Oh! This is Anna!

She/32/Tom Hardy fanatic/

[ohthisisanna]

Masterlist

Tom Hardy

Queen Of Broken Hearts - Unfinished (Tom x OC)

Part 1

Part 2

James Delaney

Speak to me, torment me, use me to be your voice (James Delaney x Reader) (Smut) Teaser for Part 2

Alfie Solomons

The Last Time (Alfie x Reader) (Smut)

Harry da Souza

Wrong Car, Right Mistake (Harry x Reader) (Smut)

Freddie Jackson

Wreckage (Freddie x Reader) (Smut)

Johnny Davis

All the time (Johnny x Reader)

[potter-solomons]

[potter-solomons]

we are blessed.

[potter-solomons]

Harry Dafuckmesohardicry Souza.

[potter-solomons]

belly belly belly.

sorry about the quality. NOT SORRY ABOUT THE BELLY.

[feveredvisions]

YUMMM 😵‍💫

[potter-solomons]

he's looking at you with nothing but sin in his eyes.

[potter-solomons]

I'm actually shocked by the drop in notes on tom posts or is it just me?

[talesfromthecrypts]

Wuthering Heights (2009) dir. Coky Giedroyc

[sportsmusicsoapsmoviesfan]

[robinavitchslut]

OMG HI. I would love some dominant Johnny Davis energy. Maybe he picks up a normie nurse after going to the hospital for stitches and he teaches her a thing or two about being a good girl for a biker Daddy. 😭😭😭

🤍 good girl - johnny davis

you're a nurse, new in town, and when you meet the infamous johnny davis, he shows you a thing or two about how he always gets what he wants.

wordcount: 4.9k

warnings: smut! minors dni! oral (m! receiving), masturbation(m/f), slight stalking, public touching, cumshot on face, cum swallowing, handjob (m!), medical procedures, needles, swearing/cursing, heavy use of "good girl". (lmk if I need to add more) Hey thanks for the request, hope this is okay <3

dividers by: @cafekitsune masterlist

It wasn't unusual for Johnny to find himself in the hospital, same shit, different day. He hated it; being there reminded him of all the people he'd lost over the years. Although the attention he got from the nurses helped, some of them would recognise him; they'd fawn over him, desperately wanting a taste of his dangerous life. Johnny never really gave them the attention they desired; he just liked knowing he still had it.

"What are you girls looking at?" You asked as you approached a group of your colleagues, nurses, who had gathered around the emergency room entrance. You were new in town, just moved from New York, and it was definitely a culture shock moving to Illinois. The girls would often poke fun at your 'fancy' accent, though your patients, especially the men, seemed to find it rather endearing.

"Oh my! y/n haven't ya met Johnny Davis yet?" One of them giggled, pulling you closer to the door frame so you could get a better look.

On the bed, you saw an older gentleman, not too old, you thought to yourself. Johnny wore a thick black leather jacket, blue jeans, and a tight white shirt, with his hair slicked back perfectly; his appearance captivated you in a way you'd never felt before. One rogue piece of hair had fallen into his face- he looked like he'd stepped straight out of a movie scene, he had the presence of a star. With the way he had captured all the girls' attention, you thought he very well might've been one.

"No, who is he?" You asked, unable to take your eyes off him. You took in every detail of him, the way his dark eyes flickered around the room, taking in his surroundings, how big his hands looked fiddling with the zip on his jacket, he seemed almost nervous alone, it warmed your heart.

"He's the leader of the Vandals, ya know, the motorcycle club round these parts" Truth be told, you had heard whisperings of the Vandals since you'd arrived; your roommate had informed you of them, and how, most of all, you should absolutely steer clear of them at all costs. However, in that moment, as you drank Johnny in, you forgot that advice. Being from New York, you were no stranger to 'gangs', though it was all mobsters and wannabe gangsters back home- you could tell that Johnny was the real deal, and you couldn't look away. There was something about the danger he exuded that, combined with his charming looks, pulled you in so effortlessly.

"Oh, right, well, are we gonna treat him or are we just going to stand here looking at him all day?" You acted like you weren't interested; you were still new at your job and had to remain professional, you couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

"Hey girls, seein' as it's y/n's first time meetin' Johnny, I think we should let her have a turn on him" The other nurses hummed in agreement, and before you knew it, you were being pushed into the room. You took a minute to straighten out your uniform, taking a deep breath as you made your way towards him. His eyes found you instantly, and for a moment, you forgot where you were. His gaze felt heavy on you, and as your eyes met, you swore you forgot how to breathe. Johnny had a dangerous, foreboding aura that felt inescapable; you felt like you had been trapped in a cage with a tiger, and it excited you.

"You're new, aintcha' doll?" You could feel Johnny looking you up and down, sizing you up, and suddenly feeling self-conscious, you shifted in place.

"y-yeah, I'm new" You kept your eyes glued to the floor. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him. He was imposing, and it made you nervous. You felt your stomach twist in knots. You were a pretty outgoing person usually, but in Johnny's presence, you'd turned into someone you didn't recognise, someone small, someone who needed guiding.

"So, where ya from then?" He sat up in the bed, his muscles shifting under his shirt. You looked up enough to catch a glimpse, but you wished you hadn't, feeling that familiar rush of heat between your legs as butterflies filled your stomach, followed by a cold shiver down your spine. You took another deep breath, rooted around in the trolley beside you, and located the suture kit you needed. You had passed at the top of your nursing class, but right now you weren't sure if you'd even be able to remember how to do simple sutures, as your hands trembled, unnerved by his relentless gaze.

"New York, not that it's any of your business", you said promptly, a sudden bravery washing over you, though it was fleeting as you heard him let out a small chuckle under his breath. Johnny seemed like a man who always got what he wanted, and you had this strange sense that you were it. Being from New York, you were more than used to men making callous advances at you; you'd had to fight off countless men by the time you arrived at work back home. Typically, you'd brush it off, but Johnny was different; his confident demeanour was alluring to you, mesmerising in a foreign way. He was like no man you'd ever met before, not the usual kind of sleaze you'd encountered hundreds of times in the past; he was something else entirely, something completely intoxicating.

"Hm," Johnny grumbled to himself, seemingly amused by your audacious response. "I know some folk from up that way, buncha' no good cocksuckers", he laughed, though it didn't sound like he was joking. You didn't say anything in return; instead, you took the cloth with disinfectant and wiped it gently against the cut on his forehead. He didn't react at all to the sting, didn't so much as even blink, like he'd done it a hundred times, which at this point you thought he probably had.

"Not my first time," Johnny remarked, as if he could read your thoughts. Again, you didn't reply; you couldn't bring yourself to. It was like all the words you knew had left you, unable to think of anything but his penetrating gaze devouring you, like you were his prey. You felt like a fawn caught in the crosshairs of a mountain lion, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

Johnny was calculating, utterly intrigued by your outward indifference to him. The nurses around here would usually be tripping over themselves to talk to Johnny; they'd often end up in heated arguments over who got to treat him, but not you. It only made him want you more. You were an enigma to him, a mystery he had to solve, a code he had to crack. It was all a game, and he loved to play.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" Johnny mused, impressed by your composure. He was much more used to women being a mess around him, stumbling over their words as they tried desperately to flirt their way into his bed, but you gave him nothing; it was a welcome challenge.

"Not when I'm working, no." You started stitching him up, and again, he didn't react at all, even though you hadn't numbed the area. You'd watched even the toughest of men cry at the sting of the needle, but not Johnny. You watched with interest as he sat there, indifferent to the pain, sitting as casually as if he were at home, reading the morning paper.

"How about when you're not working, you a talker then?" His eyes never left your face, like he was studying you, figuring out the quickest way to make you fold.

"Depends," he let out a small laugh, amused at your curt answers. It wasn't often that Johnny had to force a conversation out of any woman; it only made him more intrigued. His curiosity grew by the second. He wondered how it was you could be so calm around him, though if you were being honest, you didn't feel relaxed at all.

Your heart raced, only getting faster when your shaking fingers would brush his hot skin as you worked. And, as he refused to drop eye contact, that burning heat from between your legs rose to your stomach. It made you dizzy, the thoughts racing through your head, thoughts of him getting his way with you, and you were disappointed in yourself for thinking such thoughts. It wasn't like you at all to consider such things, especially not regarding patients, but you couldn't stop yourself; his pull was too strong.

"depends on what?" Johnny asked. He felt like he was trying to pull blood from a stone, just trying to get a conversation out of you, but he enjoyed it. The game was exhilarating to him; he contemplated what he could do, what he could say that would be the final nail in your coffin, what would make you concede to him.

"I guess it depends on who I'm with." You pulled your last stitch through, tying it off, amazed that you'd even managed to stitch him up so well since you could barely think straight.

"Ah," he nodded. "And what if you were with me?" You froze as you were about to place a bandage over his stitches. His question caught you off guard, and he noticed, of course, he did. A slight smirk flickered across his face.

"What do you mean?" You asked, your voice cracking, trying to regain composure, but failing; your hands trembled as you wrapped the bandage around his head.

"What if I took you out, would you wanna talk to me then, sweetheart?" His eyes watched you hungrily, and it took all of your strength to keep yourself together. In that moment, as you felt him closing in, you cursed yourself for not taking the rumours about him seriously.

"Mr Davis, I don't think that's really appropriate" You mustered up the strength to turn away from him, to throw away the suture kit, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you, capturing you. His calloused hand felt massive around your small wrist, and the contact set your skin on fire. Your breath caught in your throat, your thoughts raced once more, and you felt powerless in his grip.

"I'm not really interested in what's appropriate and what's not, doll" His voice was darker now, almost sinister, and you felt yourself falling deeper into his trap.

Johnny knew exactly what you were thinking; he could practically hear your internal conflict, and he knew he would win in the end. You imagined him taking you right then and there, in the hospital bed; he looked so unbelievably sexy with that smug smirk plastered across his face. Still, he had a hint of mystery and danger about him; he was dazzling in all the most tempting ways.

"Mr Davis, please let go of-"

"Sit down." He ordered, tapping the edge of the bed with his free hand, and instinctively, you did, immediately. It was like he already had control of you, and that's precisely how he liked it; you were at his mercy. You felt pathetic.

"Mmm, that's a good girl, " he winked, and your face flushed red with desire and a tinge of embarrassment, which only egged him on further. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

"Please don't call me that", you quietly pleaded with him. It was no use. And you watched as he placed a large hand on your exposed thigh. You shuddered as he began rubbing gently, his rough hands felt so good against your soft skin, it took all your strength not to moan out his name.

"Don't tell me what to do, sweetheart, that's not how this works" He shifted closer to you, his face an inch away from your own. You tried to turn away, unable to look at him, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to.

"Anyways, I betcha' liked it when I called you that. I bet if I were to move my hand just a little higher," Johnny's harsh hand drew closer up your trembling thigh ", I'd find you a soaked mess under that little uniform of yours." You begged him internally to do just that, silently screaming, pleading that he would.

"I didn't like it at all" You lied, not wanting to give in to him so easily, but your body was betraying you.

"Well, let's see, shall we?" Your breathing became rapid and tense. You thought there was no way he was doing this right there, in your place of work, but he was. You knew that there was no way you could allow him to make a show of you like this, but you were defenceless against him; he was a god, moulding you under his wandering hands.

Unable to let this continue, and without saying a word, you jumped up off the bed and hurried out of the room, leaving him there in shock. No woman had been able to resist Johnny and his advances before, but he didn't feel defeated; no, he only felt more empowered to get his way with you. The other nurses could be heard giggling as you passed. They had seen everything, though they knew what was in store for you as soon as they sent you in there. You finally understood what they had meant when they said 'take a turn on him' earlier. This was par for the course for Johnny, and you were just his newest conquest.

-

You left work early that night, telling your superiors you felt sick, which was a lie, of course. Your encounter with Johnny earlier in the day had left you rattled, and you were unable to think of anything but his hand slowly exploring your skin. You wondered about what would've happened if you'd let him finish. You lay there in your bed thinking about it: thoughts flashing, the memory of his eyes staring deep into your soul consumed you.

You imagined how he might react with a soft grunt when he felt the wet fabric of your underwear, how he'd probably make some witty remark about being right about you being a 'soaked mess'. You thought of him slipping his fingers beneath the hem, how he might run slow and gentle circles over that needy part of you, though you supposed gentle wasn't really Johnny's style.

You turned onto your back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling, dirty scenes with Johnny keeping your mind too occupied to sleep. You thought that getting some release might help with your problem, so you closed your eyes and let your hand wander down your body, pulling up your silk nightgown as you did. You were already dripping again from thinking about Johnny, and as you started rubbing in gentle circles, you thought of only him.

You imagined it was him touching you, with his thick, throbbing cock in his hand, getting himself off as he got you off. The thought was absolutely electrifying. You felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm, and your movements became frantic, wanting desperately to be free of the knawing feeling inside you that had been exhausting you all day. You thought about how Johnny would climb on top of you, how his plump lips would feel all over your body, how he might even softly graze your nipple with his teeth. The images were almost too much, and you knew you were about to come undone; you were so close when a sudden loud noise from outside pulled you out of your thoughts.

You jumped up in your bed, frantically pulling your gown down, startled at the intrusive noise.

"fuck!" You cursed at no one, frustrated that you didn't get the release you had been chasing.

You made your way over to your window, annoyed, to see what had so rudely interrupted you, and, as if he'd fallen straight out of your dream, there he was, Johnny Davis, on his motorcycle right in front of your house.

You darted away from the window, but it was too late; he had already seen you, and he let you know by revving his engine again.

You sighed and pulled the window up, leaning out of it to talk to him. He smiled at the sight of you; your breasts were practically falling out of your nightgown as you tipped forward.

"You gonna let me in or what?" Johnny shouts up at you. It was late, very late, and he knew that if he caused a scene out on the street, you'd have no choice but to let him in.

Johnny wasn't a patient man, not when it came to getting his way, and he swore that tonight, he would be getting exactly what he wanted from you.

"How did you know where I live, Johnny?" You tried to keep your voice down so as not to rouse your neighbours' curiosity.

"I know folk," he waved his hand casually, "Never mind that, it's freezing out here, so I'll ask again, are ya gonna let me in?" You laughed at his brazenness. It would be repulsive how cocky Johnny was if he weren't so utterly charming. And if you weren't so turned on by the thought of letting him in, letting him do whatever he pleased with you.

"No, Johnny, obviously not" You went back inside, slamming your window closed. You turned around to get back into bed, and it started again, the deafening revving, though this time it didn't stop. Defeated, you knew that if you didn't go downstairs and open up that door for him, he'd never let up, so you did just that.

"Had a change of heart, doll?" He laughed as he strolled into your house, taking in his surroundings, but mostly taking in the sight of you, dressed in nothing but a tiny silk nightgown. The delicate fabric clung perfectly to your body; his eyes once again devoured you, intoxicated by just the sight of you.

"What do you want, Johnny?" You asked, folding your arms across your chest. You knew in your heart what he wanted, the same thing he wanted back in the hospital: you. Johnny took a step closer, almost closing the gap between the two of you.

"You know what I want" His hand found its way to your waist, but you didn't move; you stood your ground in an attempt to show him that you wouldn't be giving in to him, a fleeting effort to try and resist your darkest urges, despite knowing deep down, you were not the one in control.

"And you think this is how you get it? By coming to my house in the middle of the night, practically forcing me to let you in, do you actually think that's gonna work for you?" You tried to sound tough, but your voice trembled, mirroring the rest of your body.

"Yeah, I do" He moved closer still, the space between you completely disappearing. He towered over you, his body so large and imposing that you felt so small next to him, both physically and psychologically; he had you at his whim.

"See, what you did today at the hospital, leavin' like that, well, that's never happened to me before, so ya see I'm here to…rectify that situation" Johnny's hands were now around your back, and he pulled you even further into him, if it was possible. You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and it drove Johnny crazy. His fingers slowly stroked your back as his words penetrated your soul, reaching that aching part of you that desired him so intensely.

"w-what situation?" You feigned ignorance; you knew exactly what he was talking about, but you couldn't help goading him. The tension between the two of you was delicious; you revelled in it, yearning for more.

"You know, you leavin' me there all turned on like that, been thinkin' about this sweet body all day, n' I don't think that's very fair, sweetheart" Johnny's hands found your face now, stroking a stray piece of hair away behind your ear, the contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, almost paralysing. Still, you looked up at him, softly biting your lip at his teasing words.

"You're gorgeous", he hummed, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. It made you whimper; you cursed him silently for being able to make you crumble the way he did. You knew you should stop him; it was so utterly indecent of him barging into your house like this, making you need him the way you felt you did, but you couldn't. Your words escaped you once more.

"So, I'm gonna have you, right here, right now," Johnny said in a low growl, whilst he effortlessly lifted you by your waist, placing you down with your back against the wall. There was no space for you to escape, had you wanted to; his body held you in place, and you could feel all of him. "And you're gonna be a good girl for me, aint ya?" You could only nod in response; staring deep into his eyes, unable to look away, you were mesmerised by him, caught in a trance.

"Say it, say you're gonna be a good girl for me, " he demanded. You had the urge to do what was right, to make him leave, but your body was already his, and you immediately did as Johnny instructed.

"I'll be good for you" Your voice came out at barely a whisper, but it seemed to satisfy him.

"Good, now get on your knees." Johnny stepped back, giving you room to situate yourself on your knees in front of him. Without being prompted, you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear. You inhaled sharply as you took in his impressive size. You had never seen a cock as big as Johnny's in your life, let alone had one that size inside of you; you worried he might not even fit. Part of you began to panic, worried you had perhaps bitten off more than you could chew, but the thought of having him in your mouth, pleasing him, shook that feeling away. You were too far gone to consider backing out now; you ached for him.

"What's the problem, sweetheart? Never seen one this big before, huh?" He laughed, stroking your hair, obviously proud of his immense size.

You shook your head, "N-no"

"It's okay, doll. I think you know what to do with it" You wrapped one of your hands around him, placing the other against his thigh to stabilise yourself. And gently, cautiously, you ran your tongue along the sensitive underside of him from the base to tip, drawing a satisfied groan from Johnny's lips.

"F-fuck that's good" That was all the encouragement you needed. You curled your soft lips around his leaking tip, lifting yourself slightly on your knees to reach. The taste of his pre-cum on your tongue made your whole body flutter, so you slid your mouth lower, wanting to taste more of him, eager to feel him stretching you out, filling you up. His hands tightened in your hair, gripping but not moving, just guiding as your lips slid up and down in perfect rhythm with your hand around him before you took all of him in. The heavy feeling of his flushed, thick cock against the back of your throat made you choke around him, the sound of which earned you another deep moan from Johnny.

"You're so fucking good at that." He held your head in place for a moment, your nose pressed right up against him. You could barely breathe, but you didn't want to move; it felt too good having your mouth full of him, and you were completely and utterly lost in the stunning moment. Looking up at him through wet eyelashes, tears pricked at your eyes. Johnny thought he'd died and gone to heaven; he'd never seen someone look as breathtaking as you with your mouth stuffed full of his cock, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth, and tears falling from your eyes.

He pulled your head back, all the way off of him, before shoving it back down again, forcefully but not violently. You swallowed around him as he filled your hot, wet mouth once more, licking and sucking when he'd bring you back up for air. The sight of you kneeling there at his feet, looking up at him with pretty, wet eyes, as he forced himself into your mouth over and over, was like a work of art to Johnny; he couldn't recall ever seeing anything as magnificent.

"Shit, I'm close, you're doing so good, sweetheart", Johnny cursed through gritted teeth, his hips jerking involuntarily. He was losing control of himself fast, and you took every single hit with a soft moan that vibrated deliciously around him. It sent shockwaves of the deepest of pleasures through him, enveloping him in a luxurious ecstasy.

Not wanting the fun to end, you released him from your mouth, strands of spit clinging to your lips. Johnny sighed in frustration at the sudden, unwelcome loss of contact. You flashed him a wicked grin before taking both of your hands and wrapping them around him, feeling every pulse, every vein. He looked huge in your small hands. It was truly a sight to behold. Johnny thought so too as he looked down at you in awe, watching as you expertly pumped your soft hands up and down his now glistening shaft. He looked perfect, soaked with a delicious mix of your spit and his pre-cum.

"I fuckin' knew you'd be a good girl for me, saw it in your eyes when you first walked into the emergency room" He stroked down your face with one hand, guiding your chin up to look at him. The eye contact filled you with butterflies, and you felt yourself dripping down your thighs. Never in your life had you felt such pleasure from performing for a man; you found it tiring usually, but with Johnny, you thought you could go all night. And you would, if he wanted you to, at that moment, you would've done anything he asked.

You dragged your tongue along the entire length of him again, keeping your eyes locked onto his, moving one hand to gently palm his spit-slick balls, the other still softly twisting the base of his twitching cock. Pre-cum glistened as it leaked from his flushed head, and you licked it up, not wanting to waste a single taste of him.

"F-fuck baby, you're, you're so-" Johnny couldn't finish his sentence, too lost in the moment to even think straight. It drove you wild to see such a strong man come undone so uncontrollably. You wanted to savour the moment, to keep it in your memory forever.

He retook control, pushing your head back down to take all of him in. You hollowed out your cheeks as he fucked your mouth feverishly, using you to get himself off, as if you were just a toy for him to play with, which you thought in a thrilling way you were. His movements became sloppy as he drew close to his finish, so you took over. Licking, sucking, swallowing, doing anything you could think of that would bring him over the edge.

"shit, I'm gonna-" Johnny pulled you off of him but kept your face close as he jerked his aching length in his fist, you looked up at him with your mouth open and tongue out, waiting at his feet obediently. If there was a sight more glorious than that, Johnny didn't know of it; just seeing you like that was enough to bring him to his end. He cursed loud, wild obscenities as euphoria crashed over his body, thick ropes of his cum painted your face, whatever you caught in your mouth you swallowed hungrily, you wanted to savour the taste of him, as if his load was your last meal on earth.

The moments after were filled with just the sound of Johnny panting, trying to catch his breath. His hand traced the side of your face as he looked at you, admiring how flawless you looked on your knees for him, your face painted with his cum; as though he was an artist and you were his most perfect canvas. He knelt to your height, so you were face to face; there was a glint of pride in his eyes, pleased with his work.

“You’re mine now, you know that, right?” Johnny dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, smearing the sticky mess he’d left behind just moments before and admiring you, adoring you.

There was no use denying it. You no longer cared about what the sensible thing to do was anymore; you couldn’t deny yourself of him any longer, not now and not ever again. You knew you’d never be the same after your encounter with Johnny. He was like no man you’d ever met, and you knew that no one could ever live up to him; so you were entirely his, your body, soul and mind, all Johnny’s.

You nodded, a silent acknowledgement.

“good girl”

requests are open masterlist

[potter-solomons]

MORE NEED TO READ THIS.

[lyralu91]

Oneshot: James Delaney

hoodeddreams13 asked:

"Hi! I'm not sure if you're requests are still open for James, but I was wondering if I could request something based off the following:

"Did you care?" + "I wanted everything."

From the prompts list: dialogue prompts: three words by @/promptsbytaurie

No pressure and thank you 🖤 (it does not need to be a James × reader fic if you do write it)"

A caring confession

James admits he has feelings for a childhood friend. ❤️ (James Delaney x Fem OC) Warnings: none (just a bit of intimacy and light sexual tension). Dialogue prompts are highlighted in red. Word count: 1951.

“He’s been lying to me this whole time! I cannot believe it!”

She stormed past James, leaving him to hold the front door open with a stiff expression. He stood there, pipe in hand, blinking like he wasn’t particularly pleased to have a visitor.

Saying that, he wasn’t at all surprised to see her.

He closed the door with a grunt and moved his head, far too slow, to follow her march into the front room. 

“I just met Clara for a walk and she told me the most awful things about him! Things I refuse to believe! But then there’s this, she brought me this,” she said, half shrugging her coat off, half waving the morning paper at James as he came to stand in the doorway. “Written proof of his bloody lies! Right there for everyone to see.”

About time, James thought but waved it over with an uninterested noise, brows drawn together, puffing on his pipe. He had already guessed what she wished to show him: the announcement of a certain engagement. 

Angelica claimed the old armchair by the fire, sighing hard as she sat, then leaned down to undo her boots, only to stop midway to pull off her “bloody hat!”. Her chestnut curls were heavy and wild around her face, her cheeks all rosy from the bitter spring cold.

“I hate hats, I hate gloves, and I hate men,” she said, tugging her gloves off and slapping them on the dusty footstool like she’d given all men in London a collective slap across the face. The poor piece of furniture was then shoved aside, making room for Angelica to kick off her boots, only she pushed it dangerously close to the fire. 

“Careful…” James muttered with a cautioning glance from where he was pouring them both a brandy.

Angelica carried on like she couldn’t care less if she set the whole house on fire.

“Clara even said she had ‘had her suspicions’. Can you believe that? All winter she kept it from me. And now he’s off to marry some Louise or Louisa I haven’t even heard of! She should’ve just told me!”

She stood up and nearly knocked the glass from James’ hand as he stood there, calm as ever, offering her a drink.

“And would you have cared?” he asked, composed amusement coming through his deep voice.

“Of course I bloody would - it’s all I’ve cared about for months! - all I’ve been able to think about!”

James watched her drink, nodding like he knew that to be true, while his grunt seemed to say “but that wasn’t what I asked”, then moved to sit on the sofa. He lowered himself with a groan, slurped around the rim of his glass and kept his eyes on her. Leaning back lazily into the seat, he sought her gaze with his head tilted to the side, blinking deliberately as if ready to prove a point.

“And did you care for all the things I told you about this man? Hmm?”

Angelica scoffed from where she stood by the fire, back towards him, cradling her drink in both hands.

“I was there, if you care to remember,” James said, voice lowered in a story teller’s lilt, eyes lit by something wicked and patronising. “On that very night…”

Angelica rolled her eyes at the way he clearly intended to mock her first meeting with Mr Homburg, the handsome Swiss merchant she had fallen in love with.

“Watching you dance… Acting as if you were already - ”

“Yes, James, I remember very well how you stared and sulked and followed me around, behaving like a right -”

“ - yees, like someone who cared for you,” he rasped, like it had been the right thing to do and like he’d happily do it again. “Yes,” he nodded. “I cared. And I tried to tell you. I did.”

This was concluded with another nod and a hefty swig of brandy. It burned its way through his chest and he sucked air through his teeth, lulling his head towards the fire.

He sighed. He seemed tired, but there was something restless in the way he studied the flames, eyes twitching imperceptibly, as if touched by hidden frustration. 

For a while he stayed quiet, then said:

“But did you ever care to consider why I was there in the first place?”

Angelica frowned, confused and caught off guard by the question. She knew he hated those parties, of course she did. So what - did he want an apology? Was he trying to make her feel guilty for going? 

As if his question wasn’t actually meant to be answered, at least not yet, James continued.

“The things I told you that night, and the things I did, I did because I could not stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

This only deepened her frown and she glanced in his direction, increasingly uncomfortable, as his voice had gone darker and his gaze suddenly felt like a physical hold on her. Like hands on her waist.

Angelica took a steadying sip of brandy. Swallowed hard. 

His words almost sounded like a confession.

“Why care for anything that was said or done that night…” she said, quietly into the fire, as if the flames had brought her back to something forbidden or pleasant, or something questionable in between. Something confusing. “None of it matters now anyway.”

“But it does,” James said, sweeping his glass of brandy through the air for emphasis. “Because you’re here, yes? In my house. Caring for a man who does not love you.”

Angelica snorted, knocking back the last of her drink, screwing her eyes shut. It angered her to feel a tear tumble down her cheek. She brushed it off like nothing had happened, turned around to face James and spoke with fragile conviction. 

“And what do you know of love?”

She eyed him stiffly up and down, chin raised like a shield of spite, then stomped past him to pour herself another brandy.

James caught her wrist and snatched her down on his lap. He ignored her half-hearted thrashing and the snappy “let go of me!”, holding her in place as he calmly set his glass down next to him, on the sofa.

Sprawled beside him, almost mockingly, was the morning paper. He crumpled it slowly into a composed fist and raised it in front of Angelica’s face, narrowing his eyes like she better listen carefully. 

“I know that this… this isn’t love.”

He lowered the paper a little, searched her face for a reaction, then grunted a nod and let it fall to her lap. Angelica didn’t flinch and kept her eyes forward, too stubborn and too startled by the way he held her. 

“I also know,” James continued, speaking close to her shoulder, very aware of the rise and fall of her chest, “- that whatever that man did to you… or however he made you feel -” now he loosened the grip on her wrist, thumbing the soft skin over her vulnerable veins, “- was not out of love.”

She could have sworn he glanced at her lips then, and the part of her that felt trapped seconds ago, no longer wished to move away from him.

“Power - and lies…” James whispered theatrically, so raw and soft at the same time, like he was relieved but sorry to tell her the truth about dear Mr Homburg. “That’s all it was, Allie.”

He watched her swallow, chin still raised as she refused to look him in the eyes, but the skin around her collarbones flushed at the use of her childhood nickname.

James kindly lowered her wrist onto her lap and withdrew his hand to lean back into the sofa. With a grunt he clasped his hands high on his chest, as if making a point of keeping them away from her. His eyes however, were locked on her. Unblinking, unwavering. Knowing.

Angelica didn’t move from his lap. Maybe out of spite or stubbornness. Maybe for other reasons. 

The sputtering of the fire seemed louder, closer, as if the room had turned into a giant hearth, enveloping them in teasing, flickering heat. James found himself contemplating - no… admiring - her beautiful curls. They suddenly looked softer, heavier, there for him to touch, as they moved up and down with her chest. 

His eyes shot to her hands as she scratched the spot on her wrist where he had touched her. James inhaled slowly through his nose and Angelica opened her mouth to say something, and when she spoke, her words were as breathless as she looked. 

“Why were you there, James?”

“Hm?” he grunted, deeply absorbed by her fingers, stroking her wrist now rather than scratching.

“Why were you there in the first place? At the party?”

He scowled and made a noise that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to answer. It made her feel like he wanted, and waited, for her to figure it out on her own.

She glanced at him sideways, his gaze flicked up to meet hers, and her neck flared up again.

This time James couldn’t help himself.

Head tilted slightly to the side, he reached out to brush a thick lock over her shoulder, humming a noise of approval when she visibly shuddered at his touch. 

“I think you know…” he said, letting his hand ghost along the length of her hair, so very tempted to swirl a lock around his finger. 

“James, you -” that’s when his other hand came to rest on her thigh, his palm all warm and heavy.

She closed her eyes and another unexpected tear rolled down her cheek, brimming with anger and relief at the same time. His touch had made her clutch her knees, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands or needed support to sit up straight. 

“You should’ve told me,” she breathed, cursing the way her dress felt restricting with each rise and fall of her chest.

“But I did,” he said candidly, his right hand coming to rest on her upper back, thumbing her shoulder blade as if reminding her of all the years he’d cared for her.

It was a calming gesture that did nothing to calm her, as their eyes met briefly and James began to sit up. Eyeing her chest and neck, he claimed her space, weaving his head like a patient, curious snake in no rush to proceed. 

“No,” she said, gripping her knees and looking ahead of her, refusing to acknowledge how close he was and how she wanted him even closer. “It’s not fair, I’ve… I never knew what you wanted. How you felt or -”

“Oh I wanted everything…” he murmured in a dark lilt and slid a soft palm up the back of her neck. “Mhm?” He looked up at her under raised eyebrows, forehead creased as if asking for permission to continue, or to tell her there was no going back after this confession. “With you.”

James thumbed the back of her neck, nodded and added: “I still do.”

Without startling her, he brushed the newspaper off her lap. There was nothing intimidating to the action, only conclusive, like it was no longer of any use and had been sitting there for far too long.

“Why don’t you, put that on the fire, then come back here, and sit with me.”

When Angelica didn’t answer, he pressed his palm against her lower back, urging her to stand up. To make a decision.

As if James had been waiting all this time to say it, he dipped his head towards her ear, so close she could feel his breath, and whispered:

“Go on now. Burn it.”

[potter-solomons]

hey.

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Tommy Conlon x f!Reader

“Groupie Love” part 2

Tommy Masterlist Updates account

You finally made your dream come true, you fucked Tommy Riordan. The bad news? He’s acting like it never happened. Lucky for you, Mad Dog Grimes is around… Let’s just hope Tommy’s the jealous kind.

You can read part 1 here. Or not, there’s not much plot anyway, just enjoy the porn

warnings: smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, creampie, bulge rubbing, fingering, rough sex, belly bulge, jealousy, canon-typical violence and blood, reader might have a bit of an unhealthy obsession.

You’d come to learn a big lesson: Tommy Riordan was the kind of guy to fuck you like a rabid dog and never again address it.

You couldn’t understand how a man could do such a thing. One moment he was on you, desperate, gripping your hips like he needed something to hold him to this world, fucking you like his life depended on it, like you were a drug and he was addicted, like nothing in his life had made sense before he entered you. You’d feel the hitching of his breath against your throat, his broken moans as he spilled inside you, everything about him felt real in that moment.

And the next, it was cold, deathly silence again. That same man who’d had you trembling, would now barely look at you. Ignoring you like you never existed. Avoiding you like the plague. He’d pass by without a word, fixing his eyes somewhere past you. And every time, it was like being erased, like you were nothing more than a bad memory he was determined to forget.

And it’s not like you were expecting him to go put a ring on you the next day, you weren’t that naïve, but you’d at least expected him to go after you for more moments like this, for those fleeting, breath-stealing minutes of satisfaction, for quickies in the locker room after a fight, for a blowjob on the parking lot.

Because even if Tommy only ever wanted you for your body, then you’d be happy to be his fucktoy, and serve him in any purpose you could, in any way he wished. You’d let him use you, take from you, leave you trembling and ruined… anything, as long as he needed you in some way. Because the moments when he did, when his eyes met yours and that cold, guarded man let something break through… those seconds felt like oxygen. Even that was better than nothing, because even then he’d look at you for an instance. And God, you’d take that, just an instant of being seen by him, over the eternity of being invisible again.

But what Tommy didn’t know is that the more he tried to ignore you and push you away, the bigger your obsession for him grew, and the more you’d try to get close to him.

You were still there at every fight, first row, screaming his name the same way you’d screamed it when he had had his cock buried inside you weeks ago. And now you’d found out, from a friend of a friend, where his gym was, and so you were there every morning, no exceptions, sitting on a bench as you watched him beat up a punching bag or train with other guys on the ring for hours. You’d sip cheap coffee gone cold, pretending you belonged there, pretending you weren’t just waiting for him to notice.

Tommy always pretended he didn’t see you, like his eyes just skipped over you, like you were part of the background. He never akwnolodged your presence, not a glance, not a nod, nothing to prove you were real to him anymore. And whenever you tried to talk to him he just brushed you off and waked faster, like he wanted to be anywhere but near you. As if you were a ghost visible to everyone else in the room but him. You could call his name, reach out, stand right in front of him, and he’d still move through you.

And you were getting fucking tired of it.

So when you spotted Mad Dog Grimes at the gym, leaning against the wall after training, staring you down with that filthy grin of his, you let yourself linger.

Not because you liked him, not because he was your type or because you had the minimum interest in him. But because you knew that if there was a person that would make Tommy’s blood boil after seeing you with, then that person was Mad Dog. You wanted the reaction. You wanted Tommy to feel something, anything, even if it was rage.

And he noticed instantly.

“Well, well,” Mad Dog sweeped his eyes over you, head to toe without shame. “Didn’t know Tommy’s little shadow could shine on her own.”

You tilted your head, curling your lips into a smile that wasn’t entirely innocent. You knew you could get any guy you wanted. Anyone except for Tommy, obviously. “Maybe you’ve just been too busy to look.”

He barked out a laugh as he stepped closer, invading your space with the confidence of a man who never cared about boundaries. “Oh, I’ve looked, sweetheart. Believe me. You parade around here in those tight little outfits… all that ass, tits bouncing while you’re staring at Riordan like he’s the last meal on earth. Hard not to notice.”

You felt the burning on your cheeks extend through your face, but you didn’t step away. Instead, you leaned in just enough to tease him. “Maybe I’m tired of waiting on someone who won’t give me the time of day.”

That earned you a whistle from him. “You hear that, Riordan?” he said louder, making sure Tommy could hear across the gym. “Your girl’s thirsty. Maybe she needs a real man to wet her throat.”

The whole gym stilled for a moment. Tommy was across the mats, with taped hands, and sweat dripping down his neck after sparring. He hadn’t so much as glanced your way in days. But now… Now he was staring.

He flexed his jaw, his blue eyes looked darker than ever. He didn’t move at first, just stood there. But even as he tried to remain stoic, he still clenched his fists, and for a second, it looked like he might storm over right then and tear Mad Dog’s head clean off.

Grimes smirked, clearly enjoying the show. He leaned closer to you, speaking loud enough to be heard by Tommy. “Bet you taste sweet, huh? Bet you’d spread those pretty thighs for me easy. Riordan doesn’t want you, but I’ll put you on your back, make you scream—”

You gasped when a loud bang cut him off, it was Tommy slamming his fist into the locker door across the room, making the steel dent under the force. 

It’d taken all his self-control not to go over there and kill Mad Dog. Every ounce of discipline in his body he used just to pick up his bag and walk out of the gym, without looking back, because he knew he’d lose it the second he saw Grimes’ stupid smirk as he fucked you with his eyes. That asshole had no right to leer at you, to imagine how it’d feel to have his hands on your body. Not when Tommy was the one who’d had them there first, not when that precious body belonged to him, even if he couldn’t admit it yet.

Watching Tommy leave the gym left every nerve in your body lit on fire, because for the first time, he had shown you exactly how much he did care.

Four days later, the gym reeked of sweat. There were posters for the upcoming fight plastered on every wall. Mad Dog Grimes vs. Tommy Riordan. As if the universe had plotted to arrange that fight just when tensions were rising between the two of them. Because now every day, you were at the gym, but not for Tommy, for Grimes. You stood where Tommy could see you if he wanted to, your laughter too loud, your smile too sweet, pretending not to notice how his eyes darkened every time Grimes came near you.

You sat close to Mad Dog, passed him his bottle of water whenever he needed a sip, cleaned the sweat from his body with a towel, as if daring Tommy to look away. All while looking over at him, holding his stare whenever you caught it, showing him exactly what months of him ignoring you had turned into.

You let Mad Dog tell crude things to you, the kind of things you only wanted to hear Tommy say. You laughed at them, and forced a smile you didn’t feel. You let him ogle you like a piece of meat, let his eyes crawl over your skin. But all was worth it if in the end it brought Tommy to you. If it made him snap. If it made him remember what it felt like to have you.

Mad Dog leaned against the gym wall, smirking, watching Tommy like a vulture circling. “So,” Grimes drawled. “That little groupie of yours. She your lucky charm or something? Always screaming your name, always chasing after you?”

Tommy ignored him, landing another punishing hook into the bag, but his shoulders were stiff, and his breath louder than usual.

Mad Dog chuckled, pushing off the wall. “She comes to me now, you know. Just the other day, she told me she wanted a real man to put it in her. Said she wanted to see what I could do with that tight little body of hers.”

Tommy froze. Just for a second. He knew Grimes was bluffing, but it didn’t make him less pissed.

And Mad Dog saw it. Tommy’s reaction only made him widen his grin with cruelty. “Man, I bet she tastes sweet,” he kept on, circling closer. “Bet she’s all soft and wet when she climbs up on you. The way she dresses, man… little skirts, tits bouncing in the front row. You think that’s for you? Nah. That’s for me now.”

The bag swung lifeless on its chain as Tommy dropped his hands, clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles went white under the wraps. His hood shadowed his face, but it was easy to tell that his jaw was locked tight.

Mad Dog stepped closer, mocking him now. “I’ll make her scream louder than you ever could. I’ll fuck her against these ropes, right here in this cage, and let anyone see who she really belongs to.”

That was it. Tommy lunged, shoving the bag aside, his body colliding with Grimes so fast the man staggered back. He fisted Grimes’s shirt, slamming him against the wall. And when Tommy spoke, his voice was a murderous growl.

“You open your mouth about her again—” He pressed his forehead to Grimes’s, their breaths mingling. “—and I’ll break your fucking jaw before the bell even rings.”

Grimes just laughed. “Oh, I hit a nerve, huh? Pussy got you whipped, Riordan? Thought you were here to fight me, not play house with your little slut.”

Tommy cocked his fist back, every muscle trembling with the urge to crack it across Mad Dog’s face. For a second, it looked like he might, but before he had the chance to, the coaches rushed in, pulling at his arms, shoving Grimes back before it could explode right there.

But Tommy still never moved his eyes from him. Grimes grinned wider. “See you in the cage, lover boy. Hope she’s watchin’ when I break you.”

The words hung in the air as they were dragged apart by the trainers. Tommy didn’t fight the hold, not really, but you could notice the violence on his stare. When he finally turned away, he spotted you.

You were standing there by the wall, after hearing every word. He softened his gaze for just a flicker, and it felt like it was just for you. But then he was storming toward the locker room, shoving past anyone in his way, as if he didn’t walk out, he’d kill Grimes right then and there.

And you knew, when that fight finally came, Tommy wasn’t stepping into that cage just for a win. He was stepping in for blood.

The arena was alive. The big fight was tonight, and everyone knew it was going to be brutal, Tommy against Mad Dog was a classic. The crowd was already hungry for blood.

You’d spent the last hour at the prep area, Mad Dog had dragged you there with him, but you were there to see Tommy, knowing he would eventually notice you. Grimes leaned against the wall in his fight shorts, already sweaty from warming up.

“Look at you, pretty thing,” he stepped close enough to brush his chest against yours. “All dolled up again. You ain't here to scream for Riordan tonight, huh? Nah, I'll give you something else to scream about.”

You knew what you were doing. So you smiled, leaned in, and pressed your mouth to his. Your lips made Mad Dog groan, and he immediately pushed his tongue into your mouth, sliding his hands down to your ass. He grabbed it hard, digging his fingers in like he owned you, then gave you a loud and stinging slap that echoed in the narrow hallway.

You gasped into the kiss, arching against him, letting yourself be seen and heard.

And you were. Because when you broke the kiss, you turned your head just to confirm what you suspected. Tommy was there, standing just a few feet away, looking at you and breathing like he’d just gone ten rounds already. He didn’t move, just stared.

Mad Dog laughed against your neck. “Guess he don’t like sharing. Too bad I don’t care.” He smacked your ass again, harder this time. “Maybe I’ll fuck you after I put him down in the cage. Tonight you’re going home with a real winner.”

You barely heard the words that came out of Grimes mouth. All you could think of was Tommy’s stare. He finally turned away without a word, his trembling fists at his sides as he walked toward the cage.

The announcer called the names, but you barely heard it over the pounding of your heart. Tommy climbed into the cage first, with an unreadable stare. And then Grimes walked out, with wide arms, and a smirk, playing to the crowd like a showman. He pointed at you in the stands, winked, and blew you a kiss. The crowd roared, half booing, half cheering.

Inside the cage, as the ref checked gloves and mouthguards, Mad Dog leaned closer, just within Tommy’s earshot.

“You hear her scream for me yet?” he gave him a cruel grin. “I’ll fuck her in the back when I'm over with you. She’ll come crawling to me after she sees what a real man can do.”

From where you stood, you noticed the way Tommy began to breath harder, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to, because once the bell rang, he snapped. Tommy didn’t dance around, or wait to size him up. He went straight in, moving his fists with brutal precision. A jab, then a cross, then a hook. Grimes stumbled, laughing, trying to mouth off even as blood sprayed from his lip.

“That all you got, lover boy?!”

Another hit. A knee to the ribs. Tommy drove him into the cage wall. Every punch was more than a strike, it was a punishment. You heard the crowd screaming in shock and in frenzy, but all you could see was Tommy being furious, and terrifying in the way he refused to stop.

Grimes tried to swing back, but Tommy ducked it, caught him, and diving his fist into his gut so hard he folded. Then another hook. Then an uppercut that made him snap his head back like a ragdoll.

Blood poured from Mad Dog’s mouth, but still he tried to talk. “I'm gonna enjoy bending her—”

Tommy silenced him with a brutal left, then a right, then a flurry so violent the ref had to jump in.

“Stop! Stop!” They rang out the bell. The ref pulled Tommy off while Grimes slumped against the cage, barely conscious.

But Tommy wasn’t done. He broke free of the ref’s grip, charging back and pinning Grimes by the throat against the cage with his forearm, cocking his other fist, ready to end it right there. 

“You ever say her name again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

It took three men to drag Tommy back this time, and in that moment, you weren’t watching a fighter celebrating a win, you were watching a man who’d beaten another man bloody just to prove a point: you were his.

The fight had barely ended when Tommy shoved past the medics. He didn’t acknowledge the crowd chanting his name, or bother with the fans trying to catch his attention. All he could focus on was you, as if the rest of the arena had ceased to exist.

You barely had time to stand before he was dragging you down the corridor. The way he gripped your wrist was like iron, you could tell he was still vibrating with the rage and adrenaline from the fight.

“Tommy—” you were breathless from trying to keep up, but he cut you off.

“Not a fucking word.”

He slammed the locker room door shut behind you, and before you could process it, you hit the metal of the lockers with your back first. Tommy cagged you with his body, and crashed his lips against yours on a desperate kiss. When you gasped, he took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours.

He put his hands everywhere all over your body. One moment he was fisting in your hair, the next he was clawing at your waist, kneading your tits, dragging you up against his chest. When he pushed you closer by the hips, you felt him pressing his cock through his shorts, already thick and pulsing.

“Still think about him? Still think about that fuckin’ dog touching you?”

You smirked, because you knew exactly how to stoke that fire. “He said I’d scream for him…”

That was it. Tommy wrapped a hand around your throat, pinning you harder to the lockers. “The only screams coming outta your mouth are mine. You hear me? I beat that fucker bloody for even lookin’ at you. I’ll end him if you even breathe his name again. You think you’re funny? Throwing yourself at that piece of shit before my fight?”

You parted your lips, but no words came out. The sight of him like this, so furious and jealous, had your pulse racing in ways you had never felt before.

He leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours. “I saw his hands on you. Saw him slap your ass. You fucking like that? You like making me watch?”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe I just wanted you to notice me.”

He slid a hand down, grabbing the curve of your ass so hard it made you gasp. “You’re mine,” he rasped against your mouth. “Not his. Not anyone’s. Mine.”

Before you could respond, he spun you around and shoved you chest-first against the wall, pressing a hand into your back, keeping you pinned, while the other yanked your skirt up over your hips.

You felt the thick press of his fingers against the gusset of your panties, already soaked through from watching him fight, from seeing his body move inside that cage, slick with sweat, veins bulging, fury burning off him. The fabric of your panties clung to you, sticky, your slick was spreading as he pressed harder.

He rubbed two fingers over your clothed clit, slow at first, then rougher, making you twitch just from the friction. “This is what you wanted, huh? Getting me so worked up I can’t see straight? You wanted me mad? Jealous?”

You whimpered, a sound breaking out of you before you could bite it back. “Nnh—Tommy—” You arched your body, pushing back against him without meaning to, chasing the pressure of his fingers. He dragged his knuckles against the seam, catching just right, and you shuddered, trembling, your panties already damp enough that the friction turned wet , a slick shck-shck noise between you every time he rubbed.

He tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so his mouth was at your ear. “You don’t know what the fuck you’ve done, girl. I’ll ruin you for that.”

And then, in a quick motion, he pushed your panties aside and slammed two thick digits into you to the hilt, the wet slap of it echoing in the small space. The force of it made you cry out, slapping your palms against the wall with a smack as your whole body jolted forward. He fucked his fingers into you hard, driving the air out of you with a broken gasp every time his knuckles met the slick heat between your thighs.

You moaned, biting down on your lip to stifle it, but he growled in your ear, “Don’t you dare hold back. Let everyone hear who you belong to.”

Two of his fingers were enough to have you screaming for him. You had to gasp for air, to steady yourself, as the brutal intrusion forced you open around him. Everything about Tommy was massive, and his fingers were no exception, thick enough that every push stretched you wide, but the sweet ache was blooming deeper with every plunge.

He still had one hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to bare your throat, keeping you arched and open for him while he worked his other hand inside and out of you mercilessly. He curled his fingers inside you dragging along the drenched heat until he found that spongy spot that made your legs shake. He pressed into it again and again, until your breath turned to a whimpering ah—ahh—fuck, every sound spilling out helpless for him.

“Say it,” he grounded the heel of his palm into your clit in circles that made you seize. “Say who you fuckin’ belong to.”

“You,” you were barely able to speak through the moans tearing from your throat. “I’m yours, Tommy—”

He was twisting and scissoring his fingers inside your warm walls. Every thrust made you drip more slick down over his knuckles, sliding down to his wrist, until his hand was drenched in you.

He hit that spot again, the one that made you shake uncontrollably, and he didn’t stop moving his palm, grinding and pressing against your clit. The push of his fingertips against your g-spot and the rough pressure of his hand outside had you unraveling fast.

“S-so—oh—g-good!” you moaned, and Tommy kept moving his wrist faster, until you arched into his touch, crying out, “I’m g-gonna—ah—Tommy—!”

With a moan that tore itself from your throat, completely shameless, not caring who might hear through the walls, you clenched down around his fingers and came hard. It ripped through you, the kind of orgasm that left you trembling, with slick thighs, milking his fingers.

Tommy felt every pulse of your cunt gripping him tighter, squeezing him so sweet it made him groan. He watched your body go limp against the wall, your inner walls still fluttering with aftershocks, each contraction pulsing around his fingers. When he finally drew his digits out, stretched between them there were slick strings, and you whined at the sudden emptiness, rolling your hips back toward him like you couldn’t stand being without him for a second.

He didn’t let you breathe, instead, he dragged those soaked fingers down, rubbing them over your swollen pussy lips, spreading your slick everywhere. Every time he brushed your clit, you jolted, a little ahh spilling from your mouth as he smeared the mess you’d made, painting your cunt with it until it gleamed.

It looked good enough to devour, perfect, glistening, his. But the aching weight straining against his shorts stopped him. His cock throbbed, painfully hard. If he didn’t get inside you fast, he knew he’d spill untouched, just from watching your pussy twitch and shine for him.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ do that again,” he blazed his eyes into yours. “Or next time, I won’t stop at until I kill him.”

And then he kissed you again, just as rough and desperate, sealing the promise in your mouth. “You liked that? Liked him touchin’ you? Slappin’ your ass like he owned it?”

You whimpered, shaking your head quickly, but he tightened the grip on your hair.

“Don’t lie to me. I saw you kiss him. Saw you let him put his hands all over what’s mine.”

You bucked your hips back against him, chasing the solid hardness pressed against your ass. You were screaming for the stretch, the fullness of him inside you. You needed it… needed his cock splitting you open until you forgot your own name.

“I only wanted—” the words tumbled out, breaking apart as he rutted once against you, teasing just enough to make you whimper, “—wanted you to notice me.”

Every time you moved, you smeared slick across the front of his shorts, the hard line of him grounding against your soaked folds.

“So you let that piece of shit put his mouth on you? Did you like it?”

“No—Tommy, no—” you gasped.

He slipped his hand down, rubbing his thumb hard over your overstimulated clit, forcing your body to react even as you shook your head. “Your body says different. Bet you got wet for him. Bet you liked it.”

You whimpered, clenching your walls around nothing. “That’s it,” he said. “You let him kiss you, but you came on my fingers. Mine. You’re mine. Always mine. Don’t ever forget it. Don’t ever let him near you again.”

You moaned, arching against him, feeling dizy from the heat of his body. “I won’t. I only want you.”

He pressed his cock against your ass through his shorts. The way it throbbed was an undeniable proof of what you did to him. He dragged his teeth along your jaw.

“Say it again.”

“I only want you.”

Tommy kissed your lips harder, until your mouth was swollen and you could barely breathe.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He sounded so close to the edge. “You picking me over him… it fucks with my head. Makes me wanna take you right here, up against this fucking wall, let everybody see you’re mine.”

You were silently begging for him, desperate to be filled again. You could still feel him from weeks ago, the stretch of his cock inside you, the way it had hit that spot so perfectly you’d seen stars, and now every second without it was torture.

He grabbed your hand, forcing you to follow him, his stride was furious. “Not here. Not where that bastard can see. You’re coming home with me. And I’m not letting you leave ‘til you can’t even remember his fucking name.”

The night air hit your skin when Tommy shoved the locker room door open. He didn’t bother with explanations or even glances at anyone still milling around the halls. He was gripping your waist and dragging you through the back corridors and out into the parking lot like you were the only thing that existed.

His car was waiting under a streetlight. He yanked the door open, shoved you into the passenger seat, and slammed his own door shut on the driver’s side. His knuckles were white on the wheel as he shoved the keys in the ignition.

You licked your lips, sneaking a glance at him. He was trying hard to keep his eyes on the road, but the straining of his cock in his shorts left him with an obscene tent he was trying his best to ignore.

It was as if a magnetic force dragged your hand there, one second you were sitting still, and the you cupped the thick bulge straining against Tommy’s shorts, rubbing him through the fabric like you couldn’t help yourself. Tommy groaned the instant you touched him, and he flicked his eyes off the road for a split second just to look at the way your small hand was gripping the outline of his hard length, stroking along it lazily.

You moved your fingers to tease the silhouette of the head, tracing the shape through the fabric. It was so hard it felt like touching a rock, the swollen tip pressing insistently into your fingertips every time he shifted in his seat, every time he jerked his hips in helpless response to your touch.

You rubbed him harder, dragging your palm along the line of him, and Tommy couldn’t stop the moan that tore out of his throat. You slipped your fingers under the hem of his shorts, trying to get your hand where you wanted it, trying to wrap your fingers around the heat of him properly, but he reacted fast. He shot one hand from the wheel to your wrist, gripping it to stop your hand just as your fingertips brushed bare skin.

“Enough,” he said, pushing your hand away before you could touch him, dragging you back into your seat. “Wait ’til we get home.” He knew that if you kept touching him, he’d finish right there in the driver’s seat. He was that pent up, so stupidly close to spilling in his clothes,.

He sped up, dropping his hand to your thigh, squeezing so hard it bruised, a gesture you could almost confuse with affection. After a couple of minutes, you arrived to the driveway of his house. He didn’t even bother shutting the door behind you, just grabbed your arm and yanked you out. The place was dark except for the faint glow of the TV downstairs, as if someone was there.

“Upstairs,” he growled as he clamped his hand on your hip, dragging you inside and pulling you toward his room. You didn’t even have time to breathe, let alone think.

You couldn’t quite believe it, you were in Tommy’s house. Not the gym, not watching him on the arena, but in his actual bedroom. After months of him ignoring you, he’d brought you here. Even if it was only to fuck you, even if it was just for convenience... that didn’t matter right now. Because you were here. Inside the place where he came back from the cage, where he slept, where he was human and unguarded.

In the same motion he slammed the door shut, he shoved you onto his narrow bed, until your back bounced against the thin mattress. He yanked your clothes down with impatience, twisting your skirt, ripping your soaked panties with his fist, shoving your top up around your chest. His shorts hit the floor in seconds, freeing his swollen and angry cock for the first time in the night.

You were on his bed. The same bed where he rested his battered body after breaking men apart. You felt a surge of something close to pride, because you were the one he’d brought home. Out of all the girls who screamed his name from the stands, waving signs and grinning for his attention, you were the one here. You were the one lying on his bed, the one he’d chosen to touch, to undress, to see him not as the fighter, but as the man underneath.

He crawled over you like a predator closing in, pinning you down with his weight as he wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking once before dragging the wet head through your folds. It caught on your clit, slick and messy, smearing your wetness over his length as he ground against you, nudging the blunt tip against your entrance again and again until you whimpered. He lined himself up, pressing the cockhead against your hole. You were trembling for him to push in and split you open.

“You made me lose my fucking mind tonight. Made me fight like an animal, made me drive home with my cock hard as a rock.”

As much as you needed him, you couldn’t help yourself… couldn’t let the opportunity of teasing him a bit more go away, even if you were in no position to do so.

You swallowed and dared it. “If you don’t stop ignoring me…” You smiled wickedly. “Maybe I’ll go back to Mad Dog.”

That got him. His whole body went rigid.

“What’d you say?” His voice was a growl against your ear.

You smiled. “Maybe I’ll let him fuck me. He wants to, you know. He’s been thinking about it since the first time he saw me.”

Tommy’s breath turned sharp as he tightened his hand on your hip.

“Bet his cock’s big, too,” you went on softly, taunting, your tone sugar-sweet. “I wonder if he knows how to use it. If he could reach places you don’t.”

That broke him. “You think this is fucking funny?” he snarled. “Think I’ll let you even dream about him touching you like that?”

You arched beneath him, sliding your fingers into his damp hair. “Maybe he’d fuck me better. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore me after.”

A dark sound ripped from his chest. He grabbed your thighs, forcing them wide until the stretch burned, and then he slammed his cock into you in one brutal thrust that made the bed frame crack against the wall. The impact stole your breath, a cry tearing from your throat as you raked your. ails down his back.

“Better than me?” he barked. His thrusts were brutal, merciless. “You think any man alive could fuck you better than I do?”

Your breath caught, as he drove his cock so deep inside you it short-circuited every thought. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, only feel the thick stretch of him slamming into that spot again and again. Tommy didn’t give you a second to breathe or adjust, he just fucked into you rough and fast, snapping his hips, each thrust harder than the last.

“That’s what I thought,” he hissed, wrapping his hand around your throat just enough to hold you still. “You’re mine. You’ll never take his cock, never. You’ll choke on mine, take it until you’re ruined, and you’ll beg for more.”

He fucked you harder, each thrust a brutal punishment that left you gasping. You clung to him, digging your nails into his shoulders, the force of him was overwhelming every sense. Every sharp snap of his hips drove him deep, slapping his balls wetly against your ass with each thrust.

“Tommy—ahhh—fuck, you’re so deep—”

“Shut up,” he snarled, though his thrusts only got harder. “Don’t say a fuckin’ word. Just take it. Take what’s mine.”

You spread your legs wider without thinking, desperate to take him deeper, your body clenching tight around him with every brutal stroke. Your cunt was dripping, every thrust forcing out more of your slick until it ran down between your thighs, coating his cock and pooling on his bed. The wet sound of him fucking into you filled the room, and the harder he drove into you, the wetter it got, the noise of it echoing in the room—shck, shck, shck—as your arousal glistened where your bodies met.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say no one else’ll ever touch you. Say it, or I’ll keep goin’ ‘til the sun comes up.”

You whimpered, shaking your head. “Tommy, I—fuck, I can’t—”

“You can.” His voice was pure grit. “You’re gonna. I’ll fuck it out of you, I’ll fuck you till your body gives me everything.”

Your body was already unraveling, tears pricking your eyes from how good and brutal it felt. “No one else will touch me,” you gasped. “Just you, Tommy—fuck—just you.”

That seemed to soothe something in him, though he didn’t slow, didn’t soften. He kissed you then, messily, all teeth and breath and anger, like he wanted to devour the words straight out of your mouth.

“What’d he say to you?” 

You moaned, trying to keep the tears at bay as he pounded into you. “Tell me,” he growled, thrusting harder. “What the fuck did Mad Dog say to you?”

“He—” you gasped, your words breaking as your body jolted under him. “He said… he said he’d give me something to scream for. That he was gonna fuck me—”

Tommy snarled, slamming into you so hard the bedframe screeched against the floor. “He fuckin’ wishes,” Tommy hissed against your ear. “You don’t want his cock. You want mine. The only cock you take. The only cock you’ll ever fucking need.”

“Yes,” you moaned, the heat in your belly coiling tighter with every brutal snap of his hips. “Only yours,” you cried out. “Only you, Tommy!”

He groaned, almost feral, scraping his teeth along your shoulder as he fucked you harder, deeper, like he wanted to leave his mark inside you where no one else could ever reach.

“You hear me?” he rasped, sliding his hand down to press against your stomach, feeling the way his cock filled you so deep. “Nobody else puts his cum in this pussy. Nobody else even looks at it. I’m the only one. Always.”

You were trembling, your body wrung tight, every thrust driving you closer. “Yes, Tommy—fuck—only you!”

The feeling of his bulge pressing up into your stomach only drove him wilder. Every time he sank into you , he could see where his cock was stretching you from the inside, and how your body molded around him so completely he might as well have been carved into you. He flattened his palm over that thick and raised outline of him inside you, he could feel the blunt head of his cock hitting you deep with every thrust, punching into that tender spot that made your walls clamp down helplessly around him.

“You feel that?” he pressed down just enough to make you gasp as he hammered his cock up into you again. “That’s me. That’s all me inside you so fucking deep I can touch it from the outside.”

He let go of your neck only to shove two fingers in your mouth, groaning when you gagged around them. “Bite down on me if you gotta scream,” he muttered, pounding into you so hard your body shook.

The taste of salt and sweat filled your tongue as you clamped your teeth gently around his fingers. He kept shoving his cock into you, making you roll your eyes back. You cried out around his hand, muffled and needy.

The groaning of the bed and the banging against the wall was a rhythmic thud that no amount of muffling could hide

Tommy pressed his forehead to yours as he grabbed your thigh and hauled it higher, forcing you open for him. The shift let him sink even deeper, driving in to the hilt until the fat head slammed against your cervix with every thrust. The impact made you gasp, he was grinding so deep inside you it felt like he was trying to stay there forever.

“Fucking tight. Always so tight for me.” His breath hitched as he bottomed out. “This pussy’s mine. No one else gets it. No one else fucks you open like this.”

Your muffled moans vibrated against his fingers, your eyes glassy, your body trembling as the mattress squealed louder with every thrust. 

“Shut up,” he said, though you hadn’t made a sound, your mouth was still gagged on his hand. “So fucking loud. But I can’t—” His bucked his hips with savage and uncontrolled motions. “—I can’t stop.”

His mind flicked, just for a second, to Paddy, probably still sitting in the living room. And Tommy prayed the damn TV was turned up loud enough to cover the squeak of the bed with every thrust, the thud of the headboard hitting the wall, the wet slap of his balls against your soaked pussy, and your cries and whines. He should’ve slowed down. Should’ve cared more. But the risk only made him fuck you harder, every needy ahh, every choked little fuck, sent a thrill down his spine.

You clenched tight around him, gripping him like a vice as you locked your legs around his waist. You dug your heels into the hard muscle of his lower back, pushing him in deeper until you could feel every inch of him, his cock bartering against the deepest spot inside you. The new angle made your vision blur, stars bursting behind your eyes.

It hit you all at once, you seized, trembling, and your orgasm tore through you. You screamed into his hand, biting his fingers when he pushed them deeper. Your pussy pulsed, milking his cock with every wave of release while he kept driving into you, chasing his own climax.

The way your cunt swallowed him and tried to trap him inside, pushed him over the edge. Tommy growled into your ear, his thrusts were growing sloppy as your walls squeezed around him. The sound of your wetness splattering with every stroke only pushed him closer.

He let out a guttural snarl as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside you. Hd ground his hips against yours in desperate circles, forcing every hot pulse of his release deeper until there was nowhere left for it to go.

He was lost in it, so completely gone. He didn’t pull out, didn’t even think to ask if you were on the pill, he didn’t care. The thought of anything but claiming you never crossed his mind. All that existed for him in that moment was the need to mark you, to fill you up, to make sure you carried the proof of him inside you.

And mark you he did. You felt the warmth of his cum flooding your womb, coating your walls until it began to seep out around him. The thick seed dripped down between your thighs, slicking the mess already there as he stayed buried inside you.

The bed gave one last violent creak under the force before going still. He stayed buried inside you, pressing his chest to yours. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from your mouth and gripped your jaw, forcing you to kiss him, still rough and possessive even in the aftermath.

“You tell me everything he says to you,” Tommy said, still catching his breath. “Everything. And I’ll fuck it out of your head every time. You don’t carry his words in you. Only mine.”

And the way his cock twitched inside you, still hard, you knew he wasn’t finished. Not even close.

“You’re not sleepin’ much tonight,” he said against your hair, already breathing rough again. “I’ll wake you up every time I need it. Gonna keep you wet for me all night.”

He could think about the consequences tomorrow. Tomorrow he could wake up, swear, drive to the drugstore, shove a box of Plan B across the counter and you’d have to take it, right? But now, right now, none of that mattered. Not when you were lying there, with that dazed little smile that came only after being fucked until you couldn’t speak. Not when his cum was still leaking from you. All he could think about was keeping you there, right where you were, so he could wake up in the middle of the night, roll over, and slide back inside you. As many times as he wanted.

“I’m never letting you go, Tommy,” you murmured, curling up against him, pressing your cheek to the steady thud of his heart.

He stared at the ceiling. Fuck. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Follow me on my updates account so you don’t miss any updates😼 @cinnxmxngxrlupdates

A/N: I had so much fun writing thisssss. I love a possessive and jealous man🙏🏻 And having reader make him jealous with none other than Mad Dog felt like such a reader-coded move. I felt like it just fit the plot perfectly.

Hope you enjoyed this second part! Thank you so much for reading🩷

[potter-solomons]

This is still one of the sexiest things I have ever read relating to Tommy.

He slid a hand down, grabbing the curve of your ass so hard it made you gasp. “You’re mine,” he rasped against your mouth. “Not his. Not anyone’s. Mine.”

Holy fuck. Rereading this over and over.

“You’re not sleepin’ much tonight,” he said against your hair, already breathing rough again. “I’ll wake you up every time I need it. Gonna keep you wet for me all night.”

It doesn't get sexier.

@cinnxmxngxrl 🤍🤍🤍

[tickettride]

Like real people do

Alfie Solomons x Fem!OC

[warnings: war, angst, talks of religion, wounded soldiers/blood and potential inaccuracies, unresolved sexual tension

AN: Very ashamed of how long it took (since May?...), and I'm honestly posting this without much confidence. But I've been away for too long, and although I don't have any time to write at all, I wanted to take these few minutes for myself. I hope you'll like it anyway. This is the last part taking place in 1917. In the previous part (1928), Sadie attended a women’s rights march, which led to police intervention and Alfie’s magical appearance. This one explains how the war separated them.

Neshomeleh: sweetheart/sweet soul in Yiddish]

masterlist | previous part

— six

August 1917, France

If you were the only girl in the world And I were the only boy Nothing else would matter in the world today

One minute, you smelled your own soap. The next, it was stale beer, smoke, and the sweat of men who’d come straight from the camp or the nearest river to scrub the dirt from their faces. You were a stark contrast to all that, with your cheeks flushed from the last-minute call.

The music was almost imperceptible behind the loud voices and the cheers. Whether it was fake or emphasised by the booze, the men all seemed to be breathing again. Some of them sang to the girls next to them, earning sheepish laughs and bold kisses. 

I would say such wonderful things to you There would be such wonderful things to do

In the chaos of it all, though she blended in the crowd like you did, you spotted Ellen first. Almost bashfully, she waved at you to come over to your reserved seat. Every other seat was taken by nurses from each ward, chatting lively.

“You look lovely.”

You'd barely had time to think of what you'd tell her.

Secretly pleased she'd noticed, you smoothed the front of your dress out of habit, giving a small shrug. Compliments were always nice, but they were even nicer when they came from someone you were beginning to truly appreciate.

“It’s new," you spoke loud enough. "Secondhand, but—”

There was nothing extravagant to it. That dress was something that had caught your eye a week ago on a rare day out. The hem grazed your calves, with a tiny forget-me-not brooch pinned to the collar. It looked like something you’d wear at home on a hot summer day, and though the weather was nothing like on those days, you liked the idea of dressing like it was another Sunday spent with your mother and brother.

In the dim pub that was too loud, you allowed yourself to loosen up.

The mirror reflecting your face behind the bar was close and big enough for you to notice how bad your hair looked. A quick brush through it only seemed to make it worse. 

“D'you want my drink?” Ellen asked in your ear, wordlessly telling you it was too strong for her. 

You weren’t one for losing yourself in booze on Sundays, but it seemed to be the only logical thing to do to save your friend from the embarrassment.

Ellen whispered a quick thank you, which you accepted with a smile. It tasted vaguely like gasoline, but when would you have the chance to lose control of yourself again? To stop thinking about the daily horrors and the crushing guilt?

It was exactly what those two nurses had told you to get you to come. Men help you overcome; booze helps you forget.

The conversation around the table drifted from the men around to the news coming from each family’s letters. What they'd eaten two Sundays ago. Which parish was now tainted by such a scandal big enough to be shared. You listened with one ear, chuckled at one of the jokes Maggie made, and let yourself ease into the afternoon.

The drink felt soothing, not as warm as a hug but enough to let your eyes wander to wide shoulders, jawlines, and hands curled tightly around a glass. Ogling like the men did back at home. You weren’t better than them.

When catching the particular smell of cologne, you let yourself look a little longer than you needed to.

There was that longing again, pressing against your ribs, urgent and unrelenting. When would you feel hands fondling you again? Touching you where they shouldn't? You knew you shouldn’t have had such thoughts, but it'd been too long and you weren't the only one complaining anyway.

Resting your chin over your hand, you couldn’t stop the flush spreading through your veins at the sight of two Tommies standing by the bar, their behinds catching your eyes before you even realised it. It felt almost criminal. Then, the one on the right turned around like he’d felt it, meeting your guilty eyes. 

Alfie. 

You straightened up, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your body betray you so openly. Nudging Ellen’s side, you pretended nothing had happened, staring at her like a fool while your fingers idly toyed with your glass.

“What about that red skirt you bought? I thought you’d have worn it today.”

A little puzzled by your sudden interest, she laughed. “Heavens, no. It makes my bum look enormous. Thought I’d pass it on to Alice.”

“Absolutely not. Keep it.”

“I’m not really used to wearing this sort of frock,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose.

From the corner of your eyes, Alfie’s figure shifted. Along with your disoriented heartbeats, he came closer and closer, pushing through the crowd. Your mind seemed to spin from the thrill of it, and from the fear of having to admit you’d stared at him. Or at his arse, that was. 

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?" You swallowed, aware of his eyes on you. "It looks lovely on you."

Instead of answering, Ellen set her attention on Alfie. That little traitor.

“Captain Solomons.”

Keeping your eyes on her was useless. Though you tried to hold hers, it failed miserably, and the only thing left to do was to gather some courage and face him. 

“Captain.”

And God, did he look fine. A stubble of beard now graced his cheeks, making him look both tired and mature. He wore his khaki uniform trousers, his shirt rolled to the elbows, and his service cap tucked under his arm. His black boots looked new and shiny, which was more than you could say about your poor shoes. 

“Sadie.”

His eyes seemed to assess you too, dragging over the fabric of your dress and the calves that showed. That morning, in one of his rare letters, Andrew had written how much he missed your shapes. The heat of that confession had lingered, but it didn’t come close to this. To such a wordless study of your form. The ache was back, so fierce it was frightening.

“Oy, Captain!” One of the girls shouted, leaning over the table to get a better look at him. “Where have you been?”

His eyes flitted to hers, but it didn’t last long before they settled on you again. “Not where I wanted to be, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Amused chuckles echoed around the table, all of them under the spell. Of course, they were. 

You broke his gaze, pushing away your glass as if you hadn’t drunk it like water just seconds before. 

“You look lovely," Alfie said.

Your heart skipped a beat. You offered a smile, hoping it looked natural enough.

“Thank you.”

“Come out with me,” he added, his voice deep and unwavering. “I know a place.”

You couldn’t help but glance at Ellen, maybe to reassure yourself. Her sincere smile seemed to say she didn’t mind you leaving. But you sort of did, deep down. You knew what some men said about the nurses behind their backs. Patch me up and I’ll spread your legs. With the serious proposals every week came the lingering touches, the heavy gazes. You’d seen Maggie slap one of the Tommies out of reflex once, and she’d washed her hands like a maniac for so long you’d worried she’d start weeping. 

“I’m not sure." You licked your dry lips, your eyes flickering to the girls who ignored you. “I don’t really… go out to unfamiliar places with men I don’t know.”

“You’re safe with me, yeah? Just give me ten minutes.”

On the other hand, stepping out of the noise for a moment of calm with him seemed tantalising. Wasn’t it what you’d dreamed of for days? 

“Alright. Ten minutes.”

Alfie didn’t smile or acknowledge the girls who watched you rise, brushing your sweaty palm over your dress. He kept his attention on you, setting his hand on the small of your back as you crossed the pub. The first physical contact. 

“Hittin’ the wrong notes, isn’t he?”

Looking over your shoulder, you hadn’t expected him to be so close. On the other side, the singing man over the table pointed right at you when your hand landed on the doorknob. You doubted he’d heard Alfie, but the coincidence made you laugh. 

Stepping outside was more stressful than having to face him after days. The music became muffled, the voices low and grave. In this different realm, you saw Alfie in a different light. 

“It’s a five-minute walk if we’re fast enough.”

It wasn’t a five-minute walk. Five minutes was how long it took for you to get out of the village, surrounded by hays and a wary man here and there. The whole time, Alfie made sure you were following alright, but he didn’t talk either. You followed in silence, your shoes sinking slightly in the dirt path as the cottages gave way to fields, then the ruins of a small chapel.

You went to it, throwing a look behind. No one was following. 

“Here,” Alfie said, opening the creaking door.

You entered without a second thought. The walls bore traces of red painting from an ancient world, the figures faded and flaking, but still visible if you squinted. Centuries ago, people might have sheltered here from war too, watching the same friezes, breathing in the same dust. Had they feared for their lives, too? Come here with people they weren’t supposed to be with? 

“Do you pray?” you breathed out, in awe at such a simple and yet haunted place. 

“Not in chapels, no.”

The soldier walked further in, his boots crunching until he reached the altar.

Though he couldn’t see you, you nodded. “I know. I heard you mumble to yourself the other day.”

Your footsteps echoed a moment later, lighter, until you settled onto one of the middle benches.

You hadn’t expected him to talk again so soon. 

“Sometimes I almost think about getting shot again just to end up in your tent.”

You laughed, but it came out half a breath. “Don’t be daft. I’d rather you walking ‘round in one piece than laid out in front of me. With me. That’s just… double pain.”

Alfie gave a quiet huff, almost a scoff, turning to face you. “You? Nah. You’re the one bit of peace I’ve had in months. Far from a pain.”

He saw you smiling when he walked down the altar again, sliding into the bench behind yours. His cap landed beside him with a soft thud. 

“What do you see when you pray, um?” he asked.

Aware of his loud but calming presence behind you, your pulse went mad again. So you grounded yourself by studying the old stonework and each passage etched onto the walls, and the names onto the bench before you. A date. 1699. 

“Not much anymore,” you said, tracing the date with your fingertips. “A face, sometimes. My brother’s. Sometimes just dark.”

“Still out there?”

“No. He wanted to, even went to enlist. I think he didn’t answer quite right to their questions, and, well, they said they didn’t accept village idiots. Only… normal and strong lads. My mum was furious, see, but… I think she was relieved she wasn’t sending her son away.”

Alfie didn’t speak right away, which made it feel like a confession. Not that you’d done a lot at home anyway. 

“People don’t know what to do with someone who ain’t like them,” he eventually muttered. 

A quiet hum of agreement left your throat. “He’s just different.”

“He writes to you?”

“Yes. More and more, actually. Says he wishes I was home, but I’m not sure where I’ll go when it’s all over.”

“To your man?”

You weren’t sure if that was a question or a fact. 

“I suppose.” You finally turned around to face him, your arms resting over the back of the bench. His hair was still neatly combed. “What about you? Straight to the bakery?”

“Suppose that’s the plan. Not much glory in it, is there?”

“Still better than nothing.” Your chin came to rest upon your arms. “You’ve got to hold on to this. That’s what you want, after all.”

His gaze flicked from the altar toward you again. “You miss home, Sadie?”

“I do. I was close to my mum, see.”

“Dad?”

“We barely see him.”

Alfie nodded, reaching for a loose strand of hair that hung over your arm. He touched it lightly, like he was afraid he’d stain it. 

“Mine was a bastard. Proper one. My mum died a couple of years ago—back where we lived.”

“In London?”

“In Russia, love.” Alfie glanced down at his finger still wrapped in your hair, then let it fall away, resting his hand on his thigh.

You nodded, understanding. Well, not quite, but enough to frame him. You rose slightly, just enough to relieve your twisted back, and settled back to your previous position, eyes on the details behind Alfie. He looked at your face, your hands, but you didn’t feel anything but calm. The booze setting in, probably. 

“You know, my mum dragged me into a place like this one day,” Alfie spoke again after a few minutes. “Told me she was meeting a friend, but that friend looked far too masculine and red in the face, right, to be just friendly. That daft old dove. Always knew she was far too cheerful for a single woman.”

“Really?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “Swear on my boots. Bloke told me to go pray while they had a talk. What was I gonna do, eh? Pray for him to keep his trousers on?”  

You burst out laughing, completely oblivious to the world still turning outside. “You’re awful!”

Alfie grinned at the sound, clearly pleased as he glanced down at your mouth. “A proper bastard too, he was. We met his wife on the way out.”

Your smile turned into a wince, though it was impossible not to be amused by anything he said. “My mum sort of had this lover too, when I was a kid. His wife was expecting twins.”

Alfie let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Christ.”

You laughed again, despite yourself. It was hard not to compare it with the quiet moments you’d once shared with Andrew, back when things still felt certain. Upon thinking of him, your smile dropped a little. He’d written he could go home for two weeks, asking you to ask for the same treatment. Your own letter was still unfinished. The last words had been written just before Ellen suggested you join her in the pub later on. 

Of course, I’ll come home.  

But for now, you lived in the present. So you stayed in the chapel for what felt like hours, your quiet laughter rising at times and falling again to gentle murmurs.

Like the song the drunk lads had sung in the pub, you were the only people in the world. You got to know each other better, and that was when Alfie started teaching you a few words in his mother’s tongue. Yiddish, he said.

“Shayna maidel,” he said, watching your face and your lips for how it might come out. 

It was quite troubling, watching him from so close. “What’s that mean?”

“You. Pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “You’re full of it.”

“No, no, this is sacred, innit? It’s no lie.”

You repeated the word slowly, tripping a bit on the sounds. He nodded, pleased.

“You’re a quick learner, neshomeleh.”

You bit down on your lip to keep the proud grin at bay, but it was no use. His own lips remained still, yet his eyes seemed to pierce your soul, stripping away your guarded thoughts one by one, slowly and expertly. The few men you’d known had always been so forward, so impatient. But here, as if the old stone walls were listening, neither of you dared speak your truest thoughts aloud.

His breath matched yours in tempo, just a touch quicker than before. Not quite rushed, not quite steady either. You saw the way his gaze dropped for a second to your lips and stayed there. Again.

Your heart stuttered. The kind of stillness that came before something else, something irreversible, settled in your chest. If you touched him, you wouldn’t be able to stop clinging to that comfort. A comfort that wasn’t reality. Andrew had already found your new house, in the centre of London.

“I’d better go back", you croaked out. "Ellen might be looking for me.”

“Right,” Alfie muttered, clearing his throat like it would break whatever tension had risen. 

You stood, adjusting your sleeves, grateful and resentful at once for the sudden chill in the air.

“Do you mind walking me back to the tents?”

Alfie lingered long enough beside the bench for your hands to almost touch again, already putting his cap on. 

“‘Course not,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

The sun was already sinking behind the clouds, drawing a close to that rare, beautiful day. Another man in uniform cycled past, doing a double take when he recognised Alfie.

Already, that familiar ache began to stir in your stomach. It only worsened when the tents came into view.

“I’d wish to see you again soon,” you murmured, “but I want you to be safe.”

Alfie came to a stop beside you, the entrance to your tent visible in the distance. It reminded you of one of the books you used to read to your brother, the one with a wide magic door where people always kissed each other farewell.

The tension between you faded into something softer, almost like it had inside the chapel. You should have prayed when you were there.

“I’ll come back whenever I get the chance, yeah?” Alfie replied, searching for your gaze. “Luck of the rank.”

Your lips curved. You finally looked back at him. “I’d forgotten I’m in the presence of a big head.”

Alfie gave a dry chuckle. “That’s right. Don’t go forgetting about me, yeah?”

He gave you one last look, something warm in the eyes, despite the hard lines around them. His hand brushed along your arm, lingering for a second, and he walked off, shoulders squared like he needed to keep moving or else he wouldn’t move at all.

You stood there, frozen. Wondering if you should have kissed him back there. If he’d thought about it too, and now regretted. How his hands would have felt around your waist. 

You noticed the glances from a couple of nurses, and even one of the senior officers across the path. They’d all watched. Feeling foolish and embarrassed, you picked up on your pace and slipped into the tent before anyone could ask questions. 

Ellen asked if you were alright. You just shrugged, unable to put words into what had happened. You felt like your mother and his now, like the unloved woman reaching for the first hand giving her enough attention. Only you were loved. Andrew just didn’t know how to express it.

Your response was kept unwritten.

I’ll come home, maybe. 

𓎢𓎠𓎟𓎠𓎡

It was a Wednesday when you saw him for the last time, at the end of the month. The day had been slightly calmer than usual until then. You’d been tending to the bed sheets, the metal-wire laundry lines sagging beneath the weight as you hung them one by one, almost slowly. You’d barely had time to breathe these past few days, and two men had already died in your arms that morning. Two completely innocent souls, whose last sight was your face. 

A shaky exhale came out of your lips at the memory. The gentle breeze carried it away, just like it carried on a shout over to your ears. A begging shout, coming from behind you. 

One of the Irish lads you’d chatted with just a couple days ago was limping over to you, leaving behind bloody footprints in his path. 

“I need help!” 

Barely twenty, the young lad almost collapsed beside you, saved only by your grip. His blood soaked into your freshly washed uniform as he leaned on you for support, each movement dragging you back into that endless cycle of scrubbing the stains away, only for them to return.

“I need help,” William repeated, the relief of having found someone clear in his voice.

“I’ve got you. Hold on to me.”

He was much bigger than you, but you managed to hold his weight without crumbling over. On the other hand, it was clear you’d lost weight and strength since the beginning of it all. You felt it when you rose from bed in the morning, and when you stumbled over anything, anytime. 

You helped William walk over to the closest tent, where other men whimpered in pain or snored softly.

“Easy now,” you huffed when the young man’s body fell down onto the first bed you saw, which smelled of someone else’s sweat. “Where are you hurt?”

His face twisted as his hands clawed at the mattress. “My feet. Can’t feel it no more.”

Without wasting any time, you removed the boot from the feet he held up. It couldn’t be any worse than everything you’d seen until then, and yet that feeling of unease never left your veins for a single second.

“I’ll have a look at it, alright? Don’t move.”

The sole was full of holes. It wasn’t a surprise he’d stepped over something sharp, even involuntarily. The blood had darkened all around, and in the middle of it all, a nail was planted into his feet, barely visible. But above all, the foul-smelling poured out of the boot and the bile rose in your throat, though you tried not to show it. 

“Jesus. I’d find you new shoes if I could,” you muttered over the reddened sock, already darkened by the dirt. “I’ll have to disinfect the wound and pull it out somehow.”

“I tried pulling it out myself.”

“You did?” You looked up, wincing slightly. “God, you could’ve made it worse, y’know.”

“It’s alright. I’ve heard you’re the expert with a needle, Sadie.”

“I certainly am not. Where did you hear that?”

“Solomons told me.”

You froze for a second.

“Solomons? He’s here?”

“Waiting for me out there. He’s the one who found me. I reckon he’s gone to help the rest of us.”

Nodding slowly like Alfie didn’t mean more than one of the usuals to you, you stood up to fetch a clean roll from the nearest trolley. The bandage slipped from your grasp, hit the floor, and rolled just out of reach. Awkwardly crouching to grab it, the back of your neck prickled under the weight of William’s curious stare.

“What else did he say?” you asked absently. A reflex.

“He said you patched him up once like it was nothin’. Wasn’t even lookin’ while you did it.”

Perhaps because you’d been too in awe with his words. 

“That’s not how I remember it. It’s going to sting for a second.”

William nodded, his jaw tight as you pressed the gauze to the open skin. Your hand steadied him by instinct. 

“He does have a knack for exaggeration, that one.”

A small smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it. And right there, in the bright light pouring in and the stillness of broken men, you told yourself you’d stop being such a coward. Act first, think later.

I won’t come home, you’d write to Andrew. He would never stir you the way Alfie did. He made you laugh, sure, but the laughter usually faded quickly. There would be no deep passion, no stolen moments and deep thinking. And there was nothing sad about that, except perhaps how your relationship would be reduced to nothing after all this time waiting and hoping for more.

Alfie might not feel quite like you did, but you had to try and get out of this life before you became one of those normal people. There was hope, tangible hope, and you’d cling to it like a life raft. You’d ask for a day off as planned on the same day as Alfie. Hell, you’d wait months if that meant feeling like your real self for a whole day away from the pain and constant havoc. It was quite daft, you thought, after this one secret moment in the chapel. But you hadn’t felt like this in years, and death was always lurking nearby.

That hope warmed your veins when you finally stepped out of the tent. The image of William’s tired face flashed behind your eyes, though you knew he’d try to find Alfie soon again. Which was why you’d nearly threatened him to stay right there, your voice lower than the passing nurse questioning the other men. 

“Stay put and, please, for the love of God, don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Even the wind had stopped breathing.

There was something theatrical in the way nature had prepared your way over to him. Alfie must have been on the other side of the camp, if not gone already. The thought made you quicken your pace along the pathways, avoiding medicine carts and drunk soldiers.

Someone yelled to go back to the tents. Maybe they yelled at you. But you didn’t stop. The thought of taking the matter into your own hands burned hotter than reason. For once, you were going to do something with your life.

Alfie was there.

You followed the line of his cigarette, skimmed over the full lips it rested between, then traced the sharp scar running across his hollowed cheekbone. His stare was heavy. And you weren’t breathing anymore, tethered to him by an invisible thread. He frowned slightly, surely wondering why you looked so strange.

Everyone falls in love eventually. But what we have, you and I, is something else. I feel so right when I’m with you.

You took one step toward him. Then another. 

Another voice called for you. Your eyes flicked toward the nearest tent, catching a glimpse of Ellen coming out of a tent. And time stopped when the inside of your eyelids flashed white, a deafening explosion following a second later.

You hit the muddy ground so hard, the shock knocked the air out of you. For a moment, there was nothing but ringing silence, smoke and your heavy pants. When instinct took over, your hands flew to your ears, bracing for another blast that never came. 

Panic seized your lungs as you scanned the chaos.

No sign of Alfie.

Your heartbeat quickened with every tense second that ticked painfully by. By then, they’d all started running and shouting in all the accents you’d grown accustomed to. The back of your throat burned with smoke and unsaid words. And in the middle of your coughing fit, you spotted Ellen on the ground, completely still.

The cry that tore from your throat was raw, scorching hot.

Your vision blurred the moment you tried to kneel, black spots swimming before your eyes. You were going to pass out. Die. Both.

Slumping to the ground, you saw your brother’s face before your eyes. Stupidly, the first thought that crossed your mind was relief that he wasn’t seeing any of this.

You glanced up at Alfie. He sat awkwardly, trying to rise, his eyes on you but his heart still with his duty.

Ellen coughed so loudly it tore through the chaos, and it made you scream her name again, though she was barely catching it.

Despite your knees screaming in protest, you half-ran, half-crawled to her, grabbing her face between your hands, cradling it softly as you studied her body and the spreading pool of blood beneath her head.

“Oh, Ellen,” you sobbed, voice breaking as her eyes rolled back. “Don’t leave me. You hear me? Stay with me.”

Voices shouted all around. One nurse yelled she’d get help. Someone else nearly ran over Ellen’s legs. Meanwhile, you promised her you’d never ever leave her. 

When the smoke began to thin, your skull pounding with the worst headache of your life, you caught sight of Captain Solomons being dragged away by two men. You ignored how badly he’d been hurt. You ignored whether he’d die of his wounds or live, scarred, the lovely baker he’d become. Right then, you also ignored that it was the last time, for eleven long years, that you would see his face.

[AN : This one ended up being much longer than the previous parts, but I’m so glad to finally be updating!! I wish they had more interaction during this period, but I also remembered Alfie barely recognised her when they met again, so it made more sense.]

taglist: @mistershotz @hoodeddreams13 @zablife ✧

[heylolita00]

[robinavitchslut]

🤍 eddie brock is a good boy - headcanon

first and foremost eddie is a nervous, sweaty little sweet baby and you can’t change my mind, sorry.

wordcount: 800

warnings: nsfw, minors dni!!

requests: open

masterlist

🤍Eddie isn’t the kind of guy that goes out and picks up women, he likes to call himself ‘old-fashioned’ but what he really is, is a nervous wreck around women.

🤍After things ended with Anne he thought he’d never find another person that was right for him, so when he meets you for the first time working at Mrs.Chen’s store he becomes a flustered little mess of a man.

🤍He’d instantly develop a sweet crush on you that makes him feel like a teenager again, but for the first few months he wouldn’t even make small talk with you, he’d be too worried he’d say something stupid and you’d think he was weird.

🤍Venom would relentlessly mock him for being a ‘stupid baby man’ for not being able to talk to you, which of course doesn’t make it any easier.

🤍One day he’d pluck up the courage to tell you a joke as you’re checking out his seemingly endless supply of chocolate, which he stumbles through and tells wrong.

🤍He’d leave red-faced and embarrassed but you’d think it was sweet how flustered he got over you. Venom would make fun of him for days because of it.

🤍After a couple more weeks of Eddie coming in, stumbling through small-talk and never being able to meet your gaze, you’d ask him out for coffee, just something casual so he didn’t feel too nervous about it, but of course he would anyway.

🤍He’d agonise for days over what he would wear for your date, what he would say to you, if it was really a date at all or just a casual friend thing. Venom would tell him that it was just a friendly outing because ‘why would a pretty lady person ask you out Eddie?, you’re a tiny man’.

🤍The night before the date Eddie wouldn’t be able to sleep, his mind too full of thoughts that he you couldn’t possibly like him in the way he likes you, which is made worse by Venom telling him the exact same thing.

🤍He would show up to the date a tired, sweaty mess with dark circles under his eyes, though he’s still just as cute to you.

🤍After the first date he’d be shocked when you ask him out again, this time for drinks in the evening, Venom too would be shocked that you actually wanted to see him again, telling eddie ‘she wants to see you again. There must be something wrong with her brain.’

🤍After about 5 dates he’d gather the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, and he’d only be able to ask you after at least 3 drinks, he’d be completely shocked when you say yes, but very excited.

🤍You’d have to take the reigns in the relationship, realising that Eddie wouldn’t initiate any kind of intimacy with you because he’d be so scared to feel like he was pressuring you, he wouldn’t want to push you away like he did Anne.

🤍The first time you have sex he’d ask ‘is this okay’ just about every 2 seconds, and would finish rather quickly. He’d be embarrassed about it despite you reassuring him that it’s really okay and it happens, Venom would tell him that it’s not okay and you’re lying, which makes Eddie feel worse.

🤍Eddie in bed would be very vanilla and it would take a lot of reassurance and convincing for him to get him to come out of his shell, but you don’t mind the challenge.

🤍Eventually you figure out that sex with Eddie works best when you’re in charge, so you tell him what to do and he always obeys, he’s always so eager to please you and would do anything you ask of him.

🤍He’d realise after some time that he actually prefers it when you’re in charge so he’d let go completely. He would stop listening to Venom’s voice telling him to ‘man up and fuck her like the little slut she is’ and let you use his body in any way that you wanted to get yourself off.

🤍Eddie would love it though, it turns him on watching you ride him, completely losing yourself on his cock, he’d love it when you talk dirty to him and especially when you call him a ‘good boy’.

🤍But most of all he loves the cuddles and head kisses afterwards, when you’re a panting sweaty mess collapsed beside him, stroking his hair telling him what a good job he did, how much you love him and how good his cock feels inside you.

[potter-solomons]

I want to tell Eddie he's a good boy 😭😭😭.

And reassure him.

And give him random neck kisses and hugs so he knows he's my baby boy.

And I love him.

[potter-solomons]

Tom after filming Harry for the day.

thank you @tomhardy_goddamnit on IG.

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