You get a knock on your door, detectives wanting to use your apartment for a stakeout. Of course you say yes, little do they know you have a secret of your own. Little do they know you know more about their investigation then what they tell you that night
»»——⍟——««A/n: Omg im so excited for this. I hope it goes well
“Can I help you?” You looked at the two men standing at your door, confusion written all over your face. It is late at night, and the banging on your front door broke you from the activities you were in, drawing you to the door.
“Hi, sorry for bothering you. I’m Detective Marcus Ryan, and this is my partner, Detective Chris Stevens. We’re part of an investigation on some illegal activity in this area and building. Your apartment is in the best position for a stakeout on the building and neighborhood. It will be a great service to the community if we catch this person we’ve been after. Do you mind us using your apartment for the investigation?”
“I guess not,” you step aside, “for the community.” You nervously laugh as they walk into your apartment, equipment already in hand.
“I know this may feel like a major intrusion on your privacy, I assure you it will only be the two of us, and we have no reason or intention to go through your home. Our main focus will be the windows located in the living room,” Marcus says as they walk in, already setting the equipment down and getting to work.
“No problem. May I ask what illegal activity it is that’s taking place here? I’ve lived here for so long, I can’t imagine something so serious going on here,” you say.
“I understand, but unfortunately, that information is confidential. You don’t need to worry tho. This activity won’t put someone like you in any danger,” Marcus replies.
“Ok. Well, can you say who you’re looking for?” you lightly urge.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but London is a popular area for mob activity. London’s top mobster has resurfaced. We don’t know what for or why, but we are determined to catch him this time around. His name is Tom Holland, London’s topmost dangerous mobster.”
“I see. We’ll I hope your investigation goes well. It’s late, so I’m heading to bed. You guys can help yourselves to do whatever you need. Bathroom is over there, and the fridge is full. Help yourselves,” you smile.
“Of course, thank you again, ma'am,” Marcus says.
You walk to your bedroom, opening and closing the door behind you, seeing the man standing in the middle of your room. “Hi,” you quietly laugh, walking closer to him.
“Hi,” he smirks. “They out there?”
“Yup,” you stand in front of him and wrap your hands around his torso.
“They suspect anything?”
“Of course not. You think I don’t know what I’m doing, Tommy?”
You get a knock on your door, detectives wanting to use your apartment for a stakeout. Of course you say yes, little do they know you have a secret of your own. Little do they know you know more about their investigation then what they tell you that night
»»——⍟——««A/n: Omg im so excited for this. I hope it goes well
“Can I help you?” You looked at the two men standing at your door, confusion written all over your face. It is late at night, and the banging on your front door broke you from the activities you were in, drawing you to the door.
“Hi, sorry for bothering you. I’m Detective Marcus Ryan, and this is my partner, Detective Chris Stevens. We’re part of an investigation on some illegal activity in this area and building. Your apartment is in the best position for a stakeout on the building and neighborhood. It will be a great service to the community if we catch this person we’ve been after. Do you mind us using your apartment for the investigation?”
“I guess not,” you step aside, “for the community.” You nervously laugh as they walk into your apartment, equipment already in hand.
“I know this may feel like a major intrusion on your privacy, I assure you it will only be the two of us, and we have no reason or intention to go through your home. Our main focus will be the windows located in the living room,” Marcus says as they walk in, already setting the equipment down and getting to work.
“No problem. May I ask what illegal activity it is that’s taking place here? I’ve lived here for so long, I can’t imagine something so serious going on here,” you say.
“I understand, but unfortunately, that information is confidential. You don’t need to worry tho. This activity won’t put someone like you in any danger,” Marcus replies.
“Ok. Well, can you say who you’re looking for?” you lightly urge.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but London is a popular area for mob activity. London’s top mobster has resurfaced. We don’t know what for or why, but we are determined to catch him this time around. His name is Tom Holland, London’s topmost dangerous mobster.”
“I see. We’ll I hope your investigation goes well. It’s late, so I’m heading to bed. You guys can help yourselves to do whatever you need. Bathroom is over there, and the fridge is full. Help yourselves,” you smile.
“Of course, thank you again, ma'am,” Marcus says.
You walk to your bedroom, opening and closing the door behind you, seeing the man standing in the middle of your room. “Hi,” you quietly laugh, walking closer to him.
“Hi,” he smirks. “They out there?”
“Yup,” you stand in front of him and wrap your hands around his torso.
“They suspect anything?”
“Of course not. You think I don’t know what I’m doing, Tommy?”
|| summary: originally paid to be an escort for the notorious mob family, the hollands, the reader and tom meet which embarks them on a very precarious relationship that threatens everything tom and his family have built.
|| author’s note: this is really really long, sorry but i had to set the mood for the story ya know? if you enjoyed, and want me to continue, let me know.
warnings: this story will contain smut, violence, lanaguage, and other heavy themes so read at your own risk!
“No way. No way in hell.” You shake your head aggressively, pushing the thick fluorescent-yellow envelope back to the other side of the table.
“Girl, this is fast, easy money. A crap ton of money.” Your friend, Danielle broached desperately from her chair opposite yours. Using the term ‘friend’ tentatively, because the only thing the two of you have in common is this side business you do on occasion to make ends meet.
“Having rich, old, lonely men take me on fancy dinners is one thing. But going to a party with some of the most dangerous people in the city, possibly even in the country, that’s on a whole other level.” You flatten your lips in defiance, your disposition cementing as Danielle struggles to find a rhyme or reason for you to participate in tonight’s event.
“Look, it’s just one night and you don’t have to fuck anyone you don’t want to, same as before. You’re just there to look pretty on some big shots arm, and then your rent,” she waves the envelope at you, “is paid in full for the next few months. Easy.” Resting your elbows on the table, you place your head in your hands, and sigh heavily. The slight shift in your demeanor is taken as a sign of vulnerability, and Danielle uses it as an opportunity to play on your emotions. “I really need this money, but I don’t want to go into this party without at least a familiar face to keep me company.”
Peaking at her through your fingers, you note that she has on her best pleading face, and her bottom lip is curved out into a prominent pout. Exhaling a long exasperated breath, you concede, reaching for the money. “Fine, but I’m not going to become some personal prostitute for the Holland family. We clear?” Her face splits into a shit-eating grin, and she nods enthusiastically. “Crystal.”
Just like that, you’d signed yourself away for a night with the most notorious crime family in modern London history; which was probably more dangerous and reckless, than if you’d agreed to sign your soul away to the devil - except the devil wouldn’t pay as well as the Hollands did.
“Oh, and there’s a certain dress code you have to follow tonight, so be sure to pick up your dress from this place.” Danielle extends a wrinkled paper to you, with numbers scribbled on it. You eye it with uncertainty, but take it nonetheless, typing the address into your phone. “I’ll call and tell them you’re in, see you tonight. Driver will be there at 7 sharp.” She beams, her giddiness evident in her near-skip as she walks to the door.
When Google Maps loads to the location, your jaw pops open, and you glance around the room in shock as if anyone else could see what you’re looking at. The directions had opened to the most expensive designer dress store in the entire city and as much as you hated to admit it, your curiosity was peaked. As was your interest in tonight’s event, and its host.
__________________________________________
The dress was stunning, as it should be for its pretty price, a delicate satin shade of pearl-white colored its surface. Its thin straps clung tightly to your shoulders, allowing the otherwise loose material to hang promisingly over your assets. It was as if the gown had been tailored to fit you like a glove, clinging to you in just the right ways, and amplifying the tone of your skin with its illuminating color.
Your eyes scanned over the figure reflected in your bathroom mirror, stunned by every intricate detail that had been woven into your final appearance. For your face, you’d kept it simple, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself, by highlighting your features in the most natural way possible. However, for your lips you’d chosen a radiant red, amplifying their curves and plumpness. As for your hair, a simple updo sufficed in order to expose your long neck and the lace-tied back of your dress.
The time read 6:58, and with one final glance at yourself in the mirror, you moved to head down stairs. Just as you grabbed your clutch purse, there was a forceful knock at the door that caused you to jump slightly in surprise. Checking through the peep hole, you discovered a blonde man dressed in a perfectly tailored black and white suit; your driver, you presumed. Timidly, you opened the door, taking a small cautious step back at the looming figure before you.
“Miss (y/l/n),” he greeted coldly polite, his striking blue eyes piercing into yours, “I’m Mr. Osterfield. I will be your driver for the evening.” His name was Harrison, you’d come to recognize him as the Holland’s right hand man; wherever they seemed to go, he was sure to follow close behind. “How did you know my room number?” You question, your eyes racking up and down his body in acute suspicion.
“The receptionist in the lobby gave it to me.” He responds flatly, bored with the indifferent curiosity presented in your demeanor. “That’s confidential information, he wouldn’t of just given it to you.” You retort, the underlying accusation in your tone breaks his stiff features for a split second, a smirk creeping at the corners of his lips. “I can be very persuasive when I need to be.” The glimmer in his eyes sends warning sirens off in your brain, alerting to you the justifiable apprehension spreading in the pit of your stomach. “Come, we don’t want to be late.” He offers you his arm, which take after another moment of silent contemplation, wondering if you’d just made a terrible mistake.
__________________________________________
The building was magnificent, every detail precisely and intricately molded into place to form the entire mansion. The walls were painted with decorative colors of gold and white, which made them cold yet alluring at the same time. The marble floor was waxed to perfection, making it almost painful to walk on, afraid to dirty or smudge it. With high ceiling and vast corridors, the shuddering sense of small inadequacy in comparison was palpable; making you all the more uneasy. Harrison had stayed by your side, escorting you through two doorways, before reaching a large, remarkably crowded room. It was alight with music, idle conversations, and a few staggeringly uneasy laughs.
As you entered into the room, the noise was brought to a dismal spew of hushed voices, as most eyes turned to you. No doubt captivated by your dress and unfamiliar face, peaked with lustful curiosity. For the first time since you left the apartment, you’d silently wished that Harrison had stayed by your side; suddenly feeling unprotected. In desperate need of a distraction, you busied yourself by scanning the room for Danielle’s olive face. For a change, seeing it would be a rare pleasantry; one you’d be more than happy to take full advantage of. Unable to spot her, you timidly walk towards the bar, unsure of what to do with yourself, but wanting nothing more than be away from the doorway, and the center of everyone’s attention.
This was your first time being thrown blindly into a room with more than one potential client, and knowing that every one of them is more dangerous than they appear, only fueled your apprehensions. Before the well-dressed bartender could pay you any mind, seeing as he was currently being hassled about some drink mishap, a broad middle-aged man takes the available seat opposite you. Instinctively, your eyes flicker over to meet his, and you almost immediately regret doing so. There’s no name to the face, but it’s all too familiar. You’d seen this man on the news serveral times, and not because he was being applauded for his acts as good a samaritan.
Mainly, it was speculation as to whether or not he was connected to the latest crime; robbery, political bribery, or murder. From the impression you got, he had at least one hand in every politicians cookie jar, leading you to believe that he was probably more powerful and influential than most people in this room. But even so, there was one person who he still answered to, and that was Hollands. The thought alone, terrified you.
In hopes to avoid conversation, you ripped your eyes away from his, drawing your gaze back towards the preoccupied bartender. Though your eyes were elsewhere, you weren’t blind to the presence next to you. From what you’d seen, he was dressed in a designer black and purple tinted suit, with a sapphire colored handkerchief and undershirt. His jet black hair was slicked back, flattened against the top of his head, and he had serveral rings on. However, the detail that struck you the most, was his electric green eyes; the stare behind them was intense and harsh. They were not a welcoming or calming shade or green, more of a warning color; the kind that alerted you to the type of man you were dealing with - one who was not to be tussled around.
“My, my. Someone’s rude.” His clipped tone rang clear through the air, scratching its way along your skin, before biting into your ear. It was difficult to remain, or appear to be, calm and collected; unfazed by his threatening attitude. Nevertheless, you exercised your strong will and backbone, turning to face him with a polite smile. “Pardon me, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Extending your hand out to him, you tilt your head to the side in welcome, hoping it will calm the rage burning his glare.
His eyes don’t falter from yours as he takes your hand, shaking it slowly. The skin is surprisingly rough, the tops of his hands hairy with age, and the warmth in his grasp is unsettling. He shakes your hand for too long, as if to drag out the experience, in hopes to subdue you with its evident intimidating-effect over you. Eventually, he pulls his hand away from yours and uses his free fingers to stroke along the corners of his mustache.
“You know, you’re the first girl to show up tonight. I’m not sure how the others expect to top this.” He gestures to your body with his free hand, his eyes following it, unabashedly racking up and down your figure. “I think they’ll manage to surprise you.” You smile tightly, tempted to turn back around, but the unsurness of what would happen if you did, stops you.
He shakes his head, dismissing himself from deep thought, a faint hum falling from his parted lips. “Don’t know how Tom expects me to fucking wait,” he growls under his breath, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them with a newfound determination, “screw it.” He grasps your wrist tightly, taken by surprise it outweighs the pain from his grip, your feet barely keeping up with him as he practically drags you into the crowd.
Blinking at his back, your mouth is open, ready to protest but having no idea what to say or how to articulate it into words. You’re here, being paid as an escort, so you’re not exactly in a position to say no. This had never happened to you before, the men you’d been out with never asked for anything more than a kiss on the cheek at the end of a very expensive dinner, that they had paid for. Danielle had said you didn’t have to fuck anyone you didn’t want to, but you were now getting the feeling that that’s what it meant on paper, not necessarily what was actually going to happen. How exactly did she expect you to turn down the most notorious mobsters in London; if they wanted to take you, they were going to. But, you’d be damned if you’d go quietly.
Tugging on his grasp, you manage to loosen it enough to free your wrist, ignoring the sting from your skin burning as you straighten your posture - tightening your hands around your purse in attempts to reign in control over them. “What do you think you’re doing?” His head whips around to face yours, and if looks could kill. Narrowing your eyes at him, you flatten your lips in defiance, taken slightly aback by his gaul.
“No, what do you think you’re doing?” Your comment is only mildly assertive, not wanting to anger him more than he appears to be now. “I’m not being paid to allow you to do with me as you please.” His mouth falls open, shocked more than anything else, and he chuckles bitterly. “You’re a whore, who’s being paid to make sure that I’m satisfied. And taking you to my limo, then fucking you senseless, would beyond satisfy me.” As his hand reaches for you again, you step back, feeling a muscular arm wrap around your waist as you do so. Turning your head, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, eyes widening as your jaw pops open.
The man beside you is none other than Tom Holland, the youngest and newest king of the Holland family business. The whisperings you’d heard of him were no better than the man across from you, but knowing that he was the one behind the curtain, pulling all the strings; orchestrating every crime these men were committing, was enough to send shivers up your spine. Nearly trembling in his loose grasp, he skates his thumb soothingly over the exposed skin at the back of your dress, the contact causing you to verbally gasp.
“Tony,” Tom address flatly, “what’s going on here?” He’s yet to look at you, but his side features are unmistakably tense. His jaw is tight and his eyes are narrowed, all of his attention aimed at Tony; who’s now practically shaking under the scrutiny. “Mr. Holland, I apologize if I made a scene-”
Tom stops him with a simple, but swift, wave of his hand, shaking his head slightly. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked what was going on.” The menacing inflection in which he spoke, sent clear signals that he was someone who, when demanding something, better be met with no resistance or sorry excuses. “Sir, I was just, she- we- I, was taking her to- we were only going to be gone a few moments.”
You had to admit that it was immensely satisfying to watch a once seemingly unstoppable force, fluster over himself in fear; like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The irony causes you to smile slightly. “Tony, you are a guest in my house, as is this lovely woman, and I expect that my guests are treated with respect. That includes respecting one another. Now, no matter what way you try to spin it, there is no excuse for touching her the way you did, and I find it extremely rude that you placed your hands on my escort, disobeying my specific instructions. Now, I want you to leave.”
Tony has fallen silent, clinging to Tom’s every word, nodding his head in quiet obedience before quickly leaving without another comment. The power that Tom wields over these tycoons is astonishing, and you can’t help but wonder if you perhaps judged him too soon; maybe he wasn’t as bad as he appears to be. After all, he did just save you from a mad man.
“Thank you.” Your words are a barely an audible whisper, and if he wasn’t standing so close, he wouldn’t of heard you. For the first time, since he joined your side, he turns to face you. Releasing your waist, he steps back, giving you his attention. As his features begin to flood into your vision, you can’t help but note how uniquely attractive he is. The way his brown curls were styled neatly into perfection, and faint freckles danced their way along his cheeks, was stunning. Everything about him was arranged in such a particular order, that it was as if God crafted and handpicked Tom’s appearance himself.
His eyes were a glowing melt of brown, and they were hard to resist when they met yours with such intimacy. As if he’d known you for years. One of his eyes brows raises at you in question, and you immediately feel the need to clarify. “For stepping in when you did.” You explain, awkwardly shifting under his stare.
“Not a problem, love.” His voice has changed, it’s much warmer now, a smooth melody to your ears; surprisingly welcoming. “I don’t like to share my women.” Just as the words fall from his mouth, that brief fleeting moment of open-mindedness is thrown out the window, and you can’t help but blink at him in disgust. “Your women?” You seethed, crossing your arms defensively.
“Yes.” He remarks blankly, as if its the most obvious concept in the world. “And what makes you think that, exactly?” As powerful and intimidating as he is, there’s a self-restraint to him; giving you a false sense of security in the hopes that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you physically, if you lashed out. He licks his lips, clicking his tongue while shaking his head slightly, a smile curving at corners of his mouth. “Are you not at my event, wearing a dress I bought, and not doubt happily counting that payment you recieved from me earlier?” He’s taken a few steps towards you, closing what little distance remained between the you two. “That doesn’t mean-”
“What it means,” he interjects, “is that for tonight, I own you.” The authority in his assertion sends chills up your spine, destroying what backbone you had, leaving you feeling small and vulnerable. You’d thought he stepped in to protect you from Tony’s attack, but in reality he was simply staking his claim, marking what was his. It was clear now that you were at his mercy, to do with as he pleased, not anyone else. “Now, what do you fancy?” He offers, gesturing towards the bar, hooking his arm through yours and leading you back over to it. Your mind has become blank, leaving you at complete loss for words.
“I think red wine to match that delicious color on your lips.” He decides, pulling the bartenders attention with his fingers and ordering you a drink. As he extends the glass to you, he pauses before placing it into your awaiting hand, “what do you say?” His eyes are daggers, piercing into yours, flaring with an underlying enigmatic energy you hadn’t noticed before. Fortunately your autopilot has begun to function and saves you from any further mishap, “thank you, Mr. Holland.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he places the glass in your hand, being sure to brush his fingers along yours. The contact tightens the coil of apprehension and worry growing in your stomach, and you raise the liquid courage to your mouth, welcoming its taste. “Now, may I have this dance…” He pauses, awaiting your name. “(Y/N).” You mumble into the rim of the glass.
“(Y/N)”, he repeats before offering his hand to yours.
__________________________________________
For the rest of the evening Tom had been nothing, if not an absolute gentleman, nearly allowing you to forget the vicious words he’d spoken earlier. When it came time for the conclusion of the party, every other woman that had showed up, escorted the men to their rooms for the evening. It came as no surprise to you when Tom began leading you to one of the various bedrooms in the house, and after several glasses of wine you felt more confident than before - less skittish and weak.
The room he led you in to was magnificent, and was appropriately sized in comparison to the other parts of the house you’d seen; tall ceiling, white king size bed with a glorious carved headboard to match, and double doors that led out to a balcony which overlooked the property. As beautiful as the room was, it had no personality. There was no signature color, design or any other distinguishing characteristics; which was a real indicator that led you to believe it was nothing more than a cookie cutter bedroom.
“Is this your room?” You questioned, glancing over your shoulder at him as you continued into the bedroom. “No,” he shook his head, undoing the buttons of his jacket, “I don’t take anyone to mine. This is one of my various guest beds.” Whether or not it was his intention, you were insulted that he didn’t see you as worthy of being brought to his room. Turning to face him, you’re half tempted to display your disgust but air on the side of caution and concede on saying nothing. Shrugging his jacket off, he folds it before placing it on the foot of the bed. He hooks his fingers into his bow tie, disheveling it enough so that it hangs loosely around his neck.
As much as you wish you were, you’re not immune to his prepossessing features, and even with your inherit distaste towards him, you can’t help but wonder what he’d be like in bed. Before he can catch you gawking at him, you look down at your fingers, toying with your manicured nails. Each step you sense him making towards you, adds to the feeling of entrapment; suffocating you to the point of fear. The shine of his patent leather shoes comes into view, as he stands before you. At such close proximity, you catch a whiff of his delectable cologne, no doubt designer, and you close your eyes at the smell - inhaling deeply.
One of his hands reaches forward, placing his index finger under you chin to lift it, bringing your gaze to meet his. “Don’t worry, darling.” His breath is hot against the cool of your cheeks, and the contact, no matter the amount, of him touching you is unnerving. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.” He assures, his eyes softening as his thumb runs along your jaw before stroking your cheek. The sensation is pleasant, but nonetheless a reminder of what his intentions are.
“Aren’t you though? Taking advantage of women, because you’ve asserted your power and wealth over them, which gives you some demented delusion that they’re your property to do with as you please.” The words fly out of your mouth before you have time to filter or stop them, and your eyes cautiously scan his face to gauge his reaction. Tom’s eyebrows raise in disbelief, as his mouth pops open in attempts to compose a structured sentence. His hand falls from your face and he quietly scoffs, shaking his head slightly.
“I’mnot a fucking rapist.” The revulsion in his voice is palpable, and he narrows his eyes at you, taken aback by your subtle accusation. By how offended he appears to be, there’s a small sting of shame and guilt growing in your side, for lashing out. “It’s just,” he runs an exasperated hand through his hair, “this is how the night usually ends with women like you.”
“Women like me?” You bait, blinking at him in question. “Whores.” He clarifies, almost dismissively, as if he knew of some preceding lifestyle you’ve had. “I am not a whore.” You refute, glaring at him. He gives you a doubtful smile, a hint of amusement hiding behind his hooded eyes. “For your information, I’ve never slept with a client in my life, but I can see how you might’ve missed that, as you’ve been too busy basking in your own arrogance to be able to understand anything about anyone besides yourself.”
His expression shifts again, leaning more towards amusement than anything else, and for the first time of the night, he smiles to his eyes, revealing his teeth. They’re perfectly shaped and arranged, a beaming shade of porcelain white that immediately captivates your attention. Damn he’s beautiful. “What?” You snap at his chuckles, attempting to conceal your smile with annoyance.
“I’d just love to see what other skills your mouth has, besides putting me in my place.” He’s smirking now, and his eyes have darkened several shades, their attention falling to your mouth. Instinctively, your tongue darts out to wet your lips, noting his reaction when you do so. “Well, that’s not going to happen.” You feign certainty, ignoring the fact that his bottom lip is caught between his teeth; which is one of the sexiest sights you swore you’ve ever seen.
“Fortunately, I’m a patient man.” He chortled, his hand coming up to tuck a fallen hair behind your ear. “Can patience wait till never?” Sarcasm is dripping off of every word that falls from your mouth, but you’re throughly amused by this childish bickering. “Oh, you give yourself too much credit, kitten,” he sighs, “eventually you’ll give in, and I can not wait for the day I see you on your knees below me.” His thumb strokes over your ear, tugging gently at the lobe before dropping his hand back to his side.
The vitality between you has become much too intense, the air practically cracking underneath the tension, and you know if you stay what might happen. You refuse to allow yourself to become a pawn in his game. Another notch in his belt. Another nameless face that he’d soon forget after having his fill of you. You respected yourself too much to become victim to his persuasions, and with that understanding, you ached for freedom.
“Can I go home?” You murmur, swallowing hard. For what feels like the hundredth, you watch as his expression shifts into conflict and confusion at something you’ve said. “You wanna leave?” He sounds surprised, but also acutely offended. You nod silently, tearing your gaze away from his to reexamine your fingers as you did before. There’s a long moment of silence, before he eventually sighs in defeat, walking over to the phone on the bedside table.
There’s an exchange of hushed words, then he hangs up the call, walking over to the bed to grab his jacket. “Come, I’ll walk you out.” He opens the door, stepping to the side and allowing you to take the lead. The walk through the halls is taken in comfortable, but deafening silence, neither of you sure what to say to the other. As you approach the entry way to the house, Tom stops you with a gentle tug on your arm. “Here,” he shrugs off his jacket, placing it over your shoulders, “it’s cold outside.”
The act is seemingly absentminded to him, but it’s such an unexpected and endearing gesture that you feel a flush spreading along your cheeks. “Thank you.” You smile, snuggling into the warmth and comfort of the silk inner-lining of his jacket. Stepping into the brisk breeze of the night, you become immensely more grateful for the comfort provided by the additional clothing, pulling the sleeves tightly around you. The valet turns to you both and smiles politely, “the car should be coming around any second, sir.” Tom nods in acknowledgement, shifting so that he’s closer to you.
“Am I the only girl leaving?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Well, you were paid for the full night, as were the others, so technically you’re not supposed to leave. But, yes. You are.” There’s a hint of admiration behind his remark, as if he’s proud that his girl decided not stay and fuck him like the others. To be completely honest, he was. Of course, he wanted you and he wouldn’t of been disappointed if you did stay, but that would’ve been much too boring. You had set yourself apart, refusing to sleep with Tony and him, made you interesting. A challenge that Tom was more than happy to fight for.
Within a few seconds the limo pulls around the front of the house, a different man from before stepping out to open the door for you. Tom walks you to the car, dismissing the driver with a glance, then turning to face you. “I would say goodbye, but I have a feeling I’ll see you again. Sooner or later.” His tone is very matter-of-fact, but his eyes are pooling with hopefulness. “Don’t hold your breath.” You half-chuckle, moving to take off his jacket. “Keep it,” he interjects, waving his hand, “I’ve got a hundred just like it.” Smiling at him, you lean forward and place a swift but tantalizingly sweet kiss on his cheek. Staining it with your florescent red imprint. “Good night, Tom.” His eyes meet yours again, alight with a newfound determination, and softness to them you hadn’t seen before. “Good night, (Y/N).”
Stepping into the car, Tom shuts the door behind you, and watches at you drive off into the night. With the comfort of the leather upholstery beneath you, and the warmth of Tom’s jacket, which you would later come to find out that he had discreetly placed his number inside one of its pocket, your eyes slowly started to flutter shut. Intoxicated by the smell of him surrounding you, you were inevitably pulled into a quick sleep, your mind instinctively conjuring up thoughts of Tom.
Unaware of it at the time, but this would be the first of many nights, where your dreams would drift to him. He would come to own your every thought and waking moment, teasing and tormenting you with his presence. As Tom had predicted, you’d given yourself too much credit. You were his, and you were going to find yourself on your knees for him, sooner or later.
|| author’s note: depending on what you guys think, i may or may not make this into a series, so let me know. also tons of angst in this!!
The hold you had on your clutch purse was so tight that your knuckles had become a visible sheet of white. As you stormed down the empty corridor your heels clicked and echoed off the marble floor and high ceiling, like a war drum; alerting anyone within earshot that you were not to be fucked with right now.
Basking in your own stubborn self-righteousness, you ignored the pleas chasing after you and continued down the hall, making a direct line for the parking lot. “Hey, hey. Stop.” Finally a deseperate hand caught your arm, pulling you to an abrupt halt. Quickly snatching it away, you move to walk again but Tom turns and stands in front of you - effectively keeping you from leaving. “What is your problem?” His voice is sharp and hushed, his eyes burning an intense shade of brown.
You raise your eyebrows in surprise, your mouth popping open at his unmitigated gall. “My problem?” You sneer through gritted teeth, “you’re unfucking-believable. You know that?” He cocks his head at you, straining the muscles in his neck until they soundly crack, a common kink he has the tendency to do when he’s mad. Really fucking mad. “I’m unbelievable? I’m not the one that just stormed out of a room like a petulant child, forcing me to leave my very powerful, and highly-irritable guests unattended. Which by the way, is not a great reflection of me as host, or a business partner.” His voice has raised, and his hands are held in fists, balled up in his pockets, restraining themselves against the tight material of his dress pants.
“I didn’t make you come after me.” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. His features flatten, and he sighs heavily. “Yet here I am,” he remarks bitterly, “so why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong.” It’s not a request, and at this point you know arguing would just be fighting an uphill battle that you’re inevitably bound to lose. Tom is the only person you know more stubborn than you. “I don’t feel comfortable with the way that woman was talking to you. Nor do I appreciate being covertly placed into the corner of the room, like a stray mutt with rabies. Are you ashamed of me or something?”
Tom looks slightly surprised by your sudden unabashed omissions of neglect, but also acutely annoyed. “If I was ashamed of you,” he takes a step forward, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket to cup your chin, “you wouldn’t have been in that room.” His thumb skates over your bottom lip, and dances its way over to your cheek which it strokes gently. Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to his touch momentarily, but the feeling of his hand on you only echos the image of the way it was touching the bitch in the red dress earlier. You turn your head away from his hand and shake it slightly.
“That’s not enough for me,” you sibilate, “I won’t be treated like some side whore, while you parade around with those prestigious women because of their association to men with titles that can help further your business.” You take in a shaky, but steadying breath as you straighten your shoulders; bracing yourself for Tom’s outrage.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Tom shakes his head in dismay, “come on, let’s go.” He grabs your arm forcibly and moves to lead you back towards the party, but you immediately tug it free. “No.” Is all you can manage as you stand your ground. “No, what?” He growls, narrowing his eyes at you. “I won’t be apart of it.”
He furrows his eyebrows at you in angry confusion, awaiting your explanation. “Her or me.” Tom rolls his eyes, running an exasperated hand through his hair, smoothing it back into perfect style. “This isn’t a youorher thing, this is business.” His voice is a low intense bark, and his eyes are closed as he tries to reign in his anger. “Fine,” you concede, “business or me.” Tom opens his eyes, his features falling in shock as he gapes at you. He blinks a few times, slightly shaking his head, his jaw tightening. “Don’t do this. Don’t go there.” He warns, taking a step closer. Instinctively, you step back and you watch as the panic washes over his face.
“Please,” his voice breaks slightly, his stern demeanor having taken a complete 180, looking more vulnerable than he ever has before. You so desperately want to give into him, dropping the whole damned thing, and following him back to the party; but deep down you knew - you knew this was now or later. Eventually, the two of you were going to reach this impasse and you needed to know which was more important to him. Only slightly comforted that this moment was happening now, rather than a few years in, you remained firm in your position.
“Business or me.” You repeated flatly, your eyes searched his for any clue as to what he was thinking; and amongst the panic, fear, betrayal, and vulnerability, you saw a cool resolve. Something you hadn’t noticed before, but knew deep down had always been there. He didn’t want this to happen, he didn’t think it ever would, but he knew, as well as you did, that his mind was already made up. Tom had come to this decision long before he’d even met you, no doubt having it instilled from a young age by his domineering-tycoon farther. There was no room for love in his life, no room for error or compromise, or any of the other complications that came with a real relationship. And you’d never be able to accept that, you’d always need and want more from him. More than he could give.
As you came to this realization, you’d wished for nothing more than to go back and not have said anything at all, but it was too late. Your relationship would be forever changed, tainted by this true understanding of each other. He’d never looked more transparent, yet you could still see the inner and physical struggle he was having; his fingers slightly twitching as he contemplated reaching out for you and his eyes begging you to stay.
“Okay,” your voice was a breathy whisper, “I’ll make it easy for you.” Without giving yourself enough time to back out of the situation, or jump into Tom’s awaiting arms, you shove past him and practically run out of the building. Much to your dismay, you feel the all-too familiar sting of tears prick in your eyes, threatening to fall as you reach the valet outside.
“Ma'am?” He acknowledges, eyeing you with concern. “A driver, please.” You manage, your words choking past the lump in your throat. The crushing weight on your chest, was one of the most painful things you’d ever experienced. It was if your heart had been smashed into a million pieces, rather than breaking straight down the middle; it would never recover from this, or be pieced neatly back together, it was obliterated by the incident that had just occurred. The warm wetness of tears stained your cool cheeks, as they slid down them before falling off your jaw in slow droplets. Your vision blurred as they pooled in your eyes, not being able to blink them away fast enough, and if not for the chauffeur coming out to guide you to the limo, you wouldn’t have even recognized your driver.
“Home, I presume Miss?” He suggests timidly, offering you a gentle hand to help you into the car. You nodded silently, and gave him a small polite smile as you took his proffered handkerchief. With the door shut, you were given the privacy to cry freely, allowing the once quiet sniffs to be overcome by sobbing gasps for air. Looking out the tinted window, you watched as the building disappeared behind you, it and your relationship with Tom fading into the black nothingness of the night.
Everything around you was a cruel reminder of him; his favorite whiskey accompanied with the glasses that you’d drank from earlier, your lipstick still staining the rim of one. The leather seats you sat on were embroidered in gold with his initials designed on them. All of the special moments the two of you had shared in the back of this limo, came flooding in as your eyes scanned your surroundings. The crushing reality of what you just left behind sets in, and the hole expanding in the pit of your stomach leads you to believe that you’ve made a grave mistake. Possibly the biggest one of your life.
pairing: singledad!mob!tom holland x singlemom!reader
words: 5.7k
warnings: SMUT,swearing, major violence, depictions of violence and blood, rough sex, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, dom!tom & creampie.
summary: Everything was perfect. The two-and-a-half years since they first met have been nothing but love and respect. Until, y/n comes home one night, her husband gone for the time being. It all somehow crumbles in front of her, she can’t help but question it. Though this thought is nothing to what he feels in that very moment. It’s pure fear and terror, a pent-up storm of worry. Their comfort zone is nothing longer alive, it was buried and left to rot.
a/n:so. it must be said, i went through three different plots before i settled on this one. that is why this goddamn fic has taken me so long to write. This is probably the last mob!tom holland fic i’ll write because bitch has a lot of other AUs that i would honestly prefer to write. enjoy!
y/n waited for a moment. It wasn’t long, but it was enough she had to check the clock on her wrist. 1:37am. Although she heard the snoring of Lottie, sound asleep in her bed, y/n knew otherwise. She knew that as soon as her feet hit the carpeted floor of her daughter’s bedroom, the girl would shoot straight up and whine for y/n to come back. She loved Lottie with all of her heart, like all of her kids, however sometimes the precious little angels got on her nerves. Just last Tuesday is a prime example as y/n desperately fiddling with the buttons of Tom’s shirt, wanting nothing more to take every inch of him while his whole operation continued below them. Just as she had popped the last latch, James called out for his father from across the house, most likely because one of the boys got hurt again from the play fighting they insisted they do. Sadly, y/n redid her husband’s buttons and let him leave her widely aroused and dissatisfied.
As she watched Lottie take in her small breaths, y/n recounted the moments. She still remembers her wedding, clear as day. It was in their garden, with the trees dressed in beautiful pink silk and the flowers somehow in full bloom. No one was around, it’s was secluded and perfect. It was just them, Theo and James stood side by side, their matching suits made her heart swell. Their perfectly rosy cheeks lit up as they saw y/n make her way down the grassy aisle. Though she never saw it, Tom admits that it was Theo who smacked him on the arm to turn around. To come face to face with his bride, a blushing bride that was 7 months pregnant. It was a rush of a events that y/n never quite saw occuring so early into her life. Yet, the day she told Tom they were going to be parents, he asked her to marry him. Of course, y/n organised a typical wedding after she had given birth but at that very second, every bad thing she had to live through suddenly became a single speck of sand on a vast beach. A prologue to her wonderful life ahead of her.
The door swung open slightly, though the light from outside Lottie’s room was off, y/n could instantly tell who was stepping over countless dolls and plastic cars. Tom knelt at the side of his daughter’s bed, just below his wife as she softly stroked Lottie’s forehead. “You need some rest Sweetness,” he told her quietly, watching over Lottie’s snoring figure.
“I can’t” y/n stifled through a yawn. Though she greatly needed to run to her bed and pass out, she refused to leave Lottie unless she knew her daughter was absolutely deep in sleep. Tom sighed, letting his forehead hit the soft linen of the bed cover.
“You need sleep, I can’t look after the brady bunch by myself,” Tom joked. His hand came to draw soft circles on y/n’s thigh. It was nothing if not soothing to her. He could directly make out her face in the darkness, but Tom knew his wife was smiling, a low grin painted upon her fatigued face. “I’ll take this shift.”
y/n reached out for his face, finding it in seconds. Her thumb now matched the pattern on his cheek that Tom was drawing on her thigh. “We made a deal,” it was his speciality, but he never wanted it to get this bad. “You would help Theo with his Valentine’s Day gift if I could get this one to sleep.”
y/n possessed many traits that Tom adored. She was empathetic, a woman of incredible wit and intelligence, had the stamina of a bull but her stubbornness seemed to be her crowing glory. Tom knew his wife as well as he knew how to count to ten. She wasn’t leaving until absolute confirmation was handed to her. “Sweetness, I would prefer if you came to bed with me,” he tried, the approach was simple and usually it worked.
“As much as I would adore that, I’m not going anywhere with you mister,” y/n teased. Her attention focusing back on Lottie. Perhaps it was the way her eyelids seemed to betray her, closing every few seconds or if it was simply the way the mattress felt beneath her legs. Eventually though, the mixture of all of those and her husband’s head laying flat on her thighs, she began to slowly creep off the bed. The pads of her feet pressed against the floor in such delicacy, y/n doubted that she even touching it. She reached out for Tom, grasping slightly at his bare bicep as she lifted herself up.
Tom caught on to his wife’s movements and made sure that the path was completely clear of any of Lottie’s toys. Calmly, the pair of them tip-toed out. Every move halted by their daughter’s movements but eventually, the door closed and y/n was free from the little montress’s grip. y/n wishes that she was more awake, more alert because even in her half sleep dazed she could make out the tight white singlet that clung to Tom’s body. She reached out for him, it was the weakest of touchs. Yet, her hand fell on his shoulder and running up to the base of his neck. It wasn’t sexual in any form, instead they stood in the dim light in complete silence. Watching each other feel the affected of forced insomnia.
“How am I going to get up this morning,” y/n giggled as she accepted the sudden embrace from Tom. Her head finding it’s way into the same shoulder she tenderly caressed seconds ago. Tom’s fingers coiled around her forearm gently as the began to quietly walk to their bedroom. “Hopefully Meg will be around at that time,” she sighed as the soft breeze of their room hit her face. Meg was their nanny, a woman who has been employed by Tom since James was a baby. She was a sweet old thing, a cliché of the lovely old lady in fairtales.
“She will, sadly I won’t,” Tom told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they both hid themselves under the sating covers. y/n wanted to continue the conversation, she knew that Tom wouldn’t be back at home until tomorrow night and for the first time, she would be in charge of everyone but she couldn’t. As soon as her head hit the lavender scented pillow, she was out like a light. Tom just chuckled in return, pulling her into a soft embrace.
━━★✼☆｡
y/n wasn’t an idiotic woman. She has been with Tom for two and a half years; married to him for two years, she immediately knew when something didn’t feel right. As her fingers gripped the steering wheel, she peered in her rear-view mirror. It was something Tom’s bodyguards drive around in. The vehicle was large and bulky, looking like it a take down a building with minimum amount of speed. It was painted in the midnight black, even the widows seemed to be darkened. Like before, y/n recognised the model of the car to be a sister of the cars she would frequently have to ride in if she accompanied Tom anywhere, he thought posed even the slightest amount of danger. She knew that with every corner she took, the car would mimic her turns. y/n caught onto it in seconds, watching through Lottie’s car seat and Theo’s mop of hair. It didn’t help that when she called Tom’s head guard, he told her that he had followed her orders. To let her pick up her children to avoid the never-ending shock from the ensemble of 6'5 muscular men accompanying her wherever she went.
“Do you want us to do anything about it ma'am?” he asked through the car’s speaker. y/n pondered for a few seconds. While her gut was screaming at her that this was something completely out of the ordinary, if there was any ordinary being married to a Mob boss. Her mind knew that if she did say something to him now it was no doubt find its way to Tom. He would instantly assume the worst and cancel any important deal in front of him to race home. The guard’s voice pulled her out of her concentration.
“Get the house under lockdown,” she ordered, for the first time she felt truly in control but as all things it was slipping. “Do not tell my husband.”
“Ma'am, it is imperative that Mr. Holland know of this,” the guard protested. y/n had been going through quite a rough day. She was tired, overworked and constantly around wailing children. She refused to be around another. Her jaw clenched as she pulled into their street, the car still hot on her tail.
“I don’t care, Tom will not know of this,” y/n snapped, peering up for a final time but to her initial surprise that car had vanished. She had no clue where the fucker had gone. “It’s probably nothing,” she spoke quietly. The sentence was more reassurance for herself than from him, yet he had heard her, accepted her terms and hung up.
As she pulled the car into the impressively large garage, she lets her bare forehead hit top of the steering wheel. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.
“Mum,” Theo called out from the backseat, “are you alright?” The boy’s question was laced with genuine concern. It released whatever anxiety riddled grip had got a hold of y/n. She gazed up, smiling as she let all her negative thoughts leave her before turning to her three children.
“I am just really tired honey,” she replied as she exited the car and proceeded to undo Lottie’s buckled. “Not to worry, I think it is Boy’s Movie Night tonight!” Both boys cheered in unison. The afternoon went on as usual. Theo and James spent the entire time with their faces glued to the screen in front of them. Squealing every time the supposed bad guys landed flat on his ass, jumping at every occasion that they could. Even if they lived in a mansion, y/n was positive that everyone in this house could hear their playful laughter.
y/n sat next to Lottie; her curly brunette hair clipped back into two adorable pigtails. Lottie was a carbon copy of Tom. Even next to her half-brother James, Lottie seemed to possess ever physical trait of y/n’s husband. The smooth somehow flawless skin, the bouncy chestnut curls that y/n just knows will be her daughter’s statement piece when she grows up and finally the pair of chocolate eyes that gets her father weak every time, she babbles up at him. She wondered how all of her children would look like when they get old enough to make their own decisions. While James doesn’t have Tom’s colouring like Lottie does, he has this glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes. Something y/n has loves about her boys, they all share this odd ball of high-energy. Theo looks exactly like y/n, her colouring and her features. Theo’s look alikeness to his mother is something y/n feels is divine intervention. To show that, this is her son. Her baby boy and no one else’s unless she says so.
“Ma'am” Meg’s heavy Irish accent perks up. She’s standing at the windows, peering through the curtains slightly. “I think you should see this,” she advises before stepping away from the scene and running to grab Lottie from her highchair. y/n hesitantly waltzes over, she presents a cool face to her children, but she can feel her stomach crawling into her throat as she gets closer. y/n pulls the fabric back slightly, she prays that is it now in the early hours of the night and the light is off. It’s the same car, it’s now parked across the road from her house. Just outside of their camera’s visibility, the vehicle is camouflaged almost to perfection, she can still spot it. Its headlights are off and the car makes not a single sound. At first, y/n faithfully believes she is now seeing things, that her brain is so unfathomably tired it has resorted to petty tricks. That is until one of the car doors open quickly. She waits for a moment as does this figure in the car before a pair of fit hit the ground. Though it makes no clamour, it startles her. y/n doesn’t wait to meet his eyes as his head ducks under the car roof to fully meet the air. She turns around to meet Meg’s eyes, the women wear matching looks.
“Take the children into the spare room, go now,” y/n speaks softly as not to alarm her sons. Meg nods quickly, instantly holstering Lottie on her hips and shooing the boys away from the glowing TV.
She pauses until she hears the door close. It’s deafening. She turns her attention back to the scene, it’s worse than before. There’s at least 7 of them huddled around this car, pulling unknown bags from the seats. As the mystery bags hit the ground, the unknown men begin opening it. It’s filled to the brim with metal, the holsters of guns peeking through with the aid of the dim light of the streetlight. y/n refused to observe anymore, silently she alerts the guards in the house. She doesn’t even process the next second, it’s like nothing is working anymore. y/n knows what the sound is, she knows what is happening, she knows that in a matter of seconds the men have begun firing at her front landing. Killing anyone standing outside, she can feel the bullets entering their bodies.
It’s with that, y/n goes from a fast pace to sprinting. She rushes down the long halls to meet with her children. It’s feels like an eternity that she is opening doors, calling out for any of them. All the while, gunshots ring out like a bell, constant and terrible. Her phone vibrates,it send her nerves over the edge. y/n stops for a second to stare at it, Tom’s name lights up the screen. Instead of answering, her fingers lose all their function. Her phone drops from her hand and hits the floor. She wants to pick it up but her feet work against her and begin to simply pace herself away from her phone as it continues to hum against the tiles.
Finally, she reaches the room. Meg holds Lottie close to her chest, rocking the toddler back and forth as Lottie cries into Meg’s shirt. Theo and James are standing in the middle of the room. Both look like they are on their verge of tears and to be completely truthfully, so was she. Closing the door, y/n immediately wraps her arms around her sons. She feels the wet tears staining her shoulders. She feels their chests rise and fall drop as best they can.
“You boys are so brave,” she sooths, her palms rubbing circles atop their heads. Slowly, she peers up. While the gunfire continues to ring out, y/n stares at the people in the room with her. Not a single bulb is turned on, the area is pitch black, but she can still see how this if affecting the boys. How Meg clutches onto Lottie’s wailing body. “It’ll be over soon.”
“You promise,” James chokes out, he wipes his face of her blouse. y/n pressed a tender kiss to his hair. She lets a single tear escape her eyes.
“I swear handsome,” y/n tells him, but she’s not convinced by the sound of her own voice. The boys pull away from her, one of her hands reaches for their salty cheeks. “Everything will be alright, Mumma swears.”
She doesn’t want to; she wants to scream. She wants to burn the entire house to the ground. She wants to leave with her children and never come back. y/n has never felt this in her entire life. This is not only pure terror for the lives of her children but it’s uncontrollable rage. She’s being held together by a tearing material of a rubber band. Her limbs are coiled, feeling as though she has rusted in the rain. Her mind doesn’t stop, it runs as if it has never felt this wrathful freedom in its life. A million different thoughts threaten to take power, as if they should decide her next move. She doesn’t let them of course, y/n’s had practice at this, and she will not crack now.
“Meg, give me Charlotte now,” y/n’s voice is hoarse and breaking with ever vowel that drops from her lips. The old lady rushes over to y/n and hands her Lottie. The toddler instinctively wraps her arms around y/n, refusing to let go. Another 20 minutes go by, it’s torture. The air seems to wash around y/n as she clings onto her children for dear life. Quietly, she pans over to Meg. The old woman looks as if she has turned from the humble baker’s wife down the street to death herself. Their eyes lock, passing silent messages to each other.
I’m sorry, y/n pleads. She thinks if she spoke it aloud, it would travel barely above a whisper.
It’s okay, sweetheart, Meg responded. Though the woman only truly meant the first part, y/n wanted to believe that she would have used the nickname to calm her nerves. Somehow it did.
The moment lasted for only seconds. A fleeting feeling of safety was ruined by the doorknob rattling furiously. At the speed of sound, y/n had handed Lottie over to Meg and told her to hide in the bathroom with the children. y/n heard everything, the door lock behind Meg and the muffled yelling behind the door in front of y/n. She scrambled to her feet, driving her to the wide bedside table. She threw open the doors until she landed on the one thing she never believes she’s use. A small handgun. y/n didn’t quite have time to question her morals at this very second in time. y/n wrapped her fingers around the handle just as the door swung open. Tears spilled as she pointed the gun aimlessly.
“Thank god,” his familiar voice rang out. y/n sunk to her knees, the gun falling right from her fingertips. Tom rushed to her side; he didn’t know what to say to her. He knew exactly what she was feeling, he knew whatever attempt he made at explaining the horrid situation would break his poor wife even further.
y/n studied his features in the dim light of the room as he got closer to her. She had never seen him in such a state. His hair flopping all over his face, hiding whatever panic was clearly evident over his features. More specifically, y/n watched as it became clearer. A large splatter of blood across his right cheek. She fell right into his arms, finally allowing herself to stain his shirt with her burst of weeps.
━━★✼☆｡
y/n’s body was on fire. The fire was nothing but pure pain. As if bugs were nesting right under skin, desperate for a gasp of air. Even the clock ticked loudly, ever noise of the hand pressed her brain against her skull. Every joint rigid in its own specific way, damaged and tight.
“Sweetness, talk to me,” Tom soothed, using the towel to clean the final fragments of blood off his cheek. Her eyes squinted at him, waiting for him to do anything other than be his normal gentle self. y/n slid herself off the foot of their bed and walked to the closed door. Flashing images of the other room crossing her mind.
“I need to check on the kids,” she huffed. While y/n knew Meg was laying wide away on the floor of Theo’s room as all three children slept contently, she wanted to be away from him at a moment like this. She needed to not see his face. Alas, Tom’s hand gripped her wrist tightly. The touch sizzled her skin, the tension elevated for a split second.
y/n whipped around to face him; Tom felt his patience slipping from him. “y/n, be an adult,” he hissed.
Tom knew he shouldn’t be talking to her like this, but he was at his wit’s end. A candle burning to the final wax. He mentally fucked himself over when he got that stupid fucking call. Sir, your wife has informed us of an unidentified vehicle following her, it engraved itself into his mind. Tom remembers sitting at the desk, wondering if she was witnessing the same group, he had fucked over a few months ago. Deciding it could wait, Tom told them to keep his updated throughout the night. As if whatever god was up there decided to play a tortuous comedy routine with Tom, it did begin to progress. First, the car pulling up hours before his arrival. Then the major security breach and finally as they began shooting at his house, ready to slaughter anyone they found inside. Especially his family.
She watched his intently. Waiting for a further response and yet, nothing. Her anger was bubbling over. “I am an adult,” she seethed at him, her fingers unwrapping themselves from the doorknob. “I make sure that my children are safe, I make it my life’s mission to ensure that I am not the direct cause of those certain dangers I wish to keep them so far away from!”
She had ripped her hand from his grasp, this wasn’t something she was backing away from. It was something she could fight and to which she intended to do until the very end.
The little monologue broke Tom’s heart. How could she believe that he would do such a horrific thing? How could she blame him for the events that unfolded tonight? He wondered if she truly knew this was never his intention. That he never wanted his family to come under direct attack all because he made one dangerous decision.
“You don’t talk to me like that y/n,” He grumbled. The air seemed to thicken with every word, cause more distance between the spouses. It was never like this they fought like a normal couple but never with this much venom. “I don’t deserve such criticism, especially from you.”
“Why?” she pondered, she moved closer to him. Inching closer with every second. “Is it because you question my authority? Or maybe is it because I am some silly little schoolteacher who got trouble with the wrong kind of people,“ she moved closer with every word of the sentence, pushing her dangerously closer. It’s a risk she must take if she wants to feel any sort of release.
“Stop being so theatrical y/n, you endured something horrible, but that is what you signed up for when you married me,” the room climbed in temperature. Tom had half a mind to strip himself just to get closer to peace, but with y/n so close to his chest, he preferred to work on her. Tom can’t pinpoint what made his mind switch in directions. Maybe it was the ever-growing heat, or perhaps it was the indescribable feeling of almost losing your wife and mother of your children. Either way, Tom thoughts were growing darker. The need to bruise y/n’s skin seemed to be the only thing he could really think about. “You wanted this,” he grunted, closing in on her. “Sweetness, you agreed to this lifestyle as soon as you sunk your sweet cunt onto me.”
The vulgarity of his words caught her off guard. Her breath stopped halfway when her back almost slammed into the wall. She wasn’t giving in so easily, even if the heat from her body had swiftly travelled to the valley between her thighs. y/n turned her head away from him in any desperation to not look at him. Unfortunately, Tom caught her actions as if he knew her every move. His fingers pressed against her chin to bring her eyes back to him. Tom was worried for an instant that she would truly be too furious with him to play into his game. Luckily, her eyes betrayed her. The big doe eyes of her stared up at him, pleaded to be fucked like an animal. Slammed into until all of her rage had slipped from her conscious.
“Screw yourself Tom,” she coughed out. She was playing along, y/n knew exactly where this was heading. A tender kiss was placed upon her lips, while the action itself was soft, nothing about the kiss genuinely was. It was the ultimate puzzle piece for him.
"You want to speak to me like a bitch,” Tom chuckled, “you’ll get fucked like a bitch.” He kicked the back of her knees harshly, causing her to meet with the floor. “On your knees and hands behind your back.” She wanted to protest, she wanted to act out the little brat but like most things, her arms instinctively pulled themselves behind her. “Now, I sincerely hope I don’t have to punish you further sweetness,” Tom soothed as he swiftly undid the buckle of his jeans, discarding the items of clothing across the room. His throbbing cock hit the base of his stomach with a soft slap. y/n bit her lip in instinct, it had been a while, and did she wholly miss this glorious scene in front of her.
y/n leaned forward and dragged her tongue from the base of him until her lips met with the beads of pre-cum drenching him. Slowly but surely, she wrapped her lips around him. Letting him enjoy the wet cavern of her mouth for a short time. He threw his head back in unison with a beautifully quiet moan. Her eyes never left him, as she bobbed her head gradually. If she was on her knees unable to reach out and touch him, she would at least make it fun for her. y/n only quickened her pace if their line of focus connected. As soon as Tom stared directly into her eyes, she would start her movements but if he turned away to enjoy the moment, everything would stop. It went like this before Tom had quite enough of it all. Without uttering a single word, Tom wrangle his hands into her soft hair and thrusted right up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat roughly. She gagged loudly, making an awful sound as she attempted to regain her position. He pulled away from her, only to slam right back into her mouth. Unlike her plan beforehand, as he face fucked her, his pace begins to speed up.
y/n was now struggling to hold back her ragged gags as small tears slid out of her eyes. “Pretty girl, all worked out from my cock in your mouth huh?” Tom teased as he relished in the sounds of her cacophony of broken breaths. Just as quickly as he began, he pulled away from her complete. He dropped out of her mouth with a small pop and a trail of saliva that landed on the tops of her breasts. “Get up,” to which she happily obliged. As soon as y/n had regained her footing, Tom’s hands had completely destroyed her pants. The loose skirt was now in two pieces at her feet, along with her favourite pair of panties. Unfortunately, she didn’t even get a second to scold him before he spun her around and slammed her chest against the wall. The pain excited her, it coursed through her torso and down into her legs, causing them to spasm slightly.
Tom looked at her, in the soft moonlight she was glowing. Ass facing him, tits pressed up against the wall. Complete ready for him. Tom gave her a small kiss on her shoulder, this time it truly was meant to be tender but in typical Tom fashion. As soon as his lips left her skin, Tom plunged right up into her. His hand covering her surprised squeal. God did he miss this. Filling her tight pussy right up to the brim. Even after everything they had been through, she still fit him like a glove. Hugged him so perfectly, Tom was worried he was shot his load right into her at this very moment. Sadly, he pushed the thought away and began rocking into her; his hand still covered over her mouth.
y/n could feel every inch of his like this. She could feel just how hard he was ramming into her cunt. Her nails gripped onto the wall in front of her as she whimpered into the palm of his hand. With every snap of his hips, her worries seemed to really melt away. All the tension built up in her body being oiled as he parted her legs to reach a nook in her that she thought impossible. “Tommy, f—fuck, oh my god,” it was incoherent garble. Nonsense talk as her eyes rolled back into her head for a few seconds. His head found the valley of her neck, peppering light kisses a major difference to the rough pace he had adopted.
“What is it sweetness,” Tom gasped right into her ear. The hot air tickling her skin. His other hand gripped callously at her hip, bruising the delicate skin under his fingers. “Come on tell me,” Tom was struggling to keep himself in check. The pure sound of skin against skin as he fucked her ass filled the air, pushing him closer to ecstasy. His hand pulled away from her lips, an immediately low moan tumbled from her lips. y/n waited for her body to response to anything, everything thrown out the window every time his dick hit her perfect spot inside of her.
“Har—harder,” she strained through strings of vulgarities and chants of his name. Tom smirked at her, she caught it before he pulled away from her. Tom started to slow his movements, observing how she swallowed him whole every time he thrusted into her tight hole.
“You really want it harder sweetness?” Tom asked, he was just as desperate for a release as she was. y/n nodded her head furiously, words seeming to fail her at this instance. “Turn around,” he ordered, she swivelled around to face him. Her once neat hair now a mess of pleasure tugged strains. Her lids fluttering shut and her cheeks flushed. She looked like a Greek statue. Tom bent and lifted her over his shoulders, earning a tiny giggle from his huffing wife above him. He frantically sprinted over to their bed and promptly chucked her on it. The force knocking a bit of wind out of her.
In a flash of actions, her face had been pressing into the mattress and her ass high up in air. Tom gave it a light smack before lining up and pounding right into her. Both of them let out a soft line of curses. It had never been this intense in their entire relationship.
The room was silent. Nothing could be heard outside but inside was a different idea. Tom brought her hips down roughly onto him, matching his tattered speed. y/n’s breaths were muffled by the cover of the blanks, her hands desperate for anything to latch onto for support as he fucks her relentlessly. It a beautiful mixture of sounds. Nothing like the soft breaths and gasps on a normal night. While those still as amazing as now, this was pure unfiltered animalistic need. No feelings, just a fantastic way to blow off incredible tense steam. Tom usually adored staring at her as her face scrunched up in pleasure but something about how every time his cock rammed up into her, everything moved with his thrusts. It was memorising, as if a painting had been brought to life. y/n had lost track of time during this, so focused on the way he was able to stretch her so wide that she had completely forgot how long she had been lying here. She didn’t dwell on it for too long before the divine familiar feeling presented itself to her, dwelling at the pit of her stomach.
“Go faster, I’m going t—to come,” she pleaded, lifting her head up for only a moment before diving right back into her muffled screams. Tom growled at this, picking up his already forceful speed. While he tried, his thrusts became sloppy and jagged.
“Come with me sweetness,” he whispered to her, his fingered rubbing cathartic circles on her sensitive clit. The sensation on her bud rupturing another last piece of sanity in her body.
With a final thrust, both y/n and Tom came. A relief as both almost shouted out in absolute ecstasy, their juices mixing together in a beautiful sense of the terms. y/n’s toes curled as she felt it all, every little piece of tension, anger and lust all combine and explode inside of her. Tom wasn’t even the slightest but worried as he had been before this had begun. His sweaty forehead lay against her spine, as his wife attempted to catch her breath. Slowly he pulled out of her, his cum leaking out of her. A sight he would love to have burned into his vision for the rest of his life.
“Feel better?” Tom asked her as he threw himself next to her. y/n turned to face him and for the first time that night an honest grin appeared on her face. A grin given to her by whatever relief she had received moments before.
pairing:single dad!mob!tom holland x single mum!reader
words:9k (oh god, i’m so sorry)
warnings:SMUT, swearing, praise kink, oral (female recieving), slight violence, mentions of verbal abuse/ degration & rough sex if you squint
summary: Theo y/l/n and James Holland are the best friends that only 8-year-olds can get, their parents though are a little less happy with their lives. For James’ dad; Mob-King Tom, he can’t seem to catch cupid’s arrow. Better yet, he refused to even let the stupid cherub let it fly free. For Theo’s mum; y/n, it’s her confidence that shakes her love life until there’s nothing there. So it was meant to be.
a/n:at first i hated this fic (i still sort of hate the first part) but i think it’s really grown on me :)
y/n smiled as she waved off the last group of kids, the small children giving her tight hugs before running off to their parents. She truly loved her job; she couldn’t ask for anything other than the life she has right now but something has always been devoid. Alas, being a primary school teacher with an 8-year-old son can keep you busy enough to forget about your past problems.
“Muuum,” Theo dragged on as he danced around one desk lazily, “when are we going home, I’ve got some cartoons to watch,” he said snappily, y/n debated on whether she should call her son out on his attitude.
“Soon, you little devil,” y/n replied, still happily dismissing her students. Seeing as most of the kids had gone or having a chat with their parents, y/n took that as a sign to pack up her classroom.
“I think Molly has a crush on me,” Theo told y/n with a wide grin on his face. She stared up at him with a matching smile.
“Really, how do you know that?” y/n asked cheekily, she waited for her son’s answer but only got a shrug and a sigh. She chestily laughed as she started to pack up her bag. “That’s not an answer little man!”
“Ask James, he agrees with me,” Theo defended.
“You two have really been making a ruckus in my classroom, I should probably split you two up,” y/n falsely threatened as she slipped on a small touch up of her pale red lip gloss.
Theo immediately ran to the front of her desk with sad eyes, “please don’t mum, we’ll be extra good,” Theo lifted his pinky finger to wave in her face, “I pinky promise.”
y/n stared down and captured his tiny finger with hers, sealing the deal. As she grabbed the rest of her things from underneath her desk, she heard the small pitter patter of an extra pair of feet.
“Hi, Ms.y/l/n” a soft worried voice called out, y/n lifted her head to see James Holland with his bottom lip trembling and his eyes filling with hot tears not daring to spill over. y/n almost jumped over the desk to comfort the young boy.
“Oh James, what’s the matter?” she asked gently as she gently wiped the liquid from his cheeks.
“I was supposed to-to be picked up-p a long t-t-time ago,” James told her through stifled sobs. y/n felt her heart shatter with absolute sadness for this little boy. It had been an hour since school ended, his parents must be late. “I was wondering if I could go home with you until my dad or his assistant can come and get me.”
y/n knew that James’s dad did some shady business. She wasn’t dumb; she picked up on everything. Whenever his so-called assistant would come to get James she would always ask what he did to dress so sharply and the blonde would constantly have a different answer or sometimes he would deflect the question altogether. She also noticed the gun that lay hidden underneath his jacket and the small pocket knives around his waist. She never thought too much about it because James was the sweetest kid on the planet and he made Theo thrilled, she would not take that away from him by alerting the police to a threat that she had nothing but a hunch about.
Theo burst into a roar of excited cheers as soon as the sentence fell off James’s lips. y/n shushed her son before turning back to James. “As much as both of us would love that, you can’t come home with us without your dad’s permission.”
“Can’t you just call him?” James exclaimed as he corked an eyebrow at her, as small blush arose on her cheeks; sometimes she felt dumber than the kids. As school policy goes, y/n must have a small binder with all the parents’ contacts in case of emergencies.
“Great idea,” she complimented as she quickly went to make the phone call. Her finger skimmed around the book, finding the last name Holland and the first name Tom underneath James’s page. She had heard that name before she just can identify where. Either way, she rang and someone answered after a few rings.
“Hello?” a male voice called out.
“Hi, this is Ms. y/l/n,” y/n told him sweetly. “I have James here saying that nobody has picked him up yet,” she told him.
“Fuck, I knew I forgot something!” the voice shouted, y/n was 99% sure the boys could hear it, “shit, Tom will gut me like a fish,” the man sounded worried and flustered with panic and fear.
“Wait, who am I exactly talking to?” she pondered.
“Harrison, I’m Tom’s assistant.”Harrison rolled the assistant slowly. An obvious diversion that she wasn’t idiotic enough to fall for.
“Well, if it makes any difference, Theo and James have just made plans for James to come home with myself and Theo,” she spoke quietly. “Would that be okay?”
The line was silent for a second or two before Harrison quickly responded, “Yes that will be fine, someone will pick him up around 6,” he snapped at her before cutting off the line abruptly.
y/n stared at her phone for a moment before she stared at the boys with a wide gleam. “You’re coming home with us James and its homemade pizza for dinner tonight!”
With that, the pair of boys rejoiced and the three of them walked out of the classroom and towards the exit.
━━★✼☆｡
Tom sat in his impressively large chair, his eyes never leaving the clock that lay between photos of his family and his son James. He had been in meetings all day with people that pissed him the fuck off. All Tom had been looking forward to is seeing his son and spending his time playing with James. But yet, it had been an hour since he should have been out of school, meaning he should have been home 20 minutes ago. There as a few harsh knocks, Tom instantly knew who it was.
“Got some news mate,” Harrison told him before he had even entered the room.
Tom let his head lean back and a hoarse groan slips out, “it better be good otherwise, I don’t want to fucking hear it,” Tom spat, “I’ve been in meetings all day, just wanna see my son.”
“About that.” Harrison trailed off. Tom felt his heart stop. He instantly rushed over to Harrison’s side. “I forgot to pick James up from school today and-”
“You absolute dumbass!” Tom roared. “Other Mob bosses know who he is. I can’t have him walking the school ground by himself he’ll get bloody kidnapped!” Tom started to ramble, he hardly ever did such an infantile act. He hadn’t rambled since James was left on his doorstep with a note saying he was Tom’s son and that was eight years ago!
Tom couldn’t help but feel guilt rack his body, a million thoughts ran through his mind and he felt as if he was on the verge of tears, but he refuses to let even one go. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and almost sprinted towards Harrison. His hands clasped around Harrison’s collar and brought him in so fast, Harrison’s knees buckled at the force and skidded across the hard floor. “If you didn’t pick him up, where the fuck is he?”
Tom watched as Harrison gulped loudly. Tom hated getting violent with Harrison, but with the safety of his son. Tom would mow downfield of people if it meant James was alive.
“He is with his teacher and her son. She said that I have to pick him up later,” Harrison told him weepily. Tom didn’t know if it relieved him to know that his son was with good hands with his teacher, who Tom had only heard good things about from Harrison or that his right-hand man let his son go off with a woman Tom has never met. “Listen, she said they are making homemade pizza and that we are welcome to join her when I go pick James up.”
“Hm, pick him up when it is necessary,” Tom grunted as he walked off, suddenly much calmer than he was before. Harrison regained his composure and ran to Tom’s side.
“No, I think you should go pick him up,” Harrison told him. Coming from anyone else, Tom would have their tongue cut out, but Tom felt obliged to let it slide after his recent outburst at Harrison. “I think it would be good for James to see his own father come pick him up for once and it wouldn’t hurt to meet Ms. y/l/n,” Harrison spoke the last part with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Before you scheme and manipulate your way into making me do something, you know I don’t want any woman taking advantage of me- again,” Tom hated saying that sentence, he hated giving James’s mother the satisfaction that she broke the heart of the world’s hardest mobster. That a dancer from a strip club he owned broke the one heart that was never meant to; his. Tom took it as a sign that love wasn’t in his card, only single parenthood. Though deep down, Tom wanted someone else, he didn’t want to sleep around with expensive strippers and high-end prostitutes for the rest of his life, he would not die with that being his greatest achievement in the sex department. He’d never admit that to a single soul.
“Come on, get back on the horse,” Harrison told him gleefully, “She’s a nice woman and you’ve always complained that all the girlfriends you’ve had since James have hated children, well she works with your son almost every day. There’s a fucking jackpot right in front of you, mate.”
Tom groaned in disapproval, “How do you even know she’s single, she got an 8-year-old son, she’s married” he sighed
“You have an eight-year-old and you aren’t fucking married you twat,” Harrison scoffed, “plus I’ve never seen a ring on that finger,” he held up his ringer finger and swirling it in his face.
“I don’t want to do this anymore, Harrison,” Tom complained as he smacked Harrison hand away, “I think it’s time to give up, my schedule is too busy, I can barely see my own fucking son!” Tom called out as he rested his hands on his hair, “How can I sustain an actual relationship?”
Harrison said nothing but stared at his best friend. To Harrison, Tom looked flustered, angry and tense. Harrison knew that Tom blamed only himself for the misfortunes in his life, even though all the shit that was happening to him wasn’t his fault at all.
Tom could see Harrison was pondering at him. He hated it. “If I do this, will you give it a fucking rest,” Tom compromised. Harrison looked at him smugly.
━━★✼☆｡
y/n stood at the messy benches of her kitchen, shredded cheese fell everywhere and a three quarterly cut pepperoni stick was about to fall off. A warm and delicious smell over the house from the full oven; it was her favourite thing. Currently, y/n was finely chopping basil and rosemary while the two boys sat at the island table, flour and sauce almost covered the entire table and the power creates a ring around the boys.
“Now, Theo do you want to tell James how to lay the pepperoni to make sure it doesn’t get all soggy,” y/n asked him sweetly, trusting him enough to not have to turn around completely.
“Yesmum!” Theo called out as if she wasn’t in the same room. She chuckled to herself before she dumped the herbs into a bowl and came over to the table, sitting on one of the free chairs.
y/n watched as Theo taught James the perfect placing of pepperoni on the spare pizza. It was if y/n intrigue of James’s father had hit an all-time high as she stared at the young boy. Before she taught James, she remembers hearing a lot of rumours about James’s father from the other teachers and even other mothers about how he was mysterious and them handsome. She used to giggle at the rumours; she supposed that some lonely suburban housewives concocted the rumours, that they had nothing better to do than lust after the young bachelor because their husbands can find the g-spot.
But now that she is teaching James, the rumours seem to come alive the longer she knows the boy. She can’t help but fall into the trap of her primal curiosity because of a stranger she’s never even met and that very stranger could deal with a shady past or worse a shady present.
“So, James, how your dad?” y/n asked innocently. James stopped placing the toppings to talk to her (much to Theo’s disapproval).
“Oh, he’s awesome, I don’t get to see him a lot but when I do it’s amazing,” James squealed happily. y/n cocked her eyebrow at the boy.
“What do you mean, you don’t get to see him a lot’, doesn’t your dad pick you up from school every day,” y/n pressed, she knew she shouldn’t be asking him these types of questions but she couldn’t help it and James seemed happy enough to answer.
“My dad partner picks me up, his name’s Harrison, and he’s the best,” James smiled widely as Theo tried to get him to pay attention.
“So, what does your dad do?” y/n queered again, genuinely interested in James’ answer. The little boy scratched his head a bit before shrugging his shoulders in confusion, y/n laughed sweetly. “You know how I work as your teacher-”
“And you’re the best!” James cut her off suddenly.
“Thank you, but what does your dad do during the day,” she spoke quietly but it appeared James got the memo.
“My dad does deals with people where he shouts at them and sometimes, I see this icky dark red stuff on him, but dad just tells me it’s just paint,” James replied sweetly unaware of y/n shocked face. Sure, she had her doubts and suspicions, but she never expected them to be true. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She has the son of Tom fucking Holland in her house, likely without his knowledge. She’d be lucky if Tom leaves her bloody and bruised. y/n didn’t want to believe that this angelic and adorable boy has the world’s most feared mobster has a father. How the fuck did she not notice the queue with all the bodyguards that come along to pickup time, the expensive stuff that he brings to class and why Harrison is always wearing a very expensive suit just to bring an eight-year-old back home.
“We’re done, ma,” Theo called her out of her anxiety-driven haze. She smiled sheepishly as she took the pizzas from the boys and put them in the oven. “Are you okay, mum?” Theo asked again as he crawled off the chair and went to throw the scraps in the bin.
“Yes sweetheart,” y/n replied shakily. What was she going to say to him, how was she going to explain, how is she going to keep her son safe, what if she-
Ding!
The doorbell rang, the sound almost deafened her. y/n steadied her nerves and walked over to open the door. Outside stood two bulky 6'4" men and a nicely dressed one in the middle. For some odd reason, y/n felt her cheeks heat and her heart rate pick up. The messily pushed back brown curls seemed to fall perfectly in place and frame his face. Massive diamond rings laced his fingers as he slightly tapped at his wrist, that she might add was decorated stunningly with pronounced veins that made her weak.
“Um, welcome,” y/n spoke quietly, the man in the middle (who she assumed was Tom) stared at her darkly before stepping inside. The warm lighting of her hallway seemed to illuminate Tom’s features y/n noticed the sharp jaw, and she was just able to make out his dark brown eyes underneath the Versace sunglasses. “Hi, you m-must be James’s dad, I’m Theo’s mum; y/n,” she extended her hand to meet his.
Since she opened the door, entrancement seemed to flow through him. Sure, it wasn’t romantically at first, but the woman surely intrigued him. She had her hair tucked behind her slightly sauced ears and behind a flour-covered apron seemed to be a tight-fitting red pin-up dress, which he compliments shows off her curves nicely. Tom felt like he had to smile at her, not in a joking way but in a way that he couldn’t explain. In a way that he had to smile when he saw Tessa trip over her own feet. It was adorable; she was adorable.
When he heard her speak, it felt like a breath of fresh air had hit him. He felt as if he was in his childhood home again and she was the beautiful nanny Tom would have had a crush on. Tom felt instantly out of place when he walked in. He was so used to the dark setting and furniture of his massive mansion. He was so used to walking the long empty halls and going to bed in a vacantly giant room. Now though, her home felt so cosy. The walls were tight enough to feel warm but wide enough to not squeeze you. The rooms seemed busy with colours and clothes and her kitchen was small but still seemed homey.
In an act of complete defiance to himself, Tom thought he could live here if he wanted, and he wanted to. It was so different from his regularly scheduled life, her home, her arrangement and even y/n herself made Tom feel so out of place that he had to give her all his undying attention as if she was a magnet of everything Tom needed to balance his life. What the fuck is going on with him? So he snapped himself out of it.
“Where’s my son,” Tom asked her. He tried not to sound like a total dick, but it was hard not to. Tom felt worse when he saw y/n flinch slightly after he snapped, “I’m sorry,” Tom has never apologised to anyone other than his son, he has to get his shit together quickly.
“Oh no, it’s okay,” y/n smiled warmly, the apology from the mobster made her feel a little better about her situation. “James is hanging out with Theo, you’re welcome to stay if you’d like,” she invited. Tom felt like he had to stay, and it didn’t help that when James saw him in the hallway, he started to cry and whine.
Tom immediately ran to his side, but James pushed him away and hugged Theo, which he happily reciprocated.
“No, I’m not going, you can’t make me!” James yelled furiously as he turned his back to his father. Tom sighed loudly. He bent down and placed his hand against James’s back.
“Come on, little man, I don’t want to intrude,” Tom explained sweetly, his hand rubbing small circles. y/n didn’t know a man such as Tom Holland could speak that softly and sweetly; it made her want to swoon.
“He’s not in-intruding Mr Holland,” Theo told her quietly. Tom noticed the boy had stumbled over the hard word. He couldn’t help but admit defeat and regained his composure.
“Harrison told me you were making pizzas, it’s been a while since I’ve had some well at least homemade ones,” Tom announced loudly, “so I guess we are staying.”
The two boys rejoice before they made their way back to the TV and left Tom and y/n by themselves. y/n awkwardly made her way to the kitchen, and Tom dismissed the two bodyguards behind him and happily followed her.
As he walked down the hallway, he took slight notice of the different photos that hung on the walls. Most of them were of Theo, one had him in a karate uniform holding a trophy and a toothy smile while another had a photo of y/n and Theo at the park. Tom couldn’t help but smile at them. Once more did he have the feeling of need for all of this to be in his life, he wanted more, correction he needed more. He squeezed through her slim doorway and stumbled into y/n’s endearingly kitchen.
He had never seen a mess like her kitchen; he saw flour on the floor and sauce on the cupboards. Tom couldn’t help but let a small chuckle escape his lips as he sat opposite her.
Tom wasn’t an idiot. He could see how scared he was making her just by sitting closer to her. y/n on the other end of the table was almost shitting herself, she could feel her throat becoming dry and tried her best to avoid connecting their eyes even if she desperately wanted another peek at his warm brown eyes.
Tom stared at her with guilt racking his body, “I will not hurt you,” Tom told her gently and for some odd reason, he fought back the urge to hold her trembling hand as he spoke. y/n didn’t believe him, she knew deep down that this is what he says to his victims before he blows their fucking brains out, until “I promise.” Tom had even surprised himself with his words. He has promised nothing other than when he promised his son he could ice-cream for dinner one night, Tom wasn’t sure what was washing over him but worse he didn’t know if he liked the feeling or not.
Tom waited for her response. He waited for y/n to give him any cue to tell him she felt safe around him. Finally, y/n lifted her eyes to meet his. Tom hadn’t really gotten a good look at the door. Her eyes matched her whole persona, it almost entranced him. They were young but filled with such wisdom and knowledge; he didn’t know what to do. It was an obvious y/ec, but it was like he was experiencing the colour for the first time in his 27 year life.
y/n slowly lifted her eyes to meet his and Tom’s heart jumped into his throat. Never has a woman had this effect on him; it addicted him. Tom spotted a faint smile on her sauce, dusted lips and couldn’t help but return the favour. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be this cold towards you,” she spoke softly.
“Oh, it’s fine. I get it all the time,” Tom responded with a small giggle.
“That’s awful,” y/n immediately protested, her full attention on him.
“What I do is awful sweetheart, it comes with the job,” he told her as he leaned back in his chair. y/n pulled back, how could she be so dumb?
Tom noticed her sudden shift in mood and cleared the air, “I don’t mean to pry but is Theo’s father around, I didn’t notice him in any of the photos,” Tom asked awkwardly, he genuinely wanted to know but immediately realised his mistake, “or is that not a talking topic?”
“No, it’s okay,” y/n responded with a light chuckle, something Tom desperately wanted to hear more of, “Theo’s dad and I split badly and I haven’t spoken to him in years,” the memory still haunts y/n but she could only let fragmented pieces out at a time, “Theo has never met his father and I intend on keeping it that way.”
Tom’s brain started to concoct a sadly romantic fairy tale with both of them but he quickly scolded himself. Suddenly, y/n perked up. She jumped from the table, took one pizza out of the oven, and started to cut it.
“What about you?” y/n asked with her back turned.
“What about me?” Tom responded, nobody has ever asked him that.
“A good-looking man like you with a son has to be married,” y/n exclaimed before placing a pizza in front of them both and calling for the boys, giving them their pizza.
“Sadly, no, I’m not married,” Tom chuckled as he picked up a piece. “I had James with his mother on a whim I guess.” Tom saw y/n cocked her eyebrow in confusion. “That’s all I’m letting out.” Tom crossed his arms and leaned away.
y/n though leaned in and batted her eyelashes, “No, you got me intrigued,” y/n whined. “If you tell me, I will tell you my backstory the next time we meet.”
“We’re going to meet again?” Tom smirked widely, suddenly pulled into her spell. Tom saw the heat rise to her cheeks and her face scrunch up as she tried to rack her brain for a proper answer. She was gorgeous; he wanted to stare at her face for all eternity.
“O-of course,” she stuttered, tripping over her own tongue suddenly. She doesn’t know why she’s acting like this. Sure he’s a godly handsome man that is ticking all of her boxes in a matter of moments but her brain seems to keep forgetting that she’s sitting just a few feet away from the King of the English Mafia. A man who could kill her in a second, still she couldn’t help the primal attraction that was cursing through her.
Tom held his hand out to her. “All right darling, it’s a deal,” he spoke lowly. Any logical person would have kept their hand to themselves. Any reasonable educated person would not raise their hand and shake Tom’s. y/n was a logical and educated woman, but not with Tom around. So she took his hand in hers and shook slowly.
“Jame’s was- how do I say this? Not planned.” Tom sighed as he played with the pizza in front of him. “When I first got control over the Mafia. I bought this strip club just down the street. I used to go in there almost every night. I thought if I went in it would make me feel like a true Mafia King. The Mafia King who sleeps with whoever he wants whenever he wants, but I guess I am more of a romantic than I thought. There was this girl, she was interesting, and I found her mesmerising from the second I saw her. So like an idiot I started to see her only, I bought her things, I gave her safety and let her decide in the Mob. I guess one night I forgot to put on a condom and she left me the very next night. Nine months later, James was wailing on my doorstep with a small note saying ‘I am so sorry, he’s yours and I can’t look after him’, I still remember the words on that stupid fucking note,” Tom felt his voice crack, he peered over to James who was eating his pizza and pretending to fight the bad guys on the T.V, “I adore my son with every fibre in my being but I just wish things were a little different.”
Tom swivelled around and saw y/n almost in tears, “I’m sorry,” y/n snapped out of her emotional haze and started to wipe away some tears, “I don’t know what came over me.”
“That’s all right, my mum was in tears for days after James arrived.” Tom stared down, remembering the feelings of the room on that day, “happy tears.”
y/n felt an overwhelming surge of emotion hit her like a truck. She has heard no one talk with such passion. “Wow, that’s um-” she blushed, “quite a story.”
Tom gave her a weak smile. He noticed the blush that bubbled to the surface of his cheeks. Tom noticed a lot of other things while she sat opposite him. He noticed the small dimples that would peak out if she smiled. He noticed the freckles that perfectly sprinkled her skin. He was sure that if he sat here for long enough, he could count every one of them.
“Is there something on my face?” y/n’s concerned voice snapped him out of his lovesick haze. Tom shook his head slightly before y/n took the back of her hand to wipe the non-existing grime off her cheek only to smear sauce all over her.
“Well, now there is,” Tom laughed before he leaned over and wiped the sauce with his napkin. y/n came closer to help him reach her but in the process only pushed her cleavage up, causing Tom’s chair to slide out from under him. Their faces were so close, y/n felt the warmth from Tom’s body wafting and swirling around her as if he was entrancing her. Problem was, she was fully under his spell now.
“Are you going to kiss my dad?” James ecstatic voice called out abruptly. y/n almost fell off her chair just from the pair eyes. Theo was standing just behind James with a smile that matched his friend as they watched their parents compose themselves.
Tom tried to piece an answer to give his son while still leaving his options open with y/n. “None of your business little man,” Tom faked growled as he tickled James and Theo’s bellies, causing them to run off squealing with excitement.
Tom turned around to face her, the faint glow of the kitchen made y/n look like an angel. He felt overwhelming an urge to fall to his knees and pray to her, but he slid it to back of his mind. Hoping that maybe he could do it soon.
They talked for what seemed like a second but in reality; they had been talking for an hour. Tom would give every cent away just to keep hearing her sweet-like honey voice. y/n as well couldn’t get enough of him, the more she allowed herself to open up to him the more she seemed to love his company. He was intelligent, well-spoken and off the record; he was so goddamn attractive. y/n believes she was to go to the nearest church just for having him near her. Still, he made her feel safe. He made her feel something that she hasn’t felt since Theo’s father left her. It scared her. Her heart picked up and her brain started to overwork itself. He was just humouring her; he would leave her in a heartbeat; he’s got rows of women begging to sleep with him, why would he want her?
“Oh god, w-would you look at the t-time,” y/n stuttered as she rushed to get him out of the house before she broke down in tears. y/n jumped out of her chair and almost threw the plates into the sink.
Tom stood up in a panic. He was having a wonderful time with her, why was she so eager to get herself alone?
“It’s only a quarter to ten,” Tom chuckled as he checked the watch on his wrist. y/n didn’t want to make him leave. If it were up to her, she would let the kids’ sleepover and pull him into her sheets as fast as possible but her subconscious had other plans.
“I’m sure the King of The Mafia has a busy schedule,” she replied as she ran to get the boys’ plates and get them back to the kitchen. She was right, Tom did have a lot happening tomorrow. He was most likely going to get his hands dirty. He kept his mouth shut on that remembrance.
“Well, how about you come over to mine tomorrow night,” Tom suggested. y/n stood dead in her tracks. “I need to repay you for this wonderful night.” A blush formed on her cheeks.
She sighed and before she could even let a single syllable out-, “We would love to Mr. Holland!” Theo’s voice shot up. His head appeared just behind her with a straight smile. Tom immediately matched Theo’s, knowing y/n couldn’t refuse the two of them.
“Yes, we would love to and we will-” y/n head dropped, “and we will be there.”
Tom let himself fist bump the air as he went to get James off the couch. “How’s 9:30 sound, I have some stuff to deal with beforehand?”
“Sounds g-great,” y/n sighed. Tom quickly pecked her cheek as he went for the door. y/n turned to him in disbelief.
“Can’t wait angel,” Tom whispered just before he closed the door. Jesus Christ, he would be the death of her.
“He seems like a nice guy,” Theo blank voice rang out. He leaned up against the back of the couch as he raised his eyebrows at y/n suggestively. she gave him a light smack on his arm.
━━★✼☆｡
Tom sat in his chair. The cloud of smoke and the sounds of ragged panting wafted over the room. Percy’s head drooped low as he waited.
“Where’s your fucking brother Percy?” Tom asked non-nonchalantly. His eyes never wavered off the man.
“Like I told you buffoons before,” Percy lifted his head weakly, “I have no clue where my crackhead brother is,” Tom glimpsed his prize. Percy’s sweaty hair stuck to his head, the crusted blood started to fall from the gash on eyebrow onto his bound feet. Percy stared at him with one eye open; all he could achieve. Tom smiled gleefully.
“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you little shithead!” Tom roared. His hands slammed down on the desk. Everyone to jump. Tom paced around to lean on the front of his marble desk. “I have some very important people coming in about-” Tom glanced at his watch, “10 minutes.”
“I will not rat my own fucking brother out,” Percy responded defiantly. Tom’s patience was thinning with every tick of the clock.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Percy,” Tom faked a smile, “not tonight at least. So you better make this quicker than me taking a fucking piss.” One of his men pulled Percy’s hair back, “Where is you goddamn brother.”
Percy felt the barrel of Tom’s gun roughly shoved up against his temple. He fought back a tear. “Columbia, trying to smuggle your drugs into Ecuador,” Percy revealed.
The door swung open to reveal a completely un-phased Harrison. “They’re here.”
Tom immediately straightened up. “Perfect Timing!” Tom started to his men, “get rid of him.” As his men dragged Percy out of his office. Tom straightened his coat as wiped off the dried blood on his chin. Harrison chuckled lightly before Tom ran out.
“They’re in the upstairs hallway,” Harrison called out, but Tom was already too far gone.
The massive painting loomed over y/n. She had completely forgotten how powerful Tom was, the matter that Tom commanded respect had slipped her mind. He stood in a black suit. Like something straight out a mobster movie. she giggled to herself at that thought.
“I begged my mother not to have me painted, but she insisted,” Tom called out to her. y/n jumped at his voice but softened when she saw him approaching in the same outfit as the portrait.
“Well I think you look devilishly handsome,” y/n responded with a wide smile, a smile that made Tom’s heart flutter. As he got closer, he noticed the absence of a certain 8-year-old.
“Where’s the munchkin?” he asked as he searched around her.
“He’s upstairs with James. He took Theo’s hand and ran off as soon as we stepped into the door,” she laughed. Tom couldn’t help but smile along with her. He wondered if she let this side of her out often. Genuinely giddy and joyous. “Do you look at most women like this?” She broke his concentration. y/n stood there with her eyebrow quirked and a smirk plastered on her face. Tom begged whatever god was up there to allow him just a single kiss.
“Only to you, angel,” Tom responded, his pearly white teeth shining through a wide smile. y/n’s cheeks flustered and her whole face glowed red. He was pushing all of her buttons, wasn’t he?
“Come upstairs, I want to show you something,” Tom exclaimed as he captured y/n’s hand within his. Tom led her up a small flight of stairs and into a large room. The dim bedroom had red plastered everywhere. The carpet was a soft red velvet and the sheet; a luxurious red and black silk. Hell even the walls were painted with a deep maroon. y/n looked over to him with shock. “Dont worry sweetheart, the surprise is outside,” Tom chuckled before his calloused hand landed on the small of her back nudging her softly. y/n’s breath hitched into the back of her throat.
y/n pushed the glass doors. The dense forest of trees sparkled in the bright moonlight. The faint glow of London’s lights dimmed in the background. She knew this might not have been the most aesthetically pleasing view, but it felt more than it looked. The safety and security of the view made her swoon. "Is this a date, Mr. Holland?“ y/n smirked as she sat down in the glass chair.
Tom had never heard his last name sound so sweet.
"Only if you want it to be Ms. y/l/n,” he responded, quickly trying to conceal his blush.
She stared out for a moment. y/n didn’t know why, but she felt like a shy teenager again. A girl sitting next to a hot guy who has no real interest in her. It was nostalgic in some sick way.
They talked for hours. Tom couldn’t get enough of her. It was like she was some beautiful drug. A drug so addictive, he’s hooked after one night. Every time a laugh surpassed her soft lips, Tom can’t help but let his heart flutter. She, too, was quite enjoying herself. y/n let her walls down slowly but surely. The more he talked, the more she leaned. The more she felt as though this was fate. That though was a juvenile thing to even fathom. So y/n wondered what her life would have been if she met Tom before her ex. Would she be happy or would she still be silently crying to herself to make sure Theo didn’t hear even a peep.
A curt knock at the door interrupted them. A middle age woman peeked her head in.
“They’re both in bed,” she spoke happily. “It took a while to get Theo off to sleep though.”
y/n giggled, “I’m not surprised.”
Tom stared at her for a moment, imagining that Theo and James were their sons, and she was his wife who always seemed to amaze him. Maybe in the near future, he thought to himself.
“Thank you Ms Smith,” Tom smiled warmly at her, y/n looked over to him in childlike shock.
“You have a nanny!” y/n poked Tom in his bicep. He gently swatted her finger away.
“Less about me, angel,” Tom sighed. “Now, we had a deal,” Tom’s eyebrow cocked, and a smirk filled his face.
y/n smiled weakly at him. I will need a shit ton of booze, she thought. She grabbed the bottle of expensive wine and poured herself a glass. She gulped it down. Then she poured another one, drinking it down quicker than the first one. Finally, one more glass of wine went down, and she was ready to open her mouth.
“Mind saving a little for me, angel.” Tom chuckled lightly, y/n made work getting him a glass (and more for herself wouldn’t hurt.)
“Okay, so it was my last year of high school. I had been fawning over this guy since I was twelve. Then, out of nowhere, he’s pulling me into empty stalls and telling me he can’t be without me and he’s in love with me,” y/n started, she was cut off by the man next to her.
“How could he not?” Tom quipped as he took a small gulp of his wine. y/n gave him a hard glare as she tried to steal his attention away from the flush of her cheeks.
“Anyway, it took a bit of time but like the idiot I am, I gave in. We went on a few dates; we were happy for a good while. Until those two stupid fucking lines,” she felt her voice break. Her head started to feel dizzy. Like it would roll off her neck will the snap of a finger. “Maybe, I was feeling all maternal, and I told him I was pregnant. To my surprise, he stayed with me for my first trimester. He refused to tell his parents, I of course, had to confess to mine. Sometimes I think that was the first red flag. It wasn’t until the middle of my third trimester things went downhill. It’s normal for women to put on a little weight when they’re pregnant. Obviously, he didn’t have a fucking clue.” y/n felt herself, get more furious and more upset with every word that rolled off her tongue. “He started telling me 'You look enormous’, 'I have a fat whale for a girlfriend, 'I wish you had aborted that thing, so I wouldn’t have to look at you like this’,” She was in tears now, the salty liquid dripped from her cheeks onto her dress. Tom knelt in front of her, his hands rubbing small circles on her knees. “He abandoned me, right when it counted.” She started him. Tom felt his heart shatter. “Everyone leaves me Tom.”
“I’ll never leave you, y/n” Tom reassured her, he took her shaking hands in his. y/n peered down, she shook her head.
“Tom, you don’t want me,” y/n sobbed, “No one does, it’s okay.”
“y/n,” Tom hovered above her, his palms rested on her warm cheeks. “I want you, more than I have ever wanted something in my life.” Their eyes met. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
y/n was in disbelief, her hands rested on his wrist. Her cries stopped as soon as she felt his thumb stroking soft circles on her cheek.
Tom still saw that look in her eyes. The look of a woman so broken by a man who never loved her, who took advantage of her admiration. Something Tom needed more than air to breathe. He was making it his mission, that y/n would not leave his home until she finally knew that not only did her son appreciate her, but he did just as much.
So, he took a chance. He bent down and encaptured her lips with his. She tasted like everything, he dreamt of. She tasted like the cakes his mother would make for him on his birthday. She was the breath of sweet excitement when he smelled homemade pancakes. It surprised him he hadn’t completely dissolved at this simple touch.
y/n sat in shock for a moment. Her brain tried to catch up to his movements. He didn’t move against at first. She pressed into it. Her hands gripping slightly at his wrists as she reciprocated the tender kiss. She, too, felt the satisfaction of knowing what he too tasted like. She took notes of all the little details; the taste of freshly smoked nicotine, the smell of his cologne wafted around her; the pronounced viens in his hands. She was in heaven.
Their lips moved against each other. It wasn’t needy or rushed. It was steady and passionate. y/n has experienced a kiss like this in her 24-year-old life. “Take me to the bedroom,” she spoke through mousey breathless moans. Tom pulled away completely at this.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Tom told her sweetly, y/n hands caress his cheek gently as she gave him a warm smile.
“You’re not taking advantage of me Tom,” she stood from her chair, never letting her eyes tear from his, “I want this.”
Tom beamed. His hands snaked their way to the underside of her bum, pinching softly. Instructing her to jump, which she happily obliged. y/n could feel him, grasp at her bare thighs. Every time he touched her skin, it burned with sinful passion.
Perhaps it was the one too many wines she had downed in less than a minute or that this was the first man she’s really been intimate with since Theo’s father left. Either way, her skin felt so susceptible to each kiss her laid on her. Hyper sensitive to every pull at her skin. So responsive to his touches.
Tom took his time laying her on the sheets. He took his time to look at her flushed skin in the dim lighting at how she looked like something sent from God. Why God was sending him something in the first place was a question for later. As he sauntered away from her to lock the door, y/n noticed the decor until the feeling dawned on her. Was she really about to sleep with Mafia King; Tom Holland. She had only one answer- obso-fucking-lutely.
Tom tenderly pushed her onto her back, his face now level to hers. y/n thought she looked as red as a tomato, Tom would agree but wouldn’t protest at all. He laid a soft kiss to her lips, then a slightly harder one to her neck, then to her collarbone. His hands snaked up her dress. His fingers clutched her hips, pulling her clothed heat closer to his already painful hard groin.
y/n watched every move he made, every attempt to bruise her skin. Tom whined quietly when his lips met the fabric instead of her flesh. y/n giggled and lifted her dress over head and onto the floor next to her.
Tom couldn’t help but pull away to take a glimpse of her. Her flushed breasts hidden behind a plain black bra. Most wouldn’t think too much of it, but he couldn’t help himself. Tom could see her hardened nipples peeking through the material. He pulled the cup down slightly. Tom heard her hiss quietly at the sudden exposure. His lips came down to the bud gently. His teeth pulling at the erect skin ever so lightly only to flick the nub quickly. Hearing her quiet moans and praises spurred him on. He needed more.
“T-tom please,” y/n whimpered quietly, her fingers tangling themselves in his messed brown curls. Tom smirked up at her.
“What are you begging for angel face,” Tom asked her innocently.
y/n couldn’t get a single word out with Tom’s fingers dancing at the skin near her soaked panties. Even dipping underneath them for split seconds.
“Do something, with y-your,” she struggled. Tom was enjoying every moment. “f-fingers.”
“Your wish is my command,” Tom rasped out as he pulled her panties down her legs and got between them. He let his pointer finger paint a long strip up her slit. y/n’s hips buckled. “You’re so wet doll, being such a good girl.”
y/n could only let out a hum. Tom wanted to hear that divine voice of hers, so he blew a wisp of air against her clit making her cry out. He was lucking the boys’ rooms where so far from here. “Look at me, I want to see those gorgeous eyes gloss over when I make you cum,” he promised as he laid a chaste kiss to her inner left thigh. y/n couldn’t wait another moment, she might explode. Slowly her eyes met his. His face was mere centimeters from her cunt.
Tom didn’t take a second longer. As soon as her eyes were on him, he went in hard. His tongue latched onto her throbbing clit, pulling and sucking so hard it was audible for the both of them to fawn over. He couldn’t forget about the promise he made, so his digits circled her hole delicately before he slipped two of his fingers into her.
y/n felt her whole body go numb. It was a feeling so exotic to her. Yet, here she was. Barely able to make a sentence as she tried to bite back constant moans that begged to be let out. Her toes curled even picking up some sheets beneath her.
Tom could feel her fingers pulled at the roots of his hair. He couldn’t but moan against her pussy, causing vibrations in every nerve in her already sensitive body.
“Oh my god, y-yes,” She let slip. y/n swears she’s starting to see stars now. “F-fucking hell, you’re a-amazing.”
Tom allowed his fingers to hit deeper inside her with that comment. He was making her cum now, or he will blow without even feeling her yet. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happens. He pulled his mouth away from her clit with a loud pop, letting his digits do all the work. He watched her writhe and pull at anything she could grasp. God, she was so fucking perfect.
“Christ, j-just like that,” y/n encouraged him, “I’m going to c-cum.”
“Do it angel face, cum all around my fingers.” Tom whispered to her, “let me taste your sweetness.”
y/n felt her first orgasm wash over her like a tsunami. She needed to scream her heart out but quickly smothered her moan in the pillows beside her. Tom peered at her intently. To him, he was watching an angel. Seeing her cum is now his new favourite thing. Being the one to cause such pleasure within her makes him feel as though he’s on top of the world. His fingers rode her through her orgasm until she hit the end. Her hair sprawled out as she tried to catch any breath left in her lungs. Hell, she was trying to regain some of her sight. Tom brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue licked them clean. Her juices tasted like nothing he’s ever had before and he immediately knows, there is no way he’s letting this go.
Tom stripped himself bare now. He crawled above her once more. His curls falling slightly in his face. y/n opened her eyes to see him on top of her. y/n took this moment to run her hand down his torso. Each time her fingers lapped over a muscle, she felt herself recapture her arousal. Her fingers found the base of his dick.
He was bigger than what she thought, bigger than her ex. It started her a tad when she felt his hard length. She started pumping his slowly. Tom’s arms almost buckled at the feeling.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to cum into your hand,” his pulled her wrist away from him to above her head, “and I just want to pound this sweet little cunt into oblivion.” The words cause y/n to whimper, eager for him to fulfill his promise.
“Then do it,” she leaned up to whisper in his ear. As she pulled back, he locked eyes with her. Utter shock and an animalistic urge filled his every thought. He didn’t even give her a warning before he slammed right into her. y/n cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Tom couldn’t believe the feeling. She was hugging every vein, every mark, every inch of his cock and yet so was still so fucking tight. He pulled out of her, only to ram back into her. “Fucking hell, you’re divine,” Tom growled, still deep inside of her. Slowly, he picked up a rhythm.
Every part of y/n’s post was filled the brim by him. He hit her g-spot almost instantly. His name became a chant to her as it never ceased to spill from her lips. Each time he pounded back into her, y/n’s voice became horse and rougher. Her nails dug into his bag as she clawed for support. Any support she could get from him.
Tom’s been with countless women. Now he’s finding it hard to sustain a sentence. He can hardly make out anything other than y/n’s name. He wasn’t complaining though, her tight walls constricting around with every movement. Tom wondered for a moment if he died and went to heaven and was fucking the dirtiest angel he could find.
“You look so goddamn beautiful taking my cock,” he praised. He let his head fall into the crook of her neck, smelling her perfume made him almost lose his shit right there. “You feel so good squeezing around me.”
Every word was threatening to her. Every word was pushing her closer to her limit. Every word was forcing more moans out of her mouth. “I’m going to cum, Tommy,” she warned him.
The nickname only helped Tom lodge himself deeper and harder into her, “I am too, don’t hold back angel face,” he pressed a kiss underneath her ear.
y/n’s second orgasm rolled over more intense the second time than the first. She pulled her head into his skin, biting and pulling to contain herself. Her legs gave out on her and flopped from his waist and quivered beside him. Tom was quick to follow her. How could he not, with how firmly she was gripping his cock. He pulled out quickly and spurted out streams across her belly. The white liquid dripping over her skin made him see stars.
He collapsed next to her, heaving and panting. y/n turned to him. She placed a long kiss on his lips, bringing his face closer. Tom happily hummed against her skin.
He pulled her into a tight hug. Her fingers traced the outline of his pec. “I’m infatuated with you,” he told her plainly. y/n didn’t move nor did she flinch. She just stared up at him with a wide smile.
“As am I,” she responded quietly. He wanted her to stay here forever, he had admitted to himself that he wanted to be near her for the rest his life. It was like she had cast some spell over him. He, though, had happily fallen for it.
SUMMARY; The Hollands are a powerful mob, in charge of most of London, and the only gang in their way is your family. So naturally, your parents have decided to join forces together, roping you and Tom into their own little affairs. Tom didn’t want an arranged marriage, and nor did you. You were happy with your own life and your own boyfriend, and you were much more than either of you agreed to. commission by @pparkerxreader
Under normal circumstances Tom Holland would speak his mind, loudly. He would protest and yell and tell anyone and everyone to go fuck themselves, that he was the one who made the decisions, that no one stays alive for long enough to tell Tom what he can and cannot do.
But with a gun against his head he couldn’t say no, he wouldn’t daresay no to his father. What his father wanted, his father got. He never asked twice. His father was the only man in London that Tom actually feared.
And although the gun was only metaphorical at the time–he could very easily take out his glock and aim it right at his son’s head if he dared disobey him. Tom knew that. So Tom nodded his head silently and read over the papers.
No one, and I mean no one writes mob!tom like you do, holy shit!!!!! That was so good, I mean… “It was clear you two fell into love in the same way one falls into a routine–unknowingly, until it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Ex-fucking-cuse me?!?!?!?!?! So beautiful, I can’t!!!!!
Summary: Working as the assistant of London’s most feared mob boss for a few years, your relationship was purely professional. But after he caught himself eavesdropping on your conversation, he couldn’t help but offer a proposal… it was strictly business; or so you thought.
Warnings: doctor’s appointments, talks of pregnancy, contracts, mentions of sex
Word Count: 3056
A/N: The first part is here! Thank you to everyone who is looking forward to this series and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! Enjoy!
