#tom grant x y/n

[pedgito]

Lol not me actually requesting something from someone yikes. But you asked for more Tom requests - what about you and best friend!Tom go on a night out with all your work mates after a long week and everyone keeps treating you like a couple so you play it up and flirt heavily with him but he gets flustered? If you could find a way to take this in a smutty direction I’d love you forever ♥️

author's note: this got a little wordy, i'm sorry, but i couldn't help myself.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), drinking/smoking, flirting, established friendships, oral (f recieving), tom being extra boyfriend-ish

word count: 5.6k

“A drink.” Tom promised, “Only one—come out with us.”

You were always reluctant to venture anywhere outside of work with coworkers. Tom was the only exception, but even that was few and far between.

And Tom’s friends - by association, your coworkers - weren’t the easiest to be around. They were friendly to a degree, but they were men. They get too rowdy and loud and say horrible things about women, whether you were around or not. 

“Just boys being boys.” Your neighbor had told you, a sweet old lady who kept to herself, catching the boys huddled outside of Tom’s caravan on a sticky, hot Friday night.

You never understood it and Tom seemed to always take the brunt of whatever jokes they were telling, but he laughed anyway. He never took himself too seriously, not since Ruth.

He doesn't talk about her much anymore, only in passing when he brings up old memories, but he’s happier now—lighter and more carefree in the way he carries himself. 

He’s a homebody like you, but he’s taking that leap and going on a wild night out, but not without dragging you along with him. 

“Only one?” You've got an inkling that isn’t the truth, and Tom sinks a little, shoulders slumping over his soft, gray cotton shirt. “It’s never only one, Tom.”

“You know I don’t like ‘em,” You argued, scrunching your nose in disgust—it makes Tom chuckle every time, “they always got something to say, they’re always being mean toward you.”

Tom shrugs carelessly, “It’s just fuckin’ around. It doesn’t bother me.” 

Except when it does. Except when it’s almost always cheap shot jokes aimed at his relationship with Ruth and how disastrous it’s ending was—how stupidly oblivious Tom had been to Ruth’s other interests. 

Tom loved her. He couldn’t help it.

And growing up with Tom, you understood it. He loved and he loved hard, he protected the ones he cared about, he was always there, even when people weren’t there for him.

Maybe that was his downfall. But he’s standing here, pride on the line, begging you to go out for drinks despite knowing how much you hate drinking. 

You sigh, using your pointer finger to scratch at the middle of your brow, along the bridge of your nose. 

“I will break a fuckin’ nose if one of them even so much as makes a comment in my direction,” You warn, “or yours.”

Tom snickers softly, pulling you into a tight, warm hug outside of the small work shack, smelling like the sweet cereal he had eaten that morning, both of you still barely awake enough to be ready for the day. 

“They mean well,” Tom defends weakly, not believing much in himself either as he says it, but you both ignore it, “either way, ya’ promised.”

“Did I?” You ask playfully, crossing your arms over your chest as you shrugged him away, “I must be losin’ my memory because I don’t remember that.”

“Not really,” Tom quickly admits, howling out a laugh as you shove him, “hey—we’re mates, that’s gotta count for something.”

“And what about them?” You ask, wondering how you were that much different.

Tom couldn’t put it into words, not now.

Things had changed the moment Ruth fled, the moment you started slipping into his daily routine. There was always a cup of warm tea sitting on his workspace every morning with your name on it.

“Gotcha a cuppa.” He’d mumble around the rim of his own cup.

Meanwhile you’re shoving a freshly packaged duo of sandwiches at his chest, his smile growing wide. One was never enough and you almost always stole half of the second—Tom never cared, the gesture was more than anything anyone had ever done for him. 

He mentioned Ruth’s horrid attempt at pasta once and you nearly balked at the admission, hiding your laugh behind your hand. He’s never had your cooking, but Tom swears nothing can be worse than that.

“S’different.” Tom replies, a piss poor answer.

“Why? Because I’ve got tits?”

Tom hesitates for a brief moment, mouth opened up and posed for a witty remark. It’s drowned out by your hand slapping his bicep and a weary laugh from him as he speaks.

“Fucking hell, you said it! Not me.”

“Is it true?” You ask despite his pain, his fingers squeezing at the sore spot on his arm.

Tom would never see it that way. He didn’t care one way or the other. But, you two melded together easily; quick banter, easy but sharp jokes that neither of you took seriously. Things were genuine, unforced, and you were the only person he actually made an effort to see outside of work—everything else was just coincidence or coercion on the part of Tom’s other friends.

“No, no,” Tom says forcefully, seeming offended that you would even ask, “what—you think I’m like them too?”

Another shrug that Tom can’t decipher, your hand reaching for the doorknob, “Just checking—see you tonight.”

Tom snorts out a soft hmph, “Go easy on ‘em, yeah?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” 

You’ve managed your way through two rounds of shots, taking the first one in stride before sipping gingerly at the second and sneaking it Tom’s way, letting him down the rest.

He’s got a hand on the small of your back, a comforting gesture but possessive nonetheless. It’s more of a, stay near me and don’t stray for your own good, type gesture—rather than a, you’re mine. Regardless, you lean into the touch and shove the third round of shots his way. 

“Nice to see Tommy finally bring you out with him,” Jason, a friend of Tom’s you’ve only spoken to a few times, pipes up a few spots down the bar slab, “least he doesn’t talk about Ruth anymore”.

“Hey,” Tom replies in warning, throwing the shot back, “fuck off, man.”

Another one of his friends speaks up, the one that’s always a bit too rowdy, less filtered, and terrible at social cues.

“He’s right, mate—she’s a looker, too.” 

The counter creaks in the silence that falls over, Tom’s touch tightening in the fabric of your wool knit sweater, a silent plea that begs you to back down.

He glanced around briefly, all eyes staring back at him.

“What—What did I say?”

“Thanks.” You reply, cutting through the awkward silence.

Tom visibly relaxed, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sways a little, his hand reaching out to rest on the barstool to steady himself.

“Alright, mate?” Jason asks, “Thought you had a little more in you than that—“ his eyes flick up toward you, teeth glinting behind a smirk, “seems like you’ve got a night ahead of you.”

The realization dawns on you, the closeness you two held—and with the thick skulls and empty heads of most of those men, they had no idea where your relationship with Tom landed, just that you two were close now and that had to mean you two were shagging, or at least thinking about it. 

Tom goes red in the face, ears blossoming pink. It was partly the alcohol, but his hand drifting away from you is a small inclination that he sees the line being crossed—and maybe you were feeling a little bold tonight, but you lean further into him. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” You quirk your head at Tom slightly, his eyes bulging a little, “right, Tommy?”

It makes him squirm, the nickname sounding foreign on your tongue. He liked the way you said his name. Tom. It was light, but strong—you only ever said it when you were really trying to prove a point or get his attention, but it drove him mad in the best way.

He doesn’t know when the feelings developed or how they’ve gotten so intense, but standing in front of you now, watching you openly agree with the notion that you two might be going home together, even if it’s just a ruse to fuck with his friends, has his insides twisting in knots.

Tom laughs nervously, agreeing without thinking.

“Told you,” You hear a whisper, a jab of an elbow in the side of one of his other friends, briefly glancing up at Tom, “about time you finally move on from that odd one—Ruth, yeah? Girl always gave me a vibe, ya know?”

The bitter memories still linger, always reappearing at the sound of her name and you can see it, watching as he visibly recoils in on himself.

There’s no telling how often this happens, how frequently they leave Tom at the end of the line, constantly directing their bad, poorly timed jokes at him.

You roll your eyes, remembering Tom’s plea to remain civil, instead directing your attention toward him, hoping that whatever bold course of action you decided to take would deter his friends away. 

“Dunno what she was thinking, he’s a keeper,” You interrupt, shoving Tom gently with your shoulder, “sweet, a good fuckin’ laugh—“

“Least one of us is getting laid, yeah?”

A weird course of questions to take, but again—boys will be boys. 

“It’s a wonder.” You joke coarsely, but Tom notices the hint of your deadpan delivery, biting on his bottom lip to stifle the laugh threatening to escape. 

Tom looks flushed still, finger tracing the outline of his shot glass as a line of Guinessen hits the bar top—it’s his weakness, always getting him absolutely hammered. You’ve seen it once, cleaned it off his couch after a wild night out and him showing up at your doorstep in tears. The night was blurry now, but there were a lot of secrets spilled, learning more about Tom than you’d ever planned, and in turn, a few things about yourself.

It’s part of the reason you don’t mind flirting with Tom. He’s always been there, a guy that was easily everything you could see yourself starting your life with.

After a while, you spill into a booth. It’s a large round table with just enough room for everyone, except you. Tom nearly offers his own seat up, but you’re moving before he can decide, squeezing yourself onto his lap. 

He visibly stiffens, his hand scolding hot against your skin from where it’s resting in the curve of your hip.

You catch the long, offstandish looks from across the table—a couple guys you didn’t know at all, snickering at Tom’s discomfort (or nervousness, it seemed) and making it even worse on him. 

He doesn’t blame you—you were trying to make things less awkward, ease the burden, but now he has no clue how to respond. Touch you more? Touch you less? Does he go bold and make a move or should he just excuse himself and say it’s been a long day and head home.

And if you weren’t annoyed before, you were surely annoyed now and feeling a bit too protective over Tom as you look over, his face in perfect eyeline with your own.

“Too much?” He mouths, his legs parting slightly as you straddle his thigh, the movement nudging you forward and against the table, ass sliding back an inch.

Neither of you speak on it, but you can feel it. He tenses even more, but it seems less nervous.  

You shake your head, glancing up at the two obnoxious men briefly before returning to him, “Not enough.” You whisper, lips grazing against his temple at the action, leaning back to look at him for a moment.

He almost panics, but then you’re leaning in and all Tom can do is adapt. He brought this on himself, he remembers. He asked you out tonight, practically begged, and now he was reaping the consequences.

Not that this could be considered a punishment, far from it, actually. 

“Just act like you enjoy it, for their sake.” You tell him softly, a word of warning before your lips are colliding with his own.

They’re soft, not at all a surprise. Your thumb rubs at the joint of his jaw, the beginnings of stubble growing there, a few days past his most recent shave and he makes a noise, something that gets caught in his throat but you feel it, the sound vibrating against the fingers pressed on the side of neck. He opens his mouth briefly (probably to interrupt) and you jump on the chance, sliding your tongue past his lips to graze against his own, and he sighs against you, open-mouthed and husky. 

And just when you feel satisfied enough to pull away, Tom pulls you back in, eliciting a few wolf whistles from his friends.

“Seems like someone’s leaving early tonight.”

Tom pulls away with a deep chuckle, avoiding whatever expression was on your face when he looks away—luckily you’re good at masking the surprise of him going in for seconds, and it’s unspoken, but the energy thrumming between you both was high.

It was better excuse than any, eyebrows raising in question at Tom, silently praying and hoping he would put your misery to end and agree to leaving.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tom nods slowly, turning back to you sheepishly—there’s something behind his eyes, those wide, beautiful eyes; but he forces it back, turning back to his friends, “you assholes drink enough for me, yeah?”

“Not a problem, mate.”

The keys jingle around Tom’s finger as the heavy door closes behind you, gravel shifting under your feet.

“So,” Tom drags out, chewing at the inside of his cheek, “what was all that about?”

You turn back to him slightly, seeing him stuck in place, leaning against the brick wall now, still and unmoving.

“You like being shit on like that?” You ask, deadpan and serious. 

“Oh, what are you on about?” Tom asks, a groan on the horizon as he tips his head back, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket—he’s been nursing it for a few weeks, only smoking when he’s feeling really stressed, but now it seemed as a means to avoid the conversation.

You were having none of it.

“It’s always like this,” You argue, yanking the small pack from his grip and tossing it in the trash, “don’t start with that—you only ever smoke around them, you only act a certain way around them—what is it, Tom? What are you trying to prove?”

“Nothin’—why do you care even?” Tom asks, hands splayed out in midair, still confused at your sudden outburst. “Know what, I’ll do you one better—the hell was that in there? Flirting with me, kissing me—“

“And you needed to have your hands on me all night?” You counter, a vicious response that has Tom recoiling in on himself, “What exactly are you telling those fuckers when I’m not around?”

“You think I talk to them like that?” Tom asks, offended by the accusation. 

“Nice to see you finally bringing her out with you,” You mock in a low voice, lazily stepping toward Tom, arms folded over your chest in defense, a way to comfort yourself, “finally—really?”

“S’not my doing!” Tom snaps, forehead creasing in frustration as he pushes from the wall, meeting you halfway in your walk toward him, “They’re always talkin’ about how you look at me, touching me all the time—they just assumed.”

“Assumed what, Tom?” You ask carefully, voice soft but dangerous—a double-edged sword that worries Tom.

You’re lucky the parking lot is barren of people, everyone packed inside the bar. Tom sighs, a forceful breath through his nose.

“That why you ask me out tonight?” You question, “Tryin’ to paint me as yours, are you?”

“Fuck,” Tom groans in exasperation and the expletive shouldn’t invade your mind that easily, the audible frustration in his voice as he continues, “s’just—we’re close, ya know. They have questions, I never tell them anything. I’d never—I wouldn’t do that.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. Tom seems to have sobered a little at that, despite the alcohol on his breath. 

“What? Don’t take me for a good shag, no?” You tease, the words hitting Tom fast and hard and he’s interrupting just as quick.

“You lost your fuckin’ mind?” Tom asks, your silence a louder response than ever, “I meant I’d never disrespect you like that.”

You shake your head slightly, stubbornly. Tom can’t take it anymore, full to the brim with annoyance at how dense you’re being. 

He can’t help how easily you drive him mad, to the point of rash decisions and thoughts and he’s hauling forward before he can think, gripping your forearm to pull you around the back wall of the bar, a dark alley hidden away from everything else and private, quiet.

“Fuck is your problem?” You ask, yanking your arm away. 

“You.” Tom answers boldly, chest heaving heavily, struggling to take the deep breaths he knows he should.

“I was only trying to ease the teasing, Tom.” You reassure him, “They were laughing and I didn’t think—I kissed you to shut them up and I’m sorry but—“

“But?” Tom reiterates, eyebrows raising inquisitively.

“You didn’t need to kiss me back.”

“And I did.” 

You nod slowly, taking a long, calming breath despite your heart hammering in your chest. It was anger and everything that came with it, but it was also fear, excitement, the type of things that cloud your thinking and lead you toward making bad choices. 

Was this a bad choice? 

Tom’s eerily quiet, eyes directed toward the ground and hand rubbing the tense muscle of his neck.

You sigh quietly, speaking first.

“Let’s go.” You tell him, eyes pleading when he looks up at you. “Please?”

Tom relents, but the drive back is anything but easy; because everything with Tom was easy and now—you couldn’t even look at him. 

He pulls into his driveway before yours, forcing you to finally speak up.

“Tom, this isn’t mine.” You remind him, wondering if he was as hammered as his friends were teasing him about.

“No shit,” His voice cracks when he talks, “Come on.”

When you’re finally inside, no arguments to be had, Tom’s reaching into the fridge and pulling out a pair of beer bottles, cracking open the lids against his chipped countertop. He forces the beer into your hand, motion toward the small dining table. 

“I’m not in the mood for drinking, Tom.” You reply, taking the seat he demands, eyes following your movements. 

“You drive me mad.” Tom admits, his teeth seething around the word, taking a long sip that spills down his lips briefly, the bottle ringing as it hits the table, his fingers tracing the perspiration as the silence grows, your heart swelling in your chest.

Tom had a habit of leaving you speechless—usually it was crass jokes and ridiculous things you couldn’t find the nerve to respond to, but this was different.

“I promise ‘em weeks ago that I would go out,” Tom admits, “and it was stupid of me to think you wanted to hang out with them—I should’ve blown them off, grown a fuckin’ pair and invited you out.”

“Tom—“ You interrupt softly.

“It’s not that I’m scared,” Tom continues, “just don’t wanna ruin what we have—but there’s so much—I can’t help thinkin’ about you and not in the way makes you an absolute nuisance sometimes—“

“Oh, fuck you.” You retort, a giggle settling in your chest.

“I dunno if you even look at me that way,” Tom shrugs, feeling ridiculous, “but I can’t lie to you anymore.”

“Tom,” You start again, his name on your tongue making his cock twitch in his pants, “I make you fuckin’ lunch everyday, I suffer going out with your obnoxious friends, I let you hang all over me and you think I don’t look at you that way—“

“Should’ve done things like this,” Tom laughs to himself, self-deprecating and sipping at the lingering few ounces left in the bottle, “dunno why I forced you out tonight.”

“You didn’t force me,” You shrug, “—didn’t force me to kiss you either.”

Tom laughs slightly, his body shaking with the movement.

“Where do we go from here?” Tom asks, feeling lost in this area anymore, after Ruth. 

“Tom,” You say, voice lingering and teasing as you glare at him, head cocked to the side, “you brought me back here, didn’t you?”

He nods, unsure of where you were going. It’s sweet, endearing in the idea that he’s completely lost. 

You make the first move, resting the half empty bottle on the countertop behind him before you’re shifting over his lap, the contact of your bare thighs against his palms bringing him back to the surface, half empty beer bottle clanging to the floor behind you—

“Fuck, the mess—“ You glance back toward the noise but Tom’s quickly distracting you, a hand on the side of your face to guide you back to him.

“Yeah,” He nods, “fuck it.”

You nod silently in agreement, smiling as he leans forward to press his lips against yours. It’s hesitant, new, different from the kiss in the bar—that was performative, a means to an end.

This kiss was everything else. A first for you both—it was the first time Tom had kissed anyone outside of Ruth and for you, it was strange, kissing your best friend. But, it felt good. It felt right.

Tom sighs into your mouth, lips parting in a motion that allows his tongue to slip out, testing the waters as he grazes your top lip, his brow furrowing in concentration as your thighs tighten against his hips, rising on your knees as his hands traverse and explore lower, his fingers grazing the skin under your skirt, the loose fabric bunching around your hips, feeling futile and useless. 

It’s not long before there’s less coordination and more of your bodies rubbing against each other in a desperate need for relief, kisses having melded into breathing wantonly into each other’s mouths and Tom is the first to speak, breaking the comfort silence that had fallen over.

“S’not fair,” He whines softly, his hands appearing at your neck, fingers disappear into the root of your hair as he angles your chin up, giving him perfect access to exactly where he wanted to be, his lips latching onto the skin and your pulse stuttering under the touch, “god, it’s not fair.”

You pull back curiously, fingertips grazing the red tips of his ears, a sated smile on his. “What are you on about?”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t rush into things again,” Tom admits, his voice low, like he’s telling a secret he shouldn’t, “I’ve only ever been with her, haven’t been with anyone since—don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“That’s too bad,” You pout slightly, feeling a buzz flow through you, and given that you don’t drink often, it seems like that may be the culprit, “really wanted to get off tonight, but—“

“No, no—fuck, s’just, I don’t have anything here.” Tom explains, “It’s not on my mind lately, plus it’s usually just me—“

“Oh?” You perk up, voice airy as lean into, lips grazing his own briefly. He huffs a short laugh into your mouth. 

“Yeah, sorry—“

“Don’t be,” You swiftly assure him, “M’not judging. It’s kind of…sweet, actually.”

“That I’m jackin’ off every night?” Tom asks, pulling back with an ire of confusion on his face. “Love, I think you’ve had too much to drink—“

“That you’re not fucking a different girl every other night—not that there’s anything wrong with it. But, look at James,” Tom nods knowingly, “he up and skipped town because he knocked that one girl up, the last thing on my mind is kids or relationship, but I like you, Tom.” 

“I’d hope so,” He chuckles, “since you’re already pressed up against my cock and all—can’t even tell you the last time I thought about another girl that wasn’t you.”

You settle slightly, cunt pressed tightly against the zipper of his jeans, the hard and heavy line of his cock pressing against you. Tom hisses at the contact.

“So, you’re touching yourself to me?”

“S’that bad?” He asks, hoping it won’t send you running in the other direction.

You shake your head, adding a small tilt of your hips to drive him deeper into insanity, his hands latching onto your hips in an instant.

“Wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ about?”

“Right now?” Tom asks, answering before you can respond, “You. This—how I’m probably gonna wake up and it’s just some fucked up dream I’m havin, my mind teasing me.”

You laugh at his rambling, pulling him back into focus with a cant of your hips, hands slipping under the hem of his shirt and pressing against bare skin, the soft outline of his toned chest. He’s proper fit, not defined, but he’s solid and sturdy and has enough strength to lift the heavy piles of supplies at work. 

“I meant when you touch yourself, Tom.”

“Oh, uh—mostly your tits, I guess.” Tom admits, “You never button your tops when we work, can’t help it. And uh, your mouth.”

You nod in response, lending your lips to press against the side of his jaw, mouth a wet, sloppy trail along the skin.

“Yeah—yeah, like that, but—“ Tom sighs shakily, his fingers digging into the soft, suppleness of your ass, thumbs pressing against your hip bones and rubbing you slowly against his groin, “mostly on my cock, too.”

“Is that what you want?” You ask softly, “My mouth around your cock?”

Tom laughs nervously, “Yeah—I just—I got something else in mind.”

“Yeah?” You question, the tone in his voice making you curious, body straightening as you look at him.

“Yeah,” He confirms, “Table.”

It’s a one word response. Not a question or a statement. A demand. And normally you’d throw a hundred questions his way, but you can’t be bothered, quickly lifting yourself up a few inches to sit atop the table, sturdier than you expected.

“You trust me, yeah?” Tom asks, more reassuring himself than you, but he needed to hear it. 

“With everything.” You answer without hesitation, watching as he sank to his knees, hands wrapping around your upper thighs to pull your ass flush with the edge of the table. “Why?”

“Just checking.” He shrugs, lopsided smirk painting his face.

That was the Tom you knew, the one you saw everyday. The one that cracked jokes and playfully shoved you out of his way when he was walking down the hall toward the arcade, the one who, despite his obnoxious tendencies, would kneel to tie your laces back up when they came undone.

Except now he was kneeling for different reasons, pupils blown wide as he yanked at your underwear, slipping them over the tattered shoes still stuck to your feet, knowing that all of this was spur of the moment and rushed. You were both running on pure adrenaline and booze, but there were worse ways to spend your night.

“You ever—“ Tom lingers around the words, not saying but implying.

You shrug, noncommittal.

“Only a few times. Never came, though.”

It always sucked. Tom gets the idea, smiling slightly as he leans, teeth latching into the flowy material of your skirt and dragging it up, his lips dragging along the soft skin of your stomach as his nose nudges the sweater up too. 

You were braless underneath, unbeknownst to him. He could figure it out himself, but at the moment, he was much too eager to delve in and consume you.

He latches onto you with no warning, lips suckling at your clit for a brief moment, an intense sensation that has you keening off the table, fingers disappearing into his hair and holding on tight, his short cropped curls giving little to keep you grounded.

He moans still, trailing down to dip his tongue inside of you, a feeling that is indescribable to you now, lost in the feeling. 

It’s ridiculous. No one - not a single fucking soul - should be this good, this easily tuned in to your body, but Tom knows. He knew everything and nothing in the same note and it drives you mad. He knew you—your deepest insecurities, your darkest secrets, the weird little quirks you had when you thought no one was watching. But he also knew you and everything that made you tick; the moans and whimpers fell like a flood, his tongue working tirelessly against your cunt, all soaking and wet as it drenched his mouth, his chin, the ludicrous sound enough to make anyone embarrassed. Your head falls back, hands moving away from his hair to grip the table for purchase and he’s tapping at your thighs for attention, a small movement of his finger. 

And he’s staring—full on grinning behind what part of your cunt was covering his face, skirt having fallen slightly and bunched into his hand to keep it away.

He’s daring you to look at him, watch him bring you to the edge and let him watch as you fall apart.

You let him—but it’s a steep reminder of how easily you’d let him do anything; just a look and you were done for. His eyes said a lot, even in the moments when you were silent, staring each other down from across the room. 

You clench around the tongue that’s buried inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit in a beautiful accident, forcing a surprised gasp from your chest as you lean forward, nearly sitting upright. 

“Oh, right there,” You acknowledge, voice light and airy, “fuck, right there, Tom.”

He moved up a fraction, tongue flicking over your clit wildly, stopping briefly with a question posed on his lips, all shiny and wet with you.

“Your tits—can I see them?”

He feels silly, like he’s back in school and asking a girl for the first time and you laugh, which makes it even more nerve wracking.

“Thought you said it wasn’t because of the tits,” You tease, “that I’m just like all your other mates.”

“You know you’re not,” He tells you, “you’ve never—you’re so much more, you know that.”

You smile slightly, nose scrunching up at the action as you stare at him accusingly, “Alright then, go on.”

He looks surprised almost that you’re asking him, leaning forward an inch more until his hands can sift under your sweater, pulling the fabric over your head in one fluid movement. 

He’s stricken, eyes wide and puppy dogged as he licks at his bottom lip, rising slightly as he nods toward your chest, “You were like that all night?”

You nod shyly, feeling bashful as his hands graze your sides, thumbs rubbing along the underside of your breasts. He’s drinking you in, distracted enough that he doesn’t feel your hand graze the front of his jeans until you have them half undone, fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.

“How long you been like this?” You ask, hands grazing over the small wet patch in the material, fingers cupping the hard line of his cock, shoving his jeans down an inch further. “Since we got here, since we left that bar—“

Your words drift and lull, dragging out as he felt ashamed to admit it. 

“Wasn’t that bad until you sat on my lap,” Tom admits, “and then you fuckin’ kissed me—“

“Yeah?” You reply, pulling him forward gently by the front of his shirt, pressing your lips against his in a messy exchange, tasting you on him. He moans brokenly, the shift pulling you closer and pressing your bare cunt against his dick, ruining the material further, “You mean like that?”

Tom nods desperately, wanting nothing more to fuck you against every square foot of his trailer.

“S’getting late, Tommy.” You say, a tad antagonizing as you pull away, staring at him sternly, “Should I leave?”

“Fuck, sorry. Sorry.” He apologizes, leaning down swiftly to capture your pebbled nipple between his teeth, mouthing brief at the valley of your breasts in a way that has you giggling out loud before he’s sinking back down and burying his face into your cunt, relentless as his pace is furious from the jump.

His fingers join gradually, thick digit sinking into your pussy and clenching, the movements of his tongue deliberate of your clit as he finds that sweet spot, curling his finger inside you until you’re gasping out loud, both hands shifting to cradle his head.

He encourages it, a small noise of acknowledgement as he moans against you, silently begging you to take what you need, riding out the high of your orgasm against his tongue as you come.

“Hu–oh, fuck.” You sigh, his mouth overstimulating as he laps you up, “Tom–fuck, Tom, too much.”

Tom laughs, finally releasing you to nestle between your legs, smoothing your skirt down as he hooks you knees around his hips, “Come ‘ere,” Tom whispers, tipping your chin up until you lean forward, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss.

“Tom–Tom, hey,” You tell him softly, trying to garner his attention, hands reaching for his opened jeans, “let me–”

“Mmm, yeah–’s okay.” Tom assures you, looking sheepish as he glances down toward your fingers trailing against the thick band of his boxers, “I uh, already came.”

“Oh,” Your voice is small, a smile creeping on your face, “O–Okay.”

“Next time.” He assures you, nodding slightly as your grin grows wider.

“Next time?” You reiterate, tone playful and inquisitive. 

“Uh, unless I’m reading this wrong,” Tom recoils, “I mean, you’re half naked on the table I fuckin’ eat on, s’not like I planned to kick you after either.”

“We’re really not mates anymore, are we?” You ask, watching as he cracks a laugh, shaking his head.

“Don’t think we ever were.”

And considering your current situation, you don’t think things could ever go back to how they used to be, but you didn’t want them to.

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

#tom grant x you #tom grant x y/n #tom grant x reader #tom grant smut #tom grant make up #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #tom grant #joseph quinn #my writing

[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.”

#tom grant x y/n #tom grant x you #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fic #drabble #smut #x reader #mine

[inklore]

okay okay and "I'll always want to listen to you" with tom!! (love that you've included him on your list!!) 💕💕

adore you

pairing: tom grant x (f)reader warnings: minors dni, fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers. etc: this is the first time i’m writing for this sweet boy and he had like ten seconds of screen time so his characterization is hella up to interpretation lmao.

“I’m sorry.” You frown, realize that you’ve spent the last hour rambling; getting lost in your own thoughts, letting all of the frustrations, happiness, excitement, eventful things that had happened to you within the day pour out of you like a stream of exasperation, declarations, gasps, and laughs.

Something that Tom was probably used to from you by now, but something you still felt bad about—getting lost in the stories you needed to get out, that you wanted to tell him. The first person you went to talk to about anything, everything.

It had been like that for the handful of years the two of you had been friends. Tom was always the ear you needed, the friend, the welcome hug, the first thought in your head when anything good or bad happened.

“You’re probably sick of me stealing the thunder of our conversations all the time.” You laugh, press your fingers to your lips nervously, pushing your back into the cushions of his couch a little more.

“No,” he shakes his head, smiling. Reaches out to pull your legs into his lap, pulling you closer to him. “I'll always want to listen to you.”

The small circle he’s rubbing into the side of your ankle makes your stomach flutter, cheeks burn from the smile on them. From the simple act of friendship, of kindness, that feels so much deeper than that in the pit of the organ that’s in your chest—keeping you alive.

You don’t remember when the crush had started, presented itself. Had shown its ugly face ready to ruin everything the two of you had built over the years; the perfect friendship, commitment in each other that went far past the normal understanding of being there for a friend, or being a listening ear, or a shoulder to cry on when it came to shitty breakups.

But ever since the feelings had slipped into your heart you can’t help but catch your breath every time your eyes meet from across a room, when you get put on the same workload and you get to spend a little extra time with him—to mostly goof off and throw things at each other, or sit on the floor and talk. Or after work when he all but drags you to his trailer to have dinner with him, watch his favorite show or film.

Stealing glances at him while his face lights up, while he laughed, smiled, poked fun at you.

Your stomach filled with those cheeky butterflies that made your entire chest feel warm and fingers tremble nervously—wanting to reach out and brush against his cheek, or hold his hand, the thought alone nerve ending, merciless to your insides.

It had been two years since his shitty breakup and there hasn't been anyone since. You’d hate to admit it but after the initial two month respite of it all, Tom had become more himself again. The Tom you knew before he was drained from an awful relationship, a Tom you never let yourself feel anything for because he was in a relationship, because these types of feelings were tricky, scary.

And now you couldn't run from them even if you tried.

If only you could tell him.

“What?” He asks, eyebrows pulled together as he gives you a questionably teasing look.

“What?”

“You’re staring,” he smirks.

“At you?”

“Mhm.” He presses his lips together, turns his attention back to the ankle he’s currently making feel too warm.

“You wish.”

“Oh, is that right?” He gives no warning when he grips your ankle hard, pulling both your feet into the crook of his arm to start tickling the bottoms of them.

“Tom! Stop!” Your shriek, cries, can be heard from miles away you’re sure as you try to kick out of his hold. A mute point that only pulls you closer to him, your butt almost in his lap.

“Admit it then!”

“Admit what?!”

“That you love staring at me,” he laughs.

You want to spit something smart at him but your body's fight or flight is making you want to throw slaps at him to get him off of you. “Fine!” Your breath is heavy in your lungs, exasperated. “I love staring at you!”

After he’s pulled away, let your feet drop back into his lap, he’s grinning at you. “I know. I like staring at you too.”

#tom (make up) x reader #tom grant x reader #tom (makeup) x you #tom grant #tom grant fluff #tom (make up) #tom grant x f!reader #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant x y/n #tom grant fic #tom make up #make up 2019 #joseph quinn #tom grant imagine #tom grant x fem!reader #blurb week

[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 💖

#tech tuesdays #tech tuesday #tom grant is a sweetheart and i just want to love him #tom grant make up #tom grant smut #tom grant x reader #tom grant #tom grant x female!reader #tom grant x fem!reader #tom grant x you #tom grant x y/n #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn #little lion literature #valentine's day special

[emsgoodthinkin]

‘i sAiD aYe LuVYa ROoF’

god I can’t not say it goofy🤣

#joseph quinn #make up movie #tom grant #tom grant x reader #joe quinn #tom grant x y/n #joseph quinn imagine

[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+)

#fic rec #make up 2019 #tom grant #tom grant smut #tom grant x reader #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fluff #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #tom grant x you #tom grant x y/n #tom grant angst

[wroteclassicaly]

Below, you will find my complete Joseph Quinn Characters masterlist! It includes prompts, drabbles, series, one-shots, concepts, headcanons, and MORE! The character of Eddie Munson (as well as the ships I ship him in/write for) will have an individual masterlist, the rest will be listed below, and as they are written!

* Copyright @wroteclassicaly - Do NOT redistribute, post to another platform, translate, or plagiarize my work (this includes AI) — under any circumstances! Reblogs, comments/feedback are ALWAYS appreciated! *

Stranger Things Masterlist

My library blog

Main Masterlist

Key:

❤️‍🔥 = smut

💔 = angst, depression, & anger

💝 = fluff & comfort

Series titles are in bold red

Appropriate warnings and tags will ALWAYS be added!

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steddie Masterlist

EdNancy Masterlist

Tom Grant

(coming SOON)

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #tom grant #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things 4 fic #stranger things 4 fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #tom grant x you #tom grant x reader #tom grant x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

[multific]

The Moon to Whom You Belong to

Khonshu x Reader

Summary: Harrow's hatred towards Khonshu was clear, but to hurt you in order to anger the God was a low blow. 

You saw him everywhere you went.

He stood on top of buildings, watching you.

He knew what he was doing. He was annoying you.

But you were mad at him.

Who could have possibly thought that dating an ancient Egyptian God would be a bad idea?

Not you. Khonsu was truly magical and even if his last avatar, Arthur, didn't see that, in your eyes, Khonshu never changed.

Arthur hated Khonshu and despised him to the point where he wanted to bring Amit back just to get revenge.

Arthur knew you, he often saw you with Khonshu he knew what you meant to the God. And knowing this, Khonshu was afraid Harrow is going to use you to get back on him. 

So, his only logical solution to this problem was to do everything in his power to lock you away. 

He found a new avatar, Marc Spector, but you were not allowed to meet him. Khonshu explained to you just how broken Marc was, but never gave you a real reason why he kept you locked in your home. 

Of course, you knew it had to do with Arthur and his plan of revenge. Arthur was an easy man to read, and you also overheard many times whenever he was talking to himself about how much he hated Khonshu amongst other things.

So, when you told Khonshu that you didn't need to be locked in a dark place just until Harrow is dead, the God took offence. 

He wanted nothing but to protect you, and you knew that, but this was too much.

You decided to go to work, as usual, and carry out your daily things as usual. 

And so, Khonshu followed you, every day he watched you, making sure no one would hurt you. 

Every time you sat on the bus, as you looked out the window, you saw him, standing there, standing or sitting on buildings. 

Just how possessive this bird truly was?

If it was up to him, he would have you in a palace, he often talked about how you need to be treated as a Queen, he would have you wrapped in silks, fed to your liking with no questions asked. He would have you sit on a throne, much like a pharaoh, but he would make sure everyone knew you were more important than anyone else.

And you loved him, you loved even his overprotective and possessive nature. You loved him because he made you feel like no one else ever, he made you feel important, loved and cared for even if he couldn't kiss you, his body language and soft touches proved it all.

You always tried to pay attention, you knew Arthur had many followers. And you were sure you have seen many of them without even knowing.

They could be everywhere, the lady in the store, the new coworker at work, an old coworker at work. Anywhere and anyone could be a follower.

But he didn't have to be so controlling about it. He could have just told you not to go out or just talked with you instead of breaking your door and getting it stuck. He could have sat down and told you to stay safe, you would have called in sick for work. But because of the way he behaved, you behaved just as well.

And here you were now, in the bus stop, waiting while he was watching you from across the street.

"Go home." he would say. But you didn't listen.

And you probably should have.

But he still blamed himself.

You were stubborn as much as he was, but it was still his fault. He didn't protect you, he wasn't there for you.

You had a feeling for a while now that someday something would happen. That one day he will send his people and harm you.

Yet, you weren't prepared.

Khonshu took his eyes off you for a minute. A literal minute and everything went to hell.

You weren't taken, but they sure tried. 

If it wasn't for Khonshu and the quickness of his new avatar, you would have been gone. Khonshu would have burned the entire world down to find you, but he didn't have to. 

Jake Lockley saved you, and you were back with Khonshu, standing on a tall building. He didn't let go of you. Not even for a second.

"This is all my fault." he said as his finger ran over your wrist, you managed to hurt it when you tried to free yourself, you fell and even fractured the bone. "All my fault that My Little Star is hurt." he said, voice full of guilt and pain.

"I am the one to blame. I should have listened to you and stayed home." you knew it was your fault, your fault for being so stubborn.

You tried to prove to him that you could take care of yourself. You grew up just fine, you didn't need his protection. 

But you should have just accepted it, you should have just said thank you and stayed behind. You were weak, and you had to accept that sometimes it was okay to get help from others.

You placed your other hand on his chest and let him pull you close.

"From now on, I will listen to you." you said, promising him to do as he said might not be the best move, but you knew it was the only thing he would accept and calm him.

"Thank you, Stardust. I will also try not to listen that much to my overprotective tendencies. We can find a middle ground I'm sure."

You smiled as he squeezed you against his towering frame.

He used to get smaller when he was with you, still much taller than you but you asked him not to. He didn't need to hide from you.

"I'd like to meet your Knight. I need to thank... them." you looked up at him and he nodded.

"Tomorrow, for now, I need you with me alone. I need your help with a plan. I cannot possibly find what Harrow is looking for, we need to get there before him."

You liked it when he asked your help or opinion on things. But you liked it better that he didn't even let you leave his embrace for the rest of the evening.

You were his Star and he cannot lose you.

He was your Moon to whom you belonged to. Easy as that. 

---

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

#Khonshu #khonshu x reader #khonshu x you #khonshu x y/n #khonshu imagine #khonshu imagines #khonshu x fem reader #Moon Knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight series #moon knight imagine #moon knight imagines #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #tom hiddleston x reader #god x reader #ancient egyptian gods

[rocknrollbabe14]

One Last Breath (Billy Knight x Reader) Part One

Warnings: Emotional triggers, schizophrenic behaviors, attempted suicide, depression, and anxiety. If I forgot anything, let me know.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

@josephs-quinns

You took a deep breath, walking down the white, pristine hallway. It was a great contrast to the patients who were in this facility. Some came in looking dirty and worn down. The nurses told you it was attributed to their psychiatric issues. You hadn't been at St. Mary's long before you encountered some dangerous situations—being backed into a corner, a patient threatening to kill you. Your parents were worried about your chosen profession. 

    But this profession felt like your calling. You wanted to help people—get them back to their normal, their baseline.. A lot of patients came in because they were found on the street causing trouble from being out of their psych meds. Some were brought in because they threatened to kill someone. Some had a psychotic break. Some were just depressed and needed somewhere to go—some guidance. You wore your white uniform, a button-up dress with white stockings and white shoes. The whole nine yards.

    You approached your next patient's room. He was a new admission. But he had spent several visits here, according to the nurses. Even reviewing his chart, you noticed he had been in and out of St. Mary's several times. Mostly because he ran out of his psych meds and felt out of control, his brother usually brought him in.

    "Mr. Knight?", you spoke gently, careful on approaching patients like him.

    William Knight was a young man. Not much older than you. He looked slightly disheveled when he came in. His eyes were sunk in, he had a thin frame. It was clear he didn't take care of himself. 

    He looked up at you. "Please, call me Billy. Just Billy. You don't work for the government or the police, do you? I know they spy on me.", he tensed up, taking his hand and hitting his face.

    His paranoia was in full force. A typical sign of being schizophrenic. 

    You shook your head, rushing over to him and taking his hand gently. "No, no Billy. I'm a nurse assistant. I'm here to help you get better. You're in the hospital, do you remember your brother bringing you in?"

    He nodded, slowly. Tears welled up in his brown eyes. 

    It was best to call them what they requested even if it was something ridiculous and outlandish. They taught you that in school. 

    "I've come to see if you need anything. Your nurse is getting your nighttime medication together.", you patted his hand, reassuringly. 

    The rooms in the psychiatric hospital were designed so that the patient could not hurt themselves. If patients came in and felt suicidal, they were always put on suicide precautions and had to have a sitter. His eyes focused on you before looking down. He was like a scolded puppy. Billy had schizoaffective disorder. It was the most misunderstood and misdiagnosed psychiatric disorder. He had the depressive type. There were three different types of schizoaffective disorder. You imagined he would be here for a week or longer to give his medication time to kick in and help him get back to his baseline. 

    "I'm fine.", he responded dryly, his voice cracking slightly. 

    You imagined it was him attempting to get used to his medication again. Patients were like this when they first started their medications back, almost like zombies with moments of outbursts. 

    "Okay, Billy. Well, if you decide you need anything, just press the red button on your remote and I'll be right in to check on you. Okay?", you grabbed his call light, showing him which button to push if he needed you. 

    He nodded, finally calming down. "Okay."

    You gave him a soft smile, before going to leave his room, taking one last look back at him. He went back to watching television aimlessly. You walked back down the hallway, brushing your dress. This line of work was not for the weak or easily bothered. You were a nurse's assistant. Your dream was to finish your nursing degree and continue to work in the psych field. Lately, you were doing swing shifts. Some weeks you'd work the day shift, others you'd work the night shift. This rotation just happened to be the night shift. 

    When your parents talked to you, your mom would voice how she and your father knew this job was taking a toll on you. But they thought the job as a whole was taking a toll on you. It was winter, a few weeks until Christmas. You were scheduled to be off this year. 

    "Is Mr. Knight okay?", his nurse asked you, working at her computer.

    "He's okay, just having some paranoia.  And he prefers to be called Billy.", you sat down at the desk. 

    She nodded. "I'll remember that. Bless his heart he's been in and out every few months for the past few years."

    At night, the patients appeared to be calmer and more contained. They had their medication, enabling them to rest better. However, every now and then, a patient would lose it, causing a big ruckus at night. You'd seen it happen a few times. You took a sip of your coffee, blinking your eyes and reminding yourself you had to stay awake. 

    "What usually happens?", you asked.

    "He doesn't follow up with his therapist and lets his medications run out. His problem is mostly non-compliance with his meds. His brother usually finds him, in a depressive schizophrenic episode. Brings him in."

    You sighed. "Does he live alone?"

    His nurse nodded. "Looks like it. You'd think his brother would stay with him, knowing he's mentally ill and all."

    Mentally ill. That was a term you tried to stay away from using. You didn't like it. It was very negative. 

    "So, what does he do?"

    "He comes in, hallucinating. Paranoia. Thinks the government or someone is after him. It's quite sad, really."

    You nodded again. You could only imagine how horrible it must be to feel like someone is watching you or your every move. You wanted to understand the patients better and listen to why they did what they did. What drove them to do it?  The idea was to round on the patients every two hours. You rounded on Billy, he was still awake and watching television, staring at the screen.

    "Are you okay, Billy?"

    He nodded.

    "Do you need anything?", you asked again.

    He shook his head. "I'm alright."

    "Okay, I'll check on you shortly."

    He nodded again as you left the room. 

    During your next few rounds, Billy was finally asleep. You didn't disturb him, just keeping an eye on him. You knew he had to be tired, exhausted from his psych episode. Over the next few days, Billy was improving. He was going to group therapy, talking about his experiences. You often sat in on their sessions. You found it interesting to listen to patients. He was very open with his past, stating his mom had died when he was very young and he and his brother were subjected to his father's abuse. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. 

    Somehow, Billy managed to be the damaged one. His brother seemed to live a normal life from what you could gather. He talked highly of his brother, however, it bothered you that his brother only brought him in when he was having a psych episode. His brother described him as hard to handle, "mentally fucked up in the head". You remembered seeing that specifically in his chart. You didn't know. You weren't working the night they brought Billy in. You had three days off during that time. 

    The group therapy session ended, and each patient left the room. Billy passed you, giving you a small smile. You returned the gesture. After group therapy, the patients had lunch. After lunch, the patients were able to participate in activities like crafts.  The patients were never allowed to have scissors. A lot of patients preferred to color while listening to music, it often helped relieve stress, anger, or anxiety. Billy was the last to file out of the room, you following behind. You kept a distance from him to prevent him from feeling like you were following him. 

    Billy hung his head down, not meeting the glances from the other patients. He often did this, you had noticed. After spending thirty minutes in their rooms, the patients went into the dining hall for lunch. It was around time for you to be able to take your break, but you'd rather watch the patients. 

    "Are you gonna go eat?", Diane, one of the other nursing assists asked.

    You shook your head. "Go ahead. I'll go watch the patients."

    You walked into the dining hall, seeing Billy get his food and going to sit at a table by himself. He thanked the dietary staff. Billy was in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Billy had only the clothes on his back when he was admitted. They were dirty and tattered, according to the other nursing staff. You walked around the room, keeping your hands folded in front of you, so you seemed less intimidating. That's what they instructed to do. You took turns, sitting down with a few different patients. You saved Billy for last. 

    "Hey Billy.", you smiled, coming over to his table.

    "Hi.", he finally greeted.

    "Feeling better?", you asked softly. 

    He nodded. "But you promise no one's watching me?"

    "I promise, Billy. We're just here to help you.", you smiled down at him.

    He nodded. 

    "Can I take a sit down with you?"

    He nodded again. 

    "Thank you for letting me join you, Billy. Is lunch good?"

    He had already finished over half his plate. You wondered if he ate while he was home. He was thin but had gained four pounds since being in St. Mary's. 

    He nodded. "Yes."

    "I'm glad to hear it." 

    It had been cold, with huge snow on. In the spring and summer, the patients were able to go outside. 

"Big snow outside, hm?"

You were attempting to make small conversation with him, anything to keep him talking. 

He nodded. "Never enjoyed the snow as a kid. I didn't get to do a lot outside. Guess it's why I enjoy nature now."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Dad could have cared less about us. Always in a drunken rage.", his face fell.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Billy. You don't have to talk about it."

He sighed. "It's just why I'm so fucked up, isn't it? Why me? And not my brother?", Billy rubbed under his nose, his tick coming back.

You put your hand on his reassuringly. "We don't know. And that's okay. You're doing the bravest thing you can—get treatment. It's very brave of you."

He hung his head. "It doesn't feel like it."

You sat there in silence with him, hoping your presence would bring him some comfort. 

"You are, Billy. I promise. We will help you get straightened out, okay?"

All he could do was nod. 

    Over the next week, Billy seemed to return to almost normal. He had come out of his shell, beginning to open up to you and tell you about his life. You learned his dad was deceased now. Billy swore he watched his dad helped kill and bury a little girl. According to his file, this was proven to be correct. You did your best to skim over the highlights, this being one of them. There were still subtle signs he had schizophrenia, but he was doing so much better and even looked so much healthier. He had gained a total of eight pounds during his stay. It was time to discharge him back to the real world. Right before Christmas. 

    "Good news.", you knocked on his door.

    He smiled up at you, his brown eyes finally had a sparkle in them. One that had been missing. 

    "I get to go home?"

    You nodded, smiling. "Yes, just in time for Christmas."

    You took a seat beside him.

    "Now, it's very important you keep up with your medication regimen, Billy."

    He nodded.

    "And your therapy sessions. Okay? We don't want to see you back here so soon. We'd rather see you out on the streets."

    He nodded, giving you a smile. "Thank you for everything."

    "You're most welcome. Is your brother coming to pick you up?"

    He shook his head, his smile fading. "I don't think so."

    You knew you were wearing a confused look on your face. But you quickly removed it. "Okay."

    You went on to go over his discharge papers, and the doctors at the psych facility adding a new medication to his regimen. You made sure to explain this to him, reminding him to go to the pharmacy to pick up his medications. He signed his discharge paperwork, foregoing the questions regarding if someone was watching him or would follow him. It was bittersweet to watch him leave. He gave you a small wave as he walked out the front doors. Feeling like you had accomplished something, watching him leave. 

    "He'll be back.", the nurse that had taken care of him spoke from behind her computer.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "He'll be back. He won't follow his medication regimen."

    "Maybe he will.", you said, feeling hopeful. 

    She shook her head. "Never has. He won't start now. He needs a strong support system and he doesn't have that.", she stated matter-of-factly.

You wondered if there was anything, any resources the facility could have offered him. Was there anything you could have done differently? You wanted Billy to be successful. You barely knew him but he seemed to genuinely have a good heart. It gnawed at you for the rest of your shift. It even plagued you as you walked into your small apartment, throwing your purse down on the couch. 

    Over the next couple of weeks, you prepared for Christmas. You were going home to see your parents, mentally preparing to hear them trying to convince you to quit your profession and find a new one, a safer one. You were out shopping one evening, carrying your bags on your wrists. You loved Christmas shopping. You always had. It was fun to go find the people you loved gifts that they'd enjoy. You loved to give rather than receive. That's when you saw him. You stopped almost dead in your tracks, blinking as if it would clear your vision. Were you seeing what you thought you were seeing?  He was jogging the streets, looking over his shoulder. He didn't make eye contact with you, straying away from the crowd, gaining odd looks from bystanders passing by on the street.

    Your heart instantly sank, realizing his nurse was right. He was showing symptoms again. It was clear he hadn't followed his medication regimen. 

    "Sir, are you okay?", a voice asked him.

    His face was scrunched in worry, you watched his hand come up to his nose, sniffling. It was his tick.

    "Don't talk to me! Don't ask me questions!", he screamed, almost in a wail, his voice shaky. 

    You felt your eyes widen. The person quickly walked off, looking back at him in disbelief. You cleared your throat, wanting to talk to him and try to calm him down. But you were off duty and all the training in the back of your mind telling you not to. Deep down inside, you knew he'd be back at the facility soon enough. But what could happen before he arrived back at the facility? One thing about psych patients is they are unpredictable. He continued to look over his shoulders as he wandered down an alleyway. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of your sails, knowing Billy was having an episode and no one was there to help him.

    Against your better judgment, your feet began moving quickly, tracing his steps. Your bags hit your torso and thighs, but you didn't care. You wanted the best for all your patients. But there was something about Billy Knight that really tugged at your heartstrings. You couldn't explain it. You rounded the corner, looking down the alleyway, but there was no one there. He was already gone. You had lost him and now you had to wonder what would become of him. 

    Christmas day arrived. You were dressed in your best clothes--black slacks and a white sweater, preparing to go to your parent's house. The phone rang abruptly, and you rushed over to grab it. It was probably your mom wondering why you hadn't left yet. 

"Y/N?"

It was your manager at St. Mary's.

"Yes? Is everything okay? Did I forget something?", you asked.

"No, no. Um, we need you to come in. Please."

"On Christmas? I had plans to visit my mom and dad."

This couldn't be happening. 

"I know, it's rather bad timing but we have a situation down here and we really need your help. We can pay you time and a half plus you'll receive holiday pay."

You sighed, feeling dread come on. "I've got to call my mom and dad to cancel my plans. Then, I'll be there."

Your manager thanked you before you sat down on the couch and sighed as you eyed the pile of presents sitting underneath your tree. You slowly dialed your parent's number, already trying to mentally prepare what you were going to say. Your mom would not be happy. Her cheerful voice came on the line as you carefully began explaining that work needed you. Just as you suspected, she didn't take it well. You slid your nice clothes off, slipping back into your white uniform. You were in such a hurry, you forgot to put your hair up. 

You arrived at work, your purse on your shoulders. The Christmas lights were illuminating the sleeping town of London. No one was out. You pushed open the doors, hearing commotion immediately behind the locked doors. You swiped your badge, and the door unlocked and allowed you to enter. All hands were on deck it appeared, seeing the sea of white uniforms hovering over one patient. 

"Y/N, mind giving us a hand?"

You sat your purse down quickly, rushing over to see a familiar face--Billy Knight. He was lying on a stretcher, with EMS transporting him to the psychiatric facility. His wrist was bandaged up, however, you could still see that some blood was soaking through. They had him restrained, both chemically and physically. 

Your heart immediately sank into your stomach. "What happened to him?" 

"Billy tried to kill himself, slit his wrist with a knife. Man's just lucky he didn't nick an artery.", another nurse eyed you. 

"Who found him?", you asked.

"A bystander called 911."

You nodded but immediately felt hopeless. You felt partially responsible. What if you had been able to find him that night? All these thoughts were rushing through your head. Could you have done anything to change this outcome? 

Another nurse eyed you and seemed to be able to read your mind. "Hey, you can't fix him. Nobody can. He's damaged goods."

You watched as they rolled Billy over, removing most of his clothing and placing him in hospital pants, a gown, and a straight jacket before carrying him and placing him in the white padded room, where patients who were under suicide precautions went. He was sedated, barely grunting as they placed him inside the room, and closed the door. You felt tears welling in your eyes, trying to blink them away. 

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn character #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie imagines #eddie munson #billy knight #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x reader #billy strike #joseph x reader #stranger things #tom grant #tom make up #Youtube

[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. ♡

#tom grant smut #tom grant x y/n #tom grant x you #tom grant make up #tom grant x reader #tom grant #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #my writing

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Marvel Fics

Bittersweet Tragedy (Completed)

Summary: The Spider-Man from your universe wasn't a hero. He was a villain and he killed your family.

After getting revenge for their death, you get pulled into an alternative universe where you come face-to-face with three different Spider-Men and your entire world gets turned upside down.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: language, blood, injury, death, suicidal thoughts

-

Protector (Completed)

Summary: Eddie Brock was your cute mysterious neighbour. The two of you never really crossed paths, but when a creepy man followed you back to your apartment, you knock on Eddie's door for help.

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warning: Attempted sexual assault. Nothing is written in detail and not much really happens, but there is a male being a dickhead and trying to take advantage of Y/N.

-

Barely Breathing (Completed)

Summary: When Steven asks why you're wearing long sleeves on a hot day, Marc quickly fronts because he knows exactly what you are hiding on your wrists.

Pairings: Steven Grant x Reader & Marc Spector x Reader

Trigger Warning: Self-harm, blood, cuts (no actual description of doing it, just the aftermath)

-

Main MASTERLIST

#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #spider man x reader #peter parker x you #eddie brock x reader #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight #marc spector x you #steven grant x y/n #tom hardy #oscar isaac #andrew garfield #tom holland #tobey maguire

[warmaidensrevenge]

Tom is a fool in love

Tom Grant x Plus size reader

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

Warning: angst, cursing.

Part 2

Summary: Tom falls deeper in love with you. Winter holds many secrets.

❄️🖤🤍

Tom spent the month mostly with you any chance he got. Watching movies, having dinners. He worked constantly. Much of the little time he had was spent with you. He always thought about you when he was working. Your smile. How your resting face would change when you saw him. How you moved so gracefully in the kitchen when you were working to feed the others. He couldn't remember smiling so much. You were this beautiful, kind angel. Filled with useless facts that he loved to hear. You were very quiet when it came to others. But with him you were this giggling mess. Oh how he loved to hear your laugh. As your friendship progressed he became more enthralled with you.

One day there was a moment. Tom had just washed up and was getting ready to head to a birthday party for Frank. When he went to your camper. He knocked but there was no answer. So he made his way to the cabins and asked for you. Finding out you were in the kitchen. So he went. He saw you mixing a batch of frosting. You were making a cake for Frank. But seems like you got a bit behind. You look flustered.

" Ello love."

You looked at him and your frown was immediately gone.

"Hey Thomas. I ummm I'm almost done. Sorry I'm late. It's just someone got burned today and I had to make sure they were ok."

" No it's fine. Uh do you need any help?"

" No that's ok. I got it. Thanks"

You turned to pipe the frosting and started to decorate the cake. Tom moved closer to see your work.

" Chocolate?"

You smiled. "Yeah it's his favorite. With chocolate buttercream frosting. It's a little to rich for me but he really has a sweet tooth."

" I love chocolate as well."

" Yeah?" You hand him the bowl that had a bit of leftover frosting.

Tom took it and started scooping the sides bringing his finger to his mouth.

"mmmm oh yeah. That's so fucking good."

You laughed and finished up. You stepped back to admire your work.

"Yeah I don't know if the cake will make it over to the party. That looks so delicious." Tom said and you looked over to him and laughed.

He had chocolate all over. Like he put his face in the bowl and licked.

"God Thomas. You are such a child."

Tom looked at you and pouted. You shook your head and grabbed a washcloth and started cleaning his face. Your soft hand cupped his chin to give your other hand some support. Making sure not to push down too hard. He was staring at you. He wanted to kiss you. His hand slid up to hold on to your hip. Fingers slightly dug into your jeans. You finally met his gaze and bit your lip. You ran your thumb across his bottom lip. His mouth slightly agape. Tom's breath quickened. He was about to pull you closer and lean when you pulled away to the sink. He watched as you washed your hands.

"Alright. Good to go." You said.

Tom nodded with a his lips pressed. He followed you out the kitchen and to the party.

That meant something right? You guys had a moment. But why did you pull away? Did you not like him? Where you not ready? Whatever it was Tom just stood quietly during the party with a drink in hand while watching you walk around talking to others.

...

Season came and Tom saw less and less of you. You worked everyday. Even the days you were suppose to have off, he always found you in that damn kitchen. You would always be too busy to chat for long. But he was happy that he got anytime at all. He was also so busy. But he went home every night falling asleep before you got home. And in the morning you were already gone. It's weird to say because he saw you every day. But he missed you terribly.

Season came and went. And Tom could not have been more excited. Now he could finally get back to seeing you. The days were getting shorter and the nights grew longer. The temperature dropped and all the campers where turned down for the winter. Those who stayed in campers stayed in the main lodge during winter. It would get too cold to stay in them.

Tom picked a room that was next to you. Just to be as close to you as he could. It was the day before Thanksgiving and he was going to wash up before heading to the dining hall. While he walked to his room he saw light coming out from under your door.

What where you doing there? You said you would be prepping for tomorrow. He was curious why you weren't preparing for supper as well. So he knocked. You opened the door and Tom saw the used Kleenex on your bed and what looked like a photo album. Your eyes blood shot, nose slightly red.

" Hey Thomas what's up?" Your voice was horse. And you took a step back from the door to allow him to come in.

" I saw the light. You a'right?" He said while closing the door behind him. He cupped your face and held onto your waist.

You grabbed his wrist that was by your face. And looked down." I'm ok. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

He lifted your chin to meet his gaze.

" What's wrong love?"

"It's- It would have been our fourth wedding anniversary."

He could tell you were fighting back your tears. Not wanting to cry in front of him. Or anyone as a matter of fact. So he just pulled you in and held you. What else could he do?

After a bit you pulled him to the bed and showed him pictures of you and your late husband. It hurt him to say the least. He was jealous that someone else made you that happy. But then he immediately felt awful. Both of you had a life outside this place. He couldn't be upset that you weren't married to him. But he did wish he could have met you before.

"You know it's not like I don't know he's not coming back" you were looking at a selfie of you two. "I spent 2 years learning how to live without him. To grieve. It's just sometimes its like this wave that washes over me knocking me down and when I get up and think I'm ok, another crashes over me again. I miss him. He was my best friend. The only person I opened up to like this. And I keep waiting for the day where this gets better you know. But I keep asking why am I not better yet? Its been so long. Haven't I cried enough? What else is it gonna take? I already forgot how his voice sounded. And if it weren't for these pictures. I'm sure I would start forgetting his face too."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

"Y/n. I don't know what to say. All I know is you never get over loss. You only learn to live with it. I wish I could carry some of the weight for you. And I'm sorry your hurting. But if you need me, I will be here."

You put the album to the side and face Tom "Thank you" you said before hugging him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and Tom hugged your waist. He breathed you in. He knew this wasn't the appropriate time to do this. But he's never been this close to you before. Your large bosom pressed firmly against his chest. Your hot breathe against his ear. God he wanted you. But definitely not like this.

You had pulled away just a bit and looked into his eyes. And you leaned and so did he. A small gasp left your mouth and you pulled away.

" i-i I'm sorry. I was umm aiming for your cheek. Crap. I'm so sorry." You were so flustered.

" "No no I'm sorry I was uhh going for your cheek too." But Tom wasn't. Seeing you freak out didn't feel too good.

After a moment you started to laughed. Tom realize that you guys were still holding onto each other. And your laugh made him laugh. You hugged him again. But pulled away after a few seconds.

" Thomas Man you're ripe."

He lifted his arm to sniff it. You were right it was bad. He looked at you and grinned.

"Thomas no. Don't you dare." You couldn't help from smiling and that gave him the go ahead

Tom tackled you shoving his pits in your face and started to tickle.

" Oh god! Stop it! Thomas please" you begged through a fit of giggles

But it was your small snort that made Tom stop to look at you. You had already covered your nose and mouth.

" Sorry. I-I don't normally do that." Your words came out a bit muffled behind your hands

" Don't be sorry. It's cute."

" Oh please. It is not...But thanks for trying."

Tom looked into your eyes. You bit your lip and he want to suck on it. But you cleared your throat and he got off.

" I uhh better go and shower then."

You nodded and as he left he looked back.

" y/n I mean it. If you need me-"

" I'll find you." You said cutting him off.

"Goodnight love."

" Night"

All Tom could think about the moment he stepped out into the hall was your lips. He got to kiss you. On accident but a kiss is a kiss.

...

The holidays were slow. Not many guest came. There was a Christmas party coming up a bit earlier than normal. The theme secret Santa. Tom really wanted to pick your name but just his luck he got Lisa. An older woman that reeked of mentol cigarettes. He got her 3 cartons of her favorite brand. And a bottle of wine. It was 2 weeks before Christmas and everyone was in the lobby. It was only 9 of you now. Everyone was laughing, eating and drinking. You had made a feast. After everyone was full and buzzed it was time for the presents.

"Ok everyone remember this is secret Santa so do not tell who gave what."

You sat next to Tom and watched happily as everyone got their gifts.

Tom watched you open yours. You had gotten a large portrait of your family. You were so happy that you teared up. But you immediately shook your head to push the feeling away. You thanked everyone since you didn't know who gave it to you.

Frank handed Tom his gift. It was a envelope. When he opened it his eyes widen. It was a first class round trip home dated 2 days before Christmas. He looked around to see if he could find out who gave it to him. He looked at you first but you were looked at your portrait. It couldn't have been you, you would have told him.

" So what is it Thomas?" You asked.

He showed you. And you had the biggest smile.

" I can't go. You guys need me here."

" Please it's only for the holiday. I'm sure we can survive without you for a few days." You said.

You noticed his apprehension. " Hey Frank. Is it cool that Thomas goes home for Christmas?"

" uhh duh. Go see your family son"

"See. Now go call your mom. Tell her you'll be home for Christmas." You smiled at him

He was so happy. He practically ran to the phone. While he was on the line he kept looking over to you.

" Hey mum I'm gonna bring someone."

"Tom you have a girlfriend and you didn't tell me."

"no mum she's just a friend."

He hung up happier than before. He went to find Frank.

" hey umm how bad do you need y/n around for Christmas?"

" uhh why?"

" She's been wanting to go to London and what better time to go. And she can go with someone who knows their way around."

Frank smiled. " It should be fine. Just bring her back safe ok."

He agreed and went to you.

" hey y/n can you come to my room for a second I have a gift for you."

You guys walked back to his room. You sat in bed and watched him close the door.

" you know we were supposed to get only one gift right?"

" I know but I just got yours right now."

You were confused.

"So your going to London. With me. And before you say you can't, I already talked to Frank. He said it's ok."

" umm do you know how much it cost to get a ticket right now?"

" don't worry about that. I have a plan. I'm going to change this first class ticket for 2 coache ones."

"No Thomas. Remember when you told me you hated coache."

" No it's fine. We will get ones next to each other. And it will be fun."

"No. That's your present. Frank will be pissed if you exchange his gift."

" Stop it. You are coming. And that's final!"

After a few more protests you agreed.

" But I do have one request. I get the window seat."

You laughed and nodded

...

"Ready?" He asked as you guys stood outside his family home.

You were so excited. "Yes"

You guys went in. The smell of food was incredible.

" Mum?"

" Tommy! Oh sweetheart" his mom came and hugged him. Practically lifting him off his feet.

" where's pa?"

" He's working love. But he will be here for supper."

Tom nodded. " Mum this is y/n"

" Hi. It's nice to finally meet you. Thank you so much for have me. Thomas told me so much about you." You said holding out your hand.

But Tom's mom pushed your hand aside and gave you a big hug.

" welcome love. I've heard so much about ya as well."

" Good things I hope."

" oh yes my Tommy fancies you."

You laughed and Tom gave his mother a look of please shut up.

" ya must be tired. Won't ya wash up and take a nap." Tom's mother said pointing upstairs. " The first door on the left is your room and the second door on the right is the Loo. I want to talk to my boy for a minute before he joins you."

You nodded and left.

Tom waited until he heard the door shut.

"mum! Why did you say that?! She doesn't know that I like her."

"Are you sure about that? Why would she agree to come all this way here with you instead of going home? Besides she's not wearing her ring anymore."

" What she wasn't?"

" Common Tommy you really need to start paying more attention to her if you love her."

"I don't"

"Mum!"

" don't lie to your mum. You have never brought a girl here besides Ruth. And that's a good thing. She doesn't seem anything like her. She most definitely doesn't look like that stick."

" What? I don't have an issue with her weight. Have you seen me? She's beautiful Tommy. And she seems real good for ya. Now shut it. She's waitin' on ya"

Tom watched his mother go back to the kitchen. You weren't wearing you ring anymore....

After a lovely Christmas you guys said your goodbyes and went home. Tom's mum made you a scarf. You weren't expecting anything and you absolutely loved it.

...

Finally settled in your rooms you took a nap. And Tom went to find Frank.

" Hey welcome back. Did you have a nice time?"

"Yes it was absolutely amazing. I uhh wanted to thank you for the gift. It really meant a lot to me."

" What are you talking about?" Frank asked with confusion in his voice.

" The plane ticket. I know we weren't suppose to know who got who what. But y/n said you would be upset if I exchanged them."

" uhh son I didn't give you the ticket. Y/n did." Frank said with a smile. "She switched with me to be your secret Santa"

" Bloody hell"

" Common son. Do you think any of us could afford a first class ticket out the country so close to Christmas? You know how much we make."

" Yeah. But how did y/n afford it? She makes as much as we do."

" Son she's loaded. Her husband left her a lot. Even a house."

" Then why is she here?"

" That Tom I don't know. I think she just likes to work."

Tom stood there dumfounded. He hadn't known you as well as he thought. But he decided that was definitely going to change.

...

#tom x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant x reader #tom grant #tom x y/n #plus size reader #fanfic

[littlelioncub43]

Tom getting moody after a call from Ruth... so you block her new number and spend the rest of the night making him forget her name. Or anyone's name but yours and God's, really.

One word: overstimulation.

It was your one true mission to kill him. He was sure of it. It had to be. That's the only explanation for the way you're making him cum again and again and again.

Tom was flat on his back, one hand clawing at your hips and the other fisting the sheets while thick ropes of his cum filled you again. He needs to ground himself somehow, or else he would float off into space. You were cooing loving words into the sweaty hinge of his jaw as he caught his breath while he whimpered your name like it was a prayer.

He could feel everything, the room was stuffy and his skin felt like it was on fire. The ringing in his ear quieted for a moment as he rode out his searing high, you were still moving, lovingly riding him into oblivion, the mess of your shared past orgasms coating your entire lower halves.

It was building again, the tension burning in the pit of his tummy, the throbbing in his sensitive cock nestled deep inside you, the ache in his balls as they draw up in anticipation. You can feel it too, the way he seems to vibrate underneath you, the twitching of his cock as you gently but quickly bounce on him.

"That's it, that's it, baby, so good, one more," you encourage softly, watching his face closely as he approaches the precipice once more. "Go on, cum for me, Tommy, cum for me."

Tom wants to cry, sob with joy when he feels himself coming for the nth time, and he does. Tears of elation cascade down his cheeks, fat drops that shimmer and mix with the sweat on his temple as he fills you.

"O-Oh God!" He cries, his voice weak and wobbly, his nerves frayed and exposed underneath you. He can barely control the trembling of his body as he clings to you, his muscles twitching and shaking as he holds on to you for dear life. You let him cling to you, the gentle embrace you offer is almost enough to soothe your lover.

You tenderly rake your hand through his hair, cradling him to you as you finally come to a stop. Gentle kisses rain down on Tom as he recovers, his body completely boneless as you hold him, all he can manage is a weak nudge of his head against yours as he nuzzles into you.

"That's my good boy."

#tech tuesdays #tech tuesday #tom grant is a sweetheart and i just want to love him #tom grant make up #tom grant smut #tom grant x reader #tom grant x gn!reader #tom grant x female!reader #tom grant x fem!reader #tom grant x you #tom grant x y/n #tom grant #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn

[emsgoodthinkin]

EEYI SaID 👁️ LUvYa RooF‼️🚭

IM sORRY I HAD to MAKE ANOTHER YALL I KEEP GIGGLING. <3 u joey 😭

#joseph quinn #tom grant x y/n #make up movie #tom grant #joe quinn imagine #eddie munson #joseph quinn fandom #tom grant x reader

[miixed-smau]

Social Media AU Posts

Hi!

I’m not sure how many people this will reach (i’m going to tag as many things as i can think of sorry), but I’m in university and I have to do a lot of graphic design related work and I really enjoy making fake social media posts. I’ve seen a lot of social media au’s on here and thought it might be fun for me to dabble in making some for those of you who are interested in that sort of thing.

If anyone is interested, I think to begin with it will be a little rocky with getting the chosen aesthetic correctly and figuring out what sort of information I would need to complete the request. But classes end this week for me (week of 5/03, I’m in the US so May 3rd) and I think it would be fun to try my hand at some of these. Here’s kind of what I’m thinking of :) 

THESE ARE MINE (literally everything about it is mine except the pictures)

#social media au #smau #harry styles x reader #marvel x reader #peter parker x reader #tom holland imagine #bts x reader #chris evans x reader #harry styles #marvel cast x reader #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #andrew garfield x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #florence pugh x reader #robert pattinson x reader #the batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #x reader

[dreamyquinn]

Quinn Dreamers, Welcome!

I'm introducing myself... well, sort of. My real name will remain secret for now, maybe I'll tell you, maybe I won't. Just to be honest, I don't want any of my friends or family figuring out it's me. The only thing you'll get to know is that my last name is actually Quinn. Isn't that a fucked up joke from the universe?

Maybe that can be my name instead. Hi I'm Quinn.

Other details about me is that I'm Mexican, I'm 31, I love cats, I love writing, I love Joseph Quinn and overall I LOVE Eddie Munson.

My love for this man started at a very lonely and difficult stage of my life and he has become my refuge and savior. This is why I started daydreaming of him a lot and I've gathered a few of those dreams and turned them into fanfics, one shots, smvutty adventures, fluff, angst and all those trends. English is not my first language so this is also an exercise for me to expand my vocabulary.

I hope you enjoy my work, have fun and I'll try to be the most respectful I can. That said, I'm older so a lot of things here will be NSFW | 18+ So NO MINORS. There's a few fics that are pure fluff or comedy but mostly it is intended for adults only.

If for any reason there's something inappropriate, let me know and I'll manage the situation.

Thank you and Welcome to the Quinndom of Dreams ♥

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #arthur havisham #ralph timewasters #ralph penbury #enjolras #leonard bast #tom grant #prince paul #koner x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction