#wof tom bennett

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

False Pretences

19/12: Holly and Hair Pulling - Tom Bennett Word Count: 2k~ | Warnings: hair pulling, fingering, allusions to p in v, ww2 talk and mentions of hitler

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

It was as clear as fog, what her role was here.

Since war had broken out in Europe, listening to whatever dire news filled those who listened with fear and anticipation, all the keywords present to stir up panic in every household, she knew she could not merely stand idly by on the shores of England, and do nothing.

It was either overalls and dirty, grotty factories, or the Women’s Royal Naval Service.

She couldn’t deny herself, one sounded better than the other.

Of course her family had attempted to deter her from leaving England altogether, waving her off from the front step as if she were slinging a gun over her shoulder herself and facing Hitler head on. Her mother sobbed, but she did not miss the gleaming pride in her father’s eyes. Her own brother had already gone off to fight, so he’d be left with no children at home, and yet he did not complain, did not forbid her from going. He knew the honest truth, that she would have found a way anyway, stubborn as she was.

Usually, people like her, or women, more so, were not allowed aboard naval ships. Especially hunt-class destroyers. It was far too dangerous, or rather in their words, unsuitable for female company. God, if her parents knew where she stood right at this moment her mother would surely throw a fit until she was red in the face.

Better for them to not know at all, she reasons, sat at her desk, tapping the end of her pencil against her notepad. It was only temporary, they’d told her, a quick posting to fill an urgent need. But that hardly felt reassuring now, deep in the belly of HMS Keith with the sound of waves pounding against the hull and the faint but ever-present vibration of the engines beneath her feet.

The ship shuddered as it cut through another swell, and she reached out instinctively to steady the pencil rolling across her desk. She could hear the men outside, shouting and belly-laughing, no doubt taking some much needed time off their duties to celebrate what they thought was as close to Christmas cheer as they were likely to get. Who knew if it was even Christmas Day?

Her pencil hovered above paper, listening to the constant hum of static that she had come to know so well. These last few hours were quiet, luckily. She supposed the people of Europe celebrated Christmas too. In fact, she’d wager that most of the enemy were doing the very same thing this crew were doing right now, drinking, laughing and card games. Perhaps they were not so dissimilar after all.

A small knock came at her door, and she considered ignoring it, wondering if she had somehow misheard through her headset. But then it came again, more firm, and she rolled her eyes and stood, straightening her uniform to see who was so insistent on seeing her this late hour.

She raised an eyebrow as a man stood there, tall, leaning confidently against the doorframe as the ship swayed slightly. He was young, perhaps somewhere near her age, if she had to guess. His sandy, blonde hair was pulled from his face, sides shaven and short, as was the style of young men.

“Evening,” he said, his tone so breezy it might have been mistaken for confidence. Overconfidence perhaps. “Thought I’d pop by and spread a bit of cheer.”

She crossed her arms. “Cheer?”

He held up the sprig of green, holly, she realised, though the leaves looked rather battered. He propped it in the middle of the doorway. “You know what they say.”

Her lips twitched, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. “That’s not mistletoe.”

“You’re smarter than I hoped.”

“Smarter than you, evidently.” She raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just checking on our mysterious new arrival,” he said, leaning a little closer as if they were acquainted. “Word travels fast, you know. ‘Unmarked door near the comms room.’ Had to see it for myself.”

She smiled, though she willed herself not to. “And?”

“And here you are. Bit of a shock, I’ll admit. Women on a ship, it’s bad luck, you know.”

She snorted slightly, her cheeks warming in embarrassment at her behaviour. “Didn’t take you to be superstitious. Anyway, shouldn’t you be at your post?”

Tom chuckled, the sound warm and unbothered. “Probably. But this seemed more interesting.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. I’m just here to work, same as you.”

“Right. Decoding top-secret messages, I suppose. Life or death stuff, like when Hitler breaks wind or when Goebbels has food poisoning.”

Surprised you know who they even are, she thinks to herself.

She snorted despite herself, quickly masking it with a cough. “Something like that,” she said, turning back toward her desk.

It was her way of dismissing him, but he didn’t take the hint, as men with his confidence rarely did. She busied herself with the papers scattered across her workspace, shuffling them into neat piles that didn’t actually need straightening. She didn’t want to encourage him, but at the same time, she didn’t really want him to go, either.

Behind her, she heard the faint scuff of his boots on the floor. She paused for a moment, a smile rising to her lips when she felt his presence so close behind her. “I do hope you can tell the difference between holly and mistletoe, Mr…?”

“Tom, just Tom,” he answered quietly. “Can’t blame a bloke for wanting a kiss from a pretty girl, can you?”

She turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder, blue eyes almost clear in this low, amber light that felt tighter as time passed. “I suppose it is Christmas, after all, isn’t it?” she smiled.

Tom didn’t wait for a clearer invitation. He stepped closer, his hands brushing her waist as if testing her reaction. When she didn’t pull away, he tilted his head, meeting her halfway. The kiss started soft, tentative, but the heat rose quickly, fuelled by the unspoken urgency of two people who had been too long without touch. Tom cupped her cheek with one hand, the other slipping to her hip.

She turned fully now, her back pressing against the edge of the desk as her hands found their way to his chest. His uniform was coarse beneath her fingers, and she could feel the hard muscle beneath it, the warmth of him seeping through the layers.

She felt the low hum through his chest as he pressed his hips closer, easing her back against the desk, his hand slipping into her hair up the nape of her neck, tightening a fist around her glossy strands as if for leverage to pry her lips open for his access.

She hummed in amusement, prompting him to part with ragged breath, “been around men for too long?”

“Too bloody long,” he confessed, his voice rough as he let out a shaky laugh. 

She smiled, but her eyes looked over as if she were analysing him, her hand sliding from his chest over his belt, her small, soft hand drifting over the evident hardness straining in his uniform trousers.

“I can tell,” she muses quietly.

He let out a shaky exhale, flustered either by her behaviour or slight embarrassment at being so called out for it. But it was clear he wasn't the type of man to like small jokes at his expense, and she let out a breathy whine as his fingers tightened in her hair. Keeping her where she stood, and tilting her face up towards him.

“Are you always like this?” He asked.

“Only to the ones that deserve it.”

He huffed, pulling her up by her hips to set her down on the desk, papers and pencils scattered to the floor under his hasty palm. Her legs parted around his instinctively, letting him step between them, his hands dropping then to her thighs.

His breath was hot on her neck as he placed open-mouthed, nearly desperate kisses there. His hand brushed beneath the hem of her skirt, as if testing the waters, pausing only to pull back to speak.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, though his hand didn't move.

“I wouldn't dare.”

Her breath hitched as her hand drifted higher, teasing the gusset of her knickers, sending a sharp, white spark of pleasure up her spine. Her hands gripped his shoulders, shuddering despite herself, he was certainly in no rush.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice laced with both surprise and satisfaction. “God, I’ve barely touched you.”

Her face burned with embarrassment, but instead of chastising him, she tugged him back to her lips. He groaned, his fingers exploring the growing wetness and heat forming between her legs. For a moment there was no more, not even a ship. Just his long, thick fingers against her heat, wanting more.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he murmured against her lips, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric now, skin against skin.

She shuddered, parting her legs wider for ease of access and wrapping them around his hips, “just don't stop.”

The sound his fingers made as he explored through her wetness was nothing short of lewd, her back arched slightly into him, wanting to feel the girth of them inside her, and quick.

“Christ,” he murmured, almost to himself, as two fingers slipped inside her, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her head fell back slightly. “Tom—” she breathed, her voice breaking.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his tone somewhere between curious and wicked as his fingers curled inside her, finding the spot that made her whole body tense and then melt in the same breath.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan, but he wasn’t having it. His hand moved faster, more confident now, his thumb pressing firmly against the sensitive bundle of nerves that had her hips bucking against him.

“Let them hear you, love,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her jaw as his fingers curled just right inside her. 

Her body trembled, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped, a cry spilling from her lips as pleasure surged through her like a tidal wave. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his uniform as her thighs clenched around him, holding him in place as her body shuddered with each wave of her release.

Once it subsided, the feeling of how tight his fist was holding her hair became apparent but not unpleasant. She sighed, the tension leaving her body slowly, easing her into lulling waves of warmth.

He withdrew his hand slowly, his fingers slick and glistening, and stepped back slightly, though the smirk on his face suggested he wasn’t quite ready to let go of the moment.

“Worth the trouble of knocking, I'd say,” he quipped with a wink, infuriatingly wiping the moisture on his fingers against her bare thigh.

She glanced up at him through her lashes, her smile some kind of soft but amused warning. Her hand shot out to his belt, and his eyebrows shot so high to his forehead she was sure he'd seen God for a moment as her hands worked quickly to undo the buckle and then the buttons.

“Christ, love. Didn’t think you’d still have the energy.”

“Maybe next time, bring actual mistletoe,” she said, her voice dry but laced with heat.

“Next time?” he repeated, his grin turning wicked as he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, a full body shudder running through him as she took him into her palm, hard and thick, giving a few languid strokes before sliding her other hand up his neck. 

“Oh, love, you’re going to ruin me.”

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[hoosbandewan]

The Three Steps of Being a Cocky Little Menace, by Ewan Mitchell: 1. Talk shit 2. Get hit 3. Smile about it

[myfandomprompts]

EWAN MITCHELL MOVIES & SERIES BOARD

2017-2024

[ewanmitchelldaily]

EWAN MITCHELL as TOM BENNETT WORLD ON FIRE SEASON 1

[aemondsbabe]

Homecoming

summary: reassurance & car sex || you're desperate to have tom before he ships off, but neither of your houses are exactly ideal options...

pairing: tom bennett x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, first time, loss of virginity, car sex, public sex (they don’t get caught, no one else sees, but it’s not in the privacy of a home so ig), fingering, fluff, tom being so sweet actually, v soft

word count: 3.1k

a/n: happy day two of 12 days of smuff!!! tom bennett makes my head spin!!!!!!! Can be read as a part 1 to A Promise is a Promise or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @violaobanion!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A loud peal of laughter erupts from Tom’s lips as the two of you stagger out of the small, neighborhood pub you frequented, each of you calling quick goodbye’s over your shoulders to your friends. The night air was crisp but thankfully not overly cold yet as you take Tom’s arm, your shoulder bumping against his as you step out onto the sidewalk.

“You’re a real firecracker, love, you know that?” He asks with a cheeky grin, draping a long arm over your shoulders as you begin the quick walk back to your family’s place. 

You can’t help but chuckle as you glance over at him, the apples of your cheeks sore from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing over the last couple hours. “‘S just the truth, Tommy,” you shrug, slightly slurring your words, “I just love you sooooooo much! Like, more than anything.”

Leaning in, Tom presses a quick kiss to your cheek and laughs once again when you stumble against him from the movement. “Easy there, tiger,” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. The two of you amble a bit further in a comfortable, giggly silence as you finally turn the corner onto your street, “D’you love me more than Cola Cubes?” Tom asks, giggling out the words.

You throw your head back and groan dramatically before turning to him with a playful pout, “That is pure evil, that is! Making me think of Cola Cubes during rationing!” You whine, reaching up to lightly smack him on his firm chest. 

Tom merely laughs as the two of you finally come to a stop in front of your front door; spinning around, you let yourself fall back against the white-painted door, the material cool against your back through your thin blouse. You look up through your lashes at Tom, watching as he leans forward, balancing himself against the door with one arm outstretched above the two of you as his other hand comes to rest on your hip. 

“Tell ya what,” he starts, a suddenly serious look in his cobalt eyes as he leans ever closer to you and rests his forehead against yours, “I’ll save you every single Cola Cube I get in my C-rations and y’can have ‘em all when I get back to ya.” 

Your throat tightens at his words and your heart twists meanly in your chest, though you manage to turn your lips up into a small, quivering smile as you place a hand on his chest, the grey fabric of his sweater soft under your palm. “And you promise you’ll come back?” Your voice is softer than you mean for it to be, a slight hoarseness to it from how your throat pinches. 

Tom sighs softly and gently cups your chin, his hand still cool from where it had been balanced on the door. “I’ve only had you for a measly two months, you think I’m giving you up that easily?” He teases, though there’s a certain sadness in his eyes that mirror’s your own; even still, you can’t help but chuckle at his words. 

The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a moment, simply enjoying being close as neither of you are willing to say goodnight yet. After a minute, your breath hitches in your chest as you notice the shadow behind the brunette’s eyes morph into a different kind of darkness as his eyes stray to your lips.

Without a second thought, you lean in and press your lips against his, eliciting a pleased hum from the boy, the small noise vibrating against the hand still on his chest as your other comes up to rest on his shoulder. Both of his skirt down to grab at your hips and he pulls you closer to him, your heads tilting in opposite directions as the kiss deepens. A small whimper escapes your lips as he licks into your mouth, his tongue swirling against your own.

“Tommy,” you whisper, your head tilting further to the side as he presses a line of kisses down your neck, “I… I want you.” You finish shyly, teeth biting into your lower lip as he pulls back to look at you.

His breath hitches for a second before he collects himself. “Are you sure, love?” He asks gruffly, “I thought you wanted to wait till–.”

You shake your head, your eyes searching his as you fiddle with the neckline of his sweater. “Changed my mind,” the corner of your lips quirks up into a nervous smile, “Think of it as a going away present.”

Tom smiles at your words and huffs out a small laugh before nodding to the door behind you. “Whatever you wish, love. Lead the way.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you shake your head again. “Are you crazy? We cannot go in there, both my parents are very light sleepers and if my dad catches you, you won’t even make it to the Navy, much less make it home. Can’t we just go round to yours? It’s only a couple minutes away.”

“No can do, love,” Tom sighs with a shake of his head, “Even if my dad’s asleep, there’s no way we’ll get past Lois. Bloody bat hearing on that one, I swear.”

The two of you sigh, defeated, your shoulders sagging as Tom crooks an arm up, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck as he glances around, the wheels in his head spinning frantically as he tries to come up with an idea; his eyes do a double take as he spots your family’s black car sitting idly on the small driveway in front of your house and he turns to you with a sly smirk.

“What say we christen your dad’s car?”

You start to giggle, convinced he’s merely joking, although you stop when you see the look in his eyes. “Tommy, you can’t be serious,” you say with a surprised smile, “If my dad finds out we took it he’ll–.”

“Who said anything about taking it, love?” He says with a proud smirk.

You guffaw at this, staring at him incredulously. “What, you mean just here on the drive?”

“Well, why not?” He questions, exaggeratedly turning his head as he looks around, peering up and down the deserted road, “You know as well as I do that all your neighbors are old as the hills, love. Only ones out round here at this hour are you and me.”

You stay quiet for a moment, unbelievably actually considering his proposal as you glance up and down the road and well… he is right. Most of your neighbors are quite a bit older and all of their windows dark and still as you peer around. Finally, you turn back to Tom with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Fine,” you quip, blushing slightly as he chuckles lowly, clearly pleased with himself, “Let me grab the bloody key.” You mutter with a playful eye roll as you open your front door as slowly and quietly as you can possibly manage. You duck in and quickly snatch your father’s ring of keys off the small table next to the door before quietly shutting it behind you. 

You hand the keys to Tom and follow him down the drive, a sense of giddiness quickly replacing your nerves; the brunette easily unlocks the car and quickly pulls one of the back doors open and slides inside before reaching a hand out to pull you with him.

He pounces on you as soon as you carefully shut the door, his rough hands eagerly bunching up the fabric of your blouse as he tugs it out from where you’d tucked it under your skirt while his lips move frantically against your own. 

“You’re sure?” He pants, pulling back after a moment when he feels your hands starting to tug impatiently at the bottom of his sweater, “We really don’t ha–.”

You press a finger against his rosy lips, cutting him off with a soft giggle. “I want this, Tommy,” leaning in, you trail soft kisses up his jaw to his ear, “I want you.” You whisper, relishing the way he shivers on top of you and the way the muscles of his stomach and chest twitch under your touch as you slide your hands under his sweater. 

With a nod, Tom dives in yet again and presses wet kisses against the column of your throat as he tugs you into his lap, careful not to let your head bump against the roof of the car. He groans at the feel of you on top of him and his hands move quickly as they pull your blouse up; he leans in and kisses wetly up your stomach, right down the middle until he reaches the bottom of your bra. 

His blue eyes are nearly black as he gazes up at you, questioning. A whimper slips past your lips as you answer him with a small nod, fingers threading through his short hair as he eagerly slips your bra up.

He breathes out a low, satisfied groan when your breasts are finally free, not bothering to take off your bra or blouse before he dives in. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, lips pressed against the underside of your breast, “They’re better than I imagined, so much better.”

A giggle spills past your lips before it quickly turns into a moan, your head lolling back as he latches onto one nipple, happily sucking it into his warm mouth with a satisfied grunt. “T-Tommy,” you whisper, already writhing on top of him from a few touches, “Don’t stop.” Your voice is whiny as you speak, only for you to actually whine as Tom pulls back for a second to tug his sweater over his head. 

“Relax, love,” he huffs against your chest, groaning hotly as you squirm in his lap, no doubt able to feel his cock as it hardens steadily in his pants, “‘M gonna give you what you want, gonna do right by you.” He promises, licking over your nipple before sucking at it and letting his eyes flutter shut at the way you gently tug his hair. 

The windows of the car quickly begin to fog up as the two of you move together, your breathy sighs and whimpers filling the small space along with Tom’s harsh pants and groans. You squirm in his lap as his hands make quick work of your stockings and underwear, quickly tugging them down and off your legs before he tosses them somewhere on the floor of the car. 

He looks to you for reassurance once more, which you happily give, before his warm hand cups your center, causing both of you to shudder against each other. Slowly, carefully, he parts your folds before gently rubbing a finger over your bud, chuckling when you buck into his hand with a loud moan. “That the spot, love?” His eyes flick up to your face, eager to watch your reactions as he touches you, “God, you’re dripping.” A soft sigh leaves his lips as he presses his fingers more firmly against you, flicking them over your clit. 

“Mhm, Tommy, shit,” you whine, your voice only a breathy whisper as you press your forehead against his. Your eyes flutter as your hips move against his hand, seemingly with a mind of their own, “More, please!” You whine desperately after a few moments, eyes squeezing shut at the way your center clenches around nothing.

Nodding, Tom moves his hand a bit lower, groaning at how much slicker you are here, before he runs his fingers through your folds once more, making sure to get them wet before notching two at your entrance. “Ready?” He asks softly, only slowly pushing them in once you nod. He groans along with you, marveling at how tightly you’re grasping his fingers as his cock twitches in his pants at the thought of how much tighter you’ll be around him. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans lowly, blue eyes glancing down to watch your breasts heave as you pant on top of him, “Does that feel good, love?”

Wordlessly, you nod against his forehead, swallowing thickly. A loud moan is practically punched out of you as he curls his fingers, pressing perfectly against a small, sensitive spot inside you. Your mouth hangs open as unintelligible whines tumble from your lips, a shiver going down your spine when you see the pleased smirk on his face. 

His long fingers fuck into you for a few more moments, his thumb coming up to rub at your clit in a way that makes you see stars as you cling to him tightly, your breasts pressed deliciously up against his warm, bare chest. 

You whine, however, when his movements start to slow against you, though he’s quick to hush you, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You want my cock, love?” He asks, pulling his fingers from you slowly before gripping appreciatively at the fat of your inner thigh. 

You pull back to look down at him, your eyebrows knitting together as a small, nervous pit forms in your stomach. “It… it won’t hurt, right?” You ask softly, the words of several of your friends echoing through your mind. 

Quickly, Tom shakes his head, one hand coming up to cup your cheek lovingly. “I promise it won’t,” he says softly, pressing a reassuring kiss to your lips, “I told you, I’m gonna do right by you.”

Hesitantly, you nod, though he must sense the nervousness that’s still pooled in your stomach. He sighs with a soft smile, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “How about you stay on top, hm? That way you control everything.”

You blink a few times, considering the offer before smiling and nodding, which draws a bright smile from the boy underneath you. You shift back a bit on his lap, giving him enough room to unbutton and unzip his pants and pull them down just enough to free his cock; your eyes widen as he pulls it free from his boxers with a relieved sigh.

“A-Are you sure it’ll fit?” You ask softly, marveling at it as he runs a hand over his length. 

He chuckles beneath you with a proud smirk as he pulls you back to him. “I’m sure, love, I promise you’ll enjoy it.” He assures you, pressing kisses down your neck as he does so. Your breath hitches as you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance, and you lean into Tom’s touch as you let him guide your hips. 

“Oh!” You shudder as you slowly sink down, breathing heavily as the head slips inside your warm center.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, his hands gentle on your hips as he lets you take him at your own pace, “Doing so well, pretty girl.”

His praises spur you on as you sink lower and lower, eyes squeezing shut as your thighs burn a little with the effort. Finally, after a few minutes, you breathe a sigh of relief as your thighs finally rest on top of his, his length pressing fully inside you.

“Y’okay?” He checks through a ragged breath, his eyes nearly slipping to the back of his head as he feels you twitch and pulse around him already, your walls suffocatingly tight against his length. 

You nod as you let yourself fall forward and press a cheek against his warm shoulder before giving a small, experimental roll of your hips. You gasp as you feel him press against you, filling you with a delicious ache. 

The two of you begin to move together wordlessly, your hands finding purchase against his firm chest as you gingerly bounce on top of him, breathily moaning in time with each thrust. Tom grunts each time you sink back down onto him, one hand gripping at your hip as the other kneads at your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipple just enough to elicit adorable high-pitched whines from you. 

Your clit, still sensitive from his earlier attention, rubs perfectly against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock and sends shivers down your spine. “T-Tommy,” you gasp, nearly doubling over as you tilt your hips, causing the head of his cock to rut against that sensitive spot within you at the same time your clit grinds against him, “I think – I, oh!” You pant against his shoulder, unable to string together two words as sparks suddenly burst behind your eyelids. 

Tom huffs out a loud groan as he feels you tense on top of him, your walls clenching around his cock wildly as your peak washes over you. He mumbles incoherent curses against your neck as his hips rut up into you. 

He holds out for as long as he can before tugging you off of his lap, one hand quickly grasping at his length as he desperately strokes it. You watch, enraptured, as his head tilts back onto the car seat, his Adams’s apple bobbing beautifully as he moans, long and loud. His cock twitches in his grasp as he finishes, painting wet, pearlescent streaks against the trembling skin of his lower stomach, his chest heaving. 

After a moment, the two of you giggle softly. You bite your lip as he bends over, only to open it in protest as he quickly wipes his spend from his stomach with your discarded stockings, “Tom! You pig!” You admonish, albeit through a surprised laugh. 

He peers up at you cheekily as he deposits your stockings on the floor of the car once again, laughing as he pulls you back to him. “You’ll wash them anyway!” He huffs, wrapping his arms around you. The two of you grow quiet for a moment, rain softly pattering against the top of the car. “Or you could keep them like a trophy while I’m gone,” he teases, chuckling once again at your small sound of disgust, “Something to remember me by.”

“But you’ll be back,” you say softly after a moment, pulling back so you can look at him properly, your wide eyes searching his, “Right?”

He sighs with a soft smile, both hands gently cupping your cheeks. “I promise, I’ll come back to you,” he says earnestly, blue eyes boring into your own, “I will come home to you, love.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before finally nodding, tucking your face against his shoulder once more and breathing in his familiar scent.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

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[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Love thy neighbour ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: First Tom Bennett fic team, now why is he so fucking hot!!!

Pairing: Tom Bennett x Neighbour!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ mdni, dirty talk, kissing/making out, dry humping, Tom hitting from behind, fingering, p in v sex, Tom being a charming bastard.

Summary: Tom needed to hide from his dad after an evening at the pub, surely his pretty neighbour would let him in?

Word count: 3k

The cold draft sweeping through your bedroom kept you awake once again, pulling your sheets up as far as you could didn’t do much either. You cursed the single paned windows for keeping you from your dreams for the third time this week, you had work at the beauty shop as a countergirl tomorrow and you couldn’t afford having no energy. 

It was all smiles and a happy, energised voice while assisting the ladies with any makeup or perfume. It fit you well but it did take a lot out of you, hence why sleeping well was quite important. Then your mind drifted off, a certain blonde haired man clouding your mind. Your neighbours, the Bennetts, were a nice family and you would sometimes even hang out with Lois. 

Lois was one of your good friends and since the two of you lived so close, them living right across the narrow street, you would often spend time with her. She would most of the time talk about Harry, a man you could tell just from Lois’ stories wasn’t quite great but you let her do her thing. 

You had met him once or twice and wasn’t quite impressed. And when you voiced your opinion to your friend she simply stated it was because you just like blonder men. She knew of your crush on her brother and found it quite adorable. 

You were somewhat embarrassed, you were pretty certain he saw you as a friend and as Lois’ friend so you kept it to yourself. However you knew him pretty well and you had been to his rescue a couple of times when the police came down the road, hiding in your house until they left. 

After your dad left to join the army when the war started it had been you and your mum, since she now was the sole income for the family, you decided to get a job as well. So your cousin gave you a recommendation at the beauty shop, hence getting you a job. Which of course you were very thankful for.  

His footsteps were the only sound that echoed through the empty dark street. Everyone was asleep by now, which was obvious as it was the middle of the night. Tom had spent the evening at the pub and even though he wasn’t drunk, he still knew he would be in trouble once he got home.

So he had a choice to make, his feet came to a halt at his front door. Blowing out some smoke from the cigarette he was puffing on before glancing to your window. Your bedroom was at the front of the house, just like his and Lois’ bedroom. 

Would you still be awake? Would you even let him in? And if you did, he would have to be careful not to wake your mum up. Even though the woman liked him, as he was very charming and handsome, your father did not. Of course he wasn’t home now but if he knew he had been in his daughters bedroom, there would be hell to pay.

He had never actually been in your bedroom, just hid in the closet downstairs when the police showed up at his door. He stood there for a minute taking a last drag of his now short cigarette, before stomping it out on the floor. His eyes shifted from his door to your window, he really didn’t want to deal with his nagging dad right now.

Your window it is. He crossed the street and noticed the tiny pebbles on the sidewalk. Picking them up he carefully threw one at your window, he couldn’t be too loud. If his dad heard him inside the house or your mum in yours, he would be in such deep shit.

The tick against the window made you sit up in bed, did you hear that right? Tick...Tick. Now there were two, you definitely heard that right. Throwing the sheets of your body, you got out of bed. Clad in your thin long nightshift, it was new, a gift from Lios for your birthday that was a couple of weeks ago.

As you made your way to your window, you wrapped your arms around yourself to fight the cold. When you peered out, a crooked smile met your eyes. You rolled them at him and he put his hands together in a begging motion as he got on his knees. You stifled a laugh at his stupid gesture and opened your window. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You whisper yelled at him. “Well I was hopin’ you would rescue me, and here you are.” He whisper yelled back, now getting back on his feet. “Oh really, and how would I do that?” You teased, you knew he wanted to just get inside but why not pester him a bit?

“Please beautiful, can you let me in? I promise I won’t wake up your mum.” His words made your face turn about a hundred shades of red and you contemplated his question. You let out a sigh and fully opened your window. Tom smiled at you and used your, luckily strongly built, drain pipe to get up the wall and into your bedroom. 

He almost tripped and fell into your bedroom when his foot got stuck on the windowsill but you managed to catch him. The pair of you had to keep your laughs in as your mum only slept two rooms down the hall. 

When you let go of him he sneakily glanced at your thinly covered breasts before taking in your small but cosy bedroom. You blushed hard when you caught him staring but sat back down on your bed as he looked around, the moonlight illuminating the room. Then you noticed your pebbled nipples were quite visible through your gown.

You paid it no mind and slightly covered yourself with your arms. “So...your room is nice, I imagined it would be like this. All, well flowery and stuff.” You quirked a brow at him. “You imagined what my bedroom would look like?” He snorted at that and just shrugged. “Dunno just thought it would look like this, can smell your perfume. It’s nice.” 

His charming personality and butterfly inducing words made you completely forget about a very important matter, where would he sleep? “Should I uh… sleep on the ground or?” You smiled softly, “Or?” He scratched the back of his neck and looked around awkwardly. “Or...maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing with me?” 

His words made your face burn and the thought heated your belly. Sleeping next to Tom? In your bed? So incredibly close? Your bed was quite small, since it was just you, so it would be a tight fit. “I don’t know Tom, it’s a very small bed.” He nodded at your words and lowered to the ground, at least the floor was carpeted. 

You sighed, he couldn’t sleep on the ground. There was even less room on the floor and it was incredibly cold with the draft. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to share with him? “Get up.” He smiled and got off the floor waiting for you to get under the sheets so he could join you. But then he started to take off his coat, then his shoes, then his sweater. 

He looked at you hesitantly, “You mind if I take off me pants? They’re not comfortable to sleep in.” He smiled a bit sheepishly. You bit your lip softly and nodded, moving a bit more to the side so he could join you once he was left in his briefs. 

You closed your eyes to give him some privacy and a moment later you felt the mattress dip and his legs brushed yours as he climbed next to you. “You can look y’know?” You softly opened your eyes and was met with his cute smile again. “Did I wake you up?” He whispered. 

You shook your head, “No, the cold was keeping me up so you didn’t.” He nodded and made himself a bit more comfortable. “So you workin tomorrow then?” It was now you who nodded, “Yeah, too bad I won’t have slept much though.” He smiled again at your words and mumbled a sorry.

“It’s fine, cold would’ve kept me up anyway.” He seemed to think for a moment. “If you turn around, I could lie closer to you, keep us both warm.” He once again made your cheeks turn red, but agreed anyway. You turned around, now faced with your flower wallpaper as you felt him inch closer to you.

His front was now pressed to your back and it felt awfully intimate. You could smell the cigarettes he smoked on him and the delicious musk that always clung to him, a mixture of beer, cologne and sweat. Suddenly you felt the draft sweep through the room again and you shivered.

Tom didn’t fail to notice and now wrapped his arm around your waist, the sudden touch making you jolt a bit. “You okay?” He whispered, so close to your ear, his warm breath made you shudder once more. “Y-yeah, it’s warmer this way.” His warm body against yours was the best feeling you had felt in your life.

After a while he shifted again and seemed to cuddle up to you a bit. The sensation made heat pool in your belly again and you could feel yourself throbbing a bit below. The way that this man made you feel was dangerous, and something no other man could make you feel. 

Not much time had gone by when you awoke again but this time it wasn’t because of the draft. Tom shifted again, now seemingly in his sleep. Then you felt it, something hard poking your ass. You weren’t stupid, you knew he was hard. 

You had sex before, mediocre at most but you couldn’t help imagine what it would be like if Tom woke up and just fucked you right on your tiny bed. Your leg started to cramp a bit and this time you moved a bit, getting more comfortable. The movement made your ass graze his covered erection, was it a trick on your ears or did you hear a quiet moan? 

The noise made your core throb harder and so did the feeling of his cock pressing against your ass. He was probably asleep and you wanted to know if you really had this effect on him, so you grinded a bit harder against him this time, under the ruse of getting more comfortable.

“Do that again darling and you would have to do something about it.” The warm whisper against your ear made you gasp. He was awake, fuck. “Or maybe you are doing it on purpose. Maybe you want to do something about it. Hm?” His low voice made the wetness in your underwear worse and all you could do was nod.

“Say it.” You whimpered at his command. “Go on. Tell me what you want.” His hand started to caress your hip. “W-want, want you.” He chuckled. “Yeah? You want me baby? Or my cock?” His words and now tighter grip on your hip made you moan softly. “Both- P-please,  Tommy I need you.” You whined.

You could hear him groan behind you as his hand snaked down to your covered wetness. Two of his fingers carefully caressed the soaked fabric, right on your covered clit. The gentle touch was enough to set your body on fire. 

You pushed your ass against his crotch again and he grunted out a quiet fuck. Before rolling his hips against you in a rougher movement. The action made the both of you moan quietly as your mother was still sleeping in the same house. His hand then skimmed a bit higher against the edge of the fabric. 

His fingers then moved your underwear down, and he started to kiss and lick your neck, earning whimpers from you. The moment he touched your now bare clit, made you moan a bit too loud, stilling both your movements as your eyes widened in fear. But for moments nothing happened and he continued his movements, but not before warning you.

“Be quiet beautiful, don’t want your mother finding your neighbour's fingers deep in your cunt would you?” You gasped once again, words were dangerous coming out of his mouth. The effect he had on you was insane. 

He resumed, his thick fingers circling your clit. Then he also started to hump your ass again from behind. His own soft groans and moans mixed with yours. “You turn me into an animal baby, bet you could make me cum by just letting me grind against your ass.” The words spurred you on even more and you could feel yourself getting close.

The way his fingers perfectly stimulated your clit made you tremble beneath his touch. Sighs and pants left your lips as he rolled his hips against your ass in a stronger rhythm now, his fingers worked faster too, as he listened to your dizzying responses. 

Soon you were clutching his arm, holding your breath as you were so incredibly close. “Tommy- I’m so close- please-” He sucked and kissed your neck once more and sped up his fingers a bit, the way you gripped his arm was starting to hurt but he fucking loved it.

Then with a louder gasp and whine, your entire body spasmed and contracted, waves of ecstasy crashing through your body. Tom’s hand was stuck between your thighs but he wanted nothing more, the fact he did that to you made his cock twitch in his briefs. 

He had edged himself the whole time while pleasuring you, hoping he would be allowed to fuck you as well. Once you seemed to calm from your high, your body relaxed and Tom could move his hand again, but he wasn’t done. 

“Gonna let me fuck your tight cunt baby? Oh, please let me, need you so bad.” He groaned in your ear, showing you how much he needed you with a harsh pump of his hips. You breathed a yes and hiked up your nightgown yourself, tits on display for him. 

He immediately took advantage of it and massaged them with his freed hand, before tugging off his briefs, now fully naked as well. He took both of your clothes and threw them on the ground next to the bed. Then he caressed your skin again.

Kissing your shoulder and neck, and then he turned your head. Kissing your lips fiercely before stroking his cock a bit. “Do you have a condom pretty?” You nodded and gestured to your nightstand, the condoms still in there from when your ex used to visit. He quickly opened the drawer and pulled one out.

Never had you seen a man rip open and put on a condom so fast, it made you giggle a bit. He smiled at you and lovingly kissed your lips before you turned back so he could move his cock over your glistening folds. His tip caught over your hole and he gasped, “Can I?” You nodded again and he carefully slid his tip inside.

He almost fully entered you with how slick you were and the added lube on the condom. But he made sure to treat you delicately, so he slowly buried himself inside. Cursing under his breath at your warm walls hugging his cock. Once he got to the hilt, he let you get used to his size.

You breathed a please, and he got the hint to start moving. He rolled into you from behind and the small old bed started to creak a bit with his movements, somehow making the whole ordeal more intoxicating. “So fucking good baby, your tight little cunt feels so good, might get me addicted.” He grunted from behind. 

You could barely think as his cock pounded into you, mind blank as pleasure consumed you. Then you felt his fingers on your clit again, trying to sloppily match it up to his thrusts. The bed creaked louder when he drove into you harder, skin on skin slapping now also filling the room.

All attempts to be as quiet as possible flew out the window and now you just hoped you were both quiet enough. Each pound into you drew a moan from your lips, his own groans muffled by your neck he was nuzzled against. “Fuck baby, yes, yes, yes- feels so good, my little slut- fuck-” Your cunt squeezed him at his words making him groan even more.

Your cunt started to contract more and more around him, along with your breathless gasps it was a sign for him that you were close. So his fingers now found a good rhythm over your clit and along with his noises, the bed, your colliding skin and his thrusts, euphoria found you again. Your back arched against him and his hand was once again trapped in his favourite place. You twitched against him and your walls contracted around his cock tightly. 

“Yeah- yeah- baby- come for me. You gonna make me cum- you want that? You want me to fuck my cum inside you?” A moan was the only response he needed and he spilled his spend all inside the condom, moans and gasps left his lips as well, as he thrusted a couple more times inside you. 

Curses left his lips as he made sure he completely emptied himself in the condom, pretending he was filling up your pretty cunt instead. His movements stilled as he held onto you. Both of your heavy breaths filled the room, now quite hot enough. 

After a while he carefully slipped his soft cock out of you and removed the condom. Tying it up before leaving you to throw it in your trashcan. He then picked up your nightgown and underwear and gave it to you with a smirk, before pulling on his own briefs again.

He slipped back next to you and you had now turned to face him, an uncontrollable smile on your face. He pecked your lips before doing it again and again, earning a laugh from you. He wrapped his arms protectively around you and then kissed your cheek. 

And so you fell asleep in his arms and when morning came, you were late for work and had a lot of explaining to do to your mother. Who screamed as she entered your room that morning.

[myfandompromptsside]

Ewan 'hand on knee' Mitchell.

[livmondcole]

I will always love you Tom Bennett

[arcielee]

It's Not Tonight

Summary: Tom Bennett slips in through your window. Paring: Tom Bennett x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: Tom is a scoundrel, angst from a one night stand, masturbating, a smidge of voyeurism, kissing, grinding, sexual memories recalled fondly but also bitterly, overstimulation kinda? Author's Note: It has been one year since I last wrote for Tom fucking Bennett and what better way to commemorate that than something short and smutty? This takes place end of episode 1 and beginning of episode 2, for season 1 WoF. Thank you so much my beloved @helaelaemond for being my muse, for your help with this piece! Without you, it would have just been sitting in my drafts. 💜 Dividers are by @saradika-graphics 💜

It had been two weeks since Tom slipped through your bedroom window, his features pink from the night’s cold air and a boyish grin curled on his lips. You squeaked your surprise, your eyes wide as he pressed close to kiss, the contrast of his cold nose and hot mouth making your skin rise, tasting the pint he must’ve finished before he came tapping on your window pane. 

“Be quiet, pretty girl,” he had said, a murmur against your lips, and you sighed sweetly, his tongue pushing past your lips for another deep kiss. “We don’t want to wake no one.” 

This was true, as your father would often vocalize on how much he loathed, “that damn Bennett.” You quietly pulled him towards your bed. 

The next morning, your sheets held the tangy sweet scent of the euphoria he had pulled from you–several times–mixing with the cigarette smoke and a musk that was so distinctly his own. As you pulled them off to wash, you noticed his navy blue overcoat he had tossed onto your chair. You grabbed it as well, smiling with the thought it would be clean for when he came back.

But he did not come back that night, or the next one. 

It was now fourteen fucking days since that night together. Though your agitation with Tom Bennett was not as adamant on your every expression, something pointed out by your mother, it still thrummed beneath in such a way that rattled your bones. His coat was now clean and folded across the armrest, a mockery of that short-lived bliss.

You were on your bed and reliving the warmth of his voice that had tickled the shell of your ear, how his fingers so carefully peeled away your nightgown and the undergarments you had worn, the gentle nip of his mouth that trailed towards your core…

You burned with this memory, same as you had that night, rutting your nightgown to your hips, your fingers touching and trailing back up the damp fold of your underwear that was shaped to your lips before you dipped below the waistband. Your arousal was slick between your folds, a slow circular motion, just as Tom had done. 

When he did, he had asked you, “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” 

That arrogant bastard–but your scoff came out as a soft moan, followed with his name spilling from your lips, breathless and still wanting, “Tom…”

“Yes, love?”

The voice struck cold against your spine, your hand pulling back and your eyes snapping open to see his lean figure pulling through your window. You struggled to find your voice. “I…” you were now burning from how Tom looked over you, aglow, aware, with his damn cheeky, boyish grin splayed across his perfect mouth, “...where the hell have you been?”

Tom only hummed in response, still smirking as he peeled off his shirt, his pale chest stained pink, and climbing onto your bed. You parted your legs to let him rest into the cradle of your hips, the nip of his skin against your plush thighs making your skin rise. 

When you tried to move the offending hand, he was quick to catch your wrist, the crystalline blue of his eyes boring into you, and you stared at him a moment, watching as he brought your hand closer, pressing your middle and ring fingers to his tongue, his hot mouth closing and suckling them clean. 

Your mouth opened with a soft gasp, squirming under his weight, from the sensation of his tongue licking your fingertips. He pulled your hand back with a lewd pop and let it fall back to your side, his grin still cheeky and now almost smug. 

“They had me on remand for two weeks,” his voice was low, the blue in his eyes bright, “I came here to celebrate, but I see you started already…” 

You should have pushed him off and then back out the window he crawled in from, but your body betrayed you with a warmth pooling between. Instead, you pushed to your elbows, one hand reaching to cup the back of his neck to pull him closer for a kiss, tasting the remnants of yourself, your tongue curling against the roof of his mouth. 

Tom groaned, low, returning the passion until your breath was a heated exchange. He shifted his slender hips with a slow grind against your clothed cunt and you moaned softly, nails biting into his shoulders. He reached between, his fingertips almost tickling with his touch. 

“So wet,” and he was still smug, “and it’s all for me.” 

Your eyes were glazed already, your skin warming as you processed what he said, but before a smart comment could pass your kiss-swollen lips, his hot mouth moved to reclaim yours again. He was hard already and you could feel him, pressing against the seams of his pants, pressing against you until your heart rate could now be felt in your cunt. 

“Tom,” you moaned again, your hips lifting for the friction, “I need you.”

He pulled to lay onto his back, unfastening his buttons while you slipped your panties off. You moved to straddle him, his slender frame caught between your plush thighs and his cock hard and flushed and pressed upwards, nearly touching his belly button, slotted between your soft lips. Black now almost swallowed the brilliant blue of his eyes when they focused on your nipples that were peeking beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown; you could feel him pulse beneath you. 

Tom pushed up for another kiss, fumbling to help remove your final layer, your bare chest flushed against his as he pulled you close, and his chest hair tickled. His mouth moved towards the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest, the glisten of his spit with every intimate kiss placed.

Your back arched in response, rolling your hips against him. You reached to line him with your entrance, slowly sinking onto his length; you are wet, but there was a stretch still, a fullness that Tom fucking Bennett possessed, and it was delicious. 

“Stop clenching,” he gritted once he was fully sheathed within. Your hands moved to his chest, pushing him to lay back against the pillows; it was your turn to wear the smug smirk. 

His eyes fluttered as you slowly rocked against him, so deep you swore you saw sparks when he bottomed out. His grip dimpled with the hold he had on your hips, lifting his own in response to your motion. You gasped, soft in the quiet of the bedroom, and he repeated the movement. 

“Fucking hell,” he rasped, setting a pace that sent a tingling sensation to the ends of your appendages, returning to claw at your lower core. “You feel fucking perfect.” 

You are without words, your fingertips digging red crescents onto his pale chest for balance, chasing after your pleasure. The flutter of your walls around him had Tom groaning. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, and one of your hands lifted to touch his bottom lip and, again, his mouth closed around, his tongue coating them with his spit. You pulled back and slipped them between your blossom above where his in-and-out pace continued, a milky white ring forming around his base. 

The touch was the tipping point, spilling your climax with a clenching response to the shuddering euphoria that rippled through you. You struggled to stay quiet and Tom was quick to roll you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress. 

His large hand pressed over your mouth to muffle you, sliding back in and returning to his same brutal pace. You whimpered against his palm, still very sensitive with the final waves of your last release that was trilling your spine. 

“One more for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, and your tears were already pearling, your walls clenching with your second peak–not as intense as the first, but a prolonged pleasure with the stuttering of his hips. 

Tom pulled back, still hunched over you with his tension present in his shoulders and neck, his brow focused in a furrow as he pumped his fist, his pearly spend spilling from his flushed cockhead and across your stomach. He paused, leaning close to touch his forehead to yours, a sticky sheen from his peak, before his jaw tilted up to press a messy kiss to your hairline. 

“Alright then.” 

You blinked and he was gone, already standing and tucking himself back into his slacks before reaching to toss your nightgown to your grasp. You could already feel the heat of your returned anger spilling into your bloodstream, replacing the sweetness you felt only moments before. “You taking off to disappear another two weeks then?” Your voice was tight with the question. 

His crooked grin flashed as he crawled back onto the mattress, his mouth hot and consuming, his kiss slow and searching until it drew a small noise from you. Then Tom pulled back again, grabbing his shirt. “I have somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“Court date?” You were flushed from the kiss, but your bitter tone remained.  

“They only let me out cause I said I’d join up, but I had a change of heart on the way over,” he finished the last buttons before tucking it into the waist of his slacks, his perpetual smirk playing on his lips, “I’m a conscientious objector.” 

His Mancunian drawl emphasized the final two words. “You’re a scoundrel is what you are, Tom.”

Tom only hummed, grabbing his coat and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “You would not have me any other way,” and he moved to steal another kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue that stirred your blood again. 

But before your fingers could move to comb through his sandy locks, he pulled away, disappearing out through your window and into the night. 

You fell back onto your sheets with their tangy sweet scent of the intimacy shared, of cigarette smoke and the musk that was so distinctly Tom fucking Bennett’s. 

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl

arcie's ewanverse masterlist

[ladystarksneedle]

Tried my hand at giffing

[humanpurposes]

Just for a moment, part iii

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues

Words: 5400

A/n: Also available to read on AO3.

Monday 27th May, 1940

The morning starts off with a miserable drizzle. Kitty watches the grey fade to warmth through her shift, until the early evening sun shines brightly through the wide windows of the shop.

The month of May has very much been the same, cold and wet at first, but the weather has been clearing up nicely. Dad is devoted to the garden now, digging up the grass and planting vegetables in every free space he can. It’s on posters all over the shop: Dig For Victory. Live off spuds and SPAM when the rations run out.

Life feels mechanical; most days she doesn’t feel like a real person at all. All week she stands behind the counter, exchanging coupons for pitiful amounts of tea and sugar, stocking up the rack of newspapers and skimming over whatever horrors the headlines are screaming about that day. When she gets home, she pulls together some kind of dinner from what food they have while dad sits by the wireless. When mam gets home from the munitions factory, they gather around the table and eat in silence.

The house is so quiet without the boys. The only time it feels a little lively is when they get a letter from one of them, but they aren’t very consistent, especially considering there’s three of them.

Every so often, she gets a letter from Tom Bennett, but she tends to keep those to herself.

Her life has become a waiting game, she realises, existing between brief moments of happiness with nothing but her memories to entertain herself. She finds herself thinking about Tom an awful lot. It’s not so bad during the day when she has something to do, but when she lies alone at night, her mind can wander. She still leaves her window unlocked and huddles close to the wall because maybe— just maybe, he’ll come through the window and fill the space beside her.

Once she’s packed up the register and put up the shutters, she waves goodbye to Mr Gregory and leaves him to lock the door.

She runs into the postman at the top of Slade Grove. She feels slightly less guilty for not remembering his name when he greets her as “Catherine.” It’s what her teachers at school used to call her, and it’s what mam calls her when she’s in a particularly foul mood. Now it just puts her on edge.

“Can I give these to you now?” he says, handing her a stack of three envelopes. “Saves me a house later on.”

She flicks through them as she carries on walking. Two are addressed to Michael Wheelan and they look boring, letters from the bank or something official, but upon seeing the third she stops and smiles.

Miss Catherine Wheelan 28 Slade Grove Longsight, Manchester United Kingdom

It’s written in Tom’s handwriting.

She tears it open immediately, her eyes flickering between the page and the street ahead, weaving through any passersby.

Dear Kitty,

Sorry it’s been a while since the last one. Morale hasn’t been the best to be honest. Do you know what they’re calling the last eight months now? “The phoney war”. Apparently things are only going to get worse from here, not that it’ll help your nerves.

Thanks for checking up on dad for me. I do worry about him being on his own, with Lois being away and all. I wonder if she’ll be back yet by the time you get this. Have you heard much from your lads? I hope they’re doing alright.

You’ll be pleased to know I haven’t been picking as many fights, but sure you know me, sometimes I can’t help myself. I’ve been reading over what you said. I know it’s not helpful, I know it’s stupid, but then I’ve never been one to think things through, have I? I suppose that’s not much of an excuse. It’s instinctive. It’s like my head tells me what I’m doing is wrong, but I don’t know what else to do.

And we could die any day. Kitty, the state I’ve seen some of these men in…

The writing becomes crooked and trails off, ending with a smudge of ink.

Maybe I should write about something less depressing? Did I tell you about this gorgeous bird I met at Port Stanley?

Kitty’s heart drops.

Beautiful thing she is. The moment I saw her I knew I had to have her, so I stowed her away and brought her on board with me. She whistles a lot, and she has these lovely yellow feathers that really brighten up the bunk. She’s a noisy eater though, munches on seeds like she’ll never eat again. I’ve named her Vera.

I can see the look on your face now. Don’t worry, pretty Kitty, there’s no other bird that could ever replace you.

“Charming,” she mutters to herself.

I think I quite like these letters really, it’s nice to give myself a moment to think, even if I can’t hear from you straight away. That’s when I miss you the most, right after I’ve sealed the envelope and written your address. I hate the waiting.

She glances up, seeing she’s only a few doors down from her house.

I should have leave coming up soon. I’m looking forward to putting my legs on dry land and sleeping on a proper mattress…

She checks the top of the page. The letter is dated from weeks ago. “Soon” could mean anything.

… and the odd late-night tryst to see my fancy woman at number 28.

She scoffs a small laugh.

I bet you’d slap me for that. God I hope your mum doesn’t get her hands on this before you. Ey up Mrs Wheelan, see what I meant was, your Kitty’s a very well-mannered lady.

She purses her lips in an attempt not to laugh, coming to stop before her own front door.

Take care of yourself Kitty. Don’t spend too much time fretting over me.

Your dear friend,

Tom Bennett

Her smile fades quickly— why shouldn’t she worry about him?

It’s always the same with letters from Tom. Her heart leaps and for a few brief moments she feels so bright, just to have some kind of news from him. She could read pages and pages of his stupid ramblings and his moments of sincerity, but then it’s over all too soon. He signs off as her dear friend, then suddenly the words on the page are no longer new, and he’s still thousands of miles away, picking fights with his crewmates and launching shells at German ships.

The days pass slowly, but when she stops and looks back, the eight months have felt like nothing. Her life is flying past her and she hardly even notices, too caught up in the memory of those nights in September.

All for him to call her his fancy woman and feed her jokes about birds.

She knows better than to get her hopes up with Tom; she’s seen him go through every crush he’s ever had. He used to go through phases of ditching her for whichever sweetheart he was entertaining at the time, only to come crawling back to her when he’d inevitably cock it all up. Because he’s Tom Bennett, and he can’t help but make a mess of everything.

And like a good friend, she always kept her window unlocked for him, always held him when he needed it and did her best to set him straight. Because that’s what friends are supposed to do, surely, and he never said they were more.

Is that truly all she is to him? A dear friend, a listening ear and a convenient shag.

She rubs her fingers over her eyes because she will not cry over Tom Bennett. With the letter back in its envelope, she puts it into her bag and tries to find her keys, when she notices the smell of cigarette smoke. It’s hardly a rarity, but it makes her think of him.

For whatever reason, she glances over her shoulder at number 27. Low and behold, she sees a man with a cocky smile in a tight, white t-shirt, leaning in the doorway, lowering a cigarette from his mouth.

“Alright, pretty Kitty?” Tom says. “Was waiting for you to notice me–”

Suddenly she’s flying across the street and flinging her arms around his neck. She stands on her tiptoes to put her head over his shoulder and he leans into her, holding one arm over her back and one around her waist.

She closes her eyes. His breath is hot against her neck. He is here. He is real. He is more than a memory or words on a page.

Tom presses a soft kiss to her temple and she feels him smiling against her skin. “Take it you missed me then?”

She pulls away, holding back the urge to cry again, hardly able to catch her breath. This close, she can see every detail of him this close, the texture of his skin, the lines around his mouth and brows, the circles under his eyes, the scruff along the sides of his jaw, the little cleft on the tip of his nose. “Maybe a little bit,” she says.

She gives a little yelp of surprise when she feels him pulling her into the house. He closes the door behind them and then her back is against the wall, her handbag dropped by her feet.

Tom shrugs her coat from her shoulders before he surges in to kiss her, fiercely, desperately. Their bodies are tangled in one another, her hands in his hair, his tracing over the curves of her body through her dress.

And then he moves away. She tries to follow him only to realise he’s smirking.

“Missed me just a little bit?” he teases.

She wants to roll her eyes, but she just smiles. “Quite a bit.”

He drags his thumb over her lower lip, pulling it down to watch it come back into place.

Kitty huffs impatiently as she nudges her nose up into his.

Their eyes meet and the anticipation lasts a lifetime.

Tom hums as he leans in to kiss her again, slower and deeper, pressing her a little further into the wall by the firm hold on her waist.

“Missed you,” he utters between kisses, “so fucking much.”

She runs her hands over every part of him she can reach, his neck, the sharp line of his jaw, over his ears and into his hair.

“How long have you been back?” she breathes.

“Since this morning,” he says, coming to kiss her neck, the spot he knows will have her back arching against him.

“You didn’t come to the shop,” she says.

“Wanted to wait for you.”

She glances down the hallway, to the seemingly empty kitchen.

Tom huffs and pulls away from her, leaning with one hand against the wall. “Dad’s flogging his paper. Lois is out. Empty house for a few hours.”

She turns her head back to face him, pleased at the flush in his cheeks and the mess she’s made of his hair.

Tom’s eyes look down to her waist, where he presses his thumb into the fabric of her dress. “Come upstairs,” he says lowly, “I want to fuck you properly.”

She nods mindlessly, closing her hand around his as he leads her up the stairs, to a bedroom with two single beds, separated by a curtain. The room is about the same size as the boys’ bedroom in her house, but with only two beds, there’s enough space for two separate wardrobes. Her brothers make do with sharing everything.

Nothing about the room denotes Tom Bennett, not the floral wallpaper or the knitted throws on the beds. Not the books, perfume bottles and silver candelabras on the mantle, and certainly not the lingering scent of hairspray.

He leads her to the bed furthest from the door. She follows the stream of sunlight coming in from the window, and then she notices the details that are his. The ashtray and the empty beer bottle on the bedside table, the ditty bag and the pairs of boots at the foot of the bed, and the sailor’s hat left on the floor by the wardrobe.

The door closes and his footsteps tread softly behind her. His hands snake around her waist and turn her to face him.

She places her hands on his chest, running her hands over his torso, mapping his body through the soft cotton t-shirt. He feels firmer than he used to, a consequence of loading shells into guns and living off rations. She feels along his arms too, over muscles, veins, tendons and the scar below his bicep.

Tom presses a kiss to her forehead before he starts to undo the buttons on the front of her dress. A familiar restlessness rises in her belly, and suddenly she thinks she can’t bear to wait another moment. With the buttons undone, she puts her hands over Tom’s as he slides the dress down to the floor, along with her stockings and quickly slips out of her shoes.

She wastes no time unclasping her brassiere and muffles Tom’s awestruck groan by pressing her lips to his.

Somehow he manages to rid himself of his t-shirt and slacks without parting from her for too long, and he guides them both to the bed. She giggles as he lands on top of her and the metal bedframe squeaks.

“Now,” Tom says, pressing a delicate kiss to her neck. “Don’t have to worry about being quiet like we usually do, do we?”

“No…” Kitty breathes as he moves down, dragging his lips and tongue down her body. When he comes to her breasts, he cups one with his hand, and takes the other nipple in his mouth. Her head rolls back against the pillows but she brings her eyes back to him. She wants to cling to every moment, every sensation, all the movements of his tongue against her skin and his hair falling in front of his face.

“Eight fucking months,” he half growls as he moves further down, kissing along her stomach and running his hands over her hips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She instinctively bites her lip when he ghosts his lips over her clothed cunt.

He tuts. “Don’t hold back on me now, sweetheart. I want to hear how much you missed me,” he says, curling his fingers around the hem of her underclothes before dragging them along her legs, leaving them somewhere on the floor.

He trails teasing kisses along her thighs. She squirms and whines every time he edges closer to her centre, until finally, he drags his tongue through her folds, from her entrance, up to her pearl with a deliciously agonising pressure. She doesn’t hold back the moans that sound in her throat, curling her fists through the bedsheets.

He works over her pearl with his tongue and lips, groaning against her as he does it and squeezing his fingertips into the flesh of her thighs.

It’s been so long since she’s felt like this, even on the nights when she felt herself getting too desperate, she can never quite match the feeling.

In a way it infuriates her that he can make her feel so good, but what’s worse than that is that he knows it. She can see his smug, half smile as he mouths at her cunt, so pleased at the noises she makes and the way her hips are starting to move against him.

She curls in on herself as her peak washes over her, but he manages to hold her down, right where he wants her, and keeps going until her whole body shudders and her legs are quivering.

“Fuck,” she breathes, “Tom…”

Even then he doesn’t give her much of a reprieve. He moves back for a moment before he positions her legs over his shoulders. His tongue is against her again, only now he moves lower, teasing over her entrance.

She whines impatiently.

“Fucking greedy, aren’t you?” Tom chuckles. He licks over her again— too much and not enough. “Just take it, take what I give you.”

But it doesn’t take long for him to slip his tongue inside her while his nose nudges against her. His name is a dreamy chant on her lips now. The pleasure rises and burns until she’s sure she can’t take anymore. She threads her fingers into his hair, gripping at it, urging him on, just a little more, and she’s sure she’ll fall apart.

Then he’s gone without warning, but he soon compensates the loss by replacing his tongue with a single finger.

Tom gazes up at her through his lashes. He keeps his eyes on her face as he pushes inside of her, deeper, deeper, until she takes a sharp intake of breath when he finds her sweet spot.

“Give me another one,” he groans, lowering his head down to circle his tongue over her. “Come on, pretty Kitty.”

She follows it like a command. Her second peak is sharper than the first and has her gasping for breath as she feels herself come undone around him.

“There you go,” Tom grins as he brings her legs from his shoulders and starts to make his way up her body.

He props himself over her, one hand on either side of her head. His silver chain, usually hidden below his shirt, dangles in front of her as their eyes meet. They breathe together, chests rising and falling in perfect unison.

He hesitates for a moment, before he places a lazy kiss to her lips. “God,” he utters, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, do you know that?”

“Just keep saying it,” she says.

He takes one of her hands and guides it down to his briefs. She traces her fingers over the hem before she slides underneath and wraps them around his already hard cock.

“Fuck—” Tom hisses through his teeth, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight. He reaches for the bedside table and hands her a condom. “Do the honours for me,” he grins.

She tears it open and reaches back down to slide it along his length.

Slowly, he lets his weight fall against her as he slides inside of her, burying his face into her neck and letting out a shaky breath against her skin.

She brings her arms around his shoulders as he rocks into her, gently at first, but she can feel that it’s not enough. His breaths are getting sharper and his thrusts harsher as he whimpers into her neck.

She holds him as tightly as she can, hoping it will somehow soothe the ache in her heart, because she still feels the absence of the last eight months. Because she can already feel the time slipping away.

Tom withdraws from her neck. “Look at me,” he pleads.

She does, and he brings his forehead to hers. His nose presses into hers and their lips barely brush over each other.

“You feel so good,” he says. His expression fades into something darker and more determined as he fucks her harder and faster, “so fucking tight.”

She feels it too, the urgency to make up for the time and the distance with a carnal need.

They reach their climaxes together, moaning into each other’s mouths and keeping their bodies tight together. It never feels close enough.

Once they’ve caught their breath and they feel their desire mounting again, Tom lies back on the bed and brings her to straddle him.

While the position isn’t unfamiliar, the movements are, but she’s eager enough, gauging both of their reactions as she grinds her hips against his. She goes slowly, at first, bracing herself against him while Tom keeps hold of her waist to guide her movements.

“Nice and slow, just like that,” he whispers, gazing up at her with a slight smile, “show me how much you missed me.”

She doesn’t care how the bed creaks under them, that she’s breathing and moaning too loudly. There’s something freeing and unashamed about how they fuck. Seeing Tom’s face twisted in pleasure and hearing his needy whines as he starts to buck his hips to match her movements.

And when another climax tears through her, she wishes she could drag the moment out forever.

Tom takes her in his arms as they collapse back on the bed.

She feels like she’s dreaming, not quite awake but still aware of whose arms are cradled around her, whose heartbeat she feels against her ear, who reaches for a packet of cigarettes and flicks his lighter.

They talk about things they’ve already discussed over letters, the bloody war and all the misery that comes with it. Life in Longsight seems dull in comparison to Tom’s tales of sea battles and antics on board the Exeter. But even in the middle of the Atlantic, in the midst of a war that’s consuming the whole world, he still found time to wind everybody up. She can’t tell if she hates him or admires him for it.

There’s something different about him. Where he used to sound so cocksure and carefree, his voice is duller.

Tucked under his shoulder, she shifts her head to get a better look at him, propped up against the pillows, taking drags from his cigarette, pouting his lips as he exhales the smoke and tapping the ash into the tray. Her eyes tell her it’s the same person, the same jaw, the same nose, the same lips, the same shade of blue in his eyes.

No… he looks different in the way his face falls. He seems less smug than he used to be. He seems tired, older, colder.

Of course he’s different, how could he not be? The war has reached every corner of the world, but he’s been in the thick of it.

“Your dad must be glad to have you back,” she says quietly.

Tom’s body tenses underneath her. He brings his cigarette to his lips again, giving a little irritated huff as he exhales. She wonders if that’s a thread she should avoid tugging on, but it already seems to be unraveling. He reaches to stub the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“I didn’t want to go back,” he mutters, his expression stern and sad. “I thought I was doing the right thing by going. I’ve spent enough of my life making a mess of everything, I thought if I did something good then…” he glances down at her, then shakes his head. “But I was so fucking scared—” his voice breaks his eyes are glistening.

Kitty sits up and clenches her hand around his. He’s trembling.

“You’re alright,” she says, softly, “you’re alright.”

He breathes quickly and she can feel his heart thundering in his chest. His descriptions of the attacks on the Exeter and the aftermaths had been brief, which she thought must have been a way to protect her from it on his part. Maybe he didn’t want it in writing, maybe he didn’t want to think about it once he had lived it, to be surrounded by fire, smoke and death at every turn.

“I thought dad would help me. I told him I didn’t want to go back, I thought he could help me somehow.”

“And what did he say?”

His nostrils flare as he huffs again. “He thinks it’ll be a bad look for the movement. He doesn’t think I’m genuine.”

Kitty strokes her thumb over his knuckles and his fingers tighten around hers.

“For a moment I thought he’d be pleased,” he says, his voice thick and coarse, “just for a moment.

She breathes through the tight feeling in her chest. “Maybe if you spoke to him again—”

“No,” he says bitterly. “Made up his mind now. Sure, what does it matter either way? I’m not much use here.”

The light feeling in her limbs is starting to fade. She feels solid and heavy where her body meet the mattress.

“Your dad needs you,” Kitty says, “and Lois.”

He scoffs.

“Don’t tell me you’re upset with her too?”

Tom frowns. “Stupid fucking mistake. What does she think she’s going to do now?”

“She told you then?”

“She sent a letter.”

Lois had called in a few weeks ago to tell them the news. Mam already had her suspicions, even though Lois was barely showing. She and dad were horrified, but of course they didn’t make that clear until after she had left. “A baby on the way and no husband, for shame.”

“She knows it was stupid, but she’s not asking anyone else to deal with the consequences,” Kitty says.

“All because she wanted to mess around with some posh boy.”

Kitty swallows down the dry feeling in her throat. “I don’t think what she did was much different to me and you.”

Tom looks down at her with wide eyes. “Me and you are different,” he says.

“How so?”

His lips shift, like he might say something, but he doesn’t. “I don’t know, I thought Lois was more sensible than this.”

“She’s certainly not done herself any favours, but you won’t help by being angry at her.”

“But she’s always been the responsible one, you know?”

“That’s not fair, Tom, she’s your sister not your mother.”

Tom stares up at the ceiling with his lips parted. “No… I suppose not.”

He turns his head into her. “I should never have gone in the first place.”

There’s lots of things that she thinks she would want to change. Sometimes she wishes Tom wasn’t so reckless and impulsive. She wishes he’d find an interest that wouldn’t end him up in trouble with the police. She wishes he really was a pacifist, and that way he would be here, and the only thing separating them would be a single street and two windows. It hurts to think of what could have been.

But those things cannot be changed, and even then, he wouldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be the Tom Bennett she’s adored for as long as she’s had memories of him.

She shifts against him, hooking her arm over her chest and her leg over his hips. “I know things are hard,” she says. “Just don’t leave them on a bade note. You’ll regret it if you do.”

They don’t speak for a while. The evening drags on, the sun dips lower in the sky, voices and the shouts of children sound from the street and Kitty is content lie beside him, listening to his heartbeat and his slow, controlled breaths, while he plays with her hair.

“I love you,” he breathes, so softly she thinks it might be a voice in her head. “When we got hit, it was all I could think about. That I might die then and there, and you’d never know.”

She feels her mouth break into a smile. “You love me?”

“Oh leave off, I’ve said it now,” he says with a grin.

They dress and he leads her downstairs to the kitchen. While he fusses with the kettle, Kitty takes a seat at the table.

“You’ve not met Vera yet,” Tom says over his shoulder, nodding at the small birdcage on the table. Inside, a little, yellow canary with black, beady eyes tilts her head and chirps.

“Hello, Vera,” Kitty says.

Vera chirps back.

Tom turns back around with a single cup of tea and a plate of toast. “Have to be stingy with the butter and milk, obviously,” he says setting them in front of her.

“Oh,” she says, “no, I won’t have any, don’t waste your rations on me.”

Tom angles his brows at her. “It’s not a waste.” He takes a seat in the chair opposite and lights a cigarette. “Come on, you’ve been on your feet all day.”

She hesitates before she reaches for the milk, spilling the smallest dash she can manage into the cup and skipping the sugar. Then she takes a cut of butter no larger than her thumbnail and spreads it across the toast. She takes a few tentative bites, ushering some back to him and tearing off a few crumbs to feed to Vera. Even the most mundane parts of life have become luxuries now.

“How long are you back for?” she asks.

“A week.”

“And then?”

“Off to Dover. They’ve got some big operation planned.”

“And will you be back after that?”

He draws his tongue between his lips. “I don’t know.”

Before long, the front door unlocks and Lois’ heels click through the hallways as she comes into the kitchen. “Dad not back yet?” she says, tossing her coat over the banister. She stops at the head of the table and looks between the two of them. She’s holding a brown paper bag. “Hello, Kitty. I’ve just been in to see your mum.”

“Oh she’ll be wondering where I am,” Kitty says, glancing across to Tom.

His chin is tilted down, and he looks up at her through the smoke with pleading eyes, like an injured puppy.

“Tell ‘em the Gregorys invited you up for tea,” Lois shrugs. She reaches into the bag and pulls out tiny pieces of clothing that are vaguely familiar to Kitty. “For the baby,” she says. “Thank God your mum kept all your old stuff.”

“Make do and all that,” Kitty says, briefly catching Tom’s eye.

She downs her tea and hurries to the hallway. Tom had left her coat over a sofa in the front room, and her bag is still on the floor. She tuts at his carelessness and shouts a farewell to Lois as Tom comes to see her to the door.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he says formally, with the corners of his mouth curled.

“Of course,” she replies, peering round his shoulder to see if Lois can see them.

Tom looks round too and smiles back at her as he leans into her ear. “A pleasure, as always, pretty Kitty.” He catches her lips in a quick peck before he opens the door for her.

She hurries across the street and finds her keys in her handbag. Before she opens her own door, she looks back to number 27. The glow of the spring evening beams off the red bricks of the houses and Tom looks golden, watching her through the haze of smoke from his cigarette.

It’s like before, all those months ago, before he first went away.

Each night, Tom steals into her bedroom. They kiss as quietly as they undress each other and set themselves down on her bed.

It gets more unbearable with every day that goes by. Each hour is an hour closer to carrying on with her life without him, when he’ll become another person to wait for, another reason why she wants this war to end.

On their last night, he fucks her from behind, keeping her mouth covered and muffling his own sounds in the crook of her neck. His breath and the hold on her mouth only makes her more desperate.

If anything, that first evening has ruined her, going back to gentle lovemaking is excruciating.

She quietly pleads for “more… more…”

Tom clamps his hand tighter around her mouth. “No, no, no, be a good girl,” he whispers harshly, “just be a good girl for me, Kitty.”

Once they’re both too tired to carry on, he wraps his arms around her. He tells her he loves her, and she says it back.

Dover is closer than the Atlantic at least, but the distance is all the same. He’ll still be gone.

She watches him as he dresses and follows him to the window. Before he leaves, he kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her still bare body against him.

When they move away for breath she gazes into his eyes. She could never forget them, the storm of blue and grey rings around his pupil, but he already feels like a memory, something intangible, there but not quite.

He presses a kiss to her forehead and his lips linger there. “When I get my next leave, I’ll come straight to you,” he says.

She doesn’t doubt it’s a promise he’ll keep. Tom Bennett doesn’t often make promises to her, but so far, he’s never broken one.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa @whoknows333

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Kindling

16/12: Fireplace and Face Fucking - Tom Bennett Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: oral (m receiving), face fucking, slight hair pulling

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: Can be read as a standalone or a little continuation of Postcards.

She didn’t know it was going to be the most difficult time of year until it was. 

Christmas was always dear to her. Granda used to make a huge show of it, decorating the post office to the nth degree, gaudy and if not a little overboard for just the local. But it was one of the few things that miserable old sod put any effort into, and seemingly enjoyed. Although the job of shovelling the snow and chipping ice off the front steps was always down to her, to her dismay.

It would be the first year without him.

Since he passed away, even when Tom came around sometimes to cheer her up when he had a spare moment, it was too quiet. The radio seemed to be perpetually on the last few weeks, and in between seeing off the postman at the door with his usual round and greeting the regulars, she’d find herself just wandering in circles, kicking her pumps on the floorboards, wondering what she could do to spruce the place up. Make it feel less like a funeral home and more like it did when Granda was alive.

She was counting the till, counting in tens in her head when the unmistakable bell prompted her to lift her eyes to the entrance. The sharp winter wind rattled the old glass window, and in stepped Tom Bennett, his frame filling the small post office like he’d never left.

He stood there, looking quite pleased with himself as he held the smallest christmas tree she’d ever seen in one hand. She had to press her lips together, not wanting to offend him.

“Bit small, isn’t it?”

Tom grinned, the sort that had once made her weak in the knees when he strolled into the post office in his navy blues. Now, bundled in a thick wool coat with a scarf looped haphazardly around his neck, he looked less like the gallant sailor and more like a man who’d just wrestled a tree out of the back of a van.

“Compact. Excuse you,” he corrected, stepping further in. Snowflakes clung to his hair, and his cheeks were ruddy from the cold. He leaned the poor looking tree against the front desk, bracing it then with both hands, ungloved she noted.

“It’ll look nice in the corner. Once we’ve decorated,” she smiled.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his lips quirking into a grin. “That’s the spirit, postie.”

“And what exactly was your plan if I said no?” she asked, organising the coins she had counted away.

“Would’ve camped out here until you gave in,” he said without missing a beat. “Might’ve sung a carol or two to win you over.”

She rolled her eyes in good fun, watching as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of the chair behind her. The room immediately felt smaller, warmer, as if his presence had filled all the empty corners. She felt him move in behind her, his chest brushing her back, his warmth, the faint scent of the cold clinging to him.

“What are you—” she began, but her words were cut off with a sharp gasp as his cold hands slipped inside the back of her blouse, pressing against the curve of her waist. “Tom Bennett! Your hands are freezing!” she exclaimed, jolting forward with a laugh, half outraged, half delighted.

He laughed and tightened his hold to keep her from wriggling away. “And you’re so warm,” he quipped, as if that justified his antics. His chest pressed against her back, solid and familiar, and she could feel the low rumble of his laughter against her spine.

She half-heartedly tugged his hands away, shifting in his hold to face him. Despite his behaviour, she couldn’t help the warm tug at her heart whenever she saw him this close, face to face. The softening of his blue eyes, the dark blonde hair that was styled from his face. She slung her arms over his shoulders, giving him a mocking stern expression.

“If you’re that cold, go sit in front of the fire like a normal person.”

Tom’s grin turned boyish, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. “Oh, I could,” he drawled, leaning in just enough to close the space between them. “But then I wouldn’t get to steal all your warmth, now would I?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, feigning indifference, but even she couldn’t keep it up. She leaned down to take his icy hand, dragging him to the back room where the fireplace was lit. “Come on, before you turn into a block of ice.”

Tom followed willingly, his larger hand engulfing hers as they moved towards it. The fire crackled softly, their shadows large behind them dancing gently. She guided him to sit on the rug in front of the fireplace, and he settled himself down with a satisfied groan, stretching his long legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands.

“Better?” she asked, kneeling down beside him.

“Much,” he replied, tilting his head to look at her with that easy grin.

Her eyes flicked, almost unbidden, to the sofa behind them. It sat in the corner of the room, its upholstery a little more worn than she remembered. And yet, it was impossible to forget that night, Tom’s first leave in months, the unanswered letters, the deep, burning need…

Her blush deepened, and she quickly turned back to the fire, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

But Tom, of course, noticed everything. His grin turned sly, his head tilting slightly as he followed her gaze. When his eyes landed on the sofa, realisation dawned, and his smile grew wicked.

“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning closer to her. “I was wondering why you went all rosy just now. Taking a little trip down memory lane, are we?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“It's alright, love. It's one of my favourite memories too. If not my favourite,” he winked, and she could no longer blame the heat in her stomach on being sat in front of the fire. 

“Stop it,” she smiled bashfully.

“It's definitely seen better days,” he joked, “do you reckon we broke it last time?” he asked, getting up and dragging himself over to the battered old thing.

“Tom, don't—”

He settled onto the sofa with a satisfied sigh, looking up at her. "Reckon it's taken a beating from us both," he teased, settling back against the cushions.

She shook her head, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She was about to call him an idiot when the cheeky glint in his eyes caught her attention. His gaze slid down her body, pausing with a knowing flicker as he leaned forward.

“You know, you look good from this angle.”

“Tom.”

“What?” he asked innocently, though the slow, smug smile spreading across his face was anything but.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me,” she said, trying to sound stern, though the warmth spreading through her chest made it difficult. She shifted across the floorboards, her hands sliding up his calves as she rested her cheek against his knee, looking up at him through her lashes.

Tom’s smirk faltered, his shoulders stiffening ever so slightly as he sat up straighter. She could see the moment her boldness caught him off guard, his breath hitching just enough for her to notice.

All the same, his hands were restless as they always were. And his hand slid over his leg to cup her face in his palm, his thumb running across her lower lip. She could tell by that look, that signature look, like a thought he had yet to speak aloud. The look he gave her when the rest of the world fell away.

“You know what you’re doing,” he murmured, his voice quieter. His thumb lingered, brushing over her lip again as his eyes searched hers.

“Do I?” she replied softly, her tone teasing despite the way her own breath had turned shallow. 

She righted to kneel between his legs, gently nudging them apart to sit between them, her hands sliding up to his thighs, the fabric of his trousers rough against her fingertips, feeling the muscles flex under her touch the closer she came to where he needed her most.

Tom's eyes darkened, watching. “You have a talent for this, love. Driving me mad, that is.”

She smirked, reaching for the buckle of his belt sat snug in his trousers loops. His hips shifted to aid her as she pulled the leather loose, slow, annoyingly unhurried.

Her fingers paused, her eyes flicking up to his as she tilted her head. “You sound awfully sure of yourself for a man about to beg,” she teased, her voice soft but dripping with mock innocence.

His laugh was low, rumbling in his chest. “Beg? Me? Sweetheart—”

Whatever witty remark he was about to make disappeared the moment her hand slid lower, grazing him through the fabric of his trousers. His words faltered, his breath catching in a way that sent a ripple of satisfaction through her.

“That’s what I thought,” she said softly, her tone still playful as she worked the buttons of his trousers, enough to free him into her palm. Her lips ghosted over him in tiny, barely-there kisses, each one deliberate, maddeningly light. She could feel the heat of him, the slight shudder in his thighs, and it sent a thrill through her.

She'd never tire of his scent. How much he needed her. Evident by the fact that merely five minutes of teasing had him rock hard and ready.

“Love,” he rasped, “you’re killing me.”

“Good,” she murmured, her voice feather-light, teasing, before laying another soft kiss along his length. Her tongue darted out between her lips, trailing a line from the base of him to the sensitive tip, before her lips parted to take him in.

Whatever quip he had died in his throat, replaced by a guttural sound that sent heat spiraling low in her belly. His fingers slid into her hair, and his grip tightened, his hips jerking slightly as she moved, her rhythm slow and deliberate, savouring the way he unravelled under her.

“Christ,” Tom hissed, his head tipping back as his free hand gripped the armrest of the battered sofa, knuckles white.

She glanced up at him through her lashes, her gaze locking with his. The sight of him undone, his flushed cheeks, his parted lips, his eyes heavy with desire. This was her favourite Tom Bennett, she decided.

She whined around him, feeling his grip in her hair unyielding, his hand guiding her mouth on him faster than her pace originally allowed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice strained, but his hips pushed forward, seeking more. She let him, her hands steadying herself against his thighs as he took over, his control slipping entirely.

His restraint unravelled with every thrust of his hips. His breaths were short, ragged, each one punctuated by a deep. Her throat worked to take him, her nails curling into his legs as the force of him overwhelmed her, but she didn’t pull away.

When he climaxed, it was with a low, broken growl of her name, his grip tightening briefly before he stilled, his body trembling as he released into her mouth. She stayed with him, taking everything he gave, her touch softening as his tension melted away.

As she finally pulled back, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, Tom slumped against the sofa, his head falling back as he caught his breath. But after a moment, his gaze shifted to hers, his expression softening.

“I got a bit carried away there. Didn’t mean to, you know, throttle you or anything,” his voice low and hoarse, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek.

She huffed a laugh, her lips quirking into a smile as she tilted her head into his touch. “You’re saying this now?” she teased.

His lips twitched into a small grin, though he still looked a bit sheepish. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She smiled reassuringly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips as she straddled his lap where he sat. “No, Tom. You didn’t hurt me.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, a cheeky spark lighting up in his gaze as he leaned back against the sofa. “Well, in that case,” he said with a smirk, his hand sliding around her waist to pull her closer, “how about we give this sofa another run for its money? I don't think you've warmed me up enough yet.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, though she couldn't deny that the same feeling was pulsing low in her stomach, forming a damp patch in her knickers.

“Fine. But if we break it this time, you're fixing it.”

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[hoosbandewan]

EWAN MITCHELL as TOM BENNETT World on Fire (2019-2023)

[myfandomprompts]

The beauty of EWAN MITCHELL

[ewanmitchelldaily]

TOM BENNETT WORLD ON FIRE SEASON 1 EPISODE 2

[aemondsbabe]

A Promise is a Promise

summary: promises & phone sex || tom's trying his best to make it home to you by christmas, but a snowstorm derails his plans

pairing: tom bennett x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, phone sex, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, breast/nipple play, very slight angst but happy ending, probably not historically accurate bite me, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.3k

a/n: happy day eleven of 12 days of smuff and happy christmas eve to everyone who celebrates!! hope y'all enjoy this one! Can be read as a part 2 to Homecoming or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @rxyl

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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Your breath fogs up the window as you look outside one last time, sighing heavily as you watch puffy snowflakes rain down from the sky, scattering through the pale yellow shafts of light from the street lamps. You peer up and down the quiet street, frowning at the sight of all the twinkling lights and festive candles that decorated so many of the townhouses, feeling decidedly un-cheery this year. 

Deciding that it wasn’t worth it to torture yourself further, you pad up the stairs to your bedroom, trying to ignore the soft glow from the Christmas tree in the front room. Your footsteps sound much louder than normal in the quiet house since your parents were out for the evening, attending some holiday party at a friend's house, one that you were in much too foul of a mood to even consider attending. 

You’ve hardly had the chance to change your clothes before the phone in your room starts ringing loudly, making you jump. Sitting on your bed, you roll your eyes as you reach for it, expecting it to be your parents or some friend, calling half drunk from a party no doubt. 

“Hello?” You sigh, pressing the phone to your ear as you stare disdainfully out the window, watching more and more of the traitorous snow fall from the dark sky. 

“Well, try not to sound too excited.” A familiar voice chuckles, instantly making you perk up.

“Tom?!” Your eyes widen as you press the phone harder against your ear, “Where are you? Are you okay? I thought you said you’d be home this afternoon!”

You can hear him laugh on the other end of the line at your rushed questions. “Relax, love, I’m fine,” he sighs, you can hear springs squeak softly in the background, like he’d sat down on a bed, “The train’s just got delayed, ice on the rails or some fucking nonsense, and with the damn snowstorm, well…” He sighs heavily.

“Delayed for how long?” You ask, crestfallen. 

“Dunno, the man at the station said maybe a day, maybe two,” you can practically hear his frustrated sneer, “What with it being Christmas eve, everything’s just a damn wreck, apparently.”

“Oh…” You try not to sound too heartbroken, not wanting him to feel worse, “Well, did you find somewhere to stay in the meantime? I hate the idea of you sitting at the station.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “Some shoddy little inn. The train had to stop at some farming town in the middle of God knows where, but a bed’s a bed, I suppose.” You can hear two thuds in the background, no doubt him tossing his boots off somewhere carelessly. 

“I’m glad you’re somewhere safe, Tommy,” you smile sadly, idly fidgeting with the bottom of your night shirt, well, really his nightshirt, “I wish you were with me, though.” You whisper, trying to ignore the sad little squeeze your heart gave. 

“Wish I was too, love.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, happy to simply listen to each other breathe after so many months apart. You really are trying not to let it get to you too much, but he only got so many days of leave from the RN and once he got shipped back out… you dare not think about it too deeply. 

There’s some rustling on the other end of the line and you furrow your brows as you listen, hoping the storm isn’t interfering with the phone lines too. 

“Tom?”

“‘M here,” he reassures you, springs creaking again as he settles back on the hotel bed, “Was just taking off my shirt.” He cooed, making you roll your eyes as you picture his playful smirk, your cheeks flushing as you imagined that cheeky little head bop that followed most of his lewd comments. 

“Now there’s a sight I’d like to see.” You hum, reclining back against the many pillows on your bed with a small smirk.

“Bet you’d be falling all over yourself for it,” he laughs, propping up a knee, “It’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long without it.”

“Without what?”

“My cock.” He answers, voice confident and cocky. 

“Tommy!” You squeak, giggling despite yourself, which makes him chuckle on the other end, “And here I was hoping months away would turn you into a romantic!”

“Fat chance, love.” He laughs heartily, smiling genuinely for the first time in months. 

Again, a comfortable silence washes over the two of you, each of you clinging to the phone like it was truly a lifeline, feeling closer than you have in months although you’re God knows how many kilometers apart. 

He sighs again, though this one makes you smile. It’s a familiar sigh, one he only does before he says something he knows will get a rise out of you.

“What’re you wearing?” You can hear his smirk, you can practically feel it on you as he speaks, his voice already low and raspy. 

You can’t help the tittering little giggle you let out, biting your lip as your cheeks flush further. “Erm, just your button down, actually,” you say, shy all of a sudden as you squirm atop your covers, “The one you wore in secondary some days… oh, and knickers.”

“And knickers,” he murmurs, quiet for a moment before continuing, “My girl in my shirt n’ I’m not there to see it. A real shame.”

“Yeah…” you whisper, fidgeting with the small buttons lining the front. 

“D’you have my shirt buttoned, love?”

“Yes?”

“You think you could unbutton it for me?”

The way he asks for it has your heart racing, excitement building steadily within you as you rub your thighs together, already seeking something to lessen the tension within you. Almost automatically, your hands reach for the buttons as you cradle the phone on your shoulder, holding it in place with your cheek. 

“Yes, Tommy.”

“That’s a good girl, love.” He praises, chuckling lowly as a small, delicate whimper just barely makes it through the phone lines. 

You scramble, all but ripping the shirt in two until finally the fabric falls away. You’re already breathing heavier, chest heaving enough to have the shirt slip off your chest instantly; your nipples harden quickly in the cool air of your bedroom, the small radiator only doing so much to heat the space. 

“It’s unbuttoned.” You breathe, squeezing your eyes shut as you desperately try to envision him doing the same. 

“God, I wish I was there,” he sighs and your ears perk up when you hear a soft tinkling in the background, cheeks heating up at the thought of him slowly taking off his belt, “I miss those perfect fucking tits, lovely girl. Got off thinking about them every night.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, your fingers skimming softly over your stomach, coming to rest in the valley between your breasts. 

“Mhm,” he murmurs, already breathing hotly into the phone, “Pinch them for me, pretty girl, yeah? Like I would.”

You gasp and quickly do as he requests, not being able to hold off any longer yourself. You whimper into the receiver as you tweak your nipples, your eyes roll back in your head at the thrill that shoots down your spine and settles right between your legs. 

“Fuck, good girl.” He praises again, sounding like he’s speaking through clenched teeth.

“What’re you wearing?” You ask breathily, lightly tugging at your stiff nipples still as you rub your thighs together, your center already aching, “What’re you doing?” 

“‘M rubbing my cock through my boxers,” he sighs heavily, “S’all I’ve got on.”

The thought makes you whimper again, imagining him cupping his already twitching length through the thin fabric of his underwear. Your mouth waters as you picture a wet patch near the tip, his cock leaking at the thought of you. 

“Tommy,” you sigh as your back arches into your own touch, “Can I?” 

Your meek question makes him chuckle. “Can you do what, love? You’ll need to be specific.”

You whine this time, biting your lip as your cheeks flush. “C-Can I…” you start, still feeling so impossibly shy around him sometimes, “Can I touch myself?”

“Thought you were already touching your tits?”

“Tommy!”

“C’mon, pretty,” he laughs, licking his lips as he imagines how cute you must look, cheeks all blushed with embarrassment, “Y’know what I wanna hear.”

“Can I touch my cunt?” You murmur, voice high-pitched and breathy.

“Fuck,” he breathes, head lolling back against his pillow, “Yeah, y’can, love, lemme hear you.”

Mindlessly, your hand drifts down. You don’t even bother to take off your panties, too impatient to go to the trouble as you shove your hand inside. A moan is punched out of you at the first touch, your core already throbbing as you glide your fingers through your slick folds. Tom groans along with you as your fingers finally begin swirling around your clit, your thighs spreading further. 

“What, shit,” you sigh, a shudder rippling up your spine, “What’re you doing now?”

“Got my cock out,” he rasps, his voice catching, “Thinking about you while I fuck my hand, God, I wish it was your tight cunt, pretty girl.”

You whine again, back arching once more as your fingers skim over your clit before dipping down to gather more slick from your dripping entrance. You all but see stars when you rub yourself again, core clenching around nothing. 

“Wish you were here…” You murmur, breath catching as you move your hand a little quicker. 

“Yeah?” He asks in a low voice, “What would you want me to do?”

“Fuck me,” you whine, wiggling your hips impatiently, like he was just at the end of the bed teasing you instead of lost somewhere in the countryside, “Want you to fuck me, Tommy.”

He groans, louder than he probably should in a small inn. Your face flushes when you hear him spit, imaging his cock glistening as he uses it to stroke himself. 

“Christ, I miss that pretty cunt,” he mutters, breath catching, probably speeding up in time with you, “Get a finger in there, love, fuck yourself like I would.”

Obediently, you do as he says, rutting against your own hand as you unceremoniously push two fingers into yourself, marveling at how tightly your walls already clench around them. 

“Fuck, Tommy!” You squeak, clit tingling every time your palm smacks against it as you fuck youself. 

“God, that’s it,” he groans, “Keep going, fuck, ‘m not gonna last.” He warns, knowing it’s been too long since he’d last had any privacy. 

“‘M not going to either,” you assure him, shaking your head to your empty room as if he could see you, “Feels too good, oh!” You gasp, your whole body tensing up as you crook your fingers up, expertly locating that sensitive spot within you. 

The two of you pleasure yourselves together for another few moments, heavy breaths and moans passing between the phones. Finally, Tom groans lowly again and swears through gritted teeth. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he pants, the slick sound of his hand streaking over his cock in the background nearly makes you unravel, “Cum with me, pretty girl, please.”

The whiny way he says please is your undoing and you finally break, calling out his name breathily as you arch against your sheets. Slick sounds fill your bedroom as you peak, breathless at the way your core clenches rhythmically over your fingers. 

Tom isn’t far behind you, his rough groans only adding to your pleasure. You whimper when he hisses out your name as he finishes, envisioning the way he paints his lower stomach with spend, cock twitching against his palm. 

You breathe heavily for a moment as you both come down before you dissolve into giggles, your sour mood from earlier almost completely gone. 

“Fucked you dumb n’ I’m not even there,” Tom gloats, sighing as he wipes away his cum with his boxers, too tired to get up and clean himself off properly, “You’re gonna make me blush, love.” 

“Tommy!” You groan playfully, admonishing him through a giggle, “You’re horrible.”

“You love it.” He laughs tiredly, yawning quietly. 

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, the bed squeaking again as he makes himself comfortable, “Sorry love, s’been a long day.”

“I would imagine so,” you smile sadly still, twirling the phone cord around a finger, “I’ll let you sleep.”

“I’ll get to you tomorrow,” he promises, his voice heavy with sleep, “I swear, told you I’d be back for Christmas.”

“Tommy…” You sigh, glancing out the window to see snow still pouring from the sky.

“I mean it,” he murmurs tiredly, “A promise is a promise.”

You wake with a start, jerking up in bed as you look around blearily, unsure of what woke you. Your eyes narrow as you glance at the clock on your bedside table, too early still for even your alarm to be going off. 

You jump as you hear a knock from downstairs, someone pounding at the door. Rolling your eyes, you slip on a robe before making your way downstairs. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You sigh, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you reach for the doorknob, tugging it open with a frown. 

“Wha–” You stop in your tracks, gasping loudly.

“Y’gonna let me in or are you gonna leave me out here to freeze my bollocks off?” Tom asks with a grin, laughing when you practically leap into his arms and pull him into a suffocating hug. 

“Tommy!” You gasp, clinging to him, “How did you, when did you?” You stutter, a million questions running through your mind. Finally, you pull back just enough to look at him, nearly crying as you at last look into his familiar blue eyes, “How?” You breathe.

“A very nice famer with a truck,” he laughs, holding you tightly to him, “Told ya I’d get home to you by Christmas.” 

Not being able to hold off anymore, you press your lips against his, feeling warm despite the cold.

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