#oh what syrup** not chocolate. i dont even know what i wrote hfjdkhf

[duskholland]

What about a Soft!Mob!Tom where the reader is suuper pregnant and tom gets anything she needs (like cravings or something), and even cuddles her.

Love u

grrr this is so cute. so so so so so cute. thanks for requesting! cw: food. 

– it’s mob monday !! –

“How’s that, darling? Is that better?”

Tom’s looking at you, concern written across his face. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, his shirt crumpled. For the last two minutes, he’s been fussing around you, trying to fluff up the pillow behind your back so you’ll be comfortable. It doesn’t matter how much you move and try to reposition—there’s been a sharp pain jabbing into your lower back for the last hour, and it’s been incredibly irritating.

You hum, shifting around slightly as you test the waters with this new position. A broad smile finds your mouth.

“Better!” You announce. You sigh as you lay back, your hand drifting to rest on the curve of your baby bump. You’re eight months pregnant, and though you’re enjoying your pregnancy for the most part, it’s grown tiresome. Your hormones are all over the place, your feet hurt all the time, and the cravings have been incredibly intense. 

“Can I get you anything else?” Tom asks. He reaches down to rest his palm on your belly, his pinky finger wrapping around yours. His eyes are tired but still so full of love, and you feel your heart do a backflip as you meet them.

“No, I’m okay.” You link your hand with his and squeeze him softly. “You should go back to your meeting. I’ll be fine here.”

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching together. “If you need anything—anything—you call me. Okay?”

You bite back the smile that threatens to seize hold of your features, and nod. Tom’s been incredibly protective for the entire duration of your pregnancy, looking after you more than you’d ever expected him to. He’s always taken care of you, but it’s been upped—he’s uneasy whenever he doesn’t have an eye on you and doesn’t like being away from you for too long. He’s incredibly doting, and giving, and patient, and you love him so much it makes your heart hurt.

“Go,” you urge, knowing he’d happily blow off another meeting for you. “I just need to rest. Go do your job, mister.”

He kisses the back of your hand before begrudgingly stepping away.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

For a while, you flick through the programmes on the large tv attached to the wall of your bedroom, only paying partial attention as you’re between sleep and consciousness. However, when a cooking show comes on screen, you find yourself waking up. You look at the screen, your eyes widening as they fall upon the delicious spread of food. Suddenly, you feel an incredibly strong, inconvenient craving come on.

You groan as you reach out, looking for your phone. You’re distracted by the tv as you write out some simple messages to Tom.

You: hey can someone get me one of those waffles from that market in camden pls You: a really big one with the strawberries and the syrup on You: please xxxx You: oh and cinnamon. thanks

Tom: give me ten minutes

You smile as you put your phone back on the mattress, stretching your arms out above your head as you sigh happily. Tom’s got men on the ground all across the city, so you don’t feel as bad as you did when you’d begged him to go out at 3am to bring you KFC. He’d done it, because he loves you, but you’d still felt guilty. It eases your heart to know he’ll probably just relay the message to someone else and then continue with his meeting, unbothered.

Instead, you find the bedroom door opening nine minutes later, and in strolls Tom, waffle in hand, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Here you go, my darling,” he announces. He passes you the plate and kisses your forehead before waltzing off to the side, his fingers going to his tie.

“Fuck,” you moan, taking the first bite of your food and feeling your tastebuds delight. “Thank you.” You look to Tom and frown as you see he’s stripping off. “Wait, what about your meeting?”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “You need me,” he says, stating it as a fact.

You nod along, deciding not to tell him that you needed the waffle, not him, because now he’s walking towards you, shirtless and in a pair of grey sweats, and you realise...yeah. You’d quite like a cuddle.

“Definitely,” you agree. You finish eating and Tom takes the plate, putting it on the side. He offers you a glass of water, then waits for you to finish that too before approaching the bed. “Ah, fuck. I need to pee.”

Tom briefly rolls his eyes, well used to this by now. “You always need to pee,” he teases. He pulls back the duvet and offers you both hands, which you gratefully accept.

“Yeah, well, try carrying around a baby, and maybe then you’d understand.”

Tom kisses your temple before you walk away. You’re quick through the bathroom, and you find yourself yawning as you dry your hands on one of the soft cotton towels. When you walk back into the bedroom, you discover it considerably tidier than you’d left it. Tom’s apparently passed over it like some sort of cleaning fairy, and he’s moved away all the scattered clothes and dress pillows. He’s sitting in bed waiting for you, the big light switched off, and he’s apparently just as prepared as you to have a nap despite it only being late afternoon.

“You’re very cute,” you say as you get back into bed. You snuggle down and Tom curls into your side, throwing one of his legs over yours as he presses his face into your neck. His hand goes to your bump as he kisses up your neck, very softly.

“What d’you mean?” He mumbles, voice quiet and soft. His fingers draw light circles over your belly, and you hum contentedly. Already, you’re feeling sleepier, just from the darkness in the room and the warmth coming off Tom’s figure.

“So attentive,” you say. “So sweet. So...soft.”

Tom grumbles into your neck. “‘M not soft.”

“Yes, you are.” You snuggle further into the duvet and smile into the darkness. “Ditching your meetings for me, bringing me whatever I want, cuddling me all the time… You’re a big softie, Tom. It’s cute.”

“Hmph.” Tom rubs your stomach gently. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. Happy mum, happy baby.” You roll your eyes as he repeats the buzz phrase which has characterised your pregnancy. Happy mum, happy baby has been his mantra. You aren’t complaining. It’s worked out quite well for you.

“Yeah, but when the baby’s here, you’ll be ditching me for her.”

“Never, darling, never.” Tom chuckles as he kisses your jaw. “You’ll just need to share the spotlight. Can you do that?”

You bring a hand up to play with his hair. “I think I’ll be able to figure something out,” you reply. You’re quiet for a few moments, your eyelids falling shut as you let yourself relax. You’re very content, with Tom’s soft curls against your neck and his soft breathing fanning out across your skin. You feel full of love. “‘M sleepy.”

“Go to sleep,” he whispers. Tom turns his head to kiss your shoulder. “I’m here.”

“Okay,” you mumble, yawning. One of your hands goes to rest on your stomach, and Tom repositions his palm so it’s resting on top of yours.

“Sweet dreams,” he coos. “Sleep well.”