#world on fire ocs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

Text

'Til the Sky Burns

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’.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

214 notes · View notes

happilyhertale · 6 months

Text

Sweet dreams – Tom Bennett x female!reader

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Summary: Like every night, Tom sneaks into your room so you can have some togetherness. But after you've fallen asleep, he suddenly has other things on his mind than letting you sleep.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fingering, dirty talk

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1k

Other stories of mine

12 days of smuff

Tom lies in the warm bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, a silent observer of the dance of shadows. Sleep eludes him, and the cigarette dangling casually between his lips releases a delicate stream of smoke with each puff, enveloping him. Outside, a relentless snowfall rages, enveloping the world in a serene white embrace.

However, the pristine beauty of the snow presented a challenge, making it difficult to climb up the façade to your window. But just seeing you standing at the top spurred him on, and every near slip was just a fleeting obstacle on the way to you.

His gaze wanders thoughtfully to the window. The glow of a distant street lamp falls into the room and casts a soft light on his outline. You lie next to him, your form turned away, and your rhythmic breaths create a soothing rhythm. The calm lulled you into a peaceful slumber after he made you cum on his cock, a subtle smile gracing your lips as you sank into the depths of dreams.

But as he listens to the soft murmur that escapes your lips, followed by a gentle sigh, his attention turns back to you. He watches your form, from your shoulders to your waist, until his gaze remains fixed on your ass – until you mumble something again.

Was that a "Tommy"?

He leans towards the bedside table for a moment, puts out his cigarette and then turns to you. His face finds its usual place in the crook of your neck, he inhales your sweet scent, which almost drives him crazy.

His hand slides under the blanket, covering your body with caresses until he gently caresses your bum. You haven't put your panties back on yet, his hand has free rein. You stir slightly, but your eyes are still closed, lost in your sweet dream. He savours your soft skin and how he can snuggle up to your body almost perfectly. Gentle kisses adorn your neck as his fingers continue to caress you. Until you suddenly moan softly in your sleep. Very softly, almost inaudibly.

He starts to knead the soft flesh of your bum, gripping it lightly. His face is still pressed into the crook of your neck as you whimper lightly in your sleep. A slight grin now forms on his lips. The soft, sweet sounds leaving your lips make the desire inside him rise.

His hand glides around your body. It reaches purposefully between your legs and he lets it slide gently through your already wet folds. Your whimpers get louder.

"Hmm... already so wet for me," he murmurs into your neck. A sigh leaves your lips as his fingers find your sensitive bundle of nerves. Gentle but firm movements are left by his fingers and you begin to move your hips slightly.

He nibbles lightly on your neck as the movements of his fingers quicken. Your eyes flutter open as his fingers begin to lightly tease your entrance.

"Tommy," you gasp.

But Tom only grunts slightly, letting his fingers enter you slightly.

"I couldn't resist, love... You were already so wet..." he whispers.

You whimper again as his fingers penetrate you deeper. Your hips start to move towards his fingers, hoping they would thrust deeper.

You bite your lip to stifle a moan so your parents in the other room don't get suspicious

"Tell me what you were dreaming about, Love," Tommy whispers suddenly. For a moment, a slight irritation crosses your face as your breathing becomes heavier. A low moan fills your room as his fingers thrusts deeper.

"You made such sweet whimpers in your sleep..." he continues to whisper.

He slips another finger in, rubbing just the right places. You gasp slightly, your eyes closed. You've been dreaming about Tommy visiting you at night and you spending wonderful hours together – like he really does every night.

"I-I've been dreaming about you, Tommy," you gasp.

He growls slightly as he hears your words, "About me? What were you dreaming about, Love?" he grunts lightly. You feel his hard cock pressing harder and harder against your bum and you whimper again.

"Of your tongue Tommy... How you make me come.. with your tongue..." you whimper.

Tom chuckles softly. His thumb begins to tease your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers rub over the rough patch deep inside you again and again.

You moan softly, biting into the pillow beneath you, your thighs begin to tremble slightly.

"Mmm, you'll have to make do with my fingers now... Is that okay, love?" he whispers.

But you can't answer – you feel your climax approaching and Tom‘s fingers thrusting into you faster. You're breathing heavily.

"Love? Is that okay... if I make you come with my fingers? When I thrust them deep inside you? Rub your sweet clit until your pussy clenches around my fingers... because she doesn't want to let go of my fingers?" Tom murmurs in your ear, nibbling gently on your earlobe. But again you don't answer, fearing that only a moan will leave your lips.

"But the way you're soaking my fingers, I'll take that as a yes..." he continues to murmur.

And that's enough. You literally cry out into the pillow as Tom pushes his fingers further into your spasming pussy.

He gently kisses your neck, "That's it, love... Enjoy it..." he whispers. The movements of his fingers slowly subside. You breathe heavily as the warm feeling floods your body and slowly subsides.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper slightly in response. As you look over your shoulder, you see him licking his fingers clean. You blush slightly.

"Tommy..." you whisper and slowly turn towards him. But he just grins and pulls you closer to him.

"Don't be so shy, love. You know you taste delicious... After all, you always kiss me when I've made you come with my tongue," he whispers.

"Tom!" you gasp, but he just chuckles slightly and pulls you closer to him.

@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @bellaisasleep @snh96 @echos-muses @bl4ckph0enix @autumnhymns @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr

#12daysofsmuff #12 days of smuff #tom bennett #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fluff #world on fire #ewan mitchell #aemond #tom bennett x reader #tom bennet x reader #tom bennett world on fire #tom bennett fic #tom bennett x oc #ewanverse

262 notes · View notes

xenomorphicdna · 5 months

Text

WooooOOOO YYEAHHH LOOK WHOS DONE!!!

FireLight! Augh so happy with the sprite, asymmetry is hell as always tho aaa

The nose is supposed to be orange umm I changed it now but it's not in the screenshots. I am devastated over the fact the fire covers the tail vents,, well I guess if they're spewing fire yeah you would see em hm,, ok you know what I feel better about it now

Real time thoughts, chat

#the fire is from the incandescence mod btw #technically this creechur is not a scug...hm #rain world #rain world oc #dress my slugcat #oc firelight #drawins

127 notes · View notes

namarikonda · 9 months

Text

❤️‍🔥 Dante Glassheart (he/they)

Your local fire genasi artificer & prosthetics maker! He lost his arm, and is now improvng accessibility in the world with his inventions.

364 notes · View notes

ballad-of-elgado · 3 months

Text

The reference for Link in my MonHun x LOZ crossover au is done!! Some things are subject to change, as always, as I build him and his story.

-> Support me on Kofi!

Most of this ref done thanks to MHRS, poses, refs, etc, to make my life easier, and changing things I needed changed. It probably would've taken way longer than a day if I had done the reference parts from scratch.

I wanted him to have kind of a bard-trader-hunter kinda vibe, being a hunting horn main and all (though he has a wide variety of weapons at his disposal). I think the dignified set really helps? Maybe expect more armor sets though? I'm not entirely sure. It completely depends on what styles I discover as I experiment in rise and older games. I know for a fact that Zelda's design is gonna be more iceborne-inspired tho.

His first impression is usually rather sour, he doesn't ever talk all that much and his resting face doesn't help his case. Getting to know him though, he's a bit of a gremlin and rather eccentric behind the scenes.

#loz au #monhun oc #monhun x loz #Link #Link (Elgado)#Fire Under Eldgado #ballad-art #my art #Kheprriverse #he's from bherna actually (mhgu) but made his home in hyrule later when the queen requested for it #kinda gonna have a combined world situation? but its normal.#so monhun locations combined with loz locations #him and zelda are gonna have matching hats :)#<- which wasnt on purpose. I just discovered a mixset style I think looks really good thats also very bard-like xD

101 notes · View notes

evita-shelby · 1 year

Text

Tie your heart to mine

Chapter 4

Gif by @nofckingfighting

“What you did was very stupid, sweetheart.” Thomas Shelby cleaned his glasses with a cloth and acted as if Diane had taken extra sweets at dinner or snuck out with her friends.

They sat in his office with a locked door, and she could hear ten-year-old Florence pressing her ear behind it.

“Had I understood mancunian slang it would not have happened, daddy.” She smoothed her skirt and clasped her hands on her lap.

He lifts an eyebrow knowing she’s trying to minimize the damage; bit doesn’t care to yell at her…yet.

“They recognized you and they told their papers you were there with a known criminal.” He shows her the missive written in the Manchester Gorton’s MP.

Luckily the man was a member of the Labour Party and hated Mosely as much as they did for the disturbances he caused in his constituency.

She didn’t like how they called Tom and Lois wayward children with a pacifist father.

“Now, I know Douglas Bennett and I know he wouldn’t have raised his children to be criminals, but I’ve seen the boy’s record myself, sweetheart.” He placed the glasses back on and mirrored her stance. “Didn’t you learn anything from your fuck up with Jack Nelson’s boy?"

There it was.

He was angrier about her having another boyfriend than getting arrested.

Not that he raised his voice, just looked at her with disappointment.

Expecting better from her because Charlie and her younger siblings combined aren’t even close to matching her track record.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, dad, things are over between me and Tom Bennett.” She said wanting to go to her mother for comfort instead of having her father punish her for wanting to be the fuck away from here.

He was not a bad father, she loved her family, but sometimes she just wanted to step away from Tommy Shelby’s long shadow and into the sunlight.

Which was why she loved being Diane no last name in Manchester.

Once it’s revealed her former boyfriend’s name is Tom, Florence is given away by her gasp.

“So, am I getting my things tomorrow myself, or are am I back in my tower?” Diane asks, knowing this is far from over but done for now.

Can’t handle Florence repeating his verdict to everyone who can hear her, especially Andy Roberts, her boyfriend these past four years.

“I am going with you.”

Douglas Bennett is surprised to see him there.

“Mr. Shelby, what can I do for you?” he calls him that as if he didn’t change beds so Tommy could be next to John who’d woken up to the news his wife had died.

They would leave with Douglas, only they would be made to come back once Martha Shelby, the second Mrs. Shelby with that name, was burned and the children told their mother was dead.

“You put up with us on the boat to Portsmouth and the train to Birmingham, Douglas, call me Tommy.” Tommy said hoping to make the man relax.

“This about your Diane and my Tom, I take it.” Douglas did not beat around the bush after letting him in.

The man had tact, but he knew when to get to the point.

Good man, shame Tommy isn’t here to renew their acquaintance.

“Yes, is your boy here?” he asked as the gangster turned politician made himself comfortable in the modest little house.

They could have lived like this if he hadn’t been ambitious.

Douglas only wanted enough to keep his wife and his children healthy and happy.

Thomas wanted everything. Nothing had ever been enough ever since he was little, it only took the war and Greta dying in his arms for him to stop hiding it.

“He will be, never misses a meal.” Douglas tried to make his son look less irresponsible than he was.

And sure enough, the boy comes in asking about the car outside.

Thomas knew in this moment, he would hate this man forever.

Too much like them at his age.

Only difference, he had a dad who loved him and raised him.

Arthur Shelby Sr only came when he wanted to give his mother another burden or drag them into his life of crime.

If only they had not taken to it like a fish to water.

Thomas Bennett is not what he wants for his daughter.

The lanky blond young man who steals what he can because he can’t commit to a job or have enough ambition to get out there is not the man he wants for his little witch.

“You can have it, if you want it.” Tommy begins, taking out the silver cigarette case with a sapphire to match the one he gave his wife and offering them a cigarette.

“Who the fuck are you?” the manc said eyeing him with suspicion.

With some work he might be a good addition to the company.

“Tom, have some respect.” Douglas chastised him, but the boy only rolled his eyes and stood there with crossed arms.

“Sorry, Tommy, he’s been wayward since his mother passed.” Douglas apologized for his son and Tommy knew this man had no idea what to do with his own children even before his wife died.

“I’ve been called worse; you wouldn’t believe the shit I put up with in London.” The MP dismissed his apology.

Besides, Douglas will be tossing him out in his arse after this.

“Thomas Shelby, Diane’s father.” Thomas said without stretching out a hand for the boy to shake.

Diane would be allowed to stay here.

If she worked on the factories like she promised and kept away from protest, she could stay here and carve out her own path for their company.

Lois had dropped by, and Diane apologized.

To her surprise, Lois Bennett forgave her.

And to Lois’ surprise, Diane had used her connections to get her the address of the family hosting Harry Chase in Poland.

Harry Chase had told her he loved her before she broke his heart right before he left and she hadn’t said it back.

Now that it was going on to four months with no letters from him, Lois was worried he had forgotten about her.

That, worse, he had moved on to some Polish girl who was everything she was not.

“Its been three months since I’ve gotten anything back from him. I don’t even know if he’s alive, Di.” Lois admitted while she wrote down her letter in stationary Diane took straight from her father’s desk this morning.

Anyone can ignore the letters of a lovesick girl from Longsight, but no one could ignore one from Sir Thomas Shelby, MP OBE and first Baronet Shelby.

“Which is why you need something no one can ignore.” The witch said hoping things can go as smoothly with Tom as it did with his sister. “If he hasn’t been getting your letters, he will know. If he can’t get any out, he will now.

No one refuses Mr. Shelby.”

“How much do you want?” Tommy said pulling out his checkbook ready to see how much it would cost him to be rid of this boy.

Diane deserved better, this was for her.

Besides if he took the money, he was never with her for the right reasons.

“Now I know why Diane lied about who she was.” The boy ---Thomas refused to see the twenty-two year old as anything else than a boy— said to hurt him.

Diane hated the spotlight as much Tommy did, had been relieved when she saw she lacked the height requirements for professional ballet like her mother.

Strange how Polly saw she would be an actress in Hollywood.

But even Elizabeth Pollyanna Gray could be wrong.

“I don’t want your money, I told her I never wanted her for her money either.” The boy refused and Douglas looked proud of his son.

There was hope for him yet.

But Thomas Shelby doesn’t give a shit about whether Bennett has something resembling morals or a brain.

Thomas Shelby just wants him out of his daughter’s life.

“So you say, and yet everyone has a price, boy.” Tommy looks him in the eye and the boy, to his credit, doesn’t back down.

“Shelby, I’m warning you.” Douglas said growing angry and borrowing the courage from the son who never sees eye to eye with him.

“I don’t need to you to defend me, dad, I can handle him myself.” Tom stops his father before the pacifist does something against his code.

“Not me, old man. You can give me everything you have, but I won’t take it. You can’t make me take your fucking money, Shelby.” The boy continued to refuse.

And then made it all worse.

“No wonder she hates being your daughter.” The boy spat and Tommy fought every urge he had in him to throttle him.

Polly laughs at him from the great beyond.

Was he like this before the war, when Mr. Jurossi did all he could to chase him away from Greta?

Did Eva’s family think of him as low as he did of Douglas’ boy when they found out they married less than four months after they met one December morning?

“I don’t give a fuck about your money, Mr. Shelby, I wouldn’t change my feelings for your daughter for all the money in the world either. I love her, and I know she loves me and you are just going to have to live with that.”

Tom Bennett looked damn proud of himself, just as Tommy did once upon a time.

“Fine, suit yourself, boy. Just know this, even if you managed to get your head out of your arse, you wouldn’t be worthy of my daughter.

I’ll see myself out, Douglas.”

#diane shelby x tom bennett #tie your heart to mine fic #tom bennett x ofc #tommy shelby x oc #eva smith shelby #world on fire peaky blinders crossover #tommy shelby #world on fire ocs #ewan mitchell

27 notes · View notes

druidshollow · 6 months

Text

fire gets a bit of a touch up and i spend the whole night drawing him teehee

#rain world oc #iterator oc #rain world #rw downpour #rw iterator #fire #flowers #druid draw #druids hall of fame #im so tired of drawing the inside of puppet chambers LMAO #fire gets a slight reskin because he didnt look great before. and now he resembles rivers a bit more which is cool

193 notes · View notes

barrenclan · 1 year

Photo

“Issue #13: To Kill Is Right. To Kill Is Good. To Kill Is To Live.”

Content warning for an abusive husband and father in this issue.

In case it’s not 100% clear somehow, Pinepaw is NOT narrating this issue - Cormorantpaw is the narrator! Pinepaw is still going to be the POV character for almost the entire story, but every once in awhile there will be another narrator for an issue, which will always be marked with their name on the first page.

Lot of lore in this issue! I’m glad to finally be able to give a look into Cormorantpaw’s history, although this is not nearly the full story of what happened and what led him and Egret to end up in BarrenClan territory. Still, it’s nice to be able to reveal the members of his family and their appearances.

The “corpse” that Thrasher brings to the den, as well as the one that Cormorantpaw has killed in the last page, are both least weasels.

Previous < > Next

764 notes · View notes

assortedseaglass · 6 months

Text

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twenty Three

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Strong Language, Angst, Smut, Violence, Depictions of War, Mentions of Death, Depictions of PTSD, Injury Detail, Era typical Sexism, Era typical Homophobia, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Domestic Abuse (very brief), Depictions of Reproductive Health, Suicidal Thoughts, World on Fire Spoilers.

Notes: Been a while, hasn’t it? Here's 7K for ya. I’m writing this for me and the few people that are still engaging with it. If you enjoy it, and you know who guys you are, then I’m happy!

There are probably mistakes, but I'm ill. Soz.

“Morning, pet. Brought you a cuppa. Poor thing,” A soft hand ran over Tom’s forehead, as though testing his temperature, and brushed the hair from his eyes. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

Tom’s head was pounding. Rubbing bleary eyes, he took the tea from the person above him. Perfectly manicured nails, ringlets, red lipstick and the overpowering smell of lavender.

“Cheers, Queenie.”

“Anytime, love. Here,” she draped his threadbare jacket over the bedframe. “Tried to get the mud out as best I could.”

“Mud?”

“Yeah,” Queenie chuckled. “You fell over by the park. Our Frank was worried he’d have to carry you the rest of the way. Listen, I’ve got bacon and eggs on the stove, pop down when you’re dressed.” With small, high-heeled steps, she tottered from the room.

Fuck.

Tom rose tentatively from the bed, his head pounding. When he felt he could stand without vomiting, he made his way to the small wash basin in the corner of the room and caught sight of himself in the old mirror.

If it wasn’t for the pulsing of his head, Tom would have suspected he’d died and was looking at his own ghostly reflection. Purple circles rimmed his usually bright eyes, which were dull and tired. His skin clung to his face- he could do with twelve plates of Queenie’s bacon and eggs by the looks of him -and the shadow of his stubble was darkening his chin. Despite his age, he looked old. As though someone had tried to draw youth after only having it described to them. A thousand lives had been lived behind his eyes, some of them he wouldn��t wish on anyone.

“Breakfast, Tom!” Queenie called up the stairs. Tom splashed his face with water and, looking at his reflection once more, had to fight the urge to spit at it. Pathetic.

Downstairs, Queenie was fussing around the kitchen table at which sat two distinctly different figures. Frank Smith was reading a newspaper, a steaming cup of tea beside him. Upon seeing Tom, he muttered a quiet “good morning”, and hid behind the paper. Opposite him was perhaps the oldest lady Tom had ever seen. Wrapped in moth eaten shawls and gawdy jewellery, she wore a permanent smile, though even from where Tom stood he could see that nothing much was going on behind her eyes.

“Have a seat, Tom.” Queenie passed him a plate of breakfast. The only seat available was by Frank, and the man shuffled awkwardly as Tom sat beside him, memories of Tom screaming at him in the school corridor swirling in his mind. The old lady opposite looked slowly up at Tom and gave him a gummy smile. She gargled a little.

“Hello, m’am,” Tom nodded his head and went about adding sugar and milk to his tea.

“This is Tom, Nanna.” Queenie bent low and shouted in the woman’s ear. “Tom. Bennett. Poor old thing doesn’t know today from tomorrow but she seems happy enough,” she directed at Tom, who nodded wearily and shovelled eggs into his mouth.

“Beautiful boy,” the old woman said. Her gummy smile was a little off putting but the kindness, even if she said this kind of thing to everyone, was just what Tom needed in his hungover shame. He placed his hand over hers. “Beautiful boy,” she cooed as though looking at a newborn. Tom supposed, compared to her great age, he was.

“She’ll be one hundred and two in March, won’t you Nanna?” Queenie shouted.

“Don’t look a day over twenty-one,” Tom said.

Nanna Warren let out a hearty heh heh and allowed Queenie to spoon porridge into her mouth. They all ate in silence, apart from Nanna Warren’s little murmurs and mutterings, and when they were done, Queenie took their plates to the sink. “Frank, love, take Nanna into the front room.”

Frank set his paper down resignedly and lead the old woman into the hallway. “Beautiful boy, beautiful!”

“Got plans for the day, Tom?” Queenie turned from the sink and fixed him with a watchful but friendly gaze.

“Find m’self a bed to sleep in and a shower. Reckon I’ve got a few apologies to make an’ all.”

“Mmm,” War had matured Queenie Warren too. She was still girlish and flirtatious, but she seemed to have realised her words had meaning and was making amends for her off-handed comments of old. “Bess is some woman-”

Tom laughed fondly. “Yeah,”

“- I could never put up with you.”

Perhaps not. “I’ll be off Queenie, thanks for letting me stay. Say ta-ra to Frank for me.”

“I won’t, I know you two don’t see eye to eye. Take care of yourself, give Bess a kiss from me.”

Tom shrugged on his jacket, pulled up the collar and made his way into the cold day. Apologies. Where to bloody start.

Each of the Vaughn girls was looking at their father with disgust.

He had come downstairs that morning reeking of ale and grease from the dockyard, sat in his armchair, let out an almighty belch and promptly dozed off. When Cora kicked him and shoved a plate of eggs under his nose, he took them with a scowl and ate in silence.

“Just one more bloody man to worry about,” Bess huffed from the kitchen table.

“Bugger off back to Carver Mills then,” Fergal snapped.

“Don’t you two start,” Cora slammed a fresh loaf of bread onto the table. “I’ve heard enough bloody bickering these last twelve hours to last a lifetime.”

“Watch your language-”

“Be quiet!” All three girls shouted at their father and he fixed them with an annoyed stare.

Breakfast was a solemn affair with Fergal fighting through his hangover, the girls’ lack of sleep and Bess’ additional worry over Tom. In truth, some of it had waned in the hours since she woke up. After hearing Tom’s idea of a woman’s purpose in this world, her worry had dwindled to a mild apprehension. When Dot came in from collecting the milk and told her the Mrs Mason’s eldest had seen Tom entering Queenie Warren’s Cringle Park home late last night, her mild apprehension became a fully borne rage.

Bess liked to think she trusted Tom to stay loyal to her. But something in his astoundingly arrogant display at the Palais gnawed at her confidence.

“Got any towels, Cora?”

“Dot, for God’s sake, wash your own.”

“Bess?”

“One, in my handbag.”

Dot kissed her sister’s cheek and began rummaging through her bag. “I’ll wash it and give it back.”

“Keep it, I won’t want it back-”

“I don’t need to be hearing about your filthy woman talk-”

“Be quiet!” Each of the girls shouted again at their father. Bess watched as Dot disappeared upstairs. She had been carrying a towel with her everywhere, just in case. She always did of course, in the event of her monthlies, but her monthlies were now three weeks late and she had an appointment with Sister Murphy in a week’s time.

A knock at the front door made each Vaughn jump.

“That’ll be Dennis with the post,” Cora was already rounding the kitchen table, pulling her apron off as she did so. Bess was in no mood to see rat-faced Dennis Warley and the contemptuous looks he saved especially for her and her tailored slacks. She stood from the table, gave Fergal a wide berth and went upstairs to dress.

Stuff Dennis Warley and his shit taste. Bess pulled out a dark dress from the draw she still kept in her sisters’ room, covered it in a dark jumper and pulled on some thick woollen socks. Her hair, still curled from last night, she tied off her face with a scarf, the frizzy strands settling on her shoulders.

Lying back on the bed, she cradled her stomach. It was a little plump, thinner now because of rationing, but still soft and doughy. Bess rubbed circles over it, wondering what it would be like to feel it grow. In her need for him, and his for her, Bess and Tom had been reckless. But surely, it would have happened by now? When he found his way back to her after his months on the run in Europe, she was so certain in her need for him, her love for him, that a sheath didn’t matter. When he had returned this time, so hungry for her after discovering his father gone, hadn’t she welcomed him openly? Given herself over to him completely because that was what he needed? Perhaps this time, she had given too much. She’d seem him with Vera, and Jan, and not worried about the consequences. After last night, however, she was scared.

Downstairs, Cora and Dot’s voices raised in pitch and volume, and Bess looked up at the ceiling. A new crack had formed there. Trust Dennis to say something stupid.

Only it wasn’t Dennis Warley at all. Downstairs, Cora Vaughn was locked in a battle with none other than Tom Bennett.

“I wondered when you’d show up,”

“Cora, I-”

“Roger’s not here, so don’t worry-”

“I’m not worri-”

“You looked worried last night when he dumped you on the pavement.”

“Give over, Cora. Posh knob wouldn’t get his hands dirty. S’why he’s off flying planes and leaving us lot in the muck-”

“Don’t you start on Cora!” Dot pushed past her sister and jabbed a finger into Tom’s chest.

“He tried last night, Dot.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Fergal Vaughn stood from his chair by the hearth and made his slow way to the front door. “Give him a piece of your mind did you, my girl?”

“I did, Dadda.” Cora’s eyes were still set on Tom. Indeed, so were Fergal and Dot’s. “And Dot gave him a smack.”

“Save your energy next time, Dot. You could beat Tom Bennett into next year and he’d still come up with some sorry excuse-”

“Is Bess in?” Tom pinched his nose.

“Care about Bess now?”

“Shut up, Dot.”

Fergal lunged at him. Tom’s arms instinctively reached outwards. The two men stumbled into the cobbled street, each gripping the other’s collar. They grappled for a while, Fergal’s size and Tom’s athleticism preventing either from felling each other.

Hearing the commotion from upstairs, Bess hurried down the narrow stairs and into the street.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?”

The bundle of bodies stopped moving at once. Dot slid off Tom’s back. Fergal dropped his arms from Tom’s collar and Cora stumbled backwards from her attempt to restrain her father.

“Bess, love-”

“Look at yourselves.” Bess folded her arms. “A disgrace to mam’s memory. And Marie’s.” She pointed at Tom. “Get inside. The lot of you.”

Like a troupe of naughty children, Fergal, Cora, Dot and Tom filed into the house. No sooner had Bess slammed the door was she grabbing Tom’s wrist and pulling him into the yard. “I’ll deal with you lot later,” she said to her family, each stood sheepishly in the kitchen.

The autumn air was crisp outside. Dadda’s chickens were scraping at the earth and scurried forward when Bess turned over a bucket to perch upon. Seeing she had nothing to give them, they went about their business.

Tom watched Bess as she lit a cigarette and stared ahead. God, she was gorgeous. Sat there in the morning light, hair aflame, all haughty and tight-lipped. She was just as he always imagined her. When she turned her head ever so minutely to look at him from the corner of her, he winked.

“Don’t flirt with me.”

Tom raised his chin and straightened his back. He knew Bess loved his neck, and from her low position she would be able to see the perfect angle of his jaw. “It’s working then.”

By way of a reply, Bess blew smoke into his face. With a small smile, Tom crouched before her and took her empty hand in his.

“I’m sorry,”

Bess watched him, taking another drag of her cigarette.

“I-,oh fuck,” Tom stood up again and paced the small yard. Apologies. How the fuck do you apologise? Not as a way to wriggle out of trouble, but to truly make amends? Before he could start, Bess spoke first.

“I heard you and Dadda had a little chat.”

“Yeah-”

“And then you insulted Bobby. And my suit,”

“You looked gorgeous-”

Bess hmphed. “Then you made a scene-”

“Dot smacked me!”

“Not hard enough!” They glared at each other. “And after that, you had the bare-faced cheek to insult Cora and Roger. On their special night!”

“I know,” Tom deflated visibly in front of her and Bess’ heart melted a little. A little. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“What for?”

Christ, Bess was breaking his balls. He sighed. “For fighting with your father, for ruining Cora’s night and for the awful things I said to you and Bobby.”

“And?”

“And what?” He was getting annoyed now.

“Didn’t think you liked Frank Smith.”

“I don’t. He’s a prick.”

“But you spent the rest of last night with him? Was Walter Watson there too? Bragging about how you got into my knickers? Or planning how the three of you could next embarrass me, as a joint effort?”

“No,”

“Anything else to add?”

“No?”

“Then think.”

Tom looked up, wracking his brains. Cora, Dot and Fergal were peering out of the window, transfixed by the goings on in the yard. Cora and Dot hastily withdrew from the window. Fergal continued to stare at Tom and Bess.

“Erm-”

“Where did you stay, last night? Only, I said you could come to ours but-” She let the sentence trail off.

Fuck.

Bess’ eyes had turned dark. She leant forward on her knees and casually flicked the ash from her cigarette. She was waiting. Had thrown down her gauntlet. The challenge? Daring Tom to make up an excuse, as he always did. Well, enough people had tried to outsmart him before. There was a reason he was so good at stealing car parts and had managed to wrangle his way out of jail. It wasn’t this, though, that made his blood boil. No, it was Bess’ lack of trust.

“Stayed at Queenie’s.” It was blunt. Tom wanted to embarrass her for trying to trip him up. It didn’t work.

“She finally got you in her bed then.”

“Yes, she did.” At Tom’s words, Bess blanched. A few tears pin-pricked her eyes and she looked like a child. Tom softened immediately. “She slept in the other room, with Frank. They’re courting, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Or had you conveniently forgotten so you could have a reason to be angry at me?”

“You managed that yourself.”

Silence.

Once more, Tom crouched in front of Bess. She had nowhere to look but at his sandy hair, that silly old jacket, those extraordinarily blue eyes. “I know I behaved like a fucking prick, but I’d never do that.” It was too horrible an idea to even voice. “Please, please, of all people, please trust me.”

Bess looked at him. The little crease between his brows. The world-weary, tired eyes. His lips, pursed with tension. She reached out and stroked his cheek. From the window, a small squeal sounded. Dot.

“I do. God help me, I do.”

The door opened abruptly. There was Cora, a crying Vera in her arms. She shoved the baby at Tom. “Make yourself useful.”

Tom scooped his niece into his arms, confusion evident on his face. “Why do you have her?” He began bobbing on the spot to soothe the crying babe and Bess felt he stomach clench. Her stomach, and something farther south.

“You haven’t told him?” Cora scowled at Bess and Tom looked between the sisters. As though she could sense him doing this, Bess turned from her sister to Tom.

“It’s fine,” she stood up and approached Tom and Vera, running a soothing hand over the baby’s brow. “She’s fine, Connie popped over with the baby this morning.” She took Tom’s hand. “Lois was injured in last night’s raid.”

“Oh fuck,” Tom’s legs wobbled and Bess made to cradled Vera. He found his footing, but fear was etched across his face. Day by day, his family was growing smaller.

“She’s ok, Tom, she’s ok. Hit her head but she’s at home. Well,” Bess swallowed awkwardly. Where was the Bennett home now? “She’s at Connie’s.”

“You best get over there, boy.”

“Cora,” Bess said warningly. With folded arms and a small tut, Cora turned on her heel and stalked back into the house. Bess rapped a knuckle on the window. Dot and Fergal hurried away from the glass.

“Take Vera,” Bess gripped Tom’s jacket and pulled it around the wee thing. “Go and see Lois and maybe, if I’m not still angry at you, I’ll see you at the flat?”

Tom looked down his nose at her, taking a step closer. Vera, nestled between the two, settled and was content to make small gurgles as she watched two of the people she loved most above her.

“You won’t be angry for long,” Tom’s lips were dangerously close to Bess’. Thank God Fergal wasn’t still at the window.

“Is that so?” Bess whispered, bringing her face close to his. Thank God the baby was between them. From here she could smell yesterday’s cologne, the slightest whiff of lager and his Marlboro’s. It was intoxicating. Damn Tom Bennett.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Bess Vaughn.” Tom gripped the front of Bess’ jumper and pulled her close. “The way you’ve always looked at me.”

Both were remembering the day Bess returned from the central Manchester, clad in white and turning heads everywhere she walked. Remembering the way she watched Tom as he stretched to fetch her a glass of wine.

Just as Tom made to kiss Bess’ plump lips, she pulled away. “I need to go. Meeting Kasia at Southport.”

Tom looked at her with mock bemusement. “Southport? This time of year?”

“Aye,” Bess kissed Vera’s mop of soft hair and straightened. “She needs a friend and I’ve decided to be that friend. It’s nice, she tells me all about how disappointing Harry is-” she looked Tom squarely in the eye. “- and I do the same about you.”

“Nothing disappointing about me, love.” Again, he winked and Bess felt herself blush.

“Get away with you. Go to Lois.”

“Yes, captain.” With Vera tucked against his chest, Tom made his way to the gate into the ginnel. He saluted to Dot and Cora, who were once more watching from the kitchen, and opened the latch. A small hand wrapped around his wrist, and before he could fully turn around, Bess’ warm lips met is.

“I love you.”

“I know,” she smacked his arm. “I love you.”

Bess closed the gate behind him and listened as made his way down the ginnel, cooing to Vera all the way. When she turned around, the back-room curtain rustled. No doubt Cora and Dot would have plenty to say.

Vera was asleep by the time Tom made it to Connie’s small flat. He knocked on the door and was welcomed by the one-legged young man he had met just a few days before.

“She yours?” He used his walking stick to point at Vera.

“No. She’s Lois’. From upstairs?”

“Oh right. Yeah. Heard your sister took a knock in the raid last night.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“Lucky really. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”

“Unlucky, how?” Tom’s anger prickled.

“You’re in the war, mate. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen men blown to pieces somehow still clinging on to life-” He knocked is fake leg with his cane. “Better sometimes that the war finish us off, rather than making us linger in this living hell.”

“Can I see Lois, mate?”

The strange man shuffled aside and, cradling Vera close to his chest, Tom ran up the stairs to Connie’s flat two steps at a time. The door was open when he got there. Connie sat at the small table, making notes on some sheet music. She looked up at hearing the floorboards creak as Tom approached, and silently waved him in.

“She’s in my room,” she whispered. “Been sleeping most of the day but I heard her get up not long ago.”

“Cheers, Con,” Tom made towards the bedroom door but Connie stepped in front of him.

“Give Vera here,” she held out her hands and Tom tentatively let his niece go.

“Won’t Lois won’t to-”

“Best if it’s just you, I think, love. Will be alright, won’t we?” Connie cooed at Vera as she babbled happily.

The small room that Lois shared with Connie was dark. The dirty curtains were drawn and piles of baby clothes littered the cupboard. Fresh and folded, but left out of the drawer. The bed creaked and from beneath the tattered blanket, Tom’s sister appeared.

Her head was wrapped in a large bandage, the kind that Tom would give her when they played hospital as children. Her curly hair poked awkwardly from the bottom and did little to hide the black bruises beneath her eyes.

“What the fuck happened?” Tom perched on the end of the bed.

“You got any cigarettes?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Always,” he grabbed the packet from his trousers, lit one and passed it to his sister. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since this morning.” Lois coughed through the smoke and relaxed against the iron headboard.

“So,” Tom nudged her leg gently but spoke firmly. Despite their argument, he was still her brother. “What happened?”

“Was getting an old fella from a house last night, it had been hit in the raids.” She shuffled uncomfortably. “And yeah, the ceiling came down on my head.”

“Only ‘cause you went back in to get his bloody teeth!” Connie walked past the door with Vera on her lap.

“Dad’s spirit is living on then,” Tom whispered under his breath.

“Oh for God’s sake, Tom!” Lois tried to get up from the bed but Tom was still sat on the covers. “I’m really not in the mood to be shouted at about dad. Again-”

Tom swore under his breath. “Lois! I know you think I’m a wind up but I meant it as a fucking compliment. Going back in to make sure that old lad was comfortable is exactly what Dad would have done.”

They sat there awkwardly for a moment and watched the cigarette dwindle into nothingness. When it was done, Lois covered Tom’s hand with hers.

“Thanks for coming,” she whispered quietly.

“I’d be a twat not to. Wish you’d called.”

“Where would I call?”

Tom huffed a sad laugh. There was no happiness to it at all. “The Vaughns?”

“From what I hear, you’re not very popular in their house.”

“Jesus Christ,”

“Connie told me after she dropped Vera off this morning.”

“I’ve already been round. Apologised.”

“Ooh, I suddenly got a chill,” Lois huddled under the covers. “It seems hell has frozen over.” Tom smacked her leg. “Don’t hurt me, I’m ill!”

“Doesn’t count when it’s self-induced.”

“How did it go? Your apology? Charm your way out through the back door?”

“I see you’ve still got no faith in me,”

It was Lois that nudged Tom this time. “Don’t be daft.” Tom didn’t reply, simply stared at the watch on his wrist. The battery had stopped, its hands pointing to 6.04. “Be more like dad.”

“You what?” Tom glanced at her. She looked ridiculous with that enormous bandage wrapped round her head, and in his eyes she seemed just as tired as he was, but her annoying I-know-something-you-don’t attitude remained.

“Actions, not words. That’s the best way to say sorry. To really say sorry. Something Harry could never manage…” Lois’ voiced trailed off but, when Tom laughed, she looked at him sharply.

“Bess is off to see Kasia this afternoon. Said something about slagging me an’ Harry off.”

“I could give them some fodder!”

Tom laughed, without bitterness, for what felt like the first time in years. “You should join them.”

“Can’t,” Lois sighed resignedly and looked around the tatty room. “Too much to do.” Dirty napkins and baby toys were scattered around the place. The laundry basket was overflowing. A plate of half-eaten toast was forgotten by the bed. With hands on his knees and head bent, Tom pushed himself from the bed and began sorting the clothes.

“What you doing?” Lois was standing now, wrapping herself in a dressing gown and making her way towards the small room where Connie was singing to Vera.

Tom looked over his shoulder at his sister and winked. “Actions, not words.”

An old gentleman and the woman tucked into his side scowled at Kasia and Bess as they ran past.

The young women’s shrieks took flight in the sky and carried across the flat beach. The tide was way out, a few algaed rocks just showing beneath the lapping waves. In the miniature tidal pools, Bess and Kasia stomped, kicked salty water at each other and ran away from the waves. It had been so long since Bess felt this carefree. For Kasia, even longer.

“Robina will kill me,” Kasia gasped between giggles as she wiped sand from her grey skirt.

“The sooner I get those trousers finished the better.” Bess huffed as she slung her arm around Kasia’s neck, and together they walked the long stretch back up the beach. In the distance, the old couple kept glancing back at them as they made their way to the promenade. Ahead of them, a solitary figure was making its way towards the water. Probably one of the clam fishers, thought Bess.

“Do you know,” Kasia said, looping her arm through Bess’. “I don’t think I ever saw Harry laugh like that. Not really.”

“Me neither. Saw him grin once when his private school lads beat the St Thomas’ team at cricket.”

Kasia exaggerated a frown and pouted her lips. “So. Serious.”

Bess laughed. “Our Tom doesn’t have a serious bone in his body. Perhaps we should swap!”

At this, Kasia fell about. “Poor Vera wouldn’t know who is who.” The pair cackled and cackled until Bess could do naught but gulp for air.

“I like to think Tom’s changed,” Bess laughed. “But I know he’d swap with Harry just to wind up Mrs Chase.”

“Brought you girls some dinner.” Over Kasia’s renewed giggles, Bess almost missed the voice behind her. She span around quickly and lost her footing in the wet sand. As quickly as she did, Tom heaved the paper bundles under one arm and gripped Bess’ with his free hand.

He’d washed since Bess saw him that morning, though he was still pale and tired looking. Over the top of his blue jacket, he wore a woollen coat of Albie’s, and Bess smiled sadly as she ran her hand over the lapels.

“Thanks, love.” She kissed his cheek. Behind her, Kasia was tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing her clothes.

“Alright, Kasia?” Tom nodded at her and held out one of the paper bundles. As it passed Bess, she caught the delicious whiff of vinegar. Fish and chips.

“Yes, thank you.” Kasia smiled and took the food from him.

“Bess.” Tom handed his girlfriend her portion before turning back to Kasia and clearing his throat. “How are your brothers?” Bess saw him puff out his chest, an attempt at nonchalance. His eyes were worried though, downcast, as he tucked into his chips.

“They’re well, thank you. Jan is missing his play friend though.”

Tom smiled. “Well, anytime he wants to play footie just let us know.” He faltered and Bess held on gently to the sleeve of Albie’s coat, to remind him she was there. “And Grzegorz?”

“He’s managing. Vernon and Roger got him a job at the RAF base.”

“Was a good man, Vernon.” Tom said, and the three fell into a solemn silence, punctuated by the call of gulls and rustling of newspaper.

When they had each finished their food, Kasia collected the scraps and bid goodbye to Bess with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Stay a while longer, there’s no need to leave ‘cause of Tom.”

“That’s alright,” Kasia smiled at Tom, who looked a little stung. “It’s a lovely evening. You two enjoy your walk.”

Not leaving Bess to reply, Kasia left for the promenade. Tom made for the other direction, towards the sea. Bess watched Kasia go before trotting after Tom. His hands were tucked into his pockets and she looped her arm through his. He let go, instead bringing his arm about her shoulders so that she was tucked into his side.

He smelled of cigarettes and that laundry detergent that always reminded Bess of Douglas. There was something of Albie too that lingered on the coat. That cheap cologne he used to wear when they went out dancing. Bess chuckled and Tom looked down at her.

“Thinking of Albie,” she said simply. “And your dad.”

“Mmm,” Tom pushed Bess near the waves as they approached the water and she shrieked. He laughed and grabbed her around the waist. “Had to do it. ‘S what Albie would have done if he was here.”

“Yeah. Remember all the family trips we used to have down here when mam and dad wanted to wear us down?”

Tom rested his head atop Bess’ and they watched the water turn orange as the sun lowered behind them. They didn’t talk awhile, content in each other’s company and thinking of the past, but something in Tom silence told Bess he wasn’t happy. He was almost rigid behind her, his usual relaxed swagger gone. Tentatively, she inquired about the afternoon.

“How’s Lois?”

Tom almost jumped at her voice. “Fine, yeah, fine. Was rescuing some old man’s teeth when the house came down.”

“Douglas’ll never be gone.”

“That’s what I said.” He said nothing else.

Bess turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Where are you, mister?” She ran a hand through his hair. It needed a cut before he went back, surely it was too long for navy regulations now.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you thinking about?” He finally took his eyes off the ocean and looked down at her. Bess shivered. His eyes were stony and distant. The wind ruffled his hair and for a moment he looked like Gary Cooper or Spencer Tracy. “You’re so handsome.”

Tom ignored her. “’I’d like to think Tom’s changed.’”

Bess’ cheeks prickled with embarrassment. “Pardon?”

“’I’d like to think Tom’s changed, but I know he’d swap with Harry just to wind up Mrs Chase.’” He quoted again.

“We were only mucking around-”

“I know you said you and Kasia would have a giggle at me an’ Harry’s expense,” Tom was looking back at the water and not Bess. “But I thought at least you’d have a higher opinion of me.”

Bess’ lip trembled and she ran her hand through Tom’s hair again. “You know I think the world of you-”

“I saw the way you looked at me last night. The way your father looked at me. You all still think I’m exactly the same as before, don’t you? Just a petty criminal with nothing to give.”

“Where the hell has this come from?” Bess sadness was making way for anger now.

“Bess, I’ve come back to find my dad dead, my home gone and what do I get? Bloody,” he waved his hands angrily, struggling for the word. “judgement and dirty looks.”

“No-one’s judging you-”

“’I’d like to think Tom’s changed’,” Tom began to quote Bess once more but she cut him off.

“Well, I’d like to think you have changed but your behaviour last night proves my point. Getting drunk, fighting, staying at Queenie’s-”

“Jesus Christ. NOTHING HAPPENED!”

They stared at each other.

“Why do we keep arguing?” Bess said sadly.

Tom kicked a shell and made his slow way along the tide line. “I don’t know,” he sighed, rubbing his face.

Walking beside him, Bess thought that, in truth, she did know. They were opposites. Where her grief was quiet and slow-burning, Tom’s was sudden and raging and, as it shrouded them both, neither knew how to help the other.

“Did you and Lois chat much about your dad?” She didn’t know what else to say, and maybe talking of Douglas would ease Tom’s grief.

“Not really.” Never mind.

“Please Tom,” Bess clutched his arm stopped him in his tracks. “You can’t just shut down and never talk about it.”

“It’s what you would do.”

She stared at him. Fine. If he wanted to be difficult, she could do it too. “You’re not the only one who misses him, Tom. He was my friend-”

“He was my dad!” Tom bellowed. “I suppose you wouldn’t have minded a swap with him either. Harry, my dad, anyone’s better than me-”

“Oh stop being so fucking put down upon. You’re using this as some stupid excuse not to confront your grief. The war. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, fine, I can’t know what it’s like out there. But I’ve lost people too, and, and-” Bess stomped her foot like a child. “And I love you. I want to help.”

“How could you possibly help?” Tom sounded resigned rather than angry, but nonetheless, it felt as though he had struck her.

“I-I-I’m trying to do my bit, for you. For the war effo-”

“Patching up cuts and scratches? Fixing holes in soldiers’ socks?”

“I was under the impression,” Bess snapped and wiped a tear from her face. “That that is exactly what you think I should be doing.”

Tom shook his head. Actually shook his head in confusion. “What the hell do you mean, woman?”

“Woman! Exactly! Heard all about your argument with Lois,”

“Fucking Dot-”

“Yes. Dot. Connie told her that you blamed her for your dad’s death-”

“I apologised-”

“-that her job was being at home looking after him and the baby. Is that what you think? That that’s all we’re good for?” “This is all you’re good for, Bess Vaughn.” “You know that’s what Walter Watson said to me? That night? Do you agree with him?”

“No-” Tom took a step forward but Bess stepped back.

“Well?”

“WELL WHAT?”

Bess held her stomach. Tom didn’t notice. “Do you think our role s just that? Give you children and then while away our lives at home, mothering you all?”

“It’d be a damn sight more peaceful than whatever the fuck this is!”

Neither of them was listening to the other, just shouting over the top of whatever they had said last.

“Cos you know, you’ve barely said one word to me that isn’t “bend over” or “come here” since you got back-”

“Now I know why no-one would come near you-”

Bess stopped shouting. So did Tom.

“Fuck you.” Bess turned on her heel and marched towards the promenade.

“Where are you going?” With his long legs, it was easy for Tom to catch up, even if he was so tired.

“Home.” Tom still walked beside her and she found his very presence so close angered her. “Go away.”

“Unfortunately for you, love, we live in the same place.”

They walked in stony silence towards the run-down bus stop, Tom a few steps behind to give Bess space. They perched at opposite ends of the bench and, when the bus arrived, were dismayed to see it full. Squeezed together on the leather seats as the bus rattled back to Manchester, Bess stared out of the window. Tom did too, glancing down occasionally to look at her. The exposed line of her neck. Her lips set into an angry pout. The place at which their shoulders touched burned and he wanted nothing more than to be even closer to her. He leant his head down, and light as baby’s breath, kissed her below her ear.

The skin of Bess’ neck rippled with goosebumps and Tom smiled a satisfied smile. When she turned her head to him, she didn’t meet his eyes, nor speak. She simply brushed her nose against his cheek, her lips grazing the morning’s stubble, and turned back to the window. It was as if to say, I’m still angry at you, but I love you, and at that very moment in time, that was enough for Tom.

The sun had set by the time the bus rumbled into Manchester. Air-raid wardens were already out on shift, their small torches replacing the streetlamps that would give the city away to enemy airplanes.

Bess made in the direction of Carver Mills when she stepped off the bus, but faltered when she realised Tom wasn’t beside her. Instead, he was stood at the bus stop, hands in his pockets.

“Gonna check on Lois. And the baby,” he said, answering her questioning gaze.

“And then?” Bess didn’t need to elaborate. They both knew she was alluding to his new found homelessness. Tom shrugged. “Dadda will still have you. You’re a bloody pair, the both of you, but he won’t have you on the street. And if,” she took a step closer and pulled Tom’s coat lapels around his neck to keep him warm. “-if Dadda won’t have you, I suppose I’ll have to.” She stretched up to peck his lips.

“Yes, captain.”

BANG

Bess shot up in bed and flicked on the lamp. A pair of study nurse’s shoes were forever positioned by her bed, and a jumper and coat were slung over the bedframe in case of this very moment. The bombs.

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry.” Tom was stumbling through Bess’ bedroom window, his back leg caught on the frame. “Forgot about the blackouts.” He hastily replaced them in the window with a lopsided grin. No sooner were they in place was he peeling off his jumper and slacks.

Bess rubbed her eyes. Despite her sleep-filled haze and her lingering annoyance at the man before her, she could still appreciate the lean muscle of his pale torso that had only strengthened in his days in the navy. A light sheen of sweat clung to his smattering of chest hair, and his breath was laboured.

“Did you-” Bess budged up in the bed so that he could climb in beside her. “Did you climb up the building?”

“Why so shocked-” Tom nestled beside her.

“Your feet are freezing,”

“Used to climb through your bedroom window all the time,”

“Yes, but it wasn’t on the fifth floor.”

“Ah,” Tom said nonchalantly, leaning back against the bedframe. “Anything for you love, and a place to lay my head.”

Bess hmphed but curled her body against Tom’s. One large hand came to her waist and rubbed lazy circles there. It was a while before either of them spoke. It was in these moments over the last year that both Bess and Tom had learnt to enjoy their simplicity. Tom may not return from his next posting. A bomb could land on the roof at any moment. To lay there, with someone you loved so completely, really was the simplest and most divine miracle.

“’M off to the docks tomorrow,” Tom whispered into Bess’ hair. “To collect my papers.”

“So soon?” Bess pushed herself to sit and face him, her voice wobbling as it betrayed her worry.

“I can’t stay,” Tom pulled her back to his chest. “As much as I want hide here with you. You said it earlier, I need to stop running from everyone. From everything.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. From her bedside table, Bess pulled a packet of cigarettes and lit one, placing it between Tom’s lips when she’d taken her first drag. Tom winked at her. “’S like sitting on the front step again.” He paused. “No. I think the only way for me to work out what I’m doing, who I am, is to get back out there. The open sea, the purpose. You an’ dad were right. The navy is the making of me.”

“Take me with you,” Bess gripped his small waist all the tighter and buried her face in his chest.

“No chance. Not letting you loose with a load of sailors.”

“I can look after myself-”

“Exactly. It’s them I worry about.” Tom pinched Bess’ plump hips and she squealed. The sound, so unlike any Bess would ever usually make delighted Tom, and he did it again, tickling every bare patch of skin he could reach until Bess was on her back, writhing to get away from him as he penned her in with his arms.

She was panting when he finished, and her giggles took a while to subside. Red blotched her cheeks and her dark eyes were bright with laughter. The mess of her hair was unrulier than ever, tangled on the pillow. Below his hips, her nightdress had ridden up her thighs, the curve of her breasts just visible through the thin fabric.

Tom shut his eyes, committing her image to memory. “I’m sorry about earlier. About everything,” he whispered.

“I know,” Bess ran a hand through his hair and he stooped to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” he kissed the juncture of her neck. “I’m sorry,” Nipped at the underside of her jaw. “I’m sorry,” his tongue ran languidly over her lips. A throaty moan left Bess and Tom lowered his hips between the spread of her legs. “I’m sorry,” he kissed his way over her chest. “I’m sorry,” lightly bit each pert nipple through the fabric.

“Tom, please-”

“I love you,” Tom kissed her stomach.

A jolt of fear gripped her. What if? “Tom, please-” It was said with hesitation then, but it died in her throat when his head dipped lower. Warm hands slid around the underside of her thighs and gripped her hips.

“I’m sorry,” his warm breath fanned across her core. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice muted as he brought his mouth to her centre. “I’m sorry.”

Notes: I’m sorry it’s been ages. Life, ya know? This will have a happy ending!!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @reblogedworks @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @adragonprinceswhore @notasockpuppetaccount @houseofdupree @marysucks-blog @chattylurker @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @nolongereviliwantlove @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring @fangirlninja67 @evita-shelby @cherievictoria @schmexie @ewanmitchellcrumbs @blairfox04 @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @cherievictore

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #ewan mitchell x reader #tom bennett x oc #tom bennett x ofc #world on fire #the seamstress & the sailor #assortedseaglass #sorry it's been ages

95 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

Text

A Promise Woven in Silk

18/12: Letters & Lingerie Kink - Tom Bennett Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: suggestive letters, masturbation (m), p in v sex A/N: thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for checking my Tom Bennett was cunty enough 🤭

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Tom couldn't wait to be off this fucking boat.

It was a sort of slum in motion, but with the threat of being killed or drowned.

He made his own fun, practically forcing people's hands into betting on the day his canary laid an egg, pissing off the commanding officer and choosing rather colourful language when he was speaking to people of a higher rank than him. Not like he gave a shit.

But he only did those things because he was Tom.

It didn't make him really happy.

The only thing that managed to pull a smile to his face were letters with her handwriting on the front.

It felt wrong to call her a sweetheart so to speak. After all, at first there was no expectation of anything deeper, not wanting to get involved in something so trivial before he decided to disappear abroad. But it was exactly that expectation that drew him to her.

She wasn't desperate and needy. And yes, he'd tease her for it, but she was so fiercely independent, she turned her nose up at how a woman should conventionally act towards someone she liked.

He loved her for that.

He leapt onto the top bunk, checking the room was clear before pulling the sealed letter from his pocket, the paper slightly crumpled with her swirly feminine handwriting decorating the front.

Dearest Tom,

I hope you are settling into navy life well and are not causing too much trouble for the people who have the displeasure of being around you all day and night.

He smirked. She knew him too well.

As I write this, my stomach flutters at the thought of your upcoming shore leave. I have been entirely too impatient to not tell you that I have concealed a great secret from you, one I should hope you will be pleased to uncover upon your return to me.

Picture me, with delicate lace trimming framing the curves of my body, meant for your eyes only of course. The fabric, as smooth as a moonlit ocean, holds promises of stolen moments where you are once again by my side.

I must confess, once you are back I scarcely think I could ever let you go again. The mere thought of you being here with me has a pleasant, exciting effect on my inhibitions. An effect, I dare say, you are keen to replicate.

I anticipate the shared warmth of our reunion, one I have no doubt you have sorely missed.

Yours in fervent longing…

He swore his mouth was agape, before a sly grin slipped onto his face.

Jesus Christ.

Tom's baby blues flitted over her handwriting, as if needing to commit the words to memory over and over to make certain he was reading the same thing.

His fingers gripped the delicate paper noticeably tighter as his mouth went dry.

Cheeky fucking minx.

Completely naturally, he brought the paper to his face, sighing longingly at the familiar scent of her perfume. She'd no doubt spritzed it a few times before sealing it, intent on torturing him even further as if the words alone had not done so.

Her scent flooded his mind, making way in his brain and pushing all the blood there south, his manhood pulsing almost uncomfortably at the memory of her.

The way he'd left her lingered there.

She had his white shirt around her shoulders and completely nothing else, her breasts peeking teasingly against the thin fabric as if to tempt him to stay when she knew he couldn't.

He'd almost jumped right back on her when she rose to her knees and plucked the post-coital cigarette from his lips to have a sweet, shallow drag of her own, her eyes aglimmer with mischief and sparkled with lust.

And he's not ashamed to say that the image of her lips around the cigarette had him wishing they were around him instead. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, massaging the length that would not fit in her perfect mouth.

And so here, miles and miles from her, but unable to think of anyone or anything but her, he slipped his hand into his trousers, keeping her letter close to his face and pumped himself needily, imagining it was her grinding her hips atop him, her moist lips parted with those sounds he loved so much slipping forth.

He spilled himself over his knuckles in no time with a choked moan that he had to keep quiet.

It was sweet, sweet torture.

“Cheeky. Fucking. Minx.”

Tom practically skipped through off the train onto the platform, resisting the urge to break into a run as he played the route to her flat in his mind and how to get there the fastest.

It felt like he'd had a perpetual need for her ever since he read her words, which was more akin to pornography than an innocent love letter, having the desired effect of keeping him rock hard, fists clenched and jaw tightened.

God, she'd pay for that.

His boots thumped as he made his way up the back stairs to her flat, fists rapping on the door rapidly and excitedly, his chest feeling all tight and fluttery.

Every second there was no answer, his leg bobbed with anticipation.

Tom's tongue poked his cheek as the door slowly cracked open, a smile working its way to his face.

Her hair was waved over her shoulders, a satin dressing gown around her and tied at the middle, accentuating her waist, with her legs all bare and poking tantalisingly out beneath the rich fabric.

She herself gave a smirk, pulling the cigarette from her lips with two of her manicured fingers.

“Hello, sailor.”

Fuck, her voice.

She squeaked in surprise as Tom's tall form had to twist to force his way in, his bag forgotten to the floor with a thud, finding better purchase on her body as he surged down to meet her lips halfway. She smelled and tasted just as he remembered.

Bodies touching and smirking between fervent kisses, he mumbles between them, “Hello, beautiful.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and equally sank to that spot between her thighs that grew moist, aided by the endless weeks without his presence.

“I can't believe you sent me such racy letters. You just want to get me in trouble, don't you... and believe me you're doing a fantastic job at it.”

She hummed, pulling away to look up at him, smirking as he plucked the cigarette from her to take a drag for himself.

“You've got to have something to look forward to on shore leave, Bennett.”

He grinned with all his perfect teeth, stubbing it out once he was done with it and running his tongue over his lips.

She scrunched her nose, her hands around his shoulders as she craned up to meet his misty gaze, “in any case, I don't know what you mean. My letters were perfectly well-meaning and innocent.”

He scoffed, the smoke leaving between his pink lips, blonde eyebrows raised, “innocent? Those letters could be classified as a war crime.”

Her lips part involuntarily, warmth gathering in her gut as his hands lay flat either side of her waist.

"Now, where's my promised prize? To celebrate my return.”

She bit back a grin, her hands sliding down his chest to the tie at her front, fingers pulling it loosely unbearably slowly.

Tom swore he ascended to heaven once the silk parted to reveal what she'd promised beneath, a delicate lacy number that seemed to drift over every curve and left very little to the imagination.

“Now that's what I call a greeting and my reward.”

His hands assisted in pushing the silk off her shoulders, leaving her standing in her silk sleepwear, the front dipping right where the shadow of her breasts appeared.

He grinned like a schoolboy, raking in every piece of her he'd been unable to see for weeks. God, maybe even months.

“You know, I almost thought you were lying in your letter and you didn't actually have this... but you surprised me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as they both leaned in, dragging his nose over her cheekbone and placing several kisses, too chaste for his nature, along her jawline.

“I couldn't possibly do that to you, Tom.”

She giggled girlishly as his hands were now unable to stop their journey around her body, squeezing and moulding the flesh to his palm as he guided her to her bed. He stood, looking down as she lay there waiting for him with that honey-like gaze, biting her lip when she saw him work on his own clothes.

Once he got to his belt, she lifted her hands to the straps of her brassiere, to pull them down, until Tom tutted at her, kneeing her legs apart in reprimand, earning a confused expression.

He loved it when she looked all dumb like that.

He smirked, “Maybe I want you to keep it on. You look good in it.”

At this she lowered her hands, eyes glimmering with mischief as she watched him struggle with his belt.

She smiled smugly, “have you gone soft on me, Tom Bennett?”

“Soft is the opposite of what I am right now, love.”

A soft giggle slides past her lips as Tom looms above her, shoving his trousers past his hips as they snag on nothing, his eyes hardening the more frustrated he gets. But it quickly dissipates, core clenching around nothing once he pulls himself from his underwear, hardly having to stroke himself to full attention.

His fingers creep along the side of her thigh beneath the delicate lace, swiping the pads of his fingers against her, grinning widely when he finds his words and actions have had the desired effect, her hips twitching upwards at his touch.

“Oh, love. You’re fucking soaked for me.”

His ministrations become rough almost instantly, tugging the silk to the side and running the fat head of his cock, red and weeping against her womanhood. She watches the way his chest inflates and deflates with heavy breathing, at how the dog tag there glimmering in the low light around his neck, looking down between them, the air feeling hot and only the sounds of pure carnal desire rumbling in their throats.

“Tom - please -”, she mewled longingly, trying to move her hips to gain friction as he teases her bud with the tip of his length.

A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest, “God I fucking love it when you beg. What do you think, should I make you do it again?”

She shakes her head quickly, closing her eyes and turning away with a warm face at the intensity of his gaze down at her.

He huffs another laugh and lays atop her, pushing her leg apart with his knee and pressing a kiss to her temple, “It’s alright, love, too fucking impatient for that.”

Her mouth falls open, warmth flooding her as he pushes into her agonisingly slowly, splitting her apart on his length to slide into her slick walls. Tom can’t help but screw his eyes shut, burying his face in her neck and inhaling her perfume as her warmth squeezes him and her fingernails leave crescent-moon shaped marks on his back.

He barely waits to reach the end of her before he moves, his hips meeting hers softly at first, but increasing in vigour once he hears her tiny little whimpers, and the way she presses her lips together to try and be quiet.

Ever stubborn.

Skin meets skin with quiet smacks, neither needing to say anything (except for the occasional ‘fuck’ encompassed by a low moan from Tom) but just basking in this closeness they’d been deprived of in all the time they’d been away. He is sure he could stay between her legs all fucking day, squeezing the flesh of her thighs and tasting her lips on his.

“Fuck - ‘m gonna-”, he moans lowly, his hand running up the nape of her neck and pulling the strands of her hair through his fingers, not enough to hurt. Her core tightens around him, head thrown back into the mattress, lips parted.

“oh - fuck, yes-”

With a choked moan, he takes her over the edge with him, holding her so tightly that had he been in his right mind, he’d think he was hurting her. But she doesn’t protest. She only loosens her grip on him when his thrusts falter to a stop, but his length remains tucked inside her, shuddering when he feels her core clenching around him in the aftermath of her peak.

His normal attitude clouded by the haziness sex, he rests on his forearms above her, giving an exhausted smile that she returns.

“That the greeting you were hoping for?” she asks, her breath coming in short, hot pants.

And just like that, the Tom Bennett grin returns, leaning down to capture her lips again, “Yes, but I’m not done with you yet.”

#tom bennett smut #tom bennett x you #tom bennett world on fire #tom bennett angst #tom bennett #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #tom bennett wof #tom bennett x oc #tom bennett x female reader #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fic #tom bennett fanfic #12 days of smuff #tom bennett imagine

400 notes · View notes