#tommy conlon oneshot

[mlmxreader]

Never Finished, Never Started | Tommy Conlon x gn!reader (🍋)

Anonymous asked: Tommy Conlon: Hello, hello! I hope you're doing good 🖤. May I please ask for a little something using the following prompts for my sweet baby Tommy Conlon X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "It's not much, but it's… I'm sorry." Thank you so very much 🖤! 🐍anon

summary: Tommy comes home at the worst possible time, but it isn't all that bad.

tws: masturbation, talk of sex toys, sexual fantasies, swearing

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Tommy was worried when he walked through the front door, the sounds of grunts and the bed squeaking hitting his ear, he assumed something terrible was happening as he dumped his workout bag by the door and rushed towards the shared bedroom; his eyes wide and his chest heaving, he nearly tripped over his own feet as he barged into the room.

Panting heavily as he took in the sight before him. You, sprawled out on the bed with your shorts at your ankles and your shirt pulled up to expose your chest, a thin sheet of sweat across your skin, he could see your hand hard at work pleasing yourself, and as he stood there frozen, he was only pulled back to reality by the name leaving your lips. 

“Tommy… fuck, fuck, Tommy!”

He clenched his jaw, the worry leaving him and becoming replaced by something else as he watched you closely; he cleared his throat eventually, grabbing your attention. Guilt immediately washed over him when you yelped and pulled your hand away from yourself, fumbling to cover your body with the blanket.

He hung his head and turned around, cursing himself as he chewed at his bottom lip until it bled. He only turned around once you told him you were decent, and although he was blushing furiously, he attempted to put on a brave face. It wasn’t like Tommy had expected you to never do such a thing, it wasn’t like he didn’t know that people had certain needs - it was more the fact that you had been calling his name.

He was… he was flattered, he was shocked, he was pleased, he was surprised all at once. He wasn’t really sure what to do about it. Tommy was, in the best way possible, completely, utterly stunned.

“It’s not much, but it’s… I’m sorry,” he said quietly, trying to avoid your gaze. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You just about managed to catch your breath, all sweaty palms and heart pounding like you had been caught doing the worst thing imaginable. “Tommy, I- shit.”

“I, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck as he shrugged. “I’m gonna get coffee… you want one?”

You nodded. “Please.”

He turned on his heel, practically running out of the room. He hoped the kitchen counter would disguise how hard he was, he hoped that it would go down by the time he finished making coffee; but he was aching, his tip pressing against the thick fabric of his jeans through his thin boxers. Every step was torture.

His hands shook as he prepared the coffee, wondering if he was really about to ruin everything by telling you the truth; that he had done the same thing countless times, imagining you riding him. Your hands on  his chest, calling his name as he pounded up into your ass. Fuck, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, only making his ache worse and worse.

His mind kept drifting, and he was hating it more with every passing second until you caught his attention. It was common for you to wear his hoodies, but paired with his boxers as well?

Fuck.

He bit back the urge to whimper.

“I, uhm…” you shook your head. “I’m… y’know… I, uh, I thought I was alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy murmured. “I should’ve knocked…”

“At least now I don’t have to admit I’m attracted to you,” you joked weakly, immediately regretting it when he glared at you. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s…” he swallowed thickly as he shrugged. “I’ve done the same.”

You seemed to brighten up. “You have?”

He nodded. “A lot…”

“Well…” you moved around the counter, your eyes falling on his tented jeans as you smiled. “I take it you enjoyed the show, Tommy?”

His breath hitched in his throat as he nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

You got closer, pressing yourself against the nearest counter as your eyes snapped up to meet his. “I think we should take care of it.”

Tommy let out a soft sigh, placing his hands either side of you as he trapped you between his body and the counter. “What do you mean?”

“I never got the chance to finish,” you whispered, hands resting on his belt as you bit at your lip for a second. “You never got the chance to start. Seems a little unfair.”

He hummed, slipping his hand beneath the boxers so he could grab your ass. “You really wanna do this?”

Your hips bucked, a soft breath falling from your open mouth as you nodded. “I’m tired of fantasising, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, slipping his finger between your cheeks and humming when he felt something wet against his skin. “You’re already lubed up?”

“I keep a little helper in the shoebox under the bed,” you admitted. “I was gonna use him once I was done playing.”

“I don’t think you’ll need him anymore,” Tommy growled, pressing his hips against yours just so you could feel how hard he was. “How many times did you think of me when you used him?”

You shrugged, slowly becoming breathless as you clung onto him. “Every time.”

“Shit…” he breathed out, withdrawing his hand from you for a second so he could unclasp his belt. “Every time?”

“Every time,” you agreed. “I’ve always wanted you, Tommy. Always… but now I fucking need you, I need you so fucking badly right now, don’t make me beg.”

Tommy nodded, swallowing thickly as he completely took his hands from you, clearing his throat. “Just one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Is it just friends?” He asked quietly. “Or something more?”

“I’d want something more,” you confessed, starting to ache from the need biting into you. “But it’s your decision.”

“So it’s something more,” he breathed out, nodding. “Fuck… I can’t, uh, I can’t… can’t talk about serious shit now.”

“Neither can I,” you laughed softly. “You wanna fuck and then talk?”

“Fuck then talk,” Tommy agreed, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the bedroom. “Like you said - you never got the chance to finish, I never got the chance to start.”

#mlem writes #tommy conlon fanfiction #tommy conlon fanfic #tommy conlon oneshot #tommy conlon one shot #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon x you #tommy conlon #warrior #warrior fanfic #warrior fanfiction #warrior movie #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy smut #tom hardy oneshot #tom hardy one shot #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy x you #tom hardy

[ao3feed-newsies]

Newsies oneshots/headcannons

by, Blinkstaymidzy by Blinkstaymidzy Many random newsies oneshots/head cannons You can request any ship! I will not do any Les romantic parings and will not do x reader.(sorry) I will do fluff and smut. Words: 1173, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English Fandoms: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies: The Broadway Musical! (2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: David Jacobs, Jack Kelly (Newsies), Les Jacobs, Sarah Jacobs (Newsies), Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Racetrack Higgins, Spot Conlon, Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Finch (Newsies), Specs (Newsies), Romeo (Newsies), Smalls (Newsies), Mush Meyers, Elmer (Newsies), Henry (Newsies), JoJo (Newsies), Tommy Boy (Newsies), Kid Blink, Buttons (Newsies), Sniper (Newsies), Mike (Newsies), Ike (Newsies), Morris Delancey, Oscar Delancey, Crutchie (Newsies), Myron (Newsies), Hot Shot (Newsies) Relationships: Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies), Spot Conlon/Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, Finch/Tommy Boy (Newsies), Romeo/Specs (Newsies) read : https://ift.tt/QNvgz42 - December 03, 2023 at 06:59PM

#AO3feed #newsies #fanfic #newsies fanfic

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 698

Gif NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If this gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2020

----

"Tuff day?" A familiar voice mused from behind Tommy, as he sat hunched over on the barstool at the diners counter. "(Y/n)?" Tommy stared wide eyed at the woman before him, have turned to face her. "Well I sure ain't the Queen of England." She teased with a grin, her words making Tommy roll his eyes playfully. "Still a smartass I see." He retorted before standing to give her a friendly hug. "Something's never change." (Y/n) murmured into his shoulder, his familiar smell drowning her scenes, the pair reluctantly pulling away a moment later. "How have you been?" Tommy asked as she took a seat beside him. "Good, you?" She asked. "I've been better." He sighed under his breath. A few minutes of awkward silence went by before Tommy spoke up again. "You look good, really good." He spoke softly, making butterfly's flutter in (Y/n)'s stomach. "You look really good too." She smiled softly at him. "I'm sorry I didn't come and see you when I got into town." Tommy added, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't expect you to." (Y/n) shrugged. "What do you mean?" He asked feeling a little hurt by her confession. "Tommy I know you... You probably think I'm living the dream eh? Big house, loving husband, kids... I know you'd never show up on my doorstep, because you'd never want to interrupt my life." She was right, but Tommy wasn't gonna admit that verbally. "So do you?" He asked after a moment or two, referring to the dream he invisioned her to be living. "No... Can't seem to stay in a relationship these days." She chuckled dryly. "Whys that?" Tommy asked. "Cause none of them are you." (Y/n) answered truthfully, still in love with her highschool sweetheart. Her confession silenced Tommy for a few minutes, yet again. "I'm sorry I left." He finally spoke up, his stomach twisting in knots with guilt, also still in love with her. "I know why you left, and I understand. I always understood, but I can't say it didn't hurt losing you." (Y/n) smiled softly, when Tommy grasped her hand. "I wish I didn't have to leave you all those years ago." He confessed. "Well you're here now." She muttered quietly, gasping in surprise when Tommy kissed her passionately without warning. "I'm never leaving you again." He promised softly against her lips, the spark between them as strong as ever. "I love you Tommy." (Y/n) cooed her heart practically melting with love. "I love you too (Y/n)." He smiled while tucking a stray hair behind her ear, resting his forehead against hers.

#Imagine #gif imagine #extended #warrior #warrior 2011 #warrior imagine #warrior x reader #tommy conlon #Tommy conlon imagine #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon oneshot #tom hardy one shot #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy #Tommy Riordan Conlon

[alitheamateur]

Rumor

A Tommy Conlon One-Shot

Tommy Conlon and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the beginning. Best friends for life, you’d say. Every other member of your lifelong groups of friends saw right through the way you two tended to, and doted on the other, and the rest of the town whispered about the closeness of your so-called “friendship.” They were all crazy with the buzzing gossip, or were they?

Warnings: Language. Fluffity-fluff.

Tommy ushered you through the slightly battered, creaky door of your favorite slimy, local tavern. Once weekly, your impenetrable circle of friends would gather for drinks, no matter how unmanageable your adult schedules may become. The 7 of you had been attached at the hip since high school, vowing to always have time for one another, and never let the woes of work, family or life interrupt.

This week’s decided night was Friday, much to your satisfaction. They all loved giving you the most grief over acting as the so-called ‘mom’ of the group. Always being the cautious one, the responsible one, and the one who painfully hated staying out past 9 on a weeknight. Truthfully, you’d stay home if it wasn’t for Tommy. You loved your friends, the family-knit bond of your group one you held in the deepest of regards. But, sometimes the quiet of your apartment, and a bottle of wine tickled your fancy more than the poignant booming of a crowded bar.

You were about to head directly towards the bar, getting a heads-up on the drinks would be your fastest escape route to get back into your pajamas with that book you had started on your lunch break. As the rest of the friends broke off to a high-top nearest the pool table, Tommy’s hand fell to your back, his finger hooking around the loop of your jeans.

“I’ll get it, Y/N. You go sit, I know you’re tired from work today. The usual?”

Of course, the man knew what your predictable beverage of choice was, and he could always see the look of distant exhaustion behind your eyes if he searched them long enough.

“Same ol’, same ol’ for me, Conlon. Thank you.”

“Comin’ right up. Go take a seat, okay?”

He bent low to kiss you on the cheek, the hair falling into your face clung to his mesmeric lips, not wanting to let go. You didn’t blame them. You love the way his defining smell mixed when it hit your own. The candy sweetness somehow swirled into the perfect mishmash with his mysterious musk. Over his shoulder as he kissed just below your eye and swept your away from your face, Candace, your best friend in the world other than Tommy, was smiling with noticeable sarcasm.

Tommy sauntered towards the blonde tending bar, and you weaved your way to your chattering friends settling into an informal conversation. Of course, the empty seat was next to Candace and her prying, pushy, insinuating mouth.

“What’s with the smile, nosey?” You climbed into the stool, your wispy tank top shifting a bit low around the neckline.

“Oh, nothing at all. Don’t mind me. I’m just watching this re-run where two of my closest friends’ touch, and smile, and silently pine away for each other for the whole damn world to see. Other than themselves, of course.”

You elbowed her, catching the blunt of your nudge into her ribs under the table. No one else in attendance appeared to be registering much into your talk with Candace as they placed bets on a few rounds of pool. Not that the topic of you and Tommy wasn’t one of weekly reoccurrence. They all had their opinions, annoyingly all drawing the same conclusion that you and Tommy Conlon should just make-out and get it over with.

Not that you were against their plan of action. Truthfully, they were all entirely correct. Each and every one of them. But, there was no way you would ever, ever risk the dependable, comfortable bond you and Tommy shared. Things in life were always the opposite of easy for the pair of you, and the hardships only sewed you closer together. Tommy clearly only thought of you as his closest of friends. You were a comfort to him, as he was to you. A strong-tower on a shitty day, and a warm body to keep you company on the couch for The Office binge watch parties.

Before you could ultimately tear into Candace yet again, only managing to toss her a snide eyeroll, Tommy’s hand fell to your shoulder, the other serving your chilled beer.

“A beer for my best lady,” he snarled into your neck, the draft beer on his breath finding its way to your nostrils as the vibrations from his words excited your flesh.

Tommy took off his jacket, draping it messily over the back of your stool, and dragged over to a couple of the guys shooting a competitive game of pool.

Tommy could wash dishes wearing the most ruffled pink apron covered in fuzzy bunnies, and make it seem like tantalizing sex. But, something about watching him throw around a cue stick, his back stretching under his shirt as he leaned to knock in a game winning shot, made your insides squirm in the most welcomed of ways. For you, there was being turned on, and there was being turned on by Tommy Conlon.  

Over the passing hours, he had checked in on the fullness of you drinks, escorted you and Candance towards the restroom because there was a crowd of unfamiliar out-of-towners in attendance that he didn’t trust, and simply just tended to you. As he always, always did.

Your beer count was adding up, and ultimately, you began to feel boneless towards the end of the night. Last call was fast approaching, and in tradition, the band of the night played it’s last three songs of their setlist, all slow numbers for those love connections who weren’t quite ready to leave hand in hand, but weren’t exactly ready to part ways, either.

One tune had passed, and the members of your posse found their way onto the sticky dancefloor, peanut shells cracking under all the swaying, unsteady feet.

“Dance? For old times sake. We owe it to the disaster that was fucking junior prom.” Tommy settled his empty mug on your table, his white t-shirt slightest bit damp from the sweat pooling around his neck.

“Hopefully, you’ve learned to avoid my toes by now, Conlon. Or else.” You threatened, using his offering hand to steady your feet onto the floor.

Being the clumsy queen you were, you stumbled a bit, Jell-O legs faltering beneath you, the alcohol clearly not improving your coordination. Tommy’s quick, fighter reflexes jumped to your rescue, his thick forearms caging your waist. The lethal concoction of his breaths falling into the slit of your exposed cleavage, and his furry eyelashes batting around liquor-heavy lids made even your hair sensitive to his closeness.

“Easy there, lightweight. I got ya’.” Tommy half-grinned, standing you up straight, but using his sturdy body to prop you against as he escorted you to the floor of dancing drunks.

The song seemed familiar, but either way it was hypnotizing. It reminded you of Tommy with its sleek rhythm, and raspy lyrics.

Your hands clawed and wound a knot into the back of his shirt, the bone of his broad shoulder blade crawling underneath his tan skinned as he massaged his hand over your back. His hard, rolling muscles made you begin to sweat all of your beer to the surface. You could barely register anyone in the room except for Tommy, but the pierces of eyes on the two of you in embrace kept you just aware of reality.

“Seems someone has gotten a little lighter on their feet since prom…” You toyed, resting your face on his rocky pec.

“The fighting has helped. And, the excellent partner doesn’t hurt, either.”

The beating cadence of Tommy’s heart amped into your ear as he fiddled with the tip ends of your hair.

“Y/N?”

You had gone silent briefly, a bit sleepy with drunkenness, but mostly entranced by just the feel of his dangerous, calloused fingers in your hair, however innocent the sentiment may have been.

“Sorry,” you yawned, gazing up at him. “The day, and my beers are suddenly catching up to me. Let’s finish this song before you take me home, though?”

Tommy simply pulled you back into him, continuing his spinning of circles with you in his arms. His hand once in your mane, had meandered down lower, now barely teasing under the hem of your shirt. Tommy played with the dimples in the small of your back, his palm sliding with ease due to the pearls of sweat on your bare skin.

“Everyone is lookin’ at us, ya’ know.”

“What’s new? They’re always staring at us, aren’t they?”

Tommy used one fingertip to angle your chin to his. “Whaddya’ say we give ‘em somethin’ to look at, Y/N?”

A paramedic would’ve rushed you straight to the hospital had they checked your pulse or temperature in that moment. A bomb of suspense exploded inside you as you searched Tommy’s peaceful, handsome face.

“And what might that be, exactly?”

“They’re always whispering about us, aren’t they? Which I can deal with… If its’ what you’re okay with. But, I would really like to finally give them a real reason to talk. What do you say we make all those rumors about us true, baby?”

His face was painfully close. So close you couldn’t breathe. You needed to run for air, or steal it from his warm mouth. You knew for certain which of your two options would satisfy you most.

“I thought you’d never ask, Conlon.”

Every tiny hair on your body raised in attention and anticipation, your knees threatening to crumble in opposite directions as Tommy sank to you. His nose nudged and grazed over the button tip of yours, just before his lips touched easy onto your mouth. The contact satisfied you in the most exquisite way, and you immediately recalled every kiss from your past, easily deciding they had all come up short. The union of your tongues was sensual, yet firm with eagerness. You could hear Tommy’s kitten like mewl when his lips were opened, moving around over the feverish ones on your face, and you thought it may very well have been the sound that dreams were made of.

Erotic, steamy, crude, pornographic dreams.

Both your hands fisted into Tommy’s silky hair, one palm kneading over the back of his craning neck. You wondered how long you had been molding into him, depriving your lungs of a deep breath, but you would not dare allow his kiss to leave you. Every nerve around your mouth was screaming from the heat, from the touch, from the wet silk of his tongue sucking the strawberry gloss from your mouth, and you knew that with this first embrace, Tommy’s taste would be your most merciless infatuation.

He was the first to break away, only to pepper tidier, gentler kisses across your flushed face. The intimacy of his eyelashes brushing across your cheeks and nose with his lackadaisical blinks caused you to seek immediate contact with the front of his low-slung blue jeans. The button of your light denim grinded into the zipper of his darker ones, and within the confines you felt him hard against you.

“How about when you walk me to my front door tonight, you don’t leave your car running in the driveway?” You muttered dimly and breathily into Tommy’s ear as he held you on the dance floor, the music long stopped.

TAGS: @eap1935 @torialeysha @mollybegger-blog @miidailyinspiration @littleluna98

#tommy conlon #tommy riordan #tommy conlon fanfic #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon imagine #tommyconlonfanfic #oneshot #Tom Hardy #tomhardy

[nerdsies]

College AU

not requested, i’m just newsies trash // this focuses on race, albert, and spot. not necessarily romantic.

race and albert are roommates

spot and graves’ dorm is across the hall

race is in general arts with an “undecided major” because his skills don’t rly add up to one thing. he takes dance and philosophy and Classic Renaissance Literature

albert is headed for law school. he wants to stand up for the little guy

spot’s there on a football scholarship, studying social sciences

race’s skills include: philosophy, languages, math (an absolute genius, actually, but it’s not smt he wants to pursue), flirting, and getting distracted. he’s either An Absolute Genius or Insanely Stupid. loveable boy.

albert has a tendency to drop responsibilities at a moment’s notice for some Good Fun. skills include: sciences, comebacks/puns/mic-drops/witty comebacks, public speaking. has a habit of splurging his money. has incredibly impressive memory.

spot is always Ready To Fight anyone who disrespects him and/or his friends. skills include: anything athletic, defiance, focusing, leadership, standing up for himself and others.

all three are good at creativiy and being an emotional mess.

 they met when their floor had a massive party and everyone was invited. spot was the first one out, going door-to-door and demanding anyone who was inside to come make friends.

albert had a short essay to do...but he could do it later

race was R E A D Y, eagerly taking the beer spot offered him and dragging albert out of their dorm

the three bonded when graves was dared (spot suspected kenny, but nobody knew for sure) to ask a girl if he could do body shots off of her. spot wasn’t about to let this boy’s dignity get thrown out the window so easily and the other two helped talk graves out of it.

they usually hang out in race and albert’s room (‘cause their TV is bigger)

they memorized each other’s coffee orders because of all the 2am coffee runs

“hey race, since you’re going i’ll take a large americano.”

“black?”

“as my soul”

“Jesus Christ, spot, calm down”

spot actually takes three sugars. race knows this and brings him sugar packets

they all, miraculously, have finals on the same day

frantic studying literally everywhere. the mess hall. the library. the coffee shop. outside under a tree. spot’s dorm. ralbert’s dorm.

quizzing each other on everything

“okay, so let’s say I hit spot with my tractor. can he sue me for damages?”

“obviously! give me a serious question, damn.”

“is no one curious as to how race obtained said tractor?”

“shut up, spot. a future lawyer is studying.”

they all pass with flying colours and throw the biggest party the college has ever seen in celebration

graves actually did end up taking body shots off that girl at the celebration party, but spot never found out

so uhh i loved writing this should i do more college au stuff?

#newsies #fansies #newsies 2017 #livesies #spot conlon #tommy bracco #race higgins #racetrack higgins #ben tyler cook #albert dasilva #sky flaherty #college au #newsies college au #newsies fanfic #newsies oneshot #fanfic

[turtle-steverogers]

rooftop

whoop whoop here’s a 2:40 am oneshot cuz its prime writing time

warnings: smoking, lightly implied past character death

ship: platonic ralbert

editing: nop

To racer: not doin too great. meet on rooftop?

From racer: yeh. cigs?

To racer: pls

Albert clicked off his phone, stowing it in his back pocket with shaky hands and throwing on his hoodie before lifting open his window and climbing onto his dresser.

“Where ya goin’, Albie?”

Albert closed his eyes, willing the tears that had previously been welling in them to go away.  He composed himself, plastering a convincing smile on his face and turning to look at his little brother, Elijah, who was standing in his doorway in his pajamas, stuffed giraffe in hand.

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” Albert said, wincing as his voice cracked a bit, “I’ll be back in time to help you wash up and tuck you in.”

Elijah nodded, yawning and rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding his giraffe, “Alright.”

“Go do your reading, okay?” Albert instructed, watching as Elijah nodded again and padded out of the room.  

He waited until he could hear Elijah’s bedroom door close, then he hopped out onto the fire escape, climbing up a few flights to the roof.  Race was already there, a cigarette dangling casually from his lips.  He looked over as Albert walked towards him, silently holding the pack out to his friend.  Albert took a cigarette from the box, securing it in his mouth before leaning forward for Race to light.  

He inhaled, holding his breath for a few moments and allowing the tension to drain from his shoulders before blowing the smoke out gradually, watching as it billowed into the dusk sky.

“Wanna talk about it?” Race asked nonchalantly, taking another generous drag.

Albert shrugged, sucking in another lungful before answering, “Not much to talk about.  I just miss her.”

Race nodded, acknowledging Albert’s words, but not pushing him any further.  They lapsed into silence, watching the sun sink completely below the skyline.  The air around them was thick with the smell of tobacco, clinging to their clothes.  Albert pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, allowing the smoke to seep out of his mouth as he studied the small cylinder, flicking it back and forth between his pointer and middle finger.

“This is so bad for us,” He said, letting out a humorless laugh.

“Sure is,” Race agreed, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his shoe.

Albert was quiet for a moment, eyes fixed intensely on the cigarette.  It smelled awful and tasted even worse, but it was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.  The only thing pulling him back from the breakdown he knew he was so dangerously close to.  But it was also taking his life, pulling him back from his brothers who depended on him so much.  Now more than ever since his mother’s passing and father’s increasing abuses.

Suddenly revolted, he threw the cigarette down, crushing it a little too forcefully with his shoe.

Race glanced sideways at him, alarmed.  Albert could feel his gaze on him, but he refused to look up, too lost in the decision he had just made.

“I’m going to quit,” he stated, a determined finality to his words, “I’m done.  I’m gonna quit.”

Race blinked, eyebrows raising as he processed Albert’s words, “Okay,” he said slowly, “Why?”

Albert shook his head, feeling overwhelmed, “I just,” he paused, waving his hand manically, “I can’t anymore.  I’m done.”

“Okay,” Race said again, nodding, “I support you.”  

Albert looked up at him for the first time, “You should quit, too.”

“Uh-”

“Like, seriously, we’re 17.  We shouldn’t be fucking ourselves over like this,” Albert said, kicking the crushed cigarette away from him, “Life is too fucking precious for that.”

Race studied him, concern passing through his eyes as he noticed the tears that were glistening on Albert’s cheeks.  Albert blinked harshly and looked away, angrily wiping at his face.

“Alright,” Race spoke gently, placing a comforting hand on Albert’s knee, “We can quit.”

“Both of us?” Albert whispered, voice choking.

“Yeah,” Race said, “We can do it together.  We’re okay.”

Albert nodded, taking a deep breath, “Okay,” he cleared his throat, “Yeah, thanks.”

Race watched him struggle to compose himself, frowning as he seemed to curl in on himself a bit.  He seemed unsure.

“How do we quit?” Albert asked apprehensively.

Race bit his lip, looking around for a moment before grabbing his pack of cigarettes and standing.  Before he could second guess himself, he walked to edge of the building and threw the pack over the side, letting a resolute grunt escape him as he did so.

He turned back to Albert, who was watching him with a shocked expression, “There.”

Albert huffed out a disbelieving laugh, “Damn, Higgins, didn’t know you had that in you.”

Race sat back down next to him, scooting closer so that Albert could rest his head on his shoulder, “Me neither, but I figured it’d be a good place to start.”

Albert sighed, leaning in further to his best friend as a rush of gratitude washed over him.  For the first time in a while, he felt at ease knowing he wasn’t going through something alone.

-

we stan race being understanding and supportive

oo i lov hurt al dont i

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend

@auspicioustarantula

@faithmil

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty

#newsies fic #newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #chaotic boys #poor al #lov race #they be makin bad decisions #but then they make a good one #and quit #smoking #cuz doin the smoke is bad dont do the smoke guys

[ao3feed-markroger]

Falmer Shortfics, Oneshots, and Other Stories!

by The_Bi_who_lived

This is just a collection of fics for an extreme rarepair, which (because I don't know if it even has a name) I have dubbed "Falmer"!

WARNING!!! May contain: fluff, lots of description of photos, possible later angst, a whole buttload of gay, and rarepairing all to hell!

(But fr, I will tag individual chapters in the tags list, and also give warnings at the beginning of each chapter if there ever is any possibly triggering material! If I miss something, let me know!)

Words: 1712, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Finch (Newsies), Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Elmer (Newsies), Jack Kelly, Crutchie | Crutchy (Newsies), Specs (Newsies), David Jacobs, Spot Conlon, Racetrack Higgins, Tommy Boy (Newsies), JoJo (Newsies), Henry (Newsies), Buttons (Newsies), Romeo (Newsies)

Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies), Albert DaSilva/Elmer (Newsies), Finch/Elmer (Newsies), Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies)/Elmer (Newsies), David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Crutchie/Jack Kelly, Crutchie/David Jacobs, Crutchie/David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Tommy Boy (Newsies)/Jojo (Newsies)/Henry (Newsies)/Buttons (Newsies), Romeo/Specs (Newsies)

Additional Tags: Fluff, possible later angst, Multichapter, Rare Pairings, chapter one tags, Snow, Photography, Gardens & Gardening, snowy gardens, Winter, winter gardens, Photographer!Finch, Our boys are headed to a new year's party, chef!specs, baker!crutchie, pastry chef!crutchie, very descriptive writing, Little Dialogue, Tumblr Prompt, v gay, v fluff, Fuckin' Fluffy Mondays, Fluffy as hell, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chapter Two Tags, for the anon, Getting Together, Polyamory, Canon Era, Period-Typical Homophobia, (barely), Specs is a mother, He looks out for his boys, gays, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious, Introspection, Kinda, Very little dialogue, like it can't really be counted as dialogue even, observation

from AO3 works tagged 'Crutchie/Jack Kelly' http://bit.ly/2G0e3lI via IFTTT

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Crutchie/Jack Kelly' #newsies #jack/crutchie #jack x crutchie

[mlmxreader]

Something Is Always Better Than Nothing | Tommy Conlon x gn!reader

anonymous asked: Tommy Conlon: Hello, hello! I hope you're doing good 🖤. May I please ask for a little something using the following prompts for my sweet baby Tommy Conlon X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "Shit, it’s cold"

summary: a late night visit in a dire situation forces Tommy to withhold his own anger for a while.

tws: swearing, vague/brief mentions of violence

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Tommy welcomed you into his flat with not quite open arms, wondering mostly what the fuck was going on that you were banging on his door in the middle of the night and wearing your pyjamas; he didn't think much about the suitcases you had, or the fact that you looked so fucking exhausted and miserable.

He didn't think about any of that, not even when he got you to sit at his breakfast bar and drinking a coffee. He could see you visibly shivering, and guessed that it had something to do with the fact that you were wearing pyjamas in the middle of the night during September.

He shrugged it off.

"Shit, it's cold," your teeth chattered as you desperately tried to warm yourself, rubbing your biceps with a slight vigour in a vain attempt to warm up. "Are you not cold?"

Tommy shrugged, leaning on the breakfast bar opposite you; bent over slightly, his vest rode up to reveal that he had been wearing Batman themed boxers. Usually you laughed at that. But you were so cold and tired and stressed that you just didn't think about it.

But Tommy looked at you closely, studying you for a moment; something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He knew that you would tell him when you felt ready, so he felt no need to pressure you by asking for any information. You just took a swig from your coffee and exhaled harshly when it burned the roof of your mouth slightly, making him laugh.

But even still, something told Tommy that there was more to it than you were letting on. You seemed stressed beyond belief, wringing your hands together, trying to hold down bile-laced burps, trembling hands and jumping when he accidentally knocked his knee into the cupboard.

You knew he would never hurt you, so why did you flinch?

He sighed, licking his lips as he dared to furrow his brows and clear his throat. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

You shook your head. "Tom, please… I've got nowhere else to go and-"

"You can stay," he said, shaking his head. "Of course you can stay. We're partners… and it means I don't have to ask you to move in."

"Thank you," you breathed out, some of the tension dropping from your shoulders. "Really. Thank you."

Tommy shook his head again, chewing at the inside of his lip and gently pulling some of the flesh away as he swallowed thickly, audibly gulping. "I don't know why, but I can see you're scared… you're safe with me."

You glared at him for a moment; he had seen that glare so many times. Deer who had been hit by cars being put out of their misery and knowing what's about to happen. Sheep about to face the butcher's knife. Tommy had seen that fearful, wide eyed glare before.

He didn't want to know why you looked at him like that; he knew if he did, he would end up storming out and making sure that the person who caused it paid ten times over.

He knew that look, and he hated to think that it was you who was wearing it. He clenched his jaw tightly, biting back the urge to say what he really wanted to - the urge to promise you that he would sort it, he would make sure no one ever scared you like that again.

He narrowed his eyes a little.

"You hungry?"

You nodded. "A little…"

"I haven't got much," he started, hoping he didn't sound as angry as he was, "mostly soup, Mac and cheese, canned stuff. Eggs. Cheese… I can make you an omelette?"

You nodded again, daring to smile weakly. "That'd be great… just cheese, though, please."

Tommy hummed as he smiled. "Yeah, sure… two or three eggs?"

"Just two," you said quietly. "I'm not… my appetite doesn't really exist at the moment… long day, too much shit."

"Yeah," he breathed out, clearing his throat. "Yeah, that's fine, baby. Don't worry."

Tommy wished, more than anything, that he could change things. That he could make you feel safe and secure with him, but he knew that some shadow was haunting you and was preventing you from being able to see that properly, shrouding your eyes; it wasn't right.

You and Tommy had been together for years, ever since your last day of secondary school together, it wasn't right that some evil bastard had made you feel unsafe even when you were with him. He really fucking hated whoever did it, although guessing from your demeanor and your appearance, he could guess who it was.

He silently promised himself that if he saw them when he was out, he would make sure that they never hurt you again. Never. He would make sure of it.

It wasn't right that some bastard had made you feel like that, even he knew; Tommy was far from the best partner, he fucked up a lot and he made a lot of mistakes - but he never hurt you… except the one time he accidentally kicked you out of the bed when you had been staying the night. He never hurt you intentionally.

He never raised his voice at you, never withdrew his affection, never turned you away except for the time he had the flu and didn't want to kiss you for fear that you would get it, too. He would never. Tommy loved you, and you loved him just as much. He couldn't believe that someone had been allowed to hurt you and no one had done anything about it.

But, his main focus for the night was you - he cracked the eggs in the pan, starting to cook them, and he smiled as he looked at you. Sound asleep on the breakfast bar. Tommy would wake you when the food was cooked, but for now, he could at least take some comfort in knowing that you felt safe enough to fall asleep.

That was something, and something was always better than nothing.

#mlem writes #tommy conlon fanfiction #tommy conlon fanfic #tommy conlon fic #tommy conlon oneshot #tommy conlon one shot #tommy conlon imagine #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon x you #tommy conlon x yn #tommy conlon x y/n #tommy conlon #warrior fanfiction #warrior fanfic #warrior film #warrior movie #warrior #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy x you #tom hardy x yn #tom hardy x y/n #tom hardy oneshot #tom hardy one shot #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fic #tom hardy

[mlmxreader]

Still There | Tommy Conlon x gn!reader

anonymous asked: Tommy Conlon: Hello, hello! I hope you're doing good 🖤. May I please ask for a little something using the following prompts for my sweet baby Tommy Conlon X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: “We still have each other”

summary: Tommy doesn't really know how to stop suffering in silence, but at least he knows that he isn't completely alone all the time.

tws: swearing, touch starvation

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

As of late, Tommy had been through so fucking much that it was difficult to understand how he was coping with everything; he never spoke about it, he only continued to soldier on despite knowing that he didn't have to suffer in silence.

He never spoke about it, but he was suffering and you could see it in his eyes every time you caught his eye. You wanted to tell him that you were there, that you would not go anywhere or give up on him even when he thought you would. But when he walked in, huffing and puffing and refusing to meet your gaze, you knew that you could no longer cope with it.

‘Snuff’ by Slipknot was playing softly over the kitchen speakers, one of your songs, and usually, Tommy would have smiled. He liked to come home and find you playing your music as you went about doing whatever you could - cooking, cleaning, washing; the things he usually did if he was home.

But he didn’t smile, only dumped his workout bag by the door and kicked off his shoes before he settled on the stool at the breakfast bar; he wrung his hands together, biting and chewing at the inside of his top lip, gently pulling off bits of flesh as he sighed.

You looked at him with sympathy for a moment, wishing that he would tell you what was going on. You knew he didn’t want to talk, though, so you only made him a cup of coffee and looked at him fondly. With his voice a soft grumble, Tommy nodded at you and smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

You nodded back, licking your lips as you hummed softly. “No matter what’s going on right now, Tom, we still have each other - you still have me. Constantly.”

“I know,” he muttered, and even though he tried to hide it, you could still see the sadness in his eyes and how it even infected his voice.

You hummed again, turning away from him and heading over to the cupboard; you wanted to tell him more. You wanted to tell him that you cared and that you wished he would speak to you about what was going on, but you had a strong feeling that he didn’t want to. He just followed you like a lost puppy when you closed the cupboard and headed to the bedroom.

Waiting for you by the door as he watched you get one of his hoodies; usually he made a comment about such theft, but when you put it on and you made sure that the strings were the same length, he stayed quiet. Tommy really wasn’t himself, but given what he had been going through lately, you couldn’t say that he was wrong to.

You couldn’t say you felt anything but sorry that he thought he had to suffer alone. You didn’t think, getting in his face for a second before you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling his body flush to yours and letting him bury his face against the side of your neck; you smiled to yourself, gently rubbing his back.

Tommy clung on tightly, the fabric of his hoodie bunched in his fists between your shoulders as he held on as much as he could.

He sniffled, trying to wriggle closer despite knowing that he couldn’t, even if he tried; you weren’t surprised, Tommy rarely had any sort of physical affection unless it came from you, and your heart shattered every time you thought about it for more than two minutes.

You kept holding onto him, though, quietly shushing him as you rubbed his back a little more, wishing your heart didn’t break so much every time he clung onto you like that.

“It’s alright, Tom,” you whispered. “I got you, it’s alright.”

He nodded, pulling away as he cleared his throat, ashamed that he had shown any weakness at all; Tommy hated being vulnerable, but he knew that you understood he was working on it and he was really doing his best.

For the months he had been working on it, the hugs had gotten longer and longer every time. He didn’t need you to tell him you were proud of him for that - he already knew. So he coughed quietly, and hummed under his breath as he took a step back. 

“You eaten anything yet?”

You shook your head, daring to flash him a reassuring smile. “I was waiting for you.”

Tommy nodded slowly, leading the way to the kitchen and gesturing for you to sit down; he wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he wasn’t the worst either, so you were quite happy to sit at the breakfast bar and watch as he pulled the ingredients from the cupboards and fridge one by one.

He didn’t need to say anything, you knew what he was doing; silently trying to show you that he did appreciate it, and he did really feel grateful for you being so understanding all the time. That he did care. That’s all Tommy was trying to do, show you that he really did care about you and that he wasn’t trying to push you away - he just wasn’t sure how to stop suffering in silence.

He knew he didn’t have to, but he wasn’t sure how to start opening up. He had spent so long keeping things to himself until they turned him bitter and cynical, cruel and angry - he had no idea how to let someone else share the burden with him.

But he was working on it, and he knew that you knew he was. Tommy tried his best with those things, even though he really didn’t know heads from tails and had no idea where to start with them; but he figured, the least that he could do was to show you that he cared.

So he turned your music up a little, ‘BDSK.exe’ by Bloodywood filling the kitchen. Tommy relaxed, knowing that it was still your music. He found his footing, he knew what he was doing. 

Above all else, Tommy knew that you were still there. 

#mlem writes #tommy conlon x reader #tommy conlon imagine #tommy conlon fanfiction #tommy conlon fanfic #tommy conlon #warrior fanfiction #warrior fanfic #warrior fic #warrior imagine #warrior x reader #warrior film #warrior movie #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fic #tom hardy oneshot #tom hardy one shot #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy x you #tom hardy x y/n #tom hardy x yn #tom hardy

[ao3feed-newsies]

Newsies Oneshots (and shitposts)

by, DemetersGaySon by DemetersGaySon Dumb newsies shit? But also wholesome newsies shit? Bam. You’re here right now. Words: 172, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Newsies - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: David Jacobs, Jack Kelly (Newsies), Les Jacobs, Sarah Jacobs (Newsies), Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Albert DaSilva (Newsies), Kid Blink, Tommy Boy (Newsies), Bumlets (Newsies), Racetrack Higgins, Spot Conlon, Crutchie (Newsies), Finch (Newsies), Morris Delancey, Oscar Delancey, Elmer (Newsies), Buttons (Newsies), Mush Meyers, Romeo (Newsies) Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs/Jack Kelly (Newsies), Albert DaSilva/Jack Kelly, Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies), Buttons/Elmer (Newsies), Morris Delancey/Tommy Boy, Crutchie/David Jacobs, Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, York/Spot conlon, Elmer/Romeo/Bumlets, Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer read : https://ift.tt/6jeHDZx - October 23, 2023 at 06:07PM

#AO3feed #newsies #fanfic #newsies fanfic

[alitheamateur]

Masterlist

Tommy Conlon:

Lights, Camera, Action? (NSFW)

Proud Poppa

Perfect Patient

Pleasure for Pain (Mildly NSFW)

Locker Room Liaison

Harley and Heat Lightening (NSFW)

Party of Three (NSFW)

What Dating Would Include… (Mildly NSFW)

What Parenting Would Include…

Rumor

Daddy-Daughter Duty

Bob Saginowski:

Birthday Boy Bob (NSFW)

Birthday Boy Bob Pt. Two

The Grind:

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

 Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Liv & Colton- One Shots

*Contains some spoilers if you haven’t yet completed The Grind*

Special Delivery

The Grind- A Wedding (Part 1)

The Grind- A Wedding (Part 2)

Hey, Jealousy

Turning The Tables

Reggie Kray

Little Bird

A Taste of Home (Chris Evans X OFC Series)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

#fics #Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tommy conlon #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction #chris evans #chrisevans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x ofc #fanfiction #tommy conlon fanfic #tommy conlon imagine #chrisevansfanfic #chris evans oneshot #chris evans imagine #Elizabeth Olsen #lily james

[alitheamateur]

Lights, Camera, Action?

TOMMY CONLON ONE-SHOT

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content. Language. Slightly dominating male. Public sex.

Summary: Tommy is coaxed into making a PR appearance for an upcoming tournament, and needs to let off some steam before smiling for the cameras. When you deny him, that need only grows for Tommy, leaving him no choice but to take matters into his own hands. 

Word Count: 2,395

You had been dabbling recently with an edgier sense of fashion, and after careful consideration (and several grueling hours of window shopping) decided on a timeless black strapless jumpsuit. The fit wasn’t tackily form fitting, but hugged your waist tastefully and ever-so-slightly complimented your modest chest. Thankful for Tommy’s sufficient height, you slid on the backstrap of a rather heighted stiletto while tucking a loose wave of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck me....” you heard his gravelly undertone huff from behind, sounding as if the sight he beheld literally exhausted him to look at.

“Tommy Conlon!” Standing straight, you turned to discover his sulky arms crossed in the entryway of the bathroom, shaking his head with a sinful upward turn of his mouth. 

He was a vision every day in faded sweats sitting on the v-cut of his hips, and a probably torn t-shirt. But the man was absolutely murderous in a suit on the rare occasion he was somehow coaxed into wearing one. No one forced Tommy to do a single thing that he didn’t want to, but occasionally you could pout your mouth just right, and maybe persuade him into a thing or two.

“That was a demand, not an observation, y’know…” he said, sauntering toward you with a lip pinched between his slightly uneven top row of teeth. He began to pull lightly at the top button of his crisp white shirt that contrasted his tanned skinned like sunshine and moonlight, readying himself for the very act he had suggested.

“Ah, ah, ah! Freeze,” you warned him with one ample finger to the exposed, hot flesh between his collarbones. “We’re already late, and I didn’t buy this outfit for nothing.”

The pair of you were to attend a PR event for a summer tournament Tommy was participating in, and his trainer threatened to pull him from the card if he couldn’t put on a professional face and make his requested appearance. So tonight, he’d resentfully wag you around on his arm, rolling his gray eyes every time the cameras flashed, and you would definitely take shameless advantage of the impressively stocked open bar.

He chivalrously escorted you down the brick stairs of your duplex and opened the passenger side of his newly purchased, classic model Mustang. It was a purchase he had made hastily with one of the first checks from an impressive victory, and spent overly excessive amounts of time rebuilding it to it’s full potential. The dark hues of the four-wheeled stallion suited Tommy faultlessly. Dark, potentially dangerous, and seeping with raw sexuality.

His thick fingers brushed away your long, chestnut waves to one side exposing a July sun-kissed shoulder where he placed a sticky, lingering kiss. You heard an airy chuckle in close proximity to your ear, no doubt knowing it was a reaction to the rash-like chills he instigated all over your body.

“How you gonna hold out on my lookin’ like this, Y/N? You know I ain’t gonna be able to behave…” the always animalistic aroused man filled his grasping paw with the swell of your taut backside.

Tommy was uncontrollably sexual from nearly sunrise, to sunset. Not that it was a complaint per say to have the likes of a statuesque man such as him fawning over you constantly. But you were all too familiar with the twisted, sensual games he liked to play when you attempted the valiant effort to muster up the courage and turn him down. The night was still very young, and already Tommy had on his best game face.

Upon starting the car to back carefully from your driveway, he leaned to place a hot hand just north of your knee. You assumed it was his request to hold your hand on the drive, but when the veined hand in question squeezed agonizingly tight, and deliberate you knew those suspicions were far from correct. Shifting in your seat, you mocked your movements to appear as if merely adjusting into a more comfortable position, careful to stifle the airy squeak of desire from your throat. But, resulting from the nervous squirms, your seatbelt strap had minimally exposed a teasing peak of your breast, pulling open the u-shaped sweetheart neck of your jumpsuit. As if smelling out the accidental uncovering of cleavage, Tommy lifted finger to trace teasingly upon the curve of your bosom leaving one hand safely on the wheel.

“You tryin’ to get me to pull this car over, are ya’?” Tommy wiggled awkwardly in his own seat, drawing attention to the very clear outline of the pulsing member thru the confines of his slacks. He licked his wanton mouth like a lapping kitten, and laid his head frustratingly upon the headrest.

Unconsciously, your mind began testing strategies on how he could take you in the car considering the inconvenience of your one-piece outfit, when you suddenly felt a whispering breeze of air on your chest. Taking advantage of your clearly distracted state, Tommy had finagled a way to pull down your top and was now rolling and tugging at your standing nipples.

“To… Tom. Tommy, are you crazy?! Someone could see,” you weakly scolded him behind closed eyes and a lulling tongue. Your body reacted by tensing like stone, but somehow your legs felt as tottering as Jello.

“Why d’ya think I got the darkest window tint on this car, baby? Ain’t nobody gonna get a sight of these creamy tits but me. I promise.” He continued the sinister rubs of his hands, and you felt the speed of the car slowly declining while the passing headlights seemed to speed furthermore.

When your mushed brain was able to relay the message to open your eyes, Tommy was easing the car into a corner parking space at a park in close proximity to the conference hall where the event was being held. Once placing the gear to the “P” on the dash, he searched the side of his seat for the lever to scoot himself further from the steering wheel of the car. Clearing making room for whatever tantric scenario he was rehearsing in his mind.

“You gonna crawl on outta that little outfit, or you plan on makin’ me tear it open to get what I been wantin’?”

You couldn’t look away from his delicious, hypnotizing stares and remained unmoved where you sat, breasts still catching the light of a full moon, and the green haze of the radio dials. Taking way more time than he saw fit, he opened his door exiting the car. Sitting awestruck and panting there alone in the still running vehicle, a sea of confusion drowned you. But suddenly, when a dark figure loomed on the outside of your murky, tinted window and nearly ripped the door from the hinges upon opening, it all made sense.

The impossibly broad man grasped you gently, but purposefully about the wrist and guided you to raise from your seat. You instinctively reached to shield your naked torso from the possible wondering eyes, but then noticed the vacant lot around you. Tommy was no fool, nor amateur to these racy situations, and he brought the two of you to this particular place knowing the solitary location. It was no accident you wound up here. He sluggishly discarded his suit jacket to your now empty seat, and unfastened his belt as he calmly relocated to the front end of the black sports car.

His lack of vocal explanations made you shutter with orgasmic exhilaration, knowing whatever Tommy planned would have you perspiring and writhing at some point in the exchange.

“C’mere, Y/N. I need some’n from ya’.” The headlights of the car had been shut off, but the dim orange of parking lights highlighted the calm demeanor across Tommy’s slightly scruffy face.

Wise, and aroused enough to not protest, your heels clacked boldly against the cracking chunks of blacktop below you as you followed the delectable mans’ orders. You should’ve been properly accustomed to your beau and his otherworldly visual aesthetics by now, but it seemed he had made a dirty deal with father time himself, and only got more handsome with age.

“And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over whatever it is than you need, Mr. Conlon?” You cooed, dragging lower the upper half of your clothing, now revealing the feminine skin just below your navel.

He lifted you then with little effort onto the hood heated by the smothering summer air, flat on your exposed back, stuffing his hands inside the rolled up mess of your jumpsuit to tug your legs from it. His eyes glazed with rigorous, carnal desire when he was met with only bare flesh underneath your clothing.

“Wha’ do we have here then, hm? Somebody was askin’ for a lil’ romp wi’ me by the looks of it.” He chuckled sultrily. His Pittsburgh lilt coming through more dominant as it usually did in when he was kidnapped by unmanageable lust.

“Don’t flatter yourself, mister. It was strictly for…… comfort purposes,” you attempted a logical excuse, but the tilting nod of his head gave way that he knew for certain the cheeky gesture was intended only to rile him.

Tommy lifted one of your petite legs to lay atop his shoulder and kissed the protruding ankle bone next to his mouth. Never missing a beat, he lazily slid his nose up the line of your calf, knee, mid-thigh, seemingly to inhale your aroma like a predatory jungle cat. His tongue almost unnoticeably stuck from between his lips, leaving a trail of saliva upon your skin to catch the effects of the breezy night wind. Your breathing pattern hitched when two coarse fingers sketched a tickling trail between your now parted southern lips, and Tommy exhaled a breathy laugh of giddy passion.

“By the feel of this slick spot between ya’ thighs, I think you’re gonna be just fine with givin’ me what it is I need from ya’, little girl.” One of the assaulting fingers curled inside your warm entrance, and the other unhurriedly followed suit. The bustle of passing freeway traffic only a short mile or two distance from us only augmented the allure of the already risky situation, and you knew Tommy’s adrenaline was indeed off the charts.

A heated moan of welcome danced from your lips as your back arched further into his slow-pounding hand, all the while the car beneath you rocked rhythmically with his motions. Licks like tepid bath water poured over the lobe of your ear and the pulse in your neck, and you felt slight twitches take over your legs.

“Tommy, I’m almost there. I wanna feel you, please…”

I knew I wouldn’t need to beg. Tommy didn’t care how you got your release as long as he was the cause, so he wouldn’t have any arguments in satisfying you with another member of his body.

He kept a thumb perfectly pressured on your begging clit while smoothly taking down his zipper.

“I guess I oughta get these outta the way, huh. Since I know you’ll go ‘n make a mess of ‘em,” he teased dropping the dark navy shade of his pants just above his knees.

He yanked you sternly and eagerly lower on the hood, evening himself up to the desired target before entering at a torturously slow pace. Thankful in that instant you had decided on loose, relaxed hair for the evening considering the rutting, flailing movements of your head. Tommy never closed his eyes when the two of you made love, afraid he may miss the bounce of your perfectly portioned breasts, or the needful way you gnawed on your lip almost drawing blood when he grazed your internal sweet spot.

“That’s what my girl likes, ain’t it? Tell me, baby. How’s that feelin’?” He antagonized with a furrowed, smiling brow. Tommy was a man of few words in the public eye, but an explicit poet in the bedroom, and he expected the same of his partner.

He knew your body as well as he knew the pages of an MMA rulebook, so he understood fully just how stupidly crazy those slow thrusts made you. He said you were the first woman he’d known to go ‘fuckin’ ape shit’ with hard, drawn-out movements rather than the sloppy, highspeed pumps. But he quickly grew to love himself those less exaggerated speeds, and found a happy medium to suit you both.

 The modest leg coverage of your clothing choice would be necessary when he was done with you, feeling the aches of fingerprint bruises already embedded into your thighs. The marks of crescent moons would still be lingering there tomorrow, a naughty reminder of how powerfully possessive Tommy was.

“Just like that, Tom. I’m getting so close. You’re so good, babe,” I showered his ego with unashamed compliments, feeling a tight knot tangling in my lower belly.

He pulled you up to rest on your elbows, desiring a plainer view of the contorted screams of orgasm that impended closely, then nearly knocked you unconscious with the strike of his kiss.

A shrieking cry pulsed from inside you, followed by the increased cadence of his in and out movements, announcing his own guttural explosion. Tommy’s head lilted backwards facing the open sky, and from my point of view, he resembled a feverish werewolf calling out to the fullness of the moon.

“Much betta. Now maybe I won’t lose my shit and break some reporters nose at this fuckin’ thing,” he stated while offering you a hand in aid as you scooted to drop onto the ground.

“Would you mind handing me some clothes, Conlon. I’d prefer not to get arrested tonight for public indecency.” You tiptoed for a kiss as the man offered an open leg of the jumpsuit for you to step into.

 The two of you giggled like law-breaking teenagers the entire night, feeling sly that no one in the room knew about the very public ravishing that had taken place just hours earlier. Tommy seemed annoyed, yet controlled amongst the vast media questioning and countless photo-ops, and you gave yourself the proverbial pat on the back for probably being the cause of such. All the while in your mind, you amped up for the next public event he’d drag you to, wondering whether these bathroom doors had locks on them.

#tommy conlon #tommy conlon fanfic #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #oneshot #explict #tommy riordan

[alitheamateur]

Pleasure for Pain

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Warnings: Mild pain kink. Mild sexual language. Mild sexual content. Mentions of injury. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,331

Summary: You decide to accompany Tommy for the morning jog he’s been hounding you about, but the plan backfires. You’re left in pain, and unable to finish the run, but the way Tommy tends to you is well worth the pain.

Tommy had begged that you finally join him for a morning jog through the hazy, day-breaking streets of the city. He wasn’t currently training for a specific match, but of course keeping his fitness in ample condition was a necessity in the profession of fighting. The May temperature had finally been inclining to the warmth you were fonder of, so you decided firmly you’d oblige your gym-rat husband, and join him for his daily run. He never tried to push the strict diet on you when he was trying to maintain weight, and you were never frowned upon for your very minimal amounts of exercise, so Tommy genuinely only wanted you to come with him solely for the extra quality time it meant with you.

Your kind gesture had so brutally backlashed on you however, and here you were, currently being piggy-backed up the front stoop of your shared, brick townhouse. A mile or so into the mapped-out route Tommy had specially scoped out for you so it would be a safer part of town, your natural-born, clumsy nature reared its ugly head. The toe of your gray sneakers caught a crumbled chunk of concrete on the sidewalk, causing your weak ankle to curl painfully. Thank the Holy Heavens you were able to save yourself from weightlessly tumbling face first into the asphalt, but the throbbing, instant swelling of your foot was enough to have you yelping. 

Tommy insisted on carrying you the entire way back toward the direction of home, but you incessantly refused, and flagged down a taxi instead. However flattered you were by the man’s desire to always portray the role of your knight in rusty armor, you knew without question his shoulder couldn’t handle the 125 pound pressure of your weightless body for a distance such as that.

The cabby dropped the two of you off after a literal 3-minute lift to your street, and Tommy paid him with the fee, and a ‘thanks’. You carried you untied shoe, and sweating sock in one hand, and tossed both arms around those bullish, broad shoulders to brace yourself for the jarring up the brick steps.

“I’m gonna head upstairs, babe. You can put me down here. I wanna soak it in some Epsom salt so the swelling will go down.” You winced into the ear of his that was level with my mouth.

You had expected him to gently ease me from his back to the floor, but he instead began his march towards the upstairs bathtub with you strapped to him like a fleshy backpack. You tried earnestly to squirm from the clutch he had around your thighs locked around his lower abdomen, but his vice-like grip was impossible to escape.

“I don’t think so, Y/N. You ain’t puttin’ weight on that ankle for at least 24-hours. So, don’t even try t’ fight me on it, baby. Y’know you won’t win that argument.” Tommy sternly spoke, but you knew whole-heartedly he was only looking out for the woman he loved so fiercely.

He entered the dark doorway of the bathroom, flipping the switch for the light, and the ceiling heat you always turned on whenever you took your nightly bath. Your mate knew you were like a cat to heat source, and always promised one day the two of you would pack up and move away from the stark winters of Pittsburgh.

Tommy turned his back to the vanity, so your bottom was even with the cool countertop by the sink and you sat down, unlatching yourself from around his tattooed upper body. His profile revealed a crooked, toothless smile after you kissed the back of his neck before parting. A silent, admiring gesture of appreciation for taking such good care of you. Tommy never treated you as a lesser, or a helpless little bird by any matter. But, when he vowed to protect you til’ death do you part, the man meant it with every haunting fiber in his body.

He pulled your other shoe from the back of your heel and tossed it into the hallway near the mate you had dropped there, then stepped over to unleash a steaming spout of the water into the wide bathtub. Without explanation he exited, but you knew he was retrieving the jug of medicinal salt from the hall linen closet. What you weren’t expecting, was for him to return missing the dri-fit white tee he was wearing when he’d left your sight just seconds ago.

“Well, get those sweaty clothes off, baby. I don’t know how ya’ expect me t’ give ya’ a hot bath wearin’ those.”

Tommy sprinkled a considerable amount of the lavender scented contents into the filling tub, and turned to see you trying to wiggle from the confines of your running shorts without putting weight on the injured limb. Your tongue was stuck from the corner of your lips in concentration, and he quickly jumped to your side offering the steady space of his broad chest to help keep your balance.

“Tom, I’ve been sweating, and I don’t want you this close after my deodorant has definitely worn off,” you uselessly protested.

Not that you didn’t feel one-million percent secure in your relationship with the devilishly handsome individual, but the two of you were only newly-weds of 7 months, and an official couple of 2 years. You didn’t want to ruin this foolish vision he had that you were flawlessly beautiful in every way just yet.  

“Y/N, I think I’ve been on toppa you under much sweatier circumstances. I can handle it.” He winked, then effortlessly swooped you into his cradling arms so he could submerse your naked body in the perfectly heated water.

You shifted your long ponytail into a bun so your hair wouldn’t get wet just yet, and Tommy folded a towel to cover the coolness of the tile tub behind your back. His bulky body was knelt on the plush shower mat covering the floor, and you relaxed back to drink in the way this brooding, masculine male was practically worshipping at your feet. A hum of pleasure rolled from inside your chest as he squeezed the aromatic water from a washcloth over your chest. Tommy’s eyes attentively followed the pathway of the erratic droplets sliding down your breasts and puddling into your navel.

“How’s ‘at, hm? Feel good, Y/N?” Your spouse turned apparently part-time servant cooed, brushing a stray line of hair away from the perspiration collecting on your cheek due the sauna-like bathroom.

The painful shocks from your ankle were shooting up your leg like an electric surge, but you wouldn’t dare hinder the sensual relaxation of this perfect moment. You kept a watchful gaze on Tommy as he leaned to pick up the bottle of soap standing on a shelf in the shower, squeezing a heavy amount into the opened cloth in his thick palm.

“I can do that, silly. Just sit with me until I’m done, and I’ll be perfectly happy, ok?” You shifted to raise, offering he hand over the bodywash.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m the doc, and you’re the patient. I know what’s best, girl.”

He was getting off on this little role play, and who were you to stifle his fun. So, you returned to your original half-laying position and did as you were told. Tommy lathered the contents of his hands, and easily grabbed your arm resting on the tubs side, to begin lightly cleansing your limb. You closed your eyes, relishing in the concoction of the warm water, the velvety bubbling soap, and his firm, calloused hands attending to your entire body. Your nipples grew to a slight point under his touch, and he gave a hearty squeeze to both your breasts as he washed.

“C’mon, gorgeous. Gimme that foot, n’ I promise to go easy,” Tommy coddled, insisting you let him take on your bruising ankle next.

The water sloshed and waved as you lifted your leg from under the water, and Tommy made a foamy path from your hip, down your thigh, then to your foot, holding the weight of your leg for you. He kissed the bone of your ankle with featherlike lips before cautiously washing it. His hair had begun to dampen and drip with heat, so he pushed the strands from his eyes, and you felt an overwhelming tense between your legs.

Your lids had once again closed over your green eyes in shameless enjoyment, so Tommy new he had the element of surprise on his side. The feminine shape of your thick thighs were slightly gaped, allowing him to slide to your opening with little struggle, and you instantly shook from your lax state to find him biting back a smile between his teeth.

“Gotta make sure we get ya’ allllll clean, baby. Can’t leave anythin’ out.” He whispered wantonly as he began tickling the tiny bulb above your entrance.

After turning the bottle of soap upside down into his hand once more, Tommy indeed began washing the half-shaved area at the center of your body. The raw, intimate moment ensuing erased momentarily the hurt from your injury, and you let his motions take you over fully. His strong middle finger entered you as he came closer to kiss your panting lips. He breathed in the hotness of your breath for a brief second before massaging over your tongue with his own. He knew how to make this last, and draw out your release, and he knew exactly how to touch you and send you over the edge in an embarrassing, short number of minutes. Tommy knew your body, as he knew his own. And you could tell by his touch, along with the curling stretch of his finger prodding at that tucked away spot inside you, that it would not be long.

You shook and writhed in the water causing puddles to splash onto the bathroom floor, and no doubt all over Tommy. A mess you were making regretfully for him to have to mop up considering your wounded state, but you couldn’t control your twitching reaction from his intense onslaught. He slid an open palm over the womanly length of your neck as your head tilted in desire, and traced downward to your collarbone, and the peak of your pink, aroused nipples.

“Tommy, more. Please, finish me. I’m so… I can feel it. It’s so close.” The way he could use his bedroom talents to transform you into a begging slag was an enigma you’d yet to solve, and you had no desire to even try.

His veined forearm was no doubt bleeding from your trimmed nails latching onto him, in an attempt to still the contorted flails of your approaching release. But you knew there’d be no complaints on his end, due to the slight kink he had for a little pain here and there when it came to your sexual endeavors together.

“Mmmmm… Baby girl wants to come, does she? I think I got just what she’s lookin’ for then.” The grunts vibrating from his chest, along with you own squeaks of approval filled the room with an X-rated soundtrack that you’d play on repeat in your head when Tommy was gone for a fight that work just wouldn’t let you away for.

When he added his thumb to the attack, you sensed his closing move approaching so you opened your eyes to meet his shadow-blue ones staring back at you, under brows furrowing with passion. Tommy had made it very clear early on that he wanted to look you square in the eyes as he made you come, so he could watch the orgasm pulse through your dilated pupils. And from that conversation on, you had done just that for him. Obliging to his particular desires was the least you could do, considering the plethora of ways he had to satisfy you.

With a wave of warmth raging in your gut, and the growing sensitivity of your clit under the pad of his circling thumb, a scream of his name crawled from the back of your throat. His motions strategically slowed, careful not to deprive you of a single millisecond of orgasmic release, and you lazily gathered your composure.

“How’s ‘at ankle now?” He smiled crudely, dabbing the splashed bath water from his chest with the towel he had waiting by the sink.

“At this very second? I don’t feel a thing.” You moaned with choppy, uneasy breaths.

You were carelessly sailing on such a wave of adrenaline and oxytocin that the lingering sprain of your ankle was wholly absent in that moment. Although you instantly began to dread to commute from the bathroom to the bedroom, knowing the pain would only come rushing back like a mighty hurricane.

“Happy to oblige, baby. Let’s jus’ hope these pain meds do the job as well as I did then.”

He cradled you under the armpits as you lifted from the cooling water and draped the fuzzy bath towel around your shivering shoulders. Your hair had mistakenly gone unwashed in the exchange, but you’d take care of that particular matter later.

Tommy made sure your feet never even touched the ground the remainder of the evening. Settling you back into bed even though it was barely noon-time, he taped an ice-pack to your foot then left your side only to take a shower of his own before joining you for a lazy, Summer Saturday. He elevated your leg to minimalize the swelling, and then wrapped you with a cloth bandage. Thankfully, he was well-equipped to take care of matters as such, due to nursing many of his own ailments caused in the cage. He waited on you hand-and-foot unreservedly, even stuffing his healthy-toned body with some of your favorite ice cream he had treated you to.

“From ‘ere on out, maybe we should keep your workouts in the bedroom, baby. Leave the jogging to me, ay’?”

TAGS: @eap1935

#tommy conlon #tomhardy #tommy conlon fanfic #fanfic #tomhardyfan #tommy riordan #oneshot #tom hardy #original #anrm1 #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction

[alitheamateur]

Party of Three

TOMMY CONLON ONESHOT

Characters: Tommy Conlon/OFC

Warnings: NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content. Language. Brief mentions of childbirth. Fluffy fluffy fluffy.

Party of Three

*Quite lengthy. I just got carried away with Tommy Conlon. It happens to the best of us*

(GIF NOT MINE)

The strobing of a weak streetlight bulb flickered as the haze of dawn drew pink and orange waves of the sunrise in the Pittsburgh skyline. While most 31-year-old, sensible men were still tucked into their Egyptian cotton sheets, nuzzled into the crook of their college-sweetheart turned lawyer wife, Tommy was jogging alone before daylight half withdrawn from the 8 days without Oxy. The sweat sagging neck of his hoodie smelled of exercise and rock-bottom, and his stomach churned from the lack of practical nourishment his breakfast of whiskey and dry-toast lacked. His night-shifts down at the new factory mended his bank account enough, so he had finally relocated from the mildewed, night-mare stained childhood bedroom at his pop’s place. The paint was chipped, the carpet was slimy and stonewashed, and the bathroom sink seemed to be eternally clogged, but his name was on the lease. It belonged to him, and it was his own to tarnish, and morph into a lifetime den of twisted memories. 

He rounded the final corner of his 3-mile journey, approaching the two-stepped stoop of his gray townhouse and the chugging engine of a garbage truck roared up the street beside him. He turned, nodding an empty ‘good-morning’ to the driver exhaling his nicotine morning breath out the window, when a yelping body apparently below his peripheral line of sight collided with his stalky glide.

“What the fu-“

His dry-worked hands skidded across the crumpling sidewalk to keep his teeth from implanting into the concrete, and smashing whatever lightening quick object had made its way under his running feet.

“Cole! Oh my God, are you alright, sweetie?!”

Tommy felt a squirming, snubbing mass finagle free, to run towards the safety of the panicked, flailing arms of the fitful brunette galloping down the driveway. A small boy with a shaggy bowl haircut, decked in the white-cotton threads of a karate suit, wiped the streaking tears down his flushed cheeks, and wrapped his lanky arms around the waist of what appeared to be his older sister. Aunt, maybe?

“I’m so sorry. He’s a little excited. He ran ahead of me out the front door before I could wrangle him up. Are you hurt?” The striking hazel eyes of a petite face framed in chocolate, wavy mane knelt to assess the child for bruises or blood.

“I’m uh… Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Is he… is he okay?” Tommy stuttered, searching his face for injury.

“No blood, no foul. Right, sweetie?”

“I’m not hurt, mommy. Boys who know karate are tough, ‘member?” He peered up at his young mother, puffing his chest to allude imaginary muscles there.

“That’s right, how could I forget?!” She conked a fist to her noggin at the little man beside her. “I’m Whitleigh, by the way. And this is Cole. We live next door now. Just moved in a few days ago.” The lady outstretched a shaking hand, and Tommy noted the lack of a ring on her left hand.

“Oh yeah? I saw some movin’ trucks out front. I’m Tommy. Tommy Conlon.” His clammy palm met her feminine skin, and he might’ve even weakly smiled at the sensation of her touch. “So, karate, huh? You prolly a real scrapper, ain’t ya’?”

“You’re um, you’re a fighter or something, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in the paper before, I think.”

Tommy dropped his head diffidently at her inquisitiveness, peeling back his hood to palm the back of his blotched neck.

“Really? You fight people? Like, like a real-life wrestler?!” Cole yipped, eyes widening at Tommy like he was some superstar in the flesh.

“Uhhh, somethin’ like that, I guess. But, I couldn’t take you, that’s for sure.” Tommy weak fisted the boys bicep, and he chuckled with a snaggle-toothed smile.

“Well, we better get goin’. Cole has a big meet this morning down at the Y, and we’re already running late. See you around?” She suggestively hurried the boy up the drive towards her black sedan parked near the front porch, combing the blonde hair from his eyes.

“Right, yeah. Um, I’m sure I’ll be seein’ you guys.” Tommy cleared the lump in his throat. He hadn’t exchanged a conversation of this length with another human being in months, and his mouth felt tired from the foreign amount of chit-chat.

“Mommy, can Mr. Tommy come watch me today? My friends would think I was the best if a tv fighter came to my match!”

Whitleigh’s mouth fell open into a slack smile as she clicked the boy into his back-seat booster. Her eyes caught the rising sun, and Tommy felt an unfamiliar stir somewhere near his heart. Like, maybe there was actually a beating organ inside his scathed, tattooed chest.

“Not today, buddy. I’m sure he’s got lots to do. Maybe another time though, alright?”

Tommy coughed, and scratched his five o’clock shadowed jawbone. “You can show me those skills some other time, Cole. Good luck today, though.”    

The adolescent lad nodded with hopefulness, and she latched the rear-door while coyly smiling at Tommy from a distance.

Tommy turned his back, stomping up his porch and beginning to peel loose the ratty confines of his sleeveless sweatshirt. This newfound, sudden appearance of tangible emotion had him questioning his insane decision of recent painkiller sobriety.

……

Whitleigh and Cole settled nicely on the block, and next door to Tommy, the man they both had inherited a specific soft spot for. The impressionable, aspiring karate kid carefully noted his fighting role models routine, and would wake up every morning before the birds even began stirring, to watch Tommy stretch, and yawn as he jogged down the sidewalk, only keeping track of him when his shadow would fall into the glare of a streetlight. Then, he’d settle back beneath the rumpled covers of his plaid patterned sheets, and wait for his mother to rouse him for school.

Whitleigh’s sprouting intrigue for the brawny man next door however, was certainly one of a more adult rated nature. She found herself tip-toeing passed the living room window more often than necessary to check for stirring in the house next door. Was he home? Was he home alone again? She waited specifically unnervingly for another excruciatingly hot evening hoping the sticky summer sun would have him washing his motorcycle shirtless on the curb again, covered in sweat and cool drippings from the water hose. He was like living, breathing, X-rated erotica for her to enjoy at her leisure. Not only had he been candy for her eye, but his extreme observance, and need to protect she and Cole moved her greatly. If the motion light she nailed over the backdoor detected any movement, and clicked on, she’d find Tommy peeping through his own curtains as she did the same, investigating the surroundings. And when the mailman seemed to be lingering on her porch one morning while she drank her coffee in the swing, Tommy ran him off quite harshly, informing her the guy was a no good, ex-con.

One Saturday evening, she was scurrying, and tripping over her own two feet trying to wag in grocery bags with the help of her as always very active 6 year-old. The thin strap of her black, flowing tank top was sliding over tip of her shoulder, and she blew a lock of her untamable hair from her eyes, giggling as Cole’s hiccups from gulping his slushy too fast on the car ride home echoed from behind her.

The trunk of her car slammed to a close, and she heard the rustling plastic of more bags being unloaded.

“Tommy! Hey, Tommy look! My tongue, is it blue?!” Cole’s toothless lisp screeched at the man walking up the steps with an impressive amount of cargo lined on each arm.

“Yeah, buddy. It is. Whatchu been into, ya’ lil smurf.”

“He insisted on a slushy at the grocery. And he did so well at practice this morning I just couldn’t say no.” Whitleigh smiled, pinching her tongue to aid in concentration as she maneuvered for the front door key.

“I got a medal, too. Most ‘intuned’ in the class!”

“Most-improved, baby. You’re most-improved.”

Tommy, and the child’s mom chuckled to themselves, careful not to discourage Cole and his little blunder. She kicked the door open easily, Tommy catching it with his own foot to prop it open for Cole and the measly two bags he carried.

“Hey uh, how would you feel about maybe takin’ a run with me in the morning, Cole. It’s gonna be a hot one, and I could sure use somebody to go with me. You down? If your mom says it’s okay, o’ course.” He tousled a noogie over the boys head, and looked side-eyed to Whitleigh as she lunged upward to store the unloaded contents in the cabinet.

The waistline of her light-washed, denim capris clung perfectly fitted to her displayed backside, and Tommy caught a glance of her tanned lower back. Her figure wasn’t toned, and gym-fit like the twenty-something, single women around town. But the way her womanly hips curved, and her thick thighs from the exercise of chasing the likes of a hyperactive kindergartener moved, very much had Tommy’s approval.

“Oh, Tommy… I don’t think you really want him tagging along. Won’t he slow you down? And you’d have to keep a really close eye on him. It’s barely daylight when you leave.”

She turned away, mouthing curses to herself for giving away that she had seen him leave the house a few times before dawn when she heard the pattering racket of his front door closing. Cole wasn’t the only person on dutiful neighborhood watch. She may, or may not have been checking to see if it was indeed a female making her break for it after a night of tantric rolling in the sheets with her unannounced crush.

“He’ll be fine, Whit. I’m not incapable of taking care of a kid, y’ know…” He rolled his eyes, trying and failing to appear insulted.

“MOMMA, MOMMA! Please, please, can I go wif’ Tommy? Please!”

The mother hen sighed, and reluctantly nodded the granting consent and Cole began hipping and hopping circles around the kitchen counter, throwing in a few of his martial arts kicks, and grunts to boot. His erratic spinning of circles weighed heavy on his balance, and Tommy caught his wheezing, giggly body before he toppled face-first onto the floor.

“Alright, kid. You better get to bed early for ya’ mom tonight. I’ll be here for you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Whitleigh’s heart, among other things were warmed watching the way this mysteriously gentle, yet rough around the edges man had already taken such a liking to her young son. Friends for a single-mother were rare to come by, and she intended somehow to relay her gratitude to Tommy for his blind kindness to the both of them.

 She sat her alarm for 4 a.m., allowing herself 30 minutes extra to peel Cole from underneath his plethora of stuffed friends in his bed, but was taken aback when she found him sitting cross-legged in the floor of his bedroom when she opened his door.

“Cole! What do you think you’re doing?! We don’t play with scissors, do you hear me?” She yanked the ragged blade of her kitchen shears out of his grips, and scolded his disobedient act.

She assessed him thoroughly, searching for any nicks or cuts on his arms or legs, then groaned out when she realized what he had done. A still tagged sweatshirt she had bought him back at Christmas was missing a sleeve, and the other hung on jaggedly by a thread.

“Honey, what did you do, huh?” She sighed, and searched Cole’s explanatory eyes.

“I wanted mine to be like Tommy’s, mommy.”

Cole had abstractly chopped the leaves of his hooded shirt to mock Tommy and his DIY running attire. She wanted to be angry, and she would be internally. But, she couldn’t help but laugh at his clever thinking.

She wet his toothbrush and watched him brush, then double knotted his tennis shoes before stepping out the front door to wait for Tommy. The silken robe tied around her waist covered her braless chest, and the men’s boxer briefs she unconventionally used as pajama bottoms.

Next door, Tommy was readying his post-run protein shake, setting aside some ingredients for a kid-friendly edition, thinking Cole would want his own when they returned. He couldn’t make sense of what he felt for the boy, or the fact that he was feeling anything period. Maybe, he saw flashes of himself in Cole’s fatherless lie? Did he want the kid to have some male in his life that encouraged him, and taught him the way a man should behave, and treat people? Sure, maybe Tommy wasn’t the most equipped man for the job, but he knew not to beat women, or lay hands on children. Which was more than his own father ever bothered to teach him.

He poked a finger through his kitchen blinds, the window that looked directly across the driveway into Whitleigh’s bedroom, and saw some lamp light peeking out behind her darkened curtain, alluding she was awake and readying Cole. He wondered aimlessly if he should extend the invite for her to join he and Cole, but remembered how she often teases him for his ‘meathead’ lifestyle. Tommy knew she appreciated his workout habits more than she let on though. Her sideways good morning glances at him while he did his routine 100 jumps of the rope before his 8 a.m. spar told him so. However well his stupid abs, or bulgy biceps usually helped him reel in the brainless groupies down at the bar he frequented, he knew Whitleigh needed more. His grunts, and sulks wouldn’t be enough to impress her.

He shook himself out of the spiraling abyss of questioning, and almost grabbed a shot glass to smother the thoughts. But, he’d need to be sharp, and responsible with Cole if he wanted to remain in good standing with the beautiful family next door.

He left his side door unlocked behind him, as he walked the minimal steps from his house to the residence next door. Cole was bouncing up and down the steps, spitting impersonations of an airplane, or a tractor maybe, chasing an imaginary object around the yard. His mom sat arms crossed on the stoop, her half-exposed thighs fidgeting with the morning chill. Tommy admired her without the touches of makeup, and with the lingering dark circles of a less than restful night.

“Tommy, hey look! Look at me!” Cole galloped into Tommy’s arms, grinning ear to ear, and pounding his chest.

“I caught the little troublemaker in his room with scissors before I got up morning. He took the liberty of nixing the sleeves from that brand-new sweatshirt. Wanted to look like Tommy, didn’t you, bub?” Whitleigh sarcastically smirked, standing at Tommy’s arrival.

He looked at Cole in his arms, giggling uncontrollably at the boy’s miniature hoodie cut to resemble the one he was also wearing. He became instantly afraid, dazed with pressure even. He hadn’t realized the intense way that Cole had indeed been noting him, and observing his every move. A duty to tow the line, and keep on his toes for the sponge of a child settled hard on his heart.

“You look badass, buddy!”

“Tommy!!” Whitleigh scolded with lightening speed.

“I.. Uh, I mean… You look awesome, bro. Real uh.. real cool. Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Tommy coughed and clambered to bury his little expletive mistake.

“Watch him. Please…” She cocked her head, pleading to him with a crinkled nose. “You listen to Tommy, Cole. And stay right by his side, got it?”

“Yeah, momma. I be good, won’t I Tommy?” Cole yanked on Tommy’s long arm, pulling with all his might to hurry him down the road.

“We’ll be fine. No worries, okay? Be back in a couple hours or so. I’ve got my cell if we need ya’.”

She peered down the empty, slow streets of Saturday until the pair turned the corner out of her sight. Tommy glanced back a couple of times, with Cole following suit to wave at her smiling on the porch. She trusted her son was in good hands, and it was safe to squeeze in a least another hour cat nap before breakfast.

 Her cellphone vibrated and buzzed off the side of her end table next to the couch, awaking her with an incoming call. The lazy slumber passing immediately at the disturbance, as she feared the worst expecting trouble with Cole. Tommy’s named lit up across the touchscreen, and she said ‘hello’ before the call had even connected.

“Incoming. Just wanted to make sure you were awake.” Tommy meekly whispered.

She abruptly stood from her couch, peering out the glass storm door, to see the man shoving his phone down into the slick pocket of his shorts, and Cole’s legs dangling around Tommy’s waist.

Jumping barefoot outside, Tommy lifted a hand to calm her, and slow her down before she woke the snoozing child.

“Shhhh.. Hey hey hey, he’s fine, Whit. He’s fine. He got sleepy about 2 miles in, and said his legs were tired,” he smiled sweetly. “So I just carried him back. He fell asleep about 10 minutes ago, I think. At least that’s when he stopped talking about Power Rangers, so I think that’s when anyways.”

Whitleigh reached forth, opening her arms for Tommy to pass the petite, sleeping mass to her so she could settle him inside. But he shook his head under his hood, and continued towards her house.

“I got ‘em. Just lead the way.”

He walked quietly on her heels down the hallway, barely lit with the yellow glow of the sun’s onset towards Cole’s bedroom. Posters of MMA circuit fighters, and a few baseball stars pinned to white walls, and a nightlight near his bed in the shape of a boxing glove. He imagined it would’ve been a room much like his own had he not had to share the small, attic space with his older brother who cared more about women and cars rather than fighting. On Cole’s nightstand, stained with the wet circle of last night’s glass of water, was a portrait of he and Tommy dressed in matching karate garb, drawn in faded marker.

“Best friends, huh?” Tommy nodded towards the misspelled words on the work of art, catching Whitleigh’s eye as she nestled him under the comforter, kissing his reddened cheek.

“He made it last night,” she answered. “I couldn’t get him into bed until he finished. He was planning to give it to you after the little jog this morning.”

“The kid has good taste in friends. What can I say?”

“I guess so. The verdict is still out.” She winded a hand through the tangled ends of her hair, leaving a tiny crack in the door as they scurried out so she could peep in on him later.

“Well, share that pot of coffee I smell, and I’ll see if I can convince ya’.”

He watched her dainty, painted toes stick to the cool floor as she swayed slowly into the kitchen, and he wafted his shirt to let some cool air onto his perspiring chest. He let his brain simmer on the possibilities of what was hidden prettily under the pink robe that skimmed just above a thin scar on her knee.

“Cream and sugar?” She peeped as the pour of coffee flowed into the bottom of a ceramic mug.

“Nah, black is good.”

Whitleigh served two cups, and tucked her leg underneath her as she sat in the wooden chair across the table from him. She fiddled with the silver chain hanging from her neck, only more attracting Tommy to the fluttering gape of her robe as she moved in her seat.

“Was he good for you? Didn’t give you any trouble or anything?”

“He’s a real good kid, Whitleigh. Honest. You done a real good job wit’ him.”

His lips squished on the rim of the cup as he slurped the bitter brew, and she felt her center ignite.

“Thanks, Tommy. It doesn’t hurt that I’ve got somebody like you around to be an example to him either…”

Her lashes cast a fluttering, unmeasurably lengthy shadow over the rim of her lower lid onto her cheek, and Tommy had to situate his visibly growing attraction to her. The strength and steady head she displayed in raising her son alone, the way she held her composure day in, & day out with work and managing a household. What wasn’t to like? The heavy swell of her bosom, and the way her smile seemed to be effortlessly seductive no matter the occasion didn’t hurt matters.

“Trust me… My shit isn’t together even half of what yours is. But, I like the kid, so I’ll help any way you need me. I kinda like hangin’ around you two.”

Tommy didn’t want her to mistake his comments as a come on, but the other half of his shifty brain hoped she would, and maybe he’d get some clarity on how she felt towards him. He couldn’t handle the subtle exchanges, and cheeky stealing looks. Tommy wasn’t the type who played well at cat & mouse, unless he was standing in the cage toying with his next victim.

Neither had really noticed how many wordless seconds had ticked by until the rhythmic drip of the kitchen faucet splashed towards the drain, shaking them to reality. Tommy gulped, scratching his forearm nervously and looked around the room pointlessly, while Whitleigh raised to tend to the leak. She shook the handle, jiggled the spout, and Tommy heard her murmur a ‘piece of shit’ under her breath. He scooted the chair from under him, and rounded the table sitting his empty glass there, to take her side.

“I can fix that, if you want. Not a problem at all.”

He meant to stand to next to her and estimate the appliance issue, but instead he settled his feet behind hers on the kitchen mat, and extended around under her arm. He saw the hairs on Whitleigh’s arm raise, and his exhales ensued goosebumps where her shoulder met her neck. Her fruity scent tickled his nostrils, and a chill rolled up his spine as the sweet aroma nearly instigated a sneeze. She slowly set free the tension his closeness brought to her bones, and she whimpered as he pushed the loose crotch of his pants into the center of her cheeks.

“…..it’s….it’s fine. Just a little shake of the handle usually…usually takes care of it.” She choked, and heaved a struggling breath. Her head fell weightless to his shoulder, and she white knuckle gripped the counters edge to squeeze out some of the pent-up need.

One of his broad, promiscuous hands pulled on the ribbon of her robe, while the other probed up the back of her thigh, tickling the curve of her round ass with calloused, worked fingers. Whitleigh’s nipples poked from the confines of her t-shirt and Tommy envisioned the pink bulbs wet between his teeth.

“Let me tend to some other things around here that need seein’ to then, hm?” He suckled on her earlobe, the gold bulbs of her earrings clanging gently against his teeth.

Her shutter sent the bathrobe cascading from her arms to topple gracefully around their feet. Once Tommy’s hands got a feeling of her soft skin against his, his hunger became irrepressible. He tugged at her legs, rushing her to climb his body. Their lips crashed into each other, their desire screaming at the introduction. Tommy reached his hands into her hair, massaging into her scalp, and his tongue took note and moved seductively against hers. Her mewls of his name, and the breath tossed from her mouth into his enticed Tommy to furthermore explore her every crevice.

“Quiet, Tommy. We have to be quiet. Cole…”

He nodded, lowering her back to the white, chipped tabletop. Her toes curled as her licked up her leg, leaving imprints of his crooked bite on the fleshly meat of her inner thighs. He pulled away to push up the hem of her shirt, and her eyes peeled shut with reluctancy.

“Woah, woah. Hey, whatsa matter, Whitleigh. Talk to me, babe.” He froze, careful not to further intrude if he had done so.

“Nothing. It’s.. I’m fine. Really. Keep going.” She answered surely, but the reluctancy still hid in her underlying tremble of her voice.

He chewed his lips, and carefully continued to peel back her remaining attire. He pulled loose the fabric, and she raised herself to assist him in the undressing. Her hands coyly slid to cover a scar drawn into the lower of her belly, and Tommy’s eyes followed whatever shame she felt there was to hide. He kissed tenderly on her fingers, and eased back her hands to lay behind her head.

“This what you’re so worried about?” He curiously sketched over the marking.

“I’m sure most women you get with don’t have ugly battle scars from childbirth, Tommy…”

He blinked repeatedly, exaggerating his look of taken aback confusion, and almost offence. His palms leaned flat on the table, carrying his weight as he dangled above her.

“First off, you ain’t just somebody I wanna ‘get with’, Whit. Second, don’t ever be ashamed. This,” he pointed. “This scar gave you that badass little boy in there sleepin’. The one that you’re doin’ a damn good job of raisin’, too. Don’t ever feel like you gotta hide that wit’ me. Okay?”

Whitleigh blushed, and her fitful heartbeats bringing a swell of reassurance over her body. To hear that Tommy hadn’t intended on her being just the bed buddy next door eased her worries. She saw potential in Tommy, and whatever this could turn into with him, as well.

She nodded her head, smiling and sighing a loud release of the worrisome pressure she’d been choking on moments ago. Once the exquisite man gathered she had relaxed once more, he began petting over the soft, feminine curves of her body’s edges. His licked his pouting mouth, and journeyed upward to the round handful of her breasts, leaving his hands to work down below. He moaned, stroking the wet patch that stained the warm center of her panties and Whitleigh nearly jolted from the table when his tongue devoured the sensitive line of her ribcage.

Tommy hooked his fingers into the band of her shorts, cheekily popping the elastic before tugging them down her tanned legs.

“I like these, by the way. They look much sexier on you than me..”

He dropped his own shorts, the clunk of his phone in the pocket hitting the floor,  revealing a nearly matching pair of his own boxer briefs. Only his, screaming at the seams trying to trap the large member he was stroking beneath them.

Without so much as a hint of warning, Tommy clutched the backside of her bended knees, and drew her forth toward him. Her feet now weightlessly suspended over the tables edge. Glittering rays of sunlight illuminated through the curtains, catching the speckles of green hiding in the eyes she stared hungrily into. The demanding, heated cosmic pull his body exuded excited Whitleigh more than any desire she had ever known for a man. She withheld a giggle, knowing breakfast every morning seated at this now tarnished kitchen table would never be the same.

Anxious for a quick taste of her pink folds, Tommy kneeled face-to-face with his warm breakfast. Fuck that gritty, bland protein shake he had in the blender at his own house, he thought. Whitleigh was more his flavor. Her hips bucked seductively when the vicious laps of his tongue separated her lips to prime her with another layer of wetness. Delight and orgasm poked her nauseous belly like a prodding finger. She grimaced, but welcomed every nibble of his lips over her blossoming bulb.

“Upstairs, Tommy… let’s go upstairs.” The volume of her needful pants echoed off the hollow ceilings, and she feared their elicit noises would stumble upon the ears of her hopefully sleeping son just down the hall. It took all her mighty efforts to piece together a sentence amongst Tommy’s feasting murmurs smashed between her thighs. The hum, and suckling sounds of him devouring her sopping mound hypnotized her wholly. His touch would be burned there at the most private corner of her body forever.

“I can’t make it that far, Whitleigh baby. I gotta have you. Now. Here, bite down on this to keep quiet.” Tommy tossed her the tee he had discarded, and chuckled. Relishing in the fact that he had her body running on amped speed. She nearly lost all control when he caught a stray trickle of her juices escaping from the side of his mouth with the tip of his thumb, and sucked it dry.

He clung to his thick erection, and lead himself to her steaming entrance, teasing her with slow in and outs. He felt her deep, and so satisfyingly warm squeezes twitch around him, already milking forth his first release with a female in months. He hadn’t really had time for a hookup lately, and thinking about the filth that he typically attracted only made want to down capsize a bottle of narcotics.  

The angsty thoughts that had always swam in his mind suddenly fled when he admired Whitleigh’s blissfully reddened cheeks, and rosy, swollen lips gaped open with the sound of his name. She was reeling him in, damning his demons back to the hell they came from, and shocking his soul back to life, and she had no idea.

He gripped her forcefully by the hips to secure a steady rhythm so her breasts would continue that perfectly timed, spellbinding bounce. He didn’t want to split her painfully in two, but the faster he lunged inside her, the more he could feel the rough flickerings of a hard onslaught approaching.

“More. More.” She read his mind with expert timing. “More!”

The legs of her antique table scuffed and creaked against the floor below them, and Whitleigh wondered whether the weathered wood was a match for Tommy Conlon. She knew Cole would be stirring soon, but she needed to feel this way, in this moment with Tommy, for hours before it would ever be enough. He brushed, and touched her lips with his fingers, grazing her cheeks thoughtfully. His face nuzzled the tips of her nipples, and his lashes tickled them to an even higher peak while his two-day old scruff chapped her sensitive skin. Whitleigh wanted to feel the sweat of his hard-work fall from his perspiring brow and leave his scent on her like a dirty secret.

She hinted sparks flying inside her belly, instigating the release ready to reach the surface. Every raw, barely noticeable taste of delicious pain that came with his every lunge kidnapped her further towards the explosion of orgasm. A pulsating vein in Tommy’s neck protruded from his straining, broad neck and she sensed he was holding back his own ending for her sake.

“Tommy, I’m close. Really… really close.” She whispered, nearly biting her own tongue between gnashed teeth.

He closed his eyes, his back now standing straight to give her a hearty, heavenly view of his tattooed pecks, and insultingly large shoulders. His harsh sucks of air, and vice-grip squeezes on the bone of her hips gave her the push she needed to climb the summit. Using the shirt she still held onto, Whitleigh quickly shoved the cotton between her jaws to absorb her curdling screams. Her eyes watered beneath sealed lids, tears dripping from the corners, and Tommy covered his own mouth muffling what was the most beautiful portrayal of climax she had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

“Now, I already won Cole over, we know. So, what’s that verdict you were talking about earlier, huh?” Tommy suggested.

Hoping not to offend him with her abrupt dismissal, and nixing of post-cuddle, she stole a fast kiss from him as she hopped from the table to dress. He rubbed over her bare backside once more before she stepped into her bottoms, then shooed her down the hall, understanding the importance of her motherly duties. He speedily decked himself in his own shed clothes, and placed the kitchen back to it’s original tidy state before the observant young boy came for his breakfast.

Whitleigh came leisurely down the hall moments later, holding the hand of a slightly disorientated blonde boy who smiled ear-to-ear once realizing his new best friend Tommy was seated at his kitchen table. He climbed into the empty chair next to Tommy where his booster seat waited, eager to chat all about the things they had seen while on their morning stroll. Whitleigh stirred the batter of chocolate chip pancakes near the stove, stealing smiley glances at Tommy when Cole was caught up in one of his stories.

 As Tommy watched the wild-eyed kid stutter and sling his busy hands throughout the air, pretending his fork was a spaceship. All the while also falling in love with the big-hearted, slightly bashful, head-spinningly beautiful woman across the room. He had never known true family in his entire life. But silently observing the lazy comfort he felt of that Saturday morning with Cole, and Whitleigh, he decided it was worth the wait.

  TAGS: @eap1935 @torialeysha

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[alitheamateur]

Some unexpected auditory inspiration for my Rumor oneshot with Tommy Conlon ❤️

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