#I’d chew c! Tommy up and spit him out

[imsosocold]

The Dichotomy of Disliking Characters:  

While c!tommy went through a lot of terrible things he also did a lot fucked up stuff not properly addressed by the narrative ( c!dream is  like double this ugh)  such as his treatment of Jack, the torture he put Fundy through, the  possessiveness of  Tubbo, him threatening to kill a child out of jealously, etc. This lack of  resolution makes it hard to like his character combined with the fandom’s tendency to similarly brush over his flaws and woobify him.                                 Oh, c!Sam? Ew, he’s a cop, fuck him. 

[alitheamateur]

Harley & Heat Lightening

A Tommy Conlon/Reader Imagine

This is just my own little guilty fantasy....

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Mentions of night terrors. I mean, I just feel like Tommy Conlon in general is a warning.

Word Count: 2,149

(Photo from Google)

The beaming white glow of a notification on the chipped screen of your phone face-up on the nightstand seeped through your closed eyelids. The chime notified of you the facts you already knew regarding a warning for heat-lightening throughout this blazing summer night. You praised the heavens for the air conditioning blaring from the vent in the corner of the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, who was seemingly missing concluding from the cool sheets on his side of the queen bed. 2:53 in the morning by the looks of the alarm clock, which meant Tommy was probably up with a nightmare again, and was roaming the house somewhere, most likely clutching a sleep aid in the form of a whiskey bottle. He had those relentless demons under control for the most part. But, you always kept a single bottle of his favorite brand tucked away for emergencies. You didn’t understand what he went through, and you certainly couldn’t cure him. So, you’d love him amply, and if he needed a swig to knock back a terrorizing flashback here and there, so be it.

You squirmed and rooted amongst the tangling wad of sheets, fluffing and flopping your pillow to seek a comfortable position in the empty bed, but it was useless. You’d worked yourself into a restless, irritable tizzy, so you decided to mosey downstairs to investigate Tommy’s state. The ribbed, white tank top belonging to the man in question fit your frame loosely, and the lightweight cotton kept you cool on nights like this. And of course, he never complained about your skimpy preference in sleep attire. You tied your hair into a floppy muddle at the top of your head so the ensuing sweat on the nape of you neck could drink in some breeze, as your bare-feet padded down the four stairs leading into the tiled kitchen. 

The hanging light above the sink which Tommy usually flicked on when he escaped the bedroom for a night cap wasn’t on, and the entire span of the lower level was pitch dark aside from the thin lines of moonlight coming thru the blinds to paint the floor.

“Tommy?” You whispered. Truthfully a bit alarmed at the bleak silence around you.

When receiving no answer, you tip-toed stealthy to the side door leading into your garage, peeping around each corner like a scared cat along the way. When you gripped the handle to pull open the door, and the yellow, dingy light of an overhanging bulb dilated your eyes contrasting the darkness, and you saw Tommy twisting a wrench somewhere on the motor of his bike, you sighed with relief.

“Hey you. I didn’t wake ya’, did I baby?” He turned at attention when the metal hinges squeaked upon your opening. Tommy sat shirtless on a scuffed stool, the wheels attached to its legs rolled him towards a toolbox to exchange out his wrench. His torso glistened in the light just so subtly, and his top lip beaded barely with sweat, which told you he must’ve escaped the bed much earlier than you discovered.

“Not at all. I just noticed you weren’t in bed, and I thought I’d come check on you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to conceal the noticeable peak of your nipple raising through the shirt you wore. It was teetering 96 degrees, and there wasn’t a single waft of wind outside, but you knew it was simply a reaction to the sight of Tommy, basted with perspiration, and smudged with motor grease. As he clanged a hammer onto some unknown piece of the motorcycle, the muscles of his back crawled and stretched beneath his suntanned skin, and the heat at your center could make this July night in Pittsburgh seem like the North Pole.

“Yeah, I uh… I couldn’t sleep. I was tossin’ and fuckin’ turnin’, so I came on out here so you could rest.”

You felt proud, and at ease that he’d chose to tinker with his motorized toy, rather than turn straight to the liquor as an outlet. The dreams, and the panic had become less present since you’d moved in permanently, and you thought maybe there was a sunny horizon in the near future. Peace for Tommy, and less worry for you.

“I know the feeling. That A/C is nice and all, but on a night this hot, nothing really keeps you comfortable enough to rest really. Whatcha workin’ on?” You inquired, lazily approaching to look in on his little project. Before you reached Tommy, you sidetracked to his work bench in the corner, clenching onto a stained, but clean rag to wipe down his dripping neck. When you patted his back, and blew cool, airy breaths under the hair that rested on his ears, Tommy huskily sighed and leaned further into your feather-like feminine touch.

“Nothin’ you’d be interested in. Just tryin’ t’ distract myself. Idle hands, y’know?”

He reached backward to clench your hand from where it rested on his hard shoulder and pulled it closer to his mouth where he could kiss your soft palm. His always moistened lips lingered, and you ran your fingers through his disheveled, musky-scented hair to relish furthermore into his touch.

“Seems like I got anotha little distract that needs my attention though, hm?”

He slothfully laid his head back to rest on your standing form behind him, and the crown of it settled perfectly between your barely shielded breasts. Tommy turned his cheek into you, nuzzling into your pert, pink bud. He remained planted in the mobile seat, but suddenly decided to roll the wheels around, circling a 180 to face you.

Your fitful, whimpering squeaks of approval made him grin callously, and he continued his works to have you panting and damp like a shameless nymph. There was nothing Tommy didn’t put his whole mind to when he wanted it, and making sure your screams were louder than the time before, was no exception.

You sat willfully onto his open lap, straddling and grinding heartily on the pulsing member inside his flattering track shorts, eliciting Tommy’s strong hands to claw at the teasing, cheeky exposure from under the hem of your nightshirt.

“Did this hot little pussy wake up lookin’ for me, huh? Had to come ‘n find me so I could help her sleep? Is that it, baby?” A thumb ghosted between your legs so he could damped it with your wetness before sliding in between his own lips.

You hadn’t come in search of a night cap in the shape of Tommy Conlon, but judging by the drenched crotch of his shorts below you, it was something you needed and didn’t know it until now.

“T…. Tommy. Wait…” you words barely resembled your own voice as you attempted to briefly protest. ��The door. We should close the garage door, Tommy.”

Doing polar opposite of your request, the seething man boldly scrunched both fists around the neckline of your white tank and ripped it brazenly in half to discard onto the mud-stained, dirty floor of the garage. Leaving you fully exposed, and speechless.

“Let ‘em see. Once you go yelpin’ and beggin’, they’re gonna have a good idea what’s goin’ on anyway, baby.”

Your nails were digging into his pecs, and you tensed your legs tighter about his waist as Tommy stood from the stool to place your naked cheeks on the padded seat of his iron horse. Tools, and gas cans clanged and toppled to the floor as he roughly kicked off his clothing, kissing you with sensual, and raunchy purpose as he did so. You were already substantially aching, and prepared to take him in, but even still Tommy squatted to greet your southern lips with his tongue.

He gently tasted you, lapping from your entrance, up toward the bundle of nerves between the apex of your thighs. One hand squeezed all too tightly in his now knotted hair, and the other gripped around one handlebar of the bike you writhed atop of. The two-wheels, and kickstand didn’t seem too comfortably stable in your opinion, but you trusted Tommy always in his spontaneous sexual tendencies. The pair of you may wind up crashing on the concrete below if he thrusted too hard, or your legs quaked too swiftly, but he’d still have you blushing with release regardless.

“Taste me, Tommy.”

His sucked, and spit, and nipped with his teeth cautiously at your center, moaning satisfactory curses about how you always tasted so sweet. Never in your life, could you ever imagine a man who enjoyed the oral pleasuring of his mate as yearningly as Tommy did. Your closest friends pouted, and resentfully congratulated you for finding a man as such.

“I’m gonna lose it if I don’t get inside you, Y/N.” A concoction of your own arousal, and Tommy’s saliva dribbled down his chin, and he greedily caught the liquid with is tongue upon standing to line himself up with you. You could see in his lustful, now black appearing eyes that he was a glutton for your flavor.

The deeper he slid in, the higher your orgasmic daydreams took you. You were full to the hilt, and nearly to the throat as his eager tongue explored your mouth upon a hard, knee-quaking kiss. Crickets sang outside sporadically, unbothered by the bursting connection of skin on skin echoing from inside the garage where Tommy was currently kneading your breast with his fight-scarred hands. The jet-black motorcycle rocked with his thrusts, but he held you dutifully in place, keeping his balance to ride you out to complete, blissful release.

He tried to politely, and teasingly shush your amplified pleads for more by placing his index finger over your gaped lips, but it was utterly ineffective. Not that he indeed wanted you to hush though. He got harder, and crazy with desire the louder your pitch rang out, and the more he heard his name choke from your raspy throat.

“Tommy! Yes, Tommy. Ahh, more!”

You felt every ridge and ripple as he pulled himself from your insides, then ruthlessly, and enjoyably a bit painfully drove in again. His hand massaged and trailed down the stretch of your silky throat, and his chewed his lips watching you take every steel inch of him.

Unexpectedly, just as your peak of release danced upon your tongue, a jolting rumble of thunder pulsed over your ears, following a crack of erratic heat lightening. One by one, an abstract pattering of rain drops began to peg the rooftop, bringing forth a gust of lukewarm, thunderstorm breeze. Tommy’s arms broke out into goosebumps as he watched your hair blow loose with the wind, and your insides clenched and pulsated around him.

“Drown me, baby. C’mon… can you come for me?”

The filthy demand shoved you dangerously towards the cliff of orgasm, and you whimpered airily watching his taut abs flex as his own breaths hitched and hiccupped. His brows didn’t furrow in bliss when in the cage. And a good workout didn’t make him shiver and come unwound like this. No, it was only you who could claim the title of vicious Tommy Conlon’s one and only weakness.

Your hand sought blindly a reliable, unwavering surface to grip onto as you prepared for the storm raging outside, and the one rising forth from your insides. Looking solely and focused into your boyfriends’ mysterious blue eyes, you began to smile and shake your head wildly signifying he was yet again about to render you spent and fulfilled. Tommy tilted his head and patiently waited for his queue that you had indeed finished, and he had to green light to spill inside of you.

“Lookit that. The whole city owes us a ‘thank you’ for coolin’ it down out here. We worked up a damn thunderstorm out there, baby.” Tommy joked as he easily slid your tiny, manicured feet on the ground underneath you, wiping the outpour of sweat from his face with his tattooed forearm.

Inside your mind, you compiled a list of secluded locations, and parks he could take you on the bike tomorrow morning once the rain had moved out. After that exchange, you suddenly desired nothing more than to bounce harshly on the bare lap of Tommy, gripping and scratching at that perfectly weathered and beaten leather jacket he always wore.

You strained on tiptoes to kiss his puffy lips before nervously darting towards to house, now afraid to be seen by the neighbors since the overflow of adrenaline and spontaneity had worn off. Tommy flipped off the garage light, and chased you down the hall towards the bathroom, pinching at the most ticklish corners of your body along the way.

“Good idea. I think you need a cold shower. Oh, ‘n if I ain’t in bed when you’re done, please feel free to come and find me again.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @ea91935