tom accidentally send you mixed signals during an interview
Rumours - @celestialbarnes
tom and actress!reader are secretly dating and play the game, ‘spill your guts or fill your guts’
The ‘Friendship’ Test - @spideyobsessed
you and tom take glamour’s friendship test
3 Hearts Broken - @wizkiddx
an argument between you and tom, except it takes him hurting someone else for you to loose it
A Job Offer - @wizkiddx
after your ex, tom holland, helped you out after a panic attack at an event - the fall out is a lot more than just one embarrassing night
Secret Lover - @hollandsour
y/n and tom, who have been secretly dating for a while, both come on to the graham norton show - causing social media to blow up about it
“That Was Painfully Sexist” - @cherrycheridarling
at a panel for the new avengers film, the questions differ drastically between the female and male actors on stage
Lockscreen - @cherrycheridarling
tom goes on jimmy fallon for a game of 'show me your phone' - being the oblivious child he is, tom forgets about his lockscreen
Coffee & Muffins - @schaferthecreator
you and tom go out to get breakfast and run into some paparazzi
Breaking The Internet - @parkers-gal
tom and reader are expecting a baby, and finally make it public
Fluffy Hair - @parkers-gal
tom joins the reader in her interview
Lingerie - @duskholland
your co star offers to photograph you in your new lingerie, and it only escalates from there
Something To Remember - @tinyyoungblood
you and tom are in portland for one mission only and that is to be seen together - so how did you end up getting parent tattoos?
Outshining Tom - @tinyyoungblood
you and your co-stars from far from home are stuck in a seven-hour flight and tom keeps missing the hole until you show him how to do it
Spotlight - @mywldflwers
you've joined the mcu family and you attend its premiere with tom by your side
Sweet Nothings - @parkersdoll
tom is always there to soothe your nerves
Party Of The Year - @whereistradel
reader is a famous actress who is best friends with tom - they plan to throw a birthday party but tom can’t make it due to his press tour
Scars - @grimesslut
famous!reader has a history of self harm but no one knows - until photos go around of her scars
Defying Gravity - @cali-holland
your broadway debut as elphaba in wicked makes you come to terms with your feelings for your best friends brother
Familiar - @angelic-holland
you’re a famous youtuber and are invited to interview the far from home cast - but nobody knows you’re already dating one of them
Dirty Shirley - @angelic-holland
you’re an actress in endgame and have a little too much to drink for your 21st birthday
Trust Issues - @stuckonspidey
where the avengers cast are on the jimmy fallon show and tom accidentally blurts out that he and the reader are dating
Shy Smiles - @tomhollandd
instead of tom sweeping you off your feet like he planned, you’re the one sweeping him off his
Press Week - @parkersbliss
just three times you and tom were too adorable during press week
Interview Interests - @redrebecca
when you go on your favourite chat show to promote your new movie, a lot can happen, especially when you’re sharing a couch with tom holland
Scheduling Issues - @redrebecca
you arrive on set 2 hours early, tom passes the time with an instagram live
The Press Tour - @dahliaspidey
you’re a new, inexperienced actress plucked from the obscurity of everyday life to play the lead in the reboot of a famous british ane austen novel, and tom holland just so happens to be playing your love interest
Sex Scene: Interview - @xoluvx
you and tom starred in a movie - there’s a sex scene, now you have to talk about it on national tv
With You - @whatevsholland
in an attempt to better you and your career, tom breaks off your relationship, making it the talk of the media
Wannabe - @sailingintothenight
and what if after years of chasing each other like a cat and mouse, you and tom started to wonder if you wanna be something else in each other’s life?
Pour It Out - @rhapsodyparker
a cheeky game of ‘pour it out’ with jimmy fallon makes you spill some beans
Driver's Licence - @petersasteria
based on ‘drivers license’ by olivia rodrigo
10 Fingers, 10 Toes - @itsallyscorner
social media au - you and tom finally reveal that your little poppet has finally arrived
In Harmony - @evermoreholland
after a nasty break up, you go to london with your two best friends in hope to find inspiration for your upcoming album and a london boy soon became your muse
Sensation - @ptersmj
it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate
This Way - @tomspancakes
you and tom are exes, but you need a place to stay at while you film in ondon and harry is your best friend. things get more complicated when a pandemic starts
Kiss, Marry, Kill - @typicalholland
an interview with tom and his fellow cast members in a game of kiss,marry,kill, his favourite actress seems to reach back to him
Lovely - @honeyspidey
after a long day on set, tom says the wrong name during a scene
Grenade - @tommydarlings
tom and y/n live happily together and they are the most gorgeous couple in hollywood, right?
Silent Britain - @marvelhero-fics
you’re pretty new to hollywood, finally getting a role in a blockbuster martin scorsese film - o your surprise, tom holland is playing your love interest - eventually, you and tom become love interests outside the film
Miss Me? - @starryspidey
tom’s visiting you for the first time in a while, but now he is worried that you didn’t miss him
Take Me Backstage - @madmadmilk
you’re a singer and you happen to be on the same talk show - you’re both sat on the couch and the host embarrasses you by exposing a crush on the other
Live From New York, It's Saturday Night - @mcwriting
in which the reader is the musical guest at saturday night live the same week tom holland is hosting
Famous - @missnxthingg
tom drops everything just to go meet his dream girl, brand new celebrity, once she announces a tour date in atlanta, where he’s shooting civil war
Weak Spot - @spideyyeet
tom finds it amusing how you still cry over infinity war
warning/notes: female pronouns, super slight angst, fluff, mention of death (light heartedly)
summary: Y/N cares for her boyfriend, yet he can’t pay attention to anything but her his clothing.
request/prompt: fluff prompts 3. “are you wearing my shirt?”, 7. “you’re hot when you’re angry.” & 37. “okay, where are all my jumpers?”
word count: 855
It was a disaster.
A complete and utter disaster.
“Oh my god” you mutter to yourself, sight hidden by the cups of your hands.
The flashes of light of the television corrupt the calm atmosphere of your Queens apartment. You originally planned to have a relaxed night, time to yourself, a much needed break. That was the plan. But instead, here you sat, in front of your old box set TV watching your boyfriend swing from buildings on national television.
You sigh as you brush your hair off your face, looking up towards the empty ceiling. Why couldn’t Peter just have a nice night, settling down with his girlfriend? Oh, that’s right. Because he’s Peter Parker.
As thoughts overwhelm your racing mind, you quickly grab the TV remote and hover your thumb over the ‘off’ button. What if you missed something important? You shake your head, ceasing the thoughts and turn the television off. He’d be home any second now, he always was.
The tiny roman numeral wall clock read, 10:05pm. You paced the small New York City apartment, nail biting as you ponder your thoughts.
Is he okay?
Should I turn the TV back on, just in case...
Maybe he’s injured
He could be dea-
You fly towards the kitchen window, greeted with the frame of him. Peter.
He spreads his arms out, ready to have you engulf him into a warm, tight and long-awaited embrace. Instead, you begin to march over, ready to strike at any moment. How dare he do this to you?
“Peter Parker” you scowl, staring into his innocent and cowering eyes. His body language had completely flipped. Peter immediately dropped his welcoming arms by his side, and prepared himself for the complete shit-show that was about to unleash, all thanks to you.
Face to face with your boyfriend, you take a deep inhale, before questioning, “Where have you been, Peter?”
He lowers his head, looking around as if to find someone to defend him. “I-I was just, you know, fighting crime. Neighbour Spider-Man...and all”
“Ugh!”, you throw your head back in frustration. “Peter, I...I just,”
Peter looks you up and down, his eyes landing on your, his shirt.
“What!” you yell, pleading with your hands and furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Peter shakes his head and quickly gathers himself,
“No, no it’s nothing. Nothing” he confirms attempting not to smirk to himself.
“What? Tell me!” you pester further, stomping your feet as though you were a child throwing a tantrum.
“It’s really nothing. Really” Peter lightly chuckles, folding his arms as he leans against the window frame.
If looks could kill Peter would be 6 feet under by now. You arch your eyebrow in a way that communicated, ‘well, go on’.
“It’s just...are you wearing my shirt?” He gestures towards the shirt reading, ‘I survived my trip to NYC’
You pause, dumbfounded almost as you look down to confirm his accusation.
“You know what, maybe I am!” you divert, placing your hands on your hips in order to appear more confident. “So what! I’m not the crazy Spider-Man swinging from sky-rises in my free time, that should be spent with my girlfriend!”
He sighs, throwing his head back before gathering his words.
“I’m sorry! I really am”, Peter begins to make his way towards you, displaying his puppy eyes as he sulks. “I’m sorry” he repeats, holding your hands gently.
“Can you just, please never do that again?”, you plead. “I get so worried about you, Peter. I miss you, just please don’t do that”.
Peter brings his hands up to his lips, pecking them lovingly.
“I promise” he smiles, the way he does. “And besides, you’re hot when your angry. Just makes me love you more than I already do”.
You bite your lip slightly, pulling him into a very much needed embrace.
“In all honesty, i’m completely exhausted” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, pulling you closer to his body.
“Well sure you are, being a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man would tend to get exhausting every so often” you tease.
Peter places a delicate peck onto your soft lips, before leading your hand towards your shared bedroom.
The warm sheets of the bed engulf your figure as you wait for Peter to finish brushing his teeth, as well as fighting the constant urge to fall asleep.
Nights were growing colder in Queens, New York. The constant heating system flowing throughout your apartment didn’t aid you in staying awake at night either.
You hear the faucet of the kitchen sink turn off, signalling that your boyfriend is finally joining you in bed.
“I’m surprised you’re still awake” he teases as he opens his side of the joint closet.
You yawn in response, “don’t get your hopes up”. You begin fluttering your eyes closed momentarily as the exhaustion overtakes you.
“I’m coming, i’m coming” he smiles, searching for something warmer than the thin layer of sheets to protect his body during the night.
The shuffling ceases, causing you to open your eyes in confusion due to the change of scene.
synopsis: tom hasn’t been in your life for months... until you run into him unexpectedly at a party.
pairing: uni!tom x reader
genre: uni au, angst, smut, exes to lovers, could be frat!tom if you wish
warnings: explicit content, smut, alcohol, drugs, slight dom!tom, protected sex, oral sex (f receiving), lots of angst lol
word count: 4.5k
a/n: bro this hurt to write. did i come up w this story by daydreaming abt my own ex? of course not. who told you that? also this isn’t necessarily inspired by something holy by alice phoebe lou but it shares the same title... give it a listen <3
The more you tried to forget, the more the memory of him swelled in your heart, though it also had the same effect as your lungs suffocating from cyanide. No, maybe that was too harsh. It’s not like Tom ruined your life. Quite frankly, every time a friend of yours had asked about him in the past year, you never had much to say other than that your attachment styles maybe clashed. He was busy all the time anyway. Of course he was moving on well, never stealing a glance at you during lecture hall whereas you felt like you were performing for him, just in case he was gazing at you. Just in case he was watching you and missed what he saw. It didn’t matter. He stopped sitting with you which was a given, though you thought that it would’ve been okay considered he “still wanted to be friends.” Does anyone ever follow through with that? You hate yourself for how much you crave even just Tom’s acquaintanceship. It makes you feel pathetic.
You haven’t seen him in weeks, you realize, since the new semester had started. What a blessing. Now, you were roaming sweaty bodies in a house far too big for it to remain unscathed by the morning. Alice was nowhere to be found — your roommate was probably eating Harrison’s face off. Luckily they had been seeing each other only casually, seeing him on the weekends eating cereal in your kitchen after their hookups with simple greetings in between. You have to physically fight the urge to ask about Tom every time.
“Incoming!” barks a sophomore towards you. Your head turns like whiplash before a ping pong wall flies right into your face, causing an eruption of laughter from the crew at the beer pong table. You wince and look back at them, grimacing.
“Cheer up, pretty girl! Wanna be on my team?” another boy yells.
“No thanks,” you yell back, your smile dripping with venom as you flip them off.
You wonder how it’s possible to feel so out of it, dopey from the joint you had just smoked mixed with the wine in your hands, while also feeling like your heart is about to beat out of your chest. It’s like your body is taking a screenshot — the downers mixing with the uppers. The uppers being, well, your physical anxiety manifesting in the prison of this house party. You retreat upstairs to wander around the large house — you realize you don’t even know who lives there. Friend of Harrison’s or something. You stumble past bare rooms with dirty laundry on the floors, couples making out and shutting the door abruptly behind them as you walk by. You make your way into the bathroom to check your reflection and maybe splash some cold water on the back of your neck. You don’t necessarily recognize the face in front of you. It’s like seeing a ghost, you think. Sighing, you take a gulp of your wine, raising an eyebrow at an opened, half-full bottle of rosé that someone had left on the windowsill next to the toilet. Shrugging, you take it, tucking it under your arm as you leave.
It’s right then when you notice a drawing in one of the rooms. It’s messy and abstract, with red lines swooping together to make out flowers and butterflies. It’s your drawing. Looking around the room, there isn’t much evidence to what the owner of the bedroom could be like. You don’t recognize the bedsheets and the room is eerily clean, save a couple of stray socks scattered next to the bed. All there is on the walls are your drawing and a Bob Dylan poster. You frown, too lost in your wandering brain to remember when you made that drawing, so you look out the window instead to watch everyone else at the party make fools of themselves. The party below is full of life and everyone looks like little ants.
“Uh, hey stalker,” a voice murmurs from behind you. The room is dark except for the weak string lights. The warm light of the hallway backlist the figure in front of you as you squint, then widening your eyes. Just my fucking luck.
“Tom?” you call out. Your anxiety spikes just a bit, though your eyes soften as your gaze splays out onto the moonlight chiseling the freckled boy’s features. He looks tougher, somehow. Maybe it’s the thin black t-shirt that shows off his arms or how his curls have grown about a bit to make him look both more boyish and more… refined. You can’t tell if his jaw has gotten sharper or if he’s simply clenching it at the sight of you. Your stomach sinks.
“Like my interior decorating skills? Or are you trying to find the body in here?” he raises an eyebrow.
You chuckle sheepishly. “Ha ha, very funny. As if you have the balls to kill someone and hide it.”
“That’s the thing, babe, you’re next.” His lips are in a thin white line as he stares at you. A beat passes before his mouth turns up into a smile. You remember to breathe suddenly, exhaling a laugh. You missed this… the weird banter. You two had a good repertoire of always knowing how to retaliate in your shared arguments and bits. It was never a dull moment between the two of you. Even when you’re six feet apart and practically strangers.
You rub the back of your neck. It’s hot now compared to the coolness from the bathroom water from moments ago. “Um, sorry. Didn’t know you lived here. I can leave if you want some privacy,” you mumble.
“You’re fine. Just came here to smoke. Seems like we invited way too many annoying fucking people to this party. I don’t even recognize half of these faces. ’S like a fucking riot down there.”
“Aren’t you, like, concerned your shit’s gonna get broken?”
“House was basically furnished when I moved in, so, not my problem. As long as no one pukes in my room.” Tom peers towards you as he grinds the weed. “You not gonna throw up any time soon, yeah?”
“I’m good,” you smile shyly. You can’t help but watches his hands as he prepares a joint. His fingers are long and slender, so neat-looking despite the pinkish flesh of his knuckles. You notice he’s still sporting the rings he got that one time you took him thrift shopping. There’s even the band that looks like a crown. You had picked it out for him.
“Good girl.” He nods. Something in your stomach churns. Was the rosé in your hand too sweet? Did you even remember to eat before you went to the party?
Biting your lip, your eyes flit between his fingers and the moon. You feel like you’re staring, so you look beyond his window instead. It feels like the air in the room has gotten thicker as he moves from his desk to sit across from you on the seat of his bay windows.
“You want?” he raises his eyebrows in question, holding the joint out for you. You probably shouldn’t considering you were still a bit high from before, not to mention to you were a third down from the bottle of wine in your hand and you had two cups of red right when you arrived. You had always taken your alcohol well, even when it was too much. Your mind flashes to when Tom would have to lug you home, forcing you into an Uber when things got too intense. You wonder briefly if he’d take care of you now.
You nod slightly, taking the joint in your mouth and lighting it. You inhale a bit too quickly, causing a small coughing fit. It goes to your brain immediately, making you feel lightheaded. A breathy chuckle leaves your mouth as you hand the joint back, which is now littered with a print from your dark lipstick.
“You good?” Tom laughs.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m great.”
Tom doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s been in a bad mood since around 10 pm when someone had broken two wine glasses at once, not to mention the freshman that spilled her vodka cranberry on him in an attempt to hit on him. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now, because having you in his room is a new sight, yet the way the moon creates a halo around your hair is all too familiar. It reminds him of how the moonlight shone on your cheeks while you were asleep, and he would play with your hair and count strands the way a child would count sheep. His heart flutters when he watches you take another hit. He shoves these feelings deeper into his body and thinks he just must be really, really, really high.
“I haven’t— I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” you ask, coughing lightly.
“Um, fine. I guess. My workload is bigger now so I have less free time. Shit’s pretty boring around here, I guess. How’s your, um, art and stuff?”
“Great! I have a studio now,” you grin. Your eyes wander towards the wall where your drawing is pinned. “You still kept that.”
Tom turns around to see where you’re looking. Maybe it’s too dark to tell, but a blush creeps over his face. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I just had it and my walls were fucking bare, so. I still really like it.” You are beaming on the inside, but you can’t show that. You hesitate from showing any kind of emotional vulnerability ever since he ended things with you. It wasn’t like Tom said it out loud, but he was just so tired. Tired of you, tired of expecting to answer every question. Apparently, it was too much work for him to communicate his feelings, which left you in the dark at every turn. The space between you continued to grow like a swelled up balloon.
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted or called.”
Maybe you’re too crossfaded to remember social cues at this point, because at that statement, you scoff.
“It’s no problem. Just wished you kind of, acknowledged my existence every once in a while,” you replied.
Tom’s brows furrow. “Really? Whenever I’m around you it’s like I have the plague or something.”
“What effort have you made in the past eight months to get close to me, Tom? Serious question,” you roll your eyes and take the joint straight from his lips and put it to your own, causing Tom to smirk at the action. You hike up your legs and put your knees to your chest. “No, actually, I could ask that for the entire last half of our relationship.”
“I don’t want to fight with you right now,” Tom sighs. He doesn’t want to tell you that he doesn’t know how to act when you’re around him. Of course, that’s obvious in his own behavior, but you always take it as an awkward post-breakup lovers-to-strangers thing. What you don’t know is that he does steal glances at you, hovers over your contact name when he’s drunk on the weekends, writes your name down a hundred times to reconcile what he feels about you until the feelings are gone for good. Those damn complicated feelings. If you knew even remotely what he was thinking you probably would’ve done witchcraft about it by now. But in the past year, you decided to suffer in silence and leave him alone.
“We’re not fighting, we’re talking. We’re having a very adult conversation now, Thomas,” you slur, punching him lightly in the shoulder. Oh, now you’re definitely too high to care, because at this point your eyes are wide looking at him and putting a hand behind his ear to stroke his soft brown hair. It feels like an automatic gesture. It feels as easy as blinking. You feel his warm pulse beneath your cold fingertips, then you swallow and pull your hand away like it’s been burnt once you realize what you just did, and now his mouth is slightly ajar.
“I’m really sorry, y/n,” Tom whispers. The way he says your name almost feels like a prayer.
You can’t recollect exactly how it happens, but suddenly Tom’s mouth is on yours. You jump at the gesture — you haven’t been touched in months. You hover back over his lips, eyelashes so close to fluttering right where his cheekbones are. You bridge the gap to kiss him back properly this time, slowly, and he licks at your top lip and your teeth and he tastes the slight mint flavor from the weed and the taste of sweet wine. Sometimes when Tom is high or drunk enough, he feels as though his body splits with each half gliding through different ends of a spectrum. With his mouth on yours, he feels himself stretch back into place again. Something whole, something holy.
He pretends that you didn’t just hear him mumble “missed you” in between your kisses, choosing to distract you by working down your neck. You’d always loved that, he has you memorized, and his stomach aches when he bites into your flesh ever so slightly and you whine. God, he can’t help himself. Tom knows this is a bad idea and that he should stop, but it’s like his mouth was made to be on your skin.
Your breath hitches and suddenly you’re on Tom’s lap, mouth fixed to his and your hands pulling at his chestnut locks. He lets a small groan that drives you certifiably insane. You’re a little too eager to grind slowly in his lap which makes the grip he has on your hips tighter. He breaks away from this only to stumble over to the door to close it, nearly tripping over himself in the process and startling you because it slams rather loudly. This makes you chuckle.
“C’mere,” Tom rasps, back to the front of you and pulling on your sleeve like a little kid towards the foot of his bed. He grabs your waist again and you’re pushed on top of him, grinding once again on his growing length. You switch places quickly once he grabs ahold of your ass and flips you over. His hands roam your body but mostly around your neck and your love handles, fingers groping just underneath your bra as if he’s silently asking your permission to touch your breasts. You bring his hand there himself and kneads your breast as he attacks your neck. “Tell me… what… you want…” he breathes heavily into the space between your neck and jaw.
You whine in response. “You know how to use your words, pretty girl. C’mon.”
Your eyes are shut because your heart is probably beating faster than the speed of light, but it’s like a spell is put over you. You’re staring right at him and his eyes are full of hunger — a sight you had only been dreaming about night after night in the past few months. From your head high, it felt like you were in a dream right then. “You… I-I want you,” you mumble.
“Want me where?” he raises an eyebrow, kissing down your stomach and tugging off your skirt.
“Tom, please,” you rasp in a weak voice just above a whisper. It’s a miracle he can hear you at all. Your eyes lock with his intently as he cascades down to your sweet spot, wet and begging to be touched.
“Please, what?” His mouth curls into a shit-eating smirk. He knows exactly what he does to you.
“Touch me, anywhere, please. Your… your mouth. Please?” you ask, gasping once he takes a finger to your clit and rubs generously. You try to hold back a moan but you can’t. You’re already unraveling and your body feels like it’s on fire. And yet, he’s just beginning.
“Poor baby. My poor girl. So pitiful for me right now,” he taunts, lapping at your folds with his tongue. Your eyes are wide with euphoria, the alcohol and weed in your system making you feel lighter and lighter. “Oh,” you whimper, legs shaking as Tom kisses your core sweetly and runs his tongue over your clit so slowly. Your head is on his pillow and you can smell him, the fresh scent of laundry and citrus fruits on his sheets. He uses the same body wash that you used to keep at your place. You hated (loved) how easily he could make you come undone, writhing under his touch when he was barely going down on you for more than three minutes.
You’re so close. Dangerously close. Pulling his curls and bucking your hips upward, he’s nearly drowning in your sweetness. Taking your desperation as a hint, he inserts a finger, then another, pumping with tantalizing strokes. Tom sighs into your warmth when you moan just a bit louder, your chest heaving with heat. “Fuck,” you rasp. “Fuck… I’m—“
Your walls constrict around Tom’s slender fingers until he hits your g-spot, causing you to nearly shriek. “Tommy, please…”
He lifts his mouth an inch above your pelvis and you whine in protest. Smirking, he kisses you there again and his voice is low and full of lust. “Gonna come for me? Yeah?”
“Yes… please keep going,” you reply with neediness. Seconds pass and soon you’re riding your orgasm like a wave, tenderness in the pit of your stomach that blooms like a flower. Your eyes were screwed shut so hard that when you open them the ceiling is different colors until a pair of brown eyes settle on your face. Tom is on top of you now, knee in between your legs and hands on your throat as he peppers your jaw with sloppy kisses. His hand caresses your cheek and turns your face towards him.
“So cute when you come,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Feel good?”
“Mhmm” comes out like a mewling sound. You’re still a writhing mess under him. You’ve probably forgotten your own name. In response, you kiss him passionately with more force than before. His eyelashes flutter in surprise and he groans once your hand hooks around the back of his neck once again. Your hand reaches down to his groin and rubs against his hardened length. “You have too many clothes on,” you say. Tom chuckles and unbuckles his belt, pulling his jeans off of him. The moan in your mouth says more, and now his bare chest is underneath your fingertips. So pretty.
Tom pauses and pulls away from you with a look of concern on his face. The first moment in the night where he genuinely looks slightly embarrassed. “You sure you want this?” You nod eagerly. He crawls over your body to his nightstand and pulls out a condom. “Off,” he whispers, fingers hooked around your red panties. Tuesday, it reads, next to a small embroidered cherry. He chuckles, taking in the sight of you looking like a kitten with longing, hair fanned out over his pillowcase. He missed this, the sight of an angel on his bed.
“So wet for me,” he coos, rubbing your clit again before stepping out of his briefs and rolling the condom down his length. You’ve already discarded your top.
“Shut up,” you mumble against his mouth, and now you’re the one pinning his arms to the bed, lowering yourself onto him. “Fuck,” Tom groans against your shoulder, biting it to suppress his voice from getting any louder. “You’re so fucking pretty, y/n.”
His hands are tangled in your hair as you ride him. He can feel you smile against his neck. You love the way your name falls out of his mouth unconsciously during this whole thing while his fingers rake your shoulder blades down to your ass. Tom flips you over and enters you again, thrusting harder while you whimper at the pressure inside you. How heavenly he feels inside of you, reaching all the right places. You can’t believe this is happening. Especially after all these months of absolutely nothing, and here he is, fucking you like you’re the only person in his world.
Your face is screwed from the impact and Tom thinks this is probably one of the best nights of his semester. Year, even, considering he hadn’t seen you in so long. Not like this. “Feels so good, fuck, yes,” you moan. You gasp when his thrusts get harder and his finger settles back to your clit. “Oh… oh, god. Tommy!”
“You’re going to make me come if you keep saying my name like that,” Tom growls into your ear. He nibbles at it, licks you in the sensitive spot that you like right behind your ear, then cascades to your neck to leave marks.
“Tommy, please,” you whimper, slight tears falling from your eyes because of what he’s doing to you — making your entire body vibrate and light up like fireworks. He shuts you up with an aggressive kiss as his hand is wrapped around your throat tightly. His thrusts get sloppier as he covers your mouth with his hand. Your eyes are lulling, half closed from the bliss. When he pulls his hand away, your lips look bruised, though neither of you can tell if it’s from your smudged lipstick or a wine stain. “So pretty like this,” he whispers, tasting your gasps in his mouth. Neither of you can speak after he lifts your legs up high to hoist around his shoulders, giving him even deeper access to your core. His mouth moves to your tits, sucking your nipples in his mouth. With a vigorous thrust he groans loudly. You can tell he’s close by the way his face is scrunched up, distracted by the feeling of you and you only, because he can’t even form a sentence. The pressure inside your pussy grows again and heat takes over the whole of your body until you reach your peak. “Fuck! I’m gonna… I…” you trail off and gasp when the orgasm hits and suddenly Tom is moaning into your mouth again, legs going slack as he comes inside of you shortly after. His body falls on top of yours as you both breathe heavily in the dark. Drenched in sweat, he gets up to remove the condom and falls back into the bed next to you. Silence falls around the room besides your labored breaths.
For some reason, shame causes Tom’s face to flush, because although he was just inside you, he doesn’t want to look at you. No, he does, he thinks he could stare at you forever until the end of time, but not right now. All he knows is that he wants you, has always wanted you, and now that he’s had you, he feels as if he had broken something very delicate. Broken an unspoken rule between the two of you. You’re quiet next to him and he peeks at you from the corner of his eye. He can’t make out your facial expression — whether you’re calm or angry or neutral. You’re just staring at his ceiling and your chest is rising and falling just in time with his breaths.
He should probably apologize. But who the fuck says ‘sorry’ after sex?
“You don’t have to tell me it was a bad idea. I already know,” your voice sounds robotic and it makes me him want to cry.
“That’s really what you think?”
You turn to him now, your face cold. “I already knew that was what you were thinking.” You sit up and pull your underwear back on, protectively crossing your arms over your chest as you step over him to get your phone from the windowsill. Before you can get it, Tom grabs your arm and you turn around to see his pleading face.
“Please, y/n, not everything has to be a conflict,” he begs.
“But it’s already there. It’s… it’s really obvious,” you reply meekly, wiping your face. You curse your vulnerability once again because here you are, starting to cry while you’re naked in Tom’s room. Your ex-boyfriend’s room. “Um, we’re both really fucked up right now, huh? It was a mistake. People get horny really easily. We’re… dumb.”
“Baby, come here, please,” Tom looks at you sadly, cradling you into his arms. “I… I’m sorry for everything that happened. I just want you next to me right now.”
You’re cold and frozen like a statue, looking up at him with tears prickling your eyes. You don’t know what to say. Let me leave you. Let me be the one who fucking leaves this time.
“I don’t regret what just happened, y/n. I… I love you.” Before you can react to his words he kisses you, this time in a way that is much more desperate than before. This isn’t supposed to be happening. He’s supposed to kick you out.
You can’t help but kiss back. I love you is the only thing echoing in your mind right now. Sure, he’s said it to you countless of times, but it feels like it’s been ages since those three words held as much weight as it does right now. Tom stops kissing you once he can feel your warm tears against your face, the saltiness hitting his mouth. He grabs your face gently and your eyes are screwed closed. “Please look at me.”
You shake your head like he’s a nightmare you’re trying to wake up from. “Please, y/n.”
This is probably the most you’ve ever heard him say please and I’m sorry.
“I love you, too,” you whisper, but it sounds more like a small croak because of your tears. “I don’t want to leave.”
“So don’t. I promise I won’t, either,” he says.
Something inside Tom snaps. His heart aches at the sight of you and suddenly the memories of all your tears from months ago flood into his brain. He realizes he never wants to see you like that again. He takes his shirt and wipes your face with it. You blow your nose into it instead, which harbors a laugh from the both of you.
You move towards his dresser and pull out the first t-shirt you can find. It’s very large, comically large even for him, and it has the Captain America symbol on it. You turn around and sneer. “You are so fucking lame.” Tom giggles.
“With that attitude, I’ll make you sleep on the floor.”
“Yeah, right. I can sleep on the floor if you want.”
“No! I need you in good shape tomorrow. I’m gonna make the best post-hangover breakfast you’ve ever seen,” Tom replies, throwing on his discarded t-shirt and combing his fingers through his unruly hair. His eyes are lit up at the sight of you in his clothes. It’s been too long.
“Am I gonna die from it?” you grin, lacing your fingers with his as he ushers you back to the bed.
summary: fifty bucks to kiss the new guy, what can go wrong
pairing: peter parker x fem!stark!reader
navigation | weekly schedule
gif is not mine
"You want to do what!" You looked at Sam and Pietro
"Fifty bucks to kiss the recruit." Sam repeated smirking.
"What if he's old, I'm in high school remember." You reminded the three.
"Don't worry, he's in high school." Pietro confirmed. "We wouldn't give you the dare if he was older."
You eyed the two of them, it was no secret that you practically did anything anyone asked you which prompted everyone on the team excluding your dad to do something stupid, which you followed through.
"I want $25 now." You stuck out your hand.
"Aren't you worth over 12 billion dollars?" Pietro furrowed his brows.
"My dad is." You shrugged. "I have less than $100 in my bank account."
Sam pulled out his wallet handing you the $25. You smirked, pocketing the money in your back pocket before starting to walk out of the room.
"Call me when they get here!" You yelled over your shoulder.
You heard the alert calling for the team to meet in the conference room. You sauntered taking your designated spot next to Wanda, across from Natasha.
You leaned on your hand, listening to your father go over to protocols, something he did whenever someone new joined the team. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sam and Pietro smirking knowing your newest teammate will be here today.
You three laid on the couch, scrolling through Netflix, trying to agree on what to watch.
"Ahem!" You turned to see your dad and a man in a mask next to him. You recognized him as Spiderman, someone your dad had been talking about recently. "Everyone, this Spiderman, the newest Avenger."
You droned out your dad's voice staring at man feeling some sense of familiarity towards him. It wasn't until Pietro slapped your shoulder, you remembered the bet.
Springing out of your seat, you walked towards Spiderman, lifting up the bottom of his mask. You wasted no time kissing him, letting your hands rest under his jaw.
"Welcome to the team." You whispered before pulling off the rest of his mask.
The boy was no older than you were, his hair was stuck in every direction, his lips swollen and his cheeks red.
"W-What-" He stammered looking at your eyes. "You're Y/n Stark."
"I am, and you are?" You traced your fingers on the spider emblem on his chest.
"P-Peter Parker." He stuttered.
"Well then I'll see you around Peter Parker." You kissed his cheek.
Reader recording her first topless scene as an actress with some guy and she thinks tom would be jealous or something but then he's all like: fuck I forgot you look so good on top
Looking Good || T.H.
warnings: not explicit but enough that I ask minors to not engage. mentions of sex, penises and boobies
word count: 761
a/n: i am sorry I just reread the request and it said topless scene but i took that as sex scene, i hope you still enjoy!
Tom stood behind one of the cameras on set, a scowl carved into his already sharp features as he watched you in your white robe provided by the costume department. His mood was soured when he opened his eyes at your alarm, awakening with you to go to work with you. You and Tom were both aware of the fact that nudity was a part of your jobs but it didn’t make the every territorial Tom feel any better about the fact that you were going to work and getting naked and climbing on top of naked man, a man that wasn’t him. When he found this out he insisted on coming to set with you that day and you obliged, it actually made you feel slightly comforted knowing that he would be there, a safe presence when you had to get your tits out in front of around 20 people.
You looked over your shoulder from where you stood next to the set bed, sending Tom a soft smile in an attempt to calm his tense stature, your eyes looking deep into his as you tried to wordlessly assure him that it was all gonna be okay and after this you would be back in his arms. The signal worked slightly, Tom’s shoulders relaxing slightly and his arms falling from where they had been crossed defensively over his chest.
Throughout the rest of the prepping for the scene you made sure to keep sending Tom reassuring looks and blow him the occasional kiss but as soon as it was time to film and you reached for the ties on your robe you noted how he tensed out of the corner of your eye but you had to ignore it, not let it affect your performance as you stood with your co star, a highly attractive man who’s towel was already discarded, standing in front of you with only a genital bag on(I researched it and men put their bits in this little bag for sex scenes). You chuckled with the awkwardness of it all as you let your towel fall too, your breasts being exposed to the entirety of the room as you tried to maintain your composure, not getting too self conscious with all of the eyes on you, it wasn’t sexual at all, it was a professional environment but that didn’t make it feel that much better.
Tom bit his tongue and held himself back as he watched your leg swing over the man’s hips, bracketing them as you came to rest on his barely covered dick, your tits in his face. His anger was unnecessary and he was aware of that, he knew you would never hurt him and that this was quite awkward for you as well. Shockingly as the scene continued Tom’s annoyance dissipated, his previous discomfort rapidly being replaced as he watched your tits move as you faux ground your hips against the man beneath you. The scene was something so interesting for him to see, it was like watching what the two of you did together from out of his body, but it was also different, he noted the difference in tone in your moans, they didn’t sound as true as they did when you were with him, well obviously you were faking it but it still made him grin from ear to ear, it affirmed that you had never once faked a moan with him.
Tom continued to watch, no longer out of protectiveness but out of admiration from the way your body moved, his will power was wearing thin and his cock was hardened in his boxers, lips trapped between his teeth as he gnawed on them, waiting in anticipation as you moved off of your costar when the director called cut and announced that it was a wrap for the day. You moved directly to Tom, expecting to have to diffuse the London boy's rage but you found something else you had to diffuse and it wasn’t his anger, it was more carnal than that.
“Hi Tommy” you chirped apprehensively as you wrapped your arms around Tom’s waist, you waited for a response as you rested your head against him but none came. “Tommy?” your arms tightened as you tilted your head to catch his eyes.
“We need to get home” he smirked at you, snapping out of his daze.
“Are you alright?” you asked, worry on your features.
“‘M fine love, I just forgot how fucking good you look on top and I think I need a reminder”
forehead kisses while your lover is asleep with tom holland please!!
warnings— none, fluff.
notes— this is so bad, im sorry.
you appeared to be his most desired movie. a film that he’d watch on repeat for hours.
there’s something so intoxicating and inviting about the parted notion of your plump lips. faded whispers embellishing your tongue like a whirlwind. unbeknownst weaving of your nose to bare skin of his torso.
you could never see one without the other.
couldn’t anyone tell that they were infatuated with eachother?
it was always y/n and tom. the couple most everyone envied, because it appeared as if their love didn’t run out.
his adoration burned whilst he peered and gawked at his little lovie. a tornado doing twirls in the pit of his stomach. hooded eyelids closed with ease— recalling she felt safe. steady and sound with a muscular limb encapsulating her slumped figure.
exhausted could hardly describe the composure that had overcome you after a night out with girlfriends. a series of tom scooping you up bridal style past the stairs, to swiping a makeup wipe to rid the mascara from your eyes. he’s observed sleep withstand you since.
calloused fingertips danced carefully about your red-stained cheeks, flushed from the epitome of tom. yearning to tap and stamp each ounce of your skin.
God, i’m so lucky to love you.
his thoughts enraptured him, the intensity of it all enough to have his lips transforming into that of a pucker. combing back the tresses of your forehead, making way for the peppered pecks he was itching to place to your flesh.
crinkles of his chapped lips collide with your forehead, smoothly. calling for a gentle gesture of kisses, still not losing sight of you coddling beside him afraid to wake you. a minuscule stunning blank canvas that he’d paint repeatedly with his mouth for as long as you let him.
Summary: you meet tom when your friend recommends you take boxing lessons, leading to a small mutual crush that blooms after tom celebrates the success of a big fight with you.
Word count - 4400
Warnings - possible language i can’t remember, obvious mentions of violence
A/n - i literally have no idea what im talking about so if somethings inaccurate please just ignore it. my knowledge of boxing is the movie warrior and the one scene in avengers of steve
You were never one that could see yourself taking something like boxing lessons. You wouldn’t call yourself a fighter, however growing up with brothers meant you’d learnt how to defend yourself well enough up until now. The opportunity presented itself through one of your friends as they recommended their own talented, and according to her, very hot trainer. So, you decided to give it a go, what was there to lose?
Upon entering the building you felt instant regret, seeing the many people littering the gym made you slightly nervous knowing you were going to have to partake in this in front of them, and what if you were bad? What if they laughed at you? Your hands shook slightly from the nerves and with a few deep breaths you were inching further into the gym, trying to avoid the countless eyes you felt on you. Your own eyes landed on the front desk where a rather attractive blonde man sat, his fingers typing away on the computer.
You approached the counter with a warm smile, patiently waiting until the man looked up.
“Hi, I’m Harrison,” he greeted, offering you his hand to shake. You noticed the slightly bruised skin of his knuckles, leading you to believe he was also a fighter as well as working the reception area of the gym. The name rang a bell in your head and he could tell with the look on your face that you were trying to piece it together. “You must be Y/N,” he said. You nodded your head, flashing him a smile in which he saw the realisation cross your face. Your lips turning into an ‘o’ shape. “Jess’ trainer,” you said.
He hummed, letting go of your hand to begin leading you toward the ring. “Ding ding. Unfortunately, I’m not going to be the one training you today.”
He saw you visibly deflate. You’d assumed that seeing as he trained your friend, and she’d recommended him to you, then he would be the one to train you. Now you were unsure if you still wanted to continue knowing you were going to be left in the hands of a complete stranger. “Don’t worry. He’s one of my best guys and he will treat you perfectly.”
His words did little to tame your nerves, the man leading you over to the corner of the ring where two men were talking. He called one of their names and the shorter brunette turned around with a wide smile.
He was attractive, you had to say, cute freckles, messy curls sitting on his head and charming brown eyes that glanced at your figure, crinkling in the corners when he caught you staring.
“This is Y/N,” Harrison introduced. Hearing your name you snapped out of your slight daze, smiling shyly at Tom and holding out your hand
“Hi, I’m Tom,” he greeted, shaking your hand just like Harrison had. The blonde looked between you two before settling his gaze on Tom with a cheeky smile. “He doesn’t know this yet, but he’s actually going to train you today,” he said, clapping his hands together as he saw the way Tom’s eyes comically widened.
“But you said-“ he began, cutting himself off as he tried to process the information that’d just been dropped on him. Harrison had told Tom he’d be taking a client that he himself was supposed to be training today, but he’d seemingly left out the fact you were a woman.
It wasn’t that he had anything against you or any woman that wanted to box, but Tom was used to training men, men that had been boxing for years with a very high skill set. Which meant sometimes he didn’t know his own strength and he wasn’t looking to injure someone today.
So yes it may come across as sexist in your eyes, but he was just scared he’d accidentally hurt you, and that Harrison, someone who frequently trained women, would be much better at this than he would. “I-I can’t. What if I hurt her?” he said.
Those words alone seemed to fill you with a confidence you didn’t have upon entering the building, and suddenly for the first time since you’d agreed to Jess’ persistence in taking this opportunity, you were more than ready to get started.
Tom watched with wide, fearful eyes as you strapped a pair of gloves on your hands with his friend's assistance.
“Slow your roll there. How do you know I won’t hurt you?” you teased. That seemed to make him laugh, slightly too hysterically for your liking and you and Harrison shared a similar look of confusion and distaste. Apparently that was all it took to warm Tom up to the idea of trying to train you, picking up his own set of gloves.
“Hey, Y/N?” Harrison called, watching with a careful eye as you stepped closer to Tom. “Kick his arse for me.” You laughed to yourself, seeing Tom shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. He slipped his own pair of gloves on and warmed himself up, shaking out his muscles before getting into his starting position, one he had you mimic.
“Alright, let’s go.” His cocky demeanor you’d had a brief glimpse at was back. The cheeky smile on his face and the way he spurred you on was a clear sign of that. You nodded your head, aiming your punches for the hands he held up, just like he instructed you.
You didn’t intend to get carried away so quickly. But, in your defense you weren’t expecting Tom to switch up the pattern you’d just gotten used to, meaning your hand unintentionally collided with his face, quite hard if you did say so yourself. At least it was hard enough that it landed Tom on the ground, clutching his face as a snort sounded from the blonde man behind you.
“Oh my- I’m so sorry,” you said, bending down to try and inspect his injury. Guilt burned in your chest at the thought of hurting him accidentally, even if you had previously stated that you were going to, all of which was a joke of course.
You could hear Harrison laughing outside the ring, but you were too distracted by Tom’s pained groan as you helped him turn onto his back on the floor.
His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, convinced you’d managed to wind him with your surprising strength even if you didn’t hit him anywhere near his chest. His hand came up to clutch his face desperately, his head turning in the direction of where Harrison was standing a few feet away laughing at his friend.
“Are you okay?” you asked, settling your hand on his shoulder gently. He noticed you’d shed the gloves, your bare hands seeming much less intimidating than your gloved ones. “‘M okay,” he said. “You have a really strong hit.”
You rose to your feet again, seeing the way he laid on the ground rather startled by everything that had just happened, especially as it happened so quickly. “I grew up with brothers,” you explained. “Kind of had to hit hard or be hit hard, you know.”
He hummed, eyes focused on the ceiling as he tried to ignore the pain blossoming in his face. You really meant it when you said you could hurt him and he was regretting everything he’d said before.
“Need a hand, pretty boy?” you teased, grinning down at his exhausted form. He flashed you a sarcastic smile, taking your outstretched hand in his. You carefully helped him up, accidentally pulling him a little too close, your noses nearly touching from the proximity.
“Sorry. Uh, sorry again for hitting you also,” you said, laughing nervously as you grew increasingly flustered under his intense gaze. He brushed it off like it was nothing, even if part of his face was throbbing like he’d just been hit with an entire brick wall. “It’s all good.”
It took Harrison coughing to remind the two of you where you were, stepping a few steps back from each other so you were a reasonable distance apart. “Well, I think that was probably a good first lesson,” he said. “Why don’t we get you some ice? And hope you don’t get a knockout like that during your actual match.”
With that the man was walking away, leaving you and Tom to stand there awkwardly. “I-I don’t always perform like that,” he said, chuckling. “Usually I’m a lot better at, well you know, staying off the ground.”
You laughed together. “I’d hope so.” Your unsure words seemed to spark something in Tom, the man’s posture straightening slightly as he made you an offer.
“Why don’t you come watch my fight, let me redeem myself.” You were originally going to turn the offer down, telling him it wasn’t that big of a deal because you were sure this was just a small hiccup. But he looked as though he was ready to insist, his eyes more or less pleading with you silently.
“You really don’t need to prove anything. We just met today, remember?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but this wasn’t a great first impression on my half.”
You didn’t have time to say much else, seeing as Harrison had come back with the much needed ice pack for the brunette.
“Here’s your ice.” Tom’s gaze didn’t leave you as he took the pack from Harrison, bringing it up to his face to soothe the area you’d hit. He watched as your lips curved into a smile. “I’ll be there.”
Over the last few weeks you and Tom had gotten much closer during your sessions, to the point you would say maybe you had a little crush on him. It wasn’t difficult to see past his cocky demeanor to find that he was actually a really nice guy, plus he was attractive so of course that was a bonus.
You ended up moving your sessions to the last one’s in Tom’s schedule for the day, just so you could take your time and be the last ones left in the gym. That had led to a few near miss kisses that happened to be interrupted nearly every time by the janitor that always cut your time together short.
You entered the gym a little bit before your session and your eyes fell on Tom and a man in the ring that you knew to be his trainer. This was Tom’s practice time for his fight later that month, and you had absolutely no protests watching him like this.
He was only aware you’d entered when the man opposing him noticed you sauntering through the gym. He nodded his head in your direction and Tom turned with a smile on his face. “Hey, there’s my favourite student,” he announced. You tossed a wave in his direction as a greeting, setting down your stuff and choosing to watch as he finished up his training.
It wasn’t too long until he was climbing out of the ring, reaching for his water bottle to try and calm his racing heart and fulfill his desperate thirst he’d built up through his exercise.
“So, any tips before we get started?” you asked. Your eyes surveyed his physique as he cooled down, admiring the way the plain black shirt became nearly skin tight as it clung to every muscle and ridge on his chest and biceps.
You were still a little distracted when he opened his mouth to answer your question, but the smirk on his face when he caught you staring was enough to snap you back to reality.
“You could actually be really good if you improved your technique,” he told you, taking a swig from his water bottle as he finished up with his trainer.
“You think so?” you asked, feeling yourself grow a little more confident in your newfound hobby upon accepting the compliment. He nodded his head, waving goodbye to the man he was with before. He took your hand in his and led you over to where they kept the boxing gloves and wrap, getting ready to prepare you for your session.
The two of you took a seat on one of the benches and he took your hand into his lap to wrap the fabric around your knuckles. The way he did it so gently made your heart flutter, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you tried to contain the smile threatening to break out on your face.
You didn’t know how to put it into words but the action felt so intimate to you. You easily could have done this yourself, but there was something about the way he was doing it with such care. His fingertips were light when they traced the exposed parts of your skin, bringing a ticklish sensation that had you biting back a giggle.
It came to an end much too soon for your liking, the wraps being secured against your hands to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself too much.
The only other assistance he gave you was slipping on your second boxing glove for you, fastening the ties so they were tight enough that they didn’t slip from your hands.
You decided you were feeling playful, raising your hand to lightly punch Tom’s arm with the glove. He turned around with wide eyes, scoffing as he dodged your attempt at hitting him a second time.
“Stop it,” he warned, his voice laced with amusement as he scolded you like a parent. He couldn’t wipe that cheeky grin off of your face though.
Instead his hands reached out to grab your hips. He guided you over to the punching bag and helped you get into the proper position. He’d tap your thigh if you needed to readjust your stance, or he himself would turn your body if you needed to.
When he was sure you wouldn’t pull any kind of muscle with the way you were standing, he stepped forward so your back was pressed against his chest, his arms around you to guide your own arms into hitting the bag with his technique.
He was essentially just barking orders in your ear of which hand to bring forward to hit and when. It was growing increasingly frustrating. You were growing stubborn too, your hits coming to a slow as you made the decision that there was no way you were going to continue doing this with him yelling at you.
“Why are you slowing down?” he asked. You pulled away from his touch reluctantly to spin around, your back against the punching bag.
“Cause you keep yelling at me,” you pouted. He thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He lifted his hand and lightly tugged at your bottom lip, making sure it snapped back into place so you’d stop trying to guilt trip him.
He was utterly weak for you, there was no way he could say no.
“Okay, okay. ‘m sorry, I’ll be nicer.”
The remainder of your session was spent working on your technique with you yelling at Tom every time his voice raised too loud. It didn’t take long for your patience to wear thin with him, and you finally cracked, whipping your head around to look at him before more or less demanding you were done.
“I think that’s enough for today,” you said, giving up, thrusting your hands toward him as a silent plea to help you get the gloves off.
He complied, shrugging his shoulders as he accepted your words. Your noises nearly touched as he loosened the gloves and you couldn’t help but flicker your gaze between his eyes and his inviting lips.
“Tom?” you whispered, drawing his attention away from his fumbling fingers to nothing but you. He hummed, finding your eyes locked in a desperate stare. You were ever so slowly edging forwards, so slight you didn’t even realise you were doing it until your noses did actually touch.
You only pulled away upon hearing the doors of the gym opening, followed by the delighted whistling of a cheerful worker.
Once again you weren’t surprised that your potential kiss had been interrupted, you expected it at this point. The man apologised for barging in so suddenly but Tom just waved him off, assuring him that it was perfectly fine.
Neither of you made the effort to move out of one anothers embrace though, enjoying being so close to each other, even when you were practically soaked through with sweat.
You saw a quick look of realisation cast over his features. He pulled away from your hold and you unintentionally let out a whine, of course only sky rocketing his ego.
“Before I forget, I have your ticket for the match.” He rummaged through his bag for a few seconds before finding what he was looking for, holding it up between his two fingers for you to see the bold writing.
“Here you are,” he said, handing you the ticket for your reserved seat. You took it with a grateful thank you. “Front row, right next to Harrison.”
The man tugged you back into his embrace, hands sliding around your waist as yours made their way back around his neck.
“I can’t wait to see you get your arse kicked,” you teased, fingers tangling in the sweaty hair at the back of his neck. He laughed quietly, leaning forward ever so slightly and resting his forehead on yours.
“Don’t get your hopes up too much,” he said. His next words were full of pride, making you roll your eyes at the amount of confidence he possessed. “There’s a lot of money on me to win.”
You chuckled, leaning forward to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That’ll make the victory all the more satisfying when you lose then.”
He nodded, trying to recover from the small kiss that left him more flustered than he’d be willing to admit. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
The night of Tom’s big fight was one you weren’t expecting to be so huge. When the man had told you about it he’d left out how big and popular the event actually was.
You entered the venue with bulging eyes, taking note of the overwhelming number of people inside the building. It took a lot of navigating on your part, and asking multiple people, the limited number that were actually sober, to even find where the changing rooms were.
But as soon as you saw the familiar blonde head of hair and the familiar woman he was with you knew you were in the right place. That was if the journalists yelling Tom’s name didn’t give it away.
His eyes landed on your figure as soon as you timidly walked through the door, eyes searching the crowd for the brunette.
“You made it,” he grinned, pulling you into a quick hug to welcome you. You mumbled a greeting into his shoulder before the man was called by yet another person that needed to speak to him before the fight. His demeanor changed slightly as he cursed under his breath, but as soon as his eyes set on you again the smile was back.
“I gotta uh-“ You nodded, placing a friendly kiss on his cheek before shooing him away with a promise that you’d still be here when he came back.
Even while talking to the press he would send glances your way, catching your eye and occasionally even sending a wave or feigning a bored expression to let you know he’d much rather be there with you.
It felt like your prayers had been answered when Tom’s manager began to ask people to leave, telling them he needed to get ready. He managed to sneak over to you quickly so he could be the one to ask you to leave, it’d be much more polite coming from him rather than his grumpy old manager.
“I know we didn’t get much time, but you really should go find your seat.” You hummed, pulling him into a quick, friendly hug, trying to ignore the feeling of his bare chest pressing against you.
“Good luck. You’re going to need it,” you teased, kissing his cheek before following your friend to your seats for the match so Tom could finish getting ready and warmed up.
The anticipation was already killing you before the two even stepped into the ring, you couldn’t imagine how Tom felt, so you tried to pass the time by joining in conversation with Harrison and Jess, all while trying your best not to be a third wheel too.
“Hey, I’m curious,” you started, drawing the man’s attention from your friend to you. “Why did you have Tom train me that day?”
You watched as a small grin grew on Harrison’s face, one that only made you more suspicious of the man you now called a friend. You could also clearly see that Jess was trying to distract herself from getting involved, probably because she was just as, if not more, guilty than her lover.
“It was uh, Jess’ idea actually. Said she thought you two might be good together,” he shrugged. Your mouth gaped as you leaned forward to look at your far from innocent friend. You couldn’t exactly be mad at her, you’d found a great thing with a great guy that you were hoping would really lead somewhere, but you were definitely going to be having some words with her about setting you up with a guy without your knowledge.
You would’ve grilled her about it had the lights not dimmed slightly to start announcing the two opponents. But you did have to get the last word in. “We’re talking after this,” you told her, pointing your finger at her accusingly.
You had to be honest with yourself, you had no idea what was going on the entire fight, but you did know you didn’t enjoy seeing Tom getting hit in the face repeatedly. Regardless of how many lessons you’d taken with Tom you still had no idea how an actual boxing match worked, so you didn’t know if he was winning or losing, and you were almost sure Harrison would try and strangle you if you asked what was going on one more time. All you could do was just cross your fingers and really really hope he could do this.
It wasn’t until you saw his opponent go down in a knockout that you knew he’d won, a sense of pride filling your chest knowing all his hard work had paid off for him.
You could barely contain your excitement, cheering for him along with the crowd of strangers. The big screens above the ring helped to amplify the look of accomplishment on his face, your heart swelling. His eyes searched the crowd for you, catching you mid cheer of his name, the man mouthing a small ‘I did it’ that only had you cheering louder.
You felt the light touch of a hand on your arm, Harrison having to yell over the commotion to tell you they were going to head to the locker room to see Tom when he arrived. You agreed, looking back over to the ring to see the man already exiting with his team.
Like the gentleman he was, Harrison placed a hand on your back, just like he was doing for his own date, to safely guide you through the crowd of rowdy people. He was positive Tom would kill
him if you got lost or hurt.
Meanwhile Tom was trying to tame some of his energy. His excitement after making his way back to the changing rooms was difficult to contain. He was nearly bouncing on his feet as he waited, not so patiently, to see your pretty face walk through the door rather than some other journalist.
He didn’t have to wait long, you were only moments behind him and were practically running with how eager you were to see him.
He eventually saw you making your way through the crowd and had already opened his arms to welcome you, a wide grin on his face despite the aches he was beginning to feel in various places.
This time you’d decided you weren’t letting anyone get in the way of kissing him, and so you did just that, pressing your lips to his furiously the second you were in his embrace.
He melted into your lips and it was no longer a crowded room, just the two of you in your own little world. His fingertips were pressing deeper into your waist as the seconds ticked by, and the man nearly audibly groaned at the feeling of your hands in his hair.
“Congrats,” you whispered, barely pulling away from his lips to get the words out before you were kissing him again. You ignored the fact that he was sweaty and bruised and allowed him to pull you even closer, one of his arms tightly secured around your waist as you blocked out the flashes of the camera’s around you.
“Told you you’d be pleasantly surprised.” You shook your head, your grin so wide that it was making your cheeks ache. “Knew you could do it.”
He tried to act like he wasn’t shocked, but he did have a small inkling that you had always had faith in him, right from the time you floored him on your first meeting.
The chants of the press only grew louder upon seeing your interaction, demanding to know who the mysterious girl was hanging off of the arm of the boxer, but mostly they wanted to discuss how it felt for him to win the fight.
You saw how he looked between them and you, completely torn. He knew he needed to promote his win, if not his manager would no doubt knock him out himself, but he really didn’t feel like leaving you right now.
Plus you were really starting to hate the press for continuously stealing away your man.
“Go get ‘em soldier,” you encouraged, sending him in the direction of the press who desperately wanted a quote from the winner.
He squeezed your hand gratefully. “‘m gonna be right back to celebrate with you.”