#tom holland kink

[shawnxstyles]

the list

DATE: JUNE 15, 2023

summary: tom offers for you and your writing partner to work at the empty frat house when you have no other options. even though you hate tom with a burning passion, you can’t fail this class. when all is going fine, your partner has to leave abruptly for an emergency, leaving you with no way home (wink). thinking you’re all alone, you decide to snoop through tom’s belongings to try to find his rumored list.

request: yessss

song: Hot in Herre- nelly

words: 9.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, fingering, cock-thumping, nipple play, choking, deepthroating], m- receiving [blowjob], [small] daddy kink, degrading kink, rough/protected sex [not clearly consensual, but implied], mention of reader going under/slight subspace), pet names (princess), a lot of language, and a lot of dialogue.

note: I’M BACK and i’m with this big baby right here. i hope you guys enjoy this because it took me a few days to write. i’m glad to finally have some time to write again!

frat!tom x college!reader

–

“I’m really glad we got to be partners on this,” You smile as you hug your textbook and notebook to your chest.

“Yeah, me too. I think we’ll do great,” Brandon replies, and then the conversation basically stops there. It was dry and kind of awkward, but he was pretty nice, so it’s alright with you.

Your Creative Writing class was assigned a project that consisted of writing a short story with another person. Your teacher picked the partners and you got Brandon, which you were thankful for because he is original and creative, also known as not being a plagiarizer. But you weren’t sure how well your guys’ genres mixed.

You wrote a lot of old realistic romance stories, whether it was for free-writing in class or on your own time. Brandon apparently wrote a lot of futuristic science fiction and read a lot of comic books. You weren’t against the idea that he was a nerd or a geek, but you just hoped it didn’t overwhelm your writing process. But again, he was nice, which you didn’t get from most guys.

The campus is bussing like usual. All different kinds of people roam the concrete ground waiting for their classes to start or trying to leave without dropping all their things or wandering because they don’t know what else to do. It’s a balance that you’ve been accustomed to for the past year. Yeah, you took a gap year at 18 and are now a 20 year-old sophomore in college, but that doesn’t mean you have your shit figured out. No one does, and that kind of comforts you.

With these random thoughts, you and Brandon walk through the crowded campus until you reach the library.

“What the hell,” You squint your eyes at the paper sign that is taped to the glass door. You suggested the library as your work spot because Starbucks may be a little loud and you needed a lot of silence while writing. You’re also very picky with your own stories, so you can’t even imagine how it’s going to be when you combine ideas. Maybe you should just be less conceited…

As you read the surprisingly fine print, you find out that the room is having an inspection check.

“The librarian told people not to eat in there,” Brandon shakes his head in disappointment and you sigh in subtle annoyance.

“Well what are–”

“Oh, shit, it’s closed?” A voice appears from behind you and you nearly turn around and swing at the body. Only because you know whose body it belongs to.

A body with perfect fucking arms and a stupidly good-looking face–

Stop it.

“No, it’s just locked and has a sign that says it’s closed,” You roll your eyes as you spin around, facing Tom in all his stupid glory. A slight smirk creeps up his face as his eyes look down at you. You watch as he chews his gum, and you hate that it’s kind of hot.

Stop. It.

“What’s with the attitude? I just asked a question–”

“Well, it was a stupid question,” You snarl, biting on your lip in irritation. Even looking at him gets you all riled up because you know how he is.

You’re not sure exactly when you started hating Tom, but you know exactly why. Hate might be a strong word, but it goes well with the feeling you experience every time his name is mentioned or you see his smug face. You hate the way he talks about girls. You hate the way he treats girls, like they’re on some type of list and he’s just checking them off. Every time he even looks at a woman he finds mildly attractive, she’s instantly on said-list. He probably has a handwritten copy somewhere. You wouldn’t be surprised because you’ve heard that rumor before.

You heard a lot about him before you actually knew him. You heard through the grapevine that he lost his virginity to a girl in college when he was only 15, and now he’s a senior in college. And that he fucked three different girls in the same day during his senior year of high school. And a new one that you’ve heard is that he has sex every single day with a new person because he can’t live without it. You’re not sure if all of these are true or correct, but after you got to know him just a little, you know that it can’t be too far from the truth.

Tom was in your Film Analysis class last year. You purposely sat next to him because you thought he was cute, and you weren’t wrong, but you paid for it at the end of the year. He would constantly peek at your papers, and at first, you thought it was a sign of flirting. But he was just too involved with his phone during the films that he never knew what was going on once the assignments came. Your professor didn’t let you guys change seats because it was easier to take attendance with a seating chart, and he had “hundreds of students every day” blah blah blah. Why did your teacher have to be so old he was on the brink of death?

Throughout the entire year, you would overhear Tom talk about girls and what he was doing with them. It disgusted you that someone could be so objective and still get the girl (or girls), but you tried not to get involved with it. Then one day, like a random switch, Tom tried to hit on you. He tries to deny it, saying “Why would I do that?” and “You’re not my type” and shit like that, but Tom is only in it for the sex. He doesn’t care too much about appearances, so that’s how you know he was full of shit.

To this day, you swear you’re still on his list, whether it’s a physical or mental one. Tom flirts with you like he can, and yeah, sometimes that fucks with your head, but you remain composure. Because of your curiosity, you want to find out, one, if he actually has a list and two, if you’re on it. But your hate for him overpowers your curious wonders. If you did find this “list,” you wouldn’t stop making fun of him for it. And, he wouldn’t be able to survive if you were actually on it.

“Can we work at your place, Y/N?” Brandon asks, completely ignoring Tom.

“Can’t,” You reply, “my roommate asked for the evening, so she can…have her boyfriend over.”

“Oh,” he stares at the ground awkwardly and scratches his neck.

“Oh, you mean have sex?” Tom inserts himself into the conversation. You glare at him with searing lasers in your eyes. “What? You can’t say the word sex? Does it turn you on too much or something?”

“Tom!” You whack him in the arm with your heavy textbook and he simply laughs. It was whole and deep, and it made you feel all warm, but so did your hatred for him, so what’s the difference? “What is wrong with you? Do you have any filter?”

“I’m going to say…no,” he winks and crosses his arms like he is the coolest person to walk this earth. His smugness makes your fists clench and your blood overheat with fiery.

“Okay, before this gets into an argument, where are we going to work?” Brandon chips in with his hand on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to think rationally.

“You can work at my place,” Tom licks his pink lips and infamously smirks again. Your body is so hot that it melted your brain into a mush of incomprehension, so you can’t even respond to his idiocracy before Brandon very unsurely says why not.

Fuck.

–

“Welcome to The House,” Tom introduces dramatically while flinging the door open for you both. You swear that was the most gentleman-like thing he’s ever done.

“At least come up with an original name,” You roll your eyes again like your body has been programmed to every time Tom opens his mouth.

“So much attitude for such a tiny person,” he taunts, shutting the door behind him. Brandon walks quickly into the dining room with his backpack, leaving himself out of the very heart-felt conversation between you and Tom. Your jaw ticks a tad at his words. “I love when you roll your eyes.”

Your face scrunches in disgust, but can’t help it when your curiosity slips from your mouth, “Why?”

“Because then I know I’ve done my job,” A hint of a smirk rises on his lips while your eye twitches at his arrogance.

“And what is your job? To annoy the shit out of me? ‘Cause if it is, congratulations! You get promoted every time you talk to me,” No matter how badly you want to, you resist the urge to roll your eyes just because you know how much it would please him. Even with your irate words, that all-too familiar smirk lingers like he’s proud.

He likes when you fight back because no one ever does. It’s easy for him. Too easy sometimes. Yeah, he likes when he can sleep with a girl without having to try too hard, but once he met you, he realized he liked a bit of a fight. Tom craved the passion and bubbling tension that strangled the air between you both. It was thrilling and enthralling, and he knew with enough poking and prodding, you would snap. That was his job; to make you snap.

“Close, but no cigar.”

“What are you, like, a hundred?”

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me, princess.” There’s that name. That stupid fucking name. You know that he throws that title around like candy to women. You know that the sweet undertone of the tag is what it does for them and what gets them in his bed at the end of the night. It angered you that he thought you were so easy, so gullible. But no, you weren’t going to let him smooth-talk you all the way to his bedroom. Even if it was just upstairs…

“Actually, I’m not anymore,” You finished the conversation and walked away. After you stopped facing him, your eyes immediately went to the back of your head in a dramatic roll. As you enter the dining room, you are suddenly aware of the heat radiating off your skin. You lift a hand up to your beaming cheeks, which turn out to be flaming with the fury bubbling in your blood.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Brandon asks, being the nice guy he is. You swallowed and inhaled.

“Yeah. Let’s get started.”

–

Not even ten minutes later, Tom comes bustling into the room. He says he was just checking up on you guys, but he was just trying to annoy you. After half an hour, he comes back again, saying something about the last football game and if you two have watched it. You inhale a few times, squeezing your pencil in your hand. He walks into the kitchen ajar and grabs something from the fridge.

“Tom, can you leave us alone? We have to get this done by Friday.”

“But it’s my house. I should be able to go wherever I want in my own house.”

“You literally invited us here, so we could work in peace!” You didn’t mean to shout, but Tom brought out the worst in you.

“I never said anything about peace–”

“Look, Tom, just please leave us alone, yeah?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping maybe he would hear you. To your surprise, he licks his lips and re-enters the dining room, standing near your chair at the end of the table.

“All you had to do was say please, princess,” he winks and struts away, and somewhere inside of you is annoyed that he got the last word. But a big part of you was…affected. Badly. You never thought in a million years the name princess coming from his mouth would hit you, but for some odd reason, it did. Maybe it was because of his impromptu alliteration. Or the wink–no, it couldn’t have been the wink. Maybe it was the octave of his voice? You noticed how it got a tad deeper when he talked to you compared to how he did earlier. Were you looking too far into it?

Fuck, now he’s got you in your head.

Was this his job all along?

“How does that idea sound?” Brandon’s voice pulled you from your overwhelming thoughts, but not fast enough.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch what you said,” You apologize with a head shake. He repeats, and you write it down. This goes on for about an hour or so; you two throwing ideas back and forth.

You tried to find middle ground. You assumed you would be writing some sci-fi romance, and you were correct. Although you wanted to be there in the moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about Tom, and just the thought infuriated you. If you were present, you wouldn’t have complied and agreed to some of Brandon’s suggestions without more of a fight. The more ideas he spouted out, the weirder they got.

“Robots…God, I love writing about robots. Robots falling in love?” he pauses for a moment. “while trying to take over the world! You have to write that one down.”

You wrote it down, but your mind was moving differently than your body. As he suggested more topics, you zoned out completely. He was clearly very into the process and you…couldn’t have been farther from it. Like an echo, Tom lingered in your mind.

Where was he? What was he doing? Was he having sex right now? Why wasn’t he bothering you anymore?

You might have told him please, but Tom is just as stubborn as they come. You can’t say much though because you’re just as stubborn yourself. Maybe that’s why you two always bicker. You wondered if he fought with anyone else like how he battled you. Was he trying to make you mad just for the fun of it, or did he want something more?

Was there really a list? You can’t be the only person who’s considered that, right?

“Oh no.” The two words out of Brandon’s mouth brought you back because they were different from one of his absurd ideas. His eyes are staring at his phone screen once you start focusing in on him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“It’s…a family emergency. Shit, Y/N, I have to go up North. Like right now. Do you think we can pick this up in a few days?” He wavers out nervously and clearly full of panic.

“Y-yeah, of course!” You blink rapidly at the sudden change and nod to every word without really thinking.

“Are you sure?” He questions, but he’s already standing up from the table with his backpack tight around his shoulders and his keys in his hand.

“Yes, now go!” You flee him from the house, so he can get a head-start on his drive. As his car zooms down the street, your eyes wander to the empty driveway of the house. And then it gets you wondering again.

How are you going to get to your dorm?

“Fuck,” You grumble in the evening air, the sun barely beginning to set.

You had no money on you, and of course your card wasn’t linked to your phone, so you couldn’t buy an Uber, Lyft, or anything. You creep your way back into the frat house with slugged shoulders. You drop yourself onto the small couch as silence roams around. You never in your life thought that a frat house, or any house with just guys, would be this quiet. It makes sense that they’re all out though because they’re all social butterflies trying to get laid at the latest party. Woo hoo. Sense the sarcasm?

Feeling sorry for yourself, you wander around the house. You pad the entire downstairs area before making your way up the staircase. The second you touch the top step, your curiosity starts to plague you.

Where’s Tom’s room?

Yeah, okay, maybe it’s rude, but you don’t know what to do. And, come on, it’s Tom. He doesn’t care. More specifically, you don’t care. You don’t care that you’re about to snoop his room because no one is here and it’s not like he’s going to know, right?

There’s about five bedrooms upstairs and three of the doors were open. With delicacy, you barely pushed open the doors that weren’t closed completely as if they would creak loudly and someone would find you. You peeked in a few rooms, glancing at the designs to see if you saw something that related to Tom. None of the rooms seemed fitting.

And then, like a lightbulb, you remembered that Tom was the leader, or whatever bullshit they called him. You know the title only ever gave him an ego boost. In most cases, the “leader” gets the biggest bedroom, well, at least that’s what it was like at your friend’s sorority house. So, testing your theory, you trail down the carpeted hallway until you reach the last room, which you assumed was the largest. Turning the knob, your eyes stare at the master bedroom before you.

Called it.

The room had white walls, just like the others. But Tom had a lot more personality through his decorating than you would have thought and it was…surprisingly…well-kept. Maybe it wasn’t his room.

As you stepped a foot inside, you got the hint that his favorite color was blue; navy bed sheets, baby blue desk lamp, midnight-colored nightstand, cyan desk chair, and a few other accessories that solidified the idea. Your eyes stay glued to his bed for a moment. It was a little ruffled, like he had been sleeping in it, but you knew that bed had been through more than just sleeping. You never thought you’d feel bad for a mattress and some sheets.

Before you know it, you’re traveling towards his desk, which was white (everything was very randomly assorted). You nibble on your bottom lip, debating on if it’s worth digging through the four drawers to find the one thing that’s been nagging you for months.

The list.

Something deep inside of you is warning you that searching through his belongings is a bad idea, but there’s really nothing that stops you from pulling open the first compartment. Carefully, you shift around the assortment of pens and pencils until you admit there’s nothing but those in there. Moving on to the second drawer below the first, it’s extremely heavy. Then you realize the weight is from three hefty textbooks that look completely untouched.

Makes sense.

In the next top drawer, there’s nothing useful beside clean, unused binder paper. Losing all hopes of being right, you check the final drawer. Just in case.

You didn’t know what you were going to find inside of there. But whatever you may have thought, it wasn’t this.

In the deep compartment was a bunch of clothes. Women’s clothes. A few shirts, even some socks, but mainly bras and panties. You almost touched them to sift through it, but immediately retracted your hand before doing so, assuming these articles haven’t been cleaned. Your face is frozen in disgust at the pile as if your gaze is going to burn all of it away.

“I thought it would take a lot more work to get you into my bedroom,” A deep accent says, causing you to jot and slam the drawer closed.

From your crouch, you fall to the ground, heart racing erratically at the sight of Tom. Every nerve of your body was screaming in alert because you thought you were alone. Layers of goosebumps litter your skin when you visually take in his appearance; frizzy, damp hair, dark blue briefs, and a white towel draped over his buff shoulder. You swallow every bit of your saliva and leave your mouth completely dry as your eyes shamefully trail down his entire physique.

It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything.

“It’s a bit rude to stare, yeah?” he ticks, using the towel to dry his hair a bit more. His briefs were a little tight, and you wondered if they were the wrong size. Especially from your seat on the floor, you got the perfect view of his bulge outline. Your stomach burned and your eyes couldn’t stop blinking, trying to make the image go away, but it didn’t. It was real. At this point, he’s basically just giving you a free show. You mentally hated yourself for enjoying every second of it.

Stop it. Now, how are you going to get out of this?

“What were you looking for?” Tom asks almost innocently with a lick of his pink lips, trying to hold back a little smirk. Tom liked watching you snap, but he loved when you were flustered. He loves watching you get embarrassed because you feel hot all over. It’s a sight to see.

“Something to get you arrested,” You reply just as lightly, trying to hide your startledness before awkwardly pushing yourself on your feet. You try to keep your eyes away from him, but it’s difficult when his body is practically glistening in all its chiseled glory.

“Like what? A gun?” he jokes with a charming smile, slowly striding closer to you. Your breathing staggered a tad, but you kept your composure. Mostly.

He honestly looked like he had a gun in his briefs.

He laughs.

“I hope you know it’s not a gun, princess,” That lingering smirk is plastered on his arrogant face again and you wanted to punch it off of him. You couldn’t believe yourself for thinking out loud, especially because it was the last thing you wanted him to hear. You knew it was only an ego-booster. Your entire body flushes in overwhelming heat, wondering how you’re ever going to escape his looming presence.

“I-I obviously know that’s not a gun, Thomas,” You grind your molars at your stuttering because it makes you look and sound weak. Your trembling fingers turn into heated fists that have been ignited by only one thing; your arousal.

“Thomas? That’s a new one,” While you’re stuck in place, Tom doesn’t shy away from inching closer towards you. You don’t even realize it, but you’re holding your breath. “Are you okay, Y/N? You look a bit…flushed.”

Your heart unconsciously stammers against your chest, attempting to find an outlet. But there is none. Just like there is no escape from Tom as he stands in front of you unmoving. He’s so close, impossibly so, that your pounding heart is lurching towards his.

“It’s…hot in here,” You reply with an observation. Your voice was whispering as if your voice was afraid to speak any louder. With his proximity he could probably hear every heated pump of your blood.

“Like the song,” Tom smirks because he knows the real reason why you’re all hot and bothered. It’s something deeper than the temperature of his bedroom (because it really wasn’t that warm). “You know it, right?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” You almost roll your eyes before you stop yourself.

“Remind me, what’s the next lyric?”

A wave of heat crashes over your neck at his words, deep and low. Your stomach was burning with desire while your clit was throbbing in your underwear. You never would have thought that you’d be turned on by Tom, but you were doing only the impossible today.

Escaping this situation has left your mind. The only thing in your head now is staying in it.

“Take off all your clothes,” A breathless sound wavers out of your throat and you’re surprised you were even able to respond. Tom’s face is smug, almost proud at how flushed you are. His hand reaches up and ever-so delicately traces over your jawline. It was so gentle, but because he was finally touching you, you nearly moaned. You’ve never needed someone so badly before, and you never thought the person you’d be needing the most would be Tom.

You keep thinking that, but it’s just so hard to comprehend the idea of anything Tom.

“Is that something you want?” Tom’s husky voice fans over your heated skin as his fingers trail down your neck. Your chest raises up and down, and even if you’re trying to fight the feeling, you can’t. Your entire body wants him–no, damn-near craves him–to the point where you can’t even speak. Your subconsciousness hates you because you know how much he is just loving this. You hate to give him such satisfaction. “D’you want to strip? Right here in front of me? Or do you want me to do it for you? Because–”

“Yes,” You whisper with your eyes facing his chest, too afraid to stare into his lust-taken eyes.

“No,” he says, and for a moment when he took a breath, you thought he’d just rejected you. “I need to hear you say it all. I need to hear you tell me what you want. Tell me how bad you want it. I bet I can give it to you. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

His words practically made you a puddle at his feet, but they also made you want to slap him with those heavy textbooks until he learned some manners. Has he really been waiting for you? Or is that just another one of his lines? One that he uses on every single girl he gets in his bed?

Your mind might have cared at any other time, but your body overruled.

“I want…” Your mind was filled with so many possibilities, it was crowding your brain. Tom’s hand that was tracing your jawline then cupped your neck gently, causing you to sigh. You couldn’t resist swallowing all of your saliva again along with your pride. Because you were about to do something really stupid. If you were in a clear mindset, this would have never happened, you’re sure of it. But common sense isn’t here to guide you right now; only desire and lust. “I want you to fuck me, Tom. Hard. Harder than you’ve ever fucked anybody before.”

“Not quite what I was looking for, but I’ll get you there.”

Tom doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hand completely around your neck while crashing his lips to yours. They mush together so sloppily, you could barely call it a kiss. But, damn, did it feel good. Fire and passion laced your lips, and it was so intoxicating that you thought you would overdose on his euphoria. Your mind couldn’t even react properly while your body was going haywire. One of your hands snaked up to the nape of his neck while the other was squeezing his naked bicep tightly.

The proximity of your bodies was about to make you pass out from a heat stroke.

In the misty moment, he leads you towards the bed. If you’d known better, you would have pushed him and told him to fuck off because he would not get to sleep with you. But you didn’t know better. Matter of fact, the only thing you knew right now was Tom Tom Tom.

When your knees hit the edge of the mattress, your body goes tumbling backwards, causing your heart to race even more than it had been. You break the kiss in a gasp, but Tom doesn’t let you fall too far, holding you securely with one hand on your waist and the other on your neck.

“Already falling for me. It’s a bit soon, yeah?” Tom flirts condescendingly with a single chuckle, standing on the edge after dropping you onto the bed. Good, you thought. You didn’t want delicacy anymore. You wanted roughness. You couldn’t allow yourself to be sweet and intimate with Tom. Not if you didn’t want to fall in love with him or get attached.

Not that that was possible.

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying to, princess,” Even with the insult, his smirk lingers on like a tattoo. Although you despise that ridiculous nickname, your body didn’t care. When the word rolled off his tongue, your stomach erupted in needy desire and your cunt clenched around nothing. Tom isn’t new to a woman’s arousal. He knows when someone is turned on. It appears in their voice, their body obviously, but always in their eyes. And that lust was laced within you: in your voice, body, and eyes.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he taunts, hovering over your trembling body while your mind still tries to come to terms with what the fuck is happening.

“Of course not,” You grumble, but it comes out all quiet.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that. Maybe you’ll be surprised,” he infamously winks before traveling down your neck in harsh kisses. You try to withhold the whimpers he’s causing because it's impossible with the amount of pleasure you’re feeling.

Kneeling on both sides of you, Tom’s hands weave their way under your top, exploring your torso mindlessly. His palms are heavy and rough, the only type you wanted to feel when it came to him. You were wearing a simple bralette that you would feel his fingers trace over impatiently.

“Take it off,” You moaned when he nimbled a bit hard behind your ear. You felt him breathe a chuckle, and you just knew he was smirking. As per usual.

“That’s not very nice,” Tom tsks, halting all his movements and hovering over your flushed face. You were in a daze and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Your core was on fire waiting desperately to be taken care of by the so-called “sex god.”

“I didn’t want it to be,” Grumbling, you grind on your teeth again in impatience. “This was a mistake–”

In complete irritation, despite your body’s desires, you force yourself to sit up. However, Tom does not let that slide. Within seconds your arms are being pinned above your head and he is straddling your hips snuggly. There was no escaping him.

In this position, you could feel his bulge barely pressing against your lower tummy. The thickness nearly made you moan because you were so desperate for it, but God knows you would never get on your knees and beg for it. That’s the last thing you’ll ever do, especially for someone like Tom.

“Slow down there, princess. We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already trying to do the walk of shame.”

“Because you’re being an asshole!”

“I just wanted you to say please, princess,” Tom says innocently, but the most devilish smile rises upon his lips. It’s cruel how contradicting the two are, but you loved it. It spiraled you on even more. “Now, I don’t really care what you say.”

Following his word, Tom didn’t listen to a single word you said. Even though they only consisted of calling him a dickhead, asshole, and fucker, but that’s not the point. Before you know it, your clothes are stripped completely from you and you’re basically in the same predicament as Tom. He clips off your bralette and hastily rips it from your body, tossing it to some unknown place on his surprisingly well-kept floor.

Your breath hinges at the new vulnerability. Tom licks his lips lustfully at the sight of your near-naked body, but doesn’t say anything. No two-cented comment or some witted joke. Nope. Nothing. Something inside of you tingled.

His aggressive hands roughly massaged your breasts. He twisted and flicked your nipples with no care in the world, and that’s just how you liked it. You released a breathy moan when your nipples reached their peak, but he didn’t stop his miniature torture. Mindlessly, you bucked your hips up, right into him.

“Getting off just from some nipple play? God, you must be desperate,” Tom dryly chuckles.

“Shut up,” You groan when his mouth latches onto your raw nipple, intensifying the pain and pleasure that’s firing up in your body.

Tom’s wandering tongue finally makes it down to your underwear, which is soaked through with your arousal. You’re embarrassed to discover his reaction because you know it’s only going to make him even more air-headed than he already is. Your legs are tightly closed, but you widen them just a tad more. Tom isn’t having it.

“Open. I want to see what I do to you.”

You swear your heart skipped a beat because you nearly fucking died right there. Annoyingly obeying him, you open your legs more, giving him more access to your vulnerability. Also, giving him more ammunition to use to make fun of you. You knew for a fact that you would regret all of this in the future, but right now, for some fucking reason, you didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck,” Tom growled so low that you almost didn’t hear him. His face was now so close to you that you could practically feel his grumble vibrate through your thighs and straight to your cunt. “This is what I do to you? This whole time? And you’ve been running away…how selfish of you. To keep this from me.”

“I’m selfish? You are definitely the last person that’s–” The power of your words are cut short when he slides down your panties without hesitation. “–able to say that.”

“How about you stop saying stuff and let me get on with it?”

“Oh, please! Like I’m the one that’s stopping you.”

“Look who learned how to say please,” he smirks, hands prying open your thighs even wider than before. You inhale sharply as your cunt opens completely for him, dripping in your arousal. “Now, shut the fuck up unless you’re crying my name. Got it, princess?”

In the midst of an eyeroll, Tom places his mouth onto your clit. Places might be the wrong word. He latched his mouth hungrily onto you, like he would starve if he didn’t have you right now. Your eyes squeeze shut in shock, trying to decipher the incredible feeling of his mouth on you. Slurping and licking, Tom devours you whole and you can’t stop your body from squirming all over the place from the overwhelming euphoria.

To make you even more insane and to make you lose a bit more of your brain cells, Tom slyly slips one of his fingers in your cunt. It was undeniably soaking, so he slid it in easily. His pace is rigorous, thrusting in and out while sucking harshly on your clit.

Like Tom had requested, you were moaning. At first, it was just a few noises, but then, it turned into his name. The only word you seemed to know was Tom as you wailed and cried from his attack on your cunt. Even as your hips bucked into his face, he held you securely down with his forearm and continued to ram into you until you eventually came.

When you came, it was like you were hit by a freight train. Your orgasm slammed over you so powerfully that you saw stars for a moment. Oh, and you squirted, which you’ve never done before. Your wetness dripped down Tom’s face, and it was kind of funny to you, even if you felt a little bad about it (not really). But Tom had that tattooed-smirk on his face that let you know he was enjoying himself too much. Conceited as always.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter,” Tom wipes away your orgasm with his shower towel while your entire face goes hot again.

“Neither did I.”

“First time? What a pleasure.”

“Oh, shut up,” You roll your eyes, forgetting that he actually likes that. He smiles, but hides it with a smirk. Then Tom pulls down his tight briefs. Looking at his equipment, you nearly choked. It was thick and veiny, and the tip was an angry pink.

You wanted him inside of you, but if this was going to be the only time you do this, might as well get your fill.

“Actually,” You start, heart thumping rapidly. “Can I…”

You didn’t even really ask, you just slowly lowered yourself onto the floor. Tom didn’t stop you, just watched as you kneeled. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his cock, waiting for him to terminate your movements.

“I’d never say no to a blowjob, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, your warm fingertips rub over his leaking slit. He hisses at the sudden contact, but moans gutturally when your tongue touches him. You lick up his shaft, soaking the entire surface with your saliva. Tom’s hefty hands find themselves tangled in your hair, using it for balance.

Once you take him deeper into your mouth, the urge to pump himself down your throat gets tougher. You hollow out your cheeks, slurping up and down until your face is burning. With confidence, you push him lower down your throat until you gag around his length.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, his sounds echoing on his blue walls. His stomach contracts, abs tensing as he senses his high approaching.

A few tears twinkle in your eyes, and to kill Tom even more, you decide to stare up at him through your lashes. Your expression appears innocent, but he knows you’re anything but with the way you’re taking his cock amazingly.

When Tom can’t restrain himself anymore, his hips start bucking into your face. He feels you moan against him even if he caught you off guard, sending a wave of vibration through his whole body euphorically. His grip on your hair tightens while the tears that were brimming your eyes start to fall down like a waterfall.

The picture of you crying while his cock was shoved down your throat was enough to get him off through the rest of college. Maybe even the rest of his 20s. You wanted it rough, and you took him like a champ.

With your fingernails digging into his thighs, Tom was sure to come soon. And in the next few moments, he did. He was so blindsided that he didn’t warn you, didn’t tell you to get off of him so you didn’t choke on his cum. But then, you swallowed him without any hesitation.

Tom was nearly hard again because of it.

His remaining orgasm leaked from the corners of your lips, which you wiped away with the towel on the bed. Tom was trying to not appear dumbstruck while you were trying to rid the tears from your face, even though you were almost positive that Tom got off on them.

You had done a lot of blowjobs and deepthroating throughout your college years because again, men aren’t too nice or generous. You just so happen to be both.

As you stand up from the ground, Tom doesn’t wait to push you onto the mattress again.

“That was…” he starts before groaning quietly. Was he reliving it? “I need to be deep inside of your cunt.”

You blinked at the suddenness of his words. He couldn’t give you a single compliment? At this point, you weren’t going to waste anymore time fighting about it. Looking at his cock, he was basically hard again. That seemed like a compliment in itself. His angry tip and thick veins looked like if he knew how to use his dick, it could potentially destroy you. Isn’t that what you wanted, though?

Hell yes.

“Get on with it then,” You pressed, trying to widen your legs a bit more. After your first orgasm and Tom’s, you’re not as shaky as you’d been in the beginning. You got some of your wits back.

“Impatient much? Didn’t the palace ever teach you manners?” Tom jokes with a knowing smirk before hovering over you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes irritatingly at his extra comment. His cock thumped over your clit a few times, causing you to gasp at the weighted feeling. You didn’t even know he had put a condom on, but the texture of his cock felt like latex, so you assumed.

Even though you told him to get on with it, he doesn’t. Tom’s lips kiss and bite your neck while he continuously slaps your clit with his heavy cock. Whimpers elicited from your mouth at the friction; it wasn’t a lot, but you were still sensitive from your last orgasm. Every time his dick hit the hood of your clit, shots of electricity fired inside of you.

“T-Tom!” You shouted annoyed, attempting to get his attention. But of course, your voice came out as a wavering moan and you saw his ego fly into the sky like a rocket. You can never win, can you? “Can you just fuck me already? What’s with all the foreplay?”

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” Tom stops all of his movements and grasps your throat in his hand. You glare into his blackened-eyes with an angered lust that he’s never seen before. But he likes it. He really likes it. “I’ll fuck you. Yeah, and I’ll keep fucking you until I’m done.”

His last words come out as a growl, one that was so primal and aggressive, you couldn’t stop the arousal that leaked from you. Finally, Tom pushes himself inside of you with no mercy.

Tom’s fingers are still wrapped around your throat, his pressure on and off so you get a millisecond to breathe. His cock slams into you at a meticulous and quick pace. Even with the condom on, you can feel every inch of his length sliding through you like it was raw.

You couldn’t even imagine how good it would feel if it was raw.

With no warning, Tom begins to flick his hips up into you. A broken croak elicits from your trapped throat while your cunt squeezes his cock harshly.

“Fuckin’ love this, aren’t you? Love how I fuck you? Love how I talk to you like you’re nothing?” His voice is guttural and low, laced with lust and degradation. “You’re just a hole f’me. A hole so fucking tight I can barely get my big cock through.”

You hate how egotistical he is, but your core is still on fire with every one of his words. He releases pressure on your throat for a bit longer, and you cry out in moans. His now free hand gropes your breast, slapping and twisting the nipple without care. Your back arched so aggressively, you thought you might cramp up.

Tom rammed into you like there was no tomorrow. His balls slammed against you while his light pubic hair tickled your clit and gave you just a bit more stimulation. Everything was making you float. Your body was just taking everything he was giving you and you were loving it. All the other times you’ve had sex they were gentle and sweet, but now, you’ve realized that it was just boring.

Tom somehow manages to curve his cock inside of you in such a way that it hits you in the perfect spot. A scream of his name flies out of your mouth before you clench snuggly around his shaft again. His name is the only thing your lips know.

“Daddy! Fuck,” You gasp at your own words, the title just slipping out. Your hand covers your mouth in a haste, shutting yourself up before you say anything else. Your eyes screw shut in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t hear you. But it was hard not to when you fucking screamed it. The neighbors probably heard you.

When you got too deep into it, you tended to say things like that. However, you’re usually able to compose yourself before you let it slip. But the way Tom is absolutely destroying you gives you no time to think, no time to do anything but feel.

“Of course, you’re fucking filthy. If I knew you were such a slut, I would’ve made you beg for my cock,” Tom growls in your neck, pounding into you with no remorse. Your mind is in a haze and your body is still on fire from embarrassment and passion. You tried your hardest to hold in your moans after satisfying him with that title, but Tom won’t let you.

He rips your hand away from your mouth, and for leverage, you instantly grip onto his shoulders. With each hostile thrust, your nails dig deeper into his skin, creating red curves all over him. Somewhere inside of you felt a sense of pride because you know that there will be marks later on. Is this what Tom feels like all the time?

Your cunt clutches his dick again, but this time your orgasm is near. Your hand travels down in between you two to rub your clit, but Tom beats you to it. His rough fingertips violently circle the little nub, sending your eyes rolling backwards. When you feel his pace slowing just a tad, you assume that he’s just as close.

“Daddy,” You mewl, scratching his arm as your hips thrust up towards his. Yeah, you were pretty deep.

But so was he.

“Know you’re close, baby. Feel you squeezin’ m’cock,” Tom grumbles gravely in your ear, and his voice sends a tingle down your arched spine. Although it was rough and raggedy, it was the softest he’s been to you all night. “Come, right fucking now, princess.”

Yeah, you might despise him outside of the bedroom, and maybe a little bit in it, but who are you to disobey such a thing?

Your entire body tenses and your heart stops. You don’t even feel yourself breathing as your orgasm washes over you like a never-ending tsunami. Your brain is overwhelmingly fuzzy, your breasts are sore, and your cunt is aching from all it. But you loved every bit of it. It was something you didn’t know you wanted, but when you got it, it changed your views and feelings on everything.

Sliding in and out of you slickly, Tom comes soon after you with a string of profanities falling from his pretty lips. Even if he was conceited, he was a striking man. His body was hand-crafted by God in addition to going to the gym every day. When his muscles contracted over you, you couldn’t stop fawning over him. And his face was remarkable, it was unfair how someone could be given so many good social-standard genes. You wished you could say it was all a rumor. But it was hard to insult his looks when everything he gloated about was true. It was just annoying that he was aware of it.

Funny, right?

“Y/N,” Tom repeated your name over you, hoping you would wake up in the present moment. You were clearly in your head and Tom was a little concerned to say the least. Maybe he sleeps with a bunch of different women and maybe he’s arrogant, but that doesn’t mean he’s heartless.

Blinking several times, you snap out of whatever mindless daze you’ve been in. He’d already thrown away the condom and put on some boxers, not briefs. He gently wiped any excess orgasm away with his towel, your body subtly squirming from the stimulation. When Tom finally sees you coming to your senses, he slowly leans away from you, assuming you want space.

“Wait,” You find yourself saying without knowing what you want him to wait for. When his body rose from yours, you felt cold. It was so uncomforting, knowing that you’ve been so warm this entire time. Tom stares down at your naked body and watches goosebumps fan your skin. Your nipples pebble and stomach contracts. You feel so vulnerable.

“What?” Tom asks a little breathily, one arm holding himself up for balance. He couldn’t really say anything else. For the first time in a while, he’s completely starstruck by you. Your bare figure with your lion-like frizz of hair on his bed, tangled in his blue sheets is a sight he’ll never unsee. He honestly thinks he needs a moment to collect himself before staring at your beauty again.

Have you always been this beautiful?

“It’s…cold.”

“Now, it’s cold? I’m not the weatherman, princess,” Tom smiles like a child with a slight tilt. Your eyes roll like usual, but a smile is tugging at your lips this time. “Maybe you should put some clothes on.”

“Maybe you should shut up,” You retaliate, pushing yourself up. You’re face to face with Tom, merely inches away from each other.

“I love when you fight me,” he compliments, moving his head in little shakes like he adores you. Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

“Why? Because I put you in your place?”

“Something like that,” Tom sits next to you on the bed while you wrap yourself in his sheets. You really didn’t feel like wandering around the entire room completely naked with his eyes watching you. “Also, what were you looking for earlier? I know it wasn’t a gun.”

That familiar wave of heat flushes your skin and your mouth gets all dry. Are you sweating?

“Pfft, I don’t even remember. Must have slipped my mind,” Out of all the things you could have said, you decided to act stupid. Good going.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. I’ve probably heard worse,” Your wide eyes meet his, full of embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m assuming it’s some rumor thing you heard, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Tell me.” You’ve already had sex with him, and that’s the lowest you could go. So, it can’t be worse than that.

“I was looking for the list.”

“Not even a list but the list? Must be some pretty special list,” he smirks with an arrogant lick of his lips. One of your hands rubs your arm for comfort while you explain the entirety of what you’ve heard. It took a few minutes, but Tom was listening to every word. He nodded along with a sly smirk on his lips.

“So, it’s a list of all the people I want to sleep with. Is this list in order?” Out of all the questions he could have asked, that’s what he said? Maybe he is completely conceited.

“I guess so. I assumed you could rearrange it if you’d like.”

“Are the women rated?”

“What? That’s disgusting!” Physically writing down how well someone was at sex was pathetic to you. But the curious cat in your mind was wondering one thing:

What would Tom rate you?

“Well, if I had a list, you’d probably be near the top.”

There is no fucking way you said that out loud.

“You did, though,” Tom laughs while your fists clench his sheets embarrassingly. You fall backwards onto the mattress, covering your face with the bedding.

Why are you still in his room? Why have you not felt the urge to flee yet?

Your skin was burning from embarrassment and your heart was beating sporadically, but your breathing was steady and your mind was decently clear. So, why were you still lying in Tom Holland’s bed naked without a single thought of leaving? Did you…like it?

Or maybe because you have no way home and what’s the rush?

“Hey,” Tom says while you’re still beneath the covers. “Are you still cold?”

“Yes,” You mumble quietly.

“Do you…want to take a bath? Or a shower if that’s weird–” Your head slowly peeks out from the navy blue, finding Tom’s wandering eyes. His large hand was scratching the back of his curly head. A single tingle shot through your body, making you a degree warmer. It was the first time you’ve seen him even a little bit unsure of himself, and that made you smile. Just a tad because it let you know that maybe you’ve made him snap out of whatever bubble he lives in. Even just for a moment.

Discarding the sheet, you sit up on your knees at the edge of the bed. Like before, you’re face to face with Tom, and you can see the struggle in his eyes to not look down at your bare breasts. It nearly makes you break out into a fit of laughter, but you carry on.

“I’ll go with the bath,” You whisper seductively and don’t hide the way you stare down at his pink lips. You couldn’t help it. They just look so kissable.

What is wrong with you!

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” Tom coughs awkwardly. He’s never been like this before. He’s good with the flirting, seducing, foreplay, sex, and even the aftermath of leaving right after. But the second it even gets remotely romantic or intimate, he shuts it down quickly before anything else can happen. Though right now, he’s the one who made it sweet and offered you a bath. A bath is cute and domestic, which is so unlike Tom. He would have never offered something like that before, especially with no one home. He should’ve just kicked you out.

What’s different?

“Oh,” You look at the floor in pretend disappointment. Just to note, you’re still completely naked, standing in front of his bathroom door. You’re so glad he has his own bathroom. “You don’t want to join me?”

Tom blinks, wondering if you’re being serious. He never thought you out of all people would want to have sex in the bathtub, let alone with him. He swallows, trying to keep his cool.

“Yeah, obviously, I was just letting you get a headstart,” Tom rapidly removes his boxers while you strut into the bathroom, shaking your ass in your trail. Streaks of curses leave his mouth while he slams the door closed, not forgetting to lock it.

For the record, the rumor was true; Tom did have a list. It was in a spot he knew no one would check; his textbooks in his desk drawer. A single sheet of paper that has a list of the girls he’s been with and the ones he wants to be with. It’s crazy how such a rumor was developed when no one knew about the list except for himself.

Yes, it was listed in order and he reorganized it whenever he needed to. That’s what erasers are for. He writes it in pencil because nothing is set in stone. It’s honestly hard for him to remember who’s in his top five right now. Yeah, Tom sounds like a complete douchebag, but he didn’t really care.

Tom said that your name would be “near the top” if he had a list. What a liar he is.

Ever since he met you, you’ve been the first on his list. You’re the only name that hasn’t been erased since he wrote it his junior year. Also, you’re the only person who has a little note on the side of her name:

1. Y/N Y/L/N -The one

Tom had a feeling that he won’t have to write any names down, or even need the paper anymore. Even if he never had a list to begin with, he would have never needed one to remember you.

—

i hope you guys liked this i worked hard!! likes, comments, and reblogs are all appreciated <3

taglist: @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #enemies to lovers #tom holland daddy kink #frat tom holland

[mpreghotties2]

Tom Holland pregnant

#male vore #pregnant men #huge pregnant belly #pregnant man #mpreg kink #cw mpreg #mpreg belly #Tom holland pregnant #Tom holland uncharted

[littlemissomega]

Meeting the Coworkers Part 1

Warnings: smut, kinda threesome [steve doesnt really do anything] dom!steve x innocent!sub!reader x dom!peter parker, overstimulation, oral [f receiving], mention of oral m recieving, fingering, mention of virginity, degrading, squirting, overuse of the words 'whimpers' and 'chuckles' (yes that's a warning)

Summary: Steve has been clear about his polyamorous relationship with some of his coworkers since he started dating Y/N, but she never really wanted to meet any of them. Steve intrudices her to Peter first, and things get heated

Masterlist

"Are you sure you're ready for this, princess? Cause if not, we can always kick him out and-"

"Stevie," Y/N interrupts, "I-I'm ready! I want to…to try,"

"Okay, babygirl, let me call him in,"

Steve runs his hand up and down Y/N's soft thigh.

"Peter, you can come in now!" Steve calls.

Y/N's breath catches in her throat and she curls in closer to Steve when she sees him. 

Steve and Y/n have been dating for a year and she's never been happier. Steve made sure she knew off the nst that he has in a polyamorous relationships with a few people he works with, but she should not feel pressured at all the become apart of it. So it had just been the two of them for a year.

But Y/N got increasingly more curious about that part of Steve's life.

"You remember Peter, dont you, princess?" Steve asks gently.

Y/N nods. She remembers the day she and Steve were out getting coffee and Peter just "happened' to be there. He made her even more curious. And a few other emotions she didn't quite understand.

He made her blood light on fire, just like Stevie does, which confused her. She didn't want to cheat on Steve, she loves him! One night, she confessed the feelings she had to Steve, and he just chucked and kissed her nose. 

"Hi, darlin'! You look pretty today!" Peter smiles.

Y/N cheeks flush at the complement.

"T-thank you," she stutters.

"Awww she such a cutie, Steve! Can't even take a complement without blushing!"

"I know! She's my shy llittle baby," Steve chuckles.

Y/N blushes even harder and fiddles with the hem of her sundress. She's sitting on the bed between Steve's legs. She doesn't even hear Peter talking to her through her blushing. Peter sits down on the bed and gently grabs her chin, making her look up st him.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, babygirl,"

Y/N let's out an involuntary whimper, causing both men to chuckle.

"What do you say when you understand, princess?" Steve asks.

"Yes, sir," Y/N responds.

"Good girl," steve whispers in her ear.

"You've got her trained right up, don't you?" Peter chuckles, "you wanna lay back, pretty girl?"

Y/N looks back at Steve and he nods. She scoots forward on the bed so she can lay back, making sure to hold the hem of her dress so it doesn't ride up. Steve positions her head in his lap and she looks up at him with wide, doe eyes.

"Are you sure you want this, bunny?" Steve asks one last time 

"Uh huh!"

"Do you remember your safe word?"

"Red," Y/N nods.

"Good girl! You hear that, Peter?" Steve asks, looking up at his boyfriend, "she says red and you stop,"

"Sir yes sir," Peter chuckles.

"Daddy?" Y/N whispers.

"Yes, bunny?" Steve respinds.

"Is he gonna be gentle?"

"Even gentler than me" Steve chuckles.

"Can you h-hold my hand, Daddy?"

"Of course, pretty girl," Steve smiles, lacing his fingers with hers

Peter positions himself in front of Y/N's clamped shut thighs and grabs the hem of her dress; going to take it off.

"Wait," Yn interrupts, "C-can I keep it on? Just f-for now?"

"Of course, princess," Steve and Peter respond at the same time.

Y/N always been insecure about her body. She thinks she too short, and as Steve likes to call it, 'curvy'.

Peter flips the hem of her skirt up just so her white cotton panties show. 

"You gott open your pretty thighs if you want me to do anythjng," Peter chuckles, gently rubbing her thighs.

Y/N lets out another whimper and hides her face in Steve's lap.

"Can I kiss you?" Peter asks, wanting yn to feel more comfortable.

Yn looks up at steve as if she's asking permission.

"Whatever you're comfortable with, bunny," Steve smiles, stroking her hair.

"Yes please," yn whispers.

Peter moves up so he's straggling yn and lowers his lips down to hers. He smells like peppermint and kisses her gently and reassuringly. It takes her breath away and went he pulls away and moves down to her neck, she's gasping.

"A-arent you gonna…give Stevie a kiss?" Yn asks quietly.

"Awww silly baby!" Steve chuckles, "always thinking 'bout her Daddy!"

Steve grabs Peter's chin and kisses him passionately. Yn whimpers at the heated sight above her.

"Good boy," Y/N hears Steve mumble into Peter's lips.

Steve pulls away from the kjss.

"Now get to work," Steve chuckles.

Peter kisses down yns neck and her eyes flutter closes.

"You're so beautiful," Peter mumbles.

Warmth blooms through y/n. Steve calls her beautiful every day, but it's weird hearing it from someone else. Nice, but weird.

"Thank y-you,"

"Oh such polite little baby! Did you Daddy teach you that?" Peter asks.

"Uh huh!" Yn nods.

"Now, be a good girl and open those pretty thigh," peter croons.

Yn buries her face back in Steve's lap as she slowly spreads her thighs. Peter settles between them and smirks at the little wet patch.

"I've surprised Steve doesn't have you in little lacy panties!" Peter chuckles.

"Daddy loves my pa- oooh," yns moan interrupts her and peter gently strocks her clit through her panties.

"So sensitive! Look at me," peter voices.

But y/n keeps her face hidden. Steve reaches down and spanks Yns thigh. She gasps and looks up at him in shcok.

"You know better! You've gonna give me a reputation of not knowing how to keep my little baby slut in line! Listen to Peter or else!" Steve snaps 

"I'm sorry Daddy!" Y/n whimpers.

Y/n looks down at Peter and he keeps eye contact with her and he slowly tugs her panties down. She squirms under his intense gaze, but she doesn't look at. Yn doesnt want her Daddy to get mad again!

The cold air hits yns wet pussy and she gasps, attempting to close her legs, but Peter stops her.

"Fuck, what a pretty pussy!" Peter croons.

Y/n's face flushes even more.

Peter continues looking at her and he lowers his lips to her pussy and gives her clit a little kitten lick. Yn jolts and moans as Peter continues. Her toes curl and she clutches Steve's hand.

"Sweetest fucking pussy I've ever had," Peter mumbles into her, the vibrations jolting her core.

"Ngjjff Daddyyy," she moans.

"What, pumpkin? I'm not the one makes your pretty pussy feel good, Peter is!" Steve chuckles, leaning down to kiss her nose.

Yn states up at steve with wide eyes as Peter continued lightly lapping her clit. She squirms at the sensation. Warmth grows in yns core quickly.

"You know what she really likes?" Steve voices, turning his attention to Peter. He stops and looks up to listen, making yn whimper, "when you give her clit a little smack. I've made her cum before from just spanking her clit!"

"Oh really? What a naughty little slut!" Peter croons, smaking yns clit.

Yns back jolts off the bed and the tries moving away from peter to escape the sensation, but that just causes him to do it more.

"Sit still," Steve snaps.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, it's just-just nghfjfhf too much!" Yn blabbers.

"I've barely touched you!" Peter inserts.

He smacks her clit again before leaning down and plant a soft kiss. The kiss turns into sucking on it. Yn moans as she gets closer to her release. 

"D-daddy I'm gonna cum! Can I please cum?"

"I'm not the one you need to ask, doll,"

Yn looks down at peter, her face bright red.

"Peter please," she whimpers.

"Please what?" Peter asks mockinglg, switching to rubbing circles on her clit.

"Peter please please please gonna cum oh please please can I cum, sir?" Yn babbles.

"Good girl. Cum for me, baby,"

Yn throws her head back and grips the sheets and fire corses through her vveins. peter gently works her through her orgasum. She bites down on her lip to try and muffle some of her moans.

But once yn starts to relax again, peter goes straight back to work. He goes to slip two fingers in, but then realizes y/n's sopping hole is far too tight for that. He's able to slip the tip on one in, but barely. He moves his mouth from her clit as she squirms uncomfortably from the stretch and sensitivity from her last orgasam.

"Fuck she's tigher than a virgin!" Peter coments.

"That's cause she is one!" Steve chuckles.

Peter looks up in shock.

"You haven't popped her cherry yet?"

"Nope! I've tried loads of times, but Daddy's fat cock is just too big for your little baby pussy, isn't it?" Steve asks yn.

"No wonder you're wound so tight when you come over! Wands couldn't walk for a week after y'alls last date! You've been using up all your self restraint here!"

Yn feels a pang of guilt. Is she hurting her Daddy? Is he bitter than he hasn't been able to 'pop her cherry's? She starts feeling even more guilty when Steve leans down and softly kisses her.

"I love you., baby bear. And I've already told you, we're taking this at tihr pass. So stop thinking about it!" Steve whispers getnly.

"Damn she's dripping down my wrist and I can barely get one finger in!" Peter voices, finally easing his finger in.

"Relax your pretty pussy, baby," Steve orders gently, "it'll feel better if you do,".

Yn sniffles as peter works his finger in and out of her, digging her nails into Steve's hand.

"I can see what you mean, man," peter starts, sliding his finger in and out slowly, "she'd probably suffocate your dick off if you tried to put it in!"

"Oh yeah! My little baby is just so much smaller than me! I've never been able to get more than two fingers in her pretty pussy, even after making her cum till she's dumb and with lube!" Steve explains.

"I can see why!"

"I've tried putting my cock in before, but I just can't make even the tip fit, and she cries so hard I just can't,"

"Daddyyy," Y/N whimpers, her face flaming red, "staph it!"

"Stop what?" Steve asks mockinglg.

Yn struggles to form words with Peter's finger in her pussy, and his thumb starting to rub circles on her swollen clit.

"Stop talking a-about putting…..you in m-me," yn stutters embarrassedly.

"Aww bunny! You had my cock in your mouth just this morning and can't even say the word!"

"Daddy shhh!"

Y/n's thighs start quivering even more as another climax builds.

"Do I need to put my cock back in your mouth so maybe you remember to word?" Steve asks.

Yn jumps at the idea and crans her head back furture.

"Uh huh uh huh uh huh! Please Daddy, I'll be good! Wanna make you feel good Daddy!" Yn responds excitedly but yet still so innocently.

"Oh I was just messing with you, baby bunny! Right now is just about you and making your pretty pussy feel good.

Yns face drops and eter chuckles into her pusy, making her moan.

"B-but Daddy I-" yn starts.

"Maybr if you're good, I'll let you suck on Daddys cock later," steve smirks, pating her cheek.

"Damn, Rogers, you've got her giving you blow jobs as a reward?"

"She's a Daddy's girl," steve ssmirks. 

Peter startd sliding his finger in and out faster and yns pussy flutters around him more. Yn struggles to contain her sounds, and Peter and Steve can tell.

"Let me hear you, pretty girl," Peter orders.

"B-but-"

"Stop muffling your pretty moans or you won't be cumming for a month," Steve snaps.

Yns moans start bubbling over as the last of her pride finally melts awat. Her body ie on fire.

"Good girl," peter chuckles, "does that feel good?"

"Fuck fuck f-fuck feels s-jfkfjfhfj so good! Can I cum again, sir?" Yn blubbers himystrrically, her brain foggy with pleasure.

"What a dirty mouth! Cum for me, dirty girl," Peter responds.

"Look at him while you cum," Steve orders, moving yns head so she has to looking in Peter's eyes while she cums.

Yn moans and squirms and pants through her orgasm. Fire engulfs her belly and she squirts all over Peter's face. She has to request the urge to let her eyes flutter shut.

"Fuck shes a squirter?" Peter moans.

"Oh all the time! I'm surprised she didn't earlier! She must be dehydrated. Have you not been drinking enough water today, bug?" Steve asks.

Yn just whimpers, not able to form words after another intense climax. Peter keeps going at first, then he stops. Yn let's out a sigh of relief, knowing she'd be even more sensitive after that. Her eyes flutter shut and she relaxes against the mattress.

Then she feels the tip of something hard and warm against her puffy pussy lips and jumps. Peter slides is cock through her soaking, sensitive folds and yn lets out a strangled cry, looking up at Steve. He smirks at her.

"Daddy," she cries.

"What is it, bug?"

"Too mu-much! Too sensitive!"

Yns magic blocking bracket flows as it works to keep her powers from overtaking her. When she gets overwhelmed, it's hard for her to control her magic, which is why Steve had Bruce make her the bracelet.

"Take it like a good girl, bunny,"

Peter's rough jeans rub against her thighs and she lets a loud moan.

Yn feel so warm it's maddening, and she starts tugging on her dress.

"Off off off please, Daddy, want it off!" Yn cries, her voice muddles with pleasure.

"Okay, baby boo, one second," Steve smirks.

Steve pulls his girlfriend's dress off over her head and throws it off the bed. Yn feels Peter's cock get even harder as he looks up and down her body.

"Fuck, you really did get a good one, Rogers,"

"Damn right I did,"

Steve reaches down and runs Y/N's nipple through her bra.

"Can I take this off too, pumpkin?" Steve asks, tugging on her bra.

Yn can barely hear him with Peter grinding against her core, so she just nods. Steve quickly takes off her bra to reveal yns hard nipples.

"Oh bunny, you're gonna be the death of me," Steve moans, looking down at her fucking out face.

Steve pinches her nipples between his fingers and she whimpers, twitching from all the stimulation.

Yn orgasm builds so quickly it feels like a freight train about to hit.

"Fuck daddy fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fhck fuck," she babbles, "I can't cant cant too much ooh fhck,"

"Yes you can. Be a good girl and cum for Peter one more time,"

"Come on, pretty girl, I can feel you getting close. Cum all over my cock, honey," Peter moans.

Yn squirms everywhere, almost like she's trying to escape her orgasm, but she can't. It crashes into her and the whole world shatters.

Peter watches in awe as Yn cums, her face flushes red and sweat dripping down her body. Liquid squirts out onto Peter's abs, turning him on even more. He reaches up and runs the nipple Steve isn't. Her thigh quiver and her pussy flutters around him, drawing him closer to his orgasm.

"Where do you want me to cum?" He asks Steve, knowing yn is far too out of it to answer.

"On her stomach," Steve responds, pushing yns hair out of her face as she comes down from her orgasm.

Peter pulls his cock away from her dripping folds, causing a string of cum to string off. Her jerks off to the look of her fucked out face before letting it load out of her smooth stomach.

"Good boy," steve chuckles.

But Peter barely hears him, he's focused on check on yn.

Yn brain starts to clear as she comes up from her orgasm. Her eyes flutter open and she sees Peter and Steve looking down at her.

"Hey, pretty girl!" Peter smiles gently, "you did so good!"

"So good!" Steve repeats.

"Really?" Yn asks weakky.

"Really! You were so so perfect, baby! Daddy is so proud of you!" Steve smiles.

Yn flushes contently.

"Thank you, Daddy,"

"How are you feeling, angel?" Steve asks.

"Sleepy," Y/N mumbles contently.

"Go to sleep, honey," Steve tells her, "We'll get you cleaned up, pretty girl,"

Yn drifts in and out of consciousness while they clean her up.

Peter goes to clean up Y/N's stomach with a tissue, but Steve stops him. 

"Can't let me pretty boy's cum go to waste!" Steve smirks, leaning down and starting to lick the cum off her stomach.

Yn squirms a little in her sleep, but doesnt stop him.

Once they finish cleaning her up, Peter and Steve snuggle up in bed next to Y/N. She's out cold.

"You did so good, honey," Steve tells Peter quietly.

"T-thank you"

"Not so confident now, are you? Now, you can let all that dominance  go to your head, baby boy! Bucky will tear your ass up if you brat off to him again,"

"I know, sir, I wont," Peter nods.

Peter looks down at Y/N as she sleeps peacefully.

"She's a perfect match," peter comments, "I know the others are gonna love her so that won't be an issue. Do you think she'll agree?"

"Hopefully," Steve responds.

"So, who are you gonna introduce her to next?"

"Hmm maybe Wanda,"

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

#smut #steve rogers smut #peter parker smut #tom holland smut #innocent!reader #innocence kink #virgin!reader x steve rogers #virgin!reader #overstimulation #tw overstimulation #badly written #Meeting the Coworkers by LittleMissOmega #peter parker x reader #dom!peter parker #dom!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut

[fatlover-12]

Fatty josh hutcherson and tom holland pt2🤤

#obese men #hotfatboys #belly kink #fat admirer #fat art #fat gainers #fat male art #growing belly #stuffing #weight gain #tom holland #josh hutcherson

[jonnywaistcoat]

What would be your desert island discs?

Dead Flag Blues - Godspeed You! Black Emperor

Rasputin - Bony M

The Crow and the Cradle - Lady Maisery

Clap Hands - Tom Waits

Ecstasy of Gold - Ennio Morricone

War - Edwin Starr

Old Fashioned Morphine - Jolie Holland

Sunny Afternoon - The Kinks

#Tough to pick just eight #But I think that's a good spread #No idea about the book or luxury tho

[youandtom2]

Praise You Like I Should (CEO!Tom Holland) 18+

Summary: You were always a people-pleaser, desperate to do right by everybody no matter what they asked. Being an intern, your boss Jackson exploited your people-pleaser tendencies in a very unprofessional manner, and CEO Mr Holland wasn't happy about it... Themes: smut! little bit of fluff and angst, dom!tom and sub!reader, oral (m+f), major praise kink, sir kink, overstimulation, masturbation (alone) , slight jewelry kink w/c: 10k+

MASTERLIST

You look over the dimly lit hall before you, tables decorated to the nines with hand-folded serviettes, silver-ware suited for royalty, gleaming as they sit on a fresh white linen table cloth, surrounded by tall plum-coloured cushioned chairs. There’s about twelve tables dotted around the hall identical to one another, waiting to be filled by guests in about an hour or so. The room sparkles with the metallic colouring of birthday banners and balloons floating around the room, illuminated by the dancing, multicoloured disco lights. 

The surprise birthday party you were instructed to organise is for Mr Holland’s business partner, Taylor. They’re each other's yin and yang, mixing together like oil on water but somehow they make it work. The informal Taylor bases his relationship with his employees on friendship and a sense of mutual equality, where the formal Mr Holland prefers professionalism and respect on top of trust. Nevertheless, both are equally respected as bosses and businessmen in their own right. It doesn’t necessarily mean you all prefer one over the other, but if you had to make a choice as to who you would rather hang out with, the answer is an obvious one.

As an intern, it isn’t exactly part of your remit to organise and host birthday events, but your boss, Jackson, ordered you to do it. Jackson’s notable within the workforce for several reasons; he’s outgoing, social, ambitious, confident, and is unofficially Taylor’s kiss ass. He appointed himself (ahem, you) with the responsibility of organising Taylor’s surprise party, not because he thinks he’s capable, but because he’s looking for recognition. What people don’t know is that he’s actually a lazy guy who has gotten himself drunk with the taste of superiority, abusing you as his own personal slave for favours both big (entirely consequential and out of your depth) and small (worthless and petty). Unfortunate to be his first intern, you’ve realised how gluttonous he’s become with you at his disposal how and whenever he pleases. However, being placed at the bottom of the pecking order, you’re not at liberty to say no. 

Jackson’s not your favourite boss by any means, but by God he keeps you busy. It tooks weeks for you to organise the venue, the catering, the entertainment, the decorations, the invitations, most importantly the cake, and the little oddities that everyone forgets about like hand-written name tags and having straws at the bar. You’ve been working relentlessly and after weeks of stress, late and often sleepless nights, numerous phone calls and emails, cancellations and rebookings, tonight is the night that all of that can end. The curse of being a perfectionist and a people-pleaser can finally release its hold on you.

Just as you finish clarifying the itinerary with the hotel’s bar staff, you notice a dark figure walking through the entrance. Your eyes trail nervously from the black patent shoes to the white shirt peeking beneath the black suit of which belongs to Mr Holland. He has his tortoise shell glasses perched perfectly on his nose, reflecting the colours of the disco lights as he walks towards you, stoic and poised. A silent ‘fuck’ crosses your mind. 

Being the CEO eight floors above you, Mr Holland’s face isn’t one that you see as consistently as Jackson’s. He’s at least 6 tiers above you in the pecking order, one of two to take superiority over a long line of directors, specialists, managers, supervisors and assistants before you. So you can hardly blame yourself when you start to feel nerves gathering in your chest, despite how well-respected he is amongst the workforce. 

His eyes finally find yours and he clarifies your name. You can appreciate that he’s at least taken the time to learn your face. “You're Jackson’s intern, right?” 

Wow. He knows you more than you thought. “Yes sir. Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“No, thank you. I was just coming to take a look around. I’m normally part of organising the celebrations but this year I’ve been too busy.” He wordlessly waves a hand before weaving in and out the tables, reading each name tag as he passes by. You watch nervously as he inspects the room until finding himself in front of what you call The Shrine with folded arms, almost bursting at the seams. More simply, it’s a collage of photos of Taylor taken over the years pieced together in a mosaic standing on an easel, gathered and no less arranged by you, of course. Next to it stands an empty corkboard, waiting to be filled with pictures from tonight's celebration, provided by the pop-up photobooth beside it. 

“Whose idea was this?” There’s a warm smile on Mr Holland’s face.

“Mine, sir.”

“And the handcrafted name tags?”

“Also me, sir.”

“I love it. It’s very creative.” You exhale loudly, relieved. The people-pleaser inside you starts to buzz, fluttering wildly at Mr Holland’s praise. “Did you…” His eyes squint narrowly, honing in on you. “Did you organise all of this?” 

“Yes, I did. The venue and catering took some negotiating but once that was planned, the rest came with time.”

“Impressive.”

You’re about to thank him but you're interrupted by the obnoxious calling of your name in a voice that booms from the entrance of the hall. Jackson marches towards you and you stand a little straighter. He doesn’t notice Mr Holland standing in the corner of the room next to the shrine. Instead of Mr Holland announcing himself, which is what you expected him to do, he sinks his hands into his pockets and quietly observes from afar. 

“I need a rundown--” Please, that would be great. “--and for the love of God where is the present I was supposed to get Taylor?” Thanks for getting me a present for him, I’ll pay you back.

Your answer is succinct and to the point. “I’ve left it in your hotel room; it’s a dinner reservation at Keens Steakhouse in New York. As for tonight, the bar will be open for guests when they arrive at 6:30pm, Taylor will arrive between 7:00pm and 7:15pm for his surprise, the buffet will open at 7:30pm and cake will be served at 8:30pm. Last orders are at 11:30pm and the curfew is midnight. Everyone has checked in and has their hotel room key, although Kelsey couldn’t make it tonight, so her room is spare.”

Jackson gives a gruff nod, mumbling something intelligible under his breath. He cautiously looks to the bar, then narrows his eyes at you with a pointed finger wavering in your face. “I need tonight to be perfect so I need you to be sober. No alcohol. Got it?” In other words, I can’t be bothered making sure everything goes smoothly so I need you to stay sober while I get shit-faced. You nod, pursing your lips angrily as he walks away from you without a final word.

With Jackson no longer in sight, the tension finally deflates and your shoulders relax. You hate that every interaction with Jackson is a test of your skill and knowledge, caught in a vicious cycle of having to prove yourself worthy time and time again. 

As Mr Holland emerges from the corner of the room, it’s an observation he also confronts having finally witnessed Jackson’s true authoritarian nature. His eyes are fixated on the golden doors in a stare so firm it could burn holes through the metal, and just when he steps into the brighter lights of the bar, his overall demeanour changes. 

His jaw ticks when he finally faces you. “Jackson’s keeping you on your toes tonight it seems.” 

“He always does, sir.” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, recounting the numerous occasions his brutal demands have worked you to the bone.

“I don’t think I appreciate the way he talks to you.” 

“Oh I’m used to it by now.”

“So he talks to you like that all the time?” Shit. In truth, Jackson would never have spoken so harshly to you had he known anyone was in the room let alone Mr Holland, but that was his mistake. One you’re not sorry for. “Well, if he isn’t going to tell you what an amazing job you have done, I will. You should be proud of organising all of this by yourself, it’s not easy. Well done.” 

Your chest swells with pride as Mr Holland pats a gentle hand against your upper arm. Finally, your first taste of positive reinforcement. “Thank you, sir.” 

Mr Holland’s smirk quirks at the edges. His hands find themselves deep within his pockets once again as he coolly and oh-so-calmly exits through the doors. 

~~~~

You are insomnia personified. As relieved as you are that the night is going exactly to plan, with the nervous anticipation over, you just cannot wait to get to your bed knowing that the stress is over. You have hours of sleep to catch up on, a stone of weight to put back on and friends and family to respond to, and without a single alcoholic drink to lift your spirits, you’re finding it harder and harder to keep the exhaustion at bay. Beyond the exhaustion, however, there’s a sadness hidden deep within your conscience and while you glance over the decorations you hung up as the melodic singing of ‘happy birthday’ rings in the air, it spreads. It’s clear that people are oblivious to what makes you so downcast on a celebratory night as they pass nothing more than a glance your way, but in all honesty, you much prefer it to be that way. You wouldn’t want anyone to see the tear building in the corner of your eye. 

For now, you thrive on the compliments you’ve heard about the venue, the decorations, the drinks and the food, each and every one of them satisfying your perfectionist mindset. Okay, so what no-one knows you organised the party, and sure, you can oversee the fact that none of the compliments are directed to you in particular, because in the end, you’ve gained Mr Holland’s approval and that’s enough for you.

Well, it was enough until Taylor took to the stage for a speech.

“...and a special shout-out to Jackson for putting this all together for me. This is absolutely amazing, I couldn’t have asked for more.” 

Your heart sinks in your chest and your ears instinctively drown out the clapping and cheering of the crowd around you, eyes set in stone as they watch Jackson accept the dedication so graciously that it makes you sick to your stomach. It takes every ounce of energy you have left in you to suppress the wobble in your lip at the sight of Jackson soaking up the glory like a sponge. Jackson taking the credit for your hard work was something you should’ve expected from him. After all, he is lazy and will never be willing to admit it, definitely not in front of Taylor. Still, the chase for recognition was always going to be a losing battle for you; you’re an intern for fuck’s sake, you are merely just a name and a face for most, unfulfiling of the protagonistic arc the people here want in their stories. Jackson, the kiss ass, makes much more sense being the hero than an underdog intern. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, accepting defeat. 

You claim an empty seat at an empty table in a dark corner of the room, far from the crowd mingling on the dance floor and you remain there as the party continues into the night. The glass of tepid water looks pitiful in your hands, its lack of taste offering no respite from your sorrow. 

With fifteen minutes until last orders, you begin counting down to the moment you can retire to your bed which you know won’t arrive until after you’ve cleaned up the hall. You’re jealous of some of the guests who have already decided to leave the party.

The chair to your right suddenly scrapes across the floor and you’re slightly taken aback when Mr Holland sits close beside you and abruptly rests an elbow upon the table, blocking your view of the crowd and demanding your attention. A cedarwood scent silently announces itself and you inhale it deeply, finding sanctuary in its presence despite how startled you are by it. Your breath is simply taken from you when he shuffles himself closer. He isn’t wearing his usual attire; something a little less formal, but likely to be just as expensive. With that expensive taste comes his expensive appearance: clean, styled, decorated admirably and booming with authority. A warmth starts to take a hold of you. 

His movements are harsh and his body moves with brute intention, but behind those curls, his eyes hold sympathy, knowing what is upsetting you before it even spills from your lips. You try to fake a smile but he can see right through it. 

“I thought it was you that organised the party,” he calmly states. 

“I did. But because Jackson instructed me to plan a party means he takes responsibility for it.” 

Mr Holland doesn’t waste a single second. “It isn’t right. It’s one thing to speak to you so rudely, but it’s another to take credit for your hard work, and I’m starting to believe that Jackson doesn’t value you as an intern as much as he values the superiority that comes with it, am I right?” 

Anxiously, your eyes catch Jackson lazily hanging over the bar and demanding another drink. If Mr Holland were to know the truth, it would get Jackson in a lot of trouble and the people-pleaser inside you is screaming at you to just deny it all. Your skewed perception of professionalism means skipping over these things, something about snitching just seems so petty and childish, and that’s not the impression you want to give Mr Holland of all people.

Mr Holland’s stern voice brings you back. “You’re not answering to him now, you’re answering to me. Am. I. Right?” 

You gulp. “Yes, sir.” 

“I intend to have a word with Jackson--” 

“Mr Holland, it’s okay, really--” You try to protest but he quickly rests his hand on top of yours, his warmth enveloping it completely, and your mind halts. Your heart flutters the moment his fingers curl just the little bit tighter, a compassion that says more than words could. It’s genuine, caring, but firm in a way that’s supportive, pledging to do right by you. 

“He will apologise to you and let everyone know the truth.” 

“Please, I don’t want to cause a hassle or stir anything in the office, I just want to do well. And what would it change if people knew the truth? It doesn’t bother me that much, honestly. Besides, you know the truth. That’s all that matters to me.” Desperately and without thinking, you twist your hand and your fingers interlock, returning the squeeze with a soft smile. Mr Holland tries his best to return the sentiment but you can tell the whole ordeal still troubles him and sits discontented by your side, a regretful sigh heaving through his lips. Soon, after a silent plea to let it go, he eventually sits level with you with a brighter sparkle to his eyes and instantly, the mood is lifted. You notice how his hand doesn’t leave yours. 

“You at least deserve a drink.” 

“I shouldn’t, I’m closing up tonight and I’m working early tomorrow.” 

He scowls for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, facing issue after issue the more you expose Jackson’s true nature. “It’s Saturday tomorrow, you should be having a day off.” 

“It’s laughable you think I get a day off,” you chuckle. The sad thing is, he thinks you’re joking. Jackson often sends you his overdraft of reports to complete over the weekend and has the cheek to deem you lucky that he gives you so much wisdom and experience. You can’t imagine Mr Holland being aware of this…

“Don’t be silly darling, everyone is entitled to days off. Even Taylor took a day off today for his birthday.” 

Again, your scathing laughter meets his ears and he tilts his head, that skewed eyebrow lifting high into his forehead. “No offence sir, but with his position, he can afford to. I don’t think interns have that same benefit--”

“Of course you do, it’s company policy that everyone is entitled to a day off on their birthday.” Before you get a word in, he’s already pulling out his phone from his suit pocket. “Tell me when your birthday is so I can make sure you get it off, and I know when to get you a birthday present. Taylor too--”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“We do it for all our employees, regardless if you’re an intern or not.” His calendar flashes to life before his eyes. “So when is it? June? July?” 

Your mouth suddenly goes dry and it gawps like a fish, not a usual response to such an easy question. Your fingers knead together on your lap as the sadness once again materialises and Mr Holland quickly senses something is amiss.

“It’s…it’s today. My birthday is…was today.” 

Mr Holland’s eyes widen with horror. It’s no less than a minute later that he finally replies. “And Jackson has you working?” 

“Since 7am this morning. I had asked for my birthday off two months ago because I did actually read the company policies, but he said interns can’t request holidays because they’re not permanent. I didn’t think anything of it.” 

“What?! For fuck’s sake…” Mr Holland twists his chair violently, its legs colliding with the table as he tries to face you more directly and leans forward, your knees slotting into the space between his. The wave of his anger has rolled back even higher in its tide and now, unlike before, there’s a vein popping at his temple. “Let me just make this clear, okay? Correct me if I’m wrong. You’re telling me that Jackson has knowingly denied you of your birthday holiday entitlement and instead had you plan someone else’s birthday just so that he can take credit for it, make you work through it and clean up after it as well?”

God. In his words it sounds so desperately sad. Up until this point, you were able to distract yourself from getting caught up in the tragedy of it all, but now there’s nothing stopping the gates from opening and wallowing in self-pity. Although your blurring eyes tell of your true emotions, the forced smile on your lips does everything it can to convince both you and Mr Holland that you’re not bothered by it. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Mr Holland’s heart inevitably sinks. In that moment, he thinks of the cruelty behind Jackson ordering you to buy and wrap his present for Taylor when you have none to open. He thinks of you, alone, buying the candles of the birthday cake you wouldn’t be blowing out. He thinks of you, just hours ago as the crowd sings happy birthday to another person, blissfully ignorant of your sorrow. He thinks of the hours you spent working when you should have been with your friends and family. It’s all of the things you truly deserve, but have been robbed from you. 

He reaches once again for your hand, now resting on your lap, and the tips of his fingers graze your thigh. You would be a fool to miss it. “Darling,” he sincerely murmurs, almost as quiet as a whisper. “I’m so sorry.” 

The fake smile takes lead and the rebel tear is wiped away. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

“But it’s not okay. You…you didn’t even get to have a drink.” Damnit, your cheeks are wet again. “Did you at least get a break today?” Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO. Don’t cry in front of your CEO.

In fact, you spend so much time failing to not cry that Mr Holland assumes the worst. He takes in a long, deep breath and lures you into his embrace with a hand creeping up to the back of your head, and the second your forehead hits his shoulder, the dams break.  

“I’m just so tired,” you sniff. 

“You’ve been overworked, darling, that’s why.” His hand passes over your hair, gently cupping the curve of your head as he takes in every hiccup. His breath flows past your ears smoothly, broken up every few seconds with whispers of comfort. You feel horribly embarrassed, crying into the expensive suit of your CEO at the party you organised on your birthday: definitely not the definition of professionalism you are chasing. 

“I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually like this.” You retreat from his shoulder but the hand cupping the back of your head prevents you from travelling too far and you’re stuck, just inches from Mr Holland’s pitying eyes. He keeps you concealed from the crowd, but it’s not enough to hide from the burning glare of Jackson, his eyes drawing daggers at you from over Mr Holland’s shoulder. He’s somewhat frozen in a stupor, scarily steady for a man who was flailing over the bar minutes ago, but anger is a quick cure for intoxication. 

Mr Holland’s voice sidles quietly into your ear. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. Get yourself up to bed, I’ll deal with Jackson.” 

“But--”

“I will not take no for an answer. Now go.” You shiver at the stern tone, appearing only as he turns to lock eyes with Jackson who’s faring a guilty look upon his face. As Mr Holland brings you both to a stand, he gently encourages you towards the golden doors and although you should be indulging in the relief of finally being let off, you can’t pull your focus away from Mr Holland’s cold stare that refuses to stray from Jackson. In the few seconds that it takes to walk from your chair to the doors, a clear, obvious shift in mood transpires, one that is felt by the entire room because now it isn’t just you that notices Mr Holland’s sudden decline in temperament. Evidently, everyone is quick to sense the tension. The crowd’s lively dancing now settles into an awkward shuffle and the singing dulls into hushed whispers because they know to never underestimate the seriousness of Mr Holland’s anger. It’s uncomfortable and intimidating, even more so if you’re the reason for his vexation and if that’s the case, you should be on your knees begging for his forgiveness. It’s the one power Mr Holland holds that Taylor, his business partner, his equal, doesn't possess. This is your first time seeing him exercise this power and it’s incredibly daunting. 

The beat of your heels clicking their way up the staircase is a quick one, not daring to hang around the unease any longer. The fresh smell of washed cotton that greets you in your room winds you down and you don’t spare a second of reflection before you strip yourself of your stiff dress, blister-inducing heels, thick make-up and the heavy stress. You slip right between the sheets, ready to drift asleep. 

The lights are switched off, your eyes are closed and your body properly relaxes. Yet inexplicably you can’t settle into your bed no matter how much you toss and turn. Rationale convinces you that it’s because you’re in a bed different from your own, that the mattress doesn’t have the mould of your body imprinted on it, and although it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, your inner conscience is telling you something else…

Flashes of memories made just half an hour prior spring to the surface and suddenly you’re watching yourself converse with Mr Holland again. But it isn’t exactly how you remember it.

For example, his hand is on your lap, gripping the curve of your thigh with his heat scorching through your skin when you know that, in reality, it was nothing more than a soft sweep. And when you both stood, you know he guided you with a gentlemanly hand, yet your dream sees his hand curving down the slope of your ass and squeezing the flesh. You have to refuse the idea of you shivering with arousal from hearing Mr Holland’s stern growl because truthfully, it was nerves. 

Or…was it both? 

You try to ignore it, but the seed has already been planted. Now all you can visualise is his fleeting touches, his soft voice praising you and calling you darling, the twinkle in his eyes as he sympathised for you, the caress of his hand through your hair as he comforted you, the way he cared for you, and fucking hell, the exhilaration of seeing him protect you so defensively when no one else did. His taut jaw, his clenched fists, his dark eyes, the pulsing vein at his temple, his eminence that commanded the room, the list is endless. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, succumbing to the pleasure of your own fingers toying with your clit. You don’t quite remember the exact moment your hand slipped beneath your underwear, too caught up in your fantasy of Mr Holland to realise. Regardless, the movie in your mind continues to play out and by now, none of it reflects any real events from tonight - it’s all purely fictional.

His hand slides up between your thighs. He dons a devilish grin because he knows there’s a whole crowd blissfully unaware behind him. An innocent gasp slips from your lips and it lures his eyes to your mouth, panting as he traces the letters of his name over your covered cunt as a sign as to who it belongs to. Overrun with anticipation, you bite your lip, feeling the pad of his finger slip beneath your thong and…

“Oh my god! Shit!” Your body seizes, curling into itself as your fingers dull to a small twitch between your clenched thighs. There’s a blissful moment where you ravish the hot rush of blood pulsing at your pussy, letting it bubble until it slows to a simmer, and only when you come down from your high minutes later do you fully realise what has just happened. Eyes split wide open, you rise from your bed.

You just masturbated fantasising over your CEO. 

What in the hell have you gotten yourself into? 

~~~~

The morning comes surprisingly quickly and the hotel's thin curtains don't fully shield you from the sun's glare. It’s bright, directly in your face and if you didn’t know any better, you would think that it’s spotlighting you because it knows what you did last night. As if you forgot…

The guilt still ruins your conscience and you feel nothing but regret; fantasising and sexualising Mr Holland’s kindness is just the pinnacle of everything you disagree with and it doesn’t exactly define the sort of professionalism you strive for. 

Shaking it off as best you can, you refresh yourself with a shower and a harsh splash of cold water to your face, and by the time you open your laptop it’s 9am. There hasn’t been any emails from Jackson so far which you’re not too sure if you’re shocked by. It’s typical on a Saturday morning for Jackson to send you multiple reports with deliberately vague instructions that you would somehow have to decode and translate for yourself. But regarding last night’s events, perhaps he’s heeded Mr Holland’s words and decided to honour your weekend entitlements. 

The white screen stares back at you, watching you nervously bite your nails as if you’re expecting a red notification to pop up, attached to an email from Jackson with hungover words. A minute or two passes by and alas, nothing. Not a word. In all honesty, you don’t have an issue with it, not at all, but it means that your routine is completely disrupted and you’re struggling to decide what to do with yourself. And without work, you have nothing to distract you from last night’s sin while it plagues your mind. 

A new sweat arises and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, and that’s the part you think is the worst. Why did it feel so fucking good?

What brings you out of your self-loathing is three quick, quiet knocks echoing from your door in quick succession. Curious, you open the door and when you see who stands there in all his formal glory, you wish you hadn’t. Your heart immediately jumps to your mouth. 

“Oh, Mr Holland--hi. I wasn’t expecting you…” Your words fade into a soft whisper when your eyes spot a small pink bag, its ribbon handles hooked daintily onto his fingers. Surely that can’t be what you think it is…?

He’s painfully quiet, a small smile painting his lips at what he sees; he’s never seen you dress so casually before and he wants to take a good long look at you, unsure of when he’ll see such a sight again. The weight of his stare burns holes through you, heating you from within.

Not a second later, he holds out the pink bag towards you and you forget to breathe. 

“Happy belated birthday,” he gently voices. Your fingertips graze each other as you take it from him. For such a small, delicate bag, it’s certainly weighty and your stomach drops thinking about how much money he’s stupidly wasted on you…

“Thank you sir, really. You didn’t have to do that.” A nervous chuckle escapes your dry mouth. “How…how did you get this so quickly? It’s barely past 9 in the morning.”

“I have a few contacts who owe me a few favours. And I just felt so guilty about you missing your birthday. Sorry you couldn’t celebrate it like you should’ve.”

 “Like I said, it’s okay--” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly but surely, a taunting smirk begins to form. “Am I going to have to give you the same ‘talking to’ I gave Jackson last night to make you realise that it is definitely not okay?”

Yes, yes, yes, fucking yes. “No, no, of course not. Sorry, I suppose that’s just the people-pleaser in me.” 

Mr Holland stands stoic before you, his head slightly tilted and his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes are watching you endearingly, drawing you into him, but everything else about him oozes something that makes you want to swallow a little harder. His confidence in himself is mildly intimidating and you wish you could feel the same. Just his being here creates a dizzying effect on you that you just can’t shake. 

“You can think of this as a congratulations of sorts too.” 

You tilt your head. “Congratulations?” 

“Mh-hm,” his eyes flit over your confusion, a devilish, haunting smirk gracing his wet lips. “Congratulations on becoming a permanent member of Taylor and I’s company.” 

Mr Holland admiring you be damned, you find yourself taking a step back in shock. “Are you…are you serious?” 

“Of course I’m serious, do you think I would lie to you?” 

“Not at all, I just, I thought it was going to be Jackson’s decision. I am his intern.” 

You aren’t a fool to miss the way his jaw ticks at the mention of Jackson’s name and all too quickly, a ferocious fire consumes his eyes. A small shiver cuts through your skin. “You don’t work for Jackson anymore because Jackson no longer works for me.” 

“What?!” 

“What did you think when I said I was going to deal with Jackson? That he was going to continue working for me even after finding out he was treating you badly? Or finding out that he orders you to do his work over the weekends? Or even when he blackmails you into doing jobs beyond your remit? How could you possibly think that I would let that sleazy bastard feed off my pay when I know he isn’t capable of the job? You’re far more deserving of the position than he is, far more deserving of the appreciation and beyond capable.”

“Sir, I…I can’t thank you enough. I’m very grateful. I won’t let you down, I promise.” 

“I know you won’t. Although I do sometimes wish you would’ve told me or Taylor about Jackson’s behaviour sooner. I don’t tolerate that kind of exploitation, not even for a second and you shouldn’t have either.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in wanting to do well that I would’ve done anything to please the company.”

“Maybe you should stop spending your time trying to please other people, and focus on pleasing yourself.” His face gravitates just a hairsbreadth towards yours and in quieter, darker words, he whispers… “You were certainly capable of pleasing yourself last night.” 

You take a timid step back, mouth agape. You can’t think of anything to say, not when the ringing in your ears starts to resonate louder and louder. Shame swells like a disease and you can feel the bile rising in your throat. You are almost certain you didn’t hear anyone outside your room last night, how could he have possibly known? 

“I…um…I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

He smoothly leans against the door frame, his wicked grin tells you that he doesn’t believe a word you say. Nevertheless, he explains, not to worsen how mortified he knows you already feel, but to reminisce of the surge of adrenaline and lust that coursed through him last night. 

“I came by late last night to drop off your present. I didn’t think you would still be awake so I planned on leaving it at your door, and just as I bent down to place it there, I heard just the softest of moans—“

“I think you must be mistaken—“ An uneasy chuckle barely covers your tracks, leaving you just as compromised as before. 

“I thought you might’ve been with someone, but I then didn’t hear any other voices, so I assumed you were by yourself.” 

“Sir,” you squeak, intending to finish your sentence but you just don’t have the words nor the confidence to deny him of what he already knows. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, exposed and vulnerable without the faintest idea of how to get yourself out of his commanding presence. 

A million and one emotions rage through you and drown you in a fluster. Your feet shuffle nervously beneath you, slowly inching your way back into your hotel room as you sense yourself losing control over the conversation. With a mouth drier than the Sahara desert, there’s not much else you can do or say to avoid falling victim to both Mr Holland’s taunting and your own taunting; last night’s images playing out before you more vividly now that he resurrects them. 

The subject finally diverges, but it doesn’t mean you're any more comfortable with it. “Do you know you’re the only one that addresses me as ‘sir’?” 

You shake your head, eyes inevitably averted. You didn’t know that, you just thought it was professional. 

“You never corrected me.” 

“I didn’t want to.” 

“Why not?” 

“I liked hearing it. Just as much as I liked what I heard last night. But I need to know,” he takes a step to cross the threshold of your hotel room. “Was there anything…anyone in particular crossing your mind?” 

“There was…” His jaw ticks furiously and you instantly get the notion that denying him is simply not a choice here. 

“Who?” He demands in that stern voice you’ve heard only once before. 

One word sits on your tongue and you know that as soon as it breaks the silence, the professionalism you worked so hard to build up will crumble before you. But the risk is entirely worth it. 

“You.” 

Mr Holland’s lips part and releases a snicker as if he knew, and the curl of his smirk becomes dangerous. He lets the singular word ring out into the air, and the tension envelopes you both in a suffocating bubble until he finally speaks. “You…what?” 

“You, sir.” 

His chest rumbles with approval and you even feel its vibrations fluttering low in your stomach. Desire consumes you; a desire to know what he’s thinking, to know what he’s planning to do with that compromising information, to figure out whether he’ll respond to it in a way that satiates your more promiscuous desires like the ones that distracted you last night. You would give anything to see what’s going on inside his head. 

Inexplicably, he nods towards your pink bag, easily brushing over your last conversation like it was nothing to him and it completely throws you off. “You should open it.” 

It takes a second to drag your eyes away from him. You actually forgot you’re still holding it in your hands. The tissue paper rustles loudly as you reach in-- “Inside.” Mr Holland urges. With a short nod, you lead the way, allowing him to slowly close the door behind you with a gut-wrenching squeak and a thunderous boom.

The second the door shuts, the air becomes taut, strained and harder to breathe and you dedicate all your efforts into ignoring your last conversation just as easily as he had, but he’s standing right behind you and the warmth of his breath skates past your ear and it’s all you can think about. Even without disclosing what he now knows, the presence of Mr Holland alone would bring about such unnerving effects, so you don’t find yourself at fault for struggling to keep it together. 

From the pink bag you pull out a small white and gold box, wrapped with yet another ribbon. Inside is a silver chain, light and dainty, but the pendant it carries is nothing alike. The reflection of the sun hits the circular-cut diamond, becoming iridescent as it hits your eyes. The stone is slightly on the larger side, bigger than any other necklace you own, but it sits perfectly in the balance of being flashy yet classy. Expensive yet tasteful. It’s a piece that you can’t price and that exact thought scares you. 

“It’s beautiful,” you softly murmur. The chain cascades elegantly across your fingers, almost mesmerising to watch. 

Your eyes catch his movement in the mirror in front of you and steals your attention away from the necklace. He holds out his hand by your side, soft but firm. 

“May I?” You almost flinch as his words hit your ear, the ripple of your shiver continues for long after. As the chain pools in his hand, he is equally gentle, handling it with expertise while he lifts it carefully over head and rests the pendant tenderly in the dip between your clavicles. Its icy cold touch seers your skin, heat radiating with each grazing touch of his fingers as they clasp the chain together behind your neck. Once secure, you admire the way it shines brightly against your skin tone, eyes momentarily lost in your image until you realise that yours are the only pair looking back at you. Mr Holland remains engrossed with the curve of your neck, his proximity close enough to be counting the beats of your pulse as it thumps beneath your skin and for all you know, it’s elevating, thrashing harder and harder while you watch with wide eyes as Mr Holland presses his lips against it. 

The second his lips meet your skin, his hands find your hips, holding you steady to prevent you from buckling. A numbing tingle shoots through your nervous system at the feeling of Mr Holland swiping his tongue across the reddening bruise he’s leaving behind. Every kiss is with purpose, targeting each and every sweet spot as if he had a map to each of their location: the peak of your neck that connects to your jaw, the sensitive spot just millimetres below your ear, the slight curve of your shoulder that sits beneath the chain. He instantly claims you, and you show no sign of resistance when you find yourself voluntarily tilting your neck, begging for more.

You finally meet his eyes in the mirror, realising how cavernous his blown-out pupils are; that if you search too far you’ll become trapped. “This…” he whispers, planting another kiss to your ear, his hands beckoning to the chain, “is the only thing I’ll allow you to wear while I fuck you.” 

A shameless, breathless mewl whines from your throat and a rampage of endorphins consumes you. As the first piece of insight to his mind, you don’t get nearly enough time to let it process in your head before his clawing hands are tugging at the drawstrings of your joggers. 

The small nip to your neck is a wake-up call. This is real and this isn’t a fantasy of yours, only that it will be a recreation of what had you orgasming last night. 

“You know, I can be a people pleaser too.” His hand slips beneath your joggers, but refrains from slipping beneath your underwear. “I can please you in so many ways.” As a testimony to his words, his fingers trace over the silk of your underwear, catching your bud in its travels and a silent gasp bursts from your lips. “But not without earning it. Do as you’re told, and I’ll do exactly that.” 

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, words vacant, eyes rolling. 

“Are you listening to me?” The hand on your hip squeezes harshly and you jerk in his arms. You have never agreed to something quicker in your life.

“Yes, sir! Oh—” 

“Good. Then you can start by closing those curtains over there.” 

His hand slips fluidly out of your joggers when you force yourself away from the subtle torment. The light dims a little, however you think it’s more for privacy than for light. When your back turns once again, Mr Holland sits himself on the edge of the bed, legs spread and leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Whatever it is about him in that single second triggers something in you; attraction, lust, sex appeal, or all of the above. Whatever it is, it compels you to give yourself in to him.

A messy mixture of want, need and unrelenting desire brings you to your knees before him. His eyes sweep over your face, examining, analysing, translating every desperate twitch. He can even see your lips parting where he spots the remnants of teeth marks from when you had nervously bitten them in hidden moments. Smoothly, the pad of his thumb brushes over your lip, tugging it into a pout because that’s what he wants to see; you, desperate, pouting, begging for him. It soon pops back into place, his hand now curling around your chin and pulling you closer. His own lips are nothing more than a breath away from yours and you think he’s going to finally kiss you, but annoyingly, he only allows you to feel the shape of the words as he whispers them to you. 

“So what is it about me then, hm? What do I do that turns you on?” 

“It’s…it’s stupid.” 

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let me rephrase.” The grip on your chin tightens and your noses collide. “Tell me what it is about me that turns you on.” 

“Last night at the party, you were the only one that…cared. You made me feel like I wasn’t invisible.” 

“What else?” 

“You stood up to Jackson for me - you just looked so determined like you were unstoppable.” 

He tilts his head in the other direction now, leaning in just as close, your breaths mingling together. You’re so desperate to feel his lips on yours. “And?” 

“When…when you touched my thigh--”

“You were burning.”

“I was nervous--” 

“Because of me.” 

“Of course because of you. I was scared of disappointing you.” 

A small snicker escapes him and leaves behind a wicked smirk. Two hands now firmly cradle your jawline and you think the moment has finally come. Why else would your heart be thumping in your chest? 

“Not possible. I always knew you were a good girl. And I think you like being told that, don’t you? You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it. I saw that coy little look on your face the first time I told you how impressed I was. It was obvious that no one else had praised you like I did - you couldn’t keep yourself together. And I bet if I kept telling you how fucking sweet you are, and how much of an perfect angel I know you are for me, the second I slip my fingers into your tight little pussy, you’d be an absolute mess.” 

Well, he’s not wrong. You’re already soaked. 

“Please, sir,” you whimper. “Please just kiss me.” 

Finally, finally, he pulls you in for a long, languid kiss, his tongue takes lead to taste every part of your bitten lips as they slot perfectly in between his, lingering longer with each time he captures them. The blood rushes so quickly through your veins you think you might implode, overwhelmed by just how good it feels that your hands suddenly grapple onto the cuffs of his shirt. 

A satisfied hum buzzes against your lips, twisting your own into a small grin that unbeknown to you, Mr Holland could actually feel. 

“Let me see you,” he demands, his hands plucking at the hem of your sweatshirt. When you don’t do it right away, a tight grip coils around your neck and stops the gasp leaving your mouth. “Do. As. You’re. Told.” 

You’re baring your all for him (all except a diamond necklace) in a matter of seconds, standing before him as he leisurely leans back against the bed, resting on his elbows. Those predatory eyes roam your body, mapping out the shape and details, and imprinting them to memory. 

“So fucking pretty…” He deliberately watches for your reaction and you crumble under the praise resulting in a mirthful laughter to shake his chest. His arms reach for your waist, luring you in with the tight grab of your hips until his lips sit just below your ribs. The heat from his breath hitting your skin makes you involuntarily wriggle, but he doesn’t allow for any movement from you, not unless he permits it. You feel his lips suddenly, trailing across your ribs and up your chest. “Do you know what good girls like you do for me?”

“What?” You breathlessly murmur.

“They get on their knees,” Mr Holland pauses to let you act on it. Now you’re looking up at him as his knuckle ghosts over your cheeks and he mingles closer. “They look at me right in the eyes and they beg me to give them a taste, to let them suck me off because they’ll do anything for a reward, even if it is just a few words of praise. So let’s hear you, pretty girl. I want to hear you beg me with that sweet, innocent voice of yours.” 

You take a cautious breath. “I want to taste you so badly, sir. Please. Will you let me?” 

“Hmm.” He purses his lips. Shit. It isn’t good enough for him and he spots the panic in your eyes. All of a sudden, you begin pleading in such a desperate, childish tone you didn’t know you were capable of. Even your lip begins pouting as the need to please him becomes so overwhelming that, unexpectedly, your eyes water, like you’re facing life or death. And he is the decider. 

“Wait, wait, no, please, I want to make you feel so good, so, so, so good. I can do it, I promise, and I can be good for you if you let me. Please sir, I really need it. I’ll do anything.” 

Mr Holland smiles and gently kisses you with approval, just the shortest of pecks of reassurance before he leans back and nods towards the zipper of his suit trousers, tented with the erection that’s pleading to be satisfied. You waste no time in unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling free his hard cock that almost dwarfs your hand and you stare at him with such bewilderment, a stare that is returned by a certain smugness, a confidence that has you licking your lips. 

There’s a surge of instinct coursing through you and your brain convinces you that there’s nothing else you should be doing, that your whole purpose at this very moment is to do as you promise; to please him, to make him feel good, so when you hear his moans the second you wrap your lips around him, your heart flutters with fulfilment. It’s a sensation you keep chasing, growing stronger the longer you bob your head up and down his cock, every time his praise seeps from his lips, and you just about lose it when his fingers comb through your hair. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. Not too little, not too much. Consistency is key. 

You’re not sure how much of an idea he has about just how dedicated you are in your mission to prove yourself to him, that you’re desperate to show how capable you are by what you’re willing to do; perhaps a horrible side-effect of having to constantly prove yourself to Jackson with each conversation, but with Mr Holland, there’s an element of belief and confidence: a contradiction between Jackson’s ‘I don’t believe you until you prove it’ versus Mr Holland’s ‘do it because I know you can’. 

Mr Holland’s head falls back, his eyes closed, and falls into an eerie silence. If it wasn’t for his hand still combing through your roots, you would’ve thought he wasn’t satisfied with you. Still, you keep going, running your lips and tongue down his shaft and returning slowly back up again where you get a teaser of the bitter-sweet taste you’re vying for. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re undecided of whether you’re doing so well that he’s speechless, or you’re not doing enough that’s worthy of his praise. It’s hard to tell with his head tilted back, and you begin to lose faith. You’ve become so drawn into his voice and words that you feel lost without them.

‘You like being recognised to the point where you need to be reassured of it.’

“Sir,” you meekly voice, leaving a beat to suck on the head of his cock. “Am I making you feel good?” 

The depth of his growl sends a spike of arousal straight to your clit. He spits out his words in a manner that’s uncontrollable. “Fucking incredible.”

His head finally lifts and his eyes pin on you, fully blown and dilated. “Look at you - oh fuck - taking me so well. Knew you’d be a good girl but f-fuck, I don’t know if I can hold it in any longer.” 

You reply with a wanton mewl, your dopey, tear-stained eyes saying the words your mouth can’t. You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto the carpet, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Mr Holland swings forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath. It's slightly tense and panic-inducing but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you have proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Mr Holland pants. His grip loosens around you and your lips release him with a pop. The instant your lips are free, he claims them, humming into them with adoration. “That was…” A soft, tender kiss. “The best goddamn…” Then another. “Blow job I’ve ever had.” He kisses you for a final time with a smile laced through it, and rests his forehead on yours to give himself some time to catch his breath. “So good…” he breathes. “So, so, so good. Sweet angel. My sweet angel.”

There isn’t anything to describe the burst of achievement that swarms your chest when you hear those words and your cheeks inevitably heat under his hands. You’re smiling, obviously smiling and no matter how hard you bite your lips to hide it, the pull is too strong. You make yourself far too goddamn easy to read so when Mr Holland catches a glimpse of your reaction, he smirks, clearly amused, and simultaneously reaches down the length of your body until his hand finds sanctum between your thighs. 

“Hmm, you’re soaked, darling. Don’t you think we should do something about it? After all, you’re earned your reward, and I’m dying for a taste of that messy, little pussy of yours.” 

You release a shaky breath when his fingers start exploring. “Yes, oh god, yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Better. Let’s not make that mistake again.” 

“No, sir.” 

“Good. Now--”  In a vice-like grip, Mr Holland encircles your waist and your body burns against the rough cashmere of his suit. It’s surprisingly stimulating as he casually hauls you off your feet, but you would much rather the heat of his skin. Nevertheless, your back soon meets the soft cotton of your sheets as he lays you to rest on the bed, remaining shadowing above you basking in the sight of your naked, wanting body. The diamond that nestles deep into the base of your throat twinkles obnoxiously in his eyes and he almost grows jealous of the way it hugs your neck. However, it's a jealousy he can overlook as his eyes wander over the peak of your breasts and your glistening cunt, because he knows that they are all for him. 

Mr Holland promptly sinks to his knees, placing his head in between your thighs, his eyes never straying from your cunt. There isn’t a moment of hesitation when he swings his arms to cross over your hips, dragging your legs effortlessly over his shoulders and diving, tongue first, into your cunt. It’s a complete invasion of his touch, his tongue immediately swirling around your clit with a careful, consistent pressure that deep down, you know will end you in minutes. The gasp is telling of your struggle to keep composed, gradually crescendoing into a moan as that amorous tongue descends down your slit, licking you up in long, fat strips. An urge in your hips begs for attention, wanting to raise higher to ease the tension building deep in your stomach, but you're trapped, locked in place with no routes of escape and you have to tell yourself that you just have to tough it out. 

But it’s harder said than done when he begins slotting his tongue into your hole, tasting and caressing every inch of you he’s capable of reaching. Digging deeper and deeper, his mouth consumes the entirety of your cunt, humming into it to push you further over the edge. He knows you’re hanging on by a thread, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to slow down. And just then, an evil, malicious thought spawns in his mind which he voices immediately. 

“You’re not cumming until I say so. Understood?” 

The feeling of you clenching to stop the impending orgasm has him chuckling. He knew you were close. 

“Such a sweet, little angel. So obedient too, right?” He blows a gentle breeze onto your clit and you simply whimper in response. “Right?”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

Satisfied, Mr Holland has your cunt in his mouth again, salivating over its taste as he suckles on your clit, your folds, your skin, anything to lure out what he knows he’s going to get eventually, but it makes it twice as appetising when he knows your orgasm is only at his command. 

Meanwhile, your heart stammers in your chest with each tug of his lips. Whatever sanity you have left to cling onto, you claw at it with desperate hands, fighting to hold up the wall that blocks the blood rushing to your cunt, holding your breath to stop the bubble from bursting, because fuck, you are ready to snap. You can’t help but notice how he’s taken a page from your book, pleasuring you at a steady consistent pace, not too much but not too little. Unsurprisingly, the result is the same but the conditions are far worse.

“Oh my god, please let me cum, I can’t hold it anymore.” 

His grip only tightens, his tongue moves faster and his mouth gets hotter. 

Your hands, of a mind of their own, decide to condemn your obedience and push at his arms around your hips in an attempt to get away. Despite his obvious strength, you somehow manage to get a microsecond of respite, but his mouth only sucks you back in again, murmuring only one word that runs laps around your head.

“Obedience.” 

“I can’t, sir, please, I can’t h-hold on. Fuck!” 

“Oh dear.” 

“NO! No, no, no, no, okay, okay, I’ll do it, I can hold on. Just…please go slower.” 

His dark cavernous eyes meet yours from behind his arms, unmoving even as he relishes the taste of your slick, challenging you for only a second before he thankfully listens to your wishes. Weakened, your head flops back onto the bed with a small bounce, eyes drifting shut as the feeling in your stomach calms and a small relief hugs your heart. It’s a small price to pay to lose the feeling of euphoria that was going to course through you…only if Mr Holland had let it or if your people-pleasing traits had failed you, none of which had actually happened. 

The feeling deflates but the pleasure still lingers.

“You taste so delicious, darling. I could eat you all day.” Arousal jumps to your clit like a flash of electricity. “And you’re doing so well for me, how could I ever stop?” This time, it’s his tongue, soft and caressing. “And this pussy; so pretty, so fucking pretty, I could just play with it for days.” His finger begins circling your clit not too long after he spits into it. By now, you realise what he’s doing. He’s feeding into your need for praise that, along with the small touches and sweeping licks, builds you up just as quickly and suddenly as before, and once again you’re struggling to cope. “I know you can be such a good girl for me, I know you can do as I say, and you have no idea how much it turns me on when you do.” 

“Sir…” You warn. He instantly recognises the desperation. 

“I’ve got one last instruction for you, angel.” He sucks on your clit for just a couple of seconds, just to get you closer and closer to falling apart. “Cum for me. Cum in my mouth.” 

“Fuck!” You scream as an endless stream of euphoria consumes you, hitting you in a sudden white wash of heat that riddles your entire body top to toe. You can feel your cunt clenching erratically, between homing an orgasm and suffering under Mr Holland's continuous lashings, it can't, not for one second, rest until either relent. You feel your own slick, hot and bothered, trickling down your ass but before it gets the chance to meet with the white sheets beneath you, Mr Holland sweeps it up expertly with his tongue, partnered with a primal growl of pleasure.

By the time Mr Holland has finished cleaning up every inch of your cunt and ass with his tongue, he proceeds to kiss his way gently up your body, not forgetting to leave your tits untouched and pinches your buds between his lips. You have just enough energy to cradle his head, allowing yourself the pleasure to run your fingers through his hair, moving with him while he leaves sharp kisses to your chest, your collar bone, your neck, ear and jaw, until once again, those hungry lips claim yours.

Still somewhat recovering, you purr quietly, content with the overall sense of pleasure, both of your sexual and people-pleasing needs.

Your lips slowly part. The kiss ceases but your noses brush off one another gently, still basking in the blissful, intimate aftermath of what's just happened. Your CEO above you remains, hovering over you with admiration in his eyes, running over your features as if it is the first time he's seeing them, adoring them all over again.

There's two words sitting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind a smirk because he knows what he'll see when he speaks them.

"You're beautiful."

Of course, his prediction comes true. Your cheeks redden, your eyes roll away and your teeth sink into your swollen lips, muttering incoherently about it not being true but thanks him incessantly, but Mr Holland is too caught up in your coy modesty to rebuttal. It's just like the first time he complimented you, and he realises then and there that he's addicted to being the person that makes you shy, blushed, diffident.

Being a CEO, he does indeed posses significant power in the palm of his hand, obtained by hard work, dedication, commitment and sacrifice, but for him, there isn't a power stronger than the one he has over you and all it takes is a few, simple, praising words.

"We still have another three hours until check out."

Your eyes and ears perk up. "Sir?"

Cautiously, he shuffles above you, innocent until you feel his cock sliding into you and he relishes the catch in the back of your throat at the sudden pressure forcing its way fluidly into you. You're simply speechless, questioning if it'll ever end as he pushes every inch of him inside you, breaching and stretching the boundaries of your walls. Mr Holland snags your bottom lip between his teeth, harshly biting as a relief for the tight grip that surrounds his cock.

When your ass eventually meet his hips, you both release a groan in unison, breaths mixing and mingling until Mr Holland breaks the silence.

"You're gonna look even more beautiful when you're all fucked out and dumb for my cock, all with a diamond wrapped round your neck."

His hips snap back at a frighteningly fast pace and thrusts in even more aggressively. The pain is immeasurably exhilarating. Your thighs squeeze his waist, mouth agape without a single breath escaping.

"Think of this as a second birthday gift." Like before, he draws back and slams into you without mercy. "Do as you're told and you'll get your third on Monday in my office."

Somehow, your gut tells you that you won't have a problem with that. Not at all.

#dom!tom holland #ceo!tom holland #soft!dom!tom holland #sub!reader #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #smut #angst #peter parker smut #one shot #peter parker #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #praise you like i should

[thewriterg]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

pairing(s); tom holland x fem!reader, sub!tom x dom!reader

summary; Tom hadn’t been to a costume party since he was in college but thanks to his brother Harry he’s broken his record but the actor quite say he regret making a deal with the devil —kinktober day; 21—

word count; 1.5k

warning(s); SMUT, spanking, face riding, oral (f receiving), tail job?, edging, kisses, pet names, and language

playlist; glory box by portishead

A/n:—GIFs; @ffckedup & @erensbitch— It’s kink mf tober

“Oh fuck you Harry” Tom muttered watching the banquet come into his view and suddenly his urge to crawl up into a ball and have his driver that was made to sure he entered the establishment by his dear brother of course take him back home while he inched closer to the party it was VIP, invite, and celebs only but the didn’t seem to make the brunette go jump off a cliff any less

If anything it could make the urge stronger

“Is there a problem Mr Holland?” The chauffeur questioned as he opened the brunettes door a little underlying urge to his voice and the actor took the hint stepping out of the black Porsche patting the man on his suit covered shoulder shaking his head with a small smile

“No, thank you” Suddenly not really so for the suit secure on his toned body not expecting the familiar white flashing lights shoved into his face as multiple questions were thrown his way he tight lipped the pap before getting rushed into the building flashing changing colored lights and blaring music taking over his senses and he heard different greetings from all over the place

“Spidey!”

“Oh Tom hi!”

“Is that the real suit man!?”

it was definitely college nostalgia to say the least

He smiled and waved at all of who he could making his way toward the bar a whiskey on the rocks imbedded in his mind greatly he had been mingling for less than twenty minutes and he already wanted to leave the least he could do is indulge in a little drink to treat himself for not already crawling under a rock

“Need a drink?” Tom heard a voice directly by his ear and when he turned to his head to look at the direction of sound just to turn around and find nothing before he reset to his usual position you were in front of him horns coming from your forehead your eyes crimson fangs peaking through as you spoke

“Pretty boy can’t handle loud noises and flashing lights?” You questioned lowly a teasing underlying tone thick on your tongue as you took a glass from the counter setting a cube in the glass and pouring Jack Daniels in the glass passing it to the brunette swiftly

“That’s cute, well aren’t you adorable” He hummed before taking a swallow of the bitter liquid falling into his mouth and down his throat eyebrows furrowing when he looked up from his glass and you weren’t there in front of him like you were

“Willing to make a deal with the devil Tommy?” You hummed in the actors ear making him shiver his mouth agape at the sudden change his eyes darting from behind the counter back towards where you’re standing now his heartbeat staring to beat a bit faster

“I-I um, guess I’ll roll that dice” He whispered before jumping in his seat as something wrapped around his leg before retreating and looked down to see a very realistic looking tail swinging back and forth at his feet before you were walking away a dramatic sway in your hips

“That one’s a looker who’s your designer? Woah where you going darling?” Tom was out of his seat following after you dodging dancing bodies until the music was dying down in his ears the lights no longer flashing in his eyes the actor felt a fog take over him clouding his senses until he was somewhere he completely didn’t recognize

“Gonna ask you one more time, willing to make a deal with the devil” He could see you fully now his head spinning his sense fully clouded of you his pupils dilated and his control felt compelled to you

“Whatever you want.. Miss whatever you want” He uttered dropping to his knees in front of you while your tail swayed against the back of your calves while you circled the brunette your heels clicking against the floor before you took a seat behind him your head tilting at the sight of his toned back

“You’ve done this before?” You interrogate him not moving from your position on the end of the giant bed frame while pressing a heel on the surface of his back pushing him to all fours while he goes down without a protest

“Yes mam” You hummed in response he’s obedient and pure with just with a little dark underlying it was… refreshing to say the least

“Go across the room strip I want everything off and then, crawl back to me” The brunette scurried away and he thanked the years of rushing in and out of the suit all over the world while he heard you heels against the floor the sound imbedded in his mind while crouching back down to his knees slowly returning to the spot he once was this time his carved face looking up into yours with those doe brown eyes filled with just about zero thoughts, jaw sharp enough to cut a sheet of glass, and the slight bump on his nose that would hit the spot

“You’ve ever been punished Tommy?” You whispered and he felt the presence of your tail against him again this time a thousand more times pleasurable causing him to let out an uncontrollable moan slipping from his lips his cheeks heating up tinting a soft pink before he could open his mouth for a response something whipped down on his lower back and the crack of his ass a whimper tangling in the brunettes tongue his curls sticking to his forehead

“I asked you a question” You hissed patience wearing blatantly thin

“Yes miss I have” He winced at the crop coming back down on his ass the sting subtle at first before cracking a burning punch and it continues tears brought to his eyes dripping onto the floor his backside battered and bruised and the actor knew sitting down would be a challenge for the next few days to come

“You think you should apologize for your manners pup?” You come into his view now only in a set of black lace that didn’t cover much he could feel himself salivating in his mouth

“Yes, please let me I’ll make it right I swear- I’ll do anythin-” He quiets at the look of you hand in the air aiding him to stop your presence demanding attention and affection God by the looks of it to Tom you deserve to be prayed to a temple built directly off of your body You slip down the pair of underwear your cunt bared to him while you took striding steps towards his frame and the pale boy took a small second to dart out his tongue to wet his lips before you hovering directly over his face like a dog with a bone

“Look at you finally learning being a real good boy, stay, stay, eat.” You hummed as he dived into your clit at your call his tongue dipping into you fold collecting the build up of arousal and your hand slithers up to his head and into his hair pulling and tugging roughly causing Tom to whine coyly the vibrations shooting up your spleen causing you to close your thighs on his head a borderline pornographic moan spilling from you while your rolled you hips against his face the bump in his nose hitting your clotting causing your hips to stutter

Toms hips suddenly bucked up into nothing a muffled groan that would’ve shook the room otherwise coming from his throat your tail wrapped around his cock stroking him the same pace he was stroking your clit with his tongue and the brunette began to come to the realization that it really wasn’t a prosthetic as he circled your clit flattening his tongue against your bundle of nerves while you hissed in pleasure your knees shaking on either side of his head he takes this time to finally attack your bud like a shark in a pool with a drop of blood and your eyes snap open while you let out a scream your coating rushing down to Tom’s tongue dribbling down his chin while he lapped up all the juices he scientifically could and then some the action riding you through your high almost putting you into overstimulation until you finally lift up your knees a little wobbly and your stance a little more slouched and the look you explain on the man’s face is drunk to say the least

You smirk while he whines your tail coming of his flushed cock his release slipping through his fingers like sand

“Didn’t think it’d be that easy did you?”

©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

#🦇𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑;𝐆 #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #sub!peter parker #sub!tom #sub!tom holland #spooktober #kinktober #angstober #flufftober #romance #smut #avengers x reader #fem!reader #i love you #thewriterg #2023

[awritessomething]

I have absolutely no ideas for writing whatsoever pleaseplease leave requests!!! Smut, angst, fluff, whatever y’all want I can probably do.

Ill write for these people and probably more that I forgot (all male character x fem!reader) :

Formula 1:

Max Verstappen

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

Pierre Gasly

Lewis Hamilton

Carlos Sainz

Daniel Riccardo

Mick Schumacher

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

David Rossi (preferably young)

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes

Tony Stark

Thor

Sam Wilson

Deadpool

Steve Rogers

Spiderman (Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield, Miguel O'hara)

Call of Duty

Keegan Russ

Simon "Ghost" Riley

König

Phillip Graves

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Star Wars:

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Outer Banks:

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

Topper Thornton

John B. Routledge

Harry Potter:

Harry Potter

Cedric Diggory

Draco malfoy

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Regulus Black

Severus Snape

Tom Riddle

Sirius Black

Lorenzo Berkshire

Oliver Wood

The Walking Dead:

Glenn Rhee

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Sports:

Joao Felix

Jude Bellingham

Brock Purdy

Leon Draisaitl

Jack Hughes

Vince Dunn

Mitch Marner

Connor Bedard

Wayne Gretzky (young)

Miscallaneous:

Jack Champion (Ethan Landry)

Patrick Bateman

Batman (Christian Bale)

Johnathan Crane

Finnick Odair

Josh Hutcherson (Peeta Mellark, Mike Schmidt, Sean Anderson, Clapton Davis)

Rodrick Heffley

Colby Brock

Sam Golbach

Tristan Dugray

Dylan O'brien

Bellamy Blake

Patrick Dempsey (Derek Shepherd, Ronald Miller)

Joe Goldberg

Timothee Chalamet (Wonka, Paul Atreides)

Minho (The Maze Runner)

Keanu Reeves (John Wick, Neo, Alex Wyler, Dr. Beckham, Julian Mercer, Ted Logan)

Jim Halpert

Farkas

Ulfric Stormcloak

Miraak

Ben Schnetzer (Max Vandenburg, Brad Land, Russ Sheppard)

Ralph Macchio (Daniel Larusso, Johnny Cade)

Dallas Winston

Sodapop Curtis

Robby Keene

Zuko (atla dallas liu)

Jet (atla sebastian amoruso)

Cillian Murphy (Johnathan crane, jackson rippner, Neil Lewis)

Evan Peters (all ahs characters, Luke cooper)

What I wont do:

Pedophilia

Beastiality or anything animal-y

Waterworks

Male reader (sorry)

Character x character

Threesomes or anything not 1x1

Character x oc

Specific body types (i just don’t see the point)

Daddy/mommy kinks

Incest or stepcest

(I’ll prob have to add on but its midnight rn)

#f1 #f1 imagine #angst #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smut #formula1 #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #max verstappen angst #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes #chris evans #rodrick heffley #sam and colby

[nappingtopknot]

Masterlist

Maybe I'll get fancy with this in the future...

Follow along with #Thirst Nights

Fluff-💘

Smut-💦

Angst-🖤

Will Poulter

Blubs:

Valentines Day 💘

Delayed Flight 💘

Praise Kink 💦

Hot and Bothered 💦

Giggly Filth 💦

Relieving Himself (Short) 💦💦

Titanic 💦

Lazy Sundays 💘💦

Secret Crush 💘💦

Thunderstorms 💦

Frustrated Will 💦

Strangers & Alleyways 💦

Rooftops💘

Dubious Consent 💦

Colin x Kitty x Reader 💦

The Awkward Call 💦

Home for the Holidays 💘

Headcanons:

SFW + NSFW 💦💘

Shower Fun 💦

Casual Dates 💘

Thigh Riding 💦

Drunk Will 💘

Drunk Will Part 2 💦

Will x Short Girlfriend 💘💦

Aftercare Will 💘

My Dearest Will

Part 1 🖤

Part 2 (TBD)

Tom Holland

Blubs:

Silent treatment 💘

The way he looks at you 💘

Smut 💦

Got Me Going Crazy 💘

Headcanons:

Cheeky 💘

#will poulter #will poulter x reader #will poulter smut #will poulter imagine #tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #will poulter x you #will poulter blurb #will poulter headcannons #tom holland headcannons #masterlist

[kidney9-9]

Perfect Girl - Tom Holland

Hi guys, here's a quick little one shot with Tom. This is based off a chat my friend and I had! I hope you all enjoy, thank you for reading :) Tom Holland x Reader Warnings: Smut, masturbation, breeding, pregnancy kink, and cursing Word Count: 1.1k

-

It started off when he saw you in the grocery store the second time around. You worked there, and he only noticed you when he was in your check out line the second time. You smiled at him as he put the items down on the row. He smiled back momentarily then went back to putting things onto the row.

“Welcome, I hope you found everything alright. Is there anything else you needed?” You ask softly, your voice barely heard over the sound of chatting around the store. He stared at you, surprised at your beauty.

He shrugged back, “Oh, I wouldn’t mind a pack of gum, it’s the one behind you.” He pointed to the gum, and it was barely visible, just right near the ground so he watched as you leaned down and grabbed one of the packages.

“Wrong one, it’s the one next to it.” He spoke up, watching you grab another as his eyes drifted.

He really didn’t mean to. He swore he didn’t mean to. But he started to check out your ass, as you were down there.

And then he noticed it. The little tattoo on your backside, as your shirt rolled up when you were down there.

Fuck.

Both your ass and tattoo was so hot. He felt himself blush slightly as you accidently wiggled your ass, making him wonder what it would be like to grab it. He could feel his cock stir a bit, and he shifted in his stance, thinking, not now…

“This one?” You asked, lifting up the package and he nodded absentmindedly, still staring at your ass. You noticed when you stood up and a faint smile appeared on your lips, thinking it was funny.

“Is that all, sir?” You spoke up, rounding out the last word, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Hm, yeah, uh, what’s your name?” He asked, wondering since he’s seen you before.

You grinned as you pointed to your name tag attached to your shirt that was over your breast. He gulped at it, appearing redder than before.

“Got it, mind if I call you something else, though?”  He grinned back at you, trying to up his game and actually flirt with you instead of just gawking at you.

“Mm, sure thing, what do you want to call me?” You responded, tilting your head at him.

“How about darling? You seem like one to me.” He flirted with you, eyes wandering down your body this time, really checking your body out slowly. Fuck, he thought. You were gorgeous, how hadn’t he realized the first time around?

“Sure, you can call me that, handsome.” You flirted right back, and he smiled even more, knowing you found him attractive. He quickly pulled out his business card and handed it to you, pointing to the second number on the little sheet.

Before he could hand it to you though, you spoke up, “Hey, uh, just so you know and don’t get creeped out, I’m a mom and uh, still married but we’re separated.” Your voice was so sweet.

He blinked in surprise but nodded, feeling his cock start to harden. Shit, you’re perfect! You’re a mother! He thought, and then groaned quietly enough that you didn’t hear him. He stared down at your body, noticing your wide hips, oh so perfect to carry a baby…

He gulped as he realized that you were the perfect girl for him. You were so perfect, just all for him. He couldn’t help but wonder what you would look like full of his cum and belly with his baby. He shifted again, hand going down to cover his erection by putting his hand in his pocket.

“That’s okay, darling. Perfect, actually.” He said, then continued, “Here’s my personal number, call it anytime.” He said, watching as you took it into your hands. You laughed slightly and put it in your pocket, nodding to him.

“Got it, and your total is $98.07.” You said, nodding towards the groceries.

-

He couldn’t stop thinking about you after he left. He quickly put away his groceries in his apartment and went to his bedroom, laying down on his bed without his pants on. He pulled his dick out of his boxers and sighed as he pressed his hand onto his dick.

“Fucking finally…” He muttered, wrapping his hand around his cock, and pressing his thumb at the top of tip, smearing the pre-cum down around his dick.

He groaned as he thrusted up into his hand, slowly gripping harder around his cock, then he started to imagine you.

“Y/n…ahhhh, darling, fuck.” He moaned, closing his eyes as he thought about undressing you and putting you up on the desk you worked at as the cashier. He could see your bra, and he unhooked it quickly as he pressed a kiss on your shoulder.

Then he pulled the bra off, kisses moving down to your exposed breasts. They’d be plump with milk, full from your past pregnancy with him. He pumped his hand up and down his cock as he thought about how pretty you’d be, sitting there and waiting for him to do the next move.

He groaned as he imagined the noises that would come out of you, “Tom, please, fuck me! Fuck a baby into me!” You’d beg him and he’s having to agree to your demands because of how fucking adorable and pretty you sounded, just pleading him for his dick.

He’d pull of your skirt or rip it off, depending on how greedy he was feeling, and he’d press his face up into your heat, smelling you before he licks your wet cunt. Ohh, how good it would taste, and how fucking wet you would be, dripping down onto his tongue as he licked you up and down.

He’d suck on your clit, hard and fast, making you moan out his name again and your thighs would crush around his head, leaving him to only lick you more. He’d slip a hand up underneath his chin and push a finger into your vagina as he tongued you deeply.

“Baby, you taste amazing.” He would mumble into your flesh, kissing you on your clit as he pulled away and pushed another finger into you, curling his fingers up.

“I need you, Tom. Give me a baby, please.” You’d say, and finally he’d pull out his cock and plunge it deeply into you. He’d go so slow, and you’d beg him to go harder and faster.

“Finally.” He’d pant, and you two would fuck.

Just as he finished, his imagination had him finishing deep into you and pulling out, with you moaning for more.

He panted in real life, sighing as he wiped his hand on his thigh, getting his cum everywhere. He looked down at himself and shook his head at the mess.

Just as he was sitting up, his phone dinged, and it was a message from an unknown number. He picked it up and smiled brightly, realizing it was you.

Perfect.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #thank you for reading! #tom holland

[novel-professionals]

Hey nerds. Here are some our favorite Marvel headcanons we came up together!

Today we start off with our favorite boys.

These headcanons are SFW/NSFW so minors do not interact please.

Last thing, our ask box is open for requests for your favorite Marvel babes.

Enby/Fem readers.

Wade Wilson - Deadpool @hopperswhoreee

He’s an ass man

He is pan, he does not care who his partner is

Average size dick, I’d say between 6-7 inches

Man loves to go down on his partner, he’ll bury his head between their thighs until they’re screaming his name, and he’ll just keep going

He has an oral fixation. He’s always got something in his mouth, especially if he’s trying to concentrate on something

He loves aftercare. If you’re not careful he’ll rush through sex just for the aftercare because man is obsessed with his partner and loves hearing giggles and smiles and dimples and the way his partner’s eyes crinkle when they smile and he knows it’s just for him

A whore for a partner to be on top but uses it as an excuse to be a power bottom.

Loves lazy days eating shitty microwaved burritos and chimichangas and watching movies with his partner in matching pajama bottoms.

The crocs stay on. That's it.

Pain kink, he is an ass man remember?, he will smack it a lot… A lot, a lot.

Sit on his face

Loves to be handsy, especially in public as well so expect a lot of grazes on the butt and soft touches against the small of your back.

Wade is a softie for cheesy ass romcoms, he would know lines word for word.

Dancing to Wham! In your underwear with him.

Roleplay sex, Wade likes trying to do different things like pretending he is a pizza delivery man with his dick in the box. What? Wade is a dirty man, he is going to be lewd. You signed up for his shit.

Peter Parker - Spiderman (Tom Holland, and we are writing if his Peter was in his 20s/College times) @grinnincheshire

Boring straight boy, but up for threesomes if his partner asks

People pleaser translates to the bedroom

PRAISE KINK

Also maybe a small bondage thing…webs? Yes please

He loves cozy Saturday’s on the couch with his partner, legs tangled up, maybe Star Wars on the TV but he’s quoting the movies word for word. Sometimes he gets up and forces his partner to reenact the scenes with him because he’s such a giant nerd and his partner can never say no because the smile that’s on his face and the pleading eyes sucker anyone in

He’s obsessed with coffee and Starbucks and small coffee shops. He loves the atmosphere but he loves the smell the most. He hasn’t figured out how to get his apartment to smell like coffee yet and last, but he knows he will

He loves farmers markets, especially if he and his partner go on vacation to some small town in the middle of nowhere. He loves the energy that they create and how it feels like such a strange atmosphere for him but it feels cozy

Can be a soft Dom sometimes especially if jealous, but he loves when his partner takes more control.

He is going to have to get used to you stealing his clothes, especially the sweatshirts.

Webs for sexy time? Sure thing.

His partner riding him, he loves staring and watching their breasts bouncing up and down as they move their hips.

That man can get off but just trying to keep you please, and ruin his boxers for you.

Clumsy in bed, he is a flustering mess.

Expect you two building lego sets while watching nerdy movies with bottles of wine of course.

Peter tries his best to remember things, but he is forgetful and when it comes to forgetting something between the two of you like a major date, anniversary, etc... Expect a lot of kissing ass and him coming home to you with flowers that are all messed up from him swinging his way to you.

#marvel #marvel headcanons #mcufam #anything marvel related #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #tom!peter x reader #tom!spiderman #tom!peter x reader smut #wade wilson #deadpool #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader smut #deadpool x reader smut #spiderman x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu phase 4 #mcu headcanons

[littlemissomega]

Key: ♤= smut | ♡=fluff | ◇= dark ^=personal favorites | *=top/most likes

[Last updated: 10/01/2023

HoneyMoon Hell ♤♡

Sensory processing disorder reader! x Tom Holland

Summary: Morning wake up call gone wrong

Warnings: smut, sensory meltdown, aftercare, Tom being a perfect hubby

•••

Big Girl Thoughts ♤*

mommy!wanda maximoff x reader

Summary: Wanda just can't get enough of her baby

Warnings: Overstimulation, smut, mommy kink, Wanda being condesending, degrading

∙∙∙

How Would They Know? ♤♡

mommy!natasha romanoff x reader

Summary: Y/N and Natasha go out for dinner, but Natasha has an idea to mix it up

Warnings: overstimulation, mommy kink, public sex, bathroom sex, pet names, degrading, aftercare, etc

Word Count: 3405

●●●

Series: Meeting the Coworkers ♤♡^

Steve Rogers x Y/N x peter parker , wanda maximoff x bucky barnes x natasha romanoff

Summary: Steve has been transparent about his polyamorous relationship with some of his Coworkers since he started dating Y/N, but she was never interested. Until she became curious with that part of Steve's life and asks to meet the gang, but just one at a time. Things get heated and Y/N discovers a whole new side of herself

Part 1: Meeting Peter Parker

•••

Dios Mio♤♡

peter parker x tony stark's daughter!reader

Summary: Peter and Y/N get caught in the act by her dad- Tony Stark

Warnings: smut, oral (f recieving) orgasum denial if you squint, Tony Stark being an overprotective dad, getting caught in the act, embarrassment, mention of getting pregnant, mention of marriage,

•••

Cravings ♤♡

Natasha romanoff x pregnant! reader

Summary: natashas 's wife wakes up with intense pregnancy cravings

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, pregnancy, pregnancy cravings, strap on, hypersensitive, nipple play, aftercare, pet names, Russian pet names

•••

Viral ♤

Pornstar!Natasha romanoff x influencer!reader

Summary: Y/N's followers dare her to call Natasha 'Mommy' on camera

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, strap used, overstimulation, Mommy kink, video sex, live stream sex, cussing, pet names (bunny, luv, luvie, baby, babygirl, etc), praise kink, degradation kink, Y/N says “it hurt” (nothing is physically hurting her tho), bad writing

•••

Principessa ◇♤

dark!mafia!bucky barnes x innocent!reader

Warnings: smut, non con, kidnapping, mafia leader Bucky, housewife kink, degrading kink, non consensual use of a vibrator, overstimulation, bondage, crying, innocence kink, squirting, virgin reader, Bucky’s kinda sick but it’s also kinda hot 👀

Summary: Y/N's trip to Italy turns dark

•••

Conflict of Interest ♤

dom!Natasha x needy!reader

Warnings: edging, overstimulation, Y/N falls deep into subspace, praise kink, use of a vibrator, Y/N’s insecure thoughts, use of a strap, allusion to aftercare, but not actually written

Summary: Y/N is very needy while Natasha is working

•••

Malyshka♤^

alpha!Wanda x omega!reader

Summary: Y/N joins the Avengers thinking she’ll be able to hide being an omega. Wanda bursts her bubble.

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, mating, biting, penetration, omega heat, fingering, knotting, pet names (malyshka, baby, luv, luvie), Bucky’s an asshole, a kinda maybe spark better Bucky (I can’t write fight scene without banter), scenting, scent blockers

•••

Hungry ♤♡

alpha!Rhyand x omega!reader

Summary: Rhysand finds a way to make his mate eat during her heat

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, teasing, mating, reader not wanting to eat but Rhys convincing her too, bargaining, heat and rut, overstimulation, mention of biting/marking, breeding kink, pet names (Alpha, Omega, little dove, baby), wing play/stimulation, food play if you squint, bad writing, not proof read

•••

Chronically ill Reader:

I'm Here ♡

steve rogers x endometriosis!reader

Summary: Steve Roger's girlfriend has endometriosis and gets her period

Warnings: chronic pain, reader has endometriosis which causes extremely painful periods, reader gets her period, throwing up, crying, little suggestive but not really (Y/N thinks Steve is gonna do something sexual for a second, but he doesn't)

•••

How Low Can You Go? ♡

Diabetic!reader x Stucky

Summary: reader’s blood sugar drops in the middle of the night

Warnings: Dangerously low blood sugar, low blood sugar symptoms (head racing, shaky, brain fog), crying, blood, mention of glucose tablets (which is kinda a medication? It helps get your blood sugar up), orange juice, fluff, pet names (Ladybug, princess, sweetie, honey, etc)

Short and sweet enough to give your hyperglycemia (high blood sugar)

•••

Coming soon

Meeting the CoWorkers Part 2: Meeting Wanda

Bare: dom!rhysand x reader

Principessa Part 2

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

Comment any emoji on this post to get added to my taglist! I'm not the best at remembering, but I try! <3

All banners are by @cafekitsune <3

#LittleMissOmega #LittleMissOmega's og writing #chronically ill!reader #chronic illness #steve rogers smut #smut prompts #dark!stucky smut #dom!tom holland smut #smut #overstimulation kink #omega heat #tw overstimulation #marvel smut #diabetic!reader x steve #diabetes #diabetic #diabetic!reader #type 1 diabetes #18+ #mommy!wanda smut #mommy!wanda #mommy!natasha smut #dom!stucky smut #dom! smut #dom!bucky x virgin!reader

[fatlover-12]

Enjoy some fatty josh hutcherson and tom holland pt1.

#obese men #hotfatboys #belly kink #fat admirer #fat art #fat gainers #fat male art #growing belly #stuffing #weight gain #tom holland #josh hutcherson

[alipal97]

hey could you please do something with Dom Tom Holland and the sub reader has a hand and size fetish and loves toms hands and that he is so much bigger and stronger than her. Tom loves it and it makes him feel really powerful and like her daddy so he makes her suck him off then fucks her silly

Yes I can😊 hope this is what you were asking for. I’m still kinda new to requests but I hope you enjoy!

Pretty Little Necklace

Pairings: Dom!Tom Holland x Sub!reader

Summary: Tom takes you with to his red carpet event but even with everything going on around you you can only focus on his hands and what they would look like wrapped around your throat

Warnings: Dom/sub, hand fetish, public sex, daddy kink, spanking, oral(male receiving), rough sex, after care, swearing, choking

Red carpet events are the worst. Not only because you had to squeeze yourself into a gown and heels for the night, your hair pinned up and some deep red lips framing your overly white smile. No. Your torture came in a different form. Hands. Specifically Tom’s hands.

Maybe it was the new shiny gold band on his finger that matched yours. Or the veins that were just visible as he waved his hands around talking to an interviewer. No matter what the reason was you loved them and you loved how he used them on you. You loved the way he would fix his cuff links as the paparazzi snapped picture after picture, or how he would wave them around as he talked to interviewers and costars. But what you loved most was the way he would wrap his strong digits around your neck cutting off your oxygen supply as he fucked you into the mattress, leaving bruises to cover up in the following days.

The thought alone made your pussy throb and your thighs clench together, the latter not going unnoticed by Tom. His arm became tighter around your waist as he dipped his head, cameras flashing furiously, and whispered in your ear.

“Behave and maybe Daddy will reward you later.” He spoke in a husky tone, his hot breath tickling your neck as he placed a quick kiss to your pulse point. He easily slipped back into the role of Hollywood’s golden boy, smiling at the cameras as you went weak in the knees. You placed a hand on his chest not knowing if you could stand on your own. Tom breezed through the rest of the photos and interviews, all the while you tried to compose yourself, and failed miserably. God you were going to make a fool out of yourself if you didn’t get what you needed.

“Thank you all so much!” He yelled out to the crowd, waving at his fans as he began ti lead you inside. As you walked, the hand on the small of your back drifted lower until it barely grazed your ass. Your breath hitched and your skin flushed from the slight contact.

“I need to use the restroom.” You whispered as you made your way towards the ladies room. You burst through the door, glad to find it empty as you placed your hands on the counter and closed your eyes. You tried to focus on anything but Tom and his glorious hands and how it would feel to have one around your throat and the other down your lacy panties as he curled his fingers inside you.

You were so distracted by the thoughts inside your head you hadn’t even heard the door open before someone shut it and locked it behind them. You hadn’t realized Tom followed you into the bathroom until he was pulling you against him, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other going directly to your throat.

“Look at you, love. What’s got you so bothered? Hmm?” He asked as he raised your head to look at him through the mirror. His eyes had darkened to the point you couldn’t see a hint of his chocolate brown irises. When you didn’t answer he tightened his grip on your throat, causing you to gasp and close your eyes. “Answer me.” He growled in your ear and pressed himself against you harder. You were pleased to feel him already straining against his suit pants.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his in the mirror. “You.” You whispered, your voice dripping with need.

“What about me, darling?” He pushed himself into you again and you sighed in relief from the small amount of friction.

“Your hands.” You gulped, trying to form coherent words through your lusty haze.

“Hmm. Anything else?” He was smirking now. Cocky bastard.

“Your hands.” You repeated before adding, “Your fingers and the way you curl them inside me making me cum all over them before you fuck me until I can’t breathe.”

“Is that what you want? You want me to choke you and fuck you with my fingers until you’re seeing stars?” His hips rutted into you once more and you arched your back pressing your round ass into his crotch. “Oh fuck-“ he closed his eyes for a second his head dropping to your shoulder as the feeling of you against him. In a split second he had you spun around and sinking to your knees as he began to undo his belt. “You’ve been a good girl but you still need to earn it.”

“What do you want me to do, Daddy?” You as him even though it was obvious as he freed himself from his pants, his cock slapping up against his stomach. You looked up at him through your long eyelashes, waiting for an answer.

He growled and grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your hair back before bending at the waist and placed a bruising kiss to your lips. “You’re going to suck me off and then I’m going to ruin that tight little pussy of yours.” He yanked your head back towards his crotch and waited.

You took his impressive length in your hand running your manicured hand up and down, stroking him before sticking out your tongue and licked a stripe from base to tip. His tip was red and dripping with precum as you took him into your mouth, starting off slow. A sigh escaped Tom’s lips as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and you hollowed out your cheeks. His hips rutted forward making you gag around him slightly.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned. He guided your head, working himself into your mouth as he picked up speed. He looked down at you, mouth stuffed with his cock, lip stick smeared and drool running down your chin. You were a sight to behold and he didn’t know how much longer he would last with you looking like you did, sucking his cock like you were. He could feel himself getting close but he refused to finish in your mouth. No, he had other plans for that. He pulled you off of him with a pop and pulled you back up to your feet. He wiped the tears from the corner of your eyes before spinning you around and pressed your front to the hard granite counter.

“Are you wet for me?” Tom asked as he slipped his hands beneath your dress, fingers dipping into your lacy underwear. “Always so responsive.” He groaned as he slid his fingers through your wet folds, his thumb begging to circle your clit. He dipped two large fingers into your center and you gasped, hands gripping the counter in front of you.

“Oh god, Tom.” You moaned out, closing your eyes.

Tom stopped his movements, fingers still knuckle deep inside you. “What’s my name?” He asked threateningly.

You whimpered, trying to move your hips to grind yourself against his hand but the firm grip on your waist stopped you. “Daddy, please.” You whined.

His fingers started their sinful ministrations once again. “That’s my good girl. Are you going to cum on my fingers?” You nodded your head, afraid if you opened your mouth a loud moan would escape and the people outside would hear exactly what was going on inside the bathroom. The knot in your stomach was working itself tighter and tighter and you didn’t know how much longer you would last, but you knew better than to cum without permission.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum all over my fingers. Show me how good I make you feel.” And with that the band snapped and you were clenching around his fingers, hand covering your own mouth to keep from making too much noise. Tom slowed his thrusts but didn’t stop until he had worked you through your orgasm and your body relaxed.

Tom gave you no time to recover before he hiked your dress up, material bunched up in his fist as he pulled your panties to the side and began to slide his thick head through your folds.

“Please.” You whined, needing him inside you stretching you out.

“Please what, pretty girl?” He asked, a slight sheen of sweat collect on his forehead as he tried to restrain himself. He needed you to answer quickly because he could feel his self control slipping so he delivered a harsh slap to your ass that had you gasping and biting your lip.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You moaned out, loving the friction from his head bumping into your bundle of nerves but it wasn’t enough. “Need you to fuck me and fill me up.”

Tom wasted no time slamming into you stretching you out fully as he bottomed out. A groan slipped past his lips at the feel of your velvety walls pulling him in. He began to move not being able to hold still any longer.

“You’re so tight. Fuck- I’m going to fuck this pretty little pussy until you can’t think straight.” You moaned out at the filthy words leaving his lips.

Tom reached around and began to run fast circles over your bundle of nerves and it wasn’t long before you were once again climbing to another sweet release.

“Are you close? I can feel you gripping me, love.” You could no longer form coherent thoughts or words thanks to his harsh thrusts so you nodded your head and bit your lip to suppress another moan. Tom’s fingers found their way into your hair, gripping the strands and yanked your head back as he continued to pound into you from behind.

“Open your eyes, darling. I want you to watch yourself as you cum around my cock.” Your eyes fluttered open and you took in your reflection. You looked completely fucked out. After all the hours of work spent on hair and makeup you and Tom had managed to ruin it in no less than twenty minutes. Your mascara was smeared, tears running down from the corner of your eyes due to overstimulation, and lipstick was smeared along the corners of your mouth.

Tom increased the pressure on your clit and angled his hips to drive into you even deeper than before. You ran your hands along the counter searching for anything to grip onto. The knot in your lower stomach was growing tighter and tighter and with a few more expert thrusts you were cumming.

“Oh fuck, Tom, FUCK!” You shouted, you were sure that someone has heard you now as the knob to the door begins to jiggle and there is a light knock but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“That’s my good girl. You did so well-fuck- I’m gonna cum.” Tom’s thrusts became sloppy before he buried himself to the hilt and coated your walls with a final moan.

He pulled out and grabbed a paper towel and cleaned you up before pulling your dress back down and placing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. You took the time to fix your hair and makeup and look halfway decent once more as Tom tucked himself away and fixed his suit. “We should probably get back before anyone notices we’re missing.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips and forehead before grabbing your hand and leading you to the door.

Tom unlocked the door and nearly ran straight into Zendaya who’s hand was raised to knock on the door. It took her a second to realize what she was seeing but when she did she rolled her eyes at the two of you.

“Seriously?! I’ve been looking for you two for forever and you’ve been having sex in the bathroom? You guys seriously can’t keep your hands to yourself for a few hours can you?” She scolded the two of you with her arms crossed.

“Sorry, Daya.” You spoke sheepishly, unlike Tom who looked smug, you had the decency to at least act ashamed.

Zendaya’s shoulders dropped and she smiled taking your hand and pulling you back to the bathroom. “Let’s get you fixed up, you’re a mess.”

You turned to look at Tom who gave you a tap on the ass and sent you a sly wink.

“I’ll see you in a bit, darling.”

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader

[waratah-moon]

Masterlist

Requests are ✨OPEN✨

STRANGER THINGS

EDDIE MUNSON Fics linked under AUs are in correct timeline order (not super important but im pedantic)

!Reader/AU aesthetics

Henderson!Reader Roll for Persuasion ♡ wc 7k Roll for Deception (coming soon)

Dad!Eddie (read more blurbs and works here) - Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic (coming soon) - Grocery Store - Gremlin wc 5.1k / bonus smutty drabble ♡ - I Think We're Alone Now wc 3.7k ♡ Gremlin add on - Swear Jar - Wanna have sex? wc 2.5k ♡

Cheerleader!reader (read all works here) - Stay the night? - Can you come and get me? - Don't kink shame me ♡ - White Lace, Dark Denim wc 2.8k ♡ - Can I stay over tonight? - Have you seen my jacket? - You're lucky you're hot

Modern!Eddie - Super Like / part 2 / part 3 - Am I your lockscreen?

Rockstar!Eddie x Famous!Reader - I'm gonna marry you one day - You're an idiot NEW! - America's Sweetheart ♡ - untitled* ♡

You're adorable when you ramble (Eddie x tutor!reader)

STEVE HARRINGTON Christmas Eve (Dad!Steve) Idiot in Love (Co-worker!Steve) Super Like (Modern!Steve SMAU) Well this is awkward (different Co-worker!Steve) Untitled* (Ex!Nurse!Steve)

CELEBRITIES / RPF

JOSEPH QUINN Untitled two parter* (Best friend!Joe) In the middle of the night (Co-star!Joe) My mum asked about you again (Ex!Joe)

Young Rhaenyra (HOTD x reader SMAU) Black Cat and The Dragon (Matt Smith x famous!reader SMAU)

Early Christmas Present (Tom Holland x reader) Stan Behaviour (Tom Holland x famous!reader)

Also writing for Joe Keery

join my tag list / find me on ao3 / old masterlist

*in the drafts, coming soon ♡ smut blurbs/drabbles in italics <2k

#maggie writes #masterlist #navigation #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #matt smith x you #tom holland x you

[shellshocklove]

blurb: i want to forget | tom holland

pairing/AU: university AU - modern king!tom holland x female!reader

summary: your last encounter with the King has left you in quite the pickle.

warnings: swearing, mentions of vomiting, abortion, blood

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is the last post-epilogue blurb. this is their ending. it makes me really happy that people have enjoyed this story so much. like beyond happy:( i’m still open to do blurbs pre-epilogue for them, but i’ll only do them if i get a request. if not this will be the last thing i write for them. also full disclosure: i’m not british, which means idk if this is accurate portrayal of a british school. so, if it’s not, then please excuse that lmao

series masterlist

You’re so fucking stupid.

So incredibly stupid.

A cold crept up your back as you leaned against the tiled wall of your bathroom. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to stave off the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You shouldn’t have gone to the reunion. But when The Vice-Chancellor of your old university calls you personally, basically begging you to attend – what were you supposed to do? And you definitely shouldn’t have drunk so much wine, but the servers kept pouring it, and every time you’d looked at Tom, he’d looked a little rosier.

You missed him. Missed him every day. The painful look on his face as you’d left the palace, right after he became king, haunted you every day. You hated being the one to hurt him. But he hurt you, too.

Why did he have to want to see you? Make someone else beg you to be there. And why did you say yes? Why did you need to see him just as badly?

“Soo,” Tom had started, digging into his scallop entrée, “how’s life?”.

You’d giggled in response, sending him a ‘Are you serious right now?’ look, before taking a bite of your own entrée.

“What?” he’d faked innocence, “I’m only making conversation– can’t I do that?” he’d shrugged.

You’d giggled again, “No, you can”. You took another bite, buying yourself some time before you’d answered, “Life’s good, I guess? No complaints at this point in time”. Except the constant longing for someone you can’t have.

“At this point in time? So… there was a time where you had complaints?” he’d queried, with a worried kink in his eyebrow.

“Don’t we all have difficult periods in our life?” you’d mused, trying to keep your face from revealing too much. He didn’t need to know how heartbroken you’d been after his wedding. He’d moved on… and so should you.

“Yeah…” he’d agreed, eyes drilling into his plate, “we do”.

You’d felt your body fall at his tone. He’d given you a rare peek into his psyche. A look into a beaten king.

“What about you?” you’d asked softly, “You doing okay?”. You’d wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him, but you didn’t.

A weak smile spread across his face before he’d nodded, “Yeah… I’m fine” he’d said unconvincingly. Then he’d cleared his throat changing the topic before the conversation got too personal,

“Are you still working at that primary school?”.

“No,” you’d shook your head, “I teach sixth form now– history A-levels”.

“Really?” he’d perked up, a smile ghosting over his face.

“Yeah,” you’d chuckled, “shaping the future or whatever”.

“Good for you, darling!” he’d smiled with moony eyes, “Do you like it?”.

“I actually do– teenagers can be…” you’d given him a look which made him laugh, “but the pay is better, and maybe it’s silly, but I really feel like I’m making a difference!”.

“It’s not silly– you’re not silly” he’d reassured you.

You’d felt your heart swell in your chest and grow two sizes. He had to stop doing that to you. You shouldn’t be pining for a married man.

“Well…” you’d started, tongue kissing your teeth, “We can’t all be kings and run multiple charities” you’d shrugged, teasing.

Your words made him giggle, before he’d shot you a teasing side eye.

You hated how easy you’d gotten swept up in conversation with Tom. How easy it was to forget everything around you. The world blurring at the edges like a vignette, as Tom took centrefold in your life again.

It had felt like it did all those years ago. An ease between you, one you’ve never felt with anyone else. He pulled away all your restraints – and you let him. How could you not? When his touch felt like buzzing electricity against your skin. And his kiss burned your lips with longing. Everything felt right with him. Every worry, and all guilt went quiet.

And you hated yourself for it. It was eating away at you. Growing inside of you alongside something else.

Two lines. Pregnant.

You couldn’t even look at the test. It only made you want to cry. You were pregnant with the King of England’s baby. How could you be so stupid?

You couldn’t stop the scenarios from flashing behind your eyes. Tom standing over a crib, a loving smile on his face as he watched over your sleeping baby. Or Tom with his hands reaching out to your toddler taking their first wobbling steps towards him. Birthday parties and first days of school. Holidays and road trips. Fights, and first loves and first heartbreaks. Growing your family and growing old together.

Wrapping your hands around your stomach you allowed a sob to escape you, echoing against the tiles.

“Love? You feeling okay? You look a little green” Mr. Khan asked you as he plopped down beside you in the corner sofa of the teacher’s lounge.

“I feel a little green” you admitted and sunk deeper into the pillows.

Morning sickness, you’d realised, had been wrongly named. It should’ve just been called sickness because that’s how you felt all the time. Sick. Morning, day, and night.

If your calculations were right, you were only about two months along. To have it confirmed, you had a doctor’s appointment later, after your last class of the day. You didn’t look forward to it. You obviously needed an abortion, sooner rather than later, but it was an awfully hard decision to make.

Maybe it serves you right to suffer. This was the consequences of your actions. Of being the other woman.

In a way, you wanted and didn’t want Tom to know. He should know about his baby, his child – it’s only right he knows. But… how would he react? Would he be happy? Sad? Angry? Would he blame you for being irresponsible? Would he blame himself? Your head and heart hurt thinking about it. But the choice was taken from you, and from him. You had no way of contacting him. No phone number, no email, nothing.

“Want me to get you anything?” Rhys asked, rubbing a friendly hand on your shoulder, “I could get you a Coke from the machine?”.

“That would be great– thank you Rhys!” you smiled weakly.

Mr. Rhys Khan, maths teacher, and probably your best friend at work (or maybe just your only friend. You didn’t go out much). He was only two years older than you, which made him easy for you to gravitate too when you’d started working here a year ago. The rest of the staff was pushing fifty, and sometimes it was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t a moody teenager, or a middle-aged man educating you on proper lawn maintenance. You didn’t even own a house. Only renting a shitty flat, in what would probably be classified as a not so good neighbourhood. Rhys was a welcomed sight, and it didn’t hurt that he was funny, and kind, and… good looking.

“Here you go M'lady” he cracked open the can for you, “One of our finest Cokes straight from our cellar”.

You didn’t think you had it in you to laugh in your state, but you did. He handed you the can and sat down beside you again. He watched you as you took a small sip.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“After one sip?”

“Yeah! I cast a spell over it on my way back– it’s supposed to make you feel better in an instant” he said.

“Thank you, Rhys!” you gave him a meek, but grateful smile before taking another sip. His hand came down to rub at your shoulder again.

“Are you sure you’re okay though? As beautiful as you are, you really don’t look well” he said, concern coating his words.

You didn’t have time to answer – your words cut off by the headmaster, Mr. White, entering the teacher’s lounge with a booming voice.

“Thank you all for coming to this lunch meeting!” he clapped his hands, making sure to get everybody’s attention. “I’m gonna keep it short and sweet, ok guys!? I know we all have lunches to eat, and emails to reply to, and classes to prepare.”.

This man was too enthusiastic for his own good.

“I have an announcement!” he said solemnly. Pressing his lips together you didn’t know if he wanted to create suspense – he didn’t – or if he was psyching himself up to deliver bad news.

“I’ve called this meeting to inform you all that next week we’ll be visited by the King and Queen!”

The news sunk like a stone in water. You were gonna be sick. Nervously you shifted forward in your seat. A hand wrapping around your waist, as the other held your Coke can in a shaky grip.

“They’re here with their charity– who we all know contributes funds to our school. There will be press, and the royal couple wants to visit every class– so let’s all make sure that we’ve prepared our pupils for the visit, before then. I will be sending out an email with more information, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions! That was it guys! Let’s get back to our lunch!”.

You flinched as Mr. White clapped his hands again – signalling all his staff to get back to work. Rhys rubbed your back soothingly. Unaware of your panicked heart.

You were definitely going to be sick.

“Good morning, everybody!” your voice cut through the steady hum of conversation filling the classroom.

You got a few ‘good morning’s back from your pupils, which you honestly looked at as a win. Some days you didn’t even get a ‘hello’. But it was early, and they were teenagers – when you looked back at yourself at seventeen – you were glad you’d never be seventeen again. So, you gave them a pass.

As your pupils settled in their seats you got your computer ready with today’s PowerPoint.

“As you all know,” you started, taking a deep breath, “We have some very special guests coming later. A royal visit. That means that the rest of the day will be a little different, and after lunch you’re all free to go home”.

The promise of school being out, got a few cheers. It made you chuckle before you clicked to the next slide on your presentation, showing the plan for the day.

“We started working through our curriculum on the British monarchy a few weeks ago, you guys remember we talked about Queen Victoria last week?” you got a few nods.

“Anyone remember how long her reign was?” you asked, looking at your half-asleep pupils.

In the front, a hand shot up in the air. It was Louis. He was kind of a history nerd, and your most devoted pupil. He got picked on by the others a lot and you tried your best to look out for him a little extra.

“Yes, Louis?”

“Sixty-three years, seven months and two days” he answered dutifully.

In the back of the classroom, you heard a snicker. You decided to ignore it for now.

“That’s right, Louis! And her reign is known as the Victorian era. She became queen when she was very young! She was only eighteen years old– can you guys imagine that? She was only a year older than you are now. She has that in common with our king– King Thomas. He was only twenty-four when he became king” you tried to keep your face neutral when you talked about him, but it was hard. It felt weird talking about him like you didn’t know him, not when you were carrying his baby in your belly.

“Ms. y/l/n” a hand shot up in the back. It was Fatima.

“Yes, Fatima?”

“Why do we need to be visited by the king and queen? They’re colonisers and I don’t understand why we’re celebrating them!?” she said.

“That’s very true, Fatima! Great point– and we’ll be talking more about this topic next week…” you paused for a second before you continued, “To be completely honest with you– the reason they’re here today is because one of their charities supports our school. It’s because of money, like so much else in this world. I understand your concern– I really do, but there’s nothing I can do about it unfortunately”.

“So, even if we don’t want to meet them– we have to?” she countered.

You stepped around your desk to lean against it. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything– I completely understand wanting to not meet them” you understood more than anything actually, “but I can’t promise the same from Mr. White” you gave her a beaten smile.

“That is such bullshit!” she said.

You stepped back behind your desk, “That is very true, Fatima!”.

You continued going through the plan for the day, trying your best to tie what you’d already talked about, about the British monarchy, into Tom and the modern monarchy. You quickly went through the etiquette of meeting a member of the royal family (this was extremely important that you go through, according to Mr. White).

“The King and Queen will be arriving soon,” you glanced quickly at the clock over the door, “then we’ll all gather in the auditorium where the King will be holding a speech, and then after that we’ll all go back here, and they’ll visit each class. I’m not sure what they’ll do– but I’m guessing they’ll greet you all, and ask you guys a few questions, and maybe answer some if you have them. After that you can all go home for the day. That sound alright?” you finished.

You got a few nods.

“Okay, then– let’s clean up in here and walk together to the auditorium”

Leaning back against the wall, standing on the stairs of your school’s auditorium, reality hit you.

Your stomach actually hurt. Nerves travelled through you like electricity all the way to your fingertips. You were sure that if you were unlucky enough, you’d meet the eyes of Queen Genevieve, and she’d know what you’d done. Scared you’d look like a guilty puppy after being caught making a mess.

“You excited?” Mr. Khan said over your shoulder, startling you. He stood on the step above you with a wide grin, teeth bared, as you turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“Would it be treason to say no?” you whispered in his ear.

He laughed, barely noticeable over the high-volumed conversation, “Probably!”.

“What did you say your dad called the monarchy again?” he asked, leaning back against the wall like you did.

“A fascist regime” you recalled, “After the Sex–”.

He cut you off, remembering with a nod, “After the Sex Pistols song”.

“God,” he started, “I would’ve loved to see King Thomas’ face if you told him that” he laughed.

You felt your body freeze to ice at his words. “Wh–What do you mean?” you stuttered out.

“Later, when they’re visiting our classrooms– how do you think he’d react if you told him that” he continued laughing.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you said “Oh… I don’t know– maybe he’d find it refreshing to hear?”.

A memory flicked before your eyes for a second. You and Tom in your room – when he’d visited your flat for the first time. The night you had your first kiss. You knew for a fact he found it refreshing. It was the reason he’d kissed you. You didn’t dare linger on that memory too long. It made your stomach hurt even more. A sharp stabbing pain, moving from your front to your lower back.

It made you wince, and Rhys noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern coating his tongue.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I–I just have a stomach ache” you explained.

“Again? You need to get that checked out, love!”.

You gave him a meek smile. Maybe you should tell him you were pregnant. It wouldn’t matter either way if he knew – you had the date for your abortion scheduled already.

“Settle down, settle down– LIAM! SIT DOWN!” you heard the voice of one of your colleagues. You pushed yourself off the wall, sending Rhys a sorry smile for having your conversation cut short before you joined your colleagues in quieting down your pupils.

A moment later, your heart stopped as you watched him walk through the auditorium door, with his wife on his arm. Beside them, they were escorted by the headmaster Mr. White. The room went quiet immediately.

You leaned back against the wall again beside Rhys, trying to steady yourself. Tom looked as handsome as ever, and you ached. That wound in your heart ripped open again. Instinctively, a hand came down to rest over your belly, soothing both yourself and your baby.

Dragging your eyes away from him, they landed on his wife, Queen Genevieve. She looked stunning. Her hair was perfectly curled, bouncing with every step she took. Her make-up was smooth and spotless. She was wearing the most beautiful dress that fit her perfectly. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d ever seen in you. He’s married to the most perfect woman in the world. Her smile shone like diamonds as she waved to the pupils.

Mr. White escorted them to the front row, where two seats had been picked out just for them. Carefully, Tom helped Queen Genevieve sit. He treated her like she was made of glass, asking her if she was okay, if you read his lips correctly. After her affirmative nod, he stood up straighter and gave a wave to the audience before Mr. White led him up the stairs to the stage.

He waved again as he walked with sure steps to the middle of the stage. He was clad in a light grey suit, still clinging to the end of summer. Slipping a hand inside his jacket, he fished out a stack of cards. He looked happy. His smile pearly white, eyes crinkling.

Another sharp pain stabbed you.

You couldn’t look at him as he started his speech. His voice echoed through the room, but you felt so far away. You pressed your hand a little harder to your belly. You couldn’t hear a single word he said, just his familiar voice. It used to be calming, and it still was. But now guilt bit its sharp teeth in you.

Another sharp pain knifed your lower half, twisting its way to your lower back. Involuntarily, you hunched forward, clinging to yourself.

“y/n? Love?” Rhys whispered beside you, a comforting hand coming down to rest against your back, “What’s going on?”.

He sounded worried – which made you worried.

The pain came with quicker intervals, and you started to find it hard to breathe. Panic washed over you. Hand tightening around yourself, both trying to keep yourself standing upright, but also helping you cling to the reality of the situation.

A tear rolled down your cheek, but not from the pain.

Gathering all your strength you turned your head to look at Tom. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe, somehow, he understood what was happening. His eyes locked with yours in that exact moment.

He stumbled over his words. A mixture of happy recognition, and sadness flicking over his face, which then turned to concern. You shook your head. You don’t know at what. To tell him you’re okay, and not to worry? To tell him that it was over? To tell him your baby is dead?

“y/n!” it was Rhys in your ear, his voice erratic, “You have blood coming down your legs”.

“I–I think I’m having a miscarriage” you stuttered.

He looked at you like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Then he started nodding. Like he was coming up with a plan in his head. He didn’t say a word, only wrapped an arm around you to help you down the stairs. One step at a time.

You felt Tom’s eyes on you, as he struggled through the rest of his speech. Thankfully the lights were dimmed enough to make your shaky exit nothing but an annoying stain in the audience’s side vision.

That was the worst day of your life. And the last time you saw Tom in person. Rhys took you to the emergency room where they confirmed your suspicions. You were having a miscarriage. The rest of the day was like a black hole in your memory, and you were glad. You wanted to forget. The only thing you remembered was Rhys. He never left your side – not even once.

You managed to get the rest of the week off work, both to recover and to mourn. It was strange. Mourning someone you’d already decided not to have.

On the day you’d had your abortion scheduled, flowers got delivered to your flat. It was a big bouquet of white roses. It came with a card. Only two words were spelled out in a handwriting you recognized right away.

“I’m sorry

- T”

You didn’t know what he was apologising for, at the time. For falling in love with you? For getting you pregnant? For your loss? But how could he even know about your loss, and his.

Your answer came a couple of weeks later. A simple news push-notification on your phone.

“ROYAL BABY!” it read.

previous: the reunion |

tags (tagging the i want to forget taglist and a few other people that have shown interest after it was finished): @justapurrcat, @lnmp89, @petrspideyparker, @hollandweather, @userholland, @imawhoreforu, @onepieceya, @sparklingsin, @annathesillyfriend, @mayal0pez, @transparentpsychicempathkid, @fic-rewind, @spideysmb, @the-unknown-fan-girl, @mannien, @moonlightdotmp3, @padlockedhearts, @moniffazictress11, @all4koo, @angelayse, @svechnibrock, @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx, @xxtomspideyxx, @i83andrew, @clockblobber, @fangirlinggalore, @luciwritesstuff, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @lol-just-kidding002, @allywthsr, @captainsbestgal, @readheadwriter, @parkersdahlia, @cosmicryuz, @tomxxxhollandxxx, @the-not-so-silent-back-up​, @rebloggingtheficsilove, @peterdarlingg​, @obsessedprincess​, @alltoowelltom​, @hey-im-bored504​, @storybookholland​, @sadisticsongbird​, @prettyjendeukie​, @marsbars09​, @mixedfandxms​, @ahalliwell5, @t-lostinworlds​

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #prince!tom holland #royal au #uni au #college au #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction