#richkid!tom holland | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

totheblood · 2 years

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people i don't like | tom holland

act one: round one

summary: college is much harder than you thought it would be and now you have to pretend to be rich and join a sorority to keep your scholarship. tom just happens to be the rich frat boy who gets thrown in the mix.

↳ richkid!au, college!au

word count: 4.3k+

(a/n at end of chapter)

You were generally a smart person.

At least that’s what you told yourself. You were smart, in an over-achieving, high marks on all your papers kind of way. You were smart, in a valedictorian, staying up late studying type of way. You were smart enough to earn yourself a seat at one of the most elite universities in the world. You were also smart enough to earn yourself a full ride. However, you were not as smart as you thought.

As you grew accustomed to the harsh Connecticut winter, bulking up in thick wool jackets and getting warm with herbal teas, you failed to adapt to the rigorous curriculum at Yale. You found it hard to keep up with your peers, the due dates always being earlier than expected and the words that got you through high school somehow falling short. Whatever work you were doing was described by your professors as dull, lacking understanding, and rushed no matter how hard you tried. This would’ve meant seemingly nothing, the only downside being a bit of a bruised ego, but every time you got a bad grade your mind drifted to your mother.

Your mother who sent you off to college with her last five paychecks and a kiss on the cheek. The mother who raised you all by herself after your father abandoned you. The mother who worked multiple jobs to pay the bills and make sure you never felt the lack of your father. The woman who you knew, even if it wasn’t explicitly said, was banking on the fact that you would graduate from an ivy league and land any job you wanted. A part of you knew your mother would always be proud of you, no matter what you did, but you still felt your stomach sink at the idea that your scholarship might be jeopardized with your poor grades and you would have to leave Yale and compromise the future your mother expected of you.

To your surprise you finished your first semester with 2 A’s, 3 B’s, and a bit of frostbite from the blizzard you had the night before finals. You were really shocked, however, that you had gotten an A in your Advanced English Literature class, seeing as you handed in all your papers late and received nothing but criticism from Professor Berger. So you remained blissfully unaware, arriving back on campus in late January with a new attitude and determination to do better this semester. You were unaware as you unpacked your belongings again and heard your phone chime the same sound it does ten times a day. Unaware as you opened up your email to see in big bold letters:

URGENT - MEETING WITH PROFESSOR BERGER TO FINALIZE YOUR GRADE

After freaking out for about an hour on the phone with your best friend, Fletcher, he urged you to go to Professor Bergers office as soon as possible to get this resolved. So you made your way over to his office on campus, your hands shaking and heartbeat fast as you waited outside his office for him to be finished with whatever student he had decided to torment first. You were almost positive you were having a heart attack and you watched as your vision got blurry until-

“Ms. Y/L/N?” He announced in a loud yet firm voice, his eyes catching your frantic ones. “Are you ready to come in?” He asked, pushing the door more open with his body, his arm outstretched motioning you to come in. So you gave him a nervous smile, averted your eyes, and sat on the chair facing his desk. You sat with your clammy hands and rapid heartbeat as he closed his door behind you and made his way to the other side of the desk. As he sat, he began searching through his desk for your file and upon finding it let out a deep sigh and placed it on the desk between you two.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I know you were probably a bit confused as to how and why you got an A in my class last semester after never submitting a paper on time.” He stated, seeming to wait for your response.

“Well, I would never look a gift horse in its mouth if you know what I mean.” You joked, earning not even a hint of a smile. Tough crowd.

He let out another sigh, rolled up his sleeves, and leaned forward on his desk getting as close to you as his desk would allow. “Look, Y/N, I am a firm believer in second chances. I know that the first semester at Yale is most difficult for new students and I know what it’s like to be in your position. I know there are certain requirements for your scholarship and I would like for you to be able to meet them but for the grade I gave you last semester, you will have to earn that.”

At this point you were confused, scared, and developing a wicked headache so you had no idea what to say. You thought he would keep talking but when he didn’t, you took that as your sign to open your mouth.

“I’m sorry Professor, do you want me to retake your class? Because I think that the times that you have class conflict with my current schedule.” You explained, a smile on your face that pleaded ‘please go easy on me’.

“No, I’m not asking you to retake my class. I am asking you to write an in depth paper about a person, a thing, an organization, anything really that you hate or opposes your worldview. And I’m not talking about mild research, I’m talking literally putting yourself in their shoes. Walk around in them, and then write about it. Write from a different perspective. Become someone new. Your writing is good, but it is also juvenile. It’s inexperienced. You only see the world from your point of view, and to be a good writer, you need to change that.”

All you could catch yourself doing was blinking back in surprise. He wanted you to write a research paper for your A? That you could do, and if it was only one paper then you could also do it really well. So you plastered a smile on your face and nodded back at him.

“So how long do you want it to be? And when is it due?” You inferred, hoping you had time to figure out who this paper was going to be about.

“However long it needs to be to let me know how your view has changed and why. You have until the end of this semester.” This time he gave you a smile. Not a kind smile, but a smile that let you know that he was in charge.

“What if my views don’t change?” You questioned.

“If you get to know the thing, the people, the organization, some part of your views will change. Not all of it, but some.”

With limited written up instructions, he sent you off into the night, your head now on the verge of exploding from information overload. On your way home you began to think of ideas, who to write about, who you hated, and how you were possibly going to get to walk in their shoes. With your headphones in you couldn’t hear the loud music on sorority row as you approached, but you did see the lights and people scattered all over the lawn. Bodies on top of bodies, and groups of unbelievably hot rich girls and douchey rich frat boys gathered in circles on porches of houses and you rolled your eyes at the entire concept of greek life.

It appalled you how these people spent money on huge houses, useless parties, and galas while you were struggling to even go to this college. How these people, basically dry humping on the lawn, didn’t have to worry about grades or that classes started tomorrow because they could afford to fail. It made you angry but it also made you insanely jealous. However, as you rolled your eyes at the people having fun and ‘living life’ it occurred to you that they just might be the answer to all your problems.

Fletcher was already outside your dorm room door when you arrived, a chocolate chip cookie in hand. He was the first and only friend you made at school and he was also the reason you made it through the first semester. He was awkward but in a way that made you comfortable to be around him. He was this tall, blonde hair, standard white guy that you would have found attractive if he wasn’t Fletcher. But he was your friend and possibly the best friend you ever had and you in no way wanted to mess that up, the taste of platonic intimacy being all you needed.

“Brought you a cookie.” He stated, smiling and opening his arms up for a hug. You happily obliged since you hadn’t seen your friend in weeks and you were missing human touch. “Just in case you got bad news.” His words getting muffled by your hair.

You pulled back from him and moved to open your door so you both could pile in. “No, not bad news. Just different news.”

He placed the cookie on your desk and sat down on your bed, leaning back and taking off his jacket. “Different news? What does that mean?” He watched as you took your jacket and shoes off and hopped on the bed next to him.

“It means that Professor Berger wants me to write a paper about something that I oppose, but I have to really get to know it.” You told him, your voice low as you rested your head against the wall.

“That makes no sense to me.” Fletcher replied, leaning up on his elbows to get a good look at you. “What are you gonna do?”

“I think I’m going to rush Kappa Kappa Gamma.” You stated simply, getting up to grab your cookie and quickly returning to your spot on the bed. Fletcher, however, quickly sat up and sat crossed legged across from you, watching your movements.

“What do you mean you're going to rush Kappa Kappa Gamma? Do you want to lose your soul?” He asked rushed as if he was genuinely worried about you joining a sorority.

“It’s not like for real, just something to write my paper about. That’s all.” You took a bite of your cookie as your friend began to look more panicked.

“Y/N, do you know what they do to people who rush sororities? Awful things. People die from hazing, you know. And isn’t the initiation fee like a thousand dollars?” He questioned frantically, making good points, and while you knew that Fletcher was protective of you, you were also sure that rushing greek life wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to you.

“I have money saved up from the cafe that I don’t have anything to spend on. And I can take care of myself, Fletch. I promise I won’t let some sorority girls kill me.” You tried reassuring him, which seemed to work but he still looked a bit spooked.

“Just be careful, Y/N, if you decide to do this.” He pleaded, grabbing your hand. “Please?”

“I will be careful, I promise.”

ROUND ONE

Round one took place that Saturday night, the KKG foyer decorated elegantly with baby pink streamers and a big bright banner that read: Welcome To Your Future. You wanted to laugh at the irony, but didn’t. You were ashamed to admit that you spent over 200 dollars on a dress from Free People that seemed to fit you in the right places. It was silk with a deep V neck and flowy sleeves. It was long and flowy, yet form fitting at your waist. It was comfortable enough to wear with your large leather jacket with fur trimmings that you thrifted a month ago back home. You spent over an hour doing your makeup, trying to play up your best features with your newest purchases from Sephora. You are also not proud to admit that you spent over an hour doing a deep conditioning treatment on your hair so it could look extra healthy for tonight. Needless to say, you were dressed for the part.

To your surprise, that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part would be talking like you belonged there. Finding out where rich people buy their groceries, buy their clothes, what gyms they had subscriptions to. The hard part would be the conversation, the forced laughter, and trying to not look absolutely disgusted when taking a bite of caviar. It was making sure your posture was right, making sure you exuded enough confidence for them to want to get to know you. Confidence had never been your strong suit, but you were sure it was something you could muster up for a night or two, or maybe that was your fake confidence talking.

Whatever it was, you were in a room full of girls your age who either looked terrified or absolutely at home and you could tell you were teetering the line between the two. So you made your way across the room to where two tall, clean, and effortlessly beautiful women were standing beside a table full of finger foods and premade cocktails. You didn’t acknowledge them, seeing as you didn’t want to come off as desperate or needy, but they definitely noticed you.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the two girls looked you up and down before turning to each other and whispering. You wanted to yell at them about how whispering is rude but instead you took a glass filled with champagne and a baby pink bow around the stem and took a swig from the cup before turning your attention to the party. You were observing the other girls, with their long flowy dresses and silky hair and wondered to yourself how much you truly looked like them. You were just getting lost in your thoughts when the girls from before approached you.

“Hi, I’m Millie.” The first girl smiled, a hand outstretched for yours. She was the type of beautiful people wrote books about. She had a sculpted face and amber eyes with the highest cheekbones you have seen in your life. She had long honey brown hair that sat nicely on her shoulders and she wore a strapless black dress that would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for her long legs and high heels. “Millie Astor, I’m the president of Kappa Kappa Gamma.” She bragged and offered you a sugary sweet smile as you took her hand and shook before quickly retreating. “And you are?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L.” You smiled so widely that your cheeks hurt. “It’s so beautiful what you’ve done with the place. Truly stunning.” you beamed. You were unsure if this was going to win you points with Millie, but you didn’t want to come off as detached or have her believe you thought you were too good for this sorority.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Condescending, you thought to yourself. “Are you planning on rushing KKG?” She inquired in an insincere way.

“I’m thinking about it, yes. My mom is a legacy at Kappa Alpha Theta so I’m also rushing there.” You replied back to her in the same insincere way. She smiled at you like you said the right thing and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Well, please consider rushing Kappa Kappa Gamma. We would be lucky to have you.” This time she actually sounded sincere.

“I’ll think about it. It was lovely talking to you.”

About 30 minutes had passed and you had already talked to enough people to last you a lifetime, but you needed everyone here to like you. You don’t know why you needed it to be that way, but you assumed that it would be easier to get dirt if you got on good with everyone here. But as the night went on and you began on your fifth champagne flute, you found yourself sitting down next to some girl seated at the kitchen island.

“Hey,” she smiled the first genuine smile of the night, almost seeming shocked that someone was sitting down next to her.

“Hey.” you smiled back, giving her the best half smile you could muster.

“I’m Hazel.” she told you more awkwardly this time, her confidence draining by your cold demeanor.

“I’m Y/N.” You sighed, keeping your gaze with her and taking another sip from your champagne flute. She had shoulder length black hair and tan skin. Her kind eyes kept creasing everytime she spoke and she was suited in a short gold dress that you were sure cost more than your house. She looked nice, but she also looked nervous.

“Are you anxious?” You asked, glancing at her fingers playing with her thumbs.

“That obvious?” She laughed, the tension draining from her body but you just held her gaze and gave her a real smile. “Yeah, I’m really anxious. I feel like I don’t belong here when getting into this sorority has been a lifelong dream of mine.” That’s a sad dream, you thought.

“What makes you think you don’t belong here? You certainly look the part.” You told her. This was you in your own way trying to be nice.

“I know I have this fancy dress on and my mom is a legacy but I just feel like the people here don’t get me like I thought they would.” She confided in you, her head now resting on the cold tile of the kitchen island, her brown eyes glancing up at you.

“Well, you just have to act the part now. Make them get you. Assimilate or some shit like that.” That sounded more comforting in your head. “Or just drink until everything anyone says becomes funny.” She let out a giggle and lifted her head up to look at you.

“Thank you.” she sighed.

“For what?” you wondered, completely confused.

“For being the first person to make me laugh tonight.” She gave you a large grin that was completely replaced with a look of confusion as you both heard loud noises coming from the entryway. She jumped up off her seat to find out where it was coming from and you quickly followed behind her to find a group of guys entering through the front door. Some of the girls who were already a part of the sorority were hugging and greeting their loud guests while some of them started to move inside and pick off the food table.

There was, however, a brunette among the crowd who had his eyes locked with you. His curls were slicked back making his hair look almost wet. He was wearing a baby blue button down shirt and pants that were way too fitting as he stood across the room with his eyes fixed on you. He then offered you a smile and a tiny wave before you averted your gaze and turned towards Hazel, a weird look on your face.

“It’s Alpha Delta Phi, the brother sorority.” Hazel notified you trying to answer the question you had asked in your head.

“Oh, I know that, I just want to know who that guy is. The one who is staring at me.” You glanced over at him quickly so Hazel could know who you were talking about.

“Babe, he’s not staring, he’s checking you out.” She giggled as you could feel the heat rush to your face.

“I don’t care what he’s doing, I want to know who he is.” You snapped at her, but in a friendly way. In a way that made her giggle and put her hand over her mouth.

“That’s Tom, he’s like modern day royalty I swear. He’s loaded.” She informed you causing you to literally roll your eyes.

“What, you don’t like hot rich men?” She giggled again, linking arms with you and dragging you to the food table with her.

“I’m just tired of douchebags, I think.” You popped a grape in your mouth before browsing the rest of the food on the table.

“Oh, he’s not a douchebag. I heard he’s very nice which is why almost everyone here wants to date him. A guy with money who is nice? Unheard of.” She also grabbed a grape and popped that in her mouth before grabbing an appetizer that resembled a wonton and began eating it.

“I wish he would be nice enough to stop staring at me.” You mumbled, glancing over to where the brunette was deep in conversation with another much taller guy. He would occasionally glance over at you, smirk when he caught your eye, and then give his attention back to his friend.

“Are you not into guys?” Hazel asked, throwing you out of your trance as you shook your head in confusion as to why she was asking you that.

“No, I am. Why do you ask that?” You eyed her, obviously intimidating her.

“It’s just that here you have this hot, rich, and apparently nice guy. I just don’t understand how you could not want him to stare at you?” She was making good points, but that didn’t take away from the fact that you were here for one thing only and you didn’t need any distractions.

“I’m just not into dating at the moment. It’s not for me.” This was partially true. To say you had commitment issues would be the understatement of the century. Ever since you watched your parents' marriage fall apart right in front of you, everything having to do with love quickly turned sour. The idea of even settling down caused your stomach to flip upside down and you didn’t think that some rich boy with nice hair could change that. Especially if he was JUST some frat guy.

Later that night you found yourself walking home alone. You didn’t want to waste money on an uber seeing as you needed to save as much money as possible to not only pay your initiation fee, but to also keep up the charade. You also didn’t feel like taking public transportation this late at night so you decided to do what you always do: pretend you are on the phone and walk as fast as your heels would allow you.

It would’ve been a nice night to walk home if it wasn’t so cold and your feet weren’t killing you from standing in your heels all night. There were fairy lights that were strung across each house and the streets were relatively empty. You could hear music coming from various houses on sorority row and see silhouettes of people dancing through the windows. Needless to say, you felt very safe walking home.

You were feeling safe until a black sports car started tailing you. You could hear how fast it was driving prior, but was met with silence when it started going much slower right behind you. You wanted to run into a house, scream, or call for help but you were frozen and just hoped whoever was in that car would leave you alone. You held your breath as the car pulled up to you and maintained its pace with yours as you walked. The window rolled down to reveal the brunette from earlier, the one who was staring you down.

You stopped in your tracks to glare at him. He had that same stupid smirk from earlier on his face and you could tell that he expected it to make you swoon, but it didn’t.

“What? Are you stalking me?” You asked harshly, your night officially being too long.

“No, not stalking you.” He gave you a wide grin. “I promise.” He made a crossing motion over his heart and you had to admit that it was kind of endearing. You, however, chose not to respond, raising your eyebrow and urging him to speak.

“I saw you walking and wanted to see if you needed a ride home.” He offered. “I’m Tom, by the way.” He was cute in a boyish way. His dimples made his eyes wrinkle around the edges and his teeth were straight and white. He looked well put together, like he looked after himself or had someone to do that for him. He looked calm and safe, but don’t most serial killers look calm and safe these days?

“Well, Tom, I’m not supposed to get in cars with strangers.” You teased. “What if you kidnap me?” This earned a hearty laugh from him, his head shaking as he tried to hide his blush.

“I won’t kidnap you, but if it makes you feel safe I could roll the windows down, keep the door unlocked, and drive really slow.” You could tell he was being nice and sincere but you still took caution upon entering his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice and you had to be careful to not let on that you weren’t one of the sorority girls he was used to.

Not to your knowledge, but at the same time you were getting into Tom’s car Millie was walking down the block with the pack of cigarettes that she had previously hidden under the floorboards in her hand. She wouldn’t have recognized you as the girl getting in Tom’s car if it wasn’t for the dress you wore that made you stand out among the crowd. She couldn’t help but smile to herself watching the car drive off with you inside it.

After you told him which dorm you lived in, he kept his promise and drove excruciatingly slow, but you just assumed he wanted to spend more time with you. He didn’t play music and kept glancing over at you to make sure you were okay and comfortable, smiling to himself about how you were playing with your hands and was visibly nervous.

“Why were you walking back home anyway?” He broke the silence, only glancing over at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. You had to come up with a lie and you had to come up with one quickly.

“I just think walking is better for my health, so I don’t have a car.” It was a blatant lie but you thought it sounded shallow enough for him to believe you. “But it was really cold tonight so I’m glad you picked me up, I just canceled my Uber.” He just hummed in response, his long fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

“So you’re rushing KKG?” he wondered, this time not looking over at you at all.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun. Everyone seems so nice.” He let out a loud laugh that actually caused you to jump out of your seat.

“Nice isn’t the first word I would use to describe Kappa girls but I can tell you’re nice enough to try to compliment them.” He told you after he caught his breath.

“Yeah, I mean, I felt like I was definitely being judged but nobody threw me down and started punching me so I assumed they were nice enough.” This time you glanced over at him. You could see the little freckles on this side of his face and the texture on his skin. The tip of his nose turned upwards as he spoke and his lips wer- Ok, no, you were not going to do this.

“That’s your standard for niceness? Someone not throwing you down and punching you?” he asked in a teasing tone.

“Yeah, I think so.” You replied back, watching your dorm room appear in the distance.

“Do you think I’m nice then?” he asked his voice now low and subtly flirty, looking over at you again.

“Hm, maybe. I’d have to get to know you, I think.” You whispered back, smiling as his cheeks changed shades. What the fuck were you doing.

“Well, I’ll show you just how nice I can be.”

That Sunday morning you decided to sleep in, but were rudely awakened by a notification from your phone.

DEAR Y/N Y/L, YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO ROUND TWO AT KAPPA KAPPA GAMMA

LOVE, MILLIE

a/n: i am ashamed to say this took me two days to write not including my outline... but i actually love this plotline and i think it will be a fun challenge to write but i have a lot of scenes mapped out and character boards which i think i will like just make igs for them as a concept andddd yea ok i hope you like... I APPRECIATE ANY AND ALL FEEDBACK MWAH!

taglist and mutuals: @sxfik @olsensnpm @userholland @gwenscindys @spideyspeaches @cocoamoonmalfoy @venomsilk @spvilers @petereading @honeyspidey @spideyobsessed @vendettaparker @erule @4ppurrr @vxid42 @wildholland @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @lovebyceleste @mayal0pez @ariianelle @keanureevesisbae @ghiblijoons @peterparkoure @starstruckspring @willie-ivy @spideyy @seaveysinn @simplyparker @silkscream @silkholland

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sweetpeterparker · 2 years

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tom holland - fics recommendation ✯

the (y/n) lively-reynolds (series) (@liberty-barnes )

→tom holland x famous!reader this is so amazing and funny PLS-

instead of you (series) (@wazzupmrstark )

→tom holland x reader (sam's best friend) (i need updates i need to know what's gonna happen)

bound to you series (@vendettaparker )

→tom holland x reader (royal AU) this is so so good (be ready to get mad at tom though)could talk about it for hours and make lots of parallels with taylor swift songs

miss americana & the heartbreak prince (series) @alltoowelltom

→tom holland x famous!reader/ fake dating/ a lot of taylor swift references... SO GOOD

slow dancing (@saturnpeter )

→tom holland x reader i'm a sucker for a slow dance, this is so cute

painted picture (@tom-holland-parker )

→single dad!tom holland x reader love the single parent trope and his daughter is the cutest ever

the worst best man (@takenbyheartstrings )

→tom holland x reader. reader and tom' s wedding, harrison being the best best man ever

the lakes (where all the poets went do die) (@indouloureux )

→tom holland x reader inspired by the lakes (ts), so good!!

getaway car (@alltoowelltom )

→tom holland x reader THIS! THIS IS ALL I NEED

cold hands, soft love (@togrowoldinv )

→tom holland x reader this feels personal as my hands are always cold

between the lines (@userholland )

→frat!tom holland x reader tw: mentions of divorce, trust issues

people i don't like part one (@totheblood )

→frat!tom holland x reader (college!au, richkid!au)

painful back, fairy fingers (@thollandsdarling )

→tom holland x reader dedicate this one to my constant need of a back massage

shaking (@spideysbae )

→tom holland x reader tw: blood, mentions of anxiety, somehow hurt/comfort

sun kissed (@mirrorwxlls -can't tag them for some reason?)

→tom holland x reader kinda of childhood friends to lovers

lucky i can't say no (@t-lostinworlds )

→tom holland x reader in the history of finding a cat and tom warming up to him SO CUTE ONE OF MY FAVS

secret (@whatevsholland )

→college!tom holland x reader. secret relationship, accidental revelation, "enemies" to lovers

traditions with a twist (@wazzupmrstark )

→tom holland x reader christmas au! meeting tom's parents, gingerbread house contest

he dies in the end (@allfandomxreader )

→tom holland x reader angst with no fluff, hurt/no comfort, what the title says

cabin confessions (@t-lostinworlds )

→tom holland x reader halloween themed, enemies to lovers, forced proximity? SO GREAT

(if you are not comfortable being tagged here, please message me so i can edit this<3)

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duskholland · 3 years

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Taunt (Richkid!Tom Smut)

summary ↠ your relationship with tom is like playing a game of cat and mouse. he’s certain it’ll end with the two of you getting together, you aren’t so sure. — richkids au. warnings ↠ rich people shenanigans, golf, alcohol, jealousy, harry holland is used as a plot device, a fwb arrangement that becomes more, y/n has commitment issues but she is loved, angst with a happy end, hard smut. this fic is nsfw—minors do not interact !! extended smut warnings below the cut. word count ↠ 14.8k. a/n ↠ this was inspired by two amazing golf!tom fics I read last year— a golf lesson by @hollandcrush and the game by @allegra-writes :) both of those fics were exceptional and I have not been able to stop thinking about them since, so please go read both of those! thank you mabel and allegra for introducing me to the sinful side of golf... :) + some ppl get their friends birthday cards, but my gift to the lovely @sinisterspidey for her birthday is this golf!tom smutfic lmfao. chloe !! you have probably forgotten, but when I first conceptualised this (,,in december,,,) you were really helpful with some golf tips. sooo, thank you a) for helping me write this, b) for showing me the beautiful and hot world that is golf!tom, and c) for being a wonderful friend <3 ++ I had the idea for the smut section and constructed this whole elaborate plot just so I could enable myself... worth it? idk lmfao but it was fun !! please pay attention to the warnings !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

smut warnings ↠ unprotected sex including: dom!tom (incl soft + mean), y/n is a brat and gets punished for it, minor sir kink, public sex (unseen + uninterrupted: anxious readers do not fear), a highly inappropriate use of a golf club (incl stimulation but no penetration), degradation, choking, finger sucking, biting, spitting, fingering, oral (both receiving), edging and orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, cumshot. please practice safe sex irl! condoms protect against STIs as well as unplanned pregnancy !!!

✧ *:･ﾟTaunt･ﾟ:*✧

Tom’s mouth is warm against you, his persistent lips meeting with yours over and over again until all you can think about is him; all you care about is him.

“God….” he murmurs, deep voice vibrating against your lips. He brings a hand to cup the side of your face, and you feel yourself gasp as the cool metal of his signet rings brushes up against your cheek. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, darling. Even when you’ve pissed me off beyond belief.”

A smirk flickers out across your face. You disconnect from the heated embrace of Tom’s lips and sit back, your posture straightening as you take in the breathtaking sight before you.

Tom looks very handsome today, even when his eyes carry nothing but frustration. Wrapped in a tight black t-shirt and a pair of green slacks, his outfit is accompanied by the bright silver pop of his Rolex, rings and chain. There’s a glow to his cheeks that goes beyond the angered flush—he’s almost sparkling with the type of freshness only achievable by a good workout regime and an abundance of free wealth. His poise is further emphasised by the determined way his hair is styled from his face, his messy curls tamed into solemn waves. He is gorgeous, even more so than you, and you think his beauty far eclipses anything that’s expected from a country club brunch.

“I didn’t do anything,” you say finally, teasingly running your fingers through his hair. Tom rolls his eyes and reaches up to quickly catch your hands.

“Don’t mess up my hair,” he mutters, squeezing your fingers in his, “do you know how long it took me to get it all flat at the back?”

You manage a shrug. “It looks cute when it’s loose, though,” you whine. He looks softer with his chestnut curls bouncing over his forehead—with it all slicked back, he seems hard, brittle. And Tom isn’t brittle—even if the facade says otherwise.

Tom’s jaw twitches minutely. “I like it loose too,” he says, “but it doesn’t really fit in here, does it?” He tosses a hand into the air, gesturing at the decadent room around you. “Business casual at the club, darling.”

A small snort slips past your lips.

Forest Hills Country Club is the most desirable club in London, and anyone who’s anyone finds themselves a regular at the sprawling estate. You’re currently attending the Saturday morning brunch—though you and Tom have escaped the party and stowed away in an empty secondary living room distant from the party. Even several rooms away, you’re able to hear the celebrations—ears catching the popping of bottles, the light music of the string quartet, and the warbling laughs of the elite clientele. You aren’t upset that you’re missing it. You always go to brunch, but you don’t often get the opportunity to hang around Tom so discreetly. When he’d stalked across the room and pried you off the arm of your date, you’d been pleased.

You’d only come with someone else to get his attention. It’d worked, like always, and now you have exactly what you want: Tom, feeding you attention, cradling your face and kissing your lips.

“God,” Tom mutters. He glides his hands around your waist, briefly skimming his warm palms against the swell of your breasts before moving them back to your face. “You’re so bloody hot…”

You’re sitting on a cabinet, and as Tom nuzzles his face against the column of your neck, the hands on your hips jerk you closer to the edge. Your thighs fall open, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as your hand reaches up to bury in the chestnut mane. Tom steps closer to you, briefly pausing the kisses to your neck as he groans very softly when contact is made between the hard outline of his cock and the front of your crotch. Your dress has risen up in the ten minutes you’ve spent making out with the man, but it works to your advantage as it means you’re able to grind closer to Tom and receive the lightest, most tantalising amount of pleasure to your aching cunt.

“Tom,” you whimper, voice twisting as you feel him suckle on the sensitive part of your neck.

“Hmm?”

“Are you— are you going to fuck me?”

Tom chuckles against your neck. “I don’t know…” he teases. “In here, with the party down the hall? Seems a little risky, darling.”

“I like risk,” you say, “we’ve done worse. Do you remember the sauna?

There’s a brief intermission as Tom laps his tongue across the base of your neck. “I suppose,” he drawls, employing the deep, husky tones of his lower register. His voice has you squirming against the counter he’d so unscrupulously tossed you up against when he’d tugged you into the room. “We’d have to be very quiet, though…”

“I can do that,” you say immediately. Everything feels so hot— so tender, so wet. There’s a tightness in the pit of your stomach, pulsing, teasing, pulsing. “C’mon, Tom… live a little.”

He flexes a neat brow. “Well, if you put it that way…” Tom’s eyes drift away from your face, tilting down to the other side of your neck. You feel a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach as his expression drops. “Wait— what the fuck is that?” Tom pulls back suddenly, his face immediately clouding over. Whatever atmosphere of suspense you’d been constructing shatters easily. He jabs with his index finger, the angry fingertip digging into the spot where your right collarbone joins with your neck. He’s highlighting a hickey, straining obviously against your skin. A hickey left by another man. “Are you taking the piss right now?”

When you’d thought about the possibility of Tom finding the mark, part of you had leaned into it whilst the other had tried to run. It isn’t the first time he—nor you—have been met with such a visible reminder that nothing between you is exclusive. You’ve peeled off his shirt before to find scratches running the length of his back. Part of you feels like a dick for instructing the guy to suck right there, in a spot so prominent it was only a matter of time before Tom found it, but another part… Well, you will admit that it feels sort of good to have him staring at you so viciously. In a muddled, fucked-up way, it’s quite nice to know that he cares.

You try to bite back the smile of victory as you see him flare up at you, his eyebrows pulling together as his eyes simmer with anger.

“That’s a hickey, Tom,” you say annoyingly.

“I know what it bloody is.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Then what’s the issue?”

“You told me you were done with him,” he mutters. “What was his name, fucking… Jack?”

Your tongue skims across your lower lip. “I am done with Jack. Haven’t seen him in months.”

Tom growls. Again, he presses his thumb to the site of the bruised hickey. Your skin is still sensitive, and you hiss as you inhale.

“You are such a brat,” he states. “Who was it, then?”

You shrug. “Don’t know,” you say, craning your neck as you watch Tom continue to press his thumb over the mark. He’s quick with it, almost as if he’s trying to rub it away.

“Can’t have been a good shag then.” Tom glances up at you, raising a brow. “Was it?” You hesitate. The silence tells Tom all he has to hear. “I knew it. Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what…?”

His stare hardens. Tom’s hands move away from your hips as he steps back, placing enough distance between you so he’s able to cross his arms across his chest. As he settles in a position he seems comfortable in, you can’t stop your eyes from flittering between the bright glinting of his watch and the bulges of his biceps.

“Fucking around with men who can’t satisfy you.”

You have to bite your lip. Tom sets himself up so easily it’s almost cruel. “See, I would stop, but you quite enjoy my company, Tom, and I’d feel mean denying you my presence.”

Tom stills. You watch his cheeks bloom with frustration, catch the way he flexes his fingers. A beautifully irritated groan slips past his lips, then he’s moving towards you.

“I am nothing like those pathetic men you entertain yourself with, darling, and you know that as well as I do.”

He’s right. He’s right, and both of you know it. Tom truly is nothing like the men you keep falling back to, keep chasing in the hopes that they’ll glut the deep vacancy his absence causes during the times you’re apart.

When nobody else does, he cares. Tom cares that you’re wasting your nights with people who know your family name instead of your own, understands that the self-destructive tendencies you construct are there because you’re scared, paralysed, terrified of allowing yourself to love someone. He knows that he’s the only person who’s ever come close to breaking you open. He knows you’re fond of him, and you know that he returns the sentiments of fear and adoration you feel every time you look at him.

And you… You just don’t know how to process that. You’ve been burnt by love before, have let people in only to watch as they’ve broken promises and left your trust in tatters. It’s been a long time since you’ve indulged in anything beyond a light dalliance, being selective with who you let touch your heart. It isn’t that you don’t want to be loved. You do. You want to be adored, to be cherished—sometimes yearn for it so badly your chest aches. Yet, it’s easier to keep those thoughts to yourself. Your heart is a delicate ware, and you hide it behind layers of snark and nonchalance. Only someone truly persistent would be able to reach it, which brings you to the root of your problem…

Tom’s hands wrap around your waist again, heavy and firm. As his fingers dig into the skin above your hips, he jerks you closer, so you’re standing just in front of him. His lips move over yours, hot and heavy, parting open when you slip your tongue into his mouth and moan at the taste of bubbly champagne.

“You piss me off so much,” he spits, his voice hard against your lips. “It’s like you make every decision with the intention of trying to annoy me.”

You do.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, “I’m this annoying with everyone.”

Tom suddenly pulls away from your lips, leaving them wetter than before. Both of his hands go to your cheeks, and the rings wrapped around his middle and pinky fingers sting against your skin. He’s so close to you that the tip of his nose strains against yours.

“You are not annoying,” he says seriously. “You are spectacular.” He kisses you again, this time softer. His lips linger over yours as he adds, “and so bloody hot, even when you’re acting like a nightmare.”

Your lips fade into a smile. He softens you. He makes your passion melt and malleable and then reshapes it into something more manageable—something gentler, pink instead of red, warm instead of boiling.

“You always try so hard,” you say. You lift your hands to the collar of his shirt, letting your fingertips slip beneath the stiff fabric and coast behind his neck. “Doesn’t it ever get tiring, being so persistent?”

Tom chuckles. “Sometimes,” he admits. His fingers stroke over your hair before he drops his head, nuzzling his face against the side of your neck. As his lips and tongue pulse across the side of your throat, he continues to speak, “it’ll be worth it, though. Eventually.”

The gelled strands of his hair are stiff beneath your fingers. You enjoy unpicking them, coaxing the softer curls of his chestnut strands away from the hardness.

“How come?”

Tom sighs. His hot breath bursts across your neck.

“You push, and push, and push. It’s like you want to see how far you can go before I decide I’ve had enough,” he mutters. His teeth are cold against your neck, the sharp tips teasing at your skin. “Guess what, darling?” You stay quiet, distracted by the lingering pressure of his mouth. Tom tuts, then digs his teeth into the column of your neck. The sharp bite of pain brings a wave of pleasure to the primal heat between your legs. “I said, guess what, sweetheart?”

Your voice catches. “What?”

Tom smoothes his tongue across the site of the bite. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs. “I’m not. I know you only do this because you’re scared, because you want to pretend that this is a game that you can quit at any moment. And it is a game… it is.” He pauses to press a gentle kiss over the love bite. “But we both know that the only way this ends is with you and me, getting together. It ends with us being in love and being happy. But, and I’ll be honest here, Y/N: I’m getting pretty fucking pissed that you keep stringing this out, darling. So please— please—knock it off. I’m tired.”

He sees straight through you. You can’t decide if it’s horrifying or thrilling. When he looks up at you with eyes so understanding, it’s as if he can read your heart, you settle on terrifying.

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

Tom sighs. He takes a few steps back, and you notice that your skin feels cold without him.

“I’m going back to the party,” he comments, murmuring in a way that draws a shiver down your spine. “You should ditch your date. He’s a twat.”

You rub your fingertips over your arms, trying to draw a flame to the loneliness that unfurls over your skin. “You barely know him,” you murmur.

Tom rolls his eyes. “I know you, Y/N,” he adds. “He’s not right for you.”

You spin a ring around your finger as you avoid his gaze. “Okay.”

He clasps his hands together. “I need to go,” he says, “I have to find my date.”

Your eyes snap up to Tom’s. “Your date?”

He nods. You watch as he tucks his hands into the deep pockets of his suit trousers, his shoulders dropping. “You’re not the only one who needs a partner for these things,” he mutters. Tom pauses to reach for his half-drunk glass of champagne, and you observe the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the rest of the pearlescent liquid. His pink tongue coasts his lips directly afterwards. “And, seeing as you have a habit of declining my invitations, I made my own arrangement.” He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that okay, darling?”

Well, you can’t exactly admit how distastefully his revelation lies in your chest without exposing yourself as a hypocrite, can you?

“Do whatever you want, Tom. I know I do.”

Something like pain flashes across his face, but it’s quickly smoothed away when he reaches up to tuck an unruly strand of hair back into place.

“Alright,” Tom says curtly. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Tom.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to approach you again; has that far-away haze resting in his eyes that usually prefaces vulnerability. He doesn’t, though. You stay still as Tom retreats to the end of the room, your heart seizing as he doesn’t try to look back.

With the heavy close of the door, Tom leaves you alone. At your sides, your hands curl into fists. It’s undeniable that the emotion hanging in your chest is nothing short of misery.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while. It’s nothing unfamiliar.

There are only a few times that you usually meet with Tom. Despite being busy people, your paths routinely cross during tennis practice on Tuesdays, brunches on Saturdays, and a plethora of other, semi-frequent activities at various points during the week. The next to hit your calendar is the fortnightly golf expedition that brings together your family with his. Usually, you’d skip it, but you decide you want to go this week.

After loading your car with a set of golf clubs that barely get to see the light of day, you shoot off a text to your cousin, letting him know that you’re on your way. You go golfing with him and your uncle, accompanying Tom, his twin brothers and his father on the course. Sometimes other friends tag along, but you tend to stick close to Tom or his brother Harry. Harry’s usually very funny. He gets flustered whenever you’re around.

Whilst you’re a competent golfer, you aren’t really keen on it. Maybe you should be better, given the hours you’ve sunk into wandering the course, but you’ve always preferred things that are more immediate, more thrilling. Nothing sounds attractive about chasing a ball around a field for several hours—the only thing that attracts you is the lure of the company.

One of the reasons you’ve decided to tag along today is because you’re restless. Even as you drive through London’s outskirts, you’re unable to sit still in your seat. Your fingernails drum over the leather of the steering wheel, tapping persistently until you drive yourself mad.

Nothing has felt right since last weekend’s brunch—nothing has felt right since Tom swept from the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Stuck alone in that room, you’d found yourself pondering the events until you’d become overwhelmed and had to ditch the party. By the time you’d next checked your phone, it was to a peeved text from your date and two concerned messages from Tom. Both had made you feel worse.

Utterly unrelated to anything that had happened, you’d spent the rest of the day severing every hookup arrangement you’d constructed with other men. Your decision had definitely had nothing to do with the sudden, sickening realisation that each one of your lovers wore a bed of brown curls… You just… You just didn’t find them interesting anymore. You couldn’t ever focus when you were with anyone else, couldn’t find the soaring highs of pleasure you get when you’re with him. They didn’t touch your lips with the same consideration as Tom, didn’t roll their hips with the right amount of gusto. They weren't him.

Fine. Fine. Tom had gotten under your skin. He always does.

Maybe he has a point, anyway. Maybe you are destined to end up together—or, at the very least, are supposed to bridge this gap between infuriating acquaintances and something more.

You’ve long since thought you’re two sides of the same coin. The evidence presents itself everywhere: in the way you have the same favourite type of champagne, and your ability to act as an unbeatable set of doubles during tennis. The way he’s hot when you’re cold, and vice versa. He’s snarky and brash, and so are you, but it fits in a way that’s soft. Nothing about your relationship is abrasive, even when it’s so obviously clear that both of you are sharp. Tom softens you…

…But he also infuriates you. Your annoyance swells to a peak as you make the turning into the country club, your fingers flexing around the leather of the steering wheel.

Who does he think he is, calling you out like that? Speaking about your future? Implying you’ll end up together despite the way your actions suggest anything but?

Tom thinks that he knows everything, thinks he has you nailed down because he’s taken the time to learn the intricate workings of your brain. He has some nerve acting like he understands you—regardless of whether or not he’s aware of how scarily close he seems to know you.

Now, are you sincerely furious? No, perhaps not. But if you think about your last encounter for long enough, it gives you an edge worth pursuing. You love infuriating Tom, thrive off the way the vein in his neck strains against the reddening patches of his skin when you get under his skin. The way his jaw firms as his eyes harden makes you shudder, ignites a heat in the pit of your stomach that demands attention. You crave the fierce placement of his hands on your hips, the spat words of degradation that he laces with equal parts affection and spite. When you push him far enough, he slips into a dominant headspace so obscene you find the memories following you into dreams.

You concoct a plan—a way to push Tom, just a little further, just to see if he can take it. You pull stunts all the time, but nothing as brazen as the scheme you draw up as you drive to the golf course. You tell yourself it’s to get back at him for questioning your judgement, but maybe it’s to see—to check—to disprove the other things he’d said. To challenge his assertion that he’ll still be waiting for you to throw in the towel and let him— what? Love you?

Your chest tightens.

Running on auto-pilot, you find yourself pulling into the car park of the country club, just a few minutes late for the game. Still mulling things over, you’re a little dazed as you clamber from your car, stretching out the tired muscles in your arms and shoulders as your feet make contact with the gravel. The air is plump with the sweet scent of honeysuckle, and you enjoy letting your eyes flutter around the light flowers and deep bushes that line the perimeter of the car park.

Amidst the buzzing bees and crunching gravel, you hear someone call out your name.

“Alright, Y/N?”

Your eyes lift, and as an eager smile spreads across your lips, you find yourself ruffling your hair. It’s Harry, Tom’s younger brother. Dressed in a pair of grey golf shorts and a white polo shirt, his cheeks are a violent shade of red. His flush contrasts the dark, rusted shade of his hair.

“Hi, Harry,” you return. You reach back into your car and haul out your golf clubs. As you stand up and lock your car, you find the boy standing a lot closer to you than he had been before. Your smile becomes perplexed. “Are you okay?”

Harry nods his head quickly. He holds out his hands, an eager grin strapped across his face.

“Can I help you with those?” he asks, tilting his head towards your golf clubs.

“Sure,” you reply. Your back feels a thousand times lighter as he reaches out and shoulders your heavy bag of clubs. Stepping forward, you press a hand to his shoulder as you peck his cheek. “Thanks, Harry.”

The man emits a broken noise, husked suspiciously low. “No— no problem, love.”

Part of you feels bad for writing Harry into your ploy, but he’s just so easy. It’s obvious how flustered he is already as you agree to walk with him to the golf course, his cheeks continuing to burn a bright, visceral red. You try to ease his nerves by making light conversation, asking about his week, learning that he’s been busy working with Tom. The two of them own and run a film studio just on the outskirts of London.

By the time you join the rest of your group, the tension between you has eased, and your mood has brightened. It’s a beautiful day out on the course, with the slopes of the green doused in that wonderfully bright, early-July glow. It’s hot beneath the sun, and you find yourself grateful that you’d opted for a short black skort and a small white t-shirt. Accessorising even in the face of sport, you have a pair of sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose and a gold necklace hanging from around your neck.

“Ahh… The stragglers are finally here. Thanks for joining us at last, Y/N, Harry.”

You scowl playfully as you look at Sam, Harry’s twin. He’s resting back against a golf bag, wearing a pair of chequered trousers and a flat cap. He flashes you a smile before pushing forward, his hand briefly skating over your waist as his lips meet with your cheek.

“Piss off, Sam,” Harry mutters. He high fives his brother with enough force to have the clash ringing through the air.

You find yourself looking around the group. There’s a few of you, mostly men, but your cousin Theo has brought his girlfriend, Annabeth. It’s whilst you’re reacquainting yourself with both of them that you feel Tom’s presence behind you, his shadow enveloping you before you feel him. His hands slip around your waist as you’re talking with Theo and Annabeth, and you lean into his side as he steps up behind you.

“Ahh, Tom,” Theo says, eyeing the man at your side with intrigue in his eyes, “nice seeing you again, chap.”

Tom hums. He rests his chin on your shoulder as he steps a little closer to you. “Pleasure as always,” he murmurs. After pausing for a moment, he moves away from you, allowing you to turn and finally look at him. You feel your breath leave your lungs as you take in the sight of him, glistening beneath the sun.

There are a few things you’ve learnt about Tom in the year that you’ve known him. He likes dogs, he likes the colour red, he has a secret tattoo printed to the bottom of his foot. But by far the most prominent aspect of his personality, and the one hobby he seems to fall back to, over and over again, is his affinity for golf. If he isn’t playing it, you can almost guarantee he’s thinking about it, and his dedication to the art of the swinging club is reflected in how seriously he takes the game. He isn’t superstitious about much, but you’ve come to learn that he never performs as well if he isn’t wearing his lucky outfit: cap—light grey, white writing—long slacks, blue shirt, golf glove, and Rolex.

Somehow, as he stands before you in an outfit you’ve seen a thousand times before, it feels refreshing. There’s a softness in your chest that’s unfamiliar. It makes it hard to breathe.

“Hi,” you blurt out, finding yourself on the receiving end of his deep, inquisitive eyes.

Tom’s eyebrows twitch. “Hey,” he says, an edge of mirth in his voice. “You alright? I didn’t think you liked golf.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t,” you say, “but I thought it was a nice day to try and learn.” Peering around, you raise a hand over your forehead and block out the shine of the sunbeams. “Harry?” you call out, “are you still good for teaching me a thing or two?”

Still with Sam, the other twin turns around quickly. The nod of his head is so enthusiastic it draws laughs from your cousin and Annabeth.

“Harry?” Tom questions. You look back at him, noting his expression has smoothed over, the friendliness gone.

“Yes,” you reply. “I was telling him how I needed some help, and he generously volunteered to teach me.”

“Ah.” Tom’s jaw tenses. “That was nice of him.”

You tilt your head to the side. “It was.”

Annabeth interjects. “He’s a nice boy,” she compliments, “it’s so obvious he’s sweet on you, Y/N.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, feigning bashfulness. “I don’t know,” you drawl, maintaining eye contact with Tom, “I think he’s scared of me. I wouldn’t say it’s a crush.”

“I don’t think so,” Annabeth teases. She smiles before nudging your cousin. “Theo, can you show me the clubs again…”

Left alone with Tom, the man steps forward. You have to bite back a grunt when his hand wraps around your upper arm, and he drops his voice.

“What are you planning, eh?” he murmurs, words charged with intrigue. “You seem… different today.”

“Different?”

“Yes.” Tom nods, and using his free hand, reaches up to ruffle up his curls. The white golfing glove wrapped around his palm looks delightful as it contrasts the smooth metal of his watch. “There’s this… sparkle to you. A glow.” He narrows his eyes. “I know you’re plotting something, so I’ll come out with it now, Y/N.” He moves nearer, the tips of his teeth glinting dangerously. “Do not distract me from my game, or I won’t hesitate to make you regret it.”

A snort slips past your lips before you can stop it. “What, are you going to punish me?” you tease. “Out here, with our families around? Okay, Tom.” You smirk petulantly as you cross your arms over your chest. “I’d like to see you try.”

You love goading Tom, thrive off the way his jaw tenses as his cheeks flush. “Such a bloody brat,” he mutters. “I hope you get me to snap, darling. You’ve been frustrating me so much recently, I’d love to put you in your place.”

It’s almost unnerving how similar your wavelengths are—how quickly Tom seemed to jump onto the devious plan you’ve been concocting. It’s as if he can read your mind. Your sex life has always been fluid, usually characterised by him taking charge and muscling you into scenarios equal parts scandalous and seductive, and you suppose it’s just a testament to how strongly you’ve bonded that he can read you so well. It’s almost flattering how eager he is to oblige you, to play the role of dominant partner when your skin crawls with brattiness.

He fits with you so well it scares you. You’re trying to lean into the fear.

“Okay, Tom,” you say, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible as you shrug. “I’m just here to have a good time.” You glance behind you, noting your group has congregated around the start of the course. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Harry’s waiting for me.”

Tom releases your arm as you brush him off. The imprints of his fingers stay throbbing against your skin, even as you begin to work your way around the course.

Golf is… okay. You appreciate that Harry lingers behind with you. He offers you a few helpful pointers, and you try to take them on board. If you’re being honest, though, your attention is on his older brother.

You are very good at riling Tom up. You find it easy. All it takes is pushing your sunglasses to sit above your forehead and bending over to pick up a few golf balls, and you have him on a leash. You’re wearing your skort high on your hips, and Tom’s cheeks darken every single time you stretch over or fiddle with the hem. His eyes are equally poisonous—rippling with intense ferocity each time you brush your hand over Harry’s upper arm or lean a little bit closer to the boy. It knocks Tom off his game, to the point where he’s having to crack jokes and excuse his lack of performance with comments about a headache.

You aren’t cruel with anything that you’re doing. You know Harry’s got a soft spot for you, so you try your best not to do anything to seriously harm him. You just lean into him a bit, let him reposition your hips as he guides your swing. There’s a point where he ends up behind you, arms around you, hands resting over yours as he guides you through the swing. There’s a decent amount of space between you, but from Tom’s angle, you’re sure it looks a lot closer than it is. If the way his cheeks flame as he smashes his next shot is any indication, it does.

After about eight holes, you find yourself growing tired. As far as you’ve been pushing Tom, he’s refused to engage in the way you’ve wanted. All that’s happened is he’s ruffled up his hair, grown a little taller, and developed a stiff jaw. All that’s happened is he’s made you horny.

And you really can’t be the one on the back foot, so you change your angle. Moving your attention away from Harry, you excuse yourself and decide to partner up with Tom.

“Tom,” you whisper, leaning close to him. You’re lagging at the end of the group, everyone else waiting to take the first shot on the next hole. Tom’s crouching on the ground as he rummages through his golf bag, the metallic clubs clinking. “Tommy.”

Very slowly, he looks up at you. From beneath his lashes, Tom stares up at you. “What?” The bite to his voice makes you shudder.

“I need you,” you whine. You reach up to tug at the sleeve of his shirt. “Now.”

You watch as he bites at the inside of his cheek. He stands up, a new club in his hand. “I’m playing golf, Y/N,” he mutters, skimming his thumb over the crown of the club. “I’m busy trying to win.”

You lick your lips, letting your fingers go for a walk along his shoulder. “You’re not doing so well, though,” you taunt. Blinking innocently, you sweep your hair away from your face and subtly extend your neck. “Don’t you want to go and do something with a guarantee of success?”

Tom rolls his eyes. He’s called up to tee, but leans closer to spit into your ear before he goes. “Just because you’re an easy lay doesn’t mean I can get all the satisfaction I need from you.”

You exhale quickly, surprised by how he’s let his snarling remarks slip into public. “Shit,” you mutter, “are you actually angry?”

He raises a brow. “This is the worst performance I’ve put in all season,” he says, “it’ll ruin my average. Yes, darling. I’m mad.” Tom lets his teeth close around your earlobe as he bites. You whimper at the sharp ache. “Knock it off.”

Always the slippery charmer, Tom decides to couple his hard words with a soft kiss on your cheek. As he walks up to take his shot, you’re left aching.

Things are more desperate now—you’re more desperate. More reckless, more needy. Your earlobe throbs, and you find yourself clinging to Tom’s side.

Working slowly, you build up your teasing. It’s all very subtle—a few stray touches to Tom’s shoulders and his arms, a few light comments about his form. You change your posture so you’re taller, let your laughs roll freer. Tom always likes it when you smile, so you try your best to keep up with the group and toss in a few jovial comments. As you entertain your company, you’re constantly touching him, constantly teasing him, constantly clinging to him. You hope you’re overwhelming him as much as the scent of his cologne is overwhelming you.

With your eyes on the prize, you throw everything you have into teasing Tom until he breaks. You want a hole in one—it just isn’t the type that everyone else around you is striving for—and, eventually, you win. It’s hard to tell what it is that finally pushes him over the edge, but somewhere between reapplying your lipstick and letting your fingers tug at the curls sprouting from the root of his neck, Tom finally bends.

When he steps up to take a shot at the 11th hole, Tom smacks the ball with so much force the air around you lights up with the shocking sound of metal on plastic. You gasp slightly from the suddenness of it. The flex of his bulging biceps is obscene, but that pales in comparison to the stunned realisation that Tom’s hit the ball in the wrong direction entirely. You watch the white object soar through the air, careening to the far left of the course before becoming lost in the thicket of trees and bushes that line the route. There’s no doubt in your mind that it was purposeful.

“Oh no,” Tom mutters monotonously. “That was so far out.” He pauses, voice flat as he turns to look at you. His eyes are aflame. “Y/N,” he calls out, loud enough for everyone to hear, “could you please come with me? I think I’ll need another set of eyes to find that ball… It’s gone right into the shrubbery.”

A soft pout sprawls across your lips. “Ahh,” you say. “That’s a shame, Tom. You’re usually so good at golf.”

His lips press into a firm line. “Well, I’ve been a little bit off my game today.”

You nod understandingly. “I’m sure you’ll be better next time.”

Tom’s mouth twitches. Before he can snarl out whatever remark he has curled on the tip of his tongue, his father interjects. “Tom, just leave it. We have a hundred balls here.”

Tom shakes his head. “That was my lucky ball,” he reasons, “I need it. You lot can keep going around the course… We’ll rejoin when we’ve found it. It just might take us a while to find it…”

A round of hums and agreements flies around the group. No one seems to find anything suspicious, not even when Tom hurriedly tosses his golf bag over his shoulder and grabs your hand. You have just enough time to give Harry your bag before you’re being pulled behind Tom, his actions pointed, forceful. He leads you up the nearest hill, towards the thicket of trees that line the course.

“You’ve done it now, Y/N,” he mutters. His hand is so hot against yours. “Congratulations. You’ve bloody won.”

Relief swells in your chest. “What did I win?” you ask.

Tom is striding ahead so quickly that you find yourself almost tripping over your feet as you try to keep up with him. “My full and undivided attention,” he spits. His eyes are almost black as he twists around to look at you. “I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “I think that’s exactly what I wanted.”

Exhaling, Tom continues to lead the way. He’s quiet for a while, silent as he drags you up the hill, only slowing when he nears the top. He stops suddenly, releasing an unsteady sound as you crash into him. “Sorry, love,” he mutters. His voice is softer, and as he glances back at you, the fire in his eyes dampens. “You are in a rough mood today, right?” he checks. He’s open, willing to listen to the boundaries that both of you know have to be set before you engage in any sort of intimate activity.

“Yes,” you plead, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Tom slips both of his hands into yours, thumbs brushing over the back of your hands. “Anything?”

You nod. “Anything.”

“Come up here, then,” he murmurs, continuing to lead you up the hill. “You owe me for absolutely decimating my average. I got— fucking bogeys. God.” Tom shudders. “I’m almost as bad as Harry.”

You reach the top of the slope and step closer to kiss his cheek. You’re equal parts guilty and endeared that you’d had such an effect on him. “Let me make it up to you?”

Tom just scoffs. “Unless you can pretend to be me and somehow complete the rest of the holes with an eagle or two, that’s bloody impossible,” he says, spouting more golf jargon that makes your head hurt. “No,” he adds, “but I know what you can do. It’s the least you can do, actually, for teasing me like a little attention whore all day.” When you suck in a breath, he nods. “Yeah, princess. I know what you are.”

You swallow dryly. You feel hot, pulsing with energy as neediness tingles in the tips of your fingers. “I couldn’t help it,” you whine, “you looked so good, Tom.”

“Get down,” he mutters. “Get on your knees, Y/N.”

Flames roar across you. “W- What?”

Tom flexes a brow. “You heard me.” He steps closer. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

“...Right here?”

He surveys the course. “Over there,” he clarifies.

Tom leads you to an abandoned sand bunker. You’ve merged with the practice course, separated from the main holes by a thick line of trees and bushes. The practice holes are closed today, and there isn’t another soul around. Even if the course wasn’t deserted, the bunker is angled in such a way that you could be on your knees in front of Tom and you’d be completely hidden from view. The only angle anyone could see you from is if they’re approaching from behind, but you trust Tom enough to keep an eye out.

With this knowledge under your belt, you find yourself smirking.

“And what if I don’t want to, Tom?” You cross your arms over your chest as you rock back on your feet. “Who said I wanted to do anything for you, hm?”

He reaches out towards you without a second thought, and his gloved hand wraps around your throat. You can just about make out the glint of his Rolex, wrapped around tan skin before you become distracted by the way his fingers squeeze the sides of your neck. The pressure is delicious.

“Do you really want to keep this up?” he challenges. “Really?”

The contact on your throat makes your cunt tingle, and you absently release a high whine. You would push back, but Tom’s already red, already grunting. You’ve already gone as far as you can go.

You shake your head. He hums.

“I didn’t think so.” Suddenly, he releases your throat and moves his hands to your shoulders, pushing you until your knees yield. You sink into the sandy bunker, grunting when grains of sand dig into the sensitive bumps of your knees. “Shit.” Tom’s hand shifts to your cheek, and he tilts your head up so you can meet his eyes. “You look so fucking pretty down there, on your knees for me, where you should be. Where I know you love to be. That’s right, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been acting out. Because you’ve missed me.”

You tilt your head to the side, chasing the curve of Tom’s thumb. When you envelop his fingertip with your lips, he’s quick to plug your mouth with it.

“Yeah,” he mutters. He gently starts to thrust his finger into your mouth, slow, controlled. “You fucking missed me.”

He stops his movements and drags his finger from your mouth, wiping it dry on the side of your cheek. Before you can complain, Tom’s unbuckling the front of his trousers and tugging on his boxers, replacing the emptiness in your mouth with his cock, full-mast and weeping. You’ve barely got enough time to part your lips before he’s fucking past your lips. Roughly, Tom pushes his crown then his sheath all the way into the hot heat of your mouth until you have the curls of his pubes brushing up against the tip of your nose.

You moan softly, drawing a hearty moan from the man above you. With both of his hands moving to grab the back of your head, he starts to guide you, harshly pulling you back and forth along his shaft. He’s messy with it, rough, persevering even when you gag. He knows you like it rough.

“That’s it,” he mutters. “Take it. There you go. Oh, fuck yeah.”

With shaky hands, you reach up and rest your palms on his thighs. You can feel the thick muscles flexing and shaking every time you go deeper, responding when you slow, when you pick up speed. When you teasingly pull back and kitten-lick across his tip, Tom’s legs tense again, only to relax when he pushes your head back down and fills your mouth completely.

“Don’t fucking test me,” he says, voice gruff. “You think you have any space left to bargain after the stunt you pulled out there? God.” He’s flushed, fingers jagged in your hair. “Prancing around in that ridiculous skirt, doing everything you could to drive me up the bloody wall.” Tom tugs at your hair until you whine. “Shit, you looked so good…” He pauses, giving you an up and down glance. “You look better now, though. On your knees, in the middle of this golf course where anyone could see you, sucking my cock like the greedy little slut you are.”

He thrusts into your mouth particularly harshly, and you find yourself pulling back, desperate for air. Tom lets you slip back, watches through amused, half-closed eyes as you pant for breath, your chin slick with spit, lips inflamed. You run your tongue around your lips, failing to clean up the mess, and Tom smoothes both of his hands around to the front of your face, his glove stiff like leather, his other palm soft.

“Open,” he says, drumming his thumbs across your lower lip. He wrenches your mouth open, bending over until his face is suspended above yours. When he purses his lips, you open your mouth wider, extending your tongue in time for him to spit into your open mouth. As his spittle seeps across your tongue, you try to stop yourself from melting. It’s warm and wet, tastes of mint and him.

Tom raises a brow.

“Thank you,” you say immediately, voice hoarse, throat scratchy. “Thank you, sir.”

He moans softly before guiding himself back into your mouth. “Good girl… Pretty girl.” Hands back in your hair, Tom pushes you quickly, thrusting with more purpose. “Oh fuck,” he mutters. “Shit. Such a hot mouth, ‘m gonna blow it if you keep that up.”

You hum around his shaft. Just when Tom’s starting to buck against you, you loosen your jaw and go deeper, and then, he peaks.

Looking above you, the moment Tom spins into climax is a sight that sticks in your memory. He looks so majestic as he unravels, his mouth falling open as his head falls back. Whilst his hands fist at your hair, he continues to thrust into your mouth, his cock pulsing as he cums across your tongue. You swallow around him, continuing to suck, even as it gets messy, drawing it out for him until he moans and pulls away.

“Oh fuck, “ Tom pants. “Christ.” His eyes are bright, glassy. He blinks as if he’s dazed, then gazes down at you adoringly.

“Good?” you ask, slowly becoming aware of the numbness in your knees.

“Fucking spectacular,” Tom corrects. His hand skims over the side of your face. “Get up,” he asks, then gives your cheek a light tap before stepping back and providing you with some space to rise to your feet. A soft grunt slips past your lips as you stand up, your legs aching. There are grains of hot sand straining against the tender skin of your kneecaps, gritty and pulsing, their imprints aching even after you dust them off.

“Ow,” you mutter, staring down at the dimples pressed into your knees.

Tom reaches out and wraps a heavy hand around the top of your arm. When you look back at him, you see that he’s tucked his cock back into his trousers. The tips of his teeth flash as he reels you closer.

“Gimme a kiss, darling,” he coos. When he’s lingering in front of you, he puckers up his lips dramatically, staring at you insistently until you step forward to plant a kiss on his mouth. Tom hums against your lips, and you let his tongue slip into your mouth when you feel the wet tip press up against your lips. He groans as your tongue mingle, and you find your fingers weaving into his hair.

“Can you taste yourself on me?” you whisper against his lips. When Tom moans, you feel him kiss you with more strength. With one hand resting on your cheek, the other grabs at your waist, fingers squeezing at your skin until you whimper.

“Shit,” Tom moans. He pulls back from you to pant against your mouth. There’s a beautifully bright flush resting over his cheeks, and he looks exceptionally gorgeous doused in the light from the sun. “Come with me, right now…”

His hand is strong as he weaves it in yours and starts to jerk you across the course, pausing only to reach down and grab his sets of clubs. The heavy bag jingles over Tom’s back, brushing up against your side as he tugs you over the green.

“Ow,” you say again, feeling the heavy bag colliding with your side.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, glancing back to shoot you an inquiring smirk. He raises a brow. “Actually, I don’t know why I’m apologising,” he adds. “I know you like getting knocked around.”

The velvet tones to his voice bring on a fresh wave of heat, and you feel the space between your legs pulse as you stumble after him. “Shut up, Tom,” you whine.

He glances back at you. “Am I wrong?”

The bite of your lip is all the confirmation that he needs.

Tom takes you across the course, away from the groups of people dotted around the green. You can’t see anyone you recognise and conclude that your group must have moved on to a few holes up. You briefly wonder if they’ll find your absence strange, but that thought fades as the man holding your arm pulls you into a small golf shack.

It’s just a storage shed, made up of white painted planks and housing a few cabinets and a lawnmower. The door is rickety and creaks as Tom slams it shut behind you. You barely get a second to take in the lack of decoration before he’s holding your waist and pushing you up to sit on top of the cabinet, your thighs falling open around his waist as he slots his lips against yours again.

He makes out hungrily with you for a while, the coarse leather of his glove brushing up around the side of your face as he holds you in place. Tom’s lips are hard, bruising and fierce as they devour your mouth. His hold on your face isn’t as angry as it’d been as he’d thrust his cock down your throat, but his actions are still riddled with frustration so prevalent it makes you squirm. By the time he pulls away, you’re panting, soft whimpers slipping past your lips every time he squeezes your waist particularly harshly.

“Shit,” Tom murmurs. One of his hands slips down to rest against your thigh. “I can feel you shaking, baby…” He looks up to meet your eyes, a cocky dominance pooling in his gaze as he smirks. “Whining like a little bitch in heat.”

Your eyes widen. A stark pang of humiliation rolls down your spine, curling uncomfortably between your legs and manifesting itself as arousal.

“Tommy,” you complain, voice cracking slightly, “don’t say that.”

He shifts his hand up to press against the crotch of your skort. Even with the layer of material, the pressure of his fingers nudging up against your slit makes you moan. He catches the eager sound with his lips as he kisses you again.

“What?” he murmurs, “are you telling me if I take a look between your legs right now, I won’t find you wet?” Tom’s teeth catch at the curve of your lower lip. “I don’t think that’d be right, princess.” He continues to gently pad his fingers across the front of your centre. “I think I know you a lot better than you think.”

You can’t stop the soft moans from pouring past your lips, especially when Tom moves the hand away from your thigh and tucks it beneath the top of your skirt. He wriggles his fingers down, clumsily working against the silky fabric before he manages to cup your cunt, bare against his palm, hot, pulsing, tender.

“Tom, oh my— shit,” you splutter, trying not to let your moans split into your words. Your skort doesn’t give much room to work, but Tom’s able to curl his fingers down to your entrance, dip the tips in the pool of your arousal, then spread your heat to your clit. He’s moaning against your neck as he teases your bud with his fingers.

“Aww.” Tom separates from your neck to kiss the bottom of your jaw. “You’re so wet, lovie. Still shaking. You’re so silly.”

He’s teasing you, fingertips light, skimming away from your centre when you try to buck down against them. “Please don’t tease me,” you whimper.

Tom laughs easily. “You underestimate me,” he coos, “do you really think I’m going to give you anything you want after the stunt you pulled out there? Thought you’d have learnt some fucking manners when I fucked your throat raw back where anyone could see you... I guess not.” Finally, his fingers connect with your clit properly, hot and eager as they stroke across the bud. It’s engorged and sensitive, and the stimulation has you grabbing handfuls of his back as you scramble to get a hold of yourself. “No, baby. You don’t get to cum. I don’t even think I’ll fuck you.”

Your breath hitches. “No,” you whine, “please, Tom.”

He’s still stroking your clit, still coaxing you closer to an edge that now feels so far away.

“No.” When Tom adds his lips to your neck, it drives you mad. Your arousal drips from your hole, your cunt fluttering around nothing. You curl your hands around Tom’s biceps, continuing to moan as you feel him toy with your clit, fingers unceasingly trailing over your lips and your bud, stimulating you just how you like it.

“Tom,” you add, feeling the heat suddenly twist, “‘m gonna cum.”

He stills his fingers. The whine you emit draws a chuckle past his lips.

“Finish the job yourself, then, if you want it so badly,” he purrs. Tom keeps his fingertips by your clit, pulling back to look at you questioningly. “Go on,” he urges, “get yourself off on my fingers like the needy little slut you are.”

Part of you wants to argue with him, but you find your brattiness fading as your hips instinctively buck down against his fingertips. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper.

It’s humiliating to sit them, grinding down on his fingers, on the receiving end of a very hard stare from Tom who watches you like you’re some kind of spectacle. It takes a while for you to build up to the edge again—Tom wasn’t messing around when he said you’d be working solo. He’s there only as a passive observer, his fingers drenched in your juices and providing you with the perfect board to rut down against. He spits degrading comments into your ear as you hump against his hand, only seems to shy away from actually touching you. If you thought you were good at teasing, he’s truly something else.

Eventually, you find the edge, but when you vocalise that you’re close, he’s quick to pull his hand away completely. Tom pushes his fingers into your mouth before you can complain, eager to plug your desperate pleads as you shift from side to side, craving contact with your bud.

“There you are,” he murmurs, “suck my fingers. That’s it. It’s okay.” His other hand strokes below your eye, and you wonder what he thinks of the desperate tears that pool in your orbs. “I haven’t even done anything, baby.” He moves the hand from your cheek and rests the back of his hand against your forehead. “Shit,” he adds. “You’re burning up.”

Tom looks away from you for a moment. The devious smirk he has on his face makes you shudder.

“Stay still,” he continues, “I have an idea.”

When he pulls away from you, leaving your mouth empty, you struggle to pant for breath. “Tommy,” you say quickly, “I’m sorry. I— I shouldn’t have teased you. I’m sorry. Please… Please don’t leave me like this. Don’t you… Don’t you want to fuck me?” You watch through heavy eyes as Tom crouches and starts to rummage through his golf bag.

“Should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you decided to throw my game,” he returns, voice light, teasing. The sounds of the clinking golf clubs make you shudder. “I do want to fuck you,” he adds, “but you’re barking mad if you think I’m giving you anything you want right now. I’m not pleasing you, I’m playing with you. I’m punishing you.”

You emit a light moan. Your legs are shaking, arousal hot and thick as it lines your slit. You bite at your lips as you try to regain your composure. “How are you going to do that when we’re out in the middle of nowhere?” Usually, punishment with Tom involves handcuffs and blindfolds. All you have in the shed is a lawnmower and a bunch of rusty tools.

This fact doesn’t seem to perturb Tom—he just smirks as he glances back at you. “Modern problems involve creative solutions,” he mutters. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll have a good time. You’ll probably enjoy it too. It’s just about as deranged as I know you usually enjoy.”

A fond smile twists across your lips. “Did you know that you can be really elusive sometimes?”

Tom hums. “Just adds to the charm.”

“Makes sense. You are a very charming man.”

You can only see the side of his face from where you’re sitting, but you’re fairly sure his cheeks develop a rosy flush. You catch him biting at his lip until it’s faded, and the cuteness of the interaction brings a smile to your face.

Tom clears his throat. “Here we go…” He pulls a long club from the top of his bag. As the handle extends, revealing inch after inch of glistening metal, you find your eyes widening.

Are they always that long…?

“Don’t look so panicked,” Tom adds, expression softening. He stands up and moves over to you, gloved hand skimming across the thin metal handle. He pauses, tauntingly pressing the bulbous head of the club up against your cheek. It’s an iron, so one side is slightly curved, the other flat. You whimper at the sensation of cool metal to your skin. “It’s new,” he explains. “Never touched anything, never even seen daylight.” The expression that webs itself across his face is so scandalous it makes you squirm. “It still needs to be broken in.”

You find yourself gulping. You look between the club and Tom before letting your lips settle into a confused pout. “If you think for even one second you’re going to put that in me—”

Tom dissolves into a barking laugh before you can finish your sentence. “No, no, no, sweetheart. No. Don’t be silly.” He brings the head of the iron to your lips, silencing you with the heavy metal. Tom smirks as the tip wobbles your lower lip. “I wouldn’t ever put anything in you… I’m just going to have some fun. Is that okay?”

When he moves the head away from your lips, you glance down at the metal, then look back up to inspect the dark expression hanging over Tom’s face. He looks so handsome, with his jaw sharp and his eyes focused.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly. “That’s okay.”

“Mhmm? Are you sure?” Tom reaches up to cup your cheek, peering into your eyes inquiringly. “Tell me what our system is again, yeah?”

It’s hard to maintain your focus, especially when he moves the head of the iron to roll up and down your thigh. “Green means keep going, orange means take a break, red means stop.”

“Good job, darling.” Tom looks between your legs. His hands press your thighs apart, and he gently guides the club until the head is nestled against your crotch. You cry out at the pressure. You’re sensitive from the edge, your clit still throbbing, and even the sensation of cold metal against your covered bud makes you shiver. “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you?” he teases. “I wonder how long you’ll last before you lose it.”

You’re breathing heavily. “Not long.”

Tom gently grinds the club against you, and you can’t stop yourself from bucking down against the pressure. It isn’t comfortable—it’s hard, cold. But it’s something, and you find yourself chasing the stimulation no matter how blunt the contact is.

“Tell me what it feels like.”

You swallow to line your throat. “Cold,” you say, “I’m really— really hot, and it feels so cold. So good. Like ice.”

Tom hums. He surprises you by suddenly pushing the club into your hand. His deft fingers move between your legs, separating your thighs even further before he grabs the front of your skort. With a quick tug, he manages to rip through the silky material, parting the shorts and revealing the fact that you’d opted against panties. As the cool air of the shed wafts across your flushed centre, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan.

“That’s so much better,” he announces. Tom continues to widen the slit until you’re fully on display, and he pushes the material away from your slit completely.

“Tom,” you manage, “that was my favourite skort.”

He very quickly presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll get you a new one,” he promises, “sorry.”

You melt. “It’s— okay.” You find yourself distracted as he plucks the club from your shaking hand, then watch through heady eyes as he shamelessly admires the sight of your cunt, open and hot, undoubtedly wet and lined with arousal that he’d drawn from you.

“Keep these apart,” he instructs, tapping at your inner thigh with a hand. He meets your eyes and raises a brow. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Good, love. Good…” He squeezes your thigh. “If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll rethink fucking you…”

You nod your head quickly. You feel hot, everywhere, arousal crawling over your skin. It’s wet between your legs, fuzzy in your chest, fervent in your brain.

“Please, please—” Your breath hitches, words failing as Tom separates your pussy lips with two of his fingers. You shuffle so your legs are wider, only getting an inkling of what he intends to do when he’s halfway through the action. With wide eyes, you watch as he brings the flat side of the iron up to nestle between your folds, resting it gently over the front of your cunt, head pressing against your clit.

It’s so cold. The metal is harsh, bites up against your tender skin. The contact draws a loud, whimpering whine from your mouth, and that makes Tom coo.

“Fuck,” he mutters, looking at the spot between your legs. His eyes are dark as he testingly shifts the club from side to side, gently, gently teasing your bud with aching pressure. It’s so metallic and so chilly that a part of you wonders if the temperature is enough to riddle you completely numb to all sensations. Luckily for you, Tom brings it away from your centre after only about ten seconds, your slick sticking to the bottom of the club. “You made it messy, princess. Clean it up for me, yeah?” Tom brings it up towards your face. When you stick out your tongue, he nudges it forward.

“Careful,” you warn, moving back slightly when he comes in a little too strong. “Please don’t knock my teeth out.”

A gentle blush tickles at his cheeks. “Sorry,” he mutters, voice dipping and becoming slightly bashful. “I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you.”

With the hand not holding the golf club, Tom reaches to your thigh and gives your skin a gentle tap. It’s soft enough to remind you that he’s still Tom, he still cares for you, he still prioritises your well-being. You don’t hesitate to lean forward and wrap your lips around the wide head of the metal.

It’s a tight fit. The club isn’t too large, but it’s heavy, and the shape is awkward. It becomes a lot easier when Tom passes you the handle, and you’re able to angle it in a way that works. After a few attempts, the head fits completely into your mouth, and you moan as the tang of metal rubs up against your tongue.

“There you go,” he soothes. “I know how much you enjoy having something in your mouth, baby. Doing so good for me, princess. So good…” Tom steps back. He tugs at your hips and coaxes you down from the cabinet, hands supporting your shaky legs as you struggle to stand. “Stay right there,” he adds, “I want to have some fun.”

It turns out fun involves Tom’s hands and mouth roaming around your cunt, driving you closer to the edge, over and over again, just to pull away when you’re squirming. On his knees, he edges you repeatedly, alternating between fucking your cunt with his tongue and swirling the tip of it around your clit. When he decides to change things up, he crooks his fingers into you, starting with his one, then moving to two, then three, curling up against your g-spot and stroking until it feels like you’re gushing arousal.

As he pulls you apart, you’re forced to stay still against the counter, holding the club in your mouth. It acts almost like a ball gag, allowing spit to pool around the bulbous head before it drips down your chin. The burn of humiliation only spurs you on, encourages you to grind down against Tom’s fingers with more fervour, even when the tactic only ends up backfiring as he jerks the orgasm away from you before you’re able to spill into it.

It feels endless, uncontrollable. You lose count of the number of times Tom pushes you to the edge only to teasingly jerk it away from you. He dangles the precipice of pleasure in front of you so cruelly that it brings you to tears. They flow down your cheeks, muddying your mascara, leaving your face a convoluted mess of tears, spit, and sweat.

“Shit,” Tom whispers, looking up at you from beneath his lashes, “you’re so beautiful.”

After what must be at least twenty minutes, he finally pulls away from you, standing up but keeping three of his fingers wedged inside your entrance. They’re still, and you find yourself clenching desperately around them. Tom smirks as he reaches up and gently removes the club from your mouth, releasing your lips from the stretch and causing you to exhale. His eyes are dark as he stares at its head.

“You got it nice and wet for me, baby, well done.” The praise has your ears perking, hopefulness flooding the cavity in your chest. Tom tilts his head to the side. “And… I suppose you took your punishment well enough. Maybe I will let you cum, or maybe I’ll fuck you. What do you want more?”

Numbly aware that it’s a trick question, you find yourself relying on your gut instinct.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say, words desperately falling together. “Need you to fill me up, Tommy.” You find your cunt clenching around his fingers. “I need you so badly.”

And he smiles, then redirects his hands to his trousers. “Well,” Tom says, glancing back at you, “I can’t ever really say no to you.”

When he steps forward and finally sheaths himself inside you, part of your soul ascends heavenwards. Tom’s quick to spin you around and take you from behind as your hands sprawl out across the countertop, fingers curling into fists. He fucks you hard and fast, both hands on your hips as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts. The feeling of him pressing you open is indescribably good, only growing better when he angles himself right and knocks the tip of his cock against your g-spot.

Your composure is quick to slip. It doesn’t take long until you’re squirming against the counter, tears flowing down your cheeks as you fail to comprehend how good it feels to finally have him buried to the hilt. Things only get better when he starts to instruct you.

“Reach down and touch your clit for me, darling… That’s it. Shit.” He breaks off to chuckle. “You just got so tight for me. Such a wet, tight cocksleeve.” His voice is thick, hanging heavy with lust. “You’re such a gorgeous sight right now, such a wreck for me… I think I want to feel you cumming around me.”

You sob with relief. “Please,” you beg. Your fingers are light over your clit, trying desperately to avoid pushing yourself over the edge too soon. It’s so hard to keep yourself controlled when he’s pounding into you so well. “Please, Tommy, please.”

“Okay,” he groans, “you can cum. C’mon, good girl. Let go.”

You spin into it before you can get a proper hold on yourself, cumming with a broken cry of his name. Your fingertips catch at your palms, squeezing hard, but not even that can stop you from dissolving. Pleasure pours over you in unforeseen waves, pulling you down into the darkness as you curse and repeatedly spit his name. Tom does a good job of holding you in place and keeping your hips against the cabinet, but even he finds himself slipping.

You’re still climaxing when you feel him release too, shooting his load into your pulsing passage with an exhalation of your name. His desperation spurs you on, has you continuing to play with your bud even as it starts to ache, even when Tom pulls out from you. You’ve still got your hand on your cunt as Tom spins you around and kisses you messily. His arm curls between you, and he replaces your hand with his own, fingertips coarse against the sensitive rise of your bud.

“Still needy?” he murmurs, voice dark, rich.

You nod your head. You feel insatiable. Even with his cum beginning to drip from your clenching hole, you need more. “Not enough,” you ramble. Your lips are so sore from the biting, but the ache puts you further on edge. “More, Tom. Please.”

Tom nods. “Stay still,” he says, and pushes you back against the counter. This time you’re facing him, able to watch as he sinks to a kneel between your legs and pushes your thighs aside. “I’ll give you enough.”

He doesn’t give you any warning before burying his face in your centre, barely giving himself enough time to part your lips with his fingers before his tongue is clumsily knocking against your clit. You cry out loudly, your hands squeezing around the side of the cabinet as Tom curls his fingers back inside you. Your cunt is wet from arousal and his cum, and the noises he draws from you as he pistons the slender curves of his digits into you are nothing short of obscene.

“Oh my— fuck,” you whimper, words tumbling together. You can barely stay still, have to rely on Tom’s sharp elbows jabbing your thighs apart to stop your legs from clamping around his head. “Holy shit, Tom. It’s— it’s so much.”

He moans into your front, vibrations curling across every part of you. The contrast in textures against your clit drives you crazy—to go from his fingers, to the club, to the warm, wet expanse of his tongue has your eyes rolling—but it’s nowhere near as sensitive as your walls feel now, still recovering from the earth-shattering orgasm a few moments prior. As he continues to stroke three fingers up against your back wall, he suckles and teases your clit, sloppily enveloping the bud and toying with it.

You just can’t keep still. Your legs feel like jelly, your hands hot and slippery. You’re hot and cold, taut and relaxed, merely floating behind him as Tom tugs you towards the precipice of a high so blinding you can see it from a mile off. Everything is so slick, and you’re certain both his hand and his face must be drenched from your heat..

“C’mon, princess,” he urges, mouth briefly disconnecting from your heat. He stares up at you, cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide. “Let go f’me, pretty girl. I know you want to spill. I can feel you fucking trembling. Don’t hold back. Cum.”

His mouth is back on your bud, just in time with a particularly powerful stroke of his fingers, and you feel everything go rigid. Time stops, and the tightening of the coil in your stomach syncs with the overwhelming sensation of something building. Overwhelmed and panting, you toss your head back, your knuckles losing blood as you squeeze at the handle of the club and cum—hard.

Everything blurs out—sight, scent, audio. Nothing matters but the stroke of his fingers and the warmth of his mouth, and you let the pleasure roll over you until you’re numb to it. Amidst the frenzy, you feel something release, something wet, plentiful. You can’t find the drive to think about it, too focused on grinding down against Tom, but when it clears and he pulls away with an unfamiliar expression on his face, you find yourself wondering what just happened.

“Holy— shit,” Tom mutters. You watch him sit back, then take in the way his hands seem to glisten. He looks at his fingers as he parts his index and middle, watching your arousal stick between them. “That was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

“What— what did I do..?” you pant, dazed, spinning. You feel like you’re floating, have to move both hands back to grip the side of the counter as you struggle to recover.

Tom stands up. He briefly sucks off his fingers before wrapping his arms around your waist, supporting you effortlessly as he hums.

“You squirted,” he says, voice curving around the word. As your eyes widen, he chuckles. “Took me by surprise.”

“Oh my god,” you say. You feel hot again, but for an entirely different reason. “I’m sorry—”

His eyes widen. “No, no, no.” Tom shakes his head, coy smile on his face. “It was so hot. Don’t apologise.” He nudges his lips against the tip of your nose.

A relieved laugh slips past your lips. The guilt softens. “Okay,” you say, “if you say so…”

Tom nods. He very gently peels away from you, excusing himself only to crouch by his bag and rummage through it before pulling out a small packet of tissues. Sheepishly, he offers them to you.

“For you,” he adds.

“Thank you.”

Smiling shyly, you start to shakily clean yourself up, your body humming with unrivalled bliss. The warmth only multiplies when Tom comes nearer and wraps you in another hug, his hands gentle, his golf glove gone. His shoulders are soft against your face, and you bask in the closeness. You feel good, you feel grounded. You feel safe.

“I’ll take you home, darling,” Tom whispers, a few minutes into your hug.

Slowly, you peel yourself away from his shoulder, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “But— what about the rest of the game?”

He looks you up and down, a mischievous look on his face. “I don’t think you’ll be able to walk straight, let alone drive, Y/N,” he points out. “It would be irresponsible for me to leave you unattended.”

You chuckle as you finally muster up enough strength to stand tall. You run your hands across the front of your outfit, smoothing out the creases. Your skort feels strange with the tear down the front of it, and you find yourself thankful that the wind is calm today.

“That makes me sound like I’m a child,” you say, dodging the suggestion with a smile. “I can look after myself.”

Tom falters. He moves his hands to your shoulders and squeezes gently. “I know, love,” he says, voice softer, a lot more careful. “I just think it might be nice if you let me look after you this time. That was… a lot, and you deserve to come down from it properly. I can pour you a bath, make you some food. Get you anything you need.” Tom chews on his lower lip as he adds, “and, shit, I know you don’t like it when I overwhelm you, but I really want to be here for you this time—”

His eyes are so pretty.

“Okay,” you say suddenly. “I… I would really like that, Tom.” It slips out before you can challenge it, but you can’t force yourself to be mad about it. Maybe it’s just because your legs are so weak you fear you’ll need him to carry you, or perhaps it’s the softness to his smile that convinces you. Either way, you know it’s what’s right. You know his arms are what you need.

“Oh.” Tom blinks a few times before his face splits into a smile so genuine it almost knocks you off your feet. “Oh. Okay, then.”

“Is that okay?” you check, unsteadily following Tom as he walks across the shed to grab his golf bag. He offers you a hand that you gratefully accept, and with his golf bag slung around his shoulders, he lets you lean into his side.

“Yeah. Of course it is,” he mutters. Tom pauses to kiss the side of your head. “I just didn’t think you’d say yes.”

You hum. “Neither did I,” you admit. You stay still as Tom drops your fingers and pulls open the shed door. Ahead of you, he walks out onto the course and waits for you, his hand stretched towards you again.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises. His eyes are lighter than usual, glowing almost gold.

“You don’t need to,” you say, voice catching. “You just need to be you, and that’ll be enough.”

His lips fold into a soft smile. “You’re glowing again,” he mumbles. “Like earlier. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You chuckle softly. “Yeah,” you say. You reach out and take Tom’s hand. “I’m great.”

“Huh.” Tom rubs his thumb over the back of your palm. “You’re adorable.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, shying away from the smile on his face. “Stop,” you whine, “I’ll melt.”

Tom squeezes your hand. “What if I want you to melt?”

You pause. “Then you’ll probably get exactly what you want.”

He smiles. He glows. He tugs you from the shed and into the sun, then kisses you very softly. “Good,” he mutters, warm against your lips. “I’d like that very much.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧

A week later, you find yourself drifting across the lower level of the country club, an elegant gown twirling around your feet. You’re at a soirée, attached to a few of your friends as you enjoy cocktails out on the terrace. As the light evening breeze curls around your face, you find yourself shifting from side to side, unable to focus, eager eyes scouring the patio and the surrounding area.

You haven’t seen him yet, but you know that Tom’s here. He’d whispered it to you last week as you’d parted, then followed up the fact with a kiss. Just thinking about the encounter draws a warmth to your face and has you biting at your lip as you recall the events from after the course.

True to his word, Tom had taken you home. He’d cuddled you. Played with your hair. Brought you refreshments and tucked you into bed with a kiss on your forehead. When you’d invited him in beside you, Tom had wrapped himself around you and coaxed you to sleep.

It’d shown you a new side to him—one you’d known was sure to exist, but you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before. You’ve discovered that Tom is really good at being domestic—has already memorised the way you take your tea and the layout of the cupboards in your kitchen. He looks just as good in sweats as he does in a suit, and being casual draws out his silly sense of humour. You’ve learned that Tom likes to kiss your forehead, enjoys snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. He’s cute, and he’s generous, and he’s considerate, and—

He’s standing across the terrace right now, arm wrapped around the shoulder of somebody else. The sadness that pools in your stomach is so overwhelming that you almost burst into tears, right in the middle of the soirée.

Is this… Is this how it felt for him to see you in the arms of another?

Is it conceited to assume he feels even half the things for you that you find yourself feeling towards him?

Why does it hurt so much?

You know why it hurts.

Your breath catches in the back of your throat.

The game isn’t fun anymore.

Putting your glass down on a nearby table, you make a sharp turn and begin to walk towards the exit of the event. Your heart hurts. It shatters and it breaks, and small shards seem to twist further into your chest until it hurts so much it’s almost overwhelming.

The worst part is that the ache is all your own making. You’re the one who constantly shies away from defining your relationship—you’re the one who insists you aren’t official. You’re the one who has kept Tom so far removed from your heart that you’ve now managed to tangle yourself up in such a heartbreaking predicament. Tom is not the problem—Tom has never been the problem. You are.

“Y/N— Y/N!”

You falter as you hear him. He catches up to you easily, dodging the crowd that had slowed you down. When his hand connects with your arm, you go still. Tom almost crashes into your back.

“Oh— shit,” he mutters. “Careful.”

You bite at your lower lip so hard it brings tears to your eyes. “Sorry,” you say. You shake off his arm. “I need to go, Tom, can you— can you please move?”

He walks around you instead, reaching out as if to shield you with an arm around your shoulder. You duck away, trying to dodge his eyes and failing.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice confused. “Did something happen?”

Your breath hitches. You manage a hapless shrug. “I guess,” you say, “it doesn’t matter. I’m just… being stupid. It’s fine.”

Tom frowns. He takes a moment to look at you, then at the scene around you both. His expression shifts.

“Wait— was it—?” He falls quiet. He looks at you, waiting, and you manage a small nod. You can’t vocalise the problem without acknowledging your change of heart, but he seems to understand enough. Tom’s expression shatters. “I— I forgot she was coming with me,” he explains. “We made the plans after the brunch last week, and I forgot to cancel them. She only reminded me this morning, by which point it would’ve been really unfair for me to let her down.” His voice is strained, honest. When he reaches out and takes your hands, there’s honesty in the contact too. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It doesn’t mean anything… It was just a favour for a friend.”

You exhale. You feel better, but even that relief comes with guilt that tells you that you shouldn’t, because, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You can take whoever you want to events, Tom.” You manage a brittle smile. “Go back to the party. It’s fine. I don’t… I don’t care.”

His expression morphs into one of disbelieving sadness. “Come with me,” he pleads, “come dance with me.”

You shake your head. “Enjoy yourself,” you say, then you drop his hands. You turn and slip away again, and this time, you’re able to lose him in the crowd.

Wandering listlessly, you end up on the golf course again. There’s a steep hill right at the crown of the course, and you find yourself returning to the slope whenever you need to clear your head. You manage to climb all the way up, even shrouded in silk and heels and enough jewellery to sink a small boat. When you reach the top, you lie down in the grass, relaxing into the cool blades, thinking, unravelling.

You’re alone in your thoughts for only five minutes before you’re joined. Tom drops to the ground beside you, sitting cross-legged, then offers you a soft smile and an arm.

“C’mere,” he coaxes.

The dam breaks. Exhausted, you crawl into his lap. With your face buried in his neck, Tom rubs his hand over your back, soothing you as tears stream down the side of his skin, only to be absorbed by the crisp collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you say, hushed against his neck. Tom kisses at the top of your head. “I’m sorry for being so stupid.”

He cradles you closer. “Y/N,” he coos, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You squeeze your eyes closed. Forcing yourself away from the easy home you’d found in his neck, you bring your eyes up to Tom’s. There’s quiet acceptance in the brown shade, a patient understanding.

“You… have never been anything other than nice to me,” you mutter, “and all I’ve ever done is run away from you.”

He brings a hand to your cheek. “To be fair,” he reasons, “you were always honest about what you wanted.”

“Still.” You pull a face. “It’s just stupid. I’m… I’m tired, Tom.” You glance down, eyes attaching to his tie. “You deserve more than someone who makes you jump through a thousand hoops because they’re scared of opening up.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, his thumb padding over your cheek in circles.

“Did you ever consider that I like jumping through hoops? Love it, even?” Tom manages a lopsided smile. It stretches wider when you stare up at him, wide-eyed. “Everyone I meet is boring, Y/N. You’re the only person I know that challenges me. Vexes me, inspires me. And I know… I know who you are, and I like who you are. I appreciate your concern, I do, but I can make my own decisions.” His eyes soften. “What I want is you, in any way, shape or form you’re willing to share with me. You’re the kind of person worth waiting for.”

And shit. Shit. How are you supposed to guard your heart when he’s saying things like that?

You tilt your head to the side, eyes falling over the side of Tom’s face. It’s chiselled beneath the moonlight, the sharp line of his nose and jaw dusted in bright silver. His eyes are ghostly, light brown, but warm.

“I’m scared,” you admit, eyes dropping to the bump of his chin. His eyes are too prying, too honest, too much. Small steps. You need to take things in small steps. “I want to be with you, Tom,” you utter, “but what if I’m a bad girlfriend? What if we stop playing the game and you realise I’m boring, or you hate me, or—”

He presses his lips to yours very lightly, halting your words.

“—I haven’t done this in a long time,” you finish, and then you can breathe.

Tom stretches up to you, using his free hand to take your chin between two fingers and tilt your face towards him. He coaxes your eyes back to his, padding his thumb over the side of your jaw when your gaze locks.

“Neither have I,” he admits. “I’m scared as well.” Tom licks his lips. His mouth glimmers beneath the moon. “I think that it’ll be worth it, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We fit together so well it’s startling.” Tom’s voice drops, and you see the rosy blush coast across his cheeks before he even adds, “you do know, right? You know how much I adore you?”

Your heart feels weak. You feel weak. You try not to run from it.

You take a breath. “I know that I love you,” you whisper, “and I hope you feel the same way.”

Tom’s lips twitch. He leans forward and kisses you, drawing a hand to your hip and letting his warm palm envelop your waist as he draws you closer, his other hand steady on your face. With your bodies connecting as your lips unite, you feel something in your heart shift. He has you, you know that now—has his hand on your face, the other on your waist, and his heart, wrapped so snugly around yours that it’s hard to tell where his ends and yours starts. It’s a passionate mess of aching, burgeoning love, and it’s beautiful.

His lips fall away. The tip of Tom’s nose nuzzles up against yours.

“I do,” he says, voice gentle. “I love you, and I want to make you happy for a very long time. Will you let me?”

Your lips move before you can think, before you can allow fear to cloud your decisions.

“I would love that,” you reply.

Tom hums. He kisses you again, then again, then again. And it’s perfect.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧

!!!!!!! thank you so much for reading !!!!!!!

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #smut #richkid!tom #richkid!tom holland #richkid!tom smut #y/n #richkid!tomfic

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marvelouspeterparker · 3 years

Note

⛳️for tom

i don’t think i’ve ever written for richkid!tom but here we are––u could say @worldoftom inspired this since her upcoming fic sounds kinda similar to this! and i only realized halfway through writing it sjhfgsjkd

warnings: 18+ smut

––✧––

how your boyfriend managed to convince you to go to his golf club, in golf attire on top of that? you have no idea. but when you went over to his place and he told you he had something to give you with that familiar glint in his eyes, you knew it wouldn’t be innocent.

he brought you to his room and gave you a bag from a store you didn’t know––but one thing you knew for certain is that you wouldn’t be able to afford anything from it even if you saved up.

his eyes watched you intently as you sorted through the pristine wrapping and packaging to pull out a skin tight black shirt, along with a short white pleated skirt and a white visor to match. you looked up at him curiously, knowing there had to be more to it than it seemed.

that was when he told you he wanted you to go to the club with him so he could teach you how to play...then fuck you in the bathroom afterwards while you’re still wearing the outfit. you hate to admit it, but the way his eyes darkened and his voice deepened when he said that made the proposition all the more appealing to you. so you accepted the gifts and the offer, and that led us to now.

you took a deep breath as tom wrapped his arms around you, seemingly to help position you properly, but the way his hips were pressing into your backside proved otherwise. his hands held your wrists gently and you couldn’t help but smile at the irony of how much rougher he normally was with you, when his hands would pin your wrists down above your head.

“now just bring these,” he tilted your hands more to the side, “over here.” then he took his hands away and placed them at your waist, “and turn your body more this way. his fingers dug into your sides and you sucked in a breath from the feeling of his hands on you. “that’s it good girl.” he brought his hands back to your wrists and pulled them back, “and now you just––” he swung your hands down and the club hit the ball with a satisfying tink, “swing.”

you both watched the ball fly in the air before landing somewhere in the grass––you weren’t really paying attention to be honest, you were too focused on the feeling of tom’s hands sliding up your arms and down to your waist. you turned your head to look at him and he licked his lips as he caught your eye. “was that good?” you batted your lashes at him teasingly and he smirked.

“that was great, lovie.” he leaned in and left a longing kiss on your lips, making you forget your surroundings until he pulled away. “but let me show you how it’s done.”

you rolled your eyes despite the smile on your face and swerved out of his grasp, swatting his hand playfully when he spanked your ass slyly. you stepped back a few feet behind him and crossed your arms as you watched him. your eyes traced over his figure, his broad shoulders, his muscles curving through his shirt, arms bulging from the sleeves––and his form was annoyingly perfect.

you watched him raise his arms and swing down with force, hearing the club slice through the air as he tilted his body to the side, hitting the ball much farther than you did.

he turned around, the club over his shoulder, his arm flexed, a smirk on his face as he eyes swept over your body, lingering on the parts of your skin that were exposed––your neck, your thighs, all the places he liked to mark up. you walked up to him and slid your hands up from his waist to his chest as you looked up at him innocently. “not bad, tommy.”

he licked his lips as he locked eyes with you but when his eyes flitted behind you, his gaze darkened and he clenched his jaw. you turned your head in confusion until your eyes fell upon the person he was glaring at. nate, another member at the club who was around the same age as you and tom. he took every chance he could to show off and one up tom. that, tom could handle, since he was better than him in any way possible––his words. but the one thing he did that tom absolutely could not stand, was stare at you, flirt with you, anything involving you.

you noticed nate’s eyes on you and tom’s arm circled his arm around your waist. you turned back around to tell tom not to worry about him when he brought his free hand up to your neck and pulled you into him for a possessive kiss, his tongue eagerly licking its way into your mouth, his lips chasing yours for more when you pulled back.

his tightened his grip around your neck and you whined into his mouth, your hands coming up to tug at his hair. his other hand slid down and grabbed your ass cheekily, clearly staking his claim, only turning you on further.

you pulled away as best you could, but tom only let your lips separate from his for a few seconds as you spoke. “should we. go. to the. bathroom?”

he nodded, his lips still attached to yours for a moment, before he bit your bottom lip and pulled away, a hungry look in his eyes. you licked your lips, already reminiscent from the touch and taste of his own and he took your hand in his. “let’s go.”

he dragged you to the nearest private bathroom and of course, it was huge, the countertops marble, as well as the floor, a large mirror taking up most of the wall behind the sink, a gold frame around it. but you weren’t given much time to admire the setting as tom locked the door and bent you over the sink almost immediately.

you gasped as he slapped your ass harshly and looked up in the mirror to find him already looking at you through the glass. you arched your back further and he cursed, his eyes falling back down to your body. his hand smoothed over your ass before he flipped the skirt up and hastily pulled your panties down to your thighs and pulled his cock out. he stepped back and you had to bite back a whine when his hand pulled away from you.

his eyes were locked on the sight between your thighs, your wet folds, the way you were clenching around nothing, aching to be filled. “look even more beautiful than i thought you would, all spread out for me. s’like you were made he stroked his cock slowly and bit his lip as you started squirming, getting impatient with him, needy for his cock just the way he wanted.

“m’sure nate would love to see you like this. all bent over and pretty for him. but he doesn’t get to. and he never will.” he locked eyes with you. “isn’t that right, darling?”

you nodded. “only you get to see me like this tommy.” his mouth fell open at your words and you felt a tingle run down your body. “please fuck me the way only you can.”

he closed the distance between you and slid his cock between your wet folds, loving the way your breath hitched and your ass pushed back into him. “i’ll give you what you need, lovie. what only i can give you.” he slid himself in and bottomed out in one go and you both moaned at the feeling of every inch of his cock fill you up.

“fuck, tom––”

he slapped your ass and started thrusting into you slow and deep, your hips pressing into the marble counter with every jolt of your body.

“that’s it. don’t hold back baby. want everyone to hear just how good i fuck my girl.”

your eyes were struggling to stay open, your lips parted as moans and whines passed through them freely, echoing in the walls of the bathroom along with tom’s praises and grunts, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours, his palm hitting your ass every now and then.

his grip on your waist was tight––bruising, but you loved it, and he knew you did. he leaned forward and attached his lips to your neck, biting and sucking possessively as his hips snapped harshly into your ass, almost animalistic as he hunched over to hit all the right spots inside of you.

he shoved a hand between your legs to rub your clit and cursed when you clenched around him, your hands gripping the edge of the countertop desperately as you begged him to keep going, to fuck you until you couldn’t think anymore.

he sped up his hips and his hand and let his lips press against your ear as he grunted. “gonna cum inside my pussy, then i’m gonna put your panties back on you and we’re going to walk out and finish the game, making sure to walk by nate so he can see all the pretty marks i left on you.” you whined and he chuckled, biting your earlobe teasingly. “but first i need you to cum. so be a good girl and do it. cum on my cock like a good slut––”

your eyes rolled back and you gasped, seeing white as your head fell back, offering your neck to him as your walls spasmed around his cock, milking him dry.

“fuck––fuck, baby girl.” he kept pounding into you, biting into your neck as he released inside of you, prolonging both of your highs. “such a good girl. my good girl.”

he rested his head against your shoulder as you both caught your breaths and wrapped his arms around your waist again, hugging your from behind as you laughed breathlessly.

he pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you leaned your head on his lovingly, catching his eye in the mirror as you brought your hands down to hold his arms.

“so did it live up to your expectations?”

he perked up, “what, fucking you in this outfit at the club? a fucking dream come true love, you have no idea.”

you laughed and shook your head, endeared.

“but come on let’s get out of here. i wanna rub it in nate’s face.” he pulled out of you gently and hissed before sliding your panties back up and cleaning himself up.

he grabbed your jaw firmly and pulled you in for another lasting kiss and this time you chased him when he pulled away. he smiled at you, a glint in his eyes. “mine.”

you nodded, biting your lip. “yours.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland smut blurb #tom holland emoji blurb #richkid!tom holland #richkid!tom holland smut #richkid!tom holland x reader

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petersasteria · 4 years

Text

Think of Me - Tom Holland

Pairing: richkid!Tom x Reader

Requested? Nah my dudes.

Masterlist

* * * *

"So, you're ending it just like that??" Tom paces around his penthouse, not knowing how to feel. Everything was great, so it baffled him when you told him that you wanted to break up.

"Tom, we knew what we were getting into when we started this relationship." you told him calmly. "And we said that when the time came for you to get married to that girl, we'd end it. It's time, Tom."

Tom knew you were right, but he didn't think you'd actually push through with that agreement. He wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. He didn't care if you weren't rich like him. All he cared about was you. After a moment of silence, you decided that it was time to leave.

"I'll go now. I'll send back all the things you gave me." you told him. Tom looks at you and shakes his head as he walks closer to you, "Don't. I want you to keep all of it so you can remember all the things we've done; so you can remember me."

You cupped his cheeks and offer him a small smile, "I could never forget you, Thomas." You kissed him one last time before pulling away, "I'll see you tomorrow at your wedding."

Tom's heart breaks upon hearing those words and his heart broke even more watching you leave.

"...speak now or forever hold your peace." the priest says. Everyone looks around but Tom's eyes stayed on yours the whole time. You give him a bright smile despite the tears streaming down your face. It was hard for you too and Tom knew that. He felt your pain.

"You may now kiss the bride." the priest smiles at the newly wed couple. Tom, whose eyes were still on yours, blinked away a his tears before breaking eye contact with you to lift his bride's veil. Tom quickly pecks her lips and the couple looked at everyone who was cheering.

The bride looks at you with a sad look on her face. She didn't like this arrangement either. She had a girlfriend too and you knew she was here watching everything unfold like you. You give her a sad smile before getting up to leave. You couldn't take it anymore.

"We should probably open our gifts." Anastasia, Tom's wife, says quietly. Tom just nods, not even bothering to pick up any of the boxes in front of them.

"I'm sorry." Tom says. Anastasia knew what he meant, "I'm sorry too." They sit in silence and Anastasia picks up a big box with your name on it. She smiles and hands it to Tom, "I figured you'd only open something from her. I'll open the rest."

Tom thanked her and grabbed the box from her. He smiles as soon as he sees your neat handwriting. He removes the ribbon and takes off the lid of the box. Tom looks inside and sees a note, an envelope, and some pictures. The note read:

I suggest you read the letter last.

Look through all the pictures first.

I love you x - Y/N

Tom looks through the pictures and smiles sadly. He misses her terribly. He tried to talk his parents out of this arrangement, because it wasn't fair to him and Anastasia. They obviously didn't listen now both of them are in an unhappy marriage.

After looking through the pictures, he takes a deep breath before opening the envelope and unfolding the letter in it.

Dearest Thomas,

This is as hard for me as it is for you. I've sent those pictures, because I knew those are your favorite pictures of us. I want you to keep something that reminds you of us.

I'm moving away, because I can't live here knowing that you're not mine. So please promise me that you'll try to remember me often.

Like I said, we both knew what we were getting into when we started our relationship. We both knew that we weren't meant for each other but despite that, we had a love that was great and powerful. So if you ever feel down, stop and think of all the times we were happy.

I don't want you to think about the "what could've been" 's, because that's depressing. I want you to think of all the things we already had and darling, we had everything.

Please think of me in whatever else you choose to do. Spare a thought for me when you're out doing business for your family's company.

Consider this my vow for you, my love. I'll always think of you every time I wake up in the morning and I will always think of you before I go to sleep. I will always think of you, because a piece of you will always be with me and I won't ever let that go.

Just please promise me that you will think of me all the time, because there will never be a day when I won't think of you.

Yours truly,

Y/N x

Tom smiled after reading the letter. He made a silent promise to himself that he'll do all those things you asked in the letter. Tom felt one more thing inside the envelope and he takes it out with a loud gasp.

It was a sonogram.

Anastasia looks at him and sees him looking at a picture. Thinking it was just a regular picture from where she was seated, she sees something written on the back of the picture, "There's something written on the back."

Tom looks at Anastasia for a second who went back to minding her own business and opening gifts. He turns the sonogram around and sure enough, there was a note on it from you.

Everyday I'll make sure that our child will think of you too x

* * * *

I really liked this one

Tagging my mutuals: @myblueleatherbag @fanficparker @sweetdespairbarnes @tommysparker @lcvelyparkers

Big thanks to @t-lostinmendes for helping me with this xx

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland one shots #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #richkid!tom holland #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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tomthesoftie · 4 years

Note

Can u pls do a tom imagine with prompt 2, 12, 15, 20, 48

for the best

a/n: depending on how this does, i will make a part 2 to it, so stick around... this is the first richkid au i’ve ever written and it doesn’t really feel much like it, more so like mob but not really... enjoy my lovelies xx

pairing: richkid!tom x reader

warnings: a pinch of fluff in the beginning, AnGsT, heartbreak, );

masterlist add yourself on my taglist!

2. “Close the door.”

12. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

15. “Watch me.”

20. “I want an answer, goddammit!”

48. “Walk out that door and we’re through.”

The Hollands hosted a weekly party on every Friday night, and you, being Tom’s girlfriend, always attended by his side. He spoiled you with piles and piles of luxuries, all to which you declined. You didn’t want to seem like a gold digger. Your family wasn’t as rich as the Hollands, but your family was in the upper-middle class.

Tom always gave you a new dress to wear to the party, making excuses to convince you to accept it. Usually he would use money, but ever since you slapped some sense into him, he never touched his wallet around you unless it was to necessary.

This week, he gave you a red satin dress with a deep v-neck and a cinched waist. The skirt flowed to the floor, a slit decorating the front. Although the dress looked like it would be a hassle to put on, it slipped onto you as easily as a glove. You wore nude heels and dangling diamonds earrings Tom had given you to tie the outfit together. You curled your hair to perfection and placed a section over your left shoulder.

“You ready, love?” Tom knocked on the door.

Looking at yourself once more in the mirror, you added a light layer of setting spray over your bold makeup look and replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You heard the door click open, “Wow,” a soft voice spoke.

Turning around, your eyes met your lover’s dilating pupils. You blushed at his reaction and made your way over to him.

“So, lover boy, are we going or are you going to keep ogling me?” You asked seductively, gently grazing his chest as you walked past him.

“I can’t help it, love,” his voice was hoarse with lust, “you’re absolutely stunning.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “I just know how to put the right pieces together, silly. Now, let’s crash this party!”

You swayed your hips as you walked over to the ballroom. The dress added a seductive effect, making Tom feel his pants tighten. He readjusted his tie and gulped, turning a faint red.

“Get a grip, Tommy,” you laughed at the hormonal boy, “you’ve got guests to entertain.”

He rushed to pull the door open for you, politely bowing and signaling for you to enter. Thanking him, you entered the room, gaining a few stares and glances from the guests. Tom walked in behind you and placed a hand on the small of your back, urging you forward.

“Oh,” Tom caught sight of his family, “I’ve gotta go, love. Stay safe, alright?”

“When am I not?” You smiled up at him, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek before letting him walk away.

“Y/N L/N,” a voice spoke from behind you.

Your hair elegantly flowed as you turned to face the familiar voice, “Hazza?”

“How’d you know?” He chuckled.

“You’re so stupid,” you giggled.

“So, Tom left you all alone again?” He grabbed two champagne glasses of a passing waiter’s tray, handing a drink to you.

“He has to. Besides, it doesn’t bother me, especially since I know some people here, like you,” you smiled gently.

An hour passed and Tom was still going around and talking to the guests. This wasn’t the longest amount of time that he left. Luckily, Harrison was kind enough to stay with you the entire time.

You and Haz were in a conversation, talking about your golfing fails it was mostly Haz laughing at you. The sweet accented voice of your boyfriend lightly met your ears but what he had said was incoherent. That was until he moved closer.

“Welcome, Aurelia, darling. It’s been a while,” his voice cut off.

Harrison noticed your sudden change in mood. He looked around to see if there were any hints to the difference, and when he saw Tom kissing Aurelia’s hand, he realized why you were suddenly so cold.

Aurelia and Tom had a history. They were past lovers and initially arranged to get married, but you changed both the Hollands’ and Beaumonts’ plans. Aurelia grew to dislike you. In the Beaumonts’ standards, you weren’t rich enough to have any of their attention. Tom was truly in love with her, but you were something else. Tom would feel euphoria whenever he was with you. Aurelia thought that she and Tom were meant for each other, so she was absolutely heartbroken when she found out they wouldn’t be getting married.

“Tommy! Let’s have a drink. Just you and me, lover boy,” you cringed when you heard her call Tom the nickname you called him only hours ago.

“Alright,” his sultry voice responded.

You felt a twinge of betrayal hearing his response. You couldn’t help but be jealous of his past relationship with her. They were in love, accepted by all.

Tears pricked your eyes. You ruined their relationship selfishly to give yourself something that was never yours to take.

“Y/N,” Haz breathed pitifully, seeing your eyes gloss over.

Blinking away the tears, you plastered a fake smile onto your face, “It’s alright, Hazza,” you said with faux serenity. “Please excuse me.”

You made your way over to Tom and Aurelia, the fake smile still plastered across your face. They were laughing and enjoying themselves,

They really did look like the perfect couple.

“Pardon me, Aurelia,” you said quietly from behind the couple, “may I borrow Tom for a minute or two? I promise to return him as soon as I’m finished talking with him.”

Tom turned around to face you, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Aurelia had a look of hatred and jealousy on her face when she saw you.

Faking a giggle, she kindly replied, “Of course. There’s no need to worry, I’ll be here waiting.”

You silently thanked her and dragged Tom to the bathroom.

“What’s wrong, love?” Tom asked, looking concerned.

“Close the door,” you whispered.

“Alright, but we can’t do anything just yet. I still have more walking around to do tonight. Unless, do you want me to-” you raised a finger, silencing him.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffled, eyes avoiding Tom’s gaze.

“What? What are you sorry for?” He asked a panicked tone in his voice.

“You and Aurelia are made for each other,” you said, eyes locked to the floor.

“What? Aurelia? You’ve got it all wrong. We,” he signaled to the both of you, “We are made for each other. We’re soulmates.”

“No, we’re not! Aurelia is. I was being selfish, and I broke apart your perfect relationship,” tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Y/N-” he began.

“Don’t. You have a future with her. I wouldn’t get you anywhere. Besides, you have a history with her,” you sulked, saying the last bit with a pang of jealousy.

“You’re still going on about that? Are you never going to let that go?” His voice rose with anger.

“I won’t let it go because if it weren’t for me, you’d still be together today, wouldn’t you be? Hell, you’d probably married her by now. I’m right, aren’t I?” Your faux serenity began cracking.

He didn’t reply, now avoiding your gaze.

“I want an answer, goddammit!” Tears flew from your eyes.

“Y/N-” he tried.

“Stop avoiding the question! Just answer it,” you snapped.

He couldn’t look at you. You were right after all. He would probably be married to Aurelia now if it weren’t for you, but you were a blessing in disguise.

“Just as I thought,” you sighed, “I’ll return all of your gifts to me as soon as I can.”

“W-What do you mean?” He asked, fearing what you would say next.

“I’m leaving, Thomas. Enjoy your evening,” you reached towards the doorknob, but his hand gripped your wrist.

“Y/N, if you walk out of that door, we’re through,” Tom said, hoping you’d stay.

“Thank you for the memories, Thomas, but watch me.”

And with that, you ripped your arm from his grasp, leaving him to sulk alone in the bathroom.

It’s for the best.

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tom-holland-parker · 2 years

Text

The Wine Cellar

Summary: When you’re asked to find a wine that would go good with dinner, tom decides to help you out

Pairing: Richkid!Tom x Richkid!reader

Warning: SMUT (oral, daddy kink)

Word count: 1200

Masterlist

Who did he think he was, coming into your house wearing that suit. It had to be against the law to look that good. He knew what he was doing and he was going to love every minute of it.

“Y/n stop hanging at the top of the stairs” Your mother’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts, “Come downstairs and greet our guest”

You rolled your eyes as you walked down the stairs, smiling as you got closer to your mother guest.

The Hollands

You were really only focused on one of them. The one you’d been secretly hooking up with twice a week since you met at your mothers party

Tom Holland

He was currently standing in your doorway with a bottle of wine waiting for you to say hello. He smirked when he saw you. In a black dress that hugged every curve of your body and was shorter than your mother expected it to be. He knew very well that your mother would yell at you later for wearing it but he couldn’t wait to get you out of that dress.

“Hello Mr and Mrs Holland, it’s good to see you” Your cheeks hurt from your fake smile. “And Tom” you turned to the taller boy, moving closer to pull him in for a hug.

Tom’s arms wrapped around you tightly, “I can’t wait to fuck you until the only thing coming out your mouth is you begging me to stop” He whispered inconspicuously in your ear. Your eyes widened slightly, your hand shook as you pulled away.

“Dinner’s ready” Your mother said with a smile, clueless dirty exchange between you and Tom. Tom grabbed your wrist holding you behind as everyone else piled into the dining room. You smiled as his chest hit your back, “Take your panties off”

“Tom-”

“Don’t make me ask again or you’re not cumming tonight” His hands grazed the back of your thighs moving up your dress. You sighed, pulling the lace thong down your legs and handing them to him, His lips moved to your neck as he placed a gentle kiss on your soft skin, “Good girl, now let’s go eat”

Small talk filled the dining room as everyone sat for dinner, You rolled your eyes as you listened to the pretentious voice of your mother, boredom took over but you smirked when Tom sat next to you.

Looking around the table you pretended to listen to whatever Mr Holland was saying as you snuck your hand under that table. Your hand grazed Tom’s thigh. “So Tom” You father spoke up, “How’s school”

Tom took a deep breath as he tried to answer but the second he opened his mouth you squeezed his growing bulge. He coughed in an attempt to cover the groan that was slipping through his lips. “It’s good Mr. Y/L/N, I graduate soon so I’m really looking forward to that and then I’ll start training to take over the family company”

“Well sounds like you have everything figured out” Your father smiled before turning his attention elsewhere. Tom let out a breath of relief as he glanced at his lap, Your manicured hand moved towards his belt.

“I’m sure this wine is lovely but it won’t go good with the meal tonight” you both jumped at the sound of your mothers voice, “y/n why don’t you take Tom to the wine cellar, you guys can pick out a bottle for dinner” she said with an annoyed tone

“Sure mother” You said with a fake smile and you grabbed Tom’s hand and guided him out the dining room to the stairs that led to the cellar.

His hands moved to your hips as you walked down the stairs into the dark room. When you reached the bottom step tom turned your body, pulling you in for a kiss as his arms snaked around your body, his hands squeezing your ass.

“You little nympho” he said as his lips moved down your neck, “you just couldn’t keep your hands off my cock like a little slut”

“It’s your fault” You said through a moan, his lips sucking softly on you sweet spot, “coming in here whispering all those dirty thoughts in my ear, you really expect me to keep my hands off of you”

Tom pulled away groaning at how desperate you sounded. His hand grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him, “Just because you get wet over a few little words doesn’t mean you can act like a whore, what would your mother think? All she had to do was look under that table and she would’ve saw her sweet innocent daughter with her hand down my pants”

The condescending tone that lace his voice only made you more needy, you pouted, your hands trailing down his chest only stopping at his belt. You smirked as his grip on your chin tightened, “Please Daddy”

His jaw clenched as he took a deep breath. You yelped as he unexpectedly lifted you up, carrying you to the display counter in the middle of the room. “Make one noise and I’m stopping”

He lifted your dress, licking his lips at the sight of your wet pussy. You bit your lip as he got to his knees, his lips inches away from your clit. He remained quiet, knowing that you wouldn’t beg out of fear that you would be left with nothing.

You began squirming, trying to move yourself closer to his face. He smirked watching you struggle to get his attention. He waited for the perfect moment, when you were just desperate enough to almost say something. His lips moved to your clit, wasting no time as he sucked harshly. Your fingers laced through his hand, no doubt messing it up.

Your legs shook as you tried your best to stay quiet, you were so desperate, it would only take a few minutes for him to get you cumming.

“Hey kids, have you found a wine yet?” Your eyes widened as you heard your dad’s. You look down at Tom, wondering if he would stop if you answered. His eyes burned into your, showing clear intention of not stopping.

You took a deep breath as your toes curled, “Yes dad, Just looking for the wine opener”

The second the words left your mouth, your stomach tightened and your legs closed around Tom’s head. “Daddy I’m cumming” You whispered as you moved to push yourself closer to his face.

Finally riding out the last of your orgasm Tom pulled back lightly, licking his lips to savor the taste of you. Your eyes were glossy and you were out of breath, “What goes good with steak?”

Tom chuckled, kissing your forehead as he grabbed a random wine from the wall. You smiled, hopping off the counter and fixing your dress.

Making your way upstairs, you stopped him before you reached the door, “can I have my panties back”

“No” Tom smirked, “I’m gonna gag you with them later while I fuck you”

You thighs clenched but you didn’t have time to fully react as Tom dragged you through the door into the dining room

---

taglist: @wildxwidow @marvelgurl @marvelxholland @crybabyddl @wildholland

@inas-thing @hehehehannahthings @prancerrparkerr

#richkid!tom x reader #richkid!tom #richkid!tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland smut #college!tom #frat!Tom #richkid!tom smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x y/n #richkid!reader #richkid!tom x richkid!reader

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hilllsnholland · 5 years

Text

White Party

Rich!Tom x Reader

Wc: 3k

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), drinking, and swearing

Summary: The party might look innocent, but your intentions are as naughty as they come

Thick, hot late-summer air created a dreamy haze around the White Party. The richest of rich, the most affluent people in the world gathered at the Holland’s summer house for the last bash of the season. Fall would soon arrive and the aristocrats wanted one more excuse to drink expensive wine and complain about mundane problems.

You were dressed in a short white dress with small crystals covering the bodice. Your lips were sporting the perfect shade of red lipstick, one of Tom’s favorite colors on you. A beautiful silver chain hung from your neck, a ring with your initials engraved into it. A gift from Tom, who was now no where to be seen. It would be the first outing as a couple for the two of you but he was so busy schmoozing he’d completely forgot about you. So now you were stuck talking to Holly and April about tory nonsense.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to go on holiday in Belize?” Holly asks you with wine coming to her lips. “They got loads of beaches and those tropical huts with the hammocks! It’s an Instagram dream!”

“Uh-huh…yeah. Great…weather,” You look around for your boyfriend but he’s hidden amongst the white-clad guests. Holly frowns at you.

“You can’t expect him to be at your side you know,” April narrows her eyes at you. “He has a party to host. You’re a big girl,”

April was trying to be helpful but it came out in a condescending manner. You ignored her though, placing your glass on the table and leaving them. Tom had an obligation yes, but you wanted some attention too. You could be by his side, making the diplomats laugh with your witty humor. But no, you were on the sidelines talking about designer shoes and holidays trips. It was mind-numbing when you wanted to be a part of the action.

That’s all you wanted, to be included in on the fun. There was deep conversations to be had, but your friends were not the brightest in the bunch after having one too many Bellinis. Which is why you wanted to show your brains, and beauty, off with Tom. The two of you would be the dynamic couple of the socialite scene. Not like it mattered, but it would make you happy knowing that everyone adored the coupling.

You cross the party, looking everywhere to find Tom. You catch glimpses of his parents and brothers, but none of them have your boyfriend in your grasp. Harrison is standing in the doorway of the summer house, fanning himself off with a napkin, a white suit making his eyes glimmer.

“Hey,” He says to you in a small voice. “It’s fucking blazing and Tom insisted I wear this,”

Harrison points to his ensemble, which to be fair was really thick. You think back to Tom, wearing white slacks that were fitted to his body and tight in the right places. His sports jacket was left open and he looked so delicious. Maybe that was bothering you the most, how much you needed him.

This morning you were practically begging for him to touch you. Although he was busy making last-minute decisions for the party. His parents put him in charge of it this year, a right of passage for the oldest boy. Tom was hands-on for months, but was a stress case all summer. This only deepened your desire to make him feel good. To know you were easing his tension, making him feel good. But also how he could relax you with his expertise. How you longed for his skillful hands and tongue to make you cum, over and over again.

“Are you looking for him?” Haz asks.

“Yeah, I can’t find him anywhere,” You shrug, your cheeks turning a pink as those naughty thoughts filled your mind.

“I was talking to him earlier, he said he was going to go check on the food or something,”

You nod, walking into the house with Harrison right behind you. He’s muttering about the heat again, shrugging his coat off and exposing the clean white shirt underneath. It reminded you of the plain t-shirt Tom wore on one of your first date.

Tom had taken you on a picnic in the gardens, wearing that t-shirt with plain jeans. It was simple, so out of character for him. You had felt overdressed, wearing a designer dress that your father bought you from fashion week. Although you were embarrassed, Tom assured you that you looked beautiful, then kissed you. He tasted like raspberries and white wine.

You snapped back to reality as you walked into the kitchen, staff were running around frantically trying to get all the food and alcohol on time. There was no Tom though. He’d usually be talking to the head chef, trying out the food and complimenting him on his hard work. Charlie, one of the busboys stops in front of you, slicking his hair back and greeting you.

“Hi Y/N! Looking for Tom? You just missed him,” He points towards the side door. “He said he was going to his room for a bit to freshen up if you want to catch him,”

“Oh that’s perfect Charlie, thank you,” You smile back at him and turn to Haz. “Coming with?”

“Nah, I’m gonna head back out with some ice.”

You respond with a bare ‘hm’ and a nod before walking out the side door. This led to the second set of stairs that went up to the upper floors. It came in handy when you needed a midnight snack and didn’t want to walk through the crazy corridors and hallways. You trot up the stairs, wishing you didn’t wear such clunky shoes to the event and wobbled towards Tom’s door. You don’t knock, pushing the door open and scanning the room for Tom.

“Babe?” You call and close the door behind you.

He’s not laying in his misshaped bed or standing in the walk-in closet so you wander to the en-suit bathroom, which is adorned with blue accents and your very shirtless boyfriend. His shirt is laying on the bathroom counter, wrinkled by the half-hazard throw. Tom stares at you, a smirk appearing on his face while you stare at him in all his glory.

“Costume change?” You quip as you pick up the shirt from the counter.

“Small one. I thought the shirt looked too baggy so I’ve been trying to decide on a new one,”

Tom gestures to the seven white shirts hanging up on a rack, all looking identical but with slight differences. You couldn’t help him though, your mind was concentrated on his chiseled chest and tan skin that tempted you. Tom watches your glazed eyes wander his body, his ego-boosting with the lick of your lips. He turns, flexing his muscles just for you and you swear it’s gotten a hundred degrees hotter in the room.

“What’s on your mind?” Tom pulls a shirt from the rack and eyes it casually.

You pause, strutting towards him and tracing his back with your acrylic nails. He holds back a shiver, he loved the way your nails tickled his back. It was comforting, but also arousing in the right sense.

“Did you know,” You blow hot air across his ear. “That the White Party tradition has racist roots?”

Tom snorts. It’s not a laughing manner but because of the way you are he can’t help but laugh.

“Like all upper-class things, it dips its toe into the waters of oppression and systematic injustices,”

You smile, kissing the back of his neck playfully. Tom’s hairs stand up straight as he leans back into your hot touch.

“Does social justice talk get you riled up love?” He turns to meet your lustful eye with a glow of confidence.

“Only if it’s with you,”

Tom’s hands cross your waist, pulling you tighter against his body. You can smell the peach champagne on his breath as he moves his lips towards your neck. He’s moving slowly. Agonizingly slow that you want to push him against the counter and take him now.

“What’s really going on?” He nips at your neck. “Not enjoying the party?”

Tom’s voice is smooth as it rolls over your prickled skin. He knows exactly how to play you, his fingers crawling over the thin fabric of the dress and playing with the outline of your undergarments. He knows what’s underneath. A skinned colored set that he got for you a few weeks back. The one that perked your breasts up and hugged your hips perfectly. The thought made him almost salivate on the spot.

“Not really, I’d rather have you by my side than those girls,” You pout as he moves away from you. “And I’ve been horny all day so,”

You drag him back, pulling him against you roughly. His coy smile strengthens the heat building inside of you. It’s no longer a want, it’s a need for him to be inside of you. His touch was your only salvation.

“Well if that’s so,” Tom teases.

He extends two fingers towards your lips, brushing them across for permission to continue. You lick his long fingers, meeting his eye as you simulate what you’ve done plenty of times before on his hand. Tom loved it, the innocence in your eyes that drove him mad or maybe the way he knew how it felt but loved the way it looked more. You create a pop with your mouth as you pull them away, cocking a brow.

“Get over here,”

Tom’s voice was rushed as he lifted you into his arms, lips smacking against yours in a hungry rage. His teeth skimmed across your bottom lip while his hands rushed to pull the white dress from your body. You were just as hasty, shuffling the belt off of his trousers and throwing them to the floor. It took mere seconds for the two of you to be in your underwear, but it felt like decades had passed since the last time you were intimate like this. This kind of hunger was new and it needed to be filled.

Tom places you on the cold countertop while he scavenged your chest for skin to make marks on. You lean back onto the mirror, admiring your gorgeous boyfriend attending to your every need. He knew where to kiss, touch, and suck to make your sense go wild. It was tunnel vision with only his heavy breathes and the heat between your legs in the center of your thoughts. Suddenly, your panties are thrown to the floor, the flesh lace slightly ripped from the looks of it. Oh well, he’d buy you a new one anyway.

“Can I get a taste?” His voice is muffled against your stomach as he kneeled down.

“Y-yes please,”

Tom slips between your legs that were vibrating with excitement. You have never been under such a deep spell over him since the first time you were intimate. It was a moonlight dinner on his yacht. The breeze was cold so you were cuddled against him for warmth, his mouth giving hot kisses to your exposed skin. It was a misty memory of skin against skin, moans, and hushed ‘I love you’s. You would never forget that feeling of the first time being in his embraced.

Your eyes draw back while a breathy moan escapes your parted lips. Tom dances his tongue along your slit, teasing slowly with his middle finger on your clit. You arch against the mirror so your wet entrance brushes across his lips. Tom kisses it, wide mouth while skimming across the folds. It’s a fucking dream, it has to be. Only this much euphoria can be formed in an imagination. You curse out, panting as his rubs your clit a little harder, your insides bubbling and tightening. Tom continues his feast while raising a finger up to your lips to remind you to be quiet. The house is filled with staff and guests that would love to find a scene like this to gossip about.

It’s almost impossible though, you’re at the edge of exploding. His loud smacks and moans of satisfaction are enough to make you dizzy. You buck towards him, yelping as a sign of what’s to come. Literally. Tom takes long licks of your heat, dragging out every last bit of pleasure he can. You’re a mess of heavy breathes, eyes rolling back as your muscles pulse and release onto Tom’s tongue. He chuckles, sitting up from your heat and grabbing a towel to wipe his face off.

“Where do you want me?” He asks breathlessly.

“In me,” Your voice struggles to make it out without a whine.

Tom picks you up again, taking you to his half-made bed and laying you across the pristine white sheets. His hand caresses your cheek, thumb drawing around your red lips in satisfaction. You see his smile only for a moment when he flips you on your stomach, taking a hold of your knees and throwing your back so your tiled up into the air.

“New position,” Tom murmurs.

His hands rest on your ass while you feel his tip ease into you. Glittery spots appear in front of your eyes as he bottoms out, your mouth dry from being hung open too long. Tom takes his time to feel every part of your pussy, dragging his cock in and out to hear every whine and curse leave your lips. The same lips that dragged red stains on the sheets, your lip prints making a temporary marker of how amazing he was fucking you. Tom grips your bum tighter, moving your body to a rhythm against is hips. You almost choked on your own breath, the new position hitting deeper than ever before. Both of your hips hit perfectly, the sound of your skin filling the room along with Tom’s muffled grunts.

“Yes…fuck…love you’re so…fuck,”

It’s taking all of his will power to not raise his voice. If no one was home he would praising you at full volume, making sure you knew exactly how you were making him feel. The way you clenched around him and swiveled your hips against his, fuck he was going mad. The stress from the party really drove him away from your perfect body. Never again would he let that happen. He needed you as much as you needed him. It took his mind off impressing the Uppers, and more focused on how to make you crumble around him.

Tom pulls out suddenly, flipping you onto your back and diving on top of you. Lips now moving as one as he entered you again. This time the speed is hungrier, desperate for the release he’s dying to have. You can feel the low growls against your mouth. Tom can barely hold it together. He was coming undone but wanting to make you get your filling at the same time. You pull back, grabbing his face to focus on you while you reach another climax. His fingers go to your clit again, knowing it’ll be even more intense than the last.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my-“ You shake with pleasure as your eyes screw shut.

He captures your lips against, engulfing you in an embrace as he thrusts faster into you. It’s hard to even keep the room straight, the overstimulation making your eyes flutter open and shut while your insides unravel again.

“Good girl…cum…cumming…fuck,” Tom finally whines.

His head dips to your chest while his hips stutter against yours. It’s the slowest moment in the lustful rush, Tom unloading inside of you with soft moans on your skin. You feel the warmth run between your thighs as he pulls himself away. The room is spinning while lights twinkle above you. The reflection of the light on your necklace makes it look like there are tiny rainbows surrounding you. It’s like heaven, especially with the angel laying next to you. Tom’s arm is protectively thrown over you as he catches himself up with reality. Your legs tangle with his as you roll over to meet his glazed eyes.

“Now that’s a party,”

Tom, red in the face, rolls his tired eyes at you. He rolls to embrace you again, kissing your shoulder lightly.

“I’m glad you’re finally enjoying yourself,” He hums against your skin. “I still want to show you off though. You’re my girl and I want everyone to know,”

You look down to your body, bruised from his love bites and roughed around from his relentless thrusting.

“I think if they saw me like this they’ll know,” You laugh. “But we should get back before people get suspicious,”

You roll from the bed to retrieve your dress which was still in pretty good shape. Your lipstick has been smeared off and your mascara had fallen onto your cheeks. It was gonna be a real mission to fix yourself up but you had to do it. With a few ruined face towels you had perfected your face again. Tom appeared behind your with a fitted white shirt and his pants from before. He looked like a cover of a romance novel. Toned, muscular, and beaming with after sex.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Tom kisses the top of your head while admiring your body. “So lucky. But I want everyone to see that,”

“Well show me the way,”

Tom bites his lip, shyly smiling as he takes your hand to lead you back into the party. His hand is molded to your hip while you enter the belly of the beast. All eyes are on the two of you, gleeful smiles from friends and family at how amazing the both of you look. Tom rubs your hip, kissing the side of your face. It was exactly what you wanted, Tom by your side while making your mark on the party.

“I love you,” He whispers.

You meet his eye, the white clothing making him look even tanner and more dashing. The glittery rainbows from before are back, dancing along his skin from your necklace. You kiss him again, leaning your forehead against his.

“I love you too,”

///

tagging: @mcuspidey @stuckonspidey @worldoftom @cmonpetertingle @blissfulparker @starksparker @spiderboytotherescue @madmadmilk

#tom holland smut #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurbs #rich!tom holland #richkid!tom holland #tom holland blurb

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jasntodds · 5 years

Note

oh my god. after seeing those pics of tom in his suit sticking his tongue out. ITS GOT ME FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAY. it gave me such richkid!tom vibes/fuckboy!tom vibes. like baby boy what that tongue DO? im so sorry but IT HAD TO BE SAID

You know at any event you happen to be at when he’s there is just going to lead to something quick in a closet or a bathroom somewhere, as it always does. Tom’s arrogant and thinks he can do whatever and get anyone he wants, it comes with the territory but you’re the one person who can switch things around. And at this one event for some big-time investor, you two end up in a bathroom, Tom’s hands over your dress and squeezing your ass, his lips attached to your neck, threatening to leave pretty purple marks that scream his name.

And you can feel him smirking the more he assaults your neck, hearing you try to be quiet and you’re giving him everything he wants. You’re wrapped around his finger. And he just can’t help but pick you up and place you on the counter, spreading your legs and you’re pleasing for him to do something, anything. But, you’re in a time-crunch and Tom’s sees this going two ways: he fucks you right here and now and you both go your separate ways for the night or he gets you off with his tongue but leaves you wanting more which would lead to another quickie later one (aka, the one he ALWAYS chooses)

The next thing you know, he’s pulling your underwear down and pulling your dress up, crouching down as he puts your legs over his shoulders. His tongue darts out of his mouth, tasting your juice with a moan and your hand goes to his perfectly gelled hair, encouraging him to keep going. And he does, his tongue darts inside you, marking the alphabet before he switches to his tongue flicking at your clit, his fingers inside of you while you’re covering your mouth to keep quiet, head thrown back against the mirror. And you’re coming underdone within minutes, head spinning and heart pounding.

Tom comes up once he’s worked your through your high, sucking on his fingers with a “pop” and a smirk before “We’ll finish this later.” And doesn’t even adjust himself in the mirror, a proud and confident stride in his steps.

#it would be quit useful if the read more worked on asks #blurbs #thirst hour #tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom blurbs #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #richkid!tom #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #mature #fuckboy!tom #richkid!Tom holland #fuckboy!Tom holland #au: richkid #au: fuckboy #kaylee answers #parkersvibes

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mrs-hollandstan · 5 years

Text

Inheritance || Rich Kid! Tom Holland

Warnings: brief sexual content (fingering, handjob, oral- male and female recieving-), one very brief joke of prostitution, language, suggestive comments throughout, jetlag, emotional messsssss at the end, nudity mentioned, alcohol mention

Word Count: 7,205

Author's Note: I did NOT expect 7,000 words but here part two is to Filthy Rich which is still super popular on my page and my most popular fic I've written. I hope this second part gets just as much requisition and lemme know what ya think!

My Masterlist || Read Filthy Rich (part one) || Add yourself to one of my taglists

You'd met Tom's father a number of times. Sometimes when Tom was chasing you through one of their many mansions, you'd nearly run into him, stopping with a gasp before Tom came to a skidding halt behind you, bumping you the smallest bit towards a man in a crisp, Canali, Prince of Wales Siena suit, wearing a smirk before his son introduces him to the new blood standing before him like a deer caught in headlights. There were other times Tom had brought you to a family dinner where you ate a number of foods you could never buy in your lifetime, served by women in their thirties and forties that, despite the sweatshop Cinderella vibe, still probably made WAY more than you, even on a good day at the country club. Each time you'd come into contact with Tom's family, he loved hearing you talk about how... Addam's family they all were as he finished up his nightly routine. Cold, but welcoming stares. Seemingly forced smiles. Computer generated questions. But then again, who could blame them? Each time they met you, the way you dressed, the perfumes and jewelry you wore SCREAMED broke college student. All while each of them, even the youngest, at fourteen, was practically a hedge fund manager and had their own continent.

But Tom's father seemed most invested in your experiences in the short twenty two years you'd been alive. It was in part, as Tom had explained, that his father had also been born into wealth, Dom's own father a very rich man selling aged alcohol to other wealthy men. Tom claimed that his father was interested in what it was like to not be spoiled, as he put it. He wondered what it'd be like to come from a time where you didn't have money, which he believed, in the most respectful way, to be your life. And of course he was right. You knew what it was like to not have the money to pay the electric bill. You knew what it was like to have to sit in the dark and eat cup noodle in the cold. But Tom would never let that happen again.

Dom insisted on Tom giving you all the privileges he and his son were raised on while you were involved with the family so you could see for yourself what it was like. He loved watching you waltz into his front door with a fresh manicure and possible new hair color along with any dress, perfume, or jewelry Tom might have spoiled you with. He knew that in the beginning of your relationship, you didn't enjoy anything being bought for you. But the longer it went on, the more Tom bought and the less you wasted your breath scolding him.

And as far as Dom could tell, when the three of you walked onto a plane the afternoon you left for Seychelles, Tom was still showering you in expensive gifts. You'd wondered as you wandered amongst the tourists and locals coming in and leaving the crowded airport why you weren't being boarded, just the three of you on one of Dom's private jets. Not that you minded, but the looks you got made you feel vulnerable. The looks of the people that passed made your heart pound in your ears. Like you were part of a circus. Like you were a leper.

"Tommy?" His hand meets your back over the black sleeveless midi sweetheart neckline party dress that clings to your hips and has Tom hanging behind you to stare at your ass just like he likes, completely unaware to everyone's stares or distasteful looks, or the unwavering, nagging feeling you have,

"Yeah babe?" You swallow, glancing over at him,

"W-why didn't we take a private jet? These people... they see us together and they surely think-"

"You're a prostitute? Yeah... I get those vibes too." He shrugs playfully, chuckling when you reach back to swat his chest. Rubbing his thumb along the hollow of your back, he sighs,

"Dad assumed that with all the riches we've invested on you, you might want to take a commercial plane. So its a... a sort of pity thing if you will. He doesn't mind it really. It's like a people watching experience for him." Glancing over his shoulder, you follow his eyes to Dom's face, neck bent to look down at his phone,

"Emails, ya know?" You nod, glancing around at the other people,

"If I'd known I'd get these looks... I would've allowed you to drag me kicking and screaming onto a private jet." He chuckled,

"Now you know what it feels like. That first time you met me and that first time you screamed at me that I was a stupid ass little rich kid... this is what it feels like." Slipping his hand down to just before the shelf of your bottom, he clears his throat, looking around you as if someone would be listening,

"Side note... I love when you kick and scream." You click your tongue,

"Quit it. We're in a public place." He huffs,

"When has that ever stopped us? We're willing and able to join the mile high club once we're on board." You glance over your shoulder at his father again who, taking a break from his phone, gives an unknowing, innocent smile. You return it before finding Tom's dark chocolate colored eyes, your cheeks burning like smoldering embers,

"Don't do this to me now." He chuckles,

"When you look this amazing darling... I can't keep my thoughts off of you. If you were in my shoes, the throbbing in my jeans right now would be disgustingly uncomfortable given you don't know how to harness it." You giggle before his shoulder nudges yours and you focus on getting to the correct gate to board your flight.

Once you board and are waltzing through the first class seats, Tom can't keep his eyes off your bottom. The way it looks as you twist and turn to find the right seat number is driving him wild and the way images of you on your back with the splashes of his cum on your thighs and stomach you allowed him to take a few days ago, the same night as the country club experience has his heart skipping a beat. He's pulled from his thoughts when you turn,

"Here we are. How do we uhh... how do we wanna sit." Tom opens his mouth to speak,

"You two can take the window seats, seeing the sight for the umpteenth time might make me sick." Dom replies through a chuckle. Tom's mouth closes when your eyes flick to his and then down to his lips. He swallows and nods,

"Yeah... what he said." Giving a curt nod, you opt for the window seat, watching Tom stow your bags away with guilt ridden eyes. He smiles as he sits in the window seat opposite you, Dom slumping into the seat a few inches from your own, as far from a window as he can be. When he pulls his phone from his pocket again, Tom licks his lips,

"I feel so far from you." You smile when he hides his hand besides him and moves it to the side, gesturing for you to spread your legs to give him SOMETHING. You give a sly smirk before uncrossing your legs and spreading them just the smallest bit until you know your underwear are showing. He quietly squeaks, his eyes cutting to his father when he spots the black silk stuck to your skin,

"I know, but even if you were sitting in your dad's spot, it wouldn't help. We'd still be apart." Tom nodded, glancing up again when his father raised his head for a brief moment at the mention of his title, eyes unmoving from small screen in his hand. He gives a smile before his head returns to it's original place. Tom swallows, closing his eyes when you cross your legs as more people board the plane. He shakes his head of naughty thoughts, staring out the window until the pilot announces takeoff. Your eyes wander his body, lingering too long on the bulge in his jeans that only you know is there. And its inflicted by you. Nearly twenty minutes in, Tom glances up when you stand,

"Show me the bathroom babe? You can get a drink." When you wink, he nods and takes your welcoming, outstretched hand. Turning to Dom, he smiles and Tom swears he knows the real reason you're asking him off,

"I'll bring you a beer." He mumbles, allowing himself to be drug off to the much larger bathroom than towards the back of the plane. He dips inside with you, his arms encircling your waist and his hands placed over your bottom as you hold his face and kiss him softly. He hums into you,

"Fuck... God you're perfect. I'll never, not love you in this dress baby." You clutch his shirt when he leans in to kiss and nip at your neck,

"No hickies just yet... not yet love." You murmur, feeling him attempt to bruise the underside of your jaw. You whimper and moan, his lips making your nipples harden beneath the polyester of your dress. He draws the thin strap of your dress from your shoulder,

"I didn't... I didn't bring a condom. My wallet's in my backpack." You shake your head,

"Let's just... I'll give you a handjob. You can finger me." He practically whines,

"But baby..."

"Fine, I'll blow you." Shrugging your dress off, Tom hums at the look of your bare breasts, reaching for them, his fingers following as you crouch to free him from his pants. When his cock springs free and you lick your lips, he hums, leaning down to press his lips to your own almost too gently,

"I don't think... I've ever loved someone like I love you." Gasping, you take hold of his length,

"Is THE Tom Holland... self-centered rich kid telling me he loves me more than himself?" He bites his lip, watching you stroke him,

"Ha ha, very funny." Licking at his tip, he licks his lips,

"Fine... you wanna be like that... no blow. Handjob is fine. I'll finger you. Make you scream my name so you know how much I love you." When you stand, stumbling in your heels, he kicks your legs apart gently. Sliding his hand between your thighs, he strokes your folds over the luxurious panties, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth. Your eyes dart up when he leans in for another kiss. Swatting his hand away, you push your g-string down, letting it fall around your feet,

"We can't be here long. We gotta hurry." Wrapping your hand back around him, you stroke him a few rough times, moans slipping from his thin lips. He reaches out again, hand resuming its place between your thighs where two of his fingers slip into your soaked center, his thumb pressing and rubbing at your clit. The two of you moan together, eyes locking every so often. The more focused, the harder and faster you tug him, the more he speeds up. He can feel his orgasm building as you can yours. He presses down on your clit when you whimper, leaning in to press your lips to his clothed shoulder,

"Cum for me my pretty girl." He coaxes, fingers curling to stroke your g-spot. Your knees nearly give out, Tom rubbing your clit a little rougher. He glances down at you hand, bound tight around him,

"Baby... fuck that feels good." Laying your head against his shoulder, his fingers speed up just the little bit that you need, thumb stroking your clit as your body convulses. Your brain goes fuzzy, hand faltering as your orgasm tries to consume you. Tom crouches, cheeks squishing between your thighs as he sucks at your clit. Your head falls back, fingers threading through his unruly hair,

"Oh fuck... oh God Tom, that feels so good." You squeal, gripping the counter in one hand, your foot pressing into his thigh. He hums when you cover your mouth, moaning loudly into your palm as you cum. His eyes are locked on your face, loving the way your eyes are gently closed in pure bliss. He stands, licking his lips of your slick,

"So... fucking... gorgeous." You hum, glancing down at his throbbing cock. Reaching forward again, you give rough, quick strokes, watching his jaw clench. Pushing forward, he presses you to the counter, his cock trapped between you as you try to get him to his high. When he tips his head back again, you lean in, nipping at his neck,

"Baby..." He pants. You suck at his neck,

"Same goes for you..." he mutters, "you're not gonna let me leave marks on you, you're not allowed to leave marks on me." Taking hold of your hair, he gives a gentle tug, drawing you back to face him,

"Gonna cum for me handsome?" He nods, licking his lips again. Watching you crouch before him again, he grunts when you take him into your mouth. He gathers your hair, guiding you along until you're gagging,

"That's it baby... gonna let me cum in that pretty little mouth?" You make a noise, letting him know you'll allow him to. He cocks his head, reaching up to raise his t-shirt over his stomach before you feel his cum coat your tongue,

"Fuckkkkk that's good." He quietly speaks through a shaky voice. Swallowing all he offers, you draw back, pulling his boxers back up to cover him. Pulling his jeans up next, you zip and button them, picking your dress up from the floor. He smiles, leaning down to pick your underwear up,

"That was good. That was uh... you're amazing." Smiling back you slide the straps of your dress up over your shoulders,

"Yeah? Satisfied?" He nods,

"More or less." You click your tongue, snatching the thong back from him,

"You loved it. Don't think I've ever gotten you to cum that fast." He leans in, pressing a kiss to your rosey cheek as you slip back into the material,

"You're amazing darling. Absolutely amazing." Reaching up to stroke his own cheek, you smile warmly,

"Thank you baby. Can't be amazing without you by my side." He smiles back, leaving down to kiss the tip of your nose,

"Let's get back out there... get some drinks." You nod and follow him, the bartender eyeing the both of you as you order two beers and a margarita, eyes cutting to you as he verifies both of your ID's. Tom grumbles, scowling as you walk back,

"What are you suddenly pissy about?" You quiz, cherry at the drink in your hand. He shakes his head,

"He was eye fucking you. You're wearin all this stuff I've bought you, I'm standing right beside you and he wants to do is put you behind the bar on your knees for him."

"Tom-"

"No, I know, keep my voice down. Heaven forbid someone hear me talk about how good your mouth is." He gives a playful smile, handing a beer to his father as you approach your seats again. He helps you sit, sitting across from you with a sigh and sipping from his beer. He eyes you, his heart fluttering at the intrigued look in your eye as you watch the ocean crash beneath the plane.

You really were a sight whether you wore these types of outfits he spoiled you with or just in sweatpants and your university sweatshirt. You were stunning and you were his. No matter what. He loved that fact and you reminded him of it every time you were laying in his bed or on the rare occasion he was in yours. You'd play with each other's hair and you'd reassure him you were thankful for him and in love with him over and over again. And he did the same to you. He wanted you to know how much he appreciated you giving him the chance he knew he didn't deserve. He'd toyed with so many girls around him that he was practically waving a red flag above his head. You'd been cautious in the beginning, but now here you were, his and he wasn't willing to give that up in any way, shape, or form. Not for the rest of his life if things went his way.

---

The eighteen hour flight from New York to Seychelles killed all three of you, you more than the men you accompanied. You were practically dragging your feet to baggage claim, and Tom was holding you up as you leaned against him, waiting for all three of your bags to make their way round.

"Almost done love. Then I'll get you up to the room and you can sleep it off." He cooed, kissing your forehead. You hummed, letting him hold you stable. He kissed your forehead, rubbing your back when your bag made its appearance, leading you out to a courtesy car and helping you into the backseat behind his father. When he climbs in beside you, he kisses the top of your head again as you lean in, head against his arm,

"I want to take you to dinner later. There's a really nice place I think you'll love." You nod sleepily, sighing in his expensive soap and cologne smell. He runs his fingers through your hair, glancing up when you pull to the curb of your hotel. He leads you through the lobby and up to the elevator after his father fetches the keys with a tug on your hand. Once in the room, he points you to the bedroom, letting you go and lay down while Dom runs Tom through the plans for the next few days in the doorway. When Tom returns, he sits beside you on the bed, running his hands across your bare shoulders. He sighs through his nose before leaning in to kiss your temple,

"Get some sleep love. I'll take you out when you wake up." When he goes to stand, you whine and reach back, taking hold of his forearm. He leans in,

"S'matter angel?" You open your eyes just slightly, staring up at him,

"I want out of this dress." His lips pull up in a smile, a chuckle ringing through the room,

"Aren't you too tired for it?" You groan,

"Not sex. I want your shirt." He hums, sliding the zipper of your dress down to expose your bare back. He helps you wrestle from it, licking his lips when he catches a glimpse of your breasts. He pulls his up over shoulders buttoning it swiftly and drawing the comforter back for you to lay under. He kisses your forehead, watching your lashes flutter,

"Goodnight love."

"Goodnight Tommy." You mumble, already half asleep.

When you wake again, it's the middle of the next day. You open your eyes and you swear you've died and gone to heaven. The view from the window wall before you is breathtaking. Few buildings are spread across the area, much shorter than the hotel you're staying in, before a beautiful, sandy beach with the most gorgeous blue water crashing against it is in sight. Standing on somewhat wobbly legs, you walk towards the window, staring out at the beautiful city below you. Your mind is blown and you wonder how you got so lucky to be able to see one of the most beautiful places ever, in person. The sky is clear and the water is just as clear and blue and the people that you can see down on the street, that look like ants, you know are beautiful. Your eyes water and your heartbeat is erratic as you stare down at the ocean, wondering how you were so blessed with the opportunities thrown your way. The door gently creaks open behind you before Tom makes a noise in his throat, opening it fully and stepping inside. He closes it behind him, walking towards you,

"Good... you're up." You make no moves, no noises, you don't say anything to him and the motion has Tom frowning. He stands right behind you, hand placed at your lower back. He moves his head to see your face,

"You okay?" You nod, blinking at the feel of him there. Peeling your eyes from the sight, you look to him,

"Tom its beautiful." He hums in his throat, glancing out at the scene before you,

"It really is huh? I think... I think you're more stunning than anything though. Even in my clothes with your hair a mess." Looking at him, he runs his thumb under your eye,

"My pretty girl." Leaning in, his lips cover yours in a heart stopping kiss and you've never been more happy than in this moment. The way Tom takes your breath away, the way he simultaneously stops and starts your heart, the way he makes your skin burn and tingle is intoxicating. When you reach up and hold his face, he swoops down, holding your thighs tight in his hands and lifting you off your feet. You bind your arms around his neck, his shirt bunched taunt around your hips. Carrying you through the door of the bedroom and out into the middle of the large sitting room, he sets you on your feet before rummaging through the both of your bags and finding the smaller navy blue one,

"Confiscated this because... with my luck, you'd get dressed yourself and I wouldn't get to watch." Clicking your tongue, you sit on his knee, watching him unzip your suitcase. He sorts through the number of dresses you've chosen to bring for the countless expensive dates Tom has planned. After all, your anniversary is coming up and you're on vacation. Why not use that time to celebrate when Tom is free of his father's business. Opting for an Alice and Olivia blue and white tiered high low dress, he draws it from the leather suitcase,

"The... restaurant I've chosen is quite formal and this is perfect. With those strappy heels you love." Smiling, you run your fingers through his unruly hair, leaning in to kiss his cheek, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He sighs, glancing over, eyes lingering on where your breasts are hidden beneath the crisp button up you're wearing. He reaches up, swiftly undoing a button with one hand. Cocking his head when he can see your skin, he swallows,

"I wonder how I got so lucky with you. Everyday that I wake up beside you, or I come to your work to see you or take you out shopping I wonder how I can buy the whole world, yet I can't buy the love you give." His dark colored eyes find yours and he looks almost sad. Like he's losing you when you're right there. You lean in, kissing him,

"And I wonder what cruel god saddled me with you." His lips turn up, eyes fluttering again as you stroke his beautiful, soft curls from his face,

"Y'know... I can always tell when you use that gold flake conditioner stuff. You're always fluffy." He chuckles in his nose,

"Amber gel too. Run your fingers through and it keeps the shine all day." Threading your fingers through for just a moment, you draw back, standing from his lap and starting to unbutton the shirt. Tom licks his lips, leaning back against the velvet of the couch,

"I like where this is goin." Pulling the last button free of its hole, you smile, hair falling to shadow your face as you pull the two sides apart. Tom's eyes wander your body, ghosting past your underwear, before you drop the cotton on the floor. Climbing into his lap, his hand rests on your hip, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows,

"You are... so beautiful." Threading your fingers in his hair again, you give a gentle tug to guide his lips to yours. He kisses you soundly, hands sliding up your skin to press to your breasts. He hums, holding the skin in his hands as your lips dance together. Soon he's drawing back, hands still over your chest,

"I hate to cut this short but... our reservation is at five. You gotta get ready." You nod and kiss him one last time before standing and picking the dress up. Slipping it on, you reach under to draw your underwear down,

"No panties... or a new pair?" Tom licks his lips, slouching on the couch below him and watching the silk leave your skin,

"I uhh... I prefer the none... option but yeah, sure, whatever." He shrugs, watching you search through your bags to find where your underwear are stashed. And when you do, you slip into a black thong flashing Tom for just a moment. He licks his lips as you grab your makeup bag and glance over your shoulder,

"Just a little touch up." He nods and sighs, looking around himself,

"I'll be here." When you disappear into the bedroom, Tom swallows before finding the slacks and button up he planned for tonight, smoothing the dress pants down. By the time he's checking himself in the mirror and taking a deep breath, you're stepping back into the overly large living room, finding your heels and earrings. You slide into the heels before walking towards him, pushing your earrings through your earlobes,

"Now how is that fair? You confiscate my things to see me naked, but you get redressed while I'm gone." Tom chuckles, turning to you and smiling wider as you grab the collar of his deep v button up. Smoothing it down, you sigh and wrap your arms around his waist,

"Trust me, you'll see my dick later. Like I said... we can't get distracted. Our reservation's at five." Leaning in, he drags your hands in his own behind his back, lips falling over yours in a soft, mesmerizing kiss. When you pull back, you hum,

"You look amazing my love." He hums in return, pecking your lips once more before you tug your hands free, heels clicking as you strut away from him, Tom entranced in the way your hips involuntarily sway. You sigh, picking your phone up from the marble side table Tom plugged your phone in at. Glancing back at him, he fishes a suit jacket from the mess of suitcases on the floor, shrugging it on and walking towards you. When he's standing before you, he tucks his hands in his pockets and sighs,

"Ready?" You nod and tuck your phone in his pocket. He smiles, glancing down at your hand which he takes, giving it a squeeze. The smile you flash him is brighter than the sun, and he craves it for the rest of his life. You drag him behind you, turning to him in the elevator,

"I'm glad I came here with you. You're the most important person in my life and as... unnecessary as all of this," you gesture around to the gold plated elevator you ride in, "is, I'm just glad to be here. You feel like home." He clicks his tongue and pulls you in, an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You bind both arms around his torso, closing your eyes when he kisses your forehead. He let's his lips linger, smelling the strawberry shampoo he insisted on buying despite it being somewhat cheap, the few days leading up to you leaving for your trip. He swallows,

"You're home to me. I'm so in love with you and I just... I want you to be happy always."

"Wherever you are, I'm happiest." You quickly impose, looking up into those soft chocolate colored eyes. He smiles before his lips seal over yours, fingers gently stroking your cheek. He pulls back, the air having been sucked out of your lungs when the elevator dings and the doors glissade open. Tom takes your hand again, leading you out into the lobby you vaguely remember being sleepily drug through hours before. This time, you look around, finding all kinds of intricate portraits and paintings lining the large, open room.

"Oh Tom, this is amazing. It is so beautiful in here." He smiles, looking over your turned up face, eyes glistening in the chandelier light glowing above you. He chuckles in his throat,

"You think everything is so beautiful but you fail to realize that you're the most beautiful piece of artwork the world has to offer." Glancing up at him, his hand slips from yours and instead rounds your shoulder, arm draped around your neck. You smile, letting it turn into a giggle,

"Thomas Stanley Holland, king of the cheesiest pick up lines. And you know what... it's not even like the expensive cheese from like, France or Italy, its like sliced Kraft cheese from America." The cute little giggle he retains slips from his perfect, thin lips,

"Oh really?" You nod,

"The cheesiest." His smile widens, eyes cutting down to your lips for just a moment before he fishes the rental car keys from his pocket. Flashing you the key fob, your eyes make out the Chiron signature before he flips it in his palm to show you the Bugatti emblem you know so well per the long garage back home filled with cars that collect dust rather than being driven. When he'd explained to you the price of each car, you swore you swallowed your tongue, wondering how long it would've taken you to conjure up the 3.2 million he'd managed for just one supercar without even putting a dent in his inheritance from his father.

"Just got the new La Voiture Noire Bugatti but... I didn't get it in time from the Geneva Motor Show." He shrugs as if he dirtied something rather than bought a brand new car that were all sold before they were even pieced together in the factory. Tugging the handle on the sleek, black sportscar in front of you, you duck into the leather smelling vehicle, looking around yourself. The red and black interior is beautiful and rough, a brash contrast to your delicate blue and white dress you wear. But when Tom climbs in beside you, his slack nearly blend with the seat below him. He sighs, shifting to make himself comfortable before he clicks a button on the side of the fob, the branch of a key springing free. He sticks it in a slot in the dash before reaching to the steering wheel to press the button labeled 'engine'. He hums when the car purrs to life, reaching down to the shift paddle and putting it into drive. Running your hands across the leather center console, your hand lands in Tom's lap, him looking down at if after pulling from the curb,

"What do you think you would do for work if you had to?" He glances at you for just a moment before his eyes are back on the road as he drives through the road splitting the skyscrapers. He shrugs,

"Probably act. I dunno. I haven't thought about it much." Reaching down, he takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it, eyes averted to the road. You smile, watching him silently as he maneuvers the streets, pulling up in front of a restaurant on the beach before too long. After clambering from the car, he rushed around to your side, opening the door and holding his hand out. He helps you from the car, closing the door behind you and lacing your fingers,

"I figured we could walk on the beach after. The sun will be setting." You nod silently before he leads you inside. The staff is friendly and Tom sits across from you in the booth, your feet wrapping around his calves which he reacts to with a warm, happy smile. Once you've both looked over the menus and ordered, the conversation turns back to cheesy where Tom gushes about how perfect you are and how much he loves you. He takes both of your hands and rubs his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes averted to the table, only glancing up into yours every so often until your food arrives. After that, until you've finished and the waiter is inquiring about dessert, the communication between the both of you is minimal, nearly nonexistence. When the coconut and banana tart arrives, you and Tom share it, Tom telling you of when he first came to Seychelles at six and had the same dessert with his family. The smile on his face shows you it's a genuine memory full of love. Despite his parents handing him and his brothers everything, there is a lot of love that courses through the family and he loves not only his parents, but his brothers more than anything.

By the time dessert is over and Tom is paying for the meal, hiding the total beneath his palm and giggling along with you as you fight to see it, the restaurant is picking up and outside, the sky has turned from a bright blue to calm, pastel hues of purple, pink and orange as the sun sets beyond the horizon. Tom leads you out into the warm night, turning to you as you stand beside his rental car,

"Figured we'd just ditch our shoes. Rather than sinking into the sand and getting it everywhere." You nod, slipping your heels off as he undoes his own, sliding them and his socks off and setting them on the passenger side floorboard, he watches you do the same as he shrugs out of his jacket. Standing again, he closes up the car and takes your hand, both of your bare feet padding along the asphalt as you walk towards the beach. Once the sand meets you feet, you sigh and Tom chuckles, pulling you out towards water. You stand at the edge, mud slipping between your toes as the water crashes in, bubbling over your feet. You squeal and Tom cackles,

"Its cold!" You squawk, squeezing his hand. Tom chuckles, staring at you as water washed over you and your face sparkles as the remaining sunlight strikes the crystalline water. He swallows,

"Let's walk a little further down. There's a place down the beach where you can see in the valley." You nod and follow, binding your arm around Tom's waist, his own arm around your shoulders. He sighs as you stroll along,

"Are you enjoying your visit so far?" You nod, laying your head against his shoulder,

"Its gorgeous here. I've seen the sights ya know? London is beautiful and New York I'll always love and... those trips to Australia and Fiji were fantastic. It's a dream to be here... with you." When you look up at him, you both stop walking, Tom looking in your eyes and then down at your lips before he leans in, softly kissing you. His hand slips down to your chin, holding you to him for just a moment longer. When you pull back, a puff of warm breath fans out across Tom's own lips and he sighs,

"You're so perfect."

"You've said that a lot today." He chuckles once more and shrugs,

"It can only get annoying and repetitive if it isn't true. Which it isn't." Cocking an eyebrow at you, you click your tongue,

"But it is. I've got my issues and that makes me imperfect."

"Wrong. It makes you unique, which is perfect." Rubbing the middle of your back, he walks you along, stopping just where the thin neck of hills around the small bay connects it to the ocean. He turns you, hands rested on your arms. He sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder,

"Here's your sight. You think all of those other views are so stunning but here's the one that I've grown up on. My family and I ate at that restaurant, walked down this same beach, sat in this same spot time and time again. Its remained one of my favorite places, and that's why I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you, the most important person in my life, in one of the most beautiful places I remember from my childhood." Looking over at him, he gives a soft smile. You smile back, leaning in to kiss his nose,

"You're adorable." His hands disappear from your arms, head gone from your shoulder momentarily. You stare out at the crashing waves, watching them change color in the sun,

"It is beautiful. Living in New York most my life, the water is always cold and because it's so cloudy you don't see these sort of colors on the water. But you're more beautiful. I-" Turning, you find that your normally perky, tall and lanky boyfriend has crumbled to one knee. A ring that sparkles in all the colors on the ocean's currents sits in his fingers, his eyes looking between your own that hold tears already. He swallows,

"I brought you here because... I wanted to have you in one of my favorite places. I wanted to propose to you in the same spot I sat in as a kid with my family. I want to know that the woman that keeps me most grounded, the woman that I want to spend the rest of my spoiled life with, agreed to marry me in the most nostalgic memory I have. Y/N Y/L/N... will you make me the happiest man alive, give me that last part of my world, and marry me?" The tears are free flowing down your cheeks, the makeup he's bought you over the months and years holds true to waterproof and doesn't smudge as the tears roll down your cheeks. Your lungs constrict and you fight for air as you nod,

"Yes. Yes I'll marry you Tom." He doesn't waste a moment, sliding the Tiffany Novo, Pavé diamond, platinum band engagement ring on your finger before swooping you up, lifting you off your feet in a hug that takes your breath away. Your fingers thread through his hair as you sob, his arms tight around you. He let's out a breath, truly relieved you said yes. He loves you more than anything and the idea of you not saying yes scared him. But here you are, about to celebrate your three year anniversary as an engaged couple, in one of the most beautiful cities ever.

Tom never told his dad of his plan, never indulged on the secret of the ring that was hidden amongst his luggage. He desperately wanted to be cheesy and flash it in the Tiffany blue box, but it was too bulky and you'd notice. But the occasion was perfect. You had no idea and Tom was immensely proud of himself for not popping the question the number of times the urge came about. He was glad that it worked out perfectly and that he had you to stand by his side for the rest of his life now. As his wife. He leans in and kisses you cheek, setting you back on your feet. When he draws back, you lean further in to kiss him softly,

"Who knew?" You look around you, clearing the tears and Tom chuckles,

"Harrison. He isn't here. There aren't any pictures, no commemorative videos, it's just us. Just you and me to remember this moment. That's the way I wanted it." He reaches up to caress your cheek before you step forward to hug him properly,

"I love you so much Tom." He kisses the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you,

"I love you more angel. Forever now." Sighing. you listen to his erratic heartbeat, his fingers in your hair. A thought suddenly hits you and you stand straight with a gasp,

"Are you telling me I get to have my Pinterest dream wedding? Is that was this proposal means?" Tom's eyebrows furrow,

"I-I guess. I didn't know you had a wedding Pinterest board."

"What woman doesn't?" He smiles at the look on your face. When your eyes lock again, he sighs through his nose,

"You have no idea how relieved I am you said yes. Now I can sleep at night knowing that all that uncertainty, all the hate you have for me being spoiled isn't a worry. You're mine and nothing makes me happier." Tsking, you reach up and stroke his cheek,

"If there was any dislike of anything on my part, I wouldn't have stayed for almost four years. You're my life now and I can't imagine anything else. I want to sleep in the same bed as you and wear your shirts and walk around our house naked and make you breakfast and cuddle. I want to marry you, surrounded by our families and dance the fucking night away and have the most amazing honeymoon and someday, I wanna have your kids and have OUR family. There is no one... absolutely NO ONE I want to do this with more than you." Tears are running down both of your cheeks now, the sight of you in Tom's eyes clouded through the warm diamond like tears. You hold his cheeks, clearing his tears, his hands placed on your hips and his forehead rested against yours. He sniffles, opening his eyes again,

"I've known I wanted you since I picked you up for the day in the boutique. When you walked out of your front door and you looked so... normal. You felt like home. You were everything I craved. The normality, the pure, unpaid for love, the respect for just the small things in life. You're all I've ever needed and I just... I'm do glad that you're in my life. That you're mine." You stand in silence for a few moments longer, just holding each other. The only sound is the other person breathing, and the crash of the waves against the shore and the rocks not too far from you. Tom stands back, sniffling and pulling his phone from his pocket. You watch him, swallowing as he takes the hand that is weighed down with the fifty four thousand dollar engagement ring from Russia,

"What're you doing?" He sniffles once more,

"Calling my mum. She's been asking me when I'm going to do it and it's been eating at me because I haven't told her. Now I can." Holding the phone up to his ear after dialing his mother's number there's a pause as he holds your hand out, smoothing over the soft surface of the diamond decorating your hand,

"Hey mum." He speaks low, almost inaudible to you over the waves,

"Yeah, I have something to tell you." He sniffles and there's just one more pause before he spills everything,

"I proposed to Y/N... we're engaged." And your heart couldn't be happier watching his jaw tremble and more tears glisten in his eyes as he looks up, locking eyes with you for just a moment before he looks up at the sky. You'd officially gotten through to the spoiled rich kid's stone cold heart.

Permanent Taglist: @embrace-themagic @delicioustommy @spiderman-n @winters-beauty @smexylemony @lolabean1998 @musiclover1263

Tags of people I that showed the last part love & I feel would wanna read the second part: @thollandz @clairesrainbow @r0ger-tayl0r @marvelsperalta @empressdreams @cartiertom

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x oc #tom holland x you #rich kid!tom #rich!tom #richkid!tom #richkid!tom holland #my writing #tom holland smut #rich kid tom #rich kid tom holland #tom Holland one-shot #tom holland x plus size reader #tom holland x poc reader

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loserholland · 5 years

Text

what if i write a fwb!richkid!tom x richkid!reader smut piece based off of boyfriend by ariana grande? ahah jk jk... unless??

#send me your thoughts #i really wanna write this lol #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #richkid!tom holland #fwb!tom holland

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silkscream · 2 years

Text

pink film

synopsis: being forced to stay home for the summer starts to feel worse when you have to deal with your sister’s engagement party. not to mention the return of your ex-boyfriend is starting to bombard your sanity.

pairing: richkid!tom holland x richkid!reader

genres: richkid!au, exes to lovers, camgirl/camboy → for @venomsilk’s valentine’s day bingo!

warnings: explicit content (18+ only): oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, overstimulation, camming, some angst

wc: 11.3k

a/n: happy valentine’s day! this took me so long to write and it was also supposed to be like 5k but i went overboard hfgdhjkdhf. the original title was pink moon/blue film (a blue film is slang for... yk... Adult Films) but i decided that this fic is full of pink and red, as are most of my fics. feel free to give me feedback and i’m sending a virtual rose to all of you today 🌹

mini playlist to go along with the fic <3

No amount of champagne in your system would be able to tolerate the people in your backyard. Yes, you knew most of the people in your cookie-cutter town, but you’d avoid anyone you even remotely knew at all costs when you were home for college. But rather than spending the summer backpacking across Europe with your best friend, your parents much preferred that you stayed home to learn the ropes of the family business, not to mention you were forced into an internship set up by your father. Even if you tried, you couldn’t escape them, and you certainly couldn’t opt out of your older sister, Ava’s, lavish bachelorette party. Or engagement party. Whatever the fuck this was.

Ava outshined you every chance she got — perhaps because she was someone who actually enjoyed vanity since childhood and was thrilled whenever there was an opportunity to show off your family’s wealth with her clothing and her attitude. She likes to joke about how you’re probably adopted or that when you came out of the womb, your face was stuck in a “fucked up little frown” and it hasn’t budged since. Not for the next twenty-one years of your life. And now, you’re hopelessly pouring golden liquid into your glass, watching it slosh around as you roll your eyes to the sound of your sister squealing along with her friends and fellow club members of stupid little elite society. Your sister used to boast about how philanthropic it was, but really, it was an excuse for her to climb the social hierarchy and get blackout drunk on the way.

Leaning over the porch of the backyard, you scan the scene. You blend in easily as you stalk in your little orb, unbothered by the rest of the family and about one hundred of Ava and her fiancé, Matt’s, friends. Swallowing the champagne down your throat, you briefly catch the eye of a friend of a friend, waving awkwardly when your brain quickly realizes that you have to wipe the scowl off your face at that very moment. Fuck accidental eye contact.

“Enjoying your night?”

You jump when a hand finds itself on the small of your back. When you turn, you see Matt in his suit, putting his hands up in surrender as he apologizes for startling you. You give him a tightlipped smile and smooth out your vintage Miu Miu dress.

“Yeah. Just, um, tired,” you mutter.

“You know there’s other stuff to drink than just champagne, right?” Matt nods to your glass. Your fourth glass.

“I’m trying to be good,” you shrug.

“C’mere.”

It takes you by surprise when he takes your hand and leads you into your kitchen. Without a word, he takes a flute from the cabinet and rummages the fridge quickly for an opened bottle of champagne, Cointreau, and cranberry juice.

“What are you doing?” you raise an eyebrow as he fixes a concoction. Once he’s done, he pushes the champagne flute towards you with a smirk.

“It’s a poinsettia. Champagne, cranberry juice, and orange triple-sec.”

“Impressive,” you nod, taking a sip.

“Matty! There you are!” Ava suddenly appears. You admit that she looks as beautiful as ever, peachy glitter eyeshadow adorning her eyes that matches her orange dress. “Wow. Finally, you two are bonding. Sorry if she said anything off-putting to you, darling.”

“I’m right here!” you snap at your sister. She flashes you a brief fake smile laced with plastic and nudges Matt towards the door.

“Don’t scare any of my friends away, please. Also, I saw your boyfriend,” she teases, nudging you.

“What? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Helloooo, our neighbor? Tommy Holly?”

“We stopped seeing each other,” you hiss, crossing your arms.

“Sheesh, wonder why,” Ava responds, making a face.

Your cheeks are warm once she leaves you alone in the kitchen. You can’t help but clench your jaw at your sister’s attitude, how constantly belittling she could be. Not to mention that the knowledge that Tom Holland is in the vicinity makes your stomach flip onto its side. You considering going upstairs to hide in your room, but for some reason, you want to stick it out. As if you’re challenging yourself. As if maybe seeing your ex-boyfriend would be like throwing knives with all of the possibility of deepening cuts you already had, but you tell yourself after your fifth drink that you’d be able to dodge them. You always did find pleasure in pain.

You genuinely hate admitting that Tom was the love of your life. Ever since you were kids. You were never friends necessarily, despite your families being rather close with one another throughout your adolescence. It was in your teenage years when you started to gravitate towards Tom at family gatherings. You would daydream about him at school, think about what he does in his room alone or what his mouth might taste like.

By the time Tom went off for university, you were sure it was time to get over him. You had to focus on your studies. Even if Tom went to university close enough to commute, there was no point in pursuing him when he’d be in an environment where he could probably take home anyone he wanted. Girls that were far prettier, far more mature. Girls from university. Plus, you were certain he didn’t think anything of you anyway. Even getting him to look at you was like grasping for straws.

One night at the beginning of year thirteen, Tom had climbed up your window. It was bold of him, really, considering he had always been particularly quiet around you growing up. You were friendly with the twins considering they were in the same year as you, but you and Tom were more acquaintances than childhood friends — he might’ve been in your room only once or twice before in the whole time he’d known you. So when your window opened and his curly head popped in, you nearly had a heart attack.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe. If looks could kill, Tom Holland would be six feet under.

“I was bored,” Tom mumbles. He says it like it’s a logical answer.

“No, really, what do you want? My parents are asleep!” you whisper-shout. It was funny how often you think about this boy, yet when he’s right in front of you, you’re yelling at him.

“I just... I always see your light on really late and I was curious and we never hang out even though our moms are basically best friends?” Tom rambles, running a hand through his curls. He looks crazy standing in the middle of your bedroom. “Also, I’m very intoxicated and very lonely and tend to be very impulsive in both states. But also, I’ve always wanted to see if I could crawl up to your bedroom without falling on my face. And look! I did.

“Okay, Spider-Man, you’ve gotta be quieter. But fine, we can hang out,” you sigh. You smile at him warily as you grab his shoulders lightly to help him sit on the bed.

You had talked that whole night, not sleeping until four in the morning. From then on, the two of you were inseparable. He was smitten with you for a year until it came time for you to graduate. The two of you were already having trouble with miscommunications, along with your own stress of starting your first year of Oxford University. But God, you were in love with him. You were sure he was, too, but as that autumn came, it seemed like the warmth that usually radiated from Tom was fading with the change of seasons. To put it briefly, during the breakup, Tom mastered nonchalance and you didn’t.

That’s why you’d hardened in your first year of Oxford. It was nice to be physically away from Tom, but his face showed up in your dreams every night. He’d left a mark on you that you would attempt to scrub off until your skin was raw, but the remnants would still stay like a tattoo.

Although both of you stayed civil — friendly, even — the thought of bumping into him in this current vulnerable state made you want to shove your head into an oven. A cigarette was all you needed. It’s not a habit you’re proud of, but it helps in situations where you need to occupy your mouth with something, and screaming enough decibels to break glass was certainly not an option.

Before you grab your cigarettes from the pocket of your coat in the foyer, you step back into the kitchen and grab a large mug and fill it with the rest of the champagne. Might as well dull the senses.

The cool air soothes you once you step out of your front door with your cigarettes, exhaling with another gulp of your champagne to wash down your nerves. You shiver at the view of the sunset, rosy-blond light flooding a backdrop of blue so that your bare arms were awash in liquid light. Your suburb feels so still. When the sky was this organically beautiful, it was funny that it’s set with the mundanity of luxury architecture — ornate, spiky gates with artificial lawns in front of houses that looked drawn out of a Barbie movie. God, how all that cleanliness was so uninteresting.

A sharp exhale. Malaise is what you feel. Psychological brain fog. The footsteps padding towards you on your large front porch snaps you out of your lamentations and when you turn your head, you’re met with the last face you want to see.

Tom is slouched coolly on the railing of the porch stairs and looks down on you. His hair is longer than you remember him ever having it. He smiles at you softly as if the two of you are close friends.

“Guess we had the same idea,” Tom muses, taking the last puff of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping out the cherry with his heel.

“Since when do you smoke?” you retort.

“Since when do you?”

“Since someone broke my heart,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

You hold your breath.

“Nothing.”

When he crouches down, for some reason you briefly think he might touch your shoulder, embrace you somehow, but he keeps his distance as he sits down on the stairs with you. Part of you wants him to touch you. He looks beautiful under the emerging moonlight with his silky button-down over his broad figure, his hair in smooth curls, and his hands adorned in shiny rings. Even his smell draws you in — the familiar, nostalgic scent of a fireplace and the hint of vanilla. You realize you haven’t been this physically close to Tom since before your breakup.

“Um, how’s Oxford?” When he looks at you, you feel your rib cage open like the jaws of a shark. You’re vulnerable from the alcohol but also slightly buzzed, cigarette in your hand as more of a comfort than an antidote.

“Good. How’s London?”

“Good. University is university,” Tom shrugs.

“Mhmm,” you hum. The silence between you two feels like a fragile bubble. Neither of you are daring to break it. You feel almost relieved when he speaks again.

“I like your dress.”

“I know. You were the one who picked it out at the store,” you give him a small smile.

“I was?” Tom furrows his brows in confusion.

“Yes, we were at a consignment shop in Rome. I had one vintage Prada and this vintage Miu Miu and I couldn’t decide between them so you picked Miu Miu for me.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. He tries to hide the small smile on his face as he thinks about the two of you spending time together. The memory comes back to him, how the shop was one of many the two of you visited during your brief trip to Rome during an autumn holiday. “Well, did I make the right choice?”

“Yeah. I get tons of compliments. All thanks to your impeccable taste,” you chirp. You’re sarcastic in your tone but Tom can’t help but light up when he sees your eyes glimmer in a disposition that’s almost friendly. Although you’re polite to him in public, he always feels like you’re throwing daggers at him. Your civility feels almost eerie. Usually, you wouldn’t even tease him as a friend. It was something he missed, and he loved that he was hearing it in your voice now.

You settle your gaze on a rabbit in your front yard instead of Tom’s face. Slender fingers wrap around your still-burning cigarette. You frown as you watch Tom take it from your lips to his own, taking a long, smooth drag and blowing it in your face.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to aim for your face,” Tom mutters, waving his hand in front of you. It makes you flinch.

“Thief,” you sigh. You purse your lips when you hear him snicker quietly.

“So. Matt Atkinson, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“That’s so funny. Considering Ava is kind of, like… you know. And he was a stoner loser when I went to school with him.”

“I know. Guess he girl bossed really close to the sun.”

Tom chuckles at your comment. “Yeah, I barely recognized him tonight. Super hot.”

“Oh, man, maybe you should’ve made the move before he turned into a yuppie!”

“Please,” Tom rolls his eyes. “Remember when Ava actually had a crush on me?”

“Yes. She was so fucking annoying about it. That’s probably why I always avoided you.”

“You avoided me?” Tom exasperates, frowning.

“Yes. She was all over you when we were like fifteen. You know I can’t stand to see her happy.”

“What, were you jealous of her? I didn’t even like her back then!” Tom teases.

You grimace as you bite your bottom lip. You always thought that maybe you’d have a chance with Sam or Harry when you were younger because Ava had already claimed Tom. And God, was she obnoxious in trying to win him over to the point where you’d just avoided them both. Luckily, her crush had died down once she’d gone off to university. Meanwhile, Tom was starting year thirteen while you were starting year twelve, and so your infatuation with him began.

“I wasn’t jealous,” you protest.

“But, really, did you fancy me when we were kids?”

“We’re still kids,” you shrug.

“Y/N.”

“No. Not until I was in twelfth,” you tell the truth.

“Interesting. I’d liked you since you were in ninth,” Tom admits casually.

Still do.

You look at him with a wide gaze, blinking a few times before flitting your eyes towards something else entirely.

“Oh, God, the Tom Holland? Liked me?” you scoff, though you settle for a tone that’s more playful. You bite your lip while you continue to process his words. You know you shouldn’t feel excited to know that Tom had liked you first considering you two were over now. That gummy feeling in your stomach that you felt as a teenager for Tom would never happen again.

“Yes, so much that I asked you out and spent a year with you.” His expression is innocent but there’s an intent of earnestness.

“Huh. So many lifetimes we’ve lived. And now here we are.”

“Yeah,” Tom breathes. “Here we are.”

Awkward beat. Tom coughs stiffly.

“Um. Can I?” he nods towards the mug in your hand. You hand it to him.

“Jesus, I thought this was water or something. This is so much champagne, Y/N.”

“I needed it,” you shrug. You feel wired all of a sudden. “Do you ever think about how there’s a parallel universe where we don’t meet at all or like, one of our families never move here so we don’t ever cross paths? Or a universe where we grow old together and I bully you in the nursing home. Or one where you and Ava actually get together. Or—”

“One where we’re still together.”

You look at him, suddenly feeling an immense weight in your stomach. Visions of the two of you come back to your brain like an alcohol-induced fever dream. But no, this is real. He really is sitting this close to you. He gives you a sad smile and takes a sip from your mug.

“That’d be weird, wouldn’t it?” you quip, biting the inside of your teeth. Tom can’t tell if your sudden ditziness is a result of your drunkenness or if you were being sarcastic.

“I don’t know,” he says softly. There’s something in his brown eyes that you can’t fathom. You remember when you could always tell how he was feeling just by looking into his eyes. Tom would call you a psychic, how nothing could get past you. How ironic it is that you’re right in front of him and you’re drowning in his eyes, naive and estranged. “I’m… really sorry about what happened to us, Y/N.”

You chuckle in a way that’s almost mocking. Tom thinks you’re about to cry.

“You don’t have to do that right now. It’s corny,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Everything’s fine, I promise. I’m very glad we’re good friends now.”

“Are we?”

“Sure we are.”

“I want you to know that I didn’t want to hurt you. And I was really in love with you. I regret a lot of the things I said.”

“It’s been like three years, Tom. It’s in the past.”

He closes his mouth, trapping the guilt inside until it’s lodged in his throat. You sigh when you realize your tone might’ve been too cruel.

“I’m not upset anymore, really. Time’s passed, you know? I was eighteen. We can just move on and be okay,” you bite your tongue. Even though you’d always wanted this apology, the memories of the breakup come back in a flood. You needed to be sober to have this conversation. You didn’t even want to have this conversation.

“I— Alright. We’re okay,” Tom nods slowly. He wants to say more to you but your demeanor is dismissive. He’s too afraid to upset you now. He doesn’t know how you’d react if he expressed any feelings of attraction or desire towards you again, so he decides it’s best for him to keep his distance. He’s just barely sorted out his current feelings about you. All he knows is that ever since he arrived at your house tonight, his eyes were fixed on you in a way that mirrored how he used to look at you.

Subconsciously, he leans towards you very slowly. Or maybe the world is spinning and you’re hallucinating. With your luck, maybe the champagne was mixed with acid or something horrid. No, this is all real. And everything feels like it’s spinning and his cologne is the only thing you can smell. You flutter your eyes as if expecting him to kiss you.

It seems that he’s anticipating the same thing from how he looks at you. Both of you inch closer to one another with slow vehemence but are interrupted by the sound of your front door opening.

“Oh, oops, did I interrupt something?” Ava giggles. Her arm is slung around a blonde whose knees are wobbling. She looks between you and Tom and smirks.

“Not at all,” you mumble.

“You remember Ginny from school, don’t you?”

“Hi, Y/N!” Ginny yells excitedly. She beams at you while she supports herself with Ava’s arms. When the blonde tries to touch Ava’s face, she slaps her hand away.

“Hi, Ginny,” you giggle. Ginny was probably the only one of Ava’s friends who was nice to you when you were in secondary school. Funnily enough, Ava was always the meanest to Ginny.

“Well, she extremely needs to go home because she’s a fucking lightweight and smoked a few spliffs so she might vomit everywhere. But she doesn’t have a ride. And knowing that you’re an actual killjoy and are probably completely sober, can you please drive her to her flat?”

“You can’t just call a taxi?”

“She needs help getting into her bed!”

“Are you serious?” you exasperate. “First of all, you prick, I’m fucking drunk. Second, there really isn’t anyone else at the party?”

“I’m pretty sober at this point,” Tom speaks up. You’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Oh, Tommy, you’re always the sweetest.”

“Ava, why don’t you come with us since she’s your friend?”

“Because I’m the hostess! Anyways, Matthew needs me. Ginny, get in the car!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mumble in your breath as you help the girl get into the backseat of Tom’s car. She giggles childishly as she sits herself down. You get into the passenger seat and slam the door shut.

“Watch the doors,” Tom warns. You glower at him, turning up the radio.

“I’ll put in the directions.”

Once you get Ginny into her flat, she effortlessly flops onto the couch.

“Can we get Chinese?” she whines.

“No, Ginny, you have to drink water,” you let out a sigh as you get her a glass of water. Tom awkwardly stands beside the couch as Ginny fidgets.

“God, this is the drunkest I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Really? Drunker than when you drank an entire bottle of vodka on your eighteenth birthday, passed out in the tub, and we had to carry you from the bathroom back to Ava’s room before our parents woke up?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe not drunker than that,” Ginny murmurs dreamily. Tom can’t hold back a laugh and it almost validates you to hear it. He pulls a blanket from one of the chairs to cover Ginny, who looks like she’s melting into the couch. She blinks up at the two of you with tranquility. Almost like her brain is made of air.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” she coos.

“Oh, we aren’t—”

“Thanks—”

You both answer in unison, giving each other amused looks. You raise an eyebrow when you see a slight flush over Tom’s cheekbones.

“So awesome. God, you’re so nice. So much nicer than your sister. I mean, she was great tonight, but I— sheesh, so tyrannical. She is, I mean…” Ginny trails off her babbling, eventually drifting into sleep. You feel tired sitting in her living room as you listen to her breathe. Tom locks eyes with you and nods towards the door. You nod.

“Goodnight, Ginny…” you whisper, following Tom out the front door.

The tension between you feels electric when you’re back in the car. You look out on the road blankly, unsure of how to start a conversation. You can feel Tom’s eyes burning into you. Wordlessly, he starts his car.

“Well, that was fun,” he concludes.

“Totally,” you retort bitterly.

“Do you want to maybe—“

“Better get back before my mother realizes I’m missing— oh, sorry. What did you say?”

“Nevermind,” Tom gives you a tightlipped smile. You recognize it. He always uses it when he’s trying to hide something.

“What were you about to ask me?”

“Ah, I don’t know, we could go get like, ice cream or something. Not that your sister’s party wasn’t a riot,” he mumbles sheepishly. You toy with the idea and the images of you two spending more time with one another this late at night makes you feel nostalgic, almost nauseous in the way the desire burns in your stomach.

“It’s late,” you reply softly.

Tom nods, flashing you that smile again. It’s like he knew that would be your answer. When you’re in your neighborhood again, he passes his house and moves onto yours.

“You didn’t have to drop me off here, I could’ve just… walked from your driveway to mine,” you say as Tom pulls into your driveway.

“Saved you the trip of several feet,” he shrugs. “I’ll see you at brunch tomorrow, then?”

“What?”

“Our families are getting brunch together?”

“Really? Jesus, no one tells me anything,” you huff.

“Damn, I’m sorry that the thought of eating waffles next to me is so horrid,” Tom teases. Heat rises to your cheeks but he laughs it off, insisting that he’s kidding. “I’ll see you tomorrow, rabbit.”

Your eyes soften at the familiar nickname. No one’s called you that in years. Certainly not Tom.

“See you.”

The next morning, you’re stretched on the chaise lounge chair in your room with your legs swinging over the seat the way you used to when you were a child, blinking up at your ceiling while you listen to the voices of your family stirring downstairs. The night rendered itself partially sleepless because of your usual insomniac, constantly wired and hemorrhaging constant intrusive thoughts about the boy next door. Conveniently, when you’d woken up that morning in your underwear and too-small crop top, Tom had been at his window the same exact time you’d drawn your curtains. A tiny smirk and his little three-finger wave were all it took for heat to rise up to your cheeks before you could even make sense that you were going to be spending time with him and his family later that morning.

You have very little to do other than skim through your novels and play dress-up in front of your full-length mirror until your sister begrudgingly trudges up to your room to wake you from the dead. You roll your eyes before she can even get her manicured hand on your doorknob. You have everyone’s footsteps memorized at this point. Ava’s sound like a galloping giraffe.

“Mum sent me to make sure you haven’t hung yourself with your sheets,” she crows as she saunters into your room. “Is that my fucking skirt?”

“Huh? Oh, this little number?” you smirk, curtsying after you smooth down the satin of your Prada wrap skirt.

“Why is it that when you wear it you look like a whore?” Ava frowns, crossing her arms as she tilts her head towards you like a dog.

“Maybe because I’ve got better legs.”

She scoffs. The jangle of her charm bracelet makes her sound like a dog whose collar is bouncing around.

“The green kind of makes you look sickly. As your sister, I recommend something else,” she tuts, her glossy mouth turned up in a saccharine-sweet smile even when her eyes resemble a cartoonish villain’s. “Be downstairs soon, the Hollands should be over by eleven.”

You breathe again once she slams your door closed behind her. An irritated groan rasps out of your throat. A frown in the mirror stares back at you, so you beam at your own face in mocking sweetness as if you’re an actor preparing for a scene. Another deep breath.

God, you can fucking survive brunch, at least. Get it together.

You swap your current blouse for a white chiffon frill top with cut-out details that aren’t revealing enough for your mother to complain about but enough for you to not sweat so much under the summer sun. Discarding the Prada skirt, you settle on your most breathable pair of black silk trousers. The outfit is plain but elegant, with the top somewhat fairy-like as it flows in the long sleeves. Your hair feels more haphazard than usual, so you pull it back with a claw clip so that your gold hoops are on display. The same hoops that Tom had gotten you for Christmas years ago. You sigh.

“Y/N, you look lovely!” Nikki compliments you as soon as you get to the courtyard behind your house. Her springy, floral perfume wafts in the air around you as she pulls you in for a hug.

“Thank you, Nikki, as do you!” you smile warmly.

A quick scan at the table causes your eyes to fall on Tom briefly. You look away as quick as lightning, though your smile lingers just slightly. He seems to sense the tension and when you spare a second glance at him, he softly smiles at you.

“Love, would you mind helping with the drinks?” our mother beckons you. You nod and walk over to the serving table to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. Nursing a pitcher of mimosas and another of bloody Mary, you quietly greet the Hollands one by one as you pour their glasses for them.

“Y/N!” the twins chirp in unison, which makes you chuckle.

“Hi Harry, Sam,” you grin. “What’s up?”

“Just happy to be here, we haven’t seen you in ages! Paddy thinks you look pretty, by the way,” Harry murmurs, poking his youngest brother on the side.

“Harry!” Paddy huffs, blushing carnation-pink and smiling awkwardly at you. He’d taken a liking to you ever since he was a small child since you were over often enough to hang out with the twins or babysit him occasionally. The small crush he’d developed on you was as adorable as ever.

“Tom,” you nod. “Umm, mimosa or Mary?”

“Morning, rabbit. Mimosa’s good.”

You don’t know why the sound of your old nickname makes your skin feel warmer and warmer, or maybe it was the sun beating down all of you and the fact that you underestimated what a long-sleeve shirt would do for your body. You also seem to underestimate your ability to handle two full pitchers of liquid considering your slight scuffle in serving your guests. Your heel scrapes the pavement the wrong way and a bit of mimosa trickles onto Tom’s lap.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!” Your face is definitely as hot as the sun right now. Mortified, you attempt to paw at his thigh with a cloth but he holds your wrist to stop you.

“No worries, you didn’t even spill that much. Here, let’s set that down,” he offers.

“You div,” Ava loudly comments. “I need that Bloody Mary, hellooooo?”

“Here, pass that down.” Tom politely passes the pitcher down the table with the slightest grimace, trying hard as ever to not roll his eyes at your sister. You, on the other hand, go a little quiet, choosing to settle down at the table across from Tom. You feel grateful when your parents decide to serve the food, finally.

“This looks amazing,” Dom comments.

“Thank you,” your mother smiles, her eyes crinkling. “Eggs Benedict is Ava’s favorite.”

“Lovely choice.”

Sitting down now, your lip curls over the rim of your glass as the orange liquid gulps down your throat, soothing you in the summer heat. Tom seems to sense your anxiety, getting your attention by kicking you in the foot lightly under the table. You frown at him, giving him a look that reads, not now.

In response to your raised eyebrows, he turns the same expression, except with a smirk instead of a frown. You think that the slight leap of your heart is from the nerve-wracking energy of having to put a face on for your guests. Definitely not the quirk of Tom’s mouth. Definitely not.

“Congratulations on your engagement, love birds,” Nikki murmurs to the supposed stars of the show. You begin to zone out while the rest of the guests seemingly gush over the ring and the party and the future wedding party. You couldn’t care less. You’re better at daydreaming, tucking whatever anxiety you feel under your skin. Tom keeps catching your line of vision and each time his brown eyes feel like they’re relaying secret messages.

“Y/N, Nikki’s talking to you,” your mother says. Suddenly you’re snapped out of your short-lived reverie, now blinking back at everyone around you.

“Sorry?”

“How is uni going for you? Seeing anyone?”

“Ah, it’s, um, good,” you smile. “Yeah, it’s been great, I’m really… into my studies. I don’t really have time for dating.”

“You could be if you lived a little,” Ava interjects with her mouth full of arugula. She resembles a bunny when she chews, down to the beady red eye. “I had to physically drag you to prom!”

“To be fair, prom does suck,” Harry quips. You chuckle in response.

“She likes to reminisce times where she fully peaked because she can’t go back in time,” you dismiss.

Ava makes a guttural sound with her mouth.

“Mum! Are you really going to let her speak to me like th—”

“Got ya more fruit, babe,” Matt interrupts, returning to the table with a bowl of fruit salad like an angel.

“What were you studying again?” Sam asks you.

“Gender studies.”

“That’s where the money is,” Tom mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“Just a joke, darling.”

He smiles thinly, though you can tell from his eyes that he’s truly teasing in good faith. He crosses his arms over the breadth of his chest. You notice how neatly creased his Prada button-down it is along with the veins on his forearm.

“Okay, well, economics is just astrology for the stock market, no?” you retaliate.

Tom lets out a breathy chuckle and kicks you under the table again. You kick back a bit harder and he smiles widely.

“Oof. She got you, mate,” Harry laughs.

Your phone buzzes in your lap. Once you view the notification on your lock screen, you quickly cover it as you tuck it back into the pocket of your trousers before excusing yourself to the bathroom. Tom’s eyes seem to be searing in the back of your head, but once you’re in your own kitchen, you exhale in relief. Your phone buzzes again.

clintwestwood66: need to see those perfect tits, baby

You roll your eyes.

It’s not that you needed the money. Any level-headed person would most likely question your reasoning for selling nudes of yourself because of your current social status and wealth, and any other person would most likely just call you a greedy whore. You swear to yourself it’s the instant gratification of your phone buzzing with the sound of a cha-ching, how that dopamine release alone made you feel powerful for a split second. You were fine with showing off to strangers — men were a pawn to you, anyway. Above all, you were simply bored when you’d started out. That was all.

In the ornate bathroom mirror of the first floor, you look at your rosy cheeks and the way your hair falls into your face, and for some reason, you’re thinking about how Tom is perceiving you. Twirling, your eyes trace the curves of your body, the parts of your skin that showed through your sheer shirt, the dip of your hips. You have to shake the thought of him.

Undoing your blouse, you pivot your hips just slightly so that the light streaming through the window next to the sink falls in a certain pattern on your abdomen. You open your phone camera and hold it up to your face to cover it, capturing the lace black bra you’re wearing in the afternoon light. Sighing, you frown at the end result, now adjusting your bra so that your tits were more exposed, spilling out of the cup. There we go.

A sudden rap on the door startles you. Swallowing, you quickly readjust yourself and fix your shirt before sending the photos.

“Just a second!” you call to the other side of the door when you hear another tap. You open the door only to nearly collide with Tom’s chest. He takes the initiative to hold you by the wrist as if you’re a delicate thing, but mostly, you’re just taken by surprise.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Remembered to wash your hands?” Tom raises his brows, mouth curling into a snide grin.

“Obviously,” you huff, quickly turning your heels back to the courtyard. The sun is still blinding and you realize you feel dizzy. You blame the mimosa instead of the curly-headed boy in your house.

The summer had barely started, but even now, it feels like it’s progressing at the pace of drying paint — slow and uneventful. You yearn about the places you could be instead, renewing yourself completely in a foreign country where no one knew your name. But no, you’re sat in your room frowning into a mirror as you attempt to pluck your eyebrows the way your mother had taught you when you were sixteen.

You take a sip from your wine glass and look out of your window. A black window parallels yours. For some reason, envy bubbles up in your stomach, that on this Saturday night you were spending your time haunting your room while Tom was out probably at a bar with his friends or acquaintances or lovers. Truthfully, the mundanity of your life forced you to develop intrusive thoughts upon the return of Tom Holland, because what was more scandalous and romantic than to have another love affair with someone you already had a history with?

You realize this is a foolish thing to want. Again, you blame your thoughts on the glass of alcohol in your hand. If being desired was what you wanted right now, you’d take matters into your own hands. This is why, instead of going to bed like the rest of your household, you decide to change into your newest lingerie set from Agent Provocateur — mesh burgundy with embroidered lace detailing. A swipe of dark red lipstick and you’re set.

Persephone’s live will begin shortly.

You admit that you enjoyed this alter-ego of yours. It was a twisted take on how you would imagine yourself when you were younger — that you would break out of your shell and transform into some ethereal, powerful being. Maybe you’d wanted superpowers. You do kind of feel like a hero in a fucked up way, but only because of the mask you wear on your live streams. You decide in your current age to settle for sex appeal instead of magical powers.

“Hey guys!” you smile, taking a sip from your wine glass as you lounge in front of your laptop camera. You stretch slightly like a cat to show off your finger, your other hand settled on your hip as you slide it slowly across the supple skin of your bare thigh.

“Sorry I haven’t been online lately. Been really busy with work and family stuff… I had to sit through the worst brunch of my life today.” You look over to the chatbox.

“Hey, Phil! Glad to see you’re on. Miss me?” your laugh is like a music box while your voice is lower than it usually is from the way you purposefully try to sound sultry — a femme fatale facade.

“Welcome to the cum show,” you read off. “Ha! Hmm, what should I use tonight, huh? My fingers or a toy?”

Spidey69: [Tipped 20 tokens] want u to use the biggest dildo

“Sheesh,” you respond after seeing the notification and comment. “Just for twenty? I don’t know…”

Your eyes widen when you look up to see a brown head of hair in your window, making you gasp as you watch the figure fall to your bedroom floor clumsily.

“Aw, fuck,” he groans, clutching his side. While he’s still on the floor, you quickly throw your mask under the bed and shut your laptop.

“Tom? What the fuck are you doing here?” you screech.

“Wanted to see you. Duh,” Tom slurs, standing up. He looks you up and down and smirks. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Yes, you were,” you exasperate. You’re dumbfounded by the fact that Tom had pulled his stunt at the most inopportune time, and suddenly embarrassed by the fact that you’ve got nearly nothing on. “Why are you here?”

“I just said I wanted to see you!”

“That’s a lie.”

“No, I’m not lying,” he mumbles. He runs a hand through his curls. You notice that they look softer than usual, almost tousled in the way he looks like an off-duty model. The smell of his cologne is already permeating the air. “But I’d taken an Uber from the pub and then happened to get locked out of my house. So it was either sleep in my backyard or this.”

“You couldn’t have called one of your brothers?”

“They left the pub earlier because they were tired. You know how the twins are if you interrupt their sleep.”

“These are just excuses.”

“Correct. Smart girl,” Tom grins. “Also, I haven’t had a Spider-Man moment in a minute. Mostly just wanted to see if I could do it without falling to my death.”

“I don’t think I’m worth dying for, you div,” you roll your eyes. You adjust yourself so that a blanket drapes over the lower half of your body while you hug the pillow to your chest.

“You’d be surprised,” he shrugs casually. Your brow quirks up at his statement but you decide to leave it be. You’re still on your defensive, watching him carefully as he walks closer to you.

“Were you… taking nudes?” Tom asks awkwardly. He looks you up and down. Although you’re slightly covered up now, he can still make out the floral details of your lingerie and it makes him blush. He swallows his excess saliva and licks his lips absentmindedly.

“None of your fucking business,” you seethe, grabbing another pillow to throw at him. It whacks him in the head then falls flatly into his lap. He doesn’t react, only chuckles his signature breathy laugh.

Even when you’re angry with him, you look breathtaking. You always do, he muses, as he watches your eyes change from frustration to soft curiosity. Your eyelashes flutter at the speed of a hummingbird while he holds your eye contact. When your gaze flickers to your laptop, he makes a realization.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Cybersex?”

“Tom.”

“I thought you weren’t seeing any—”

“Why do you care?” you nearly yell at him. “It’s none of your business, really. Please get out of my room.”

“Y/N, I seriously can’t get into my fucking house. Also, you don’t need to cover up, I’ve literally been inside your—”

An irritated groan vibrates from your mouth as you attack Tom with another pillow, this time shoving it into his face as you try your best to put on an oversized t-shirt from the foot of your bed while you grumble for him to not look.

“We know everything about each other,” he slurs, his eyes softening once you’re still and sitting cross-legged next to him. “So if you’re like, trying to sext your long-distance college boyfriend, that’s fine, I can just… chill in another room, I don’t know—”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Tom,” you dismiss. You can’t even look at him because of how embarrassed you feel. “Also, if I did, you really were just like, ‘oh my ex-girlfriend has to have some FaceTime sex, guess I’ll just chill somewhere else.’”

“Well, did you want me to be jealous? You can do whatever you want, I don’t own you.”

He looks at you with his watery gaze and for a second, you think that there may be yearning swimming in his pools of brown, but you decide it's his drunkenness. Tom looks like a puppy like this — you always took pleasure in taking care of him when he was drunk when you dated, mostly because the ordeal always activated your nurturer instinct and that he was often very goofy when he was drunk. Goofy, adorable, and clingy.

“Pinot noir?” he asks, nodding towards the bottle of wine on your dresser. Before you can protest, he takes a sip straight from the bottle until you swat him away and snatch it from him. “What? ‘m not drunk, I swear. How else would I have climbed up your window?”

“You were blasted out of your mind when you’d jumped multiple fences after that one party when we were sixteen.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment for my impressive athleticism,” he sneers, grabbing the bottle again. “Adrenaline wakes me up, baby.”

Tom claps a hand on your shoulder in an oddly platonic embrace, but then his hair descends to your collarbone where he twists a strand of your hair. Your breath hitches when you realize how close he is to you. You inhale the smell of amber from his cologne — it’s subtle after the day passing, but it smells just as sweet as you remembered it.

“Hey, I was wondering where this was,” Tom smiles softly when he looks down at your shirt.

“Oh, um, you left it here. I guess I forgot to give it back,” you murmur, looking down at the old Trinity College shirt on your body. You wouldn’t tell Tom, but it was one of maybe three articles of clothing that belonged to him that you still had, and wearing it was one of your greatest comforts. There was something nostalgic about it even though you weren’t together anymore. You always like to deny to yourself that you still yearn for him and decide that you merely appreciate the memories. You are also a bad liar, even to yourself.

“Looks better on you.” His voice is low. His fingers trace your jaw and it’s then when you notice how blown out his pupils are.

“Are you high?” you narrow your eyes.

“Not that much,” he mumbles, exhaling in your face. His breath smells like beer and mint. Your bottom lip twitches when his thumb grazes the side of your mouth. It feels like slow motion when he entices his thumb to the center of your lip, and you welcome it by widening your mouth.

“Fuck,” Tom exhales. He doesn’t realize he says it out loud.

Slowly, he takes his thumb out of your mouth so that he can meet it with his own. The kiss is like melting ice, your guarded disposition unraveling just for him as the feeling of his tongue against yours weakens your knees. You’re too occupied with his mouth to notice how hard he already is. The kiss intensifies as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

The small mewl that comes from your mouth in between your kisses drives him insane. His eyes flutter open in surprise when you pull away from his mouth along with your warmth.

“I—um,” you stammer.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I—”

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you cut him off.

“You did?”

“Yeah. But I think it’s… it’s a bad idea,” you gulp.

“Right,” Tom nods, inhaling sharply in his nose. He rubs his face in an attempt to do something with his hands. He wishes you would let him continue. “Sorry. You’re just really captivating.”

“Thank you,” you smile shyly, looking away.

“We can… we can do something else. Actually, there was this movie I saw recently and it made me think of you.”

You’re still caught in your post-kiss haze that you don’t realize the detriment of Tom sitting on your bed to open your laptop, but by the time your senses snap back to you, the damage is already done. Your eyes widen.

“Huh,” Tom blinks at the screen. “Who’s Persephone?”

“Y-you weren’t supposed to see that.” There’s a quiver to your voice as you sit down next to him, crossing your arms. You’re too mortified to make eye contact with him right now.

“It isn’t my intention to invade your privacy or anything but is this like… OnlyFans or something?” he asks. You look at him briefly and he looks earnest in his curiosity. You sigh.

“Yes. No. It’s… I do live streams.”

“And you fuck yourself?”

You wince at his choice of words, but nod nonetheless. Your cheeks are burning up faster than a thermometer in a pot of boiling water.

“That’s… fucking hot,” Tom rasps breathily. He bites a lip as he scrolls on your profile slowly. “Not to be that guy, though, but you don’t need the money.”

“I know. I don’t really know why I do it,” you admit. “I guess I was just bored and it was easy to feel… validated. Not that I’m extremely insecure or anything, I just… I don’t know. It’s fun sometimes.”

“You make a lot of money?”

“A decent amount.”

“Interesting. You never wanted to be recorded before.” There was that Tom again, scrutinizing you with his sly smirk. You feel almost feverish about the situation. Of course, he’s taking the opportunity to tease you about not wanting to make… films when you were still dating him. You remember the argument you’d had about it but eventually, it became a thing of the past. Something about having a video of the two of you sounds much more alluring now, especially in the spur of the moment. You look at Tom with something in between contemplation and salacity.

“Well, I was in the middle of a stream when you showed up uninvited.”

“Shame. Maybe we should give the people what they want then. Finish what you started.”

“Really?”

“I’m teasing, love,” Tom chuckles. “The idea of that is really fucking hot, though.”

“Something tells me you actually want to do this.”

“No, not at all. The idea of fucking a pretty girl in a skimpy lingerie set has no effect on me whatsoever,” he retorts sarcastically.

“In front of strangers?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, taking another swig from the wine bottle before putting it back on your bedside table.

“We’ve fucked on the green at the golf course,” he reminds you, and the memory materializes fresh in your mind. It had been Tom’s idea of course, and although you weren’t necessarily an exhibitionist, that was probably one of the most exhilarating sexual experiences you’d shared with him.

There’s a longing in the way he looks at you, something in between genuine desire and the anticipation of a trick. His smile is coy, alluring. You look at him long enough to notice the erratic beat of your pulse ticking away at the moment of you drinking him in, blowing air through your teeth before you sink your claws to his shoulder. Mouth to mouth, palm to thigh, eyelash to cheek. It’s just as slow as the last kiss but he feels more open now to paw at you, his hand tracing the details of your garter belt.

“I’m serious, this is really fuckin’ sexy,” he drawls. “You never wore anything like that for me.”

“I don’t wear anything for you,” you chuckle, sighing as he nibbles on your ear. You shove him away, causing him to pout. “Save it for the show, Tommy. Now get off-camera.”

You take off your t-shirt and you swear Tom’s eyes grow three times their usual size. When you lean over your bed to get the mask you’d thrown under it, he slaps your ass playfully. You swat at him once you’re back to your laptop and logging in.

Persephone is LIVE.

“Sorry for the interruption, boys. Percy’s back,” you grin as you adjust your hair.

Spidey69: we thought u got kidnapped!!

Shy_guyxx: look so sexy queen

Whiskeydick23: [Tipped 30 tokens] I wanna see that ass, miss

“You will be seeing this ass, whiskey dick,” you chuckle. Your eyes flit to Tom’s briefly, holding in a laugh when you see his expression, both bewildered and impressed. He mouths ‘wow’ to you but you don’t catch it as you’ve gone back to entertain your fans. “I’ve got something special for you guys tonight.”

You turn to Tom again gesturing to the underside of your bed and then to the mask on your face. He blinks, confused, then again in realization. You flash a Hollywood smile back to your screen.

“My first collaboration,” you announce. “With none other than Hades himself.”

At this point, Tom is undressed down to just his boxer briefs much to your surprise. You raise your eyebrows as you scale the curve of his biceps and down to his toned abs, mouth salivating already. You clear your throat.

“C’mere, baby,” you say, the register of your voice going lower to be seductive. Tom awkwardly shifts himself to the space next to you, a thin smile spread over his features as he scans the comments without a word.

“He’s shy,” you reassure your audience. “What do you guys want him to do to me? Huh?”

“I thought I’d choose that,” Tom protests.

“C’mon, Hades, it’s for the boys.” He shivers at your touch, already succumbing to you. This version of you is a pleasant surprise to him. You’re truly a temptress, a vixen at heart, and although Tom would never admit to the fact that you still crossed his mind when he would pleasure himself, the version of you in his daydreams paled in comparison to the corporeal being in front of him.

Shy_guyxx: is he bigger than your toys? lol

Batman4ever: [Tipped 100 tokens] i bet she can deepthroat so good

“Good news, boys, looks like he’s already hard,” you tease, running your hands over Tom’s thighs. A soft red spreads over his cheeks and you notice the small freckles speckled over his crooked nose. You didn’t realize how much you missed them until now.

You start by pushing back against your pillows, moving the laptop so that your audience had a side-view of the both of you. Your mouth licks against his warm abdomen, lips making wet smacking sounds as you descend to his boxers. Already, his hand is tangled in your hair in praise. His soft groans are subtle but are all too clear for your ears.

When you look up at him with doe-like eyes, Tom feels like he might choke. God, how pretty he looked with his mouth ajar. You don’t waste any time in pulling down his boxers, marveling at his hard cock springing free for you.

“You wanna fuck my mouth?”

“Yeah. Got a dirty mouth on you, huh,” Tom exhales, pushing your head down towards the head of his cock. Pre-cum lines the tip of the head and then onto your tongue as you lick stripes down to his shaft. His soft moans immediately gratify you, so you take him into your mouth as far as you can. “Oh, shit. Yeah, that’s it. Fuck.”

You watch in awe as his head tips back in response to you swirling your tongue around his tip. The teasing is agonizing him, how slowly you deepthroat him while slowly pumping his shaft. Without warning, you go faster, settling on an even rhythm as you get him deeper into your mouth until his hips buck, causing you to choke on his cock in the process. He grips tightly on your hair, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck. You lock eyes and he swears he might cum too early. The sight of you in your lingerie with your mouth around him makes him feel like he’s in a dream. He wants to moan your name so badly but he knows he can’t.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts. You giggle quietly at his reactions, taunting him with a slower rhythm despite the fact that he’s writhing under you. You surprise again by going deeper very abruptly, making him whine. It’s something you hadn’t heard in a while that certainly stirs something inside of you.

“Babe, I’m close.” He taps your shoulder, pulling your hair slightly to your confusion, but before you can say anything, he pulls you close to him for a sloppy kiss.

“You want me to stop?”

“I didn’t wanna cum so fast. Show’s just started,” Tom smirks. He surprises you by tugging you by the wrist, hand under your bum to coax you onto his lap. You sigh sweetly as you grind onto his length. He inches closer to you to whisper in your ear. “Y’ready, love? I don’t know if I can wait any longer.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Do you think you deserve it?”

“I don’t know, do I?” he echoes you with a smirk that shows off one of his dimples. It makes your heart melt for a split second before you jolt in response to his thumb circling your clit.

“Oh,” you exhale, closing your eyes as you grind onto his hand, the wetness of your cunt slicking his fingers. You watch in awe when he removes his hand and takes his fingers into his mouth.

“You taste so sweet, baby.”

When he attacks your neck with kisses, biting hard enough to create a bruise, you’re nearly falling apart for him to the point where you can’t take it anymore. Easily, you slide down onto his cock, causing you both to take sharp breaths. As you grind against his lap, he grips your soft skin harshly, rough and hard as if he’s trying to anchor you to his body. You wouldn’t mind staying tethered to him considering how fucking good it feels.

You indulge in the feeling of his taut skin, fingertips raking the length of his muscular back as your head lulls into his shoulder. He pulls your hair to expose your neck so that he can continue to suckle on your collarbone, biting down harder every time he hears you moan louder and louder.

Even with his mask on, you can see his pupils blown out, matched with his mouth pink and wide open, a crimson tint aligning the pucker of his lips from the red wine. You accidentally graze noses before you close in the distance to kiss him passionately, first knocking teeth slightly until your tongue slips into his mouth.

He growls at how deep he is inside of you. Forcefully, he switches your positions, pushing you with your back against the bed so that he’s on top. Grinning at your laptop, he moves it to a new position to show off the two of you in the frame. Your legs entwine together with Tom in the middle as he thrusts into you, rutting his hips in tandem with your erratic heartbeat and hushed breaths.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he whispers as he nibbles on your ear, and the notion makes your chest tighten. Maybe it’s the warmth in your core, supposedly from the proximity you are from an orgasm. But hearing him admit that he missed you even in the heat of the moment makes the entire experience change for you.

“F-fuck… Tom…” you whine without thinking. You want to gasp because of your mistake but he simply covers your mouth with his large hand to muffle your moans. Your eyes are nearly rolling in the back of your head as his cock hits your sweet spot, causing your legs to tremble.

“Feel so fucking good inside you,” he mumbles, grabbing your thighs and propping them upwards so that he has better access to your cunt. “You’re close, baby, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you mewl. “Fuck, I’m g-gonna…”

“Gonna cum for me?” Tom moans breathlessly, gripping a fistful of your hair. “Who else makes you feel like this, huh?”

“N-nobody,” you whimper. In the throes of ecstasy, your body quickly ascends to orgasm, legs shaking as the warmth in your cunt spreads to the rest of your lips. Tom’s whimpers mesh with your own as you ride out your high, and before you know, he slides out of you just to prop your thighs on his shoulders so he can suck on your clit. You cover your mouth to quiet your moans because truthfully, the feeling of Tom’s tongue on your pussy before you can even come down from your orgasm makes you want to scream.

It feels even more intense when he inserts two, three fingers into your cunt as he sucks on your clit at a constant rhythm. You feel like you’re about to disintegrate from the pleasure alone that you have to tug harshly on his hair so that he can release himself from you. When he obliges, he peppers sweet kisses along your thighs and hips as you tremble under his touch.

“Too much?” he sneers.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you breathe. He’s about to say something else teasing but you cut him off with your lips. This kiss isn’t as frantic as the other ones of the night – it’s both erotic and sweet, almost… romantic. His hand slides from your hip to graze your neck, softly rubbing at the nape of it where he can feel your pulse. It almost makes his face go red the way he feels when your hands are in his curls just the way he likes it, soft and combing through the way you used to.

When you pull back, he’s staring at you like you’re both a ghost and his guardian angel.

“Do you w-want to keep going?” he stammers. You nod. You kiss his jaw once again, murmuring something that sounds a bit like “I want to make you cum.” You get on all fours in front of him and gasp when he slides into you, his hand sweeping your hair away from your neck so that he can get closer to you to kiss your jaw from behind. His thrusts are slower than you expect. From the soft moans coming from his mouth, a flood of emotion fills your insides for reasons that aren’t concrete in your mind. You close your eyes.

You decide to lift your hips and thrust back onto his cock harder, which makes him pick up his rhythm so that he slams into you with more force. It hasn’t been long since you two had picked back up again but you already feel your walls pulsating with another oncoming orgasm.

“Oh, God, I’m close.”

“Fuck, me too,” you hear him pant.

“Cum for me, f-fuck–”

“Wait…” he breathes, slipping out of you quickly.

“Why did you–”

“Just wanna see that face when you cum,” he smiles. It makes your face feel hotter than it already was.

You’re flat on your back and he’s doing the thing again – thrusting into you with a slow pace that feels like honey dripping into tea, raindrops flowing down a windowpane. Your breath hitches from the way he handles you with such care, his kisses descending down your jaw like he’s planting flowers into the bed of your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he thinks out loud as he watches your head lull onto the mattress as he fucks into you blissfully, your hair spread out on the bed like you’re underwater. You gasp sharply when he rubs your clit and he can tell you’re already on the brink of release.

“I’m gonna–”

“Look at me when you cum,” he grovels. His hand is around your neck the way you like it while he thrusts into you roughly, but he releases his grip to hold your chin up so he can see your expression. “Fuck, that’s my girl.”

He continues to rub your clit as you cum, your moans littered with expletives and mumbles. God, you can’t even think straight. You want to say his name so badly because it’s the only word in your mind.

Watching you cum forces him to mirror your desire, so he slips out of you and palms himself above you until he spills onto your stomach. His pants and breaths are all too familiar to you, causing butterflies to stir inside of you as if you weren’t just getting fucked by him. Watching him orgasm makes you feel like a voyeur even when he’s cumming because of you.

Once Tom is done, he collapses onto you, breathing heavily into your neck as you absentmindedly finger-comb his brown curls.

“You good?” you giggle.

“Yeah, fuck,” he exhales. His voice is low, raspy like he’d just woken up from slumber. “‘m more than good.”

“You’ve got…” you awkwardly point out, bending over to retrieve your t-shirt to wipe the cum off his stomach and your own.

“Thanks,” he responds, to which you laugh again because of how shy he’s suddenly gotten. Was he this shy because of you?

When you look back at your laptop, your eyebrows raise at the number of coins that your audience had tipped you. There were thousands, not to mention the number of viewers you had were the highest they’d been since you’d started camming.

Shy_guyxx: Fuck that was so hot

Madhatter67: did anyone screen record that? i would pay for that video

Peterporker12: Holy shittttt

“Thanks for the tips, baby-loves,” you grin, blowing a kiss to the camera. “And thanks to my… special guest for being here. Bye!”

You log off with relief, taking off your mask. Tom is looking at you with his mask off as well, his brown eyes wide as if he’d just reached his peak on ecstasy.

“You still high?” you question, slapping his cheek playfully to get him out of his trance.

“Maybe on you. That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, it was,” you nod, shutting off your laptop and plopping your back onto your bed. Your skin feels electric, pulsing once you realize that Tom has taken your hand in his.

“We should do that more often,” he smiles, inching closer to you and raising your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “Off-camera, too.”

“So you meant it?” you whisper, kicking him lightly like a schoolchild. He interlocks your legs together in an embrace. “That you really missed me?”

“Of course I did,” he swallows. “Haven’t been able to kick you out of my mind since we broke up. Since I met you when we were young, Y/N. I think you’ve made a home in my head.”

“Forced eviction helps.”

He chuckles at your remark. You hate admitting how much his laughter comforts you, makes you feel like he’s your favorite cup of tea on a rainy day. In Tom’s brain, you are the definition of perfect, and because of that, he had been grappling with letting you go for years. He had decided he knew you best out of anyone, and because of how he viewed you like you were the sun itself, he also decided that you were perhaps better off without him. It feels selfish of him to even be in your bed right now. There’s a gnawing in his chest that reminds him what the two of you had just done and he swallows his guilt with pride. He’d always had that recurring dream of him fucking you one last time, has always convinced himself that was a natural response to breaking his own heart. But now that he’s lying with you in your bed this close to you, he realizes that all he’d ever wanted was you. Wholeheartedly. For you to be his again.

“Could never evict you. It’s hurt before but I think… you being in my head helps spruce up the place. Makes me feel like a better person,” he confesses, kissing you on the nose.

“You’re not just saying that because we just had extremely good sex, are you?” You scrunch your nose.

“I mean, that definitely helped, but no. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped being in love with you.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, trying to hide your smile. Tears were pricking out of your eyes and you blame your hormones. There were plenty of times in the past that your body would be flooded with emotion after sex because of how everything with Tom felt so intense. Always like a movie. You had never felt that way about anyone else – it had made you think that the way you viewed your relationship with him was completely delusional.

“I mean it, Y/N.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Tom’s smile grows ten times its size. Tucking you closer to his body, he peppers kisses all over your face. He thinks that if he could bottle your giggles to keep, he’d never have a bad day in his life again.

“Our families are gonna have a riot when they find you emerging from my bedroom in the morning,” you sigh.

“Let them think what they want,” Tom shrugs. “Soooo… we’re splitting the money, right?”

You scoff, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. When you look at his raised eyebrows, you laugh. “Fine. I guess you were the star of the show.”

playlist in plain text:

frank ocean - ivy

yeule - bites on my neck

the weeknd - tell your friends

lana del rey - watercolor eyes

fkj, ((( o ))) - vibin’ out

lykke li - sex money feelings die

the neighbourhood - you get me so high

anna of the north - lovers

deftones - sextape

lo-fang - blue film

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland rpf #rpf #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #exes to lovers #richkid!tom #neighbor!tom #ex!tom #richkid!reader #peter parker smut

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hollandsmushroom · 3 years

Text

Hi I need a beta reader for my richkiddom!tom fic and I was wondering if any of you wanted to volunteer??? Like its not totally done yet but I just need feedback!

#rich kid tom #richkid!tom #richkid!tom holland #tom holland x reader

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allthingsfuckd · 2 years

Text

fancy seeing you here | richkid!Tom x richkid!reader

: ̗̀➛ trope: strangers to friends to lovers

: ̗̀➛ genre: fluff, smut (18+)

: ̗̀➛ word count: 7k+

: ̗̀➛ summary: reader meets a charming new member of her parents' social club at a party

: ̗̀➛ warnings: 18+ minors DNI; swearing; smoking; mention of drugs (pot, only one sentence), drinking; vomiting; descriptions of tennis and golf; loads of rich people problems jawfjajid; smut (unprotected sex, oral male&female receiving); and may i say again,, minors dni!

: ̗̀➛ a/n: i really love this fic and i put my whole heart into this one, it’s one of my favourites to write. i haven’t been mentally okay so my writing may be a little funky here and there. also, i only know the basics of tennis and golf so if i fuck up any descriptions im so sorry ajdiaw. i tried doing as much research as i can so please leave a review in my ask, i’d really really love to improve my writing. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it!! also I'm so sorry for posting so late, i just woke up :D

here's my taglist!

my other works

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

“What are you standing here for? Mingle,” a voice said patronisingly, making y/n roll her eyes.

“Ha ha. You have it easy ‘cause you’re a man. You men hide together in the rooms and gamble. Leaving the women to mingle and dance and look pretty,” she slumped against the wall in the corner of the ballroom. “I’m not even a debutante, why am I here?”

The Regent Society, a society especially for those of wealth, prestige and honour was founded in the 60s. And such societies, organise events such as this one — the debutante ball, where girls who are of marriageable age (16) come out and present themselves to society. To simply put it, a misogynistic, degrading event (even though they’ve declared it was now held simply for tradition —not to marry off minors). y/n’s parents, unfortunately, fell prey to the gimmicks of the society’s events, meaning she and her brother, Eli are to attend and behave accordingly since they were young.

Eli took a rather long sip of his whisky. “Toughen up. You’re off to America next year, no more balls or gowns or mingling,” he examined the extraordinarily bright room, taking yet another sip and swallowing down the warm whisky, together with the little pride he had left. “I’m stuck here because my dear wife insists on coming to these events to please our darling parents.”

“Oh yeah, how’s the Mrs doing?”

“Peachy,” he grimaced. A pity really, Y/N thought. Being a socialite in a profound family had its repercussions —to be married by the age of 30, or succumb to the sickly tradition of forced marriage. Her brother, unfortunately, was a victim.

Soon, the orchestra began their concerto and everyone’s attention was drawn to the gaggle of girls in white dresses swarming the dance floor. The same dance routine and song every year.

“God, I need a smoke,” Y/N rolled her eyes. She scanned the room, looking for the nearest exit.

“Go,” he proceeded to his mother who was intently looking for her unmarried, remarkably eligible daughter.

The music was muffled on the balcony. Tom huffed the smoke out of his mouth and took a swig from his beer as he admired the garden, wet leaves glistening under the moonlight. London was known for its depressing rains but Tom saw it as his muse.

The music grew clear, the squeaky brackets of the door accompanied making him turn his head to the door behind him.

A lady appeared, adorned in a floor-length dress. The door was closing behind her when her dress got caught on the edge of the door, tugging her backwards. She yelped and cursed. Tom stifled a laugh, pursing his lips.

She looked at him and quickly glanced down to the floor. “Bloody floor-length gowns,” she muttered under her breath pulling her skirt from the door. He chuckled, amused by her struggle, and turned away to hide his amusement to not embarrass her.

Y/N wanted the ground to eat her up. The man was attractive. Dark-haired, and well-defined features. And he was clearly laughing at her. The night could only get worse. She reached into her pocket —one she had sewn in secretly— to take out a pack of cigarettes.

And it did. She palmed her dress, feeling for her lighter.

“Brilliant,” sarcasm in her tone, she put the cigarette into her mouth, repeatedly shoving her hands in her pockets as if a lighter would miraculously appear.

“Need a light?” the man offered, picking up his lighter and walking towards her.

“Thanks,” she took the lighter from him, smiling sceptically. He smiled back.

“I take it you’re avoiding the ball?” he leaned against the fence, scanning her from head to toe.

She chuckled. “You mean the snob fest?” he laughed, puffing smoke out of his mouth and nose as he did. “I’ve never seen you around. You attending the ball as well?” she filled the silence.

“Yeah, I am. I uh," he chuckled, almost embarrassed to admit. "My parents felt that being members in one club wasn’t enough so they joined another one,” she nodded her head slowly.

Tom loves his family, very much so in fact, and they all get along incredibly well. It just felt like his whole life was decided for him. Be it attending balls, or weddings, going to the best schools, taking after his father's law firm. No say or control over any of the mishaps in his life.

Y/N’s head tilted back as she huffed her smoke out to the sky, moaning softly to not be heard by the stranger. “What have you got in your cig?” the man asked, amusement in his voice. “Is that pot?”

The woman laughed heartily. “No,” she sighed. “I quit smoking about three months ago but I really needed this today,” she admitted.

“Is it really that bad in there?” he mused.

She scoffed and nodded. Her cigarette depleted and she put it out on the dish next to Tom. A breeze blew and he caught a whiff of her perfume, a soft but strong scent of flowers.

“Thanks for the light again, um,” y/n tried to recall if he gave her his name.

“Tom,” he perked up, taking his hand out of his pocket. “Tom Holland,” he reached out to her.

Her gloved hand fit nicely into his. “I’m y/n y/l/n,” she smiled. “Okay, it’s getting chilly now. It was lovely meeting you, Tom. And welcome to the Regent Society. Things are about to get fucked,” she lifted her skirt, making her way back in.

“Don't go tripping on your dress now,” he said as she walked away, his smile wide when he saw her shake her head lightly.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/N shifts from her slouched sitting as she hears the door creak open. She saw the figure gesticulate and rake their fingers in their hair, muttering under their breath. The figure turned around and a smile crept on her face when she saw who it was.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she says.

Tom jumped, his hands flew to his chest as he turned to the direction of the voice. His shoulders dropped seeing the familiar face. She sat nicely on the reading nook by the big arched window, legs hidden by her long dress.

“God, you scared the shits out of me!”

“Sorry,” y/n giggled, covering her face with the book to hide her smile.

He shook his head, smiling. “I should ask you the same question,” he walked toward where she sat. “Shouldn’t you be waltzing?” he mocked a waltz toward her.

A scowl formed on her face. “You’re a proper dickhead,” y/n bookmarked her book. “Came to check out the library. Heard the mansion had a massive library. And I got lost in the book,” she lifted the book and turned the front cover in his direction.

The library was indeed massive. Encapsulated with dark walls and tall bookshelves, a person can feel incredibly tiny in the space. Your eyes would automatically draw to the steps that lead to the second level of the library. Mr Anderson appreciated history enough to preserve the Victorian house and the library was a remarkable pinnacle of the mansion.

“Lady Susan. Good book,” he nodded his head.

She tilted her head. “You read Jane Austen?”

“For school, darling,” the heels of his shoes thud against the floorboard. “But I did really like it,” she felt the weight of the cushion sink, shifting to make space for Tom.

“What were you having a fit about?” referring to the earlier instance of their meet.

“My aunt’s just pissing me off,” he shifted to reach into his pocket.

“Oi, you can’t smoke in here!”

“It’s not like you don’t smoke,” the joint held between his teeth, he fumfers.

“Yeah but I smoke ethically,” Tom’s eyes followed her hand as she snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and the box. He blinked fast, jaw slacked.

“Fine,” he mimicked her actions, snatching them back. “Let’s go outside then. Or did you quit again?”

“Been smoking since.”

“Brilliant,“ he claps his palms together, pointing his thumbs to the exit.

“But the book!”

“Jane Austen will always be there for you, babes. Smoke won’t,” he walked away without looking back.

Her brain froze and her face twisted to make sense of his words. “That does not make sense!” he disappeared into the hallway. “You should consider reading more,” her volume louder this time.

“Come on?” he reappeared and leaned against the door frame, looking small by the 10-foot tall door. “You can follow me and teach me more,” he gave a sardonic smile.

She pondered over the idea. Either sit here, be found and forced to participate in whatever function they've got going on or go with Tom and maybe have some fun outside the pages of a book. “Let’s go then,” she hops down from the reading nook. “But only if you agree to read something I suggest.”

“Sure,” he combed his hair back with his fingers. They both walk hastily toward the exit knowing if someone caught them, they won’t be able to break free.

Thankful she opted for her thicker dress, she shivered from the cool breeze on her face. “What do you hate most about these events?” Tom asks as he draws his head back to exhale the smoke from his mouth and look at the stars. The sun has set and the party is yet to be over.

The crickets chirp in a chorus as she thought about her answer. “So many reasons really. But I think the most is that everybody hates everybody,” she balanced her weight on the outer edge of her feet. “My mother complains about every close friend she has. I don’t know how she does it.”

Tom hummed. “So, what’s this book you wanted to recommend me?” he patted the space next to him on the bench, looking at her.

Middlemarch was one of her favourite books. She talked his ear off about it, and surprisingly he was highly enthused in the conversation. Her eyes sparkled as she described the book and Tom felt like he’d know everything about the world if he kept talking to the girl. “I’m sorry if I bore you,” she apologised, lowering her head.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve got my attention,” Tom reassured her.

As the night progressed, they’d learned more about each other. From obvious connections, Tom learned that y/n wanted to be a writer. He’d never had a chance to dream as much as she did, having his whole life being led to continue his father’s law firm since he’s the eldest.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gina, y/n’s cousin, was talking about her kids being in a new school when she caught the sight of a familiar face. She couldn’t deny that she had been looking for him all day. After spending time with him the other night, she took a liking to him, his charm and (undeniably) his good looks.

He was laughing with two men with curlier hair and as if he felt her staring, he looked in her direction and gave her a soft wave. She shot him a smile, feeling her heart sink to her stomach as she went back into the conversation. She (impatiently) held herself back from immediately running up to Tom and mingled around a little more until she finally came up to him.

“Fancy seeing your pretty face here,” he passed her a flute of champagne. Her fingers grazed his, a warmth washed over him. “No more gown?” his eyes trailed on her figure.

“I’m playing dress-up,” she teased. “I have a game this afternoon,” she addressed her tennis attire and the event.

He chuckled. “Gown or not, you look splendid, darling,” he made her cheeks heat up.

“Thank you,” she curtsied, mentally slapping herself with regret as soon as she does so.

“Oh god, where are my manners?” Tom apologised. “y/n, this is my mate Harrison and my brothers, Sam and Harry,” he introduced. She’d seen Harrison around and asked about his parents. Soon after chatting with each other, they then left to the snooker table.

“What time’s your game?” she took a few steps back and he slipped his hands behind her back to stop her from knocking over the champagne tower.

“Oops,” she laughed. “2pm,” she stuttered. “Why? You gonna watch?”

“I might,” he smirked, his hands still lingering on her back. Their faces were dangerously close, y/n gulped. “I didn’t know you could play,” she relaxed her shoulders when he moved back and let go.

“It’s the only tolerable event they have. Found it enjoyable the older I got since I’m practically hitting balls,” she sipped on her champagne. He chuckled. “What brings you here?”

He sighed, looking down at his shoes. “My brothers just got back and this is the only thing my parents would make time for,” she hummed, sliding closer to him so that their arms touched. They watch as the people in the room mingle and laugh.

“You look great too, by the way,” she broke the silence.

“Thanks, darling,” Tom nudged her arm, making her smile sheepishly. His eyes lingered on her face, smiling shyly when she turned to face him.

Tom wore his cap, it was sunny out for once in London. Harry and Sam were yapping on about their trip to Greece when y/n stepped onto the court. As she did, he shushed them making the twins share a look.

Nerves began to wash over y/n. She’s been playing since she was 9 but she never got over her nerves. The spectators weren't many, it was a Friday afternoon after all. She scanned the crowd and her eyes fell upon Tom and his brothers. Tom waved and she gave a small wave back.

y/n was leading again in the 2nd set when Elsa caught up to score a 6 in the set —the same as y/n scored the 1st set. The back of y/n’s shirt was drenched and she just wanted the game to be over and done with.

“She’s proper good, isn’t she?” Harry said to Tom. She really was, Tom thought. He kept his eye on her the whole game and she didn’t look half as tired as she’s supposed to be. It really was extraordinary for her stamina to be that good when she smokes. . Tom got up from his seat and headed to the gate where she was resting during the 10-minute break before the final set.

“Hey, champ,” he leaned on the fencing. y/n turned around when she heard the familiar voice and got up from her seat.

“Hey,” she stood on the other side of the fence.

“You’re doing really good,” he hooked his hands into the holes of the fence.

“I think I’m alright,” she laughed. “You didn’t have to come watch me,” a drop of sweat rolled down her temple and she wiped it with the towel in her hand.

“Harrison raved about how well you play. Wanted to see for myself,” she shifted from one foot to another, biting her lip.

“Well, I like to put on a show,” she joshed, erupting a chuckle from Tom. The umpire rang a bell, signalling for the game to start in a minute.

“Good luck, now,” he pumped his fist.

“Thanks,” she smiled, winking as she walked away making Tom swoon.

The whole time, Tom repeatedly bit the insides of his cheeks. He watched as y/n gracefully caught up to the ball.

She really does know how to put on a show.

She got everyone on the edge of their seats, Tom particularly felt heated up. The wink alone made him so weak he could barely walk back to his seat, but seeing her dominate the game was incredibly attractive. Her quick reflexes were immaculate. This was nothing compared to golf.

Elsa had memorised some of y/n’s moves and habits and she caught on that y/n was tired. As y/n ran to catch up to the ball, she felt her belly flip when her shoes didn’t grip the ground.

A gasp erupted from the crowd, some were cheering for Elsa. Tom nearly jumped up from his seat as he saw y/n slip. He and his brothers winced, hearing how hard the racquet slammed on the floor that the slip stung. The crowd cheered for her as she got up, her ankles buckled and failed her as she fell again.

“Shit,” y/n muttered under her breath. A medic rushed to her as she started to get up again.

“You alright?” the St John Ambulance volunteer asked. Another applaud came from the crowd when she was able to stand up properly. She nodded, earning a louder applaud and encouragement from the crowd.

The game went on and y/n was now at an advantage. If she gets this, she’ll win the whole match. Tom crossed his fingers as she exhaled through her mouth. She lifted the ball above her head and struck it with the racquet, a sound emitted from her. Her lungs were on fire and her legs were weak.

Tom never really understood tennis, but seeing a game like this was far more interesting than watching it on TV. He gave up on getting Sam to explain the rules of the game when he became more and more baffled.

Tom saw y/n twisting her body to drive a backhand, she returned the ball. Elsa struggled to chase time. His eyes followed the ball as it hit the ground and the small crowd cheered loudly.

“Did she win?” Tom asked Sam, earning a nod from his younger brother who was clapping. y/n sighed and smiled with relief, heading in the direction of the net to give Elsa a hug. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she put her hands together, mouthing 'thank you' to the crowd cheering for her.

The spectators congratulated her as she walked out of the court. “You did great, mate!” Sam shouted as she drew closer to them. She gave him a tired smile, her lungs still burning. Her hair was a mess and she could barely utter a word.

“Thank you, guys,” she struggled to say.

“Were you always this good?” Harry asked, amused.

“Oi, stop asking the poor kid questions. She’s clearly tired,” Tom scolded. She smiled, as she stopped to catch her breath. “Here, let me help you with that,” he grabbed the strap of her tennis bag.

Coming out of the shower, she saw that Tom was still waiting at the lounge for her. Her heart melted and she pressed her lips together to hide her smile. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Here you go,” he offered her a bottle of Coke and she chuckled. The bottles hissed as they opened them and they clinked their bottles together. “Cheers, mate.”

“Cheers,” she smiled, bringing the bottle to her lips.

“You were really amazing. Can’t believe you’ve not gone pro,” Tom praised her as he walked her to her car.

y/n has never had a shy bone in her body but when she’s around Tom, her legs could just give. “I try my best,” she shrugged, her palms getting clammy.

“Oh, you absolutely did, mate. You really did put on a show,” he smirked, referring to what she said before at the court. “And may I say, it was quite hot,” he admitted. Eyes wide, he immediately apologised if the comment was offensive.

She shrugged it off, laughing. “Well, you’re one to talk.”

“What?”

“Come on, Tom,” she scoffed, a look of disbelief on her face. “You look fucking hot all the time,” she gazed at the outfit he put together today. The white polo he wore hugged his biceps and chest perfectly and the black slacks he paired it with defined his ass.

“Do I, now?” a playful smirk formed on his face, his eyebrows raised as he brought his hand up to his hair, only to flex his bicep.

“Ugh, you’re such a twat,” y/n rolled her eyes, pushing him playfully as he laughed. The urge to grab her face and kiss her grew on him. With her hair still damp and body glistening under the sun, it almost felt impossible to hold himself back.

“Oh yeah, I’ve finally gotten the chance to start the book,” he mentioned as she placed her bag in her backseat.

Her expression lit up. “Really?” he nodded. “How’d you like it so far?”

“It’s really beautiful writing,” his comment made her smile. “I’m about almost done,” he slipped his hands into his pockets.

Her heart leapt with joy. “I’m excited for you to finish,” she hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Alright now, you better go get some rest,” he held the side of the car door, earning a nod. “See you around,” he smiled, closing the door. Something pulled on his heartstrings as she waved frantically as she drove past him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Just finished the book. Amazing. The text read from Tom, sent 2 hours ago.

She bit her lip as she read the message. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes after replying to his text. It was 7pm now and she’d taken a nap for 2 hours. Another ding came from her phone and she picked it up to check.

Sam took this photo of u during ur game. Thought u’d like it. The next bubble popped up and it was a picture of her in the trophy pose.

i love it. tell Sam thanks. She sent the text, three dots appeared and her phone buzzed.

How’d u have that much stamina when you smoke?

i really don’t have that much. my lungs were on fire

Do you regret smoking then?

nope

Why not?

wouldn’t have met you :)

Tom’s heart fluttered at the text, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “You alright, mate?” Sam asked, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” Tom nodded, looking back at his phone to type a reply.

“You texting y/n?” Tom smiled, ignoring his question, too engrossed in his conversation with y/n.

“What’s that face for? We’re just mates,” he said when he finally looked up from his phone.

“Mates don’t look at each other like you lot do,” Sam said, making Tom flip him off.

“She said thanks for the photo,” Tom said.

Sam hummed, going around the sofa to look at Tom’s phone. “Tell her I said no problem,” he said as Tom typed his message. “And tell her I think Tom should get his head out of his arse and tell her how he feels,” he teased.

Tom grabbed the pillow next to him and flipped it behind his head to hit Sam in the face. “We’ve only known each other 3 months. Piss off.”

After half an hour of texting, they switched to FaceTime so y/n could cook while they chatted. They had their dinner together and talked until the wee hours of the morning.

y/n was comfy and all snuggled up in bed and Tom the same. “I've got a proposition to make,” he announced and y/n hummed. “Since I’ve read your book and watched you play tennis, you should definitely join me for a game of golf.”

She groaned, burying her face into her pillow. Tom had his mouth open, clearly offended at her reaction. “What’s wrong with golf?”

“It’s incredibly boring?”

“Have you played before?”

“...No.”

“Then how is it boring?”

She bit her lip, rolling her eyes. Tom was really nice to attend her match and read her favourite book. “Okay, I’ll do it,” her tone as if in defeat.

“You won’t regret it, love,” Tom was excited.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

y/n watched as Tom practised his drives at the driving range. She squinted her eyes and studied his movements closely with her head tilted and eyebrows tightly knit. If she were to be honest though, she was admiring Tom (especially since he looked so good).

Arm muscles significantly defined, his left wrist was adorned with a silver Rolex, one she’s never noticed he’s worn until now. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he could not look hotter.

“Want me to teach you?” Tom’s voice snapped her out of her trance.

“Yes, please,” she grinned, walking hesitantly toward Tom who held out his club for her to grab it.

“Okay, so it might be a little difficult since you play tennis. But you’ll definitely get a hang of it.”

She adjusted her stance. “We’re gonna learn swinging first alright? So your stance isn’t all that important now, just try give it a swing?”

Remembering how Tom did it, she stuck her tongue out and drove the club back and swung it. There was a pause between the two of them, she frowned.

She tipped her head to the side. “I don’t think that’s how I’m supposed to do it,” she said.

“Yeah, no,” he snickered. “But that’s okay,” reassuring her. He further explained the motion and she repeatedly bobbed her head.

“Okay... I think maybe…? I’m ready to try again,” she adjusted her hands on the grip.

“That’s it! You got it!” he exclaimed, walking towards her to give her a high five. “Now just try a few more and then we’ll move on to your stance, yeah?” he stood behind, observing her with his arms crossed.

She began to improve with every swing with Tom giving her a few pointers as she did. Observing her, Tom found her incredibly adorable with her tongue sticking out in concentration. After getting better at her drive, Tom proceeded to coach her on her stance.

“Yeah, you’ve got your footing right, so now just soften your knees a little?”

“Like this?” she habitually bent down into her tennis stance. His eyes crinkled as he laughed, holding his belly. She stood up straight with her wrists on her hips.

“Are you taking a fucking piss?” she scolded him trying not to give in to laughter. Apologising immediately after, trying hard to contain his laughter.

“No, no. Like this,” he showed with an imaginary club. She observed and tried to mimic him, bending a little too much again. “Okay, um. Is it alright if I touch you?”

“Yea-Yeah sure.”

He stood behind her, feeling her jump slightly when he held her waist. “Okay, so just place the back of your knee on my knee,” he leaned in closer to her back.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she felt the vibration of his chest against her back. “The key is to kind of relax your body a bit. Just whatever makes you feel comfortable. We’re different so it might not,” he cleared his throat as she backed her bum against his crotch. “It might not, uh, feel right for you.”

“Feel comfortable?” he whispered, feeling his breath on her ear. His skin felt soft against hers as he brushed his hands on her arm to reach for the club.

“Yeah,” her voice, barely above a whisper when he placed his hands on hers.

“Ready to swing?”

“Mhm,” she gulped, feeling his skin touch hers.

“Alright,” they both drove the club back and swung softly. “Nice one,” Tom muttered as they watched the ball hit the ground.

“Now, you try it again,” he said, the warmth of his body leaving hers and she felt the breeze blow on the back of her legs again.

For the next couple of months, they were constantly seen together. Whether it was at the occasional society events, or at the golf club, or library. When the air got colder though, they met less often since y/n was done with her summer leave at a local publishing company.

One evening, Tom had invited y/n to have dinner at his place with other friends. Sam wanted to experiment with different cuisine and needed as many unbiased tasters. After dinner, they proceeded to play drinking games. Apparently, y/n had been so bad at playing that she’d become drunk by the third game.

“Alright, mate. You need to help me out a little getting out of the car,” Tom grunted trying to move y/n who was slumped over in the passenger seat. He’d offered to drive her back home since she was absolutely hammered.

“I hate it when you call me ‘mate’,” y/n slurred her words.

“What should I call you then?” he sighed and stopped trying to pry her out of the car.

She placed her pointer finger on her lip, in thought. “Well, haven’t thought about it,” she giggled.

“Mhm,” Tom shook his head, smiling to himself.

y/n then decided to get out of the car by herself. Sighing, he closed the door and rushed to catch her before she fell onto the floor.

“Fuck, Tom! Someone stole my car,” she exclaimed when they walked up to the car porch, her voice echoed around the compound.

“You drove to my place, remember?” Tom laughed, hushing her.

They stumbled up the front door after what felt like an eternity, Tom was panting from chasing her around. “You’re fuckin’ mad when you’re drunk,” Tom muttered to himself.

He gave her a bottle of water to drink as they sat at the front door, her head placed on his shoulders. Tom felt the light drizzle from the sky falling onto his skin. "Okay, can you get in yourself?”

She nodded, finally being able to stand up on her feet —with Tom’s help, of course. She wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck to give him a hug. His hands found themselves on her lower back. She let go and kissed his cheek, lingering a little too long.

Their eyes closed, still leaned in. He felt as drunk as she was, finding himself breathless. He could smell the mixture of booze on her breath. Their lips drew closer and closer.

y/n turned her face away, Tom cleared his throat. “Oh, I’m not feeling great,” she mumbled. Tom turned to face her, she was crouched, hugging her belly. “I think I’m gonna vom,” she covered her mouth.

“Okay, hand me your keys, yeah,” he took the keys from her hand. "Please, mate, if you vom on me we'll have a puke contest," he begged. She rushed in, stumbling quickly to get to the nearest toilet.

Tom followed her, thanking all the gods she didn’t vomit before she got to the toilet. He held her hair back as she barfed all the alcohol out of her system, trying so hard not to gag at the sound. After getting her to brush her teeth and clean up, he brought her to her room.

“Thanks, Tom. You’re great,” she smiled as he tucked her in. He placed a bottle of water and painkiller on the nightstand before he headed back home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tom spotted her, sitting alone at a table with her head resting on her palm. She looked miserable, a minute frown on her face. “Hello, there. Care for a pint?” He waved the drink in front of her, making her groan.

“Fuck off,” she pushed the drink away.

“D’you wake up okay?” he sat down.

“No, spent the whole day in bed. Why did you let me drink that much?” she moaned, pressing her fingers into her temple.

“You snatched them all right off my hand!”

She covered her face, chagrined as she recalled the memory. “Did I vomit on you?”

“Not a drop, darling,” he smiled, resting his arm on the back of her chair.

Taking a sip of her water, she nodded. “I hope I was hot though,” she sneered, making him chuckle.

Her head rested on his shoulder as they witnessed the wedding reception. They watched and made fun of people as they made a fool of themselves on the dance floor. It had seemed like the perfect opportunity for Tom to declare how he felt about her but the thought of it made him entirely sick. And other than the incident last night, how she felt for him was utterly vague.

He stood up from his seat and put out his hand in front of her. “May I have this dance?”

y/n snorted, looking up at him. She sighed and he still stood there with his hands in front of her. “Oh. You’re not kidding are you?” her face deadpanned.

“No,” he shook his head.

“Okay...” she took his hand and he led her to the dancefloor.

He placed his hands on her waist and she placed hers nicely on the back of his neck. They swayed to the rhythm of the song, a common slow dance song played at weddings that is much too old for her to know the name of. She looked at him, he raised his eyebrows making her grin and scoff.

“This is nice,” she whispered.

“Come on now, move closer.”

“Like this?” she stepped closer, her head now right next to his. His heart skipped a beat.

As they continued to sway, her head rested on his shoulders and Tom caught a whiff of her shampoo. Taking her hand from his shoulder, he moved her hands under his arm. As he did this, she lifted her head up. He peered over to look at her, their faces a couple millimeters away. Shifting his gaze from her eyes to her lips, his breaths shorten.

“y/n,” his voice was hushed.

“Yeah?” their eyes locked. He struggled to utter a word, his eyes fixated on her lips.

“Just kiss me already,” she sighed. Tom hesitated, bug-eyed and breath hitched. Fuck it, he thought.

Her eyes fluttered close when she felt his lips on hers. Her lips were as delicate as he’d imagined. Even though she swore off booze for the night, he caught a taste of wine on her lips. Though they didn’t want to, they broke the kiss when the song ended. They leaned on each other’s foreheads as they smiled, giggling struggling to flutter their eyes open.

“Uh, y/n,” a voice came from behind her.

Eli. He’d mentioned something about their mother needing to go home early.

She let go, Tom cleared his throat, trying his best to wipe the grin off his face. “Eli,” she said in between her teeth. “This is Tom Holland,” she introduced. “Tom, this is my brother, Eli,” they shook hands and Eli gave her a cheeky grin. He then hurriedly left after he lingered with Tom a minute too long seeing that she’d been glaring at him.

“Okay,” she took Tom’s hand in hers and rocked it back and forth. “I’ve got to go,” he bites his lip, nodding his head.

“No, yeah. I’ll see you,” he kissed her cheek.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Driving up to Brighton, Tom was sick to his stomach. He bounced in his seat and he could feel the damp heat from his hands as he wiped them on his shorts. Saying all but a few words, he stared blankly out the window. Sam took the wheel, knowing full well he’d be too jittery to drive. After all, y/n was leaving tomorrow.

Red and lilac, the water mirrored the sky. The waves crashing on the rocky shore now louder than the music from the beach house. Tom snuck away from the barbeque where the guests gathered.

“Oi, what are you doing out here?” a familiar voice tugged at his heart. He bites his lip, hiding his smile.

“Having a smoke to celebrate you finally leaving,” he joked, passing her his cigarette. She hummed.

They walked away from the beach house sharing a single cigarette. As the waves grew louder and the bustling noise got softer, the more world spun. He’d had a few too many drinks to conquer the nerves. Feeling the rocks crunch under their feet, they stumbled to god-knows-where. Somehow their fingers intertwined as they walked, it all felt right. Until a pain pangs in his stomach knowing she’d be leaving in a few hours.

“You alright?”

Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good,” he smiled, caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

She chuckled. His grip on her hand was tight and only grew tighter. “You sure?” she stopped, pulling him back to her.

Looking down at his feet, he searched up words in his dizzying brain. He jittered in his stance and stopped when he felt her hands on his cheeks —as soft as he’d known her to be.

“What’s up?” she tried to get him to look her in the eyes. He sighed, chuckling.

“y/n, I,” he choked. She inched closer, her infamous frown on her face again. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered, chickening out.

Her frown disappears. “I’m gonna miss you too,” she fluttered her eyes close and leaned in, attaching her lips to his. It felt different than the one they had a week ago —more longing, more passion. Her hands fell on his shoulders and moved them slowly to his chest. Tom wrapped his arms around her lower back and brought her body flush against his.

They reluctantly let go when they heard the party cheer behind them. Turning back to peer back at the party: they were cheering at something else. Touching foreheads, they chuckled and Tom lifted his hands to rest them on her face.

The dim light in the sky highlighted the high points of her face. “You’re so beautiful,” he grazed his thumbs on her cheeks, adoring her features.

“Tom?” she whispered, he turned his gaze to her eyes.

“Yeah, love?” her legs weakened at the new name.

“I really really like you,” she bit her lip. Tom’s eyes grew wide, his hands fell to her shoulders. He sighed, clutching his hands in his chest making her giggle. He pouts as he feels his eyes start to well up. “Are you crying?”

Shielding his face with his hands, she cackled loudly, falling on the sand. “I was trying so hard to say it first. I was so nervous!” he shouted as she laughed even louder, rolling on the floor.

“I can’t believe I made you cry,” she wiped the tears from her eyes, sighing and then starting to laugh again.

“Oh, I’m never going to live this down, am I?” she shook her head, still laughing.

Her laughter died down, and soon they were kissing again. He held her waist, slipping his hands under her shirt and she does the same. The rings on his fingers sent shivers up her spine. Tom parted from the kiss, and his lips felt swollen. Their chests rose and faltered in unison, their foreheads still touching.

He cleared his throat. “We should head back. Those people are here for you,” he grazed his fingers on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I forgot about the party for a second,” she giggled.

When they got back, y/n entertained her guests and said her farewells. Tom lingered close, chatting with her friends. Stolen glances exchanged the whole night, both having something else on their minds. Fortunately, the night ended faster than expected and her guests had left, including their brothers.

Closing the front door, she turned around to see him right behind her. “Fancy seeing you here,” she moved closer, taking his hands. His gaze was alluring as he smiled. He grabbed her face and kissed her, earning a moan from her.

He pressed her against the door, feeling his clothed hard-on against her thighs. In a drunken haze, she stopped the kiss and led him upstairs. Their lips connected at the top of the stairs, not parting as they stumbled into the nearest bedroom. Her hands slipped down to his chest, unbuttoning his button-down. When she got rid of the clothing, she let go of the kiss and dragged her fingers down his skin, admiring his abs.

“Darling. Shit,” his voice strained. “That tickles,” he laughed. She giggled, reaching for the hem of her shirt to take it off.

No bra. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Tom drooled. He grabbed her face again, expecting him to attack her lips but he dove his head to reach for her neck. She whined, making him smile against her neck. He took her breasts in his hands and played with her hard nipples. Her legs gave out when he found the sweet spot on her neck.

They moved closer to the bed, y/n fell back on the bed. Tom kisses her neck and leaves trails of kisses down her chest.

“Fuck, Tommy,” she moans, her back arched when his lips attached to her nipples. The nickname incited a groan from him. He licked her nipples, causing a string of beautiful moans to come from her throat.

She hummed when she felt the absence of heat from her body, he untied the drawstrings of her pants and pulled them off. Continuing from where he left off, he took his time down —worshipping her body. He kissed her clothed hips. She looked down, making eye contact with him as she watched him take her panties off with his teeth. Her head fell back on the bed, biting her lip.

“So beautiful,” he cooed, she felt cold air blow against her wet slick. He adorned her skin with kisses, everywhere but where she wanted it most. He then reaches his hand up and plays with her nipples.

He kisses the insides of her thighs and then closer to her wet pussy. He inched closer when he changed his mind and trailed up to her hips. Grinding the air, she moaned, pushing his head closer to her body.

“D’you like it when I tease you?”

She nodded, her eyes shut, tightly pursing her lips. Finally, he licks a long stripe up her entrance, making her grip his curls tightly. He does it agonisingly slowly a few more times until he reaches for her clit.

She reaches for his hands, intertwines her fingers with his and squeezes them tightly as he kitten licks her clit. He let go of her hands and inserted a finger into her, earning a loud moan from her. He adds another finger, sucking on her clit as he does so. All the stimulation makes her arch her back.

In the daze, she closed her eyes, alternating between grabbing his hair and the bedsheets. “Right there, baby. Fuck,” she whimpered when he bends his digits, stimulating her g-spot. A familiar knot forms in her stomach as he repeats the motion. She saw colours as she reached her climax, grabbing his hair tight making Tom moan into her.

“That was fucking hot,” he wiped her wetness from his mouth. She laughs, panting as she comes down from her high. He wastes no time, kissing his way up her body to her lips. Their tongues intertwine, she tastes herself and her arousal grows again.

She holds his shoulders, pushing to switch positions and grinds her hips on his crotch. He groaned into the kiss, his hand flew to her waist. She kissed down his body, taking off the remaining clothing still on him. His dick sprung up as she did, making him wince from the cold air. She kissed the tip of his shaft, making him grab his hair.

“Oh, this is better than I’ve imagined,” he moans.

“Yeah? You’ve thought about this?” she asks, her words vibrating on his shaft.

He nodded, grunting as she licked the tip. “Tried not to cause it’s kind of creepy but- fuuuck,” he cursed, tipping his head back when she sucked on his tip. “But you’re just so fucking hot.”

She flattened her tongue on his cock from the base to the tip as she looked up at him through her lashes. His mouth wide open and eyebrows crossed, he mouthed ‘fuck’ under his breath. He gently wipes her damp hair away from her face. Opening her mouth to take his dick in, he stops her.

“Darling, I’m gonna cum on your face if we continue like this,” he sat up.

“And?” she raised her brow, making him chuckle, shaking his head.

“As much as I want that, I want to cum with you,” she gets up from her knees to kiss him.

They got up to the top of the bed. He lined his dick at her entrance. “Ready?” he looked into her eyes. She nods, smiling up at him. He kissed her forehead. He drove his tip in, and their breaths hitched. “Keep your eyes open for me, darling,” he says when her eyes nearly closes shut. She sighs his name. Mouth agape, looking at him under hooded eyes.

“Feel so fucking good,” he moves his whole length in her at a nice pace, groaning. He buried his head into her neck. His breath feels hot on her neck and she lifts her legs and wraps it around his bum.

His tip hits a new spot in the position, making her clench her pussy. “Fuck, that’s it,” she whines, making him bite into her shoulders. She gripped his hair in her hands, “Tommy, I wanna hear you moan.”

He lifts his head, facing her. They looked into each other’s eyes as Tom thrusts into her —deeper and harder. She raked his back with her fingers, forming red lines. Their moans and pants echoed the walls.

“You’re fuck- so fucking tight, love. You close?” she nods, unable to utter a word. “Cum with me when I say so, okay?” she moans, closing her eyes, humming.

Her eyes follow his hands reaching in between their bodies. She rolls her eyes to the back of her head, squealing when he massages her clit.

He chuckled. “Always wanted to see your eyes roll back with my cock in you.” She groaned, her pussy clenched even tighter now. “Keep your eyes open for me when we cum.”

“Only if you cum in me,” she mutters in between moans, making him grunt and nod.

Tom thrusts his cock in her a few more times, they were getting sloppier. “Fuck I’m close,” he mewled. “Cum for me, love.”

She lets go, clenching even more than he deemed possible. They both moaned and cursed, his warm cum painted her walls. They come down from their climax, panting beside each other.

y/n sighed, laughing as her breathing regulated. “Holy fuck,” she chuckles, both of them stare at the ceiling. Tom turned on his side to face her — still euphoric, he traces his fingers on her bare shoulders, a soft smile on his face. Peering over to face him, she smiles.

He pecks her shoulders and hovers over her to cover her with kisses. She sighs, nestling her palms in his curls. After returning from taking a piss, they cuddled with each other and let slumber take over them.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

String lights hung on top of her, mimicking barely visible stars above them. She grabbed a smoke in the garden maze. “Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice. He snuck out on her the next day.

The whole world seized, her body froze and her breath got caught in her lungs. She begged for the world to eat her at her feet so she wouldn’t have to face the man. She turns around, the cigarette dissipating, holding it in her fingers.

“Hi,” she braved her broken heart.

“y/n,” his voice pleading but stern.

“Tom,” she mimics his tone.

“I was a coward. I’m so sorry,” he says, bug-eyed.

“About what?” she maintained a calm facade. He opens his mouth to talk but a high pitched squeal disrupts him.

“Mummy! Mummy!” a girl runs towards y/n, headbutting her thighs and her body moves with the momentum of the impact.

“Hi, love,” she rubs her back, putting out her cigarette. With guilt stirring her stomach, she gave Tom a weak smile.

Tom froze, gloom took over his body. The girl had most of y/n’s features but he could see that she had a nose he'd seen so often in baby pictures of him and his brothers. The Holland nose.

“Mummy who's that?” the girl tugs at her mother’s dress. She whispered back an incoherent reply, too soft for Tom's ringing ears to catch.

“Darling, why don’t you go play with Uncle Eli, yeah?” she whispers to her, seeing Eli at the corner beckoning for the young girl.

y/n cleared her throat, wiping her sweaty palms on her clothed thighs. “How old is she?” Tom asks, his gaze not faltering from the floor.

She gulped. “Three.”

“And...” his eyes wide, unblinking, now fixated on her face.

She nods.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

please say hi if you want to be mutuals!! and i would really appreciate a reblog if you enjoyed it.

taglist: @alexa-myr @wildxwidow @emistrash @marishaslove @user1683 (please resend your form again i think there was something wrong!)

#tom holland x fem #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fandom #richkid!tom

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