Tumgik
#tom holland one shot
shawnxstyles · 9 months
Text
panty stealer 2
DATE: JULY 12, 2023
summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.
requested: so many times yes!
words: 11.2k!! woah
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff
note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again
Tumblr media
so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.
he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.
was that dramatic? maybe.
you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.
peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.
every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.
and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.
peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.
in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.
not much of a treat, huh?
outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.
flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.
knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.
you were becoming important to him, a priority.
he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.
ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.
the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.
after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.
like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.
for you.
peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.
you have got to be fucking joking.
your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.
god, he wanted to touch you so bad.
he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—
“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”
well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.
using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.
without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.
peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.
he came back.
“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”
“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.
“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.
“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”
“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.
“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.
“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”
peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.
“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.
“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.
“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”
close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.
his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.
who is peter parker?
fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.
“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.
“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.
your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.
“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.
your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.
without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.
although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.
peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.
“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.
“y/n.”
“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.
“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?
“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.
“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”
your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.
“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.
a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?
you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”
“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”
“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.
how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?
“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.
no time for beating around the bush.
“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.
“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.
“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.
“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.
“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”
“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.
he must live at the gym.
“you started talking about sex first!”
he’s not wrong.
“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”
your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.
“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”
just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.
“you have to go, don’t you?”
“i’m sorry—”
“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.
he is obsessed with kissing you.
however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.
“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”
you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.
a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.
“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.
ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.
you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.
not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.
“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.
you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…
“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.
you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.
those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.
you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.
you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.
at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.
you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.
without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.
violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.
“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”
“what? who said anything about a guy?”
“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”
“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.
“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.
not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.
“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.
“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”
“but the party is in–”
“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”
for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.
your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).
and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.
you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.
you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.
violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.
however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.
she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.
“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”
“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.
you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.
peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.
he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.
why would you?
peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?
you were moaning his name.
he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.
open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.
god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.
like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.
taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.
is that you? how did he miss you?
moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.
but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.
he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.
releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.
he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.
even though that’s all he really wants.
“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.
he nearly faints when he sees your costume.
short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.
maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…
“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.
“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”
there’s no dancing around it.
now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.
“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”
peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.
“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.
“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”
“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.
“you’re such an idiot.”
“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”
“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.
“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”
“superman is a great superhero—”
“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.
“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.
“nothing,” peter shrugs.
“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”
“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”
“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.
and just like that he’s in control.
“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.
“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.
“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.
“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.
“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.
following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.
but tonight everything is different.
unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.
looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.
peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.
he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.
“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.
“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.
“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”
“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”
“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”
“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.
“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”
“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.
why was it so much easier when he broke in?
he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.
“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.
“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.
“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.
“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.
“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.
when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.
your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.
you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.
when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.
“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”
just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?
after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.
“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.
“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.
so why are you nervous?
but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”
after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.
his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.
trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.
“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”
you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.
lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.
“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.
“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.
a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”
with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.
“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”
you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.
but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?
“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.
“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.
“do you care if i rip them?”
“what?”
“can i rip them?”
“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”
“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”
you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.
“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.
peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.
his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.
“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”
“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.
“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”
“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.
“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.
“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.
you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.
your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.
his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.
you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.
“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”
“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”
so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.
he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?
“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.
“yeah, just… thinking.”
“good or bad?”
“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.
“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.
“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”
you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.
“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.
“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?
“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”
“don’t think you’re really capable.”
“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.
as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.
you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.
“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.
“i-i can’t,” you whine.
“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,
“it’s too hard.”
“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”
peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.
“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”
you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.
“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”
“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.
before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.
he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.
the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.
peter hoped the same thing.
“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.
“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”
“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.
“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”
peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.
“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…
for another time.
his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.
“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.
“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”
“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”
“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”
“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”
the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.
peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.
“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.
“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”
“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.
“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.
“i would–”
“oh, there’s a but coming.”
“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.
he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.
peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.
once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.
“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”
although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.
his girl.
“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”
“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”
he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.
“what are you doing? come on!”
“what if they see me?”
“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.
it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.
you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.
you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.
“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.
“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”
“definitely.”
“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”
“uh… yeah. sorry.”
“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.
you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.
even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.
“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”
“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.
“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?
peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.
“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”
“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.
“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”
your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”
and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?
within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.
“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.
“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.
when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.
as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.
your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!
is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.
when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.
wait… love?
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.
note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!
taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @sylum @harrys-humble-housewife @blurazbabe @introverbatim @piperparker7 @graceberman3 @tommy-braccoli @fioooweeooweeeoo @conrad4life13
crossed out= not able to tag
2K notes · View notes
cherrycheridarling · 10 months
Text
slip up | t.h.
tom holland x famous!reader
warnings: none just fluff
summary: tom slips up on instagram live
wc: 335
a/n: missed u guys sorry abt my absence:(<3
Tumblr media
"That's a wrap for today! Go rest those vocal cords, Y/L/N." Toby, your producer bid you a farewell as you finished in the studio.
You nodded and hugged everyone goodbye before heading to your driver's car. It was at least midnight by the time you got back to your boyfriend's home that he shared with his best mates.
You and Tom had been dating for nearly a year and had done an impressive job of keeping your relationship away from prying eyes. With only a few suspicions here and there, the public saw you two as best friends and nothing more.
In his king sized bed, Tom was on Instagram live chatting with his fans. He needed a way to pass the time as he waited for you to come home from the studio.
"Why am I up so late? Jet lag sucks, guys." Tom lied to his fans.
He hasn't been on a plane in weeks.
"Is anyone in the house awake? Nope. They all sleep at, like, eleven or earlier. Party poopers." he frowned to the camera.
You quietly unlocked the front door, trying your best to not wake anyone in the house. Tiptoeing towards Tom's bedroom, you saw that his light was on, peeking out from under his door. With furrowed eyebrows you opened the door and saw him sitting against the headboard on his phone.
He smiled when he saw you, completely forgetting about his live, "Hi, darling. I missed you," he put his phone down and pecked your lips, "Did you get driven here?" you nodded, "You should've sent me a text," he picked up his phone and glanced at the screen, "I could've—" he froze.
You finished tying your hair up and looked at him with confusion written across your features. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong before he slapped a hand over your lips.
He looked at you with wide eyes, "I'm live on Instagram." he whispered.
You had to choke down a laugh because you knew the fans would recognize the sound immediately. You managed to peak at the screen without being in the cameras view and the comments had you struggling to keep your laughter down.
'HE HAS A GF???????'
'i'm gonna kms'
'WHO IS IT'
'no fucking way'
'PLS BE ZENDAYA'
'IM HYPERVENTILATING'
Tom opened and closed his mouth like a fish as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say. "Um, looks like I'll be going now. Thank you for joining and I'll see you all very soon." He had a sheepish grin as he spoke.
You smirked before speaking. "Bye guys." And pressed the button to end the live. Not waiting to see the reactions to your voice or if they would recognize it.
Tom wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you on top of him, "Cheeky one, you are." he placed a kiss on your forehead as you smiled into his chest.
1K notes · View notes
bonesandchalamet · 10 months
Text
a Monaco Grand Prix - t.holland
Tumblr media
masterlist
pairing: Tom holland x mercedes intern!fem!reader
warnings: some flirting + possible minor errors
a/n: inspired by the Monaco gp today! combining my love for Tom and formula 1 into this! if you like formula 1, you can find my sports masterlist on @thatsdemko 🥰
“you can’t just be nice and give him a tour?” your boss, Toto Wolff, gives you a glare that’s almost killer. one that you know will bite you in the ass, if you don’t just take the opportunity to show the famous celebrity around the paddock.
you know it’s part of your job. if you want your placement to be permanent, you’ll have to do whatever the boss says, and that being showing a famous prick around the Monaco paddock.
you nod, “I’ll do it.” you swallow the nervous jitters, as you turn out of the Mercedes hospitality to the one and only Tom holland making his way through media, other formula 1 interns, and press.
he’s headed to you with his security guards. a bright pearly white smile on his face as climbs the steps, hand extended, “ah you must be y/n! I was told you’d show me around.” his British accent brings warmth to your ears as it visibly spreads to your cheeks taking his hand in yours.
you’ve completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this in the first place. after having met the Tom holland, you’d do anything your boss asks you to do.
“right this way, Mr. Holland, let me show you our new and improved cars for this weekends race.”
each spot you took him to came with a variety questions and expression, god he was cute, was all you could think about. he was attentive and listened to your tidbits and nerdy jokes, he could tell you really loved your job and took formula 1 as serious as it was.
“and this is the Red Bull garage, legally I’m not allowed in there or else I’ll be reported for spying. but go on in, I’m sure Christian Horner would love to see you.” you gesture for the actor to step inside the garage and join the couple of other famous people you could see from where you stood.
as badly as he wanted to step in and have the cameras pointed on him, he didn’t mind keeping a lower profile and decline the offer to do so, “if you can’t go in then I definitely shouldn’t.” he laughs pulling out his phone to show you his Lewis Hamilton lockscreen, “I’d be murdered in there.”
“that makes two of us.” you giggle, pulling out your phone to show him the picture of you and Lewis on your first day. he’s a bit jealous as a claims, but you’re sure he’s had more opportunities to meet him than you have. considering you rarely see the drivers— except for Mick Schumacher.
“ah I’m hoping to get a picture with him like that too!” he carefully taps his finger against your screen to get another look at the picture; two of you smiling from ear to ear in Bahrain.
“I don’t have the privileges to get you to meet him, but considering your fame status? I’m sure by the end of this weekend you’ll see him more times than me.” you gesture for him to follow and he keeps up as you pass the McLaren, where Oscar piastri and lando norris are doing final placements.
“what if I want to see you more by the end of this weekend?” he asks, the words slipping off his tongue before he can filter them out. his hand flies over his lips; security guard chuckling at his intrusive thoughts winning. flirty words were easy for Tom, but he didn’t expect to find himself using a line on you this early on the tour.
you can feel the red hue quickly spread to your cheeks, it’s more noticeable than the last time he got your attention that way. he moved into your field of vision turning to face you, rather than the cars, “I mean I could always use a tour guide around Monaco?” he shrugs, hand finding the nape of his neck as he nervously plays with the hairs there.
“ask me when I’m off the clock, then legally I can answer.”
you thought he would’ve forgotten by now. it was hours after you gave him his own private tour of the paddock, and somehow? he was still there.
most people— fans, media, press, and other members of formula 1— had vacated the paddock following an early rise tomorrow for the big race, but not Tom. he’d stuck out waiting around, taking pictures with the few fans left, and even getting his picture with the infamous Lewis Hamilton.
“I see you finally got your picture.” you say as you make your way down those same hospitality steps to close the gap of where he stood off to the side.
“yeah, but I didn’t get that guaranteed tour of Monaco yet?”
“will I get paid by the end of the tour?” you raise an eyebrow watching his words stumble out of his mouth, words not even forming sentences you tripped him hard, “I’m joking, Tom, but I get off of work tomorrow late, so your tour will have to wait.”
he nods eager, but still slow enough to not show much of his excitement, “I can wait until then. I’ll find you here tomorrow evening?”
“deal, and I don’t take checks as a form of payment.”
699 notes · View notes
jahayla-parker · 8 months
Text
Crazed : Tom Holland x Reader
Descr: 8k wc, A crazed fan breaks into Tom's house when his girlfriend is home and she has to defend herself until Tom's security gets there.
Warnings: curse words, violence, stalker/crazy fan behavior, hostage situation, threats, danger, mentions of a break-in, (minor) injuries, hospital (brief), knife/blade, keys used as weapon.
Tumblr media
Y/n rubbed her boyfriend Tom’s shoulders as he pinched the bridge of his nose. She knew he was stressing out over the recent safety concerns that had arisen for the couple. Y/n knew that Tom would handle it; even before the multiple promises he made to do so. But, she still wanted to wipe the frown off his face as he called his security team.
They had recently been made aware that there was an… overzealous fan of Tom’s that posed a risk to the couple’s safety. Tom’s brother and personal assistant Harry, had noticed someone was following them one afternoon. They contacted Tom’s security team immediately and had them look into it.
Allegedly, when the security personnel asked the fan to stop following the couple, things escalated. The fan had made numerous comments that concerned Tom’s security. The first was the fan’s statement on how they were Tom’s one true love; not y/n. The second was when the same fan commented that y/n needed to learn her place and stay away from Tom. Then of course came the standard stalkerish fan remarks such as claiming she knew where the couple had been at any given moment, that she had a shrine of Tom with photos that no one else had seen as she’d taken them herself, and that she was in love with Tom and knew he’d come around and choose her.
It wasn’t like Tom had no former experience with overzealous fans. But this was on a whole other level. The fact that this fan made his own security concerned for y/n, made Tom panic. Between his team's and his own suggestions, Tom had ensured that they always had at least two security guards with them.
Tom felt guilty for having to limit their privacy even more than normal when going on dates, or whenever they simply left the house. But, he refused to let something happen to y/n. Which was why he had to call his security team again today.
Earlier today Y/n had gotten a call from an unknown number. She always ignored calls from unknown numbers. As such, y/n had let the call go to voicemail. However, when she checked her voicemail, y/n felt the same panic Tom had been experiencing.
The fan who Tom had been worried about for several weeks by then had somehow found y/n’s personal phone number. Y/n knew it wasn’t super rare for celebrities and their friends and family to have their personal information leaked. But, the message that the fan left was very troubling.
The girl had threatened to harm y/n if she didn’t break up with Tom. She even went so far as to show she had the address of y/n’s work; as ‘proof to take her seriously’. The fan also had the address of y/n’s last residence. Y/n and Tom began living together months ago. But, technically y/n’s old apartment was still in her name as the lease wasn’t up for another month and a half.
When y/n told Tom about the voicemail, he immediately asked her to play it for him. His fury and fear skyrocketed as he heard the passion behind the fan’s voice. He couldn’t believe this was happening to begin with, much less to this extent. Tom was adamant something had to be done, starting with calling his security and demanding increased protection for y/n.
“We need to increase y/n’s security,” Tom ordered immediately upon his lead security officer answering his call. He felt y/n rest her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm to try and calm him. Tom crooked his neck and placed a soft kiss to y/n’s head as he listened to his security guard’s response.
“No, you don’t understand,” Tom groaned, standing up from the couch. He began pacing their living room as he tried to keep himself in check. He couldn’t understand why his security wasn’t just listening to him. Y/n needed more security, immediately. “I’m going to send you something,” Tom said, pulling the phone from his ear just long enough to forward the threatening voicemail.
“Tommy,” y/n whispered as Tom put the phone back up to his ear as he waited on a response. She smiled warmly at him when he looked her way. Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “breathe please”.
Tom nodded in response to y/n’s request. He took a few deep breaths as he faintly heard the voicemail being played in the background. Tom hummed as he heard his security guard call for another officer to look into the voicemail. “See?” Tom asked in frustration, “she needs more security”.
Y/n watched as Tom nodded along to whatever his security was suggesting. She sighed in relief at seeing his lessening worry. She didn’t know what they were telling Tom, but it was helping. Y/n kissed Tom’s neck right under his earlobe as she waited for him to end the call and update her.
Tumblr media
“Tom, look, I know you’re worried, but-” y/n sighed. Tom wanted her to not go in to work today. To be fair, it was a suggestion from his security when he called them last night, but Tom jumped on board with the idea without hesitation.
Tom frowned. “You’re not going to stay home?” He asked, his voice sad and eyes worried. “Please?” Tom requested, squeezing y/n’s hand.
Y/n pursed her lips. “I have work, T,” she argued softly.
“I know,” Tom agreed. “And I’m sorry, I dragged you into this -".
Y/n shook her head, “no. This isn’t on you Tom. I’ve told you that”. She sighed, “but, that doesn’t mean I can just stay stuck at home all day every day until this...overzealous fan chills out”.
“Overzealous?!” Tom huffed. “Darling, she’s bloody crazy!” He exclaimed. “This isn’t some slightly obsessed fan, she’s insane and she wants to hurt you.”
Y/n bit her lip and nodded. He was right. The voicemail had truly scared her. And she knew Tom knew that. Even if he hadn’t already been protective before, he certainly would’ve become so upon seeing how much it freaked her out.
“Just for today?” Tom pleaded. “I’m already working on a more long-term solution,” he assured her.
Y/n sighed softly as she thought it over. She didn’t have a ton to do at work today, so perhaps it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Okay, if it will make you happy, I’ll stay home today,” she accepted.
Tom grinned and pulled y/n in for a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he gushed. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’ll try to come home for lunch, and-" Tom rambled.
Y/n giggled. She rubbed Tom’s chest as she leaned back. “Handsome, you don’t need to do that,” she smiled. “Just focus on your scenes and rest between them, we both know you haven’t been doing that much. Hmm?”.
Tom nodded, he’d been spending most of his time between takes and scenes getting on his security about finding out who this crazy fan was and doing whatever was needed to stop them. “Okay, but,” he replied, smiling, “I’m still going to call during my lunch and check-up”.
Y/n hummed lovingly, stroking Tom’s cheeks tenderly. “You have a deal, sweetheart.”
Tumblr media
“Okay, so, you’ll arm the security system after I leave?” Tom asked y/n.
Y/n nodded, “yes”.
“And, you have Jones’s number saved, right?” Tom wondered as he mentally made his way through his checklist. Jones was one of his security guards and Tom had requested that he be on call nearby in case something happened. Or if y/n simply felt scared that it could/would.
“Saved and set as a favorite for easy access,” y/n promised. She neared her boyfriend and set her hands on his shoulders. “Everything is in place honey.”
Tom took a shaky breath and nodded. He really didn’t want to leave her alone, but he had to go to set. He was nearly done with filming and then they’d be able to go wherever. Y/n had reminded him of that when he considered taking the day off. The sooner he was done, the sooner they could go back to Europe -for at least as long as it took until the fan was taken care of.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t anxious about y/n being home alone. But, at his security pointed out, the fan had given the address for y/n’s old apartment, her job, and has been seen on set before. This was the safest place for her. As far as they are aware, there was no reason to believe the fan has knowledge of this apartment nor that y/n and Tom even lived together.
“I’m just…” Tom sighed. He knew he was going overboard in his preparations. But he couldn’t help it, he needed to know y/n would be safe.
Y/n gave Tom a quick kiss. “Worried, sweet, adorable, I know,” she grinned. “But you’re also about to be late,” y/n giggled playfully. “So, go, get there safely, kick ass on your scenes, and we’ll talk at lunch?”
Tom smiled and nodded, holding y/n to his chest for another hug. “Alright love, I’ll call you soon. I love you.”
“I love you too,” y/n said. She pulled back from the hug and kissed Tom’s forehead. “Let me know when you get to set,” she added as Tom made his way to his car. Y/n waved goodbye before she closed the door.
Y/n quickly armed the security system. She sighed to herself before looking around as she tried to decide what to do on her unplanned day off. Y/n walked to the bedroom to change into pajamas and grab some large and comfortable blankets.
When y/n returned to the living room, she found Tom had texted her saying he’d made it to set. She smiled and sent a quick reply before settling herself on their couch. Y/n flicked the television on and scrolled through their digital movies until she landed on Uncharted. She smirked to herself and sent a photo of her movie choice to Tom before she pressed play and relaxed under her blankets.
Tumblr media
“You okay?” Harry asked, squinting at his brother. “You seem tense and you keep saying the wrong lines,” he pointed out. Harry was not just Tom’s brother but also his personal assistant and therefore it was his job to see to whatever was bothering him. “What’s going on?”
Tom sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing as he realized he realized he’d just messed up the makeup the crew put on him. “It’s just…” he mumbled, looking around the set before pulling his brother to the side. “You know that crazy fan?” He asked. When Harry nodded, Tom continued. “Well, they get y/n’s number and left her a threatening message”.
Harry’s eyes widened. “Is she okay?” He asked.
“Yeah, I mean, she was when I left. And, Jones hasn’t reached out to say that’s changed… But, I just…. It’s hard to clear my mind and focus,” Tom admitted.
“I get that mate, but you can’t know what’s going on if you don’t ask,” Harry said. “So, instead of stressing for likely no reason, why don’t you text her between scenes and see what she’s up to?“ he suggested.
Tom smiled and hugged his brother. “That’s a great idea mate, thank you!” He held out his hand and waited for Harry to pass him his phone.
Harry chuckled and quickly took Tom’s phone from his pocket. “Here ya are,” he said with a playful eye roll.
“Oh,” Tom chuckled. He felt his cheeks flush as he looked at the last message from his girlfriend.
“Ewww, if that’s a sext, you need to get better at hiding your reaction,” Harry groaned.
Tom glared at Harry as he shook his head. “No!” He scolded. “Apparently she’s having a movie day…” Tom mumbled bashfully.
“Okay? And…?” Harry questioned.
Tom tilted his phone so Harry could see the text thread. His blush darkened as his brother laughed and shook his head at y/n's choice of movies for the day.
“You two are gross,” Harry teased. “Ready to try this scene again now?” He asked, trying to guide Tom back to set.
Tom smiled to himself. He quickly replied to y/n’s text and passed his phone back to Harry. “Yeah, I am now,” Tom nodded.
Tumblr media
Y/n yawned as she rose from the floor. She’d made a blanket fort earlier to watch movies in. But now, her legs were numb and tingly from the position she’d been in. Y/n tiredly made her way to the kitchen for some snacks. While she hadn’t done much today, she was exhausted. It seemed doing nothing let her body realize how tired she’d been lately.
Y/n groaned lightly upon seeing that Tom had left a nearly empty milk carton in the fridge. She had just gotten groceries, not knowing they needed milk since the n carton was still in the fridge. Y/n made a mental note to get more milk tomorrow, or tonight after Tom got home from set. She poured the last of it in her cereal bowl before going to throw the carton away.
Only, as she went to place the carton in the garbage, y/n noticed it was full. She quickly calculated what day it was and realized it was garbage day. Y/n decided to go put on some slippers so she could take the garbage out.
Y/n returned to the kitchen and tied the trash bag closed. She smiled to herself knowing Tom wouldn’t have to deal with taking the bag out tonight when he got home and instead could relax. It was the least she could do since she knew he was worrying about her more than usual today.
Y/n disarmed the security system so that her opening the back door wouldn’t trip the alarm. That was the last thing Tom needed while trying to focus on his job. She was careful though to shut the door behind her and lock it so no one could enter while she was walking to the alley to dispose of the bag. Y/n figured it was overkill, but she knew Tom would be happier knowing she’d done it.
Y/n was sure to be quick with throwing the bag in the can outside. She smiled when she noticed their neighbors’ cans hadn’t been picked up yet; she hadn’t missed pickup. Y/n cautiously looked around before walking back to her apartment.
Y/n felt some anxiety as she unlocked her back door, feeling like someone could sneak up behind her. As a result, she quickly rushed inside and locked it again. Y/n let out a sigh and decided to refocus on her movie day, designating it as a seemingly needed distraction. She grabbed her bowl of sugary cereal with little milk and headed back to her blanket fort in the living room.
Tumblr media
Y/n paused the movie, having thought she heard something in the kitchen. She peered into the kitchen doorway from her seat and didn’t see anything. Y/n wanted to go back to her movie, but her gut told her something wasn’t right.
Y/n elected it was safest to fully check on the sound she thought she heard. So, she grabbed her phone, pulling up the favorites section of her contacts as she anxiously made her way to the kitchen. She stopped halfway there, realizing she didn’t have anything to protect herself with. Unfortunately, her ideal choice of weapon would be found in the kitchen. Y/n settled for her keys, holding them in her other hand as she resumed her quest to find the source of the sound she’d heard.
A gasp escaped y/n’s mouth as she entered the kitchen. There was a pile of broken glass underneath the back door on the far side of the room. Y/n didn’t see anyone in the room but knew this wasn’t a good sign. She hadn’t been wrong about having heard a sound, nor about the need to check on it. And, considering the broken glass had come not too long after the voicemail incident, y/n was worried they were related.
Y/n didn’t want to take her eyes off the kitchen in case someone appeared, but she suspected she should call Jones. She blindly tried to pull up his number as she stared at the back door. Y/n cautiously walked towards the knife block, hoping to grab a better weapon than her keys. Except, before y/n could get to even the halfway point, someone’s hand reached in through the broken glass on the door and unlocked the handle.
Y/n looked around for an alternative weapon since she was too far from the knife block. But, she quickly ran out of time as the person had flung the door open and entered her apartment. Y/n’s eyes widened and she began to step back. She wanted to run but she didn’t want to aggravate the girl before her. Plus, the safest way to run would be to run outside, but the girl was blocking that door.
The intruder was wearing a homemade Tom Holland shirt, making it even more obvious she was the stalkerish fan. The girl’s hair and makeup was overly done up, as if she was going out on a date or to an event. She was glaring aggressively at y/n as she walked further into the kitchen.
Once y/n sensed she’d backed up enough to make it to the doorway to the living room, she turned and bolted from the kitchen. She scolded herself as she realized her blanket fort in the living room now provided a large obstacle, blocking her from easy access to the front door. Before y/n could decide if she could crash through the mess of blankets and furniture supporting them, she heard the fan’s loud footsteps running after her.
Y/n sharply turned the corner and started to the stairs. She looked down at her phone as she ran, clicking on Jones’ contact. Just as y/n’s finger went to press call, she felt a hand on her ankle. She screeched as she tugged her foot away and tried to stumble up the rest of the stairs.
Y/n kept running up the stairs as the fan angrily screamed her name. She once again tried to call Jones, only this time she tripped on one of Tom’s shoes that had been left on the staircase. In her attempt to not lose her balance and fall down the steps, y/n used her hand to push herself back up. Only, this caused her phone to slip from her hands and tumble down the stairs. Y/n fell to the ground as she turned to grab the device. Except, she wasn’t quick enough.
Y/n silently watched in terror as her lifeline bounced past the crazed fan on the stairs. She froze as she saw the glint of the knife the fan had in her hand. Y/n swallowed thickly and decided her best bet was to try and lock herself in the bathroom and scream; hoping the neighbors would hear and call the police. She quickly stood back up and turned around. “HELP!” Y/n shouted, hoping by chance a window was open.
“I just want to talk!” The fan replied, bouncing up the steps after y/n.
“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Y/n yelled back, finally mounting the stairs. She rushed towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. A painful scratch on the back of her right shoulder caused y/n to stop. Y/n knew instantly from the way there were four simultaneous scratches that the fan had used her acrylic nails to scrape at y/n.
Y/n hissed in pain and spun around to try and fight off the fan. She fortunately still had her keys in her fist. As such, she lunged forward and dug them against the fan’s face. Y/n used the fan’s shock to turn and run the rest of the way to the bathroom.
As y/n tried to shut the bathroom door, she was blocked by the fan’s foot. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” she shouted, trying to shove the girl’s foot out of the way. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!”
“JUST LET ME TALK!” The fan argued, pushing against the bathroom door.
“I DON’T WANT TO TALK!” Y/n groaned. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” she asked, slamming the door repeatedly against the fan’s leg as the girl banged on the other side of the bathroom door.
“YOU STOLE MY ONE TRUE LOVE!” the fan screamed, the knife stabbing the door.
Y/n flinched backward as the knife sliced into the thin wooden door separating her from the crazy fan. During y/n’s brief reaction, the fan shoved the door open. Y/n fell backward onto the ground. She shouted again in desperation, praying someone heard her.
The fan stood over y/n with a furious expression. “YOU. STOLE. TOM. FROM. ME.” She seethed, leaning closer to y/n as she was flat on her back against the bathroom floor.
Y/n lifted her arms over her head to shield her face. “GO AWAY!” she shouted, kicking at the fan. Y/n gasped as the fan grabbed ahold of y/n’s hair. She used her keys to scratch the fan’s arm of the hand she was holding y/n with.
“STOP FIGHTING ME!” The fan complained, tugging on y/n’s hair. She used her other hand to try and pry the keys from y/n’s hand.
Y/n stared at the fan in bewilderment. “YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY!” She cried, continuing her kicking and scratching. Y/n faintly heard her phone ringing from the other room. She silently pleaded with the universe for it to be Tom checking on her. If it was, she knew he’d send security over if she didn’t answer.
Tumblr media
The crazed fan continued to fight with y/n until y/n spat at her in an attempt to get the girl to back up enough for y/n to get off the floor. The fan glared and hissed at y/n. “THAT’S IT!” She shouted, grabbing the knife from where she’d set it on the bathroom counter; out of reach from y/n. She dropped to her knees and placed the blade against y/n’s throat.
Y/n gulped as terror shot though every fiber of her being. She could keep using her keys, especially now that the girl was close enough for y/n to jab them into her eyes. Only, the knife against her throat made y/n worry the fan wouldn’t hesitate to push the blade into her as a response to such an attempt.
“Drop it, or I’ll make you regret it,” The fan threatened. She smirked when y/n shakingly let go of the keys.
“Okay…” y/n mumbled, wincing as her neck grazed against the knife’s blade as she spoke. “Y-you wanted to t-talk?” She asked rhetorically. “W-we can talk,” y/n offered. Hopefully, she could keep the fan talking long enough for help to reach her.
“No!” The fan scoffed. “I don’t want to talk,” she snarked.
Y/n tried to lean back from the blade, the firm tile of the bathroom floor not allowing her much relief. “B-but, you said-,” y/n argued.
“That was before this!” The fan shouted. She raised her non dominant hand, letting go of y/n’s hair.
Y/n noticed the blood dripping from the fan’s arm. She looked back up at the fan with fearful eyes. “Then… wha-what do you want?” Y/n asked, trying to slide backwards on the tile so she could at least use the wash to sit herself up.
“STOP MOVING YOU STUPID BITCH!” The fan scolded. “I love that man, but I swear he’s an idiot, I don’t how you tricked him into thinking he loves you, but I’m going to help him see the truth.”
Y/n’s eyes widened as she froze. She didn’t know what else there was to do at this point. She’d tried to fight but was out armed. She tried to scream but no one heard. She tried to call security but her phone fell. The only thing left was to try and get the crazy fan to drop her guard slightly.
“I… I… I’m sorry… I…” y/n lied, trying to appear weak and like the fan had cracked her. “What can I d-d-do?” She pleaded with fake tears. “H-how can I h-help? Please, I’ll do anything,” y/n fibbed.
“You- you want to help me?” The fan questioned hesitantly.
Y/n nodded, wincing as the blade scratched her skin. “I.. I had my fun…” she mumbled, hating herself for even lying about it. “I… you’re clearly better for him..”.
“Really?” The fan smiled. “You admit I’m better for Tom?” She asked dreamily.
Bingo. Y/n nodded faintly again, not wanting to say it.
The fan seemed to pick up on y/n’s reasoning. “Say it,” The fan barked.
“W-what?” Y/n questioned.
“Say that I’m better for Tom, that he’d be happier with me,” The fan ordered.
Y/n swallowed, the knot on her throat hitting the blade of the knife still pressed against her. She felt nauseous and her eyes prickled with tears. Tom was the actor, not y/n. But, she didn’t have much of a choice.
“Y-you’re better for Tom,” y/n mumbled. She hoped her shaky voice and watery eyes came across as fake remorse and sorrow for the fan rather than the fear and guilt she felt. When the fan stared at y/n expectantly, y/n fought the desire to tremble as she stared back in terror. “H-he… To-Tom,” y/n corrected herself not wanting to further upset the girl by being vague, “Tom would be happier with you”.
The fan smirked with pride. She tilted her head mockingly at y/n. “I’m glad you finally see it,” The fan commented. “Now, we just need to work on what you’ll say when he gets here.”
“What? He’s-he’s not coming,” y/n stated fearfully. She hoped she was right. She wanted Tom to call security, but she didn’t want Tom to get himself caught up in this dangerous situation.
“Of course he’s coming. He thinks he loves you,” the fan sighed. “He’s wrong, of course.” The fan rolled her eyes. “But no worry, because once we show him that you don’t actually love him like he deserves, he’ll choose me, his true love,” she grinned.
Y/n tensed. “S-show him… That I-“ she mumbled.
“You’ll see. You’re going to tell him that you don’t love him,” The fan explained.
“Or…” y/n whispered, her voice cracking. She knew she’d likely lost her ruse, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to be forced to lie to Tom; especially about this.
“Or, I’ll remove you from the picture myself,” the fan warned. “Then he’ll finally be all mine,” She smiled.
Y/n willed herself not to cry, she had to figure out a way out of this. There was no doubt even if y/n didn’t make of it, the girl would kill Tom too once she saw Tom wasn’t going to fall in love with her the way she thought. Y/n refused to let that happen. She needed to get her and Tom out of this.
Tumblr media
Tom ran his hand down his face as he tried dialing y/n’s number again. He’d tried twice already with no response. Granted, they were back to back, so if she was busy with something, there’d been little time to finish and answer the phone. But surely, by him calling a third time, y/n would get the seriousness behind his calls and drop whatever she’d been doing.
Tom felt his whole body go numb as his third call went to voicemail. He closed his eyes as his fear reached an all time high. He looked around to tell someone he had to leave but didn’t see Harry in the hall. Tom didn’t want to waste anymore time so he decided to just leave.
Tom ran to the set door and grabbed his jacket, yanking his keys out before dashing out the door. He threw open his car door and jumped in. He quickly dialed Jones’s phone as he sped out of the parking lot. Tom sighed when Jones didn’t answer, maybe he was already with y/n then.
Tom was only seconds from their street when Jones called him back. “Is y/n okay?! Is she with you?!” He asked after hitting accept. Tom felt a chill rush through him when Jones stated he had no idea what Tom was talking about.
Tom quickly took the corner, speeding even more as he drove closer to his apartment. “Just meet me at my house, NOW!” He shouted as he pulled into the driveway. Tom vaguely noticed Jones commenting that he and another officer were on their way.
When he threw open the front door and didn’t hear an alarm go off, Tom felt his tears rising even more. He clumsily rushed past the blanket fort y/n had made in the living room. “Y/N?! LOVE?!” Tom yelled, moving further into the apartment.
Tom glanced in the kitchen to see if the back door showed any signs of damage. Since the front door was still locked and closed, he hoped he was overreacting. Maybe y/n was just taking a nap.
Tom’s tears fell down his cheeks as he found the broken glass and open back door. “No, no, no, no, no,” he mumbled. He rushed back to the living room. “Please,” Tom whimpered.
Tom went to go up the stairs, stopping when something cracked under his foot. He slowly raised his leg and looked down. He winced as he noticed it was y/n’s phone. Tom lifted it up and saw she’d pulled up Jones’s contact. He felt his heart drop as he faintly heard a struggle upstairs.
Tom threw y/n’s phone down and bolted up the staircase. “Y/N!!” He screamed, taking the stairs three at a time. “PLEASE ANSWER ME!” He pleaded breathily as he reached the top. Tom froze as his head snapped towards the bathroom.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Tom belted, sprinting to the end of the hall. “HEY!” He yelled, going to pull on the girl standing over his girlfriend. Tom’s breath hitched as he saw the blade pressed against y/n’s throat.
Tom froze as he stared in fear. He could see the terror and distraught in y/n’s eyes as she was pinned to the ground at knifepoint. Tom breath was shaky as his hands were fisted at his side. He tried to shoot his girlfriend a remorseful look, uncertain if she could see it from her angle. And then, he turned his eyes towards the girl holding her hostage as his eyes lit with fury.
“Back. Away. From. Her. Now.” Tom seethed, his jaw tight as he stared down the crazy fan.
“Tom! Oh my gosh,” The fan gushed. “Hi! Sorry for the mess, Uhh,” she giggled, “not to worry, I’m sure y/n will help clean it up after”.
Tom squinted harshly at the girl. “After? After what?” He asked dreadfully. He tried to look around the girl to see how y/n was doing. His eyes widened upon seeing drops of blood on the white tile flooring. Tom glanced back at the fan, “please. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Take it!” He pleaded.
“Is it money?” Tom questioned, “you can have it. Call my brother and he’ll help get it all out from the bank for you”.
Y/n tried to speak, but her voice was muffled as the fan pressed the flat edge against her more forcefully in warning. She squirmed and debated whether she should try and fight the fan off again now that Tom was here.
“Y/n,” Tom whimpered. “Don’t, please,” he begged, “I’ve got this”. Tom looked back towards the fan with his hands held up. “Just call him, his name is in my phone-".
“Harry, duh. I know your brother’s name, silly,” the fan laughed. “I know all their names! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?!” She shook her head in disbelief.
Tom tried to resist looking confused as he slowly nodded. “Okay…” he mumbled, “so… then uhh,.. Yeah, call him and he’ll get you however much you want. It’s all yours. Just, let y/n go, please”.
“I don��t want your money,” the fan tsked.
“You.. you don’t?” Tom sighed in frustration. “Then wh-what do you want?” He asked hopelessly. “Merch? Harry can get that too. Ummm autographs? Tell me what to sign. Umm, do you want-“ Tom rambled, trying to find a solution.
The crazed fan pouted. “I don’t want anything from you babe,” she answered. “Relax, you don’t have to do anything Tommy bear.”
Tom’s breath wavered as he tried to keep his composure. “Then… then wh-why is my girlfriend on the-?” He stopped himself as the fan glared and turned to y/n, gripping the knife tighter. Tom realized his mistake; this fan claimed in her message that she thought she was his one true love.
“Ex,” the fan hissed, turning back to Tom. “Your ex-girlfriend,” she corrected.
Tom swallowed tensely. Even though the statement was false, it didn’t sit well with him. Even more concerning though was that he had no idea where the fan was going with all of this if she already decided y/n was his ex.
“Don’t worry sweetie,” The girl sighed with what sounded like sympathy. “You’re about to hear why that’s a good thing,” she said. “And I’ll be here to help you through it after.”
Tom opened his mouth to ask what exactly the girl meant when suddenly she was ordering y/n to sit up. He flinched forward instinctively when y/n struggled to get into a seated position. Tom only stopped himself when the fan pressed the knife closer to y/n’s skin, grazing it slightly. Ironically, he wanted to move towards y/n even more after that in order to get the knife away from her, but he knew any movement on his behalf could make things drastically worse in seconds; before he would have time to stop it.
Y/n rested her head against the wall of the bathroom. Her cheek brushed against the toilet paper holder installed beside her on the wall. She couldn’t get herself to look at Tom knowing what the fan was about to make her do. The fan had warned/instructed y/n on it prior to Tom’s arrival.
“Okay, speak,” The fan ordered. She moved infinitesimal to the side so Tom could see y/n clearly.
Y/n closed her eyes and shook her head. She no longer cared about the pain that came with such movement. Y/n felt her tears stream down her face as she tried not to shake. Her stomach was in knots and all she wanted to do was throw up.
“NOW!” The fan shouted, her anger rising at y/n’s lack of cooperation.
Tom flinched at the sudden outburst. He kept his eyes focused on his terrified girlfriend. He watched as her eyes opened and he nodded for her to comply with whatever the fan was saying to do. “Y-y/n, it’s okay, just say it,” Tom pleaded softly.
“See, Tom wants the truth,” the girl remarked. “Now,” she glared at y/n, “tell him”.
Y/n whimpered as she held eye contact with her boyfriend. She saw him silently begging her with his eyes to just do it. Y/n sniffled as she closed her eyes. “I… I… I can’t,” she resisted.
“Do it or I swear!” The girl screeched.
Tom saw the wild look in the girl’s eyes and his fear increased. “Y/n,” he whispered. “I.. I want to hear the truth,” Tom mumbled, playing along with whatever the fan was going for.
Y/n squeezed her eyes tighter and shook. She didn’t want to do this. “I… I don’t….” Y/n mumbled, stopping when the fan yelled for her to use full sentences. “I used you,” She lied.
The words tasted vile as y/n spoke her instructed words aloud. “I.. I don’t love you.” She cried, her resulting movement causing the edge of the blade to seep into her skin. “I-I-I never did. I never l-loved you,” y/n repeated as she’d been told to. She felt her body go limp in defeat after uttering the false but nonetheless hurtful words to Tom.
Tom knew what y/n was saying wasn’t true. But, he could see how badly it hurt her to just repeat them. Nonetheless, he knew he had to play along to get the crazy fan to let y/n go. Fortunately, Tom was already crying.
“O-oh,” Tom whispered with pretend shock. “I… I thought…” he sighed, stepping back in hopes the fan would follow him.
“It’s okay,” the fan soothed. “It’s okay Tommy bear, I’m here for you.” “You don’t need her, I can show you what real love is,” she promised.
Tom noticed the fan had moved closer to him, further from y/n. She was still between the two of them with the knife, but it was no longer at y/n’s throat. Tom wiped his eyes dramatically with a frown. “But… I just…. I can’t believe…” he murmured, taking another few steps down the hall.
The fan sighed. “I know, it’s cruel,” she agreed, “but, aren’t you glad to find out before it was too late?”
Tom shrugged as he yet again moved back some, the fan unconsciously following him. He tried to shoot y/n a sign to be ready to run when the girl eventually exited the bathroom, but y/n wasn’t looking at him. He sighed and quickly improvised. “It’s just…y/n,” Tom whimpered, the fan pouting as he seemingly cried over y/n’s ‘declaration’.
Y/n looked up at hearing Tom say her name. She noticed the way he immediately made eye contact with her and then shifted his gaze to the floor. Y/n looked around and realized the crazy chick and Tom had stepped further into the hall. She was no longer at knifepoint.
Y/n quietly slid her hand toward the keys she’d abandoned earlier. She mentally thanked the girl for being stupid enough to not kick them away. Once she had the keys in reach, y/n took a deep breath as she thought of a game plan. She had to be careful, she didn’t want Tom getting stuck in the crossfire or for the fan to flip out on him in retaliation.
Y/n glanced back up at Tom as she heard him still mumbling about his shock over her statement. In doing so, she noticed a shadow in the staircase. Something she assumed the fan hadn’t seen due to staring crazily at Tom. Y/n took one last deep breath before she silently moved for the keys.
Y/n held the keys in her hands and tried to give Tom a warning glance. She then got onto her knees and leaned forward until she dug the keys into the girl’s leg. Y/n nearly vomited at the force she had to use to puncture the girl’s leg more than just a scratch. But, it was enough for her to get the girl to spin away from Tom.
As the fan turned on y/n, Tom rushed forward to try and grab the knife.
Y/n threw herself back to the ground as she prepared for the knife to contact her.
Before Tom could reach the crazy girl, he heard a buzzing sound and the girl fell to her knees, the knife hitting the ground beside y/n. He snapped his head behind him and saw his security guards standing there, one of whom had tased the fan.
Tom tried to run to y/n but one of the guards stopped him. The one with the taser sidestepped him, likely going to grab the crazy girl. But Tom pushed past both of them and ran to the bathroom. He jumped over the spasming fan in the doorway and fell to his knees beside y/n.
Tom sighed as he saw Y/n was still hunched over, waiting for the impact. “I-It’s just m-me, love,” he whispered tenderly before cautiously placing a hand on her back. When she flinched, he pulled his hand back. But, as y/n turned to look up at him with tears in her eyes, he pulled her to his chest.
“Shhhhh I’ve got you,” Tom cooed, rocking y/n lightly. “You’re safe.” “I’m so sorry”. He repeated these words and similar sentiments as they both cried and held onto each other. Tom faintly heard his security taking the girl away, but he didn’t look away from y/n.
“T-t-To-T-To-“ y/n mumbled, tears still flowing down her face.
“Shhh, you don’t have to talk,” Tom assured her, delicately wiping her cheeks. “I’m here, it’s okay now.”
Y/n shook her head as another sob left her body. “I-I… I didn’t mean it!” She cried. “I swear, T-Tom. I didn’t mean any of what s-she-“.
Tom frowned and pulled y/n back to his chest. He rested his lips on the top of her head as he sighed. “I know darling, I know,” he told her. “I know she made you say it,” Tom acknowledged.
Y/n fisted Tom’s shirt as she cried into his chest. “I … I didn’t… I didn’t want to say it…” she cried. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I didn’t mean it.” Y/n repeated.
Tom listened respectfully as y/n kept repeating herself. He pressed loving kisses to her scalp as he waited for her to calm down. After a few minutes, Tom began replying with a quiet, “I know” each time y/n promised she hadn’t meant what she said.
Tom didn’t know how long this continued. To him it felt like an eternity having to hear y/n’s choked sobs and needless apologies. But, he noticed she suddenly went quiet. Tom cautiously cupped y/n’s face and tilted it so he could see her eyes.
“I love you,” y/n promised. She gazed up into Tom’s eyes and sniffled. “I love you.”
Tom smiled softly at y/n before giving her a quick kiss. “I love you too,” he whispered.
Y/n took Tom’s face in her hands and needily pulled him in for a longer kiss. She closed her eyes as she sunk her fingers into his hair and held him close. Y/n felt a few more tears leave her eyes as she savored the taste of Tom’s lips.
“Are you hurt?” Tom asked when they pulled back, resting his forehead on y/n’s.
“I.. I don’t think so,” y/n mumbled.
“I...-there was… is…blood on the floor,” Tom argued worryingly.
Y/n pulled back and looked over at the spots Tom was referencing. “Oh, I.. I think that’s hers,” she admitted. “I kinda tore up her arm before you got here,” y/n said, eyeing her keys.
Tom hummed and smiled faintly. “I’m so p-proud of you,” he told y/n. He saw y/n’s disagreement and shook his head. “You kept yourself alive until help could come,” Tom argued. “I s-saw you tried to call Jones, you ran, you fought back, you did what you needed to do to survive.”
Y/n sniffled. “I didn’t want to say that… I shouldn’t have-“.
Tom sighed. “I know you didn’t, and I’m sorry you had to. But that’s just it, you had to,” He pointed out. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m not hurt or mad. I’m thankful you did what you needed to do. I’m thankful you were so strong,” Tom whimpered lightly.
Y/n flattened her lips and nodded. “I’m just glad you’re here. Thank you for c-coming for me.”
“Always. Now, are you sure-” Tom began, stopping suddenly. He abruptly stood up and carefully pulled y/n up with him. “Your neck,” he muttered, gently tilting her chin up for a better view.
“Shit,” Tom hissed, upset he’d momentarily forgotten about seeing the knife slice y/n’s neck. He eyed the thin line with a deep frown. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
Y/n huffed. “Tom, please, I just… I just wanna lay down and sleep,” she cried.
Tom sucked in his lips and nodded in understanding. “Okay. You will,” he promised. “Just after you get that cut looked at,” Tom declared. “Don’t worry, I’m going with you,” he said upon seeing the fear return to y/n’s eyes.
Tumblr media
“You didn’t tell me she clawed your back,” Tom sighed, squeezing y/n’s hand as the doctor gave y/n a tetanus booster shot.
“I forgot,” y/n laughed humorously. She sighed, “doesn’t really hurt too much though”.
Tom nodded. “And your throat?” He questioned, eyeing the bandage covering her neck.
“That one hurts like a bitch,” y/n admitted with a quiet laugh. “But, I’ll be fine,” She promised. “But…Tom…. I….” y/n trailed off.
“You what, love?” Tom inquired.
“I don’t really… umm..” y/n sighed and cleared her throat. She immediately winced at the pain that shot through her as a result. Y/n huffed and looked back at Tom, who was watching her with a sorrowful look. “I don’t want to go home… I… I know she’s gone… but…”
Tom nodded rapidly, squeezing y/n’s hand again. “We’re not going back there,” He promised. “W-when the police are umm,… done with their stuff… I’ll have Harry hire some people to help move our stuff out,” Tom stated.
Y/n smiled appreciatively at how Tom had already considered her not wanting to go back there after tonight. “But… Where are we going to stay? You are staying with me still, right?” She asked nervously.
“Of course!” Tom promised. “For now, I can take time off and we can go back to London. Or, we’ll get a hotel or new apartment until the show wraps. Whatever you want darling,” he comforted.
“You need to finish-“ y/n began. She noticed Tom was about to argue with her so she smiled and shook her head. “I want you to finish. But I won’t argue to you taking a few days off right now,” she admitted bashfully.
Tom sighed with relief, not wanting to go back to work just yet. More so, not wanting to be away from y/n again just yet. “Okay, so new place it is, we’ll get a hotel for tonight,” he decided. “Then, figure it out from there,” Tom said softly.
Y/n nodded and smiled lightly at Tom. “Can we go now?” She asked.
Tom chuckled quietly. “Once you’re cleared, darling,” he said, looking at the doctor.
“You’re all patched up, let me just get the discharge paperwork for you to sign and the at-home instructions to take care of your wounds,” the doctor offered with a sympathetic smile. “Then you’re free to go,” he told the couple as he left the room.
Y/n sighed and squeezed Tom’s hand. She was beyond ready to get out of the hospital. To be somewhere comfortable and safe. With Tom.
“In addition to the guards outside,” Tom said, nodding his head towards the door to y/n’s emergency room where a few of his security were. “I tasked Harry with booking the safest hotel he can find. I’m also going to have guards on each entrance to the hotel, and one outside watching our room if we have a patio, and a couple in the hallway by our door, they’ve been told they’ll be working around the clock, and-“ he rambled.
“Tom, I appreciate all of that,” y/n confessed. “But… She’s been arrested. I don’t think we need that many…” she argued.
Tom nodded. “You’re probably right. But… I know you keep saying it’s not my fault….” He sighed. “But, I can’t help it… please just let me do this for you, until things settle down?”
Y/n smiled warmly and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”
Tumblr media
“Tom, you can sleep now, we’re safe,” y/n promised, snuggling into his side as he held her.
“I know,” Tom whispered. “I just want to stay awake and just hold you for a bit,” he confessed. “But, please, rest darling, you’ve had a terribly long day,” Tom pleaded, kissing y/n’s forehead.
Y/n hummed quietly as she breathed in Tom’s cologne. “I love you,” she whispered, melting into his embrace.
“I love you too,” Tom replied, smiling down at y/n. “Thank you for being such a fighter today,” he added, tenderly running his thumb over the space between her brows to soothe her. Tom grinned to himself as he watched y/n quickly drift off to sleep. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if things had gone differently today, but he was glad he didn’t have to find out.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tom Holland Navigation
Peter Parker / Spider-Man
Main Masterlist Navigation (All My Works)
453 notes · View notes
youandtom2 · 2 years
Text
Praise You Like I Should (CEO!Tom Holland) 18+
Tumblr media
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.
3K notes · View notes
f10werfae · 11 months
Text
Titty Comfort
Tumblr media
pairing: Frat!Tom Holland x Girlfriend!Reader
summary: When Tom can’t fall asleep, he turns to his girlfriend’s breasts for a lot of comfort (Breast play) (lowkey subby tom?)
Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/ Disclaimer 18+
Tom Holland Masterlist, Full Masterlist
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“C’mere love, need you closer” Tom whined, his arms wrapped around the woman in his arms, his semi-hardened cock resting against her ass cheeks. “How much closer do you need baby? we’re already spooning naked” Y/n giggled shuffling up against his cock, his hands situated on her warm tits, squeezing and kneading them every so often; coaxing small whines and whimpers from her lips which were currently swollen due to their sleepy, sloppy make out session.
Tom only whined in response, tugging on her perked up and hardened nipples, nuzzling his face into her neck, kissing and licking at the coconut scented flesh. This whole relationship started when Tom had walked into his bedroom during one of their crazy frat parties, to see a sleepy Y/n nuzzling and cuddling herself into his spider-man bedsheets. Granted he didn’t know the girl but he had a sudden urge to protect her, knowing damn well that he would now protect his sacred bedroom with his life due to the sleeping angel right in his bed.
“Oh- oh shit- you must own this room huh?” Y/n shot up, her eyes glazed and lazy, still holding Tom’s pillow in between her arms to hug it dearly. “I- uh got a bit tired and I was told I could take a room by David, who is currently busy eating my friend’s face off” She chuckled explaining why she was suddenly in his bed, of course David the head frat brother would say something like that, inconsiderate arsehole. “O-oh no sure it’s okay, I guess, just a bit shocked love. You can stay” He laughed walking closer, “We can share the bed if you want?” She smiled gleaming up at him, her arms inviting as she opened up the blankets showing a space just for him, who the fuck was this girl?
Well Tom soon found out the day after when he woke up to a (colour) headed girl on his chest, her body still clad in her dress, her legs intertwined with his as she tried to hug herself further into his warm wide chest. His own arms tugged around her too. Her name was Y/n L/n, she was taking a completely different major from him, which explained why he had never seen her before. She was outgoing, confident and not afraid to get things her way. Had he really just slept with (literally) some girl who he found already snoozing in his bed? Yes, yes he did and he wasn’t going to regret it one bit.
Now two months later, the once infamous frat boy on campus had been tied down to the one and only Y/n L/n; whenever they are on campus their hands are permanently intertwined, his head seen to be dipping down and whispering filthy and sweet things in her ears to make her laugh bashfully and hit his chest. With some people even commenting that he had heard him say that he “couldn’t wait to take her ass tonight”
Any chance he’d get he would walk her to her classes, choosing to hold her books and even like right now, missing out on his own frat activities to instead sleepover at her cozy little dorm room. Now decorated with a multitude of their polaroids together on her wall, some being a little inappropriate considering the nudity, but who else was going to see them?
Tumblr media
“You keep tossin’ n’ turnin’ honey, are you feeling alright?” She frowned turning around in his arms, his hands slipping to her waist, her chest flushed against his as he felt her hardened nipples against his skin; Jesus how did he bag someone as gorgeous as her? His lips raining kisses all over her face, feeling her breath quicken and shake each time he got closer to her sweet spot, which already had hickies littering the length of it. “Just feeling a bit restless baby, nothin’ for you to worry about, pretty” He smiled finally kissing her nose, watching it wrinkle adorably in response before she leant in and pressed a featherlight kiss to his pink lips, not one full of lust but one full of adoration and passion for the man right in front of her. The man who showed her what love was, and how to love in such a short amount of time.
“But it is for me to worry about, I want you soft and snuggly with me, sleepy and hazy whike being undeniably horny” She laughed nudging his nose with hers, his lips pouting out to kiss hers lightly again, his hands groping her breasts tightly in his palm; she knew what he wanted, no, needed. Whenever Tom found himself needing comfort or some sensual loving, he turned to his lover’s breasts, suddenly finding them the most alluring thing in the world.
“Can I uh- ya know, play with them a little?” He whispered just staring at them blatantly, smiling childishly when Y/n replied, “Of course you can baby, they’re all yours babyboy” She giggled kissing the corner of his lips, noticing how his eyes were just fully trained on her tits more than anything else. Shifting herself up a little, he started moving her warm fleshy tits in circular motions, his lips greedily licking and sucking on the flesh surrounding her areola and nipples. Y/n’s fingers raked though his brown curls gently, planting small kisses to his hairline, her lips pulled into a small smile; Tom sat with his eyes closed fully enjoying sucking and pulling at her tits.
His tongue licking a stripe up the underside of her boob until he reached her nipple, wrapping his mouth around it like a suction, suckling on it affectionately; his eyes closed calmly. “You taste so good baby angel” He whispered kissing each of her nipples lovingly, letting his lips collect spit before dribbling it onto her hardened buds, lubing them up with his tongues flicking at them softly. “Thank you honey bun, even used some of that new body wash ya got me for no reason” She moaned out half asleep, Tom’s suckling had calmed her to a point of sleep, her eyes threatening to close any second now. The sound of Tom’s hums and his tongue flicking, giving a weird sense of a comforting atmosphere.
“Well it was in your wishlist and you told me your wishlist was empty” Tom hummed annoyed, shoving his face between her breasts, kissing the valley of her tits; knowing damn well he made it his responsibility to make sure everything in her basket was bought on a weekly basis. “Your tits are beautiful Y/n, not in a sexual way, but the fact they’re part of you just makes them so sexy”
He spent the next 15-20 minutes just loving and kissing on her breasts, her other hand softly pumping his limp cock, not with the intention of getting his hard but with the intention of showing him the same type of affection he was showing her. Undivided unconditional attention.
“hmm” Y/n hummed turning her head to the side, her hands dropped to rubbing his back soothingly, her nails raking up and down slowly. “You sleepy love? Want me to put the girls away?” He questioned pulling away from her tits with a pop, looking up at her with a crazy type of love, a love they both knew would never burn out. “No no keep going hun, feels good n’ warm” She yawned letting her eyes close for the final time that night, her hands resting on his back as he continued his own adventure. His lips licking, kissing and sucking on her tits until he himself, fell asleep undoubtably with her tit in his mouth; like a lovesick idiot.
———
PSA: Sorry this was short but I found it so cute and lovey!! Just a bit of comfort for those who are going through finals/any tough situations
library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection
taglist
@esposadomd @elenavampire21 @stuckysgirl27 @cookielovesbook-akie @theekyliepage @acornacre @fdl305 @alexxavicry @alina02 @aerangi @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @vrittivsanghavi @gloriouspurpose01 @marvelloki23 @madebylilly @noonenuts
Hope you all enjoy the fic!
813 notes · View notes
nowayspidey · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The beetle x The spider.
(Peter Parker x Male!Reader!blue beetle.)
Your ass was on fire. Literally. Burning sensation all over your back along with a throbbing pain that only intensified more and more as soon as you got to the room. Or better said; fell on the room, rolling on the cold floor. Chest rising and falling with no signs of stopping a frantic breathing. Or maybe because Peter let go of you to run and close all the windows in the apartment.
'What's all that sound?' A feminine voice followed Peter steps as he returned with a panicked expression to the room, standing next to you.
That's when you experienced one of the most embarrassing moments in front of your mother-in-law's figure. Peter had slipped the suit off his body, and you.... almost the same. Peter was in his boxers while your's were revealed on the part of your butt. You had gotten up and were on your back checking for injuries. Peter's hand hit your back, catching your attention.
"WHAT?!?!" You snapped angrily.
And yes, you were angry with him. But your anger had blinded you the fact that you were showing your ass to May Parker and Happy Hogan who were now standing at the door-room frame.
'What's going on....? (M/n)..? Can you-- can both of youput on some clothes right now and explain to us what's going on?'
'Yes. May.' Both of you said in unision.
'I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing that beetle embedded in your back (M/c).' Happy had an expression between disgust and curiosity.
'I know. It's unpleasant. But she's sensitive so let's try not to say it out loud.'
But nevertheless, you spoke again first.
'Peter decided to trust a complete stranger on the trip to Italy and NOW after trying to kill us, he revealed our identities!'
'(M/c)!' Peter hissed. He had heard your complaints since you boarded Happy's jet in that tulip field that day on the netherlands.
The two of you had a complicated "relationship."
'Just telling the truth.' You answered, almost eating him with your eyes as you remembered everything that happened in Italy and London.
You spat out the words like venom as you dressed in blue pajama pants and a Hello Kitty shirt you found in Peter's closet.
Helicopters surrounded the building. You ran to the living room in your Hello Kitty pajamas to find every news channel the revelation that Quentin Beck had recorded.
'This is bad. Really bad.' You murmured.
'This is a shithole.' The voice of the beetle responded.
'Yes it is.' You ran a hand through your hair.
Tumblr media
Authors note: i know i took a looong break from writing. But im better (mentally) now and back on trying to write more m/c fics!♡
This is a small series i have planned base on no way home movie x blue beetle movie!!! Also, If you want jaime reyes fics you can drop request at my box ;)
203 notes · View notes
alltoowelltom · 2 years
Text
Who'd You Rather
Tumblr media
tom holland x reader
summary: if there's one thing Ellen is known for, it's exposing secret relationships
a/n: this was written so quickly and not proof-read. also, i picked Ellen because if anyone would do this, it would be her lol
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
July 2019
"So Y/N, are you currently dating anyone?" asks Ellen, taking a sip from her mug.
You shake your head.
"Not currently, no."
Ellen nods.
"Well, please don't worry anymore. We're going to help you find someone in a little game we like to call Who'd You Rather?"
"Oh God," you laugh, twisting slightly in your seat to glare at your manager for agreeing to this who laughed and poked her tongue out at you.
"So all you need to do is look at the photos I show you and pick between these two options, alright?"
"Okay, if you insist." you roll your eyes, facing the large screen.
"I do. So to start off, Timothee Chalamet or Dylan O'Brien?"
"Oh, wow," you laugh. "Starting off strong. Well, I was an absolute hoe for Maze Runner when it came out so I have to pick Dylan. Plus, I know Timothee better so it would be kinda awkward if I chose him."
The picture of Timothee fades away and is replaced by a new photo.
"Dylan O'Brien or Harry Styles?"
"Harry fucking Styles." you say without hesitation and the audience cheers. Ellen nods.
"Harry Styles or Florence Pugh?"
You bury your head in your hands.
"How could you ask me that, Ellen? That's like asking someone to pick between cookie dough and mint chip ice cream! Impossible."
Ellen mimes tapping at her watch and tuts at you.
"Time's ticking, Y/N. Make your choice."
You sigh.
"It's absolutely Florence then. Sorry, Harry."
"Florence pugh or Chris Evans?" Ellen asks.
"Flo."
Ellen's eyes gleam as she quickly reads the next pair of names, rubbing her hands together in a comically evil fashion.
"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?"
You slide down on your chair, laughing and covering your face with your hands.
"Ellen!" you shriek. "I've just come off my second movie co-starring with Tom and he's literally my best friend. You can't ask me this!"
Ellen grins.
"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?" she repeats.
You pout at the camera.
"Flo, I am so sorry. Please still be my friend. I pick Tom."
The crowd roars in approval and you wave a hand at them, laughing.
"Shhhh, guys."
"Tom Holland or Jake Gyllenhaal?" asks Ellen.
"Tom Holland."
"Tom Holland or Hailee Steinfeld?"
"Tom Holland."
"Tom Holland or Niall Horan?"
You hesitate, biting your lip as Tom's frozen grin stares down at you from the photo.
"I…fuck. Tom?" you say, almost as a question.
"So it's Tom?" Ellen grins. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."
You nod, sitting up straight and crossing your legs.
"It's Tom."
Ellen stares straight into the camera as an assistant signals an upcoming ad break. She rests one hand on your shoulder as she addresses the audience.
"Tom Holland, you'd better act quickly. Y/N is currently sitting by her phone, waiting for your call. Don't mess this up."
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
April 2021
You relax into the plush cushion of the chair on Ellen's set once again. You are paying attention, sort of. You nod and laugh in all the right places, offering stories and jokes when needed but your mind is miles away. Ellen can pick up on this and she shifts in her seat.
"Y/N." she says, holding eye contact. "Can I have your phone please?"
Your eyes widen as you reach into the pocket of your oversized blazer, following her request and placing the unlocked device in Ellen's waiting hand.
"I wonder," she says out loud, "who we can get to answer your call?"
"Oh God," you laugh, covering your face. "If no one picks up I'll be so embarrassed."
"The Watermelon Man?" Ellen questions, reading off of the screen. "Shall we call the Watermelon Man, whoever that is?"
You cover your face, laughing.
"Jesus. If Harry Styles doesn't pick up I think I'll throw myself off a cliff."
The phone rings three times before a voice rings out from a noisy background.
"Y/N! How are you?" laughs Harry. "This is a surprise, I have to admit."
"Harry!" you call out, before he can say anything else. "Ellen's hijacked my phone and started ringing people, I'm so sorry."
"Oh, she has?" Harry asks mischievously. "I'll make sure not to mention anything about our upcoming collaboration then…" he trails off and you can practically hear him winking through the phone as he hangs up.
"That absolute fucker," you laugh, rolling your eyes at his spoiler as Ellen is already scrolling through your contacts list again.
"Oh!" she exclaims, eyes bright. "Y/N, I thought you told us you weren't dating anyone? May I ask who 'My Darling 💖' is?"
You freeze on the spot, mouth drying out as you blink at Ellen, desperately trying to jump start your brain into snatching the phone back. You glance over at your manager who is sat stock still, just as shocked as you are.
The phone rings five times and you breathe a sigh of relief. It's 3AM in London right now, he's not going to pick up.
Just as you've collected your heart off of the floor and smoothed your hair down, ready to make a self deprecating joke about this mystery person not picking up, there's a pause and the a collective gasp from the audience as the phone connects.
"Hello my love, is everything alright?" asks Tom in his groggy, raspy morning voice.
Ellen's jaw hits the floor so quickly you're shocked it doesn't fall off entirely.
tysm for reading! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
part 2
5K notes · View notes
shellshocklove · 1 year
Text
snow crush | tom holland
Tumblr media
pairing: tom holland x female!reader
summary: for christmas this year, you and tom had decided to only give each other small presents. but tom had other plans for your christmas present.
warnings: lots of fluff, established relationship, smut 18+ (minors dni!), fingering, praise kink, light degradation, a little voyeurism?
word count: 6.3k
a/n: i’m sorry this is probably the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written. still, i hope you guys like it <3 (also! i do not condone my romanticizing of cold weather in this. i still don’t like it, but i also love it a little bit) i would also like to say a huge thank you to kat (@luciwritesstuff​) for beta reading this a little for me! ily <333 feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! happy reading <3 (i’m still not a writer)
main masterlist
Tumblr media
“Merry Christmas, Tom” your leg brushed against his as you handed him his gift. 
“Thank you my love.”
The soft present was wrapped in shiny paper covered by hundreds of tiny green mistletoes. Finishing it all off, you’d tied a big red ribbon around it where the tag, with your boyfriend’s name, was scribbled in your chicken-scratch cursive. It was a beanie. One you’d knitted him yourself.
Since you and Tom had only been dating for a little under a year, you’d both decided, a few months ago, that you wouldn’t give each other big and extravagant presents for Christmas this year. You’d been racking your brain for weeks on what to get him before you’d come across an old GQ magazine in his office one day, one where he’d been gracing the front page. Flicking through the pages you’d stopped at a picture of him wearing a beanie, and thus an idea had formed in your head. It was a small gift, nothing extravagant as promised, but knitting it yourself would make it special. You quickly found a pattern online, before you hurried to the store to buy the perfect yarn and supplies. Later that same day you were placed in front of your TV, a bad reality show rolling in the background as you knitted every stitch with love. Now you were hoping he’d like it.
“I want you to open yours now!” he said as he handed you a sleek black box adorning a white ribbon.
“What why? I thought we were waiting until Christmas?” you asked.
This Christmas would be your first Christmas as a couple, but sadly you wouldn’t be able to spend it together. This gift exchange between the two of you would be the last time you’d spent together until after the new year. Later, you were off to catch a train, travelling home to see your family for the holidays. And he was doing the same.
“We were but… I want you to open mine now,” he insisted.
You furrowed your eyebrows, “Tom! Is this not a PG present? Did you get me lingerie or something?” you giggled.
Your accusation earned you a small chuckle before he said, “No– but now that you’ve brought it up– I wish I did” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. This earned him a chuckle.
“Please love, would you just open it now?”.
With a playful sigh you did as he asked. You pulled on the ribbon before you lifted the lid of the black box. You raised your eyebrows at him, shooting him a confused expression as you lifted the piece of paper that laid neatly folded in the box. 
“Go on”, he said as you unfolded the paper.
The paper consisted of pictures of snowy mountains, a cosy cabin and skis. He’d cut them out and glued them all together in a makeshift collage. Under his “collage” he’d written:
To my love, Cabin sex for New Year’s?
Looking up from your present, you were even more confused.
“Since we won’t be spending Christmas together this year, I rented us a cabin so we could spend New Year’s together instead,” he grinned, “it’s at the top of a mountain and there’s a ski resort– and even a hot tub!”.
“Toooom! Are you serious?” your heart grew in size at his generosity. 
He only nodded, “I’ve taken care of everything and we’re staying for a week– we’re leaving on Boxing Day!”.
You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Shifting closer to him on the sofa, you cupped his cheek and planted a grateful kiss on his lips. 
“Thank you, Tom! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you kissed him again, “I would love to have cabin sex for New Year’s with you!”. Sealing your promise, you planted another grateful kiss on his lips.
Pulling away, your brows furrowed. “What?” the tone in Tom’s voice suddenly got serious, “What is it?”.
“It’s nothing…” you said unconvincingly.
He gave you an unimpressed look, urging you to say what was on your mind. 
“It’s just that… now my present is gonna look so shitty compared to yours!”
“What? Nooo!” he protested, turning his attention to the forgotten gift in his lap. Ripping off the paper, the marine blue beanie revealed itself to him. Picking it up he studied it, running his fingers along the ribbed yarn.
“Love–” he started.
“I’m sorry it’s nothing special or anything– but I didn’t know what to get you… so I knitted you a beanie.” you said shyly.
“You knitted me a beanie?” he asked, sounding like you’d just gifted him a rare and expensive diamond.
“Yeah–“ you nodded before he cut you off with a kiss. 
“Darling, I love it!”. Then he put it on. Under the ribbed hem, his curls were sticking out, sweetening his appearance. But it didn’t matter. To you he looked just as hot as he’d done in the photos you’d seen of him in GQ.
“How do I look?” he asked you, turning his body to face you. 
“It suits you!” you said, “I think I chose the right colour.”
“It’s super warm and comfortable too! I can wear it on our trip”, he said enthusiastically, making you chuckle. A big smile blossomed on his face. His eyes crinkled as he pulled you closer and into his lap. 
“Yes! I guess you can!” you giggled as you brought your hands up around his neck.
“Maybe it wasn’t such a bad gift after all?” you questioned, a finger toying and twisting around a stray curl at the back of his neck.
“No, it was the perfect gift” he reassured you, “Thank you, my love!” he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a soft and loving kiss.
Tumblr media
“Oh my god!! It’s freezing in here!” you exclaimed as you stepped inside the living room of your rented log cabin.
It was bigger than it had looked like from the outside. The main room of the cabin was the living room with an open kitchen, and the large windows in the west-facing corner revealed the most amazing view of a snowy mountain landscape. Below you, down in the valley, a river curved its way like a snake through grass, dividing the small village in two. Up here in the mountains, the cabins were scattered along a mountain road. There was enough space between each cabin, making them still feel private and secluded, but also close enough making them feel like they belonged together. Outside on the veranda a hot tub was placed in the corner overlooking the valley and mountains.
Inside, the ceilings were tall. The log walls gave the cabin a rustic and cosy feel – like it was taken straight out of all the Christmas movies you’d watched during the last month. The big fireplace was the centrepiece of the room and a sight for sore eyes with how cold you were feeling right now. Rubbing your hands together, failing to warm them up, you made your way over to the fireplace. In the hall you heard a ruckus as Tom carried your bags and groceries inside. The fireplace was already made and the only thing you had to do was reach for the matches, and let the flame catch on the scrunched-up newspaper.
Even though your flight had been easy, the drive to the cabin had been a long one. With the sun setting so early this time of year, the sky had been bathed in blue light by the time you two drove away from the airport in your rented car. The drive had been relatively easy. Tom was a good driver, and the weight of his hand on your thigh soothed you as you watched snow covered pine trees passing you by.
You couldn’t help but think about how grateful you were for Tom’s gift. You’d always loved winter and the snow. There was just something about the smell of the crisp air when the thermometer dipped below freezing. You loved how your cheeks would almost go numb, and how your eyebrows and eyelashes would get coated in a thin layer of frost. And you loved the feeling of relief when you finally stepped into the warmth of a cabin, after being outside the whole day in the cold.
It would be a lie to say that this was your first time in a cabin like this, situated in a scenery like this. No, you were no stranger to trips like these. Growing up, the money other families would spend on an all-inclusive charter flight to Spain, or Italy, or Greece, your family would save and spend on skiing trips during winter break. As a child you’d loved the thrill and the spike of adrenaline you’d get as you’d raced downhill on your skis. The well-deserved hot chocolate at the end of a full day of skiing, had also been a highlight for you as a child. And later, as you’d gotten older, the hot chocolate had been replaced by a beer and Après-ski. As far as you were concerned – Tom had gotten you the perfect gift.
You had missed him over Christmas, and you had missed him in general. The last few months he’d been working a lot, meaning a facetime call at the end of the day had been the only way you’d been able to see him lately. Spending a whole week together was a luxury you hadn’t been accustomed to – and you were planning on taking advantage of every moment you got to spend together.
“I found these hot water bottles in the cupboard– do you want one now or should I just put them in our bed?”. 
Looking up from the flames dancing before you, you shifted your gaze to Tom where he’d appeared in the doorway, holding up a hot water bottle in each hand.
“Now, maybe?” you answered, “Once I get the fire going, I can get started on dinner?”
It wasn’t anything fancy. A frozen pizza you’d bought at the supermarket down in the village before you’d made your way up the winding mountain road. But after such a long day of travelling, heating up a frozen pizza was about all the energy you had left in your body for cooking.
Seated on the sofa in front of the fireplace, with a hot water bottle resting on each of your tighs, and a shared thick wool blanket draped over both your bodies, you ate in peace. It was still cold in the cabin, but the fire burned hot, and the pizza warmed your tummies.
Content and full you snuggled closer to Tom, trying to chase more of his warmth. The warmth coming from the hot water bottle in your lap, and your shared blanket, not enough for you.
“Are you still cold, my love?” he asked you as he slipped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body. 
Nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck you nodded as you let out a quiet, “Yeah”.
“Even your nose is cold” he chuckled as he brought a hand down to cup your face, making you lock eyes with him. His thumb ran softly over your cheeks, soothing you and warming you at the same time.
“Maybe we need to think of other ways to get you all warmed up, huh?” he asked as a cheeky grin grew on his face. 
Looking up at him with moony eyes you gave him a small nod, “Yes– I think so.”
“Yeah?” his grin grew even wider as he leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips, teasing you. He pulled away too fast for your liking, your face following his as you let out a quiet whine.
“Oh?” he teased, making you let out another whine, “What’s the matter baby?”.
You didn’t answer him, instead you leaned your face closer to his, chasing his lips for another kiss. One that he granted you. As the kiss grew deeper, your hand found a home resting on his shoulder. A sneaky hand found your waist, rubbing teasing circles into your skin over your sweater and the layers underneath. Your hot water bottle was abandoned as he started pushing your back down against the cushions of the sofa. Over you, two strong arms held him up. You parted your legs for him, opening them for him to slot between. Hovering over you, he leaned down, brushing his lips over yours.
“I think I may know of a way to get you all warmed up” he mumbled against your lips.
Tumblr media
Your stomach hurt with laughter as you watched Tom fall on his ass for maybe the hundredth time today.
“Stop laughing!” he whined, “and help me”. 
His whining made you laugh even more, but you made your way a few metres up the hill to where he’d fallen. The tracks your skis left in the densely packed snow looked like the fishbone of a whale. Ripping off the ski pole on your right hand, you reached out your hand. Around you other downhill skiers and snowboarders were racing by at a fast pace. 
“I thought you said you were good at snowboarding” you teased. Your comment earned you a frown in return from Tom.
He grabbed your hand, but instead of pulling himself up, he pulled on your arm. With a hard jerk you were falling, your skis giving out from under you, crashing right into his chest. You managed to catch your fall a little with, both your hands on either side of his body, steadying yourself. But with your skis giving out from under you, you fell with a harder force than anticipated, slamming your helmet into his with a loud clank!
“Ouch”,Tom cried.
“Ouch!” you whined. 
You tried to sit up, but with how steep the slope was, your skis only started sliding down the slope, making you fall right back down against his chest. Tom was laughing hard under you. Your clumsy attempt to stand, making him giggle even harder.
“Stop laughing” you tried to scold, but one look at his laughing face made your mouth quirk at the corners, and soon you were laughing too.
“I am good at snowboarding,” he defended, “or I was like five years ago” he chuckled.
“Tom, I can’t believe you almost talked me into going straight to the black slope when you can’t even stand for more than ten seconds! You would’ve broken every bone in your body, I reckon, had we done the black slope!”.
“And then you would’ve had to call for a helicopter to come pick me up. Spend months in the hospital with me, nursing me back to health, fetching things for me while I’m limping around�� like a shell of the man I used to be” he teased.
You gave him a stern look, “Please don’t put that into the world… you keep manifesting your life– I don’t want you to manifest that.”
“How about I manifest me and you down at the café by the ski lift, drinking hot chocolates instead?” he said with a raised brow. 
Giggling you nodded your head, “Sounds like a much better use of your manifestation powers”.
Pecking your lips, he sealed the deal on your new plans. Then he helped you stand, making sure your skis were steadily planted on the snow-covered ground. You reached out your hand again, helping him stand horizontally on the slope to make sure he wasn’t sliding away before was steady on his feet. Then you two slowly made your way down the slope.
In the steeper parts of the slope (he’d convinced you he was more than capable of trying the red slope), you skied behind him slowly, carving big swings as you watched him closely – ready to step in and help him if he fell again.
Safely back down at the bottom of the slope you crossed your right leg behind your left, pushing down on your ski bindings. You did the same with your other foot, while Tom loosened his own bindings.
“Ready, love?” he asked you after he’d watched you gather your skis and ski poles.
“Yes!” you said brightly, sending him a warm smile.
“Want me to carry those for you?” he asked you, reaching his left arm out towards your skis. Under his right arm he was carrying his snowboard.
“No, it’s okay Tom!” you started. His mouth formed into a pout at your rejection, making you quickly add: “You can carry this instead”. You slotted your gloved hand in his, making his features soften.
Hand in hand you made your way over to the café as you listened to Tom excitingly babble on about how he’d made it down the whole piste without falling. You always thought he looked so extra cute when he got all excited like this. His eyes sparkled like the crystals in the snow. The cold had made his cheeks turn rosy, and the brown curls, sticking out from under his helmet and beanie, had turned white with frost. You were sure you were looking at him with eyes big as moons.
“Here you go, my love!” Tom sang as he sat down your hot chocolates on the table. It was a generous cup, the top overflowing with whipped cream and tiny marshmallows. While he got you two your drinks, you’d found a table by the window looking out over the ski lift.
“Thank you, my love!” you parroted.
“I’ll be right back” he said as he hurried off towards the counter again. Taking a sip of your hot chocolate, your gaze shifted out the window while you waited. You watched the people standing in the queue for the lift and chuckled to yourself as you watched a few people struggle to sit down correctly.
The sound of a plate sliding across the table made you turn your head again, watching Tom slide into the chair opposite you. When he looked up at you after shuffling out of his jacket, he let out a short chuckle.
“What?” you questioned.
“You got a little…” he leaned forward, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, “There you go” he said with a swipe of his finger over the tip of your nose. When he leaned back in his chair again, you didn’t miss the way he licked the cream from his finger.
“Oh my god!” you exclaimed as you finally looked down at the plate he’d sat down before you. It was the biggest cinnamon bun you’d ever seen in your life. It covered the whole plate.
“Yeah, I know!” he chuckled, “They just looked so good I had to get us one”.
“I think it’s bigger than my head!” you chuckled, grabbing the cinnamon bun with both hands and holding it up in front of your face.
“It is bigger than your head” Tom chuckled. “Wait! Don’t put it down– I need to take a pic”.
You did as he said, continuing to hold up the cinnamon bun until you heard the familiar sound of Tom taking a photo with his phone.
“Did you get it?, you asked. 
“Yeah! Look”, he chuckled showing you the photo he’d just taken. The cinnamon bun covered your whole face, only the top of your beanie sticking out over it. It made you chuckle too, the sheer size of it.
“Is it okay if I post it to my story when we get back home?” he asked while you put the cinnamon bun back down and tore off a piece.
“You want to do that?” you asked a little surprised, “I thought we weren’t ready to be official like that yet.”
You’d been together for long enough for your relationship to be committed and serious. But Tom had some preservation against making your relationship official to the whole world, and not just to your family and friends. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the world to know, it was just that he didn’t want you to receive so much attention or possibly any hate, which was something you weren’t used to.
“I want it if you want it!” he said, “I love you– I’m not scared to show anyone that.”
His confession went straight to your heart where you felt it squeeze. You reached out your hand over the table to fit it with his.
“I love you too, Tom! And if you think we’re ready– it’s okay with me.”
“Okay then” he smiled. He lifted your hand, bringing it to his face where he placed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.
“I’ll post it when we get back home after New Year’s– I won’t tag you or anything.”
With a heart full of love for the man sitting opposite you, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to be his – and for him to be yours. Especially now, when he’d told you he was ready to take such a big step in your relationship. You drank your hot chocolates while you shared the world’s largest cinnamon bun, and later, when you walked out the café Tom was sporting a new chocolate covered smile.
Over the next few days Tom’s snowboarding only got better and better as you’d spent every day on the slopes. Soon he was starting to show off, carving hard in the swings, and spraying you with snow – teasing you. Soon you were showing off too, taking more chances and racing fast down the piste. One time you even went off-piste, your skis sinking through the powdered snow as you dodged tree after tree with Tom on your heel. All of the skiing made your heart full, and seeing Tom so happy doing an activity you grew up loving, made it grow double in size. 
Tumblr media
“Wait for me!” you giggled as you quickly sat down your winter shoes on the veranda deck. 
Looking up from where you’d bent down to slip on your shoes, you watched Tom’s backside quickly run over to the bubbling hot tub. A bottle of champagne in one hand, and two glasses in the other.
It was freezing outside. The snow covered the whole veranda deck except for the small path making its way towards the hot tub that Tom had shovelled earlier. As you stepped outside you felt a wave of goosebumps prickle over your entire body. Finally with your shoes on, you sprinted towards the hot tub, your bikini clad body only covered by a small towel resting over your shoulders.
Over by the hot tub, Tom had already jumped in. His hands were raised as he tried his best to get settled without dropping your glasses and champagne into the hot bubbling water below. By the hot tub you shook off your towel, quickly discarding your shoes next to Tom’s. Swinging your right foot over the edge of the hot tub, a squeal left your mouth as your other, naked foot, stepped right in the cold snow.
The water was scolding hot. Or at least you thought it was, after running practically naked outside in the freezing temperatures. You quickly sat down, chasing the warmth of the hot bubbles and the comforting steam rising from the water. From the hot tub you had a fantastic view of the valley below and the mountains towering above it. Half an hour earlier the sun had dipped below the mountain, as it slowly got darker and darker around you everything was bathed in a cooling blue light. Down below in the valley you could see warm lights coming from the houses like glowing stars in the winter sky. Looking down on all the lights, you made yourself believe you could pinpoint the exact house where the restaurant, where you’d booked a table for later, was situated.
Opposite you Tom had sat down the glasses and the bottle of champagne on the edge of the hot tub. He was naked except for his swim trunks and the beanie you’d knitted him for Christmas. Over Christmas you’d knitted yourself a matching beanie, one that now adorned your head.
Sinking a little deeper into the hot tub, your entire body except for your face now submerged, you leaned your head back resting it against the edge. After four long days in a row spent with skis on your feet your muscles had become tired and sore. It had been a few years since you’d skied so much in such a short amount of time, and muscles you’d forgotten you had, had been put through the ringer. The warmth of the water and the bubbles massaged your muscles, and a sigh of relief left your lips.
“Feeling good?” Tom asked, followed by the loud pop of the champagne cork. Foam spewed into the hot tub before Tom filled up your glasses.
“Orgasmic,” you said, a content smile resting on your features.
“Better than last night?” he teased handing you your flute of champagne, while he sat down next to you.
“Maybe?” you teased, taking the glass from him and taking a sip. The tight knit bubbles of the wine tasted sweet on your tongue, making you lean your head on Tom’s shoulder in contentment.
“Maybe?” he exclaimed, “You sure about that darling?”, he dipped his head down. His lips ghosted over yours, while you felt a hand snake around your shoulders. “I think you and I remember last night very differently” he said with a cocky bass to his voice. 
You leaned forward, hoping to catch his lips in a kiss, but he moved away from you. A small chuckle escaping his lips as a small pout now adorned your face.
“I remember you being so wet and needy for me– not a single coherent word except for ‘Tom’, and ‘please’ and ‘more’ leaving your lips while you came on my cock so many times– I lost count” he moved away from you when the last word left his lips, taking a sip of his champagne.
You didn’t know what to say as you felt heat warm your cheeks (and not because of the steam). Memories of last night, and every night since you’d arrived to be completely honest, blended together in a supercut in your head. You felt yourself getting worked up, your tights involuntary clenching together.
“What?” he teased, dipping his head down again, “You got nothing to say now?”.
You bit down on your bottom lip, “Maybe you could remind me? Make me remember again?” you asked innocently.
A sinful smile blossomed on his lips at your words. “Can’t remind you if you're gonna sit so far away from me” he said as his hand found the thick of your tight, teasing circles into your skin, while the other put his glass down.
Getting up from your seat you put down your flute of champagne at the edge of the hot tub. Then you stepped closer to Tom, before you sat down on his lap – one leg on either side of his body.
“Is this better?” you asked.
“Perfect baby” his hands came up to wrap around your body, pulling you closer to his chest.
“Do you remember what the first thing I did was?” he asked. A warm glow, coming from the light inside the cabin, bathed over his features, softening them. But his eyes were dark with lust.
You did remember, he’d taken his time with you, kissing you all over to get you worked up. But as to continue this little game you’d only just started, you shook your head.
“No?” his mouth formed a little o, mimicking the last letter of the word. You shook your head again.
“Well… firstly I gave you some kisses– like this,” he leaned closer, pressing his lips against yours. 
He started out slow and languid, before he deepened the kiss by brushing his tongue along your bottom lip. You instantly opened yourself up to him. Your hands snaking around his neck. On your arms, goosebumps erupted in the wake of your movement, having left the warm water for the first time since you’d sat down.
Breaking the kiss Tom peppered soft feathery kisses along from the corner of your mouth, and down the side of your neck. You felt yourself getting more and more turned on. If you weren’t submerged in water right now, you were sure a wet patch would have formed in your panties. You shifted a little on his lap, your core brushing up against the bulge growing in his swim trunks. A moan escaped your lips at the swipe of his tongue grazing over the sweet spot behind your ear.
“I think someone is starting to remember” he teased, gently biting the skin on your neck, making you moan again.
“A little,” you breathed out, “but I don’t remember everything yet… I think I still need some more reminding.”
The small chuckle Tom breathed into your neck at your words, travelled straight to your heart where you felt it squeeze. His hands around your waist started to journey its way up your body and over your arms where they settled around your neck. More goosebumps erupted in the wake of his soft touch.
He pulled away from your face a little, watching as the pointer finger on his right hand traced the string of your bikini top. The fabric of your bikini was thin and left nothing to Tom’s imagination. The peaks of your nipples peeking through the fabric.
“It’s cold” you said shyly. 
“I’m sure it is” he said, a hint of condescending sarcasm in his voice.
His finger continued to trace along the fabric of your bikini top before it circled your clothed nipple. He was teasing you more and more, making your breathing start to come out in laboured breaths.
Then he slowly pulled the fabric to the side, exposing your breasts to the cold air. His finger circled your nipple again, making you let out a small “oh”. His other hand left your neck, landing on the thick of your tight, where it snaked its way under it to help you sit up in his lap. You did as he wanted, sitting up a little so your breasts would be closer to his face.
Looking down at him, a cheeky grin adorned on his face. Leaning forward, he pressed soft kisses to the top of your breasts. He started on the right, making his way down the valley and up again over your left – never breaking eye contact.
The tension in the air between the two of you was thick with arousal. Your heart beating faster and faster with each press of his kisses. His teasing was brutally slow, but as slow and brutal as it was, you wouldn’t want it any other way. He knew exactly what to do to your body, what you liked, and what made you squirm under his touch.
When you thought you couldn’t handle it anymore, he swiped his tongue over your nipple, taking it into his mouth. Your body jerked with pleasure while a soft whine escaped your lips. He sucked on your nipple, giving it all the attention you’d longed for after so much teasing. He let go of it with a pop, moving on to the other, giving it just as much attention. Your breathing came out in heavy breaths and moans. Your cunt so wet and neglected, it was starting to hurt.
“Now I think you remember,” he said after he’d let go of your other nipple, looking up at your face from below. Your hands had found the top of his head, steadying yourself. Your fingers gripped the knit of his beanie tightly.
“I almost remember now,” you breathed out, “but there’s one thing that’s a little blurry”. You grabbed the hand that had been resting on the back of your tight since he’d made you stand up in his lap. Resuming your previous position, you sat back down. With a hand around his wrist, you guided his hand slowly down your tummy and towards the hem of your bikini bottom.
“I think you touched me here,” you said innocently, “but I can’t remember how you did it.”
“Want me to show you baby?” he asked, his finger teasing around the elastic hem. 
“Yes, please!” you nodded eagerly.
“So polite for me” he praised, his hand slipping into your bikini bottom. “Asking me to touch you– like a good girl,” his finger grazed over your clit making you jump at his touch, “even saying please.”
Then he started pressing down on your clit, rubbing it in tight circles just the way he knew you liked. Your mouth fell open in a small gape as you fought to keep your eyes open.
“You like that don’t you?” he asked with a draw of his finger through your slick folds, “Me rubbing your little clit out here on the veranda where anyone can see you” his finger teased you opening. Pushing just the tip of his finger inside.
“Where anyone can see you be such a slut for me.”
Then he pushed all the way inside your cunt, the heel of his hand pressing hard against your budding clit. Your head fell back a little as he earned himself a moan. He didn’t move right away but curled his fingers, so the pad pressed right against the spot inside that made you see stars.
“Oh, Tom” you whined.
“I know baby, I know… feels good, doesn’t it?” his lips found your neck again.
“Uh-huh…” you nodded, “you’re making me feel so good– thank you.”
“You’re cute–” he said, his finger starting to move inside you, “thanking me for fingering you.”
He found a steady rhythm. With every thrust of his finger, a smear of his palm pressed against your clit. Your breathing went from laboured to erratic as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm.
“More please?” you breathed out.
“Want another finger? Is that what you want, baby?” you only nodded, not trusting your words right now. “Since you’ve been so good– saying please and thank you– I think you deserve another finger.”
He pulled out for just a second, before he entered you once again in a single thrust. The stretch of the second finger and the new, and faster pace he’d set, brought you closer and closer. With each thrust he hit your spot. When his other hand came down to brush over your clit you didn’t know how much longer you could take it, before you’d clench down hard around his fingers in bliss.
“Tom,” you warned, but he didn’t let up his pace.
“Are you close? Want me to know you’ll come around my fingers soon?” he asked with a smug tint to his voice.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you moaned in time with the thrusts of his fingers.
“C-can I come? P-please can I come?” you begged.
“Yes, baby– you can come. Come on my fingers like a good girl.”
And with one more hit to your g-spot, and a brush of his fingers over your clit, you did. You clenched down hard around his fingers as the wave of your orgasm washed over you. Your body shook with pleasure, while moans of his name escaped your lips. He coaxed you through your orgasm with gentle draws of his fingers while he only put pressure on your clit, knowing you’d be too sensitive for his usual brushing circles.
“That’s it… that’s it” you heard him say, “good girl… such a good girl for me”.
You slumped your body against his, tiredness taking over your body as you came down from your orgasm. With one gentle movement he pulled his fingers from your cunt, before he wrapped his arms around your body in a hug. One of his arms stroked you lovingly down your back, as your breathing slowly steadied.
Shifting a little on his lap in an attempt to sit up, you felt his hard bulge underneath you. The small brush of your clit against him, made you whine a little with sensitivity. You were about to ask him if he wanted you to take care of him, but you were cut off before a single word left your lips, by a loud rumble coming from his stomach.
You couldn’t help but giggle, and apparently your giggle was contagious. Then your stomach let out a loud rumble. Your tummy too, screaming out for food. The giggling then transformed into a full on laughing fit between the both of you.
When you’d both calmed down a little Tom said, “Maybe we should start to get ready for dinner my love?”
“But I wanted to take care of you too– like you took care of me.” you whined.
“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me when we get back from dinner.”
And you did. After teasing him all night during dinner playing footsie under the table, giving him sneaky touches, and innocently making innuendoes. You’d dropped to your knees the minute the door shut, and you were back inside the cabin. After fumbling a little with the belt on his dress pants, you’d taken him out, already half-hard after all your teasing, and given him a sloppy blowjob in the hall.
Later you’d moved to the bed, where he’d basically ripped off your dress, before he fucked you hard into the mattress as the fireworks outside started to go off. You both came with a bang. And after, your chests heaved as your breaths were caught. His cum going cold on your stomach. When you’d finally calmed down a little, you turned your head slightly to the digital clock placed on the bed side table. It showed: 00:06.
Turning your head back towards Tom you said, “Happy New Year Tom!”.
“Happy New Year, my love!” he answered, pressing his lips against yours in a loving New Year’s Kiss. You knew this was going to be a good year!
Tumblr media
tags: @hollandweather​, @mayal0pez​, @lnmp89​, @ironladsblog​, @anime-parker​, @melodicheauxxo-writes​, @parkersdahlia​, @devotion​, @peterparkerfilms​, @tomdutch​, @t-lostinworlds​, @theslayerofthevampires​, @thepowerthismanhasoverme​, @userholland​, @kingjohn36, @brucesferret​, @bbyvanessaa, @crvshnburnn​
(if your url’s crossed out pls go into your visibility settings and make sure your blog isn’t hidden!)
Tumblr media
817 notes · View notes
shawnxstyles · 4 months
Text
man-handled
DATE: DECEMBER 4, 2023
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.
request: i thought it was but i guess not??
words: 5.1k
warning: SMUT (f- receiving (multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, throat-fucking), m- receiving (oral), slight daddy/sir kink, degrading, name-calling, dirty talk), language, and probably the shittiest ending ever
note: i’m so tired y’all
mafia!tom x reader
Tumblr media
You weren’t usually like this. You weren’t known for being so horny to the point where you can’t think straight. You were known to be quiet, shy, and even a little innocent. But sometimes Tom brought out the worst in you. But you learned to like that side of you. The secret, dark, and dirty side that only Tom could unveil from you. Watching you unfold and come undone–no pun intended–gave Tom a deep sense of growing pride.
Every day he made it more obvious that he was the only one and that there would never be anyone else for you.
What was causing you to act so strange was a new obsession for you. You had been with Tom intimately numerous times, but he never failed to pleasure you immensely. You two have explored each other’s bodies inside and out, yet your mind still found things to obsess over. Currently, it was his arms.
His arms.
They were usually covered with different brand-name suits, all varying from gray to black. The sleeves always wrapped around his biceps snuggly, hinting at only some of his bulkiness. Usually, the sight of him in his suits when he left for work had you thinking about how hot he looked overall. But as you watched him leave this morning, your eyes couldn’t stop fixating on the packed muscle you knew was hiding under the black suit’s sleeves.
You’re not sure, but you think this newest obsession started last night by complete accident. That accident being Tom’s overwhelming dominance and control when he was fucking you.
Although you were on the quieter and more innocent side, it amazed both Tom and you that you were secretly fucked in the head just like him. You hadn’t even known it until you stumbled upon Tom. Sometimes, you think that he molded you to indulge in his kinks and fantasies, but he’s never forced you to do anything. If anything, it’s always you shyly asking him to do something more when a dirty thought pops into your head. He always makes sure to degrade yet praise you in the most addicting and twisted way.
Last night, while you and Tom were simply watching a movie, things got heated (it was never just going to be a movie). Tom had gotten home early and just wanted to relax. But the makeout between you two got hotter and you both got needier. When you moved yourself to his lap, gently rocking into him, his strong hands forced you to stay still. You remembered the bruises present on his knuckles and wondered if they still hurt when he squeezed your hips. You whined into his mouth before he picked you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder as you squealed.
“Always so greedy.”
Tom has picked you up and threw you over his shoulder before. Maybe the other times he was gentler about it, afraid to hurt his little princess even if you were completely okay with it. But that night, he didn’t seem to give a fuck. He had a difficult day at work, the evidence clear on his wounded hands, so maybe he took some of that aggressive out on you. After he had brought you upstairs, you were extremely drenched as his bulky arms tossed you on the bed.
But after that, he apologized for being so rough. He explained how he had a tough day and he was sorry for taking it out on you. It resulted in long, sweet, loving sex that you adored all the time because you got to see the part of him that no one sees. Just like that secret part in you that only he sees. Except, you weren’t yearning for his softness after being man-handled. No, you were looking to be fucked. Hard. You wanted it rough, messy, degrading, and straight sinful. The nastiest scenes flooded your mind through the night, hoping that you could relive one of them with Tom. As he fucked slow into you last night, your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his bulging arms holding himself over his head. You watched as the muscles would work and his veins would pop out when he did a push-up, and it had you clenching around him pathetically.
What were you going to tell him when he came home?
For the rest of the day, you wandered around the house needily. You cleaned, you read, you reorganized, but nothing distracted you enough from your fucked-up thoughts and the pulse between your legs. One part of you felt ashamed for hiding it from Tom, but the other half of you didn’t care. It felt like you had your own little secret that no one knew. But then again, you really wanted to tell him because you wanted to see the results. And feel them…
When it was late into the evening, seemingly later than when Tom usually returns, you sighed to yourself. You brought yourself to bed, too worn out from your own desires nagging you down all day. If only Tom didn’t have a rule about touching yourself while he was gone, you would have been able to handle your dirty situation all by yourself. But no, Tom had to be insanely controlling and sexy about everything, just making your situation even harder to deal with. Just as your bare feet slip into the comforter, you hear the hefty front door open. Your head shoots up, instantly on high alert of Tom’s arrival. Just when you thought your body was relaxing, the sound of his approaching footsteps seem to heighten your hormone levels, veering away from homeostasis once again.
Tom peeks his head through the ajar bedroom door, body hunching over the door handle. He doesn’t say a word until he realizes that you are in fact awake, opening the door wider. He skulks closer to you, his body bulky and stoic just how you remembered it being this morning when he left. His hands at his sides had those infamous cuts and bruises that you always wrapped with bandages. He never wanted you to, you demanded that you do. Your heart pounds as your tummy tickles, wishing he could read your mind and just handle you the way you want him to with those bruised knuckles.
“Missed you today, Princess,” his thick hand rose to caress the hair on your head. You feel yourself lean into his touch, yearning it always no matter how intense or soft. You always craved to just feel him.
“Missed you too, Daddy. So much,” your hand reaches up and encloses around his wrist, squeezing softly. His hand gently pulls away as he sits beside you on the bed, and you nearly whimper at the loss of contact.
“What d’you do today?” Tom asked simply and softly, genuinely curious about your day. But finally with him next to you, your mind has gotten all fuzzy, and you feel like you’ve forgotten every word you’ve known. Your eyes haven’t drifted away from his arm since he pulled away from you, mind encompasses in the way he moves.
“I cleaned. I reorganized the shelves in your office. Oh, and I read too…”
Tom tried to listen to your dull list of activities, but he couldn’t help but notice how distracted you seemed. Maybe you were tired from all the chore-like things you did. But your eyes weren’t blinking as they started at his chest, clearly hazy with something. Something familiar.
“Yeah? And what did you read?”
“Um… I don’t remember,” your head started to tilt to the side as you licked your lips, lost in whatever thought was clouding your mind currently. Tom’s mouth curved just the slightest bit up at the airheaded state of you, wondering if you could be anymore adorable. The fact that you didn’t remember what you read, knowing you love reading, is what stood out to Tom the most. Something was obviously off, Tom just couldn’t figure it out yet.
“How was work? Do you need me to patch you up?”
“Work was stressful. People don’t listen and then ask why m’so harsh. And idiots like to go behind m’back and take stuff from me,” Your eyes fall onto his wounded hands.
“S’not nice…”
“Not nice at all, huh?” Tom reaches up to caress your face ever-so gently, not wanting to touch you too much with his open cuts.
“Come on. Let me fix you up. Please?”
Now, how could Tom ever say no to you?
Sometimes, Tom could be stubborn. Like right now, where he refused to sit down while you tended to his wounds because he’s saying that it won’t take long enough to sit. You want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you don’t want him to see your attitude and punish you later. Or maybe you do…
He had his suit jacket off now and just his crisp, white buttoned shirt rolled up to the elbows. The skin that was untouched was smooth under your delicate touch, but his scars and fresh cuts, which were most likely old ones reopened, were rugged. You dabbled light pressure as you wiped away dry blood with the wet cloth, not afraid of hurting him because he barely blinks when he punches someone. He surely wasn’t phased by his girl cleaning up his damages like a little puppy trying to lick themselves better. That’s exactly what your touch felt like—little puppy licks and gentle pawing.
And when you applied the cooling ointment, his pain was eased, but he doesn’t think it was from the cream. No, he is a firm believer that you are his medicine. Your words, your touch, your soul was healing. Although he was your opposite in every way and he hurt people for a living while you mended people’s aches with your mere presence, he could never hurt you. Never.
So, when you’re all finished wrapping his hands with that rough cloth that’s an excuse for a bandage (it was all he had stored), he’s shocked by your blunt statement. You were rarely blatant about anything, especially when it had to do with sexual situations.
“Why did you apologize to me last night?” You just threw your words at him, hoping he caught them. He didn’t know that when you were fixing him up you were ogling his arms like a child in a toy store during the Christmas season. His veins were green, constant exploitation of work causing them to pop out more. He looked delicious and it made you crave him more than ever. Even more with his ripped up hands. You wanted the roughness and pain and the power to be instilled on you. You wanted him to take his particularly hard day out on you. Tom blinked, silently leading you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He tried to recall exactly when he apologized to you, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Clearly, work had gotten to his head too much.
“I don’t remember what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, darling,” Without a thought, he begins unbuttoning his shirt with his bandaged hands. He looked like something of a fancy man mixed with an underground boxer. Not the type of fancy that shows off his money, but the type that’s humble and real and works hard for what he wants. A man who made himself. And that’s exactly who Tom is; someone who built himself.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you’re under the spotlight. But you took a breath. “Last night, when we were having… sex… you apologized for being really rough.”
He flatly hums, indicating that you need to continue while he buttons his shirt. You could just faint from his sculpted, stony beauty that was hidden behind a few buttons and fabric. Unlike his knuckles, his skin was smooth and untouched besides his scattered tattoos. He had faint scars that you could barely see unless you were looking really hard (which in your case maybe you were). His build and figure used to intimidate you, but now, you’re just awed.
“Well… I kind of liked when you were rough…” Your words dragged out, especially as your head tilted down to face your lap in embarrassment. “You’ve never really been like that before and it caught me off guard, but in a really good way! I didn’t realize I wanted something like that until… yeah.” You weren’t embarrassed that you were attracted to your own boyfriend’s man-handling, but by the fact that you had to admit that to get what you wanted. Sometimes, you wish he could just read your mind, but life wasn’t a movie or a book, even if it felt like that from time to time with the life you live. Dating a mafia man was insane to visualize–those things only really happened in books. Or so you thought.
“You did?” You softly hummed, nodding your head. You could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest. You didn’t think Tom would reject you. That’s not why your heart was beating faster than its usual tempo. You were anticipated and your organ couldn’t help but be thrilled at what was to come. “You liked when I took my day out on you? Liked when I was a little mean?”
You crossed your ankles that had been hanging off the bed, biting your lip. You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, because you got slightly dizzy from the movement along with your amped hormones. You had that beat in your chest, but you also had that throbbing pulse in your lower body that has been aching since you watched him leave earlier that day. In the most Tom-way possible, he stalks over to you, torso bare while his trousers remain on. He’s slow and calculated, and it makes you even more anxious. When your eyes finally look up at him, he’s glaring down at you with blown-out pupils, a darkness swirling with the brown color of his irises.
He’s close to you now, inches away from touching you. But he doesn’t. You hear the clink of his belt loosening around his waist before it’s adoring his hand. His quick movements cause the leather to slap your bicep, making you gasp, but what he doesn’t do is apologize. You’re not sure if what he did was purposeful. Did he want to startle you and show you how rough he really could be? You never lingered too long on the idea of him using a belt on you, but if Tom was going to be man-handling you more often, then the thought would probably be more recurring. Tom shrugs off his pants as if they’re a bother, and by the large bulge outlined in his briefs, it seems as if they really are.
You hadn’t even realized you were licking your lips until Tom’s hand came up around your throat, thumb pulling it out. He tucks his thumb into your mouth, gripping it tightly.
“Drooling over m’cock and I’m not even fully undressed yet,” he removes his thumb before lightly tapping your cheek. “On your knees. Need to fill that filthy mouth.”
The devil on your shoulder wants to be a brat and not listen to him, but you’ve been craving this all day. If Tom knew what you wanted–which he did–his punishment to you would just be not giving it to you. And that’s not your ideal plan at the moment. So, you slide off the edge of the bed and onto the floor at his feet. The first thing he does is spread your thighs open with his ankle.
“You don’t get to squeeze y’pretty little thighs together while sucking me off. That’s rude, pet. Get as wet as you want, but if you close y’legs, you’re not comin’ tonight. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Your hands were waiting anxiously by your sides, clawing at the skin on your thighs. Your pussy was already clenching around its own wetness, unable to close due to his new limit.
“It talks,” his tone was sinister and demeaning. The kind that would make someone’s eyes twitch and hands fist in an argument out of irritation. But his works were fueling some type of sick need inside of you that needed to be sedated, and this seemed to be the only way to do it. And you didn’t mind it one bit. You fucking loved it. “Who knew such a slut would be so obedient?”
You knew better than to respond to that rhetorical question. Instead, you patiently wait for his smirk to rise in cocky pride before he finally slips off his briefs. Like every time you’ve seen his cock, it’s pretty. You didn’t know they were supposed to look so yummy and dream-like. He was smooth with inklings of hair scattered down at the base and his tip was a cute coral color that grew an angry red when he was hard. From the looks of it, he was pretty hard. His tip was leaking that delicious pre-cum you were dying to taste, even if you’ve had it thousands of times before. Having to sit and stare at his glory without touching was some type of punishment, you think.
His hand latches onto the base and the other grips the back of your head. He pushes you closer, tapping your cheek with his tip. You suck in a breath, readying to take him.
“You know what to do if it’s too much. And it will be.”
Tom shoves his cock into mouth once you’re open wide enough. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size or explore his prick like he usually does. This time he’s quick and harsh like he’s trying to beat some type of record. But he’s still just as calculated as he always is, and you know he’s not just going to come fast because he can. Most men do that all the time when they want to get off briskly, but Tom wasn’t like that. He liked to take his time and appreciate the moment, edging you both just a little to make it a little fun. He always edged himself more though, forcing orgasms out of you before you would even touch him.
Your cunt pulsates around nothing, trying to grasp the pleasure he is holding from you. Hands clawing at his meaty thighs until your nails break the skin barrier. Moans attempt to escape your mouth, but are instantly shoved right back down your throat from his thick cock. Tom drills into you with no mercy, causing saliva to cascade down your chin in long strings. The muscles in your jaw ache from their open stance, begging for a break that you would never get. If it was too much you could easily tap his thigh a few times and it would all be over, but that’s exactly what you don’t want. You love that he came home after a stressful day and you could make him feel better. You didn’t want your limitations to restrict his maximum abilities when you secretly wanted more to begin with.
“Look at you letting me fuck this throat. This whiny, little throat and your filthy mouth. Always so fuckin’ needy for it,” his grip on your hair intensified, stilling your head from any movements you might subconsciously make. You’re not surprised when the tears finally start to leak from your eyes, rolling down your face in wavering streams rather than small rivulets. “I’m so big I made you a crybaby. That good, sweetheart?”
There were no words that were able to leave your stuffed mouth, only rumbles of moans that vibrated around his cock so dirtily that his head was falling back. Deep, guttural groans emitted from his rough throat, his movements never faulting. Even when you feel the tip of him twitching in the back of your mouth, he doesn't stop.
“Take it. I’m going to come and you’re going to take it. All you wanted was to be a storage for my cum, right?” Tom’s words were cruel and degrading, but they were the exact thing that got you off. Your stomach churned in lust, feeling a bit neglected, yet pleasured by him fucking your mouth.
He was going all out tonight and you didn’t want anything less. Tom didn’t even give you a warning about when he was coming, he just wanted you to take it. And who were you to defy him? When ropes of his much-needed release fired from his prick, you made sure to swallow every drop. He slowly removes himself from your mouth as your jaw aches immensely. Saliva and cum were lathered around your chin, coating your lips with the taste of him. Your hand lifts up to massage your jaw as you look up at the flames of lust in Tom’s eyes. You notice that there’s slight hesitation; he wants to default back into a caring lover rather than a dominant one. But even with the soreness in your jaw, you manage a smirk to let him know that you’re fine. You’re more than fine, and you’re more than ready to continue the rest of the night. You know that it will be your turn soon too at some point, right? That throat-fuck was torture for your sopping cunt. You’re mind-dizzyingly horny.
“What’s the matter? Your lip is all trembling and wet,” You didn’t even notice him stuff his prick back into his pants because you were so mesmerized by the taste left on your tongue and the ache in your jaw. He leans down, nearly level with you on the floor, but still hovering over your head. “Just like your pussy I bet, hm?”
Your entire body shivered from his words as if a frozen wind cascaded through the bedroom, but at the same time, your skin has never burned so fiery. His hands were quick to fit under your arms, lifting you up to your feet. When your thighs met again, they squeezed tightly to rid the incessant throbbing between them. You knew you were just soaking wet too–the kind that reached all the way to your bum once Tom laid you flat on your back. The kind that would drip onto the bed sheets if you were positioned on all fours with your rear up in the air. Tom loved to do every which way with you, but he was keen on watching your scrunched-up face relax once you came. The way your nose would wrinkle and eyebrows furrow, mouth just wide enough to slip a finger or two through. Which, of course, Tom would take advantage of. But right now, he wanted to taste you.
It had been such a long day, full of busyness and rage-work. He didn’t mind having to punch a face or two daily, especially when they wronged him significantly because then he got to do more than just a punch. The only part he hated was seeing your face in the aftermath. When he’d come home, he would see you all delighted to see him back and well, just for your expression to drop in concern at his wounds. Whether it was his hands (it was usually his hands), arms, chest, or even his face, you were relentless about fixing him up. Tom’s resistance was nothing to you, so eventually, he would just sigh and let you aid him. You had something of a magic touch because only you could make Tom feel better. Nothing like the doctors he had occasionally visited as a child or even his mother’s kisses. And now, his knuckles may be bruised and may be bandaged, but that would never stop him from taking care of his girl. Especially when his girl got all shy about wanting to be man-handled. He thought you were the most adorable thing really.
Usually, Tom would gently lay you back on the comforter and make sure you had a pillow underneath your head. This time, he didn’t even hesitate to throw your willing body like a ragdoll on the bed. The gasp you let out was practically a moan. His invasive, manly hands shredded your bottoms down your legs without a care in the world. You’ve never seen him so aggressive with you, but God, if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. You had been craving this type of fucking, and now that you have it, well, you might just pass out from how good it’s all going to feel.
“This slutty little pussy,” he growls, thumb circling your throbbing clit. He can feel the way it swells underneath his rough touches, and he can hear the way your breath gets caught in your throat. You were always so delicate to him, like you would break if he held you too hard. But while you were soft, you were also strong, which is why Tom was able to treat you like this and you wouldn’t shatter like thin glass. “So weepy and wet. Who knew you were such a cock whore, hm? Or is it just for me?”
“You. Only you.”
Tom knew it was only for him. And of course, you knew it was only for him. No one has ever gotten you as wet as Tom has, and no one has pleasured you nearly as much. He strived to satisfy you until you begged him to stop, which no one had ever come close to doing. Every past partner you’ve been with always had to use lubricants because they couldn’t make you wet enough. You were always ashamed and embarrassed, but then you realized that’s how they should feel. Their performances are minuscule and rubbish; compared to Tom’s, they don’t stand a chance. But you didn’t bother with those past “lovers” anymore, because you had your one and only right in front of you. Or more like right in between your legs with his head on your thigh.
“Right. I’m feeling a bit hungry. You’ll let me eat, won’t you?” He widens your legs, forcing them to spread so you can’t suffocate him with your thighs. Lewd whines spill from your mouth as his breath hits your pussy, warm and close. “Oh, wait, I’m making the decisions.”
His lips lock onto your clit, sucking on the nub. You don’t conceal the moans that instantaneously begin to slip out of you like a mantra. He changes his rhythm, going firm and fast, and then slow and calculated. It was addicting, and it left you clawing at the bed sheets and curling your toes. His tongue swirls through your folds, collecting your juices and prodding inside of you.
No man has eaten you like Tom has. When they did it, they did it as if it was a chore. Tom does it as if it’s a reward.
He cherishes you, honors your body with his hands and mouth while also showing you who’s in control. It’s these things that make you utterly obsessed with him, thinking about him for twenty-four hours even when you see him at the start and end of every day. You were obsessed with the way his tongue was licking into you, desperate to consume every drop of your wetness until you were drained. His thumb returned to its home on your clit, pressing and holding as it throbbed beneath his finger. Your head spun as if you were drunk on a carousel, but it wasn’t nausea you were feeling. No, it was the ecstasy of pleasure building up inside of you as you approached your high.
“S-so close. Fuck—”
A slap to your inner thigh caused you to squeak into the heated air. Tom never cared when you cussed before, but the fact that he did now was another little turn-on that just got added to the list. Seriously, what was wrong with you?
His mouth popped off of you, thumb never letting up on your clit. He cleanly slides his middle finger through your slick folds, easily curling it inside of you. Even with his wounded and wrapped hands, his thrusts are flawless and perfectly paced. The sandy texture of the bandage occasionally itches your inner thigh, adding a delicious stimulation to your skin. As he pumps his digits inside of you, you are aware of the muscles in his arms flexing, which makes you clutch tightly around him.
“Oh, what’s got you so tight?” You groan at his words, not responding clearly. “Don’t be a brat.
“Your a-arms,” You can’t help but moan as he curls his fingers inside of you again.
“Yeah?” he hovers his body over you now, one arm supporting his bulky weight right beside your head. It was exactly like how you had remembered it and you didn’t even have to tell him. His bicep was next to your head, pulsing and working to keep him up right. You could feel and hear him grin and grunt every time you squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You’re the filthiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen. The way you’re taking my fingers I just know you’re wishing it’s m’cock.”
Your skin was on fire. Your hair was a mess. Your head was going to evaporate into a cloud of lust. And your body was an oozing waterfall. That’s the only way to describe how you felt.
His transitions are natural and effortless as if he could do it with his eyes closed because he’s mapped your body out so well. But no matter how many times you’re with him, you’re still withering beneath him, shaking until your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. He tilts his head, licking his lips before whispering in your ear deeply.
“Since you’ve been crying for it all day, come. Go ahead. Soak my fingers. Soak the fuckin’ sheets.”
You topple over your orgasm into a pool of pleasure, indeed soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. As your body becomes hypersensitive, you wiggle away from his touch, only for him to hold you in place. He snatches your hips, stills them roughly with a press of his bandaged hands.
“I’m not done here, sweetheart. For this one, I want you to be as quiet as possible. Can you do that? Or are you inclined to let the neighborhood know who is making y’come this many times?”
Tom was incessant about making you come a magnitude of ways that night, all with specific rules. One with no touching, one with no moving, one with no moaning. It was a rollercoaster of crying and orgasms. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, but you’ve never felt more refreshed and satisfied.
You were so tired that when Tom left to begin your aftercare, you had passed out on the messy bed sheets.
i rushed the ending so much, but i felt bad that i’ve posted in so long and i’m just so busy that i never have time to write anymore
taglist:
@motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @rugbeat3000 @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @theslayerofthevampires @breaxthing @eatshitanddiee @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3
crossed out= not able to tag
522 notes · View notes
t-lostinworlds · 1 year
Text
It’s (a) November Baby! | Tom Holland
Tumblr media
》 PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader
》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; fluff; crack-ish
》 SUMMARY: Tom partakes in a bet with the boys in No Nut November. But what happens if you're a November baby?
》 WARNINGS: whoriness/horniness, language, suggestive themes (mentions of sex, make out sesh, teasing, peeks at lingerie), pet names (love, baby, my love, darling, sweetheart, pretty boy, and uhm, sir), betting/wager, british banter? (lads being lads innit LMAO), innuendoes galore, bad jokes, dad jokes, dirty jokes, jesus jokes?? (...yep you read that right. it’s more religious/catholic jokes but nothing too bad i promise 😭), reader goes to the gym with tom (like one scene), nakedness (non-sexual...kinda? it’s super quick lol), implied smut at the end (nothing detailed, honestly this is pretty tame)
》 WORD COUNT: 7.1k+
Tumblr media
A/N: there’s this thing called No Nut November & it always made me wonder what do ppl born this month do on their birthdays like, do u not get to treat yourself? LMAO so this is for my fellow november babies out there <3 well.....we are a week into december but that’s beside the point LMAO. i’m so consistent at being late with these things honestly. i mean, this was meant for last year and finally just finished it lol. but hey, it got finished <3 ksksks hope you guys enjoy! (just realised how suggestive that gif actually is lol if u know u know)
Tumblr media
📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩
⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *。・゚.★. *。・゚✫*.
Tom was competitive.
If there was a word best to describe him, that surely would be one of them.
It wasn't necessarily a bad thing per se, it was just that sometimes, he wouldn't think things through before agreeing to a challenge.
So when the boys raised the idea of participating in No Nut November, there was no doubt that the eldest Holland would take it on headstrong without initially considering what else was in store for the month.
And then they started teasing Tom about how he could never control his constant horniness whenever he was around you, and it only fuelled his need to prove them oh so wrong.
"Tom wouldn't last a day," Tuwaine said. "Not when Y/N lives with us."
"Fuck off. I have great self-control, thank you very much," Tom scoffed, putting the last remaining red cups in the trash bag, ones that were used in the Halloween party they threw last night.
Harry rolled his eyes, obviously not believing his brother's statement. "Mate, she does absolutely nothing and you're jumping her bones in seconds!"
"Well, maybe if you've got a smoking hot—no, even just a girlfriend then you'll understand," Tom countered, smirk in full play.
"Fuck you." Harry glared at him, throwing a plastic skull in his direction to which Tom dodged with a laugh.
"They're worse than rabbits I tell you," Tuwaine grumbled, reaching up to remove the pumpkin lanterns that were hung on the wall behind the couch.
"We're not!" Tom protested.
"Nah, Tom's the only one who's always horny between the two of them," Harrison laughed as he emerged in the living room with the vacuum in hand. The blond lad's face fell into a grimace as he added, "He's always whining every night like some dog wanting to mate. I'm really regretting choosing the room next to yours."
"Oh fuck off, as if you're any better when Grace stays over," Tom retorted, Harrison's face instantly turning a deep shade of red. Tom grinned as he mimicked, "I'm really regretting choosing the room next to yours."
"Shut up, you div."
Tom laughed at that, tying up the trash bag before standing up confidently, hands on his hips as he looked over at his companions. "But no matter what you say, there's no doubt I'd cruise through November with the nut staying in the shells."
"The nut staying in the shells," Tuwaine repeated, rolling his eyes. "Why'd you have to say it like that, man?"
"Wanna bet then?" Harry challenged, an all-too-knowing smirk gracing his lips as soon as the words left it.
"Sure," Tom said calmly with a shrug, not thinking much about the mischief in Harry's eyes like the younger lad knew something, especially when he and Tuwaine shared a look.
"Go on, play your cards," Harrison chuckled. "And don't be so fucking lame and just bet fifty quid."
"Yeah, we do things differently in this house," Tuwaine agreed.
"Go big or go home," Harry said with a smirk.
"Alright, fine." Tom crossed his arms over his chest as he pursed his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling as he tried to come up with a high stake bet that would keep everyone motivated to actually pull through with this. Catching the sight of the beach painting on the wall, he smiled as it came to him.
"Whoever lasts the whole of November will win a week's holiday in Mykonos. All expenses will be paid by the others who lost," Tom offered, all the boys nodding in agreement, eyes now glossed with excitement. "If two of us win, the other two will pay. If only one person will win, the other three will pay and you get to bring a plus one," he continued.
"I have a feeling I'm going to get Gracie and me a free couple's holiday," Harrison said, clasping his hands together, beaming.
"What if we all win and you're the only one who'll lose?" Harry asked.
"Then you three will have a week-long holiday in Mykonos with all expenses paid by me." Tom shrugged nonchalantly, opening his arms to showcase himself with a calm smile. He truly did believe he wouldn't be touching his pocket anytime soon. He was confident enough in his ability to win the bet which was why he wasn't afraid to raise the stake.
"Oh, now we're talking!" Tuwaine cheered, patting Harry on the back excitedly.
"You seem so confident in this," Harrison chuckled.
"Because I know I'm not losing. I can easily go through November without a single bust," Tom stated. "So, deal?"
"Deal," the three boys chorused, proceeding to shake hands among themselves with grins on their faces, ready to take on the challenge.
"Deal on what?"
All four heads turned to look at you as you entered the living room.
A bright smile immediately erupted on Tom's face then, heart melting at the way you gently rubbed the sleep off your eyes with your knuckles, your figure clad in some sleep shorts and his purple sweatshirt.
"No Nut November. Whoever wins will go to an all-expense paid by the losers, to be extra clear, a week holiday in Mykonos," Harry explained amusedly, smirk widening when you nodded slowly.
"So..." you trailed off, turning to look at Tom with a pout as you said,
"No birthday sex for me then?"
Tom's smile got slapped off his face as his eyes widened, horror and realisation quickly dawning on his features before he dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sharp curse,
"Fuck."
All the boys burst out in rambunctious laughs, Harry and Tuwaine high-fiving which proved that they already knew about your birthday and how it could be the one thing that would secure their win on this.
"You dickheads set me up!" Tom exclaimed, shooting each lad a glare, throwing another one at Harry for good measure since he was the one who planted the idea of a bet in the first place.
"Nobody set you up," the younger Holland laughed. "You just didn't think things through, as per usual."
Tom looked at you with an apologetic pout. You flashed him a smile in return, giggling softly as you shrugged. He sighed before turning back to the boys. "Come on, surely her birthday is an exception?"
"Nope, a deal is a deal," Tuwaine laughed.
"You nut, you lose," Harry added.
Tom turned to Harrison for help. The blonde lad merely shook his head with a smirk. "You dug yourself into this hole, mate. The deal has been made," he chuckled. "Or you can just accept defeat and pay for our holiday."
"No way in hell I'm losing to you lot," Tom said through gritted teeth, too much pride and ego to easily surrender when the game barely even started yet.
"Right then." Harry clasped his hands together. "Who wants to join me on shopping?" he said, shit-eating grin never wavering as he added salt to the wound. "I feel like I need new swimming trunks and a whole lot of sunscreen for our week holiday, paid by Tom, in Mykonos."
"Oh, hell yeah!" Tuwaine grinned.
Harrison laughed, "Count me in!"
All three boys exited the room after that with as much giddiness in their step as possible, leaving you with a rather defeated Tom. You walked over to him with a tender smile, your hands smoothing over his shoulders as his fingers automatically curled around your waist once you were close enough.
"Did you forget?" you asked teasingly, brushing away the curl that fell on his forehead.
This was going to be the third birthday that you were going to be celebrating with him. The past two, nobody in the group really thought much about No Nut November, given that they were all busy career wise on top of being in different places due to conflicting schedules.
Only now did they get the chance to actually spend some much needed time together, all free for the whole month as their breaks finally coincided. And, by the looks of it, the lads seemed to have grown bored out of their minds that the idea of participating suddenly came around.
"No, of course I didn't. I would never forget about your birthday," Tom said, wrapping his arms fully around you to pull you even closer, brushing the tip of his nose against yours softly. "I just didn't make the correlation until you pointed it out."
"The bet does sound too good to pass," you hummed, amused. "I mean, free holiday? Who wouldn't want that?"
Tom pouted. "I'm so sorry, my love—"
"Hey no, it's okay, It's not a big deal," you said reassuringly, with no hint of anger or disappointment in your voice whatsoever. "You'll just have to make it up to me in December." You flashed him a lovely smile, one that was quick to turn into a smirk, though. "I also want to see how long you'll last."
"I feel like you don't have faith in me," he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at you.
"I'm your girlfriend," you giggled. "I think out of all people, I'm the most aware of how horny you get and how quickly it happens."
"Well, can't argue with that," Tom chuckled. Yet despite how true your words were, his confidence and pride still boiled in him strongly as he said, "I still believe that this is going to be easy breezy for me."
But was No Nut November really going to be easy breezy for Tom? Absolutely—
Not.
Even more so when you weren't doing anything in making it as such.
The first time Tom felt his self-control waver was when you walked out of the closet in a matching sports bra and leggings, and some white tennis shoes on to complete the look.
It was a plain, grey set, but the fabric was clinging onto your figure that Tom couldn't stop himself from gawking. It left so little to the imagination that's for sure. The lump was quick to form in his throat, lips parted as he froze, hands hovering over his last untied shoelace while his eyes raked from the top of your head, down, and then back up again.
He shook his head and blinked, clearing out his throat and standing up from his place on the bed after he tied the knot securely. He narrowed his eyes as he walked over to you, hands resting on your waist once he was close.
Tom instantly regretted the action.
Your skin was bare underneath his palms, and it was warm to the touch, soft, and oh did his hands desperately want to go further up and to the front, or down and behind.
"What're you up to?" he asked, voice dropping an octave as he hooked his thumbs on the elastic of your leggings.
You furrowed your brows, small smile on your lips as you stared at him quizzically. "I'm coming with you to the gym starting today, remember?"
No, he did not remember.
Tom stared at you suspiciously at first, trying to gauge if there was some sort of hidden plan you were cooking. But you merely raised a brow as you tilted your head, smile widening with amusement.
Then it hit him.
"For fuck's sake."
You had set a goal for yourself that you were going to start exercising as much and as often as you could. And being the ever supportive boyfriend that he is, Tom, of course, offered to help out by saying you could come to the gym with him.
You'd set up a friendly competition between the two of you—well, it was mostly a pack you made for yourself that the number of days you'd gone to the gym should be equal if not more than Tom's. You said it was to help keep you motivated to not miss a session, especially when you were going against him who works out religiously.
It wasn't to change your appearance in any sort of way. Tom even sat you down to talk, just to make sure you weren't doing it for the wrong reasons, that you were doing it because you wanted to, not because you were pressured to. And most importantly, that you were doing this for yourself, not to impress anyone else, including him.
But you'd reassured him it was simply to be more active, build a bit of strength and improve your cardiovascular endurance where you wouldn't be out of breath after doing some simple task.
Tom was all up for it, always willing to give his full support when it came to your wonderful, productive, goal driven and other times, spontaneous ventures. As long as it wasn't illegal, of course—well, even that's debatable.
It just so happens that you both agreed, merely a couple of days ago, that November was the most reasonable time for you to start.
Why oh why did it seem like all the odds were somewhat against him this month? Or did he simply not think things through before agreeing to this bet?
Tom's pride picked the former.
"Hmm, I didn't know that not busting a nut makes you forgetful," you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close.
"Shut up. I've been distracted," he grumbled defensively, nudging the tip of his nose with yours with a pout.
"Obviously," you laughed. "I mean, you have been thinking with the wrong head lately."
Tom nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth with a dark chuckle, "You and your quick wit." With an eyebrow raised in warning, he squeezed your waist. "It's gonna get you in trouble."
"Oh, you like it," you murmured, smirking as you tilted your head up, brushing your lips over his but never closing the distance, just like the little tease that you are.
"Not in the bedroom I don't," Tom warned, voice dropping an octave.
His fingers dug into your hips, head pulling back when you tried to go in for a kiss. He knew what you were trying to do, and he wasn't going to let you get the upper hand.
But then you whined.
And how was he meant to resist that?
Though the second he let lips touch yours, it set him on fire.
Tom's self control cracked as he pulled you flushed against his chest. Tilting his head, he groaned when you teased your tongue against his lip, him obliging your request not even a split second later.
Big mistake.
The kiss immediately grew heavy and hot, his hands wandering, squeezing, gripping, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently as you let a moan slip out.
Tom quickly pulled away, lips detaching from yours with a soft pop.
"Fuck," he gasped, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tried his best to settle down his raging bo—heart. "This is going to be harder than I thought."
"Oh it's definitely harder."
Tom pulled away, shooting you a glare. "Ha, ha, you're so funny."
"I know, the one thing I didn't learn from you," you quipped with a smirk.
"Ouch." Tom pouted at you. "Wait, I am funny."
"Debatable."
"I mean my dad's a comedian."
"Well, even more debatable."
Tom gaped at you. "Harsh."
"The fact that I'm still with you even after your bad jokes—" You shook your head, cupping his cheek tenderly as you sighed, "True love does exist."
"You're wounding me, darling," Tom said, turning his head to kiss your palm before he looked back at you with a pout. You giggled, leaning closer to kiss it away. Successfully so as he was unable to stop himself from breaking out into a grin.
"Love you," you hummed against his lips.
"Love you most," he sighed, squeezing you one more time before pulling away.
"Now, let's get to the gym shall we?" you said.
Tom nodded, moving over to his bedside table to get his wallet, phone and keys.
"I'm staying as far away from you the whole time, by the way," he said, pointing an accusing finger at you, glaring playfully as he followed you out the bedroom and down the hall.
You laughed, "As if that'll help."
And oh you were so right. It did not fucking help, at all.
It was torture watching you go from stretching to then running on the treadmill where your lovely thighs and ass were just there for him to watch as they jiggled with your movements. And then you went from curl-ups, to push-ups, planks and then squats. The fucking squats was when he started to feel really, really hot. His suffering didn't even end there. You working out in itself was already a lot. But then all of it just seemed to be happening in slow motion.
Everything you were doing was happening in slow motion as if you were in some TV commercial, and Tom was simply there to watch on the screen, unable to do anything about it—well, unless he wanted to lose the bet.
No matter how many times Tom tried to convince himself that it was simply his mind playing tricks on him, it didn't make a fucking difference.
He couldn't even look at you when you drank from your water bottle—head thrown back with your neck stretched out—it was just too much for him to handle.
Tom was drenched in sweat by the time you both were done for the day, and he knew it wasn't only from his workout. The tent on his basketball shorts proved that. Hell, he didn't even get to fully complete his sets given that you were being a huge distraction—a very attractive, gorgeously sexy and hot distraction.
And you weren't even doing it on purpose!
You merely laughed at his demise when you both got in the car, Tom keeping both hands on the steering wheel which he didn't normally do when it's you in the passenger's seat. Your laugh only grew louder when you saw how tight his grip was, simply to keep them there in fear that the second he'd even just feel the warmth of your thigh, he'd absolutely lose it.
"Tom?"
"Hmm?"
"Why won't you look at me?"
There was no doubt you knew exactly why he couldn't sneak a glance, you simply wanted to poke him about it. He could do it in the gym because there was distance, admire you from afar as you could say. But now? He didn't trust himself. Not with you being so close where he'd probably be able to notice the sweat that littered your warm skin, trailing down the valley of your—that thought itself just about tempt him to pull over once he finds an empty parking space.
"'Cause I'm driving," he lied through gritted teeth.
That made you laugh even more.
He couldn't be mad at you, though. Because one, he absolutely loves your laugh, it's the most beautiful sound in the world. And two, well, it genuinely was quite laughable, how it's only been day one and he was already grasping at straws.
It wasn't because he was always that horny around you exactly, it was because he couldn't do anything about it which was frustrating. And the more frustrated he got, the tougher it was to put himself in check. Basically, he got even hornier, and it just went round and round and kept building and building.
It's definitely going to be a white Christmas once he explodes.
Hell, white Christmas might even come early if Tom did so, too.
He didn't even care how bad those jokes were.
But what Tom dreaded the most was that he knew it'd only get har—more difficult to control himself from here on out.
And as the days dragged on—and oh how much longer did it fucking drag where it seemed that a minute was over an hour—Tom found himself taking cold showers frequently. He did it much more often in a way that it for sure helped with lessening the bills in this house. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he took a proper hot shower. But there was nothing else he could think of that would help calm down his...needs.
Said needs that only grew stronger whenever you were in the vicinity.
It was amusing borderline ridiculous how hyperaware he'd gotten about your presence. Tom's not a scientist so he had no idea how to explain the hows, all he knew was that everything about you suddenly became more.
Scent sweeter, more intoxicating, touch warmer, more electrifying, skin softer, more tempting.
And when pre-No-Nut-November him already felt so strongly for you, how his emotions were always at a high level when it comes to you, imagine how much more intense everything got? It was like going from dialling it to eleven to suddenly making it a hundred.
If Tom had to guess what having spider-senses actually felt like, this was definitely it.
What made him realise that he was absolutely done for was the fact that even the faint smell of your shampoo was starting to get him worked up.
Better yet, that the sight of you in his hoodie was already giving him a semi.
"God-fucking-dammit," Tom grumbled, rubbing his face with his palm frustratedly as he tore his gaze away from you, shifting in his seat as he placed a pillow on his lap.
All three lads looked at him, comedically in sync as they looked at you in the kitchen, and then back at Tom.
"Fucking hell, she's just cooking!" Harry laughed.
"Yeah, in my clothes," Tom reasoned.
"I feel like this is actually a life lesson for you," Tuwaine chuckled. "You're actually just a walking horn dog."
"I see his point, though. When you see your girlfriend in your clothes, it's just different," Harrison said. "Brings back some memories too as to why she ended up wearing your clothes in the first place, if you get what I mean."
"Thank you!" Tom exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air before he gestured towards Tuwaine and Harry with a glare. "The difference between who's single and who's not."
"You mean the difference between the winners and losers?" Harry grinned.
"As if I didn't see you skip a kissing scene—not even a sex scene—so fucking quick in that movie you and Harrison watched last night. The one with Channing Tatum," Tom countered.
Harry turned bright red as he threw a pillow at his brother, "Fuck off. Rachel McAdams is my weakness."
"Or Channing Tatum," Tuwaine interjected, the boys nodding in agreement.
"He actually didn't watch the movie, he was just drooling the whole time," Harrison snitched, earning a smack from Harry.
"That's poor from you, Baz," Tuwaine snorted.
"At least I'm not having a fucking boner just seeing my girlfriend cooking in my hoodie," Harry argued, immediately receiving back the pillow he threw at Tom earlier.
"Domesticity is sexy, fuck you." Tom flipped the boys off as he got up from the couch and made his way over to you in the kitchen.
He'd already established that staying away from you didn't make that much of a difference. It was either suffer while being far away from you, or suffer while getting to hold you close. 
Tom will always pick the latter.
"Hi, my love," he hummed, arms wrapping around you from behind as he nuzzled his face into your neck.
"Hey, handsome," you giggled, squeezing his forearm before continuing to chop up the broccoli. "I can change if you want."
Tom scrunched up his face. "You heard?"
"You guys aren't exactly the quietest bunch."
"We could say the exact same to the both of you!"
"Touché!" you called out with a laugh. "Although, we have been pretty quiet lately."
"Oh it's so peaceful," Harry let out a fake sob. "I'm going to miss the peace and quiet once November is over."
"Well, quiet for you lot downstairs," Harrison complained. "I hear Tom cry every night because his dick is too hard and he can't do anything about it."
"Stop fucking lying, Harrison!"
"Is he though?" you asked, nose scrunching.
Tom rolled his eyes as he grumbled, "I don't cry, I complain."
"Right, because there's a difference."
Tom shook his head, but didn't bother arguing as he nuzzled his face into your neck, fingers playing with the hem of the hoodie. "You know, it should be a crime how you always look so good in my clothes. Like, fuck me, please."
"Shut up," you laughed.
"But no, there's no need to change," he hummed, planting a few kisses on your warm skin and then your cheek. "It's my job to get my mind out of the gutter, my job to control the urges, my job not to give into the temptation. Never yours."
"Preach it, Pastor Tom."
The way his whole body immediately ran cold at that, it was award-winning. It was quick, how turned off he immediately got.
"Please," Tom started with a sharp intake of breath. "Do not call me that, ever again, I am begging you."
"What? With how you're acting lately," you trailed off, grin turning wider. "You need Jesus!"
"Darling!" Tom groaned.
You laughed, "Did it work?"
"Yup," he sighed, eyes dropping to his crotch. "It's fully deflated now. I think it even shrunk in."
You laughed at that, patting him right on top of the head. "You last another day, Holland."
"Thank you, baby," he cooed sarcastically.
"Oh no, don't thank me," you hummed, pointing at the ceiling, eyes following suit. "Thank the Lord."
"I hate you so much," he grumbled, pulling away completely and making his way out the kitchen.
"What? You'd prefer me to douse you in holy water instead?" you called out, your laugh still bouncing off the walls.
"The number you have dialled has already disconnected!"
"But Tom, I wanted a kiss!"
That stopped him in his tracks, a smile tugging at his lips which he quickly wiped off as he turned and walked back to you.
"Not until you promise me no more Jesus jokes," he said, pointing an accusing finger.
"Amen," you said, trying your hardest to keep a straight face but laughing only a second later when he grabbed a chopped carrot and threw it at you. "Wasting food is a sin, Tom!"
He grabbed the ladle from the pot, aiming a full scoop of mashed potatoes right at you. "I swear if you don't cut that out—"
"Okay! Okay," you snorted, hands up as you slowly walked towards him, putting the ladle back before wrapping your arms around his neck. "No more, I promise."
With a sigh, Tom circled his arms around you and gave you the kiss you asked for.
"You are so lucky I love you."
"Hmm, I love you, too."
•••
Tom's heart stopped, beating again but at twice its normal pace. But all it did was pump the blood straight down as he walked into your shared bedroom.
At first glance, the sight was innocent, you laying on your stomach, feet in the air as you flicked through the pages of your book.
But not only were you wearing his hoodie again, it was hiked up just enough for Tom to get a clear view of your red, lacy underwear.
"Darling, I don't normally ask you this," he started, voice low and rough as he stayed frozen on his spot by the door. "But I really need you to put some pants on."
"Oh, sorry," you said, not sounding apologetic at all as you scrambled off the bed. With your back turned to him, your book suddenly 'fell' off your hands. "Oops," you gasped, making a show of bending over to pick it up.
One glance was all it took.
Tom was behind you in seconds, abruptly pulling you upright. He turned you around to face him, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed you against the nearest wall.
And if the devilish smile you wore was anything to go by, you knew exactly what you were doing.
"Who's putting you up to this?" he grumbled, trying his best to keep his hands still and not let them wander, especially under the hoodie you were wearing. He'd be gone if he did as much as feel a sliver of your skin.
"No one," you hummed, a grin appearing on your lips as you shrugged. "Well, me."
His brow quirked up. "Why?"
"Because I'm really, really horny," you admitted unashamedly. "But I guess I'll have to take care of that myself, alone, in the shower."
Tom let out a harsh breath through his nose as he screwed his eyes shut. "You're having your fun with this, too, huh?"
"I am," you giggled, fingers taking home in the mesh of his curls. "Mainly because I love seeing you all riled up. I mean, you're so hot when you're angry. But then angry you leads to sex that is just whew."
His glare was sharp with warning as he met your eyes again. "Sweetheart—"
"Don't lose, though," you hummed, nails lightly scratching at his scalp, making a shiver run down his whole body. "I mean imagine the fun we'll have if you get to win this. Just the two of us in Mykonos, me in your favourite bikinis, salt water on my skin, under the sun, rubbing sunscreen—"
"You are not helping," he groaned, head dropping to place a kiss on the juncture where your neck and jaw meet. "But thanks for the motivation, love."
"Anytime, pretty boy."
You escaped his hold before he could even say a word, a skip in your step as you made your way to the en suite bathroom. 
"Fucking hell," he grumbled, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face with a deep sigh, "Might as well start praying to contain myself."
You laughed heartily at that, shooting him a wink over your shoulder, a blow of a kiss before you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the door open.
Absolute fucking tease.
Tom knew he needed to get out before he could even hear you start to get...busy.
So he grabbed a spare towel in the closet and made his way downstairs, thankful that there was more than one bathroom in this place. He really needed a cold shower to calm himself down a bit.
But when he got there, Harrison was waiting by the door, the water already running inside.
"Harry in there?" Tom asked the blonde lad, turning back to the white-painted wood when he got the confirmation. "Mate, what are you doing?"
"I'm showering, piss off!"
Tom grinned. "Are you sure you're not losing?"
"I swear on my dick I'm not! I'll cut it off myself if I'm lying!"
"Damn," Tom blew out his cheeks, eyes wide with amusement before he turned to the blonde lad. "What happened?"
"The Notebook," Harrison said, chuckling.
"Ah." Tom nodded, remembering certain scenes that the movie had. "So it's a cold shower then."
Harrison laughed, nodding. It was only then did Tom notice he had a towel in hand, face unusually flushed.
"What's up with you?" he asked.
"She posted a picture, pool party with some friends," Harrison grumbled, as if it pained him to say it out loud.
Tom rolled his eyes. "You guys have it so fucking easy yet here you are."
"It's my favourite bikini on her, leave me alone," he argued, before his eyes narrowed. "Wait, don't you have your own shower?"
Tom shrugged. "She's busy."
"Oh," Harrison said, a few seconds passing before his eyes widened as he looked at Tom. "Oh."
"Yup," he sighed, doing his best not to close his eyes to the picture of you in the shower doing things he should be doing to you. He wouldn't dare bless his imagination. Not unless he wanted to get pushed past his sanity.
"You're right, we do have it easy," Harrison chuckled, patting his shoulder sympathetically.
"You guys are such horny losers," Tuwaine's laugh boomed across the hall as he walked by them.
He was about to retort when he suddenly heard your voice.
"Tom? Your turn," you said as you appeared down the stairs, wearing the same hoodie but sporting some sweatpants this time. Smirking, you added, "I put it on extra cold."
"How considerate. Even if you caused the problem in the first place." he scoffed, rolling his eyes, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he made his way back to your shared bedroom.
•••
Tom should've known.
Especially when he knew just how much of an absolute devil you got once you start your little game. You never shied away from pushing him to the brink when you so obviously wanted something specific from him.
He should've seen it coming from miles away.
The deep hiss he let out echoed in the bathroom when he stepped under the cold water, yet the relief he felt only lasted for a second.
Because when he looked up, he was eye to eye with your stark red bra and matching lace underwear, hanging prettily on the showerhead.
The cold water didn't work so well anymore.
"Y/N!"
"What?" You appeared in the bathroom a few moments later, smiling innocently.
Tom glared, lifting his fingers to show you the lingerie you not-so-accidentally hung just above his head. It was as close as dangling warm, red meat in front of a starving beast.
"You little minx."
"Oh hello, haven't seen him in a while," you giggled as you so blatantly stared between his legs, licking your lips slowly as your eyes trailed over the rest of his naked body.
"You're fucking me with your eyes," Tom stated, yet by no means did anything to cover up. It's not like you haven't seen it countless times before. Besides, he loved the attention, he always did when it came to you. Whether he'd admit that now, though, was the question.
"Oh you bet I am. I mean, can you blame me?" you admitted unashamedly, sauntering over to him. He sucked in a sharp breath when your hands landed on his biceps, squeezing and then moving up his shoulder. He held it in, his lungs be damned as your fingers started to trail down his abs. "I've got such a gorgeous boyfriend."
Before you could move past below his V-line, Tom immediately caught your wrist, grip firm as a warning, but not enough for it to hurt. His free hand came up, pinching your chin between his fingers as held you in place. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip, stance commanding, dominating, as he spoke in a tone that he only ever used whenever you were being a brat.
"Out, sweetheart."
You grinned that devilish smile of yours, kissed his thumb, and purred, 
"Yes, sir."
You were out of the bathroom before Tom could even do as much as take a breath.
He looked up at the ceiling, a sound mixed between a sob and a laugh escaping him as he said,
"Lord Jesus Christ, help me."
•••
You stirred awake at the faint sound of an alarm going off.
It was quickly stopped, though, silence ringing in the air but for only a moment before the soft rustling of the sheets bounced off the bedroom walls.
Yet what made your eyes flutter open was the feeling of that familiar mess of curls tickling the flesh on your inner thighs, followed by those warm lips you adore brushing against your skin, leaving soft yet praising kisses on its wake.
You giggled, blinking away the remnants of sleep before your gaze settled on the man below you. His handsome face sported that charming smile, illuminated by a soft orange glow coming from his bedside lamp.
It was like clockwork, Tom waking you up at midnight during your birthday to give you your first gift in a form of praise, love and affection, giving and showing them to you in more ways than not.
"There's the birthday girl," he hummed lowly, hands running along your thighs, his lips following its path.
"Come here," you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair lovingly.
Tom smiled, slowly kissing up your leg, placing one on your hip before moving towards your clothed stomach, blowing a raspberry to earn a laugh. He continued his way up to the valley between your breast, up and up, until he gently nipped at your collarbone, humming to himself once he reached the warmth of your neck.
He stayed there for a moment, your head tilting instinctively so he could litter your skin with open mouth kisses with ease. 
Once Tom was satisfied, his lips found your jaw then, kisses given to your left cheek, moving across your face to stop at the tip of your nose, kissing it twice before he trailed over to the other cheek. Heaps of giggles rumbled out of you as he kissed your eyelids, then your forehead before moving across your crown.
Your gazes locked once he pulled away slightly, forearms resting on either side of your head, his smile brighter than the moonlight that seeped through the bedroom window.
"Happy Birthday, my darling love," he whispered.
"Thank you," you hummed, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.
It escalated quicker than you'd anticipated it to.
Then again, it's been a common thing to happen nowadays.
Next thing you knew, Tom was groaning against you, tongue prying your lips open before licking into your mouth as his body nudged your legs apart, settling in between them. His hands were deliberate yet loving as they grabbed at every part of you—hips, thighs, waist, chest, earning whispered moans with each tender squeeze.
Then, his hips moved on their own accord, a deep growl pulling him off your lips. He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissing fervently before slowly starting to nip at the skin.
"Tom, wait," you gasped, cupping his face and gently prying him off of you. Both chests heaving, you looked into his darkened eyes, smiling at him sympathetically. "We can't remember?"
"Fuck," he groaned, reluctantly pulling away and plopping back on his side of the bed, forearm draped over his eyes. With a pout, he turned to you. "You're not part of it though so you can still get off."
"I wouldn't want you to do that," you said in pure honesty. It just seemed far too mean to be taking the pleasure he'd give you when he'd be suffering while doing so. You shifted in bed, kissing his bare shoulder before you rested your head on his chest. "Wouldn't want to torture you on my birthday."
"You let me have the best birthday sex ever this year and I can't even return the favour," he sighed, the frustration and disappointment prominent in his voice.
You had surprised him with a new pair of much more risqué lingerie and a little private show. It was safe to say it was one of the best nights of his life, because it sure was one of the best sex you'd ever had. You absolutely had no clue how you'd be able to top it next year.
"It's okay," you hummed sincerely, kissing up his jaw before meeting his gaze. "December has plenty of free days."
Tom looked at you for a moment, and you could practically see it in his eyes, the way the gears in his head were turning. It was almost as if he was weighing all the pros and cons of his upcoming decision, whatever that may be.
You weren't given a chance to ask about it when he spoke.
"You know what, fuck it," he scoffed, lips finding yours again with a soft groan, pushing you back into the mattress as he returned to settling between your legs. Trailing down your jaw then to your neck, he murmured, "You and your pleasure are far more important to me than some stupid bet."
"But I really would love to go to Mykonos," you teased with a giggle, a sound replaced by a whimper when Tom started sucking on your sweet spots, surely leaving a mark.
"Then I'll easily take you there on my own, sweetheart," he cockily said, sitting back on his knees. "Part two of your gift. But for now..." he trailed off, smirking, hands finding their way under your shirt, fingers hooking on your underwear. 
"My girl deserves to get dicked down on her birthday."
"Tom!" you laughed.
You both jumped at the sudden ruckus outside your door.
"Woohoo!" Tuwaine hollered.
"Mykonos, here we come!" Harry cheered, followed by Harrison's boisterous laugh.
Tom's whole body slumped right on top of you with an annoyed groan.
"Happy birthday, Y/N!" all of them chorused.
You laughed, "Thank you!"
"Nah," Tuwaine chuckled. "Thank you for the free holiday!"
"You're welcome?" you snorted, shaking your head. "I guess?"
Lifting his head up, Tom shouted back, "I suggest you three leave the house while we haven't started yet!"
"It's fucking midnight!"
"Deez nuts busting, they're not caring!"
A chorus of groans echoed behind the door, followed by an onset of boos that had you plopping back in bed with a hearty laugh.
"That alone is enough to make me leave," Tuwaine grumbled.
"Come on, T, let's crash at mum and dad's," Harry said, words quickly followed by their footsteps growing further.
"Right," Harrison sighed, and you could almost see his grimace through the door at the realisation that his room was right next to yours. "Definitely staying with Grace tonight."
Tom chuckled, "You'll be the next to lose then Harrison!"
He didn't get a response, only an echo of silence as the boys went to wherever it was they planned to escape for the night to avoid trauma.
"That was so bad," you snorted. "See what I mean about true love?"
"Sorry, sorry," he hummed, warm hands kneading your bare thighs as he pecked your lips, eyes meeting yours, he wiggled his brows. "Now, where were we?"
You tilted your head at him innocently. "Me getting dicked down?"
"You better be ready," Tom chuckled darkly, smirk widening as he gently pushed your legs apart a little wider.
You bit your lip. "Yeah?"
"Mm-hmm, because for the whole day, a 24-hour time limit?" Tom licked his lips as he eyes trailed hungrily over you, the heat in your belly bursting into a flame as he said, "Let's try and see if you can come as many times as the years you've been on this earth."
Oh you were in for a long birthday ahead.
✫*゚・゚。.★.*。・゚♛ *.
↬ reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!
✉ NO TAGLIST: go follow @t-lostinlibrary​ and turn on notifications to get updated on my works!
© t-lostinworlds, 2022 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.
951 notes · View notes
spideyzgirl · 1 year
Text
it’s not all roses
Tumblr media
summary: you and tom, your neighbor, have been dating for more than a year, and you have fallen in love with him. when he invites you over for dinner, you can’t help but feel like he’s going to propose to you. you’ve been waiting for the magical moment for a while, and boy does something magical happen.
pairing: mob!tom holland x reader
warnings: angst, cursing, guns, mentions of blood,
wc: 3411
masterlist | taglist
Tumblr media
you’d only ever met one man who you’d truly call captivating. tom holland, your neighbor who you’ve been dating for a little more than a year. you were completely infatuated with him, it was safe to say you’ve never been happier.
tonight, he had invited you over for “a very special dinner”, so he had called it. you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, he was finally going to pop the question. the thought of marrying the person who made you the happiest was one you could fantasize about all day.
you could hardly keep the smile off your face as you slipped into the pretty dress he bought you a while ago, along with the gorgeous diamond earrings he gifted you.
“y/n i’m so excited for you!” your best friend squealed over the phone. “do you think he’ll actually propose tonight?”
“i hope so. i really hope i’m not just assuming,” you muttered as doubt started to settle in your head.
“don’t think negative, i know he will. you’d better prepare for the celebratory dick you’re getting after.” she giggled.
“i’m hanging up now.” you winced.
after putting on your favorite perfume (also gifted to you by tom), you left your home, walking right to toms. using the spare key he got you, you let yourself in, greeting his cat twix with a few pets.
“tom?” you called out to him.
“in the kitchen, darling.” he responded. you followed the noise of kitchen utensils clanking together, and found tom in front of the oven with his back facing you. you smiled at the sight of him doing this for you. you were so lucky to find someone to care for you as much as he did. you snuck up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back.
“hey babygirl.” you greeted him.
“hello sweetheart,” he chuckled. “don’t you look gorgeous.” he pulled you up so you were leaning against his side, and gave you a long kiss.
“mm, can i have another one? just one more please?” he pouted. you laughed at him but complied, connecting your lips for another kiss. he grabbed your chin gently, holding you there for longer than you initially thought he would.
“god i love you.” he mumbled against your lips before giving you one last peck. “now, you and twix get out. you’re distracting me.” he playfully nudged you away.
“but i wanna know what you’re making. it smells really good.”
“you’ll see, now go relax. it’ll be ready in a second.”
you walked into the dining room, not expecting to see an arrangement of your favorite flowers, and warm scented candles lit. you sometimes felt undeserving of the things tom did for you, but he’d always be there to tell you otherwise. you’ve never felt so loved and appreciated in a relationship, it almost felt too good to be true.
“i’m gonna take your silence as a sign that you like it.” tom spoke as he walked up behind you with two plates of spaghetti. he set the plates down and placed his hands on his hips, observing his work.
your silence was starting to worry him though, and panic started to take over. “it’s- it’s not too much is it? maybe the candles were overboard, i admit. but-“
“tom, shut up. it’s perfect. it’s so perfect.”
“okay.” he gave you his signature cute smile before sitting down with you to eat.
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
“take it easy on the drinks darling, there’s something i wanna ask you later.” he grinned as you poured your second glass of wine.
you bit your lip to keep from smiling like a maniac. you almost wanted to skip the dinner and get right to the proposal. well, his question. you had to consider the fact that he was probably asking you something else. or hell, he’d probably tell you what he does for his job - after a year - and how he can afford all of the costly things he gifts you. the smile on your face dissipated as you thought about it again.
it always bothered you at the wrong moments. you were annoyed with the way you couldn’t focus on the nice dinner tom spent his time on for you. you were now thinking about his one flaw. not only was it bothersome, but it was confusing. tom claims he loves you, but he won’t trust you with the most simplest fact about him after a year of being together? it was weird and hurtful. anytime you brought up the seemingly touchy topic, he’d always brush it off or quickly change the topic.
“are you alright? you’ve gone quiet.” he asked.
there was no use in bringing it up. he’d probably start talking about the weather. so, you put on a smile and shook your head. “i’m okay, sorry.”
but tom knew you better. “are you sure? is there anything i can get you?”
maybe the truth.
“i said i’m fine, tom. can we talk about something?” you huffed.
“okay, how’s work going?” he asked.
you scoffed at the irony of the question. “it’s going great, actually. what about your job? how’s that going? whatever you do.” you sarcastically smiled.
tom sighed as he finally realizes what got you so upset. that conversation. the conversation he’s had with you so many times, that he can hardly keep track of how many times he’s discussed it with you. he knew you were getting fed up with his avoidance about it, but it was better you didn’t know yet.
“it’s fine. are you ready for dessert? your favorite ice cream is in the freezer, it’s got your name on it.” he smiled awkwardly as he stood.
you sighed as you kept your glare on him. suddenly, several red dots danced their way up toms chest, before they all merged into one spot directly in the middle of his forehead. you squinted in confusion. tom was complete oblivious to what was happening.
“tom?”
“yes love?”
“what’s- what’s on your face?”
“somethings on my face? like what?” he asked simply, happy you were the one changing the subject this time.
“red dots. like laser pointers.”
“laser pointers? what’re you-“ tom gasped as his eyes shot open. “y/n, get down.”
“what?”
“get down!” he darted towards you, as the windows started shattering as a stream bullets began rapidly firing through them. tom grabbed your arm, pulling you down harshly under the table with him.
tom held you against his chest, his hand protecting your head as you cried in fear. the deafening sounds of the shots were enough to leave your ears ringing for days. there were no thoughts in your head, except for the one where you’re about to die in toms arms. the only thing letting you know you were still there was toms rapid heartbeat banging in your ear. you didn’t lift your head from his chest until the shots stopped firing through the house, the only audible noise was your ragged breathing and sniffles.
“tom-“
“shh.” he shushed you instantly, keeping a sharp ear out for signs of any people inside. he heard deep voices approaching the windows, followed by sounds of struggling, and finally the grinding of glass met with heavy footsteps. “there are no bodies, no blood. he’s still alive, find him. the girl too.” one of the voices boomed throughout the house.
you could see numerous black shoes scattering away from the windows, in search of you and tom. the men were tearing up anything and everything in the house in order to find you both. they were already upstairs; you could hear the muffled noises of things hitting the floors.
“listen to me,” tom whispered, grabbing your face and looking you in your glossy eyes. “we’re gonna run for the garage and get the fuck out of here, alright? stay close to me.”
you watched with fearful eyes as he grabbed a gun that was tapped to the bottom of the table, checking how many rounds were in the chamber before clicking it back into place. “what- what is that? why do you have that, tom? what’s going on? who are those people-“
“baby, we don’t have a lot of time for that right now. pretty soon, they’re gonna tear up with room too so we need to go. i promise i’ll explain this all later, just let me get you somewhere safe. nod if you understand.”
you nodded as more tears rolled down your cheeks. he crawled from under the table first, checking to make sure no one was around. once he was sure it was clear, he held his hand for you to take and you followed him from under the table.
you looked around anxiously. your flowers were disarranged and ruined, the glass of the vase shattered everywhere as water began to drip onto the floor. standing there witnessing the mess on the table, you felt like you were just waiting to die. you never thought it would be possible, but you didn’t feel safe in toms house anymore.
tom stealthily lead you both to the garage door. he opened it, but it was abruptly kicked shut by one of the men. tom quickly turned toward him, and they were both aiming their guns at the others head. he was much taller and burlier than tom. the man chuckled darkly as he cocked his gun. “you didn’t think you’d get away so quickly, did you?”
“well, for a second there, yeah.” tom shrugged, his gaze never lingering.
“stop fucking around, holland. we’ve got shit to discuss, you’re coming with us whether you want to or not.” he growled.
“you could’ve rung the doorbell.”
“that your girlfriend?” the man’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes running over your body as a disgusting ring fell on his lips. “y/n, isn’t it? she’s even sexier in person. such a shame you won’t be able to spend the rest of your lives together.”
he aimed the gun towards you now, but tom shot the man’s hand before he could even fire off his gun. you shrieked as the gun went off, alerting the others upstairs. the man was now sobbing on the floor, a stream of curses falling from his mouth.
tom yanked the door open and you both made a beeline toward the car. he hardly waited for the garage to fully open before he took off, speeding right out of the neighborhood.
he sighed and rubbed his head and looked over to you. you were in a complete state of panic. your entire body was trembling has you held yourself. tears were still running down your cheeks, your mascara with them.
“are you alright?” he asked you softly.
“take a guess.” you spat. “you just shot someone, tom! he’s probably going to die now, you just killed someone!”
“i would never kill anyone in front of you.”
“not in front of me? really? do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?” you screamed.
“y/n, calm down. he’s not gonna die, i just shot his hand. the worst he’ll get is a lousy jerk off.”
“that’s not funny. and that doesn’t make me feel any better. you still shot someone.”
“what did you expect me to do, y/n? he was going to shoot you if i didn’t shoot him first. if you thought i was just gonna sit back and relax, you’re out of your fucking mind.” he snapped.
none of this was making sense. you had your heart set on a lovely dinner date with your boyfriend and possibly getting engaged, with mind blowing celebratory sex afterwards. definitely not this. you don’t even know the man beside you, all of a sudden. he was entirely unrecognizable from the man you were just having dinner with.
“what do you do for your job, tom?” you asked quietly.
his grip on the wheel tightened and he clenched his jaw, holding his silence.
“answer me.” you pressed.
“i’m the leader of a mob.” he didn’t look at you when he said it. he didn’t want to see your reaction. but he knew it was bad when you fell quiet. “i didn’t want you to find out this way. i was going to tell you, i swear.”
the leader of a fucking mob? you were dating a crime boss? these are things mentioned on the first date, right? who knows what kinds of shady shit he’s into. it didn’t sit right with you at all.
“where are you taking me.” you mumbled.
“somewhere safe. i’ll get you cleaned up, and you can get some rest.”
absolutely not. ‘somewhere safe’ was not convincing enough for you. as much as it hurt, you just wanted to get away from tom. “stop the car.” you spoke up.
“what?”
“stop the car, right fucking now.” you raised your voice.
tom obeyed, and watched as you frantically left the car and began walking along the side of the road. he sighed, rolling the window down and pulled up beside you. “y/n, what are you doing? we don’t have time for this. they’ll be on our asses any second now.”
“i’m getting the fuck away from you. i don’t want to be near you right now, i’m sure you can understand that.”
you words cut deep, but he understood you were just shaken up. “you have no where to go, y/n. some of them are most likely still in the neighborhood, you can’t go home.”
your stride faltered as his words hit you like a ton of bricks. you can’t go home. if not, where the hell could you go? you were too stubborn to get back in though. you didn’t have any money on you, but maybe you could make it to your parents if you kept walking. which would be a 25 mile walk.
“you heard him say your name, y/n. they’ve clearly done their research. they know you, whether you like it or not. they know your friends your family, their address. you’re not safe anywhere right now. if you come with me, i’ll keep you safe. you know that.”
you exhaled as you stopped walking. you hated how he was right. seeing as you had no other choice, you grumpily got back in the car, keeping your back faced towards him. he continued driving, and silence consumed the car.
you thought about twix suddenly, and a wave of dread ran through your veins. “do you think twix is okay?” you asked hopefully.
tom didn’t want to worsen your worried state, so he lied. “uh, she should be fine. probably took off when the first few shots hit.” he nodded.
you sighed a breath of relief, and tried to think about anything other than the events of the night, which proved impossible for the rest of the ride.
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
it was well after 12 am once you arrived “somewhere safe”. your eyes lit up as you marveled at the enormous estate. once the gate opened, the car climbed the hill of a driveway before parking in front of the found fountain. lights shone through some of the floor to ceiling windows, giving you a glimpse of the beauty inside.
so the expensive gifts were just a tiny peak of his wealth.
tom noticed your reaction and smiled. he was relieved to see your face again. “it’s bigger on the inside, just wait.”
you watched as tom hopped out of the car, and you questioned how okay he was being right now. but you figured since he’s been doing this for god know how long, it probably doesn’t bother him as much. lucky bastard.
he opened your door for you and “come on then, let’s get you inside.”
you followed tom into the house, taking in the extravagance of the inside. the spacious loft area was well lit due to the gorgeous crystal chandelier hanging above. you could see your own reflection in the glossy hardwood floors. just when you thought it couldn’t get any more beautiful.
“this is all you?” you asked, still stunned by the house’s beauty.
“mostly me,” he nodded. “you like it?”
“that’s one way to put it.” you took note of the random people who went up and down the stairs every few minutes or so, and others who were chatting in the sitting area. “and you just let people walk around the house, at all hours of the night?” you frowned.
“well, this isn’t the ‘home’ part of the house, if that makes sense. the more homey part is in the west wing. come, i’ll show you.”
“i’m sorry, the west wing? what is this, bruce manor? how big is this place?”
suddenly, someone called out to tom, their footsteps hurriedly approaching. it was a blond haired boy, about the same age as tom.
“tom, mate,” he said, clearly winded from the run. “i just got word that your back. i wish you would’ve called back up or some shit instead of running.”
“i had something important to keep safe,” tom stated, gesturing towards you. “harrison, this is y/n.”
you looked at harrison and gave him a subtle smile.
“ah, y/n. i’ve heard your name being moaned in the wee hours of the night before. it’s no wonder, though.” his eyes trailed up your body and he licked his lips, making your stomach turn.
“hey, control yourself. she’s been through enough shit tonight.” tom warned.
“yeah, no kidding.” harrison eyes were trained on your bloody knees, and you winced when you saw how your blood was beginning to trickle down your legs. you blamed adrenaline for why you couldn’t feel it before. now that attention was brought to it, it was starting to sting.
“oh darling,” tom gasped. “that looks bad.”
“man, even in the midst of almost being murdered, you’re both still at it like horn dogs.” harrison chuckled.
“tom, slap him before i do.”
“oh my god. i’m gonna go get her patched up. i’ll meet you in my office afterwards.”
“i don’t like him.” you muttered after harrison walked away.
“it took me a while too.”
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*
after tom treated your wounds, he left you some of his older clothes for you to change into. you snuggled into his large comfy bed, and he sat on the edge of the bed.
“i’m sorry i don’t have anything cozier for you to sleep in. i don’t have… woman clothes.” he shrugged.
“don’t be sorry, it’s a comfort to me.”
“right,” he chuckled. “can i get you anything before i go?”
“just some space…” you said, avoiding his eyes.
“..space?”
the crack in his voice tugged at your heart strings, but you continued. “yes, tom. i meant what i said earlier. i can’t be around you right now. not until i can’t clear my head, okay? i still haven’t even processed the last 3 hours of the day.”
tom understand completely, but that didn’t mean he liked it. after today, he just wanted to hold you and fall asleep with you under the warm covers. he wanted to kiss you softly as you fell asleep, hear the soft whistle of your nose as you rested. but he won’t be getting any of that tonight. it hurt him to hear you say how you, the love of his life, didn’t want to be around him.
“alright. yeah, i understand. tonight was hectic. take as long as you need, sweetheart.” he leaned over to kiss your temple. “goodnight.”
he hit the light switch before he left and shut the door, leaving you to question what the fuck happened in the course of 4 hours. you were back to questioning if you were safe with tom. there was no doubt that your life was in good hands since, apparently, he’s good with a gun. but what if those people came back? you recalled how they were searching for you as well. what would happen if they found you? what would they do with you? what if tom couldn’t save you this time? the thought alone sent chills down your spine.
you were feeling too much all at once. hurt because tom lied to you and terrified for your life. confused, because you weren’t sure who you were dating anymore. it was funny how you were so ready to get tied down to him, and now you were second guessing that.
Tumblr media
taglist 🏷️ {DM FOR REMOVAL}
@raajali3 @crazyknight @hqllandxx @popeheywardssecretgf @luvhann @tellmeonce @tiredofc0ffee @saliciaknows @eatasockortwo @timotheechalametswife @lnmp89 @tomhollandsslut @chaostudee @aurelie39 @zendayassimp
644 notes · View notes
jahayla-parker · 1 month
Text
In Time : Tom Holland x Reader
Completed Series
Series Description: Reader is a cashier at a grocery store in Atlanta and crosses paths with Tom while he’s in the area filming No Way Home. Tom quickly falls for y/n but she has a boyfriend. Does/will y/n feel the same? Will they ever end up together? Are they destined to be friends or something more? Fluff, comfort, hurt-comfort, angst, strangers-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, etc.
Series Warnings: cursing, some spice/suggestive content, brief mentions of previous smut/sex but not actually written, toxic boyfriend behavior, minor aggression/violence, arguments, self doubt, mean fans, food/eating, breakups, pining, kissing and related romantic behaviors, and mentions of cheating. Please let me know if I missed anything!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Chapter List:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 *contains chapter text and social media post(s)/SMAUs
Chapter 9 *this chapter is done as social media post(s)/SMAUs
Chapter 10 *contains chapter text and social media post(s)/SMAUs
Chapter 11 *contains chapter text and social media post(s)/SMAUs
The End
Tumblr media
This was a Ko-fi request by the lovely @theslayerofthevampires Thank you again for the support 💜
Tumblr media
Taglist: @theslayerofthevampires @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @justapurrcat @natswifeysblog15 @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @laylasbunbunny
Tom Holland Masterlist
Peter Parker / Spider-Man Masterlist
All My Works / My Main Masterlist Navigation
74 notes · View notes
etoileholland · 1 year
Note
You should consider putting your requests in the tags so that more people see it! For my request, how do you feel about some domestic slow dancing in the kitchen to soften the reader after a disagreement or hard day? Thank you!
Thank you so much for the request! I really hope you enjoy it 🥰
Lover
Pairing: Tom Holland x reader
Word count: 1.2k
Warnings: none
Tumblr media
“How was your—”. Tom had asked when he heard you come in through the door, but before he could finish his sentence, he heard a loud thud from your bag hitting the hardwood floor, followed by a long sigh. He paid close attention to the sound of your feet shuffling across the floor, and noted when he heard you flop onto the couch.
“Was your day that bad?” He inquired. His question needed no response when all you could do was grab a pillow, hold it to your face and scream into it.
“This may have been the worst day of my life.” Your face was still pressed to the pillow, making your response muffled. You felt the pillow being removed from your face, and watched Tom place it to the side of you. He was silent, but looked at you with empathetic eyes.
“I was late to work because I narrowly missed the tube, and then ended up getting off on the wrong stop, so I had to run 10 blocks to my job.” Your response was hurried, and you had to inhale a sharp breath before continuing. “And then when I got to work, the annoying coworker from upstairs told me that I had a stain on my pants, and at first I didn’t believe him, you know? But then sure as shit, there was a blue stain on the back of my pants, and I have no idea where it came from.” You sighed. “I don’t even want to think about what it could be. And then my boss yelled at me for being late, and I almost burst into tears right in front of him.”
Tears were welling up in your eyes, and you looked up to the sky in hopes that it would stop the tears from producing. Tom, not wanting to interrupt, placed his hand on top of your knee.
“But the story gets even worse.” You added with a sharp tone. “I forgot to bring lunch, so I ran across the street to this kabob place, only to find out that my card declined for literally no good reason. I know there’s money in the bank but my card was acting up so bad, and I didn’t have enough cash to pay for it.” By now, the tears were falling down your face, but you continued on with your story. “So I ended up holding up the line until this nice lady paid for my food, and she gave me such a pitiful look.” You tilted your head downwards, letting the tears fall. The sniffles from crying were becoming frequent, and you knew that if you were to try to talk again, you would become a blubbering mess. Luckily, your day was okay after that point, but the events that occurred made you feel embarrassed.
Tom waited to make sure that you were done talking, and after a minute of waiting, he leaned forward and wrapped you in a long hug. He burrowed his head in your neck, and held you so tight that you were convinced that if he were to let go, you’d crumble. He held you as you sobbed, and rubbed soft circles on your back. “It’s okay love, I’ll always be here to console you after a rough day.”
His kind words made you cry harder, and you knew that what he said was true. Tom always listened to you when you’d come home after a hard day at work, and you were eternally grateful for him and his seemingly endless patience and kindness.
“I don’t deserve you.” You whispered.
“You do.” He whispered back. “You deserve all the kindness in the world.”
As the minutes spent in Tom’s arms passed, you were feeling better. When you were calm, you pulled apart from Tom’s embrace and placed a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you so much.” You said softly.
“I love you so much more.” He answered, not missing a beat.
“I bet I look a mess now, with my eyes all red and puffy.” You chuckled while cracking a smile.
“You still look beautiful, but I will admit the snot bubble coming out of your nose is not a cute look.”
You playfully smacked Tom on the arm and broke out into laughter. “Rude!” You jokingly exclaimed.
“What?” Tom questioned in a playful voice. “It’s true.” He knew that the best way for you to feel better was to poke fun at you, which proved to be successful yet again.
“I’ll go get cleaned up.” You stated as you left the couch and padded towards your shared bathroom.
“Sounds good, I’ll prepare dinner in the meantime.” Tom answered.
Tom’s love language was acts of kindness, which is why he always insisted on making dinner every night. He wasn’t the best chef, but it was the thought that counts.
Tonight was breakfast for dinner night, and since it only took a few minutes to prepare an omelette and pain perdu, he waited until you arrived to start cooking.
You loved watching Tom cook, so you quickly washed your face and made your way into the kitchen. Taking a seat on the countertop, you smiled at how serious he looked while cooking. His arm muscles flexed subtly as he whipped the egg mixture and dipped the bread into it, before placing the bread in the hot pan.
You really couldn’t have asked for a better person.
“It’s rude to stare.” Tom joked.
“Well I can’t help it when you look like that.” You remarked with a smirk. Tom’s mouth curled into a smile, and he leaned over to give you a soft yet quick kiss on the lips before resuming the cooking.
He always played music while he cooked or did chores, which was something you also did. He usually played one of his many playlists, but today he chose a playlist that has soft, romantic music.
A song you quickly recognized began to play, and your face softened. It was Lover by Taylor Swift—which is arguably one of the most romantic songs in our contemporary era. The beginning chords played, and you began to unconsciously sway to the music.
Tom, noticing your movement, turned off the stove and held his hand out to you. “Shall we dance, darling?” He inquired with a smile, and you grabbed his hand as he led you away from the stove. He placed his left hand on the small of your back, and held your right arm extended outward.
As the song played, you both swayed to the melody and waltzed around the kitchen. Tom held you close, his forehead resting against yours. He was so close you could feel his eyes fluttering closed, and his lips ghosted yours.
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close?
Tom tilted his head to kiss your lips, his touch soft and tender. He was such a gentle lover, and his affection was always so thoughtful. “You’re my lover.” He whispered to you, making you feel incredibly special.
“You’re my lover too, forever and ever.” You whispered back, breaking out into a giddy grin. “Thank you for always being there for me.” You leaned back just enough to see his face, and noticed how his gaze never left yours.
“I’ll be there for you, as long as you’ll have me.”
——
a/n: requests are open, so please send them in! And if you’d like to be included in my tag list, please message me ☺️
342 notes · View notes
f10werfae · 1 year
Text
Babyboy
Tumblr media
pairing: Boyfriend!Tom Holland x Older!GF!Reader
summary: Tom meets Y/n’s narcissistic older sister S/n who wants Tom all to herself; Y/n gets overprotective of her babyboy, showing just how possessive she really is (Tom is 26, Reader is 31) (fluff ending‼️) (Requested by @peterholland04 )
Tom Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection
likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“It’s okay dove, what’s the worst that could happen eh“ Tom whispered nuzzling his head into his lover’s neck, peppering soft kisses all over it. His hands clutching Y/n in his, the both of them sitting in the kitchen of her parent’s new house for their housewarming party. “She keeps staring at me like i’m some sort of exhibit” Y/n sighed leaning her head onto his shoulder, playing with his fingers on her lap.
Soon enough the couple are ushered out to sit in the living while the older adults took over the kitchen, with Y/n, Tom and her older sister being left alone. “So Tom where did you and my baby sister meet? Did you know she was never really a sight for the eyes until I fixed her up” S/n giggled said leaning forward, unbuttoning a few buttons of her shirt showing off her cleavage, making Y/n scoff subtly. Tom seeing this just held her tighter, even moving his woman to sit on his lap, just to show S/n that he was taken and deeply in love.
“Uh we met through a friend right babe? We just fell in love at first sigh-t” Tom said dramatically, watching S/n’s face try to hold back a scowl as Y/n turned his jaw to press a full open-mouthed kiss on his lips, interrupting their conversation. Tom’s eyes closing as his arms wrapped around his woman, his knees widening a bit to get her more comfortable.
“Whoops, sorry just can’t keep my hands off him, he’s just too irresistible” Y/n giggled wiping the saliva from the bottom of Tom’s chin, S/n looked on jealous as she saw the way Tom’s eyes sparkled looking at Y/n; his hands clearly itching to climb up the blouse she was wearing as she combed about his messy curls.
“No it’s okay! Remember your last boyfriend? He loved that too” S/n smirked taunting her younger sister; although Y/n’s eyes twitched in anger she kept her calm, feeling Tom’s hands rub her back soothingly. “Yeah. I remember Mark, in your bed mostly though not mine” Y/n replied back not even looking at her older sister, instead focusing on Tom and placing kisses onto his face; Tom earlier that morning had went through plans with Y/n, to prepare her for these type of comments.
“Haha, we both know that only happened because you weren’t gonna give the poor guy a baby, wasn’t that it? Or was it when you said you weren’t in the mood for sex? I don’t know, all I remember was that you couldn’t satisfy him, and who better than your big sissy”
S/n smirked knowing she hit Y/n right where it hurts, Y/n tightened her grip onto Tom’s button up, her eyes already welling up with tears with frustration . “You- I’ve dealt with your bullshit for so many years, all the “sisterly” ways you’ve stolen things I love. But ya know what? I’m glad you took Mark right outta my hands, he was a cunt and you know it too. He couldn’t keep it in his pants and used you as a rebound, where is he now “sissy?” Could you not satisfy him enough? Or did you finally see the pig of a man I had to be with?”
By the time Y/n had finished her piece, her chest was visibly breathing deeply, her finger pointed right at her sister menacingly as Tom held her waist tightly to make sure she wouldn’t start anything physical. S/n knew how wrong and toxic Mark was, Tom had swooped in as Y/n’s knight and saved her. Treating her like a princess, giving her a new definition of love.
“I- Well- Tom see? This is the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with? Really? She’s so unstable, a few words get her panties in such a twist” S/n laughed watching Y/n get up and start to gather her things from around the room, “Yes. Y/n is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, I honestly think i’d rather be found in a ditch than by your side S/n. Usually i’d stay quiet, but not when you’re disrespecting my woman and my family. She doesn’t deserve you as an older sister, in fact, I wouldn’t even wish a character like you on my worst enemy. What sort of person meddles with a person’s happiness, purely just for her own gain”
S/n sat there silent, looking like a child that had just been scolded, her body now leaned back and sitting up right in the chair; completely different from her pose trying to seduce Tom earlier. Y/n still standing just looked at her poor excuse of a sister, letting Tom gather the rest of her things, his jaw chiseled as his face remained stern and hard. “I’ll say bye to your parents love, and we’ll be on our way, to OUR house” Tom emphasised side eyeing S/n before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Why do you always treat me like this S/n? I don’t get it, what did I do to you?” Y/n whispered, her older sister stayed staring at the floor in silence for a while, “Because why do you deserve him? That’s what I don’t get, you were nothing before me”
“Yeah fuck you seriously, hope you find someone that loves you for something other than your ugly personality bitch” Y/n said leaning into her face, saying each word with venom, before walking out into the hallway and connecting her hands with Tom; the happy couple made their exit out of the suburban home.
-
“She will never change, told you she sucks” Y/n sighed, breaking the silence that took over their whole ride home, the atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife. Y/n’s eyes suddenly drifted to his lap, “Wait- Tommy baby, are you seriously horny right now, what the fuck is this?” She laughed palming his hardened cock through his trousers, watching him groan and slap her hand away.
“S-seeing you so feisty and snarky, just ya know, made me think of you in-in our bed” Tom whimpered adjusting his pants, his face flushed red probably due to embarrassment. “Aww did it now, babyboy” Y/n smirked knowing just how much he loved that nickname, especially when she used it to smother and cuddle him, or when she was bouncing herself onto his thick cock; feeling it harden again for their next few rounds.
“God you’re really my woman, let’s get into the house, n’ I want you to take your frustrations out on me, mommy” Tom whispered leaning in, his lips brushing against Y/n’s; her body visibly squirming in delight from the name he called her. The both of them wasting no time in reaching their bed, which ended in them Christening every surface in the household.
——/-
(Taglist no longer accepts new @, library blog for new users @f10werfaes-cosy-collection )
Taglist: @esposadomd @elenavampire21 @stuckysgirl27 @cookielovesbook-akie @theekyliepage @acornacre @fdl305 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @aerangi @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @vrittivsanghavi
460 notes · View notes
holyfruitsnax · 1 year
Text
Southern Hospitality
Tumblr media
Summary: Arvin stumbles across you having a little alone time and decides to help.
Pairing: Arvin Russell x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Masturbation, Slight praise kink, Fem & Male receiving, smutttt 18+ please!!!, cursing, never proofread <3
A/N: Not this almost not saving because my internet went out.
   Arvin’s knuckles thrummed against the old wooden door to your home a few times before stepping back with his hands locked behind himself. “Arvin! How nice to see you!” your mother smiled opening the front door wider so Arvin could come in. “S’nice to see you too Mrs. Y/LN. Is uh, is Y/N here?” Arvin glanced around to try and spot you to no avail. “Yep! She’s in her room, listen, I’ve got to pick up some things from the store, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. You like Spaghetti?” She grabbed up a little purse watching the young man nod. “Alright! Then you can join us for dinner!” She beamed before heading out.
   Arvin headed down the hall towards your room, boots gently thudding against the hard pine floor. Your bedroom door was ever so cracked almost like you were in a rush and meant to close it. Just as he went to push the door open the rest of the way with a smile, a soft whine caught Arvin’s attention making him lean his ear closer. Not a pained whine, put one of pleasure. Could you be...No... Arvin felt the sudden urge to take a peek through the slightly open door, a tinge embarrassed at the same time. She’s your friend, give her some space. Arvin decided he’d back away and wait for you to finish and act like he had no idea what you were doing. That is until the loveliest sound graced his ears.
   “Arvin~” You quietly called to him, well, not to him since you didn’t know he was there, but Arvin felt like you were. He felt his dick stir in his pants at the idea of his sweet Y/N getting off to him. So, he took a look and nearly fell out at the sight of your H/C hair messily tossed against your pillow while your fingers ran circles around your clit. Your eyes pressed shut, mouth hung open slightly, God he could practically fall to his knees at this masterpiece. He couldn’t help but push the door open more, leaning against the doorframe to get a better look at you, watching your fingers desperately paw at your sex.
   “Oh my- Arvin please~” You whined again, eyes snapping open as Arvin gave a deep chuckle. “I’m right here darlin’ just tell me what you need.” He hummed letting his dark brown eyes skim over your form. A gasp escaped your throat, trying to tug the covers up to no avail. There stood Arvin Russel, your best friend. His cap on tight, cigarette behind his left ear, eyes glazed over, and a bulge making way in his jeans. How long had he been there? He definitely heard. “I-I’m so sorry-” “Don’t stop on my account.” Arvin slowly clicked the door shut behind him, prowling over you like a bear looks at an elk. Hungry. “You’re not mad?” You furrowed your brows still clutching your blanket. “Mad? No...Turned on?...” He grinned gently pulling the cloth from your fingertips, bearing your skin to himself again, biting his bottom lip with a pleased groan.
   You couldn’t believe it, everything you’ve wanted was about to unravel. Arvin leaned in and kissed you, a rough hand cupping your jaw to keep you close. You pulled away a little resting your forehead against Arvin’s. “Help...Help me?” You swallowed thickly spreading your legs wider beneath the brunette. “My pleasure darlin’...” Arvin pulled you back in for a heated kiss, tongue pushing its way past your soft lips. His hands found your shoulders, laying you back down against the bed, pulling away from you with heavy breaths. Arvin climbed down the bed, unbuttoning his white shirt at the same time so he could toss it to the side. “So pretty~” He stared at your pussy while sliding a finger up and down the wetness that had gathered before popping it into his mouth with a moan. Wetting his finger, Arvin pushed it into you slowly, getting a feel for your tight velvet heat before adding another. He loved the sight of you writhing under him, soft moans luring him in closer.
   Looking down at Arvin you shifted your hips to match the pace of his fingers, swallowing thickly when his lust filled gaze met yours. “M-More!~” He cocked a brow watching you plead to him, you looked helpless. Removing his fingers from you, Arvin quickly shoved them in his mouth again, licking them clean while you watched. Leaning up, Arvin latched onto your left bud sucking and nipping causing your back to arch up into him. Swapping to the other side you could feel him smirking against your skin, he was proud of himself as he peppered kisses down your middle until he was met with your hot center again. Quick hands flipped his beat up cap backwards before delving his tongue deep into your cunt causing you to hiss and moan. Arvin lapped away at your center like he’d been starving in the desert, drenching his chin with your juices. “Oh my- gosh Arvin!” You moaned out as Arvin swapped his abuse to your clit, desperately hoping your parents weren’t home. “Ugh...That.” Arvin groaned against you, one hand moving to pop off his belt, smoothly tugging it through his belt loops, tossing it to the side “Say that again Y/N Darlin’~”.
   Arvin’s firm grip forced your shaking legs against the mattress, licking a stripe up your pussy, tongue swirling your sensitive and slightly swollen clit. Your body jolted feeling oh so close, you listened to Arvin’s instructions. “Feels so good Arvie!” You choked out, only for him to stop. “Why’d you-” Your eyes widened landing on Arvin’s now free cock, oh, that’s why. “Can I- I mean I’ve never. I might not be good at y’know.” You gulped sitting up and crawling over to Arvin’s panting body. “S’okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want to Doll.” He smiled, a gentleman as always. You smiled in return, wrapping your hand around his length watching his head thump against the wall in pleasure. “I want to.” You hummed, keeping your eyes on Arvin’s for a moment, testing yourself a little while slipping his cock into your mouth. 
   Arvin’s jaw clenched, teeth slightly showing while you bobbed your head a little, encouraged by his quiet moans and fingers combing against your scalp. You panicked feeling yourself gag slightly around him, moving to pull away out of embarrassment you were stopped by Arvin’s hand cupping the back of your neck. “S’okay, it happens. Take your time Darlin’ you’re doing so good for me.” Arvin’s voice had dropped lower in his throat, fingers gently rubbing at your neck, not holding you hostage, just there for support. So, you gathered yourself and kept going “Just like that...” He cooed. The longer you sucked, the easier it got, but also the more tired your poor jaw became. Finally having to pull away to get a good breath, Arvin led you to straddle his lap noticing you hold your jaw for a moment. “Sore?” He hummed stroking himself below you “A little...” You admit, Arvin’s lips caressing the edge of your jaw. “My poor baby... Means you were giving it your all, just for me.” He winked sending a shiver up your spine, of course you nodded.
   Lowering your hips slowly taking in Arvin’s cock, you both sighed as soon as your bodies made complete contact. Arvin gave you a moment, waiting for you to begin rolling your hips into his at your own pace. “Heavenly Darlin’....J-Just perfect.” His chest heaved under your fingertips. Your left hand drew shapes across Arvin’s lean chest, enjoying the muscles flexing every now and then while the other snaked behind his head to toss his hat aside, wanting to enjoy his thick curls that bounced with you both. Arvin couldn’t help himself as he began to buck deeper into you making your moans fill the small home. A tight feeling built in your belly as you continued to ride Arvin. “A-Arvin I think I’m getting-” “Alright, I’ve gotcha Darlin’...” He groaned, flipping you both so your back was against the sheets, leg hoisted over Arvin’s shoulder so he could pound into you at his own pace now. Immediately you tossed your head back in bliss, fingers clutching for anything they could reach.
   Arvin watched your tits bounce with each of his thrusts “Come on baby, let go for me Y/N.” he couldn’t help the sloppier pace of his thrusts. Your pussy clenched around him as you came, eyes slamming shut, head tilting back while you let out the loudest, most erotic call of Arvin’s name causing his bliss to join yours. The both of you relaxed, panting in unison as you stared at each other. “That was...” You sighed, loving the dopey smile plastered across Arvin’s face “Oh yeah.” He chuckled pulling out of you so he could lean down and capture your lips again. “I love you Arvie~” You mumbled tiredly against his lips. “I love you too Y/N Darlin’....And next time, come get me first.” He teased pushing some damp curls off his own forehead with a cocky grin. 
Alright, I’ll admit it, I love this and I love Arvin. I hope you do too Loves! - Snax <3
559 notes · View notes