#tom make up fic
Text
Worth the Wait
Pairing: Tom Grant x f!bartender!Reader
Genre: smut
Tags:Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected piv (pulling out)
Summary: Your favourite customer has a confession to make, that he's very eager to. You wish you could believe him - if only he weren't drunk every time he saw you.
Word count:7.1k
A/N: God, this fic's been a long time in the making! I started writing it months ago, but then @choke-me-eddie wrote the phenomenal Jack Daniels and Coke and I gave myself massive imposter syndrome for ages lol, but one day I was going through my WIPs folder and something told me to start this up again. So, here it is!
PS: the amount of time i spent on making that gif look like he's getting himself off for more than like 4 frames before feckin roof gets in the way, as naturally as i could get it, is between me and god. 😂
“Hello again, gorgeous,” your favourite voice slurs from the other side of the bar.
You see big, warm brown eyes greet you along with the biggest grin you’ve seen all day and your heart melts, despite the pang of disappointment. “Hello yourself, sweetheart. Back to drown more of your troubles?”
“Can I not just come over to my favourite pub and chat to my favourite barmaid, with no ulterior motive?” he pouts, leaning an elbow on the bar so he can rest his chin on his fist, a trademark pose for Tom.
“Not when you’re already pretty wavy,” you point out with raised eyebrows, wafting the air in front of him. “I can smell the Fosters on you a mile off. Didn’t take you for a piss drinker.”
He pulls a face, “Weren’t my doing, honest. Some of the blokes at work decided to get together an’ have dinner somewhere, an’ they bought everyone a pint each without asking us. I had to sneak in a couple of shots to take the taste away and then they bought another, so I had to drink even more.”
“Your life is so hard, babe,” you pout patronisingly, and he sticks his tongue out at you in response. You pour him a glass of water and slide it over to him. “Here. On the house, and that’s a deal only my favourite customers get.”
He looks at you disbelievingly. “As if water isn’t free for everybody, good one.” You smile back at him with just as much snark as he’s giving you as he drinks it all down in one go, and you take the excuse to watch his throat bob while he’s distracted.
You’ve always had a soft spot for Tom. Ever since the poor sod ended up at your pub following the break-up between him and his childhood sweetheart. You’d heard it all about Ruth, and her new friend Jade, and all of the accusations Ruth would make against Tom just to turn around and do the very same to him with Jade. The last time he visited became a real turning point, when he’d gotten especially drunk and admitted to you that he’d been questioning his attraction to her, himself.
“I don’t even know what it was that turned me off, you know. Or maybe it was never even there.”
“Well, is she your type? What kind of person are you usually into?”
“Pretty girls. Like you,” he drawled, resting his chin on his fist.
“Nice try, Mr Grant. I’d believe you if you weren’t so wasted,” you smirked.
“Ooh, Mr Grant, so formal. How’d you know that, anyway?”
“Your last name? Let’s see, your ID, your bank card… ’S not that difficult to find out.”
“Yeah, but you remembered it. I think you fancy me, too,” he grinned smugly.
“Too bad you’ll never know,” you shook your head, and he pouted at you.
“Not even gonna tell me? Tease.”
“Even if I did, there’s no way you’d remember in the morning, so there’s no point, is there?” you shrugged.
“Bet I would. I’d never forget something if it were about you,” he simpered.
You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach and managed to keep your composure as you replied, “Alright, then, if you still feel the same way about me, but stone cold sober, I’ll give you my number. But only then.”
Tom had wanted to stay true to his promise so badly. He’d wanted nothing more than to just sit and watch you work and flirt relentlessly with you. No liquid courage needed. But of course it was Barry’s birthday, and Barry wanted all the lads together for dinner. Tom had felt honoured to finally be included as one of the lads, but it came at a price. A price that he felt too tipsy to then go back to his caravan, all alone with his thoughts. Only one person usually made him feel better in this state. And he’d promised you a sober confession. Yet here he was, giving you the exact opposite.
“Can I ’ave another one?” he asks, holding the glass out to you.
You kiss your teeth and shake your head, lightly lilting, “Alright, but soon enough, I am gonna have to start charging you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Water don’t cost nothing, though. We already established that, remember?” Still in his hand, he taps the empty glass against his head as you take out a fresh one for him.
“So, maybe I’ll have to think of other ways to have you pay for my efforts,” you smirk, putting the water down and resting your hands on your edge of the bar, shifting your weight onto your wrists.
“Oh, yeah?” Tom leans forward, intrigued, a coy smile playing on his lips. “What’s that, then?”
You wrinkle your nose, "Depends what you've got to offer."
"Just. This," Tom states as he steps back and gestures at himself with both hands, the slur that’s still present in his voice betraying him.
You sigh. "Remember the rule, Tommy boy," you waggle your eyebrows at him, and he groans.
"Yeah. I know,” he pouts as he grabs the glass with a frustrated force and starts chugging again.
You look at him with hopeful eyes. “There’s always next time, eh.”
~~~
“So, let me get this straight,” your best friend stops you, looking up in disbelief at the location you’d chosen. “You decided to get us all to meet up for drinks, for your birthday, and we could have gone anywhere. And you choose your work?!”
“Well, yeah, I’m not allowed to use my staff discount while I’m on shift, obviously, so why not take advantage of it on my big day, eh?!” You grin.
She rolls her eyes, “You’re a menace.”
“Yeah, but you put up with me,” you rest your chin on her shoulder, still beaming from ear to ear as you both stumble into the pub together.
“Ooh, Tommy the Tank Engine at 2 o’clock,” your best friend giggles, pointing over at a group of men that, sure enough, includes Tom himself.
“Don’t point, dickhead!” You hush, grabbing her hand and shoving it back to her side. “Oh, bless him, look at him. Now, listen, you cannot let me get so drunk that I make a tit of myself in front of him, okay? I’ve got a - you know, a -” You wave your hand around in front of you, trying to think of a word. “Not quite reputation, but you know what I mean. A thing we’ve got.”
“I don’t think that I do,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Unless you mean, like… Because you’ve told him you’ll only believe him if he’s sober, you don’t wanna flirt with him while you’re drunk.”
“You get me,” you smile wistfully as you lean against her, cuddling up to her.
Giggling again, she shoves you away. “Gerroff, unless you really wanna give him the wrong impression! Besides, I say go for it, anyway. Ride that train,” she mimics pulling a steam train whistle and you scold her as you shove her towards the bar.
You meet up with the rest of your friends and have a shot with them. One of your regulars wishes you a happy birthday and buys you another. One of your coworkers gives you another one on the house.
You’ve totally forgotten who else was even here, until after your best friend insists on buying you your favourite cocktail, and as you shuffle between other people waiting at the bar to let others get out, you feel your back collide with the solid weight of someone else’s chest, followed by an all-too-familiar, “Easy, tiger!”
You take a deep breath in and look at your best friend in bewilderment before steeling yourself and pivoting to look at Tom, “Oh my god, hi! I’m so sorry!”
“’S alright. Someone’s having a good night, aren’t they?” He smiles down at you.
“It’s her birthday, you know!” Your best friend shouts over at him, and he gives a thoughtful frown back, raising his eyebrows at her.
“I did not know that, as a matter of fact! S’pose I better do my rightful duty and get the birthday girl a drink, too, shouldn’t I?”
“Trying to get me drunk, now, are ya? I see your game, Mr Grant,” you tease, earning a sly grin from him and a side-eye from your best friend.
“Fair’s fair, you’ve seen me plastered enough times,” he waggles his eyebrows at you. “What’s your poison, ladies?”
Tom buys both yours and your best friend’s drinks for you, and orders something for himself while your friend sneaks away to leave you both to it, though you don’t realise it. You frown when you see Tom pick up a full pint glass of Coke and point at it. “Big glass for a mixed drink.”
“Yeah. Almost as though it isn’t,” he smirks, moving his glass to chime it against yours. “Happy birthday, love.”
Though your heart sinks at the idea that he really did try to keep to his word tonight, you decide to keep up the playful rapport the two of you know so well. Punctuating your first three words each with a poke to the middle of his chest, you grin slyly, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to see me drunk, for once.”
Running two of his fingers alternately up your shoulder at his first three words, he mimics your tone, “I think you are just looking for an excuse to touch me.” He rests his wrist on your shoulder, and the fingertips that ghost the skin on your back send shivers all through you.
“Says the man who’s keeping his arm there,” you reply with a smug lipped smile, and he shrugs, that fake frown making another appearance on his face.
“Alright, I guess if you don’t want it,” he slides his arm away from you tantalisingly slowly, his eyes locked onto yours the whole time. You whimper involuntarily, your voice betraying you, when his fingertips are the only thing dragging against you. With a proud chuckle, he rests the heel of his hand back on your shoulder again, his fingertips leaving goosebumps where they ghost against the skin left exposed from the strap of your dress. “You should really get back to your friends now.”
“Not without you,” you pull a face at him, “not after all this! You bought the two of us a drink, remember, you can’t just leave us now!”
He smiles in quiet pride. “What would I tell all my mates, eh? That I’m abandoning them?”
“They can come over, too!” you counter. “My friends won’t mind, they’d love extra company.”
“Why, do you plan on being distracted all night?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you again.
“Where’s this Tom been hiding then, anyway, eh?” you buffer his question with your own. “How come I don’t see this version of you when I’m sober? Am I that intimidating?”
“Ooh, yeah, dead scary,” Tom answers sarcastically, shaking his head and furrowing his brow, but he laughs when you waggle your fingers in a jokingly haunting manner.
“Will you at least drink with me, so I’m not the only one making an arse of myself?” you pout, trying to give him your best doe eyes.
“But then who will be here to document all your arse-ry?” Tom starts, but you interrupt.
“That’s not a word!”
“Piss off, drunky, how do you know?” he teases, laughing at your offended gasp. “No, if you’re gonna make a scene, I wanna make sure my head is crystal clear so I can lord it over you for the rest of time. As it is, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of material to embarrass me with tonight,” he flashes his eyes at you as you approach his friend group, waving your own over.
You all eventually commandeer your own corner of the pub, you and Tom sat on one of the old leather sofas as the other is crammed with a mix of both his friends and yours, as well as others being peppered around on regular dining chairs. After asking around, and others insisting that they’re fine where they are, thereby refusing your invitation to join you and Tom on the sofa, your legs start to ache. Not being able to find enough floor space to stretch them out adequately, you simply decide to drape them across Tom’s lap, which he takes to naturally.
He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that they’re there at first, which has your mind turning over and over, until he starts gently, absent-mindedly stroking his fingertips up and down your leg. The tingles that shot through you at his touch earlier return again. He notices your longing stare in his direction and, without moving his head, glances over at you, winks, then looks back at the person he's talking to. The sensation that causes goes straight to your core.
“Whose round is it then?” one of your friends asks, standing just next to the sofa you’re sat on.
Leaning back, you wave her over so that she bends down to you, pulling her head down as close as it’ll get to your face before whispering in her ear, “Could you actually just get me a Coke? Nothing in it?” She nods and you grin at her as she stands tall again. “Oh!” You fish your staff ID out of your bag and hand it over to her. “Don’t forget to use that, don’t go paying full price here if you can help it!”
“Not exactly a great advertisement for this place, are you?” One of Tom’s friends asks amusedly before declaring he’ll buy the drinks in, and you watch as him and your friend go to the bar with the intent to order them - though even once they’re out of your earshot, you still notice that they seem to be distracting themselves.
Tom finally finishes his other conversation and nudges you to ask in an intrigued voice, “What were you two whispering about earlier, then?”
“And why’s that any of your business?” You ask back with a sly smile.
He shrugs, “Dunno, might have been about me.”
"If I was gonna talk about you, I'd say it to you," you grin, leaning to rest your head on the back cushion of the sofa.
"Yeah?" he asks with raised eyebrows. “In front of everyone?”
You shrug, “Depends. You got anything you want to tell me in front of everyone?”
He beckons you close with two fingers - a gesture you try desperately not to fixate on - and leans in close to your ear, cups his hand around it and whispers, "I proper fancy you."
"Yeah, and water's wet," you lean around to raise your eyebrows back at him, giggling as he frowns at you. “Glad to hear it from this version of you, though.”
He can't keep his frowning up for long, though, his own eyebrows soon waggling with anticipation. "Alright, so, c’mon, then. You got anything to say to me?”
You lean in with the intention to whisper back in his ear, but you get distracted by your friend handing you your drink, along with a very knowing look. “You two need a room?” They ask with a smirk.
“Like you two weren’t locking lips over at the bar?” You tease back, flashing your eyes over to Tom’s friend briefly. Laughing it off with you, your friend joins her new companion for the night as you settle yourself in next to Tom.
“Big glass for a mixed drink,” he repeats what you’d said to him earlier with a smug look on his face.
Knowing what he’s doing, you grin back, “Almost as if it isn’t.” Leaning across to grab his own glass again from the table, he clinks it against yours for the second time this evening and takes a big swig, his eyes never leaving yours.
When the pub finally closes, you, Tom, and those of your friends that haven’t already dispersed for the night, decide to make for the first fast-food place you see. One of Tom’s friends even takes advantage of Tom insisting on buying you a burger by holding his lighter on top of it while everyone sings Happy Birthday to you. You spend the last few minutes of your birthday surrounded by friends, old and new, singing and laughing and falling against Tom’s arm while he feeds you fries. Sure, you could have gotten even more drunk, found some other club that was open and danced the night away - but something about this just feels nicer.
Everyone’s figuring out their taxi situations when Tom turns to you. “What about you, which cab are you taking?”
“Neither,” you shake your head, scrunching your face up. He looks at you quizzically, and you hold your hand out in front of you to gesture down the road, moving it around a couple of times to gesture your route home. “Walking distance.”
Just as Tom's about to reply, he's interrupted by his friends yelling at him to get in their cab. He looks over at them and turns his nose up. "Nah, think I'm gonna stick with this one, not sure how much I trust these streets. I'll get my own later, it's fine." You don't hear exactly what his mates say, but the general tone of their collective jeering and grabbing Tom's arm as he bats them away and tells them, “Alright, gerroff!” tells you everything.
They chorus one more happy birthday! to you before Tom shuts the car door on them. You shout back that you'll treat them to a round next time they come into the pub and you can hear their cheers even when the door is shut, which makes you laugh. The pair of you wave both taxis off as they drive away, and you and Tom naturally link arms as you start walking back to your place.
"How you feeling?" he asks.
"Pretty damn good. You keep some decent company," you smile at him.
"What, that gaggle of idiots? Yeah, they're not so bad," he laughs softly. "Good birthday, d'you reckon?"
"Best so far," your smile widens as you hug his arm, leaning your head against it. He rests his head on top of yours, reaching over with his free hand to rub where your two meet around his bicep.
The pair of you make little pockets of small talk in the short walk to your house until you stop in front of it. Tom whistles as he looks it up and down. "What's your pay like at that pub? I'll have to start working there."
You laugh, "Calm down, I just rent out the top floor." You sigh happily. "Come see it, if you like."
"Ooh, inviting me in, eh? So late at night? Whatever will the neighbours say?" Tom teases, making you laugh.
"Oh, shut it," you smirk, shaking your head.
"Well, you are sending me mixed signals, here," Tom widens his face and crosses his arms. "See, I've wore my heart on my sleeve. I've told you what I think of you, many a time, in fact. And yet here you go, stringing a poor boy on, leaving him without a clue how you feel," he rocks himself from side to side, his movements and tone getting more and more extravagant as he keeps talking.
You swat at him playfully, "Shut up, or else you really will wake up the neighbours!" You step closer to him and beckon him closer. As he leans in, you move round to cup your hands over his ear and whisper, "I proper fancy you, too."
“Oh, yeah?” He murmurs seductively, reaching over to stroke his hands up and down your arms. “An’ how can I be so sure of that, drunky?”
“Piss off, I’m sober now,” you make the weakest attempt at shoving his chest, your palms flat against it, but it does nothing to his gait, only making him laugh under his breath. Instead, your hands grab the shirt beneath them as you grin, “C’mere,” and pull him in for a kiss. It’s filled with all the passionate relief of finally getting to do something you’ve both wanted for so long, and it only ramps up the longer you kiss for.
You hum in questioning, breaking away for a second to jerk your head towards your door, and he chuckles between even more kisses as he cradles your face, constantly pulling you back in for more. “Trying to get me inside, are you?”
With a sly smile, you pull back. “Well, if you don’t want to -” You swivel to face the door itself, digging your keys out of your bag, but Tom’s back on you in a flash. His body presses into your form as his hands slide back around your body, down to squeeze your hips, back up to wrap around your breasts, all while he kisses your neck.
You melt into his touch, leaning back to press yourself against him. You allow your hips to sway back and forth, grinding your ass against what is almost certainly a bulge straining against the denim. He hums against your neck, “Don’t even wanna wait ’til we get in? Dirty girl,” he accompanies his last remark by leaning back just enough to reach down and lightly spank your ass cheek, making you gasp audibly. Stepping forward to close the gap again, he nuzzles your ear as he purrs, “Oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?”
You whine in agreement and he continues nuzzling his nose down past your jaw, ghosting his lips against the sensitive flesh of your neck once again. You hum out a soft moan as you finally wrestle your key into the lock. The pair of you practically fall over each other to get through the door, but you're quick to pin him against it as soon as it shuts, kissing him desperately.
He moans into your mouth, "Oh, fuck, someone's eager, aren't you? Wanna just take me right here and now, huh?" You laugh against his lips as you keep kissing him. He hums back, "Let's see how much you want me, yeah?" as his hand ghosts beneath the skirt of your dress, sliding up your inner thigh to press against your core through your panties.
You whimper into the kiss and he drawls, "Fuck me, you're so wet, already. Thinking about this on the walk here, were you?" He slides a finger up and down the fabric of your underwear as he mutters into the inch of space between your lips. "Or while we were at the pub?" He asks as he presses against your covered clit. You grab at his shirt, where you'd already made a mess of it, and he whispers smugly, "Or have you secretly spent your whole birthday hoping it'd end with this?'
You cry out again, finally finding your voice, "God, please, Tom… Want more.” You look at him with pleading eyes and he chuckles back.
"Mmm, now there's a face that I've been dreaming about. But you were the one to pin me to the door here, so I think I should get to enjoy kissing you a little bit longer, at least," he mutters as he leans back in to resume his embrace.
"Tease," you accuse against him, and he laughs again.
"'M not teasing at all, sweetness, just been waiting so long for this, I wanna take my time an– Yeah, I'm totally teasing you," he grins as he cranes his head to kiss your neck again. You whine in protest, and he deftly moves your panties aside to slide one long middle finger inside of you. “Go on, then, just one, for now. Seeing as it is your birthday, an’ all,” he grins wickedly, but he soon melts against you as you squirm and moan around him. As his posture relaxes, you move your hands onto his shoulders and start pushing, which he points out with an amused, “You try’na tell me something there?”
“I mean, seeing as it is my birthday…” You counter, lilting with an obviously fake nonchalance.
Tom grins as he sinks himself lower. “Yeah, I’ll get on my knees for you, love.” Once he’s knelt at your feet, he feels his way up your thighs, past your dress until his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He looks up at you pleadingly with a soft noise of questioning, soon beaming once you nod in affirmation as he pulls them down to your ankles. He sighs dreamily as he looks up at you. “Fuck, babe, look at you,” he breathes out. “Could just stare at you for hours.” You pout at him, and he responds with a cheeky, “Yeah, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just -” He sits back on his heels with a small, smug smile, “sit right back here and watch as - oh, someone’s twitchy, aren’t they?” He asks with soft intrigue, cocking his head to the side as he leans in closer between your legs.
“Tom, please…” You plead. “Enough teasing, now.”
“Yeah? Alright, then,” he sits up to bury his face into you, his tongue lapping away at the edges of your folds. “Mmm, y’taste so good, babe. So much better’n I imagined. C’mere,” he wraps his arms around your thighs as he carries on eating you out. He starts off so carefully, sweet little kitten licks to your clit and long, slow, drawn out ministrations through your core, but he takes the hint when you whine out in frustration, grab his hair and push his head further in.
He starts fucking you with his tongue, making you cry out in ecstasy, especially when he reaches up to rub at your clit in quick circles. You keel over and perch yourself on the door when he switches up to suck on your clit while sinking two fingers into you and curving them. He keeps mumbling into your skin, words you wish you could hear were it not for the blood pumping in your ears, but it seems as though Tom only intends for his compliments to be heard only between him and your cunt.
He finally pulls away, breathing heavily, and pushes himself up to stand, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. He moans as he presses his body against yours, as though the thought of making you taste yourself is turning him on all the more. “Wanna fuck you,” he pants as he presses his forehead to yours. “Please, I wan- need to be inside you, like, now.”
“Not so cocky, now, are you, babe?” you smirk, and he laughs.
“No, miss, just one taste and I’m already wrapped ’round your finger,” he jokes.
You jerk your head behind you, “Think you can wait ’til we get up them stairs?”
Tom steps aside and gestures towards them with an, “After you.”
You laugh as you first kick away the underwear still sitting on your ankles before taking your shoes off, prompting Tom to do the same. He stays behind you as you run up the flight of stairs leading into your living area, though not without another soft smack to your ass as he follows it.
Once you’re back on flat ground, you hold your hand out for him to take, walking backwards as you pull him towards your bedroom, even while the pair of you lock lips once again. You scramble to get his shirt off before you’ve even reached your bedroom door, though every attempt to lean back and admire him is scuppered by him leaning in to keep kissing you, until you practically fall through the doorway.
You guide him over to your bed and push him down onto it. His hands explore your body as you stand between his legs, before sliding up your thighs and pushing your dress up over your ass. His hands grip your cheeks roughly as he pulls you closer, craning his neck around to look at it as he plays with it, gently slapping each one alternately as it jiggles and loving the sights and sounds of it. "Fuck, angel, want you so bad," he groans before looking up at you pleadingly. "D'you want me, too?"
Caressing his face gently, you beam, "Get the rest of those clothes off and shuffle back on the bed, and I'll show you." Tom scrambles backwards, wriggling himself free of his jeans and boxers as he does, until he's laying back on your pillows, clothes discarded on your bedroom floor. You slowly strip yourself of your own clothes, too, opting to shimmy your dress down past your hips, really putting on a show for him as you push it over your bare ass, before unclipping your bra, holding it high and dropping it down onto the floor.
You stop for a moment to just enjoy the sight of him, your favourite customer, laying on your bed, biting his lip as he jerks off to the sight of you right in front of you. You whimper as you fall to rest one knee on your mattress, rubbing at your own clit as you watch him, the tip of his cock peeking out through his foreskin with every tug, tantalising you. He looks just a little bigger and just a little wider than you're used to, and you feel your pussy drench beneath you at the thought of him filling you up. "You gonna keep that gorgeous body of yours that far away from me for long, sweetness?" Tom pouts, and you hurriedly climb him like a tree. You go to kiss him once you've straddled him, but he jokingly turns his head aside. “No, no, if you’d rather stay away from me, don’t let me stop you,” he jokes, and you consider playing him at his own game, but you realise the quickest way to get what you want.
Pouting, you lean yourself down onto him, especially making sure you squeeze your breasts against his chest, and croon, “Oh, please, Tom, I need you so bad. ’M sorry I got so distracted by what a pretty cock you’ve got, please let me ride it, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”
Tom slowly turns his head back to look at you, a proud smirk on his face as he lifts his head to place a hand behind it. “Go on, keep begging, that’s my girl,” he drawls, lightly tracing your back with the fingertips of his free hand.
Feeling your heart soar and cunt throb at the sentiment, you whine, grinding your hips against his, "God, Tom… Want you to fuck me so bad, been dreaming about it f'too long, need to feel it now, please? Just for tonight?"
Tom wrinkles his nose. "Dunno about that…" And for a fleeting second, you're filled with a disappointed doubt that he's changed his mind, until he grabs at you and, with a mischievous grin, throws you off to the side, wrestling your giggling self until you're the one laying beneath him. He perches himself on his elbows to hover above you, and playfully and tenderly strokes all around your face before purring happily between kisses, "'M definitely gonna fuck you tonight… But I'm also gonna fuck you in the morning… And again, a little bit after that… And again, after that… Sound good so far?"
You hum happily, "Sounds perfect. But, please can I have your cock inside of me, now? Have I earned it yet?"
"Aww, gonna milk it, pretty girl?" He coos, reaching down to guide his tip between your folds. "Gonna take it all in that tight little pussy of yours, yeah? Gonna be good f'me?" You nod, whining desperately as you feel him starting to push into you. "Oh my god," he whimpers as he enters you, kissing you passionately as he fills you. Your hips start to buck down instinctively as he moves, and he tuts, "Fussy girl can't wait?"
You pout your lower lip out, "'M not fussy."
He does the same expression back to you sarcastically. "You're not?" He asks mockingly as he slowly starts pulling out. You grab his shoulders in protest, and that wicked smile of his comes back. "Fuck me, you are dirty, aren't you?" You nod in defeat, and he presses another kiss to your lips. "Good," he beams before sinking himself back into you, filling you up.
Your fingers dig into the supple flesh just above his shoulder blades as your legs wrap around his hips. "Oh, fuck, Tom… So much… Better…"
"Better, eh? So you'd think about me, too? While I spent - mmm - my nights getting off to the - fuck - thought of you, you were - shit - doing the same?" You nod, whining in agreement, and he moans as his thrusts get more frantic. "Fuck, I've wanted you - needed you - for so long, now… Never letting you go, never gonna stop - ah, shit, yes," he groans.
You pout at him, "Not even at least long enough for me to get on all fours?"
He looks at you as though all of his Christmases have come at once. "You want that?"
You nod, biting your lip. "And, since you love it so much, you can pull out and cum on my ass, if you want."
Add all his birthdays at once as well, based on his reaction. "Always knew you were the perfect woman, holy shit," he mutters in awe as he pulls out of you. You turn yourself around to get on your hands and knees, arching your back to present yourself to him, and he grabs at your ass to admire the sight in front of him, and he growls under his breath. A guttural, feral sound that has you clenching around nothing. “Been thinking about this much, then?”
“Oh, only pretty much every time I’m closing up the bar,” you chirp in reply. “Why’d you think I’ve been asking for you to stay sober for a night?”
“Fuck, if this is what one night gets me, I’m going teetotal,” he sighs wistfully, making you giggle.
“What was that line you gave me earlier about keeping that body away from me?” You tease, biting your lip as you anticipate the inevitable spank to your ass cheek with glee.
“Cheeky,” he smirks back as he admires how your skin ripples under his touch, "not so fun when it's the other way around, is it?"
"Does that mean you're gonna beg for me now, then?" You ask hopefully.
Tom pushes your back down enough for him to lean over you entirely to be within whisper distance of your ear. You feel his cock pressing into the crack of your ass as he whimpers, "Oh, please, miss, let me fuck you into oblivion. 'M such a good boy f'you, been waiting all this time to show you, been thinking about this all along. Please give me what I want."
"Yeah?" You moan against your pillow. "Tell me as you're filling me up again."
You feel him start to line his cock up with your pussy from behind as he admits, "Think about the day you'd finally tell me to hang back. I'd sit you on the pool table and eat that sweet little pussy of yours 'til it stains it. Bend you over that bar - that you've been spending months teasing me behind - an' just -" He lets out a long, shaky breath as he pushes his tip inside of you, revelling in the feeling of your cunt immediately pulling him in for more.
"Please, Tom…" you whine. "'S all I think about when I'm closing, too. Can't look anywhere without thinking of how you'd fuck me," you admit half-sheepishly as you rock back onto him.
Tom's hips buck to meet yours as he groans. "God, I've been a fucking idiot, then, haven't I?" He half-laughs.
"'S fine, just - fuck me now, please? Just how you’ve always wanted to?" You beg, crying out in delight as he grabs your hips and starts thrusting frantically into you.
You've always thought it was cliche as all hell when people say that with the right person, it feels as though they're made for you - but Tom barely needs any direction from you to bring you to your apex. He feels right inside of you, he's hitting just the right spots at just the right pace, without you even needing to ask him. And the sounds he makes as he's fucking you, just the knowledge that you're clearly making him feel the same way, turns you on even more.
His moans become more strained, and his grip tightens. "Fuck, babe, need - need to feel you cum so I can - fuck, are you close?"
You whine out an, "Almost. I can get there quicker, though," you start shuffling to reach down between your legs, but Tom bats your hand away.
"Please, allow me," he smirks as he strokes your clit up and down.
"Such a gentleman," you tease, and he chuckles.
"Not much gentle about me, love," he purrs before rubbing your clit in deliberate, tight, fast circles, slapping your ass once more for good measure and practically losing himself inside of you when he feels how you clench around him at that.
When you climax, it's more intense than you've felt for a long time, if at all. You paint his cock in your juices, and he only just about manages to pull it out of you in time to spread warm spurts of thick cum against your ass.
You flop down onto the bed, still stomach first, in exhaustion, smiling wistfully at the feeling of Tom lightly dragging the tip of his cock through the strings of cum he's left on your ass cheeks. "Having fun back there?"
"Just sort of sinking in that it's really happened," he replies in a state of dazed happiness. "How you feeling?"
"Good," you smile back in the same tone, "so very good."
"Yeah?" he smirks proudly.
"Should probably clean up," you mutter into your pillow, "but I don't wanna move right now."
Tom laughs, "C'mon, let's see if we can share a shower without you trying to go for round two, eh?"
You sit up on your knees, pivoting to face him, and gasp in shocked offence, making him laugh even more. “Oh, if I can, eh? And what about you?!”
He leans in with a grin, holding you by the throat as he kisses you deeply, longingly. “I already know I can’t.”
Once you’re both stood up, the rest of the night catches up with you and you both spend a moment blinking at each other heavily and laughing in exhaustion. You do share a shower, but it’s tender, soft, intimate. Lots of gentle caressing and slow kisses as you bathe Tom in your signature scent, the two of you becoming as one.
When you’re all clean, dry, and snuggled in Tom’s arms in your bed, you sigh. He turns his head to rest his face against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss to it as he asks, “What’s wrong, sweetness?”
“Don’t want to fall asleep, now. Means it’s over,” you mumble into his bare chest.
“What, d’you really think I’m gonna ghost you after this?!” Tom asks with amusement. “You’re stuck with me now, babe.”
“Oh, no(!) How terrible(!)” You joke, and Tom gasps.
“Cheeky!”
“Ah, can’t reach down to spank me now, can you?” You tease.
Tom hums sleepily, “Hmm, I’m keeping track in my head of what I owe you, don’t you worry,” and you giggle. “Y’know, this wasn’t really how I wanted to do things with you.”
“How’d you mean?”
Tom shuffles a little, “Well, y’know. The deal was only ever to get your number, at first. Then, I was gonna wow you with my excellent flirting skil- why’re you laughing?” He pokes the soft part of your side, tickling you and making you laugh even more. “Anyway, wanted to do it all… Y’know, proper. Wine and dine you, so you knew it was for real.”
You frown, tracing the freckles on his chest absent-mindedly. “Yeah, but you did do all that. You bought me a drink at the start… Bought me my burger… And I think I know how you feel about me well enough by this point,” you grin. “Just thought you’d earned a night of teasing me, for once. Don’t get too used to it, though.”
“Oh? Sounds like a challenge,” Tom smirks, and you laugh. He sighs happily, “I really do like you, by the way. Not just drunky Tom, an’ I wasn’t just trying to get you in bed, neither. Not that I’m complaining,” he squeezes you closer to him, smiling into your hair.
“I like you too, Mr Grant,” you tease back, looking up at him to kiss him. One kiss gets followed by another, and another. “Things just feel right with you, y’know?”
“Yeah, I do,” he replies wistfully. “Like… Not to bring up my ex, but being Ruth was just like… Doing it to get it over with, d’you know what I mean? Like we did because it’s a thing people do. But that was just fun, like we were having a laugh but it was so fucking good at the same time. ’M just sorry I only made you come the once, especially on your birthday. How inconsiderate, eh?!” he jokes, and you laugh so loudly that your hand flies up to your mouth, but Tom gently guides it back away, watching you with adoration.
“Trust me, that was plenty! If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t get to play with you more,” you go back to playing with his freckles.
“Right, so, plan is, we get up nice an’ early in the morning, you suck me off and then ride my face until you’ve had at least three orgasms, yeah?” Tom jokes.
Laughing, you offer, “Deal. If you’re still asleep when I wake up, I'll just get started and wait for you to catch up, shall I?"
"God, it's like you're in my brain," Tom shakes his head as you both fill the room with laughter.
“S’pose we should get some sleep then, shouldn’t we?” You suggest, shuffling around until you’re comfortable. He matches your posture easily, spooning you and wrapping you up in his embrace as he settles down next to you.
“G’night, love. Hope you enjoyed your birthday,” he muses in your ear.
“Definitely the best one yet.” You smile sleepily as you feel him lean over to kiss your cheek, and turn your head around to sneak in a few more kisses before finally falling asleep.
tagging a few people who might especially want to read, feel free to tell me if you don't want to be tagged <3: @keerysquinn @pedgito @babybluebex @reysorigins @keeponquinning
#tom grant#tom grant x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant imagine#tom grant fanfiction#tom grant fanfic#tom grant fic#tom make up#tom make up x reader#tom make up x you#tom make up imagine#tom make up fanfiction#tom make up fanfic#tom make up fic#*myfics#fic: tom g
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hey my love, forever obsessed with everything u write x
u said something about potential tom ideas, it’s probs a short one, but i would LUV for u to write something similar to his first scene, where he comes in and greets (😦) ruth, but potentially an extended ahem version with y/n.
feel free to ignore if it’s not doing anything for u x
have a good day!
warnings: smut (18+ only), housewife kink, slight pain kink, some biting, touch of cornish, mostly just wholesomeness
"Can't believe you're really 'ere," he beamed, jumping on you in a tight hug. You giggled and managed to get your arms out to hug him back. "Stole me jumper?" he noticed with a grin as he lifted the hood behind your head.
"S'my favorite," you reminded him. "Smells like you."
"Well, yeah," he laughed, "so do I! So show me some love, eh?"
Grinning, you pulled back and gave him a kiss-- just one, a chaste peck at first, until you went in again and he held onto your face, keeping you close and kissing you harder. You hummed into it, moving your lips in time with his-- it was still just a sweet kiss, but deeper and slower, and you hold onto his shoulders a little tighter.
"Missed ya so much," he mumbled against you, and you hummed back again. "Y'miss me too?"
You just nodded, not nearly as coherent as him as you drank in the feeling-- it was almost surreal, after being apart for months, to have him pressed up to you now, to hear his voice not through the phone, to see his face in person and not just in silly pictures or facetime calls.
"How much?" he wondered, and you could feel that sly grin on his lips. You smiled, too.
"A lot," you replied cryptically.
"That's it? Just a lot?" he teased, moving his hands down to your sides-- you giggled harder, feeling a little ticklish suddenly. "'Cause I missed you so much I thought I might lose my mind. You're not allowed to live that far away anymore."
"What?" you laughed.
"I decided it, just now," he announced, sticking his chin out, and you pushed him on the chest.
"Shut up, I have to live that far away for school."
"School? Psh," he dismissed, "don't need it. You can just stay with me here and I'll take care'a you."
He was just joking, but you found yourself biting your lip. And he saw it, too, and smirked as he looked down at your face.
"Y'like the sound of that, eh?" he noticed.
"A little bit," you admitted, shivering as you felt his fingers creep around your waist to your back, pulling you into him as he pressed against you.
"Me too," he mumbled. "You can stay here and just do whatever you like all day while I'm workin', wait for me to come home. Sounds kinda nice, yeah? Y'can do whatever you want... as long as you take care of me when I get back."
"Take care of you?" you repeated, sighing softly as he kissed beside your ear.
"Yeah," he said, and something so simple shouldn't have had an effect on you, but he breathed right against your skin and fuck, it just felt nice-- it made a pleasant chill jump up your spine, which in turn made your back in his arms. "Like a good li'l wifey."
You whimpered, and he grinned as he pushed you back onto the bed-- it was just one step from the door, one of the benefits of a trailer-- climbing on top of you with a mischievous grin.
"Wanna cook and clean for me, don't you?" he laughed, dipping down to kiss your neck, even biting you gently once. "Didn't know you were so traditional."
"Sh-shit, Tom, neither did I," you whimpered, spreading your legs to wrap them around his hips.
"Don't worry, m'gonna be so good to ya, love," he groaned, and you felt his hips rock forward-- you could feel that he was hard already, and you whined. "What kind of husband would I be if I didn't please my wife properly?"
Arching your back up off the bed, you felt his hands slide up under the borrowed hoodie-- his hands felt so damn good on you, and you sighed happily as he reached your tits and groped at them.
"Mm, pretty thing," he mumbled under his breath. "C'mon, let's get this off-- don't need to wear that anymore, m'here to take care of you now."
You lifted your arms and let him take it off over your head-- until it got stuck on your nose, and you whined as he kept tugging. "Hey-- hey!" you protested, slightly muffled by the fabric, and he stopped with a laugh.
"Sorry, love," he offered quietly, and though you couldn't see anything while trapped in the navy blue abyss of cotton-wool blend, you felt his lips against yours just under where the neckline had snagged on your face.
"Mm!" you hummed against him, one hand slipping around the back of his neck, "need to help me get outta this, Tom..."
"Fine," he relented, breaking away and gently lifting the neckline up off your face so you could get out-- and then you were topless, you hadn't even been wearing a bra anyways, and you felt sort of chilly but in a way you oddly enjoyed. "So pretty, love, lookat ya-- mm," he growled playfully.
He kissed you once, not nearly long enough, before sitting up and peeling his shirt off, giving you a proud smile as he descended again; he must've seen the way your eyes trailed over his toned, but lean, body, lingering for just a second on his necklace and the little trail of blonde hair that led from his bellybutton down into his shorts.
When he was on you again, his hands hooked into shorts and started to tug at them; you lifted your hips to make it easier to slide them down your thighs, and you shuddered with delight as you felt him take your panties down with them.
He moaned lowly as he looked at you, naked under him, waiting impatiently for more. "Your turn," you requested as you reached for his shorts, trying to push them down, but he helped you out and stayed propped up with one hand as he did his best to tug them down.
You bit your lip when his cock bounced out proudly, curling up against his abdomen, flushed at the thick head that you already needed inside you now. "Shouldn't I warm you up a little first, love?" he reminded you as you grabbed at his hips, trying to pull him closer.
You shook your head. "C'mon, jus' need you, please?"
"Okay, okay," he laughed, laying himself on top of you and kissing you again-- you whimpered as you felt him pressing his erection right up to you, daring to go inside, but still hesitating.
"Fuck, please!" you whined again, and he finally did it.
And, yeah, he was right, he probably should've warmed you up first-- you forgot that it had been a while since you'd been with him, and without owning a dildo or even a vibrator the biggest thing you'd had inside yourself for the past four months was two of your fingers. Those were nothing compared to him, he was so hard and thick, stretching you more than you expected; you whined, a sharp sting coupled with the pleasure of being filled, and he stopped. "Y'okay?" he panted, obviously affected by being inside you again after so long.
You nodded. "Yeah, just-- stings a little. You can keep going," you offered.
"I don't wanna hurt you," he explained, voice just louder than a whisper.
"You're not, I just have to get used to you again," you replied gently. "Please, don't stop..."
He pushed forward, giving you a few more inches of him, but it still wasn't everything-- and you were groaning through your teeth at the feeling. "Christ, you're so..." he sighed. "So fuckin' tight, god, swear m'not tryin' to hurt you... y'feel so good, please-- just a little more, you can take it, right? You've almost got it, love..."
You nodded, letting out a loud whine-- half pleasure, half pain-- as he filled you to the brim, and his hands held onto your hips tight as he tried to control himself.
"Missed you," he said again, "missed you, baby-- missed this so bad. You're so good for me, love, m'good wifey, huh?"
You whimpered and nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Y-yours, Tom," you choked.
"Please," he breathed, "can I move? Fuck, jus' need to move a little, need to fuck you, angel--"
You nodded again, and gasped as he slowly pulled his hips back and pushed back in. Already the discomfort was fading, it helped that you were so wet for him and that he was still being rather patient-- but you knew it was taking all the self control he had to be this gentle with you.
"So perfect," he mumbled against your skin as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. "Perfect for me, all mine-- love you so much... m'little wife, yeah?"
"God, Tom," you whined, "you're so-- we never even talked about that before..."
"You know I wanna marry you," he whispered, moaning as he found his pace-- still not too fast, but gaining speed with each movement. "I know I told you that before."
"Yeah, but I didn't think you were serious," you replied, digging your fingers into his shoulders as his cock slid right over that spot every time. "We're too young, aren't we?"
"Who cares?" he mumbled, biting on your shoulder until you moaned louder. "If it's what we want. You want it, right?"
You nodded, and he purred.
"You wanna be my wifey, then? Wait for me here and help me... wind down, after a long day at work?" he prompted with a smirk that you felt as he kept sucking on your neck.
"Yes," you sighed.
"Good girl," he grunted, and you felt yourself clench on him.
You reached down between your body and his, finding your clit that was throbbing for attention and rubbing it quickly with two fingers.
"Mm," he hummed, "gonna play with yourself while I fuck you? S'cute, but you know it's my job to take care of you, love..."
He guided your hand away and moved your hips, holding your legs open with a tight grip on your thighs. You weren't sure what he was manhandling you around for (not that you minded), until he moved his hips again and the hard pressure of his pubic bone hit right on your clit and-- "Oh!" you gasped. "Fuck, Tom..."
"Mhm," he smiled, "I remember. Didn't forget how my girl likes it in just a few months apart. God, you're all I've been thinkin' about, really, trying to remember exactly how you come for me. Why don't you remind me, angel?"
He kept encouraging you until you did, which was not immediately after that of course-- but so soon that you were a little embarrassed at how easily you finished. Then again, it was Tom; he never made you feel embarrassed or self-conscious about anything, even when he was making fun of you, because he just had that sweet way about him and you were so comfortable.
"Fuck, love," he grunted, "so tight when you come on me-- shit, see what you did? Creamed on my cock, love, look..."
You couldn't actually see it, but you believed him, you could feel how wet you were-- it was dripping down onto his sheets, which would be annoying later, but you didn't even care.
"Don't think I can last," he admitted with a low grunt, "m'sorry, you just-- feels too good, been way too fuckin' long..."
"It's okay," you promised, "just come, Tom, I wan' you to."
"Fuck," he moaned, "say that again."
"I want you to come," you repeated.
He fucked you hard and fast, every ounce of rowdy, raunchy teenage hunger forced on you as he chased his release. You watched his face tilt back for a second, eyes shut and mouth slack and cheeks tinting a bit pink-- and that fucking necklace dangling over your face.
He whimpered a bit as he pulled out, instantly painting your stomach before he'd even gotten his hand around himself to finish off the job; you smiled and bit your lip as you felt his hot, sticky come land on your belly.
"Fuck," he sighed, dropping his head as he squeezed the last drop out. "Hold on, lemme clean you up--"
But you didn't let him leave, you grabbed him by the back of the neck and sat up to meet him halfway for a lazy, slow kiss; he smiled into it and held your face gently, tongue dancing on your lips as you moaned sleepily. "Mkay," you finally offered as you fell back onto the bed, "now you can get me a rag."
"Dreckly," he winked at you as he pulled his shorts back up and went searching for a washcloth for his wifey.
#tom grant x reader#tom grant smut#tom grant make up#tom make up fic#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut
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I can't stop thinking about pairing this guy:
with this guy:
Just something about the absolute goofball energy of the first, running into the megalomaniac energy of the second. I feel like President Loki would be all "I am here to rule and nothing's going to stop me!" and the Mobius variant would be confused but on board and also distracted by a dish on another table: "Oh yeah? Cool, cool, tell me more. Hey, are you going to eat that?"
ETA: I ended up writing a short thing for this idea. Adding a link here in case the one in the reblogs isn't obvious.
There is now a 4+1 expanded version up on AO3!
#president loki#mobius m mobius#lokius au#originally i was just thinking about how owen is at the start of the skit#dentist turned janitor turned influencer#but we can take it a step further and make it about indianapolis bones#president loki showing up with an entourage to some swanky dinner where dr bones has been cornered#all hell breaks loose when the 'interested parties' bring out weapons because loki's men think it's an attack on loki#in the chaos dr bones hooks an arm through loki's and runs out to 'save' him#loki is obviously confused and outraged and possibly interested in this strange fedora-wearing man?#that's all i got#stop thinking of new fic ideas challenge failed#owen wilson#tom hiddleston#lokius
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I have this icemav time travel au in my head that I don’t know how to write. So I am going to leave it here. It’s like 86 flyboys somehow ends up in 2022 and it’s been like a week since the 86 icemav met so they are still in their early you’re dangerous/I am dangerous phase.
Imagine their surprise when people in 2022 are going on and on about Mav and Ice being wingmen. Somehow all they hear about is Admiral Kazansky this, Iceman that (maybe they met cyclone first), while the older Mav is just chilling in the corner with a wild grin.
Then they find out icemav’s married with older Mav being all domestic with his Ice (it’s after a pneumonia scare and he’s being extremely protective). The younger Mav is too shocked and outright asks if all he does in future is be Iceman’s house husband which cracks up their older counterparts. Older Ice disagree and argue that he was the house husband waiting for Mav to come back from his missions and has a whole debate about it with his husband.
#meanwhile younger Ice is panicking#he so old and frail#he is going to throw away all his cigarettes#and he was not going to end up alone like he feared#can they speed up time?#how long will he have to wait for maverick to look at him like that?#to love and to be loved so intensely#so yeah that’s my brain rot#I had to get this out#idk how to make it into a fic#icemav#top gun#top gun maverick#pete maverick mitchell#tom iceman kazansky#time travel au
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need me some slow, romantic, maybe a little rough, sex with our baby boy boyfriend tom pls (only if you feel so inclined)
author's note: this is just...yeah. we can all dream.
cw: 18+ (minors dni) established relationship, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, face slapping/grabbing, the soft rough sex i’ve ever written
word count: 3.7k
Tom's voice is muffled in the valley of your breasts, still covered by the frilly lace of your bra. Your shirt is shoved to the side, along with most of his clothes, both of you having haphazardly undressed, too eager to touch one another, skin to skin.
He's been planning for a week, trying to get everything just right, all the small details - setting the mood, as he calls it - all for it to end up crumbling as soon as he woke up that morning.
The restaurant he'd made reservations at? Closed. The sunny, bright weather he had expected? Overshadowed and overcasted by rain. He even called off today—which was quickly ruined by a phone call begging him to fill in for a sudden no-show. He's been running on empty most of the afternoon into the evening and by the time you step foot into his caravan you can see it.
He's done. So utterly done that he can't even think of an apology. But, he doesn't need one.
There was this outstanding expectation that he needed to get your one year anniversary perfect, a fear of dropping the ball and disappointing you, that you might find some reason to leave him.
Everyone left him; that wasn't a secret. It's why he's secluded himself away here. He wasn't unhappy, it was nice here—but things could be better.
You shush his apologies as he speaks against your chest, hands running a fury of waves along your skin, up your side and down toward your thigh, hooking your leg over his hip and widening his legs, rubbing his cock against your middle, finding him as hard as you'd expected.
He's begging for it—to be with you, to have his way with you.
"God, really fuckin' need you," He sighs, lips dragging along your collarbone and toward your clavicle, trailing until he reaches your lips, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss, "you look beautiful."
"I've got no makeup on and I ran over here after my shower," You respond, a giggle in the back of your throat, "I'm in my pajamas, christ—Tom, are you alright?"
"Tried to make things perfect for you," He admits, pulling back slightly to look at you, the low light of his trailer and the television screen in the corner of the room illuminating his face, the soft cupid bow of his lips jutting out as he pouts, "didn't even cook you a proper dinner."
"We can eat later," You assure him, even though it's nearing close to ten and the only place open was a twenty minute drive, "I'll cook or something, it's not a big deal."
"You deserve it." Tom says sternly, brow furrowing in response to your carefree attitude. "This sucks, doesn't it?"
"It'd be a lot less sucky if you'd fuck me," You respond bluntly, "had a long day, don't care about the fuckin' food. I just want you."
"Yeah?" His eyes light up—you were the remedy to it all.
"Need you," You say softly, pulling at his shirt, fingers fisting into the ends until you can yank it over his head, "want you inside me."
"But, I wanted to—"
"Tom, for my sanity," Your eyebrows raise in annoyance, begging him to skip the sweet gesture of going down on you—as much as you enjoyed it, you'd much rather have his cock inside you, "please?"
Now, preferably.
He's got enough sense to pull your underwear off, rather than push them aside. Most of the time, it's fumbling, rushed quickies between shifts because you're both too insatiable to avoid each other and Tom's too impatient to get you fully undressed.
He's not surprised that you're already wet, his cock springing free from his own underwear as he navigates it down his hips and off, settling between your legs again with a soft nudge to the line of your cunt, the head of his cock pressing gently, catching your clit.
You grumble, a quiet noise that Tom otherwise wouldn't hear if it weren't for how still the air was outside, aside from the occasional howl out in the distance. He gets the idea though, wasting no more time to press inside you.
The fit is tight, a little resistant at first, a result of your impatience. A slow rock of Tom's hips does the trick, easing inside of you like home and your collective sighs filling the air.
He's got his hands locked under your knees, rubbing at the sensitive skin in the joint there as he holds them close to his body, a little higher than his hips so the angle feels deeper, more intense. Your open palm presses against his chest, fingers dragging against the thin patch of hair in the center, catching on the silver pendant hanging around his neck.
"S'this what you needed?" Tom asks, a warmness to his voice that only came in moments like these, rough around the edges from the strain his pleasure held on him.
You nod eagerly, a small gasp leaving your mouth as he folds you in more, angling his hips deeper. He opts for his hands pressed into the sheets on either side of you, your legs still secured tightly around him. You clench, an involuntary action caused by the quick switch in position, his cock hitting some deep spot inside you that makes you want to curl in on yourself.
"Oh, fuck," Tom curses, eyes falling shut for a brief moment before flicking up toward you, "love, we talked about that."
You're lost, drowning in the high of your own pleasure, so much so that his words don't even register, nodding absently in an attempt to seem coherent. You do it again, a little less on accident as your fingers wrap around his tensed forearms and squeeze, his pace quickening slightly at the tight squeeze of your cunt.
"Hey, you listenin' to me?" Tom asks, a tinge of impatience in his tone.
"Mhm, yeah." You answer idly.
You weren't. At all.
He's got his eyes on you again, contorted in a mix of confusion and frustration as his thrusts slow, a hand coming to reach for you face, chin squeezed between his fingertips as he forces your attention.
"Wanna try that again?" Tom asks, a subtle smirk crossing his features. "S'goin' on with you?"
You shake your head carefully, still caught in his firm grip.
"I'm fine," You insist, "jus' really needed you. This."
And frankly, you wanted to lose yourself a bit. Forget about everything going on, all the stress and worry—be with Tom in this moment and enjoy it. But, he worries, he cares. It takes a moment for it to click, the impish, needy look on your face, begging without saying the words.
Tom didn't often try and get rough. He enjoyed the soft, intense slowness of sex. Two people holding on, grabbing and squeezing and feeling one another. He'd bury his head into the crevice of your neck and listen to the small sounds you made, soft moans and little squeaks of pleasure when he felt his own orgasm approaching, pace quickening until it consumed you both.
Your eyes fall shut, a long sigh on your lips as he leans up, hands returning to your knees and spreading your thighs further apart. There's a soft cry that leaves you, his palms spreading out over your stomach, all warm and calloused, rough from his job and the occasional working out that he did. He squeezes your waist, silently asking you to keep your legs spread open like this, pulling you back against his cock until the force is scooting you up the bed a fraction with every thrust, cries quickly turning into loud, unconstrained moans.
"Look at me." He pleads, crestfallen when you shake your head.
"C—can't," You argue, seeing stars behind your eyelids, "s'too much."
Tom quirks his head slightly, feeling annoyed, selfishly, that he can't have you look at him. He's not one to force or demand or give ultimatums but he needs it. He stops dead in his tracks, sacrificing his own need for release to get what he wants.
You sigh, frustrated, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands.
"M'not asking." He tells you, "I can stop, if we need to."
Your eyes quickly retch open, staring back in bereavement.
"Fucks gotten into you?" You ask, taking a full body glance at the man before you—the man currently seethed inside you. His chest is flushed a deep red, rising and falling quickly. His lips are parted, brow furrowed in annoyance but his eyes still soft. "S'gonna be like that?"
"If it needs to be," Tom counters, shrugging slightly, "—does it?"
You huff, "You're getting teazy, stop it."
Tom laughs at that, a short chuckle through his nose as he moves his hips an inch, settling back into a slow rhythm.
And he almost - almost - believes that you can follow through, but when things settle back into a comfortable pace, you're right back to your previous state, eyes closed in an attempt to block out the distractions, feel him.
He's reaching a boiling point, grabbing your face roughly in an attempt to catch your attention, but when it doesn't, he tries a different method. It's not the first time he's gotten rough, per-say, but it's a far cry from what you're used to—and it isn't until his hand comes down in a sharp slap across your face that you're realizing how much you don't really mind it.
It's not aggressive or harsh, but a solid reminder of what he's asking - no, demanding - of you. And you can see the instant regret on his face when your eyes open, widened slightly at the shock of it all. It's tense, his eyes searching desperately until you can't help but laugh, hands covering your mouth in an attempt to quiet yourself.
"Fuck, that's—sorry," Tom spills out, prying you hands away gently to rub at the spot, face hot from the sting, "that was - too much, wasn't it?"
You shake your head hesitantly, actually thinking it over—Tom was good at making you feel safe, even now, and if you couldn't have a small change in dynamics when it came to sex, then what was the point? And it doesn't snuff the fact that you definitely didn't hate it, at all.
"Do it again?" You asks softly, Tom sharing your confusion and amusement now as his hand pulls back, balls up into a tight fist and unfurls.
"Are you—you're okay with that?" Tom asks.
"You're not trying to hurt me, are you?" You ask assuredly. Tom doesn't waste a second, shaking his head. "Then?"
"But I mean—it does hurt, doesn' it?"
You shrug, "Feels kinda good," You smile, giggling at his quick change in expression, something hiding deep behind his eyes, "you wanna make me feel good, yeah?"
Tom snorts out a short laugh, your cheeky and nefarious behavior easing his worries. "Always."
"So," You start, baring your chin up slightly, heels digging into his ass as you pull him in against you, his thrusts having slowed to a stop again after he's momentary freak out, "do it - again."
Tom grunts softly, forced forward and nearly falling over you in the process. He laughs again, a soft sound as he runs tenderly at your chin bared before him, pulling his hand back gently to give you a soft slap against your cheek.
Your eyes narrow, sighing and resting back fully into your pillow. He didn’t have it in him, clearly—not when he’s being put on the spot.
“Really, that's all you got?” You say patronizingly, “M’not gonna break, Tom—I’m asking for it.”
He slaps you suddenly, without warning, hair fanning across your face. It’s exhilarating, heart racing in your chest as you gasp, surprised by the sudden strike. There’s an involuntary clench around his cock at the action, that pit in your group igniting again, his hips rocking slowly.
You nod slightly, which is a good a sign as any. His day had been awful, you could see it. It's not like you're asking him to take it out on you—use you in ways you would've never imagine otherwise, but it feels like fair play. You were just as frustrated, if not more, dealing with unruly and inconsiderate people all day.
Usually you would opt toward complaining and venting at one another, not arguing, rather just telling each other about your day - though, vividly and animatedly. But, considering the circumstances, the importance surrounding the day; it felt okay.
He snaps his hips once, roughly, a small yelp escaping you.
Tom smirks, a small chuckle coming from behind his grin.
"You like that?" Tom asks, knowing full well of your answer. He does it once more, timing it with another quick slap to the opposite side of your face.
His eyes light up when your tongue pokes at your cheek, daring him to do more. "Fuck, you're not real, you know that?"
"I'm right here, you fucker," You snark, mouth splitting into a smile when he shakes his head, "yeah, yeah—I get it, Tom."
He's poured his heart out to you more than once, little was left to be said that you didn't already know. Tom truly couldn't believe that you were real some days, a tangible person in front of him, one that often woke up beside him in bed and cuddled into his side, all warm and soft and mumbling to yourself in your sleep.
Tom buries his face into your neck for a brief moment, continuing his sharp, rough thrusts as he fists the fabric beside your head, rutting into you in a way that felt animalistic, the sharp jut of his pubic bone rubbing against your clit, the sound of skin slapping harshly against skin. The comforter had fell to the floor at some point, along with your clothes, and you whine, nails digging into Tom's skin when he hits the perfect point inside of you, his hand shooting to your hip to keep you there, still you.
"Got an idea," He rushes out, sounding breathless, "turn around."
And as argumentative as you like to be, not a word is said. You scramble shifting around until your on your belly, Tom's hand reaching under your thigh to pull your ass upright, the other smoothing down your back until he's got you in a position that pleases him, his hips rocking slowly against your backside, not entering, but nearly.
"You'll tell me if you don't like something, right?" It's a check in, a silent warning that things might reach a boundary you couldn't handle. But, you trusted Tom—you'd repeat it until you were blue in the face.
"I trust you." You respond, it's not what he's looking for.
His hand fists your hair, wrangling your head until the left side of your face is shoved into the mattress, giving you a side glance at him, though it's uncomfortable to make the effort to look. You huff gently, his eyebrows raising in question.
He didn't need to speak.
"Yes—yes, I'll tell you. Of course." You assure him, a surge of pride mirroring his satisfaction as he releases his hold, though lacking the normal gentleness.
"Good, good," He murmurs to himself, a strong grip on your hips as he presses into you, sliding back inside with ease, but his pace is nothing but easy, "stay like that."
You nod, breath hot and wet against the sheets as he holds you at an angle that feels painful - it should feel painful - but it's a dull ache in comparison to how good everything else feels. You cry, throwing caution to the window when you stifle the noise into the sheets, turning your head slightly.
“Hey,” His voice is a warning, tense as he yanks your head back to the side, squeezed between his fingertips as he forces your mouth open, “fuck did I just say, love?”
“Sorry,” You gasp out, garbled by the tight grip he had, “I’m—‘m sorry, Tom.”
He watches you carefully, thrusts deepening and his brow furrowing slightly, feeling you tightening around him, the small inclination that you were getting close.
His thumb catches your bottom lip, rubbing at the softness of it and thinking about how they always taste softly of mint, obsessively reapply your chapstick in fear of chapped lips. It did it’s job, at least.
“Are you?” Tom challenges, thumb slipping past your bottom row of teeth and over your tongue, “Are you really?”
You nod, a needy movement that has you wiggling back against his cock, changing the angle immensely.
Tom groans deeply, switching out his thumb for his pointer and middle, “Suck.” He orders, your mouth closing around his fingers without question.
He watches carefully, mouth parted at the sight because even with him buried inside of you, your mouth still drives him mad. He pulls away after a moment, feeling the wetness was sufficient enough and angles his hand until he can press them against your clit, the sound that escapes you is nothing short of rewarding for him.
“Hey, huh uh,” He chides, “no coming until I say you can.”
“That’s not fuckin’ fair.” You nearly shout, rearing back in an attempt to look at him. The hand not busy working you to the brink fists your hair, forcing you back down into the pillow, allowing Tom to easily overpower you.
“Say the words,” Tom says, “we can stop.”
Just a few simple pleas, a snap of your fingers, it would all be over. Tom would have you back under him, on your back, whispering all the sweetest words he could muster but that’s not what you’re looking for. You can play the game for now, allow him the little fun he seeks from it.
You shake your head stubbornly, gasping inwardly when his fingers speed up, the soft pad of his fingertips swirling over your clit until you’re white knuckling the sheet, gasping on nothing but stale air - and he’s pulling back.
It’s torture. Actual, full on, torture.
He notices you trying to make the effort, eyebrows creased in concentration and annoyance, that ache in your gut growing stronger and stronger until it hurt. But, he’s not as unreadable either, his thrusts faltering slightly as your bodies fall, his front pressed tightly against your back, hot and sweaty bodies molding together.
You can’t be bothered to complain.
His arm is still tucked tight under you, circling your clit gently as you come back down from the near orgasm, stopping every so often until he sees your face relax, another subtle nod his direction.
“God, feel so good around me,” Tom sighs, teeth digging into your shoulder lightly, muffling whatever sounds followed, “fuck—gonna let me come inside, yeah?”
“S’dangerous.” You mumble, still, your mind throwing all precaution to the window.
“Fuck it—let me,” Tom begs, “S’just this once.”
You sigh softly, nodding despite your best interests.
“Don’t worry, love,” Tom assures you, “I’ll go out and buy the pill—s’much as I’d love seeing you like that m’not ready either.”
The heavier his slurs get, the closer he is - that and he’s panting loudly into your skin, broken gasps when you squeeze him just right.
“Gonna let you come,” Tom starts, “but you’ve gotta ask.”
“Tom.” You pout, bottom lip jutting out slightly. He can see it, but barely—the light in the overhead fixture is nearly out of juice, but if he squints, he can see you pretty well.
“Humor me?” Tom asks softly, “Please?”
And if there were any way to bring Tom back into himself, it was you. So, you throw on some of the theatrics for his sake.
“Oh—okay. Fuck, Tom—“ A sharp gasp, hand reaching between you and the sheets to grasp his wrist, the loose and languid circles quickly become a less of that and more determined—now that gasp, it’s genuine, “I’m right there—let me, can I—can I come, please?”
“Yes,” He nods furiously, “please—need to feel you come around my cock, love.”
Tom’s vision nearly whites out and he swears he loses consciousness for a moment, his fingers coming to a stop as he comes soon after, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks while he’s buried deep inside of you, spilling all he had to offer.
He groans long and loud, “Fuckfuck, oh my—please turn over, please—“
It’s clumsy but you manage, the ache in your hips noticeable as you flip over, quickly consumed by Tom’s lips pressed against your skin, like he’s trying to nuzzle into you and make a home. He moans, a soft sound, and it’s endearing.
“Hey, hey—“ You nudge, his head tilting up until you can barely see his eyes, before he’s hiding his face again and continuing his prior actions, mouthing a slow line of open-mouthed kisses along your neck, “Tom, seriously.”
He sighs - like a kid not getting their way.
“You got me all hungry now.” You complain.
Tom chuckles to himself, turning up to rest fully against you, head propped in his open palm, elbow resting in the small gap of your arm and your body. He grips your face gently with his free hand, shaking your face playfully.
“Worked up an appetite, huh?” Tom teases, “Whaddya say, takeout and a movie?”
You giggle softly, leaning your head down to kiss the small sliver of skin that connects his thumb and pointer finger before nodding in response.
“And then a little more of that.” You suggest, his face lighting up at the admission.
“Enjoyed it, didn’t ya?”
Tom really shouldn’t be as excited as he is, but it’s new and thrilling and part of the reason he just can’t enough of you.
“Too much.” You admit freely.
And Tom would take a million bad days if it meant he could have this, with you.
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#tom grant smut#tom grant x y/n#tom grant x you#tom grant make up#tom grant x reader#tom grant#joseph quinn x y/n#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut#joseph quinn#joseph quinn fic#my writing
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okay okay and "I'll always want to listen to you" with tom!! (love that you've included him on your list!!) 💕💕
adore you
pairing: tom grant x (f)reader
warnings: minors dni, fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers.
etc: this is the first time i’m writing for this sweet boy and he had like ten seconds of screen time so his characterization is hella up to interpretation lmao.
“I’m sorry.” You frown, realize that you’ve spent the last hour rambling; getting lost in your own thoughts, letting all of the frustrations, happiness, excitement, eventful things that had happened to you within the day pour out of you like a stream of exasperation, declarations, gasps, and laughs.
Something that Tom was probably used to from you by now, but something you still felt bad about—getting lost in the stories you needed to get out, that you wanted to tell him. The first person you went to talk to about anything, everything.
It had been like that for the handful of years the two of you had been friends. Tom was always the ear you needed, the friend, the welcome hug, the first thought in your head when anything good or bad happened.
“You’re probably sick of me stealing the thunder of our conversations all the time.” You laugh, press your fingers to your lips nervously, pushing your back into the cushions of his couch a little more.
“No,” he shakes his head, smiling. Reaches out to pull your legs into his lap, pulling you closer to him. “I'll always want to listen to you.”
The small circle he’s rubbing into the side of your ankle makes your stomach flutter, cheeks burn from the smile on them. From the simple act of friendship, of kindness, that feels so much deeper than that in the pit of the organ that’s in your chest—keeping you alive.
You don’t remember when the crush had started, presented itself. Had shown its ugly face ready to ruin everything the two of you had built over the years; the perfect friendship, commitment in each other that went far past the normal understanding of being there for a friend, or being a listening ear, or a shoulder to cry on when it came to shitty breakups.
But ever since the feelings had slipped into your heart you can’t help but catch your breath every time your eyes meet from across a room, when you get put on the same workload and you get to spend a little extra time with him—to mostly goof off and throw things at each other, or sit on the floor and talk. Or after work when he all but drags you to his trailer to have dinner with him, watch his favorite show or film.
Stealing glances at him while his face lights up, while he laughed, smiled, poked fun at you.
Your stomach filled with those cheeky butterflies that made your entire chest feel warm and fingers tremble nervously—wanting to reach out and brush against his cheek, or hold his hand, the thought alone nerve ending, merciless to your insides.
It had been two years since his shitty breakup and there hasn't been anyone since. You’d hate to admit it but after the initial two month respite of it all, Tom had become more himself again. The Tom you knew before he was drained from an awful relationship, a Tom you never let yourself feel anything for because he was in a relationship, because these types of feelings were tricky, scary.
And now you couldn't run from them even if you tried.
If only you could tell him.
“What?” He asks, eyebrows pulled together as he gives you a questionably teasing look.
“What?”
“You’re staring,” he smirks.
“At you?”
“Mhm.” He presses his lips together, turns his attention back to the ankle he’s currently making feel too warm.
“You wish.”
“Oh, is that right?” He gives no warning when he grips your ankle hard, pulling both your feet into the crook of his arm to start tickling the bottoms of them.
“Tom! Stop!” Your shriek, cries, can be heard from miles away you’re sure as you try to kick out of his hold. A mute point that only pulls you closer to him, your butt almost in his lap.
“Admit it then!”
“Admit what?!”
“That you love staring at me,” he laughs.
You want to spit something smart at him but your body's fight or flight is making you want to throw slaps at him to get him off of you. “Fine!” Your breath is heavy in your lungs, exasperated. “I love staring at you!”
After he’s pulled away, let your feet drop back into his lap, he’s grinning at you. “I know. I like staring at you too.”
#tom (make up) x reader#tom grant x reader#tom (makeup) x you#tom grant#tom grant fluff#tom (make up)#tom grant x f!reader#joseph quinn fluff#joseph quinn x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant x y/n#tom grant fic#tom make up#make up 2019#joseph quinn#tom grant imagine#tom grant x fem!reader#blurb week
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"uncle mav + bradley over the years" fic
unmoored
Maverick, drifting in and out of his life. That’s what Bradley remembers most.
(Bradley and Maverick, in ten parts)
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my submission for the Insert Title Here 2024 collection :)
#i have beef with rooster for being unfair and overly cruel toward maverick considering he's like a WHOLE ASS adult by the time tgm happens#this fic was an exercise in me dealing with that and being nicer to rooster#because if brad cut off mav he also cut off ice which makes for some fucked up behavior re: ice's cancer#so yeah#this was fun but weird to write#im not sure if i hate it or not#icemav#iceman x maverick#top gun fanfic#tom iceman kazansky#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun fanfiction#pete maverick mitchell#tg86#my writing#jake hangman seresin#hangster#uncle maverick#mavdad
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I’m here to ask for Mr Grant smut. Please give me the smuttiest, filthiest, kinkiest, toe-curling smut ma’am. I’m a hole for Tom Grant.
Not as smutty as I originally wanted but I got carried away and I keep going back and forth on it ajajsfhjfhh but i have snippets I edited out that I may post as a series based on this duo so 👀
Tom Grant x Fem!Reader
Warnings: friends to lovers, no mention of y/n, dry humping, groping, making out, oral sex (f receiving), a little body marking, p in v sex, bit of cum play at the end (and a hint of breeding kink if you squint)
Word Count: 3.1K
The evening cast long shadows along the ground. A warm orange light casts from the sky into your quaint trailer as you set down the last of your belongings on the counter and looked around. Recalling the fond memories that tainted each square inch of this place you once called home, now empty and cold to the touch. You never truly felt like you belonged anywhere, always an outcast searching for a home. But this place was pretty damn close. Half of your things were already settled in, and the other half scattered in boxes along the hallway; you decided enough had gotten done today, and plopping yourself down on the couch with a cup of tea was more than deserved. Just as you were about to grab a book from the shelf and let it whisk you away into a world far away from the depressing reality you now sulked in, a knock rumbled at your door. Tom.
"Ya told me to come at 6; I can come back if ya-" You quickly cut him off, assuring him it was okay and motioning him to come inside. You nearly forgot you'd invited him over after running into him earlier that day as you arrived at the park. Tom gave you a grateful smile before entering and shutting the door. You recalled the day you met Tom all those years ago. There were no facades, no preconceptions, no expectations. It was as if you'd known each other forever; time constantly blurred when you were around him. He had a way of making you forget everything wrong in the world while consuming your every thought. " 's a bit of a mess in here, eh? Need some help?"
"Oh, because your trailers all neat and tidy?" You teased, and he let out a small chuckle.
"I'll get round to it dreckly. 'M sure of it." You scuffed while setting down some clothes from your bag into the small dresser and walking back into the living room.
Tom took a seat on the couch, stretching one arm out on the backrest. He tried to distract himself from the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach from being around you after so long by glancing around your trailer. Your books were stacked neatly on a small shelf, tabs, and stickies poking out from all the notes you inevitably jotted down as you became encompassed in each story. He didn't even notice he was fiddling with a cream blanket beside him, the scent of you still so prevalent on it; he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself in it. Being surrounded by you was unsettling and comforting in the best possible way. His mind couldn't help but wonder what evenings with you would look like, laying with you on the couch with your favorite book in hand while he stroked your hair and soothed you after a long day at work. He yearned for it more than anything.
"Why do you always look at me like that?" You questioned as he sat up and leaned his head back towards the couch.
"Like what?"
"Like that." You gestured toward his face hoping he'd get the point.
"Don't think I can look at ya and not smile, birdie." His words made your heart swell. It was true. Tom couldn't remember a moment he looked at you and didn't have a smile painted on his face; he couldn't help it. He missed this; the way he felt when he was around you was like nothing else. Like the aching void inside of him, he didn't even realize was there had been finally filled after all this time.
Tom sank back into the couch, getting more comfortable and eyeing an old polaroid stashed in a small box on your coffee table with photos of an old flame he faintly recalled peeking out from the side.
"Still on about that emmet, eh?" He teased and pointed towards the box, but you physically cringed at the memories of regrets from three summers ago, trying to lodge themselves in your head again.
"That was a long time ago, Tom. Plus, think I learned my lesson, hm?" You snapped, your back now turned to him. Tom's smile faded, and regret washed over him. The memory coming back to him now, how you looked that night you showed up at his trailer, heartbroken and tears streaming down your face over a summer fling with a slimy tourist you barely knew. He recalled the anger he felt and how he pushed it to the side in order to be there for you, to hold you through it. He vowed never to let anyone hurt you that way again; he would've stuck to his word too if you hadn't picked up and left in pursuit of that so-called better job without warning all those years ago. Who knows what he's failed to protect you from now. You cleared your throat, making Tom snap out of it, not letting himself dwell on what could've been any longer.
"'M sorry, bird." He muttered almost to himself. You turned towards him with a bewildered look. "I know I been a bit of twat. Didn't mean to upset ya an' all."
"It's fine, Tommy." -- "Did ya have something you wanted to talk about? You asked to come over and all..."
"Yeah, well, I-I guess I-Shit." Tom's mouth opened, but the words ceased. He was ready; he told himself he was the second he saw you waltz into that trailer park again. He couldn't let you slip through his fingers again without telling you how he felt about you; he wouldn't. "After Ruth-after I realized-I jus'" His mouth went dry, and he forgot everything he craved to tell you as soon as he felt your eyes on him. But now you were here, in front of him in all your glory, looking as pretty as you always did, and he was stuck.
You could tell he wanted to say something important by the way he fiddled and chewed on the inside of his cheek. His breathing seemed to quicken, and by his adoring gaze, a slither of hope bloomed in your chest at the possibility that maybe he felt the same way you did after so long. You moved to sit by him on the couch, waiting for him to say something, anything, but there was just silence as your eyes explored his. "Jus' wanted to tell ya about tonight; everyone's headin' to the bar from work, 's all."
"You're full of shit, you know that, Tom?" You spit venom in your words, and your voice raised higher than you realized, which made him wince at your words.
"What's that supposed to mean? 'M full of shit?" Tom's demeanor immediately shifted as he moved a little further from you on the couch. "Maybe if ya didn't snap at me, I'd be able to finish..." He muttered under his breath, barely audible enough for you to hear.
"Well, go on then, hm? Ruth's not here clouding up that head of yours anymore, so what is it, Tommy?" You didn't mean for it to come out as enraged as it did, but you couldn't help it. It had been years of bottled-up 'what ifs' and 'what could have been,' and you were sick of it. This isn't how you pictured it. It's supposed to be easy. Comparable to lulling to sleep. This was hard. You took one last pleading look at him before speaking. "You were gonna say something else. I know you were...please."
"Bleddy, ya not gonna make me say it, eh?" He rubbed a hand on his jaw in frustration. You noticed how his jaw clenched and his breath caught in his throat. "Birdy..." You stepped closer toward him until you could feel his breath fanning your face. Tom's deep chestnut eyes bore into yours as you took him in. Your fingers craved to trace the small lines that had appeared on his face since you last saw him, no doubt traces of how the time you had been away from each other having taken a toll on him. His curls had grown slightly longer, unruly, and practically dangling over his face; you had to physically fight the urge to run your fingers through them. You took his hand in yours, giving him space and allowing him to continue if he felt the need to do so. "Worried I’ll be shit at it 's all. 'Cause of the whole Ruth stuff, ya know." Tom mumbled. "Jus' fancied ya for ages, never thought I was good enough. Then ya left, and I dunno." He paused briefly, catching himself in his own ramblings. "I love ya, bird...think I always 'ave." You beamed, but something told him your response was half appreciation and half disbelief.
Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. Tom's lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slip inside and deepen the kiss. Your breath quickened when you felt his hands slide across your waist and cup your face on one side as he sighed into the kiss. It didn't take long for Tom's hunger for you to become apparent, with feverish hands bringing you closer until you were straddling his lap. Your hands finally tangled in his curls, breathing in as much of him as possible before he pulled away slightly.
But you couldn't stop. Not now. Not when you had him withering away into a blubbering mewling mess right under you. You snapped back into it when you felt the straps of your top fall below your shoulders, exposing your tits to him. Large palms began to knead them, pinching one already stiff nipple while his mouth worked on the other. His hips bucked towards yours, desperate for any friction you were willing to give him while he placed wet kisses on every piece of skin he could get to and soothed every bite with the warmth of his tongue, a promise of what was about to happen if you let him in. Your moans echoed off the far walls of the trailer, unable to regain control of yourself once he began to roll his hips in sync with yours. His bulge hitting your clit every time had the both of you desperate for release. You felt your wetness seeping past the thin seam of your panties and onto your inner thigh as his fingers dug into your hips to guide you.
Tom's head is thrown back onto the couch, giving you access to bring your lips to his neck, making him choke back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his best to gather thoughts. "Fuck bird, ya keep that up, and 'M not gon' last much longer." He practically mewled as you picked up your pace while his lips went back to tasting your skin. The sensation of his hands roaming your body and your swollen clit, getting precisely the pressure and friction it craved. Soft heat flushed through your veins as you pressed yourself closer to him. Tom's lips never left yours, taking every whimper and guiding your hips to grind on him steadily.
Tom cradled your face in his hands, his lingering stare and blissed-out look making you shiver against his touch. His eyes were still burning with lust as he pulled himself from the kiss and glanced up at you. His face flushed and lips swollen pink. Your eyes diverted to where you had been grinding on his lap, the obvious tent in his work pants making you bite down on your lower lip with a smirk. Tom took your chin between his thumb and forefinger to bring your gaze back to him before moving you to sit on the couch as he sank between your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulder, nibbling on the insides of your thighs. Your heart felt like it would beat out of your chest as you felt Tom's hand push your skirt up to bunch around your hips; he held your gaze and placed a delicate kiss on your already-soaked center before hooking his fingers on the sides and sliding them right off.
Tom's tongue ran sloppily along your slit, gathering your wetness only to tease but never quite get to your needy clit. Your head soon lulls back when you feel his tongue firmly press into you. One of his hands leaves your thigh to bring a thumb to your newly abandoned clit, giving skilled circles to the slick flesh.
You moaned borderline pornographically at the sensation and squirmed, but he didn’t relent. Tom just concentrated on making you fall apart under him, reveling in the soft cage of your thighs. Your chest heaved as he inserted a finger inside you, pumping and pressing against that tender spot. Tom can’t stop himself from groaning into you, drunk on the feeling of making you feel this good. Voice muffled as his cock strained in his work pants, desperate to ease the pressure; he could cum from just devouring you, and he was sure of it. If he knew you’d make these pretty sounds for him, he’d have done this much sooner.
"Right there. Don't stop." His lips circle and suck at your clit, making you moan and mewl in an entirely different way. An arch of your back is the signal he earns to keep doing what he’s doing. Tom doesn't relent as he inserts another finger when he suddenly feels you clench down on him and practically sob as your orgasm rips through you. He drinks you in and continues his ministrations. Once he knew you were sated, Tom pulled away, his chin and mouth coated in your juices as he licked his fingers clean before pulling you to stand with him.
Tom carried you from the couch and laid you on the bed before removing his shirt, pants, and boxers as he climbed over you. His cock bounced against the tuff of hair covering the lower half of his tummy, the length was definitely more than you were used to, but it had your mouth watering at the sight. Aching and red, leaking droplets of precum from the slit. Tom had you splayed out under him, hooded eyes, and already fucked out from just his mouth.
"Your fuckin' beautiful bird. 'M never gonna get 'nough of you." His fingertips traced the clasp of your bra, and you nodded, signaling him to get rid of it. He wasted no time mouthing on the soft tissue of your breast, his other hand kneading the neglected one, wet lips enveloping your nipple and swirling until your hands tugged on his soft curls. His lips moved along your neck and the skin on your collarbone, sucking and etching a trail before pulling away. Tom admired his work; he lightly kissed the purple marks adorned your body to soothe the skin.
Tom was absent-mindedly sliding his length along your slick, the tip of his swollen cock catching on your clit with every swipe that had you whining under him. He lined himself up with your entrance, eyes flickering to yours to make sure this was okay, make sure you still wanted this, still wanted him. You could sense the doubt inching into his mind, so you pulled him down into a bruising kiss, pushing your hips up to assure him, making the head of his cock slip inside. A hum of appreciation rumbled deep inside your throat.
"Fuckin’ hell." A hot jolt of energy spread inside your tummy as Tom continued to push inside you. Your heart fluttered, air leaving your lungs as you exhaled in contentment, watching Tom's eyes squeeze shut and mouth fall into a perfect 'o' at the feeling of finally bottoming out inside you. His grunts rumbled through you, growls that sent a wave of desire spiraling through your body until you were burning up with need.
"You feel 's good." Your warm, soaked walls are like velvet around Tom's cock as his hips thrust in and out of you. Groaning softly in your ear while you clawed your nails into his back from the pressure. He can feel your cunt begin to throb, wishing he could just take a second to sit back and watch you take him so well. A golden curl dangled from his head, the chill from his chain pressing on your forehead with every thrust as he picked up his pace making the coil in your center tighten further.
"Tommy.." You could feel every ridge of his cock and the heaviness of his balls slapping against your ass every time he slammed into you. An endless string fills the room as you buck your hips to meet his. Your walls clench, then flutter. "Hmph-please." Tom sees how you're struggling to string together words as your mind goes numb, slowly losing yourself to the bliss as he slithers a hand between where your bodies meet to swipe methodically at your clit, making your thighs quiver around him.
"Go ahead and cum for me, yeah? Need to feel ya, bird. Please."
That was all you needed. White hot pleasure built in your core and snapped as you writhed under him. Completely lost in the euphoria, the intensity of the sensations coursing through you, increasing pleasure with every touch, every caress, every whisper of encouragement. Tom continued to fuck you through your orgasm as he chased his own. "Fuck. 'M gonna cum. W-where?"
"Inside, Tommy. Please. I want to feel you." Something inside Tom splintered at your words, and he cascaded into his own ecstasy, spilling himself into you. He made sure to lean on one side, wary not to put his entire body weight on you before carefully pulling himself out and sitting back between your legs.
Closing your eyes, you relished the feeling of Tom's cum slipping out of you, already knowing that you were making a mess on your clean sheets. You barely noticed how he was almost admiring his work, gently taking two fingers and pushing whatever dripped out of your overstimulated cunt back inside, making you squirm away from him. Tom couldn't help it; he was proud of himself. Proud that he'd been the one to make you come apart like this. He wanted nothing more than to make you lose control again and again, to know that he was the cause of it.
"Come here." You pull Tom to lay next to you and nestle close to his chest as he puts an arm over you. "So what now?"
"Oh, 'M never letting ya leave this bed." You erupted in a giggle as Tom brought you closer to him and placed a kiss on the crown of your head. And at that moment, you knew exactly where you belonged.
#tom grant#tom grant make up#tom grant x reader#tom grant fics#tom grant smut#tom grant fluff#tom grant x you#joseph quinn
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I think I'd like to tie up Tom Grant and lick whipped cream off of him tonight. Since it's a special occasion and all. 👅
I hate him (i love him so much it hurts)
"I thought this was supposed to be a present," he whines for the millionth time, his head rolling on the pillow while he looks up at you. The ties held his arms and legs in place securely to each of the four bedposts, leaving him exposed, naked, and at your mercy completely.
"It is, Tommy, just relax," you giggle and give him a sweet kiss to placate him once more. He sighs into your mouth, relishing the softness of your lips and the silk of your robe against his bare skin. "One more complaint outta you, and I'll gag this pretty mouth of yours, do you understand me?"
"Yes," he gasps out, he loves when you're like this; so calm and gentle yet still in control and so fucking powerful. You grin at his compliance and peck his lips once more.
"Good boy," you feel his cock throb happily between your bodies at the praise. Straddling his waist, you finally sit in his lap, his hard on nestling against your core through the robe.
"F-Fucking hell," he curses under his breath before licking his lips to smile up at you excitedly. You can't help but smile back at him as you begin to untie the robe. "Yes, take it off for me, baby, wanna see you," he sighs, his eyebrows tilting up in a gentle plead.
"You wanna see me, Tommy?" You coo and play with the tie a little longer to listen to him beg a few more times. He's been dying to see whats under your robe ever since you walked out of the bathroom and swatted his wandering hands away.
"Yes. Yes, please, wanna see you, love," he begs softly, nodding eagerly and trying to sit up as straight as he can to get the best view.
Finally, you unravel the tie and let the teal silk fall from your body. Tom knew you'd put on something pretty for him, but fucking hell, he wasn't prepared for the treat that you hid underneath.
The dusty blue lingerie set was going to be seared into his brain, he was sure of it. The way the bra was cupping your breasts was downright sinful. Pretty clusters of fabric flowers etched in lace over the silky satin of the cups and panties seemed to call his name, begging for his hands to feel their petals. The garter belt that is cinched around your waist leads his eyes to the expanse of your torso and thighs, the soft skin there peeking out from behind the straps and bands that wrapped you up deliciously. Then your panties, oh God Almighty, your panties were Tom's favorite: matching silk satin covered in the darker blue lace, an embroidered 'T' adorning the space just above your honeypot.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," he moans shamelessly, pulling at the ties repeatedly. "Fucking hell, baby, s-so fucking gorgeous, Jesus, how are you fucking real? Fuck me, oh God," he rambles and stares at you as lust swallows his irises.
You simply giggle at him, letting him babble to himself while you reach for the hidden can of whipped cream you stashed under the other pillow. The moment he sees the can, he's grinning like mad.
"You've got to be kidding?" He chuckles, half whining and half excited to see where this goes. When you nod with your own laugh, he's laying back on the bed, his eyes shut as he resigns himself to his fate. "You're the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me, love, ya know that—AH!"
A cold line of whipped cream lands at the center of his chest, sending goosebumps all along his pale skin, his cock flexing happily against your crotch. You both share another laugh, your smile lasting even as you slowly dip down to lick the sweet cream from him with an appreciative moan. Tom moans with you as your hot tongue glides along his chest, a delicious contrast to the cold topping. He watches as your sinful tongue licks the white cream from your gorgeous lips, wetting his own when you lean down to kiss him.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, too, Tommy," you whisper against him before giving him another mind-numbing kiss.
"Love you," he whispers through passionate kisses, "love you so much, keep going, please."
"Love you too," you mumble before sitting up straight again, can in hand. "Now where were we?"
Part 2???
Comments and reblogs are always welcome! 💖
I no longer have a taglist! If you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖
#tech tuesdays#tech tuesday#tom grant is a sweetheart and i just want to love him#tom grant make up#tom grant smut#tom grant x reader#tom grant#tom grant x female!reader#tom grant x fem!reader#tom grant x you#tom grant x y/n#joseph quinn fic#joseph quinn#little lion literature#valentine's day special
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the way tom hiddleston looks at zawe🥰
#nobody touch me im soft#i love them#never shutting up about them#why? all the years i was in the tom hiddleston fandom and was faced with constant blatant racism#because of the amount of times people would say he wasn't attracted to black women#because of all the loki fics i read that never had a black love interest fornhim#i will not shut up uou cant make me#idc idc#zawe ashton#tom hiddleston#tom and zawe#theeblackmedusa🐍🐍
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HOW ABOUT.... 77 >:3
oh shepherd. ohhh shepherd. 77 is shark week and its really a shame that shark week is so low considering that everything everything was my top artist of 2023, narrowly beating glass animals and usurping their 5 year streak. so um this is about ben and tom to me smiles
(668 words)
It’s a busy night.
That bodes well for Tom, who makes his way through the halls of the lab, following stripes of color through the bright white light. He makes his way through groups of testificates, blocking out questions and chatter, putting his mind away from whatever they could be working on. He wasn’t focused on that, tonight. He wouldn’t be asked about his trip. Not that he would be in the first place—that’s what he got for being good at his job. Nobody asked questions. Well. Xephos asked questions. But his questions were always to the point, and they were always a wrap around to the answer he was expecting, so as long as Tom was on his toes, he could answer them without saying anything at all.
Nevertheless of all of that, he slips his way through the halls of the lab, and through a few access doors, and to a room, where he stands for a moment, fishing for his keycard. When he swipes, the door slides open, letting in a bar of light. He steps in quickly, light disappearing for a short moment, until the lamp beside the bed clicks on.
In white-yellow light, Ben looks awful.
It’s not that he normally looks good, either, which is unfortunate, but he looks exhausted. The lines of his face grow darker in the low light, especially as he blinks awake, scrubbing at his eyes. Tom feels a sharp pang through his chest as he realizes he’s woken him, but the relief etched across Ben’s face as he locks eyes with him diffuses the guilt almost instantly.
“Hi, Ben,” Tom says, a smile worming onto his face.
“Tom,” Ben sighs, leaning back on his hands. His shoulders seem to relax almost immediately as he settles, as Tom steps more into the room. He sets his coat and clipboard on the nightstand, ruffling through the pockets as he does. He holds out a bundle of napkins for Ben. Ben cups his hands, holding the bundle for a moment before Tom gestures for him to open it.
“What is it?” Ben asks, tilting his head. The corners of his mouth lift up just so as he looks up at Tom. Tom’s still grinning, eyes squinted behind his glasses. He gestures again.
“It's for you,” Tom says. Ben snorts, rolling his eyes as he unfurls the napkins in his palm. Inside, Tom’s saved bread and cheese, crushed together from being shoved into his coat pocket, but largely still edible, and no small portion either. Ben’s face lights up, eyes flicking from the food in his hands and Tom’s face.
“You’re serious?” Ben asks. Tom nods, folding his arms as he comes to sit on the end of the bed, giving Ben enough space to stretch out his legs. Ben tears into the bread, almost famished, sighing as he chews. He smiles at Tom through his food, as if he’s holding back a laugh, and that alone sets a warm thing turning in Tom’s chest.
“Thank you,” Ben hums, swallowing with some difficulty. He reaches for the glass of water at the bedside, taking a small sip. Tom kicks himself—next time. Next time, tomorrow, or the day after, or two days from now, he’ll bring a whole canteen of water. He’ll sneak him away. He’ll make sure he actually gets clean, that he gets rest, a warm meal. Anything he can sneak to him. Anything that the testificates, that Xephos won’t miss.
Until then, Ben eats, savoring the food like he’ll never get a chance to eat again. Even in the white light, his face regains a bit more color, warm in the high of his cheeks. Tom laughs a bit under his breath, the motion shaking his shoulders.
“Of course, Ben,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. “What else am I good for?”
Ben laughs, a solid sound from his chest, and Tom laughs with him. He’s not sure when he decides it, but he knows now, more than ever, that he’s leaving. And he won’t be leaving without Ben beside him.
(spotify wrapped ask meme)
#i......................dont know what happened to me#this song is very breaking out to me#so.......#shepherd i dont know what happened to me. i dont know!! i shrimply thought about them too hard. i hope its canon (to you)#for everyone else. there is no canon ben and tom. we simply make that shit up#text#fics#asks#spotify wrapped ask meme#ooooh you guys wanna send another one sooo bad
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Cheers to the Weekend
Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader
Genre: smut
Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pillow humping, cmnf (clothed male, naked female)
Summary: You and your boyfriend discuss what to do with your weekend off together.
Word count: 3k
"Babe, I'm here!" Your most favourite words. You jump up from where you'd been sprawled across the couch, running all of about five feet before being able to embrace your boyfriend. He buries his face into your shoulder, humming happily.
"You alright?" You ask as you let go, reaching over to gently intertwine your fingers with his instead.
"'M very tired," he admits with a sleepy smile. "How was your shift?"
"My cheeks hurt from all the customer-service-smiling I've been doing," you admit with a grimace. "Still, that family's the weekend staff's problem now."
"Yep, and now your only problem this weekend is having your annoyingly doting boyfriend constantly wanting to snuggle with you, watch TV with you, maybe go for a little walk on the beach with you…" Tom's head cocks from side to side as he lists off activities.
"That sounds like the opposite of a problem, actually," you grin at him, pulling him in for a kiss. He kisses you back, starting with little pecks that gradually linger more, getting more and more intense with each one, pulling you into the bedroom.
He pulls back with one final chaste kiss. "So, what was that family's deal?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress to start unlacing his boots.
Getting yourself comfortable on the bed, you sigh loudly, "Mum was trying to find every excuse to get free stuff while her kid emptied all the soil out of Fergus' pot onto the floor. "
Tom lets out a sharp gasp as he tugs one shoe off, "Not Fergus the ficus! That's murder!" You laugh, and he smiles over at you adoringly. "See, this is why I couldn't do your job, I'd have told them all to piss off and made that kid scoop it all back in," he shakes his head as he kicks off the other shoe. He flops onto the bed on his stomach, groaning into the pillow. The way his face squishes into it makes you laugh again. "Ugh, was your bed always this comfortable, or is it just the day I've had?"
"It's definitely just you," you point out amusedly, laying on your side and propping yourself up by your elbow. "I could never do your job, either. Big, strong handyman, slaving away at that workshop, carrying all those big, heavy things…"
Tom laughs as he pushes himself up. "Y'give me far too much credit, angel."
You soon fall into your natural position in bed; Tom's arm wrapped around you, his fingers rubbing up and down the top of your arm, your head against his chest, his heart thumping against your cheekbone. It isn't long, though, before he squeezes your shoulder in a way you know means that he wants you to lean up so he can kiss you some more. Tom hums, "Really missed you today."
"Missed you, too, Tommy," you purr between kisses.
"Couldn't stop thinking about you," Tom admits, and you grin.
"Oh, yeah? What about me?"
"Just, y’know. Thinking about all the stuff we can do this weekend, all those things I were just saying about," he muses.
You grin coyly, "And nothing else?"
He rolls his eyes and tuts jokingly. "Yes, yes, and that stuff, too, horndog."
"What?" You giggle. "You're the one thinking about that stuff at work."
"Oh, and you're not?" Tom asks you in disbelief.
"...I didn't say that," you tease, moving over to straddle him.
"Oh, hello," he grins at the change of position, his hands running up and down the sides of your body, wrapping his arms around your back once you lean down to kiss him intensely, hips grinding down against his. He hums against your lips, "Mmm, somebody's eager, aren't they?"
"No shit, look at you," you grin back before kissing him again, your tongues engaging in a twisting dance of passion, accompanied by the harmony of you both moaning together.
"Fuck, yes, sweets, y'feel so good like that," Tom groans. "Keep making those sounds, yeah? Please, s'fucking hot." You move just slightly to moan deliberately into his ear, and his grip on you tightens. "Mmm, is this what you've been thinking about all day, love? Counting down the minutes until you could ravish me?"
With a sheepish giggle, you lie, "No…"
"Certainly seems like it," he raises his eyebrows at you as you sit upright, rocking yourself in circles against the erection you feel pressing through his tracksuit bottoms. He bites his lip tightly as he watches you, his hands slipping underneath your pyjama top to squeeze your hips, digging his grip in. He groans, "Want this off, want to see my fingers press into you."
"Is that all you want to see from me being topless?" You mimic his tone from earlier, and Tom laughs as he helps you pull the garment off of your body. He constantly slides his hands up and down your body, stopping each way to grip your breasts and your hips. Every squeeze earns him an evermore desperate buck of your hips.
Tom smiles dreamily up at you. "'M never gonna get tired of this view, pretty girl. My pretty girl."
You hope your, "'M not," is muttered quietly enough for Tom not to hear it, but no such luck.
"Uh, excuse you, you're fucking gorgeous, babe. 'M a lucky, lucky boy," he smirks, pulling your face down to kiss you again. He gasps out a moan against your lips, "And the way you're humping me like that, fuck, so good. Make me feel so good, looking like that, 've hit the jackpot, me. Fuck, is that good for you, too, yeah?"
You play with the collar of his shirt. "Please, Tommy… Wanna really make you feel good."
He groans again, this time out of exhaustion. "Listen, babe, literally any other time, you know I'd have my clothes off at that in an instant, but… 'M just so tired tonight, angel. I'm sorry."
"I could just ride you?" You offer, and he chuckles, rubbing his face wearily.
"You know I don't like just sitting there and letting you do all the work," he frowns up at you.
You mirror him, "And yet you'll spend the best part of an hour going down on me without expecting anything back?"
He pulls a face of intrigue. "What a wonderful idea." Before you can react, he wraps an arm and a leg around you, swinging his whole body around to roll you onto your back, as he hovers over you.
You giggle, "What happened to being tired, eh?"
"That was my last bit of energy," he grins back. "Well, almost. Think I've got just about enough to get these off you." He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before settling himself between them. "There she is," he coos under his breath, his fingertips tracing the outside of your folds. "I've especially missed you."
You groan, "Tommy… 'S not faaaair."
"What isn't, angel?" he asks, sliding his middle finger inside of you with ease. You gasp out a long moan, your eyes unfocusing, and he grins up at the sight of you.
“Wanna make you feel good, too,” you whine.
He tuts, shaking his head. “Now, now. Sulking in’t gonna get you anywhere, is it?” He pulls his finger almost completely out of you before sinking it back in again quicker. You thrash your fists against the mattress and he breathes out a soft laugh. “What did I just say, sweets?” he asks in the same soft tone as before.
“Not sulking,” you pout. “Just wanna - wanna touch you and taste you and fu- Fuck, Tommy, I really wanna fuck you, please,” you plead as he adds another finger.
He does climb up your body, still working your core with one hand, to silently kiss you. His motions get far more rapid, moving in and out of you until his fingers are so slick with your juices that they just slip out of you, to which he then starts rubbing your clit at the same speed. Your cries of pleasure come out as muted vibrations against his lips, and you don’t realise him taking the pillow next to you and pulling it back down with him even as he breaks away. You blink your heavy-lidded eyes over and over, watching the imaginary spots that shower your field of vision slowly dissipate.
“Plenty of time for that, love,” he soothes once he’s settled back down where he wants to be. “But right now, I fucking need your thighs around me.” His palms slide up and down the inner sides of your legs as a gentle prompt, and you comply, crossing your ankles loosely between his shoulder blades. He sighs contentedly. “So soft…” He shuffles into position to press a kiss to your clit, his hands wrapping around the flesh of your thighs to hold them in place. “So warm…” you hear him from the cave he’s made for himself between your legs as you feel him nuzzle his way further down to your core. “Perfect.”
His tongue works as tenderly as it would if he were kissing you, gently poking its way through your folds and sliding through. Your fingers card through his curls as his head turns, this way and that, as he plays you like an instrument, eliciting different noises from you with every motion. Your legs twitch, instinctively squeezing together around his head, and he moans delightfully, pushing down on your thighs to tighten their hold on his head even more. He snakes his tongue inside of you, extending it to its stiffest, most pointed length as he bobs his head back and forth to fuck you with it.
Your legs wrap tighter still around him, and you feel his grip slip around to your ass cheeks to grip them roughly. The sensation of his fingernails digging into your supple flesh have you crying out in pleasure, which you can tell from his moans is turning him on insanely quickly.
But, with your thighs in a vice around him, it gets harder for you to grab his hair, make a mess of his curls so that when he resurfaces, it's obvious for the rest of the day what he's been up to. You don't get to look into those dark, rich eyes of his that caramelise when the sun sets just right through the window.
You pout, "Tommy…" as you relax your thighs, pulling them slightly away from him.
"Everything alright, sweets?" He asks with concern.
You continue in the same tone, "Miss your face."
With a soft laugh, he kneels up slightly, your heels naturally sliding off of his shoulder blades as he does. "Of course, angel, 'm sorry." He pushes your legs wide open, looking down adoringly at your glistening folds. "Such a perfect, pretty thing, isn't she?" he smiles, running the pad of his finger along them. Placing his hands just within the crooks of your legs, he gently pushes outward, spreading you even wider. He marvels at the sight in front of him studiously, his eyes darting around until he places another, calculated, kiss down between your legs, his lips and tongue working in ways no form of self-pleasure could ever replicate.
His eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue in all kinds of formations: he lays it flat against you as he licks along your folds from the bottom up; he gently traces the insides of your lips with the tip; he waggles his tongue back and forth, at a speed your eyes can barely keep up with, as it works your clit from every angle he can move his head to reach. Every sound of pleasure you make is harmonised by his humming against you.
As you melt against him, warm brown eyes flicker up to look at you through his eyelashes as he starts suckling on your clit. All you can see of him are his curls, now wildly spread out thanks to your handiwork, his eyes and his nose, but with just those alone, his expression tells you how much he adores you. The way his brow softly knits together, the glint in his eye, it makes you feel like a goddess that he's obsessed with worshipping.
You cry out, "Fuck, Tom… Feel… So good, 'm gonna -" The rest of your sentence is swallowed in a high-pitched whine as you feel the first pang of your crescendo forming.
Tom groans against you, pulling away just to tell you, "Perfect timing as always, angel, this has been turning me on like mad, wanna make you cum so badly."
You whimper, "Please… Want yours, too, Tommy."
He tuts, shaking his head. "No time, sweets. Think you coming on my face is exactly what I need to get off, too." Before you can answer back, he resumes suckling on your clit, burying two fingers inside of you and working them at the same speed he had earlier, until you're seeing those spots again. "So fucking gorgeous when you're all fucked out, babe," he croons. "C'mon, be a good girl and come all over me."
As you let your orgasm take full control over your body, he stops fingering you to immediately get his tongue in there, cleaning you up as you cream all over his mouth for what feels like eternity. His look changes as he devours you, one you recognise as his own orgasmic expression. You notice a little movement in the corner of your eye, and prop yourself up on your elbow to investigate.
You'd not even noticed you were a pillow short, let alone that he had slid his tracksuit bottoms to his knees to fold the pillow between his thighs, humping it as erratically as he'd move if he were coming. You let out a small, disappointed whimper. "Y'didn't need to use a pillow, 'm right here."
"Can't eat you out and cum inside you at the same time, sweets," he points out with a smirk, his whole body looking on the verge of giving up all movement as he slides back up to be eye-level with you.
"I could've sat on your face and sucked you off at the same time," you retaliate in a similar tone, and he chuckles.
"Nah, needed that. To just make my girl forget that anything else exists for a bit. Helps me feel the same, too," he explains, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "S'pose I should clean up what's in these boxers, though, eh?"
"Is it weird that it actually turns me on, knowing you came in your pants over me?" You ask as he heads into the bathroom, and half his laughter gets drowned out by the sound of running water. As he's cleaning himself up, you notice the discarded pillow and start rearranging the others until the one he'd been humping is beneath your head.
As he returns, he looks quizzically at the bottom of the bed, pointing to where the pillow had been. You bury half your face into it, smiling coyly as you look over at him, and he bites his lip. "Speaking of things that weirdly turn y'on, that's so doing it for me," he groans under his breath as he sits on the corner of the bed and reaches again for his shoes.
You frown, "Where you off to?"
"We have to eat at some stage, horndog," he teases, leaning over to tap your nose playfully.
"What are you gonna go and get, then?" You ask as he puts on his second boot.
"Thinking that Chinese place just outside of here, it's never that long of a wait," he shrugs, and you hum happily as you redress yourself in your pyjamas, opting to stay sitting up on your bed as he gets up.
"Sounds good to me. Could I have a -" Tom interrupts you by reciting your order exactly as he walks towards the door. Feeling nothing but the pure ecstacy of being around someone who remembers even the littlest details, you mindlessly call back to him, "You're the best! Love you!"
Your little bubble of contentment pops when you realise what you've said. How it's the first time you've said it. And it's just on a throwaway goodbye on his way to get a takeaway. He rushes the few paces it takes to get back to your bedroom to look at you, his expression tough to read, and say, "Say that again." You start to fluster, unsure how you can potentially backtrack from here, but he kneels one leg back onto your bed, leaning over to cradle your cheek in his hand. "Please. Say it properly, to my face," he pleads softly.
Grinning widely, you place your hand over his and look him dead in the eyes as he gives you that worshipping gaze all over again. "I love you, Tommy." A surprised chirp escapes the back of your throat as he tackles you back down onto the bed, furiously kissing your lips over and over and over again, and you laugh against him. "What happened to getting food, horndog? Now you've made me hungry!"
"'M not doing this to fuck ya, 'm doing this 'cause I love ya," he mutters as he kisses your neck. You lay back and revel in how good it feels until your stomach betrays you, growling loudly. The breath from Tom's laugh tickles your neck as he slides down to pull your pyjama top up enough to expose your tummy so he can kiss it. "Alright, message received, loud and clear, boss," he says directly to it before climbing off the bed. You giggle as you readjust your top, and he looks at you softly. "I do love you, y'know."
"If you did, you wouldn't keep me starving here, now, would you?" You tease, falling apart with laughter once more as he bolts out of the door. You head back to where the sofa is - where you'd left your phone - and send him a text: I love you, too, btw. 😘
#tom grant#tom grant x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant imagine#tom grant fanfiction#tom grant fanfic#tom grant fic#tom make up#tom make up x reader#tom make up x you#tom make up imagine#tom make up fanfiction#tom make up fanfic#tom make up fic#*myfics#fic: tom g
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𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲 | tom (make up) x reader
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | you and tom have been two peas in a pod for your entire lives: tommy and birdie, partners in crime. you only fell in love with him a few years ago, though. maybe he'll notice sometime before you die of old age... but probably not.
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 15.8k (oops)
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only, dry humping, handjob, unprotected sex/loss of virginity, fingering, oral f receiving), alcohol consumption and tobacco use, best friends to lovers, angst, pining, fluff, tom and reader lacking braincells, extreme cornish, protectiveness/jealousy, There Was Only One Bed, I can't stress enough how fucking stupid these two are, truly no braincells detected in this entire fic
(title's after the song by the greeting committee <3 will always be the song that makes me think of tom the most)
YOU DON'T NEED TO SEE THE MOVIE TO READ THIS! plot of the film is totally discarded lmaooo
author's note part 2: there's a moment where the reader mentions that sometimes people think her and tom are siblings, she does not necessarily mean that they look alike! she means that they ACT like siblings and could be related through adoption or marriage-- her appearance isn't described and it's left open-ended for anyone to insert themselves ❤️
before we get started, I'm including a convenient cornish dictionary for you all to use if you're not already familiar with the dialect! other terms might pop up but they'll be explained in the text
teazy - acting grumpy or throwing a tantrum; something you might say to a kid having a fit or an adult who is being childishly negative
tuss - insult referencing male genitals; similar to 'knob' or 'dick' in UK and US english
my 'ansum - common, platonic greeting for men ("my handsome")
my bird - common, platonic greeting for women
rich - lovely, endearing, or beautiful
diddy? - a phrase used to mean 'is that true?' or 'really?'; diddah? and issuh? mean the same thing
wasson? - a greeting; short for "what's going on?"
jumping - very angry
hanging - terrible, gross
scat - (NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING lol) to push or fight someone
geek - a quick look; you can 'take a geek' at something
“Leave off, m'fine." Tom crinkled up his nose as he tried to brush your hands away, but you fought to keep dabbing the cuts on his face with the washcloth.
"Fine? You look like you lost a fight," you frowned.
"Well, we won the match, so," he smiled, but winced when you went back to the cut just above his eyebrow. “Fuck off, that hurts!”
“Couldn’t hurt as much as it did when you got it,” you insisted. “C’mon, it’ll scar if you don’t let me clean it up right.”
“So? I thought the lasses liked scars,” he grinned. “Makes me look tough.”
“Makes you look like you got your arse handed to you.”
Tom really wasn’t built for rugby. Though he certainly wasn’t in bad shape, he was the slimmest of all the guys he played with; he was fast, he had that going for him, but the poor kid got pummelled every time he played.
“Wish you wouldn’t go out there,” you mumbled, one of those rare times that you admitted how much you hated seeing him get hurt.
“Wish you wouldn’t worry about me when I can take care’a meself,” he replied.
And that was how it had always been— Tom was just reckless like that, and you had to try to reign him in as best you could. You could remember so many nights spent this way, you trying to scold him enough that he might be a little more careful; but considering you’d been doing this since you were just little kids, you eventually gave up on trying to stop him and just decided to be there when he needed a little comfort.
You might’ve always been Tom’s greatest comfort. So many things in life are uncertain, temporary, fleeting. Not you; you’d always been there, as long as he could remember— even longer, really. And not just because he had a shit memory from all those rugby concussions.
“Aren’t you worried you’ll look beat up in all our holiday photos?” you asked him, speaking quietly since you were so close to his face to treat his injuries.
“Why’d that bother me?” he shrugged. “You think I’m gonna be lookin’ at me own stupid mug in photos?”
“Don’t say that,” you shoved him on the shoulders as he laughed, leaning back into the couch. “You’ve got a nice mug, if you didn’t get it all mucked up.”
“You think m’pretty then?” he cooed sarcastically, putting his hand under his chin and batting his eyelashes; you giggled and shoved him harder, this time knocking you both back until he was laying on the couch and you were on top of him.
“Yeah, pretty daft,” you replied, and he snorted.
“Fuck off,” he rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your back.
“Lemme go, need to get a bandage for your face,” you explained as you squirmed.
“Nuh uh,” he denied your request, “not letting you up— sorry, birdie.”
“Tommy!” you whined through a laugh, struggling harder against him, but he just held you tighter and grinned down at you. Giving up, you made a pouty face and rested your chin on his chest. He mimicked your expression, mocking you until you frowned for real and gave up, turning your face again to lay your cheek down on his shirt.
He gave you a kiss on top of your head, and you let your eyes fall shut.
“Maybe just a little rest,” you decided, your voice already slurring— you were more tired than you thought.
“Mhm,” he agreed, brushing his fingers over your hair. “Just a little, huh?”
You nodded groggily.
“Alright— sleep tight, birdie…”
You were only tired because you’d been up way too late, packing for your trip to St. Ives with your and Tom’s families. Joint vacations were nothing new to the two of you— actually, his parents and yours had been taking trips together since before the two of you were born. There were pictures of you and Tommy, chubby little babies in your mums’ arms, riding on the London Eye; you’d watched a home video a few times where you were playing in the sand together at a beach in Valencia. You weren’t sure why they felt the need to fly all the way to Spain for beaches when there were plenty here in Cornwall… but, case in point, this trip was going to be a much more relaxed (and budget-conscious) one: a roadtrip across the county, a couple rooms at a beach-side inn, and some much needed time in the sun for the next week. Tom promised to teach you how to surf, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to figure it out anyways— but you looked forward to trying. Really, you looked forward to Tom’s hands on your waist as he tried to help you find your balance.
Truth be told, despite being secretly in love with him since you were fourteen, you never really expected anything to happen with Tommy. You were like brother and sister— even his parents treated you like a daughter, and vice versa— and you’d always been so close. There’s always that fear of confessing to someone you’re close with and ruining the friendship, but this was even worse than that. If you lost Tom, you’d lose everything.
So, it wasn’t sad— there wasn’t a lot of pining anymore, not many nights spent gushing into your diary about it and then crying yourself to sleep because he got a new girlfriend or something. It was peaceful now, the one-sidedness of it. You loved him, he didn’t notice, everything went on as usual and that was it. You kept dating other guys, though Tom never liked any of them, and he dated other girls that you pretended to get along with until they split after a couple weeks.
In fact, dating was the topic of the hour as you and Tom sat in the back of his dad’s suburban, trying to entertain yourselves on the long drive to the beach resort you’d be staying at.
“That girl Dani,” you remembered, focusing most of your attention on a sudoku from the book you’d brought for the trip. “She was fit— why’d you break up again?”
“Too clingy,” Tommy shrugged, not looking back at you; he was toying with the friendship bracelet around his wrist, the one you’d made for him at summer camp when you were eleven with blue and yellow and black chevrons. Since you gave it to him, you’d never seen him without it, which is why the colours were all faded and dirty now, and why you were glad you made it adjustable all those years ago… he certainly outgrew the original size by now.
“I thought that was Claire,” you recalled.
“Oh, her too,” he nodded.
“This seems to be a problem for you,” you noticed, “clingy girls. What does that even mean?”
“Means they get, like, possessive,” he clarified, holding his hands up almost like a motion of choking someone. “Wanna know what you’re doing all the time, want a text every half hour— it’s too much.”
“That just means they like you, Tommy,” you rolled your eyes. “You shouldn’t dump girls over that.”
“They usually dump me,” he corrected.
“What?!” you squeaked, before you cleared your throat when you noticed what your utter disbelief might imply.
“Guess they just get, I dunno, jealous?” he explained, crinkling his nose as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.
“Jealous?” you repeated, looking away from the page in front of you for the first time. The way he was looking at you— head tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a small frown— you realised what he meant. “Of me?”
“Well, yeah,” he mumbled, “I mean, we spend so much time together.”
“But we’re just friends,” you noticed.
“That’s what I try to tell them!” he insisted. “I mean, I say that you’re my best mate and all but I don’t even think of you like that— c’mon, I’d never…”
You looked back at the half-solved sudoku, letting out a sigh that you hoped you could pull off as frustration with the number grid before you.
“Guess they don’t believe me,” he concluded, “or they don’t care.”
“They must think it’s bound to happen one day,” you posited. “That we’ll get together, I mean.”
“Yeah— but don’t you think if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened already?” he pointed out.
You bit your lip. “Yeah,” you agreed curtly.
"Hey— whatever happened to that lad with the crooked teeth you liked so much?" Tommy asked.
"You'll have to be more specific," you huffed, keeping your eyes trained on your puzzle.
"He had specs and a freckle right on the end of his nose," Tommy continued.
"Oh yeah! Frank," you reminded him of the boy's name. "What, did you actually approve of him or something?"
"Course not," Tommy scoffed. "Jus' wondering, 'cause you used to go on about him all the time— 'bout how he was so wonderful and all." Tommy rolled his eyes, just to make sure it was perfectly clear that he didn't approve.
"Erm, well," you stalled, "yeah, haven't talked to him in a while."
Tommy wouldn't buy an excuse like that from you, he knew you far too well. Leaning in, he titled his head to try to get a view of your face. "Did something happen with him?" he pressed, and you swallowed.
"Yeah, I mean— nothing really," you shrugged, "he just got upset that I didn't wanna take things too fast, I guess. Called me a slag and threw my phone— didn't crack, though, got lucky there—"
"Diddy?" Tommy spat, his anger obvious on his face. He sat back up when you nodded, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "Shoulda told me, would've scat 'im down and beat his face in. Can't be talking to my birdie like that."
Your heart skipped a beat. His birdie.
"And throwin' your phone, too? Bleddy tuss," Tommy sneered, shaking his head as he looked out the window, like he was trying to calm himself down.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you get especially Cornish when you're angry?" you giggled.
"Only twice a day, birdie," Tom laughed.
Did anyone ever tell you that it turns me on?
“We’re here!” your mum announced, and you looked up to see that the car was turning in to a roundabout driveway. Tom excitedly leaned against his window, looking up at the hotel. “Wow,” he breathed. “Look!”
He guided you to lean in right up against him, pressing your cheek to the glass so you could see the tall building. It wasn’t a skyscraper or anything— this wasn’t that kind of place— but it was at least ten stories, with white bricks on the outside and seafoam-green shutters on each window.
With the car parked, Tom and the dads were going through the boot while his mom ran to use the loo and you and your mom checked in.
You weren’t really paying attention, honestly, while your mom gave the woman at the front desk a credit card for incidentals and all that. The interaction only piqued your interest when you heard her confirm— “three rooms, then?”
“Yep,” your mum agreed.
“Three?” you repeated, looking up at her.
“Yeah— your dad and I, Gary and Marie, and then another room for you and Tom.”
You cleared your room. “Tom and I get our own room?”
“You think us old geezers wanna be kept up all night by your giggling?” she snorted. “Figured you two could entertain yourselves just fine, give the grown-ups some space.”
Before you could decide how to react to that, the opening of the front doors got everyone’s attention. Tom looked ridiculous trying to carry as many bags as he could— all of yours, plus his and his mom’s— and you snorted as you watched him waddle into the lobby with all of them.
“What floor are we on?” he asked, the strain in his voice apparent and hilarious.
“Ten,” you informed him, and he groaned.
“Kidding! Three,” you chuckled, “and there’s a lift.”
“Aw, Jesus,” Tom grumbled as he walked past you, struggling under the weight of the bags. “You’re tryin’ to kill me, birdie.”
“I didn’t tell you to carry all those,” you rolled your eyes, looking at the concierge again as Tom turned the corner to find the lift.
“Is that your boyfriend?” she asked, continuing before you could answer. “You two are adorable.”
“O-oh, er— no, actually,” you stammered, “just a friend.”
“Oh!” she mumbled. “I see, my apologies.”
You looked down at your phone for just a second, only to hear your mom make a strange noise— a little giggle, and you saw her and the woman at the desk looking at each other. “What?” you asked your mum.
“Nothing, dear,” she dismissed.
“What?!” you hissed, groaning when she hid a cheeky smile but said nothing. “You’re so weird sometimes, mum…”
“Anyhoo,” the concierge mumbled, “you’re all ready to go! Three king bed rooms, third floor, ocean view—”
“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, “all the rooms have a king bed?” She nodded. “Just a king bed?”
“Well… there’s a couch,” she offered.
You deflated slightly. “That might be a little strange.”
“Oh,” she hummed, “well, I could change your room if you’d like. But they won’t be connected anymore…”
“That’s fine,” you shook your head.
“Okay, there’s a room with two twins across the hall,” she explained, reading from her computer screen.
Ugh, a twin was gonna be uncomfortable, but so would just one bed. “That’s fine, thank you.”
She clicked around on her keyboard for a bit, and right as she looked up at you again, Tom appeared from around the corner again. “All done,” she announced, “I’ve changed your room for you!”
“You what?” Tom choked.
“She’s just changed our room for us,” you explained to him.
“Ah god,” he panted, laying his head against the wall while he caught his breath. “Birdie, I just put all the bags away…”
You sighed, and the woman piped up again. “I could still change it back for you, if the bags are too much trouble.”
“Please,” Tom breathed, and she nodded and started up with the keyboard again. Rolling your eyes, you brushed past Tom flippantly.
“I’m gonna change,” you announced.
“Goin’ up to the room?” he asked.
“No, I was going to strip in the hallway and hope nobody walked through,” you replied snarkily.
“I was just gonna give you the key, birdie,” he smirked, pulling the plastic card out of his pocket. You chewed your lip, regretting being so rude.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from him and moving along to the lift.
~
You’d only brought one swimsuit, the new one you’d bought just for this. Maybe you’d had this crazy idea somewhere in the back of your mind that if you wore a tight little bikini, you’d finally get Tom’s attention and he’d stop seeing you just as the little girl he’d grown up with. If you’d been a little less emotional and a touch more logical, you would’ve checked the weather first.
Yes, it was a beach, but it was still an English beach… the sky was grey and cloudy, and without sunlight, the ocean breeze was less refreshing and more chilly. Very chilly, in fact, when you had hardly anything on like this. You were trying so hard to act natural, to lay there on that chair on the beach and look as gorgeous as possible for whenever Tom came out, but it was so cold… every few seconds you were tensing up your jaw to try to fight off a shiver.
He came down a couple minutes later, wearing his swim trunks, but since he was apparently smarter than you, he was also wearing a half-zip jumper and a t-shirt underneath. You pretended not to see him coming and laid still, only reacting to his presence with a polite wave when he was too close to ignore.
“Not gonna get much of a tan in this weather,” he noticed with a laugh as he sat next to you.
“I’m not tanning, I’m… relaxing,” you explained.
“Want me jumper, birdie?” he offered. “You look freezing.”
“I-I’m fine,” you insisted, but your teeth chattered. Next thing you knew, he was peeling it off over his head anyways— his shirt stuck to it and started to lift, too, exposing his stomach. He managed to get the jumper off, though, and pulled it down over your face as you laughed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Tommy, stop it,” you whined, batting his arms away so you could put the garment on yourself— he’d been trying to force it on you and accidentally trapped your face in one of the sleeves.
When you finally navigated your limbs through the borrowed sweater, popping your face out and breathing in a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck inside the cotton for a moment, you saw him looking at you… different. Just a little different, but different nonetheless. You wrinkled your eyebrows together at him, and he shook his head with a little laugh, and it was all back to normal again. “Should keep you warm,” he mumbled, turning back to the view of the ocean and bringing his feet up onto the chair.
“Thanks,” you nodded, watching him lift his hands up behind his head and sigh.
For a while, you two laid there in silence, the sound of the ocean waves and seabirds like a quiet, slow song. If you weren't thinking constantly about whether or not Tom was looking at you, you might've been able to relax enough to fall asleep. Apparently Tom wasn't all in his head because he dozed off within a couple minutes, and after that, you decided to get up and explore the beach a bit. There were little shops dotted here and there, a gelato stand, a cosy open-air pub playing music over their speakers.
You stopped to watch some boys playing volleyball on the beach, and one of them seemed to notice you staring— and he smiled at you, just before he served; you had to be careful not to make yourself look stupid by suddenly smiling down at the sand and toying with your hair, but you desperately wanted to. He was cute, and tall and, you know, shirtless. They all were, but he probably looked the best that way of any of them.
He ended the round with a spike right beside the net, and his side of the court cheered while the others groaned and complained to each other. You clapped for them, and the boy looked at you again; he said something to his friends, and with the ball still under his arm, he jogged over toward you.
"Hey," he greeted with a sideways, pearly-white smile.
"Hi," you returned.
"Did you like watching us play?" he asked, glancing back at the net for a second.
"Yeah, you're really good," you nodded. "Are you a real team or somethin'?"
"No, god no," he laughed, "we just play for fun. Not many sandy beaches to play at in London."
"Oh, you're visiting from London? What part?"
"Southeast," he replied.
You nodded. "Oh…"
There wasn't much you could say to that because you didn't know anything about London; he chuckled, apparently realising just that. "I guess you're from around here?"
"Sort of— an hour down the way but, yes, I'm from Cornwall," you agreed.
“You’ve got an interesting accent,” he noticed with a smirk. “It’s cute, actually.”
“Oh, y’think?” you smiled shyly. “Always heard growing up that a Cornish accent made me sound like a dumb farmer or somethin’.”
“It works on you, though,” he decided.
"Oi! Come back and serve!" one of the boys by the net called, and your new friend turned his head around.
"Go on without me," he told them, tossing the ball over. "I'm talking to, er…"
He looked back at you, and you stammered out your name; he repeated it back to you with a smile.
"I'm Devon," he told you.
"Well, hi, Devon," you smiled.
Aaaaand, just in time, you heard Tom’s voice calling after you: “Birdie!” he shouted from down the beach, and you turned and sighed as you waved back.
In a moment, Tom was beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.
"Where'd you run off to, my lover?" Tommy asked with a tilted smile, but he didn't give you a chance to answer before he looked over at the other young man and back at you. "Who's the emmet?"
"My name's Devon, not Emmett," the Londoner corrected, and you hoped your polite laugh would break the tension.
"No, Devon, 'emmet' is Cornish," you explained. "It's what we call tourists."
Except, ‘incomer’ is what you call tourists. Emmet is what you call annoying tourists. And you knew Tom was annoyed by him because he was hitting on you.
"This your girl, then?" Devon asked Tom… a little straightforward, but that's just how Londoners are, maybe?
"What's it to you?" Tom wondered.
"Er—" you interjected immediately, "no, actually, Tom's just a friend," you coughed, knowing that even though it was a way to greet a good friend around here, Tom surely intended for it to be misinterpreted.
"Bloody hell. Can't tell what you people are saying," Devon grumbled, and you spoke up before Tom surely asked what 'you people' was supposed to mean.
"Anyways, point is— Tom and I are good friends, known each other since we were kids," you continued.
"Really?" Devon pressed.
“Yep," Tom replied with a beaming smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, "she’s been me best mate since we were wee babes,” he beamed.
“A bird’s your best mate?” Devon scoffed. “Sure you’re not bent?”
“I’m bent? You’re the one spendin’ all your time with a bunch of blokes with no shirts on, mate,” Tom defended.
Devon stepped forward and you had to jut yourself in between them to keep it from getting too heated. “Okay, lads, let’s settle down, then—”
“Be careful,” Tom warned Devon, and you jabbed him with your elbow as punishment.
“I said to stop it, alright?” you hissed at Tom. “Doesn’t matter, Tommy.”
“Yeah, Tommy,” Devon snickered, and you literally had to lean all your weight onto Tommy to keep him from trying to dive right over you to pummell the bellend.
"Let's go," you informed Tommy as you scoffed at Devon. Wrapping a hand around Tom's waist, you guided him to walk with you back down the beach, away from the possibility of a fight.
Tommy could find a fight anywhere— even on the beach on holiday. It was a real talent of his.
"You're horrible!" you whined as you punched Tom on his side.
"What did I do now?" he groaned.
"You scared that boy off, he was cute and he was flirting with me."
"Exactly!" Tommy emphasised, and you rolled your eyes. "He turned out to be a wanker, anyhow, you heard him making fun of our accent, didn't you?"
"I think he was just making fun of your accent," you frowned.
"We've got the same one," Tom noticed.
"Well— just stop doing that! You always do that."
"Sorry, birdie,” he shrugged, not seeming especially sorry.
You sighed and decided to let it go, because it wasn’t worth the argument. “What’s next, then? Think I’ve had enough of the beach.”
“Pub?” he suggested, and you laughed.
“Hardly late enough for that, don’t you think?” you snorted.
“Okay, dinner first, then pub,” he offered instead.
“That’s better.”
~
There were a few pubs along your walk back from dinner, but only one that had the rugby match on; so, of course, that was the one Tom picked. It was almost entirely empty when you came inside, and since the match had gone to commercial break, Tom decided now was the best time to run to the loo.
“Order me something?” he requested. “Whatever you’re getting.”
You nodded and he dashed off down a hallway. Sitting at the bar, currently unattended with no other patrons but yourself, you looked up at the telly on the wall and caught a couple seconds of a car commercial.
“Can I get you anything?”
The voice made you turn your head away from the telly, and you were surprised to find a boy your age on the other side of the bar.
“Oh, erm,” you choked, “just something on tap? M’not picky.”
“There’s a stout we brew right here in the neighbourhood,” he suggested, “you might like it.”
“Sure,” you shrugged, “and one for my friend.”
“Great,” he smiled, bending down below the bar and reappearing with two pint glasses in hand. You watched him as he tilted the glasses and filled them from the tape, admiring his tan skin and longer hair— he had that surfer look about him, in a Cornwall sort of way.
“Aren’t you a little young to be tending bar?” you noticed.
He laughed, revealing some dimples in the process. “And you’re one to talk?” he shot back.
“I’m old enough to be served, aren’t I?” you challenged.
“Well actually, I was gonna ask for your ID,” he admitted, “but, you’re cute, so I decided to let it slide.”
You looked down as he set your drink on the bar for you. “Thanks,” you hummed. You tried it, giving him a nod of approval when the taste hit your tongue— it was pretty mild, and sort of grapefruit-y somehow.
“In town for holiday?” he assumed.
“Yeah,” you nodded, and he clicked his tongue.
“Too bad,” he shook his head. “When are you going back home?”
“Thursday.”
“And where’s home?” he asked. “You sound local.”
“Yeah, I am,” you agreed, “about an hour north.”
“Liskeard?” he guessed, and you shook your head. “Launceston?”
“Closer,” you smiled.
“Bradworthy?”
“Oh, too far…”
“Holsworthy,” he grinned.
“Got it,” you nodded.
“Seems like it’d be easier to just drive up to Westward Ho! wouldn’t it?” he tilted his head.
“I try not to go anywhere that has an exclamation mark in the name,” you explained, and he chuckled a little.
“I guess that’s fair,” he shrugged, “and it’s a good thing you came here anyways.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because now I get to look at you,” he cooed.
You took a sip of the beer to hide your warming face. When you brought the glass back down, he laughed at you softly.
“Got some foam on your nose, my bird,” he warned you, reaching forward to wipe it off with his thumb.
“Oh, th-thanks,” you stammered, watching him put his thumb to his mouth and suck that bit of foam off while he kept looking at you. What a flirt! Do it again.
Tom came back from the washroom and sat on the stool next to yours, thanking you for ordering his beer for him before he took a large drink of it.
"O-oh," the bartender choked, and you knew that look— the ‘shit, you've got a boyfriend’ look.
You sighed. "Hey, um— this is my friend, Tom," you explained.
"Wasson?" Tom greeted him, nodding his head quickly in acknowledgement.
"Not much, mate," he replied, "Cade.”
“Tom,” he answered back as if he didn’t already know that, not going so far as to shake hands since Tom was holding his glass and Cade was holding a rag to wipe down the bar.
“She was just telling me you're only here for a spell,” Cade recalled, “which is a proper shame.”
You smiled shyly. “Oh, yeah, well, I wish our holiday could be longer, too.”
“Always the prettiest maids just here on holiday,” Cade nodded, looking at Tom. “You know how it is, don’t you? You’re from a holiday town, too, I heard.”
Not quite as popular as your current location, but yes, vacationers would occasionally appear in town. You’d never noticed this ‘girls visiting from up-country are prettier’ principle, but your eyes turned to Tom expectantly. “Uh, yeah,” Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I know how it is. And half of them have boyfriends back home.”
It made your heart sink a bit— what you would give to have one of those. Or to have Tommy say no, the prettiest bird’s right here with me now. Or both.
“But that doesn’t stop all of them,” he added with a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.
“You’re awful, Tommy,” you shoved him lightly.
“Yeah,” he agreed, licking his bottom lip.
Cade gestured at Tom’s rugby union shirt— “You play?” he asked.
“Yeah, sometimes,” Tom nodded, “you?”
“I just watch,” he shrugged, pointing at the telly in the corner. “Cooped up in this pub all the time, anyway.”
“That’s no excuse,” Tom chided, “gotta get out there and get roughed up!”
“That’s what surfing’s for,” Cade smirked.
“Okay, now I’m definitely not going,” you shook your head. “I don’t wanna get roughed up by the ocean!”
“I said I would teach her,” Tom informed Cade, “now look what you’ve done.”
“Sorry,” Cade laughed, “you’ll be fine, and you’ve come at just the right time of year for it.”
“That’s what I said!” Tom agreed.
Oh god, were they actually getting on alright? Would Tom give his approval, finally?
You sipped your stout and let them go on about rugby and football teams for a while, letting yourself get your hopes up that Tom would actually like a guy who liked you— and sure, he was a barkeep in your holiday spot, not exactly the foundation for a serious relationship, but it would be nice to have a little fling without worrying that Tom would end up beating him up.
Tom was the one who made fun of you sometimes for being a virgin, anyway. He never meant it— actually, when he occasionally took the time to be serious, he assured you better than anyone else that it was perfectly normal and fine to still be one. But still, you weren’t exactly trying to hang onto it much longer. Tom told you to wait for the right person; but you’d been waiting for him for way too long.
Watching the match together, you and Tom put down a few pints and laughed at some stupid old inside jokes— Cade tended to stick around, chatting with you both, when there weren’t other customers to serve. You caught him glancing at you a few times, and you liked how you felt when he looked at you like that— desirable, maybe even grown up. You and Tom had been friends since you were little, after all, and since he treated you the exact same way he always had, sometimes you still felt little around him. But you weren’t. It was good to remember that.
The match ended— Cornwall won, thank god, or you’d be babying Tom all night after he drowned his sorrows in something stronger than the local stout. He still drank a little too much to celebrate, but less too much.
Enough that he had to go to the loo again, though, at which point Cade was suddenly right by you again. “Your friend’s funny,” he smiled.
“Yeah,” you agreed, “he’s not always that loud, but, yeah, he’s never been very subtle.”
“And he’s just a friend?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yes,” you insisted, and you focused your tone on your annoyance and not your disappointment.
“Just checking!” Cade returned defensively. “How long have you known him?”
“My whole life,” you sighed. “Can’t remember a time without him. He’s just… always been there.”
Cade nodded. “That’s nice, wish I had a friend like that. People come and go a lot in a place like this.”
“I bet,” you offered sympathetically. “And your girlfriend? Does she come and go, or stick around?”
“What? I don’t have a girlfriend,” he frowned.
“Just checking,” you winked.
“Why, you think I should get one?” he raised an eyebrow.
You shrugged. “If you can find one…”
His eyes dragged over you, his smile fading slightly; you pretended not to be totally overwhelmed by it all.
“Cade!” a voice shouted from the back, and an older woman poked her head out of the kitchen as Cade turned his head. “Come back here an’ clean up!”
“I will, mum!” he called back, before returning his attention to you. “Listen, I’d better get back to work— but you could come by tomorrow? If you wanted.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think I’ll find the time.”
“Tom can come too, of course,” he added, leaning closer to you on the bar, “but… I’d rather have some time alone with you, if that’s alright.”
Reaching up to scratch your shoulder, you bit your lip to hide a smile. “Okay, yeah—” you set your hands back down on the bar when you saw the way he was looking at you, “yeah, I’d like that, too. I’m sure Tommy can find some way to entertain himself for an hour.”
Cade’s hand landed on yours suddenly, giving it a quick squeeze while he winked at you. And then he threw the rag over his shoulder and disappeared into the back. You pursed your lips and exhaled through them; it had been a while since you had butterflies like that.
Tom came back around the corner, leaning beside you on the wooden bar, and you giggled when you saw how red his nose had gotten from the booze. “Tommy, you look like you’ve stuck your face in blusher,” you noticed.
“Aw, really?” he scrunched up his nose, wiping it with his hand.
“You can’t wipe it off!” you laughed harder. “Cade’s gone to the back to work— wanna go on a walk, take a geek at the rest of the neighbourhood?”
“Sure,” he agreed, letting you take his hand and pull him along with you out the door and around the pavement. You walked in silence for a few moments, glancing at him once, before you just had to bring it up.
“So, Cade was nice…” you trailed off. You looked at Tom expectantly, wearing a hopeful smile, but you hadn't even said anything yet before he expressed his dissent.
“No, no way,” he shook his head, ignoring your protests, “not good enough for you.”
“What? Tommy, what’s wrong with him?”
“What’s wrong with him?” Tom repeated. “Birdie, what’s right with him?”
“I thought you liked him!” you whined. “He was so nice to you, and you talked rugby for ages!”
“Was looking at you funny,” he shuddered.
“Well, I’d hope so,” you rolled your eyes, “doesn’t that mean he’s interested?”
“That’s what you want, creepy guys drooling all over you?” Tom snorted. “Come on, let’s go— I don’t want you seeing that sod again.”
You groaned, but let him drape his arm over your shoulders and guide you away. “You shouldn’t be so protective, Tom… this is why everyone thinks you’re either my brother or my boyfriend.”
“If it keeps the boys away from you, I don’t care what they think,” he decided. You rolled your eyes as he pulled your head down with his arm, enough that he could plant a kiss on top of your head. “There, now they’ll think I’m your boyfriend, how about that?”
“You kiss me all the time,” you laughed.
“Eh?”
“On the head,” you clarified. “You give me kisses on the head, doesn’t make you my boyfriend.”
“Guess not,” he agreed.
Halfway along your walk, you passed a park which Tom decided would be the perfect place to share a cigarette— actually, he was just going to smoke it himself, but you made him share.
“Remember your sixth birthday party?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, after a drag. “You tripped and sprained your ankle running in the backyard that day, but you stopped crying when we gave you your presents.”
You laughed at the memory. “God, I barely remember— but yeah.”
He handed the cigarette to you and you rested it between your lips. “Do you remember what I got you?” he continued.
“A Barbie,” you recalled, “wasn’t it? She was some little princess or something, can’t remember now.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, I want you to know that before I gave her to you, I took her out of the box and took her clothes off.”
“What?!” you snorted, making a cloud of smoke
“I had to know!” he laughed. “I put them back on and put her back in the box and everything first before I gave her to you.”
“Yeah, I think I would remember getting a naked Barbie, Tom,” you scoffed, and he carefully plucked the cigarette from your fingers and took it back.
“Right, well—” he stopped to inhale, and then let it out as he continued— “she had plastic panties on anyway. Wasn’t worth it,” he shook his head.
You dropped your forehead into your palm. “The fuck are you talking about?” you giggled.
“Just that time of night where you feel like confessing things, I guess,” he shrugged.
“Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?” you pressed. “Any other childhood toys of mine that you violated?”
“Took a geek up the skirt of a Cabbage Patch Kid or two,” he added, “but that’s about it.”
“Well, we all did that,” you rolled your eyes, and he grinned at you.
“Oh, I knew it,” he purred, “I think you were just as much of a pervert as I was.”
“Yeah? But you’re still a pervert,” you accused.
“Maybe,” he relented, “but at least I’m not a prude.”
You looked away quickly. “M’not a prude, Tommy…”
“I know, I know,” he soothed, handing you the last quarter of the cigarette, “you’re just picky. And you should be.”
He suddenly laid his head down on your lap, making you tense up a little bit and wonder where you were supposed to put your hands.
“Nobody deserves you anyway,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as he adjusted himself to get comfortable on the bench.
“Well, that doesn’t really solve my problem, does it?” you said, speaking a little quieter.
“What’s the problem?” he wondered sleepily.
You sighed, holding the cigarette in your mouth as you reached down and carded your fingers through his hair. He hummed and smiled a little. “Nothing,” you dismissed, and he started to breathe slower and slower.
You finished the cigarette over the course of the next however-long-it-had-been, absent-mindedly touching his head and playing with his hair, and only noticed that Tom had dozed off when you felt a wet patch under his mouth on your legs.
“Eww, Tommy!” you whined, shoving him off of you as he tried to wake up. “When I said I wanted guys to drool over me, this is not what I meant.”
“Sorry, love,” he laughed, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Think that’s our cue to go back to the room and go to bed, eh?”
~
He didn’t say anything before he got in the shower, so you didn’t know what to expect when he got out: was he going to suddenly realise there was only one bed? Had he already and just didn’t care? Were you supposed to protest, or act like it was no big deal, or what?
When he emerged from the steamy bathroom in his pyjamas— aka, just his fuzzy plaid trousers, the ever-present friendship bracelet, and the chain on his neck— he found you standing in the middle of the room, staring at the singular bed, and gave you a confused look.
“I guess you saw when you brought our bags up,” you mumbled nervously.
“Eh?”
“The bed.” You motioned towards it, and he wrinkled his eyebrows together.
“What about it?” he shrugged.
“There’s only one of it!”
“Oh,” he nodded, “yeah, guess so.”
“So, we’ll have to share,” you helped him reach the obvious conclusion.
“Oh,” he said again, “you think it’ll be weird?”
“I mean, I figure,” you shrugged.
“I’ll take the couch,” he insisted.
“No, Tommy, let me,” you pleaded.
“You jokin’? I’m supposed to let a maid sleep on the couch?”
“Didn’t realise you were such a gentleman,” you frowned, crossing your arms.
“Aren’t I?” he smirked.
You felt bad about it, but he was already putting a spare sheet down on the sofa while you were getting through your nighttime routine. Leaning out of the bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you caught a glimpse of him laying there on the couch with one arm up behind his head and the other holding the book he’d been reading as of late— one of those fantasy novels that were much too violent for you. He looked past the top of it to smile at you, and you popped back in to wrap up.
You were just wearing a baggy old t-shirt that was just long enough on you to cover your red panties, which you felt mostly not-weird about wearing around Tom, though walking past him to get to bed made you shiver a little bit.
“G’night,” he offered.
“You too,” you replied quietly, and he reached up above his head to switch off the lamp.
Sure, it was you who had worried about the whole bed-sharing thing in the first place, but that was only because you were pre-emptively worrying that he would worry about it. It was sort of a lose-lose: if he was against it, then you’d feel dejected, but if he was fine with it, it was another way for him to rub it in that you could hold him but never have him.
Still, now that you were alone in this big old bed, you couldn’t help but think that at least it was nice you could hold him… but he was all the way over there.
You chewed your lip, trying to stay quiet. You made it about thirty seconds. “Tommy?”
“Yeah?”
“Think you’ll fall asleep alright on that?” you wondered.
“Should be asleep in a couple minutes, once you’re quiet,” he replied.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mumbled. You made it a whole minute before you spoke again. “Tommyyyyy,” you whined.
“What!” he snapped.
“I can’t sleep, I feel too bad!” you pouted. “Just get in the bed? We fall asleep together all the time! What’s the difference?”
“Difference is it’s all night,” he explained, “haven’t done that since we were eight— and you kicked me in your sleep!”
“Are you seriously going to sleep on that musty old sofa, and leave me alone here in the king bed, just because you’re still mad at me for kicking you?”
“Not just that,” he mumbled, “you snore, too.”
“Shut up,” you groaned, “just come over, won’t you? I’m cold anyways…”
He paused as he considered it. “There’s room for me?”
“Tons,” you promised.
You heard him throw the blanket off of himself, and you smiled instantly. In a moment, he was diving into the bed, and you laughed as the mattress creaked; he laid next to you on his back, and you reached an arm around his torso while setting your head on his shoulder.
He smelled so good after his shower, clean and woodsy from his deodorant, and his curls held their shape despite being wet still.
“Should’ve known you’d be like a barnacle soon as I got in here,” he chuckled.
“I said I was cold,” you reminded him, hugging his waist tighter.
“Night, birdie,” he whispered after he kissed the top of your head. With him holding you, you were asleep in an instant.
It was one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly, like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes. You would’ve thought it was still the middle of the night when you woke up, if it weren’t for the sun coming in through the open window.
Specifically, you woke up because of a long sigh right by your ear, making you blink your eyes open quickly and start to stretch your legs out under the sheet and blanket. You were on your side, and Tommy was pressed right up on your back, his arm draped around your torso.
He sighed again, and you felt him shift around against you. Most importantly, you felt something hard and hot on your lower back. Eyes going wide, you jolted as you felt him rock his hips against you again.
"Tommy," you whispered, hoping to wake him up.
"Mm," he hummed, smiling against your neck, and you shuddered.
"Tommy!" you hissed, and he snorted as he woke up suddenly.
He pulled back and all but jumped away from you. “Shit, I—” he mumbled, sitting up as the bed creaked; god, his face was so red, he looked adorably flustered and a bit terrified. “I’m sorry, birdie, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”
“It’s okay, Tommy,” you insisted, sitting up with him, “it’s not a big deal.”
“What’d you say? It’s not big?” he choked.
“No! Tommy, it’s—” you stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say then. “I know that happens to guys in the mornings…”
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously, “happens when we’re in bed with pretty girls, too…”
Before you could wonder if there was something to read into there, he spoke again.
“I’m fucked,” he groaned, running his hand down over his face, “what’s the time?”
“Ten ‘til 9,” you informed him following a glance at the clock on the nightstand.
“We’ve got that breakfast soon, we’re supposed to meet downstairs in five minutes,” he recalled. “And I can’t get dressed ‘til he’s gone away.”
“How do you normally get rid of it?” you wondered, watching him look at you for a second before looking away again.
“Well…” he trailed off, clearing his throat.
“Well?” you pressed.
“Y-y’know,” he stammered, “it’s— er— fuckin’ hell, birdie, can’t say it with you lookin’ at me like that…”
“C’mon, Tommy, I know you wank off,” you rolled your eyes, “you and every other bloke on the planet.”
“But I can’t do it with you here!” he yelped, and a pang of self-consciousness hit your chest. Were you that horrible of a sight that he wouldn’t be able to finish with you nearby?
“I-I’ll leave then, give you some space,” you offered.
“Birdie, I’ll know you’re just outside the door, that’s not gonna help,” he frowned.
“Well shit, Tommy, where’dya want me to go? Fuckin’ Launceston?”
“No, shit, that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, reaching up and covering his face as he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “You’ve just got me all messed up— s’not your fault, I mean! I just don’t know what m’gonna do now…”
You bit your lip, glancing over at the flowery wallpaper on the opposite side of the room, then to the window and its view out over the beach. “I mean, maybe… maybe if it would help, I could…”
“Jesus, birdie, don’t say you’re gonna wank me off or somethin’,” he pleaded with a concerned tilt of his head, and you stammered as you tried to remember what you were going to say.
“No, I— I was gonna say you could…” you began again, “er— I mean, before, while you were asleep, you were… it was…”
“What?” he pressed, leaning a little closer to you, and you chickened out.
“Nevermind, sorry,” you shook your head, “you should just get dressed— nobody’ll notice it.”
That was a lie: if it looked as big as it felt, a family of four could go camping under the tent in his shorts at this point. “No, c’mon,” he pleaded, scooting a little closer to you, “won’t make fun of you or nothin’, just wanna know what you were gonna say. You know I can’t run down to breakfast with my willy tryin’ to jump out, yeah? Like, ‘hey mum an’ dads, pass me the eggs, then— don’t mind my fuckin’ blood sausage under the table—’”
You laughed, pushing him on the chest— but he just moved closer, again, looking right at your face. You felt oddly exposed to him, even though he should’ve been the one feeling like that considering the circumstances. “Fine,” you relented, “I was just… thought maybe you could— well, it could help you if you, um… just… pressed up against me, again? Like you were before? And you could, er…”
Dropping your voice to a mumble just above a whisper, you watched your hands clutch the spotted quilt in lieu of meeting his invasive stare.
“You could… grind on me, a bit,” you finally completed, so quiet that you barely heard yourself. But he was a few inches away— he must’ve heard you. Literally, he must have, because you couldn’t say it again.
“Eh?” he grunted, and you rolled your eyes.
“C’mon, Tommy, you’re not deaf, are you?”
“No, m’just… you wan’ me to rub me stiffy on you?” he realised, tilting his chin down and raising an eyebrow. Leave it to Tommy to throw all the subtlety to the wind and just say it outright like that, ignorant to the way it made your cheeks burn and your throat catch.
“I-I mean, I don’t want you to,” you denied quickly, “I just thought it might go away if you did. Means to an end, right?”
“Yeah, means to an end,” he agreed, clearing his throat. “Just feel a little weird about it, birdie, I mean… it’s you. You know I love ya— don’t wanna be rude to you or, er, disrespectful—”
“It’s not,” you promised, “I’m offering— and it’ll be quick, right?”
“Er, yeah,” he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck again, “should be…”
“Okay, then, should we?” you asked, sheepishly raising your eyebrows as you looked at him.
“I mean, fuck, birdie,” he laughed nervously, “I think you know we shouldn’t.”
But you both already knew that you were going to, and the thrill of something so forbidden titillated you further.
“Lay down then, yeah?” he instructed you softly, and you turned back onto your side as you felt him press up to your back. His arm slipped around your front, the one with your bracelet on his wrist, and you could feel him breathing by the back of your neck as he brushed your hair out of the way. “This alright?”
You nodded, and he held you a little tighter; you felt it then, brushing up against your lower back. You were getting sweaty from how warm it was with him pressed up on you under the thick covers, yet you still shivered.
He hummed quietly, his hand moving down your hips so he could hold you steady. And he rocked into you again, more confidently, a shaky breath falling from his lips.
When his forehead rested against the back of your shoulder, you felt your back arch slightly; and then you could feel the ridge under the head of his cock, you could feel it when he moved in one, long stroke and you bit your lip, arching your back deeper.
“Shit,” he grunted quietly, and he started to move a little faster right after he said that.
After just a minute or less of that, you were beyond desperate to have him inside you, you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like— about how he would stretch you open, how he would moan for you as he filled you to the brim. If he wanted to, right now, he could just lift up your shirt a bit and pull your panties down without saying anything, slip inside you in one go; you were soaking wet, he’d slide in so easily…
“Fuck, birdie,” he breathed, “roll over.”
His verbal command was a bit moot, since his hand was already on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lay on your back. He hovered above you for a moment, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered; you’d only been waiting years for him to say that to you. You did it unquestioningly, and he slotted himself between them with a low groan. When he pressed his cock up against your aching cunt— through so many frustrating layers of pyjamas— he shut his eyes and tossed his head back for a second. It was so perfect, his face in bliss like that, the morning sun peeking in through the curtains and making his curls shine golden-blonde. He looked fucking beautiful.
A little gasp jumped in your mouth as he started to thrust against you again, each stroke of his hips rubbing right over your clit and making his chain dangle over your face. You almost felt guilty, for a second, with the little engraving of Saint Thomas right there, like he was watching you do this. “Sh-shit, Tommy…” you hissed, catching yourself before you moaned aloud when he rocked his hip harder against you and your whole pussy clenched. If only he could feel that now— if only he could feel around his cock how desperately you needed him.
He descended down upon you, burying his face in your neck. His hair tickled your cheek, and you fisted at the sheets to stop yourself from reaching up and holding onto him— that would be too much, too needy, right? It was just supposed to be a means to an end, after all. “Can I kiss you here?” he asked under his breath.
“Er, why would you do that?” you wondered.
“Just— thought it might make it go faster,” he justified.
“Y-yeah, Tommy, s’fine,” you nodded. Do whatever you want to me.
He latched on right away, a mess of lips and tongue and teeth all over your neck; everything in you fought to keep your moans down, because you didn’t want him to know how much you loved this, how close you were to coming without even doing anything… without even taking your clothes off!
“Are you close?” you asked him softly, feeling him nod.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, and his heavy breathing cooled your skin where it was still wet with his spit. “Just a little longer?”
“You’re not gonna give me a hickey, are you?” you whispered.
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he replied.
“Just— make it quick, Tommy, we’ve gotta be downstairs soon,” you reminded him.
“Right, yeah, m’gonna come,” he promised, sending another chill over your body. One of his hands moved down, holding your thigh as he thrusted faster and faster— fuck, the headboard was about to hit the wall. Just as you looked up to see it slam once, you saw his free hand reach up and grab onto it tightly, blocking the impact with his knuckles.
“Tommy,” you breathed, an involuntary reaction to how deliberately sexy that was.
“Say it again,” he requested quietly.
“Tommy,” you repeated, and he grunted right against your ear— he didn’t stop moving entirely, just slowed down quite a bit as he rutted on you.
“Fuck,” he sighed, panting. You swallowed, feeling wonderfully strange knowing that must be it, that he just came— because of you. His weight sank down onto you, making you let out a little squeal from the air rushing out of your lungs, and he laughed quietly. “Sorry,” he mumbled, lifting himself up and hovering above you again, “didn’t mean to crush you…”
“S’all fine, Tom,” you promised, closing your legs as soon as you had the chance— before he could see that you’d soaked through your panties.
“Oh, ‘Tom’, eh? Gettin’ formal, are we?” he grinned. “Now that you’ve got me to bust in me trousers, we’re not so friendly anymore?”
“Shut up,” you laughed as you pushed him aside, swinging your legs off the bed so you could get up. “Gonna use the loo and then I’ll get dressed.”
“What?!” he croaked. “You kidding? Of course I get to use the loo first!”
“Not if I get there before you,” you challenged, jumping up and trying to race him across the hotel room. He beat you, but only by playing dirty— he ran up behind you and grabbed you, spinning you around as you kicked and laughed and squirmed in his grasp.
two weeks later
Moonshine on the bay had become a tradition on nights like this, when the warmth of summer was creeping around the corner, ever since you were both fifteen and in desperate need of some rebellion. Now, without the illegality and all, it had lost some of that titillating appeal, but you still loved going out so late and meeting him at your secret spot. It had the perfect view of the water at night, not that it was a particularly scenic section of the sea since it was mostly cargo ships and docks and all that, but under the flickering old street lamp and the tall field elms, it was almost romantic.
Tommy was currently still standing while you leaned back on your hands, brandishing the liquor he’d secured for the evening. “For you,” he offered you the opened bottle with a smile, and you took it, but waited for him to take a sip of his first. He did, and you saw his lips curling as he drank.
“How is it?” you asked, and he stopped drinking to cough a bit.
“It’s hangin’!” he grimaced. “But it’ll do the job.”
You took a sip while he sat down next to you, and made a face of your own. “Ah fuck! That’s terrible! Where the fuck’d you get this?”
But you knew what he meant when he said it would do the job— one sip was already warming your chest, and the next, though just as disgusting as the last, made you feel tingly at the tips of your fingers.
With your bottles halfway finished, you two sat up in the grass and watched the lights of ships go by slowly in the night. “Had a date last night,” you blurted out suddenly, just to make conversation.
“Really? With who?”
“You remember Jack Meyer?”
“God, I wish I didn’t,” he sneered, “what a knob.”
“Could you stop insulting all the guys I go out with?” you frowned.
“Stop going out with knobs and I will,” he bargained.
“Anyways, he was nice,” you announced firmly. “Took me to the cinema and bought me a popcorn.”
“What size?” he asked.
“Medium.”
“Cheap bastard,” Tom grumbled.
“Shut up! I’m trying to tell you that it was a nice date!” you yelped, pushing him on the shoulder. “We actually, um… well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”
“What?” he wondered.
“I mean, I tell you everything— you tell me everything. You told me when Sharon Caldwell let you feel her tits in eighth grade, and you told me when you lost it to Annie— what was her name again?”
“Annie Shaw,” he finished for you.
“Right… so, point is, I figured I should tell you what happened with me and Jack, right?” you wondered. When you found the courage to look over at Tommy, his expression was… intense. Almost angry, a little terrified.
“Don’t tell me you gave it up to him,” he pleaded, leaning in a little closer.
“God no! I just wanked him a bit.”
"You did what to 'im?!" Tommy yelped.
"W-well, I dunno!" you backpedalled quickly.
“Aw, birdie, you can do so much better than him,” he groaned.
“Okay, maybe so, but he’s the one I wanted to go out with. And he was nice and he made me feel— I dunno, pretty?” you mumbled, afraid to sound too girlish.
“Come on, you can’t go rubbing off any guy who calls you pretty,” Tom scolded.
“This isn’t just any guy!”
“Yeah, it’s Jack Meyer. In fourth year he swallowed a penny and it never came out!”
“Believe it or not, Tommy, it's not fourth year anymore,” you frowned. “Things are different. We’re older. I’m not a little kid— and I’m tired of being treated like one!”
He sighed slowly, taking another swig of the booze. “I guess that’s fair,” he relented. “Still… can’t stand thinking about you doing that to some guy.”
"Why?"
He seemed confused by your question, and gave you a look.
"Why can't you stand thinking about it?" you interrogated.
"I… I don't know…" He coughed a bit, clearly wanting to change the subject, but you kept staring at him as you waited for an answer. “I guess it’s just that,” he began again, “I worry because it’s Jack, you know? He’s a little aggressive with girls— or, he was back when I knew him. He didn’t… pressure you into it, right?”
You thought back to the night before, and how it all happened. “Erm, no,” you decided, “not really.”
“Not really? What’s that mean?”
“Well, he didn’t make me do it,” you explained, “but he was… showing me how, ‘cause I didn’t know.”
“Sh-showing you?” Tom repeated.
“He, erm, he took my hand,” you remembered, feeling your heart start to race as you looked at Tom closely. “And he put it… he put it right here.”
It was the liquor that made you do it; you pressed your hand up to the front of his trousers, feeling him getting firmer under your touch already. He jumped a little but didn’t stop you.
"He told me to take it out for him…" you continued, voice wavering as your whole body was suddenly shivering from nervousness, and started to open his trousers yourself.
“Birdie,” Tom gasped, and you looked up to his face again.
“Do you want me to stop?” you asked him point blank. He didn’t say anything. “Can I keep going?”
His mouth was open slightly, and he was breathing heavily through it; he nodded. You unzipped his fly and reached in, navigating the opening of his boxers to get his cock out.
Of course, you’d felt it before, but you’d never seen it. It was as beautiful as a cock could be, you thought: tanner than the rest of him for some reason, flushed at the tip, still just starting to poke out from his foreskin with a teal vein running up under your palm. Biting your lip, you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around it. “H-he told me to stroke it, like this,” you stammered, moving your hand gently and slowly from the base to the tip and back— then again, and again.
Daring to glance up at Tom’s face again, you saw him watching your hand with a dumbstruck expression. You twisted your hand slightly as you reached the tip and he groaned. "Birdie…" he sighed— his voice wore some impossible mixture of arousal, confusion, scolding, disappointment, and desperation. It made your knees weak. Good thing you were still kneeling on the ground, so it didn’t make much difference. You were so sloshed that standing up would’ve been a bit of an effort, anyway.
“When I was doing it right,” you continued, “he’d tell me I was bein’ good for him… it made me feel weird when he said that, but good. You know?”
“Y-yeah…” he choked, hissing through his teeth.
It went on that way for a little while, just his panting and the crickets chirping; though there was clear fluid leaking from the tip of his cock, you thought it might not be enough, so you pursed your lips and let your spit dribble down onto him so you could spread it out with your hand.
“Christ,” he groaned, “Jack taught you that, too?”
You nodded, and he growled a little— the sound made your chest tighten up (as well as a few other places). His cock was starting to bob against your grip, and his breathing was faster and heavier with each stroke. "You're close?" you noticed, and he nodded, chest heaving as he stared down at what you were doing to him. "You can come, Tom. I want you to."
"Shit," he hissed. "Shit, jus' don't stop then."
And you didn't, in fact you moved your hand even faster, until it was just a blur and he was bucking up into your palm desperately.
"Ah, fuck!" he gasped, and come started to spurt from his pulsing cock, landing on his shirt and your hand. "Fuck…"
You watched his face as it tilted back, his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth parted in a little moan. Your hand was still moving, and his jumped up to grab your wrist and stop you. Then it was still, and silent, except for him breathing like he'd just run a marathon.
After a moment, he tilted his head down again and came back to reality; he instantly looked mortified. "God, birdie," he choked, "I made a mess on you— m'so sorry, let me get it…"
He tried to wipe the come away with his shirt, frantically cleaning your hand up as best he could. "It's fine, Tommy," you giggled.
"No it isn't, I've got your pretty hand all dirty now…"
Examining his focused expression as he wiped up the smears of come, you bit your lip slightly. You did feel guilty for making up that whole story about a date with Jack Meyer that never did— and never would— happen, but it worked. You’d never lied to Tommy like that before, but you decided to blame it on the liquor and not your desperation.
In the two weeks since your holiday, nothing untoward whatsoever had happened between you and it was driving you crazy. You didn’t even talk about it! You, of course, thought about it every day— well, really every night, when you touched yourself and tried to remember exactly how his voice sounded in your ear. That was what drove you to this, to getting drunk and making shit up for a chance to touch him.
"Kiss me," you said suddenly. He looked up at your face, and you just stared at each other for a second.
His hand dropped yours— it was clean now, or clean enough at least— and moved up to hold your face. You sighed slightly; his thumb stroked your cheek and he smiled at you.
He gently tilted your head down and met you halfway, pressing his lips to your forehead. Your chest deflated and your eyes fell shut. So this is what heartbreak feels like. It's not as bad as I thought.
"That better?" he asked as he pulled back, moving his own face down so he could look up at you with a tender smile. You nodded, willing yourself not to cry in front of him now.
You were throwing yourself at him and he was throwing you away. "We'll always be friends, won't we?" you asked quietly.
"Aw, birdie— of course," he cooed, pulling you into a hug. You clutched at his shoulders, digging your nails into handfuls of his ratty old Nirvana t-shirt.
He rolled back onto the grass and pulled you down with him, making you laugh and try to get away— but he wouldn't let you go.
"We'll always be friends," he promised again, "'cause otherwise who'd keep all those awful boys away from you?"
"Shut up," you rolled your eyes.
"I will," he sighed, relaxing his grip on you slightly. "I'm gonna ease up on you, I think. Let you date somebody if you want— even if he's a tosser. 'Cause you're right, you're not a little kid anymore. And it's not fair to you."
You swallowed, laying your head on his chest. You'd never actually wanted him to let you date someone else… you just wanted him to finally love you back. But maybe this was the best you were going to get.
~
“Go, Tommy!” you cheered from the side of the pitch, though he surely couldn’t hear you through all that.. rugby-ing. Rugbing?
Whatever— point is, you clapped and hollered anyways as you watched him run all over the place, narrowly dodging being tackled a few times. You winced when he got taken down from the side by one of the biggest guys out there. Tommy had a high pain tolerance, but you’d rather not see him lose a tooth or something. What a waste of a perfect smile that would be.
For all their efforts, Tommy’s team lost by just a few points; it was just a scrimmage, hence why there was basically no one else here but you and the actual team members, so you hoped he wouldn’t be pouty the rest of the day after losing. He didn’t seem to be, from what you could tell this far away— he was shaking hands and bumping fists, sweaty and streaked with dirt and grass as he chugged from his water bottle. It really should not have been as attractive as it was…
Before you got caught ogling, someone caught your attention: “Hey,” one of the players jogged up to you, and you blinked up at him blankly, not sure who he was. You’d definitely seen him before, you remembered his dreads and… overall massiveness. But you weren’t sure what he was talking to you for. “You’re here with Tom, yeah?”
“Oh, yes,” you smiled.
“He said you’re an old mate of his,” the player went on.
“Mhm,” you nodded.
“Sweet of you to come cheer him on,” he laughed, “even though it didn’t seem to do him much good today.”
You shrugged. “He loses a lot, but he always gets back up.”
“I’m Rhys, by the way,” he offered. “I’d shake your hand or somethin’, but I’m pretty filthy at the moment.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed. “Surprised you haven’t gone to the showers already, that’d be the first thing I’d be doing after getting that sweaty.”
“Well, I was gonna,” he explained, “but, well, I was afraid you’d be gone before I got back.”
You raised an eyebrow, wondering what that meant, and he continued on.
“Listen, I asked Tom, but I figured I should ask you… er…” he stalled as he smiled nervously. “Have you got a boyfriend or anythin’?”
“Er, no,” you answered.
“Issuh?” he laughed.
“Yes!” you insisted. “You think I’m lying or something?”
“I think it’s a little too good to be true, that’s all,” he explained. “Girl like you shouldn’t stay single too long.”
You kept waiting for Tommy to come ruin it— to come rescue you. You glanced over, and you saw him look back at you, but he just smiled and kept working on the laces of his cleats.
“So, I guess I should ask for your number before it’s too late, yeah?” Rhys continued. You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up at him and dropping your mouth open as you hoped for some words to come out.
“Oh! Erm,” you began, “well—”
“It’s okay if not,” he promised, “but, you know… I’d like it. So I can call you sometime or something— maybe I’ll have worked up the nerve to ask you out by then.”
Your cheeks were warm, but so were the backs of your eyes. You never thought you would miss it, Tom running up and putting his arm around you, shooting whatever guy you were talking to a glare that made everyone feel uncomfortable; you glanced over at him again, watching him chat and laugh with some of the other guys. He was just going to let this happen, wasn’t he? And so were you. “Yeah,” you finally blurted out, “sure— got your phone now? I’ll put it in for you.”
“Great,” he smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to you. “Wow, that went surprisingly well.”
“Are you that surprised?” you laughed as you added yourself as a contact.
“These things don’t normally go right for me,” he explained.
“For you?” you glanced up at him incredulously.
“Now, don’t give me an ego,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him.
You quickly held his phone up to take a selfie with your tongue sticking out, adding it as your contact photo. “There you go,” you handed it back to him, and he looked at it with a wide smile on his face.
“Aw, that’s rich,” he said, and you bit your lip. “I really should hit the showers now, but, I’ll call you?”
“Okay,” you smiled, “I’ll answer. Probably.”
He waved at you as he left, looking down at your contact in his phone one more time with a shake of his head, before disappearing into the little tunnel through the stands.
You told Tom you would wait for him until he was all done, but god, he was taking forever getting cleaned up. In fact, everyone else had left when he finally came out in his change of clothes and found you leaning against the cement wall outside the practice facility. “Fuck took you so long?” you groaned as he appeared.
“You know how long it takes to wash off after a match like that?” he laughed. “You wouldn’t have walked home with me in the state I was in.”
“Okay, fair enough,” you sighed, “can we go now?”
“Well, um— actually, I have to get my bag from the locker room…”
“Oh my god,” you whined.
“Don’t get teazy, I just have to pack up all my gear,” he scolded.
“I’m coming with you,” you insisted, “and helping you carry it so we can get fuckin’ home already.”
“Fine, fine,” he laughed, starting back as you followed along with him. “Lucky for you, it’s empty.”
“Aw,” you faked a pout, “no sexy rugby boys to look at?”
“Just me,” he smiled— and fuck, he was joking, but it scared you for a second.
There was a little awkward pause while he guided you around the bend into the locker area, left surprisingly clean after the boys were finished; it was only Tom’s locker open, with his things all strewn about, and you sighed. “Look at the mess you made…” you breathed, starting to help him clean it up and get his things together.
“Rhys finally asked you out, then?” Tommy grinned, elbowing you lightly.
“O-oh, yeah,” you breathed, “erm, well— he just got my number, no date yet or anything.”
“Well, it’s a start. I didn’t want to give him your number for you, but he asked me for it— actually, he’s asked about you a couple times now.”
“You think he’s good enough for me?” you asked.
“I mean, I dunno,” Tommy shrugged, “I don’t know him that well. But he seems nice enough— figure you can decide the rest.”
You sighed, nodding a little.
“If he tries anything, though, you let me know and I’ll set him straight, alright?” he added, and you laughed.
“Alright, I will,” you agreed, kneeling down to get some of his clothes from off the floor and stuff them into the duffel. “Not sure how you’re gonna do that when he’s got a metre on you and maybe twenty pounds of muscle—”
“Shut up,” Tom scoffed. “You know I can take any guy down if it’s got to do with you.”
Your throat caught, and you stood up again. "Tommy, listen, I actually— I wanted to… talk to you."
He cleared his throat, looking nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah? You're all good, right? Everythin's okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," you nodded, leaning back against the lockers, "I just… I was thinking about you."
He stepped up closer to you, close enough that your heart started to race. "Oh… what about me?"
"Well, about us," you clarified, "you and me— I want… erm…"
"Hm?"
"I just— you know how we sometimes…?"
He leaned his head in a little closer, waiting with raised eyebrows for you to get to your point.
"That thing we do, sometimes?" you started again. "I wanna… do it again."
He nodded, like he understood, but then paused and moved his mouth over to the side. "You wanna go to the cinema?"
You laughed, more out of frustration than amusement, and tilted your head forward to rest on his chest. "God, Tommy…"
"What?" he laughed.
"I— I want—"
You couldn't look up at him as you said it. You took a deep breath and tried to compose your bravery.
"I want us to touch each other again," you finally rushed out. You waited for him to say something, or do something, but he didn't. “Like when we were on holiday,” you recalled, toying with the hem of his shirt. “And that night on the bay…”
“God, birdie, I— I dunno if I can do that again,” he breathed, and you felt your eyes start to burn a bit.
“Really, Tommy?” you sighed. “I’m that… repulsive? Or is it Rhys? ‘Cause all he’s done is get my number—”
“N-no,” he groaned, “shit, m’not makin’ any sense. I can’t do that again with you because it’s too hard, okay?”
You looked up at him, knitting your eyebrows together. “What’s too hard?”
“Touchin’ you like that,” he whispered— even now, the way he said made your spine tingle— glancing down from your eyes to your lips and back, “and havin’ to act normal again. Not bein’ your boyfriend.”
Of everything you thought he might say then, you never expected that. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, even when you bit your bottom lip. A laugh broke out through your grin, and you had to cover your mouth to try to hide it.
“Jesus, you’re laughin’ at me now!” he lamented. “I finally tell you and you laugh at me! You’re heartless, you know that?”
“No, Tommy, v’got a heart— and it’s all yours,” you promised, standing up on your toes to peck him on the cheek. He gave you a confused look, and you laughed again. “You don’t get it do you, still? I’ve fancied you for ages— proper in love with you, really. Kept askin’ you to do all that stuff ‘cause, well, you’re all I think about anyways. Thought you were just doing me favours.”
After a pause, he finally laughed with you. “Am I a fuckin’ idiot, then? You’ve had it goin’ for me all this time and I didn’t notice?”
“You’re a little stupid,” you mitigated. “I think I was being pretty obvious.”
“Yeah, and what about me?” he noticed. “I’ve been all over you forever— kissin’ and huggin’ you, cuddling all the time— you didn’t notice that I think you’re fit?”
You shrugged. "You've always been like that."
"Yeah!" he emphasised.
"Ohhhh," you nodded, "hm. Okay, we're both a little stupid."
“Birdie,” he smiled, and your heart melted, because he’d never said it quite like that before. He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.
“You can really kiss me, you know,” you told him, and he pulled away just enough to look at you with an impossible-to-read expression. “I-if you want,” you mitigated suddenly, and he smiled at you, then laughed.
“Aw, fuck, Tommy,” you turned your head to the side, “you’re awful…”
He put his hand on the side of your face, gently turning you to look at him. “Yeah,” he agreed. And then he moved in closer and kissed you— properly, finally. You shut your eyes, your chest emptying with a sigh; his other hand held your face then, too, and you reached up to hold his wrists. Your right hand felt the worn-out old bracelet that he still wore, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit against him. He smiled, too.
“Tommy,” you sighed, reaching out and grabbing him by his belt to pull him closer. He pressed his forehead on yours, looking down at your hands working on the buckle shakily.
“Birdie, c’mon,” he gasped, “not here—”
You pouted a little, and he laughed.
“We waited all this time and you can’t wait until we get home?”
“Yes!” you whined. “I need you…”
“Shit,” he groaned, kissing you again— but just for a few very passionate seconds before he pulled back once more. “We’ll go home and I’ll do this right, I swear.”
“Why can’t we just do it here?” you wondered.
“Because if you told me some guy had taken your virginity in a rugby practice field locker room, I would kill him,” Tom frowned.
You laughed. “Fine, fine… let’s go home.”
~
Thank god his parents weren’t home. You didn’t want to try to be quiet.
He had you in his bed the second the door was shut, kissing you voraciously as he helped you undress and tore his own shirt and trousers off. For a guy who was just preaching patience, he was pretty hasty all of a sudden.
When all you had on were your panties, he set his arms straight to hover over you and stare down at you, looking a little dumbstruck. You almost felt self-conscious enough to try to cover your chest, but he smiled at you and you felt a little better. “You’re so… fuck, birdie, you’re pretty.”
It was a simple compliment, but it felt incredibly powerful when he said it like that. He was in his boxers, and it wasn’t too much more skin than you’d already seen while swimming with him and such, but it was different with his massive hard-on making a visible imprint in the patterned cotton.
Gently, he spread your legs, and tightened his jaw at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear. “Oh, fuck,” he sighed.
“I always get like that,” you admitted quietly. “Should be easy for you to fuck me, right?”
“Yes, yeah,” he agreed, “but m’not gonna fuck you yet.”
You frowned a little, and he laughed as he kissed you again.
“I told you I’m doing this the right way,” he insisted, “it’s your first time. It’ll hurt if I just go for it.”
He leaned back and sat up, bringing his hands down to the waistband of your panties and gently dragging them down your legs; you felt gooseflesh spread all over your body.
“Oh, darling,” he whispered as he opened your legs again, looking right at you now. You squirmed a little, but his grip on your thighs was tight. “I need you to tell me now if you’ve changed your mind about this… ‘cause I can already tell I’m gonna have a hard time stopping once I start.”
Your heart skipped a beat, but you were sure, you were so sure. “I haven’t changed my mind,” you promised.
“I won’t get mad at you or anything,” he assured.
“I know— I’m sure,” you breathed. Wondering if you should return the sentiment, you asked, "You're sure you wanna do this? With me?"
"Birdie, I've wanted to do this with you since I knew what this was," he smiled.
"And you don't mind that I've never…"
"No, birdie, I don't mind," he laughed. "Think it's perfect actually. Couldn't let any other lad be your first. Couldn't let any other lad touch you like this."
You bit your lip. “You were gonna let me go out with Rhys,” you reminded him.
“I let you give him your number. We hadn’t even gotten to you going out with him,” Tom corrected. “And I was acting fine as best I could but I was really jumpin’, birdie, thinking about if something might happen with you two— something like this…”
You whined as you tugged on his shirt, hoping to hide your face in his neck, but he pulled his face back so he could look down at you with a smile. "Tommy, please," you whimpered.
"Please, what?" he encouraged.
"Jus' need you…"
He kissed your neck again, making your back arch and your hands grab onto his shoulders, and pressed his hips down against you. You whined at the feeling of his erection through clothes, but opened your eyes in confusion when he pulled back again just a moment later, hovering over you. "Say my name when I make you come, yeah?" he instructed, and you nodded. "Try it on for size just once, why don'tya," he encouraged with a smile.
"Tommy," you smiled back, and he kissed the tip of your nose.
"That's m'girl," he praised, before crawling back down, kissing a trail over your stomach, moving his hand up your thigh.
He just kept his face right up close to you, watching his finger swipe through your folds, then watching it gently circle your clit. You whimpered, and felt your insides flex on nothing. Apparently, that made him want to give you something to clench on— he gently slipped his pointer finger past your opening, and you let out a long sigh.
“So warm inside,” he observed. He pulled the finger back out a second later, putting it in his mouth and humming happily. He put his mouth on you at the same time that he put the finger back in, along with a second; that was a lot to take in, and your back arched up off the bed instantly. He mouthed at your clit, swirling his tongue around while his lips created this wonderful pressure; you had to grab onto his hair, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.
Eventually, he did have to break away for a second. "Wondered how you'd taste," he admitted with a sigh.
"Well?" you prompted.
"Taste like 'eaven, birdie," he purred. "Sweet little pussy— an' it's all for me?"
"All yours," you nodded, and he growled a little as he dove back in.
The tip of his tongue slid right up from your opening to where your clit was swollen and throbbing— he pushed his tongue flat against it and you whimpered loudly. He started to really fuck you with his fingers then, rather than just letting the natural movement of your hips force you to ride them; they curled inside you, hitting a spot that made your own fingers curl into fists in his hair. You didn’t want to hurt him, but he didn’t mind getting his hair pulled, apparently, and just moaned lowly against you.
The pressure started weighing on your gut after a while, your pussy tensing up on him faster and faster until it was just bearing down on him unendingly. “Fuck, Tommy,” you gasped.
“C’mon, birdie,” he mumbled against you, “wan’ you to come. Go ahead and come for me, yeah?”
You called out his name one more time, and it all spilled over at once; he shut his eyes tight, letting you pull his face right up against you by his curls as your hips bucked and grinded on him. You sobbed weakly, and when it was suddenly too much, he broke away and pinned you down for a messy kiss.
It left you even more breathless than you already were. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glazed over and his lips and chin were a lot glazed over; he gave you a crooked smile. “Taste how sweet you are?” he purred. You wouldn’t call it sweet, really, but it still turned you on like crazy to hear him say it.
“Please, Tom,” you gasped, grabbing his shoulders, “you’ll fuck me now, right?”
He nodded, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Sure you’re ready?” he asked, laughing when you groaned and punched him on the arm.
“Course I’m fuckin’ ready!” you snapped. “God, Tommy, you always give ‘em all this rigamarole first?”
He shook his head. “Just you, birdie… it was always just you.”
Kissing you again, his breath changed as he reached down to push his boxers out of the way and kick them off to the floor. The way it felt to have his bare skin against yours as he lowered himself down was… euphoric. Warm and soft and smooth, and when he wrapped you in his arms, it felt like he could just absorb you entirely. You wouldn’t mind it if he did.
He'd prepared you so well that there was only one quick sting of pain when he pushed inside you— though just that was still enough to make one tiny tear roll down your temple, which he kissed away softly.
"Are you alright?" he whispered. You nodded. "I need you to tell me, birdie."
"I'm okay," you promised through a sigh. "It hurts a little, b-but please don't stop."
"You're sure?"
"Please!"
He pushed his hips flush with yours and you gritted your teeth, though everything in you relaxed just a moment later; and all that was left was the fullness, the warmth of him, the way his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered to you, and you bit your lip.
"I love you, Tommy," you mumbled weakly, and he planted one soft kiss on your mouth.
"I love you too, darling."
He carefully began to move, needing to reach down with one hand to keep your hips steady. Your moans were shaky at first, but got louder and more even with each movement.
"You're… so deep," you breathed. "Tommy, I— I didn't know anything could be so deep in me."
"Well, I am," he grinned. "I'm right… here."
He pressed down on your stomach, right on the spot where the tip of his cock reached— and your eyes rolled back. "Ohh, god," you whined.
"You feel it, love?" he cooed.
"Yes, yes," you groaned. "Fuck, Tommy, why didn't you tell me you had a perfect cock?"
He laughed a little, leaning down to kiss you on the jaw. "Guess it never came up."
"Does it always… is it always like this?" you wondered. "It's so good, does it always feel this good?"
He shook his head, kissing your forehead and then trailing down your nose and cheek. "No, it's not always like this," he answered quietly. "Not for me, anyway. It's never been like this."
His lips met yours again, and you reached up to weave your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. He groaned a little, moving his hips faster, and you smiled. "Do you wanna fuck me harder?" you asked.
"Fuck," he mumbled, "I— I could. Do you want me to?"
"I can take it," you promised.
Picking up the pace slightly, he held you tighter; and you felt each impact a little harder, the sound of his skin on yours echoing around the room. “Like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” you answered— you meant it more neutral than it came out, it sounded proper pornographic the way you said it, and he smiled. “More, Tommy, please? Jus’ want more…”
He hissed but did as he was told, latching onto your neck with his lips as he let something a little more animalistic take over, making you cry out and hold onto him tighter. “Beautiful,” he grunted, “you’re so beautiful, birdie— you sound beautiful.”
“It’s just ‘cause you’re making me sound like this,” you sighed, clutching at his back, too overwhelmed by pleasure to worry about scratching him up.
“I’m giving you a hickey this time,” he informed you. “You want my mark on you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you admitted, “always, Tommy— fuck, always wanted it.”
“‘Cause you’re mine, yeah?”
“Always,” you whimpered.
“A-ah, shit— when it’s time, I'll pull out, okay?" he offered.
"No," you whined, wrapping your legs around his hips. "Tommy, please, want it inside…"
"Birdie," he breathed roughly, "if you say things like that, I-I'll come too fast."
“Don’t care,” you whimpered. “Promise you’re gonna come inside me.”
“F-fuck,” he groaned, “erm— yeah, m’gonna come in ya, okay?”
You choked out the shortest sob of joy. “Please, please— fuck, I’ll come again…”
“Yeah, fuck, c’mon then,” he praised, “just say my name, birdie— I wanna hear my name.”
“Tommy,” you cried, feeling him gasp against your neck as another wave of heat spread over your body; feeling him flex inside you right as you hit your own peak was so perfect. You could’ve never described your emotions in that moment with words, but they found their way out anyways: you started crying, instantly.
“Don’t cry, birdie, shh,” he soothed quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “C’mon, darling, don’t cry—”
“N-no, Tommy,” you sniffled, “I’m just happy— I’m so happy, I swear…”
So he let you cry, and held you close to him; he didn’t leave until you fell asleep, even though he said he was just going to get you a washcloth and a cup of water and come right back. He played with your hair and kissed your face, and just talked about all the normal things you usually talked about— as in, everything. But this time, it was actually everything, no more hidden feelings.
You didn’t remember falling asleep, but after one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly— like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes— you woke up tangled with him and his sheets. Turning on your side as best you could, you looked at his sleeping face and smiled to yourself. He woke up just a bit later, cutting your staring short, and smiled back at you.
“Top of the morning, my ‘ansum,” you greeted as you pinched his cheek. He laughed and batted your hand away, hiding his face from the sun under his arm.
“You kicked me in your sleep,” he grumbled.
“So it’s all over, then? Final straw, you’re finally getting rid of me?” you joked.
“Mm, I thought about it,” he snorted, making you laugh. He popped his face up again and started to kiss your face all over.
“Tommy, stop,” you whined.
“You can’t make me stop now,” he pointed out, “it’s one thing to get your best friend to stop kissing you, but your boyfriend? Nah, m’not stopping.”
You laughed, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him only making you feel more ticklish and squirm more. You only stilled when he grabbed your face and gave you a real kiss, and everything seemed to slow down quite a bit. You kissed him back, properly, reaching up to weave your fingers in his hair. “So, you’re my boyfriend, then?” you noticed when you broke away.
“No, I think we’re still just friends,” he nodded, and you laughed and shoved him on the chest.
“Might as well be, everything we did before sayin’ we were only friends,” you admitted.
“I’m whatever you want me to be, birdie,” he promised.
#tom (make up) x reader#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn smut#tom (make up) smut#make up (2019) fic#tom grant x reader#tom grant smut
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i am pretty solidly anti-fic printing except when its my fic that i wrote & i want to hold it in my hands for editing purposes
final (final!!!!) edit & slider one-shot inbound soon
#look im a leftist who writes top gun fanfic i can’t claim to be#a paragon of morality or anything#ohhhhhh boy are there a lot of edits to make#the problem is I wrote 90% of the fic only having seen tgm ONCE#which of course fucked everything up#it’s why i made ice responsible for rooster’s whole deal#& then i rewatched TGM and i was like. Fuck.#anyway now I’m just trying to make all the pieces line up#& get the style consistent cause phew there are some Wack ass moments in here#when we get around to talking about it#top gun#top gun maverick#icemav#pete maverick mitchell#tom iceman kazansky#top gun fanfiction#I designed the cover & am very proud of my typsetting job
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~ Some Father-son bonding ~
(A/N: I LOVE THIS ITERATION OF SONIC SM- ESPECIALLY HOW THE WRITERS WROTE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEM HIM AND TOM FOR THE FIRST AND SECOND FILM. I- SOBSSSS. I LOVE THESE TWO SM SO U KNOW I NEEDED TO MAKE A FIC ABT THEM 💞💕💖💗😭!!!)
Lee: Sonic🦔💙
Ler: Tom🍩🤎
Warnings: A little bit of angst in the beginning, harmful stimming (I’ll tag where it starts and ends) and tickling. If you are uncomfortable with any of the following please feel free to keep scrolling down :)
Summary: It’s been a couple months since the epic battle between Sonic and Eggman. The electric blue hedgehog could finally relax…right? Well…yes and no. Sonic has been living with the Wachowski’s for those couple months and it’s been great! But…he keeps feeling weird. His stomach gets fluttery and he can’t stop laughing for hours at a time…it's…really weird. Maybe he should talk to someone about this…
(A/N: Parent and child relationship. Nothing more. Nothing less. It sickens me that I have to put that in there (bc it should be obvious) but you can never be too sure…I just needed to make it clear that they love each other as family.)
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Sonic was sitting up on his beanbag and playing with the rubix cube Maddie gave him about a week ago. He was dressed in a sweatshirt, a gift from Tom that was like 3 times his own size, going almost to his knees and blue fuzzy socks. He groaned as he finished solving the cube again for probably the 12th time now. Speaking of which, you’re probably wondering where he got the rubix cube from…and before you ask, no he did not steal it. It was quite the opposite actually.
Maddie noticed that Sonic was very fidgety at times and often pulled at his quills when he was nervous about something, or completely bored. So she decided to go shopping and buy the blue hedgehog some fidget toys. And by “some”, Sonic means like about 60-70 at least…he hasn’t counted but by the looks on how freaking heavy the box was when she gifted it to him, his estimation probably wasn’t that far off.
Sonic groaned again, dropping the rubix cube he had in his hands and placed it on his desk, making sure to put it down delicately so he didn’t accidentally dent it; out of all of the fidget toys this one was Sonic’s favorite and he didn’t want it getting ruined under any circumstances. The hedgehog flopped on his beanbag, looking up at the ceiling and putting his pillow to his face before abruptly groaning loudly for like the 100th time, but at least now it was muffled by the pillow.
Sonic wanted something but he didn’t know what…and this feeling was starting to get on his nerves.
Well- no- scratch that. He did- he did know what he wanted. But there’s no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna tell anyone about it.
There- there was this feeling in his stomach, but he didn’t know what the literal hell it was, and it’s been eating him from the inside since he’s come to Green Hills. His stomach felt fluttery, almost as if there were butterflies instead of intestines- but not in a bad way! In a very weird, confusing, nice way? If that makes sense? And another thing, he can't seem to stop giggling to himself. Which is odd. Because he didn’t even hear a joke or anything! He was just…giggling. Like what? But most importantly, he was craving physical affection apparently??? Ugh. See why he wasn’t gonna tell anyone about this feeling? Or…whatever this was?
Sonic looked at his phone- not far from where he was lying down on his beanbag. He remembers Maddie saying every time she left before work in the morning that if he needed anything, to text or call her…
This is probably what she meant.
But he didn’t want to bother her. Sonic knew how important Maddie’s job was and he didn’t want to make it more stressful. Besides, what was she supposed to say to her coe-working people if Sonic called or texted? Oh! Sorry! The over-sized hedgehog I have living in my house wants to talk about this weird feeling he’s feeling! Hm? Oh, what feeling you ask? He doesn’t quite know exactly!
Yeah. Thanks but no thanks. Sonic could handle this weird feeling on his own. Yep. He could totally handle this weird new feeling by himself. Uh-huh. He’s got this.
…
Maddie…Maddie wouldn’t mind…right?
…
Oh fuck it.
Sonic grabbed his phone and unlocked it, immediately going through his contacts to find Maddie- which wasn't hard. He only had two contacts: her and Tom.
✨💖The Magnificent Marvelous Maddie💖✨
Today at 1:38 p.m.
Hey Maddie
If uh
If you’re not busy…can I ask you a question?
Sonic turned his phone off and put it next to him and after a couple seconds of waiting the blue hedgehog immediately regretted sending those three texts to Maddie. She’s probably busy anyway. Sonic could figure out this feeling by himself-
PING!
Sonic almost jumped out of his seat at the sudden loud sound coming from his phone. He really needs to figure out how to turn that sound down…he can feel it still ringing in his ears. He turned on his phone to see a text notification- 3 actually- from the one and only Maddie Wachowski…
Well that was fast.
Hi, sweetie!
And of course you can ask me a question ☺️!
What’s on your mind, honey?
Sonic exhaled the breath he didn’t even notice he was holding in, unlocking his phone and going into messages to properly text her.
I’ve been…
I’ve been feeling weird lately- and idk why
Ever since I’ve come to Green Hills to stay w/ u guys I’ve felt this way…and idk what it is and it’s been pissing me off lately.
So I was hoping…maybe you could help me figure out what it is?
Of course!
Could you maybe try to describe it?
The thing is idk how to!
I just- my stomach feels all fluttery
Not in a bad way tho! Not like a roller-coaster fluttery or about-to-go-on-stage-and-sing-in-front-of-millions-upon-millions-of-people fluttery
But like- a good fluttery I guess??? I just feel rlly giggly and stuff and it’s weird- but weird in a good way…
…
That doesn’t make any sense, does it?
No no! I think I understand, sweetie
And I think I can help 😊
WAIT- HUH???
YOU CAN???
Well, not me exactly
As of I’m not home right now
But I’m sure Tom can help!
Wait what-?
How can Tom help w/ this I’m so confused 😭😭😭
Trust me
In the past, I’ve had the feeling you’re feeling right now and Tom is the best person to help with it- so just tell him what you told me!
Uh…alright!
I guess I could do that
Thanks Maddie
It’s no problem, Sonic sweetie 😊
Okay, thanks again- I’m gonna go talk to him now
Bye!
Okay bye! Love you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️☺️☺️☺️
Love you too 😗❤️
Sonic got up from his beanbag chair, put his phone inside of the desk and opened the hatch downstairs. Sonic quietly tiptoed down the stairs, making sure to dodge the places in the steps that he knew squeaked if he stepped too hard, peeking over the stairway to see Tom watching TV- and from the looks of it it looked like some sheriff documentary- he’s been watching those a lot lately…but Sonic doesn’t understand the hype. The sheriff’s on the TV could be talking about some random paint splatter on the ground and Tom would be hooked.
“I can hear you trying to be quiet up there, Sonic.” Tom chuckled, still facing the TV as he went to grab the remote on the armrest and pause the TV. The brunette turned to Sonic with a “hah! Caught ya” grin, a grin Sonic knew all too well in his last months of living with him.
The hedgehog sighed in defeat of being caught, walking down the stairs and going next to the couch Tom was sitting at. The brunette had a grey/gray shirt on with a light plaid print jacket, matching with some black pants and white socks.
“Uh…’sup, Tom.” Sonic said as casually as he could before leaning on the couches’ arm rest. The brunette eyed Sonic suspiciously, raising one eyebrow as he crossed his arms. Sonic started to sweat under the older man’s glare, whistling and looking anywhere but Tom’s direction.
“What did you do, Sonic?” Tom sighed, taking the blue hedgehogs’ sudden nervousness as a sign of him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I didn't do anything!” Sonic said, mimicking Tom’s expression and pose. The two looked at each other in the pose for a solid minute or two before laughing at their silliness.
“So what do you need, little man?” Tom asked. Sonic cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands and began looking at his feet because honestly? Staring at the ground was much much more easier than looking at Tom at the moment. “I just…I figured we could- y’know- hang out I guess?” The blue hedgehog started, “Some uhm…y’know some father-son bonding activities…?” Sonic said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking down on the ground.
There was an uncomfortable silence between the two and Sonic didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. And the more the silence dragged on the more the blue hedgehog started to second guess himself about coming down to the living room.
Pfft, “Father-son bonding?” He really has reached a whole new level of patheticness, huh? Why would Tom want to spend time with him? He’s just keeping him around because he pity’s him. He doesn’t actually enjoy his company. Just wait until Tom gets tired of him, then he’ll be all alone again-
Oh this was a mistake.
This was such SUCH a mistake.
***Harmful stimming starts***
The hedgehog started lightly pulling on his quills out of nervousness with one hand while his other hand started tapping the side of his leg, “O-Or whatever. If- If you want to of course. I don’t want it to seem like you're being forced, hah!” Sonic said, letting out the best fake laugh he could muster before speaking again. “I-If you’re busy- y’know….with, uhh, you’re sheriff stuff…that’s fine as well. I don’t- I don’t care.” Sonic started slowly backing away from Tom, still pulling on his quills- but a tad bit harder this time as his hand tapping on his leg started increasing faster.
Sonic could hear faint talking in front of him but he couldn’t focus on it. The only thing he needed to focus on was leaving before he embarrassed himself more. “Y’know what? I-I should go, you’re probably doing something busy anyway, uh…lemme get out of your hair, man.” Sonic grimaced, turning away and going to the steps, but before he could walk any farther Tom grabbed both his hands gently.
***Harmful stimming stops***
“Hey…let’s not do that, okay? You’re hurting yourself….” Tom said softly, holding Sonic’s hands in his own as he kneeled down to try and match Sonic’s height. “Where are your fidget toys?” Tom gently asked, trying his best to keep the questions short and sweet to not overwhelm the younger. These types of moments have happened before in the Wachowski’s house; when Sonic started to panic, asking him too many questions would get him even more upset, so when this happened they kept the questions to a minimum and straight to the point. “I…I left them upstairs…” Sonic mumbled.
“Oh. That’s okay…uh…here. Sit down on the couch for a sec.” The brunette said as he picked up Sonic and sat him on the couch. Rubbing his head affectionately before walking away to the kitchen rummaging through the kitchen shelves before coming out with a blue squishy ball. He came back to Sonic who gratefully accepted the ball. Tom sat next to Sonic as the younger leaned onto his shoulder, taking another deep breath and exhaling, muscles once tense now relaxed.
“Sorry about that…” Sonic said, squeezing the stress ball harder and glaring at it as if it stole his last chili dogs. Well this wasn’t how he was planning this conversation with Tom to go. The older looked at Sonic sadly before sighing and turning his gaze looking straight ahead to the paused TV. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, kid. It’s alright.” Tom said. The blue hedgehog hummed at the comic, taking a couple more deep breathers.
There was that uncomfortable silence again, the one that Sonic despised. “I just…I dunno. I feel weird…?” Sonic said, squeezing his squishy fidget ball at a faster pace this time. The older didn't say anything but completely turned to Sonic, letting him know he was listening. The younger somewhat shrunk under the older mans’ look, feeling a tad bit pressure to go on but decided to ignore it. He wanted- no. He needed to get this off of his chest.
“Ever since I’ve come to stay with you and Maddie after the defeat of Dr. Robotnik, I’ve felt…odd. I feel tingly, and fluttery and it’s just…weird, because I’ve never felt like this before, ever. I talked to Maddie about it in text and she said to talk to you about it…so uh…here I am!” Sonic sheepishly said.
Tom chuckled, “Is that why you said you wanted some Father-son bonding?” The blue hedgehog blushes at the mention, nodding his head. The older one chuckled once again, rubbing Sonic’s head affectionately, “I’d be happy to help you with this fluttery-feeling, buddy!” The blue hedgehog quickly looked at Tom as his ears went up in surprise.
“Wait. Really?” Sonic asked. “Of course! But before I do, I gotta ask you a question…” Tom said waiting a dramatically long time before continuing his sentence. “Are you ticklish?” The older asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow up. There was a silence between the two, but only this time this one was in complete and utter confusion. The younger ones' eyebrows creased together trying to put together what he was just asked, “Um…gesundheit?”
“What? No, kid.Tickling. Y'know, being ticklish?” Tom said as he wiggled his fingers near Sonic’s face only to be met by a confused look. “I dunno what you are talking about, man…” Sonic chuckled, now relaxing in the hug as he chuckled at the older mans’ surprised face.
Tom’s dumbfounded expression slowly turned to a soft, genuine smile, then it slowly turned into an evil grin. This kid had no idea what tickling is!
…
This kid had no idea what tickling is…
Oh Tom is gonna change that very quickly.
“Uh…Tom? You okay over there? Your face kinda looks like that green person we watched on Christmas…” Sonic said, wincing at the memory of the man’s genuine expression slowly slowly turning into an evil one. Tom stopped with his evil grin (for now at least), and raised his left eyebrow in amusement. “You mean The Grinch?” He asked, laughing when the blue hedgehog nodded happily at the familiar name. “Yeah, yeah! That dude!” Sonic smiled.
“I need you to stay perfectly still for this to work though, okay?” Tom said in the best serious voice he could muster, but probably not as serious as he thought since right after he stopped talking Sonic started laughing a bit. “Pfft, whatever you say, Donut Lord.” Sonic snickered, hopping into Tom’s lap facing sideways.
Tom then began to lightly scratch along Sonic’s sides, the reaction was almost immediate as the blue hedgehog began to squirm lightly and grab at the brunette’s wrists; but not pushing them away. Sonic held his breath; trying not to laugh but that plan started to crumble as Tom began to poke at the youngers’ sides; more quickly than he was before. Sonic let out a tiny shriek before descending into little giggles, kicking his legs and shaking his head. Tom smiled at the adorable sight.
“Whahat? Hehey-! Hehey wahahait! Whahat ahahare yohou dohoing?” Sonic asked while becoming a giggly squirmy mess. Tom chuckled at the youngers’ question, making sure to go easy on him since this was his first time being tickled, so he’d start off with light tickles…for now at least.
“I’m tickling you, silly! Since it does seem to me that you happen to be a bit ticklish~!” Tom cooed, now using two hands to tase around Sonic’s sides. Sonic threw his head back, suddenly lost in a puddle of giggles and fell on the couch, but still in Tom’s grasp as the brunette tickled up and down his sides. “Whahat ahare you tahahalking about?” Sonic giggly asked, his legs lightly stomped on the couch as some pillows fell in the process.
“Hmm, hold on…” Tom said as he grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket, typing up something but making sure to keep the blue hedgehog in a giggly squirmy mess. “Ah, okay. Goggle states this: Tickling is the act of touching a part of a body in a way that causes involuntary-“ “Ihihi dohohon’t knohow whahat thahat meeheeans!” Sonic whined interrupting Tom, shaking his head back and forth giggling up a storm in the older mans’ lap. “You didnt even let me finish!” Tom laughed, moving one hand to tickle Sonic’s neck while the other still tickled his side.
“PFFT- nAhAHAH! GeHEt ohOUT ohohOHOF theHEhehere!” Sonic giggly demanded, still holding Tom’s wrist as he scrunched up his shoulders. The older man chuckled before digging both of his hands in both sides of the blue hedgehog’s neck, fingers fluttering up, down, left, and right. Sonic’s feet drummed on the couch, trying to make a daring escape but anytime he was even a bit close to leaving, Tom would poke Sonic’s sides, leaving the blue hedgehog to be an adorable giggly mess. “Stahay still!” Tom playfully scolded.
“THIhihIHIs ihihis soHO weeheeird!” The hedgehog giggled, his face beginning to turn a light red. And honestly, if Tom could start crying, he would- out of happiness of course. This was to fucking darn cute.
“How many ribs do you think you have, Sonic?” Tom asked as he held both of Sonic’s arms up against the couch, trying his best to compose himself from not crying from the younger ones’ adorable reactions to the pokes. “Mahaddie sahahaid weehee hahave twehenty-fohour; twehehelve ohon eeheeach sihihide!” Sonic giggly answered, as he remembered Maddie did a walk-through on the human body and how many bones it has.
“Hm…you sure? Maybe I should count them for you…” Tom didn’t even spare the giggly blue hedgehog a second to protest as he pressed his thumb into the lowest rib on the right side of Sonic’s ribcage, kneading and circling at a very very slow pace against the artificial bone. Sonic screeched at the sudden sensation against his ribs, kicking his legs a bit faster as Tom slowly slowly slowly began to “count his ribs”.
“One…two…three…” Tom counted aloud, remaining on a rib for about 5 seconds before moving up to a different one. Sonic lurched in Tom’s lap, attempting to pry himself out by pushing at Tom’s wrists but only caused the older to pin up his arms and continue kneading at his ribs. “NahAHA! WahahHAHAIT, plehHEHEase!” Sonic whined throughout his frantic cries of laughter. “Ihi sahAHAId iHi hahaHAVE tweHEHEnty foHOUR!”
“I'm just double checking!” Tom innocently said as if he wasn’t completely wrecking the boy in his lap at the moment. The blue hedgehog squirmed and squealed at the tickly feeling at his ribs, being unable to do anything but just take it. This went on for a couple more numbers but then Tom suddenly stopped “counting” Sonic’s ribs, giving the kid another breather before hatching another evil plan. “Wait, what number was I on, Sonic?”
“Tohohom! Yohou lihihiterally ohonly counted toohoo sihihix-!”
“Oh, well. I lost count! Guess I have to start all over again~!
Sonic froze in place, laughter now raising an octave as he helplessly squirmed in Tom’s grasp. “WahAHaH- waHahaHAIT *snort* nOHo dahHa- *snort* dohOHOHOn’t!” Sonic snorted, descending into a puddle of maddening cackles feeling the fluttery feeling again. So this was the feeling he was feeling…? He’d have to ask Tom later, when he’s not getting tickled to pieces.
“Awh~! That’s so cute~! You snort when you laugh?” Tom cooed, wiggling his fingers near the blue hedgehog's ribs but very very close to touching him. Sonic’s laughter became more frantic and loud, squirming underneath Tom, and it's not like he could defend himself either! His arms were pinned up! This entire situation just screamed “unfair”. “NahaHAO! IHI *snort* doHOHon’t!” Sonic giggly said, knowing that- yes. Yes he did snort when he laughed, he did just a couple seconds ago…but no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna admit it, especially in this situation.
“Oho really? What was that adorable noise you made just then, hmm?” Tom smugly asked. “YohOu’re heehEEARihing thihIHIngs…” Tom fondly rolled his eyes as he pinched and kneaded Sonic’s ribs, leaving absolutely no bone left out from his tickle torture. Sonic threw his head back and cackled like a madman, snorting every now and again as he squirmed like a worm, trying to stop the ticklish sensation at his ribs.
“NAHAHAO! DAHAHAD *snort* PLEHEASE!” Sonic cried. Tom’s eyes widened at the name title the younger gave, not sure if the blue hedgehog meant to say it, but was very honored and happy at the mention. It made his heart melt. “Please what, Sonic? Pleaseeeeee keep tickling you?” Tom smugly teased, grin widening as he saw Sonic’s face heat up in embarrassment. Guess he’s weak to the T-word, huh? Oho I can and will use that to my advantage…
“DAHAHA- *snort* OHOHO MY GOHOD! STAHAHAP SAHAHAYING THAHAT!” Sonic yelled as he shook his head back and forth. “Stop saying what, exactly? Tickle~? Ticklish~? Tickled~? Or do you want me to simply stop talking? Which one?” Tom laughed. “YEHEHES!” Sonic cried, not even completely knowing what he just said ‘yes’ to- he was too lost in his own laughter. Tom stopped tickling Sonic, letting him have one last breather before the final kill.
“Ever heard of raspberries, Sonic?” Tom asked, knowing that he the blu hedgehog has, but probably not the ones he’s talking about. “Lihihike thehe fruhuhuit?” Sonic giggly asked. “Nope! Here, lemme show you…” Tom said as he blew a raspberry on the youngers’ tummy causing him to absolutely howl in laughter.
“OHO MY *snort* GAAAHAHAD WAHAHAIT! WAHAHAIT!” Sonic screamed, completely not prepared for this new tickly feeling on his stomach…and why did it sound so freaking funny??? That was just gonna make him laugh more! “Wait for what Sonic~?” Tom teased as he blew more raspberries on his tummy, and with his free and scribbling up and down Sonic’s ribs.
“WAHAHAIT- *snort* IHI *snort* DOHON’T DOOHOO THAHAHAT!” Sonic cried, blue sparks suddenly forming on the kids’ quills, sparkling here and there but some going off of his quills and onto the carpet floor, disappearing. Sonic cackled in the older Tom’s lap, the blue lightning on his quills adding a new ticklish sensation on him.
“Huh. Well they do say you learn new things everyday…” Tom mumbled, watching some of the lighting sparks fall off of the younger ones quills. “PLEHEHEASE! IHIT’S *snort* TIHIHICKLISH!” Sonic screamed, more tiny little blue sparks flying off of his quills and onto the floor. Tom chuckled at the little blue hedgehogs’ reactions, moving down to Sonic’s lower belly as he began to lightly flutter his fingers around it.
“I think you mean ‘it tickles’, bud.” Tom said into Sonic’s tummy, chuckling. Tom was the sheriff of Green Hills- not the sheriff of grammar; at least last time Sonic checked. Tom began to blow more raspberries all over the little blue hedgehog’s stomach, making sure to add a few nibbles now and again to keep the younger in stitches- which worked out really well on Tom’s part. Sonic’s laughter became more high pitched and loud, snorting more frequently as the older started to raspberry and nibble his stomach.
“OHOHO MY GOHOD *snort* WHATEVER!” Sonic screamed as Tom began to switch between his lips and teeth nibbling mercilessly at Sonic’s tummy leaving the poor blue hedgehog in absolute hysterics.
Tom dug his fingers in the blue hedgehogs underarms.And Sonic screamed. The hedgehog's feet were kicking probably about a million miles per hour, just looking like a complete and utter blur while the blue sparks on Sonic’s quills multiplied.
“So~! I think I found your most ticklish spot, huh~?” Tom chuckled, lightly scratching his fingers in Sonic’s underarms, making sure to dodge the little sparks of blue lightning coming off of Sonic’s quills- which he knew tickled the younger even more due to how much he was laughing. Sonic screamed underneath the brunette’s grasp, trying his best to not kick him in the face but the task being very very hard as his feet were kicking around a million miles per hour.
“NOHOHO- *snort* DAHAHAH! DOHOHON’T!” Sonic howled, shaking his head back and forth while the heels of his feet dug into the couch. Tom, chuckled, now scribbling and scratching in Sonic’s underarms, “I’m barely even touching you!” Tom laughed, almost as hard as Sonic as he began to pick up the pace with his scribbling.
“STAHAHA! *snort* NAHAHA- *snort* PLEHEHEA- *snort* DAHAHAHAD!” Sonic screamed, as happy tears started forming in his eyes which Tom took as a sign that Sonic has enough tickles for today. “Alright, alright! Just say Uncle.” Tom calmly said as if Sonic wasn’t screaming his head off. “WHAHA- *snort* WHAHAT?!
“Juhust say Uncle, kiddo-“ Tom said as he accidentally hit a very ticklish spot in Sonic’s underarm causing the younger to let out a girl-like squeal.
“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! UHUHUNCLE!”
Tom stopped tickling Sonic; letting the kid have a breather and putting him into a tight embrace. The blue hedgehog giggled softly in the hug as he melted into the touch. “You okay?” Tom chuckled, smirking at the younger who was still giggling from the tickles from before. Sonic nodded, wiping away his happy tears with his hand still giggling a bit. “So~, I’m Dad now, huh? What happened to being ‘too cool for your human parental names’?” Sonic blushed, pulling up his hoodie and sinking deeper into Tom’s chest. “Shuhut ihit….”
“I really don’t mind you calling me Dad, bud.” Tom smiled. “Wahait whahat…? Reheally?” Sonic asked in genuine confusion looking up at the older with shiny eyes- Tom swore Sonic’s pupils had stars in them at that moment. “Yeah, I don’t mind.” Tom confirmed, patting Sonic’s back. Sonic’s eyes glistened a bit but the younger one soon wiped them. “Cool…”
“So…that's called tickling?” The blue hedgehog asked.
“Mhm.”
“So…you tickled me?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” Sonic said, not being able to say anything more than that. “How’s that fluttery feeling in your stomach doing?” Tom asked. “Fine, it's doing just fine.” Sonic smiled as Tom smiled back, rubbing his head affectionately and chuckling.
“Let's go grab you some water, kiddo. And how about we make some cupcakes after that-“ Tom wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as the blue hedgehog excitedly ran to the kitchen chugging a glass of water and putting out ingredients to make the cupcakes. Tom chuckled, walking over to Sonic to join him.
Tom definitely had to make a note to tell Maddie about his later, but as of right now he was going to bake some cupcakes with his son. And if they burn down the house in the process, oh well…they both can try coming up with a good excuse to tell Maddie as to why the house is in ashes.
——————————————————————————————————
RAAAAAAH THROWS THIS FATHER-SON SHIT AT U 💖💞💞💞💗✨✨
I LOVE THESE TWO GOOFBALLS SMMMMMM THEY MEAN SM TO MEEEEEE😭😭😭💙🤎. But anyway, hope you all enjoyed it!!! I do have a couple more WIP fics on the way that r almost finished and a gift fic for someone as well which is ALSO almost done so be sure to look out for those :)
❗️❗️❗️ALSO DON'T FORGET TO DRINK WATER. ITS FLAVOURLESS BUT ITS GOOD FOR U SO DRINK IT PLZ❗️❗️❗️
#OK-#TAG TIME.#There is a LOT of explaining that imma do so buckle up#So I HC Sonic in the live action movies (2020 and 2022) to have ADHD#And he gets very fidgety a lot#Sometimes when he’s stressed or upset he pulls on his quills (like pulling hair basically) so Maddie decided to get him fidget toys to help#Anytime he’s stressed he just uses them#(Am I projecting Ah-HA. Ofc not…)#And Tom and Maddie KNOW that Sonic doesn’t just like being in one place so they put different fidget toys around the house#And yeah-#Ik that Sonic called Tom “Dad” at the end of the 2nd movie-#BUT~#I just wanted it to be a couple months after the 1st movie bc I thought the plot would make more sense :3#RAAAAH#I’ll explain more I promise lol- I needs to make a whole ass doc or sumthin damn#Also sorry it’d taken so long for a fic 😭😭😭#My WIP’s r almost done I swear- I just need to pizz-azz them#Sonic the Hedgehog#Sonic the Hedgehog Movie#Sonic the Hedgehog Movie tickle#Lee!Sonic#Ler!Tom#Sonic the Hedgehog has ADHD#Sonic the Hedgehog is neurodivergent#Fight me on that.#Holy moly thats a lot of tags lmao
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Hi Ali <3 how would you feel about writing some cozy Saturday morning sex with Tom x fem!reader? Basically just fluffy smut with Tom and reader showing how much they adore each other. - @munson-blurbs 💚
author’s note: tom is so fucking boyfriend it makes me want to cry. anyways enjoy my dirty thoughts, this was meant to be sweet but…oh well.
cw: 18+ (minors dni) morning sex, tom being a menace, this is a good mix of sweet and really depraved you’re welcome, mentions of past relationships, if i missed anything lmk!
word count: 2k
You wake up in the early morning, before the sun is up, and the spot on the bed beside you has gone cold, void of the warm body that usually lies there. Tom didn’t go to work this early, he never did—that immediate instinct to reach out for him and cuddle up against his warm body is left lingering, eyes falling shut in hopes that it’s all just a dream.
Your relationship with Tom evolved quickly after the encounter that happened a few weeks prior—if you weren’t spending the night most of the time, you’d at least stay at his place into the ungodly hours of the night, watching one of those ridiculously cheesy movies he liked to put on before bed, always falling asleep halfway through and never finishing them.
It didn’t take long for Tom to unload on you, all of his hesitance in past relationships, things he wanted now, things he wished he would have fixed or changed about himself in the past—he’d practically buried himself into his work until he met you, it’s a nice change to his life, no longer reeling over how badly Ruth had hurt him.
Still, it stings when you wake up and he isn’t there—doubt slipping into your mind immediately. It isn’t his fault, only yours. It’s your own mind reminding you that you couldn’t always be enough for everyone—even Tom. You opt for cuddling the pillow instead, the cold sheets pressed up against your cheek as you squeezed the fabric, forcing yourself back to sleep.
And when the morning finally breaks, that ache in your heart is soothed as you feel a warm body press into your back, having shifted in your sleep to face your side of the bed, giving Tom ample space to squeeze in behind you.
You hate yourself for doubting him, but they were old habits you needed to break and even that took time.
Tom hums softly, the noise vibrating against the shell of your ear, his voice like velvet as he speaks a quiet, “Good morning,” riddled with exhaustion, seemingly having managed to get a small nap in somehow, “sleep well?”
“Woke up and you were gone,” You mumble groggily, hands fisting into his shirt as you turn on him, seeking his body heat, “got cold—you’re like a furnace, you know?”
“Yeah,” He says knowingly, “left to grab some things, didn’ mean to worry you.”
“Impossible,” You say truthfully, “always worried ‘bout you.”
Tom laughs softly, pressing a couple quick kisses against your hairline, pulling you tight as his arms wrap around your body.
“What exactly had you outta bed so early?” You ask curiously.
“Needed to grab some milk,” Tom says nonchalantly, “cereal, just some stuff.”
“At five in the morning?” You grumble, eyes peeking up at him slightly, the brightest burning. “To the store for fuckin’ milk and cereal—“
Tom laughs deviously, low and calculated as he leans forward to mouth at the exposed skin of your neck, pulling your shirt aside briefly.
“Some other stuff too,” He adds, “—could put ‘em to use now if you want.”
You make an appreciative noise, hands slipping under thin cotton of his shirt to press against his skin, cold fingertips sending a shiver through his body as he curses.
“Fuck, hands are ice cold,” He groans, “s’not nice.”
“Tryin’ to warm up, Tom. Shut it.” You complain, laughing airily as he trailers kisses further across your skin, over your collarbone before briefly returning to your face, eyes glancing down at you, lids half closed.
“Surely I can fix that.” Tom decides, his hands slipping up to the hem of your shorts, pulling them down with no resistance.
You’re still consumed with grogginess but you move, adjusting the covers up so he can rid you of your shorts and underwear, his own following soon after.
“What’s gotten into you this morning?” You pester him, a wicked smile on your face as he settles between your legs, flexing his fingers inside the drawer at his bedside to find the fresh box of condoms. It’s a little astonishing how he manages to rip it open with one hand, making you laugh in the way he grins widely, holding up the foil square between his fingers triumphantly.
“Missed you,” He says lazily against your skin, words drawn out, “is that bad?”
“Tom, you see me everyday,” You point out, fingers drifting through his fluffed curls, messy from how they air dried and mused themselves against his pillow.
Tom doesn’t reply, instead opting to slip a careful finger through your folds and press inside of you, body never yearning for the contact so fiercely. It’s no surprise when he finds you wet, finger sliding inside with ease.
“Coulda asked what’s gotten into you,” Tom comments slyly, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as watches your reaction, his finger moving in short thrusts, lingering on not enough, “think we’re about to find that out.”
You groan at his ridiculous humor, shoving his face away as his head lands unceremoniously against the pillow.
“Get on,” You complain, “stop being that way.”
He doesn’t relent, squeezing a second finger in soon after, forcing a soft gasp from your mouth which Tom mocks with amusement, face turning up similar to yours.
“S’not funny, Tom.” You frown, hands raking along his sides and under his shirt, fingertips pressing against the lean ridge of muscles just to feel him. “Want you.”
“Yeah?” Tom says hopefully, eyes lightening up like he didn’t already know how badly you wanted him—how badly he wanted you.
You nod fervently, “Just want you inside of me, but you’re pissin’ about and it’s not fair—“
Tom kisses you quick, deeply, any words geared to leave your mouth falling dead as soon as he touches you, hearing him moan happily into it. The foil crinkles somewhere under the confines of the blanket, his hands dragging along your thighs as he fists himself briefly, before he’s suddenly inside of you, shared gasps breathed into each other's mouths.
“That good enough?” He say snarkily, eyes fluttering open briefly to peer into your own, “All you needed was my cock?”
You laugh in a short huff, biting down on your lip to stifle it. It sounds silly enough to amuse you every time he says it, but it easily has you melting against him, desperately turned on by how raw he is with you.
“S’all I ever want,” You tell him, words slurring together tiredly, eyes starting to adjust to the natural brightness peeking in through the blinds, still half shut as Tom’s mouth drags against yours slowly—he’s not even kissing you anymore, rocking with the slow thrusts as he groaned openly against you, “think about it all day.”
“Naughty,” He chides, his snapping harshly to prove his point, forcing a ragged gasp from your mouth as you grip him tighter, hands squeezing around his ribcage, “thinkin’ about me inside you while you’re working, yeah?”
You nod honestly, “While I’m—I’m going to sleep and I’m not with you,” You speak softly, head tilting up to chase his lips as he moves away slightly, watching you intently, “fuck—when I’m at the store where I first saw you, just trying to shop and all I can think about is you—“
“If only I’d knew,” Tom says in a bittersweet tone, finger squeezing at the dip in your thighs where he’s got your legs pushed up slightly, wrapped around his waist, “wouldn’t have waited so fuckin’ long.”
“If I knew you fucked like this,” You moan shamelessly, his hips burying deeper with every thrust until he’s all consuming, body draped over you fully—his arms comes up to rest above your head, giving him the proper ability to watch you, leaving his other hand free to roam your body, “would’ve jumped you that first night, ‘stead of my hand around your cock.”
“Fuck,” Tom curses, eyes falling shut briefly as he presses his palm against your stomach for leverage, thrusts going wild for a moment, your moans mixing together until they couldn’t be told apart, “you’re ruining me.”
You smile widely, a hand reaching up to shift through his curls, tugging lightly. “Oh?”
“Ruinin’ me for anyone else—never going to want anyone else.”
It’s as close as an “I love you” that Tom has ever admitted to you, it's always implied but he’s still hesitant, unwilling to open himself up that easily again.
He groans as your grip tightens in his hair, hand traveling up to graze over your breasts briefly before cupping your face, thumb pressing past your lips, plush and soft and begging for his touch.
Tom doesn’t even have to speak the words, watching your mouth close around his finger, tongue swirling teasingly.
“Good,” He nods slightly, “you’re learning.”
It’s mostly a tease, but it strikes a nerve inside you, body running hot with arousal.
“Tom,” You beg softly, eyes connecting with him in a moment of vulnerability, “touch me, please.”
“I am,” Tom mumbles, “always am.”
You grab hold of his wrist, pushing his hand away from your face and down toward your cunt, his hips faltering as he watches, your delicate fingers pressing his own against your aching clit, deprived of the touch it needed.
“Touch me,” You reiterate, tilting his head up in your grip, exposing his neck more until you can’t stand it, reaching up to press your lips against the skin, speaking a slurred, “want to feel you come inside me.”
Tom’s perfected your body by now, touching you in just the way you needed—quick and hurried against your swollen clit, dragging you right along the edge until he’s coming with you—the words and your lips along his neck doing him in immediately, hips stuttering in their movements as he groans loudly, face creasing up from the force of his orgasm.
Tom breathes heavily against your skin, eerily silent as he tries to catch his breath.
“Are you still with me?” You ask, voice raw and worried, his hands squeezing against your skin a gentle acknowledgment.
“God—need a warning next time you feel a need to say shit like that,” Tom complains with a tired smile on his face, head turning over to look at you, “can’t handle it.”
You snort softly, shoving him off of you. Tom falls with a weak groan, rolling over silently to remove and dispose of the condom before turning back to you, only to be met with another eager press of your lips.
“I love you,” You say, feel as every bit as vulnerable as you imagined, but the need to say it was too strong, “and I—I’ve never said that to anyone.”
Tom grins, the sunrise creating a beautiful glow against his pale skin, his hand coming up to drag through your hair, pushing the strays away from your face.
“I love you,” He says softly, thumb rubbing at your brow gently, tracing the lines of your face, “probably should make you a proper girlfriend, would you want that?”
“Kinda figured we were already there,” You tell him honestly, his deep laugh ripping through the silence of the trailer, “—you don’t strike me as formal, Tom. We don’t have to make it a big thing.”
“You’re important to me.”
“Doesn’t mean I need big, grand gestures all the time.”
“Fine,” Tom grins, “next time I’ve got my cock inside you I’ll pop the question, see how you react to that.”
And Tom always followed through on his word.
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#tom grant smut#joseph quinn smut#tom grant#joseph quinn#tom grant make up#tom grant x y/n#tom grant x you#tom grant x reader#joseph quinn x y/n#joseph quinn x you#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn fic#my writing
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