#tom grant fics

[hellfiresmaster]

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.

[boasamishipper]

A man is telling him to stay still, that they need to check him over, and another man is asking him where he’s been, what happened to him, and he fights them hard, clawing and kicking and screaming with everything he’s got: he can wait, don’t they understand? He can wait. Ellie is who matters. Not him. He’s no one. He’s— “Bobby!” Everything stops. He’s dreaming, he must be, only there are no buffeting winds, no pouring rain, no rushing river. Just her, divinely beautiful in the morning sunlight: deep brown skin, hair as black as the midnight sky, eyes as bright as stars. She’s looking at him like she’s lost at sea and he is her lighthouse, and he feels like Odysseus, at last having found his way home. “Athena.” The wind is back, roaring in his ears. “I found you.” His legs give out from under him, and everything goes black.

a scene from my amnesia!Bobby fic No Grave Can Hold My Body Down, drawn by the marvelous @enthyrea ❤️❤️❤️

[usedtobecooler]

if it's not with you | tom grant x fem!reader

Pairing | Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, general banter, flirting, all around fluffiness.

Word Count | 5k

A/N | eeeee i'm so excited to share this fic with you all!! honestly i've fallen in love with tom all over again writing this, i hope you all enjoy this flirty fluffy cuteness!!

This caravan park was easily the worst place you’d ever been on holiday to. You couldn’t even lie to yourself — the entertainment area was outdated, the food was far from good, the staff were mostly rude and unhelpful, and the caravan you’d rented for the week was the biggest piece of shit.

Your idea of a nice, relaxing beachside break from the city was basically down the pan the moment you arrived, though you had to admit the one saving grace was in fact the gorgeous beach, barely thirty steps away from your rental, all golden sand and crashing waves. It was peaceful, quiet — the school summer holidays were over so it only left the caravan owners and the odd few stragglers without kids behind. 

Summer was barely clinging on, the nights were beginning to close in fast and the air was feeling that bit crisper once the sun set, like it had done every Summer since you could remember. There was still the odd humid, hot day, and this was one of them. 

Muggy beyond belief, despite the cool sea breeze rolling in from the East. You were sweating, skin feeling sticky as you sunbathed in peace, laid out in a one piece on your towel. Regardless of the factor thirty, you already knew you were going to burn — you always did, no matter what. The harsh rays from the sun were unforgiving to your sensitive skin, leaving you flushed and freckled.

You feel the figure looming over you pretty quickly. The slight darkness on your left hand side as said person blocked the sun. You let out a deep sigh, using your hand as a makeshift sun visor as you open your eyes carefully, squinting up into the sun.

You spy the caravan park logo on his polo shirt immediately — site worker, clearly. He’s all curly hair, pale skinned and a goofy grin on his face as he clutches onto the magazine you’d taken with you to read, obviously blown off in a gust of wind when you’d been blissfully unaware, “Think this was trying to do a runner on you,” His voice is unexpectedly deep, though still chirpy, as he extends his arm out with the magazine rolled up in his hand.

“Thanks, mate,” You bark out a little embarrassed laugh, propping yourself up on an elbow and taking the magazine from him. Your fingers brush, and you can’t help the flush that creeps up to your cheeks at the barely-there touch, “It’s shit anyway — one of them magazines people get paid fifty quid to share their fake stories to, y’know.” 

The man snorts, shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, “I know the ones, my mums obsessed with them. Surely nobody believes the ghost stories?” He’s making conversation, not in any rush to get off, and it’s strange. He’s maybe the second worker you’d encountered who was genuinely an alright person. 

“Oh I know, in this one they’re claiming the ghost made toast in the middle of the night. Didn’t realise they could open a loaf of bread, who’d have thought it?” You humor him, and he properly laughs at that, kicking his toes in the sand as he looks down at you. 

He’s awfully pretty, you notice, as you look up at him properly now the glare of the sun has been blocked a little. Big brown eyes and a freckled nose, tinged pink from too much sun and not enough sunscreen, no doubt. Nice full lips and a cute chin, chains dangling on his neck. Very typical English boy, but that was always your type.

Your mouth runs dry, now that you’re suddenly aware of how attractive this man is and you’ve just called him mate. Ground swallow you now.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going,” He looks sullen at that, nose scrunching up a little, “Duty calls — these old fuddy-duddies who arrive this time of year always find something to moan about.”

“Well, you enjoy that…” You blush, giggling like a dickhead, suddenly aware of the fact you’re lusting over a man who’s name you don’t even know,  “Sorry, I never got your name. No nametag?”

“Tom,” Tom digs in his pocket, a small triumphant noise escaping him when he pulls the old nametag out between two fingers proudly, showing you it, “I usually don’t wear it. Can’t be fucked when these arseholes complain about the staff and name us to management.” 

“Well, I’ll make sure to name you to the staff when I check out and let them know you were a very helpful young man, Tom,” Your voice drips sarcasm and humour, and you know you’ve got him hook, line and sinker when he bellows a true laugh, throwing his head back and exposing the vast expanse of his neck, veins protruding. Your thighs clench.

You’re both shook out of the little bubble when somebody starts shouting Tom’s name from behind you both, startling you. He rolls his eyes, tapping the watch on his wrist, “Gotta go, darling. You need anything just ask for me personally when you phone, yeah?” 

You nod, dumbstruck as he smiles wide at you, pearly white teeth on display. He takes off in a jog, and for the first time you truly understand the term ‘hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.’ 

You bump into him again two days later, in the laundry room as you’re banging on the washing machine that currently had four days worth of clothes and underwear locked in it. It’d swallowed your token, locked the doors then refused to start, and you were raging — three quid down the fucking drain, just like that.

He knocks up behind you unexpectedly, his hip catching on the soft flesh of your ass as he leans over to pop a token into it. You suck in a breath and hold it, watching with awestruck eyes as the tendons in his wrist flex when he turns the dial. The machine whirs to life, water beginning to fill the drum in just mere seconds.

“What’d I tell you about just shouting for me if you needed anything?” Tom’s smug, lips so close to your ear they’re almost brushing the shell and you have to literally shove down the gasp that almost makes its way up your throat. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and a shiver ripples up your spine. 

“I didn’t expect to need maintenance help for washing my underwear,” You bristle, trying to act calm as he brushes past you and opts for leaning against the machine, hands once again buried deep into his pockets — he’s wearing grey joggers this time, clearly to match the miserable and dreary weather outside. You avert your gaze from the obvious bulge in his trousers, willing yourself to just get a fucking grip.

It doesn’t help when you lock eyes with him, and he’s all gooey brown orbs and long eyelashes. It’s embarrassing how much you fancy him, and now you feel like a right slob — down here in your leggings, hoodie and crocs of all things. Hair up in a messy bun and no makeup on, on account of the severe sunburn on your nose and cheeks.

“C’mon, we’ll go back to the token machine and I’ll get you your money back,” Tom nods towards the door, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You want to tell him you don’t need the money back, but a little part of you wonders — and hopes — that he’s offering to do this so that you have an excuse to wander off with him.

“Sure, lead the way my saviour,” You joke, extending an arm out towards the open door. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a look that could only be described as fond on his features as he saunters past you. You feel your cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the sunburn this time.

“What’s brought you to Cornwall, then?” He asks conversationally — you’re bumping arms you’re that close, and the corridor isn’t even that narrow, he’s just naturally gravitating towards you. You plod along slowly and he matches your pace, your heart thudding in your chest as your hopes were confirmed; he was being nosey, interested in getting to know you.

“Not much, I like the beach but I live in London so I don’t get to see it much,” You admit, shoving your hands into your hoodie pocket, “I work from home, too. So I thought I’d maybe get some work done whilst I was here. The wifi is shit, by the way.”

Tom winces, shooting you an apologetic look, though it’s clearly a mockery, “Yeah, this place doesn’t have much going for it, darling. Though it’ll give you an excuse to actually enjoy your break instead of worrying about work, right?”

You’re walking so slowly you may as well be at a standstill, and you know it’s because the token machine is barely ten feet away, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” You admit, because it’s true — you’d hardly even thought about your job since you got here, enjoying your time soaking in the sun and the peace away from your roommate, “What about you? You from around here?”

“Born and raised,” Tom shrugs. You glance to the side, watching as his adams apple bobs up and down when he swallows, “I live on the site now, though, have done since I was sixteen. I’m here all year with Kai, you’ve probably seen him around, angry looking dickhead with a buzzcut. A girl called Jade used to live here too but eh, she’s gone now.”

You hum, acknowledging what he’s saying. You want to pry, the way his voice changed when he spoke about this ‘Jade’ character leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — an ex, maybe. But you were basically a stranger to Tom, so why would he explain that to you? 

The both of you stop right at the token machine, and Tom fumbles for his set of keys, flipping them until he finds one with a red tag on it. You watch his hands the entire time, thirsting silently — god, his hands were so nice. For a maintenance guy, they were clean, nails manicured, the skin soft. You could tell he took care of himself, and that made him all the more attractive to you. 

He slips the three pound coins into your hoodie pocket, knocking you out of your daze. His hand bumps against your waist when he pulls it out of said pocket, leaving you feeling flustered. There’s no way he’s just being nice, he’s flirting, albeit subtly. 

“Thank you,” Your voice is breathy, catching in the back of your throat as your eyes search for his again, though it doesn’t take long before his eyes are locking on yours once more, “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Or that three quid, actually, that’ll get me another shitty magazine from the shop and a bottle of Coke.”

Tom laughs, showing off his ridiculously perfect teeth once again, “You’re right, it will. Hopefully the ghost story in this one’s a bit better —” 

There’s a sudden harsh knock on the window behind your head that has you leaping out of your skin. He glances up to where the source of the banging came from, and he’s huffing, rolling his eyes, “Gotta go, darling. Another dickhead to deal with. Remember what I said, need anything just shout for me, yeah? Enjoy your magazine.” 

He lands a soothing hand on your shoulder just barely before he’s taking off, and your skin burns even through the thick material of your hoodie. 

There’s one day left of your holiday. One miserable day. You hadn’t seen Tom at all since your encounter in the laundry area, and you had to admit you were feeling deflated over it. You hadn’t been avoiding him, in fact quite the opposite, but your paths had just never crossed again. 

The weather was unbearably hot once more, worse than the first day you’d met Tom, not even a breeze coming in off the sea, and you were desperate for a cold shower to rinse off the sweat from your now sunkissed skin.

The caravan door slams shut behind you as you step foot inside, basking in the little bit of cool air in the living area that’d been bathed in shade the entire day. You strip off your two-piece without a second thought — your caravan doesn’t look onto any others, and you don’t see anybody around, so there was nobody to scar when you stripped naked. 

At the beginning of your holiday you didn’t believe you’d ever become accustomed to the tight living quarters, especially the bathroom, but now that you’d been at the park for a week you almost couldn’t imagine going back home to your shitty little flat in Central London. You actually enjoyed the peace and quiet, and you were saddened about leaving.

You couldn’t deny that Tom was part of that, too. Though you’d hardly gotten a chance to know him you were drawn in, and the thought of heading home the next day and never seeing him again was weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

Stepping into the tight shower, you twist the dial to turn on the water, only to be engulfed in a roaring hot heat that has you yelping and gasping. The sharp sting of the scalding hot water hitting your sunburnt chest brings tears to your eyes, your hands flapping to turn the dial back until the stream stops.

You jump out of the shower, grabbing for your fluffy towel that you’d set in the open window that morning, pulling it around your bare body and tucking it in until it’s sat nicely. The ends of your hair drip wet, the water cooling fast, an almost pleasant feeling in comparison to what you just felt.

There’s not a second thought before you’re dialing 0 on the phone in the living area and asking for a maintenance person to come look at the shower, reeling off that the water was scalding hot and had burned you. The person on the other end sounds bored, uninterested and far from shocked when you tell her what happened. You hang up and, in your anger, stick up your middle finger at the phone. 

You didn’t even think to ask for Tom. You perch your ass on the arm of the U-shaped sofa, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and shaking your leg as you wait, wondering who it’d be that showed up to your call. You really, really hoped it’d be him.

Not even five minutes go by before you’re hearing a rapping of knuckles on the glass pane of the door, and you answer it quickly, all street smarts going out the window as you pull the door open just clad in your towel. Tom stands on the narrow step, clutching onto a metal tool box, and you breathe out a sigh of relief that it’s him.

“Fucking hell, that burn looks sore,” Tom looks with bug eyes at your chest, taking in the look of your skin tinged a deep red, much darker than the rest of your sunburnt body. You flush, moving out of the way to let him in, “If you put in a claim for that this place would be shut down.”

He laughs about it, but visibly looks nervous. You can’t help but wonder if, as much as he complained about the job, he genuinely liked it. Or maybe it was all he knew, which was also probably true, considering he had told you he’d been here living since he was just a teenager. A pang in your chest asserts itself at that realisation.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, it’s my own stupid fault for stepping into the shower before turning it on like a silly bitch,” You shake it off, a wobbly little laugh escaping you, “Nothing a bit of lotion won’t fix, Tom.” 

“No, it’s fucking ridiculous that this even happened,” Tom grunts, stepping past you and wandering the short distance into the bathroom. You follow him like a lost puppy, clutching at the top of your towel with one hand, standing in the doorway as you watch him flip his toolbox open, grabbing for something and banging the shower door open. 

“Dunno why they still rent out this caravan every summer there’s so much shit wrong with it, told the manager it was fit for the scrap yard two years ago,” Tom’s conversational, unscrewing the shower tap and fiddling with it as if you’re not standing there basically naked and still slightly damp from your failed attempt at hosing off.

You’re trying to look anywhere but right in his direction. It’s hard, though. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his arm bulging and straining under the tight material of his polo shirt as he uses his wrench to tighten a bolt, “S’okay, I got it pretty cheap. I’m away home tomorrow, didn’t want the next poor sod to get burnt like I did.”

Tom shoots a glance at you, brows marrying for a moment until he’s turning back to the job at hand, “I didn’t realise you were away so soon, fuck sake. If I’d known I would’ve come and seen you earlier. You’re alright, y’know?” 

“Thank you?” It comes out as a question, and you can’t help but feel somewhat offended by his choice of words, “I suppose you’re alright yourself. Probably the only decent member of staff I’ve spoken to this entire week.” 

“Yeah, the nice face and banter are just a bonus, eh?” Tom flashes you his teeth again and it has you rolling your eyes, though a fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “Not like those posh London boys, they’re stuffy and boring.”

“You’re right about that,” You agree, watching as he throws the wrench back into the toolbox blindly, the tool landing correctly in its place. It’s now or never, you think, as he screws the tap back on. This is it, after this last chance meeting you’re not gonna see him again. “Who’d have thought something as simple as catching a blown away magazine would have a girl weak at the knees?” 

You cringe at yourself, though Tom’s head shoots around. He looks at you with a confusion etched on his features, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Surely you were being obvious enough, right?

You watch him dumbly step out of the shower, even going as far as to shut the screen door behind him, “What do you mean?” He asks, quirking a brow. Clearly you weren’t being obvious, then. 

“Is it not totally obvious that I’m into you?” You scoff, wanting to lean forward and rattle that devourable looking neck. He’s clearly so clueless, it would actually be kind of endearing if you didn’t find it so infuriating. 

Tom balks at you, taking a step closer to you, which has him almost right up in your face, with how enclosed the space of the bathroom is, “Really? I’m really shit at reading signals, sorry, love.” 

Love. You melt at the pet name, going all gooey. You take your chance, fingers tugging at your towel until it’s loosening on your body. He watches you with curious eyes that soon turn lust filled, when you let the towel drop to the floor and pool around your feet.

You blush under his intense gaze, taking in the swell of your tits, the pebble of your nipples, the curve of your hips, the mound of your cunt. He takes another step, so you’re basically toe to toe, and he exhales loudly.

“Not done this for a while,” Tom admits, as his large hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to him until your naked body is flush against him, the soft material of his worn-in work polo a pleasant feeling against your skin, “Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, far too fast, too eager, but he clearly doesn’t seem to mind, leaning in until his plump lips are capturing yours. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him in closer, fingers burying in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tom deepens the kiss quickly, tongue running over your bottom lip and you open up willingly, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His own tongue glides along yours deliciously, has your pussy clenching and your legs shaking. He moves you blindly backwards, like he knows the entire layout of this caravan — which he probably does, has probably been here many a time.

The backs of your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward, opening your legs for Tom to nudge between them, one hand still on your waist tightly, other slipping down your leg, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh. You shiver, unable to contain it, the feeling of the hands you’d thought about so much the last week finally on you was almost enough to drive you crazy.

Tom’s hand skates higher and higher up your thigh, until he’s cupping the heat of your cunt. He’s the one to break the kiss, pulling away from you to look you in the eyes properly, like he’s looking for confirmation that you’re still good and you’re okay to keep going, “You okay if I touch you?” 

You melt. You nod, and he dives in, kissing the side of your neck with spit-slick lips, leaving you gasping and writhing below him. He bumps his hips down into you, and you feel the outline of his hard cock brushing against your inner thigh.

Suddenly, your carnal desire for him overcomes your every being, your hands falling from the back of his neck to fist into his shirt, bunching up big handfuls of the material, “C’mon, you too?” You beg, voice whiny, completely distracted by how Tom bites and kisses at your neck, “Need to see you too.” 

He sits back on his haunches, smirking down at you, hands leaving your body and in turn leaving you cold — though it’s not for long, as you watch him pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He dives back down into you quickly, bumping those godforsaken hips down against your pussy this time, leaving you gasping.

That stupid, shit eating grin never leaves his face until he’s burying his face back into your neck, peppering your skin with kisses, hand nudging between your legs again, until the pads of two of his fingers finally dip in between your slick folds, gathering your juices on them. He grunts against you, rutting his hips down again, “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He mumbles, caught off guard by it.

“Mmph, all for you,” You gasp, breath catching in your throat when he finds the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit and starts rubbing in small, tight circles, until your hips are pushing up into the air, “Oh God —!”

You lose yourself in the feeling of Tom lathering you in kisses, the way his plump lips ghost along the stinging, burnt skin of your chest and soothe it, his fingers working on your clit until your cunt is gushing wetter than before. He’s so sensual, passionate, taking the most attentive care to your body, and it’s driving you wild.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” Tom groans in between kisses, looking at you with those pretty, chocolate brown eyes, now mostly blackened with lust, “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock, babe.” 

You squeal, a moan punching out of you when his fingers leave your clit just barely to dip into the entrance of your pussy and glide back up, taking some of your milky wetness with them. You clench, quivering at his words, a deep heat blooming in the pit of your belly, alarmingly fast, “I’m so close,” You admit, losing yourself in the pleasure of Tom’s fingers catching on your clit, winding you up tight, tight, tight.

Tom kisses the swell of your breast, lips dragging down until they latch onto your nipple, licking and sucking until you’re crying out. He can’t take his eyes off of you, watching every contortion of your face as he makes you fall apart. Your fingers grip into his curls, tugging lightly until he’s groaning, vibrations echoing up your chest.

His fingers work at that same torturing pace, sliding in circles until you’re arching off the bed slightly, coil in your tummy snapping, your entire body tensing and going lax just as fast as your orgasm washes over you, a gush of slick slipping from your hole as you shake through it.

Tom works you through it until you’re jerking away, fingers unwinding from his hair and pushing at his shoulders instead. He presses a light kiss to your nipple, pulling himself up and slipping his fingers from your cunt, “Was that okay?” He asks, though he’s smiling, proud of himself, clearly.

You nod, catching sight of the prominent bulge in his grey joggers, sudden desperation to get to his cock overtaking you — you lean up, tugging at the waistband of the offending material until it’s bunched around his thighs, uncut cock springing out proudly, you gasp, “No underwear? You always wander around like this, you slag?”

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “No, I wasn’t on shift but took the call because I knew this was your caravan,” He admits, and you giggle, a little swell of pride in your chest. That little admission was enough for you, he did like you as much as you liked him. 

He dives back into you, capturing your lips with his own, and you take that opportunity to get a feel for his cock, deft fingers blindly wrapping around the length and giving him an experimental tug, pulling the foreskin back. He gasps into your mouth as you work him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip, and he’s punching his hips into your hand.

“Keep doing that an’ I’m gonna cum before I get to fuck you,” He mumbles against your mouth, nibbling at your bottom lip just a little. You take that as your cue to stop, hand dropping from his cock and instead wrapping around his bicep.

He makes a show of it, like an arsehole, grabbing a hold of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit and gliding it back down, until you’re gasping and silently begging for it, digging your nails into the meat of his tanned arms.

“C’mon, Tom. Please?” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and he takes the bait — he slips his cock into you in one fluid motion, until his balls are flush against your ass. You couldn’t have been prepared for the sheer thickness of him stretching you from the inside out, a gasp escaping you when the head of his cock brushes along your frontal wall.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Tom moans, burying his head into the other side of your neck this time, kissing and biting at your flesh until it’s raised. He pulls out, slamming back into you to the hilt, and you clench around him, unable to help it, the curved head of his cock brushing against the spongey part of your cunt perfectly, “God, babe, don’t do that, I’ll cum so quick.”

You moan, clenching around him again until he’s groaning, fucking in and out of you properly, your cunt sucking him in, gushing around his length. You’re overwhelmed by the feeling of him all over you, his lips and teeth on your neck, his hair tickling your face, his toned torso crushing down into yours, his cock sliding in and out of the tight heat of your pussy.

“You feel so good around me, fuck,” Tom’s mumbling against you, words almost getting lost in your skin, but you’re fucking melting for it, the praises having you keening up into him.

You feel your orgasm building quickly, unaware of how loud you’re moaning until Tom’s picking up the pace of his thrusts, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in the room, the wet schlick of your pussy mixing with the other sinful noises. 

“M’gonna cum,” You cry, tears pricking at your eyes as your tummy blooms with heat once again, orgasm building a lot quicker this time than the last time, and Tom pulls himself away from the crevice of your neck, looking at you with his lust blown eyes, swollen red lips open in a constant moan, “Fuck, Tom, s’good, so good,”

You’re babbling and Tom groans, fucking you so rough you’re sliding up the bed — your high hits you so hard you see stars, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and gushes around the girth of Tom’s cock, fingernails biting into his arms so hard that you know you’re going to leave behind broken skin.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Tom’s voice goes high pitched, eyes rolling into his skull as your pussy grips him like a vice, and he’s coming too, hips stuttering as he paints your walls in his release, cock pulsing in the tight heat of your cunt.

You mewl, spent body giving into everything. You feel like you’re floating, unable to comprehend what just happened. Tom’s looking down at you with this big dopey grin and you smile back, leaning up to kiss him languidly as his spent cock goes soft.

Tom slips out of you with a hiss, collapsing down next to you, chest still heaving on breath, “You sure you’ve gotta go home tomorrow, darling?” He asks, voice quiet as he tugs you into him, those big arms engulfing you in a tight cuddle. Your whole body melts into his, your mind blank of anything but him. Maybe you didn’t have to go home just yet. 

“I suppose I could see about hanging around for another week… or two,” You admit, and Tom cackles in triumph, squeezing you tighter until you’re giggling into his chest, heart swelling.

[piastrinorris]

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

[keeponquinning]

Requested by the lovely @choke-me-eddie ! Original request was a line or dialogue from their fic, Jack Daniels And Coke, a Tom Grant x barmaid!reader that is MWAH. But, I am extra. So.... It was more than a line. Both kinda 18+ / NSFW, one more so than the other....... THIS IS YOUR HEADPHONE WARNING. Please and Thank you.

Enjoy!

[pedgito]

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. ♡

[pinksoftlace]

Me writing my tokio hotel fanfics.

[foundtherightwords]

(most of my fics are CC x OFC unless otherwise stated)

Tom Grant (Make Up)

Winter Light (AO3): angst, slow burn, sickfic, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 5 chapters + optional epilogue, 14.8k

Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)

The Road Forgotten (AO3): angst, slow burn, fix-it, post-canon, revenge, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 42.7k

Irresistibly Contagious (AO3): sequel to "The Road Forgotten", Christmas fic, fluff, found family | One-shot, 7k

Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike)

The Quiet Chaos (AO3): angst, slow burn, developing relationship, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 10 chapters, 36.2K

The Simple Thought of You (AO3): sequel to "The Quiet Chaos", angst, childfree, proposal, non-explicit smut | 3 chapters, 9.2k

Ralph (Timewasters)

All Our Yesterdays (AO3): friends-to-lovers, slow burn, a bit of angst, time travel, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 53.8k

Come, You Spirits (AO3): sort-of-sequel to "All Our Yesterdays", fluff, funny, spooky, established relationship | One-shot, 4.6k

Time Out in the Upside Down (AO3): "Stranger Things" x "Timewasters" crossover, funny | One-shot, 1.8k

Leonard Bast (Howards End)

Through the World's Far Ends (AO3): Leonard x Helen fix-it, World War I, angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 7.2k

Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)

The Firebird (AO3): fairytale AU, magic, adventure, slow burn, non-explicit smut | 16 chapters, 66.7k

Michael (Hoard)

Love, If You're Near (AO3): angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 6.8k

Derwin Grunauer (Overlord)

As the Sun Will Rise (WIP): post-WWII, Beauty and the Beast retelling | 21 chapters, ~82k

Hellcheer Masterlist

[littlelioncub43]

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 💖

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Bonus bc I did NOT plan to have this many

My Love is Your River: Orion goes on a quest with Lightray after he finds out Lightray has feelings for him. Orion attributes these newly-expressed feelings to the river of love near his home. (fourth world/new gods; Lightrion; fantasy AU)

this life and the next: Lyle writes Brainy a love letter. (losh; LyleBrainy; love letter fic/ oneshot)

HOT TO GO! : Thad joins camp counselors and struggles with romantic feelings for some of the other counselors. (losh/flashfam; canon divergent AU/camp counselor AU/no powers AU)

not fond of asking: Brainy takes care of a sick and unsuspecting Lyle. (losh; BrainyLyle; sickfic/ oneshot/no powers AU)

scars in the sky: Bart and Conner breakup fic. (yj98; KonBart; no powers AU/friends to lovers to friends)

orange liqueur: Todd takes Alan home from a bar after an unexpected phone call leads them to the same place. (jsa/infinity inc; no powers AU/oneshot)

Stawberry Moon: Ted Grant grows suspicious after a string of disappearances follow his son moves into his apartment. (jsa; horror au)

good humor: Jan Arrah gets to host book club and decides to give it a theatrical theme for fun. (losh; Shvaugn Erin/Jan Arrah; no powers AU/oneshot)

tantrum: Cassie Sandsmark has to babysit a three year old Artemis of Bana-Mighdall until Diana returns with someone who can change her back. (wonderfam; baby fic)

Kitten and Canary: After an eight-year-old Jade is left on Dinah's doorstep, Dinah finds herself sympathizing with Jade for the first time. The only problem is, she has to keep it a secret from Roy. (arrowfam; shrinkfic)

Platter: Garth describes the feeling of being devoured by his closest friends. (aquafam/fab five; cannibalism AU)

✨Pinterest Boards Under The Cut✨

[painisforsundays]

Tom Grant

You’ve Got Me by @mypoisonedvine (18+)

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.

Bestfriend!Reader Edging Tom by @userquinn (18+)

Morning Sex With Tom by @userquinn (18+)

Soft Dom!Tom by @userquinn (18+)

Request by @userquinn (18+)

Stupid For You by @quinnsbower (18+)

Summary: you and tom get into a fight and, after he says something especially nasty to you, he makes it up to you in the best way.

5 Minutes In Heaven by @quinnsbower (18+)

Summary: your boyfriend finds an empty closet at work, and he convinces you to play a game of 7 (or 5) minutes in heaven.

Request by @usedtobecooler (18+)

Request by @userquinn (18+)

If It’s Not With You by @usedtobecooler

Request by @userquinn (18+)

[usedtobecooler]

tom walks by as you're bending over to clean somethnig in the arcade; cut to you spread out on the pinball machine with his face buried between your legs.

yeah okay and what if i died

warnings: oral f receiving, public sex i suppose, inappropriate use of arcade machines

tom grant was trouble. and he wasn’t always, but now he was. and more so, he was trouble for you. since he and ruth had split up and she ran off with jade in the middle of the night, leaving you to pick up the job related shit storm and him to pick up the pieces of his fragile little heart. bless him.

and there had always been a thing between you both. completely innocent until that point, because tom was in love and had been since he was fifteen and wouldn’t jeopardise it. but at the staff closing party for the caravan park, you’d both gotten too drunk and he’d dragged you back to his little static, fucked you on his couch and marked you up for everybody to see.

the next season had come around quickly, your presence expected. and the second you stepped foot through the door he was crowding you up into the linen cupboard and railing you like he’d not had a good fuck in the four months you were gone. he probably hadn’t. just his own right hand for company.

and you try to ignore him whilst you’re emptying out the penny falls machines, you really do. but it’s a weirdly hot day in may and you’re in these tight little shorts that aren’t uniform coded, and he’s using every excuse to brush up tight against your ass, feigning that he’s got to get some new tool or he’d left something behind. and he’s driving you crazy, he knows what he’s doing.

“that’s it,” he announces the next time he comes round, chest flush to your back as he marches you over to the pinball machines, and you guffaw, the unexpectedness taking you by surprise, shocking you into submission. he spins you around to face him, pushes your ass up against the edge of the machine, “up here.”

you sputter on any stupid response you’d of had, jumping up onto the cool glass and spreading your legs for him to step between. he doesn’t, though. drops to his knees instead and shoves the towel-like fabric of your shorts to the side, stifles an eye roll when he realises you’re wearing no underwear, but can’t relax his face enough to stop the goofy smirk etching his features.

he dives in like a man starved, and you cry out in response, your white nikes digging into his back as you wrap your thighs around his head, pulling him in tight. and he’s so good at this — fucks his tongue in and out of you, swirls up to your clit, suckles gently then glides back down, in this vicious cycle of too much but also not enough.

your fingers wind into his curls, and he moans into your cunt in retaliation, the vibrations on your core breaking your skin out into goosebumps, has your belly jumping as a heat pools. he slurps and licks and sucks on your folds with heavy hands on your thighs, keeping you spread open just enough, just how he likes. and you come, hard — thighs tensing around his ears as your hips jolt off the machine.

when you come back down, breathless and feeling like you’ve been punched in the gut, tom’s in your face, kissing you and licking into your mouth, letting you taste yourself until you’re moaning again, pulling him in, desperate to feel his cock in you. his fingers, even. anything he’ll give you.

but instead he breaks away, cheeky smirk back on his face, mischief dancing in his sparkly eyes, and they hadn’t sparkled for a while, “better clean this machine up, love. somebody’s made an awful mess of it.”

[piastrinorris]

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. 😘

[pollenallergie]

the last two times i’ve posted about tom grant, no one has liked it. what’s going on? why do hate this snugglemuffin?? what’s he ever done to you???? be too fucking cute??? the fuck is wrong with you???

[pedgito]

Aliiii, I need another Tom Grant fic in my life. Maybe makeup sex after he thinks reader is flirting with someone. 😮‍💨

author’s note: i can’t resist this soft boyfriend of a man for the life of me, so enjoy! this can be read as a third part to my previous tom fics but is also fine to read by itself!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), some possessiveness, soft dom!tom, slightly bratty!reader, fem terms/praise, insecure!tom, unprotected sex, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

“Eat.” Tom’s voice bellows through the long, drawn out silence.

You’ve been staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, mixed in with the scrapping of his fork as he twirled the spaghetti around the utensil and piled it into his open mouth.

He’s angry, annoyed, pissed—and not a single inclination as to why exactly, just an expression void of warmth or comfort.

You stab at the noodles lacking the sauce of his you loved so much. He’d rushed dinner, slamming dishes around in annoyance as you picked up around the trailer. Tom didn’t always get like this, but there were times where he couldn’t convey what he wanted to say, let it build up and took it out on you by chance. You couldn’t blame him, you were guilty of it too.

“Not hungry.” You mumble, the fork slipping from your hands and clattering against the plate.

“Oh, what now?” Tom asks, his enunciation around the vowels elongated as his deep Cornish accent peeked through when he got riled up—never usually out of anger, but here you were.

“You’re the one who wanted to go back home, you know.” You argue, pushing your plate to the side. Tom’s nearly finished with his food, following suit as he chews on the last bite of pasta. “Not me, you.”

“You know why,” Tom replies arrogantly, his voice as calm and level as ever, “don’t play oblivious.”

He’d caught a man, a friend of a friend of another friend, hounding you with a drink, begging you to accept. It was Tom’s idea to come to the party to begin with, trying to be supportive of his close friend, show up and be polite before slipping out unnoticed.

And really, Tom was slightly to blame here. He left you unattended at a party full of people you didn’t know, forcing you to meld yourself into conversations you didn’t care about, a drink being slipped into your hand insistently by a guy who looked beyond sketchy.

You weren’t naive—there was no way you were taking a sip of that drink. Still, you accepted it with a smile, nursing it close to your chest as the man lingered and talked with the surrounding people, all the while Tom catching things from a distance, getting an entirely different view of what was actually happening.

He wasn’t mad at you either—frustrated, yes, to a degree. But, he’s never experienced jealousy like this. He never worried with Ruth, not at first. Things changed, he didn’t know how to handle that situation with her so he fled.

You were left to pick up the pieces she’d left broken.

You’re too polite for your own good, exchanging meaningless small talk and cheap smiles until Tom is gently tugging you away, tossing the drink into a nearby trash bin before he’s crowding you in the passenger seat of his car and initiating a silent drive home.

It got you to this point, heated gazes shared across your tiny dining room table, eyes never leaving you as he sips from the glass, a brief movement as his lips barely touch the cup.

“You left me alone,” You force out, standing up abruptly to reach for your dishes, guiding them toward the sink, “and now you feel the need to act jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.” He remained firm, leaning back in his chair, cup scraping against the cheap tabletop and he pushed it around lazily with his finger.

He was the poster boy for just that, his eyes flickering to and away from you every so often, watching as you scraped the food away into the trash. It’s his fault, he knows it—but the tinge of harm to his ego, your relationship, even if it was nothing, it still eats at him.

He’s tried hard to get to this point, a vulnerability and openness he never had in past relationships, and he was screaming that up. Again.

“I don’t know why you won’t trust me.” You sigh, hands pressed hard against the edge of the sink, dishes clanking against each other as you tossed them in. “It’s been a year, Tom.”

He can see the tense line of your shoulders as you rest there, head hung slightly as you close your eyes, taking a deep breath through your nose. He rises slowly, silently, making his way toward you.

“I trust you.” He reminds you softly, “God, I fuckin’ trust you. You’ve no idea.”

There’s a gentle press of hands against your waist, his front crowding against your back and his chin resting against your shoulder. He’s light and gentle as he breathes his apology.

“Can’t stand seeing you being drooled on,” He admits, “M’not blaming them, you’re a pretty one.”

You laugh softly, turning your head back toward them.

“Yeah?” You question with a cheeky tone, earning a blush faced and subtle smile from Tom. “So, what’s with all the shit then?”

Tom is silent for too long, fingers cataloging every curve of your hips, stomach, until his palm is resting flat over the skin, forcing you tight against him and pressing it to the obvious and hard line of his cock in his sweats, telling you everything you needed to know.

“Needin’ to remind you,” Tom speaks low, lips barely touching the shell of your ear, “feels like you forgot.”

“Of?” You ask humorously, voice trickling with amusement.

It’s clear what Tom wanted, and for the time being, you’d allow it.

“Who you belong to,” Tom says, coarse fingers rising to grip your face, thumb rubbing along the expanse of your cheek until you’re coaxed to look at him, eyes connecting his, all big and brown and everything but intimidating. But, he’s demanding, his grip tight like a vice, “s’not fair all these other chavs get a chance at you when I’m right here.”

“I only want you, Tom.”

It’s the most serious you’ve ever been. It feels like you’re constantly reminding him, but you’d do it a thousand times, until it’s burned into his memory.

The hand pressed against your stomach slides toward the front of your shorts, beyond the waistband until he’s cupping you bare, barking a short, quiet laugh as his finger dip between your legs and coats with your wetness, feeling that neediness throb inside you the moment he pressed himself against your back.

Sex didn’t fix everything, but it sure as hell made things better for the time being—Tom could have you however he needed you, there was time to sort out everything else later.

“Prove it?” He challenges, voice clouded and hit as he pressed himself further against you, rubbing a gentle rhythm into your ass while his fingers played between your folds, featherlight touches that had you begging for more, the most.

“How?” You say soft, breathing out on a sigh as you push away, forgoing the dirty dishes for now as you turn to him.

“Dunno,” He shrugs, following your backwards ascent to the bedroom, his gaze growing evermore intense as he approaches, “you’re smart?”

You shrug, “You're asking?”

“Smiling at those fuckers,” He says with a forced laugh, mouth turning up into a smirk, his hand extending to press you against the edge of the bed by your hips, lending you to lean back, eyes glued to the slow crawl of his body over you as he adjusted you further and further up the bed, “you knew what you were doing, love.”

“Being nice,” You defend, “polite, you know?”

Tom huffs through his nose, not believing it for a second.

“Touch my cock, baby.” He tells you, the tone slightly startling. It was still, unwavering, lacking the normal warmth it carried.

His hand reaches for yours, guiding it over the tent in his sweatpants, squeezing for emphasis as you look at him, following the fleeting gaze of his—he’s taking you in, every line and curve of your face, and you’re mesmerized.

“Feel that?” He gruffs out, groaning softly when you rub your palm against him, daring to stretch your fingers underneath the fabric holding you back.

You nod silently, eager as your chin tips up toward him. His hands spread wide over your knees, spreading your legs apart.

“Gonna make me fuck you, ‘s that what I need to do?” Tom asks, hooking behind the juncture in your knee to pull against him, a small, playful yelp escaping you. “Am I needing to remind you who you should be smiling at?”

“Tom,” You complain, an airy giggle escaping your chest, “I’m yours, is that not obvious?”

He smiles, pressing a quick but firm kiss to your lips.

“Sweetheart, just play along.” Tom begs, “For me?”

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth to bite back the smile threatening to show, nodding obediently. Your eyes shift to seriousness, finally dipping your fingers into his waistband to press against his bare cock—he didn’t even bother with underwear after his shower, he’d planned this.

“Tell me,” He hums softly against your cheek, grinding up into your touch slowly, “how hard do I need to fuck you to forget about those guys?”

There’s no response, distracted by the lips assaulting your skin, hands squeezing in the curves of your body in a way that leaves you speechless every time. But, that’s not what Tom wants, gripping your face between his fingers firmly.

“Answer me.” He chided, unable to hide that sneaking smile creeping into his face. “M’not asking twice.”

“Not even thinking about anyone but you,” You assure him, struggling against his grip slightly, “I’m telling you, how else can I prove that?”

“You’re my smart girl,” He compliments, ever the smoosher, “you’ll figure it out.”

And you do. Quickly.

It doesn’t take much convincing to get Tom underneath you despite his obvious struggle for power—he likes the idea of being in control, to a point, but mostly it’s just a way to mess with you, rile you up.

It worked.

Despite switching positions and finding yourself seated fully on his lap, cock stuffed inside you to the degree where if it was any further it would be a problem, his thumbs leaving indentations into your hip bones as you rocked with his movements, letting him control the pace.

He’s got your hands tied up messily in the bunched material of your shirt, twisting and looping until your hands are immobile, leaving them interlocked over his chest with nowhere else to, nowhere else to roam.

Your face punches in discomfort slightly, always needing a moment to adjust to his size, but he wasn’t giving you that.

“No need for greediness now,” He chirps, bottom lip stuffed between his teeth as he bit, his chest rocking with every sharp thrust, his hips nearly lifting off the bed as he stabilizes you on top of him, “got my cock in you and you still want more?”

He sounds sinful, voice thick with arousal.

“Not that,” You say mindlessly, mouth drifting open as he pinned you down, hitting that familiar spot over and over again, stuck in an endless loop of desperate moans and pleas, “it’s—fuck, slower, please.”

You shove against him slightly, fingertips digging into his skin until he groans, enlightened by his own pain.

“You’ve got it,” He encourages, “never had a problem takin’ me before, why now?”

And just to drive you even further into madness.

“Said you were going to prove it,” Tom teases, “can’t even take my cock and you want me to slow down?”

“Tom.” You say once, a soft needy tone.

Tom makes an obvious noise of disapproval, shaking his head as he uses his advantage to flip you over in one quick movement, pressing you roughly into the mattress.

Somehow he manages to get your hands above your head and under the pillow you’re resting on before you can even process, his hips keeping a rough but uneven pace as he made it pure torture to be consumed by him in that moment.

“Please, please, please,” It’s the only thing you can think, not sure of what you’re begging for, “Tom, enough.”

Tom nudges your face toward him, his fingers slotting around your cheek as bringing your eyes to his, his expression just as intense as earlier, staring at you from across the dinner table.

“Tell me,” He urges, “gotta talk to me, love.”

You peek up toward your bindings, “It’s uncomfortable,” You pout, and he’s undoing the knot in seconds, rubbing at the tender skin, “thank you.”

“That all?” He asks, your expression flicking away, going shy for a moment. “Mmm, no going teazy on me now.”

You flex your sore hands, reaching for the soft lines of his face, thumb running along the dimple in his cheek as he smiled, watching you fall more and more into madness below him. You moan raggedly when he’s lifting your leg, switching the angle deeper.

“I’m begging you,” You gasp, his fingers tightening against your skin, “I need slow, Tom. Please.”

Tom understand when things get too much, they sense of protection and comfort you’re craving from him creeping back as he slows, releasing the tight hold he on you and settling for something simpler, your knees resting loosely at his hips as he fucked into you, slow and deep.

Tom nods to himself, forehead bumping against your own as he leaned further against you, “Good—see how easy it when you’re not bein’ difficult?”

You scoff lightly, eyebrows knitting together when his hand sneaks between your legs, rubbing at your already overworked clit.

“Good girl,” He laughs deeply, “and they get rewarded too.”

You respond absently, nodding in agreement to whatever he was saying as you tipped over the edge, body going hot as your orgasmed creeped in and took you by surprise, moaning brokenly into Tom’s open mouth as his own thrusts slowed, a few lingering pumps before he was spilling inside you.

The peace that follows is blissful, quiet moments as you both separate and redress, trying desperately to ignore Tom’s continued gazes your way, knowing you couldn’t resist if he tried hard enough.

But he surprises you, speaking a quiet, “M’sorry.”

You smile to yourself, fixing the shirt over your head as you approach him, perching your thighs over his lap as he shifts back, hands resting against the mattress. You trace the pale skin of his chest, stopping at the small patch of hair near the top.

“It’s okay,” You shrug, before thinking for a moment, “Well—it’s not, to be fair. But, I’m not mad.”

“You sure?” He asks shyly, eyes squinting in apprehension of rejection.

You nod slightly, taping his chest with your fingertips lightly, “I’m not complaining about the sex—fuck if that isn’t better when you’re kinda pissed off, but I’m begging you to trust me, Tom. I would never hurt you.”

And he’s heard that before, but with you, he can see that you mean it.

“I’m gonna marry you one day.” He speaks boldly, smirking confidently. “Just puttin’ that out there now.”

“Bold of you,” You note, teasing him slightly when he leans in for a kiss, pulling away briefly, “help me clean up dinner and we have a deal, yeah?”

Tom couldn’t think of a fairer trade.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[pinksoftlace]

Reading wattpad fanfics and novels till the day i die. I have like 3 reading lists even though I'm kinda sad, i hardly find any Georg Listing& Gustav Schäfer fanfics, like I love Tom and Bill too but I'm starting getting bored of Tom and Bill fanfics and they are all similar, please someone write a Georg Listing/ Gustav Schäfer novel I'm begging😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻