#reader x cillian

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fic. (Part One)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful, and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes, so not really designed for under 18s but not overly graphic.

We Got Issues

PART ONE: Y/N was the other woman at one point, but life had been sailing along well since Cillian's divorce. Y/N had reached a point where she knew where she wanted their life together to go, only to find a spanner in the works when Cillian admits his mind has changed... [Angst]

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

You wake up and instantly realise how cold it is. 

The bed is empty and the sheets are thrown back. You reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time - 2.40am. You clear your throat and glance to the chair in the corner of the bedroom, strewn with discarded clothes, just in case he's sitting there. But he isn't. The room feels empty and you suddenly feel that same emptiness dump heavily in your stomach. You sit up and throw your legs over the side of the bed. As you stand, you reach to the floor for your discarded knickers and vest top, pulling them on as you walk around the bed. “Cillian?” You call into the darkness, wondering if he's in the bathroom. “Cillian?” You reach for the slightly ajar door and pull it open. The landing is dark, but at the bottom of the stairs there's a shred of light coming from the open plan kitchen below and you know it's been one of those nights for him once the sex was over and sleep had claimed you. You walk barefooted down the carpeted stairs, your hands on the wall for stability, and step onto the cool laminate of the floor below. You stand a moment, taking in the large room around you with a small, if a little tired, smile. You still feel a mix of emotions in your gut, but the love is stronger.

The kitchen island is illuminated by the artsy hanging lights above and there's a faint smell of coffee in the air. It's chilly, and you wrap your arms around yourself as you begin to walk towards the island. He's sitting on the middle stool, his back arched as he leans forwards with his elbows resting on the counter top, and there's a steaming cup of coffee to his right whilst both of his hands are wrapped around an open book. His grown out fringe is down over his face, which has to be annoying, but he doesn't move it. His checked pyjama bottoms are loose around his legs and they swing a little as he bounces his right leg up and down, foot resting on the bar of the stool. This movement is both absent minded and a sign of him feeling uneasy - you don't know which it is, but you assume it's the latter. His glasses are perched on the edge of his nose and still he hasn't looked up. Then you notice his phone, laid on the counter, with the long, white wire of his earphones connected and trailing up beside his arm. He'll be playing that album again, you're certain, and his mind will be a mixture of John Lennon and whichever of the six books he's chosen this time. 

You don't want to startle him - hell, you hardly want to bother him at all, he looks so absorbed and ridiculously adorable and you still can't make up your mind if you're mad or you want him - but it's that adorable absorption that makes you want to disturb him, too. You walk closer, your feet silent on the floor, and you unlace your arms as you reach the island. You place your hands onto the marble top and wait a moment, just in case he sees you out of the corner of his eye. But he doesn't budge, and you smirk to yourself at the studious look on his face. God, it's only been a couple of hours but you'd have him again if he offered it. You slowly push your left hand across the counter and wiggle your fingers, hoping the movement will draw his attention so you don't have to make him jump. It works - sort of. He startles slightly, looking to his right as your fingers do indeed catch his attention, and he drags his earphones out with a catch in his breath. 

“Fuck!” He shakes his head, placing down the book. He reaches his hand out and taps pause on his music. He sets the earphones down in a messy pile beside the phone. 

“Sorry,” you smile a little as you draw back your hand. 

Removing his glasses, he shakes his head. “No, you're alright.” He whisperers but neither of you know why. Nobody else is here. He sets the glasses down beside his coffee, the arms of them still stretched out, and turns on the stool to face you properly. 

“Couldn't sleep?” You ask him as you reach out for his coffee to take for yourself. He doesn't protest, but smiles as he rolls his eyes. He should have known you would do it - you always did. He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly again as he shakes his head. He reaches up with his right hand and pushes his hair from his eyebrow. He looks tired, and as you sip his coffee you want to ask what's on his mind. “Are you alright?” You settle on. Not sure you are fully ready for a lovey-dovey conversation but not at all wishing him unrest. It's been an argument, that's all.

“Grand,” he flattens his mouth into a thin line and raises his eyebrows. A lie, and an obvious one. He knows he isn't fooling you, and he knows you'll press him for answers, but this is the dance he does. Every time. 

“Cillian.” You raise your eyebrows as you place the mug onto the counter. You lean forwards, resting your forearms onto the cold marble, and fix him with the eyes you know break him eventually. “C’mon.” 

“Just couldn't sleep,” he says. He puts his left elbow on the counter and rests his head in his left palm. “Didn't want to lay up there and disturb you.” 

“You feel bad now, for tonight and Friday?” You ask him. You can't quite believe yourself for speaking up, for chancing another argument, but you need to get it out. 

Friday had been horrendous. You'd argued in the restaurant, he'd hated the attention it drew when the attention was already there. He'd begged you to lower your voice, but that had only made you angrier. He'd been in touch with his ex-wife that day - that itself was not unusual, they have children - but when he'd brought it up that he'd spoken with her, it had been half way through you slowly opening up about your readiness, now, to be more committed, to start the family you'd been nervous about starting. He shut it down, the whole line of conversation but what hurt the most was he'd shut it down by talking about her. The row had continued in the taxi home, and at the front door, and even louder once the door was shut. There'd been insults and old hurts thrown in one another's faces, and you'd reminded him that you'd been the other woman at one point, so how could you trust him? You'd hated yourself for it, but it had flown from your mouth in total anger and once it was out there, you'd not been able to take it back. 

Now it was the early hours of Sunday morning and Saturday had been about ignoring one another, before finally he'd broken and forced you both to sit at this very island and talk. You'd apologised for what you said, for your loudness in the restaurant and he'd apologised for his timing and shutting you down. You'd cuddled on the sofa for an hour, paying little attention to the film he'd selected, and had continued to try to make one another feel loved again. But he still hadn't welcomed the conversation about children, and you'd let it go. By eleven pm he'd taken you by the hand and, with a half-lidded look and a soft smile had guided you up the stairs. The sex had been slow and sensual - all hands over the body and languid kisses; as vanilla as it got but it was so soft and loving that zero complaints had arisen. That was until he'd reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom and you felt your heart flutter angrily. But you'd said nothing, and you'd wrapped your arms around his back as he fucked slowly into you with his face close to your ear and his soft, gentle huffs of breath against your cheek. He'd cum - you hadn't. You weren't angry anymore, but you felt unheard. He'd laid beside you, his hand on your hip as you turned your back to him and curled into the sheets. You'd wanted to cry, such a mix of intense love and horrible rejection, and you'd kept your face away from his as you'd fallen asleep. 

You keep your eyes on him and realise you're probably a little stern faced, but you can't shift it entirely. He nods his head against his hand. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly, “I know we'd talked about things before, but I can't���start again like that.” The Ts at the end of his words are smudgy and soft - his accent was always thicker when he whispered - and it gives you the same tingles it always has. 

“So why ever tell me you would?” You ask. He'd talked you round, persuaded you that a family would be a good idea. And then he shuts the talk down when you raise it, and grabs a fucking condom?! “You wanted a baby six months ago.” You point out, “But she calls and all of a sudden it's changed?” 

“I've two grown kids, Y/N, it just feels like it wouldn't be fair on them.” He sniffs, and you absorb the words. The excuse. “I know they're not babies, but Y/N, I'm still their Dad.” 

“Oh so it's about the boys? It's not because you've changed your mind about me?” You ask, almost nervous. There's contempt in your tone and his eyes flash at the sound of it. 

“Ah, stop it.” He becomes more animated. “No. I have not.” He insists. “Y/N, would you drop the face? It's been three years, for fuck sake!” He raises his head from his hand and those crinkles around his eyes deepen and he frowns and squints. “I'm sorry I mentioned her and the kids when you were talking. I wasn't trying to end the conversation, I swear. Sure, it just came into me head. I dunno. And I'm sorry about the fucking condom, alright?” 

“It's just a bit fucking funny, isn't it? You're apologising for going back on things you said, and you do so by going back even fucking further.” You throw your arms out to the sides. “Don't fucking roll your eyes at me, Cillian.” You warn as his blue eyes settle back and he quirks up his left eyebrow. The attitude is back in him now, the temper people rarely see. So calm, so well mannered - that's the Cillian he presents. But you've been party to the fierce rows and heard the drunken anger, and you know it intimately. 

You watch him shifting, and he drops his feet to the floor and stands up off the stool. The large pyjama t-shirt is miles too big for him and too short at the same time, but in it and his bottoms he looks comfortable and pleasingly domestic. The life you wanted was just this - comfort, familiar, familial. He scrubs his hands over his face and forces his hair back. He holds his hands on his head for a moment then drops his arms, and his hair slowly flops back down onto his forehead again. “What do you want me to fucking say, Y/N?” He asked, spreading his arms wide beside him. “I can't go back and change things.” 

“No, you can't.” You say, shaking your head, “But you use a condom for the first time in weeks right after I tell you I'm finally in the place you wanted me to be? And now you're looking at me like I'm holding you accountable for something you don't deserve.” Your anger is back, but the look on his face is stirring your stomach. You hate yourself for knowing you'd let him take what he wanted if he turned this into something sexual. You want him to know he's hurt you, with his fucking flip-flopping, but you love the love so much you'd let it go if he begged the right way. “You couldn't have found time at all in the last little while to tell me you'd changed your mind?” 

He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pyjama bottoms and it pulls them tightly around his crotch. He shrugs his shoulders and he doesn't look forty-eight at all. “I didn't want to hurt ye,” his accent is thicker still and you can tell he is going over many emotions in his mind. “I know I pushed ye, I know I brought it up, but this last few weeks, I dunno, I think I've just changed what I want with us.” 

“You talked with her about it?” You ask him, your fears coming out of your mouth before you even knew you'd thought them. They had history, he and his ex-wife, of course they did - the years they'd been married, their children, their experiences, how could they not still have ties and links that you'd never understand? But you weren't the other woman anymore, and he'd persued you… 

He shakes his head, “No I fucking didn't.” He insists and you believe him - immediately. 

“So what do you want with us?” you ask and you're almost scared to hear the answer. 

“Us.” He says quietly. “Jesus, Y/N. I want us. I want the fucking softness and-and the love. You and me, for fuck sake.” He draws his hands from his pockets and walks towards you. “Y/N, I don't have regrets, I don't, and I need you to believe that. But I can't start all over again with the babies, and-and the fucking…” he trails off and he reaches his hands up, cupping them around your biceps. 

Your skin puckers in goosebumps at his touch - it always does - and those fucking eyes stare into yours as you study his face. Every line, every freckle, every speck of stubble - you've stared at this face for so long now, making every conceivable expression, that you know it more than he does. He's sorry, you know, and he's ashamed of his actions but you can see he means what he's saying too. He has changed his mind, and it hurts you that he couldn't have just said as much. “You asked me to let you know when I knew what I wanted.” You whisper, eyes flicking side to side as you struggle which eye to settle on. “And when I do, you're not there.” 

“You took too long.” He says and you can see he regrets the words as soon as his full lips have allowed them to escape. 

You shrug off his hands and step back, shaking your head. “You prick.” 

“Y/N that's not what I meant.” He insists. 

“Of course it is! I took too long to be ready to have a baby, and now the novelty has worn off and you've changed your fucking mind.” you growl at him - anger is winning again. 

“Novelty…” he mutters and shakes his head. “You want a fucking baby, we'll have a fucking baby.” He's angry now and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You know he doesn't mean it, but it makes you feel validated for a mere second. “You want me to fucking cum into you, I'll fucking cum into you. Fuck sake, Y/N. This isn't about you being ready, or me changing my mind - this is about you constantly battling with a woman I haven't been married to for three fucking years.” He rages, and the Cork accent is so thick he's clipping words and deepening his voice left and right, and if you weren't so fucking angry you'd take off your knickers and hold him to his promise. He's pacing and you watch him hungrily. “You've no idea what you want, girl, and I've no fucking clue how to keep up with ye. You don't want a fucking baby, and now I've got used to that fact and rearranged my view on our fucking future, you've done a fucking u-turn and now you fucking want a baby? I don't fucking know what you fucking want, but I'll tell you what I don't want, and that's the constant fucking feeling of you waiting on me going back to her.” he jabs out his left hand. “I've two sons, Y/N!” He yells, “And I've to show them that you can leave a relationship if it's not working, but by fucking Christ, boy, you don't leave your kids and I've realised while you were making up your mind that if we have a baby, then what does that tell the boys? Eh? It tells them I've moved fucking on and replaced them. Doesn't it?!” 

“No!” You shout. “They love you, they know we're happy, and they'd be happy for you if we had a child. And I don't think you'll go back to her - I don't.” You insist. But you did, at least at the start of all this. You'd been fearful he'd change his mind about the woman who'd been his bit on the side and realise he'd made a mistake. He hadn't, and you'd gotten over it, but he clearly still saw something in you that made him think those thoughts hadn't left you. 

“So why's it so much of a fucking problem that I changed my fucking mind?” He asks, and slowly the anger is reducing and his accent is still thicker but the volume is lower. 

“Because you didn't tell me.” You say. “You waited for me, and you didn't tell me that you didn't want that anymore.” You feel hot and frustrated, and you're fighting with the want to drag him to the L-shaped sofa and to slap him around his sharp cheek. “You're warm and sweet, you're attentive and fucking loving, but you don't let me in your fucking head half the time, Cillian. I can't read your bloody mind! And it's not that you changed your mind - I can take that, I swear, a baby isn't fucking everything. But you cut our conversation and your apology fuck included a fucking condom.” 

He drops back his head, staring up at the ceiling, and his hands are on his hips. When he straightens up again, his eyes are closed and you just want to see them to know what he's feeling. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are wide. “I'm sorry,” he offers again and he flicks his head slightly to move his fringe from his eyes. “I know, okay?” he sighs. “I'm sorry.” 

“I know,” you say quietly. This argument is stupid, and you know it, but you feel hurt that he didn't just speak up sooner. You told your arms under your bust and sigh. He crosses the small distance between you again and he wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you in against his frame. You unlace your arms from between you and wrap them around his shoulders and back, inhaling the smell of his skin from the crook of his neck. He's still whispering his sorries as he holds you tightly and you close your eyes as he sways your body slightly. You reach up your right hand and cup the back of his head - his hair is soft and growing out nicely. At the softness of your affection, he squeezes you tighter and you sigh against his skin and softly press your lips to the curve of his neck and shoulder. 

“Still mad?” He asks softly into your ear, his arms not loosening at all. 

It takes you a moment to consider your emotional stance. “No.” You whisper against his skin, and you smile a little as he holds you impossibly tighter. Slight though his physique is, his arms possess a warming strength. And then he slowly loosens his hold, prompting you to drop your arms, and you stand close and staring at one another. 

“I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before now.” He says with an intensity in his eyes that holds you captive. 

You nod slowly. “I know you are.” 

He raises his right eyebrow and you know that's the side he raises when he isn't in the brightest of moods. “You know I am?” He says, and quirks his head slightly. “Sure, it's not the response I was expecting.” 

“You want me to say it's okay? Or that it's all forgotten?” You shrug. “I can't. I know you're sorry, Cill, I know that. But it doesn't erase it.” 

He tenses his jaw and the action purses his full lips. “Right,” he raises both eyebrows and his attitude is clear - he's angry, and perhaps he too has that right, but you feel as though you're in the right this time around.

This is going to keep going in circles. 

You sigh deeply and instinctively fold your arms under your bust. Rolling your eyes, you turn towards the stairway. “I'm going back to bed.” 

“No,” he calls out, and you hear his feet pad against the hard floor beneath. “Y/N! Don't be ridiculous,” he says. For a moment you're held by how he says the word - ridi’clous, dropping the middle U. You stop, a single step away from reaching the bottom of the stairs, and as you turn back to him you drop your arms at your sides. He's flustered and disheveled as his hair falls back into his eyes, and you wonder for a moment if you've punished him enough. He holds both hands out before him, gesticulating wildly as he stammers over his words in that way of his - he has a point to make, and he's keen for it to be unable to be misconstrued. “I did talk to her.” He says, and you can see the pain on his face as he admits his actions - and his lie. “Yvonne, I talked to her - a-about changing my mind, about not-not knowing what I wanted anymore, and then when I did fucking know, I talked to her about that, too.” 

Your brows knit together at the bridge of your nose as you listen to every stumbled word and softened T, and you feel a gust of butterflies in your stomach. You swallow and it hurts your throat. “So,” you pause and wet your lips. “You talked to her about it, the woman you left three years ago, but you couldn't find five fucking minutes to tell me, the woman you've been fucking sleeping with, living with, all this time?” You shake your head and you're desperate not to cry. Your eyes sting and your throat constricts, and if you were the type of person to do so, you'd have slapped his face twice by this point. “You fucking…,” you laugh, shaking your head, absolutely certain that you look maniacal. You sniff as your resolve not to cry weakens as the tears pool hot in your eyes. “And here was me, wondering if I was being too techy.” You say, and you bit your bottom lip in anxiety. Releasing it, you shake your head again. “Why?” 

He's staring at you, eyes sad and serious, and the crystal blue is darkened somehow. His hands are back in his pockets and he shrugs his shoulders slowly. “I don't know. She was on the phone. We were talking about the kids, we were…just talking. And I just talked.” He sighs and it shudders in his chest. 

“So you have changed your mind about everything? About me?” You ask, nervous for the answer now that he seems able to be honest. 

“Ah, Y/N, no.” He insists earnestly. “God, no. No, I haven't. Jesus, I love you. You know this.” 

“But you couldn't tell me all of this, and instead went back to her.” You raise your voice, hand jutting out to the near distance to signify ‘the ex wife’. You couldn't even bring yourself to say her name. You look past him to the large clock on the wall above the cooker in the kitchen area behind him, watching three am tick in just at that moment. “I'm going back to bed.” You repeat your earlier sentiment and place your hand on the banister before looking him dead in the eyes. “Don't you fucking dare follow me.” 

[tootiredtobenice]

[actually-mentally-ill]

finding out making up whole detailed scenarios with fictional characters in your head is a “sign of mental illness”

[venusbyline]

i can fix him (no really i can)

[mydear-corinthian]

phone call

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

pairing - tommy shelby x reader / thomas shelby x reader

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

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

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

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

"Oh my God- yes, Thomas!"

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

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

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

Who the fuck is calling at this hour?

Tommy picked the phone up, not leaving the bed.

"Thomas Shelby." he answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who was that?" you asked.

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

"You think they.. heard me?"

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

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

Another round.

[ml080504]

somebody: what do you like about men twice your age?

me: where do i start?

[vigiluv]

Help, i have a chronic obsession with nerdy and weird mfs

[queenshelby]

what the actual … I couldn’t finish my sentence because I just fainted!

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

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

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

~~

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming

[cherrycranes]

A Proper Thank You (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're Tommy's younger girlfriend who he loves to spoil. Thankfully, you always know how to thank him. Word count: 2,954 Contents: (Minors DNI) Age gap (reader is in her 20's, Tommy is in his 40's), smut, daddy kink (a serious use of the word "daddy"), oral sex (male receiving), cum eating. Author's notes: Another collab with my bestie @fuckiingloser. Don't forget to give her some love too! Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Love ya!

You were not the first young woman to be with a man in his 40's. It was still very common even if the times were changing. But there was something about this relationship that did mirror the societal shift. You were his sweet girlfriend who he paraded around town, who shamelessly sat on his lap while he worked and who shared his bed. Quite the scandal for those still stuck in Victorian times who would expect this to happen only between a married couple. Good thing the Victorian times had ended over 30 years ago. 

Tommy loved having you by his arm half of the time. The other half he loved having you under him. Or on top, he wasn't picky. He got a kick out of the variety of looks some people would give him for having a pretty, young girl as his sweetheart. But above all things, he absolutely adored the way his pretty baby looked at him whenever he spoiled her rotten.

Today, you went with him to a horse ranch near Southam. A lovely place where Tommy intended to see that beautiful look in your eyes once more. He smirked, seeing you caress a beautiful mare’s nuzzle, the animal calm and docile under your touch.

“Aye, I think she likes you.” Tommy announced with pride, already planning to buy the horse for his beautiful girlfriend.

“You think?” You turned your head to look at him and admire his poise. The cigarette kissing his lips, the fine dark suit, the piercing blue eyes. So intimidating to many, so dear to you. “She’s beautiful…” Your thoughts and eyes returned to the mare, giving her another soft pet.

“You two make a very pretty picture, baby girl.” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out skillfully before making his way to you. His big arms wrapped around you from behind while he rested his chin on your shoulder. You smirked when a surprisingly sweet kiss was planted on the side of your head. Thomas Shelby was never sweet to anyone, not even in the dark humor jokes of those who knew him. His portrait could have easily been annexed to the definitions of “rugged”, “serious” and even “ruthless”, yet, here he was. This was what his lips that had spat out curses and threats were doing. Kissing. And very gently at that. 

Above all women, you had a special place in his soul. You had him wrapped around your finger like those expensive rings you wore. Anything you wanted, you could have it. And if tomorrow you were to ask for a heart on a silver plate, he would tear anybody’s chest open and serve it to you himself.

You leaned into him, just in time to meet his husky whisper:

“If you want her baby… She’s yours.” 

With a big, spoiled princess grin, you turned around and looked at him in complete elation.

“Thank you, daddy!” Your sweetness intoxicated him, the way you looked into his eyes killed him, and the way you called him “daddy” raised him from the dead. He absolutely loved it. 

A calloused hand came up to touch your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over your bottom lip. He admired the joy upon your beautiful face and studied it devotedly.

“Anything for my girl.” He spoke softly, his sexy Birmingham accent made your knees feel weak and your pussy become wetter. In a heartbeat, Thomas spoke to the farm owner, purchased the mare without even caring about the cost and made the necessary arrangements so you could have your pretty horse. 

After a successful purchase, Thomas helped you into the passenger seat of his car, driving you back to town. You would have your horse tomorrow morning, right now, business called.

He drove you to the Garrison, the Shelby's family owned pub for a Peaky Blinder business meeting. Usually, women were not allowed, but you were not just a woman. You were Thomas Shelby’s woman. And the people who knew would rather chop a limb off than dare to deny you access.

With his hand on your lower back, Tommy guided you inside the rowdy bar towards the private Peaky Blinders table. Everybody was waiting for your arrival between sips of irish whiskey and puffs of smoke. Thomas took a seat and you took yours on his lap, the feeling of your weight on him as natural as the feeling of air entering his lungs. 

The men at the table did not bat an eye, your presence was the new normality. And in a way, a sign that things were good, that Thomas was relaxed and no conflicts were on the horizon. If something bad or difficult was preying upon them, you would be hidden away in some safe heaven and not happily sitting on Tommy’s lap. Perhaps, the only other emotion a few of the men could feel when looking at you was a secret, deeply buried longing. Anybody would love to have a beauty like you sitting on their lap. Not that they would allow Thomas to hear them admit that.

The meeting started around you, some usual business and many details you didn’t care for. Thomas concentrated, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your clothed thigh. You liked the skirt you wore, the fabric was soft, and it incited Tommy to touch. It was not exactly close to the feeling of your bare skin when you fucked him, or when he would make you sit naked on his lap while he worked in his house studio, but it was pleasant. 

The more the meeting dragged on, the more you started to grow restless. And a little bored, in all honesty. Sitting on his lap sounded glamorous and sensual in theory but in practice it was a test of resilience and patience. Being a sweet arm candy girl like you required more than a pretty face and a hot body. You also had to possess the skills to tell when a meeting was dying out and calculate the exact perfect moment to lean closer to Tommy’s ear and whisper something to save you from boredom.

“You know… I never properly thanked you today for getting me my beautiful horse… I think daddy needs a proper thank you…” Thomas turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk.

“Is that right?” He leaned closer to you until your noses bumped together, giving your thigh a squeeze. “And just how would you thank daddy, then? Hmm?” He whispered, the meeting a mere background noise now. You leaned towards his ear again, whispering so quietly so only Tommy could hear.

“I wanna suck your cock… Or you can fuck me over your desk in the back?” You purred so innocently despite the pure filth of your words. His cock told you all you needed to know about his opinion. The twitch inside his pants impossible to miss. You pulled back to stare into his eyes and take in his tiny smirk. He knew that resistance was futile and completely incompatible with him when it came to you.

Without excusing words or explanations to the other gentlemen, Thomas scooted you two out of the booth, taking your hand and guiding you to the back. He kicked the small office door open and locked you both in. You could almost feel his piercing blues tracing the shape of your ass under that fashionable skirt you wore. 

“So...” You started, walking over to his desk and luring him to take a few steps closer to you. He towered over you, his rough hands touched your hips with interest. “How does daddy want me?” You purred innocently, looking into his eyes.

Thomas’ cock hardened even more in his dress pants. Your figure, your soft face, your pretty eyes, your voice, you. Lust took over his eyes.

 “On your knees baby… you know what daddy wants.” His voice was husky, overcome with his need for you and your pretty little mouth. You grinned, a hungry look in your eyes replicating his own. Steadily, you sunk to your knees, the fabric of your skirt your only padding on the cold floor. Tommy leaned against his desk and watched you work your magic. Your fingers undid the button of his pants with torturous care.

“You know… If you wanted to fuck me in front that whole room of men… I’d let you. I’d let you do whatever you want to me..” You were a tease, you killed him slowly. His breath hitched a bit, his possessive streak driving him to total insanity. You were right. You would let him do anything he wanted. He knew. But hearing you say that made the fire of his lower stomach ignite him whole.

“Oh, I know you would… You’d be my good little girl, wouldn’t you?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your beautiful face. You nodded so innocently, and then lowered his pants down until they pooled around his ankles.

“I'll always be your good girl… I’ll always please you and let you use me however you need…” You whispered back, a soft sensual smile gracing your lips. Tommy couldn’t help but groan at your words, his painfully hard cock pulsing in his boxer briefs right in front of your face.

“God, you’re such a good girl… You’ll be good for daddy now won’t you?” He cooed. 

“Always.” You purred in devotion. Your hands reached up to grab the band of his boxers and, with one swift, well trained motion, pulled them down. His large throbbing cock sprung free for you to drool over. Mere inches away from your face. 

“You gonna thank your daddy properly, hmm?” He asked with a sexy smirk, heavily accented and incredibly husky. You nodded obediently, your eyes going from his beautiful irises to his hard cock. It had been over four months since you became his sweetheart and you still felt enamored at his sheer size.

“Yes daddy…” You answered softly then looked back up to his pretty blue eyes. “Gonna suck your cock and drain these perfect balls just how you like…” You made it a point to speak so innocently, stirring something in him. He could have lost himself right then and there from your words alone. It took him a second to fully take in the idea. The dirtiest promises coming from the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

“Fuck baby… You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that?” He asked in a playful little smirk, and you attacked. Your soft hand wrapped around his aching hard cock. He groaned softly.

“But at least you’ll die happy.” You purred, gifting him a few seconds to prepare himself before finally leaning in to swirl your tongue skillfully over the head of his dripping cock. Thomas let out a guttural moan, his hand gripping his desk behind him in an attempt to steady himself. His head fell back, the texture of your wet, warm tongue erasing each and every thought off his mind. It all became you and you only. You licking him, tasting his sensitive tip, you pleasing him.

“Fuck, baby… My perfect girl…” He managed to choke out, affected yet addicted. Your tongue swirled over him expertly, and you looked up at him. A sweet happy hum reverberated in your throat as you tasted the salt of his precum. Every drop that ran down his tip not making it far thanks to your eager licks. Your hum sent vibrations up his cock, making him feel like his knees were about to buckle under him. The only time he appreciated feeling vulnerable.

Tommy looked down at you servicing him, taking your sweet time on his sensitive tip. The fire in your eyes recognized his and burnt with it. 

“Holy-f-fuck.. my girl knows how to suck her daddy’s cock so good….” He groaned, and you took more of his lengthy cock in your mouth, working your way down and sucking it, your tongue massaging it slowly.

He tried his best to maintain his composure and control, but another swirl of your tongue made him admit to himself that he would not last long.

“F-fuck, baby girl… You keep going like that…” He groaned, gripping the edge of the wooden desk harder and urging you.

You bobbed your head on his cock in a skillful rhythm. The sounds coming from you were so filthy and obscene. Nothing could have torn his gaze away from you. It was a war between him and his throbbing cock. He wanted more, desperately needed more, but his orgasm neared closer than his next breath.

 “You’re too good to me, baby girl… You’re gonna make daddy come… And it’s gonna be right in your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna take every last drop, aren’t you?” He cooed with one hand touching the top of your head for support. You bobbed your head, up and down his shaft, with your nose bumping his pelvic area. You looked up and hummed in response. You always swallowed.

Noting his increasing pleasure, you pushed yourself to take more of his thick cock. You gagged a little and earned a loud moan from him akin to music to your ears.

“Goood girl… Good girl.” With his praise like a mantra, he watched over you, almost out of breath. “That's it. I'm gonna come for you… ‘m gonna come in this mouth and you’re gonna swallow all of it, aren’t you baby?” He repeated, unaware by now. No thoughts inside his head, only your perfect mouth that pulled back for just a second.

 “Yes, daddy.” You purred, looking up at him with innocent eyes before taking him in your mouth again, this time working faster and with much more intensity. Constantly swiping against the underside of his thick cock.

Thomas had to resist the urge of bucking into your mouth and fuck your face just the way he likes, but he found the willpower to stay calm. This was all about you pleasing him, putting that mouth of yours to work and thanking him. 

“Good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl…” He praised, his orgasm so close to hitting him and knocking him flat out. “Now, remember, baby girl… What’s my rule?” His voice almost cracked. Dominance was a hard thing to upkeep when his balls tightened this hard and your throat hummed around him. Your pussy grew wetter at the mention of the rule, one you had committed to memory.

“Before you can swallow, you have to show it to daddy... Need to see my come all over your pretty tongue, hmm?” Thomas said, barely hanging on at this point. One of his hands holding your hair back and the other gripping the desk behind him for stability.

You hummed as loud and as best as you can, his thick cock barely giving up space for sound to travel. You kept sucking him, and his resistance was hung on by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. His moans, his heavy breaths, the hot puffs of air he lets out, the way his cock throbbed in your  mouth… You wanted him done for. 

Your hand came up, gently cupping his balls and giving them a soft squeeze. His breath hitched and he cursed under his breath.

“Holy fuck, baby-” He choked out, and everything snapped inside him. “Coming..” That was the only word he managed to utter before his resolve crumbled and his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. His hand grabbed your hair firmly, but not painfully, keeping you there, ready to take it all.

Your movements stopped in anticipation and his cock pulsed inside your mouth. A salty load of cum coated your tongue completely and his sensual low groan filled your ears. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and his lips stayed parted. When every last drop was unloaded, he opened his eyes back again and looked at you intently.

“Show daddy…” He murmured, his voice a little strained. You obeyed, pulling off him and sitting back on your knees. With pride, you stuck out your cum-painted tongue for his viewing pleasure.

“My good girl.” Tommy praised. You were indeed so good. So obedient. So perfect for him. “You can swallow now, baby girl.” 

His hand petted the top of your head with appreciative softness, and you, living up to his praise, did as he said. The salt taste of his cum mixing with your saliva before passing down your throat. A soft hum of approval coming from you made him smile ever so gently.

He reached down to pull up his pants, tucking his now soft, sensitive and tired cock back into his boxers and buttoning his dress pants. He reached his hands down, pulling you up from the floor easily into his arms. When you were close to his face, you gave him a cheeky little smile. His hands cupped your face and gently pulled you in for a burning hot, passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, making him taste himself on you. A pervertedly satisfied smile crept into the kiss.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You know… If all it took to get you to do that for me is to buy you a horse… I think I'll buy you a horse, or anything else you want every single day for the rest of your life.” Tommy whispered in a mix of sensuality but also pure, deep love. 

Your eyes twinkled a bit and a soft smile appeared on your face. He was just as obsessed with you as you were with him. 

“Deal”.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fic. (Part Four)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful, and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes so not intended for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Four: Y/N knows how much it means to Cillian to see his sons, and she feels for him when the day doesn't entirely go as he'd wanted it to. Something he says stirs yet another concern in her mind, but she's keen to do as he says and not focus on her anxiety. Not only that, but she's desperate to ensure he knows he's got her support. By the time her birthday arrives, he shows her in a sweeping gesture just what she means to him. [Bonding/domestic chapter, nothing sexual]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @lavender-haze-01

.....

“Back!” From the kitchen you have a clear view to the front door further down the large space, and you look up from the hob as Cillian closes the front door with Aran trailing beside him.

“Hiya,” you call out. “How's it going, Aran?” You ask as he walks slowly towards you.

“Yeah, alright,” Aran replies with a slow nod. God, he's getting like his father more and more each time you see him, you think. He stands at the edge of the kitchen island with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Your Dad said Malachy’s at his girlfriend's?” You raise your eyebrows, looking for anything to make conversation with the lad. He'll take his time warming up to being here - he always does.

“Barely leaves her these days,” Aran says quietly but there's an amused smirk on his lips.

Cillian laughs as he reappears, having been throwing his coat and shoes into the under stairs cupboard. “What's her name?” he asks, standing beside Aran in an almost identical stance.

“Aoife,” Aran says.

“What happened to Laura?” Cillian raises one eyebrow and Aran cracks a genuine smile.

“They only went on a few dates,” he says. “Anyway, I know Aoife. She's alright. Her sister's in my year at school.”

“Youse didn't fancy double dating?” Cillian teases and you can see the slight awkwardness that takes over his son's face.

“You've plenty of time for girls, Aran.” You say gently. “Do you want a drink?” You offer, “Help yourself in the fridge.” You gesture behind you. “We got those water things you like.” You always feel awkward for the first little while when the boys come around, and you know they do too, but by the time it came for Cillian to be driving them home again, you were all usually slagging and teasing like the best of friends. “Cill, where's the gravy jug?” You ask, peering around in the cupboard above your head. Before you've even turned to look at him, Cillian draws up behind you with his hands on your hips, and his head on your shoulder, and he stares into the cupboard along with you. “Two heads are only better than one if the other one looks elsewhere.” You joke, tapping against his cheek with the flat of your hand. “It isn't in there.” You nod towards the cupboard.

“Must've gone into a different press last weekend.” Cillian suggests. He turns to kiss your cheek before releasing you. He wanders the kitchen, opening doors and searching for the aforementioned jug.

As you close the cupboard door you catch Aran's expression and feel bad - he looks out of place, somewhat disgusted even, and you know it's because Cillian had been affectionate with you. You take a deep breath and turn to lean on the island countertop, smiling as you catch Aran's eye. “How is Malachy, and your mother?”

Aran's shoulders twitch up slightly, “Fine,” he says. He's not sharp or rude, but just very blunt.

“And Adam?” You press on in trying to dispel the awkwardness.

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, fine.”

He doesn't make it easy for you, even after all this time, but you remind yourself he's a teenager, too. You smile, false though it is. “That's good.” You turn your eyes to Cillian, who is crouched down at the cupboard beside the oven, digging around for the jug still. With his back to you, he doesn't know your eyes are silently begging him for help. “Don't stand on ceremony, Aran.” You say gently as you look back at him, “You're as at home here as you are with your mother, you know that.” You smile. “Help yourself to anything, go and put the TV on if you want, just make yourself at home. I think your Dad left his iPod on the speaker in there, too.” You nod towards the living room space.

He looks back at you blankly. He's a quieter lad, you know, but he's bordering on rude and standoffish at this point. “Dad?” He calls, and Cillian rises to his feet, brandishing the lost jug, and raises his eyebrows towards his son. “Can we do this next week, or during the week or something?” He asks and you look at Cillian instantly.

Cillian's face is a mix of confusion and disappointment. “What's wrong?” He asks, walking towards the island. He sets the jug down and keeps his eyes on his son.

Aran shrugs his shoulders, “Please, Dad?”

“Did I say something wrong, Aran?” You ask nervously. “If I did, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.” You feel Cillian's arm around your back and his hand cups against your hip.

“Dad?” Aran's eyes are fixed on his father and you get the sense you've put your foot in it, even though you don't know how.

“If you want to go, I'll take you home, but I'd like to know why first.” Cillian says. His voice is calm - a more gentle form of parenting had been his style from the start - but it is still authoritative enough to command respect. “Sure you were grand in the car.” He pointed out. “Just explain what's going on, will ya?”

“Mum told me she talked to you this week.” Aran says slowly, and Cillian nods his head.

“She did, yeah.” He says.

Aran looks at you for a moment, then back at his father. “She said you two were looking at houses back over in London.”

You frown instantly, “Aran, we're not looking at houses in London.”

“I told your mother I've to go over to England for a while, for work. I think I said it would have been handy to have our old place, maybe, but I didn't say we were going to be moving over there or anything.” Cillian refutes the claim immediately. “Son, why didn't you mention this before? Have you been stewing over this all weekend?”

Aran shrugs his shoulders, “She said you were looking at places there. And she said that youse are talking about having kids.”

“Aran, why didn't you ring me? Or send a fucking text? Why sit going over all this and worrying your head over it?” Cillian removes his arm from around your back. He leans his arms on the island countertop and looks at his son with a gentleness in his entire expression. “We're not moving to London, I couldn't do that. I'll be there for work, but this is home. I wouldn't move a plane ride away from you two, you should know that.” He turns his head and glances at you, then looks back at Aran. “And Y/N and I talked a bit about things, yeah, but there's been no plans made to have more kids. I have you and Malachy, and Y/N knows how important our relationship is to me.”

You appreciate the diplomatic way he words his replies, and you smile softly when Aran looks at you, and you notice how much more comfortable he looks having been given his Dad's explanation. “So you're not pregnant?” Aran asks you, eyebrows wrinkled between his nose.

You laugh as you shake your head, “I am not pregnant.” You reassure him.

Cillian stands straight again and holds his hands out at his sides, “So are you staying, or what?” Aran nods his head. “Good,” you watch as he smiles brightly at his son and part of you wonders why he wouldn't want that same feeling again with a child with you. You remind yourself that children aren't everything, but does that mean you're doomed to be on the outside of something that clearly means a lot to him as a father?

It is almost seven pm when Cillian returns from dropping Aran back at Yvonne's house. He comes through the door with less gusto than he had earlier on and you know he's feeling the distance between himself and his kids. From the sofa, you call out to him as he rustles around by the front door. “Cill?”

“Hmm?” He hums back.

“You okay?” You ask.

He appears around the wall, hands in his pockets and face a little firm. “Yeah,” he nods.

“Aran get off okay?” You ask, swinging your legs down from your lounged position. You sit up, and open your arms out to welcome him in for a cuddle. He walks slowly towards you and drops onto the sofa dramatically, instantly resting against your shoulder. You wrap your arm around him and place your cheek on the top of his head.

“Yeah, flew in. Adam was there, Malachy was back but, um, he didn't come out.” Cillian says quietly and you feel your heart drop a little.

“Oh, love, I'm sorry.” You say softly, and you move your fingers up and down his arm lightly. “They're teenagers, they're supposed to be avoiding their parents and locking themselves in their rooms.” You say, “Go and call him - Malachy - and just talk on the phone. Just touch base with him. Especially if he's got the same worries in his head as Aran had.”

Cillian scoffs. “Why would she say we were looking at moving to London?” He tuts and sighs loudly. “I didn't say anything like that. It just feels out of character for her to even lie like that, but there's no way that Aran would be in that mood if she hadn't, nor would he make it up.”

“She probably just misinterpreted what you said to her.” You rationalise his fears like he so often does for you. “It's easy to mix up conversations at times.”

“I want to…” Cillian trails off and you frown.

“You want to what?” You press, encouraging him to speak up.

He shakes his head, “Ah, nothing.” He sighs and extracts himself from your arms. “Drink?” He offers as he gets to his feet.

“No, thanks,” you smile softly as he stands at the edge of the sofa, looking at you. You can see he feels lost, sad, and you know it's something he has to work through, but you hate it. “Unless you want to open a bottle of wine, early birthday celebrations?” You suggest, raising your eyebrows playfully, hoping he takes your lightness not a disregard for his feelings but as a way of being sweet.

“You've work tomorrow,” he reminds you, but there's a smile tugging at the left side of his mouth, pushing in a dimple on his cheek.

“It's just one bottle!” You laugh, “Between the two of us. Go on!” You coax and then, pushing on your best imitation of his softened Cork accent you add, “Sure it'll be fun!”

He scoffs, but it's a genuine smile that takes over his face afterwards. He rolls his eyes and sighs, the smile still there, and when he nods his head you know you've at least lightened his mood a little. “Red or white?” He asks as he walks towards the kitchen.

“You choose,” you say, picking up the remote control to the TV. “What are we watching?” You call back to him. “Film or series?”

“Can we not just put on some music?” He asks, his voice raised slightly as he digs in the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen for wine glasses.

“Music and wine,” you tease, “What are you proposing, Mister Murphy?” You giggle.

“Not marriage,” he mutters, but you hear it clearly.

You take a moment to work out if you're offended or not, if there's true intention behind his words or if it's another of his satirically delivered lines. You can't hear him shuffling about in the kitchen and you know that he's waiting to see how his words have landed. You let it fly, but you file it away in your mind bank, vowing to bring it up should you need to. To let him off the hook of tension you know he's poised on, you say, “I'd say no if you asked, anyway. Sloppy seconds husband? No thanks.” When he laughs, you know his intentions clearly. Flippant and silly, that's all it was. Don't take it to heart, you tell yourself. It's just your mind. You look around as he returns with two glasses of red wine in his hands. You take the one he offers you and hold it tightly to prevent it spilling as he flops onto the sofa beside you. Without a word, you hand him the remote control to the TV before you reposition yourself on the sofa, turning so that you're lounging comfortably and are able to throw your legs across Cillian's thighs. Instantly, he places his free hand out across your limbs. It's comfortable, loving, and exactly what you want. But he's quiet again and you feel the tension without even searching for it. “Go and ring Malachy,” you say, moving your legs from his lap. “Cill?” You raise your eyebrows when he doesn't move.

He sips his wine and when he draws the glass from his lips, he turns his head to look at you. “I was outside the house and he didn't come out.”

“You didn't go in,” you counter.

He sighs, “No.” He concedes.

“So go and ring him, ask about his dinner with his girlfriend and see if he got the same story as Aran. If he did, put him right.” You look at him seriously for a moment, then give him a gentle smile. You sit forwards and set your glass down onto the floor carefully, tucked in by the sofa to avoid a spillage. “I'm going to hop in the shower. Ring him, and then when you've made sure he's okay and you feel better, you can come upstairs and you can take me to bed. If you're lucky I'll let you you fuck me into my birthday.”

You watch his cheeks flush slightly, and he fights a smile but cannot hold it off. He looks at you, shaking his head, then stretches closer to you and presses his lips to yours. As he sits back, he swipes his tongue over his lips and nods his head. “G’on up and get your shower,” he says with his eyebrows raised. “I'll call this lad and then I'll come up.”

……..

It's your alarm ringing loudly that wakes you at seven am on Monday morning. The bed is empty, but isn't it always when he's close to working again? Cillian will be out running, or hunched over a mug of coffee in the kitchen. You groan as you reach over to the nightstand to silence the buzzing and singing phone, and begrudgingly you sit up on the edge of the bed. The room feels cold in contrast to the duvet and you groan again as you search for your slippers and hoodie to pull on over your pyjamas. Yawning, you make your way down the stairs with heavy, sleepy steps, and the sound of the TV playing gets louder as you reach the bottom. So, he's home at least. You shuffle your feet across the floor as you approach the kitchen island and smile softly. With his back to you, even if he was paying attention, Cillian's full attention is on whatever it is he's doing at the cooker and you know that when you speak you'll make him jump. But he does turn, clearly he's heard your movement, and his hair is mussed and his face is sleepy but he smiles at you sweetly and holds out his hands, offering a plate of buttered toast and a mug of coffee.

“Morning,” he says, huskily, and you realise he's only been awake a few minutes before you. “Happy Birthday.”

You smile back softly, “Thank you,” and walk towards him. He sets your breakfast items onto the island and instead wraps his arms around you. He kisses you softly, first on the lips, then on the forehead as he hugs you close. You keep your head against his chest, and while he initially goes to draw his arms away, he tightens them around you again when he realises you're searching out affection.

“You want your present?” He asks, his chin resting on the top of your head until you move a little, looking up at him.

You smile, like an excited child, “What is it?” You allow him to extract himself from your warm cuddle and watch as he disappears into the laundry room at the back of the kitchen. You reach for the coffee and gratefully sip at it, watching the doorway for his return. When he reappears, he's carrying an envelope, a small wrapped gift, and a pale blue helium balloon. You smile at the cute offering - he's such a romantic. He places everything in front of you on the island, and the balloon immediately floats slowly up towards the light. You set your coffee back down and reach first for the envelope, you feel awkward as he stands staring at you, his own mug of coffee beside him. Drawing the card out from inside of the red envelope, your eyes scan over the front. It's clearly been made to order, with a photograph of yourself and Cillian on a trip in Rome the previous year. You feel your stomach twisting at the nostalgia of the trip, and you open the card to read the inside.

“Mo ghrá, you've been everything I never thought would come in these last few years and I cannot thank nor celebrate you enough for everything you've brought to my life. I love you, you deserve the happiest of birthdays. - Cill. X”

“Oh, you big softy,” you look at him, sticking out your bottom lip. “Thank you.” You lean forwards and gently kiss him, your right hand cupping his cheek. He looks a little embarrassed, but smiles at you lovingly. “I love that photo,” you say, looking back at the front of the card. “That was such a lovely week.”

“It was,” he nods his head. “Open your present there.” He points at the small, wrapped box before you.

For a moment your mind runs over the possibility of it being an engagement ring - it's the right size, the right shape, but surely not? You smile at him as you reach out for it, and you carefully remove the wrapping paper from around it. Discarding the wrapping, your heartbeat quickens in your chest. It's definitely jewellery of some kind. You look up at him, frowning slightly, then slowly lift the lid on the small box. Inside, sitting on a navy velvet base, is a silver ring with a crystal blue stone set in the centre. Your eyes dart back up to him again. “Is…this…,” you stammer.

“It's not an engagement ring,” he says, softly and gently, “But it is…I don't know, a promise ring? I had it bought before Friday, but especially since the weekend I want you to know I love you, and whatever happens or doesn't happen, or whatever plans we have or change, I need you to know that I love you and I don't want to find any reason, ever, for us to change who we are, what we have, what we've been building these years.” He sounds nervous, timid, and like he might be scared he's saying the wrong thing but every word lands with love and gentle reassurance against your heart.

“Oh, love…” you feel the heat begin to rise in your eyes as tears start to pool in your lower lids. You set the box down and open your arms, moving towards him. “Thank you,” you whisper against the crook of his neck as you hold one another tightly. “It's beautiful, you're beautiful. Thank you.” for a moment, the back-burning resentment of the weekend falls away almost entirely. Almost.

[tootiredtobenice]

me if being obsessed with older men was illegal

[actually-mentally-ill]

[mypoisonedvine]

A tommy idea: he hires us to help take care of his kids when they’re home but he soon realizes that he likes us more and more seeing how maternal we are with them. He’s constantly checking us out, when we bend over he’s always accidentally bedons us, good girl girl and praising us for doing well taking care of them, and the idea of us carrying his next baby also turns him on so much

oh my goddddd!! this turned out pretty short cause I wrote it in my car on break from work 😭 but I just had to do this concept pronto

warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, slightly dubious consent (tommy is a little... pushy), age gap (not specified, everybody's grown), breeding kink

You were bouncing the little one on your hip when he came in; you gestured to the older child, already asleep, as a reminder to Thomas to speak softly so she wouldn't wake.

He approached you slowly, waving a quick hello to the baby but otherwise just watching him slowly shut his eyes as he drifted off.

"The children adore you," he noticed, smiling proudly, "as do I."

"I adore them," you returned, "and I'm... thankful you hired me to care for them."

You felt his gaze on you as you gently laid the baby in his crib, feeling a little strange about him standing so close behind you while you were bent over. "Don't you ever want any of your own?" he asked, lowering his voice a bit. "You'd make a lovely mother..."

He trailed off for a moment, his fingers brushing over your back through your dress, making your breath catch.

"...and such a sweet little wife, too," he added with a slow breath. You shuddered, turning to face him and completely intending to tell him how inappropriate this was, but the look in his eyes shut you up in a second.

"M-Mr. Shelby..." you mumbled, blinking up at him as he stepped closer again, nearly pressing his body to yours-- you tried to step back but only found yourself pressed against the crib.

"Well?" he pressed. "Don't you want children?"

"M-maybe someday," you answered nervously, struggling to keep your attention on the conversation when he rubbed your arm through your sleeve. "But I think I'm still too young--"

He knit his brows together, shaking his head. "Oh, no-- you're the perfect age for it, darling..."

You swallowed thickly, his fingers running gently over your jaw and lifting your chin so he could get a better look at your nervous, confused expression.

"You should have one," he decided suddenly, "and I should have another."

You opened your mouth to disagree, but nothing really came out... instead, he just pulled you into a kiss: slow, gentle, patient. You knew Tommy could be a volatile man, even violent, but you'd never known he could be so tender.

Of course, it didn't last long. He was anything but slow or gentle or patient when he had you in his bedroom, pressed up against the wall as he drove into you mercilessly, holding your legs open as he grunted with each rough thrust into your heat. "Good girl," he growled as your head fell back with a sigh of pleasure, "look how well you take it. I knew you needed a baby in you, darling-- as soon as I saw you, I knew. This body of yours just begging to be bred..."

You whined and bit your lip, but a hard thrust that went just a bit too deep made you yelp loudly-- and his hand quickly snapped over your mouth, muffling your noises as he panted in your ear.

"Shh, not so loud," he warned, "you don't want to wake the baby..."

[drcranessweetestdoe]

heyyyyy

could you do a Tommy shelby fic?

in which he fucks Ada's bestfriend when she is 18!

hii, love this idea xx I have been writing this all day, time to celebrate with a jam sandwich:) xx

Finally mine

warning: agegap!, Thomas lusts after her while she is underage, grooming, virginity loss, virginity kink, innocence kink, unprotected sex, Tommy being a softie, possessiveness

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Innocent!Reader

summary: ever since he came back from the war, Tommy found himself wanting his sister’s lovely and sweet best friend, too bad he has to wait until she is 18

(Y/N) was the sweetest girl in the whole of Birmingham, always polite and kind. Thomas was smitten with her from day one. She and Ada met in school, she felt sorry that Ada was always alone, because everyone told their kids to stay away from the filthy Shelby’s. So, one day she gathered the courage and sat beside the sad girl, who was very excited to finally have a friend.

It was the age of war, so everyone was always on the edge of a meltdown. And money wasn’t exactly falling from the sky. While (Y/N)’s family weren’t considered aristocrats by any chance, she never had to worry about not getting fed, or not having a warm bed to sleep in. That was something that the Shelby’s couldn’t exactly relate to, there was little money and quite a few mouths to feed. Aunt Polly tried her best to feed the hungry children at the table, but she was failing more and succeeding less. Her sister-in-law’s three big boys were away at war, but they were always talked about.

One day, the thirteen year old (Y/N) plopped down beside her best friend Ada with a full lunch box in hand. She always had lunch packed with her, but Ada never did. For a long time, she just assumed that the malnourished girl was not hungry in school. While she was munching on her apple, she heard the growl of a hungry belly and Ada turned her head down in shame. While a girl is naive at 13, (Y/N) immediately knew that her friend was hungry, and that she probably didn’t get as much food at home as she did. When Ada looked back at her, she reacted with a wide smile to the outstretched hand towards her, holding a big red apple.

For the rest of the break, they just sat under their tree, silently chewing on their apples, with a smile on both faces.

That is how Ada knew that (Y/N) was going to be her lifelong best friend. She opened up to her when they were sharing a cigarette on the edge of the forest.

“We had more money before the war, if Tommy was here he would make sure that we have food.” Ada explained.

(Y/N) just blinked at her friend. “Who’s Tommy?”

———-

Three years later, the girls were now sixteen and the war was finally over. Because (Y/N) herself didn’t have any brothers, or sisters, she didn’t know how many families waited for this day to come.

It was a pretty summer day, and she made her way to the Shelby household, where she was always welcomed by Aunt Polly. Except, when she walked into the house, there was only one man sitting at the table. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she blushed heavily, he was very handsome. For a moment she believed that she walked into the wrong house, but the photographs on the walls proved otherwise. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the wall blankly, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear her come in.

Thomas just wanted a moment to himself in his childhood house before going back to the Garrison, he was not the same man anymore. Suddenly, he saw a figure in the corner of his eye. A second later, the two pairs of eyes met. His previously sad eyes lit up at the sight of her, but he tried to conceal it. She was so beautiful… Slender and weakish frame, something that made him eager to protect her. Her long and soft looking hair. And that face, oh god, that pretty face.

“H-Hi… I’m (Y/N).” She walked closer to him and stuck her hand out for him, she recognized him from the pictures, he was one of Ada’s brothers.

He heard about her, Aunt Pol always told him what was happening on Watery Lane in the letters she sent to Tommy. She had mentioned Ada’s lovely friend, multiple times. She told him that the girl was pretty, very kind, and that she went with her to church on Sundays when no one else wanted to, just so Polly didn’t have to go alone.

Tommy smiled at her, and she felt herself get lost in those bright blue gems of eyes. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it to his lips and planted a little kiss on it. Her hand was soft and warm, it was a while since he felt the touch of a gentle female. He smiled when she blushed more at his kiss. “Thomas Shelby.”

—----

From that day on, Miss (Y/L/N) was under the protection of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas always had one of his men following her and Ada to school, and then back home. It killed him knowing that he couldn’t touch her, make her his, not yet anyway. That would have been immoral and awful, and he knew that aunt Pol would have broken his hand in two and cut off his cock. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent too many night fucking his fist to the thought of her. Everyone in the Shelby clan could see how soft he was towards her, always making sure that she stays out of the bad things, and whenever she came over and he was working, his eyes basically formed into hearts and followed her everywhere. The family loved her, she enjoyed baking and she always made sure that at least once a week she turned up to the office with home-baked treats. Those kinds of sweet treats calmed everyone down, business was blooming after all.

Ever since Tommy came back from the war, he only let himself be pleasured by whores, the one girl he wanted was the one he had to wait for. He always hired prostitutes that resembled her even the slightest bit. He imagined that he was burying himself inside her wet and warm walls, he overheard her and Ada and he was very well aware that she was untouched, a sweet little virgin. In Small Heath, the girls started sleeping around in their teens, but she, at 17, didn’t care about the boys her age. She wanted a certain gangster, who was nearing his thirties.

He didn’t even claim her yet, but wherever she walked, everyone knew she was Tommy Shelby’s girl. He sent her gifts, and always a handwritten note. Her heart never failed to warm up when she saw the little T.S on the bottom of the cards. Flowers, chocolates, exotic spices that she could put in her sweet treats, jewellery, dresses, everything a 17 year old girl loves. She was spoiled by him. When she wore one of the dresses that he got for her, she always sent him a shy smile and a little nod.

—-----

Tomorrow was going to be the day when she would finally become 18 years old, a young lady. She felt so antsy getting to bed, knowing that she would wake up as an adult. She also deeply hoped that Tommy would do something, after 2 years of gifts, protection and lustful gazes from distance. It was safe to say that her standards were very much heightened.

When she woke up, she noticed a big box on the chair of her vanity, tied up in one of those big ribbons. Her mother must have brought it up for her, as she always did when her daughter’s name was on the box, written by the familiar handwriting.

She was smiling widely when she opened the box up, it had a beautiful silky dress and a gold locket necklace. She marvelled at the divine fabric, but quickly blushed when she looked into the box again. There was a set of white lingerie and a note.

Tonight, I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7pm, be ready.

~T.S

She melted at that, and she felt her lower tummy warm up. This evening, she will finally be claimed.

——-

By the time 7pm rolled around, she did everything she could to make herself look pretty for him. She took a long hot bath, made sure she smelled good everywhere. She washed her hair and tied up half of it with a bow. She put lotion all over herself, sprayed herself with perfume and put the lovely dress on. Sitting in her vanity, she put on some makeup. She felt beautiful.

She got her light coat on, along with kitten heels and she was waiting for his car to come. When it did, she sat in the backseat and greeted the driver.

She got driven to Arrow house, which she only heard about before. It was so huge, and overwhelming, but very nice.

A maid took her coat and escorted her to the dining roomom. Just like the rest of the house, it was quite big, both the room itself and the table. It was decorated elegantly, the candlelight flooded the room. Just as she stepped in, Thomas walked in the room on the other door. He looked so handsome as always, with his muscular frame and his tailored suit.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest, she looked like an angel, and she was standing in his house, wearing his gift. The maid left, now there were only two of them in the room, he walked up to her. With a gentle hand on her waist, he pulled her closer so he could plant a kiss on her cheek and whisper in her ear. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He got even closer, her head was spinning with him so close, his masculine scent sent her hormones into overdrive. “I hope the dress isn’t the only gift of mine on you.”

He felt his dick twitch when she looked up at him like that, a gentle glint in her eyes. She shaked her head, too lost in his eyes to answer with words. To shake her out of her trance, he guided her to her seat, with his hand still on her slender waist.

He sat next to her, the maids kept on serving the finest of foods. Thomas also brought out a bottle of red wine. Both of them were surprised how easy it was for them to talk. They talked and ate, and Tommy even found himself laughing. He also found out how innocent she was, she wasn’t stupid, just inexperienced, and he was more than happy to give her experience. She also had a big heart, and a gentle soul, she was everything he needed.

While everyone in Small Heath tried to warn her about Thomas Shelby, she never understood why. He was just trying to protect his family and give them a chance at a better life, he was also an absolute softie for her. She could see that he had a lot of love to give, he enjoyed being the leader and defeating other gang leaders, but he must have been craving someone who could take care of him for once, she knew that she wanted to be that person.

When they finished dessert, he pulled her chair closer to his and cradled one of her blushing cheek into his palm.

“Are you aware of my intentions towards you?” He asked in a serious tone, she knew that he wasn’t fooling around. Now or never. She nodded as much as she could with the gentle hold on her face, but he wasn’t having it. “Answer me with words, I want to see if you really want this.” She felt dizzy by hearing his dominating tone.

“Yes, I know your intentions with me.” She replied shyly.

“What are they?” His fingers started to move her hair out of her face, caressing her in the process.

“Y-You want to make me yours.” She spoke lowly, it was hard to speak when he was looking at her as if he was seconds away from ravaging her.

“Yes, and do you want that, (Y/N)? Do you want me to make you mine?” He was even closer now, he whispered seductively in her ear, his full lips were nearly touching the shell of her ear. “Just say the word, sweetheart, and I will give you everything you crave. Please, let me give you the world.” Thomas Shelby barely used the word ‘please’, but he was nearly begging for her. She almost giggled, as if she really needed much convincing.

“I want it, I want it so bad, Tommy…” She was getting impatient, and he saw it on her.

“Shh, sweetheart… Don’t let your pretty head worry, I’m going to take care of you so nicely.” He stood up and stuck his hand out for her to take. “Come.”

He walked with her to his bedroom, she was walking behind him so she couldn’t see the wicked grin on his lips. When they stepped in the door, he just kept on walking, which caused her to walk backwards, until her knees hit the bed and she had fallen down on it.

He didn’t waste a second and crawled on top of her, his lips slowly finding hers. Their kiss started out slow, he guided her lips with his own. After a few minutes, noticing that she was starting to become more and more confident, he slipped his tongue into her open mouth. His hand wandered to her back, where the zipper was, his head pulled away so he could ask for silent permission. Once he got it, he helped her sit up and he removed the dress. Sitting back on his heels, he admired the sight in front of him, her young body was just begging to be ruined. She was wearing the lace, she looked exactly like an angel. His lips glued themselves to her neck and they sucked and bit, her noises were proof that she was enjoying his touch. He made sure to really mark her up, she wasn’t going to leave his mansion for a while, he needed his time with his new prize. She bit down on her lips to hide her moans, something he growled at.

“Don’t you dare. I want to hear you, don’t hold back, sweetheart.”

He went down to her breasts, he also reached under her arched back and unclasped her bra. She tried to cover herself, but he was having none of it. He slowly unpeeled her arms from her chest and kissed all around her breasts. “How beautiful! Such a nice pair of tits you have, the best I’ve seen.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth and she mewled loudly, she didn’t expect to feel so aroused while getting her nipples sucked at. He made sure that he gave both of her tits the same treatment before going lower.

Before he could do more, he stood up to remove his shirt and pants, her presence was making him hotter by the minute. He hooked his fingers into her panties and his cock nearly tore his underwear when he saw how the crotch was stuck to her entrance. She was already so ready for him. He yanked harder and they finally parted, he brought her panties up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Mhm, so sweet… But, I think I need to feel this from the source.” Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her spread legs, her mind was making her doubt herself. What if she looked ugly down there? What if it smelled or tasted b—

“OH— Tommy!” She moaned loudly when his tongue licked a long stripe up her slit. He just chuckled into her pussy darkly, then he moved on to her pleasure. His mouth was sucking her throbbing clit, his fingers slowly circled her entrance, teasing her.

“Fuck… Your cunt tastes divine, and it’s only for my mouth to taste.” It wasn’t even a question. She was unable to form a coherent sentence, she could only moan and thrash on his tongue. He took one finger and he slowly eased it into her, she was so wet that it slipped right into her, he didn’t hesitate to add another one. “You’re going so good, I cannot wait to feel this tight virgin pussy on my cock.” He curled his fingers and rubbed them right into her spongy spot, her fingers grabbed his hair and tried to push his face more into her heat. He felt her clenching more and more, so he sped up his movements and grinned proudly when she came undone with a whiny moan and a desperate call of his name.

He kissed his way back up to her heaving chest and looked up at her flushed face. He talked her through it, until her breathing evened out again. He slowly slipped his underwear off, his back straightened out for her to see his big cock. It was veiny and thick and it made her nervous. He kept her legs spread, while he kneeled between them, one of his hand smoothing her face and the other one gripped himself at his base. “Want to give a little touch? Don’t be scared, I’m going to make this very pleasurable for you, my sweet girl.” He hissed when her fingertips made contact with his dripping tip, he was so pent up and her soft touch nearly made him blow his load all over her juicy tits, but he had to stay patient. “Are you ready? Ready to become mine?”

“Yes, Tommy, please, I want to feel you. I-I waited for you.” This caused him to grin and give her a deep kiss.

“I know you did, little one.” He positioned himself at her entrance and he slowly began pushing in, he felt a bit of resistance, but with a sharp thrust, he managed to break through it. He wrapped her up in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into her ear soothingly. “I know, I know. It will feel better in a minute, your pussy just has to adjust to my cock. Relax.” It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but it still did, the girls in her class made it sound worse, or maybe their boyfriends didn’t take the time to prep them properly. That made her so proud, her Tommy made sure she was ready. She tried her best to relax her muscles and she felt the pain lessen. She planted a shy kiss on Tommy’s neck at which he chuckled at. “Good girl. You’re mine now, only mine.” He slowly began moving in and out of her.

Her walls gripped on him like a vice, he didn’t need any whores anymore, he had her now. His hands lifted her hips up a bit, so his cock was hitting her spot at every thrust. He went more and more faster, his fingers also began rubbing on her swollen clitoris.

“AH— Tommy, I’m going to—do that thing again.” His innocent little girl, so good for him.

“Good… I can feel you squeeze me, come on, sweet girl, come for me. Come on my cock. Let me fill you up. Let me make you mine.” With a shout of his name and a cry, she came around him. When he felt her walls pulsing around him, he let go too. His warm cum painted her walls, and it was such a delicious sensation. He stayed inside her for a few minutes, both of them trying to catch their breaths.

When he pulled out, he sat back so he could watch his cum leak out of her spent hole. He looked down proudly at his softening cock, which had some of her blood on it. Shit, he really filled her up with his load, there was so much of it. And the whiteness of him and the dark crimson of her virginity made such a lovely contrast together.

He took a rag from his bedside table and cleaned her up, making sure that he was gentle with her, the girl just got fucked and she was sensitive both physically and mentally, he had to be gentle.

After he made sure they were both clean, he once again brought her into his embrace. He smiled at her lovingly, which caused her to do the same. Her hair was all puffy from his touch, but he loved it.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He cradled her cheek, and caressed her under eye area with his fingertip.

“I’m good, I feel a bit sore, but it’s okay.” She nuzzled into his neck and left little kisses. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He smiled in a way he didn’t for a long time, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. He wanted to give the world to the girl in his arms, and he felt the primal urge to protect her and keep her away from all the bad. “Me too. I’m happy to know that you’re finally mine.”

taglist: @your-nanas-house

[hllywdwhre]

Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”