Can you do Tomas Vrbada x Fem!Reader? Imagine Tomas being hugged by her, as she wraps around his back with her arms, and put her face on his chest. She just needs a comfy chest pillow to rest. 
Mortal Kombat 1: Tomas x Fem!Reader
The room was dimly lit, quiet except for the steady rhythm of Tomas’s breathing and the soft flicker of candlelight on the walls. Smoke curled lazily around his shoulders, as if it, too, had finally let itself rest. The faint scent of burning cedar still lingered, clinging to the edges of the air like a fading memory.
He hadn’t expected the door to creak open.
Your voice was soft—fragile around the edges, groggy from a nap, or maybe just from needing something warm, something steady. Something alive and present. You stood there for a moment, eyes adjusting to the dark, before you padded barefoot across the wooden floor, wrapped in a loose shirt that definitely wasn’t yours. It hung off one shoulder, and he knew it was his. That realization alone nearly made the smoke twitch at his back again, restless and ready—but not yet.
He stood by the window, arms crossed. Always alert, always braced, like a soldier waiting for the next blow. Even here. Even now.
“Are you okay?” you asked, stepping closer but not touching him yet. You never pushed. You just waited—like you trusted he’d come to you in his own time.
“I’m fine.” His voice was low, calm, but not distant. He was never distant with you. Just… careful. Like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he breathed too hard.
You didn’t say anything back—not right away. You just stepped in, closer, and slid your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek into the center of his back. His body tensed, for a heartbeat. Then softened.
His shirt smelled like firewood and winter—like him. Warm. Solid. Safe, even if he didn’t feel that way about himself.
He blinked, caught off guard—but didn’t pull away.
“Can I just… stay like this for a while?” you asked quietly. “You make a really good pillow.”
Tomas let out a breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh, but close. Almost surprised.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before,” he murmured.
“You should be,” you replied, a sleepy smile curling into your voice. “You’re shaped like one of those firm ones that people fight over on the couch.”
He snorted—a sound you didn’t get to hear often—and you felt it more than heard it, a soft vibration through his chest. His arms relaxed a little more.
He turned slowly in your arms, letting your hands glide around his sides until you were face to chest. He wrapped one arm around your back, his other hand gently cradling the back of your head. Your face pressed right into the center of his chest—exactly where you wanted to be. The firm muscle beneath his shirt made the perfect resting place. The soft thump of his heart… even better.
“Comfy?” he asked, quieter than usual, like speaking too loud might startle the moment away.
You nodded, eyes closed. “Very.”
For a long moment, neither of you said anything. His chin rested lightly atop your head, and the silence settled between you both like a thick blanket—warm, dense, a comfort rather than a weight. The air was still, except for his steady heartbeat and the growing warmth in his chest. You’d caught him off guard—again—but he liked it. He didn’t understand it, not fully, but there was something in your presence that made him want to stay still.
To stop running. To stop bracing.
“I didn’t hear you get up,” he said quietly after a while.
You hummed. “Didn’t want to wake you. You looked peaceful.”
You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded. “Then you looked like you were trying to be.”
He didn’t reply right away, but his thumb brushed lightly against the nape of your neck. “I guess I was.”
Your breath slowed to match his. You could feel the way he was still holding part of himself just out of reach—muscles still slightly tense, jaw set—but less so than before. He wasn’t used to softness. He didn’t quite know what to do with it.
But he was trying. For you, he was trying.
“You don’t always have to be on guard, you know,” you said softly. “Not with me.”
He let out a breath that sounded like surrender. “I know.”
And for once, he didn’t feel the need to vanish into smoke.
Not when you were holding him like this. Not when you made the air feel like home.
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