#tommy shelby/reader
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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year ago
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Making Arrangements Part One
Masterlist | Part Two
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.
Length: 6.1K
Notes: It's a two-shot! Part two will have explicit content.
No beta, we die like Billy Kimber
Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; Reader gets drunk
Summary: If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 
But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 
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“D’you think you could bother to give them a smile?” 
On the face of it, it seemed a fair question, but all things considered, it made you want to punch Thomas Michael Shelby squarely in the jaw. You didn’t, of course—that conduct would be unbecoming of a bride in front of her new family. 
You’d been getting knowing looks from the women all night—pursed lips from Ada and Polly, and a wide smile from Esme. It was almost wolf-like, the way she watched you—welcome to the pack. 
“I could,” You conceded, nodding, casting your gaze around the party. The revels had only just begun. It was early enough that nearly everyone was coherent, on their feet, but you knew that in just a couple of hours, the party would likely turn to shit. These people would be drunk, coked out of their minds, dancing, and flirting
Probably fucking. You had no doubt that you would be expected to do your wifely chore that evening. 
Maybe that was why a permanent frown had been fixed on your lips from the time you’d put on your wedding dress, as you’d walked down the aisle, all the way through the fucking I Dos. 
“You’re still frowning.” 
You didn’t bother to hide your eye roll before you turned your head fully to look at him. He didn’t give you the same courtesy. He watched the revelers with the same bored speculation as you’d given them just moments ago. 
“And this is what your fucking grin looks like?” You snipped. He raised his cigarette to his lips, drawing in a deep drag that sank his cheeks. He managed to cast you a knowing glance, his brow raising. 
“It’s the most that you’ll get of me tonight.” 
“And of me. Don’t ask me to stoop to something that you won’t bother with. I’m your wife now. At least pretend to respect me in front of them,” You insisted, nodding toward the others. It took him a moment, but Tommy nodded. 
“And behind closed doors?” He asked. 
“That’ll be none of their concern. And you’ll have to take it up with me later.” 
“I intend to.” 
--  
You sat on the edge of the bed, and watched. All Tommy did was light up another damn cigarette. You weren’t sure if you married a man or a chimney. 
You could hardly believe that you had married the man at all. 
Your family had never been a big player in Birmingham, or Camden. You’d kept your head down, stayed out of the way, operated cleanly. When the Shelbys had come to you with a proposition, it hadn’t been for your minor operations in the UK—it had been for your connections in America. They were looking to expand, offered you a good deal, and a union between the two households. 
When it had first been brought to your attention, you’d thought that it was a pretty good idea. But when it came down the line that Thomas Shelby had specified an interest in marrying you, well—the thought had become less and less appealing. If you’d cared less for your family, or known less about the mounting tensions that they were facing overseas, you would’ve laughed the idea off. If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 
But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. 
You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 
Tommy had spoken to you only once before your wedding day. The meeting had been brief, and he’d done all of the talking. He’d promised to protect you, sworn to never raise a hand against you. 
“You know as well as I do,” He’d insisted, “That this is the best way forward for our families. And I know,” He’d leaned in a touch, “That you want what’s best for your people.” He’d reached into his pocket and drawn out a small velvet box, setting it on the table before he stood, straightening his waistcoat. 
“You have until tomorrow night. I need an answer.” 
You’d sent him your reply—a single slip of paper sent with your brother Lewis that simply read: Yes 
“...It was a nice party,” You offered now, unable to stand the silence any longer. 
“You didn’t seem to particularly enjoy it.” 
“No one left with a bullet wound. In my family, we consider that a successful bash.” 
Tommy’s lips quirked just a touch as he nodded. 
“Our brothers seemed to get on,” You hedged, desperate to draw this out. You worried that once you stopped speaking, he may
Want to consummate the marriage. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You’d heard rumors, whispers that Tommy was a good lover, but you weren’t sure that you were ready to find that out yourself. 
“They did,” Tommy nodded again. “Lewis and John already seem thick as thieves.” 
“Yes.” 
The two of you fell into quiet again, and it was a harrowing few moments before Tommy pushed himself off of the dresser. Your hands dropped instinctively to the bed, grasping at the sheets—but Tommy turned and went for the door. 
“G’night, then.” 
Your brow furrowed as you glanced around. Goodnight? But—
“Where will you sleep?” 
Tommy stopped in the open doorway, nodding behind himself. “I’ve a room down the hall.” He turned away, adding, “Shout if you need something.” 
You hesitated a few moments longer before you sprung up, darting forward and shoving the door closed before locking it. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes and letting your forehead rest against the dark, cool wood grain. 
He didn’t take. 
You had gone into the room expecting shoving hands and a quick coupling, but Tommy kept his distance. You weren’t sure if you were more relieved or insulted. You turned away from the door, leaning back against it and peering around your dim new living quarters. 
Relieved, you decided. 
--  
Insulted, you decided. 
Tommy had the gall to lean in and peck your cheek when he’d come down to breakfast that morning. 
It took everything in you not to shove him away.
Polly made no comment on how wane you looked the next morning, nor did Ada or Esme cast you knowing grins or teases. They all watched Tommy, and the little slip of a shadow that you’d met last night—a birch-pale, dark-haired woman named Lizzie. 
You didn’t think that the news had made it back to your family—the fact that your husband had just spent his first night as a newly-married man with a prostitute-turned-secretary while you slept alone in an unfamiliar room wearing the lacy nightie that you’d bought specifically for your honeymoon. 
Esme and Ada excused themselves as quickly as they could, but Polly lingered, and offered,
“He’s a prickly sort, and these things take time. Men have their needs and urges.”
“...Right,” You pronounced crisply as you stirred some sugar into your tea, “And I’m a novice in a nunnery.” 
--  
“You should’a seen the girls at the party last night,” Lewis groaned.
For all of your irritation during the last few days, you’d been happy, truly happy to see your family enjoying themselves. Carving out your space in the literary scene of London and running a few underground print shops wasn’t exactly a serene existence. You constantly had to move operations, vet workers, stop-up leaks in production cycles and deal with snitches. Your entire family was dedicated to the business, but your brother was the most determined of the lot. Lewis had become the man of the house at a young age, after your father had been hauled into prison for treason. 
So to see him let loose a little—well, more than a little, truth be told—was a heartening sight. 
“I don’t think I would’ve quite enjoyed them the way you did,” You raised a brow, smile widening as he ducked his head bashfully, “But I’m glad you had a good time.” 
“And you?”
The pointed question came from just behind you. You didn’t dare turn to look at your Aunt Pearl. She knew you far too well. You could hide your feelings and concerns well enough from Lew—you had plenty of practice. But Pearl had been a motherly figure, a guiding hand in what would’ve been an otherwise rudderless life. She learned to read you like an open book when you were young, and you had been powerless to change the way that she understood you, even as the seasons of your life had passed. 
You turned your head back toward her just a touch, biting the inside of your cheek as you waited for her to go on. It was a few moments of quiet before she urged: “Lewis, go get some air.” 
You drew a deep breath in through your nose, fighting to steady yourself, and giving Lewis an encouraging smile and nod before he stood, pushing away from the kitchen table and heading outside. You saw him tipping his head back toward you, trying to catch on the line of questions that Pearl was about to level—as if neither of you knew any better to wait until he was fully out of earshot. 
“Who’s Lizzie?” She finally asked. You weren’t sure how to answer at first. You scrubbed your hand over the back of your neck, making sure that you heard the door shutting behind Lewis. 
“It’s just
Growing pains,” You finally offered, gaze set stalwartly on the table. “Every couple has them.” 
“Where was he last night?” 
“How should I know?” “He’s your husband. You’re supposed to know.” 
You didn’t have a chance to argue before she strode closer, her hand resting on your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, or draw away. You were used to her hand on your shoulder, her nails digging into your skin. She didn’t dig her nails in just now—she merely rested and waited. 
“Growing pains,” You finally offered again as you looked straight ahead. It was as if Polly had her hand on your other shoulder, and was staring you down in warning. 
“Pains?” Pearl repeated. “Physical?” 
You don’t want to answer, but—
“Emotional,” You blurted. It was another moment of quiet before she hummed. You stopped yourself from turning to look at Pearl—to catch the no doubt heavy judgment in her dark eyes, and the twist of displeasure to her small mouth. 
“I see.” 
“It’s early,” You insisted. She hummed again, stepping around you to walk toward the window. It didn’t take much to glance over, to see where Lewis was playfully fighting with John and Finn. 
“Do they know?” Pearl asked. 
“About where he was?” You shook your head. “I’m sure his brothers do.” 
“And?” 
“And what?” You scoffed. “It’s no business of theirs. Our marriage is between myself and Thomas.” 
Pearl turned to face you with a crisp smoothness, her eyes narrowed as she cocked a hip.
“And that’s all you have to say about it?” She asked. You pursed your lips. You had plenty to say about it, but it would land on deaf ears. Any of Pearl’s meddling would spell trouble, and you weren’t about to sic the dogs less than twenty-four hours into wedded bliss. 
“Yes,” You nodded firmly. Pearl’s eyes narrowed further before she hummed, turning back toward the window. 
“...This is good for us, Pearl,” You reminded her. “The Shelby’s are strong, they know what they’re doing. I just have to hold up my end.” 
“And what end is that?” 
“That of a doting wife.” 
“And mother?” 
Doubtful. Thomas couldn’t even be bothered to touch you as it was. But it was early, you reminded yourself. Things could still change. Things would change. They had to. 
“Perhaps,” You leveled evenly. “Someday. Time will tell.” 
“Time,” Peal repeated, nodding as she rounded you. “Well, if we’re going on time, so far, you’re not managing it particularly well.” 
You slid down in your seat a little as Pearl finally left the dining room. Your interest in the day’s paper had been sapped; your tea had gone cold. You didn’t want anything to do with Thomas Shelby, or with his family, not anymore. If you were going to make it through at least one year of marriage, you needed to nip this in the bud. 
-- 
“I need to talk to you.” 
Tommy didn’t so much as glance at you, his gaze trained steadily on a horse. You waited a moment, shifting from foot to foot, but perhaps you shouldn’t have waited. You’d spent nearly two weeks waiting. Maybe he hadn't heard you? You stepped a little closer and raised a hand to touch him. You couldn’t bring yourself to make contact, and your hand curled in on itself just before it could brush his waistcoat. 
“Thomas?” You pressed. 
“I’m busy.” 
“When can we speak, then?” 
“Tonight.” 
Certain that he meant it earnestly, you turned away and left.
But the evening came and went, and you found yourself sitting alone, stewing in front of your uneaten dinner and eyeing his empty plate. The house was too quiet, and your thoughts were far too loud. You needed to clear your buzzing head—you wanted a drink, and some fun. 
-- 
“You can’t let them push you around.”
The warning was spoken knowingly. You knew that she was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Esme’s eye. Her gaze was so heavy, so all-knowing—nothing like the bright, uninterested gaze that Thomas often offered you. But Esme was having none of it. She dipped her head into your field of vision and clapped her hand over yours where it rested on the table beside your drink. You shook her hand away lightly, reaching for your drink instead. Maybe coming to the office to nip out of the bottle Polly kept in her desk had been a bad idea. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just sit in that house and rot in your anger. 
“No one is pushing me anywhere,” You grumbled.
Esme let out a soft, cruel chuckle. 
“I know what it is,” She insisted, “To come into this family and feel on the outside, feel that you don’t have a voice. Becomin’ a Shelby doesn’t erase who you were before.” She reached out again, taking up your drink and drawing in a deep pull before you could argue. As annoyed as you were, you knew that she was right. You nodded slowly, topping the glass up when she set it back down. 
“...Should I not bother replacing Polly’s alcohol, then?” 
Esme’s smile grew as yours did, and the two descended into quiet giggles. 
-- 
“We need to talk.” 
It was steely when it left you this time. Despite that, Thomas still paid you no mind. In fact, he went out of his way to take his time drawing on his cigarette before fishing into his waistcoat. He pointedly drew out his pocket watch, flipping it open and eyeing the time. The tick tick tick of the second hand passed for several long moments before he flipped it shut again, lifting his gaze to the hustle and bustle of the office around him. 
“Later,” He offered. 
Later, always later. Weeks of later, of hearing Lizzie’s footsteps and the creaking across the floor as she left the house before you were up and about for the morning. Weeks of sitting alone in that empty house, putting on a brave face for Pearl and Lewis. Weeks of anger and shame eating through your gut. 
“Now,” You spat.
He turned his head toward you, brows ticking up. You could feel the pace of the others in the shop around you slow just a bit, and speeding up again as Thomas shot them a glance.
“Alright,” He murmured, resting his hand on your lower back. You let him steer you toward his office, resolute in your irritation. He opened the door for you, waving you inside and shutting the door behind the two of you. 
“What is so urgent that you pulled me away from my work?” 
“Your work of watching other people count your money?” You quipped in irritation. 
“...What is it that you want to discuss.” 
“You need to keep your whoring private.” 
Thomas’s brows jumped with intrigue, his chin tipping down toward you.
“Explain.” 
“I understand that we went into this with our eyes open and a mutual understanding that the actions that we were taking were for the good of our families, but to the rest of the world, we are husband and wife. I will not ask you to stop your carrying on, as I can't imagine that you’d abide by it if I did, but keep it private. I will not step out on you publicly, and I expect to be given that same respect.” 
Thomas blinked before he straightened, pushing away from the door and stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the desk. He muttered something that you couldn’t hear, and you frowned. 
“Pardon me?” 
“Publicly,” He repeated firmly. “You said that you wouldn’t step out on me publicly.” 
“I did,” You nodded. 
“Do I get to know the lucky man’s name?”
Your face went hot with indignation. Was he trying to embarrass you? Whether he was or not, it was working. You folded your arms across your chest. 
“You’re missing my point.” 
“I take your point. You want me to treat you as my partner, and as my wife, you have that right.” 
“And will you?” 
“You can trust me to be discreet.” 
“I don’t trust you to do anything.” 
Thomas’ expression closed off, his eyes narrowing a touch, and your stomach twisted with nerves. 
“And might I ask why.” 
“What have you done to earn it? In our, what, two weeks of marriage, I have hardly seen you. You’ve made no point to acquaint me with your family or your business, and you’ve spent your nights down the hall with another woman. I’m not your wife, I’m a boarder.” 
Thomas considered for a moment before he gave a short nod. 
“I understand. I will make changes.” “Thomas—” 
“I will.” 
You pursed your lips together, pushing a sigh out through your nose before you gave a small nod of concession. 
“Alright.” 
“Anything else?” 
“...No.” And, just to seal the deal, “Thank you for your time. And for listening.” 
Thomas nodded, straightening up and opening the door for you. You strode toward it, and were nearly through before he rested a hand on your shoulder. You went still, turning your head toward him just a touch. Before you could get a good look at him, Thomas leaned in, brushing a kiss to your cheek. It was the most that he’d touched you since he’d kissed you the morning after your wedding. You thought that he may be making a show of affection for the office, but Thomas turned his head, brushing his lips against your ear.
“If I ever find out that another man has touched you,” He murmured, “I’ll take off the bastard’s hands and give them to you as an anniversary present.” 
You balked, shock wracking your chest as he placed a final kiss to your temple before he gave your ass a pat, spurring you into action and sending your scurrying back into the office, and out of his reach. 
--  
“It’ll be nice for you to fix up the place and make it your own,” Polly commented. 
“She was always going to get around to it of course,” Pearl insisted. You didn’t dare look away from the row of dressers. The one that you had in your bedroom was fine, but it was a bit small. You’d ordered several new pieces of clothing on Tommy’s account—well, on your joint account. Giving the name Mrs. Shelby had incited stunned, wide eyes from the shop keeper’s assistant and prompted fawning and a healthy discount. 
Still, as much as you were trying to bring your families together, you realized belatedly that in this case, it was an awful idea. Polly and Pearl had taken every opportunity to take digs at one another, leveling backhanded compliments with smug smiles and drags of their respective cigarettes. The two of them were so painfully similar, and perhaps that was why they seemed to hate one another so much. 
“Of course,” Polly echoed placidly.
“I want this one,” You pointed to the one in front of you.
“I’ll find the assistant,” Polly offered, brushing past you. You sighed heavily, shaking your head. 
“Please pull it together,” You muttered.
“I’ve nothing to pull together,” Pearl pronounced.
“Please,” You bit out again. “I can’t make any of this work if you and the others don’t, either.” 
You heard a deep sigh, chased by the tapping of her cigarette ash beside you. 
“I will be myself.” 
“I don’t need you to be yourself, Pearl. I need you to be pleasant.” 
A little knot of tension unwound as Pearl chuckled. 
“Becoming a missus really has given you fangs.” 
“I’d rather not use them, if possible.” 
“I understand.” 
“Thank you.” 
“...Are you going to give Miss Sourpuss the same talking-to when she gets back?” 
“Lord above.” 
--  
“You look like you’ve had a marvelous time.” 
Bringing Pearl and Polly to a somewhat peaceful place had been shock enough for that evening, but this took the absolute biscuit.
You might’ve yelped in fear at the sound of his voice if you hadn’t spotted the burning cigarette in the ashtray mere seconds before he spoke. As it was, you didn’t answer right away. You plastered yourself against the backdoor, your hands curled around your key and your purse. Thomas just arched a brow, expectant and silent. He wasn’t supposed to be there. You’d been told that he had business, and you had figured that once that had concluded, he would take care of other
Matters. You'd thought you’d have the house to yourself and have a nice cuppa before going to bed. 
You finally managed to push yourself forward, away from the door, your face hot with drink and embarrassment. 
“I didn’t think you’d be in,” You admitted. 
“You didn’t think I would be spending the evening in my own house?” 
“Esme told me there was a family meeting. She said that they can run late.” 
“You were misinformed.” 
“Clearly.” 
You watched Thomas warily as he drifted closer, going tense as he stepped around behind you. You hardly dared breathe for a moment, then let it out as you felt him slide your coat from your shoulders. 
“Thank you,” You mumbled as he stepped away with it.
“Were you with Esme?” He asked, tossing your coat over the back of a chair. 
“Mhm,” You nodded, taking a few steps deeper into the kitchen. “And Ada, Polly
And Pearl.” 
“Where were you?” 
“Polly’s house.” 
“Mm.” 
You watched Tommy round the counter, taking up a clean glass and a bottle of whiskey. You nodded, stepping closer. “Please.” 
He poured a good amount before setting the glass on the table. You sat down, watching him do the same. The light in the kitchen was low, casting an orange glow about the room. You felt almost like you were being interrogated as Tommy tucked his cigarette between his lips for another drag. You took your drink up in turn, giving your hands something to do. Besides, finding your husband at home had harshly staunched your blissfully tipsy mood, and you were desperate to get it back. Tommy made no comment as you took a deep swig, and you fought away a wince at the taste and burned as you gulped it down greedily. 
“How was the meeting?” You asked.
“Fine
Would you like to know what it’s about?” 
“If you’d like to tell me.” 
You figured he would let it go there, but he gave a short nod, offering: “We’ve reached a trade agreement with your man in New York.” 
“I’m glad to hear it.” 
“Lewis can fill you in on the particulars later.” 
Your brows jumped. “Lewis was there?” 
“The business concerned him, I made sure he was in attendance.” 
“I’m sure he appreciated it.” 
He hummed, leaning back in his seat. You took another deep swig from your glass, but you couldn’t bring yourself to draw your gaze away from Tommy’s. He seemed so relaxed—though, maybe it was absurd to find a man relaxed simply because he had removed his suit jacket. Still, he looked irritatingly dashing in his waistcoat. 
“Tell me about yourself,” He ordered as you lowered your glass to the table. You cleared your throat, shaking your swimming head to try and clear that, too.
“Pardon me?” 
“Well,” Tommy plucked up the bottle again, topping your glass up. “As you have reminded me, you are my wife. I ought to know something about you.” 
“...Are you drunk?”
His lips quirked with a small smile. “No. But if you keep on like that, you will be.”
“I’ll be fine.” 
“If you say so.” 
“I do say so, thank you.”
“I have to be drunk to want to learn about my wife?”
My wife. It made you feel oddly warm as he said it
Though perhaps that was the whiskey. 
“We didn’t exactly have the most conventional courtship, or wedding,” You reminded him.  
“All the more reason for me to learn about you now.” 
“I don’t know where to start.” 
“How about with the things you like.” 
“I will tell you,” You nod slowly, “But only if you tell me about yourself in turn.” 
Thomas seemed to purse his lips before he sat up in his seat. He held his hand out, the gold of his wedding ring glinting in the light. 
“You have a deal.” 
You hesitated for a few moments, certain that he was putting you on. But when he didn’t draw it back, you raised your hand in turn, grasping his and giving it a shake. 
--  
The first hint of light made you wince and turn away. Your mouth was obscenely dry; your head was pounding harshly. You groaned, rolling away from the window. Oh
You did not feel good. Your head felt like it was going to burst; your stomach rolled like you were taking a rocky transatlantic crossing. Oh, god
Were you going to be sick?
You peeked an eye open, then squeezed it shut again. Oh, no. You weren’t sure which was worse, having your eyes open or keeping them closed. You hesitantly opened both eyes, then groaned more loudly, tucking your head beneath your pillow. No. Having your eyes open was definitely worse. 
You heard a harsh thudding, as if a giant has managed to get into your room. What on earth—
The pillow lifted away, and you tipped your head up into the cool brush of fingertips against your forehead. 
“How’s our Sleeping Beauty?” 
You weren’t sure what flustered you more: the teasing tone of Tommy’s voice, or the way the word beauty sounded coming out of his mouth. 
“Right as rain,” You mumbled. “Or I will be, once you stop yelling.”
His chuckle brushed your forehead. 
“Pearl is on her way to look in on you. Apparently Esme is doing just as well as you are this morning.” 
“I don’t wish this on my worst enemy.” 
“Rest up.” 
“I wasn't planning on doing anything else.” 
“Good girl.” 
Before you could ask, or argue, or throw a hand out to slap him on the shoulder, he brushed a kiss to your forehead, then drew away fully. You listened to the retreat of his footsteps, a pause, the scraping of the curtains being drawn closed, and the gentle scruuuuuuh—thump of him shutting your bedroom door behind himself. You only dared look around after a few minutes, when you were certain he was gone. You rolled onto your back, sighing and trying to ignore the thud-thud-thud behind your eyes. 
You feel like hell, but last night was sort of
Nice. 
Drinking with the girls and breaking down some of the barriers before your families had been a success, but coming home to Thomas was
New. It wasn’t unpleasant, as you would’ve previously thought. You scrubbed your hand gently across your eyes, trying to recall your conversation. You had it in bits and pieces—his love of horses, his devotion to his family, his worries for Arthur and John. You wondered if he told you those things because you’d been spifflicated that he didn’t think you’d remember a damn thing. But you remembered. 
You remembered the almost kind way that he’d smiled at you a couple of times. You remembered the way he’d taken your hand and led you up the stairs, steadying you when you’d wobbled and taken uneasy steps. You remembered him turning his back as you’d gotten undressed, waiting for you to get into bed before bidding you a goodnight. 
A knocking on the door drew you up from your recollection, and you winced at the sound. 
“Yes?” You croaked. The door opened, and to your surprise, two heads poked through. 
“You’re in a state,” Polly chuckled before Pearl opened your door the rest of the way. The two entered your room, each eyeing the furnishings that were soon to be replaced. You pushed yourself up, wincing as your head spun. 
“Had a night, did you?” Pearl settled onto the bed beside you. 
“Could you lower your voice, please,” You grumbled. 
“Did you go right to bed when you came home?” 
“I meant to.” 
“But you didn’t?” Polly chimed in. 
“No.” You winced as you raised your voice just a touch. “I
I had a conversation with my husband.” 
Polly and Pearl cast one another curious glances, so unlike the cutting looks they’d leveled at one another just a couple of days ago. 
“It was fine,” You added. “It was
” Nice? Enlightening? Something you would be happy to have again? “Cordial.” 
“Was he drinking?” Polly plied.
“We both were.” 
Polly and Pearl each hissed, chased by sympathetic tuts.
“You should’ve quit while you were ahead,” Pearl admonished. 
“I certainly know that now.” 
Polly took another look at you before she patted Pearl’s shoulder, offering, “I’ll put the kettle on.” 
“You’re a saint,” Pearl smiled. You sagged back against the headboard, scrubbing a hand over your brow as Polly disappeared.
“Since when are the two of you so friendly?” You asked. Pearl shrugged. 
“We’ve come to an understanding
As you have with your husband, apparently.” 
“I think it may be a very different kind of understanding.” 
“D’you mind if I smoke?” 
“...I don’t mean to sound harsh, but if you smoke, Pearl, I will be sick.”
“Better out than in.” 
“Please, no.” 
-- 
It wasn’t every night—it wasn’t even most nights, but you began to spend time with Thomas. It started with him coming home just as you finished dinner, and progressed to Thomas making it home just in time for dinner. Conversation wasn’t always freely flowing, and a few of those first dinners were a little quiet, and awkward. But as you spent more and more time together, those silences became more and more rare, and when conversation wilted, the quiet was comfortable. 
You still slept apart, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard Lizzie creeping out of the house as you awoke. Maybe she’d managed to work out which floorboards didn’t creak; maybe Thomas had stopped having her in the house
Or having her at all. 
You were certain that the second possibility was the most likely. It still wasn’t the ideal situation, but you appreciated it all the same. Not only had Thomas kept his promise and been discreet, but he was taking the pains to distance you from his romantic liaisons. It was
Almost sweet, all things considered. 
--  
“...What are you reading?” 
You jolted at the question, sucking in a gasp and dropping the manuscript that had been in your hand. Thomas’ brows rose as he walked deeper into the sitting room. 
“You scared me,” You grumbled. “How long have you been here?” 
“A few minutes. I called out twice when I came in.” 
“Oh,” You frowned. “I’m sorry, I must not have heard you.” 
“Clearly.” 
He walked deeper into the room, taking up the fallen manuscript and sitting on the green velvet settee beside you. You let your gaze linger, sweeping over him. His jacket had always been removed, though his waistcoat was still intact. His cool eyes swept over the page, brow furrowing a touch as he took in the content. His head began to turn toward you, and you hurriedly stood, rounding to the bar cart. 
“Would you like a drink?” You asked. 
“Sure.” 
You plucked up the bottle of whiskey, uncapping it and pouring a good amount. You rounded back to him, holding the glass out. He crossed his legs, resting the manuscript against it before he took the drink with one hand, patting the seat beside him with the other. You lowered yourself back down hesitantly, acutely aware of the way your thighs brushed. 
“What is this?” He asked, nodding toward the pages. 
“A book that was sent to us.” 
“Topside?” 
You smiled a little. Topside was how your family had always referred to the legitimate side of your publishing operations. You were certain that you and the others had said it around Tommy and his family before, but you were surprised he remembered. 
“Yes,” You nodded. 
“D’you like it?” 
“Ah
” You considered before you blew softly between your lips. “I’ve read worse.” 
“I’m not sure if that’s an indictment or praise.” 
You chuckled. “It’s got a good frame, but the writing is unpolished. Could be good, with a little bit of work.” 
“Will you work on it yourself?” 
“I may. Need something to do with my time.” It felt like the wrong thing to say as soon as you said it—but Thomas simply hummed, turning the page as he lifted his drink to his lips. 
“Redecorating hasn’t been enough of a challenge?” He asked after a moment. 
“Well it was, but I’m nearly through. The only room in the house that I haven’t touched is yours.”
“And why is that?” His eyes slid toward you, and the sudden shock of blue made your stomach flip. You shrugged a little, shaking your head. 
“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” 
Thomas nodded before he turned back to the pages. The two of you fell into silence, and you leaned in a little, reading over his shoulder.  
“...Dinner’ll be ready soon,” You told him after a few moments. He nodded, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth, away from you. 
“What’re we having?” 
“Roast chicken.” 
“Vegetables?” 
“Potatoes and carrots.” 
“Gravy?” 
“Of course. I’m not an animal.” 
Thomas huffed a soft laugh through his nose. He turned his head toward you a little, his lips brushing your temple. The touch made your eyes slide closed, your stomach fluttering at the sensation. You were so caught up that you nearly missed what he said next:
“We’re going to London tomorrow.” 
You frowned, glancing up toward him. “Why?” 
“I’ve a meeting.” 
“A meeting that involves me?” 
“I want you with me.” He turned his head a little more, nuzzling lightly against your hair. “Besides, it’ll be good for you to get out of the house for a bit.” 
“I get out enough.” 
“I think you could do with a bit more.” 
You hummed thoughtfully before you leaned away, patting his thigh lightly. 
“I’ll go check on the bird.” 
You only managed to get up and take a single step before Thomas caught hold of your hand. You glanced back as he raised it to his lips, brushing a tender kiss to your knuckles. The action was so small, yet so intimate that it made your breath catch in your throat. He gave your hand a squeeze before letting go of it, letting his arm drift up to rest on the settee. You turned away, hurrying toward the kitchen. 
Once you were alone, you braced your hands on the counter, drawing in a deep breath and pushing it out again. Your skin seemed to tingle where he kissed it, and you glanced down, as if you could see some discernible change. You shook your head, shaking your hand before you turned to the oven. 
Dinner, get dinner together. You could worry about Thomas’ touch and the trip to London later. 
Next Part
Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce
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amostimprobabledream · 7 months ago
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Sick and Tired of False Devotion (Tommy Shelby x Reader)
In which Tommy is cheating with you. Takes place shortly after Season 3.
Tommy Shelby wakes to the sound of blackbirds singing.
The noise, no matter the time or place he was currently in, always took him back to days of his boyhood. Yawning stretches of summer mornings, him and his siblings taking the long path to school across rolling fields of green grass swaying in the breeze, accompanied by the warbling of the birds. The future stretched out before him then, full of promise. That boy was dead now, lost in the cold mud in France, but he still remembers the birdsong. Next to him there issues a new noise – a soft, feminine moan. He observes you beside him as you open your eyes, the sweet peaceful expression of your sleeping face morphing into something else as you ascend into full consciousness. The fog of sleep in your eyes recedes and in its place is that sparkle, the glimmer of naughtiness and spirit that sucks him in like a whirlpool.
A man could get lost in such eyes.
“Morning,” you greet Tommy in a sleepy hum, a far cry from the noises you were making last night. “Mornin’.” Tommy answers, leaning down to kiss you, the mutual whiff of cigarettes on your collective breaths be damned. You tilt your head up to receive him, like a flower pointing towards the sun. Your lips are soft, still kiss-swollen from before and your hand snakes around to the back of his head, cupping the shorn base of his skull and pulling him in to deepen the kiss. You tug on his dark hair, always so demanding, and he could easily succumb to it – the allure of your body, naked under the slippery silk sheets, the sweetness of your lips and the warmth of the bed. But he can’t. His wife will be expecting him.
“I can’t stay.” Tommy tells you, pulling back. Some women might have protested a little harder at being left behind like this, these clandestine meetings that always end with Tommy departing your brightly lit bedroom to return to grey Birmingham skies and an equally chilly manor house. But you don’t beg him to stay, you never have. You accept his affections when he offers them, but you always watch him with droll amusement as he dresses to leave. You’re doing it right now, lighting a cigarette and lounging back in bed as Tommy tugs on his trousers and feeds the end of his belt through the buckle. “What’s she got you doing this time?” you ask, mockingly. “Time to show you off at some ghastly gala or other? A charity auction? Dinner with the in-laws?” You snicker, smoke spewing from your nose. Tommy doesn’t dignify that with a response, though he makes no effort to deny it either, nor does he scold you for your tone. You seem to regard the fact that Tommy Shelby is sneaking around behind his wife’s back as highly amusing. You talk about her in the third person, with sarcastic inflection. Like she’s a scheming pantomime villainess. It entertains you to imagine Tommy’s wife, rattling around the mansion he bought like the lady of the manor, ordering about the staff who secretly despise her and wearing imported silks and rearranging paintings Tommy says he bought but are actually stolen, blissfully unaware her husband has been fucking around behind her back for months or that he hasn’t halted his gang activities whatsoever. She has no idea you laugh at her, at thinking she’s bent Tommy Shelby to her will, ignorant that his growing antipathy for his marriage has driven him right into your arms. Tommy trusts you, you see. He sometimes tells you little bits of what he’s doing – never the full picture, of course, but enough that you can puzzle together most of it yourself. You never pry, never probe him with breathy questions, but you listen to him and offer your objective opinions, you’re totally impartial to most of the issues he’s grappling with, so he knows you’re not being tainted by any preconceived notions. You’ll tell him if you think something is a bad idea, but you’ve never asked him to be anything other than what he is. You don’t see Tommy Shelby as a project to fix or something to be tamed.
You know a wild thing like him would never be happy bridled.
Your tactic acceptance of him, your eyes lacking judgement and your own peculiar penchants make you an enigma to him. Tommy can’t resist a challenge, a puzzle for his intense intelligence to figure out. He comes back again and again for you – each new facet of you fascinates him.
Grace has been hinting lately at wanting another child, remarking that Charles might be lonely, and wouldn’t it be nice if he had a brother to play with? Yet the thought of Grace swanning around with a stollen belly, smirking and rubbing it like a genie’s lamp, leaves him cold. It hasn’t escaped his notice that as Charles ages, the boy barely resembles him at all. When he plays with Arthur, John and Ada’s children, his lighter hair stands out like a sore thumb against a gaggle of dark-haired children. He knows Grace disapproves of her precious son mixing with his sibling’s children – that he’ll pick up bad habits.
When Tommy is unable to slip away from home to see you, you shrug and go off to one of your mysterious parties or other social engagements he is not privy to. He pays his boys quite a lot of money to keep track of the whereabouts of his mistress, but even then, you prove to be frustratingly elusive when you want to be, always drifting just a bit out of his reach, like fog at his fingertips. He doesn’t know how you knew the men he pays to watch you are his, but you do.
It's aggravating, but in a way, pleasing, like putting pressure on a bruise to see how deep the wound goes. “Got something for you.” He tells you in a rasp. You look up from where you’re fussing with your stockings, a faux  diamond on the garter glinting in the sunlight. “Oh?” you ask in an effort to sound detached, but he can see your eyes light up with excitement. Tommy’s gifts are often both pretty and very expensive. Tommy crosses the room and produces a box that was hidden inside the pocket of his coat. When he brings it over to you, you’re suddenly sitting up and alert, taking it from him and stripping it of the velvet ribbon holding it shut. “Oh.” You say again, with a wildly different inflection this time, recognising the logo stamped on the top. When you pop the lid off the box, your breath catches in your throat. Something is nestled in a bed of black velvet.
It's a dress, in a shade of green that you can tell at a glance will look great with your skin tone. Slowly you lift it up, the fabric whispering as it moves, and hold it up to the light, marvelling as the material seems to shimmer with colour.
“Tommy, I love it.” You whisper reverently.
He grunts, but you can tell he’s pleased, and he pops a cigarette between his lips before lighting it, the flame at the end of his match lighting up his eyes, making them look like ice, like glaciers lit up by the dawn. You wonder if he picked this dress himself, imagined you in it, imagined taking it off you later. Lizzie could have gone in his stead, but she still would have paid for it with Tommy’s money, and he would have still had final approval before handing it to you. That’s enough for you. “I ‘ave a meeting with the Russian ambassador.” He says, nonchalantly, as if such a thing is just an ordinary Tuesday for Tommy Shelby. “Need someone with me to keep things looking above board and respectable. Someone who can keep their mouth shut.” You don’t have to ask why he wants you there and not Grace. His wife has proven in the past that she isn’t to be trusted with a secret. Even her husband’s. Perhaps especially her husband’s. “I’ll be there.” You say, forgetting to ask him when this meeting is, so enamoured are you with the thought of getting to wear clothes like this and stand at Tommy’s side, facing down an enemy together. True, you’d be wearing silk instead of a razor in your cap, but both these things can prove a useful tool, depending on how you use it. Honestly, you’d probably agree to visit a pigpen if it meant you got to wear clothes like this, and knowing that a night of subterfuge and champagne will probably lead to a night of some incredible post-socialising fucking?
Well, you could do worse.
“Pour me a drink before you go?” you ask sweetly, voice still rough with sleep, pointing across the room at a bottle of whisky and some glasses, still sticky with residue. It’s a little early to be knocking back the booze, but you don’t have anywhere urgent to be until this afternoon.
Tommy raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t refuse, and you watch him saunter over to the table, pouring one for you and one for himself, his white shirt still unbuttoned and hanging off him, light making the fabric practically translucent. He looks equally delicious partially dressed as he does naked, and you lick your lips as you greedily drink in the sight. He approaches, a wry smirk on his face as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and you smirk up at him in return. “Does Polly know about this little meeting?” you ask him, accepting your glass, fingertips leaving smudges on the design. “She’s the one who helped set it up.” Tommy replies, speaking around his cigarette. “Pol understands how important this is.” “Well, then.” You reply. “If Polly’s on board, then I’ll drink to that.” Polly’s no idiot – if she’s willing to deal with Russians, either she knows that what they’re offering makes it worth it, or that pissing them off would lead to consequences the family would do better to avoid. If you can smooth the way to a successful negotiation by looking pretty and keeping your eyes and ears open, then you’ll do it. You clink glasses with him and swallow back the whisky. The familiar burn down your throat is strangely pleasant, and more importantly quenches your dry mouth a little. Tommy sets his glass down on the side table and smacks his lips. “I’ll send a car ‘round to pick you up tomorrow at nine.” He says and wags a finger at you in a way that’s supposed to be stern, but you can detect a little playfulness there too. “Don’t keep me waiting.” “Mm, but you keep me waiting all the time,” you counter, unable to resist teasing him a little bit, lounging back in the bed so the covers slip a tantalising inch or so lower, exposing more of your bare skin. “Don’t you?” He looks down at you with that impassive face that makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you – besides his mistress, obviously. What do you represent to him? You’re not married so he doesn’t have to worry about a jealous husband complicating matters, but he also knows you’re not the type of women who will be dangled from his string indefinitely. Yet if he just wanted a fuck, he could pick up any woman willing to give Tommy Shelby company for a night. Perhaps he feels like he doesn’t have any expectations in your house. He isn’t putting on a mask for the benefit of his men or trying to juggle the very separate factions of his family – the Shelby’s on one side and his wife and son on the other. With you, he can let go of all his worries and just luxuriate in being around you for a little while. He leans down, fingers gripping your jaw in a firm hold that sets off butterflies in your stomach, and he kisses you again. This time it’s Tommy who deepens the kiss, Tommy who slips his tongue into your mouth, his hand sliding down to cup your breasts and marvel in the weight and feel of them, so soft in his rough hands. “Behave yourself,” Tommy says in a low murmur in your ear, and you giggle as his breath tickles your skin. “And you’ll get a reward once the job’s done. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” “I would,” you agree, unable to hide the excited tremor in your voice. A reward can mean many things and you know he’s said that so your imagination will take over and get you all worked up with anticipation before he’s had to lift a finger. He’s a crafty bastard.
“Good girl,” he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, even as he maintains an impressive poker face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” “In the dress?” you tease, as if you’d wear anything else. “In the dress.” He replies, with a roll of his eyes. “Mm. Maybe I should wear my favourite stockings too,” you say, rolling onto your back. “And those pretty shoes from Paris you sent me. That was you, wasn’t it? In that box without a note?” You like to remind him that he isn’t the only man who wants to bed you, and you know he knows. He runs a hand over his jaw and clever as he may be, it doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s thinking – risk being late home and ruin whatever neatly concocted story he has ready to excuse it to give you a good seeing-to? Or play it safe and wait until tomorrow? Unfortunately for you, he knows you’re just as impatient for his hands on you as he is, and he’s a man capable of great control when he wants. So, he just jams his hat on his head, pulling the brim down low. “Tomorrow,” he repeats, his eyes fixed on yours, pinning you in place. “Wait for me until then.” He leaves shortly after, knowing if he does not, he’ll get sucked into more bantering with you. You have a knack for making him lose track of time. You watch him leave and smile to yourself – despite his instructions, you’re not sure if you can wait that long.
And you’ve never been one for playing by the rules.
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scorpiussage · 2 years ago
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Tommy Shelby + “That’s the last one.”
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: none, swearing
@runnning-outof-time
It’s been probably one of the longest days ever. First you slept through your alarm, then you’d broken your heel walking to the bus stop. When you’d finally made it to work, one of your new coworkers had fucked up big time and you had to spend the whole day cleaning up her mess.
Suffice it to say, you were exhausted. You planned to spoil yourself tonight as a reward. You were going to get a more expensive bottle of wine than normal, a giant sandwich from the deli, and of course, a packet of Oreos. In fact, you’d been dreaming about those Oreos all damn day and you knew it would be the perfect treat to end a miserable day.
So there you are, in the super market wine and sandwich already acquired, and on the hunt for those Oreos. Too bad some insanely hot ass has just grabbed the last package from the shelf. Your jaw drops and you start rushing forward to stop him.
“Wait!” You call out, the man turning to face you with a cocked eyebrow, “That’s the last one!”
He turns back to the shelf, sees that it is indeed the last package of Oreos, turns back to you and with the most infuriating smirk you’ve ever seen, sets it in his hand basket.
Oh hell no, you have had way too long of a day to have it end like this. You are fully prepared to fist fight for those fucking cookies.
“I will literally buy them from you,” You tell him past gritted teeth.
His smirk widens and he fingers the package in his basket, “I don’t know; I really want these cookies.”
You let out a dismayed noise. You could go to another shop for the Oreos but goddamnit it’s the principal of the matter!
Then the man leans against the shelf, his posture all self confidence and sex appeal, “How about this, you give me your number and I’ll give you the cookies?”
You’d give this man your virginity at this point.
“Yeah, okay,” You say while eyeing him suspiciously. Surely there’s a catch, but you pull a pen out of your purse anyways and grab his hand. His hands are large and warm and you have to actively redirect your thoughts to keep your head straight. You write your number out on the top of his hand and he looks down at you with hooded eyes that could make a nun wet.
Once you’re done, he reaches into his basket, picks up the cookies, and deposits them into yours.
Then he leans down and you think he’s going to kiss you for a second, but he redirects to whisper into your ear, “I wasn’t going to buy them anyways.”
He leaves you standing there dumbstruck as he saunters away, already typing your number into his phone.
You get a text later that night, “Go out with me - Oreo Negotiator”.


Check out open slots for bingo here!
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itshelia · 1 year ago
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Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.
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stupidnpoetic · 9 months ago
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me if being obsessed with older men was illegal
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nemesis-writer · 3 months ago
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POV- Writing for ____x reader fic
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slut4thebroken · 5 months ago
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Baby Fever
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Tommy Shelby x wife!reader
Summary | Free use wife.
Warnings | Smut, breeding kink, free use lol, in public, exhibitionism, pregnancy (very few details cause
 c’mon lol
 I’m the one who wrote it💀), light humiliation.
Words | 1.5 k
Notes | Yeah this gif still makes me feral
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
Kinktober | day 2: free use + breeding kink
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Tommy didn’t expect much from you as a wife. There were already staff who cooked and cleaned and you didn’t have any children yet. The one thing he did expect from you though, was being ready and willing to take his cock at any time of the day. 
Sometimes he’d be more gentle about it, coaxing you away from whatever task or conversation you were involved in to somewhere more private where he’d ravish you until you could only think about him and his cock. Other times, he’d be more desperate. 
If you happened to bring him lunch on a particularly stressful work day, he’d drag you in his office and bend you over the desk, fucking away all of his stress, if at least for a few minutes. 
Sometimes at the race track he’d pull you away to a more secluded— but still very public— area and cover your mouth as he plowed into you, rough and desperate, borderline animalistic. If the sound of your muffled moans didn’t give you away, the loud slapping of skin definitely did, but he didn’t care. If he wanted you, nothing was stopping him from taking you. 
A few times you even woke up to him lazily rutting into you, fucking you deep, but keeping the pace slow. He’d moan quietly, kissing and biting your neck, even sucking on the sensitive skin to leave marks. 
If he was ever short on time, he’d force you to your knees and fuck your face, making you gag and choke on his cock until tears streamed down your cheeks. Sometimes he’d blow his load down your throat. But if you weren’t in public or in too much of a hurry for anything, he’d paint your pretty face with his come, marking you as his. 
He knew you were embarrassed everytime you came back after he dragged you away. Every single time, without fail, you always looked like you were just fucked stupid. But that only encouraged him. He liked showing people that you belonged to him— that his wife was more than happy to satisfy him, even in public. 
It was also common for him to pull over and make you ride his cock in the car, smiling at all the people who drove past. If he couldn’t pull over, he’d grab your hair and force you down on his cock. Even if he arrived at the destination, he wouldn’t stop until you drained his balls and swallowed every last drop. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day or if it was pitch black out— it didn’t even matter if the window was open or not. He’d fuck your face and throw his head back as the pleasure consumed him until he finally fell over the edge. Sometimes, his sounds would attract attention, and he loved the look on people’s faces when you lifted yourself up, smiling and wiping the lower half of your face with the back of your hand. 
This didn’t happen often, but if he were ever in the middle of fucking you, too consumed by the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock, and someone knocked on the door, he’d tell them to come in. It was usually someone you didn’t even know— one time it was Arthur
 that was a particularly humiliating experience for you— but he wouldn’t stop. He’d keep you bent over his desk or on his lap and continue fucking you as you tried to not make any sounds. He always thought it was amusing when you tried to be quiet. 
One time, he walked in on you holding Ada’s baby, smiling and cooing at him, making him giggle relentlessly. As soon as Tommy got you alone, his cock was inside you and he rambled on about fucking a baby into you, breeding you nice and deep until he knocked you up. His words were almost incoherent with arousal as he described this fantasy of your belly full with his kid, your tits swollen with milk, and the glow that you’d have from all of it. He rambled on about raising them together, how good you’d look as the mother of his kids, how he wanted to fuck baby after baby into you
 breed you until he fucking ran out of come. 
That sparked a conversation between the two of you. While the original plan was to wait a few years, you both agreed to shorten that time frame. So less than two years later, you were off of birth control and he was breeding you every chance he had. Honestly you were getting a little worn out, but you never complained. No matter how tiring it could be, you still absolutely loved it. 
It became even more of a frequent occurrence for you to be walking around with either come soaked panties or come running down your thighs. He also took a liking to cock warming. In bed, on his desk chair, in the car— anywhere he could— he’d fuck you and fill you with his come, then keep you plugged up, wanting to make sure it really had a chance to take. 
At home, he’d put you in the mating press position, then stuff you full of his come. Only instead of letting you relax, he'd keep your hips tilted up so none of it could leak out and make you come again with his mouth as a reward for staying in that position. 
The first time he fucked you after finding out you were pregnant
 he was practically feral. The fact that there was a baby inside you— that it was his baby, made him all but lose control. He ravaged you with an intensity he’s only had a few times, rambling on about how he planned to fuck you like this for a while since he would eventually have to be gentler— if he could even fuck you at all. The problem was that his promise didn’t just apply to when he fucked you in the privacy of your own home, but it was just a problem for you. Tommy loved that you couldn’t keep quiet. 
Months down the line, rough, hard fucking turned into gentle love making. He’d kiss you tenderly as his hips rocked into you, keeping the pace almost tortuously slow. He tended to kiss over your stomach whenever he could and caress it with gentle hands. Both of you were surprised and disappointed by the fact that your breasts were far too tender for any touch to feel good. So he kept his hands and mouth elsewhere. 
The love making usually took place in bed. But every once in a while, he’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your small frame, placing his hands on your belly as he kissed your neck until he finally got too impatient and lifted your dress to slip his cock inside. 
Around eight months, and even for weeks after the birth, he showed no sign of needing you like that. He never made you feel pressured either, even when he’d hold you at night. You were grateful though because your body definitely wasn’t ready for that yet. 
It was a little after two months postpartum that you were becoming a bit too needy though. One day, after watching him play with and hold the baby, you finally snapped. The second you were alone you practically jumped his bones, kissing him almost animalistically and pulling on his hair until he moaned into your mouth and finally grabbed your hips. 
“Love,” He started, but cut off when you unzipped your dress and let it fall to the floor, pooling around your feet.
“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to lose my mind.” You warned breathily, working on ripping his clothes off. 
“Slow down, darling. You have to be careful.” He said gently, making you more frustrated.
“Thomas Shelby, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me, I’ll go find someone who will.” You growled, giving him one last warning. He raised his brows, shocked and amused by your words. “I carried your child for nine months. The least you could do is make me come on your cock until I forget my own name.” 
“You’re that needy, eh?” He smirked, making you scowl. “Calm down, Mrs. Shelby, I’ll give it to you
” you still get butterflies when he calls you that, “but you know I can’t resist teasing you.” 
“You’ve teased me for months. Either fuck the shit out of me or I’ll get it from someone else.” You said, voice low and almost threatening, but you knew it only made Tommy more amused. 
“How have I teased you for months?” He asked innocently. 
“Christ, Tommy— just fuck me already. You have to do what I say because I just birthed a whole baby for you.” 
“I guess you're right.” He said with a sly smirk. “Until you forget your own name?” You nodded eagerly and he walked you backwards until your legs hit the bed. Once you were laying down, he crawled over you and kissed you deeply, making you moan against his lips and bring your hands up to his hair. “As you wish, darling.” 
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mydear-corinthian · 6 months ago
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phone call
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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
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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.
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peaky1wh0re · 10 months ago
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Smash.
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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago
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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
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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..."
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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year ago
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Making Arrangements Part Two
Part One | Masterlist
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.
Length: 7.9K
Notes: Hey look it's part two! This is the end of the fic!
No beta, we die like Billy Kimber
Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; mention of Reader's mother passing away, though it doesn't say how; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; possessive Tommy; explicit sexual content - vaginal sex, unsafe sex
Summary: Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.
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“You look impressed.” You noted it to him with pride. Thomas’ gaze swept around the hotel room as he pressed a tip into the bellboy’s hand. The young man dipped a courteous nod before hurrying out, shutting the suite door behind himself.
“You chose well,” Tommy conceded. You shrugged nonchalantly, turning away to hide your proud smile. When Tommy had asked you to make arrangements for your trip, you’d been certain it was a test. It seemed like you’d passed, at least. The interior was opulent, with rich shades of red and tawny across the furnishings.
“There’s a balcony,” You nodded him toward it as you headed for the doors. You opened them, stepping out and peering over the hotel’s small courtyard. You heard Thomas come up behind you, felt his hand rest on your lower back as he set the other on the banister.
“It’ll be nice to be able to get some air without all of the street noise,” You added. Why were you so chatty now? It was hardly the first time you’d been alone with him.
Maybe it was the fact that Tommy had trusted you with this in the first place. Maybe it was how close he’d stuck to you on the car ride down, urging you to sit closer so that he could hear you properly over the rumbling of the road beneath his tires. Maybe it was the fact that, unless something else prevailed, you were going to share a bed with your husband for the first time that evening.
You glanced back toward Tommy and found him eyeing the courtyard below. You cleared your throat, looking over your shoulder and nodding inside.
“Do you like it?”
He turned to you, a small, patient smile on his lips.
“Yes,” He reassured, his thumb sweeping gently over your lower back. “I like it.”
You nodded, relieved, and turned back to the courtroom.
“What time is your meeting?”
“Six o’clock.”
“What time do you want me ready to go?”
“Five thirty should work well enough.”
You reached out, fishing into Tommy’s jacket for his timepiece. You ignored his heavy, curious look as you eyed the face. You had a couple of hours between now and then.
“Alright,” You shrugged, tucking the watch back where it belonged before you turned, heading into the room. It was another moment before Tommy followed you back inside.
“What’ll you wear?” He asked.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Where we’re going and who we’re meeting.” You crouched by your suitcase, casting Thomas a sidelong glance. “You still haven’t told me.”
He hummed, drifting closer and leaning against the bed frame.
“We're meeting Jay Miller.”
You frowned. That name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. He waited patiently as you wracked your mind. Jay Miller. Jay Miller

Your mind flashed with a face that you used to know well—a warm smile, a lopsided grin, the flutter of dark lashes as you took him between your lips—
You turned away from Thomas, your face going hot.
“I didn’t know that you knew Jacob,” You said crisply.
“It’s a young acquaintance. Lewis made introductions.”
And you would have to thank your brother for that—perhaps with a smack upside of his head. What the devil was he thinking, introducing your husband to your former beau?
“How fortuitous.” You straightened from your suitcase, looking down at its contents. Jay Miller. Lord above. You hadn’t seen the man in years. Maybe he wouldn’t remember you? Maybe he wouldn’t dare say a thing in front of Tommy. Maybe Tommy didn’t even know—
“That one.”
Your mind quieted as Tommy stepped up beside you, pointing into the suitcase. Your brow furrowed as you followed his direction, crouching down to pluck up a purple beaded dress.
“Why this one?” You asked, turning the fabric over in your hands.
“I’ve never seen you in it.”
“You haven’t seen me in most of the things I’ve packed,” You pointed out. Tommy hummed, pressing tightly up against your back, making your stomach turn somersaults.
“Then this’ll be a good place to start,” He insisted.
“And you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“We're having dinner at the Granville Hotel."
You drew in a shaky breath as he stepped away again, reahing into his pocket for his cigarette case as he headed back toward the balcony. You'd wear your purple dress to the Granville Hotel. Fine. You looked down at the dress, smoothing the crepe satin with your fingers. You’d known that you would need to prepare yourself physically, but preparing yourself mentally was now an entirely different matter.
-- 
It was a boon that Jacob seemed as shocked to see you as you had been when Tommy had mentioned his name to you. For as long as it had been, Jacob seemed almost wholly unchanged. He stood from the restaurant table, straightening his jacket as you and Tommy grew closer.
Jacob’s dark hair was neatly coiffed; his warm, dark eyes lingered heavily on you as you approached him on Tommy’s arm. He was taller than Tommy, nearly 6’4, with broad shoulders, and biceps that bulged in such a way that they seemed to challenge the seams of his suit. 
“Mr. Shelby,” Jacob turned his attention to Thomas, shaking his hand warmly.
“Mr. Miller,” They shook hands before Tommy gestured toward you, “I believe you know my wife.”
“I do,” Jacob nodded, “But I’m ashamed to say that I have not had the pleasure for quite some time.” He took hold of your extended hand, and while you’d expected a shake, he bowed over it, brushing a kiss to your knuckles. You fought to hold your expression steady as he leaned back, murmuring, “Mrs. Shelby.”
Mrs. Shelby. It had been your truth for nearly six months now, but you heard it so rarely that it hardly seemed to fit you.
“Mr. Miller,” You answered softly. “It is nice to see you again.”
“And you.”
“Shall we sit?” Tommy asked.
“Please.” Jacob waved his hands to the seat on the other side of the table from him. Tommy pulled your chair out for you, nodding as you murmured your thanks. He leaned down, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head, and you couldn’t help but glance back with a small smile on your lips. You didn’t even care if it was for show. The outward affection that Tommy had given you in the last few weeks felt so nice. It had been so long since you’d felt anything like that, not since—Well. Not since Jacob, at least.
You let your eyes stray to the other side of the table where Jacob seemed to be perusing the wine menu. It was a relief. You weren’t sure what business the two were engaged in, and finding out right off the bat would have been a bit much for you to handle. You knew well enough now that Thomas liked to ease into his business rather than state it outright.
--
Dinner was delicious. Course upon course upon course of perfectly prepared, filling food, chased by sips of the best bottles of wine that the restaurant had to offer you. Jacob and Thomas spent the entire meal exchanging pleasantries, talking around business
Until you reached the wasteland between dessert and the bill.
“...Now,” Jay started, folding his arms on the table. “We ought to come to our reason for meeting.”
“In front of the lady?”
“She can handle it.”
Where there had been a tease in Tommy’s voice, there was a thread of annoyance in Jay’s, insistent and firm. You weren’t sure who you were more grateful for at that moment. Jay knew you in your place in your family’s structure; Tommy was still learning you, in a way. He shifted in his seat a touch beside you, curling his arm around the back of your seat.
“I know she can,” Tommy insisted. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s simply not polite.”
Polite. You were almost certain that that word had never once applied to Tommy Shelby. Jay gave Tommy a tight smile, giving a small nod.
“Well then,” He replied, tone clipped. “Let’s get to it. We have sixteen distribution centers, but we’d only be able to lend five to you and your operations.”
You glanced toward Tommy, trying to gauge his reaction to the news. He nodded slowly, tapping the ash from his cigarette into the tray on the table.
“When we last spoke,” He spoke matter-of-factly, his tone tipped with venom, “You told me that ten centers would be available.”
“Yes, well.” Jay’s gaze flitted toward you lightning-quick, then away again. “That was blue sky thinking on my part. The fact of the matter is, we have five. Take them or leave them.”
“I’ll leave them.”
Your gaze flitted over to Tommy, stunned. He’d leave the option of five, rather than pursue them and find five elsewhere?
“You’re kidding,” Jay scoffed before he nudged you beneath the table with his foot. “Talk some sense into your husband.”
You considered for a moment, taking in Tommy properly. It was stalwart—almost flat—but he quirked a brow. You took in his expression, his countenance
And you knew. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be enough for him. You shook your head a little, your gaze fixed on Tommy as you agreed:
“It’s ten or nothing, Jay,” You warned.
“Please,” Jay laughed. “You can’t have bought into his shit so quickly.”
Tommy’s expression flickered as he turned to meet Jay’s eye again, his eyes narrowing.
“You doubt my wife’s sense?” Tommy frowned, his voice daring Jay to disagree.
“Thomas,” You warned softly, but it was drowned out by Jay’s, “I’m questioning whether your wife still has a mind of her own.”
Tommy stood so quickly that it made you jolt, stunned at the sudden move. Jay followed suit, the glasses on the table rattling as his thighs hit the table on the way up. You reached out, hurriedly steadying the table as the motions drew the attention of the other diners. You looked up, gaze darting between the two of them.
“You question my wife’s intellect. That is a dangerous path to walk.”
“I knew her long before you, Shelby, and better, if I do say so.”
“Is that right.”
“Thomas,” You hissed, “Don’t.”
Your dread grew as Tommy’s gaze held steadfast and heavily on Jay’s.
“Tommy,” You reached up, catching hold of his hand and squeezing it, “Please. Not here.”
It was another long, harrowing moment before Tommy lowered himself to sit beside you again, his arm curling around the back of your chair. You watched him, your heart pounding as Jay reluctantly lowered himself to sit, casting an apologetic smile toward the maĂźtre d.
“So,” Tommy drawled, “If five is all you’ve to offer, we may as well conclude our business now.”
“I suppose we should,” Jay agreed, his gaze drifting toward you. Your eyes dropped to Tommy’s shoulder, holding steadily there, rather than look at Jay.
“I’ll take care of the check,” Jay offered.
“There’s no need,” Tommy insisted, drawing out his money clip and slapping a stack of bills on the table. “It’s on us.”
--
Your entire body was hot as you stormed into your hotel room, already reaching up to remove your earrings as you crossed the threshold.
“Was that necessary?” You spat, glancing back toward him.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
You bit your inner cheek, holding in a hysterical laugh. That was bullshit. You tossed the earrings onto the vanity, ignoring one that pinged off of the mirror and onto the floor. You reached back, struggling to tug your dress off. You huffed in irritation, simply holding your arms up. It was a moment before Tommy strolled over, drawing the dress off of your body. You turned away from you before he could get a proper look, snatching the dress, your pajamas, and robe before hurrying behind the room divider to change.
You drew off your slip and your stockings hurriedly, listening to Tommy mill around on the other side. You tugged on your pajamas and robe, tying the tie tightly before rounding the divider, your pretty purple dress balled up to shove into your suitcase.
“I did not appreciate that,” You announced primly, crouching beside the case for your toiletries. 
“Appreciate what, precisely?”
“Being used as a bargaining chip.”
You straightened, settling at the vanity and taking up your cold cream to take your makeup off.
“...That’s not why I brought you.”
“Bullshit.” You met his eye in the mirror, uncaring of the fact that you likely looked ridiculous, smearing cream all over your face. “You wanted a position from the higher ground, and bringing me, you got it.”
You sprung up, striding over to the restroom and taking up a washcloth. You twisted on the tap, running it under the water and raising it to clean away the cold cream. You looked into the mirror, swiping away the remaining smudges of kohl beneath your eyes. You drew in a steadying breath, fighting to staunch your irritation. It felt good, but it just wasn’t enough.
You could hear the twisting of a bottle top, chased by the almost melodic sound of whiskey being poured into a glass. You straightened up, pitching the used washcloth into the basin of the sink and winding into the room. You plucked the glass of whiskey out of Tommy’s hands moments before he could take a sip, stomping over to the balcony and yanking the door open. You drew in a deep gulp as you leaned against the balcony, peering into the courtyard. The small winding path around it was lit with small lanterns, swaying in the evening breeze. You heard Tommy’s footsteps approaching after a few moments, but refused to look in his direction.
“What if you’re right?” He asked after a few moments.
“Then I’d say that you’d accomplished your mission.”
“Thank you for following my lead.”
“You should’ve taken the five.”
“Excuse me?”
“Better to have five to start with and look for five,” You argued, glancing up at him. “You could’ve negotiated a lower fee with Jay and an equal fee elsewhere.”
“You think my choice is foolish.”
“I think it’s short-sighted.”
Tommy’s brows rose and fell swiftly.
“You’re certainly entitled to that opinion.”
The telephone rang on the side table just inside the bedroom, and Tommy stepped away with a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As he went back inside. You turned to watch him, leaning against the balcony and watching him. He plucked the phone up, tucking it against his ear and answering, “Yes
Ah, Jay,” His gaze darted to yours. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this evening
Mm
Mhm
I see
”
Your brows rose, stomach roiling with nerves as you listened.
“Yes
Yes, ten centers will still do just fine,” Tommy insisted. You narrowed your eyes slightly. Dickhead.
“Of course
 I understand
Thank you
Lovely doing business with you as well.”
You rested your chin on your hand as you heard Tommy lower the receiver back into the cradle. A moment later, he joined you on the balcony. You listened as he drew out a cigarette, tucked it between his lips, and lit a match. You caught the acrid scent of his cigarette just a few moments later.
“...Go on,” You finally sighed.
“‘Scuse me?”
“Gloat. Get it over with.”
“I think I’ll wait.”
--
“Tell me about him.”
Getting into bed with Thomas had been nerve-wracking. You’d been certain that he’d stay up and go out, but as you’d shut the light off and gotten under the covers, he’d joined you. There was a good amount of space between the two of you. You’d been staring at the ceiling, praying that sleep would come quickly, but you’d laid in silence until he’d asked that shocking question.
“What?” You frowned, letting your head loll to the side to look at him.
“Jacob Miller.”
You could feel him watching you in the room’s low light. You rolled onto your side to face him, tucking your hands under your head.
“I’m sure you did your research before doing business with him.”
“I did, but everything that I know is strictly professional. How did you meet him?”
You sighed softly, casting your mind back.
“It was at a party.”
“You brother’s?”
“No, he was still too young then. One of my Aunt Pearl’s friends threw it.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“How old was he?”
“Mm
Twenty I guess.”
“You liked him.”
“Not at first.”
“Why not?”
“He was just
I don’t know,” You shook your head. “He was too showy, flashy. Loud. But, he was already drunk by the time I got there. He’s far more calm when he doesn’t have a few in him.”
“Did you want to marry him?”
You considered for a moment, your thumb sweeping along the band of your wedding ring.
“I used to, I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“...It didn’t feel right.”
“And our marriage did?”
Did. The word hit you low in the belly. Did? Not does? What made Tommy think that your stance on the marriage had changed already? Was it your irritation at his tactics earlier that evening? You were certainly justified in that upset, and you wouldn’t let him talk you down from that, at least.
“...It’s different,” You insisted. “Jacob and I were simply attracted to one another. No strings. You and I married for the sakes of our families.”
“Do you regret it?”
You were quiet for a moment, taking in Tommy’s features.
“...No,” You shook your head. “We both got what we wanted. Didn’t we?”
Tommy nodded slowly, his foot gently brushing yours beneath the sheets.
“That we did.”
You nodded, relief melting over you.
“Have you ever been in love?” You hedged. It took a moment before Tommy admitted, “Yes.”
“Who was she?”
“There was a girl. Greta. We were young, and
She got very sick.”
“Only her?”
“...Another, named Grace. She worked at the Garrison.”
“Why her?”
“I thought we were cut from the same cloth.”
“...And now?”
Pain flashed across Tommy’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Now I know better.”
-- 
It was strange to wake up with someone else. You opened your eyes slowly, focusing on the rise-and-fall of your belly with the weight of Tommy’s arm atop it, the heat of his body pressed into your side. You tipped your head to look at him, taking him in properly in the early morning light. You raised your hand, gently smoothing back his sleep-mussed hair.
The night had yielded far more than you’d expected. You hadn’t expected Tommy to tell you about his first love, and you hadn’t expected him to ask about yours. You hoped that it would bring you closer, but with Tommy, you could never tell. Maybe it was leverage
But if it was, why would he have told you about Greta, or Grace? You peered up at the ceiling, noting to yourself that you ought to ask Peggy more about them when you got back to Birmingham.
You glanced toward Tommy as you felt him sigh, nuzzling your shoulder sleepily.
“...Morning,” You murmured. He hummed softly, turning his head from the window.
“I want coffee.” “I’ll order room service.”
You rolled over, reaching for the phone. You sucked in a breath as Tommy’s arms curled around your middle, his body pressing up against your back. You swallowed thickly, reaching out to dial the front desk.
“...Hello?...Two coffees
” You requested, “And, um
” You drew the receiver away. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“Toast for now.”
“And two orders of toast
Room 402
Thank you.” You hung up, settling back down in bed. “It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Should be ten for what we’re paying to stay here, ” Tommy sighed, brushing his cheek against your shoulder.
“Did you sleep alright?”
“Fine
You?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Tommy rolled away, stretching and yawning widely before he sat up. You stayed in bed, trying to remember the warmth of Tommy cuddling so close, certain that you wouldn’t feel it again any time soon. You’d forgotten how nice it was to be held. You watched him for a few moments, taking in the expanse of his pale back before you finally pushed yourself to sit up, lowering your gaze to the sheets as Tommy turned back toward you.
“...You alright?” He asked after a moment. You swallowed thickly, forcing a placid expression as you met his gaze again.
“Of course.”
For a moment, you thought that he may push back for an answer, but he let it go, nodding as he fished into his coat pocket for his cigarettes.
-- 
The news that the Blakes would be visiting Birmingham had reached Pearl first. She had mentioned it to Polly, who had told Tommy while Lewis was in earshot. Lewis had written and sent you a note, and you’d had the facts of it by noon.
By the time Tommy returned for the evening, you were completely occupied with the arrangements. He found you in the kitchen with notebooks and your planner spread out over the table.
“I see you’ve heard,” He commented.
“I have.”
“Is there dinner?”
“There's soup and bread in the oven.”
Tommy grunted, walking more deeply into the kitchen. You hardly registered the feeling of him resting his hands on your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.
“...How was work?” You asked after a few moments.
“Fine.” You heard the oven door open, then close again. You tutted as he nudged some of your work aside, setting his plate down before he sat beside you. You could see Tommy rolling his sleeves up out of the corner of your eye, but you simply drew another notebook nearer to yourself, eyeing an itemized grocery list.
“What are you doing?” Tommy asked after a moment.
“Totaling the estimated costs. I want everything to be prepared before they arrive.”
“Mm
Have you eaten?”
You turned the page of your mother's old notebook, brow furrowing. Was it apple cake or apple pie that the Blakes preferred? Or apple strudel? You knew that there was apple involved—
You jolted as the notebook was yanked out from beneath your hands, tossed to the other side of the table, out of reach. You whirled around, eyes wide.
“Tommy!”
He pushed the plate toward you, turning it in your direction so that the stew was closer to you than it was to him. “Eat.”
“And what’s to stop me from just taking up the notebook up again?”
“I am.” Tommy snapped his fingers, pointing at the plate. “Eat.”
You huffed softly, taking up a piece of bread and reluctantly dipping it into the stew.
“...I made this for you,” You grumbled.
“What was it that the minister said when we were married? About the two being as one? Means we share.”
“How technical,” You grumbled through your mouthful. You glanced up as Tommy nudged a glass of wine closer to you. You took the glass up, taking a deep pull before passing it back. Lord above, you hadn’t even realized how hungry you were. It hit you all at once, your stomach grumbling as you swallowed. You didn’t dare look at Tommy, nervous that he’d heard it.
“How long have you been at this?” He asked, waggling a finger toward the mess on the table.
“I don’t know. A while.”
“Mm. An awful lot of uproar for the Blakes.”
You cast him a sidelong glance, brow raised. “The Blakes are one of the oldest families in our acquaintance. I haven’t seen them since I was a child, since—” Since before your mother had passed. You cleared your throat, lowering your gaze to the plate. “Anyway. I was just going over my mother’s old party notes. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Beyond offending them and losing our connections? Gee, Thomas, I can’t think of a thing,” You quipped dryly. He seemed to smile unwittingly.
“Less chatting, more chewing,” He counseled, nudging the bowl closer again.
-- 
“I trust you have everything in hand.”
Pearl’s tone indicated that she did not trust that you did, in fact, have everything in hand. Despite her prickly barb and lack of faith, you’d managed everything quite well. The Blakes would be staying in your guest room, which had been fully kitted out when you’d remodeled the house. You’d ordered in a chef and a sous chef for the next few days, giving you the freedom to deal with the house, and you’d hired on a maid permanently. Ethel was a quick, eager, high-spirited woman, who had practically been your shadow for the last few days.
You cast Pearl a sidelong glance, jaw clenched as she lazily swept her eyes across the neat sitting room. You could just make out the sound of the cook and his sous chef bustling about in the kitchen, Ethel in the living room, setting the table.
“Yes, I have,” You nodded. “And thank you for all of your help this week.”
Pearl snorted at your contemptuous tone, tapping the ashes from her cigarette into a tray on the sideboard.
“You’re the lady of the house. You have to learn how to manage these things for yourself sometime. It may as well be now.”
You sighed, turning to the house and straightening the cushions for what had to be the eightieth time that day.
“Did you see them when they went into the office?” You asked, glancing back toward Polly.
“Mm, briefly. Beulah looked like hell. Poor woman never did have the stomach for the crossing. They booked too late, couldn’t get a cabin close enough to the middle. She must've spent the last five full days chucking her guts up.”
“Pearl,” You scowled, disgusted.
“I”m simply saying, don’t be too offended if she doesn’t eat too much at dinner tonight.”
“Mm. How about the old man?”
“Oh, you know Chester. Strong as an ox. He’ll outlive us all.” Pearl was quiet for a moment before she added, “They brought Hugh.”
The news hit you like a freight train. You groaned loudly, giving your foot one petulant stomp before striding over to the door to the dining room. You drew in a deep breath, steadying yourself before you opened the door.
“Ethel.”
“Ma’am?”
“We’ll be ten for dinner tonight—Unless,” You glared over toward Polly, “You have any more surprises.”
“Not a one. You’re a dear, Ethel,” Pearl gave her a bright smile. You turned your own tight smile toward Ethel, nodding, “Ten.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s better this way,” Pearl insisted as you let the door swing closed. “You were saying that you hated a lopsided table. Hugh evens out numbers.”
“How kind of him,” You grumbled. “How old is he now?”
“Thirty.”
“Married?”
“Divorced.”
“Mm.”
“...Attractive.”
You arched a brow at Pearl’s comment. She watched you for a moment before she lowered her gaze to the smoldering end of her cigarette.
“Is your husband still seeing that woman?” She asked. The mention of Lizzie made your gut pang with bitterness, but you forced your face into an uninterested mask as you shrugged.
“I don’t know,” You admitted.
“Does he bring her around?”
“No, but he may go to her. However he handles that business, he doesn’t—...It isn’t in the house, at least.”
“Have you considered asking him?”
“I don’t care what he does.”
“It’s up to you to know. Especially for the course of this visit.”
You sighed softly. “Thomas will do what’s best for the business. He won’t jeopardize it for a roll in the hay.”
“You’re certain?”
“Trust me, aunt. If there is one thing that he cares for in this world, it’s that.”
-- 
Pearl’s assessments of your visitors had been correct—you could see that the second they walked through the door.
With a full head of greyed hair and a neatly trimmed handlebar mustache, standing at 6’2, Chester Blake had the same larger-than-life air that he’d possessed when you were young. He was a little thicker around the middle than he had been the last time you’d seen him, but the sands of time didn’t exactly flow north. He was aging, but he wore it well. Beulah, on the other hand, looked as if she’d spent the entire crossing on the cargo hold of the ship. Her hair and clothing were neatly styled, but her typically pinked fair skin looked sallow, and her expression was drawn. Her bright grey eyes were dull, and her smile seemed just a little wobbly as she took you in.
“My word,” She managed, “How much you’ve grown.”
“And you haven’t changed at all,” You smiled as you embraced her, “Either of you.”
“A lie, and one that your mother would’ve abhorred, rest her soul,” Chester patted your shoulder, “But I’m happy to hear it myself.”
You smiled, shaking your head.
“I think that my mother would’ve scolded me if I hadn’t said as such.”
Tommy skirted around Beulah, resting a hand on your hip and leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. You smiled, despite the fact that the show of affection was likely a show for your guests.
“We mustn’t all crowd in the doorway,” You insisted as Tommy helped Beulah out of her coat, passing it off to Ethel, “Can I get anyone a drink?”
“Have you got whiskey?” Chester asked as they followed you into the sitting room.
“Man after my own heart,” Tommy commented, walking over to the sideboard.
“And you, Beulah? Some tea, perhaps?” You suggested softly. She took your hand, giving it a grateful squeeze.
“I’d love nothing more.”
“Ginger?”
“You’re an angel.”
“Ethel,” You turned to your maid as she headed for the kitchen, “A ginger tea for Mrs. Blake, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
You guided Beulah to a seat before joining Tommy at the sideboard.
“Would you like one?” He murmured.
“Thank you, no. I think it’d be best if I kept my head for the evening. There’ll be wine with dinner, besides.”
“Mm.”
You glanced toward Beulah where she had closed her eyes, then looked toward Chester, where he was eyeing the tintype photographs of your parents, and of Lewis when he was young.
“...Where are the boys?” You asked after a moment.
“With Polly and Pearl, showing Hugh a good time at the Garrison.”
You groaned quietly in annoyance. That was just what you needed—the lot of them spilling in to dinner, absolutely smashed.
“They’ll be on their best behavior,” Tommy added before you could complain further.
“You’re certain?”
“They gave me their word.”
You pressed your lips into a thin line before you gave a short nod, murmuring, “Alright.” You could feel Tommy eyeing you for a moment before you felt his hand slide across your waist. You raised your eyes to his as he shifted just a little closer, his hip pressing to yours.
“The contract was signed this morning—everything from here on out is just pleasantries. Relax.”
You drew in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before you sighed, lowering your eyes to collar. You closed your eyes as Tommy leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You patted his hand softly before he drew away, taking up one of the glasses and turning back to your guests.
“Here you are, Chester.”
You glanced toward Beulah, grimacing as you saw her raise her hand to her mouth, resting it there, as if she wasn’t sure whether she’d be ill or not. You walked over to her, forgoing propriety as you crouched beside her.
“The tea should be ready in a moment. Would you like to go and lie down for a few minutes before dinner?”
She gave you a small, grateful smile.
“I’ll be alright, dear,” She insisted, patting your hand. “But could I ask you to get the tin of mints from my coat? They’re in the left pocket.”
“Of course.”
You straightened, heading for the coat closet. You’d only just retrieved the tin when the front door was flung open. You heard the clamoring of voices just a moment later, and you watched as Polly, Pearl, Lewis, Arthur, John, and an unfamiliar man piled in. You folded your arms across your chest, unable to help the slight, disapproving raise of your brow. Pearl caught sight of you first, and she cackled, pinching your cheek.
“Give up the sourpuss, pet, it’s only us.”
“I can see that, thank you.”
Ethel zipped into the hall, rushing to collect the coats as quickly as they were being shrugged off. You gave Lewis, Arthur, and John a peck on the cheek as they passed you, heading into the sitting room.
“I don’t get one?”
The man’s voice gave you pause, and you turned to get a better look at him.
Hugh Chester Blake had been a menace of a child when you were growing up—stealing your books, dipping the ends of your hair in ink, shoving you down into the dirt as he passed. Your gaze swept him speculatively. He had his mother’s eyes, his father’s thick, dark head of hair. You had remembered a lanky little twit, but he’d grown to be quite tall and quite broad.
“Hello, Hugh,” You greeted.
“That’s not a very warm welcome, is it.” He took a step closer, and you fought the urge to step back, swallowing thickly as he crowded into your space. Christ, where had Polly and Pearl gone? Play nice, just play nice. Pleasantries, you thought. Thomas had done the hard work, you couldn’t undo it by insulting the man—
“About time, Hugh,” You heard.
You could’ve cried with relief as Tommy joined you, curling a territorial arm around your waist.
“Mrs. Blake is looking for those mints, darling,” Tommy added. Darling, that was new—Your mind stalled at the endearment before you squeaked, “Oh, goodness! Excuse me.”
You hurried away from the crowded doorway, just catching on Tommy saying, “You boys took your sweet time.”
You crouched beside Mrs. Blake’s seat again, murmuring your apologies as you passed the tin over.
“It’s quite alright,” She insisted, “I know all about the hosting game—your attention is torn ten different directions.”
You smiled gratefully, giving her hand a squeeze as you straightened, glancing around. Everyone had drinks in hand
And Tommy and Hugh were still in the doorway. You frowned, recognizing the tight, irritated set of Tommy’s jaw. What could they possibly be discussing—?
“Dinner is nearly ready, Mrs. Shelby.” Ethel’s news snapped you out of your contemplation, and you nodded, smiling at her.
“I’ll start herding the cats, then. Thank you, Ethel.”
--
Dinner had gone off without a hitch. Every dish had been prepared perfectly—and the chef had been quick to heat broth for Beulah when she’d been wary of not being able to keep any of the rich meal down. You could feel yourself beginning to truly relax as you watched Pearl and Polly dance with John and Lewis. The sound of the record player, their chatter and laughter began to brighten up the typically drab, quiet calm of the sitting room.
“Room on your card for me?”
Hugh’s question made you clam up again, and your eyes darted to his palm. Pleasantries. You could manage one dance, couldn’t you? You gave him a small smile, resting your hand in his. You knew the moment that you did that it was a mistake. He tugged you far too harshly toward the others, causing you to nearly trip over your own feet. He rested his hand on your lower back, fingers splaying wide, nearly dipping lower than what was appropriate. Your hear ticked up in your chest as you took in the ruddiness in his cheeks.
Hugh was drunk.
You didn’t know how much he’d had at the Garrison, but he’d been pounding the wine back at dinner, nearly drinking an entire bottle alone, and hardly touching his food. Now, he jerkily steered you around the crowded space, his grasp on your hand so tight it was nearly painful. Where was Beulah? Maybe you could excuse yourself to check in on her—
“I’m cutting in.”  
Your eyes darted gratefully to Tommy as he grasped Hugh’s jacket, forcing the man to stop.
“What?” Hugh asked, face reddening in irritation.
“I said,” Tommy stepped closer, “I’m cutting in. I want to dance with my wife, if you don’t mind.”
If you don’t mind. It was tactful, almost genius. It put the ball in Hugh’s court. The polite thing to do would be to acquiesce; if he didn’t, the phrasing and his refusal to let go would seem absolutely ridiculous. You felt Hugh glance between you and Tommy before he reluctantly passed you into Tommy’s hands.
“Thank you for the dance,” You added over your shoulder before Tommy steered you to the other side of the dance floor. You sighed softly, resting your forehead against Tommy’s shoulder. “Your timing was superb.”
Tommy hummed knowingly, swaying you slowly as Arthur switched the record over.
“Are you alright?” He asked, sweeping his thumb over the side of your hand.
“I am now,” You murmured, lifting your head to look at Tommy. He nodded, gaze sweeping your face. His nose brushed gently against yours, his eyes flitting to your lips, and lingering. You swiped your tongue along your lower lip, stomach fluttering as Tommy pressed his lips to yours. You felt the swaying slow, then stop as Tommy’s arm curled around your waist, drawing you into his chest. You gently lifted your hand from his shoulder, resting on his nape. You had barely kissed him on your wedding day. This was sweet in a way that you’d never known from Tommy—a way that you wanted to become more familiar with.
The hoots and whoops from Lewis, Arthur, and John snapped you from the tender embrace, and you turned your head from Tommy, embarrassedly pressing your face into his neck.
“Alright, pipe down,” Tommy grumbled. When you managed to draw yourself from your nervous hiding place, you found Polly and Pearl sharing a smile.
--
“
What are you doing in here?”
The question flew out of your mouth, coated in your surprise, and you could see the swell of Tommy’s amusement as he closed your bedroom door behind himself.
“Hugh is in my room,” He informed you. Oh—Lord above. You nodded a little. Of course. How hadn’t you thought of that?
“I see,” You muttered. Tommy hummed, pushing off from the door and walking deeper inside. You watched him take in the furnishings, his gaze sweeping the armchair and bookshelf, the small reading table, the nightstand
And the bed. You raised your hand, scrubbing at the back of your neck.
It was going to be alright, you told yourself. You’d slept with Tommy—you’d been asleep with Tommy—before, just a few weeks ago. That had been a comfortable enough experience, so
So this would be more than alright. You were certain of it.
“I’ll just,” You gestured toward the divider in the corner of the room, “I’ll go change.” You skirted around it before Tommy could argue, or offer to be the one to change behind it. You plucked up your pajamas and stepped behind the divider, scrubbing your hands over your heated face once you were out of his line of vision. How did this man still make you so nervous?
“...It was a lovely evening.” Tommy’s insistence floated over the divider to you, prompting you to snap into action.
“Yes, it was,” You answered, words slightly muffled as you drew your dress up and over your head. You hung it over the silk folding screen, reaching for the fastenings on your brassiere and corset. “I’ll have to give the cook an excellent recommendation. Dinner was superb.”
“Yes.”
You drew off your thigh-highs, hanging them on the screen by your dress. You pulled on your nightdress, smoothing your hands over the cool, sky-blue fabric before putting on the matching robe.
“
May I come out?” You asked, damning your nerves.
“Of course.”
You stepped around the screen, surprised to find Tommy in bed already. He had the manuscript that had been on your bedside table in hand.
“You’re making progress,” He commented, flipping through a few pages, skimming a few of your corrections and notes.
“I was. Things got a little
Held up with the Blake’s visit,” You admitted. You’d hardly touched the manuscript in the last couple of weeks. You walked over to the basin, trying to ignore the feeling of Tommy’s gaze following you.
“
Is that new?” He asked.
“Hm?” You looked at them, finding his gaze lingering on your exposed legs. The interest in his gaze warmed you, and you hurriedly looked away again as his eyes swept upward. “Oh, the—This? No.”
“Had it long?”
“A few months.” It was another outfit that you’d gotten for your honeymoon months ago—one that Tommy would never had had a reason to see before.
“Will you be reading before bed?” Tommy asked.
“I think not. It’s been a long day.”
The stress was beginning to drain from your system, making you feel the full weight of your fatigue. You were almost certain that you’d fall asleep the second your head hit the pillow. You washed your face quickly, listening to Tommy turn the pages of the manuscript every few moments. When you finished, you dried your hands and turned back to the bed.
“Would you like to leave that light on?” You asked, nodding toward the lamp on the bedside table as you shrugged your robe off, hanging it up on the bed post.
“I can do without it, unless you’d like it on.”
“No! I’m alright,” You chirped as you climbed into bed, tugging the covers up. Tommy set the manuscript aside, shutting the light off before he settled down in bed beside you. You could feel his legs brush against yours as you the two of you laid on your sides facing one another.
“
Hugh’s a live one, isn’t he,” Tommy commented.
“He hasn’t been told no much before.”
“That became quite clear.”
You shivered at the thread of steel in Tommy’s tone. You reached out, tracing a finger gently along the back of his hand.
“Thank you again,” You added, “For stepping in when you did.”
“I told you,” Tommy turned his hand over beneath yours. “If I ever find out another man touched you, I’ll give you his hands.”
You huffed a soft laugh through your nose.
“May put a bit of a damper on your contract with his father.”
“Though they’d make an excellent trophy above the mantle.”
“That’s vile,” You giggled, smile widening as Tommy’s hand wrapped around yours. You were quiet for a few moments, reveling in the heat of his palm against yours. “
I don’t suppose I’m afforded the same opportunity?” You added.
“What do you mean?”
“Whose hands would I get to take as a trophy?”
Tommy met the statement with silence, and it made you want to sink into the bed. You’d been joking—
“There’s been no one,” He finally said. The admission made your heart stutter in your chest.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s been no one,” He repeated.
“But
Lizzie—”
“Not for months.”
Months. When had it stopped? And—
“Why?” You asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Tommy raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He pressed another to your forearm, then shifted closer, lips brushing against your shoulder. He turned his head, and your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“Tommy—” You breathed, but you were unable to get another word out as his lips covered yours. You sighed against his lips, raising your other hand to smooth over the close crop of his undercut. He let go of your hand just long enough to grasp your nightdress, using his hold on the fabric to draw you closer, then steer himself up over you. You let your thighs splay as he slotted between them, pressing his bare chest against you, hips flush and grinding against yours. His kisses trailed lower, hands grasping covetously at the fabric covering your chest. He gave the lace a yank, and you hissed softly as you heard it rip.
“Tommy—Oh,” Your mouth fell open as he drew one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, “Damnit—I liked this nightdress.”
Tommy lifted his head, lips brushing your chin. “I’ll get you others,” He grumbled against you, “I’ll buy you a hundred more tomorrow.” His hand slipped between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against your pussy. You tipped your hips up into his touch pleadingly, lowering your chin and finding his lips with yours.
“I want you bare,” He murmured against your lips.
“Are you going to fuck me?”
“No.”
The answer made you go still, embarrassment and nerves flipping your stomach. Tommy took your face in his hands, holding your gaze steadily with his.
“I’m going to make love to my wife.”
--
His palm pressed heavily over your mouth, muffling your moans as his cock stretched your needy core. You pressed your head back into the pillows, curling your arms around his shoulders, and your legs around the backs of his.
“Sssh,” He murmured, the push of the hush brushing against your ear. “We don’t want the Blakes hearing, do we?”
You managed to shake your head a little, blinking up at Tommy as you panted broadly against his palm. Your cunt throbbed around his cock as he fully sheathed himself in you. You reached up, tugging Tommy’s hand away and catching his lips in a kiss. His fingers intertwined with yours, raising your joined hands to rest on the pillow beside you. He rolled his hips gently, then again as you whimpered, swirling his tongue with yours. Tommy fucked you with slow, even strokes, trading slow kisses as you moaned and panted into one another’s mouths.
Tommy broke your kiss, pressing his face into your neck as his thrusts became harder. You gasped, sinking your nails into his shoulders as you let your eyes slide closed. The bed was beginning to creak with his movements, the slapping of your hips slightly muffled beneath the sheets. You felt the familiar curling sensation beneath your waist, and you slid a hand down, grasping Tommy’s behind and using the grip to urge him on. He drew back just enough to get a good look at you, his eyes bright in the dim room. You sucked in a stunned breath as he reached between your legs, fingers teasing your clit as his hips pounded yours more roughly.
Your eyes widened as the headboard whacked against the wall behind you.
“Tommy,” You chastised, “Hugh will hear—”
“Let him,” Tommy spat, “Let him hear how I take care of my wife.”
You bit your lip to quiet your moans, grasping his wrist and stilling it as his touch tipped you over the edge. Your hips bounded up against his, chased by the harsh slamming of his hips, and the heat of him spilling into you. The scrape and squeak of the bed quieted as Tommy braced himself over you, looking down at your sweat-sheened body. He leaned down, brushing his lips over your breasts, then up, over your neck. You closed your eyes, curling your arm around his shoulder and resting your hand on the nape of his neck. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the pounding of his heart against yours. You turned your head, nuzzling his hair and pressing a kiss to his head.
“
Think that dresser has enough room for my things, too?” He mumbled. You grinned, tightening your grip on him as his hand tenderly smoothed along your thigh.
“It certainly does.”
Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @babaohhhriley ; @thescarletfang ;
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kat-mobile · 7 months ago
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could i request a small fic/imagine where tommy is soft with only his girlfriend/fiancĂ©/wife and his kids?đŸ«¶đŸŒ
Scary? My God you're divine!
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A/N: hey babes, this is actually longer than I was expecting lmao. It still is under 1000 though. I am a huge sucker for soft!Tommy so thank you so much for this request 😍. I named the baby Charlotte before I realised how much her full name sucks and then couldn't be arsed to change it, so apologies to Charlotte Shelby. This is probably also ooc but I don't give a shit, but I hope you like it anon!!! 💕💕
You knew what Tommy did, what came with his job. All the illegal affairs and cutting people up. You'd be a fool not to. But you couldn't help but feel as if the real Tommy Shelby was the one who came out when he was with you.
Ever since the start of your relationship, Tommy had always acted differently around you, much softer, always there to place a soothing hand on your back or hunch over to talk to you with his lips brushing your ear, his words meant for no ears but your own. His hardened gaze softened and the corners of his mouth would quirk up in a a miniscule smile, only momentarily but you would count that as a win no less.
Arthur had employed you to help run things at the garrison, you weren't exactly excellent at maths but you were certainly better than Arthur so you would help with the books as well as working as a barmaid. The two of you met for the first time when Tommy burst into the office of the garrison with a cut on his sharp cheekbone, he thought he would be opening the door to his brother, you thought he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. You insisted on helping and sanitising the "wound" and although he initially refused he soon gave in to your worried frown and relentless offer of help. The two of you had been practically inseparable since, rarely seeing one without the other and if one was missing they were never very far behind.
Tommy took to you almost immediately after meeting you, and Polly clocked him the very next day. The woman always was good at reading Tommy and that day was no different.
Over the next couple of months, whenever he was around Tommy barely let you lift a finger, always eager to help lift things and assist in anyway possible, never letting you out yourself in any risk whatsoever, no matter how small. At first you were offended, thinking that he was doing it because he thought you incapable, what with you being a woman, or if he didn't trust you enough to do things on your own. But when you brought it up one day, thoroughly fed up, he was quick to quell your suspicions and doubts by instead admitting his growing feelings towards you. Absolutely zero persuasion was needed for you to agree to a date with the handsome Tommy Shelby, and now three years later you're married with an adorable little four month old baby girl named Charlotte.
Tommy often refers to your small family as his greatest weakness, saying that if it ever gets out how soft he is that his reputation would never recover. But you just laugh to yourself and cuddle in closer, hand coming up to stroke Charlotte's head. No one would believe it if it got out, he has nothing to worry about.
The first time Tommy had held her you would've thought she was made out of cheap glass, fragile and likely to break at even the smallest of mishandlings. You knew from the moment that little Charlotte Shelby first opened her eyes, sharp and blue like her fathers, that she had Birmingham's most feared gangster wrapped around her teeny tiny pinky. Once the doctor had shown him how to hold the baby properly, supporting her head and all that, it was hard to separate the two.
Every night when he came home to you he would lie in the centre of the bed with you curled up into his side, head resting on his firm shoulder, and he would place the small babe to lie on his bare chest, small legs tucking up in a scrunch like a frog and cute babbles making the corners of his eyes crease.
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scorpiussage · 2 years ago
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Tommy Shelby + Hot Asshole Neighbor
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Warnings: none, swearing
@shelbydelrey
You really hate whoever it is that’s moved in next to you. They come and go at all hours of the night, they have absolutely zero respect for the ‘no smoking’ rule, and they always have a guest over who shouts! One of these days, you’re going to meet whoever this asshole is and you’re going to give them a piece of your mind!
Except, you never actually manage to catch them. Your schedules just don’t align it seems, so instead you write a strongly worded letter and tape it to their door. You even sign your name and apartment number, that’s how fed up you are!
Later that week, when you’re relaxing with a bottle of wine and your favorite tv show, there’s a knocking at your door. Letting out a groan, you haul yourself up out of the comfortable confines of your couch and slouch your way to the door.
You throw open the door, very irritated to be interrupted, “Yeah? What do you w-.”
Your words die out quickly as you take in the appearance of the person on the other side. Easily the most tragically handsome man you’ve ever seen is at your door holding the letter you wrote in his hand.
You both stare at each other for a long moment before the man clears his throat, “I got your letter. I wanted to apologize for disturbing you.”
You gape stupidly at him for a moment before it registers in your mind that this is the asshole who’s been driving you nuts these past few weeks.
“Oh, uh,” you stutter out, trying to figure out how to respond. Apparently this is a common occurrence for this man because he smirks at you and waits patiently for the answer, “It’s okay. Just keep it down, yeah?”
He nods and then his eyes are raking up and down your form and you suddenly feel very self conscious wearing only a large t-shirt and booty shorts. There’s something about that hooded stare of his that makes your core clench up in want and anxiety in equal measures.
“Let me make it up to you,” he says, leaning forward into your space to rest against the door frame.
“H-how would you do that?” you ask, trying to draw yourself up to look more confident.
A devilishly handsome grin stretches on his face, “I can think of a few ways.”


Check out open slots for bingo here!
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itshelia · 1 year ago
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Is it just me or everyone imagine their fav characters that they are obsessing over in real life???
Like I'll be at work and then I imagine that bitch sitting next to me, talking to me and admiring me while I FUCKING KNOW THAT I HAVENT KISSED A MALE SPECIES IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
I don't know if that's sign of a fucking mental problem or what but I swear if I'm even Slightly upset or tired of my life i WILL open tumblr and start imagining them or talking to them (aka my wall. It be sitting there like the fuck gurl im not your man)
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hllywdwhre · 11 months ago
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Revenge - Tommy Shelby
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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.”
3K notes · View notes
warnersister · 9 months ago
Text
How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon
(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk
TommyđŸȘ–
đŸȘ–it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.
đŸȘ–Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.
đŸȘ–he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a
 long night
đŸȘ–but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.
đŸȘ–you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror
đŸȘ–you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.
đŸȘ–”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”
đŸȘ–he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went
đŸȘ–so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body
đŸȘ–you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress
đŸȘ–you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.
đŸȘ–you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.
đŸȘ–you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.
đŸȘ–later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.
đŸȘ–you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.
đŸȘ–Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.
đŸȘ–”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”
đŸȘ–Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”
đŸȘ–Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.
đŸȘ–Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.
đŸȘ–he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.
đŸȘ–”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.
đŸȘ–”I’m buying you more o’ these.”
Alfie🧾
🧾Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.
🧾”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.
🧾”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.
🧾”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.
🧾”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”
🧾”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”
🧾then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.
ArthurđŸș
đŸșso. Fucking. Antsy.
đŸșcan’t keep his fucking hands off of you.
đŸșleft early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.
đŸșyou decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.
đŸșyou’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.
đŸșyou’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.
đŸșthen you spotted it; the sundress
đŸșArthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.
đŸșand you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.
đŸșso you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.
đŸșyou decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.
đŸșyeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.
đŸșso you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.
đŸșyou knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.
đŸș”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.
đŸș”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.
đŸș”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.
đŸșthen it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.
đŸș”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.
đŸș”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.
JohnđŸ„ƒ
đŸ„ƒbold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.
đŸ„ƒhe’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.
đŸ„ƒno he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.
đŸ„ƒhe liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.
đŸ„ƒgave him a sense of homeliness.
đŸ„ƒa bit of normality.
đŸ„ƒtoday was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.
đŸ„ƒâ€mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.
đŸ„ƒâ€right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.
đŸ„ƒyou practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.
đŸ„ƒâ€right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.
đŸ„ƒâ€it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.
đŸ„ƒyou move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.
đŸ„ƒhe dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs
đŸ„ƒâ€and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”
đŸ„ƒand then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door
đŸ„ƒhe managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.
BonnieđŸ„Š
đŸ„ŠBonnie’s just as bad as John
đŸ„Šcannot keep his hands off of you
đŸ„Šâ€â€™m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.
đŸ„Šâ€is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.
đŸ„Šyou put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.
đŸ„Šso you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”
đŸ„Šâ€Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.
đŸ„Šyet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.
đŸ„Šâ€right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.
đŸ„ŠBonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.
đŸ„Šhe picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.
đŸ„Šâ€this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.
đŸ„Šyou lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.
đŸ„Šand when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”
đŸ„Šyou pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.
đŸ„ŠHe was being extremely difficult
đŸ„Štrying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.
đŸ„Šâ€Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)
đŸ„ŠBonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.
đŸ„ŠBonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.
đŸ„ŠThe rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.
đŸ„Šthen when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.
đŸ„Šâ€well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.
đŸ„Šâ€just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.
Isaiah♟
♟haha.
♟again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.
♟feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.
♟you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.
♟eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.
♟“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”
♟”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.
♟”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”
♟”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”
♟you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away
♟he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”
♟and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.
♟did not wait until you got to the bedroom
♟defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked
♟and on the sofa
♟and the kitchen table
♟and then bedroom
♟(you never took the dress off)
♟and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways
♟”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.
♟then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.
♟”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes
MichaelđŸŽ±
đŸŽ±he wouldn’t be here nor there
đŸŽ±loved how it looks on you
đŸŽ±but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.
đŸŽ±he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.
đŸŽ±the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.
đŸŽ±what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.
đŸŽ±he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.
đŸŽ±and of course, history tends to repeat itself.
đŸŽ±again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.
đŸŽ±â€I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.
đŸŽ±in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.
đŸŽ±even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.
đŸŽ±never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.
đŸŽ±so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.
đŸŽ±you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.
đŸŽ±you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered
đŸŽ±but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.
đŸŽ±he was there soon thereafter.
đŸŽ±and he was fucking seething.
đŸŽ±he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing
đŸŽ±but nothing could soften the red he saw.
đŸŽ±how dare you wear that dress?
đŸŽ±practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home
đŸŽ±but tonight was different
đŸŽ±â€Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you
đŸŽ±â€undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.
đŸŽ±â€killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.
đŸŽ±he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.
đŸŽ±â€listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car
đŸŽ±â€and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.
FinnđŸŽžïž
đŸŽžïžFinn is just horny 25/8 icl.
đŸŽžïždoesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.
đŸŽžïžit was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.
đŸŽžïžTommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.
đŸŽžïžwaltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.
đŸŽžïževen shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”
đŸŽžïžhe noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.
đŸŽžïžâ€why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.
đŸŽžïžthen when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.
đŸŽžïžJohn came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.
đŸŽžïžâ€dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.
đŸŽžïžJohn claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.
đŸŽžïžyou giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says
đŸŽžïžâ€what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”
Aberama🌞
🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke
🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion
🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.
🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.
🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.
🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.
🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.
🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.
🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:
🌞his gorgeous bride.
🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.
🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.
🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.
🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.
🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.
🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns
🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.
🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began
🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.
🌞make your skin fucking crawl.
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