I miss you, kinda sex. - Tom Holland Imagine.

|| summary: reunion or ‘i miss you’ sex with tom!!

|| author’s note: mainly lots of smut, but also lots of fluff

• because of tom’s hectic work schedule; there’s lots of reunion sexual endeavors.

• sometimes the sex is quick, heated, and rough.

• that’s when you know he’s really been missing your body, and that part of the relationship.

• that kinda sex usually consists of orgasm denial(from him), hair pulling, fast thrusts, hickeys, and nail marks.

• it usually happens anywhereandeverywhere because tom can’t keep his hands off of you!! i.e. bathrooms, restaurants, cars, the doorway of your apartment, you name it - yes.

• but sometimes the sex is very slow and superpassionate.

• that kinda sex consists of so many kisses, hand holding, ’i love you’s, and very slow builds to your orgasms.

• that’s when you know he’s completely savoring it.

• when it comes to this sex, he usually makes both of you wait. you’ll spend the whole day together - catching up, hanging out with friends/family, and finally at the end of the day he’ll take his girl home and make love to every inch of her body!!

• you love rough tom - you’re not fooling anyone - but slow sex with him is your favorite!!

• he’s always so tender and heedful. his eyes are unwavering from yours, and his mouth knows no bounds - kissing you everywhere.

• his favorite place to kiss you, while he’s inside you(besides your lips!!), is just behind your ear, down to your neck.

• the feeling of your pulse beating, gasps of air sliding down your throat, and sweat raising to the surface of your neck - all beneath his lips; is such a turn on for him!!

• he also loves kissing and sucking in your sweet spots, because he loves watching you squirm and feeling your insides tighten around him in response.

• slow sex also consists of switching positions/you riding him.

• to say, he loves seeing you on top of him, would be a colossalunderstatement.

• one minute, he’d be above you, thrusting slowly, and then he’d suddenly flip onto his back - pulling you on top of him. (never breaking his contact inside you either!!)

• “ride me, darling.” was all he’d ever need to say before you’d starting grinding your hips on top of him.

• seeing as he’s always in control during rough sex, he usually let’s you take the reins in this position. unless you start going to fast, in which case he grabs your hips and slows you.

• “slow, pretty girl. go slow. savor how good it feels.”

• seeing him underneath you; his eyes on you, his mouth open slightly as he gasps quietly, and his hips coming up to meet yours was enough to send you over the edge - always.

• lot’s of aftermath cuddles!!

• like always.

• his hands would comb through your hair, as your head lay on his chest, while you two talked about your adventures apart - even though almost all of the stories being heard were retold; neither of you cared. you just loved hearing eachother talk.

• now… rough sex was a totally different story.

• so much dirty talk, slamming against walls/clear surfaces, and ripping of clothes.

• especially when tom would be coming home from the airport in his grey sweats - bigmistake.

• “easy, love. you’re going to rip them.” tom would warn, as you practically mauled him out of his sweats.

• considering tom, almost on a regular basis, ripped through your panties(even your favorite pairs)whenever he’d want to make things quicker - you wouldn’t care.

• you’d practically lose your mind whenever tom would come home and completely attack you - not even so much as a ’hello’.

• his hands would be all over you, ripping apart your clothing - sending buttons flying and pushing you onto a nearby flat surface(which was usually a kitchen countertop or the couch).

• his mouth always found its way between your thighs, before going anywhere else. he loved kissing you there.

• making sure to tease you as much as possible, he’d constantly keep on the edge.

• “have you missed this?” tom would say mockingly, the heat of his breath tickling you.

• most of the time your answer was incoherent - just whimpers and nods.

• even so, you’d have to beg him to let you cum before he’d ever satisfy you.

• but rough sex with tom is great, because he’s usually the most calm afterwards.

• it’s always a complete180.

• “so, do you want to get something to eat? because i’ve just worked up an appetite.” he’d ask casually, after he just fucked your brains out on the sofa.

• still, even though rough sex is rough. tom is constantly aware and knows what lines you won’t allow him to cross.

• he loves you - so no matter what, sex is about that.

basically reunion(as any other kind of)sex with tom is amazing and would be unforgettable!!

So, what’s for breakfast? - Tom Holland Imagine.

|| summary: morning sex with tom!!

|| author’s note: smut!! this was requested by an anon, you weren’t very specific on what you wanted - hope you enjoyed the direction i went :)

part 2

The, annoyingly familiar, sound of a loud ping drags you out of a deep sleep. Squinting one eye open, you peer over at the bedside table, raising your head slightly. A message from your mom has lit up your phone screen.

Hey baby, just checking in. I didn’t see you before you left, and Janice said she saw Tom and you leaving in a hurry. Hope everything’s okay, pumpkin. Love you x

A small smile quirks up the sides of your lips as you drop your head again. Turning onto your back, you stretch out your tender limbs, relaxing their tense state from the interesting night you had before. You can’t help your grin, as you begin recalling the events from the previous evening.

Tom and you, had attended your mom’s friend’s wedding. It was her third marriage, so everyone there was at least in their early thirties - except for you two. To make things more interesting, Tom had decided to play a game of cat and mouse - seeing who could tease the other more.

It ended, how those games usually end, in a lot of sexual frustration. Not being able to bear it any longer, the two of you hurried home after cake was served. You wish you could say you made it until then, but admittedly - you had sex in Tom’s car… still in the parking lot. Tom also had you in the walkway of your apartment… and on this bed.

Your lips quirk up in a micheavous smile, as you reminisce on all the things he did to you. Sighing contentedly, you look over to find you’re unaccompanied in bed. You sit up, causing the blankets to fall to your waist, reminding you that you’re still naked. You shuffle out of bed, grabbing Tom’s discarded button up off the floor, as you head into the bathroom.

Taking one look at yourself in the mirror, you immediately blush crimson. Instinctively, your thighs squeeze together as your eyes flick over all the marks on your body. You have multiple hickies on your neck, breasts, and stomach. Closing your eyes briefly, you allow yourself to reimagine Tom’s skilled mouth on your body.

Shaking your head, you bring yourself back to reality, as you slip Tom’s shirt over your shoulders - cuffing the selves and buttoning all, but the top four buttons; so’s to reveal a tantalizing amount of cleavage. Noting that the shirt stops just above your mid thigh, you decide on not wearing panties. You quickly wash your face, and brush your teeth, before wandering out to the kitchen.

As soon as you reach the hallway, you’re met with the irreplaceable smell of brewing coffee. A hint of a smile tugs at your lips, as you continue down the hall. You peak around the corner, and are met with the welcome sight of Tom’s naked back. His perfectly sculptured backside, is enough to get you excited and weak in the knees. He’s dressed in nothing, but your favorite pair of his sweats - the grey ones. Tiptoeing over to him, you wrap your arms around his waist, startling him a bit.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Tom smiles, looking down at you, over his shoulder.

“Morning.” You smile innocently up at him, before tugging his coffee cup out of his hand, and pulling it around him.

He turns to face you, as you take a few steps back, his left eyebrow raising in question. Leaning against the kitchen island, you continuing to sip his coffee and smile at him. “Sleep okay?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest, watching you intently. You nod, pulling the cup away from your lips. “You?” He shrugs and purses his lips. “It was alright.”

Your mouth pops open at his audacity, causing you to scoff. “Ass.” You tease. “Excuse me?” Tom challenges, uncrossing his arms. You shake your head, and hand him back his coffee. Walking over to fridge, you make sure to tease him alittle by swaying your hips.

Opening its doors, you get on your tiptoes to explore the fridge’s condiments, allowing his shirt to raise even further up your thighs. “So,” you sigh. “What’s for breakfast?” Suddenly, warm hands are making their way up your thighs to grip your waist. “You.” Tom growls, inches from your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck.

Before your brain can process this, Tom lifts, and then places you on the kitchen island. You gasp at the sudden sensation of the cooled surface against your heated skin, and Tom takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. One of his hands falls to the small of your back, holding you against him, while the other reaches up to cup your face - controlling the kiss. Immediately, your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, to close the distance between the two of you.

You moan at the friction you feel against his sweats, and begin grinding your hips into it. The feeling of his clothed erection, against your exposed skin is a unexpectedly heady sensation. You hear him groan into your mouth, as his tongue massages against yours. Breaking away from the kiss, Tom nips at your lower lip, before untangling himself from you.

You move to protest, until you see him turn and reopen the fridge, digging through it. After a beat, he turns to face you with a bottle of carmel sauce in his hand. Your eyebrows furrow together, as he dips his index and middle finger into the container. “I told you,” he explains, “you’re going to be breakfast.”

When your mouth pops open, Tom places his two covered fingers on your bottom lip. “Suck.” He says, watching you intently, his eyes heated. Saying nothing, you grab his hand and bring his index finger into your mouth, sucking hard. You hear his sharp intake of breath, and watch as his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth. Your tongue swirls around his finger, before you pull it out of your mouth, and nibble at the tip of it. He watches, as you then take his middle finger into your mouth, repeating the same motion as before.

To be extra thorough, you pull both fingers into your mouth as your tongue flicks up the sides, and in between them. Tom licks his lips as you pull his fingers out your mouth, kissing the tips of them. “Good girl.” Tom rasps, as he leans down to kiss you, his hand trailing down your body. You moan into his mouth, when his fingers slide past your wet folds and then slip inside of you. “Jesus, Tom.” You groan, tilting your head back at the welcome sensation. His fingers curl inside you, as his thumb circles your clit. “Baby, you’re so fucking wet for me.” You close your eyes, as Tom leans down to kiss your neck - retracing his marks from last night.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of you, causing you to whimper in protest. Your eyes flicker open, “Why’d you stop?” Looking up, you find Tom sucking his fingers clean, his eyes are closed as he savors each finger’s taste of you. “Because, I wanted a taste. I’m hungry.” You blink up at him, as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back upright.

His fingers begin unbottoning your(his) shirt, slowly working their way down. Once the shirt is undone, he uses his index finger to push it open, revealing your naked body to him. He clicks his tongue as he eyes you up and down. “You are so fucking beautiful. You know that?” You blush, feeling his intense gaze on you, and your eyes avoid him by looking up at ceiling.

A cold, thick, liquid draining down your chest calls your attention back down. Tom has begun dripping the carmel sauce down your chest, allowing it spill over your breasts and down your stomach. Your nipples harden at the cool tempature, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

“You’re going to taste so good, pretty girl.” Tom admits idly, his eyes growing in hunger as they watch the sauce work it’s way down your chest. After a beat, he pushes you onto your back and pulls your body down - so half of you is sprawled on top of the counter, while the other half wraps around his waist to hold itself up. Using one arm he holds you up, while the other rests on the counter to balance the two of you in this position.

His tongue instantly starts on your collarbones, slowly working his way across them to lick up all of the carmel. One of your hands falls down, to help prop yourself up, and the other digs into his hair, before sliding down his back and flattening against it - holding him close. “God, Tom. You’re so good.” You encourage, as his mouth continues lower, his tongue working it’s way over the tops of your breasts. “Tell me, darling,” Tom breathes against your skin, “tell me how good it feels.” His mouth restarts its process, sucking along the sides of your breasts and working their way in.

“So good, Tom.” You moan. “Please.” You beg, not sure exactly what you want, just knowing you don’t want him to stop. Ever. He pulls one of your breasts into his mouth, and his tongue begins rolling over your nipple. “Fuck.” You groan, as your hips buck up suddenly, grinding against his growing erection. He moans around your nipple, before pulling it out of mouth and working his way over the other breast - repeating the same process.

Once he pulls that breast out of his mouth, you cup the back of his neck and tug his mouth to yours. His lips are sticky, and he tastes of carmel and coffee. Your tongue is greedy for him, as it slips into his mouth, massaging against him. He exhales heavily, as his hand holding the two of you up, reaches to cup your face. You both fall back onto the island, as Tom’s hands slips under your shirt to hold your backside. You hardly notice the contact your head made with rough island surface, as your hands trail down his back to cup his ass, making him grind against your heat.

“Please, Tom.” You mumble against his lips, and he knows exactly what you want. Holding himself up with one hand, he leans down with the other to tug his sweats off enough to free his hardened length. Wasting no time, Tom slides into you with ease and groans loudly as your insides clench around him. “Fuck,” he groans, closing his eyes briefly as he props himself onto his elbows.

You moan loudly as his hips swirl against yours, before beginning to thrust back and forth. Your arms loop around his neck, your breasts raising and falling as he reaches a more punishing rhythm. You feel your muscles begin tightening and the familiar heat grow in your stomach.

Suddenly, Tom leans up into a standing position and pulls you to edge of the counter. Dropping one of your legs to the side, and pulling the other higher up his waist, he begins hitting you at a new and deeper spot. You gasp, and throw your head back, your hips bucking against his to meet his new pace. One of your hands falls down to the counter, to hold yourself up, while the other wraps around Tom’s shoulders.

Leaning down, Tom takes your mouth in his as you feel yourself building again. One of Tom’s hands reaches down between you, and his thumb begins circling your clit. Your toes curl and you break away from the kiss to groan loudly. His hips and thumb continue their same momentum, and he has to snake his arm around your back to keep you up right, as your orgasm rips through you. “Tom, oh my god. Yes.” You’re practically screaming at this point, but you don’t care, your orgasm is too powerful to control yourself. “Shit, baby. God.” Tom’s head falls to the crook of your neck as he continue his same thrusts, pushing himself over the edge.

His hips grow sloppy, as he rides both of you through your highs, before he collapses against you, causing both of you to fall back. You stay like this, as you catch your breath; his head on your chest, and your fingers stroking his naked back. “Holy fuck.” He mumbles, standing straight, and pulling his sweats up. “I know.” You agree, rebuttoning your shirt - ignoring the feeling of sticky carmel on your skin.

“How’sthat for breakfast?” Tom grins, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. You shrug and purse your lip, mimicking him earlier. “It’s alright.” Tom rolls his eyes, before kissing your hair. You hop off the island and stretch out your limbs. “So, really,” you say opening the fridge and glancing over at Tom. “What’s for breakfast?”

That time of the month. - Tom Holland Imagine.

|| summary: basically a list of shit that would happen the days leading up to, during, and after your period with tom.

|| author’s note: fluff. smutty. fluff. smutty. fluff.

• let’s be real, every girl gets very horny leading up to their periods… so lots of sex.

• tom would be surprised at how often you’d throw yourself at him.

• “shit,darling. you are insatiable.” he’d say biting his lip, as you kissed his neck, your hands sliding into his pants.

• “guilty,” you’d murmur kissing your way up to his ear - hitting all his favorite spots causing him to squirm, “what’s my punishment?”

• “i can think of a thing or two.” tom would say, raising his eyebrows micheviously, before throwing you onto your back.

•so much oral!! (giving and receiving leading up to your period)

• because you’d be extremely hormonal - your feelings would get hurt a lot and you’d be irritable more often than not.

• tom wouldn’t know how to handle this hotandcold attitude so sometimes he’d jump you or he’d cuddle you as a way of apologizing.

• cuddling usually led to fucking. damn those hormones!!

• your first day is always super heavy, and you’d be extra cranky + nauseous.

• sometimes tom would text you “do you want me to bring you home snacks?” or he’d just bring them without even asking.

•so many booty and head rubs!!

• “baby…” you’d say, blinking innocently up at him, your head propped on his chest. “hmm?” he’d ask, still looking at his phone. “do you wanna make your girl, really, really happy?” you’d tempt, biting your lip.

• he’d look down at you, already knowing what you’re about to ask.

• “back or front?” he’d question, setting his phone on the bedside table. “front. belly.” you’d say eagerly, pulling your shirt up to give him better access to your sensative stomach.

• using his finger tips, he’d run them along your stomach - up and down, side to side - somewhat soothing your cramps.

• you’d fight sleep, not wanting to feel the absence of the sensation, but inevitably - you’d give in.

• even after you were asleep, tom would continue to rub your stomach - his head rested on your chest, eyes closed, relaxing himself into his own sleep.

• clearly,lots of napping together.

• arguing a lot because you’re cranky, but tom wouldn’t take it to heart, and you’d always apologize first because you felt guilty.

• “i’m sorry for yelling earlier, baby. i didn’t mean it.” you’d mumble, twiddling your thumbs, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding eye contact. tom would walk over to you, cupping your chin, bringing it up to his face.

• he’d kiss you slowly and sweetly. “i know, pretty girl. it’s okay.”

• towards the end of your period - those hormones would come back again.

• you weren’t into period sex - but tom and you would still find a way to get off. (horny lil fuckers!!)

• making out and grinding against each other was how you did it.

• “baby,” you’d whine wanting desperately to feel more friction than his bulge was providing, “i want more.” his hips would continue their steady, rough, pace against the fabric of your panties.

• “i know, darling.” he’d groan, closing his eyes, feeling himself nearing the edge. “just feel me.”

• throwing your head back, you’d squeeze your eyes shut, imagining him inside you. your hips quickening against his.

• “yes,” tom would seethe - driving you both to your orgasms, “that’s it, baby. just like that.”

• your orgasm would tear through you, causing you to shiver and quake beanthe tom.

• he’d collapse ontop of you, feeling his cum leak down his legs through his pants. “still, fucking incredible.” he’d mumble against your lips - causing you to smile.

• finally, you’d be off your period and tom wouldn’t hesitate to fuck you. starting with his favorite thing to do to you…

• with his head between your legs, he’d sigh contentedly. “i’ve missed this part of you.” he murmured against your folds, his hot breath causing you to squirm.

• reaching down, you’d tangle your hands in his hair. “kiss me,” you’d beg, “i’ve missed your mouth on me.”

• saying nothing, he’d smile and lean forward to give you what you’ve both been missing.

i have such a period with tom kink, oops.

|| summary: you’re cuddling with tom and things take an interesting turn…

|| author’s note: smut. smut. smut. smut. read at your own risk!

“Comfortable?” Tom teases, as you readjust yourself for the tenth in the past five minutes. Using your feet, you kick the blanket further down the couch, so it’s rested along your ankles. Then, you nod. Tom smiles and places his head back on your shoulder, returning his attention to the TV.

After a few moments, you move from being on your back to on your side. “Jesus.” Tom groans as he lifts his head, that you’ve just disturbed from it’s position. “Can you sit still for five minutes?” Glancing over your shoulder, you find him annoyingly looking down at you. “I probably could, if I was more relaxed.” You admit. He raises his eyebrows, and props himself onto one elbow. “And how may I assist you in becoming more comfortable, madam?” You bite your lip, trying to hold back your grin. “A back massage would be great.” Tom rolls his eyes, and mositions his hand, signalling for you to turn over.

You eagerly comply, turning onto your chest, exposing your back to him. Tom begins by gently rubbing your back through your shirt, causing your muscles to relax. After a few moments, he grabs the hem over your shirt and tugs it. You hold yourself up, allowing him to slip it over your head, before laying back down. “Take your bra off.” He says, while unclasping it for you. Without hesitation, you sit up and slip the straps off your shoulder, causing the bra to fall to the floor. Tom pulls you back into your laying position, and you cross your arms under your head to support it.

With deft fingers, Tom begins massaging circles into your back. You close your eyes, and hum low in your throat. Using one hand, he massages the back of your neck, his fingers teasing the roots of your hair. The other hand’s palm is placed along your lower back, putting pressure along the sides of your spine. You groan at the two sensations, loving every caress. “You like that, sunshine?” Tom asks, and you sense his smile grow as you continue to moan. “Oh my god, yes.” You rasp, while nodding your head to annunciate just how good it feels.

Taking both hands, he places them on your shoulder blades and uses his thumbs to pressure remove any knotts, while his other fingers mirror each other - making circular motions. Your mouth pops open, as you moan loudly. His hands continue this process all the way down your back, as you practically drool all over yourself.

When Tom’s hands reach the waist band of your panties, instead of going back up, he continues down - massaging over your ass cheeks. “Oh fuck,” you groan at the rare sensation. You love booty rubs, but you’ve yet to tell Tom that. His hands squeeze, and spread you cheeks, while his fingers continue to massage into them. He then uses his knuckles to rub up and down the sides of your cheeks, working their way in. You moan again, before feeling the absence of Tom’s deft touch on your ass.

Suddenly, Tom flips you over so your lying on your back. “Time to which sides.” Tom smirks, cupping your face and kissing you quickly. Before you can say anything, Tom’s hands are sliding down to your chest, teasing your lips as they go. His hands cup your breasts, allowing them to fill his palms. “You fit my hand perfectly.” Tom admits idly, while his fingers begin to tease your nipples. You arch your back in response and whisper, “fuck.” He rolls your nipples between his fingers and watches as you begin squirming underneath him. Your eyes close, as your thighs squeeze together in desperation of friction. “Oh, baby. I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now.” Tom groans, as he leans down to nip and suck your neck. “Tom,” you rasp as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair.

One of Tom’s hands wraps around your back, holding you flush against him, as the other slips into your panties. His fingers, spread open your folds to find you’re already soaking. Without hesitation, he slides two fingers inside you while his thumb begins circling you’re clit. You squeeze your lips together, holding in your moans. “Ah-ah,” Tom tisks, leaning down and biting your lower lip, tugging it down, “I wanna hear you.” You moan loudly, as his fingers quicken their pace, pumping faster inside you, as his thumb adds more pressure to your clit. Tom nods down at you in encouragement, “That’s it, baby. Mhm.”

Your muscles begin tightening as your hips grind against his hand. Your breathing quickens and your hands reach down to grasp his biceps, squeezing tightly. “Jesus,” you seethe as your orgasm blows through you. Your thighs tighten around his hand, while your toes curl, and your back arches pushing you further against Tom. “That’s it, pretty girl. You’re so fucking pretty.” Tom brushes hair away from your face, as you pant, trying to catch your breath. Leaning down, his tongue slips into your open mouth, coaxing a kiss out of you.

Tom breaks away from the kiss first, for air, as your breathing calms. Pulling his hand out of your panties, Tom slips his fingers into his mouth and begins sucking them clean. You watch, in awe, feeling your insides twitch slightly in response. “Well,” Tom says after pulling his fingers out his mouth, “that escalated quickly.” You laugh aloud, as you reach down to pick up your shirt, not bothering to grab your bra. “You’re telling me.” You giggle, pulling your shirt over your head. Leaning over, you kiss Tom sweetly. “Thank you.” Tom smiles and shifts into a laying a position, tossing and turning a few times, waiting for you to join him.

“Comfortable?” You tease, smirking. “Actually… a back massage would be great.” You bite your lip and smile, “turn over.”

IMAGINE TOM ABOVE YOU!!

OKAY BUT IMAGINE…

• beads of sweat on his forehead, as he thrusts into you.

• his eyes closed - focusing on the feel of you and concentrating on his hip movements (occasionally rotating them to hit you deeper/at a new angle)!!

• the occasional whimpers, ‘god, baby’ and ’i love you, fuck’ that would escape his mouth out of PURE pleasure. (and his voice would be soraspy!!)

• his head would fall into the crook of your neck as his hips really started gaining momentum!!

• his moans and deep groans from low in his throat would become louder and more uncontrollable as he gets closer to his orgasm.

• he would grasp that back of your thigh, lifting it, so he can hit even deeper than before. (his grip on your thigh would be so tight!!)

• you would feel all the muscles clenching in his back and biceps, as he holds himself above you - getting close to the edge of cumming!!

• he’d tell you how good you feel and how bad he wants you as he’s about to come.

• ’fuck, pretty girl. i’m gonna cum.’ he’d rasp right into your ear, his hips growing sloppy.

• reaching down with one hand, his skilled fingers would massage your clit, helping you reach your orgasm with him.

• he’d bring his face up from your neck, to rest it on your forehead - your guys’ noses running along each others as he continues thrusting.

•'eyes, open and on me, princess.’ he’d command, groaning louder than before.

• just like that, you’re both cumming and you watch him squeeze his eyes shut, moaning your name loudly, as he pants whimpers out of his mouth.

• after his hips ride the two of you through your highs, he’d collapse on top of you - completely spent and you’d feel his entire weight on you.

• oh, and he’d be soooosweaty!!

BASICALLY having sex with Tom in missionary position would be the best because you can see him come(no pun intended)undone above you!!

“What are we seeing this time?” Jacob asks, glancing up at the screen that has movies and show times listed. “I think Tom said, (Y/N) is deciding.” Zendaya mumbles, not looking up from her phone. You raise your eyebrows at Tom and he smirks. “Oh, I’m definitely not deciding. Harrison? Any ideas?” Harrison silently shakes his head and everyone looks to Laura. She raises her hands in a defense position. “This was all Tom’s idea.” You all look to Tom and he chuckles, before examining the screen. “What about… Baby Driver?” Tom decides. You and Tom, have already seen it but it was a good movie, so you wouldn’t mind seeing it again. Everyone nods in agreement and you all walk up to the ticket booth.

A third of the way into the movie, Tom casually places his hand on your knee. You glance down at it, then over at him to find he’s watching the screen intently. Shrugging it off, you turn your attention back to the screen. After a few minutes, you feel Tom’s hand slowly making its way up your thigh. Realizing what he’s trying to do, you squeeze your thighs together in attempt to prevent his greedy fingers from getting what they want. You glare over at Tom in the darkness of the theatre, but he’s looking forward, as if he has no idea what his hand is doing. Tom’s trapped hand strokes your thigh with his thumb, tickling your flesh with his gentle touch. After a couple minutes, you absentmindedly relax your legs and Tom takes this moment to strike. Quickly, but subtly, Tom’s hand moves into your panties, and begins running his index and middle finger down your folds. You play your gasp off as a cough and try to keep your attention anywhere but down there.

His deft fingers, spread your lips open and begin making circular motions over your clit. Eager for more contact, your legs spread open, giving him better access. You peek over to your right, checking if anyone’s noticing your guy’s dirty act, but find all of their attention to be on the movie. Tom’s middle and forefinger slide into you with ease, as his thumb comes up to continue circling your clit. You close your eyes at the sensation, and tilt your head back slightly, taking in every caress.

You bite your lip, holding in your moans, as Tom gains momentum. Pumping his fingers in and out of you, but keeping the same pressure and motion on your bulb of nerves, is enough to drive you wild. Your hand reaches down to grasp Tom’s forearm, urging him on. You sense Tom’s smirk, but your eyes are still closed. Your mouth falls open slightly, but you quickly shut it again in fear of letting a moan slip out. As Tom’s fingers continue their relentless and unwavering motion, your breathing increases. You feel beads of sweat forming on the sides of your forehead, and you tilt your head back. Biting your lip roughly, and using all the self restraint you have, you silently make your way through your orgasm. Grinding your hips gently against Tom’s fingers, you sigh through you nostrils as you come down.

You glance to your right, double-checking that no one noticed, and you’re relieved to find them in the same state they were a few minutes ago. Tom removes his fingers from your panties and pulls them into his mouth. You watch him as he licks them clean, feeling yourself tingle in response. He glances over at you, his eyes a smoldering brown. Your mouth pops open and he leans over, brushing the hair away from your ear. “You have no idea what I’d like to do with that mouth right now, darling.” When he pulls away you’re still gaping at him. Licking your lips, you scoot a little closer to him, so you’re inches away from his face. “Why don’t you show me?” You challenge. You hear his breath hitch in his throat and he bites his lip. Closing his eyes briefly, you hear a faint groan low in his throat. He turns his head to examine the movie screen. “The movie’s almost over. Tell Laura and Zendaya we’re leaving.”

You nod and turn to the girls, while he turns to Harrison and Jacob. “Sorry but, we gotta leave. Tom’s not feeling well. We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” You whisper to Zendaya. She nods and you ask her to tell Laura. Before you can get a response, Tom grasps your hand and pulls you down the crowded aisle, to the walkway leading out the exit. His hastily way of leaving and how tight his grip is on your hand, you know you’re gonna have your work cut out for you. You bite your in anticipation. You can’t fucking wait.

A/N: should i do a part 2 ??

Take a break.

|| summary: in which tom helps the reader to destress from her hectic school work.

|| author’s note: smut & filth, y’all already know my brand loooool + sorry it’s been soooo long, yikes.

warnings: this au features aggressive, but totally consensual nsfw content… read at your own discretion, please.

Strained red eyes and tight back muscles begged for any form of alleviation, but the intermittent shifting of positions was providing you with enough comfort to keep the driving pain at bay. Still, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to remain focused on your school work; primarily so, when Tom walked through the bedroom door in nothing but low-hanging sweats. The smug smirk he offered was a pleasant sight, especially when paired with glorious image of his naked chest. It glistened with droplets of water, shimmering and reflecting off the sun rays spilling in from the open balcony door — silently thanking yourself for opting on natural light.

“Still at it, huh?” He gives you a pitiful half-smile, running a free hand through his damp curls.

You nod, forcing your gaze away from his muscular torso and back to literary works of Charles Dickens — eyes trained to the pages of Bleak House,with your attention anywhere but.

Spotting him moving in your peripheral, half of his blurred figure peaking out over the bridge of your book, the bed soon dips as he sits opposite you. Fresh from shower his smell is intoxicating, and nearly impossible to resist. Nearly. Tenacity for finishing your assignments, outweighing the desire scratching between your legs.

Without a word, he leans forward, curious wet lips brushing the exposed skin of your shoulder, trailing open mouthed kisses up to the curve where bone met soft tissue. As each warm, gentle touch teased its way up your neck, the focus that was on the words below you faltered, eyelids growing heavy as your tense state melted into the familiarity of his mouth.

“I think,” he suggested between kisses, his words muffled into the crook of your neck, “you need to relax.” The rasp of his voice beguiled the lust sprouting in your core, your better judgement rapidly losing traction against the hot breathe now fanning over your ear. “‘Bout time, innit love?”

With your eyes closed, tongue caught between your teeth, you were nearly there — but the rational part of you was not silenced yet, and it was aggressively gnawing away your lust-fogged inability for discernment. “I can’t.”

Sighing reluctantly, you attempted to shrug him off, nudging him slightly with your shoulders. A dissatisfied groan leaves him, passing past his lips and onto the spot he’d just been nipping at, below your ear. “Seriously?” He questions, half serious.

Turning to face him, you nod furiously, your eyes flicking between his tousled curls and the paper work spread across your lap — both in dissary. “I can’t just stop working, I’m really close to finishing this paper, and if I stop now I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to start back up again and—“

“—okay, you need to shut up.” The rest of your incessant rambling is stopped, abruptly cut off by the palm of Tom’s hand which has forcefully clamped down over your mouth — your sentence falling into his skin, becoming muffled and incoherent. Keeping your head positioned so your eyes are on him, he cups the back of your neck with his free hand to hold you in place. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he starts, eyes of brown swirls boring into yours with unwavering intensity, “you’re gonna stop working, and take a break.”

Leaning his weight into you, he forces you onto your back, your head hitting the pillows with a light thud. The softness of the mattress envelops you under his force, your sore muscles screaming with relief. “You’re not gonna think about your work,” The hand on the back of your neck falls to your lap, grabbing your spread of papers and tossing them to the floor in one swift motion.

“Hey—” You grumble a faint protest into his hand, interrupted by the exclamation of his fingers’ grip.

“—I said shut up,” his jaw is tight, eyes narrowed in agitation, “didn’t I?” With the absence of papers clustered on your thighs, he nudges his way between your legs, spreading them effortlessly with his hips. Noting the feeling of his bulge against you, you nod timidly, your breathing gradually pacing out. “You’re just gonna close your eyes,” he picks up from where he left off earlier, “and feel me. My touch.”

Taking the acute shifting of your hips towards his as an answer, he brings his fingers up to his lips, pulling the index and middle into his mouth. You watch as he lubircates them with gentle sucking and flicks of his tongue, the sight causing your insides to clench in anticipation. “Just let me do all the work, pretty girl. Close your eyes and spread ‘em wider for me, yeah?”

As his fingers trailed down your torso, you obliged, spreading your legs as wide as they’d go, and shutting your eyes. Propping himself onto one forearm, he lifts his hips away from yours, providing enough space for his arm to fit between your bodies — his fingers dipping into the lace waistband of your panties. The warm, wet touch of his digits against your slick folds caused your back to arch, pressing your clothed body into his bare chest.

“Jesus,” the word drags out, past his shallow gasp, “this all for me?” Before he’d even touched you, a dampness had grown between your legs at the sight of him, his fingers now running along its evident effect. Pursing your lips against his palm, you nodded, allowing a faint whimper to escape you as his middle finger now dragged lazy circles over your clit. With his forearm pressed against your stomach, the constant flex and relaxation of its muscles, and his two fingers now dipping inside you — it wouldn’t be long.

The length and slenderness of his digits, allowed them to make quick and effortless contact with your g-spot, as they bottomed out before curling. Lips parted and wet against his palm, you allowed a spew of moans to pour into the skin of his hand, nearly thankful that it provided you with a comfortable barrier to cry freely into. “‘Like that, sweet girl?” Tom’s lips brushed along your ear, teeth grazing your lobe, “you like it when my fingers are deep inside your pretty pussy, don’t you?”

Only being able to respond with muffled noises falling from your mouth, he took the gentle bite to his palm as a gesture of agreement. His apparent smirk curved against your jaw before he took the lobe of your ear into his mouth, sucking softly on the smooth skin. As his fingers continued to run themselves along your walls, pumping into you at a deliciously slow pace, he brought his thumb to your clit — the two sensations, added with bites and kisses he placed along your neck, created a heady combination, that brought you to the edge quicker than expected.

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He didn’t need a response, already recognizing the telltale groans beneath his palm and the contracting of muscles around his fingers. Your wetness had become audible, as he quickened his pace, flicking his wrist aggressively. Thighs clenching around his hand, hips bucking to meet his fingers, and head pressed forcefully against the pillows; you were in euphoria. As his thumb added pressure to your clit, precisely timing it with his two other fingers motions, you were crashing over the edge.

“That’s it, love,” he groaned into your ear, “come all over my fingers.” His hand tightened over your mouth as you met your release, a string of profanities and his name falling into it.

Blinking your eyes open, you exhaled through your nose forcefully, struggling to catch your breathe without using your mouth. Met with adoring, but hungry eyes and a lazy smirk, you couldn’t help smile under his hand. Pumping his fingers a few more times before removing them, he brought them to his lips, pulling them into his mouth as he had before; closing his eyes briefly as they were sucked clean. “You never disappoint,” he hummed appreciatively, removing his hand from over your mouth, “do you, pretty girl?”

Blushing, you smile at him coyly, reaching up to push his curls off his forehead, “could say the same about you, Tommy.” He was radiating smug, boyish confidence as he leaned down to kiss your waiting lips - tender from their restraint against his palm. The kiss was slow and sweet, his tongue dipping into your mouth, stained in your flavor mixed with his own. Pulling back to run the bridge of his nose along yours, he sighed contentedly.

“Guess I should let you get back to it.”

You shook your head, a hand cupping the back of his neck; after having had a taste you craved more. Tilting his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “but I thought said that you needed to finish your paper today, otherwise your professor would only give you half—“

“—okay you need to shut up.” You interjected, echoing his assertion from before as your hand came up to cover his mouth. Surprised, you felt his grin against your palm, and although you feigned a cool resolve, your eyes were alight with humor. Using your body weight, you pushed him onto his back beside you, hand remaining over his mouth as you moved to straddle his parted legs.

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen.”

Mistakes Like This. Mob!Tom Series

|| 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!

TEASER

Chapter 1 — The Meeting

“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.

Teaser. Mob!Tom Series

|| 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.

continue reading

Thinking Of You.

|| summary: headcanon about phone sex with tom, because…. a kink, oops.

|| author’s note: this wasn’t requested, but damn is it a motherfucking concept.

• okay so we all know that with tom’s job, comes a lot of traveling.

• and when he travels he becomes very lonely, especially when he doesn’t have someone(you) to keep him company.

• this wasn’t a regular thing, but if tom was gone for longer than usual, or he just had a really tough day and all he wanted was to be between your legs - this typically occurred.

• it’d start with a simple “hey, are you up?” type of message because of time zones, he didn’t know if you were awake or asleep.

• they’re a pain.

• sometimes you’d be woken up by the message because it was like three in the morning, or sometimes he just caught you when you were pulling a late-nighter.

• you’d be on your phone and see his message pop up, and reply immediately.

• because boy did you miss your man.
• and he missed you so much more.

• after your reply he’d send you some corny shit like:

• “call me, i wanna hear your voice :(”
• this is typically when he didn’t plan the phone sex to happen, it just kinda did.

• or sometimes he’d get straight to the point:

• “call me, i need you”
• this was rare but usually meant he had a rough ass day and needed to let off some stress asap.

• your heart would be pounding so fast when you’d hear the dial tone connecting your call, but as soon as you heard tom’s voice, you couldn’t be more content.

• his voice would be so raspy because it’s late where he’s at too, and his accent would sound so thick, and he’d be all sleepy sounding but really coherent and awake at the same time ,, oof.

• there’d be a brief moment of silence as y'all just listened to each other breathe, the gravity of missing one another and being so far apart really setting in.

• but tom always started the conversation.

• “hey, pretty girl. you miss me?”
• “very much.”
• he’d sigh heavily. “i miss you too… more than you know.”

• it started off as a casual call, you two would just be going back forth about each other’s day and what movie you saw recently or gossip about friends or whatever, but it would eventually take a sexual turn - which was often tom’s doing.

• “so….” he’d trail off, “whatcha wearing?”
• you’d snicker. “nothing cute. just one of your shirts and some shorts.”
• “isn’t my shirt a lucky son of bitch… what’s on underneath?”
• you’d bite your lip, knowing where this is headed and loving every minute of it. “… nothing.”

• he’d make this deep groan that was so sexy. it’d be a little bit of sexual frustration mixed with desire to just seeyou.

• “really?” he’d question, his voice low.
• “mhm,i like feeling your shirt pressed against me, it makes it easier to imagine you being here.”

• that was true, you loved having the smell and almost feel of him begin with you - even if it was just a shirt.

• “well, if i were there… what do you imagine me doing?”
• you’d smile, all sorts of scenarios rushing to your mind as you try to filter through them and pick just one. “probably kissing me.”
• “where?” his voice was just a breathy whisper.
• “well,you’d start with my lips,” your hand would reach up and run its fingers along them as you say this, “slipping your tongue into my mouth, tempting and tasting me the way you do.”
• he’d hum appreciatively as he hung onto every single word you said, his eyes fluttering shut to really picture you in the room with him.
• “you’d continue down my neck, across my chest… along my nipples.”

• he’d be so turned on by the thought that you’d hear his breath hitch in his throat, and his hand would be trailing underneath the bedsheets to stroke himself over his sweats.

• your free hand would slide under your (his) shirt to play with your breasts, your fingers rolling over your nipples - imaging that it was tom’s mouth.

• “your other hand would reach down and touch me through my panties, feeling how wet you make me.”
• “oh, babe, you’re always so wet for me.” he’d rasp, his hand teasing himself through the material of his thin sweats.
• “especially when you go down on me, god tom… the things you can do with your tongue.”

• you’d bite your lip, as your hand trailed down into your underwear, running between your folds to collect your own slick.

• “i’m so wet for you right now.”
• “darling, please.” tom would whine, his free hand coming up to his mouth, licking the palm of it, before shoving it into sweats to grip his throbbing erection. “are you touching that pretty pussy of yours, while thinking of me?”
• you could only moan in response, your mouth falling open as your fingers circle your clit.

• the sounds of your whimpers would drive tom wild as he began to stroke up and down his length, imaging that it was your mouth and not his hand.

• his occasional grunts and sharp intakes of breath would urge your fingers on, causing you to arch your back at the stimulation.

• “my hands don’t feel as good as your mouth.” you’d whisper, squeezing your lips together to hold in your moans.
• tom would growl, “don’t hold back baby, let it out. i need to hear you.”

• his hand would gain momentum, continuing to pump his length as he gave himself over to the sounds you were making and picturing the way you looked right now - touching yourself for him.

• your orgasm was building fast, your thighs tightened around your wrist, entrapping your hand as your legs began to tremble.

• “tommy-” your moans of pleasure would cut you off, your hand holding the phone would barely be able to keep itself up against your ear.
• “keeping going, princess. i’m close too, please.” he’d pant so loud, you could almost feel his hot breath on your neck.

• your fingers speed up, and you could faintly hear tom’s hand sliding up and down himself, the sound nearly causing you to cum right then and there.

• “jesus, i wish i was inside you.” he groaned, the veins in his arms bulging - abs tight, and bare chest painted in drops of sweat as he pushed himself to the edge of his orgasm at the thought and sounds of you.

• recognizing your telltale moans when on the brink of an orgasm, he’d urge you on.

• “cum for me, pretty girl.”
• “just like that, god you’re so fucking sexy.”
• “mhm, yes, you’re so hot.”

• you’d throw your head back and gasp loudly, grinding your hips down onto your fingers, riding yourself through your orgasm before pulling your hand away from your throbbing clit.

• tom would still be pumping himself, nearly over the edge, but you’d be sure to return the favor.

• “cum for me, tommy.”
• “just picture my mouth collecting all your cum, mhm i wish i was there.”
• “come on, baby boy.”

• his mouth would fall open and he’d let out a satisfied groan that would cause your insides to twitch as he came all over himself.

• the sounds of your guys’ labored breathing would fill the silence over the line as you two caught your breath and slowed your heart beats.

• tom would sigh, “jesus that was-”
• “i know.” you’d smirk, licking your lips.
• “i’m a fucking mess.”
• “wish i was there to clean you up.” you’d tease, pulling your shirt back down, re-covering your breasts.
• “me too… if it wasn’t obvious enough, i really fucking miss you.”

• your eyes would close briefly as you smiled, trying to ignore the feeling of a growing hole in your stomach in response to the pain of his absence.

• “i miss you too. like a lot.”
• “i’ll be home soon, pretty girl.”
• “soon can’t come fast enough.”
• “you’re telling me, but when i get there we can reenact that little scenario you were describing to me earlier.”

• your cheeks heated as you bit your lip, even more eager for him to be home.

• “i’m holding you to that.”
• “please do.”

• there was a long pause of comfortable silence, as you two just enjoyed the comfort of having the other person on the line, instantly available for anything you wanted to say, hearing each other breathe - almost as if you shared the same room.

• “i have to go shower and get to bed, i got an early table read tomorrow.”
• “yeah, i should turn in too.”
• “good night, love. dream of me?”
• you smiled, chuckling softly into the phone. “always.”

• with that, you settled into bed, closing your eyes and allowing sleep to wash over you.

• that night, you’d dream of tom.

Say My Name.

|| summary: tom loves hearing you s(cream)ay his name. featuring the first time tom goes down on the reader.

|| author’s note: this specific act was requested like a billion times so i hope y'all enjoy, and thanks for the patience!

Sounds of lips sucking on skin and soft moans filled the silence in the room. Tom’s shirt, as well as yours, was discarded on the floor where he had dropped them earlier. The two of you were now standing at the foot of his bed, the back of your knees pressed against the mattress, as Tom’s lips danced their way along your exposed chest.

Your heart was pounding so fast, you swore you heard it beating. Tom and you had been intimate before, but this time it felt different. It was different. In the back of your head, you knew the two of you were going to go further than you had before, but how far was really the question weighing on your mind.

A few times you’d gotten practically naked, in nothing but your bra and underwear, but something always managed to interrupt you both. After a while, you thought maybe the universe was giving you a sign that you two shouldn’t take that step. Like, maybe he was really bad at it or something? Not that that would bother you or anything, it was just something your mind conjured up to plague your imagination with.

Tom’s lips broke you from your train of thought as they latched onto your neck, urging you to tilt your head back for him. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other reached down to unbutton your jeans, fumbling with them for a bit.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your arms reached out to grasp his bare shoulders, steadying yourself; if you hadn’t, you thought you might faint. You weren’t sure what exactly was making you so damn nervous, Tom was always so gentle and slow, but in this moment you almost wanted to speed things up so you didn’t feel so exposed.

Tom took his lips off your neck, causing you to whine with an irritated huff, lifting your head to look at him. His hand moved from the back of your neck to around your throat, skimming over it, lightly squeezing, before cupping your chin and brining you into a kiss. A kiss that was needful, yet precise and steady, that all of your insecurities vanished and you knew you wanted nothing more than for this to last forever.

Kissing was the one thing you felt confident about, and your tongue danced with his, fighting for dominance. Leaning his weight into you, he forced the two of you back onto the bed, using his free arm to catch the fall. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his hips flush against yours, as your tongues explored and tasted each other’s mouths.

His hand around your chin fell to your thigh, hitching it higher up his waist, as he began grinding himself down into you. A moan escaped you, pouring into Tom’s mouth before he pulled away for air.

He kissed his way across your cheek, while you buried your hands in his unruly hair - tugging gently at the curls. “You’re so responsive darling,” he groaned as he took your ear lobe between his teeth, sucking on it briefly before releasing it and whispering, “I lovethat.”

You moaned again in response, biting your lip as Tom kissed the spot just below your ear. His hips slowed to a stop and he brought his face back to yours, hovering of you. “So sexy,” he mumbles, almost absentmindedly, kissing you quickly, before sliding his body down off the bed. He stands at your feet, admiring you briefly, then grabs your ankles and pulls you further down the mattress, so that your legs are practically hanging off of it. His fingers reach down and hook into your jeans and panties, pulling them down simultaneously in one swift motion.

You’re now in nothing but your bra, and the way that his jeans are hanging seductively off his hips, the waistband of calvin klein boxers clearly visible - makes you want nothing more than to tear him out of them. Leaning down, he begins kissing his way up your legs, starting along the outside and working his way in. Propping yourself onto your elbows, you watch as his mouth sucks and kisses its way your legs, savoring every inch of your skin.

His mouth latches onto the inside of one knee, and his hand reaches up and pushes the opposite knee down - spreading your legs apart. After a beat, his mouth continues up your thigh, kissing along the inside of the soft flesh, and repeating the same process on the other leg. Tom’s lips hover over your core, peeking up through long lashes to meet your eyes.

Holding your stare, he lowers his mouth down onto you, licking a long flat stroke, spreading your lips open. “Oh Tom,” you groan, arching your back and tangling your hands in his hair, “yessssss.” Urging him on, his tongue continues up until it reaches your sensitive blub of nerves, which Tom pulls into his mouth - sucking on it softly.

“Fuck.” One of your hands reaches up and runs the back of it along your lips, allowing you to bite down on two of your fingers to hold in your moans. Tom takes his mouth off you briefly, causing you to groan in frustration. “Ah-ah,” he tisks, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from your mouth, “I wanna hear you.” He kisses his way along your inner thighs, spreading your moisture, before returning his lips to your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you briefly.

“Oh my God, Jesus.” Your eyes flutter shut and your head falls, hitting the mattress with a thud as the coil in your stomach turns, all your nerve-endings rushing to your core. One of his hands cups the top of your thigh, hooking it over his shoulder, while the other slowly slides his middle, then index finger into you. You groan loudly, bucking your hips against Tom’s face causing him to chuckle against you. “You like that, pretty girl?” He mumbles into the soft skin of your thigh, his hot breath tickling you.

“Yes, you’re so good!” You cry, as his fingers continue to slowly pump in and out of you, stretching you open, before curling inside of you and running along your G-spot. “Holy,” your mouth falls open as Tom’s tongue licks from his fingers back to your clit, the mixture of the two sensations causing your legs to shake.

You begin grinding yourself down onto his face and fingers, desperate for faster-deeper penetration. His hand on the top of your thigh shifts, hooking itself over your waist to keep your hips from moving. “Tommy,” you whine.

“Say that again,” he rasps, “say my name.” As you call out his name again, his mouth moans around you, the vibration bouncing off your clit in the most spectacular way. Your insides clench around his fingers and you feel your legs tightening onto Tom’s shoulders, nearing you on the brink of your orgasm. “T-Tom, I’m gonna-” you’re cut off by your own moans, as Tom’s fingers increase their speed and his mouth begins sucking hard on your clit, circling his tongue around it at the same time.

The grip you have on his hair tightens, pulling at it roughly, as your hips desperately try to buck against his face but his arm holds you securely in place. Your orgasm washes over you like warm summer rain, starting from your core and working it’s way up and down your entire body. A spew of profanities and Tom’s name fall from your mouth as he rides you through your orgasm - slowing his fingers and flicking his tongue lightly over your clit.

Your eyes blink open, and Tom removes his fingers from you, causing you to wince slightly. Looking down at him, you watch as he takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, savoring the flavor before crawling over you. Leaning down he kisses you quickly, slipping his tongue into your mouth so you can taste yourself stained on him. He moans softly, as your arms hook around his neck, holding him close.

“That was so hot.” You mumble, breaking away from the kiss. He smirks down at you with boyish-arrogance, a confident glimmer in his eye. “I had no idea you could make such sexy noises. Or that you tasted so good.” He kisses you a few more times, as you grin from ear-to-ear, trying to contain a laugh. “What?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in question, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“I just,” you burst into a fit of giggles as the thought plays in your head, “I just can’t believe I actually thought you might be bad at this.” Snorting, you throw an arm over your face, surrending yourself to the humor of it. “Bad?” Tom questions, “you thought I’d be bad?” He sounds amused, but also slightly offended.

Uncovering your face, you reach up and cup his cheeks, stroking them with your thumb reassuringly. “No, no, not like that. I just always thought it was weird that we never got to do anything, so I thought maybe the universe was telling me something. But clearly, I was very wrong.” He smirks down at you again, licking his lips.

“Well, you know I have all sorts of skills you don’t even know about yet…” he tails off kissing along your jaw, “and I’d love to show you how bad I can be.” Tom teases, wriggling his eyebrows at you mischievously. Your mouth pops open in surprise, but you smile and nod your head enthusiastically. “Show me what you’re made of Holland.”

The Night Before.

|| summary: the events that preceded the imagine so, what’s for breakfast. hope you enjoy.

|| author’s note: this was infinitely requested, i hope i didn’t disappoint!

part 1

“Fuck.” Tom grunted under his breath, as he shifted eagerly in his seat beside you. Your hand was in his lap, stroking him through his dress pants under the guise of the long table cloth. Originally, he had grabbed ahold of your wrist in attempts to stop to you, but his grip was now loosened, guiding your hand at the pace he wanted. His other arm was hung across the back of your chair, his thumb stroking over the smooth skin of your exposed shoulder in encouragement.

Eyeing him up and down, you took his features into photographic memory. The way his head was slightly hung back, eyes closed, bottom lip between his teeth, and how his hand was now just running along the top of yours gently - allowing you free range over him. His black suit was perfectly tailored, clinging to his muscles in the most spectacular way. The suit jacket was off, hanging on the back of his chair, allowing you the beautiful sight of him in a white button up. What is it about men in white collar shirts and bow ties?

Glancing around the room, checking to make sure you two still have your cover, you find everyone’s eyes are on the best man as he gives his speech. The couple getting married were friends of your mom, the bride was on her third marriage, but you know what they say - third time’s the charm, right? Your mother had chastised you even before the ceremony, telling you to leave your judgements and opinions at the door, but it was hard not to find the whole thing a bit ridiculous.

When the couple said their I do’s, Tom had leaned over to you and made a snide comment along the lines of, “I can’t wait to say ‘I do’, to you… hopefully only once.” Once the celebrations commenced, Tom and you were bored out of your minds, and after a few too many drinks, he decided on playing a game of cat and mouse. You agreed, and here you were.

Earlier, Tom had teased you while on the dance floor, ridding his fingers up the back of your short dress, running them along the thin fabric of your panties. With the music blaring you were able to let quiet moans escape you, and the floor was crowded enough that no one suspected anything about the way you were leaning the back of your head against his shoulder - assuming the two of you were just dancing. Tom was also very good at being discrete when it came to this game, which is why he almost always won. Before you could cum, he took his fingers off of you and almost immediately after that, the best man requested to make a toast.

Now, you were finally in a position to get some revenge, and that’s exactly what you were doing. You watched as his features changed the more and more excited he got, and when you saw him coming close to cumming, you pulled your hand off of him, forcing him to try and conceal his frustrated groan as cough. He glared over at you, using his free hand to brush his hair back into place. Smiling sweetly at him, you leaned over and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear, “don’t tease me next time.”

Tom raised his eyebrows at you, his face only inches from yours. “Are you threatening me?” He asked, tilting his head to one side. “Maybe.” You challenged, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh,” he half-chuckled, “that’s a dangerous game, darling. You sure you wanna play?” You pursed your lips, pretending to think about it, before nodding. He shook his head in disbelief, shifting back in his seat, giving his attention to the best man.

For the rest of the outrageously long speech, Tom didn’t look at you once, nor did he acknowledge your touch when you brushed fingertips with him as he reached for his champagne glass. The only sign he gave you to let you know that he was still playing, was that damned thumb on your shoulder; rhythmically stroking over it again and again. When the speaker finally concluded his toast, Tom took you by surprise by abruptly standing to his feet and offering you his hand. You cautiously took it, raising to your feet as he placed his jacket over your shoulders, and lead you out of the room, past the tables of people, over the grass yard, and to the parking lot.

You didn’t need to question him on what he was doing, or why, or where you were going… you knew. He brought you out here because he needed to feed his hunger, the hunger the two of you shared and had been yearning to be satisfied all night.

Huridly, he searched through his pocket for the keys, and as soon as he unlocked the car and opened the backseat door, he turned to face you. When his eyes met yours, and his mouth popped open slightly, the air between you practically crackled under the intensity of the stare.

Before he could say anything, you cupped his face and pulled him into a feverish kiss. You felt his grin against your lips, as his hand came down and gripped your waist - pulling you flush against his body. In that moment you didn’t care if anyone had seen you two leave in a hurry, or if they knew what you were planning on doing, you just wanted him. Somehow, managing to not break the kiss, he guided the two of you into the car, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

He reaches behind you to shut the car door before his hands fall to your ass, squeezing it roughly; causing you to gasp and allow his tongue access into your mouth. As your tongues explored and caressed the inside of each other’s mouths, one of his hands came up to grip your throat, gently tightening around it before cupping your chin to control the kiss. 

You began grinding your hips down onto him, reveling in the feel of his erection against the thin fabric of your panties. One of his hands on your ass moved up your back to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down; he let go of your chin so both of his hands could simultaneously pull down the straps of your dress - revealing your breasts to him.

“God, you drive me crazy.” He growled against your mouth, roughly biting your bottom lip, pulling it down, before flattening a hand against your chest to push you backwards slightly, giving him enough room to lean over and pull one of your breasts into his mouth. While his lips fixated on one nipple, his free hand reaches up to play with other, coaxing the most glorious sounds out of you. Your hands fist in his hair, running through the sticky curls, pulling desperately to urge him on.

“You like when my mouth is on you, don’t you baby?” He asks, his words slightly muffled against the skin of your breast. You nod, biting your lip. “Tell me.” He demands, his hand stopping as he watches you intently.

“I love when your mouth is on me, you make me feel so good.” You groan, as he takes your breast back into his mouth; moaning around it, the vibration causing your eyes to flutter shut. The combination of his mouth and hands on you, paired with the grinding of your hips, brings you to the brink of an orgasm. Just as you begin to feel the build, Tom pulls his hand and mouth off of you, leaving you a whimpering mess. He does this several more times before you finally begin to plea with him, “Tommy, don’t tease me. Please.” You whine.

“I thought you wanted to play?” He questions, arching a brow at you. “I can’t, no more please. Just fuck me.” You beg. Smirking at you arrogantly, his hands reach for his belt. “Take your panties off.” He orders.

Doing as your told, you slide off him and onto the passenger seat, quickly removing your panties and discarding them on the floor. Once he’s pulled his pants off enough to free his erection, he reaches for you, offering you a steady hand.

“Come here.” He breathes, pulling you back onto his lap. As you straddle him, he uses one hand to align himself with your enterance, while the other cups your backside. Leaning forward, he kisses you as you slowly sink down onto him, the two of you groaning loudly into each other’s mouths.

“Ride me, darling. Please.” He pants, his hands falling to your hips. Placing both hands on his shoulders, you begin to slowly lift yourself up and down on top of him - grinding your hips back and forth. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he watches you steadily lift then sink yourself back onto him. “So sexy.” He encourages, one of his hands coming up to brush your hair back from your face.

With that boost of confidence, you pick up your pace, circling your hips each time you come down on him. “Oh.” He moans loudly, tilting his head back against the seat, his eyes squeezing shut as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth. You throw your head back and gasp when his hips snap up to meet yours, hitting you deeper than before and creating a euphoric rhythm.

Sweat builds on your forehead, and the car becomes unbearably hot as you build yourself closer to your orgasm. One of Tom’s hands leaves your hip, and moves between the two of you to your clit, circling around it with his thumb. “Tom,” you pant, “I’m gonna-” He leans forward and takes your pleas into his mouth, kissing you with passion.

The two heady sensations of him inside you, and his thumb pressing on your clit, sends you over the brink of your orgasm. Your hand reaches out and slams against the window as a spew of profanities fall from your mouth. Tom reaches his own climax as your insides clench around him, and he moans out your name, before his face collapses against your chest.

As the two of yours breathing calms, and your heart beats slow, you remain like this; his head on your chest, one of your hands stroking through his hair, and his arms around you. After what feels like a life time, he kisses your skin and leans back to look at you. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He states in awe.

You can’t help but laugh, feeling anything but, “I’m sure I look like a sweaty mess.” His hand reaches up and strokes your cheek with the back of his knuckles, “A beautiful sweaty mess.” He clarifies and kisses you sweetly.

“Now, we should probably get back to the 'party’.” He sighs, fixing his bow tie, as you pull up the straps of your dress to cover yourself. “Or,” you propose, “we could go home and have our own little party. What do you say, you wanna have some fun?”

He tilts his head, grinning at you knowingly. “I do.”

kingsholland masterlist

Hi, welcome to my masterlist. I only write headcanons, imagines, or series about Tom - as of right now. All my writings are in order from the oldest to the latest releases under that specific category. Enjoy.

Please do not repost, copy and paste, or claim any of my work as your own. Reblogs are fine, but if you’re going to repost my work please ask permission + give credit.

Feel free to give me feedback or request writings, here.

Smut

•you have no idea what i’d like to do to that mouth

•well that escalated quickly

•so, what’s for breakfast

•one hell of a way to be woken up

•mornings like this

•the night before

Blurbs/One Shots

•imagine tom above you…

•french kisses

•not that drunk

•say my name

•take a break

Headcanons

•that time of the month

•i miss you kinda sex

•hypeman

•kissing you

•hands

•thinking of you

Series

• mistakes like this - mob!tom series:teaser,chapter one

Videos

•idk what this is but…

•tom doing them things i like: THAT

•birthday boy

•tom ends mackie

Gifs/Photos

•boy if you don’t

•blonde tom

Hands.

|| summary: a headcanon about tom’s hands because… it’s a kink of mine, oops.

|| author’s note: based off of this post(x), be sure to feast your eyes first ;)

• one of the most noteable features about tom’s hands, is his long and dexterous fingers.

• which we all know are very strong because… gymnastics??

• he loves to intertwine your fingers with his, occasionally playing with the tips of yours.

• often times his fingers would find their way into your hair, running through it, massaging against your scalp.

• or sometimes he just liked to simply play with it.

• whenever the two of you would be napping, your head on his chest, arm slung across his waist, he’d be running his fingers gently up and down the length of your arm.

• drawing imaginary shapes and following every mark and curve he had memorized.
• sometimes he’d make you chuckle when he’d use his index and middle finger to “walk” across your arm - doing a little irish jig with them.

• he’d also love to outline your face, while you slept.

• tracing over the bridge of your nose, across your lips, over your eyelids, along your eyebrows, dancing their way across your cheeks before repeating the process.
• it’ssoooooorelaxing.

• during cuddles, his head would be on your chest, and his fingers would lift your shirt and run along your stomach.

• following along the waistband of your panties, to your naval, up along your ribs, just under your breasts - then back down.
• sometimes they’d venture even further. slipping into your panties…

• his hands themselves were slightly callus, especially along the knuckles from boxing, but they were always very warm and gentle.

• the boy could never keep his hands to himself they were always on you.

• either his hand was in yours, or around your waist, or grasping your thigh, or lightly gripping the back of your neck - massaging it slightly-
• (sometimes the front of your neck too, squeezing your throat softly,, uhm)
• - or on your ass.

• anywhere and everywhere he could touch you, he would.

• the two favorite places for his hands to be, was either on your ass, or thigh.

• when his hands were on your ass, he’d squeeze your cheeks playfully, just enjoying the feel of you filling his palms.

• the boy would give the best booty rubs!!
• his fingers digging into the sore muscles of your ass, working out all the tension and stress they’re put under throughout the day.

• he wasn’t really into spanking as a serious kink, but boy did he love to slap your ass to get a reaction out of you.

• either quick slaps as you walked by in order to make you squeal, or a few harsh paced slaps when you’d been teasing him all night and he wanted to punish you.
• or if he was doing you from behind, he’d pull your hips back against him, smacking you once to make sure that you were ready.

• he loves resting his hand on your thigh, so that his fingers are just between one leg and the other, right where your skin is the warmest.

•heloved when your legs were freshly shaved.

• he’d run his hand along the length of your thigh, tracing his hand all the way down to your knee and back - reveling in how smooth and soft your skin felt.
• this is where is hand almost always was when driving.

• one of his (your) biggest turn-ons, is when you’d suck his fingers.

• sometimes it’d be casual or intended to get a reaction out of him, but either way it drove him crazy.

• you’d be eating something messily, and he’d lean over to wipe a piece of fallen food from the corner of your mouth, and before he could pull his hand away, you’d grab ahold of it, pulling his finger into your mouth.

• he’d sit back, his jaw slightly ajar, eyes fixated on your mouth, as his thumb was slowly slipped in and out between your lips.

• after a brief moment, you’d release his hand and smile at him sweetly, playing naïve to the fact that he’s totally turned on, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

• other times, it’s completely intentional. like when he’d place his fingers on your bottom lip, telling you to “suck”.

• he usually did this when he’d just finished fingering you (or right before, having you lubricate them for him) and wanted you to taste yourself on his fingers.
• “here,darling” he’d say, running index and middle finger along your lips, “see how good you taste.”
• or he’d put his fingers in his own mouth, closing his eyes, as he sucked and savored the taste of you off of them.

• hand holding for him was either casual -

• absentmindedly grabbing your hand, pulling it into his lap, running his thumb over your knuckles.

• - or an extreme form of intimacy.

• especially hand holding during sex.
• tightly intertwining his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head - allowing you squeeze his hands vs the bedsheets.

• his hands always knew when and where to touch you, in order to have you a wriggling mess.

• like when he’d be going down on you, and he could tell by the way you were grinding your hips down onto his tongue, that you were desperate for deeper penetration than his tongue was providing.
• so he’d slip two of his long slim fingers into you with ease, curling them so that he could hit your g-spot. ughhhh you’d be cumming in notime.

• his hands also loved to play with your boobs. cupping and squeezing them gently. (or roughly depending on the mood)

• his fingers knew the right way to play with your nipples - twisting and pulling them so that your back was arched so far off the bed, he’d have to use the weight of his body to push you back down on to the mattress.

• let’s just say that his fingers were very very very skilled, and he was able to introduce you to a whole new world of pleasure with them.

okayyyyyy but tom’s hands need to be appreciated more, so if you have a tom kink feel free to send me shit about his hands because phew.

Not That Drunk.

|| summary: just a blurb about drunk tom being adorable!

|| author’s note: mainly fluffy but some slight smutty themes… as per usual.

There was an intense inner struggle going on in your mind for the past ten minutes now, not yet sure which way you were leaning to most, but being kept awake non the less. It started with a “bump in the night” kinda of sound that had startled you awake, and seeing as you were alone, expect for Tessa who was soundly asleep at your feet, you were clearly hesitant to go and investigate the situation independently.

Nevertheless, your thoughts became victim to the dark inner workings of imagination, and conjured up ever possible break in-murder-rape-kidnapping scenario imaginable. It left your mind wide awake, hearing on high alert, and your body completely immobile. After the extensive period of deafening silence, which felt much much longer than simply ten minutes, there was another sound; this time, just down the hall from your bedroom door.

Paranoid, you shot out of bed, startling Tessa awake, and hit your knees to the floor - attempting to conceal yourself behind the side of the bed opposite to the door. Footsteps dragged and stumbled down the hall, giving the illusion of more than one person walking, making you all the more uneasy. Tessa, who was now approaching the bedroom door cautiously, gave you a new sense of appreciation for her being here.

That is until she started sniffing at the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor, and wagging her tail ferociously. Just as you were about to ridicule her for not being a good gaurd dog, she began to whine the way she does when Tom gets home.

Before you could put two and two together, Tom’s looming figure stumbled through the door. “Oh, hey Tess.” Tom giggled bending over to pet her, nearly falling over in the process but somehow retaining enough balance to hang over himself.

Tess barked playfully and jumped onto his legs, her tail desperately trying to keep up with her excitement. “Sh, Tess, we don’t want s'to wakey mummy.” He chuckled. At this point, he turns his head to check and make sure you’re still asleep, standing upright when he finds the bed unoccupied. “Where’d she go? Tint tell me she weaving.” He slurs, asking Tessa genuinely - as if she knows the answer.

Embrassed, you slowly stand to your feet, hoping to crawl back into bed before Tom notices you and just assumes he missed you in a drunken haze. “Baby,” he exclaims, “where were you?” He stretches out his arms to you, making a grabbing motion with his hands, beckoning you forward. Not being able to resist his drunken adorableness, you crawl over the bed, sitting up on your knees and wrapping your arms around his neck.

His hands fall to your pajama short-clad ass, which he squeezes playfully. Tom is always pretty flirtatious with you when he’s drunk, but even particularly more so when you’re dressed in something skimpy; tonight that would be just a tanktop and pajama shorts. His head falls to your shoulder, kissing the exposed skin before turning his face into your neck, and inhaling deeply.

At such close proximity, he began to fill your senses; he smelt faintly of his signature cologne and hair gel, but the harsh stench of alcohol was a bit overwhelming - nearly masking the two other scents. “How much did you drink, exactly?” You question, running a hand through his sticky hair.

“Why? ’M not even da drunk.” He mumbles into the skin of your neck, his words slightly muffled. “Not even that drunk, huh?” You retort sarcastically.

“Mm-hm,” he nods, leaning back, “only this much.” Using his index finger and thumb he indicates that he only had a “tiny” amount, and when you give him a questioning look, he purses his lips and reluctantly extends his fingers apart a bitmore.

He drops his hand back onto your ass, rejoining the other, as he leans down to kiss you. It’s a somewhat sloppy peck, given his intoxicated state, but you enjoy it all the same. His fingers dig into your cheeks, causing you to squeal in surprise opening your mouth to him, and he takes the opportunity to dip his tongue into it.

You respond to the kiss, massaging and flicking your tongue along his, coaxing sweet low moans from him, that pour into your mouth like fresh spring rain. He tastes of mixed alcoholic beverages, peppermint, and your favorite flavor: Tom. Slowly pulling away from the kiss, he pauses, catching his breath.

“I want you.” He whispers against your lips, and the desire in his plea sends chills up your spine. Before you can respond, his hands are reaching for the tie on your shorts, drunkenly fumbling with it.

His lips attach to your neck, soundly sucking their way down it, and you place your hands on his shoulders in attempt to push him back. “Tom…” You start, but as his mouth finds its way to your sweet spot and starts sucking, you moan loudly and tilt your head to side, giving him easier access.

Using the weight of his body, Tom pushes you back flat on the bed, crawling over you. As one of his hands reaches for his belt, you have a moment of clarity and grab his hand to stop him. “Tom, we can’t.” You huff, licking your swollen lips and attempting to sound as stern as possible.

“What?” Tom pulls away from your neck, a pout stapled on his face. “Why?” He whines. You can’t help but smile at his expense, fully enjoying his adorable pout. Reaching a hand up, you push fallen tendrils of hair off his face, stroking through them briefly. “You’re drunk. You need sleep.”

He sighs heavily, opening his mouth to argue but is cut off by a long yawn. “I’m fine. ’M not even tired.” He states matter-of-factly, and you’re not sure whether he’s trying to convince you or himself of that. Rolling your eyes, you lightly push his shoulders, and he lets you roll him onto his back, hitting the mattress with a huff.

“We need to get you undressed.” You breathe, sitting up and reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Now we’re talking.” Tom smirks, his hands reaching out and grasping your hips, pulling you onto his lap, so you’re straddling him.

“I’m only undressing you, because you reek of alcohol.” You clarify, as he sits up, lifting his upper body off the bed so you can pull his shirt off. He raises his arms to make the process of taking his shirt off easier, and mumbles something incoherent; but if you had to guess, it was something along the lines of “That was mean”.

Once his shirt is off and discarded on the floor, you scoot down his lap, finishing the work he started on his belt earlier. Surprisingly, Tom remains silent, no flirtatious comment or sexual innuendo utters from his lips. Pulling the belt through the loops of his pants, you toss it aside, and move to the button and zipper - undoing them both before standing, to get a better angle, to tug his jeans down.

“Little help?” You ask, attempting and failing to the pull the jeans down again. “Tom?” You call to no avail, physical or otherwise. Groaning, you look up at Tom expectantly to find his eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar, soft snores slipping past his lips.

“Seriously?” You chided to yourself quietly, before attempting one last time to pull his pants down and conceding to give up with a heavy, defeated sigh. Since Tom is laying across the bed, you’re not able to get him under the covers, nor are you able to get yourself under them.

Lifting his head, you tuck a pillow under it, and grab a spare blanket from the closet to cover him with. Placing the duvet over the two of you, you snuggle into his warm welcoming side. You rest your face and hand on his bare chest, placing a quick kiss on his jaw before settling into him. Idly, you notice that Tessa has joined the two of you, resting on Tom’s opposite hip.

Tom stirs in his sleep briefly, before instinctively wrapping an arm around your back, holding you close to his side. The sound of his steady heart beat under your ear, and the gentle rocking of his chest as he takes in quiet breathes, lulls you back into a deep sleep.

Tony Stark (dad) x Reader (daughter) x Peter Parker (boyfriend) x Quentin Beck (villain)

A/N: after seeing Spider-Man far from home i definitely needed a breather of fluff to get over it, but not gonna lie, this includes some angst too. also sorry for the random uploads, i’ve been working and running errands constantly but writing when i can, usually on my novel, but sometimes on fanfics. love you all. 

this is part 2 of Anyone Else: which you can find here

          Closing the algebra textbook on your bed, you sighed heavily, glad you were finally done with your homework for the night. Thankfully Tony had allowed you to drag your textbooks to the dinner table so you could study while you ate, and that had allowed you to get to bed at a halfway decent time. You shoved the textbook and notebook off of your bed into your bookbag, making a mental note that you’d clean it up in the morning, then shrugged off your shorts, tossed them in the hamper, and rolled over in your sheets. With the snap of your fingers, your lights turned off, and you smiled a bit to yourself, glad that the work for the day was done and you could finally relax. Your brain was exhausted, mind filled up with different equations and theorems, and as you closed your eyes, you wanted nothing more than peace and quiet until tomorrow’s sunrise. That was, until you heard a knock. You groaned, sitting up, wiping the grogginess out of your eyes. “Tony? Seriously?” you whined. “I was already half asleep.” That’s when the knock came again, and you snapped the lights on, confused as to why the door hadn’t opened. “Dad?” You whipped your head to the window, eyes widening at the masked boy on the other side of the glass.

               “Hey!” he waved to you, glad to see you were awake and attentive, but you were ever the latter.

               “Peter?” you hissed, flinging off your sheets and racing to the window. “What the hell?” You unlatched the sill and slid it up, staring at him, still bewildered and frustrated. “Peter, it’s a school night! God, school night? Forget that, that doesn’t even matter right now.” You shook your head, staring at him once again. “My dad is literally going to kill you!”

               “And lose one of his best avengers?” he teased. “Nah, don’t think so, y/n.”

               “Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes, allowing him to climb into your bedroom, still donned in his suit. “So what’s the special occasion, Spider-Man?” You folded your arms, looking him up and down, trying not to blush. You had been dating Peter Parker for almost two weeks now, but still, every time you saw him in his red suit, you couldn’t help but try to hide a squeal. It was sometimes hard to picture the ever amazing Spider-Man and your nerdy dork of a boyfriend Peter as the same person.

               “I wanted to visit you,” he shrugged, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other outside of school.”

               “It’s cause you work all the time,” you frowned, poking a playful finger into his chest. “With your superhero adventures and all of that.” You huffed. “Honestly sometimes I think you spend more time around my dad than you do me.”

               “Not my choice,” he put his hands up in surrender. “Trust me.”

               “Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, finding yourself crawling up into his lap, linking your arms around his neck, smiling. “You should take your mask off so you can kiss me.”

               “Hmm?” he tilted his head to the side, making you giggle.

               “You heard me,” you told him shyly and he laughed a bit too before reaching up to tug his mask off of his head, exposing his messy brown curls and his tired eyes. “Aw baby, you look exhausted.”

               “I’m fine, really,” he reassured, shaking his head. “Just a late night mission, that’s all.”

               “I’m sorry,” you looked down, feeling guilty. “You probably don’t have time for me, you know. You’re already busy with school and the whole Spider-Man thing…”

               “Hey,” Peter lifted your chin to look at him, saddened. “Don’t say that, y/n. I love you. I will always have time for you. Even though it might not be as much time as I want, there will be time. I’ll make time. Anything for you.”

               “Okay,” you managed a small smile. “I love you too.”

               He leaned in for a kiss and you melted into him, letting yourself relax, his hands pressing into your back. He was right. You hadn’t seen him outside of school for a couple days now, and it was eating at you alive. Much less, most of the time he was around, Tony was watching both of you like a hawk. “I can’t stay long,” he apologized. “I still need to finish my homework.”

               “Just stay here,” you begged, wrapping your arms around him tight, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Forget the homework.”

               “I know. I wish I could, love,” he hushed. “But Aunt May is waiting for me and she still thinks I’m over at Ned’s.”

               “Alright,” you sighed in defeat. “Well… promise to visit me like this sometime again?”

               “Promise,” he nodded.

               Peter gave you one last kiss before you slid off of his lap and handed him his mask, watching as he fixed it on and climbed out the window, then shot a web and swung away. You watched half in awe and half in longing, wishing he could’ve stayed even maybe just a minute more. He started to disappear into the distance of skyscrapers and towers, and you slid down the window, crawling back into your bed and resting your eyes, ready for school tomorrow.

                “You’re not going to school,” is the very first thing that comes out of Tony’s mouth when you arrive downstairs the next morning.

               “What?” you stare at him blinking, still clutching the straps of your bookbag. “Seriously? Do you know how late I stayed up last night working on those math problems?”

               “We’ve got a mission and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you home alone, so I’m taking you with us,” he stated. “Get packed. We leave in two hours.”

               “Is Peter coming?” you asked eagerly and he looked at you, disappointed.

               “It’s not a family vacation with your boyfriend, alright kiddo? It’s a serious situation we need to take care of,” he scolded. “Go up and get your bags. I’m taking you with us for safety reasons.”

               “Safety reasons,” you mocked under your breath as you walked away and you could practically envision him scowl.

               “You better behave young lady or someone’s going to get their window privileges taken away,” he warned and you stopped dead in your tracks, eyes wide.

               “Excuse me?” you turned around, shocked.

               “What?” he stared back at you, a bit prideful in himself. “You didn’t think I’d catch little Spidey-Boy crawling through your window last night?”

               “Dad,” you groaned, frustrated. “What did I say about invading my privacy?”

               “What did I say about the rules?” he cocked his head to the side, obviously annoyed. “I told you no seeing the Parker kid after midnight. And he’s definitely not allowed in your room.”

               “He wasn’t in my room!” you tried to protest with a lie and he narrowed his eyes.

               “Your window is part of your room,” he argued. “And last I checked, two in the morning is past midnight.”

               “Fine,” you grumbled, turning on your heels and walking back towards the elevator to go upstairs and pack.

               To be completely honest, you weren’t really sure where you were going, but from what Tony had told you, it seemed like the rest of the Avengers would be there. You’ve met them on a couple occasions, but Tony highly discouraged getting too involved. You understood to an extent, but you didn’t see what was so harmful about having a little fun. You were already dating one of them, and the daughter of another, why couldn’t you just be friends with the Hulk or Black Widow? What was so wrong about that? You sighed, pondering about it as you flung open your suitcase and looked for a couple good outfits to bring along. You didn’t know whether it would be warm or cold, so you decided to pack for both just to be safe.

               That’s when there was a knock on your door and you sighed once again, trudging to go open it. “Who are you?” you stared at the two men donned in suits strangely, seeing as you didn’t recognize them from anywhere before.

               “Come with us,” they simply stated, and you raised an eyebrow, twice as confused.

               “Did Tony send you? Are you going to take my bags?” you inquired.

               They shared a look, then nodded, going back to facing you. “Uh yeah, Tony told us to take your bags. You’re coming with us,” the first one announced, holding out a hand to grab your suitcase.

               “Oh,” you gave a second look, unsure at first, but noted the professionalism and the suits. “Alright.” You handed over your luggage and stepped out the door with them, wondering where Tony or Happy would be. They usually were right by your side during these types of excursions.

               “Keep up,” the second suited man encouraged, noting the way you seemed to be distracted as you followed them down the hall.

               Before you knew it, they were escorting you into the back of a limousine, then to a building. “Soooo…” you drew out the word as they took you down a series of hallways. “Where are we going?”

               “You’ll see soon enough,” one of them mumbled.

               “The way my dad made it out to be I thought we’d be going to London or Tokyo or something,” you laughed and they paused, turning around.

               “Your dad?” they asked at the same time.

               “Well yeah, Tony,” you clarified. “Uh, you know. I’m y/n. Y/n Stark.”

               “Right,” the first one nodded carefully, although looked surprised at the information. “Just down this hall, it’s the last door.”

               “You all keep acting strange,” you hummed. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

               “Just go through the door,” the second one groaned, opening it up and shoving you through. The doors clicked locked behind you and your eyes widened, seeming to realize this was probably a trap. Goddamn it, y/n, you were so oblivious sometimes. You instantly turned around, miserably trying to flail open the door, fingers gripped tightly at the handles, but you heard a tsk, tsk noise from behind and you rescinded, facing another suited man across a desk, this one with an aftershave and slicked back hair, looking particularly smug.

               “Ms. Stark now, is it?” he smirked, making you feel particularly uneasy. “Well, I thought you were just Spider-Man’s girlfriend, but now, what’s this? Iron Man’s daughter? How riveting.” He gestures to the chairs gathered around the conference table. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

               Panic seized your body at the realization and you instantly pressed the charm on the bracelet Tony had gifted you, the one he had urged you to wear in case of any emergency. He had crafted it himself with a tracker and alert system in case you ever were in a time like this. You clicked the button three times, expecting it to light up like it usually would, but nothing happened. You cursed, shaking and sweating, clicking it wildly, but the man just threw his head back in a laugh. You paused, looking at him, disgusted and terrified all at the same time.

               “That pretty little technology won’t work here,” he chuckled. “Give up already, there’s no escape. Nobody’s coming to save you, princess. Not your Spider-man boyfriend, and definitely not your Iron Man dad. It’s just you and me now. So why don’t you have a seat and let’s talk this one out?”

               “What do you want?” you scowled, crossing your arms, refusing to sit down.

               “Let’s be civil now,” he narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t want things to get ugly.”

               “Who are you?” you pestered him with another question, sick to your stomach that you were stupid enough to find yourself in such a shitty situation. Tony would be so disappointed.

               “Quentin,” he gave a sinister smile. “Quentin Beck.”

               “Am I supposed to know who you are or something?” you tilted your head to the side, clearly unimpressed. “Because I really don’t.”

               “I used to work for your daddy’s company,” he teased. “Stark Industries? Ring a bell?”

               “Yeah I’m not a dumbass,” you argued. “I know his company. But what does that have to do with me being here?”

               “You, my darling,” he begins, hardening his expression and pulling out his wrist, staring at it as if to check the time, but that’s when you realize the contraption fixed to his arm. “You are my chess piece.” He clicks a button and the entire scenery shifts, conference tables and seats fading away, making you scream and curse in confusion, until you focus upon a new scene with a dark sky. You’re in an alleyway.  Alone. “You didn’t want to take the easy route, so I guess you’ll have to play my little game, hmm?” His voice echoed in your ears, but you didn’t know where it was coming from. He was nowhere to be found.

               Surveying the area, you began to notice someone at the very end of the alley, a small boy with messy brown hair carrying a bookbag. As you approached, he looked familiar, and you began to run to him, eyes widening at the connection. “Peter!” you called his name, running faster towards him. “Peter!” But no matter how fast it seemed you ran, you were getting nowhere, the distance between you refusing to lessen. You called his name louder, hoping he would hear you, but a dark shadowy figure came into view at the end of the alley, pulling some sort of weapon out of his pocket, pointing it at the boy. “No! Fuck, Peter- no!” You ran as fast as you can, your lungs seeming to collapse and your legs burning with exhaustion, but it happened before your eyes. A zap of blue lightning seemed to shoot out of the weapon, causing the boy to tumble to the ground clutching his chest, then crumble to the gravel motionless while the shadowy figure walked away. Tears formed in your eyes, you screaming out, still trying to run towards him, but it was no use. He slowly closed his eyes, lips parted open, still. Was he-? No. He couldn’t be.

               As you ran faster you found the scene changing, and you were atop a glass bridge, high above a city full of lights, stomach feeling queasy. “What?” you looked around, panicked, wondering what had happened to Peter and the alleyway. You stared down the side of the bridge, head spinning. You must have been at least several miles up, everything was so small. You took a step back from the railing and felt the brittle glass underneath you crack, your heartbeat pounding in your chest. “No, no, no, no-” the glass shattered and you felt yourself falling down below, shutting your eyes tight, screaming as you fell, until you opened your eyes, the dropping sensation stopped all of a sudden.

               Everything was gone. You were in your bed. “Huh,” you laughed a bit to yourself. “God, I’m glad that was just a weird ass dream.” You sat up from where you were laying down, looking around to make sure, and you saw everything in place like usual. You sighed of relief, then heard a tapping at the glass, raising an eyebrow and going to check. It was Peter. Your eyes lit up and you raced towards the window, opening it up and greeting him with a smile, tugging him into your room. “God, I’m so glad you’re here,” you practically cried from happiness, embracing him tightly. “I was so confused, and I thought you were hurt, but I guess-” Suddenly he shoved you back and you paused, offended and scared, looking at the masked boy you loved. “Peter what are you doing?” He shot a web straight at you, pinning you the wall, practically suffocating. “Peter! What the fuck?” He shot another web. And another. And another. Each one suffocating you more and more. You felt like you might pass out each minute. Why was he doing this? That’s when he reached up to pull down his mask and you saw a ghastly face, skin peeled off, eyes bleeding, jagged teeth, a monstrous sight. You screamed and closed your eyes but when you woke up…. You were back where you began.

               You struggled to catch your breath, staring at the man who had caused you such worry, Quentin Beck. “You fucking prick!” you shouted, clutching your chest, trying to keep calm. Your head still felt like it was spinning, a dizzying sensation coursing through your body as you tried to reel back into reality. “Why would you do that? Why would you mess with my head like that? Why would you-”

               “Oh Ms. Stark,” he simply chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t you know? The game has just begun.”

               “Stop!” you raced towards him but it was no use, his fingers already tapping at the device on his wrist, scenery changing.

               Though this time, it was at an incredible pace. There was Tony, screaming at you, telling you he hated you, that he wished you had never come crawling back to him. There was your childhood bedroom, the screaming from your mother and stepfather being heard echoing down the halls. There was your school, bullies pushing you into lockers and tugging at your hair, laughing at you and calling you names. There were monsters from your nightmares, your worst fears come to life, visions so terrifying you felt as if paralyzed. One after another, small snippets crushed your soul, making you feel overwhelmed, scared, alone, questioning one after another. They all felt so real. Despite Beck’s machine and the conference room and the memory of being kidnapped, you felt each and every scene. Frustrated and confused, tears began to stream down your face, you screaming for him to stop.

               This time when you returned to the conference room you barely even had enough energy or willpower to stand, instead tumbling towards the floor, a sobbing mess, trying to form a coherent sentence. He had ruined you, messed with your mind, made you question everything. You just wanted to disappear. “Oh, sweetheart,” he teased in a patronizing tone, walking over to you, staring down at where you had collapsed. “What happened to that spitfire stubbornness you inherited from your daddy? It’s gone all of a sudden? What a shame.”

               “Fuck you!” you spat, still crying, eyes stinging from tears, heart racing, body aching. “Fuck you and your games! What do you want?”

               He knelt down beside you, clutching your face and tugging up your chin to look at him, making you feel helpless. “I want you to give me access to the room,” he whispered and your heart sank in your chest. “You know which one.”

               “N-no,” you sputtered out. “I can’t, I’m sorry, I really can’t do that-”

               “I know you can,” he insisted. “I know you and your little Spidey-boyfriend broke in once. You can break in again.”

               “That’s for the Avengers, that’s not for me, it was an accident the first time, I couldn’t have possibly done it on my own,” you rambled but he pressed a finger to your mouth to hush you.

               “Enough talking,” he silenced. “Take me there.”

               You bit down on your bottom lip, staring at him, trying to think of something, anything, but he was right. You were out of options. Defenseless. There wasn’t any other way. “Okay,” you surrendered.

               “Affirmative,” Beck spoke into an earpiece you just now realized he was wearing. “Task accomplished, voluntary captive, proceed.”

               He let go of your face, forcefully tossing you back to the ground, standing back and smirking, making you hate him even more. The conference doors swung open and the two suited men marched in, collecting you up from the ground, and you gave in.

               “Drive faster,” Beck snarled as the two suited men occupied the front seats of the limousine and he accompanied you in the back.

               “We’re driving as fast as we can, boss,” the one in the passenger seat reassured. “We don’t want to draw unnecessary attention towards ourselves.”

               “If Tin Man or Tarantula Boy comes crashing down on top of this limousine, I swear to god I’m going to wring your throats,” he threatened. “Drive faster!”

               You looked out the window as the skyscrapers and towers passed, wondering and hoping and praying that it would happen. That your dad would swoop in and scoop you right out of this limo, blast Beck in his stupid sorry face, and then beat the suited guys to a pulp. You had never seen him in action before. He had strictly kept you away from his whole superhero persona and business. But you secretly always dreamt of what it would be like to watch him save you from danger. You had only seen him wear the suit and use his powers in YouTube videos or on news snippets. If you weren’t so winded yourself, you’d try to unlock the door and tumble out onto the street and then race towards the nearest help. That was, if Beck didn’t catch you and strangle you to death beforehand. Instead you sighed, slumping down in your seat, defeated. The evil man sitting beside you failed to hide a slight smile upon noting your negative tone before gazing out his own window.

               That was, until the entire car jostled and both of you stared at each other for a second, the tires screeching and everyone in the vehicle shouting, jerking to the left. You crashed into the nearest parked car, your eyes readjusting as the broken glass collected in your lap and the airbags went off at the front. You tried to catch your breath before the car jerked towards the right, signaling this was only the beginning of the attack. “Who the fuck?” Beck cursed beside you, holding his hand to his forehead that was now bleeding, unbuckling and jerking open his car door. You watched carefully, then came to your own senses, crawling out of the car and looking out.

               “Y/n?” Spider-Man stood in the middle of the street, staring at you, head tilted. “Oh god. No, you were in that car, you could’ve been hurt, shit, I didn’t know-”

               Caught off guard, he was tossed to the ground with a single blast of Beck’s device, skidding across the asphalt of the street. “I am Mysterio!” Beck roared, shooting another blast, causing Spider-Man to come tumbling down once again, this time into traffic. “Fear me!”

Cars swerved, a couple honked, others turned around, some parked and people got out to record the chaos on their phones. You stood in shock, scared he would be hurt by this maniac. “No!” you raced towards him before Beck got in your way, shouting out his ridiculous villain name before shooting another blast as your boyfriend got up, slinging a web up towards a street light and swinging away.

               “Come back here, you stupid insect!” Beck roared.

               “I’m actually an arachnid,” Spidey shrugged, shooting at web towards his arm only to miss, catching the wall beside him. He was such a fucking dork. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself despite the stress of the situation. That was, until you felt two arms come up behind you and put you in a headlock.

               “Hey!” you screamed, causing your boy to whip his head around to stare at the scene.

               “Y/n, no!” Spider-Man’s eyes went wide and as you began to choke you watched as he was swept off his feet from distraction once again, Beck stepping on his chest, pointing the weapon to his face.

               “S-stop! D-don’t h-hurt him!” you shouted out a strangled cry, but the arms squeezed harder. It was the henchmen, the suited ones, they must’ve gotten out of the car. You eyes teared up and you began to feel lightheaded, trashing and kicking about as much as you could, blurry vision watching as Beck kicked Spider-Man in the face, making your chest heave up with emotion.

               “Hey asshole!” you heard a familiar voice and instantly the arms dropped you, causing you to collapse to the ground. You groaned to yourself, realizing you had found yourself suffocating on the floor far too many times in the past three hours, before looking up, coming face to face with your father, fully suited. Your frown broke out into a grin.

               “Iron Man?” you raised an eyebrow, a bit eager to see how this would play out.

               “Hey Princess Peach,” he gave you a nod before extending his palm and blasting the suited man in the chest, sending him skidding down the asphalt. “You alright?”

               “Y-yeah I’m fine,” you replied, a bit shocked at the brutal violence and crazy technology, but amazed all the same. Also, a bit annoyed at the nickname, but your clapback could wait for later.

               “Good, cause I’ve got to go save your fool of a boyfriend,” he responded. “I’ll be back. You wait somewhere safe.” He zoomed off, rocket blasters lifting him up off the ground and soaring into the sky, then crashing down on top of Mysterio or Beck or whoever the lunatic was, sending Spidey free.

               “Hell yes!” you did a fist pump before racing towards the nearest awning.

               “Douchebag, why don’t you learn to leave my kids alone, huh?” Iron Man blasted him in the chest again, sending him towards the nearest building, but not nearly done with him yet. You almost wanted a bag of popcorn to munch on while watching the battle. Your eyes were fixated on the robot suit and the crazy screaming man until something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Fuck.

               “Pe- I mean, Spider-Man!” you caught yourself, looking around, realizing you couldn’t shout his name, swallowing down the rest of your words before racing towards him.

               The poor kid was sprawled out on the concrete, hacking up blood, and you raced faster, kneeling down beside him, gasping when you saw his suit. “Fuck, Peter-” you could barely breathe or speak. “A-Are you okay?”

               “Hey…” he weakly responded, barely even able to lift his head.

               “Jesus,” your face fell. His suit was torn in some places, blood stained in others, sticky webs tangled in other parts, and even some fabric singed. “Are you bleeding? Is that your blood?”

               “I’m fine, y/n,” he whispered but he clearly wasn’t. Sounds of screams, blasts, and crumbling buildings surrounded you, but you didn’t care. You needed to make sure he was okay.

               “Come on, we’re getting you out of here,” you insisted, trying to pick him up, but unable to do much but lift his torso. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to drag you.”

               Struggling but persistent, you took him to the nearest building, thankful most people had already evacuated due to the violence in the streets. “Let’s go to the back,” Peter suggested. “I can’t have anyone see me.”

               “Right, right,” you nodded, helping him towards the back of the store, helping him sit up behind a couple aisles before rushing to the front door and locking it for your own privacy, then racing back to him. “Come on baby, let’s take off your mask.” You carefully helped pry the fabric of the suit off of him, letting him gasp for air, but frowned upon the sight of the gashes on his jaw and the already forming bruise on his cheek. “Shit Pete, it’s so bad-”

               “I-I’m okay,” he insisted, still coughing up a lung, clutching his side.

               “I’m so sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I should’ve been smarter, I didn’t know…”

               “I’m just glad you’re alright,” he reassured, putting a hand up to your face, holding your cheek softly. “As soon as Mr. Stark and I realized you were missing, we rushed out to find you. We didn’t know that you were with Mysterio, I would have never crashed the car, I didn’t know you were in there-”

               “I’m fine, really,” you gave a soft smile. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

               “I’ll be okay,” he smiled back. “I’m Spider-Man.”

               “Yeah,” you grinned. “I know.” You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and sighed, hugging him gently towards you, letting him lean his weight onto your shoulder.

               “Y/n, c-can you maybe get m-me some water? Is that okay?” he stuttered out and you nodded quickly.

               “Of course,” you replied. “God, I should’ve thought of that. Yeah, one second.” You slowly got up and looked for the nearest fridge and then pulled out a couple bottles, taking it back to him, uncapping one before handing it off. “It’s really important you hydrate.”

               In that moment it was quiet. Silence. Peter leaning on you, occasionally coughing, slowly sipping on water, you playing with his hair while staring at his mask on the ground. This is what Tony meant when he told you that knowing was dangerous. When he had said that there were people who wanted to hurt you, to hurt Peter, to hurt him. You were part of this now, like it or not, and it was part of your responsibility, as well as his, that nothing happened to you. And you just went and ruined it. You pressed your lips together, feeling slightly guilty about it all, hating yourself. Not only were they constantly chasing after villains and going out on missions, they were now cleaning up after your mess. You lowered your head, feeling down, and Peter looked at you, concerned.

               “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “You didn’t know.”

               “Yeah but I should’ve been smarter,” you mumbled. “I should’ve been better.”

               “Hey,” Peter frowned. “Don’t say that. Anyone else would’ve done the same. I’m just proud you didn’t give up. You kept fighting.”

               “Y-yeah,” you nodded, thinking back to when you had given up, when you surrendered, when you agreed to take Beck back to the tower. You were weak.

               “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he gave you a soft hug, smiling, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “That’s what’s important, alright? Not what happened, not who was involved, just that everything’s better now. Okay?”

               “Mhmm,” you replied, starting to get his point. “I guess you’re right.”

               “Hey Romeo and Juliet!” you heard a knocking at the storefront window and you both groaned. “You gonna thank Prince Charming, or what?”

               “I’ll get it,” you rolled your eyes, giving Peter another kiss on the cheek before heading to the door. “Yeah, yeah, thanks.”

               “We are going to have a talk, young lady,” he pointed at you, and even in the Iron Man suit, you could envision him narrowing his eyes.

               “I know,” you sighed. “I know.”

               “Where’s Spidey-Boy?” he asked, looking around.

               “In the back,” you motioned. “Gave him some water and let him take off the mask so he can breathe.”

               “That’s good,” he nodded. “I called Happy, he’ll be here any minute now to come pick us up.”

               “What about the mission?” you asked, a bit panicked as you walked with him to the back of the store.

               “Honey, that was the mission,” he explained. “We were supposed to track down Mysterio because he had stolen some high tech advanced weapons from me and was planning on stealing even more. Apparently we got the location wrong because, well hell, he was here with you instead of where we were headed in Berlin. Strangely enough, you getting captured was helpful, in a weird twisted way. Uh, anyways.” He clears his throat. “Don’t worry about the mission, we got it covered.” He pauses. “You okay, kiddo?”

               “I will be,” you reassured.

               “Good,” he put a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s patch up your boyfriend and then we can get home and talk.”

               The lecture Tony gave you was not nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Rather than scolding you for irresponsibility and stupidity, he reprimanded you for giving him a whole ass heart attack and a half. He reinstated just how important you were to him, and Peter too, saying that he’d do anything to keep you two safe or if need be, save you. He also explained a couple more things about the case, detailing his past with Quentin Beck, who had coined the name Mysterio and foiled several of the Avengers’ and Tony’s plans in the past, as well as stolen his achievements and inventions. He gave you a big hug and then promised to update your emergency bracelet before giving you permission to hang out with Peter Parker, although a bit hesitant. Honestly, he wasn’t half that bad as a father after all.

               “Hey,” you gave a half smile as you noticed Peter enter the lounge, holding a cold pack to his face. “How’s it going?”

               “Got a lengthy talk from your dad,” he laughed, shrugging his bookbag off his shoulder and sitting down on the couch next to you, stretching an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your forehead, tossing the cold pack to the side.

               “Oh god,” you rolled your eyes and groaned. “I’m so sorry. What about?”

               “He said I can’t let you and my emotions get in the way of my work,” he chewed on his lower lip. “He noticed how I would get distracted whenever you were involved. With the car and then with the suited guys, I was always knocked to the ground whenever I was vulnerable. He said it wasn’t acceptable, no matter who was on the other end of the line, that I had to keep my head straight. Because in the process of saving you, I might lose you, and I might end up dead myself.” He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. “It’s ridiculous, seeing as I’d do just about anything for you, but… yeah. I guess he does have a point. People need me.”

               “Of course,” you agreed, although warm hearted at his reflection. “There’s a world that needs saving.”

               “That job’s for your dad,” he chuckled. “Me? I’m more of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

               “Sure…” you replied sarcastically. “As if you’re not a web slinging Avenger in your spare time.”

               “Shhh!” he tickled your side playfully. “That’s a secret! How do you know?”

               “Peter! Peter!” you laughed, pushing him away until he rescinded. “Don’t you know my weakness? How dare you defeat me with your tickles!”

               “My bad,” he raised his hands in surrender, laughing a bit himself. He slowly trails off, staring at you, pressing his lips together. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

               “Same,” you whispered. “And for you too.”

               “No matter what happens, we’ll get through this,” Peter promised, smiling at you. “Together.”

               “Absolutely,” you nodded, breaking out into a grin. “It’s not like I’m dating a superhero for nothing.”

Who’d You Rather

tom holland x reader

summary: if there’s one thing Ellen is known for, it’s exposing secret relationships

a/n: this was written so quickly and not proof-read. also, i picked Ellen because if anyone would do this, it would be her lol

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

July 2019

“So Y/N, are you currently dating anyone?” asks Ellen, taking a sip from her mug.
You shake your head.
“Not currently, no.”
Ellen nods.
“Well, please don’t worry anymore. We’re going to help you find someone in a little game we like to call Who’d You Rather?”

“Oh God,” you laugh, twisting slightly in your seat to glare at your manager for agreeing to this who laughed and poked her tongue out at you.
“So all you need to do is look at the photos I show you and pick between these two options, alright?”
“Okay, if you insist.” you roll your eyes, facing the large screen.
“I do. So to start off, Timothee Chalamet or Dylan O'Brien?”
“Oh, wow,” you laugh. “Starting off strong. Well, I was an absolute hoe for Maze Runner when it came out so I have to pick Dylan. Plus, I know Timothee better so it would be kinda awkward if I chose him.”
The picture of Timothee fades away and is replaced by a new photo.
“Dylan O'Brien or Harry Styles?”
“Harry fucking Styles.” you say without hesitation and the audience cheers. Ellen nods.
“Harry Styles or Florence Pugh?”
You bury your head in your hands.
“How could you ask me that, Ellen? That’s like asking someone to pick between cookie dough and mint chip ice cream! Impossible.”
Ellen mimes tapping at her watch and tuts at you.
“Time’s ticking, Y/N. Make your choice.”
You sigh.
“It’s absolutely Florence then. Sorry, Harry.”
“Florence pugh or Chris Evans?” Ellen asks.
“Flo.”
Ellen’s eyes gleam as she quickly reads the next pair of names, rubbing her hands together in a comically evil fashion.
“Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?”
You slide down on your chair, laughing and covering your face with your hands.
“Ellen!” you shriek. “I’ve just come off my second movie co-starring with Tom and he’s literally my best friend. You can’t ask me this!”
Ellen grins.
“Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?” she repeats.
You pout at the camera.
“Flo, I am so sorry. Please still be my friend. I pick Tom.”
The crowd roars in approval and you wave a hand at them, laughing.
“Shhhh, guys.”
“Tom Holland or Jake Gyllenhaal?” asks Ellen.
“Tom Holland.”
“Tom Holland or Hailee Steinfeld?”
“Tom Holland.”
“Tom Holland or Niall Horan?”
You hesitate, biting your lip as Tom’s frozen grin stares down at you from the photo.
“I…fuck. Tom?” you say, almost as a question.
“So it’s Tom?” Ellen grins. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
You nod, sitting up straight and crossing your legs.
“It’s Tom.”
Ellen stares straight into the camera as an assistant signals an upcoming ad break. She rests one hand on your shoulder as she addresses the audience.
“Tom Holland, you’d better act quickly. Y/N is currently sitting by her phone, waiting for your call. Don’t mess this up.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

April 2021

You relax into the plush cushion of the chair on Ellen’s set once again. You are paying attention, sort of. You nod and laugh in all the right places, offering stories and jokes when needed but your mind is miles away. Ellen can pick up on this and she shifts in her seat.
“Y/N.” she says, holding eye contact. “Can I have your phone please?
Your eyes widen as you reach into the pocket of your oversized blazer, following her request and placing the unlocked device in Ellen’s waiting hand.
"I wonder,” she says out loud, “who we can get to answer your call?”
“Oh God,” you laugh, covering your face. “If no one picks up I’ll be so embarrassed.”
“The Watermelon Man?” Ellen questions, reading off of the screen. “Shall we call the Watermelon Man, whoever that is?”
You cover your face, laughing.
“Jesus. If Harry Styles doesn’t pick up I think I’ll throw myself off a cliff.”
The phone rings three times before a voice rings out from a noisy background.
“Y/N! How are you?” laughs Harry. “This is a surprise, I have to admit.”
“Harry!” you call out, before he can say anything else. “Ellen’s hijacked my phone and started ringing people, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, she has?” Harry asks mischievously. “I’ll make sure not to mention anything about our upcoming collaboration then…” he trails off and you can practically hear him winking through the phone as he hangs up.
“That absolute fucker,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at his spoiler as Ellen is already scrolling through your contacts list again.
“Oh!” she exclaims, eyes bright. “Y/N, I thought you told us you weren’t dating anyone? May I ask who ‘My Darling ’ is?”
You freeze on the spot, mouth drying out as you blink at Ellen, desperately trying to jump start your brain into snatching the phone back. You glance over at your manager who is sat stock still, just as shocked as you are.
The phone rings five times and you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s 3AM in London right now, he’s not going to pick up.
Just as you’ve collected your heart off of the floor and smoothed your hair down, ready to make a self deprecating joke about this mystery person not picking up, there’s a pause and the a collective gasp from the audience as the phone connects.
“Hello my love, is everything alright?” asks Tom in his groggy, raspy morning voice.
Ellen’s jaw hits the floor so quickly you’re shocked it doesn’t fall off entirely.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

tysm for reading! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

rendezvous (t.h)

tom holland x little mix!reader

request from @thirlwallshollandforlittle mix!reader on holiday with tom and the boys - hope you enjoy !

a/n: i’m using jade thirlwall as face claim again for the smau posts for continuity

those 3 photos are also so wonky if you’re on pc lol im so sorry - but honestly not sorry enough to spend 25 minutes fixing them. it looks good on the app on dark mode.

warnings: blood, injury, alcohol, maybe too much fluff lol

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The end of a tour was always a strange time. After so many weeks of living on the road with your closest friends, it was a shock to come back to reality. The end of this tour was especially hard, knowing it would be the last time you’d perform with your band for a while as you all took a well-deserved break.

Tom had witnessed the effect this had on you, and after spending a few days stroking your hair as you lay on the sofa binge-watching reality TV, letting you rest up he came to you with an idea. An escape from dribbly London, a holiday to celebrate and take your mind off of things. He suggested you invite the rest of the girls too, and once Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine heard about the trip they were all too excited to crash it.

So here you were, the eight of you sprawled out underneath the blue Bali sky, listening to the gentle crashing of the waves and feeling the warmth of the sun beating down on your skin.  

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The boys had eventually tackled each other into the ocean and you lay on a beach towel, surrounded by the rest of your band. In your relaxed state, you only half register the familiar giggle approaching your towel, accompanied with a grumbly, “watch it, Tom!” from Jade as he no doubt blocked her sunlight. Something cold and wet hit your shoulder, followed by a cascade of tiny drips pattering over your stomach and you shriek, opening your eyes to meet Tom’s crinkly ones as he stands above you, shaking out his wet curls over you. 

“Toooooom!” you groan, shivering at the cold water. 

“Y/NNNNNN!” he mocks, dropping down onto the sand next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“What was that for?” you ask. “I was sunbathing.”

He shrugs. 

“What’s the fun in having a girlfriend if you can’t bug the hell out of her?” he grins, knocking his forehead into yours. 

You roll your eyes, inadvertently snuggling into his side. You can never stay annoyed at him for long. 

“Anyway, I came over hear to ask you to play chicken with Tuwaine and I.” he says. “Otherwise I gotta have Harry on my team and he sucksat chicken.”

You snort into his shoulder, nodding. 

“Harrydoessuck at chicken.”

Before you even have a chance to decide whether to play, Perrie is hopping up off her towel, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. 

“Pez!” you shriek as she tugs you towards the water, Tom laughing and jogging after the both of you. “What the hell is going on?”

“A game!” she cheers. “We have to hurry, I want to win!”

You wobble slightly, grabbing onto Tom as you try to stay on his shoulders with his arms wrapped around your legs. 

“Ouch!” he screeches. “My ears, love, why are you grabbing my-”

“Oh shit,” you laugh, bending down to press a kiss to his red ears in apology and sticking your arms out for balance instead. “Sorry.”

“Come on!” calls Perrie as she approaches, balanced perfectly on Tuwaine’s shoulders. “Are you ready to loose?”

When you’re closer, you reach out and rest your hands on her shoulders and she copies your action. 

“Ready?” calls Tuwaine. 

“Three, two-”

Perrie gives an almighty shove before Tuwaine can even say one, sending Tom stumbling backwards and you sliding off his shoulders into the water. 

“Perrie Edwards!” you shriek, coughing saltwater out. “He didn’t even get to one!” 

Perrie laughs as she and Tuwaine high five. Tom has recovered at this point and wraps one arm around you as you stand up. 

“Are you okay?” he laughs. 

You nod, tapping his shoulders to signal him to crouch down. He obliges and you clamber back on determinedly. Tom puffs his chest out as you approach the other team, preparing to win this time. 

“Is everyone ready this time?” laughs Tuwaine. “Alright. Three, two, one-”

“FIGHT!” you yell, pushing hard on both Perrie’s shoulders. She teeters backwards but regains her balance, pushing you back in retaliation. You both grapple with each other, and just as Tuwaine stumbles backward and you think that you and Tom have this one in the bag, she reaches out and pushes against your hip, pushing you off sideways. 

You scream as you fly through the air, hitting the water with an almighty splash. You fall so forcefully you go right down to the blue bottom, scraping your knee against a particularly sharp shell. Before you can properly register what happened and resurface, a pair of strong arms reach down and pull you up into the sunlight. Tom gasps in relief, holding you close to chest bridal style as he checks you over. 

“Darling! Are you alright?” he worries. 

You nod, blinking against the harsh light and giggle slightly at his protective state. 

“Tommy I’m fine! It’s not even that deep. I just got a shock, is all.”

Tom looks unconvinced and pouts as his eyes sweep over your legs. 

“You’re bleeding, darling.” he says, gently holding your knee.

You glance down and see that he’s actually right. There’s a gash across your left knee and a steady stream of red blood streams out, fading into the clear ocean water. Perrie wades over, looking guilty. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry babe! I got to competitive and you got hurt!” 

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“I’mfineyou lot of worriers! It looks worse than it is, honestly it’s not deep. I’m fine.”

“I’m going to take you back up to the beach and have a look at it.” says Tom, wading out into the shallows. You roll your eyes but know you can’t stop him as he carries you up the beach, laying you on a towel near the rest of the group. Jade and Leigh-Anne have gone off somewhere and Harrison is out cold underneath his sunhat, but Harry shakes his head as Tom crouches over you, pressing tiny kisses to your knee and trying to wipe the remaining blood away, wincing whenever he looks to closely. 

“This never would have happened if you’d let me play chicken, Tom.” Harry laughs. 

Tom shoots him a death glare and Harry quietens, sensing how worried Tom is about you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, turning to you. “Seriously, are you okay Y/N?”

You reach out and playfully smack the redhead, rolling your eyes. 

“For the last time, I’m fine! It’s literally a small cut and everyone’s acting like I’ve been partially beheadedor something.”

Harry snorts in laughter as he holds up his hands in surrender. 

Tom leans over to someone’s large beach bag, searching for some kind of Band-Aid for you. He chucks items in his way behind him as he does so, a tube of sunscreen landing in the middle of Harrison’s stomach who wakes up with an “oof”. 

“There’s nothing in here, darling.” Tom sighs. He stands up and reaches down, picking you up bridal style again. “I’m going to take you back to our room and we’ll find you something there.”

You nod, not even trying to protest as you know you won’t convince him. 

Harrison sits up, blinking as he adjusts to the sunlight. He catches sight of Tom striding towards the hotel with you in his arms and frowns at Harry who only shrugs at him, opening up a trashy magazine you had left. 

“Y/N!” calls Harrison. “Are you okay??”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“He didn’t swim into you on purpose, Y/N” sighs Leigh-Anne. “You just happened to snorkel right into his house, that’s all.” She tries to reassure you as you all crowd around a table in a tiny restaurant, you cosying up in the corner of the booth between her and Tom.

“I saw the bloodlust in his tiny fishy eyes, Leigh,” you say, shuddering at the memory of only a few hours ago. “He had an evil plan.” 

Tom picks up his fork and brandishes it at invisible fish all around your table. “Back off!” he barks. “Back off, say I! Away from my girlfriend!” 

You grab his fork, placing it down on the table and knocking your head into his shoulder as you try so hard to stay serious at his childish antics. 

“Tom!” you hiss. “You’re making a scene.”

He shrugs. 

“I’m an actor darling, it’s what I do. The other thing I do is protect my wonderful girlfriend against supervillain fish plotting against her.” 

It’s at this moment that there is a simultaneous lull in everyone else’s conversations and all six heads turn to look at you and Tom, blinking for a second before bursting out in laughter. 

“Evil supervillain fish?” splutters Jade, as Tom buries his head in your shoulder. 

“You all heard it out of context,” he mutters sheepishly. 

You’re deep in a conversation with Leigh-Anne about a recent performance when you notice Tom has been uncharacteristically quiet. You turn to see him leaning away from you, seemingly invested in a photo Perrie’s showing him on her phone. Looking closer, you see she’s proudly showing him pictures of baby Axel. “Oh, and look at this one with him and Hatchi,” she coos. 

Tom gives ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ in all the right places, nodding and grinning with his eyes trained on the phone but he drums his fingers on the table, fidgeting and shifting in his seat. Before you can ask if he’s okay, you’re all distracted by the food arriving. Once everyone’s started eating you lean into his side and put your mouth near his ear. 

“Hey,” you whisper, conversation drowned out to the rest of the group by the chatter of everyone else. “Are you okay? Did Perrie ambush you with baby photos?”

He laughs softly, resting a hand on top of yours. 

“Don’t worry about me, love. Just seeing all the baby photos, it got me thinking and excited for the future.” he whispers.

Your heart skips a beat and he grins properly, pressing a kiss to your head. He gives you one last smile before tucking into his meal. 

“Oh my God,” he moans. “This is fucking incredible! Darling, you have to try some.” 

He scoops up some of his meal on his fork, twisting in his seat and placing his free hand under your chin so he can feed you a mouthful. He’s not wrong, the food is absolutely incredible and is made even better when you’re surrounded by your best friends in the world. The sweet moment is interrupted by Harry and Jade making gagging sounds and pretending to be sick from their end of the table as they try to glare at you and Tom, but neither can hide the shine in their eyes as they watch you two. 

As the night grows dark and the group is only illuminated by the colorful lanterns hanging above the table, Jade taps her knife against her glass, waiting until the whole table is watching attentively. Jade clears her throat. 

“Before we leave tonight, I want to raise a toast. Or maybe a few toasts, so we might need to get some more to drink over here. Firstly, I want to toast to the girls.” She glances around at you all, eyes shining. You can already feel yourself welling up and Leigh-Anne clasps your hand under the table for comfort. “You girls have been the best sisters for the last ten years. We couldn’t have done any of this without each other, and I’m so proud of everything we’ve achieved. Seven incredible albums, the tours, the awards, the music videos, the performances, the fans we’ve met, winning Best British Group-” you all cheer, Tuwaine reaching two fingers up to his mouth to whistle and Tom wrapping an arm around you and squeezing you into his side -“but most of all, our friendship,” Jade continues. “I think it’s fair to say that our friendship has gotten us through the last ten years together, and I just wanted to tell you all how much I appreciate you lot. I love you.” she sniffles, raising her glass. “To Little Mix!”

“To Little Mix!” you all chorus, clinking your glasses and wiping away stray tears. 

“I’ve got a toast too, because I don’t think Jade can get through another one,” laughs Perrie, holding Jade as she sniffles and hiccups slightly. “I want to raise a toast to Tom and Y/N. Now, Y/N.” she begins. “We’ve always been a little protective over you, though God knows you don’t need it, really. I know we tend to tease you and Tom a lot for having absolutely zero boundaries and piling on the PDA when you’re together, but it’s only because we love you both so much. It’s been an honor to watch you fall in love, bub.” she says. 

“And to have been the three co-authors of every text Tom received from you for the first six months of your relationship.” adds Leigh-Anne, knocking her shoulder into yours. 

“Wait, what?” Tom laughs. 

“Mind you though Tom, Little Mix will reassemble to commit a felony if you ever hurt her,” pipes in Jade.

“To Tom and Y/N,” cheers Perrie, ignoring him and raising her glass. “For being Tom and Y/N!”

Tom buries his hand in his jacket that he’d tucked around your shoulders when it had started to get color and rests his head on top of yours, basking in the moment with you. 

“And for paying for this trip!” cheers Harry. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

+ bonus smau

liked by hazosterfield, nikkihollandphotography, oliviarodrigo and others

y/ninstagram☑️: on our way!

mixerjadeee: where are you going ????

↪️y/ninstagram☑️: Bali!!

harryholland64☑️: i’m literally sat right on the other side of you, where’s a pic of me?

perrieedwards☑️: can’t wait to see you guys again!

↪️angely/nn: ARE THE GIRLS ALL GOING TOGETHER IM CRYING

tomholland2013☑️: naa why do i do that thing with my hand

↪️y/ninstagram☑️: idk spiderman

dommoholland☑️: you’ve got that son of mine reading? witchcraft.

liked by nikkihollandphotography, tuwaine and robertdowneyjr

tomholland2013☑️: how you feel about a rendezvous? time for two

tuwaine☑️: *eight

mixerhollands: he used a little mix lyric

hazosterfield☑️:

↪️tomholland2013☑️: back off bro?

parkersy/n:oop-

harryholland64☑️: how long did it take you to spell rendezvous right

↪️tomholland2013☑️: like 2 min i got yn to spell check

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hold your horses! (t.h)

tom holland x reader

summary: rumors fly during an interview leading to a shock announcement for tom and his girlfriend

a/n: inspired by a tiktok i saw months ago and have not stopped thinking abt since
i literally could not think of one panel-type event that wasnt comic-con i am so sorry flsjsjksjs

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Tom shifts in his seat, running one hand through his curls as he tries to keep his face animated and stop his eyes glazing over. he’s been sat on a vaguely uncomfortable chair for the last hour or so at Comic-Con, promoting his latest movie and as much as he loves his job and the fans, all he wants to do is crawl into bed and curl up next to you for a good twelve hours.

“Tom?” prompts the interviewer.

“I- I’m so sorry, what was your question?” he asks, flushing in embarrassment at being caught zoning out.

“Is Y/N here today?” repeats the interviewer patiently.

Tom grins at the mention of your name and he sits up taller, eyes scanning the crows until he finds you, hoodie pulled up over your head to hide from eagle-eyed fans.

“She is, yeah. I basically dragged her here so we could kind of spend time together, as an apology.” he admits.

“An apology?” the interviewer says. “What did you do, Tom?”

“Yeah, what did you do, Tom?” echoes one of his co-stars, laughing.

“I fell asleep during our movie date.” Tom admits sheepishly, shaking his head at the roar of laughter from the crowd. “Twenty minutes in, I was out cold.”

“You didn’t!” laughs the interviewer. “What did she do?”

“She was the absolute best, of course. She just held me and stroked my hair and wrapped me up in a blanket and then stayed on the sofa with me all night.” he says, eyes crinkling at the general “awww” from the crowd.

The interviewer’s eyes glint mischievously as Tom tells his story, clearly sensing a way to divert the interview to The Good Stuff™.

“So speaking of Y/N, there’s been a lot of talk about you two online recently.” he starts. “Specifically, engagement rumors? Is there any basis, any truth to these rumors?”

Tom shifts around as he stalls for time until he can meet your eyes in the crowd, raising his fluffy eyebrow ever so slightly to silently ask if you’re okay with him talking about your relationship. You give him a tiny nod, encouraging him to go on.

“No, we’re not engaged.” he says. “But we’ve honestly never been happier than we are right now. She’s so creative, and caring, and funny, and gorgeous. There’s no one else I’d rather spend my life with.”

You can’t help but feel slightly choked up as he gushes, resisting the urge to throw off your hoodie and run up to the stage, crushing him into a bear hug and never letting go.

“WHEN ARE YOU PROPOSING?!” yells a particularly enthusiastic fan, rousing cheers from the rest of the crowd and the cast members on stage.

Tom laughs as he winks at you again.

“When I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

This, of course, results in almost hysterical screams (affectionate).

You pull your phone from your pocket, tapping on Tom’s contact and typing out a message. He’s watching you of course, so when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket he pulls it out, cheering like an excited seven year old, “I got a text! From Y/N!”

Y/N: i’d marry you in a heartbeat baby <3

He blows a kiss in your direction, grinning from ear to ear. As he’s distracted, gazing at you lovingly, a co-star leans over his shoulder and reads the text.

“Holy shit!” they laugh. “Did Tom Holland just get engaged?”

The screams reach an all-time record and you wince slightly, bringing a hand up to your ringing ear. Tom snatches his phone closer, rolling his eyes.

“Hold your horses!” he laughs. “Let me check.”

He balances the microphone in his left hand as he types out a quick message.

tommy: Did we just get engaged??

Y/N: we will be when you give me that rock hidden at the back of your sock drawer

Tom’s soft brown eyes crinkle around the edges as he grins all but leaps up from his chair.

“Is this interview wrapping up soon?” He asks cheekily. “I’ve got to go get engaged.”

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

tysm for reading! comments and reblogs are always super appreciated. i wanna thank you guys for all the love on my blog, you’re the best <333

3000 Followers!!!!!

Omg that’s so crazy. Thank you so much. I don’t really know what to say apart from thank you and I appreciate you all so much. I never thought people would really see what I posted because I thought no one would care but this is so crazy.

I’ve been thinking of maybe doing some other stuff on my page but idk. If anyone has any suggestions let me know. I’ve considered maybe writing if that’s something people would like. I would carry on what I’m doing as well. I just want to appeal to everyone.

Sorry this may be a bit cringe but I’m honestly speechless. Thank you guys so muchhh

Love you all xxx