#soft!dom!tom holland
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Praise You Like I Should (CEO!Tom Holland) 18+
Summary: You were always a people-pleaser, desperate to do right by everybody no matter what they asked. Being an intern, your boss Jackson exploited your people-pleaser tendencies in a very unprofessional manner, and CEO Mr Holland wasn't happy about it...
Themes: smut! little bit of fluff and angst, dom!tom and sub!reader, oral (m+f), major praise kink, sir kink, overstimulation, masturbation (alone) , slight jewelry kink
w/c: 10k+
MASTERLIST
You look over the dimly lit hall before you, tables decorated to the nines with hand-folded serviettes, silver-ware suited for royalty, gleaming as they sit on a fresh white linen table cloth, surrounded by tall plum-coloured cushioned chairs. There’s about twelve tables dotted around the hall identical to one another, waiting to be filled by guests in about an hour or so. The room sparkles with the metallic colouring of birthday banners and balloons floating around the room, illuminated by the dancing, multicoloured disco lights.
The surprise birthday party you were instructed to organise is for Mr Holland’s business partner, Taylor. They’re each other's yin and yang, mixing together like oil on water but somehow they make it work. The informal Taylor bases his relationship with his employees on friendship and a sense of mutual equality, where the formal Mr Holland prefers professionalism and respect on top of trust. Nevertheless, both are equally respected as bosses and businessmen in their own right. It doesn’t necessarily mean you all prefer one over the other, but if you had to make a choice as to who you would rather hang out with, the answer is an obvious one.
As an intern, it isn’t exactly part of your remit to organise and host birthday events, but your boss, Jackson, ordered you to do it. Jackson’s notable within the workforce for several reasons; he’s outgoing, social, ambitious, confident, and is unofficially Taylor’s kiss ass. He appointed himself (ahem, you) with the responsibility of organising Taylor’s surprise party, not because he thinks he’s capable, but because he’s looking for recognition. What people don’t know is that he’s actually a lazy guy who has gotten himself drunk with the taste of superiority, abusing you as his own personal slave for favours both big (entirely consequential and out of your depth) and small (worthless and petty). Unfortunate to be his first intern, you’ve realised how gluttonous he’s become with you at his disposal how and whenever he pleases. However, being placed at the bottom of the pecking order, you’re not at liberty to say no.
Jackson’s not your favourite boss by any means, but by God he keeps you busy. It tooks weeks for you to organise the venue, the catering, the entertainment, the decorations, the invitations, most importantly the cake, and the little oddities that everyone forgets about like hand-written name tags and having straws at the bar. You’ve been working relentlessly and after weeks of stress, late and often sleepless nights, numerous phone calls and emails, cancellations and rebookings, tonight is the night that all of that can end. The curse of being a perfectionist and a people-pleaser can finally release its hold on you.
Just as you finish clarifying the itinerary with the hotel’s bar staff, you notice a dark figure walking through the entrance. Your eyes trail nervously from the black patent shoes to the white shirt peeking beneath the black suit of which belongs to Mr Holland. He has his tortoise shell glasses perched perfectly on his nose, reflecting the colours of the disco lights as he walks towards you, stoic and poised. A silent ‘fuck’ crosses your mind.
Being the CEO eight floors above you, Mr Holland’s face isn’t one that you see as consistently as Jackson’s. He’s at least 6 tiers above you in the pecking order, one of two to take superiority over a long line of directors, specialists, managers, supervisors and assistants before you. So you can hardly blame yourself when you start to feel nerves gathering in your chest, despite how well-respected he is amongst the workforce.
His eyes finally find yours and he clarifies your name. You can appreciate that he’s at least taken the time to learn your face. “You're Jackson’s intern, right?”
Wow. He knows you more than you thought. “Yes sir. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, thank you. I was just coming to take a look around. I’m normally part of organising the celebrations but this year I’ve been too busy.” He wordlessly waves a hand before weaving in and out the tables, reading each name tag as he passes by. You watch nervously as he inspects the room until finding himself in front of what you call The Shrine with folded arms, almost bursting at the seams. More simply, it’s a collage of photos of Taylor taken over the years pieced together in a mosaic standing on an easel, gathered and no less arranged by you, of course. Next to it stands an empty corkboard, waiting to be filled with pictures from tonight's celebration, provided by the pop-up photobooth beside it.
“Whose idea was this?” There’s a warm smile on Mr Holland’s face.
“Mine, sir.”
“And the handcrafted name tags?”
“Also me, sir.”
“I love it. It’s very creative.” You exhale loudly, relieved. The people-pleaser inside you starts to buzz, fluttering wildly at Mr Holland’s praise. “Did you…” His eyes squint narrowly, honing in on you. “Did you organise all of this?”
“Yes, I did. The venue and catering took some negotiating but once that was planned, the rest came with time.”
“Impressive.”
You’re about to thank him but you're interrupted by the obnoxious calling of your name in a voice that booms from the entrance of the hall. Jackson marches towards you and you stand a little straighter. He doesn’t notice Mr Holland standing in the corner of the room next to the shrine. Instead of Mr Holland announcing himself, which is what you expected him to do, he sinks his hands into his pockets and quietly observes from afar.
“I need a rundown--” Please, that would be great. “--and for the love of God where is the present I was supposed to get Taylor?” Thanks for getting me a present for him, I’ll pay you back.
Your answer is succinct and to the point. “I’ve left it in your hotel room; it’s a dinner reservation at Keens Steakhouse in New York. As for tonight, the bar will be open for guests when they arrive at 6:30pm, Taylor will arrive between 7:00pm and 7:15pm for his surprise, the buffet will open at 7:30pm and cake will be served at 8:30pm. Last orders are at 11:30pm and the curfew is midnight. Everyone has checked in and has their hotel room key, although Kelsey couldn’t make it tonight, so her room is spare.”
Jackson gives a gruff nod, mumbling something intelligible under his breath. He cautiously looks to the bar, then narrows his eyes at you with a pointed finger wavering in your face. “I need tonight to be perfect so I need you to be sober. No alcohol. Got it?” In other words, I can’t be bothered making sure everything goes smoothly so I need you to stay sober while I get shit-faced. You nod, pursing your lips angrily as he walks away from you without a final word.
With Jackson no longer in sight, the tension finally deflates and your shoulders relax. You hate that every interaction with Jackson is a test of your skill and knowledge, caught in a vicious cycle of having to prove yourself worthy time and time again.
As Mr Holland emerges from the corner of the room, it’s an observation he also confronts having finally witnessed Jackson’s true authoritarian nature. His eyes are fixated on the golden doors in a stare so firm it could burn holes through the metal, and just when he steps into the brighter lights of the bar, his overall demeanour changes.
His jaw ticks when he finally faces you. “Jackson’s keeping you on your toes tonight it seems.”
“He always does, sir.” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, recounting the numerous occasions his brutal demands have worked you to the bone.
“I don’t think I appreciate the way he talks to you.”
“Oh I’m used to it by now.”
“So he talks to you like that all the time?” Shit. In truth, Jackson would never have spoken so harshly to you had he known anyone was in the room let alone Mr Holland, but that was his mistake. One you’re not sorry for. “Well, if he isn’t going to tell you what an amazing job you have done, I will. You should be proud of organising all of this by yourself, it’s not easy. Well done.”
Your chest swells with pride as Mr Holland pats a gentle hand against your upper arm. Finally, your first taste of positive reinforcement. “Thank you, sir.”
Mr Holland’s smirk quirks at the edges. His hands find themselves deep within his pockets once again as he coolly and oh-so-calmly exits through the doors.
~~~~
You are insomnia personified. As relieved as you are that the night is going exactly to plan, with the nervous anticipation over, you just cannot wait to get to your bed knowing that the stress is over. You have hours of sleep to catch up on, a stone of weight to put back on and friends and family to respond to, and without a single alcoholic drink to lift your spirits, you’re finding it harder and harder to keep the exhaustion at bay. Beyond the exhaustion, however, there’s a sadness hidden deep within your conscience and while you glance over the decorations you hung up as the melodic singing of ‘happy birthday’ rings in the air, it spreads. It’s clear that people are oblivious to what makes you so downcast on a celebratory night as they pass nothing more than a glance your way, but in all honesty, you much prefer it to be that way. You wouldn’t want anyone to see the tear building in the corner of your eye.
For now, you thrive on the compliments you’ve heard about the venue, the decorations, the drinks and the food, each and every one of them satisfying your perfectionist mindset. Okay, so what no-one knows you organised the party, and sure, you can oversee the fact that none of the compliments are directed to you in particular, because in the end, you’ve gained Mr Holland’s approval and that’s enough for you.
Well, it was enough until Taylor took to the stage for a speech.
“...and a special shout-out to Jackson for putting this all together for me. This is absolutely amazing, I couldn’t have asked for more.”
Your heart sinks in your chest and your ears instinctively drown out the clapping and cheering of the crowd around you, eyes set in stone as they watch Jackson accept the dedication so graciously that it makes you sick to your stomach. It takes every ounce of energy you have left in you to suppress the wobble in your lip at the sight of Jackson soaking up the glory like a sponge. Jackson taking the credit for your hard work was something you should’ve expected from him. After all, he is lazy and will never be willing to admit it, definitely not in front of Taylor. Still, the chase for recognition was always going to be a losing battle for you; you’re an intern for fuck’s sake, you are merely just a name and a face for most, unfulfiling of the protagonistic arc the people here want in their stories. Jackson, the kiss ass, makes much more sense being the hero than an underdog intern.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath, accepting defeat.
You claim an empty seat at an empty table in a dark corner of the room, far from the crowd mingling on the dance floor and you remain there as the party continues into the night. The glass of tepid water looks pitiful in your hands, its lack of taste offering no respite from your sorrow.
With fifteen minutes until last orders, you begin counting down to the moment you can retire to your bed which you know won’t arrive until after you’ve cleaned up the hall. You’re jealous of some of the guests who have already decided to leave the party.
The chair to your right suddenly scrapes across the floor and you’re slightly taken aback when Mr Holland sits close beside you and abruptly rests an elbow upon the table, blocking your view of the crowd and demanding your attention. A cedarwood scent silently announces itself and you inhale it deeply, finding sanctuary in its presence despite how startled you are by it. Your breath is simply taken from you when he shuffles himself closer. He isn’t wearing his usual attire; something a little less formal, but likely to be just as expensive. With that expensive taste comes his expensive appearance: clean, styled, decorated admirably and booming with authority. A warmth starts to take a hold of you.
His movements are harsh and his body moves with brute intention, but behind those curls, his eyes hold sympathy, knowing what is upsetting you before it even spills from your lips. You try to fake a smile but he can see right through it.
“I thought it was you that organised the party,” he calmly states.
“I did. But because Jackson instructed me to plan a party means he takes responsibility for it.”
Mr Holland doesn’t waste a single second. “It isn’t right. It’s one thing to speak to you so rudely, but it’s another to take credit for your hard work, and I’m starting to believe that Jackson doesn’t value you as an intern as much as he values the superiority that comes with it, am I right?”
Anxiously, your eyes catch Jackson lazily hanging over the bar and demanding another drink. If Mr Holland were to know the truth, it would get Jackson in a lot of trouble and the people-pleaser inside you is screaming at you to just deny it all. Your skewed perception of professionalism means skipping over these things, something about snitching just seems so petty and childish, and that’s not the impression you want to give Mr Holland of all people.
Mr Holland’s stern voice brings you back. “You’re not answering to him now, you’re answering to me. Am. I. Right?”
You gulp. “Yes, sir.”
“I intend to have a word with Jackson--”
“Mr Holland, it’s okay, really--” You try to protest but he quickly rests his hand on top of yours, his warmth enveloping it completely, and your mind halts. Your heart flutters the moment his fingers curl just the little bit tighter, a compassion that says more than words could. It’s genuine, caring, but firm in a way that’s supportive, pledging to do right by you.
“He will apologise to you and let everyone know the truth.”
“Please, I don’t want to cause a hassle or stir anything in the office, I just want to do well. And what would it change if people knew the truth? It doesn’t bother me that much, honestly. Besides, you know the truth. That’s all that matters to me.” Desperately and without thinking, you twist your hand and your fingers interlock, returning the squeeze with a soft smile. Mr Holland tries his best to return the sentiment but you can tell the whole ordeal still troubles him and sits discontented by your side, a regretful sigh heaving through his lips. Soon, after a silent plea to let it go, he eventually sits level with you with a brighter sparkle to his eyes and instantly, the mood is lifted. You notice how his hand doesn’t leave yours.
“You at least deserve a drink.”
“I shouldn’t, I’m closing up tonight and I’m working early tomorrow.”
He scowls for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, facing issue after issue the more you expose Jackson’s true nature. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, you should be having a day off.”
“It’s laughable you think I get a day off,” you chuckle. The sad thing is, he thinks you’re joking. Jackson often sends you his overdraft of reports to complete over the weekend and has the cheek to deem you lucky that he gives you so much wisdom and experience. You can’t imagine Mr Holland being aware of this…
“Don’t be silly darling, everyone is entitled to days off. Even Taylor took a day off today for his birthday.”
Again, your scathing laughter meets his ears and he tilts his head, that skewed eyebrow lifting high into his forehead. “No offence sir, but with his position, he can afford to. I don’t think interns have that same benefit--”
“Of course you do, it’s company policy that everyone is entitled to a day off on their birthday.” Before you get a word in, he’s already pulling out his phone from his suit pocket. “Tell me when your birthday is so I can make sure you get it off, and I know when to get you a birthday present. Taylor too--”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”
“We do it for all our employees, regardless if you’re an intern or not.” His calendar flashes to life before his eyes. “So when is it? June? July?”
Your mouth suddenly goes dry and it gawps like a fish, not a usual response to such an easy question. Your fingers knead together on your lap as the sadness once again materialises and Mr Holland quickly senses something is amiss.
“It’s…it’s today. My birthday is…was today.”
Mr Holland’s eyes widen with horror. It’s no less than a minute later that he finally replies. “And Jackson has you working?”
“Since 7am this morning. I had asked for my birthday off two months ago because I did actually read the company policies, but he said interns can’t request holidays because they’re not permanent. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“What?! For fuck’s sake…” Mr Holland twists his chair violently, its legs colliding with the table as he tries to face you more directly and leans forward, your knees slotting into the space between his. The wave of his anger has rolled back even higher in its tide and now, unlike before, there’s a vein popping at his temple. “Let me just make this clear, okay? Correct me if I’m wrong. You’re telling me that Jackson has knowingly denied you of your birthday holiday entitlement and instead had you plan someone else’s birthday just so that he can take credit for it, make you work through it and clean up after it as well?”
God. In his words it sounds so desperately sad. Up until this point, you were able to distract yourself from getting caught up in the tragedy of it all, but now there’s nothing stopping the gates from opening and wallowing in self-pity. Although your blurring eyes tell of your true emotions, the forced smile on your lips does everything it can to convince both you and Mr Holland that you’re not bothered by it. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Mr Holland’s heart inevitably sinks. In that moment, he thinks of the cruelty behind Jackson ordering you to buy and wrap his present for Taylor when you have none to open. He thinks of you, alone, buying the candles of the birthday cake you wouldn’t be blowing out. He thinks of you, just hours ago as the crowd sings happy birthday to another person, blissfully ignorant of your sorrow. He thinks of the hours you spent working when you should have been with your friends and family. It’s all of the things you truly deserve, but have been robbed from you.
He reaches once again for your hand, now resting on your lap, and the tips of his fingers graze your thigh. You would be a fool to miss it. “Darling,” he sincerely murmurs, almost as quiet as a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
The fake smile takes lead and the rebel tear is wiped away. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault--”
“But it’s not okay. You…you didn’t even get to have a drink.” Damnit, your cheeks are wet again. “Did you at least get a break today?” Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO.
In fact, you spend so much time failing to not cry that Mr Holland assumes the worst. He takes in a long, deep breath and lures you into his embrace with a hand creeping up to the back of your head, and the second your forehead hits his shoulder, the dams break.
“I’m just so tired,” you sniff.
“You’ve been overworked, darling, that’s why.” His hand passes over your hair, gently cupping the curve of your head as he takes in every hiccup. His breath flows past your ears smoothly, broken up every few seconds with whispers of comfort. You feel horribly embarrassed, crying into the expensive suit of your CEO at the party you organised on your birthday: definitely not the definition of professionalism you are chasing.
“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this.” You retreat from his shoulder but the hand cupping the back of your head prevents you from travelling too far and you’re stuck, just inches from Mr Holland’s pitying eyes. He keeps you concealed from the crowd, but it’s not enough to hide from the burning glare of Jackson, his eyes drawing daggers at you from over Mr Holland’s shoulder. He’s somewhat frozen in a stupor, scarily steady for a man who was flailing over the bar minutes ago, but anger is a quick cure for intoxication.
Mr Holland’s voice sidles quietly into your ear. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Get yourself up to bed, I’ll deal with Jackson.”
“But--”
“I will not take no for an answer. Now go.” You shiver at the stern tone, appearing only as he turns to lock eyes with Jackson who’s faring a guilty look upon his face. As Mr Holland brings you both to a stand, he gently encourages you towards the golden doors and although you should be indulging in the relief of finally being let off, you can’t pull your focus away from Mr Holland’s cold stare that refuses to stray from Jackson. In the few seconds that it takes to walk from your chair to the doors, a clear, obvious shift in mood transpires, one that is felt by the entire room because now it isn’t just you that notices Mr Holland’s sudden decline in temperament. Evidently, everyone is quick to sense the tension. The crowd’s lively dancing now settles into an awkward shuffle and the singing dulls into hushed whispers because they know to never underestimate the seriousness of Mr Holland’s anger. It’s uncomfortable and intimidating, even more so if you’re the reason for his vexation and if that’s the case, you should be on your knees begging for his forgiveness. It’s the one power Mr Holland holds that Taylor, his business partner, his equal, doesn't possess. This is your first time seeing him exercise this power and it’s incredibly daunting.
The beat of your heels clicking their way up the staircase is a quick one, not daring to hang around the unease any longer. The fresh smell of washed cotton that greets you in your room winds you down and you don’t spare a second of reflection before you strip yourself of your stiff dress, blister-inducing heels, thick make-up and the heavy stress. You slip right between the sheets, ready to drift asleep.
The lights are switched off, your eyes are closed and your body properly relaxes. Yet inexplicably you can’t settle into your bed no matter how much you toss and turn. Rationale convinces you that it’s because you’re in a bed different from your own, that the mattress doesn’t have the mould of your body imprinted on it, and although it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, your inner conscience is telling you something else…
Flashes of memories made just half an hour prior spring to the surface and suddenly you’re watching yourself converse with Mr Holland again. But it isn’t exactly how you remember it.
For example, his hand is on your lap, gripping the curve of your thigh with his heat scorching through your skin when you know that, in reality, it was nothing more than a soft sweep. And when you both stood, you know he guided you with a gentlemanly hand, yet your dream sees his hand curving down the slope of your ass and squeezing the flesh. You have to refuse the idea of you shivering with arousal from hearing Mr Holland’s stern growl because truthfully, it was nerves.
Or…was it both?
You try to ignore it, but the seed has already been planted. Now all you can visualise is his fleeting touches, his soft voice praising you and calling you darling, the twinkle in his eyes as he sympathised for you, the caress of his hand through your hair as he comforted you, the way he cared for you, and fucking hell, the exhilaration of seeing him protect you so defensively when no one else did. His taut jaw, his clenched fists, his dark eyes, the pulsing vein at his temple, his eminence that commanded the room, the list is endless.
“F-fuck,” you stutter, succumbing to the pleasure of your own fingers toying with your clit. You don’t quite remember the exact moment your hand slipped beneath your underwear, too caught up in your fantasy of Mr Holland to realise. Regardless, the movie in your mind continues to play out and by now, none of it reflects any real events from tonight - it’s all purely fictional.
His hand slides up between your thighs. He dons a devilish grin because he knows there’s a whole crowd blissfully unaware behind him. An innocent gasp slips from your lips and it lures his eyes to your mouth, panting as he traces the letters of his name over your covered cunt as a sign as to who it belongs to. Overrun with anticipation, you bite your lip, feeling the pad of his finger slip beneath your thong and…
“Oh my god! Shit!” Your body seizes, curling into itself as your fingers dull to a small twitch between your clenched thighs. There’s a blissful moment where you ravish the hot rush of blood pulsing at your pussy, letting it bubble until it slows to a simmer, and only when you come down from your high minutes later do you fully realise what has just happened. Eyes split wide open, you rise from your bed.
You just masturbated fantasising over your CEO.
What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?
~~~~
The morning comes surprisingly quickly and the hotel's thin curtains don't fully shield you from the sun's glare. It’s bright, directly in your face and if you didn’t know any better, you would think that it’s spotlighting you because it knows what you did last night. As if you forgot…
The guilt still ruins your conscience and you feel nothing but regret; fantasising and sexualising Mr Holland’s kindness is just the pinnacle of everything you disagree with and it doesn’t exactly define the sort of professionalism you strive for.
Shaking it off as best you can, you refresh yourself with a shower and a harsh splash of cold water to your face, and by the time you open your laptop it’s 9am. There hasn’t been any emails from Jackson so far which you’re not too sure if you’re shocked by. It’s typical on a Saturday morning for Jackson to send you multiple reports with deliberately vague instructions that you would somehow have to decode and translate for yourself. But regarding last night’s events, perhaps he’s heeded Mr Holland’s words and decided to honour your weekend entitlements.
The white screen stares back at you, watching you nervously bite your nails as if you’re expecting a red notification to pop up, attached to an email from Jackson with hungover words. A minute or two passes by and alas, nothing. Not a word. In all honesty, you don’t have an issue with it, not at all, but it means that your routine is completely disrupted and you’re struggling to decide what to do with yourself. And without work, you have nothing to distract you from last night’s sin while it plagues your mind.
A new sweat arises and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, and that’s the part you think is the worst. Why did it feel so fucking good?
What brings you out of your self-loathing is three quick, quiet knocks echoing from your door in quick succession. Curious, you open the door and when you see who stands there in all his formal glory, you wish you hadn’t. Your heart immediately jumps to your mouth.
“Oh, Mr Holland--hi. I wasn’t expecting you…” Your words fade into a soft whisper when your eyes spot a small pink bag, its ribbon handles hooked daintily onto his fingers. Surely that can’t be what you think it is…?
He’s painfully quiet, a small smile painting his lips at what he sees; he’s never seen you dress so casually before and he wants to take a good long look at you, unsure of when he’ll see such a sight again. The weight of his stare burns holes through you, heating you from within.
Not a second later, he holds out the pink bag towards you and you forget to breathe.
“Happy belated birthday,” he gently voices. Your fingertips graze each other as you take it from him. For such a small, delicate bag, it’s certainly weighty and your stomach drops thinking about how much money he’s stupidly wasted on you…
“Thank you sir, really. You didn’t have to do that.” A nervous chuckle escapes your dry mouth. “How…how did you get this so quickly? It’s barely past 9 in the morning.”
“I have a few contacts who owe me a few favours. And I just felt so guilty about you missing your birthday. Sorry you couldn’t celebrate it like you should’ve.”
“Like I said, it’s okay--”
He shakes his head disapprovingly but surely, a taunting smirk begins to form. “Am I going to have to give you the same ‘talking to’ I gave Jackson last night to make you realise that it is definitely not okay?”
Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes. “No, no, of course not. Sorry, I suppose that’s just the people-pleaser in me.”
Mr Holland stands stoic before you, his head slightly tilted and his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes are watching you endearingly, drawing you into him, but everything else about him oozes something that makes you want to swallow a little harder. His confidence in himself is mildly intimidating and you wish you could feel the same. Just his being here creates a dizzying effect on you that you just can’t shake.
“You can think of this as a congratulations of sorts too.”
You tilt your head. “Congratulations?”
“Mh-hm,” his eyes flit over your confusion, a devilish, haunting smirk gracing his wet lips. “Congratulations on becoming a permanent member of Taylor and I’s company.”
Mr Holland admiring you be damned, you find yourself taking a step back in shock. “Are you…are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious, do you think I would lie to you?”
“Not at all, I just, I thought it was going to be Jackson’s decision. I am his intern.”
You aren’t a fool to miss the way his jaw ticks at the mention of Jackson’s name and all too quickly, a ferocious fire consumes his eyes. A small shiver cuts through your skin. “You don’t work for Jackson anymore because Jackson no longer works for me.”
“What?!”
“What did you think when I said I was going to deal with Jackson? That he was going to continue working for me even after finding out he was treating you badly? Or finding out that he orders you to do his work over the weekends? Or even when he blackmails you into doing jobs beyond your remit? How could you possibly think that I would let that sleazy bastard feed off my pay when I know he isn’t capable of the job? You’re far more deserving of the position than he is, far more deserving of the appreciation and beyond capable.”
“Sir, I…I can’t thank you enough. I’m very grateful. I won’t let you down, I promise.”
“I know you won’t. Although I do sometimes wish you would’ve told me or Taylor about Jackson’s behaviour sooner. I don’t tolerate that kind of exploitation, not even for a second and you shouldn’t have either.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in wanting to do well that I would’ve done anything to please the company.”
“Maybe you should stop spending your time trying to please other people, and focus on pleasing yourself.” His face gravitates just a hairsbreadth towards yours and in quieter, darker words, he whispers… “You were certainly capable of pleasing yourself last night.”
You take a timid step back, mouth agape. You can’t think of anything to say, not when the ringing in your ears starts to resonate louder and louder. Shame swells like a disease and you can feel the bile rising in your throat. You are almost certain you didn’t hear anyone outside your room last night, how could he have possibly known?
“I…um…I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
He smoothly leans against the door frame, his wicked grin tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say. Nevertheless, he explains, not to worsen how mortified he knows you already feel, but to reminisce of the surge of adrenaline and lust that coursed through him last night.
“I came by late last night to drop off your present. I didn’t think you would still be awake so I planned on leaving it at your door, and just as I bent down to place it there, I heard just the softest of moans—“
“I think you must be mistaken—“ An uneasy chuckle barely covers your tracks, leaving you just as compromised as before.
“I thought you might’ve been with someone, but I then didn’t hear any other voices, so I assumed you were by yourself.”
“Sir,” you squeak, intending to finish your sentence but you just don’t have the words nor the confidence to deny him of what he already knows. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, exposed and vulnerable without the faintest idea of how to get yourself out of his commanding presence.
A million and one emotions rage through you and drown you in a fluster. Your feet shuffle nervously beneath you, slowly inching your way back into your hotel room as you sense yourself losing control over the conversation. With a mouth drier than the Sahara desert, there’s not much else you can do or say to avoid falling victim to both Mr Holland’s taunting and your own taunting; last night’s images playing out before you more vividly now that he resurrects them.
The subject finally diverges, but it doesn’t mean you're any more comfortable with it. “Do you know you’re the only one that addresses me as ‘sir’?”
You shake your head, eyes inevitably averted. You didn’t know that, you just thought it was professional.
“You never corrected me.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“I liked hearing it. Just as much as I liked what I heard last night. But I need to know,” he takes a step to cross the threshold of your hotel room. “Was there anything…anyone in particular crossing your mind?”
“There was…” His jaw ticks furiously and you instantly get the notion that denying him is simply not a choice here.
“Who?” He demands in that stern voice you’ve heard only once before.
One word sits on your tongue and you know that as soon as it breaks the silence, the professionalism you worked so hard to build up will crumble before you. But the risk is entirely worth it.
“You.”
Mr Holland’s lips part and releases a snicker as if he knew, and the curl of his smirk becomes dangerous. He lets the singular word ring out into the air, and the tension envelopes you both in a suffocating bubble until he finally speaks. “You…what?”
“You, sir.”
His chest rumbles with approval and you even feel its vibrations fluttering low in your stomach. Desire consumes you; a desire to know what he’s thinking, to know what he’s planning to do with that compromising information, to figure out whether he’ll respond to it in a way that satiates your more promiscuous desires like the ones that distracted you last night. You would give anything to see what’s going on inside his head.
Inexplicably, he nods towards your pink bag, easily brushing over your last conversation like it was nothing to him and it completely throws you off. “You should open it.”
It takes a second to drag your eyes away from him. You actually forgot you’re still holding it in your hands. The tissue paper rustles loudly as you reach in-- “Inside.” Mr Holland urges. With a short nod, you lead the way, allowing him to slowly close the door behind you with a gut-wrenching squeak and a thunderous boom.
The second the door shuts, the air becomes taut, strained and harder to breathe and you dedicate all your efforts into ignoring your last conversation just as easily as he had, but he’s standing right behind you and the warmth of his breath skates past your ear and it’s all you can think about. Even without disclosing what he now knows, the presence of Mr Holland alone would bring about such unnerving effects, so you don’t find yourself at fault for struggling to keep it together.
From the pink bag you pull out a small white and gold box, wrapped with yet another ribbon. Inside is a silver chain, light and dainty, but the pendant it carries is nothing alike. The reflection of the sun hits the circular-cut diamond, becoming iridescent as it hits your eyes. The stone is slightly on the larger side, bigger than any other necklace you own, but it sits perfectly in the balance of being flashy yet classy. Expensive yet tasteful. It’s a piece that you can’t price and that exact thought scares you.
“It’s beautiful,” you softly murmur. The chain cascades elegantly across your fingers, almost mesmerising to watch.
Your eyes catch his movement in the mirror in front of you and steals your attention away from the necklace. He holds out his hand by your side, soft but firm.
“May I?” You almost flinch as his words hit your ear, the ripple of your shiver continues for long after. As the chain pools in his hand, he is equally gentle, handling it with expertise while he lifts it carefully over head and rests the pendant tenderly in the dip between your clavicles. Its icy cold touch seers your skin, heat radiating with each grazing touch of his fingers as they clasp the chain together behind your neck. Once secure, you admire the way it shines brightly against your skin tone, eyes momentarily lost in your image until you realise that yours are the only pair looking back at you. Mr Holland remains engrossed with the curve of your neck, his proximity close enough to be counting the beats of your pulse as it thumps beneath your skin and for all you know, it’s elevating, thrashing harder and harder while you watch with wide eyes as Mr Holland presses his lips against it.
The second his lips meet your skin, his hands find your hips, holding you steady to prevent you from buckling. A numbing tingle shoots through your nervous system at the feeling of Mr Holland swiping his tongue across the reddening bruise he’s leaving behind. Every kiss is with purpose, targeting each and every sweet spot as if he had a map to each of their location: the peak of your neck that connects to your jaw, the sensitive spot just millimetres below your ear, the slight curve of your shoulder that sits beneath the chain. He instantly claims you, and you show no sign of resistance when you find yourself voluntarily tilting your neck, begging for more.
You finally meet his eyes in the mirror, realising how cavernous his blown-out pupils are; that if you search too far you’ll become trapped. “This…” he whispers, planting another kiss to your ear, his hands beckoning to the chain, “is the only thing I’ll allow you to wear while I fuck you.”
A shameless, breathless mewl whines from your throat and a rampage of endorphins consumes you. As the first piece of insight to his mind, you don’t get nearly enough time to let it process in your head before his clawing hands are tugging at the drawstrings of your joggers.
The small nip to your neck is a wake-up call. This is real and this isn’t a fantasy of yours, only that it will be a recreation of what had you orgasming last night.
“You know, I can be a people pleaser too.” His hand slips beneath your joggers, but refrains from slipping beneath your underwear. “I can please you in so many ways.” As a testimony to his words, his fingers trace over the silk of your underwear, catching your bud in its travels and a silent gasp bursts from your lips. “But not without earning it. Do as you’re told, and I’ll do exactly that.”
Your head falls back onto his shoulder, words vacant, eyes rolling.
“Are you listening to me?” The hand on your hip squeezes harshly and you jerk in his arms. You have never agreed to something quicker in your life.
“Yes, sir! Oh—”
“Good. Then you can start by closing those curtains over there.”
His hand slips fluidly out of your joggers when you force yourself away from the subtle torment. The light dims a little, however you think it’s more for privacy than for light. When your back turns once again, Mr Holland sits himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread and leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Whatever it is about him in that single second triggers something in you; attraction, lust, sex appeal, or all of the above. Whatever it is, it compels you to give yourself in to him.
A messy mixture of want, need and unrelenting desire brings you to your knees before him. His eyes sweep over your face, examining, analysing, translating every desperate twitch. He can even see your lips parting where he spots the remnants of teeth marks from when you had nervously bitten them in hidden moments. Smoothly, the pad of his thumb brushes over your lip, tugging it into a pout because that’s what he wants to see; you, desperate, pouting, begging for him. It soon pops back into place, his hand now curling around your chin and pulling you closer. His own lips are nothing more than a breath away from yours and you think he’s going to finally kiss you, but annoyingly, he only allows you to feel the shape of the words as he whispers them to you.
“So what is it about me then, hm? What do I do that turns you on?”
“It’s…it’s stupid.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me rephrase.” The grip on your chin tightens and your noses collide. “Tell me what it is about me that turns you on.”
“Last night at the party, you were the only one that…cared. You made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.”
“What else?”
“You stood up to Jackson for me - you just looked so determined like you were unstoppable.”
He tilts his head in the other direction now, leaning in just as close, your breaths mingling together. You’re so desperate to feel his lips on yours. “And?”
“When…when you touched my thigh--”
“You were burning.”
“I was nervous--”
“Because of me.”
“Of course because of you. I was scared of disappointing you.”
A small snicker escapes him and leaves behind a wicked smirk. Two hands now firmly cradle your jawline and you think the moment has finally come. Why else would your heart be thumping in your chest?
“Not possible. I always knew you were a good girl. And I think you like being told that, don’t you? You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it. I saw that coy little look on your face the first time I told you how impressed I was. It was obvious that no one else had praised you like I did - you couldn’t keep yourself together. And I bet if I kept telling you how fucking sweet you are, and how much of an perfect angel I know you are for me, the second I slip my fingers into your tight little pussy, you’d be an absolute mess.”
Well, he’s not wrong. You’re already soaked.
“Please, sir,” you whimper. “Please just kiss me.”
Finally, finally, he pulls you in for a long, languid kiss, his tongue takes lead to taste every part of your bitten lips as they slot perfectly in between his, lingering longer with each time he captures them. The blood rushes so quickly through your veins you think you might implode, overwhelmed by just how good it feels that your hands suddenly grapple onto the cuffs of his shirt.
A satisfied hum buzzes against your lips, twisting your own into a small grin that unbeknown to you, Mr Holland could actually feel.
“Let me see you,” he demands, his hands plucking at the hem of your sweatshirt. When you don’t do it right away, a tight grip coils around your neck and stops the gasp leaving your mouth. “Do. As. You’re. Told.”
You’re baring your all for him (all except a diamond necklace) in a matter of seconds, standing before him as he leisurely leans back against the bed, resting on his elbows. Those predatory eyes roam your body, mapping out the shape and details, and imprinting them to memory.
“So fucking pretty…” He deliberately watches for your reaction and you crumble under the praise resulting in a mirthful laughter to shake his chest. His arms reach for your waist, luring you in with the tight grab of your hips until his lips sit just below your ribs. The heat from his breath hitting your skin makes you involuntarily wriggle, but he doesn’t allow for any movement from you, not unless he permits it. You feel his lips suddenly, trailing across your ribs and up your chest. “Do you know what good girls like you do for me?”
“What?” You breathlessly murmur.
“They get on their knees,” Mr Holland pauses to let you act on it. Now you’re looking up at him as his knuckle ghosts over your cheeks and he mingles closer. “They look at me right in the eyes and they beg me to give them a taste, to let them suck me off because they’ll do anything for a reward, even if it is just a few words of praise. So let’s hear you, pretty girl. I want to hear you beg me with that sweet, innocent voice of yours.”
You take a cautious breath. “I want to taste you so badly, sir. Please. Will you let me?”
“Hmm.” He purses his lips. Shit. It isn’t good enough for him and he spots the panic in your eyes. All of a sudden, you begin pleading in such a desperate, childish tone you didn’t know you were capable of. Even your lip begins pouting as the need to please him becomes so overwhelming that, unexpectedly, your eyes water, like you’re facing life or death. And he is the decider.
“Wait, wait, no, please, I want to make you feel so good, so, so, so good. I can do it, I promise, and I can be good for you if you let me. Please sir, I really need it. I’ll do anything.”
Mr Holland smiles and gently kisses you with approval, just the shortest of pecks of reassurance before he leans back and nods towards the zipper of his suit trousers, tented with the erection that’s pleading to be satisfied. You waste no time in unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling free his hard cock that almost dwarfs your hand and you stare at him with such bewilderment, a stare that is returned by a certain smugness, a confidence that has you licking your lips.
There’s a surge of instinct coursing through you and your brain convinces you that there’s nothing else you should be doing, that your whole purpose at this very moment is to do as you promise; to please him, to make him feel good, so when you hear his moans the second you wrap your lips around him, your heart flutters with fulfilment. It’s a sensation you keep chasing, growing stronger the longer you bob your head up and down his cock, every time his praise seeps from his lips, and you just about lose it when his fingers comb through your hair. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. Not too little, not too much. Consistency is key.
You’re not sure how much of an idea he has about just how dedicated you are in your mission to prove yourself to him, that you’re desperate to show how capable you are by what you’re willing to do; perhaps a horrible side-effect of having to constantly prove yourself to Jackson with each conversation, but with Mr Holland, there’s an element of belief and confidence: a contradiction between Jackson’s ‘I don’t believe you until you prove it’ versus Mr Holland’s ‘do it because I know you can’.
Mr Holland’s head falls back, his eyes closed, and falls into an eerie silence. If it wasn’t for his hand still combing through your roots, you would’ve thought he wasn’t satisfied with you. Still, you keep going, running your lips and tongue down his shaft and returning slowly back up again where you get a teaser of the bitter-sweet taste you’re vying for. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re undecided of whether you’re doing so well that he’s speechless, or you’re not doing enough that’s worthy of his praise. It’s hard to tell with his head tilted back, and you begin to lose faith. You’ve become so drawn into his voice and words that you feel lost without them.
‘You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it.’
“Sir,” you meekly voice, leaving a beat to suck on the head of his cock. “Am I making you feel good?”
The depth of his growl sends a spike of arousal straight to your clit. He spits out his words in a manner that’s uncontrollable. “Fucking incredible.”
His head finally lifts and his eyes pin on you, fully blown and dilated. “Look at you - oh fuck - taking me so well. Knew you’d be a good girl but f-fuck, I don’t know if I can hold it in any longer.”
You reply with a wanton mewl, your dopey, tear-stained eyes saying the words your mouth can’t. You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto the carpet, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.
Mr Holland swings forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath. It's slightly tense and panic-inducing but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you have proved yourself.
“Fucking hell,” Mr Holland pants. His grip loosens around you and your lips release him with a pop. The instant your lips are free, he claims them, humming into them with adoration. “That was…” A soft, tender kiss. “The best goddamn…” Then another. “Blow job I’ve ever had.” He kisses you for a final time with a smile laced through it, and rests his forehead on yours to give himself some time to catch his breath. “So good…” he breathes. “So, so, so good. Sweet angel. My sweet angel.”
There isn’t anything to describe the burst of achievement that swarms your chest when you hear those words and your cheeks inevitably heat under his hands. You’re smiling, obviously smiling and no matter how hard you bite your lips to hide it, the pull is too strong. You make yourself far too goddamn easy to read so when Mr Holland catches a glimpse of your reaction, he smirks, clearly amused, and simultaneously reaches down the length of your body until his hand finds sanctum between your thighs.
“Hmm, you’re soaked, darling. Don’t you think we should do something about it? After all, you’re earned your reward, and I’m dying for a taste of that messy, little pussy of yours.”
You release a shaky breath when his fingers start exploring. “Yes, oh god, yes.”
“Yes…what?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Better. Let’s not make that mistake again.”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Now--” In a vice-like grip, Mr Holland encircles your waist and your body burns against the rough cashmere of his suit. It’s surprisingly stimulating as he casually hauls you off your feet, but you would much rather the heat of his skin. Nevertheless, your back soon meets the soft cotton of your sheets as he lays you to rest on the bed, remaining shadowing above you basking in the sight of your naked, wanting body. The diamond that nestles deep into the base of your throat twinkles obnoxiously in his eyes and he almost grows jealous of the way it hugs your neck. However, it's a jealousy he can overlook as his eyes wander over the peak of your breasts and your glistening cunt, because he knows that they are all for him.
Mr Holland promptly sinks to his knees, placing his head in between your thighs, his eyes never straying from your cunt. There isn’t a moment of hesitation when he swings his arms to cross over your hips, dragging your legs effortlessly over his shoulders and diving, tongue first, into your cunt. It’s a complete invasion of his touch, his tongue immediately swirling around your clit with a careful, consistent pressure that deep down, you know will end you in minutes. The gasp is telling of your struggle to keep composed, gradually crescendoing into a moan as that amorous tongue descends down your slit, licking you up in long, fat strips. An urge in your hips begs for attention, wanting to raise higher to ease the tension building deep in your stomach, but you're trapped, locked in place with no routes of escape and you have to tell yourself that you just have to tough it out.
But it’s harder said than done when he begins slotting his tongue into your hole, tasting and caressing every inch of you he’s capable of reaching. Digging deeper and deeper, his mouth consumes the entirety of your cunt, humming into it to push you further over the edge. He knows you’re hanging on by a thread, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to slow down. And just then, an evil, malicious thought spawns in his mind which he voices immediately.
“You’re not cumming until I say so. Understood?”
The feeling of you clenching to stop the impending orgasm has him chuckling. He knew you were close.
“Such a sweet, little angel. So obedient too, right?” He blows a gentle breeze onto your clit and you simply whimper in response. “Right?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Satisfied, Mr Holland has your cunt in his mouth again, salivating over its taste as he suckles on your clit, your folds, your skin, anything to lure out what he knows he’s going to get eventually, but it makes it twice as appetising when he knows your orgasm is only at his command.
Meanwhile, your heart stammers in your chest with each tug of his lips. Whatever sanity you have left to cling onto, you claw at it with desperate hands, fighting to hold up the wall that blocks the blood rushing to your cunt, holding your breath to stop the bubble from bursting, because fuck, you are ready to snap. You can’t help but notice how he’s taken a page from your book, pleasuring you at a steady consistent pace, not too much but not too little. Unsurprisingly, the result is the same but the conditions are far worse.
“Oh my god, please let me cum, I can’t hold it anymore.”
His grip only tightens, his tongue moves faster and his mouth gets hotter.
Your hands, of a mind of their own, decide to condemn your obedience and push at his arms around your hips in an attempt to get away. Despite his obvious strength, you somehow manage to get a microsecond of respite, but his mouth only sucks you back in again, murmuring only one word that runs laps around your head.
“Obedience.”
“I can’t, sir, please, I can’t h-hold on. Fuck!”
“Oh dear.”
“NO! No, no, no, no, okay, okay, I’ll do it, I can hold on. Just…please go slower.”
His dark cavernous eyes meet yours from behind his arms, unmoving even as he relishes the taste of your slick, challenging you for only a second before he thankfully listens to your wishes. Weakened, your head flops back onto the bed with a small bounce, eyes drifting shut as the feeling in your stomach calms and a small relief hugs your heart. It’s a small price to pay to lose the feeling of euphoria that was going to course through you…only if Mr Holland had let it or if your people-pleasing traits had failed you, none of which had actually happened.
The feeling deflates but the pleasure still lingers.
“You taste so delicious, darling. I could eat you all day.” Arousal jumps to your clit like a flash of electricity. “And you’re doing so well for me, how could I ever stop?” This time, it’s his tongue, soft and caressing. “And this pussy; so pretty, so fucking pretty, I could just play with it for days.” His finger begins circling your clit not too long after he spits into it. By now, you realise what he’s doing. He’s feeding into your need for praise that, along with the small touches and sweeping licks, builds you up just as quickly and suddenly as before, and once again you’re struggling to cope. “I know you can be such a good girl for me, I know you can do as I say, and you have no idea how much it turns me on when you do.”
“Sir…” You warn. He instantly recognises the desperation.
“I’ve got one last instruction for you, angel.” He sucks on your clit for just a couple of seconds, just to get you closer and closer to falling apart. “Cum for me. Cum in my mouth.”
“Fuck!” You scream as an endless stream of euphoria consumes you, hitting you in a sudden white wash of heat that riddles your entire body top to toe. You can feel your cunt clenching erratically, between homing an orgasm and suffering under Mr Holland's continuous lashings, it can't, not for one second, rest until either relent. You feel your own slick, hot and bothered, trickling down your ass but before it gets the chance to meet with the white sheets beneath you, Mr Holland sweeps it up expertly with his tongue, partnered with a primal growl of pleasure.
By the time Mr Holland has finished cleaning up every inch of your cunt and ass with his tongue, he proceeds to kiss his way gently up your body, not forgetting to leave your tits untouched and pinches your buds between his lips. You have just enough energy to cradle his head, allowing yourself the pleasure to run your fingers through his hair, moving with him while he leaves sharp kisses to your chest, your collar bone, your neck, ear and jaw, until once again, those hungry lips claim yours.
Still somewhat recovering, you purr quietly, content with the overall sense of pleasure, both of your sexual and people-pleasing needs.
Your lips slowly part. The kiss ceases but your noses brush off one another gently, still basking in the blissful, intimate aftermath of what's just happened. Your CEO above you remains, hovering over you with admiration in his eyes, running over your features as if it is the first time he's seeing them, adoring them all over again.
There's two words sitting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind a smirk because he knows what he'll see when he speaks them.
"You're beautiful."
Of course, his prediction comes true. Your cheeks redden, your eyes roll away and your teeth sink into your swollen lips, muttering incoherently about it not being true but thanks him incessantly, but Mr Holland is too caught up in your coy modesty to rebuttal. It's just like the first time he complimented you, and he realises then and there that he's addicted to being the person that makes you shy, blushed, diffident.
Being a CEO, he does indeed posses significant power in the palm of his hand, obtained by hard work, dedication, commitment and sacrifice, but for him, there isn't a power stronger than the one he has over you and all it takes is a few, simple, praising words.
"We still have another three hours until check out."
Your eyes and ears perk up. "Sir?"
Cautiously, he shuffles above you, innocent until you feel his cock sliding into you and he relishes the catch in the back of your throat at the sudden pressure forcing its way fluidly into you. You're simply speechless, questioning if it'll ever end as he pushes every inch of him inside you, breaching and stretching the boundaries of your walls. Mr Holland snags your bottom lip between his teeth, harshly biting as a relief for the tight grip that surrounds his cock.
When your ass eventually meet his hips, you both release a groan in unison, breaths mixing and mingling until Mr Holland breaks the silence.
"You're gonna look even more beautiful when you're all fucked out and dumb for my cock, all with a diamond wrapped round your neck."
His hips snap back at a frighteningly fast pace and thrusts in even more aggressively. The pain is immeasurably exhilarating. Your thighs squeeze his waist, mouth agape without a single breath escaping.
"Think of this as a second birthday gift." Like before, he draws back and slams into you without mercy. "Do as you're told and you'll get your third on Monday in my office."
Somehow, your gut tells you that you won't have a problem with that. Not at all.
#dom!tom holland#ceo!tom holland#soft!dom!tom holland#sub!reader#tom holland smut#tom holland#tom holland fic#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#smut#angst#peter parker smut#one shot#peter parker#tom holland one shot#tom holland fanfic#praise you like i should
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glory girl
warnings: no plot smut; praise kink, dirty talking, some edging/orgasm denial, and unprotected sex. ends in fluff :)
note: this is a blurb. i should be working on other fics, but i’m a little too obsessed with tom right now, so i needed to write something hot now!! BYE
soft dom!tom
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tom’s lips brush the skin of your neck, soft and gentle like you were delicate. he flicks his hips deliberately slow, so you could feel each deep thrust thoroughly. you felt the ridges of veins along his cock rubbing against your walls blissfully. it was sensual and sweet, yet so, so dirty.
your neck strains from being tense, while you bite your lip to remain quiet. you were shy, even if you and tom lived alone and you knew no one else was listening.
“don’t get shy on me now,” tom whispers in your ear with a small pant. in a plank position, his muscular arms flexed with intensity each time he moved. he brushes a strand of hair from your perspired face to see you. “wanna hear those pretty noises.”
you whimpered, legs trembling as tom rocked back and forth into your soaking cunt. gushes of your wetness leaked around his cock, making him twitch and pulse inside of you; that picture alone could get him off. with you nearly withering underneath him, you were the most precious thing tom’s ever seen. your hair was fanned beautifully across your pillow, your nipples were pointy and hard, and your face of desire spurred him on.
“so pretty, my love,” tom massages your breast with subtle pinches while you quietly yelp. you moan sweetly, his words adding even more pleasure. tom knew you loved being praised, being admired. at first, it felt embarrassing to share, but tom loved complimenting you already, so he was excited when he discovered you really liked it.
plus, tom would do anything to make his girl happy and satisfied.
“t-tom,” you pant, the words struggling to leave your scratchy throat. your hands trail up the length of his arm, squeezing his tensing bicep, until they become laced in his brown curls. his calloused fingers circle your throbbing clit, the roughness scratching each nerve explicitly. you curse to the ceiling, stomach tightening as you feel your orgasm near.
tom rams into you impossibly deeper, lifting your leg to reach a new angle. you gasp at the new feeling as your nails grip snuggly on his locks. you were so close, just a little more and you would melt into him.
“tom, can i come? please, please,” you plead with a familiar lustful haze blurring your vision. you couldn’t hear anything besides tom’s words.
“no, you’re gonna hold it. i know you can, baby,” tom encourages with a grunt, hissing as you squeeze around him dangerously snug. if you keep doing that, he would come on the spot. he’s trying to make this last, but it never gets easier with you. you were his biggest weakness, yet you gave him immense strength. “be a good girl for me.”
your loud moan echoes in the air. you clutch hard against tom’s length, trying not to come without his word. his thumb and index finger rolls over your clit teasingly while his tip hits that spot inside of you that makes you scream. you yank his hair harshly, praying he would let you come already.
“please let me come! i’ve been good,” a whine escapes your mouth while your chest heaves in exhaustion. your desperate begging and your hands laced in his hair have him struggling to hold on himself. he moans into the cradle on your collarbone, resisting every urge telling him to blast his load into you right now.
“just a little longer, sweets. you’re gonna feel real good,” his mild pacing thrusts are agonizing because you’re right there and you can’t release it. your teeth sink deeply into your bottom lip and your back arches painfully off the mattress. “i’m fucking you nice and deep, aren’t i, honey?” tom’s eyes are dark with lust and hints of honey, and his cheeks were a tad rosy from the sexual heat in the room. he rubs over your stomach, feeling your muscles contracting to hold in your orgasm.
“oh, you’re so deep. can feel you in my tummy,” your eyes screw closed as your core tenses and you clench around him harshly. your spread legs shake desperately, unable to hold it any longer. “please!”
“let go for me, darling,” tom’s husky voice alerts you, and your body tumbles into that longing release. “look at me. i want to see your pretty face while you come on my cock.”
your foggy brain isn’t working enough to hide your echoey moans and whimpers. your face pinches with a scrunched nose as you try your best to keep your eyes wide for him. your nails scratch tom’s scalp as the euphoria washes over your body like a tidal wave. your heart beats sporadically in your chest at the overwhelming pleasure. hearing and seeing you unfold, tom’s movements become sloppy and slippery as your orgasm coats his shaft.
tom stares at you in all your glory, a moment of disbelief hitting him that you’re all his.
“fuck, baby. ’m gonna come. fill you up so full, you’ll be leaking with my cum,” tom groans, dick twitching as his balls tighten before his cum is shooting out of him. his moans are gravelly compared to your angelic ones, crisping the heated air around you with its masculine tone. his ecstasy occurs in flashes and heavy breaths.
tom makes sure each drop is tucked into your warm cunt, thrusting slowly to ensure it. you smile at the feeling of his orgasm coating your walls until you're full to the brim. clenching, you try your best to keep all of it inside of you.
“good girl. such a good fucking girl,” breathlessly, tom kisses your sweaty forehead while his heart floats in his chest. you smile wearily and run your hands through his damp curls as they stick to his hairline. “always so good to me.”
“i could say the same about you,” you grin with amusement. tom chuckles before kissing you sensually, making your eyes drift closed. your hands cup his soft, chiseled cheeks as everything in the world fades away.
when his mouth deattaches, yours is left aching for more as always. the tingle of his rouge lips lingers when he rolls over to your side and tosses the comforter over you both. he faces your backside and drags you close, securing an arm around your waist.
from the liberating blissfulness and the warmth of tom’s warmth, exhaustion haunts your body and a yawn arises from your throat. his cum threatens to drip out of you, even with closed thighs.
“tired, darling?” tom asks while caressing small circles on your torso. his subtle touch was addicting and comforting like a lullaby to a baby. you hum in response, eyes fluttering closed. your breathing and heart rate soon balance, and the tension within your muscles begin to ease.
you slip away into your dreams with one of them cradling you.
“i love you,” tom whispers to the sleepy girl in his arms. he kisses your shoulder delicately, encompassing the perfection of this moment. as his own eyes start to close, his breathing steadies comfortably. he doesn’t fall asleep until his heartbeat matches yours in perfect sync.
#shawnxstyles#tom holland#tom holland smut#tom holland blurb#tom holland drabble#tom holland fan fics#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fluff#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#soft dom!tom holland
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Peter Parker - My son !?
Warning : nsfw, top!reader
Genre : smut
Synopsis : "male reader is tony stark son and Peter (tom holland) and Dom m reader are secretly dating and tony finds out?" - @kai-wifey
Reader : male (you/yours)
-cis women dni-
You've been dating Peter for a few weeks now, and so far, your father, Tony Stark, hadn't noticed.
You wondered how, though, because as much as you tried to be discreet about it, your boyfriend wasn't so much. Oh, he was trying, too ! But just not as good as you.
Peter and you were currently making out on the bed in his room, relishing in the little noises that left his lips.
Your hand was under his shirt, caressing his soft skin. You pinched his nipple and he moaned.
"[Name], stop teasing…"
"You like it." You said, continuing to play with his nipple.
He blushed, unable to say 'no'.
You only stopped to feel his hard-on, earning a few soft sighs and whines as you palmed him through his pants.
"Please." He said. "I want you."
You nodded, and removed his pants, looking at his dick proudly standing, making you smile. He watched your reaction, feeling a bit shy.
You jumped out of the bed to grab some lube and went back on the bed, between his legs.
"Open your legs, baby." You asked, tapping his knee gently and he did so, letting out a shaky sigh. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of ya."
You poured a good amount of lube on your finger before prodding your index to his entrance. Rubbing soothing circles to tease and calm him down.
"It's cold ?" You asked, pouring more lube on his hole.
"Yeah a bit."
"Sorry."
"It's fine." He said with another sigh before grimacing a bit as you pushed your finger inside him.
"You're doing good." You said, softly kissing his knee as your thumb rubbed his perineum. You felt him relax slowly around your finger so you added a second one, slowly scissoring his ass as Peter covered his mouth with his hands to not make any sounds.
But you could still hear his whimpering and small moans.
After a few minutes you pulled your fingers out, making him whine at their absence. You pushed your pants to your knees, fishing for something in your pocket.
Giving yourself a few strokes, you rolled a condom on your cock and poured some lube on yourself, spreading it slowly before his watchful eyes.
"Yeah it's cold." You say with a chuckle and shift closer.
You push the head in, eyeing his reaction as you slowly insert more of yourself inside him. His face contorts, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through him until only pleasure remains.
You hear him breathe loudly, slowly adjusting to the intrusion and you begin to move, drawing pretty little moans out of him. You place his legs on your shoulders, holding them against you as you gradually starts to fuck into him.
His moans get louder and he has to slap his hands to his mouth once again, making you smile and laugh quietly.
You're now fucking his hole, shamelessly pounding into him, as one of your hands goes under his shirt, caressing his skin before grabbing his dick and starting to jerk him off at the same pace.
You hear people talking outside of the room but you don't care, you continue abusing his hole, hitting his prostate dead on and Peter closes his eyes.
"I'm gonna- I'm close-" He whispers-yelled, trying to close his legs but you kept them open.
His face was red as he came, stopping himself from breathing to not make any sounds, cum landing on his shirt. You're near your orgasm as well, you can feel it, your dick throbbing inside his tight ass.
You heard a faint knock before the door creaked open and-
"Sorry to disturb you from your homework, kid, bu- [Name] !?"
"Mister Stark !"
"Oh my god, dad ! What the fuck are you doing here !?" You yell, hiding the both of you with the bed-sheets.
"What are you doing here ?" Tony asks back.
"Didn't you just see !? Get out !" You threw the pillow at him as he quickly closed the door.
What the fuck !?
Tony took a moment to gather his thoughts, and noticed May looking at him with a grimace.
"That's why I told you not to…"
He sighed, closing his eyes.
"God." He sighed quietly. "Are you dating my son !?" He asks, through the door.
"Yes !"
"What does it look like !? Dad, seriously !"
"Use protections !"
"We are !" You yelled back. "Go away !"
#male reader#m!reader#peter parker#peter parker imagine#Peter parker x male reader#spiderman imagine#spiderman x male reader#spiderman
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bro i fkn came at the thought of your blurb prompt fuck right off HAHA
the blurb prompt in question >:-)
cake; {p.p.}
Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)
Summary: it's not even my birthday, but he wanna lick the icing off (lyrics by rihanna, birthday cake)
“Happy birthday Peter,” She speaks with her hands planted on her knees.
He gets on the bed, ready to pounce on her to her delight. “I think this will be my favorite gift yet,” He mutters while she leans back, elbows falling on his pillows.
Warnings: established relationship, smut, food mention, vaginal fingering, oral sex, light dom/sub dynamics if you squint, spanking, allusion to self esteem + body image insecurity, language, 18+, NSFW
Word Count: 3.1k (2.5k is smut... (i got carried away) (anyway))
A/N: decided to go with the birthday theme bc its leo season aka peter parker + spider-man season also happy birthday to mcu peter :') so feel free to imagine this as tom holland's peter cause it's canonically his day shdnsjd
It was Peter’s birthday and they were barely getting home from his celebration. It was an intimate gathering of his closest friends and his girlfriend at one of his favorite restaurants that wasn’t strictly Chinese takeout.
To her satisfaction, this was after a few weeks of complaints from Peter of her going all for his birthday because he claimed it was “no big deal”. A few days beforehand, she eventually wore him down to allow her to do this one nice thing for him, mainly because he was able to piece two and two together and realized his objections fell on deaf ears.
He was still embarrassed from the singing from everyone in close proximity, followed by the cake play she teased him with when everyone was too distracted to tease them both about their PDA.
Peter closes the door behind her, while she’s still holding onto his hand. All she wanted was to give him his final present for the night to remind him how grateful she was for his presence in her life.
“Peter, c’mere,” She lightly whines while he locks the door of his apartment.
“What is it baby?” He responds, looking down at her before she pretends to wipe away leftover frosting from his cheek.
“You got a little something here,” She lies, making him look at her. He’s so tired from all the attention tonight, his face softens up from just staring at her.
“Do I?” He smiles gently. She smiles back before trailing her fingers to his lips.
“Yeah,” She whispers under her breath before bringing her other hand to the nape of his neck. She pulls him in to kiss her, inhaling the scent of his cologne. It was intoxicating being with him, and she swore it was something she’d never get used to.
Peter smiles against her cheeks when you pull away to breathe, remembering her plans for the rest of the night. “Are you ready for your last present, birthday boy?” She smirks, feeling his hands grope her ass as he refuses to let her go.
“You gave me like three this morning and threw me a birthday dinner,” He mumbles in her skin as he hangs his head in the crook of her neck with an iron grip on her waist.
“Hence why I said “last”.” She reminds him. She hesitantly grabs Peter’s hands to detach himself from her, telling him to wait in his living room.
She goes into the bag she brought earlier for tonight to get ready, looking at the lacy lingerie set in front of her. She had bought fishnet stockings that went up right below her ass, with a garter belt wrapping around her waist. There was a floral pattern tracing the lower half of the belt, complimenting the soft flesh of her stomach sitting underneath it.
The underwear and bra were a matching set, barely leaving anything to imagination which she knew Peter would be delighted by. They both had the same flowers on her garter, but with the sheer fabric that graced her backside leaving her ass on display.
She clasps the stockings to your garter and stares at herself in the mirror, making sure there wasn’t a hair out of place and that her makeup was still intact. She reapplies her lipstick from earlier and studies herself, feeling shy as she’s about to call him back in.
Turning around to make sure her ass is complemented by the material, she spins back to the front. She’s still studying her nipples through the material, assessing the flowers that decorated the valley of her chest.
She crawls onto his made bed, smiling to herself as she knows that won’t be the case for long. She kneels on this mattress before the door, fidgeting with her hands in her lap before she calls Peter.
“Come in,” She yells out, focused on the way her thighs spilled out of her stockings due to the position she sat in. She tried not to pay it no mind, knowing that Peter didn’t care how her body looked, but it was hard not to feel particularly focused on every part of herself before they became intimate. She hears his steps pick up behind the door and feels her heart picking up at the doorknob turning.
He comes in, staring at her with his lips being chewed between his lips. He silently huffed in surprise and a blush crept up his cheeks. She still avoids holding his gaze for too long, hoping he’d find the gesture sexy enough. She continues to be fidgety with the thin material of her set, looking at him with her eyes glassy and doe eyed.
Peter strolls along his bed, loosening the buttons of his shirt. He sticks his tongue out licking his bottom lip, still not saying a thing. She looks up to see his eyes darken when his lips curl into a smile and feels her confidence rushing back, knowing he probably wanted nothing more than to take her right there. She sits up straighter, her chest on full display before she breaks the silence.
“Happy birthday Peter,” She speaks with her hands planted on her knees.
He gets on the bed, ready to pounce on her to her delight. “I think this will be my favorite gift yet,” He mutters while she leans back, elbows falling on his pillows. Peter attacks her with kisses, trailing down to her chest as he cups her breasts through the bralette.
“Yeah?” She asks, struggling to hide the excitement in her voice as he showers her in affection. She gasps out as she feels the wetness of his mouth devouring her nipple through the bra, feeling his tongue roll along her breast. Peter removes his mouth from her nipple and nods in between her tits and she can feel his smile when he does before she even looks down to see his eyes staring her down.
She averts eye contact, closing her eyes and humming while she wraps her fingers into his hair, tugging at it lightly.
“Don’t do that,” He quietly demands, much to her confusion.
“What?” She pouts, furrowing her eyebrows at the absence of his body on hers. She opens her eyes and sees him shaking his head while he readjusts off to the side of the bed to take off his shirt. On a side note, she doesn’t think she’d ever get tired of seeing Peter shirtless, if she had it her way his physique would be in a museum.
Peter’s answer takes her out of her daydream. “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.” He insists, to which she rolls her eyes to before staring at him. She clenches her thighs closer together at the sight of his body, muscles defined even in the low lighting of the room and his hair tousled (courtesy of her).
She nods, biting the inside of her cheek, still captivated by the sight of him. Oppositely, Peter focused on the way her heart beat was picking up as he unbuckled his pants. While he pulls his pants down, he watches the way she crosses her foot behind her leg, shifting her weight on one arm to inch closer to the side of the bed he’s standing by.
“That’s my girl,” He says smugly, making her thighs clench together again. She positions herself on all fours now, fingertips teasing the waistband of Peter’s boxers while you palm her erection through the fabric. She smirks as she feels his cock twitching at her touch, gripping tighter around him as she feels his veins through the material. He covers her hands mid stroke and gently gestures to her to stop, to her frustration. He half-smiles.
“I think you’ve done enough today,” He playfully scolds, before kneeling on the bed, making her back away. She’s back to her original position on her knees, still sitting up to meet Peter on eye level. She shakes her head, laying back down in the pillows in defeat, knowing what he wanted to do. She knocks her knees together while flat on her back and feet planted in the bed. Peter maneuvers himself to separate her legs with himself, aiming his face to attack her heat.
Then, Peter thinks better of it. “I wanna try something,” He declares. She starts to speak but he picks her up by the waist, replacing her previous position with himself. She finds herself with her legs on either side of his waist before she can think better of it. He’s now beneath her, smirking at her confusion before she asks. “What is it?”
“Sit on my face,” Peter says nonchalantly, almost shrugging as he plays with the straps connecting her stockings to the garter. She lets go of a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in and barely sets her weight on top of him, very hesitant about his request. Peter is trying to read her face and pouts slightly when he senses her discomfort.
“What if I hurt you?” She seriously asks. Peter laughs a little too hard, causing her to fall forward to hide her face in his neck.
“Stop it, ‘m serious,” She mumbles against his skin when she feels his chest heaving slow down. Peter runs his hands along her spine, one eventually resting on her ass cheek to cup and squeeze it. She plants her hands on his pecs before raising herself from her previous position to face him again. She sees him grinning, still amused by her previous question to which she rolls her eyes at.
“I know you are,” Peter lightly smacks her ass causing her to moan, mindlessly grinding on his lower abs.
“But think about it as my final birthday gift, yeah?” Peter’s face lights up at the suggestion as she can feel him practically clawing at her backside, excited to readjust himself to place his mouth to her wet cunt once she says yes.
“You won’t hurt me,” He adds seriously. She knew realistically she wouldn’t (or couldn’t), but there was a bit of self consciousness making her too afraid to put her entire weight on his face. The same fear that she had when she originally started sleeping with him and hated being on top for the same reason, until he displayed his insane strength and started slamming her own hips onto his.
“Okay, yes.” She nods and exasperates jokingly before Peter quickly worms his way down his bed to position himself right underneath her slit.
Her thighs were on either side of Peter’s head, he acknowledges this by peppering them in kisses, making her drip in anticipation. He wraps the back of her knees with his own arms, hands firmly grasping her hips before letting her put her weight onto him.
“My pretty girl,” He murmurs underneath her, lips lightly grazing the fabric that separated her wetness from him. “Gorgeous body too,” He adds before giving her a much stronger smack on her ass, making her yelp out and lean forward in pleasure.
Peter moves her panties to the side, finally lowering her body onto his mouth and forces her to rest her weight on his face. He savors her, licking long stripes on her slit making her squirm on top of him from under the amount of pressure he put on her sensitivity. She felt like her thighs were going to crush his head and attempted to not squeeze any further but he noticed this, shaking his head before he interrupted to speak.
“What did I tell you?” He says, a deeper, domineering voice sending sharp vibrations through her body.
She whimpers as an answer. Peter doesn’t like this. He slaps her ass again making her yell once again, unconsciously clenching Peter’s head around her thighs and he forces her to hold this position. She feels his mouth go to work on her as she mindlessly grinded against his tongue.
She ruts onto his mouth from the strength Peter was displaying by not only holding her up, but squeezing her skin so hard she’d be sure to feel the bruises the next morning. Peter’s enjoyment could be heard through the room by the way he slurped down her wetness. He readjusts one of his hands to the front to play with her clit during, making her legs shake on top of him.
She eventually stops fighting it and squeezes around Peter, only encouraging him further by as he applies pressure onto her cunt with his tongue and her clit with his thumb, She leans down grabbing his hair for some, any leverage as the sensation felt like she was about to see stars. She begins panting, begging Peter to relax.
“Peter please slow down,” She cries, wanting to lift off but Peter refuses, keeping her on at the same amount of pressure. He only holds her tighter, shaking his head in between her thighs while his tongue thrusted further in her folds. He only let her lift off briefly, before bringing her back down to suck on her clit, slowly at her request.
This bastard, she thought, but all that came out was a moan that could barely be heard. Her soft stomach heaving up and down from the contractions of her orgasm building up.
She rocked her hips as slowly as she could in his hold, still not wanting to hurt him, but it became harder with the way his tongue skillfully rolls along her nub. He playfully grazes it along his teeth making her cry out louder.
“Fuck,” is only one of the obscenities that was strewn along with his name. She removes her hands from his head, and moves to the headboard in front of them, and starts to actively grind against his mouth knowing what he wanted.
“Faster,” She mutters, making the bed creak beneath her at the pace she was moving.
Peter briefly pauses on her clit, fully maneuvering the hold he had her under to replace his mouth with his thumb and looks at her from below, grinning with a mouth and chin covered in her wetness. She still whimpers with his touch, feeling like she was going to cum soon off of the rubbing alone.
“I still gotta prep you baby,” Peter says, making her dizzy. He uses his other hand for the prepping in question and slowly inserts one one of his long, calloused fingers inside of her. Without thinking, she reached down with one hand to spread her lips wider for his insertion, making him chuckle at her desperation.
“My needy girl, want me to fill you up that bad?” Peter teases, shining his perfect smile at her. So perfect it only makes her more frantic. He quickens the thrust of his own finger, watching her carefully which makes her shy, but she knows he was gonna spank her if she avoided his eye contact.
On second thought?
She looks back up, bracing herself for the loud smack that would send tingles right to her cunt. He bites his lower lip before fully removing his one finger and a loud blow is sent to her cheek. She clenches around nothing, leaning even further down with her forehead on the headboard, a loud curse being shouted in his bedroom.
“Look at me,” Peter says in a much gentler tone than earlier, squeezing her burning flesh before movin one of his hands back to her desperate, dripping cunt. Her back straightens up, meeting his eyes when she looks down and nods, tears brimming her eyelashes from how good it feels, and how badly she wanted him to continue.
“You want me to stop?” Peter seriously asks. She shakes her head profusely, before verbalizing.
“I want you to continue Peter.” Her breath was ragged, reaching for his free hand, lacing his fingers with hers before kissing the front of his. He gives her a few more seconds to breathe which she takes to show how eager she was to continue. She sits back up, giving him space to fully readjust inserting his fingers in her, this time two.
Bouncing up and down on them, she focuses on returning Peter’s intense gaze, finding it hard to compose her expressions. Peter found it hot, jaw practically on the floor while he stared up at her almost losing herself only on his fingers. He starts to curl his fingers inside of her, making her briefly throw her head back, breasts almost falling out of her lingerie. Peter was making a mental note to make that happen sooner or later.
He soon adds a third finger which makes her hips stutter, a little too full inside of her to fully ride but Peter is determined to make her comfortable. He moves back within her thighs and places his mouth on her clit, holding her backside to make sure she was still able to feel his fingers within her.
Soon she loosens up enough to continue grinding on his mouth and fingers, but feels herself heaving once again, an orgasm building up in her stomach which inevitable by the way Peter was repeatedly hitting all the right spots.
“I’m gonna cum,” She gasps. She cuts Peter off by the smug look he has in his eyes and speaks again.
“And I can’t hold it,” She moans, internally begging him to continue at the pace he was going at. He obliges, pumping in and out of her repeatedly until her orgasm is basically engulfing his fingers back in. She slows down her movements on his fingers, barely able to breathe or form a coherent thought at the moment.
Peter removes his fingers from her cunt and raises her a few inches higher so he can worm his way back to a sitting position, back against the headboard and her in his lap. She’s already exhausted, trying to wake up from that orgasm because the night had just started and her set was still fully intact. Her head is resting on Peter’s collarbone running her hands against his chest while he holds her closely.
“Tired?” He jokes. She can hear the smirk on his lips and wants to kick him right there.
“Mm,” She grumbles.
She trails down her hand to his boxers, slipping beneath the waistband and her fingers immediately feel the wetness of his precum leaking all over his erection. She playfully gasps in shock before tipping her head back to whisper in his ear.
“Are you wet?” Her voice sounds as if it’s a scandal, trying to mimic the same teasing tone Peter loves to pull on her. His laugh fills the room, making all the energy from earlier come back to her body. He brings his hand up to her face, staring at her with love.
“Ready for round two?” He questions, holding her chin in between his fingers to catch her gaze. Her eyes flicker in between his eyes and lips in a half lidded stare of lust.
“Nuh uh, lay back down and get ready for a taste of your own medicine.” She grins, already getting a strained moan from Peter’s lips as she starts to tug at his cock.
#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker fic#tasm!peter smut#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter fanfiction#tasm andrew garfield#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!spiderman x you#andrew garfield smut#andrew garfield x reader#andrew garfield x female reader#andrew garfield x you#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter one shot#tasm!peter imagine#oneshot#fanfiction#peter parker smut#peter parker imagine#peter parker oneshot#andrew garfield peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#tasm!peter parker x reader#peter parker x black!reader#mcu!peter x black!reader#peter parker x black reader#plus size reader#peter parker x plus size reader#the writing’s on the wall
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Hey nerds. Here are some our favorite Marvel headcanons we came up together!
Today we start off with our favorite boys.
These headcanons are SFW/NSFW so minors do not interact please.
Last thing, our ask box is open for requests for your favorite Marvel babes.
Enby/Fem readers.
Wade Wilson - Deadpool @hopperswhoreee
He’s an ass man
He is pan, he does not care who his partner is
Average size dick, I’d say between 6-7 inches
Man loves to go down on his partner, he’ll bury his head between their thighs until they’re screaming his name, and he’ll just keep going
He has an oral fixation. He’s always got something in his mouth, especially if he’s trying to concentrate on something
He loves aftercare. If you’re not careful he’ll rush through sex just for the aftercare because man is obsessed with his partner and loves hearing giggles and smiles and dimples and the way his partner’s eyes crinkle when they smile and he knows it’s just for him
A whore for a partner to be on top but uses it as an excuse to be a power bottom.
Loves lazy days eating shitty microwaved burritos and chimichangas and watching movies with his partner in matching pajama bottoms.
The crocs stay on. That's it.
Pain kink, he is an ass man remember?, he will smack it a lot… A lot, a lot.
Sit on his face
Loves to be handsy, especially in public as well so expect a lot of grazes on the butt and soft touches against the small of your back.
Wade is a softie for cheesy ass romcoms, he would know lines word for word.
Dancing to Wham! In your underwear with him.
Roleplay sex, Wade likes trying to do different things like pretending he is a pizza delivery man with his dick in the box. What? Wade is a dirty man, he is going to be lewd. You signed up for his shit.
Peter Parker - Spiderman (Tom Holland, and we are writing if his Peter was in his 20s/College times) @grinnincheshire
Boring straight boy, but up for threesomes if his partner asks
People pleaser translates to the bedroom
PRAISE KINK
Also maybe a small bondage thing…webs? Yes please
He loves cozy Saturday’s on the couch with his partner, legs tangled up, maybe Star Wars on the TV but he’s quoting the movies word for word. Sometimes he gets up and forces his partner to reenact the scenes with him because he’s such a giant nerd and his partner can never say no because the smile that’s on his face and the pleading eyes sucker anyone in
He’s obsessed with coffee and Starbucks and small coffee shops. He loves the atmosphere but he loves the smell the most. He hasn’t figured out how to get his apartment to smell like coffee yet and last, but he knows he will
He loves farmers markets, especially if he and his partner go on vacation to some small town in the middle of nowhere. He loves the energy that they create and how it feels like such a strange atmosphere for him but it feels cozy
Can be a soft Dom sometimes especially if jealous, but he loves when his partner takes more control.
He is going to have to get used to you stealing his clothes, especially the sweatshirts.
Webs for sexy time? Sure thing.
His partner riding him, he loves staring and watching their breasts bouncing up and down as they move their hips.
That man can get off but just trying to keep you please, and ruin his boxers for you.
Clumsy in bed, he is a flustering mess.
Expect you two building lego sets while watching nerdy movies with bottles of wine of course.
Peter tries his best to remember things, but he is forgetful and when it comes to forgetting something between the two of you like a major date, anniversary, etc... Expect a lot of kissing ass and him coming home to you with flowers that are all messed up from him swinging his way to you.
#marvel#marvel headcanons#mcufam#anything marvel related#marvel smut#marvel fanfic#peter parker#peter parker x reader#tom holland#tom!peter x reader#tom!spiderman#tom!peter x reader smut#wade wilson#deadpool#spiderman#spiderman fanfiction#wade wilson x reader#deadpool x reader#wade wilson x reader smut#deadpool x reader smut#spiderman x reader#marvel fanfiction#mcu phase 4#mcu headcanons
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snowed in hell
you didn't think a weekend with your boss could get worse... actually, it does once you're snowed in with him and away from home. you thought he was the worse, but there is something beneath his cold exterior that's very passionate and romantic and you're curious if you can explore that.
PAIRING: ceo!tom holland x assistant/secretary!reader
GENRE: smut 18+ minors dni!, pwp, enemies to lovers (?), secret crushes, lots and lots of longing and pining, dom!tom + dom!reader
WORD COUNT: 3.2k [the longest one so far lol]
A/N: merry christmas eve/happy holidays! sexy present here lmao. i haven't written smut in a while so apologies in advance but i thought id just throw one in there. honestly may post more on my smut sideblog now that i have a bit more time to write! let me know if this series has been great for you guys :D
𑁍 masterlist 𑁍
"A weekend away didn't seem like a bad idea"... is what you should be thinking. The winter wonderland that was this beautiful snowfall was all nice and cheery until you're going with your boss for one of his many conferences before the holiday season can start.
Now, Tom Holland wasn't bad looking, but once his egotistical comments spouted out of his mouth, you were able to snap back into reality. Not only could he sound like the most out-of-touch guy, but he flaunted how successful he was on-top of his looks.
So when he invited you－ no, expect you－ to come to this conference, it was a bit of a disappointment when you thought that it would be your one weekend of not doing anything that revolved around him. Now it was all about him... as per usual.
Carefully driving to the five-star hotel, all he did was talk about his own expectations and try to figure out what to say at the big dinner they were holding before tomorrow's conference. All you could do was make mental notes since you were driving and he was checking himself in the mirror in the backseat.
Luckily, you had adjoined rooms so there was some separation between your lives these next two days. While he was working in his room, you hoped to go on the slopes and enjoy breakfast on the nice outside deck while reading a book. Maybe even meet someone like in some cheesy romance movie.
"No, no, we have the charity ball on the 5th. The opening of the library the week after." Tom sighed, "Yes, yes, darling, I'm aware of that, but we can move all those dates... Trust me, I know Mr. Morales isn't with his wife on Tuesdays and Thursdays..." He continued, his left eyebrow arched.
You could roll your eyes, but all you did was take a deep breath.
"Well, I checked in the mirror and I can say that today is gonna be a great day." He smirked.
Oh, God. You needed this thirty remaining minutes to turn into thirty seconds.
"Y/N, slow down a bit. We're in no rush." Tom signaled his hand, looking through the front windshield.
"Yes, sir." You grinned, fixing your posture as you eased your foot off the gas pedal.
�� ♡ ♡
You're relieved once you're checked into your room, knowing there was one wall between you and Tom. When you lay on your bed, basically hoping into the soft mattress, you let out a huge sigh of relief.
After a few minutes of hearing Tom's muffled voice through the wall, it was silent. You fix your skirt and button up before knocking on the door until Tom said you could come in.
When you step in, you see Tom standing in front of the full-body mirror by the window. As much as you wanted to complain, he did look good in a dark suit. You saw him adjust his sleeves under his jacket, but his tie was crooked.
"Here, I let me fix your tie." You trailed as you walked over.
You leaned into your heels, pulling the tie a bit down before pulling it perfectly where the top button of his shirt was. His brown eyes glossed over as he watched you, admiring how the orange light from the sunset laying against your face.
When you lifted your head, you saw his eyes, but you two could just produce awkward laughs. When you were hired, all your friends envied that you worked for someone as handsome and suave as Tom, and so were you. It was his huge ego that got in the way. Then, there were moments like this where that small crush bloomed back up.
Tom couldn't disagree that there weren't some feelings in the beginning as well. Workplace relationships were frowned upon, and already keeping his father's company afloat, there was no need to try to impress you. He would rather fight off those feelings then see where it goes.
"Thank you, Y/N." He said before clearing his throat.
"Of course, sir." You grinned.
"You don't have to always call me that. It's Tom, darling."
"I know." You quickly said, but you felt heat on your cheeks.
"Well, we need to get down there." He quickly gathered himself before the two of you left your rooms.
When you entered the elevator, it was just the two of you. There wasn't much said but it stopped on the floor below, a few people filed in and you felt Tom place his hand on your lower back as you took a few steps back.
You leaned next to him, placing your hand on his chest. Tom's heart hadn't beat so fast in a while, but in that moment, he thought everyone in the small space could hear it.
"Sorry, sir." You said, pulling your hand back and then tucking your hair behind your ear.
"You don't have to apologize, darling."
Your eyes fixated longer on him before the doors opened, and he walked out with the others.
Quickly, you followed him before he was practically mobbed by his peers, asking all these questions and statements while you stood behind his back. A few times he'd look over his shoulder to make sure you were close, and you would show him a small smile.
Time got away as he loved to talk business before timidly tapped his shoulder and he turned his attention toward you.
"Sir, the conference starts in five minutes."
He chuckled, "Oh, I have to go but nice seeing you guys. Let's catch up this weekend." Tom smiled at the few men.
As the two of you walked away, Tom's smile fell and his hands played with the first button of his suit jacket.
"What happened?" You asked, trying to keep up with his fast pace.
"Just because I have the money to finance their plans doesn't mean I can. I'm not..." He trailed, "Well, I'm not some dream maker. Let's put it at that."
"Sorry about that, sir." You cleared your throat.
"Remember what we spoke about?" He asked, turning to you.
"Tom... I meant Tom." You trailed, giving a half-smile.
He actually smiled back, something you rarely saw but the two of you continued to the hall, taking your seats before a long meeting.
♡ ♡ ♡
After an hour and a half, you and Tom went to the bar as per his request. Instead of sitting at the stools, you were sat at a table and you weren't use to spending a dinner with him. When the waiter came by, you were going to order for the two of you until Tom spoke first.
"One glass of scotch neat and a gin and tonic, light on the tonic." He said, impressing you.
"You remembered?" You asked, sounding like an old friend.
"Of course. It's not always your job to do that." He grinned.
Once you got your drinks, you cheers to the night and a successful start to the weekend. You almost wanted to toast to Tom not getting on your last nerve, but a man came by with 'manager' written under his name on his tag.
"Excuse me, but we just wanted to tell you that there is a harsh snowstorm right now. There may be some bad cell service and the roads are completely covered so, I would advise you not to go out tonight if you were planning to leave."
"Thank you for telling us." Tom nodded.
"We can send anything complimentary to your room if needed, Mr. Holland." He reassured him before leaving.
"Wow, so you're not new around here." You joked a bit and wondered if it was okay.
"Yeah, I've come here a few times. With my dad before I took over the business. Anything you need, on me."
You nodded, taking a sip of your drink, and then the rest of the hour was getting to know one another. He got to know you better than when you were first interviewed, but now that he was relaxed, Tom got to know you better than the side he aggressively showed in the office.
He had been meaning to sit down with you for a long time, wondering if there was any chance he would, but he thought about his reputation too much. He knew it could be a mood-killer sometimes, but there was a lot to hold yet being with you right there made him forget all of that.
There was an unspoken tension at the table and neither of you two wanted to address it... but there was still enough time in the weekend.
♡ ♡ ♡
That night, you weren't sure how to feel. You wondered if there was actually anything you felt romantically toward Tom. You paced the room a few times and ended up staring into the night sky through your deck.
Once you tried to focus on the silence of the room, you could hear the muffled TV noises coming through the wall that shared your rooms. You took a few deep breaths as you approach the door, talking yourself through this in your head.
You knocked, "May I come in?"
"Yeah!" Tom shouted.
When you entered his room, the beginning of the movie Charade starring Audrey Hepburn was on, oddly fitting with the location you were staying at. Tom walked from the bathroom, his tie loosen and his shoes off. He seemed more relaxed than you did, but he probably wasn't wondering what was coming of this in your mind.
"Hi... I uh, I just heard the TV and thought I would um... I uh, come over." You said, knowing how awkward and childish it sounded.
"Yeah, just an old movie. I was practicing my speech for tomorrow's conference." He said, gently pulling off his cuff links.
You hummed, standing there and your knees suddenly felt weak.
Tom took a second look at you, "Is everything okay?"
Butterflies swarmed inside your stomach, fuzzy feelings exploding and all you could do was slowly walk over to him. He sensed what move you could make, but Tom stood tall and strong, able to easily do it.
"Y/N, look at me." He softly commanded.
Your eyes met, and all you could hear was the TV in the background and the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Just as you took a step closer, he placed his hand on your soft cheek. Soon, your lips met in the middle for a spontaneous kiss that tasted heavenly.
As your tongue pressed against his, practically melting at how soft his was, his firm hands began to unbutton your top before he pulled away from the kiss.
"Is this okay?" He practically whispered.
You hummed, "Yes. Yes, keep going."
Just like that, he contiuned pulling apart the buttons one by one as your noses brushed against one another's and you could barely take the tension.
Once you undid the last button, you let your shirt fall near your feet. Standing there in your silk white bra and skirt, you slowly pushed him toward the bed until he sat down. His eyes trailed your body as you stood only a few feet away and your hands met the back of your skirt.
He watched you slowly peel down the zipper, the fabric pulling from your body before it fell to the ground as well. Tom's mouth gapped a bit, seeing your stockings were attached to a white garter belt and the matching lacey, white panties beneath them.
Tom was loss for words, the dim lights not doing any justice for your body. He leaned up as you walked toward him, and his hands immediately met your hips. He slowly pressed his lips against your lower abdomen, giving you butterlies as he continued to tease.
As you watched him carefully place his wet kisses, your hand met his soft curls and carded through them each time he got lower. He used his teeth to pull at the top of your panties, letting the fabric lightly slap your skin.
"You look like an angel, you know that?" He muttered.
You wanted to nod, but he ran his hand up your inner thigh before meeting your clothed slit. He smirked as he massaged the wet spot on the center of your panties. Your swollen clit ached, trying not to let your knees get weak as you still stood infront of him.
Your hands met his shoulders, and your fingernails lightly grazed his freckled skin. He kept moving his two fingers ever so slowly as he left a small love bite on your hip.
"I bet you want me to fuck you senseless, yes?" He groaned, "Until you can't even say words... just my name."
A small moan left your throat as he switched to his thumb rubbing on your clit. You gulped, wanting him to pull them off already but instead he brought you down to your knees.
"Not before you prove to me you're a good girl who deserves to be fucked so good." Tom nodded, holding his eye contact with you.
At first you wanted to pout, but you also wanted to show him that you were no force to be reckon with either. He thought he had the control and you were going to change that.
"Yes, sir." You trailed, giving a new meaning to the respect addressing he always told you not to use.
After unbuckling his belt, you threw it to the side before unzipping his pants. His cock pressed against his briefs, bigger than you expected. You tossed his pants along with his belt before your hand moved against his hard that stayed below the soft fabric.
Your fingers pulled each side of the band of his briefs, watching his cock spring up and all felt was your face feeling hot. He carefully watched your hand perfectly grip his base, pumping his hard slowly as your tongue ran over his red tip.
"Fucking christ, fuck." He groaned, using his weight to push up on his elbows as he laid back on the bed.
He expected you to be fast, but the slowness of your pace was killing him. Your hand moved up and down, your spit lubricating his base and your mouth wrapped around his tip.
"Don't fucking tease me all night, darling." He lowly growled, his hand moving through your hair to keep it from your face. He wanted to watch every second of his cock in your sweet mouth.
As your hands pushed against both his thighs, you felt his cock grow harder as his tip pressed against the back of your throat. You couldn't see Tom, but heard his moans he was obviously trying to hold back.
"No teeth, darling. Open your mouth wider... fucking. Yeah, fucking feels good." He practically panted.
Before he felt himself on the edge, you pulled away and all he could hear was his own heart beating. He didn't question fast enough, and you were already on your feet before straddling him.
"You had your fun, now you're gonna show me why you deserve to fuck me." You giggled, half-smiling then pressed your lips against his. He liked this side of you.
Tom rolled the two of you over, the cool sheets against your back. He parted your legs as he trailed wet kisses over your bra, down your stomach then over your panties. You tilted your head watching him unclip your stockings from your belt, then pulling your panties to the side.
He propped your left leg over his shoulder before placing a kiss on your clit, so swollen and wet. His tongue perfect stoked below your clit and right above your slit, just the place to make your whole body squirm. Tom continued to flick his tongue right at your sweet spot, holding down your hips as they tried to move.
A trail of quiet moans left your lips, completely in awe of how he took his time. Just as your stomach turned, his two fingers slipped inside you. They curled and moved slowly as his tongue worked your clit.
You could cum right there, letting him watch your whole body wither but you wanted to play the long game too. Your grip moved to his curls, tugging so hard the move you tried to hold back your orgasm.
"Oh... oh, I wanna..." Your voice strained, ending up biting your lip.
Tom smirked before leaving wet kisses up your slit and then further up toward your hips until wrapping his lips around your right nipple.
You leaned up on your elbows, smiling to yourself before he kissed you again, "I wanna be in control now." You whispered.
The two of you switched positions again, straddling him as he leaned his back against the headboard the of bed. You slowly wrapped your arms back around him, pecking faint kisses up his neck before meeting your noses again.
Your one hand guided his tip to your slit, rubbing it against the wet entrance before sinking down on his lap. His low, rough grunt was against your lips, but all you could do was smirk.
"I bet you want me to move now on your cock. I can feel it stretching out my tight hole." You whispered once more.
He didn't think such a dirty sentence could come from those lips.
"God, you feel fucking amazing, you tease." He said, his fingers pushing into your hips.
"I don't want you to cum until I say..." You kissed him, "Think you can do that, sir?" You teased.
Surprisingly, he nodded his head but he was completely putty. You fixed your posture to make your back straight, then start moving your hips. His head falls, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.
Tom tried to refrain from moving, bucking his hips a few times. You tried to take control by kissing him and make sure he's distracted, but there was no stopping his wanting to turn the two of you over and have his own control back.
"Don't be shy, tell me if you're gonna cum." You whimpered, also feeling your walls tighten around his throbbing cock.
"God, yes. I'm gonna cum." He grunted between your kiss.
You sped up the pace of your hips, hearing the slapping of your skin fill the room. You gasp and whine, "Don't cum yet."
But, he was so eager.
"Not yet... not yet." You trailed as you felt near your edge. You wanted him to wait until you were right there too.
By this point, he didn't want to move his hips, afraid of letting go since he was holding back. Your nails dug across his back, your clit incredibly swollen and your wetness trailing down your inner thighs.
"Fucking cum now, God!" You announced in a whiny tone.
Tom pushed down your hips, and his cock bottomed out inside you. Your voices were shaky and hoarse by the time you came back down from your highs.
Your head fell against his shoulder, both of your bodies settling as you huffed to catch your breaths. You slowly rolled off of him and lay next to him in his bed. Quickly, he pulled the covers over you two and leaned on his side to look at your tired self.
"Think we can go for round two in say..." He checked his watch, "Ten minutes?" Tom joked.
You smirked, "Make it five and I promise I'll have you screaming louder than me."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Not for me, sir."
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Who I Will Write For and What I Will Write For
Will: Smut, fluff, angst, death, I will do Dom/sub dynamics, choking, masterbation, overestimulation, hard doms, soft doms.
Wont: Piss kink, shit kink, creampie, not too rough of sex (but I will do rough sex), and I will not write for use of toys.
Fandoms:
FREE REIN
Pin Hawthorne
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SHADOW AND BONE
Kaz Brekker
Jesper Fahey
Alina Starkov
General Kirigan
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MANIFEST
Ben Stone
Olive Stone
Cal Stone
Zeke Landon
Jared Vasquez
TJ Morrison
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DEADLY CLASS
Marcus Lopez
Saya Kuroki
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HARRY POTTER
Harry Potter
Draco Malfoy
Tom Riddle
Lorenzo Berkshire
Matteo Riddle
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MARAUDERS ERA
Young!James Potter
Young!Regulus Black
Young!Peter Pettigrew
Young!Remus Lupin
Young!Sirius Black
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NARNIA
Edmund Pevensie
Peter Pevensie
Prince Caspian
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BUNK'D
Griff Jones
Xander McCormick
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HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON
Hiccup Haddock
Astrid Hofferson
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ZOMBIES 2
Wyatt Lykensen
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SECRETS OF SULPHUR SPRINGS
Griffin Campbell
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DRAGONS: THE NINE REALMS
Tom Kullerson
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WEDNESDAY
Wednesday Addams
Tyler Galpin
Xavier Thorpe
Ajax
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DC
Barry Allen
Caitlin Snow
Alex Danvers
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MARVEL
Loki Laugherson
Tony Stark
Peter Parker (Tom Holland and Andrew Garfield)
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OUAT
Peter Pan
Felix
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MIRACULOUS
Chat Noir
Adrien Agreste
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HEARTLAND
Ty Borden
Dylan Westfield
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ENOLA HOLMES
Sherlock Holmes
Tewksbury
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ANNE WITH AN E
Gilbert Blythe
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RISE OF THE GUARDIANS
Jack Frost
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I do requests. I will do X Reader and X OC.
Message me through my profile if you have a request. I do not really check comments, so it's easier for me to get requests through a message then a comment
I will write for characters from Kings Choice which is a game on the Google play store. I dont know why but im in love with some of the characters, like, the way their animated is hot. Here's who I'll write for from the game:
Lance
Beth/Ian
Ryan
Esmerelda
Eva
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I will do smut, fluff, and angst for the Kings Choice game. I take requests for them too
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Mean Girlfriend
Request: Hiiii could you do a Hollandxsister where Sam is dating a girl who doesn't like Yn and insults her when no one is around?
Sam Holland x sister!reader
Summary: Sam's girlfriend isn't as nice as she seems.
Warnings: swear words, rude/mean comments, sam being a bad brother for part of this, some soft holland sibling moments though
a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!
(gif not mine)
Sam was bringing his girlfriend over for the first time since he started dating her about two months ago. She's met Nikki, Dom, and Harry, but hasn't had a chance to meet the other three yet.
Y/N is setting the table while Nikki finishes up dinner with Harry helping her. The front door opens and Sam walks in, his girlfriend right behind him, their hands latched together.
"Hey, guys." Sam greets, him and his girlfriend making their way to where everyone is in the kitchen. "This is Blair. Blair, that's Tom, Paddy, and Y/N. And you remember my parents and Harry."
"Of course I do. Lovely to see you all again." Blair tells the parents and twin, a sickening sweet smile on her face. "And it's great to meet you all." She sends polite smiles to the other three siblings.
"Nice to meet you." Tom nods in greeting.
"Hi." Y/N waves.
"It is great to see you again, Blair." Nikki smiles. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Oh, uh, just a water right now, please." Blair says.
Nikki gets her a glass of water and everybody eventually ventures off. Harry drags Sam away to show him something, leaving only Blair and Y/N in the kitchen.
"I like your bracelet." Y/N says, trying to start a conversation.
"Thanks." Blair mutters, slightly rolling her eyes.
"So, uh, Sam says you met--"
"Do you always talk this much?" Blair cuts her off.
"Uh... sometimes." Y/N awkwardly chuckles. "I've barely even said anything, though."
"Well, you've said more than enough. No need to be a motormouth." Blaire remarks.
"Right. Sorry." Y/N mumbles, looking down at her hands.
"So sensitive." Blair sighs, walking out of the kitchen.
Y/N stares after her confused, wondering what she did wrong. Maybe the girl's just in a bad mood.
"Hey." Y/N turns to find Sam walk in. "Where's Blair?"
"Oh, uh, she just left. I think she went outside." Y/N informs.
"Okay. Do you like her?" Sam asks.
"Um..." Y/N trails off, not sure what to say. "Yeah. Yeah, she, uh... she seems nice." Y/N forces a smile. She's going to give Blair the benefit of the doubt, even though she's not sure if she should. Besides Sam seems happy and that's what's important.
"Great." Sam giddily smiles and Y/N's smile becomes slightly more genuine seeing her older brother happy. "You wanna go out there?"
"Uh, no. I'm... I'm just gonna stay in here. It's been a busy day, bit of quiet time would be cool." Y/N lies. All she's done today is sit around and watch TV.
"Okay." Sam nods. He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before practically dashing outside.
"You haven't done jackshit all day." Y/N jumps at the voice at the other twin.
"Jesus, Harry!" Y/N exclaims.
"I'm just saying. You've had plenty of quiet time today." Harry says.
"Being lazy isn't a quiet day." Y/N retorts.
"Well, it hasn't been a busy day. And I don't recall us getting on your nerves." Harry says.
"You're on them now." Y/N fires back.
Harry studies her, sensing something's wrong, but decides to leave it for later. He pinches her cheek before going outside.
At dinner that night, Blair was the sweetest she could be. All smiles and full of manners. She acted like she hadn't spoken the rude words. Y/N supposes they weren't that rude, but they still weren't something you really say to someone.
"I'm gonna drive Blair home." Sam announces.
"Okay, drive safe. It was wonderful seeing you, Blaire. Hope to see you again soon." Nikki warmly smiles at the girl.
"Oh, yes! I would love that." Blair gushes, hugging the woman. Everybody bids goodbyes, Y/N sitting at the bottom of the stairs.
"Bye." She calls as Sam walks outside, Blair being the only one around.
"You eat like a teenage boy and it's disgusting." Blair states.
"Well, I was raised with four of them." Y/N fires back, a sardonic smile on her face. Blair rolls her eyes, leaving.
- - -
Ever since that dinner, Blair comes over a lot more often... much to Y/N's disdain. Anytime the two are alone, Blair takes as many jabs at the Holland girl as she possibly can. But when somebody's around, she acts as if they're best friends and has done no wrong in life. Y/N absolutely hates it and isn't sure how her brothers don't see through the nice act.
Y/N wants to speak up, but she also wants Sam to be happy. And she's also not sure if anybody would even believe her.
Y/N is leaning against Tom's side as they sit on the couch in the living room and watch New Girl. They turn when they hear footsteps, seeing Sam and Blair walk in.
"Hey." Sam greets.
"Hi." Blair smiles.
"Hey. Hi, Blair." Tom waves.
"Hi." Y/N mutters, quickly turning her attention back to the TV. Sam sits next to her and Blair is on the other side of him.
"Ooh, I love this episode." Sam whispers.
"Don't you love all episodes?" Tom chuckles.
"Yeah, but this is one of my favorites." Sam says.
"Aren't they all basically you're--"
"Shut up, Tom." Sam cuts his brother off, making both of his siblings laugh.
"Sam, could you go get a beer?" Blair sweetly asks.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure." Sam says. "I'll get us all some snacks too." He offers, getting up. "Tom? Help?"
"Yeah." Tom gets up, Y/N whining when she falls onto the couch. "Sorry, Y/N/N. Personal heater is taking a break." Tom says, mockingly saluting her as he follows Sam into the kitchen.
"Are you always so clingy?" Blair wonders.
"What's it to you?" Y/N grumbles.
"I just think it's a bitchy thing to be clingy." Blair says.
"Where did I ask for your opinion?" Y/N bites, glaring at the older girl who glares right back.
"You know, if you weren't such a little shit, maybe more people would like you." Blair hisses.
"I'm an introvert. People not liking me is the dream." Y/N says, just to piss the blonde off.
Blair rolls her eyes, but before she can retort, the brothers make their return. Tom tosses a pack of Oreos at Y/N who barely manages to catch it.
"You could take somebody's eye out with that, you know?" Y/N says.
"But I didn't, did I?" Tom smiles at her. She sticks her tongue out at him and he reciprocates the action before sitting down next to her again.
- - -
It's been a few months since Blair first met the whole family and the secret verbal abuse towards Y/N has gotten under the girl's skin much more. At first, Y/N would always just brush the blonde's words off and fire back comments as best she could.
But over time, Y/N started getting less annoyed and more angry and hurt by the words that Blair would say to her. She didn't want to be affected by them, but they do and she hates that they do.
Y/N tried to talk to Sam about it, but he just brushed her off and defended Blair.
Now, the family of seven -- plus Tessa -- and Blair are all at the Holland household and enjoying the nice weather outside in the backyard.
Nikki, Dom, Harry, and Tom are sitting at the table, Tom talking about the new movie he's going to be in. Sam, Blair, and Paddy are sitting on chairs as Paddy talks about stuff happening at school. Y/N is sitting on the other side of the yard and shooting hoops, mostly out of boredom.
Y/N is simply minding her business when Blair makes her presence known.
"You know, being antisocial isn't very polite." Blair says. She keeps the sweet smile on her face so the others don't think anything of it.
"Being a bitch close to hearing distance? Getting risky, are we?" Y/N questions.
"I'm not being a bitch. I'm simply stating facts. You're antisocial and rude and a bitch and ugly and a terrible sister to your brothers. I mean, nobody in their right mind would ever love something that looks like you."
Y/N's jaw clenches, but she's unable to contain the anger that's been building up for months. Y/N throws the basketball at Blair, but she catches it, smirking.
"Have to do better than that, sweetheart." Blair says in a condescending tone. "You probably can't even put up a fight. You're too weak and tiny.
"I grew up with four brothers. Trust me, I can handle a fight." Y/N says.
"Sure you can." Blair says sarcastically.
Y/N tries to hold back, but before she's able to register it, her fist is colliding with Blair's face. The blonde lets out a noise of shock, dropping the basketball, a hand flying to her face.
"You psycho bitch!" Blair exclaims, slapping Y/N across the face. Y/N coldly chuckles, glaring at Blair. The rest of the family look over just as Y/N attacks Blair, the two starting to hit and tear at each other.
The rest of the Hollands rush over, attempting to break the fight up. Tom and Paddy try to drag Y/N off while Sam and Harry pull on Blair.
"Girls, girls!" Nikki tries to yell over the shouts and screams.
Eventually Tom is able to yank Y/N away as the twins hold Blair back.
"Enough!" Dom bellows, getting everybody to stop. "That's enough." He says in a calmer but still stern voice.
Blair takes a deep breath.
"I'm gonna, uh... I'm gonna go assess my injuries." Blair says, hurrying off inside. Tom keeps an arm around Y/N in case she decides to pounce. Once she's in, Sam turns to Y/N with a glare on his face.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" He questions.
"Sam--" Nikki starts.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with your bitch girlfriend?!" Y/N retorts.
"Don't call her a bitch! You're the one who started a whole fist fight." Sam states.
"Because she's been talking shit about me since the moment she met me!" Y/N informs earning an eye roll from Sam.
"God, stop being so jealous." Sam rolls his eyes.
"Sam." Tom warns, knowing whatever is said between either of them is probably going to be regretted later on.
"Jealous?!" Y/N shrieks. "I am not jealous!"
"Yes! Yes, you are! Look, I'm sorry I don't have as much time for you as I used to, but that doesn't mean you can ruin my relationship!" Sam shouts.
"I'm not trying to ruin anything! I'm trying to tell you about how she's not how she seems!" Y/N yells back.
"Could you just be happy for me for once?! Just let me be happy!"
Y/N looks at him with teary eyes, slightly glaring at him.
"Mate, come on." Harry whispers.
Y/N bats Tom's arm away from her, going for the house.
"Wait. Darling, wait!" Tom calls.
"Fuck off!" Y/N yells, going inside, the door slamming shut behind her.
"Both of them need to apologize to each other. Now. You and her too." Nikki orders Sam. The boy silently nods and his parents head inside.
Once it's just the four of them, Paddy slaps Sam on the chest.
"What the fuck was that?" Paddy asks.
"What?" Sam asks.
"She's not jealous. Have you ever known Y/N to lie?" Harry asks.
"To get stuff she wants, sometimes, yeah." Sam says.
"Yeah, like when she was little and wanted a cookie or something. She wouldn't lie about something that would effect any of our feelings." Tom says.
"Exactly. She cares too much." Paddy states.
"Whatever. I'm gonna go check on my girlfriend." Sam says, shoving past them.
"Yeah, because she's much more important than your sister!" Harry sarcastically yells out.
- - -
Y/N is lying in bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, dry tear stains on her cheeks. There's a knock on her door.
"Go away!" Y/N calls out.
The person behind the door just opens it, the girl turning to see Tom, Harry, and Paddy.
"I said go away." Y/N mutters, turning back around to face her wall.
"Here." Tom holds out two ice packs. "Your cheek and your hand. You both got each other pretty good." He says.
"Thanks." She mumbles, taking the ice packs. She puts one to her swollen cheek and holds the other to her knuckles.
"Look, we're on your side." Harry tells her.
"Thanks." Y/N quietly says.
Tom leans over and kisses her on the head, resting his chin on her arm to get a better look at her face, wincing when he sees the tear stains.
"I'm sorry about both of them." Tom quietly says. "I'll knock some sense into Sam, I promise." Y/N lightly smiles and Tom squeezes her arm comfortingly before leaving. Harry pats her leg before following Tom out.
Paddy doesn't leave, instead sitting on the bed and making himself comfortable, even turning the TV on.
"What are you doing?" Y/N asks.
"Not letting you be alone. Also if I see Sam, I might just punch him in the face. And I'm sure he's not coming in here." Paddy says.
- - -
A few days later, Y/N is on the couch and watching TV. Her, Sam, and Blair were forced to apologize to each other the other day, even though the three knew that none of them meant it.
The front door opens, but Y/N tunes whoever it is out, not in the mood to care. However, that soon changes when Blair walks into the living room.
"God, you're allowed back here?" Y/N asks.
"Hmm." Blair smiles. "Guess your family likes me more than you."
"No. Sam likes you more. But he's outnumbered." Y/N grins.
"If you weren't such a psychotic bitch, none of this would even be happening." Blair says.
"I'm the psychotic bitch?" Y/N asks.
"Yes. You hit me, remember?"
"Because you constantly insult anything and everything about me."
"Well, maybe you should look and act better. I mean, really?" Blair motions to Y/N's cropped shirt and shorts that only go a few inches down her thighs, but they're long enough to cover her butt. "You call those pajamas? You look like a fucking slut."
"What'd you just say?" The girls turn to find Sam in the entry way with two beers in hand.
"I, uh... I'm... well, she started it." Blair accuses. Y/N rolls her eyes.
"Even if she did start something, that doesn't mean you have a right to call her a slut." Sam says.
"Well-- I mean, isn't she, though?" Blair asks, making the eyes of both Hollands pop out of their sockets.
"No. No, you are not going to talk to or about my little sister that way." Sam declares, putting the beers on the coffee table.
"Okay, but really? Come on, Sammy. You wanna defend that thing?" Blair asks, motioning back to the girl on the couch.
""That thing" has a name and it's Y/N. And she's a much better person than you are." Sam says.
"Come on, Sam. You are always calling her annoying and complaining about her." Blair says.
"A. it's not always, it's happened maybe three or so times. And B. she's my sister. Only me and our brothers are allowed to do so. Nobody else. And we would never call her that." Sam declares.
"Sammy--"
"No. No, we're done. Get out." Sam orders.
"What? Come on, babe."
"No! Get the fuck out of this house!" Sam yells. "We're through!"
"Are you serious?" Blair asks.
"Extremely." Sam nods.
Blair turns to Y/N with a cold glare.
"Fuck you." Blair seethes.
"Don't talk to her. Get out." Sam demands, dragging Blair to the door and kicking her out. Sam sighs, leaning his forehead against the door, softly hitting it with his fist. "Damnit." He whispers to himself.
Sam trudges back into the living room, Y/N back to watching the TV. Sam goes over and sits on the coffee table facing her.
"I'm a complete and utter idiot." Sam states.
"Oh. Look who finally came to his senses." Y/N sardonically smiles.
"Look, I... I don't deserve it and I understand if you don't want to, but hopefully one day you forgive. I... I'm very, very sorry. I-- I should've believed you from the jump. You're my little sister, it's always you over a girl I've known for a few months. And I know you wouldn't make up something like that. And I'm sorry for everything I said the other day. I've been a massive dick."
"You're not gonna hear me disagreeing." Y/N tells him.
"I'm really sorry. I will do anything to make it up to you. Anything. Paint your nails, get you food, clean your room, whatever." Sam offers.
"Anything? Really?" Y/N asks.
"Well... I mean, not technically anything. Because I'm not going to endanger anybody or anything like that." Sam says.
"Get my pint of ice cream out of the freezer." Y/N says and Sam practically dashes into the kitchen. He soon returns with the pint and a spoon, giving them to Y/N.
"Thank you." She says, taking them and Sam nods. He sits on the couch by her feet. Sam takes sips of his beers as Y/N starts to eat her ice cream.
"You know... I was letting you be happy." Y/N says, breaking the silence between them.
"What?" Sam asks, looking over at her.
"The other day... you asked me to just let you be happy. That's what I was doing. It's why I let it go on for months." Y/N says.
"I'm sorry." Sam frowns, feeling terrible.
"I know you are. And I... mostly forgive you. But you're still waiting on me hand and foot until I say so." Y/N says.
"I deserve that." Sam agrees and Y/N grins.
Taglist: @glxwingrxse @peyton-14 @venomsvl
#sam holland#sam holland x sister reader#sam holland x sister!reader#tom holland#harry holland#paddy holland#holland!sister
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Just a glance masterlist
SUMMARY:
Who would have thought that walking a dog would change a life?
A winter evening like any other, but a different feeling, as if your heart wanted to show you something that would change your life.
Has that day finally arrived?
Maybe it is …
WARNINGS : soft!tom Holland x reader , boyfriend!tom Holland , girlfriend!reader, fem reader , dom!tom holland , innocent!reader, soulmate
!Part 1
#tom holland#tom Holland boyfriend#tom holland reader#boyfriend#tom holland smut#soft boy#fem reader#reader innocent#soulmates#soft fic#soft girl#tom fanfic#peter parker#peter x reader#soft thoughts#soft theme#hard thoughts
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tom holland
⇢ masterlist
⇢ join my tag list
⇢ requests: open!
⇢ ✘ means smut!! (18+)
⇢ (r) means it was a request!
~
➪ one shots: (oldest to newest)
✘ princess’s orders [bodyguard!tom] (r)
↳ summary: on the night of your 18th birthday, forbidden feelings are admitted and stars are seen. even though you can’t be together for the future, that can’t stop you from living in the present.
✘ fireball [dark!tom] (r)
↳ summary: the cops get called at a party you didn’t want to go to, but luckily, tom takes you to somewhere safe and sound where no one can hear you.
✘ rough-up [dom!tom] (r)
↳ summary: tom overhears you say that he’s never made you come. shocked, he becomes determined to make it happen.
✘ come back…be here [famous!tom] (r)
↳ summary: tom has to film a movie in london while you have to stay and work in new york.
✘ prank? more like spank [soft dom!tom] (r)
↳ summary: you to prank your boyfriend tom that you got a vaginal piercing. once you break the news, he has to see for himself.
✘ green and gold [famous!best friend!tom] (r)
↳ summary: tom invites you to the brothers trust charity event that you didn’t really want to go to. when tom confronts your distance, years of pent-up feelings are unraveled along with some clothes to make up for all the time you lost.
✘ the list [frat!tom] (r)
↳ summary: your partner leaves in an emergency, leaving you alone at the frat house. thinking it’s just you, you decide to snoop through tom’s belongings to try to find his rumored list.
✘ free session [gym!tom] (r)
↳ summary: when tom finally comes back to the gym after being hurt, you decide to show him what a free session is all about.
✘ man-handled [mafia!tom]
↳ summary: you get a little caught up in your boyfriend’s muscly arms and can’t help but imagine what it would be like if he man-handled you.
~
➪ blurbs: (oldest to newest)
✘ glory girl [soft dom!tom]
✘ soaked bikini [light spanking] (r)
✘ sunday morning [eating tom’s ass] (r)
✘ sunday morning (remix) [tom eating pussy] (r)
✘ talkative [ceo!tom] (r)
✘ rider [non-specific] (r)
✘ sick [boyfriend!tom] (r)
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Tom’s One Red Flag - Tom Holland X Reader
Warning: Angst, cursing, Tom’s dad
Summary: Tom’s GF!Reader only ever saw one red flag when it comes to Tom. His dad (using Tom’s fame for his own agenda without offering real support). Will they be able to keep pushing through when this glowing red flag begins waving between them?
“Tom please don’t turn this into an argument” I sigh, already starting to regret bringing up my concern. “Don’t make this an argument. Bloody hell y/n then why would you say that?” Tom argues, standing up from the table. “Because I’m worried about you Tom” I whisper. “Worried about me? That’s why you insult my family?!” He shakes his head. I frown, maybe I went about this all wrong.
-Several months before-
“Darling, can we move our date night to Friday?” Tom asks, peeking his head around the doorframe. I look up from my computer and nod with a soft smile, “sure”. “You’re the best love” he kisses my cheek and closes the door as he shouts something down the hall. Normally, I’d be bummed he was postponing our date night by a few days but given his family is over I presume it has to do with them so I’m not mad. Between his filming and my job, we don’t get to spend much time with our families meaning we have to maximize it as much as we can. In fact, I should stop working and go visit.
“Okay perfect, when can you come by to record?” Dominic, Tom’s dad asks. I reach into the cupboard to grab a mug but can’t reach the one I want even on my tiptoes. I grunt and wiggle my fingers aimlessly in the air under the mug as someone laughs softly. I lower myself until I’m standing on the bottoms of my feet again and turn around. Harry smirks and shakes his head, “need some help?”. I sigh and nod. He laughs as he steps forward to grab it for me. “Hey Baz, what’re they talking about?” I ask, my attention turning to my boyfriend and his dad in our living room.
“Oh… our father wants Tom to record some audio for him for his new podcast and book” Harry says, setting the mug down. I scrunch my nose, “a book and podcast?” “Yeah, that’s what I hear. It is actually kind of about Tom I think. We’re you wanting tea?” Baz asks, already starting the water. I nod absentmindedly and bite my lip to control my facial reactions as I think to myself.
The whole Holland family is great and Tom is absolutely fantastic but I can’t help but get the sense his dad is using Tom’s fame for himself. It makes me uncomfortable but I don’t know how to bring it up to Tom, they are so close. I also don’t want to talk it over with his brothers and start issues either. “You okay there?” Someone says as I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin around and see Sam staring at me concerned. “Oh hi, yes sorry. Just spacing off” I mumble, a fake smile pasted onto my face. “This should help” Harry says, handing me my mug, this time full of tea. I smile and thank him before heading to the living room.
Tom and his brothers are laughing as Paddy shakes his head in embarrassment. “I thought it was great” I encourage and Nikki gives me a kind smile. Paddy thanks me and just as Sam is about to say something else, Dom cuts in. “Right, well let’s get back to the important topic of when you can record”. I turn to face him, unsure who he is talking to given we were discussing Paddy’s latest TV Ad he was acting in. Tom nods, “like I said, y/n and I will go out Friday instead so your recording is done on time”. That’s why he moved our date?
“Wait, what?” I ask before I can even stop myself. “Love” Tom says, grabbing my hand softly, “I came into the home office to ask you”. I nod, “no, I realize that. I just didn’t realize it was so you could record some audio for your dad”. Dom nods, “ahh yes, well y/n see it is very important. Tom is the center of this and therefore getting his audio is crucial. The readers, or listeners if you will, will want to hear from him too”. I purse my lips to not roll my eyes at him attempting to mansplain this to me. Tom is staring at me confused so I force a tight nod and excuse myself.
“Y/n/n that was sort of rude” Tom says, coming over to dry off a dish after saying goodbye to his family. “What? I already said my goodbyes” I argue, scrubbing another plate from dinner. “You hardly spoke at all during dinner and before that you reacted funny when we were talking about my recording session with my father” he sighs, grabbing the next plate. “Tom, you didn’t tell me why you needed to move the date. I thought it was for family stuff” I explain.
“It is love, I’m going to be with my dad” he says, turning to face me. I sigh and set the last plate down before washing my hands. “Tom” I say, turning to face him as I dry my hands, “he is using you to sell this podcast and book”. Tom’s eyes go wide, “no he’s not. Plus it isn’t a podcast and book, it is just an audio recording for the same book”. I sigh, well at least it is only one thing. For now… Dom always seems to find something else to use Tom for.
“Tom” I sigh, setting down the dish towel. “Love, I appreciate the concern, but it isn’t needed” Tom says, kissing my cheek as he steps to the side. “I’m going to make the bed and then take a quick shower. I have to shoot some photos with Baz tomorrow for the book” he adds, walking towards our bedroom. Of course he does.
-December 2021-
“Hey babe, what time are your parents landing?” I ask, running my hand down my gown for this evening as I get my preparations completed. “Oh, they’re not” Tom says, sighing as he enters the room. “Why not? They always come to your premieres” I tell him, stunned. “Yeah, but you know mum and her flight anxiety, she won’t fly without my dad” he says, shrugging but I can tell it’s bothering him.
“Tommy, this is a big event! It is even closer to them this time than normal. Why isn’t your dad coming?” I ask, trying to not roll my eyes as I think about the man responsible for Tom’s disappointment. He’s honestly always been a bit of a red flag when it comes to being with Tom. Honestly, Dom is probably Tom’s only red flag. But Tom doesn’t see it; which only makes it worse. And anytime I try to bring it up, I become the bad guy. But tonight is a HUGE deal for Tom.
“He said he has to do some stuff with the book” he says, setting his phone down and laying on the bed. I sigh, “really? The book is about you and he wants you to do the audio for the audiobook but he can’t even come tonight to support you?!”. I throw my arms out to the side in exacerbation. “I know how you feel about this book thing darling but I’m fine, really, as long as I’ve got you” he whispers, eyes closed but I can tell he’s upset.
I sigh and crawl onto the bed and lay down with my head on his chest and fingers in his hair. I know tonight’s not the night to press him about this, I want him to have a good time. This shouldn’t even be something he has to worry about. I know Nikki has bad travel anxiety so I understand her excuse but Dom’s is inexcusable. Tom had worked himself sick for this movie and Dom won’t even show up for the premiere despite Tom and I paying for it all for them. “I’m always going to be here for you handsome” I assure him. If only the same thing could be said about his dad.
-June 1, 2022-
I smile to myself as I scroll through Instagram and read all of the posts from friends, family, and fans about Tom’s birthday. Tom’s asleep on my chest and I’m about to fall asleep myself but wanted to read more of the sweet posts I may have missed earlier today while we were out celebrating his 26th birthday. I rewatch Nikki’s post and giggle as if watching it for the first time again.
My precious boyfriend was the freaking cutest baby. I smile down at him and brush his hair off his face. Although, I’ve got to say, he’s still pretty cute now too. I shake my head and turn back to my phone prepared to lock it for the night when realization hits me. I didn’t see Dom post today.
I shift slightly as to not wake Tom but still being in desperate need of my other hand to type. I glare at my phone as I angrily type in Dom’s username. Certainly I must’ve missed his post about Tom’s birthday, right? I mean I don’t care for the guy but he wouldn’t miss his birthday… right?
I smile softly upon seeing the most recent post on his is a photo of him and Tom. He must’ve posted after all! My smile is quickly replaced by and audible gasp as my jaw drops upon reading the caption. “Darling?” Tom whispers, tilting his head in an adorable manner to look at me. I sigh, upset to have woken him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. “Your dad didn’t post about your birthday” I say, but it comes out kind of like a question. “He did” Tom argues. “Tom that doesn’t count, he barely said anything and it was more book promotion” I say, livid that it is so clear but still being ignored by Tom as if I’m crazy. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, I’m good” he shrugs, laying back down to rest again.
I sigh as I consider what he said and decide to read it again. It starts fine with “ It being June 1st” but goes to crap right after. “ the day #Eclipsed began (26 yrs ago)” Are you joking me?! That’s what was important about today and this day 26 years ago?! Not the fact that your son Tom was born?!
I grind my teeth but push on. “Here’s a timely clip of the forthcoming audio book ‘Tom is the business’ “ Tom is the business? Seriously Dom?! Tom is your bloody son you ass! And he’s a great son at that! Oh but look how nice, he ended it with “Happy birthday Tom”, sure Dom that’s how parents post about their children on their birthday; not. Oh and of course, he needed to add #tomholland & #tomhollandbirthday to the end in order to get more attention on the post. I need to talk to Tom about this again, not tonight on what few minutes remain of his birthday, but soon.
-June 19, 2022-
“Are you sure he liked them?” Tom asks, biting his nail. I sigh and softly pull his hand down from his mouth, “Tom, I’m sure your dad loved his Father’s Day gifts” I assure him. “But he hasn’t said anything” he adds, starting to pace. “Tom babe, maybe he’s busy with Paddy” I say knowing Sam’s away for work and Tom and Harry are here in New York for Tom’s TV show.
“He’s not, he just posted to Instagram” Tom frowns. He what? No, y/n breathe, it could be a Father’s Day post about all his sons. It probably isn’t, but it could be. I quickly grab my phone at the same time as I stand to stop Tom from pacing. “One sec” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder and blocking his path. Tom lowers his head until it’s resting on my shoulder. I kiss the back of his head and open Instagram, anger rising as I see Dom’s post at the top of my feed.
It’s not about Father’s Day (other than “not only is it Father’s Day”). Instead, as to be expected, Tom is tagged and referenced in it for promotion. He can’t send a simple thank you text to Tom or addressing Tom’s texts at all so Tom doesn’t have his guilt eating away at him for not being able to be there (even though he apologized a million times and offered to celebrate virtually from NY) or being worried his excessive amount of expensive and extravagant gifts for Dom weren’t enough. But he has time to post on social media and not even mentioning that Tom made him able to celebrate Father’s Day in the first place, nor any mention of him at all except for promotional means; nor did he mention his other sons!
I toss my phone behind me onto the bed, hopefully anyways, but I don’t care. I softly pull Tom’s face back to look him in the eyes. His eyes are red and puffy which breaks my heart even more. “Baby, you don’t have to be upset. Clearly he’s not upset, he could post about his damn book” I say and Tom shakes his head, “don’t, it’s not about that”. “Tom, he didn’t mention you boys at all” I sigh. “I don’t care” he argues, but it’s clear he’s lying. “I just want to know if he liked the presents” he sighs. I decide not to press the issue.
“ I’m sure he loved the gifts, maybe after your shoot today we can try and FaceTime him hmm?” I ask, knowing I’ll need to call Nikki instead if I actually want Tom to be able to speak with him. Not that I want Tom to but it’s his dad and I know it would make Tom feel better and that’s all I’m worried about presently. Tom nods and hugs me as more tears fall. Why can Dom not just show Tom love instead of using him?
-5 minutes before argument-
“Tom can you grab the empty popcorn bowl from last night please?” I ask as I load the dishwasher. “Of course love” Tom says, walking to the living room. “Oh, by the way can we push back date night?” He asks, handing me the bowl. I frown but nod, “sure, why?”. “My father wants to-“ he begins but I don’t even hear the rest as my anger takes over.
“Seriously Tom?!” I groan, locking the dishwasher and facing him. His eyes go wide, “what?”. “You keep postponing dates because you are working on the stupid book” I say and my voice gets higher as I recall the last six date nights he’s postponed; half of which ended up fully canceled due to schedule changes with recording. “It’s not a stupid book” he glares, “plus, it’s about me”. “Yeah because he doesn’t have anything else to write about that’s decent and this way he can use you” I defend and lower my voice, “Tom he’s not being a father, he’s manipulating you into promoting his book”.
Tom crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at me. “Tom, say something. I’ve been trying to discuss this with you for months” I sigh. “This isn’t a discussion y/n this is stupid” he yells. I take a step back, he never yells at me. “Tom please don’t turn this into an argument” I sigh, already starting to regret bringing up my concern. “Don’t make this an argument. Bloody hell y/n then why would you say that?” Tom argues, standing up from the table. “Because I’m worried about you Tom” I whisper. “Worried about me? That’s why you insult my family?!” He shakes his head. I frown, maybe I went about this all wrong.
-current-
I shake my head in response to my self doubt. I didn’t handle this wrong. He did. Each time I tried to talk about it he shut me down. “I’m not insulting your family Tom. I love Nikki and your brothers, and your grand-“ I begin, but he cuts me off. “But not my dad” he says, glaring at me.
I sigh, “it’s not that I hate him exactly Tom. I mean he might not realize what he’s doing. After all you don’t”. Tom rolls his eyes at me, “oh piss off y/n. You couldn’t care less. You’re just mad I’m choosing this over date night. Can you blame me though? You’re not exactly enjoyable to be around with all this nagging”. My sight gets blurry as my eyes instantly fill with tears. “Y/n, love, I-“ Tom begins, grabbing my hand. I shake my head, pulling my hand from his and I stumble as I back away.
“Love please, I didn’t mean that” Tom says, his voice cracking at the end. “Go to Hell Tom. All I tried to do was protect you from getting hurt over and over” I say, blindly walking to our shared bedroom. “I know. I know, and I’m truly sorry I” he begins as I grab my suitcase. “W-where are you going?” He asks in a near whisper.
“I’m not going to keep doing this anymore Tom. It’s been months of me watching you be hurt by him and me being the bad guy for mentioning it. This was the final straw. It’s always going to be him. I know he’s your dad and I was never asking you to choose. I just wanted you to try to see what I was saying but instead you insult me to defend him” I say, tears pouring down my face as I shove a crumpled mess of clothes into my bag.
“Please, we can work this out. We’ve been together for years, it doesn’t have to end like this. I’ll make it up to you” he pleads as I zip my bag. I wipe my face and turn to him, almost breaking down at the site of his tear soaked face staring back at me. “Tom there shouldn’t be anything to work out. I won’t have you keep postponing only to cancel completely when things change with him. I won’t sit by while he uses you and not say anything. I won’t, I- I can’t Tom; it physically hurts” I whimper, setting my bag on the ground and pulling up the handle. “You know, I always said he seemed to be your one red flag Tom. I just never realized how right I was” I sigh, stepping around him and out of the room.
Tag list: @justapurrcat | if you want to be added to my taglist please lmk💕
#tom holland x reader#tom holland#my writing#Tom holland angst#tom holland one shot#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fic
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The Submission Rule's
https://archiveofourown.org/works/49708531
by tomhollanderfandom
Tony Stark is a 42 years old dom with two son's. His eldest son Harley ,is a 18 year old Dom and heir to the company and his youngest son Peter , is a 14 year old newly presented sub . The world rule's are against the sub's. Tony loves both his son but he has a soft spot for his youngest child , Peter .
This story is based on Peter's journey as a sub and how his father and brother will react to his identity . The tags will change with each chapter.
Words: 2067, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Categories: Multi
Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Harley Keener
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Dom Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Harley Keener, Sub Peter Parker, Soft Parent Tony Stark, Collars, Leashes, Ankle Cuffs, Light Bondage, Gags, Blindfolds, Crying, Peter Parker is a Mess, Dom/sub, Alternate Universe, Sick Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Rich Tony Stark, Bottom Peter Parker, Top Harley Keener, Top Tony Stark, No Incest
read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49708531
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So! When I saw you had posted a Stranger Things fic, I was so excited. But I hadn't had the opportunity to watch season 4 yet. I literally just finished it like an hour ago. (Sobbed my fucking eyes out, of course.) And the first thing I did after was read your Steddie fic. I LOVED IT! I haven't read any ST fics before but since I love your writing so much, I knew you'd do the characters justice, and you absolutely did. Love soft!Dom!Eddie and Steve needing to be taken care of because he just can't stop. Feels very in character for them, honestly. I hope you decide to write more of them, and I will absolutely read anything you do!! 💜💜💜
Aw thank you! I’m always extremely crippling NERVOUS posting in a new fandom and up until posting it I’d avoided stranger things fics partly cos I just don’t read much fic but also because the show centers around teenagers and… well you know. Same reason why I don’t write Tom Holland centric fics. Would just rather steer clear of any character under 18.
BUT with the newest season Steve is officially and definitely out of highschool and while Eddie technically *isnt* out of highschool he’s like, twenty so I cautiously dipped my toes into the proverbial water and now I’m drowning hashtag send help
Or don’t send help I’m literally thrilled to be treading water in the hugely angsty soft pool or Steddie! I’m obsessed!!
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if you’re doing requests: can you do something with harry or tom where they are teasing you by barely touching you, you squirt all over their hand, and they’re just so sweet with you after? pls and thanks! <3
––clearing out my inbox–– (requests are closed)
i chose to do it w tom <3 don’t know how i feel about it but oh well
18+ stuff ya already know
after basically being denied all day, with only fleeting touches from tom as he walked past you, his hand trailing up and down your thigh as you sat next to him––you were extremely sensitive. every touch was sending you down a spiral, your mind only able to focus on the tingles spreading throughout your body with every touch of tom’s fingertips.
“t––tom please.” you were squirming on the bed as best you could with tom’s hand pressed against your hip, holding you down so he could tease you,
“mm what is it, love?” his voice was as soft as his touch, barely audible. “you know if you need something, you have to ask for it.”
you huffed, looking up at him, your eyes gently pleading. “want you to touch me.”
he smirked, his fingers still barely brushing against your slit. “i am touching you, darling.” you were almost dripping, your wetness visible through your folds, only barely catching on tom’s fingers as he grazed you.
you whined, your head falling back on the bed as you looked up at the ceiling, frustrated. “i mean properly.”
he licked his lips and slid two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp, the feeling spreading from your stomach down to your toes. “that better?”
you tried to catch your breath as your hips subtly rocked down into his touch. of course he noticed, but he decided to let it slide with how much he’d been torturing you. “y––yes thank you oh my god.”
tom tutted lightly, his fingers slowly pumping inside of you. “who are you thanking baby?”
“you––”
he brought his thumb to your clit, making you jolt and bite your lip. “and what’s my name sweetheart?”
you swallowed, trying to form words, your mind barely functioning. “thank––thank you tommy.”
“that’s my girl.” you could hear the smug smirk in his voice. he picked up the pace, his fingers quickly pumping in and out of you, curling against your spot, while his thumb rubbed your clit. “want you to cum for me princess, can you do that for me? think you deserve it, yeah?”
you nodded, licking your lips. “yes please please––” you were close, you could feel your blood pumping, your heart racing, your sweaty body sticking to the sheets beneath you, you could almost taste the sweet release. you could hear how wet you were, the small praises tom was whispering to you, and feel every part of you that he was touching. the combination of all of those things together pushed you over the edge as your eyes fluttered shut, your back arching as your mouth opened to let out a silent scream of relief.
your body sunk back into the sheets, but tom didn’t let up, even choosing to speed up his pace once more, his fingers repeatedly hitting against your spot, his other hand replacing his thumb and rubbing your bundle of nerves with his fingers.
you choked on your breath, body tensing, your mouth open, unable to warn tom as you felt the intense pressure quickly building up before snapping almost immediately. your legs were trembling and tom was looking down at you in awe as you drenched his hands and the sheets. your body seemed to curve and bend perfectly under him as you tipped over the edge again.
tom pulled his fingers out of you gently and brought his hand down to rub your pussy messily, spreading your wetness as your legs shook, your stomach clenching and unclenching before your hands came down to push him away, your legs closing weakly when it became too much.
you were panting, your eyes closed as tom watched you, licking his fingers clean. you could hear the obscene sounds, tom was not trying to be discrete at all. you whined and he laughed, spreading your legs gently. you opened your eyes and were about to complain but he shushed you, kissing your knee.
“just wanna see how messy my little pussy got, love.” he bit his lip, watching you clench around nothing, your pussy glistening from your own release. you could see his pupils blown, his eyes darkening as he took you in. he had to refrain himself from devouring your cunt, knowing it might actually make you pass out. he climbed over next to you and pulled you into him. you complied, your body weak, your mind free. “c’mere.” he kissed you gently, letting you taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, making you moan.
he held you closer, wrapping his arms around you and you slipped your leg between his as you turned to face each other fully. he pulled away after leaving a few quick kisses on your lips in succession. his hand caressed your cheek, soothing you. “did so good for me today, darling.”
you smiled, looking up at him with wide eyes that made him melt immediately. “really?”
“of course.” he stole another kiss, an adoring smile on his face. “my best girl.”
#queue tell em#really don't know how i feel about this#i wrote this after watching euphoria so i was barely even here sjkfhgjkf#tom holland#tom holland ask#tom holland blurb#tom holland smut#tom holland smut blurb#tom holland x reader#dom!tom holland#kinda#dom!tom holland blurb#dom!tom holland x reader#soft!dom!tom holland
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