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#tom hardy fanfiction
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Hello madam.
7.  “Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard!”
With our feral Alfie of course.
🥰🥰
Can do, love!
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Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
To have him rucked deep inside you, while the morning is still lazy, quiet, and still, is the greatest of pleasures. Only the sound of rain softly pattering against the windowpanes is audible above the soft moans, Alfie's occasional deep, lustful rumble adding bass tones, his mouth gliding up your neck in slow exploration.
You cry out, and his kisses suck the breath from you, the tempo slow and rolling, no urgency, nothing fervid. It's like this with him more often than one would expect, the want and need for each other an unhurried chartering into the languidly erotic.
His big body fucks you deep into the mattress, the repeated grinding against your clit making sparks skitter, your hands clasping at the wide planes of his mountainous back, tits heaving beneath the crush of his thick chest. Taking your wrists, he pins your arms, sinking into you deeper, teeth grazing a spot on your neck that evokes the most blissful of glimmers.
It's rolling through you, gaining momentum as the rush hits hard, knocking you sideways, your flutters milking his cock until it jerks and floods you with cum, leaving you as mindless as you are breathless.
"Fucking hell," you pant, finally opening your eyes to see him smirking above you, soft kisses peppering your cheeks as his hands glide down your arms, releasing where he's had them pinned above your head. “Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard!”
He rumbles a chuckle, teeth nipping your jaw. "You always say that, until the next time, innit?"
You suppose he makes a valid point.
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potter-solomons · 8 months
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new kink unlocked™️
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428 notes · View notes
samantha-rae-velcher · 9 months
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The club
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Reggie Kray x Fem reader
Requested by: anon
Warnings: Angst, swearing, smut, fluff, use of a weapon, threats of death, Reggie because Why tf not.
A/n: 18+ NSFW if you don't like the warnings please don't read!
___
Y/n sat there on her couch thinking about the last few months, Reggie and her had gotten married 6 and a half months ago and here she is feel lost and unappreciated. He barely comes home, and when he does he goes straight to bed. Sometimes he doesn't even say "I love you."
Y/n was done with being ignored. She was done with Ronnie talking down to her like she was nothing, this had to stop and it had to stop now. She grabbed her coat, making sure she had her two daggers. Y/n marched out of the apartment, down the street, and halfway across town to the club. It was empty all except for, Reg, Ron, Teddy, and a few other men she didn't recognize.
"Reg." Y/n said from across the room.
"Be with you in a minute, love."
"Reggie, please. We need to talk."
"Yeah, well I'm in a meeting." The tone in his voice was some what aggressive, she couldn't tell if it was directed at her or not.
Y/n didn't care at this point, she trudged up to them. Pushing past the hurd of men, surprising Reg with her boldness.
"Nah, right now. You've been ignoring me for weeks, if not months. You stay out late doing god knows what, your brother always looks at me like he wants me to die. Strange men show up at the house, I'm constantly being watched by the police, and when you do finally speak to me it's "I'm in a meeting."
"Jesus, Reg. You gonna let her talk to you like that?" One of the men asked. "I think you should take her home and put this sluts mouth to good use."
Before Reg could do or say anything, Y/n grabbed the man by the back of the neck, and bashed his head off the bar. He stumbled back and went to take out his gun, but she kicked him in his stomach causing him to collide with a bar stool and fall on his ass.
She pulled him up by this tie, holding her dagger to his neck.
"What did you just call me?" She growled.
The man grit his teeth when Y/n pressed the blade harder against his neck, drawing blood.
"You dumb American bitch."
Reg watched as Y/n pressed her dagger into the man's side, his cries filled the club and probably reached the ears of nearby cops. The man laid on the floor whimpering as he attempted to stand.
"You ever call me that again and I'll kill you in the most painful way possible, are we clear?"
This new side of Y/n had the front of Reggie's pants tighten, his heart raced as he watched Y/n's eyes fallow the man while he ran out of the club.
"That's the kind of people you spend your time with?" She asked. "Him over me?"
"Y/n I-."
"You what? You promise to be better? You promise that things will change? You promise you promise you promise? Well guess what! I promise you this Reginald Kray, I promise you that when you get home, I won't be there."
She slid her wedding ring off her finger and set it down on the bar, swiftly leaving the club.
Reg picked up the ring, he felt like he had been stabbed in the heart. He loves Y/n with everything he is, he never wanted to hurt her.
"Well, sometime it just ain't ment to be." Ron's voice came from behind him.
"Shut the fuck up Ron."
Reg turned, putting the ring in his pocket. He bolted out of the club, looking up and down the street for any sign of Y/n.
When he entered their apartment, she was in their bedroom packing a suitcase. He entered and closed it as she turned back to the dresser.
"You're not going anywhere, luv." He whispered.
Y/n snatched a blouse out of a drawer, walked back over to her case, pushed his hand away and set it inside. Reg watched as she locked it and left the room, she set it by the door and went to grab her gun off the table next to the couch, but he swiped it up first.
"I said you're not going anywhere."
"Try and fuckin stop me, Reg."
With that, he dropped the gun onto the couch, made his way over to her and took her arm in his grasp. Reg pulled Y/n back to the bedroom and pushed her onto the bed, she sat back as he removed his shirt and tie. Reginald pulled her over, crashing his lips to hers. Y/n tried to pull away but his hand came up to the back of her neck, keeping her in place.
"You're not leaving me, Y/n." He growled. "I won't let you."
___
"Do you think he's gonna hurt her?" Teddy asked, checking his watch for the 8th time since Reg left.
Ron looked over at him and shook his head.
"My brother? No. He loves that girl too much."
Ted checked his watch again and began tapping his foot.
"Now I know you care about the girl, just stop tapping your fuckin foot." Ron said, pointing his cigar at him.
___
"So fuckin beautiful." Reg moaned as he rutted into Y/n, holding her arms down against bed.
"R-Reg please...I'm gonna cum."
He smirked and slowly brought his fingers down against her clit, rubbing tight circles, making her legs tremble and her head fall back against the pillows.
"I-ahh..." She cried out.
"Good girl, that's it cum for me."
Reg picked up his pace, his thrusts angled perfectly so he hit her G-spot each time. His hand wrapped around her neck and gently squeezed, making Y/n close her eyes.
"You like that, huh?" He asked. "You like it when your gangster uses you?"
Reg pressed his head into the pillow, with one last thrust he coated her walls. He rolled over and pulled Y/n into his side, both out of breath, they snuggled together enjoying each others warmth.
"I don't know if I can get Ron to apologize, but I most certainly try." He whispered.
"Ron is Ron, if he hates my guts...let him. He can be a stuck up crazy man all he wants."
"He cares for you."
"Bullshit."
THE END ❤️
I hope you enjoyed
Reblogs are welcome 🤗
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smuttyfantasyrecs · 10 months
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Tom Hardy
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🦋 anal 🦋 degrading 🦋 meeting the parents 🦋 praise 🦋 tattoo 🦋 virgin 🦋 personal assistant 🦋 ass man 🦋 calming 🦋 motorcycles 🦋 use me 🦋 I can't wait for you to break 🦋 friends to lovers 🦋 shy 🦋 bratty 🦋 innocence 🦋 pregnant 🦋 I want you 🦋 innocence 🦋 party girl 🦋 breeding 🦋 mirror 🦋 innocent 🦋 early riser 🦋 naughty girl 🦋 24/7 🦋 nipple piercings 🦋 miles and miles 🦋 jealousy 🦋 bath 🦋 i'm gonna take care of you 🦋 boob guy 🦋 bath time 🦋
@buckyownsmylife
🦋 undress me 🦋
@simplystevies
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Fire in My Blood
Bane x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)
Word count: 4908
Warnings: 18+, Non-con drug use, fuck or die (sort of), slight dub-con (but not really), unprotected sex, mainly PWP, unbeta'd
A/N: my first time writing smut so be gentle
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You woke up in bed, slow and groggy. The pain in your head was rolling through you in waves and you thanked your drunk self for at least closing the curtains so there wasn’t too-bright sunlight burning through your eyelids. Idly, you hoped that whatever you couldn’t remember doing last night was worth a hangover this size. You shifted to cradle your head in your hands but your hands didn’t move. Panic washed over you, sudden and icy. Your hands were trapped above your head. 
Forcing the panic aside, you tried to take in your surroundings. You didn’t want to open your eyes yet, in case you were being watched, so you listened hard for something, anything, to tell you where you were. 
No footsteps, no shuffling, no breathing outside your own. Aside from our hands, you were lying comfortably on what you assumed was a bed, complete with a pillow under your head and a blanket that smelled freshly laundered. The room felt bigger than your bedroom and you could hear a kind of white noise outside the walls, getting louder and softer in intervals like–
Waves. Water. 
You must be near the docks. Probably one of the abandoned warehouses frequented by one of Gotham’s handful of criminal enterprises. 
Speaking of criminals, you thanked your lucky stars for the recent training in analyzing and understanding your environment from the man that still sent chills down the spine of most Gothamites. 
You didn’t understand how you had caught Bane’s attention but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It took some time between your underground meetings and the handful of times he visited your apartment through the fire escape but you had molded a sort of companionship. He was gentler with you when you weren’t training. The glimpses you got of Bane the Man and not just Bane the Weapon had inklings of longing for something more worming their way into your heart but you squashed them to the best of your ability. You knew who Bane was and knew he could never see you as something more than what you had. 
Taking a steadying breath, you slowly opened your eyes. Only a sliver of the room was visible through your eyelashes at first but you didn’t see anyone else around. You blinked your eyes open and looked toward your hands.
Plastic zip ties held you to the metal headboard, biting into your wrists. You flexed lightly, testing their strength, when a door to your left opened and a man in a long white lab coat walked in.
Jonathan Crane was an objectively handsome man. The whole evil mad scientist thing left a lot to be desired although, knowing him, he probably had a drug for that too. His attention was on a clipboard he was carrying. Talking to himself in soft murmurs, he strode confidently over toward your bed. 
“Ah look who’s awake!” He finally looked up at you and smiled, full and genuine. “Perfect timing.” His gaze raked over you, cool and calculating, and it made your skin crawl, suddenly aware that you were dressed in only your bra and panties from the night before. The thought of Crane undressing you while you were unconscious had bile rising in your throat. 
“What am I doing here?” you fought to keep your voice steady. 
“I needed a guinea pig for something I’ve been working on lately. I was out looking for suitable candidates last night and saw you out with your friends.”
Something must have shown on your face because Crane waved his hand dismissively. “They aren’t here. They had too much alcohol in their systems and it would’ve taken too long for it to metabolize. I couldn’t risk that altering my results.”
Now your blackout made more sense. You had been out with a small group of friends at a bar just celebrating the end of the work week. Things had gotten a little fuzzy but you just assumed it was due to one too many margaritas. Crane must have slipped something into your drink.
Anger flooded you. “You kidnapped me to use me as a test subject?”
“You shouldn’t sound so ungrateful! You’re helping the cutting edge of science! Of understanding the human brain!” He sounded so earnest as if he truly believed in his work without a care in the world that he kidnapped you for it. 
The panic you had been fighting down, hit you like a train. You were trapped on a bed with a madman who had plans for you and no one knew where the hell you were. You wondered how long it would be until anyone found your body. You had to get out. 
“I needed you to be awake before I started the test, though,” he explained. “It will be much easier to judge how quickly the effects start if you're conscious.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a syringe and vial. The pale purple, syrupy liquid in the vial seemed to swirl as Crane pulled it into the syringe, his brow furrowed in concentration. 
With the dose measured out, he turned back to you. You shifted as far away as your binds would allow, inadvertently pressing yourself further into the mattress.
“You’re a smart man,” you tried to reason with him, “You know who I spend my time with.” 
Explicitly connecting yourself to Bane wasn’t something you wanted to do - whatever you two had felt tenuous at best - but desperate times call for desperate measures. No one would be dumb enough to touch someone with any direct connection to the man, right?
“Oh, yes, I know,” Crane’s smile was predatory, “and I’m counting on him coming to save his little pet.”
His palm pressed the side of your face into the pillow, keeping your neck extended even as you thrashed against the bed. The needle pierced the tender skin and Crane’s eyes glittered in the dim light as he released the drug into you. 
“You crazy bastard!” Your wrists were bleeding freely now, slow trickles running down your forearms and dripping onto the sheets as you continued to try and pull yourself free.
Whatever he gave you didn’t hit all at once. It started in your chest, warm and slow, and radiated outward, but warm grew into too hot all too quickly, curled around your lungs and ribs, and squeezed. Your breath stuttered on the next exhale. Part of you expected to see smoke trailing out between your lips. Liquid fire pooled low in your stomach and you were suddenly, painfully, aroused.
“What the fuck?”
Your heart pounded in your ears, overpowering Crane’s monologuing no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on it. Fire raced in your veins and you pulled against your restraints, sparks licking your wrists. 
Through the haze in your brain you could barely make out Crane talking about Lust and Fever and Sex and Orgasm and Death. Even firing on all cylinders, you didn’t know if you could find a good combination of those words. 
Something in the distance caught his attention and he grinned like a shark, all predator and sharp teeth. Crane knew what it meant too. 
“He’s gonna tear you apart,” you hissed. 
“Oh, on the contrary,” he spoke slowly and looked in your eyes, making sure you understood every word, a condescending lilt in his tone, “I think he’ll send me a thank you gift after this.”
He left with a chuckle that sent a chill down your spine even with the growing furnace inside you. 
With Crane out of sight, you squirmed to try and break the zip ties again but the new sensations had you gasping. Your wrists didn’t hurt so much anymore and what little pain made it through to your awareness landed just on the side of pleasurable.  The blanket underneath you rubbed against you everywhere, everywhere, and your cheeks flamed when you noticed the wetness in your panties. You tried to force yourself to lay still - to stop and think about your next move - but your hips rolled anyway, searching for friction you wouldn’t find. 
You squeezed your thighs together, chasing the orgasm you could feel rushing at you just beyond your reach. The coil snapped and it flowed through you like cool water down your parched throat. It broke the haze just briefly. You gasped a breath like coming up out of water.
If it was possible for you to blush further, you would’ve when you opened your eyes and were met with Bane’s. How much had he seen? 
The man stood over you, stoic as ever, and gave nothing away. He watched you silently, taking in everything.
“This is not one of his usual toxins.” He finally spoke. It wasn't a question but you shook your head anyway. 
“He said it was something he had been working on.” You swallowed hard, fighting a shiver. "He didn't start really talking until he had already drugged me and I couldn’t focus. Something about fever and sex and death but..." you trailed off, nervous and unwilling to really finish that sentence. Shaking your head was a mistake you learned as nausea hit you. “Needed a test subject.”
Bane nodded slowly, hard eyes glinting off the light as he looked around the room. “There’s a camera,” he mused. “He’s watching.”
“Sick fuck,” you seethed. 
Bane huffed out something that could’ve been a laugh and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. You startled both of you by moaning lowly. His touch was like a soothing balm and lit match against your nerves at the same time. 
His eyes were on your face but his fingers didn’t move.  
“Fuck, I’m sorry- I don’t know-,” you stuttered. “Can’t think- Too fucking hot.” You clenched your teeth, cutting off the half-formed thoughts you couldn’t stop.
Calloused fingers brushed across your forehead and you bit back a whimper. 
“You have a fever.”
You nodded, eyes shut tight. There was a heavy pause.
“You are…aroused.”
You turned your face away from him but nodded again, shame rocketing through you. Tears fell against your will.
“Please just get me out of here,” you whispered.
The zip ties snapped easily under his hands and you had to clamp down on your mind straying to thoughts of feeling those rough fingers on your skin again. Your core throbbed at the mental image alone. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, breath hitching. Vaguely, you realized you were gasping out a string of apologies when Bane shushed you, just a hiss leaking out of his mask.
“You are not in control of your body. Do what you must.” The words came out stiff, barely contained anger tingeing them but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you.
Dark eyes met yours as you searched his face, needing to see if he was serious. His sincerity was open and unwavering. The weight of his hand settled on your stomach, the warmth of his palm bleeding into the coil inside you and snapping it just as soundly as the zip ties. 
Your eyes rolled back and you groaned as that cooling wave shook through you, quieter this time. 
“It will be easier if I carry you out but it may be…uncomfortable for you.”
“Do what you must,” you parroted his words with a weak smile, hoping for levity.
A silent nod was the only reply and he was wrapping you up in the blanket you had been laying on. The texture was scratchy and it insulated the heat of your skin but you bit your tongue. Strong arms lifted you effortlessly. You buried your face in the blanket and settled against his chest as he moved. 
It was a position you had found yourself in before. You had a habit of falling asleep in places you shouldn’t and he often carried you to a place that wouldn’t have your back or neck screaming at you when you woke up. On one particular occasion, you had fallen asleep slumped over on the couch in your apartment and floated to awareness being lifted and carried to your bedroom. You felt like a child again, protected and cared for. Your nose pressed into his jaw, just under the line of his mask. He had laid you gently on your bed, still unmade from the morning, and brought the duvet up to your chin. You had tried to fight your way to full consciousness.
“Stay,” you breathed, afraid he wouldn’t hear. Afraid that he would hear and leave anyway. After a beat, the other side of your bed dipped with his weight, half laying, half sitting up against the pillows. You had rolled into him, soaking up his warmth. Later, you would  blame pressing your face into his chest on the fact that you had still been on the wrong side of consciousness.
His hand tentatively rested on your shoulder as if he didn’t know what to do with it. You let out a light hum, hoping to reassure him. A smile almost slid over your lips when his palm slid down along your spine to settle at the center of your back. 
Just before you slipped back into sleep, you swore you felt him press his mask against the crown of your head. 
“Little one,” Bane’s voice brought you out of the fog in your brain, “Are you with me?” 
You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head from the blanket cocoon. 
“Always,” you replied. You became mildly aware that you were in your apartment but you didn’t remember how you got there. How long had you been lost in your head?
“My men are taking care of Crane,” he said. You both knew what he meant but the fewer specifics you knew, the better. “Barsad will make sure that nothing from the camera he had in that room will be seen by anyone.” His grip on you tightened. “He will never touch you again.”
He deposited you on your bed and was standing over you once again. He didn't show any outward emotion. You didn't know what to say or how. 
"I'm sorry." You said anyway. It came out small and weak. Hell, you weren't even sure what you were sorry for. Getting kidnapped? Not being able to get out of the situation yourself? 
Your head was too full of feelings you didn't understand. You couldn't think straight. You had never been more aware of your own body before. The lingering feeling of Bane’s arms around you, the godawful blanket. You swore you could feel your blood flowing in your veins. 
Light fingertips ghosted across your forehead, pressing lightly on the creases between your eyebrows, and your eyelids fluttered closed. You bit your lip. 
"Does it hurt when I do this?" He moved his hand from your forehead to your wrist. His thumb rubbing just under the wound that the zip tie left. 
You shook your head, not trusting your ability to make any noise that wasn't wholly embarrassing. 
"I need to hear you say it." 
You swallowed hard. "No, it doesn't hurt. It’s like my body can't decide if it feels amazing or like I'm holding it next to an open flame." You rushed out. 
“What do you need?” he asked after a heavy pause.
A simple question that had your head spinning. Rapid fire flashes of his large frame over you, under you, those rough hands all over you, inside you. You bit down on a moan, nearly biting through your lip.
“Just talk to me. Please.” It came out shaky and too vulnerable. 
His brows furrowed. “That will not help with the effects of the toxin.”
Resolutely keeping your lips shut tight, another tear escaped down your cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb. 
“I cannot just sit by and do nothing when you’re suffering.”
You shook your head, the action making your head swim. “I can’t ask that of you. I won’t.”
His hand settled on your stomach. The pressure sent waves through you. The fire in your core roaring anew.
“You don’t have to ask. You just have to let me.”
Your glassy, tired eyes met his dark, earnest ones as you searched for something, anything, that would give you reason to say no. You weighed the option of just letting the toxin do what it would instead of ruining what you and he had. 
But you couldn’t deny that you wanted what he was offering.
“Okay.” You nodded lightly. 
You hissed as he shifted the blanket off of you. It felt like sandpaper against your highly sensitive skin. His gaze flicked up to you but kept on his mission, lightly tracing his fingers up your thighs. It might've tickled a little if you had a better handle on your nerves. 
There was only a slight pause in his movements before he was bending down to pull his boots off and then joining you on the bed, kneeling in front of you. His eyes searched your face as he spread your thighs, placing one of your legs on either side of his hips. You fought down every bit of embarrassment you could feel burning red on your cheeks and looked away.
“No,” he spoke softly but clearly. A calloused finger under your chin turned you back to meet his gaze. “Don’t look away, little one. You need to stay present and tell me if I do anything to hurt you or if you need me to stop. I want to help, not cause more harm. Understand?”
Only after you gave a small nod did he release your chin and return his hands to your inner thighs, higher than before. His thumbs rubbing small circles mere inches from where you needed him.
His eyes caught on the damp patch darkening the fabric of your panties. He made a single slow pass over your center with his thumb. You bit down on the inside of your cheek and let out a rough exhale, your fists curling into the sheets.
“Try to relax,” he rumbled, gaze flicking up to your face and back down. “I understand this must be unpleasant for you but fighting the toxin will prolong the effects and may make it worse.”
A whine escaped your clenched teeth as you forced your muscles to relax. His thumb began slow, even circles over your clit, like a reward. Pleasure rose quickly now that you had stopped pushing it down. 
 “Nothing said or done here will leave this room,” he assured you. “You are safe to do what you need to get through this.” He hooked a finger around damp fabric and pulled your panties to the side. The first brush of a callused fingertip sent a jolt up your spine. “Tell me that you understand.”
Your hips rocked minutely, chasing his touch. “I understand.” 
“Good girl.”
His finger slid inside you in one push and your walls tightened around him, sending you over the edge again. You couldn't be embarrassed about the noise you made even if you tried.
The toxin’s haze faded marginally again. In all honesty, you had hoped that an orgasm brought on by someone else would have been all it would take but, of course, Crane’s concoctions are never that simple.
As many times as you indulged fantasies of Bane in your bed, though you would never admit it aloud, you didn't want it to happen like this. Not when it was only like an obligation for him. 
The finger steadily pumping inside you became two and the stretch brought you out of your thoughts with a whine. 
Bane slowed but didn’t stop. “Does it hurt?”
You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just a lot,” you reassured him, moaning around the last word when picked up his pace again. “It’s like I’m feeling everything double or triple.”
“It’s good then?” 
He curled his fingers slightly, searching. 
“So good.” You choked on a gasp when he found the spot inside you that made your toes curl. Those rough fingertips massaged tight circles around it while his thumb copied the movement around your clit. 
Moans flowed from your lips unhindered. One of your hands reached down to clutch at his wrist while the other tightened in the sheets. 
You could feel the crest coming but it was just out of reach. Your head thrashed on the pillow, grinding your teeth. 
"Fuck, I can't. It's not-" you stopped with a whine, tears gathering in your eyes. Your hips rolled of their own accord in search of friction.
“It’s not enough,” he finished for you. 
"Crane told me that you'd send him a thank you gift for this." You blurted out. "Like this was something you wanted."
He froze. 
“He’s wrong, right? Of course he is,” you rambled, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “You don’t want this. Why the hell would you? I’m just me. An annoyance even on a good day, a hindrance on any other. I’m not-” 
Pressing his hand over your lips, he stopped your rambling. 
"Not like this." It was quiet but you heard it, you knew you did. Your gaze met his again and you just stared at him for a heartbeat then two, willing yourself to take a chance. Telling yourself it would be worth it. 
Fuck it. If it goes wrong, you can just blame it on the toxin.
You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling yourself further toward him. Your heat pressed against the obvious tent in the front of his pants. His hand fell from your lips as you dragged yourself up to him, close enough to share breath.
“Please.” You ran your nose along his cheek and quickly unhooked your bra. His eyes flicked down briefly once the lace was removed and laying on the floor.
“Little one,” he murmured.
"You're the only person I would trust with this." You pressed a firm kiss to the front of his mask.
A harsh breath hissed out from behind the grate. He took only a brief pause to gather himself before moving off the bed stripping quickly. Your eyes raked over every inch of newly exposed skin. Lightly tanned, criss-crossed with scars, and stretched over his wide frame and well-built muscles. You’d seen him shirtless before under much different circumstances and it was a sight you had guiltily used on nights when you were alone and you knew this was something that you would add to your shameful late night fantasies until the day you died. 
His cock slapped against his stomach as his pants hit the floor. The sight alone had a whimper crawling up your throat. He was thick, flushed red and leaking, and you couldn’t tell if the need to feel him inside you was more the toxin or your own. 
Your breath caught when his fingertips curled into the top hem of your panties. His gaze held yours until the lace joined his pants on the floor and he returned to his spot between your thighs.
He wrapped a hand around himself, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock.
“Are you with me?” His eyes searched yours.
“Always,” you breathed. 
He filled you slowly, measured, careful, and watching your face the entire time. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you and he was acutely aware of the size difference between the two of you. His fingers flexed against your thighs, keeping you still in his grasp. 
Even with the toxin’s effects on you, the stretch of Bane filling you had a twinge of discomfort filtering through the pleasure otherwise washing over you. 
He finally bottomed out and you let out a low groan. You couldn’t decide where to keep your hands and they flitted from his shoulders to the bedsheets to his forearms to his abs, anything you could touch. Maybe if you found something to hold on to, you could keep yourself from floating away. 
Bane grunted as you clenched around him and minutely ground his hips into you. 
“Shit, move please,” your fingers dug into his forearms. 
You expected him to be rough and fast. Simply chasing release with his mission as a sole focus. But this was something else entirely. He was still focused but his mission was you, not just getting off. He was curled over you, forehead pressed into your shoulder, caging you in with his forearms and rolling his hips into you. It felt amazing.
But it wasn’t enough. You could tell he was holding back, even if it was for your sake, and, if this was the only time you got to experience Bane like this, you wanted all of him.
“Bane, baby, please.” You gripped the back of his neck and pulled his face up from its hiding place. Flicking your eyes up to meet his wild ones, you planted a firm kiss onto his mask, running the tip of your tongue along the grate. “I’m not gonna break.” You dug your heels into his ass, urging him on. His eyes darkened at your words, pupils already blown wide. His hips snapped forward with a grunt, forcing a gasp from between your lips. He levered up on his knees, towering over you, as he pulled out almost entirely and wrapped your hips in a bruising grip. 
A growl slid out from behind his mask as he looked down at you.
“Fuck yes,” you moaned out. Your eyes rolled back when he filled you again, impossibly deeper than before. 
Long gone was the caring pace he had set before. Every one of your favorite fantasies of rough sex with Bane couldn’t compare to the real thing. Part of you was already excited to see the vibrant bruises you’d find on your hips later. 
Bane’s angle was perfect, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot with devastating precision. 
“Oh fuck, right there, please.” Your fingers curled around his wrists and your back arched up off the bed. 
You bit your lip hard to try and stop the string of embarrassing whines escaping with every powerful thrust. 
“No,” something akin to a snarl clawed out of Bane’s throat.
He pinned your wrists above your head, holding you fast with one hand. He ran the thumb of his other over your bottom lip, spit-slicked and bitten red, and pulled it from between your teeth. 
“I want to hear every single noise of pleasure you make,” he growled. 
You caught his thumb between your teeth and curled your tongue around it. His fiery gaze dropped to your lips as you sucked, drawing the calloused pad deeper into your mouth.
“I’ve heard those pretty sounds fall out of your lips countless times, I’ve heard you call my name at night, don’t you dare hide them from me now.”
He hooked his thumb behind your teeth and pulled down. A hard snap of his hips forced a loud cry from between your lips. 
“Good girl.” He chuckled darkly.
He released your jaw and trailed his hand down your neck. His fingers found your nipple, spit-slick thumb circling the bud before pinching it between rough fingers. You squirmed beneath him as he twisted and pulled, the bite of pain only serving to amplify the pleasure coursing in your blood. He showed the same treatment to your other nipple and you fought weakly against the hold he had on your wrists. 
“Please, fuck, please,” you moaned. At this point, you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your head was fuzzy with the tightening of the coil in your stomach. Each drag of his cock inside you, each grind against your clit, feeling wholly and solely overwhelmed by the man above you, nothing else existed outside this moment. 
“Let go, little one,” he purred. He reached down and rubbed tight circles over your clit. “Give it to me. Let me feel you come on my cock.”
You screamed his name as the knot in your core snapped hard and your vision went white. Bane snarled and buried himself to the hilt finding his own release as you lost yourself in the waves of your orgasm crashing one after another. 
Floating back to yourself, you felt a firm body under your cheek and tentative fingertips tracing along your back. 
The toxin had burned itself out, no longer smoldering in your core. Now, you were afraid. Was all that just because of the toxin? Had Bane just reacted to you? Of course, he had offered but what if none of it really meant anything to him? Hell, it probably didn’t. Just a means to an end.
You didn’t realize you had started shivering until Bane moved you to lay over him and wrapped his arms and the duvet around you. 
You slid your hands under his shoulders and pressed your face into his neck. 
“Are you with me?” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.
A beat of silence and his arms tightened around you. 
“Always.”
The talk that both of you knew needed to happen, could wait just a little while longer. For now, you were content to stay in the moment. You placed a slow line of kisses down his neck and pressed your nose into the juncture of his shoulder instead. 
“Sleep now, little one,” he rumbled beneath you. 
Just before unconsciousness took you, you felt him press his mask into the crown of your head. 
670 notes · View notes
anadelaney79 · 1 year
Note
Hi love I have a Tom request:) the reader is interviewing Tom about his movies or whatever and he just falls in love with her and then later on everyone’s talking about how interested he look in her interview and shipping the two<3
Small Talk
I love getting requests! But, I have to say, I didn't follow this one exactly as has been asked. Hope you like it though 🤓
Pairing: Tom Hardy x Reader
Words: 1420
Warnings: None. Just pure tension!
A/N: As usual, I'm really sorry about all the spelling mistakes, as english is not my main language.
Title: Small talk
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"Over here, please". The huge man with the handy in one hand and the headphones hanging from his neck guides you through the main hall of the Hotel. From where you are, you can see the spotlights that illuminate the small set where the director and the main actor are giving the interviews to the accredited journalists.
"I have journalist number 18," he says through the handy to someone on the other side. "Ok, we're ready" they reply in a distorted voice from the other side. You adjust your dress and make your way past the two cameras that are mounted on tripods.
There he is. The one and only Tom Hardy, your favorite actor, sitting with his legs spread out on the chair. You can't believe you get to interview him. You feel nervous and anxious, but you try to hide it.
He doesn't see you coming, because he is concentrated at reading something in a phone that his assistant is holding next to him. She looks at you and gives you a little nod, and you smile back at her.
It is just at that moment that Tom raises his eyes to you. He looks at nothing but your eyes, and then he slightly lowers his gaze to your mouth. You smile at him and introduce yourself, "Hello, Mr. Hardy. Nice to meet you. My name is Y/N."
"Pleased to meet you," he tells you, clearing his throat. You feel faint at the deep voice that characterizes him, one of the things you like most about him. "But please, call me Tom." he says smiling, and stands up to take your hand in his. He squeezes it gently between both of his hands, and a tingle runs through you. You feel that he holds your hand a little longer than he should, but the thought passes quickly when the director of the film appears and sits in the empty chair next to him.
"Okay, we can start with the questions in 3, 2, 1… Let's go!", shouts a voice from behind the scenes, and you settle in your seat to start interviewing them. The first questions are for the director of the film, and although you try to concentrate on what he is telling you, you can't help but feel Tom's eyes on you, insistently. He seems nervous, moving in his chair nonstop until he starts taking off some clothes: first his sweatshirt, then a long-sleeved t-shirt, then his cap… until he takes his vaper out of a back pocket and that seems to calm him down. He fixes his eyes on you when you speak and when you listen, and his gaze goes up and down from your face, all over your body.
You feel the heat rise throughout your body. It's Tom Hardy, you should feel lucky that he lives in the same Universe as you. However, there he is, looking at you as if he wanted to devour you whole. Every time your eyes and his meet you shift in your seat, almost feeling the tension between you and him. Are you imagining it? What's going on? Is he always so intense at interviews? You cross your legs and he lets out a puff of his vaper, along with a growl deep in his throat.
"I'm sorry," he suddenly says, putting one of his hands on the director's knee to make him stop talking, "but I must say those shoes are spectacular."
You're not going to play dumb: you put them on hoping he would see them, because you knew his world famous shoe fetish. But you never thought that he would.
You look at him and you feel your face turning red. Then you look at your shoes. They are black open toe shoes, with a small patent leather bow on the front and an infinite stiletto heel.
A voice shouts again "We have a problem with the mic, will be recording in ten minutes!". The director immediately picks up his phone as he stands up and walks behind the scenes, getting lost in the darkness of the backstage. The little crowd invades the space again around Tom, and he says laughing out loud "I'm fine, you can relax, I don't need more make up". The woman that was talking non stop (you asume is his secretary) looks at you up and down and then looks at him. "Everybody out of here" she says, not looking happy at all.
Tom's gaze pierces your eyes like two flaming missiles as soon as the entourage around him goes behind the scenes. He lifts the vaper to his lips, and you watch him inhale the vapor as if you're in a trance. His full lips enveloping the mouthpiece, his eyes narrowing at the taste on his tongue, his flexed arm marking the voluptuous bicep... You shake your head trying to come back to reality, and look down at your notes, trying to do something other than embarrass yourself.
"Do you have many questions there?", he asks you
"Just a few more. They don't give us much time to ask everything we would like", you reply.
"And what would you like to ask me that is not in your notes?" he says leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and leaving his hands clasped in front, holding the vaper, creating an almost intimate atmosphere between you and him.
"I could not tell…"
"Think. We have… well... nine minutes until they fix the microphone."
You bite your lip nervously, and he scans them with his gaze.
"I would like to know why you always kept your private life so private"
"Because it's private"
"Many actors reveal something of their life. That generates a commitment with the audience"
"I do not do that"
"Why?"
"Because I'm not like many actors"
"That's not an answer"
"I like to protect those who are in my life. Those who are already in it..." hisvoice grows softer before he continues speaking ..."and those who are entering for the first time"
"Do you feel like you have to protect them?"
"Without a doubt"
"And who protects you?"
"Myself"
"That is unfair"
"It's who I am"
He leans back in his chair and brings the vaper to his lips again, releasing a wisp of white vapor in front of his face. You cross your legs to the other side, and again he seems to vibrate when looking at your calves and your feet, finished in the shiny black shoes.
"I was honest with you," he says, as he spreads his legs out on the chair "now I want you to be honest with me."
"Me? How so?"
"I am going to ask you a question and you will answer with the truth and only the truth. Like a little game"
You nod.
"Why did you wear those shoes today?"
You feel your throat burning, and the heat going up, enveloping your cheeks that feel red, on fire. You swallow before you speak.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Let me rephrase the question. Why did you choose those shoes for today?"
He leans forward again, his eyes shining in anticipation of your response. He knows.
"Think about what you are going to answer", he smiles as he speak.
Either you play with this, or you run off the set and never come back. But you're not one to run away. So you take a deep breath.
"Are you challenging me, Mr. Hardy?" you answer, and you feel your heart galloping inside your chest. He knows, and you know. You both are playing the game.
"Definitely," he says almost in a small voice, low and guttural.
"I chosed these shoes for today, because they go with my dress...", you take a short pause and observe his reaction to your words. You can see his eyes lose the mischief they had just a second ago, his smile instantly flatten "...and because I knew you would like them" you whisper, leaning forward.
He smiles. He captures his lower lip between his teeth and gently releases it, looking into your eyes.
"You knew it well"
"We are ready to continue!" the voice shouts from the darkness. The director of the film appears and takes his seat again. But you both do not stop looking at each other with malice and amusement.
"Have I lost something?" he says, confused.
"Oh no…" Tom pats the director's knee, smiling. "A very interesting talk about fashion, which I would like to continue after the interview"
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hecatemoon87 · 8 months
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Tom Hardy
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Dynamic
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Compassionate
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Talented
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Unstoppable
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142 notes · View notes
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#dirty minds worldwide
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solomons-finest-rum · 2 years
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“Thé Noir” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — Part 1
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SUMMARY — Soulmate!AU. Life is not exactly a bed of roses when your soulmate is none other than Alfie Solomons. This is the story of an unbreakable bond you share, with the heartache of war and the epic love story that follows.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is... Full of tropes! And cliche, and corny, and really romantic I hope! I also hope this is the Alfie content you all like and love, because I surely enjoyed writing it! Also it's part one out of two my loves purely because this fic turned out so so so LONG! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
WORD COUNT — 4,084
Masterlist
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By the time you were seven years old, you thought you knew everything there was to know about soulmates. Some were born and some were made, and then there were also those who never had one at all.
Soulmate marks and bonds differed between people—some had a symbol, some a name, some a scar resembling a burn mark that could fade or protrude against the skin depending on whether a person’s soulmate was far or near.
Some marks were faded and grey and those, you learned from your mother, those sometimes meant a person’s soulmate was long gone already.
“But other times,” she told you, seeing as that thought saddened her daughter, “other times it means their person wasn’t yet born.”
What your mother didn’t tell you, however, was how to live with the condition she had pretended to run in your family. Your soul bond was different and while your mother pretended to the world it was hereditary, you very quickly learned that it wasn’t.
Your soul mark wasn’t a mark at all. In fact, your person could hurt you or break you even at a distance; long before you two could even meet. What you had was different, what you had was a bond you tolerated, mostly hated, and at all times considered an affliction rather than any sort of blessing.
“Some people don’t have soulmates,” your mother reminded you whenever you would throw hands and demand of the Universe to sever all ties with the insufferable arse It had decided to tie you with for all eternity.
“And good for them!” you would shout then, eager to take your anger out on anyone and no one in particular. “Then they’ll never know what it’s like to have this!” you’d show your mother another bruise that had appeared on your arm overnight, “or this!” another cut that you now had over your left eyebrow and made your mother promise she would do everything in her power, with her creams and natural remedies, to make it fade away.
“He’s a right urchin, I’ll admit,” your mother would sometimes agree, then smirk knowingly when you repeated the word under your breath, trying to let out the steam along with it.
It’s not that you yourself were a particularly well-behaved little miss, but somehow calling your soulmate that name made you feel better about your shared experience.
Your affliction was to feel, most of all. You could feel everything your person felt, to some extent, but first and foremost—whatever trouble they had gotten into, whatever beatings, scars or bruises they received when acting reckless, you would get them, too.
That is why you listened patiently when your mother told you all about soulmates, and you nodded and stored and neatly packed all the pieces of information you could get from her about them.
It was not to understand, not even so much as to learn. All you wanted was to find the bastard who was doing this to you and strangle him yourself.
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Because you knew it must have been a boy. Girls were generally more sensible, this much you were certain of.
Well… Perhaps not those who had their soulmates’ names ready on their arms, served to them by life on a silver platter. Those girls you avoided. As you learned very early on, they were right insufferable.
Those kinds of soul bonds annoyed you to no end, too, as it meant the people involved would have a choice—finding their person was as easy as going to the office on your sixteenth birthday and filing a clerical form.
You, on the other hand, had to spend your life hoping your senseless oaf of a soulmate wouldn’t just go and throw himself into the Thames if he so one day pleased and drowned you with him.
Judging by the tattoo he had presented you both when you turned thirteen, you wouldn’t be surprised if drowning on a dare wasn’t a possibility with him after all.
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The tattoo, as expected, was too much for your father to stand. Generally not a patient man, and far too quick to smack your mother around when he thought no one was looking, once he noticed that tattoo on your hand you thought he would hit you, too.
All he did was throw a chair, though, and  called you a name. Then he stormed out of the house and slammed the door behind him. For some reason your mother tried to persuade you to forgive him, but you thought nothing of it, really. You were used to the temper your father had—after all it was part of your inheritance.
What you couldn’t stand, though, was how your mother had spent her entire life trying to persuade her friends and neighbours that your condition was hereditary.
That you got it from her.
That you knew to be bullshit. Early on you learned not to contradict her, however, and let everyone assume the cuts and bruises on her skin had everything to do with a soul bond and nothing to do with your father being a despicable person.
As you got older, you realised through all the types of soulmates people had, you have never met anyone like you. So you learned to hide it just in case.
When you got your first job and tried to find out more about soulmates on your own, you quickly learned that hiding your condition was the safest option for you after all. People looked at you differently once they realised and you never were a person looking to get into trouble, not if you could avoid it. That was reserved for your person—always getting into something and marking you both for it.
But as far as you were concerned, you and your stupid street urchin could very well be the only two people in the world affected by this condition.
And even if it sometimes made you feel special, you would never say it.
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When the war broke out, your attitude towards your soulmate changed somewhat.
The only uncontrollable force around you until that moment was your bond and your father’s unpredictable character. Now it felt like the rug had been pulled from under your feet and every day was spent on dreading that stupid man of yours would be called to the front.
You knew he was scared of that, too. Sometimes late at night you could feel your heart beating so fast it nearly jumped out of your chest, and you knew that what felt like an iron chain around your stomach was his admittance. It was him, telling you his deepest, darkest fear with no words spoken. 
And you got it, because it wasn’t just about his bravado now. It wasn’t just him, leaving you both bruised after the fights you were sure he had started anyway.
There was a possibility of your soulmate dying and you realised that scared you more than your own death could.
Because one thing you never dared to ask your mother or anyone else was: if he died, would you die along with him? Or would it be your soul that crumbled into dust, leaving you a shell of your former self?
For the first time in your life you learned that you didn’t really hate him as much as you used to. 
You didn’t know what to do with all of this, though. You weren’t even sure if he lived in London or not, but because you felt like you were so out of options, you were prepared to do something desperate enough to at least try to find that idiot of yours before it would be too late for you both.
Two more days passed before you felt that feeling of an iron chain around your stomach was back. One night you just couldn’t fall asleep and you knew then it was time for him to go to the front. Suddenly, the thought of never even meeting him scared you into action. Up until that point something told you that you two running into each other one day was as sure as the sun rising in the morning. Now you knew that wouldn’t be true unless you finally got up and did something about it. 
As soon as the clock struck three in the morning, you snuck out of the house to get to the train station where you knew the drafted soldiers were being transported to the front.
It was there at the platform where you felt something other than anger or fear you had learned to associate with your soulmate for so very long. All of a sudden, there was something else, something that could only be described as a pull, followed by a surge of excitement and warmth that somehow told you straight away where you had to go. 
You ran straight through the sea of soldiers until you felt that pull grow strong like a magnet, directing you towards the right wagon. But it was already closed when you got there.
You felt all that anger mixed with sadness and slammed your hand against the closed door, causing the station master to notice you and quickly trot towards you to get you away from the train.
“Miss!” he shouted, but you ignored him. 
Helpless and scared, you screamed once more, this time jumping and slamming both hands against the window to at least get the attention of all the soldiers on the other side of it. 
Because you knew your person was in there. You were so sure of it that at this point nothing else made sense—except for getting your message into that thick skull of his.
“Don’t you die, you hear me?!” you shouted at the wagon and one of the soldiers inside it grinned at his friends and pointed at you. 
“Miss!” the station master made his way towards you and tried to pull you away, but you didn’t care. 
You kicked the wagon in anger and pointed your finger at the window, because you couldn’t care less if you were making a spectacle of yourself.
“Don’t you die, you bloody idiot, because I swear I’ll find you and kill you myself, you hear me?!”
That earned you some laughs and whistles from the other soldiers, some of them even clapped in appreciation of the encouragement, since even if you were speaking to one of them directly, you knew full well that all of them could use lifting their spirits a little.
“Miss, get away from the train!” the station master barked and forcefully pulled you towards him as the whistle sounded and the train started to move.
“And don’t you get any more of those fucking tattoos, or so bloody help me, ya twat!” you screamed one last thing towards the wagon, kicking your legs in the air and trying to get away from the man’s iron grip.
It was then when one soldier in particular finally stuck his head out the window and you locked eyes with him. Your heart beat faster and you looked at him until he disappeared from view. Was it him? Suddenly you weren’t even sure.
“Miss…” the station master finally let go of you and even if you had caused him some concern, his wrinkled face looked more saddened than angry.
“That was my soulmate on this train,” you explained, not without some spite to your voice.
“So I figured.”
You looked behind you to catch a glimpse of the very last wagon crossing the line of the platform and disappearing into a thick morning fog.
“Am I going to be arrested?” you asked, thoroughly accepting of your fate. 
After all, what more was there to lose on a day like this.
“Go home,” the station master placed his hand on your shoulder and this time it was meant as a comfort.
You nodded, though at the same time you knew full well home was the very last place you wanted to be.
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You wandered the streets of London until mid-afternoon, when your worry was finally replaced by hunger and some sort of motivation to at least try to take care of your own needs.
But home still posed too real a possibility of too many questions from your parents you didn’t feel like answering. You went to the pub instead and bought yourself dinner with what little money you still had left from your weekly wages at the laundry house.
As you slurped the tasteless stew and thought of your next move, an idea appeared in your head that finally managed to put you in a better mood. It was a two birds, one stone sort of scenario and even if it felt a little bit like revenge, you knew it could ultimately help you both. 
You had a rough idea where to find the person you needed for the job and so after dinner you went to the banks of the river.
You didn’t exactly know where to look first, but when you got there, you asked one of the sellers where to find the artist who tattooed the sailors.
Seeing as you were a woman, and tattoos were technically illegal, he wasn’t exactly eager to tell you. But you weren’t necessarily in the mood to explain your entire life story to a stranger, so instead of negotiating, you rolled up your sleeve and pointed to the one tattoo you already had there. The man didn’t have to know it hadn’t been your choice to get it there, though it seemed to do the trick because his attitude at once changed.
“Aye, all right,” the man sighed and pointed his finger in the right direction. “Ask for Bill, though he ain’t so keen to take no wenches, I can tell ya that.”
You told him a quick thanks and nearly sprinted towards Bill’s shabby establishment. There was a small chance he would accept your money if you explained, and as you entered the shop, that thought was the only thing that kept you going.
“No women,” the burly man, who you assumed was Bill, grunted from across the room.
You kept yourself from rolling your eyes at him, because aside from the fact that you wanted something from him, he was tall and intimidating—bald as a newborn bird and covered in various scars and tattoos.
“I got money,” you lied and repeated your plea once more afterwards, because the man refused to even glance in your direction. He was busy pretending to read the paper instead.
“Please,” you said then and stepped towards him to roll up your sleeve once more. “Do you know the man who has one just like this?”
“Plenty people have one like this,” Bill replied, not even bothering to look.
“But do you know one who has one in the exact same place?”
That finally caught his attention, because the question was unusual enough to suggest exactly what you wanted it to suggest.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bill gasped and all of a sudden there was a wide grin all across his face, replacing the scowl. “Yer Alfie’s girl!”
Alfie’s girl. That, you had to admit, sounded almost pleasant. 
“He was drafted this morning,” you replied.
“Aye, so I’ve heard,” Bill nodded sagely and finally put down his crumpled newspaper. “So what can I do for ya, Alfie’s Girl? ‘Cause I don’t take no women clients, if ya want that then get out.”
You crossed your arms over your chest.
“Why?”
“Aye, ‘s ‘cause I don’t.”
“Not even the paying ones?”
“Naah, can’t take no risk. Women are different, ya see, softer. They can’t take that sorta pain.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Bill grinned at you again and this time you felt like fighting him just a little.
“Try bleeding for twelve weeks a year, then we’ll talk,” you scoffed and felt satisfied when Bill’s face scrunched up in disgust.
“Right you are, get out!” he pointed towards the door then, but there was no threat to it so you opted to ignore him.
“Please,” you said once more, “I never even got to meet him and now I don’t know if I ever will. Until today I never even knew his name!”
“Wha’?” Bill scratched his bald head and you could see he was mulling it over. “What d’ ya mean? He never found ya?”
“No.”
“Dirty bastard, I knew he wouldn’t,” Bill shook his head and motioned for you to come closer. “Listen. How ‘bout tea, then? ‘S a foul batch I got, tastes much like Satan’s piss, right, but it’s sure as hell more pleasant than a needle in yer arm.”
You considered that for exactly a split of a second before agreeing. This conversation at least felt like some sort of a victory. Perhaps you didn’t find him, but your instincts were correct. You now knew his name and before you was a person who at least knew him—or enough about him to tell you more.
“Tell me about him,” you asked Bill as soon as you two were sat down in the dingy back room of his parlour.
“Who, Alfie?” Bill chuckled as he poured hot water into the teapot. “Aye, believe you me, luv, he’ll be back. He’s a hell of a lot tougher than they gave ‘im credit for at the Fields.”
“Coldbath Fields?!” you exclaimed, knowing full-well that prison was one of the toughest there was. “What was he doing in there?”
“Aye, servin’ time, mostly,” Bill gave you another grin and sat down in front of you with a grunt. “Let me tell ya, there’s still a chance for ya to get out of this, yeah? You seem like a nice girl an’ I don’t have to tell no one if you don’t want me to.”
You frowned at the suggestion and shook your head quickly. You weren’t about to back down now, not when sitting together with a whole encyclopaedia of knowledge about your soulmate. 
“He ain’t no peach, your soulmate, right,” Bill said then and pointed to your arm where the tattoo was. “That right there is a gang mark they ask me to do for him.”
This one almost took your breath away. That first moment of being somewhat enamoured with the idea of Alfie quickly faded right back into the familiar feeling of hate and annoyance.
“That bloody idiot!” you exclaimed and Bill, clearly taken aback by your reaction, leaned back a little in his seat.
“So all this time he had me walking around London with a fucking gangster mark on my arm?!” you shouted. “What the hell was he thinking?!”
“Aye, clearly he wasn’t, but pipe down, girl, bloody hell!” Bill chuckled and motioned for you to settle down.
You did just that, but only to stew in silence as Bill continued to talk:
“Right, so he was in prison more times than that. Only now they told him they could either hang him or send him to the colonies. He almost chose the colonies, right, but then they started draftin’ the inmates for cannon fodder an’ so they sent him out to die for the cause. Since that’ll teach ‘im, eh? Good enough to steal, good enough to fight, I reckon’s what they think.”
You shook your head and tried to take a calming deep breath just like your mother taught you when your temper reached a boiling point.
“But now he’s out there and he doesn’t even know my name,” you said, quieter than before. You looked up at Bill and tried to plead with your eyes.
“That’s what ya wanted me to do?” Bill frowned and that made you laugh, because for sure it couldn’t have been the most outlandish brand anyone has ever asked him for.
“I was thinking it’d be only fair,” you explained and pointed to your shoulder where you wanted your own tattoo to be. “Seein’ as he got me this one, and the one on my leg. And then there’s the scar here,” you pointed to your stomach, “and something I’m pretty sure is from a bullet. That one hurt like hell for weeks.”
Bill shook his head again and finally reached to pour you two that cuppa.
“Fuck me, he weren’t lyin, right,” he said quietly. “You twos are the proper twins then.”
That made you pause because you had never heard anyone give the bond you shared with Alfie any sort of name before.
“Yous are what they used to call reduplicated,” Bill explained further, taking real pleasure in uttering the last word in a way more complicated than necessary. It made you smile.
“Two of the same soul. Stuck in two people.” Bill held up two fingers and crossed them together. You nodded, because as far as you knew that made perfect sense. 
“That’s how it is,” you shrugged and took a sip of the tea before you. 
It was as bitter and every bit as foul as advertised and Bill laughed in earnest when you started coughing.
“Aye, ‘atta girl, let it out,” he laughed once more and reached across the table to pat you on the arm. “‘Atta girl, ‘s not that bad. Ya better get used to it, right, ‘cause we’re friends now, an’ I’ll be wantin’ ya to check in on me from time to time, yeah? See if yer alright, Alfie’s Girl.”
You nodded and let out one final cough before sipping the disgusting liquid again and scrunching your nose at the taste. 
“There,” Bill reached across the table once more and poured you a hefty portion from his hip flask. 
“Will this help?” you asked then, unconvinced.
“With the taste? Nah. But it’ll sure as hell help you. Now,” Bill raised his mug towards you and emptied the last of the flask’s content into it. “To Alfie Solomons, that right bastard! May his luck never run out and may his fuckin’ legs stay put to bring him back to his beloved!”
You laughed at that toast, but nodded when you drank it. The alcohol burned slightly less than Bill’s tea concoction.
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That first week after the draft was the worst you have ever felt in your entire life. It wasn’t much better afterwards, but the way things quickly turned to shit even at home, you found yourself working more and more, then desperately grasping at any odd job still available for women in London. 
You still felt him, though. Alfie. Wherever he was, you could at least still feel him and you knew he was alive. 
After that first desperate week, though, one good thing to come out of it was Bill finally obliging your request. As stupid as he thought it, he tattooed your own name on your left shoulder. You didn’t make a sound, which you knew annoyed him a little, because it wasn’t exactly what he expected from his first woman customer. Once he wiped out the blood and leftover ink, you noticed that he had added a little heart after the name. You gave him a sharp look and Bill chuckled at it, not afraid of your temper in the slightest.
“Aye, give ‘im somethin’ to hope for at least,” he said. “You can break his heart later, I know he’d let ya.”
You rolled your eyes and told him you had to go back to work. That was a lie, though. You just wanted to get away from Bill in case he realised. In case he could read it in your face.
Because you didn’t really want to break Alfie’s heart anymore, not in the slightest. Yes, you were still annoyed with his choices, but all you now wanted was to see him. You wanted to meet him, you wanted to slap him across the face for all the scars and muscle ache, but most important of all you wanted to hold him close—alive. You wanted the chance to reunite the two of the same soul and see what it would be like.
So that night when you finally got the chance to rest for a couple of hours in your own bed, you looked at the fresh scar of a tattoo, still burning and inflamed, and you thought, Please don’t die, you fucking oaf, not until I find you. 
For the first time in a long time, you slept easy that night, hoping that wherever Alfie was, for once in his life he could do you the bloody courtesy of doing as you asked.
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mlmxreader · 6 months
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Public Toilets | Bane x gn!reader (🍋)
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ anonymous asked: May I please give you a request to use the following prompts for big tiddy Bane X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader:
“You need to let go, and to have some fun” ❞
: ̗̀➛ Bane isn't keen on things like clubbing and being in public, he gets tense and worked up... but luckily, you know just to calm him down
: ̗̀➛ spit as lube, anal sex, swearing, Masturbation, anal fingering, public sex, Daddy kink, praise kink
: ̗̀➛ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
The underground club scene was alive and well within Gotham; villains mingled with heroes and both danced and drank with the everyday Joe who needed to let loose after work. It didn't matter who they were. The club scene had something for everyone; harsh and loud dance music, even harsher and louder metal.
Everything in between. You weren't really sure how you managed to drag Bane along with you, given his distaste for public appearances when he was a more than wanted man, and you couldn't really blame him.
But he was there with you, keeping his heavy hand on your shoulder to make sure you didn't get separated from each other; heavily breathing through his mask as the heat started to get to him a little more than he first expected.
But you were so keen, he couldn't deny you. Bane could never tell you no when you wanted something, always bowing to a flash of the puppy dog eyes, or the slight whimper in your voice. Bane could never say no to you, even if he tried.
But he was tense, and you couldn't help but to notice as you dragged him into one of the toilet cubicles, your hands on his chest as he stood against the door.
"Bane?"
"Mm."
You tilted your head to the side slightly, raising your brows. "You alright?"
He shrugged, he didn't want to ruin your night and he wanted to at least try and have fun. "I'm fine, little one."
"You're tense," you pointed out, hands on his arms as you gently squeezed the thick muscles. "You need to let go, and to have some fun - trust me, yeah?"
He nodded slowly. "Always, little one."
Slowly, you guided him around until he sat on the toilet with his legs spread; you eyed his lap hungrily, licking your lips before you swallowed thickly and dropped to your knees between his legs.
His breath hitched, and he growled out a soft huff of your name under his breath; he resisted the urge to cup your jaw in his hand and force his thumb between your lips.
"What are you thinking?"
You grinned, looking at his crotch for a moment. "I was thinking I might know a way to help you relax."
"And what do you suggest?"
"Well, there's two options," you told him. "Either, you could fuck me, or you could fuck my mouth."
Bane grumbled under his breath. "I want you on my lap, little one."
You nodded, getting up off of your knees and dropping your trousers; Bane followed suit, sitting back down and giving his cock a good hard few strokes as he took in the sight of your body.
Watching as you copied him and started touching yourself. He got you to spit on his hand so he could make his cock a little more slick; you did it again as you started to finger your ass.
Bane was entranced, and when you told him that you were ready, he almost sprang to his feet.
"Are you still up for it?" He asked with a soft growl.
You nodded eagerly, bracing yourself against the door. "More than."
Slowly, Bane thrust into you, making you moan loudly; his hand went to your mouth, covering it so nobody could hear as he started to rock his hips against you, losing himself a little in how you pushed back against him.
Fuck. You felt so good.
He was so big, and so thick, you thought he was going to tear you open but you didn't want him to stop; he was still gentle, though, grunting softly in your ear as he pressed his cold mask to your skin.
Shivering, you moaned loudly against his hand, closing your eyes tightly. Fuck. With the added risk of getting caught so easily, you couldn't deny that you knew you wouldn't last long; frantically and desperately trying to fuck yourself against his cock.
Far from the usual talkative sex that you usually had. No, this was just pure lust.
"You're being so good," Bane grunted out quietly. "So, so good for me, little one."
"Daddy…" you murmured, rolling your hips. Your ass clenching around him and only spurring him on even more. "Please… fuck."
Bane's eyes rolled into the back of his head for a second, nearly letting go of your mouth in the process; but he was quick to come back to his senses, steadying himself with a hand on your hip as he rammed into you and started to thrust harder and faster.
Your muffled moans and begs for him to keep going only made him try and go as hard and fast as he possibly could. Wanting nothing more than to make you cum and to fill your ass with his own.
Fuck. The thought of stuffing you with his cum made him growl as he let go of your hip, focusing his attention on touching you instead.
"I wanna cum," you whimpered against his hand.
"When you're ready, little one," he told you firmly. "When you want to."
You nodded, losing yourself in the thrusting and the soft praises for a moment before you finally felt it happen; freezing up for a second as you gasped his name. Pleasure washing over you as your toes curled and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Oh, fuck.
It only made Bane's resolve crumble as he finally came in you; he kept fucking you, not caring as he stuffed as much of it into you as he could. Claiming you completely. Fuck. Oh, fuck.
Bane kept going until he could feel himself soften, clearing his throat as he sat down for a moment and used the toilet paper to clean his cock; he stole a look at you, admiring his masterpiece.
"You know," he mused. "I really do feel a lot less tense."
You were still bracing yourself against the door, grinning as you panted heavily, trying to catch your breath; your legs were shaking, but you could nod as you laughed softly. "That's alright, then."
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lavendertales · 2 years
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sugar & spice—Alfie Solomons x f!reader
summary: being married to the infamous Alfie Solomons has its ups and downs. and so do your visits to his office.
word count: 1.3k
WARNINGS: swearing. a little spicy but nothing too explicit.
AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!
A/N: took prompt #10 (“Now, I ain’t gonna tell you twice, sweetheart—get out of my bloody office.”) from the film noir celebration list of @solomons-finest-rum ❤️
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gif: @userfezcos 
He was menacing, powerful and not to be messed with. That much you knew from whispers heard around the block. Yet when the day came that you got to meet the infamous Alfie Solomons, you were… surprised. To put it mildly.
There was something about him that seemed to be calling out to you. He liked an intellectual opponent to tussle with, and you were every bit of that. You exchanged fake pleasantries, followed by plenty of innuendos that were not left without cheeky grins and lustful looks. It was more than evident after the first hour that the interest was mutual, and that you both wanted the same thing.
After a while, it went beyond carnal pleasure, sweat dripping down your bodies and names being shouted in the throes of passion. It turned into love, the purest affection, and just like that, Alfie Solomons knew he had found the one for him.
Now everyone knew Mr. and Mrs. Solomons. Everyone knew not to mess around with you, to not even throw you a single conspicuous glance down your way. You were meant for his eyes only, the most precious jewel ever to be worn by a singular man.
And the truth was, you’ve never felt more alive and cared for than whenever you were around Alfie.
You allowed yourself certain liberties though; as his wife, it was your duty to support him and his business and you did exactly that. However, whenever you showed up at the office, you made sure to look your best.
Like any respectable woman, you enjoyed some looks every now and then. You felt flattered, nothing more. All your devotion, attention and arousal were for Alfie, no one else, ever. And your appearance was meant strictly for Alfie as well.
He’s heard you by the click, click, click of your heels on the marble floor. He grins to himself, eyes still immersed into the papers before him. He lets you do your devilish walk to his office before choosing to do any move. It’s all part of the little cat and mouse game you always got going on. You both love it, both thrive off of it, so why not let it run its course?
“Come in,” his coarse voice announces as he hears the knock on the door.
Then, as his eyes rise from underneath his reading glasses, he nearly chokes on nothing but air.
You chose bolder clothing for today. Usually you carry some form of respect for the name you now have and for his business, but today it seems you went for carelessness. Your dress is as tight as it could be, embracing your front, your curves, and it shows a little more leg than usual. Now for him, this is the most mouth-watering sight he could possibly wish for, but the idea of you walking around like sex on a stick is troublesome, and it rises his blood pressure more than he would’ve thought, awakening some primal instinct within.
“What brings you here today, love? Dressed like that, no less.”
You take a look at your own outfit, playing innocent for a while longer.
“I thought you are more open-minded than other men, my dear,” you lovingly scold him.
“What’s that have to do with anything?”
You throw him a side glance, accompanied by a coy smirk.
“You are not one of those men who dictate their wives what to wear or what to do, are you?”
“The bloody hell I am! But there’s no one that could ever tell you what to do, love.”
You grin, oddly proud of yourself. “True.”
You pace around the office, staring at its walls—but subconsciously, letting Alfie take a good look at you.
“To what do I owe the pleasure then, love?”
“Better ask, ‘to whom I owe the pleasure’, to which I’d answer ‘to me, of course’.”
Alfie raises one eyebrow, scanning you carefully.
“This what you wanna do then?” he questions. “Parade yourself around to get me riled up?”
You shrug. “Measure your words, darling.”
You see him take a deep breath, finally rising from his chair. In an ideal world, if it wasn’t yet another busy day, he’d be already lifting your dress and bending you over the desk. But you admire his strength nonetheless.
“Do I need to walk around this much to get you riled up?”
“Woman, you only need to look at me and I’d be good to go.”
You chuckle, your ego receiving a boost like none other.
“So why are you here?” Alfie inquires.
“Can’t I visit my husband at work?”
You waltz near him, biting your lower lip and playing with the collar of his shirt.
“You’re a minx,” Alfie coos. “I don’t trust you with these visits of yours.”
“Would you rather I tell you straightforward what I’d like?”
“Ideally, yea.”
There’s a coy smile sprayed across your face, a trademark wicked one that Alfie fell for each and every time. It was a surefire way to let him know that you were up to no good, but fucking hell, it was one of his favorite things in the whole wide world.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d lock that door, bend me over that desk and let me know just how much you despise me walking into your office dressed like this.”
Alfie chuckles, the same devilish intention residing behind the sound.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he keeps on laughing. “I knew you had it in ya.”
“I don’t have anything in me yet.”
Alfie keeps grinning, much like a madman, but eventually decides that two can play at that game. He stares you down for as long as he can, looking you up and down.
“Best be on your way home cause when I get there, I’d wanna see that pretty arse of yours bent over for me.”
You pretend to pout. “Are you throwing your wife out? Really?”
“Now, I ain’t gonna tell you twice, sweetheart—get out of my bloody office.”
“Or what?”
He feels his blood pressure rise more so than before, his pants impossibly tighter by now, but he prevails.
“Or I might take you up on that offer of yours.”
“That is the least threatening thing you could tell me.”
Alfie grins, reaching around to pull you in by your waist and the next second, he hungrily kisses you.
The kiss is wet, needy and hot and it sets you both ablaze with the speed of lightning. Neither of you wants to let go, especially not when you feel Alfie hard against your crotch, struggling to catch his breath and trying to grind against you.
“Where’s your smart mouth now?” you cheekily ask.
“Hoping to be on more of you, actually.”
“Then do me a favor—lock that fucking door already.”
Alfie pulls away so abruptly you have difficulty believing that anything even happened before. You feel a little insulted, really, but not too much. You know you’ll be well rewarded – although right now the scale seems to be tipped towards punishment—later.
“You come into my office, my bloody office, right? Wearing something like that—and you want me to do you on your terms, sweetheart? I fucking think not.”
He grabs hold of your ass, squeezing it as hard as he can, and you gasp, the heat between your legs growing impossible to ignore.
“Go home, and best be ready for me cause you’ll be too fucked out to say anything but my name, love.”
Left speechless, you don’t fight him on it. You lick your lips in anticipation of what’s to come, swaying your hips to the exit and throwing him one last siren-like gaze that you make sure would last him for the next several hours.
tags:
@phoenixhalliwell @potter-solomons @solomons-finest-rum @acourtofsnakes @alexxavicry @wildmoonflower @minxsblog @hotchlover @kaitieskidmore1 @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @doin-stuff​ 
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Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.
For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!
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Words - 1,467
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.  
Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though... 
“Next lad!”  
Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.  
“Next lad!” 
He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.  
“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”  
You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”  
“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  
Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”  
The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”  
“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.” 
“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.  
Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.  
“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.  
The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”  
“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”  
He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?” 
Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”  
Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.  
The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”  
You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.  
“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.” 
He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?” 
“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.  
You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”  
His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”  
His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”  
His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”  
The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.  
His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.  
You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”  
Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.  
“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes. 
“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 
He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.” 
The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.  
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potter-solomons · 1 month
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samantha-rae-velcher · 7 months
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THE LEAGUE PT.3
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Bane x Fem reader
Requested by: @ravenlillithdelaney ❤️
Warnings: Smut! Violence! Swearing!
A/n: 18+ NSFW if you don't like the warnings please don't read! PLEASE KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE!
___
Y/n stood in Daggett's living room, listening to him yell at her and question her on where Bane was. He had his henchmen send for him, saying it was urgent.
"Where is he!?" Daggett yelled. "He's costing me money!"
"Im sorry but I don't have a tracker on Bane 24/7!"
Daggett glared, stepping closer and grabbing a hold of her lapel.
"I don't care for your tone." He seethed. "You will find him, and-"
"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear." Bane's voice sounded from behind Daggett. There was a glimmer in his eyes, one of concern when he saw how Daggett had a hold of her.
He let go of Y/n, spinning around to face the large man. His voice was cocky, as if he had the slightest bit of order in this room.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Your plan is proceeding as expected."
"Oh really?" Daggett asked. "Your hit on the stock exchange, it didn't work my friend. Now you have my construction crews going around the city, at 24hrs a day. How exactly, is that supposed to help my company absorb Wayne's?"
Bane towered over Daggett, turning his attention to the henchmen and Y/n.
"Leave us." He said.
"No, stay here. I'm in charge."
Y/n watched as Bane set his hand down on Daggett's shoulder, fear spread over the smaller man's face, once he realized just how much danger he was truly in.
"Do you feel in charge?"
The henchmen took his leave, but Y/n stood there she refused to leave after how Daggett spoke to her. She knew that he had it coming, and she didn't want to leave.
"I paid you a small fortune." His voice got significantly quieter, he was most definitely shitting his pants at this point.
"And this gives you power over me?" Bane asked.
"What is this."
"Your money and infrastructure have been important." Bane gently brushed his knuckles over Daggett's cheek, making the smaller man slightly tilt his head away. "Until now."
"What are you?"
"I'm Gotham's reckoning, here to end the borrowed time you've all been living on."
"Y-you're pure evil."
"Im necessary evil."
Y/n flinched, looking away just as Bane snapped Daggett's neck, her heart did a flip as she heard his body drop to the floor.
Heavy boots made their way over to Y/n, her gaze stayed on the tiles until Bane's shoes came into view. His hand came up, tilting her chin so she was looking at him.
"Come, little Rabbit."
She nodded, fallowing him as they left the building. They went back into the sewers, and into Y/n's room. She sat on her bed while Bane stood there looking at her, moving closer he ran his fingers through her hair.
"Did he hurt you, mouse?" He asked.
"No."
Bane brought her closer, leaning her head against his hip. He gently rubbed her back in order to comfort her.
"I told you to leave us." He whispered.
"I didn't think you were going to kill him."
He suddenly got on his knees in front of her, lightly he gripped her arms keeping eye contact. Y/n could get lost in his gaze, the dark brown just making her lose all train of thought.
"Do you trust me?" He asked.
"Yes, of course. With my life."
Her arms came up and wrapped around his neck, bringing her even closer to him.
"I'll fallow you anywhere, Bane. You tell me to jump off a building, I'll do it. You tell me to abduct a scientist by taking off in a plane that'll be going down, and I will." She giggled.
Bane's heart fluttered as she pressed a gentle kiss to his mask. He took her into his lap, grinding her against his hard cock.
Y/n whimpered burying her face in his shoulder, slowly Bane removed her cargo pants along with her panties, freeing his cock from it's confines and lining her up.
They rested their foreheads together as he slowly pushed in. He started thrusting slowly up into her, gripping her hips and moving her against him.
"B-Bane you're so thick." She moaned.
"Take me, little rabbit."
His thrusts became harder and faster, Y/n's hands gripped his biceps in desperation. She trailed kissed down his neck, nipping at his collar bone. Bane groaned when he felt her teeth against his skin, his heart raced as realization set in that she was allowing him to use her body in such a way. The fact that she would trust him with her astounded him, he was usually feared but Y/n looked to him for comfort and warmth.
He slowly ran his hand down her stomach, slipping his fingers past her folds and began rubbing tight circles against her clit. Y/n cried out, the feeling of his calloused fingers overstimulating her was enough to make her melt.
"Please." She whispered.
"Please, what?"
"Make me cum. Please, make me cum."
Bane picked her up as if she weighed nothing, her back hit the wall and his large frame trapped her against it. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rutted into her again, this time harder. Her nails clawed at his back, a thin sheet of sweat covered both of their body's as their moans filled the room.
His finger attacked her clit once more, making her gasp and clench around him. The feeling had Bane letting go, and with a gutteral groan he coated her walls. The warmth of his release sent Y/n into a frenzy, she felt hot and cold as her muscles tightened, spilling her liquid over his throbbing cock.
Bane laid her out on the bed, pulling her against him and engulfing her in his warm embrace. Y/n snuggled into him, he made her feel safe, as if nothing in this world could ever harm her.
"Never leave me." She whispered.
Y/n suddenly felt his arms tighten around her.
"Never, little mouse."
___
"Not as serious as yours, I fear." Bane said, his voice echoing though the sewers.
Batman turned around, his voice barely above a whisper, "Bane."
"Let's not stand on ceremony here, Mr. Wayne."
Y/n looked over at Selina Kyle, who stood behind the fence that had been dropped between her and Bruce, trapping him in. Selina had regret written all over her face, she obviously didn't realize that Bruce was Batman.
Y/n stood there and watched as Bane and Bruce fought, two people she cared deeply about where below her pounding the ever loving day lights out of each other.
"Theatricality and deception, powerful agents to the uninitiated." Bane said, making his way down the iron steps towards Bruce. "But we are initiated, aren't we Bruce? Members of the league of shadows."
Once more the two began fighting, the bat attempted to hide in the dark, but Bane found him immediately. Bane was able to take the bat down again with ease, taking out a detonator, he clicked the button setting off small bombs planted overhead. The ceiling fell in large chunks, a long with the contents of bruce's armory.
Bruce stood, ready to fight again.
"Ah yes." Bane said, throwing the detonator aside.
"I was wondering what would break first."
He slammed the bat to the ground, "Your spirit."
Y/n watched in horror as her large friend picked Bruce up over his head, "Or your body."
Memories of them playing years ago raced through her mind as she watched Bane bring Bruce down, successfully breaking his back against his knee.
___
"Ready or not, here I come." Y/n yelled, her voice carrying through her yard.
The young girl took a few laps around her house, checking under the porch, behind the car, in the shed, but she couldn't find her friend. She suddenly heard footsteps on the roof above her, Y/n looked up to see the boy standing there smiling down at her.
"How did you get up there, Bruce?"
"I'll never share my secrets."
"You climbed my dad's hedges didn't you?"
The young boy nodded.
"How do you expect to get down?"
"I'll jump."
Y/n giggled while shaking her head, "You'll break your ankles."
"Watch me."
He jumped off, rolling as he hit the grass.
"Are you okay!?" She asked, startled.
"Yeah." He lied, not wanting to scare her further.
___
Bruce was dragged off by two of Bane's men, the rest raided the many things that fell from the armory.
Y/n ran up and down the many flights of iron stairs, attempting to find either Barsad or Bane, but she ended up running into both.
"Where-"
"Where will he be taken?" Bane finished her sentence, his back turned to her.
Barsad sneered, looking her up and down.
"Why do you care?" He asked.
Bane turned around to face her, the look in his eyes told her that he knew the truth. He knew her and Bruce had been friends, she was afraid he wouldn't trust her now that he knew.
"The pit." Was all Bane had to say, tears stung her eyes. Y/n had to keep her composure, she couldn't show that she cared enough to cry.
Y/n nodded, turned and headed in the opposite direction. She walked through the streets of Gotham, not afraid of the police. The sun had gone down awhile ago, most street lamps were either flickering or fully out.
Y/n rounded a corner and she bumped into a large figure, she looked up and locked eyes with Bane. He gazed down at her, his expression soft but still concerned.
"I wondered where my rabbit ran off to."
"His rabbit?" She thought.
"I needed time to think."
He nodded, not missing her small shiver. Bane took off his coat, wrapping it around her.
"You can accompany me to the pit if you like, I leave in the morning."
"I think it would be best if he doesn't see me with his enemy."
Bane nodded, he held out his hand for her. Y/n smiled, taking it and stepping closer so he could pull her into a hug. This man was never one for physical affection, but when he met Y/n he wanted to do nothing but protect her and hold her. She was so small compared to him, so delicate.
"As you wish, My little Rabbit."
THE END ❤️
Part 4?
I hope you enjoyed
Reblogs are welcome 🤗
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wandawiccan60 · 1 year
Text
I’m Sorry
An Alfie Solomons X Freya(FemOC)One-Shot
A/N: Hello everyone I know I have ghosted for a while just school and other things have happened lately good and bad really. But enough said but here is a lovely lovely One-Shot that I had the honor with working with my bestie and lovely @i-love-th-characters1. We thought of this story out of nowhere and we decided to make Alfie be such a brute because we thought that Alfie never really apologizes so we decided to make this tale of him and we are very proud to share this short and yet long one shot of the lovely King of Camden Town and his beautiful Scandinavian. Gypsy Freya(our very own OC). Romance, Friendship, etc is presented before your eyes and I hope you all enjoy this as much as me and I-love had such a fun and brainstorming time to bring this to life. Without further ado please as always enjoy, Reblog, Comment, and thank you all for being around I appreciate it every single one of you.
Summary: ”I'm Sorry." 
Two words that she never thought she would hear from the man in front of her. If she's honest, she did look at him like he had 3 heads. Silence took over as they both stared at each other, wondering who would break it as his apology lingered between them.
WARNING 18+: Fem is a Virgin, Lit SMUT, Cussing, Mentions of Alcohol, & Lots Fluff
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The old grandfather clock chimed throughout the small hallway indicating that it was past 10 o'clock at night. Freya was peacefully sitting on the red velvet couch facing the small chimney fireplace. While in her hands she continued to read a book that she got from one of the bookshelves. Cyril was lying next to her feet on the floor while the smooth breeze of the ocean outside the window came inside the lit-up living room. Freya let out a low sigh placing the closed book on top of her lap feeling uneasy about Alfie not arriving home yet. 
“Where could he be, it’s getting late?” she said out loud resting her back against the head of the couch hearing the crackling sound of the fireplace continuing to burn. 
Feeling like time was going slow for Freya, Sophia, their young maid, appeared inside the living room making Cyril lift his head up from his nap. 
“Would you like me to get you anything else for tonight Mrs. Solomons?” the young girl asked while picking up the silver tray from the small brown table in front of Freya.
“No, I’m quite alright now, Sophia thank you. It's best you head home. I'm still waiting for Alfie to arrive from his workplace. Don’t you worry about me, I can take care of the rest of the house. You have done a lot today which I appreciate very much and so does Alfie but enough said. Oh, and yes, your payment for this week's salary I’ll get that right away for you my dear. I’ll be right back,” Freya said, walking her way out of the living room to head to Alfie’s office, while Sophia put away the tea tray in the kitchen area.
A few minutes later Freya returned with the young woman’s payment in her hands, she saw Sophia giving cuddles and scratches to the big Bullmastiff. She smiled at the site while the big dog lay on his back enjoying the amount of attention he was getting from the young housemaid. 
“Silly Cyril you, now come on then off to bed with you. Go on shoo, shoo,” Freya clapped commanding the big brown mutt to go away but was not listening. 
“Hehe, seems he doesn't want to go to bed just yet, but I must go now Cyril I’ll see you tomorrow you sweet dog,” Sophia cooed raising herself on her feet smoothing out her white shirt dress.
“Here you go love,” Freya said handing over the young woman’s money as she continued speaking, “We’ll see you at the same hour in the morning as always, you walk safely back home now. Goodnight Sophia.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Solomons, and I’ll be here at 7 in the morning sharp like I always do. And it is a pleasure to serve you and Mr. Solomon-.”
The front door suddenly burst open making both women jump back in fright, noticing Alfie angrily mumbling some words under his breath. Both Sophia and Freya couldn't quite catch what he was saying, as he shut the door with force. 
“Fuckin’ hell can tonight be something more difficult than the other nights,” Alfie loudly said walking his way towards his office room not noticing the girl's presence who have been seeing his small tantrum all this time.
“Umm, well then that means he didn’t have a good day at work I suppose. I apologize for my husband's behavior Sophia, he really isn't like this every night believe me. Anyways again goodnight dear, until the morning,” said Freya, opening the door for Sophia feeling embarrassed on the inside from Alfie’s actions.
After Sophia left the house, Freya with a small temper growing from inside, quickly walked her way toward her husband's private office. Cyril followed right behind as she opened the door with ferocity, seeing his back facing her way.
“What the fuck is the matter with you, Alfie? Have you gone out of your mind coming back home with that temperament?” Freya questioned, closing the door behind her and crossing her arms in front of her chest glaring her eyes directed at him.
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“So fuckin’ what, eh? I can act whatever way I want, yea, you won’ understand the amount of shit I went through today,” he said, forwarding himself on his knuckles on top of his desk, letting out a big frustrated sigh.
Freya let out a slow sigh trying her best to steady her breathing, wanting to try and communicate with her loving husband. She felt her body relax until she talked to Alfie once again.
“Alfie, talk to me, you know you can always tell me what is wrong,” Freya said, placing a gentle hand on top of his left shoulder but he shoved her hand away from him startling her with fright.
“Why would you fuckin’ care about what happened to me at the job today, it's business that you won’t understand. And now you here telling me ‘what is wrong,’ like if talkin’ will make me feel better,” he said giving a menacing look at his wife, Freya felt chills forming through her body appalled by how Alfie was raising his voice at her.
“Are you listening to yourself, Alfie?” Freya now had her voice raised while her hands turned into tight fists as she continued on speaking, “What is the matter with you, how dare you're raising your voice at me when it isn’t my fault you had a terrible day at work. And you're standing here taking your anger out on me. Who by the way is your wife? Who wants to try and understand what the hell caused you to act like this.”
“Do me a favor, my dear yea? Why don’ you just leave me alone and shut your goddamn mouth and instead you can fuck off from my site yea! You're makin’ my damn head hurt more just by looking at your face,” he said breathing heavily in and out from his nostrils, Freya stayed silent feeling as though a sharp knife stabbed through her heart.
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Not wanting to stay any longer Freya angrily walked out of Alfie’s private office, shutting the brown door with a loud bang. She leaned her back against the wooden door placing her hands over her eyes and letting out a small quiet whimper. She felt tears forming through her dark hazel eyes, inhaling a long breath of air as she walked her way through the small hallway. She grabbed a long black scarf from the coat hanger and wrapped the material around her shoulders. Freya made her way out of her house without a care in the world, as some thunder was heard in the far distance. Indicating that a storm was coming in but that didn’t stop her from walking her way to who knows where. Back inside the house, Alfie took out a bottle of whiskey from a side drawer of his desk. Before opening the cap, he stared at the bottle for a moment until he saw Freya’s face.
Realizing what he did and said to her was incredibly wrong and inside his soul, he was regretting it ever so much. Grabbing the whiskey bottle with his right hand he frustratingly threw it across the room, making a big splatter spot on the wall. Along with the pieces of glass shattered throughout the floor as he let himself fall on top of his armchair. Tilting his head back looking up at nothing else but the ceiling, exhaling a long sigh while he had his eyes closed. 
What the fuck did I just do… I’m such a fuckin’ idiot…
Alfie walked his way out of his office room, walking through the hallway towards the stairs that led up to the second floor. Cyril walked alongside him making their way up wanting to apologize to her for acting such a dick towards her knowing that his anger got the best of him. Alfie reached the bedroom door and before going inside he softly knocked on it. 
“Freya… sweetheart, I’m… forgive me for screaming at you. I… I don’t know what came over me,” Alfie said, letting out a disappointed sigh and placing his right hand on the doorknob making his way slowly inside the room.
But to his shock, she was nowhere to be found inside but only their empty bed and a small table lamp on the other side of the room. Alfie panicked feeling his heart racing out of control, as he walked his way back down the first floor. 
“Freya. Freya, where are you?” he called out looking from one room to the other, not finding any trace of her whereabouts.
Alfie started to become more agitated after failing to find her in every part of the house thinking about where she could be or run off to. Alfie caressed his fingers through his short brown locks, letting out another irritated sigh. Wondering where Freya could have gone too and somewhere he and she would know to go when they wanted to clear their heads out. That's when it suddenly hit him where exactly Freya could have gone to.
The old stone bridge… she must have gone there…
Alfie didn't wait another minute to pass by and made his way out of the house, leaving Cyril all alone in the house. Outside the dark chilly night, it started pouring small drops of rain as Alfie walked his way towards the path that leads to the old bridge. Where they met for the first time when they were in their adolescent years. He only hoped and prayed that Freya made it there safely the rain however only continued to come down heavily.
This is all my fault…my own damn fucking guilt…
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14 Years Ago: Somewhere In Camden Town
"Follow the path, Cyril. You know better." A young Alfie told his then puppy. 
The pup happily sniffed and walked along the path again, a path he and Alfie took for their afternoon walks for a few months now. It was all very familiar to both boys. Today was no different, or at least, it wasn't supposed to be. Yet, their ears picked up on something. 
"Stop." Alfie whispered to his pup who stayed in place in front of him, waiting for his owner to be closer. 
Looking around, Alfie couldn't place where the sudden singing was coming from. Not that he minded the joyous and raucous tune, but the path is known to be private, which is why he began walking Cyril here two months ago. Straining his sight again, he finally saw a figure under the old stone bridge. 
A young woman, to be exact. She was dancing while singing. Her swaying movements and the unfamiliar tune was like a siren's song to the young man and his puppy. Neither even felt themselves starting to walk in her direction. Their feet simply had minds of their own. Slowly, they approached the young woman who hadn't seen or heard them yet. She was too busy dancing her heart out, the jingling of her many necklaces clinking against each other adding a different beat to the, what Alfie could tell was a, foreign song. He was in a trance as he watched her body move. Nothing provocative, nothing grand. She just seemed so free. Cyril looked up at his owner, wondering why he hadn't said anything yet if he liked seeing the girl dance so much. So, being the curious puppy he was, he happily barked. 
The echoing noise immediately had the young woman stopping her movements and her song as she sharply inhaled, clearly startled as she looked towards the direction in which the bark came from. 
"No, no, shh." Alfie told his dog as he tried to subdue the embarrassment he began to feel since he had gotten caught staring.
Instead of being able to control his puppy, Cyril barked again, and again, and again. His tail was wagging and his ears stood up halfway as he wondered why the girl wasn't singing or dancing anymore as she kept looking at them. Alfie wasn't sure what to do as he looked up from his dog. His eyes met the young woman's, and he could tell that she was either seconds from running away or she was too scared to move and was hoping they'd leave first. He knew one thing was for certain; neither parties moved from their spots as they simply stared at each other. 
He could tell she wasn't from here. He had never seen her in the town, much less under the old bridge that he has been passing under daily for two months. He softly cleared his throat as he gave her a tiny nod, unsure of what to do as she kept looking at them. He wasn't sure if she'd do them both harm, though she didn't seem to be a bad person. Cyril, on the other hand, was still curious about this girl who seemed so free a moment ago and was now hesitant to leave the safety of the shadows of the bridge. 
So, Cyril took matters into his own paws and sniffed the trail as he wandered over to where she was standing. He was surprised when Alfie didn't bother stopping him. Looking up at the girl who slowly looked down at him, Cyril barked, wagging his tail to let her know he was friendly. He sensed that she was being cautious, and the pup didn't blame her. He and his owner were strangers to her after all. He sat in place and softly whined, giving her the best puppy eyes that he could muster. Alfie took cautious steps towards the two, stopping just under the beginning of the bridge. 
He watched her necklaces clink together as she slowly moved to kneel down in front of the puppy. Cyril immediately climbed into her lap, causing the young woman to seem taken back by the gentle action. The pup nudged one of her hands with his small nose, letting her know it was alright to pet him. Carefully, she very lightly patted his back, now curious about the tiny animal in her lap who seemed happy to see her. So she patted him again, and again, and again. Each time, she grew less afraid, less cautious, and soon, Alfie felt himself smiling as he watched her scratch Cyril on his belly which caused one of the pup's back legs to scratch the air. 
He found her smile breathtaking, even if it was directed at his dog and not him. 
"I…um, we're sorry for interrupting you." He said, noticing how her eyes were taking all of him in. 
It made him feel too warm for his own comfort, but some tiny part of him deep down enjoyed the attention from this beautiful young woman. 
She only gave him another smile, seeming confused as to what he was saying. Deciding to try and help the situation, Alfie carefully kneeled down in front of her and his pup, hoping she could tell that they're both friendly and meant her no harm. 
"Cyril." He told her, pointing at the puppy. 
She tilted her head slightly to the right, still seeming confused. 
"Cy-ril." Alfie repeated, only slower this time so she could grasp the name. 
She looked at the dog, slowly nodding. Though she didn't say anything, Alfie knew she understood. Suddenly, she was pointing at him, head tilting to the right again. 
"I'm Alfie." He said, placing one of his hands on his chest. 
Her eyebrows raised in confusion. 
"Al-fie. Al-fie." He slowly repeated, being patient with her. 
She gave him a slow nod, understanding that he was introducing himself. 
"Alfie Solomons. I live here, in Camden. Do…Do you live here?" He asked, only to receive no answer.
They both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.
"Freya," She softly spoke, copying him and placing one of her hands on her chest, 
"Fre-ya." She said with a smile. 
"Freya." He repeated the name, liking how it rolled off his tongue. 
She happily nodded after he had said it. He stretched out his right hand towards her, watching as she looked at it with curiosity. 
"You give me your left hand, and we shake 'em together. That's how you greet someone who you just met." He explained.
Freya still didn't understand, so he gently took her left hand in his right one. Very slowly, he shook hands with her, noticing that she seemed to be paying close attention. 
"It's nice to meet you." He said, adding a slight smile for good measure. 
He tried to let go of her hand, but she didn't want to let him go. She had never been so patiently dealt with by someone foreign to her. Alfie felt himself blushing as they just awkwardly kept holding hands, wondering why she would choose to keep holding on to him. 
"Do you live here?" He asked her again, only to earn another head tilt. 
"Um," 
His mind was racing as he thought of ways to gesture at a house or anything that resembled a home. Suddenly, an idea hit him as he spotted a small twig beside his leg. She let go of his hand as his other began picking up the twig. He did the best that he could to draw an outline of a house between them on the sand beneath their legs. 
"Home?" He asked, motioning to his simple drawing. 
All Freya did was curiously look at him before something visibly clicked within her. She pointed to the twig, and Alfie quickly gave it to her. He was so caught up in looking her over that he hadn't realized what she was doing. That is, until a voice was heard in the far distance. 
"Freya!" A man's voice shouted.
Alfie watched as she happily turned around, looking towards where the voice came from. Turning again to face her new friend, she pointed behind her. 
"Tata." She said with a smile. 
Now it was Alfie's turn to give her a look of confusion, watching as she handed a snoozing Cyril to him before she carefully rose to her feet. He quickly followed, careful to not wake his puppy. 
"Freya!" The man's voice shouted again, sounding slightly closer this time. 
"Tata." The young woman repeated to Alfie who gave her a slow nod. 
Then it clicked. 
'Must be her father.' He thought as she gave him another smile. 
"Home." She softly added as she tried her best to copy how he had pronounced the singular word, once again pointing in the same direction she had a moment ago. 
"Oh, right, yeah. I best be headin' back myself. 
"Home?" She asked with a curious expression, her words laced with happiness. 
"Yes. My home is that way." He answered with a slight smile, pointing behind him, his thumb gesturing towards the path he and Cyril took.
"Jutro." She said with a look of hope. 
Once again, he was confused. 
"Jutro?" She asked instead, hoping it would make a difference. 
"I…I don't understand." He softly explained, taking a step closer to her.
"Jutro…jutro." She slowly repeated, making a gesture with her hands as she also took a step closer towards him.
Alfie paid close attention, trying to grasp what she meant as he closely watched her hands. Her left hand stayed still as her right one moved back to the front over her left. 
"Jutro?" She asked in a whisper. 
Then it hit him. 
"Tomorrow!" He blurted out, finally understanding. 
"Jutro!" She happily hummed out, grateful that he knew what she meant. 
"I'll come back tomorrow. Me and Cyril," He pointed to himself and his pup, 
"Will meet you," He pointed at her,
"Here." He promised as he pointed between them.
They were both happy that they had reached an agreement, just in time, as her father called out a third time, the voice closer now. She reached towards Cyril, giving his head a loving pat, being careful to not wake him. With a final look to Alfie, Freya slowly waved at him, giving him such a sweet smile before she hurried out from under the old stone bridge. He watched as she soon disappeared into the fog that was covering the far distance of Camden. 
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Some Time Later
Freya, Alfie, and Cyril were inseparable. Wherever one was, so were the other two. The three spent much time each day under the stone bridge. It was mostly because Freya was scared to leave its safety. She had never dared go past the bridge, and Alfie never forced her. Until one month later when one particular morning Cyril had stepped on a small thorn and Alfie wasn't sure what was wrong with his pup. 
"Mate, you're limping." He said in concern as Cyril sat in place. 
Squatting down, Alfie carefully looked over his whimpering pup, trying to figure out what the source behind the discomfort was. 
"Alfie!" Freya happily called out to him from under the bridge. 
Looking towards her, he waved at her since she was waving at him. 
"I'll be just a second, alright? Something is wrong with Cyril." He called out to her as worry towards his dog's health began creeping into his head. 
Freya quietly watched as Alfie sat on the floor and Cyril didn't climb in his lap. In her eyes, it was all too strange that the puppy would rather sit on the floor than in his owner's lap because Cyril loves being in her and Alfie's laps. 
She could hear Alfie talking to Cyril, but all he would get in return were whines and whimpers of discomfort. Worry rose within her, and it was so fast in that moment that she hadn't realized her feet had minds of their own. They quickly walked her out from under the bridge and towards her friends. She sat beside Alfie, who glanced over at her then back to his dog, but then he quickly fully looked over at her. 
"Cyril." She said in worry with a small frown. 
Carefully, she picked him up, doing some inspecting of her own to see if Alfie possibly missed something when he had done the same just a second ago. 
"Freya, you're-" 
"Found it." She announced as she very gently laid the dog on her lap. 
She spotted a very small thorn wedged between the pads of his left back paw. 
"A thorn?" He asked her as she held it up for him to see. 
"Yes." She answered before flicking it away from them. 
"Better, Cyril?" She asked the pup as she set him on all fours. 
He happily wagged his tail before barking, obviously in a much better mood. 
"Freya," 
She turned to look at Alfie who wore a surprised expression on his face. 
"Yes?" She asks curiously. 
"You're out from under the bridge." He told her gently. 
She looked behind them, finding he was correct. She had left the safety of the bridge. Yet it didn't feel different now that she was out from under there. She was with Alfie and Cyril, which made everything seem normal. 
"Is good?" She hesitantly asked him. 
He gently smiled at her, enjoying that she had learned the English language so quickly with his help.
"Do you feel good about being here in the open?" He asked her. 
After giving the question some thought, she nodded, giving him a smile in return. 
"Then this means I can show ya the shops in the town." He excitedly said, and the thought of seeing all the different stores and products they have to offer caused her to smile again. 
That day, while they were in town, he asked her if she would allow him to be her boyfriend. She looked at him in slight shock as she thought of what he had just asked.
"If you don't want to be with me, I understand. It's just…I fancy you so much, Freya. You understand me like no one else does. You're beautiful and kind. Your nature is to heal and comfort. Mine is to destroy and create chaos. But none of that happens when I'm with you." 
"Yes." She answered once his words ceased. 
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, big smiles began to spread across their lips before she happily hugged him. He hugged her back, holding her tightly as she excitedly giggled into his chest. 
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1914: World War I
Two months passed before their lives drastically changed. A war had begun, and by what Alfie told Freya, any and all help was needed. 
"They sent me this." He told her, holding up a folded paper. 
"What is it?" She hesitantly asked. 
He took a good long look at her. He didn't want to tell her. He couldn't. He couldn't bear to see the sadness he knew would be on her face. He didn't want to tell her that he might die far away from home. Yet he forced himself to answer her. 
"It's a letter. I've been…" 
She stepped closer to him, seeing the worry in his eyes,
"I've been drafted. They need me to go fight. I leave in two weeks." 
Silence lingered between them as they looked at each other.
"You can't leave." She whispered as a small frown took over her lips. 
"I have to. They'll punish me if I don't." He softly explained. 
"But…But what if you don't return?" She asked him.
Tears began to form in her eyes, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her. 
"I will. I will return. That much I promise you." 
Those two weeks were spent with each other. The young couple felt that they couldn't get enough time together as the day they both dreaded quickly approached. When that morning came, the two closely stayed by each other's sides as they waited for the designated train to pull into the station. 
Freya couldn't stop thinking about how to help Alfie feel less nervous. He was holding her hand as if his life depended on it. Then it dawned on her.
She moved to take off one of the many necklaces that hung around her neck. Making sure she had the one she wanted, she moved to stand in front of her boyfriend. He looked at her with curious eyes, wondering what she was doing. He had his answer when she held the necklace towards him. Understanding that she was trying to help, he slightly dipped his head down and felt her carefully slip it over his head. As it rested against his chest, he looked down at it, finding a small coin-sized plate hanging from the chain. The name of his girlfriend was engraved in a fancy font on the face of it. 
She had opened her mouth to speak, but the train was coming into the station, blaring its horn in the process. The other men, young and older and who had also received a letter that requested their help in the war, began saying goodbye to their significant others or their families. Slowly, Freya's eyes met Alfie's. 
"I promise to come back to you. No matter how far away I am, you'll be here in my heart. That's why you gave me this, right?" He asked as he pointed to the necklace. 
"Yes." She answered in a whisper. 
The train horn blared again, and even though the recruited men didn't want to, they all began lining up beside the train car to board it. Mothers and wives were crying while waving their sons and husbands off. Looking down at Freya, Alfie tightly embraced her. It was warm and loving, and neither wanted to let go. Reluctantly, he was the first to pull away after a solid minute. 
"Don't cry, my love." He whispered as he gently wiped away her tears. 
She placed her hands over his own, wanting to feel them in hers one last time until who knew how long. He leaned down, placing his mouth over hers, and she followed along by closing the space between them. The kiss was beautiful; familiar, and slow as they tried to be physically connected for as long as they could. When they couldn't breathe anymore, they pulled away, and after they caught their breaths, she sadly watched as he picked up his bags. 
"Can I ask you for a favor?" He spoke softly. 
"Anything." She answered quickly. 
"Will you please look after Cyril and collect my mail while I'm gone? I don't get much, if any, but I'll write to you every chance I get." He explained. 
She gave him a nod as it sank in for both of them that they were not dreaming and would be apart with neither knowing for how long. With an apologetic expression towards her, he began to also join the long line of recruited men. 
He was only 15 feet away from her, yet she was already missing his touch. So, she did what any love stricken girlfriend would do. 
"Alfie!" She called out. 
He was about to fill an empty spot in the line when he quickly turned around. He was met by Freya rushing towards him, and just before he could drop his bags, her arms were around his neck. The force that came with her was so great that he almost lost his balance, but the young men on his right and left sides steadied him. They gave him knowing smiles as they took his bags and held them for him. His arms were wrapping themselves around her waist once his hands were free. 
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When she looked up at him, they kissed again, the action done in haste as the train horn was heard again. When they pulled away, Alfie rested his forehead against hers. 
"I love you." He told her with such seriousness that she couldn't help but smile. 
"I love you, too." She responded, and he slowly began to let go of her just like she did to him. The warmth they both felt from the embrace quickly turned cold as the two young men handed Alfie his bags again. Freya smiled sadly at him, earning the same smile from him.
A woman gently pulled her away from the line as it shortened, telling her that it was safer to wait by the waiting area than be too close to the tracks. Freya learned that the woman was a mother and had just said goodbye to her three sons. They both stood together, watching in fear and sadness as the train began to slowly take off. Alfie waved at her, just like the woman's sons did. The four had gotten seats right beside some windows. Freya waved back at him, trying her best to not cry so Alfie wouldn't remember her like that.
From that day, exactly one week passed until she heard from him. She was sitting in the living room of his home. Cyril was lying beside her as they both occupied the longest sofa. As she went through the mail to see if he had written to her, her heart raced when she saw her name on one envelope. She dropped the other few envelopes to the floor and got to opening hers right away. Her eyes were met by her boyfriend's handwriting, and they didn't hesitate to begin reading. 
'Freya, 
I am missing you. I know it has just been a couple of days, but I cannot wait to see you again. It is hard to be away from you for this war against France. I know that what I am doing is for the good of people, but nothing truly feels good without you. I am hoping to see you again soon. But, until then, know that I love you dearly and that I left my heart with you, my darling. 
I love you, 
-Alfie 
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Tears ran down her cheeks as she realized that only a week had passed. How long would it be until they saw each other again? Would he make it back? Would this war turn him into someone she wouldn't recognize when…if…he returned? Looking at Cyril, who was closely watching her, Freya continued to softly cry. The dog became concerned, so he moved his head to be in her lap. As soon as she felt Cyril's weight, she hugged him, crying into his fur as he lowly whined. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
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“Freya. Freya, can you hear me love?” Alfie called out walking through the big green forest both his shoulders and hair drenched in rain.
He has been calling out for his wife for an hour or so hoping that she didn’t go far from where they lived. Beneath his shoes the pathway was muddy in some spots trying his best to not slip. Some paces later Alfie saw a black smokey cloud in the distance. At first he thought it would be Freya’s family that were set at camp but as he made his way towards the cloud. It turned out to be the old stone bridge where he and Freya would mostly spend time together and where they first met all those years ago. It’s like he could remember it like it was yesterday.
How time flies so fast…
Seeing the smoke coming from underneath he carefully made his way down a steep path. Once making it down Alfie embraced the site of the old bridge placing a hand against its few stones. Remembering the old days of both him and Freya’s life when they would meet each other secretly. Until Freya’s father found out about their meetups one day and it caused both of them to not see or speak to each other for weeks. But eventually Freya told her father that Alfie was nothing but a gentleman and a marvelous boy towards her. Knowing that Alfie wasn’t never the type of man to lay a hand on her for any reason. Her father at first didn’t believe in her daughter for a while but eventually when one day Alfie without feeling afraid. Went to visit her home and talked with her family hoping that they will see a different perspective and let Freya be his friend. 
“If you ever do anything that will harm my lovely daughter you stay away from us and never come back. Is that understood boy?” Said Harald Freya’s father pointing a sharp finger at the young boy which in reply a nod in agreement. 
And after that discussion Freya was free to see and speak with Alfie which she was relieved that her father finally let her see her friend. It was as if that event just happened yesterday how he wished to relive that moment one more time.
Alfie then made his way towards the large opening of the bridge where he found Freya sitting on the wet cold ground. Hugging her legs together while she stared at the small campfire she made not too long ago. Her long dark brown hair was wet from the rain as well as her clothes. It didn’t bother her since she is after all a gypsy who has traveled to many places. And the rain was one of her favorite weathers feeling like she is at peace for the most part. Freya didn’t notice his presence until Alfie sat next to her. She scooted a bit to the side still feeling upset towards him not forgetting what he told her earlier. Alfie noticed this not wanting to push her buttons anymore knowing he has caused so much tonight. The crackling sound of the wood against the fire continued and Freya and Alfie didn't say much for a moment. While the sound of faint thunder was heard far towards the distance as the drops of water continued to gently pour down. Alfie wanted to say something at first but he didn’t feel brave to say anything yet. Freya tightens her long black scarf around her shoulders, feeling the cool wind feeling shivers running through her body. Noticing this Alfie without exchanging any words removed his long black coat from himself. He gently placed the warm material over Freya making her flinch but yet welcomed it. She looked him in the eyes giving off a small faint smile nodding her head in “thank you.” Alfie returned the gesture they both didn’t say much again. As some time has passed for too long Alfie finally surprising himself at the words he said next.
“I’m sorry,” is all that he could say looking forward to the fireplace.
When Freya heard him say those two words she looked at him with a confused look. Not believing in what he just heard him say.
“What did you say?” She then said wanting to make sure she heard him correctly.
Before he said anything he sat straight while clearing his throat. He turned to see his wife having to repeat himself again. Inhaling a small breath he heard himself again saying those two words he mostly never says until now.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you back at home my love. My frustration and stubbornness got the best of me and I never meant to say those things to you either. Work has been a pain in the ass these past couple of days and today was the worst of them all,” he says, lowering his eyes looking at his hands biting his lips together as he went on, “once those words came out of me mouth I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. Looking at your eyes I saw how hurt you felt and I wanted to just kill myself then and there for what I have said to the love of my life. I just…just.”
Freya could see the tears forming against his blue eyes knowing that he meant every word that he was saying to her. Seeing and hearing the guilt in his eyes and voice wishing he could take back what he didn’t mean to say. She also felt her eyes filling with tears as one teardrop stream down the corner of her right eye gently wiping it away with the back of her right hand. No words were exchanged Freya tightly hugged Alfie around his neck almost making him tilt to the side. But they both steadied themselves; she then felt his arms wrapping around her embracing in each other's arms. 
“I know you didn’t mean those words my love, but that doesn’t make me stop loving you no matter what. I love you so much my Alfie, like you don’t imagine,” she said leaning back to look him in the eyes, placing her right hand against his left cheek as their foreheads touch each other.
“I promise you at this very moment that I’ll not let my emotions get to me very easily. Because I never want to see my flower look sad and hurt ever again. And I love you too my Freya like you don’t know either,” he said back, placing a small light kiss on top of her forehead.
“I hope you know I’m not one of your workers who will tolerate your screaming and shouting, Alfie. I'm your wife." Freya reminds her husband placing both her hands on each side of his cheeks.
Alfie nods immediately. "I know, sweetheart.”
"Don't you ever do this to me again, yes?” Freya says, sounding not too angry anymore with a more relaxed smile.
He gives her a small smile while nodding again. "I wouldn't dream of it." He says as he gets closer to her. 
She can't stay mad at him forever, so she also gets closer to him. He leans down to kiss her, and when their lips touch, it all comes flooding back to him. The very first moment they shared their love for each other. 
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She could only imagine the beautiful bodies of other young women he had seen before she had ever met him. How could she compare? Surely they were much more beautiful than she. Every scar she had ever earned, from quick evacuations with her family when they encountered danger throughout their travels, were on display. They were like directions to every imperfection she had. Yet there she stood in front of the edge of his bed, bare. He stood before her, wearing only boxers. His bright blue-green eyes drank in every centimeter of her skin before they looked deep into her eyes. 
"Freya," 
The way her name gently left his mouth made her heavily blush. All she could hear in his words was love. The emotion was very clear, and it gave her some relief, but not enough to wash her nerves away entirely. 
“You’re absolutely stunning; a vision, a work of art.” He spoke, genuinely meaning every word.
He slowly closed the space between them, his eyes staying on her face the whole time as he walked a few steps towards her. She suddenly held her breath. She didn’t want to tell him that this was her first time having sex. 
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“What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper. 
He could see there was some concern written on her face, and it only grew the more he looked at her. 
“Alife, I…” 
He patiently waited for her to say what she needed, 
“I’ve never had sex.” 
His face grew pink at her confession. 
“We don’t have to do anythin’, love. I would hate to make you uncomfortable.” 
“I want to.” She quickly assured him. 
Silence took over between them as they stared at each other. 
“Neither have I.” He confessed. 
“What?” She asked softly. 
“I’ve also never had sex.” He clarifies. 
“Do you still want to…with me?” She asked with hesitance. 
“It would be an honor to have you be my first, my darling.” He answered.
She smiled up at him as her body relaxed a bit more. Slowly, she reached towards him, lightly placing her hands on his bare chest. It showed scars, all of them proof of his time away from home and fighting against enemies. A small smile crossed his lips as he placed his right hand at the back of her neck. His left hand made itself at home at her lower back. Before she knew it, he gently laid her down on his bed, helping her get more comfortable before he was hovering over her. His body was flush against hers but he made sure to keep his weight off her. 
“I’ll look after you, my love.” The promise was said in a gentle voice, and it caused the rest of her nervousness to fade away. 
Slowly, he dipped his head down and his lips began to pay special attention to the crook of her neck, leaving gentle kisses along one side. A sharp inhale had him straightening up. His eyes met hers, only to receive a nod. 
“I’m alright.” She whispered as a blush appeared. 
“I will not hurt you.” He spoke once he realized that she had been enjoying herself. 
Her focus on the soft pressure of his lips against the skin of her neck was broken when an entirely new sensation caught her by surprise. His right hand had begun to slowly trail up the inside of her leg. It traveled up slowly, leaving goosebumps behind as it rested on her hip. Lifting his head once again, his eyes were glued to her. He needed to make sure she was okay with what he was doing. The look of sheer lust in his girlfriend’s eyes was enough to send a blush erupting through his cheeks. He never removed his gaze from her face as his hands met at her underbust. 
“May I?” He asks, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. 
“Please.” She answered, arching her back off of the bed. 
He wasn’t sure if it had been the way she sweetly exhaled his name or if the sight of her so eager to be felt by him caused confidence to surge through him, but he was grateful that she trusted him so much. Slowly, his hands made their way up her sides, stopping on either side of her breasts. Very gently, he cupped them at the same time, earning a satisfied hum from her. 
“You’re warm.” She spoke, causing a chuckle to leave his mouth. 
“That’s one of the reasons you’re with me, innit?” He asked, watching a smile form on her lips. 
“One of many.” She answered, closing her eyes as his large, calloused hands began to completely cover her breasts. 
It was a nice contrast of rough against smooth. She enjoyed the way his hands held her so perfectly as his lips began kissing down her chest. They moved to kiss her left breast, then her right, and each kiss felt better than the last. He loved the way her back arched into him; it told him that he was doing a good job so far, and he wanted to keep that up. His index and thumb fingers found her nipples, and he gently began rolling them between his fingers at the same time. 
“Oh!” She moaned out. 
Her hands reached out to grab his arms, but by no means was she trying to get him to stop. Instead, she pulled him closer, and her fingers threaded his hair. She could feel immense heat between her legs, knowing that as much as she wanted to take it slow, she wasn’t going to last much longer. Her eagerness aroused him so much that his erect cock was throbbing in his boxers. Yet, he didn’t want to rush anything, for her sake. The last thing he wanted was to wind up hurting her unintentionally. His lips continued their kisses along her chest, leaving light love bites here and there, before they trailed kisses up to her neck. One of his hands left one of her breasts to gently glide down her stomach and stopped just above the place she needed his touch the most. She moaned into his mouth, hoping to convey her feeling of arousal to him enough for him to be bold enough to touch her. 
“Alfie, please.” She whimpered after they pulled away.
“You’re sure?” He hesitantly asked.
“Very sure. I need you.” 
“Say less, my darling.” He hummed out. 
He never removed his gaze from her face, his eyes boring into hers as his hands continued to move down her body while his mouth kissed every inch of her skin that was available. Finally, his fingers rested at her core, and the heat radiating from it was enough to make him groan in approval. Very slowly, his fingers circled her clit, and the look of pure relief flooded her face just as her head tilted back. Her back arched off of the bed and her hands found his hair to grab hold of. 
“Alfie…” 
The way she moaned his name had him circling her clit a little faster, wanting to see if the same blissful look would cross her face again. It did, and it made him so happy to see her enjoying his touch. His hands had done unspeakable things during the war, but none of that was important in that moment. Very slowly, he slid his finger inside of her, the accumulation of her arousal having made it an easy entrance. He slowly groaned as he felt her walls take his finger deeper, tightening around it while he gently moved it around inside of her. 
“You alright, love?” He asked, earning a moan in response. 
“More.” She breathlessly answered. 
“You’re sure?” He asked, slowing his movements. 
He stood up with his finger still inside of her, but he froze in place when she gave him a look of pure need. 
“I want you to make me yours.” She answered with such a seriousness that had his heart fluttering in his chest. 
“You're…sure?” He asked again as he hovered over her. 
“Yes.” She answered. 
His free hand made its way behind her head, lifting it enough so their mouth could meet for a loving kiss. He removed his finger from her aching walls and that hand swiftly slid down his boxers. No longer was there a barrier between them, and while it made her nervous, she found herself excited to finally be one with her boyfriend. He adjusted himself between her legs, gently parting them even more. When she caught a glimpse of his erection, heat flooded her face. It looked much too big to fit inside of her. 
“Do you want to stop?” He asked, having seen the way her eyes went a bit wide. 
“No.” She quickly answered. 
“Make me yours.”
Slowly, he brushed his cock along her soaking wet lips, causing them to slightly part. Then, very gently, he began pushing himself inside of her. Their groans harmonized for a few seconds as he stayed put for a few moments, allowing her to adjust to him. Everything felt so warm and so right when their lips connected once again. 
“You feel amazing.” He heavily sighed, the sound sending pleasant shivers up her spine. 
Her walls clenched around him each time he moved, the motion carefully done before he drove himself deeper. He held her body close against his, hoping to ease any pain that she felt. They lasted several minutes in that same position before her legs were wrapping around his waist. Their eyes met, and he could tell that she wanted more. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The speed of his thrusting increased, and it wasn’t long until both of them were moaning messes. She didn’t even have time to process the entirety of what was happening to her before she felt an all too strong sensation flood her body that caused her senses to be at a standstill. He stopped moving, wanting to make sure she was alright as her high ended a moment later. He peppered her face with gentle kisses before his lips were covering hers. 
“Freya, I…I’m close.” He warned her when he felt her walls fluttering around him. 
She tightly wrapped her arms around his neck, preparing herself for what was to happen. He was about to move away from her to pull out, but she was quick to stop him by his shoulders. 
“Fill me.” 
A look of shock covered his facial features when he realized she was being serious. 
“Please.” She begged, and the whine alone was enough for him to give in. 
Hugging her to himself once again, he thrusted into her a few more times before he was groaning into one side of her neck. She softly moaned at feeling his hot cum filling her. He stayed inside of her for another minute before very carefully pulling out. He was quick to lay beside her, wrapping her up in his arms as she curled into his body. He reached for his discarded shirt, draping it over her as they both caught their breath. 
“Are you okay?” He asked, being the first to break the comfortable silence that filled his bedroom. 
“Yes. Are you?” She softly asked in return. 
“Yes.” 
“Thank you.” 
He looked down at her and gave her a small smile. 
“Love, I should be the one thankin’ you for trustin’ me so much.” 
She smiled at his words as he kissed her head. 
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Epilogue: 5 years Later
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“Where are those two rascals off too again?” Freya said to herself looking around from one room to another.
It has been a while since they moved out from Camden Town where Alfie was lucky enough to inherit a house near the beach. Margate was the name and it has been treating them fairly well where there was nothing else but a wonderful view of the sea and most of all quietness. But that wasn’t the only thing that brought the couple closer together. 
The sound of a small giggle was heard somewhere beyond the hallways which Freya knew exactly who it belonged to. 
“Alright now come out, come out wherever you all are,” called our Freya quietly tiptoeing her way towards where the chuckles were coming from. 
After Alfie and Freya got married some 3 years ago they afterwards welcomed their first child. It was such a blessing for the married couple that Alfie thought it was all a dream. Ellie was the baby girl's name, brown eyes like her mothers with a mix of stubbornness just like her father. It was a day to remember when they heard their baby’s first breath. Ever since that day Alfie was determined to be by his wife’s side, not caring if the distillery could continue without him. What mattered to him the most was his wife and daughter helping Freya out whenever she needed some time away from the baby. One late night however when Ellie was crying for hours Alfie took the baby in his arms while rocking against a wooden chair. He started to sing a lullaby to her in his mothers tongue which surprisingly made the little creature feel at ease. He also didn’t notice that her tiny hand was tightly holding onto his right index finger. He then smiled as he placed a gentle kiss against Ellie’s soft hair.
“I love you my little Ellie always and forever.” 
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Freya continued to quietly make her way to the small giggles that she could still hear. Knowing that she is already near them wanting to scare them in surprise. 
“Shhh… be quiet mama is going to hear us,” said little Ellie to someone else.
A couple of months later after the birth of Ellie, Alfie and Freya then welcomed their second child. It was Alfie that encouraged Freya to have another baby which she didn’t hesitate to say no to him. Nehemiah was the boy's name that was given to him. Just like his father he wasn’t afraid of anything, always liking to get into some sort of trouble taking no for an answer but always obeyed his father whenever he would go one step far. But he would also have his moments whenever he felt like he needed to talk with his mother. Trying to also find his calmer side of himself and getting as much advice from his mother. 
“Whenever you feel angry or lost, always remember that I am here for you my love. And so is your father but just know that you're never alone my little one.”
“Oh you also be quiet Ellie I’m sure by now mama will hear us,” Nehemiah said playfully, nudging onto his sisters right arm not noticing their mothers presence.
“FOUND YOU BOTH!” Surprised Freya, making the two children scream from fright. 
Both children got on their feet quickly running away from their mother which she wasn’t too far behind. She scooped Nehemiah off from the wooden floor yelping and laughing while Freya hugged him tightly around her arms. She then placed a couple of kisses on the little boy's cheeks while feeling Ellie hug her mothers legs.
“Haha mama let Nehemiah go, how did you know we were here?” The little girl questioned, still holding onto her mothers leg.
“You both were giggling and that led me to finding your hiding place. But enough of playing around you two how about we get the table ready for dinner before papa comes home. How does that sound, my darlings?” She said kneeling in front of her two beautiful children while they nodded their head in “yes.”
Some time later it was already dark outside as the cool breeze blew ever so gently while Freya and her two children waited patiently for Alfie’s return in the living room. The crackling sound of the fireplace was heard in the background while Cyril lay down beside Ellie and Nehemiah while the children played with their toys. Freya was sitting on top of one of the couches while looking at the clock, seeing that it had passed the time Alfie should be home by now. Quietly tapping her right foot against the carpet floor the trio then heard the front door open. Indicating that they had finally returned home as Nehemiah and Ellie then ran their way out of the living room to greet their father. 
“Papa papa,” said both children in unison as Alfie opened his arms wide out to them while kneeling down. 
They all huddled down to the floor making both children giggle at their action.
“How are my two lovely children doin’ eh? I miss you all very, very much,” Alfie said as he gently stood up off the floor while Cyril nuzzled his wet nose against his owner's face.
“I also miss you as well you big mutt.”
“Ummm excuse me where is my welcoming kiss? I  hope you don’t forget about me Mr. Solomon’s,” Freya said, placing her hands on top of her hips but gave a cheeky smile.
“Hehe why would I not forget my lovely beautiful wife that always brightens my heart whenever I see her hmm?” He said getting up on his feet while Freya smiled and giggled as they both exchanged a kiss on the lips. 
“Ewwww, gross,” said Ellie, making a disgusted face which Freya found funny. 
Once the happy family settled down for dinner the night went on perfectly. As everyone feasted, Alfie and Freya held hands together as they memorized their beautiful little family. Not believing that they have come this far not expecting to have children this quickly. Alfie always thought he would only focus on himself growing his empire until his passing. But when he found Freya all those years ago as a child and saw how they both fell in love with each other. Suddenly all those ideas faded away seeing the perfect future already blooming in front of him. As dinner was ending both Ellie and Nehemiah started to grow sleepy while they all sat in the living room together. Alfie took Ellie in his arms gently taking her up stairs to her bedroom. Freya following close behind held Nehemiah in her arms while the child tried his best to stay awake. 
“Mama I’m not tired yet really,” protested the little boy but Freya wasn’t having it.
“Now my dear don’t be that way, it is late and you need your rest. And we’re going to the beach and if you don’t get your sleep you’ll be tired the next day. Now be a good boy and rest your eyes now, yes?” She said as she opened the door to the boys room as he placed him down on the soft bed. 
“Really mama, do you mean it? Oh I can’t wait to go now alright I’ll head to bed now,” cheerfully says Nehemiah as he gets himself under the bed sheets making Freya chuckle at this. 
“Very well my little Nehemiah i will see you in the morning my love. Goodnight my sweet boy,” she said, placing a gentle kiss on top of the boy's head caressing his left cheek in between.
Once Freya quietly closed the door behind her Alfie was already out of Ellie’s room. They both smiled at each other Alfie held out his hand towards his lovely wife. Freya walked up to him placing her hand on top of his making their way towards their bedroom. Once inside Alfie gently shut the door behind him and without losing another moment he embraced Freya around his arms. They both looked deep into their eyes as their foreheads touched against each other. 
“How is my lovely Queen Solomon’s feeling hm?” He asked, feeling her arms hugging around his neck while she let out a small giggle. 
“Wonderful as always you know I always still question to this day. How did I get very lucky to have you in my life Alfie? Why me and nobody else?” She questioned him wanting to hear those same words over and over again.
“Hehe do you really want me to repeat the same thing over and over again? How many times do I have to tell you my love? Because if I never met you in my life I wouldn’t have known such a wonderful spirit free and goddess like you. And that I am grateful and blessed   to say that you're my one and only woman. I wouldn’t want no one else but you my dear,” he said while gently placing Freya down against the bed hovering above her, taking in her thin lips between his.
Embracing each other in their arms they both laid there nakedly while Freya could hear her husband's heartbeat against her right ear. A small smile was spread throughout her face wanting to be like this forever. And all the while without Alfie not knowing Freya is expecting another blessing that was growing inside her womb.
I love you always and forever Alfie Solomons… until the ends of the earth…
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inkwolvesandcoffee · 4 months
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✨IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! (New WIP Snippet)✨
Yes, ladies and gentleman and non-binary people of good taste, I’ve finally started THAT story.
A Portrait of Happiness
So, because I’m excited and apologetic about not having edited Siúil a Rún like I had hoped, I thought I’d pop in to share a wee snippet of this new tale’s prologue. I know I probably don’t have anything to actually apologize for, but yours truly is still feeling a wee bit guilty all the same.😅
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For those of you who have no idea what in blazes I’m on about, here’s the post in which I discuss the general concept of the story.
Tag list: @hecatemoon87 @zablife @potter-solomons @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual @babaohhhriley @wandawiccan60 @solomons-finest-rum @dreamlandcreations @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @buttercupsandboys @rose-like-the-phoenix
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