#Peaky blinders reader insert

[pacifymebby]

You’re imagines are so good! Love the character accuracy. Imagine the peaky blinders boys having a s/o who is super into self care, and wants to pamper them as well. Like skin care, body/scalp massages, baths, etc.

This is so cute i love it, i did it as kind of modern au centered because i feel like self care is probably way more varied now than it used to be?

Tommy

🌿I feel like he looks after himself and isn't going to be as opposed to this as you might expect a bloody-minded toxic masculinity gangster to be.

🌿Especially not the candlelit baths, the back rubs and anything else which involves close physical contact with you...

🌿Both 20s Tommy and Modern! Tommy are very serious men, their brain is always set in overdrive, his thoughts buzzing and whirring like a broken machine at all hours. He never switches off and you worry about him.

🌿"Ain't good for you Tommy, you're always lost inside your own head... Driving yourself crazy, you need to switch off every now and then... Let me help you..."

🌿 You know exactly the tone to take to get him to leave his work and come to you, oh so slightly suggestive, tempting... And when it comes to you Tommy doesnt have much resistance...

🌿You probably have a really fancy bathroom with a sunken in tub, jacuzzi jets and all, which Tommy had built for you but which you always intended on sharing with him. I'm picturing this but with more house plants, more candles...

🌿 You put his favourite record on and soak in the tub with him, he holds you in his lap, definitely tries to take the vibe somewhere else

🌿But you are determined that this is going to be more than just a steamy afternoon of shower sex... You promised to help him relax and you're going to.

🌿 "Oh angel no... I don't need that..." he says when you present him with a facemask, its a sheet mask and he just looks at you all "we look like something out of a horror movie y/n" "yes but its going to make your skin feel heavenly..." "already heavenly love..." he smirks making you smile a little embarassed. "Well yeah, I mean you are..." you start but he just shakes his head, "was talking about you angel..."

🌿Tommys been through a lot and has a lot of pent up stress stored in his muscles, he doesn't realise quite how much trauma he's holding in his body until he starts to relax, and when he realises everything he's carrying with me, all these emotions he shuts out to survive, he panics a bit... He can't let himself unwind completely or he's sure he'll fall apart.

🌿So he tries to make up excuses to cut short your pamper session, standing up to get out of the bath, taking his face mask off with some excuse about having an important call that needs to be made...

🌿You're not stupid though, you know what he's doing and so with one puppy dog eye look at him, you beg him to stay just a little longer. And he can't say no to you when you look at him like that so he returns to you.

🌿You wash his hair and massage his head, you tell him to close his eyes and you treat him so delicately. He's never felt this kind of care before, this good goosebump feeling, the hairs on his neck standing on end at the slightest touch from you. He loves it.

🌿You give him a little face massage too, telling him to close his eyes, sitting in his lap and very gently, delicately massaging his temples, his cheeks and jaw. He didn't even know you could carry tension in your face like that but your touch is magic. And when you finsih it with a kiss pressed to his lips he pulls you in for a deeper one.

🌿 Tommy also likes to live the life of luxury, he always aspired to reach the levels of those higher social classes, he always wanted what they have and so when you beg him to go on a spa week with you he obliges. Its one of those things the rich do after all.

🌿He gets a taste for massages and takes you on many spa weekends. If he has a particularly troubling problem he needs to mull over he will often lie on his back in the sauna and think things through.

🌿Loves an ice bath/plunge pool because he's a fucking sociopath.

Alfie

🐻 Alfie has never had someone try to take care of him like this, he's not really used to having people take care of him at all but this is even more unfamiliar... As far as Alfie is concerned "self-care" is just "womans stuff ain't it"

🐻 "Well no Alf its not really, anyone can do it and well yknow... Youre always spoilin me aren't you," "rotten zieskiet, absolutely rotten," "well yeah, exactly... I wanna make it up to you, wanna look after you for once..."

🐻 He will argue, "But you see my little zieskiet thats just not how this works yeah, you and me yeah... You're my little girl ain't you," "yeah but..." "right, exactly right, you're my little girl and there ain't no buts about it zieskiet, I take care of you.. You don't want for anythin... You don't need to look after me, I do that myself right..."

🐻 "But Alfie," you whine fixing him with a pout and the most irresistible puppy eyes, "I want to look after you..."

🐻 So he lets you do it to make you happy... Of course he grumbles about it anyway, even if he's enjoying it. He can't drop his grumpy old man act now...

🐻 He lets you run him a hot bath, let's you use your essential oils, lets you wash his hair and condition his beard... On the condition that whilst you wash him you sing for him, something nice and sweet and low. When you're singing for him thats when he really lets himself relax, closing his eyes and feeling the heat from the water soak into him.

🐻He finds that he's able to relax and enjoy it but he can't actually admit to that, he rolls his eyes, tells you he's only doing it so that you'll stop hastling him about it, only doing it because it makes you happy...

🐻 But he secretly loves when you climb into the bath with him and massage his sore muscles, he loves feeling you comb your fingers through his beard and his hair.

🐻 Will not let you put a facemask on him, uses his beard as an excuse, also tells you he's got really senstive skin which is definitely another excuse... Five minutes ago he was pretending he didn't know what a skincare routine was, so how on earth he'd know whether he had sensitive skin or not you don't know...

🐻 You definitely teach this man the power and divine pleasure that is ✨moisturising✨ he gets dry skin and it gets worse when he's stressed so you teach him all about how to wash his face and how to moisturise properly, you make him promise he'll follow his routine every day, "happy skin means happy everything else..." you tell him and he just rolls his eyes and chunters away.

🐻 He will always insist you join him in the bath, he'll tell you he can't possibly relax if his little zieskiet isn't close by.

🐻 I feel like a lot of your self care tricks would be really good for his sciatica as well, relaxing when thats playing up, letting you take care of him. It's what he needs but it all has to be done under the pretence that its to make you happy and that hes the one looking after you.

🐻 At first he is definitely a little wary of letting you see him naked in a non sexual way, in a way where he is the vulnerable one and you're really paying attention to him... When you're not having sex being naked together makes him a little self concious, he thinks a massage will draw attention to his injuries ans scars, is worried you'll see him for the broken/breaking down man he really is

🐻 You tracing the ridges and lines of his scars, kissing them lightly when you're massaging him. Nuzzling into his neck and kissing him as your fingers trail the marbled scarring on his waist and his shoulder.

🐻 Theres one element of self care that Alfie really can get behind and thats meditation. He really enjoys sitting peacefully, letting his mind calm and settle, letting his thoughts wash over and away one by one. He believes it enhances his intelligence and insight, believes that by calming his mind he's making himself sharper.

🐻 He loves a hot stone bed more than he cares to admit but when his back is playing up lying on one of those feeling the heat relax his body slowly, its so soothing... He'll never go to a spa alone however, he always takes you as an excuse to be there.

Arthur

🍂 "You fuckin what? You're gonna make me feel better with some nice smells?"

🍂 Will not let you put "mud" on his face. "Darlin that's just fuckin wrong int it... Fuckin mud on your face? Like mud... From the ground..."

🍂 Arthur is completely baffled by the whole thing and honestly a little bit scared. It all just sounds like "girl stuff" stuff that his mates would take the everloving piss out of him if he admitted to trying it.

🍂 But you know Arthur, he might have that tough guy exterior, might come across as harsh and angry and well, rough... But underneath it he's hiding a delicate side, a side that you know would benefit from just a little self care.

🍂 You have to trick him into it, set some kind of trap because he won't conciously go near anything ylang ylang scented.

🍂 Is genuinely petrified of the shop Lush, crosses the street so he doesn't even have to walk past the front door. He's scared one of the shop assistants will lure him in with a polite hello and then drag him inside kicking and screaming, smothering him in all sorts of oils and bath shite. Once when you were just dropping in to buy a facemask he caught your hand and very very seriously told you to "be careful in there love, don't let anyone grab you" he even shuddered/had a nervous twitch as he watched you go in.

🍂 He doesn't know how to be taken care of, as the eldest son its always been his responsibility to take care of everyone else, he hasn't really been shown much love or care from many people. Most people are terrified of him, his brother who he should be closest to doesn't let him talk about feelings, and he's too embarassed about admiting "failure" to go to his aunt or anyone else for comfort.

🍂 From the first time you spoke to him you've been determined to show him that care. You looked at him, his nervous eyes, that lack of self confidence he was doing so well to hide, and you just thought "this is a man who needs a hot bath and a really good head massage"

🍂 But Arthur is so awkward and standoffish whenever you try to look after him. He hates it if you're "soft" on him because he thinks its imasculating and patronising. He finds it all so embarrassing and he'll go the most adorable shade of bright red whenever you so much as kiss his cheek.

🍂 The first time you suggest a nice candlelit bath he gets interested but thats because baths are literally just for fucking as far as he's concerned and he's dissapointed to realise that you have something else in mind.

🍂 Lots of protests, "y/n come on now we don't have to do this... This is just... I don't need to relax i am relaxed..." "Arthur you haven't been relaxed since your umbilical cord got cut..."

🍂 But once you're alone together in that bath he finally begins to relax. You tell him to close his eyes and at first he refuses or asks why. "Cause its better for relaxing..." "You're gonna do somet to me aren't you... Gonna use one of them fuckin mud potions..." "Promise I'm not..." you try to take his anxiety seriously but "mud potions" is a difficult thing not to laugh at.

🍂 He does his best to relax though and grows to love the feeling of your fingers in his hair, it really does feel like a weight being lifted.

🍂 His favourite thing is to close his eyes and lie back against your chest, the skin on skin contact, the steam and warm water doing wonders to slow his racing mind right down.

🍂 You give him hand massages a lot and he really likes learning how to give them to you too. You teach him where your pressure points are and he concentrates really hard on learning exactly how to take care of you too.

🍂 And sometimes when you're in the bath together you let your hand travel a little lower than usual, you let his idea of bath time win out.

🍂 You take him to a spa and he's so unnerved, he's worried he'll be recognised by someone and his reputation of being a ferocious gangster will be ruined. But he does like the sauna, trouble is it puts him in the mood for fucking...

🍂 Doesnt like a steam room, he feels too vulnerable in there because its dark and steamy and he gets claustrophobic not being able to see so well. If you go into the steam room he will stand guard outside so that nothing bad can happen to you in there.

🍂 You teach him lots of different breathing exercises and try to get him into stretching. They're such effective ways of relieveing tension and you know they'd do him the world of good. But he's not very flexible and he just grumbles. He is however astounded by how bendy you are and will often ask you to show him certain poses just so he can get a good look at you.

🍂 He does try to remember the breathing exercises and they do actually really help him with his ptsd.

John

🌼 I feel like John would be down for doing facemasks with you, you painting his face with some ugly green clay mask, him painting yours with a glittery gold one, taking silly selfies with you.

🌼 He definitely strikes me as a "splashes face with cold water and dries it on an old tshirt" kind of skin care routine boy but you're determined to change his primitive ways.

🌼 He also definitely loves a spa day and you two frequently dissappear to some fancy spa retreat for the weekend.

🌼 Loves a steam room/sauna combination, especially when you join him, theres something really sexy about watching you lie on your back in a bikini, lit up by the dim orange glow of the sauna. That musky essential oils smell lingering in the air... The little beads of sweat on your breasts as your chest rises and falls... "Lie down John, stop starring at me you're supposed to be relaxing..." "Oh I'm relaxed flower don't worry about me..."

🌼 Loves a massage, especially when you go all professional on him with the essential oils. When you get him to lie face down on the bed and climb on top of him to massage his back. Feeling your hands all over him, feeling your legs straddling him...

🌼 You know what else is a good stress reliever love? An orgasm.

🌼 You put cucumber on his eyes when he's in the bath and he immediately thanks you for the snack and eats it. You're speechless, how do you even begin to tell him thats not what thats for.

Bonnie

🍀 Perfectly happy to be silly with you and will let you do whatever you want to him if it makes you happy... So he lets you work out his skin type and prepare the perfect face mask...

🍀 Actually sometimes he'll acompany you out into the forest to find the berries and plants you need to make your little self care rememdies with, its a good excuse to spend time with you and he finds it incredible how knowledgeable about plants and herbs you are...

🍀Does point out that this facemask you've mixed up for yourself is just a really fancy overnight oats recipe... Does eat a spoonful and imediately regrets it wincing and spitting it out.

🍀 It does take quite a lot to convince him that self-care isn't the same as make up and stuff, he's always telling you not to "buy into all that wellness shite" because its just a new capitalist method of getting your money off you...

🍀 And you know, he's not completely wrong, but self care isn't just about buying stuff and you have to try and teach him that before he'll really let you show him stuff. Showing him how you make natural face masks, moisturisers and bath salts does help this process.

🍀 He has to take care of his body for his boxing and he's no stranger to a sports massage, actually more often than not he's the one trying to get you to let him give you a back rub... Whenever you offer he always starts on you, squeezing your shoulders, telling you you seem tense. He's such a smooth talker you don't even realise he's derailed your plan until he's smoothing warm lavender oil over your back, working your muscles skillfully. And when you do realise you don't want to ask him to stop.

🍀 After his fights you want to take good care of him and you always insist he spends the following day with you, relaxing... You spoil him with a hot bath to sooth his sore muscles, scented candles and nature sounds asmr music, massages, he even lets you put a hair mask in his curls.

🍀He's always been torn about things like spa days, hes always thought they were something for posh people, wives of men who play too much golf... But again, he'll do anything if you ask him enough times, so he comes with you one day and he's adorably awkward and hesitant about everything.

🍀 You pick his treatments for him and he really really has to trust you because he's not sure what an "all over body sugar scrub" is but it sounds, intimidating? Afterwards when you ask for his review he just grins, "I'd have liked it more if it was you in there with me..."

🍀 Ultimately though Bonnie's idea of self care is a day in the woods, or by a river with you. Somewhere peaceful, quiet. Lying back against a tree trunk with you in his arms.

🍀 "Really dove, takin care of my girls what makes me feel good, enough with your scented candles now eh, let me look after you, it's not like i ain't good at it..." he says whispering the last sentence in your ear, kissing your neck as he starts to massage your shoulders.

🍀 You're literally never winning this battle sorry.

Isaiah

🐀 Will roll his eyes when you suggest a self care night, calls it your "hippy dippy bullshit" teases you and asks if you're going to do his birth chart whilst you're at it... "Maybe I should Si, might find out why you're such a snide git eh?" You'll probably regret flashing him that cheeky smile.

🐀So aye, he's not exactly easy to convince, he has the same opinion on self care as most the other men... That its girls stuff, that it ain't manly to smell like lavender and camomile.

🐀But, a little wine, a few candles and a hot bath... You with your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers massaging his scalp gently... Whats not to like about that... He really likes how close it makes you feel, the connection between you strengthening.

🐀Thats more to do with the fact he's being vulnerable with you and his vulnerability is being met with care and love, rather than down to the fact you've sugar scrub massaged his back and legs.

🐀He will let you do facemasks with him but it will come accompanied by many threats, "you tell anyone about this mousy and I promise you you'll regret it..." but you're not scared of him and so you tease him with the threat of telling his touch guy gangster friends all the time. You start getting your own way much more often.

🐀I think he probably enjoys the tension of letting you shave him with an open razor blade, i don't know if this counts as self care so much as just a personal hygiene thing but either way, its a very intense and intimate experience and you're the only person he trusts to do it because you're so gentle and delicate with it that you never cut him.

🐀He fancies himself a social climber and enjoys the status of being able to "treat his girl to a relaxing weekend away" he definitely enjoys taking you to spas and baths, but he tends to let you go off for all the fancy treatments and just enjoys swimming in the pool and relaxing on the stone beds or in the sauna.

🐀Another man who needs to be taught about the power of moisturising. His skin gets dry and you buy him moisturisers and give him little face massages. He's much better at remembering to do his little skincare routine than alfie is because he cares a lot about the way he looks.

🐀"Fuckin drop it with the meditation shit love, i go to church I say my prayers, I don't need to do deep breathing to cleanse my soul..." he just won't do it, won't try your stretches either because "I go to the gym don't I, yogas for girls love..."

🐀Pulls stupid faces at you when you put cucumber on his eyes.

Michael

☘️Out of all the men he takes care of himself the best. He already has a skincare routine, has several serums he uses too.

☘️ So it doesn't take much to convince him of other self care activities. However, don't you dare call it self care. "Look I'm all for lookin after meself like i just don't see why we've got to give it some soft girly name now..."

☘️ He really loves being pampered, kind of likes being treated like a king... His cousins take the piss out of him for it but he doesn't care... "Don't really see whats embarrassing about having my girl massage me back after work... Don't it make me more of a man that I've got a woman who's obsessed with me..." you never let it slide when he talks about you like that but you also know why he's doing it. He's just trying to get his cousins off his back.

☘️ Would probably spend every weekend at the spa if he thought he could get away with it. He likes to throw his cash around and receive special treatment.

☘️ He really really loves a salt scrub and he's a secret fan of a facial too.

☘️He's never the one to suggest that the two of you have a self-care evening together but you can always tell when he needs one and he never refuses your offer.

☘️You have a mini spa built into your house, a sauna and a hot tub, sometimes when you're having once of your self care nights you find yourself next to him in the hot tub, your mood changing.. Your mind drifting to other things, but when Michael is relaxing he's relaxing and theres no disturbing him.

☘️"Not now love eh, later maybe..." his little spa is sacred to him. You're astounded because he must be the first man to turn down the offer of a hot tub fuck.

[copinghex]

Family bonds | T.S

Summary: After a hurtful comment at a fundraising event, you wonder what really bonds Tommy to your child. 

A/N: Ok, so as I previously mentioned, I edited some of my old stories and will be reposting one per week. This is the first selected!

"Do you want to sit?" Tommy whispered in your ear, your hand went straight to your belly, moving up and down, where you baby rests and patiently waits to be born.

"No, I'm fine, just take this gin away from me, otherwise I'll be tempted," you pushed his glass away, "are the cute kids working?" 

"The wives look more excited than the men, but yeah, four huge donations until now," 

"In less than two hours? That's a new record!" 

This was probably the best business idea you ever had. The inauguration ceremony of the Shelby Institute for orphaned children took place in a cozy room, with closed windows and lighted up fireplaces, the cold breeze freezing the bones of anyone who dared to attend without a coat.

Months later, spring came to warm your bones and put a self-giving feeling into Thomas Shelby's heart. In the middle of a boring, typical week, he arrived home planning to uplift the structure of the institute's building. 

He told you the idea during the night, with his hand resting on your pregnant belly and although he didn't tell you what made him come up with it, you could clearly see his line of thought.

Tommy could rarely afford nice things, there was no gentleness in survival and for most of his life, that was all he did. Finally, with his rise to new money, he could provide something he never had to children who look too much like him - comfort. Also, being seen as a charitable person would do no harm to the business.

The small change of plans you suggested put a smile on his face, instead of making a typical fundraising dinner, why not make an afternoon tea? The invitations encourage couples to bring their children, seeing those innocent little humans running around shall make them remember why to donate.

A mansion with a huge garden was rented for the event, maids were hired to look after the children and butlers served biscuits and hot cups of tea. For your surprise, the event had more children than adults, most couples - including you and Tommy - were outnumbered by their children. 

Your eyes ran through the garden trying to find your little ones, the younger one was the easiest, no place was safest than inside your own mama, but it was better to keep an eye on the other three. Marie Louise Adler, whose hair looked exactly like yours. The twins, Henry and William Shelby, except for the eyes, are small versions of Tommy, from the physical appearance to the mannerism.

Quickly, you found William trying to teach one of John's girls how to use a slingshot. A few steps away, Henry had a handful of biscuits and carried a toy car made of wood.

"Where is Loui-'' before you could ask, a collective ugh followed by a child's cry got your attention.

Louise was under a tree with her knees on the grass, the hem of her yellow dress covered in dirt and the left leg of her white stockings ruined, exposing her bruised knee. Tommy reacted faster than you, his hand slid through your waist as he ran in her direction. You quickly followed after, rolling up the sleeves of your dress.

He picked Louise up, she put her arms around his neck and seemed to calm down a bit. A maid tried to apologize for neglecting your little girl, but you were too focused on following Tommy inside to answer.

Curious eyes followed your trio while you crossed the hallway and once you were in a private room, Tommy tried to put Louise on a sofa, but she didn't want to let go.

"C'mon, love," he encouraged, making her lift her crying face from his neck and allow him to sit her down.

"What happened, Lou?" you took her hair off her face and her stockings off, watching out to not brush her bruised knee.

"I was trying to climb on the tree, but I got scared and slipped up," she brushed off tears with her tiny hands.

Tommy took a napkin and wetted it with gin, after kneeling in front of the girl, he asked, "And what did me and mama say, eh?" 

She looked down, ashamed of disobeying.

"You can only climb trees when me or daddy are around to help," you rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry," she pouted.

"Now I have to clean your knee, it's full of dirt," Tommy held her leg.

"No! It 's gonna hurt!" she pulled her leg back.

"Just a little, but don't think about it," you sat at her side, holding her head to your chest, "think about the delicious cake I'll get you when we get home!" 

"Can we get some too?!" William, who'd been peeking the whole scene from the door, suddenly yelled, Henry tried to shush him and ended up being dragged by the hand into the room.

"Boys! How long have you been there?" 

"It was William! He had the idea of following you!" Henry quickly accused.

"That 's not true! You were curiou-" 

"Alright, boys, it doesn't matter," Tommy silenced the argument before it started, playfully hitting the twins foreheads with the napkin.

While you were distracted by the kids, Tommy had taken care of Louise's knee and the five of you were finally allowed to go back to the event.

Louise insisted Tommy should carry her, Henry and William took your hands and the eyes of many guests softened to the vision of you walking together. 

Soon, the kids dispersed in the garden, Tommy got the attention of charitable housewives, interested in donating to the institute, you leaned on an empty table, sipping your favorite juice and smiling at anyone who crossed your way.

"Mrs. Shelby!" an old woman walked to you with a huge smile, "I must say, this is the most diverse charity event I attended in years!" 

 "Oh, thank you so much, misses…"

"Thompson, Aline Thompson, nice to meet you," she shook your hand. "you don't drink?" 

"Usually I do, but I'm pregnant," 

"Darling! That's lovely! Your husband is already so lucky to have two kids, now one more!" 

"Three," you corrected her.

"Pardon?" 

"Thomas and I have three children, Henry, William and Louise," 

"Well, if that's the case, I guess you're the lucky one, Mr. Shelby indeed treats the girl as if she's his," 

"Hm," you pressed your lips together. "may I ask who told you Louise isn't Tommy's?" 

"It's written in the guest list, Y/N Adler Shelby and Louise Adler, I'm sorry for Mr. Adler, I'm sure he was a good man," she smiled, "now, if you excuse me," 

Aline left you with teary eyes, how dared she speak about your family like this? But what if…? What if she was right? Did Tommy really love Louise? Did he see her as his daughter or an extension of you?

"Seven, Louise falling over had a good effect on them," Tommy held your arm, telling you about the new huge donations.

"Really? That's great, love," 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yeah, just a bit tired," 

"I'll tell the driver to take you home," 

"No! There’s still a few hours to go,"

"Ada will take your place, most of the guests are leaving already anyway,"

"Oh, alright then," you drawled.

"Will you take the kids?"

"Yeah, I think," you looked around, searching for them, "just Louise, the boys look like they're having fun, can you look after them?"

"Sure." 

-

The way home was quiet, Louise had asked to rest on your leg and fell into deep sleep, Frances helped you to carry her to bed. After a well-deserved bath, you had put some foundation's papers in order so Tommy could add today's profit without any problem. Night was falling and all you could do was wait for the rest of your family to arrive.

Heading upstairs, your eyes fixed in a spot they usually didn't, the family painting. It took months of persuasion for Tommy to agree to pose and even longer for it to be done, since he only agreed to give away two hours of his agenda. 

Your heads leaned together in a sign of unquestionable affection, Louise sat in the middle, where your right and Tommy's left leg stuck together. William was on your left leg and Henry on Tommy's right, they were less than two years old and didn't get a characteristic Shelby haircut yet. All in all, you looked like a family, no one would dare to say otherwise, unless Aline Thompson.

The sound of the front door opening followed by the maid's heels told you Tommy arrived, you decided to wait in the stairs and he showed up alone.

"Where's Henry and William?" you asked with furrowed brows. 

"At Ada's, they wanted a sleepover with Karl," 

While you both walked upstairs, he had a hand on your lower back and you realized he didn't ask about Louise, the very first thing you did when Tommy arrived was to ask about your kids, Tommy didn't even bother, probably because Louise wasn't his.

Time passed quietly, Tommy took a bath and asked a few questions about the paperwork, you told him to add today's profit and nodded to whatever else he said. Night could have been good, or at least, peaceful.

He sat on the bed looking through his paperwork and his sudden warning made your jaw clench, "You have a doctor's appointment scheduled for tomorrow, so be home when he arrives," 

"What for?" 

"To check on our girl," he answered without paying attention.

"How do you know it's a girl?" 

"This pregnancy it's different from the boy's," 

"Oh," you lay down, turning your back on him, "I'm glad you at least care about this girl," 

He sighed and you heard him writing something, a few seconds passed until he asked, "What did you say?" 

You didn't answer.

"Y/n, what do you mean?" he touched your shoulder, trying to make you look at him.

"Nothing, Tommy, nothing," 

"No, what the fuck you mean with this girl?" 

You sat up, taking a good look at his face before questioning, "How many children do we have, Tommy?" 

"Three and another one on the way," he harshly answered and you sighed in relief.

"This is what you say to everyone else, right? Not just to me," 

"Yeah, y/n, of course, why would you fucking ask that?" 

You teared up and Tommy's face softened, he cupped your face, catching some tears and patiently waiting for you to speak.

"You only have three, Tommy, the twins and this one," you rubbed your belly.

"Who said that?" he looked at you with disbelief.

"It's the truth," 

"Louise is my child,"

"You know she's not, I know it, you know it, and-"

"Y/n-" 

"Aline Thompson fucking knows it," 

"Who 's Aline Thompson?" 

"It doesn't matter, Tommy," 

"It fucking does, if there's someone around saying Louise isn't my child, then I have to know," 

"It won't change the facts." 

"Listen," he moved closer to you and cupped your face again, "Louise is my child, I'm raising her, she's a Shelby." 

"Then why didn't you ask about her when you arrived?" 

"I asked Frances, she told me she's sleeping since evening," 

"Oh," your cheeks heated up, ashamed of this huge misunderstanding. 

"Who's Aline Thompson?" 

"A stupid woman at the charity tea, she said I was lucky for you treating Louise as your own," 

"Lucky, eh?" he nodded, "I bet her husband has a deal with the Shelby Company," 

"No, Tommy!" you giggle.

"Oh, just a few pounds to lose,"

"Tommy! You're mean! Not that she doesn't deserve it," 

Hesitant knocks on the door made you stop laughing, you and Tommy switched a look before he got up and opened the door.

"I'm sorry to bother, Mr. Shelby," a young maid holding Louise's hands apologized, "but Louise wants to sleep with you," 

Too sleepy to speak, your daughter rubbed her eyes and walked past Tommy, climbing on the bed and laying near you. 

"Right, thank you-" 

"Oh, also, Mrs. Thorne called, the twins want to come home."

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡In the Blood｡⋆.

Alfie Solomons x plus size reader

The youngest Shelby sister was supposed to be the good one, the innocent one, but apparently she’s got some secrets of her own

Warnings: shelby!reader (unspecified as to whether she was adopted or not), nudity, protective Tommy, getting caught in the act (sex, sex is the act), mentions of unplanned pregnancies and castration WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Ada knew something was wrong with her little sister- she was skittish, hiding her eyes beneath caps and behind her hair, and most telling of all, she stopped coming to family meetings. The final straw came when the elder Shelby sister sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a cold cup of tea as Karl slept in a small bassinet by her chair. He had been a pain all night so Ada had resorted to staying up, gently rocking him with her foot.

Dawn was just starting to break when the front door opened. Ada was perfectly positioned at the kitchen table to see her little sister, who had just turned 21, walk into the house dressed in a coat that was far too big to be hers with her shoes in her hands. The grin on her face was wide and dazed- Ada knew that look well. She smiled and went back to her tea.

When Y/N finally did stumble down the stairs, 10 minutes past noon, Ada and Pol lay in wait. “Good morning princess.” She groaned in reply as she took the offered painkillers from her aunt. “Have a good night?” Ada teased.

“Was fine, just had some drinks with the girls.” Pol raised a dark eyebrow at her niece. 

“Oh really. And I suppose it was one of your ‘girls’ that gave you that bruise on your neck.” Y/N’s eyes widened comically and her hand flew to her throat in an attempt to hide where her skin was discoloured. But after a moment, she sagged into one of the kitchen chairs, knowing that she was caught.

“You won’t tell Tommy will you?”

Pol patted her hand lovingly. “Tommy won’t know until you’re ready to tell him but he will find out eventually. I think you’re old enough to have a couple secrets of your own.”

“It won’t be a secret for long if you get pregnant.” Ada murmured under her breath. Y/N’s head whipped around. Her eyes had that same dangerous gleam that Tommy’s got when he was planning something big.

“I actually know how to pull out Ada.” Pol choked on her tea, giving a very undignified snort that made her youngest niece beam. 

Ada rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Accidents happen.” Y/N’s smile grew wider, her eyes scrunching with its size.

“Speaking of, where is your little accident?” Her chair clattered to the floor as Ada shot up and dashed to her little sister. Anticipating this, Y/N darted away at the last second. She bounced on her toes like she was contemplating some big decision and, flipped off her sister. 

——————

One of the few freedoms that Y/N was given in her adulthood was her own apartment, though until recently, she had not spent much time there, favouring the family home on Watery Lane. But whenever she was at her own place, there was the tiny little condition that her siblings and her aunt each had their own key, for emergencies as John and Arthur claimed. Yet they respected their sister enough not to make use of these keys, until today that is.

Tommy shuffled up to the front door, hat low on his head as the freezing rain pelted him. It had been a stupid idea, a walk to calm the storm in his mind as black clouds descended over Birmingham. So he found himself here, at the door of his youngest and arguably favourite sister. 

He jammed his finger into the doorbell, distantly hearing it ring from the partially open window above him. Yet, there was no movement inside. Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder, it was at least another hour to walk back to the Garrison, there was no way he was going home to face Pol without at least one drink. The cold metal of his keys stung his palm as he fished them from his pocket; Y/N wouldn’t mind the intrusion, in fact she’d probably feed him before sending him on his way.

His cheeks burned with the change in temperature as he stepped into the hallway. A heavy thump and then a loud groan of pain came from somewhere above his head. “Y/N?” He called out, but received no reply. 

Tommy didn’t even bother to hang up his coat, taking the stairs two at a time he reached the landing in no time and with no hesitation, he threw open the front door, hand on the butt of his gun, fully prepared to deal with whatever situation his little sister had been thrust into.

But maybe not this.

His sweet baby sister was kneeling on the floor, stark naked, her back facing him (thankfully) with an equally naked man laying between her legs, hands on her hips and an obviously broken couch behind them.

“Tommy!” She yelped, her arms darting up to cover her chest as he instinctively spun around and faced the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s raining. Who’s the man?” A deep chuckle soaked into the wallpaper, its familiarity almost mocking the gangster as his mood turned even more sour than it had been only minutes before. A soft slap followed, then the man’s heavy footsteps vanished into the bedroom.

“No one Tommy, just a boyfriend. You can turn around.” A greatly oversized men’s shirt concealed her body, the horrified expression on her face almost tugged at his heart strings, almost.

Tommy glared at her. “A boyfriend?” His words came out as more of a growl, his anger mounting. It was one thing for Y/N to have picked up a boy from the Garrison or at the market, as much as he hated the thought of anyone even looking at her, but to have hidden a boyfriend from the family? From him? 

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her older brother. “Yes. A boyfriend. You know, like most girls my age have.” 

“Not without my permission.” Her gaze hardened.

“I’m a grown woman Thomas.”

“Not when you keep secrets from me.” 

“Now that’s rich coming from you.” She scoffed. Tommy’s eye twitched. “I think more than half of the things you have said to me my entire life have been you lying to keep some secret or another. Why am I not allowed to have some of my own?” Her arms crossed over her chest, unwavering in her determination.

Tommy reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it. “That was business.”

Y/N opened her mouth to undoubtedly hit back at him with something clever that he would blame Polly for but before even a single sound had passed her lips, another voice rumbled through the small apartment, making his blood freeze. 

“Well it’s a damn good thing this was a business meetin, wasn’t it darling?” And suddenly, in his little sister’s living room, wearing only trousers and with a cigarette hanging from his lips, was Alfie Solomons. 

Tommy’s head whipped over to Y/N who now had her head in her hands. “Him?” Was all he could manage around the bubbling anger building in his throat. Alfie laughed and as if to add insult to the injury, wrapped a large arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. She refused to look at her brother, fixing her eyes firmly to the floor like she used to do when caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Alfie was practically beaming, gloating. “She’s done a very good job at keeping me secret from you. Even got me to hide in a fucking supply cubbord once.” A vein in Tommy’s head throbbed as he laid a palm over the butt of his gun.. “But ey, you must be proud, passing on those strong genes. She’ll be runnin circles around you in no time.”

“Alfie, I will fucking kill you.” She pleaded.

“It’s in the blood ain’t it? Can’t even imagine how sneaky our kids are gonna be considering our tendency to tell a little fib.”

“I’ll castrate you before that ever happens.” Tommy growled and finally pulled his gun clear of the holster but Alfie didn’t even flinch. In fact the man’s eyes sparkled with vindication.

“See, all in the blood.”

Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria @relatednative @starboygf

[swanimagines]

Hey! Could you write headcanons for Being the Peaky Blinders’ nurse? Thanks so much!

When you first got one of the Shelby’s to your little clinic, you were surprised instead of being afraid. 

The Shelbys weren’t exactly good people, but they were kind to those who lived in the area, helping them in exchange for not snitching on them.

So you didn’t think twice when you ushered them to lay the man on your table and started examining him.

It was John - bruises covering his body, him groaning in pain as you twisted and pressed around him to find any broken bones.

He had a nasty gash on his side and bruises, but nothing more serious.

So you disinfected his gash and wrapped it up, before you called out to his brothers to come and pick him up.

“A week of rest and lots of water helps a lot,” you instructed them. “But if he gets a fever, bring him back immediately.”

And that was that, they thanked you and left.

You thought it was the last time you’d see them, at least for a while – but then they kept coming back.

You didn’t really understand why, your little clinic at the corner of two backstreets, on the verge of bankruptcy, when they could afford going to one of the fancier places near where the injury happened.

Not that you complained of course, they paid you handsomely.

But to your surprise, those payments weren’t enough as a large company bought the building complex where you had your clinic, and you were forced to close it.

You wandered around Birmingham for a week or two, trying to make up a way to feed yourself and pay the rent for your flat.

And then…

Tommy Shelby himself appeared at your door.

“I have a proposition,” he started, handing you an envelope. “We have a free room at the Garrison, you could practice your clinic there. In exchange, you would take care of our gang.”

You eyed him for a moment before you peeked into the envelope. Hundreds of pounds laid there, enough to pay off months of rent in advance. You frowned.

“Why me?”

He was quiet for a moment. “You help without questions, are good at what you do and are currently struggling.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, fiddling with the envelope, before you nodded. “Let me get my suitcase.”

The room at the Garrison was bigger than you expected—not as big as at your clinic, but plenty of room to do whatever you needed. And you remembered occasionally thinking that you could get by with a smaller room.

So, you began your work.

The gang was your priority, but you were allowed to take other customers for extra coin.

Not that there were many, but you were content treating the gang only too - they paid you well, you had money to live comfortably.

Sometimes, they invited you to have a drink or two with them.

In case you fell sick, Polly and Ada took care of you.

Hot tea, warm blankets, soup.

They fell like they were your mother and sister those times, by how caring they were.

Eventually, you moved to live closer to Garrison, Tommy pitching in to help you with costlier rent.

Finn growing up meant he spent time at your clinic a lot. He got into trouble almost daily and came back with bruised or bleeding knees, and you were constantly patching him up.

And Arthur needed your help after he returned from fighting rings, or when he had wandered around and got into trouble while drunk.

You grew to be an important part of the gang, something you didn’t expect.

And they, in turn, grew to be important to you too.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S)

[streetlamp-amber]

don’t leave

tommy shelby x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: domestic violence, typical peaky blinders violence, mentions of blood NOTES: takes place after season one. i might have gone a little ooc with tommy by the end #sorrynotsorry. i’m also thinking of making a part 2 to this. maybe. i don’t know.

“Oh, come on! I’m harmless!” You cried in defence as you watched two men tie your wrists then your ankles to the chair you were shoved in.

The last man of the trio observed you, taking a drag from his cigarette before throwing it on the floor. “You shot me. Twice.” He said, monotonously.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at you and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at their intensity. You quickly recollected yourself, hoping he hadn’t noticed the little slip up in your facade.

He had.

“It was an honest mistake,” you shrugged your shoulders. “I thought you were someone else. Everyone knows not to shoot at Tommy Shelby.”

The two men who were occupied with tying you down stepped out of the room once they were done, leaving you alone with the most notorious gangster in Birmingham. You didn't really know where you were, probably one of the Peaky Blinders’ warehouses if you had to bet on it, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared. But, nothing could be worse than being with the man you were hiding from, so you found some solace in that thought.

“And who did you think I was?” Tommy asked you.

“No one important,” you brushed off, turning your head to the left to avoid his stare. Your eyes took in your surroundings, there wasn’t a lot of furniture here you noticed. Par for the chair you were tied to, there was what looked like a desk with another chair in the left corner. No machinery, no crates. The rest of the warehouse was completely empty.

“Eh!” Tommy called for your attention, snapping his fingers in your face. “You shot me twice, I think I deserve to know who you thought I was.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “I didn’t shoot you twice, I shot at you twice. There’s a difference, I didn’t even hit you.”

“Small detail,” Tommy said. “Answer the fucking question.” His patience was beginning to wear thin, very thin.

You gulped. What was the point of avoiding the question? “My fiancé,” you finally answered.

“Your fiancé?” He repeated, trying to keep the confusion out of his tone. “Why would you shoot at your fiancé?”

“Because he’s a vile man that I don’t even want to marry,” you told him. If your wrists weren’t tied to the chair, you would’ve crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Can you untie me now? You know I’m not a threat to you.”

“Does he hit you? Is that why you’re running from him?” Tommy asked, ignoring your request.

“Amongst other things,” you mumbled, head hanging low so you could avoid his stare by keeping your eyes on your lap.

“’Amongst other things’,” he repeated your words to himself. “What does that mean? Is he a threat for the people of Small Heath?” He didn't want some low life fuck to come mess up the order of things on his territory.

“Probably, I don’t know,” you admitted, scrunching your eyes closed before looking back up at Tommy. His face was much closer now, maybe five inches separated the tips of your noses as he crouched down with his hands on his knees to be at a closer level to you. “All I know is my brother was in debt to the Billy Boys and promised my hand in marriage to one of those fucks to pay off part of his due.”

“The Billy Boys? Aren’t you a little down south of their territory?”

“Thought I’d be able to hide from them here,” you said. “Until last week, when I saw one of them trying to follow me at the market.”

“And that’s why, two days ago, you shot at me,” Tommy put the pieces of your story together.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Shelby, I was just so scared,” your voice started to wobble with emotion, your tough, indifferent persona out of the window. “Them Billy Boys, they’re the spawn of the Devil himself. They’re gonna kill me after they catch me.”

Through your blurry vision, you saw Tommy rise up and sigh as he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

“Alright, we can help you,” he finally said after a few minutes.

You felt the tears roll down your cheek, whether they were tears of exhaustion or fear or relief, you didn’t know. “Thank you Mr. Shelby.”

“But it won’t be for free,” he pointed his index finger at you. “You know how to use a gun?”

You hurriedly nodded your head. “Yes, yes I do. I usually don’t miss my shots, I was just afraid when I shot at you.”

“Well thank God you were, eh?” It could’ve been a joke attempt if his tone wasn’t so serious. “It’ll be useful to have a woman to work undercover when needed. And you will tell us everything there is to know about the Billy Boys and your fiancé so we can know who to look out for.”

“Yes Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy crouched down to cut loose the bonds around your wrists and ankles. “My brother John will accompany you to your lodgings so you can fetch your stuff, it’s not safe for you to stay there if they’ve been following you around. You’ll stay with me on Watery Lane, Ada’s room has been vacant ever since she got married.”

“Thank you Mr. Shelby,” you grabbed his hand as you thanked him and Tommy stopped moving, blue eyes staring at the grasp you had on him. You noticed his unease and just as you were about to release his hand, you felt him briefly squeeze your fingers before letting go.

“Come now, I’ve got business to attend to,” he beckoned for you to follow him and it took you a second to come out of your stupor due to everything that has happened in the last fifteen minutes before you rose up from the chair and walked a little behind him, out of the warehouse.

It had been a month since that day in the warehouse. You hadn’t seen your fiancé or any of the Billy Boys since then, but you also rarely went out of the Shelby house (other than to go to the Garrison). And on the rare occasions you did, two Blinders were following close behind you to make sure nothing happened to you. You still felt greatly in debt to Tommy for taking you under the Peaky Blinders’ protection, so instead of doing nothing while you waited for any “undercover mission”, you helped down at the betting den. You liked how lively it was there, you had never worked in a place like that before and the constant rush helped you take your mind off your worrying situation. You hadn’t seen any of the Billy Boys but that didn’t mean they had left town, you knew they wouldn’t back down until they have what they came for: you.

Working in the den for the last month has helped you make your place in the gang. You spent a lot of your days alongside John Shelby and Scudboat, and they would drag you with them to the Garrison where you played drinking games and got drunk like you used to do when you were younger. You now considered the Shelby family your friends. Arthur and John were like the brothers you wished you had, Polly was a nice woman to have around in this environment full of men, and Finn, sweet Finn, his childish innocence might be fading away as time went by, but playing with him was like a breath of fresh air in your stressful life.

Tommy… Well, Tommy was Tommy. He was hard to read, hard to open up, but he was slowly starting to warm up to you. It was a bit awkward at first, living with him, but one night a little after you moved in, the two of you shared a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen, barely speaking any words but both comfortable with the silence. It soon became a part of your daily routine. Some evenings were short, Tommy would only stay for one glass before retreating to bed, while other evenings, when he was in a better mood, you would go through an entire bottle and talk for what seemed like hours. You did most of the talking, but Tommy would share some of his thoughts, maybe even some anecdotes. You loved the stories of his childhood, about all the mischief he, Arthur and John would put the people of Small Heath through. And Tommy, he loved listening to you.

You liked the life you were building for yourself in Birmingham, amongst the Peaky Blinders. You never thought you would one day leave your small village up north, where life was dull and horrible with your brother. Your mother died while giving birth to you and both your father and your brother resented you for that. Your childhood was pretty rough, it wasn’t rare that you’d show up to school with bruises, it didn’t matter who they were from. Then your brother went up north to Glasgow, and for a while it was a blessing, to no longer have to worry about what he would do to you. But three months ago, he came back and with him was Brennan. They dragged you up to Glasgow for your wedding to this man you had never met before, you who had no say in this decision, and were forced to live with him. You couldn’t continue living like this, Brennan had you fearing for your life more than when you lived with your dad and brother. You didn’t stay for more than two weeks in Glasgow before you escaped in the middle of the night and ended up here, in Birmingham.

So to now find yourself, miles away from the nightmare that used to be your life, with the safety of the Peaky Blinders, it allowed you to imagine a future that wasn’t so miserable.

You were walking down to the Garrison once the betting den was closed, talking with Scudboat about the profits you had made that day while Billy Lovelock followed behind the two of you. You were deep in Peaky Blinders territory, less than five metres away from the entrance door to the pub, when a gun shot rang out.

You ducked in fear, hands covering your ears, and when you reopened your eyes that you didn’t know you had closed, you saw Billy laying on the ground out of the corner of your eye.

Oh no, you thought, this is it. They’ve found me.

“Come on! Come on!” Scudboat grabbed your elbow and dragged you towards the Garrison, but you hadn’t made more than three steps before your friend was shot in the leg, crumbling down. “Go inside!” He told you. “You’ll be safer!”

A part of you felt bad for leaving him and Billy out here, wounded and bleeding, but you knew the rest of the Peaky Blinders would be quick to come help them. You started running, which was a bit hard to do with the heels of your shoes sinking in the muddy, uneven ground with every step you took. Your fingers were inches from the door handle when you felt a strong grip on your shoulder pull you back and slam you hard against the wall, knocking your head against it in the process.

“Ya thought ya could run away from me? Eh, lass?” Your fiancé’s stinky breath wafted against your face. You scrunched up your nose in disgust.

“I don’t know, you didn’t find me for a while,” you sassily replied, pressing his buttons, and immediately regretted it. A sharp sting appeared on your left cheek before it registered that he had slapped you.

“Heard ye fucked Thomas Shelby for his protection,” he continued, resting his right forearm over your throat with a slight pressure. “I oughta cut his dick for that,” his left hand held your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, “and you, well, you’re in for a lot more than a beating once we’re out of ‘ere.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you Brennan,” you angrily spat through gritted teeth. “You’re in Peaky Blinders territory, they won’t let you get out of here with me. And I didn’t fuck Tommy Shelby, I didn’t need to fuck no one for protection.”

“What did I tell you about lying?” He screamed in your face, making you flinch.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t see Brennan reeling back his fist to punch you in the face but fortunately, the contact never came.

“HEY!” Scudboat yelled from where he was on the ground, gripping his wound to contain the bleeding. “Get your hands off of her you fuck!”

Brennan turned around to look at who was shouting orders at him. “And who the fuck are ya?!” He let go of you and stalked towards Scudboat, pulling his gun out of his coat.

You had an out. Your fiancé’s attention wasn’t on you. You could escape, find safety in the Garrison, but you knew how Brennan was. You couldn’t leave Scudboat alone, the man had become your friend over the last month and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing he had died because of you.

So you grabbed a shovel laying on the ground a few metres away and right as Brennan pointed his gun at Scudboat, you whacked him behind the head with your weapon, knocking him out right away. “Motherfucker,” you grumbled to the unconscious body and threw the shovel on the ground before kneeling next to Scudboat. “Are you alright?” You asked your friend, your hands hovering over his thigh where his blood kept oozing from the bullet hole.

“I’m fine Y/N, get inside,” Scudboat waved you off.

“What about Billy?” You glanced up to where the strong built man still laid on the ground, also unconscious.

“Don't worry about him, just get inside!” Scudboat shoved you away.

You did as you were told and sprinted to the Garrison. You pushed the door open only to be met with an empty pub. Your wide eyes roamed around the room. This isn't normal, you thought to yourself. There wasn't even a bartender behind the bar! Usually, around this time of the day, almost every seat should've been occupied, beers should’ve been poured, laughter should’ve been heard. But nothing.

You walked towards the snug, where Tommy and his brothers could usually be found, but instead Jimmy McCavern, Callum Maxwell, Kenneth Morrow and Angus Burns were occupying the room, all four of them staring at you with that look in their eyes that made you want to run away as far from them as possible.

“Y/N, so nice of ye to join us,” Jimmy said, his voice sending chills down your back. He looked comfortable in his chair, with his arms crossed over his chest, almost relaxed, but you didn’t let your guard down.

“Where–”

“Where are the Peaky Blinders, ye ask?” He interrupted you. “They’re a wee bit busy right now, I’m afraid it’s only us.”

“Take a seat, darling, go on,” Angus told you, motioning to the empty chair in front of you.

You did as he said, your hands wringing together in your lap. You knew not to become all witty and sarcastic with these men, obeying them was always the best thing to do.

“So, hope ye had yer fun down here with Thomas Shelby,” Jimmy continued, uncrossing his arms to instead rest them in front of him on the table as he leaned closer to you, “because yer days of fun are over. You're coming back to Glasgow with us, married to Brennan like yer brother arranged.”

It was at this moment that you realised you couldn't escape the Billy Boys. You had been so foolish to think you could leave them in the past, that you started imagining a future without Brennan. The Peaky Blinders could not protect you, you had been foolish to think otherwise.

But still, you weren’t going to lose without putting up a fight.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m not marrying Brennan.”

“Ye don’t have a choice lass, yer brother promised yer hand,” Callum said.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” You asked angrily, tears pooling in your eyes. “This is not my debt, it’s his! You can kill him for all I care, he never cared about me so why should I care about him!?”

“A deal was made, ye can’t back out of a deal with the Billy Boys,” Kenneth said, his eyes telling you to stop arguing.

“No!” You slammed your hands on the table and stood up. “I’m not going. I’m not marrying Brennan. I refuse. This isn’t my deal!”

“Don't make this worse for ye, lass,” Angus warned you, also standing up.

“Fuck you!” You spat and took off in a run, escaping through the back door of the Garrison.

You knew the four men were on your tail, you could hear their heavy footsteps behind you. You tried to remember the directions Tommy had given you to Jeremiah Jesus’ church as you sprinted down the dirty streets and alleys. He had told you to hide there if you ever needed to, and since Jeremiah didn’t partake in the Peaky Blinders’ activities, the chances he would be there were quite high and, honestly, your last hope to survive.

Gunshots started ringing against the brick walls, luckily for you all the bullets flew past you since none of the four men were able to perfectly aim while running. You turned left at a corner and Jeremiah’s church was finally in your vision field, less than a few blocks down. Jimmy and the others still had yet to turn the corner of the street, so you took this advantage to go down a small alley, knowing it would lead to the back door of the church.

You stumbled in the place of worship, out of breath, and Jeremiah came out from the back office to see what the commotion you had created was about.

“Y/N, are you alright dear?” He asked you, helping you walk inside while your left hand clutched at your chest.

You shook your head ‘no’. “The Billy… The Billy Boys… They found me,” you wheezed out.

Jeremiah’s eyes widened at the urgency of the situation. “Come with me, there’s a trap where you can hide in my office.”

The priest led you to the back, closing his office door behind him before moving the rug behind his desk, revealing a trapdoor. He unlocked the latch and lifted the door. “Hurry, get in,” he waved with his free hand.

You lowered yourself in the hole, sitting down in the small space, and looked back up at Jeremiah.

“Do you have a gun on you?” He asked you.

You shook your head ‘no’. “I was with Scudboat and Billy Lovelock, we were on our way to the Garrison. There was no need for one,” you answered.

Jeremiah motioned for you to hold the door open over your head while he rummaged around his office. “Tommy always keeps a gun in here just in case,” he explained to you as he continued his search. “You can never know when it’ll come in handy around here– Ah! There it is!”

He crouched down and handed you a pistol. “I’ll try to keep them out if they come around. Stay safe.”

You nervously gulped before nodding your head. “You too, Jeremiah.”

The priest smiled, an attempt to make you feel slightly better in the situation you were in, and closed the door above you. You heard him lock the latch and replace the rug above the trap.

You remained there for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds you could hear were your nervous, laboured breaths and the gun slightly shaking in your hands. You were about to start praying – you never really believed in God after everything you had been through, but what better place to turn to Him than in a church – when you heard the door to the office open, followed by the sound of feet walking on the floor. Scared, you held your breath and willed your hands to stop shaking as you got in position, gun pointed up and ready to shoot.

The rug was moved and the latch was unlocked. You could feel the beating of your heart grow faster and faster as the seconds went by. The door was pulled open and, upon seeing the gun pointed at him, Tommy raised one hand up while the other lowered the door on the floor.

“Woah!” He exclaimed, raising his other hand up, showing you that he was no threat. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just me.”

When your brain registered that the face in front of you was the one of Thomas Shelby, you let down your arms and sighed in relief.

“Oh Tommy!” You cried out. You dropped the gun on the ground while you stood up and wrapped your arms around Tommy’s neck, bringing him in an unexpected hug.

Tommy was surprised at first, but Scudboat had told him what happened outside of the Garrison and he had received a phone call from Johnny Dogs informing him that Jimmy McCavern and his goons were in town, so he held you against him, trying to comfort you as best he could.

“You're safe now,” he reassured you, his right hand scrunching your hair as it held your head. “They’re gone now, Jimmy’s gone, Brennan’s gone.”

You pulled away, your eyes red with tears. “What did you do to them?”

“I was able to strike a deal that they simply couldn’t refuse,” Tommy answered, his right hand now cupping your cheek. “They won’t bother you again Y/N, not ever.”

Overcome with a wave of strong emotions, you shocked both Tommy and yourself when you leaned forward and kissed him. It didn’t last more than a second for you pulled back right after, bringing your hands in front of your mouth as you gasped. “I’m so sorry Tommy, I don’t know what–”

“It’s alright,” Tommy interrupted you, shaking his head. “Let’s get you out of there, yeah?”

You nodded your head, still embarrassed of your actions, and picked up the gun before grabbing the hand Tommy held out for you. He helped you out of the trap and closed the door behind you while you stood up and put the gun on Jeremiah’s desk. When you turned around to face Tommy again, you found him mere inches away from you. Your breath hitched in your throat, you had never been this close to him before, except when you first met, when he interrogated you while you were tied up to a chair. You looked up at him, his unreadable icy blue eyes staring right back at you, and he was the one to surprise you by closing the distance between the two of you, his lips finding yours again.

Your eyes fluttered close by themselves as you lost yourself in the kiss, your hands finding their place at the base of his neck while his right hand cupped your cheek and his left one held you flush against him by the waist. It was no secret that Thomas Shelby was pretty to look at, but you never really thought about him in a romantic way before. That being said, there was no bone in your body opposed to kissing him. Actually, it even started up a fire inside you, one that you were too preoccupied to acknowledge right now.

Tommy broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours as you both took some deep breaths. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he said with his deep, low voice. “I’m glad they didn’t take you away from me.”

He never told anyone because he wouldn’t even let himself admit it, but Tommy had grown comfortable with your presence in the house. After what Grace did to him, he promised himself he would only focus on the business and his family, but his attachment for you came rather unexpectedly, just like your entrance in his life did. Still, he didn’t want to act on it, whether it was because of fear or because of disinterest in wanting some romantic relationship, he didn’t want to ponder on it too long. But after what happened today, when he heard your fiancé and Jimmy McCavern would try taking you back to Glasgow, he realised he would regret it for the rest of his life if you were gone without him having the chance to pursue anything.

You looked up at him, brushing his nose with yours as you moved your head. “Me too,” you whispered. “Thank you Tommy, for everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, brushing your hair with his hand that previously held your waist. “Just, just stay with me. Don’t leave.”

The vulnerability in his voice made you smile, he had never been so open with you before. “I didn’t plan on leaving anyway,” you answered and kissed him again, safe in his arms.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀

john shelby x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't necessarily your fault. John Shelby could be surprisingly attractive when he got angry.

tags n warnings: SMUT/MDNI, choking, mentions of blowjob and rough sex, but it's really sweet sex, creaming. word count: 1.5k

John was a hurricane when his anger took over. He would scream, curse, punch whoever he could. The problem was that you, in a completely twisted way, liked it. There was something addictive about the danger, the way he boiled with hatred, and that night, you couldn't stop adding fuel to the fire.

“Won’t you put this fucking book down?” His voice was filled with irritation as he approached, his heavy footsteps echoing across the wooden floor.

You grinned, slowly putting the book down. With your leg crossed, you dangled your foot absently, as if he wasn't there, boiling with rage right in front of you.

“I didn't mean to interrupt your smoking time, John.” You replied, your tone innocent, but the mischievous glint in your eyes provoked him more than any words could.

His expression tightened and, without warning, he snatched the book from your hands and threw it on the floor with a dull thud.

“What’s the point of being with my wife if she just gets lost in this shit?” He hissed, his jaw tense. “You spend all day with other people and when you’re with me, you’re on those useless communist pages.”

You had to hold back a laugh. “Calm down, John. I was just giving you some privacy.” You stood up slowly, keeping your gaze fixed on his, defiant.

His blue eyes flashed. “You’ll have plenty of time to read when I’m traveling again.” The threat came out between clenched teeth, his voice low and dangerous, close to your face.

“Probably.” You hummed, your lips curling into a sly smile.

But before you could let out another provocation, you felt a strong tug on the back of your neck. His hand gripped your hair, the fingers of his other hand entwining around your neck and squeezing hard enough to immobilize you.

“Don’t. Fucking. Play. With. Me.” He murmured, each word thick with tension.

Your scalp burned under his grip, but instead of fear, all you did was let out a muffled giggle.

“Sorry.”

John released your hair with a sudden movement, watching you take a deep breath, relieved, but still with that damned little smile on your lips.

That was the last straw.

“I’m going to wipe that fucking little smile off your face, bitch. Do you understand me?” He growled before pushing you against the wall. The impact made the air leave your lungs.

The provocation died in your throat when you saw his eyes — cold, sharp, filled with something dangerous.

“No, John. Please, calm down.” You choked, finally feeling like you might have gone too far. “Let me explain.”

“I hate when someone laughs at me.” He hissed, every muscle in his face tense, his breathing uneven. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, and the only thing you could do was blurt out the truth, without thinking, before he could do something worse.

“I’m sorry, John. I didn’t mean to, I… I just wanted to do it because I find you attractive when you’re angry.”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

His grip on your waist relaxed, and he took a small step back, giving you room to breathe. His jaw was still tense, but something changed in his expression.

The silence lasted a few seconds, until John snorted, shaking his head.

“You must be kidding me.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. You gave a hesitant smile, your shoulders relaxing. John laughed again, short and dry. “No fucking way. Are you serious? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Sorry, I always thought that was good, there’s french erotic literature that I find interesting and you look like that, the male protagonists.” You confessed, blushing embarrassedly.

“So you read pornography or something?” He frowned, pointing to the book left on the couch. You nodded, waiting for his reactions. “Holy shit. Those French… that’s not normal.”

“What’s not normal? A woman who enjoys sex?” You asked, taking a step forward towards him. John assessed the perimeter that was you and gave another one, surprising you with a light squeeze on your neck.

“You being like this, this way. It’s not normal.” He whispered, lifting your face with his hand still on your throat, pulling you towards him. “It’s my dream and I’m not fucking normal.”

“Then take advantage of it.” You teased, biting your lip, but John pressed his fingers even more, running his tongue over your lips.

“You’re not a woman to be treated like a slut. You just think you are.” He murmured, letting go of your neck and pushing your body against the cold wall, walking to your front, placing his hands on either side of your face, holding you in place.

“Why not?” You mumbled, raising your hand to the tent growing in John’s pants without taking your eyes off him, squeezing his cock in your fingers.

John licked his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment before parting his lips. “Cause you won’t be able to handle it.” He smirked, his blue eyes shining with desire.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged, squeezing your hand on his cock, running your thumb over the tip.

“What do I get if you lose?” He returned, tilting his head to the side to fit his head into your neck.

“When I win, you’ll give me the attention I want all weekend.” You sighed, feeling his lips part on your skin with a smacking kiss.

“Have I told you how bad you are at making bets?” He laughed, lowering his hands to grab your waist, pulling you closer.

“No, since I’ve never bet.” You spoke softly, closing your eyes when he slid his hand over your breast, lowering the fabric of your dress while you lowered his pants.

“I can see it.” He replied, lifting your clothes so he could touch them, mentally noting that you were wearing nothing underneath.

“You never let me go to the races with you.” You added, closing your eyes as you felt the filling feeling of John’s cock stretching your walls once more.

“It’s dangerous.” He grunted, placing both hands on your ass to start moving slowly, enjoying the wetness and heat enveloping his length, lifting his face to look at yours. “There are bandits and it’s risky for me to get distracted by fucking you.”

“Am I that irresistible?” You teased, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I’m the one who’s a shameless dog.” He countered, holding one of your thighs. “And also because that cunt of yours is impossible not to want to taste. It’ll distract me and I won’t bring home any food.”

“I get it.” You sighed, the warm feeling between your legs was impossible to ignore, it seemed even more intoxicating today after all the teasing.

“You’re clenching.” He commented, increasing his pace slightly, feeling your walls do the same movement once again. “Gonna cum?”

“No, it’s just—it feels so good.” You moaned, rocking your hips, looking down to see your pussy swallowing him hungrily, sucking his cock glistening with excitement back in. “What you doing if I lose?”

“We’re not playing right now.” He chuckled, following your eyes in the same direction and how tight he was around you, as if he wanted to swallow his balls. “No, I’m just… enjoying this here. It’s too good to—ignore and listen to my slutty wife’s stupid bets.”

“Slut?” You repeated, closing your eyes tightly as you felt him touch your spot, punishing only that spot when you realized.

“But if I had to choose a prize, it would be you sucking my cock while I’m working—I wouldn’t let you leave until I’ve done it all.” He grunted, starting to go faster and clumsier.

“That’s—yeah, shit. John…” you mewled, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“That’s it. Fuck, take it all. Take it all for yourself, baby.” He gasped, lowering his face to kiss your neck. His cock went in and out inside you with the sound of stronger and faster skin, the way he did when he was too close. You were no different.

“God— John…” You came undone, holding on to his neck as he chased his orgasm and tried to stimulate you with sweet nothings in your ear, until you felt the jets staining your walls white.

“Shhh, take it all.” He murmured, not stopping until he stopped pulsing inside you, not wanting to waste a single drop outside your womb.

With one last thrust, he stayed there. For a few seconds, you just stayed there, trying to control your breathing. He left your leg on the floor, planting kisses from your lap until he reached your mouth.

“There’s no way I can treat you like a slut.” He broke the silence, meeting your eyes. “I can’t destroy such a good pussy.”

“Even if I make you angry?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side.

“I didn’t say anything about not ruining your throat.” He teased, pulling your lips between his teeth. “It’s the biggest reason I get angry most of the time.”

[noforkingclue]

Hi there! I saw you’re accepting requests again! 😄

From the prompt list you just reblogged, would you be willing to write something for Tommy Shelby with: ❛ want me to model these for you? ❜ ??

Thanks so much if you’re willing to! ❤️

Of course! Thank you for requesting :D

Sorry it took so long to write but I hope you like it!

Title: Presents

You paused when you saw the box on your desk. You had come into the office early to catch up on some work and the last thing you were expecting was this. You slowly approached it, half expecting it to disappear or maybe it was a trap and it would-

“It’s not going to explode.”

You jumped as Tommy’s voice cut through the silence. It was strange seeing everything so quiet. You were used to the hustle and bustle, of people shouting and swearing and a thick layer of smoke hanging in the air. You looked over at Tommy who was leaning against the wall, cigarette between his teeth. He pushed off the wall and walked over.

“Why is it on my desk, Mr Shelby?” you asked

Tommy was silent for a moment as he approached. He blew out a stream of smoke as he stood next to you.

“Open it.” he said at last

The tone of his voice told you that there was no room for argument. Automatically you did so and your breath hitched at what you saw. You gently trailed a finger against the thick fabric of the coat. The other day you had mentioned to Polly about needing a new coat. You had your current one for years and the were only so many repairs and patching you could do before you had to admit defeat and get a new one.

You certainly weren’t expecting this.

“Mr Shelby-” you started

“Don’t,” he interrupted firmly, “can’t have you freezing to death.”

You pulled the coat out of the box, almost too afraid to touch it. You knew that it was way out of your price range. You could never afford something like this even if you saved all you could for a year. Which only left one question.

“Why?”

“Why,” Tommy took another drag from his cigarette, “can’t have Polly’s protege freezing to death.”

You held the coat up and noticed a matching scarf at the bottom of the box. You smiled faintly at him and held them out.

“Want me to model these for you?”

You could’ve sworn that Tommy stiffened briefly. For a second you wondered if you had overstepped an invisible line. Then again, who else had Tommy bought gifts for? Maybe his family but that was different. You weren’t family. You were just someone that Polly saw promise in and took under her wing. Then, after what felt like hours, Tommy nodded.

“Show me,” he said, his voice low, “to make sure it fits.”

You took off your old coat and slipped on the new one, wrapping the scarf around your neck. The coat fit perfectly and a small part of you was concerned about just how well it fit. You spun around, the coat twirling around and you stopped facing Tommy. He was sitting down, still smoking, and looked you up and down.

“Perfect.” you said

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you, Mr Shel-”

“Tommy.”

“Huh?”

“Tommy. No more ‘Mr Shelby’. That’s how you can repay me.”

“Ok, Tom-”

At that moment the door flung open and you recognised the loud voices of Arthur and John. Whatever spell Tommy seemed to have you under was shattered in that instance. You took a step away from him, suddenly feeling self conscious in a coat that you could never afford.

“Well fucking look at you.”

A strong arm was flung over your shoulders and you were roughly pulled against Arthur. You could feel your cheeks get warm under his and John’s stares and you shrugged off his arm.”

“Who’s been fucking buying you presents,” Arthur continued, although from the smirk on his face, you could tell that he already knew, “you got a fucking admirer now.”

“Better be fucking careful,” said John with a smirk, “gotta make sure you trust him.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled at them.

“Very fucking funny,” you said, “I didn’t know you two were capable of getting in this early.”

Of course you knew what they were both capable of, both inside and outside the business. Now that the peace of the office was shattered you saw Tommy slink off in his own office. Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the coat as Arthur and John went off to do their own work. Quietly you said to yourself,

“Thank you, Tommy.”

[lis-likes-fics]

At the End of the Day

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Cockwarming Warnings: NSFW, smut, arguing, unprotected sex, fingering, desk sex, creampie, swearing... A/N: Nothing much to say for this one. Hope you enjoy and thank you! <3

He’s stuck behind his desk. Again. He’s got his pen in hand and a multitude of papers sprawled out on his desk as he works and works and works.

He’s been like this all week, buried under paperwork as you handle the children and the maids and the rest of the family. When he isn’t behind his desk, he’s out on business with Polly or his brothers or at a social event with you for the same business as Polly and his brothers. You could properly count on two hands the number of minutes he’s spent with the children or with you collectively.

You miss him. The kids miss him. You hate that he has to work so much.

“Tommy,” you whisper from the doorway of his office, knocking on the heavy door quietly as you look at him.

He hums deeply but doesn’t look up. Stuck in his work, he takes a drink from his glass and keeps his pen moving. His cigarette is still smoking in the ashtray set to the side, not quite finished yet. You sigh, saying his name again. Not so sweetly this time. “Thomas.”

He sighs and looks up, but his pen is still set firmly between his fingers. “Yes, dear?” he responds. He’s exhausted, you can tell, but he’s good at pretending he isn’t. You’re just better at knowing that he is. You stay by the door, looking at him as your eyes dart down to his pen. He looks down at it and sighs.

Tommy sets down his pen, a peace offering. He gestures toward you. “Come. Come in.”

You step forward, taking your time in coming into his office as you close the door gently behind you. You approach his desk, and he watches you walk toward him and come to a stop. You lean on the dark wood, your fingers pressing into it as you look at him.

“The children miss you,” you speak gently.

He hums, picking up his pen again. “I’ll tuck them in tonight.”

“Too late. They’re already in bed.” You sigh when he begins writing, rolling your eyes.

“Well,” he mutters, “that’s that, isn’t it?”

You clench your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the audacity of his words. You hum, watching as he writes, the sound of pen scratching paper filling the room as he gets back to work. He hadn’t even lasted a minute. You should know, you counted. He made it thirty-eight seconds between putting down his pen and letting it touch his hand once more.

“When I tucked in August tonight–” you snatch the pen forcefully out of his hand, ignoring the way he sighs as you slap it down onto the desk and look at him. It takes him a moment to look you in the eyes so you would continue, “–he asked if he’d done something wrong. He asked me if Daddy still loves him and his sister.”

In his eyes, you can see the regret beginning to blossom there. But as quickly as it comes, he’s masked once again in exhaustion and duty. “I–”

“I’m not finished,” you interrupt. He glances away but immediately looks back at you, knowing you won’t speak unless he’s looking in your eyes. “Delia wants to know why Daddy doesn’t brush her hair after she wakes up anymore. She said she’s scared that you got tired of her.”

That hurts him even more. His jaw twitches as he processes. “My–”

“I am still not finished.”

He sighs. With a shrug, he says, “We’ve only got two children.”

You close your eyes, clenching your jaw once more to show your frustration. He doesn’t speak again, allowing you the floor. “And you’ve got one wife who wants to know why you’re letting business come before family. Family above all else, that’s what it is. That’s what the whole fucking family is about, Tommy.”

He waits a moment to know if you’ll speak again, not wanting to interrupt you and feed your anger. He speaks slowly, “I’ll take the children into town tomorrow. We’ll spend time together.”

“And then you’ll go back to work.”

“I work for them, for you,” he says, his voice raising a bit. “I do all of this to keep you all safe and happy.”

You sigh, chuckling lightly as you shake your head. “Tommy, the kids are happier when they get to see their father. Spending time with them for a single day and disappearing for another month isn’t going to make them fucking happy!”

He doesn’t want to fight with you. He understands what you’re saying, and he’s frustrated that his efforts are not being understood, but he doesn’t want to fight. He looks at you, and he can see that you’re just as tired as him. He sighs, backing down before you both end up in a screaming match. Screaming at each other won’t fix anything.

He rubs his eyes and picks up his glass, taking a sip from it and setting it down gently in hopes of easing his nerves. He looks at you, staying quiet for a long time. You take his silence for what it is, a moment to breathe. So you take a breath and lift your hand, removing the crushing weight of your palm from his pen. He doesn’t look at it.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’ll spend more time with the kids. They shouldn’t be missing their father.”

You sigh, looking around the room in an effort to level your voice. “It’s not just them who’s missing you, Tom.” You look back at him. “We don’t even sleep in the same room anymore. You’re always down here on this fucking couch or back in Small Heath on ‘business’. I can’t remember the last time you held me, the last time you touched me.”

He sighs. You watch his shoulders fall. “Come here,” he bids softly.

You shake your head, removing your hands from his desk and taking a step back. “No.”

“Come here,” he says again, not as softly.

You blink away from him, a heavy sigh leaving you as you make yourself move. You walk toward him, rounding the desk to his side. He reaches a hand out to your side. You begin to jerk away from him, but he’s not having it. He pulls you in, both hands on your hips as he turns his chair to face you.

Tommy looks up at you, resting his chin on your belly as his thumbs caress your sides. It feels good. Really good, you almost melt into his touch. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction as you place your hands over his and pretend like you’re trying to push him away. He’s unconvinced, but he plays along.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Two sorries in one night…you must have won the lottery. “I know you don’t want to hear me say it…but I have a little more work to finish tonight–” you go to push him off with a scoff, but he holds you tightly and raises his voice a bit above your frustration, “–and then I will tend to your needs. I promise you.”

“Tommy–”

“I promise,” he insists.

You look at him, wanting to be angry but finding yourself helpless at the sight of his normally cold eyes staring up at you with more warmth than anyone else—besides his children—would ever receive. You sigh heavily, rubbing your temples and refusing to look at him as you speak. “Fine.”

He actually smiles, breathing a gentle laugh. “As a matter of fact,” one of his hands slides down your side and ducks underneath your nightgown, “I can do two things at once.”

He pushes your panties to the side with his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk away from him at the sudden touch and you speak, annoyed that your voice comes out as a whisper. “Tommy.”

“Shh,” he kisses your belly over your gown. “Let me take care of you.”

He slides his fingers over your folds, swiping back and forth along the length of them before slipping between them. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch a little more as his thumb continues to tease you. You set your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself steady as he watches you react to him.

You moan slightly when his finger pushes inside of you, parting your lips to delve deeper. He works it into you as the arousal begins to seep. “Good girl,” he bids, feeling you begin to slick up for him, just enough for him to add a second finger inside you. You grip his shoulders a little tighter.

He pumps them slowly, massaging inside you as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. You’re becoming faster than you would have liked, enjoying his touch too much after being without it for too long. “Tommy,” you whisper, a little whinier now that he’s got you worked up. He can see your nipples poking through your gown now.

“Just like that, come on,” he whispers. “Get nice and wet for me.”

His voice washes over you like velvet. You find yourself succumbing to him. You lean against him, into his touch, accepting his truce. His thumb massages your clit some more, making sure you’re nice and ready for him as he feels his cock stiffening in his pants.

After a moment, he pulls his fingers out of you. You grunt, your frustration returning at the loss of stimulation. You open your eyes and look at him again. You huff. “If you want me calm, this isn’t the way to do it.”

He chuckles, reaching a hand toward his belt as he begins to undo it. He just tells you to hush (in a kinder way) and pulls his cock out as he fixes his seat. You consider for a moment before relenting. You bring one leg over him, hovering over his lap in a straddle. You watch him as you grab his cock and line it up with your pussy, slowly sinking down on him and closing your eyes at the pleasant stretch. You moan gently. He breathes a little heavier, his hands on your waist tightening as you take him deeper and deeper.

When you’re sitting in his lap, you both let out a relieved sigh as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. You stifle a moan and begin to grind your hips, but he quickly stops you with his hands gripping your waist. You huff, but it comes out as a whine. “What?”

“I still have to work, darling.” “You can work later,” you argue.

He chuckles breathily. “Yes, but I’ll be able to pay more attention to you if this gets done first.” He raises his hands to your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. “You’ve just got to sit there and be still. I’ll take good care of you.”

You try not to pout. It would be too bratty, and you need him to take you seriously. But you do pout, and he does think you’re bratty, and he takes you seriously anyway. “How long is this going to take?”

He glances at the papers on his desk and considers for a moment. “Ten minutes.”

You roll your eyes and groan. “Hurry up.”

He kisses your jaw and retrieves his pen, tapping your bottom and telling you to be a good girl while he works. You sit and wait, keeping yourself still with more trouble than you think it's worth as the stagnant stretch of his cock feeds your hunger and refuses to quench it.

He braces his hand on your back as he works. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.

When you grind your hips absent-mindedly, searching for some friction, he lightly smacks you with a low grunt. “Stop moving.” You hum lightly, refusing to apologize but choosing to listen.

He's so warm, and he fills you so well. The urge to roll your hips once more fills your thighs, but you remain as still as you can, little moans and whimpers in his ear acting as your only act of defiance. He was thick, sitting so deep inside you as you clenched to feel him pulse.

It's been too long. You don't know how much time has passed, but you're reaching your limit as your desire for him after being neglected for too long grew to unthinkable depths. He's right here. You might as well take what you can.

“How long has it been?” you complain, pulling away to look at his face.

He doesn't look at you, but you can see the slight turn of the corner of his lips as he replies. “Nearly finished.”

“How much is nearly?” you question, raising a brow at him.

He turns his eyes on you. “Nearly.”

But you're sick of waiting. You need something, anything, right here and now before you keel over dead. You roll your eyes, “That's enough for me.”

You roll your hips atop his lap, moaning deeply in your throat at the pleasure that blossoms at the feeling. He grunts, holding your hip tighter and gripping the pen as though it were a lifeline.

“Love, I–”

Your words lift from a moan as you shake your head. “No,” you take his pen once more and toss it across the room, “I'm more important than whatever it is you're working on. Otherwise you would have sent me away the moment you could.” You take his face in your hands and pull him close to yours, your lips just barely touching, your voice low and frustrated. “It's my turn.”

He stares at you, awaiting your next move in silence. But you don't move, against your greater impulses, you sit still and stare back.

His lips crash against yours, a bruising kiss that begs your attention just as much as yours begs his. You moan into his mouth as his hands tighten around your hip and hold the base of your head.

He grunts into you, enjoying the taste of your lips as he guides your hips, grinding you down on top of him as he devours you.

The pleasure is quick to overtake you, sinking into every limb and flicking at every nerve. You're dripping onto his lap as you lift yourself up on shaky legs. The puddle of slick you've created just from sitting there for who-knows-how-long would be embarrassing if you hadn't been in this position so many times, being filled up by Tommy's cock.

You lift yourself until the tip of him is embedded inside you, the flex of your thighs making you tighter as you do. When you drop back down it forces rough moans from both of you as you grip onto one another for dear life.

You do it again, setting a rhythm as the electric feeling of the thrusts spreads through you. The sound of your thighs smacking into his lap fills the room with the steady pace, creating a sinful beat for your love to keep time with.

And the bliss of finally being tended to is good, but it isn't enough. You need more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, moaning meekly and rolling your hips. “Tommy,” you whimper, your voice a gentle plea, a helpless whisper, an innocent manipulation. “Tommy, I need you.”

He tries not to shudder at the way you sound, pleading in his ear. He holds you tighter.

“What do you need, darling?” His voice is rough and full of breath, eager to smell your perfume and taste the liquor on your lips.

“More,” you hum, followed by another whimper only half-real as you grind yourself once more. “I need more.”

He knows what you're doing. He knows all your tricks, all the little ways you get him to do exactly what you want. He knows the voice you use, the breaths you take, the way your eyes focus on him, the way you hold him just a little differently. He knows everything.

But at the end of the day, he is just a man who loves his wife. A man who would do anything to see her happy.

He strokes a hand down the back of your hair, his parted lips passing shallow breaths. Nevertheless, he pulls you from his shoulder. “I'm not giving you anything until you say ‘please’.”

You lick your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a moan as you decide whether or not you'll obey. But you do. With your palms at the sides of his neck, you speak. “Please, Tommy,” you beg softly. “Please give me more.”

He considers you, stalling just to make you squirm before picking you up and putting you on the desk, ignoring the pages and pages he lays you on. They're mostly done. He'll finish them eventually and let them go to whoever it needs to go to, still smelling of sex and the perfume you wear if it must. He doesn't care, he just needs you.

He holds you by the back of your legs, kissing the side of your knee as he stares at you the whole time. You watch him fondly, your breath shallow in your chest. He slips his hands down your thighs to hold your hips, lining himself back up with you and sinking inside once again.

Your eyes close and you purse your lips, a moan slipping through at the feeling. He presses himself inside you, rubbing against that deep part of you that makes your eyes roll. “Mm, Tommy.”

He sighs deeply, pulling out and pushes back in to set a steady pace. He starts with long, slow strokes that eventually build into a slew of quick, rough thrusts. You moan as you lay your head back against the desk, closing your eyes and trying to stay quiet as you gripped the desk behind your head. Your limbs tingle with the feeling of the pleasure spreading throughout your system. You clench around his cock and bury your face in your arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bite your lower lip with the smallest grunts.

“Come on, love,” he rasps, his hair disheveled and his breath rough with exertion and desire. “You wanted this, don’t hide from me.” He reaches one hand out to gather your wrists in his palm. “Moan for me, darling. Look at me.”

You bring your attention to his face, your lashes fluttering with each little thrust inside your quivering pussy. You release your bottom lip from your teeth, setting free more whimpers and whines as your back rubs against the wood of his desk, the rock of his hips having you bouncing atop it.

He looks pretty. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as he gazes upon your body. For a moment, he wonders if he should take off your gown to see your naked body beneath him. But if he has to pull out of you before he’s finished, heads will roll. “Is this what you want? Eh?” he wonders aloud, letting go of your wrists to place your legs over his shoulders. You reach forward just enough to grab his waist, holding him close as the pleasure builds to wavering heights in both of you.

He presses his thumb to your clit, pulsing and in need of stimulation. “You needed me to fuck you nice and rough? Make it all up to you, eh?”

You nod sloppily, not paying too much attention to what he says as the pleasure gets closer and closer to that so desperately needed release. Your thighs tremble, the delicious shocks of desire bringing them to life as he continues to fuck into you.

“Tommy,” you gasp, dropping into a moan at the end of his name. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“You are, eh?” he teases, rubbing your clit just a little faster. “Have you said ‘please’?”

You mewl, helpless as you obey simply for your own satisfaction. He’s got you laying on his desk with his cock shoved in your cunt, and you’re moaning for him like the whores he used to fuck, but you’re still mad at him, even if you still love him with everything you’ve got.

“Please,” you moan. “Please let me cum, Tom.”

He grunts as he accepts, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he keeps on. “Alright,” he says. “Go on, love.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a flick of his thumb, you fall apart as you close your eyes and lay your head back, your lips parting with a loud moan to let his name slip from your lips like honey. Your thighs tremble, your pussy flutters around him and pushes him over the edge.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as he’ll go, grinding his hips to bury himself there. “Fuck,” he curses, your name rumbling in his chest. He spills inside you, rolling his hips into you as he does to fill you up with his warm spend. Your body tenses as you accept him, your lungs full of breath as your whimpers bleed into each little sigh until you feel the pleasure beginning to wane in the tingling of your toes.

He leans forward, towering over your body as his hips continue to thrust into you, his lips finding the junction of your neck and shoulders to taste your skin against his tongue. His kisses embed themselves in the fabric of your skin until they reach your lips, eager to slot into their natural place and become whole once more. The sounds he muffles into your mouth borders on a moan as his eager thrusts slow against the sensitivity of your pussy still coming down from your high.

You both linger there moments after you’ve returned to the earth through obligation. When you’ve come to yourself enough, wrap your arms around his neck and let out a long sigh, releasing the deep breath you’d taken moments before.

“Fuck,” you curse on a sigh, carding your fingers through his hair.

Tommy pulls his face from the crook of your neck and kisses you again, long and slow and almost possessive. He leans back to see your face, bringing his fingers up to brush them over your forehead, looking fondly into your eyes and searching your face for all of his favorite little features.

He sighs. “I don’t say it enough,” he says, his voice low and gentle and sincere. You stare back at him, stroking your knuckles along his jaw. “I love you, wife.” Your noses bump. You breathe each other’s air.

You breathe a little laugh, humming lightly. “No, you don’t say it enough.” You close the gap to kiss him again, a quicker kiss. “I’ll make sure you do.” You don’t return it, but he can see it in your eyes that you do, you do love him. He can see in your eyes just how much you can’t measure it. You don’t have to say it. He knows.

He taps your side, breaking away from you as he pulls out with a small sigh. He takes your hand and helps you to sit up. As you do, you take hold of his shirt and bring him close to your face. He thinks you’ll kiss him again.

“And, Thomas,” you smile a little, but he can see the threat lingering on your lips before they speak it, “if those words come out of my children’s mouths one more time, I’ll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”

Part of him wants to believe it’s just a threat—you love him (and his cock) too much. The other part knows it isn’t. You love your children more.

He smiles at you, nodding. He laughs as he says, “I love you, woman.”

You sigh on a hum, taking in the sight of his pretty face. “Hm… I know.”

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 Tag yourself here...

[novashelby]

Pink Panties-Tommy Shelby x Reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: dirty talk, dubcon, teasing, spanking, panty obsession, sniffing said panties, fantasizing about said panties, breath play. Summary: Tommy Shelby's cute maid gets herself into some trouble, and well, he wants to uphold his reputation.

Please enjoy! Remember to comment and reblog. Is this a good comeback? It was meant to be a drabble about spanking. A cute drabble about spanking.....(And thank you strangergraphics for the divider).

He was a particular man as he enjoyed things neat and in order, but he more often than not, was not a cruel man to work for. To be a maid or nanny in the Shelby household was sort of a privilege on the ladder of household jobs. She was a simple maid who clocked in and then clocked out, and no one, but Francis had ever paid attention to her. Though, the occasional time that she’d get a glimpse of the man, he’d offer a nod of kindness and politely tell her to have a good day. She wasn’t as loud as Maisy, as outgoing as Clara, and certainly wasn’t as funny as Sandra. Many of the guests coming in and out paid attention to them, offering little quips of flirting. But her? She preferred to move quietly with her broom through the shadows. 

She took her little bucket with soapy water and the mop, turning his office doorknob with her elbow. Grunting as she pushed open the door with her bottom, the person inside looked up, amused how she struggled. “Shoot, shoot, shoot,” she hissed, water droplets splashing from the bucket. Throwing down the mop, the room echoed with a little boink. 

Tommy slid back down in the chair, feet propped on the desk and smoke perched between his fingers. He watched as she worked for a while, humming, completely oblivious to his presence. But he wasn’t oblivious to hers. She definitely wasn’t as loud as Maisy, outgoing as Clara, and annoying as Sandra, he thought, but she was certainly, in his opinion, the prettiest. The most delicate, the quietest, and the most womanly. Not womanly as physically, but that she radiated a certain femininity modern day ladies lacked. In fact, out of all his girls, she was perhaps the one with the most inquiries from single men. Often partners of his. But none of them would do her justice. 

His eyes followed the curve of her body as she bent over to move an ottoman. A breath hitched, getting stuck in his throat. Kicking his feet off the desk, he slowly got up and moved over. She was attempting to move an iron sculpture, far too heavy for her. Slow, taunting strides, he moved closer until he could smell her perfume. “Let me help you,” he said, but when his hand went to touch her shoulder, she immediately swirled around with a look of horror on her face.

Her heart dropped. She was alone just two minutes ago. Who? How? When? Gripping the wet mop tightly, she let out a loud shriek. The mop at that point turned into a very reliable weapon as she raised in and whacked it across his face. Tommy stumbled back, hand feeling the wetness on his cheek. “Fookin’ ‘ell!” he cursed, putting his hand up.

When her breathing eased and her heart calmed, she took a deep breath, stick the mop in the bucket. When she realized who she hit, her face went ghostly pale. “Mr. Shelby,” she whispered, seeing not only her job, but also her life flash before eyes. Immediately, she went for her rag, dabbing along his wet cheek. Fretting, she kept repeating, “oh, I’m so, so, so sorry…I just, I had…You just…Mr. Shelby, you’re never in your office at this time.”

Sighing, he moved away a bit, softly grabbing her hand. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Just be more careful with that thing, eh?” He pointed to the mop and her eyes followed before looking back at him. “It’s dangerous, I suppose.” It took her a moment to hear the smile in his voice. When she finally understood his tone, she smiled. “I was going to help you move that thing.”

“The sculpture?” she asked, kicking at it. It was a god-awful fugly thing. Rich people often bought ugly things. “I still don’t know what it is-”

“Me either,” he agreed, handing his wet coat on the rack and loosening his shirt. “But it came with the house and I have no energy for interior design. I’m not fashionable-”

“I think you are,” she let out, her cheeks going red. She motioned to his clothing before sighing. 

“And to think I was about to give you a punishment,” he teased, pinching at her chin. He winked, enjoying the way her face reddened at anything. She flinched back slightly, her face skewing, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. “But then you complimented me.” 

She gave a soft acknowledgement of amusement and grabbed the bucket, bringing it to the farthest corner of the room. She felt his eyes linger on her before she broke the small ounce of silence by saying something that surprised her. “I heard you were good with punishments, Mr. Shelby.” 

His brows arched before he nodded, saying in his smooth, quiet voice that reeked of confidence, “oh, yes. I can be very good at administering punishments.” She whacked the mop against the floor before dragging it around in circles, watching the suds bubble and pop. He walked closer, making sure not to step on the wet bits. “What have you heard of these punishments?” He pulled up a chair and draped one leg over the other.

Without looking at him, she said, “girls like to talk, Mr. Shelby-”

“Do they? And,” his voice dragged off as his hand motioned for her to continue. “And what exactly, y’know, ah, what exactly are these words they speak? This talk.”

Her smile widened. “Just gossip, I’m sure. Right, Mr. Shelby?” Her eyes fluttered to him. “All the things they say about you. Surely, there is no reason to believe any of it-”

“Oh, but perhaps there is some truth. All gossip starts with the truth, doesn't it, eh? What do you girls talk about in your bed chambers?” Oh, so many things. The three of them chatted constantly about the Shelby men. All night sometimes. How handsome he was, how sexy that other one was. What they believe they’d be good at in bed and what they’d be bad at. She, however, was more of a listener. Sometimes they’d say things like Mr. Shelby likes to use a heavy hand when a maid acts up. They’d all sing their song, claiming his hand has spanked their bottom. But she doubted it. 

“That you like to keep your maids in check-”

“And do I? Do you feel like I keep you in check-”

“Not anymore or less than any other boss, Mr. Shelby,” she said, walking around him to get a rag. “But they do say that you enjoy a heavy hand against a lady’s bottom. That when they act out, you have no quips or quarrels about giving a good spanking.” Tommy kept his composure, but on the inside he felt quite…shocked. They said that? That he spanks his maids. Well, the thoughts may have circled his mind, he never once spanked a maid. 

He grinned in amusement, grabbing a new cigarette before deciding against it, tucking it away. “And you believe such things?”

“You said it yourself, Mr. Shelby, all gossip must have some origin of truth.”

“And you think that is what I should give you right now? A spanking?”

She froze, feeling the heat return to her cheeks. She rushed back around the chair and looked at him. Scrambling for words, she was fighting for her dignity. “No, no, no! N-no! I was just…I didn’t…Why would I want a spanking? You’re the one who scared me! I was simply acting on self defense-”

“So you want to give me a spanking-”

“No! Mr. Shelby, nobody is giving anyone a spanking-”

“No?” he snorted, grinning, quite enjoying the flustered look on her face. “And you, dear, think you aren’t deserving of one?”

In a tone of finality, she stated, “no, I do not want a spanking-”

“I didn’t ask that,” he said, casually, shaking his head. “I asked whether or not you thought you were deserving of one. Now!” He grunted, getting from the chair, pushing it back. The room echoed with a creak. Slow strides, he cornered her against a book again. Her heart beat bounded like a drum in her chest. Tommy leaned in, pinching her chin. “You wouldn’t let me ruin my reputation, now, would you?”

“Mr. Shelby,” she let out, placing her hands against his chest. His hands reached up and held them, squeezing lightly.  

“And you can go back to your little maid friends. Tell them all about how Mr. Shelby spanked you.” He walked backwards, her hands still in his as he guided them both. “Now, are you more of an over the desk type of girl or over daddy’s lap kinda naughty, eh?” Tommy answered for her as she kept opening her mouth to speak, but it only came out as choked whispers. He twirled her around and pushed her against his desk. Her hands braced herself as he pressed his body against her back. 

“This is hardly necessary,” she whined out, but didn’t fight, even spreading her legs just a tad. 

“Oh, but it is,” he grinned. “Because you and I both know that you have been a naughty girl, and most importantly, Mr. Shelby believes in upholding certain notions and ideas about himself, especially those that keep his girls in line.” It had been so long since a man touched her so closely and intimately. Her body reacted almost in a deprived, needy, desperate way. The young maid wasn’t going to argue, mumbling a surprised yes, sir under her breath. “Under or over?” She answered for him, grappling with her skirts which he ever so kindly placed over her arched back. His fingers hooked under the waistband of her tights and pulled down. 

“Shit.” Her body shuddered, feeling the cool breeze hit her back. The way his fingers felt, just teasing at her skin as he pulled down her layers, sent goosebumps over her body. 

“Language,” he  whispered, in deep thought, admiring the curves he often fantasized about. How many men pulled down her underwear before him? It was always the quiet ones that surprised him. The ones that played innocent and unknowing were the ones with the deepest, dirtiest desires. She was no different, and he knew by the time she was done working at Arrow house, he was going to pull every last fantasy from her brain. “It’s like you knew that you were going to be a naughty girl today.” His fingers traced lines along her pretty pink knickers. “With naughty lace trimming. Who was to see these today if not me, eh?”

She looked back at him, doe like eyes. “No one-”

“I think you’re a little lying slut,” he said, watching her choke on his words. “That doesn’t mind that her boss is going to take these little panties and keep them-what? Don’t look so shocked.” Slowly, tauntingly, he pulled down her panties. “And what I’ll do with these,” he trailed off, pulling them off one foot and then the other. “Is I’ll keep them for my naughty self and start a whole new reputation for myself-”

“And you’ll-”

He sent a warning glare her way, his hand raised only to spank it down with a harsh slap. She cried out as the room echoed with a lightning sharp crack. “Shut up,” he told her, leaning over her body. Grinning, he grabbed her quivering jaw with one hand as he brought her panties to her face. “And what I’ll do, while my wife sleeps next to me, is I’ll pull out my cock. Give it a few good tugs until it’s nice and hard to the thought of you.” She let out a little moan, her ass pressing up against his groin, feeling the hardness. “And you can tell Clara, Sandra, Maisy, whatever the fuck their names are…that out of all of them, Mr. Shelby fantasizes about you-”

Closing her eyes, she whimpered out, “and my panties-”

Two fingers slipped in her mouth, pressing down her tongue. “I told you to shut the fuck up,” he grunted, positioning himself so that his knee could rub up between her legs. Her eyes rolled back as she moaned, a stream of drool pooling on his desk. It’d been to fucking long because just by his taunting, she felt herself swell with pleasure. His fingers pushed deeper, enjoying the sounds of her gags. “And when I am nice and hard that pre-cum is dripping, I’ll take your cute panties and wrap them around my cock.” His mouth went real close to her ears, peppering kisses, tickling her with teasing chuckles. “I’ll rub them up and down, thinking about how they touched your wet, needy cunt.” He removed his fingers from her mouth, along her to gulp up deep breaths. “Sloppy,” he commented, rubbing the drool all over her lips. 

“Mr. Shelby-”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, the prettiest, but the stupidest, eh?” His hand raised again landing down on her ass with an even harder spank. She cried out, fingers scratching at his desk. It left a pretty red mark. “I said keep that mouth shut!” His hand covered her mouth, watching her squirm and wiggle. Her face going nice and red, he grinned, pinching her nose. Panicked, she whined, thrashing and trying to pull away. But it felt so good. So fucking good to be right under his control. He allowed her breath as he continued on. “And while she sleeps right next to me, I keep stroking my cock, softly moaning your name as I stain these pretty panties white.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly slapped her cheek. “I’m not fucking done yet...and I walk myself to the bedroom where you’re sleeping, and I make you wear them-you can even show your little friends how Mr. Shelby adores you so much more than them.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss against her wet, pouty lips. When he pulled away, she inched forward, chasing after them. “Good girl,” he complimented, meeting her. Their lips moved together as he teased at her bottom lip; licking and nibbling. Her head was swirling with confusion, arousal, and above all, desperation while his right hand rubbed down her back, grabbing her ass. “Now, you go and finish my floors. I have business to attend to.”

“B-but-”

“Shhh,” he hummed, pulling away. He tucked her panties away and caressed her face. “Good girl.” 

[marksbear2]

Need Tommy Shelby to put me down and fuck me dumb while he call me his good boy, i‐ 🏃‍♂️‍➡️🏃‍♂️‍➡️🏃‍♂️‍➡️

🧀anon

My man my mannn, him and Arthur are my favorite out of the whole show. I’m gonna write a small lil thing abt this. And hi 🧀!!

⚠️Warnings!! Bottom reader, Praising, dirty talk, talking through it, spooning, cuddle sex, jerking off, short since I didn’t wanna write bottom reader 😭. And etc⚠️

Thomas Shelby x male reader

The bed squeaked and hit the headboard, grunts and moans falls from both men’s lips. Skin to skin as the Shelby’s hand wondered and touched your chest while kissing and nibbling on his neck. Both men were laying their sides spooning each other.

Tommy’s hips snapped back and forth thrusting his cock deep inside of you.

You let out a shaky breath as you feel Tommy’s lips kiss your ear then lower kissing down your jawline before down your neck.

“Your a good boy, taking my cock like a go lil thing, yeah.” Tommy praises as his tongue trailed down your neck. You’ve never heard Tommy this affectionate. He probably was wanted something after this, but you couldn’t care for the moment.

You feel his hand move down from your chest and to your cock wrapping his hand around it and jerking you off at the rhythm of his thrust.

“Good boy, good boy. Just like that huh?~” Tommy says kissing the side of your face as he thrusted in and out of you.

He either wanted something after this or disappear for weeks after this. You didn’t even understand why you let him do this to you. But you couldn’t help it. Thomas was perfect.

“Wanna cum?— can you be a good boy and cum for me?” Tommy asks breathing heavy by your ear as he jerks your cock off faster.

“I’ll be your good boy, I’ll cum!” You respond back in a weak moan as he jerks off your cock.

“Good boy, cum for me, cum for me.” He says as he squeezed your cock and stroked it with his rough hand.

You couldn’t hold off your orgasm any longer.

With a few more heavy moans and gasping you cum. Your cock spurts out its cum over Tommy’s hand and some getting onto the sheets.

Your hips thrust into his hand as he milks your cock. 

“Good boy.“

“You hear me, love? Good boy.”

THE END

[auroracalisto]

thomas shelby x gn!reader, 388 words summary: soft moments between husband and spouse. a/n: was gonna make this longer but I think it's good where it is. I think I had a brain fart while writing this <3

You lay against your husband's chest, fingers languidly brushing against the tattoo above his pectoral muscle. You do not move to look up at him—you know he's still awake as he pulls his cigarette from his lips and breathes out deeply.

You press a soft kiss to his skin, and you feel his free hand rest itself on the small of your back.

"You'll be gone for how long?" you softly ask. It's not the first time you had asked, either, but you just wanted to hear his voice. It made you a nervous wreck to think about it.

He let out a soft sigh. "Just a week," he says. "You know this, Y/n."

You frown softly, finger stopping its ministrations as you finally look up at him.

"I'm sorry," you softly say. "Just..."

He took another drag of his cigarette as he looks down at you.

"I just want you to be careful, you know? Luca's capable of some... well..."

"Yeah," he gruffly said, the smoke escaping through his nostrils. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know."

"Just a week," you say. "Then you'll be home."

"Then I'll be home."

"I hope it goes by quickly," you mumble, laying back on your pillow and moving away from his chest. You stretch out, looking up at the wooden ceiling of your home. "You will call if anything goes wrong, yes?"

"Always." He grabs his whiskey glass from the bedside table and takes a sip. He offers his cigarette to you. "Come back," he says. "I still have a few hours before I need to be ready."

Your eyes flicker to his, and a small smile forms on your lips. "You don't want to sleep?"

He sat his glass down and smashes the cigarette into the ashtray, before he moves towards you, hands moving to your hips. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips before his lips trail to your jawline.

"I won't see you for a week and you want to send me away without love?"

You scoff softly and wrap your arms around his neck. "Who said you'd leave without love?"

He gives you a soft smile before his lips once again find yours, and you find yourself melting into his touch like so many nights before.

[copinghex]

Not jealous at all | T.S 

Summary: Tommy doesn’t like when his girl dances with other men, but it's not jealousy, not at all. 

The party carried on loudly as the hours went by, both the Shelby and Lee kin were relieved a marriage was settled to end the war. Ironically, John, who had nearly ran away, was in a dark corner with Esme on his lap. Peace it was. 

Ada's laugh was muffled by the concertinas, fireworks and gunshots, the families and guests celebrated united in a happy crowd and the bonfire burned warm so no one felt the cold nightly breeze of the last days of winter. Tommy and Zilpha sat together at a certain distance, watching the party like their own personal kingdom.

The smoke of his third cigarette filled his lungs as his icy eyes wandered through the crowd, whiskey wetted his lips and his mind worked fast, putting the momentary happiness aside to plan his next move on the chess table Small Heath had become since the end of the great war.

However, an unexpected sight stopped the gears of his head in an abrupt move, his jaw clenched, eyes squinted and hands closed in a fist. His wife danced with a Lee boy, a beautiful smile decorated her face as she swayed in his arms.

Tommy's breath got heavier while he tried to rationalize his feelings. It was a wedding, people normally danced, the boy looked drunk, he mustn't know who she was to boldly ask for a dance like that.

But also, Y/N hated to dance, it took months of bargain to allow him to teach her when they were younger, she never smiled like that except when she was extremely happy and she wore her best dress for the occasion. Did she know the boy before? Did she doll up for him? Why didn't she ask her husband to dance before going to some random boy?

Before Tommy could stop himself, his feet took him to them, pushing the other dancing couples in his way. 

"Lee boy," he spat out.

"Tommy Shelby, I assume," the boy offered his hand, "I'm Gilbert," 

Tommy sized him up, only looking away when his wife whispered his name. She arched her eyebrows in a silent warning. Usually Tommy dealt with his jealousy silently, but his posture told her he could put up a fight at any moment.

"...can you excuse us, Gilbert?"

"Alright, nice to meet you, Y/N," 

His icy eyes didn't leave the Lee boy until his wife's hands rested on his shoulders. A cocky smile decorated her face as she asked, "May I ask what was that about?" 

No explanation was needed as his jaw clenched and a deep breath left his lungs. He couldn't put up a scene in front of everyone, he needed an explanation though. 

"Do you know that bastard?" Tommy asked.

"Not at all," 

"You looked so fucking happy-" 

"What are you implying?" she quickly interrupted, "John just got married, your plan worked right, why shouldn't I be?" 

Tommy's hands met her waist bringing her closer, he was never the one to display affection in public, but that situation demanded it.

"Are you jealous?" she continued.

"No," 

"Good, I'll find another lad to dance with then,"

"Oh no, you're not," he forbid, "you'll take a break for now,"

"Are you sure you're not jealous?" 

"I just want to sit down with my wife, is that a crime?" 

"No, it's not, it's flattering even," she pecked his lips, "but y'know, if you were to be jealous I'd say you don't have to, you're the only man I want," 

"Good thing that I'm not then, eh?" he insisted, his features softing up.

"Yeah, it's great," she giggled, allowing him to guide her to their seat. 

[brunettemarionette]

YOU WRITE FOR PEAKY BLINDERS OMGGG

could i please request Michael Gray x f!reader headcanons where she is a friend of the Shelby family, maybe a nurse that helps them out when they get injured, and slowly Michael starts falling for her? kind of the grumpy (Michael) x sunshine (reader) trope? bonus points if the Shelby brothers are actually protective over her because they consider her part of the family, aaah i just love me some yearning Michael🥹💘

I'm trying to get into it so this request was great for me! Hope you like what I came up with.

Michael Gray x Female Reader Headcanons | Grumpy x Sunshine | Peaky Blinders

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age.

You’ve been around the Shelby family for a while now—ever since Tommy stumbled into you, bleeding like a stuck pig, and you patched him up without flinching.

You’re not a Shelby by blood, but you might as well be. Polly insists on feeding you every time you drop by, Arthur calls you “our angel in white,” and even Tommy cracks a smile when you fuss over his stitches.

You’re soft-spoken, always smiling, and somehow still manage to hold your ground even when surrounded by cutthroats in flat caps.

Michael Gray doesn’t know what to make of you at first. He’s all sharp lines and cool distance, you’re warmth and light in a storm. It irritates him how easily you fit in with the family—how the brothers dote on you like you’re something precious.

He tells himself it’s annoying how you hum while cleaning wounds, how you tease Arthur until he’s red in the face laughing. Definitely not charming. Not at all.

The first time he’s injured on the job and you’re the one patching him up, he tries to keep it professional. But your hands are gentle, your words softer than he’s used to, and it’s unsettling.

“You’ve got to stop getting stabbed, Gray. I’m running out of bandages.”

He scoffs, but he doesn’t pull away when your hand lingers on his arm.

Over time, he finds himself showing up even when he’s not bleeding. Just “checking on the family,” he says.

You start noticing little shifts—how he always stands slightly in front of you when you're in a crowded room, how he lights your cigarette before his own.

The brothers start noticing too.

Arthur warns Michael with a jokingly serious, “She’s off-limits unless you’re serious, mate.”

Tommy just looks at him and says, “She’s family. Don’t forget that.”

At first, Michael is stubborn. He pushes down whatever he’s feeling. You deserve someone better—someone gentler. But you never flinch at his shadows. You see through the cold, calculated surface.

One night, you find him outside your flat with a bruised knuckles and a look that’s almost shy.

“You always fix us up. Thought maybe someone should ask how you’re doing for once.”

You smile, pull him inside, and that’s the first time he kisses you—soft, unsure, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

From then on, he’s still grumpy—but now it’s your grumpy man.

He doesn’t smile at many people, but for you? There’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

And heaven help anyone who tries to hurt you. The Shelby brothers are protective, yes—but Michael? He’d burn the world down if someone laid a hand on you.

Still, you’re the only one who can make him laugh so hard he forgets the world, who can calm him down with just a touch to his cheek.

You’re sunshine, and he’s been cold for too long. He never says it outright, but you know—he’s never going to let you go.

[motherofdogs1010]

Little Darling I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Birmingham has received a new club, one that is showcasing a exotic type of dance that is drawing in crowds, but it is one particular dancer that catches Thomas Shelby's eye... one that goes by the stage name: Little Darling

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, stripper!reader, eventual smut, swearing, drinking, mentions of prostitution/ sex work, canon Peaky Blinders violence

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Series Masterlist

A new club in Peaky Blinder territory was something that always raised Tommy's attention; usually, he would pay no mind when they first pop up, but it seemed like this club was different.

The Scarlet Letter was what it was called, Tommy had been sitting in his office at Shelby Company Ltd. when John and Arthur had come in to report about this club. Apparently, the club was showcasing a unique type of dance with its female employees, one that involved the use of a pole?

"A bloody pole?" Tommy had scoffed at the mention. "How the bloody hell are these women dancing with a pole?"

"Have to go check it out to see", Arthur had replied with a cheeky grin. "From what we've heard, this club had been making money. No ties to any gangs either."

It was a sight to see inside The Scarlet Letter, women adorned in expensive lingerie, their hair adorned in pinned curls and lips painted a deep red, but what was interesting was they work masks that concealed half their face. Literal poles were scattered throughout the place, a barmaid and bartender maned two bars on either side of the place, both busy; sofas and booth seats surrounded some of the poles, paritions in certain parts of the building.

He noticed a few heavy built men guarding certain areas, Tommy realizing they were hired help for the women.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby", a voice boomed. "What a surprise to be seeing the Peaky Blinders in my establishment!"

Y/N ran the red lipstick over her lips, smacking her lips together to get the the color saturated onto her lips. The eyelash extensions she had glued on for the evening tying the whole look together as she made sure to careful wipe away any excess around her mouth just as the boss came in.

"Ladies", she boomed, "We got some big customers outside. Make sure to put on your best performances!"

Cherry Johnson was their boss, she was a woman of a tall stature with a loud, booming voice that commanded respect. But she was a good boss, always fair to them and making sure they were safe, she only had them dance or perform lap dances, never forcing them to go any further.

Cherry came over to her as Y/N was about to fix the mask on, "Y/N, do you mind taking on a particular client here?"

"What client?" she asked as she adjusted the mask and tied the ribbon to secure it.

She saw Cherry grin in the mirror, "Thomas Shelby. Told him I'd send him only the best of my girls."

Everyone had heard of Thomas Shelby, of the Peaky Blinders so she looked at Cherry with a little frown, her lips curled a little.

"He's an obvious big tipper, darling", Cherry said, Y/N sighed.

"Fine", Y/N said as she adjusted her corset. "But he better know the rules."

Cherry grinned even bigger if that was even possible.

Y/N waited behind the curtain, pushing her hair behind her shoulders as she waited for her arrival to be announced. They switched dancers every hour or so, changing sets and outfits, working the floor and private dances. She noticed that her two other co-workers, Babydoll and Lovely, were up next with her on the big stage.

"Hey there, Little Darling", Lovely said with a grin. "Heard the boss gave you some big fish to entertain."

"I just hope he isn't stingy with the tips", Y/N said as she heard Cherry begin to announce them.

"Look alive, ladies", Babydoll teased, "it's showtime."

Tommy leaned back in the plush velvet chair that was in front of the large stage, Arthur and John on either side of him as he inspected the area. Cherry, the boss, had told him that she was sending one of her best girls to dance for them, the crowd favorite, but Cherry had told him the rules and the biggest one was 'no touching'.

"Next up we got Lovely, Babydoll and your favorite... Little Darling!" Cherry announced to the eager crowd.

Tommy put his cigarette between his lips as he noticed the anticipation in John and Arthur, the eagerness in their bodies; Tommy wondered where Esme thought John was as she came out, a intricate corset and stockings piece with a garter on one plush thigh adorned her body. Pinned curls framed her masked face with those blood red, plump lips and sultry, bedroom lidded eyes that were just calling to him.

He didn't even notice his brothers be captivated by her or the other two dancers as she approached the pole, a sensual dance performed in front of him as she moved in a way he had never witnessed before. He noticed other patrons throwing... pounds? at them, the women sensually grabbing the bills and stuffing them into the attire.

"C'mon Tommy", John said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a little. "Let loose a little already."

His brothers were throwing notes onto the stage, Little Darling making a show of grabbing them and stuffing them into the corset with a wink. She was like a seductress on the stage, moving with the music, performing acrobatic moves on the pole, it amazed him so as he light another cigarette and placed it in his mouth, he reached into his inner coat pocket, grabbing some bills into his hand.

Little Darling gave him a seductive smile, moving from the pole and getting to her knees, begin to crawl towards him till she reached the end of the stage where he was; she tilted her head a little before she leaned forward, making a show of grabbing his hand that held the bills and guiding it to stuffing the bills into the front of her corset where her tits were.

She winked at him before blowing him a kiss.

Y/N made a good amount of money from her dancing on the stage, counting the pounds that were thrown before passing it to Cherry to take her part.

"Good show out there, N/N", Cherry said, handing her back the money she earned. "You got a private dance with a Mr. Shelby."

Y/N nodded, rolling her shoulders back before making sure her makeup was still good before heading to one of the private rooms.

Walking into one of the private rooms, she saw him there; the dimly light room only seemed to work in the man's favor, adding to the feeling of danger that already existed in the room. He had his cap off, it resting on one of the side tables in the room as he blew out a smoke of nicotine from his lips.

"Cherry tells me you're called Little Darling", Tommy said as she closed the door behind her.

"I am", she answered as she slowly walked towards them.

"Quite the performance you put on."

She moved to straddle his lap, draping her arms his shoulders with a lazy grin on her face.

"I could see you enjoyed it, very much."

She stared into his piercing blue eyes, she could see the lust swirling in his eyes as she begun to move her hips.

[angelofthenight]

Alfie, to Tommy: Ur in (y/n)’s dms, I’m on google looking for nutrient rich soil I’d keep them in if they were a worm. We are not the same

[aspenmissing]

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ -

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ, ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ, ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ, ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ, ᴊɪɴx (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ, ᴠɪ, ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ, ᴄᴀɪᴛᴠɪ, ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ, ᴇᴋᴋᴏ, ᴍᴇʟ, ᴍᴇʟᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ

ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ -

ꜱᴀᴍ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴄᴀꜱᴛɪᴇʟ ɴᴏᴠᴀᴋ, ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪᴇʟ, ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ᴋʟɪɴᴇ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ɢᴀʙʀɪᴇʟ, ʟᴜᴄɪꜰᴇʀ, ᴄʀᴏᴡʟᴇʏ, ʀᴏᴡᴇɴᴀ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ -

ʀɪᴄᴋ ɢʀɪᴍᴇꜱ, ᴅᴀʀʏʟ ᴅɪxᴏɴ, ʀɪᴄᴋʟʏ, ɴᴇɢᴀɴ ꜱᴍɪᴛʜ, ɢʟᴇɴɴ ʀʜᴇᴇ, ᴍᴀɢɢɪᴇ ɢʀᴇᴇɴᴇ

ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ᴍɪɴᴅꜱ -

ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇ��ᴅ, ᴀᴀʀᴏɴ ʜᴏᴛᴄʜɴᴇʀ, ᴇᴍɪʟʏ ᴘʀᴇɴᴛɪꜱꜱ, ᴅᴀᴠɪᴅ ʀᴏꜱꜱɪ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ᴅᴇʀᴇᴋ ᴍᴏʀɢᴀɴ

ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴ -

ʀʜᴀᴇɴᴇʏʀᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ, ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏɢᴇɴ, ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ, ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ , ᴀᴇɢᴏɴ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ, ᴄʀᴇɢᴀɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ

ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜʀᴏɴᴇꜱ -

ᴊᴏɴ ꜱɴᴏᴡ, ʀᴏʙʙ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ, ᴛʏʀɪᴏɴ ʟᴀɴɴɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴊᴀᴍɪᴇ ʟᴀɴɴɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴅᴀᴇɴᴇʀʏꜱ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ, ᴛʜᴇᴏɴ ɢʀᴇʏᴊᴏʏ, ʙʀɪᴇɴɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴀʀᴛʜ, ʀᴀᴍꜱᴀʏ ʙᴏʟᴛᴏɴ

ʟᴀᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ -

ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʙᴇɴꜱᴏɴ, ᴅᴏᴍɪɴɪᴄᴋ "ꜱᴏɴɴʏ" ᴄᴀʀɪꜱɪ ᴊʀ, ʀᴀꜰᴀᴇʟ ʙᴀʀʙᴀ, ʙᴀʀɪꜱɪ, ᴀᴍᴀɴᴅᴀ ʀᴏʟʟɪɴꜱ, ɴɪᴄᴋ ᴀᴍᴀʀᴏ, ᴅᴇᴄʟᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ, ᴍɪᴋᴇ ᴅᴏᴅᴅꜱ, ᴛᴇʀʀʏ ʙʀᴜɴᴏ

ʜᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ (ᴛᴠ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ) -

ʜᴀɴɴʙᴀʟ ʟᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴡɪʟʟ ɢʀᴀʜᴀᴍ, ʜᴀɴɴɪɢʀᴀᴍ, ꜰʀᴇᴅʀɪᴄᴋ ᴄʜɪʟᴛᴏɴ

ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ -

ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ, ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʜᴀʀʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ, ꜱᴛᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ, ​🇯​​🇮​​🇲​ ​🇭​​🇴​​🇵​​🇵​​🇪​​🇷​, ʙɪʟʟʏ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴏᴠᴇ, ɴᴀɴᴄʏ ᴡʜᴇᴇʟᴇʀ, ʀᴏʙɪɴ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ, ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ ʙʏᴇʀꜱ

ᴄꜱɪ (ᴍɪᴀᴍɪ/ʟᴀꜱ ᴠᴇɢᴀꜱ) -

ɢɪʟ ɢʀɪꜱꜱᴏᴍ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ɴɪᴄᴋ ꜱᴛᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ɢʀᴇɢ ꜱᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱ, ᴅᴀᴠɪᴅ ʜᴏᴅɢᴇꜱ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ʜᴇɴʀʏ ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴡꜱ, ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴇ ᴊᴏʜɴꜱᴏɴ, ᴅ.ʙ. ʀᴜꜱꜱᴇʟʟ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ᴍᴏʀɢᴀɴ ʙʀᴏᴅʏ, ᴛɪᴍ ꜱᴘᴇᴇᴅʟᴇ, ʀʏᴀɴ ᴡᴏʟꜰᴇ

ɴᴄɪꜱ -

ʟᴇʀᴏʏ ᴊᴇᴛʜʀᴏ ɢɪʙʙꜱ, ᴀʙʙʏ ꜱᴄɪᴜᴛᴏ, ᴛɪᴍᴏᴛʜʏ ᴍᴄɢᴇᴇ, ᴀɴᴛʜᴏɴʏ ᴅɪɴᴏᴢᴢᴏ

ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴡʜᴏ -

10ᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, 11ᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, 12ᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, 13ᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ꜱᴘʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ, ʀɪᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴏɴɢ, ᴄʟᴀʀᴀ ᴏꜱᴡᴀʟᴅ

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ -

ʙɪʟʟʏ ʙᴜᴛᴄʜᴇʀ, ʜᴜɢʜɪᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴘʙᴇʟʟ, Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴇᴠᴇ, ʜᴏᴍᴇʟᴀɴᴅᴇʀ, ꜱᴏʟɪᴅᴇʀ ʙᴏʏ, ᴀɴɴɪᴇ ᴊᴀɴᴜᴀʀʏ

ɢʀɪᴍᴍ -

ᴍᴏɴʀᴏᴇ, ʀᴏꜱᴀʟᴇᴇ ᴄᴀʟᴠᴇʀᴛ, ᴍᴏɴᴀʟᴇᴇ, ɴɪᴄᴋ ʙᴜʀᴄᴋʜᴀʀᴅᴛ, ꜱᴇᴀɴ ʀᴇɴᴀʀᴅ, ᴛʀᴜʙᴇʟ

ɢᴏᴛʜᴀᴍ -

ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴇꜱᴋᴀ, ᴊᴇʀᴇᴍɪᴀʜ ᴠᴀʟᴇꜱᴋᴀ, ᴏꜱᴡᴀʟᴅ ᴄᴏʙʙʟᴇᴘᴏᴛ, ᴊɪᴍ ɢᴏʀᴅᴏɴ, ʜᴀʀᴠᴇʏ ʙᴜʟʟᴏᴄᴋ, ꜰɪꜱʜ ᴍᴏᴏɴᴇʏ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ)

ᴘᴇᴀᴋʏ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇʀꜱ -

ᴛᴏᴍᴍʏ ꜱʜᴇʟʙʏ, ᴊᴏʜɴ ꜱʜᴇʟʙʏ, ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀ ꜱʜᴇʟʙʏ, ᴀʟꜰɪᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴏᴍᴏɴꜱ, ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ -

ᴛᴀᴛᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴅᴏɴ, ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀꜱ, ᴋɪᴛ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ, ᴄᴏʀᴅᴇʟɪᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅᴇ, ᴋʏʟᴇ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ, ᴍɪꜱᴛʏ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴊɪᴍᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ, ᴅᴀɴᴅʏ ᴍᴏᴛᴛ, ᴇʟꜱᴀ ᴍᴀʀꜱ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ᴊᴏʜɴ ʟᴏᴡᴇ, ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ, ᴇʟɪᴢᴀʙᴇᴛʜ, ᴋᴀɪ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴅᴏɴ, xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ ᴘʟʏᴍᴘᴛᴏɴ

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɴꜱ -

ᴄʀᴏᴡʟᴇʏ, ᴀᴢɪʀᴀᴘʜᴀʟᴇ, ᴘᴏʟʏ

ʀᴇᴅ ᴅᴡᴀʀꜰ -

ᴀʀɴᴏʟᴅ ʀɪᴍᴍᴇʀ, ᴅᴀᴠᴇ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴄᴀᴛ, ᴀᴄᴇ ʀɪᴍᴍᴇʀ

ꜱɴᴏᴡᴘɪᴇʀᴄᴇʀ -

ᴊᴏꜱᴇᴘʜ ᴡɪʟꜰᴏʀᴅ, ʙᴇꜱꜱ ᴛɪʟʟ, ᴀʟᴇxᴀɴᴅʀᴀ ᴄᴀᴠɪʟʟ, ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴀᴜᴅʀᴇʏ, ʙᴇɴɴᴇᴛ ᴋɴᴏx, ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴏꜱᴡᴇɪʟʟᴇʀ, ᴊᴀᴠɪᴇʀ ᴅᴇ ʟᴀ ᴛᴏʀʀᴇ, ʙᴏᴊᴀɴ ʙᴏꜱᴄᴏᴠɪᴄ

2/ʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ -

ᴊᴏᴇʟ ᴍɪʟʟᴇʀ (ᴘᴇᴅʀᴏ ᴘᴀꜱᴄᴀʟ), ꜱʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇꜱ, ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀɪᴀʀᴛʏ, ʟᴜᴄɪꜰᴇʀ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱᴛᴀʀ, ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ "ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴅᴍᴀɴ"