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youandtom2 · 2 years

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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

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frasier-crane-style · 1 year

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I get the feeling that most people’s impression of toxic masculinity--and this is quite possibly deliberate--is men hunting deer and eating red meat and reading books about WW2 and watching Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.

While the opposite of toxic masculinity is men wearing skirts and dancing to pop music and reading Maya Angelou.

So if there’s one thing I hope people take away from this Ezra Miller shittery--besides don’t watch The Flash if you have an ounce of integrity about all that MeToo stuff--is that men can be as effeminate and gay and look as much like Tom Holland as it gets, and still be abusive assholes.

The guy who looks like this and enjoys outdoorsy shit and doing stuff with his hands can still treat the people around him with respect and compassion... why wouldn’t he?

While the guy who looks like this can be a fucking terrorist.

So, y’know, maybe we shouldn’t treat femininity like a virtue and masculinity like a vice. They’re not. They’re just two ways people can express themselves.

#toxic masculinity #ezra miller #the flash

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chalametluvrz · 9 months

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eating you out

tom holland x afab!reader

he might not look like it, but, for the love of god he is perfect at eating pussy. this guy fr never misses.

tom’s tongue would work absolute wonders, making you come in minutes of being in that holy region because of how stimulated he makes you feel.

it’s an absolute promise that he’s gonna make you cum at least a few times before getting into anything else.

and boy, does he love doing it. it’s such a big ego boost to him that he’s able to make you cum and is able to make you feel that good with just his tongue.

pussy slapping ftw!!! randomly in the middle of eating you out, he’ll give your pussy a few slaps because he loves the small yelps that come out of your mouth.

can and will eat you out whenever, and wherever. there’s never a point where he doesn’t want to.

don’t ever ask him to do 69 because he will automatically say no; in absolutely no way will he do that, because when he’s eating you out, all his attention must be on you and he doesn’t wanna risk getting distracted by your “pretty mouth.”

definitely the kind of guy to pull you off in a public space to a toilet, sit you on the counter, spread your legs and delve into your pussy. nothing makes him hornier.

teasing, teasing, and more teasing. he can actually be such an ass when it comes to teasing. you’ll be there, waiting eagerly for nothing more than his mouth and this fucker will just be dancing his lips around your thighs rather than being exactly where you need him.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #smut #imagine #tom holland scenario #peter parker scenario #scenario

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lnfours · 1 month

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⋆˙⟡ the toms-gf era

key: [ ☆ smut | ♡ fluff | ✧ angst ]

tom holland

nonsense ♡ birthday ♡ sundays ♡ the way i loved you ♡✧ woman ♡ safety net ♡ meet me in the hallway ♡✧ señorita ♡☆ addicted ♡☆ pen tattoos ♡ saturday nights ♡ fire away ♡✧ our forever ♡ paradise ♡☆ family isn't always blood ♡ remember ✧ - no one compares ♡ you have me ♡ icing kisses ♡ cartier ☆ home ♡ is that my flannel? ♡ know no better ♡☆ body ☆ my heart belongs to you ♡ fallin all in you ♡

peter parker

fix you ♡✧ not so bad ♡✧ get well soon ✧ ghosted ✧ annabelle's homework ♡✧ stark ♡ thinking bout you ♡ in my blood ♡✧ promise me ♡ dance to this ♡

nathan drake

maroon ♡✧

all blurbs can be found here!

#toms-gf era !!#i miss her lowkey #tom holland masterlist #masterlist

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kidney9-9 · 1 month

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Birthday Girl - Tom Holland

happy birthday to my best friend!!! i love you very much and i hope you're having a great bday today :) this is for you! ilyy you have brought a lot of joy into this world and i want you to have the best year possible! thank you for being such a sweet person, you deserve so many great things in life!

Tom Holland x Reader [Fluff and Smut] Warnings: Cursing, smut, little bit of praise, fingering Word Count: 5.2k

Tom was so excited about your birthday tomorrow to the point you weren’t really surprised when he pulled out a list on his phone about possible things to do to celebrate your birthday. It was currently 11pm, the day before your birthday and Tom was grinning widely as he wrapped an arm around you as he showed you the list.

“Alright, so I had way too many ideas about what to do for your birthday tomorrow that I had to put it in a list. And I know you’d like each of them, but I couldn’t choose what to surprise you with because each of them were too good to disregard. So, I was wondering what you’d like from this list to do, think of it like a spa brochure, and we’ll start once it turns midnight.” Tom rambled happily and your jaw dropped as you stared down at the list.

There was two pages of notes and ideas of what to do! “Oh god, Tom, how in the world did you think of all off these?!” You gaped at the list, scrolling through it.

“Oh, I’ve been preparing since the day after your last birthday.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but you stared at him with wide eyes, completely flabbergasted.

“What?!” You laughed slightly but turned your head to kiss his cheek gently. “You’re so sweet to me. I love you so much.”

His cheeks warmed just a little, “I love you too. I just wanted your birthday to be an extra special day for you since you’ve been working so much.”

You looked at the very first suggestion on the list and felt your cheeks warm slightly, “Aw, love making? And – oh you scheduled it for 3 hours!” You were flustered but you found it a little funny that he added that time suggestion to it.

“Only if you want to!” He cried out, shaking his head and looking incredibly embarrassed. “It’s completely up to you, seriously. I just put that there since I thought maybe you’d like that suggestion.”

“It’s okay, I like it, don’t worry.” You shrugged and smiled at him.

You smiled at his words, feeling grateful for him. You gazed down at the list again and laughed at one of the funnier suggestions, “Did you really put this one down? A brigadeiro making party?”

“Yeah! I know you love them – I also put down acai making party. If you want to do either of those, I can go get all the ingredients at the store and I’ll invite our friends over.” Tom responded, pointing out the other option on the list.

“You’re ridiculous.” You giggled and shook your head, “But they do sound fun.”

Tom smiled at that, “Yeah, and there’s also some stuff we can do by ourselves, and we can celebrate your birthday with friends and family another day.”

You hummed and nodded at his words. You did want to hang out with him one-on-one since you guys haven’t been able to spend as much time together lately. You had a lot of work since you took on a new project at the company you worked at, and you were in and out of meetings most days, so you only really saw Tom at night. You were glad you had tomorrow off!

“I think I want to just hang out with you tomorrow, babe. I miss hanging out with you.” You confessed and Tom’s face softened, and he leaned closer to you and kissed your lips gently.

“I missed that too. Remember when we’d slow dance on the balcony whenever that song came on the radio?” He stopped for a moment and smiled even more, “I keep thinking about how beautiful you looked out in the sunshine – even in the moonlight too, you’ve got this glow that I always miss.”

You practically melted into him, bringing him into an embrace. “Such a romantic sap,” You teased softly, and he added onto your words, “But you love it.”

“That’s right. We’re definitely dancing out on the balcony tonight. Right when it turns midnight, that’ll be a perfect way to start my birthday.” You murmured to him, and he squeezed you extra tight at your words, kissing your cheek.

“That’s perfect, darling. And we’re about forty minutes away too.” He stretched his arms up and leaned away, “I’m going to put some music on now and set things up on the balcony. I’ll clean the dishes up too.” He pointed to the dishes on the coffee table. You two ate a late dinner and snuggled on the couch for a while.

“Mm, thank you.” You said as he stood up from the couch. You shivered from the loss of the heat coming off his body. He quickly picked up a throw blanket and pressed it over you, smiling and leaning down again to peck your lips softly.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything like that, I’ll do it any day and anytime.” He paused as he picked the dishes up from the table, “Also don’t come in the kitchen, I got to get your surprise ready!”

You laughed and shook your head, “Baby, it’s not a surprise anymore if you say there’s a surprise.”

“Oh shit, yeah.” He chuckled at himself. He took the plates away and a minute later, you heard him setting up the speakers and playing some music. It was a slow romantic song that started first and your smile widened when you recognized it. It was the first song on the playlist he made you for Valentine’s one year.

He started singing the lyrics and you sung along with him softly, as you looked through more of the list on his phone. A few more of the options made you giggle a bit. “Tom, baby, what does it mean when you put ‘Taylor Swift’?” You wondered if it meant you two would listen to her albums for a while, which sounded like a fun time.

He walked back in and pushed a hand through his hair, “Oh, yeah, that’s a birthday gift that’s coming in a few months. I got us some front row tickets to one of her concerts!”

Your jaw dropped and you stared at him in silence. Tickets to her concert were extremely hard to get, especially front row ones. How in the world did he get them!? And why is he acting all nonchalant about it?

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Tom looked nervous and concerned, “Do you not like that gift? We don’t have to go.” He continued, walking closer to you.

“What! No, we’ve got to go! Oh my god, how did you get two front row tickets?” You snapped out of your shocked silence.

“I emailed her manager and asked politely.” Tom laughed and you were still completely shocked, and you laughed along with him.

“You are so crazy.” You breathed out and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He happily squeezed you back in the hug.

“I’m happy you like this early birthday gift – oh there’s like twenty minutes left now until your birthday.” Tom chuckled as you pulled away.

“Hmm, are you done with the dishes?” You asked, peeking over his shoulder to look into the kitchen.

He nodded, “Yep, but I have one more thing to do. I’ll be back really quick.” He leaned down and pecked your lips again and you smiled happily at him. He was so sweet.

“Okay… but don’t leave me trying to slow dance by myself for so long!” You called back laughing as you walked over to the balcony. You opened the doors up and sighed as the heat from outside hit you. You put the blanket back on the couch, no longer needing it. You and Tom had the habit of turning the AC on super cold all the time, even to the point you two were freezing during the heat outside.

“I won’t!” He said back. You walked back to the balcony and went outside, peering down to your garden, happy to see that the flowers were doing good down there. You and Tom planted a few a while ago when you guys had some free time. You planted some of your favorites, including tulips, and Tom planted one of his favorites and one of his mom’s favorites.

The music got louder when Tom adjusted the speakers, and then you gazed at the doorway to see Tom bringing in a mini cake on a platter, with a candle on the top. He turned on a few lights to make the balcony brighter.

“Aw, Tom! You didn’t need to get a cake!” You gasped as he brought it closer. It looked like it was one of your favorite types of cake too. A few pieces of fruit were surrounding the cake on the plate, all of which were fruits you liked.

“I wanted to! And it’s just a small cake. The one your family is planning to make is huge.” He responded, placing the cake down onto the outdoor table. Your eyes widened at the mention of your family making a cake.

“Oh god, not again.” You burst out into laughter. The last time your family made a cake, it was so large that there was barely a dent in it at the end of the party.

“Yeah, I’m prepared for it this time. I’m going to eat all the cake I can when they celebrate your birthday.” Tom snorted and you shook your head at him, amused.

“Alright, cake man.” You rolled your eyes playfully and motioned for him to come closer to you, “Come get your cake.” You joked and he looked shocked at your joke, before laughing with you.

“Don’t mind if I do. I didn’t expect you to start calling your ass cake after I started calling it that.” He chuckled and walked over to you.

“My ass looks good today, I couldn’t help it.” You responded and he nodded enthusiastically at your words.

“Very true. Looks great every day.” He said and wrapped his arms around your waist, lowering just slightly right before they hit your ass. You put your arms around his neck, and you both started to slow dance, swaying back and forth in the nightlight.

A new song started, and Tom grinned, “Aw, remember this one?” He spun you around and brought you back to him, then lowered his head and kissed your lips softly. “It was the song that you had sung at karaoke that made me blurt out how much I love you. The first time I said it.”

You smiled and nodded, staring up into his eyes. You could see all the love and joy in them, you almost swooned. “That was the point I really just confirmed you were the one. I could tell you actually meant it when you said it.”

His hand stroked your back up and down, “Yeah, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I wanted to say it for a while, but I thought I’d sound a bit crazy since it wasn’t long since we officially started dating.”

“You know, your brother, Harry, actually told me before that, that you were in love with me. He said he’d never saw you so lovestruck before.” You murmured, “I didn’t believe him. I thought he was just saying it to be nice.”

Tom raised his eyebrows in shock, “Oh god, when was that?” He stopped dancing at that moment, but you continued to pull him around, smiling at his expression.

“Our first Christmas with each other when we had dinner at your parents’ house. We were watching The Princess Diaries, and I went to go get more snacks and he helped me in the kitchen.” You recalled the memory, smiling as Tom shook his head.

“He’s so sneaky, but he’s good about it.” He smiled and you nodded, agreeing with him.

“Mm, yeah, he’s a good guy, even though he accidentally drove into my dad’s car that one time.” You joked, laughing as Tom started too as well.

“He’s still so sorry about that, he doesn’t trust back up cameras on cars now.” Tom laughed loudly then sighed and shook his head. He looked towards the clock inside the house, on the wall nearby and his eyebrows shot up.

“Oh! It’s almost midnight.” He pulled away and went over to the cake and lit the candle with a match he had in his pocket. You grinned happily as he excitedly walked over to you with the plate in his hands.

“Happy birthday, my love. Make a wish.” He whispered to you, after he checked the time again. You closed your eyes and blew out the candle. You opened your eyes and Tom cut a slice of cake for the two of you.

“It looks so good. Thank you, baby.” You whispered to him and kissed his cheek as you two sat down next to each other.

“You’re welcome, I love you.” He replied, yawning slightly as he took a bite of the cake. You took a bite as well, groaning in pleasure at the taste. It was delicious and you could practically melt in delight from it.

“I love you too. We should get to bed after this.” You said, snuggling into his side. He nodded in agreement and you two finished eating the slices of cake. He went and put the rest of it away to eat later and you turned the lights and music off before you two went to your bedroom.

You slipped your body under the covers on your side of the bed as Tom yawned again and got in the bed as well. He set a hand over yours and you scooted closer to him in the bed. “Goodnight baby, thank you for tonight – and tomorrow.” You smiled sleepily.

“Goodnight birthday girl.”

By the time you woke up, you could smell a delicious breakfast waiting for you in the other room. Sunlight drifted into the room from the blinds, and you stretched in the bed, shifting as you got up from the bed.

“Y/n?” Tom called out gently, walking into the room. You tiredly walked over to him and hugged him, making him chuckle and hug you back.

“Hi baby.” You whispered to him and pulled away, walking with him to the living room. One of your familiar favorite tv shows are on and you gazed at Tom with a happy expression, “You even put my favorite season on!” You gasped at that, and Tom nodded.

“Yeah, I also made us some breakfast. I made a few of your favorites.” He grinned and went over to the kitchen to start pulling out the food. He set it all on the dining room table and you walked over to see what he made. You gaped at it when you realized he really did make a few of your favorite breakfast foods. A lot of it!

“Tom! How are we going to eat all this?” You laughed, sitting down when he finished putting everything out. He sat beside you and took a sip of his tea.

“Um, I didn’t think of that – but we can save it all for the next couple days, I think!” He said, laughing. He picked up some of the food and put it on his plate, then offered to do the same for you but you shook your head.

“It’s alright, I can get it.” You responded and he pouted but nodded.

When you started to cut a pancake, he stopped you, “Wait, I’ll do that for you. I can cut it into pieces. How many pieces do you want?”

You furrowed your eyebrows once you realized he was being genuine about that, “Tom, baby, what?”

“I can cut like 4 big pieces of like normal 8 pieces – oh do you like it being cut in triangles? I can do that.” Tom rambled a little, about to cut your pancake with his fork and knife.

You started laughing silently, shaking a bit, “I’m good with cutting it on my own!”

“Eh? But it’s your birthday, I want to do everything for you, so you have the perfect day.” He explained, looking like it was a completely normal thing to say. You shook your head and set your hand over his.

“Baby, no. It’s alright. I can do it by myself. I’m not a kid.” You giggled a bit more as he looked a little bit down at your answer.

“Aw okay, well if you want anything just tell me.” He responded, putting his silverware down and squeezing your hand.

“Thank you, you’re incredibly sweet.” You mumbled to him and kissed his cheek, causing his frown to disappear.

When you were done eating a very full breakfast, you and Tom moved over to the living room, where you saw a huge box sitting in the corner of the room, with a few more gifts spread around. You gaped, “When did you do this? I was just in the living room before breakfast.”

“Oh, I did it when I put the dishes in the sink. These are just a few of the gifts right now, I’ll give you some more throughout the day!” He said happily, pleased to see your expression.

He pulled the huge box over to the couch and you started to open it with a pair of scissors, laughing when Tom started to stare at you with obvious excitement. “Ooh, what is this? I’m really confused.” You spoke up, trying to look in the box, but there was something hard you could feel.

“Open the box a little bit more, you’ll see.” He grinned widely, scooting closer to you.

Once you opened the top of the box completely, you pulled out the gift, eyes widening as you realized what it was. You pulled out a new guitar case, and you opened it up as quickly as you could, gawking at the very beautiful new guitar. You ran a hand over the wood, blinking a few times before it really kicked in that he got you a guitar!

“Wh- what?! You seriously got this?” You gasped, falling in love with the guitar instantly. It looked perfect, and you could tell it was great quality as well.

“Of course! Since you’re good at playing it, I thought maybe you’d like to have another one too.” He said sheepishly, but he looked extremely delighted to see how happy you were with the gift.

“I love it, thank you seriously. This is one of the bests gifts I’ve ever gotten.” You mumbled, still in awe of the guitar.

“Aw, yeah, you’re going to play it beautifully, I can tell.” Tom responded, brushing his hand up and down your back.

After opening a few more amazing gifts, you turned to Tom with a big smile on your face, “I think I know what to pick from your list.” You spoke up, changing the subject.

“Oh, what do you want to do?” Tom asked, shifting in his seat on the couch.

You cheekily leaned closer to him, going up to his ear and whispered, “Number one.”

His face was blank for a moment before he realized what you meant and then his expression shifted into an excited one and he moved his neck slightly to turn to face you and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek softly.

“I would very much like that too.” He whispered back and you giggled softly, closing the gap between you two with a kiss. It was firm and loving, and slowly turned a bit harder as you opened your mouth a bit and his tongue slipped against yours delicately, then messily.

He pushed himself closer to you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and squeezing one of your breasts before pinching softly around and on your nipple. You moaned against his lips, feeling him move closer and closer as you fell back against the couch.

He climbed on top of you, moving his hips against yours, grinding and making you gasp his name loudly when you felt something poking down there after a few more seconds. His hard on rubbed against you, and you shifted, letting it hit your clothed clit.

You moaned heavily, dragging your lips against his as you pushed your hips up to grind against his harder.

“Need more.” You panted out and he nodded, pulling away hesitantly from your lips, “Fuck,” He breathed out.

“That got hot really fast.” He continued, starting to take his shirt off. He threw it across the room, not caring where it landed. He got up and undid his pants and pushed his underwear as well. Your vision focused on his dick, and you squeezed your thighs together, feeling your underwear dampen even more. He got a condom from his pant’s pockets, rolling it onto his dick.

You took your top off, glad you weren’t wearing a bra and then you pushed your pants down, not caring that they didn’t go off your ankles as Tom climbed back over you, kissing down your neck and pinching your other nipple.

“I love you so much.” He sighed against your neck, licking, and sucking a certain spot that made you press up against him even more.

“I, ahh, I love you too.” You gasped out as his hand slipped down to your pussy, rubbing two fingers over your clit in circular movements. He hummed against your neck, moving to your mouth. He paused as he sunk one finger into your pussy, pumping in and out.

“You’re taking my fingers so good.” He whispered against your lips, pushing another in, causing you to shiver from the pleasure.

“I need you, Tom. Please, I need you in me.” You whimpered against him, chasing an orgasm.

“Ah, okay, shit, you’re going to make me finish earlier than usual because of what you’re saying.” He huffed out before he pulled his fingers out. He put them into his mouth as he pulled away from your lips, and he groaned deeply.

“Tastes so good, all the time.” He muttered and with that, he slowly pushed himself in, making you gasp loudly.

“Fuck, oh, yes, yes, Tom!” You panted, moving to push his cock into you even more. He finally was fully in, and he started to rock in and out of you slowly at first.

He pushed up against your g-spot, making you moan more, eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure continued to hit you faster and harder. “That’s it, keep taking me like that. You’re such a good girl.” He cried out against your neck, and his hand snuck back down to your pussy, starting to rub your clit again.

It sent you over the edge as he started to rub it in tempo with fucking you, going a little faster. Your legs wrapped around him tightened just a bit before they loosened as your orgasm hit you. “Tom, I’m coming!” You shouted and he continued his actions, groaning your name out.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m almost there too. Keep going, baby.” He cried back, and he started coming, your name falling from his lips.

“I love you, so much.” You struggled to get out.

“I love you too baby, happy birthday.” He panted back, kissing you once more.

He continued to pulse in and out until you both were breathing heavily, and when he stopped coming. He pulled himself out of you, taking the condom off as he stood up and tied it together before throwing it in the trash near the door.

“That was so good.” You sighed out, wiping your forehead to get the sweat off.

“Yeah, birthday sex is always the best.” He laughed gently as he sat next to you, pulling you up softly from the couch.

You felt a little sleepy but just being next to him, seeing him all hot and sweaty from what just happened made you want to do it again. You stood up, holding your hand out to help him stand up from the couch.

“Round two in the shower?” You winked at him, and his eyes widened, and he immediately took your hand, standing up to walk with you to the bathroom.

“You are insane, but yes please! Round two of love making!” He laughed, following you.

After finishing three more rounds, you and Tom were exhausted, laying on the bed together. It was around 5 in the afternoon now and you were checking your phone, texting back your friends and saying thank you for all the sweet birthday wishes.

“I’ve got to call my family, I’m going to put it on speaker. I know they’ll want to talk to you too.” You spoke up, shifting to put your head on his chest. He smiled gently back at you and nodded.

“I like talking with them, they’re pretty nice.” He yawned slightly.

You called your mom, who answered after the second ring. “Daughter! Hello! Happy birthday!” She shouted over the phone, and you heard some shuffling over the phone before you heard a lot of voices singing the birthday song together.

“Aw, guys. You don’t have to sing that.” You laughed as Tom started to sing happy birthday too.

“Happy Birthday to Y/n, Happy Birthday to you!” Your family sang loudly over the phone. You heard your dad add on, “And many more…”, clapping at the end. You chuckled a bit at it.

“Thanks everyone. How are you guys doing?” You spoke up, feeling Tom’s fingers going through your hair. You sighed, feeling relaxed and sleepy as he continued.

“We’re all good! How is your birthday going? We want to celebrate it next week when everyone is able to get together for some lunch!” Your mom asked.

“It’s really good, Tom surprised me with some good gifts today.” You answered and your dad gasped.

“Oh! Tom, how’s he doing?” He questioned and you gazed up at Tom to see him smiling.

“I’m doing good, sir. We’re celebrating Y/n’s birthday all day today, but we’re taking a little rest right now.” Tom responded.

“Ah, good. Are you taking her out to dinner?” Your dad asked, and you laughed slightly.

“Dad, I’m right here still.” You commented.

“Well, I still want to know. Are you romancing my daughter? Is she happy?” Your dad continued.

Tom silently chuckled, but spoke up, “Yes, she is happy! And it’s her choice if she’d like to go out to dinner. I have a few reservations saved for tonight if she does want to go out to dinner at three of her favorite restaurants.”

“Hm, that’s very thoughtful of you. Good work. Keep it up.” Your dad responded and you heard your mom sigh.

“Okay, enough of that. Send us some pictures! We’ll see you next week. Happy birthday again, sweetheart!” Your mom said goodbye and ended the call after you and Tom said goodbye.

You shifted to look up at Tom, “Did you really reserve all those restaurants? Even with the one with great burgers?”

“Yeah of course.” He nodded.

You pouted as you tried to sit up, feeling extremely sleepy. “I want to go get those burgers, but I’m so tired.” You said, stretching your arms up in the air.

“Oh, that’s okay! I can order them and have the food delivered here.” Tom responded and you grinned widely, collapsing back on the bed next to him.

“Really? This is the best day ever! We’ve got to get extra food too because we skipped lunch.” You said and he laughed, agreeing with you.

“Yeah, we got to get those chili fries too. And milkshakes.” Tom added.

The two of you ordered a bunch of food and moved over to the living room. You started to tune the guitar that he got you, still so surprised with the gift. Tom was happily watching you before he got up and moved to the kitchen to get something.

“I got you one more gift.” He spoke up, walking back to where you were. You looked up at him, wondering what it was, but you were also a bit surprised. He was giving way too many gifts!

“Baby, this better be the last gift.” You joked.

“It is! I promise. Here you go.” He handed you a small box. You looked at it and shifted it in your hands, before opening it. The box had a dark red, crushed violet feel to it, and when you opened it, you saw a stunning necklace with the letter T on it.

“Aww, Tom! This is so cute.” You were shocked and in awe of it. It was so pretty, with a few jewels on it. “Can you put it on me, please?” You asked, watching as Tom looked relieved to see you like it.

“Yeah, sure.” He delicately put it around your neck. It sat down on your neck neatly, and Tom smiled as he watched you grin happily as you looked down at it.

“I love it so much. I love you, Tom. You’ve made this day absolutely perfect.” You whispered, gazing up into his eyes.

Tom leaned down and kissed your lips gently, pulling a breath away from you, “I love you too. You deserve every great thing in life. You’ve brought me a lot of happiness and whenever I look at you, I feel like I can see the entire world in color for the first time.” He murmured sweetly to you.

“Thank you, Tom, really.” You responded.

The food arrived about thirty minutes later and you and Tom devoured it all. It was delicious, and you absolutely loved it because it was from one of your favorite restaurants. You two ate while watching another one of your favorite movies.

When you two were finished, you guys cleaned up and threw the trash away, then went over to the garden to go sit on the porch swing to watch the sunset.

“It’s so pretty tonight.” You said, loving the view. You and Tom swung softly on the bench. You were finishing up your milkshake, while Tom got himself a cup of tea.

He gazed at you as he responded, “Yeah, you always are.”

Your eyes shifted over to him, and you realized what he meant after a moment and you felt your cheeks flush slightly, “Tom…”

“Mm, just speaking the truth.” He mumbled back, enjoying your reaction as you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“I love you. I’ll always love you.” You spoke up after a moment of silence. Tom shifted his hand into yours and squeezed.

“Love you too, birthday girl.” He replied, scooting closer to you.

“I think this is one of the best parts of the day.” You said, a smile forming on your face as you gazed at him. “Because I’ll remember each time I see the sunset that you’ve given me something so precious in life. I feel so lucky to have your love.”

Tom squeezed your hand, “And I’m lucky to have your love as well. If I could, I’d give you all you’d want in the world, just to see your smile.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #happy birthday!!#thank you for reading!

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revengemode · 2 months

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1. Hollywood has yet to find an actor who could follow in Leo and Tom Cruise’s footsteps. These articles come in cycles and usually after the white boy of the month’s team wants to capitalize on their box office success that is 10/10 related to a huge IP anyway.

2. Talk about a Glen Powell sneak 🤣. I almost fell off my chair. No one got up to see Maverick to see Glen. Abeg. Existing IP + the Tom Cruise of it all…hello? He got carried by Sydney in “Anyone But You” so what are we really talking about here? Glen???

3. Did I miss the movie TH released post NWH-Uncharted? I could have sworn he had earned the “Box Office King”crown and exhibitors were on his dick in 2022. What changed? The Crowded Room? A tv show? On Apple TV (we discussed their marketing “issues” at length). If anything, logic would say that he is in the “wait and see” category just like… you guessed it Chalamet.

4. If we are going to knock Tom for what he did pre NWH-Uncharted then same rules apply for Chalamet? Or we are not supposed to talk about the fiasco that was Bones & All. Even when accounting the cannibalism of it all, the movie’s performance was a disappointment. His star power draw was nowhere to be seen.

5. Show me the metrics that show Timothée brought more people who had no interest in the Dune IP than Zendaya did? You can’t. Just like Glendale up there, Timothée benefited from the star power of their female co-star but somehow we are not touching on that in this piece? At all? 🤣

6. Wonka over performed, some of it can be attributed to Chalamet for sure (Sounds familiar? We did the same dance with Uncharted) but he “has yet to consistently prove himself as a draw”.

7. Tom Holland and Zendaya may not be movie stars but the way these publications have been reaching to include them in certain conversations (with the ones they have anointed) for engagement it’d be hard to say that they are not stars.

Well done Variety for capitalizing on stan wars though 😂

Reaching for the stars ✨

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vettelsvee · 2 months

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YOU CAN STAND UNDER MY UMBRELLA | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist

ferrari sebastian vettel x fem oc (she's diana, the main character of history series!), max verstappen x fem oc

word count: 2670

warnings: smut. oral (female receiving and male receiving), fingering, p in v), seb getting horny af over her fiancee dancing tom holland's umbrella performance (or at least trying to huh). seb here has a sister named lara, who's dating max :)

you can send your one shots requests here!

"Come on, it's easier than you think! You just have to raise your arms like this, as if you were holding an umbrella."

To say Lara was obsessed with Tom Holland was an understatement, and that included the dance she had done on Lip Sync Battle with one of Rihanna's most iconic songs.

While Sebastian and Max were busy, the German with his daughter, Emily, and the Dutchman preparing a barbecue, the sisters-in-law decided to goof around near the pool that occupied most of one of the patios of the house Sebastian and Diana shared in Switzerland.

"Like this?" the redhead asked as she imitated the gesture that the German had told her.

"Yes! You're nailing it, Di!" the girl shouted, jumping with excitement. "Now you just have to lean your body to one side and make movements with your torso like you're a wave in the sea." Wagner laughed at the girl's comparison, though she tried to follow her steps. "Hey, don't laugh, you dickhead!"

Diana, despite being comfortable with everyone present, always had a certain shyness about doing something she wasn't used to. However, as she began to let herself go, her movements became increasingly fluid, growing her enthusiasm for the choreography that had initially seemed so difficult to her.

"It seems like they're having fun, huh?" the Dutchman commented to Vettel.

"I can see that yes," the elder of the drivers replied as he cradled his daughter to try to get her to sleep. "Knowing both of them, I have no idea what might come out of whatever they're doing."

As the night progressed, the steps became more fluid and perfect, impressing the girls themselves. They couldn't stop laughing, and they even decided to improvise some moves to add their personal touch. At the same time, the drivers continued grilling the meat they had bought, and it wasn't until they started arguing about who had made a better hamburger that the girls ran to their rescue.

"Guys, calm down. We've been doing something you might like!"

Lara ran out, in a bikini, and stood between her brother and her boyfriend, stopping the senseless argument they were having before it escalated. After all, it wasn't the first time Vettel and Verstappen had faced off off the track over silly things like that.

"Is it related to that little dance you're doing from that Spider-Man kid?" Max wanted to know.

The raven-haired girl raised an eyebrow and shot her boyfriend a look, although she was dying of laughter inside at the silly jealousy attack he was having over an actor she would never meet.

Diana approached Sebastian and planted a kiss on his lips as he held her waist and squeezed her, tickling her and causing her to burst into laughter.

"Seb, stop it!" she exclaimed, pulling away from her fiancé and earning a puppy-dog pout from him.

Lara quickly took advantage of the moment and grabbed the woman by her wrist, leading her to a slightly more secluded spot from their partners, positioning her perfectly for her boyfriend to have a perfect view of her, and giving her a knowing look before playing the song on her phone.

As the first notes began to play, so did they. Although a bit shy at first, especially Diana, both gained confidence as the song progressed. Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, as if they had been rehearsing for months. The chemistry between the sisters-in-law was undeniable, something that left the men speechless.

The Dutchman watched his girlfriend's performance with wide eyes, unable to look away from the German woman who had stolen so many sighs from him. His lip, as if by reflex, began to be bitten by his own teeth. Lara noticed it, and made an effort to show her sensual side even more.

Vettel, on the other hand, couldn't understand how, in almost five years of relationship, he had never seen this side of Diana Wagner. As the German watched her girlfriend move, he couldn't help but be aroused. His eyes began to roam over her entire body, focusing especially on her breasts, waist, and buttocks. Although the movements the Austrian was making were not intended to be sensual, she did them in such a natural way that Sebastian was starting to get very horny to the point of having to try to calm down the erection that was forming in his pants.

He tried to divert his thoughts to his daughter, asleep in her stroller while tightly hugging a cloud-shaped plush toy, beside him, and to the barbecue fire, whose embers were slowly dying out. But no matter how much Vettel tried to put his thoughts in order, all he wanted in those moments was to passionately make love to his future wife.

As the performance came to an end both drivers stood up, cheering and applauding enthusiastically. The youngest Vettel bowed, but Diana simply remained still, her cheeks turning the same color as her hair.

The rest of the night went by among laughter, games and the karaoke session with the music playing from a local radio station. Around one in the morning, Lara and Max decided to retire, leaving Sebastian and Diana alone in the patio's chill-out area.

After the younger couple left, Sebastian got up and carried his daughter in his arms to take her to her room to rest and not interfere with the plans he had prepared for him and his girlfriend. Upon his return, he found the engineer settled on one of the sofas, letting her hair down, previously tied.

For the future marriage, the night had just started.

"Di, I had no idea you danced so well," he said, approaching her with a slightly mischievous smile, "especially not in that kind of dance."

Diana shifted on the sofa and stared directly at her boyfriend, who had sat down beside her. Slowly, and as she spoke to him, she proceeded to remove the beach dress that covered her body, leaving herself in the swimsuit she was wearing.

"Well, wait until we get married, love: then you'll see me dance well, especially at night."

Quickly, the redhead positioned herself over Vettel, noticing how his penis was rapidly becoming erect and pressing firmly against her intimacy, covered by the piece of fabric. Diana noticed the surprise even on Sebastian's face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and as quickly as she could, she started to kiss him with desperation. All Seb could do was moan as his girl, the only thing she did, was getting him more turned on and herself as she began to direct her lips down his neck, ignoring the tickles his beard was giving her.

"Di... sit down."

The mentioned followed Sebastian's orders and positioned herself on the couch with her legs open as he continued to kiss her only to end up moving down to her intimate area, kneeling in front of her, opening her lower extremities even more.

Carefully, she began to massage her pussy over the swimsuit, earning nothing but sighs and pleas from Diana.

"Seb, please," demanded the redhead.

Sebastian lifted his gaze and smirked mischievously. Then, he pushed aside the lower part of the woman's garment, still on, exposing her intimacy and already running his hands between her labia slowly, torturing her.

"Do you like it like this, Di?" the driver announced with a hoarse voice. "My fingers in your pussy, slowly as fuck, is it enough for you, or do you want more?"

"I don't know why you're asking me: you know I always want more."

He knew, of course he knew. He just wanted to hear it from her lips.

Sebastian knew the future Mrs. Vettel more than she knew herself.

Without saying or doing anything else, he began to eagerly eat out Diana. There was nothing the German liked more than making his girlfriend enjoy. He went from more to less, and teased her with surprise rhythm changes and adding a finger in ocasional moments. That day, however, they had to hurry because he knew his sister and brother-in-law could show up at any moment.

So, he dedicated himself solely to move his lips and tongue as quickly as possible all over her pussy, focusing especially on doing it against the girl's clit. Diana's excitement was such that, with both hands, she pulled Sebastian's hair strongly while forcing his head closer to her intimacy, urging him to eat her even more eagerly. He seemed to catch the hint: his hands grabbed the redhead's hips and held her even tighter to his mouth, now focusing on playing with his tongue at her entrance.

"Sebastian Vettel, oh my god," moaned the redhead arching her back when she felt Sebastian's palms now grabbing her buttocks. "One day you're going to kill me and you'll be left without sex."

He realized that not having had sex for a while due to lack of intimacy was causing her climax to come faster than usual. Quickly, while not stopping giving small bites to Diana's bundle of nerves, he began to take off his swimsuit, leaving his penis completely exposed, erect as it hadn't been in a long time.

Diana was on the verge of the orgasm, she knew it, and that's why Seb decided to stop, leaving her with desire and a scream about to come out of her.

"No, no, no," she began to say in desperation, "don't you dare do this to me, Seb."

"Who said we're done, princess?"

As soon as his words escaped his lips, he took Diana by the waist and switched positions with her. Now, he was the one sitting down, and the woman on top of him, rubbing against his member to see if she could finally reach her orgasm. Sebastian took a moment to begin lowering the upper part of her swimsuit and started massaging her breasts, leaving a kiss in every place, and taking her nipples between his lips.

"Are you tired?" the German asked in the midst of excitement. "If you want, I can let you be on the bottom, lying down."

"No way, Seb," the girl replied, wanting to take control with her boyfriend. She kept rubbing against him, her hands against his chest. "Let me be on top. It's been a while since I set the pace."

"I'm serious, Di. You've been having trouble with sleeping for several nights with Emily being sick. I don't mind, really. Even if you want to stop, really" he added. "If you don't feel comfortable to continue, we can stop and go back to what we were doing before. Just us lying here on the sofa, I really don't mind."

Diana snorted. She couldn't believe Sebastian was thinking about her well-being at that moment rather than the fact that they were about to fuck after almost a month without doing it.

She absolutely and completely hated that her future husband was so good to her on occasions like this. Well, not only good in this occasions, in every occasion.

"I just want to take care of you," he let her know, looking at her decisively.

"Then let me be on control today."

With that, Diana masturbated her partner as best she could, and immediately she sat on his penis and the rhythm of her hips began.

Wagner focused on doing it as slowly as he could, trying to keep a steady pace and enjoy the intimate moment she was having with Seb, who just smiled when he realized the girl's intentions. With more care than usual, considering what they were doing, he took her chin and kiss her to silence her moans, which were increasing in frequency and volume.

As they progressed, so did the speed of her hips guided by Sebastian's hands, which rested on her waist. When he noticed an increase in her excitement, he buried his face in the German's neck, who took the opportunity to leave, carefully, bites, kisses and small marks on her neck that would possibly turn into darker ones in the next few hours.

"I love you so much, Sebastian," Diana tried to say, breathless from the effort she was making, "you have no idea how much."

"Whose are you?" he suddenly blurted out, surprising the girl.

Without a plan, but noticing how Diana's walls began to contract around his cock, Sebastian tried to reach the girl's clitoris to start massaging it and make her release come once and for all.

He received no response. Only continuous moans as the engineer threw her head back, seeming not to want to end until he did.

"Diana Vettel, I want you to answer me: whose are you?"

"I'm not Diana Vettel," she replied, slowing her pace to torture the man. Obviously, she succeeded eagerly. Vettel, at the same time, matched her level by removing contact with her intimacy. "So call me by my name and I'll answer you."

"No, you're not" he refused, knowing perfectly well that he was testing her patience, "but you will be in a year. So now, answer me: whose are you, Diana Vettel?" he emphasized her last name with a too husky voice.

"Yours," she replied, giving up with a choked moan. "I'm yours, Sebastian. I have always been yours, and I'll always be yours."

With that, the speed of the index finger, the same one that the Ferrari driver used a lot to celebrate his victories in public, returned to where it was before, although this time increasing along with his thrusts against Diana. In a matter of seconds, the girl was already trembling on top of him, clinging tightly to his neck to avoid falling while admiring the scene she was starring in with her future husband.

Sebastian felt that his release was also imminent, and he let her know.

"Love, I'm going to cum. I don't think it's the best option to do it inside you, but if you want..."

No more was needed because Diana, in the heat of the moment, didn't hesitate to get off her boyfriend's lap to kneel in front of him. Immediately, she took his penis in her hands and didn't hesitate to put it in her mouth. Sucking as hard as she could, and making use of her deep throat while massaging his testicles and what didn't fit, she noticed how her opening, seconds later, was gradually filled with a salty taste that wasn't much to her liking, but she swallowed without protest.

After finishing and regaining composure, Wagner fell back on the couch, next to Sebastian, and kissed him again with affection, both enjoying their own fluids in each other's mouths. They didn't spend much time embraced until Sebastian noticed that Diana seemed to be increasingly weighed down by her eyes, possibly because drowsiness was setting in on her.

"Are you falling asleep, love?" the drive asked in a soft voice, still appearing excited.

The redhead murmured something unintelligible, confirming the suspicions that were running through Vettel's mind.

Therefore, without much thought, he took Diana in his arms. She offered no resistance, and all she did was snuggle into Seb's chest, trying to find the perfect position as he headed towards the bedroom they shared.

When they arrived, Sebastian made sure to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake little Emily. Next, he laid Diana on the bed and began to undress her, removing her still damp swimsuit slowly, replacing it with the nightgown she occasionally wore to sleep. Afterwards, he simply lifted the girl, now seemingly fast asleep, to tuck her in between the thin sheets.

The German laid down beside her and wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her as if he might lose her at any moment. He kissed her tenderly on her forehead before sleep consumed him too, something that became a night routine for the couple.

"Rest well, my love," he said yawning, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Thank you for being with me another day."

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