#peaky blinder request
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How the Peaky boys would react to âyou wearing a sundressâ -> headcannon
(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk
TommyđȘ
đȘit was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.
đȘTommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.
đȘhe hadnât meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a⊠long night
đȘbut still, you stirred and whined âTom?â You breathe with a rasped voice âsâalright, back to sleep darlingâ he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.
đȘyou climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror
đȘyou turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.
đȘâSolomons is coming by todayâ Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes âlong meeting?â You ask and he shakes his head âshouldnât beâ you nod âdâyou want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?â You ask and he connects his eyes with yours âyâknow yâworry me when you stay in there all dayâ you continue and he offers a small smile. âIâll take that as a yesâ you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. âGo on, shoo.â
đȘhe smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went
đȘso there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body
đȘyou saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress
đȘyou looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for todayâs endeavours.
đȘyouâd nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.
đȘyou even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.
đȘlater in the day you headed to Tommyâs office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.
đȘyouâd headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinderâs designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.
đȘTommy couldnât be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, heâd never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.
đȘâoh Iâm so sorry gentlemanâ you said, pivoting to leave âno no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Werenât you?â Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. âYeah yeah, just leaving Tomâ
đȘAlfie stood, to leave and smiled at you âlovely to see you, poppetâ Alfie said, youâd always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you âyou look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it isâ âfuck off Alfieâ âyeah yeah Iâm going, bye loveâ
đȘTommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. âIâm sorry Tom I didnât think heâd still be here-â âhave you had that on all day?â He cuts you off and you raise your brows âthe dress?â âMhmâ âoh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.â You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.
đȘTommy couldnât help but smile âcâm ere.â He beckons you over and you approach him âI brought you some lunch-â you begin ânah, got all I need to eat right hereâ he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.
đȘhe sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.
đȘâdangerous wearing this, loveâ he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk âcanât do this to yâold Tom and expect to get away with itâ he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.
đȘâIâm buying you more oâ these.â
Alfieđ§ž
đ§žAlfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.
đ§žâso, what do you think?â You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. âBlimey poppet, whatâs this then?â He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.
đ§žâa sundress Alf!â You say, âyâbought it last year, remember?â âThought Iâd remember buying something like this.â He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own âgive us a spin then darlingâ he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.
đ§žânow this is fucking fabulous ainât it darlinâ, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicelyâ he mumbles as you smile âbut yâcanât wear itâ he says and your face drops âyâwhat?â You asks, brows furrowing. âYâaint givin yâold man heart palpitations and expecting me to let yâout of the house, flower. Not like thisâ he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.
đ§žâbut weâre got to go to the market-â you protest ânah, we ainâtâ he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly âAlfie!â
đ§žâdonât think I wonât shag yâon these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?â
đ§žthen later in the day when youâd finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldnât help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped âAlfie!â You hissed. âCâmon love I canât cope.â He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.
Arthurđș
đșso. Fucking. Antsy.
đșcanât keep his fucking hands off of you.
đșleft early, didnât he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.
đșyou decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if heâd have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasnât good business. Meaning itâd perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.
đșyouâd gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.
đșyouâd rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.
đșthen you spotted it; the sundress
đșArthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.
đșand you were in a teasing mood after the way heâd slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.
đșso youâd slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldnât get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.
đșyou decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew itâd get him even more rilled up knowing full well that youâd been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.
đșyeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.
đșso you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.
đșyou knocked on his door âfuck offâ and you opened it âsorry Arth, thought youâd want some companyâ you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.
đșâbrought you a bunâ you say, taking it out of the bag youâd brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. âFuck me love, yâtryna kill me?â He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. âWhat do you mean, darling?â You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. âYou know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back againâ he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.
đșâwearing the nice perfume too, ainât ya love?â He asked meekly and you nodded âwarm day and I couldnât find anything else. Saw how quickly youâd left his morning so I thought Iâd bring you something to eatâ you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.
đșâyâve been to that fucking bakery, ainât ya?â He asked, gritting his teeth âwell itâs your favourite-â âand that little bastard was serving wasnât he?â He asked again, eyes narrowing âwho? Daniel-â âyes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers thatâs whoâ he seethed.
đșthen it dawned on him. âAnd he saw you in this fucking thingâ he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed âmâsorry Arth. Didnât thinkâ you reply. Liar. âNah I think you knew. Knew to tease yâold Arthur didnât you?â He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile âI knew it! Yâlittle minx!â He chuckled, shaking his head.
đșâwell!âYou exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped âIâll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.â You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.
đșâwhere the fuck do you think youâre going?â He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. âGot all I want to eat right fucking âere. You ainât leaving this office in this bastard dressâ he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.
Johnđ„
đ„bold of you to think youâre even leaving the house with it on.
đ„heâs not like his brothers, he wouldnât leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.
đ„no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.
đ„he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs heâd sneak in.
đ„gave him a sense of homeliness.
đ„a bit of normality.
đ„today was no different, heâd woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.
đ„âmammy Iâm hungry!â A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. âFucking kid interrupting. About to fu-â John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. âAlright mate, Iâll come, leave your poor mammy aloneâ John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. âThanks daddyâ he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. âDonât moveâ he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh âyes sirâ you salute and he smirk.
đ„âright câmon mate.â John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.
đ„you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadnât shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.
đ„âright, littleâuns eating his breakf- fuck meâ you spun around to look at your husband and smiled âwhat dây think?â You ask, âgâi us a twirlâ he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.
đ„âitâs a sundressâ you say âI can see that flowerâ he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him âyâcanât wear thaâ.â He says simply and you giggle âwhyâs tha Johnny?â You ask and he raises his brows âthat little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.â He says âyâcannea wear it cause Iâm not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.â He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.
đ„you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head ânow, now whole point of this dress is that itâs easy access now, ainât it?â He hums âleave it on Iâll work around donât you worry âbout me.â He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.
đ„he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. âMammy! Daddy weâre âungry!â You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. âHarriet darlinâ can you reach the milk?â He asks after a minute âI can daâ.â Her little voice replies âToby can you reach the cereal?â âUh-huhâ the other retorts. âGreat and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?â âYeah I know where they are daddy!â The little one says âperfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big âun Iâm not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Yâhere me?â He asks âyeah dadâ âToby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.â He instructs âokay!â The collective voices come out. âHannah need you to make sure itâs all gone to plan, alright hon?â He asks âsure thingâ then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs
đ„âand I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess yâll all be up for the fuckinâ high jump!â He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you âwhere were we?â
đ„and then when youâd finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it âdonât forget weâre going to Aliceâs garden party.â You say âwhat?â He asks, noticing how youâve dressed all the kids appropriately âyâainât going looking like that flowerâ he says âI sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!â You say, ushering him out the door
đ„he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.
Bonnieđ„
đ„Bonnieâs just as bad as John
đ„cannot keep his hands off of you
đ„ââm takinâ yâ to Bonnie Goldâs fight.â Your brother said walking into the room âwear summot nice, that dress I bought youâ âwhy?â âJust get dressedâ you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.
đ„âis his sister coming?â Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked âwhy?â âJâst wonderinâ.â âYeah well keep yâeyes on the prizeâ Aberama told him âshe is the fuckinâ prizeâ âtry keep yâhands off of âer until the fights over, yeah?â He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.
đ„you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.
đ„so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over âpoor lads gonna have a fuckinâ heart attackâ John said, laughing âshut up Johnâ you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. âYou look niceâ Arthur commented with a raised brow âdamn fucker better win this fightâ
đ„âBonnieâ Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John whoâd strung an arm over your shoulder. âMr Shelbyâ he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. âDonât you worry, Bonnie. Sheâs right âere.â Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. âHiya, Bon.â You smile âhiya flowerâ he manages to muster.
đ„yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didnât deserve to see. Bonnieâs jaw clenched.
đ„âright, weâll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, letâs chatâ Thomas said, leading the others away âif he tries anything come and fuckinâ find me.â John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.
đ„Bonnie smirked looking at you âyâlook lovelyâ he said quietly, approaching you ânot too bad yâself Bonâ you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. âThis fuckinâ dress. Yâdo it on purpose?â He asks and you crease your brows âdo what?â You hum and he sighs âI guess youâre not beautiful on purpose are you darlinâ?â He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.
đ„he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.
đ„âthis fucking dressâ he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh âBon weâve only got ten minutes!â You giggle and he sighs âguess weâve got to be quick then, ay sugar?â He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.
đ„you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. âGod âm so fuckinâ obsessed with you.â He groaned âyâknow what this makes me think of?â He asks and you shake your head in question against him. âMakes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when sheâs pregnant ând canât get into nothinâ else.â He mumbles. âThis whaâya were tryna do tâme?â He asks âtryna get me to make yâa mammy? Cause itâs working darlinâ. So well.â You whine at his remark.
đ„and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place âNuh uh. You dress like a mammy yâbecome oneâ he says and you canât help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door âfive minutes, son. Get your hands wrappedâ you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him âcâmon Iâll wrap your handsâ
đ„you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.
đ„He was being extremely difficult
đ„trying to wrap a manâs hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. âDâya want your hands wrapping or not?â You ask with a huff and he smirks âwould rather be doing somethinâ else.â He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.
đ„âBonnie, câmon lad itâs timeâ you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)
đ„Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didnât know when heâd managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.
đ„Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. âBonnie! Go!â You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.
đ„The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.
đ„then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.
đ„âwell done Bonnie lad.â Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. âCheers Tommy.â He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. âDidnât yâget some money fâthis match?â John asked, lighting his own. âNah heâs got his own trophy right over thereâ Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnieâs father.
đ„âjust do us a favourâ Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded âmarry her.â âDonât have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.â Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.
Isaiahâïž
âïžhaha.
âïžagain, bold of you to assume that youâre getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.
âïžfeel like itâd be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.
âïžyouâd gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.
âïževentually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign youâd read that said âpretty women here shilling for a good timeâ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you werenât in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.
âïžâHey pretty, whatâre you doing all alone?â Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. âAnd who let you wear that?â His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. âWhy whatâs wrong with it?â You asked ânothinâ nothinâ. Jâst donât understand why itâs not on my bedroom floorâ you smacked his chest and giggled âIsaiah!â
âïžâyâshouldnt have been let out wearing this, loveâ he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. âWell I was with Finnâ you reason âhmm? And where is Finn now?â He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.
âïžâin some whore houseâ you mumble in reply. He scoffs âsome brotherâ. Then he starts again âwhy donât we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?â He suggests and you roll your eyes âsuch a way with wordsâ
âïžâyâlook fuckinâ insatiableâ he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. âDunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, dollâ he shrugs âand in this? Fuck yânot gonna be walking anytime soonâ
âïžyou laugh at him âyou wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.â You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs âIâm a Shelby I can fend for myselfâ you shrug ânot while I make you a Jesus.â He retorts, smirking like he knew heâd won. âWhatever, Isaiahâ you say, calmly walking away
âïžhe laughs loudly, running after you âcâmon Mrs Jesus weâve business to attend to!â He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress âIsaiah!â You scold, ânot here!â He rolls his eyes âfineâ
âïžand he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.
âïždid not wait until you got to the bedroom
âïždefo had his way with you against the door once itâd been firmly slammed shut and locked
âïžand on the sofa
âïžand the kitchen table
âïžand then bedroom
âïž(you never took the dress off)
âïžand eventually when youâd decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, whoâd initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which youâd end up in later anyways
âïžâoh sheâs alive!â Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finnâs. âHow long did you last? Two minutes?â You asked and he scoffed âfuck offâ âand of course Iâm alive, Iâm fine. It was Finn who left me alone!â You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.
âïžthen Isaiah popped his head round âplus I wasnât alone I was with Isaiahâ you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw âwhatâve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubberâ Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiahâs jaw who stumbled back slightly. âDidnât say nothinâ âbout fucking her did ya?â He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.
âïžâmen.â Polly said with a roll of her eyes
Michaelđ±
đ±he wouldnât be here nor there
đ±loved how it looks on you
đ±but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.
đ±he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.
đ±the only time it saw the light of day in public wouldâve definitely been when heâd been courting you. When heâd been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.
đ±what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.
đ±heâd obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.
đ±and of course, history tends to repeat itself.
đ±again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommyâs expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.
đ±âIâll meet you there darling, business to take care of.â Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. âOkayâ you hummed, he always loved how youâd never pried.
đ±in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man whoâd been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didnât have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.
đ±even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.
đ±never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.
đ±so he went about killing the man the next day; well heâs probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.
đ±you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.
đ±you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered
đ±but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family youâd married into, patiently waiting for Michaelâs attendance.
đ±he was there soon thereafter.
đ±and he was fucking seething.
đ±he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing
đ±but nothing could soften the red he saw.
đ±how dare you wear that dress?
đ±practically threw you into the car, youâd never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But heâd gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home
đ±but tonight was different
đ±âMichael, darlin-â âhow dare you?â He seethed and you silenced yourself âpardon?â âHow many fucking times have I told you youâre not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?â He growls and you donât know how to reply âhe looks at you like youâre a fucking piece of meet, sweets.â He tells you, finally looking at you
đ±âundressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.â âJohn has a wife-â âJohn hires prostitutes. Yâthink heâd be a better husband?â He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder âno-â âno. Cause Iâve never hired a fuckinâ prostitute since weâve been together, and I work hard for you, yâknow. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.â He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.
đ±âkilled a man for you and I show up to you actinâ like a fuckinâ whore?â Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly âthink I didnât kill that bloke? Think Iâd leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldnâtâ he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.
đ±he stops the car and doesnât move for a minute.
đ±âlisten to me very carefully, flower. Iâm going to change my bloody shirt, and youâre gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?â He asks âyeah oâcourse Michael.â You say as you get out the car
đ±âand leave that fuckinâ dress on!â You hear called behind you.
Finnđïž
đïžFinn is just horny 25/8 icl.
đïždoesnât know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.
đïžit was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one anotherâs company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.
đïžTommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.
đïžwaltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer whoâd caused the doorâs bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.
đïževen shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle âhello prettyâ
đïžhe noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. âWhatâs this? Is it new?â He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. âIt isâ you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you âitâs lovelyâ he says, noticing something about it but he didnât know quite what.
đïžâwhy are you here?â You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress âarenât I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?â He asks with a smirk âyes but I can tell thereâs something. A look in your eyes.â You say and he sighs, defeated âparty at the Garrisonâ he says âwhen?â You ask âright nowâ he says and you laugh âFinn I canât just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!â You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter âFinn! Where did you get that much money?â You gasp âdonât worry bout it. Enough for you to close?â He asks and you scoff âI canât accept ten whole pounds, Finnâ you tell him âsure you can cause Iâm not having it backâ he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door âokay fine!â You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.
đïžthen when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.
đïžJohn came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. âWhatâs up, Finn?â He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. âNothinâ.â He shrugged. âCanât be about your missus, yâhead over heels for her.â John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic âno! no! Nothinâ like tha.â Finn said, shaking his head. âThen what is it?â John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.
đïžâdunno. Itâs summot about that dressâ Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles âeasy access, mate.â John said and Finn creased his brows âyâwhat?â âSundresses mate, fuckinâ kill me. Easy access innit? Donât have to even take the dress offâ John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finnâs eyes darkened and John couldnât hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.
đïžJohn claps him on the back âif yâwanna sneak off Iâll coverâ he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you âcheers, mate!â He said to John âsorry, stealing herâ he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.
đïžyou giggle at his actions as he locked the dork âwhat yâdoin sill?â You ask âpartyâs outside!â You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt âright, ând Iâve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckinâ crazyâ he says âyouâre fuckinâ insatiableâ he says âdâyou even know what that means?â You ask and he shrugs âfind me a dictionary later or summot.â He says
đïžâwhatâs up with the dressâ you ask, as he undoes his trousers âeasy access innit?â
Aberamađ
đAberama is a cultured bloke
đby that I mean heâs had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion
đso regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.
đrecently youâd moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.
đheâd woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek theyâd had to get to this sight the night prior.
đhe reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you shouldâve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.
đhe groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.
đhe rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once youâd arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.
đhe climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And thatâs where he found you:
đhis gorgeous bride.
đheâd always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and heâd look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didnât even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet youâd shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.
đ yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit heâd kill (given youâd been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And youâd kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.
đyou were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didnât quite recognise.
đâwhat yâdoin up, sweetheart? Thought I told yâto relax todayâ he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him âhad a big journey last night. No good fâlittle girls to be working the day afterâ he said, matter of factly with a stern look.
đâjust wanted to get these clothes washedâ you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. âAnd whatâs this youâve got on, hmm?â He asked, as you look at your clothes âoh itâs a dressâ âMm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it beforeâ he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. âMy sister bought it for my birthdayâ you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to natureâs music.
đâwell yâknow what these dresses are?â He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. âThese dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind youâd wear when theyâre all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.â He says, accusingly. âKind that little wives wear that are asking for a hidingâ he warns
đâdidnât mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was niceâ you admit and he smiles âI know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower yâare.â He shakes his head.
đâbut yâve seen the other mammys around the camp havenât you? Seen how theyâve dressed. Think you know what you were doinâ to your old manâ he teases and you shake your head âm too old to be a daâ yâknow. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ainât ya? Just asking for a littleâunâ he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where heâd began
đâAberama! The clothes!-â âCan fuckinâ waitâ he grunts âgot a littleâun to put in ya firstâ he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.
đmake your skin fucking crawl.
#masterlist#xreader#smut#fluff#warner sister#angst#requests#x you#imagine#Peaky blinders#Tommy Shelby#John Shelby#Arthur Shelby#Alfie Solomons#Isaiah Jesus#Michael gray#Aberama gold#Bonnie gold#thomas shelby x reader#john shelby x reader#alfie solomons x yn#Alfie Solomons x reader#Bonnie gold x Shelby reader#Michael gray x reader#Aberama gold x reader#Arthur Shelby x reader#isaiah jesus x reader#peaky blinders x reader#Cillian Murphy x reader#Tom hardy x reader
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Tommy Shelby serving total cunt in glasses requested by: anon <3
#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#cillian murphy#peaky blinders#thomasshelbyedit#peakyblindersedit#tv#perioddramaedit#gif requests are open!#requests#sorry this took so long#my laptop is fixed now :D#tâswifesgifs
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i have a feeling tommyâs so talented in bed he can make girls squirt⊠maybe a fix about that!! please and thank you!
Hi anon!! Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy <3
Messy
Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader
! Smut warning !
â> drabble <â
Tags: fingering, oral (f receiving), squirtin, praise
âTommy-â You mumbled as his head hovered between your thighs, spread gently by his large, splayed hands, veins running prominently under his skin.
âTrust me, love.â He smirked, eyes flickering briefly over your own, the heat of his breath brushing over your exposed cunt - sopping with anticipation. âYou can do that, eh?â
You certainly were capable of that, trusting his touch was no issue. You gave a clear nod of confirmation, thighs twitching beneath the possessive grip of Tommyâs fingers, spreading you apart for his taking.
âSuch a sweet fuckinâ cunt, isnât that right?â He groaned out the words, raising a single, tame brow expectantly as his mouth lingered a mere inch from where he knew you needed him most, âJust begging for me, isnât it?â
Your fingers found securely into the chair beneath you - the very same chair Tommy worked upon everyday, pinned behind his desk. Though today was different, he simply had to have you exactly where you were. And you certainly hadnât a thing to complain about.
His tongue swept against your soaked folds, stroking slowly upward, eyes set entirely on you. Instinctually, your back formed a soft arch, pushing your trembling hips against his tongue, drawing a chuckle from his lips.
âI know,â He spoke lowly, âBe patient for me.â He instructed, blatantly amused by the manner in which you pulsed against his tongue, âLet me take my time with this sweet little cunt of yours, mm?â
The taunt shot a shiver down your spine, only fuelling your arousal with the gravelly tone he spoke in. You didnât quite know if you could be patient; not if it meant being unable to touch him for much longer.
Tommy swept his tongue in small, supple circles round your clit, purposefully teasing as he flicked the tip against the swollen nerve, groaning at the mere taste of you on his lips. It was as though he completely lost himself in your taste everytime his head was buried between your legs, tongue thrusting in and out of your bare, drenched pussy.
âGive it to me, good fucking girl.â He uttered, muffled by the warmth of your cunt, snaking his palms over your ass, the silk of your skirt tickling his knuckles as he squeezed possessively beneath.
Your thighs shook a little against his jaw, struggling to maintain steadiness as his lips suckled softly at your clit, making you writhe in pleasure against his desk chair.
Your thighs twitched around his face as his lips suckled softly at your clit, making you writhe against his desk chair.
âOh my- Fuck-â
Tommy was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you; he knew what he was doing and he absolutely knew he was good at it. It didnât matter how ever many times you two were together like this, heâd always have you ruined by the end. Like a cycle - one you didnât wish to end.
His two thick, skilful fingers pressed together, tracing your pussy in time with his tongue, pushing slowly inside the sopping heat.
âGet them wet for me, thatâs right.â He encouraged, the lustful words coming out amidst a heavy groan, feeling you soak his fingertips.
A rather loud, breathy sound escaped your throat as they entered.
He thrust his tongue over your clit so very flawlessly, beginning - only gradually - to pump his fingers inside you, curling against your most sensitive spots at a teasing rate.
You allowed your head to drift back a little, eyelids fluttering like blinds over your vision as his smirk brushed your thighs. His tongue further stimulated your clit, drawn between his wet, pillowy lips occasionally as he quickened the pace of his fingers, stroking them over your g-spot.
âThere- Fuck, right there..â You mumbled, nodding desperately, harshly gripping the chair as Tommy directed his focus to the very spot you desired.
You clenched hungrily around him, squeezing his fingers tightly, never quite able to resist seeking more.
The pressure of his fingers combined with the utter pace of his tongue was driving you completely insane, making your chest rise and fall at a shallow pace. His hand, warmed and slick by your skin, caressed the curve of your ass eagerly - as if claiming it as strictly his own.
A familiar sensation possessed your stomach, winding like a tight coil as Tommy worked tirelessly against you, the feeling of a release heating within your abdomen.
âDo you feel that, sweetheart?â He muttered against you, fully conscious of the answer, âYou love the way I make you feel, hm?â
It was insatiable.
You nodded, a gentle whine fleeing your mouth as your hips bucked hungrily against the pleasure he provided. A breathy sound followed as you felt yourself near the very brink of your orgasm.
He maintained the pace of both his mouth and fingers, endlessly driven by the feeling of you trembling against him, clenching mercilessly around his thrusting fingers.
Suddenly, your orgasm struck, and he showed no intention of halting, fucking you through the intense wave of your release, fingers curling repeatedly against your g-spot. You let out a particularly loud moan, and without a morsel of warning, your arousal coated his tongue, shooting against his mouth as it sprayed down your thighs.
Your eyes couldnât resist but widen, a gasp slipping your tongue as the colourless release covered his tongue, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tasted you.
âFuck, come on my fuckinâ tongue, love, thatâs right. Feel it.â He encouraged as your breathing grew far heavier, âLet go for me.â
In utter disbelief, you allowed yourself to melt into the feeling, arousal trickling down your thighs, practically soaking your skin - it was unlike anything youâd felt before.
Tommy knew the feeling was fresh, entirely new to your senses, and he only devoured the taste more.
âOh my- Tommy..â You whimpered as you came down from the feeling, warm skin dripping with your own release. âIâve never-â
Tommy pressed his open mouth to your upper thigh, hot and slick, trailing his tongue over you, soaking up the taste. You failed miserably to steady your breath, watching his eyes burn a path to your own as he ran his thumb over your sensitive flesh.
âJust look at that.â He taunted, vacant hand utilising itself by cradling the back of your neck, thumb pressing against it as he soothed you, âShame, all over my desk chair.â He chuckled. âMade a pretty fuckinâ mess of yourself there, eh sweetheart?â
You truly had, and it was blatantly obvious Tommy was overly pleased by the event, satisfaction painting his lips as he studied your marvelling expression, âLetâs clean you up.â
Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Iâm working through a lot of requests so thank you for your patience if youâve sent one in <3
#smut#smutty#drabbles#oneshot#peaky blinders#peaky blinders smut#thomas shelby#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#anon ask#ask#request#tommy shelby#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x reader
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Maybe you could write something spicy with Tommy, where he just wakes the reader in the middle of the night cause he's needy.
Well, anon... this one was a genuine pleasure.
Sleep Vs Sex. Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.18+ Only.MDNI.
The room was enveloped in the soft, inky darkness of night when you were gently roused from your sleep by the sensation of Tommy's hands beneath your nightgown. His touch was warm and insistent, fingers tracing the delicate lines of your sides and sending shivers through your half-asleep body. You couldn't tell the exact hour, but the stillness of the night made it clear that dawn was still far off.
Mumbling sleepily, you began to turn toward him, still half-lost in the haze of your dreams. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening or ask what had stirred him, Tommy's lips descended upon yours with a fierce intensity. His kiss was fervent and demanding, silencing any questions and setting your pulse racing in an instant.
You couldn't help but smile against his lips, the taste of whiskey lingering on his breath. Tommy's kiss was a mix of desperation and passion, igniting a spark deep within you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your heart race despite your drowsiness, the intensity of his desire palpable.
"Tommy," you mumbled against his mouth, your voice barely a whisper, still heavy with sleep. His response was immediate â another kiss, deeper this time, as if he needed to convey everything he felt without uttering a single word. His hands continued their exploration, sending shivers down your spine as they traced the contours of your body beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.
Your mind was still foggy, but the intensity of his kiss was awakening every nerve in your body. You felt the warmth of his breath, the urgency in his touch, and the way his body seemed to press against yours, seeking more. His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your waist, drawing a soft gasp from your lips.
"Couldn't wait any longer," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire. His words sent a thrilling jolt through you, and you found yourself responding to his urgency. Your own hands found their way to his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.
Tommy's hands trailed down your sides with purpose, the rough pads of his fingers contrasting with the delicate softness of your skin. His touch was electrifying, each caress sending a shiver of anticipation through you. As his hands reached the hem of your panties, he began to massage your folds over the thin silk, the friction creating a delicious blend of pleasure and anticipation. The fabric was smooth against your sensitive skin, heightening every sensation. You could feel the heat of his touch through the silk, his fingers skilled and deliberate as they explored your most intimate area.
Your breath hitched as his fingers found your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He rubbed slow, deliberate circles, the silk adding an extra layer of friction. Your hips instinctively arched towards him, seeking more of his touch.
"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl that sent a thrill straight to your core. His words only intensified your arousal, your body responding eagerly to his every touch.
Finally, his fingers slipped beneath the silk, making direct contact with your slick folds. His touch was overwhelming, both gentle and insistent as he explored you. He spread your lips apart, his fingers gliding through your wetness before finding their way back to your clit, circling it with a firm, steady pressure that made you moan.
"Tommy," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. His touch was driving you wild, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving with a rhythm that had your body writhing beneath him.
As his fingers delved deeper, slipping inside you, you felt a rush of intense pleasure. He moved with a deliberate, steady pace, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot within you with every thrust. The sensation was exquisite, your body tightening around him as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.
"Come for me," he whispered, his voice rough and commanding. His thumb found your clit again, adding to the overwhelming pleasure as he continued to thrust his fingers inside you. The combination of sensations was too much to bear, and with a cry of his name, you felt yourself shatter, your orgasm crashing over you in wave after wave of intense pleasure.
Tommy's fingers slowed but didn't stop, drawing out your climax as your body trembled and pulsed around him. When you finally came down from your high, he withdrew his hand, his touch gentle and soothing as he pulled you close.
As you lay there, still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, Tommy's hands moved with a possessive gentleness. With a swift, fluid motion, he rolled you onto your stomach. The cool sheets beneath contrasted sharply with the heat of your skin, sending another shiver through your already sensitive body.
You felt the bed shift slightly as Tommy positioned himself above you, his strong, muscular frame pressing you deeper into the mattress. The sensation of his weight on top of you was grounding, yet exhilarating. His hands slid down your sides, fingers trailing lightly over your skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. Each touch was a reminder of his control and your surrender, intensifying the anticipation.
You could feel his arousal, hot and insistent, pressing against the curve of your backside. The sheer proximity made your breath hitch, a fresh wave of desire pooling between your thighs. His hardness brushed against your entrance, teasingly, the sensation maddening and tantalising all at once.
Tommy leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. "Do you want this?" he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl that reverberated through you, igniting every nerve ending.
"More than anything," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I need you."
With a satisfied hum, he continued to tease you, his tip sliding against your slick folds, making you gasp and squirm beneath him. The anticipation built with every slow, deliberate movement, your body aching for him to finally take you.
"Please," you whimpered, your hips instinctively pushing back against him, seeking more. You could feel his smile against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his breath hot and heavy, sending a thrill through you.
Finally, he began to push inside you, the slow, delicious stretch making you moan. He filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming as he buried himself to the hilt. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his hands gripping your hips firmly, grounding you in the moment.
"You're mine," he whispered, his voice rough with desire, a possessive edge that sent a shiver of pleasure through you. He began to move, each thrust deep and deliberate, his pace steady but relentless. The feeling of him inside you, the pressure and the pleasure, was nearly too much to bear, each movement sending waves of ecstasy radiating through you.
Your fingers gripped the sheets, knuckles white with the intensity of your grip, your body rocking in perfect synchrony with Tommy's movements. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure radiating through you. You could feel every inch of him, every deliberate stroke, as he drove deeper inside you, his rhythm unrelenting.
Tommy's hands were everywhere, roaming your body with a possessive hunger. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair before pulling your head back slightly, exposing the vulnerable curve of your neck to his lips. The feeling made you gasp, the slight tug on your hair sending a delicious thrill down your spine.
His breath was hot and ragged against your ear as he whispered, "You feel so good, love. So tight around me." His words were a seductive growl, each syllable dripping with raw desire. The sound of his voice, combined with the relentless pace of his thrusts, sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. Your body responded eagerly, every nerve ending alive with pleasure.
He increased his pace, each thrust harder, deeper, more urgent. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, a symphony of shared desire and passion. Your moans and gasps mingled with his, creating a chorus of ecstasy. You could feel the tension coiling tightly inside you once more, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.
"Tommy," you moaned, your voice breaking with need and desperation. His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you back against him with each powerful thrust, driving deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made stars explode behind your closed eyelids.
"That's it, love," he growled, his voice rough, a primal edge to his tone. "Come for me. I want to feel you." His words were a command and a plea all at once, pushing you right to the edge.
The world shattered around you as his words pushed you over the brink. Your body arched, muscles tensing and quivering as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Your cries filled the room, your body trembling uncontrollably with the intensity of your release. The pleasure was all-consuming, every wave of your climax crashing through you like a tidal wave.
Tommy followed soon after, a low moan escaping his lips as he found his own release. You felt him tense, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled inside you, filling you with his warmth. The sensation of him pulsing within you, combined with your own release, sent aftershocks of pleasure through your already sensitive body.
For a few moments, you both stayed like that, entangled, catching your breath, your bodies still intimately connected. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the aftermath of your shared ecstasy still lingering in the air.
Then, with a gentle, almost reluctant motion, Tommy pulled out of you, rolling to the side and gathering you into his arms. His touch was tender now, a stark contrast to the raw passion from moments before. His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses to your sweaty skin, each touch a promise of his affection.
"You're incredible," he murmured, his voice soft and full of genuine admiration. You smiled, a warm, contented feeling spreading through you as you nestled closer to him, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against your back.
"And you're insatiable," you replied with a sleepy laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. Tommy chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made your heart swell with love. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin, each touch calming and reassuring.
"Only for you," he said, his voice a tender promise that wrapped around you like a blanket. The warmth of his words, combined with the comfort of his embrace, filled you with a profound sense of contentment. As you drifted back into a peaceful sleep, safe in his arms, you felt the world fade away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of your love and shared passion.
#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinder fanfic#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby imagine#fanfiction requests#tommy shelby request
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Hey đ if your still taking requests for the peakys. Could I please ask for Alfie Solomons with A "ask me to stay" and D "dark secret" female reader. Thanks đđ
A/n: that's a wrap on Peaky Blinders requests from June!!! thx to all the lovelies who participated <3
The Wall Between Them - Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2362 Content warnings: Domestic violence, reader murders the abuser, abuse, violence, blood/gore, protective Alfie, can't-be-vulnerable Alfie, trying-his-best Alfie, hints of soft!Alfie?
Her hands shook so violently it was a wonder she didnât drop the pistol. If anyone had been watching the scene before them, they would have credited a guardian angel for guiding the bullet straight to his chest despite the treacherous wobble of the gun. Her eyes were closed when she pulled the trigger, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the blood from her mouth.Â
He fell like a sack of bricks. One minute he was lunging towards her, eyes trained on the pistol. A cold fear seized his heart as he saw the terror in her gaze melt away to black rage. All those whiskey beatings, harsh words and hateful years had backfired on him. Then, in the next instant, he died to the ear-splitting sound of a gunshot.Â
The silence that followed was so loud she swore it would crush her. The walls around her seemed to be holding their breath. Was he really dead? Did she really pull the trigger?Â
She didnât let herself exhale until she saw a pool of blood - darker than sheâd imagined it would be - staining the floorboards underneath him. She dropped the pistol; it landed with a heavy thud at her feet moments before her knees folded on themselves as if made of twigs. She pitched sideways, letting the hallway wall brace her fall as she deflated under the weight of realization. She knew in that moment that it didnât matter how many times heâd hit her. The ghastly bruises and scars heâd left etched in her skin, the nights her mind had divorced itself from her battered body and wandered the halls like a ghost, the mangled monster heâd grown into⊠none of it mattered. All that others would see was a dead husband and a living wife with motive, means, and a guilty conscience. Even dead, that horrid man was imprisoning her.
She knew there was only one person who could get her out of this. And so, she wiped the blood from her rapidly swelling lip, picked up the pistol and slipped it into the deep pocket of her apron, and tied up the escaped strands of hair. It had been almost seven years since sheâd seen Alfie Solomons, but she still knew exactly where to find him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
âBoss, thereâs a lady here to see you.âÂ
Alfie barely heard Jackâs murmured comment above the jeer of the crowd. The Irishman was swaying unsteadily on his feet in the pen after taking a nasty round of hits to his right ear. Alfie could see his ear filling with blood. A busted eardrum, likely. Circling opposite him, the burly Hungarian Alfie knew as The Red Devil was snarling proudly as he surveyed his quarry.Â
âFuckinâ finish him!â Alfie called out, lifting a wad of bills in the air like a signal fire. The fight was fixed of course, and Alfie had fixed it. The Red Devil was turning into quite a lucrative investment, but his penchant for theatrics was tiring to Alfie. He preferred a quick win, efficient and clean.Â
âBoss?â Jack edged slightly closer, waiting for Alfieâs orders.
âHm?â
âA lady, boss. Thereâs a lady here to see you. Asked for you by name.â
âDidnât book a whore tonight,â Alfie replied simply, waving Jack off as The Red Devil moved in on the Irishman, holding the dazed manâs head as he drove his knee up into the exposed forehead until the bell rang to signal the end of the fight. The crowd erupted into a mix of appreciative cheers, boos, and cries to settle up or place new bets as another pair of fighters moved to the edge of the pen.Â
âDonât think sheâs a whore, boss. Looks like a respectable lady. Bit beat up though.âÂ
Alfie fixed Jack with an incredulous stare. He wasnât accustomed to his men pressing him on trivial issues like this. Especially not on a fight night. Jack flinched imperceptibly; he was well-acquainted with Alfieâs anger and bore a nasty half-moon scar the framed his left eye from being pistol-whipped after pressing Alfieâs limits. Alfie almost moved to strike him, until something about Jackâs words and the odd look in his eyes plucked at something.Â
âShe give a name?â
Jack shook his head, eyes glued to the ground. âNo. All she said was you were olâ friends. Childhood friends, I think she said.â
It couldnât be. Alfie shook his head as if trying to shake out the thought. But, then again, there was only one person heâd ever met whoâd claim him as a friend.Â
âBeat up, you say?â
Jack nodded. âLipâs split and she got a shiner.â
A memory flickered across Alfieâs mind. He hadnât seen her in years, but the last time he had, sheâd had a ring of purple and green bruises around her neck. Sheâd tried to hide it under a high collar dress, but Alfie had her pressed up against the wall of his office, their lips devouring each other, and he hadnât missed the way she winced when he let his hand slide down the side of her neck on its way to undo the line of buttons at the front of her dress. He knew whoâd done it and didnât need her to say a damn thing. If she hadnât begged him on her knees - her goddamn knees - to spare that pathetic manâs life, Alfie Solomons would have gutted him nice and slow.Â
He hadnât seen her since. Sheâd stopped writing, stopped answering her own front door, stopped going to the butcher shop below where Alfie kept a small apartment. Heâd had her on every surface of that apartment, rabid with hunger for anything sheâd give him. Then sheâd just vanished. Told him she was due to be married, couldnât carry on with him anymore. Alfie knew thereâd been a silent request buried in her words. Heâd heard her ask it with her eyes. Ask me to marry you, and Iâll leave him. Alfie cursed himself every day for letting that moment slip by like water on rocks. He wasnât any closer to figuring out how to love someone now then he was back then, but in his quiet moments he wondered if maybe he could have figured it out with her, if only heâd been willing to take that chance.
âBoss? Boss, what do you want me to tell âer?âÂ
The sound of the bell announcing the start of another match jarred Alfie loose from his reminiscences.Â
âNothinâ. Iâll talk to âer.â
Jack eyed him with surprise, but quickly smoothed the spark of interest out of his features rather than risk another scar from his mercurial boss. Heâd never known Alfie Solomons to pause his dealings for a woman. Something about her must have been special. Jack followed his boss out of the smoky, cacophonous warehouse and towards the back of the building where Alfie kept his offices.Â
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Alfie felt his fingers dig into the wood of his desk as she stepped out of the shadowy corner of his office and into the soft halo glow of his desk lamp. Her lip was split, blood dried on her chin, and one of her luminous eyes was swollen shut. Murder ripped through Alfieâs blood at the sight of her.Â
âBefore you say anything, Alfie, heâs dead.â
Her voice sounded different, thin and strained, like someone had scooped out her soul leaving nothing but an echo behind.
âHe sure fuckinâ is.â Alfie was shaking he was so bloodthirsty. He couldnât look at her and risk losing himself. How could it still be so fresh, he wondered, after seven long years?
âNo, thatâs not what I meant⊠Alfie, I-, I killed him. I shot him.â
A different man might have been horrified, or maybe even a little impressed. Alfie was none of that. Instead, he felt himself pitch forward over the lip of a hole of despair.Â
His voice cracked when he ordered Jack and the rest of the boys out of the office. Once the door closed behind them, she sank down into one of the leather-backed chairs across the desk from him. Desperate to be close to her lest she splinter to pieces, Alfie rounded the desk to perch against its edge, stretching his long legs away from her in an attempt to give her space. She hardly looked up at him.Â
âWhat did he fuckinâ do to you?â Barely more than a whisper. Alfie was glad the light was too dim for her to see that he was treacherously close to tears.
She looked up at him, shocked. Her one good eye gleamed at him.Â
âAlfie, did you hear me? I killed him.â
He nodded, swallowing thickly. Alfie was full of tender urges and gentle feelings, but his mouth couldnât seem to give them words or noise. All he knew was harshness and violence. It was the same wall that had kept him from reaching out for her hand and telling her all the things he felt the last night heâd seen her. Here he was, so close he could smell her lavender soap but his affection locked away so tightly and deeply that he couldnât force himself to touch it even if he tried.
âNothinâ he didnât deserve,â he grunted brusquely after a few moments. He dropped his gaze, unable to tolerate the sight of her face bruised and misshapen. He noticed her hands were trembling in her lap. âWhat do you need, darlinâ?â
She stifled a small sob at the sound of the pet name heâd reserved for her.Â
âHeâs still-... the body, I- I donât know⊠I guess-â
âItâs done. Write down your address.â Alfie handed her a pen and paper, watched as she struggled to mark the street name and number legibly. Her knuckles were bruised, he noted with a twisted pang of pride and pain. Sheâd been fighting back, he realized. All alone these last seven years. And heâd let her. Heâd stopped fighting to get to her. Let her close herself off to him. Let himself close off to her. And now, it wasnât until sheâd been pushed to the brink - maybe past it - that sheâd come to him, and only because she knew that when violence and darkness was needed, Alfie could do it. But he couldnât do the other things, the harder things. Like love her, protect her, tirelessly fight for her.Â
She tore off the page and handed it to Alfie. He took it without looking at the writing, strode over the door and excused himself from the office. He thrust the paper into Jackâs hands.Â
âTake care of it, Jackie. No loose ends, you hear me? Iâll fuckinâ rip you limb from limb if it ainât done right.âÂ
He didnât give Jack or the others time to argue or ask questions before he slammed the door as a dismissal and strode back to her. He reached for her, needing to feel her warmth under his fingertips just to prove she was here. She flinched instinctively, sending Alfie deeper into self-loathing.
âDo they know-â
âItâs done, darlinâ. Itâs taken care of.âÂ
Alfie poured himself a glass of whiskey, drunk it down in one gulp, and poured another.Â
âAlfieâŠâÂ
Her voice was so soft and yearning it broke Alfie in two. He turned to face her. Gods she looked perfect.Â
âIt ainât fuckinâ happeninâ again.â The most solemn promise heâd ever made.Â
She recoiled from him as if slapped. It took him a half moment to process why.Â
âI ainât lettinâ anyone hurt you. Ever again, you hear me? Iâll fuckinâ burn the world and every hateful man with it, it donât matter.â It was all Alfie could find the words to say.Â
Finally understanding his meaning, he watched her relax in the chair. She eyed him without saying a thing, a strange expression on her face.Â
âI donât want that, Alfie,â she replied softly. âI donât want any more death. I donât want to see someone hurt ever again. I just⊠I just wantâŠâÂ
Her words trailed off into the quiet. Neither of them knew where the end of that sentence would lead. The space between them stretched and morphed until it felt like an ocean separating them. Strange, that two people who both wanted so desperately to be with each other could feel so far away.
âDonât set any fires on my account, Alfie.â She rose from her chair and walked towards him, taking the glass out of Alfieâs hand and downing the whiskey with a wince. âJust ask me to stay.âÂ
Alfie felt his heart run headlong into that same old wall that always kept them apart. Here she was, the only woman whoâd ever mattered, literally giving him the words she wanted to hear. And all that Alfieâs tongue wanted to say was more promises of vengeance, of violence in her name, of destruction.Â
She watched him struggle, her gaze even but tired.Â
âAsk me to stay, Alfie. Thatâs all I need.â
The openness those words threatened to expose in Alfie Solomons felt like a lit bomb nestled in the cage of his ribs. He choked on the air in his lungs. Come on, you fucker, he thought viciously as he struggled to press back on the urge to run.Â
She watched and waited. Each moment, her shoulders sagged a bit more.
âStay.â
It wasnât exactly what she wanted, and Alfie spat the word out as if it had poison between its letters. But was it close enough?Â
Her heart thought so. She felt a softness take root there, a shred of hope.Â
Yes, it was enough.Â
She gave Alfie Solomons a soft smile. The way he crumbled at the sight told her enough about his feelings for her. Even if he couldnât put them into words, she could see the love that she was so desperate to excavate from wherever he stored away the fragile parts of himself.
âThatâs enough,â she told him sweetly, lifting a hand to cradle the side of his face. For the first time in seven years, she let herself relax into a manâs touch as Alfieâs fingers found hersâŠ
#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders requests#peaky blinders fanfic#alfie solomons x you#alfie solomons x y/n#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons fanfic#alfie solomons imagine#tom hardy x you#tom hardy x reader
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Smutty blurb idea:
Youâve been begging for attention all day and Tommy finally gives it to you with facesitting and overstim đ„ș
đ«Ąđ«Ąđ«Ą havenât written for Tommy in AGES!! Enjoy x this turned into a bit more than a blurb lol
Attention
Warnings: contains overstimulation, light sim/sub dynamics, facesitting, oral sex,fem!reader
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader
You had read the same paragraph of your novel about six times now, and âreadâ was being generous; rather, you had skimmed over the print, the words blurring and muddling as your eyes drifted to your husband, Tommy.
It really wasnât fair, the way he sat at his desk, shirtless, smoking and sipping his whisky as he scanned over his paperwork.
Watching the way his muscles twitched as he moved, you let out a longing sigh, but Tommy had made it quite clear that he had to sort through his paperwork before giving you any form of attention- and he had warned you not to be a brat. Brats donât get any attention at all.
As the clock crawled forward another half hour, you closed your book, setting it aside as you admired your husband.
âWhat?â He said, feeling your gaze burn through him.
âOh nothing,â you said, leaning forward slightly. âJust admiring my husband, and willing him to hurry up so he can ravish me,â
Tommy cracked a small smirk. âIâm almost done, love,â he said gently, knowing how work often got in the way of pleasure.
**
True to his word, Tommy was pulling you upstairs ten minutes later, and you couldnât keep the grin off your face.
Entering the bedroom, you made to get on the bed, but tommy grabbed your wrist. âGet undressed,â he told you, his hands already coming to the buttons of your blouse as he pressed kisses to your neck.
Your blouse fluttered to the floor, soon followed by your skirt, stockings, bra, and finally, underwear. âThere she is,â Tommy hummed, his knuckle tracing the outline of your body. Goosebumps sprung under his touch, and you leaned into the hot firmness of his chest.
âHow do you want me?â You breathed, not caring if he wanted you from the front of from behind, so long as he just took you.
âOn top,â Tommy smirked, shucking down to his boxers and laying down, head propped against the plump pillows. You nodded, waiting for him to lay down, before moving to straddle his hips. âNot like that, love,â he said, and you cocked your head to the side. You had tried reverse cowgirl a handful of times, but it wasnât your go to: Tommy liked to grasp and slap and suck at your tits, and you liked to bury your head into his neck as he lifted your hips up and down. But still, reverse cowgirl gave him the opportunity to pay attention to your arse, slapping and grabbing it. You began turning around, but tommy grabbed onto your hip. âNo⊠up here, YN,â he said, and he grinned at your confusion. âCome sit on my face,â
Your face went from confusion to shock, your mouth forming a perfect âoâ shape. Of course, Tommy had licked you out countless times before, and you had sat on his face a few times- but they were mostly so that you could suck his cock at the same time. It had been ages since he had you ride his face.
âCome on, love⊠thought youâve been waiting for some attention all day,â you bit your lip for a moment, before shuffling up towards his face, straddling his head.
Tommy groaned lowly at the sight of your cunt, just hovering above his face. Despite your hesitation, it was clear to him that you were desperate for his attention, in more ways than one. Fed up with your hesitation, he grasped your thighs, fingers squeezing at your arse, and pulled you towards his mouth.
As his tongue darted out to lick and suck at your clit, trailing up your slit as he lapped at your wetness. Your hands flew to the headboard as your hips bucked, rutting against his face. Shyness dissipated as hot, addictive pleasure flooded your being, and your cries of pleasure muddled with the lewd slurping between your legs, filling the room as Tommy brought you over the edge.
Your hips jolted and shuddered in his hands as you rode out your high, grinding against his tongue. But Tommy did not relent, and as you began shaking and whimpering and squirming away from him, he grasped your thighs tighter, holding you firmly to his face. He was openly moaning into your cunt now, his nose nudging your oversensitive clit as his tongue prodded into your cunt, drinking in your release like it was his lifeline.
âTom,â you gasped, âThomas!â One hand grasped at his hair, your nails scratching into his scalp. ââS too much,â you moaned, but your body betrayed you, hips continuing to circle against his mouth. âGonna- tommy-fuck! Gonna come again,â you cried, and tommy moved to suck firmly on your clit, pushing you screaming over the edge once more.
Tommy drew one more orgasm out of your overworked cunt, and if your head wasnât addled with pleasure, youâd have been embarrassed with how quickly you came. Slowly, almost unwillingly, tommy moved you up from his face, helping you lay down as he moved on top of you. âYou okay?ïżœïżœ He asked, and you stared up at him, smiling dumbly as you nodded. âGood,â tommy smirked, his hand trailing between your legs, making you squirm. âBecause Iâm not done yet,â
#tommy shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x reader#tommy Shelby x reader smut#Thomas Shelby x you#tommy Shelby x you#peaky blinders oneshot#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders fic#peaky blinders smut#request
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Omg pleeeease I need a dark/angsty Tommy fic where he ends up hurting the reader? Like an argument gets too heated and he ends up slapping her or something. Like maybe she was flirting and dancing a bit too much with someone at a party theyâre hosting and he gets jealous and drags her to their room, then they start arguing and he gets so enraged that he basically sees red and absolutely slaps the hell out of her (some non con/dub con smut after as well???). Just need some heavy, dark, possessive, violent, scary/mean Tommy Shelby đ« The darker the better lol
Warnings: noncon, p in v + anal, physical abuse, degradation, threats with a gun, some blood play, misogyny, name calling
Hope you enjoy! Thank you!
Tommy watched from afar, seeing you and Ada drunk, giggling like a bunch of school girls at a table filled with men. He may not be able to control his sister but his wife was another subject. People were beginning to stare, especially the men Tommy needed on his good side for now. The dress you were wearing was skin tight, your panties just barely showing through the thin black fabric.Â
Tonight was a prestige dinner with delegates that Shelby Limited was in talks for business deals. The plan was too conversate, find weak spots, understand the patterns of movements, but the only thing Tommy was focused on was you, a long with every other man.
Even Arthur made a remark, a statement that angered Tommy even more. âY/Nâs quite the appeal tonight isnât she?â Arthur chuckled, taking someoneâs glass of whiskey and finishing it himself.
âWhat are you talking about?â
âLook at her, need to cherish her better brother before another man makes a move.â That was it, that was enough. When Tommy slammed his glass down and started to walk away Arthur pulled him back, pleading and convincing Tommy to just allow you to have fun for a night but he wouldnât listen. Frowning, Arthur returned to the table, grabbing another drink whilst Tommy tried to keep his compusure. Greeting and checking in with the guests before approaching your flailing, inebriated body.
Three tradesman of London were in attendance, the blatant look of disgust from where they stood at the bookcase, giving your husband a look of disapproval before carrying on in conversation.
âTommy! My husband, come here!â When you attempted to pull him down by the sleeve of his expensive suit, he pulled back, tucking his hands in his pockets, giving you a stern expression that told you to follow him.
Pouting, you crossed your arms, rolling your eyes annoyed, picking up a bottle of champagne before walking away with him, making flirtatious remarks to random men as you wobbled away until you were in the master bedroom.
Closing the door, you fell onto the floor laughing in a disarray of emotions, your vision blurry and your eyes dilated. Tommy pulled the nearly empty bottle from your hands, tossing it into the corner of the room before grabbing your wrist forcing you up onto your feet.
âWhat the fuck are you doing, eh? Are you stupid, is that it? You know how important tonight is and you go and fucking wreck it, bidding yourself off to other men when you are a married, taken woman.â
âRelax Tommy, weâre just having fun. What the boys can do whatever they damn well please but because of whatâs between my legs Iâm expected to just be formal, elegant?â Tommy looked at you with expecting eyes, not understanding where the confusion is. There were important men here tonight and seeing you galavanting around like some whore and being incoherently drunk made his blood boil.Â
Biting dowm on his tongue and locking his jaw, he pointed with dictation, sapphire eyes raging with fire as he seethed out the following words.
âYes. Itâs that fucking simple. You canât even fucking stand up straight.â Scoffing, you tiptoed around the room, holding onto the dresser to keep your warm, sweating body from falling. The room was spinning but that didnât change the anger from the double standard that was always set against you. You hadnât thought before speaking, the words simply sputtering out what youâve held in.
âYou should be thanking me for flirting with them, without me youâd have nothing. Iâm simply the means to an end to the shit deals you canât make on your own.â
Tommy cut you off with the back of his hand slapping across your cheek ferociously, silencing you for good. Grabbing for the bruising skin, you looked back at your husband in shock and fear. Heâs never, ever layed a hand on you.
When you ran for the door, he was faster, shoving the wooden object closed with his hand and yanking you back by the strands of your hair, pushing you carelessly onto the bed.
His hands tightened around your wrists as he shoved his hardened member upward against your mound.
âIâd have nothing eh? Iâll show you what itâs like to be treated like youâre nothing.âÂ
Screaming hysterically, you wept as Tommy ripped the expensive gown, exposing the bare, delicate skin of your thighs. Hitting and fighting against his chest to push him away, he simply lifted his hand, slapping you harshly once more to stop the whining.Â
You pressed your hand gently against your temple, a headache forming in the core of your mind from the impactful blow.Â
Hearing the buckle of his belt, you panicked but were too weak to defend yourself from the man who claimed to be your husband.
âMaybe if you had just listened and werenât a fucking whore tonight we wouldnât be in this postion. Someoneâs forgotten their place eh?â Pushing the thin laced fabric of your panties aside, he thrusted upward, letting his thick length penetrate you without any lube. Writhing and seething in pain below him, tears prickled at your eyes, not recognizing who was staring at you anymore.
Spitting at his face, he smiled slyly, a dark twisted grin bellowing at what you had done.
Returning the favor he spat back, hitting you once more with a forceful, strong slap that echoed through the room and knocked out your hearing in one ear.
âDonât forget sweetheart. I own you, youâre my property.â Wrapping his hands around your throat, you struggled for air as he drilled into your dry cunt, shredding open the sensitive skin like a grater would cheese. Blood slowly leaked out from your pussy, the ability to scream non existent as your airway was constricted, bruising as his nails dug into your skin.
When your hands reached up to try to push him away from your neck, desperate for air, he shed himself of his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists tightly to the headboard and shoved his underwear in your mouth.Â
Slapping your cunt repeatedly, he mocked your whimpers, feeling your walls slowly start to produce your sweet syrup against your will.
âHow pathetic, is this what you wanted? Someone likes me cock, who knew my wife was a little fucking whore.â Screeching beneath the makeshift gag, your skin seethed in pain, wanting nothing more for this to be over.
His hands grasped at your breasts, tugging and pulling at your nipples, smitten by how easily your body gave in to him.Â
Flipping you over onto your stomach, he spread your ass cheeks, pulling the fatty skin apart finding that tight, untouched hole youâd been denying him for so many years, now he was going to take it for himself.
There was nowhere for you to go, your eyes searched, panicked looking for anything to get you out of these bindings, but there was nothing.Â
Aligning himself with your taint, you could feel the rounded head of his shaft resting at your virgin entrance. Every bone and muscle in your violated body tensed when his head pushed through your strained, congested walls. You screamed in agony as he wasted no time burying himself balls deep in your taint.
âOh fuckâŠDidnât know you could feel this good love. My little slave, that ass devouring me cock. About time I reminded you of your place. Nothing but a slut, a mere stupid little bitch.â He moaned in between thrusts as he fucked your anus, pounding your ass up and down on his shaft while holding the cheeks of your ass roughly. The sporadic pain was different than your pussy, far more intensified. It didnât feel like stinging anymore, the size of his penis sent flames of fire through your hole. Â
When he buried his neck into the crook of your neck while he continued to pump relentlessly into you. You fumbled with the bindings while he wasnât paying attention.Â
Realessing a choked sob, you were on the verge of being free, fidgeting with the tight knot with a tremendous effort, working over the fabric through the tears and painful agony, but you werenât as smooth as you thought. Tommyâs hand shot up, slamming down on yours and pulled you arms behind your back, causing the gag to fall out in the process.
âHelp! Help! Ah-â Striking you in the back of your waeay head, he shoved his fingers between your lips, invading your mouth and pulling at the sides of your lips.
âShut the fuck up. Listen to me, are you listening sweetheart?â You whimpered through his fingers, nodding your head, squeezing your eyes closed in a pained expression when he thrusted his cock violently with a force of strength and dominance.
âNo one is coming to your rescue, you belong to me, and I have the right to use and abuse my property all I want and you will listen, or suffer the consequences as you are right now. Get up.â Tommy pulled you onto his lap, reinserting his lengthy shaft into your soaking wet walls. You mewled from the discomfort, struggling to make eye contact with Tommy.Â
His lips connected to your hardened nipples, biting down on the flesh harshly, aiming to draw blood. Slapping you across the face once again, your head whipped to the other side fiercly.
âRide me. Go on, you claim to be so great in bed to those men out there. Canât treat your husband the same?â Another backhand, before his hand gripped the fat of your ass cheeks, slamming you up and down on his cock, an immense joy curdling within him from seeing your pathetic tears.
Then an idea struck you, if youâr just get him off surely heâd let you go. A satisfied grin spread across his face when you began to rotate your hips, staring slowly at first before picking up speeding.Â
âAh, fuck, thatâs it love. Show me what that worthless cunt can do.â You continued to whine and whimper as you rode his cock, your ass landing on his thighs with each powerful bounce, your breasts flying up and down for his amusement.
You could feel him begin to pulsate, he was close, very close.
Arching your back, Tommy focused in on your pussy devouring his lengthy member with each pivotal motion of your hips. Your walls tightened, constricting his length, and within seconds his seed was filling your tortured void, flooding into your ovaries.
At that moment you moved as fast as lightning, taking the lamp and smashing it over his head to try to escape his bitter soul. Rushing to put clothes on, you ran to the door, thinking that someone would help you but Tommy wasnât weak and you were nowhere nearly as strong as him. He was quick to recover, but not as quick as you. Throwing on a nightshirt and slipping on the closest thing to work as underwear, you opened the door just nearly out when Tommy pulled on his pants, rolling over the bed and running, rushing toward you, slamming the door closed once again.Â
You punched the door in defeat, frightened to turn around until he forced you to, pulling out something youâd never thought heâd use as a threat to you.
âIf you think I am playing some sort of sick game, you are sadly mistaken sweetheart. Now get back on the fucking bed, youâve done enough tonight.â Removing the safety, he pointed the gun directly on the middle of your forehead, the cool metal barrel sending chills down your spine. Is this what your marriage had come to? How were you supposed to move forward from this catastrophic night? Surely people would notice the bruises but then again, no one ever questioned Tommy Shelby, not anyone that gave a shit about their life.
Surrendering you rose your arms, the shaking of your trembling hands visible. The man facing you, you no longer recognized. There was no guilt, or shame, or any type of love present in those venomous, frigid eyes, he really wasnât joking. Making your way back to the bed, you tucked your head onto the pillow, weeping relentlessly into the case of the feathered object. Tommy layed the gun down on the table, taking a seat beside you. You flinched away from his cold, heartless touch, terrified of what was to come next.
âI need to go back and entertain our guests. You stay here and be good. Can you do that?â He twisted your labia, pinching the sensitive skin, causing you a tremendous amount of pain, reminding you what could happen if you donât listen.
Nodding with fearful, tired eyes, you watched as Tommy dressed himself, and stayed in your fragile position on the soiled sheets, eventually crying yourself to sleep in the dark room.
#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#ranaewrites#peaky blinders#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagine#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#requested
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The Storm That Heals Us~ Tommy Shelby x Cancer patient!Reader: Angst
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warning: Triggering topic such as cancer
Word Count: 1,223
Summary: Tommy's wife is diagnosed with cancer and tries to hide it from him because they have a rocky marriage
This was requested by anon a while back. I hope it is okay. I don't do well with the topic of cancer
Weâve only been married a year. They say three is a lucky number. I was supposed to be the lucky number. But truth be told, nothing about our marriage had been lucky. In the midst of all his darkness, I was convinced he married me for emotional convenience. But when Tommy Shelby found out I wasnât going to be walked on or over, we started fighting more. A hot head and one who hates to be wrong. Itâs a bit tricky to figure out which one of us is which. Perhaps we are the same person and that is why we suck together.Â
But that is not why itâs unlucky number three. Just last month I was bathing, feeling the warm soapy water encasing my body. When I dragged the sponge over my right breast, something seemed off. Something seemed tender and bruised. Quickly, I threw the sponge in water and felt around with my hand. There was a small lump, but nonetheless a lump. If I was anyone else, I would have assumed a pimple or swollen hair follicle, but Iâm not anyone else. Itâs the family curse. My great grandmother, my grandmother, my two aunts, and my mother have all found the lump. Thankfully for my mother, she was able to get it treated. But I am doomed for bad luck. Thatâs what Tommy tells me everytime something happens. âYou have that fookinâ luckâŠthat bad luck.âÂ
As soon I found that fucking lump, I went to the doctor only to get confirmation of what I already knew. I hate to say that the first thing that left my mouth was, âhow long?â But the doctor sighed. They always sigh.Â
He told me, âWell, itâs small. Weâll remove it and do some radiation treatment-â
âAnd lose my hair?â I also hate to say that was the second question, but Tommy loves my hair. Sometimes I think what he loves about me is thinning with each day. Â
I never told Tommy about the procedure, and one night, when he went to run his hand over my body, I stopped him. It was as if I was repulsed by him. Just as I knew, Tommy didnât take very kindly to my refusal. He sat up, looking at me before saying, âis this how our marriage is going to be now?â We sat side by side, under the covers on the bed. He replaced my breast in lieu of a cigarette.
âI donât feel well,â I said, and his response made my blood boil.Â
âYou never feel well anymore,â he said. âIâm starting to think itâs me. Perhaps we should discuss something that will make you feel better.â There was always a tone of threat. He dealt with his lovers as he did his business partners.Â
That was it for that night.Â
Which brings me to now. The bathroom floor feels cold against my clammy body. I puked up my dinner which was nothing, but a few biscuits and a glass of milk. Milk is a no-no for my new stomach, Iâve learned. But as Iâm on this bathroom floor, I realize. I realize that Tommy will know. He will figure it out. My body will thin out, Iâll be bruised, and my cheeks will sink in. Nevermind my hair that is already falling out in clumps. As I hear his footsteps approach, I try to gather myself to save face, but moving just makes it worse. My body feels like itâs on a merry go round, and I cling to the toilet once more. At this point, as I feel the burning acid climb up my insides, I donât know what I am throwing up. It is a clear bile.Â
As I am hunched over, Tommy walks in and asks, âare you pregnant?â Oh, how easy that would have been.Â
I turn to him, face pale. I could see myself in the mirror. My eyes look sunken with heavy bags. âNo.â
He sighs. âHave you seen a doctor?â he asks like I am dumb.
Iâm blunt. âYes.â
âWell?â he presses, coming inward, leaning on the bathroom vanity, puffing on his smoke. Always a smoke. Before I can answer him, I beg him to put it out.
âThe smell, Tommy-â
âHow far along are you?â he asks, disregarding the fact I told him Iâm not pregnant. âFunny enough, love, we havenât fucked in two months. Every night I wait for your comfort. Perhaps youâre going elsewhere for it-â
âIâm not pregnant, Tommy.â My head is boiling at this point and I feel my temper on the verge. I sit up, resting against the toilet, trying to catch my breath. Heâs not convinced, I can see it in his face. How heâs half ignoring me.Â
âYou know,â he starts, pointing a finger my way. âI do fuckinâ love you. You married me, thought you understood the way I am-â
âTommy,â I plead, closing my eyes. âPlease.â But he goes on and on about how I betrayed his trust, but he still loves me and wants to work through whatever it is.Â
âBut that fuckinâ baby is going-â
âIâm not fuckinâ pregnant!â I yell at him in a tone I never dared to before. It was enough for him to get a bit startled. He is about to say something else when I say, âI found a lump on my right breast.â Tommy pauses mid-smoke, and looks over at me, eyes knitted. âA few weeks ago, maybe a month ago nowâŠI donât know. They ran a test-â
âYou never told me,â he says in this low, depressing whisper that makes me feel like every problem in the world is my fault. Tommy finds his way to the bath basin and sits on the edges. He throws his lit smoke in the sink and runs his fingers through his hair. âAnd you never thought to tell me?â
âI didnât want it to be another burden-â
âWhat?â He turns to me, face like a ghost. He slides to the marble flooring next to me. He doesnât say anything. He doesnât have to. I feel him tenderly grab me by the face, placing me in his lap. His chin rests on my head. âFuckinâ âell, love, IâmâŠlove, you should have told me?â This was the Tommy I met and agreed to marry. The one who is tender and loving, smooth talking and sweet. I twist in his lap and his hand rests on my cheek. âIâm scared to ask-â
âItâs early enough,â I say, nodding, swallowing the lump down. âBut it doesnât feel any better-â
âNo, no it doesnât,â he agrees, leaning down to place a kiss on my forehead. âGod, love, I love you so much. And I justâŠI've been so selfish. From now, you and I are going to go through this together-â
âTommy, Tommy, please,â I whisper. âJust lets not act all weepy-â
âIâm not,â he protests, gripping my chin. âIâm taking care of you because if you have forgotten, I am your husband.â Yes, I have forgotten, but at this moment, I forgive it and soak up his affection. I need every inch of tenderness I can get my hands on. And so, I move on and relax into his words. âI love you.â
âThank you, Tommy,â I say before quickly adding, âI love you, too.âÂ
#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#fanfiction#peaky blinder fanfic#fanfic#tommy Shelby x reader#one shot#tw: cancer#request#peaky blinders fanfiction
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Devil, Devil - Part I
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F! Reader
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Summary: The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned. And to your devil, your soul was bound.
[Inspired by this request for a jazz/vaudevillian performer and the song Devil, Devil - MICK]
Warnings: Dark!Tommy, dubcon/noncon themes, noncon touching, little bit smutty but full smut in future chapters, stalking/unhealthy obsession, manipulation, blackmail, mentions of domestic abuse, blood, mild choking, mention of prostitution
WC: 5277
It was all because of that damned Peaky devil.
You cursed him for the gaudy pearls strung around your neck, for the corset that pinched your stomach so tight it would be a wonder if youâd be able to hit your lower notes. You cursed him for the waver in your stride every night you stepped onstage, for the heat beneath your skin when that frozen gaze seemed to douse you in fire, for the quiver in your tone when you sang â for you sang from your soul, and your soul trembled in the sights of the blue-eyed Devil.
Heâd started arriving for your performances every night, attracting the attention of the dancers and the waitresses, the owner and the local hoodlums, but he paid no mind to any of them but you. He always sat in the second row, shadowed by the establishmentâs collection of antiques. Heâd light a cigarette and blow a halo for a crown, lurking in the darkness but staring at you from eyes like twin beacons, his pinewood throne framed by the black coat he never relinquished and his sharp features hallowed by the candlelit fires of Hell.
âHeâs trouble, that one,â the locals had said. âManaged to turn a backwoods razor gang into an enterprise, but make no mistake; heâs got cursed blood in him. Shelby Company Limited, they call themselves now, but the Peaky Blinders theyâll always be. Thomas fuckinâ Shelby comes up from Birmingham, thinks he owns everything he sees. The Devil, some say; if youâve crossed paths with him twice, them say itâs too late for you, when the Devilâs set his sights on your soul.â
If heâd truly set his sights on your soul, you wondered why he tormented you like this, why he never said a word but only devoured you with those frigid blue eyes, as if you were all his and you possessed not even a fraction of him. Last youâd checked, legend had it the Devil traded for souls, so what could he possibly think to grant you? The man had brought you nothing but misfortune. It was because of him that tonight you were expected to join the dancers, because your act had been slipping beneath that coldfire gaze and smoke-ring crown. Your manager claimed it was by popular customer request, but you knew better. You were a songbird, not a peacock; while the other girls of your troupe flared their feathered skirts and tasseled corsets, you were an instrument in their symphony. You got up on that stage not because you wanted to show off, but because when you sang, your soul came alive, and amidst the velvety sounds of the trombones and saxes and the lurid displays of flashing colours and lights, you were at peace.
Until he came along and ruined everything.
âI do not run a charity,â your manager had said. âI run a business. And this business, it has an image to maintain. Before our contract ends with this club, we need to show these Londoner pricks that we are not just another travelling circus with cheap whores and fake magic tricks. Nobody is questioning your ability to sing, Y/N. We just think you could be bringing a little⊠more.â
As you stepped onto the stage that night, and immediately felt yourself impaled by the icy hooks of that piercing gaze, you wondered if the Peaky devil also wanted a little âmoreâ. As if you could give him anything more than what heâd already taken: your soul, your peace.
Your breath came shaky against the microphone as the lights illuminated the stage, blacking out all of the clubâs customers except for one. One, whose mouth you could swear quirked into the slightest of smiles around his cigarette, whose gaze roved across your new ensemble like you were a piece of meat. Your corset already hitched your breath in your chest, and anger flared within you, frustration eating at the hollowness of your ribs as your voice came airy and light.
But this rage that had flickered to life inside you, warm and whelming like the oil lamps that cast darting shadows across the white tablecloths, it spurred a growl in your tone that surprised yet thrilled you, and as your nails curled around the microphone, your shoulders carried to the bright of the music, the dark of your tone made you feel like you were something dangerous. That perhaps a devil dwelled beneath your breast as it did the man with the eyes of death.
Feathered wings and headdresses whirled around you as the girls began their choreography, and your heart seemed to escape the heavy constriction of the corset to pound in your throat, your skull, joining the chorus of sounds that resonated deep in your bones. You sidled your hips from side to side, slowly, sensually, the way your dancer friend, Sally, had taught you, your heels beginning to click to the beat of the song.
But your flesh was burning up beneath that icy stare, and sweat prickled at your neck, and though you sang with fury, your voice still felt limited, unable to utilise the full breath of your stomach. Irritation clawed at your buzzing flesh, and your lip curled over your teeth as you attempted to belt your notes.
Damn you, Peaky bastard, you nearly breathed, hating the way his eyes seemed to gleam as you moved your body. He had no damn right to look so smug.
You tried to focus on channeling this frustration into the movements of your body and the snarl of your tone, the pearls along your chest clacking together as you twirled, your head growing dizzy as you battled for breath. It wasnât the hoots and hollers nor the cat calls that spurred you on, but the icy hooks of the Devilâs gaze. No, he did not look at you like a piece of meat. He looked at you like you were a goddess.
Breaths coming shorter, you yanked at the laces of your corset, your irritation reaching new heights and the incense and music and cheer drowning out the voice in your head that usually kept you from doing anything stupid.
As your corset tumbled to the stage, cold air sweeping across your sweat-dappled flesh, your voice sprang free of its cage, notes pulled deep from your belly and your fury masking the tremble in your tone. The pearls pooled between your breasts, the feathers of the pasties still scratching your flesh but no longer grinding so painfully against the fabric of the corset.
The Blinderâs smirk seemed to fall, jaw clenched, bright eyes darkening and drinking you in between minacious glances at the men in the crowd who cheered, kicked at the tables, shouted obscene comments that were only half-drowned out by the smooth shrill of the trombones. Your lips pulled into a wicked grin round your teeth, and you became lost in the music as you danced and sang, not caring anymore that your breaths were short or that you didnât hit every note just right. The look on his face made it all worth it.
And as the final notes died in your aching chest and the stage was swept by dark, and the saxes unleashed their final, wailing cry, Sally swept a sheer robe round your shoulders and ushered you from the stage and to the dressing room. Her excitement was contagious as blonde curls bounced over her bedazzled headband and she whispered praises to you, but her words seemed to muddle together as you heard, distinctly, the chanting of your name behind you like a sordid prayer.
---
The muffled notes of piano still hummed past the walls of the dressing room as you applied another coat of cherry red lipstick, a coil of smoke rising from the ash tray beside you and clouding your head as you attempted to filter out the excited chatter of the girls. Sheer gown now fitted properly around your arms, your skin had the chance to breathe without existing under the ogling eyes of the rambunctious men who had been chanting your name.
âI still canât believe what just happened out there!â Sallyâs voice cut through the throng of the rest, mostly because she had leaned over to squeal into your ear. âDid you see that gentleman at the front? His jaw practically dropped along with your corset.â She giggled, and you popped your painted lips, chasing away the smile that threatened their corner. You hadnât noticed any man in that crowd but the blue-eyed Devil. Those twin blues were practically burned into your skull, so much so that â
You stilled, blood turning to ice in your veins and your heart freezing over in your chest. The lipstick clattered to the desk, causing Sally to jump back with a yelp that if not from her, couldâve only come from a Chihuahua.
Blue eyes stared back at you in the smudged mirror.
A sharp breath filled your lungs as the ice around your heart shattered and it began to beat again, hard, against your ribs, and your head spun from the sudden flood of cigarettes and incense. You couldâve feinted as you stood, whirling on your heel, nails splintering the wooden grain of the desk with how hard they dug in to ground yourself. Your gaze narrowed, and your heart fluttered as you found it was met with the same intensity.
The dressing room fell silent with a hush, and as Thomas Shelby sauntered in, snubbing out his cigarette in the nearest ash tray, a fearful reverence seemed to coagulate in the air, until it became so thick you could scarcely breathe.
A few of the girls darted out behind him as he drew closer to you, smirk playing at his lip and that darkness colliding with the bright of his eyes in a twisted, glittering dance. But he held out a hand before the rest could vanish, even the high-spirited Marla, who seemed dismayed but didnât challenge him. Though not of a very tall stature, Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man, and it was evident that the name he carried made him untouchable. Your brow furrowed, teeth grinding together as you tried to work out exactly why he didnât want the girls to leave when it seemed obvious he had come here for you and you alone. And when that icy gaze settled on you again, the bright of it glittering with mischief, and his smirk tugged higher with unmistakable pride and that insufferable smugness, you figured you were beginning to work it out. He wanted to make a statement, and whatever it was he planned, he wanted them to see.
The statement, perhaps, that your soul belonged to him. And only him.
Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he closed the gap between the two of you with an agonisingly slow stride, as if time revolved around him. The gold chain of his pocket watch glinted in the harsh lights, and you mightâve used the word âdashingâ to describe his prim, collared, snow-white shirt, had you not wanted to smear the contents of the ash tray across it out of spite, or perhaps douse his black suit in some of the gold glitter the girls brushed their skin with.
Perhaps, some part of you wanted to print your lipstick along the rose-white flesh of his neck, to match his striking red tie.
Forcing such conflicted, intrusive thoughts from your reeling mind, you cocked your head, glaring at him expectantly.Â
âQuite the performance.â His voice was not shrill and grating as you had anticipated, but low, rumbling like thunder over a black horizon yet pooling like soft honey between your thighs. âTell me, songbird, do you usually win the crowd over with such provocative displays?â
Already amazed by his sheer fucking nerve, you stifled a scoff. As if you hadnât caught him staring, lurking in the shadows of every performance.
âYou tell me, Mr. Shelby,â you purred out your words, but cocked a brow in challenge. âTo what do I owe such keen interest?â
The bright of his eyes glinted, and his smirk hooked his lip. âYouâve heard of me.â
âEveryone in this city knows your name. It seems to spread like some sort of plague. Iâd prefer it never have crawled from the sickening bowels of the Birmingham streets, but... here it is, on my lips.â You rolled your shoulders upward, leaning against the desk, head tilted to one side.
âAnd yet, you wear it well.â Thomasâ gaze darted to your parted lips, snaked his tongue between his teeth as if to taste the cherry. âDonât fret, little birdâŠâ He spoke in a hushed baritone that still managed to reverberate through the diminishing space between you, as if the faint hiss of his whisper would mask his words from everyone but you, like clouds gathering over distant thunder. â⊠youâll be saying it more often.â
A burning, whiskey-tinged breath fanned your cheeks, stirring the wisps of hair from your face. Tension mounted in the room, the girls turning into porcelain dolls as they held their breaths, but they didnât exist outside of the threads that pulled taut between you and the Blinder.
He smelled of gunmetal, of old books. Of charcoal and wood smoke. Like blood and hellfire.
âWill I, now? Think you own these lips, is that it? Think you own my body?â You didnât even need to take a step to bring your figure to his, your breasts brushing his chest through the sheer fabric of your robe, the chain of his pocket watch tickling your stomach.
He smelled of earth, of sacred rituals. Of frankincense and myrrh. Like dug graves and lost religion.
And like a candle, the bright of his eyes was snuffed out by the dark, and the smirk fell from sharp outlines. âYou havenât heard?â he said. âSome say I own everything the light touchesâŠâ His fingers brushed your side, the heat of his blood beneath his skin sending cold shivers along your flesh, and you cursed yourself for wishing in that moment, in which his fingers dragged reverently down the curve of your hip, that his touch would burn away the fabric between you. âSome say I own everything the light is too fearful to touch.â The pressure of his touch increased, thumb tracing your navel, and suddenly, his grasp was anything but gentle â possessive, demanding, as his fingers curled between the parting of your thighs and his nails burned against your skin. A breath hissed from your teeth and you swatted his hand away. You were surprised when he returned his thumb to his pocket, his devious smirk reappearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating for him, could he smell the lust that brewed beneath your flesh, could he feel the heat that had pooled like poison between your legs?
Did he know that he haunted your dreams? That you could not drift off to sleep anymore without thinking of those soft lips trailing down your sternum, of his teeth leaving bruises across your flesh?
He made you want to be worshipped, and ruined.Â
âSome say youâre nothing but a Gypsy bastard.â Your voice rose, breathy and high, like a falsetto note. âA false king, with no crown.â
âBut a king nonetheless.â
âA devil, the witches say. Have you come to bargain for my soul, Mr. Shelby?â Your voice dipped back into your sensual alto as you regained some vestige of control, forcing your words to rise deep from your fluttering stomach.
âOh, Iâm here for more than your soul,â he breathed, closing the sliver of a gap between the two of you again, backing your spine against the wooden desk until you couldâve sworn blood welled beneath the sheer robe. âIâm here to offer a proposal, little bird. Youâre going to sing for me, at the Eden Club. Iâm sure youâve heard of it. Itâs far more prestigious than this seedy place. Your pay will be tripled, and you will never know a fabric rougher than silk or taste a wine younger than a lifetime.â
Though his offer would be tempting to most anyone, you did not sing for money. Pride, it came easy to you, and you did not appreciate the condescending way in which he spoke to you, looked at you, breathed in your direction.
âIâm under contract.â
âWhat, this?â He chuckled, pulling the slip of paper youâd signed a year ago from the deep pocket of his trousers. The material crinkled beneath his fingers, so close you couldâve reached out and grabbed it. But you didnât. You watched, seething, as he lowered the contract to the candle beside your lipstick, an orange tongue lapping at the corner of the ivory paper, the ink of your signature bleeding into the open flame. Out the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Sally, her shoulders furling inward just as the edge of the paper did before it was swallowed by the flame, the blackened remnants of the contract smudged into the floorboards with the toe of the gang leaderâs boot.
âEveryone can be bought with the right price,â he said. âYour bossâs wife, she likes diamonds.â
You shouldnât have expected any less of your manager. Like most in the entertainment business, he was shrewd, frugal, ruled by greed. The idea of his wife wearing diamonds was laughable; Thomas must have been a bloody saint in her eyes, because the most you had ever seen that man gift her was a silver locket that had been put in lost and found at one of your past gigs. He mustâve sold you out before Thomas could even pull his mafia card. And then milked you for one last performance.
You hated them. You hated them all.
âWell, I will find new work. The crowd seems to love me,â you pointed out, recalling the jealousy youâd seen darken the Devilâs eyes as heâd watched over your performance. Butting shoulders, you moved to stalk past, but a vice grip latched round your forearm and you froze, a puff of startled air escaping your lips as your gaze swung to meet his.
âI havenât told you my terms,â Thomas said, and if it was out of fear or that devilish itch between your legs that made your body acquiesce, you couldnât be certain, but damn it all the same. He shoved you back against the desk, fire igniting in his icy eyes as his shoulders pressed to yours, his figure solid against your own, denoting no escape. âSo long as you work for me, you will not dance for another manâŠâ He had the courtesy, at least, of releasing those icy hooks from your soul, the sharp line of his jaw brushing a flushed cheek to let his breath pool against your neck as if whispering sweet nothings to a lover. His fingers, ghosting the pulse of your throat. A breath hissed between your teeth and your eyes flared as they dragged down the vulnerable flesh, demonstrating his strength in a squeeze at the base of your throat.
âThey so much as look at you, I will personally take their eyes.â A kiss, placed to the crook of your collarbone, like a promise. His lips were as soft as you had imagined, and you half-expected his tongue to be forked like the legends, but it was supple and rounded as it wet your flesh. Your bottom lip caught in your teeth as you stifled a moan, your body betraying you in a slight rut of your hips. A chuckle rumbled against your ear; he knew what he was doing to you, and apparently the feeling was mutual, for the scarcely-clothed heat between your shivering legs brushed against a firmness in his slacks as your hips rolled forward.
âYou seeâŠâ He paused to inhale your scent, to drink you down like the whiskey on his breath. âIâve done some research⊠you like to move around so much because you have a husband, in Sheffield, who very much misses your company.â
The racing tides of heat that rolled beneath your flesh gave way to a cold sweat, and you shuddered, your blood turning once more to ice in your veins. Your heart, stolen from your chest, leaving your lips parted in a gasp. His fingers traced the hollow shell of your ribs, nails digging in where your heart should have been. His, you thought, wretchedly.
When he pulled back to assess your reaction, to witness the fear bloom in your eyes, the smugness was gone from his face, replaced by an intensity, a darkness that seemed to wrap its shadowy tendrils around your soul. His nose brushed yours, and you noticed, for the first time, that his face was freckled. Kisses from God, youâd heard them referred to as once, and if the breath had not been stolen from your lungs, you wouldâve chuffed a laugh at the demented irony.
Dark lashes crowned the blue eyes that raked down your chest, his thumb continuing its snaking little path from your heart to the lip of your breast, slipping beneath the fabric of your robe. âA year ago, you spoke with a solicitor about his tendency to⊠well, overexpress his love.â A jolt rocked your body, accidentally sending your hips back against his, drawing a groan from his chest that managed to be irresistible despite the discomfort of the scar he perfectly traced with his forefinger. Pain exploded beneath the surface of your flesh, as if his fingers was made of glass, like the smashed bottle that had struck your side all those years ago. You shuddered beneath his touch, the alcohol on his breath suddenly foul, and for just a moment, the way the light reflected off his eyes betrayed a sliver of green in seemingly pure blue.
âThe solicitor told me that you showed him this â this, that was not his to see. Not his to touch.â Your lashes batted beneath his furious breaths, but you dared not close them, dared not let this man turn into a ghost of your past. To your relief, his fingers retreated from your scar, only to cup your cheek in his palm. âYou offered him one night in exchange for freedom, and by morning, he did not honour his word. Do you know what I did to the solicitor?â
Thighs damp with arousal, palms clammy with fear, you trembled, breaking, cracking at your seams. The splinters of the wooden desk pierced your flesh as you sought its support, feeling like your knees might buckle beneath you and somehow knowing that he would catch you, but that that would be worse than falling to the cold ground. Because he wanted you to break, wanted to be the freckled angel who caught you when you fell.
But somewhere, from the shattered remnants of your chest, festered a darkness, a thirst, a satisfaction as you imagined the bloodied face of the man who had tricked you, as you imagined his eyes turned pale, pale as death.
Your pain didnât break you; it kept you standing, fractured but whole.
âTo you, I may be the Devil, but the Devil keeps his bargains.â His thumb swept across the ghost of the kiss heâd left on your skin. âAnd when you work for me, I will ensure that your darling husband never bothers you again.â
You could not banish the tremble from your limbs, nor the ireful rise and fall of your chest. And when you spoke, your hate, it seemed, was not even for him but for ghosts, âYouâre every bit as vile as the rumours say.â
âOh, Iâm worse.â He smiled, almost sweetly. âMuch worse.â A clear-blue eye winked, before studying you so intently you wondered if he really could read your thoughts, your sordid desires. Your sins. âBut I donât see disgust in your eyes, little bird. I see intrigue.â
Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.
You were most at ease when you sang, and in your moment of need, an old melody youâd heard once travelling west came to you, and with it, the curl of your lip into a wicked smirk.
âCannot buy me, Devil, Devil,â you half-sang, half purred, the notes that found your voice carrying undertones so dark, it almost did not sound like your own.
And in this moment, you found power, in the way his thumb seemed to still against your jaw, in the way his eyes locked to yours, mesmerised, his tongue catching between his teeth. In this moment, at last, he was yours. In this moment, he was just a boy, lured in by a siren song. As the notes died in your throat, his eyes darted to your lips, something softer than lust forming in oceans of melted ice. Your fingers fumbled for the first drawer of the desk, stabilising yourself now on the ivory handle.
And the emotion vanished before you could make sense of it, frozen over by a wall of ice.  Â
âIn life or in death, I will take your soul.â His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, and his hand drifted to your scalp, sinking into the wild locks of your hair. âI will take everything.â Another hand closed around your waist, squeezing your ribs, bunching the fabric of your gown. âIt is your choice, little bird. Because, you see, I made certain your husband knows of your infidelity. Itâs a great dishonour, to a man of his station. And what sort of things does a man of his station do when he finds himself with a problem like you, eh?â Your chin was pointed sharply up, suspended by two fingers, your lips a hairsbreadth from his own as he stared you down.
âNow, I donât think your friends will like to see what Iâm going to do to you, little bird.â A growl grated the thunder of his tone, and he bit his lip. âIâm going to be a gentleman, and let you decide if youâd like them to give us privacy.â
And gone was the whiskey of his breath, the fire of his touch, the sharpness of his teeth. Thomas Shelby took a step back, smoothing out his waistcoat as if nothing had happened between the two of you. One of the porcelain dolls came alive, skittering back on her shaky heel to make way, but he paid no mind to her. He only awaited your command, as if trying to give you some false sense of control.
The silence that stretched between you was impossibly thick, like gasoline ready to ignite from one heated breath. You remembered to breathe, in, and out. And you began to sing.
âClever Devil, DevilâŠâ
His eyes narrowed, fixating so intensely on you that you were convinced nothing else existed in this moment beyond your dark melody, your cherry lips, your siren song.
Trembling, behind your back your fingers pulled gently at the drawer handle.
âHow quickly do they sell their soulsâŠâ
He blinked, slow, enraptured. Yours.
Your fingers clasped the familiar stock of the 1911, flesh kissed by cold metal.
â⊠for the feast and the promise of gold.â
Time itself fractured; Thomas barely stirred as he watched your lips, your wrathful eyes, your brow sewn by ruthless will. He did not watch the gun you pulled on him, nor did he seem to hear the rack of the slide that split the quiet of the dressing room.Â
âBut Devil⊠that wonât be me.â Your velvety singing turned to words of steel in your throat, and you glared at him down the sights of your weapon. Only now, did he seem to take notice of it, with a fleeting, unconcerned glance at its gaping black maw. He could have turned it on you, but he didnât. He just smiled, bright blue eyes shining down a silver-moon barrel to meet yours.
Stepping back, leisurely, fists buried in his pockets, he promised, âIâll be back, to claim whatâs mine.â
Your finger loosened from the trigger yet trembled as the sight of Thomas Shelby disappeared past the doorframe, nothing left of him but the soft thud of his dress shoes down the hall and the ghost of his burning touch on your skin, the dampness on your neck from the promise heâd made you. The shameful cling of the sheer robe to your slicked thighs, the cold sweat that sent shivers of winter, death, and all things barren along your flesh.
For one, gut-twisting moment, all eyes were on you. The suffocating festering of fear, the sickening crawl of disgust, the heart-wrenching trace of reproach all culminated in the air around you, cast to the incense and smoke by bright eyes and slacked jaws, crossed arms and furled shoulders.
And the girls began to scurry from the dressing room, skirts and dresses and tassels streaming behind them like streaks of lightning that followed the rumble of the storm, like rivulets of rain chased by the hurricane.
Marla was among the last to leave, her eyes wary and wild and a sneer curling her lip as her eyes traced up and down your trembling form. Only when she left did you lower your gun, sliding the hammer back in place.
That left two. Sally, and the woman who claimed herself a witch.
âIâm sorryâŠâ you breathed, not knowing what to say. âIâm sorry you had to witness that, I â I had no idea that was going to happen.â Shifting your attention fully to your friend, you reached a tentative hand for Sally, as if to ease her anxiety. Poor thing was shaking like a furled leaf and quiet tears streaked the freckles of her heart-shaped face.
She flinched away, and your heart clenched, hand withdrawing. You set aside your gun, hoping that might settle her nerves. âAt least, let me give you this backâŠâ you untied the bedazzled choker from your neck. âIt looks like this was our last performance together. Thank you, for lending me it.â
But she sprang back like a jackrabbit when the fabric brushed her knuckles, and she shook her head frantically, tears shaking free of her spidery lashes like dew falling from painted webs. âYou can keep it,â she spoke, her tiny voice cracking in her chest. âJust stay away from me.â
Something bitter worked its way into the fracture of your chest, the cruel fist of rejection squeezing the remnants of your shattered heart tight. Your fist curled, hard, around the choker, so hard that when you opened it, the jewels had left red impressions on your palm, and your thanks turned to bitter ash on your tongue as the laces of the choker slipped between your fingers.
The witch, Clementine, watched you from dark eyes always shrouded in an enigma, but today, held the slight trace of unease. A foreboding weight sunk her shoulders, and when she spoke, the raspy tones of her voice were those of lost souls, crying from strangled throats to warn you of something truly grave on the horizon,
âYouâre marked. Youâre marked by the Devil, you are, girl.â
Your brow furrowed, and the chime of her jangling bracelets seemed to mock you like laughter as she pointed a hooked claw to your loins.
Pawing aside the fabric of your robe, your fingers swiped across the nail marks Thomas had left along your inner thigh, wrathful and red and weeping. Your fingers came away with a veneer of blood, pooling in the rings of your skin like a wax seal.
The seal of your fate, to a man falsely crowned.
And to your devil, your soul was bound.
Part II coming soon!
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TOMMY & ALFIE âž Peaky Blinders, 4.4
requested by @raincoffeeandfandoms
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How the peaky boys react when dating a girl with a praise kink (nsfw) -> headcannon
Goes without saying, nsfw warning
Find the request here, sorry it took so long
TommyđȘ
đȘTommy had you figured out before youâd figured yourself out.
đȘHe knew what was going on in your head before your did.
đȘYou were working late one Friday at the Garrison, of course many working men joyously engaging in Friday night drinking and drunkenness while their wives whittled wistfully back home.
đȘYou werenât expecting the Blinders tonight, but of course youâd always find room for the Peaky boys in this establishment, regardless if you were chocker with customers that the bar didnât really have the capacity for. The door chimed and you spun, peering to see if you had the numbers to accommodate the x amount of customers you had walking through your door.
đȘâEvening boys, meeting or drinks?â You ask, readying yourself to go clean the business Roman that was wordlessly their property. âJust drinks tonight, loveâ Tommy answered with a small smile and you nod, placing your hands on your hips; balled into fists while you ponder around to find their empty table.
đȘYou notice a table of rowdy youngsters occupying the usual Shelby spot and you narrow your eyes at them, internally questioning if you had the inner morals to boot paying customers out of their seats.
đȘâBe a good girl and get us a booth please, sweetheartâ Tommy asks, well instructs, as he lights up another cigarette.
đȘHe noticed the way your eyes darkened at his request and your lips parted slightly. You nodded. âOf course Tommy, give me a moment ladsâ you say, heading to the young gentleman to ask them to either head to the open seats at the bar or get gone.
đȘ"hiya lads, sorry to bother.â You say as you approach the lot who look at you in question âbut Iâm afraid we need this booth, happy to serve you up at the bar or Iâm sure another will open soonâ you wince, apologetically. One scoffs. âWhy should we? Weâre paying customers?â He asks, beginning to instigate somewhat of an issue, when Tommy swoops in âI believe she asked you nicelyâ he grunts, and it was almost awe-strucking watching how fast the boys scampered out the door with mediocre apologies.
đȘThomas wanted to test his small hypothesis again, placing a gentle hand on your lower back âsuch a good lass to your old Tom, arenât you?â He hums and he watches as your jaw slackens and you swallow on your own saliva, beginning to stumble around a response. âMy pleasure, Tomâ
đȘAnd then a few months later, when heâd taken you out a couple of times you were more widely known as Tommyâs girl than you were your own name.
đȘIt was again a Friday evening, usual crowd shuffling to their places and so were the boys.
đȘâevening boysâ you smile, handing an older man his shandy as he makes his way back to his missus who was still sipping on her gin.
đȘâevening sweetheartâ Tommy smiles, leaning across the bar to peck your lips as the rest of the boys head to their normal spot.
đȘbusiness as usual
đȘyou begin pouring their beers automatically, following Tommy to the table with umpteen pints and of course an apple juice for John, whom youâd cut off from alcohol.
đȘâgood girlâ Tommy applauds as you hand them their drinks, quiet enough that the rest of his rough crowd didnât hear but loud enough for you to become unsteady on your feet.
đȘyou didnât know when youâd agreed to go home with Tommy. You donât even remember locking the door to the Garrison. But now he had you buried deep beneath him as he rutted into you and there was nothing you really cared about more right now. If there was a problem you can deal with it when you were finished.
đȘhe was trying to coax it out of you. Trying to coax out the fact that you revelled in it when he praised you. And it got him off to see that when other blokes such as Harry called you a âgood lassâ for a decent shift, you didnât bat an eyelid.
đȘâCome on love, got one more in you havenât you?â You shook your head at his question, almost hoping that heâd let you rest after your third. âCâmon sweetheart, donât you want to be a good girl for your Tommy?â He asks and you nod up at him through dazed eyes. âHmm?â He asks, holding your jaw still with one hand while the other held him up above you. âPlease. Please Tommy. Wanna be good for youâ you mumble out, and he smirks - rutting into you at yet again, another relentless pace.
đȘâthatâs it. Such a good girl fâme. So so goodâ he praises as your moans progressively get louder as you mewl beneath him.
đȘand eventually, when youâd both calmed down, he looked at you and smirked âgood girl arenât you?â
đȘâshut up Tom.â
Alfieđ§ž
đ§žEats that shit up, no crumbs, licks the plate clean.
đ§žalready kind of babies you, he doesnât mean too. Youâre a few years his younger and as your husband he sees it as his job to protect and provide for you while doting and taking care of you like any good man should.
đ§žthen one night he comes home a bit late from the bakery, readying to apologise when heâd noticed youâd just finished cooking dinner. âWell here I was all soppy and ready to apologise to you, yeah. And no, my good little girls just gone and made dinner!â He says, almost chuffed. You giggle and plate up the food, sitting across from him as he begins to eat.
đ§žâwhat ây doing over there, then?â He scoffs âcâmere.â He instructs as you move to sit in his lap and he relishes in the meal youâd prepared âyouâre so good to your old man, arenât you?â He hums âso so goodâ he exclaims, only trying to show his appreciation but he noticed your pupils dilate at his words. He brushes it off, nothing major.
đ§žlater in the evening his sciatica was playing up so you wordlessly left the room to go draw him a bath with some new salts youâd bought from your elderly neighbour whom your husband refused to speak to on account of her being âa witchâ as he said.
đ§žâoh you are a goodâun arenât you, poppet?â He hums, as he enters the room, allowing you to help him undress and get into the bath, afterwards preparing to make your leave and get him some medicine from the cupboard downstairs.
đ§žâand where do you think youâre going?â he questions, and you raise a brow âto get you some medicineâ âI need no such thing. Now get in here wâme.â He grunts and you do as he says, never one to turn down a good relaxing soak in the bath with your husband.
đ§žâthere you are, good girl arenât you? Always listening to your old man. What did I do to deserve you. So perfectâ he rambled, and doesnât notice the ever hazing glint in your eye and when he finally looks down at you he narrows his eyes and finally realised what that look was.
đ§žhis praises got you going.
đ§žâtell yâwhat would make yâold man feel so much better,â he hums and you cock your head ready to help his pain ease âif you be a good girl fâme and give us a distractionâ he suggests and you see the smirk unveiling under his beard, as he reaches for your thigh to pull you over his lap and to settle atop of him. âSeeing as you asked so nicelyâ you mumbled into his shoulder, as you began to rock against him.
đ§žâthere you go, thereâs a good girlâ he says as you come undone on top of him and collapse onto his chest, stroking your back gently with one hand and holding you close with the other. âYâwant to move, poppet he asks?â And you shake your head, eyes closed as you recover.
𧞠as soon as his sciatica pain eases up, he was going to abuse that little trick as often as he could.
Arthurđș
đșpoor baby needs just as much praise as you do. Thinks heâs a shitty partner
đșbut god when he found out it was like finding the fucking Magna Carta.
đșit was his ticket out of everything. Came home drunk? âIâm so sorry, youâre so good for putting up with meâ In a fight? âyouâre such a good wife for patching me upâ literally anything youâre not agreeing on? âOh my good girlâ
đșheâd found out when you were already buried beneath his, mewling as he took out his frustrations on you rather than the man he was originally destined to kill that day.
đșâyâbetter feel good about yâself.â He grunts âmanâs life was saved cause of you, you and this fucking insatiability.â He thrusts and you groan âpleaseâ you number âhmm? Feel good? Little saint you are, fuckinâ angel. Stopped me killinâ a man. Wanna get me into heaven do yâangel? Huh? Thatâs where youâre sending me?â He asks and you groan louder.
đșâyeah, cause youâre such a good girl arenât you?â And thatâs when you let out the most gluteal pornographic moan that almost stopped his movements, instead it pushes the throttle and sends the both of you over the edge.
đșâgod Idâve spared hundreds of men if it meant I got to hear that from youâ
Johnđ„
đ„The Shelby family were enjoying an afternoon at the Garrison. Given, it was incredibly backed with gang members and people dissimilar; still the atmosphere was was light and full of laughter.
đ„youâd volunteered for the Saturday shift seeing as Harry needed extra help nowadays seeing as the customer numbers were ever growing.
đ„John was flirting with you, as ever. While you just rolled your eyes at his antics and offered him another drink.
đ„âblimey, I need to drop drinkinâ the hard stuff. Iâm seeing an angel!â John feigned surprise, as he took his cap off his head to greet you, plopping it onto your own as he leaned in to kiss your cheek sweetly. âAnd Iâm seeing a man whoâs had one too many. Iâm cutting you offâ you warn, wagging a finger at him. âWell I do like a lady who takes care of her manâ he smirks, but was cut off by a voice that altered the atmosphere in the bar.
đ„âI am looking for Thomas Shelbyâ the voice announced, and you felt uneasy; Johnâs face darkened as he clearly recognised the man who was a stranger to yourself. You look to the rest of his family who have a similar stature to him on their faces.
đ„âget behind the bar flowerâ John mumbles to you calmly, âthatâs a good girl. Stay down there, sweetheartâ he coos as you duck your head out of sight and into the small crawl space under the kegs.
đ„As the conversation continued, John looks over the counter to you discreetly. And your large doe eyes look back, and he could see the trust in them. He leans his hip against the oak bar edge, holding his hand over and motions for you to give him your own. You thread your hand with his, and he strokes the back of your knuckled gently; giving it a squeeze as Harry instructs them to take this out of his pub.
đ„John gives you one last reassuring squeeze of the hand before grabbing an empty beer bottle and heading out the door with his brothers. A few minutes, a couple of shouts and a gun shot the three walked back in as if nothing had happened.
đ„John leans over the bar âyâalright now, good lassâ he says as you peer back up and get back up from your seat on the bar. He rests his arms against the wood and grins at you. âLet yâold John reward you fâ being such a good girl, hm?â He raises a brow and honestly expects nothing from his advance.
đ„you look at the clock on the wall and decide Harry could fend for himself for a while. You look at John and wet your lips, leaning down and grabbing his collar to bring him closer to you. âMeet me in the backâ
đ„He jumped over the bar.
Bonnieđ„
đ„revels in it without really meaning too.
đ„also uses it to his advantage. He doesnât mean it, honest.
đ„you were knelt in front of him, sitting back to rest on your ankles as you wrapped his hands for his fight. âYouâre so good tâme, thank you angelâ he thanks, stroking your jaw with his thumb.
đ„he knew what he was doing to you. Trying to get in your head.
đ„since heâd fallen hard and fast heâd decided that you were it for him. You were his and he was yours and nothing else. Especially when you agreed to live out his gypsy fantasies with him and give up the traditional home you were so accustomed too.
đ„and he was convinced youâd make the best mum.
đ„so this little praise obsession of yours was the perfect way to sway you onto his wavelength.
đ„âyouâre gonna be great tonight, Bonâ you say, smiling at him comfortingly. âM nervousâ he mumbles and you shake your head, holding his hands in yours âitâs gonna be fine, just go out there and do your best. Iâll always be proud of you.â You say and he seems to settle slightly. âYâd be such a good mother, darlingâ he tells you, moving some loose hair out of your face and behind your ear.
đ„he notices a slight blush on your cheeks, and decides to pry. âBONNIE; TIME!â His dad shouts through the door and you tap his leg, standing up to give him his good luck kiss. Instead, he slowly walks you back until your back hits the wall, two wrapped hands caging you.
đ„ âhmm, wouldây like thaâ? A mammy?â He asks and you stare up at him with dazed yet wide eyes. âOh youâd be such a good mammy. So caring, so sweet. Yâso good tâme imagine how good yâd be to a youngâun.â He hums, resting one hand on your waist. âSo, so goodâ he bumps his nose with yours. âThen Iâd marry yâa.â He continues âbe a good wife too. The best. Such a good girlâ he coos and you audibly whine and he smiles.
đ„âyâd like that? Gonna let me make yâa mammy?â He hums, ghosting his lips over yours âBONNIE!â His dad reiterates and Bonnie huffs. âYâcan do whatever Yâwant to do to me, bonâ you reply hazily and he smiles as you lean up to kiss him deeply, pulling away to lean your forehead on his, hands cradling his face. âAfter your fight.â You nod and he raises his brows âpromise?â You smile back âpromise.â
đ„fastest knockout heâd ever done.
Isaiahâïž
âïžuses it against you. Purposefully
âïždefo teases you for it
âïžyouâd be at the garrison, having gone accompanying your twin brother Finn and expecting to see your boyfriend there eventually when you werenât in your usual spot at home.
âïžheâd turned up around half and hour after you had, only looking to get a drink defo not looking for you.
âïžhe sees you at the bar, yet by your side was some bloke he didnât recognise. Some six foot slime ball with his hair slicked back so far it looked like it created a permanent surprised upkeep on his eyebrows. His suit was brand new, Isaiah assumed the tag was still tucked into a pocket somewhere for him to return and scrounge in the morning.
âïžand why were you talking back?
âïžyou were drinking something dark, presumably the alcohol Isaiah preferred for you not to have.
âïžhad he bought it you?
âïžIsaiah stormed his way over, fully prepared to lay out the man talking to you and throw you over his shoulder and lead you straight out of the pub; but the conversation you were having with the boy stopped you.
âïžâwhat dây say love, wanna get out of here?â He asked âand for the fifth time. No. My husband will be here any minute. Heâs a blinder yâknow?â You scoff âwell he ainât here now, is he?â He asked you when Isaiah sweeper in and pressed his gun to the manâs temple âisnât he?â He asked, cocking it as the man before you swallowed and visibly began to sweat.
âïžâI suggest you take yourself out of this pub, out of Birmingham and fucking away from my woman.â He grunts, and the man immediately scampers. Then Isaiah looks to you, and the relief decorating your face is immediately apparent.
âïžâoh Isaiah Iâm so sorry I tried to get rid of him-â you begin and then your boy begins to smile âyour husband?â He asked, raising a brow cockily and you begin to rock back onto your heels âjust wanted to get rid of himâ you mumble, and he wraps hands around your waist and settles them on the small of your back.
âïžâyouâre so good to me, arenât you doll?â He asks, smirk growing ârejecting other men fâme?â He hums and you nod âyâknow good girls get rewarded, donât you?â
âïžor when youâre not behaving as heâd want you too.
âïžâwhere dây think youâre going?â he asks as you open the door.
âïžâAda invited me for drinksâ âyânot going, not safe. Not wâthem Italians crawling roundâ he instructs, expecting you to shrug off your coat and come join him in the lounge. He turns but hears the door click shut. And when heâd looked, you were gone.
âïžhe was fucking fuming, livid, murderous.
âïžand when youâd shown back home at 2 in the morning, hiccuping, he was already stood at the door with his arms crossed.
âïžyou smiled âhi Isaiahâ you giggled, but he didnât say anything as he walked you backwards and your back hit the wall. âIn what fucking world does a woman not listen to her man?â He asked and you were immediately silenced. âHmm?â He asks âwhy did you think you could just go out without me, you know how dangerous it isâ he says âwell-â âgood girls donât disobey their men, dâthey princessâ and he noticed how you cowered and sunk into your shell.
âïžhe threw you over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs, rutting into you in the bedroom more times than you could count telling you how disappointed in you he was and every time you were close to release, heâd stop and tell you why you didnât deserve it.
âïžhe loved torturing you.
Michaelđ±
đ±so belittling with it.
đ±loves to use it against you whenever he can because it always means that he wins
đ±the first time heâd sussed this little predicament of yours out was when you were entertaining him while his brother dealt business with your father deep within the Cotswolds.
đ±youâd served him tea and polite conversation, talking about your purity and how much he idolised you.
đ±âand youâve no husband?â He asked and he placed his cup on his saucer you and you straightened your posture before responding âno, no husbandâ you confirm and he is forced to stifle his smirk âwell youâd make the perfect wifeâ he tells you and he notices how you swallow harshly âwell that comes appreciated, mister grayâ you reply and he narrows his eyes.
đ±and then when you were married and doting on him, heâd always remind you of how he impacted you.
đ±he knew just how to get to you. âDear, go be a good girl and fix me a drinkâ and youâd do so. âIâve got to go to London for the week. Be a good lass and donât leave the houseâ and you wouldnât.
đ±and sometimes heâd take you to family meetings. Personally believing that the women shouldnât really be at these meetings. But a quick slap to the head from his mother soon sorted him out.
đ±and then he walked in on John shamelessly flirting with you, and he knew full well you werenât meaningfully engaging with his cousin, itâs what you were taught to do from a young age. But still, you were engaging.
đ±âflirting with my woman, John?â Michael grunted, entering the room to which the former rolled his eyes âjust showing her what a real man could give herâ he winked at you before swaggering out of the room. âWhy did you entertain him?â âI didnât-â âthought youâd promised to be a good girl for me tonight?â And that shut you right up. The desire to be praised overpowering all.
đ± âhow âbout you make it up to me tonight, sweetheart?â
Finnđïž
đïžfor his whole life, Finn has always been overshadowed by his older brothers. So being able to have so much control over you was so addictively intoxicating that he just loved to abuse his power.
đïžand heâs at that age in his early twenties when his hormones are heightened and all he wants to do is act like a rabbit in a hutch during mating season.
đïžand sometimes you werenât up for it.
đïžnot until he figured you out.
đïžheâd had you going for three rounds. Overwhelmed from how his brothers had been belittling him all day during business meetings and finally finding a vector to take it out on.
đïžyouâd come undone beneath him, very exhausted from the relentlessness of his actions, when he blurted out âfuck youâre so good at thisâ as he released inside of you. You mewled and whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. âAgainâ you mumbled and he raised his brows âyou sure?â He asked and you opened his eyes as he recognised how your irises had deepened two shades and smiled giddily âwell alright thenâ
đïžso whenever he needed something or someone to release his frustrations on all he had to do was stroke your cheek and call you âmy good girlâ and you were pretty much tearing his clothes off.
đïžand even sometimes when heâs upset he uses it to tell you just how much he appreciates you. When times are particularly hard and when he just canât cope with situations; heâd let you hold and cradle him and rock him back and forth while silent tears sunk down his face âyouâre so good to meâ heâd mumble over and over again in a sleepy voice until heâd fallen asleep in your arms and youâd manoeuvred him into a comfortable position as his arms tightened around you.
Aberamađ
đoh god this man is insatiable.
đdefo calls you his âgood girlâ and doesnât give a fuck who hears it.
đlikes to shelter you from everything in this horrible world, thinks itâs his job to protect and shadow you from anything. You were just a dainty young thing with no clue, someone had to step up and he decided he was the man for the job.
đjust loved to take good care of you so those for eyes stayed innocent and undamaged. Bare and pure unlike his that were darkened and locked with such an intricately pessimistic past
đone day Thomas Shelby decided to pay a visit to the camp and Aberama had beckoned you over and you did as you were told, he motioned for you to lean closer as you approached him. âNeed you to stay out of the way for a while sweetheart, can you do that for me, is that alright? Just until he goes?â He asks with sweet eyes. You smile and nod at him âgood girl, off you goâ and you were off into the woods to pick some berries for a recipe you had an idea for.
đeventually heâd come looking for you, find you deep into a bush trying to reach a berry that youâd just had to have but couldnât quite get too. Heâd stayed back for a while, leant against a tree while he admired you. Until heâd felt the masculine desire to aid his lady. Coming behind you and placing his hands on your waist as he leant to grab the berry for you. Youâd gasped but turned to see him, smiling brightly at him. âThank youâ âanything for youâ he replied, pecking your lips gently.
đâalways willing to help my special girlâ he says âcan always count on you canât I?â And the grin turns into a gaping expression, wide and heavy eyes looking at him and heâd decided he had to have you right then and there.
đheâd hiked the skirt of your dress up to your waist and told you how much he appreciated you as you screwed your eyes shut and threw your head back.
đthen heâd carried your worn out, sleeping figure bridal-style back to camp with your basket selection of berries resting in his arm as he looked down at you lovingly.
#masterlist#xreader#smut#fluff#warner sister#angst#requests#x you#imagine#Peaky#blinders#Peaky blinders#isaiah jesus peaky blinders#michael gray peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders x reader#Thomas Shelby#John Shelby#aberama gold#Bonnie gold#Arthur Shelby#cillian Murphy#Thomas Shelby x reader#John Shelby x reader#Aberama gold x reader#Bonnie gold x reader#Arthur Shelby x reader#Alfie Solomons x reader#Alfie Solomons#Isaiah Jesus
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Tommy Shelby - Peaky Blinders S1E6
requested by: @look-at-the-soul âšïž
#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#cillian murphy#peaky blinders#thomasshelbyedit#peakyblindersedit#tv#missing old tommy hours <3#hubby vibes *intenionally sneaks up on him and sits astride on his lap*#t'swifesgifs#requests
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Evening, I have that idea of a tommy Shelby x wife reader for days. It's more an the tiny side so reader walks to tommy, doesn't matter if he's alone or now and it's like "do you have a affair?" Tommy is puzzled because "of course not the fuck?!" OK, I believe you and I don't know if it should calm me down, because then it means that your son had a girl in the car I have fin her bra" and it more about the awkward family stuff when their realized that their son isr not so little anymore
Note: requests are currently closed
Yes of course! Sorry it took so long to publish. Hope you like the fic :D
Title: Found Out
Warnings: some suggestive content but nothing nsfw, mentions of past cheating
The door to Tommyâs office slammed open and you glared at your husband. John and Arthur glanced between the two of you as you stormed over to Tommy. Tommy frowned and put down the paperwork he was looking at, confused about why you were so angry. You stopped directly in front of his desk and glared down at him.
âThomas,â you said, your voice icy, âis there anything youâd like to tell me?â
âTell you what, love?â he asked
âHave you been fucking cheating on me?â
John and Arthur shared a knowing look. You had been married to their brother for almost two years and Tommy had sworn that heâd be loyal to you. Well, they knew that was too good to be true. Sooner or later Tommy would see a pretty little thing and heâd be tempted away. Tommy looked up at you sharply, his blue eyes glinting dangerously.
âOf course not,â he said, his voice scarily level, âwhy the fuck would you think that?â
âBecause I found these in my car.â
You slammed down a pair of underwear that clearly belonged to a woman. John choked on his whiskey.
âI think you two should leave,â said Tommy, his eyes never leaving you, âright now.â
Arthur quickly stood up and practically dragged John out of the room. You looked over your shoulder before marching over and checking that they (mainly John) werenât listening in at the door. When you were certain that you and Tommy were alone and made your way back over to the desk. You folded your arms and looked down at the offending object. Tommy picked up a pen and used it to pick up the underwear.
âIf this is your way of telling me that you purchased something new,â he said, âwell, it leaves much to be desired. I can think of other more enjoyable ways of showing me your underwear.â
He put them down and relaxed back in his chair. You wrinkled your nose and said,
âYou really think Iâd wear something like that? Those are clearly for a much younger woman.â
You collapsed into a chair and said,
âIf you are fucking another woman Iâd rather have you tell me. I donât want to be humiliated by having everyone know about your little mistress. Tell me so I know what to do.â
Tommy sighed and stood up. He poured you both a large drink and handed one of the glasses to you. You took a large gulp and Tommy leant against his desk.
âHave I ever lied to you before?â he asked
âNo.â
âSo why would I be lying to you now?â
You gave him an unimpressed look and raised your eyebrows. Tommy sighed and took a sip of his own drink. Heâll admit, but only to himself, that his past behaviour with other women might cause you to be suspicious. You had every right to act like this, even if he didnât necessarily like it.
âAnd you found these in your car.â he said
âYes. In the back seat.â
You shook your head and took another gulp. You stood up and slammed your empty glass on the table. You walked over to the window and looked out of it as you tried to figure out who would used your car to-
You closed your eyes and let out a groan. Tommy gave you a knowing smile as you turned to face him.
âCharlie,â you said as Tommy nodded, âI knew I shouldnât have leant it to him. He usually never asks to use mine. That shouldâve been a warning in the first place.â
âHeâs not a child anymore,â said Tommy, âwe shouldâve been expecting this.â
âI know,â you came and sat down next to him and rested your head against his shoulder, âI know. But in my car, Tom.â
Tommy wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss against the side of your head.
âThatâs what you sound most upset about,â he said, âthat it was in your car.â
âI wouldâve preferred it if he did it in a bedroom,â you said, âor someone elseâs car. Heâs going to have to pay for it to be cleaned. Like you said, heâs not a child anymore. He can damn well suffer the consequences of his actions.â
You groaned and pressed your forehead against his shoulder.
âThey grow up so fast,â you said, âit seems like only yesterday he was a small child. Sometimes I miss him when he was that age.â
âWell,â Tommy leant down, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, his arm snaking around your waist, âIâm sure thereâs something we could do about that.â
#fanfiction#peaky blinders#reader insert#request#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader
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Lean On Me.
[Tommy Shelby Ă Reader]
Summary - A cute little hurt/comfort one-shot based on this request. When you're hurt during an incident at the Garrison, it's Tommy who notices and takes care of you.
The Garrison was alive with the usual sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of conversation. It was a typical evening, and you moved behind the bar with ease, offering your gentle smile and kind eyes to each patron who approached. Your sweet demeanor had made you a favorite among the regulars, and your presence was often a calming influence in the boisterous atmosphere.
As you refilled a customer's drink, you noticed the door swing open with a force that made it bang against the wall, causing a few heads to turn sharply. A group of men entered, their loud voices and aggressive postures immediately altering the mood of the room. You recognized a few of them as troublemakers who had been thrown out before. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach, but you continued your work, hoping they would leave without causing any trouble.
Unfortunately, it was not going to be one of those nights. The arguments started almost immediately, escalating quickly into shouts and threats. One of the men grabbed a patron by the collar, slamming him against the bar and causing his drink to spill everywhere. A furious brawl erupted, with fists flying and chairs being overturned. Glasses shattered as they were knocked off tables, and the sound of breaking wood filled the air as a table was flipped over.
You moved behind the bar, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to stay out of the fray. The scene was a blur of violent motion: a man was thrown to the ground, another's face was bloodied by a brutal punch, and someone else wielded a broken bottle like a weapon. The shouts and grunts of pain were deafening, and the air was thick with tension and fear.
Then, you heard the unmistakable crack of a gunshot. The noise cut through the chaos like a knife, silencing the room for a brief, heart-stopping moment.Â
A searing pain shot through your side, causing you to gasp. You pressed a hand against the pain, feeling the warmth of blood seep through your fingers. Panic surged through you, but you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry. You couldn't afford to let anyone see you falter, not when the pub was in such disarray. You told yourself it was just a graze, nothing serious. You didn't need to cause a fuss.
The tension in the room was palpable when, suddenly, the door to the side room burst open. Tommy Shelby, flanked by his brothers John and Arthur, strode in with an air of authority that immediately commanded attention. Tommyâs sharp blue eyes scanned the chaos, missing nothing. In his hand, he held a revolver, its presence a chilling promise of violence. John, with a snarl on his lips, grabbed one of the troublemakers and threw him against the wall with a force that made the entire room shake. Arthur, always the most volatile, swung a chair with a roar, smashing it over another man's back. The Peaky Blinders moved with the precision and efficiency of a well-oiled machine, their brutal swiftness clearing out the troublemakers in a matter of moments.
Tommy fired a shot into the ceiling, the deafening crack silencing any remaining resistance. The troublemakers froze, their eyes wide with fear. "Out," Tommy growled, his voice low and deadly. "And if I see any of you in here again, you'll regret it." The men scrambled for the door, tripping over each other in their haste to escape.
The Garrison was left in shambles, but the immediate threat was gone. Tommy turned to survey the room, his gaze hard and calculating. He didnât notice as you quickly tied a makeshift bandage around your waist, gritting your teeth against the pain, and continued your work.
Time seemed to stretch on forever as you cleaned up the broken glass and righted the overturned furniture. Your vision wavered, and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. You pressed your hand to your side again, feeling the blood still seeping through the fabric of your makeshift bandage. Each movement was agony, but you forced yourself to keep going, telling yourself it would all be okay once your shift was over and you could go home. You swept the shattered remnants of glasses into a dustpan, the sound of the shards tinkling like a cruel reminder of the night's violence.
Eventually, you faltered faster than you could catch yourself, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain your balance. A strong hand caught your arm, steadying you. You looked up to see Tommy Shelby's piercing blue eyes staring at you, concern etched into his usually stoic features.
"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, the edge of authority unmistakable.
"I-It's nothing, Mr. Shelby," you stammered, trying to muster a reassuring smile but failing. "Just a scratch."
Tommy's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you with a penetrating gaze. Before you could protest, he had pulled your hand away from your side, revealing the blood-soaked bandage. His expression darkened, a storm of anger and worry playing across his features.
"You're bleeding and you didn't think to say anything?" he growled, though there was a softness in his eyes that belied his harsh tone. "Come with me."
He led you to a side room of the Garrison, his grip firm but gentle, ensuring you didn't stumble. The room was small and dimly lit, filled with the scent of whiskey and old wood, a hidden sanctuary from the chaos outside. You winced as he helped you sit down, the pain now impossible to ignore.
Tommy worked quickly, his hands surprisingly deft as he removed your makeshift bandage and examined the wound. His fingers were steady, the touch surprisingly tender for someone known for his ruthlessness.Â
"This is more than a scratch," Tommy muttered, his jaw tight with restrained anger. "God damn it, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I didn't want to be a bother."
Tommy's expression softened, his steely exterior cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of concern. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You're lucky I pay attention."
He set to work with surprising tenderness, carefully cleaning the wound. The sting of the antiseptic made you flinch, but Tommy's steady presence was oddly comforting. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, ensuring it was free of debris before wrapping a proper bandage around your waist. Despite the sharp focus in his eyes, you could see the undercurrent of tension, the worry he tried to mask behind his composed demeanour.
The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the dim light casting a warm glow over Tommy's concentrated face. His hands moved with practised ease, but the care in his touch spoke volumes. It was a side of him rarely seen, hidden beneath layers of calculated ruthlessness and unyielding authority.
"There," he said softly, his voice a low, soothing rumble. He met your gaze with those piercing blue eyes, now softened with concern. "You'll be alright. But next time, you come straight to me. Understood?"
You nodded, managing a weak smile. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby."
He tilted your chin up with a gentle hand, his thumb brushing away your tears. "Call me Tommy," he corrected, his voice tender. "And promise me, no more heroics, eh? Leave that to me."
"I promise, Tommy," you replied, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you didn't dare to name. The pain in your side seemed to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest.Â
Tommy helped you to your feet, his arm steady around your waist, providing support as you swayed slightly. Each step sent a jolt of pain through your body, but with his strong presence beside you, it felt a little more bearable. His grip was firm yet gentle, a silent promise of protection that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.
As you walked back into the main room of the Garrison, the remnants of the earlier brawl were still visible. Broken glass glinted on the floor, and overturned chairs lay scattered about. The other Peaky Blinders were busy restoring order, their expressions a mix of annoyance and grim determination.Â
Tommy guided you to a quieter corner, easing you into a chair before resting against the table beside you. He reached for a glass of water, handing it to you with a gentleness that seemed almost out of character for the hardened leader of the Peaky Blinders.
"Drink this," he instructed, his voice softer now, the rough edges smoothed out by genuine concern. "It'll help."
You took the glass, your hands trembling slightly as you sipped the cool water. The liquid soothed your parched throat, and you felt a bit of strength return to your limbs.Â
"Why didn't you say anything when it happened?" Tommy asked after a moment, genuine curiosity and concern lacing his words. He leaned in slightly, eyes searching yours for an answer, his brow furrowed with worry.
You looked down at your hands, the glass of water clutched between them. "I didn't want to cause more trouble," you admitted quietly. "I thought it was just a graze, and everyone already had so much to deal with."
Tommy's expression softened, his stern demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. He sighed, shaking his head gently. "You're anything but trouble, sweetheart," he told you, his tone firm yet kind.
Your eyes widened at his words, your heart skipping a beat. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he was merely being kind, but all you saw was sincerity.Â
"Thank you, Tommy," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you could manage in the moment.
He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear but from a profound sense of connection. "Donât scare me like that again, alright?" he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.
The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that intimate moment. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of belonging that you hadn't realized you craved. Tommy's touch was tender, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. You leaned into his hand, finding solace in the simple, yet profound gesture.
"Rest here for a bit," he said after a moment, his hand reluctantly pulling away, though his eyes remained fixed on yours. "I'll have someone take you home when you're ready."
He stood up, but not before softly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. His presence was a shield, a promise that he would protect you no matter what.Â
#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders one shot#tommy shelby one shot#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x you#hurt/comfort#fanfiction#fanfic request#peaky blinders request#tommy shelby fanfiction#tommy shelby fanfic
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For event:
Alfie Solomons with
A - âAsk me to stayâ + N - not good enough
Please. Thanks
A/n: hiiiiiii, i realized after i wrote it that i got over-excited and forgot the quote (the trope is there though!!) but i like this too much not to post it!
Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2229 Tags: angst, steam, canon-divergence, swearing, misogynistic themes
Alfie Solomons was a man of many vices and few virtues. Heâd gone to great pains to ensure that.Â
Usually this fact was one he lived proudly. He lived violently, lavishly, and with reckless abandon. Spent his money foolishly, shot his pistols carelessly, and slept with women thoughtlessly. This earned him a larger-than-life reputation in Camden Town. It impressed his employees, amused his business partners, and irritated his enemies. Alfie Solomons was a thorn in the side of propriety, and he loved it.
That changed quickly after meeting you.Â
Alfie wasnât entirely sure when that change happened - he couldnât finger a specific moment or blame any particular feeling - but he had realized some time ago that the man heâd spent his entire life growing into was suddenly a hindrance.
And it had never been clearer than now.
âMr. Solomons, I am not a man prone to jokes or levity, especially in moments as grave as this.â Your father was sitting across from Alfie, his back as straight as a whipping rod, hands splayed on the small kitchen table between them. He was taller than Alfie remembered, with shrewd dark eyes that bored straight into him. The absent smile of regret slid off Alfieâs face when he snapped back into the moment, dragged out of wistful reverie.Â
âNo, n-no sir.â A stutter? Alfie Solomons had never stuttered a day in his life, but here he was, reduced to a stuttering, sheepish shadow of himself in your kitchen. He could hear the slightest creak of a floorboard outside the kitchen door - no doubt you and your three younger sisters listening intently to the near-midnight conversation about your future.Â
âI must admit, Mr. Solomons, I am utterly perplexed. My daughter is a young woman with no means, very few prospects beyond that which marriage will afford her. It is my understanding that she intends to pursue a life in the church, in fact.â Alfieâs heart froze to solid ice in his chest. A nun? My god, what was this woman doing to him. Alfie Solomons swore silently to himself that heâd die before he saw you don a habit and wimple. The mere sight of that alone would kill him.
âYes sir, yes, I understand. I understand well.â
Your fatherâs eyes narrowed as it was rather obvious that Alfie Solomons did not, in fact, understand at all.
âShe is a good girl, but plain and modest in both looks, prospects, and background. Surely a man of your⊠stature-â your fatherâs voice pressed down on this word with distaste â- would have his pick of eligible brides.â
Alfie stifled a chuckle, recognizing that it would do him no good to appear cocky or dismissive of your fatherâs concerns. Your father was right on all accounts: Alfie Solomons was a gangster, a womanizer, and a criminal. You, on the other hand, were⊠well, words failed Alfie when it came to describing you, but to say you were everything that he was not was an understatement of the worst kind.Â
He settled on what he hoped was an appropriately chaste nod. Your father leaned back slightly in his chair, eyeing his eldest daughterâs apparent suitor with bald antipathy. Alfie wasnât used to people - especially other men - regarding him so openly. It made him uncomfortable in a manner he was quite unused to, as if he was being truly seen for the first time in a long time. He squirmed slightly in his chair, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the wide-brim of his best hat, something heâd had commissioned specifically for this occasion.Â
The silence between the two men was widening into a chasm. It was more than you could take. Suddenly unable to stop yourself, you leapt up from the crouch youâd been in for the last half hour, eavesdropping from the stairwell with your mother and younger sisters. You launched down the stairs, despite your sisters grabbing at your nightgown. Your mother gasped as you flung open the kitchen door, almost unseating Alfie in the process. Your kitchen was as modest as your future prospects, and with the three of you crammed into the space it was mighty tight. The added pressure of your nearly-dashed hopes, your fatherâs broad disappointment, and Alfieâs hopeless attachment to you turned the meager room from cozy to positively stifling.Â
âPapa, please! I love him! You canât keep me from him, I wonât let you!âÂ
Childish and painfully simple, not nearly the eloquent protest youâd been mulling over all day. And a lie to boot. If push came to shove - as it so often did with your father - he could very much keep you from marrying Alfie Solomons. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment at your outburst.
Alfie, for one, thought youâd never looked more perfect. Your eyes sparkled in the dim lamplight, your hair was undone and slung over one shoulder in a lazily constructed braid, small curls breaking free around your temples and forehead. Your skin flushed with the unseasonable warm of the September night in Camden Town, those beautiful pillowy lips he couldnât get out of his head parted and pink. If he was a coarser man and the situation less important, he felt sure heâd grab you and pull you onto his lap right then and there, bystanders and naysayers be damned.
âSaints above, mâdear, come away and cover yourself!â Your mother had been only a few steps behind you. Unable to step fully into the kitchen, she settled for tugging on your arm. Your blush deepened to a shade of red bordering on purple as you realized you were standing in nothing but a summer-thin nightgown. Alfieâs gaze hadnât made its way far enough from your face yet to take in the ample expanses of skin on display, but your father was glaring daggers into the opposite wall, his jaw set so tight you wondered his teeth didnât break.Â
Appropriately embarrassed, the element of surprise now lost to you, you bowed your head and let your mother tug you out of the kitchen. Your mother - a soft-souled romantic at heart - made gentle soothing motions against your back as silent sobs began to rack through you. You climbed the stairs in a fog, your sisters scattering at your motherâs insistence that âthe showâs over, girlsâ. With each step higher, you felt certain that the future youâd imagined for yourself with Alfie was destined to be nothing more than a far-flung dream.Â
The kitchen had sunk back into a tense silence, however for subtle reasons not quite clear to Alfie, your father seemed infinitely more disquieted by your scene than heâd have expected from the sour old puss. Those gnarled, knobby hands that had, until just a moment ago, been laid out like piles of kindling on the table all evening were suddenly clasped together and fidgety. Your father seemed shorter, his spine bowing under an invisible weight. Against himself, Alfie Solomons found himself leaning forward with a hint of concern.
âSir? Are you quite alright?âÂ
Your fatherâs gaze had lost none of its venom, although behind that mask of derision was a spark of emotion.Â
âHow did you manage it, Mr. Solomons?â The question was as quiet as snowfall in winter. Alfie almost had to ask him to repeat it.Â
âWhat, sir? Manage what, sir?â More stuttering. Gods be damned, Alfie Solomons was a mess. The image of you bursting into the kitchen, all softness and outrage and girlish desire, had tied him into knots.Â
âMy eldest daughter is many things, Mr. Solomons. A diligent student, a kind voice to her sisters, a steadfast helper to her mother. A pious child of God.â (Alfie struggled to keep himself from breaking into an impish grin, knowing that if your father had any inkling of the enthusiastic midnight rendezvous the two of you indulged in frequently that he most certainly would not dub you pious.) âAnd a passionate spirit, I confess. Yet⊠that part of her is⊠locked away.âÂ
Alfie found himself nodding, his memory dragging him back to the first few weeks of your acquaintance. Youâd been all business - all âyes, Mr. Solomonsâ and âright away, sirâ. But heâd seen that fire in you, the same fire your father spoke of. It simmered deep in your eyes and bubbled up when you laughed. It had sent Alfie to the brink of madness to come so close to something he wanted so badly and to be denied it. But with diligence, patience, and focus - all virtues that Alfie Solomons had gone to great lengths to rid himself of - heâd finally won you over. Heâd finally found that the fire inside you burned wild and free. You were raw and open and unfettered with him now. A gift heâd kill for. Hell, heâd die for it too.Â
âBut not with you, apparently.â Your fatherâs voice trailed off into quiet. Alfie wondered what he was meant to say. He settled on a noncommittal grunt of agreement.Â
âHow that came to be, I find myself unable to hazard a guessâŠâ Another probing gaze, the kind that made Alfie squirm. âAnd perhaps I wouldnât like the answer. In fact, IâŠâ Your father stopped suddenly, clearing his throat and straightening his crisp Sunday jacket. A ridiculously formal choice for the occasion, Alfie thought, although he realized he could hardly cast stones as he looked down at his freshest suit, newest hat, and shiniest shoes. It seemed both of them had understood the importance of this night, and of the things that hung in the balance with their words.
âI am quite shocked to hear myself say this, Mr. Solomons, and I urge you to leave quickly lest I reconsider. But yes. You may marry her.âÂ
Alfie wondered if heâd finally drank himself into madness. This surely was a dream, a whiskey-addled fever dream. He gaped openly at your father, stammering out nothing more than shocked noises.Â
âYou donât have my blessing, although I wonât stand in your way.âÂ
The door to the kitchen burst open again, and in you came once more, squealing and flying into a pair of outstretched arms. Alfie smiled as your father engulfed you in a surprised hug. You were bouncing on your toes, peppering the side of his freshly shaved face with kisses and earnest expressions of âoh thank you Papa! Thank you!â Alfie was glad to see that youâd thrown on a housecoat and pinned up your hair in a style more akin to what he was used to seeing you wear. He didnât trust himself around you with that just-woke-from-sleep blush on your lips.Â
Always trailing behind you, in rushed your three sisters and your mother, exclaiming and clapping their hands as if it were a jubilee. How the entire family - plus Alfie Solomons - managed to fit into that pint-sized kitchen was nothing short of a miracle. Hugs were exchanged, and Alfie kissed so many hands he wasnât sure whoâs high-pitched voice was talking to him anymore.Â
It wasnât until he felt your familiar weight balancing on the toes of his boots that he felt himself begin to swim into reality. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off your feet into his embrace. You squeaked with joy, your soft hands finding their way to frame his face. Tossing all rules of propriety to the wind, your lips connected with his in a defiant, joyful, and soft kiss. You were warm under Alfieâs hands, and he was glad that no one but you could hear the groan of need he let loose as he tasted you on his tongue. For a moment, he let himself lose time in your mouth, hands resisting the urge to roam across your backside and around the swell of your hips.Â
A pointed throat cleared, bringing Alfie Solomons down from the high.Â
âAs I suggested, Mr. Solomons, a timely exit would be a wise decision.â
Despite his generally somber countenance, Alfie could detect the faintest note of happiness in your fatherâs words. A confident declaration youâd made earlier that week drifted back to Alfie: Papa loves me, Alfie. Heâll have no choice but to say yes when he sees how in love we are.Â
Alfie hadnât believed a word of that back then, but he was grateful for your prescience. With a broad smile and a swelling heart, Alfie nodded graciously to your mother, sisters, father, and lastly to you, his bride-to-be, before making his exit. He donned his cap on the front steps outside your door, not minding the oppressive warmth of a sticky night even under his three layers of wool suit.
You stepped halfway out the door to wave shyly as Alfie retreated into the night, his feet barely touching the pavement beneath. He turned back more times than he could count to see you still standing there, bathed in the streetlampâs light. He rounded the corner at the end of your street with the warm realization that, in a few weeks time, thereâd be no more goodbyes from front stoops between the two of you. Only goodnight kisses - likely much more than that, if Alfie had any say at all - as one of you would turn down the bedside lamp, turning off the light on another happy day together in a future neither of you were sure would ever come to beâŠ
#peaky blinders requests#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfic#alfie solomons requests#alfie solomons fanfic#alfie solomons imagine#alfie solomons#alfie solomons x you#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons x y/n#tom hardy x reader#tom hardy x you#tom hardy x y/n
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Hi! Just wanted to say I love your writing and was wondering if I could request "overstimulation + praise kink" with Alfie Solomons from Peaky Blinders please? No pressure though and thank you!!
Thank you so much!! I love Alfie <333
Warnings: contains Overstimulation, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, praise kink
Pairing: Alfie Solomons x fem!reader
âThereâs a good girl,â
Alfieâs voice was low and gruff as he coaxed yet another orgasm from your oversensitive cunt, this time with his thick calloused fingers pumping deliciously in and out.
Your back arched, pushing your naked breasts against him, and you whimpered as your erect nipples grazed against his clothed chest. Eyes rolling back, your mouth went slack as slurred curses and groans of his name tumbled out in a muddled moan.
Alfie continued his ministrations, nosing at your neck and grazing his teeth against your throat, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. âDoing so well, pet,â he murmured, sucking a mark into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. âSuch a good, good fucking girl for me,â
As his thumb reached up to circle your clit, your legs clamped around his hand, squeezing his wrist as you rocked into his touch. White-hot pleasure seared painfully through every fibre of your being, but you werenât willing to throw in the towel just yet. You could feel your own wetness smeared on your neck and chest, transferred from Alfieâs beard to your skin once he emerged from between your legs. He had drawn out several releases just from his tongue, and now he had moved onto using his fingers to tease you open, swirling your slick and his saliva around your sensitive pussy until you shook over and over with pleasure.
âThink youâre ready for my cock?â
It was a stupid question; of course you were ready for his cock, and you had been for the best part of two hours. You had even begged for it⊠about four orgasms ago. âPlease,â you whispered again. âPlease, need it, Alf, please!â
âSo pretty when you beg, darlinâ,â he told you, kneeling between your thighs and shucking off his shirt, before tugging himself from his pants. You groaned at the sight of his heavy cock, pushing your hips up towards him. He smirked, holding the base in his fist as he lined up with your entrance, running the tip up and down your wet slit. âGonna be a good girl and milk my cock?â
When you nodded eagerly, he grinned, pushing forward, stretching you out in a way his fingers never could. âFuck⊠good girl, YN, love⊠take my cock so well, you do,â You moaned, already trying to rock your hips up and down, eager for him to ruin your overstimulated cunt. âMy good little pet, drunk on my cock,â he grunted, starting to snap his hips against yours.
It only took a few thrusts before your overworked pussy was spasming uncontrollably around him, and he held onto your thighs, holding you close to him to keep his cock inside you. âFuck⊠good girl,â he praised, and smirked as you tried to wriggle away. âBut Iâm not done with this perfect cunt just yet,â
#alfie solomons smut#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons#alfie solomons fanfiction#Alfie Solomons x you#alfie solomons x y/n#Alfie solomons blurb#peaky blinders blurb#request
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