your head dropped to her breasts with Tommy’s cock pulsing inside you and you trembled in relief.

“So good for us, darling,” Daisy praised you. “Would you like a treat?” she asked, holding your chin up and kissing your cheek gently. "You want to be allowed to cum now?" You could barely respond as your mind tried to process the notion that they were pleased with you, but Tommy’s hand connected with your ass in a stinging slap, bringing you out of yourself suddenly.

“Answer,” his deep voice urged and you nodded into her hand. “Good. Remember your manners,” he said, taking hold of your hip in a painfully tight grasp.

“Please, can I cum, sir?” you exhaled on a ragged breath, full of desire.

Tommy chuckled at your use of the term of authority he loved so much. He looked to Daisy and she nodded. Your eyes slipped closed momentarily as he resumed his thrusts, hitting the spot inside you that made your toes curl and said, “Cum all over my cock, like a good girl, but let us hear you.” You moaned for them as you willed your spent body to move, chasing the high you’d become addicted to over the past weeks and wanting to satisfy Tommy as well.

Daisy nibbled your earlobe as the waves of pleasure carried you, her intoxicating giggle echoing in your ear, distracting you from a swift movement at her side. You never felt the slice of the blade across your throat, only vaguely aware of warmth leaving your body as you looked down at Tommy in horror. Silenced by your injury, you could only watch as dark crimson sprayed across his toned chest.

Tommy came inside you with a satisfied shudder, your face crumbling in exquisite agony above him. As the light faded from your eyes, Daisy placed a kiss to your mouth one last time saying, “Goodnight, sweet darling.”

She helped Tommy lay you down as she sighed contentedly, then Tommy reached for his wife with a stern warning. “We have to stop this, Daisy,” he said, thinking of the calls he would have to make to Johnny Dogs and the men soon.

“I don’t want to,” she pouted. “I was smart this time, I used a blade so no one would hear,” she said proudly.

“Yeah…you fucking did,” he said with a proud smirk and pulled her in for a kiss that lead to a long, slow fuck in your blood. Frances would clean up in the morning when the body would be loaded into the trunk they’d purchased for your departure.

Your letter would arrive from America in a month’s time, the signature lifted from the contract you’d signed months earlier. It was all too convincing on the letter Daisy typed. No one would ever question it, especially not Liesel, their new toy who would join them tomorrow night for her introduction to the Shelby household.

She was already upstairs in the servants’ quarters placing her things in the trunk the Shelbys provided and thanking God for her good fortune. She'd met Elsa, of course, but not believed a word of the poor woman's ramblings about missing women and murders in the house.

“Careless and cruel” Elsa called her employers, but Liesel couldn’t understand why she would say such a thing. Careless people didn't take such good care of their employees, did they?

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

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vervainandspritz · 2 months ago

Text

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: thanks for reading guys

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Y/N was never a light sleeper, but this particular time waking up felt way more difficult than usual. Her head was hurting from all the crying and the last thing she could remember was Tommy holding her against his chest and the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with his own unique scent before she nodded off, unable to handle the recent events.

“Mrs. Shelby, you're awake” One of the maids spoke up with a gentle smile, putting a steaming tea on the nightstand by her side.

Sitting up, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“I'm not a Shelby” She responded with more annoyance than she'd like.

“Oh” The older woman said with a hint of shame. “My apologies. Mr. Shelby asked to bring you tea and some pain relief tonic,”

Y/N nodded, thanking her quietly before she rose from the bed, looking around. The room looked familiar in a less than pleasurable way, just like the clothes she was wearing. Sighing deeply she walked out of the room, seeing the dark corridor of the places she once called home.

After getting refreshed and dressed, Y/N walked toward the grand staircase. She stopped cold, feeling goosebumps running through her spine in the worst possible way when she saw the monumental portrait of Thomas and her in the stairwell. One she used to see everyday. The eyes on the portrait looked as lively as ever, mocking the pain she held in her chest every time she saw it. There she was, the former lady of the house, laying claim to her domain even from the grave. The longer she stared at her, the more she felt Grace was taunting her. “You may have been his woman once, but I have his heart and his ring on my finger now.” The words rang in her ears, coming from the depths of her memory, loud as the day she heard them for the first time. Y/N couldn't seem to be able to tear her gaze away, silently battling the ghost that seemed to curse her relationship forever.

She stood there for a long moment, immersed in the painting so much that she didn't realise she was being watched.

Thomas stood in the doorway on the other side of the corridor, watching her silently losing the battle as shame gnawed on his insides. He should have thrown it away long ago, but it was the last thing on his mind as he desperately looked for Y/N everywhere. The dead woman on his wall wasn't a big concern.

“You're awake” He spoke up, unable to handle the silence anymore.

She turned around, almost startled, as he caught her staring at her. The first thing she noticed were the glasses on his nose, and she fought against the little smirk that tried to appear on her lips so badly.

“What am I doing here? Where are the boys?” She asked, straight to the point. Thomas shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, knowing she wouldn't be happy with the news.

“Boys are with Frances upstairs, playing.” He responded, looking her in the eyes. “You're not safe outside of Arrow house. You three need to stay here until the vendetta is over.”

“What if you had more men surrounding my flat instead?” Y/N bargained.

“It’s too dangerous and I need my men concentrated not spread out over cities” he replied, already prepared for the questions he knew she'd ask.

She wanted to argue so badly. Y/N wanted to be free from him and the reminders of the past that this house held. But she knew that receiving a black hand was a serious threat she didn’t have the capacity to handle by herself.

“The only reason I'm not leaving right now is because I need to keep them safe.” She said, stepping closer. “...and if anything happens to us, I want you to know that it's all your fault.”

Despite knowing and seeing the pure hatred in her eyes, Thomas could never fully brace himself for the impact of her words.

“Nothing will happen to any of you. I give you my word” He said, quieter this time.

“Your word means nothing to me, Thomas. Just… just stay away from us as much as possible.” Y/N added, wanting to walk away.

“You can't expect me to stay away. They.. are my kids. My sons.” He said suddenly, and the confidence and fierceness of his voice made her stop in her tracks. “I regret losing you every single day. Every day I grieved the loss of my bloody heart, and then I found out there's three I should have been grieving. But you're here, and so are they. So I won't let yo–them go.” He hissed out, almost frantically and the vulnerability in his eyes made her slightly tremble. It hurt even more, because she waited so long to hear.. anything. Any crumb of reassurance would be enough to keep her here, but he didn't say a fucking word.

Straightening her back, Y/N inhaled a deep breath, looking back at the bloody portrait who was witnessing the whole scene. Seconds later she looked at him again, and the fire in his eyes was more lively, outweighing the dead, judgemental stare.

“They won't call you their father. If you break this rule, you won't see us again.”

***

The next day Y/N woke up, bracing herself for another battle as she walked down the stairs and to her surprise, the portrait was… gone. Her heart thumped wildly at the realisation and she couldn't believe her eyes. Suddenly the tension in the house seemed to have lessened.

Walking to the kitchen, she noticed Thomas sitting by the table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette in his hand, as he read the newspaper. It felt weirdly domesticated and the thought alone made her smirk.

“Did the boys eat?” She asked, not sure what to expect.

“Frances fed them an hour ago. Tommy is napping in the living room, and Nick is picking daisies with Mary in the garden.” He responded in a calm tone, not tearing his gaze away from the newspaper.

Silence hung in the air as they each did their own thing

Finishing up her breakfast, Y/N cleared her throat again as she looked at the wall in front of her.

“The portrait is gone” She pointed out in an emotionless voice, not looking at him. A couple longer moments passed before she heard him exhale a cloud of smoke.

“What portrait? He responded, and Y/N’s lips stretched into a subtle smile before she grabbed her plate and walked away.

A couple days later Y/N still avoided him, occasionally getting to talk to John or Arthur, but both of them were distracted by the giant threat hanging over the family. Polly seemed to keep it together the best, coming over whenever she felt like it for some female company.

Y/N said her goodbyes to Polly, going to put the cups into the sink and cleaning the mess after Nick. She wasn't used to having maids doing everything for her, so it was more comfortable to just clean the mess herself. Nick himself was currently spending time with his uncles by the stables, and Tommy was… who knows where.

After cleaning, Y/N went looking for the other boy, asking Frances who just directed her to the little room where the toys were stored.

She expected everything, but not the view she saw arriving in the doorway. Little Tommy sat back on his legs, watching with wide eyes and furiously colouring the different shapes Thomas drew for him.

“Dat?” Tommy asked suspiciously, pointing towards the crooked flower on the paper and glancing at him with big eyes.

“This?” He asked with a grin, “that's a flower” he explained, to which the boy nodded, narrowing his eyes lightly.

“...and dat?!” He asked suddenly in a squeaky tone, seeing the car Thomas drew for him.

“That's a car. Almost” He chuckled, seeing the crooked shapes as he tried his very best.

Tommy nodded, grinning in the same way as his father before glancing at his mum.

“Hi!” He waved, before pointing to the flower again. “fwowa!” he said proudly, pushing his little chest forward.

Thomas just laughed quietly, putting the pencil down.

“Good job, little man” he said, before slowly rising from the floor with a groan.

“Oh God, I'm too old for this” He whispered with a chuckle, glancing at Y/N who wasn't able to suppress the smile on her face after she heard Tommy talk. “Don't smile like that, now it's your turn.” Thomas added, passing by her in the doorway, his shoulder brushing against hers.

***

The next couple weeks were… rougher. Changretta was relentless in his search, which turned into a couple of seriously dangerous situations where John got shot in the chest barely coming out alive. Polly didn't agree with a lot of Thomas' actions, despite his inability to back off right now. He stood his ground, no matter how difficult it was sometimes to keep Y/N inside Arrow house whenever worse moments would arrive. And they did, fairly frequently.

The pull he felt became stronger and stronger, no matter how many daggers she kept throwing. Spewing the words she held deep inside, reminding him of the monster he used to be… or maybe still was? He couldn't tell. The view in the reflection of his mirror was so blurry, that it didn't matter. As long as she saw him to be fit enough to be around boys.

The house was completely quiet as he made his way through the corridor, lacking the usual sounds of kids playing or Y/N walking from one room to the other. Walking past the library, he caught a glimpse of light coming from the room that made him stop in his tracks.

His hands trembled with anxiety. The fear settled in his ribs over three years ago and hasn't left him once, even though they were here.

Thomas was aware of how powerless he was once the vendetta was over. The thought of them leaving the house and never coming back was making his heart squeeze painfully, reminding him of the privilege he once had, but gave it up willingly. The fear was like a loop, tightening around his throat with each passing day as he grew comfortable coming home and seeing them here.

Walking into the library, Thomas was completely quiet, wanting nothing but to see her if it was all he could count on. He was completely unaware of the fact that she always felt his presence. Sometimes letting him stay, and other times making him leave so desperately that made him wonder whether it was possible to day from a broken heart.

Step after step he tried to control his shallow breathing as he finally saw her. Standing by the big shelf, he traced over the backs of books standing there for so long, it felt like they were always there.

“You wouldn't like that one” He spoke up quietly, noticing how she didn't even budge hearing his voice. It took a longer moment before she replied.

“How so?” Her voice was calm, light-hearted as she found herself lost in the countless stories filling up the wooden shelves. The nagging thoughts in his mind disappeared the second he heard her voice.

“Because you don't like uncertainty. It's filled with unanswered questions and has an open ending.” He thought for a moment before replying, well aware of the content of this book, because he read them all. In the moments of despair, trying to hold onto every scrap of feelings in the house so empty, it felt like nobody lived inside.

Sighing deeply, Y/N put the book back in its place, grabbing another one.

“Nobody likes uncertainty, Thomas. Holding onto the moment, unsure of what's to come.” She sighed, hearing his slow footsteps approaching. “A book is just a book. You can close it, and move onto another one anytime. If only life was just as easy.”

Silence in the room caused the whole scenery to become more intimate, unexpectedly even for him. Stopping mere inches behind her, he watched the back of her head for a moment, remembering the nightmares he had every night. Ones where he couldn't reach her, no matter how he tried.

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly raised his hand, moving it closer and closer towards her shoulder. Inches away, he noticed the goosebumps covering her skin. Without looking he reached out to the shelf, grasping onto the book he knew by heart, while his arm brushed against her own.

He stood close, too close, and Y/N knew it too well, yet she couldn't bring herself to make him leave or pull away. The way he trembled as his chest pressed lightly against her back made her stand still.

“You'd love this one” He whispered, not feeling brave enough to speak loudly. The uncertainty they talked about he knew better than anything else.

Her breathing became heavier, feeling him so close, the tingling on her skin she hadn't felt for so long almost made her flinch. Slowly, she turned around facing him.

This, Thomas didn't expect as she suddenly looked up, their eyes meeting in a gaze long forgotten, yet still alive and lively as when they looked for the first time.

“I don't read anymore” She confessed quietly, and his eyes couldn't help but watch her lips intently. The way they wrapped around the words she spoke.

The urge to grab and hold her closer was strong, almost too strong. Tommy tilted his head to the side, getting a better look at her face in the dim light.

“I can read it to you” He offered quietly, as it was the closest she allowed him to… just be near her.

So he waited, scared of ruining the moment as she moved closer. Their noses brushing against each other.

“I wanted you to speak, not read.” The sound of her voice was like the most beautiful music he ever got to listen to, even though the words were far from it. “...but now it's too late, and you're standing too close.” her breath touched his lips, taunting.

…and then she pulled away, leaving him standing there. Slowly making her way out of the library.

“You're cruel” He said, loud enough for Y/N to hear.

***

Y/N opened her eyes suddenly, sitting up as she took a deep breath, desperately trying to blink away the nightmare she had. The clock showed three AM in the morning, and her heart was pounding from the fear she felt. One she rarely felt anymore, feeling as Thomas was taking it over day by day, despite her unwillingness to share anything. Even the broken, ugly parts he ruined.

His cold eyes kept looking at her in the dream, so unfazed by the idea of her absence. The humiliation turned into physical tears rolling down her cheeks as the memories clouded her reasoning.

Getting up from her bed, she remembered the way he touched her. Avoiding her eyes, throwing his head back. Not bothering to bare himself, so eager to take but never give. Forcing her to pour from a completely empty cup.

Her bare feet were cold against the floor as she quickly made her way through the corridor, knowing where she'd find him. Swiftly opening the door to his office, Y/N didn't bother to say a word or wipe her tears away as she quickly walked up, not looking him in the eyes.

“Y/N?” He asked, taking his glasses off and setting them on his desk while she suddenly pulled him back, creating more space to straddle his lap. Tears kept streaming in a smaller amount, but never ending as she ripped his shirt open, baring his chest.

“What are you–” He tried to speak up, but she didn't let him, as she pressed her lips against his so aggressively his breath caught in his throat.

Pulling on his belt she unbuckled it skillfully, a motion she knew too well from all these years ago. The inner pain burned her chest as she kissed and bit him, while pushing his arms away.

“Shut up” She hissed, as the humiliation from the memories took over her mind. The shame of giving and never asking for more. Of being taken and left without any rest. Pulling his pants open she stroked him impatiently, doing just enough to get him going. It wasn't difficult, as he was the only man she ever slept with, knowing his habits and body more than she'd care to admit.

Her nails raked over his throat and chest, ripping a deep groan from his throat.

He didn't dare to ask, feeling and giving everything she wanted to take. Despite the burning, the physical attraction and need she felt was stronger, her arousal glistening and visible as she lined him up with her entrance, not caring enough to be slow or subtle as she sank down on him fully. A subtle moan pushed past her lips as she squeezed her eyes tightly, doing the same thing he used to.

His eyes were wide open, taking the beautiful sight of her on top of him, but the expression on her face made him hurt so badly, he thought he might not survive. He reached out, wanting her to look at him, but she refused, keeping her eyes squeezed tightly as she moved on top of him frantically chasing her release.

“Y/N” He begged quietly, as her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing to cause pain.

“I hate you. I hate you so much” She whimpered, as his fingers dug into her thighs.

“Please” He whispered, and she let go of his throat, digging her nails into his shoulders.

Thomas wanted to reach out to wipe her tears away, but he knew she wouldn't let him.

So he leaned forward, his forehead pressing against her collarbone when he let out a shaky breath.

“I love you” He whispered weakly, holding her tightly as she haven't stopped moving even for a second, brimming on the edge.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you” She cried out, opening her eyes as she looked down at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were half lidded but he didn't give up, staring and repeating like mantra.

“I love you” kept spilling from his lips as she reached her peak, causing him to follow right after as they reached the release.

His head fell forward, tears escaping his tired eyes as she quickly got off of him, leaving him without a word.

***

Y/N was growing increasingly restless inside of the Arrow House. Her days had been filled with reading and finding activities to keep her sons occupied, which took less time than usual, as Thomas took every opportunity to spend time with them. There was one room she had only been in once prior on this visit. She shuddered at the memory of her desperate conflicted intimacy with Thomas. Y/N knew that room would hold a concentrated form of his presence and essence, even more so after that night. She wasn’t sure if she felt strong enough to enter his sanctum again, but while Thomas was away on business and her boys were having their afternoon nap, the curiosity overcame her hesitation as she entered his space.

It was incredibly… him with deep mahogany furnishings and sumptuous emerald accents. During that night, she had paid no attention to the surroundings in the office - only to him and her inner emotions. Slowly she went deeper into his study, turning on a lamp at his desk. She could picture him here with those round glasses on, absorbed in matters of business both legitimate and less so. To the side of his desk was a small curio cabinet filled with antiquities and presumably family mementos. It hardly garnered a second thought from her until she noticed a figurine on the top shelf next to an old photograph of Thomas and his siblings. It was the figurine.

Before the war, before everything changed, she and Thomas would wander around Birmingham together - young and full of optimism. Both their families were poor and doing their best to survive in the cruel world, but they were the dreamers of their respective clans. He and Y/N often visited a certain shop that sold trinkets and collectables. Y/N yearned to be able to spend money on frivolous little objects like these one day. There was a specific figurine that she longed to own: a porcelain ballerina with graceful fingers and a white and pink lace ruffled skirt. She thought ballerinas were the most fairy-like women that walked the Earth. Of course neither of them could afford such a beautifully crafted figurine, but Y/N swore that one day they would walk in that shop and purchase her ballerina without a second thought to the cost.

That never happened, yet here it was, that same figurine she had seen so many years before sitting in Thomas’ curio cabinet in his most sacred space of his home. She didn’t know what it meant, but she felt tears prick her eyes at the reminder of those beautiful days from their youth. If only they could be like that again. If only the war and the turmoil after it hadn’t soured the tender young love they had known.

“I see you found your way back to my study” Thomas’ deep voice called from the doorway. Y/N was startled. She had been so lost in her memories and feelings that she hadn’t noticed his presence. She shifted awkwardly.

“Yeah, it seems like it.” She responded, glancing towards the curio cabinet. He slowly came up closer, a small grin on his face.

“What did you find?” Thomas asked, tilting his head to the side. Of course he knew what she saw, but wanted to hear it.

“I can’t believe you remembered my ballerina” Y/N said, not meeting his gaze.

“I went back to the shop to get it, but old Mr. Jones said he’d sold it years before. It took some hunting, but I eventually found her. I was hoping to someday show it to you, but… seems like you found her instead.”

“Why?” she questioned him in a small voice.

“Because this is how I remember you. You always said the ballerina was like a fairy or goddess come to Earth, but to me… when I saw that ballerina figure, I saw you.” Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she glanced back towards the cabinet and then back at the man in front of her. Letting out a deep sigh, she wiped her eyes.

“Why now? Why did it take you so long to… to do this? Anything. I waited so long and… and now it's too late, Thomas.” She said, looking at him with an expression that crushed him. Feeling his breath hitch painfully, he felt his throat tightening. He had grieved over losing her and now that Y/N was physically here, she had never felt more far away from him.

After looking into her eyes for a longer moment, Tommy grabbed her hand, slowly straightening it against his palm while the other one reached to his holster, pulling out his gun. Y/N’s eyes widened, but his gaze remained locked on hers, not faltering.

Finally, he didn't feel the fear. Holding the loaded gun, he slowly shoved it into her smaller hand, aiming it forward before he closed his eyes. Pushing his forehead against the muzzle tightly, keeping her wrist upright.

“Then kill me.” He said out loud, the words hanging in the air for a moment. “Because otherwise I will never let you go, no matter how hard you try.”

Thanks for reading lol bye

@iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @garrison-girl-08 @chaimaarouaine11 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @honeymoon8

@dannysankletattoo

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

Text

boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

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earlgreydream · 1 year ago

Text

shattered. | tommy shelby x reader angst

He promised you.

tommy shelby angst. because my heart aches.

"Where is he?" You demanded, glaring hard at Arthur.

Thomas' brother avoided your eyes, muttering to get back behind the bar at the Garrison. You reached out and shoved his shoulder, knocking him back against the bar, catching him off-balance.

"Don't ya fuckin' lay your hands on me, woman!" Arthur yelled at you, getting in your face.

"Tell me where Tommy is!" you yelled back, feeling dozens of shocked eyes boring into you.

You weren't afraid of anything, not even the Shelby's. You had been looking for Tommy, who had promised to meet you at the train station. You'd waited for him on the platform, suitcase in hand, waiting to be whisked off to France with Tommy.

Thomas Shelby had promised to take you to France.

"Tommy," you called to him, walking into his office.

You climbed onto his desk, sitting in front of him as he leaned back, taking a drag from the cigarette between his full lips. His large hand came down to your thigh, squeezing gently and rubbing your leg.

"Come to bed," you whispered, lips hovering over his cheek before pressing a kiss against his warm skin.

"I'm workin'"

You shifted, moving the straps of your slip off your shoulders, the delicate fabric fluttering down to gather around your waist, tempting Tommy with your bare upper body. He leaned back, taking a good look at you as he smoked, dark blue eyes drinking in every inch of you.

"But I need you," you whined, parting your thighs and pulling back the fabric to show him your sex, dripping with desire for him.

"Jesus fucking christ," Thomas swore, pushing your knees open as you tried to close them, teasing him.

"Come to bed."

He stood so abruptly you jumped, the mobster towering over you. After putting out his cigarette, Thomas lifted you up under your knees, carrying you upstairs naked, leaving your flimsy slip on his desk downstairs.

Within minutes, you were writhing on his sheets, pulling hard at his ink-black hair as he ate you out mercilessly. His hot tongue lapped up everything you had to give him, tasting you until you were reduced to ragged screams.

The first time you came on his tongue, but he promised more, moving over you to bury his cock in your soaking pussy, pounding hard and deep as you clung desperately to him. Your nails dragged red lines down his freckled back, your face buried into his shoulder, muffling your moans as his hips connected with yours.

He kissed your neck as you threw your head back, unable to stop a second orgasm from shattering through your body, squeezing tightly around him, pulling Thomas into the chasm with you.

"Don't, don't," you begged hoarsely as he tried to pull out, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"What? You want to warm my cock?"

"Please, stay inside me for a little longer," you begged, exhaling as he settled down, halfway on top of you, buried inside.

"I want to get away from here," you whispered, brushing his hair from his eyes, his head lying on your chest.

"I want to take you away from here," Thomas confessed, squeezing your waist, burying his face in you, fantasizing about taking you away from all of the violence of his job, to live happily together somewhere west of Paris.

"It will be perfect. We'll have horses, I'll paint your barn red," he promised, his fingers gently stroking your bare skin as he spoke.

"I've never wanted anything else other than to be with you," you confessed.

"I'll get you away from here, I promise."

You had waited at the train station, and he never came. You watched the train to Paris come and go, shattering the pieces of your heart and dragging them away with it. Your throat was raw as you made the long walk back to the Garrison to look for him, to figure out why the hell he had stood you up and left you alone.

"John! Where the fuck is Tommy?!" you shouted, looking at his younger brother, turning away from Arthur after getting nowhere with him.

John looked at his feet, refusing to answer you. You picked up a glass off the bar and threw it at the floor, watching it shatter - just like your heart.

"Stop it, right now."

You knew the commanding voice anywhere - Tommy walked out from the back, his eyes hard as he stared you down.

"Where were you?!" you demanded furiously, your chest heaving as you forced back sobs.

"You will not continue to make a scene in my bar," he spoke with unwavering authority, stepping back and opening the door, silently instructing you to follow him.

"You will not tell me what to do!" the words burned your throat, your heel hitting the wooden floor with a resounding crack that sent a wave of certainty up your spine.

You could tell he was fighting back emotion as he walked up to you and grabbed your elbow. He was careful not to hurt you, but dragged you into the privacy of the back room.

"Let go!"

He released you, leaning back against the closed door so you couldn't get past him, trapping you in the room.

"Why, Tommy?" you asked, your voice shaking.

"I had to accept an engagement deal to the prime minister's daughter. It's for business, we need it to-"

You stepped back like you'd been slapped, a sharp pain exploding through your chest.

"For your business? Last night, you promised to leave it all behind and get away with me," you were unable to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

He leaned forward to touch you, but you drew away, backing against the opposite wall, putting as much space as he could between the two of you. Tommy brought his knuckles to his mouth, exhaling a wounded sigh into his hand.

"I have to do this, for my brothers."

"You promised me, Tommy. You slept inside of me last night! You said you loved me!" you screamed, breaking down into full-out sobs, crumbling into pieces.

The pain in his eyes was evident, but it only made you angrier. He had chosen his business over you, a loveless marriage over you - over all of the promises he made under the moon. Years of love and sex and memories shattered in a day, and you were left with no idea how to pick up the pieces.

"It's not just about me, it's not just about you."

"That's a weak excuse," you hissed, slapping his hand away when he reached out to touch you.

"I do love you," he whispered.

"You broke my heart, Thomas Shelby."

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader

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corrupte3d-mindz · 7 months ago

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Forever a Shelby

Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas and you get married.

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings:

protective! Thomas, cocky! Thomas if you squint, kissing, lap sitting,

Thomas Shelby stood at the altar, the weight of his suit jacket pressing down on his broad shoulders. The church was grand, decorated with white lilies and gold ribbons, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Birmingham that he knew so well.

Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floor. The pews were filled with both Shelbys and Changrettas, two families whose histories were steeped in blood and rivalry. Today, however, was meant to be a day of unity, a truce symbolized by the marriage of Thomas Shelby and the daughter of his fiercest enemy, Luca Changretta. Arthur stood beside him, a rare softness in his eyes as he glanced back at the congregation. He reached out, patting Thomas on the shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Nervous, Tommy?"

Thomas turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could almost be considered a smile. "No, Arthur," he replied, his voice low and steady. "Nervous ain't in my nature." His accent, thick and rich, rolled off his tongue, a constant reminder of his roots.

Polly Gray sat in the front row, her dark eyes fixed on her nephew. There was a mixture of pride and apprehension in her gaze, a silent prayer for the future. Beside her, Michael leaned back, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the gathering. Arthur's wife, Linda, looked on with a serene expression, her hand resting in her lap. John sat a few rows behind, bouncing his baby on his knee, his wife Esme smiling warmly at the scene. Ada, dressed in a striking blue dress, chatted animatedly with Finn, while Johnny Dogs and Isaiah exchanged hushed whispers, their eyes darting around the room. The tension in the air was palpable, a heady mix of anticipation and unease. Thomas felt it in his bones, the weight of expectations and the ghosts of the past pressing down on him. Marrying into the Changretta family was a strategic move, but it wasn’t a strategic move on his part, it was love. Yes, Thomas Shelby had fallen in love with a Changretta but the same could be said for her.

“Now, hush Arthur. She’ll be walking down that aisle any minute now,” Thomas murmured, his voice a low growl that carried an edge of authority. He straightened his posture, his gaze fixed on the ornate doors at the end of the aisle

Arthur looked at him again; “You sure you’re not nervous?” Thomas could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, waiting for his reaction. He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto Arthur’s for a moment before he replied.

“I said I’m not fucking nervous, Arthur,” he said, his voice low and steady, laced with a thick Birmingham accent that carried an edge of impatience. To emphasize his point, he kicked Arthur in the back of his left knee, causing his brother to stumble briefly. Thomas chuckled, a rare, genuine sound that broke the tension momentarily. He could always count on Arthur to lighten the mood, even if unintentionally.

The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse; who was he kidding? It was for better! As the doors opened fully, revealing her figure, Thomas felt a rush of emotions. She stood there, framed by the golden light that spilled in from the hallway, her silhouette ethereal and almost otherworldly. Her dress, a delicate creation of black lace and satin, hugged her form gracefully, the long train trailing behind her like a whisper. A veil covered her face, but even through the sheer fabric, Thomas could see the outline of her features, delicate and serene.

Her father, Luka Changretta, stood beside her, his expression a mask of pride and caution. The tension between the two men was palpable, a silent reminder of the bloody history that lay between their families. Thomas’s eyes never left her as she began her slow walk down the aisle. Each step she took seemed to echo in his mind, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of his heart. He could see the slight tremble in her hands, the way she clutched her bouquet of white roses a little too tightly. Despite the nerves, she moved with a grace and determination that he found both admirable and endearing.

Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper in Thomas’s ear. “She looks beautiful, Tommy.”

Thomas nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her. “Aye, she does,” he replied, his voice softer now, filled with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. In that moment, he felt a connection to her that went beyond their shared history, beyond the political and familial implications of their marriage. It was something deeper, a bond that he hoped would grow stronger with time. The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse. But it was never worse, it saw always for better. As she reached the front of the aisle, Luka placed her hand in Thomas’s, a gesture heavy with significance. Their eyes met, while under the veil; a silent understanding passing between them, He lifted the delicate veil that covered her face, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. This was not just a marriage of convenience or strategy; it was a commitment to each other, to the future they would build together.

Jeremiah stood before them, the priest's presence both comforting and solemn. His voice, deep and resonant, filled the chapel, echoing off the ancient walls. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony Thomas Michael Shelby and _______ LaPaglia Changretta." His words carried the weight of history and expectation, binding not just two people, but two families with a fraught past.

Thomas's eyes flickered to the woman beside him. _______ LaPaglia Changretta. She was beautiful, her dark hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, her eyes a deep, enigmatic brown. Her dress was elegant, simple yet stunning, the black fabric contrasting sharply with her olive skin. She stood with a quiet grace, her expression serene, yet there was a fire in her eyes that spoke of strength and determination.

Jeremiah's voice cut through the silence. "Do you, Thomas Michael Shelby, take _______ LaPaglia Changretta to be your lawful wedded wife?" Thomas felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Every decision, every move he made was calculated, and this was no different. "I do," he said, his voice steady, firm. It was a commitment not just to her, but to the path he had chosen, the alliances he was forging.

He turned to her. "Do you, _______ LaPaglia Changretta, solemnly swear to love, honor, and obey till death do you part?" Her response was immediate, her voice clear and unwavering. "I do." There was a finality in those words, a binding promise that echoed through the chapel, sealing their fates together.

Jeremiah's proclamation was met with a collective breath, as if the entire room had been holding it in anticipation. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." The words hung in the air, a declaration that felt both momentous and surreal. Thomas turned to his new wife, his expression unreadable. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that sealed their union. It was a kiss that spoke of duty and obligation, but beneath it all, there was a spark, a glimmer of something more. As they turned to face their families, the applause was polite, restrained. This was no ordinary wedding, and the people gathered here understood the gravity of the situation. Arthur left the alter and walk to the pew to join his family. Their expression a mix of approval and caution. Polly Gray, ever the matriarch, watched with a keen eye, her sharp mind assessing every nuance, every subtle shift in the room.

The Changrettas were less expressive, their faces a mask of formality. Luca Changretta's presence was a dark cloud, a reminder of the delicate balance they were trying to achieve. His eyes bore into Thomas, a silent challenge that promised future confrontation. Thomas took her hand as they walked down the aisle, the weight of expectation heavy on his shoulders. Every step was a reminder of the path he had chosen, he wouldn’t ever regret it; the future he was forging. The guests rose as they passed, their eyes following the couple, whispers of speculation and curiosity filling the air. This was a union that would be talked about for years to come, a merging of two powerful families with a history of bloodshed and betrayal.

Outside the chapel, the sun shone brightly, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere within. The reception awaited, a lavish affair that promised to be both a celebration and a test of the new alliance. As they stepped into the sunlight, Thomas felt the warmth on his face, a brief respite from the shadows that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He glanced at her, her smile a beacon of hope in the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"Welcome to the family," Thomas said, his voice low, the Birmingham accent thick and unmistakable.

The kitchen was a stark contrast to the rest of Arrow House, filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and the earthy scent of the wood burning in the hearth. Thomas stood at the head of the room, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, ensuring he had the attention of every man present. The weight of the day was palpable; this was his wedding day, a day that marked a significant turning point in his life and the Shelby family. His dark suit was meticulously tailored, each stitch a testament to his attention to detail, and his peaked cap sat jauntily on his head, casting a shadow over his face that made his intense expression even more formidable.

"Right, boys, you're all here," he began, his voice carrying the authoritative edge that had come to define him. The men around the kitchen, his brothers Arthur, John, and Finn, along with Michael and a few trusted others, like Charlie and Johnny Dogs turned their attention to him. Each face was a study in respect and a touch of fear, for they knew Thomas was not a man to be crossed, especially not today.

"Today, this is my fucking wedding day," Thomas continued, his tone brooking no argument. His words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken understanding that this day was sacred, not just for him, but for the entire Shelby clan. It was a rare occasion of vulnerability, where the hard-edged leader allowed a glimpse of the man beneath the armor.

John, ever the irreverent one, couldn't help but interject. "Yeah, and you said there'd be no bloody uniforms," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and humor. The tension in the room crackled for a moment, a testament to the volatile nature of their relationships. Thomas fixed John with a steely gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Nevertheless... Nevertheless, John..." he began, his voice a low growl that seemed to reverberate off the walls. He took a step closer, his presence dominating the room. "Despite the bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." His words were a command, not a request, and the message was clear: today was about unity, not division.

His gaze swept around the circle, making eye contact with each man, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. "Now for my wife's sake, nothing will go wrong," he declared, his voice firm and unyielding. His love for his bride was a rare softness in his otherwise hardened demeanor, and he was determined to protect her from the chaos that often surrounded the Shelbys. Thomas pointed outside the kitchen, towards the bustling preparations for the wedding. "Those bastards out there are her family," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of disdain. He had little patience for those who might threaten the harmony of his wedding day, and he would go to great lengths to ensure everything went smoothly.

His hand traveled around the circle, pointing at each man in turn as he spoke. "And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything..." His voice trailed off as he fixed his gaze on Arthur, the eldest and most unpredictable of the brothers. There was a pause, a moment where the weight of his words seemed to settle over the room like a heavy fog.

Isaiah, leaning casually against the counter, broke the uneasy silence. "Tom..?" Thomas's gaze snapped to Isaiah, a flicker of impatience crossing his features. "To... WHAT!?" he barked, his voice low but commanding.

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What about snow," he ventured, his tone cautious. John eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Yeah, their women are sports, I’ll say that.."

"No. No. No." Thomas cut him off sharply, striding towards Isaiah with purpose. He stopped inches from his face, his breath hot and laced with the smell of tobacco. "No cocaine," he said, jabbing a finger towards Isaiah's face for emphasis. "No cocaine."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Thomas turned his attention to John, who stood to Isaiah's right. "No sport," Thomas said, waving his hand dismissively. "No telling fortunes."

He began to pace, the soles of his polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the tiled floor. Each step seemed to echo with unspoken threats, a reminder of the consequences of disobedience. He approached Arthur, his oldest and most volatile brother, stopping just short of him. "No racing," Thomas ordered, his voice a low growl. Arthur met his gaze with a slight nod, the fire in his eyes dimmed by his brother's authority. Breaking from the circle, Thomas crossed to Finn, the youngest of the Shelby brothers. Grabbing Finn's face with his left hand, he forced him to look into his eyes. "No fucking sucking petrol," he snarled, his grip tightening. He delivered a light slap to Finn's cheek, a reminder of the discipline he expected. "Out of their fucking cars."

Satisfied, Thomas released Finn and turned to Charlie, who had been lingering on the edge of the group. "And, you, Charlie," he said, his voice softer but no less intense. "Stop spinning yards about me, eh?" Charlie, taken aback, spoke up as Thomas turned his back. "I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom," he defended.

Thomas took a deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, a rare sign of the stress he carried. Returning to the center of the circle, he spun slowly, addressing them all. "But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers," he began, his voice rising with intensity. "Despite the provocation from her family, no fighting."

He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Isaiah. The room seemed to hold its breath as Thomas slowly made his way toward him, the echo of his footsteps on the wooden floor punctuating the silence. As he reached Isaiah, Thomas lifted his chin with a firm but controlled hand, forcing Isaiah to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold, yet there was a flicker of something deeper—an unspoken understanding, perhaps. “Oi,” Thomas began, his voice a low growl that resonated with authority. He pointed a finger at Isaiah, his expression unwavering. “No fighting.”

With a swift, deliberate movement, Thomas shifted to his right, positioning himself in front of John. He didn’t waste a moment, his finger darting out to point at John with the same intensity. “No fucking fighting,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. John's smirk faltered under Thomas's glare, replaced by a nod of compliance.

Thomas moved again, this time to Arthur. Their eyes met, and an unspoken tension filled the air. Arthur, ever the wild card, was the one Thomas needed to keep in check the most. Pointing at his older brother, Thomas's voice was a commandment. “No fighting.” Arthur, his usual bravado momentarily subdued, nodded with a grunt, understanding the gravity of the order. Next, Thomas’s eyes fell on Michael, who was leaning against the wall with a nonchalant air. Without a word, Thomas pointed at him. Michael straightened up, his casual demeanor replaced by a look of acknowledgement. The silent exchange spoke volumes—Michael knew exactly what was expected of him.

Finally, Thomas turned towards Finn’s direction, his youngest brother, “No,” he said, his voice slicing through the tension. He then swung his gaze back to Arthur’s direction. “Fucking.” And finally, his eyes landed on Charlie's direction. “Fighting.”

The room fell silent once more, the weight of Thomas’s words hanging heavily in the air. Each man understood the simplicity of the command. In this room, defying Thomas Shelby was not an option. Thomas took a drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light, and exhaled a plume of smoke. He walked towards his coat, which was draped over a chair between Michael and Arthur. “Good,” he muttered, his satisfaction evident in the single word. With his back turned slightly, Thomas didn’t see the butler approaching. The man, new to the household and unfamiliar with the Shelby way, hesitated for a moment too long. The collision was inevitable. The impact was sudden, and Thomas spun around, his face a mask of fury. “Get the fuck off me!” he snarled, shoving the butler to the ground. The bottle of wine the butler had been holding shattered on the floor, red liquid spreading like blood across the wood.

Arthur, ever the enforcer, hurled his glass at the butler, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. The butler scrambled to his feet, fear written all over his face as he hurried out of the kitchen, leaving behind a mess of broken glass and spilled wine. Thomas exhaled one last plume of smoke before stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. He adjusted his coat, smoothing out the fabric as he straightened up. “Right,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. “Let’s get this done.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, his family and comrades falling into step behind him. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway as they made their way towards the main event. Thomas’s mind was already racing ahead, planning, strategizing, ensuring that everything would go smoothly. But the words he had spoken in the kitchen lingered in the air, a solemn vow that no matter what happened, there would be no fighting. Not today.

As Thomas Shelby sat at the head of the table during his wedding dinner, the room was alive with the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversation. He raised the crystal glass to his lips, savoring the last drops of whiskey that burned pleasantly down his throat. Setting the glass down with a soft clink, his eyes swept across the room, taking in the faces of his family and the guests. His gaze lingered for a moment on his wife her beauty striking even in the dim candlelight. She was radiant, her smile lighting up the room. But as his eyes drifted to her father, he noticed the man's steely gaze fixed upon him. Thomas arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"You look absolutely stunning today, luv," Thomas remarked, his voice low and tinged with admiration. "Hard to keep me eyes off of you." He reached out to gently squeeze her hand, a small, affectionate gesture amidst the formality of the occasion.

"I can say the same for you, Mr. Shelby," she replied, her smile radiant as she returned his gaze, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Thomas smiled, a rare, genuine expression that softened his features. His attention then shifted to her father, a man of stature and presence, seated a bit farther down to her. "Well, you're not the only one whose eyes are on me, eh?" he quipped, a hint of playful charm in his voice.

"Luv," he murmured, leaning towards his wife, "would you mind telling your father to stop staring me down, eh?" His tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes.

His bride glanced nervously at her father, then back at Thomas. "Tommy, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice tinged with apprehension, "but that's just how he is."

Thomas nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I see," he replied, his voice low and measured. He leaned back in his chair, his mind working quickly. He was used to dealing with difficult situations, but this was his wedding day, a day that should have been free of such tensions.

There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of doubt in Thomas's eyes as he considered the weight of his actions. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he reached out and gently cupped her face in his hand. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he knew that this was where he belonged. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a silent declaration of his love and commitment. The room erupted into applause and cheers, the sound echoing off the walls as Thomas and Luka's families celebrated their union.

Hours had slipped by like fleeting ghosts since Thomas had exchanged vows, and now, in the quiet intimacy of their bedroom, he sat with his new wife perched gently on his lap. The flickering light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow, accentuating the soft features of her face and the delicate curves of her figure. He gazed at her, his eyes tracing every line, every contour, as if committing her beauty to memory.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Mrs. Shelby," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rasp that betrayed a hint of awe. His hands, calloused yet gentle, cradled her waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the fabric of her dress. The weight of her presence on his lap was a comfort, grounding him in the reality of this new chapter of his life.

"I like when you call me Mrs. Shelby," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. Her words were like a balm to his weary soul, a reminder of the new life they were beginning together.

Thomas wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair. It was a moment of peace amidst the chaos that always seemed to follow him.

"I like it too," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "It suits you, Mrs. Shelby."

"You're fuckin' perfect for me... y'know that?" Thomas's voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with sincerity. His hand reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. There was a gentleness in his touch, a rare vulnerability that he showed only to her.

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of their love and commitment to each other. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a shared connection that transcended words. Her hands roamed freely, exploring his body with a familiarity that spoke of countless nights spent together. Thomas pulled her closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist, holding her as if afraid she might slip away. Their kiss deepened, a silent communication of their love and desire for each other. It was a dance they knew well, a rhythm that was uniquely theirs. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further. His hair, usually so meticulously styled, was now a tousled mess, a testament to the passion between them. She loved the way his hair felt between her fingers, the way it seemed to have a life of its own.

They broke the kiss, but remained intertwined, her head resting against his chest, his chin on her shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the day's events slowly settling on their shoulders. The gravity of their new union was not lost on Thomas; he knew the responsibilities that came with it, the need to protect and provide for his new family. His mind drifted to the future, a future now entwined with hers. He thought of the challenges they would face, the dangers that lurked in the shadows of their world. But he also thought of the moments of joy, the simple pleasures they would share.

Author’s Notes:

Y’all, I fucking love this oneshot..it’s so cute I finally did my own rendition of the wedding scene..ahhhhhhhh I feel like I got it just right y’all..ahh it’s fucking cute!!!

Deadass I should have written smut but nah, I don’t feel like it

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cillianhead · 2 months ago

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Twitterpated || Tommy Shelby x reader

summary: You and Tommy spend your first spring together in the sunshine.

this is just a little short n sweet blurb for you all

WARNINGS: Mostly Fluff, the tiniest bits of smuttiness... Tommy gets a bit handsy, cuss words/adult language. 18+ MINORS DNI

It wasn’t often that you’d have days like this in Birmingham. The sky was usually grey with gloom and rain all around, in fact, you were used to the clouds, and you were well acquainted with the bleakness that was Birmingham.

But here you sat with your legs draped across your husband's lap and the sun shining proudly in the sky. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight. It almost felt like something out of a daydream. You wore a pretty little sundress, one you never really got to wear considering the typically cold and dreary weather— but once again, it was warm for once. Warmer than what you were used to.

Tommy sat with an open shirt, pale skin exposed from beneath his unbuttoned dress shirt. Oh, he looked divine. Your soft, nimble fingers caress his hair, and for once, he's not smoking a cigarette. For once, Tommy's mind isn't somewhere else, it's entirely on this moment. One hand of his had slipped up underneath your skirt like the cheeky bastard that he was, thick fingers toying idly with the waistband of your skimpy little panties. It wasn't something Tommy thought he was capable of feeling. Contentment, that's what he felt. It clung to him, heavy in his chest, the feeling was sweet and syrupy in a way... You couldn't remember a time you had seen him so relaxed. Besides, when he was in bed with you, of course. Tommy wasn't sure he deserved to feel this way. You had been in his life for a good five years by now, you had given him two little children, and all of your unconditional love. You were the kind of woman he'd never question his loyalty to; he knew you just wanted him for him and not for whatever other reasons women had wanted him for in the past.

Though Tommy did sometimes question why someone like you-- pure, innocent, and sweet, would love someone like him-- dark, tortured, and incomplete. The picnic blanket beneath you was red and checkered, the perfect gingham pattern, and hell, there was even a wicker basket full of fruit and half-eaten baked goods. In your idyllic bliss, you were eager to tell Tommy about your day and he was eager to listen... or at least that's what you thought. You rambled cheerfully on about the kids, and Tommy would nod gruffly, hand squeezing your thigh and body leaning into yours just a little more. You didn't think much of it when his gaze drifted away from you and slightly off into the distance; you were so consumed in chatting away that you didn't even notice the sound of hooves trotting gently in the grass towards the two of you. There was a stern look on Tommy's face, a look of deep concentration that seemed to be slipping away second by second as he stared off into the distance.

And then there was that goddamned smile of his, that dazzling grin that had practically charmed the pants off of you when you first met. But he wasn't looking at you in this moment, no, he was looking at the beast before him. Tommy's eyes glimmered with a certain fondness you had only ever seen him look at you with. That's when you stopped talking, wondering who or what he could possibly be looking at with so much love.

It didn't surprise you to find out that it was a horse he was looking at.

"Tommy, what are you-" You started before following his line of sight, finding your eyes landing on Tommy's favorite horse of them all. She was a big black mare, her name was Hestia... And god, you couldn't even be mad at Tommy for giving love eyes to the horse instead of you. He was always easily distracted when it came to his horses. "Tommy!" You scolded with a light smack to his chest, causing him to break out of his trance and snap back to you. "Are you even listening?" You laughed incredulously. "'Course I am, baby... keep going..." Tommy grumbled, squeezing your hip reassuringly. But his head only turned to look up at the horse once again, who chuffed happily at the sight of him. "Hello, Hesty..." Tommy crooned, reaching one hand out to pat at her muzzle. "Looking well, girl... how you liking this weather, eh?" He asked as if the beast would respond. She let out another short series of huffs before wandering off to graze in the long pickle-green grass. As soon as Tommy's attention was back on you, you were colliding your body with his and latching your mouth onto those sweet pair of lips of his. It was too much. It was just too much. It turned you on when Tommy got all sweet and tender like that, it made you feel all fuzzy inside. The fact that he loved his horses so much... made your heart practically burst out of your chest. He grunted into the kiss, though swiftly responded in turn to your needy kisses with his tongue probing into your mouth and his hands gripping at the meat of your hips. Tommy loved it when you got like this. "Easy, girl..." He warned lowly as you straddled his hips. As you lifted your head from him to look down at him, there was a prideful sparkle in those cerulean eyes, a look that made your chest ache and your core throb. "Actin' like a bloody mountain lion, hm?" Whatever story you had to tell was completely gone from your mind, all that mattered to you now was feeling up your dearest husband and soaking in the warm rays of sunlight that were just so rare around these parts. It didn't matter that you were out in the open, it didn't matter that the birds and the bees would see you ravish your husband on this crimson picnic blanket. Right now, you were just two animals getting coupled up for the spring, just like all the other creatures who wandered nearby.

Even after all this time together, you were both undeniably and passionately twitterpated by one another. And it would stay that way for as long as you lived.

Hi all... I hope you enjoyed this sappy little piece, I miss you all... I know I don't write as much these days. I'm working my way through a really long Robert Capa fic which I hope to get out soon!

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut

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mydear-corinthian · 8 months ago

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Bait || Shelby family x reader

Synopsis: Reader went out partying and the Shelby family's enemy attacked her. Pairing: Shelby family x sister! reader Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort, reader gets injured badly, mentions of blood, stabbing, and violence, swearing Notes: rushed :C, gif is mine Click here to find the MAIN Masterlist Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS Masterlist

It was just a usual night in Small Heath. Due to the boredom, you decided to go outside and maybe have a little fun.

You dressed up. A long gold dress decorated your body. A feathered hat decorated your head. And a few pearl jewelry shined your neck, arms, and ears. Grabbing your gold colour purse, you exited your room, spiraling down the wooden stairs of your family's house.

As you went down, Polly saw you. "Where you going, love?" she asked, smiling.

Grabbing a cigarette stick, you placed it on your lips, leaning to Polly as your aunt was also about to light her long black stick of the cancerous stick. "Party, Aunt Pol. I'm getting bored staying in this house," you replied, your cigarette finally lit.

The matriarch of the family took a puff of her cigarette, her serious eyes locked on yours.

"Where? Who's going with you?" Polly asked.

"Oh, Aunt Pol.., I'll be fine. It's just 2 streets away from here. I'll be home at 2 am."

"Take care and enjoy love," she smiled, opening the door of the house's entrance, allowing you to exit the house.

The only real issue was that you were wearing heels on the short walk from the house to the party location. Warm lights and vehicles adorned the spacious mansion. The estate was packed with elegantly dressed people in suits. You headed straight to the mansion's bar as soon as you got there and ordered a drink for yourself. Your heels reverberated against the bar's porcelain tiles. Men made up the majority of the crowd, and they were all too busy chatting, drinking, and trying to find women to satisfy their lusts.

"Whiskey, please," you ordered. You sat down just in front of the barman, glancing at everyone while waiting for your drink.

There were a few faces, you knew them because of your brother, Tommy and some were rich clients from the betting shop.

Finally, the barman gently placed a glass of whiskey in front of you. "Your drink, Madam."

You thanked him, picked up the glass, and sipped, letting the alcohol wash over your mouth. After placing a couple more drink orders, you made your way to the dance floor and started to dance energetically to the loud music being played. You moved your hips in time with the song's tune. You're waving your arms in the air. As you danced with the women, the dance floor was filled with a chorus of woos and laughs. Drinks were chugged into your system in tremendous amounts.

You excused yourself and your new friends to go the restroom after a few hours of nonstop drinking and dancing. You were relieved that after eating at your place for a few hours, despite having numerous drinks, you were sober. You reapplied your clothing and your cherry lipstick as you straightened your hair in front of the big mirror. It's almost two, you realize as you glance at your pocket watch. Because you're the kind of person who takes responsibility seriously, is mature, and always arrives on time, Polly wasn't concerned about you going out late to party. After gathering your belongings, you put them back into your golden handbag and head out of the bathroom.

Finally saying goodbye to your new girlfriends, your heels found their way to the mansion's exit. Since you were sober already, you decided to take a walk back home.

As you walk through the dark streets of Birmingham, you cannot help but feel uneasy. You felt like you weren't alone at all. You felt that someone or somebody was following you.

And you were right.

Reaching for your pocket gun, you tried to protect yourself from the person who was following you by looking over your shoulder. You were too late, though. You were forcefully grabbed by two men, one of whom disarmed your gun. You were trapped against the wall by two rough pairs of arms, your head hitting the rocky concrete. Particularly on your stomach, you felt something cold and sharp graze your flesh, and the pain eventually got intolerable.

"What the fuck do you want!" you panted weakly, feeling a warm liquid drip on the side of your stomach.

"Just.. sending a message to your git brother," the low Irish accent sent shivers down your spine.

Campbell.

On the other hand, Polly was at the dining table, a cigarette in her hand as she watched the clock tick.

It was already past 2 and she started to get worried. You always come home on time - not even a minute late.

Polly hurriedly went to the telephone and dialed Tommy's number, her fingers shivering.

"Hello?"

"Tommy,"

"Pol? Why are you calling at this hour?"

"I-it's (y/n). She's not home yet and I'm starting to get worried. Oh God, Tommy. What if something happened to her?" Polly stammered, holding the telephone pole tightly.

"Not at home? I'll call John and Arthur." Tommy replied before ending the call.

You tried to move and get out from their touch but due to the injury that you had, you were getting weaker.

"Tell your fucking boss to fuck off!" you hollered, heaving due to the pain down your stomach.

Punches rained down on you so hard you were gasping for air and screaming in pain as two strong fists crashed into your stomach and chest. Every blow sent waves of pain through your body, causing your legs to buckle and your breath to come in short, frantic gasps. Every strike was brutal, breaking your will and power in the process.

During the cruel assault, a fresh, burning pain suddenly appeared in your abdomen. Compared to previous experiences, this feeling was sharper and stronger. Frightened, you looked down to see the sparkle of a blade pressing against your body again. The man with the knife was cautious, taking his time as he carved the initials "C.C" into your flesh. The letters were an endless source of pain and abuse burned into your mind.

Dizziness was starting to get worse and worse but you paid no mind as you built up all of your strength to get up and grab your gun that was thrown on the cold hard bricks of the dark alley. Your cold fingertips pulled the trigger, emptying the bullet chamber by shooting them non-stop.

Two bodies were now on the cold floor, both lifeless, and their blood pooling out of their bodies, mixing with the hard concrete.

"You don't fuck with the Peaky Blinders."

Taking a deep breath at what happened, you stood up but moaned in pain after you felt the cuts and bruises all over your body. Looking down at your stomach, your dress was slit and filled with your blood.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. Leaving your bag alone and limply walked back to the house.

Every step was a painful fight and the walk seemed to go on forever. Your back was laden with weight, and the pressure turned your spine into a throbbing rod of agony. Your single shoe scraped the uneven sidewalk, causing sharp pains to shoot through your leg with each step. As you struggled to remain straight the world around you became hazy and wobbly, and your vision became less sharp at the edges. You could feel consciousness sliding away, hovering on the edge of darkness, and every breath was a strained gasp. If you returned home without passing out, you were quite lucky.

Thankfully, you did.

Your bloodied palm opened the silver-colored knob, twisting it, and opened the door with all of your might.

There Polly was, looking at you with widened eyes. She ran towards you immediately, checking up on you.

"Dear God (y/n)! What happened to you?!"

Your body became weak due to a lack of strength in your muscles. You had a really pale face. Your dress was stained and damaged by your blood, and your hair is disheveled. Your aunt's voice fades more and further, the walls in your head beginning to swirl. After that, all you could see was darkness.

Polly caught you before your head contact with the wooden floor. Your arm limped on her touch.

The whole Shelby family including Michael, arrived at the doorstep, looking at the scene in front of them with their eyes locked and widened.

"Help me out here!"

As Polly commanded, everyone went inside. Tommy, John, and Arthur carried you gently before placing you on the dinner table that was filled with glasses and plates. Tommy removed the items on the table before Arthur placed you there. Michael and Ada quickly grabbed the first aid kit that was inside the kitchen room's wooden cabinet.

When Polly teared up your dress, she gasped.

"C.C.. Fucking Campbell," Polly's voice hissed, seeing the carved initials on your stomach, bleeding harshly.

Your breaths started to get faint and weaker, your body started to get cold.

"Stay with me, (y/n)," Ada whispered between sobs as she watched Polly do something with your wounds and help her aunt hand out the supplies that she needed.

"Fuck.. Fuck!" Tommy shouted, walking in circles as he rubbed his temples harshly.

"Arthur, John, Finn, Michael, find Campbell immediately!" he ordered.

"Bring me back his fucking head."

Michael and the brothers moved quickly, their actions a blur of rage and anger. They took immediate action after realizing this. With a mixture of terror and determination, their hands trembled as they took out their firearms from their pockets. The icy steel of the weapons was comforting, a guarantee of justice for the wrongs done.

They left the home without saying anything, the wooden door slamming shut behind them with a loud crash. They were barely aware of the sharp, biting night air. Their only thought was to locate the person who was responsible for this.

"She isn't even part of this fucking shit and yet she was targeted,"

Polly's eyes shot daggers with Tommy's blue orbs while her hands focused on healing up the wounds all over your stomach.

"You better fucking catch him, Tommy."

As soon as Polly's done patching you up, she stormed out in front of her nephew, disappointed at him.

"I'll look out for (y/n). You heard Aunt Pol, catch that bastard," Ada said, fixing up the used cotton and alcohol before throwing it out.

Tommy sighed as he exited the house. Looking for the man who did this to you.

You woke up with the sunlight beaming on you. Looking at your surroundings, you noticed where you were right away.

Slowly, you tried getting up but your body fell again, moaning in pain.

"Easy, (y/n). Don't move, your wounds are still fresh," Ada said, slowly guiding your back to allow you to lie down comfortably.

"A-Ada, I was so scared... I didn't know what was going on.."

Your eyes were starting to get wet until tears were dropping down your cheeks as you recalled what happened last night.

You were so traumatized. You didn't want to remember again.

And that time, you knew that remembering is a curse.

"You're safe now, love. We're here now," Polly said, her arms locked with yours, giving you a comforting smile.

The door opened, and your brothers were there.

They immediately greeted you and asked how you were.

"God, love. I'm sorry that happened to you," your oldest brother, Arthur, said, gently combing your hair with his rough fingertips.

"It's okay, Arthur. I'm fine now,"

"We got him already," Finn remarked.

The gang leader showed up, his coat hanging on the chair. His footsteps echoed in the room as he approached you, placing his palms on your head.

"How are you now?" he asked, sighing.

"Fucking scared, Tom. I nearly died! This is fucked up."

"I know, (y/n). I know."

Polly stood up in the middle of the small argument, shutting the both of you. Her fists curl up like a ball, her brows knit together.

"Let her rest first, Tom. She had enough already," she said.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly before exiting the house.

Tommy felt simply anger and guilt. Even though his sister isn't involved in the business, she was the one targeted. She's currently in there getting better from the physical and emotional trauma she recently went through.

"You're safe now, love." Polly gave you a comforting smile before asking the other Shelby siblings for breakfast.

"Thank you, Aunt Pol."

#peaky blinders #x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #peaky blinders angst #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #john shelby #michael gray #angst

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pennyserenade · 29 days ago

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dear, dark child | thomas shelby x reader

summary | tommy wakes up from a nightmare and you help him through it. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | 18+, pre-established relationship, unprotected sex, nightmares, mention of drugs, mention of suicide, mention of childbirth, cigarette smoking, mentions of prejudice against romani people, angst, pinv, creampie, dirty talk, rough sex, doggy style. word count | 2.2k+ a/n | this is the first thing i've ever written for tommy, so i think it's safe to say i'm a little nervous to be posting this. in my mind, this is more geared towards season 1 tommy. also, i wrote this all in one afternoon so go easy on me.

Thomas Shelby is the most handsome augury of death you have ever seen. He has finely carved cheekbones, a glow in his crystalline eyes, lips full and pink and kissed with freckles. His mother walked herself into the cut, and they say there is a madness embedded in them all—his sister, his brothers, the aunt. You stand at the end of his bed, lips parted, looking at him in all of his haunted beauty, as if to say something, but you decide against it.

In the black of night, he is not as he is in the daylight. There’s a fresh sheen of sweat on his skin, and a look of fear in his eyes. As you stand at the end of his bed, cold, unsure, you mouth out the words: “All is well, Thomas, all is fine.”

He is the Romani boy they say speaks in spells, in curses, who has been othered because they think he is half devil. As a child, he clung to the skirts of his beautiful mother, loved her to the point of anguish. She dreamt of him when he was in her stomach, pictured a raven haired boy who spoke her words, who had her eyes. Tommy learned her language far better than the rest of her children did. His mother knew the world would give itself to this child of her. He would be beautiful, he would be ambitious. He would be cunning, too, and devious. She knew that many times in his life, he would have to figure out how far things could bend before they snapped completely. When she had pushed him out in the dark of a tunnel, she feared nothing. She did not need light to know this child of hers, because he had come to her in dreams. “He’s a boy,” she had told his father, “and his name is Thomas.” He had cried louder than his brother before him, and she knew that in darkness he was born, and that in darkness he would stay. But she laid him upon her bare breast, and promised herself that she would tell him of the light in the world, and she knew that the good in his soul would weed out the bad. This son of hers was not cursed; he was only a child of the night. She would spend the rest of her short life telling him this, and he would never learn it.

You reach out and touch his trembling hand. Beneath your touch, he is clammy. You feel his present emotions pulsate beneath your fingertips. He is ashamed, afraid, and angry. Before he can speak, utter something he does not mean but won’t take back, you crawl into his bed, onto his lap.

Your mother was like his in many ways, and in your veins you carry on the tradition of knowing. It is for the same reasons he tells people he can charm animals that you pretend you know nothing: to survive.

You know you will love him, and you know he will betray you. When you press your body into his, wrapping your arms around his sweat drenched skin, you do it because you know in this foreboding future of yours that he never meant to, that he is sorry, that he loves you, too. Some things are fated, prewritten, unavoidable and inevitable; the failure to comfort him won’t change the shape of your lives.

He clings to you, perhaps to his own confusion, and a little to your own. You feel beneath you a mass of frustration, of anger, of fear. You expected something dangerous, something explosive, not this. Though you lurched at him to tame it, you weren’t sure it was going to work; now that he sits beneath you, holding you in the same manner you hold him, you let out a quiet, relieved sigh.

“It’s okay,” you assure him once more, with more conviction. Your voice is less meek, more your own, the fear of his anger ebbing each second he holds his face to your chest.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, though there’s no tears that wet the cloth of your gown. His fingers clench around your sides, gripping at the fabric, before he pulls back to look up at you. “The things in my fuckin’ head—“

“It’s alright.” Your fingers thread through his damp hair, pushing back the strands that have fallen over his forehead. This is no devil beneath you. Just a man. Just a boy. “You don’t have to explain to me.”

He swallows roughly, falling back onto the pillows behind him. Tommy rubs his hand over his face and sighs. As the frustration coils more tightly in his stomach, you feel anxious—too aware of the emotions in his frame. Your hand touches the skin of his stomach. It is scorching beneath your cool touch, alight with fury, with fear. He hardly knows the difference between the two.

“Take off your gown,” he says, deep voice still gravelly from sleep. You do, gathering the ends of the fabric up by your waist, then lifting it above your head.

He has seen you like this many times before. You’re no whore–don’t have the emotional bandwidth to handle it–but you’re certainly no prude. The first time you locked eyes on Thomas Shelby, something more palpable than the spirits told you what he wanted with you. The light in his eye. The tweak of his lips into a smirk. The attraction you felt, passingly, then fully, as he approached you in the pub. You had known this was him, the boy they said was the devil, could see it in his eyes, but did not mind.

He does not fuck as roughly as others, but he also does not fuck as kindly as you know he has the craving for. He explores your goose pimpled flesh, still in the midst of regaining his composure. His fingers tremble, but he pretends they don’t. Tommy dances them across your bare chest with calculated ease, tweaking an already pert nipple, cupping the tissue into his too warm palm.

Desire grows inside of him, takes the place of anger. You kiss, hard and fast, because his body is hungry for a fix—stronger than tobacco, better than whiskey, safer than illicit drugs. He grows hard beneath you, and it begins to leak out, gone in moments, the things that made him hot to the touch. He takes your head between his hands, and brushes too affectionately over your jaw. Somethings are too instinctual to stop; this is the good his mother saw, her dream manifested. His body molds into your own, craves a thing he can’t comprehend just yet, because he is too tired, too young, to know what love might begin as.

Tommy asks you to lay flat on your stomach, but he has a way of requesting things that make them seem like callous demands. The gruff of his voice. The anger that wraps around all of his words, that has done since he got back from war, changed. You might be the only person who does not flinch or take offense. You lie on your stomach, hands tucked beneath his pillow, eyes pressed closed. Sometimes, he puts his mouth on you. To ready you, he explained, and you like that. Tonight he doesn’t seem to be in the mood. He positions himself between your legs, kisses along the arch of your spine, and whispers against your ear, “Ass up, then.”

There’s nothing to separate you two: no blankets, no articles of clothing, not even the frigid air of his bedroom, the fire long gone out. You feel the head of his cock at your entrance mere seconds before he plunges inside of you.

You muffle your groan in the pillow beneath you, fingers tightening around the cloth of the sheets, holding on. At first the intrusion of him is too much, a burning chafe, but he slows, holding himself mid thrust inside of you. You feel the hair on his stomach prickle against you as he leans over your body, curling around you, lips touching your shoulder. The tenuous string of connection you have with him grows stronger, less blurred around the edges, more in focus. Inside of you, he feels safe. It’s inexplicable, but you feel it too; comfort even in his roughest touches, knowing he doesn’t mean harm, that he thinks of you, that he wants you. Your body catches up, slick gathering between your legs as he slides himself in again, more slowly.

His fingers wrap around your neck, cradling your neck more than pressing into your skin. Tommy’s thrusts begin to pick up, and they become more punishing, driving your hips down into the bed. You moan, toes curling, desire pooling in your stomach as your clit rubs passively against the sheets. It’s not enough friction to do anything but drive you insane.

He moves back up, sitting on his knees, the fingers on his free hand finding the curves at your side. He holds you there, pushing himself in, emitting soft grunts into the still of night as he buries himself inside of you. The bed begins to creak beneath you both. Old as it is, it is never quite prepared for the violence of his movements. He doesn’t care. Let the whole house hear; God knows they’ve done it to him many times before. He needs to bury himself deeply inside of you, to feel the way you clench around him when he guides your head back to look you in the eye.

Your lips part, wrapping around a quiet moan. Tommy drives his hips against your backside in a determined rhythm, trying to find the part of you that cries out obscenely. He likes you best in positions where you arch, submit, take what he gives happily. His cock hits the top of your walls, and he nods when you finally audibly moan for him, smug. It isn’t enough that you’ve gone slick between your thighs, that his cock is coated in it. More, more, more—for he still is the boy who has not quite learned how far things can bend before they break.

He rubs his thumb against your bottom lip, and you wrap your warm mouth around it. “You like that?” he grits out, fucking into you roughly, quickly, determined. There’s a new sheen of sweat on his body, mingling with your own in the places you meet. It is better, less acrid than the stuff he was coated in before.

“I do,” you pant. You reach out and wrap your hand around the metakl frame of the bed. He laughs, though you’re not sure he finds anything funny.

“I know,” he answers, taking his hand from your face, your neck, gripping instead on your shoulder. He pushes you back onto his cock. “Always do like it. Always take everything I give you.”

“Yes.” Your fingers tighten around the bars. Words escape you, thoughts diminishing into emotion, into sensations. His fingers on your skin. His cock in your cunt, hitting the top of you. The entirety of him behind you, up on bended knees, a supposed half devil. A child of the night. The fury of his passion. The swirl of anger he has pushed away. The fear he doesn’t want to come back. He buries it inside of you, these things he cannot say.

His hips sputter against yours, and it is over: the warmth of his cum fills you, and he wraps an arm around your stomach, pulling you close to him, kissing along your shoulder.

Tommy isn’t forgetful; his other hand reaches around and finds your neglected clit. His teeth scrape against your flesh as he circles it with his fingers, drawing out more delicious sounds from you. His cum begins to drip down your legs, but he does not mind. You twitch, jut, fight out of his embrace, but he holds tighter, humming in delight because he knows only he can touch you like this.

“Show me,” he demands, voice rough, “Show me how much you like my cum in you.”

You reach behind, grip onto his hip. “Tommy,” is all you manage.

“Show me.” He rubs your clit faster, pressing down harder. His face tucks into your neck. “You’re grateful, aren’t you? That I fuck you so good?” The desire builds in your stomach. He kisses the side of your mouth. “Fuckin’ show me!”

You cum, and it lasts for what feels like an eternity. You register the sensation of his prideful, earnest laughter against your skin, a familiar timbre, an echo that your bones know well. At one moment it’s too much. Then it’s nothing: his hands, his fingers, his cock abandoning you.

With all of his troubles still leaking onto your thighs, Tommy reaches over to the nightstand to grab a cigarette. “Do you want one?” he asks. There’s no disinterest in his tone—only the monotonous, somber sound of his voice piercing the air. You lay on your stomach, face pressed against the now cool pillow. “Guess that’s a no.”

The room smells of sex. Not bad, per se, but potent. His smell and yours, sweet and acidic, and something indistinguishable. His hand rests on your back. “Alright?” he asks.

You turn your head in his direction. “Alright,” you confirm. “And you?”

The cigarette burns orange, the crackle of his inhale filling the space between you. “All is well,” he says, repeating the words you gave him.

You hum in agreement. Yes, for now, in this moment, in this place, all is well. The darkness cloaks you both, shields you from the future, and nothing can bring you any harm.

How fortunate it is to know this much.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #peaky blinders #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 29 days ago

Text

.⋆｡In the Blood｡⋆.

Alfie Solomons x plus size reader

The youngest Shelby sister was supposed to be the good one, the innocent one, but apparently she’s got some secrets of her own

Warnings: shelby!reader (unspecified as to whether she was adopted or not), nudity, protective Tommy, getting caught in the act (sex, sex is the act), mentions of unplanned pregnancies and castration WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Ada knew something was wrong with her little sister- she was skittish, hiding her eyes beneath caps and behind her hair, and most telling of all, she stopped coming to family meetings. The final straw came when the elder Shelby sister sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a cold cup of tea as Karl slept in a small bassinet by her chair. He had been a pain all night so Ada had resorted to staying up, gently rocking him with her foot.

Dawn was just starting to break when the front door opened. Ada was perfectly positioned at the kitchen table to see her little sister, who had just turned 21, walk into the house dressed in a coat that was far too big to be hers with her shoes in her hands. The grin on her face was wide and dazed- Ada knew that look well. She smiled and went back to her tea.

When Y/N finally did stumble down the stairs, 10 minutes past noon, Ada and Pol lay in wait. “Good morning princess.” She groaned in reply as she took the offered painkillers from her aunt. “Have a good night?” Ada teased.

“Was fine, just had some drinks with the girls.” Pol raised a dark eyebrow at her niece.

“Oh really. And I suppose it was one of your ‘girls’ that gave you that bruise on your neck.” Y/N’s eyes widened comically and her hand flew to her throat in an attempt to hide where her skin was discoloured. But after a moment, she sagged into one of the kitchen chairs, knowing that she was caught.

“You won’t tell Tommy will you?”

Pol patted her hand lovingly. “Tommy won’t know until you’re ready to tell him but he will find out eventually. I think you’re old enough to have a couple secrets of your own.”

“It won’t be a secret for long if you get pregnant.” Ada murmured under her breath. Y/N’s head whipped around. Her eyes had that same dangerous gleam that Tommy’s got when he was planning something big.

“I actually know how to pull out Ada.” Pol choked on her tea, giving a very undignified snort that made her youngest niece beam.

Ada rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Accidents happen.” Y/N’s smile grew wider, her eyes scrunching with its size.

“Speaking of, where is your little accident?” Her chair clattered to the floor as Ada shot up and dashed to her little sister. Anticipating this, Y/N darted away at the last second. She bounced on her toes like she was contemplating some big decision and, flipped off her sister.

——————

One of the few freedoms that Y/N was given in her adulthood was her own apartment, though until recently, she had not spent much time there, favouring the family home on Watery Lane. But whenever she was at her own place, there was the tiny little condition that her siblings and her aunt each had their own key, for emergencies as John and Arthur claimed. Yet they respected their sister enough not to make use of these keys, until today that is.

Tommy shuffled up to the front door, hat low on his head as the freezing rain pelted him. It had been a stupid idea, a walk to calm the storm in his mind as black clouds descended over Birmingham. So he found himself here, at the door of his youngest and arguably favourite sister.

He jammed his finger into the doorbell, distantly hearing it ring from the partially open window above him. Yet, there was no movement inside. Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder, it was at least another hour to walk back to the Garrison, there was no way he was going home to face Pol without at least one drink. The cold metal of his keys stung his palm as he fished them from his pocket; Y/N wouldn’t mind the intrusion, in fact she’d probably feed him before sending him on his way.

His cheeks burned with the change in temperature as he stepped into the hallway. A heavy thump and then a loud groan of pain came from somewhere above his head. “Y/N?” He called out, but received no reply.

Tommy didn’t even bother to hang up his coat, taking the stairs two at a time he reached the landing in no time and with no hesitation, he threw open the front door, hand on the butt of his gun, fully prepared to deal with whatever situation his little sister had been thrust into.

But maybe not this.

His sweet baby sister was kneeling on the floor, stark naked, her back facing him (thankfully) with an equally naked man laying between her legs, hands on her hips and an obviously broken couch behind them.

“Tommy!” She yelped, her arms darting up to cover her chest as he instinctively spun around and faced the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s raining. Who’s the man?” A deep chuckle soaked into the wallpaper, its familiarity almost mocking the gangster as his mood turned even more sour than it had been only minutes before. A soft slap followed, then the man’s heavy footsteps vanished into the bedroom.

“No one Tommy, just a boyfriend. You can turn around.” A greatly oversized men’s shirt concealed her body, the horrified expression on her face almost tugged at his heart strings, almost.

Tommy glared at her. “A boyfriend?” His words came out as more of a growl, his anger mounting. It was one thing for Y/N to have picked up a boy from the Garrison or at the market, as much as he hated the thought of anyone even looking at her, but to have hidden a boyfriend from the family? From him?

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her older brother. “Yes. A boyfriend. You know, like most girls my age have.”

“Not without my permission.” Her gaze hardened.

“I’m a grown woman Thomas.”

“Not when you keep secrets from me.”

“Now that’s rich coming from you.” She scoffed. Tommy’s eye twitched. “I think more than half of the things you have said to me my entire life have been you lying to keep some secret or another. Why am I not allowed to have some of my own?” Her arms crossed over her chest, unwavering in her determination.

Tommy reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it. “That was business.”

Y/N opened her mouth to undoubtedly hit back at him with something clever that he would blame Polly for but before even a single sound had passed her lips, another voice rumbled through the small apartment, making his blood freeze.

“Well it’s a damn good thing this was a business meetin, wasn’t it darling?” And suddenly, in his little sister’s living room, wearing only trousers and with a cigarette hanging from his lips, was Alfie Solomons.

Tommy’s head whipped over to Y/N who now had her head in her hands. “Him?” Was all he could manage around the bubbling anger building in his throat. Alfie laughed and as if to add insult to the injury, wrapped a large arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. She refused to look at her brother, fixing her eyes firmly to the floor like she used to do when caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Alfie was practically beaming, gloating. “She’s done a very good job at keeping me secret from you. Even got me to hide in a fucking supply cubbord once.” A vein in Tommy’s head throbbed as he laid a palm over the butt of his gun.. “But ey, you must be proud, passing on those strong genes. She’ll be runnin circles around you in no time.”

“Alfie, I will fucking kill you.” She pleaded.

“It’s in the blood ain’t it? Can’t even imagine how sneaky our kids are gonna be considering our tendency to tell a little fib.”

“I’ll castrate you before that ever happens.” Tommy growled and finally pulled his gun clear of the holster but Alfie didn’t even flinch. In fact the man’s eyes sparkled with vindication.

“See, all in the blood.”

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i-try-to-write-stuff · 11 months ago

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Stolen Wife - 2

Synopsis – Tommy Shelby is married to Grace, but he becomes obsessed with Y/N, wife of Reuben Fitch, Tommy’s business partner in the U.S. who is unaware of his actual “business”

This blog supports Palestine. Zionists are not welcome here.

You were both nervous and excited, when the nice lady invited you and Rueben, you could sense his hesitation, and you were ready to make an excuse to get out of it but when her son tugged on Rueben’s slacks and asked Rueben to come see and meet his friends, you could sense Rueben’s resolve melting a little. You smiled, seeing your big soft teddy bear of a husband accepting the invitation of little Charlie Shelby.

Rueben looked at you with questioning eyes, you smiled and nodded. Rueben promised that cute little boy that he would definitely come to meet him and his friends at the ball.

Your husband was an introvert and so were you, but he had the courage to ask you out after two months of fleeting glances in the local coffee shop you both frequented. You were pretty sure Rueben timed his breaks to come to see you during those two months just like you used to wait for him for a chance to see charming and handsome devil you now proudly called your husband. Destiny is weird but for you, Rueben was your destiny, and you were his…

His club business had brought him to the U.K., Birmingham specifically, but you had cousins in London, so you decided to tag along with your husband and visit them and then join your husband in Birmingham. It was a nice change of pace; both of your professional lives were hectic and so this mini vacation of sorts came at the right time.

Your husband is ex-Navy, and he does not trust many people around him or even his business anyone but his squad, and they even adopted you into their little family, something you are eternally grateful for. You asked your husband if his squad could join both of you after a weekend together in Birmingham and your husband agreed with no qualms, little did you know, half of his squad was already planning on joining both of you on this elusive business trip. Rueben always has backup, he never wanted to be involved directly but Tommy Shelby insisted on joining him at his mansion, Arrow House, as his guest but Rueben refused, you can never trust anyone in this business especially the new partners.

Half of Rueben’s squad had already landed in the U.K., prior to his visit to the King of Birmingham, and the other half was back at home. Rueben made sure to book the suite under a fake name, nothing that could be traced back to him or you…

Rueben picked you up from the train station, he loved your quirks, how you hated public spaces like clubs but loved trains, how you pretended to love coffee for him but in reality, you loved tea. How you always made sure to pack him lunch and always made him make dinner for both of you. Rueben never thought he could have a normal life, but meeting you made him believe he at least had to give it a shot, he dragged his feet for two months only to later succumb to his crush, infatuation, his desire to see you daily whatever you can call it. You were his world and he was yours…Your relationship was something true, something solid, something filled with love and determination, something only few people ever find in their life and you were the lucky ones.

At the ball –

Your gracious husband bought you a cool purple gown because he wanted to make you feel like a queen, his queen…Who would’ve thought for once in your lifetime you and your husband would love dressing up? Both of you were giggling like teenagers and acting like royalty.

Just like you assumed the ball was extravagant, more extravagant than anything you had ever seen before. You looked at the wastage of money, these assholes can easily donate money, but they need these stupid ass-kissing events to donate to children in need…

You held on to your husband tightly, out of your element but still giddy about dressing up with your king bear. Just like you, your husband did not leave you alone even while mingling with the people he knew…

“Good evening, Mr. Fitch, I did not expect to see you here…” Tommy commented in his Brummie accent as he joined your group of people, and they left both of you alone with this new person.

“Hello, Mr. Shelby…” Rueben greeted, and you could sense Rueben’s unease.

“I was convinced to join your charity ball by a very insistent Charlie Shelby, whom I couldn’t disappoint.” Rueben replied, you may have missed the implication, but Tommy didn’t, just like Charlie, you were not involved.

“And you must be Mrs. Fitch” Tommy turned towards you, his eyes consuming you.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” you say meekly as you extend your right hand to shake Tommy’s, but Tommy Shelby had something else in his mind, he brings your hand close to his eager lips, kissing the back of your hand much to your shock. You look at your husband clearly annoyed just like you. You feel a chill running down your spine. You take back your hand quickly, trying to escape this man. You lean on your husband to send him a clear signal and your loving husband grabs you by the waist and tugs you towards him, in his embrace… Rueben kisses the top your head to calm you down meanwhile Tommy Shelby watches the interaction enviously. Rueben is fuming with anger, but he is smart, he knows Tommy has his eye on you, something Rueben had been trying to avoid from the start. There is a tense atmosphere around the three of you, thankfully Grace joins in unaware of the charged scene and asks Tommy to mingle with other guests, Thomas Shelby leaves reluctantly with his wife while you plead with your husband to take you back to your hotel, not wanting to endure the steely blue-stare of the devil.

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queenoftheworldisdead · 1 month ago

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Legitimate

Chapter 3

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used. Let me know if i fucked up and not do that. Chat me up i don't bite! Thank you

Summary: Tommy’s thirst for power leads him overseas to the States, where he's after more than just business. What starts as a strategic move soon becomes something far more complex.

Warning: Adult content only! 18+ only please. Dark! There is potentially triggering stories ahead. Dark Slow Burn

Dark Tommy Shelby x Reader

🚬

You straighten your portfolio folders for the tenth time, aligning them beside the charcuterie board—a meticulous arrangement of fine cheeses, smoked meats, and glistening slices of ripe fruit, each piece placed with almost obsessive care. The faint aroma of freshly baked cookies drifts from the kitchen, weaving through the clean, crisp scent of furniture polish. Golden light filters through sheer curtains, softening the sharp edges of the room and glinting off the polished glass coffee table.

You pause for a moment, glancing over the living area and wonder if anyone ever truly notices these small touches—the invisible effort that turns a house into a dream.

A faint knock pulls your attention to the entryway, the sound reverberating through the stillness. You glance at your watch—it’s early for the showing, but perhaps that’s a good sign. Eagerness often signals serious intent to buy, or so you hope.

You had tried to dissuade the sellers from an open house. In your experience, they rarely resulted in a sale—but they insisted, and you complied.

Crossing the room, you weave through the staged perfection, smoothing your expression into a practiced smile. As you reach the door and pull it open a faint familiar scent of cigarettes drifts toward you, catching your nose just before the figure steps into view.

“Good afternoon,” Tommy begins smoothly, his accent peeking out just slightly. You feel your smile waver, but you hold it steady, refusing to let it falter.

Since the unexpected gift appeared at your door, you hadn’t stopped working with him. He never mentioned it, and you made sure not to either. No thanks, no questions about how he found your address or why he sent it. You simply pretended it never happened, reminding yourself this was strictly business—nothing more.

“Hello, Tommy,” you greet him, your voice a touch stiffer than intended. The question nags at the edge of your thoughts—how did he know about the open house? But, like the wine and flowers, you push it aside. Better to let it go. “I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you passed on this listing when I showed it to you a few days ago.”

His gaze shifts past you, sharp and detached, the faint tang of cigarettes trailing him like a signature. It clings to the air, a phantom of habits you’d come to associate with him. He always had one—always—perched between his fingers or tucked at the corner of his mouth. You’d lost count of how many times you’d told him to put it out, your voice firm, surprisingly he always complied. But now, with his hands empty and his mouth free, he looked odd.

"I think I might have spoken in haste," he says casually, brushing past you with a renewed focus on the staircase. "I wasn’t sold on it before, but I’ve had a few days to sleep on it."

He pauses, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Besides, I can’t afford to waste time. I need to lock something down—sooner rather than later.”

You nod silently, hesitating for a moment, debating whether to follow him. But you stay put, watching as he ascends the stairs with an unhurried pace. At the top, he stops and glances back, those icy blue eyes sweeping over you and the room below, like a king surveying his kingdom.

🚬

The large home is a buzzes of life as more prospective buyers arrive. Smiling, you greet each one with polished charm, answering the same questions over and over with practiced enthusiasm.

They’re all the same—polite, curious, but ultimately deterred by the one thing you can’t control, the price. The house is beautiful, the location ideal, yet the price remains the death knell, reverberating through every conversation.

“Um, are the previous owners smokers?” a blonde woman asks, cutting through your rehearsed routine. Her question catches you off guard, and you blink.

“Oh, no,” you reply, a nervous chuckle slipping out as you steady your smile. “Why do you ask?”

“I smelled smoke when I went to check out the upstairs,” she whispers, leaning in far too close. Her hairspray mingles with scent of her perfume.

Your eyes instinctively scan the crowd, searching for Tommy. Of course, it had to be him.

“That’s odd,” you say, keeping your tone light. “Maybe someone stepped outside for a cigarette earlier, and the scent drifted back in.”

“I don’t think so. It was so strong I had to get away from it. I can’t even smell it down here,” she insists.

“Well, that’s not good,” you concede with a polite smile. “I’ll go check it out.”

You don’t wait for her response. Weaving through the crowd in the hallway, you ascend the stairs with measured steps. Your grip tightens on the railing as you inhale deeply, searching for the faint trace of smoke still lingering in the air.

At the landing, you pause, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. You’re sure you look ridiculous, but you keep your movements subtle, flashing a tight smile when nearby buyers glance your way.

The scent pulls you toward the far end of the hallway. Every door stands wide open as you pass, people milling about inside or out, but the study remains closed. You pause outside it, the smell unmistakably stronger here. You already know what you’ll find inside, yet the dread of confrontation roots you in place.

🚬

The door creaks with your intrusion, its hinges groaning softly in protest. You snap it shut behind you, the soft click blending into the muted buzz of activity filtering up from below.

Tommy stands across from you, leaning against the desk, his face partially obscured by the curling tendrils of smoke rising from his cigarette as he speaks softly into his phone. His eyes flick to yours as you hesitate, unsure of what to do. Your gaze drifts to the cigarette between his fingers, irritation rising slowly, curling upward like the smoke, but you swallow it.

You’ve asked him countless times not to smoke in the house—he knows better. You’re sure of it.

You turn away, your eyes fixating on the window as you storm toward it, the sharp click of your heels echoing against the hardwood floor. Your hands move swiftly, flicking the locks open before gripping the heavy frame, straining as you push it. The window resists, the frame creaking under pressure, and you push harder, determined, the sound of your struggle almost drowning out his conversation.

It finally gives with a frustrating groan, and a cool breeze rushes in, cutting through the smoke with a welcome sharpness. Outside, children laugh and shout as they play in the yard next door, their mother watching from the porch. The scene stirs something faint and unwelcome—a memory of what you once thought you wanted but could never quite hold on to.

As you stare out the window, his reflection catches your eye, making you gasp. At some point, his phone disappeared, the call ended. You hadn’t noticed him approach, sly and silent as a fox stalking unseen.

“Um, I don’t think the sellers would appreciate that,” you say, nodding toward the cigarette in his hand.

He exhales slowly, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. You wave the air in front of your face, trying to push it away.

“You didn’t tell me not to,” he replies coolly, his gaze steady and unreadable.

“Well,” you say, your voice quieter, “it wouldn’t matter to me if you smoke here—if you were buying it.”

He takes another slow drag, his silence stretching just long enough to make you uncomfortable. “I’m still thinking.”

You suppress a sigh. He’s been like this since the beginning, indecisive and inscrutable.

“You’re always thinking,” you say, a smart edge to your voice.

For a fraction of a second, his eyes flicker toward you, a slight tightening of his jaw that you almost miss, before he looks away, lost in the haze of smoke. “Some decisions need a little more clarity,” he says, his tone calm, almost dismissive.

Your lips press into a thin line. Your chest tightens with frustration, but you force yourself to nod. “I see… Well if that’s the case then I think we should end our business here.”

“You promised to find me a house.” He retorts.

“And as I’ve told you before Mr. Shelby-”

“Tommy,” he corrects a bit firmly.

“Mr. Shelby,” you reaffirm. “I can’t help you. I’ve tried. I’ve showed you house after house, but none have suited your taste.”

“So you’re just a quitter then?” Tommy asks, his brow cocked at you quizzically.

"I’m not a quitter," you reply with a sigh, your frustration seeping into your words. "I’ve done everything I can—rearranged my schedule, prioritized you over others, even passed on buyers who were likely more serious—all because you said you needed to buy a house immediately. But now… it’s starting to feel like you’re playing games with me, and I just don’t understand why."

"Still sounds like quitting," he challenges, his voice maddeningly calm.

You bite back the sharp response that rises to your lips, exhaling slowly. “If I knew what you wanted, maybe I could help you more. But as it is… I think it’s best you find another agent.”

He doesn’t react immediately, his gaze drifting to the cigarette in his hand. "Did you drink it yet?" he asks, his tone so casual it throws you off balance.

You hesitate, caught off guard by the sudden question. Why is he bringing this up now?

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He taps out his cigarette, a defiant grin playing at the corners of his lips. Your frown deepens as he taps the cigarette against the hardwood desk. The spot where it lands seems destined to leave a mark. "Though I thought we agreed to share a glass once we finally closed on a house. Guess I’ll have to send another bottle when you finally close the deal for me."

“What?” You blink, hesitating, your brow furrowing. “Are you saying you want to buy this house?”

“I wanted to confirm a few things first. But now? I’m confident in my decision.”

"This is great!" you exclaim, pulling out your phone to quickly text the seller. There’s something odd in his tone, but you push it aside, focusing on what matters: he seems serious about the house, which means commission and an end to these awkward interactions.

“I’ll let the sellers know and get the contract to you ASAP. I’ll send you an email, and once you e-sign, we can start the process. I’ll make sure you get the keys by the end of the day.”

“Slow your horses,” he says, his voice steady, almost amused. “I’m a bit old-fashioned. I want something physical, something I can hold and touch with my hands.”

His gaze lingers, dragging over you like a weight. There was something in his eyes—hunger, maybe. Lust.

“I-I can do that,” you manage, the awkward stammer betraying a calm you don’t feel. You shifted, dismissing the thought. You’d been wrong before, mortifyingly so. It was just him, you told yourself. Just his presence, how he was. “Where… do you want me to take it?”

He doesn’t answer right away, as though savoring your words. When he finally speaks, his tone feels deeper, and his eyes dim with an unfamiliar darkness you can’t place. “My office. I’ll text you the address.”

You stay back as he moves to leave, pausing only to pull a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it coolly, with his back turned to you. You don’t stop him—it’s his house now. When the door swings shut behind him, the air feels lighter, clearer. Yet the unease he leaves behind clings to you.

#Dark Tommy Shelby #dark Tommy Shelby x reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x Black Reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x WOC Reader

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zablife · 1 month ago

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This Has to Stop

John Shelby x wife reader

Summary: John's dangerous work is taking a toll on him and your marriage so you confront him, demanding he spend more time at home. Torn between his loyalty to you and his brothers, John lashes out in frustration and you must ask yourself if it's time to give up on the man you love.

A/N: This was inspired by a request originally sent to the lovely @runnning-outof-time. Ty for trusting me with it, K!

Warnings: mention of drinking, pregnancy

The shrill ring of the telephone cut sharply into the quiet of the evening, trilling above the giggles of the children. Their little heads popped up one by one at the sound, looking to see if you would rise from the table to answer it. You'd allowed John to install the contraption on one condition, calls would never interrupt family time. Now that seemed to be a long lost promise, considering how often he used it himself to tell you he'd be home late.

"Y/n?" John's voice rasped at the end of the line. The way he drew out the syllables with a slight slur indicated his exhaustion and the pints he'd drunk with Arthur to tamper the stress of working for Tommy.

However, your sympathy was being sapped away with your dwindling patience. Constantly left to care for the children and keep a home he hardly saw, you'd had enough. "Let me guess....don't wait up?" you rushed out in a huffed breath.

John cleared his throat and you could imagine him shifting his weight awkwardly where he stood in the betting shop. Guilt dripped from his voice as he admitted,"Yeah, Tommy needs me to..."

"Do what you like," you snapped, unwilling to hear tonight's excuse for missing dinner and bedtime. "You always do," you added bitterly, slamming the receiver down.

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

You didn't see your husband until the sky began turning a watery blue violet, the growing light seeping around the curtains and across your bleary eyes which hadn't closed all night. You tried to convince yourself it was the energetic child in your belly that kept you from your rest, but you knew it was more likely the absence of John's warm body by your side.

John tiptoed into the bedroom in stocking feet, giving a small gasp of surprise when he noticed you watching his stealthy movements.

"Good morning," you sighed softly, arm outstretched toward him.

Relieved to hear the anger in your voice had dissipated to its usual dulcet melody, John approached. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, his large hand came to rest over your swollen stomach. He was rewarded with a sharp kick that made him break out in the lopsided grin you'd fallen in love with long ago.

"We missed you," you offered as he returned to unbuttoning his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you," he admitted sadly, leaning in to kiss you with a tenderness that made you weepy.

John pulled away, hooking your chin with his finger to bring your gaze to his deep blue eyes. You'd nearly lost yourself in the comfort of his affection before he added softly, "Please don't cry. Things will get better."

Your brow furrowed at the empty promise you'd heard time and time again. "It will only be better once you stand up to your brother," you asserted.

His hand fell away from your face and a chill settled over you immediately. He clenched his fist at his side, frustration building in his chest as he whispered harshly, "Look, I don't have a choice."

You emitted a breathy note of disappointment as his posture grew rigid, jaw clenching tightly in profile.

He didn't even try to read your eyes, afraid to see the damage he was causing. Of course he knew his work was taking him away from you too often. It had become routine to slip out into the inky blackness as you snored softly, only to return to the same sight of crushing darkness. No light, no love to be felt, only the monotony of routine.

"You have a say in your own life," you reminded him. "Start by having a rest, hmm? What time is it anyway?" Your fingers deftly slipped into his pocket to retrieve his watch, a bit of paper falling out with it.

Even in the dim light, the stark contrast of the black star against the paper caught your eye. John reached for it at the same moment as you, but you'd already begun to read the ghastly instructions.

"What are you becoming?" you asked your husband.

"This is our business, we Shelbys," he reminded you, snatching the small note from your fingertips. As he spoke, your eyes drifted to his open shirt front and the scars splayed across his torso from a recent altercation in Chinatown.

"Turning you into Arthur, another mad dog to unleash on his enemies?," you argued.

John scrubbed a hand down his face, holding his temper with the children asleep on the other side of the thin wall.

However, as he rubbed his temples deep in thought, you could feel the tension growing, loyalties strained to the breaking point. He finally snapped, kicking the bedside table with a harsh thud.

Though it wasn't unusual for him to break things these days, your body jumped in surprise. You knew he could never hurt you or the children, but you were growing more concerned about his fraying nerves. Placing a hand to his shoulder to ground him, you felt the taut muscle beneath which held his burdens.

Despite your resentment of his predicament, your heart ached for your kind, loving husband. That was the man you attempted to coax out as you placed your cheek to his back. "You're a good man," you whispered reassuringly. "Don't let Tommy change that with his ambition and endless demands."

You felt him inhale a deep breath to quell the raging battle inside his head and you seized the moment to pull him into bed with you. Tugging at his shoulders lightly, you hummed soothingly to him as you gently commanded, "Lie down."

But to your dismay, he rebuffed you with a shake of his head. "I only came home to change...M sorry," he apologized quickly before standing to gather fresh clothes.

Staring at him in bewilderment, you rose from the bed to follow him about the room pleading, "You can't be serious! It's half five and you haven't slept or eaten."

John's hands trembled as he attempted to close a drawer, head hung low as he felt the effect of his sleep deprivation on his coordination. He couldn't allow you to glimpse weakness, however, resisting your soft embrace as he explained vaguely, "I have a duty."

"To family," you insisted, digging your nails into his forearm to stop him leaving.

"Yeah? Which family?" he returned so quickly he'd hardly realized the powerful meaning behind his words.

"I'll pretend you didn't just ask that," you mumbled numbly, face crumbling the moment he disappeared out the door.

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

The sun was still visible, if only a sliver above the roofline of the houses on Watery Lane, when John's boots came crashing down upon the cobblestones. Hurrying toward home, he gripped a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his fist, rehearsing an apology he knew was long overdue.

He was careful to remove his boots at the door and hang his hat and coat in their proper place for once instead of slinging them onto the floor haphazardly. He'd resolved to be a better husband to you, as well as a more present father.

You and the children deserved nothing less which is why he'd suddenly found the courage to disobey his brother. The black star remained etched in Tommy's diary. Perhaps Isaiah would be the one to dole out punishment in future, but it would never again be him. He'd made sure of it when he gathered his share from the company safe under Polly's watchful eye.

The plot of land and country house you'd always wanted was within his grasp and the idea of a peaceful life with you somewhere quiet flooded his mind. In fact, he was so preoccupied at the thought of you tending a garden and raising chickens, he hadn't noticed the missing items from the bedrooms.

However, as he searched each room, his heart began to claw at his throat. He quickly reasoned the house was too neat and tidy for there to have been foul play so there could only be one other explanation. His stomach dropped with deep foreboding settling into his gut just as the phone in the hall began to ring.

Startled back to reality by the harsh sound, he lifted the receiver to hear you greet him in a voice that seemed far too calm and removed. "If I'm reaching you then you know I've gone," you announced, trying to steady your voice against the emotion swelling in your chest. "You have a decision to make. Think carefully," you advised.

John didn't know what to say as he realized his worst fear had come true. The deafening silence of his empty home was quickly juxtaposed with the distant echo of children's voices in the background. He could only stand dumbly, listening to them babble away happily as a lump formed in his throat.

"Y/n, we have to talk about this," John urged, swallowing harshly as he realized the decision might not truly be his to make. "I told you things will be different and they will."

"No more empty promises, my love," you cautioned him with finality.

"Wait--" John cried out, afraid you'd hang up. "It's true, I've already made changes."

You bit your lip, willing the tears not to fall in front of your children. Staying firm you replied, "I hope so. I have to go."

"Tell me where you are and I'll come..." he began frantically before the line went dead. Throwing the phone against the wall, John slumped to the floor with his head in his hands. Then a sudden realization struck him, he'd heard Karl's voice as well.

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

As she opened the heavy front door, Ada's expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief. She hadn't expected her brother to come, yet here he was on her doorstep looking utterly disheveled.

He hadn't failed to notice the look of disappointment in her eye, feeling like a complete failure. "Please, I know she's here. Let me see my wife," John begged.

She moved aside the second she heard the desperation in her brother's voice, knowing he'd do the right thing. "She's in there," Ada pointed down the hall.

The approaching footsteps outside the parlor attracted your attention first as they didn't sound anything like the heels worn by Ada or the maids. Your eyes flicked to the doorknob as the handle slowly turned, the door swinging open slightly to reveal your panic-stricken husband.

He didn't speak as he captured you in his arms, breathing in your scent as his rough hand stroked over your hair and cheek. "Thought I'd lost you forever," he mumbled as he buried his head in your shoulder.

You relaxed against him, understanding this was his attempt at an apology. Pulling away to search his eyes, you found them glossy with unshed tears.

"Oh, John," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheeks with your hands. "Tell me what you've chosen."

"You, always you," he promised. Taking your hands in his, he stroked over the badly bitten nails and swollen cuticles. "Is this my doing? All the worry?" he asked with a pained look.

Your lower lip began to wobble as you admitted, "I count your heartbeats at night when you're lying next to me because I don't know if they'll be your last..." You could no longer speak, the sob in your voice drowning out any other words.

However, it was all your husband needed to hear, the affection you still held for him giving him hope. Tucking your hair behind your ear gently so he could gaze into your eyes, he made a new vow. "I'm taking you away from here for good. A life in the country...with the chickens you've always wanted," he professed. "If you'll still have me?"

John loved the way your eyes sparkled in that moment and you couldn't deny the dose of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you allowed yourself to consider his proposal. A flutter of kicks inside you made you aware you hadn't given John an answer. Releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding, you assured him, "Of course...that's all I've ever wanted."

A wide grin overtook his face at that moment, eager to tell you more about his plan for a new life and hear your ideas in return. "By the time the baby's born, we'll be settled," he told you, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

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

John's promise was finally fulfilled and in the spring, you stood together on a wide expanse of land. Looking out over your kingdom, your newest addition gurgled from the safety of John's protective arms.

"I think she likes it here," he told you as his youngest daughter grasped his pinky. He hadn't left her side since the day she was born, present for every milestone.

You surveyed the children running barefoot through the garden, your warm gaze finally resting upon your husband in serene repose. As a satisfied smile graced your lips, you agreed, "We all do. Oh John, we did it!"

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996

@pietroxreader

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@mischievouslittlecreature

@look-at-the-soul

@darklydeliciousdesires

@murderousginger

@an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #John Shelby fanfic #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x Y/n #John Shelby

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slut4thebroken · 1 year ago

Text

Cillian Murphy & Characters Masterlist

Smut - ❤️

Fluff - ✨

Angst - 🖤

Dark content - ❗️ (noncon elements)

Kinktober - 🕸️

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

main masterlist

𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅:

༺˚ʚ Cillian Murphy ɞ˚༻

Stepdad!Cillian x cheerleader!reader ❤️

Stress relief ❤️

༺˚ʚ Emmett ɞ˚༻

Second Chances ❤️❗️

Ultimatum ❤️❗️

Risky ❤️🕸️

Emmett x wife!reader “series” ↓

Home Improvements ❤️

The Recipe ❤️

༺˚ʚ Jackson Rippner ɞ˚༻

Partners ❤️

All Work, No Play ❤️❗️(ongoing)

Practice Makes Perfect ❤️

Stranger ❤️

The Bet ❗️🕸️

Mark The Day ❤️❗️🕸️

Reminisce ❤️❗️🕸️

༺˚ʚ Jonathan Crane ɞ˚༻

Exposure Therapy ❤️❗️🖤✨ (ongoing)

Favorite Toy ❤️✨ (sub!jon)

baby bat ❤️❗️(blurb)

Meant to Be ❤️❗️

Nymphomania ❤️

Dangerous Game ❤️

Doctor’s Orders ❤️❗️

The Incident ❤️❗️

Erotomania 🖤❤️ (ongoing)

Safe ❤️❗️

Teacher’s Pet ❤️❗️

Claiming Victory ❤️❗️🕸️

A Taste for Fear 🕸️

༺˚ʚ Neil Lewis ɞ˚༻

Stuck ❤️

Little Black Dress (pt. 1) ❤️❗️

Until Next Time (pt. 2) ❤️❗️

Just a Dream ❤️❗️

Tease ❤️

Bully stepbro!Neil pt. 1

Promise ❤️

Pool Party ❤️

Possessive!Neil x bsf!reader drabble

Vacation ❤️❗️

Stay ❤️❗️

Pathetic ❤️🕸️

༺˚ʚ Raymond Leon ɞ˚༻

Timekeeper Raymond Leon 🖤 (pt. 1)

Daddy’s Little Girl ❤️

Remember Your Place ❤️🕸️

༺˚ʚ Robert Capa ɞ˚༻

Trapped ❤️❗️

Hysterical ❤️❗️🕸️

༺˚ʚ Robert Fischer ɞ˚༻

Childhood Enemies Turned Lovers? ❤️ 🖤 ✨ (ongoing)

Name Your Price ❤️

Party Favor ❤️❗️

The Deal ❤️

tit for tat ❤️🕸️

Locktober ❤️🕸️

༺˚ʚ Thomas Shelby ɞ˚༻

Tommy’s Pet ❤️

Sweet Dreams ❤️❗️

Needs ❤️

Baby Fever ❤️🕸️

The Bet ❗️🕸️

Teddy Bear ❤️🕸️

Vulnerable ❤️🕸️

༺˚ʚ Other ɞ˚༻

Earn Your Prize ❤️ (choose your own character)

༺˚ʚ Head Cannons ɞ˚༻

Stalker!reader pt. 1

Stalker!reader pt. 2

Glory hole

Dad/stepdad finding your vibrator

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vervainandspritz · 7 days ago

Text

TASTE OF SHAME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part three

Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I'm absolutely the worst. Another part coming in shortly

A/N2: COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE!

Y/N woke up feeling different than usual. The deep sense of looking forward to something was exciting. Was.. new. Y/N knew it was perhaps one of Tommy's games and not a gesture of kindness in any way, but the idea of going shopping with Ada was nevertheless exciting.

She woke up early, got appropriately dressed, and secretly hoped she wouldn't see him this day at all. It was supposed to be about her. Just today.

Only a bit before eight she went downstairs, slowly looking around to find out whether Mr. Shelby was still home or not. The Arrow house was awfully quiet, like always when Charlie was still sleeping. He wasn't a loud child, but his precious giggles were warming up the overall cold and soulless building enough to breathe some life into it. He was making it sufferable to live in.

Y/N was quiet, mindful not to wake him up as she smiled at the staff, nodding kindly while passing by. Hearing voices from the living room, she made her way through the doorways only to see Ada along with her husband, Freddie.

”Good morning, Y/N” The older woman said with a smile as soon as she saw her. The questioning glance followed after the greeting which made her chuckle. Before she could say something, her man spoke up himself.

”He would never let the two of you go on your own. It was either me or John and Arthur, so trust me, Lady. It's a better choice as it is!” Freddie spoke with an amusing drama and thick Brummy accent, making his wife swat him in the shoulder jokingly.

”He's not wrong” She admitted, sighing, and glancing sideways at her husband.

Y/N nodded lightly, smiling at the genuine contact between the two of them. It was refreshing and.. comforting, to see a glimpse of real love in the hollow walls of the Arrow House.

”It's okay. I don't mind at all” She reassured, gratefully. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. ”I really appreciate the two of you taking me to the city. It's been... A while.”

Ada winked at Y/N before coming up closer and grasping her hands.

”Lovely then. I'd never say no to shopping with one of the ladies! It's the best time. Especially that we have a set of hands to carry our bags, indeed!”

They chuckled lightheartedly, walking to the corridor to put on their jackets along with the rest of proper clothing. Luckily, the day was nice enough to not need an umbrella.

”Let's get to it then” Y/N said as Freddie opened the door, gesturing for them to go first. Leaving the building, Y/N managed to spare one last glance towards the black, wooden door barely visible from the doorway. Mr. Shelby's office.

The day was going well. Genuinely, for the first time in a long time she could honestly say it. Laughing out the tension which has been slowly gathering on her mind felt wonderful and the company of Ada and Freddie just reminded her how much she missed the careless giggles and fast heartbeat she used to feel back then.

Back when she wasn't someone's belonging. A selfish whim.

Buying all the gear was fun, trying it on and posing even more. Especially once they were done, and Ada suggested buying more clothes.

”We shouldn't,” Y/N said quietly, grabbing Ada's forearm lightly. The older woman rolled her eyes, narrowing them.

”Come on, Y/N. We're spending his money. The least he can do is pay for us!” She let out a laugh which held the mischievous hint, one she shared with all of their brothers. No matter how similar or different Shelby siblings were, they all had it.

She thought for a moment, feeling the unpleasant worry again. Her feelings were raw and visible in her eyes, fully on display as always.

”I don't know,” She said, quietly, stopping in her tracks. Ada picked up on the way her voice broke just a little bit. Moving closer she grasped her shoulders.

”I mean it. Plus, he literally GAVE me money to pay for our stuff.” She was convinced. ”Tommy is my brother, Y/N. He knows me well enough to know better than assuming I'd buy just the necessities.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, searching in her gaze for the truthfulness to sooth her own anxiety. Looking in Ada's blood irises, she found it. But she wasn't sure just yet. ”...and Thomas loves everything about horses ever since he was a little boy. He's well aware of how much the gear would cost, honey. Yet he gave us way more.” This time her voice carried less humour, wanting to give her the comfort she needed along with reassurance.

Finally, Y/N nodded slowly, looking around and noticing that Freddie gave them some space to talk, stepping aside to smoke a cigarette yet paying attention enough to keep them safe.

Her gaze danced along the shops with bright and bold letters above the entrances, designed to encourage wealthy women to come in and spend their money. Eventually she met her friend's blue eyes again.

”Okay” She agreed, letting out a chuckle as Ada clapped happily before grabbing her hand and pulling them towards the luxury shop.

”Here we come!” She squealed and Freddie just shook his head with amusement, following them closely.

It took about half an hour to get her going. At first it was the Shelby sister who twirled between the alleys in the fairly big shop, touching and gasping over the beautiful creations. All kinds of materials, hundreds of breathtaking colours with even more breathtaking cash tags attached to them made Y/N feel uneasy, but with time... Ada's enthusiasm infected her too.

So they both giggled like young girls, trying dresses on, making funny gestures and blushing furiously as they saw themselves in the big mirror. So unused to such a luxury, Y/N's eyes shone brightly when she saw the girl in her own reflection. So different from the one she used to see a couple long months ago.

”We're absolutely getting this one,” Ada said suddenly, ripping her out of the train of thoughts. Slowly gazing over the creation, Y/N let out a sigh, picking on the cuticles of her fingers. Looking down she swayed lightly, biting her lower lip, but before she managed to speak up, Freddie joined his wife.

”I must agree,” He said, keeping his expression serious before Ada elbowed him in the side lightly. ”You look like a real high class lady now,” He added, less formally with a small smirk, grasping Ada's hand.

Y/N blushed, so unused to any kind of male attention.

”Thank you. I hope he won't be mad.” The other part of the sentence was said quieter, almost to herself, but unfortunately all of them heard.

Plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she went back to change before they checked out, and got on the way as it was already fairly late. Clouds thinned one the sky, letting everyone see the glimpses of sunset kissing the horizon in a manner so dreamy, Y/N couldn’t help the little smile on her lips as she watched the whole scene through the window. Shopping took a bit longer than expected, as Ada planned out the whole day, making them visit all the ladies' favourites in the city centre. After coffee and sweet souvenirs from the local bakery, they took a walk around the better part of Birmingham before heading back. Around fifteen minutes it took, before Freddie was parking the car on the gravelly driveway. Sighing, Y/N looked down at her hands, knowing the great day was pretty much over now that she was here. Slowly, she moved to get out of the car, grabbing a few of the bags as Ada and her husband did the same.

The Shelby sister noticed the shift in the air as she moved closer to Y/N rubbing her shoulder with a half smile.

“It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? We need to do it again soon.” She said, before dramatically lowering her tone. “Next time definitely just us, without any of them,” She gestured towards Freddie with a chuckle, taking the edge off a bit as the tension loosened.

Y/N nodded, agreeing immediately as she loved the idea of having a way out every now and then. Wordlessly they walked up the stairs, greeting one of the maids after making the entrance. She took Y/N’s coat, hanging it for her once she realized Mr. and Mrs. Thorne weren’t staying.

“Once again, thank you for the outing. I’m looking forward to the next time,” The younger woman said with a genuine honesty in her voice, revealing how much it actually meant to her.

“Anytime,” Freddie responded, winking as he grasped Ada’s hand once she hugged Y/N.

“Of course.” She added, turning around as they started walking away before stopping once again, “Oh, and tell Tommy you’re home already, will you?” And with that, they were gone.

Y/N considered seeking out Tommy right then, but she was tired from the outing and wanted to change into a more comfortable dress to lounge at home. Once in her room, she was increasingly tempted by her soft inviting bed. As soon as she settled in her soft sheets all her new things still in the shopping bags became distant memories, just like the thought of making her way to Mr. Shelby’s office. Exhaustion overtook her tired mind and before she knew it, she fell asleep.

Hours passed, and on the other side of the house, Thomas was sitting by his desk. A half empty glass of whiskey stood to his left, as he slowly sipped on it with no rush. He lost count of all the paperwork he’d done today and the end was still nowhere to be seen. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes which became tired from all the reading and writing.

Suddenly the silence of the room got interrupted by quiet footsteps right by the door. Tommy glanced at the clock, realizing how late it already was. Without knocking the door knob turned as the wooden door gave way to a familiar silhouette.

Y/N rubbed her eyes, as she walked in. Her feet bare against the cold floor which wasn’t too pleasant, yet useful in a way to keep her awake.

He watched wordlessly, after putting his glasses back on. As she slowly moved from the doorway towards his desk, eventually slumping into the armchair. She avoided his eyes, feeling guilty with the unintentional disobedience.

So the silence stretched into longer seconds as she picked on the hem of her dress.

“Had fun?” His voice cut the air eventually, seeing how she struggled with finding anything to say. It was hoarse from the lack of talking for many hours, even lower than usual which she found intimidating.

But on the other hand, was there anything about him which wasn’t intimidating to her? The answer was obvious.

“I’m sorry I didn't come right away. We were late, and.. And I was tired. Before I realized it, I was sleeping.” She said quieter, feeling as she was walking on thin ice that might break at any given moment, pulling her into the freezing, cold water. The stillness that never ceased to surround him was terrifying at times. To her, Thomas Shelby was a complete mystery. His way of carrying himself reminded her of a volcano, so still and quiet just to blow up with a never ending stream of force. So the silence was… chaos really. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby”

Her voice, so quiet and submissive, danced around his mind. Mixing with the whiskey he drank, twisting and moving in different directions and causing the weird stirring he felt. Something that started becoming familiar, dangerously enough. His lips stretched into a small grimace, not quite enough to become a proper smile. Another thing that made him, him. All the small things she learned to become aware of, cautious and deliberate while slowly walking between the mines in his head. The boundaries that were constantly in motion for any kind of comfort, making it impossible to learn their placement. So she walked through the dark.

“I asked if you had fun, Dove,”

His voice came out soft, at least softer than expected which almost made her gasp in a way. Her eyes flickered up, meeting his cold gaze. His eyes never seemed to lose the ice, but every now and then the blizzard seemed more gentle. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide, moving around his features.

“Yes, it was a.. A great day.”

He leaned forward, moving a bit closer with a sigh.

“It makes me sad that you don’t listen, Dove.” He started off, making her feel bad. “But I'm willing to forgive you, yeah? You didn’t mean to be bad after all.” His voice was soothing, smooth like butter, to which she nodded eagerly, also leaning forward, subconsciously wanting to please him.

“Yes, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,”

The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“I know you are,” He sighed, letting his gaze drop onto her body. Slowly moving lower till the desk blocked his view on the rest. “You will start coming to my office again. Spending time with Mr. Shelby,” The words would suggest it was a suggestion, but his voice absolutely proved to her it wasn’t one. He told her what would be happening from now on, and she had to listen. Y/N remained quiet for a bit before clearing her throat.

“Okay” She mumbled in her typical manner. His gaze was making her feel almost naked despite the appropriate clothing she wore. Instinctively she covered herself a bit more, almost making him groan.

The little things she was doing. The pink blush dusting her cheeks as she squeezed her thighs together, along with the innocent body language caused the familiar stirring in his core again. Thomas sighed, feeling as his manhood grew in his briefs and skin became hot. Breathing a little deeper, he leaned back.

Tension in the room thickened as the shame coated her mind at the way he looked at her.

Getting up abruptly, she moved behind the armchair.

“I will.. Go to sleep. I’ll come to your office tomorrow, I promise.” Y/N stuttered out as she started walking back towards the door. Thomas tilted his head up, watching as her hips swayed as she walked. Letting out a deep breath he nodded, tutting.

“Y/N” He stopped her in a raspy voice, but she didn’t turn around to meet his gaze. “Don’t forget to take your bags from the living room,” Thomas added, picking up the still lit cigarette, as he threw it into the fireplace. She just nodded, twisting the doorknob as she left.

Thomas stared at the dark wood of the door, as his fingers wrapped around the soft material in his pocket. Soft, pink lace.

He could say a lot about Y/N, but he had to admit she had a good taste in the lingerie she bought.

@mrsnms @randomcreator-09 @omgsuperstarg @hatethis29 @usaguisenpaisblog @priyajoyy @vanessyyyu @hottestgirlintheworld @iilovedonnatartt @hagarsays

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut

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