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queenshelby · 9 days

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Sweet Possession (Part 4)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

"What is going on, Tommy?" you asked when he came back inside, still feeling a little uneasy about what you had seen outside.

Thomas hesitated, his eyes darting around the room before settling on your face. "Just business, Love," he said dismissively, but there was a guarded look in his eyes that made you think he was hiding something.

"But what kind of business?" you pressed, your voice tight with apprehension.

"Business that I cannot discuss with you," Thomas replied, a hard edge to his voice.

You flinched at this, recoiling slightly from him. "Can't, or won't?" you asked, your eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Thomas sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. "Can't," he said firmly. "It's better that way."

But you couldn't let it go. Something in your gut was telling you that there was more to this than he was letting on, and you were determined to get to the bottom of it.

"I am your wife, Thomas. You made me a promise on our wedding day to always be honest with me. I deserve to know what's going on," you said, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive gesture.

Thomas sighed and walked over to the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He took a long sip before setting the glass back down on the table with a heavy thud. "I have been asked to export certain things on behalf of the Crown. Things that the Crown cannot itself be seen to be involved with," Thomas finally admitted, his voice tense and low.

Your eyes widened with shock as you absorbed his words. The Crown? Exporting things that they couldn't be seen to be involved with? What on earth could that mean?

"What kind of things?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Thomas hesitated before finally answering, "Weapons. Guns. Ammunition," Tommy explained, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Illegal things," you gasped, your heart twisting with a mix of fear and disappointment.

"Not illegal, just controversial," Thomas replied, his voice still low and tense. "And necessary. It helps fund our operations and the facilities we support, including the orphanage you want to work in," he told you and you stared at him, your mind reeling with the implications of his words.

"So, it is legitimate? Because you are doing this on behalf of the crown?" you asked, struggling to make sense of the information Tommy had just revealed to you.

Tommy nodded. "It's a delicate matter but, of course, I wouldn't do anything illegal. You know that, right?" Thomas asked, his eyes pleading for your understanding.

You nodded slowly, taking in the weight of this new information. "Of course. I trust you , Thomas," you finally whispered, albeit with some hesitation.

Thomas let out a sigh of relief at your words, pulling you into a tight embrace and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he murmured.

But as the night wore on, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something was still amiss. The idea of Thomas being involved in such controversial and dangerous business left a bad taste in your mouth, and the thought of him endangering himself for the sake of others weighed heavily on your heart.

The following morning, however, you went on with your day as if nothing had happened. It was your first shift at the orphanage, to which you had agreed last minute as someone else had, apparently, called in sick.

Isiah, was again, tasked to drive you to the orphanage and, when you told him that he could simply drop you off and then pick you up later, he shook his head.

"No, I need to stay with you Mrs Shelby," he replied, his voice brooking no argument.

You sighed inwardly, not wanting to cause a fuss but also slightly annoyed at the thought of having your every move shadowed by Isiah.

You couldn't shake off the feeling that he was keeping tabs on you for Thomas.

But you swallowed your pride, knowing that it wouldn't be wise to defy Thomas given everything that had happened the previous night. You assumed that he was just being overprotective of you and this was kind of sweet, you thought.

The orphanage was buzzing when you arrived and a young man, around 25-years of age, greeted you in the grand hall of the big building. His name was James McKinnin , a well-known social worker of the city.

"Hi, it is so nice to meet you. I'm Y/N Shelby, Thomas' wife," you said with a smile, extending your hand towards him.

James clasped your hand firmly and shook it. "Mrs Shelby, of course. I heard that you we were coming," James told you , his voice full of enthusiasm. "Mr Shelby called me yesterday evening, at around midnight, to let me know that you would be joining us and it was quite a surprise, you know. Mr Shelby donates a lot of money to our organisation and I would not have expected his wife to volunteer with us as well," the man continued, his tone earnest as he led me down a long corridor.

"It's my pleasure and a little selfish really. I miss the work but, since I moved in with Thomas, I gave up my employment, so I have become rather bored," you said honestly and James smiled at my response.

"That's very commendable Mrs Shelby, but let me ask you, do you have any experience in a setting like this? Without meaning any disrespect, being Mr Shelby's wife, I had expected you to be a little older," James asked, his words laced with polite curiosity.

"No, but I am eager to learn, and I am certainly not afraid to do some hands-on work. Before meeting my husband, I worked in a factory and then in a pub, cleaning up after drunk men, so I am no stranger to hard labor," you replied with a small chuckle.

James smiled warmly at your response, clearly impressed by your determination and down-to-earth attitude. "That's fantastic, Mrs Shelby. I'm sure you'll be a great asset to our team. Let me give you a quick tour and introduce you to the other staff members," James said as he led you further into the orphanage. "Michael, one of our duty managers, will be looking after you and explain everything you need to know," he added as he spotted Michael in the distance.

Michael was a tall, slender man in his mid-twenties with short, curly brown hair and warm hazel eyes. He greeted you with a friendly smile and shook your hand firmly, welcoming you to the orphanage. He then gave you a brief orientation and introduced you to the other staff members, who were all friendly and welcoming as well.

As you worked there, you began to realize just how much need there was in the community and how much of a difference your husband's donations were making.

You felt proud to be a part of it, even in a small way.

That day, Michael showed you everything you needed to know in a commercial kitchen setting, which is where you wanted to work. It was your passion, cooking for others and Michael appeared to be an excellent source of information.

Isiah, however, always stood in the corner, observing your interactions with the tall man who, for his liking, occasionally came to close to you when working in the kitchen.

"Here, let me show you," Michael said on one occasion as he approached you from behind, taking the knife from your hands. "This is an easier way to prepare the herbs for the soup," he said, brushing your arm ever so slightly and causing Isiah to intervene.

"Everything alright here?" Isiah said, his tone stern and disapproving.

"Yes, of course," you replied, flustered at the intrusion. "Michael is just teaching me how to prepare the herbs for lunch," you added in an attempt to defuse the tension that had suddenly filled the air.

Michael nodded a greeting towards Isiah, who continued to glare at him with suspicion but nodded nonetheless.

Isiah then intervened a few more times over the next few hours, insinuating that Michael was getting too friendly and, eventually, you couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable with his presence.

Despite this, however, the day had been productive and fulfilling for you. You had made new friends, learned new skills, and felt a sense of purpose that had been missing in your life for quite some time.

As the sun began to set, Isiah drove you back to Thomas' luxurious home and, just after Frances greeted you and Isiah, you made your way to Tommy's office.

"You are late," was the first thing he said , not looking up from the documents in front of him. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek before settling into the chair opposite him.

"I am sorry, I didn't realize the time," you answered with a small smile. "I was just so engrossed in what we were doing."

This seemed to appease him, and he looked up and smiled at you, reaching across the desk to take your hand in his. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said softly.

"I did," you answered, squeezing his hand.

"I really did. I never knew that working in a kitchen could be so fulfilling."

Thomas smiled at your enthusiasm, his eyes softening as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad," Tommy smiled before asking you for Isiah's whereabouts.

"He is downstairs," you said. "Shall I send him up?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of caution. Thomas' demeanor had shifted again since that morning, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why.

"Yes, I have some business for him to take care of," Thomas replied, his tone curt and dismissive. You nodded and stood up from your chair, making your way to the door. But before you left, you turned back to Thomas and looked him in the eye.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, searching his face for any signs of distress.

"Yes Love," Tommy said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Everything is fine," he added, although his voice didn't quite ring true.

You frowned at his response, not entirely convinced. But you nodded anyway and made your way to the door, calling for Isiah to come upstairs and, unbeknownst to you, what Tommy really wanted from him was an update on your day.

"How was it?" Thomas thus asked as soon as Isiah walked into his office and closed the door behind him.

"It was fucking boring ," Isiah replied with a sigh, leaning against the door. "Just a bunch of kids and their annoying chatter," he explained to his boss who, of course, had some more questions.

"And what about the employees. Did they treat my wife with respect?" Tommy asked , his voice low and tense.

"Of course, they did," Isiah replied with a shrug. "They were all very friendly, although, one of them was a bit too friendly in my opinion," he went on to say , causing Thomas's eyes to narrow.

"How so, Isiah?" Thomas asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Just one of them kept getting a little too close to her," Isiah replied with a shrug.

"Too close how?" Tommy queried with a steely glint in his blue eyes. He didn't like the sound of some man invading your personal space after he had secretly made sure, for many years, that you were shielded from these kinds of advances. However, as Thomas pressed for more information, Isiah's response was casual and nonchalant.

"Just talking to her a lot, and touching her arm on occasion," Isiah finished, still leaning against the office door.

"He touched her?" Thomas repeated, his voice deceptively calm.

Isiah nodded. "Yeah, a couple of times," he confirmed before, explaining to Tommy again that the employee in question had only touched your arm. "Her arm, Tommy. Nothing else," Isiah clarified, sensing Thomas' growing tension.

"Did you get his name?" Thomas asked, his voice low and growly as he clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to conceal his anger.

"Yeah. His name is Michael Grosvenor," Isiah told Thomas, his voice steady despite the dangerous look in his boss' eyes.

"Michael Grosvenor, eh" Thomas repeated, testing the name on his tongue. He would remember that name. "Did my wife seem interested in his advances?" Thomas then asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Isiah shook his head. "No, she seemed a little uncomfortable with it after it happened a few times, but she didn't say anything," he answered honestly.

Thomas nodded, his mind already racing with plans of how to handle this situation.

He had always made it clear to the men in town that his property was off-limits, but now it seemed that some of them had forgotten that rule.

"I see," Thomas said simply, his voice deadly calm. He stood up from his chair and walked around the desk to stand in front of Isiah. "I want you to keep an eye on my wife whenever she's at the orphanage. Do you understand?" Thomas ordered, his voice low and commanding.

"Yes, boss," Isiah responded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He nodded once, before turning and exiting the room, leaving Thomas alone with his thoughts which began to race incoherently until, eventually, he snapped out of it and walked downstairs to the reading room where he knew he would find you.

"Y/N, may I have a word?" Thomas said, his voice rough and low as he entered the room. He closed the door behind him with a definitive thud, before walking over to you, the sound of your own heavy breathing filling the air around you.

"Of course," you responded, your voice a breathy whisper, your heart pounding in your chest as Thomas knelt down before you and pulled your legs apart, his gaze fixated on the lacy underwear you were wearing, catching you off guard.

"Thomas," you gasped, your fingertips digging into the plush armchair you were sitting on as he placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh, just above where your stockings met your skin.

"Isiah tells me that one of the employees at the orphanage got a little too close to you today," Thomas growled, his voice gravelly with desire.

You let out a soft moan as he traced his fingers along the seam of your underwear, the lace already damp with your arousal.

"No, oh god Tommy, it was innocent," you moaned , your head falling back as he pressed a tender kiss to your clit through the thin fabric.

But Thomas wasn't having it. He was insanely jealous and protective of you, and the thought of some man touching his property made him see red.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down your thighs, baring you to him. He growled as he saw how wet you were, your pussy glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Innocent, eh?" Tommy groaned. "Just like you were, just days ago, before we got married," he continued, pinching your clit firmly between his thumb and forefinger.

You cried out at the sensation, arching your back as you clung to his shoulders, digging your nails into his muscular arms.

"Tommy," you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you with his fingers. "Please," you begged, not sure what you were asking for, but knowing that you needed more.

"Please what?" Thomas rasped, his mouth hovering over your pussy as he waited for your response.

"Fuck me," you whimpered, unable to hold back the words any longer.

"But why should I?" Tommy asked. "You let some stranger touch what's mine and now you want me to give you what you want?" Thomas growled, his fingers still teasing your clit.

You whimpered as you processed his words, but the ache between your legs was insistent.

"He didn't. I mean, he touched my arm. Oh god, please," you moaned, pulling his head towards your core, desperate for some kind of release.

Thomas chuckled and obliged, pressing a tender kiss to your clit before slipping a finger inside you. You gasped at the intrusion, your back arching off the chair as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, his thumb still teasing your clit.

You felt yourself building towards your release, but just as you got close, Thomas pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty and unfulfilled.

"No, don't stop," you begged, your voice breathy and desperate.

Thomas smiled at you wickedly, his fingers still slick with your arousal. "Tell me who you belong to, Y/N. Who owns you, eh?" Thomas repeated, circling your clit with his thumb as you writhed beneath him. "Say it."

"You do," you gasped, your breath hitching as he stroked your aching core with deliberate slowness.

"Be precise," he demanded, his voice low and raw with need.

"You own me. You own my body. I'm yours," you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea.

Thomas smiled, a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. He held up his fingers, still slick with your arousal, and sucked them into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you.

"Good girl," he praised, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for his belt.

You watched him undo the belt, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for what was to come next.

Thomas pulled the belt from the loops of his trousers, the sound of the leather slithering through the buckle echoing in the stillness.

"Tell me again," he commanded, his voice rough and ragged with desire as he approached you, the belt coiled in his hand like a snake ready to strike. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Thomas," you panted, your eyes wide and fixed on the belt in his hand. "I'm yours. Only yours," you confirmed, your voice heavy with desire.

Thomas' eyes blazed with a primal hunger as he lifted the belt and brought it down against your inner thigh with a sharp crack.

You gasped at the sudden sting, your eyes watering with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Thomas watched you carefully, his eyes searching for any signs of discomfort or distress. But all he saw was your desire-filled gaze locked onto his, inviting him to continue.

He raised the belt again, bringing it down on your other thigh with an equally sharp crack. You whimpered at the sensation, your hips bucking up towards him as you begged for more.

Thomas' eyes narrowed as he dropped the belt to the floor with a thud, his hands going straight to your hips to hold you in place. He tugged your legs apart wider, his gaze locked onto the glistening folds of your aching pussy.

"You're so fucking wet for me," Thomas rasped, his fingers tracing the slick seam of your core.

He spread your arousal over your clit, the sensitive nub throbbing under his touch. "And all mine," he growled, his eyes flashing with a primal hunger as he pushed down his pants , his hard cock springing free.

You moaned as he positioned himself at your entrance, notching the tip of his shaft against your slick folds. "Yes," you hissed, digging your nails into his shoulders as you arched your back, ready for him.

Thomas thrust into you in one swift movement, filling you to the hilt. You cried out at the sudden invasion, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he buried himself inside you.

Thomas groaned as he felt you tighten around him, your walls clenching him like a vice.

"Fuck, Y/N," Thomas growled, his hips pistoning in and out of you in a punishing rhythm. He reached down between your bodies and found your swollen clit with his thumb. He pressed down on it, rubbing it in slow circles as he continued to thrust into you.

You moaned as he touched you, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

Thomas was merciless, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

Thomas reached down and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing gently as he powered into you. You whimpered at the feeling of his hand on your throat, your pussy clenching around his cock in response.

"You like that, don't you?" Thomas growled, his voice low and raw with desire. He had never taken you like this before, so possessively and it quickly became overwhelming for you.

The hand around your neck, the unyielding thrusts, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours. The pleasure was so intense that it bordered on pain. But, before you knew it, your orgasm was already creeping up on you. With every circling motion of Thomas' thumb on your clit, you felt yourself getting close to the edge.

"Come for me, Y/N," Thomas rasped through gritted teeth as he continued to thrust into you at a relentless pace.

"I want to feel you come all over my cock."

Your breath hitched as the heat within you coiled tightly, ready to unravel at any moment. Your legs shook around Thomas' waist, trying to keep contact as he hit your sweetspot over and over again.

With one last, hard circle of Thomas' thumb on your clit, you cried out as you toppled over the edge. Your orgasm tore through your body like a freight train, leaving you panting and trembling in its wake.

Thomas groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, milking his cock as you came. He continued to piston in and out of you, chasing after his own release which came much faster than he had expected.

Pulling out of you quickly, he cupped your mound, his fingers massaging and teasing the sensitive folds of skin as he watched you come down from your orgasm while he stroked his cock. He was so turned on by the sight of your pleasure that he couldn't help but take his own.

"Touch yourself, Y/N," he growled. "I want to watch you make yourself cum again, Love," he told you and so you did.

Your fingers hovered above for a moment before brushing over the sensitive nub of your clit. You gasped at the contact, your hips bucking as you felt yourself growing more and more aroused.

Thomas' eyes blazed with desire as he watched you touch yourself, his hand continuing to stroke his cock in long, languid movements. He groaned as he saw your pink flesh flush a deep red, your arousal unmistakable.

"Yes, just like that," Thomas rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Make yourself come again."

You whimpered at his words, your fingers moving faster over your clit as your pleasure mounted.

"Oh god, Thomas," you gasped, your legs shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Thomas groaned, his hand moving faster as he watched you touch yourself until, finally, he too came, hard and fast.

He grunted as he spilled his seed onto your stomach, the thick, white ropes of his release painting your skin in a primal display of possession.

You watched him, your chest heaving as you caught your breath, your pussy still clenching in aftershocks of pleasure. Thomas' eyes met yours, the dark desire in them sending another flush of heat through your body.

"Jealousy suits you , Tommy," you whispered, your fingers still stroking your sensitive clit.

Thomas chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your stomach flutter. "I'm not jealous, Y/N. But what's mine is mine and I won't have anyone else touching it," Thomas growled, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip as you lay panting beneath him, his tone determined.

"Nothing happened," you reassured him, your voice softer than a whisper. "It was just a small touch. It was inadvertent, innocent and it meant nothing."

Thomas nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, before pulling up his pants.

"I can't help it, Y/N," Thomas admitted, his voice low and rough. "I need to know that you're mine.

Only mine," Thomas rasped, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh.

"I am," you whispered, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him weak at the knees. "I've always been yours, Tommy. Only yours," you repeated, emphasizing the words that seemed to drive him wild and, whilst you had boyfriends before him, none of these relationships really lasted.

One of the men you had been with before meeting Tommy was killed in a fire following your second date while the other had disappeared without a trace, as had your brother. Men seemed to always have abandened you until now.

Until Thomas Shelby. Thomas had been a constant force in your life. Never leaving, never giving up on you and always making sure that you were safe and secure. But as much as you belonged to him, he belonged to you too.

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queenshelby · 9 days

Note

Thx a lot 4 the incest fic with Thomas!! Im so in love with that type of dark content

Then you will love what I have in store next hehe 😜

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queenshelby · 9 days

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part 23)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

"I should have him killed," Tommy said as soon as Robert left the room, but you bristled at the suggestion.

"No, Tommy, you can't do that!" you objected. "This is all my fault, I know that and I will find a way to fix this," you promised gravely, eyes pleading for Tommy to reconsider. And, even though you too knew the full weight of your actions, somehow your heart didn't feel heavy, not yet. Instead, you still felt the euphoria of being with him: the exhilarating feeling as though his love was an intoxicating drug that coursed through your veins.

"Relax. I wasn't serious," Tommy conceded, softening his expression as he observed you, although he knew well that, by keeping Robert alive, there was always a risk the truth could inevitably bubble to the surface.

"I'll make sure he never breathes a word about this though," Tommy promised, his voice firm and his eyes hard and you nodded silently, still reeling from what had just happened.

" Tommy," you eventually whispered meekly after almost three minutes of silence, your heart pounding as you reached for his hand and he took it in his own, his grip warm and steady.

"Yes, Love?" he asked, intently focused on your expression.

"I don't want you to marry Lizzie," you admitted quietly, your heart still reeling from the whirlwind of emotion that had swept through the room.

Tommy let out a sigh, releasing your hand as he turned away and paced toward the large fireplace at the far end of the room.

Gripping the mantlepiece with white-knuckled intensity, he spoke in a low growl towards the flames dancing merrily within the hearth.

"Love, it's already done and it's for the best, eh" he insisted. "I can't call off the wedding and I most certainly can't be with you, no matter how much I want to," he added, his voice thick with regret.

The air in the room became heavy, filled with unspoken emotions that weighed down on you like a poorly fitted corset, squeezing the air from your lungs.

You searched his face, trying to find any kind of warmth that could hint at the love he said he felt for you, but his gaze remained fixed on the fire crackling within the hearth.

"I can't just forget about us though," you admitted softly, taking a tentative step towards him as if approaching a caged lion. "I read the letters," you told him with tears in your eyes.

"Yes, the letters I never send to you for a fucking reason," he snapped, his disappointment written clearly across the hard lines of his handsome face. "You are my goddamn niece for fuck sake!" Tommy thundered, spinning around rapidly and taking a step towards you. The blazing fire behind him illuminated his sculpted face, casting deep shadows across his features as he looked at you with an expression that swung between despair and frustration.

"But we didn't know when all of this started between us," you protested quietly, maintaining the fragile connection between you.

"Does it fucking matter now, Love?" Tommy ground out, his voice a rasp of gravel and anger as he stared down at you.

You trembled under his gaze, those blue eyes that could both soothe and incite fear burning with an intensity that left you wanting to surrender, even as your heart screamed at you to run.

"Society won't care about whether we knew or not. No one would ever fucking marry us and I certainly won't get into the House of Fucking Commons if it was to be found out that I fucked my own niece," Tommy growled, his body rigid with tension.

"I cannot change the fact that we are related, and I cannot change the fact that I want you more than anything in this world. But it doesn't fucking matter. We just -," Tommy began, only to be cut off by your lips on his.

"Shut up," you whispered, your voice thick with desire.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him to you, kissing him deeply. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he hesitated for just a moment before he kissed you back, his lips devouring yours with a passion that took your breath away.

Tommy's hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his arousal pressing into you, hot and hard. His fingers dug into your hips as he lifted you up onto the desk, spreading your legs apart.

"I don't want marriage. I don't even want you to admit, in public, that you have feelings for me, but I want to be with you occasionally and I don't want to fucking share you," you panted, your voice shaking with desire as his hands roamed your body.

"Y/N, we can't do this," Tommy groaned, even as his lips found your neck and his breath ghosted against your skin. "But I can't fucking keep my hands off you either," he admitted, the words like a confession against your heated flesh. "What are you doing to me?" Tommy breathed, hands gripping your hips so tightly it was almost painful. But you reveled in the knowledge that you had this effect on him, a man who was so in control of everything around him, reduced to a panting, pleading mess of sensations.

You arched your back, breaking the kiss as you reached upwards, unbuttoning his shirt again. The strong lines and shadows of his chest unfolded before you like an illicit gift and you couldn't resist running your fingers over his skin, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat under your touch.

"I need your cock inside me , Tommy," you demanded, biting your lower lip as you looked up at him with a hunger that he mirrored in his eyes.

He groaned at your words, low and deep in his throat, his blue eyes darkening with desire as they locked on you.

You reached down to pull your skirt up further, exposing yourself to him as he pushed his trousers down and stood between your open legs, his throbbing need evident of its fierce desire.

Tommy's hungry gaze never left yours as he pushed into you in one sharp movement.

Your head fell back with a gasp, his name spilling from your lips as you welcomed him deeper inside.

You were wet and ready, the slickness coating his length as he filled you completely. The feeling was indescribable; pleasure mixed with guilt and longing that made your heart race and your mind whirl with emotions.

Tommy's eyes blazed with lust as he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved within you.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "You feel so fucking good."

Despite the cold air in the room, sweat beaded on both of your brows as you matched his thrusts, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The desk beneath you creaked and shifted with each harsh movement, but neither of you cared. The world outside this room didn't matter, only the two of you and the primal connection between you until, finally, you reached your high.

"Oh my fucking god , Tommy!" you screamed as your orgasm tore through your body. His name tasted sweet on your lips and you relished in the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin as you clenched around him. "Yes, yes, just like that," you gasped, your head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure as he drove into you harder. Tommy's movements became more frenzied, his control slipping as he chased his release.

"Fuck , Y/N," he growled, his voice nothing more than a guttural rumble as his hips snapped forward. "You're going to make me come so hard."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting the flames of your own renewed desire.

You clenched around him, milking his cock with your thighs wrapped tightly around his waist as he continued to piston in and out of you until, finally, he stilled.

Groaning even louder than before, Tommy emptied himself deep within you, seed dripping from your still-quivering entrance as he fell forward, resting his forehead against yours.

His breaths came in short pants, and you smiled as his cock twitched in the aftermath of its climax within your warmth.

"Fuck I love you," Tommy muttered, eyes drifting closed as a sigh of pure ecstasy passed through his lips. He shivered against you.

"I love you too," you whispered back, the warmth of your breath brushing against his cheek, causing goosebumps to rise up all over his body.

You sat and stood there for a moment, completely intertwined with one another, your chests heaving in sync. The only sound in the room was the steady beating of your hearts and the labored breaths leaving your lungs.

You looked up at Tommy and noticed the satisfied, blissful expression on his face that you had put there.

His hair was slightly damp with sweat and stuck to your forehead as his body relaxed against yours on the desk. The satisfaction that warmed you up from the inside, knowing that you had done this to him, was unparalleled. You loved seeing him lose control, even if it was just for a moment in time. After a few moments of post-sex silence, Tommy slowly pulled out of you and stood up straight. His body glistened with the sweat of exertion and desire and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you draped over his desk, thoroughly fucked.

But the smile quickly faded as reality came crashing back down.

"We can't keep doing this, Love," he muttered, tucking his shirt back into his trousers and doing up his belt. "I am getting married tomorrow," he reminded you, causing you to nod.

"I know," you replied softly, still catching your breath. The feeling of emptiness as he pulled out of you was a stark reminder of the cruel reality. "I know it's wrong, Tommy."

He leaned over the desk and kissed you gently on the lips, a small promise that he would always protect you.

As you pulled your skirt back down and fixed your hair, Tommy took one last look at you before turning to leave the room. The silence of the study felt heavy and charged, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest.

You watched as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone in a state of blissful satisfaction, and the chilliness of the room brought reality crashing back down around you. You knew that this moment couldn't last forever, but it was something that you would cherish nonetheless.

Tags:

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #cillian murphy imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby au #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction

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queenshelby · 9 days

Text

Sweet Possession (Part 3)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Later that day, just as you were waiting for your husband to return home, you couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety in your stomach as you thought back to your strange encounter at the Italian grocer earlier that day.

The way the man's eyes had flickered down to the gun hidden beneath Isiah's jacket, before quickly averting his gaze. The memory sent a shiver down your spine and you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Despite that, you quickly put those thoughts aside as you heard Tommy’s footsteps carrying through the door of Arrow House.

You glanced at the clock hanging in the hallway, realizing that it was already shortly after eight o’clock in the evening.

Thomas walked into the reading room where you were sitting, nursing a glass of wine, the dinner you prepared waiting in the oven to stay warm. He was, still wearing his coat and looked somewhat tired.

"I am sorry I am late , Love," he greeted you, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Is everything alright?" you asked your husband, concern etched in your voice as you gazed into his tired eyes. You noticed that there were faint lines around his eyes that you hadn't seen before.

"Yes , everything's fine," Thomas assured you, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, trying not to let your suspicions get the better of you.

"Good. I'll go and serve dinner then," you said, standing up from the sofa and making your way into the kitchen but, just as you stood up, you noticed some red blood stains on the collar of his shirt which he was clearly trying to hide by leaving on his coat.

Nonetheless, you decided not to address it, giving Thomas a reassuring smile before you walked off.

"I should have a shower first, Love. It has been a long day," Thomas told you truthfully in passing, his voice still low but there was a lilt to it, like he was keeping something from you.

"That's fine. Just come down when you are ready," you called after him from the hallway and he gave you a quick nod and a smile before disappearing upstairs.

Minutes later...

The dinner that you had prepared was delicious. The meat had cooked to tender perfection and the rich, earthy flavor of the mushrooms you had picked from the forest earlier that week complemented the dish beautifully. The aroma alone was enough to make your mouth water.

Carefully, you removed the dish from the oven and set it on the table in the nearby dining room, lighting the candles that you had arranged in its center. You had always loved setting a nice table, believing that food always tasted better when it was presented beautifully.

You had spent many hours as a young girl watching your mother, a talented cook, prepare meals for your family. Now, you were proud to use the skills she had taught you.

You had just finished setting the table when Thomas walked into the dining room, his dark hair still damp from his shower. He was wearing a clean white shirt and dark trousers, looking both comfortable and sophisticated. His face was free of stubble and his eyes sparkled with warmth as he looked at you.

"Something smells good," he commented, walking over to where you stood by the table and giving you a kiss.

You blushed, always feeling a little shy when Thomas praised you.

"Thank you," you responded, making a small curtsy before taking your seat at the table. Thomas chuckled, sitting down across from you and reaching for the glass of whiskey you had already placed in front of him, knowing how much he enjoyed a drink as he dug into the food.

"I enjoy cooking. In fact, I was thinking about doing some work at the local orphanage. The children there could really do with some decent meals , and it would give me a chance to feel useful," you told Tommy as you served yourself up some food as well, never enjoying the maids doing it for you.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at this, studying you closely. "You want to work at the orphanage?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your wine. "Yes. I know how much you support local charities and causes. You're always helping people in need, and I want to do my part too."

Thomas smiled at this, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "That's very thoughtful of you, Love. I'm sure the children will appreciate it," Thomas replied, gazing at you with a softness that made your heart flutter. "But remember, Love, the world can be a dangerous place for a young woman and you, of all people, should know that, eh."

"It's an orphanage, Tommy. It's not the Garrison," you chuckled, recalling the night he had saved you from a less than favorable situation. Thomas cocked an eyebrow, his face growing serious.

"I know that, Love. But even so," he began to say, before trailing off, collecting his thoughts. "I will send Isiah with you," he then said, shaking his head and you stared at Thomas for a moment, surprised at the intensity of his words. It was clear that he was deeply concerned for your safety, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his protective nature.

"You are always so worried about me ," you told him with a soft smile, reaching across the table to take his hand in yours. He met your gaze with a steady one of his own and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It's my job to worry about you, Love," Thomas replied, his voice low and earnest. "You're my wife, and I want to keep you safe."

The two of you finished the rest of the meal in relative silence, the only sounds being the soft clinking of silverware against china and the occasional sip of whiskey or wine.

Thomas watched you closely, his gaze warm and affectionate. He had always been a protective man, although sometimes his methods could be a little unconventional. But you knew that in his heart, he always had your best interests at heart.

As you finished your meal and pushed your plate away, Thomas leaned back in his chair and gave you a small smile. "I have something I want to show you," he said, his voice low and mysterious.

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued. "What is it?" you asked and Thomas smiled, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"It's a surprise, Love," he said, standing up from his chair and offering you his hand. "Come on, I'll show you."

You took his hand and let him lead you out of the dining room and down the hallway to his study. The room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a soft glow over the large wooden desk that dominated the space. Thomas closed the door behind you and crossed over to the desk, reaching for something behind it.

It was then that you noticed a large painting leaning against the wall, wrapped in thick brown paper.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" You asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. Thomas chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Patience, Love," he murmured, carefully unwrapping the painting to reveal an exquisite work of art. It was a portrait of you , a stunningly accurate depiction of your likeness, down to the last detail. Your eyes were wide with surprise as you took in the image of yourself, feeling a little self-conscious under Thomas' intense gaze.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, reaching out to touch the canvas. The brushstrokes were delicate and precise, capturing the softness of your skin and the warmth of your smile. You had never seen anything quite like it before.

"I had it commissioned as a wedding present," Thomas explained, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wanted something to celebrate the woman you are, and the woman you're becoming."

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, filling your heart with a sense of love and pride. You had never felt so cherished, so adored. It was an incredible feeling, one that left you breathless and overwhelmed.

You stood there, hand still resting on the painting, heart pounding in your chest as you looked into Thomas' eyes. You could see the raw desire burning in his gaze, the hunger that told you he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"This is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas stepped closer to you.

His hand reached out, gently grasping a tendril of your hair, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Thomas growled, his breath hot against your skin.

Your heart raced as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing down onto yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless.

"Tommy ," you gasped, your voice barely audible as his hands roamed over your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before cupping your breasts over your dress.

"Yes, Love?" Thomas murmured against your lips, his thumb teasing your nipples through the fabric until they hardened beneath his touch.

You moaned softly, arching your back into his touch as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a dance that was both familiar and thrilling.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as the hunger inside of you grew stronger.

"I want you, Tommy," you whispered hoarsely, your breath hot against his ear.

Thomas responded with a growl, his hands tugging at your dress until it slid down to your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your lacy underwear.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," Thomas groaned, taking a step back to drink in the sight of you. "And you are mine," he added possessively, reaching out to trace the curve of your hip with his fingertips.

You shivered at his touch, feeling a pulse of desire low in your belly. You had never felt so desired, so wanted before. It was intoxicating.

"Yes, I'm yours," you whispered, reaching out to touch him in turn. Your hands found their way to his belt, the metal buckle cool against your skin as you undid it and slid it free from its loops.

Thomas groaned as you began to undo the buttons of his trousers, revealing the hard length of his cock beneath.

"Fuck, Love," Thomas gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You pulled him forward, pressing your lips to his collarbone and trailing kisses down his chest as you unbuttoned his shirt and sank to your knees before him all at the same time.

The scent of him was musky and intoxicating, and you couldn't resist the urge to take him into your mouth.

"I have never done this before," you confessed, looking up at him with shy, yet eager eyes.

Thomas' expression softened at the admission, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek. "I know , Love," he murmured. "I'll guide you." And with those words, you opened your mouth eagerly, waiting for him to make the first move.

Your tongue darted out, teasing his tip and tasting his pre-cum as it leaked out. Thomas moaned deeply, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you to take him deeper, urging you to taste more of him.

You complied eagerly, exploring every inch of him with your mouth as Thomas thrust gently into your throat. Your hands wandered up to his toned ass, pulling him closer as you sucked and licked with abandon.

Thomas' breath hitched as you drew back, gasping for air before sliding back down on him once more.

"Good girl ," Thomas grunted, guiding your head back down onto him.

You could feel the trembling in his legs as you worked him with your mouth, the intensity of his pleasure building to a peak.

"I'm going to cum, Love," Thomas warned, his voice low and strained. "Do you think you can swallow it?" Thomas asked, his voice tight with anticipation. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and nodded eagerly.

"Good girl," he praised you before grabbing a fistful of your hair and pumping his hips faster.

You worked your mouth up and down his shaft, feeling the throbbing of his cock intensify until finally, Thomas thrust deep into your throat and held it there as he came hard. You tried to swallow as much of him as you could, feeling the hot streams of cum coat your tongue before spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

You felt a sense of pride wash over you as you took it all in, Thomas's hips still thrusting as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

Finally, with one last gasp, Thomas pulled out, his cock sliding free from your mouth with a wet, sucking sound. You looked up at him with a sense of accomplishment and longing, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

Thomas reached down and gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment.

His eyes were soft, filled with love and admiration. You blushed under his gaze, feeling both proud and self-conscious at the same time.

"God, you're beautiful," Thomas murmured, his voice raw with emotion. "And so fucking sexy."

Your blush deepened at the compliment, but you didn't look away. Instead, you reached up and took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips for a gentle kiss. Thomas smiled at the gesture, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin as he looked down at you with a hunger that made your heart race.

"Come here," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel you."

You stood up, stepping closer to Thomas as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the evidence of your earlier efforts still slick against your thighs. The combined scent of him and of yourself left you heady, intoxicated by the smell of raw, unbridled sexuality.

His mouth found yours again, his lips claiming yours in a bruising kiss that left you breathless and trembling in his arms.

"I always wanted you to do things to me, on this big desk of yours," you giggled nervously , your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Thomas's grin deepened, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that made you shiver.

"Then what are you waiting for, Love?" He murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You didn't need any more encouragement than that. Within seconds, you had pulled your underwear down your legs and climbed up onto the desk, positioning yourself so that your ass was right at the edge.

"So fucking perfect ," Thomas growled, his eyes burning with desire as he took in the sight of you spread out before him, ready and willing.

You felt a rush of heat flood your body, the thought of being so exposed heightening your arousal to new heights.

Thomas reached out, his hands tracing the curve of your waist before moving up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending pulses of pleasure straight to your core.

You moaned softly, arching your back and pressing yourself into his touch.

Thomas' mouth found yours again, his lips silencing your cries as his fingers continued to tease your nipples.

"You like that, Love?" Thomas asked, his voice low and sultry.

"Yes," you gasped, your breath hitching as he rolled your nipples between his fingers. "Please, Thomas."

Thomas grinned at the plea, his fingers leaving your breasts to trace a path down your stomach and towards the apex of your thighs.

"God, you're so fucking wet for me," Thomas groaned against your mouth, his fingers brushing through your folds before delving deep within you.

You gasped, your back arching off the desk as Thomas began to thrust his fingers in and out of you. Each stroke hit a spot deep within you, driving you wild with pleasure.

"Please Love, let me cum inside you ," Thomas groaned, his breath hot against your ear.

"No , I- I can't," you gasped, feeling the familiar fluttering deep within your belly.

"Please ," Thomas begged as, finally, he aligned himself with your wetness and thrust into you with one swift push, but you knew that if you let Thomas cum inside of you, there was a chance you could end up pregnant. And with your life the way it was, the last thing you needed right now was a child.

You shook your head, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your husband bottomed out inside of you.

God, he felt amazing. But you knew that this was as far as you could go.\

"I am sorry," you whispered, your breath hitching as Thomas began to thrust his hips against yours, driving himself in deep and hard. "I-I can't. I'm sorry."

But Thomas seemed to understand.

"It's alright, Love," he murmured, brushing a stray curl from your face with a tender hand. "I'll just make a mess instead," he chuckled in between groans as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

Your nails dug into the desk, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Thomas's hips snapped against yours, his cock hitting that delicious spot inside of you.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your pelvis bucking to meet his thrusts. "Harder."

Thomas growled at the demand and obliged, his cock pounding into you with bruising force. You cried out, throwing your head back and bracing yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic, his breaths coming in short panting gasps.

"Fuck, I'm close Love," he groaned, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You nodded frantically, feeling your own pleasure coiling deep within you. "Yes, yes," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation as your own orgasm built within you.

Your nails dug into the surface of the desk even harder now as Thomas continued to drive into you with an almost brutal force. Each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body, your breasts bouncing in time with each stroke.

"Yes, Tommy! Oh god , I'm gonna cum!" You screamed as your orgasm tore through your body like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

Thomas's thrusts became erratic as he too, found his release, his hot seed filling the air around you as he pulled out and used his hand to finish the job.

You collapsed back onto the desk, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Thomas leaned over you, his arms braced on either side of your head as he caught his own breath.

"Fuck, Love," he groaned before, suddenly, you were being interrupted by one of the maids.

The sound of a knock on the door broke through your haze of pleasure, and Thomas quickly pulled away from you with an annoyed expression on his face. You each gathered your clothes and Thomas barked, not bothering to conceal his irritation at being interrupted in the middle of such an intimate moment.

The maid, a young girl with mousy brown hair and a pinched expression on her face, looked at the ground as she spoke, knowing exactly what you had been doing,

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a matter that needs your immediate attention."

Thomas sighed heavily and rubbed his temples with his fingers. he asked, his voice clipped and impatient.

"It's the new shipment of whiskey, sir," the maid replied nervously. "The delivery driver says it was damaged during transport, and he refuses to hand it over until you inspect it yourself."

The maid's statement caught Tommy by surprise. "Y/N, go upstairs!" he ordered you in a way he had not spoken to you before.

"Excuse me?" you asked, annoyed with the way Thomas had spoken to you. You were still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm and, frankly, the last thing you wanted was him to snap at you like this. It was unlike him.

Thomas let out a long-suffering sigh. "I am sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like this, but I need you to go upstairs and stay there. Please," he added as an afterthought, his voice softening.

"Fine ," you muttered, annoyance tingeing your voice as you slid off the desk and started to pull your panties back on, pulling them up beneath your dress.

You couldn't help but feel irritated at the interruption, even more so at the tone Thomas had used with you.

But you shook it off, reminding yourself that Thomas wasn't like that. He cared for you deeply, and you cared for him just as much. Maybe he was just having a stressful day.

When you arrived in the bedroom you shared with Tommy now however, you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on. A whiskey delivery at 10 o'clock seemed absurd and, with that in mind, you pulled aside the curtains and peaked out of the window .

Tommy was already standing outside, talking to a somewhat scary looking truck driver. But something was off. Tommy looked tense, his shoulders rigid and his expression stern.

The driver seemed to be making wild gestures, his hands waving around erratically as he spoke. And then, you saw it when the stranger opened one of the boxes on the back of his truck.

Inside there was no whiskey however, but instead, you saw something black, something that looked like rifles. A lot of rifles. Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Was this some kind of arms deal? And if so, why would Thomas be involved in something like that?

Tags:

#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy

267 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 9 days

Text

Sweet Possession (Part 2)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

The following day, however, brought a gloomy atmosphere into the room as, at around 6 o'clock, there was a knock on your bedroom door, causing you to startle.

Until that night, you had never shared a bed with Tommy , and the thought of being interrupted whilst still lying naked next to him made you shudder.

"Who is it?" Thomas barked, quickly wrapping a white sheet around his waist.

"It's Arthur," came the distorted voice of Tommy's older brother, resulting in Tommy jumping out of the bed, collecting his briefs from the floor and throwing them on. "What is it, Arthur?" Tommy asked as he hurriedly opened the door to reveal Arthur, standing there, waving at you while you simply blushed with embarrassment.

"Something's happened," Arthur blurted out. "Down at the docks."

Tommy looked at you, hunched up on the bed, clutching a sheet to your bare breasts. "Go put some clothes on, Love. I'll be back soon," he signaled to you, and you nodded in silence.

As soon as Tommy left the room, you crawled off the bed to gather your scattered garments from the floors, wondering what the problem was on site.

Since you moved into Tommy's house, there had been a lot of trouble at the docks and in his factories and when you asked your now husband about it, he would usually brush it off.

He often put it down to strikes or interruptions due to equipment breakdown and, as his partner in life, of course, you believed him.

Tommy was a businessman, not a criminal, and whilst you thought that his brother and Gypsie acquaintances were rather rough around the edged, you knew that Tommy was a good man.

He was a man who would do anything for you and you appreciated his kindness and the love he gave you, especially after you had been abandoned by all the other men in your life before him.

Even your older brother left you to your own devices when you were just seventeen, moving away from Birmingham without a word, as a result of which the home your parents had partially owned was being foreclosed on.

You had no choice but to move out and find work to sustain yourself, to be able to maintain a roof over your head and pay for your rent. And even then, it didn’t always suffice.

You were fired from three jobs until you found work at the Garrison and now you knew that you never had to work again.

Tommy took care of you now, treated you well and, even though he was determined to have children with you, he respected your wishes to wait.

He bought you horse, a white stallion and you were assigned not one, but two maids, which was something you always considered to be odd.

If you wanted to go to town and spend some time shopping, Tommy had a maid and a driver accompany you and today wasn't much different when you decided to head into the city of Birmingham for some groceries.

"Mrs Shelby, there really is no need. I can send an errand boy to do the shopping," Frances told you as you waved the list of items you wanted to buy in her perfectly manicured face with excitement.

"But I insist Frances. I want to do the shopping and then, tonight, I will cook a nice meal for my husband," you told her politely, seeing that you had always enjoyed to cook but had not done so ever since you moved to Arrow House.

"Very well, Mrs Shelby. Whatever you wish," she answered in a silky voice that reeked of credulousness.

"Fabulous. I know a really nice Italian Grocer by the Canal side. Do you think Isiah could drive me there?" you asked, knowing that Tommy was always rather worried about your safety and wouldn't have liked you driving yourself. Frances hesitated for a moment. "Of course, Mrs. Shelby," she said bluntly, but not without a hint of hesitation in her voice. "I'll call Isiah right away."

You smiled appreciatively at Frances and headed off to the bathroom, quickly freshening up before heading to the car that would take you to the Italian grocer.

The car ride was comfortable and peaceful, and you couldn't help but marvel at how much your life had changed since you first met Thomas Shelby.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the car pulled up to the front of the grocery store.

The sun was shining brightly outside, illuminating the bustling streets of Birmingham and casting a warm glow on the picturesque canal that ran along the side of the store.

You stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. The sound of laughter and conversation drifted towards you from nearby cafes and pubs, mixing with the distant horns and clatter of the ships moving through the canal locks.

"My mother always took me here when I was little. It's a nice little shop run by a lovely Italian family. My older brother, Alfred, used to bring me here all the time too, just after payday, before-" You paused, your smile faltering slightly. "Before he left to god knows where," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper and Isiah simply nodded with sympathy while you stepped into the shop.

The smell of coffee and bread greeted you as the door jingled shut behind you. Despite the modern facade, the interior remained cozy with a wooden counter in the middle that displayed a variety of pasta and cured meats. On the shelves, colorful tins of tomatoes and olive oil lined the walls.

Remembering the list in your hand, you carefully navigating your way through the narrow aisles and stocked up on your ingredients.

"I am sorry ma'am, but we don't serve Blinders here," one of the Italians said to you as you roamed through the shop and, since you had no idea what the man was talking about, you just laughed nervously.

"Excuse me?" you queried, confused while Isiah appeared behind you, flashing the gun hidden beneath his jacket, thinking that you wouldn't notice.

"We don't want any trouble miss," the stocky man corrected himself quickly, and you quickly blinked, trying to process what was happening.

"Why would I give you trouble?" you asked innocently, unable to make sense of what exactly was going and Isiah then politely urged you to finish up your shopping.

Without another word, you filled up your basket, paid for your groceries and left the store, feeling a sudden chill in the air despite the brilliant sunshine.

Isiah escorted you back to the waiting car in silence but you had so many questions that needed answering, but you refrained yourself from asking, believing that your new husband would soon explain everything to you when you returned home.

The short car ride was again filled with a heavy silence and you couldn’t help but feel unsettled.

As you walked through the front door, Frances took the groceries from your hands and you made your way upstairs to your bedroom to get changed. After a quick shower, you slipped into a nice but comfortable dress that Thomas had given to you as a gift.

You stared at yourself in the mirror and felt a pang of happiness in your chest. Your life had changed so dramatically since being with him and you couldn’t deny that you were happy.

You then made your way downstairs to unpack the groceries and start cooking. It was still early but you knew that the dish you were making had to sit in the oven for almost eight hours on low heat, so you knew to better get cracking. You were pleased with the simplicity and warmth of the task at hand, letting your mind relax as you chopped and sautéed the vegetables and meat.

As you worked, you couldn’t help but wonder about the strange encounter you had at the grocer. The man’s peculiar reference to “Blinders” and the sudden appearance of Isiah’s gun were both alarming and confusing. But, you shook the thoughts away, telling yourself that there was likely a simple explanation.

Tommy had an explanation for everything and, just as you were thinking about him, he came walking through the door of the large and rarely used kitchen in wing one of Arrow House, far away from the staff quarters. He greeted you with a gentle kiss on the cheek before pouring himself a glass of whiskey and looking at you contently.

"How did you go?" you asked your husband , referring to whatever business he had down at the docks.

Thomas took a sip of his whiskey, eyeing you carefully. "Fine," he told you. "There was some stock missing, but we dealt with it," Thomas explained, leaving out the gruesome details of the beating he ordered his men to give out.

"You know I employed a chef to do the cooking, Love ," Thomas said, changing the subject as he watched you chopping the vegetables.

"I'm aware, but I love to cook for you. I am your wife and this is what wives do, isn't it?" you smirked at Thomas, challenging him.

Thomas chuckled lightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he took another sip of his drink. "Yes, of course. I suppose it is," he conceded, a heartfelt smile playing on his lips as he drew closer from behind.

Thomas encircled your waist with one arm and nuzzled your neck softly, causing you to giggle and shiver at the same time.

"You look quite sexy in that dress and apron, Love ," Thomas murmured in your ear, giving it a slight nibble that triggered a heated blush infiltrating your cheeks.

You glanced at him with a playful smile before turning around, your hands instinctively moving to rest on his muscular chest, only to feel the outline of his gun sitting firmly in its halter.

"Why would you need to carry a gun?" you whispered, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze. Thomas' eyes flickered down to the gun before meeting your gaze again.

"Just a precaution, Love. There are some dangerous people in this city," Thomas replied, his voice low and serious.

You nodded, understanding his concerns but still feeling uneasy about the situation. Thomas seemed to sense your disquiet and leaned down to kiss you softly.

"I love you," he murmured against your lips, his arms tightening around you briefly before releasing you.

"I love you too, Tommy," you replied softly, your hands still resting on his chest.

Your heart softened towards Thomas in that moment, feeling a deep affection for him. You loved him deeply and you trusted him implicitly. Knowing him as well as you did, it was hard to imagine that his business dealings could be anything but legitimate, even as you had heard rumors about his involvement in illegal activities.

Thomas had always dismissed these rumors as mere speculation, nothing more than idle gossip and slander from his rivals. And yet, as you stood there in the warm kitchen, with the smell of dinner filling the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over you since your visit to the Italian grocer.

"I should really get back to cooking, Tommy," you said eventually, stepping out of Thomas' embrace and starting to chop the vegetables again, but Tommy simply removed the knife from your hand.

"The cooking can wait," he said huskily. "I've been thinking about you all day. About how beautiful you looked this morning when you were sleeping," he murmured as he nibbled your earlobe.

"I suppose we could eat a little later than usual," you replied, the tension from earlier melting away as Thomas' lips moved to your neck.

The room felt warm and intimate as the two of you stood there, wrapped up in each other's embrace.

"Fuck, I want you," Thomas whispered hoarsely as his hands traveled down your body, cupping your ass roughly.

You let out a soft cry as he lifted you up onto the kitchen counter, spreading your legs apart with a confident movement that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Tommy, what if a maid walks in?" you giggled nervously, your voice breathless as Thomas' fingers deftly slipped beneath your dress and apron.

"Then let them watch ," Thomas growled, his voice thick with desire.

He tugged your panties down, exposing your wet and eager pussy to his hungry gaze.

"You are unbelievable, Thomas!" you chuckled softly just before his fingertips traced the delicate folds of your sex, your body trembling beneath his touch.

Thomas wasted no time, plunging two fingers deep into your core.

"Oh god, Tommy," you cried out, gripping the edge of the countertop as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you.

"God, you're so fucking wet. So ready for me," Tommy groaned as his thumb teased your clit, and you writhed on the counter, grinding against his hand. You felt shameless and exposed, but also incredibly alive.

As Thomas unzipped his trousers, you watched through hooded eyes, your breath hitching as his hard cock sprang free.

He stroked it a couple of times, smearing pre-cum over the tip before using it to coat your slit.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

Thomas chuckled for a second. "Eager, aren't we?" he asked as he positioned himself at your entrance.

You bit your lip as you felt him push inside your tight warmth, stretching you mercilessly. You moaned at the sensation of him filling you up, the feeling of fullness almost overwhelming.

"Fuck, you're tight, Love," Thomas grunted, his fingers digging into your hips as he pistoned back and forth.

"Tommy, oh god please," you whimpered, unable to form complete sentences as the pleasure built inside of you.

"I love feeling you inside me ," you confessed, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you added, your voice barely above a whisper and, immediately, Thomas' eyes met yours for a brief moment, his gaze intense as he continued to fuck you.

"Neither have I, Love," Tommy told you and you cried out, biting your lip to try and contain the noise as the pleasure became almost unbearable.

You felt yourself climbing higher and higher, the tension building stronger and stronger until the waves of static pleasure crashed inside of you and, suddenly, you felt yourself falling, falling, falling and, as you kept screaming, the waves of pleasure crashed over and over again, never ending.

"Fuck, yes. That's it, Love," Thomas groaned, holding back his own release until you came down from your high. He then pulled out , springing free, and grabbed his cock, giving it a few quick thrusts as he sprayed hot streams of cum across your naked thighs.

Thomas leaned forward, moving your hair off your sweaty forehead, pressing a gentle kiss there before stepping back, still catching his breath.

Reaching for his handkerchief , he started to wipe the remnants of their earthly pleasures of desperation and passion from between your thighs and from his limp cock before zipping up his trousers again.

“Are you alright, Love?” he addressed you gentler than ever before and you simply nodded silently, before reaching for a glass of water and taking a deep sip, feeling a little thirsty after your vigorous desperation for passion and how ‘earthshattering’ your release became.

Thomas poured himself another glass of whiskey and watched you closely as you collected yourself.

"Now that was quite unexpected," you admitted, taking a deep breath before pushing yourself off the counter and swinging your legs down to the ground.

"Was it?" he chuckled before lightening himself a cigarette and offering one to you, which you accepted graciously.

"You know, something really strange happened today when Isiah took me to the Italian Grocer by the Canal on East Street," you started, changing the topic, as you took a deep drag from your cigarette. Thomas arched an eyebrow, encouraging you to go on.

"While I was picking up some fresh produce for dinner, one of the Italians in store told me that they weren't serving 'Blinders' at their shop and, when I queried him about what he meant by that, he told me that he didn't want any trouble. I think he saw Isiah's gun, but I can't be sure. It all was very confusing," you recounted the incident, trying to piece together what happened.

At that moment, Thomas' body language changed entirely. He leaned his head to the side, squinting his left eye and pressing his lips firmly together, as he listening to your confession.

"Did the man say anything else?" Thomas' voice was low and measured as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"No," you shook your head. "Well, not that I could understand," you told him, causing your husband to clear his throat.

"And what did the Italian look like?" Thomas questioned you with a furrowed brow, as he tried to gauge the seriousness of the situation based on the incomplete information you offered.

"Tall, skinny. He was about thirty years old, with dark hair and dark eyes," you said, almost absentmindedly, as you went on to describe more about the Italian's appearance. Then, suddenly, it struck you just how off-putting the interaction had become now, and some anxiety washed over you again. "Why are you asking?" you questioned Thomas, wondering about the reasoning behind the sudden interest in the man you met earlier today.

Thomas, sensing your apprehension, gave you a reassuring smile as he stubbed out his cigarette, extinguishing the glowing embers.

"No reason. Just mere curiosity, Love," Tommy told you before giving you a kiss on the cheek. "Now, why don't you finish cooking while attend some more business in town, eh?" he told you, his voice gentle and loving, but you noticed a hint of something else in his eyes, something that you couldn't quite identify.

"Alright Tommy," you agreed nonetheless and Thomas kissed you deeply one last time, before grabbing his hat and coat and disappearing off to town.

Tags:

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #tommy shelby #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy

344 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 10 days

Note

I’m obsessed with your new dark tommy series!!! This possessiveness he has over her is such a red flag, but also really HOT!!

What dark secrets does tommy have? 👀

We will find out soon but his wife hasn’t got anything to do with it. It’s all about the reader. Her family. Her life before him.

Thank you so much xxx

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queenshelby · 10 days

Text

Sweet Possession (Part 1)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

It was about four months ago when you met him, this blue-eyed stranger who would change your life forever. It was as if you had stepped into the unknown, shedding your old, familiar skin. He made your head spin with his charm and allure for the unknown.

When you talked to him for the very first time, it was as if you had known each other for years. He listened to you, and you felt as though he truly understood who you were and what you needed in life.

Despite being over 12 years older than you , Thomas Shelby made you feel safe and wanted, desired and accepted. You never felt such a connection to someone who had such an intense personality as Thomas and, most importantly for all, he showed you respect.

Thomas (or Tommy as you called him) was a wealthy business man from Birmingham and whilst you did not know much about his business activities, you knew that he was responsible for import and export of goods such Tabacco and cars.

With both of your parents not having survived the sinking of the Titanic, you had no one but yourself to stand up for and take care of yourself until Tommy came into your life.

He took you in and took care of you a few months ago, admiring your inner strength and determination to overcome all the challenges that life had thrown at you ever since you had turned 16, which was almost three years before you met him, your soon to be husband.

You were 19 years old when you met the 32-year-old in a pub named the Garrison shortly after you had started working there behind the bar. That night, Tommy had saved you from some unwanted attention from some other patrons and as you sat together that night, your connection was undeniable, palpable. Every guess or gut feeling you had ever had about your future guesses or dreams was confirmed in an instant. This was the moment that would change it all.

Fast-forward a bit and soon you found yourself living in Tommy's mansion, which you had yet to fully discover. The mansion was home to your own magnificent bedroom, Surreal wallpapers, wax-leafed walls, brass fixtures, and white porcelain handles.

It was surreal coming from almost living on the street to this and when Tommy asked you to marry him a few weeks ago, you accepted blindly only thinking of the safety and love he gave you.

The wedding ceremony itself was small, with only some of his family in attendance. You were his second wife; his first wife having died four years ago and this was something that did not bother you. You accepted him with all as his baggage, just as he accepted you.

***

Having respected your wishes not to engage in any sexual activities before marriage, you two waited for the big night, anticipating the pleasure of having each other's bodies.

Tommy had told you through the weeks leading up to your wedding day that he would be gentle, as he assumed you were still a virgin and had no experience with men. He also told you that he would teach you everything there was to know about sex, which was a prospect that excited you.

You knew that being abstinent for more than four months, must have been difficult for a man his age, and you couldn't help but admire him for his respect towards you and your decision to wait until your wedding night.

Unlike many other men, he said that he had no interest in the services of prostitutes and you believed him. He showed you that intimacy was not just about sex but more about the emotional connection between two people. But as each day passed, the tension between you two grew stronger and stronger.

The big night finally arrived. You had taken a bath, washing your whole body using a lavender-scented soap and then slid your body gently into a silky nightgown that you had bought in an expensive store downtown especially for you wedding night. As you looked at the mirror, you could not help but feel a bit nervous.

Tommy knocked gently on your door and after a short moment, he opened it up.

As you stood there in your nightgown, he couldn't help but stare. His eyes wandered over every bit of your body, and you could see the hunger in his eyes from a mile away.

Approaching you, he gently took your hand and drew you closer to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, making your core tighten.

"You are beautiful, Love," Thomas whispered in your ear, brushing a loose tendril of hair from your face, his breath warm against your skin.

He then took hold of your left hand again and tenderly kissed your wedding ring – a token of your eternal love. Your heart raced and your nerves tingled at his tender display of affection. Your cheeks felt flushed and the room seemed to be spinning as the moment you'd been waiting for your entire life was finally about to happen.

Your hands felt clammy and you were struggling to find the words to respond to the man you'd married.

"Tommy," you gasped. "I want you," you stammered, looking up into his sharp, handsome face.

He caught your gaze with a knowing smile. "Good, because I want you too," Thomas said, with his eyes blazing and expectant.

As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself being swept away on a tide of anticipation and desire.

Thomas stood in front of you, his fingers tracing the outline of your delicate collarbone.

He leaned in to softly kiss your quivering lips. His tongue danced upon yours for a mere moment before he pulled away. Slowly, he unbuttoned your night dress and let it fall gently to the floor, revealing your perky, young breasts to the cool air of the bedroom.

He took a moment to admire your inexperienced and vulnerable beauty before he began to trail kisses down your neck, across your chest, and onto your sensitive nipples.

"Oh God," you gasped, your hands clenching in his thick, dark hair as he teased you with his mouth.

"You like that, do you?" Thomas whispered, a wicked grin on his face.

The heat between your thighs became unbearable. You wanted him to do more, to touch you there, to do away with the last scraps of clothing that separated you from the man you married.

"Why don't you lie down for me, Love?" Thomas suggested, as he began to remove his own clothes.

You nodded eagerly, unable to find your voice in the intensity of the moment. Your breath hitched as you watched him undress. His muscled chest and chiseled abdomen were revealed to you as he shed his shirt, and your mouth went dry as he removed his trousers to stand proudly before you.

You laid back against the plush, velvet pillows, feeling self-conscious about your own nakedness in front of such a strong, confident man.

You noticed that his member stood tall and rigid, ready to claim you as his.

"Stop looking at my cock and lay back, Sweetheart," Thomas chuckled, sensing your discomfort. "I promise I won't hurt you," he then reassured you and you swallowed hard, nodding in compliance as you scooted further up on the bed.

Thomas followed, crawling up the bed with a seductive grace. He settled between your thighs and you trembled with anticipation.

"Open for me," Thomas whispered, his fingers lightly tracing your slick folds.

You whimpered at the sensation of his touch, your body tensing as he explored you intimately. Slowly, you obeyed his demand and allowed your legs to fall open. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but also safe in Thomas' arms, which held you with a protectiveness you needed in this new and uncertain moment.

"Good girl," Thomas praised, his fingers circling your clit with a tantalizing slowness. "You are already so nice and wet for me, eh?" Thomas whispered, a suggestive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as Thomas began to circle your clit with his thumb, all the while keeping his fingers buried inside of you.

"You are so beautiful Y/N. I am a lucky man," Thomas murmured, sensing your pleasure at his touch.

You nodded again, too caught up in the euphoria of the moment to find your voice.

Thomas began to thrust his fingers back and forth, his thumb continuing to rub your clit in slow, steady circles.

You threw your head back and moaned, your hips moving with a mind of their own. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting close to the edge.

"Let go for me, Love," Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let yourself go. I promise you'll enjoy it."

With those words, something inside of you snapped. You closed your eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

"That's it," Thomas murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "That's my good girl. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice thick with lust as he brushed a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath after the powerful release you had just experienced. You had never felt anything like that before and you couldn't believe how intensely Thomas had been able to make you feel.

"I love you Tommy ," you whispered, half-ashamed of the needy tone in your voice.

Thomas kissed you softly, his lips tasting of salt and lust. "I love you too, my wife," he said, before his hand started to wander down your body again.

His fingers found your wetness once more and he stroked you gently before, finally, climbing on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Love," Thomas whispered, his breath hot against your cheek as he teased your entrance with his tip.

"Please be gentle , Tommy," you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size and intensity of Thomas' manhood.

He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. "Of course, Sweetheart. I'll be as gentle as I can," he said and, with that, he slowly began to push himself inside of you.

You gasped at the initial pain and pressure of his penetration, clutching onto the sheets as he filled you up completely.

Thomas paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Are you alright, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you tried to relax and accommodate his girth.

"Yes, I'm okay," you assured him, and Thomas began to thrust in and out of you with slow, deliberate movements.

At first, it felt foreign and slightly painful, but as Thomas' rhythm gradually picked up speed, your discomfort gave way to a growing sense of pleasure and desire.

"You feel so good, Sweetheart," Thomas groaned, as he plunged deeper and deeper inside of you.

Your legs wrapped around Thomas' waist, drawing him closer still, as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

You had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to the precipice of climax.

You clung to Thomas, your fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his back as you moaned and gasped beneath him.

"Oh, God, Tommy," you panted, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. "I think I'm going to cum again."

Thomas' eyes blazed with a fierce hunger as he drove himself deeper inside of you, your bodies slapping together in a primal dance.

"That's right, Love. Cum for me," Thomas growled, his voice low and husky.

"I want to feel you tighten around me, Love. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you come."

With those filthy words, Thomas thrust deeper and harder into you, sending wave after wave of pulsating pleasure surging through your body.

"Yes, Tommy! Yes!" you screamed, your voice mingling with his deep, guttural grunts.

"Fuck, you feel so tight and warm. So fucking good," Thomas groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as he plunged into your depths again and again.

"Don't cum inside me ," you gasped, suddenly remembering a crucial detail as you had previously discussed that you were not yet ready to have children with him.

"I won't," Thomas groaned. "But I need to feel you a little longer. You just feel too good around my cock, Love," Thomas pleaded as he continued to drive himself in and out of you with wild, untamed passion.

You could feel another orgasm building within you, and you knew it would be powerful. You wanted to hold off for as long as possible, wanting to savor every exquisite sensation that Thomas was eliciting from your hyper-sensitive body.

But your pleasure took over and you succumbed to the tidal wave of ecstasy that washed over you. You screamed his name as you squeezed your thighs around his flexing hips.

"Good girl," Thomas panted in your ear, swirling his hips as he forced yet another powerful orgasm from your aching flesh. "So good. So, so fucking good."

You arched your back and collapsed against the bed, trembling beneath him as pain, pleasure, shame and wonderment coursed through your veins like liquid fire.

"Fuck, I am going to cum," Thomas groaned, the thickness of his cock throbbing within you before pulling out quickly and spraying sticky streaks of semen over your stomach, breasts, and bedsheets.

Both of you were breathing heavily as the room filled with the scent of your mutual pleasure, stocks damp with your fluids and mixed with the evidence of his release on your skin.

Neither of you spoke for a few moments, enjoying the quiet moment of contentment that came on the heels of such intense satisfaction.

Thomas broke the silence, removing evidence of his release from your body, as one would clean a precious piece of artwork after its masterpiece was finished.

"Did I hurt you, Love?" Thomas asked, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"No, I-I wanted that," you admitted, your body still shivering from the intense pleasure. "It was perfect," you told him, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly, recalling how long he wanted to do this.

Unbeknownst to you, he had been wanting you for many years and now, finally, you were his. His wife. His possession. His triumph.

Tags:

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x you #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #tommy shelby au #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine

608 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 10 days

Text

The Client (Rewritten)

Part Two: New Relationships

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (37) & Reader (35)

Note: In this fic Cillian is a lawyer, helping the reader after she becomes a victim of domestic abuse.

The following morning, at Cillian's offices, he had expected to see you at around 8 o'clock but, when only his friend Dermont arrived, he became worried.

"She said that she doesn't need your help," Dermont told him with concern. "She said that she can just go to Legal Aid," he added.

But Cillian knew better. He understood that, when it came to matters of domestic violence, Legal Aid was often underfunded and inexperienced.

"Legal Aid?" he thus asked and, seeing that your husband James was a seasoned and experienced solicitor himself, Cillian experienced a knot in his stomach. He knew the odds you were facing. "Fuck she is stubborn!" Cillian muttered, raking his hands through his tousled brown hair before reaching for his coat.

"Where are you going?" Janette, who had been sitting in the meeting, queried Cillian with a raised eyebrow. "You have a meeting with John O'Shea at 10," she reminded him, but Cillian was on a mission.

"Cancel it. I need to see Y/N," Cillian brushed Janette's warnings aside, not in the mood for corporatespeak as he was determined to make his way to the women's shelter on York in order to confront you. He knew that you needed his help and he would not take no for an answer.

"I will come with you, man," Dermont solidified solidarity, standing up from his chair and grabbing his leather jacket.

"There is no point, Dermont. They won't let you in," Cillian told his friend, knowing that visitors, other than legal counsel and attending psychologists, were not allowed on premises due to safety concerns.

"Do you think she will actually talk to you?" Dermont asked as they walked towards the elevator.

"She bloody well will when I tell her what's going to happen if she doesn't take this seriously," Cillian replied, his jaw set with determination. "When you told me who she is married to, my alarm bells went off and I am not surprised that she did not leave this bastard yet. He is a piece of work, and he is most certainly is good at what he does," Cillian explaining after having worked with James in the past and having an inside perspective on the man's ruthless behavior.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, and the two men entered. Cillian pressed the button for the parking garage, and the elevator began its descent in silence.

"Will she be safe?" Dermont queried Cillian with concern in his voice.

"I will make sure that she is," Cillian reassured Dermont, his tone firm.

The elevator doors opened, revealing the dimly lit parking garage. Cillian and Dermont walked towards Cillian's shiny black BMW. As Cillian unlocked the car, Dermont hesitated.

"You will need to wait in the car when we get there, okay?" Cillian told Dermont as they got in and fastened their seatbelts.

Dermont nodded silently and Cillian peeled out of the parking garage. About thirty minutes later , pulled up outside the women's shelter. He switched off the engine and took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead. He knew that you were unlikely to receive him well after how things had ended between you many years ago, but he was not prepared to back down.

He got out of the car, entered the shelter's front door, and approached the front desk. The receptionist looked up at him, her face a mask of polite indifference.

"I'm looking for Y/N Y/LN," Cillian maintained eye contact.

"And you are?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Cillian Murphy. I am her solicitor," he told the woman while showing her his bar membership card and drivers license, knowing that she would have to keep his details on file. The woman's eyes glanced over his documents before she nodded, clearly authorized to allow him through.

"Miss Y/LN is in apartment 302, on the third floor," she told him, pointing up the nearby staircase. "But let me warn you that she might not be in the mood for company. Her husband tried to make contact this morning and was advised to leave," she added, her tone laced with disapproval.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Cillian mumbled, turning towards the staircase. His heart was hammering in his chest as he climbed the stairs, suddenly feeling like a schoolboy again. It had been years since he had last seen you, and the memories still haunted him to this day.

He reached the third floor and found your apartment on the left-hand side. He paused for a moment, taking another deep breath before knocking on the door.

To his surprise, you answered almost immediately, your face painted with shock upon seeing him.

"Cillian? What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, your voice trembling as you crossed your arms over your chest. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung loosely over your body, and your hair was a mess of tangled curls. He could see the dark circles under your eyes and the bruise on your cheek, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Dermont saw me this morning and I came to talk to you," Cillian told you, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

"I don't want your help," you muttered, turning your head away. But Cillian could see the uncertainty in your eyes, and he knew that you were just as confused by your feelings as he was. "I told Dermont that I will go to Legal Aid," you told him, trying to assert yourself, but Cillian could hear the hesitance in your voice.

"Listen to me, Y/N," Cillian said, placing his hands on your shoulders and gently turning you to face him. "Legal Aid won't be able to take your husband on and you know that," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "You need someone who knows how to handle his type of mentality," he added, his gaze holding yours.

You could feel yourself being drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It was as if the years had melted away and you were once again that young girl who had fallen in love with him. You wanted to believe him, to trust him with your life. But you were also scared, terrified that history would repeat itself and you would be left with nothing but a broken heart and a shattered life.

You tried to push him away, but Cillian was not so easily swayed.

"Look at me, Y/N," Cillian whispered and your eyes met, and you could see the fire burning within them. "Let's just talk and then, if you still want to go to Legal Aid, I will even drive you there," he offered and you hesitated, your eyes searching his face for any sign of deception.

But all you could see was compassion and concern, and you felt yourself being drawn to him like a magnet. "Alright," you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you stepped aside and allowed him to enter.

The apartment was small and cramped, with only a single bedroom and a living room that doubled as a kitchen. The walls were bare and the furniture sparse, a testament to how quickly you had left your old life behind.

Cillian looked around, his gaze taking in the small space.

He could see the weight of your situation reflected in the empty walls and the sparse furniture, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I am a mess. Dermont took me here after I was discharged from hospital and James froze all of my accounts," you explained, and Cillian could see the hurt and shame etched on your face and he wanted to take it all away.

"Don't worry about all that now," Cillian murmured as he gestured to the small kitchen table, and you took a seat across from him.

Cillian then sat there in silence for a moment, looking at you as if he didn’t know what to say and, he probably didn’t. Perhaps he just wanted to be the person to tell you that everything will be okay. Perhaps he just wanted to be the person to comfort you. Or, perhaps, he just wanted to be the person to help you through your darkest times.

Eventually though, he began to talk and took you through the legal process slowly. He told you what the steps were, including obtaining an AVO, gaining financial support for you and requesting your husband to return your property to you, including your identification documents and mobile phone. He then reassured you that getting custody for your son would not be an issue given his age. He explained that, at 16, your son would decide who he wants to live with and this was a relief for you.

Then, finally, he mentioned divorce. Of course, with all of this, you needed to apply for divorce. It was inevitable and you couldn’t wait until you were free from this monster.

“First, let’s talk about the AVO and getting you some financial support from him. This seems to be the most urgent matter and I have already obtained and looked through the discharge report from the hospital. You lied to the nurses, and I am not going to ask you why. I am sure you had your reasons. But I am telling you that, the fact that you did, will make it more difficult for us to prove that you need protection,” Cillian then explained quite suddenly before giving you a reassuring look.

“So, I cannot get an AVO against him?” you asked a little confused.

“We will get you an AVO Y/N but, if he challenges it, we will need to get some more evidence together to prove that you do, in fact, need it,” Cillian explained before handing you a box of tissues as he could see that you were becoming emotional already.

“The bruises seem quite bad. How are you coping with them?” Cillian then asked and, whilst you knew that it wasn’t relevant to the case, you appreciated his gesture.

“I am okay," you confirmed reluctantly while trying to mask your true emotions and the pain you were still feeling.

"What about the baby you lost? The hospital report said that your miscarriage was caused by physical trauma," Cillian's voice cracked with emotion.

Tears filled your eyes at the mention of your loss. "It's my fault," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I should have left him a long time ago." Your thoughts trailed off to the brutal night that had left you traumatized and alone, your unborn child taken from you before you had even gotten the chance to hold them in your arms.

"Hey," Cillian's voice softened as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. "This isn't your fault, Y/N. You know that, right?"

You shook your head, your eyes filling with tears. "I can't help thinking that, if I had just been stronger, maybe he wouldn't have...," you stammered, leaving your sentence unfinished.

Cillian's heart broke at the sight of you in pain. "I am sorry," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. He reached over to wipe away your tears, his touch gentle and soothing. He longed to take away your pain and shield you from harm, but he knew that he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

“I need to ask you some more questions about the harm he caused,” Cillian eventually said after taking a deep sigh and you nodded your head, accepting the inevitable nature of the situation, although part of you desperately wished to avoid revisiting the most painful memories.

“Can you describe what happened that night? How did he cause you to lose the baby?” he asked, his voice giving away the slight grimace that crossed his features.

“We had an argument about the state of the house. He made me clean and clean and clean all over again and still wasn't satisfied. He then became aggressive. He wanted sex I think. I don't know. I can't remember. All I remember was the blows to my stomach when he hit me repeatedly until I blacked out," you choked out, your voice low and trembling. "I woke up in the hospital a few hours later. I was weak from the pain and exhausted through the trauma. The doctors told me that I had lost my baby."

A wave of sadness and anger washed over Cillian as you told him the harrowing details of that night.

“Has he ever hurt you like this before or was this the first time?” Cillian asked carefully, knowing that this may trigger you to become even more upset and emotional.

“Yes” you cried before getting into more detail for him.

“He has hurt me many times. He even raped me before and said that it wasn't rape because we are married. When I tried to leave him, he threatened me. He told me that if I dared to speak of what he did to me, he would kill me and no-one would ever find out," you choked out, your voice filled with pain and betrayal.

Cillian listened quietly, holding your hands firmly in his as you spoke. He could feel the rage building up inside of him as you told him about the horrors that you had endured at the hands of your husband.

"Y/N, I promise you that I will make sure that he pays for every single thing that he has done to you," he promised, his voice filled with conviction.

He knew that his words were not enough, but he wanted you to know that you were not alone in this. That he would be there for you every step of the way, no matter how difficult things got.

His anger towards James was palpable and it was clear that he was not going to let him get away with what he had done.

“I need to know, are there any records of prior injuries with other hospitals or medical centers?” he then asked carefully once you were able to calm back down and you nodded again.

“A year ago, I had severe burns and I saw my general practitioner to get some cream for them” you told Cillian with teary eyes, causing his chin to drop.

“Burns? Did he inflict them?” Cillian asked a little surprised.

“Yes, he did! When James found out that…uhm…I…I had an abortion about a year ago he…” you started to cry again, your resolve crumbling down slowly.

“Take your time Y/N” Cillian told you while reaching across the table and holding onto your hand, unbothered by the fact that you still held on to the wet tear-soaked tissue.

“He burned me,” you sobbed and Cillian’s grip on your hands tightened involuntarily at hearing about the harrowing pain that you went through. He wanted to strangle James for making you suffer like that but, instead, he took a moment to compose himself.

“How did he burn you?” Cillian asked and what he heard next made him sick to the stomach.

“He used the iron on me,” you choked out, your eyes glazing over as you were thrown right back into that dreadful moment in time.

Visions of that scalding hot iron being dragged down the length of your arm seared through your mind like it was happening all over again. You could smell the burning flesh and hear your own screams echoing through the house.

Cillian inhaled sharply, trying to contain the crossed wires running riot through his brain.rage, sympathy, passion, disgust.

He couldn't decide which emotion to settle for, so he let out a low growl of frustration instead.

"Fuck," Cillian swore loudly, dragging a hand through his thick shock of hair before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, cradling his head in his hands.

"Can you show me the burns?" Cillian asked softly, dropping his hands as he looked at you with eyes filled with concern.

You bit your bottom lip nervously, unsure of whether you should expose yourself to him. Nevertheless, you stood up and peeled back the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the pale white scars that marred your skin.

Cillian sucked in his breath, feeling a mix of anger and sadness wash over him. You flinched slightly, feeling self-conscious under his gaze.

Cillian, sensing your discomfort, quickly looked away, but not before he took a mental image of the faint lines that marked your skin.

"I am so sorry for everything that you've gone through," he murmured, his voice laced with anguish and fury. "No person deserves to be treated like this," he told you before asking you whether you would be willing to undergo a medical examination for evidence.

The thought of allowing someone else to examine your battered body repulsed you, but you gave Cillian your consent, knowing full well that it was necessary for your case.

"I will arrange an appointment for you with one of the centers on Callum Street. They specialize in these types of cases and the medical examiner there is an old colleague of mine," Cillian told you, his voice steady and reassuring.

As you agreed to the appointment, Cillian checked his watch and realized that it was already almost noon.

"Have you eaten anything today?" he asked you, noticing your thin frame and the dark shadows under your eyes.

You shook your head no, causing Cillian to frown.

"Let's grab a bite then and have a break. Your brother has been sitting in my car for a few hours now and is probably bored," Cillian suggested as he rose from his chair.

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "I can't really afford to go out for lunch Cillian," you said, feeling embarrassed to admit that you had no money to spend on luxuries like that.

Cillian's eyebrows pulled together with concern. "That's not a problem, Y/N, I'm happy to buy," he said. "Come on, let's take a break and this afternoon we will work on getting your statements ready for the AVO and the claims against James," he reassured you before guiding you out of the apartment.

You walked down the hallway and descended the stairs. Cillian led you to his car where your brother was waiting.

Dermont's face lit up as soon as he saw you. "How are you holding up?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm alright," you replied, giving him a weak smile.

"Shall we go and grab some lunch then?" Cillian interrupted, eager to allow you to distract yourself.

"I know this great little cafe just down the road. They have the best paninis in Dublin, trust me, I practically live there," he joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere and Dermont chuckled politely and opened the car door, allowing you to slide in shotgun.

As they drove down the busy streets of Dublin, your nerves subsided and the three of you engaged in lighthearted banter, speaking about everything apart from James. For the first time in months, you laughed wholeheartedly and felt your worries melt away, if only for a short while.

You glanced over at Cillian and caught him staring at you, his piercing blue eyes softening as they met yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and you quickly turned away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Cillian's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he too turned away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

The car ride was short, and before you knew it, they arrived at the cafe. Cillian parked the car and the three of you made your way inside.

Despite the bustling lunchtime crowd, Cillian somehow managed to secure a cozy corner booth for the three of you, complete with plush cushions and a view of the bustling Dublin Street outside.

You settled into the booth, letting out a sigh of relief as your body relaxed into the comfortable seat. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt this safe, this protected. It was as if Cillian and Dermont were your personal bodyguards, shielding you from the dangers of the outside world.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards them both, their presence a comforting balm to your troubled soul.

After finishing your lunch, the three of you decided to head back to Cillian's office to continue working on your case which pretty much took all afternoon, following which Cillian sent an application to both, the police and the courts, to get your matter started.

Once this was done, Cillian drove you back to the shelter and dropped you off, promising to pick you up early the following morning to begin preparations for the next few days to get the interim orders drawn up, but just as you stepped out of the car, you noticed something strange.

There was a black sedan parked in front of the shelter with two men sitting inside. As you watched, one of the men pulled out a cell phone, while the other kept a watchful eye on the entrance.

Thinking nothing much of it, you turned back to Cillian, who was still seated in the driver's seat. "See you tomorrow, Cillian," you said with a slight smile before calling it a night.

"See you tomorrow Y/N," he told you before, finally, driving off.

Tags:

#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

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queenshelby · 10 days

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part 32: Arrest

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Without giving it a second thought, Cillian sought out his son who he knew was at university that day , planning on confronting him about it. His gut feeling told him that Max had something to do with the charge and, as he drove to university, the erratic beat of the rain drummed furiously against the roof of the car, matching the thundering of his own heart. Anxiety and anger built inside him as a thousand different scenarios played out in his head.

What his gut feeling failed to foresee however is that Max had, just as always, been manipulated by his mother who, according to Max himself, had been using the car for the past few weeks.

"Dad, what is going on?" he wanted to know , his eyes narrowing in suspicion, his body language stiff and defensive as his father stood in front of him, questioning him.

"Mum said that her card had been stolen and I figured that you wouldn't mind if she used yours. She was just going to get some groceries and you had her other accounts blocked, so I just gave it to her and told her to be reasonable, you know," Max explained after Cillian had confronted him about the charges in Chelsea. "And you know that I don't have a license at the moment, so I am not going to drive a brand-new car. Mum has been using it for weeks. She fucking paid for it, so why not," Max continued, his eyes wide and innocent, completely unaware of the betrayal that his mother had committed.

Cillian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, frustration building up in his chest. "Max, this is serious. Are you sure she's been using the car all this time?" Cillian told his son, his voice heavy with disappointment and anger.

"Yes, dad! She has been in London for ages now. She didn't want me to tell you because of all that has been happening and since I didn't talk to you for weeks anyway, I didn't think it was an odd request," Max stated, still looking at his father with wide, innocent eyes, completely oblivious to the impact his words had on him.

Cillian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers again. He felt like he was being pulled in every direction, unable to find solid ground, unable to make sense of the senseless situation.

"Max, we need to talk. And then we need to go to the police, together!" Cillian announced, determination shining in his sharp blue eyes as he processed the sudden turn of events.

Max frowned, hesitating for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

"To the police? Why?" Max asked, surprise lacing his words as he glanced nervously at his father.

Cillian turned to his son, meeting his eyes, the gravity of the situation heavy in his gaze.

"I think that your mother has been stalking Y/N and I think that she was responsible for the accident," Cillian explained quietly, donning a serious expression that Max had never seen before.

Max shook his head, confusion drawing his brows together. "Mum wouldn't do this kind of thing, dad!" he denied, his voice trembling ever so slightly, with a hint of disbelief lingering behind each word that left his mouth.

But Cillian disagreed, his mind set on revealing the truth about Danielle's actions. "Max, listen to me," Cillian tried but Max cut him off.

"No! I won't listen to you say these things about her! Mum is a good person, she would never hurt anyone," Max insisted, anger and panic bubbling inside him. He couldn't believe what his father was suggesting. Danielle was his mother, his rock, his safe haven. She was the one person he could always rely on, the one person who had always been there for him, no matter what. The idea that she could be capable of such a heinous act was unfathomable.

"Max, your mother has been trying to trap me in this marriage for a long time and when that didn't work for her anymore and I filed for divorce, she started targeting Y/N. I know it sounds far-fetched, but you have to trust me on this," Cillian pleaded, grasping for straws.

Max sneered, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at his father. "How convenient. You're blaming her now that you've found yourself someone else," Max exclaimed accusingly.

"Y/N told me about the car following her, Max. I checked and it is the same make and model your mother bought for you," Cillian retorted, trying to break through Max's resistance.

"Y/N is probably lying to get rid of mum because of you. Because she doesn't want the baggage that comes with having an ex-wife and all," Max declared, frustration and protectiveness coursing through him.

Cillian sighed, trying to keep his patience in check. "Look, Max. I know it's hard to accept but we have to face the facts. Your mother has become increasingly unstable over the past few months and her behavior has become increasingly erratic. Believe me, I wish it wasn't the case, but I am worried, not only about Y/N's safety, but also yours," Cillian assured Max, who looked away, unable to meet his father's gaze.

"So you are trying to get mum locked up? Is that it?" Max asked finally, his eyes focused on anything but his father.

Cillian reached out to put a reassuring hand on Max's shoulder, but he recoiled at the touch. Cillian sighed and dropped his arm to his side.

"No Max, I am trying to get her the help she needs while, at the same time, making sure that Y/N and you are safe!" Cillian replied emphatically, frustration creeping into his voice as he raised his hands in a helpless gesture. "I know it's hard for you to hear this, but we can't ignore it anymore."

Max sighed, his shoulders slumping as he finally conceded defeat. "You ruined everything by getting involved with Y/N! So, I hope you are happy, dad!" Max spat, disgust heavy in his voice, and Cillian's heart ached. He hated that their relationship had come to this, but he couldn't stand by and do nothing while Danielle's erratic behavior continued.

"Max, I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to hurt you or your mother," Cillian whispered, his voice thick with regret. "But I can't deny my feelings for Y/N either. I'm sorry."

Max shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I don't want to hear it," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "Just fucking go!"

Cillian sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay. I will leave," Cillian conceded but Max was beyond reasoning at this point. He had made up his mind, and there was no changing it. "I hate you," he muttered, turning on his heel and storming off.

Cillian watched him go, his heart heavy with sadness, regret and uncertainty.

"Max," he called after him. "Max, please, don't leave like this."

But Max did not look back. Instead, he quickened his pace, disappearing around a corner, leaving Cillian standing alone, the cool wind biting at his exposed skin, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

As he stared at the empty space where his son had just been, he knew that he had to press on. For Y/N, for Max. For himself.

With that in mind, he made his way to the station , determination fueling his steps. He needed to speak to the detective in charge of the case, to share his suspicions, to point out the inconsistencies, to expose the danger that Danielle posed and to plea for their protection.

Upon arriving at the station, Cillian was greeted with a flurry of activity. Police officers rushed back and forth, the buzz of their radios and their hushed conversations filling the air, creating an almost suffocating level of tension. He approached the front desk, a pleasant-looking woman greeted him, inquiring how she could assist.

He explained why he had come, and after a brief moment of discussion, the receptionist summoned the investigator responsible for your case and it was then and there that an arrest warrant against Danielle had been issued.

Tags:

#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x you

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queenshelby · 10 days

Text

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part sEVEN: Mother

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

After thinking about Cillian all night, on the following morning, at around 9 o'clock, on your day off from work, you found yourself sitting in your favorite coffee shop, sipping a cup of coffee and skimming through some legal theory, desperately attempting to focus on the work at hand.

However, try as you might, you couldn't shake Cillian's face and the worry lines that creased his forehead from your mind, prompting you to do the polite thing and check on him. After all, he had taken quite a beating for you and, if anything, you considered it necessary to at least make some form of contact or another to ensure that he was recovering.

In addition, you felt the need to talk to him, to get your stories straight as, during last night's incident, a lot of students and bystanders saw what could be perceived as inappropriate behavior between a teacher and a student.

Thus, as you sipped your lukewarm coffee, you contemplated driving to his house in Douglas to see how he was doing. Being his teacher and all, you did not consider this to be inappropriate, but rather considerate in light of what had occurred.

As you arrived at Cillian's house, which was a stunning but modest three-bedroom residence, you felt butterflies churning in your stomach, wondering how he was doing and if you were overstepping any boundaries. But nonetheless, you screwed up your courage and knocked on the heavy wooden door.

After a moment's hesitation, you heard a young woman's muffled voice call out, "Coming!" and the door swung open to reveal a young girl, no older than 15, standing there in a pair of worn-out jeans and a tank top. She looked at you curiously. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Um, yes, hi," you smiled at her nervously. "I'm actually here to see Cillian. Is he home?"

The girl's expression softened. "I think he is still asleep. Hang on," the young girl said before calling out his name. "Cillian! There is someone here to see you!" she shouted , cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice while his brother Paddy scooted past with a bowl of cereal in his hands.

"Oh hey, the law school teacher," Paddy greeted, nodding in your direction. "Cills is still passed out in bed," he told you and you quickly glanced at your watch, seeing that it was almost 11 o'clock. "Maybe I should come back another time," you suggested politely before explaining to Paddy that you just came to check on him.

"No no, wait, I'll go wake him up," Paddy said, before disappearing behind a closed door, leaving you to wait patiently in the hallway and, minutes later, Cillian appeared.

His hair was tousled, and his eyes were half-closed, still adjusting to the brightness of the hallway. "Y/N?" he murmured, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "I mean, Miss Y/LN," he corrected himself and even despite his slightly disheveled appearance, Cillian managed to look incredibly attractive, causing your heart to race a little faster than usual.

He wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a worn our Frank Zappa t-shirt, accompaied by a pair of grandfather slippers.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, scrubbing his hand over his face, and trying to mask his surprise.

"I just wanted to check on you," you told him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as his eyes locked on yours. "I hope I didn't wake you up," you added nervously.

Cillian blinked and shook his head. "No, no, it's fine," he murmured, taking a step closer to you. "I'm just surprised to see you here," he told you, silently inviting you into his home.

"No, I won't come in. I just wanted to make sure you are okay after last night's events, you know," you replied, trying to keep things professional despite the intimate scenario.

Cillian nodded, understanding your apprehension. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little bruised and sore," he said, gesturing towards his face. "But I'll live."

"Good. That's good," you responded, smiling softly at him. "And listen, Cillian, I can't pretend that last night didn't happen. People saw us together, some might assume that there's something inappropriate going on between us. We need to establish a clear boundary, to clarify some facts," you explained, your voice steady and calm, belaying the turmoil that bubbled within you as you spoke quietly so that no one else could hear you.

Cillian nodded solemnly. "Relax. If someone asks, I will tell them that I just did the right thing, you know, looking after my professor in a time of distress," Cillian assured you, his voice carrying a sense of sincerity and conviction. Despite your efforts to maintain a professional demeanor, a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth at Cillian's earnestness.

"Thanks Cillian, I appreciate that. Honestly, I do," you replied, trying to put your thoughts into words just as you saw Cillian's mother walk into the house through the backdoor. She carried a bag of groceries in her hand, eying you curiously for a second before a warm smile lit up her face.

"Oh hello there, dear," she greeted kindly as she walked towards Cillian, setting the groceries down on the kitchen counter and greeting him with a spontaneous hug and kiss, causing Cillian to blush. "Good morning sleepyhead," she told him affectionately as she ruffled his hair.

"Mum, this is my law school professor, Miss Y/LN," Cillian introduced, gesturing towards you still standing in the hallway, keep watching the wholesome interaction between mother and son with a small chuckle.

"Oh, what a pleasure to meet you," she said, walking up to you with her hand extended, which you shook politely. "I hope my boy isn't in trouble," she added, casting a concerned glance towards Cillian, who shook his head quickly.

"No, Mum, I promise. I just had a bit of a run-in with someone at the pub last night," Cillian explained hurriedly, avoiding eye contact with his mother.

"Well, I'm glad you're safe, dear.

No harm done, I hope?" Cillian's mother asked, her gaze shifting between Cillian and you.

"No, ma'am, everything is fine. I just stopped by to check on Cillian after that incident last night. He helped me out when I got in trouble, so I just came by to thank him and to make sure he was doing okay," you replied, feeling a pang of guilt for worrying his mother.

"Oh, that. Yes, Cillian mentioned something about it. Terrible, isn't it?" she said, before turning her attention back to Cillian. "I am glad that nothing worse happened. You never know these days . There are so many bad people out there," Cillian's mother said, shaking her head in dismay.

"Yes, unfortunately, that's true," you agree, feeling a sense of sadness wash over you. Despite the initial reason for your visit, you cannot help but be drawn into the homey atmosphere that Cillian's family exudes.

"Well, I best be off. I have a lot of work to catch up on," you announce, reluctantly tearing yourself away from the scene before you.

"Don't you want to stay for a cup of tea?" Cillian's mother invited warmly, her voice full of kindness.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between your responsibilities and the desire to spend more time in this cozy environment. "I really should get going," you said, with a hint of regret in your voice. You turned to Cillian, "But thank you again for last night. I won't forget it."

Cillian smiled, a twinkle of appreciation in his eyes.

"I am sure he won't either," Paddy chuckled as he overheard the tail end of the conversation, causing Cillian to mumble the words "ejiit" under his breath.

"Well, I should be heading off then," you announced, eager to leave before the conversation turned uncomfortable.

"Thanks again for stopping by, Miss Y/LN," Cillian called out as you made your way down the path towards your car.

"No problem, Cillian," you replied, throwing a final wave over your shoulder.

As you drove away, your thoughts turned to Cillian and the uneasy feelings that surfaced as a result of the incident.

Tags:

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

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queenshelby · 10 days

Text

Who’s ready for a very very dark Tommy Series??? And I don’t just mean in the smutty way 😇

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader

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queenshelby · 10 days

Text

Yes I’ve got a thing for this man’s chest hair 😝

#cillian murphy

136 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 10 days

Text

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Six: Green Genes

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Several days had passed until Thursday finally came around and, to you, it seemed as though, for the past few days, Cillian tried to make a point to be seen by you with Siobhan. It felt as if each time you set foot in the school building, there they were - sitting in the same corner spot, hands intertwined on top of the table. He was always sending mixed signals in class, sneaking glances at you as if bursting with secrets – secret encounters, conversations, stolen kisses; whereas, afterwards, he was always quick to walk by Siobhan's side.

Watching him kiss her goodbye and whisper sweet nothings into her ear fueled your innate jealousy – fueling a burning sensation in your chest, an anger that pricked at the back of your neck.

The sensations, admittedly, were concerning – confusing even, because this wasn't the type of feeling you expected to experience. You felt disgusted at the thought of being so attached to, possessive of someone who, only a week ago, knew little more than your first name.

Yet here you were – fixated on these particular glimpses of the boy, each slightly more intimate than the last and, by the time he entered the lecture room for his tutoring session, you were almost vibrating with apprehension and the desperate need to sort through your tangled emotions.

Silence enveloped the room as you awaited the arrival of your student, and each second stretched into an eternity, further fraying your nerves. When you finally heard light footsteps coming from the hall outside, you glanced up to meet a pair of deep-blue eyes that pierced right through you, paralyzing your breath within your lungs.

"Hey," Cillian murmured, resting his knapsack onto his chair and directing an intense gaze toward you; a gaze that seemed to ignite a fire in the pit of your stomach.

"You are late ," you replied, your voice thicker than intended, and glanced back at your notes, attempting to ignore the flush spreading across your cheeks and the rapid beating of your own heart.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," Cillian's husky voice reverberated through the almost-empty room, and you couldn't help but notice how flushed his forehead remained.

"It's fine ," you sighed and averted your gaze, your thoughts ensnared between the apparent sexual tension between you and the of frustration building up within you. This boy was your student, and you were his professor, yet the boundary between teacher and pupil had grown thin.

As you glanced at Cillian, your eyes met his, and the sheer intensity in them evoked something within you-an urge to explore their depths until quenched, to satisfy your hunger.

"Now tell me, did you do the prescribed reading for the cases I have given you?" you asked coolly, trying to mask your tumultuous feelings. Cillian hesitated, shuffling his documents awkwardly.

"Well, most of it," he confessed, averting his gaze. "There was just so much material, and I had some assignments to prioritize," he added defensively.

Your irritation grew. Not only could you not fathom the idea of succumbing to this boy's sweet temptation, but you also resented his most recent lackadaisical attitude towards your class.

"You had assignments to prioritize?" you heard yourself repeat, incredulous. "Cillian, if I didn't know any better, I would assume that you are not taking this course seriously anymore after what happened between us. You haven't engaged in class all week and now-, " you began to say just as Cillian interrupted you.

Cillian looked up, startled. "No, I am taking it seriously Y/N," he assured you, inadvertently calling you by his first name. "It's just that-well-there's a lot going on right now. Personal stuff, you know."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "You mean you have a girlfriend now, so your studies are less important?" you asked, unable to fully conceal the jealousy in your voice and this was something Cillian picked up on right away.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

The words hung in the air, and you felt your face grow hot. "Of course not," you lied, trying to remain calm and collected. "I'm just, you know, never mind," you stammered, and Cillian looked at you skeptically, as if he could sense the lie behind your words.

"So you are not jealous of me dating Siobhan?" he questioned you further, biting his lower lip playfully. His tone was flirtatious, baiting you towards losing your composure and giving away your true feelings.

However, your years of experience as a lawyer had taught you how to navigate delicate situations without losing your edge. Therefore, you responded to Cillian calmly, remaining composed.

"No Cillian, I am not jealous of your girlfriend. I am just concerned that your personal affairs will compromise your academic performance," you said plainly, avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled quietly, seemingly amused by your response. "Alright , if you say so." His voice carried an undertone of skepticism, and the way he looked at you made it clear that he didn't quite believe you.

Cillian let the topic drop, and the rest of the tutoring session went smoothly, with the two of you discussing legal concepts and case studies. Yet, even as you delved into complex intellectual discussions, you couldn't help but feel a persistent burn of jealousy in the back of your mind.

You pushed that pang of jealousy aside once more , focusing on the topic at hand.

Finally, the tutoring session ended, and Cillian packed up his belongings, offering a small, cryptic smile as he left the room.

That smirk ignited a spark in your mind, causing you to question his motives and intentions. But Cillian had left already, and you had no choice but to bury your thoughts for the time being.

***

The following day, after work, you were invited to meet up with a gathering of colleagues for drinks - the type of event you generally avoided. You disliked the cliquish environment and superficial banter. Still, tonight you found yourself agreeing to join them. Perhaps, you subconsciously sought some form of distraction; which always seemed in short supply recently.

The topics discussed over drinks however were far from interesting for you. Thus, after having listened to their recounts of court victories, academia bragging and tedious office gossip, you decided that it was best to step outside and call it a night.

The cold abruptly slammed against your skin, but the crisp air felt invigorating as you pulled out your Nokia to call a taxi home just as, out of the blue, you received a text message from your best friend Emma who was looking to catch up later that evening.

"Two for one drinks at Soho. Live Music. 9pm." was all Emma's message read, and although the idea of more socializing sounded exhausting, you also knew that a couple of drinks with your best friend might be exactly what you needed to take your mind off things.

You sent a quick reply and made your way to the small little bar in Cork where, much to your surprise, there was quite a crowd of young students.

"What is going on here?" you asked Emma who stood there, by the door, already nursing a drink.

"Some band's last gig, I think. Although, from what I have heard, they haven't played together for months," Emma shrugged her shoulders, gesturing towards the stage where a group of young musicians were setting up their equipment.

You glanced at them curiously and, sure enough, you spotted a familiar face on stage.

"Oh Jesus," you muttered under your breath, recognizing one of the guitarists and vocalists as none other than Cillian, his eyes closed tightly in concentration as he tuned his guitar.

Emma cast you a puzzled glance, suspicion forming in the furrow of her brow. "Do you know them?" she asked, and you hesitated, struggling with how to explain your connection to Cillian without divulging the drama that had unfurled between you two.

"Um, sort of. One of them is a student of mine," you finally settled on, which was technically true.

"Which one?" Emma's interest was piqued, and she looked over towards the stage with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

"The one on the guitar, wearing a black t-shirt. His name is Cillian," you answered, feeling a bit self-conscious as you said his name out loud.

"He's quite a good-looking kid," Emma remarked and you cringed at the fact that your best friend had just referred to the man you slept with as if he was a child.

Before you could protest however, the band began to play, and Cillian's voice rang out, strong and melodic. You couldn't help but watch him, his movements fluid and graceful as he strummed the guitar, his lips curving into a soft smile as he sang.

He seemed to enjoy the stage and had a presence there which not many people possessed.

"He sure is talented," you murmured to yourself , impressed by his abilities and, luckily for you, Emma did not hear you above the music this time.

The sound was electric, and the crowd moved closer to the stage as Cillian and his band continued playing. Their energy was captivating, filling the room with an intoxicating mix of anticipation and excitement. The night grew young, and the alcohol coursed through your veins, making it harder to resist the sway of his voice, your body moving instinctively along with the rhythm which is when you and Emma made some rather drunk acquaintances.

Emma, in her natural charismatic state, struck up a conversation with two young men – both of whom appeared quite taken with her charms, and as you observed them interact, you found yourself unable to help but feel ever-so slightly pleased by the notion. Not because you despised Emma nor her company, but rather because it provided you with a welcome reprieve from the uncomfortable thoughts and feelings that had been consuming you for the past few days.

One of the men, named Jason, started talking to you, complimenting you. He was tall, blonde and handsome, and under normal circumstances, you would find him attractive. But somehow, your mind kept wandering back to Cillian on stage, his instrument in his hands, and the way the music flowed from him as if it was an extension of himself.

Jason noticed your distracted behavior and leaned in, whispering suggestive comments in your ear. The alcohol in your system made you feel bold, and you entertained the idea of going home with him, using it as a way to distract yourself from Cillian. But you also knew to be better than that. This was not your style and, much to your dislike and discomfort, when the music came to an end, the blonde stranger made a move on you.

He leaned in, invading your personal space and wrapping an arm around your waist in a possessive manner, attempting to plant a kiss on your lips. However, you quickly pushed him away, exclaiming, "No, thank you," as you gathered your bearings, removing the stranger's arm from your waist.

Your actions caught the attention of several patrons, but the stranger seemed unfazed, continuing to proposition you.

"She said no, dude," Emma intervened firmly, placing a hand on the man's chest and, even though the admirer took Emma's message as a warning, he still refused to relent.

"Oh come on , don't be like that," he persisted, his words slurring together as he continued to advance towards you, expecting a different answer from you this time.

"Listen, I am really not interested , okay? So just please leave me alone." Your voice was firm and clear, despite the hint of irritation seeping through, and you couldn't help but notice Cillian observing the scene from the stage, concern etched onto his face.

He had spotted you just moments earlier when you drew some unwanted attention towards you, arguing with the stranger and it was now that, for the stranger, in rejection stung and, in an attempt to regain control, the man grabbed your arm, pulling you in close. "Come on. Just give me a chance," he hissed, leering down at you.

But before he could pull you any closer, a sudden flurry of movement caught everyone's attention: Cillian, having jumped off the stage, strode purposefully towards you with a determined look on his face.

In one swift motion, he pried the stranger's hand off of you, pushing him roughly away. "Back off, man!" Cillian snarled, protectively placing himself between you and the aggressor. "She doesn't want you to touch her!" he told the much older man , whose eyes widened in shock as he looked at Cillian with disbelief.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what she wants?" the man sneered, puffing his chest out as if he was trying to assert his dominance over Cillian.

Cillian's gaze did not waver, and he held his ground, standing protectively in front of me. "That's none of your business," he retorted, his voice low and firm. "Just leave her alone and find someone else to bother."

The stranger's face contorted in anger, and he took a threatening step forward and, without warning, leashed out at Cillian with his fist, hitting his face.

"Oh my god!" you and Emma gasped at the same time, but Cillian didn't budge. Instead, he clenched his jaw and threw a punch back, hitting the stranger's nose.

"Stop it," you yelled, trying to pull the stranger away from Cillian as the two continued to tussle, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar as they watched the scene unfold before them. Emma, trying to act as a voice of reason, pleaded with the stranger as well, to which he just thrown a dismissive glower and puffed up his chest in defiance.

Cillian's nose was bleeding and the stranger's jaw was turning blue already as, finally, the security guard intervened .

"Hey! Hey! That's enough!" The bouncer loudly shouted, stepping between the two men, and separating them. "Break it up, now! BOTH of you, outta here!"

With the fight broken up, Cillian retreated to your side, his eyes locked on yours, but you couldn't hold his gaze for long. The adrenaline was wearing off, and embarrassment flooding through you, having caused such a scene.

"God, I am so sorry," Cillian apologized, concern evident in his voice.

"Did he hurt you? Are you alright?" he gently reached out to touch your cheek, and you flinched at his touch, a silent reminder of the events that just transpired.

"I'm fine, Cillian," you assured him while Emma handed you a pile of napkins. "But you are not. Your nose is bleeding," you pointed out, concern lacing your voice as you stared at the blood trickling down his face.

"Oh, that's nothing new," he waved off your concerns, trying to downplay the severity of his injury. "It's been broken a couple of times before," he winked, revealing the slight grin, and you couldn't help but stare at cheerful expression of a person who had just been engaged in a physical altercation, and yet stood there, as charming as ever.

"Come on, let me clean this up for you," you told him firmly, leading him to the bathroom, despite the lingering embarrassment trickling from your every pore and, despite all that had transpired, Emma couldn't help but chuckle.

The bar's washroom was tiny, hidden late at night like this, most booths were occupied - users smoking in secrecy or friends freshening up after a drink or even two. It smelled of sweat and cheap perfume, and the harsh light cast shadows across the grimy mirrors.

But despite its poor condition, the sink was thankfully empty as you wet a handful of paper towels, pressing them against Cillian's wound.

"We are in the girls' toilet Y/N," Cillian stated as his blue eyes smiled at you.

This instructive observation did very little to pacify the raging tempest that subsumed your senses as you looked back at him. "No shit, Sherlock," you retorted sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "Now hold still," you ordered, pressing the makeshift compress gently against the bridge of his nose.

Cillian complied, scrutinizing you closely beneath the dim light of the bathroom's fixture as you attended to his wound. Despite the tense situation, a certain warmth spread throughout your core, reciprocated on his end as his gaze deepened and softened.

"You shouldn't have intervened," you found yourself whispering to your student, clinching the napkins more rigorously over his injury lest the emotion stuck in your throat escaped audibly.

Dismissing your words, Cillian gestured carelessly with his free hand as he reassured you, "But I couldn't just stand there and do nothing," he said as regret clouded his features, and the gravity of the consequences of his impulse weighed upon his conscience.

"Well, thank you," you finally offered him, grudgingly, as you finished tending to his injury. The sincerity in his deep blue eyes forced down your prim hostility. "I really am grateful for what you did." However, you still struggled with the irrational, nagging feeling of embarrassment that remained lodged in your throat, gripping you and refusing to let go, unwilling to exhale the frustrations which consistently surfaces whenever you were near Cillian.

The atmosphere inside the small, dimly lit bathroom had undoubtedly changed and, if it wasn't for Cillian's brother Paddy barging in unexpectedly to check in on the two of you, you may have gotten sidetracked by the young man that insisted on ignoring the unspoken boundaries between professors and students.

"Come on Cills. Time to go. The bouncer wants you out of here," Paddy said, looking between Cillian and you. There was a stern expression on his face, and his glare led you to believe that any argument from either Cillian or you would go ignored.

A bit reluctantly, you both nodded your agreement before, with careful treads, you made your way back towards your friends - Emma appearing absolutely mesmerized.

"Holy crap. I can't believe what just happened," Emma exclaimed, eyes wide with astonishment and, as she remained quiet, which was something that Emma rarely did, you finally allowed the tension to seep from your body, feeling your posture start to relax, and the weight of the past few hours lifting.

"Is he okay?" she eventually asked while Cillian and Paddy sneaked out, waving at you contently.

"Yes, I don't think his nose is broken," you told her and she laughed a little, that surprising tinkling sound that came unexpectedly.

"What a crazy night. But honestly, I'm glad I got to witness it," she concluded and her line of sight moved back to Cillian who just left. She then raised her brows at you, obviously intrigued by your young and mysterious protector.

"He seems to really care about you, Y/N. And he probably has a little crush on you too," she murmured thoughtfully, watching him disappear into the crowd.

"Don't be silly, Em. He is just a student. Nothing more , nothing less," you replied dismissively, taking a large sip of your drink.

Despite your words, Emma shot you a knowing look, her eyes gleaming with mischief and suspicion. "Sure, if you say so," she said with a wink.

"Anyways, let's get going. I think we've had enough excitement for one night," you suggested, eager to end the conversation and avoid further speculation about your relationship with Cillian.

***

Meanwhile, as Paddy drove him and his brother home, Paddy too ought to address the elephant in the room. "So, you wanna tell me what's going on between you and that woman at the pub?" Paddy asked, peering at Cillian from the driver's seat.

Cillian sighed deeply, running his fingers through his unruly locks. His clenched fists squeezed the denim of his jeans, drawing his knuckles white. "I have no frigging clue what you are talking about, Pad," he admitted truthfully. "She's my law school professor, and that's it."

However, as Cillian defended himself, Paddy only raised an eyebrow at his older brother, doubting the legitimacy of his claims.

Paddy turned onto their street, pulling the car up to their modest home and switching off the engines while continuing their conversation. "Cills, you and I both know that's never 'it' with you. Every woman you show interest in turns into a complicated fucking mess and you are clearly interested in her. So, I'll ask again. What's going on with you and this particular woman?" Paddy questioned seriously.

Cillian remained silent for a few moments, staring out the window into the darkness beyond. He knew his brother was right, as much as he despised admitting it.

"I don't know, Pad," Cillian finally replied, turning his gaze back to his brother. "We kinda hooked up once and things just got complicated now," he trailed off, leaving the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Paddy raised his eyebrows, surprised by the revelation. "Wow, okay," he said, pausing for a moment to let the news settle. "You actually slept with your fucking teacher?" Paddy finally burst out, incredulously. "I mean, she is super hot, but Jesus man. You do realize that's a whole piss pot of trouble, right?"

Cillian frowned. "Of course, I know that, Pad," he replied, sinking lower in his seat. "But it was the best sex I've ever had and I really fucking like her, you know ? I can't help it."

Paddy shook his head, letting out a low whistle. "Fuck bro , I don't even know what to say to that," he admitted, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Look, I'm gonna level with you here, Cills. I know you've been struggling lately, and I think you need to focus on your future. Getting involved with your teacher isn't going to help with that."

Cillian sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. "I know, I know," he agreed. "But it's not that simple, Pad. I don't even want to be at fucking law school. I hate it and she just makes it a little more interesting," Cillian admitted to his brother , feeling a stab of guilt at the thought of disappointing his family.

Tags:

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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