A/N:Thanks for all the recent likes. This is the twelfth and final part in the Lights, Camera, Action series. Here are the links to the other parts if you want to catch up.
The silence when Tom leaves is palpable, you looking at the door for a few moments as though you’re surveying your surroundings are solid and real and not some figment of a bad dream. Taron stands up straight and you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck.
“Y/N?” You turn now and look at him, your eyes meeting his for the first time in days. All the emotions from the past few days, rushing to your chest and stomach and solidifying there like a weight. Silently you walk past Taron and into the kitchen, the man clears his throat behind you.
“Are you and Tom?…” He trails off and you spin on your heel, chin jutted out defiantly your hands curling into fists. Taron recoils at the anger that flashes in your eyes, your voice a low, sharp hiss when you talk.
“How dare you! You asked me to be your girlfriend and I thought that for once…Just once, that you weren’t going to be like other guys.” His eyes lower to the floor, brimmed with tears but you can’t stop talking. It’s all coming out and you need it to.
“But you’re worse, because you let me believe and feel as though you really cared and for what? So you could cheat on me at the first opportunity. And with Nadia of all people?” He looks up at you here, his eyes catching yours and you can see the guilt etched into his face. His usual smooth features lined with regret and tiredness.
“I couldn’t find you anywhere Taron, and then you showed up and I was confused and relieved but you were acting so weird. And then I told you that I was…” A breath for strength here, an internal pep talk to keep your voice steady. “Falling in love with you…And you just left here and jumped into bed with Nadia.” You bring your hand to your mouth and take a deep breath, your stomach twisting and a feeling of nausea washing over you.
“I’m so sorry…I got so drunk and then I danced with her and she was saying all these things. About you and Tom. I’m not stupid y/n, I can tell there’s something between you two.” Your face betrays you at his words, falling and flushing with colour. Taron eyes you, his eyes suddenly sober and heavy with emotion.
“So there is something between you two?” You sigh and lean back against a stool and rub a hand over your face.
“There kind of was at one point. We had chemistry and used to spend a lot of time together between takes. And before you started, we did almost kiss…But when Nadia showed up, I put a stop to it. Then you and I got close and well…you know.” Taron wipes his hand across his mouth.
“You didn’t date or sleep together?” Your head snaps up and Taron knows from the shock on your face what the answer is, he closes his eyes, his face turning to one of anguish. “Nadia said…” You feel suddenly exhausted and want nothing more than for the ground to swallow.
“Yeah well, Nadia was lying.” Taron seems to sway on the spot before closing the distance between you, in two long strides. He reaches out to hold your hands but you pull them away, his eyes looking at you scared.
“Please y/n…She got inside my head, she convinced me you and Tom were seeing each other behind our backs. I was weak and stupid and…Please y/n…Please give me one more chance. If I could go back in time and change things, I would. I didn’t want to hurt you, didn’t mean to.” Your voice is low and soft.
“But you did. You could have asked me? Spoken to me? But you didn’t. You chose to believe someone you barely knew and who hated me. Instead of trusting me, your girlfriend…The person you claimed to care for.”
“I do care about you.” Your laugh is sudden and bitter sounding.
“Funny way of showing it.” The room is silent, Taron looking at you pleadingly, you lick your lips and sigh. “I’m sorry Taron…But I can’t. All I see when I look at you is her. I thought I could trust you and I do care for you but I can’t, I’m sorry…I hope she was worth it.” You watch as he wipes his hands over his face roughly and straighten’s up.
“Okay…Sorry Y/N…I’m sorry.” He turns to leave but pauses looking back at you, he looks weighed down with sadness. You stand up and cross to meet him, pulling him into a hug, he holds you close and breathes in the smell of your shampoo. After a few moments, you pull apart and hold each others gaze.
“I’m sorry too Taron, I’m sorry I can’t carry on.” His eyes soften and his hand brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“This is on me…I’ll miss you y/n.” He turns then and walks to the door, you follow him awkwardly. He pulls it open turning to look at you one more time.
“Tell Tom he better take care of you.” He’s gone then, you close the door, slide down to the floor and let the tears come.
-
After Taron leaves, your body purges itself of all the hurt, confusion and anger of the past month. By the time you get up from the hallway floor your body is stiff and sore. You make your way to bed and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The day after you get to work early, as you pull up in your car you see Tom’s car already parked up and feel a flush of warmth go through you. Glancing in your compact you take in your appearance, only slight shadows, like faint bruises under your eyes, give any indication of the past 24 hours. You tug at the hem of your smock dress self-consciously as you make your way to Tom’s trailer.
Nerves are swimming through you as you walk up the steps and pull open his door, knocking be damned. As you shut the door behind you, you see Tom stand, his eyes wide and soft. You take three steps across the room, Tom pulls you to him, his lips brushing against yours, with an urgency that makes you dizzy. He catches a breath in his throat as he pulls away, his hands cupping your face, he rests his forehead against yours.
“I thought you’d changed your mind.” You shake your head and bring your eyes up to meet his a small smile on your face.
“No…After I spoke to Taron last night, I just felt so drained. It’s been a long few days, I just needed to sleep.” He brushes a thumb across your cheek, his eyes studying your face, as though you’re about to disappear.
“So you’ve not changed your mind?…You want me?…Us?” Closing your eyes, you brush your lips against his before replying.
“More than anything.” He smiles and it lights up his whole face, as he moves his hands down your body, palming your butt and pulling you flush to him. The breath catches in your throat and with one more longing gaze, your lips are crashing against each other with a wanton desire. Tom pulls you to him, before falling back on the plush sofa, easing your legs on either side so you’re straddling him. Your lips don’t part, as he manouevres you out of the jacket you’re wearing, his hands moving up your back as you trace the tips of your fingers down his chest, your hips rolling against him. But you need more, you want to feel your skin on his, you pull at the hem of his tshirt and you pull apart, as he tugs it over his head. Discarding it to the side.
Your eyes trace down his body and you bite your lower lip, as you take in his toned body. His eyes meet yours then, a flirty smile on his face.
“This doesn’t seem fair…Come here.” He pulls you closer, as you kick off your boots, his hands squeezing your thighs. You reach down and pull your dress over your head, your breasts hanging loose. Tom shifts beneath you, his mouth opening slightly. Your cheeks ripple with warmth, and you know you’re blushing, you cross your arms across your chest in a self conscious gesture.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He gently lowers your arms down and cups his hand on right breast, his cheeks turning pink, eyes darkening with desire.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He rolls his tongue against your nipple, before grazing it with the edge of this teeth, the sensation causing your head to fall back as you moan out his name. His hands move quickly then as he unbuttons his jeans, lifting you with one arm, as he shimmys out of them, kicking them off his legs. You pull him into a kiss then, the feel of him straining against his boxers. The friction of him rubbing against your bud of nerves, sending shivers through your body.
“Hold on.” He tightens his grip around you and stands, picking you up and laying on the sofa gently, before crashing his lips back on to yours. His fingertips stroking down your stomach, and teasing the edge of your underwear, you arch your back and he curls his fingers round the edges and pulls them down and off your legs, eyeing you hungrily and causing you to whimper. He kicks off his boxers and your eyes widen at the size of him, he bites his lower lip and leans into kiss you. Your fingers run through the curls at the nape of his neck and he breathes your name into the kiss, your whole body alert to his touch.
He kisses down your neck and between your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your erect nipples, causing you to squeeze your legs together, to ease the aching you feel for him. He brushes over your thighs with the palm of his hand, pulling your legs apart. His voice is low and husky.
“Let me look at you.” He positions himself between your legs, grabbing himself and rubbing the tip of his erection over your clit. You gasp and arch your back, you want him…You need him. Tom’s eyes shine mischievously and he moves up your body, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in as he looks into your eyes.
“Tell me what you want darling.” His tone is gentle but commanding and it sends a flush of warmth through you, as you watch him through hooded eyes, and lick your lips.
“I want you…Please…Tom?” His eyes soften as he leans into kiss you before pulling back and adjusting his body. His fingers tracing circles on your thighs, he plants kisses on your stomach, your inner thighs and you reach down, tangling your fingers in his hair as you beg him once more. He smirks at you before lowering down and rolling his tongue between your folds, the pleasure sending shockwaves through your body. He moans and grabs himself in his hand, stroking up and down the length.
You feel yourself unravel as Tom uses his mouth to bring you to climax, arching your back, fingers squeezing his hair as you moan out his name. He kisses up your body and you look him in the eyes as you press your hand to his cheek, shifting yourself and lowering your hand between your bodies, grabbing him with your hand. He closes his eyes and moans and you brush your thumb across the tip of him and he growls your name, sending heat right to your core.
“I need you y/n.” His voice is heavy with need, he kisses you deeply as he rolls his fingers against your bud of sensitive nerves. He lines himself up with you, rubbing the tip of himself against you, until you beg him to be inside you. He eases himself in slowly at first and then thrusts. The two of you mirroring each other, heads back and mouths open, eyes closed in ecstasy. You reach up and grip his hair, pulling his mouth to yours once more. The two of you moaning and whimpering as Tom thrusts into you, his hand reaching down, gripping your thigh and pulling it up slightly. You gasp, feeling the full length of him inside you, a thin layer of sweat forming on your chests and brows.
And then you’re coming undone, your whole body aware of every part of Tom that’s touching you. He reaches for your hand and threads his fingers with yours as he smiles softly, his eyes closed with intense pleasure.
“I’m gonna cum y/n.” You breathe out his name and allow the orgasm to wash over you, arching your back and squeezing your thighs as Tom moans out your name and lets his head fall to your shoulder. The trailer is silent other than the heavy breathing of you both trying to get your breath back. Tom kisses you on the cheek, before easing himself from you and reaching over to get a blanket that’s laying on the chair opposite.
He places his arm under your head and throws the blanket over the two of you, his brown eyes gentle as he lays on his side holding you close.
“Are you covered? Do you feel okay?” You smile and stroke your finger down his jaw, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“I feel great…What about you?” He blushes, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, I feel great too…I just wish I didn’t have to work now though, I’d rather spend the day…Actually…The whole week with you.” You let out a laugh, your heart skipping a beat as he leans forward and gives you a gentle kiss.
“Hmm yeah, it would be pretty good.” His smile takes over his entire face and you smile back, as he brushes his hand through his hair, his tone playful.
“Well you know…I’m kind of the star of this thing, so I can be as late as I want to set.” You look mock offended and gasp.
“Are you suggesting you’re going to act like a diva Mr Holland?” His eyebrows quirk up, a smile pulling up his mouth.
“Did you just call me Mr Holland?” You smirk and nod your head.
“You know, I think I did.” He lifts the blanket up and positions himself on top of you.
“Say it again.” And as he starts kissing your neck and laughing, all you can do is oblige.
again, this is 6.4k of self indulgence, but i hope you enjoy
summary: despite your differences you fall in love with him
warnings: 18+ content!! unprotected sex solely bc i was too lazy to write it in lmao, but wrap it before you tap it babes!! some angsty stuff and tom not thinking
not my gif
you’d met him by accident. you were waiting to pick up your drink from the counter just as he was on his way to grab his and bumped into his shoulder. you apologized just as quickly as it had happened, barely looking over until he ever so gently placed his hand over your bicep, just to steady you as he said “s okay, are you alright?”
he looked familiar, like you were supposed to know him from somewhere.
“We called your emergency contact. Your boyfriend should be here any minute.” The doctor told you as she wrote your stats down in your chart.
“Okay. Thank you.” You smiled in appreciation at her. Just a few seconds after she left your room, Tom ran in. He almost slipped from how fast he ran into the room but caught himself on the doorway.
i don’t know where i stand | tom holland x reader (series masterlist)
pairing: childhood!best friend!tom holland x female!reader
summary:it’s summer, and you’ve just moved into a new flat after a bad breakup with your now ex-boyfriend. when a celebratory trip to the nearby pub turns into an awkward meeting with your childhood best friend tom, old feelings you thought were gone gets brought back.
warnings:extended warnings will be given for each chapter, but there’s lots of fluff, pining, some angst, also it’s kind off a slow burn? the chapters marked with * will contain smut. that means that those chapters are +18 only. sominors stay away!!!
a/n:this is the first time ever i’ve written and posted anything on here (pls be gentle). english is also not my first language so if you see any spelling/grammar mistakes, no you didn’t i woke up one day with this idea in my head and started writing it mostly for myself. when it started getting long i thought that maybe i should post it. i don’t really see myself as a writer- i just wrote this for fun, and now i’m hoping somebody else will enjoy it! happy reading!
fic playlist: grudges - paramore // bros - wolf alice // i will - mitski // all i want - joni mitchell // let it be me - nina simone // i don’t know where i stand - joni mitchell // sunday - the cranberries // no use i just do - hayley williams // a case of you - joni mitchell // just a lover - hayley williams
request from @thirlwallsholland : could you possibly do a tom holland x female!reader?
tom, y/n and the boys are going to see uncharted for the first time, and y/n has been a fan of the games before she even met tom so she’s really excited. y/n really loves the film and that night she’s all cuddly and clingy with tom vice versa so the boys make fun of them and call tom whipped?
thank you!! :)
a/n: thanks for the request hun! i’m so sorry this took so long, it’s just been one of those weeks - for like 3 weeks in a row. hope you enjoy ! <3
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“I want honest feedback, okay?” Tom says as the lights dim down. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Bro, when have we ever sugarcoated anything?”
You rest your hand on top of Tom’s on the armrest between your seats, giving it an excited and reassuring squeeze.
“We will. Now both of you shut it, I want to watch the movie.” you say.
The four of you: Harry, Tuwaine, Harrison, and you were finally going to see the full Uncharted movie, and to say that Tom was nervous for the group’s opinions was an understatement. Harry had seen most of it during filming and you had seen little snippets when you’d visited the set but none of you four had seen the whole thing yet, effects and all. You weren’t solely watching just to appreciate your boyfriend’s action sequences, you had been a huge fan of the Uncharted games since before you’d even met Tom. Him being the lead in the film adaptation was only a bonus for you.
Tom had rented out a small theater for your group so that you could ‘have the proper experience’ without him having to deal with fans. The group of you sat a couple rows back from the large screen, stocked up with popcorn and drinks. It had been Tuwaine’s idea for everyone to wear onesies.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“Holy shit!” you say partway into the movie, pointing at the screen and grasping Tom’s hand with your free one. “Is that JJ from Outer Banks? You didn’t tell me you met him!”
“Rudy Pankow? Yeah, I met him on set, he was nice. I’ll introduce you to him at some point if you want,” Tom whispers back, breath warm against your ear.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Bartender Tom makes you a little hot under the collar (or onesie), if you’re being honest. You lean over in hopes that the other boys won’t hear.
“Tommy, think we can get a bar added into our place? And maybe you can get a couple of those outfits…”
“Gross, Y/N!” gags Harrison. “No one needs to hear about your little fantasies.”
Tom chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I think we can definitely work something out, darling.”
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“Anyone want a cup of tea?” asks Harry, coming back into the living room after switching the kettle on.
You’d all stumbled onto the sofa and armchairs after returning home from the movie theater. Turns out spending two hours in a dark room wearing pajamas makes you feel kinda tired. Shocker.
“Oh yo, I could go for a cuppa,” says Tuwaine from his spot on the sofa.
“Same here,” calls Harrison.
“Yes please,” you say, giving Harry a grin in hopes that he’ll bring out yours first so it’s hot.
“Yeah, but not too much milk, okay?” says Tom. “I don’t know who it is, but someone in this house always gets the milk everywhere and makes a huge mess.”
Harrison snorts in the otherwise silent room. “Oh come on, no one else took that the way I did?”
Tom turns to you while the others begin an argument. You’re both curled together in the red armchair, Tom sitting with his back against the backrest and you sideways, leaning on one armrest with your legs over the other, basically sitting in his lap.
“So, what did you think of the movie darling?” he asks, biting his lip. It’s your opinion he cares about the most, as you know the most about the series than any of the boys. “You’ve been kinda quiet since we left the theater.”
“Baby, I loved it!” you squeal. “I’ll be honest I was a little unsure about them casting you as Nathan at first, but you absolutely smashed it. It was a surprisingly good adaptation, and now I honestly think you were perfect for the role. All in all, it was just a super fun movie, you know? Oh Sophia was great too. Do you have her number? Can you tell her I thought she was incredible? Oh and don’t get me started on all the scenes with you in a white shirt that got wet and went see-through,” you ramble, tugging on his sleeve in excitement.
Tom chuckles, a grin spreading across his face and his eyes crinkling at the sides.
“Yeah? You really thought so?”
You nod, pressing a loud and smacking kiss to his cheek.
“I really did, bub.”
He wraps both arms around you and you tuck your head into his chest, peppering tiny kisses over the exposed skin of his neck as you breathe in the familiar scent. You’re honestly so proud of him and how hard he works to bring each role to life, and you want to show him this. It’s only when his hand slips slightly lower to rest innocently on your onesie-clad bum that the rest of the group groans.
“Oh god, my eyes!” gasps Harry dramatically as he enters the room again, handing you your tea.
“Get a fucking room you horndogs,” calls Harrison, pretending to gag.
“Unless you’re going to give us a proper show, knock it off,” says Tuwaine, standing up to help Harry with the teas.
“Hey!” says Tom, going slightly pink. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that!.” The thought makes him immediately protective and you giggle, resting a hand on his arm to show that you’re okay with the boys’ teasing.
“You are so fucking whipped, man. It’s sickening really,“ pipes in Harry, but you catch the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth that shows deep down, he’s thrilled his brother’s found his person to always be there for him.
Tom rolls his eyes as Harry hands him his tea (last, oh the joys of siblings) and stands up, gently pulling you up after him. He plucks your half-drunk tea out of your hands and starts to make his way up the stairs.
“Come on darling, I think we will get a room eh?”
He wiggles his hips dramatically to prove his point as you giggle, hopping up the stairs after him and giving his own onesie-clad bum a cheeky pinch.
You look over your shoulder at the rest of the boys as you go, both you and Tom giggling slightly hysterically at the sour expressions on their faces.
“Might want to get the old earplugs out tonight, boys.”
It was raining. Not too strange for a typical London night. The clock read eight and Tom was already getting lost in the pitter patter of the raindrops against the windowpane of his apartment. It all made so much sense to him, as he listened closely, it sent a tingle to his fingers and he moved them around in the air, placing them in a way he would do on his guitar before striking the chords. He’d spent all of his day today trying to find that damned guitar of his, it sounded mesmerizing albeit being of his grandad’s, its strings though he had changed just last month when he’d struck it too hard after trying to get a note right for a long time.
He moved his fingers around impersonating playing a guitar to the sound of the rain. To someone watching from far, he would look like a crazy man, but to him, it was worship. It was his work after all, nothing mattered more to him as he closed his eyes, eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration and fingers moving along the sound of rain. He swore if he had his guitar at the moment, he’d make a new melody and noted to do so later when he finds it.
“hi vogue! this is y/n, I just woke up and let’s spend twenty four hours together!” you said smiling as tom shuffled into frame, his eyes crinkled as he smiled and waved the camera, “and that’s tom who’s also gonna be a lot in this video cause we live together.” you continued as tom leaned in to kiss your cheek, the kiss lingered just like the smile on your lips.
the video cut to the a black screen with the words ‘24 hrs with y/n l/n, ft tom holland’ written in italics with purple color before cutting to you, now standing in the bathroom with a silk robe on.
“so the first thing i like to do after getting up is take a quick shower and do my skincare to just wake myself up and like feel a little good about myself so that’s exactly what we are gonna do now” you spoke to the camera.
“aww are you gonna shower without me?” tom said, whining comically.
“yes, i am” you said, looking into the camera disgusted. “anyways, i will see you guys after our shower!”
“hi vogue! this is y/n, I just woke up and let’s spend twenty four hours together!” you said smiling as tom shuffled into frame, his eyes crinkled as he smiled and waved the camera, “and that’s tom who’s also gonna be a lot in this video cause we live together.” you continued as tom leaned in to kiss your cheek, the kiss lingered just like the smile on your lips.
the video cut to the a black screen with the words ‘24 hrs with y/n l/n, ft tom holland’ written in italics with purple color before cutting to you, now standing in the bathroom with a silk robe on.
“so the first thing i like to do after getting up is take a quick shower and do my skincare to just wake myself up and like feel a little good about myself so that’s exactly what we are gonna do now” you spoke to the camera.
“aww are you gonna shower without me?” tom said, whining comically.
“yes, i am” you said, looking into the camera disgusted. “anyways, i will see you guys after our shower!”
hello everyone im back(ish)!! things have been a bit chaotic but I have missed all the talent on here. also thankyou all so so much for 900!!! nearly fainted when I saw that ;) so have a little teaser of a one shot I got done x
…
“I was gonna phone dad in the break if you fancy-“
“No abso-fucking-lutely not. Have you not seen the messages about his laptop breaking? I’m not listening to him rant about that for hours and hours on end.”
“You make him sound unbearable!”
“Tom, your the eldest child. You should’ve learnt this by now.”
“He’s just passiona-“
“He loves a moan! Just for the love of god don’t tell him I’m here and do be prepared for me to say I told you so.” The younger brother gleamed as he opened the door to his brothers (and therefore his too) trailer.
Toms newest project had been filming in Atlanta on the big Sony sets for nearly 2 months, which meant they hadn’t seen the family in that long either. True to his word though, without fail, he would always find time to call home. Something which especially recently, had been the most necessary - to keep him sane. It hadn’t been the easiest, so Tom had fallen on his most reliable support much more often.
“When did you become a moody 16 year old again?” Tom muttered, flopping on the sofa as he watched Harry sit on the beanbag across from him. It was not a surprise Harry didn’t grace his shit comeback with a response, instead just sighing - already preoccupied on his phone.
Barely 30 seconds later and Tom had to admit to himself that his younger brother was, once again, right. Dom was droning on and on as if his laptop trouble was the only issue in the world and Tom had barely got a chance to say hello. Already tuned out, his attention was easily sidetracked from the conversation to Harry- who’s phone started ringing angrily.
He took notice of how Harry’s eyebrows furrowed looking at the caller ID, clearly this was much more interesting than whatever his dad was saying.
“Hello?… umm I don’t think so, cos of what happened… Anyas number? I do have it, I don’t know that she’ll-… is everything ok?”
Tom had gone from intruiged to downright worried. Chewing on his bottom lip he sat forward, glaring at Harry intensely to try and get the insider info.
He’d already pieced together it was something to do with Y/n. Anya is her best friend, her ride or die, the person who knew her inside out. And ‘what happened’ clearly referred to what had happened between Tom and Y/n. As in the end of Tom and Y/n.
And Harry seemed worried. Which meant Tom was ten times more worried. It was Y/n after all.
Things between the two hadn’t really stopped- that was Tom’s issue these past months. It’s all good and well saying it was the end, but you just can’t stop feelings like that. Not when you’re two years deep and helplessly in love like Tom was.
And Y/n was the same too.
The breakup wasn’t for lack of emotion or love for the other. It was for the long distance, for the public pressure, for all the external factors that seemed like the end of the world.
Both of them had learnt the hard way that maybe they weren’t. That maybe they’d made a mistake.
lemme know if you want to see the rest! will hopefully be at least a wee bit less angsty at the end ;)
So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.
“Don’t follow me.”
Not now, not ever.
That had been three weeks ago.
And it still fucking hurt like hell.
It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.
Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.
After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.
Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.
Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.
And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.
It was a vicious cycle of hell.
Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.
It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.
You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.
“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.
“You never normally sleep talk.”
“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.
“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”
“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.
“Toms here.”
“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.
“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”
“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.
“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”
It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.
“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.
“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”
“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.
“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“
“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”
“I’m not babys-“
“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeh”
That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.
“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”
“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.
After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?
With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.
What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.
“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”
“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.
“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.
“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.
“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”
And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.
After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.
“So… how have you been?”
“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.
“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”
“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”
“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.
“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”
“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”
“OUR kid”
“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“
“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.
“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”
It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.
“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”
“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”
“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”
“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.
Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.
“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“
“Fuck.”
You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.
She was just kicking really really hard. Right?
“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“
Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.
“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.
“Y/n sit down I can-“
He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.
“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.
“Wha-are you-are you okay?”
“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”
~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~
|| author’s note: this was highly requested… thanks for the patience. :)
The tickle of hair being brushed behind your ear, caused you to slightly stir in sleep. Hot breath fanned your cool cheek, exposed ear and neck. Soft lips skim along your neck, the warm skin from the tip of a nose following in its slightly wet trail. Your eyebrows furrow briefly in response to being slowly pulled out of unconsciousness, yet your eyes remain closed and facial features are otherwise relaxed.
A delicate kiss is placed just behind your ear, and another on the lobe - before it’s gently tugged by teeth and taken into a warm, wet, and welcoming mouth. Low moans crawl their way up your throat, past the dryness of sleep, and nearly escape past your parted lips.
The sucking on your ear is accompanied with an acutely callus hand around your revealed waist, pulling at the hip to turn you. As you limply roll onto your back, the mouth moves with the motion, and releases your ear; kissing its way along your jaw. It travels from your chin, hovering over your lips briefly before kissing your eyelids, nose, and cheeks.
Two hands are now on either side of you, and the bed dips with the shifting weight above you. The sound of lips kissing and sucking at your neck, fill the otherwise silent room, and once those lips attach onto your sweet spot you instinctively respond vocally.
“Oh god,” you moan. It’s a rough, low, moan that’s come from deep within your throat. Naturally your head tilts back to give easier access to the spot that drives you crazy. Your eyelids flutter, and you trap your bottom lip underneath your top row of teeth.
“Mhm, is my girl finally awake?” A raspy voice mumbles against the skin of your neck, beckoning you to open your eyes. Initially flinching at the early morning sun, you blink a few times to adjust before focusing on the beautiful face hovering above yours. Tom’s skin was practically beaming from the golden glow of the sun, which highlighted his features and chestnut hair in the most spectacular way - making you feel less than adequate in contrast to him.
His head was tilted to the side in the most adorable Tom-kinda-way, and your lips curved up in a lazy smile. “There she is.” He approved, leaning down and kissing the corner of your mouth.
“Hi.” You cooed, reaching a hand up to brush his fallen curls off of his forehead. Surprising you, he takes your wrist in his hand and kisses your palm several times before releasing it. That same hand reaches down and strokes your cheek, running its knuckles along it.
“Sorry I woke you… you just looked so damn beautiful.” Tom sighs in awe. Hooking your arms around his neck, you chuckle through your nose. “You’re not too bad yourself, you know?”
Using your arms, you pull him down into a kiss. He leans into your mouth, adding more force to the kiss, and he slides his hands further up the bed so his body dips flush against yours. His tongue teases your lips, asking for permission, which you grant; almost immediately regretting doing so when you taste the minty freshness of his mouth in contrast to yours. Nevertheless, his tongue greedily spills into your mouth, tasting and exploring every inch of it. A small moan that he releases vibrates the inside of your mouth, erasing any preceding insecurities.
One of Tom’s hands slides down to your knees, separating them with a gentle push, and wedging his hips between your legs. His sweatpant-clad bulge presses against your clothed heat, and your hips respond immediately bucking up into it. Another moan falls into your mouth, which encourages you to continue grinding yourself into him.
His hips press roughly into yours, desperate for more contact, as you run yourself along his length; groaning loudly when your clit makes contact with his tip through the thin fabric of your panties. You break away from the kiss, gasping in precious air, as Tom busies himself with your neck - kissing you in the spots he had before. You can feel his growing erection underneath the concentration of your grinding, and the stutter of his hips tells you it’s driving him crazy.
“Jesus, I need you. Now.” Tom hisses, ripping away from your neck and sitting back on his knees. With one swift motion, he grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it over his head, discarding it on the floor. Idly, you bask in the presence of the beautiful image that is a shirtless Tom, as his fingers hook into the sides of your panties, and pull them hurriedly down your legs, tossing them along side his shirt on the floor.
Shifting his sweats down enough to expose his erection, he resettles between your legs, aligning himself with your hips. Using one hand to hold himself up, the other guides himself into you, easily sinking in as deep as he can go - your body naturally welcoming him. “Mhmm, fuck.” You groan, reaching out and grasping onto his biceps, squeezing tightly.
Tom readjusts himself so his weight is proped onto his elbows, one of his hands grabs yours, intertwining your fingers, while the other cups your chin; angling you appropriately before kissing you with fever.
His thrusts are slow yet deep, and they manage to hit your g-spot with every precise motion. Using your free hand, you tangle your fingers in Tom’s hair - briefly noting and appreciating its natural, soft and sleek state - pulling roughly at the loose curls. He groans in response, pulling away from the kiss, resting his face in the crook of your neck which he bites softly.
Your eyes flutter shut, allowing you to become more heighten aware of the pleasure inside you, and your insides clench around Tom in response. He moans a faint “darling” into the soft skin of your neck, and lets out a brief spew of profanities as your legs, which are around his waist, begin to tremble.
“God, you’re so sexy-” he breathes, as he lifts his face to yours again, “even this early in the morning.” You can’t help but grin at the compliment, and kiss him everywhere on his face.
Tom’s hand that had found its way around your neck, squeezes it gently a few times, before falling down, trailing its fingertips over your smooth, senstitive skin until they reach your clit. Thrusting your hips in response, he begins circling it with enough needed pressure to send you over the brink of your orgasm.
It hits you like a tsunami wave, unexpectedly and harshly crashing over your entire body, causing your back to arch and toes to curl. Tom’s thrusts grow sloppy as he reaches his own climax, his grip on your hand tightening - knuckles a visible sheet of white.
“Oh, babe.” Tom sighs contentedly, collapsing onto of you, resting his forehead against yours. Your hand continues to run through his hair, soothing him into relaxation as the two of you catch your breath. You lay like this for what feels like an eternity, a peacefully perfect eternity that you’d die happy knowing you’d remain in forever.
Eventually Tom shifts, pulling himself out of you, causing you to wince slightly, and he takes his hand from yours, using it to brush hair stuck to your sweaty forehead back into place. “So pretty.” He whispers, almost absentmindedly, as he examines your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.
Both your hands fall to his cheeks, pulling him down into a slow, sweet, sensual kiss. “I love you.” You mumble against his lips. You feel his smile, before he pulls back to look at you, a grin splitting his face nearly into two.
“I love you too, princess. More than you know.” It’s such a sweet sentiment, you can’t help but giggle. Kissing him again, falling more and more in love with him every time you do so. You were in deep, and there was no way you could pull yourself back out, not even if you wanted to… especially if you had more mornings like this.
|| author’s note: never forget the time when tom was asked to choose between french fries or french kiss, and homeboy said french kiss!
Never in your life, had you felt more relaxed. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the snow covered lawn, and the polished wood floor of the cabin you were staying at. Occasionally, the wood in the fireplace would crackle, causing splinters to fall out of order.
The warmth from the fire spread through the cabin, enclosing itself around you. After a filling gourmet dinner, that Tom had so graciously prepared for the two of you, you were snuggled against his side on the sofa. One of his hands stroked your hair rhythmically, while the other played with your fingers.
Your feet were tucked securely underneath him, and with your free hand you were drawing imaginary shapes on his clad chest. The two of you just lay there, in comfortable silence, while your food settled.
“Where did you learn to cook so well?” You asked, tracing the outline of his collarbones with your index finger. You could sense his smile.
“My dad’s a real good cook, so’s my mum, I guess I’ve just unintentionally picked up things over the years.” He responds after a beat, the vibration of his voice rattling underneath your ear.
“Well, dinner was delicious,” you mumble, lifting your head to kiss him, “thank you.” Placing a swift peck on his lips, you move to pull away, but Tom’s hand comes up to stroke your cheek - beckoning you for another kiss. “You’re more than welcome,” he murmurs against your lips, before pressing his into yours.
With each peck, your lips become harder to pull away, slowly molding together. Running his hand from your hair, down to the back of your neck, he holds you in place as your mouth opens wider for the kiss. Taking the invitation, he slides his tongue into your mouth, teasing its way along yours.
You moan quietly at the contact, and pull yourself so you’re almost completely on top of him, entangling your hands into his soft hair. Tentatively, your tongue slips out, and runs itself along his. This is not the first time you’ve kissed like this, but each time you still find yourself amazed by the fact, that he tastes every bit as good as he looks.
As your tongue massages against his, coaxing a few faint groans out of him, you feel him growing restless, as his hands snake down your body to grip your backside. Slowly shoving you over, so you’re on your back, Tom shifts so he’s hovering over you - never breaking the contact of the kiss. At this angle, his tongue is able to dive deeper into your mouth, and it does, sampling ever inch of you.
Tom’s kisses have always had a way of captivating you, it was if the world stopped and started with your mouth. His tongue could be so forceful, yet tentative. Slow, yet quick-paced and calculated. It knew its way around your mouth, and just what way to stroke you to have you putty in his hands.
In desperate need for air, you pull away from the kiss, and Tom occupies his mouth on your exposed neck. The sound of his lips suckling on your skin, and your labored breathing fill the silence in the room - adding to the intensity of the heat from the fireplace.
Your hands move into his hair, briefly urging him on, before running down his shoulders. Silently noting, and praising, the feel of them flexing underneath your palms. “Babe,” Tom breathes against your skin, “you’re so fuckingpretty.”
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull his body flush against yours, as his lips return their attention to your mouth. “I (kiss), love, (kiss), you, (kiss).” You whisper against his mouth, grabbing his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging it down gently.
“I love you too.” He grunts, before kissing you fervously - pouring all his need, appreciation, and love into it. As his tongue dances with yours, and his hips lightly grind into you, you can no longer contain the desire clawing it’s way through you.
Without breaking contact with his lips, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull upwards; briefly parting from the kiss, so you can pull it over his head. Once his lips are back on yours, his hands find their way underneath your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra.
“I think,” he exhales against your swollen lips, “it’s time for dessert.”
You smirk up at him, running a hand through his make out-tousled hair. “You’re in luck.” He smiles knowingly down at you. “Dessert is my specialty.”
|| summary: waking tom up in an extra special way ;)
|| author’s note: sorry i’ve been away for sooo long. school’s been hectic. hope you guys are still alive!
An impending call from your balder, had woken you up at 6a.m on one of the few saturdays you actually get off. The air was brisk from the balcony door, Tom had absentmindedly left open that night; making climbing out of the comfort of your warm bed, to satisfy your balder, all that more difficult.
Wandering back into the bedroom, you quickly slid underneath the sheets and snuggled into Tom’s warm backside, causing him to shift. “Christ, you’re freezing.” Tom grumbled out from the side of his pillow, slightly muffling his words.
“Not my fault you left the door open.” You retort, shivering against him, and tucking your feet securely underneath his legs. Sighing sleepily, Tom turns to face you, opening his arms and allowing you to crawl further into his warm embrace. His t-shirt clad chest, was a welcome contrast to the chilled blankets on your side of the bed, that had cooled in your brief absence.
Resting your head in the crook of his neck, Tom wraps his arms around you, stroking your backside lazily. “Sorry.” He mumbles drowsily. You kiss his neck in response, letting him know it’s okay. The flush you feel spread across his skin, under your lips, is an encouraging feeling; espically because it’s very apparent that he’s fallen back asleep - which means his body instinctively responds to your touch like this.
Biting your lip, you get an awfully delicious idea in your head. Despite the quiet snores now coming from Tom, you lean forward and begin kissing Tom’s neck - sucking at his sweet spot, which is just along his jugular. You feel Tom’s hips shift forward slightly, and he stirs, his faint snoring dissipating. While sucking, your tongue slips out and slides along his warm skin.
A low groan claws its way up Tom’s throat, begging to be released. “Darling,” Tom breathes, “what are y-you doing?” Pulling back slightly, you watch as Tom’s eyes flutter, but remain shut, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Apologizing for waking you with my cold feet.” Returning your attention to his neck, you kiss along his adams apple, up to his jaw, then across it to his lips. His mouth had fallen open slightly, giving you easy access to his warm, wet mouth. Moaning in surprise, Tom’s soft lips move against yours, while his tongue slides out to meet yours, sliding against its sides - dancing with it.
You revel in what a good kisser he is, even this early in the morning, and slip your hands underneath his shirt; briefly massaging against his skin before pushing lightly, so he turns onto his back. Never breaking the contact of the kiss, you climb over his body, straddling his waist, while your tongues coax moans out of one another.
Tom’s hands instinctively reach out to grip your waist, squeezing your ass gently, before sliding up under your shirt to stroke your backside. Breaking away from the kiss for air, you allow Tom to busy himself on your neck; spreading wet, needy kisses along it, while you catch your breath.
“Sofucking beautiful. A damn angel.” Tom praises in between kisses, his lips quickly trailing back up to your mouth, desperate for more. Before his lips can meet yours, you begin sliding down his body, noting the feeling of his growing erection as you do so.
Hitching up his shirt, you begin kissing along his abdomen, working your way down to his pelvis. Tom shifts eagerly beneath your lips, anticipating what he knows is going to follow. Glancing up at him, you find his eyes on you, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
The look of hunger that’s spread into his, now, smoldering brown eyes, causes you to instinctively squeeze your thighs together - your own hunger sprouting up inside you.
Your lips dance their way across the waistline of his sweats, from hipbone to hipbone, beckoning him to squirm even more. Tugging his sweats down a tantalizingly short amount, you continue to kiss and lick your way across his v-line. As your eyes wander up to watch him, his head falls back, your hands begin massaging his thighs; just nearing his erection, but never actually touching it.
“Baby, please. Fuck.” Tom huffs, clearly riled up and even more yearnful for your mouth on him. Deciding on giving him what he wants, but making sure to tease him some more, you tug his sweats down to his mid thigh, and begin kissing your way back up them. Your hand reaches forward to cup his balls, massaging them in your hand.
“Holy,” Tom groans loudly, and throws his head back against the pillows with evident force. Your other hand comes up and strokes him gently a few times, before you lower your mouth and kiss his crown; then take him into your mouth - as far down as you can do. “Shit.” Tom seethes between clenched teeth, resisting the urge to buck himself further into your mouth.
Your head begins bobbing up and down on him, your free hand stroking what you can’t take in your mouth, while the other comes up to his thigh in attempt to steady yourself on him. Pulling your lips back, you very lightly graze your teeth along him, mixing that sensation with the soft swirl of your tongue. Tom’s hips buck in response, pushing him to the back of your throat, a spurt of precum releasing in response.
“Sorry, sorry. Fuck, just, oh my god- just do that again. Please.” Tom whimpers, his hands fisting into the bedsheets. You comply, repeating the process multiple times. Tom growls low in his throat, as he tries to contain his moan.
Pulling him out of your mouth briefly, you lick up the sides of him, from the base to the tip. “Tom, I wanna hear you.” You coo, hesitating to pull him back into your mouth. “Okay?”
He nods, eyes closed and head thrown back, his knuckles a white sheet as he waits for you to continue. “Okay.” He pants, shifting beanthe you. Grabbing one of his hands, you lift it up to your hair. “It turns me on when you pull it.” You murmur, peaking up at him through your lashes.
He smirks down at you, holding your stare as you pull him back into your mouth. As you continue the same process as before, Tom’s hand intermediately tugs your hair, roughly pulling at the roots; in response to your steady pace.
Helping guide you, he finds a desirable pace and continues to hold your head steady while he slow slides himself in and out of your mouth; watching you the entire time.
“So good,” he pants, “you… your mouth is so fucking good.” His pace quickens as he feels himself nearing the edge, and you support yourself on his thighs with both hands.
“God, of fuck, yes.” Tom’s hips sloppily ride himself through his orgasm as he cums in your mouth. Desperately trying to swallow all of it, you pull him out of your mouth and lick him clean.
Before you can wipe your mouth, Tom pulls you up his body by your shoulders, and kisses you headily. His tongue not hesitating to slip into your mouth, despite him begin able to taste himself. “You are perfect.” He praises against your lips, causing you to smile. “I try.”
You slide off him, laying on your side next to him, while he pulls up his sweats. “Well, one things for damn sure.” He breathes, turning to face you. “And what’s that?”
“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.
|| 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.
|| summary: originally paid to be an escort for the notorious mob family, the hollands, the reader and tom meet which embarks them on a very precarious relationship that threatens everything tom and his family have built.
|| author’s note: this is really really long, sorry but i had to set the mood for the story ya know? if you enjoyed, and want me to continue, let me know.
warnings: this story will contain smut, violence, lanaguage, and other heavy themes so read at your own risk!
“No way. No way in hell.” You shake your head aggressively, pushing the thick fluorescent-yellow envelope back to the other side of the table.
“Girl, this is fast, easy money. A crap ton of money.” Your friend, Danielle broached desperately from her chair opposite yours. Using the term ‘friend’ tentatively, because the only thing the two of you have in common is this side business you do on occasion to make ends meet.
“Having rich, old, lonely men take me on fancy dinners is one thing. But going to a party with some of the most dangerous people in the city, possibly even in the country, that’s on a whole other level.” You flatten your lips in defiance, your disposition cementing as Danielle struggles to find a rhyme or reason for you to participate in tonight’s event.
“Look, it’s just one night and you don’t have to fuck anyone you don’t want to, same as before. You’re just there to look pretty on some big shots arm, and then your rent,” she waves the envelope at you, “is paid in full for the next few months. Easy.” Resting your elbows on the table, you place your head in your hands, and sigh heavily. The slight shift in your demeanor is taken as a sign of vulnerability, and Danielle uses it as an opportunity to play on your emotions. “I really need this money, but I don’t want to go into this party without at least a familiar face to keep me company.”
Peaking at her through your fingers, you note that she has on her best pleading face, and her bottom lip is curved out into a prominent pout. Exhaling a long exasperated breath, you concede, reaching for the money. “Fine, but I’m not going to become some personal prostitute for the Holland family. We clear?” Her face splits into a shit-eating grin, and she nods enthusiastically. “Crystal.”
Just like that, you’d signed yourself away for a night with the most notorious crime family in modern London history; which was probably more dangerous and reckless, than if you’d agreed to sign your soul away to the devil - except the devil wouldn’t pay as well as the Hollands did.
“Oh, and there’s a certain dress code you have to follow tonight, so be sure to pick up your dress from this place.” Danielle extends a wrinkled paper to you, with numbers scribbled on it. You eye it with uncertainty, but take it nonetheless, typing the address into your phone. “I’ll call and tell them you’re in, see you tonight. Driver will be there at 7 sharp.” She beams, her giddiness evident in her near-skip as she walks to the door.
When Google Maps loads to the location, your jaw pops open, and you glance around the room in shock as if anyone else could see what you’re looking at. The directions had opened to the most expensive designer dress store in the entire city and as much as you hated to admit it, your curiosity was peaked. As was your interest in tonight’s event, and its host.
__________________________________________
The dress was stunning, as it should be for its pretty price, a delicate satin shade of pearl-white colored its surface. Its thin straps clung tightly to your shoulders, allowing the otherwise loose material to hang promisingly over your assets. It was as if the gown had been tailored to fit you like a glove, clinging to you in just the right ways, and amplifying the tone of your skin with its illuminating color.
Your eyes scanned over the figure reflected in your bathroom mirror, stunned by every intricate detail that had been woven into your final appearance. For your face, you’d kept it simple, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself, by highlighting your features in the most natural way possible. However, for your lips you’d chosen a radiant red, amplifying their curves and plumpness. As for your hair, a simple updo sufficed in order to expose your long neck and the lace-tied back of your dress.
The time read 6:58, and with one final glance at yourself in the mirror, you moved to head down stairs. Just as you grabbed your clutch purse, there was a forceful knock at the door that caused you to jump slightly in surprise. Checking through the peep hole, you discovered a blonde man dressed in a perfectly tailored black and white suit; your driver, you presumed. Timidly, you opened the door, taking a small cautious step back at the looming figure before you.
“Miss (y/l/n),” he greeted coldly polite, his striking blue eyes piercing into yours, “I’m Mr. Osterfield. I will be your driver for the evening.” His name was Harrison, you’d come to recognize him as the Holland’s right hand man; wherever they seemed to go, he was sure to follow close behind. “How did you know my room number?” You question, your eyes racking up and down his body in acute suspicion.
“The receptionist in the lobby gave it to me.” He responds flatly, bored with the indifferent curiosity presented in your demeanor. “That’s confidential information, he wouldn’t of just given it to you.” You retort, the underlying accusation in your tone breaks his stiff features for a split second, a smirk creeping at the corners of his lips. “I can be very persuasive when I need to be.” The glimmer in his eyes sends warning sirens off in your brain, alerting to you the justifiable apprehension spreading in the pit of your stomach. “Come, we don’t want to be late.” He offers you his arm, which take after another moment of silent contemplation, wondering if you’d just made a terrible mistake.
__________________________________________
The building was magnificent, every detail precisely and intricately molded into place to form the entire mansion. The walls were painted with decorative colors of gold and white, which made them cold yet alluring at the same time. The marble floor was waxed to perfection, making it almost painful to walk on, afraid to dirty or smudge it. With high ceiling and vast corridors, the shuddering sense of small inadequacy in comparison was palpable; making you all the more uneasy. Harrison had stayed by your side, escorting you through two doorways, before reaching a large, remarkably crowded room. It was alight with music, idle conversations, and a few staggeringly uneasy laughs.
As you entered into the room, the noise was brought to a dismal spew of hushed voices, as most eyes turned to you. No doubt captivated by your dress and unfamiliar face, peaked with lustful curiosity. For the first time since you left the apartment, you’d silently wished that Harrison had stayed by your side; suddenly feeling unprotected. In desperate need of a distraction, you busied yourself by scanning the room for Danielle’s olive face. For a change, seeing it would be a rare pleasantry; one you’d be more than happy to take full advantage of. Unable to spot her, you timidly walk towards the bar, unsure of what to do with yourself, but wanting nothing more than be away from the doorway, and the center of everyone’s attention.
This was your first time being thrown blindly into a room with more than one potential client, and knowing that every one of them is more dangerous than they appear, only fueled your apprehensions. Before the well-dressed bartender could pay you any mind, seeing as he was currently being hassled about some drink mishap, a broad middle-aged man takes the available seat opposite you. Instinctively, your eyes flicker over to meet his, and you almost immediately regret doing so. There’s no name to the face, but it’s all too familiar. You’d seen this man on the news serveral times, and not because he was being applauded for his acts as good a samaritan.
Mainly, it was speculation as to whether or not he was connected to the latest crime; robbery, political bribery, or murder. From the impression you got, he had at least one hand in every politicians cookie jar, leading you to believe that he was probably more powerful and influential than most people in this room. But even so, there was one person who he still answered to, and that was Hollands. The thought alone, terrified you.
In hopes to avoid conversation, you ripped your eyes away from his, drawing your gaze back towards the preoccupied bartender. Though your eyes were elsewhere, you weren’t blind to the presence next to you. From what you’d seen, he was dressed in a designer black and purple tinted suit, with a sapphire colored handkerchief and undershirt. His jet black hair was slicked back, flattened against the top of his head, and he had serveral rings on. However, the detail that struck you the most, was his electric green eyes; the stare behind them was intense and harsh. They were not a welcoming or calming shade or green, more of a warning color; the kind that alerted you to the type of man you were dealing with - one who was not to be tussled around.
“My, my. Someone’s rude.” His clipped tone rang clear through the air, scratching its way along your skin, before biting into your ear. It was difficult to remain, or appear to be, calm and collected; unfazed by his threatening attitude. Nevertheless, you exercised your strong will and backbone, turning to face him with a polite smile. “Pardon me, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Extending your hand out to him, you tilt your head to the side in welcome, hoping it will calm the rage burning his glare.
His eyes don’t falter from yours as he takes your hand, shaking it slowly. The skin is surprisingly rough, the tops of his hands hairy with age, and the warmth in his grasp is unsettling. He shakes your hand for too long, as if to drag out the experience, in hopes to subdue you with its evident intimidating-effect over you. Eventually, he pulls his hand away from yours and uses his free fingers to stroke along the corners of his mustache.
“You know, you’re the first girl to show up tonight. I’m not sure how the others expect to top this.” He gestures to your body with his free hand, his eyes following it, unabashedly racking up and down your figure. “I think they’ll manage to surprise you.” You smile tightly, tempted to turn back around, but the unsurness of what would happen if you did, stops you.
He shakes his head, dismissing himself from deep thought, a faint hum falling from his parted lips. “Don’t know how Tom expects me to fucking wait,” he growls under his breath, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them with a newfound determination, “screw it.” He grasps your wrist tightly, taken by surprise it outweighs the pain from his grip, your feet barely keeping up with him as he practically drags you into the crowd.
Blinking at his back, your mouth is open, ready to protest but having no idea what to say or how to articulate it into words. You’re here, being paid as an escort, so you’re not exactly in a position to say no. This had never happened to you before, the men you’d been out with never asked for anything more than a kiss on the cheek at the end of a very expensive dinner, that they had paid for. Danielle had said you didn’t have to fuck anyone you didn’t want to, but you were now getting the feeling that that’s what it meant on paper, not necessarily what was actually going to happen. How exactly did she expect you to turn down the most notorious mobsters in London; if they wanted to take you, they were going to. But, you’d be damned if you’d go quietly.
Tugging on his grasp, you manage to loosen it enough to free your wrist, ignoring the sting from your skin burning as you straighten your posture - tightening your hands around your purse in attempts to reign in control over them. “What do you think you’re doing?” His head whips around to face yours, and if looks could kill. Narrowing your eyes at him, you flatten your lips in defiance, taken slightly aback by his gaul.
“No, what do you think you’re doing?” Your comment is only mildly assertive, not wanting to anger him more than he appears to be now. “I’m not being paid to allow you to do with me as you please.” His mouth falls open, shocked more than anything else, and he chuckles bitterly. “You’re a whore, who’s being paid to make sure that I’m satisfied. And taking you to my limo, then fucking you senseless, would beyond satisfy me.” As his hand reaches for you again, you step back, feeling a muscular arm wrap around your waist as you do so. Turning your head, your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, eyes widening as your jaw pops open.
The man beside you is none other than Tom Holland, the youngest and newest king of the Holland family business. The whisperings you’d heard of him were no better than the man across from you, but knowing that he was the one behind the curtain, pulling all the strings; orchestrating every crime these men were committing, was enough to send shivers up your spine. Nearly trembling in his loose grasp, he skates his thumb soothingly over the exposed skin at the back of your dress, the contact causing you to verbally gasp.
“Tony,” Tom address flatly, “what’s going on here?” He’s yet to look at you, but his side features are unmistakably tense. His jaw is tight and his eyes are narrowed, all of his attention aimed at Tony; who’s now practically shaking under the scrutiny. “Mr. Holland, I apologize if I made a scene-”
Tom stops him with a simple, but swift, wave of his hand, shaking his head slightly. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked what was going on.” The menacing inflection in which he spoke, sent clear signals that he was someone who, when demanding something, better be met with no resistance or sorry excuses. “Sir, I was just, she- we- I, was taking her to- we were only going to be gone a few moments.”
You had to admit that it was immensely satisfying to watch a once seemingly unstoppable force, fluster over himself in fear; like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The irony causes you to smile slightly. “Tony, you are a guest in my house, as is this lovely woman, and I expect that my guests are treated with respect. That includes respecting one another. Now, no matter what way you try to spin it, there is no excuse for touching her the way you did, and I find it extremely rude that you placed your hands on my escort, disobeying my specific instructions. Now, I want you to leave.”
Tony has fallen silent, clinging to Tom’s every word, nodding his head in quiet obedience before quickly leaving without another comment. The power that Tom wields over these tycoons is astonishing, and you can’t help but wonder if you perhaps judged him too soon; maybe he wasn’t as bad as he appears to be. After all, he did just save you from a mad man.
“Thank you.” Your words are a barely an audible whisper, and if he wasn’t standing so close, he wouldn’t of heard you. For the first time, since he joined your side, he turns to face you. Releasing your waist, he steps back, giving you his attention. As his features begin to flood into your vision, you can’t help but note how uniquely attractive he is. The way his brown curls were styled neatly into perfection, and faint freckles danced their way along his cheeks, was stunning. Everything about him was arranged in such a particular order, that it was as if God crafted and handpicked Tom’s appearance himself.
His eyes were a glowing melt of brown, and they were hard to resist when they met yours with such intimacy. As if he’d known you for years. One of his eyes brows raises at you in question, and you immediately feel the need to clarify. “For stepping in when you did.” You explain, awkwardly shifting under his stare.
“Not a problem, love.” His voice has changed, it’s much warmer now, a smooth melody to your ears; surprisingly welcoming. “I don’t like to share my women.” Just as the words fall from his mouth, that brief fleeting moment of open-mindedness is thrown out the window, and you can’t help but blink at him in disgust. “Your women?” You seethed, crossing your arms defensively.
“Yes.” He remarks blankly, as if its the most obvious concept in the world. “And what makes you think that, exactly?” As powerful and intimidating as he is, there’s a self-restraint to him; giving you a false sense of security in the hopes that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you physically, if you lashed out. He licks his lips, clicking his tongue while shaking his head slightly, a smile curving at corners of his mouth. “Are you not at my event, wearing a dress I bought, and not doubt happily counting that payment you recieved from me earlier?” He’s taken a few steps towards you, closing what little distance remained between the you two. “That doesn’t mean-”
“What it means,” he interjects, “is that for tonight, I own you.” The authority in his assertion sends chills up your spine, destroying what backbone you had, leaving you feeling small and vulnerable. You’d thought he stepped in to protect you from Tony’s attack, but in reality he was simply staking his claim, marking what was his. It was clear now that you were at his mercy, to do with as he pleased, not anyone else. “Now, what do you fancy?” He offers, gesturing towards the bar, hooking his arm through yours and leading you back over to it. Your mind has become blank, leaving you at complete loss for words.
“I think red wine to match that delicious color on your lips.” He decides, pulling the bartenders attention with his fingers and ordering you a drink. As he extends the glass to you, he pauses before placing it into your awaiting hand, “what do you say?” His eyes are daggers, piercing into yours, flaring with an underlying enigmatic energy you hadn’t noticed before. Fortunately your autopilot has begun to function and saves you from any further mishap, “thank you, Mr. Holland.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he places the glass in your hand, being sure to brush his fingers along yours. The contact tightens the coil of apprehension and worry growing in your stomach, and you raise the liquid courage to your mouth, welcoming its taste. “Now, may I have this dance…” He pauses, awaiting your name. “(Y/N).” You mumble into the rim of the glass.
“(Y/N)”, he repeats before offering his hand to yours.
__________________________________________
For the rest of the evening Tom had been nothing, if not an absolute gentleman, nearly allowing you to forget the vicious words he’d spoken earlier. When it came time for the conclusion of the party, every other woman that had showed up, escorted the men to their rooms for the evening. It came as no surprise to you when Tom began leading you to one of the various bedrooms in the house, and after several glasses of wine you felt more confident than before - less skittish and weak.
The room he led you in to was magnificent, and was appropriately sized in comparison to the other parts of the house you’d seen; tall ceiling, white king size bed with a glorious carved headboard to match, and double doors that led out to a balcony which overlooked the property. As beautiful as the room was, it had no personality. There was no signature color, design or any other distinguishing characteristics; which was a real indicator that led you to believe it was nothing more than a cookie cutter bedroom.
“Is this your room?” You questioned, glancing over your shoulder at him as you continued into the bedroom. “No,” he shook his head, undoing the buttons of his jacket, “I don’t take anyone to mine. This is one of my various guest beds.” Whether or not it was his intention, you were insulted that he didn’t see you as worthy of being brought to his room. Turning to face him, you’re half tempted to display your disgust but air on the side of caution and concede on saying nothing. Shrugging his jacket off, he folds it before placing it on the foot of the bed. He hooks his fingers into his bow tie, disheveling it enough so that it hangs loosely around his neck.
As much as you wish you were, you’re not immune to his prepossessing features, and even with your inherit distaste towards him, you can’t help but wonder what he’d be like in bed. Before he can catch you gawking at him, you look down at your fingers, toying with your manicured nails. Each step you sense him making towards you, adds to the feeling of entrapment; suffocating you to the point of fear. The shine of his patent leather shoes comes into view, as he stands before you. At such close proximity, you catch a whiff of his delectable cologne, no doubt designer, and you close your eyes at the smell - inhaling deeply.
One of his hands reaches forward, placing his index finger under you chin to lift it, bringing your gaze to meet his. “Don’t worry, darling.” His breath is hot against the cool of your cheeks, and the contact, no matter the amount, of him touching you is unnerving. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.” He assures, his eyes softening as his thumb runs along your jaw before stroking your cheek. The sensation is pleasant, but nonetheless a reminder of what his intentions are.
“Aren’t you though? Taking advantage of women, because you’ve asserted your power and wealth over them, which gives you some demented delusion that they’re your property to do with as you please.” The words fly out of your mouth before you have time to filter or stop them, and your eyes cautiously scan his face to gauge his reaction. Tom’s eyebrows raise in disbelief, as his mouth pops open in attempts to compose a structured sentence. His hand falls from your face and he quietly scoffs, shaking his head slightly.
“I’mnot a fucking rapist.” The revulsion in his voice is palpable, and he narrows his eyes at you, taken aback by your subtle accusation. By how offended he appears to be, there’s a small sting of shame and guilt growing in your side, for lashing out. “It’s just,” he runs an exasperated hand through his hair, “this is how the night usually ends with women like you.”
“Women like me?” You bait, blinking at him in question. “Whores.” He clarifies, almost dismissively, as if he knew of some preceding lifestyle you’ve had. “I am not a whore.” You refute, glaring at him. He gives you a doubtful smile, a hint of amusement hiding behind his hooded eyes. “For your information, I’ve never slept with a client in my life, but I can see how you might’ve missed that, as you’ve been too busy basking in your own arrogance to be able to understand anything about anyone besides yourself.”
His expression shifts again, leaning more towards amusement than anything else, and for the first time of the night, he smiles to his eyes, revealing his teeth. They’re perfectly shaped and arranged, a beaming shade of porcelain white that immediately captivates your attention. Damn he’s beautiful. “What?” You snap at his chuckles, attempting to conceal your smile with annoyance.
“I’d just love to see what other skills your mouth has, besides putting me in my place.” He’s smirking now, and his eyes have darkened several shades, their attention falling to your mouth. Instinctively, your tongue darts out to wet your lips, noting his reaction when you do so. “Well, that’s not going to happen.” You feign certainty, ignoring the fact that his bottom lip is caught between his teeth; which is one of the sexiest sights you swore you’ve ever seen.
“Fortunately, I’m a patient man.” He chortled, his hand coming up to tuck a fallen hair behind your ear. “Can patience wait till never?” Sarcasm is dripping off of every word that falls from your mouth, but you’re throughly amused by this childish bickering. “Oh, you give yourself too much credit, kitten,” he sighs, “eventually you’ll give in, and I can not wait for the day I see you on your knees below me.” His thumb strokes over your ear, tugging gently at the lobe before dropping his hand back to his side.
The vitality between you has become much too intense, the air practically cracking underneath the tension, and you know if you stay what might happen. You refuse to allow yourself to become a pawn in his game. Another notch in his belt. Another nameless face that he’d soon forget after having his fill of you. You respected yourself too much to become victim to his persuasions, and with that understanding, you ached for freedom.
“Can I go home?” You murmur, swallowing hard. For what feels like the hundredth, you watch as his expression shifts into conflict and confusion at something you’ve said. “You wanna leave?” He sounds surprised, but also acutely offended. You nod silently, tearing your gaze away from his to reexamine your fingers as you did before. There’s a long moment of silence, before he eventually sighs in defeat, walking over to the phone on the bedside table.
There’s an exchange of hushed words, then he hangs up the call, walking over to the bed to grab his jacket. “Come, I’ll walk you out.” He opens the door, stepping to the side and allowing you to take the lead. The walk through the halls is taken in comfortable, but deafening silence, neither of you sure what to say to the other. As you approach the entry way to the house, Tom stops you with a gentle tug on your arm. “Here,” he shrugs off his jacket, placing it over your shoulders, “it’s cold outside.”
The act is seemingly absentminded to him, but it’s such an unexpected and endearing gesture that you feel a flush spreading along your cheeks. “Thank you.” You smile, snuggling into the warmth and comfort of the silk inner-lining of his jacket. Stepping into the brisk breeze of the night, you become immensely more grateful for the comfort provided by the additional clothing, pulling the sleeves tightly around you. The valet turns to you both and smiles politely, “the car should be coming around any second, sir.” Tom nods in acknowledgement, shifting so that he’s closer to you.
“Am I the only girl leaving?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Well, you were paid for the full night, as were the others, so technically you’re not supposed to leave. But, yes. You are.” There’s a hint of admiration behind his remark, as if he’s proud that his girl decided not stay and fuck him like the others. To be completely honest, he was. Of course, he wanted you and he wouldn’t of been disappointed if you did stay, but that would’ve been much too boring. You had set yourself apart, refusing to sleep with Tony and him, made you interesting. A challenge that Tom was more than happy to fight for.
Within a few seconds the limo pulls around the front of the house, a different man from before stepping out to open the door for you. Tom walks you to the car, dismissing the driver with a glance, then turning to face you. “I would say goodbye, but I have a feeling I’ll see you again. Sooner or later.” His tone is very matter-of-fact, but his eyes are pooling with hopefulness. “Don’t hold your breath.” You half-chuckle, moving to take off his jacket. “Keep it,” he interjects, waving his hand, “I’ve got a hundred just like it.” Smiling at him, you lean forward and place a swift but tantalizingly sweet kiss on his cheek. Staining it with your florescent red imprint. “Good night, Tom.” His eyes meet yours again, alight with a newfound determination, and softness to them you hadn’t seen before. “Good night, (Y/N).”
Stepping into the car, Tom shuts the door behind you, and watches at you drive off into the night. With the comfort of the leather upholstery beneath you, and the warmth of Tom’s jacket, which you would later come to find out that he had discreetly placed his number inside one of its pocket, your eyes slowly started to flutter shut. Intoxicated by the smell of him surrounding you, you were inevitably pulled into a quick sleep, your mind instinctively conjuring up thoughts of Tom.
Unaware of it at the time, but this would be the first of many nights, where your dreams would drift to him. He would come to own your every thought and waking moment, teasing and tormenting you with his presence. As Tom had predicted, you’d given yourself too much credit. You were his, and you were going to find yourself on your knees for him, sooner or later.
|| author’s note: depending on what you guys think, i may or may not make this into a series, so let me know. also tons of angst in this!!
The hold you had on your clutch purse was so tight that your knuckles had become a visible sheet of white. As you stormed down the empty corridor your heels clicked and echoed off the marble floor and high ceiling, like a war drum; alerting anyone within earshot that you were not to be fucked with right now.
Basking in your own stubborn self-righteousness, you ignored the pleas chasing after you and continued down the hall, making a direct line for the parking lot. “Hey, hey. Stop.” Finally a deseperate hand caught your arm, pulling you to an abrupt halt. Quickly snatching it away, you move to walk again but Tom turns and stands in front of you - effectively keeping you from leaving. “What is your problem?” His voice is sharp and hushed, his eyes burning an intense shade of brown.
You raise your eyebrows in surprise, your mouth popping open at his unmitigated gall. “My problem?” You sneer through gritted teeth, “you’re unfucking-believable. You know that?” He cocks his head at you, straining the muscles in his neck until they soundly crack, a common kink he has the tendency to do when he’s mad. Really fucking mad. “I’m unbelievable? I’m not the one that just stormed out of a room like a petulant child, forcing me to leave my very powerful, and highly-irritable guests unattended. Which by the way, is not a great reflection of me as host, or a business partner.” His voice has raised, and his hands are held in fists, balled up in his pockets, restraining themselves against the tight material of his dress pants.
“I didn’t make you come after me.” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. His features flatten, and he sighs heavily. “Yet here I am,” he remarks bitterly, “so why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong.” It’s not a request, and at this point you know arguing would just be fighting an uphill battle that you’re inevitably bound to lose. Tom is the only person you know more stubborn than you. “I don’t feel comfortable with the way that woman was talking to you. Nor do I appreciate being covertly placed into the corner of the room, like a stray mutt with rabies. Are you ashamed of me or something?”
Tom looks slightly surprised by your sudden unabashed omissions of neglect, but also acutely annoyed. “If I was ashamed of you,” he takes a step forward, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket to cup your chin, “you wouldn’t have been in that room.” His thumb skates over your bottom lip, and dances its way over to your cheek which it strokes gently. Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to his touch momentarily, but the feeling of his hand on you only echos the image of the way it was touching the bitch in the red dress earlier. You turn your head away from his hand and shake it slightly.
“That’s not enough for me,” you sibilate, “I won’t be treated like some side whore, while you parade around with those prestigious women because of their association to men with titles that can help further your business.” You take in a shaky, but steadying breath as you straighten your shoulders; bracing yourself for Tom’s outrage.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Tom shakes his head in dismay, “come on, let’s go.” He grabs your arm forcibly and moves to lead you back towards the party, but you immediately tug it free. “No.” Is all you can manage as you stand your ground. “No, what?” He growls, narrowing his eyes at you. “I won’t be apart of it.”
He furrows his eyebrows at you in angry confusion, awaiting your explanation. “Her or me.” Tom rolls his eyes, running an exasperated hand through his hair, smoothing it back into perfect style. “This isn’t a youorher thing, this is business.” His voice is a low intense bark, and his eyes are closed as he tries to reign in his anger. “Fine,” you concede, “business or me.” Tom opens his eyes, his features falling in shock as he gapes at you. He blinks a few times, slightly shaking his head, his jaw tightening. “Don’t do this. Don’t go there.” He warns, taking a step closer. Instinctively, you step back and you watch as the panic washes over his face.
“Please,” his voice breaks slightly, his stern demeanor having taken a complete 180, looking more vulnerable than he ever has before. You so desperately want to give into him, dropping the whole damned thing, and following him back to the party; but deep down you knew - you knew this was now or later. Eventually, the two of you were going to reach this impasse and you needed to know which was more important to him. Only slightly comforted that this moment was happening now, rather than a few years in, you remained firm in your position.
“Business or me.” You repeated flatly, your eyes searched his for any clue as to what he was thinking; and amongst the panic, fear, betrayal, and vulnerability, you saw a cool resolve. Something you hadn’t noticed before, but knew deep down had always been there. He didn’t want this to happen, he didn’t think it ever would, but he knew, as well as you did, that his mind was already made up. Tom had come to this decision long before he’d even met you, no doubt having it instilled from a young age by his domineering-tycoon farther. There was no room for love in his life, no room for error or compromise, or any of the other complications that came with a real relationship. And you’d never be able to accept that, you’d always need and want more from him. More than he could give.
As you came to this realization, you’d wished for nothing more than to go back and not have said anything at all, but it was too late. Your relationship would be forever changed, tainted by this true understanding of each other. He’d never looked more transparent, yet you could still see the inner and physical struggle he was having; his fingers slightly twitching as he contemplated reaching out for you and his eyes begging you to stay.
“Okay,” your voice was a breathy whisper, “I’ll make it easy for you.” Without giving yourself enough time to back out of the situation, or jump into Tom’s awaiting arms, you shove past him and practically run out of the building. Much to your dismay, you feel the all-too familiar sting of tears prick in your eyes, threatening to fall as you reach the valet outside.
“Ma'am?” He acknowledges, eyeing you with concern. “A driver, please.” You manage, your words choking past the lump in your throat. The crushing weight on your chest, was one of the most painful things you’d ever experienced. It was if your heart had been smashed into a million pieces, rather than breaking straight down the middle; it would never recover from this, or be pieced neatly back together, it was obliterated by the incident that had just occurred. The warm wetness of tears stained your cool cheeks, as they slid down them before falling off your jaw in slow droplets. Your vision blurred as they pooled in your eyes, not being able to blink them away fast enough, and if not for the chauffeur coming out to guide you to the limo, you wouldn’t have even recognized your driver.
“Home, I presume Miss?” He suggests timidly, offering you a gentle hand to help you into the car. You nodded silently, and gave him a small polite smile as you took his proffered handkerchief. With the door shut, you were given the privacy to cry freely, allowing the once quiet sniffs to be overcome by sobbing gasps for air. Looking out the tinted window, you watched as the building disappeared behind you, it and your relationship with Tom fading into the black nothingness of the night.
Everything around you was a cruel reminder of him; his favorite whiskey accompanied with the glasses that you’d drank from earlier, your lipstick still staining the rim of one. The leather seats you sat on were embroidered in gold with his initials designed on them. All of the special moments the two of you had shared in the back of this limo, came flooding in as your eyes scanned your surroundings. The crushing reality of what you just left behind sets in, and the hole expanding in the pit of your stomach leads you to believe that you’ve made a grave mistake. Possibly the biggest one of your life.
watching all these ig stans who’re getting aggy and INVASIVE on Tom’s new girl have big crackhead energy - news flash life isn’t a self-insert and if it was, you’d be the fans that fuck up the relationship
