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sofmoth · 1 month

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Good Men Die Too

DO NOT BOTHER INTERACTING IF YOUR BIO IS AGELESS OR YOUR BLOG IS BLANK.

thank u @strang3lov3 for your editing assistance (as well as the encouragement to actually write this) and thank u @sweetenerobert for so kindly beta reading<3

also posted to AO3 by me (@sofmoth). link here.

divider created by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

tommy miller (the last of us) x reader. WC: 8.5k

18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT.

HEED ALL WARNINGS:

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. no outbreak AU, early 2000s AU. reader is an 18 year-old high school senior, tommy is a 20 year-old high school senior (held back twice in 8th grade), football player!tommy, cheerleader!reader. tommy speaks spanish, reader speaks and understands spanish (for translations, click the AO3 link and see ending notes). semi-protected sex (no use of condoms, reader is on birth control), PIV sex, loss of virginity, multiple female orgasms, multiple instances of sex. porn with plot, porn with feelings, the feelings are reciprocated but never said out loud. implied gun violence, gun violence confirmed. tommy is insecure and doesn't want to end up like his dad (not super doing anything to prevent this). relationship is implied but never explicity acknowledged between them. teenagers fuck and if you can't handle that, that's a you problem (play w ur mama not me). once more for the cheap seats, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

You stand well down the hall, leaning against the lockers, slyly peeking the twenty feet up at him. You’re watching him carefully slip something into his locker. You know that shape; it’s the same shape that sent his father to prison. One of his friends saunters toward him, saying something in eighth grade-level Spanish and signaling with his hand. You can see his eyes glow as you watch him deny, vehemently, that he does not, in fact, have what his friend is announcing.

I saw you.

You see he’s chosen once again to not wear the uniform, not the slacks, not even his football jersey. Definitely working after last period. The white t-shirt he wears makes him look smaller at this angle, but when he turns in your direction the breadth of his shoulders obviously matches his brother’s. He slams his locker shut, raises his chin a bit, and his eyes meet yours for one scorching second before he smirks and looks away. You feel your back melding with the steel.

It’s gonna be a long fucking day.

Your face feels hot until lunch. You decide to sneak out to the football field, picking a spot at the top of the grandstands with a clear view of the parking lot. There he is. Hanging around a Ford Taurus with a few other guys, all of whom graduated when he should have. He’s sitting on the hood of the car, smoking lazily. One of the guys sneakily hands a tiny red package of something to someone who definitely does not attend the school, tucks the wad of green into his pocket. You can see him look back at the other guys and shake his head, wave his hand dismissively. Your fingers curl around the chain link fencing keeping you from falling off the back edge, your breath leaves your chest. You don’t feel like going back inside when the bell rings, content to stay up and out of his sight to watch. But he goes back in, so you do too.

You pay no attention the rest of the day, drawing a few scattered laughs when the teacher snaps at you for daydreaming. Last bell finally rings and you hurry out front, rolling and tucking the waist of your horrible plaid skirt up and in twice as you walk. You know when he’ll be walking out, strategically unlocking your bike at that moment. You can feel his gaze on the exposed skin of your thighs, keeping your eyes down as you situate yourself on the seat.

“Tommy! Deja de mirar y métete al mierda auto. Tengo que darle el bebé a Martina.”

“Vete a la chingada, Joel.”

Mission success.

You glance up as you pedal past, making a point to raise your hand to Joel as you cross in front of the car. He nods and waves politely, Tommy pointedly looks away. You remember Martina, Joel’s fiancé. They graduated together when you were in sixth grade, at that point still two years behind Tommy. Joel got Martina pregnant a few years later, and by that time you were in the eighth grade. Tommy had managed to stay in exactly the same place. The baby definitely isn’t a baby anymore. Maybe it’s different when it’s your kid.

You pedal just a bit behind the car, enough to stay out of the way as you watch Joel pull off. You shrug out of your blazer, stuffing it into your backpack and pushing up the sleeves of your stiff dress shirt. It isn’t weird for you to follow them– you live right across the street. Besides, it’s not like Tommy is going to be there anyway. That’s the whole reason Joel picked him up, they’re definitely going to a job. You still allow for quite a bit of distance before you finally begin making your way home.

By the time you do make it home, Joel’s car is still in the driveway. You drop your bike off at the side of your garage, walking slowly around to your front porch. You can hear an argument, a small child crying. You see Joel and Martina hurrying out, Martina carrying the toddler. You can still hear the argument over the engine rumble as they leave.

“¡Nos estás destruyendo, Tomás! ¡Tienes veinte años! Mira a tu hermano, él–”

“¡Nunca seré como Joel, mamá! ¿Cuándo vas a ver eso?”

Your shoulders twitch as their front door slams open and shut again, Tommy storming out past his truck to the other car, jacket in hand. You hurry inside; that argument was none of your business. You gossip. You still peek out your blinds as the beige Mercury roars to life, Tommy whipping out of the driveway in reverse. He’s on his way to find trouble. Make trouble. You’re sure you’ll see his face on the evening news, but you still hope you won’t. Five o’clock rolls around, and you sigh relieved when you don’t.

— — — —

Today you opt not to take your usual spot to stare, instead choosing to patrol the hallways. You see him, leaning against a locker and talking to a freshman girl. You tune in carefully, they’re only talking about her brother getting benched for his grades. Tommy is almost wearing the uniform, khaki slacks fitting his thighs mind-numbingly perfectly. Only God knows where his blazer is. His sleeves are rolled up, his tan forearms seemingly glowing golden in the combination of fluorescent overhead lights and early-morning sun streaming through the huge windows. You make a point not to look at him, instead allowing his gaze to follow your movement. If this is how he wants to do it, fine. You’re good at this game.

You are not so good at dodgeball.

Forty minutes later, you find yourself in the nurse’s office with an ice pack pressed gingerly against your zygomatic bone, and you can feel the bruise forming. You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your gym shorts, sighing through your nose. If it had been anyone else, you’d probably be thinking what a fucking dick. But it was Tommy who launched the rubber ball directly into your skull with far more force than necessary, Tommy who immediately covered his face with his hands and turned away in embarrassment. So instead you find yourself thinking he noticed, he cared. You will get him back, though.

The bell rings and you change back into your uniform in the bathroom, scribbling a short note on some scrap paper before scurrying down the hall. You slip the paper through the slats in his locker, turning sharply around and walking back to the office. You’ll sign yourself out for the day, forge your mother’s handwriting, probably won’t be back for a few days.

— — — —

It’s been three days of Tommy stealing looks at you as you sunbathe in your front yard during the afternoons, lingering a bit too long outside the car before entering the house. Three days of Joel averting his gaze as obviously as he can, three days of you catching a glimpse of Tommy gripping his cock through his pants where he thinks you can’t see. Three nights of you, knuckles-deep in your own pussy, wishing it was Tommy’s strong hands instead. You’re going to make it happen. First he needs to admit it. Whether to you or himself, it doesn’t matter.

You ride your bike to the school in the middle of the day, locking it to the tall fence surrounding the football field. It would be easier if you had bothered going to your classes- you wouldn’t have to scale said fence- but you do it anyway. You climb up in the grandstands, taking the same place as before, scouring the parking lot. There he is.

You press your forehead to the chain links, sighing. You watch him smoke, and this time he’s sitting on the hood of the Mercury. He’s wearing his jersey today, like every other football player on Friday. If you’d come to school today you’d be wearing your borderline-skimpy cheer uniform, and you wonder briefly if you’d have more luck if you were wearing it now. He flicks the butt of his cigarette away, lights another one. It looks like he’s fiddling with something in his other hand, you can see him shaking his head.

He looks up, locks eyes with you as he exhales. You find yourself doing the same, melting into the fencing. He slides off the hood, places his cigarette between his lips and tucks his hand into his back pocket for a moment. Tommy clears the fence in two hops, his bouncing walk carrying him swiftly and effortlessly up the metal stairs to you. You turn a bit, hiding the yellowing bruise as you play with your long sleeves. He sits a few feet away, leaning back into the fence. You can see him looking you up and down and you smirk a little.

“Me gusta todo negro. Reina de la noche, ¿verdad?” You laugh. You can see him smile.

“That’s not gonna work on me. Nice try, though.” He scoots a bit closer, pulls the paper you’d slipped into his locker from his pocket.

“So. You owe me a black eye?”

“It’s only fair.”

“Hm. And I couldn’t help but notice there’s also something about some kissing.”

“Yeah. Why, you come to collect?”

“Maybe.”

You tuck your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them. He flicks his ash away and drops the butt through the fence, eyes scanning your face.

“I really am sorry about the dodgeball. I wasn’t aiming for you.” You roll your eyes.

“That makes it all better, thanks.” He huffs.

He slides steadily closer, close enough to hook his finger through the loops of your shoelaces. He tugs them a few times, all a lopsided boyish grin as you tap him with your toe. He looks so young like this. His grin drops and he swallows harshly.

“You know I suck, right?” His voice is low, you shake your head.

“Not to me.”

“My dad’s a convicted murderer, he’s waiting on death row right now.”

“You’re not him, though.”

“My brother is leagues ahead of me. He’d already started his business when he was twenty. I’m still a senior in high school.”

“Tommy.”

“All I’ve got going for me is football. I’m a liar, I steal, my friends are drug dealers. You…” He laughs softly, looks away and licks his lip. “You’re better than that. I know you get up to shit too but it doesn’t matter, you’re still good. I’m not good.” You rest your hand over his on your shoe, tracing a vein with your pinkie nail. Your voice falls to a whisper.

“You’re the only version of you I’d want.”

He searches your face for a moment, you can’t tell if he came up empty. When he speaks his voice is soft.

“Do I have to get the black eye first? Or is it like an IOU situat–” You cut him off, pressing your lips firmly to his.

Your fingers rest against his neck, his other hand comes up to cover yours. You can feel him touching your stupid fucking purity ring. You move your hand farther back to the nape of his neck, his soft curls gracing the pads of your fingertips as you thread them in. His tongue in your mouth makes your chest feel hot, your ears fill with the sound of television static as he squeezes your thigh. The taste of his cigarette makes your head feel fuzzy, and you don’t notice until he pulls away that you’d forgotten to breathe. He swallows, chuckles softly.

“So does that count as one or like… ten kisses?” You huff out a laugh, roll your eyes.

“I’ll let you know after you win tonight.”

“What happens if we don’t win?”

“You’ll get your black eye.” Tommy laughs.

“Shit, okay. We gotta win now.”

He cautiously laces his fingers into yours, you close your eyes and lean back into the fence. You sit in silence together for a few minutes, Tommy ignoring whatever bell rings.

“You want a ride home?” Slick motherfucker.

“No thanks. Weather’s too nice. But maybe tonight.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Alright. Just let me know.” You squeeze his hand gently.

“You should get back to class.”

You dodge him as he leans in, smirking as his mouth falls open. You stand and stretch, arms above your head, yelping a little as he grabs your waist and pulls you between his legs. He presses his face to your chest and inhales, hands climbing your back. Your head drops backward and you feel your fingers tangling in his hair. God, you’re weak. You force yourself to pull away.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You turn quickly and practically run down the steps.

You climb back over the fence as gracefully as you can, unlocking your bike and pedaling over to Tommy. He looks down and laughs, shaking his head. You wave up at him as you pass, smiling to yourself as you leave the parking lot and head home.

— — — —

Joel was nice enough to offer you a ride back to the school for the game, but you suspect Tommy had something to do with it. You deny twice, just like you were taught, and graciously accept the third time.

“You managing okay with your mama being out of town?”

“I’m doin’ okay. Fridge is stocked, if that’s what you mean. She’ll be back on Sunday anyway.”

“Alright. If you need anything you can ask any time. A ride, a meal, anything. We’re not hurtin’ and I’m happy to help.”

“I appreciate it, Joel. Thank you.” He pulls up to the locker room and you climb out, tugging your skirt into place. “Tell Señora Miller I said hi.” He laughs.

“¿Cual señora?” You grin, ducking to look at him.

“Tu madre.” You shut the car door and wave as he drives off.

By the start of halftime you’re up two touchdowns and a field goal. He really doesn’t want that black eye. You decide to sneak off to the bathrooms, not sure if you need to piss but definitely needing a cigarette. You’re a bit surprised to see Tommy around the dark corner of the small building.

“Shouldn’t you be in the locker room?” He jumps a little, laughs softly.

“Scared the shit out of me. Yes, I should. Shouldn’t you be sittin’ pretty on the track?” You flip him off.

“Yes, I should. But I needed a cigarette.”

“Fair enough.” You sit down next to him, tucking your legs under yourself.

You pull a half-smushed cigarette out of your bra and place it between your lips. Tommy stares at you, exhaling his smoke slowly. You groan. You’re not sure where your lighter is, but it’s definitely not in the band of your spankies anymore. He flicks open his Zippo, holds it out to you and you lean in, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you inhale. You exhale through the corner of your mouth, looking at your lipstick on the filter. You can hear him swallow, see him ash his cigarette out of the corner of your eye.

“Me gusta ese color en ti.” His voice is soft.

“Again, that’s not gonna work on me.”

“Se vería más bonito todo jodido.”

“Ay, para.”

You stub out your cigarette, grabbing his face and pulling him in. He kisses you aggressively, lacing his fingers through your hair. You whimper as he bites your lip and pulls you onto his lap, sliding his hand up the back of your thigh to your ass. You pull away a little, running your thumb over his lip.

“This is so juvenile.” Tommy snorts a laugh, shakes his head.

“Who gives a shit?” He kisses across your jaw and down your neck, your eyelids fluttering.

“Slow your roll, Miller. We’ve only got ten minutes until third quarter and you still have to go put your pads back on.”

You kiss his cheek, climbing off his lap and fixing your skirt. He stands, looking down at you and shaking his head.

“You sure shake that head a lot.”

“Just hard to believe you sometimes.” You scowl.

“Fuck is that supposed to mean?” He holds your face in his hands.

“Cool it. It’s not a bad thing.” Your eyes roll. “I’m serious. Stop tryna tease me or piss me off or whatever you’re doin’. It’s not gonna work.”

You lick your thumb, reaching up to swipe it over his cheek. He swats at you gently.

“Leave it. They’re not gonna bench me for having a little lipstick on my face.”

“Whatever you say. You still oughta hustle.”

“Fine. Hey, you think any more about that ride home?”

“I’m still thinking. Find me later, I’ll let you know.”

You practically bounce back to the track, sitting and tucking your legs. One of your squadmates discretely hands you a makeup wipe and her tube of lipstick.

The end of third quarter proves enough to get Tommy and one opposing linebacker both benched. The linebacker went after Tommy, Tommy didn’t appreciate it. Helmets came off, a few blows landed, coaches pulled them apart. You watch him moping on the bench, an ice pack held to his face the same way you did on Tuesday. He turns to face the cheer squad, lands on you. You wave at him from your hip, one corner of your mouth quirking up as he waves back. One of the junior varsity girls giggles something about him waving at her, you almost tell her to shut the fuck up.

He doesn’t want you, bitch.

— — — —

The game finally ends, and you end up losing by one field goal. You mill around outside the locker room, waiting for Tommy to come out. When he does, his hair is wet from his shower and you see he’s rocking the beginnings of a serious shiner.

“Well, we didn’t win. Guess I’m about to have two black eyes?”

“Nah. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Since we made out earlier does that mean we’re square on the kisses?”

“Only if you want to be.”

“Let me give you that ride and I’ll let you know.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and guides you through the parking lot to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. Señora must have needed the Mercury. You climb in, smiling softly at him. He tries to leap over the hood and you laugh, covering your mouth as he nearly falls. Your head tips back against the headrest, watching him as he plays it off and slings himself into the driver’s seat. He looks over at you, eyeing you up and down. You turn your head to face him.

“Like what you see?”

He doesn’t say anything, resting his elbow on the shoulder of your seat. He rests his other hand high on your thigh, stroking the skin delicately.

“You gonna answer me?” It comes out weaker than you mean for it to.

“I think you know the answer.”

He brushes a bit of your hair over your ear, taking a lock between his fingers. You force your shoulders to relax, exhaling slowly through your nose. Tommy squeezes your thigh.

“Let’s get you home.” You can only nod.

He turns in his seat, starting the truck and resting his right hand back on your thigh. You’re on edge the entire way home, your chest feels hot and your hands tremble in your lap. Tommy’s hand slides up your thigh a bit, you feel your cheeks warming. He parks in your driveway, looks over at you.

“Let me walk you up?” You give him a small smile.

“Sure.”

He climbs out, walks around the front and opens your door for you. He offers his arm and you step down, shutting the door behind yourself. He holds your hand as he walks you up to your porch, sliding to your waist as you stop. You lean up on your toes, holding his face gently. You kiss him softly, feel his hand come to rest on your bare bicep. You lean back, look up at him.

“You can come in.” He smiles, shakes his head a little.

“I don’t wanna impose.”

“You should come in.” He chuckles.

“Alright.”

You stoop and pull the key from under the mat, unlocking the door and gesturing him inside. He steps in, looking around as he hangs his jacket on the coat rack. You lock the door behind you, leaning back against it to watch him.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna go get changed real quick, I’ll be right back.” He nods and smiles with half his mouth, kicking his shoes off and claiming a spot on the couch.

You don’t close your bedroom door all the way, leaving it open enough to give Tommy a bit of a view and to see him sneakily looking back at it. You keep your direct gaze averted, only watching him from your periphery. Out of habit you press the play button on the disc player atop your dresser and strip out of your uniform, lingering absently near the door.

God damn, will you grow a pair?

You look at yourself in your mirror, wishing for a moment you had prettier underwear. Something lacy, something sexy. Something that isn’t so plain or simple, something to make him want to want you. The string of dying Christmas lights above your bed casts a splotchy pastel glow over everything, and you’re hoping it ups the appeal. You close your eyes, shaking your head as you sit on the edge of your mattress near your pillows. You thank God your mother had finally caved and bought you a full; your old twin most certainly wouldn’t accommodate the two of you.

Now or never, pussy.

“Hey Tommy, can you come back here for a second?” You yell up the hall, peeking to watch him stand and shake out his hands. He seems almost nervous.

The floor squeaks softly under his steps, the doorknob rattles as he places his hand on it. He pushes the door open, keeping his eyes down. You pull your legs up, tucking them to your chest and resting your arms on your knees. He steals a glance and his grip tightens.

“Come sit with me.” Your voice is soft, much softer than you want it to be. He looks up at you finally and you see him swallow.

He enters fully, shutting the door and walking slowly over to you. He sits, adjusting his legs open a bit. You can’t help yourself, looking down at his crotch and quickly looking back up.

“I let you drive me home. You decide whether or not we’re square yet?” One hand drifts to his thigh, tracing over the inseam of his jeans with your nail.

“Yes I did.” He slips a finger under your bra strap, your breath catches as he tugs it down over your shoulder.

“What’s the verdict?”

“I think you still owe me a few.”

Your legs spread without a thought as Tommy pushes you onto your back. His hands are warm on your bare sides, his rough calluses keeping you from floating away. He slots one of his knees between your legs, you gasp as the denim meets the gusset of your panties. His nose presses to the hollow of your neck, hot breath moistening your skin. You feel lightheaded, reaching up to knot your fingers in his still-damp hair, tugging when you feel his teeth on your shoulder. You can feel his chest rumble against yours, the kissing on your neck growing near-frantic as you grind against his leg.

He pulls away quickly, sitting up and practically ripping his shirt off. He leans back over you equally fast, pushing one of your legs aside. You feel him push his hand down into your panties and everything that follows is involuntary; your back arches up into his chest, your eyes cross. You feel his cheek against yours and you want to cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and dragging him closer to you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s following the music, his thick fingers pumping in and out of you steadily in time with the guitar. You feel yourself starting to tremble, breath quickening as your eyes roll back.

“Damélo, princesa.”

You motherfucker.

It feels like you’ve been hit by a train, black and white spots dotting your vision as his pace slows and he shushes you softly, mumbling something you don’t have the energy to decipher. He withdraws his fingers and you can feel him starting to lean back, wrapping your arms around him tighter and pulling him back. He kisses your cheek.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. Just gotta get this fuckin’ belt off.” He pulls away gently and you sit up.

“Let me.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows, holds his hands up. He sits back on his heels, displaying himself for you. You wet your bottom lip, leaning up and kissing him. You tangle your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, feeling his hands resting on your neck as your other hand tugs at the leather tucked around his waist. You’re shocked by yourself for a moment, at the ease and speed with which you manage to undo the buckle. Tommy seems equally surprised.

“Now I don’t know for sure, but that little ring tells me you haven’t done this before. On the other hand, you did that a bit too well. You been holdin’ out on me?” You roll your eyes.

“You’d like to shut the fuck up before I change my mind.”

“Duly noted.”

You wrap the buckle up in your fist, winding the leather around your wrist and pulling it away from him. You drop it to the floor; it hits with a satisfying thunk. You feel bold now, resting your fingertips on his fly. He tilts your chin up with one finger, nods in encouragement. You smirk, pushing him onto his back. He folds his arms behind his head, watching you. Pinche vaquero. You unbutton his jeans, unzipping them slowly as he reaches down to pet your hair. His knuckles glide over your cheek and you lean into them, eyelids fluttering.

“¿Te gusta, princesa?”

You gnash your teeth at his hand, gasping as he swiftly threads his fingers into your hair and tugs your head backward.

“None of that now. Need you to be sweet, alright?” He loosens his grip almost immediately, you nod and lean down to the waistband of his boxers.

You kiss his skin softly, smiling to yourself as his chest rumbles. He tangles his fingers back in your hair, seemingly more as an anchor point than for control. Fuck. He smells like Irish Spring, your eyes rolling back behind your closed lids as you slide down and kiss his bulge.

“Carajo, princesa. Either this isn’t your first time or you watch too much porn.”

“Less than you, pendejo. I’ve gotta steal your WiFi to do it.”

“Pendejo? You’re in for it now.” You yelp as he sits up, practically lunging at you and knocking you back.

He pushes you down into your mattress, you giggle as he nips at your ear. He props himself up, off of you, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he looks over your features. His frown lines are soft, already-dark eyes now black in the light. Something hidden deep behind them. Let me in.

“Eres la chica sobre todo hermosa que he visto en mi vida.” He whispers, barely audible.

“I’ve already told you–”

“Es la verdad.” He kisses you slowly, sweetly.

You exhale shakily, mouth opening against his as your back arches and his hand snakes under you. He unclasps your bra deftly and for a moment you feel a stinging in your chest, something like anger that you didn’t get to have him first. You suddenly feel his palm on your bare breast, inhaling sharply at the sensation.

“Take off those fuckin’ jeans.” You feel dizzy, watching as he maneuvers the denim off his legs and onto the floor.

He presses his nose to your sternum, sighing raggedly as he pushes his hips against yours. You cover your mouth with your hand, your attempt to stifle your moan ruined as Tommy moves your wrist away from your face. He pins it to your pillow, his other hand still under you and squeezing your ass. You drape your free arm over his shoulders, his forehead coming to rest gently on yours. He’s almost pulling you in, pelvis steadily rolling into you.

“Jesus Christ, I’ve gotta fuck you.” He sounds close to begging.

“Please.” You will beg, you don’t care anymore.

He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your panties, raising his eyes to meet yours and you nod. He tugs them down, borderline whining as you’re exposed.

“Dios maldito, princesa.”

He does whine now, dropping your panties and pressing his lips to your knee. He curses under his breath, shoving his boxers off before pushing your thighs apart. He situates himself between them, taking your left hand and inspecting it as he slides his cock slowly up and down through your folds.

“Tell you a secret?” His voice is a whisper.

“Anything.” Your voice quivers.

“Kinda always wanted to do something like this. Sorta fucked up though, isn’t it?” He looks you in the eyes as he removes the silver purity ring, placing it gingerly on your nightstand.

“You know that’s why I want you.”

He drops your hand gently, kisses you firmly. You gasp against his mouth as you feel the head of his cock splitting you open, your breath quickening as he pushes further in. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his chest, whimpering into his skin as he holds the back of your head, shushing you softly. He groans as he bottoms out, the sound rippling in your ear as if through water.

“Buen trabajo, princesa. Maldita sea, joder.” He shushes you again as he slowly pulls out, reentering just as slowly.

“Fuck, Tommy. Oh my fucking God.” Your vision is fuzzy, hands cold and face on fire.

You knot your fingers in his hair, legs burning from the distance they’re spread. He rolls his hips into you evenly, keeping a slow pace with the music as Chino Moreno serenades you both. Your thoughts flutter around the idea of giving Tommy road head, riding him in the backseat of the Mercury, him eating you in the bed of his truck. You tug his head back and he whimpers, kissing you roughly as the aggressive vocals suddenly quiet. He takes your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the pillow above you as his pace begins accelerating. You pull experimentally, testing to see how tightly he’s holding you. He eases his grip, doesn’t remove his hand.

“Just tell me to stop or slow down and I will. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m okay. You can go faster if you want.”

“I wanna fuck you through this mattress. Do you want it faster?” You nod and he nudges your chin up to look at him.

“Sí o no, princesa.”

“Yes.” He kisses you again, cradling your cheek.

Oh, fuck. He’s been granted permission, now fucking into you at tempo. You gasp, pulling your wrists free in earnest, nails finding purchase on his back. He hisses, biting your lip and groping the flesh of your waist. You pull away, pushing your forehead against his chest and moaning brokenly. You nearly scream as his fingers circle your clit, tears beading in your eyelashes from the stimulation. You feel yourself trembling, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as the rubber band snaps.

“Cosita sensible, ¿no?” He doesn’t stop, teasing the sensitive nerves with his fingertips.

The tears finally fall, your hips jerking into his hand as you’re immediately hit with a second orgasm. Your chest feels tight, cheeks hot. He pulls his hand away, kissing you softly before slowly pulling out. You whine involuntarily at the sudden emptiness, Tommy shushing you as he slides up to lean against your headboard.

“On my lap, princesa. Want you to try something.”

He takes your hand as you push yourself up, focusing on keeping your breath steady as you take your place over his thighs. He kisses you sweetly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he strokes his cock.

“I want you to sit on it. Think you can do that?” You bite your lip, looking away and back quickly.

“I can try.”

“That’s my girl. I’ve got you, just take your time.”

My girl.

He holds your hips gently as you shift up, squeezing reassuringly as you begin lowering yourself onto his length. Christ, he’s thick. You whimper, biting your hand as you pause.

“You’re doin’ good, baby. Fuck, you feel good.” He whispers, removing your fingers from between your teeth and pulling you close to his chest. “I’ll do the rest, just relax for me.”

He pushes up into you slowly, moaning softly as you dig your nails into his bicep. You gasp sharply as he snaps his hips once, burying himself inside you. He holds you there for a moment, kissing your forehead before exhaling raggedly.

“You’re okay, just gotta get used to it. Fuck. Gonna move you, alright?” You nod, out of breath and your limbs weak.

He rests one hand firmly on your hip, the other around your waist as he slowly guides you to grind on him. You sigh, eyes rolling back at the sheer fullness. You don’t feel totally conscious, arms snaking around his neck seemingly with minds of their own. You become vaguely aware that Tommy’s hand is no longer moving you, instead suddenly feeling him squeezing your thigh. Your legs are shaking, all sound around you is dulled.

“Hey, come back to me.”

You shake your head, the movement of your hips stopping and you force yourself to focus.

“You still here?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Your voice nearly fails you, your words airy and barely audible.

“I guess now’s a little late to ask if you’re on the pill.”

“I am, sorry. Wasn’t even thinkin’ about it.”

“S’okay. Look at me, baby.” You blink hard, tilting your face up.

God must be real.

He looks beautiful like this. His hair is mussed, the now-dry curls sticking out from around his ears and tipping onto his forehead. The freckles across his nose seem to create constellations. There is nothing hiding behind his eyes anymore. There he is.

“God damn, I’m close. I’m gonna fuck you like this, okay? Just relax, you can take it.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, fucking up into you fast and hard. You yelp, melting into him as he holds your head against his neck, one arm encircling your waist. His breathing is jagged, you feel him press his lips to your shoulder as he attempts to stifle a moan. You can feel his hands twitch, pressing closer to him.

I’ll never get close enough.

He gasps sharply, thrusting hard one final time. You cry out, practically jumping as he holds your hips down to his. He wraps his arms around your torso tightly, dragging his nose up the side of your neck. His breath comes out trembling and heavy, his entire body now twitching against yours. You try to focus on the fading guitar riffs, eyes closed as you attempt to calm your racing heartbeat.

The disc player clicks a few moments later, a soft chhh as the CD stops spinning. You swallow, leaning back to look over Tommy’s expression. He kisses you softly, brushing your hair over your ear before tipping his head back against your headboard. You laugh a little, he raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Either you love Deftones or you only fuck with music playing.” He rolls his eyes, smiles.

“I live with my entire family. The only time I get any privacy is when I have music on.”

He pulls out of you slowly, rolls you carefully onto your back. You run your fingers through his hair as he rubs your bicep with his knuckles. He finally begins to look around your room, taking in the decor and dirty laundry scattered about your carpet. He points at one particular heap on the floor.

“You should wear that tomorrow. Look good with my suit.” Oh fuck. Fuckin’ homecoming.

“Your suit? Or Joel’s?” He rolls his eyes and you smirk. “And how exactly do you know what you’re pointing at?”

“My suit. And I live with two women, I ain’t blind. C’mon. I’ll buy you a corsage and everything.”

“Pick me up at five then.”

— — — —

He kisses you goodbye in the morning, lingering in the front door frame far longer than necessary. Promises he’ll be on time, he’ll probably even be a little early. You giggle at him, kissing him one last time before shutting the door behind him. You watch out the blinds as he backs out of your driveway and re-parks along the street gutter in front of his house, raising his hand to your house as he walks inside.

By 4:30 you stand in front of your mirror, severely second-guessing yourself. You feel like Angela Bettis in Carrie, and you could vomit from the nerves. At 4:50 a knock on your front door scares you out of your stupor, rushing from your room to answer it. You put an eye up to the peephole, exhaling shakily and adjusting your stole. You smooth the fabric of your dress, hoping you didn’t stain it with the sweat from your palms. You pull the door open, greeted by Tommy’s impish grin. He’s hiding his hands behind his back, fidgeting a little. Joel stands behind him with his arms crossed, holding a digital camera.

“Hey. You’re early.” Your voice is soft.

“Told you I would be. I hope it’s okay that Joel—”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Come on in.”

You stand aside to allow them entry, swallowing as you close the door. Joel looks around for a moment, Tommy reveals his hands. He holds out a little plastic box, a corsage of a peony and baby’s breath within. You grin and laugh airily, taking it and turning it around in your hands.

“Told you I’d get you one.”

“Hey now, don’t be puttin’ it on yet. I gotta turn on the damn camera.”

“Hold the red button, pendejo. Told you a million times.”

Tommy rolls his eyes and smiles sweetly down at you.

“Te ves bonita.”

“Tú tampoco estás mal.”

Joel takes a few photos of the two of you, nodding approvingly every other shutter click. He walks out behind you and Tommy, taps on your window after Tommy helps you into the truck. You crank it down, eyebrow raised as he takes your hand.

“He does anything to hurt you, you call me. I know you can take care of yourself but boy would I love to get a lick in, too.” You laugh, squeezing Joel’s fingers.

“I’ll make sure to. Thanks for taking the pictures.”

“Anytime, kid. Y’all behave tonight.”

You look over at Tommy, holding his face in his hands as he rests his forehead against the steering wheel.

“Oye, pinga. Te estoy hablando.”

“¡Lo sé, maldita sea!”

You cover your mouth, holding in your laughter. Joel winks to you, thumping the base of the window and stepping back. You crank it back up, waving at him as the truck roars to life and Tommy pulls away. He rests his hand on your thigh, absentmindedly stroking the fabric with his thumb.

“Hey, you okay?” He blinks hard.

“Yeah, fine.” You shrink into yourself.

You inspect the corsage on your wrist, run your finger over the petals on the peony. You reach the one red light on the way to the school, Tommy squeezes your thigh gently. You look over at him.

“Wait for me in the bleachers, okay? I gotta do something real quick when we get there.”

“What is it?”

“Nothin’ you gotta worry about. Just gotta grab something.”

“Please don’t be dealing tonight.” You look away, covering your eyes with your hand.

“Hey, no. I’m not. Promise. I just left some shit the other day, I’m gonna grab it and put it in the back. Then you can shake as much ass on me as you want.” You huff a weak laugh.

“Not really my speed.”

“Then we can just sit, that’s fine too.”

The light changes, Tommy reaches over and brushes your hair behind your ear as he accelerates. He rests his hand back on your thigh, barely touching it.

“I’m not gonna start anything, just gonna have a good night with my girl.” You nod, placing your hand over his.

“Okay.”

— — — —

It’s nearly midnight. The dance ended hours ago, and as promised Tommy didn’t start anything. Now, you find yourself sitting on the lowered gate of his truck bed in a decent-sized crop circle with twenty or so other people milling around. A few of the underclass girls have proven they can’t handle their alcohol, and you try to tune out their retching as you watch the bonfire someone made. Tommy had wrapped his varsity jacket around your shoulders not long after you arrived, your stole not nearly enough to keep you from shivering. You hear footsteps coming toward you and look in their direction, seeing Tommy coming your way and offering a cigarette. You take it and place it between your lips, meeting the burning end of his and inhaling.

“Havin’ any fun?”

“It’s okay.” You lower your voice. “I know some folks but I don’t really run with anyone here.” Tommy hums.

“We can head out soon if you want?”

“I’m not gonna stop you from having a good time with your friends. We can stay.” He nods, takes his cigarette between his fingers and kisses your forehead.

One of the football players calls him over, he looks at you and you nod. He kisses you quickly, jogging off. You sit alone smoking for a moment, staring up into the sky at the stars. The shuffling sound of a group of drunk tenth-grade girls headed toward you pulls you back. You flick your ash away, eyeing the JV cheerleaders. Same fuckin’ bitch. The one who got it in her head Tommy had waved at her leads them, and she looks pissed.

“You fuckin’ slut.”

“I know you’re not talking to me. Not 27 hours ago I was still wearing my purity ring. When’d you get rid of yours again?”

“Bitch!”

She screeches, grabbing your arm and yanking so hard you think for a moment she must have dislocated your shoulder. You fall, hitting the dead ends of the corn stalks and shrieking. You lay face-down for a moment, eyes closed. You can hear a few of the guys yelling, the JV bitch screeching again as a senior girl grabs her. There are several voices around you, and you pick out Tommy’s, but you can’t quite understand what he’s saying. You open your eyes slowly, losing sight of his dress shoes for a moment before six shots ring out, everyone around you screaming and hitting the ground. He reappears before you, lifting you gently and setting you inside the cab. He shuts the door, his yelling muffled. The driver door slams and you jump.

“We’re goin’ home.” You can only nod; he sounds furious.

You stop in town on the way back, Tommy jumping out to make a call. You watch him feed the dimes into the payphone, watch as he paces around, stretching the cord to its limit. You can’t tell what he’s saying but his free hand moves wildly. He hangs the receiver back on the hook, scrubs his hands over his face before lighting a cigarette. He looks down at the sidewalk briefly, climbing back into the truck.

“What did you do?” You can’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. He exhales slowly.

“Don’t worry about it. Everything’s fine.”

“Tommy.”

“Nobody died.”

You lean your head against the window, pull his varsity jacket tighter around yourself. The two of you are silent for the remainder of the ride, and you let yourself out once in your driveway. You walk up to your front door in a daze, walking into the house and back to your bedroom. You sit on the edge of your bed, looking down and noticing your corsage was crushed at some point. You can feel hot tears stinging your eyes, the mattress sinking next to you. You can’t help yourself, leaning into Tommy’s side as you begin to sob. He shushes you softly, wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair. You finally catch your breath, wiping your face with the back of your hand and pulling away from him carefully.

“Hey. Look at me, princesa.” You force your eyes up to meet his.

“Tommy, just tell me. What the hell did you do?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, laughs awkwardly.

“The guy who invited that little girl, Liam? He started… mouthing off, calling you a slut and a whore and all that shit.” He swallows. “I shot up his fuckin’ car. Made sure no one would say anything but I swear to God I didn’t hit anybody.”

You flop back, staring at your ceiling. You can feel more tears forming, Tommy leans over you and brushes your cheek delicately.

“Everything’s okay. Promise.” You chuckle weakly, a few tears slide down over your temples.

“Bitch crushed my fuckin’ flower.” He rests his forehead against yours, a cut-off laugh escaping his throat. He kisses you softly.

“That’s what you’re crying over?” His voice is low, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s special.”

You place your hand over his wrist, squeezing a little. You close your eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing.

“You’d thought I sent that bitch to hell, didn’t you?” You laugh, covering your mouth and rolling half away. You wipe your eyes again, reaching over and ruffling his hair.

“Can’t say I woulda been very upset if you had.”

“Damn, tell me how you really feel.”

“You don’t wanna know.”

You sit up, shrugging off Tommy’s jacket and hanging it from the post at the foot of your bed. You toss your stole to the floor, slipping off your corsage and resting it carefully on your nightstand, kicking off your heels as you lean over to rest your head on your pillow. You close your eyes, feeling the bed shift as Tommy scoots up behind you.

“Y’know you oughta cut that hair soon. They’re gonna start dress coding you.” You lean back into his chest as he wraps his arm over you.

“Fuck them. I’ve been thinking about growing it out anyway.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t see why not. I think I’d look good.”

You smile, holding his palm against your cheek as he strokes your arm with his other hand.

“That’s not a dealbreaker then?” His voice is soft, you hum quizzically.

“You’re just growing your hair out.” He snorts, you feel him shake his head.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean… somebody starts talking shit and I— ”

“No.” His lips press to your shoulder blade.

“I’m just like my fuckin’ dad.” His voice trembles..

“No you’re not.”

He pushes his face against the back of your neck, exhaling slowly. You hear a siren wailing in the distance and he tenses, relaxing only as it fades.

“Don’t know how many times I’ve gotta tell you I’m not a good man.”

“You’re good to me.”

“Ain’t the same, princesa.” You pull away enough to roll over and look at him. “My mom was right, I’m the one tearin’ everything apart. You deserve someone good, someone better than me. God damn, maybe if I was more like Joel—” You shush him.

“No, I already told you. You’re the only version of you I’d want.”

He caresses your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. He kisses you softly, you run your fingers through his hair as he squeezes your hip. He kisses you more urgently, you grab his tie and pull him closer. He moans deep in his chest, palming over your tits and rolling his hips into you.

“God, we’re fucked up.”

“I don’t care.”

He pulls away, frantically unbuckling his belt and pushing up the skirt of your dress. You inhale sharply through your teeth as his tongue hits the fabric covering your pussy, eyes rolling back as he kisses over your thighs.

“Vamos a quitárnoslas, princesa.” You whimper as he nearly rips your panties off, throwing them to the floor and pulling your hips to meet his face.

You gasp, hips bucking into his mouth as his tongue teases your clit. You feel your eyes starting to water, breathing becoming erratic. You could scream when he finally stops teasing, holding your thighs over his shoulders. You knot your fingers in his hair, grinding against his tongue as you reach down to find his hand. He laces your fingers together, you whine as he hums against your skin.

There’s something about finding out after the fact, about not knowing he was packing the entire night. Something about knowing he used it in defense of you. You feel yourself gush against his tongue, he moans and squeezes your hand. He doesn’t stop, kissing and sucking your clit even as your tears begin to fall. He only stops when you pull his hair, tugging his head away.

“God, I need you to fuck me.” He leans up over you, kissing you as he unbuttons his slacks.

You taste yourself mixed with the remnants of his earlier cigarettes and you pull him closer. Your head tips away and your back arches as he pushes into you, digging your nails into his forearm. Immediately his pace is unrelenting, his hand on the back of your neck keeping you from hitting the headboard. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hook one leg over his hip as he fucks you into the mattress.

This is what he needs.

It’s almost animal; his breath is heavy and ragged, the way he holds you is not tender. He holds you like he wants to own you, biting your neck and shoulders like you’re meat.

You don’t care. If you could do the same things to him, you would.

“Joder, princesa. I’m gonna—” You yelp as he slams his hips into yours, biting his shoulder aggressively through his shirt fabric as his chest heaves.

You can feel him shaking, releasing your teeth and stroking his hair gently. He stays over you for a long moment, nose pressed to your throat. He sighs deeply, pulls out of you slowly and lays on his side next to you. You roll to face him, tugging your skirt back down. He smiles, rolls his eyes as he readjusts his slacks. He rests his hand on your shoulder, tracing small circles with his thumb. You lean over and kiss him sweetly, he brushes your hair away from your face.

“You really don’t care that I’m a bad man, huh?”

“Good men die too.”

“So?”

“I’d rather be with you.”

AN: thank you for reading, this is my first tommy fic so i hope you all enjoyed♡

if you like what you read and want to see more, i would be honored if you’d consider stopping by the cafe! if you’re not able or don’t want to commission, if you would like to drop a buck in the tip jar that’s also greatly appreciated (but never required)!

#tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #high school AU #early 2000s AU #no outbreak AU #tommy miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #dead dove fic #moth hollerin

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