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muneca-lemon-steppa · 2 months

Note

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic

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warnersister · 4 months

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“The silent treatment” Alfie Solomons x Reader

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

You can’t stay mad and quiet at him forever, at least not if he can help it.

You looked Alfie in the eyes before you shook your head and turned around, walking away from your husband. “Where are you going?” You stayed silent, walking up the stairs to get yourself ready for bed. He creased his brows and followed closely behind you. “You can’t just stop an argument by not talking.” You didn’t even acknowledge him, just undoing the back to your dress and allowing it to fall to the floor; unclipping your hair from your updo and letting it fall.

Alfie felt offended: that was his job; you always let him take down your hair.

“Ziskeit, the silent treatment isn’t the way to go about this.” He told you, but you just wandered off to put your slip dress and slide into bed. Alfie was still stood in the doorway in disbelief, watching as you went on about your day as if you didn’t live with your husband of three years.

“Poppet-” click the lamp beside your bed turned off and Alfie’s jaw was on the floor, tutting at you. How dare you? He went about his own nightly routine, trying not to seem wounded by his lack of goodnight kisses and giggles as he’d tickle your neck with his beard. Eventually, he laid beside you and put an arm around your waist but it was shrugged off. “Look treacle I don’t care how fucked off you are with me, right. But I should be able to sleep comfortably with my wife.” He said, gruffly into your ear; moving again to replace his hand.

Again, you’d pushed it off. “Fucking unbelievable. Cant touch my own wife.” He’s grumbled, turning over and crossing his arms to try to force himself to sleep angrily when all he really wanted was your embrace on a cold night.

The next morning, he’d woken up to you doing your hair at the vanity he’d bought you for your last birthday. He’d walked over and pecked your cheek. “Morning ziskeit” he said and you said nothing, didn’t even look at him. He sighed exasperatedly. “Still doing that are we.”

He put his hands on the back of your chair and leant down to look at you in the mirror. “Real mature of you this, poppet.” He told you, taking the hair in the pony tail and wrapping it around his hand. “Knew I’d married a younger woman when we said our vows but didn’t realise I’d married a little girl.” He tugged the hair sharply. “Perhaps you need daddy to reeducate you, hmm?” You looked back at him in the mirror and shivered, and for a moment he’d thought he’d won. You just picked up the nice little expensive perfume bottle he’d bought you and sprayed it twice on your neck, getting him straight in the face. He just huffed and let you be. You couldn’t continue this forever.

He trudged down the stairs and went to make you both some breakfast, simultaneously tightening jars and putting cans higher than he knew you could reach, placing a plate in front of you when you’d arrived downstairs. But before you could even look at it, Alfie had wagged his finger at you. “Only girls who use their manners get fed.” He said and you narrowed your eyes. He took your chin in a hand and hummed at you as though speaking with a disobedient child. “Hmm? So? You going to ask politely, ziskeit?” You clenched your jaw and swatted the hand away once more, standing to go feed Cyril.

It went on similarly for the rest of the day, you trying to open things, to no avail - just for your husband to swoop in like some saviour and offer to do it “if you just say please” to which you’d throw the jar in the bin. Or when you’d stretch go grab something high up, even trying to climb on the counter, feeling hands on your waist “I’ll give you a hand, just have to ask, treacle.” And you’d jump down.

And it was like Groundhog Day as he found himself in the same position he was in yesterday. “Please loves, just need to hear your voice I’m sorry.” He’d pleaded, watching you undress ready for bed. “Right-” he’d grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, barely any garments covering your dignity. He gently dropped you on the bed and settled himself between your legs, ripping your undergarments off as he looked up at you “let’s see how long you can stay fucking quiet”

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charliehoennam · 2 months

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A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request made here. Happy reminder that requests are open!!

Summary: Alfie comes homes late at night and finds his pregnant wife sleeping on the couch and confesses his fear to his unborn child

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warning: sexual connotations towards the end, language, pregnancy themes

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Alfie was never one to be easily scared. He had a tough upbringing and, being the man of the house to his two older sisters, Rebecca and Debora, and their divorced mother, he had to grow up fast.

His father had left before Alfie was even born, leaving his son to become the only man of the house.

Sure, his mother was quite the mama bear herself. But there had always been resentment from Alfie towards his unacquainted father for leaving his mother to fend for her children on her own.

Alfie vowed that, if he ever became a father, he would support and help the mother of his child however he could, no matter how unconventional.

You felt like the luckiest woman in the world to be married to him. Alfie was nothing like most men. Most men would participate very little in these affairs, believing them to be limited only to women, but not Alfie. And if anyone dissed him for it, he'll tell those cowards to fuck right off because he wouldn't leave you alone in one of the most painful moments of your life.

It wasn't very common for you either. Part of you was so worried about just having him present for the birth. You worried he wouldn't want to go anywhere near you after it - obviously after you've healed - or have another child.

"Love, after the war I've seen, there is no amount of blood that can scare me away. Now, I won't pry if you don't want me to, of course. I'll respect whatever boundaries you have. But I would like to be there to hold your hand at the very least," he'd say.

He was hellbent on getting you all the best doctors and only the most experienced midwives to assist with pregnancy and the labor.

He didn't avoid making love to you because you were pregnant. It surprisingly turned him him on, made him certain about getting a baby back into you as soon as he could.

Every night, he came home to you with your favorite sweet and treated you to a warm bath together entitled to a foot rub and back rub just before bed.

Every afternoon, he'd meet you exactly at 3 when the weather wasn't too sunny or cold for a walk around the square or the block.

Every morning, once it became harder for you to bend over, he'd kneel down every time to get your heels on for you and compliment how beautiful you looked.

Regardless of the arguments you'd have, he was always consistent with his help. It didn't matter how he felt, he put his feelings aside as he reminded himself that they were nothing compared to the human growing in your body.

Your unborn child had reminded him of his sisters struggles during their terms. Crying over their husbands' affairs, neglected and alone, desperately wondering how they would raise the child. He was only a boy at the time, but he made sure to remember their names.

Once older and stronger, he tracked down all the men responsible for breaking his sisters' hearts and punished them with a beat-down they'd never forget. He considered offing them, but he figured the very least they could do is provide financial support. So, before they could even speak right or breathe through a healed nose, he put them into jobs his contacts proposed especially to him in order to keep a close on them.

That was simply Alfie's nature. Protective and vengeful.

Despite barely having to lift a finger for anything ever since Alfie hired an entire team to assist you, your body still felt exhausted and heavy from the weight of the growing baby in your belly.

You found yourself sat on the couch with Cyril snoring peacefully at your feet, warmed by the crackling fireplace before you.

You wanted to lie in your bed and rest your swollen feet in the comfortable warmth of your cotton linens, but Alfie still wasn't home. You worried when he got home late.

It took one look at the winding wooden stairs to convince you to swing your legs up on the couch, stretching them over the plush cushions.

Closing the heavy book in your hand, you tucked it snug between your side and the back of the couch for a quick shut-eye.

When Alfie arrived home, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He wasn't sure if you'd gone to bed, but he did know you had trouble sleeping without him. Your limited sleep positions were nothing as comfortable as snuggling up to his side.

Locking the door, he hung up his coat and hat. Just before he could make it to the first step of the stairs, he heard Cyril's snoring coming from the living room. That's when he noticed the light radiating from the fireplace, dancing against your skin as you slept soundly.

He stood in the door watching you for a moment, basking in the image of your sleeping frame. The warmth of the fireplace could not compete with of that which spread through his chest.

Alfie smiled to himself as he gazed upon you, his eyes admiring every crevice and hair on your face. The line of your nose, the eyelashes you'd bat at him, the shape of your lips and the faint curve of your smile lines. He loved knowing he'd been the main cause of those particularly.

But, as his gaze moved down to your protruding belly, he was reminded how close the day was. He wondered how the months flew by so fast.

He felt like he had so much time to prepare for fatherhood, but he felt just as hopeless as when you first told him about the baby.

Stepping into the living room, he walked over quietly to join Cyril on the floor in front of the couch.

He stared into the fireplace as cyril shifted to rest his head on Alfie's lap - his laziest greeting yet.

Alfie sat on one side, leaving his opposite leg bent to rest his arm over his knee. Your belly was just inches away.

Moving his gaze back your clothed bump, he sighed heavily.

"You know, I never met my father, right," he whispered to the unborn child. "I think it's wise you know that now, 'fore you come out. Didn't have one growing up, see? So I 'avent got the slightest idea of how to be one."

Lured from your nap by Alfie's voice, you slowly blinked your eyes open. Although Alfie's head of hair was all you saw, you realized he wasn't talking to you and he couldn't see you were awake.

Eavesdropping wasn't very polite, but you couldn't help yourself. You didn't want to stop him, but hearing him to the baby in you was quite heartwarming so you decided to let Alfie have a bonding moment of his own.

"Truth is you got me downright scared," he continued. "Even after months, I still am downright terrified and you ain't even 'ere yet... I know it's a lot to ask, yeah, especially since you're still in there, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the world. But I give you my word I'll try my best to be the best for you and your mum. I hope you can understand that even when you decide to hate me whenever I give you an earful. Though I doubt I can do it. Think your mum will have to sort you out," he mumbled with a playful smirk. "I'll try my best for you, yeah? I just hope it's enough."

Alife's smirk faded as she gazed at your belly. He felt pathetic, venting to an unborn child as if that would solve all his problems. Alfie hated admitted, and he would never admit it to anyone but you, but he was terrified of becoming a father.

You didn't blame him; you had your own fears as well, so you could understand why this precious and fragile life had him so frightened.

He still hadn't noticed you were awake or that you had heard his confession. Until you lifted a hand to stroke the hair on the back of his head.

" 'eard all that, did ya?"

He didn't exactly blush, but he did feel warmth racing around his face with embarrassment.

"You're going to be a great father, Alfie" you answered. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But as long as we're together and we have each other, we can get through anything."

"Yeah, I know, love," Alfie nodded and sighed. He hated talking about his emotions, even if it was to the only person he could trust blindly. "I just don't want to be a disappointment like my father, if you could even call 'im that much."

"You won't be, and I'll tell you why. You're nothing like him," you smiled, carding your fingers through his brown locks. "You're a good man, Alf. I know you do what you have to do out there, but what matters to me is the man you are in here. And in here, you're a good man. And I wouldn't want to be carrying anyone's child. I'm honored to be the mother of our babe."

"You really mean that?" he smiled trying to look over his shoulder at you, as far as his neck - and age - allowed.

"Every word. You're worried enough to ask your sisters and the midwives for help, Alf. Not many men care to even worry about that sorta thing."

"I'm not like most men," he smirked feeling a sense of pride. "How'd you know about that though?"

"Becca told me you been meeting her for tea every week for advice."

"I fucking knew it. I knew she'd blabber off to you," he chuckled shyly.

"It's nothing to ashamed of, love. I actually find your level of concern and willingness to help in whichever way extremely attractive," you smirked stroking the sensitive skin on his neck with your finger.

"Do you now?" He grinned mischievously knowing exactly where this was headed. One of the perks that came with your pregnancy, in the later stages of it, was the sharp peak of sexual desires.

There were no more worries about you getting pregnant - too late for that now - and seeing your belly swollen, with his child that he put inside you, only made him wish he could put more and more.

"I think I like where this is headed."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fic #tom hardy #peaky blinders

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fandom-puff · 5 months

Note

Hi! Just wanted to say I love your writing and was wondering if I could request "overstimulation + praise kink" with Alfie Solomons from Peaky Blinders please? No pressure though and thank you!!

Thank you so much!! I love Alfie <333

Warnings: contains Overstimulation, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, praise kink

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x fem!reader

“There’s a good girl,”

Alfie’s voice was low and gruff as he coaxed yet another orgasm from your oversensitive cunt, this time with his thick calloused fingers pumping deliciously in and out.

Your back arched, pushing your naked breasts against him, and you whimpered as your erect nipples grazed against his clothed chest. Eyes rolling back, your mouth went slack as slurred curses and groans of his name tumbled out in a muddled moan.

Alfie continued his ministrations, nosing at your neck and grazing his teeth against your throat, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Doing so well, pet,” he murmured, sucking a mark into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Such a good, good fucking girl for me,”

As his thumb reached up to circle your clit, your legs clamped around his hand, squeezing his wrist as you rocked into his touch. White-hot pleasure seared painfully through every fibre of your being, but you weren’t willing to throw in the towel just yet. You could feel your own wetness smeared on your neck and chest, transferred from Alfie’s beard to your skin once he emerged from between your legs. He had drawn out several releases just from his tongue, and now he had moved onto using his fingers to tease you open, swirling your slick and his saliva around your sensitive pussy until you shook over and over with pleasure.

“Think you’re ready for my cock?”

It was a stupid question; of course you were ready for his cock, and you had been for the best part of two hours. You had even begged for it… about four orgasms ago. “Please,” you whispered again. “Please, need it, Alf, please!”

“So pretty when you beg, darlin’,” he told you, kneeling between your thighs and shucking off his shirt, before tugging himself from his pants. You groaned at the sight of his heavy cock, pushing your hips up towards him. He smirked, holding the base in his fist as he lined up with your entrance, running the tip up and down your wet slit. “Gonna be a good girl and milk my cock?”

When you nodded eagerly, he grinned, pushing forward, stretching you out in a way his fingers never could. “Fuck… good girl, YN, love… take my cock so well, you do,” You moaned, already trying to rock your hips up and down, eager for him to ruin your overstimulated cunt. “My good little pet, drunk on my cock,” he grunted, starting to snap his hips against yours.

It only took a few thrusts before your overworked pussy was spasming uncontrollably around him, and he held onto your thighs, holding you close to him to keep his cock inside you. “Fuck… good girl,” he praised, and smirked as you tried to wriggle away. “But I’m not done with this perfect cunt just yet,”

#alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #Alfie Solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #Alfie solomons blurb #peaky blinders blurb #request

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samantha-rae-velcher · 6 months

Text

Master List

Master list Pt.2

YouTubers

Jschlatt

King pt.1 - smut

King pt.2 - smut/ fluff

Trust is for the weak - smut/angst

Trust is for the Weak Pt.2 - smut

Class final - smut

Class final Pt.2 - smut

Class final Pt.3 - smut

Dreams - smut

Frozen Treat - smut

Argument - smut

Aphrodite - smut

The Hunt - smut

Pretty Boy - smut

Crush - smut

What we once had - smut

Pipsqueak - smut

Silence - smut

Look at me - smut

Fireworks - fluff

Cuffed - fluff

Prized Possession - fluff

Moodboard - selfies your Bf Schlatt sends you

Moodboard - more selfies your Bf Schlatt sends you

Moodboard - pics you've taken of your bf Schlatt

Imagine - smut

Imagine - fluff

Swaggersouls

So pretty - smut

Lights out - smut

The Key - smut

Psychedelic Love - smut

"Happy birthday, sweetheart" - smut

Podcast - fluff

Imagine - smut

Your Narrator

Sick Day - fluff

Wholesome Viking Warrior Pt.1 - smut

Wholesome Viking Warrior Pt.2 - smut

Mully

"Good boy" - smut

Three Way - smut

Lightning - smut

Just a downtown stroll - smut

Break it up - Smut

Pretty little thing - smut

"She's mine" - smut

Sweet submission - smut

Lust - smut

Double the man power (Mully and Narrator) - smut

Cold chill and steam - smut

Point Proven - smut

VR - fluff

Bridge the gap - fluff

"I love my girl" - fluff

Joshdub

Threebee (Josh and Juicy) - smut

Daddy's princess - smut

Tom Hardy

The League (Bane) - fluff

The League Pt.2 (Bane) - fluff/violence

The League Pt.3 (Bane) - smut/fluff

The League Pt.4 (Bane) - fluff

Fearless (Alfie Solomons) - smut

Red (Alfie Solomons) - angst

The club (Reggie Kray) - smut

Star Wars

Past comes to haunt Future to save (Din Djarin) - fluff

Tune up Pt.1 (Paz Vizsla) - smut

Tune up Pt.2 (Paz Vizsla) - smut

Little one Pt.1 (Paz Vizsla) - smut

Little one Pt.2 (Paz Vizsla) - smut

Little one Pt.3 (Paz Vizsla) - fluff

TWD

Two hearted love (Aaron) - fluff

Trust needs to be earned (Aaron) - fluff

"Give me your hand" (Aaron) - fluff/ Violence

One on One (Eugene Porter) - fluff/ Violence

Stranger Things

Fight or flee Pt.1 (Eddie Munson) - fluff

Fight or flee Pt.2 (Eddie Munson) - smut

Fight or flee Pt.3 (Eddie Munson) - fluff

"Don't tell me you're getting mushy"- fluff

Shameless

"Tell your boyfriend I'll kill him" (Mickey Milkovich) - smut

The more you know (Mickey Milkovich) - smut

My wife (Mickey Milkovich) - angst/fluff

Keep off (Mickey and Ian) - fluff/Violence

What I own (Mickey and Ian) - fluff/ Violence

Boyfriend like Girlfriend (Mickey Milkovich) - fluff

The Last Of Us

"I love you, Y/n only you" (Joel Miller) - fluff

The Witcher

Silver and White (Geralt of Rivia) - fluff

Pretty (Joker) - Violence

I promise (Slade Wilson) - angst

General's gaze (General Zod) - smut

NCIS

"Fuck you, Dinozzo" (Tony Dinozzo) - fluff

Boardwalk Empire

Gangsters Paradise Pt.1 (Al Capone) - fluff

Gangsters Paradise Pt.2 (Al Capone) - fluff

Gangsters Paradise Pt.3 (Al Capone) - fluff/Violence

Gangsters Paradise Pt.4 (Al Capone) - fluff/Violence

Gangsters Paradise Pt.5 (Al Capone) - fluff

Mafia Pt.1 (Charlie Luciano) - smut

Vecchio Amico (Charlie Luciano) - fluff

Slashers

"The only monster I see is you" (Thomas Hewitt) - smut

All my stories wouldn't fit on this page, so I had to make a Pt.2

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months

Note

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!

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.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year

Text

Spoiled Brat

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Reader Word Count: 4.2k words Warnings: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, spanking, slight breeding kink, slight degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), language... A/N: I don’t know why this took me as long as it did but it’s finally here. I don’t know when I became a slut for Alfie Solomons, but I did, so enjoy this smut fic of him. Thank you.

Alfie Solomons was working late again at the distillery, burning away the hours of the evening as they faded into the late hours of the night. Alfie Solomons was working on some random paperwork he had no interest in as he ran his hand through his beard and grumbled about something trivial under his breath. Alfie Solomons was working away at God-knows-what while you slightly overstayed your welcome—although she insisted you hadn’t, even if her husband didn’t seem to agree—at your dear friend’s home. You left promptly, despite her invitation to stay and aggravate her husband even more (just for the fun of it, really).

You scratched her tabby cat behind the ears as he purred, resting its cheek in your hand and shutting his eyes. With a quick farewell to your friend, you were off onto the darkened street of Camden Town. Your heels clicked along the damp cobblestone as you wrapped your coat around your body. The moon was hardly present, a smile in the sky that showed little light to guide your way. You didn’t need it, you’d walked down that road a million times.

You could make out a few shadows in the dark, watching eyes that considered you for a moment before quickly looking away at the realization of who it was you actually were. They’d like to keep their heads fixed on their shoulders.

When you reached the building you knew all, you were greeted by the stragglers who usually stayed late, people who would also be leaving sooner than your husband. You regarded them with a little smile, and they returned it gratuitously.

You didn’t bother knocking on the door when you arrived at Alfie’s office. You twisted the handle and turned it open, stepping right through and hanging your coat and hat on the rack by the door. He didn’t have to look up to know it was you, as you were the only one who would ever think to let yourself in so boldly without permission from the big bad Alfie Solomons who kept a gun in his drawer next to the whiskey.

“Hello, love,” you greeted him warmly.

He grunted his reply at first before finally speaking after a prolonged silence. “How are you, dove?” he muttered, his face still stuck in the paperwork on his desk .

When you didn’t respond, he finally looked up at you. You stood in front of the door, your head tilted as you looked over at him through your lashes. He took in the sight of you and leaned back in his chair, watching your lashes flutter and your smile widen with a certain mischief he was all too familiar with in you.

“Uh, oh,” he said, setting his pen down and sliding his papers to the side. “She wants something.” His lips curled underneath his mustache with a grin he’d tried to keep away in the face of your pleading eyes.

“Alfie.” Your voice was small and gentle, raised a half step as you swayed a little with your hands behind your back. Your smile was that kind of smile meant to charm unsuspecting prey before they met their demise. Alfie knew it all too well, and has fallen victim to your hypnotic antics far too many times for his rough exterior and notorious reputation to handle.

He sighed deeply, holding his arms out wide to suggest one of his constricting bear hugs. “Come ‘ere, luv,” he requested. You gladly obey, walking over to him and taking your sweet time about it. You were just going to stand in front of him, tuck yourself between his legs and look down at him as he held your waist, but as soon as you were within arm’s reach, he pulled you down onto his lap and practically cradled you.

“Right, what is it?” he asked once you were situated, watching you with plenty of interest as his hand stroked along your back. You threw your arms around his neck, giving him your best puppy dog eyes—a look you and Cyril shared and only used for no good.

Then you bit your lip, and Alfie knew you meant only trouble.

“I’ve been thinking about things,” you began, trailing one hand to his chest and tapping your fingers there. He watched you like some sailor caught under a siren’s spell.

“What kinds of things?” he asked, humming deep in his chest. The sound buzzed underneath your hand, and he gave a little grin as he suggested, “Naughty?”

You chuckled lightly, “No.”

He huffed, his smile falling. “Right, then,” he said. “I dunno if I want to hear it now.”

You stifled your chuckle, granting him a large smile and using the full force of your pleading eyes. “Please?” you whispered, leaning in closer so your faces were hardly inches apart.

You were vividly aware of his finger tapping against your thigh as he held you in his lap. He gave in to your pleading with a sigh full of feigned exasperation. “Alright, alright,” he huffed. “Put them eyes away.”

You pressed your lips to his temple, buttering him up as you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed. Alfie sighed, too. He knew every single one of your methods, and he still fell for them every single time.

"I know we already have Cyril," you began slowly, "and I love him to death, but I was just wondering… What if we…?"

"You want another dog, is it? Done." He looked at you, flashing a smile that had you rolling your eyes. He just shrugged. "See? Wasn't that 'ard."

You raised a brow at him, "I want a cat."

He stared at you for a moment, his brows furrowed slightly as he seemed to think over that. "Alright, forgive my language, luv, yeah, but that's a right fuckin' awful idea."

You looked back at him, your pout returning with a vengeance as you pushed your lip out, your brow crinkling. "Why?" you whined.

"We don't need no pussy cat," he shook his head, his hand patting against your ass as he smirked at you. "I'm fine with the one I've got."

"Alfie," you softly reprimand, the seriosity falling short with your giggle at his slightly crude joke.

He continued to refuse, much to your dismay. "It'll scratch everything up, break shit. Plus, they fuckin' smell like shit and they're jus' fuckin' mean."

You rolled your eyes, "No, they're not! I have a friend who has a cat, and he's brilliant!"

He lolled his head back dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so you've already been brainwashed, eh?"

You jutted your bottom lip out once more. "Alfie, please?" you begged.

Again, he shook his head, his word final as he pressed his finger against your bottom lip to push it back into place. "You can suck that lip back in, luv, 'cause it's still a no."

"I can take care of it," you pushed.

"I'll have Cyril take care of it."

"Alfie!" you scolded.

He shrugged remorselessly. "Yeah, no."

You pulled a desperate card that you knew had a very low chance at success.

"Don't you love me at all?"

Not only did it not work as Alfie fell completely silent, looking back at you with a face lacking any playfulness, but now you were sure you had gotten yourself in trouble. You hid your inhibitions.

"Right," he started out slowly, lifting a finger to point at you. "This is what we are not gonna do, yeah? We are not going to do that little manipulation thing you do, eh, like you're a pretty little pup who never gets what she wants." He popped the 'P' of pup, staring you down with an intensity that nearly had you shaking.

"You know what we're gonna do?" he asked. "We're gonna behave like a good little girl," he got in your face for the last few words, "and agree that we ain't gettin' no cat."

You slump, "But…"

He shakes his head, "No buts."

You huffed, removing your hands from around his neck as you moved to stand. As soon as you were lifting off of his lap, he pulled you down again by your waist and made you face him. It was the very last card you had as you forced a tear to slip down your cheek, staring at him with the biggest eyes you could manage and allowing your frown to deepen.

The way he stared at you was almost frightening. It was incredulous, almost frustrated as he watched you exaggerate your sorrow for being told a very simple 'no'.

"Right," he began, "I want that pout and that fake little tear off your little scrunched up face right now, or I'll wipe it off myself."

A tear fell down your other cheek, and you had to turn away to hide it from him. He grabbed your face by your cheeks, squishing them together to bring your attention back to him.

"You have to the count of three, luv," he warned, displaying his hand as he readied it to begin his slow countdown. "One."

Your expression did not shift, your pout remained and your two crocodile tears dropped from your chin.

"Right, then."

He did not finish his countdown. He grabbed you roughly, manhandling you onto his lap so that you were laying across his huge thighs. You yelped in surprise as you were folded over, your bottom on display for him.

He began lifting up your dress, adjusting everything to give him a clear view of your white, silk undergarments. Then he tore those off of you so he could see your precious ass.

"Since you want to behave like some spoiled brat," he said, "we're going to treat you like one."

He gave you no warning at all before his hand was coming down rather harshly on your ass. It burned, a bright pain blossoming over your skin and staining it with a deep shade that Alfie marveled at. A surprised cry slipped out of you. He grunted.

"There we go. Let's give you something to cry about, sweetheart."

And he did. Smack after smack, he painted your skin the darkest shades of red as the pain bloomed along your ass and thighs. You bit your lip and, until he reprimanded you for it, tried to muffle your cries.

There was a sick kind of pleasure you were getting out of this, the both of you. Being bent over his lap like this, scolded for not being "a good little girl", It was a type of pain that was twisting in your gut and leaking out of your cunt.

By the time the punishment came to an end, your face was streaming with real tears as he wrapped his hand around your throat and lifted you to see your face again. "Look at me," he directed. "Have you learned your lesson yet, luv?"

You nodded quickly, propping yourself up as best you could so you could obey his simple command. "Yes," you breathed. "Yes, sir."

He examined your face, flushed and stained with tears. "Nah," he shook his head. "Nah, I don't think you have." He dipped his hand between your thighs. He wasn't even touching your pussy, but he could feel the wetness spreading along the inside of your legs, warm and soaking.

You closed your eyes, suppressing a moan as you nodded your head again to convince him. "Please."

He bit his bottom lip for a moment, a wicked grin spreading over his face as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, see?" he whispered. "Still askin' for things."

You would have scoffed or called him out for tricking you if you were so fucking frustrated right now, in need of his thick fingers to finally stop teasing your sensitive thighs and bury themselves in your waiting cunt. "I'm sorry, Alfie."

His thumb swiped over your cheek as he nodded. "I know you are, luv, but I'm not through with you yet."

Before you had time to respond to his words, he leaned forward and swiped everything off his desks. Papers flew in the air, pens shot across the room, plastic and metal miscellaneous scattered over the freshly swept floors scratched up from previous beatings and scuffings of shoes.

He tucked his arm under your body and picked you up easily, his biceps flexing and bugling out of the rolled up sleeve of his white shirt. He dropped you onto the cold wood with less sympathy than if he were not as angry with you. The coolness of the desks seeped through your dress and threatened to bring your nipples to a harder peak as you grasp at the edge of it, chest heaving with the anticipation of what he’d do. There was a stretch of silence where you heard nothing but felt the security of your dress lessen.

Alfie took a hold of your waist, clutched your sides with a tightening and loosening grip, as if he was testing out your stability, your strength. He came to a determination, choosing to flip you over onto your back with a rough shove. You moaned lightly when the table dug into across your shoulder blades and he tutted.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, waiting for Alfie to make his next move as he stood over you, thinking, calculating. He nodded a little, quiet and staring. When he finally moved, his hands came up to clutch around your dress as he slipped it off your body and discarded it on the floor like trash. At least he hadn’t torn it, he liked doing that.

Layer by layer, he yanked your clothes away until you were so completely bare before him. He admired you for a moment, just staring, thinking. “Right,” he mumbled under his breath, just another grumble of a word spoken into the air. He bent down, taking your face in his strong hand and clutching, your lips scrunching into a pout. “Since you want a pussy cat so bad,” he said, his eye contact searing, “why don’t I just pay some attention to yours? That should cancel out, eh?”

He didn’t leave time for you to respond before he was finally pressing his lips to your bare chest. Your back arched into him and a stifled moan wormed its way from your throat. His kisses traveled sparingly down to your soaked cunt. He hummed, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. A surprised yelp cut through the air when his hand came down on your folds, a loud smack accompanying the quick movement as your body jolted.

“Alfie,” you breathed.

He looked at you quickly, “Right, did I say you could fuckin’ speak, girl?” You shook your head, laying your head back on the desk a moment before meeting his gaze again. “That’s what I thought. Do yourself a favor and shut your mouth unless you’ve a pretty little moan for me. Alright?” You nodded quickly and he nodded back.

He gripped your thighs, kneading the flesh and spreading it wide. He blew some against your folds, testing your sensitivity and smiling to himself when your legs twitched. He leaned forward and pushed your chest back down when your back arched at his warm lips wrapping around your cunt. His hot tongue laved over your folds, licking up the arousal that coated your flesh and working his tongue into your hole.

You bit your lip as you moaned, eyes screwed shut as your mouth fell open. He worked you up and kept you there, making you climb higher and higher as he brought you to the cusp of pleasure. Your little mewls and moans were music to him, and you sang the most beautiful songs to him as he grunted into you. You made a mess of him with nothing but your slick arousal, riding his face as best he could when his strong arms held you down so easily.

And when you came, you did so with the broken moan of his name, gasping and clenching and arching your back off the table. But he didn't stop, even as you tangled your hands in his hair, he didn't stop. His insistent tongue continued to lick and his talented lips continued to suck.

You were reduced to a mess of tears and slick and rambling cries. You were so sensitive, the overstimulation was too much to handle as he tortured you.

He pulled back finally, granting you mercy as he watched you, face drenched, beard sticky with your cum. His kiss-swollen lips smiled as he loomed over you. "Oh, look at that," he marveled. "Now those are some fuckin' tears, right. Some big fuckin' tears."

You panted as you tried to catch your breath, ignoring the tears that tickled down the side of your face. "I'll be good," you whispered. "I promise, I'll be good."

He leaned forward and kissed your lips, you could taste yourself off him. "I'm sure you will, luv. I'm sure you will," he said. "But I am gonna give you some more, alright? Jus' in case." You whimpered pathetically, watching him descend your body one more to press his tongue against your oversensitive clit.

And you cried and moaned and promised you loved him until he finally let up and granted you pity. He kissed up your body again until he reached your lips. "There, there, sweetie," he cooed, moving hair from your face with a smile. "Alright, look at me. Beautiful, luv."

He kissed your cheek and dipped down to your ear, his voice deep and quiet and rumbling in his chest. "Now," he spoke, sending shivers down your spine, "I'm gonna fuck ya, and I want to hear your pretty little moans. How about that? Can you do that?"

You nodded quickly, anything to please him. "Yes, sir," you gasped. "Yes."

"Good," he smiled, straightening his spine again as he pulled himself out of his pants, hard and thick and red. "Right, spread your legs for me."

He set his hand on your thigh, squeezing and pushing it aside to open you up. Still breathless, you yelped as he pulled you a little closer to the edge. He licked his lips, lightly smacking his hand against the wet juncture between your thighs.

When he entered you, you gasped. Your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his cock, thick and throbbing, filled you inch by beautiful inch. "Alfie!" you moaned, reaching up to grasp his shoulders roughly.

When he was fully seated within you, he lingered there for a moment as he let out a heavy sigh. "Beautiful. So tight, luv," he breathed, eyes fluttering shut as a slight ramble fell from his lips. "That's a good girl."

After making you wait too long, he began to move again. His cock slid in and out of you in long, slow strokes as he filled you to the brim. You bit down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathed a heavy sigh.

His grip on your waist tightened as he eased himself in and out of you. A groan rumbled in his chest as he sighed. He was hardly slow or gentle as he rocked in and out of your squeezing cunt. He was paced, although his rough thrusts were not forgiving, and they left you pleading for more. You threw your head back as a stifled moan caught in your throat, and your hands shot up to wrap around his neck to hold him closer.

He pulled your arms away from him, and you whimpered pathetically when his cock slipped out of you. He grabbed you harshly, flipping you over the desk to lay on your stomach as he thrust back into you again. The new angle had completely different sensations rushing through you, and you welcomed them with desperate moans.

Alfie nudged your legs apart, spreading you wide for him as he continued to fuck you, building in speed as his rough thrusts filled you with him. The pleasure echoed off your bones just as your sounds echoed off the walls of the office. Your open mouth was unrestrained with noise of lust and passion.

The arousal was leaking down your legs, painting the insides of your thighs like a canvas, offering a generous lather of paint to the space. His cock spearing into you made the dirtiest sounds—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth fell open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasure tears.

He bent down over your back, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered into your ear at the sound of your whimpers. “Oh, is it too much for you, eh? You can’t take it?” he mocked. You responded with another pathetic moan. “That’s jus’ too bad, innit? You’re gonna have to, treacle.”

He seemed to go rougher after that, holding you close as he fucked into you from behind. You couldn’t control the obscene sounds falling from your lips. It was a mixture of “Alfie, Alfie, Alfie!” and open-mouthed moans that tore from your throat with the rhythm of the snap of his hips.

You were getting so close, driven to insanity by the passionate rock of his cock inside you. Your pussy fluttered as you grew nearer and nearer to your release. You could tell he was going to reach his peak too, with the way his moans become just a little bit louder, his thrusts become just a little bit more erratic.

“Alfie,” you gasped. “Alfie, please. Gonna cum!”

He sniffed, a little preoccupied but completely engrossed in your pleasure. “Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock, luv? You gonna let me cum inside of ya and fill you up with our baby?” he whispered into your ear. A higher pitched moan squeezed out of you then, and he feels you clamp down around him. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Like the idea of being bred by me, eh?”

You spoke between gasping breaths and a quivering smile. “I’m surprised,” a breath, “you haven’t done it already–Ah!” He interrupted you with yet another rough thrust. “Husband, I’m gonna cum.”

He reached around you, his fingers finding your pussy and shifting until he reached your clit. With an expert hand, he rubbed your clit and had you seeing stars. “Smart mouth,” he commented, shaking his head with a soft tut. A knot built in your gut until you couldn’t hold it anymore as your silent moans caught in your throat. “Go on, luv. Cum for me.”

As your orgasm came crashing down on you, it was loud and hard and you felt like you might have blacked out for a couple seconds as your body was overcome with this beautiful intoxication. You screamed his name, gripping the edge of the desk and burying your face in your arms.

Alfie groaned as you clenched around his cock, squeezing harder and harder until he couldn’t hold back anymore as well. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close to him as he seated himself as deep as he could, coming deep within your hot pussy. “Fuck,” he groaned deeply in your ear, his voice a consuming rasp that prolongs your own mind-numbing release.

By the time you were both coming down, your body was limp against the now warm wood of the desk as you laid there, trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure sparking in your muscles. Alfie let out a deep breath and pulled out of you, looking down as the mixture of cum slipped down your thigh from your sopping cunt. He groaned deeply in his throat before finally wrapping his arm around you once more to ease you up.

He sat heavily in his chair, sighing loudly as he pulled you into his lap to rest against his chest. You nuzzled your face in his neck, wrapping your loose arms around him as you caught back up to reality. You both sat in silence as he rubbed gentle circles into your back, whispering soft praises and shushing you gently.

After a beat of silence, he sighed and pursed his lips as he thought to himself. Then he gave in.

“You can get a cat,” he relented. You pulled away from the comfort of his neck, your arms still wrapped around him as your face lit up with elation. He was quick to add his condition, “But if it doesn’t behave, I’ll have Cyril eat it, yeah?”

You gave him a bright smile, one of those looks that reminded him why you were his wife. “Thank you! I love you, Alfie!” you exclaimed, holding him again as you pepper his face in excited kisses.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Alfie Solomons, one of the most dangerous men in London, proudly allowed his wife to cover him in kisses. Alfie Solomons, a Jewish gang leader, preened under the attention of his lover as he held her close to him, cradling her with all the affection in his heart. Alfie Solomons, a man from Camden Town, smiled like a lovesick fool as he and his wife shared one of those “I’d give you the world” kisses before they would depart to finally go home in the late hours of the night to make love again before retiring to bed and beginning another day of business and pleasure.

Peaky Blinders taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x reader smut #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #smut #reader insert #female reader

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mlmxreader · 1 month

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Alfie Solomons is the type to be an absolute teddy bear w his s/o, just completely and utterly soft w them but also not shy from telling them that he loves them; but he's also never gonna be shy abt having banter w them, either, even if it seems "mean" to outsiders, as long as he knows it'll make his s/o laugh he'll say anything.

but Luca Changretta is the type to be all suave and smooth w his s/o, constantly flirting w them and giving them little touches on their neck and arms bc he knows it makes them all flustered; he'd shower them in gifts and lavish clothes, just completely spoiling them whenever he can and wherever he can. but he's also so, so sweet - always whispering sweet nothings to them and kissing them whenever he gets the chance.

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons #luca Changretta x reader #luca changretta x you #luca changretta #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders

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pherelesytsia · 2 years

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Who did this to you? - 5

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing, wounds,

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Faint, scarcely perceptible footsteps resounded throughout the mansion. The world was remote, and the storm had ceased, had travelled across the land, but ruled with an iron fist in her mind. Y/N couldn't find peace, needed a map, a guide to find the trail through the endless labyrinth of greyed memories.

Yellowish shades dimmed the vibrant light of the two lamps in the far corners of the richly decorated room. The walls of wood were silent, did not speak nor chant a forgotten tale of wrath and destruction. Her eyes did not search for the enemy, was safe in the unknown. The heavy curtains touched, forbid curious gazes to fall upon the woman dressed in the tattered and torn garment. The heavy coat caring the smell of alcohol and cigarettes protected her skin painted in wicked colours, deep shades of purple and blue with a hint of greenness, a deep tone of algae swaying in the depths of a raging torrent running wild across the emotionless face of the mountain.

Closing her eyes, Y/N rested her head on the pillow, leaned back, busied herself with her fingers, and played with the hem of the holey fabric covering her frame sparsely. The urge to cover herself, hide to aching wounds, the marks of a fight with the too large coat, at least a dozen of sizes, did not exist. Gazing at the door, she wondered if it was a wicked dream, but steps echoed and Y/N remembered Alfie left to fetch a first aid kit from another room.

Realisation hit her like a wave, a ripple swallowing ships, lonely islands, knew she was safe, and calmness flooded her body and mind. Not a word, not a single prayer, nor a complaint crossed her lips. Memories had fled, failed to overcome the high walls of defence protecting the building, failed to push open the door and shatter the windows.

Floral vines adorned the teapot on the round, dark wooden table. The calmness of his eyes healed the wounds. A friendly, almost encouraging smile graced his lips, partly shielded by the thick, dark beard. The scent of lavender rose and banished the stench of copper lingering in the air into oblivion. Steam was rising from the bowl in his possession. Swiftly, Alfie entered the room and attempted to prevent the warm liquid from spilling over the edge. The dimmed light caressed his features, but fear was beyond the layer of confidence, but Y/N couldn't see it, the fear, agony, and pain.

The hat was missing, revealing tousled hair in the same shade as the freshly trimmed beard. The top buttons of the button-down were undone, like the buttons of the waistcoat. He placed the white ceramic bowl with a golden frame on the table next to the teacup, followed by a bottle of transparent liquid. Alfie didn't push her, didn't ask questions, assumed what had happened, had read the answer her misty eyes carried. He laid the blanket slung around his shoulder on the floor within reach, followed by the first aid kit he had dropped a few times, and dragged the table back. Striding towards the sofa, he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up until the material was above his elbows, accentuating his masculine upper arms. Critically, Y/N eyed him, had heard too much about the ruthless man, but she doubted the accuracy of the unforgettable tales laced in terror, questioned the words, and thought the man was not the feared Alfie Solomons.

Desperately Y/N searched for a way out. Her eyes widened in horror, stared at the man standing right in front of her on the red carpet with the fine black embroidery. His hands were clean, clear of dirt, the marks of a struggle. He dropped to his knees. Flinching she leaned back, pressed herself against the soft material, but she couldn’t escape him. Tears were clouding her vision. He was too close far too close and he placed his hand on her knee, touched her skin in a reassuring gesture, telling her to calm down, not to fear, that everything was alright.

"May I?" Alfie asked.

An answer was needless, superfluous, wouldn't allow Y/N to close her eyes to find a moment of peace with untreated wounds.

"You are safe, Y/N/N. I won't call anyone; you can stay as long as you need to heal but it's a matter of time before your husband will search for you and find you.” he breathed.

Bitterly Y/N laughed, was applying pressure to her aching side, didn’t trust her ears, couldn't believe what the man was saying.

"You foolishly think Thomas is going to set out to find me? Why would he do that?", "He's your husband," Alfie said.

The words sounded plausible, the most obvious thing in the world but not to Y/N. Ashamed, she lowered her gaze and listened to her thoughts, but she couldn’t pronounce the words laying heavy on her heart, unable to say how unhappy she was in the marriage, was longing for love, yearning for someone to let her know she was loved and missed. Alfie wrapped himself in silence, said nothing, watched over the breaking woman, accepted the silence, and moved closer to the edge of the sofa. Wordless the man turned, faced the table, set the ceramic bowl on the floor beside him and dipped a cloth into the warm water.

"I'm going to undress you." the words shattered the silence.

A cold shiver travelled down her spine and shadows formed into faceless creatures, but they all were grinning, laughing, and dancing around the fire feasting on the wood.

"Do you think you can undress? If not, I can help you.” Alfie continued.

She did not answer, couldn't, and pressed her lips into a fine line.

"I wouldn't dare touch you." he clarified.

Faint rivers of crimson escaped the freshly torn open wounds of her lower lip. Self-hatred pulled her into the depths of the sea, hating herself for not being able to speak, for not telling him to finally rip the soaked dress from her skin, free her from her suffering, needed to be naked, didn’t need to be reminded of how weak she was, was a mere woman incapable of defending herself like a boxer facing the opponent in the ring.

"And not because you are the Shelby's wife, but you are a woman and should be treated as one. I will treat your wounds. Afterwards, I will cook you some food and tea. In the meantime, when you eat, I will set up a bedroom. And as I said, you can stay as long as you need." Alfie explained in a calm voice.

Water dripped and darkened the carpet.

“I'll wash the dirt and grime off your body and I have got you a shirt and a pair of trousers,” he added.

Patiently the man waited, remained calm, and clasped his hands in a praying gesture on his lap. Y/N consented, had never exposed herself, and he sensed it. She stiffened under his gentle touch. His fingers were rough, seemed as if he had worked his entire life in the depths of the woodland. Like a doll on a thread, a marionette Y/N rose as Alfie demanded it. Heat rose into her cheeks. The clock was ticking. With a thud, the heavy cloak fell from her shoulders and shaped into a pile next to the dark-coloured sofa. The fabric tore. Coldness feasted on her flesh. He undid the brown buttons of the dress, loosened the belt around her waist, and stepped back. Slowly, as if he feared the answer, his eyes slid over her battered body and almost shyly, as if he had never touched a woman, he freed her arms from the dress. Her breasts and intimate area were covered.

The light was not dim enough to make them unseen, to erase them. Like an eagle circling the fields in search of food, he followed the strange trail across her torso, witnessed wounds worse than discolouration's and huffed angered as his gaze fell on the marks around her calves. Marks coiled around her arms, telling a story, letting him know she was being held against her will, forced to stay. Her hands were maltreated, lightly stained with blood, had tried to defend herself from the voracious hands of men. His warm breath brushed her skin. Narrowing her eyes, she remembered who stood before her, but she did not trust the words resounding in her head like a melody. From his trouser pocket, he took out a hair tie, pushed her hair, framing her face like a heavy iron curtain away, and tied it into a loose ponytail at the back of her head. Wordlessly, Alfie pushed her down onto the sofa and lowered himself in front of Y/N, knelt, and inspected the wounds her body bore. He turned to the table and filled two glasses with the very strong liquid. The stench of alcohol filled her nostrils. Y/N wrinkled her face in contempt and turned away.

"Here drink,” Alfie said.

Brows touched.

"Seriously, it will help you, believe me," he explained.

Hesitantly, Y/N accepted the glass and guided it to her mouth, but before she could put her lips on the glass, she gagged. Disgusted Y/N turned away, had to collect herself, and she gathered strength, and emptied it. Wrinkles deepened. The taste befuddled her senses, filling her mouth and numbing her tongue. Goosebumps spread over her body like an unstoppable wave. Alfie dipped his fingers into the warm water in the white bowl with the golden frame, took out the cloth, wrung it out and carefully washed her right leg, removing the mud glued to her feet.

"Do you want to talk about it?", "You don't have to talk about it, but it will do you good," Alfie interjected, sliding his hand carefully over her leg.

Washing the traces of the fight away, he apologised, raised the cloth as he accidentally brushed across open flesh. Gingerly the cloth glided over her body, swept over her calf, but no lust lingered in his eyes, filled with anger and worry, and the very first thing he planned to do during the early hours of the next day was to figure out who had caused the harm.

"What about your husband?" Alfie asked.

"If he were my loving husband, then I wouldn't lie on your sofa, covered in blood and grime. He would take care of me instead of you." Y/N whispered, not trusting her voice.

The wood worked, creaked, and sang out.

"What are you going to do when he calls you?", "What should I do?" he asked.

Pain welled in her eyes, smiled faintly, remembered the unforgettable, the days when he didn't even dignify her with a glance and the touches cold as the unforgiving north, icy and emotionless.

"Nothing, don't answer the call or say you don't know where I am. I'm sure you'll find a good lie. I can't and don't want to see him." Y/N replied gruffly, couldn't imagine meeting her husband's eyes even in her wildest dreams, knew she would collapse like a house of cards under his stern gaze.

"Why?" Alfie questioned. "If I had a wife, I would search every house, every forest, and not stop until I find her," Alfie replied.

She was speechless, swallowed, but couldn't swallow the ever-growing lump in her throat.

"He doesn't love me. He forgot. I waited. He promised to pick me up, but he wasn't there. Thomas was not there to protect me.", "Do you love him?" he questioned.

Do I love him, Y/N wondered.

"Yes, but he makes it impossible for me to love him. I fell for him when we met. He looked at me differently than the other men who asked my father for my hand in marriage. They all wanted one thing, money, power, wealth, a name many people know, but with him, I had the feeling that he loves me. Me and not the money and all that goes with it, because a Shelby doesn't need even more money. He has everything, money, wealth, all these things a heart desires, and I thought he loved me, but I'm sure he didn't even notice that I am not home, that I disappeared." Y/N breathed.

She was not ashamed of the tears, let them fall.

"And it's only a matter of time before he finds someone else, someone who can give him what I can't, someone who can satisfy his cravings. Bless him with an heir. A good-looking woman worthy to rule at his side over his empire." Y/N couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't force herself to end it.

"Why would I do such a thing?" a dark voice asked.

Water dripped down, slid down the darkened coat. The shirt was soaked. The strands of dark hair, dark as nightfall, stuck to his face. His eyes were bloodshot. How long Thomas had been standing in the doorway, Y/N did not know, but she sensed he had heard everything, all the words, the fears and concerns loud and clear, but she was not ashamed of the words escaping her heart.

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 5 months

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Mooooo ! I love you so much bby 💕 my I request one with Alfie with the touch starved prompts “you never have to earn my affection-not now, not ever” and “I’m never more at peace than when I’m in yours arms”? Thank you lovely❤️❤️

My baby girl!!!!!!! Ugh thank you so much for sending this in. Did my heart ache writing this? Yes. Did my stomach hurt? Also yes. Am I sorry for it? NO. WE DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR EMO HOURS IN THIS HOUSE. Hehehe Anyway I love ya so much I hope you enjoyyyyyy.

100 Follower Celebration: Your Love is Enough

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

There were many perks that came with being Alfie's woman. While there was certainly a good deal of danger lurking around, there was an undeniable air of safety you had due to all the eyes watching. You got access to all the hot goings on around the city. You lived comfortably. And above all, you got to love Alfie Solomons fully and purely and unabashed. There was only one downside really... the talk.

It was no secret that you were significantly younger than Alfie. It was something you and Alfie never shied away from and didn't feel a need to. Regardless of any age difference, you and Alfie understood each other on a cosmic level, a way no one else could. You loved him with your whole heart and soul and Alfie would burn down the world if you asked him to. You were one. And anyone who truly knew you and Alfie knew that this was true love. That this was the type of love and devotion that epics were written about and empires crumbled over. But there were always going to be people who didn't know. Always going to be people who didn't understand.

You were perusing fabric patterns in the shop down the street one early afternoon, looking for the final pattern to add to a quilt you were making for Ollie's soon to be born first child. You delicately touched the cotton blends along an aisle, imagining how it would look along the squares you had already picked, taking mental note as to what was available.

"I just cannot imagine what he sees in her. I mean... she is a child isn't she?"

Your ears perked up to the tone. It was Mrs. Vorsed from down the corner, the one you waved to every morning without even a smile in return. Another voice responded, "You know how men are. They just want a little toy to play house with until they find a wife."

Who on earth could they be talking about?

"Mr. Solomons needs a real woman in his home. My Portia knows what it means to be a lady of the house, and knows her place. I mean that girl he is shacked up with... I can hear her shouts and laughter from down the street! What does she know about keeping a home, much less keeping a man?"

A snicker erupts, "Well I'm sure she won't last long. He'll tire of her eventually when he realizes what he truly needs. Then Portia can swoop right in!"

The cackles fade away with the sharp chops of heavy footed steps. Despite your efforts, the knot in your throat never went down. You lungs refused to take in breath as the words spun in your mind. How could they say those things so confidently? They didn't even know you. They never even stepped foot into the house, how could they know how you keep it? Alfie never said more than a good morning to Mrs. Vorsed. How could they know anything about you or Alfie? Yet their words kept spinning and spooling around in your mind. What if... what if they were right?? What if people saw something that you couldn't see? What if you had deluded yourself into thinking that Alfie was truly happy and in love with you? What if he was unhappy but didn't want to tell you out of duty. It all became too much in your chest, and you left the store without your fabric, but the weight of the world on your chest.

That evening Alfie could not wait to get home to you. Every evening Alfie nearly buzzed at the prospect of coming home to see your face again, and wrap himself around you, getting as close as possible. You made his day better. You made his life brighter and joyful and meaningful. It made all the business and badness worth it. Stepping through the threshold with a press to the mezuzah, Alfie calls out, "Sweet girl! I'm home! You in the kitchen darling?"

He hears you call back and smiles wide, stomach growling hungry for supper and you. Taking off his coat and hat he ambles into the kitchen, watching you stir something magical in the massive soup pot. "My dove ,my angel, my joy, what are you doing? Making food for the Royal Navy are we?"

You turn to him, and he can clearly see that something is wrong. Your lips are quivering and poorly attempting to portray a smile, and your eyes are glassy and red rimmed. He feels a stab in his chest, "Now wait a minute treacle... what's got you crying?"

You wiped your cheek and turned away, "I'm not crying."

With a scoff he grabs your chin gently, turning you to face him, "I thought we didn't lie to each other my sweet. Especially since you're the worst liar since the Garden of Eden. Why are you crying? Come on now confess."

You shrugged as Alfie's hands moved up and down your arms, "It's nothing. Stupid really I shouldn't be crying."

"Nah nah. It ain't stupid if it's got my sweet girl crying like that. Out with it."

The tears kept falling, though you tried to keep an even tone, "I just... I heard some women talking. Mrs. Vorsed and another lady."

Alfie rolled his eyes, "Always a bad sign. C'mon what else."

You sniffled, "And... well... they said that... I wasn't good enough for you. That I didn't know how to be a good woman to you. And that you would be better off with someone else. That you would soon grow tired of me. That I'm not deserving of you, and Portia Vorsed would be a better match for you."

The tears started coming harder, and you couldn't help the shaking of your body. Alfie's stomach dropped, and rage replaced it. Alfie shook your shoulders a bit in his passion, "What the fuck is wrong with them? Treacle, Mrs. Vorsed is the worst gossip in Camden, and doesn't know anything about anything. She hasn't got anything better to do but talk absolute shit. Portia, right? She is the silliest woman in town, she can't even do basic arithmetic because she's too busy being an idiot. I mean fuck me treacle I can barely say good morning to Mrs. Vorsed without getting proper fucking agitated!"

Alfie kissed your forehead and brought you to his chest, "YOU are the one for me. I don't give a shit what Mrs. Vorsed or what any other decrepit woman or idiot man thinks. You are my life. You are my stars and my moon and my sun alright? You don't have to be 'good enough' for me. Fuck you just are. You never have to earn my love. You've always had it. Even before I knew you my old and brittle heart was yours. You got that?"

You nodded, the tears pooling in his shirt. Alfie pulled you away from him to look into your eyes. "And treacle I don't even think Mrs. Vorsed can see more than a meter in front of her so she probably has no clue who she is talking about."

You laughed despite the tears and Alfie grinned. All he wanted to do every day was to make you smile. He was convinced that was what he was put on this earth to do. You put your hand to his face, feeling him lean into the warmth of your palm. "I just want to love you and care for you like you do me. I just worry that I don't do enough sometimes."

He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingertips, "Ah my sweet. I'm never more at peace than when I'm in your arms. I'm never more at home than when you're next to me. The whole business could go to shit and I'd still be the richest man in the world because I have the greatest treasure in you. And I mean that my love. You believe your old man right?"

You nod. The lump in your throat finally dissapated and the weight melted away. There was truly no love like Alfie's and yours. People could talk all they want. People could make any assumptions they wanted. That didn't change what was true. And what was true was that you and Alfie belonged to each other and would for all of eternity.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #100 follower celebration

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warnersister · 1 month

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By the Book of Leviticus

Alfie Solomons x Jewish!reader

->Alfie while his wife is practicing niddah

niddah - “Biblically based in the Torah, these laws, also referred to as niddah, have developed into an intricate and detailed set of laws that prevent a menstruating woman from having sexual relations with her husband both during her menstrual cycle and for a period of seven 'white days' following”

Click here for the request

You and Alfie slept in separate beds pushed together to make one. Alfie wasn’t fussed but it was as per your request, and he’d cut his own ear off and eat it if you merely asked. Two days before your monthly practise begins, you would push the two adjust slightly, so the two mattresses were no longer touching and hence; no longer any risk of succumbing to any late-night desperations that were so easily achievable.

Alfie strolled into the house with Cyril, hearing scuffling and scraping upstairs and quirking an eyebrow; eyes flicking over to the calendar and there it was: clearly marked in red pen ‘two days’, followed by five days scribbled out in the same red, then several crossed neatly with a pencil. Alfie hummed as his lips kissed his teeth with a tut. That’s why you’d been a bit agitated the past few days.

While practicing Jewish religions, Alfie was a lawless man who only used to turn to God at his darkest hour, breaking down to his Rabbi and shaking when that recent job was just that tad too delicate. Until he met you. Sincere, pure, religion. You were complete oxymorons of each other. Hot ice: shivering in the summer. You completely juxtaposed Alfie and it made him feel whole: holy, even. And it didn’t take long for your religious ways to start rubbing off on him. You weren’t completely blind sighted by the ways of God, but you were raised to practise in such ways and that was what you were going to do.

Alfie never argued when it came to judaism. You tell him what you’re up too, he steps back and lets you do what you need to do. When you’d first started seeing each other, he’d invited you back home after a lovely meal by the docks. You’d sheepishly agree and linked arms with the larger man, allowing yourself to take some of his weight to ease the ever growing pain of his sciatica.

When nearing his house he’d cheekily took his arm you were holding and wrapped it around your waist, leaning down to kiss you to which you instinctively lurched back in response. Alfie pulled away, hurt clearly evident in his eyes but you were quick to speak. “I practise being a niddah, Alf.” You say quickly and his eyes softened in understanding. “I’m sorry I should’ve told you sooner and god do I want to kiss you but I can’t, and” he stopped you by planting a kiss on the top of your head and smiling down to you. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, treacle. I understand. We’ll do everything or nothing when you’re ready.”

And after two years, a marriage certificate and abiding in the same home, he’d become accustomed to the monthly abstinence. Alfie let a tired Cyril march over to his bed and lazily plop down, eyes drooping as he silently moaned at Alfie for moving him. Alfie removed his coat, his shoes and his hat before moving up the stairs to you.

He leant against the doorframe as you’d victoriously placed the bed where it reiteratively sat every month, resting your hands on your hips to admire the handiwork you’d done without the assistance of your big strong Alfie who usually insisted on rolling up his sleeves and shifting it for you.

“See you don’t need me then, do ya treacle? Don’t need your old Alfie. Just an old bag in the wind, hmm?” He grunted, trying to seem unimpressed but couldn’t surprise the smile tugging at his lips when you pivoted to meet him, hurrying over and kissing him sweetly. “I’ll always need you, Alfie.” He smiled down at you. “Has it started yet?” He asked, head motioning over to your bed. You shook your head in response. “Not yet, tomorrow or the day after.” “Great” Alfie threw you over his shoulder and you yelped in surprise, carrying you over to the best and climbing on top of you. “Can have you one last time.” “What happened to the sciatica?” You teased, and he shook his head, already working on the zip of your skirt. “Hush now, darlin”

He loved making love to you before the practise of niddah, enough so you’d remember and carry a loving lisp until the day after it had finished so he was able to do it all over again. During niddah however, Alfie was completely respectful. Doing minimal, yet lovable touches reminding you he was still there. He’d make you breakfast and kiss the top of your head, hugging you close. He’d sit before bed and brush your hair gently. Regardless of his sciatica, he’d carry you through the threshold of the bedroom and to your own bed and tuck you in, telling you “a woman working as hard as yourself right now shouldn’t lift a finger.”

Sure, he’d get antsy at some point. But he’d never tell you that, instead humming a song to you and swaying you gently as he gritted his jaw and glare into the calendar, counting the days which seemed to prologue. But Alfie wouldn’t change it for the world.

And on that evening, when he’d walk back in with Cyril - cursing under his breath as a downpour had caught them by surprise half way. Mood dampened until he heard the all familiar screeching up stairs, beds reconnecting and he smiled, barely able to get his shoes and boots off and adrenaline easing the sciatic pain for a moment, half of his clothes off by the time he got up the stairs. Rushing into the bedroom, and pushing you gently but meaningfully onto the bed as you’d giggle as he’d devour you, a man starved.

Yeah, Alfie didn’t mind this life at all.

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justrainandcoffee · 2 months

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The one with Alfie owning an erotic bakery shop.

Today I thought about it and how I failed as Alfie and Rosie shipper (and creator) by not giving them an erotic bakery shop 🤣. Now they have one.

I didn't name her, you can imagine this as reader if you want.

Just a blurb.

For obvious reasons the actual moodboard is beneath the cut:

"I think you misspelled 'Happiness'" his wife said, unable to hide her smile.

"Nah, it's perfectly written, sweetheart."

"You know that our girl can't see this, right? Because you are going to explain her that."

"Fuckin' 'ell, love. The girl won't see my art. Want to see my last creation?"

"I'm afraid, but go ahead."

She followed his husband to the back of their bakery and saw him opening a cupboard. He put a cake in front of her.

"Is that.. Is this your..? You baked a cake using you cock as reference?"

"Ya recognise it, mmh? Well, yeah. It's my fucking bakery. And I'm proud of what God gave me. I sent one to Tommy."

"You sent one to Tommy?!"

"A dick for a dick."

"Oh my god, Alfie..." Then she looked at him "Can I taste the cock?"

"The cake or the actual one?"

"Your choice."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x ofc #tom hardy #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x oc #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you

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charliehoennam · 2 months

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A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request. Subtle reminder that my ask open again! Tried my best to sum it up, hope you enjoy <3

Summary: Reader's a pub owner and fianceè to The Alfie Solomons. Turns out she's a bit more than just that.

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warnings: Language, Adopted!reader, not proof-read, I think that's it??

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Most people would have been nervous if Alfie Solomons strolled on into their area of business without any notice.

Everywhere he went, his most trusted and strongest lackies followed behind for protection. They were intimidating on their own, but Alfie's dominant presence was enough to make anyone mentally retrace their days, wondering if they'd made their weekly payment for protection or if they'd gotten in trouble with any of Alfie's clan.

You, on the other hand, were not like the others. You remained calm, cool and collected the minute he wandered into your pub.

Despite it being young to the busy street and small in comparison to the neighboring establishments, you had heard many things about Alfie. Only rumors, however, mostly from your drunk clients at the Glass & Barrel.

Some would argue that he was full of himself. Others would make remarks on how he was a form of savior with the jobs he'd given them. A few despised him with all their might for the beating he'd ordered onto them. Judging by what you knew of these specific clients, you knew it hadn't been for nothing.

It was early morning when you hear the doorbell chime. You could hear him mumble on as he looked around at the pub, but couldn't quite make out what he said.

You knew right away who he was. The hat and the cane were dead giveaways, but it was his demeanor that made it clear. And what he did for a living did not sway you in the slightest.

You had expected his visit for a while. It was just a matter of time that he showed up to explain how his method of security works. It was simple. You pay and his boys protect. Extra pay meant he'd place a strong lad in the pub to chase away any unwelcome, rowdy guests.

The first thing Alfie noticed about you when he walked in and sat down at the bar was how unfazed you seemed. He knew at the moment that you were a fearless woman and he admired that.

He assumed you had to be that way, given the dubious characters that milked the bottles from your shelves and the barrels in the basement.

However, there was still a sweetness in you that teased his curiosity. It made him yearn for a woman in such a foreign way that he hadn't felt since he was a young lad.

Since then, his visits became more and more often until you realized he was stopping by about two or three times a week. The funniest thing about his visits was that he never drank anything other than water. It was quite comical.

He enjoyed charming his way into your heart. Every visit consisted of laughter, taste-tests of his finest brews, playful flirting and him trying to convince you to go out on a date with him.

You resisted. Alfie knew that you wouldn't be easy. He could barely imagine just how many drunken fellas have tried their luck with you. The gun you hid under the bar wasn't for nothing.

In fact, your reservation made you all the more special.

He respected your pace and, every time you turned down his invitations, he didn't press you.

"I respect that, love. But a man's gotta try, right? Maybe one day I'll get lucky and you'll say yes."

And he was right. One day, he did get lucky indeed and you finally accepted one of his relentless invitations. However, you requested that it'd be during the day.

You told him it was because the pub made more money at night, but really, you didn't want to give off the impression that you'd be repaying him with sexual favors.

Not that you didn't want to. Alfie's ruggedness was just one of the many features that you admired. You were more than attracted to him, but you weren't the type to sleep with someone so early on.

It was an unspoken boundary, but Alfie understood you better than you could ever imagine. He didn't need to hear you say it and he never forced you or questioned you about it. Truth is he was willing to wait as long as he needed to because he knew it'd be worth the wait. Because something told him that you would be the one.

The chemistry between you and Alfie was naturally cohesive. He cherished every moment he got to spend with you. Every laugh and smile he teased out of you were trophies to him.

Your relationship grew into mutual petting and necking often stolen in secret at the opera, in the corners of fancy restaurants or in the convenient shadows at the pictures. It gradually grew to the point where you finally felt comfortable enough to invite him to spend the night with you.

Alfie was right. It was definitely worth the wait.

He made sure to take it slow as to burn every single second and touch of into his memory. He wanted to make it about you and your pleasure.

Every kiss of his lips burned into your skin. His beard scratched your soft flesh of your as his kisses trailed over your body. His greedy hands pulled and squeezed you tightly, aching to meld your bodies to become one.

He couldn't get enough of you and you couldn't bare to part from him. The softness of his hair when your fingers raked through it, his hairy chest brushing against your breasts and then your back, the moans and groans vibrating from the depths of his core. It was enough to have you addicted to him.

That night with you was unlike any night he'd ever spent with any other woman. There was meaning to this act, deep meaning. You were the woman he loved, the one he hoped to marry. You were the woman that had given him hope to become a father and inspired him to be a better man. Despite being a hardworking man, he felt the lost desire to have a home to return to. Suddenly, Alfie had hope for a future in which he wasn't alone.

Throughout the time he'd gotten to know you, he noticed how you always seemed to stray away when the topic shifted to your family. You didn't lie about them. You told him just enough to satiate to his curiosity that was entirely about your adoptive parents.

The truth was that you barely knew your biological family. You knew who they were - your loving adoptive parents had always been honest with you about your origins - and that you were indeed one of the legendary Shelbys of Birmingham.

You hadn't thought about them for a long time until your now-fiance Alfie was meeting with Tommy Shelby at the distillery.

At first glance, you didn't know who was sitting across from Alfie in his office until Ollie told you and asked you to wait.

You stood outside of the office, away from Alfie's sight. It was clear Tommy was in rough shape. You'd heard about the beat down; you were amazed to see him still walking.

If he recognized you, he didn't make it obvious. He only saw you on his way out of Alfie's office, but he simply walked past you and left the distillery without looking back.

An emptiness hollowed you inside after he left. You wondered if he knew who you were. You wondered if anything would've changed if you had told him. After all these years, you doubted he'd even remember he had a little sister younger than Ada. Granted he was older than you - you yourself didn't remember anything from that time - there was a small part inside you that had hoped he'd remembered, but you had finally been answered.

It'd been a couple of days since you saw Tommy at the distillery. Although it hurt a bit to know he hadn't remembered you, you accepted fate as it was and felt like you could finally put it behind you as if you had finally buried the past.

Until the devil himself walked into the Glass & Barrel, announcing his arrival with the doorbell chime. He paused for a moment and let his eyes scan the pub.

It was early in the morning with only a couple of your regulars: veterans of the war drinking away their sorrows, and Bubba: the large bouncer Alfie insisted to keep inside the pub.

You froze as you watched Tommy take a cigarette before sliding it across his lips to wet the bud. From the corner of your eye, you noticed how Bubba looked at him and sat up alert, instantly recognizing him.

Bubba was a tall man who had gained his nickname for seeming common and unthreatening. You'd seen him in action plenty of times dealing with the rowdy clients to know he was anything but. He could blend into the crowd just as easily as he could fend off four men at once. Bubba always loved a good fight.

You nodded at him to let him know it was alright. He opened his newspaper again, but his eyes stayed locked on Tommy from the far corner.

You treated Tommy as you would treat any customer and offered him a drink.

"Whisky, please," he answered as he sat in front of you at the bar.

"Brown or white?"

"Brown" he nodded watching you move behind the bar. "This place yours?"

"It is, " you answered setting a glass in front of him to pour his drink.

"Nice place... Decorate it yourself?"

"I did."

He nodded and a small sip of his drink.

"You grew up 'round here?"

"Around London, yeah. Moved a bit here and there, but always stayed in London."

"You know, I once had a little sister. She was taken away early from us. My poor mum, she did her best to raise us. We were a bit of a handful. Six in total... Last I heard about her is that she lives in London."

Tommy cradled the glass in his hand and admired the brown liquid, but he could feel your eyes burning through him.

You froze as the realization washed over you. It was no coincidence that he wandered into your pub. It was entirely intentionally.

"Runs her own pub. Seems like that tends to run in the family," he paused and eyed you with a steely steady gaze, as if he could see right through you. "Does he know?"

Tommy felt like he already knew the answer. Alfie would have most likely brought it up during their first meeting if he knew.

"No. I haven't told him. I don't feel it's necessary to."

"I can respect that. But it doesn't change the fact that you're still family."

"With all due respect, Mr. Shelby, I have a family."

"I'm just saying, that's all. If you ever need a hand, you know where to find us."

You didnt bother replying since he was quick to stand, snuffing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar.

He stopped just before the door to set his cap on his head before glancing at you one more time on his way out.

You felt Bubba's eyes boring a hole into you so you quickly moved about, getting back to work. There was no doubt he'd be telling Alfie about this little visit. Tommy's a wise man; Bubba knew his visit was no coincidence despite having not been able to hear your conversation.

The truth would have to come out.

Once Eddie arrived to take over the night shift, you made your way a few streets over to the home you and Alfie shared.

Unlocking the door, you walked inside to hang your coat up. But from the corner of your eyes, you could a familiar shadow standing by the fireplace.

Alfie was never home this early. The lack of acknowledgement to your arrival made you certain something was up.

"Alfie. You're home early," you smiled walking towards him.

"Yeah, I am. I had an urgent matter to tend to myself."

"I see..." you nodded as you slowly drifted over towards him over the wooden floor that now felt like eggshells. Had Bubba told him about Tommy's visit? Had word spread about your relation?

"I heard tommy Shelby went to see you today... Care to tell me what that was about?"

"Before I tell you, Alf, there's something you should know."

As he lifted his gaze from the warm fire, his eyes carried the same softness he heard in your voice.

"I never told you this because I never thought it'd be relevant. But the truth is that I was adopted when I was a child... From Birmingham. I was 12 when my parents told me I'd been a Shelby."

You paused, hoping for some sort of reaction from Alfie, but there was nothing that could hint at his reaction.

"I didn't even who they were until that day I went your office. To be quite honest, I didn't even think any of them remembered me. That's why he came to the Glass & Barrel, to tell me he knew it was me."

Unbeknownst to you, Alfie already knew the truth. There was a doubt in the back of his mind that questioned - if you did in fact know your biological family - where your allegiance would lay and, at this point, it was only growing within.

His doubt consumed him, slowly but surely, over the following days. Everything had changed.

You first noticed that Alfie started missing dinner. After you moved in together, he was always home for dinner.

The mornings you once used to treasure due to the breakfast you shared with him were shared only with the presence of Cyril.

Gone before you woke up and home after you'd fallen asleep.

This night, you decided you were not going to bed. Tonight would be the night you confronted him.

The exhaustion of the day was beginning to set in. Your eyes felt heavy as you struggled to read your book, attempting to keep yourself awake.

Cyril, whose head was resting on your lap to be petted, snored peacefully. Blissfully unaware of your brewing angst.

Adrenaline quickly chased away and drowsiness you felt the minute you heard Alfie's car outside. It was now or never.

You waited for him to unlock the door and hang his coat up along with with his hat, still seated on the couch.

Alfie noticed the living room light on as he walked towards it and spotted you on the couch.

"Bit late, innit love? Should be in bed."

"Why are you avoiding me, Alfie?"

"No one's avoiding you," his foot was already on the first step of the stairs. Your anger quickly turned to tears as he proved you right.

"Then stay down here and face me, damn it."

Your hands trembled as you marched towards the stairs. Alfie stopped halfway up them when he turned to face you.

"I did not choose this, Alfie. I did not ask you be a Shelby. I did not choose the family I was born into. But if there's one thing I did choose was you."

Silences lingered heavily. His blue eyes stared down his nose at you. Your chest rose and fell with the adrenaline and flood of emotions coursing through you. As frustrated as you were, you didn't want to hate him. You couldn't if you tried.

Alfie hadn't thought about how his attitude would have affected you. He needed time to think. He trusted you blindly, but not knowing if your allegiance could change paralyzed him.

He watched how deeply emotional you were about his absence and realized that - the same way you chose to leave your biological family in the past despite knowing who they were - he needed to make a choice too.

He walked down the stairs until he stood before you.

"You're right, love," he nodded gazing into your tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry, yeah?"

His palm met your cheeks as he cradled your face in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you really think I would betray you, Alf?"

Your hands wrapped lightly around his wrists.

"For a moment, I wasn't sure if I'm not honest. Fuck, love. You gotta see from my side, yeah? Just wasn't expecting the love of my life, the apple of my eye, to be a Shelby. And that you knew."

"I didn't it mattered, Alf. I'm no Shelby. This is where my family is. In this house, here with you. I'm a soon-to-be Solomons."

"Right, you fucking are," he whispered wiping an escaping tear from your cheek.

"I choose you, Alfie. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, love. C'mere," his arms opened and welcomes you into his embrace. "I choose you too."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons x f!reader #tom hardy #peaky blinders

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fandom-puff · 1 month

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Hi! Congrats on 10k!! Wondering if it would be alright to request 📚 for Alfie Solomons with the prompt: "thought I'd never see you again". Thanks and congrats again.

Thank you so so much!! I hope you enjoy 🥹

Warnings: reference to violence

The front door slammed shut and Cyril let out a booming bark, before the gruff voice of Alfie soothed him. You barrelled through to the hallway, barely seeing Alfie’s eyes crinkling into a smile before you were in his arms, your arms wrapped around his neck.

Poor man nearly fell down, but your Alfie was always firm and steady beneath you. “I’m here love,” he murmured into your hair, his lips pressing against your head.

“Hate when you’re gone for so long,” you whispered, hiding your face. Alfie let out a low grumble of agreement.

“And you know I hate being away from you for so long too, Sweet, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Thought I’d never see you again, I hate it when you go to Birmingham,”

Alfie smiled, rubbing your back. “It is a shithole,” he agreed. “But no brummie or blinder will do me in love,” he tipped your face up to look into your eyes. “Or they’d have Mrs Solomons to answer to, hm?”

#10k celebration #fandom-puff’s 10k celebration #10k blurbs #10k baby blurbs #alfie solomons x reader #Alfie Solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x you

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dreamlandcreations · 8 months

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Imagine Tommy coming to you all bloody after meeting with Alfie

Imagine Tommy coming to you all bloody after meeting with Alfie who you had a secret relationship with for several months now.

"What did you do?!" you scream at him as you think the worst had happened.

It takes a moment for it to click all together for him. Your frequent visits to Ada. The way you always asked more when he was dealing with the Jew.

"How..." he stops, even as dismayed as he is Tommy knows if he continued the 'how could you' you might walk out the door and he'd never see you again. So he goes with a quiet and calm, "How long?"

You are stunned for a second but you don't relent, even when it's clear you feel guilty. "Please," you beg with a trembling voice and tears in your eyes, "tell me you didn't..."

His brave little sister, he thinks, can't say the words and he knows it has to have been going on for a while. Tommy takes mercy on you and says, "It's not his blood, Alfie is fine."

You let out a stuttering breath of relief and hug him then, not caring for the blood anymore, and you cry as he tells you what he found out and asks for your help for the first time in your life.

#alfie solomons x shelby!reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons #my stuff #my fics

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darklydeliciousdesires · 11 months

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Dirty Bliss - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

Here we are then, everyone. The first winning submission from my new Tell me your Fantasy feature is here, this from @liliac-dreamer, their fantasy as follows -

Now, we all know the mad baker gives massive public-place-sex vibes, BUT! To me he mostly gives off possessive/territorial vibes, so... Is there any way you can mix these two things together? (maybe one of the people he's dealing with tries to get too close and he NEEDS to show you're already spoken for? Maybe he let's them overhear something? 😉 )

I hope this lives up to your little fantasy, darling! :)

Words - 1,666

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You can always feel when Alfie is on edge. It isn’t just the fact that his muscles stiffen like lead, or that his jaw clenches and he begins grinding his teeth. His entire being seems to seethe with palpable annoyance, just like he is now, sitting next to you within the private box at the Royal Opera House, tension coursing through him. There’s a very specific reason why, too, why he cannot enjoy Aida, one of his favourite operas.

Albert Ross is that reason.

The business associate, a fellow figurehead within the organised crime world, has never made a secret of his desire for you, no matter how perilous such might be, to openly covet another dangerous man’s wife. Especially when that man is Alfie Solomons.

“He’s fuckin’ undressing you with his bleedin’ eyes,” he hisses in your ear, the sound of back teeth grinding in fury audible as his eyes dart between the stage and Albert.

Resting a calming hand to his thigh, you stroke, hoping to settle him. “He’s only looking, love,” you remind him. “I’m not about to go dive on him, you know that. And he’d be even more of a stupid prick than we know he already is if he tried anything with me.”

Alfie rumbles a quiet laugh, his hand covering yours. “Ain’t that the truth, treacle.”

It seems this notion is entirely negatable, though, you discover after excusing yourself to go and powder your nose, wanting to ensure that your visage is indeed perfect. The toilets up there for the private box guests are a single room with one lavatory, able to be locked from the main entrance door rather than housing multiple sectioned cubicles, but since you are only there to quickly check your face, you do not bother clicking said lock.

About ten seconds after placing your compact back into your small, beaded clutch, you wish that you had.

“Evening, you lovely little filly.”

Turning to Albert, you lift your chin, not wanting the small flare of nerves you felt within grow to show upon your face. “Mr Ross.” Straightening, you push your chest forward, willing yourself to radiate confidence and nonchalance over his intrusion. “This is a ladies’ only bathroom. I shall have to ask you to leave.”

Albert sucks a breath over his teeth, making a show of pondering your words. “I know, Mrs Solomons. It is, however, the only place I could get you alone, to reveal to you my intentions.”

“I care not for them, excuse me.” Stepping forward, you swerve around him, the man catching your arm in a firm grip.

“Not so fast.”

Snatching your arm back, he hangs onto you. “Get your fucking hand off me!”

“No,” he tells you firmly, closing the space between you, his eyes radiating entertainment at your biting reaction to his advances. “Won’t be doing that, not until I’ve had a piece of you, you pretty little thing.”

“Now, now, old son,” you hear Alfie speak, pushing open the door. Horror fills Albert’s eyes immediately. You aren’t the only one who wishes they’d locked it behind them on entry to the facilities, something Alfie does after stepping in. “You heard the lady. Get your fucking hand off her.”

His words are delivered quietly, but with all the frost of an arctic chill, Albert releasing you from his grip immediately, his mouth floundering. “Alfie, mate. It isn’t what it looks like.”

His eyes widen as he stands at your side, his chest barrelling. “Oh, do forgive me for not having my glasses on, because what it looked like, yeah. Is you putting your dirty fucking hands on my wife. And what it sounded like, right, was you telling her you wouldn’t remove ‘em until you got a piece of her!” Turning to you, he amps up the slight theatrics of his retort. “Apparently, I need an ear trumpet as well as a new pair of specs, my darlin’.”

“Alfie, please, I...”

“No!” he bellows, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun. “You’ve said quite enough for tonight, sunshine. Now, what you’re gonna do next, yeah, is fucking stand there against them sinks, and watch me get a piece of what you wanted.” His face falls, Alfie chuckling. “Oh yeah, that’s right, Albert. Ain’t nobody who teaches a fuckin’ lesson like me.”

The blaze of arousal you feel melts down your spine, puddling between your legs, turning to kiss Alfie’s neck, his soft beard tickling against your nose. “Yeah, take your dress off, love. I want him to get a full view of that’s mine and mine alone.” He reaches with his free hand to assist, lowering the zip while you smirk at Albert, arousal radiating from your every pore.

To fuck in front of someone else has always been somewhat of a turn on for you, but to do it before a man who has presented himself as an adversary, while your husband keeps him there at gunpoint, well. It is not your typical Friday night, that’s for certain. Once your gown is removed, you take it to hang upon a brass peg mounted onto the tiles, Alfie moving to close the wooden lid upon the toilet, seating himself, arm still raised, his pistol pointed at Albert.

Crouching before him, your smile widens, Alfie’s eyes flitting to yours for a second, grinning. “This is gonna be a good time, treacle. A right memorable trip to the opera.” Unzipping his trousers, you pull his rapidly thickening cock free, taking him into your mouth, your lips gliding down the thick, vein ridged shaft. “Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he encourages, his free hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder. “That’s it, my darlin’, fuck!”

You can only imagine the look upon Albert’s face at being forced to watch, hearing Alfie chuckling softly with amusement between his gruff grunts, your mouth working him, leaving little trails of red from your lipstick all over his flushed cock, precum wetting your tongue as you moan around the thick of him. You work him so well, you can feel his thighs tremble, his cock twitching a little in your throat, Alfie reaching to gently grasp your jaw.

“More of that later, my love,” he speaks, winking at you. “Don’t wanna spend myself before Albert here gets to watch the main act.” Standing up, he pushes your hip in indication he wants you to turn, facing Albert, his face set in a mixture of arousal and chagrin, while you take Alfie’s cock and guide him to your glistening apex, sinking down with a soft sigh.

“Mmmm, there’s no better cock in the world than yours,” you hum, turning to kiss him, all smouldering embers as you begin to bounce upon him.

“Yeah, look at that, Albert,” Alfie moans, his arm tightening around you, hand then reaching to grasp your breasts in turn. “Look how beautiful she looks split around a great, big cock. And you were hoping it’d be yours. Nah, son. Not tonight, and not with my missus.”

The sight of someone watching has thrill meeting fire, the heat misting, biting pleasure warming your veins as you chuckle, Albert’s face reddening more.

“I think he likes it,” you purr in tease, turning to run your tongue up Alfie’s cheek, your husband beginning to move beneath you, doing an excellent job of bouncing you upon his long, girthy cock.

“And who wouldn’t like watching a woman as fuckin’ sublime as you getting fucked, eh, my sweetheart? He’s just sour that it ain’t him doing the fucking though, ain’t you, Al?” The man remains quiet, looking at the floor. “Oi! Chin up and answer me, you cunt!”

“Yes, Alfie. I am.”

“Yeah,” Alfie chuckles, panting as he kisses your shoulder, “bit of truth never hurt no one, did it? Except maybe you and your pride. As it should.” He continues to laugh, his tongue touring your throat, gun still primed as you circle your hips on him, your walls fluttering as the sound of your sex fills the room, the wet squelch of him cutting into you deeply, your flesh smacking together. “God, fucking ‘ell, my love. You bloody don’t half know how to ride a cock. Yeah, fuck, that’s it.”

His encouragement spurs you on, your eyes never leaving Albert’s, watching the humiliation dance in his irises, your mouth dropping open as you feel Alfie’s fingers reach to begin rubbing your clit, his lips peppering kisses against your spine.

“Mmm, fuck, darlin’,” he pants. “Let’s get you comin’ hard all over my cock, yeah?”

The tempest of fervid heat begins to wind within you, coiling hard, the pleasure rolling and coursing as you pant, his fingers rubbing at your bud tightly, the press firm as he strokes your slick, his teeth sharp at your shoulder.

“Fuck!” you cry, breathless as it catches you, wailing ferally as he tips you into the glittering abyss of your release, Alfie staccato beneath you as his cock twitches and then fills you with thick ribbons of cum, everything that was frenzied beginning to slow, catching your breath.

“Well, Albert,” he begins, panting hard. “I hope that taught you a thing or two over just what the fuck I will and won’t tolerate. Now, if I ever see you in my neck of the woods again, the belly of the Thames will get what my dogs don’t finish from that festering bag of bones. You fuckin’ understand, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, get the fuck out.” Albert tears a path from the room, and you get up quickly to go and re-lock the door, save anyone else coming in and witnessing your near nudity, snickering into your evening glove covered hand.

“I think I enjoyed that,” you laugh, Alfie pulling himself back into his trousers as he stands.

“I know you did, you mucky mare,” he chuckles with affection. “Had you wailing louder than the bird out there on the stage, didn’t I?”

Yes. He most certainly did.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x female reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut #tom hardy x female reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #ddd tell me your fantasy feature

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