#Tommy Shelby

[storiesforallfandoms]

extreme jealousy ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 2075

request?: no

description: in which she’s finally had enough of thomas shelby when he supposedly kills the man she’s been having a fling with

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Tommy was in his study when he heard the sound of his front door slamming shut. He knew exactly who it was. He had left the door unlocked for her, anticipating her appearance.

When she appeared in the doorway, her jaw was clenched and one of her hands was balled into a fist. Tommy simply glanced up from his paper work at her. “Hello, (Y/N).”

“You absolute fucking prick,” she sneered. “You fucking killed Alfie?!”

Tommy sighed, as if (Y/N)’s outburst was an inconvenience to him. “(Y/N) - ”

“No!” she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit you have cooked up to tell me to try and justify what you did.”

If she was pissed off upon her arrival, then (Y/N) became furious when Tommy took off his glasses and placed them on his desk, then stood and calmly walked to his assortment of liquor. He picked up two glasses, without asking (Y/N) if she wanted one. He knew she’d just continue to throw profanities at him anyways. He dropped two ice cubes each into the glasses and poured them a glass of whiskey each.

Tommy didn’t have to ask how she found out about Alfie so quickly, because he had sent someone to tell her. The moment he knew he would have to kill Alfie, he called for Johnny Dogs to come with him. Johnny was confused at first, thinking Tommy was requesting backup for his meeting. However, when they arrived, Tommy explained he wanted Johnny to witness what was happening, and once it was finished, he wanted Johnny to go tell (Y/N) what had happened.

The news would’ve gotten to her either way, he knew. The smallest kindness he could give her was to make sure she knew right away, and that she knew the truth.

Mostly the truth.

When he offered her the glass, Tommy didn’t expect her to simply take it. He figured she would’ve hurtled the liquor at him, the glass too. He didn’t expect the offering to go well. To his surprise, however, (Y/N) looked at him for a long time before snatching the glass from his hand. She downed the contents in one gulp before handing the glass back to Tommy. Despite his amusement, Tommy knew better than to smile or chuckle.

“Alfie betrayed us,” he explained, as he handed (Y/N) his own glass and went to pour more whiskey into the empty glass for himself. “He gave Changretta information that led to Arthur almost getting murdered. You know I could not let the betrayal go, but especially not when my family’s life is on the line.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “You put your own family’s lives on the line all the time.”

“I never make them do something that could kill them. I calculate very move - ”

“Oh, bullshit,” (Y/N) cut him off. “I’ve known you long enough, Tommy. You don’t calculate shit. You send anyone out into the line of fire, and you get lucky enough that no one gets killed.”

There was a tense silence. (Y/N) had a moment of realization about what she said. She let out a heavy sigh and uttered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Tommy simply took a sip of his drink. (Y/N) mirrored him, drinking this glass much slower than the last.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” she finally said. Her tone was a little more calm, but Tommy could still hear the anger.

“I had to prove a lesson.”

“You could’ve done that without fucking killing him, Tommy!”

“There’s no other way, (Y/N). If I just wounded him but let him live, it would put out a different message about me and about the Peaky Blinders. It would let everyone know that you can betray us and get away with it.”

(Y/N) was shaking her head. In the dim light of Tommy’s office, he could see tears welling up in her eyes. He had to look away from her so she didn’t see how much her upset was affecting him.

“It’s not just the betrayal,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I know it’s not. You were looking for any reason to get rid of Alfie since you found out about us.”

Tommy’s hand tightened around his glass.

It had been merely a month ago that Tommy had walked into Alfie Solomon’s office and found him with (Y/N) on his lap. Luckily, their clothes were still on and nothing indecent was happening. If he had shown up a few minutes later they probably would’ve been, but all he walked in on was the two of them making out. (Y/N) was quickly off Alfie’s lap and out the door after Tommy’s interruption, muttering something about seeing Tommy later. Alfie nonchalantly explained to Tommy that he and (Y/N) had been fucking around for a while now.

Even now, Alfie’s explanation made Tommy angry. “Fucking around”, not even “seeing each other”, which would’ve indicated that Alfie saw (Y/N) as more than just someone to call for a quick fuck. And Tommy thought she deserved more than that.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he told her.

“Bullshit!” (Y/N) snapped. “You need to have control over everyone in your life. You never liked Alfie, even though you two are exactly alike. So when you realized you were losing control over me because I was with Alfie, you wanted a reason to get rid of him! It’s not fucking fair, Tommy! You can’t keep controlling everyone just because you think you’re fucking God! We are all human beings, we are not your playthings!”

As she ranted, Tommy approached (Y/N). He grabbed hold of her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “(Y/N), Alfie isn’t dead!”

(Y/N) stopped talking abruptly. She furrowed her brows at him, as if she didn’t believe him. “But...Johnny Dogs came to my place. He said he was there, he said he saw you shoot Alfie in the eye. He said...he said you left him on the beach.”

Tommy sighed. He hadn’t planned on telling (Y/N) the truth, that he hadn’t actually killed Alfie. The more people who thought Alfie was actually dead, the better. Just like with their plan to fake Arthur’s death. But he couldn’t stand to have (Y/N) here yelling at him over Alfie’s fake death any longer. He thought he could convince her it was the right thing to do, but the more angry she was, the more he was afraid he was actually pushing her away.

“The shot missed,” he admitted. “It grazed Alfie’s cheek instead. After I sent Johnny Dogs to your place, I went back to check for myself. Alfie was still breathing, albeit he was bleeding out quickly. I made some calls, had some people go get him and patch him up so he wouldn’t die. And I sent a message to him to get the fuck out of Birmingham once he was fully recovered. I may have let him live, but he still betrayed us and my message still needed to be heard.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were searching Tommy’s face, trying to see if there was a hint of dishonesty. Finally, she asked, “Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck sakes, Tommy!” She broke away from him, her anger ignited again.

Now, Tommy was starting to get frustrated as well. He thought telling (Y/N) would mean she would drop the subject. That she would stop getting angry with him and they could move on from Alfie. So, he also snapped, “I don’t want you to see Alfie anymore!”

“Why?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

The whole room fell still. (Y/N) literally took a step back at Tommy’s outburst. He wanted desperately to take it back, but it was out there now. He turned away from her and went to filled his glass again, which had managed to go empty in the last few minutes.

(Y/N) finally broke the silence to say, “So...did you kill - try to kill Alfie...because you were jealous?”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the reason.”

“But...but Lizzie...”

Tommy sighed. Indeed, Lizzie.

The woman who was currently carrying his child. The woman who he held such a high regard for. The woman he had used when he was missing Grace a little and was heartbroken after seeing Alfie and (Y/N) together. A brief moment of vulnerability that resulted in a child.

“I intend to marry Lizzie,” Tommy admitted. “I have to. I respect her too much to let her give birth to a bastard child.”

“But you don’t love her.”

Tommy shook it head. “She doesn’t love me, either. We’ve both established that. We accidentally created a child together, and the right thing to do in this situation is to be married so that Lizzie isn’t a mother out of wedlock and the child isn’t a bastard.”

Tears were welling up in (Y/N)’s eyes again. “Well then, you’ve managed to break my heart twice in one day, Tommy.”

(Y/N) had turned and left his office before Tommy would comprehend what she had said. He was quick to put down his glass and race after her. She was taking quick strides to get to the door before he could reach her, but in the end Tommy was faster. He took hold of her shoulders again, stopping her in her tracks and turning her to face him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just let it go, Tommy.”

“No. (Y/N), what do you mean I broke your heart twice?”

She was crying now, unable to stop the flow of tears. She looked up into Tommy’s eyes and said, “The first time you broke my heart was when you sent Johnny Dogs to tell me you killed Alfie. The second time was when you told me you loved me and made me think I had a chance, before telling me you intend on marrying another woman.”

Tommy could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. There was no way (Y/N) was admitting to loving him back. It just seemed impossible. Moments ago she was screaming at him for killing the man she was seeing (”fucking around with”), and now she was telling him that he had broken her heart by telling her he intended on marrying Lizzie. It just seemed too good to be true.

“Can you let me go?” she asked, her voice small. “I don’t think I can be here with you anymore, Tommy.”

He didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. It was an impulsive decision. He couldn’t let her leave like this.

When she pulled away, he let her. He let go of her, even though it risked her running off. He wouldn’t force her to stay there if she didn’t want to, but he couldn’t let her leave thinking that she had no chance of being with him.

But she didn’t leave. Instead, all she said was, “Lizzie...”

“I can work something out with Lizzie,” he said. “Maybe not marriage, but something. It’s my child she’s carrying, she’s got personal connections to the Peaky Blinders. Even if I don’t marry her, I can still make sure she is protected and respected.”

“But you just said - ”

“(Y/N),” he cut her off. “If you want me, then you will have me. There will be no one else. All you have to do is say the word, and it’ll just be you.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. “Of course, Tommy.”

Tommy wasted no time in taking (Y/N) into his arms and kissing her again. This time, she leaned into him. She let him envelope her in his embrace and hold her completely to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close.

“I’m still a little mad at you for making me believe you shot Alfie,” she mumbled against his lips.

Tommy chuckled. “It’s part of the job, love. You’ll have to get used to it.”

“As long as you’re no the one getting shot in the face, then I think I can be okay with it.”

He kissed her again. He never wanted to stop kissing her.

[heeahheeya]

The King of Birmingham with glasses👓🔥

Thomas Shelby with glasses 🎀

[cillianmurphyfanatic]

Cillian Murphy, photographed by Vassilis Karidis for So It Goes Magazine Issue 3 Volume 1 (July 7, 2014) 

[SOME ARE BEHIND THE PHOTOSHOOT IMAGES]

[coryluvv]

ahhhaww i made these...💀💀💀💀

[ikinremu]

could you do neil with a breeding kink pretty please!!!

Hi anon, ofc I can, as always sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoy!! <3

“Shit, baby..” Neil groaned, his voice hoarse and strained with pleasure from the way your body accepted his every thrust. Ecstasy pumped through your entirety, bringing your thighs to tremble as they swung greedily around his pelvis.

Nothing but desperate moans fled your lips as he thrust deeper, his bare cock slick with your arousal as he slid back and forth inside the warmth of your cunt, “Fuck, Neil-“

He however let out a simple, amused chuckle at the way his name fell from your lips. There was no shame in the way his lips tugged up with pride as your teeth sunk harshly into your bottom lip. “I know, feels so good when I breed that little cunt, huh sweetheart?”

His words sent a chill bolting down your spine in a thrilling contrast to the way your skin burned with warmth. You nodded instinctively, feeling the head of his length reaching deeper inside of you with each smack of his hips against yours.

“So good..”

Neil dug his fingertips into your flesh as he moved against you, never able to feel you close enough despite being buried so snug inside the heat of your pussy.

“Look at this greedy fuckin’ pussy.” He cooed amidst heavy breaths, punctuating his words with a particularly satisfying thrust. “So desperate to be stuffed full, hm?”

You clenched around his cock, feeling the way he twitched between your walls, drowning in your own satisfied moans as you responded. “Yes, shit, yes-”

“God, you take my cock so good.” Neil moaned, words practically muffled by his own pleasure, “Think you were made for this sweetheart, made for me to fill you up..”

Your stomach fluttered frantically upon hearing his words, feeling the friction igniting between you as you moved in rhythm.

His tone grew more broken, parted by the pace of his breathing - practically panting as his speech sounded huskier each time he spoke. He was clearly losing himself just as much as you, his composure drained by the feeling of the heat between your thighs wrapped around his bare length.

“Fuck,” He uttered, blinking for a slightest second longer as his chest heaved, feeling you soak his cock as it thrust in and out of you, “Gonna cum inside you sweetheart, have my cum making a pretty mess on your thighs.”

As the sentence left his lips, you hadn’t the slightest doubt in him following through, desiring nothing more but to have you full of him. To see you full of him.

Nothing could make a prettier sight.

[special-agent-fiction]

The Cost of Silence

Full disclosure, I haven't written anything in literal years and I've never written for this fandom. And then this just...happened? I don't know what the plot is but I had to get it down.

The Cost of Silence - Thomas Shelby x Reader

For a man who bought silence with little thought to its cost, morally or financially, Thomas Shelby appeared increasingly concerned with how much it was going to cost him to hear your voice again.

Gifts had been arriving at Arrow House almost daily for a few weeks and each was met with the same disregard; a blank expression as you passed the newest Bentley parked on the drive, cold indifference to the clothes hanging in your wardrobe and an almost comical eyebrow quirk at an apparent sudden interest in art.

Today’s expensive gift was met with the same lack of interest as you closed the lid of the long red box that had become synonymous with a Shelby apology with a single finger and pushed it away from the pristine plate setting awaiting you in the dining room.

You cared little for the rows of diamonds that sat within the case. Cared less for the obvious displays of wealth that surrounded you. You were not born to be oblivious to the luxury that was your current life, years ago you would have ached for a mere glimpse inside the house you now resided in, but life in this increasingly gilded cage had numbed you.

You often longed to feel the soft notches of the table in Watery Lane as you ran your hand along the impressive mahogany piece you now ate at. Dreamt of the cobblestones under foot as you wandered the gravel driveway in twilight, longed for the ache of a day’s work in your bones.

Poverty was a strange thing to want, but with simplicity came an honesty that your life was currently lacking. You could not bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore, let alone share a smile.

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you decided to silence yourself; couldn’t remember what atrocity had been the final straw. If anything, it had happened gradually, your voice ignored in family meetings, opinions disregarded as plans were formed, and so you began to hold back, bite your tongue and fade into the background of the life he had carefully curated in this countryside pile.

You knew it was irritating him. The thought brought a rare smile to your lips as he huffed softly from the doorway behind you, watching as your fingers skimmed past the new first editions in the library and landed on a well-worn, market-stolen title that you had brought to Arrow House when it was still new to you.

Words were not something you were able to find solace in in your life before here, your days were too busy to have the time to curl up and appreciate a book. Recently though they were you only companion in this cold house. He had noticed of course, he always notices. A newer, softer chair appeared in the parlour, a glistening tea set waited for you, the fire was stoked more frequently, and yet you remained on the hard, deep-set windowsill that offered you a glimpse at the outside world when your eyes tired of the page. Obstinance felt almost exhilarating these days.

The gifts changed from generically expensive to a more tailored selection; a new saddle, your favourite flowers planted under the bedroom window. And still you denied him. You kept your voice a murmur when talking to the staff, only laughed when he was away and refused to elaborate when questioned by visiting family.

It was noticeable now to anyone who visited the house. Family quirked an eyebrow when you walked away from meetings, their eyes flitting between you and Thomas as you sat silently through dinner, a low chuckle at their leader’s frustration. Thomas was a man who always won a battle of wills, and he was losing spectacularly.

And then he piqued your curiosity.

The office door left ajar when he had an important telephone call. Papers for the foundation you’d long planned to set up. Ledgers left open on the coffee table.

As much as you knew about how to irritate him, he knew about you. The bastard.

You stopped yourself many times; forced your hand down when reaching for a pen to jot a note in the margins of a memo, stopped yourself from adjusting a purposefully wrong number. It took everything in you not to help with the business you’d helped birth.

And then came the storm.

Gunmetal clouds filled the sky, the birds quietened, and thunder rolled in the distance. The drizzle of morning rain had dampened the estate, the heaviness in the air muffling all sound of life. When the first crack of lightening hit just outside the stable block you were already inside trying to soothe the enormous stallion that was an expensive new addition to the block.

You’d anticipated his jitters, had spent most of the afternoon gently grooming him, humming softly as he calmed. You thought you’d pre-empted the worst of it but even you jumped at the proximity of the bolt. You barely had time to register the piercing whinny or notice the beginnings of a rear-up before one leather clad hand was on the bridle the other sweeping you behind Thomas before he reached out to calm the steed. Your breaths were laboured as the horse calmed, your eyes wide as you watched Thomas whisper softly to the animal, its chest rising and falling in time with your own as you calmed simultaneously, Thomas’ soothing voice washing over both of you. It wasn’t the first time a horse had reared on you and wouldn’t be the last, it wasn’t the animal that spooked you it was the speed at which Thomas appeared. How long had he been loitering in the shadows of the stable block? Had he watched you lavish love on the beast he had bought as part of his apology accumulation?

You reached out to rub gently at the neck of your almost-trampler, eyes avoiding Thomas as you mirrored his actions, managing a brief nod at his question on your wellbeing. But for the first time in a while it wasn’t defiance that silenced you.

Gifts and gestures gave way to peaceful companionship. Where he had previously watched from the shadows and tried to elicit a response with baiting, he now stepped forward and joined your silence.

You walked together never sharing a word, rode side-by-side without comment, sat opposite each other with only fireplace crackles filling your evenings. You watched his eyes crinkle slightly as his nieces and nephews ran circles around the ground, watched his tight breath as he fought to keep composure on the telephone, smiled behind your book as he endured another ticking off from Polly. The office door stayed open, the flowers under your window bloomed and you remembered what made you want to share this life in the first place.

Throughout your silence, your morning routine had gone unchanged. Breakfast was often the only meal you and Thomas shared; the plate settings always formal in this grand room, letters gently set on a silver tray next to you and a newspaper ironed and folded next to his. This room had seen many a silent war between you both as you rejected gift after gift, unsaid words hanging heavily between you both, the house always gloomy in anticipation of the clash.

Yet this morning there was sunshine washing the dark floors as you descended the staircase. You could see blue skies in every window and hear the gentle movements of the staff as they worked. You entered the dining room to a familiar sight; Thomas reclined slightly, newspaper in hand, breakfast untouched. Your eyes landed on your assigned seat, danced over the freshly cut bloom sat in a silver bud vase and the absence of any other bribe at your place.

The jolt of surprise would be worth it, you decided. You would allow him the win. Afterall, you needed to rectify those ledger mistakes.

You fingered the soft petals as his usual greeting reached you, eyed the smudge of dirt on his shoe-tip for confirmation and took a breath.

“Good morning.”

In the end, it cost him nothing to break your silence. And that was the point.

[remembering-angels]

Tommy before france or something i don't know

[cillmurphyslover]

I need to fuck him 😫

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Lizzie's birthday party does not exactly go according to plan.

Word Count: 5,443

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, body image issues, violence, sexual assault, sexual content, and references to past rape.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 12: The Ballad of Sorrowful Souls

Lucy rested her hands flat on the wood of the little vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Almost without her even noticing it, her hair had gotten longer. It was something that, looking back on things, she realized had happened gradually over the years. Letting it go a little longer between trims. Taking off less and less each time. Where the red locks had once only come down to her chin, they now rested a few inches below her collarbones. Brushing her shoulder blades in the back. 

Running her fingers through the fluffy curls, she pursed her lips. When did you get so bloody long? she asked the hair, to no answer.

Sighing, she picked up a few ornate pins, carefully gathering her hair up and sliding them into place, until her hair was entirely pinned up in an elaborate chignon at the base of her neck. Satisfied with her work, she adjusted the straps on her dress and checked her watch. Polly would be there to pick her up on her way to Arrow House for the party soon. Reflected in the mirror behind her, pale and lovely as always, Grace watched her.

“You look beautiful.”

She smiled at the ghost. “Thank you.”

“How are you doing?”

She looked over her shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Sleeping alright?”

“Yep.”

“Those bags under your eyes say otherwise.”

“Fuck. Are they really that obvious?” she turned, squinting at herself in the mirror, fumbling with her small collection of makeup. Grace came up behind her, peering over her shoulder. 

“Try this one,” she pointed to a little bottle. “Rub it in gently under your eyes.”

Lucy followed her instructions, letting Grace tilt her chin up to examine the results. The blonde nodded. “Good.”

Hiking her dress up, she began to slide an array of knives into the garter sheath at her thigh. Holding the last knife in her hand, she twirled it mindlessly between her fingers, examining the sharp edge. Without even thinking, she gripped the handle tightly and brought the blade to rest against the pale, freckled skin of her inner left wrist. She bit her lip. One little slice was all it would take. 

“You really want to join me that badly?” Grace’s voice startled her out of her trance. The blade pulled away from the skin to slide into the sheath with its sisters. “Not that I’d complain. But I think Tommy would be very upset with both of us.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, checking to make sure her gun was loaded and putting it in her bag.

“Lucy,” Grace’s voice was stern. “What is it?”

She ran her hand over her hair, then cursed quietly and did her best to rearrange it back into place. She should be happy. Her plan had succeeded, after all. Things between Lizzie and Tommy had seemed to have mostly smoothed over. Tommy…seemed happier. That was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? And yet it hurt, to now know that all that was needed was her absence to have made that possible. 

Maybe she really had become nothing more than a burden. Someone Tommy kept around out of pity and duty. Perhaps he’d gotten bored with her. He had practically begged her not to go when she had left Arrow House, but maybe over the time that she had been gone, he’d come to the realization that she was right. Things were better this way. Perhaps he was secretly relieved that she had left.

“You’re being silly,” Grace said. “Tommy loves you.”

Did he? Or was it all just a ploy to keep her close because she was useful? Or maybe he never really had. Maybe she’d been nothing but convenient, up until now. A warm place to shove his cock when he was bored. 

“I’m not so sure anymore, Grace.”

“Oh, love,” Grace drifted across the room to her, hands cradling hers. “Remember when you left? He was distraught. He begged you not to go,” she offered Lucy a small smile in an attempt at reassurance. “Who would’ve thought, hm? Thomas Shelby, begging,” she shook her head, blonde waves flying, hand cradling Lucy’s cheek. “Okay?”

Lucy let out a shaky breath and nodded. Grace’s cheek dimpled with her smile. “No crying, now, love. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Lucy let out a hiccupping little laugh and nodded. “‘Kay.”

Grace let her go so she could riffle through her jewelry box, putting on her earrings and rings. Her fingers hesitated over the large garnet necklace resting in the middle of the box, the one Tommy had gotten her to match Grace’s sapphire. Her brows furrowed, lips pressed together. Perhaps it would be too much to show up with a token of Tommy’s love hanging from her throat. And to Lizzie’s birthday party, no less. She let the lid of the jewelry box fall closed.

“Tommy will notice you’re not wearing it.”

“Maybe.”

Grace sighed, but apparently decided that it wasn’t worth it to argue with her. The sound of tires outside announced Polly's arrival, and she was quick to wrap her shawl around her shoulders and grab her bag. The jingle of the lead had Asher rising to his feet, tail wagging as she clipped it to his collar.

“C’mon, boy,” she said, pausing a moment at the door and turning to Grace. “You’ll be around, if I need you?”

Grace smiled. “Always am, love.”

Her heels clicked against the stairs, a quick wave offered to Charlie and Curly in the kitchen before she was making her way to Polly’s car.

“You’re bringing the dog?” Polly questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Mosley’s going to be there, I figured we could use all the backup we can get,” she explained, ushering Asher into the backseat before getting into the front beside Polly. “And Tommy said that the kids were asking about him. Figured they’d like having him visit.”

They pulled out onto the street, beginning the familiar route to Arrow House.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“It’s no problem,” Polly said. “Though I have to say, I was surprised to hear about this sudden change in living arrangements.”

“I’m sure that you were popping champagne when you heard the news.”

“Now why would I do that?”

She gave her a look. “Polly.”

“Just because you’re not my favorite person in the world doesn’t mean that I can’t acknowledge your usefulness to Tommy and the company.”

“I’m touched.” 

Polly glanced over at her. “And you make Tommy at least somewhat bearable to be around.”   

That pulled a tiny laugh out of her, shaking her head. Polly reached out a gloved hand, patting Lucy’s arm. 

“Maybe it’ll be good for you,” she offered, “to not be chained to him all hours of the day.”

Lucy’s knee bounced anxiously as she shook her head. “I’ve never fully understood any of you. The way you talk sometimes. About getting away, about being chained. I’ve never wanted to get away.”

“I think you might be the only one of us who’s never really tried to leave.” 

“I’ve never wanted to.”

Polly hummed, tilting her head to the side. “You’ve really never thought about it? Not even once? To go off, have a normal life?”

She shook her head. “What do I do, if I don’t do this?”

Polly tsked. “You and Tommy. Unable to pull away even for a simple holiday. You really are perfect for one another.” Lucy didn’t respond, just looked down at her hands, tugging her shawl tighter around herself. “How’s he been taking it?”

Lucy shrugged. “He seems fine.”

“Really? I heard from Ada that he showed up at her doorstep at two in the morning in the middle of an emotional meltdown.”

“He feels bad about the whole thing. But…” she shrugged. “He seems happy. From what I’ve seen.”

Polly shot her a funny look that she chose to ignore. 

“You’re angry with him.”

“What? No I’m not.”

Polly gave her a knowing look. Lucy ran a hand over her hair and cursed.

“I gotta stop fucking doing that,” she muttered, smoothing her hair back down.

“Your hair looks fine. Spill.”

“I’m not…angry with Tommy, Polly.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

She shook her head. Took a small pause. “I…I just couldn’t stand to be somewhere where I felt so…” she struggled to find the right word. “Unwanted,” she finally finished.

“How do you mean?”

“They made this…deal that has a direct effect on me and Tommy’s relationship and they…” she chewed on her bottom lip. “They didn’t even give me a fucking heads up about it. And Tommy agreed to it,” she shrugged. “He had to know what it would mean for us and he agreed to it anyway.”

“He didn’t fight for you.” 

Lucy shook her head.

“No, no. That’s not it,” she ran a hand over her hair again and shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe it is. We’ve been so busy lately. Sometimes I feel more like just a coworker than a lover.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

“He has enough that he’s dealing with right now. When this current business is done, we can worry about…whatever this all is.”

“You’re very good at that.”

“At what?”

“Pushing your feelings down to deal with the task at hand. It’s part of what makes you so good at what you do.” Polly cast her that motherly look of disapproval that she often saw her giving her nephews. “But even you can’t keep your emotions locked up forever, Lucy. They have to come out and be dealt with at some point.”

“I know.” She glanced back over at Polly. “Sorry. I don’t mean for any of you to be pulled into the middle of this.”

“It’s alright. I’d much rather deal with you and Tommy’s mess than Arthur and Linda’s.”

“Right. Talk about a fucking disaster.” 

Polly hummed in agreement.

They rode in relative silence after that, car bumping along the road. As soon as Arrow House came into view a small shudder went through Lucy.

“Fuck.”

Polly shot a glance at her. “Have you been back since you left?”

“No.”

The older woman made a sympathetic sound, patting her on the arm again. “Well, look alive. We’ve got a fascist to impress.”

“Ugh,” she made a gagging sound that made Polly snicker. “He makes my skin crawl.”

Polly parked the car and opened her door. “Come along.”

She leapt from her seat, opening the door to the back. “Come, Ash. Good boy,” she coaxed the dog from where he had been laying with his huge head on his paws. He jumped down to trot dutifully by her side, his lead clutched tight in her hand. Polly came around the other side of the car, giving Asher a few scratches behind the ear before linking her arm with Lucy’s. 

“Ready to face the music?”

She eyed a few ballerinas making their way towards the tent set up on the grass. “I can’t tell if you're being literal or not.”

Polly chuckled, tugging her along towards the entrance of the place that had once been her home. 

∗ ∗ ∗

The party was in full swing and Tommy and Lizzie were nowhere to be found. Guests were arriving, chattering, sipping on drinks, and nibbling on food. Lucy remained close to Polly, not in much mood to socialize and grateful for the Shelby matriarch’s willingness to take point on greeting and conversing with the guests. 

For a brief moment she caught sight of Michael and Gina, raising her glass towards them in greeting, earning a small nod of acknowledgment from Michael. Gina sneered. Fucking kid.

She tugged on Polly’s skirt to get her attention. “By the way,” she cleared her throat, keeping her voice to a low murmur. “Mosley fucked Lizzie.”

“What!?”

“Mhm. Told Tommy allllllll about it at a meeting they had to discuss Mosley’s invitation here. Apparently it was while she was a nightclub hostess. Years ago. Thought you should know. It might come up.”

“Jesus, alright,” Polly said. “You find out anything else useful about him in your research?”

“Just that he’s fucking most of his wife’s family.”

“Charming.”

“Yep,” she popped the p in the word for emphasis. Taking a sip from her glass, her eyes trained on the door where the guests were filtering in. She elbowed Polly. “That’s him. With the mustache.”

“He looks displeased.” “I don’t understand how he gets so many girls. He’s so…” she searched desperately for the right word, “slimy. And his mustache looks stupid.”

Polly laughed, choking on her drink as a result. The MP was looking around, scowling.  

“You should go greet him before he has an aneurysm,” Lucy suggested. Polly disappeared with a smirk, heading for Mosley. Sipping again from her glass, Lucy rose up onto her toes, eyes scanning the crowd for Tommy. She had left Asher with Frances, and she was suddenly greatly missing the comfort and security that having the dog by her side brought now that Mosley was here.

Moving briskly, she began to weave her way through the guests. She hadn’t cared to go interrupt Tommy and Lizzie where they were likely fucking in one of the many dark corners of the house, but now that Mosley had arrived and was already sulking at Tommy’s absence, she needed to find him soon or risk the MP’s wrath. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in a room with Mosley. 

“Miss. Winters!”

She froze, grinding her teeth. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered under her breath, plastering a smile on her face and turning around. “Mr. Mosley. So glad to see you.”

His eyes raked over her and she had to fight the desire to tug her red shawl tighter around herself. “You look lovely, as ever.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, could you please tell me, where is Thomas?”

“I believe he was dealing with the caterers. Something about some last minute problems, you know how these things can go.”

“I was hoping to be announced upon my arrival.”

“Apologies. If you’d like, I can take you to the study. Mr. Shelby had something he wanted to discuss with you privately. Before the performance, if possible.”

Mosley’s expression of displeasure remained. “Very well.”

“This way,” she inclined with her head, leading the way to Tommy’s office. She opened the door with her key and stepped aside to let Mosley in. “Is there anything I can get you?”

His eyes raked over her again. A hand suddenly shot out, tightly grasping a red curl that had fallen from her pins to rest against her cheek, stroking the lock and then tugging on it sharply. “Oh, I can think of many things, Miss. Winters.”

She had to resist the urge to lean over and vomit all over his expensive shoes.

“I’m afraid that I’m working tonight, Mr. Mosley.”

“Hm.” His hand slipped down, moving so quickly that she had no chance of stopping it. His cold fingers slid down her throat, around her shoulder, and promptly grasped her right breast, squeezing so hard that it hurt.

Lucy completely froze, heart leaping into her throat, too shocked at the sudden movement to do anything. 

Mosley grinned, eyes alight with sadistic glee. Just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go, smile remaining firmly in place. “Well, if you’re sure. Just Thomas, then, my dear. Quick as possible.”

She nodded, spun on her heel, and left the room, closing the door behind her. For a moment, she allowed her back to rest against the wood of the door, a sudden spasm of panic flooding her from head to toe. She took in deep, heaving breaths, thinking for a moment that she might actually vomit. Learning forward, she rested her hands on her thighs, forcing herself to breathe deeply, thankful that this hallway was hidden from the view of the guests in the dining and sitting rooms. Memories flashed behind her eyes, of hands on her in a dark alleyway, voices laughing and jeering as they pushed her down, a blade slicing through her skin, hands pulling at her hair. 

Lucy shook her head sharply to dislodge them. Instead, she tried to force her brain to focus on the feel of the wood against her back. The color of the rug beneath her feet. The sound of clinking glasses and muffled voices a few rooms over.

Her heartbeat was still more rapid than usual, hands trembling a little bit. Fuck. She hadn’t had an attack like that in a long time.  

On still somewhat unsteady legs, she began to make her way down the hall, going through her mental checklist of all the places Tommy and Lizzie could be. 

As if hearing her thoughts, she made out voices coming from a storage closet in the hall. Freezing, she hesitated, recognizing the familiar deep rumble of Tommy’s voice. Her fist raised to knock, but stopped. And even though she knew it was wrong, the fist uncurled, planting itself on the doorframe as she leaned closer to press her ear to the place where the door met the frame, listening. 

“--so that’s why you brought me in here. To lay your claim,” Lizzie was saying. 

“Yeah.” She could imagine the fond way Tommy probably smiled at her, eyebrow raising in a way that was both sheepish and cocky. 

“Well, it’s a start, I suppose.”

There was the rustle of movement. “He lays a fucking hand on you, he will be meat for Johnny Dogs.”

He need not specify who he was talking about. She already knew.

With a shudder, Lucy pulled back, unable to bear listening to anymore.

It was not that he was dedicated to protecting Lizzie that so wounded her. It was that, while he was fucking her and pledging his protection over her, Lucy was out here. The very man that Tommy had just promised to defend Lizzie from having just touched and spoken to her in a way that had triggered her to have a panic attack. 

She wasn’t even worth Tommy laying a fucking claim on, anymore.  

What would Tommy do, if he found out how Mosley had just touched her?

She already knew. The same thing he’d done when McCavern had leered at her: fucking nothing. 

He probably wouldn’t even care. It was clear he didn’t want her anymore, anyway. 

She took another step back from the door, intending to leave them be rather than ruin their happiness with her presence, when the door opened, and the pair stepped out hand in hand. Lizzie was smiling brightly while Tommy’s own lips were twitched upwards. When they saw her, they both froze, looking at her like two deer caught in headlights.

“Lucy,” Tommy said, smile falling and brow furrowing as he looked at her. For a moment, his eyes dropped to the middle of her chest, right below her collarbone, brows pinching together. She cleared her throat.

“You need to go to your office. Mosley’s there.”

“Are you alright?” Lizzie asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Hi, Lizzie. Happy birthday.” She hoped that her smile was convincing and not as shaky as it felt. From the way concern flickered in Lizzie’s eyes, she didn’t think that she succeeded. Tommy reached out a hand to her, and she flinched violently away from him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she gasped, breathing momentarily kicking back up a few notches. The idea of anyone’s hands on her right now made her feel faint with panic. A flicker of hurt and confusion passed across his face. 

“What happened?” his voice dropped an octave, ice blue eyes narrowing a fraction. 

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, gripping her shawl tighter around her like a lifeline. “Nothing.” She opened her eyes. Tommy was still staring at her, searching her face for clues as to what she wasn’t telling him. “Just. Please. Go now. He’s throwing a fucking hissy fit over you not being there to greet him when he arrived.”

Tommy’s expression turned guilty. He hesitated only a moment more, looking her up and down as if checking for injuries, and then turned to Lizzie. “This’ll take just a minute,” he told her, and headed down the hallway. Lucy sighed out a breath as he opened and closed the door to his office. There. Disaster averted. Hopefully.  

“Lucy, are you alright?” Lizzie repeated.

“I’m fine. Go enjoy your party,” she nodded in the direction of the dining room. Lizzie frowned. “Please.”

The taller woman looked unconvinced, but headed down the hall. Finally alone, Lucy slumped against the wall. Her breathing was mostly back to normal, though the attack itself had unnerved her. She had dealt with Mosley on her own before, and yet she’d never had such a blatant, panicked reaction to his advances. Granted, he had never outright grabbed her like that before, but still…

 It had to be the combination of tiredness and stress, she decided. And the fact that Mosley at times reminded her unnervingly of Matthew. Or maybe it was the emotional turmoil of being back inside this house. 

She drew in a deep breath, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, drawing the smoke greedily into her lungs. It helped to stabilize her. If only a little. 

Finally feeling a bit more like herself, she began to head back towards the dining room. 

Lizzie was easy to spot, tall and gorgeous where she was standing next to Polly. Lucy paused in the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the wall, hands fiddling with her rings while she watched her. She was near fucking ethereal in her ornately detailed gown, her dark hair styled in stiff waves around her chin, features impeccable. 

No wonder Tommy had chosen her over Lucy. Where Lizzie was tall and slim and striking, Lucy was short, curvy, and plain, with skin almost as freckled as it was scarred. And of course there was her flaming red hair–she’d always had a sneaking suspicion that Tommy preferred brunettes–her eyes that were too big to be in proportion with the rest of her face, and her scars. Any man would find her repulsive in comparison to Lizzie.  

“Yes, that’s why he’s always been so enthusiastic to get you naked: because he finds you repulsive,” Grace’s voice spoke up, dripping with sarcasm. Lucy turned her head towards where the voice came from. Grace was leaning against the opposite wall, looking at her with a deeply unimpressed expression on her face. 

Lucy ripped her gaze away from the ghost, ducking her head down and pushing past a few guests to make her way over to Polly and Lizzie. Polly was shaking her head.

“Lizzie, if we were to strike from our guest lists every man in Birmingham who you-”

“Fuck,” Lizzie muttered, eyes focused on where Tommy and Mosley had just appeared in the doorway. The sight of Mosley made Lucy shrink back behind the other two women. Polly raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to Lizzie. 

“Yes or no?”

“Fucking yes,” Lizzie grumbled, turning to set her drink down. Both she and Polly muttered “shit” quietly under their breath as the men approached them. 

The introductions were awkward, to say the least. Especially since Mosley insisted on smugly bringing his past with Lizzie up. But Lizzie, to Lucy’s surprise, actually managed to swipe back at him. Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a coin. 

“For the champagne and brandy you bought me, as I recall it was the booze that put you to sleep a little prematurely,” she tossed the coin into Mosley’s glass. Lucy’s chest spasmed, forcing herself to cough to cover up what would have likely been an inappropriately loud cackle. Polly patted her on the back, no doubt trying to sell the image that she was just choking on her drink rather than being near incapacitated with hysterical laughter. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” a man from the ballet company called. “The dance is about to begin.”  

Mosley looked a little shell-shocked, staring down at the coin now resting in his drink before turning and silently walking away. Like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

“Mr. Mosley!” Tommy called out, “a toast, if I may. To the end of our deal, and the beginning of something more,” he raised his glass and turned. “Happy birthday, Lizzie,” he shot her an approving wink and clinked her glass with his. Facing Mosley again, he held a hand out as he guided the man away from them. “This way.” 

Lucy rested her hands on Lizzie's shoulders from behind, stretching up on her toes to whisper into the woman’s ear. “I love you,” she told her. Lizzie shot a somewhat bashful yet proud grin over her shoulder at her. She let Polly and Lizzie drift ahead of her in the crowd, walking on her own outside to where the tent had been set up with the stage for the performance.    

By the time she got to the tent, a good share of the guests had already been seated. Tommy and Lizzie were sitting in the front row. But he had an arm subtly draped around the empty chair next to him on his right, keeping anyone from taking it. She was painfully aware of him trying to catch her eye but ignored him, aware that she was being childish but not able to muster up enough energy to care.

Instead she walked right past him, Lizzie, and the seat that he’d been apparently saving for her. Making her way around the rows of chairs, she found a spot that was about as far as she could sit from them as possible, tucked way in the back. Sitting down, she pulled her shawl as tight around herself as she could, suddenly wishing that she’d worn a warmer dress than the simple black gown she’d chosen. 

When she finally chanced a glance over at Tommy and Lizzie, it was to find Tommy staring at her as if she’d just turned around and shot his dog. His blue eyes were wide with hurt, jaw tensing as though he were trying to restrain anymore emotion from leaking onto his features. Lizzie looked stunned, her brows creased together and lips pouting slightly. 

Lucy only met their gaze for half a second before she had to look away. 

The rest of the guests quickly filled in the rest of the seats around her. The people who sat near her were complete strangers, but she’d take that over having to sit by Mosley or Gina.

Ballet had never really been of much interest to Lucy, but even she had to admit that the performance was quite lovely. But it simply could not hold her attention, try as she might to focus on it. Her gaze kept sweeping over the audience.  

She saw Lizzie take Tommy’s hand, gazing at him with happy, hopeful eyes. He didn’t remove his gaze from the ballerinas to look at her, but he didn’t pull his hand away either.

Husband and wife. Happy together at last. Lucy looked down at her hands, clasping them together tightly. Until her knuckles turned white. Tears had to be blinked hastily from her eyes at the realization that no one would probably ever hold her hand again. And especially not like that. 

Towards the end of the show, she spotted Polly stealing away with Aberama, ducking under a string of lights and vanishing into the dark.

Gaze scanning over the crowd, she rolled her eyes at the sight of Arthur slumped over, asleep. Tommy and Lizzie were still holding hands. Michael looked bored. Beside him, Gina’s eyes darted away from the stage, glancing over at Mosley, who had been rather blatantly staring at her. He looked away quickly at their eyes meeting, but Gina’s gaze lingered on him a bit too long to be just simple curiosity. Interesting.

Lucy made mental note of the odd interaction. That would be a thread to pull on later. To see if there was anything of value or intrigue attached to it. 

Something tugged at her mind to do another sweep of the crowd, and when she did, it was to find Tommy staring at her.

The expression on his face was imploring. Desperate and worried. She thought that she might’ve seen longing there, too, but told herself that it was just wishful thinking. 

She wanted to tell him that it was alright. He didn’t need to feel guilty. He didn’t owe her anything. And he should not feel obligated to continue to be with her out of some misguided sense of duty. She understood. Things change. People change. Feelings change. It wasn’t his fault. 

She had always had a sneaking suspicion that this would happen eventually. It was her own bloody fault for not more properly preparing herself for it. 

Tommy seemed to be trying to tell her something with his eyes. Like they used to be able to do all the time. Their little mind reading trick. But she couldn’t read him anymore. When she looked into his blue orbs, she could not make out any words. 

Somehow, without either of them realizing it, the bond between them had broken. Lucy wondered if it could even be repaired at this point.

Not that there was much point in ruminating over that. He was happy with his wife. Why would he want to waste time and energy trying to fix anything between them when he had Lizzie? 

A flash of car lights in the distance, on the front drive, caught her attention. Odd. She couldn’t think of anyone who had been on the guest list that hadn’t arrived. In the corner of her eye, Tommy shifted, having spotted the car lights as well. He leaned forward, looking down the front row at Arthur. When he caught sight of his brother asleep, his shoulders heaved in a sigh, features turning exasperated. 

His eyes returned to Lucy’s. She could see the silent scream echoing behind them. She gave him a sympathetic look. Had she been sitting closer to Arthur, she would have been able to kick him awake. 

She kept an eye on the approaching car while Tommy leaned back in his seat to catch Michael’s eye. He was the closest of any of them to Arthur’s seat. Tommy gave a small jerk of his head in a silent order, spurring Michael to reach in front of him to nudge Arthur until he woke. Lucy watched as the two Shelby brothers shared a glance of silent communication before Arthur stood, discreetly shuffling away towards the front drive to deal with the approaching car. She kept one eye trained on Arthur’s disappearing figure, another on the ballerina spinning on the stage.

The car had stopped but the lights were still on. A person exited and moved to stand in front of it. Lucy leaned forward, eyes narrowed, trying to make out who it was. A flash of pale blonde hair caught the light. Shit. It looked like Linda.

She stood abruptly, walking behind the rows of guests, moving briskly after Arthur. If anyone had reason to crash the party and ruin everyone's evening, it was Linda. The woman was likely justifiably furious over what Arthur had done to her friend, but the last thing they needed was an altercation between Linda and Arthur with all of these people around. 

She shot a quick glance over her shoulder at the tent. It didn’t seem like any of the guests had taken notice yet, too enthralled by the performance in front of them. Except for Tommy, who had stood from his seat and was following after her. Lizzie was watching them, expression curious. Lucy looked away, quickening her pace towards Arthur and Linda. 

Linda moved suddenly and…was that a gun!? Lucy broke into a run that was more of a jog. Fucking heels. She should have just worn her oxfords, even if they didn’t match her dress. She almost made it to Arthur, who despite having a gun aimed at him hadn’t moved, when a gunshot rang out, loud enough to hurt her ears. There were footsteps behind her, Tommy and Lizzie skidding to a halt beside her. For a moment, everyone was still.

Then Linda crumpled over onto her side with a soft thud.

“Arthur,” Tommy gasped. His older brother spun around, shocked eyes scanning over each of them. His hands were empty. It wasn’t him who’d shot Linda. Lucy looked at Tommy. No gun on him, nor on Lizzie. 

And behind them, her weapon still raised, face pressed into a stern, protective expression, not unlike a lioness protecting her cubs, stood Polly.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[lau219]

Just a drop space for asks and headcanon posts. This list won’t include every single one I do, but most.

As deemed by my friend @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction, the “Good Boys” includes Cillian, Emmett, Robert, and Leonard. The “Bad Boys” includes Tommy/Modern Tommy, Raymond, Jonathan, and Jackson. 😂

*Requests for these are open.* Asks and requests can be for either or both groups, or you’re welcome to pick and choose.

*****

Their kinks — Tommy/Modern Tommy, Emmett, Robert, Raymond, Jackson, Jonathan

How they react to catching you touching yourself or reading erotica— Robert, Jackson, Jonathan, and Tommy

How they react to someone harassing/coming on to you — The Good Boys The Bad Boys

How they react to you saying you want a big family — The Good Boys The Bad Boys

How they react to you getting a tattoo — Cillian, Tommy/Modern Tommy, Emmett, Robert, Jonathan

Who is most giving and most selfish in bed — All the boys

How they react to the idea of softer intimacy — Tommy/Modern Tommy, Raymond, Jonathan

Robert’s reaction to you telling off his father

How Cillian from Anything You Need reacts to accidental drunk texts from Y/N

How they react to you sexting them during work — Cillian, Modern Tommy, Emmett, Robert, and Jonathan

[novashelby]

"His Desk Pet"- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby Warnings: Sub!reader, Dom!Tommy, cock warming, degrading language, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibition, choking, rough. Slight dubcon. Word Count: 1.2k Summary: Tommy wants his little pet to sit under his desk, be quiet, and warm his aching cock. The catch? His brothers are sitting just across from him.

War does things to people, and for Tommy Shelby, it was the blanket feeling of not giving a fuck. ‘Not giving a fuck’ was, of course, subjective. Though, it made his company quite uncomfortable. Tucked away, under his desk like the good pet he told her that she was, he undid his trousers. There was a hidden attempt at being discreet. While she was under there, his two brothers sat across from him; playing the role of oblivious. Of course, neither of them were. Arthur had caught the shadow of her foot through the space between the desk and the floor. John? He eyed Tommy as his hands fumbled with the belt. But remember, Tommy does not give a fuck. 

John offered him an amused look, motioning to the desk. “Really? Are we a bloody audience to your fookin’ circus?” Arthur on the other hand leaned back, nursing his whiskey. He eyed his slightly younger, but more demanding younger brother with equal disgust and curiosity.

Tommy one handedly flipped through the accounts booklet that was scribbled with numbers and names. Drying he said, “I don’t know what you are talking about, John.” Meanwhile, just under that desk, she rested a bit hunched on her knees. He had one rule, one request; cockwarm him. Don’t move your mouth was what he had said to her. No licking, sucking, bobbing your head. Just warm me with that pretty mouth, Eh? With his left hand, he stroked himself hard, rubbing the precum at the top. She watched as he pushed his fingers at her. Without being told, she took his fingers in and cleaned them, devouring his taste. She had to hold back a little whine as he pulled them from her mouth and hit the back on her head to silently tell her to take him. “Now, boys-”

“You can’t be fookin’ serious,” John laughed with a wheeze. “What is she doing? Sucking your langer under the fucking desk?” He turned to Arthur, hitting his chest. “Are we seriously going to talk fixed boxing matches with-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, John,” Tommy repeated, his eyes looking down at her, unimpressed. Her lips rested comfortably half way; his cock filling just before her gag reflex. Even so, her jaw felt sore. Little bubbles of drool decorated the corners of her lips. With a heavy hand on the back of her head, he pushed her down. Just with a look, he reminded her that you need to warm the whole cock, not only what you can take. 

Arthur rubbed his temple. “A maid?”

Tommy let out a sigh as she took him down completely, her mouth warm and comforting around him. She on the other hand fought against the gags and chokes, drool streaming down her chin. But she was to just keep herself like that. It felt so…degrading? But the tingle between her legs told her that she liked it. Very much, actually. The fact that they knew she was under there, being obedient and good, but also very much a fucking slut. Or how he so casually ignored their curiosities. She fought through the pain radiating around her lips, jaw, and throat for her own sick, twisted pleasure for being humiliated. “Friday night, we will have to-”

“Is it Lizzie?” John asked.

“A whore?”

“That horse lady that you were fucking when-”

Tommy snorted. “Listen, she likes to be ignored. In fact, the more you ignore her, the faster I get off on the whole ordeal.” Arthur and John uncomfortably shifted in their seats and motioned for him to continue. Tommy droned on. But her, the toy under the desk, drowned them out with the sounds of her own spit gurgling. She did her best not lick or suck, or come across as bratty. Drool streamed from her lips, pooling around the floor and on his boots. Her once crisp, neat white blouse was stained with wet marks, clinging to her skin. Tommy eyed her, grinning as her nostrils flared, trying to keep up with breathing. Her whole face was red and flushed. As the gentleman he was, his hand kindly stroked her warm cheek. 

Arthur was starting to become intrigued. “So, lemme ask one question.”

Tommy, lost in her eyes, smiled at her before touching the other cheek. “Good girl,” he mouthed before responding to his brother. “I prefer if you didn’t-”

“But I am,” Arthur cut him off, scratching at his ear. “Is she some type of…ah…um, what do they call it, Johnny boy?” John shrugged, laughing how if anyone was going to know, it’d be him. “A fetish thing…a pet-”

“A pet?” Tommy scoffed, amused, looking at him before at her. Her eyes never left him; big, round, and beautiful. So innocent and telling, yet he knew her too well. “Are you a pet?” he asked, laughing a little. “Hm?” He spoke to her as if she had limited brain cells. She sank a bit, moaning against him. “No, I don’t think you're a pet.” That is when his fingers squeezed her nose and she flipped out, hands slapping against his legs. The overwhelming feeling of not being able to breathe made her gain a sense of severity. Trapped and stuck with another holding her life in his hands. For what was only a few seconds felt like minutes. When he let go of her nose, she fought to suck in all of the air in the room. Tommy laughed, rubbing her cheek again. “No, Arthur, I care about my pets-”

“Tommy!” John choked. “Fookin’ ‘ell,” he sighed, scratching his nose. Arthur had to look away for a second, trying to compose his thoughts. He started to believe he didn’t have any; lost and shocked.

“Get off,” Tommy told her and she was thankful to finally relax her face. It was red, puffy, and messy, and her lips were swollen and pathetic. He swiped at her wet eyes that watered from the pain before he ‘kindly’ massaged her jaw. “Good girl…stand up, come on.” She crawled from under the desk and stood up. John and Arthur immediately looked at her before each other. Tommy pulled her in, enjoying the mess she made of herself. “You’re all messy,” he cooed, wiping her face with his handkerchief. “Come here, hm?” She got closer as he tended to her, rubbing her back. He tossed the cloth to the table before looking at his brothers. She felt a bit embarrassed, turning her head. Without saying anything, he pinched her chin to look forward. “Now, which one are you going to suck off first, eh?” She choked out, turning to him, unsure of what he was asking. He matched her frown with a smirk. “Choose wisely, one is an animal and the other likes to slap his whores around.”

Arthur coughed, nearly dropping his whiskey. “The fuck you’re gonna ask us that!” John blushed a bit in the cheeks, averting his eyes with a grin. 

“Tommy, no…not after she just had you balls deep down her throat-”

Tommy leaned back, taking a smoke from his back and throwing it. His eyes scanned over her before saying. She felt like an animal in a cage at the zoo, everyone studying her. “She’s got two other holes, John. She has no objection to being used in any way needed of her. Isn’t that right?” He looked up at her.

Swallowing, she replied in a hoarse, unsure voice, “yes, sir.”

That made Tommy pleased. “Good girl. Now choose.”

[cillianmurphyfanatic]

Cillian Murphy photographed by George Pimentel for Breakfast on Pluto Portraits at the 30th Toronto International Film Festival [TIFF] at HP Portrait Studio in Toronto, Canada. (2005)

[i-blindside]

Cillian Murphy | When you give your kidnappers attitude

[mydear-corinthian]

phone call

synopsis - tommy receives a phone call in the middle of having sex with his wife.

pairing - tommy shelby x reader / thomas shelby x reader

warnings - SMUT +18, rough sex, use of foul language, breeding kink, praising kink, creampie, just full of porn, unprotected sex, p in v

notes - short (w.c <850), gif and picture isn't mine, divider is mine

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

His hands explored every inch of your sensitive body with a satisfying touch that sent shivers down your spine. There was an irresistible affection between the two of you that was endless. Your breath caught as his dominant, wild hip thrusts into yours, causing hectic, unrestrained moans with every thrust.

"Oh my God- yes, Thomas!"

As he pushed you farther into the mattress, his weight and heat surrounded you as you lay beneath him, your bodies linked. He drew closer as your legs coiled around his hips, stretching you in the most delicious way as he slid deeper with each thrust. Tommy started to breathe hard, his chest heaving as sweat collected on his forehead and trickled down to mix with the heat from your smooth skin. He met your gaze with lust and something deeper than that.

"Yes, baby.. fuck- you take me so well.. so fucking well," he praised on your ear as he rested his head on your neck, his deep thrusts not stopping.

The telephone on top of the nightstand beside your shared bed rang loudly. Your husband stopped, looking at the phone near him.

Who the fuck is calling at this hour?

Tommy picked the phone up, not leaving the bed.

"Thomas Shelby." he answered.

You expected him that he would draw away and stop, especially when the phone rang. He stopped and reached for it, and you felt upset. Tommy, though, chose to stay still and answered the phone with one hand while tightening his grip on your waist with the other and suddenly thrusting his hips forward once more.

His thrusts continued to shock you, causing your body to tense in surprise, but before you could respond, pleasure took over. His cock sank farther, each malicious movement finding that exact spot. You ended up speechless by both of his soothing phone voice and the way he caused your body to react to him.

"What ha-happened?" Tommy asked over the phone, his breathing heavily telling each question with a struggled and unsteady voice. He attempted to keep his composure, but the force of his motions made it almost impossible as his chest rose and fell quickly. As he tried to concentrate on the talk, you could feel his heart thumping against your body and his breath rapid and hot against your skin.

Tommy looked at you, a smirk painted on his face. With his free hand, his fingers toyed with your hardened nipples, brushing them and squeezing it.

"Tomm-" you covered your mouth immediately as you nearly moaned his name out loud, afraid of whoever is on the phone hearing that Tommy is fucking his wife at the moment.

"Yeah, I'll handle that tomorrow morning," his voice was deep making you feel wetter and wetter. A familiar feeling coiled down through your stomach.

"Tommy, I'm so close," you quietly moaned. Your fingers gripped the silk bedsheets tightly as you felt your high coming.

The room was filled with the constant sound of your bodies meeting, the heat between you growing with each slap of flesh on skin. Your thoughts were taken over by the intense pleasure that was shooting through your entire body as your eyelids fluttered closed, buried in a fog of ecstasy. You vaguely heard Tommy drop the phone somewhere in the distance, but it didn't really matter. The way he grabbed you closer and pounded your hips with such merciless pace that every thrust sent shivers of pleasure through your entire body was all that mattered. Heavy intakes of breath from him, merging with your groans as he pushed you both to the edge.

"Good girl, yes, yes.. Finish on my cock."

Tommy experienced the same closeness as your cock clenched all over it. With a deep moan, he raised your right leg to his shoulders. He treated you like the most precious gemstones that thieves like him could take. Tommy groaned and praised as his head rolled back.

"D'you want me to cum inside you? Breed you? Make you mine?"

"Yes, yes! Fill me up, sir! Please!"

His back was scratched by your nails, and in a few hours, scars will definitely begin to appear. You groaned, breasts bouncing and the bed creaking with every pound.

And then, after a few more thrusts, he smashed deep inside of you until he poured all of his seed into your abused and tight walls. It was warm and filled. Tommy groaned loudly and pleased, then rested his head on the side of your neck to inhale yourself. He waited until every last drop of his cum filled you before pulling out.

As soon as he pulled out, a mixture of his and your load leaked outside your throbbing pussy. Tommy got up, grabbing a box of tissue and cleaned the both of you up.

"Who was that?" you asked.

"Just the betting shop asking for me to check on something."

"You think they.. heard me?"

"I'm sure they did and I'm glad so that they know how much I fucking please my lovely wife." he chuckled before planting another kiss to your lips.

You gladly kissed him back but the kiss deepened and the both of you know what that means.

Another round.

[peaky1wh0re]

Smash.