Summary: You and your boyfriend Tom had actually planned an evening at the pub. Meeting friends and spending a nice time together. But a snowstorm threw a spanner in the works. But that's just how Tom is: he doesn't let it spoil your evening.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW, blowjob
Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 1.7k
Other stories of mine
12 Days of Smuffmas
12 Days of Smuff
The snowstorm has descended on Manchester with a ferocity that neither Tom nor you had anticipated. By the time the first flakes started to fall, Tom had been pacing about his room, eager to take you to his favorite pub, a snug little spot tucked into a side street. It was the kind of place where the laughter of patrons mixed with the clink of glasses and the occasional strains of a piano. He’d planned to get you both a few drinks, maybe even dance if the mood struck him.
But now, the world outside his window is nothing but a swirling blur of white. The snow comes down so heavily it obliterates the view of the cobblestone streets and gas lamps he loves. It frustrates him; plans dashed by something as uncontrollable as weather.
He lets out a low sigh, exhaling smoke from the cigarette perched between his fingers. The warmth of the room contrastes starkly with the winter’s chill seeping through the cracks in the old building. His gaze shifts from the window to you, sitting cross-legged on his bed, casually flipping through a magazine. You look so at ease, lost in the glossy pages, and it brings a soft smirk to his lips.
“Y’know,” he says, his tone teasing as he flicks ash into a tray, “I was really hopin’ to show off my fancy moves at the pub tonight.” He turns fully to face you, leaning against the windowsill, the cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. “Turns out, Mother Nature’s got other ideas.”
You don‘t look up immediately, still engrossed in an article, but you hum in acknowledgment. That only spurs him on.
“Oi,” he says, stepping closer, his cheeky grin growing. “Don’t go ignorin’ me now. It’s bad enough the weather’s givin’ me the cold shoulder.”
Finally, you glance up, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sulking, Tom?”
“I’m just sayin’—seems like a shame for two good-lookin’ people like us to waste a night doin’ nothin’.”
You close the magazine and set it aside. “Well, what do you suggest? Unless you’ve got a snowplow hidden somewhere, we’re not getting out of here anytime soon.”
Tom takes a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes narrowing playfully as he considers his options. He blows out the smoke slowly, then stubbs out the cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. “Well,” he starts, his voice dropping into that familiar, mischievous lilt, “if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it… interesting.”
You tilt your head, intrigued. “Interesting how?”
“Oh, I dunno,” he says, sitting down beside you on the bed, his knee brushing yours. “Thought maybe we could find a way to keep warm. You know, since the snow’s got it freezing in here.”
You laugh softly, but his tone wasn’t entirely unserious. He leans back on his elbows, watching you with a glint in his eye, the kind that always spells trouble—or fun, depending on your perspective.
“You’re terrible,” you say, shaking your head.
“And you love it,” he shoots back, grinning. “Come on, what else are we gonna do? Sit here and stare at the walls? Nah, I reckon we make the most of it. Could even have our own little dance—no pub required.”
He pushes himself upright again, extending a hand toward you. “What d’you say? Give us a twirl, eh?”
You laugh again but take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. There isn‘t much space in his modest room, but Tom doesn‘t care. He starts humming a tune, spinning you around with a surprising amount of grace.
It doesn‘t take long for his lack of rhythm to become glaringly obvious. His steps are clumsy, a bit too eager, and he nearly trips over his own feet as he spins you around. You can’t help it—you burst into laughter, doubling over as he fumbles to regain his footing.
“Oi, what’s so funny?” he protests, though his grin is wide. He catches your hands to steady himself, his eyes twinkling with playful defiance. “I’m a bloody brilliant dancer, I’ll have you know.”
“Brilliant?” you repeat through giggles. “You’re all left feet, Tom!”
He gasps in mock outrage as if you’d just wounded his pride. “That’s rich, comin’ from someone who hasn’t danced a single proper step tonight!”
“I can’t when you’re stepping all over me,” you tease, dodging his attempt to pull you closer.
“Alright, alright,” he says, raising his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his face tells you he isn‘t done. “If dancing isn’t your thing, maybe we ought to try somethin’ else.”
You narrow your eyes, wary but amused. “Like what?”
He doesn‘t answer immediately, letting the question hang in the air as he wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you close again. His other hand rests lightly on your hip, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your skirt. The touch is casual enough to feign innocence, but the cheeky glint in his eyes betrays him.
“Oh, I dunno,” he says after a beat, his voice dropping an octave. “Reckon I’ve got a few ideas.”
“You always have ideas, Tom. Doesn’t mean they’re good ones.”
His hand on your waist tighten just slightly, pulling you even closer. “I’ll have you know, my ideas are bloody brilliant. Genius, even.”
“Right,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess—this one involves me doing all the work while you sit back and enjoy yourself?”
“Now you’re catchin’ on,” he quips, his grin widening. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “What d’you say, love? Thought you might fancy makin’ me feel better after all this weather ruined our plans.”
You shov him playfully, laughing as he tumbles back onto the bed. “You’re ridiculous,” you say, shaking your head.
Tom props himself up on his elbows, watching you with that same cheeky smirk. “Ridiculously charming, maybe. Go on, admit it—you love me for it.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrays you. Snowstorm or not, Tom knows exactly how to keep things interesting—and keep you laughing, even as his hands wandered in hopes of turning the evening decidedly in his favor.
When you finally collaps back onto the bed, Tom props himself up beside you, his face inches from yours. “See?” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Told you we’d find a way to pass the time.”
“Still terrible,” you tease. He leans in just slightly, his nose brushing against yours. “And still irresistible,” he whispers.
You giggle slightly, “Go on, tell yourself that,” you whisper teasingly and he growls slightly while his hand moves up your thigh. He kisses the tip of your nose, almost a gentle gesture if you didn't feel him gently pressing his growing hardness against you.
You giggle again, “Somehow I think I know what you have in mind for how we can pass the time,” you whisper, and he pretends to be clueless.
“I dunno what you mean...“ he mumbles with his typical grin.
”Ah... okay...“ you say and straighten up to slide off the bed. Tom watches you and raises his eyebrows slightly.
”Mhm... I think I like the way you think,” Tom says, leaning back relaxed, his arms behind his head, watching you.
You kneel between his legs, your hands gliding up his thighs, and you know how his cock is throbbing with desire in his pants. You bite your lip slightly, your hands sliding higher. Tom responds with a small growl as he watches your fingers play with the button of his pants. You slowly unbutton them, his hardness obviously pressing against the fabric of his pants.
Slowly, you push down his trousers, his length springs free. You reach for it, your teeth still not releasing your lower lip. You let your thumb slide over the tip of his cock, smearing the precum. Your eyes focus on Tom's face as his cock twitches in your hand. His eyes are closed and he moans slightly. You love these moments when his cheeky nature fades into the background and you just see pure emotion flowing through him.
Slowly, you lean forward and your lips close around the tip of his cock.
“Fuck,” Tom growls, his hips twitching involuntarily as you gently suck. The salty taste of his precum spreads across your tongue. He slides one hand into your hair, gripping it lightly, while you try to take in as much of his length as you possible.
Your teeth slide gently over his skin and he grunts softly. Your muffled moans fill the room as more precum fills your mouth. His hips thrust up slightly, but this time deliberately, and you gag slightly. Your throat tightens around the tip of his cock and Tom groans.
Your mouth slides up and down, trying to get all of his length into your mouth. You try to breathe relaxed through your nose, but the thrusting of his hips prevents you from doing so. The hand in your hair pushes you down slightly and you moan again, feeling the throbbing between your thighs intensify. Your head bobs, lewd, wet sounds fill the small space you both occupy, accompanied by Tom's grunts.
“Yeah, babe... take me deeper in your mouth...” he grunts and you let your lips slide up and down faster. The thrusting of his hips becomes sloppy, his cock twitches violently in your mouth, almost impatiently. You continue to suck his twitching cock, swirling your tongue around the slick head, while your one hand starts pumping his length and then you hear the moan.
Tom’s legs tensed, driving himself deep into your salviating mouth once more, hot cum spilling down your throat as you eagerly swallow his cum. He is panting and gruntin while his cum is filling your mouth. His hand clenches in your hair and you moan, trying to swallow all his cum. When his cock stops twitching and you have swallowed everything he has given you, you release his cock from your mouth with a pop and wipe your mouth clean.
You look up at him and smile. He is breathing heavily, his eyes closed, a slight smile on his lips. You slowly get up and crawl back onto the bed. Even before his eyes open, you gently kiss his lips.
He hums contentedly, his breathing still heavy.
“Have you thought of something like that?“ you whisper and you feel him smile slightly.
“This is pretty close...” he mutters and suddenly grabs you. You squeal slightly, but giggle as he pushes you onto the bed and rolls on top of you.
summary | Tom Bennett doesn't go the jazz hall, not really, but a pretty little bird might change his mind. (based on this request.)
pairing | tom bennett x singer!reader
tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), unprotected sex, switch!tom, switch!reader, kinda ooc for tom, fluffy ending! (not proofread)
wordcount | 4.2k
song rec | Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered - Doris Day
note | dialogue might be ooc for tom bc genuinely how tf do british ppl speak 😭 fics might become few and far in between as i'm back in college, but i'll always try to write!
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!
I’m wild again, beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I
This was not Tom’s scene. He wasn’t one to go dancing, nor to clubs with those frilly cocktails and fancy scotch. He liked rowdy pubs, with their sticky floors, and cheap pints. Granted, this place wasn’t top of the line either, but it was a step above what Manchester considered typical. He wasn’t here for a fun night out; he had come here for a reason.
That posh boy had done something to his sister again, he was sure of it. Lois had come home in tears, the third occurrence this month, silently sniffling up the stairs while Tom could only sigh in frustration as he sat by the radio. Douglas’ boy never thought Harry to be decent, but with much placating from his baby sister, he’d reluctantly let them be. But the other night was his last straw, and if Lois was reluctant to put her foot down, her brother would gladly do it for her. He wouldn’t confront him in broad daylight. No, Tom had done enough of scrapping and petty fights to do that, especially with a mummy’s boy like Harry. Better to blame it on the ghosts of the night, the shadow lurking in the corner. That was why he was here.
Alas, whatever plan he conjured in his prickly head flew out the window at the sight of the fine-looking bird in a slinky red dress taking center stage. The dreamy tunes of Doris Day filled the space, beckoning all the lovers to find their way to the dance floor in the middle. It seemed everyone had come with a partner tonight, leaving a lonely soul like Tom watching helplessly from the sidelines. He watched them dance all pressed up against each other, he watched you.
He wasn’t interested in all of this, he really wasn’t.
Your eyes closed with the slow lilt of the song, brows slightly furrowing with passion as the tunes took you in. You were graceful, even just standing there. Tom’s eyes followed the way your fingertips trailed the slim length of the microphone stand, before grasping the silver equipment with a gentle hand. It pulled something in his chest, a subtle twinge that had his back straightening and the hairs on his arms standing in attention.
Your eyes opened to trail over the waltzing pairs in front of you, sweeping over the audience with lifted lips. It soon found the dirty blonde standing by himself. Tom swore your smile lifted higher when your eyes met his, but it must have been someone else; it had to be. Your attention had him stuck to his feet, unnoticing the arrival of a Harry Chase right behind him. His sister’s posh boy, in his crisp attire and swept-back curls, passed the Bennett boy on his path to the dressing rooms, disappearing through a velvet curtain.
Then love came and told me I shouldn’t sleep
Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I
How in the world did he never know of you?
Their town wasn’t a big one. Everyone knew everyone, and any new face would soon turn familiar before the season turned. He was sure he would have heard of you, or met you, especially with a face and a voice like that. Tom hadn’t shown great interest in Lois’ singing, much absorbed in his own endeavors to find himself at the local jazz hall on a Friday night. It was evident he was missing out on much. He couldn’t help but clap along with the crowd as you finished up the song, anticipating the next.
Three songs later, and a pint finished in three big gulps, Tom watched as you bowed to your audience, walking off stage with a wave and a smile on your rouge-painted lips. Staring at an empty stage, he blinked, having completely forgotten what he was there for. It was the sight of Lois stepping onto the mic that knocked him out of his stupor, reminding him of his mission of finding Harry. Once more, his bright blue eyes searched for the man in the crowd.
“Looking for somebody?”
He whipped around in surprise, turning to the voice behind him. There you were, in your slinky red dress, and rouge-painted lips. His throat ran dry, words unfounded as you stared at him with a sweet smile.
“H-hi,” he stammered, internally giving himself a good knock on the head at how pathetic he sounded. Pull it together, Bennett.
“Hi,” you responded, pearly teeth shining as you grinned. Tom had met a lot of girls. He had kissed many of them and had done even more with some. He’d like to think himself suave when a pretty bird was in front of him, but all the birds he’d met hadn’t reduced him to a stammering mess like you did. You eyed the empty glass in his hand, tilting your head to the bar. “Care for a drink with me?”
A martini immediately welcomed you at the bar, along with another pint for Tom from the bartender. His hands felt clammy, he had no idea why the hell he was so nervous with you. From the distance between you on stage and him in the crowd, you almost felt untouchable, unreal. Yet, the heat of your arm pressed against his at the busy bar kept him in the moment, focusing on nothing else but the pretty lass before him.
“You’ve got quite the voice on ya,” he spoke up, subtly leaning into your ear through the bustling noise. You smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip of your drink. He stared at the mark your lipstick left on the clear glass, a ruby-red sketch of those pretty lips.
“Thanks, Bennett,” you responded, earning a raise of the brow from the dirty blonde. Your own raised at him, lips sputtering into a chuckle. He wasn’t aware you knew him, through Lois perhaps? But Tom had never met any of his sister’s friends, save for Connie, and he was sure he would remember a face like yours. “I had a feeling you didn’t remember me,” you smiled, running a finger around the rim of your glass. It was as if a light bulb had blazed and broken in his brain when you uttered your name in his ear, the familiarity in your gaze finally clicking in his memory.
“With the…?” he asked, gesturing to the top of his head and earning another laugh from you. He remembered you now, with the pink bows you always seem to have in your hair in school. An all-too-goody, quiet girl he’d never paid much attention to, except for when he pulled on your bows when he kicked you off the swing set. “Wha– I didn’t recognize you!”
“Well, I recognize you, Tommy. You’re a bit hard to forget when you poured milk down my shirt that one time,” you teased. Tom groaned in embarrassment, running a hand down his face as you giggled at him. He was a bit of a rascal back in school, no surprise there, always so disorderly and uncouth that it was almost routine to have poor Douglas Bennett called in because of his son’s manners.
“Christ, I was an ass, wasn’t I?” he cringed, earning a dismissive wave from you. There seemed to be no grudges held on your part, thankfully enough. Your eyes dazzled at him under the warm lights of the jazz club, amusement swimming in those wide orbs as they stared at him. “I never knew you could sing,” he said, turning his body to face your seat. Your knees subtly touched as you did the same, leaning on your arm against the wood.
“Never really had the guts to do it back then,” you shrugged. “I could hardly speak in front of a class, let alone sing. But I grew out of it… and the bows.” You shared a mirrored smile at your words. Tom turned back to follow your gaze when it drifted to the stage, where his sister was singing a lively song that had the crowd grooving along in tune. Lois didn’t seem to notice his presence, nor the fact that he was sitting with you. “Beautiful singer, your sister,” you complimented, leaning into his ear. He turned back to look at you, finding your face much closer than it had been. If he was surprised, he made no show of it, save for his hand clenching his glass a little tighter and the flush on the tip of his ears.
“That, she is,” he agreed. Tom’s eyes drifted to look back at his sister, an undeniable swarming pride spreading in his chest at the sight of her quite enjoying herself. His smile dissolved into a scowl when he met the eye of Harry Chase, who nodded at him with a polite smile, all dimples and no backbone. Prick. He took a big swig of his ale, letting out a deep breath through his nose.
The shift in his demeanor did not go unnoticed by you, perceptive as you were. You leaned to peek at what had made him frown, finding Lois’ man off to the sidelines. “Big brother doesn’t approve, eh?’ you teased, earning an unamused scoff from the man sitting before you. “He wasn’t so bad when I met him,” you mentioned lightheartedly.
“Yeah, when he’s not driving Lois insane with his little games, that is,” Tom grumbled. He had no heart for these rich ninnies, who think they can go around messing up the lives of people like Tom and you for a spin and suffer no consequences. He had no idea what made the girls so crazy about boys like Harry. When did women think less of the working man? He eyed you curiously, voicing out his question. “You into posh boys yourself?”
“God, no. Most of them already annoy me enough, even worse when they got a nice little jacket on from mummy.” Your words earned a snort from the blond, who cocked his head in agreement.
“You like ‘em a little rugged then?” he asked, flashing you a crooked grin.
“Sure, I don’t mind a little rough edge here and there,” you quirked, shifting your weight on your hands settled on the edge of your seat to lean closer to his ear. You had crossed your legs, one on top of the other, taking up the space in between his spread thighs. Tom willed himself to ignore the way your heel-clad foot was leaning on his leg, the contact sending a buzzing warmth through his trousers. If Tom thought himself forward in his advances toward women, his natural sureness paled in comparison to the confidence you exuded. “How about you, Tommy? You don’t seem like the type to pass up a classy lady.”
His face scrunched up in disagreement, making you laugh again. “I like a girl who knows her way around this town,” he said, thin lips lifting into a smirk. He could feel your foot brush against his leg as you shifted in your seat once more, the soft leather of your shoe rubbing on his calf. Your conversation continued, though with much struggle from Tom, with your breath fanning over the side of his face. His ears ran hot the more he grew flustered, taking sips of his beer in hopes of the alcohol dampening his nerves. Tom couldn’t recall a time when he had gotten so worked up by a girl the way he was now, all from the simplest touch too! He must be losing it, he really must be.
It was getting harder to ignore every little detail about you. With your perfectly coifed hair, your red dress showing off the nice dip in your waist, and your breasts pushed forward from the way you were leaning. He felt hot in his clothes, and the back of his neck started to dampen with sweat. It was easy to blame it on the ruckus of the hall, but the gradual hardening in between his thighs begged a different story.
“You alright, Tommy?” you asked, tilting your head in concern. He waved his hand nonchalantly, dismissing it to the warm lights overhead bothering him. The later the hour turned, the more people seemed to have found their way into the jazz hall. Everyone seemed to be in a state of inebriation to various degrees, the crowd bustling even more than it already did. It was growing harder to hear each other, having to start to yell in the other’s ear. The proximity didn’t help the bothersome tightening in Tom’s pants, aggravated further when you placed a gentle hand on his thigh to speak into his ear. “Do you want to go someplace else?”
“Where would we go?” he replied, grasping your arm protectively when an overly eager young man elbowed his way to get to the bartender. You offered him no response, merely taking his larger palm into yours with a smile that beckoned him to let you take him wherever you wanted. Tom let you guide him through the bustling crowd, escaping through the velvet curtain that led backstage. His eyes stayed trained on the back of your head, running over your pushed-back shoulders, and the gentle sway of your hips with every step, totally missing the incredulous look on his sister’s face as she spotted the familiar head of sandy blonde hair in the crowd.
The hallway served as a tunnel away from the chaos, taking him into the solace of the quiet, spacious dressing room all performers occupied. No one else was present in the late hour, with everyone already having found their way into the dance floor after their own sets. It was rather dark, save for the amber glow of the lights lining the wide vanity. “Much better,” you sighed, turning to face him the moment the door closed. Here, the music was reduced to nothing but a subtle thump in the walls, untouched by the chaos of the crowd. Tom fidgeted where he stood, anxiously stuffing his hands into his pockets. With no soul to interrupt, the silence seemed more deafening than the loud saxophone on stage. “Are you sure you’re okay, Tommy? You’ve gone all red,” you pouted, dainty hands cupping his flushed ears. Your palms were cool on his skin, a nice reprieve from the steady warming of the blood rushing to his ears.
He was starting to feel like a total fool, having gone all flushed like a pubescent boy in front of a proper girl like you. “M’fine. J-just not used to a place like this,” he stammered.
Fucking hell, one coherent sentence from him would save his dignity from embarrassing himself further. Just one! Yet, you didn’t seem to mind the way he was making himself look like an absolute half-wit, casually lowering your hands to intertwine in the back of his neck.
You hummed in understanding, taking a subtle step to press your chest against his. “Mm, s’not for everyone, don’t worry about it. I’m really happy you're here though, Tommy. It’s so nice to see you,” you said, eyes trailing all over his face. With your face so close to his, it was a miracle his knees didn’t buckle the moment you smiled up at him. The usually sure Bennett boy visibly gulped, following your gaze as your eyes lowered. “You do sure seem to be quite happy to see me.”
The pit of his stomach dropped to the abyss at the realization, embarrassment coloring him into a deeper shade of red. “Ah, fuck!” he groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder to hide his face. Of course, he just had to make his arousal known with his bulge pressing ever so conveniently into your hip. “M’sorry, shit, I’m sorry!”
Great going, Bennett, what a charmer you sure are.
You could only laugh as his lips spilled strings of apology. Tom tried to pull himself away to save himself from further humiliation, but your arms stayed wrapped around his neck. With every step he took backward, you took one forward, keeping yourself in his space. “Don’t be sorry! I’m flattered, really!” you exclaimed, giggles bubbling out of your ruby lips when he groaned again. When your laughter died down, your cheeks stayed lifted as you smiled cheek to cheek at him.
“Should we take care of it?” you asked, eyeing the bump in his trousers.
“Y-You don’t have to, love, I–”
“But I want to.”
He’s gone mad, hasn’t he? Tom could only stare at the hopeful glint in your eye, and before he knew it, you were lowering to your knees, looking up at him with your lower lip stuck between your teeth. Your hand smoothed down his hardness, rubbing him over his trousers. Tom started to doubt this was all real when you nuzzled your face into his clothed cock, placing a small kiss on his length. Deft fingers made quick work of unzipping his trousers, pulling his shaft free and into your soft palm. You tested its weight in your hand, warm and hefty with his cockhead weeping tears of arousal.
“It’s so pretty, Tommy,” you praised, beaming up at him with a hungry glaze. His chest was growing heaved with every labored breath, eager anticipation prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. His cock twitched in your hold with each kiss you peppered down his length, mushroomed head stroked by your hand.
“You’re going to drive me fuckin’ insane, darling,” Tom groaned, throwing his head back when you licked a stripe under his shaft. You would grant him reprieve from his agony when you finally took him into your mouth, length steadily disappearing through those red lips until your nose hit his base. The man above you placed a hand over your head gently, not pushing but only smoothing out your hair as you started to bob your head in and out.
His free hand clenched into a fist to control his urges as he felt your tongue pressed onto the underside of his cock, cheeks hollowing and sucking him in further. If he were a lesser man, he would have forgone the languid place you set and used your mouth recklessly, but he was at your mercy. If your mouth felt this good, Tom could only imagine how your cunny would feel. He imagined it would taste sweet, and would moisten up nicely if he touched you in the right places. As he closed his eyes, he could see it, your blissed-out face as he fucked you however you liked. Hell, he could almost feel it, with the warm cavern of your mouth enclosing his length.
It seemed you managed to read his mind, felt his urges with the jumping of his cock in your mouth. You pulled off with a pop, returning to your feet and capturing his lips in a kiss. Tom could taste the salty tang on your tongue, though he didn’t find it in himself to be irked. Tongues slithered and slipped, teeth clashing as he walked you backward. Leaning against the vanity, you made space for him between your thighs. Warm, calloused hands traveled down, and down, caressing your curves through the silky fabric of your dress. Your skirt rode higher up your thighs with the spreading of your legs, exposing your undergarments. They were a pretty tea rose-colored silk adorned with lace, with a white garter peeking through. Tom took your face, your pretty face, into his hands, thumbs rubbing your cheeks as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Is this alright?” he asked, breathless. You nodded, sweet breath mingling with his.
“I want you, Tommy,” you sighed dreamily, nose nuzzling into his cheek. He let you take his hand, guiding it to cup your breast. “Touch me, please.”
It was soft underneath his palm, despite still being covered by your clothing. You moaned softly with a squeeze, hips squirming on the worn vanity. Your hand returned to Tom’s still weeping cock, stroking him softly as his lips devoured yours.
Tom would say he had quite a firm grip on reality. He wasn’t one to drift off into a cloud of daydreaming, he liked to keep his head level with his feet planted firmly on the ground. But now, with his hand disappearing up your skirt and his hips subtly thrusting into your hand, time felt slower, and the top of his head felt lighter. This felt all too good to be true, and he wouldn’t put it past his luck if he somehow suddenly found himself in the back of the pub, awakened from a cheap scotch-induced haze. Yet, this was all real. You were real. It was evident in the warmth of your body pressed against his, and the delicious waft of your perfumed skin.
Your panties dropped to the ground with one swift tug, exposing your cunt to Tom’s hungry gaze. Rightfully wet. Flushed pink flesh as you split your folds with two fingers. The blonde gave into his urges, swiping your slit to gather your slick before taking his finger into his mouth to get a taste. Sweet as a cherry, even more delectable than he imagined.
“You are a dream,” Tom grunted in delight, fingers lowering more to caress your slit. You mewled when his fingers dipped into your walls, prodding into your tightness. “How am I supposed to resist you, hm?”
“Don’t,” you whispered against his lips. “Just take me, all of me. Devour me whole, Tommy.”
With your hand guiding his length, Tom breached your walls with a hiss. Gripping your thighs in either hand, he set a steady pace. Your walls swallowed him with a grip tight enough that it made him wonder how many guys have been lucky enough to have a taste of you, and if they had treated you the way you deserved. With an eagerness to please, Tom’s hips snapped into yours quick and sharp, earning a chorus of moans in his ear. “S’good, Tom, god! You make me feel so good,” you cried out, babbling outcries of pleasure against his skin. With a hand on the table, you lifted your hips to meet his every thrust, eager and urgent. The pair of you didn’t have the luxury of time, and he would be damned if his sister caught him balls-deep in between your thighs when she returned to the dressing room.
His confidence grew with your every praise, evident in his thrusts that turned harsher and faster. You liked it this way, he realized. “Such a tight fucking cunt. Got you this wet, huh?” Tom grunted, his signature cockiness making itself known. You nodded at him eagerly, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him back into your lips. The ruby red rouge was now smudged past the corners of your lips, with some surely on his pale skin. Your perfectly styled hair grew messy, pins falling off from every jolt. Your chest was speckled with a flush, skin sheened with a light layer of sweat.
A warm lick at the bottom of his spine indicated the beginning of his end. He was close. You were too, with your walls tightening around his cock. Tom’s thumb found your pearl, rubbing frantic circles on your clit to spur you to your end first. “I’m gonna come, Tommy!” you mewled, falling apart with a cry. Your cunt tightened like a noose to the point it almost trapped his cock in its hold. Tom pulled himself free just in the nick of time, spilling his pearly spend all over your tummy with a moan of your name.
Taking a moment to regain his bearings, Tom nuzzled into the crook of your neck, placing a kiss on your skin that held the promise of something good. As he pulled away, he smiled as you chuckled at him. “You got a little…” you said, rubbing the smeared lipstick on his cheeks. He watched as you cleaned him up with an adoring look on your face, mirroring the same glint in his icy blues. After making yourself presentable again, the pair of you walked out of the dressing room hand in hand with giddy smiles, eager for one last drink. The aftermath of your bliss was quite short-lived, as Tom was met with the stunned look on his sister’s face in the hall.
“Tom? What are you doin’ here?” Lois asked, confusion clearly written on her face.
“Lois, I, uh..” Tom stuttered.
“Great set, Lois!” you interjected, wrapping yourself under Tom’s arm to smile at her. His sister greeted you happily, not without shooting him a knowing look and an amused smile on her face. Tom could only respond with a crooked grin and a shrug, looking down at the girl on his arm with a look his sister had never seen before.
It was safe to say his night had taken a curious turn, though surely a good one. Tom would find himself back at the jazz club in the nights to come, with a newfound appreciation for Doris Day and even going so far as having a civil drink with a certain Harry Chase as he looked on to his pretty little performer.
Summary: Tom Bennett visits his girl, Birdie, after returning home from his first leave. He stops by her house, despite never sending her any letters.
Couple: Tom Bennett/Original Female Character
Category: Fluff (with the slightest angst)
Content warnings: One slap, smut
Word count: 5.5k
Also on my Ao3
A/N: This is kinda where season 2 kicks off. Except Tom's dad is not dead and everything's fine there because goddammit we deserve some happiness.
Birdie always made sure she and her brothers took advantage of their father’s out-of-country meetings. Even a world war couldn’t stop a businessman. Still, for Birdie, it meant a break from entertaining his friends with whiskey refreshers while dodging questions about marriage. It meant no sons of those same friends lurking around her at dinner parties, critiquing the meal in between their stories at the country club, unaware it was she who had strained over her mother’s cookbook all morning.
For her brothers, it meant no golf on Saturday and no church on Sunday. They slept late, ate plenty, and played outside while Birdie enjoyed her noon cigarette. She kept their itchy jumpers in the back of their closets while their button-ups and socks stayed a pristine bleach white for another week. And all of it equaled far less laundry for her to deal with before Monday.
That didn’t mean there was absolutely no laundry on the weekends. She already had a load to hang outside and more than enough August sunshine to take advantage of. As she clipped up one damp garment after another on the clothesline, next week’s load tumbled next to her as the boys wrestled in the grass. Charles was all elbows and knees at twelve, but it didn’t stop him from lunging at Robert. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes, giving Robert the time to dodge his tackle. His laughter rang high and clear when Charles landed in the dirt.
They both scooped up more to shove down the other’s polo when a face was out of reach, grunts and giggles blending together even after Birdie tossed her slipper at them. “I’m not doing any more laundry today.”
“Alright,” Robert said, finally getting dirt down Charles’ collar.
Birdie picked up her slipper. “That includes ironing.”
“We know.” Charles pulled Robert down by the ankle as he said it, his face clean until Robert took his shot.
“That includes your school uniforms.”
Then they paused, looking at each other, then up at their sister.
“If you can make it to the door before me, I’ll reconsider that last part.”
Charles hopped up first, this time helping little Robert up before charging to the back door. Birdie followed behind, the distance growing as she walked with a laundry basket at her hip.
Tom was the one who taught her that. “When in doubt, make it a race. Boys will take any easy win.” Sometimes he’d even sweeten the deal by offering actual sweets. Anything chocolate or caramel was an simple win over. And Tom was good at that, winning people over. Because, unlike the boys who only pulled polite laughter from Birdie all night, Tom Bennett was actually charming. And unlike their father coming home from France or Poland, the boys loved seeing him.
Unfortunately, Tom Bennett was also a proper bastard.
She couldn’t say that in front of the boys. It would break their hearts. He was proper when he told them about joining the army (while in jail,) then signing up for the navy (before almost going back to jail.) Everything had been radio silence since he told them about being sent to Spain first. The radio itself was more respondent than Thomas Bloody Bennett, making him the bastard he was.
They constantly heard about the Kriegsmarine. The Admiral Graf Spee had a record of sinking one ship after another across the Atlantic and Indian. Charles counted nine over several months in a little notebook he kept under his pillow. Robert would always ask if Tom was still in Spain or what ship he told Birdie he’d be on. All perfectly reasonable questions she had no answer to.
Eventually came the worst question left to loom in the air: Was Tom dead? The question lingered, unvoiced, in their minds. She wished she knew, even if it meant he was.
But she also wished the boys could forget. Erasing Tom Bennett completely instead of letting the continuous unknown haunt them seemed like a logical, lesser pain. It wasn’t a problem when their mother died. They were one and two when Birdie was ten. Their love for her was not as great as their love for Tom. They never stepped into a room with her in mind and a blanket of memories to follow. No everyday objects held the weight of those memories, like hair brushes and gold jewelry. Their father taught the boys how to play solitaire, but they couldn’t look at a deck without seeing Tom, the one who taught them about poker and how to cheat in the same night.
Even the report of Graf Spee’s sinkage last December felt bittersweet. The boys were cross-legged at the coffee table with the fire warming their backs. Birdie knitted while their father read in his chair. The fuzzily read conclusion of HMS Exeter’s victory sent that heavy blanket over the three of them. It was suffocating until Robert perked his head up, thick brown curls just above his eyes as he said, “Maybe Tom is on the Exeter.”
Birdie glanced over at their father.
“Tom’s dead,” Charles snapped back, his voice cracking with the force of it as his fists clenched in his lap.
“You don’t know that.”
“Boys,” Birdie called. But their father already stood, taking the radio and hiding it again.
Charles pushed Robert. “Good job.”
“Shut up.” Robert traced the table’s edge, sweeping his curls from his face. “And you still don’t know if Tom is dead.”
“Neither do you.”
“Birdie. Tell him he’s not.”
“Enough,” she ordered.
When their father came back, Charles hid his face as he wiped his cheeks. Birdie soon sent them both to bed.
He never wrote to her. She’d have to accept what that meant, whichever way fate fell. She knew Tom taking a liking to marriage was as hopeful as never seeing war again, but even leaving her like this would be the ultimate coward’s way out. Plenty would see it as a reason not to worry about him and take advantage of her youth while she had it. She never even met his family. They wouldn’t know to look for her if they knew his whereabouts. Time was her only solution. She could only hope that enough of it would pass, and she’d find the strength to laugh at a boy’s jokes from across the table. He’d feel so proud and funny throughout their courting; he’d even crack a joke before proposing to her. Then Birdie would surrender herself, hoping they’d all learn to love him. Just differently.
For now, Birdie opened the back door as the boys waited and soon clamored through the kitchen. “Shoes off!” She ordered as each thunk of non-bare feet trailed up the stairs, then back down, following the reminder. Birdie put the basket on the kitchen floor, debating briefly if she should smoke another cigarette.
They both shouted from the foyer. “Birdie!”
She didn’t move. There wasn’t distress in their voices, and Robert quickly came back into the kitchen to find her where she was standing. Running and shoving dirt into each other’s faces didn’t make them nearly as breathless as they were now. Then she saw the reason, standing in the doorway.
“Tom is here!”
He was here, leaning on his shoulder in a navy uniform with his sandy hair grown out past his ears. Charles hung to one arm as he carried a birdcage with the other. He topped it off with his arrogant grin and wink combination.
“Told you he wasn’t dead,” Robert said. His curls bounced as he vibrated with joy.
“Course I’m not dead.”
Charles continued holding onto his arm, his freckled face split into a wide, toothy grin Birdie hadn’t seen in months. “What are you doing here, then?”
“Hitler sunk me ship. Decided to stop by here.” He placed the cage on the breakfast table. The little canary inside chirped as it swung back and forth on the bar. “Wanted to bring a birdie for my Birdie.” He leaned against the table.
She crossed her arms. Charles finally separated from Tom to look into the cage. He stuck a finger between the golden bars. “Where’d you get it?”
“She was on the ship with me and the lads.” He mimicked her pose, not straying from her eyes. The boys continued with questions.
“Did you kill any Nazis?”
“Loads.”
“Get your uniforms,” she said.
“Are you back for good?” Robert asked, his dark eyes wide with hope.
“Boys. Now.”
“She’s right,” Tom said. “Be good and listen to your sister.” He ruffled their hair before pushing them on the back of their heads. “We’ll talk later.”
Robert disappeared first. Charles second, but he poked his head through the doorway one more time. “We’re glad you’re back, Tom.” And he showed off his toothy smile again before leaving. Their footsteps thump, thump, thumped up the stairs.
“Shoes off! I’m not telling you again.”
“Yeah, shoes off, boys,” he repeated with the same grin and a laugh to boot. He pushed himself off the table with his hip. “Seems like you’ve loosened the reins since last ti—”
The crack across his face bounces off the tiled walls. She thought about doing it plenty of nights when in bed alone, thinking of every way he could’ve left her, but it happened before she realized what she had done. The mark burned pink on his skin. Tom rubbed the spot, but a grin still stained his face just as prominently. Birdie’s face only tightened. “You think this is amusing?”
“A little bit, yeah. Keep that up and we’ll have to take this to your room. As long as your old man’s not here.”
“You think you can just show up whenever it suits you? We thought you were dead.”
“Your faith in me was strong, I see.”
“Because you hadn’t sent a single letter. And you think bringing some bird gets you out of this?”
“Hey, first off, her name’s Vera.”
“Vera!” Robert held his uniform in his arms, gray and wrinkled to hell. Charles opened the laundry room door and placed his matching one on the counter. “She’s a girl?”
“Sure is. Seen her lay an egg and everything. She was on board with me and the lads before Graf Spee took shots at us.”
“Wow!” Robert looked at Vera, Charles at Tom.
Birdie raised a brow. “You were on the HMS Exeter?”
Tom nodded, looking over at the bird.
“I knew you were on the Exeter! I told them you were!” It was Robert’s turn to take Tom’s arm, looping it with his own. “You killed them all, right? They said someone shot the captain.”
“Sounds about right.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat before tightening his arm with Robert’s. He patted his little hand.
“If Hitler sunk that ship, then did the others make it home?”
“Yeah, yeah. One way or another.” He glanced back at Birdie, and his grin simmered down. There was something more she couldn’t piece together. She opened her mouth, but Tom spoke up first. “You two do us a favor, yeah?” He unlooped Robert’s arm as Charles came around the table. Both are standing tall with eager ears. “So, I haven’t had a milkshake in about a year.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s awful, innit? With it being as sweltering as it is, I think we all could go for some.”
They nodded enthusiastically. Birdie bit her lips closed.
“Good. But I’m sure your sister would appreciate you two cleaning up before we head out. Bath and all, alright?”
“But you need a milkshake now.”
“We all need milkshakes now.”
“Which is why you should hurry,” Birdie interjected. “The sooner you’re clean, the sooner we’ll get them.”
“But don’t rush washing up. Don’t want people to think she doesn’t know how to take care of you.”
“Are you going to kiss while we’re gone?” Charles’ nose scrunched as he said it.
“Probably,” Tom said. “You wanna watch?”
And just like that, for the third time, they were off. (Their shoes weren’t, but she couldn’t care to remind them.)
Tom shifted slowly, turning back to face her. “That’ll keep them away for a while.”
“You think I want to kiss you?”
“Oh, absolutely. You’re just too angry to admit it.”
“You brought home a bird and no apologies.”
“Not just Vera.” He delved into one pocket. “I’ve got some seeds she likes. Here’s some rope she climbs on.” He placed them down on the table before fishing around the other pocket.
“Are you so up your own arse that you think I’m going to look past this? You think you’re so bloody perfect because—”
“Because I have these.” In front of them both were papers. Envelopes upon envelopes, stamped and ready to send with torn journal pages sandwiched in between. All of them covered in his fine cursive. Tom held them up and placed them with Vera’s things. “Well, at least you’re finally speechless.”
Birdie touched the top envelope with her full name written out, feeling the indentions of his handwriting.
“Sending letters at sea is harder than you think when Germans are around.”
“You wrote to me.”
“As often as I could. More than me dad or Lois. So if that doesn’t get me out of trouble.”
She couldn’t help the way her vision blurred with tears. Many months of anger and resentment dissolved inside her, melting into salty pools. Then she looked up, remembering the mark on his face. Birdie reached out and brushed his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
Tom blew air through his nose. “It doesn’t hurt. Shows you still love me.”
“That’s not–”
“You wouldn’t have touched me at all if you’d given up.” Tom leaned into her hand, then took her fingers in his to observe. “No ring. So I’m not too late then? You didn’t move on from this poor bloke?”
“Not through lack of trying. They sent all the good ones away, too.”
They both laughed. It fizzled out slowly, leaving Vera to fill the silence with her chirps. Tom’s eyes were a crisp blue, making him extra dashing in his uniform. His damn smirk didn’t help with her decency, but Tom did the honors by pulling her in, guiding one hand to his back like she was the one who was used to being led. He kissed her gently, and his hands drew up into her hair, making her earrings dangle as a tingle bloomed from her scalp to her spine. She slipped her tongue in before bringing Tom closer in response–waist against waist. She felt what she wanted.
Tom hummed at the friction, pulling back first. “Eager to give me a hero’s welcome, I see.”
She nodded, already out of breath.
“Doesn’t help that you taste like cigarettes. Reminding me of old habits.”
“We can go to the laundry room.” She bent her back to press further into his bulge and kissed him again. The deep exhale through his nose was cool, brushing her cheek.
“Let’s go upstairs first.”
“But I want you now.”
“You’ll have me. Come on.” The warmth of his hands left her face as he reached out for Vera’s things. He hooked two fingers to pick up her cage.
Birdie watched him leave. A quick fuck was never something he declined before. It was what he preferred over anything that took a long time. Birdie preferred getting to the point, and Tom barely had the experience to take things slow like her. She sighed and grabbed her letters before following him upstairs.
The peachy walls and green curtains matching her floral bedding were reminders of how little things had changed. Even Tom pointed it out as he looked around. “That’s good.” He walked over to her desk, next to the big window. “Vera would like it here. She’ll get good light, and you can open up the window for some fresh air.”
“Sure.” She put her letters on her nightstand before shutting the door.
“I’ll put a hook in the ceiling and find a chain to hang the cage from. Make it all pretty for ya.” He scaled the height of the wall from top to bottom, hands on his hips and nodding to himself. “Yeah, I can get the boys to help me.”
“Tom.” Birdie stepped closer.
“Well, maybe not with this. Rather make sure she’s secure.”
“Tom.”
He turned with raised brows. Birdie rubbed his arms first, then cupped the part of his face she slapped. “Are you alright?”
His brow creased. “Yeah, course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re acting differently.”
“You haven’t seen me in a year. A lot happens in a year, Birdie. That’s no one’s fault.” He kissed her knuckles, all gentlemanly. His arms wrapped around her waist as he returned to his signature smirk.
“You can keep Vera at yours. The boys will understand.”
“Nah. We don’t have the room. She’s better off here on your side of the country.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, and I’ll visit her when I want. No matter what your old man says. I’ll just sneak through the window. Like old times.” He smiled at that. “Now, where were we?” He kissed her.
She wanted to say more, but Tom was good at distracting. The tingling sped down to her legs and morphed into numbness as Tom nibbled at her neck. They tangled with his own as he tried taking the lead again. Luckily, they fell onto the bed with little injury, only a bump to the teeth as Tom kissed her deeply into the mattress. His tongue slid through to find hers, and she worked her hands through his hair. Tom pulled down one shoulder of her dress, kissing and nipping his way down like he was reacquainting himself with every inch of her. Her bra went with it. Tom stopped at her waist to give her chest the attention it craved. He massaged one tit while taking the other in his mouth. He suckled gently on her nipple, occasionally taking it between his teeth to make Birdie gasp.
Birdie’s knees hiked up against Tom’s hips. She kept him in place while pulling his hair. Her calves felt the leather of his belt, telling her hands where to go. With their bodies so close, she struggled to find his buckle. Still, she navigated with her goal in mind.
Until Tom took both her wrists and held them over her head. He looked up with a pinkish face. ”Someone’s eager.” His voice was low as he said it, breath cool over her nipple.
“I need to be fucked.”
“I can see that.”
She bucked her hips against his. “Quick.”
“It’s been a year, love. I have to be quick.” And soon, he stepped up, then back. He took fistfuls of her dress and her underwear. Birdie lifted her lower back, and she was naked with one yank. She knew she was glorious. Her appearance clearly pleased Tom. So she reached out for his belt again, but Tom slapped it away. “Not yet.”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. When she looked back up, though, he was already removing his shirt. The sight helped the sting. Before, he had a lightly sculpted physique, with some prominent muscles. But now, his skin was tighter against them, with veins that wrapped around his bare arms. Just like the men on all the sign up posters. A war hero.
Tom nestled back on top of her, keeping her warm as he pushed her hair back. “Is it so bad that I want to enjoy you?”
She shook her head. “You just don’t waste time when it comes to treats.”
“Who said I’m wasting my time?”
Birdie said nothing. For many reasons.
Tom liked his secrets, and he liked to think he was good at hiding them. But he was also right when he mentioned it being a year. Any logical discussion regarding his changed behavior had to be put aside. So for now, she stroked his chest, fingers gliding over his pronounced muscles. His abs jumped at the touch. Tom’s hand then followed down. Further down, actually. And before she could ask what he was doing, electricity sparked up her insides and throughout as Tom explored her wetness.
“Is this wasting time?”
No would be the obvious answer if she hadn’t lost all the air in her lungs. Each harsh intake forced a moan back out. Her chest felt caved in as she jolted under his heavy touch.
“Didn’t think so.”
She would also tell him to shut up if she had the wits, but he never did this. He was never bad at it (decent at most.) He never liked trying new things, fearing he’d embarrass himself. Learning and improvement were beyond his confidence. Being on the sea must have unlocked a more adventurous spirit with no room for improvement because she was so sensitive from enduring no touch at all. (A bloody year!) The only thing he could do was go faster, but his pace was agonizingly slow. With time, her back still arched as she gripped the arm that kept him hovering deliciously above her. “Tom.” She looked him in the eyes as she said it.
He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he picked up the pace, while she grew louder. Eventually, he brought himself down to kiss her, drinking in her moans as she continued to shake. He hummed as her nails dug into his arm and the other hand strangled her bedding. It kept her grounded as she cried out, spasming amidst her little death by Tom Bennett’s hand. He still explored, moving his fingers around and never venturing inside. He kissed her one more time before whispering, “There she is,” as she came back down.
Her legs quivered around Tom, lingered remains of her peak briefly pressing into his hips. And because Tom was feeling proper, he took it as an opportune moment to finally (finally!) remove his pants. Birdie tried watching what she could, but their bodies were too close together to see anything before he completely slipped inside. She stretched against him, but her reaction was to put a palm on his shoulder. She needed a minute, and Tom didn’t move. Birdie released the sharp grip on his arm to cup his face. His eyes were droopy, dazed with the same want she already received. He still kissed her slowly, tenderness still in his heart after everything he might’ve seen, and waited for her say-so.
Soon, Birdie nodded, nearly being lost in the moment again as she enjoyed her own show. Tom was deliberate with every inch, watching her face for any change. Her smile only grew, tightening her arms around his shoulders once he was completely inside her. Her breath hitched as she fully felt it, watching Tom’s eyes flutter shut from the same feeling. Normally, he would anchor her down with hands around her hips, but he stayed close as he thrusted slowly. Knowing he would be quick, he wasn’t animalistic about it. He didn’t pull all the way out to shove himself back in. He just kissed her neck as he kept his pace.
Her nails found his back, scratching down his skin and the small moles on his spine. “Tom,” she said as her mouth started falling open.
“Oh, Birdie.” He kissed her again, like it was a command. Their noses bumped as their hot breaths mingled in the limited space between them. “Oh, my God.”
She could feel the tension building inside. His thrusts became more pointed and faster, making it difficult to keep quiet again. She felt the raised lines she left in his skin as she moaned, “Don’t stop.”
He buried his face in her neck again as he only grew more erratic. And her second release, like Tom’s, was quick (as predicted.) It rushed up and down her legs and no further, topping off her first orgasm as Tom finished hot on her belly. Her toes curled at the lingering feeling as Tom breathed heavily, pulling the bath towel off her floor to clean up his mess. Then he took her hand in his as he fell into her pillows, stark naked and a beautiful sight amongst frilly pink lining. Birdie crawled while still trembling to lie on his chest. His heartbeat was rapid against his ears, and it eventually settled into a healthy rhythm.
Tom’s arms kept her close, keeping their hands together. She looked up at his face, already close to nodding off. One blue eye peeked open, and his lips curled into his signature smirk once more.
“Welcome home.”
“A fantastic welcome, love. Wake me up when you want to welcome me again.”
“You know you can’t fall asleep yet.”
He nodded. “It is tempting, though.”
“The boys should be ready soon.”
Air puffed through Tom’s nose. “A milkshake will have to do, then.”
She knew she should get up, but Tom’s hold around her waist was tighter, as if he had read her mind. It was tempting to sleep. It was more tempting than ever for another cigarette. But Tom’s breath had finally slowed, nearly to a rate that felt like he passed out, anyway. The only thing that assured her he was still awake was his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The simple back-and-forth motion that eventually numbed the skin soothed her mind, despite her questions still being there.
They piled in her head, one after the other, like the letters on her nightstand, addressed to her, for her to read. Even Tom knew he couldn’t avoid it forever.
But footsteps scampered down the hall.
Milkshakes would have to do.
They went to one of the inner city diners. The boys kept to one side of the booth (much to their shared dismay) as Tom stayed next to Birdie. They wanted to be glued to him, to prove to themselves that he was alive and in front of them. Charles even kicked him under the table with a grin plastered on his face. Only once, though, giving Tom rights to kick him back.
Birdie didn’t need the proof. Because something that hadn’t changed about Tom was showing her off in public. He held her hand during the entire walk and kept an arm cascaded over her shoulder in the booth at all times. Word would get back to her father when he returned home. (Someone was always ready to gossip.) And it would make no difference now that Tom was a war hero. No one acknowledged him as such even in the restaurant, despite his uniform.
Even Tom didn’t acknowledge it. He was more concerned with touching the skin on her arm. When their milkshakes arrived, he could barely pull himself away to drink any of it. Birdie crossed her legs , feeling the heat prickle through her as Tom eventually found her knee under the table while giving the boys his full attention the entire time. The way she allowed such public displays of affection would be embarrassing if she didn’t need him so badly again already.
It didn’t help that Tom ended up showing the boys how to hang Vera’s cage, exchanging his uniform for an undershirt and jeans. He installed the hook and showed them how to test its sturdiness, same with the chain holding her up, triple-checking the stability, making sure she’s safe.
They both tested the stability of her bed later in the night. With her hands on the bars of her headboard, Birdie found her familiar motion as she rode Tom into the mattress. His hands gripped into her hips as he moved with her, pushing all he could inside her while staying synchronized. They panted in the dark together. Tom occasionally reached up for her tits, but they made no attempt at meeting in the middle. There was a mutual end they were both desperate to meet.
And eventually, they did. Birdie curled in on herself as she caught her breath, and bent in to Tom’s touch. He guided her to the space between him and the wall. He cleaned them up once more with the same towel and wrapped her in his arms. As her arm snaked around his neck and her thigh drew near, he showered her with tenderness, nuzzling below his chin and rubbing her smooth skin. Vera chirped softly, the golden bars of her cage gleaming in the pale moonlight just above her desk.
Tom’s nails tickled her skin as they traveled up her hip and side before finding her chin, lifting it up to his. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but felt the air leaving his nose with every exhale. She drew circles on his bare chest, high up where his muscles didn’t get in the way. Her eyes were wide open, not even a little tired since this morning. She then wondered if Tom had slept at all since coming home, or if this was his first stop. Would he rest easy, like normal?
“What’re you thinking?”
“What?”
“You’re always quick to sleep. Unless you’re worried about something. So what is it?”
Birdie situated herself to rest on her stomach. She combed her fingers through his hair, reaching his scalp before pulling herself forward to kiss his cheek (she missed) then his lips. “Were you really in the South Atlantic? On The Exeter?”
“I was.” He said it without hesitation. It surprised even her.
“A lot happened.”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“We were hit. I was cutting up with some lads, pissing off some others.” He cleared his throat. “And they were gone.”
“Gone?”
“The lads. Norman, Vic, others. Only me and Henry survived that one explosion.”
“Oh, Tom.” She reached for his face.
“I wrote about Vic in some of the letters. Hopefully, I did him some justice.”
The silence was thick. No witty jokes to pad the seriousness. He only petted her hair over and over. His touch was rigid and his pulse picked up in his chest. She looked over at the letters on her nightstand, the abstract pile that they were. She reached out, and Tom caught her hand as her finger poked an envelope’s corner.
“Don’t,” he told her. He cradled her hand, bringing it up to his face again, but not letting go.
“What else is there?”
It took so long for him to answer she worried he was pretending to be asleep, making that the end of it until she inevitably brought it up again. His inhale was deep. “I don’t know if I have it yet.” He used her hand to point to his temple. “The Shellshock. You think I’d know with my dad and all. I don’t feel much different. But if… if I get sent out again… I’m…”
“Scared?”
“I might keep changing, Birdie. And I might finally snap like my dad and end up in one of those insane hospitals. With no one.”
“I’d be there.”
“You don’t know that.” He sounded like Robert.
“And neither do you.” She inched closer to kiss his lips again, longer this time, like it was a seal of guarantee. Even with the tensity, Tom softened to it. “What if you don’t go back?”
He huffed. “And be branded a deserter?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Your dad already hates me enough, don’t you think?”
“Well, it doesn’t sound like you want to go back.”
Tom sighed.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, then.”
“It just seems like the easy solution, right? Just don’t go back. I’d be a traitor, but I’d be alive with my dad, Lois, the boys, and you. But like I said, good lads died on that ship. Plenty more are dying elsewhere for the same bloody war. It’s not fair to sit out here when more good lads are getting sent out every day.”
Birdie picked herself up, unwinding herself from his body to look down at the vague silhouette halfway under blankets. “You’re a good lad, too. You know?”
His tongue clicked, brushing it off.
“Bad men don’t think the way you do. That’s why I waited for you. I’ll do it again. I’ll be in the waiting room of any hospital in England if you end up needing to get your head checked.”
“Not beside me?”
“They wouldn’t consider me family.”
“But I would.”
“Well, you’d have to marry me to prove it to them.”
It was a one-off joke. She even topped it off with a chuckle. Still, silence persisted; even Vera couldn’t be heard. Despite his fears, he was still the same Tom Bennett who couldn’t handle the idea of being tied down.
But just when she was about to give up and settle in with nothing spoken further, she felt Tom’s hand move across the side of her face, finding the comfortable, familiar spot just under her ear before pulling her back down. He didn’t make her settle in. He found her lips, kissing her slowly with an open mouth, taking a breath when he could in between.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you.”
It wasn’t until he stopped that she rested her head on his chest again and his arms found where they wished to settle on her body for the night. He picked up her ring finger and it alone.
A/N: i haven't actually watched the show but i had this idea and really wanted to write it
WARNINGS: smut!, tom is a little pushy, size kink (if you squint)
WORD COUNT: 1,416 words
The knock at your window frightens you. Your parents are only two doors down the hall but you can’t imagine who would be climbing up to your window at this ungodly hour.
Then you hear it, his voice.
“Open up, love. It’s bloody freezing out here.”
It can’t be.
You rush to your window, opening it up wide to see Tom Bennett hanging on with a playboy grin on his face.
“Took you long enough.” He teases as he climbs inside. You throw your arms around him right away.
“I didn’t think you’d be back for months!” You exclaim in a whisper-shout. Your father never liked it when Tom was sneaking into your room.
“Well i’m back early, doll. Wanted to surprise you.” He murmurs into your hair as his arms squeeze around your waist. Nothing has ever felt quite as good as having you in his arms.
“That’s why you didn’t respond to my last letter?” You ask. “God, Tommy. You had worried out of my bloody mind.” You look at him with sorrow in your eyes. “I almost let myself think you were dead.”
“I’m sorry to frighten you, love. You know I never meant to, but i’m here now.” He strokes your cheek with the back of his two fingers. He clearly means it.
“I never knew how much I needed my best friend.” You say mournfully.
“Thought about you every day when I was gone.” He whispers.
His fingers trail up and down your waist. “I thought about you every day too.”
“I barely got back an hour ago, wanted you to be the first person I saw.” His words make a blush rise to your cheeks.
“Explains the sailor uniform. You clearly haven’t washed it in a while.” You tease.
“You gonna talk to someone who served your country like that? You should be thanking me for my service.” He says with mock self-righteousness.
“Thank you.” You say nonchalantly.
“That's it? I think I deserve a bit more of a reward than that.” He says as a cheeky grin makes its way onto his face.
“What kinda reward are you wanting, soldier boy?” You ask, sensing his innuendo.
“Just a little kiss, doll.” He replies and you roll your eyes before quickly pecking his cheek.
“Happy?”
“I meant on the lips, darling. You knew that.” He lifts your chin up with his hand and brushes his thumb over your soft lips.
“Don’t…” You pull your head away and take a step back. “You know i’m not your girl, Thomas Bennett.” He always knows he’s in trouble when you use his full name like that. He hates when you’re upset with him… but he likes teasing you more.
“I just want one little kiss, then i’ll leave ya alone.” He gives you his best puppy-dog eyes with his baby blues.
“Then go down to the bar and pick a girl there.”
“I don’t wanna go down to the bar when I already got the prettiest girl in England right in front of me.” He places each of his hands on your waist as he gazes down at you.
“You shouldn’t be such a flirt with your closest friend.” You murmur.
“You shouldn’t deny a navy-man his one wish after coming back from war.” He returns.
“We both know you won’t stop at one kiss.”
“I will if that’s what you really want.”
You think on his words for a moment, nibbling on your lip that he’s so desperate to taste.
“One kiss.”
He grins and you before pulling you closer with his strong hands and then lifting one so he can guide your head until your lips meet his. It’s nothing of an innocent peck. No, this kiss is much more. He pushes his tongue past your lips and in your hazy state, you weren’t stopping him. Tom knows he might not get another chance like this so he kisses you with all the passion he can muster, hoping that it keeps you coming back for more… but it all ends too soon when you push him away gently, just enough so he gets the idea.
“What’s wrong?” He asks in a low, almost drowsy tone.
“You promised.”
“I did… but I can tell you wanna kiss me more.” He looks at you with such desire in his eyes.
“I won’t be another notch on your belt, Tommy.” You say firmly.
“A notch on my belt? Is that what you think?” He looks at you, clearly upset. “Do you not know how much you mean to me?”
“You just… sleep with a lot of girls.”
“I don’t only want to sleep with you, love. You’re so much more to me than that. I wanna make you my girl.” He says earnestly, looking you right in the eyes as he speaks.
“But I just thought-”
“Doll, your letters were the only thing keeping me sane when I was away. A girl like you is no one night stand.”
“You really mean that?”
“Of course I do. Is that why you’ve never let me kiss you before?”
You feel yourself blush even harder. “Yeah.” Your eyes fall to the floor but he lifts your chin back up right away.
“Let me show me how much I love you.”
He waits for a moment until you finally nod. He then closes the space between your lips and kisses you with just as fervour as before. You whine into his mouth as his hands squeeze at your waist and before you know it, one of those hands is sliding up your skirt. You let out a gasp as he begins to rub you through the thin fabric of your panties. You never knew a man could bestow such pleasure.
“Mmm, Tommy.” You whimper out.
“You like that, pretty girl?” He rubs your pearl a little more firmly now. “Why don’t you take those panties off and lie on your bed for me?”
You climb back on your bed quickly and he smirks at your eagerness. You pull your panties off from under your nightgown and he lifts the hem of the garment so he can see your glistening cunny.
“Knew you wanted it.” He smirks before beginning to rub your pearl directly now. As he does, he uses his other hand to free himself from his trousers. His fingers slip inside of you now as he starts stroking his cock.
“I want you, Tommy… all of you.” No other words could have been more perfect for him to hear.
“This is your first time, right?” He asks slowly as he lines up with your entrance.
You nod.
“I’ll be real gentle with you then.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your lips as he slides in. It does sting ever so slightly but nothing akin to pain even with how big he is.
“You can um… continue.” He laughs when you can’t seem to find the words.
“I’ll take good care of you, doll.” He murmurs as he starts to thrust in and out of you.
You’ve never felt anything quite like it before. You’ve pleasured yourself with your fingers before but it’s never felt this good. He seems to hit every spot inside of you that needs attention.
“You feel so good squeezing around me like that.” He praises as he picks up the pace. It feels like he’s fucking into you even deeper now.
“I like it, Tommy.” You whine.
“I knew you would, baby.” He presses fluttering kisses to your neck that contrast very nicely with how he’s pounding into you. He goes back to rubbing your pearl, wanting you to get as close to your peak as he is.
“I think i’m gonna…” You breathe out.
“Do it, darling. Cum for me.” He says and immediately notices how your walls contract around him.
He fucks your hard through your high, until your squirming beneath him, and then finally pulls out to cum on your tummy, just below where your nightgown rests.
“You did such a good job for me. Made me feel so good.” He whispers as he collapses on top of you. You start to run your fingers through his hair. As much as you would like to savour this moment, you know you can’t.
“My parents will be up soon, Tommy. I can’t imagine how they’d react if they saw the state of us right now.”
“Five more minutes.” He grumbles into your chest.
You sigh. “Fine… five more minutes.”
taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33
Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader
Warnings: Smut.
Word count: ~1.5k
Summary: An addition to Best Intentions. Read as a standalone, if you'd like.
Author's note: A birthday gift for @hoosbandewan - husband Tom on your birthday. Happy birthday, Erin! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
“God’s got bigger things to worry about than me makin’ an honest woman outta ya,” Tom had told her with a wink. “Besides, the money we save we can put towards a bigger do. Would rather everyone have a few beers and sarnies to celebrate, than sit in a stuffy church with their arses going to sleep.”
That had settled it. Her and Tom were to have a registry office wedding, with a reception at The Ducie Arms afterwards.
Even without money being as tight as it is she knows that this is what they would always have chosen. It’s just irrevocably them. Theirs is not a love born of grand gestures and material possessions. They share a soul connection, a lifetime of scraped knees, shared sweets, building their lives around each other, growing together. They are already two halves of the same whole, this is simply the string that ties it all together.
Despite keeping the ceremony itself modest, she feels like a princess as she stands in front of the mirror, her mum behind her fastening the last few buttons on the back of her wedding dress, as she places the last of the pins in her hair.
They’d gotten a deal at the haberdashery on some end cuts of lace and satin, and her mum had worked her magic with her sewing machine. The dress looks shop bought.
She smiles as she smooths her hands over the skirt, taking in the high neckline and draped sleeves, grateful that she’d woken early enough to clasp herself into the lingerie and slip that lies beneath - a wedding night treat for Tom - before her mum had arrived to help her get ready.
It had been a struggle to get out of bed that morning. Her mum, Lois and Connie had all popped round to the flat the previous evening to make sandwiches for the reception. She’d been half way through spreading margarine on a slice of bread when Connie had produced a bottle of gin from her bag.
“Well, if Tom and the rest of the lads are all at the pub, why shouldn’t we?” Connie had asked with a smile as Lois had rushed to get glasses down from the kitchen cupboard.
The pounding in her head the next day tells her exactly why she shouldn’t have. She wonders if Tom is in as much of a sorry state as she is. Thankfully, her make-up does a good job of hiding it.
Tom has called in a favour with a customer at the garage, so she can travel to the registry office in style. She has to stifle a laugh behind her hand as the sleek black motorcar pulls up outside the shop to pick her up. It’s the exact same one that her and Tom had vigorously made up in the back of.
As she slides onto the seat, gathering her skirt so that it doesn’t catch in the door, the memory of Tom laying between her thighs replays in her mind, causing her skin to heat up.
“Everything alright?” Her mum asks, climbing in next to her. “You look a bit flustered.”
She blinks, swallowing and nodding, startled out of her reverie. “Yeah, Mum, bit nervous is all.”
Tom stops fidgeting with his tie knot the moment he sees her, a grin spreading across his face as she walks towards him and the registrar. He lets out a low whistle as she stops beside him, turning to face him. She bows her head, giggling. She feels like a school girl all over again.
Time seems to stand still for her as she gazes into Tom’s blue eyes, not really registering the words being spoken, or the vows she utters in response, fixated only on Tom’s beaming smile. Once more he is that little boy, face full of sunshine and the sweetest little rabbit teeth she’s ever seen.
Except now he is hers. Her husband. She is a wife.
“Fuckin’ finally,” Tom mutters, surging forward once they are told they can kiss.
He grasps the back of her neck, pressing his lips to hers in a motion that steals the air from her lungs. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, smiling into it, her heart fluttering just as it had the first time they’d ever kissed. In a way, this is a first too, the first of many things they’ll share as a married couple.
“Hello, Mrs. Bennett,” he whispers against her lips when they finally part for breath.
The words have heat pooling between her legs almost instantly. She is certain she’ll never tire of hearing them.
As everyone heads in the direction of The Ducie Arms, she is confused when Tom pulls her back in the direction of the shop.
“What you doing?” She asks, brow furrowing as she resists his gentle tug on her arm.
“Left something in the flat, need to go back for it,” he tells her, nodding his head in the direction he wants to go.
“Can’t you just quickly go back for it on your own, and meet me at the pub?”
He shakes his head, tugging at her hand again. “Need you to help me, come on.”
She sighs, relenting and allowing him to pull her along. “We’re gonna be late to our own wedding reception.”
Tom smirks, glancing sideways at her. “They’ll wait, they have to.”
As soon as they’re home, he’s upon her, backing her up towards the bedroom as his hands grasp her waist and his lips find hers.
She giggles between hurried kisses, their breaths intermingling. “Is this what you forgot then?”
Tom pushes her back against the mattress, placing hot, opened mouthed kisses against her throat. “You look so good in that dress, darlin’, couldn’t wait any longer.”
She gasps as her hands slide up her skirt, bunching it at her hips. He leans back, arching a brow appreciatively at the white lingerie he finds beneath. His fingers hook beneath the strap that attaches her stocking to her garter belt and pull back slightly before letting go. It snaps against the flesh of her thigh, making her squeal.
“Tommy, we can’t!” She protests. “I’m wearing things that I won’t be able to put back on if you take them off.”
“Why ever would I take ‘em off?” He asks mockingly, cocking his head. “It’d be a waste.”
She whines as, forcefully, he pushes the gusset of her knickers to one side, swiping through her slick folders, grinning at the wetness he finds. “Gonna make us late to our own wedding reception with this. Naughty, naughty.”
Writhing against the bed, she no longer cares for her fancy lingerie, or if she rumples her dress, not when she hears the metallic clink of Tom’s belt buckle opening. The noise travels straight to her core, causing her to clench around nothing, until finally he’s lining himself up against her entrance and pressing inside. No matter how many times her and Tom make love she’ll never get used to the exquisite torture of that first initial stretch. It robs her of all coherent thought every time, only able to focus on the feeling of him pushing her walls apart.
She expects him to be quick and brutal with her, but he stills once he’s fully inside, resting his forehead against hers. It’s comforting to have him this close, just to feel the weight of him.
As she runs her hands down his back, met with the wiry yet solid expanse of muscle, she’s taken back to a time when he first returned from France and was so thin she could feel every vertebrae in his spine. This is testament to how far he’s come, how far they’ve come; not just the weight he’s put back on, but that he’s healed enough to be in a place where can be someone’s husband, and he has chosen to be hers.
Feeling a prickle of tears in her eyes, she blinks them back, feeling embarrassed when one strays its way down her cheek, until she looks back up into Tom’s eyes to see his are similarly wet.
He holds her close, he takes his time with her. It’s gentle, unhurried, and full of love.
“I love you, Mrs. Bennett,” he whispers to her.
They are late to their reception, but met with rapturous applause as they enter through the pub doors nonetheless. They drink lager, and eat spam sandwiches, and Tom treads on her feet when they attempt to slow dance to ‘Sentimental Journey’ by Doris Day. She can’t imagine a more perfect evening, that is until Tom guides her outside.
They walk back towards the wall, their wall and Tom helps her up onto it, before sitting beside her. Her legs don’t dangle as high from the floor as they used to, and it’s odd to look down and see her legs draped in white lace, instead of littered with scrapes and bruises.
She grins when she turns to Tom, watching as he produces a paper bag of sherbet straws from his inside jacket pocket. “Just wanted to say thanks for helping me with my maths homework fifteen years ago,” he says with a cheeky smile, “Mates, yeah?”
Warmth spreads throughout her chest as she leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Always.”
21/12: Sunset & Orgasm Control - Tom Bennett
Word Count: 1.9k~ | Warnings: p in v sex, edging, fingering, orgasm control, Tom being a bit of a prick (what's new)
A/N: sorry this is kinda similar to the last one oops sue me
12 Days of Smuff Masterlist
She's quiet, he notes, and fiddling with her hands like she's nervous. Her pumps click rhythmically with each step, the biting, winter cold slipping beneath their clothes.
Tom is cocky, mean sometimes, but never usually cruel, like he is being now.
But he figures he should make her sweat a bit, wondering why he's acting the twat that he is, while her pretty little head whirs around with possibilities at why he might be angry with her.
Even he can admit to himself, it's a silly reason.
He'd been looking forward to seeing her for weeks. With every letter exchanged, every glance at her photo from the pocket of his uniform, he couldn't wait to touch her again, to breathe in her perfume and feel her warm body against his.
He'd remembered his words to her before left.
"I could stay here, between your pretty thighs, all day love."
She had rolled her eyes, and told him that she was more than willing to let him try.
And after hours of grueling travel, crossing waters and land to see her, the first thing he saw when he stepped off the train to the platform was her talking to someone else.
To the twat down the road no less, who for one couldn't take no for an answer, and secondly, had been discharged from service on bullshit medical grounds, in reality too much of a coward to face real war.
Not that Tom could compare, he'd picked the Navy as a way of distancing himself as much as possible. But he didn't say he was perfect.
He remembered watching her for a good few seconds. It was midday, but she'd made the effort and dressed up all pretty, done her hair, to make herself look good to meet him off the train.
And he had to admit, she did look absolutely gorgeous, just as he'd remembered.
But there was a rancid taste in his mouth left over as he narrowed his eyes at them as they talked. She was clearly uncomfortable, but forced a smile to her face out of sheer politeness. And everytime he reached out to touch her arm, she took a baby step back.
Even that wasn't enough to pull him out of his now foul mood.
She smiled and nodded, grimacing as she stepped away from him and turned suddenly to see Tom, the man she had come to see, a smile lifting to her face in relief.
To be met with Tom's expression, stoic and seething, had her face fall.
She knew that look well enough.
So he walked with her silently to her flat on the edge of town, the usual few minutes stretching into an eternity. She's stuffed her hands in her pockets, eyes downcast, as if she was wondering what she'd done to upset him but dare not ask yet.
At least until they were in the comfort of her flat.
The warm wall hit Tom as he entered her living room with a deep sigh. Through his annoyance, the familiar smell of her had his chest all tight, but was much too proud to even break his mood.
He shucked his bag onto the floor, bending to sit at the dining table, his hat scrunched tight in one fist.
Tom watched her as she pulled her coat off, able now to see the dress she'd picked. His favourite one of hers.
It almost made him feel bad, being this much of a twat when he saw how much effort she'd put into looking nice for him so eagerly.
“Tea?” She asks, raising her gaze briefly to him. And when all he gives is a curt nod, she sighs softly and puts the kettle on the stove, lighting the gas and waiting.
Any second now, he thinks, his finger tapping on the wood surface of the table, leg bouncing impatiently.
“Have I done something?” She asks, so quietly and kindly that it nearly, nearly breaks him. Makes him want to rip all her clothes off and let her know who she belongs to, after all his time at sea, the idea is all the more tempting.
His jaw tightens, “Don't know what you mean.”
“I think you do, Tom. You've not said a word to me. Come on, please.”
He sighs. It's a mistake looking at her. She gives him those eyes.
When he stands, she is reminded of his sheer size, his height, the broadness of his shoulders all but accentuated by the boxy uniform he wears. The early afternoon sun pours through the single glazing onto one side of his face, in such an amber glow that one might expect it to be setting already.
The winter sun looked good on Tom Bennett’s lazy stubble that coated his chiselled jawline.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat as he leaned over her, using his arms either side of her to cage her in against the kitchen counter. His usual mischief in his blue eyes is all but gone, and he bites his lip in annoyance, making the muscle of his jaw twitch.
“You get all nice and dressed up for him, hm?”
Her wide-eyed, terrified expression was too fucking adorable, he nearly let a smirk slip by.
“Who?”
He scoffed quietly, “That prick on the platform you were talking to so eagerly.”
He knew it was a lie, but it was too tempting to tease her. Knowing she’d flounder.
“What on earth are you-”
“Trying to impress him, are ya?” Tom was only human, and at the thought he was flustering her, he grinned.
“Tom, I was just being nice!”
He scoffed, showing his teeth as he smiled, “bit over the top though, wasn't it love?”
“What do you want me to do? Bat away every man who speaks to me?”
“That'd be a start, yeah.”
“See, now you're just being-” she started, but was swiftly interrupted with Tom surging forwards to her, his chest bumping against hers, his lips parting hers with ease and sliding his tongue against hers.
His motions were quick and calculated, one hand grabbing her waist, while the other worked swiftly to pull the hem of her dress up, his two long, slender fingers stealing between her thighs to feel how aroused she was.
He was pleased at what he found.
“Miss me, did ya?”
He saw her grip on the counter behind her tighten as he teased her through the thin fabric that separated their flesh.
Months and months of separation was pouring out of him into his actions on her.
She shook her head at him with a smile, breathing elevating by the second as his deft fingers slid down the front of her underwear, “you're such a-”
“Hm?” He smirked, sinking two of his fingers into her warm agonisingly slowly, curving upwards towards the top of her walls to massage that spot he knew so well.
He didn't need her to finish the sentence. He knew he was a cheeky bastard.
Tom was never one for soft touches, gentle kisses or words of utter devotion. Usually, anyway. He was much too proud for that.
He showed his possessiveness over her in many different ways. With a quirk of his lips, the grip of his fingers on her thigh and with incessant and brutal lovemaking.
Time slid by slowly after they'd returned to her flat, all of their actions drunkenly merging into one long moment of heavy breaths and their skin pressing against each other hotly.
Tom was quite impressed he'd managed to stay between her legs for hours, all without giving her the luxury of an orgasm.
It felt cruel doing it. But he was, in his own way, punishing her.
He held his hands against either side of her waist, shallowly pushing his hips against her backside with a lazy, languid pace. Hitting her sweet spot, but at the same time, lacking the intensity for it to really build into anything.
Her curls had fallen into waves with the exertion of the past few hours, and she was tired, her cheeks all flushed both with exhaustion, and all's frustration at being denied what she really wanted.
Her grip was tight on the windowsill in front of her, the winter sun almost touching the horizon.
“Christ, if anyone walked by right now, love.” He smirked, his thumbs sitting in the dimples above her backside, looking down between them at the way his length was slick with her arousal between rapid thrusts.
He nearly lost it when her walls fluttered around him, nearly sending him over the edge as well. The idea of anyone walking by the window, despite being on the first floor, was still exciting.
“Tom, please…”
“Ah, you'd like that, would ya?” He asked lowly, leaning over her and whispering against the shell of her ear, “who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?”
He heard and felt the telltale signs she was close again. She inadvertently tightened around him, her breaths coming all quick and her voice strained.
“Tommy…” she whimpered, turning slightly to try and capture his lips, groaning in frustration as he pulled away with a smug smile.
“Stop whinging, now. Sun's not set yet.”
She opened her bleary eyes to the horizon. The sun, annoyingly, had only just touched the skyline. And the repeated feeling of Tom stretching and filling her impossibly was beginning to crest without effort.
She moaned as Tom's full lips parted and bit at her neck, “If he could see you now. Fucking soaked and eager for me.”
Humiliation burned in her blood with every word he said, his pace never faltering even once. She wondered, briefly, how Tom was able to go on this long. But he was pent up and enjoying watching her teeter on the precipice of falling apart.
And it was just too tempting for him to even think about stopping.
Tom glanced up though, and saw the sun was slowly beginning to set, agonisingly slow, and a smirk split across his face.
His hand made its way around her face, gently pulling her face up to the amber glow of the sunset, “come on then, love. Let go for me.”
Tom delighted in the reaction he got from her, her whole body wracked with pleasure. All at once, heat flooded her limbs, making them tremble, and the sheer sound she lets out is enough in itself to make Tom fall apart right after her.
But it's her tightening around him that gets him in the end.
His face contorts as the pleasure burns in his veins, pulling out of her quickly, his dog tag necklace feels cool to the touch against his bare chest as he breathes, fisting his length and letting a shuddered groan slip as he paints the soft skin of her backside with his release.
If it feels like this for him, having been close to orgasm for hours, he can't imagine how it feels for her.
He pulls her up against his chest, his lips leaving lazy, open-mouthed kisses on her neck as their breaths and hearts slowly return to normal.
“You're not angry?...”, she managed between laboured breaths.
Tom chuckled lightly, his breath running hot over her neck, “Don't fret, love. I was only pulling ya leg.”
She smacked his arm playfully, both of them looking out onto the sky as the setting sun set it alight briefly before the darkness chased it away.
“You're a cheeky bastard, Tom Bennett.” She mused softly, in a way which made it clear she was smiling.
He tightened his arms around her, resting his chin on the crown of her head, “tell me something I don't know, darlin’.”
FOLKLORE. send me a prompt/kink/scenario and a character, and i will write you a drabble/blurb.
fake dating with tom bennett? congrats on 3k!!
ONLY ONES WHO KNOW.
pairing: tom bennett x fem!reader.
summary: when you hear news about your mother finding you a husband, you seek comfort in the last person you thought could help you: tom bennett. to your surprise, things take a turn you weren’t expecting.
content warnings: fake dating, flirting, kissing, confessions, just pure fluff.
note: i suck with period dialogues so don’t expect this to have that kind of writing, sorry. if there are any mistakes i apologize but as some of you may know english is not my first language. hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.
JUST HOLD MY HAND.” you say through gritted teeth, smile plastered on your face, trying not to show how stressed you really are,
“that’s exactly what i’m doing!” tom says, rolling his eyes and looking around even more stressed than you.
tom straightens his tie, his sweaty hand holding yours like his life depends on it.
“if you don’t stay still i swear to god i’m go—” you shut up when you see your mother across de room. “she is here, are you ready?”
he smiles, the first honest smile you’ve seen in the entire night. “i was born ready, love.” tom winks at you and you immediately blush.
looking away you try to calm yourself and remember the reason why you’re doing this. it is definitely going to piss off your mother, she’s never liked tom, and you will also get her off your back.
“remember,” you say as you make your way to her. “be polite and don’t make any witty comments, please.”
“don’t worry.” he wears his singular smirk, the one that makes you weak in the knees, and you force yourself to look straight ahead. but he notices and chuckles, leaning a little bit closer to leave a kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your back. “m goin’ to be the perfect boyfriend.”
“fake boyfriend.” you emphasize, squeezing his hand as you get closer to the woman. she’s talking with a couple of friends, glass of champagne in hand, but her gaze is on you. your mother is smiling but you know her blood is boiling under that facade.
“still the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.” he mocks you.
you know he’s just teasing you and wants you to react; that’s how tom bennett is, and it’s not the place to start arguing with him, even though you like to rile him up.
“your precious daughter is here!” one of your mother’s old time friend says. she’s wearing a big black hat while one of her hand has glass of champagne and the other a cigarette. only when she leans to kiss you on the cheeks, she notices tom. “and who is this handsome man?”
you make eye contact with your mother and you can see clearly in her eyes how she begs you not to say anything. you hesitate for a second but tom clears his throat and offers his hand.
“the boyfriend, ma’am.”
the gasps are way too dramatic but exactly the reaction you were expecting. however, your mother doesn’t react at all, there’s not a single change in her expression.
“oh, yes!” she finally says, leaving her glass at the table behind her. the fake smile she has reserved for this kind of events makes you nauseous. “we thought it would be a great idea to tell the news today… you know how my daughter loves to be the center of attention.”
tom caresses your hand with his thumb. his jaw is tense and you know he’s probably biting his tongue to not say anything.
“yes!” after a few moments you finally react, you will not let her win, it does not matter how much she pushes. “i really wanted to show him off.” you giggle, and tom plays his part too. he lets go of your hand and pulls you close by the waist while you rest your hand on his chest.
“what a beautiful pair you two are!” another woman says and you can’t believe how fake all these people are.
“enjoy the party.” you smile back at them, taking tom’s hand once again.
“i’ll join you.” your mother says, excusing herself with the group of people surrounding her.
you scoff, rolling your eyes when you turn away. you wish she would’ve stayed with them but she follows you to the garden.
“what are you doing?” she whispers, taking your arm with all the strength she has. and it hurts.
“i don’t know what you’re talk—”
“don’t take me for a fool, child.” a couple walks past you and she lets you go, at what tom immediately moves to stand between her and you, making sure she doesn’t put her hands on you again. “you want to embarrass me? is that what you’re trying to accomplish?”
“not everything revolves around you.” you fight back, the way she acts makes you want to cry. and you think tom notices that because he caresses your back without your mother noticing. “you didn’t think about asking me before trying to send me off to marry some old man?”
your mother’s gaze finds tom and the way she rolls her eyes reminds you of a child throwing a tantrum.
“this will not last.” she breathes through gritted teeth, scowling up at him.
“being mad doesn’t suits you,” you smile, scrunching up your nose. “it makes you look older.” rasing your index finger you caress the point between your eyebrows to show her exactly where her lines of expression are more noticeable.
she sighs, like giving up. but you know that’s not your mother, she may forget all about it tonight just for the sake of her perfect party. “we are going to have a long conversation tomorrow.” then, she turns around and walks away with a broken ego.
“that was scary.” tom says after a long period of silence. you sit on a concrete bench and sigh, already tired of the lie. “i like it.” he laughs and sits beside you. but when you look at him you can’t help but laugh too, pushing him by the chest playfully.
“do you think she believed us?” you ask, playing with your dress. tom reaches for your hand, giving it a little squeeze to make you look at him. when you do, he has a reassuring smile dancing on his lips.
“i do.” he looks inside the house and sees your mother right in his line of vision, keeping an eye on you. “but we have the whole night to keep pretending.”
“i’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
you really are sorry for going to him with your problems because you’re not even friends. you are friends with his sister and you know her well, but with tom is different. all your conversations always end with him flirting with you, although that doesn’t surprises you at all because he is like that with every girl in town. all your friends have fallen for him. and, even if you will never say it out loud, you won’t deny you find him quite easy to the eye or that he makes your heart beat faster every time he’s around.
you went to his house to seek advise from his sister but she wasn’t there, and you were so upset that when he asked you what happened you blurted everything out. after he made fun of your meaningless problems, he really felt pity so you started talking, and you talked for hours. so much that you ended up asking him for help. the last man you thought would ever want to help you.
“i had nothing better to do.” he shrugs, leaning against the back of the bench. “besides, i like to piss off moms.”
you bite the inside of your cheek. “well, i’m still sorry.”
tom sits upright, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, and leans towards you. “there’s something you could do,” he speaks softly as if sharing a secret. “a kiss will make it better.”
“you’re disgusting.” you move away, all the blood from your body going straight to your face.
“even if your mother is looking at us right now?” he says, his eyes fixed on the entrance behind you where your mother is nowhere to be seen.
“she is?!” you ask, surprised.
“don’t look! we don’t want to look suspicious, do we?”
for a moment you think about it. you want her to believe that you and tom are in a relationship. and the last thing you want is for her to suspect and start questioning you.
that thought is what drives you to find balance in tom’s shoulders as your lips collide against his.
his lips aren’t as soft as you though they were going to be but they still make your heart beat faster and your body tickle. it’s definitely not the first time you are kissing a boy but it is the first time you feel something.
your friends always told you when you kiss a boy you see fireworks and all the butterflies of the world in your belly, but you don’t feel anything like that. you feel calm—even though your heart beats like crazy in your chest—and little stars behind your eyes. you like what you feel.
tom cups your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks, and the loud music and people chatting become a light thrum in the background.
it flows naturally, like you were supposed to do it in the first place. it’s a slow and gentle kiss, he leaves his hands on your face to make you feel comfortable and it’s not what you were expecting when you dreamed about kissing tom bennett. you expected him to be smug and get carried away, to feel his hands pressing you against his body. you wouldn’t have minded if that was the case but you like how he keeps you close with a softness you didn’t know tom had in him, like you’re going to break if he tries something more.
after a couple of minutes that feel like hours, tom pulls away and you, instinctively, chase after his lips making him laugh lightly at you.
you feel overwhelmed and dizzy, his lips leaving yours with a tickling sensation as you try to breathe properly again and find the words lost in your mind.
tom doesn’t make fun of you or says something witty to ease the tension like he always does, he just looks at you with his bright blue eyes and waits for you to take the next move; it doesn’t matter to him what is going to be, he will take whatever it is.
“is she still… looking at us?” you still feel like flying after what you experienced and it’s really the only thought coming to you.
he chuckles and shakes his head but still looks behind you, there are people looking at you and they’ll surely tell your mother, but she’s nowhere to be seen. it is then that tom decides to be honest for the first time in his life.
“well,” he begins to say, and you immediately notice he is nervous. there are a few things you’ve learned about tom bennett from all the years you’ve been friends with his sister. his hand running though his hair and the tip of his tongue poking out from the corner of his lips when he’s about to either lie or say the truth is one of those things. “she wasn’t looking. i just wanted to kiss you.”
the way your face heats up makes him smile, which only makes you even more flustered. that confession of his is something you weren’t expecting, but at the same time you know the reputation tom bennett has with the ladies around town.
“do you think of me as another one of your conquests?” you ask him, gaze fixed on the patterns of your dress.
“you think so badly of me?” with his thumb he lifts your chin up but you refuse to look him in the eyes, too flustered still and shy of being so open with him. “don’t you think i have other things to do than just sit all the afternoon in the living room listening to you and my sister gossip while drinking tea?”
his words are enough to make you raise your head and, finally, look at him. the moonlight accentuates the sharp features of his face, giving him almost an angelic look.
“i agreed to do this because not only i don’t want you marrying some old french man.” his hand find yours, fingers playing with your own like two kids too nervous to hold hands. “but because i don’t want you to marry someone else at all.”
if his previous confession surprised you, this one makes your heart stop beating. you look at him trying to find the joke, a part of you expecting him to burst out laughing at any time. but one minute passes, and then another, and he keeps looking at you with all the patience in the world, not rushing you, not pushing you into anything; just giving you all the time you need to absorb all the information he threw you in the face.
do you like him? do you feel the same way? you have to admit you find him rather handsome. his blonde hair, puffy lips and blue eyes have appeared in your dreams more times than you can count. you’ve also find yourself daydreaming as you watch him across the room, sitting in the armchair smoking as his sister tells you the new gossips you don’t hear because you are too lost in your mind. you always listen attentively to everything he has to say, mesmerized by the way he expressed his beliefs, how despite showing to everyone that facade of ‘i don’t care about anything’ deep down he really cares. a lot. but he only lets it show with the people he trust the most. and recently you’ve noticed that you are one of those people. you enjoy his company and anecdotes, you make sure to stay at his house way past your curfew so he can walk you home and you can listen to his jokes and laugh at them, and talk and brush your hands and feel your whole body tickling by the proximity neither one of you dares to close.
do you feel the same way about him? in all honesty, you never considered it because you never really thought tom would feel something for you. you thought he just saw you as his sister’s rich and annoying friend who spent way too much time at his house, so he had no other choice but to put up with you and, in the end, he just ended up liking how nice and friendly you really are. you never thought he would see you as something more—as a woman.
you never thought about it until this very moment where he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world, like you’re the sun and the stars and the most precious of all gems.
and just like that you don’t even have to think about it.
“oh my mother is going to be so pissed off.” that’s all he needs as a confirmation to crash his lips against yours. this time he’s not gentle but it doesn’t matter, because you pour all your feelings into that searing kiss. a kiss that leaves no doubt that you are both finally alive.
May I request Tom Bennett + face sitting and/or mutual masturbation, please? ♥️♥️
Authors Note: Here you go darling! To be honest I played with this a bit still i hope you enjoy it! 😊
Am I entirely satisfied though? No, no I am not. I wish it were longer and do dislike starting immediately with porn then some sorted plot, but it’s how I started it so I hope people like it more than I do
Warnings: F oral, dirty talk, fingering, teasing, m oral, use of she pronouns, (if I miss any which I know I will let me know!)
Toms eyes were practically black with lust as they stared intensely into your own, which looked back at him with hesitance and nervousness.
Your naked body all on display for him to ogle at and admire. It’s thrilling yes, but your nerves out way it by so much you can’t help but cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover yourself and preserve some dignity.
Ever though Tom has done so much worse to you than stare at your tits…
“Tom, I-I’m not sure about this…” You murmur, hands fiddling together as you sit on the edge of the bed.
“It’ll be fine love! You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried too. Now, come sit on your throne like your the queen of England!” Toms charm as ever, is turned to a hundred per cent. His smile alone leaves thoughts that turn the tips of your ears a deep maroon-ish red.
“Fine!” You huff, uncrossing your arms so your Tom can freely ogle at your perky tits with wide eyes.
Toms rough hands grab your thighs eagerly as he shuffles himself to lay on his back, his head resting on a pillow as you slowly move to hover yourself over Toms face. His warm breath already sending shivers down your body as his hands lock on your naked thighs eagerly pulling you to sit on his face.
“Oh god…” You whine, grabbing the headboard for stability as Toms warm wet tongue already begins to dive into your warmth and caress your special places.
“No god here missus, only me…” Tom murmurs with a grin, nuzzling his shape nose into your clit to give that extra bit of stimulation that already makes your knees want to buckle.
The nickname makes your heart flutter in fondness, but the sweetness of the moment is smothered by filthy words as one of Toms hands teases your entrance, whilst his lips suddenly sucks harshly on your throbbing clit.
You have no idea what words you manage to get out, as they’re all just heavy slurs on the tongue that slip out quickly and wantonly.
You’re hands clench so tightly on the headboard you can hear the wooden surface begin to creak from the pressure, your knuckles practically white with the amount of force your using to keep yourself from falling and dropping all your weight down.
Toms own pressure on your body though is near excruciating to feel. His tongue teeth and lips making your lower half feel like it’s on fire, and that’s not including his hands. One of which’s fingers are hitting that tough patch inside you that makes you see stars, and the others holds your upper thigh firmly to keep you steady and still as your own body tries to escape his tight punishing gasp.
The coil that seems to constantly grow and grow only gets tighter and tighter the rougher Toms use of your body is. Which is why your reaction is so wanton and loud when you feel that coil snap.
“OH SHIT TOM!” You yell, the grip on the headboard quickly moving to grip on Toms hair whilst you cum, his deep groan of pleasure causing a low sigh to sneak from your chest.
As you feel yourself practically collapse to Toms side when he releases you from his hold.
“So… did my missus enjoy her thrown?” If you didn’t love him, you would’ve backhanded him for his cocky attitude.
“Yeah love. I adored it!” You laughed, your face blushing slightly when you see his drenched chin. Your eyes widening though when they veer down and see Toms hard bulge straining in his trousers.
“Let me help with that Tommy…” You smile, shifting yourself so your sitting between toms thighs before moving to undo his belt.
“You know you don’t need to do that missus…” Tom begins to speak but his voice fails him when you pull down his trousers and begin to mouth at his covered cock.
“Fuuuuck missus…” He groans, placing a hand on the top of your head to stroke at it in praise. “Doing so fucking good for me…”
You stop for a minute to strip Tom so he’s now fully nude, and you can practically already feel your mouth already beginning to water slightly at the sight of Toms nude form. Now free for your to ogle and stare at to your hearts content.
Your hands by pure muscle memory begin to stroke and caress the various scars that litter Toms body, and your lips making sure to kiss each one tenderly and firmly.
Though when you move to kiss Toms tip and begin to slide his cock slowly into your mouth, Toms hand leaves a delicious throbbing pain behind as it tightens in your hair, and you can’t help but groan around his cock at the feeling.
His cock is too big for you to fully fit, a fact Tom can’t usually help but comment on, so your hand has to make use of what you can’t swallow. Still, by the way Toms moans and groans fill your ears, you don’t think he really minds that much…
You grin smugly around him as you already begin to taste Toms precum that starts to coat your tongue, and yet you can’t help but find yourself groaning at the taste.
“Fuckin hell missus…. Gonna make me cum in your pretty little mouth… is that what you want me to do huh? Cum down your pretty little throat and make you swallow all of me, huh?” His dirty words make you clench around nothing, and your movements quicken slightly as in your own way agree to his dirty statement.
Your head does try to nod the best it can, and when you feel Toms hand that had previously been gripping the sheets for dear life help take ahold of your head with a firm grip, you knew Tom realised your answer, and wouldn’t be playing nice from here on out.
One hand grabs at your hair in a make shift ponytail and pulls you of his cock to give you some air, whilst the other moves to wipe the drool that had spilled from you mouth with his thumb.
“What a dirty girl I have… bet she’d even let me fuck her pretty little throat till she’s crying… the wanton whorish little thing…” The dirty words mixed with Toms dark menacing glare, makes the ache between your legs all that more prominent. And it’s like some sort of daze when your head nods agreeing to Toms sinful suggestion.
“Fucking knew it…” He grins, moving your head over his cock while you allow it all to happen. Eagerly allowing your body to be limp whilst you allow Tom to control you to his wishes.
Your throat and jaw aches by the intensity of it all, and yet you power through it by breathing heavily through your nose and your mouth when you can.
You can feel Toms cock begin to throb in your mouth, and your tongue moves to trace across the vein down the side of his cock as you try to get him to cum on your mouth.
It doesn’t take long for him to do it though. The familiarly bitter yet almost strangely sweet taste bursts on your tongue, and you swallow it down dutifully and eagerly. Even smiling slightly when Tom taps on your chin and you open your lips immediately to show him your empty mouth cum stained mouth.
“Good girl…” Tom grins, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger to drag and pull you into a deep and passionate kiss.
“Only for you love…” You grin, nipping his bottom lip slightly with your teeth as you lean back giggling slightly.
“Cheeky minx…” Tom laughs, running a hand down his shaking face pretending to be annoyed by your actions.
Your eyes run down his still heavy breathing chest, and they widen slightly in amusement and disbelief when you see his cock is still half hard against his stomach.
Toms own eyes following yours with a cheeky grin, his voice as mischievous as ever. “You wanna go again love?”
