GIRL, IF YOU DO THE LATTER DON'T LET ME CATCH YOU I SWEAR TO GOD

We missed you 💋

Lol thanks

Source - Facebook

Peaky Blinders Close up

I'm comfy on this one, thanks. Let me know beforehand if you'd want to accuse me of something I haven't done once again, at least I'll have a clue this time.

Happy holidays 🎄🥳

Every three months, the ritual starts again.

Last night I made this. Because of reasons...

Big Bad Wolf & Little Lamb: Lesson 1. (C.M)

Synopsis: You met Maeve, your best friend, in College and over the years you have become two peas in a pod. Maeve decided to invite you back to her hometown in Ireland for the summer break and that’s where you met her dad, Cillian.

Warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD. Age Gap, (all legal of age), Corruption kink, Innocent! reader, Cillian’s massive tease, Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Cillian teaches the reader EVERYTHING. Virgin! Reader, inexperienced! Reader

Chapter warnings: sexual corruption, innocent reader, age gap, dom/sub, masturbation, voyeurism, sudden panty sniffing?

Disclaimer: THIS IS FICTION AND IT IS NOT REAL LIFE.

A/N: Cillian looks like Lenny Miller in this fic!

.

After months of planning, Maeve finally convinced me to come visit her countryside hometown during the summer break. As I stepped off the plane, the fresh Irish air filled my lungs, and the friendly smiles of the folks at the airport greeted me. Maeve was waiting for me outside, and she looked more radiant than ever in the warm Irish sunshine.

"You made it!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me in a tight, familiar hug. I laughed, returning the embrace, and then we picked up my bags and made our way towards her car. As we drove out of the airport, the familiar countryside views and winding roads brought a sense of tranquility and anticipation for the adventure ahead.

Maeve chatted excitedly about all the things she wanted to show me – the breathtaking coastlines, charming villages, local festivals and hidden gems. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation for the adventures ahead.

As we drove, Maeve filled me in on her family situation. "You'll love my dad," she enthused. "His name's Cillian – he's a bit of a character, but he's a total softie at heart. My parents are divorced, so it's just the two of us."

“Is he a scary person?” I asked quietly. I don’t deal with strangers too well, and I am not exactly a friendly person. Not because I don’t want to, it is because I am socially anxious. When me and Maeve first met, she was the one who came up to me to pair for a group assignment. “I don’t want to bother him, that’s all”

Maeve chuckled, noticing the slight hint of trepidation on my face. "Don't worry," she said. "My dad's a sweetheart, I promise. He might seem intimidating at first – he's a big, well not really in height but in size, burly Irishman – but he's the gentlest person you'll ever meet."

“I hope he likes me, so we can stay friends” Maeve suddenly pinched my cheeks as I flushed at the gesture.

“Why are you such a cutie, Y/N!”

“I’m not!”

"Oh, he'll love you," Maeve reassured me, patting my knee. "He's always excited to meet my friends. Just be yourself, and you'll win him over in no time."

As we approached Maeve's home, I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Meeting a friend's parent was always a nerve-wracking experience, and the fact that it was Maeve's dad – a man she clearly loved and respected – made it all the more intimidating.

“Why do I feel like I’m meeting your dad to have his permission to marry you” Maeve burst out laughing as she nodded in agreement. There was really nothing to be afraid off, but since I was a generally anxious, I couldn’t help it.

Maeve must have sensed my nerves because she squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You got this," she murmured, as we walked up the cobblestone pathway towards the front door.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped into the cozy, welcoming home of Maeve's childhood. The sound of a friendly dog barking greeted us from the other room, and a moment later, an imposing figure strode into the hallway.

As Cillian stepped into the hallway to greet us, I couldn't help but internally gasp at his sheer presence. He was beautiful, with broad shoulders and a rugged, masculine air about him. His eyes were a light, piercing blue, and his dark hair was speckled with flecks of silver.

"Hello there, you must be Y/N," He said, his voice deep and gravelly. He smiled warmly, and I noticed the lines at the corners of his eyes, hinting at years of laughter and experience. “Maeve told me a lot about you, I’m pleased to have you here, love. Make yourself at home”

I felt shivers ran down my spine the minute I heard him talk, his voice was deep and smooth just like how you would feel drinking an expensive espresso if that’s how I could describe it. It’s a stupid comparison to say the least, but it is true.

I couldn’t even meet his eyes to greet him back, but I didn’t want to seem rude so I quickly glanced at him and for some reason bowed slightly, as I quietly replied, “Nice to meet you, Sir”

Cillian chuckled at my timid response, the sound rumbling deep in his chest like distant thunder. "No need to be nervous, lassie," he said, his accent thick and lilting. "I don't bite."

Maeve laughed as she gently nudged me, I stayed quiet still, “Sorry dad, she’s generally like this”

“It’s alright” I heard him respond. I didn’t know how to describe it but someone I can feel his gaze burning holes into me, as if he was studying me from the top of my head until the bottoms of my feet, “Well, why don’t both of you settle in. Maeve, get the darling settled into the guest bedroom, will you”

Maeve excitedly pulls me upstairs, as I followed her. However, I felt like I needed to take a last glance at Cillian and when I looked back,

He was already looking right at me.

My heart pounded in my chest as I quickly averted my gaze from him, running along with Maeve. Cillian on the other hand, I couldn’t read his expression. He wasn’t smiling, nor did he looked angry. He just stared at me with this look on his face that I couldn’t exactly describe.

“How old is your dad?” I asked, curious of his age since his appearance looks quite youthful for his age.

“He is 47, why?” Maeve replied absentmindedly, helping me unpacked all of my clothes and putting them in the closet.

“Nothing, I’m just curious” I muttered, as I joined her.

Maeve suddenly stopped what she was doing, “You don’t have a crush on my dad now, do you?” She pointed out, accusingly.

My eyes widened as I violently shook my head, “No! What are you talking about?!”

“Okay good, I trust you” I raised my brows at her, “It’s just that most of my friends fancies him, that’s all. The most disgusting thing is they keep trying to make advances towards my dad. I don’t know what they see in him, ugh” Maeve cringed as her whole body shook as if she was shuddering.

“N-No, you know I would never do that to you” In someways, saying that seemed wrong.

“I know. Out of all my friends you are the only ‘good’ ones and I’m pretty sure you won’t try to fuck my dad”

“That’s crazy, Maeve. Did any of your friends tried to do that?”

“Trust me, most of them do. But whenever they do, my dad just tells me to never invite them over again” I nodded, not replying anything to her story.

Of course, I wouldn’t do that to Maeve. Hell, I wouldn’t even touch any men with a ten-foot pole. Not that I’ve had anyone taking their interest in me, I was mostly too focused on my studies to even notice. All my life, it had always been about studying and succeeding and it wasn’t even because of peer pressure from my family, it’s just because I really enjoyed it.

So even if somebody liked me, I wouldn’t want to do anything with it.

.

After a few hours of catching up, the house grew quiet as night fell outside. I laid in bed for a while, but eventually, my thirst got the better of me. Quietly, I got up and crept downstairs, not wanting to wake anyone.

The house was silent as I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, flicking on the light.

As I poured myself a glass of water, I heard a faint shuffling sound from another room. Curiosity getting the better of me, I turned to see a dim light coming from the living room. Peering through the door, I saw Cillian sitting in an armchair, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked up, seeing me standing in the doorway. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Having trouble sleeping?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room.

I blushed, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught. "Just got thirsty," I said, holding up my water glass sheepishly.

I was just about to turn and go back upstairs, but Cillian's voice halted me. "Come sit for a spell," he said, gesturing to the armchair opposite his. "It's lonely drinking alone."

I wanted to reject his offer but it would have seemed rude and I didn’t want to make that impression of being Maeve’s best friend.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of shyness and curiosity. Finally, I padded into the room, settling into the armchair across from Cillian. The light from the side lamp cast a warm glow on his features, making them look even more rugged and handsome.

Cillian took a slow sip of his whiskey, studying me from across the room. "So, Y/N, tell me about yourself," he said, leaning back in his chair. His gaze was intense, but not unkind.

“Um... There’s not really much to talk about... I’m not an interesting person” For some reason, speaking to him made my voice slower, as if I was scared of him. But I wasn’t, I was merely nervous about his presence.

“I think you are... Maeve told me you’re a great student” Cillian imposed, “She told me about how good you are in school”

My eyes widened slightly, “So basically Maeve told you I’m a nerd?” I groaned quietly, there was a small part of me that wanted him to think I was cool which was pathetic.

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head, “I’m not sure being a nerd is a bad thing, love. I think it’s great” He smirked.

There it is again, the pet names. The pet names made me feel butterflies in my tummy like a stupid school girl who has a crush on their teacher.

“It just means you are dedicated to your studies and I admire that, I’m glad Maeve became friends with someone like you” I muttered a silent ‘thanks’ at his statement but I didn't really know what to say afterward. There was a deafening silence between the two of us, I just sat in front of him quietly as I kept drinking my water. I was looking at the fireplace as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. However, the hairs on the back of my neck kept standing up because I knew Cillian was staring at me intently, his gaze never breaking from my figure.

There he goes again, looking at me as if he was studying me.

“Are you scared of me, darling?” Cillian broke the silence, making you jump slightly when you heard his voice. “You won’t even look me in the eyes”

I blushed heavily, caught off guard by his direct question. I had been trying to avoid looking directly at him, feeling intimidated by his intense gaze. I stammered a bit before finally meeting his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice sounding small in the quiet room. "I don't mean to be rude, it's just... you're kind of intimidating."

“Am I, now?” I nodded in response, still not looking at him. “Look at me while you are talking to me before I make you”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the change in his tone. I looked up to meet his gaze, my heart beat quickening. His eyes seemed to pierce through me, their deep blue hue holding me captive.

“There you go, darlin’,” Cillian said, his voice softer now. “It’s not so hard, is it?” He took another sip of his whiskey, studying me over the rim of his glass.

“No,” I muttered, unable to look away from his piercing gaze. “It’s just...you’re so intense." My voice was barely above a whisper.

Cillian hummed, “You know, the previous girls Maeve brought home they weren’t so scared of me”

I blinked, surprised by his comment. "They weren't?" I asked, feeling a pang of self-consciousness. "Is it a bad thing that I am slightly intimidated by you?”

“No...” For some reason, Cillian had stood up from his armchair, walking towards me with the whiskey glass still in his hands. Cillian walked over to the empty side of the sofa I was sitting in and took a seat. With every step he took, I could feel my heart beating faster and faster.

I couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness as he approached me, his large form seeming even more imposing in the intimate space of the living room. He settled in beside me on the sofa, his thigh mere inches from mine.

I could feel his warmth radiating from his body, and the scent of his cologne filled my senses. I tried to remain calm, taking slow, deep breaths to steady my racing heart.

“Every time she brought them over, I felt like throwing them out. It seems like their parents don’t teach them...” He paused before taking a sip of his whiskey, “...Manners”

I felt a lump form in my throat, feeling a mix of shame and fear. I knew I hadn't been very good at hiding my timid behavior, and now it seemed like I was being called out for it.

"I...I'm sorry," I mumbled, still unable to tear my gaze away from his intense eyes. "I'll try to be better."

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He muttered, my face burned even hotter at his words. I was used to being called ‘good’ by my parents or my teachers, but coming from Cillian’s mouth, it sounded different, deeper, and more intimate.

I fidgeted slightly under his gaze, feeling both flustered and strangely drawn to him.

"Thanks..." I murmured, not quite sure how to respond. I took a sip of my forgotten water, trying to hide my shaky hands. The silence stretched out between us, and I could feel Cillian’s gaze still on me, studying me intently.

"You're different from the other girls Maeve brought home," he said suddenly, his voice seeming to echo through the quiet room. "I can see it in your eyes, you've got a hint of...timidity."

I felt embarrassed at his accurate observation, but there was something else in his tone that made me shiver. Was it mockery, or was there a hint of something different? I couldn't quite tell.

I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak. I could feel his gaze on me, like a physical weight against my skin. I fidgeted with the hem of my t-shirt, feeling strangely out of sorts.

"There's nothing wrong with a little bit of timidity," he said, his voice a low rumble. “But a girl like you...you'll need someone to bring you out of your shell, teach you how to be brave.”

“What do you mean by that Sir?” I suddenly got curious. Cillian took a deep breath, realizing how innocent I was.

‘How can you not know what he was trying to do?’ He thought to himself.

“Call me Cillian for now my love, save the honorifics somewhere else, yeah?” Cillian was hinting at me but of course, I didn’t know the context of his words. “I’m sure you can call me, Sir... Sometime in the future”

“What do you mean?” I repeated the same question again, it seemed like Cillian was speaking words with double meanings that I could just not understand.

“If you keep calling me that, I might do something that I’ve been dying to do since you walked into my house, pet”

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. I had never called anyone 'Sir' before, but something in the way Cillian said it made me shiver. I felt torn between my natural nervous nature and a strange, unexpected curiosity at the thought of submitting to him.

“O-Okay, I’m sorry Cillian...”

“How are you such a good girl, hmm? You listen to everything I say”

I felt a flutter of flattery at his words, and a small part of me liked the way ‘good girl’ sounded coming from his mouth.

"I try to be... respectful," I mumbled, feeling a bit self-conscious. "It's how my parents raised me, I guess."

Cillian chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Your parents raised you well," he said, his eyes never leaving me. "They taught you how to listen, how to behave. But have they ever taught you how to be disobedient?"

“N-No... I never had to”

Cillian hummed in acknowledgement, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smirk. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "You've always done what you're told, haven't you, darlin'? Never questioned it, not even for a second?"

I nodded, feeling a bit bashful under his intense gaze. "I...I guess so..." I mumbled, fidgeting with my fingers. "I don't like making waves. It's just...easier to follow the rules, you know?"

Cillian chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine once again. "You're a rule-follower," he said, his tone almost amused. "You always do what you're told, never rock the boat, yeah? But deep down, darlin', don't you ever wonder what it would be like to be a little... mischievous?"

As he said that, I noticed he sat closer and closer to me. His arms rested on the back of the sofa and I felt myself getting smaller. I gripped the glass in my hands tightly as I decided to set it on the coffee table before I actually break it.

I felt myself becoming increasingly aware of my own small, trembling form. It was like I was being swallowed up by Cillian's presence, his large frame dominating the space between us. I fidgeted with the hem of my t-shirt, trying to keep my hands from shaking too visibly.

“I-I don’t know... I’ve never had the thought of it I guess...” I responded as he smirked.

“Tell me now, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I’ve never had one” I felt my heart skip a beat at his question. It was such a personal, direct question, and coming from Cillian's mouth, it felt oddly intimate. I blushed heavily and shook my head, feeling a mix of shyness and... something else I couldn't quite identify.

"No boyfriend, huh?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "A pretty thing like you, I'm surprised." He shifted slightly, his body moving even closer to mine on the sofa, “That’s good”

Cillian’s hand suddenly went up to my neck as he brushed over the loose strand of hair that fell on my shoulder, his fingers lingered on my skin as it tingled and sent shivers down my spine.

“C-Cillian?” I gasped as his hand brushed against my neck, my skin tingling at his touch. His fingers lingered on my bare skin, igniting a strange sensation that sent shivers down my spine. I suddenly felt very conscious of our proximity, his body so close to mine on the sofa.

“Have you ever touched your pussy, sweetheart?” At that moment, my heart dropped at the sudden vulgarity that he had. It was such a crude word, crass, anything to describe how bad it sounded coming out of his mouth. I was speechless and I couldn’t even focus on what to say since Cillian's hand still lingered on my neck as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper. “You like that, darlin’?” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “Feel that... shiver running down your spine? Your skin’s already got goosebumps, yeah? I can see them. All over your neck, your arms…even your chest”

It was a feeling I had never felt before in my life. Something coiling deep in my gut as I felt myself clenching my thighs due to my... Private parts... Pulsating, at his words, his voice, everything about him.

Cillian looked down as he scoffed, noticing how my thighs kept clenching, his hands lowered down to my thighs as he tried keeping them apart. I did nothing to stop him.

Deep down, I knew how wrong it was for my best friend’s father to be touching me like this. But I couldn’t help it, I felt scared and maybe... Maybe I liked it. But I was scared of what he was going to do if I imposed, we were already in too deep and I felt like there’s nothing I can do.

However, there is. I could’ve stopped it... I just didn’t want to.

“Answer my question and be a good girl. Have you ever touched your pretty little pussy, darling?” I whimpered silently as his fingers began to roam closer to my inner thighs. I clamped his hand after feeling an unfamiliar gush of wetness flowing out of my core, “Keep your fucking legs open, alright?”

Cillian growled and I immediately spread my legs wider than before, “That’s a good girl” His voice turned soft once again. “Now, what did I ask you?”

“I’ve never touched myself... Down there, before...” I closed my eyes, breathing heavily as I felt like the feeling in my core was starting to become more and more painful.

Cillian hummed deeply, his fingers growing dangerously closer and closer to my pussy, and the next thing I knew, his hands completely touched my pussy over my shorts. Instinctively, I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“What if Maeve finds out?”

“She sleeps like a log, the world could be ending and she won’t even wake up” Cillian muttered, pulling my hand off of his wrist, “I won’t tell if you won’t... I know how much of a good girl you are and you promise me you would keep those pretty little mouths shut?”

I simply nodded. I don’t know what possessed me to be so obedient to whatever was happening. Normally, I would have run away catching the next flight home, and never returned. However, Cillian was making me desperate, desperate to know what was going to happen next.

“I’m going to take off these cute shorts, alright?” I nodded once again, listening to everything he said as if I was under a spell. He took off my shorts as he pushed my legs apart. He was greeted with a sight, so wet, my underwear was soaked and I didn’t even realize it, “Pretty little thing...”

His index finger softly tapped the pulsating tiny bump, as I jolted in his grasp. I whimpered, raising my hips, asking for more.

“Such a fucking desperate slut” He groaned as he continued to rub circles on my clit, at this point I was writhing underneath him, my underwear getting wetter and wetter by the second. I would usually be offended if someone had called me such a degrading name but coming from him, it only made me want more, “Lean on me”

Cillian had instructed me to lean on his chest, my back close to him as he had his arms around me.

“I’m gonna teach you something, baby” I blushed at the new pet name he came up with, “I’m gonna teach you to touch yourself and I want to see you do it”

“O-Okay...” Cillian took my right hand and placed it on my sopping cunt, he pointed out my index finger as he slowly starts to rub circles on my clit. I whimpered almost too loudly as my left hand immediately covered my mouth. “C-Cillian! It feels nice!”

“I know, pet... Just keep doing it yeah, you’re gonna feel better once you cum” He encouraged, his eyes never leaving my writhing figure above him. I could feel something hard poking at the low of my back, it was hot and throbbing. “Fuck, so fucking pretty. The prettiest I have ever seen”

I was too focused on touching myself, drowning myself in the sensation to notice Cillian had my underwear in his left hand, burying his nose in the center as he took in the sweet and musky scent, his tongue darting out to taste the juice that previously leaked out to the material.

“Put a finger in and ram it inside, the faster you do it the better it feels” Cillian demanded, as if he was getting impatient, he took my finger once again directed it to my entrance, and shoved it in.

I was no longer whimpering, I was now moaning so loud I didn’t even care anymore. Cillian didn’t give me time to adjust, he just completely rammed it in and out at a fast pace that I couldn’t even catch up, he was doing it all on his own but with my own fingers.

“C-Cillian! I feel funny, please! Please, stop! I feel like I’m going to pee!” Cillian scoffed at the statement, he knew I was close to cumming but I didn’t know that. Instead, he taunted me, going even faster if it was even possible. He then placed his left hand on my lower tummy and pressed down hard. “No! No! No! Stop!”

“Cum. Fucking cum right now!” As if on queue, I cummed all over his hands, liquid gushing out of my hole rapidly as I cried out, the feeling of my first orgasm overwhelming me. Something I have never felt before. My whole body shook and twitched violently above him as I cried out, feeling tears of pleasure well up in my eyes. “That’s a good fucking girl, such a good girl for me...”

On my lower behind I felt a wet spot, indicating Cillian had also come undone in his pants. Cillian was as shocked as you because no woman could make him cum without touching him.

“You’re going to be the death of me” Cillian cursed as his fingers dipped into your entrance and I jolted in shock and overstimulation. His fingers went up to his mouth as he sucked all of the juices seeping out of my throbbing cunt, “Fucking delicious”

“C-Cillian... I can’t walk...” He laughed deeply, as he swiftly carried me and stood up from the couch.

“I’ll get my princess nice and clean, yeah?”

As he walked up towards my guest bedroom, carrying me without a problem, I could feel my thighs shaking as an aftermath.

“Cillian, are you gonna do those things to me again?” I stared at him with watery eyes, all fucked out from before, hopefully asking him.

“I’m gonna do more than that, sweetheart” Cillian paused as he opened the bedroom door, he placed me on top of the bed as hovered over my body, “I’m gonna fucking ruin you”

I will remove anyone from my life to protect the peace that I've worked so hard for. Nobody took me out of the dark. I did it on my own.

Unknown

I found out about the PSA just now I read the whole thread and there's.... No pictures, screenshots or anything???? Just ppl talking

Not much I can do about it but yeah

I actually can't stop thinking about how the losing party last election dressed like vikings and tried to break into the white house and the losing party this election are sharing suicide prevention hotlines

I love taste of shame!! Genuinely a bit sinister and very suspenseful ... i have no idea what Thomas wants but the road to get there and figure it out has been and will continue to be so good im sure!! Thank u for writing

Thank you so much! Means a lot! Working on it😊

Take It on the Run Pt. 2 | Thomas Shelby x Fem!OC

summary: Tommy keeps coming back to the cabaret but you never know why. Sometimes he stays but usually he doesn't, leaving his cigarette still smoking on the table. His flighty behavior and emotional unavailability starts to rub you the wrong way, but you can't bring yourself to hate him... but maybe you should.

warnings: outdated language concerning sex-workers; smut

word count: 4142k

Do I Move You?- Nina Simone 🎵

Daylight- David Kushner 🎶

Tommy Shelby told you that the cabaret “wasn’t his… thing” just a week ago and yet, when you begin your solo routine in a cream and sheer bodysuit, guess who’s sitting at that familiar table? You’re singing your song when you notice him, leaning back in his chair and holding a lit cigarette between his knuckles. His cheekbones are cast in an aggressive shadow but you can still make out his icy blue eyes looking back at you. 

You meet his gaze and match his neutral expression. You hadn’t expected to see him again after that night, maybe once or twice in passing but not here. You curse silently in your head and continue singing, feeling more self-conscious than usual beneath the hot stage lights. You can see his eyes pass over you though he makes no show of his thoughts when he takes another drag of his cigarette. 

Your song finally comes to an end and the crowd cheers with wolf whistles. Tommy doesn’t even clap, he stares at you for another moment and then stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. He downs the rest of his whiskey and stands, and leaves. You watch his back as he walks through the doors of the cabaret and doesn’t look back. Suddenly, you feel like a little girl, standing alone on the stage in a room full of strangers. 

…

After the cabaret closes, you go back onstage to grab your jar of tips. The house lights are dimmed, practically off. The rudimentary electricity flickers every few seconds, stimulating a migraine the longer you look. Your bare feet make no noise as you walk across the sticky stage. The sound of a lighter flicking open sounds from somewhere in the audience, revealing a cut-angular face and a peaky cap. The lighter snaps shut and a cigarette ends burns red in the dark. 

“Sorry I didn’t stay- had important business to attend to,” Tommy stands from his seat and drops his lighter into his breast pocket. He looks you up and down, smirking slightly at what you look like after the show. 

“Were you waiting for me?” You ask, not sure whether to be flattered or afraid. 

“I thought I’d congratulate you on a good performance,” Tommy shrugs and weaves between the tables with the chairs upturned on their tops. 

“You didn’t look like you enjoyed it,” you banter back and move closer to the lip of the stage. Tommy waves his hand in a dismissive fashion, scoffing. 

“I told you, cabaret’s not really my thing.” 

“Right,” you nod and come to the edge of the stage. Tommy stands just below you, his face coming up to your hips from his position on the floor. He looks up at you, tilting his head to the side as he looks you over. Your bodysuit is revealing, barely covering your tits and cunt. He twists his mouth slightly in an expression that almost looks like anger- jealousy. 

“Nice costume,” Tommy mutters and takes a long drag from his cigarette. You don’t respond so you both fall into a tense silence until he speaks again. “So you said you live here. Is that right?” 

You nod and point backstage. “Back there. Just me and the other girls. We all have rooms back there.” 

“Is that where you take all the men?” Tommy asks, gesturing with his cigarette. 

“Jealous are we?” You tease. Tommy looks away and shakes his head once. 

“Don’t.” His voice is stern and sharp. You know you’ve touched a nerve and you smile softly, biting your lip and looking down at your feet. 

“It’s affordable and safe here with the other girls… that’s why I live here.” You answer finally and Tommy looks back at your face, studying you. 

“Safe?” He asks softly, his judgmental brow raised. 

“It’s safer than walking home alone every night after the cabaret closes.” You elaborate, gesturing loosely to the streets of Birmingham right outside the cabaret walls. “Anyway, I’ve been here for five years now- I started sometime after the war. You get used to it pretty quickly.” 

Tommy clenches his jaw, silently counting the number of male clients you might have entertained in your time here. He takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair, exhaling tightly. 

“Sounds like a lonely life,” he says at last and you shrug. 

“So does yours.” 

Tommy looks back up at you with cold, annoyed eyes. He sets his cap back on his head and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“Yeah? And what do you know about my life?” 

“Nothing, I can just tell.” You tilt your head to the side, looking at him intently. Tommy falters beneath your direct eye contact and bristles. 

“Really?” He asks, his tone hard, “how?” 

You crouch down on the lip of the stage so that you’re face to face with Tommy. You take his left hand and hold it with his palm facing you. 

“No wedding ring, so you’re not married. You’re a criminal, so you struggle to trust others which is why you usually work alone. And… you came here. What were you looking for if not for a distraction?” Your eyes look between his. He scowls, pissed that you can see through him- or at least that you’re saying it aloud. 

“Very observant,” Tommy says coldly. 

“It’s part of the job, you have to know what the men need from you…” 

Tommy keeps his face neutral but his eyes leave your face, flicking to the side before going back to your face. His jaw is tight.

“And what is it that I need?” He asks slowly, dangerously. You look at him for a little while longer and then shake your head. 

“I don’t know…” you admit. You look down at his hand and turn it around in your hands. Tommy looks down at you, his brow furrows and he scoffs sarcastically. 

“Why are you holding my hand like that?” 

You look up at him and roll your eyes. “You’re mean, you know that?” 

“I’m aware,” he scoffs again and pulls his hand away. He clenches his fist and relaxes it. You laugh softly at his attitude and lean closer. 

“Why are you so mean?” 

Tommy looks you up and down, his eyes stopping briefly on your chest. Slowly, he raises his hand to your cheek and slides his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“Why do you try to get so close?” Tommy asks, his lip curled. 

“Does it scare you?” You ask softly against his thumb. 

“No, it doesn’t scare me.” His words brush against your lips like a slap. He smells richly like tobacco, and it almost makes your knees weak. You sigh and stand, stepping away from the lip of the stage. Tommy’s hand falls to his side again and he watches after you with a tilt to his head.

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby.” You whisper and grab your jar of tips. You can’t help but almost storm off the stage. Whenever you try to get closer to him, he has a way of ridiculing your feelings and affections. You don’t look back as you leave him standing in the dark cabaret. 

…

Then a few nights later, you see him again. And then again a few nights later. Those two nights he didn’t stay after or try in any way to speak to you. He’d started to just become another patron, another man that liked to watch you- fuck you, but nothing more. You couldn’t tell what he wanted or what he was thinking anymore and it started to really bother you. It’s not like you really had feelings for Thomas Shelby but you couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. As much as you hated the way he showed up and said nothing, you still loved seeing him in the audience surrounded by smoke like a veil. You knew he was there to watch you so you always tried to put on a good show in the hope that he would wait for you after. But he never did. 

Tommy was trying to avoid the Cabaret. He didn’t even have any feelings for you, not really. He was still grieving his true love and first wife, and didn’t have the ability to feel anything for anyone else. It wasn’t love that he felt for you- it was something else that he couldn’t quite put into words. He felt that you were really similar to him, that you could deeply understand one another and maybe even benefit from helping one another. But at the end of the day, you were just a cabaret dancer and Tommy didn’t need another cabaret dancer. But each time he forced himself to forget about you, he thought about your situation and the way you had spoken to him the first time he’d met you. You’d said that you wanted to be a “normal woman,” and while Tommy certainly wasn’t a normal man- maybe he could provide you with a more “normal” life. He knew he was capable of doing that, of giving you an escape from the cabaret into a life of safety, stability, and normalcy but wasn’t the idea too ridiculous to pursue? He didn’t even know you but he kept going back to the cabaret and seeing you. It made him angry to see you onstage, maybe it was jealousy but it was also knowing how much you hated the work. He knew he wasn’t a good man, but the boy he used to be was. He could do something right, something good but could he bring himself to do it?

So Tommy finds himself at the Cabaret again, sitting at his usual table, a cigarette dangling between his lips. This time when you see him sitting in the dim light of the bar, you stare him down. Tommy swallows tightly and taps his cigarette over his ashtray, watching you still. He knows what you’re trying to do. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from yours, his expression one of subtle challenge. You trail your fingers over your body starting from your pelvis up to your breasts. The whistles of the audience are lost on you, only capturing Tommy’s attention matters at that moment. His eyes follow your hands as they curve over your body and his jaw tightens. When your routine ends, he doesn’t leave, just blows out a cloud of smoke slowly. You bow and disappear backstage, a twitch of annoyance on your lip. 

Tommy flags down a waiter, one of his fists clenched at his side.

“I need you to pass a message to Diana, tell her to meet me backstage after the show tonight. Understand?” He mutters darkly and takes another drag. The young waiter, realizing who the patron is, swallows tightly and stutters. 

“Y-yes, Mr. Shelby. Anything else?” 

“No, that’ll be all.” Tommy exhales and returns his attention back to the stage. More dancers come on stage and perform but you aren’t among them this time. He downs another glass of whisky and checks his watch, the time is nearing midnight and the cabaret will be closing soon. Tommy watches from beneath his cap as patrons start to leave and waiters start busing the filthy tables. As the cabaret closes down around him, Tommy puts his cigarette between his lips and stands, sliding on his jacket. The waiter hurries over and ducks his head. 

“She’s ready for you backstage, Mr. Shelby.” 

“Alright, thank you.” He says around his cigarette and follows the man backstage through a greasy side door. 

“She’s in ‘er dressing room through there.” The waiter points to one of the doors along the thin, dim hallway. Tommy nods once again and waits for the man to leave before opening the door. 

When the door to your dressing room opens, you can’t help but jump a little. You turn around quickly, already ready for a fight. 

 “Tommy-” You start but he waves his hand through the hair, silencing you. 

“Don’t.” He says calmly and slams the door behind him. “Sit.” He points to the chair behind you. You look back at the chair, your brow furrowed. Slowly, you do as you’re told, looking up at Tommy with a hint of resentment in your eyes. 

“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?” Tommy steps closer and rubs his hands over his face, stretching the skin. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, ignoring his question. Tommy steps closer, his brow raised. He can’t exactly explain why he’s so pissed off at you and because he can’t, it makes him angrier. 

“You know damn well why I’m here,” his voice is strained and tired.

“You keep showing up, just watch me perform and leave without speaking to me. What am I supposed to think?” You protest, your voice steady in its frustration. 

Tommy smiles and laughs, shaking his head like he’s laughing at his own joke. He sniffs and clears his throat. 

“You’re a smart woman, you can figure it out.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The truth is, you don’t know why he came back this time. You assume it’s for sex and that makes you even angrier. 

“Fuck you,” you snap and Tommy chuckles, his lips curving into a smirk. He closes the distance and leans his hands on the armrests of the chair, boxing you in. His face is just above yours, his eyes more vibrant in their emotion. 

“What that mouth of yours,” he says lowly, evenly. 

“Or what?” You start, “we fucked once and then you practically disappeared. You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.” You growl. 

Tommy’s grip on the armrests tightens as he tries to swallow down the mixture of anger and lust rising in his chest. Exhaling, he grabs your chin and holds it roughly in place. 

“I said watch your mouth. I’m not some random man you can just push around.” His voice is low and dark, like a threat. 

“No,” you mock unapologetically, “your’re Thomas fucking Shelby.” As if his name even means much to you. It certainly carried some weight in and around the cabaret but you’d told him before, you don’t concern yourself with business outside of the cabaret. 

Something snaps in Tommy’s eyes and he grits his teeth. “Listen to me. I won’t tell you again. Watch your fucking mouth,” he nearly spits. 

And before you can think it through, you respond. 

“Make me.” 

With a quick movement, Tommy suddenly pulls you to your feet by your arms and pins you against the wall, your face just beneath his. He doesn’t worry about being gentle with you, in fact he hopes it hurts you a little when he does this. You gasp out a breath of air when he shoves you against the wall and holds you by your shoulders. Your eyes widen and your lips fall open in surprise. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Tommy pants, his hand coming up to hold your throat. He stares directly into your eyes as you take a breath and struggle against him, your palms beating his chest. 

“Let me go, Tommy.” You ignore his question again, pissed. 

He grabs your wrists to keep you from hitting him and pushes his weight against you. He looks down into your eyes, his gaze changing from anger into one of passion. 

“You don’t really want me to do that, do you?”

You stop thrashing and take a breath, your eyes looking between his. As much as you hate him right now, god damn his eyes are beautiful. Remembering your frustration, however, you try to speak. 

“Tommy-” 

Tommy interrupts you, seeing the look of defiance in your eyes. He leans in, his lips close enough to brush against your neck. 

“Say my name again,” he orders softly. 

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. You can feel his breath against your neck and it sends shivers down your body into your cunt. Taking a second deep breath, you exhale. 

“Tommy…”

He smiles against your neck and starts to nip the sensitive skin beneath your ear. Then he moves his lips to rest against your ear. 

“I want you, Diana.” 

You close your eyes, sighing, your body starting to give in. But in the next moment you remember yourself and push him away. You move across the room, your legs weak and shaky. When you turn around, you’re both breathing heavily. Tommy removes his heavy coat and tosses it over a clothing rack. 

“For God’s sake, woman,” he grits out and runs his hand over his mouth. You exhale tightly, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the throbbing in your cunt. Instead of responding, you start to pull off your shoes and accessories, dropping them aggressively on the floor and makeup counter. You can’t even look at him without wanting to go back to him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Tommy scoffs as he watches you discard parts of your costume and ignore him. 

“Are you gonna keep acting like a child?” Tommy grumbles and leans against the wall with his arms across over his chest. You spin around, your arms gesturing wildly and your eyes flaming. 

“Jesus, Tommy! What do you want from me? Why do you keep coming back here just to never speak to me?” You rip off your feathered headband and toss it to the side angrily. Tommy watches you discard parts of your sheer costume. His eyes roam over your body, his lust once again starting to rule over his frustration. He sighs and passes a hand through his dark hair. He takes a breath, looking away from you, then finally turns back, his eyes jumping from your body to your eyes.

“I can’t get you out of my mind,” he says softly, as if he’s exhausted. 

You freeze, never expecting him to say something like that. Tommy shakes his head, frustrated at himself now for giving you and your situation so much power over him. Though he won’t say it, he might be obsessed with you. He suddenly feels ashamed and his eyes go cold again. 

“Is that not what you wanted to hear?” He asks, his eyes turning away from you. In the harsh dressing room light, his cheekbones cast dark shadows on his face in profile. You wet your lips and shake your head, not able to believe him. 

“I’m not a whore, Tommy. You can’t just come back whenever you want to fuck me,” you mutter, suddenly exhausted too. Tommy looks back, his brow immediately furrows. He jumps off from the wall and closes the distance once again between you. He places his hands on your shoulders, holding you still. 

“That’s not what this is,” his voice is low but clear- direct. He’s becoming more impatient by the minute. It’s like you’re refusing to see sense, to understand what he’s trying to tell you. He doesn’t understand why you’re the only thing he can think about and why he wants more of you, in all senses, now. His hands travel up your shoulders to the sides of your neck before they come to rest on either side of your face. His pointer fingers rest behind your ears, tucked beneath your flapper’s bob. 

You finally look up into his eyes, your heart falling into your stomach at what you see. You start to believe him, god-damn it. You do. Tommy lets out a gruff sigh and caresses your cheek with his thumb, his eyes traveling over your face as if he has all the time in the world to do so. 

“Don’t act like you don’t want me just as bad,” he mutters, his voice quieter than before. And when he says it, it doesn’t sound like he just means sex anymore. But what more do you want from Tommy Shelby than just sex? 

Your hands move to his lapels, gripping the button holes. You close your eyes for a moment as Tommy’s thumb passes over your bottom lip. He sighs when you close your eyes, his head immediately tilting down to get closer to your lips. 

“You drive me fucking mad, you know?” Tommy mutters so close to your lips that you can feel the sound of his words. His mouth dodges your lips and finds your neck, kissing below your jaw. 

“I hate you sometimes,” you whisper back, your breath jumping when you feel his hand slip down to your waist. He nods against your skin and moves his mouth slowly up to yours. 

“I know.” 

As he says this, you break and pull your chemise over your hips so you can undo your garters. Tommy groans softly against your mouth as he feels your garters snap as they fall away. Tommy runs his hands up your thigh as you unbutton his trousers, both panting softly between kisses. Tommy unbuttons his shirt and lets it hang open as he picks you up and sits back in the chair. He sets you down on his lap where you’re straddling him. His hands roam over your thighs as you take his face in your hands. The straps of your chemise roll off your shoulders but the fabric still covers your chest.  

“I want to see you, Diana.” Tommy slides his hands up your sides. You look down at him, your eyes meeting and holding contact.

“Not yet,” you whisper. 

Tommy’s hands slide back down your sides to rest on your hips. One of his hands starts to rub circles on the small of your back over your chemise. He smirks softly and tilts his head to the side. 

“Why not?” 

You smile back and lean down, brushing your nose against his. “You have to earn it,” you whisper. You kiss Tommy gently and he sighs against your lips, pulling you closer by your hips. 

“Earn it,” he asks, his eyes still closed, “how the hell do I earn it then?” He smiles and looks back up at you. You kiss him briefly, adding to his sexual frustration. 

“You have to be good to me.”

“Good to you?” He repeats, groaning when you start to taunt him with short kisses. 

“Be good to me,” you whisper again and begin to kiss him harder. 

He slips his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest. He kisses you passionately and deeply. You moan softly against his lips and Tommy moves one hand to slide up and down your thigh, holding you securely on his lap. 

“Is this good?” Tommy mutters, smiling. You giggle and shake your head, breaking the kiss. 

“You can touch me… but you can’t look- not yet.”

Tommy leans his head back against the chair and closes his eyes, trying to contain himself. He sighs tightly and opens his eyes, his head still leaning back. His hands roam up your body to your waist and up to your chest. His hands are open and flat as he passes his palms over your breasts, still veiled in silky fabric. He watches your reaction as you gasp softly, your nipples hardening beneath his light touch. 

Your hands trail down his bare stomach to his unbuttoned trousers. You reach into his pants and pull out his erection. Tommy groans, his eyes not leaving yours as he continues to feel you up over your chemise. You rise up on your knees and align his cock between your thighs. You sit down slowly and sigh tightly as you feel him fill you up. You move slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Tommy holds onto your hips, guiding you and matching your rhythm. He watches you in admiration as you take the lead, grinding harder and faster as you please. 

“Fuck.” Tommy pulls you down harder on his cock, causing you both to groan and gasp against each other. His hand slides up your back to rest against your spine, supporting you as you lean away from his chest. You’re whimpering as Tommy breathes heavily against your sternum, sweat glistening beneath your collarbones and between your breasts. You’re moving your hips as quickly as you can as Tommy guides you up and down. When you kiss him, he lets you slot your tongue between his lips. He groans when you suck on his wide bottom lip and his hips sputter up into yours. 

“Slow down, girl,” Tommy warns you between kisses, his hands slowing your hips down. “Stop for a second, look at me,” Tommy speaks softly though his words are broken up by heavy breaths. You stop and look down at him, your neck flushed with blood. 

“W-what is it?” 

Tommy looks up at you, his hands rubbing up and down your sides. Why he chooses this moment- he doesn’t know. He wets his lips. 

“Marry me.”

Please it's Christmas give us one update atleast 😭🎄🎁

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