‘I love Tom Hardy.’

Aka;Any of his characterscan bend me over any day of the week and completely destroy my insides. I am gagging for it.

“I want a baby.” Text ( Part 5 )

John Fitzgerald & Tommy Conlon

Part 1 Part 2Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Not requested! Just did it anyway

———————————————————————

John Fitzgerald

—

Tommy Conlon

———————————————————————

A/N : The first text is taken from the original creator of this thread and the text after is created by me to fit each character!

Lost

Drabble to try and get me going!

4.6k words

Warnings : sexual assault, sex, prostitution, swearing!

again!! i used Google translate for the French, so I apologize if it’s incorrect / and I didn’t put translations because reader isn’t aware of what they’re saying! so if you want translation feel free to ask!

———————————————————————

Every muscle in your body was tight and sore. The strain that had been put on your worn out frame had been enough to crush you four times over. Your digits were stiffly curled around the thin pelt underneath you. Your toes ached under the pressure of your curled form, knees drawn into your chest and cheek halfway off of the overused pelt, laying partially in the dirt and melting snow. Every heavy exhale you sent free caused wisps of your hair to lift under the strength of them before slowly floating back down to lay against your rosy cheek. “Okay, get off me.” You ground out to the man. His limp, bare chest was rested against your exposed back. He sneered, brows twitching in the slightest before he drew his cock out of you and then began to push himself up and on to his feet.

Over your shoulder you could hear the sound of his trousers, the jingling of his belt as he began to refasten it and make himself more presentable. He clasped the buttons closed on the front of his shirt before retrieving his holster from one of the nearby branches and reattaching it to his person. “Toujours un plaisir.” The man chortled, using the toe of his boot to push a canteen of water in your direction. “Buvez. Le prochain homme arrivera sous peu.” He teased.

When the man departed, you mustered up all the remaining strength in your body before slowly sitting up. You were always clueless when they gave you departing words, but they each received the same scowl regardless of what their words meant. Reaching for the lousy clothing that had been given to you when they’d first snagged you, you began to drag the thin cloth over your head and then the mangled coat. Once dressed, you reached for the canteen in your stuff, shaky grip and took a few sips. The bottle was then discarded in your lap. You folded your arms over your chest and fixated your gaze on the dancing fire about fifteen feet away. Getting up to warm your bones sounded delightful, but making yourself present under the stare of all the Frenchmen sounded awful. Every man would be reminded that they could easily have their fill of a woman if they wanted, you were of easy use. With that thought in mind, you curled into yourself and let the painful bite of the cold winter night have it’s way with you until one of the other man decided they’d like to too. You closed your eyes. This was how it had been for weeks, and you were sure that this was how it would be until they decided to dispose of you.

A week later.

“Y/n.” One of the men towered over your slumbering form. “Oi.” He shook your hip with the toe of his boot. “Wake up.” He growled quietly, doing his best to avoid waking any of the other gents.

You groggily lifted your head from the pelt, blurry eyes settling on the man’s face as you stared up at him. “Mh?” You groaned out tiredly, head already threatening to fall back against the soft fur beneath you.

“Morning, girl. I’m awake,” He ushered to his crotch. “And so’s he.” His English was probably the best out of everyone here. It wasn’t terrific by any means, but he managed just a little bit every now and then. Without any hesitation, he dropped his fingers to his trousers and began to pry them open. The belt clinked with every scrape of the metal before the suede hit the damp fabric of his trousers. He dropped to his knees beside your twisted legs before lazily beginning to pry them open. You’d stop putting up a fight a long time ago, so you let out a few unhappy grumbles before tipping your head to the side to try and get comfy again.

“Pierre.” A sudden voice sliced through the cold air and hit your ears. It was almost enough to make you groan out again in distaste. You were so tired. “Il n'y a pas de temps pour jouer avec elle aujourd'hui. Nous devons passer à autre chose.”

You opened one eye, peering up at the bloke that towered over the two of you. Again, you were clueless over what was being said, but when Pierre rolled his eyes and immediately began to refasten his trousers, you let out a small sigh of relief at being left alone. Though, that relief was short-lived. The man that had just disrupted Pierre was now gripping your wrist and hauling you up and off of the pelt. “Bouge toi.” He grumbled. His eyes were dark, even as the sun weaved through the shaking twigs to illuminate his brown orbs. “Bouge toi!” He repeated when you made no movement at all, you merely stood there, staring up at him. He gave you a small nudge, pushing you in the direction of the other men.

Several of them were mounting horses or tying pelts and supplies on the trusty steeds. With a few empty blinks, you hauled your heavy legs in the direction of the animals. Crusted remnants of sleep clung to the corners of your tired eyes. You absently pressed your fingers against the rough spots, dragging them away from their current placement and flicking them into the snow below. “Am i riding a horse?” You spoke up.

Each man took a turn ogling you when you voiced your inquiry, unsure of how to respond. Horse was the only familiar word in your sentence. Pierre grunted, pointing toward a white horse with black speckles. “With me.” He said shortly. The heavy intake of air you drew into your lungs was released noisily, powerfully. Since being with the Frenchmen, you’d only had to move campsites a handful of times, only when it got dangerous because of the weather or impossible to make a fire because of the wind. Indians weren’t an issue for the surrounding men, for the last time any had come along, some sort of deal had been struck between the blokes. You didn’t know what had been said since not a drop of their arrangement was in a language you understood, but it didn’t really matter to you. At least they weren’t trying to harm you.

It took another fifteen or so minutes before the entirety of the group was ready to get a move on. Men lifted themselves on top of horses and those that chose to travel on foot were working as if they themselves were mules, carrying heavy pelts on their backs and towing along bags full of supplies - food, extra clothing. This group had a strange amount of belongings, but seeing as they’d raided your home, you could only assume they’d done that before and after to others.

Riding with Pierre wasn’t as annoying as you thought it would be. Because he couldn’t make passes at you and flirt for the whole ride, it was relatively silent. Occasionally he’d offer you a drink of water or crane his neck around to ensure that you were still in place on the horse, but apart from that he kept to himself.

“Descendez des chevaux. Il y a des hommes devant.” One of the men on foot whispered, extended his arm in the air and holding his palm open wide to signal for everyone to halt. He was at the head of the group, thick fingers curling around the rope attached to the pelts before he discarded his things on the ground. The snow crunched dully beneath the impact of the man’s belongings before he slowly reached into the back of his trousers. His dirty fingers curled around the handle of his gun, slowly withdrawing it from its nestled position before he laid the long end of his rifle on his knee and lined up his shot.

“Wait.” One of the men hissed. It was the only word you recognized and it immediately caught your attention. You extended your neck, a poor attempt to try and see past the trees and in the direction that the man was aiming. What did he see?

Whatever it was, it had seen him first.

A loud shot rang out, echoing through the cold air. The man at the front collapsed in the snow, a red pool forming beneath his head almost immediately. You gasped in surprise, wild eyes flickering from left to right. You had no time to even react, the horse you were perched on reacted first. The animal lifted himself on to his hind legs, sending you and Pierre into the snow. You coughed out sharply as your back collided with the hard ground. There wasn’t enough snow in this area to help prevent any pain from your fall. You choked out a raspy, “Ow.” But the surrounding Frenchmen were more worried about themselves. They yelled, shouted, and ran, desperately trying to seek cover and line up their own shots. Those that weren’t fighting were trying to get their belongings to safety.

Shot after shot rang out and you continued to lay there in the cold snow, allowing the falling flakes to settle in your messy strands and stick to your eyebrows. You stared up at the clear sky, watching as birds soared overhead, leaving the nearby trees to seek peace and quiet elsewhere. Oh, how you wished you could fly.

“Quitte la! Quitte la! On peut trouver une autre femme!” It was the last thing you heard from the Frenchmen before the sound of horse hooves retreating pounded against your ears and departing footsteps. It was quiet for only a few moments before new voices rang out. English almost sounded foreign.

“Oi, there’s a girl!” A voice called out.

“Grab her!” Another demanded.

A bloke, the one that must’ve spotted you, set his legs on either side of your hips before leaning over your body and snagging the front of your fur coat. With ease, he jerked you up and off of the ground before immediately beginning to haul you off in the very direction that the Frenchmen wouldn’t dare tread. You stumbled over fallen bodies and tripped over dropped supplies.

“What the devil was she doing out there with them?” Someone inquired harshly.

“Probably one of ‘em.” One sneered. “They’ll come back for her. We can’t keep her around.”

So many voices, and so many men. You struggled to look between each one that spoke up, so instead stared at the snow as your feet sunk deeper and deeper as the patches grew thicker and thicker.

“Girl.” A man spoke up. His tone was much softer than the others. “What of the Frenchmen you were traveling with?”

Silence from you.

“See, captain. She’s one of them. Doesn’t even know English. I say we kill her. Them French, they killed all are people. Why should they get her back?”

Captain Henry planted his damp boots firmly on the mushy gravel beneath him. His blue eyes were calm and cool as they raked over your features. Curiosity swam in his stomach and uncertainty raced along his rigid spine. “Girl.” He tried again, paying no mind to any other words spewed.

“What of them?” You finally spoke up. The quietness of your tone warned the men to tread carefully. You held all the information they needed to know and by upsetting you, they’d learn nothing. It was clear, when you lifted your watery eyes to the Captain and sank your teeth so roughly into your trembling bottom lip, that you were lost and no doubt had been for a long while.

“Why were you with them?” He tried again.

The man at your side adjusted his hold on your coat and with a firmness that the gents didn’t expect, you rotated and pushed him off of you. Bridger stumbled in the slightest, his brows arching for half a second before he pulled his hands back to himself and retreated.

“I had no choice.” Your answers were short and sweet. The captain didn’t blame you, but each simple answer you gave spurred another ten questions.

“Why?” He tried again.

“They killed my family.” You murmured.

“When?” He rubbed his teeth together.

Your eyes glazed over with annoyance. “Does it matter?”

The captain grunted. “It does.”

You pressed the tip of your tongue against your cheek before allowing your eyes to drag along the length of the men. There were probably forty frenchmen and only about ten or eleven men in front of you. “I don’t remember.” You said flatly. “They raided my home. Killed women. Children. Men. Stole the animals, our pelts, our food. Thought they were gonna kill me,” You let your sentence trail off.

“And yet, here you are. Why?” The captain grunted. His long legs carried him toward a nearby log. He lowered himself down and on to the oak, dusting off his trousers before he planted his elbows on his knees and scrutinized you.

“Because men will use anyone for just about anything if they feel powerful enough. And I suppose that a little lonely something like me didn’t pose much of a threat.” You were beating around the bush, and you could see the questioning tints in everyone’s gazes. They all knew what you were talking about, but wanted to hear that said explicitly before making assumptions.

The captain didn’t speak this time. A younger boy did. “Sex?” He asked. His simple question received several pointed looks and you, you gave him the cruelest of all.

“Look. Can I go?” You said firmly.

“And where on earth,” A low rumble of a voice raced through the air. It practically pounded on your eardrums. “do you think you’re gonna go? Said so yourself, your family’s all gone.”

The soles of your boots crushed the snow beneath them as you rotated to face the newest addition to the group. Your accusing eyes found the man with ease, stood off to the side all on his own with his thick fingers tracing the length of his rifle. He had a bandana wrapped around the front of his head and his lengthy brown strands lifted with every blow of wind.

“Fitzgerald,surprisingly, is right.” The Captain confirmed. “You’ve got no food. No horse. And no help. You don’t even know what direction you’d be headed in. And I promise you, if you stay with our group, the only thing you’ll be forced to do is help us with the heavy lifting. Pelts. Food. Supplies. Your services will not be required elsewhere.”

John smirked slyly. Although it was awful to hear that you’d been forced to be physical with the frenchmen, he certainly wouldn’t complain if you were to offer him those same services. He rubbed his teeth together, blue eyes traveling from the stream in the distance to latch back on to you as you spoke again.

“What’ll you do if I run?” The question was airy, curious. The man had fair points and you were grateful for that, but at the same time, you didn’t trust that all the men here would keep their hands to themselves.

The Captain shook his head. “You won’t.” And with that, he stood and began to rally the group. He instructed that everyone was to search the dead bodies for lootables and necessities alike. What couldn’t be of use could be pawned and what couldn’t be pawned could no doubt be eaten or worn.

Fitzgerald closed in on you shortly after the Captain was finished speaking. The heavy thud of his footsteps hit your ears like a drumstick would a drum. You didn’t budge from your spot, instead you kept your eyes fixated on the surrounding men as they began to scatter.

“Now listen, I don’t know what the captain was thinking, telling you you’re not required and whatnot to take care of our needs. Fucker’s married, that’s why he don’t give a damn about offering you money or pelts or warmth to keep us warm.” He came to a stop when his chest almost grazed your back. “I ain’t seen a woman in a few weeks, haven’t been touched by one in months. Now, I’d be willing to give you quite a few of my pelts if you’d be willing to show me what it was you were doing with those Frenchmen.”

Your jaw popped under the clench of your jaw, teeth creating a sharp scraping sound each time you ground them together. The Frenchmen were rough and angry lovers. And by the sound of it, this bloke would probably be the same. You turned around to face him after a few moments had passed. At least this one was offering to pay. “How many pelts?”

Fitzgerald sneered down at you. “Three.” He said flatly. He had more than he needed. “How’s that sound?”

You rubbed your teeth together harder. It was cold and he looked like he’d be able to warm you up. And pelts, you could sell eventually and then you’d have enough money to find yourself a spot to live. Course, you’d need more than just three pelts, but maybe he’d want this to be a reoccurring thing, or you could offer the same deal to the other men. You tried your best to swallow the gulp in your tight throat before moving your hand to lay against the curve of your waist. Sleeping with men wasn’t ideal, it made you feel disgusting. But perhaps you could do it for just a while longer, and with these men you could have some ground rules. Like no scratching, biting, or abusing.

“Deal.” You told him softly. The shaky inhale you pulled past your dry, pink lips managed to pull his attention to the chapped layer of skin.

“Well then,” He moved his heavy gaze to the busy men before looking back down at you. “let’s go.”

Surprised internally but bored externally, you scoffed out a soft, “Now?”

“What better time?” Fitzgerald barked out. His hand lifted, easily curling around the front of your coat before he hauled you against him and then rotated to drag you off and away from the peering eyes of the other men.

Glass frowned deeply, his eyes meeting Henry’s. “Fitz took the girl.”

Henry scowled. “I figured he would. But I made it clear, she’s under no obligation.”

Glass rolled his eyes. He and Fitz never saw eye to eye, they hated each other to put it simply. How on earth could a girl find a bloke like that attractive enough to shag? Even if it was for payment.

Fitzgerald led you down the icy slope and toward a small gathering of rocks, surrounded by an endless amount of trees. “Will this do?” He inquired, already beginning to peel off his heavy coat. He laid the fabric out and over a flat area of rocks before directing his stare toward you. He highly doubted that location would be something you’d complain over, it wasn’t as if there were some luxurious beds just laying around in the wilderness.

You licked your lips slowly before hoisting yourself up and on top of the rock. Settling down relatively quickly, your cold, nimble fingers slipped toward the coat you wore, pushing it off of your shoulders so you had double the padding to lay on. Fitzgerald followed you up and on top of the rock, his eyes growing darker as a possessive tint took over.

“I’ve never paid a woman for sex.” He stated, already beginning to lower his hands down to lay against the pelt on either side of your head.

“And I’ve never taken pelts as payment. Usually food or water.” You informed him before slowly shuffling your weight against the rough rock.

“Ah, you’ve made an exception for me. Why’s that? Do you find me attractive?” He was cocky already and you hated that you rather enjoyed it. Giving an effective eye roll, you slipped your hands between your body and his own. Fisting your hands in your thin dress, you began to drag the material up and along your thighs, exposing them to the man and the winter air. “Not really proper attire for being outside in this weather.” He commented, studying every inch of your flesh as it was revealed to his hungry eyes. “I’ll give you a pair of trousers, but what more will you give me?”

You sucked in a long breath, the bones of your knees finding the sides of his hips. “I’ll let you kiss me. I don’t ordinarily let men do that.” Perhaps that wasn’t much, he may call you foolish and scoff at that being a fair deal. But John merely fixed his heavy stare on your face and gave a soft nod. He hadn’t even been considering kissing you, he figured this was a pretty quick ordeal - fill you, fuck you, leave you. He supposed that hadn’t changed, only now it would be a little more intimate with a liplock.

You dragged your tongue over your teeth before moving your hand along his waist and down to the front of his trousers. “Well, get on with it then.” You murmured. “I’d imagine it’s been a long time for you and I don’t expect you to waste time.”

Fitzgerald gave a short nod. Falling back on his knees in an upright position, he swatted your hands away and got to work on his trousers. The front unbuttoned swiftly and the zipper practically slid south as he pulled the fastening undone. He wiggled his slacks down and around his knees, not even taking the time to do the same to his underwear before he leaned back over your form. You assisted him with the final article of clothing, fisting your hands in his undergarments so you could drag them down his pale thighs to join his bunched trousers.

John adjusted his knees and pulled himself in closer to you. His hand lifted to his mouth, cupping beneath his chin so that he could spit into his palm. You didn’t miss the light twitch of the corner of his lips, a notion you would’ve missed if you hadn’t been staring at how full those things were. He lowered his hand back to your body, not even hesitating before he began to smear his saliva along your slit. He didn’t care about foreplay, but he also didn’t want this to be painful and uncomfortable for you. Your cheeks immediately burned red from his touch. None of the Frenchmen had taken the time to do that.

He hoarsely cleared his throat before taking his shaft in hand and beginning to guide himself forward. The slick surface he’d created immediately made it easier for his tip to push past your entrance. He filled you much easier than any other man had and he pulled a reaction from you that they hadn’t received either. One of your hands immediately lifted to clamp on to his shoulder and your other slid to his throat, laying there as you relished in the arousal that began to swim inside of you. Although this sex was being paid for, it didn’t feel so forced like all the others had. And this was a bit of a bonus, Fitzgerald wasn’t ugly.. not in the slightest.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to be gentle with you.” The man on top of you whispered out, shaking you from your thoughts of admiration. Ecstasy dripped in his words and desire swam in his squinted gaze.

“No,” You murmured out. “just like I’m not expecting you to run your mouth the entire time either.” Your snippy retorts and quick little comebacks were managing to pull the faintest smirk from the man.

“Alright then.” He said flatly before moving his hands to your waist. His touch was gentle, though he’d said he wouldn’t be, and his hands felt big enough to swallow your whole waist. You spread your legs a little wider, inevitably waiting for him to begin thrusting. It didn’t take much longer, you felt the way he drew his hips back and the shift of his knees before he thrusted himself back forward. Your body jolted beneath the first buck of his hips, and he was already gawking at the bounce of your breasts. You let out a broken whimper and he repeated the exact same motion. Hauling his hips back, he shoved them back forward and steadily began to buck into you. Your insides clenched around him eagerly, the moisture effectively helping to make you feel much better than any other time. You gasped out shakily each time he filled you, slender fingers digging roughly into the rock. One one hand, your nail beds were threatening to chip under the sheer force of you clawing at the stone. And on the other, John’s skin gave way beneath the force of your nails, leaving half moons etched into his flesh as your body rocked beneath his own.

“Fuck me.” He groaned out breathily. Every shaky exhale he let free hit your lips hotly. You gasped beneath him with every strong thrust and he groaned and grunted, watching as your features twisted. He liked to think he was the only man able to get this reaction from you, and though that was a long shot - it was true. John lowered his forearm and placed it above your head, using his other to maintain his weight and balance, preventing himself from crushing you as he steadily rammed his hips against your own. One of your legs curled around his waist on its own accord, helping you to selfishly lift your hips just enough to send his cock driving directly into a delicious spot inside you. His toned, clothes chest rubbed against your own, and you could see his greedy eyes desperately waiting for your breasts to become exposed. It was far too cold for that though, perhaps laying in front of a fire or the safety of a cave, but it was entirely too vulnerable on the rock for your bare skin to be revealed that much. You’d catch your death, and he’d already decided that this was not going to be a one time thing.

Your head lifted off of the rock and your chapped lips found his pink, just as dry, ones. You kissed him like your life depended on it, forcing him to swallow every yelp and whine that built in your throat. He devoured every sound and made you do just the same, filling your mouth with every noise of ecstasy that tried to fill the cold air. He felt surprisingly hot, pounding into you mercilessly was making his insides burn. A part of him felt as if he may overheat, but the noises he was driving out of you were enough to spur him on.

He figured, in that moment, if it was three pelts to sleep with you and he had so many to sell, that you were just as good a consumer as anyone else. The only difference was that with you he was getting sex, with others he’d get money. This was somehow so much more worth it. He kept going on these fucking hunts because he was trying to find some sort of life for himself. He was just aimlessly living. Just letting his life run its course. And it was so boring. But this.. this was rather exciting. He silently wondered if he’d even have to pay every time. He was willing, but he was sure he was going to want you more times than he had enough pelts for.

He let out a broken growl and forced himself into you harder, faster, fucking you well and truly forcefully enough to almost send you falling off the rock. But his arms had you trapped, you weren’t going anywhere unless you wanted to. And he could tell, as you arched and bucked and begged, that you were doing just fine beneath him.

———————————————————————

okay!! so! i went a completely different route than i originally intended to in my head, but im not unhappy with this one i just need to do some drabbles to get back into the flow of things (-: i hope you guys enjoy! and i was considering doing a part 2, but it really just depends if people like this or not! OK, ‘NUFF RAMBLING <3

Tags:

@lothiriel9@potter-solomons@ellar21@liesandghosts@eastenderkray@innerpaperexpertcloud@strangunddurm@hylianhighlander@misselsbells06@mollybegger-blog@solomons-finest-rum@ghost-of-student-sufferings@jarvisrocks@caffinated-tree@crownthecaylin@enchantingkryptoniteruins@rvnclwreads@rikki-b-lake