Alfie Solomons x Shelby! reader
Warnings: soft! alfie, a lot of smut, the whole secret relationship trope
Request: more secret relationship with alfie and shelby sis please
word count: 2.7k
just some cute (and smutty) moments with our boy alfie and y/n shelby :")
Alfie treasures these moments.
The ones where he's able to be vulnerable, so completely free of responsibility – and they all happen with you. His hand plays with your fingers, mindlessly twirling the gold band that is around your ring finger. His wife.
"I don't want to take it off," your soft voice filled his ears – a sigh pushing past your lips, as you lifted your head off his bare chest.
"Yer' brothers will kill me if they knew," he muttered back, voice low. He hated this; the constant reminder in the back of both your minds that if your older brothers found out about what the two of you did in secret the results would be disastrous.
Threading your fingers through his, you shift so your entire body was resting on-top of Alfie's bare one. A gentle smile graced his usually harsh features as he ran his hand through your hair; moving it to cup your cheek as you leant into his touch.
"I'm your wife," you beamed and you looked so adorable that Alfie swore his heart almost leapt out of his chest. "Can you believe that, Alf?"
He chuckled, chest rumbling under your palm. "Yeah, love. I can."
Knowing that words wouldn't be enough to express how much love you held for your husband in that moment, you pressed your lips to his. His beard tickled against your cheeks, causing you to smile through the kiss; Alfie reciprocating the action as he sat up, shifting so you were straddling him.
"'m gonna fuck you again," he laughed against your skin as he pressed kisses down your neck, causing you to stifle your own giggles into the crook of his neck.
It didn't take long for Alfie's hand to find it's way in-between your thighs that were spread over his lap. You relish in the feeling, his thumb rubbing small circles against your swollen clit as his index and middle fingers enter you – soft sounds leaving your mouth in melodies that Alfie swears he could listen to every day.
A soft "shit" flew past Alfie's lips when you ran a thumb over his tip, pumping him a few times before you lifted yourself from Alfie's hand – running his length up and down your folds and with a fluent movement he was inside you – filling you completely.
With a shaky gasp you slowly began rolling your hips against Alfie's who had his eyes closed in bliss. It was erotic, sensual and you both got lost in the feeling. Rough and calloused palms on soft skin – gripping your hips that you were sure you would have marks from his fingertips there in a couple of hours.
Your hand rested against the plaster wall above both of your heads, Alfie lifting his hips to meet yours in rhythmic thrusts. Your eyes shut at the sensation, head falling against Alfie's – softly biting into his shoulder. Alfie delivered a particularly harsh thrust, hitting your that spot causing a loud cry to emit from your throat at the sensation.
"Did that feel good, eh?" He grunted into your ear, you could only nod and let out a whine as he did it again. "Yeah? Like that?"
Your legs were practically shaking as Alfie's thrusts became erratic, chasing both of your highs as you clenched around him – causing him to let out a sharp hiss.
Your skin flushed under Alfie's touch, nothing but chants of his name leaving your mouth as you came around his cock. He climaxes a couple of seconds after you, your body falling against his as you both tried to steady your breathing – reeling in the aftershocks of ecstasy.
Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Alfie gently tilted your chin to look at you – a lazy, adoring smile gracing his features.
"I love you, Mrs. Solomons."
He did. Truly.
~~~~~~~
Your left hand felt bare as you walked to the distillery.
Alfie had left the house just past noon – getting ready for the meeting that you were both required to attend with your brothers, which meant that you had to take your wedding ring off so they wouldn't find out.
The walk from the apartment that Tommy had set you up with in London, when he gave you the job of taking care of business in Camden Town for him, was a mere five-minute walk to Alfie's work.
Upon reaching the bakery, you gave a nod to Ollie who ushered you inside, allowing you to walk straight to Alfie's office. Not bothering with knocking, you entered the room, Alfie's head instantly lifting to see you – a bright smile growing on his features.
Your eyes roamed his figure, the way his white shirt tightened around his biceps as he tossed the paper he was reading aside – taking his legs down from the desk.
"You're here early," he grinned, beckoning you closer by curling his hand towards you. With a smile as wide as his, you walked around to his side of the desk; perching yourself on the edge right in front of him.
"Thought I'd have you for myself for a little while before my brothers arrive," you teased, revelling in the feeling of his hands running up your thighs.
"Yeah, you didn't have enough of me this morning?"
Snickering, you leaned forward to capture him in a kiss – pausing when you were but mere millimetres apart.
"Not nearly enough," you whispered before finally meeting his lips with yours. "How long do we have until they arrive?"
"I'd give it a good twenty-minutes, right. What do you have planned?"
"I want you to fuck me in your office, Mr. Solomons," you felt Alfie's hands tighten their hold on you at your words. "Right here on your desk. Bend me over and take me as yours."
"Right, yeah, well I can't disappoint the missus now, can I?"
Before you knew it, your pretty blue skirt was bunched up around your hips, Alfie's hand on the back of your neck keeping you in place as he fucked you over his desk.
Your mouth was parted as loud moans left your lips, gently wrapping his hand around your throat – Alfie pulled you up so your back was flushed against his chest; fingers tilting your head in his direction.
"You look so pretty like this," he grunted, his thrusts relentless.
Alfie was fucking you so well that you couldn't form any words other than his name and the occasional 'fuck' – causing Alfie to lean down, whispering a "watch your fucking language" in your ear; the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure.
Your hands could barely hold you up, as you reached your high – Alfie reaching his only a few seconds after you. Alfie was gentle as he pulled out of – his hands carefully pushing your skirt back down as you tried to regulate your breathing.
"One day, right, I swear that one day yer' going to kill me with your wild Shelby genetics," Alfie snickered as you turned around with a bright smile on your face – his hand gently brushing away strands of your hair that stuck to your flushed cheeks.
"Not if my brothers kill you first," you snickered, rushing around to the other end of the desk when knocks on the door filled the air around you. "Which they might do if they catch you with your pants still down."
Alfie could only burst into genuine laughter as he pulled his pants up in a haste, shaking his head at how much he loved you.
~~~~~~~
Music was the last thing Alfie expected to hear on a Sunday morning.
Nonetheless, there was definitely music coming from the parlour of his house downstairs and his dog, Cyril, who he was certain fell asleep next to him last night was nowhere in sight.
With an exasperated groan, Alfie rubbed his eyes but he was in no rush to get out of bed – knowing that if he was in any imminent danger the intruder definitely wouldn't be playing 'The Boy I Love' as loud as the record players volume would go.
Clambering out of bed, Alfie made quick work of getting clothed – running his hand over his unruly ginger beard that definitely deserved some time, love and care. With heavy steps, he made his way out of his room and down the flight of stairs – stopping on the last step at the sight before him.
There you were, like a fucking angel, clothed in nothing but one of his white shirts and a pair of stockings – dancing around the parlour, while singing along with the song with Cyril at your feet.
He chuckles and lets a wide smile grow on his face as he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching in amusement and all he could think was; this is it.
This was his happy ending.
He watches as you twirl in circles while singing into the spatular in your grasp, before your eyes catch sight of his figure and you stop – almost tripping over your two-left feet.
"Alf!" You beam, before rushing over to him and grab his hand – pulling him into the middle of the room. "Dance with me?"
Your words are coated with honey – almost as sweet as you and Alfie can't find any reason as to say no. So with a nod in confirmation, he watches as you rush to change the record to a slow song before you slide over to him with giggles falling past your pretty lips.
Your arms wrap around his neck and his slither to rest on your hips as he begins to sway you both on the spot. He leans his head down to rest his forehead against yours causing both your eyes to shut and he just knows that this is all he wants for the rest of his life. All he needs is you – and Cyril – and anywhere would feel like home.
You are home.
~~~~~~~
"Alf, can you read to me?"
Alfie raises a brow at your question as he looks down at your head in his lap – his hand playing with your hair pausing mid-twirl. He blinks once as you hold up the book in your hands, an adorable pout on your lips.
"Why?" He questions, instinctively taking the book and flipping to the page you had dog-tagged.
"Because I'm getting sleepy and can't focus on the words," you yawn, the tiny sound causing his heart to flutter. "And your voice is soothing."
Alfie bops your nose before he shifts so you were sitting – moving you under his left arm as your palm rests on his chest. Pulling on his glasses that were hung around his neck, Alfie clears his throat as he begins to read from where you left off – immersing himself in the tale of The Great Gatsby.
He briefly pauses every few sentences to read over little markings you had made on things you liked or hated about a certain quirk the characters had or something interesting about the plot. Pretty soon he had finished the chapter, tagging the new page before shutting the book before looking down at your sleeping figure.
Your hand had formed into a tight fist, clenching the thin fabric of his shirt between your fingers as your lips parted and tiny snores flew past them. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Alfie takes his time to shift your sleeping body until he was laying down on the lounge with you on his chest.
He falls asleep not even a minute later – arm wrapped protectively around you.
~~~~~~~
Alfie might've disguised his distillery as a bakery – but the man had never spent more than five minutes in an actual kitchen. So when you had suggested baking a pie together, he instantly knew it was going to be disastrous.
He could vividly remember the tales that your aunt Polly had told him of your unfortunate kitchen endeavours. The older woman being the only one in the Shelby family that you had informed of your relationship and while she was whole-heartedly against it at first, you had convinced her to have dinner with you and Alfie one night, which she reluctantly accepted on account of your tears.
By the end of the night she was sending Alfie home with a kiss on his cheek and promise to come over for dinner again the same time next week – which he did. Eventually those dinners lead to Polly being the only one in your family who was there to witness your marriage – promising to keep the union secret until you were both ready to face your brothers.
"No Alf you've got to mix the wet ingredients into the dry," you pushed his hands away from the bowl before pausing, your eyebrows furrowing. "Or is it the dry with the wet?"
"Does it matter, aye?" Alfie questioned you, wrapping his arms around your waist – resting his head in the crook of your neck. "Won't it still end up the same?"
"I don't know!" You stubbornly huffed causing Alfie to laugh before he twirled you around in his arms, pinning you between his body and the counter top.
"Why didn't you ask Pol for help? Yeah, I think she would've been more help that yer' husband in this situation."
Your laughter rings through the kitchen as you began fiddling with the buttons of his vest, he grins a little before beginning to pepper kisses down your neck to your collar bone – his fingers pushing down the straps to your dress.
"Alf-" you whispered as his hands gripped under your thighs to lift you onto the counter. "This isn't very hygienic."
"The kitchen, yeah, is for food to be made and served right?" You nod to his question, tilting your head as he begins to bunch your dress up your hips. "I'm just going to eat the meal that I'm given."
He could only cockily grin as you pushed him down onto his knees like he was at church – and by all things Holy was he going to worship you.
~~~~~~~
The beach in Margate always had a calming sensation on Alfie.
He loved to just walk along the soft sand, letting the crisp wind prick at his skin as Cyril ran a few meters in-front of him. But now he loved it even more because he got to experience it with you.
His hand held yours as you both walked along the shoreline, the sounds of waves crashing and the occasional ship horn in the distance filling the atmosphere.
Every few steps you would stop in your steps, causing Alfie to stand idly as you reached down to pick up a new shell – excitedly showing it to him before placing it in your purse. He couldn't complain, not when you looked so endearing while showing them off, but he still couldn't help but question you.
"What are yer' going to do with all those fuckin' shells?"
Resting your head against his bicep, you giggled as Cyril ran past you before you responded to his question. "I'm going to make a necklace."
He smiles and it's soft and gentle – two feelings that people would never believe Alfie Solomons could express.
"What are yer' going to where a shell necklace with, eh?" His nose crinkles as he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer to him.
"It's not going to be for me," you tell him confidently, eyes meeting his. "It's for you."
"Me?" He chortles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "Do yer' want people to think I've gone soft?"
He watches as a small frown creases your pretty features before you pull away from him – a bright smile replacing your glower as you take running off after Cyril.
And the truth is that Alfie had gone soft. Because later that night Alfie sits at the dining table going through deals and contracts, his eyes floating over to your figure on the other end – watching as you made the necklace that he gratefully accepts once you complete it.
He never takes it off after he see's the way your eyes light up and feels how much love you hold for him as you pull him into a passionate kiss. Because in all honesty, Alfie Solomon's was putty in your hands and would do anything you asked him to just to make you happy.
You were his little slice of Heaven and he would never get enough of you.