#oc: tony bentini

[red-write-hand]

Worship Him

pairing -> thomas shelby x f!oc (tony bentini)

warning -> mutual masterbation, mutual pining, smut that slowly morphs into fluff, mutual love/hate, dom/sub themes??, dirty talk, wet dreams

word count -> 4,530 (only took me two months-)

notes -> omg why did this take me two months?? also did NOT mean for the ending to be fluffy, the original ending was really weird and would have taken me much MUCH to actual write so enjoy fluff tommy

reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated! this writer *points to the writer, curled up in a pile of blankets while watching the 2013 Gatsby* is a lil tired, be nice to them :]

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This shouldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t have these feelings. She shouldn’t be spending nights, still awake in her spacious plush bed, thinking about him. None of this should be happening. She should not be thinking of him when her fingers were trying to satiate her ever growing need for him. She was sitting at her desk but she couldn’t get work done. She was lying in bed but not sleeping. She was at Bentini charity galas but no one ever could keep her attention.

     Her lip was bruised and tender from her teeth sinking into them while her fingers tried to emulate the euphoria she so desperately needed. She was ashamed of herself. She was embarrassed by what she had to do. How she had to take care of herself. She didn’t want to be thinking about his pale blue eyes that seemed to know every one of her little secrets. She didn’t want to be thinking about his jaw and the way he would fix it in one place if he got antagonized. She didn’t want to be fantasizing about the way he gently played with his cigarettes. The way that he would care for the cigarette. It took all of her willpower to not swipe it out of his pale lips and take a drag herself. She wished she could study him, just keep him in one position to examine every inch of his gorgeous body. Or at least, what she thought was a gorgeous body. She really couldn’t tell half the time, he wore so many layers. She clutched at the sheets thinking about lovingly tugging off his layers, one by one. Ever so lovingly, ever so teasingly. She wanted to worship him, she wanted him to worship her. Her indecisiveness was killing her slowly from the inside out. 

     She felt her head loll back onto the soft pillow while she felt her slender digits go deeper. She thought about his arms, the way he would roll up his sleeves when he needed to work. She thought about that stare that he gave her, the one that made her want to apologize for something she hadn’t even done. Not even apologize, more like drop to her knees and confess her sins. She knew her thoughts were running away but then again, she could feel that pool of heat in her stomach when she thought about that. Worshiping him. Praising him. She imagined how he would hold her face and tell her how well she was loving him. She imagined that her fingers, now starting to pump faster and faster, were his fingers. She imagined that his voice was telling how pretty she looked with her flushed face and legs obediently open. Just for him. Only for him. She felt herself come closer to that glorious feeling she needed, that release she knew she would get by thinking about him, that final thought that would send her over the edge to the warm nothingness of ecstasy. She gingerly added another finger, seeing if she could get there faster. She was imagining him chiding her. She could hear his voice in her head.

     “Where did all that attitude go, eh? So you want to be a good girl now that you know that there will be consequences? Let’s see how long you can last, princess.” She arched her back slightly to feel her fingers go even deeper. She needed him so badly. She felt a string of sweet noises fall from her plump lips. She wished he was here, with a hand on her hip, holding her in place while she thrashed against his fingers. She could only imagine him relentlessly going deeper and deeper, drawing the exact noises that he would expect from all those women who came to the Garrison and chatted up his brothers. Those women who wore tight dresses with low cut bodices. Those women that always had a smile on their face even when being hit on by drunk Peaky Blinders. 

     She was definitely not one of those women. She was a dark queen who ran an empire. A empress who had people’s lives in the palm of her hand. She would not be the type of woman to be in her bed thinking about a man that she publicly hated. She would not be the type to fall to her knees and worship him like the god that he thought he was. She would never— then again— the way he walked into the room, practically demanding authority. She would only ever keep this to herself but she would give anything to be the woman who he pulled into his lap and played with for hours upon hours until he saw fit to let her rest. She would give anything to just be in his lap, with him deep enough in her that she could feel it if she shifted ever so slightly, keeping him sane while he sold his mind off to the world. What she wouldn’t give to be the one that he held in his arms in the earliest hour of the morning until he would have to leave her again. 

     She wished she was his, that he was hers. She felt the pool of heat grow even more in the pit of her stomach. She wanted him, she needed him. She needed everything that he was. His figure, his mind, his soul. She hated him. She hated everything that he was but she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. She hated his cornflower blue eyes that picked apart her soul, piece by piece. She hated how gently he treated his cigarettes, she wanted him to gently graze his fingers down her body. She wanted him to rip her apart and kiss her back together. She wanted to be his plaything, his doll, his pretty wife who stayed home and cooked. She wanted to be equal, for him to praise her, to hold his face and make him beg for her. She was so close, so incredibly close, she wished he was truly there. That he would use his condescendingly sweet tone he used on her when they had fought over a contract. That tone that drove her up the wall and made her inner thighs wet. That tone that slapped you in the face and kissed your bruise away. She imagined being this close to the edge of the cliff and hearing his biting tone. 

     “Aww, is my pretty slut close to her release, eh? Maybe I should pull my fingers out and make you suck on them until they’re completely clean?” She needed him so badly. She needed that idea of him. She let out a sharp breath as her fingers were pulled out. Her eyes fluttered shut as she fantasized about him holding her jaw and hovering his fingers in front of her lips. She parted her lips slightly and her fingers entered her mouth. She imagined that her fingers were his. She swirled her tongue around her three fingers, trying to clean all of her slick off of them. She envisioned that he was stroking her hair with his free hand, with a knee between her thighs, with her hips trying to buck against him. She could imagine him holding her down as he thrust his fingers farther into her throat. She pushed her fingers like she imagined he would, with the same rhythm he would.

     Once she was done, she knew she would feel ashamed. Not right now. Feeling embarrassed or ashamed was for later. That was for a later Tony with a more sound mind. She would pour over her feelings for him like a binding contract that didn’t make sense. She dreamed that he would drive into her hard if she kept squirming. If he was really here, thrusting hard into her, she would have a constant stream of noises coming out of her, only ceasing when a searing kiss came to her lips. She could only imagine a smirk playing at his lips while he played with her, bringing her to the edge over and over until she was dumb with pleasure and drunk on his love. 

     She imagined that while she rode out her ecstasy, he would tell her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. She came back to reality just for a second to feel her fingers thrust faster and faster inside her. She knew it was slightly disgusting, she had gone into her own mind again and the hand that had been firmly clutching at the bedsheets for so long had gone autopilot. Now she had switched hands, her non-dominant hand was now inside her and her right hand was now gripping the duvet as hard as she could as she tried to relieve herself of the need for a man she was supposed to hate. Her back arched even more and her eyes squeezed shut. She wanted it to end. She wanted him to be hers. She wanted him. She needed him. She craved what he could give her. She knew that he may never give her an opportunity to be his. She wanted to worship him. She wanted to show him how much she loved him. She wanted to be his personal doll. His own plaything. Only his. Only—

     She shot up from her sleeping position. She shuddered. How could she dream about that?! How could she dream about pleasuring herself to the thought of him? Why him?! She hated Thomas Shelby. She did hate him, right? She couldn’t stand the thought of him at all. She hated his eyes that were the color of the endless sky, the ones that she could imagine holding her own on the day of their wedding—No! She despised him! She did despise him, right? She smoothed down her hair and slid out of bed. She crumpled onto the ground and fixed her matching set of peach nightwear. It consisted of a pair of peach colored, satin short shorts and a peach bikini top. 

     She pulled herself into her tiled bathroom and splashed some lukewarm water at her face. She stared at her reflection in the wall length mirror. Her reflection stared back but there was something in her eyes, a want. A need. For something. For someone. Someone she knew all too well. She splashed more water on her face, some of it dribbled onto her chest. It almost felt like— No. She was not going to think about him. She was not going to think about the possibility of his hungry kisses dipping down into her sensitive chest. Her eyelids started to flutter closed which meant she was going to dream again. Dream again about a man she hated. Fantasize again about a man who she would never have. Fantasize again about the man who hated her as much as she hated him. Then again, in the back of her mind…

If this is how she felt about him, does he feel the same?

     Thomas Shelby’s biggest problem right now was the tightness of the crotch of his work pants. He was filling out contracts for Shelby Company LMT which was usually just very boring and monotonous, but now? Thinking about her? He couldn’t stay still. He needed to do something about this. About her. About her taking up so much space in his head. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was everywhere now. He kept seeing that shade of red, that dark hair, those gray eyes, that baggy suit. He kept feeling her tantalizingly feather light hands on his shoulders, her breath late at night, her eyes boring into the back of his head. He could hear her teasing laugh, her mocking comments, the Gaelic obscenities she muttered under her breath. He hated everything about her. He hated how much he thought about her. He hated the way her body was just so infuriatingly perfect. 

     In those vulnerable moments, those moments where he just needed that release, he thought about her. Her perfect body in that tight, immaculately cut red dress. He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts out of him. She was the most powerful woman in all of Ireland, she always looked so sullen when she had to do deals with him. Like she hated him. Then again, last time he checked, he hated her too. He hated everything about her. He hated the way her suits hung off her just enough to keep her power but also to keep her body a mystery. He hated the way her gray eyes practically ran laps around him every time they had to talk with their eyes.  He hated the way she smoked, all daintily, like she was afraid that her slender fingers would snap the cigarette clean in half. He hated the way she handled weapons, the way she flipped bats, the way she shot guns, the way she broke alcohol bottles. He hated that she gripped weapons like she knew what she was doing, but when it came to him, her touches were lighter than air. He wanted her to touch him like she did her bat. The way her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the bat so familiarly, like she had done it a million times. He was not about to go to the extremes that he wanted her to do that to him, but he did have those nights. Those dark nights of shame where he would relieve himself for hours simply thinking about her. Those covered nights where he could pace around Arrow House thinking about what to do about her. It was always her. Time and time again, it was always her. She just would not budge from his mind.

     He slid his chair back and checked for anyone looking into his office. He cautiously unbuttoned his pants and slithered a hand while he thought about all the reasons he hated her. His head lolled backwards. He really did hate her. 

     He hated how a smirk would always be playing at her lips after she had riled him up. He hated the way her voice caught and hitched if she was caught off guard. He hated the way she could command an entire room by just sending a cold stare around the room. His hand got quicker, despite the very confined space that were his pants, his hand was doing him a lot of good. He tilted his head back and let out a soft groan. He needed his release soon. He needed her too much. He needed his rough hands on her curves, or at least what curves she would let him touch. His pants were slowly shifting off him from the friction. His groans morphed into a string of rushed Romani. All the things he would say to her if she was his. 

As time passed and the more their eyes connected, the worse it got. The more times that Tony would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to sleep but meeting an immovable wall that could only be fixed with the man that she tells herself every day that she hates. It can only be fixed after being completely fucked through. Fucked dumb enough to do whatever he wanted. She felt her thighs squish together at the thought of that happening. The thought that one day she, the queen of the Irish drug world, would be being split apart, thrust after thrust, dirty Romani phrase after phrase. She hated that she did it but it was like her body worked on autopilot. She could only watch as her slender fingers lazily danced down to her slowly dampening core. With a soft sigh, one of her fingers started to work over her warm insides, trying to emulate a feeling she had never felt before. His fingers. The way he moved his fingers. Then, her mind moved from fingers to words to a mouth. The fantasy played in her of the man, the Shelby no less, above her, while she was obediently on her knees, gripping her hand with one broad hand. It was almost like she could hear him say, “You’ve acted like a fuckin’ brat for almost three months. Now let’s see you use those pretty lips wrapped ‘round my cock, then we’ll see if you’re really being a good girl.”

     Her fingers started to go faster and faster. The idea of his hoarse Birmingham accent barking out orders for her to follow to the letter. The idea that she would be his good girl, his sweet obedient girl, nothing like she was in her work life. She imagined the nights she would spend with him, his arms wrapped around her, caging her from the outside world, for him and only him to touch, for only him to play with, for him to love. Love was a strong word to use about Thomas Shelby but it was what she had realized she wanted from him. It was his love. His love and his body and his mind, but most importantly his soul. His ever living gorgeous soul. She felt her body’s pent up energy and started to thrash against her own fingers, imaging they were his. She needed him. She needed him more than ever now.

      The Shelby in question was now in his office in his sprawling manor. He had locked the doors after telling the maids to not call upon him unless it was an emergency. He found himself thinking of her, the dark angel that would love nothing more than to put a bullet between his eyes, under this very desk, big gray eyes pleading for him. He wished that he could just reach out and stroke her pale cheek. He wished that he could see her eyes well up with tears as she gagged herself on him. His head, almost on his own, lolled back, imagining how well she would take him. He thought about all the small sounds only he could pick up on, the hitches in her breath, the whimpers she made, the broken cries that came from her as he took her in the most animalistic sense. It was like a drug to him, thinking about her. Thinking about all the ways he would make her feel good. All the different sounds he could coax out of her. She was dismissive of him in their business lives but oh how he fantasized about throwing her onto his plush bed and bringing her ego down, seeing what she was like stripped down both physically and emotionally. He always did like to do business with people who had nothing to hide. His hand, without his mind even realizing it, had been slowly getting himself off. He knew tomorrow he would be disgusted with himself. She hated him and he hated her.

Then again, it wasn’t tomorrow and men like him did a lot of things during the deep hours of the nights that they were not proud of, why shouldn’t he do the same? His hand continued, faster this time. His eyelids fluttered close as the pleasure started to get too much. His pants had been so uncomfortable after she left. After he had gotten a nice view of the top of her cleavage. They were not too big or too small, just perfect enough for him. He had been catching glimpses of how her thighs stretched her pants even though she had specifically tailored her outfit to be two sizes too big. Still her thighs stretched the material when she sat in front of him. Thomas Shelby did not seem the type to want to pleasure a woman endlessly but oh when he saw her thick thighs, all he wanted to do is have her thighs squeeze the sides of his head while he used his silver tongue to bring her to the brink of pure bliss, his silver tongue that he honed to get money from anyone or get out any deadly situation, his silver tongue that had brought him success in politics, his silver tongue that could talk anyone out of doing anything. He would use it to make the girl that he now realized that he loved. 

     A battle was being waged in the Shelby man’s heart. On one hand, he only wanted her for physical gratification. To use her body and then use the experience against her. Then again, on the other hand, he wanted to wake up next to her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her middle and kiss down her neck just to hear the giggle he knew would bubble out of her mouth. Wanted to run his fingers through her hair after he had a nightmare to ground himself in reality, that she was right there. Wanted to see her run into his arms because she associated him with safety and love. He wondered offhandedly if she felt this way for him. Maybe they could build a life together.

     Yes. Yes, in fact she did feel the same. It was early the next morning and Tony hadn’t slept at all that night. Couldn’t stop thinking about the man she now had accepted that she was infatuated with. As she got ready, the more she thought about the conversations she would have with him while they would be getting ready for their respective days. She imagined it would be a lot of fending off his traveling hands. Hands that she wished would hold her face as she kissed him. Hands that held cigarettes the way she wished would hold locks of her hair. She wished she could slot herself into his strong arms late at night. Wished that she could curl up in his lap as he worked, letting him kiss the top of her head and letting him love her. Wished that she could see his smile when he saw her. 

     On two different sides of town, two people found themselves infatuated with each other. Infatuated with the idea of pleasure, bliss, and love. They needed each other to the extent that it was almost like their hearts beat as one. She needed his words and he needed her touch. Their fire burned of love and hatred. White hot passion and infatuation alongside scorn, spite, and animosity. They would kiss while they stabbed each other in the back. They would make wedding vows while the world burned due to matches they held. There was no line between hatred and passion for either of them. It was one feeling. That burning need for action. For something to happen.

Tension. That is the word they were searching for. As Tony tried to dress herself the next morning, all she thought was him. Everything he had ever done in front of her. She wanted more, she needed more. She needed more of him. It was unraveling her by the second. She needed him to toss her around, to use her, to do anything. She would be his doll if that meant that he would touch her the way she needed. The way that every girl in Birmingham wanted him to touch her. She wanted to be tied to his bed posts, she wanted to be bent over his desk, she wanted him to order her around. That itch in the back of her mind that just kept telling her to do something about it but she knew that he hated her right back. Her vanity was big and she stared back at a girl who just wanted the man who could make her feel something. Her breath became even as she retreated into her thoughts.

This time, they were not dirty. They weren’t her need to be his good girl, she imagined his hands on her face, ever so gently. His thumb brushing against her bottom lip. Her thoughts were soft and sweet. It was a flash of lights and colors and sounds. A car starting. Laughter. Flowers. A full field of them. Tommy in a field of flowers. Tommy in a field of flowers with her. Tommy in a field of flowers with her on his chest. Dialogue. He was talking so sweetly to her. His hand was on her face, just the way she liked it. She was wearing a shirt that did not look like hers and a skirt that she definitely did not own. It was so…perfect. Serene and nothing like what her life was like. It was her ideal world. A world where he loved her back.

Her body felt weightless, like she had finally realized something. In fact, at that moment she had. It wasn't just tension she felt, it was love. It was idiotic love. It was silly, stupid love. It was the love that only she could hold for him, the kind of love that keeps candles alive. The kind of love that keeps adding wood to a well kept up crackling fire in a fireplace. It was love.

Nothing about Thomas was right. He hadn’t slept, only thinking about Tony. How well she would take his cock. How adorable she would look under him. What kinds of sweet sounds he could pull from her bruised lips. As he pulled on her vest his thoughts flitted over to the fleeting wish for her to be the one buttoning her vest. Oh how he wanted to see her eyes, tired from the early morning, helping him get ready while still wearing his shirt that he had given her to sleep in the night before. Oh how he wished to hear her chiding him for getting blood on his vest yesterday because she would not be the one to wash it this time, you idiotic man.

He smiled against his better judgment, he smiled because behind his eyes, in his dreams, she was there. She was there in a white satin dress with a golden veil standing at the altar in front of him. She was there, in an orange sundress, by the sea with his arm wrapped around her, kissing her temple. She was there, with her slender arms wrapped around his neck, telling him that he has been working far too long and if he did not come to bed this instant she would drag his ass by his lapels into bed and no, he wouldn’t be touching her. She would be there, leaning on the counter on a lazy Sunday morning, ready for him to set her on the counter and lean his head against her chest. He now realized what he was feeling. He had been under the impression that it was blind hate and nothing else but there was something under the surface. It was calm and content. It was what he was before the war. She somehow brought out the boy that he was before the war. The boy that wanted romance and someone to settle down with. He felt something in his chest. He chuckled. He smiled. Maybe she had started to have an effect on him. Then he realized what it was. It was pure and perfect love. 

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wow. that took awhile. i'll post ANOTHER fic today/tommorrow too :]

taglist: @birminghamshelbyboys @goosita @cillianthinker @hllywdwhre @hanawrites404 @no-1peakyfan @forgottenpeakywriter @nick-carried-away @cilldistilled @atomicradiogirl @aphroditeslover11 @thatwitchybitch420 @shelbybabysblog @no-fooking-fighting

#thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby x oc #oc: tony bentini #thomas shelby x f!oc #tommy shelby x f!oc

[red-write-hand]

Frustration

pairing -> thomas shelby x f!oc (tony bentini)

word count -> 3.5k

warnings -> sexual frustration, dirty thoughts, modernized peaky blinders, dirty texting, tony bentini's great thighs, dom/sub themes, table sex, dirty talk, dirty pet names dumification (if you squint), praise, fingering

notes -> this is not a part two to ‘worship him’, this is a different one shot. i’ll make the part two soon, i promise!

reblogs, comments, and likes are much appreciated! this writer *points to the writer, curled up in a pile of blankets while watching the 2013 Gatsby* is a lil tired, be nice to them :]

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Being sexually frustrated wasn't a good look on Tony Bentini. It made her be on edge and it hindered her focus. It wasn’t that her relationship was devoid of pleasure, but Tommy had been working much later into the night during the past couple weeks. This usually wasn’t a big deal, except for the fact that it left her feeling very satisfied. Her fingers could only do so much for her. She was never able to make it feel like it was his fingers deep inside her.

Of course she wasn’t giving up so she brought herself to her climax but it just didn’t feel as satisfying as when he did it. Maybe it was the way he would kiss her right afterwards, maybe it was the way his eyes seemed charged with some aphrodisiac energy. Like all he wanted to do was pull orgasms out of her, one after another, until she was thoroughly fucked out. She sat at her desk in her office that sat, lofted above her factory floor. She had been trying to read a document one of her business partners had sent her but her thoughts were on her tightly crossed legs and on her husband almost thirty minutes away. She recrossed her legs and tried to dispel the images in her mind. Hands running down thighs, glistening fingers, cornflower blue eyes, marks on her thighs, arched backs, dirty phrases in hoarse Romani, hair hastily pulled back so as not to interfere with making her husband feel good. She huffed and leaned back in her leather desk chair. She wasn't going to be able to get any work done at this rate. She needed him too much. Not that she’d let him know that. Then again, she did start pondering whether she should text him, see if he was able to have her jump on the tube to come see him. She lolled her head back and let it rest staring at the ceiling. She needed to do something but what exactly?

She didn’t want to get herself off in her own office, for fear of staining the furniture. She didn’t want to go to her husband, as he was probably working. What was she to do? She groaned and came to terms with the fact she would probably have to wait until she got home to do anything substantial, so for the time being, she would rub her thighs to create some idea of friction and just wait it out. Forced patience was also not a good look on Tony Bentini. She plugged in her earbuds and started blasting music to take her mind off her slightly soaked panties. She bobbed her head along to the music as she got work done, hoping this would be enough to let her have some peace from her lingering need for her gorgeous husband. It seemed that the universe just didn’t want her to have a peaceful day as she got a text from just the person she was trying not to think about.

How’s your day been going, my darling wife whom I love so much <;3

She sighed and kicked her feet up on the corner of her desk. She gave in to the universe. Maybe she could do all this work tomorrow. No, she totally could do all this work tomorrow.

I mean, besides being kinda lonely, perfectly fine. How’s your day been, my amazing husband whom I desire dearly?

She giggled as she sent the text. Hopefully, he would pick up on the fact that she needed him. They say it's better for a couple to be open with each other but sometimes it's more fun to have a bit of a chase, isn't it?

She recrossed her legs for the third time, it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable to be wearing pants, even though her pants were very baggy. She had bought them so they wouldn’t be super tight and revealing. Apparently, the super tight part was her own fault, damn her thick thighs. On the upside, Tommy did adore them. He loved holding them as he ate her out while she whimpered and whined for him to let her fall off that ledge that made her feel oh so good. She knew how much he liked when she sat in his lap, her thighs were the perfect size to fit on him without spilling over the edge. She knew that he loved leaving marks on them as much as possible, in the only place only he would see them, he liked doing things like that. It was like an inside joke for them, something only they knew was there. As much as liked being shown off as his, she loved having those things that only they knew. They sent a few innocuous texts back and forth but then she decided that she was going to play the odds.

Been thinking about you all day. Barely gotten anything done. It’s all your fault. <3

She knew this would either go flirty or sickeningly sweet. She could do both but oh how she wanted him to come and whisk her back to their big plush white bed. As if she could hear him chuckling from miles away,

Why do I feel like you’re feeling a little needy, my dear?

She laughed and bit her tongue so as not to make too much noise. She thought about thousands of things she could send to him but she settled on teasing him, at least she would get punished if she got him hot and bothered. What was that old saying about shooting for the moon and ending up in the stars? She smirked as her fingers flew over her keyboard.

Was I being too obvious that my panties are soaked? Or are you just so very perceptive?

Oh she was in for it now. Too late to back out. She then turned her phone off. No answering any of his texts. No nothing. She would leave him with that and nothing else. She was taking too much pleasure in this. She smiled mischievously. She opened her computer and started to do actual work, as she had satiated her naughty side for now. She opted to ignore her now fully soaked panties for her regular spreadsheets that she had meant to work on today. Much later, her eyes flashed up to the clock at the top of her screen. 8:16. Great! This means she could hop in her cherry red corvette and drive back to Arrow House and prepare dinner, satisfy herself until Tommy came home, then have dinner with her loving husband who loved her so very much! Except she hadn’t planned for when she came home, a very expectant looking Tommy leaning on the banister of the big dark oak stairs. He took a drag of his cigarette that had been hanging from his lips. 

“Teasin’ me like that while I’m at work. Didn’t think a good girl like you had it in you.” His voice was gruff with a slight teasing edge to it, his thick Birmingham accent just tying it all up perfectly. Obviously, he was being a bit ironic, as both of them knew she was far from being what a stereotypical ‘good girl’ was. In fact, she was counting on the fact that he knew she wasn’t good to begin with. Her heels clicked on the wood paneled floor as she slowly walked up to her husband. She ran a finger down his right jacket lapel, gently caressing the edge of it. 

“Who ever said I was trying to be good? Definitely not me.” She felt his hands wander and finally alight on her hips, which then became a much more dominant touch. She smiled as she kissed down his jaw. Her hands had been ghosting his chest as his were traveling down her back. She was delaying what she knew was coming next. She knew exactly what he was about to say. She did deserve it, but she was no bland bottom, she could be a bit of a brat if need be.

“You do know that you deserve to be punished for teasing me. Then not answering any of my texts. That’s two. Then not doing anything about those–” She felt his knee brush against her crotch, knowing exactly what he was checking for.

“Still very soaked panties of yours. You’ve always been so good with your hands Tony, why not deal with your own problem?” She could hear the slight growl of dominance in his voice. Her smirk only grew from there. She flashed her big gray eyes at him, she made them look all innocent. She hoped it looked like she would never do such a horrid thing. Her Irish accent never really gave way to anything vaguely innocent sounding but she tried. 

“But it won’t feel as good as yours does. Your fingers…just feel–” She leaned close to his ear as she moaned the last two words. 

“So good…” She could feel him getting hard. Since they were so close, she could feel him start to harden against her thigh. She brought a hand up to play with the back of his hair. She was intentionally trying to be sweet to see how long both of them could last until one broke. She was Tony Bentini, she never lost at anything. She gave a last lingering kiss on the sharp corner of his jaw before dropping her coat off and walking into the kitchen. She almost forgot to kick off her heels. He chuckled and brushed them to the side with his foot as she had kicked them off in the middle of the corridor. He followed her into the kitchen where she started preparing dinner. He knew that she was doing this to get out of her punishment, so he waited, like a cat. She was humming along with a song as she cooked. He leaned against the marble island behind her. He recognized what she was humming as she came to the chorus. It was ‘Gimme More’ by Britney Spears. His sister Ada had had the worst Britney phase when she was younger. Tony had gotten a kick out of the fact that every Shelby boy knew every word to every popular Britney Spears song from the first couple notes. She flitted around the kitchen, gathering supplies and making sure everything was perfect. Once she stopped for a full second, he snaked his arms around her waist and held her fast to chest. 

“Just because you moved locations and now you’re cooking doesn’t mean you get out of your punishment. I could just take you on my marble countertops and you know that you would beg for it just the same. You would still be a blushing and moaning mess under me while I make you cum.” Blush started to bloom on her cheeks and she turned her head just a little to not show him how much his words affected her.

“I know you’re blushing. I know that my words are affecting you. You know that you’ve been a bad girl, not taking care of yourself then not letting me do it all day.” He started to pull her jacket off her. She shrugged it off and pulled her tie off too. He chuckled. He would usually be worried why she wasn’t talking but right now, he knew that if she tried to speak, her voice would be all cracked and breathy. He smirked and didn’t mention that she was dropping her clothes on his kitchen floor. She was down to her blouse and pants.

“You’re eager for someone who doesn’t want to lose. Do you want me inside you that badly?” She knew he was riling her up and she knew that she shouldn’t care but oh, how well it was working. She laughed and kept preparing dinner with a serene expression on her face, or at least that's what she hoped was on her face. She could still feel his arms around her waist, his amazing fingers fiddling at the buttons closest to her waistband. She giggled and kissed the top of his head. He smirked, knowing that she was trying to make him all soft and gooey so she could get her release, but he wasn’t to lose either. He started to nip and bite at her neck. He was going to win. He was sure of it.

“You’re holding up well for a pretty slut who wants me so badly that she’s practically leaking.” He kissed right under her ear, his Birmingham accent thick and infectious. It had made powerful women across the United Kingdom fall to their knees, he had perfected it for one unfortunate soul in particular, who by all accounts, was holding up rather well. Even though her knees had started to feel like jelly, she needed to stay strong. She sighed and put the chicken thighs in the oven and set it to 350 for one hour and thirty minutes. She turned to her husband with a fairly triumphant smile.

“I’ve got an entire hour and thirty minutes to myself now. I can now take care of myself.” She was intentionally not saying ‘Now you can take care of me!’ That sounded a little too desperate, which  she was but she wasn't about to tell him that. He chuckled, and with little effort, set her on the marble countertop. She smirked and crossed her legs teasingly, as if to say, ‘You aren’t going to win. I am.’ He cocked his eyebrows and tapped her top knee with two fingers. She pouted and uncrossed her legs, she was a lot of things but disobedient was not one of them. She uncrossed his legs and he stood between them. He ran his hands, teasingly, down the length of her torso. 

“So obedient. So put together for a good little whore. You know, it’s rather hot in ‘ere. I think you’d fare better if you didn’t have this on.” He had been unbuttoning her blouse as he hypnotized her with his words. His words that could move millions. His words that could bring queens to their knees. His words that could stop wars. She hung on every dropped consonant and every syllable he uttered. He pulled his blouse off fully which exposed the black lace bra she had on. He nipped right where he knew she was sensitive, which elicited such a pretty moan from her. 

“What a good slut. Wearing such revealing lingerie under your work clothes. What–a–good—whore.” He punctuated every word with another mark he left on her good sized chest. She had started to let out strangled noises as well as a hand going to his hair, trying to steer him to no avail. He stood back for a moment and she knew what he wanted from her. She tugged her pants off and the expensive material dropped to the floor, neither of them caring. She shivered as now she was just in a black lace lingerie set and nothing else. He ran a strong hand down her thighs. She whimpered as his fingers came closer to her completely soaked panties. He shook his head and tutted.

“Look what a mess you made in this pretty set. How long have you been waiting to be fucked dumb?” She stuttered. She couldn’t get words out to say anything. She felt his hand, usually so soft and gentle, now hard and commanding come up and tilt her jaw to look at him. 

“It would be wise to answer my question, my darling. Just because you’re my pretty wife does not exempt you from not answering when I ask things.” They both knew that she was much more than his pretty wife but currently, he was talking about who was right in front of him. Sitting on the counter wasn’t strong and powerful Tony Bentini, it was Thomas Shelby’s pretty wife who would do anything for him, which included sitting around and looking pretty for him. She smiled weakly. Her voice was breathy and was right on the edge of a whimper. 

“Almost two weeks.” She felt his hand move up her thigh as his other hand brought her face up to look at him. She flashed him her obedient gray eyes. His voice was commanding and dominant, but had that edge of teasing that she loved so much. 

“Two weeks, what?” He was teasing her even more now. She blushed and tried to instinctively rub her thighs but his hips stopped her efforts. She whined and tried again to the same result before she registered that she was supposed to say something. 

“Two weeks, what?” He repeated, to drive home a point. He had two fingers under her chin. His cornflower blue eyes bore into her gray ones. His with that touch of dominance to them and hers with that hint of submission.

“Two weeks, M-Mr. Shelby.” She stuttered out. She couldn’t steady her voice out at all. He nodded and gave her a sultry kiss. A kiss that lingered and gave her a fleeting taste to something that she wanted so badly. Something she knew she wasn’t getting until he was satisfied.

“I was going to make you get on your knees and put that pretty mouth to good use but I think a good girl like you who’s probably wound so tight-” He flicked a single finger over the soaked part of her panties. She let out a whimper and buried her face in his neck. She could hear him sigh and kiss her jaw. She could feel him bending her onto the cold counter. She didn’t even register that her panties were being gently pulled off her. She only felt his fingers glide down and dance exactly where she needed them to be.

“I do apologize for leaving you so needy. The company has been so swamped and I don’t trust anyone else to do any of the important work, but right now, it’s just us. I’m going to make you feel so good. I promise, my pretty little slut.” She bucked her hips immediately when she felt two of his slender fingers enter her. She let out a few broken moans when she heard his chuckle. He kissed her right under her sensitive chest.

“You’re so wet. So needy. So good for me.” He leaned over the countertop and kissed her as tenderly as he possibly could. He did want her to tell him when he had been forgetting to make her feel good. He would gladly skip work to fuck her stupid.

“O-Oh Mr. Shelby…” She had one of her hands behind her head to make sure she didn’t hurt herself. He kept pumping his fingers into her at a sickening pace that made her back arch, one climax after another. All while he whispered sweet nothings in Romani. She had lost track of how many times she had finished on his fingers when she heard him chuckle.

“I would say your punishment is to clean up the absolute mess you’ve made on my expensive counters but I think I've been too hard on you my darling. Let’s get you up to bed and clean you up. I’ll even clean you off myself then you can fall asleep in my arms.” She nodded sleepily. She heard him walk over to the oven and turned it off. He chuckled and walked back between her legs. He kissed one more time between guiding her legs around his waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked both of them up to their master bedroom and set her down gently in the tub in their spacious bathroom. He kissed her forehead and as he stripped her fully. 

After they had settled themselves in bed and she had come out of her Shelby-drunk stupor, she kissed his jaw.

“You know, I never did make you feel good. I’m supposed to be a good wife.” He laughed and kissed her hairline. His eyes were full of adoration and lust. A perfect combination for them.

“You’re a perfect wife. You still love me after I took your needs for granted for two weeks. I’m surprised how you’re even in my arms right now.” She giggled and squirmed a little to find a better position in his arms. He pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. Tender and full of love. Love with a dash of lust. Lust filled with all the love in the world. Her eyes were full of love and serenity.

“It’s because I’m such a good wife. The only woman who will put up with you.” He nipped at her neck for that comment. She laughed and they fell back into their normal rhythm. A joke, a flirt, an innuendo, a touch here, a touch there, a hand there, a shared hungry look. It was easy for them. Absolute peace. Absolutely perfect. 

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taglist: @birminghamshelbyboys@goosita@cillianthinker@hllywdwhre@hanawrites404@no-1peakyfan@forgottenpeakywriter@nick-carried-away@cilldistilled@atomicradiogirl@aphroditeslover11@thatwitchybitch420 @shelbybabysblog @no-fooking-fighting

#thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x f!oc #tommy shelby x f!oc #oc: tony bentini #thomas shelby x tony bentini

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for all yall who get it...'Worship Him' comes out very soon. v e r y soon.

VERY

V E R Y SOON

@birminghamshelbyboys YOU GET IT. YOU GET WHAT IM ON. MWAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAHHHAH

#cal will totally finish it #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x oc #oc: tony bentini #i will have finally finished something i started a month ago #maybe two months

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So...about Tony

Her lore is super long and some details take awhile to explain but here is the beginning of it...

Tony Samuel Bentini was born in Ireland to a prostitute her father had paid nine months earlier. She never really knew her mother since all she had done was drop Tony off at Sam's door and then disappear. Tony soon came to find out that Sam hated the idea of having a daughter (Sam is super misogynistic, so of course, no daughters. even though tony is a girl, she HAD to be given a male name). At this point, her only other sibling was a boy six years older than her named Sean James Bentini. He was the only child of Sam's late wife Catherine. Sam never really cared for any of his children aside from giving them* money when they* needed it (*meaning Sean, Tony never got any money whatsoever). This left a tiny baby in the care of a six year old. Almost impossible right? Well, Sam had 'trained' Sean to do exactly this, lead, so that is what Sean did.

A couple years pass and now Tony is 5 and Sean is 11. In comes another baby. This one named Charles John Bentini. Of course, both Sean and Tony took care of their step-sibling as if they were full blood because their father had drilled into them that no one else would help them, no matter what. This resulted in none of the siblings really ever getting an education. Finally when Tony is 9, Sean is 15, and Charlie is 4, another baby arrived (huzzah), his name is Oliver Killian Bentini. They all care for him until, two years later, Sean gets his girlfriend, Florence, pregnant and now has to run away with her before trying to figure out how to marry her. This just leaves us with Tony, at the ripe age of 11, taking care of a 6 year old and 2 year old.

All goes well and dandy for a good long while. Up until Sam Bentini decides his children ought to know what he does for a living. He reveals he is a drug dealer and manufacturer of highly concentrated opium. Now Sam wants to retire so he obviously wants to give his business to his first born, but Sean is nowhere to be found and he is not about to give it to his 'mistake of a child'. When Sean finally does come back, he inherits the company. Mind you, Sean has been peacefully living in the Irish country side for a good while and he has no plan on leaving. In secret, after Sam leaves, Sean ends up giving Tony the business instead because 'she would make more use of it than he would.' Another reason Sean gave it to her was because she had become very proficient at many types of crimes over her life time (short as that may be) so she would know how to operate the illegal side Sean knew for a fact existed. Even if she couldn't figure it out at first, he knew she knew people who could steer her in the right position.

Now Tony is 21, Sean is 27, Charlie is 16, and Oliver is 11 when the Great War is announced. Here is the thing about the Bentini opium business, it was technically still under Sean's name (because in that day and age they were not letting a woman run it) while Tony practically ghost wrote everything he did. So when he and Charlie were drafted and shipped off (not Oliver, he was too young), she was the only Bentini eligible to take the business, and that is exactly what she did. She grew the business with all her connections to the underground and soon became the most powerful woman in Ireland. She got so influential that she controlled all alcohol and drug import or export in Ireland. She was feared and respected by everyone. She sat on a dark throne above her factory, smoking a cigarette and overseeing her domain.

All of her fun being amazing in peace was up-ended when the boys came back from the war. Both of her brothers came back alive which she thanked god for. With now the booming business for opium in England, she decided to expand over there too, little did she know her brothers weren't the only ones to come back.

TIMESKIP

Neither Tony or Tommy liked each other. They both kept running into each other’s territory and having petty fights over their own egos. The thing that ticked them both off (which they would never admit out loud, or at least right now) was that they were just a little too similar. The way they smoked, the way they conducted business, the people they conducted business with.Hell, they both even had a love/hate relationship with Alfie Solomons. Tony ran her bar back in Ireland and the Peaky Blinders ran the Garrison. They were constantly at odds with the other so much that they would hone in on the other's presence if they walked into a room. They hated each other severely. Both wanted to kill the other and they both knew it. The only times they would join forces were when they had a common enemy. Kimber, Campbell, Changretta. Shelby and Bentini. A fearsome pair of they when fighting. They shared cigarettes when they did business. Then again, sworn enemies

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if you guys want the rest of the story where tony and tommy fall in love slowly but surely, just comment, send me a pm, slide into my ask box. hope you like my little introduction to my silly little goofball

#oc #tony bentini #peaky blinders oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby #oc: tony bentini

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An Bentini audio recording

“Now where do I start? Why do I love Marianne Portmann? Well, first of all, it isn’t so much love as it’s something deeper. It’s like my soul is tied to hers. I’m getting off track. Why does my soul love her? What kind of question is that? Why wouldn’t I love her? Everything about her is loveable. 

Just everything — Am I not allowed to say that? Well, I can give a couple reasons. She keeps me sane. I mean that in a sweet way. Like she can tell if I’m about to do something stupid and she gently wraps her hand around my fingers and kisses the edge of my jaw and I forget what I was pissed off about. I promise I can deal with my emotions but I can’t be held accountable for what happens to men who make passes at my wife. They meet the end of my sniper — Ooo. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t put this on the recording, will you Tony? Alright, back on track. 

Why did I marry her? Well that’s easy. I married her because both of the men who were supposed to marry her are pieces of shit who don’t know what a wonderful woman they had so I married her instead. I’m not even going to say their names. It’s like summoning Satan from hell. Back on track, Sam, you’re better than this — Alright. Why does my souls love her — I mean, she’s beautiful and she’s so kind and she’s just amazing. Like — I’m sorry but everything about her! Her imperfections are gorgeous! The little spot scars she’s got! The way that one hair can never be moved on her head and always stands straight up! That weird quirk to her smile! It’s perfect. She’s perfect. I don’t really understand how anyone couldn’t love her…”

@birminghamshelbyboys do you like it :]

#oc: sam ryder #oc: marianne portmann #oc: marianne portmann ryder #oc: the soldier and the dove #oc: tony bentini

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very unfinished WIP

thank you so much @forgottenpeakywriter, i promise you guys that i do exist, i’m just taking a break, but i will respond to things if you mention me in them <3

Based of ‘Worship Him’

about my oc (and favorite girl) Tony and Tommy pining over each other so much that they realize they get themselves off thinking of the other person

twist? they hate each other! (what a surprise-)

i promise it will exist at some point!! if y’all want to chat over inbox asks, i’m promise i will respond in 2-5 cal business days!

@pinguwrites @dibmembraneisgoodlooking @ninja-potato-shelby-solomons @marilynmonroefanfics @aphroditeslover11 @moral-terpitude @birminghamshelbyboys

#worship him #oc #tony bentini #watch me never post it- #have this for you guys