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#tom holland au
hollandsmushroom · 2 days ago
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”
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tomhollandfics · a day ago
Meddle About - @lovewasted
perhaps tom doesn’t adore his family as much as he says he does
Stages Of Fatherhood - @lovewasted
you and tom are expecting your first child and he is super overprotective of you
All For Her - @screamholland
a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter - is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?
You Deserve That - @mrs-hollandstan
the birth of your two little girls isn't as smooth sailings as one would hope
Baby Bump Chats - @wizkiddx
the story of your pregnancy through toms eyes
Mother's Day Sweetness - @reawritesthings
tom had another way to say thanks for bringing his children into the world
Misunderstanding - @heytherejulia
your daughter misses her dad but infinity war isn't the best idea to cheer her up
How Old Are You? - @erule
you and your son bump into your ex, the famous movie star tom holland - he finds out soon enough that he has got a son
Staying Right Here - @earthlyholland
family isn’t just blood - your first father’s day with tom proves that
Always & Forever - @dahliaspidey
a little fight spirals into a much bigger snowball
Birthday Boy - @hollandsosterfield
tom took a few days off between the filming of two movies to be home for your eldest son’s birthday
Mornings - @petersholland
what makes a great family? a great husband, two adorable girls, and one sweet little fella - what more could you ask for?
Help - @starboyholland
tom is finally back home with you and the baby, while you know your husband needs to rest up, you can’t parent a new born by yourself for much longer
Every Step Of The Way - @sunshinehollandd
you and tom are best friends, and you have been for as long as you can remember - after one night, everything changes, but, tom is by your side every step of the way
We Need Help - @sunshinehollandd
you and tom need help with your new baby and call nikki for help
Best Day - @thollands
tom spoils you the most as he could, including a homemade gift that him and his daughter both made
Family Portrait - @marvelousell
tom being proud of his daughter’s first drawing
Barbecue Night - @mysticalrambling
tom and you are invited to a barbecue night at his family’s house - the whole night is spent with jokes and fun, you all tease each other a lot and you love every moment spent with them
Dad Duties - @mysticalrambling
you are sick so tom takes care of you and the twins, harry and gemma - he spends the whole day with the kids and when you feel better, you both watch a movie with the kids and tessa
Arrival - @scarletspideyy
you go into labour with your ex-boyfriend by your side
I can't See It - @peterbenjiparker
tom and you go to your first check up after you found out you were pregnant
Sleepy Babies - @watchmegetobsessed
waking in the middle of the night you find your husband sleeping with your daughter in his arms
Family Of Four - @watchmegetobsessed
the first time tessa meets your and tom’s baby
Baby Pink - @fratboievans
tom teaches your daughter some dance skills before her first ballet class
June Twenty-First - @petersholland
it’s tom’s first time celebrating father’s day - only, he doesn’t even know he gets to celebrate it
Little Ballerina - @iguessweallcrazyithinktho
tom has been away for a 2 months and he wanted to surprise his baby - he decided to surprise her while she was in ballet class
Big Sister - @blissfulparker
tom telling his daughter that she’s gonna have a baby brother
Operation Valentines - @blissfulparker
when your daughter makes tom set up the perfect valentine day morning
Somewhat Breakfast In Bed - @spiderboytotherescue
you're pregnant - tom and your two children spend the morning making you breakfast in bed...somewhat
That's The One - @magical-canoe
you and tom publicly announce your pregnancy, with harry’s help
The Delivery - @soulspideys
while in atlanta for shooting, y/n is heavily pregnant with tom’s baby - pretty easy to guess what happens next
Baby - @kelieah
tom adores you feeding the beautiful child you two made
Beautiful - @kelieah
after receiving backlash about your post-pregnancy body, spider-man saves the day
An Unexpected Gift - @kelieah
tom gets an unforgettable and a long-awaited birthday gift
My Everything - @sailingintothenight
a sleepless night after your baby is born
His Little Girl - @farfromharry
tom’s not ready to let his little girl grow up - so he’s definitely not happy to be meeting her boyfriend
Sure, Mummy - @spacebarnes
you weren't ready for that word, but you loved every letter of it
Delicate - @justcallmehitgirl
you’re six months pregnant, and tom is your best friend who wants to help raise your baby after your ex left you - oh, and tom happens to be in love with you
Obsessed - @tomholland-fics
tom finds a way to be there for you and your newborn when you need him
Don't Be Stressed - @tomholland-fics
tom and his wife can’t decide on a name for their baby girl
Pregnancy Series - @mendespideys
as a youtuber, you always document your life, both good and bad. this, of course, includes the new chapter of your life that you are about to embark on with your husband tom
Hey, Kid - @midnightmorales
y/n goes to her first doctor’s appointment while tom is off filming
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spideymix · a day ago
Fries and Tea
↳ Painting Us (Part 2)
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❯ Warnings: another cheesy joke :) and fluff
❯ Summary: Lunch break, otherwise known as the only time Y/N gets a break from her chaotic students. Another plus is she gets to eat with the person who constantly makes her heart skip a beat.
❯ A/N: I know I said the next chapters were gonna be longer but this one had to be short I'm sorry :(. Anyways I'm sorry for not posting this yesterday I was busy. I'm gonna be more active, I promise. Okay enough talking, Enjoy!
I was sitting in the teacher's lounge. Peaceful silence filled the room, no one was in there that's why. Anyways I was working on my new drawing. As I was sketching the nose I feel a chin on my shoulder.
"Wow, that looks amazing so far, Darling" I hear a thick British accent announce. I slightly look over my shoulder to be met with the face of Mr.Holland, Tom.
"It's just eyes and a nose." I chuckle, butterflies filling my stomach because of how close we were. He then shifted a little so he was kneeling next to me gazing at my drawing.
"Who's it supposed to be?" He asks. My eyes widen a little, it was him. I was drawing Tom. I didn't want him to know that, so I did what any normal person would do...
"It's a random person- I saw earlier...uh they" I stuttered out. He looks at me then back at the drawing. Tom looks over it again and grins a little.
"Really? It's just that nose looks awfully farmiliar." He notices. I mentally smack myself. How could he tell? You just started sketching the nose. I squeeze my eyes shut and my lips from a straight line.
"Aww, Darling were you drawing me?" He asks in excitement. He places one arm on the back of my chair and turns to look at me. Tom's face is full of joy.
"Maybe..." I mumble.
Tom says nothing, he just engulfs me into a hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and he basically lifts me off my chair to stand up. As we stand there, I take in his scent, I know it's weird but I want to remember the smell of Lavender and Cardamon. I don't know why I do, I just do. I could have stayed like that forever but Tom pulled away, he doesn't let go though. His hands are still on my back, mine go to his biceps. This man is built like a fuc- I mean freaking God. We just stand there gazing into each other's eyes.
"Uh...I needed to ask..." Tom starts. I feel my stomach tighten and my heart skip a few beats.
"What?" I whisper. We both start leaning in until our faces are only inches apart.
"Do you want me to go get your lunch from the cafeteria?" He asks breaking me away from the moment we were having.
" sure, thanks" I respond pulling away and sitting back down in my chair. I see Tom stand there in the same position for a second before going towards the door.
"Alright, I'll be back Y/N" He says pointing at me and chuckling. I shoot finger guns at him and giggle.
When he leaves I take a deep breath and think about what just happened.
"Did we almost kiss?" I whisper.
"Kiss who?" A farmiliar peppy voice says. I turn around to see Ms.Hall, Mandie. She's also my B.C.F, Best Counselor Friend. I don't think that's an actual thing but I made it one so that's all that matters.
Mandie comes and sits next to me at the table.
"Oh uh... nobody" I like picking up my pencil.
"Y/N I've known you for two years now...I know when you're lying" She says taking my pencil from me and placing it on the table.
"I'm serious" I defended. She gave me the 'You're lying' look. I groan and smack my forehead.
"Tom- Mr.Holland" I admit. Mandie gasps and grabs both of my hands like a school girl.
"You have to tell me everything!" She squeals.
"Mandie, we're not in highschool...well we're not attending it right now, plus it wasn't that big of a-" before I finished Tom walked in with my lunch.
"Alright I have a plate of school nuggets, and they didn't have any water so I got you some tea- oh hey Ms.Hall" Tom explains sitting my plate down in front of me.
"Hello Mr.Holland, I was just leaving" Mandie says getting up. Before she leaves she gives me a thumbs up and winks. I roll my eyes and then to Tom who sat in the seat right next to me.
"What was that about?" Tom asks opening his Barbecue sauce packet.
"Don't worry about it" I start drinking my tea.
We sit there for a second and just eat. It wasn't really an akward silence, more of a normal one. As I was about to eat my last nugget, I see Tom's hand come into view and steal one of my fries. I make a fake shocked expression and swat his hand away.
"Hey! Those are mine!" I fake pout.
"I'm sorry, but I'm really hungry" he chuckles.
"Whatever" I say picking up my pencil. I begin sketching again. Now that he knows, I had no problem looking at him for reference. Tom keeps eating (stealing my fries), not noticing me glancing at him. That was until he looked up from his papers.
"What?" He asks, mouth full of fries.
"I'm trying to get the eyebrows just right." I explain squinting at my notepad. I look back up and take a bold step scooting closer to look at his face. I feel him tense up so I don't get too close. I gently touch his left eyebrow trying to figure out how to sketch it. His gaze falls to my lips, I act like I don't notice but I do.
My eyes meet his and Tom smiles a little. His arm goes around the back of my chair and my pencil accidentally falls out of my hand. I didn't really care because I was too focused on him. We just sit there for a second before he says something.
"You smell like paint" We both burst out laughing and my forehead falls to his shoulder. I turn back around but then realized my pencil was gone. Before I could find it I see the clock and realized there was only 5 minutes before my next class, which is on the other side of the school.
"Dang it I have to get to my classroom before the kids do!" I say quickly cleaning up my seat.
"Oh I need to aswell!" He says doing the same.
We finished cleaning and bolted across the school to the fine arts hall. I get to my class with a minute to spare. Before I shut the door Tom pops his head in.
"I have a theater jokes as payback for yesterday" he says with a grin.
"Okay but hurry up" I giggle.
"Why do thespians have great hair?" He asks grinning.
"They want the perfect part" He says putting his hands up and laughing. I burst out laughing before hearing the bell ring.
"Get to the auditorium you big cheese ball" I say pushing him out of my room. He flashes me one more smile before jogging to the auditorium door.
I walk back to my desk and take a deep breath. These next few months are going to be fun.
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Follow @spideymix for more
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449 · a day ago
ships in the night | series
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summary ↦ europe always sounds nice when you’re going through an existential crisis. but when fate has you running into the same handsome (and slightly annoying) stranger over and over again, you get more out of your trip than you ever bargained for.
pairing ↦ golfer?tom?? x female reader
a/n ↦ ok what the hell i had an idea so i started writing but things sort of spiraled out of control and... here we are lol my first long form fic so please don’t yell at me!! this is not based on ‘before sunrise’ but it lowkey kinda turned out to be? aaand technically it is golfer!tom but that detail isn’t really important to the story (💔), more so the fact that he isn’t famous! if you hate cliches then this is definitely not the story for you because it is literally like i took every single overplayed literary and movie trope/line out there and threw it into this series. but anyway! i hope you enjoy <3
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( chapters will be linked as they are updated !! )
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itsallyscorner · 3 months ago
The Pink Shirt
Pairing: Tom Holland x reader
Summary: Based off of Tommy’s obsession with the pink shirt from Zara. Also because I bought the damn shirt for myself as well😭
Warnings: none—I lied. Filthy, dirty, kinda funny, horny smut. Tom is down bad and I need to touch some grass.
A/n: I had this idea so now I’m writing it! Wanted to do some free writing and not requests to let myself ease back into my writing mindset:) might help me get out of a writer’s funk! Hope you loves like it💕
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(my best boy🥺)
✧───── ・ 。゚★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧
With your eyes still shut with sleep, you stretched your limbs, loosening up your muscles from the long night of slumber. Your arm reaches out to the space beside you, expecting to feel the warm body of your boyfriend. When your hand only comes to contact with the comforter, your eyes slowly peel open. Your head rises from your pillow, looking around for any sign of Tom.
His side of the bed was still fairly warm, the outline of his body slightly imprinted into the sheets. The sunlight from the windows peek into the room, causing you to squint. You plop your head back onto the bed, turning to nuzzle your face into Tom’s pillow. His familiar smell of lavender, warm spices, and hints or cedarwood enter your senses and you can’t help but snuggle deeper into his pillow.
A clang in the kitchen startles you. He’s probably getting his morning tea, you thought to yourself. As much as he hated to admit it, Tom was a morning person. He enjoyed waking up early: he got to watch the sun rise, have a morning workout, and he got the opportunity to watch you peacefully sleep. Some people might find the last part creepy, but he swears it isn’t, he just likes to stare at your face.
Deciding to get a move on for the day, you haul yourself out of bed and reach down to the floor for the first article of clothing you can find. The shirt on the floor happened to be one of Tom’s. It was a new shirt of his that he had bought from Zara while you two were out doing rounds around the city. You had suggested it to him, saying that pink complimented his skin and that he needed more color in his closet. Obviously, he bought the shirt. You hadn’t expected him to immediately wear it, but the moment he wore it, he never wanted to take it off. The infamous pink shirt became a staple in his wardrobe and he was obsessed with it.
You pull the shirt over your head and pair it with some shorts. You continue your morning routine, heading into the connected bathroom and freshening yourself up for the day. When you felt presentable, you walked out the room and headed straight to the kitchen. You heard the quiet murmurs of Tom and the sizzling on the stove. You could hear him make little comments to Tessa and return to humming Kiss Me More by Doja Cat and SZA. The song had been stuck in your head, meaning that it was played almost 24/7 wherever you went. Tom must’ve heard the song from you one too many times and it got stuck in his head as well.
You enter the kitchen, immediate being greeted by Tessa. Your voice goes a pitch higher as you bend down to snuggle her. “Good morning darling!” You say in a babyish voice, petting and pressing kisses to her head. Her tail wags in excitement, happy to have the attention on her.
Tom notices your presence, looking over his shoulder to see you with Tessa. He turns back to the eggs on the stove but quickly does a double take when he sees a flash of pink on you. On you was his favorite pink shirt. He didn’t have a problem with you wearing it, in fact he adored when you wore his clothes. They were a bit oversized on you and made you look so adorable. But something about you wearing this specific shirt did things to him.
Your eyes suddenly align with his, your lips turning up into a wide smile. He reciprocates the action and turns the stove off—his eggs were done anyway. You stand up straight and approach him, wrapping your arms around his bare figure, the only thing on him being his boxers. Your face is flush against his back, lips pressing soft kisses along his spine and shoulders.
“G’mornin sweet girl.” He hums, taking one of your arms and bringing it up to his own lips. He interlocks your fingers with his and places a kiss atop your knuckles. He keeps a hold on your hand while he plates the eggs on your plates.
“Mornin’ bubs.” You smile against his skin, hugging him tighter. Tom chuckles at your hold, he adored it when you were all cuddly so early in the morning. He lifts your hand in the air, twirling you in the process, and pulling you into his chest. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the curls that brushed against it.
“You’re up early. I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed and be a really cute boyfriend.” He hums, stroking your back. His eyes drift down your body, admiring the way his pink shirt looks on you. The words “A VERY GOOD START” printed onto the shirt rested along your left breast. It definitely was a very good start to his day—seeing you in his clothes made him weak and a full on simp for you.
“You don’t need to do anything to be a cute boyfriend, you already are bubs.” You scrunch your nose at him and peck his lips. He leans into the kiss, following your lips as they pull away from his. “And I woke up alone and was wondering where you went, that’s why I’m up early.”
“I was hungry as soon as I woke up so I made us some breakfast.” He explains. His hands drift down your figure, fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your legs. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, while his hands grasps onto your bum. A boyish grin forms on his lips as he cheekily squeezes your bum cheeks, “You don’t have to worry about being alone anymore because you found me.”
You playfully roll your eyes at him, “I’m starting to regret finding you, you horny little shit.” You tease him. It was normal for the both of you to poke fun at each other, it was your love language.
Tom licks his lips, eyes scanning your body again. The shirt was big on you, your nipples pebbled against the material, and his scent was radiating off of you. It might have been a shirt but it was his shirt with his scent on it, and it turned on his possessive side.
“But you look so fucking adorable and hot in my shirt.” He pouted, setting you on the counter and letting his fingers sneak under his shirt to touch your skin. “I just want to take you on this counter and lay you down, eat your sweet pussy out, and hear your pretty little moans.” He teasingly trails kisses along your jaw and neck. His fingers grab onto your hips, thumbs digging desperately into your skin.
Your tilt his chin up so that he’s staring up at you. Lust consumes his toffee brown eyes, turning them darker compared to their usual bright tint.
“You know what else you can take on this counter?” You ask him, a smidge of seduction in your tone. Completely enamored by you, Tom just lets out a little hum in response. You lean in closer to his ear, making sure to brush your lips against it.
“The breakfast you just cooked for us. We should eat before it gets cold.” You whisper, your breath fanning against his neck. You feel him shudder against you as goosebumps appear on his neck. He throws his head back, groaning at you.
“You little shit, you’re such a tease.” He grumpily says, pushing himself off the counter away from you. He grabs the plates he prepared for you both and sets them on the table. You laugh, hopping off the counter. You didn’t miss him adjusting himself in his boxers as he awkwardly sat on a stool. You settle beside him and pressed a kiss on his temple. He huffs cutting into his pancake.
“Tommy.” You whine, ducking to reach his lips. He was pouting and moved away from you.
“No, you’re mean.” He grumbles. “But you worked so hard to cook breakfast, I wouldn’t want it to all go cold.”
“That’s what a microwave is for.” He retorts.
“It’s better fresh.” You stab a fork into your eggs and eat it. He remains silent, chewing on his food. You began to feel bad and place your chin on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry for being a tease.” You apologize, watching him for a reaction. You continue, “I’ll let you do whatever you want later.” That catches his attention.
“When’s later?”
You shrug, “After I digest?”
“How long does it take to digest?” He questions you.
“I don’t know, thirty minutes?” You guess. He tries to stop the small smile on his lips from forming, but fails to. He nods nudging his nose against yours, “Sounds good to me.”
The day passes with ‘discreet’ teasing and ogling from Tom. The both of you couldn’t exactly do anything later because things happened during the day. First, Tom had to log onto zoom to attend a meeting for a new film. Then, you got occupied doing some last minute work for college. While you were consumed with your assignments, Tom’s eyes would drift to where you were. You were sat on the couch, legs on the cushions, as you typed away on your laptop. You wore the shirt all day, even when you turned into the bedroom to take a short nap.
The moment his meeting ended, Tom went straight to your shared bedroom. To his content, you were already awake, scrolling through your phone. The position you were in made him inwardly groan. You were on your stomach with your plump ass sticking up in the air.
“Baby.” He called as he entered the room. Tom carefully clamored over you, straddling you from behind. He ducked his head to kiss the back of your neck, his lips instantly latching onto the spot that he knew riled you up. “Baby, it’s later.” He mumbled against your neck.
“I know, was waiting for you to finish with your meeting.” You reply, turning to meet his lips. He smiles into the kiss, deepening it as he helped you lay on your back. He blindly takes your phone from your hand and puts it to the side, his fingers resuming to play with the material of his shirt. One of your hands cup his face while the other moved to thread through his curls. You pull on the strands, emitting a deep moan from Tom. He let out a sigh of relief when he was able to ground his hardening cock against your clothed core.
“Fuck—was thinking about this all day.” He choked as he bucked his hips against yours. The friction coming from between you two and the sight of you underneath him in his clothes sent waves of arousal straight to his dick.
“Well now you don’t need to think anymore, just do me.” You quickly reply in between his kisses. You weren’t even sure what came out your mouth because all you can feel was yourself being consumed by Tom.
One of his hands dip down to slip past your shorts; what Tom felt made him moan. Under your shorts—technically his boxers—was nothing but your wet cunt. Tom felt himself get harder at the thought of you wearing nothing under his boxers the entire day.
“And you don’t have any fucking panties on.” Tom bit down on your bottom lip, pulling on it a bit with his teeth, before letting it go. “You’ve been a naughty girl all day. Teasing me with the shirt, then at the kitchen this morning, and now I found out that you haven’t been wearing anything under my boxers today.”
“What are you gonna do, Tommy? Punish me?” You taunt him, your hands being pinned to the mattress by one of his own.
“You see I would, but I’m feeling generous today. You look so good in my clothes and now I wanna mark you up even more by being inside you.” He casually shared as his fingers between your legs spread your wetness on your cunt. His thumb expertly yet blindly brushes your clit, making you gasp.
Tom continues his causal conversation with you, “You’d like that won’t you? Marking you up and showing everyone that you’re mine?” Your mouth only gaps in pleasure, your body content with the way his fingers flicked between your folds. All while this is happening, his eyes remain on you. He watched as your eyes threatened to roll back, the way your mouth opened and closed, and how your brows would furrow in pleasure.
Tom tuts, moving so that you’re directly looking at you, “I need words, darling.” A breath releases shakily past your lips, “Yeah.”
“Yeah what?” Tom tilts his head at you, still flicking his fingers below you, one of his fingers teasing your entrance.
“I—I want you to—oh—mark me up.” You stutter out. Tom uses that as confirmation to shove his finger into your hole. You gasp, legs jolting to close, though Tom’s torso avoids them to do so.
Tom cheekily chuckles. “Oh, I know you do.” He responds, mocking you on your little slip up. With how wet you were getting, it wasn’t difficult for him to shove in a second finger. While his fingers pushed in and out of you, his thumb made rough circles on your clit, the perfect move to drive you towards the edge.
“Such a good girl for me.” He hums, craning his head so that he can suck hickies onto your neck. His lips attached to your skin, sucking harshly while his teeth and tongue alternated to bite and smooth the spot. When he felt one side was bruised enough, he moved to the other side of your neck, repeating his motions.
“So responsive, you’re still getting wet.” He whispered. Your toes curled and whimpers escaped your mouth at how good he was making you feel. When Tom felt your walls clenching down on his fingers, he disconnected himself from your neck, admiring the patches of hickies that littered your neck and collarbone.
“All mine.” He muttered. “You gonna cum? I can feel you squeezing down on me, baby. Come on, cum on my fingers.” He nudged your nose with his, quickening his pace. You felt the tension in you building up. When the tension relaxed, you came undone. Squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back, giving Tom a view of your bruised neck. He dove right back in, sucking on the part of your throat that vibrated as you released a moan.
When he felt your breathing fall back to pace, he stared at you.
“You alright?” He asked, a hand of his coming up to affectionately move strands of hair that stuck onto your face. The lust in his eyes momentarily disappeared being replaced with concern. You nodded letting out an “mhm”.
And just like that the lust returned to his eyes. He pecked your lips and wiggled his way down towards your soaked heat.
“Good ‘cause we’re just starting.” He grinned. His eyes connected with the grey Calvin Klein boxers you wore. The patch between your legs was far more darker compared to the rest of the article of clothing.
“That’s sexy.” He comments. “Your cum soaking my boxers, God.” Tom shows the slightest bit of roughness by shoving your thighs apart to make way for his head. When he was centimeters away from your cunt, his eyes shift to look up at you, that boyish grin gracing his angelic face. Though right now he was far from angelic, he was like a sin between your legs. A sin you would do over and over again.
He chuckles to himself and kisses your pussy through the boxers. You knew this was payback for you teasing him earlier in the day. You found your hips lifting from the mattress, wanting to get more contact from Tom. His response was to only slam your hips back down, keeping his hands there to pin them to the bed.
Your legs widen, allowing all of him to be flush against you. Biting down on your lip, your hands reach down to the top of Tom’s head to grasp onto his hair.
“Tom.” You whine. Tom releases a low moan, rutting his crotch against the mattress to relieve his own arousal.
“I know, I know.” His tongue swipes his lips, tasting a hint of you on them. He takes his boxers off you and tosses them to the floor. His eyes hungrily connect with your core.
The heat forming between you and Tom was overwhelming you, causing you to sweat. You move to take off your (Tom’s) shirt but it’s suddenly yanked back down. You look at Tom in shock to see his eyes on you, “Keep the fucking shirt on.” You comply, leaving the shirt alone.
Tom turns his attention back to your slit and how it glistened with your wetness. Before he can do anything, he pulls his shirt off, and throws it over his shoulder. Without any warning, he dives into your heat. You let out a high pitched moan, your thighs clenching, and your eyes rolling back.
“Shit, Tom.” You moan as his mouth suctions itself onto your center. It was wet and sloppy, all you felt was his mouth and tongue attacking your pussy. He moans in content at the sounds you made for him, the vibrations of his moan buzzed against your clit. You whine while your hands grasp onto his curls to bring him closer to you.
“Taste so good for me. You’re such a good girl for me, (y/n).” He praises you, sloppily kissing your heat. His fingers split your folds apart, a string of your arousal forming between the space. Tom flicks his tongue, teasing your hole.
“Can you give me another one, love?” He questions you, the pad of his thumb making rough circles on your clit.
“Y—yeah.” You stammered, features contorting in pleasure.
“Yeah? I know you can, baby.” He replaces his thumb with his mouth and began to suck on your clit. His fingers were back inside you, pumping in and out repeatedly. The combination of his mouth and rough fingers caused white flashes to appear in your vision. You felt like you were blanking out, drunk on the euphoric pleasure Tom was giving you. He knew every little thing that riled you up and took you apart—he was like a pro when it came to making you feel good.
“God, Tom I’m close.” You clamp down on his fingers, your legs wrapping around his waist. Tom picks up the pace of his tongue, adding a hint of his teeth to graze at your sensitive bud.
“C’mon darling, cum all over my face, give me another one.” His words vibrate against your clit again. With the help of his tongue and fingers, your back was arching off the mattress, a loud cry tumbling off your lips. Your legs tightened around him as you came all over him. Gasping, you pried him off your core, the sensations of your orgasm making you far too sensitive. Your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath after the blissful moment.
“That’s my girl.” He mumbles, easing away from your center with your cum dripping down his chin. A proud grin is on his lips. You stare at him through half shut eyes, “Don’t get cocky on me.”
Tom licks his lips and uses the back of his hand to wipe your cum from his face.
“I didn’t say anything, lovey.” He innocently retorts, allowing you to come down from your high. Tom lifts your shirt to press kisses along your hipbones and stomach.
“You had that stupid look, you cocky shit.” You knew he was proud at the fact that he was the reason to why you were so blissed out. You may have had flushed cheeks, hair sticking to your face, and sweating—but he thought you looked absolutely stunning beneath him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hums nonchalantly, pushing your shirt to rest above your breasts. He momentarily stares at your erected nipples, almost boyishly. That glint of playfulness shining in his eyes.
“Come to daddy.” He says before ducking to suck on one of your nipples. You scrunch your face at him prying him off you. Tom objects, shooting you a look.
“You did not just fucking say that.”
“I did, now let me suck on them titties.” He snickers, can’t taking himself serious. You burst out laughing, “You’re killing the mood.”
He shakes his head, bouncing a bit, “Fine, sorry, sorry.” He pecks your lips and goes back to flicking his tongue on each of your nipples. You feel his hard on bumping against you, making your cunt squeeze down on thin air.
“Tom, you’re so hard.” Your hand rubs him through his boxers, helping him relieve himself of some tension. The action only causes Tom to jut his hips onto your hand.
“Thank you, baby.” He groans, pressing his forehead in between your breasts. You continue to rub him, finding the head of his cock and running your thumb past his tip. He suddenly snatches your hand from him, startling you.
He kisses your wrist, “Nothing, sorry. I just won’t last long if you keep doing that. I need to be in you.” You nod, spreading your legs wider for him to get comfortable. Tom shimmies out his boxers, pulling out his length. It was quite long, with the veins almost popping out, and his tip red hot. Tom hissed when the air met his hard on.
You took some of your slick, gathering it on your hand, and used it as lube for Tom’s dick. He lines himself with your entrance and looks at you.
“You’re on the pill right?”
“Yup, I am.” You confirm, squeezing his bicep. Tom nods, interlocking one of your hands with his. The both of you sigh in relief once he enters you. The veins of his cock brush against your walls, his length completely filling you up.
“So fucking tight.” Tom breathes out, stilling so you can get used to him. You kiss his jaw, giving him the ‘ok’ to move. He pulls out then snaps his hips back into yours, knocking the breath right out of you.
He grabs one of your hands and rests his forehead against yours as his thrusts begin to grow harder and faster. “Yeah—won’t last long.”
“It’s ok, keep going Tommy.” You coax him, your free hand scratching at his back, spurring him on. Tom stills, leaning back to rest on his haunches. His hands grab onto your ankles, pushing your legs back until your knees touch your stomach.
“Keep these open for me, yeah?” He realigns himself with your entrance again. This time when he enters, he reaches deeper into you, hitting that spot that pushes you closer to becoming wrecked. Your moans are now bouncing off the walls; if Harry were home, the poor boy would have been mortified.
Tom smirks down at you, “That feels good doesn’t it, lovey?” As he says this his hand gently cradles your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
“You make me feel so good, Tommy.” You whimper, turning your head to kiss his palm. “Only you.”
Tom’s thumb glides past your lip before slipping it into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digit, getting it wet. He takes his thumb from your mouth and brings it back to your clit. His touch makes you jolt, your sensitive bud already overstimulated from your previous orgasms.
“I’m close, baby.” He warns you, his thrusts becoming erratic. His hips were moving sloppily, but he was still hitting your spot. You decide to help him out and replace his hand with yours on your clit.
“I fucking love you, fuck.” You groan. Tom connects his lips with yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible. With both his hands free, he angled his hips a certain way and began to rail into you, fucking you into the mattress.
“Baby, I’m cumming.” He whimpers against your lips. “Me too, Tommy. Cum in me.” You urge him, trailing wet kisses along the side of his face. The both of you come undone at the same time, entangled with each other’s limbs. Strings of white releases from Tom and coats your walls while mixing with your release. Tom’s face is nuzzled into your neck, while yours rests above his curls. He leans his weight onto you, your chests heaving and bodies twitching from the aftershocks.
Tom was the first to move, coming out from the crevice of your neck. He kisses you multiple times with whispers of “I love you’s”.
“I think you look really good in my clothes.” He whispers, the softest smile forming on his features, his eyes gazing at you.
You snort, motioning to the sticky mess between the two of you, “Really? I didn’t notice.” The two of your burst out laughing, stuck in your cozy little bubble.
The moment was interrupted by heavy knocking coming from the door, “WILL ONE OF YOU PLEASE TAKE ME TO CHURCH? MY EARS HAVE BEEN SINNED UPON.”
Tom groaned, “HARRY FUCK OFF!”
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blindingdutchy · 11 days ago
golf groupie | t.holland
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{frat!golf!tom x sorority!reader}
summary: the last thing tom holland needs is to have his massive ego stroked, but when you lose a bet and are forced to play the role of his biggest fan... maybe his cockiness isn't always so bad.
word count: 10,483
warnings: smut! enemies to fuckers. like the tiniest bit of angst/fluff if you squint? alcohol, vague descriptions of golf because i'm bad at it, tom and y/n being insufferable. language. explicit warnings below divide.
18+!!! minors stay away!
here it is, a whole day late because i'm fucking garbage!
warnings: oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks. don't be like these two). cocky!tom! praise kink (m receiving).
The atmosphere in the party is thick, palpable even. The air, clouded with smoke and haze from who knows how many substances, no longer feels exciting and electric—it feels suffocating. Discreetly, or as inconspicuously as possible in your drunken state, you wipe the back of your hand across your brow to clear the sweat that has collected there.
“Sometime today would be nice, (Y/N).”
Your brows furrow in frustration, a haughty glare marring the features of your face as you tear your gaze away from the table to face Tom. Tom Holland, also known as the president of the Alpha Psi Omega fraternity chapter at your university, and also known as the bane of your existence. His smirk is equally as heated as your scowl, and you can see it in the way his brown eyes twinkle that he has you exactly where he wants you… sweaty, stressed, and frustrated.
It’s hard to say just how the rivalry between the two of you began, and even harder for you to pinpoint when exactly the ever present feelings of resentment you harbored for the man first blossomed. Some part of you feels as though you’ve always hated him, but the fiery heat that always blossoms in every part of your body in his present isn’t like any distaste you’ve ever felt before. It’s complicated, confusing, and nothing like the way you hated Maggie Harper back in your home town. She’s the only other person you’ve known, without a doubt, that you hated.
Perhaps the tension between you and Tom is due to your mutual competitiveness. As much as it pains you to acknowledge, and as much as everyone else loves to point out, Tom and yourself are like two sides of the same coin. You both strive to be the life of the party, the center of attention, and Tom would do anything to outshine you in any way that he can. You’d do much the same, though.
Your earliest memory of the rivalry between the two of you takes you back to your freshman year, three—nearly four—years prior. You had been auditioning for the spring theater production, in which Tom had already scored the starring role. It had been quite the accomplishment for a freshman, and that same man had singlehandedly crushed your own dreams that day. Oh, how naïve you’d been, so bright eyed and ready to take on the world.
It had come down to just you and one other woman, a senior who’d starred as the leading role in each production for the past two years. Despite the strong chance that you’d be beat out, you were prepared. For weeks you had practiced relentlessly, perfecting your monologues and lines down to the last breath. When it came time to do the final audition—a reading opposite Tom—you swallowed down your nerves and gave the performance of your life.
Penelope, your competition for the part, had delivered a compelling read herself. Even you had found yourself holding back tears at her beautiful performance, but you felt it in your bones that the role was yours. The other cast and the theater director herself had been openly weeping following your performance, and you truly felt as if the chemistry between yourself and Tom was undeniable.
But, then the impossible happened. Penelope had snagged the role, and it wasn’t until later that you found out why. A friend of yours had been given one of the minor roles and had been present for the decision making process. That was how you learned that Tom had been the deciding factor, astonishing the director when he’d chosen Penelope without a moment’s hesitation. You had pretended it didn’t hurt when you’d spotted them hanging all over each other for weeks after that, but it did. He’d chosen her for his own personal motives.
A ping pong ball assaulting your forehead is what finally brings you back to the present, and your hand flings to your face as you gasp in surprise. “Tom, what the fuck?” you hiss, but he only laughs.
“Are you gonna make the shot or not, sweetheart?” he taunts, and you ignore the way the pet name makes you shiver in favor of the way his smirk makes your blood boil, “Scared? Afraid to lose in front of everyone?”
Two red cups remain standing on the long table. One close to Tom’s end, one of the few from the back row that had been alluding you throughout the entire game, and one more on your end. The ball you’ve been holding for the past few minutes is damp and slippery, and you’re not sure if it’s from being repeatedly dunked in beer or if it’s because your hands are sweaty with anxiety. A crowd surrounds you, an amalgamation of Tom’s frat brothers and your own sorority sisters, and for once all eyes being on you doesn’t fill you with pride.
Scoffing, you square your shoulders and widen your stance as you snarl, “You wish, Holland.” His smirk only widens, brown eyes following your every move with an amount of intensity that only causes the sweat on your brown to worsen.
If you miss, then Tom has the opportunity to win it all. You’d been leading by a lone cup nearly the entire game, courtesy of a busty party-girl distracting him during one of his earlier shots, and now the two of you are on equal ground. He’d managed to sink two cups on his last throw—the ball bouncing the beer in one cup to another before you could catch it—and no longer are you feeling quite so confident in yourself.
With a deep breath and an annoying ringing in your ear, you pull your hand back and squint your eyes at his cup. The nearly weightless white ball glides through the air and hits the rim of his cup, your heart stalling in your chest, but he catches it from its spin around the rim before it can hit the beer beneath. Fuck, your stomach twists as you meet his arrogant gaze once more.
“Are you ready to see me win?” he goads once more, and all at once the rage in your belly seems to take over.
Normally, you’d know better than to challenge Tom Holland. The man only ever seems to strengthen in the face of adversity, stepping up to any challenge that comes his way with a level of certainty that makes you nauseous, but the spite on your tongue is impossible to hold back. “Wanna bet?” you snipe, and he puffs his chest with raised brows, “If you miss, then you have to let me shave your head at the sorority raffle next month.”
For a moment, a fraction of a second so fast that you nearly miss it, his smirk morphs into a grimace and his eyes flash with fear. But, Tom is quick to correct himself as the crowd around you both ooh’s and aah’s with excitement. “Fine,” he shrugs, licking his lips with a chuckle that warns you of bad things to come, “but, when I win, you have to come to the state championship next week as my biggest fan.”
“Fine.” you shrug, though internally bile is creeping up your throat at the very idea.
Tom grins, “Fine.”
And then, like something out of a movie, he cocks his arm and throws blindly. The ball sinks into your cup instantly, not even touching the rim, and for a moment you think your knees have given out with the way the floor rocks beneath you. You’re still standing, though, and the floor is creaking wildly under the ravenous crowd jumping on Tom who stares you down as if you’re the only person in the world. You can’t even hear the raucous cheering, that ringing filling your ears until it sounds like white noise, and you can’t look away. Even as the cup is held to your lips and beer is forced down your throat like a fucked up water board, you remain trapped in Tom’s stare.
What have you done?
There’s not much in the way of entertainment that brings you quite as much joy as getting under Tom Holland’s skin. In the few years that you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize more than just a few things. Firstly, despite his uncanny ability to rise to any challenge and come out on top, Tom’s temper is about as short as they come. Secondly, nobody else seems to be as apt to getting him all hot and bothered as you are.
And, thirdly? Well, thirdly, you get a peculiar amount of joy from watching him squirm. One simple push of his buttons from you, and suddenly Tom is a whole other man—gone is the devilish charm and quick wit, so quickly replaced with fiery scowls and rumbling growls. He’s enticing in that way, exciting even.
Maybe you’re just sadistic, or perhaps just a bit unhinged to relish in his unraveling like you do, but who’s to say? You know, better than anyone, that Tom gets that same sick satisfaction from you. It’s the world’s weirdest game of cat and mouse. Hell, the two of you could probably give Tom the cat and Jerry the mouse a run for their money with your reckless antics.
For example, right now Tom’s jaw is so tense you’re almost convinced you can hear the faintly audible crackle and grind of his teeth over the distant chatter of his fellow golfers. His eyes are dark, so dark you can barely discern the familiar amber twinkle of his molten irises anymore, and they laser focused on you. Or, well, on your outfit.
As much as you love the thrill of having all eyes on you, you have to admit that in this moment… you’re more than satisfied with the intense beam of Tom’s eyes alone. Patiently you wait for him to approach, his steps harsh and calculated stomps against the asphalt of the parking lot, and your smirk only widens at the sight of his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Oh, he’s pissed, and you are loving it.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he seethes, accent thickening in his fit of rage, and it only makes you all the happier.
Feigning innocence, you blink at him and flick the hem of your skirt playfully as you say, “What, you don’t like it, Tommy?”
Button Number One: Tom absolutely despises it when you call him Tommy. His jaw ticks, his eyes flash, and your belly twists into gleeful knots at the sight of it. He almost makes it too easy, really, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
In the distance you can make out the all too pleased faces of his teammates and straggling fraternity brothers. A small group of them remains outside the bus, their eyes trained on the pair of you with amused smirks and raucous laughter. They’re whispering—but you have a pretty good idea as to what they’re talking about.
You wonder briefly if Tom knows his eye is twitching, but his voice is far from a tremor as he demands, “Where’s the stuff I gave you? You lost the bet, (Y/N), and you were supposed to—“
“Oh, calm down, Tom,” you sigh, and bite back a laugh at the way he pinches his nose in utter frustration, “I just made a few… improvements.”
It’s true. You had made a few improvements to the cheap outfit and poster that Tom had given you the night prior, when he’d shown up unannounced to your sorority house un the middle of the night. Just when you’d been about ready to admit defeat, consumed with anxiety and embarrassment over the day that lay ahead of you… Tom had pushed just the right button to get you fired up again.
The door to your room burst open unexpectedly, and you’d barely had time to snap your robe shut before Tom came stalking into the tiny bedroom with a devilish grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. If anything, the glimmer had only intensified at the startled gasp you’d let out and the way you clutched your satin robe even tighter to your nude body in astonishment.
In his hands, he carried a plastic sack that rustled loudly and a gruesomely tragic attempt at a poster, two of the corners bent and creased from a lack of care over the flimsy board. You glared at him, snapping, “What are you doing in my room?”
“Right, we have a few things to go over, sweetheart.” Was all he said, that usual cheeky smirk splitting his cheeks as he made himself at home in your room. All you could do was groan as he plopped his still shoe clad feet onto your bed as he flopped onto the mattress, before he continued, “I’ve taken the creative liberty with your shirt, since you so nicely informed me you didn’t give a fuck about it.”
Indignantly, you tried to protest, “I did not say—“
“You said, and I’m quoting here, darling, I don’t give a fuck about the goddamn shirt, Tom! Leave me alone!” Tom pitched his voice higher in an attempt to mock you, the action causing your face to heat up and your lips to curl in a snarl. Nevertheless, he goaded, “Sound familiar? Anyhow, I come bearing gifts.”
It was ridiculous how easily he caused your blood to boil, how easily he made your skin crawl, how easily he made your heart race—wait, scratch that last one. It was just the rage and adrenaline causing heart palpitations, surely. You wondered, sometimes, if he felt all of the weird little things you felt when the two of you went head to head like this. Did he feel as if he were at the peak of a mountain, struggling to breathe and jittery with anticipation of the unknown?
Surely, not. Tom Holland probably felt only resolute hatred for you, if his actions told you anything at all. Though, you did wonder if any other person made his cheeks go red like you seemed to. Did anyone else seem to fluster him so easily?
Tom cleared his throat, bringing you out of your silent reverie as you were presented with the shirt in question. It was small—at least two sizes smaller than what you’d told him. It wasn’t the size that made you bare your teeth in a spiteful hiss, though. No, it was the god awful photograph of himself emblazoned boldly across it. Was that… was that a headshot?
Taking your grimace of disgust in stride, the man grinned and dumped the cheap article onto your floor before rifling through the plastic sack once more to retrieve a skirt. “Can’t forget the golf skirt, of course,” he hummed, looking far too pleased with himself as you groaned at the sight, “I took a guess on the size.”
If the shirt was anything to go off of, you were almost certain it wouldn’t fit. “You’re a little too happy about all of this, Tommy.” You grumbled. At least there was a brief respite of satisfaction for you in seeing the familiar way his eye twitched at the name.
You really weren’t all that sure as to why it bothered him so much, but you didn’t really care either. Nothing was off limits when it came to the two of you. Well, maybe except true public humiliation; the two of you may have gotten a kick out of riling each other up before a crowd, but there were some things that might have gone too far. You hadn’t figured them out, yet, but surely you would eventually.
“Just pleased to see you finally admitting the truth, sweetheart.” Tom cooed.
The truth? Did he mean… “Oh, come off it, Tom.” You scoffed, but he only beamed back at you cheekily, “You wish!”
His eye dropped in a lazy wink, “It’s okay to be honest with yourself, (Y/N). I can’t blame you for falling in love with me—“
“Oh, just get to the point, Tom!” you snapped, ignoring his laughter at the way your temper flared, “Finish your little show so I can go to bed.”
If you had thought that the shirt was bad, it was nothing compared to the sign. Tom showed it off to you as if it were a masterpiece, but you could only compare it to the likes of a six year old’s arts and crafts project. Big block letters spelled out, Go Tom! And somehow, someway, he’d managed to run out of space for the five letters. It was embarrassing, really, how terrible it was.
Tom showed it off to you as if it were a masterpiece, but you could only compare it to the likes of a six year old’s arts and crafts project. Big block letters spelled out, Go Tom! And somehow, someway, he’d managed to run out of space for the five letters. It was embarrassing, really, how terrible it was.
You could deal with the stupid shirt. You could deal with the ugly golf skirt. But that sign? Hell no. There was no way you would be caught dead holding that sign—it brought you discomfort to even keep it in your presence.
Which, was why you’d torn it to shreds the moment Tom had finally dragged himself out of your private space. After a lot of screaming, and a bit of crying, you sat amidst the shreds of the poster and dreaded the day to come. You were meant to follow the university bus to the golf course bright and early the next morning, and for a moment you truly considered just not showing up.
What would he have done? Come and retrieved you from the sorority house? Dragged you to the course kicking and screaming? No, no, Tom wouldn’t have done that. But, you knew that if you didn’t show it would give him all the ammunition he needed to torment you for the foreseeable future. Not showing up would show that he’d finally, truly beat you, and you wouldn’t stand for that.
No, you couldn’t let him beat you again, let him see that he’d truly won and pushed you past your limit. If you wanted to come away from that day with your pride intact, then you would have to show Tom that you could beat him at his own game. And, what better way to do that, than to make him squirm by doing exactly what he’d asked of you?
If Tom Holland wanted a super-fan, then a super-fan he would get.
“You call those improvements?” Tom scoffed, and you shrugged, “I spent money on that shirt, (Y/N), where the hell is it?”
Gone is the t-shirt with the awful photograph of his face. In truth, it never would have seen the light of day even if you had liked it—the fabric was too thin and the fit too tight on your body to be worn in public. Plus, your breasts had stretched his face beyond recognition… on second thought, perhaps that would have been fairly amusing.
Instead, you’re wearing a simple shirt you’d made with the words Go Tommy! Expertly written in perfect sizing across the front. You’d been sure to measure for accuracy. The golf skirt miraculously fits well, and so you at least can say that you’d followed one bit of his instructions. And the sign? Well, you’d taken your own creative liberties (and your sorority sister’s scrapbooking supplies).
A bigger, brighter, better neon poster board is crisply rolled in your hand to be revealed only once you arrive at the golf course. You’d spent far longer than you’d like to admit printing photos from his social media, and a few from your own, to be cut apart and pasted on the board. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he would see the way you’d pasted photos of yourself next to him.
Pouting teasingly, you whine, “It was too small, Tommy. Stretched your face all out and made you look even uglier.”
Button Number Two: insulting his appearance always gets him going. Tom’s cheeks redden and his hands shake as he raises them to his face, pulling at his hair as If he is attempting to keep himself from truly losing his cool. Oh, he really makes it all worth it with his reactions.
The bus honks, and one of his teammates calls out for him to hurry up, and the moment is over. He gives you one last bitter glare over his shoulder as he snarls, “Stick to the deal, (Y/N), or else. You lost the bet, so deal with it.”
“Oh, I’ll deal with it, alright,” you smirk, “don’t you worry, Tommy. I’ll be the best super-fan in the world.”
Golf is, without a doubt, the most boring sport on the face of the planet. Despite the forced, nearly crazed smile that splits your cheeks and the proud way you tote around the neon-pink poster in your hands, you can barely focus on anything anymore. Your feet hurt from walking the course, your back aches from straining to be sure you’re never out of Tom’s line of sight, and your throat is going raw from the manic cheers you hoot whenever the crowd applauds for Tom.
If the embarrassment on Tom’s face hadn’t been so amusing to see, you would have been far more embarrassed for yourself. It takes everything in you not to cower away from the shameful glares of the unsuspecting victims around you, most of them none the wiser of just why you’re acting the way you are. But, Tom’s cheeks are permanently painted pink, and if the way he chews on his lips tells you anything, he’s positively sweating.
But the thing that really throws you for a loop and leaves you feeling breathless? You can’t seem to drag your eyes away from the man, and not because your little scheme is very clearly working. For once—okay, for once that you’re unable to deny—you’re not watching Tom purely out of malice. Not entirely, anyways.
No, your eyes are practically glued to his form. The obviously toned planes of his body under his ridiculously tight polo and grey pants. Has his ass always been so… defined? Have his arms always looked so strong, so perfect to wrap you up and—
Biting hard on your tongue, you inhale sharply as you realize exactly what is so different about the way Tom makes you feel in comparison to how Maggie Harper did. With Maggie, the disgust and hatred had been clear and blatant in your mind. Sharp, unyielding, unforgiving. But, with Tom? It’s always been a muddied mess of butterflies and hornets in your guts.
Oh, fuck, you think Tom is hot!
You think Tom is hot, and you can’t deny that if there’s anything interesting at all about golf, it’s him. It’s obvious why he’s made it to the state championship, and why the whole school has been buzzing about his practically guaranteed win. He’s good—good enough that even you can tell, and a weird bubble of pride swells in your chest.
He’s hot, he’s definitely going to win, and maybe being his super fan isn’t the most embarrassing thing. After all, you could have come as the loser’s super fan… What the hell is going on with you?
Tom’s eyes meet yours as the crowd claps for him once more, respectfully, and yet you’re silent. All day he’d been avoiding your gaze, but now that you’re quiet? He can tell that something is bothering you, and that little smirk slowly starts to stretch across his perfect, pink—his stupid lips again!
His eyes are twinkling with a certain kind of fire you’ve never seen in them before, and it makes your heart race. Your palms are sweaty, your skin on fire, and your lungs burning. A war is waging in your body at the sight. Does he know? He winks, and you know that he definitely knows.
The rest of the tournament is a blur. Hole after hole, applause after applause, your mind is swimming in the clouds. You’re here, but you’re a million miles away as you struggle to make sense of all of the conflicting thoughts and feelings within you. One thing you’re certain of, is that you definitely don’t like Tom. You think he’s insufferable, and a petty part of you will never forgive him for the Penelope incident, but you also can’t help the way your mouth waters at the obscene ripple of muscle in his biceps each time he swings his club. You can’t help the way your eyes gravitate toward the cling of his polo to his torso, or the strain of his pants around his thighs. You’d be lying if you said you never thought of it before.
It’s pretty undeniable that Tom is attractive, objectively, but never before has it at the forefront of your mind. Maybe that’s what amuses you the most at how sensitive he seems to be when it comes to you insulting his appearance, because you know damn well that Tom Holland knows he is attractive. Or, maybe he just hates the fact that you seem to be the only woman on campus who doesn’t fawn over him.
But, now? Now there’s no denying that you are completely enraptured with his appearance, bordering on drooling over him, and he’s eating it up like a starved man. Your cheers have silenced in favor of clapping, much to the relief of the rest of the audience, and your eyes are constantly meeting his each and every time he looks over at you.
The arrogant quirk of his lips makes your blood boil in more ways than one. It makes you melt like a hormonal teenager, but it also flares that indignant fury within the pit of your belly. You hate him so, so, so much, and you hate the stupid way you want to put your hands on him in a completely non-violent way even more.
You hate the way you aren’t faking it when you cheer over his championship. You hate the way your shouts aren’t forced or teasing, but earnest and full of pride as you applaud him. You hate the way he grins at you and for once doesn’t have a hidden message behind those brown eyes. And, you really, really hate the way you hug him in front of everyone and like the way it feels.
“Wait for me outside the changing rooms.” He whispers for only you to hear, and you really fucking hate the shiver that racks down your body at the way his lips brush the shell of your ear. You especially hate the way you do exactly as he asks, and you don’t hate doing it one bit.
Waiting for Tom is exactly what you need to get yourself in check. In fact, the longer you wait, the more you feel your annoyance toward the man seep back through your veins—or, maybe that’s just because you’ve been sitting on the concrete for so long your butt has long gone numb. The crowd has dwindled down to practically nothing, and you’re starting to wonder if maybe this was Tom’s plan all along.
How long would you wait for him? How long would you sit, all alone, before you realized that he wasn’t coming and had probably snuck out some back door to laugh his way back to campus on the bus? A hot flare of anger bubbles through you at the thought, and you get up with a bitter scoff that makes your throat ache.
You should have seen it coming. All over again you’re reminded of that day three years in the past, reminded of the shame and embarrassment you had felt because of Tom fucking Holland. The punishment was never about you making a fool of yourself in front of the crowd—like always, Tom’s found yet another way to remind you that you’re a complete sucker for him and he knows it.
Swiping some imaginary dirt from your skirt, you angrily crumple the poster that you’d discarded onto the ground beside you and stuff it into a nearby trash can. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Tom may be an asshole, but at least he isn’t an idiot like you are—
“What did that poster ever do to you?”
Yelping at the sudden sound of Tom’s voice, you snap away from the garbage can you’d been fighting with as if it had electrocuted you. And, there he is, in all his glory. He’s still wearing the polo and pants, and he’s standing just inside the doorway to the changing rooms, and you’re wondering what the hell he’s been doing for the past hour and a half to keep you waiting.
Tom’s eyes are crinkled at the corners as he grins in amusement, appraising the half-hearted way your poster hangs over the top of the trash can, and your tongue is sharp as you hiss, “You sure took your sweet time. Congratulations, idiot, you missed the bus!”
His nostrils flare and he narrows his eyes at you, quirking that ridiculous messy brow of his as he snaps back, “I know, I asked you to wait because I was going to ride back to campus with you, sweetheart.”
There’s a lilt in his tone as he sneers the pet name that’s been coined yours and yours alone, and it only grates at you all the more in this moment. Why does he call you that? Why does he insist on calling you sweet names when his intentions are anything but? You hate him, and you hate that you secretly love the way the name sounds each time it slides off his tongue.
“And what if I don’t want you to, Tommy?” you taunt, hands on your hips and posture wide in defiance, “What if I just leave you here? I’ve already fulfilled my end of the deal, I’ve done my punishment—“
Button Number Three: Tom absolutely hates it when you deny him, and just like that, you watch as his temper begins to come unglued. “You’re a bloody insufferable little witch, you know that?” he grits out, jaw working overtime as he steps up to you, “Just when I thought you were finally going to drop this pathetic little act of yours, you just have to go and remind me that you’ll never change! You’re always going to be a—“
Your hands jump to life before your mind does, and he grunts as you shove him childishly. It’s a weak push, one that barely causes him to stumble, but it’s more than enough to show him that he’s got you exactly where he wants you. His mouth snaps shut and his eyes are trained heatedly onto you as you clench your fists and lock your knees indignantly. “I’m always going to be a what, Tom? A bitch?” There’s no playful fight in your tone this time; you’re pissed, and he can see it.
He loves it. It’s obvious from the way his eyes light up despite the stoic pinch of his brow. In a flash of movement that leaves you dazed and spinning, his hand clamps around your arm and drags you into the darkened changing room. It’s empty, and most of the lights are turned off, and it’s alarmingly quiet.
You’re alone with him, and you’re not sure whether you’re excited or terrified at the thought. The change in lighting from the blinding glare of the sun to the dim, near-darkness of the room has your eyes unfocussed and you blink rapidly to try and clear your vision. “What the hell are you doing, Tom?” you demand, and he laughs. The sound is distant, letting you know that he’s drifted away from you and further into the room.
“Just making sure you don’t leave me stranded, sweetheart.” He teases, and now your eye is twitching.
Following the sound of his voice, you make your way through the darkened rows of wooden lockers. A few times you bang your knees off of poorly placed benches (or, benches you’re still struggling to make out in the dim lighting, rather) and your grunts only make him chuckle in amusement. Your legs are aching and your temper is sufficiently frazzled by the time you find him, but in an instant your vision is sharper than ever and the air is sucked from your lungs.
Tom’s shirt is off, and you’re greeted by the sight of his bare back flexing as he works at the buckle of his belt deliberately. “God, are you really changing with me in here?” you gasp, and he peers at you from over his shoulder with a smirk. “What the hell were you doing all this time?”
He turns to face you and continues with removing his belt, shrugging nonchalantly, “Making you sweat. Have to admit, I expected you’d have left.” You knew it! “So, why’d you wait?”
The button of his pants pops open easily, and your breath hitches as he unzips them without a care. You swallow thickly, eyes glued to the strong hands that curl around the fabric of his pants, and you have to turn your head as he begins to pull them down. “I don’t know.” You mutter, growing hot under his gaze as your ears are trained on the sound of his trousers hitting the floor.
His chuckle is playful and gives you chills. “You don’t know?” Tom muses, “Didn’t want to stick around to congratulate me?”
“No.” you grumble, and you clench your eyes shut in frustration at the weak retort. That’s it? Where the hell has your fire gone? It’s ridiculously to keep your resolve when you know that he’s practically naked, mere feet away from you, and you’re not sure whether hatred is what’s fueled the feud between the two of you for so long.
Is it hatred? Or is it a weird, toxic sort of sexual tension? Does he feel it too?
Tom’s voice is much closer as he hums, “No?” His hand is gentle, but firm, as he grips your chin and turns your head back to face him. You know he can see the way your eyes flicker down to his bare chest for just a moment, and he cocks his head goadingly, “That’s not very nice of you, (Y/N). I almost thought you were enjoying it, what with how hard you were staring at me—were you?”
You’re made. The not-so-subtle crack of your voice is a blazing sign screaming that you’re lying, and he catches his lip between his teeth to stifle the laugh the rips through his chest. He’s so close, his hand still holding your chin, and your resolve is in shambles around you.
His tone is husky as he repeats his words from the previous night, “It’s okay to be honest with yourself, (Y/N), we both know you were.”
Hook, line, and sinker, he’s caught you in his trap. You’re not entirely sure who’s the first to move, but your movements are frantic as you meet him in the middle to crush your lips to his, and fuck. His lips are soft, yet hard and unyielding as he bores down on you with just as much force and desperation. Your head is spinning and your lungs feel like they’ve collapsed under the weight of his kiss, and you hate the way you never want it to end.
Lips gliding over lips, teeth clashing, and his grip on your jaw has gone from a tender hold to a bruising squeeze as he holds you in place. You’re panting, gasping out hot breaths into his mouth as he parts his lips and breathes you in. Tom groans as your hands leave your sides to clutch his shoulders, clinging to him out of a fear of your knees giving out.
Your head falls back as he drags his hot and heavy lips away from your mouth, trailing wet and sloppy kisses over your jaw before he’s whispering in your ear, “I want to hear you say it, sweetheart.” Gritting your teeth, you shake your head indignantly and he growls under his breath, “Say it.”
Tom’s still working at your neck, his lips sealing around your tender skin as he sucks hard to leave his mark—a mark you’re certain will not fade for days, regardless of how many frozen spoons you might hold to it in the night. It’s not until his teeth nip at your flesh that you start to truly give in, a pitiful whine escaping you as you dig your fingernails into his shoulders, “Tom—“
He clicks his tongue, moving onto another patch of skin just behind your ear as you still refuse to tell him what he wants. Another harsh suck, one more nip of his teeth, a soothing glide of his silky tongue over bruising skin, and you can’t hold back the moan that rips from the pit of your stomach. You hate the way you can feel his smirk against your ear as he hums approvingly at the sound.
“You’re lying.” He states plainly as he pulls back to look you in the eye, positively glowing from the pliant way you’ve melted into his hold. One hand is gripping your hip firmly, the other having drifted from your jaw to find purchase in the tender space of your ribs just beneath your breast. With each breath that heaves through your chest, you can just barely feel the brush of his thumb along the swell of the fleshy mound, and you hate how much you crave to truly feel it.
Stubbornly, you protest, “I’m not.” You are, though, and he knows it.
All at once he backs away from you, all traces of his touch leaving your steadily heating body, and you have to choke down the whine of protest that threatens to leave you. Tom’s still smirking, and he shrugs whilst raking a hand through his curls that have grown messy in your entanglement, “Alright, then. I guess I read the signs wrong.”
You know damn well what he’s doing, and it’s ridiculous how easily he can snare you in his web. How easily Tom Holland can get you right where he wants you, tangle you up in his trap, and how easily he can bend you to his will. You’re faced with two choices—stick to your stubborn refusal to admit he’s right (as always) and leave this room without ever knowing what could have happened, or tell him what he wants to hear and find out exactly what could happen.
It’s a challenge, an unspoken competition, and that’s what leads you to do it. He’s gloating over your childishly stubborn nature, and you can’t stand it anymore. Your voice is harsh as you snap, “Fine, Tom. I enjoyed it.”
For a moment he looks surprised, but the subtle part of his lips is quickly stretched into a radiant smile. “That’s it?” he taunts, and you growl with a pathetic stomp of your foot. “Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that.”
“Fine!” your voice raises, “I loved it! I loved watching you, and I wasn’t faking it anymore when I cheered for you, and I meant it when I congratulated you! You were amazing, but you know that, and I was fucking proud—“
Your back slams against the locker behind you, and the loud moan that reverberates through your body at the feeling of his body pressing into you is theatrical. This time his kiss is deliberate, an all-consuming grind of his lips into yours and his hands wander your body freely. He’s pawing at your breast, squeezing the tender flesh harshly, and he’s palming your ass with a harsh grip that has you whining and pushing back into his hand desperately.
But, Tom’s got other plans. Feeling the way you submit to his touch, wordlessly begging for more, he pinches your ass hard enough to make you yelp and rips his lips from yours. His eyes are dark and heady, and his voice is gravelly as he tells you, “I want you to show me.”
Your loud breathing is wavering, the pants of air tremoring as you squeak, “What?”
“Show me,” he repeats, “show me how proud of me you were. Show me how much you enjoyed it, (Y/N). Don’t you think I deserve a proper reward?”
It takes a moment for you to figure out just what he wants, but the subtle press of his hand on your shoulder to nudge you downward fills you in. Timidly, you whisper, “Yes.” And then you’re sinking to your knees in the empty changing room, and you’re thankful he’d taken his pants off so long ago because you’re pretty sure your hands are shaking too hard to have ever taken his belt off.
Your fingers are visibly trembling as you reach toward the band of his briefs, and he laughs arrogantly at the sight, winking at the scowl that mars your features in response. Taking a deep breath, you shake off your nerves and peel the fabric down his legs quickly. That’s all you have to do—this is a challenge. Just another competition, and you’re determined to win.
His length stands at attention, your eyes trailing over the form of his cock as it springs free, and you bite down the smirk that tugs at your lips at the sight. He’s already worked up, pre-cum leaking from his reddened tip, and pride swells in your chest at knowing it’s because of you. So, your suspicions are confirmed, he has felt it too—he has those same muddy feelings that you do.
Tom’s hand curls through your hair, gripping the strands tightly at your prolonged hesitation, and he tugs your head back until you’re looking up at him. “Get on with it.” He warns, and you roll your eyes only to yelp as he yanks your hair roughly. “Don’t do that again, or you’ll regret it.”
It takes everything in you not to do it again. A part of you wants to do it, to test him, to challengehim, just to see what he’d do—but you’re determined to stay on track. The thrill of his hand guiding your head toward his length has you shivering in anticipation, though, and you’re all too eager to part your lips and take him into your mouth.
His tip is heavy on your tongue, the taste of the stray drops of his pre-cum sparking salty and bitter through your mouth, and your hands grip his thighs tightly as you adjust to the weight of him. Tom’s grip on your hair slackens for only a moment, before tightening considerably, and you relish in the quiet groan that spills from his own lips above you. You were determined to reduce him to a blubbering mess, to show him that even when he thought you were giving him exactly what he wanted… you were still the winner.
Your first bob is curious, testing your limit, and your scalp stings from how harshly he pulls at your hair the further your lips travel down his shaft. Pulling back, you hollow your cheeks tightly and flatten your tongue against the ridge beneath his tip, sucking hard. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he hisses, and you take that as your cue.
Your nose digs into the curls at the base of his cock, his tip prying your throat open as you swallow around him and hold him there. You can feel the way his thighs quiver, and your hands squeeze them teasingly. Button Number One: Tom loves it when you take all of him, and you love the way he trembles all for you.
You pull away to breathe, swirling your tongue around his tip and milking each drop of his leaking cock greedily, before pushing forward again. This time his thighs tense, his hips bucking into your mouth, and he moans when you choke around him in surprise. Tears gather in your eyes, and your nose burns as your spit is forced into your sinuses, but you push on despite the desperate urge to recoil.
“Fucking, Christ, (Y/N)!” he cries out as you pick up your pace, his nails scratching your scalp and the other hand coming down to push stray hairs from your face to clear his view. If you’d thought your favorite look on Tom’s face was the familiar clench of his jaw whenever you pissed him off, that was nothing but a distant memory now. Now, now you’re certain that this is your favorite side of Tom. The part of his lips as he pants, the clench of his eyes as he thrusts himself to the very back of your throat once more, and the way his head falls back each time he lets out a noise of ecstasy.
You love it. You love the way it’s you doing that to him, and you love the full-body shivers that consume you as you feed off of his pleasure. Already you can feel your body responding. Your belly is tightening in anticipation, your thighs are clenching, and you want nothing more than to take your hand from his thigh and slip it into your skirt.
But, that’s not your plan. You keep ahold of his legs, peering up at him from under your lashes as you take him down to the hilt once again, squeezing the hard muscle of his thighs as he groans, and you’ve got him right where you want him. You won’t be the one to take the next step; you’re determined to push him to do it himself.
It doesn’t take long, either. The moment your hand leaves his thigh to curl around his shaft, your mouth bobbing in tandem, he practically rips you away from him by your hair. His breathing is labored and you can see the slight tremor in his hands as he takes a step back and breathes, “Enough, that’s enough.”
Wiping the spit from your chin, you coo, “I thought you wanted a proper reward, Tommy?”
His briefs lay abandoned on the floor, and he kicks them away on shaky legs as he grits out, “Take off your shirt.”
He sputters, and you blink at him innocently, still sitting on your heels on the floor even though your kneecaps are begging for mercy. “No?” he repeats, and you nod, “So that’s it, then?”
Shrugging, you dismiss, “I guess so, Tommy. You want it off? Come and take it.”
Hook, line, and sinker. His jaw clenches, and in an instant he bounds toward you and heaves you up from the floor. Tom’s hands are frantic and he fumbles to rip your shirt upward, your arms lifting with the motion as he drags the fabric over your head and tosses it away. The air chills your skin, and you can see the way his eyes are drawn to the stiff peaks of your nipples straining against the fabric of your bra.
He doesn’t stop there, though, and you’re holding back a triumphant grin as his hands yank the zipper of your skirt down and shove the fabric off of your hips. His eyes are greedy, blown wide and eager as he drags them over the form of your body, only covered by your scrap of lace thong and bra. The feeling of having all eyes on you is nothing compared to the thrill of having him look at you like this, like you’re his last meal.
Finally, seeing him completely enthralled with the sight of your body, you make the next move. His breath hitches as you bring your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms and the faint sound of the fabric hitting the floor practically echoes in the quiet room. You trail your hands down your sides, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your thong, and he groans quietly.
The lace ghosts over your thighs and drops to the floor as well, and Tom is paralyzed before you. “Are you just going to stand there, Tommy?” you tease, and his shoulders stiffen.
Button Number Two: Tom absolutely loves it when you call him Tommy, and now you finally understand why it’s always gotten under his skin. He’s slow and purposeful as he steps up to you once again, his eyes gliding over all the plains of your body before finding your own, and you’re breathless at the intensity of his stare. He’s hesitant, almost, as his hand comes to rest on your hip.
“Don’t you want your reward?”
Tom silences you with a kiss, the force of it knocking your head back into the wooden locker behind you as he backs you into it all over again. A dull ache radiates through your skull, but all that you can focus on is the way his hands feel on your bare skin. One large palm drags up your ribs until it cups the swell of your breast, and he squeezes firmly. You gasp quietly, and he slips his tongue between your lips until you’re melting into him.
His fingers are deft and experienced as he toys with your nipple, pinching and rolling the bud between the calloused pads of his thumb and fingertips until it’s stiffened to its limit. “Tell me how much you enjoyed watching me.” He whispers the demand into your lips, and your back arches when he tweaks your sensitive nipple harshly. “Tell me what you liked, what had you staring at me like you wanted to rip my clothes off right on the green.”
You love the arrogant tone of his voice, and the way his cocky smirk feels against your lips as he steals another messy kiss from you. It’s sloppy, and wet, and you can feel the mixture of your saliva coating your chin and cheeks from just how feral your kisses are, and you love it. “Tommy, I—“
You can’t get the words out as he drags a finger through your folds, gathering your wetness and groaning throatily into your ear. “All this for me?” he taunts, treading the lone digit over the hood of your clit with just the faintest amount of pressure, but it’s enough to make you whine, “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“I—“ his lips seal around the nipple he’d been rolling between his fingers, and your voice pitches upward as you struggle to speak, “I loved the way you looked in your uniform. I loved the way your shirt was so tight, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like without it—fuck, Tommy!”
Tom nips at your breast, scrambling all the thoughts in your head as you throw your head back into the locker again, and his fingers tease your sodden entrance. “Keep going, sweetheart.” He tuts, and you’re putty in his hands.
Breathily, you stammer, “Your arms—I couldn’t stop staring at your arms. The way they looked when you made a long drive, all the muscle straining against your sleeves like they could rip at any second—your hands! Your hands, I wanted to feel you touch me with your glove on!”
He dips one finger into your silken hole, your walls greedily clenching around him and working to draw him in even deeper. “Is that so?” he hums, and you nod pitifully with your eyes blown wide. His brown irises twinkle as he looks up at you, an airy chuckle sending shivers down your spine as he states, “I could get it out, if you’d like.”
For a brief moment you consider it, your mind taking you back to all the fantasies you’d conjured up about the leather article, but then he curls his finger against your spongy walls and you’re crying out, “No! Just, please, fuck me, Tommy!”
The game of cat and mouse continues. You’d gotten a leg up on Tom with his cock down your throat, but now, with his finger working to break you open, he’s back on top. He knows it, too, and you love the way his eyes hungrily devour the desperate plea on your face. Now, you’ve literally got a leg up on him.
His free hand closes around the soft flesh of your thigh, hitching your leg up until it’s curled around his back and hanging from his hip. A second finger slips past your entrance, and he scissors them within you until your struggling to hold yourself up anymore. “Another time, I suppose,” he shrugs, and you’re so consumed with the feeling of his digits pumping within you to take note of his implications that this will not be the only time he has you like this.
Tom’s grip on your thigh is harsh as he squeezes at the supple skin, his lips finding yours again as you writhe against him. The stretch of his fingers curling, scissoring, pumping into you burns delightfully as he picks up his pace. All that you can hear is the roar of blood rushing behind your ears, the messy squelch of your juices echoing through the room, and the sloppy whisper of your lips moving with his. You bite down on his lower lip when he curls his fingers just right, hitting the spot deep within you that sends sparks of pleasure radiating through your body. “Right there, Tommy, please—don’t stop!” you beg, your hips bucking, and he listens.
His cock is pressed into your abdomen, and Tom bites hard on your own lip as he curls his fingers again and again, working hard to take you to the limit. “C’mon, sweetheart, I know you’re close.” He grunts, and your hands are desperate to find purchase in him to keep you from crumbling. One curls into his hair, fisting the chocolate curls roughly, and the other squeezes the bicep that’s still straining to hold your leg up on his hip.
The coil in your belly is white-hot, tightened to an extreme that you’ve never felt before, and you’re greedy for more. Grinding your hips into his palm, pushing his fingers even further within you, you cry out, “Please, I need you—“
His thumb rolls deep circles around your clit, and you’re completely shattered. The coil snaps, your vision exploding into blinding stars, and you nearly topple to the floor as your leg finally gives out. Tom catches you, though, hissing as your nails drag deep welts into his bicep.
All too soon his fingers disappear from where you want—no, need them. You whine at the empty feeling that destroys your mind blowing orgasm, but the whine is quick to morph into a shriek. “Tommy!” you gasp, and he groans as he thrusts his length into your clenched entrance abruptly.
He sheathes himself to the hilt, splitting you open as your walls continue to flutter through the aftershocks of your climax, and his face drops into your shoulder. “You’re so fucking tight.” Tom pants.
Your heel digs into his back as you cling to him, your toes straining to keep you standing on the ground as he draws back and snaps his hips into yours roughly. The sharp cry that tears through your throat makes it burn, your windpipe ragged from the shrill exertion, and he moans deeply. His tip rams into the spongy point his fingers had just abused, and you clench around him in response.
It’s rough, and messy, and your back is definitely going to be bruised from how hard he’s slamming you into the wooden surface behind you, but you don’t care. All you care about is the perfect way his length stretches you, the way his lips suck at your neck mindlessly, and the way it feels when he rolls his hips just right to push as deep within you as he can go. He’s still clutching your thigh, his other hand holding your hips in place, and you wonder if you’re squeezing his arm hard enough to draw blood.
Pulling at his hair, you force his lips back to yours as your eyes roll back in pleasure. At this point you’re pretty sure the lazy, desperate press of your lips together is far from an actual kiss—more just frantic mouthing and heavy panting as you exchange moans into each other’s lungs, but you love it. “You feel so fucking good, Tommy,” you heave out, and he groans loudly as he forces his hips upward in a rough thrust, “I love it! I love the way you fuck me; I want you to make me cum!”
Button Number Three: Tom really, really loves it when you praise him, and you love to do it. His growl Is animalistic as he grips your hip so tightly it hurts, but the pain fades to nothing as he drives his cock into you even faster. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh, the sound of your juices and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin tearing through the silence in the room, and you love the sound of it. His moans are deep and vibrate through your body, making you rock down into him each time he makes a noise.
“This cunt is mine,” he growls, and you clench your eyes shut as you feel his hand leave your hip to work in between your bodies. His thumb presses harshly on your clit, a choked squeal escaping you, and he demands, “Look at me, (Y/N). I want you to say it. Tell me whose cunt this is—tell me who fucks you like no one else ever could!”
You whine as his thumb remains still over your bud, his thrusts slowing too, and you’re too desperate to keep feeling him to care for how easily you give in to his demands. “Yours! It’s all yours, Tommy, I’m yours! Nobody could ever make me feel this good, nobody but you!” you sob, and you’ve never seen a smirk so pleased as the one that splits his cheeks in that moment. You love it, though.
His thumb rolls over your clit in steady, rhythmic circles, and tingles rip up your spine. Tom’s thrusts pick up their pace again, and you chant his name like a mantra. You can feel him straining, the way his thrusts are spastic and less focused, and you know he’s close. His eyes are clenched, his curls are limp and slick with sweat on his forehead, and you can see his cheeks reddening as he holds his breath to keep from cumming.
Gripping his hair tighter, you whisper, “You win, Tommy.” His eyes snap open, and you repeat, “You fucking win, you were right, please, just make me cum!”
You’ve found the golden ticket. His hips slam into your own one final time, his thumb working your swollen bud with more fury than ever, and the spark in your belly catches. Your entire body seizes as you tip over the edge, your head thrown back and your leg locking around his waist so hard he can’t pull back. He’s still rolling your clit like his life depends on it, even as he shouts your name and his cock twitches within your pulsing walls, and it’s burning you up inside.
The climax that consumes you is nothing like the first. Instead of stars in your eyes, it’s like you’re staring directly into the sun. Your vision whites out, and your hearing distorts into white noise, and your entire body is trembling. Each continued circle over your clit sends another wave of pleasure through your body so intense that you spasm, and you finally have to beg, “Stop, stop! Too much, Tommy, stop!”
His thumb finally stops its assault, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his length pulsing within your walls. A warmth fills you up, and you moan at the sensation despite knowing it was probably a poorly made decision. “Fuck,” Tom pants, chuckling slightly as he drops his head onto your shoulder and finally drops your leg, “I really hope you’re on birth control.”
“Yeah,” you laugh, “I am. Probably should have talked about that before, but… yeah.”
He’s breathing heavily as he laughs too, sheepishly repeating, “Yeah.”
The car ride back to campus is far from awkward, much to your surprise. You and Tom spend the entire ride discussing his championship, and you pretend to understand what he’s talking about when he goes full golf mode on you. In turn, he listens just as dutifully while you tell him about the upcoming sorority raffle in a few weeks, though you know he probably doesn’t care.
You sing along to the radio, fight over which top 40 song is the best, and you even find yourself dancing as you drive like you do when you’re alone. He dances too, though, so at least you know you have ammunition should he ever decide to speak of your horrible moves in public. You laugh and poke fun at each other, and for once it’s not about making the other mad. It’s just… playful.
But, now as you pull up outside of the fraternity house to drop him off, things are finally starting to come back to reality. Neither one of you can look the other in the eye, and you aren’t entirely sure what to say to him as you finally put the car in park and he grips the door handle. For once, he’s the first to break the silence and tread into uncharted territory, “So…”
“This changes nothing,” you finally say, taking his prolonged silence as a cue for you to speak, “right?”
His brown eyes hold your own for a long moment, and you almost worry you’ve said the wrong thing, before a tiny smirk twitches at his lips just like you’ve always seen, and he nods. “Yeah, right.” He affirms, and opens the door. “But, uh, maybe you could come inside?”
You stare at him in stunned silence, and the mischievous twinkle in his eye never dwindles as he patiently waits for a response. Glancing at the house, filled to the brim with his idiotic fraternity brothers, you ponder over whether to say yes or not. You could say no, and wonder what would have happened if you said yes. Or, you could say yes and find out for yourself.
It’s a challenge, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Another competition, and you refuse to back down from him. So, you shrug and say, “Sure. I still hate you, though.”
Tom grins, “And I still hate you, sweetheart.”
TAGLIST {non-permanent, fic exclusive}:
@osterfieldshollandgirl @daydreamingchaos713 @itscaminow
special thanks to @peterr-parkourr for being the best hype woman ever. i hope you enjoy this!
610 notes · View notes
vendettaparker · 15 days ago
Baby Blues [T.H]
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Summary: When you start acting weird, Tom suspects that you’re pregnant. 
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, very very light angst, typos
a/n: i love love loved this request! it was so cute and sweet and i’m such a whore for dad!tom (even though he’s technically not a dad in this lol). tom has said that he’s a huge family man and that he’d love to have kids one day, so this fic is so perfect and cute for that perspective. hope you all enjoy and as always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 
Tom was one hundred percent a family man. That little personality trait only seemed to multiply when he met you. Even before you were dating, all he could think about was starting a family with you. He’d always tell you, one of his closest friends, about the family he couldn’t wait to start. When you did actually start dating, he’d always whisper sweet comments in your ear about what an amazing mother you’d be and how much he wanted to see you round with his kids. He was usually super sweet and gushy with it, but every once in a while he’d slip an “I’m gonna fuck you full of my babies”, which would always lead to the best sex you’d ever experienced. 
You wanted kids too, but your need for them was held back by how unprepared you felt and how young you were. You and Tom were still only in your twenties. You still had plenty of time to start a family. Hell, you weren’t even married yet. So, Tom agreed to wait for kids, even if he couldn’t possibly contain his excitement at the thought of starting a family with you. 
Until you and Tom were both completely prepared for the responsibility of kids, you stayed on birth control.
For most of your life, you stayed on this one birth control, but due to a change in your insurance, it was a better option to switch to one that would be more widely covered. The switch wasn’t that big of a deal, it just made you much more tired, moody, hungry, and snippy. You also may have gained a few extra pounds on this new pill. 
“Darling,” Tom called for you once he got home from his meetings, “where’s my beautiful—” 
He shut up the minute he saw you sprawled out across the couch with a donut in your hand and powdered sugar on your face. He chuckled a bit to himself at the silly sight, but his heart swelled with love when he saw how peaceful you looked. 
However, it was a bit strange that you were so tired at only four in the evening. He set his things down and took the donut out of your hand before pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. 
He didn’t think anything of it after that. 
It was about a week later when he heard you in the bathroom crying. 
“Love?” Tom knocked on the door, “Are you okay?”
You sniffled and open the door yourself, “Yeah, I just dropped my favorite perfume.” You looked down at the pink glass vile smashed on the floor, the lovely scent of roses filling the bathroom. 
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Tom came in and bent down to help you pick it up. You let out another sob, causing Tom to look up and see the red puffiness of your cheeks and the tears streaming down them. “I can buy you some more.” He offered. 
“It’s not the same,” you sniffled and sucked in a shaky breath, “this is the one I wore to the Far From Home premiere. It’s special to me.” You whispered the last part because your crying was becoming too raw. 
“It’s okay, darling,” Tom tried to comfort you, reaching out to hold you.
“No, it’s not” You snapped before being reduced to tears again. 
Tom just bit his tongue and nodded before finishing picking up the glass. 
You snuggled up to him later that night like nothing happened. “Mmm,” You hummed as you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your head into his pec, “you’re so comfortable. I love you.” 
Tom smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I love you too. Are you feeling better?”
“About what?”
“That perfume?” 
“Oh, yeah. I guess it wasn’t that big of a deal.” You shrugged before grabbing the remote and putting on a show for you and Tom. 
Three weeks later, with tiny little incidents in between, is when it finally clicked for Tom. You were at his family’s house for a summer grill out to celebrate the end of the season. 
“(Y/N)!” Paddy gave you a huge hug when he saw you, “I’m sorry I missed your birthday last month, I got this for you.” He held out a stuffed panda with a red bow on it. You gasped and held the gift in your hand. “I know how much you like pandas,” Paddy smiled. 
“I do,” You sniffled, surprising the young boy and Tom and Harrison, who were by your side, “I can’t believe you remembered that.” Tom could see the tears building up in your eyes, but he didn’t get a chance to ask if you were okay before you pulled Paddy into a bear hug, “thank you so much, Pads. This is the best gift ever.” You said, wiping your eyes with your other hand. 
You took Paddy’s hand, missing the surprised look on his face, and walked to the backyard where the grill out was with him. 
“Dude, what the hell was that about?” Harrison nudged Tom. 
“What?” Tom jolted back to reality.
“(Y/N), she was super emotional over that toy,” Harrison nodded in the direction you went. 
“Oh yeah,” Tom shrugged, “I don’t know, she’s been a little extra moody lately. The whole past month actually.” 
“She cried at a dog food commercial the other day,” Harry butt in from out of nowhere. 
“She ate almost all of that cheesecake I made last week,” Sam also added. 
“She yelled at me for stepping on her white sneakers,” Tuwaine commented. 
“Actually, that’s pretty valid,” Harrison said, “those were new sneakers.” 
“Still hurt my feelings,” Tuwaine mumbled. 
“Do you think—I mean, she could be—you guys think that maybe she’s, y’know…” Harry trailed off, swaying on his feet. 
“What?” Tom looked at all the boys, who one by one grew big knowing grins on their faces. 
“Mate,” Harrison hit Tom upside the head, “she’s pregnant.” 
Tom choked on his beer at that, “W-What? No—no, she’s not. She would’ve told me...right? Right?” 
“Maybe she wanted to surprise you,” Harry shrugged. 
“All the signs are pointing to it,” Sam added. 
“I didn’t even leave a smudge on the sneakers, she was just being mean,” Tuwaine grumbled. 
“No,” Tom shook his head, “I mean she just—I’m pretty sure she’d tell me.” 
“Think about it, mate,” Harrison put his arm around Tom’s shoulders, “she’s been moody, hungry, snippy—has she been extra tired lately?” Tom thought about it for a moment before slowly nodding. Harrison snapped his fingers, “and the final cherry on top; she’s drinking water instead of the mimosas your mom made.” 
“But (Y/N) doesn’t even like alcohol,” Tom tried to argue, but Harry immediately shut that down. 
“But she loves mimosas.” He pointed out. 
“Oh my god,” Tom gasped as the gears in his head finally began to process the information, “s-she’s pregnant. Oh my god, I’m gonna be a dad.” He looked at the boys, who one by one nodded along with big smiles on their faces. That was the last thing Tom saw before he fainted. 
“What the hell happened to him?” You snapped at the boys while you ran your fingers through an unconscious Tom’s hair. 
“Oh, y’know,” Sam swayed on his feet, “just the news and all.” 
“What news?” 
The boys looked at each other and all sent you a collective wink before rushing out of the room. You looked suspiciously at the door they left out of but shrugged it off. You were much too tired for their antics. 
Tom slowly came to as you ran a cool rag over his face, “Darling?” He mumbled. 
“Tommy? You okay? What happened?” You asked softly as you inspected his now opened eyes, making sure his pupils weren’t messed up. 
 “I’m alright, just took a little tumble is all.” Tom shrugged. He decided to not tell you that he knew just yet. If you wanted to surprise him, then he wanted to see what you had planned. You probably put a lot of work into the surprise and he’d hate to be the one to burst your bubble and ruin all the hard work. 
“Are you sure?” You looked at him worriedly, “Did the boys do something to you?” 
“No,” Tom shook his head, “I’m fine, baby, I promise.” 
You reluctantly nodded, “Okay, but if you start to feel faint again then we’re going to the hospital, no exceptions.” You said sternly. 
“Mhm,” Tom nodded and pulled you down for a kiss, “of course.” 
Unfortunately for Tom, like the bundle of excitement and nerves he was, he began stocking up on baby clothes and stuffed animals. Every time he’d see something cute he’d be rushing to the cash register to buy it. All the boys were in on it too, sending you both lots of baby shoes and diapers, which Tom just so happened to always receive. 
But soon another month went by and you still hadn’t said anything to Tom about the supposed pregnancy and he was beginning to get too antsy. 
“Darling,” Tom kissed your neck as he hugged you from behind while you cooked pasta, “you look beautiful today.” 
“Aw, thank you,” You gushed, turning your head around to press a wet kiss to his lips, “miss you this morning.” 
“Sorry, I just went to the store with the boys,” Tom mumbled, running a hand over your stomach, confusing you slightly, but you didn’t say anything. 
“That’s nice,” You commented as you stirred your sauce, “did you find anything nice?” 
“Mhm,” Tom hummed, “in fact, I got something I think you’ll really like…” 
“Oh? What is it?” 
Tom had gone out that morning and picked up a newborn Spider-man onesie. Since you hadn’t said anything, he decided to take the initiative. You may have been trying to surprise him, but he realized that it was unfair to you to let you keep thinking he didn’t know. At least, that's how he reasoned it so he could show you all the cool baby outfits he got. 
Tom held out the plastic bag to you with a huge smile on his face, “Now I know you might be a little confused with how I knew to get this, but just know that I’m happier than ever right now, okay?” 
“Okay?” You nodded skeptically, opening the bag and taking out the red and blue onesie, no bigger than a kitchen dish rag. “What the—?
“Surprise!” Tom yelled, “I know, I know, there’s no way I should know and I tried to hide the fact that I knew, but you know how excited I get. And you didn’t say anything, so I decided to just get it out of the way, and I have a whole closet filled with toys and diapers and the boys got us little—”
“What?” You interrupted Tom’s rambling, and held out the onesie, “What are you talking about?” 
Tom’s smile faltered, “Y-You know, for the baby…” 
You looked shocked and curious at Tom and then back at the onesie. Then you said the worst thing Tom could hear at that moment, “What baby?” 
“O-Our baby…” Tom said slowly, “right?” 
“I’m not pregnant, Tom.” You tilted your head, “Why would you think that?”
Tom began to rack his brain for the signs of pregnancy he saw in you these past couple of months, “B-But you were so m-moody? And tired? And you cried at the dog food commercial and Harrison said—” 
“Baby,” You cut Tom off and held a hand to his cheek, wiping the stray tear he didn’t even realize had fallen, “I’m not pregnant, babe; I got on a new birth control. It’s just taking my body a while to adjust to the change in hormones.” 
“Are—are you sure?” Tom asked hopefully. 
You frowned, “I’m sure,” You nodded, pulling him in for a hug and letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you got your hopes up. Are you okay?” You said, giving his head a scratch to soothe him. 
“I’m fine. It’s not your fault,” Tom sighed, “I was just so excited. I really wanted it to be true.” He sniffled. 
“Tom—” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, but he pulled away. 
“It’s fine darling,” Tom straightened himself out and let go of you, “it’s fine. I’m just disappointed is all.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before sulking away. 
After a quiet dinner, you found Tom in the guest room, going through all the baby items. You watched from the doorway while Tom looked at the little pile of clothes and toys pitifully. 
“Hey, baby,” You said softly, taking a seat next to him, “I’m really really sorry. I didn’t realize you’d think that.” 
“It’s not your fault,” Tom said again, toying with the Spider-man onesie, “Harrison’s the one that put the idea in my head.” He chuckled bitterly. 
“Tom,” You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Y’know I was thinking of baby names,” Tom said, “I was thinking Parker for a boy, or maybe Theodore, but we’d call him Theo.” 
“I like that,” You smiled, “or maybe Finley, and we could call him Finn.” You picked up the little Spider-man onesie and inspected it yourself, “and for a girl?” 
“I’ve always liked the name Clara,” Tom said, “or maybe Annalise, but we’d call her Anna.” 
“I like the name Ophelia,” You added, “maybe we’d just called her O.” 
“Yeah,” Tom smiled at the thought, before frowning again and beginning to pack up the baby items, “maybe one day.” 
“Tom,” You grabbed his arm and stopped him, “it means a lot to me too. I want to do this with you. If you think you’re ready, then I’m ready.” 
“Really?” Tom’s eyes began to glisten, “Are you sure? Really, truly sure?”
“I’m sure,” You nodded, “I want to give you kids, Tom. I love you.” 
Tom grinned and held your face in his hands, planting kisses all over it, “I love you too. I love you, I love you, I love you. Are you sure this is what you want?” 
“I’ve never wanted anything more,” You smiled, “I promise.”
✧tags & moots✧ PERM
@ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @kelieah @iovebug @celestialholland  @hollandcrush @scarletspideyy @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spideyspeaches @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @white-wolf1940 @wierdteenagenerd @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @morganwilliams @loveaffaire @tomfknholland @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @bi-lmg07 @aayaissaa @sophiaparkerbarnes @runawaywithmyghost @micaelaf05 @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeel @peni5parker @tomsoxytocin @slut-for-steve-rogers @vavilip @kitkatt18-blog @kittkatt2015 @kitkat2015-blog @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @hollandsfirstlady @hollandswife @writesforholland @hollandsrecs @theonly1outof-a-billion @thevelvetseries @moonchild-s-blog @ottitt @lmaotshollandd​ 
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lovewasted · 28 days ago
Tom going to the gym with you and he's too busy making threatening every guy who stares at you to actually work out
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warnings— overprotective!tom, maybe possessive!tom, language
notes— this was shit but
blurb sleepover (closed)
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that bloody treadmill.
tom's been sat on the weight lifting bench; not lifting a weight. too busy staring at the narc that's been eyeing you on the elyptical.
can't blame him, her ass looks s'pretty in those biker shorts
shutup, that's only your ass to look at div.
he internally battled with himself. whites of his knuckles evident, whilst his palms balled into fists. he will willing to sacrifice his own work out to help you, aware of how men react to a woman with little to no clothing on. but you were adamant on doing something for yourself, in the headspace to listen to any playlist that came to mind, calories shredding off in fits of sweat.
the middle aged man observed the small of your back, and the way the firmness of your cheeks built from the pace of your jog. or the way your chest bounced from the stomps of your tennis shoes against treadmill rubber.
tom wanted to fucking slam his face into the base of the elyptical, and make the creep beg for tom to let up.
worst part, he knew you were with tom. orbs not removing themselves the moment the two of you walked into the semi-packed gym together. causing a scene was out of the question, as he's on his feet shoving the man's shoulder, few grey hairs standing straight up on the backs of his arms. peering at tom in your aligning vision, results in you pressing the pause button on both the treadmill and the music icon on your phone.
"think you could stop staring at my girlfriend?"
tom's accent is thick and the glint in his features should make the figure he's hoovering over aware that if he doesn't get up in the next few seconds, tom is bound to perform what he learned in boxing class.
"m'not looking at her, she-"
"she nothing, walk away."
he wants no trouble, and is willing to pussy out and prance to the elyptical on the other side of the gym. stopping in his tracks, he knows tom could take him. muscles prominent and jaw clenched with ease.
"alright man! sorry."
"m' sorry too! m' sorry that you can't have my girl! and-and m' sorry that her ass looks perfect enough to touch but-"
his curls adorning the nape of his neck are strong with your warm breath. the male maneuvering past tom, overbearing with a grit of his teeth. your voice alone was enough to make him come down from the adrenaline high and defy the enlarged grimances of the gym customers. turning on his heels he grins, your mouth still and numb.
"lovie, uh... the perv was almost foaming at the mouth over you. had to say something..."
a sloppy grin splayed on the corners of your lips. delighted with his sudden flustered emotion. you throw your pair of warm arms about his neck, a peck landing place on his sculpted nose.
"just don't almost kill someone next time."
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spideyyeet · 11 months ago
What’s That?
Peter Parker x stark!reader
Request: Imagine peter x reader are having sex and Morgan stark is your little sister and she walks in on you 2 and starts to ask inappropriate questions and they Morgan tells your dad Tony stark and he gets mad and overprotective about reader and pepper is there as well
Warning: smuttttt, language, fluff, slight angst
Oh lord I made this so fucking dirty🤭🤭🤭
Gif not mine :)
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“Yoo chillll.” You said swatting Peter’s hands as he tried to wrap his arms around you.
“Please, I almost died.” Peter whined dramatically as you looked over the edge of the roof, the cops leaving with the robbers you and Peter caught. You pulled your mask down from your nose, turning around, Peter’s arm coming around you.
“You’re so needy all the time. Make it make sense—“ Peter cut you off with his lips. His hand going down your lower back to rest comfortably on your ass. His lips moving desperately against yours.
“Can I not love you?” Peter mumbles, his tongue running up your lips, your jaw going slack, letting Peter slip his tongue in yours.
“You’re so dramatic.” You roll your eyes making Peter let out a breathy laugh.
“Wanna take you right here. Fuck you against the roof. Wanna feel you, baby.” Peter mumbles in your ear, nibbling and sucking under. You moan softly, his words going straight to your core.
“Steve doesn’t want us out past ten.” Your voice shakes as Peter’s hand cups your clothed heat. Your suit was thick, but knowing it’s Peter’s beautiful hand pushing up makes you moan.
“But I can smell you, you’re so wet. Just know your cunt is dripping on those pretty white panties I saw you wearing earlier.” Peter’s low and husky voice making your pussy clench, leaning your head back.
“Fuck Peter.” You sighed, feeling Peter smirk against your neck, his tongue lapping at the skin.
“Want you pretty girl, see you fall apart here. Want the whole block to know you’re mine.” You whimpered, hand grasping his curls—
“L/N, Parker, you were supposed to be back thirty minutes ago.” Steve’s voice echoed through your coms, Steve overriding both your suits.
Peter huffed, dropping his head on your shoulder.
“If you both aren’t here in twenty minutes, I’ll have both your asses on the line.” Steve barks, making you roll your eyes. “Am I clear?”
“Crystal.” You and Peter grumble. You hear the static as Steve disconnects. Peter groans into your neck.
“I fucking hate Steve like this—“ Peter starts.
You hum. “This week he’s been so strict.”
Peter nods. “I think it’s cuz of last weeks mission.”
You cringe. “Okay but it’s not our fault though.”
“The truth serum was fucking real!” Peter exasperates.
You nod frantically. “They won’t believe it until they can’t lie.”
“Exactly.” Peter rolls his eyes. “We should probably get going.” Peter whispers, eyes dark, curls falling over his face, his fingers tilting your chin up, pulling your lips to connect with his. Peter opens his mouth letting his tongue slip back into yours. You moan into his mouth—
“Eighteen minutes!” Steve barks.
“Jesus!” Peter pulls away.
You walk into the compound. Peter following behind you, shaking his hair, mask in hand. He whispers in your ear, your cheeks flush—
“Stevie wants you in the big table room!” Morgan calls out from the couch. Her toys laying around as Pepper plays with her.
Your head falls back, groan coming out.
“He’s in a mood.” Pepper warns.
“When is he not.” You comment, before walking down the hall. Peter’s hand on your lower back, holding his mask over his crotch to cover his slight bulge.
The doors slide open, revealing Bruce, Tony and Nat sitting at the table. Steve was leaning against the wall talking to your dad.
“It’s about time.” Steve announced as he caught you and Peter walking in.
“Chill, nothing happened.” You grumbled, earning a warning glance from Nat.
“Doesn’t matter, we agreed everyone’s back from patrol by ten, unless there’s an emergency.” Steve says, crossing his arms.
“You guys agreed, I don’t remember agreeing to anything.” You said, Peter was taking a seat.
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Bruce decided to step in before things escalate.
“Okay, you guys weren’t that late. What’s the report?” Bruce kept a leveled voice, calming you down. Peter decided to take the lead, letting you sit down, unzipping your suit jacket, revealing your black tank top underneath.
Peter’s eyes caught your chest, his body heating up. He quickly averts his gaze, letting Steve discuss the mission for Friday.
You were playing with your fingers, unbeknownst by Peter’s stare, until you finally looked up, catching his dark eyes, instantly making your cheeks flush, stomach jittery.
Peter bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes racked over your figure again, the slight sweat drying from your chest. The way your cheeks were still flushed from both him and patrol.
“Okay you guys are excused.” Tony said, Peter instantly pulling your hand— “Wait y/n.”
“Yea, dad?” You stopped, Peter behind you, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.
“Morgan was asking about you all day, shower and change and maybe watch a movie with her or something, okay?” Tony said, skeptically looking at Peter jittery behind you.
“Yea totally.” You nodded, quickly getting pulled out by Peter.
Your cheeks were flushed, body burning as Peter’s arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed your neck down the hall.
“Still wet for me baby?” Peter mumbled into your skin, as you both drew closer to your room. You sighed in response, opening your door, just for Peter to quickly push you in, kicking the door closed as he turned you around. His hands pulling your hips against his, kissing you deeply. Your eyes closed as Peter guided your lips with his.
You moaned, opening your mouth, your hands coming around his neck as Peter bit your bottom lip, drawing a whimper from the back of your throat, a smirk pulling at his lips. His hands drifted to your ass, ushering you to jump.
Your legs wrapped around his torso. Your heart fluttered, Peter held you up with one arm under your ass as the other stroked your jaw, brushing some hair out of the way, hand holding the side of your face, his thumb trailing over your lips, pulling at your bottom lip.
Peter’s eyes were focused on you, your head lulled back, giving him perfect access to your neck. Peter licked up the column of you neck, before sucking on your skin desperately. The warmth from his lips on your skin, had your body heating up.
Your hands ran through his hair, your core pulsing as Peter groaned against your neck. He squeezed your ass making you moan and continued his kissing as he carried you to the bed, kneeling on the side before letting you fall on the bed. You bounced slightly, biting your lip as Peter’s hands were on your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“Wanna taste your pretty fucking cunt baby. Gonna have you cum all over my face before I drive my dick ‘til your falling apart under me, yea?” The dirty words were just flowing from his lips, making you moan. “Good girl.”
“Peter.” You were putty in his hands. Peter sadly had to rip himself away from you. Standing beside the bed as he pressed the spider on his chest. You tossed your suit jacket off the bed ready to pull the rest of your suit off before Peter was holding your wrists.
“I wanna take em off. Okay?” You nod, biting your lip, watching Peter kick his suit to the side, coming back over to you with his boxers loose on his hips, your eyes trailing the v-line that dipped under pointing at the very obvious tent of his boxers. Your hands automatically reaching for him. Peter kissed you, his hand coming up to tilt your head, tongue going deeper and messier.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, lifting your core to rub against his bulge earning a deep groan from Peter. “So fucking needy. Gonna behave for me?” Peter was only ever dominant in bed when he was desperate, he loved it when you took the lead, but it made him twitch and cock leak knowing you’d do anything just to let him have his way with you.
You nodded frantically. Peter clicked his tongue. “Words baby. Cmon, tell me you’re gonna be my good girl.” Peter bit your neck, you moaned, voice shaky.
“I’ll b-behave—gonna be your good girl. Peter.” You whimpered as he sucked a nice bruise on your collarbone, his hand massaging your breast over your top.
Peter hummed in approval, before pushing your shirt over your head. Your brows furrowed when you saw Peter sit up slightly, then you felt him start tying the loose top around your wrists, securing them together. You felt a new flood rush down to your core, trying your best not to buck your hips up.
Peter came back down, noticing your chest heaving and cheeks flushed.
“Like being tied up?” He smirks smugly, his thumb grazing your lips, pulling your bottom lip down, your tongue slightly hanging before Peter ran his tongue over it, spitting on your tongue. Your thighs clenched around his waist, feeling his salvia run down your tongue before he slipped his tongue into your mouth, making you moan. “Like being all spread out for me, eh? Let me play with my babygirl?”
He trailed his wet kisses down to your breast, making you whimper. He then realized you still had a bra on, nibbling on his lip, he knew you’d get mad, but he did it anyway. He unclasped the back before snapping both of the straps and tossing it away. Surprised when you didn’t protest.
“You’re not mad?” His eyes softened, biting his bottom lip. You shook your head.
“I’m so fucking wet Peter, you can rip all my fucking clothes and I’d still do anything for you.” Peter’s cock grew at your words.
“Shit.” Peter crashed his lips back on yours, he was breathing against you, your tied hands clenched as Peter rolled his bare chest against yours, feeling your breasts.
Peter finally came back down sucking on your nipples, flicking his tongue before going to the other and tweaking at the wet one that was hardening. He sent shivers through your body as you moaned, biting your lip as you looked at the mop of curls on your chest, his eyes looking up at you as he played with the nipple in his mouth. Your mouth was agape as Peter winked, his tongue going down your abdomen, making your stomach clench in anticipation.
Peter started unbuckling the straps around the waist of your suit, he tossed the few daggers on your thighs on the nightstand, you were growing impatient.
“Peter it’s fine just take em off at the same time,” you blurt, Peter mumbling a quick sorry and okay before he was tugging your pants down, quickly pulling your shoes off as well, you chuckled lightly as you watched him struggle to get the pant leg from your feet.
“You always take it off so easily.” Peter grumbles, finally getting it off. Throwing it on the floor before getting ready to take your socks off.
“Wait keep em on.” Peter looks at you with a quirked brow. “My feet are always cold.”
Peter chuckles, mumbling an okay, before holding your waist and kissing your lower stomach. You bit your lip, Peter’s hand coming up to twist your nipple making you moan. His fingers twisting both nipples, shaking your tits, smiling at your noises.
He continued to tease you, sucking hickies on your inner thighs now. “God, you’re soaked baby.” Peter bit his lip at the prominent damp spot on your panties. You whimpered as you felt Peter press his lips on your clothed cunt.
Smirking against you, he pushed his tongue against your clit, making your hips jump. “Peter.” You moan, looking at him intently.
Peter winks, ripping your panties and tossing it. He notices you clench around nothing, his cock hard as rock, but all he could think about was burying his face in your sweet cunt.
“So fucking pretty,” Peter says spreading your lower lips open, seeing you clench. He took a bold lick up, tongue warm against your cunt. You let out a moan, chest heaving as Peter moves his tongue against your slit, before circling your clit. Peter has a huge smile on his face as his eyes lock on you. Your head thrown back and chest pushing out, hands bound over your head.
Your legs rested on his shoulders as Peter sucks on his slender fingers, making you bite your lip at the salvia trickling down his hand before he was pushing two fingers inside you, pumping at a relentless speed, you break into a loud moan, whining as Peter curls his fingers, moving his head around as he slurps at your pussy. You tug at the tank top that was tied tightly. You could control elements, but Peter is has super strength. You could burn it off, but you were to busy swimming in the pleasure of your boyfriend mercilessly eating your pussy out.
“Peter. Peter—“ you were panting his name, arms flexing as he kept going. You were whimpering and spreading your legs wider, grinding your cunt up. He was taking big breaths, panting agaisnt your pussy before diving back in as his fingers hit spots inside you that had your hips bucking and stomach curling.
“Can feel you baby—cum for me.” Peter mumbled, pushing his tongue agaisnt your clit.
“Shit Peter shit!” You were shaking as Peter swiped his tongue one last time before you were bucking your hips, body convulsing and cumming on his tongue. Peter replaces his finger with his tongue, slurping at your cunt, before kissing up your waist. His body grazes yours, bulge pushing against your sensitive pussy.
“Always taste so sweet.” Peter licks his lips swiping the excess with the back of his hand before crashing his lips on yours.
You melted in the kiss, slowly coming down from you high as Peter kicked his boxers off, your eyes grew noticing his angry cock pulse. Peter sat up on his knees between your open legs, the veins on his cock looked like they were going to burst, the tip pink and leaking, his cock twitching in the air needing to be touched.
“Fuck.” Your pussy clenches, Peter held the base of his cock spitting down on it, moving his hand spreading his salvia around. You bit your lip as you looked up at Peter’s face as he shook slightly from the pleasure of his hand, his chest rising and falling.
“Got me so fucking hard baby,” Peter groaned, hips swirling with his movements. You were moaning at the sight of your boyfriend touching himself. He finally started rubbing his cock between your wet folds. Slapping his cock on your clit a couple times, your hips bucking at the contact, Peter smirked to himself as he saw you wiggle on the bed.
“Love how responsive you always are. So desperate for my dick, eh?” You nod, your chest glistening with sweat making Peter bite his lip seeing your breasts push out with each breath you take.
Peter pushed his tip against your clit, circling it slowly making your mouth fall agape, knuckles white.
“Please Peter, fuck me.” You beg, Peter had told you to behave, but even he was desperate and couldn’t last with the teasing.
“Gladly.” His cock rammed into your cunt, your body jolting at the fullness of having his cock inside you. You moaned, chest heaving as Peter held your waist, thrusting into you, balls slapping your ass as wet noises filled the room.
“Shit—so fucking tight.” Peter groaned as he kept going, looking down at your hands wiggling as you looked up at him desperatly. Peter whimpered under your eyes as he kissed your neck. “Fuck I love you so much.”
You whine in his ear, bucking your hips trying to meet his thrusts. Peter’s mouth fell agape against your shoulder as he planted his hands beside your head picking himself up slightly, going faster.
“Peter?” Your mind was foggy.
“Yea baby?” Peter grunted, looking down at you as you moaned.
“Pleas—please let me touch you. Please Peter.” Peter noticed your hands still bound above your head. And he desperately wanted to feel your nails mark his skin and tug his hair.
Peter reached over and ripped the fabric, setting your wrists free. Your hands instantly went to his back, legs still wrapped around him, making it easier for Peter to rail into you.
Your head was thrown back as Peter’s arm fully wrapped around your back, your body hovering over the mattress slightly as Peter panted chasing his high. You tugged on his curls making Peter groan loudly.
“Like this baby, feels so fucking good, pussy drenching my dick—“ Peter slapped your ass as he pounded harder, your head thrown back—
“Y/n come on let’s watch—oops.” Your head snaps to the door seeing your toddler sister standing with her hand over her mouth, staring at you and Peter.
“Morgan!” You shriek, hitting Peter shoulder causing him to grunt looking up you, brows furrowed until he finally sensed the door and there stood Morgan, giggling.
“What’s that?” She points at Peter.
“Oh fuck!” Peter pulled out, grabbing your pillow, covering his front. His chest was flushed and heaving, both of you sweaty and panting. You covered yourself with the thin blanket of your bed as Morgan continued walking in the room, mindlessly.
“What were you guys doing?” Morgan itches her nose cluelessly.
“Nothing, just uh...playing a game.” You answer, chest heaving, whimpering slightly at how fast Peter had pulled out. Peter looked over at you concerned.
“Hi Petey.” Morgan cheers, Peter pushing a smile.
“Hey bean.” Morgan beams at the nickname.
“Why was y/n screaming? Daddy says I should scream if someone’s hurting me. Were you hurting y/n?” Morgan ranted, her little brows furrowed together.
“Wha—no, no I wasn’t hurting her. She was uh erm.. she was....happy.....screaming? You know when you get happy and start cheering.” Peter tries to explain, watching Morgan start to nod.
“Ohh yea.” She smiles again, shifting on her feet as she points to the pillow on Peter’s lap.
“Can I play with your toy Petey?” Morgan asks.
“What? The pillow?” Peter looks at Morgan confused.
“No silly, the long toy under the pillow.” Morgan chuckles, only for Peter’s brows to furrow even more, only for you to gasp beside him, hand covering your mouth.
“She’s talking about your dick Peter.” You whisper yell chuckling. Peter’s eyes go wide, face pale.
“It’s-it’s not a toy Morgan.” You try to stop the questions but Morgan just laughs shaking her head.
“Yes it is. You said you were playing a game.” Morgan says, Peter’s jaw clenches as he looks over at you, embarrassment clear on his face.
“Well it’s a big kids toy.” You said, Peter’s mouth falls agape. “Only big kids can play with it, so you’re not allowed.”
Morgan huffs, crossing her arms. “That’s not fair.”
You shrug. “Oh well, I don’t make the rules.”
“Daddy said you and Peter are always hanging out without me and it’s not fair!” You screw yours eyes shut.
“Morgan please—“ you try.
“No!” She snaps. “I’m telling Daddy you and Peter are playing games without me!”
Peter’s eyes go wide. “No Morgan don’t—“
“And Petey, you shouldn’t look at a girl when her boobies are out!” Morgan says, door slamming behind her.
You and Peter stare at the door, mouths agape.
Peter speaks first. “What in actually literal fucking fuck just happened?”
“Peter.” You rest your head on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
Peter’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry I pulled out so rough.” Peter soothes your hair as he rests you down on the mattress, kissing your neck. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You grasp his curls.
“I need you.” You whimper, Peter humming as he slips his hand into the blanket, cupping your dripping heat.
“What about Morgan?” Peter asks, massaging your pussy, soothing the soreness. His finger spreading your arousal, circling your clit.
“She’s just upset, she’ll just watch uhhh something with Pepper.” You said, kissing Peter’s chin, then jaw. “Please Peter.”
Peter kisses your lips, moving the pillow as he opens your blanket back up. His cock didn’t take long to harden again, pre cum dripping on your cunt before rubbing his tip on your clit—
“What the fuck!” A screech comes from the door.
“For fucks sake.” Peter groans covering you quickly as he covers himself with the pillow again. He groans into his hands as you huff.
You hold the blanket tightly. “Please dad, not now—“
“Not now?!” He shrieks, gagging, holding a hand over his mouth. Morgan pops from the corner, making your jaw clench.
“Hugging is one thing. Dating is another thing. Kissing is another-nother thing. But sex!” Tony’s face was contorted in anger, but gagging again.
You hold the blanket close to your body as you notice Peter tense beside you.
“God you should’ve knocked then—I’m really sorry dad but you really don’t have a say at all so please leave.” You speak, avoiding eye contact, causing Tony to chuckle, also avoiding eye contact with you.
“I don’t?” Tony glares at Peter.
“My fucking daughter.” Tony grits, just as Pepper came running in, noticing the scene before her.
“Tony—“ Peter starts.
“It’s Mr. Stark to you.” You nibble on your lip nervously.
“Mr. Stark.” Peter swallows a lump in his throat. “I-I uh—“ Peter was scared to the bone, stuttering over his words.
“Tony, cmon.” Pepper comes to the rescue, pulling Tony’s arm.
“Pepper, Morgan fucking walked in!” Tony said, Pepper nods.
“Language, and we’ll have that conversation later , but their sex life doesn’t concern us.” Pepper states, nodding at you as you smile at her softly.
“That’s my daughter, and there’s a fucking boy spilling his horny hormones all over her and corrupting her.” Tony seethes.
“Firstly if anything, it’s y/n corrupting Peter, and they’re adults Tony. They’ve been dating for months, and you’ve known Peter for years. Stop over exaggerating and give them their space.” Pepper once again pulls Tony’s hand with hers.
“This conversation is not over.” Tony directs at Peter, who gulps.
“but the toy daddy—“ Morgan starts.
“Out Morgan.” Pepper gets both Tony and Morgan out of your room, pushing them away, before turning back to the both of you, awkwardly sitting on the bed.
“Protection always. No “I forgot” or “heat of the moment” bullshit.” Pepper points at the both of you, who nod frantically. “Lock the door.”
And with that the door shuts, you quickly press the screen above the bed, locking the door. Throwing your face into the pillow, groaning loudly.
“Y/n?—“ Peter nibbled on his bottom lip, looking over at you, laying on your stomach.
“That was so embarrassing, I don’t think I’ll ever leave this room—“ you speak, the pillow muffling your words slightly.
“Is your dad going to murder me? Do you think they saw anything?—i-i mean there was the blanket and your leg when I was—“ he itches his chest. You turn your head to the side, so you can see Peter sitting in the middle of the bed, playing with the pillow on his lap.
“They still caught us Peter—oh my god, my dad—“ you fake gag. “why couldn’t it have been Bucky or Nat or literally anyone else—“ you cover your face, your body curling, blanket slipping slightly.
Peter crawled beside you, stroking your jaw, leaning down to pepper your face with kisses. “I’m sorry.”
Your brows furrowed. “Why’re you sorry?”
“It’s my boy horny hormones that wanted to fuck my girlfriend on a dirty ass roof during patrol and didn’t stop talking until we finally did and then her little sister walked in talking about my hormonious dick, and then I still wanted to fuck you after she left and then my girlfriends dad walks in and talks about my dick and then Pepper walks in talking about my dick.” Peter drops his head under yours, face burning, hugging you desperately. “I’m sorry my dick always wants you, baby.”
You were trying your best not to laugh, but you couldn’t help it. Your hand holding Peter’s curls as you tilted his head up to meet your eyes.
“You’re forgetting that I was begging for your dick Peter, my god you’re such a baby.” Peter pouts at your words, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“The room smells and the sheets are covered in sweat and that was probably the best sex ever and i didn’t even cum,” Peter whined, pushing his body further against yours, surprisingly his cocky was still pulsing. “God I’m so tired, and my arms are sore and my legs feel like jello.” Peter was on the verge of tears. You knew Peter well enough to know he cries out of frustration and anger. So what you’re witnessing right now, is a very sexually frustrated Peter.
“Peter.” You soothed, scratching his scalp as you carefully laid him down beside you. Peter looked up at you with big glazed eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”
You gently trailed kisses down his chest, kissing his nipples as Peter sighed. His body was jittery, and sensitive from being so close all night. So it didn’t take long for his cock to stand tall.
You slurped at the precum, tasting yourself as well, making you shake and moan. Peter’s head went back, chest heaving as you took him Ik your mouth. Your eyes looking up, moaning.
“Fuck—fuck—“ Peter’s strangled moans echoed through the room, hand balling the blanket. Arms flexing, as he held the back of your head, bucking his hips up, shaky moans slipping past his lips as his cock hit the back of your throat.
Peter moaned loudly at the sight of your flushed face, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes before slipping down your hot cheeks.
“Oh fuck—so fucking beautiful—“ Peter was groaning, not giving a fuck about how loud he is. He was trying to decide if he wanted to cum in his pretty girls mouth, or watch her ride him and see her fall apart on top of him— “baby, baby—“
You looked up at him confused, a string of salvia coming as you let go of his cock. Your pants making his cock twitch and touch your bottom lip.
“Fuck—baby, ride me please, please wanna see you on top.” Peter was pulling you up, you slipped falling on his chest, before sitting up with a small shy chuckle.
“Thought you wanted to cum—“
“I do, fuck I really do, but I wanna make you cum again, is that okay?” Peter rubbed your thighs, you hummed with a smile, Peter’s coming your heat, pumping a few fingers making you gasp.
Peter bit his lip as you took lead, grasping his cock and lining his tip with your entrance. You sighed shakingly as you sunk down, Peter’s hips bucked making you moan.
“Move baby, god, i won’t last—“ Peter watched as you rode him, your cunt hugging his cock so snug and warm. Your arousal sloshing filled the room making Peter moan, his thumb pressing at your clit.
Your nails scratched down his chest, eyes clenched shut panting.
Peter was trying his best to hold back, wanting to engrave this moment in his mind. You were beyond fucked out, you were marked with hickies on various parts of your body. Your hair a complete mess, your socks snug around your feet, your cheeks flushed and lips wet with his salvia, cum and yours. You were utterly gorgeous.
“I love you baby,” Peter moaned, sitting up to grasp the back of your neck, crashing his lips on yours, his free hand rubbing your clit viciously, instantly sending your over the edge. Your moan muffled by his lips as he bucked at a unruly speed.
“Not in me Peter,” you sighed against his chest, Peter groaned, pulling out quickly, you sat on his thighs, pushing him to lay back down as you twisted your hand a couple times before a low moan erupted from the back of his throat, his cum shooting out, hitting your face and chest, falling on his lower stomach as well.
It was a mess.
Peter’s eyes were fluttering, grinding his hips with your movements as you continued to pump his hard cock as more cum shot out, your mouth agape, as some cum coated your tongue. You swallowed his cum, Peters body curling even more, pushing more cum out, moaning loudly.
Sweat covered his chest as he whimpered. Tears dried on his cheeks, eyes glazed, squirming when you sucked on his sensitive tip, swallowing the cum still leaking.
“Y/n,” Peter whined, shaking in your hand as he watched you climb up, face covered in his cum. “Oh baby, I didn’t mean too—I’m s-so sorry,” Peter reached out for you, being met with your lips on his, tongue going into his mouth.
Peter moaned, slowly coming down from his high as you soothed his hair with your hands. “I love you too,” you mumbled into his lips, feeling Peter’s smile.
You laid on the messy bed as you both cooled down, before stumbling up to clean everything.
You avoided your dad like the plague for a week. Peter however had a lecture/yelling conversation with Tony the morning after. Morgan was confused by the whole situation, but still asks to play with Peter’s toy, which always has Peter flushing and excusing himself from the room in embarrassment.
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blissfulparker · 24 days ago
if you could, please write something where mob! tom has the baby monitor on during a meeting and baby is babbling and she peeps out a “dada” in an upset voice to the nanny and he drops everything for her? sorry if it’s too detailed i can resend it
“Alright,” his hands clasps as he stands up. “Let’s get started.”
Except there was something different about this meeting. Tom kept a low baby monitor on as you recently got a new nanny. Tom being the overprotective father of the year he is, he felt the need to keep a monitor on him as if the nanny cam, maids around the house were not enough.
Tom made it a point for no one to point it out. Anyone spoke of his daughter or even his wife, a simple bullet to their head. He wasn’t giving chances when it came to his family.
“With our new shipment coming for our allies in New York we need—“ he starts talking when the faint sound of a cry cuts him off. He can basically hear your voice telling him to let her handle it, she knows what she’s doing. “With our new shipment coming—“ he starts over but cuts himself off again. The only man who blinks is Harrison, eyes flickering to the monitor and back at his best mate.
“Allies in New York want to expand, considering our recent connections with Italy I think it’s reasonable—“ he carries on but quickly falls lost for words when he hears a soft whimper of ‘dada’ through the monitor. The nanny makes sounds to try and soothe the girl but Tom hears his little girls words clear as day.
“Go.” Harrison rose from his seat, the mob was important but right now being a dad was more important. “I’ve got it.” He nodded, the coners of Toms mouth twitched but didn’t allow a smile to be seen by these men.
The moment those office doors shut tom let out a sigh as he quickly walked down the hall, up the stairs to the nursery where he looked for the nanny but found her situated in the living room instead. He didn’t mind anymore, use to not liking the exposer but you calmed him.
“Mr. Holland I—“ she started and he only shook his head. She was a distressed uni student that needed extra cash, her homework laid out as she watched his baby girl. You trusted her as she was a family friend of yours.
“It’s okay, I just wanted to check on her.” He gave her a smile and she relaxed. Picking up the little girl who resembled so much of you. You who should be home soon and would take her off the girls hands. “Hi Angel.” He kissed the top of her head. She had tears in her eyes but they faded as her little hand clutched Toms suit.
“Can you say dada again? Can you say dada?” He encouraged as he bounced her and she only cooed. You argued from the moment she came out she was a daddy’s girl. Her eyes flickering at tom and not leaving him as soon as she was in your arms, the only thing you had he didn’t was boobs filled with food for her.
“You’re free to go, I know you must be tired with pleanty of work to still do. We’ll still pay you in full Don’t worry.” He smiled at the young girl and she reassured before gathering her stuff and going.
He didn’t watch the girl leave, he only kept his eyes on his little girl who he bounced in his arms. All she wanted was him, predicable.
“Say dada, c’mon.” He tried again but she only closed her eyes as she was sleepy. He stroked her soft cubby cheek until she fell right asleep in his arms, she even slept like you. So relaxed as if there wasn’t a struggle in the world.
“You’ve gotta stop sending the nanny home early.” Your voice suddenly snaps tom out of his staring. Even if you were tired from work, feeling not so sexy as you gave birth six months ago and was still healing, he thought you were an Angel.
“Got done early.” He lied and you saw right through it but was in no mood to push him. “She said dada.” He smiled and you placed a hand on his back.
“Of course she did.” Your cheek rests against his shoulder. “You know, I bet if you had tits leaking with milk she would not even think I existed.” You joked and Tom huffed a laugh but shakes his head.
“Oh stop it, she loves you for more than just your tits.” He says and then looks at you. “I do too by the way.” He reassures and kisses your forehead.
“We created that.” You say in awe as you both stare at her.
“Yeah,” he smiles thinking about it. The women he loves and half of him with half of who he loves is right next to him. “We created that.” He kisses the little girls forehead one more time before taking a trip to her nursery and setting her in the crib.
“Alright,” you pat his chest. “Let’s clock you out of ‘mafia owner tom’ and clock you into to ‘my sexy husband who is the father to my kid’.” You turn to leave the nursery and drag him with as you want him out of the suit and yours for the night.
“Mmh,” he Hums as his eyes can’t help but to look you up and down. “Do I get to clock you out of ‘daytime worker’ to ‘my sexy wife who gave birth to my kid and now their badass mother?’” He lets his hands go to grip your ass and you let out a Yelp before pulling him into the room.
With comfy clothes, you two curl up in the bed. The monitor on and close the whole time as you two take advantage of her sleeping time. You loved her but when she was awake she never wanted any alone time, always needing one of your eyes on her as she liked the attention.
He would drop every meeting for the two of you. Hell he could be in another country and catch the first flight back if he felt he needed it. His whole life was once his mob, but now it was his girls. His girls were his family and he would do anything for them. In the future he knew there would be more, he wanted four but you promised three at most as one Holland baby was a lot to work with already. No matter how many babies you gave, he would love all of them. Most importantly he would love you.
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poguesholland · a month ago
No Sleep | Tom Holland
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It was one of your first times sleeping over at your boyfriends house, Tom. You can’t sleep in bras, but also don’t want to make Tom uncomfortable by taking off your bra, which Tom quickly learns.
Warnings: suggestive themes if you squint.
A/N: I realized that I do a lot of bra related imagines but that’s only because I try to write the most realistic scenarios I can imagine happening. Leave requests for me in my inbox!
“C’mon love, come into bed with me already” Tom whine as you finish your night time routine. You laugh, looking at him through the mirror in the bathroom. He lifts the covers from your side of the bed and pats the mattress as if to signal for you to come lay next to him. “I’m almost done, Tommy” you smile at the adorable man waiting in your bed for you.
You were wearing a silk pajama set from Victoria’s Secret consisting of a pink tank top with pink ruffle shorts. You untied your hair from the bun it was in and closed the bathroom lights, jumping into bed with who you swore could be the hottest man to walk the Earth.
Tom immediately wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close into his body, spooning you. Him being the big spoon and you being the little spoon, as usual. You giggle at his eagerness, leaning into his warmth as he covers you both using the bed sheets.
Deciding to watch some Netflix, you pick a classic and put on ‘Friends’ to fall asleep to. Both of you watch the show peacefully, laughing quietly at the show even though you’ve watched it a million times before. Tom begins to drift off and after a couple of episodes, he’s fast asleep with his head in the crook of your neck.
You quickly take out your phone to open Instagram and take a picture of him, captioning it “My sleepy boy” and posting. This is was normal as you never thought twice before posting on Instagram, you thought it was there for you to enjoy and post random snippets of your life. Mostly pictures of Tom, but his fans weren’t complaining and neither were you.
Two hours go by and you still can’t fall asleep, a feeling of frustration beginning to spread through your body. You decide to just watch the show and eventually, you were going to fall asleep, right? Wrong. Hours passes by and you found yourself still struggling to fall asleep at Three in the morning.
Turning off Netflix, you begin to shift to find a comfortable position to sleep in but failed miserably. You knew why you couldn’t fall asleep but refused to give into it. You can’t sleep with a bra on. It’s impossible for you. Bra’s are way too uncomfortable, painful and just tiring. But the last thing you wanted to do was take your bra off. Why? Because you were too shy to do so around Tom.
It’s not like he would judge you but this was only your second time sleeping over at his place during the summer. In winter, you sleep in an oversized sweatshirt of his so it’s not too noticeable. But you were wearing a thin tank top, so it would be very noticeable this time. The last time you slept over, both of you fell asleep in your clothes because you were exhausted from the long day of press conferences and much more, so you found yourself struggling this time.
You continued to shift, whining in annoyance until you accidentally woke Tom up. “Darling, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you asleep?” Tom groaned sleepily, his voice sounding raspy in your ear and you knew he wouldn’t sleep until he made sure that you were okay. “Nothing Tommy, go back to sleep. Everything’s fine” You whispered to him but shifted again.
The bed creaks as Tom sits up to rub his eyes and gain some consciousness, turning on the lamp on his night stand. “Y/N, Love, it’s Three O-Clock in the morning. Did you not sleep at all?” He questions, peeking at his alarm clock, making you turn around to face him. “No I’m just not that tired” You lie, horribly. You were a terrible liar, which Tom was aware of, and the eye bags under your eyes gave it away.
His hand goes to brush your hair out of your face, “I’m not stupid, love, what’s the matter?”. Tom’s voice is laced with concern as he stares at you pleadingly. You shut your eyes in annoyance with yourself, sighing as you sit up next to the sleepy boy.
“I can’t sleep” You hesitantly admit, sighing while looking away from Tom. “You don’t say?” Tom jokes, smiling sheepishly making you blush in shyly. “Is it because of me? Was I too heavy on you?” He tries to guess, making you feel guilty that he was blaming himself. You turn to face the concerned boy, your hand caressing his cheek with a soft smile on your face, “No, Tommy. You’re fine, my love”.
“Then what is it?” Tom asks again, leaning into the palm of your hand and leaving a kiss on it. “It’s stupid” You huff, hiding your face with both of your hands. “Hey, hey, hey.” Tom leans down to your face, a hand resting on yours to slowly rub his thumb over it. “Y’know you can tell me anything, love. Don’t say it’s stupid, alright?” He coo’s softly.
“It’s just, I- The thing is- I don’t, No- I can’t sleep,” You begin to ramble and uncover your face, looking anywhere but at your boyfriend. “Breathe, darling, breathe.” Tom calms you down by cupping your face and you let out a deep breath, “Now tell me slowly, yeah?”. “I can’t sleep in a bra” You mumble under your breath and Tom furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
“Alright, Um,” He clears his throat before speaking up again, “So maybe don’t sleep in a bra?”. In all honesty Tom didn’t understand where the issue was. “I cant.” You huff and look at him, making eye contact. “Why not, darling?” Tom asks, trying to be as understanding as possible. You shift a bit in place, “Because I’m sleeping over... here”. “And that means that you have to wear a bra to bed?” Tom squints his eyes, trying his best to make sense of what you were saying. You nod like what you were saying made the most sense ever.
Tom licks his lips, “Why’s that again?”. A whine leaves your mouth, not understanding what Tom didn’t understand, “Because you’re sleeping next to me, Tom”. “Yes, and? Darling, I’m a little lost, help me out here” He edges you on. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable” You admit. “By not wearing a bra?” “Exactly”.
“Y/N, why would I be uncomfortable by you sleeping comfortably without a bra?” Tom raises an eyebrow in confusion. “I don’t know, guys usually get weird about girls not wearing bras so I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, I guess” You try to reason but Tom looks at you like you’re speaking gibberish.
Tom shuffles closer to you, a hand of his moving to your waist. “Well, I don’t know what other guys you’re talking about but it doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you feel comfortable, all the time, especially when you’re with me” Tom admits, speaking quietly.
You keep the eye contact, aweing at how amazing the man looking at you is. “If you don’t want to wear a bra, that doesn’t concern me. It’s up to you, my love” Tom caresses your cheek, feeling upset that you put yourself through discomfort just to make sure you don’t make him uncomfortable.
“Tom, are you sure? Because I can just suck it up and wear a bra, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way-” You’re cut off by Tom placing his thumb on your bottom lip, shutting you up as he smiles at how adorable you are. “Yes, I’m a hundred percent sure, darling. Alright? But please talk to me next time, you know you can always be honest with me” and you nod immediately making a smile appear on his face.
Tom leans in to connect your lips slowly, pulling away to see you blush. “Thank you” you say shyly, almost so quiet that he wouldn’t have heard it. “I love you” Tom reassures you, your head resting on his shoulder while looking up at him. You reach your head up to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “And I love you”. Tom cuddles you closer to him, before pulling away and leaving you confused.
“Just a second” He states, his hand reaches behind your back and you feel his warm hand go under the tank top. In one swift motion, he un-clips your bra with just two fingers. You gasp lightly, laughing as he pulls your bra over your arms and throws it on the chair across your room. “How did you-” You turn around to face Tom with an impressed look on your face to see him smirk playfully.
“Look at the time, we better get to bed!” Tom jokes loudly, as if he were avoiding your question. Turning off the lamp, he pulls you in by your waist and slides down the bed in a sleeping position quickly, making you squeal. Pulling the covers over both of you again, Tom leaves a kiss on your neck. “Goodnight, darling” “Goodnight Tommy”. And you swore that the guys you’ve dated before Tom were pigs, not men, after seeing how understanding he was.
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hollandsmushroom · a day ago
Tom asks reader if she wants to go to the movies and then asks her if she'll be wearing a skirt but he tries to be subtle like whispering to her but the boys heard what he said and they are all like: FUCK NO WE DIDN'T WANNA KNOW THAT
The Skirt || T.H.
Warnings: allusions to sex
Word Count: 302
You were sat on a stool that was pulled up to the marble top of your kitchen island, sipping tea that Harry had so kindly made you. It was a slow day, the air in the house warm and soothing your soul, leaving everyone in the house with a sleepy air the whole day. It was a brisk autumn day in London so no one really wanted to go outside, more of a hunker down situation.
“Y/n?” you heard your boyfriend's voice call out to you from wherever he resided in the house.
“Yeah, babe?” you called back, eyes still trained on the phone in your hand, scrolling through instagram, absentmindedly liking random photos.
“Do you wanna go to the movies?” Tom asked, his voice suddenly much closer to you and his lips brushing softly over the shell of your ear as his arms snaked around your waist.
“Yeah, I would love that” you sighed, leaning back into his warm chest as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you ever closer as he buried his face in your hair, mouth still near your ear.
“Are you gonna wear a skirt?” Tom attempted to mumble but it was evident that he failed as Harry tucked his chin back into his neck affrontedly, tea catching in his throat as he spluttered.
“WHAT THE FUCK TOM? I DIDN’T NEED TO HEAR THAT” he exclaimed loudly, pushing back from the island and rushing out of the room still phonanting loudly to express how disgruntled he was.
“WHAT DID HE DO?” Harrison cried.
“DEBAUCHERY, FILTH, UNCLEAN BEHAVIOR!” Harry screamed back causing everyone in the house to laugh. Tom’s lips were still by your ear anad you could feel his smile against your skull.
“So...are you gonna?” he asked again, making you laugh even more.
No taglist cause its so short!
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hollandcrush · 8 months ago
Ok what about tom posting a picture in his bathroom and in the picture you can see the two handprints on the shower stall where you were getting absolutely railed just a few moments ago, and the fans are talking about it on twitter and stuff lmao that would be so funny
ahahha i love your mind !! i had so much fun writing this. hope you like it x (requested part two - sleeping beauty)
in love with an idiot
word count: 893
warnings: slight smut, talk of impregnation, fluff, one booty grab, cursing, and tom being a div.
“Shit, darling.” He panted, reaching his climax. His cock twitching as he unloaded every drop deep into you. Your walls clenched around him, milking him as he painted them white.
The glass was foggy, due to the heat of your bodies and the water that streamed, soothing your sore muscles. Hands were pressed against the glass, along with your chest, as you both came down from your highs.
Once your breathing calmed, and bodies relaxed, Tom pulled out, a mix of arousals seeping out of your core. The sight was pure porn, causing Tom to groan. “If you aren’t pregnant now, I don’t think you’ll ever be.” He chuckled letting the water clean his body.
Your legs were shaky as you stood up straight. Tom wrapped his arms around you, supporting you as he pulled you close to place kisses on your cheek and temple. You giggled at the softness of your boyfriend. “Tommy, what’s your obsession with getting me pregnant. I told you, gotta put a ring on it first.”
He pouted at your statement. “Darling, I’m gonna marry you, but the thought of you pregnant with my kid- fuck.” He moaned against your ear.
You rolled your eyes, quickly cleaning your body with the water. For some reason, shower sex always happened after you went through your routine, too lazy to repeat the process, water would have to do.
Finished, you quickly turned off the jets exiting the shower, Tom following close behind. You grabbed a towel, drying the excess water off your body. Tom began to hum a tune, doing the same. You loved his voice but refused to admit it as you knew he was quite self-conscious about it.
Enjoying his soft voice, you were interrupted by your phone buzzing from the bedroom. You scurried to the sound, leaving Tom to his own demise. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he took a glance in the mirror. And he liked what he saw. He had bulked for a movie and now was cutting. Abs were defined as well as his pelvic bone. Knowing his fans would go crazy, he decided to tease the fangirls and boys with a quick and harmless thirst trap.
Grabbing his phone from the countertop, he opened up the Instagram app, posing in front of the mirror before taking a quick snap. He smirked while pressing the post button. Your voice rang from the other room, talking to a friend about some drama. He quickly fixed up his appearance, drying his hair with the towel before walking to join you in the bedroom.
You bit your lip, phone held up to your ear, not paying attention to your friend anymore as you watched his naked body stroll to the dresser. Unable to resist temptation, you gave a quick grab to his ass as he picked out sweats from the drawer. “Darling!”
A quick laugh slipped from your lips at his reaction before you placed your attention back on the conversation. The only words leaving your mouth were “really”, “no way” as your friend continued her rant. Tom got comfortable on the bed, waiting for your arrival. He watched as you tucked the phone between your ear and shoulder, multitasking as you began to get dressed.
“I will see you soon! Okay. Bye, bye.” You said as you hung up the call. Letting out a huff you threw your phone onto the bed. Tom spread his body, like a starfish, welcoming you to cuddle. You accepted, jumping into his arms. “Oof.” He grunted at the collision. “Lil baby. Weakling.” You mumbled.
Just as you were getting comfortable, Toms phone rang. “Its Harry.” He announced, answering it.
“Mate, how are you?” He quirked seeing the familiar red curls appeared on his phone.
“You are a fucking div.” Harry stated at the oblivious boy. “Yeah mate, you're a proper div.” Harrison's voice added.
“What are you on about?” Tom groaned at their insults. “What did he do now?” You interjected.
“Y/N, you promised you’d babysit him!” Harry exclaimed, causing Tom to furrow his eyebrows. “Babysit me? I don’t need a babysitter. You’re annoying me now Harry.”
“Check your IG.” And with that, he hung up.
You flipped around so your back rested against his chest, to have a better view of his phone. Tom did as told opening up the app, clicking on his new post. He immediately went to the comment section.
tomhollandlover1996: TOM AGSHSJKL NO. WHO IS THE LUCKY GIRL!????
jakegyllenhaal: It hurts to find out this way :( I’ll be sending your lawyers the divorce papers.
tuwaine: someone is having fun... 
“Tom.” You growled, “What did you post?” 
“I just posted a normal picture. Look!” He explained, showing you the pic. At first, your eyes were distracted by his physique but they widened when you noticed the background, jaw instantly dropped. You were in love with an idiot.
“Tom, the glass.” Tom's eyes snapped towards the area in question. “Oh fuck.” He mumbled, his features grimaced realising his mistake, preparing for your lecture.
“You can see the handprints– my tit prints as well. I, I am speechless. How– I mean. Fuck Tom.” You huffed in frustration, annoyed at his careless antics.
He cleared his throat trying to lighten the mood. “So, I guess I should introduce you to my fans. Maybe a cute appreciation post?”
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celestialbarnes · 6 months ago
rumors | t.h
pairing: tom holland x actress!reader
requested: hello, can i have one with tom and actress!reader where you two are secretly dating, and play the game “spill your guts or fill your guts” with james cordon, lots of cute fluff please! your fics are the literal best! thank you
word count: 1.6k
warnings: none, so much fluff! 
a/n: hello! i’m back with a tom holland fic, and it’s my first attempt at writing him, and oh god, i hope it doesn’t flop, had to rewatch james cordon and i didn’t regret it, i hope you like this fic and if you did, please let me know! love you all!
thank you for reading! i really appreciate it love!
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“Please welcome our next guests from Avengers, Endgame, Tom Holland and (Y/N) (L/N)” you took the invitation as a cue to walk out together with Tom, both of you waving towards the roaring crowd, a smile on your face as you took your seat beside Tom.
“So, it’s been a while you two, and since both of you are here, what can you tell us about the latest Avengers movie”. James asked and you laugh, leaning back into the posh chair.
“You’re not wasting any time, are you?” You asked jokingly causing the crowd and Tom to laugh. “Of course not, it’s the most anticipated movie of the year.” James added.
“Thank God they sent you along instead of Mark” Tom said. “He’s coming tomorrow” James says, and the audience laughs.
“Don’t listen to a word he says, it’s not true at all” you say. “What can you tell us?” James asked.
“Well there’s a lot of action packed scenes, and this is the best part, during the last fight, Spider-Man and Iron-“
Before Tom could continue, you placed a hand on his mouth. “No, you don’t” you said, and Tom sighed causing he crowd to erupt into laughter.
“Thank you,” Tom mumbles against your hand.
“I don’t wanna get fired, I really like my job,” you reply as the audience chuckles.
“Come on (Y/N)! He was just about to tell us all about it” James grumbled playfully and you pulled your hand away.
“If he does, then I’m not a very good chaperone”. You joked, and James chuckled.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well you know because Tom needs his juice box,”
“(Y/N)! Not you too” Tom groaned and you laughed.
“So, this movie will combine both new and old cast members, what do you think of that?” James asked.
“I think it’s great because it’s bringing back all the characters that the fans love” Tom said, before bringing his cup of water to his lips.
“And at the same time, it also introduces new characters” You added.
“So quick question here, are there any new relationships springing out?” James asked leaning forward looking at both you and Tom.
“Any romance in the air?” James added, his voice playful and you chuckle, shrugging.
“Not any unless you’re talking about Sebastian and Anthony, then yes there is” you said playfully, everyone laughs at that knowing that the Sebastian and Anthony was known for acting like an old married couple.
Tom glances at you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling, the thing is you and Tom had been dating for a few months now, it had all started from that one kiss scene is the movie, which then lead to a date, then a second date and it didn’t take very long for the both of you to finally kiss again under completely different circumstances, and despite the rumors that were arising rapidly due to the both of you being out together more than usual, you had to applaud you and Tom’s ability to keep it under wraps, that and the rest of the cast members too who had been more than elated when the news broke, god, you and Tom never lived it down.
“We’ll be right back with more from the Avengers!” James said as they cut to the commercial.
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“Would you two mind playing a game?” You and Tom agreed easily, and as you were both led to the table behind a curtain, you groan.
“You gotta be kidding me Cordon” you said as James chuckled as you took a seat at the table, the pungent smell of the food, if that’s what you called food, overwhelmed your senses, you swore you were this close to grabbing the pail beside you already.
You were going to play Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts.
“Alright and we’re back and we’re going to play a little game called Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts” the crowd cheered as the cameras pans over to the table, the audience going “ew” at the food that was displayed in front of the three of you.
“I feel that way too,” you say casually chuckling when the audience laughed.
“So, I will ask Tom a question, then Tom, you’ll ask (Y/n), and she’ll ask me” James said and you nodded.
“And we have to eat this?” Tom asked and James shrugs, “Only if you don’t want to answer the question” the host replies.
“What questions?”
“Ah, that’s the fun part”
“oh god,”
“We have a bird’s saliva, salmon smoothie, crickets, cow’s tongue, a bull’s penis and cod sperm which I’m still not sure how they get” James said and you laugh, and looked towards Tom who visibly gagged.
“Never thought I would throw up on live television” your co-star said as he stared at the crickets.
“Yes Tom those are very real if you’re wondering” James said and you couldn’t help but laugh when Tom leaned back into his chair, almost as if he wanted to place a good ten miles between himself and the food.
“Take a whiff” James said pointing at the fish smoothie, you bit your lip picking up the glass, immediately regretting your decision as you gagged, putting it back down.
“Alright our first question for Tom,” James looked at the card, a smile forming on his face and the crowd laughed. “You’re gonna love the bird’s saliva” James as he turned the table.
“Tom, you’re known for your role as Spider-Man in the Avengers, out of your three co-stars, rank them from your most to least favourite: Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie and Tom Hiddleston”.
“I hate this already” Tom groaned, staring straight at the cocktail. “Tom if you don’t answer this, we aren’t friends anymore” you said laughing when Tom looked at James and then back to the glass.
“I don’t just wanna be friends,” Tom adds as the crowd cheers, and you shake your head, laughing at your boyfriend’s antics.
“Most to least favourite?”
“Yes, unless you fancy some bird’s saliva” James added.
“Sorry you guys but I’m going with Chris, Anthony and Tom, only because I haven’t worked with Tom before”.
“If that’s what you say” James said causing the audience to laugh.
“It’s (Y/N)’s turn, so Tom you’ll ask her a question” You watched as your co-star picked up a card, a grin on his face. “Bull’s penis seems like a good choice” He said and you let out a dry laugh.
“Best hope it isn’t yours” you said out loud as James laughed.
“Really love?”
“(Y/N), you’ve been in a few movies and television shows” Tom said pausing to chuckle, shaking his head. “Which would you say is the worst to work on” And you groaned.
“Answer it” James said in a sing song voice. You picked up a slice of the penis, smelling it before frowning, your eyebrows furrowing as you stared at the not so foreign object dangling in front of your face.
“You can’t be serious!”
“I, I have the answer but I’m not gonna, I can’t say it” you replied, biting into it.
“I can’t watch” James said, Tom was laughing watching as you spit it out, taking a large gulp of water.
“That was disgusting,” you groan, picking up a card and looking towards James, a grin on your face.
“James, cow tongue sounds great don’t you think?” you said, spinning the table stopping it when the dreaded delicacy stopped in front of the host who groaned.
“James out of the two of us here at the table, which of us is the better actor” you asked laughing.
“Who is writing these?!”
“Don’t worry James, just pick one of us, but if you don’t pick me, we’re gonna have a problem”. Tom said with and James laughs.
“That is so unfair,”
“No it’s not darling, you know you love me more too,”
“I’ll have to go with Tom and I say that because he’s been on the show before” James said.
“I’ve been on the show before” you said, exasperated.
“Just ask the next question James” Tom says jokingly and you rolled your eyes playfully watching as he pouted.
“Come on love, you know you’ll always be my favourite” Tom says causing the crowd to go “aww” you laugh shaking your head.
“So, the last one is a bonus question for both you and (Y/N)” James said picking up a card.
“You’ll both have to eat the cricket if Holland here doesn’t answer the question” James with, spinning the table so you were both faced with the glass bowls that were filled to the brim with said crickets.
“We shall see” James chuckled as he read the question.
“There’s no way Tom’s gonna answer this” the host howled in laugher.
“I swear Tom, I’m not eating that” you said pointing toward the bowl, refusing to look directly at it.
“Oh, you will” James said with a grin.
“Thomas, there have been rumours of you dating an Avengers co-star, is that true?” James asked, huge grin on his face.
“Answer, answer,” James started, egging the crowd on at they encouraged Tom to answer the big question, to which the brunette simply chuckles, picking up a cricket and handing it to you.
“Cheers,” you tease bumping your cricket with his before the both of you ate it.
“Does this mean you two are dating?”
“I have no idea,” you reply laughing when James replies with a “Come on!”.
“No spoilers this time mate” Tom says, a boyish smirk on his face as he places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close, the crowd going wild as the cameras slowly pans out.
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taglists are open! feel free to fill in the taglist form (link in bio) / drop me an ask to be tagged in my fics!
a/n: that’s the end! this is my first tom fic, i really really hope that it isn’t so bad, and if you liked it, please let me know, thank you love!
leave some feedback?
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449 · a day ago
ships in the night, a series | one.
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summary ↦ europe always sounds nice when you’re going through an existential crisis. but when fate has you running into the same handsome (and slightly annoying) stranger over and over again, you get more out of your trip than you ever bargained for.
pairing ↦ golfer?tom?? x female reader
word count ↦ 1k
chapter warnings ↦ some swearing, grammar trainwreck, possibly an inaccurate french translation
a/n ↦ here we are lol my first long form fic so please don’t yell at me!! this is not based on ‘before sunrise’ but it lowkey kinda turned out to be? aaand technically it is golfer!tom but that detail isn’t really important to the story (💔), more so the fact that he isn’t famous! if you hate cliches then this is definitely not the story for you. anyway! hope you enjoy <3
» series masterlist «
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the first time you run into tom, it’s right before golden hour hits on a mid-may evening. you can't remember the exact date; but you do remember that it happened in a cramped travel bookstore right off of pont d'arcole.
you’d decided to hit pause on college for a semester. it wasn’t out of the blue – you always knew you would come to france at some point, so you’d been saving up for some time now. it just happened sooner rather than later.
the last few months had served as the breaking point. the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. burnt out from the expectations, stress, and the constant, nagging feeling that you had to have your life perfectly planned out, you did what you always did best: you ran. you dropped everything and one week later, you were in the city of lights. or love? maybe both.
the single silver lining in your spiral had been, ironically, the timing of it all. it was just before the tourists swarmed through for the summer, the weather was amicable, and you’d been staying with your best friend for the past few weeks, since she was here to study abroad for a semester.
right now, you're leaning against a well-worn bookshelf, engrossed in the pools of glimmering images tucked between cream pages. you're far too comfortable to notice the way your fingers slip behind the paper, instinctively indulging yourself in an action you know you shouldn't do.
“y’fold it, y’buy it.”
the gruff english accent triggers your body to seize up for a second before your eyes locate the source of the voice.
and that’s when you see him: a handsome, harmless-looking brunette standing by the bookshelf opposite you, just a few steps away. not exactly the kind of person you’d associate such a voice with. he has on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a well-worn linen shirt that's tinged a subtle shade of pink, with the sleeves haphazardly rolled up to wrap around perfectly tanned forearms.
did he work here? how did he know you spoke english? has he been there this whole time? more importantly, how did you not notice him earlier??
you blink, snapping yourself out of the way your mind had practically just shorted itself over seeing a cute guy. then you're reminded of the comment that started it all in the first place, and your gaze drifts back to the open travel book in front of you. you’d been so stuck in your own headspace that you didn’t even realize you’d dog eared a page with photos of a place called le rocher.
mortification quickly sinks into your skin as the situation finally clicks.
“oh! shoot, fuck, i’m so sorry,” you mutter, fidgeting with the book as you try to undo the fold. but it’s too late. the mark won’t disappear. “it’s a habit of mine that i can’t seem to kick and i just got so into the book that i didn’t even – fuck - here, actually, how much is it? i’ll go pay at the counter right now.”
you close the book and tuck it under your arm, now on a mission to retrieve a couple crumpled euros from your purse.
the stranger’s book closes shut, and he looks just as startled as you are as he watches you fumble through your bag for your wallet.
“wait — no, no! you're good. or i mean, 'cause i don’t… actually work here.” the same english accent reaches your ears, but the voice is apologetic this time, a little higher, and much, much softer.
you take your attention away from your treasure hunt with a slight raise of your brow. only then do you notice the lifeless backpack tossed on the floor by his feet, a couple books stacked next to it and one more clutched in his right hand.
“i’m sorry. i didn’t think you’d react like that,” the boy begins, looking a little sheepish now as he awkwardly scratches the nape of his neck. “it’s just… i don’t remember the last time i’ve seen anyone look so invested in a book, and –”
“and what, you thought interrupting me was the brilliant thing to do?” you snap, your cheeks beginning to flush in both embarrassment and anger at the entire ordeal. you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, detaching yourself from the bookshelf to move out of your little nook and past his taller figure.
“i’m sorry. really.” he apologizes again as you begin to move. “you were in the zone and i completely ruined that for you. it’s just – you looked kinda pretty all concentrated like that and i just wanted to get your attention somehow...”
you pause in front of him mid-ramble, shooting him a confused look. was this guy for real right now?
the stranger reads your expression, and you can see the way his body viscerally reacts, his eyes widening and the tips of his ears turning a shade of crimson. “oh, fuck me. i did not mean to say that out loud  – i mean, not actually fuck me, obviously, that would be extremely rude and inappropriate to say right now –”
“oh my god, please, just stop talking.” you blurt in exasperation, hand coming up to his mouth to cover it. another customer wanders down the aisle, observing the two of you with a confused look as he walks by. you quickly move your hand, letting it hold on to the book instead as you take half a step back.
“i'm sorry." the boy apologizes again, his hands raised in surrender. "at least let me buy the book for you, darling. i really do feel bad.”
you almost let him. a new book for free? why would you ever say no? but you're perfectly capable of purchasing your own books... and you certainly didn't need a winston churchill here to do it for you out of pity. you let your pride and a healthy dose of skepticism govern your final answer:
“save the charity, prince william. and move while you’re at it. please.” you give him a curt smile as you use the back of your hand to gently push him out of your way.
a smirk pulls up the corner of his lips in amusement at the name, but you just barely miss it.
as you walk past rows of mahogany-colored bookcases, you fight the urge to turn around and see his face one more time. but you make it, you survive, and you gently slip the hefty travel book across the counter for the sales associate to ring up. you half expect the stranger to come after you one more time, but it never happens.
“huit euros,” the old man simply states, and you hand him the cash you’d fished out earlier.
with a quick merci, you walk past the counter and out of the shop, the delicate wind chimes clinking against the door to signal your departure.
and just like that, it’s all over. you’re out of each other’s orbits again, like two ships passing in the night.
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uglypastels · 2 months ago
Plan, Interrupted // t.h.
(a/n) there's nothing like coming up with 50 different fic ideas while trying to write one for months, haha, but after getting the prompt from the amazing @worldoftom I could not not write this!! Thank you so much, B, for thinking of me and helping me brainstorm :') and thanks to @duskholland and @lilbeatlebear for the constant support (gods know, I needed it haha) and an apology beforehand for any kind of questionable choices in the writing. idk what i was thinking, but i do think it turned out pretty well.
word count: 22.5k
warning: (enemies>lovers... if you squint... maybe) shitty family drama, rich people behaviour, chaotic driving, alcohol consumption, swearing, public nudity, smut > 18+, minors please DNI (intoxicated, semi-public making out, oral (m), d/s dynamics but also switch, riding, and idk how to do this.
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It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.
“What do you guys think? Does this one make me look fat?” Your sister asked as she spun around for what felt like the millionth time. You let your head fall back as you tried to reach for the last drops of champagne that had stayed behind in your tall glass.
“y/n!” You almost knocked your own teeth out as your mother nudged you in the arm.
“What?” you hissed back at her, putting the glass down on the little table. Its relatively modest surface was occupied mainly by your plate, which used to hold several small (too small, in your opinion) pieces of wedding cake testers. Honestly, you did not understand why you had to be there anyway. No one listened to your opinion. Obviously, the red velvet with cream cheese filling and blueberry jam was the best. Who, in the actual fuck, would want to eat carrot cake at their wedding?
Well, your sister. That’s who.
“So, what do you think?” your sister just kept on twirling, whipping her veil over her head dramatically.
“It’s ugly,” you said, not even looking at the dress. For the first six dresses, you tried to look for the differences, but at some point, it all just started to blur into one big ball of organza, glitter and lace. And it was all just so white.
“y/n!” your mother gasped once again. It seemed to be the only word leaving her mouth lately.
“I’m sorry, it is.” You shrugged, “I liked the first one better.”
“Oh, let her be, momma,” your sister waved your mother off, interrupting her before she could snap your neck off, “she’s just sour because she doesn’t have a wedding to plan… or even a boyfriend for that matter.” She started twirling in Ugly Dress No. 35 in the shade Eggwhite Puke before she saw the glare you gave her.
That was the reason you were there. Not for moral support, not for your opinions or ideas, but to make sure that everyone around you knew that your sister was the pretty successful and happily engaged one; meanwhile, you were alone, bitter and getting drunk on cheap champagne in the middle of the day.
You were going to say something, even had a thought of throwing some bits of frosting at her, but at that exact moment, you got a text message from your friend, asking if you wanted to go out for drinks. How could you possibly say no to that?
“I gotta go, see ya later,” you said while responding to your friend you would meet her at your regular meeting spot. Then, without even looking up at the rest of the bridal party or waiting for their response, you made sure to leave quickly.
New York had been getting warmer and warmer, and the streets of the Upper East Side were bustling with people trying to get from one destination to the other. For once, you were glad to get sucked into the stream of commuters, actually feeling free compared to what you had to endure in the bridal shop with those familial piranhas.
Your phone started vibrating in your pocket as you crossed the street, avoiding a cab that didn’t know what a red light was. You picked up the phone, and it was your friend, the same one who had just texted you a minute ago. You were still flipping the cab driver off when your friend asked where you were.
“Oh my god, Rebecca, I’m literally two minutes away. Calm down.” You said as you walked at a faster pace, keeping up with everyone around you. Though, apparently, you had been still walking a bit too slow for some, as a man caught up to you, bumping into your shoulder.
“Look out, asshole,” you mumbled, but the man apparently heard you because the next second, he turned around. For a second, you were scared he was going to kill you (this was New York, after all). Then you were surprised by his perfect jawline, which was a bizarre observation to make about a stranger who could still kill you.
You remembered that you were still in a phone call with your friend, and you made sure that the man could see if you had a witness to whatever might happen. But, unfortunately, he stood still in front of you.
“What did you just call me?” Oh, he had an accent. So he wasn’t American, good. And it also explained why he stood in the middle of the road. Anyone else, who was from here, would have just kept on walking…. Or would have pushed you even harder.
“I called you an asshole,” you smiled sweetly, feeling a surge of confidence come out of nowhere. “Now excuse me, I got places to be.” The confidence clearly worked because you passed by him and left the man standing, most likely making him unsure of what had just taken place. You made your way through the rest of the street wearing that Bad Bitch attitude, feeling like no one could come even close to you.
"Ok, what the hell was that?” Shit, you still had Rebecca on the phone.
“Sorry, some fucker bumped into me. He actually stopped and called me out. Can you believe that? Ugh, men.”
“I know what you mean, honey. But… was he hot?” Of course, that was the only thing Rebecca could think about. But, unfortunately…
“Not only that, Beck, he had an accent.” you were exactly the same. That’s why your friendship worked so well. Rebecca gasped at the news.
“Can you go back? Get his number oh my god, y/n-”
“I am not doing that. Did I not just tell you that he was an asshole? Besides,” you looked behind you to see if he was anywhere in sight, “he’s probably far away now. And I’m almost there. No point in going back.”
“So what if he’s an asshole? We both know that it’s the problematic ones that are the best in bed,” she said, almost matter-of-factly, to which you could only roll your eyes. Half because her words were absolutely ridiculous, and a half because, though absurd, still very accurate.
You were nearing the restaurant now and could already see Becky sitting at your usual spot, at the high bar bench that faced the window. It was the best spot to look at the people on the street and judge them with great velocity.
She waved at you as you walked inside. Then, before you could say anything or even give her a hug, she sat up straight with a solemn expression laid across her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked exactly what you had been planning on asking her.
“Nothing?” you asked yourself, more like, “why would anything be wrong?”
“Because I could practically hear your eye-roll back there, and the only reason when you’re so against hooking up with hot foreign guys is when you’re angry… and the fact that I snatched you away from your sister’s wedding dress shopping gave me a few ideas on how you might be feeling. So, I already ordered for you.” It was then that you noticed the large cup of coffee on the table next to you. With a relieved sigh, you sat down and took a large sip of the hot drink, which most definitely burned your tongue, but you didn’t care at that particular moment. The extra hint of... spice didn't go unnoticed by you either.
“So, what happened?” Rebecca watched you drink, most likely concerned for your tastebuds and mental wellbeing.
“We had to look at a hundred ugly dresses. She had decided to go for this Princess Diana on crack look; it’s actually ridiculous. I drank as much champagne as possible, and my family did not miss a single opportunity to tell me that I’m the lesser child.”
“You’re not, though,” she reminded you, though you didn’t need it. Maybe it was a delusion, but you never saw anything in your sister that made her so much better than you… except for the fact that now, she will be Mr and Mrs Stone Cold Bitch. You drank your coffee, with the interludes of pouring your frustrations out on poor Rebecca.
“I just… I wish something would happen that would take them all down a notch. I- I want to fuck up the wedding.”
Rebecca thought about your words for a moment. “I’m invited to this wedding, right?”
“I think so?”
“Then yes, you should definitely do it.” This was followed by a gasp, “you should totally sleep with her fiancé!” The exclamation made a few people around you look up from their own conversations.
“No. Ew,” you had met your sister’s husband-to-be, Derek, and you had never been particularly impressed, “besides, I don’t want to ruin their marriage, she’s still my sister, and I still love her, but-” you halted.
“But what?” Rebecca blinked; her cup of coffee was only an inch from her mouth as she awaited the rest of your sentence.
“I also want her to be miserable for a bit, my whole family for that matter. I want something to happen that will make everyone talk about it. Something that people who weren’t even invited will talk about-”
“You should get a streaker!” she almost shouted, once again a bit too enthusiastically considering you were in a restaurant for a late brunch. There were more conspicuous glares thrown your way.
“A what?”
“A streaker, you know, a naked guy with a trenchcoat.” Rebecca saw your apprehensive face, “Imagine, beautiful reception, and suddenly this naked guy comes running in! It’s gonna be hilarious and most important… no one will be able to forget it.” Her words stuck well in your mind. You could already imagine it: your entire family freaking out as some stranger runs in, ruining everything. It wouldn’t be surprising if someone fainted out of pure shock. Drinks would be spilt, food would be dropped… pure chaos.
It could be perfect.
“That is actually a great idea,” you grinned at your best friend. “But how will I get someone to do it?”
“Please, this is New York; you could throw a rock and hit five perverts walking down the street who’d be willing to do it.”
“But that’s the thing, I don’t want some pervert that will go and harass my cousin or some shit, just a quick run through the ballroom and leave,” you explained, leaving the both of you to think about options for a moment.
“Hire an actor.” Rebecca said, finally, “take out an ad in the paper or something; I’m sure someone would be interested and hey, if they act, chances are they might be slightly good looking too.” She nudged you in the side suggestively, but you ignored that last bit. Her suggestion, however, just like all the previous ideas, had been pretty good. You could write up a little ad, maybe even search through craigslist (although that still leaves a high pervert probability).
Eventually, together with the help of Rebecca, you wrote up a quick ad. Not too long, since news ads were expensive. You also thought it would be wise to get a prepaid phone to set up as a contact, so no weirdos had a way to contact you directly.
“Ooh, I feel like we’re in a spy movie,” Rebecca squealed as you left the store with the new phone.
“Calm down, Becks, this isn’t Ocean’s 8… more like… Wedding Crashers.”
“Still cool,” she shrugged.
Later that day, you found yourself behind your computer, trying to find out how in the hell does one put an ad in a newspaper or any kind of shared media that people might be reading. You had to make sure it wasn’t something widely known, so none of your family might accidentally stumble upon it, but read widely enough for someone to read it and catch interest. You had sat down at your desk, a large glass of red wine at hand. It had been a while since your champagne binge at the wedding parlour, and you could feel your mind unfogging throughout the day, which was highly unnerving. To go through with this plan, you could not be thinking clearly. It was an insane idea, and you could not start thinking over the consequences now.
After going through the ideas you and Rebecca had come up with and a few drafts, you managed to format a simple, hopefully compelling, message:
Be Naked At My Sister’s Wedding
My sister is having an outdoor wedding in New Canaan, CT, in July. I want someone to be naked in the woods and run through the wedding in order to ruin it. I will protect you from my family.
If interested, for further information, please contact:
Followed by the number of your freshly bought burner-cell phone. The glamour of taking out an advertisement in the press was that, as long as you paid enough money, you could get anything printed, and no one would even be questioning it. Another great point- it was anonymous!
You looked at the message, and maybe the alcohol had not hit yet, but the longer you looked at it, the worse you felt. It all just felt a little bit off. You couldn't do this to your sister. As much as she pissed you off, this wedding was an important day for your family, and you couldn’t be the person to ruin it for all of them. This was insane.
You had your finger on the button to send the ad off to the printers, then stopped. But you couldn't delete it just yet either. Not sure what to do, you saved the file with the ad draft and turned your computer off.
Although you had felt confident about pursuing the plan at first when talking about it with Rebecca, the following days only made you more uncertain. You had hoped to take a few days before doing anything. It was better; you had learned through experience that it was never good to act on initial emotions. In the restaurant, when the plan came to be, you had still been angry and upset at your family. You wanted to see them rot in the pits of hell.
Now, that need was not as high. You were feeling better, so you decided to put the plan away for now. But it didn’t mean, however, that you didn’t stop thinking about it.
That weekend, you had a few errands to go through in the Theatre District, so you had decided to go search for a little kiosk that might be selling the kind of reading material that you were searching for. Something local to the area that was sold and read thoroughly by its targeted audience. Clumsy you had never saved the original page that you wanted to send the ad to so you were in need of a new backup.
This way, if the plan was set in motion, you had a place to send your advert in. just as a precaution. The wedding was less than a month away, and you were intending on having it all very well planned out if the opportunity just so happened to take place.
You had found a little kiosk at the corner of the sidewalk. An old man smoking a cigarette was looking through a Vogue magazine that must have been at least a few years old. The sight of the outdated article made you a bit apprehensive, so you decided to keep walking in search of another vendor.
This one, you found only a few blocks later. It was a woman selling magazines, and she was eating a candy bar. Her bright red hair was in stark contrast to the dark inside of the vendor’s booth.
“How can I help ya?” she said, smacking her chocolate-covered lips.
“What would you say is the best-selling magazine here? That is like… local to the neighbourhood?” You asked, already looking at the extensive showcase.
“Hmm,” the girl stuck her head out from over the counter to look as well. “I’d probably say that one,” she pointed at a magazine right at your eye level. It was independent publishing, from the looks of it. On the cover was a large mask, which looked very intriguing. Interested in it yourself now, you decided to buy a copy and being led by the growling noises of your stomach, you decided to buy one of the candy bars that the girl had been eating.
“Make that two,” you added to your purchase quickly. The girl gave you your total, which you promptly paid for and then stashed your newly bought items in your bag. Then, with a quick smile, you said goodbye to the redhead and made your way to get the rest of your business done.
Once you had everything else taken care of, with a few shopping bags occupying your arms and not really feeling like walking all the way back to your apartment, you stood at the side of the street, trying to catch a taxi. The cars passed by you without a second of hesitation. It felt like you had never seen so many occupied taxis next to each other at the same time. After what must have been an eternity, one cab finally stopped at your feet. You got inside and told the man your destination.
The man, thankfully, didn’t make any attempts at conversation, even when you got stuck in the usual traffic jams. Feeling a bit bored, you decided to look at some of the articles in the publication you had bought. The pieces that the issue covered were spread over several topics, making it hard for you to determine the purpose or target audience. It wasn’t really something you would have ever picked up under any other circumstance. But, you had to admit, they were all very well written.
It also made one thing clear- none of your family had ever heard of it. Perfect.
You couldn’t be bothered to read the articles at that point, merely flipping through them. The advertisements were on the last few pages, and you realised that many more people had ideas like you, all with the same kind of audience in mind. For example, people were looking for actors to play roles in their college films; a woman was looking for a date for a wedding; another ad sounded very much like the writer was looking for a hired gun, but you decided to ignore that one.
But the longer you looked at all these other advertisements, the more you started to doubt this plan you had concocted. You had too much to drink that day, that was for sure, and you hadn’t been thinking clearly, which was sort of the point. When you looked at these cries of attention on the glossy pages, it got you to believe that maybe this was a bit desperate. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea. Now, you still had time to stop it. You had not sent anything in yet, and maybe that had been for the better.
You kept that idea in your mind, started reading a review about the off-off-Broadway production of Bob Ross - the Musical and were debating whether or not you should buy tickets for it next week when the driver pulled up to the curb of your destination. You paid him, feeling generous on the “No talking”- tip and got out. Your apartment was half a block away, which felt doable to do with your nose in the pages of the magazine. Was it a magazine? The format didn’t precisely expose that, but it didn’t feel like a journal or a newspaper either. Anyway, you made your way down the street reading and almost bumped your forehead against the door of your building once you had arrived.
“Oh, miss y/n!” Charlie, the security man of your building, quickly got up from his seat as you walked through the main hallway. You glanced up from another article (Pizza Rat- Myth, Legend, or Nuisance?) at the sound of your name.
“What is it, Charlie?”
“Your sister is here to see you. She, uh, came in just a few minutes ago. I thought you’d ought to know.”
Shit. “Thank you, Charlie,” you smiled appreciatively. Charlie nodded and sat back down as you made your way to the elevator. What, in the actual fuck, was your sister doing here? Hadn’t you made it perfectly clear that your apartment was yours and not a hospitable resort for your family? You did not want them there. If they wanted to meet up, they could reserve a table at Le Bernardin. But that was, supposedly, a disadvantage of living off of your parents and getting an apartment with their money. It was never an exclusively-you situation. They, and for some reason also your sister, felt entitled to unpredicted visits.
Not feeling ready to be stuck in a room with your sister, you remembered the candy bars you had bought at the kiosk and quickly unwrapped one of them. You were mid your first bite when the elevator doors opened. Once you stepped out, you were greeted with the image of your sister lounging on the large white sofa, a glass in her hand, flipping through magazines. She hadn’t looked up at the sound of the elevator ding, so you quickly stashed your newly purchased piece of reading into your bag while holding onto the candy bar like it was life support.
Right as you closed the zipper of your bag, did she look in your direction.
“Ah! There you are!”
“Yup, here I am. Here you are, too, I see.” You smiled with gritted teeth.
“Yes, sorry if this isn’t the best timing-”
“It actually really isn’t-” you tried to say, but she didn't listen and just kept on yapping.
“I just had to come and see you. After the dress shopping- well, I wanted to know if you were doing OK. Make sure we’re still good.” She put her glass down on the table, only an inch away from a coaster, and it was then that you noticed a white and blue cardboard box on your coffee table. Your sister saw the look you gave the strange new object and reached out for it in glee.
“Oh yea, I almost forgot. I popped by Lady M and got us a few goodies- although now I’m thinking, you must be good.” You noticed the glare she had shot you as you were taking another bite of the candy bar when saying that, and it made your blood boil. It was as if the opportunities to ridicule you were actually coming at her. As if she was a beacon, or a giant magnet, for bitchy comments.
As your sister started to munch away on a bonbon, you sat down in one of your chairs, as far away from her as possible. You stared, probably a bit too obviously, as she sat there. Was it too much of an expectation to think she had something to say to you?
“So why are you here exactly?” you said, trying not to look at all the candy in the take-out box and just focus on the one you were eating.
“Mm, I told you already,” your sister wiped the corner of her mouth, “I wanted to see how you are. You seemed really upset yesterday.”
“Well, I was; one can only take up so much in a day. Was kind of tired of how everyone was belittling me, you know?” As you said that, you felt your shoulders slack, and your back hit the rest of the chair. Your sister moved over on the couch and leaned up to you. Her face showed a small smile, but it was a kind one. One filled with compassion- a sure rarity in your family.
"Oh, honey, please don’t think that.” She patted her hand on your leg, and for a brief moment, a surge of guilt flew over you, feeling horrible that you had been this close to ruining her big day… but just for a moment.
“You know how mom is; she isn’t as… understanding when it comes to certain things. But you know I completely support you.” She gave you a sweet smile, which was confusing since you had the feeling as if she had just insulted you. You didn’t know where the insult was hiding, but you could sense it nearby. Your sister picked up another piece of fancy candy that most likely cost more than the number of calories it had in it, which to you, never felt like a good diet.
“What do you mean?” you eventually dared to ask.
“Oh, you know, not many girls would be so comfortable being single, especially when there’s so little else wrong with you.” You could feel a muscle in your face twitch at each word that came from your sister’s mouth, and it only got worse the longer she went. The guilt now trickling out of you at a steady pace. “So it’s really quite commendable how you parade your bachelorette life like that. God knows I would never be able to do it. I mean… I’d probably not even dare to leave the house knowing that nobody wanted me… So it is, truly, very… empowering, in fact, mhm.” she looked up at you from her fourth bonbon.
You wanted to scream in her face but instead opted for a polite, very much forced, smile while your fingers were wringing themselves around the corner of a throw pillow. A pillow, which also gave you a great urge to smother her with it. To think that there was a second in which you had thought that maybe this could be a normal conversation. That your sister actually was concerned about you.
No, that would have been absolutely ludicrous. And now you were stuck listening to her stating these backhanded comments at you. The longer it went on, the more you had to hold yourself together not to say anything back. You had to keep it together, but that band that held it all in one place was without a doubt getting tighter and tighter until- you finally snapped.
"Can you shut up for like one fucking second,” you sneered, making your sister look perplexed. The bonbons in the box were almost all gone.
“Excuse me?” She blinked in bewilderment.
“Just shut up. I’m so tired of hearing you talk, the whole family actually. Why can’t any of you accept that I’m happy with what I’m doing? Why, whenever someone has something to say about me, it has to be these unbelievably pretentious comments that actually make me want to-”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” your sister waved you off. She wasn’t even listening to you. You could tell.
“I’m serious.”
“You know what,” your sister scoffed, “maybe mom was right.”
“About what?” Oh, yet another conversation about you that had been held behind your back. You were absolutely ecstatic to hear what the topic of this one was. Would it have been your presumed alcoholism? Perhaps another entirely different fictitious addiction? Or maybe your mother finally managed to convince your entire family that you had joined a convent, which seemed to be the only acceptable reason for you not to be in a relationship.
“Mom had suggested that maybe it would be better if you, uhm, didn’t come to the wedding.”
“Excuse me?” Now it was your turn to blink at her in disbelief.
“Of course I was against it, how could you not come to the wedding? You’re my sister! But momma believes that your energy might be slightly… off-putting.” And apparently, this was the moment she decided it was time to go (perhaps because she ate the last bonbon) and got up to grab her jacket. You followed her like a disgruntled chihuahua.
“How can you uninvite me from your wedding?”
“Just the ceremony, you still get to come to the reception, of course. And you can still sit at the main table during the party, c’mon, y/n.” She put on her jacket.
“You’re actually doing this?” This hurt. Sure, you hated your family sometimes, certainly at this moment, but that’s what families did! But what made you a family was that you could put this hatred aside. So, for example, at the wedding of your back-stabbing bitch of a sister and her good for nothing husband… you wanted to be there and support her in any way you could.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, y/n. We both know you can be a bit… testy, sometimes. I mean, look at you now. Mom said that's precisely how you would be. Of course, I was trying to prove her wrong, but…
“Oh, so all that I care for you bullshit was just that? Bullshit?” you asked, confused. But, of course, it made perfect sense. Your sister and mother had put on a bet to see if she could crack you and make up a reason not to invite you to the wedding. Fucking parasites, each and every one of them.
“No, not at all. I did want to see if you were ok. But you have to admit, y/n, that you haven’t been in the greatest state lately. I mean, just look at yourself now. But I would still love it if you came to the party. After all, we are sisters.” She then proceeded to extend her arms in the form of an embrace. When you didn’t move, she, somewhat aggressively, pulled you into the hug. Once she pulled away, she gave you another one of those psychopathically sweet smiles and finally went off to the elevator. As she walked away, her “Toodeloooo” echoed through the corridor.
Once you heard the doors of the elevator close, you fell face-first onto the sofa and screamed as long as you could until your lungs started to burn.
That night, after your sister had left and a few glasses of wine later, you found the website of the writing you had purchased. It had taken you a while, but you found the section in which you could send in an advertisement. Maybe another "You" would have given up after hearing the news you got degraded to a second-class family friend, but after everything that had happened with your sister, you were adamant about ruining everything. Perhaps a mental professional would call it a concerning obsession, but that is precisely why you didn’t do therapy.
The wedding would be taking place on July 30th. You had sent out the first ad somewhere at the end of June. The first one, because clearly one did not suffice. You had not received any results from that. The longer it went on, without any results, the more you started to doubt your plan. It was very much possible that this was a sign not to go through with it.
A sign you decided not to listen to. In fact, as the days went by, you felt more and more in need of ruining the damn wedding.
While waiting for a phone call from the ad, all you were getting were messages from your family. It was possible that you, in a slightly drunken state, had sent a not so nice message into the family group chat. After this fiasco, your family felt obligated to get the situation cleaned up.
Not for you, though. No, god no, that would have been ridiculous. Your mother could simply not have her excellent reputation smudged, especially not by her own daughter. So, by making your sister and father spam you with repetitive messages and trying to call you, she really thought she was doing something. If only any of these messages actually included an apology, not just attempts at getting you to be quiet.
y/n don’t be so dramatic and just come to lunch with us.
It is really not a big deal; I mean, cousin Fred isn’t coming to the ceremony either.
Oh, for god’s sake, y/n, get over yourself!
You were particularly fond of that last message, even thinking about putting it as your new alarm sound. You could not put it together that your family was putting you on the same level as crazy cousin Fred, who you had not seen in probably ten years, and the last you heard about him was that he had been stuck in some sanatorium after being rescued from a ferret-worshipping cult in Iowa. But now that you thought about it… the cult didn’t sound like a bad idea.
But the days passed, one after the other, and you had received no responses from your ad. Finally, one night, after a long phone call with Rebecca and about half a bottle of Chardonnay, you started to question everything.
“Maybe I deserve it,” you had also just ordered yourself some food and were stuffing fries into your mouth as you talked, “Am I that intolerable, Beck?”
“I wouldn't say intolerable, no. But listen,” you had the feeling she sat up straight, so you did the same, “Maybe you deserved to get kicked out of the ceremony, I mean you have been acting a bit like a bitch but!” she interrupted herself exactly where you were planning on stopping her. Somehow, her words just didn’t feel very supportive at the moment.
“But,” she continued, “there is no excuse for them to treat you like complete shit, which is clearly the reason that you have been so upset, and, I’m sorry, but your entire family are morons if they don’t see that.”
“Thank you,” you sniffed, “I needed to hear that.”
“You’re welcome.” What followed was a minute of silence as both of you ate until Rebecca asked her next question, “So have you heard from anyone yet?”
“No,” you sighed heavily, “Absolutely nothing.”
“I’m sure someone will contact you.”
“I highly doubt it; it’s been four weeks. The wedding is in three days. If someone calls me now, it would be a-”, and at that exact moment, almost as if it was some cosmic joke, you could hear the burner cell phone ring on your kitchen counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you mumbled as you got up to check it.
“What? What just happened?”
“I think someone’s calling.” You said, feeling very detached from everything that was happening.
“Oh my god, oh my god, keep me up, put me on speaker!! Did you answer yet?” Rebecca kept on rambling, making you even more nervous.
“No- wait.” Before the person had a chance to hang up, you rushed to answer them; as you said, “Hello?” you put your regular phone down and put your call with Rebecca on speaker so she could hear what you were doing.
“Hey, is this the person that put in the ad about the uhm wedding performer?”
You couldn’t help but smile at their choice of words. It was smart, in case he had called the wrong number.
“Yes, this is them.”
“Ok, great, I was wondering if the job is still up for grabs?” Now that you had a little bit of time to process what was happening, you couldn’t help but think that the voice, the accent, sounded really familiar, but you couldn’t seem to place it.
“YES, I mean yes, yes it is. Would you be available in… three days, so next Saturday, that is.” You had prepared for this moment, imagined being cool and collected, making sure that the person who you were hiring to do this was not some kind of creep, but yet, here you were, basically begging the guy. He sounded a bit shocked at the sound of the date.
“Oh, that’s quick, but yeah, I should be, yeah.”
“Great, but uhm, would you be available to meet tomorrow maybe? I kind of have a plan of how I need all this to go, so if we could just go through everything, make sure you know-”
“Yeah, that’s totally fine, darling. Just send me a time and address, and I’ll be there.” He didn’t seem too bothered about it. You, however, needed a second to comprehend that little nickname.
“Ok, cool, I’ll send you the address later and well, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you then,” and with him having said that, you hung up and immediately went on to text him when Rebecca erupted from the speaker of your regular phone.
“Honey, what happened to the third degree you wanted to do to him? Calm and collected, remember?”
“I know,” you send the text with your address as you spoke to your friend, “but at this point, I’m desperate. This guy might be the only chance I have, so I need to take it but don't worry, I got a plan.”
“Just make sure to follow this one through.” After this, the two of you talked for a little bit more until you could feel your eyelids get heavy and you fell asleep on your couch.
Unfortunately, the morning came sooner rather than later, and the pain that throbbed through your head was more than a little indicator of how badly you slept. Not to mention you had forgotten to take off your bra before sleep, so everything hurt.
Groggy, in pain, and still tired, you sat up on the couch, trying to find something around you that you could drink but only found an empty wine bottle. Then you saw the clock and the panic set in. it was almost 2 pm! And you had agreed to meet your… What were you even supposed to call the guy? Employee? Hired staff? You decided to just refer to him as “man” before you found out his name. That was something you had planned on doing in your original plan, but it was too late for that.
To set plan B in motion, you got up and ran to the landline, which you only really used to call one number.
“Lobby, how can I help you miss y/n?” Charlie sounded ready to do whatever you’d throw at him.
“Charlie, hi. In a bit, around 2.30, a man will be coming in. I need you to get as much information about him as you can, but like… subtly, you know?” In moments like these, you were glad the phone wasn’t stationary, as you could take this time to run around your apartment, cleaning up all the mess you had made the night before. Even for strangers, it was important to make good first impressions. There was still so much to be done, though. You most definitely needed a shower, find something nice to wear, prepare all the things you needed to talk about- god, why was revenge so difficult?
“Uhhh…” Charlie mumbled. “Miss? Is everything alright?” He must have heard you stumbling around the place, bumping into things as you tried to find the blueprint of the hotel and venue. It was genuinely ridiculous how easily you could obtain this kind of information on the internet.
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine. Can you just get him to answer some kind of contact sheet? Make it look like it’s for security, I don't know. Just name, address… that kind of stuff. Nothing too weird, oh, and if you could stall him a bit too, that would be amazing.”
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. But how will I know it’s the right person, miss?”
“Well, he’ll be here to see me but… oh, he has a British accent!”
“Ah, right, got it.” You could hear him scribbling down the things you had just said. Charlie was a great guy, but not always the brightest. You hung up the phone, and with less than thirty minutes until the man would arrive, you rushed into the bathroom. It must have been a new speed record of washing up once you got back into your bedroom to look for a decent outfit. It had to be something decent, but not too professional since this wasn’t exactly Wall Street business that you were up to.
You had just finished drying your hair, buttoning your shirt and putting glasses of water on the dining table (somehow, all these things were done simultaneously) when you got a call from the reception.
“Miss, there is a Mr Holland here to see you.” Mr Holland. You liked the sound of that.
“Thank you, Charlie, you may send him upstairs.” Usually, you would hang up now and wait for your guest to arrive with the elevator, but instead, you stayed on the line a little bit longer: “Did he fill out the questions?”
“Yes, but I will admit it was very strange, and I think he saw through that.”
“Doesn’t matter, just bring it over once he leaves, ok? And thank you.”
“Anyday, miss.” And with that, you hung up. It may have taken another minute for the elevator to reach your floor. The doors opened with a ding, and for a second, you didn’t know what to do. The man that walked into your apartment was the last type of guy who you would have imagined to go up for a job like you had described in the ad. He was firmly built, not too tall, but his height suited him just right. His hair was styled in soft dark brown curls, slightly gelled back though, and he wore plaid trousers, a green shirt with a denim jacket on top. He had his hands in his pockets as he walked up to you, but you could see the edge of a watch peeking out.
“Hi. Mr Holland, I presume,” you extended your hand for him to shake, which he did, firmly and with a kind smile. You noticed his eyes taking in the room, looking from one side to the other, most likely feeling a bit overwhelmed by the Upper East Side-ness of it all.
“Just call me Tom.” Tom Holland. A nice, sensible, sounding name.
“y/n.” you pulled your hand back and led him to the table, where you had everything laid out in preparation. The sight of this most certainly surprised him. You looked at him, trying to figure out if you had ever met because you could swear you had seen this man somewhere before. You just couldn’t point out where exactly.
“Before I begin explaining the plan,” you sat down as he did opposite of you. “I must ask you why you wanted to do this.”
“This must be the most formal prank I have ever encountered,” he said with a breezy chuckle, but then he saw the stern expression across your face, telling him you were taking this all very seriously. “Well, I’m behind on my rent and haven't had a proper job in a while, so basically, I need the cash. And, sorry if this offends you, but my friends dared me.”
“So, not a pervert?” You imagined yourself taking notes as if you were performing an actual job interview, but unfortunately, you had neither pen nor plain paper on hand. Tom smiled.
“I don’t think anything I can reply to that will actually convince you that I’m not, but no, I am not.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I’ll take your word for now.” you took a second, trying to figure out what to begin with, telling him. “Well, might as well start then. Like I said, the wedding is on Saturday, with the reception starting at 4-”
“Why are you doing this?” He interrupted you, clearly not having listened to a word you had just said.
“You know my reasoning, but I’d like to know yours. Call me old fashioned, but I would like to know why I will be running through a wedding without any pants on. Is this a hate crime? Cause I’m not interested in any of that-”
“Believe me, no hate crime involved.” You tapped your nails on the glass of the table.
“Well then, someone must have royally pissed you off, haven’t they? If you are willing to ruin the most important day of their life?”
“My sister, yes, and she’s a grade-A asshole, so-’ and then it clicked. You knew exactly where you had seen Tom before. And from the look on his face, he must have recognised you at the sound of the vulgarity that escaped your mouth. It was as if you were both transported to the busy street all those weeks ago. You could basically feel him bumping into you.
“It’s you," you whispered, more to yourself.
“Well, shit.” He leaned back in his chair. You both mirrored each other’s expressions, which could only be explained as disbelief. What were the chances that the man who was supposed to help you ruin your sister’s wedding was the pompous dick that dared to push you aside on the street?
“You know what,” he took a sip from the glass of water you had so politely set up on the table, “Somehow, I’m not at all surprised that it’s you.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” you glared at him.
“I could tell back then, just by the way you looked at me, that you were just another spoiled rich girl that must have watched a few too many reruns of Gossip Girl. So let me guess, your sister got the nicer Porsche for her birthday?” Oh, so that’s how you were gonna play it? Really? Suddenly, you didn’t think you needed Tom that much, after all. You were sure that someone else would call in a second… or maybe a bit later… Oh, who were you kidding? He was your only hope.
But fuck, from the way you were looking at each other, clearly there was no joy in this brand new collaboration. Most definitely not for you, but he was here already so you might as well take advantage of the opportunity. This was, however, a tricky situation and you could not have him fuck it up, so you needed him on your good side.
“I’m sorry, ok, I was having a bad day and took it out on you. If you want to leave, go ahead.” you pointed him the way to the exit, where he had just walked through a minute ago. You saw Tom’s mouth twitch. His gaze flickered between you and the elevator. You could tell he was outweighing the scenarios. He didn’t like you, which was fine, but he needed the money. He had made that very clear. His eyes locked with yours again, and he spoke up. Or maybe he was considering the reaction of his friend when they'd hear that he walked out? Surely, that would be very humiliating.
“You’re lucky I need a good laugh, myself, love.”
“There really is no need for nicknames, Tom.” You ignored the heat rushing through your face at the sound of it and made yourself look as unbothered as you possibly could. You didn’t need him to know he was getting to you, and you didn’t need your own mind to know it.
Detach, Denial and… what could you add to that?
Tom put his hands up in defence, and you noticed that wristwatch of his again.
“If you’re struggling so much, how come you got a Rolex?”
“Gift from my parents when I moved here, not that it’s any of your business.” He smiled, slightly condescending, which was fair. You looked at the silver band as he turned it around his wrist a bit.
“Well, ok then, as you’ve noticed, I got some stuff here,” you quickly changed the subject to divert the tension. Which seemed to work as both of you looked around at the various notes and papers that you had spread around the table earlier. Tom picked up a piece of paper that lay near his hand and started reading through it.
"I will say, this must be the most elaborate prank I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you,” you said, feeling pretty proud of yourself, even though you, personally, would not have called it a "prank".
“Wasn’t a compliment,” he put the piece of paper down, looking unimpressed, “pranks shouldn’t be 12-step programmes. They should be easy. I run in, run out, done. Don’t see what’s there more to it.”
“Maybe that’s all you need to do, but I need to ensure that, one, you don’t get killed by my family and, two, that they don’t kill me. For that, I need to make sure that this shit goes well and that you don’t fuck anything up.” Formalities, you had decided, were gone since the moment he called you a spoiled rich girl. He had no right to say something so true.
“What makes you think I’m the one who’s gonna screw up?” He challenged you by leaning forward, his brow raised. You had no response to this, so you decided to simply ignore it.
“So, like I’ve said, the reception will be at 4.”
“When’s the ceremony?” He asked.
“Why does that matter?”
“So I know how long I will have to wait before it’s time to show up.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll drive us both to the reception,” you said. “And I’ll make sure you have a room in the hotel for the night… or a way of transport back to the city in the evening. Whatever you prefer. It might be for the better actually if you can leave quickly. Safer, even.”
“Are you telling me you’re not invited to your own sister’s wedding?”
“No, I don’t think I said any of that.” You were attempting to sound aloof as if you had no idea what he was talking about. But of course, he was the struggling actor here, so he saw right through you.
“Fuck, that’s harsh… sorry.” That almost sounded compassionate; his features seemed to soften, and you tried to match that energy. There was no need to stay cold toward each other.
“Thanks, not that it’s any of your business,” you jumped on the opportunity to throw his own line back at him, which didn’t go unnoticed by the look of the slight smirk he gave you. It was not your intention or in any part of the plan to tell the guy what your reasoning was for this whole endeavour, but it might have been wise. This way, you didn’t look like the complete bad guy for wanting to ruin your sister’s special day, and you even might have gotten someone on your side for a change. Not that it was much better. You still didn’t like him.
“Not to jump to any conclusion,” he said, preparing to jump to conclusions, you thought, “but why hire me to do this? I mean, this feels like a joke very much below your level. Why not hire someone to be your fake boyfriend and out show everyone? It's not that uncommon. Plenty of ladies looking for a good looking fella to prance around with for the day. My mate Harrison is basically making a business out of it.”
“Because I'm not interested in lowrate escorts, but I'm also not that great of an actress, so I don’t think it would have fooled anyone, and besides, I don’t have anything to prove to my family. Showing up with a date would just be conforming to their bullshit. I’d much rather make them miserable this way.” You didn’t care to mention to Tom that the idea of a fake boyfriend had simply never crossed your mind.
"You’re mental, aren’t you?” He looked at you with fascination as you drank some of your water.
“You can still walk out if you want to.”
Somehow, Tom wasn't too scared off by your manic side and stayed for the remainder of the afternoon.
Saturday came about much sooner than you wished for. Before you knew it, you were waiting in your car for Tom to get in. It turned out that it was actually for the better that you weren’t welcome at the ceremony, as it was supposed to start in half an hour, and it was still an hour drive when you started the engine.
Tom lived in what you could only assume was a small apartment above a Chinese restaurant. Thankfully, there had been no need to drive into any small side streets to get to his apartment. Instead, you waited in a designated parking spot, right at an intersection. Waiting, the time went by even slower than slow, it felt like, and you were about to text Tom to hurry up when you heard a knock on the window.
With a shriek, you jumped up, your hand immediately bolting to the automatic door lock. But when you managed to take a breath, you noticed it was Tom that had scared the living shit out of you. It was a sunny day, and though his eyes were covered with a pair of sunglasses, you could tell he was smiling brightly at you with his whole face. He tapped on the window again, and you quickly unlocked it. However, he didn’t step in but opened the backdoor to throw the overnight bag on the seat, it falling right next to yours. Only then he finally got in.
“Sorry, my friend was late, and I needed to wait for him because I can’t leave Tessa alone.”
“Who’s Tessa,” you asked, looking in your back view mirror for any oncoming traffic, but the view was blocked by a couple of guys carrying an old couch, making you go look over your shoulder as you tried to get your car back onto the road.
“My dog.” Tom said, grabbing his phone, “here’s a picture.”
“She’s cute.” you glanced for as long as you dared to look while waiting for a green light. Tom showed you his lock screen, a picture of a very adorable grey dog, the breed not entirely known to you.
“Yeah, she’s the best,” Tom finally took his glasses off and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. “You don’t have any pets, do you?”
“Nope,” god, driving in New York was always so fucking stressful. People, bikers and cars coming at you from every possible angle, even the ones it shouldn’t be possible to appear from. It was as if you lacked about a hundred pairs of eyes each time you hit the road. “Sorry, I’m just- fuck,” you pushed your hand into the claxon as some asshole in a BMW cut you off.
“Maybe I should have driven?” Tom chuckled.
“What? So you can steer us onto the wrong side of the road? No, thank you.”
“That is actually really rude of you,” he retorted but had not seemed very hurt by your comment. You drove on for a few blocks until a roadblock surfaced, showcasing roadwork ahead. Two lanes had to merge together, assuring you would be arriving late. The cars moved at a snail’s speed.
"Would you want any pets? Doesn’t it ever get lonely up in your white marble post-modernistic castle?”
“I don’t know,” you could do nothing but indulge Tom in the conversation as you waited for progress in the traffic, “My mom is allergic to anything cute, so I grew up without any pets, and I guess I’ve never missed what I didn’t have.” That was a lie. You always wanted a pet. Didn’t really matter what, but your parents were very strictly against it, even now. Even though you were an adult who lived on their own, they would not have it and since they paid your rent…
“Well, if you want, I can let you walk Tess one day,” he suggested. “As a favour in return?”
“How about the favour will be that I pay you 400 bucks like we agreed, huh? I’m not gonna babysit your dog too.” Finally, the cars upfront started to move, and you had maybe moved five inches before another fucking BMW got in your way. Your blood might have actually reached the boiling point, and you began to lose feeling in your hands at the tightness of your fingers around your gear shift- but then, suddenly, you felt a soothing touch over your knuckles. Glancing down, you saw Tom’s hand over yours. His thumb moved in slow motions over your skin. When you looked up at him, he was sitting casually in his seat, eyes on the road, most likely not even aware of what he was doing. You also got to notice, and even appreciate, his outfit. It consisted of a very sharp, dark grey suit. Under the jacket, he had a white button-up, no tie.
“It’s going.”
“Huh?” you blinked.
“The traffic, the cars are moving.”
“Oh shit," you quickly moved the gear, getting the car back into motion before another damn BMW could sneak in. Perhaps it was your harsh movement, but Tom pulled his hand away, putting it on his thigh, and you couldn’t help but steal swift glances at it every now and then (when it was safe to do so, obviously).
After what was supposed to be 20 minutes but turned out to be 45, you finally drove out of the city onto the interstate. It would be another 40 minutes or so before you arrived in New Canaan, so you tried to get comfortable behind the wheel. It wasn’t easy, and Tom must have noticed.
“If you need a break, we can stop somewhere, and I can drive- I promise I know which side of the road is the right one.”
“No, it’s fine, I’m fine.” Immediately, you felt much better. Or, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
“So, wanna tell me what’s up with your family?” He quipped.
“Alright,” right then, you noticed a sign mentioning a gas station, “actually, you can drive for a bit.” You were ready to take the exit.
“Ok, I get it. No family talk.” he tapped his leg for a few seconds, enough for you to start thinking that he had dropped the topic. “Wanna know something? It might make you feel better.”
“Sure…” you were just doing your best to focus on the road, which wasn’t as challenging considering that you had about half an hour of driving straight forward.
“I stole this watch.” He confessed, referencing the Rolex that he showed from underneath his sleeve.
“Oh, great, so I’m stuck in a car with a criminal.” Your heart was beating a bit faster, without a doubt. Has that been his plan all along? Make you drive out to the wedding, where he could rob each and every one of your family members? Was that what his bag was for? Or was it maybe filled with unregistered weapons? So he could rob and kill you. Oh god…
“You’re too dramatic, love. I stole it from my dad before I moved here.”
“Still sounds like a criminal offence, especially if you fled the country.” Suddenly you realised you had to change lanes unless you wanted to take the exit back to New York, which didn’t feel like a lousy idea…
“I didn’t flee… my parents weren’t exactly too happy when they found out I wanted to go to New York and become an actor. We didn’t end things on great terms, and the last thing I had done before leaving was to go into their bedroom and steal my dad’s watch. I don’t even know why.”
“It’s a nice watch,” you commented, making Tom laugh. But suddenly, you had a feeling about where his story was going. "Are your parents… ok?”
“Oh, yeah, they’re great. Dad found out about the watch and wasn't too happy, but what can he do about it when I’m 3000 miles away.” He smirked and let the chair fall back a bit, getting himself even more comfortable. You slapped him across the sternum.
“Aw, what’s that for?” He grabbed your hand to stop you from hitting him.
"You dick, you made it sound like they had died or something.”
“No, I didn’t. Blame your interpretation for that.”
You managed to slap him lightly once more before bringing your hand back to the steering wheel. There you were, thinking he was trying to lecture you on the importance of family and love or some other kind of bullshit. Actually, it was for the better he didn't. You might have had to push him out of the car for being a total dweeb.
The short silence was getting to you, “Ok, so, what is the plan once we’re there?” You had gone over the plan in vigorous detail during that first meeting at your place, making sure Tom knew exactly what he had to do. Like you had told him then, you had three goals.
Make your family miserable.
While not getting caught,
And preferably not getting Tom into too much trouble (pain).
But you wouldn’t exactly have sleepless nights if you didn’t manage to fulfil the third goal.
“Ok,” Tom thought for a second, “when we get there, you get a key to your room and I'll meet you there a bit later. Then, I drop my stuff off and wait for the best man’s speech.” You had heard from your sister that Lorenzo, the best man, had planned a speech of about 15 minutes, so if Tom made his way downstairs at the beginning of that, he would be just in time to make his big entrance at a good moment in the party.
“Once downstairs, I need to take the path up to the woods and do my thing. Wait a few more minutes and- showtime!”
“Showtime,” you smiled back at him. “Then what?”
“Uhh, I get the fuck out of there. Into the broom closet.”
“Where I will stash you a spare change of clothes, which I assume you have with you?
“In the bag,” he pointed to the bag on the backseat. “I change as fast as I can and sneak out, then go back to the room.”
“You know, we can still go for plan B,” plan B is what Tom liked to call his whole “fake dating” idea, which still sounded as ridiculous to you as the first time he suggested it to you. There would be no way that anyone in your family believed you were together. Absolutely absurd.
“In your dreams.”
You kept on driving in silence for the next ten minutes before you finally arrived at the venue. It was a beautiful building, surrounded by ideally kept flora. Trees and bushes trimmed with impeccable precision, and what you heard in the background must have been a peacock. So yeah, it was that kind of joint.
It was a little past four when you stepped out of the car, and you could see the wedding party making their way from the ceremony to the reception. Your sister was nowhere to be seen, but you knew she must be in her room, changing into her second dress for the party.
Tom quickly got out, making his way into the reception, which was thankfully on the other side of the building, where none of your family was supposed to be at the moment (except for maybe a rogue nephew, but what would a 7-year old know?). It was his goal to stay as inconspicuous as possible. If anyone asked, he was a third cousin twice removed from the opposite side of the wedding. No one would be any wiser.
You got out of the car, seeing more of your, basically forgotten, family members who had just arrived for the booze and dance. You said your polite hellos and went off to the lobby. Tom was sitting in a lounge chair, somehow having gotten a hold of a cup of tea in the few minutes that you had been separated. You shot him a confused look but tried to ignore him, not wanting to seem as if you knew him. The woman at the helpdesk was nice; she most definitely felt overwhelmed at the rush that the wedding brought with it. (Apparently, some woman, you assumed your mom, had not been too happy with the linens that had been provided in her room and demanded them to get new ones… as in, from the store.)
You got your key, then as the actress that you were, made a bit of a show of dropping your key right in front of Tom as you said a polite hello to the “mysterious, handsome stranger”. Being the “gentleman” that he is, he then caught up to you quickly, handing you the keycard while keeping the spare one for himself. And just like that, you were in.
You got into the elevator, alone, your hand clutching to your luggage for dear life. It was only two floors, but your bag was heavy, and you had made the mistake of putting on your heels for the drive… Who even does that? So your feet were killing you before you had reached your room. And the journey to your room became even longer, when the elevator doors opened on the floor below, to reveal the wrinkly face of-
“Auntie Tua!?” you said in a panicked voice that might very easily be disguised as excitement. Aunt Perpetua was an ageless woman, but in the same way that fossils are. She always wore the most hideous dresses, of which the pattern hurt your eyes while your mouth struggled to keep your meal in at the smell of her bag. For some reason, it always smelled like sour cabbage combined with salmon. As it was the wedding, she had chosen to wear, in combination with her fishkraut purse, a bright purple dress with more ruffles than she had hair and a hat to match. Well, it was more of a fascinator with various plumage poking out at all angles.
“Ah, sweetheart!” she stepped into the elevator, the smell of salmon becoming more and more pungent. You smiled, trying to hide the tears that were already forming in the corners of your eyes.
“Not at the wedding, auntie Tua?” you asked, getting as far away as you could from the woman.
“Oh, I was, but it was terribly boring, so I left.” If you had a drink, you would be sure to spit it out. She left the wedding ceremony?
“Did anyone notice?”
“Yes, yes, your mother was not very pleased, but well, I’m not going to let anyone tell me what to do, especially a woman dressed in chartreuse.” your great aunt scoffed as if what she was wearing wasn’t a crime against society. You listened to her rant, not believing how an elevator could possibly be going any slower when the door opened again, and you slipped out, making sure to quickly press the “close doors” button again as you stepped through them to ensure dear aunt Perpetua was leaving.
You found your room quite quickly. Inside, you were, once again nearly scared to death, by the sight of Tom lying on the bed. Ah, there was only one bed, but that was fine because Tom was not meant to stay any longer than he needed to get changed in the closet.
“We got to stop meeting like this, love,” he smiled, sitting up. You didn’t trust your mouth to come up with any snarky comment in return, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you glanced over at him. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a set of very toned arms. Seeing the veins as he moved made you clench your jaw, but just for a moment.
You put your luggage next to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Maybe you could just stay here for the rest of the evening, not even bother with the party. The duvet was so soft, so inviting to get underneath it and curl up and sleep. As a child, you had always wondered if you could hibernate, what would be a better time than this?
“You ok?” Tom asked, scooting over closer to you.
“Yup,” you nodded, “just tired.” What you wanted to do was to fall backwards onto the soft mattress, but what you had not considered was that Tom had moved relatively much closer to you, causing your bodies to collide. As soon as your shoulder touched him, you jumped back, excusing yourself with a soft apology.
“It’s alright, but you know, I’m still not opposed to my idea-”
“If you’re scared of running around naked in front of my family, you can just say so,” you said, “but then, I hope you understand that I won’t be able to pay you.”
“I’m not sure if this is extortion or prostitution… and, in all honesty, I don’t know if I’d be opposed to either in this circumstance.”
“Now, that made zero sense; you are just plainly idiotic,” you rolled your eyes, then proceeded to sigh, “but I guess I have to go; I don’t want to miss the show. I’ll see you there… or not.” So you said as you grabbed your shoes and made your way to the door. You had not even had five minutes to rest after your drive. But you couldn’t dare to be much later, for the reception must have been well on its way.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Tom caught up to you, standing closely, maybe a bit closer for what you were supposed to enjoy, but all that the proximity affected was the shortness of your breath. It surprised you to see him get so close up to you, and for a brief instance, you were confused as to what he was planning to do, but then, almost out of nowhere, he gave you a set of clothes.
Oh, right.
“I saw a great little storage room a corridor away from the help desk.” He winked and reached his arm out. His hand brushed over your side as he got the door handle and opened the door for you.
“Right, thanks.” That was all that you managed to mutter out before quickly trotting off downstairs to the party. You decided to go down the stairs this time, remembering that the staircase was closer to the storage room that Tom spoke of… or, that’s what you concluded after a first glance of the building.
It was one thing to plan out an elaborate plan of taking some sweet revenge on your family, but it was an entirely different thing to actually go through with it. That was certain. You only had a little purse with you. So you had to carry Tom’s clothes under your arm, only hoping you would not bump into anyone. But in fear of this happening, as you walked down the stairs, you tried to think of an excuse why you were carrying a pile of man’s wear on you. Nothing compelling could come to mind.
It was, thankfully, unnecessary, for you managed to get to the room that said “storage” and quickly slipped in. it was dark, but you just put the clothes behind a pile of towels and just as quickly left. Flawless. This was a foolproof plan, after all, and you were no fool.
Tom, on the other hand...
To your own astonishment and confusion, you had the feeling that you might be growing kind of fond of him, but at the same time, you didn’t quite know what to think of the man. While your first encounter could be called unfortunate by some, and both of you had your strong opinion on the other, you still couldn't pinpoint anything on him with certainty. He was, without a doubt, very charming, very good looking, amusing, and though his words did not always make sense, his actions had the right intentions… most of the time… hopefully, but…
There needed to be a but. There always was one. You had not met a man who didn’t have some baggage on him. Maybe his was that he was willing to get paid for ruining a stranger’s wedding by running naked across the dancefloor? It could be worse. God knows you’ve dealt with worse.
But, oh, what would you know of it? You had only met him, officially, three days ago. And though you did spend a reasonable amount of time with him in those three days, you could not set on any definitive judgments about him. It was simply impractical, and frankly, prejudicial.
That was the conclusion you had come to once you arrived at the large doors of the wedding party. They were clear, so you had an easy view of everything that was going on. But, to your surprise, you could not see your sister anywhere, meaning that she must have still been preparing for her big entrance and that the party had not yet begun.
Before anyone noticed, you slipped through the door and got another look at everything. It was a lovely looking celebration. With chiffon panels hanging from the high ceilings, and fairy lights twinkling in their midst, everything had a very soft look to it, but in that polished way, your family was known for. The room itself consisted of three parts. The biggest of it was the dining area, where about… too many round tables were positioned. Each filled with plates, glasses, cutlery, a floral centrepiece and more wedding junk. Then there was the dancefloor, a parquet area, with a bit of podium at the side where the band set up their instruments.
That would have been it, but your parents had paid for the extra mile, which included the window wall to be opened up, revealing the beautiful garden, which held space for the many more wedding party activities that were unknown to you.
One final thing about the room was that it had a sky-view ceiling, perfect for a summer evening and night. The view itself was uninterrupted, and if one were to look up, one would only see the clear blue sky of the day, but if someone, for example, Tom, would look out the window, one could easily see what was taking place downstairs. Something you had really been counting on when making your plan.
It was during these moments that you thought of taking a step back and reviewing everything. Was there a possibility for you to have taken it all a bit too far? Most definitely, but you did not really give a fuck. It was honestly a rather lovely philosophy to live by.
You quickly spotted Rebecca, almost having forgotten that she had, in fact, been invited to the party. It wasn’t even that she and your sister were close, but more the fact that your sister did not care about who was at her wedding, as long as it was big, flamboyant and preposterously narcissistic.
Rebecca was sitting at one of the furthest tables, having a lesser connection to the married couple, but she did not seem troubled by that. On the contrary, she appeared to be happily settled next to someone you thought might have either been your sister’s gay dog-walker or one of her work friends. Just as you walked past her, you could hear her laugh at one of his unfunny jokes.
“Oh my god, Steve, that is hilarious!” it was then that she noticed you walk by, “y/n! There you are!
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you didn’t want to ruin her chances, however small they may be, of getting lucky later that evening.
“No problem, Steve here was just telling me about… sorry, what did you call it, again?” Oh, this conversation was going splendidly. But, before poor Steve had the chance to correct himself, you apologised once again and excused yourself to find your own seat. Apparently, your family had not completely disowned you (yet) as you found your place at the largest table with the little card sticking out of the floral arrangement saying “1”. You would be sitting surrounded by your closest family. Hooray…
What made it slightly more bearable to you was that when you looked up through the glass ceiling, you could see the hotel and there, behind one of the windows, was Tom. he was leaning against the window and must have had found the minibar, as when your eyes met, you saw him toast to you with a glass of champagne. You were about to raise your empty glass, a bit defeated, back at him when the band started playing behind you and the large doors opened, revealing the happy couple and your parents. So that was why you were the only one at the table?
The newlyweds twirled their way to the table, with their entourage behind them, as the rest of the party clapped and cheered. You got up and clapped along, but probably a bit off-beat.
“y/n! So glad you could make it!” said the groom’s mother as she sat down next to you, followed by her husband, the maid of honour, the best man, your parents and then finally the happy couple. It was a cosy little table. You were sitting right between the two mothers, also known as menopausal hell.
“We missed you at the ceremony, sweetie,” your mother brushed something off your shoulder.
“Then why did you uninvite me?” you said through gritted teeth. To this, your mother had no response. You decided to go for another home run. “I bumped into Auntie Tua in the elevator.”
“Oh, god, do not speak to me about that woman.” Your mother scoffed, glaring over to where your great aunt was sitting, right next to cousin Fred, who looked more weasely than ever. Your mother then extended her hand over you and started clicking her fingers frantically at a waiter walking by, showing him her empty glass. The man walked up and poured her the wine which he was carrying. You took the opportunity and handed him your glass as well.
“y/n, are you allowed to drink in the monastery?” If you had taken a sip, you were sure you would have spat it out. Instead, you did your best at controlling your breathing and put the glass down slowly before smiling as nicely as you could to the groom’s mother.
“I’m sorry, Mary, what was that? I might have misheard you, I think.”
“I was asking if you are allowed to drink alcohol? Since you’ve joined the monastery, I mean.” What in the actual fuck-
“I think there has been some kind of mistake, Mary, I didn’t-”
“She didn't join yet. We thought it would be better for her to do it after the wedding. Don’t want our girl to miss out on all the fun.” Your mother butted in, almost pushing you off the chair to speak to Mary. They were actually insane. Each and every one of them. You glanced up again, but Tom was gone.
“Ah yes, that makes perfect sense,” Bert, the groom’s father, chuckled loudly and… either had a spasm or winked at you. Either way, a horrific sight. You started looking around for another table you could join instead, but each seat was apparently already occupied. You considered excusing yourself to the toilet, anything to leave this torture, and you were already getting off your seat.
“You want to say something, y/n?” your sister looked up at you expectantly; suddenly, all eyes were on you, people thinking you had a speech prepared.
“Oh, no, I was just-” you pointed to the exit, “uhm, never mind.”
“Well, sit down, then,” your mother pulled you down to your seat harshly. You were still rubbing the spot on your wrist that she had grabbed when the best man got up, clinking his knife to his glass. All attention was on him now as he started his speech, talking on and on about how the love shared between your sister and her husband was to envy and how he wished them many good things. How love was all about having and sharing and giving and receiving.
You felt like could be said in one breath, but that’s probably exactly why he got to speak, and you weren’t even invited to the ceremony. Many people made crying noises and started sniffing, but you could not see a single tear in the room when you looked around.
The speech went on forever, but for once, you weren’t mad about that. Everybody was listening to the guy spilling his fake tears about two people, while you could only think about Tom. You hoped he had noticed the speech had begun and that he was making his way outside. Though you had not had a good look at what the garden looked like, the woods were beginning very near it all, giving Tom an excellent spot to hide while also being close enough to the party. There was a path leading up to the tall trees, and if he took that, he could make a beeline for the dancefloor and parkour his way through the tables.
Oh fuck, there were so many tables. What if he got stuck between them or fell and couldn’t make his escape?
And if he got caught… a thought that had not yet dawned upon you suddenly hit. He could get arrested for so many things. And once that happened, it would only be a matter of how invested the police were in the reason behind his streaking that would attach you to the crime. Because you could give Tom as much credit as you wanted, but there was no way he would lie to the police… or would he? No… he probably wouldn’t.
“y/n.” your mother hissed, slapping your arm a bit too harshly. You must have zoned out because when you looked around, people were clapping again. The speech was over. You joined in for the last few seconds while leaning into your mother’s side.
“You know, this is basically abuse, mother.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clapping even louder, with a proud smile directed to the best man. More proud than she had ever looked at you, that’s for sure (and a bit exaggerated for dramatic purposes).
Next up was the maid of honour, a woman you had never seen before in your life, so you really questioned how much honour there really was. What honour did they even speak about, and why did the maid have it?
The speech, thankfully, was not that long. It included all the go-to points that should be included in a wedding speech, a cheer for the couple, and another wave of polite clapping, and finally, the wedding could begin as the meal was brought out. Knowing your sister, all the dishes were miniature and unpronounceable. So, while it might have consisted of four courses, it only took half an hour before people started to dance. Now you actually hoped that Tom got there a bit later cause you did not want him to spend so much time there. It could not be good for anyone.
As you thought that, you looked over to the garden and actually caught a glimpse of Tom, who was making his way to the woods. You then immediately looked at the room, trying to figure out if someone had noticed your accomplice, but no one had made any weird looks or nudged their neighbour, so you assumed the coast was clear.
Your stomach was beginning to flip as your anticipation built up in you. It could happen any minute, and you kind of wanted to be out of the room when it did. Well, sort of. You hadn’t figured it out yet. But, no, that was silly. Of course, you wanted to stay and see the horror on your family’s face.
People were dancing to a generic love song. It was a slow one. Couples holding each other close, moving to the rhythm of the music. Maybe it was a more suitable reaction for you to be jealous for not having anyone to dance like this with, but all that was on your mind was the thought that if it was any moment, this one would be perfect for Tom to show up.
Having had enough of your family and feeling pretty proud of yourself for withstanding them for so long, you got up and made your way over to Rebecca’s table. It had several advantages. First of all, it was far, far away from your family, and at the same time, much closer to the exit if you needed it in case of an emergency escape. There was also that from her seat, Rebecca had the perfect view to the dancefloor and the gardens, so you had a perfect-adjacent view when you sat down next to her. The table was also closer to the kitchens, meaning that whenever a waiter walked out, holding a new bottle of champagne, or wine, or whatever, you were often one of the first to get a refill.
“So, how’s the… thing going?” Rebecca asked.
“I hope well. But I have no idea. He could show up any minute.” Everyone from Rebecca’s table had decided to go to the dancefloor, leaving the two of you free to talk about whatever out in the open without the fear of anyone listening in- and that would be an advantage… #5? Not significant enough to keep track.
“Is there anything you need me to do? God, this is all so exciting.” Rebecca squealed before downing her drink. You were going to tell her to calm down, that, again, this was no Ocean’s Eight, but then you thought of something.
“Actually, yes. Tom will probably leave some clothes behind back there, so could you maybe take them and bring them to my room? So no one else finds it?”
Rebecca glanced in the way of the woods, where Tom was most presumably staying low.
“Sure thing.”
Not even before you managed to finish your drink did you suddenly hear gasps and the sound of someone running. The band singer stopped, almost dropping his microphone, but it took a moment for the rest of the band to catch on with what was happening. Rebecca grabbed your hand, and both of you extended your necks to look over the crowd. But it quickly dispersed, with more gasps following.
“Whoooo!” you heard the familiar voice shout out before almost jumping over the crowd and the tables in his way. There was Tom, very enthusiastic and very much naked, running through the room. He passed by your table, and you tried to look as scared as possible, but it was challenging when you saw him wink your way. Then, as quickly as he had appeared, so soon he was gone through the corridor.
“Did you know he was so-” Rebecca commented, turning around, hoping to catch a final glimpse of him, but Tom had already disappeared. You drank your drink quickly, feeling your throat drying up. When it was finished, you put your glass on the table and just shook your head “no”. You had no idea. The quick images that your mind managed to capture of his body flashed before you.
Tom had left the dancing guests in only what could be described as pure shock. You could see your mother looking sickly, holding on to your father’s arm, trying to remain stable. Your sister started sobbing and was already surrounded by her bridesmaids, who were trying to fix her make-up as she was still crying.
Then the fury hit, and a group of “brave” men started to barge their way through the room, ready to apprehend the naked criminal. It was only to your, and most likely Rebecca’s, amusement to see the entire group walk in the opposite direction than you saw Tom run to. The shock must have blurred their memory. Or their fragile masculinity prevented them from having a good look at where he had gone. Both worked in your favour.
“I think I might go to the ladies room,” you stated, a bit too loud, but that was kind of the point. At the same time, Rebecca said she was just going to hop outside for a cigarette. You had to give it to her, that was very smart because you had noticed a little smoking corner in the garden very early on.
And so, you made your way to the storage closet. Making sure no one was around to see, you knocked three times, slowly, in a way that Tom would know it was you. Finally, he opened the door just far enough for you to slip in.
“Oh my god, that was ama- Oh my god!” Oh, he was still naked. “Why aren’t you dressed yet!?” you couldn’t be too loud, in fear of being heard and getting caught, but your hissing conducted enough anger, in your opinion.
“Because I can’t find my clothes,” he hissed back. He had managed to wrap a towel around his middle- no, not even that, he was just holding it in front of himself. His chest was moving up and down with each deep breath he took. Now that he didn’t have layers of clothing on him, you could see the perfectly toned muscles that he had been hiding. They weren’t bulging, not even that refined, but you had to hold yourself back to not go up and touch him. It was that same kind of feeling a kid has in a toy store when the display has a “do not touch” sign on it. Simply ludicrous to expect a person to listen to it.
“Right, uhm”, but he needed the clothing to not get his head chopped off by your family, so you quickly started looking through the shelves. You hadn’t even realised how many towels there were when you had gone in the first time, for a brief moment even getting scared that you had left them in the wrong closet or that someone had taken them away.
But eventually, you managed to find the spare outfit. Tom took them from you, dropping them to the ground and quickly put on his underwear.
You didn’t really know what to do, so you started counting towels. Yes, it would have been best to leave the storage closet, but each time you tried, you could hear voices outside. People from the wedding talking about a "hooligan”.
“Oh, you’re a scoundrel, too, apparently,” you reported back to Tom about the things you heard outside. He laughed as he put his belt on. Why did guys always hop around when doing so?
He had just grabbed his shirt and was in the middle of putting it on when you heard the cold voice of your mother.
“I do not care if we have to tear this whole place down; you better find him!”
“Shit, my mom,” as if your mother would smell you through the door, you backed off, “what if she walks in here?” You both froze, looked at each other then stared at the door. Before you could think of a plan, Tom started unbuttoning his shirt again.
“What the hell are you doing? You know they are looking for someone naked, right? So undressing is the last thing you should be doing.” You wanted to throw his jacket at him, maybe even find a bucket to put over his head, but he kept his shirt open, and your mind went blank, just for a little bit.
Footsteps and your mother’s voice were getting louder, as well as your own heartbeat. And you might have seriously needed a cardiologist when Tom pulled you close. Basically, face to face.
“Do you trust me?”
“No?” you questioned yourself, feeling dumb at the response.
“I just ran naked in front of your whole family for you, and you still don’t- never mind, can you, for one minute? Trust me for the next minute?” He was looking into your eyes, his hand on your hip, and you could feel as he was pulling your skirt up. His eyes were nothing but sincere, so surely you could trust him… right?
“You can slap me as much as you want later, ok? Just- kiss me.”
“What?!” Fuck, that was definitely too loud. Too scared in the moment to think it through, you leaned in and kissed Tom as hard as you could. It was very messy and could not have possibly been comfortable for him, but you grabbed him by the collar and just went for it. He somehow had found the zipper on the side of your dress and had unzipped it halfway. You let go of the instinct that said to kick him in the nuts, trusting him for that one promised minute.
And there it was. The door opened, revealing you to your mother.
“y/n!” she shouted, making you pull away. You looked at yourself and Tom and realised that what he had created was just a scene of two people getting caught making out. Your mother stared at you, then gasped. “Have some respect for yourself.” Before walking away, leaving the door wide open for everyone to see. Obviously, her intention was to shoot some shame into you, but you were glowing. It worked. She had looked Tom right in the face and didn’t say anything. She had no idea who he was.
Tom passed you and closed the door of the storage room. When he turned around to face you, his cheek was greeted by a harsh slap from your hand.
“Oh fuck.” He rubbed the spot you had just hit. The smirk pulling at his lips did not go unnoticed.
“Sorry, but you offered, and I just couldn’t resist.” You got back to your zipper and tried to pull it up, but it must have got stuck on the fabric, as it would not budge.
“Here, let me help,” Tom stepped up, and you were ready to slap him again, but you knew that would make very little sense. So you put your arm up and let Tom handle the messed up zipper. He barely touched you, making you think that whatever he was doing would go nowhere since you needed to put some pressure on the fabric, but no, the next second, you could hear the sound of the zip go all the way up.
“Thanks,” you said, brushing some of your hair behind your ear.
“No problem,” he went on to button up his shirt, “and I’m really sorry for this. I just thought… since PDA often makes people nervous or something- but I'm really sorry if I crossed a line there or made you uncomfortable in any way.”
“It’s fine. Was a bit weird, but… I didn’t really mind.” You were becoming more and more aware of how close you still were to Tom. He must have noticed as well when both of you quickly stepped aside.
“We should probably… go.” He pointed back at the door, to which you nodded in agreement. Though scared of what hysteria might be awaiting you outside, you decided to rip the bandaid off and open the door. When you looked outside, no one was in the corridor, fortunately. You flattened out your skirt, making sure to look presentable, and must have taken, maybe, ten steps and had just turned the corner when you bumped into your sister.
“y/n!” she shrieked. The bridesmaids had done their best, but you could still see the streaks of foundation that had been washed down through her crying, as well as the layer of mascara and eyeliner around her eyes.
“Uh, hey, I was just going back to the-”
“Don’t bother,” she sniffed, “it’s over. Everyone is looking for-” she suddenly froze up, her eyes wide before narrowing them down. “Is that him?”
In a panic, you turned around to see Tom, who had just walked out. He was cuffing the sleeves of his shirt but looked up at the sound of your sister’s exclamation.
“Is he who?” you asked, your eyes switching between her and Tom as if it was a fast-paced Tennis match.
“Momma said you were canoodling in the closet; of course, I didn’t believe her but, hi.” She loosened up, flattening her hair and fluttering her eyelashes as Tom made his way over to you. He gave her a smile filled with charm as he extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Tom. Congratulations on the wedding.”
Your sister shook his hand, her smile now a bit faded. Perhaps it was that Tom had reminded her that she was now, in fact, married and thus not allowed to flirt with him, or he had reminded her of the disaster that had just occurred. But she pulled herself together quickly, turning her attention to you.
“Are you guys here… together?”
“Yes,” Tom pulled you close to him before you had a chance to say anything, “yes, we are. Sorry, I’m late. Work, you know how it is.”
“No, I don’t.” your sister, who had never worked a day in her life, responded with a bit of a blank expression.
“Well, I hope I didn’t miss anything.” In the context given, Tom’s genuinity was actually hilarious to experience, especially in addition to the horrified expression on your sister’s face. You took his words and decided to play a bit off that. You looked up at your sister and tried to play off your notice of her ruined make-up.
“Wait, what happened?”
“You guys missed it?” Her lip quivered, ready to break out into tears again. She really had no idea where you had been for most of the wedding.
“I mean, I left the party like… when did you arrive, honey?” You looked up at Tom, who didn’t miss a beat in responding. He looked at his watch.
“Probably like half an hour ago, babe.” AKA ten minutes before the incident.
“Yeah, and then… well, we got a bit occupied,” you said bashfully. Your sister was ready to scream, from what it looked like. She looked at you, then at Tom, then back at you. Opened her mouth, prepared to say something. Then decided against it. She made another attempt before a bridesmaid showed up, hauling her off to the party… or, the remnants of it, at least. You were now standing alone in the corridor with Tom. Still side by side, his arm around you.
You stepped in front of him, looking happier than you had felt in weeks.
“God, I could kiss you right now!” You had done it. Like, actually done it. You had managed to fool not only your mother but the Bridezilla herself.
“Go right ahead,” Tom smirked. You blinked.
“You said I could kiss you- well if you want to…”
“Oh, uhm, no, I didn’t mean it like- I mean… uhm- I mean-” you had no idea what you meant, and words were only getting harder and harder to form, but then Tom started laughing.
“It’s alright; I was just joking.” Was he, though? Or had you just made things really awkward? You didn’t know what to do anymore, so you decided to nod and smile awkwardly, and then proceed to make your way back to the party.
“y/n, wait.” Tom spurted out, making you turn around. He had his arm up behind his head, scratching his neck.
“Hmm?” You made your way back to him, even though that had been only a few steps. Tom looked at you but waited for a moment before he spoke.
“I uhh, wanted to apologise about the stuff I had said when we met. You know, about you being spoiled and whatnot.”
“You weren’t wrong,” you laughed it off, being very aware of your privilege and fortune in life.
“Maybe, but it wasn’t my place to say it. Besides, when I was upstairs, I could see you sitting at the table with your family and… again, not really my place to say anything, but I get it now; why you would want to do something like this. If my family was like that, I’d ruin my brother’s wedding too.”
“You have a brother?” Was that really the takeaway from his little speech? That was your response to all that he had said? You regretted it the second the words left your mouth- but Tom didn’t seem to mind.
“Yeah, 3 actually.” From his expression, you couldn’t tell if he saw it as a blessing or a curse. Well, knowing how siblings can be, you assumed a bit of both. Tom continued: “But anyway, I just wanted to say sorry.”
“You really don’t have to be, but… thanks,” and you kissed him on the cheek. He seemed a bit startled. Your lipstick was supposed to be long-lasting and not smudge, but a hint of the pigment stayed behind on his skin, merely looking like one of his cheeks was a bit more flustered than the other. So, not wanting him to walk around with that, you reached out to wipe the lipstick off. And you were in the middle of doing so when he reached up to put his hand over yours.
Surely, the lipstick would have been gone by now, but you were focused on his eyes, just like he was on yours. Neither of you noticed how you were moving closer to one another until your lips met in a soft kiss.
You could not explain your reasoning behind wanting to kiss him. In the last few days, there had been absolutely not one reason that would have made you eager to kiss him. Not one.... nope. There was nothing about him that drove you crazy and hot and bothered just looking at him. Not at all.
You could feel him flex his muscles at your touch, and the quick sensation brought back the images of Tom running through the dancefloor. It felt like a personal attack that you were able to have only seen him like that for such a small amount of time.
Tom squeezed your hip, and he was leading your bodies up to the wall, and you were prepared and more than eager to continue wherever this was going, but you had to remind yourself that this was the ground floor and people could walk in on you any second.
"Fuck," you gasped when your lips parted from his. "I'm sorry."
"That's not usually something one wants to hear after a kiss like that," Tom brushed his hair out of his face, "but indulge me, love, why are you sorry?"
"I shouldn't have kissed you without asking."
"Don't worry, I can take care of myself," he leaned in and softly kissed your jaw, "I'm not really the one to do something I don't want to do- and I don't think you are either. So just sat the word, and I'll stop." He kept peppering your skin with these kisses, leaving you in a frenzy. You could barely keep your eyes open, your vision getting slightly blurry as you couldn't bring yourself to focus on anything but his touch.
"We should... we should pro-" you tried to mutter out words, but it was getting harder and harder to do with Tom's hands and lips all over you.
"We should what, darling?" He paused his kisses to speak, and that one brief instant felt like an eternity.
"We should probably head upstairs." You really should have. After all, people could just walk by any moment. Neither of you was trying to hide anything, and it was just pure chance and luck that nobody, either guest or staff, had decided to walk through that corridor. And as much as you wanted to try and test that luck, the odds were most likely not in your favour, and you had already bumped into too many relatives in one day.
"Mhm, we probably should go,” he said and kissed you one last time. Only then did he take your hand and led you to the elevator. The fire in you started burning, and you didn't want to waste a second by just standing there. You tried to brush your fingers through his soft hair, but when you leaned in, he took a step back- out of the elevator.
"What the-" you sputtered out, confused and a bit annoyed. Tom just smirked.
"See you in the room," he checked his watch again, "in 5 minutes." And like that, the doors closed. Of course, you could have just opened them with a click of a button, but Tom clearly had something up his sleeve and you were intrigued, so you just clicked on the button for your floor and leaned against the wall with a sigh.
With no interruption from any salmon smelling aunties, the elevator ride went by much quicker this time, and you got out on your floor and made your way to your room. That is where you encountered Rebecca, knocking on the door. A pile of clothes under her arm.
"Ah, there you are. I think I got them all, so here- have you been making out?" She must have noticed something you didn't, or maybe she could smell it on you with her strange sixth sense because you had checked yourself out in the mirrored walls of the elevator and nothing seemed to be hinting at the fact you had just finished a pretty heavy make-out session with Tom. Rebecca smiled and pushed you playfully, knowing you too well and understanding when you didn't answer her question. Then she started looking around.
"Where is he?"
"He's actually coming up in a few minutes."
"Oh! Ok, ok, wait!" She pushed Tom's clothes into your arms and started to rummage through her bag. It took a bit, but eventually, she pulled out a handful of condoms. You gladly grabbed those from her, too, while managing to get your key out of your own purse without dropping anything and entered the room. Once inside, you dropped everything in your arms onto the empty chair in the corner.
Tom had given himself a window of five minutes, but having experienced men plenty of times in your life, you knew that would be more like ten to fifteen minutes before you heard the door opening. So, in that time, you tried to make yourself more comfortable around the room. Trying out different poses, figuring out which would be the most enticing for Tom to walk in on- which did feel a bit silly to do, but what else were you to do?
You had finally decided to simply, very casually, sit on the mattress when you heard a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” you said, though your original thought had been to shout “fuck off”.
“Room service,” the deep voice from the other side of the door said. You got up, ready to tell them that you had not ordered any room service and that they must have gotten the wrong room. But once you opened it, you were greeted with the handsome and sly smirk of Tom. He had his jacket hanging off his finger, over his shoulder, and in his hand a bottle of champagne.
“Sorry it took so long, I was trying to find where they were keeping the good stuff.” He walked in, unwrapping the gold foil on the cap. You looked with concern as he tried to pop it open, scared that he would shatter the window or possibly break your nose, but Tom was more skilled than you had expected, opening it with only a slight bang and barely anything spilling out. The cork fell right into his hand. He handed you the bottle, which you gladly accepted and took the first swing. Of course, you were already quite tipsy, and you knew Tom had drunk from the minibar before coming downstairs, so he wasn’t at his most sober either.
“What’s the occasion, actually?” You asked while handing him back the bottle.
“How about being a great team?” He drank. “The Bonnie and Clyde of weddings and revenge!”
“That might just be the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.” He didn’t deserve the champagne after that, so you quickly took it from him. After that sip, you put the bottle down and sat on the bed. Tom followed you, making you move back into the middle of the mattress as he pinned you in. His hands at your sides. He kept leaning in, and you leaned back until your head hit the duvet, and there was nowhere more for you to go but up for your lips to come up to his.
While you had been waiting for him, there had been a moment in which worries started to settle. You had been concerned about what it would be like once you were alone in a room with him. There was the obvious possibility of things being extremely awkward between the two of you. A little time had passed since the kiss in the hallway and either of your minds could have changed during. But it couldn't be further from the truth.
The kisses were haste and messy, and you were ready to tear off Tom’s shirt off his body when he pulled away from you.
“Mm,” he wiped his mouth, “I should probably tell you that the following services might cost you a bit extra.”
“Fuck off,” you smiled, kissing his neck.
“Mmm, as delightful a that sounds, I’d much rather,” Tom grabbed you by the leg, hiking your skirt back up like in that broom closet, “fuck you.”
Simply said, you had no comeback to that. There was nothing in you that wanted to stop that from happening. From your racing heartbeat to the heat that you could feel taking over you, it was becoming more and more of a necessity that needed to be taken care of. And Tom hadn't missed it. He was smiling as he kissed you; you could tell that he found your need for him entertaining. Especially when his hand had found its way under your skirt. The touch of his fingers against your panties made you buck your hips up at him.
"You're so wet for me, already," his words were slightly mumbled as he spoke against your lips, but you could hear him clearly. "What exactly has got you so hot and bothered, hmm?"
"I don't know what you mean," you tried to play coy, not give in to what he wanted, and it seemed to work.
"That's not the answer I was looking for, baby," Tom put his mouth up to your neck, and with each word passing his lips, and with each small puff of air, you felt the shivers go down your spine. And he just kept on going:
"Cause see," he stayed still, his mouth at your side and keeping the distance that he knew would get you riled up, "I saw the way you looked at me earlier. Or rather... where you looked. I bet you haven’t stopped thinking about me fucking you since, have you?"
He was unapologetically confident, which wasn't a bad look on him. He knew he looked good, and he wasn't afraid to flaunt it. That was probably why he had no problem stripping and running across a room filled with strangers. He had nothing to be self-conscious about.
At his words, you did think back to the party, seeing him, his body, running up to you. You couldn't deny that your eyes had wandered off a bit south, and yes, he was most definitely right that that image, and the idea of what was about to happen between you two, stayed to linger in your mind.
"So what if I did look at your cock, hmm?" you tried to sound as aloof as possible while Tom had occupied himself by kissing your neck and giving the most attention to your sensitive spot. It was getting harder and harder to do as his fingers were rubbing circles against your clit. Your disinterest was beginning to be even harder to prove when you dug your nails into his shoulder, biting down a moan.
"I mean," you wrangled out, "don't pretend like you haven't been staring at my tits the whole day."
"What can I say? This dress looks amazing on you." Tom leaned down and kissed your cleavage, right above the hem of the dress. "And I bet it will look even better on the floor."
"Ouch, nope. That was actually sad, try again." men and their dumb pick-up lines, way to ruin the mood. Unbelievable. And your reaction must have thrown Tom off a bit from his plan, as his arms tensed over you, but he quickly came back.
"You know what, sweetheart,” his hand moved up and down your thigh, “the more you talk, the more I want to take back what I said earlier. You're so fucking spoiled I just want to rip this pretty number off you, and teach you a lesson. Completely ruin you while you beg for me. How does that sound?"
Every instinct that went through your head felt like the wrong thing to say. You didn't want to give in with what he was suggesting, not wanting to give him that satisfaction, but at the same time, if you would play the brat, wouldn't that be precisely what he'd like? And wouldn't it be more fun anyway? While thinking through the possibilities, the imaginary timer must have gone off, and you had been taking a bit too long to answer for Tom's liking as he spread your legs and slapped your thigh. It wasn't hard enough to leave any mark of feeling behind, but the sensation was there, and it was enough to get you to respond.
"It doesn't sound... Too bad." You looked up at him with innocent eyes. Or, in a way that you, at least, hoped to resemble innocence. But the look that had been so successful over the years, with getting you exactly what you wanted, had barely any effect on Tom. He, instead, smiled sweetly at you, almost making you think you had him under your spell, but then he cupped your face in his large hand, squeezing your cheeks in a way that almost felt humiliating. Almost.
"You can play your little games when you're with some fuckwit you pick up at a bar, y/n, but I'm not here for that. So you better be a good girl and listen to me, understood?" He looked deep into your eyes, and with his hand holding on to you, you couldn't help but nod along. Who would have thought that he had a side like that to him? It was exhilarating, to say the least, and it made you eager to test his limits.
Your response wasn't good enough, however. His fingers squeezed the tiniest bit harder into your cheeks.
When he released, you mumbled out a weak "yes". To this, Tom raised his eyebrow. Maybe he wasn't sure if you were willing to continue or how far you wanted it to go, but that was all he did. Then his smile came back, and he let his thumb move over your lips. You tried not to move, not wanting to look too eager- you still didn’t want to give him that kind of satisfaction just yet, but you had also not really been used to wanting to please a guy so much. You were usually the type to find a guy in a bar to hook up with and, hopefully, get a climax out of it. But Tom- he felt different. When he touched you, you could tell that as much pleasure as it was giving him, he actually wanted you to feel that too. Still, you were never one to give up your place easily.
For a second, nothing happened, and that second was enough for you to comb your fingers through his curls, pull him down and kiss him.
What you also tried to do was wrap your legs around him and change positions, so you were on top, but that didn't seem to pan out. Tom stayed settled on his spot, one of his knees planted sturdily between your legs.
"That was pretty cute, I have to admit," he teased, making you want to push him off the bed, but then he started to hike your dress up further and further. Past your hips. He wanted it off you, just like you did yourself. Tom must have forgotten about the zipper that was on the side because when the dress began to get stuck over your chest, you had to help him awkwardly pull it down again, and he unzipped it. With the material now loose around you, you got up a little and let him take it off you completely.
Once you were only in your underwear, he finally took care of his shirt, pulling it off his back and disregarding it onto the chair where you had put down his old clothes. That reminded you-
"Ooh, wait." you tapped his shoulder and Tom, without question, immediately got off you. He lay down on his side and watched you get up. Then, before he could ask what was wrong, you made your way to the chair and pulled one condom off its long chain.
“Someone’s eager,” he laughed to himself, clearly amused at the long chain of condoms that you had prepared there. You didn’t care to explain. At the end of the day, you were both just happy that they were there. Walking back to bed, you were making sure to remember to thank Rebecca later.
Tom took your hand and pulled you on top of him, smiling. You had never been the one to fall for these kinds of little things, never even being the one to fall for someone in the first place, but every time he smiled, you couldn't help but feel a little flutter inside.
"You're really pretty, you know that?" You said, meaning it playfully but not hiding an ounce of truth behind the statement. Tom's eyes locked with yours. Then, for a second, they filled up with a glimmer of- something. You couldn't quite tell. He brushed some hair out of your face, and by the light smirk hooking at the corner of his mouth, you were prepared to hear some snarky comment in return.
"You're really pretty, too."
The moods between the two of you kept switching, to the point that your head felt like it was spinning... or maybe that was just the result of Tom helping you sit up on his lap, his hands over your hips, while you had leaned forward to kiss him again. The taste of the champagne lingered in both of you. As the kiss went on, you let your hips roll over his. To this, Tom responded with a quick but deep groan. One of his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing it gently. He was holding himself in for you; that much was clear. Which was sweet, but you missed that part of him that made you want to get down on your knees for him- again, a very new and strange feeling, but it was not unwelcome.
So, when he squeezed again, you made sure to let him know you enjoyed it. You then bucked your hips and moaned his name softly but audibly.
"Oh, fuck," he seemed to have enjoyed that. And if you had not gotten that, there was the fact that his trousers began to get tighter and tighter around his dick. You could feel him get harder with each move you made.
The trousers were really becoming a problem, both of you realised that, so in an unspoken agreement, you got off and Tom hopped off the bed. However, it was clear that the constant switching of positions was becoming a nuisance to both of you, and before Tom took off his clothing, he grabbed the bottle of champagne, taking a generous chug from it, and handed it to you.
You sipped slowly from it, not taking your eyes off of Tom. He had already lost his shirt earlier, and the sigh of his body was, simply put, fantastic. When he had run through the wedding party, everything happened so fast, and by the end of it, you were a bit sad that you didn't have more time. Was that objectifying Tom in a sense? Fuck, maybe?
When he took his last items of clothing and looked up at you, you were unapologetically looking him over, up and down, with a smile.
"Enjoying the view?" He said, not even trying to be shy about it.
"It's not bad."
"Do I really need to fuck that attitude out of you?" He raised a challenging brow, to which you only shrugged. Without saying another word, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. Tom's eyes were basically glued to your chest. You let it hang in your hand for a moment before throwing it aside. It was like a race flag going up, as the moment the bra hit the floor, Tom jumped back into bed, and you sat up. You met halfway, both on your knees in front of each other. Both naked, ready to take the next step... you just didn't know how.
"So..." you muttered out, regretting it immediately. Nothing made a situation more awkward than acknowledging the awkwardness- which was what you had essentially just done with that one word.
Or maybe that was all in your head, because Tom grabbed you by the hip and pulled you close to him, chest to chest.
"Not doing anything we don't want to do, right?" He asked, his voice now much more gentle and caring but never losing an ounce of desire through it. You looked at him and nodded, to which he kissed the corner of your mouth.
He kept peppering your skin with light kisses until he spoke again, in a tone sweeter than honey. "Gonna be my good girl?"
You were melting into his words and his touch. You could barely comprehend when his fingers found their way back between your legs. Your hips bucked up against him as he moved slowly, sensually, agonizingly and teasingly against you. A soft moan, or maybe more of a frustrated whine, passed your lips in need of friction.
"Answer me, love, and I'll give you what you want." He was smirking, loving the effect he had on you, and you couldn't even be mad about it yourself.
"Yes," you gasped out, and Tom didn't waste a second to press his fingers against your clit, rubbing circles, finding your most sensitive pressure points to bring you to that tip of ecstasy. He kept up with the motions, moving faster, slipping through your folds and going deeper with each thrust.
However, as good as it felt, the position the two of you were in felt a bit uncomfortable. You didn't really know what to do with yourself while your body was begging for some action.
"Mmm, Tom," you mumbled against his lips. They were bright pink and slightly swollen, but you thought he looked terrific. Not to mention his hair, which was now losing its styled shape, his curls coming up from all different directions as you grabbed them. And his eyes, once golden brown, now turning darker with need.
He didn't stop his movements but hummed, letting you know he was listening.
"Could I maybe-" an unknown shyness was taking over you, and suddenly, you had lost the ability to speak. And it didn't help that when your voice shut down, Tom looked at you with those eyes of his, pushed that rogue strand of hair out of your face and asked:
"What is it, darling?" So innocently, as if his fingers were not deep inside you and soaked in your juices.
You still didn't know how to say it, so instead, you let your hand wander down his body. Over his abs, to his hip and then finally over his cock. Tom hissed in a breath at the touch but got back into his mindset reasonably quickly.
"Wanna suck my cock, love?" His hand, in return, went up to your ass and squeezed it.
"You'd probably like that, wouldn't you?" The confidence was, thankfully, coming back into you. As much as you seemed to be enjoying letting Tom take control, that feeling of submission was still foreign to you. Not unwelcome, but strange. You were simply testing out the waters- both for yourself and for Tom. Who knows, maybe he would want to switch it up a little, too?
"I can give you a good time," You kissed his neck, just below the ear, "just tell me what to do." And you could practically feel the shivers that ran over his skin at your words. You were currently in a kind of mid-space. Taking control by letting him tell you what to do. It made sense for a tiny bit, but by the tension that had arisen between you and the heat in the room, it seemed to be working.
"How about you get down on the ground and let me fuck your pretty little mouth, then?" He kissed you once more to seal the deal, and once you pushed away, you made your way off the bed to sit in front of it, with enough space for Tom to stand up.
"You know," you got yourself a bit more comfortable while beginning to slowly stroke his length. "I don't usually do this." And you blinked slowly, letting your eyelashes flutter for Tom. You could tell what he was thinking. He was ready to see your makeup start running down your face as he made you his and that thought only made you more eager to get a move on.
"And what would this be?" He patted your head, moving his head softly over your hair.
"Letting a guy toss me around." You kissed his tip, still not breaking the eye contact that you had set up between you.
"Oh, if you think this is tossing around," he chuckled. His grip on your hair got tighter, "You've seen nothing yet."
You knew that, but fuck, you couldn't wait to see how far he was willing to go. Maybe not this time, things between you were still relatively fresh, and it was never good to go all-in for the first time. But... perhaps another time. If it would ever happen. What were you even thinking? Next time? You would probably never see Tom again. This was just what happened when two people got drunk at weddings.
Did you want more to happen, though? That thought hadn't crossed your mind before. And it still didn't feel right. But, no, it wasn't the time to think about these things.
You quickly let your head clear up from all the confusing thoughts and focused on what was happening at the moment. Tom was standing in front of you, hard and already leaking precum.
You gave his tip another kiss. You wanted to take your time. Well, not really. But you did want to tease the living fuck out of Tom, and sometimes that called for a bit of sacrifice on your part. Slowly, you took him into your mouth. Pulling out and each time you leaned in, attempted to go a bit further until he reached the back of your throat.
"Oh, fuck, yes!" He groaned, grabbing your hair and letting his hips move back and forth. You let your jaw slack, trying to relax as much as possible while you focused on your breathing while Tom sped up in his movements. The longer he went on, the more difficult it became to stay somewhat composed. Of course, it wasn't really necessary in a situation like that, but a girl could try.
Your knees started to burn as they dug into the small carpet you were sitting on. As Tom kept on going, he went deeper, making you gag slightly- but that only seemed to spur him on. And just like he wanted, the mascara was running down your cheeks. You needed to release the tension between your legs, so while still looking up at Tom, you started to play with yourself.
This kept going for a bit longer, and when Tom started to slow down, you were getting ready for a release, preferably your own, but then he pulled away. You gasped for air and clenched your thighs together, not wanting to think about the disappointment that no one had probably even come close to finishing.
Tom took your hand and helped you get up, and once you were up on your feet, he kissed you deeply.
"You look so fucking gorgeous." He looked over every inch of your face taking in the mess he had caused. And to make things worse, or maybe better, he took his thumb and wiped around the last remaining staining of your lipstick. The pigment must have wiped off for the most parts since the last time you had reapplied it, but Tom was making his own little masterpiece on your face. And he sealed it off with one more kiss.
You wanted to enjoy this moment, but all you could think about was the feeling of him against you. He was still hard, and you were gnawing for a release at this point, feeling like your body was on fire.
"Get the condom, please," you would never call yourself a beggar, but you had come close at that moment. Tom chuckled at your slight desperation and turned around, grabbed the silver packet, ripped it open with his teeth, and put on the condom a bit hastily.
The tension was growing, as well as the anticipation for that one moment of contact. But, of course, Tom stopped.
"Do you trust me?" He asked, his hand on your side.
"A bit more since the last time you asked," you couldn't help but smile, and he joined in.
"Good to know, but please, be honest. Do you?" You looked into each other's eyes. In the time that you spend together, at your house, in the car, at the reception, here, Tom had done nothing to offend your trust. On the contrary, he had helped you bring your plan to fruition; he treated you well and made you feel amazing.
"Yes, Tom, I trust you." You said.
"Ok, jump." And so, like he asked, you did. You jumped up a little, and he caught your legs with ease. While he held you, you couldn't stop looking at the way his muscles flexed as he carried you over to the window. Oh, so that's what he had in mind, then.
He pressed you against the window, and you gasped as your back hit the glass.
"Oh shit, that's cold," you said. Tom quickly pulled you away. Then, thinking fast while still being wrapped around Tom, you reached out for the large curtain and pulled it across to you, so you could lean against that instead of the glass. Half of the room was now set in darkness, but plenty of light still came from the other half of the window.
Tom pressed you against the curtain, this now feeling soft and warmer against your bare skin, and a bit awkwardly, he pushed into you. Your giggles that had filled the room while Tom had tried to position himself exchanged for a loud moan. If there was anyone in the room next door, there was no doubt that they could hear you.
"You're so tight, fuck," Tom groaned as he stretched out your walls. You held on to him tightly as he fucked you harder. With each of his thrusts, you were hitting the window, so you were glad that the soft curtain stayed between you, but the rings at which it was hanging kept rattling a bit dangerously.
"I- I think," you moaned instead of finishing your sentence, "I think we should move back to the bed before the curtains rip off-f-fuck!"
"Good idea, baby," Tom agreed, probably noticing the noise as well. "How about you ride my cock for a bit, hmm?"
Though the window idea was short-lived, it had been enjoyable, and it brought you to this moment. Tom sat down on the bed, his back against the headboard, and you quickly got on top, not wanting to waste another second. Things were messy between you two, far from perfect, but in a way, that's what made it so good. It was authentic and pure desire.
The new position hit in a new way, and it might have been even better. You had to try around for a bit before finding the right rhythm, but once you got there, each movement hit you with another wave of pleasure.
Tom had one of his hands on your hip, but he had made sure he was sitting up when you got on his lap, so he could give your breast all the attention they deserved. While he played with one in his palm, he had his mouth around the other. When he let his teeth graze over your nipple, both of you were surprised by the sound you made. It was a high pitched sort of moan caused by a sensation unknown to you until then. Tom got the hint and did it again, on the other.
"Fuck, Tommy," you grabbed for his hair and tried to change up the way you moved to get some more friction. Tom helped out a bit by meeting your hips with his thrusts, and each time you moved at the right moment, you felt him hit the perfect spot within you. You were getting close. But you didn't say anything, just kept on grinding. By the way that most of the evening had gone by, you had the idea that if you had announced your climax to Tom, he'd tell you to wait. Do not do anything until he gives you permission.
So, with another powerful thrust, you let your release flood over you. Then, with a high pitched moan and stars in front of your eyes, you rode your high on him. Your legs, as well as your arms, were shaking. Although you had planned on going on for a bit longer to help Tom get there as well, you simply couldn't. All you managed to do was fall over to the front against Tom's chest, your head on his shoulder. He held you close, still in you, caressing your hair.
"I'd have expected you to carry on for a bit longer, love," he smiled and kissed your temple. To this, you just swatted at his arm and laughed.
"Just give me a moment, unless you'd rather finish yourself off in the bathroom?" You smiled sheepishly.
That put the fear in him, and Tom shut up. But he kept on kissing any possible spot of your skin that he could reach from the position you were in. And, since he was still inside you, the tiniest movements from either of you caused a shockwave of stimulation.
"Did I actually ever apologize?" you whispered, not sure if Tom had fallen asleep.
"What are you talking about?" He mumbled, clearly confused.
"About calling you an asshole. Did I apologize?"
"Which time?" He snickered. "You tend to call me that a lot, I've noticed."
"I meant the first time. On the street."
"Hmm," he thought for a second, "I can't remember, honestly. But apology accepted." He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled in closer to you.
Maybe your first climax had come a bit early, but it sure as hell wasn't the last. It turned out to be a long and unforgettable night.
As the night had gone on, the bottle of champagne had finished and was now lying under the chair, haphazardly discarded. The curtain was still half-closed, and the floor was covered in thrown pieces of clothing.
Even though not all things had gone as planned, in the end, you couldn't wish for it to go any differently. Somehow, for once, things seemed to be working out in your favour.
Hell, while your entire family was still running around the hotel in panic and confusion, trying to find the man that had seemingly ruined everything, you were wrapped in his arms, falling asleep, not even realizing that both of you had found... something in each other. You still hadn't quite figured out what that something was, but it didn’t matter. It felt good, nice, and no matter how long it would last, you didn't want to let go of it just yet.
The End
> thank you so much for reading!! It would mean the world to me if you reblogged and please let me know what you thought through a comment or ask (or even DM <3)
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blindingdutchy · 3 months ago
No but tom fucking me while he wears a hoodie is something I have spent a LOT of time thinking about
okay okay, i couldn't see this and NOT write something so...
lazy lover | t.holland
{boyfriend!tom x fem!reader}
word count: 2,022
warnings: smut... as expected
warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), oral (f receiving)
Moments like these were your absolute favorite. Just you and Tom, cuddled up on the sofa with the soft illumination of the television solely lighting the room. It was storming outside--loud, heavy rumbles of thunder shaking the house slightly, and you could just barely make out the startling flashes of lightning over the tops of the closed drapes.
Perfect weather for snuggles and scary movies, but Tom being the softy he is absolutely refused to watch anything of the sort. So, you'd resigned to watching some romantic comedy for the millionth time. If you were honest, you hadn't watched a single moment of it; instead, you had spent the past hour just closing your eyes in bliss as you carded your fingers through your boyfriend's messy curls and smiled each time he giggled at the screen.
He was your favorite movie, by far. You wished you could see his face, but from this angle you could just barely make out the adorable crinkle of his nose each time he grinned. Tom was sprawled out on top of you, his head nestled over the middle of your chest, and his legs were all tangled up with your own as he laid between them.
It was more than a little stifling in the room as you were caught up in the heat of his body radiating through his lavender hoodie and your own, both of your sweatpants clad lower limbs wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. Somehow, in both of your minds, the storm had translated to meaning cold, when in fact that was far from the case. It was cozy, though, and that made up for the slight dampening on your hairline.
"Hm?" you hummed, that all too familiar flutter in your heart buzzing out through your body at the sound of Tom's sweet voice.
He nuzzled his face further into your chest, nose buried in the space between your breasts as his hot breathe scorched you through the fabric. "Mmmf yew," he mumbled, and you chuckled at the muffled sound of his words. Picking up his head, your breathe hitched at the darkened hue of his eyes beneath heavy lashes as he repeated, "Miss you."
Cozy turned to hot in an instant. In all the time you'd been dating Tom, you'd come to know one thing--miss you was not something he ever said when you'd been apart for too long. No, miss you was only spoken whenever the two of you had been too close for too long, and he was missing a little something more.
Tom's arms wrapped tighter around your middle, his face burying back into the bunched fabric between your breasts as he lazily pressed opened mouthed kisses through the soft cotton. He left a trail of wet patches in his wake, and your fingers froze in his hair as he found your hardened nipple under your shirt and wrapped his lips around it. "Tom." you gasped.
You tugged at his hair gently, coaxing his face away from your now dampened shirt to look at you. His lips were puffy and reddened from the fabric, a few pressure marks stretching across his right cheek, and he looked so... soft. He looked warm and inviting, like a mug of hot cocoa on a cold winter evening or a crackling fire during a snow storm.
Not a word had to be said for him to know what you wanted. He scooted up the sofa and further over your body until his center was pressed into yours, his lips coming down onto your own in a lazy, slow kiss. You sighed into him, parting his lips with your own as you abandoned his hair to slip your hands under his sweatshirt and trace your fingers over his bare skin.
It was languid and sleepy, like a fire that had burned itself down to a hot, glowing ember. Tom's arms were planted on either side of your head, caging you in place as he dragged his kiss from your lips and down to your jaw. He nipped at the sensitive skin behind your ear, swiping his tongue over the flesh until you whined and he sucked hard to leave a mark of his own.
"Tom, please," you whimpered, rocking your hips up into him, "I need you."
He grinned into your neck, leaving another mark for good measure before he sat up onto his knees between your legs. There was something so beautiful about him like that; this soft, sweet man bundled up in cozy layers that heavily contrasted the dark, heady burn of his gaze. His fingers tugged at the waistband of your pants, and you lifted your hips to help him drag them from your legs--panties too, leaving you bare aside from the baggy sweatshirt that had ridden up your stomach.
Eyes glued to the warmth between your legs, Tom licked his lips, "Fuck, I've missed you so much."
You bit your lip hard, shivering as his fingers ghosted over the chilled skin of your now bare thigh. Already knowing exactly what he was thinking of, you pleaded, "Please, I just want you--"
"Hush, darling," he simpered, "I want to have a taste."
Tom climbed off of the sofa, dropping to his knees on the floor beside you as he grasped your hips in his hands. Thumbs soothing over the skin, he pulled until your legs were dangling from the edge and your core was inches from his face. His eyes truly sparkled then, glimmering at you lustfully as he smiled to himself.
He didn't waste any time teasing, and your hands fluttered helplessly around you to try and ground yourself when you felt his lips wrap mercilessly around your clit. Diving in head first, literally, Tom gripped your thighs to keep them spread apart as he licked fat stripes through your folds. Sparks shot through your entire body each time he curled his tongue around your bud, swirling and sucking around the nub tirelessly.
It was a little pathetic how easily he pulled you to the edge, your stomach all twisted up in knots as you trembled all over. What else was to be expected though, when the two of you had been together for so long? Tom knew your body like the back of his hand, an expert in all the little things that made you tick--like the way his eyes flickered up to watch you watch him make you feel good.
The sight of his brown eyes watching you like a hunter watching his prey, dark and greedy, got you every time. Squeezing your thigh, Tom teasingly kissed your clit and pulled away with a cheeky wink at your groan of frustration. The tension in the pit of your stomach ebbed away, the quivering of your legs ceasing as he patted your hip and mumbled, "Slide up, princess."
Cooing at the name you loved to hear him speak, you scooted back up the sofa until your head fell onto the armrest once more. He didn't even take his pants off when he climbed back up between your legs, arms caging in your head once more. His lips tasted of you as he kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth as you tugged at his pants eagerly.
"Please, Tommy, I miss you."
Tom's breathe hitched at the sound of you speaking his words, and a little desperately he inched his pants down just enough to free his length from them. You moaned at the sensation of his warm skin falling against your thigh, his tip slipping across the slick mess dripping down your legs. Not wanting to wait for him to make the first move, you reached down to wrap your fingers around him.
He hissed at the contact, hips instinctively rutting into the contact as he groaned, "Fuck, princess--"
The words were lost as you dragged his tip through your folds, teasing your clit for a moment before lining him up. His eyes screwed shut as he sank into you, lips parted in a silent oath, and he crumpled down until his chest was pressed to your own. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you clutched the fabric of his sweatshirt in tight fists as you arched off the couch in pleasure.
Giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch, Tom buried his face into your neck with a muffled moan, "Always feel so perfect, princess. So tight f'me every time."
Tom rocked into you slowly, nudging deeper and making you whimper as you clenched around him. You didn't have to say a word for him to get the message--his hips pulling back before pushing forward again deeply. It felt as if you could feel every last bit of him; every line and ridge of his length dragging along your walls perfectly as you moaned.
You were clawing at his back, fingers slipping over the cotton that was somehow far more slippery than bare skin. If you had thought it was hot in the room before, it was nothing compared to the sweltering temperature between the two of you in that moment. Your hoodie was bunching further under your breasts with each of Tom's thrusts, the fabric of his own scratching at your bare skin from multiple angles.
Sure, you'd had sex with clothes on plenty of times. Rushed and risky encounters in pub bathrooms, your dress bunched up around your hips and his trousers pulled down to his thighs, but this? Tom, suddenly so desperate for you, fully dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants on the sofa? This was new, and it was hot.
The movements were lazy and slow, his lips sleepily suckling at your neck as he panted into your skin and moaned in your ear huskily. You were a withering mess, sweating all over and trying to hold onto him in any way you could to keep from drifting away in bliss. Each sloppy thrust into your heat had you calling his name, begging for that release to finally wash over you.
"Tom, 'm close."
He leaned further onto one arm, lifting the opposite shoulder to slip his hand between the two of you. His hips never faltered as he swiped his fingers through the slick mess between your legs, swirling around your clit smoothly. "Cum for me, princess, wanna feel you." he encouraged, dark eyes blearing down at you hazily.
His cheeks were all red, and his curls were sticking to his forehead with sweat. Lips parting, you panted desperately for air as your stomach began to tighten immeasurably. It was almost too much--the look of him, the feel of his cock languidly finding its home deep within you, over and over. His fingers still rubbing slow, deep circles to your sensitive bundle.
With a sharp inhale, you cried out, "T-Tom!"
The knots in your belly exploded, stars bursting in your eyes as you clenched your entire body around him. Thighs squeezing his waist tightly, fingers clawing so harshly into his sweatshirt you finally found purchase in the skin of his back, and your walls clamped down around his length. "Oh, fuck, princess!" he heaved, eyes screwing shut and nose crinkling as he stuttered in his movements.
Tom's lips parted in a guttural cry before he dropped onto you entirely, arm pinned between you as he continued to ride you through your orgasm with his fingers. He pulsed inside of you, and after a few seconds he gave a loud sigh as a warmth spread through you. Your legs were trembling as you dropped them onto the sofa again, smoothing over the fabric of his hoodie as you finally released your grip.
But, when he moved to pull away, you pulled him back and mumbled sleepily, "Can we just stay like this for a bit?"
Smiling with heavy eyelids, Tom nodded and kissed you softly, easing back down again. You groggily brushed the curls from his forehead and grinned back, humming in appreciation when he rested his head on your shoulder again. His lips ghosted over your neck as he murmured, "I love you, darling. S'much."
"I love you, Tom."
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vendettaparker · a month ago
Nik Recommends—Tom Holland Edition
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*= smut ★= angst ♡= fluff (there’s so much, i had to add the ‘keep reading’ feature)
hooked on your feelings*♡★ by @heyhihellowhatsup0
miscommunications*★♡ & part two*★♡ by @arvinsescape
everything to me*♡★ by @arvinsescape
worst travel day ever ★ by @trashinaglass
devilish* by @blindingdutchy
arms length*♡ by @wazzupmrstark
no nut november* & part two* & part three* by @wazzupmrstark
dripping syrup* by @little-diable
confess to me* by @little-diable
(re)boud*★ & part two*♡ by @justapurrcat
paint the grass green*♡★ by @lauras-collection
spill your guts* by @princessofguineapigs
london boy*♡ by @tonguetiedholland
not prick ★ by @dlwritings
aftercare*♡★ by @dlwritings
curiosity bit the cat* by @spidey-sophie
spyke of pleasure* by @spidey-sophie
red light* by @spidey-sophie
unlatched* by @spidey-sophie
a lifetime ahead of us*♡ by @hollandcrush
closing time* by @greenorangevioletgrass
learn your place* by @marvelouspeterparker
professor’s sweetheart*♡ by @marvelouspeterparker
tension and temptation*♡ & part two*♡ by @marvelouspeterparker
teacher!tom*♡ by @marvelouspeterparker
i’ve always got you ♡★ by @t-lostinworlds
not going anywhere ♡★ by @t-lostinworlds
the fame game*♡★ by @duskholland
getting his fill* by @duskholland
settle*♡ by @duskholland
adore*♡ by @duskholland
taunt* by @duskholland
no control* by @duskholland
lingerie* by @duskholland
one million* by @duskholland
crash into you*♡ by @duskholland
the sweet spot*♡ by @duskholland
break my heart ♡ by @rosyparkers
high quality hittin’* by @rosyparkers
borderline* by @rosyparkers
bubblegum pop* by @rosyparkers
birdie* by @rosyparkers
bliss among sinners* by @rosyparkers
siren* by @rosyparkers
give me your all*♡ by @kidney9-9
i’ve just seen a face ♡ by @waitimcomingtoo
to the bone ★ by @waitimcomingtoo
swedish fish ♡ by @waitimcomingtoo
valentine’s day blues ★♡ by @waitimcomingtoo
champagne problems ★♡ by @waitimcomingtoo
bfb ♡ by @waitimcomingtoo
hold my heart*♡ by @peterbenjiparker
love on set*♡ by @selfcarecap
sunkissed* ★♡ by @duskholland
constantly adding more…
566 notes · View notes
lovewasted · 24 days ago
always, i’ll care | tom holland
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request— ‘dad!tom being really freaked out that you are pregnant and he goes to harrison and he's like so i’m gonna be a dad. how did that happen. and haz is like: well when two people love each other... just to tease tom, but after he goes home and he is just super clingy cause he's gonna have a baby with the love of his life’
warnings— dadtobe!tom, haz, established relationship, language, fluff, suggestive talk, mentions of food, mate (as it can be found offensive to some, tom doubting himself, though it is something tom and his friends refer to eachother as).
notes— this instantly got my hopes up after what happened to my requests and drafts. thank you to everyone requesting it means more than you know. lmk if i should do headers more often.
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Sweatiest palms he’s likely endured.
Worse than any award show.
More disastrous than any premiere event.
Tom’s pacing is making Harrison’s hair stand up on the back of his neck. Mainly because he’s been compiling the same stance since he arrived with no reason behind it. He’s radiating the anxiousness to Harrison, and it’s enough to make the unknowns blare.
"Mate y'making the room hot. What the hell's happened?" Harrison reiterated, seeing as this was his forth time asking. He's tempted to jump in front of Tom and shake some sense into him. The beige aromatic display of Harrison's apartment, should've been calming really but Tom's bouncing off the walls. Perhaps it's denial or disbelief, either way he's clammy and has tremors.
"C'mon m' a big boy. I can handle it."
Has tried to make light of the situation, patting his now positioned friend on the back. Even the leather of the couch felt as if it was baking in an oven due to Tom's exasperated breathing and heavy perspirating. His slouched manner conceded Harrison, not much could typically evoke Tom yet— this. This tops it all.
“S-she’s pregnant Haz...”
Harrison was having trouble understanding Tom’s dilemma. Since they were boys he recalled Tom having built an imaginative little family out of stick figures. It had always been bet on that out of Harrison, Tom, and Tuwaine that Tom would be the first to have a child, his response was always ‘gonna’ be a better dad than the both of you.’
“Just... uh just found out yesterday.”
Harrison couldn’t help the chuckle that erupted in the back of his throat. Dumbfounded as tp what the actual matter at hand was. He was bound to be an actual uncle or God father, whilst Tom was in full panic mode.
“You’ve dreamt about a family mate?”
“S’ cold feet I guess... don’t know how it happened,” Tom’s voice was raspy. Straining from panic— he practically worshiped you. The sense of differentiating between becoming a father and navigating infatuation with you might’ve been a mission he couldn't accomplish.
Self doubt at its finest.
Though he needed to get in check timely, because the two of you can’t function without the other.
“Well, you and y/n love each other right? So when two people love each other, they make—“
“Could really do without the shitty jokes, div.”
A ton of bricks pressured Tom’s chest, biting at the insides of his cheeks. Nails digging into his flesh until crescent moons formed. Harrison itching for his childhood companion to realize his worth.
“What’s there to be worried about, bro? The baby will have a kickass mom and a dad that will be wrapped around their finger. You will quite literally have the perfect family.”
Harrison’s index finger prodded the center of Tom’s chest, his touseled curls sticking to the harshness of his forehead. Warmth sparked in the pits of his stomach— such a compliment is irrevocable to come by. Reassurance has Tom’s heart fluttering and moving past the crisis that had just occurred within his thoughts. Knowing Tom like the back of his hand, was prominent in needing to subside his worries.
Thereafter the realization, desiring to race home and relish in every minuscule part of his wife’s sculpted figure.
Solemnly figuring he’d have fallen to the gift pf a child anyway.
“Thinking Tuwaine will be the favorite uncle.”
“Ah, fuck you Holland.”
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Tom’s thick voice hallowed. Depths of it absorbing into the walls of the house. Arriving quicker than you anticipated considering he was going to Harrison. You’d assumed beers and taking shos would be in the mix. The news of pregnancy irked Tom’s established humbleness, hiding it amazingly well.
So well, you hadn’t acknowledged his misgiving in the wake of your elation. He yearned to feel the pleasure you felt, though it was there— the pleasure was drowned out by skepticism.
Coming to the conclusion, he would rather keep the miscommunication between him and Harrison. Hoping for nothing but wonderous energy for every trimester. Possibly, that’s the cause of his longing to cling to you and the child.
Skin crawling to even be sat beside his significant other.
He simply wanted to share oxygen, and get lost inside of your lungs.
“In here!”
You echoed back from the living room, phone screen stuck on images of baby clothes with a spoon full of peanut butter coating the inside of your mouth. One of the plenty cravings, seemed to be normal compared to the usual outrageous ones. That and the late period, triggered the taking of a pregnancy test.
His sock-clad feet pad toward the soft white ribbed sofa. Muscular arms enveloping your neck to meet at your color bone, easily relaxing into the familiar scent. Fresh vanilla with a hint of lavender, your lips pucker to press a tender peck to his wrist bone. Thanking him for his all-around existence and Tom receives instant relief from the small gesture.
“Hi darling, missed you.”
“Hi baby.”
“Don’t worry. Only gave Haz the ‘uncle talk’.”
“Hm, how’d it go?”
“Like shit, cause’ you weren’t there.”
His mumbles to the hair on your head were soothing—soothing enough for your eyes to want to blink shut. Fingertips tracing miscellaneous shapes on your collar bone. Something scared to have found someone dedicated to being a husband and father. Your cheeks bloom with rosiness, delighted with his movements.
Ring finger scooping beneath your chin to slightly maneuver your lips toward his position of hovering over the couch. A grin accompanied his features, the same grin that was able to make softcore possible, and the same grin that makes wholesomeness wander throughout your being. Lowering himself, he crashes his lips onto yours. Repositioning his head to gain every mold imaginable to your pair, he ailed the chase. Tingles to bury his tongue alongside yours, swirling and pressing the tips of the muscle together. Solely to end with pressing his forehead to yours, glad that you accepted his clinginess willingly because it wasn’t in his schedule anytime soon.
“Just made out with a jar of peanut butter.”
You swat at his arm, only to emit a fit of laughter from the both of you.
“Your child wanted peanut butter.”
“S’ mad that I put a baby in there.”
Your starstruck at his hand traveling down to your stomach, bump too early to be visible. Yet he’s full of luster anyhow.
“In the back of a limo.”
Only to earn a smirk from Tom at your reply— overly cheeky.
“That dress was bloody insane, had to lovie.”
Passing feverently over the womb, an ear-to-ear smile. partially at the night the couple reminisced on and mainly to the small human that’s growing inside of you. Glowing so hard he swore he wouldn’t be able to stop even if he tried.
“Can’t wait to see your belly big and round, let love. Gonna’ kiss it all over, every second.”
373 notes · View notes
ptersmj · 3 months ago
make a wish
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w/c: 4.6k
warnings: swearing, tom being a lil drama queen, and harrison is a div
summary: you always go all out for tom’s birthday, but you’ve forgotten it this year… or have you?
a/n: oh my god i can’t believe tom is 25 today like a whole 25 years of him on this planet !!!!! wow? i wrote this as kinda my gift but it’s really for y’all so i hope you enjoy hehe <3 happy international tom day :D
a grin sets on tom’s face before he even opens his eyes. he’s waited an entire year for this day to come, and here it finally is.
there are a couple of reasons why his birthday has always been a favorite. the biggest is that everyone nearest and dearest to his heart gathers to celebrate it — family, friends, and his wonderful girlfriend. tom loves nothing more than to be surrounded by his people, laughing until he can hardly breathe. he truly looks forward to those special moments.
less sentimentally, tom is also very fond of a good cake. sam usually bakes one for him. it’s convenient his little brother is good in the kitchen because it saves him from going gift shopping. tom can’t wait to see what’s on the menu this time.
he’s eager to get today started, and he has his best girl to do so with. you make all the festivities miles more fun, which tom didn’t know was possible until you lit up his life. you’re probably more excited than him for his twenty fifth year around the sun.
tom is beaming as he rolls over to pull you in closer. birthday cuddles will be his first present, he decides. much to tom’s dismay, you’re not actually there. your side of the bed is empty. that’s… odd.
it’s still fairly early, so he’s not sure where you could’ve gone. tom assumes you just had to use the bathroom. you two did drink your weight in wine last night, pregaming for today.
that, or you’re whipping up some breakfast in bed. you’d done it for him last year. the meal was such a hit that you might have ended up trying it again. tom isn’t opposed to either, as long as you’re back in his arms soon.
like you can read tom’s mind, which you probably can, you appear in your shared bedroom. he’d expected you to arrive donning fuzzy pajamas with mugs of coffee. instead, you’re wearing a pantsuit and have your laptop in hand.
that wouldn’t be tom’s outfit of choice. he’s the last person to judge on style, though.
“good, you’re up,” you chirp to tom, your heels quickly clanking across the floor. you seem to be in a rush. “i’m about to go, but i wanted to say good morning first.”
go where?
“love, what’re you on about?” tom sits up with both eyebrows furrowed. “come back to bed. i’ve kept it nice and warm for you.” he’s smirking now, you skipping around the room to collect your things.
“can’t, tommy. i’ve got work. not all of us make a living on the big screen,” you chastise him in a playful tone.
ok, tom is really confused. you’d told him you planned on taking the day off so you could spend it together.
unless you forgot, that is.
but, you would never. would you?
“no, i- i know,” tom exhales, rubbing the last bit of sleep from his eyes. “i just thought you were calling in sick today, hm?” he’s looking up at you hopefully, to which you scoff at.
you walk over to him and ruffle his disheveled curls. “do i look sick to you? i don’t feel it.” tom leaves your rhetorical question unanswered.
there’s no way you aren’t messing with him. it would make sense, considering all his pranking you’ve had to endure. one too many shaving cream facials could really scorn someone.
there’s also the possibility that you’re still a bit tipsy. just hours ago, you were in his lap and sipping from the bottle.
tom will believe anything before he believes you forgot his birthday.
“darling, do you know what today is?” tom asks expectantly, reaching for your hand. chuckling, you tangle your fingers with his. “tuesday? i’ll pick up tacos on my way home.”
your usual taco tuesday dinner is not what he’s referring to.
“yeah, but no. what’s the date?” he prompts you to fill in the blank. you gasp as a realization hits. “the first!” leaning over, you peck tom’s cheek and grab your laptop bag.
he knew you’d remember. you’ve always woken him up with birthday wishes.
tom cracks a tiny smile, squeezing your hand intertwined in his. “happy…” you pause for a second. “happy june. new month, fresh start. almost summer, too.” his smile dwindles at your words. he’d thought a birthday would follow after happy.
the unimaginable has happened. today’s real significance completely slipped your mind.
should tom tell you? it wouldn’t be the same going about the day without his love. it is embarrassing you need the reminder, however.
then again, this isn’t a regular occurrence. you’ve been preoccupied with your job lately, so you’re slightly detached from the rest of reality. your boss assigned you to some secret project that you haven’t shared the details of. you must be heading off to finish it.
trust him, tom understands the toll hard work can take better than most. he’ll let this go. it’s only fair for him to be patient and supportive, seeing as you are with him.
“right. um, it’s actually… it’s my birth-“ you cut tom off with a kiss before he can correct you.
your lips don’t stay on his for long, but it’s enough time to notice the lack of alcohol on your breath. that means you aren’t hungover or joking around. you simply don’t care about his birthday.
“sorry, i don’t wanna be late. i’ll call you, okay?” you kiss his cheek once more and pat his other. “alright. drive safe,” tom mumbles, lower lip caught between his teeth. he watches you pack up your purse, then make your way out.
“get some rest, tommy! love you!” you sing to him while dashing out of your room. “i’ll try! love you, too,” tom unenthusiastically replies.
when he hears the front door click shut, he tosses the covers aside and stomps to the kitchen to fix his own breakfast.
this birthday might not be so happy after all.
“what’s the status?” you check with harrison, who reads from the itinerary in his hands. “looks like we’re about finished! all that’s left is for harry to test the speakers.” his face holds a proud smile, you nudging his arm appreciatively. “perfect, thank you so much! you guys did such a good job,” you compliment and gaze around at the transformed venue.
the room is buzzing with balloons and streamers, illuminated by colorful disco lights. there’s a mini hole-in-one golf game as well as twister for people to play. sodas, chips, classic party foods are lined up on a long table covered by spider-man tablecloth.
you all came together to throw tom the birthday bash of his dreams. it’s simple, yet an expression of the love everyone in his life has for him. twenty five is a pretty big milestone. your baby is halfway to thirty, and not so small anymore. you knew you had to do something grander than previous years.
tom’s family and closest friends helped you organize his day, and you can’t wait to see his jaw drop when he arrives.
to keep tonight a surprise, you’ve casted yourself in the role of the clueless girlfriend. you go all out for tom’s birthday each year, so he didn’t anticipate your forgetting. you felt absolutely awful to upset him so much this morning. the poor boy was a blushing and squirming mess.
his heartbreak is only temporary, at least.
everything will be worth it later on.
“please, we couldn’t have done it without your… very detailed instructions,” harrison insists, waving around his list for emphasis. you’ve taken your responsibilities here seriously.
“i am the head of this committee. expect nothing less!” you defend. snickering, he folds the paper back up. “fair enough. sam should be over with his cake soon, by the way.” you give a stern look. “chocolate mousse, i presume?”
tom mentioned offhandedly a couple weeks ago how much he enjoys it. you’d been specific about having it at the party, or else. the boys know better than to cross you.
“with chocolate flowers on top. i tried a sample, and it was quite yummy.” harrison licks his fingers for emphasis. laughing at his antics, you pull your phone from your pocket.
“you div. well, i should probably call the birthday boy. i said i would earlier.” you’re grinning as you press on tom’s contact. “brilliant,” harrison agrees, you putting the call on speaker so he can listen.
tom answers after a couple more rings than he normally does. “hello?” he speaks into the phone. “hey, baby. what are you up to?” you wonder, although you know his exact schedule for the day.
you’d arranged to have everyone entertain him until the party. right now, he should be with nikki.
“mum’s taken me on a shopping spree, then we’re doing lunch.” tom purses his lips, debating whether or not he should tell you what the occasion is. his birthday.
“what about you, darling? how’s your project?” he inquires instead. harrison stifles a giggle, you elbowing his side. “oh, it’s… it’s good. just taking longer than i expected. listen, tom…”
tom can picture your frown over the phone, letting out a sigh of his own.
“i might not make it home in time for taco night. maybe nikki will be around for dinner, too?” you suggest, regretfully.
you’ve already bailed on tom’s birthday, and now you’re ditching your date? he’s completely crushed at this point. he has no chance of turning his shitty day around anymore, no matter who he spends it with. he only wants you.
“i’ll ask her. don’t worry about it, y/n/n.” the disappointment is clear in his voice. “good luck with everything. text me on your way home.”
he’s not very convincing. isn’t supposed to be the real actor of you two?
“alright. thank you, baby. i love you.” you put a hand over your chest, exchanging a pitying look with harrison. “i love you more. bye-bye,” tom murmurs before hanging up.
he has no idea your ‘project’ has been a surprise party this whole time.
“i can’t believe it, mum. she’s forgotten all about my birthday,” tom whines to nikki while they browse through marc jacobs. her mission is to find him something to wear for later. “i’ve dropped so many hints, and she hasn’t gotten a single one.”
he glances at the purple and red striped sweater nikki holds up. “ooh, that’s nice.”
lucky for everyone, he’s easily distracted.
nikki smiles keenly, tucking it under her arm. “you said y/n’s been given a work assignment, yes?” she questions. she’s well aware it’s a cover for tom’s party.
“mhm, and i understand how stressful that can be.” tom sorts through more clothes, angrily pushing apart the racks. “but, i don’t think that’s a good enough excuse. i’d never forget her birthday, right?”
“cheer up, sweetheart. i’m sure she’ll come around,” nikki comforts him with a hand on his back. “even if she doesn’t, it wouldn’t be on purpose. y/n cares about you so much. mistakes happen.” she removes the sweater from its hanger. “why don’t you try this on, and i’ll keep looking?”
tom prays the phrase mother knows best holds true in this situation. he nods and takes the sweater.
“thanks, mum. i hope you’re right about that.”
after nikki finishes hauling tom around the shops and for a bite to eat, she drives him back home. he’s currently splayed across the couch with tessa. she’s perched on his stomach, face nuzzled into his chest while he scrolls through his phone. it’s nice that one of his girls is here to celebrate.
you’ve gone off the grid, save for some bland texts that tom merely responds to with heart emojis. he doesn’t have the energy for anything more. he’s still in shock that you haven’t uttered a word about his birthday. this isn’t like you, not in the slightest.
tom perks up when he logs into instagram, liking all the birthday posts from his friends and fans. he watches some edits that must have taken ages to create, commenting thank you’s, making people’s days. someone deserves to enjoy theirs.
when he comes across zendaya’s birthday post, tom is finally pulled out of his mopey mood.
it’s a photo she took of him during the filming of no way home. tom had snuck off set in his newest spidey suit to get starbucks because he was in dire need of his iced mocha. his mask is off, a finger to his lips and shushing the camera, coffee clutched in his free hand. zendaya swore she wouldn’t tattle on him, but here they are.
“what do you say, tess? should we give Z a ring?” tom asks his pooch, flooded with nostalgia and craving more company. not that tessa isn’t. some human contact would be refreshing, however.
“i’ll take your silence as a yes,” tom concludes. he strokes tessa’s back and dials zendaya’s number. she picks up suspiciously fast, his eyes widening.
“birthday boy, hey! i was just gonna call you,” zendaya muses, grinning to herself. she’s under your orders to do so. “great minds think alike, don’t they? how are you holding up?” tom smiles upon hearing his friend’s voice.
“you first,” she challenges. “it’s all about you today… and every other, but still.” her teasing earns tom’s first genuine laugh in too long.
“oh? doesn’t feel that way,” tom says under his breath, hugging tessa closer. she whimpers, to which he kisses the top of her head in response. “what do you mean?” zendaya asks sympathetically.
“y/n, um…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “god, this is humiliating. she forgot my birthday.”
his confession doesn’t shake her because you told her about your scheme. she does have to pretend to be shaken.
“for real?” zendaya gawks, fueling tom’s sadness further. “shit, man. that’s so fucked up… i’m sorry.” she’s suppressing a smile. tom continues to scratch tessa’s back to calm himself.
“i’m not sure what’s happened. she always makes a huge deal of it,” he elaborates, shaking his head. “i don’t know, maybe i’m being dramatic. she’s been busy. i just feel a bit… lonely.”
this charade of yours is seriously getting to tom. you’ve got major damage control to do.
“you might feel lonely, but you’re not alone. you have me,” zendaya offers her take. tom tuts, shifting on his cushion. “very wise of you. thanks, Z.” she snorts at him. “i’d say we should hang, if you weren’t on the other side of the world,” he lightheartedly complains.
unbeknownst to tom, zendaya happens to be in london for the week. she’s shooting a commercial for her latest ambassadorship. she’ll be at his party later on, and she’s meeting up with you now. he’ll figure that out soon enough.
zendaya clicks her tongue. “sucks, huh? this is one of those times i wish i could teleport.” tom is about to respond, then he hears a voice in the background. “daya!” you squeal, running up to her with open arms. that sounds an awful lot like…
“y/n?” tom almost gasps, jumping off the couch. tessa growls at his abruptness. “am i completely off my rocker, or is she… is that her?”
panicking, zendaya signals for you to be quiet. “uh, i- i…” she slaps her hand over her forehead. “i gotta go! happy birthday, holland!” before tom can interrogate, she’s already ended the call.
his clinginess to you probably freaked her out. it would be ridiculous to think you two are together when zendaya lives in california and you’re here in england. tom’s mind is playing tricks on him, making him hear what he wants to. he misses you an insane amount.
back to wallowing he goes.
it’s nearly two hours past the time you get off, and you still aren’t home. tom is fed up with the entire day.
he went for drinks with tuwaine and on a walk with paddy, so those were highlights. he’d have liked to do some rounds of golf with his dad, too. he said he couldn’t because he was stowed away to write his next book. that was a lie, but tom was unsuspecting.
even the good parts of his birthday weren’t that great.
tom’s faith is reignited when a facetime call from you shows up on his screen. he immediately swipes to answer, not caring how desperate he seems. he is desperate. he’d settle for seeing you at all and under any circumstances.
“tom!” you smile into the camera. you’re outside, the sun beginning to set behind you. “haven’t heard from you in hours, y/n/n. where are you?” tom props his phone up in front of him. “um, work,” you hastily retort. “if you’re up to it, i could really use a favor…”
you’re a madwoman, he swears it. you’ve gone bonkers.
but, what else has he got to lose?
“yeah,” tom grumbles out, avoiding eye contact in the call. “what is it?” you’re oblivious to his inner conflict. “my uber cancelled on me, and it’s getting pretty late. i was wondering if you could come get me instead?” you bat your lashes, trying to grab his attention. “i’d rather be with you, anyway.”
unlike you at the moment, tom is a considerate partner who would do whatever necessary to accommodate you. he can’t say no.
“sure, darling. i’m on my way.” tom stands to search for his keys. “wait!” you stop him. he’s not in the mood to, but he indulges. “hm?” “that sweater… it’s cute on you,” you compliment, grinning innocently at your somber boyfriend.
“thanks. mum picked it out for me,” tom rasps. he paired it with black skinny jeans and some old boots.
“what are you so dressed up for, anyway?” you drawl, knowing damn well his answer. my birthday. my fucking birthday, is what tom wants to say. “myself, i guess,” he shortly replies instead. you’re impressed he didn’t break yet.
“you deserve it. i’ll text you the address?”
“yup. be there soon, bye.”
tom barely has it held together as he drives to your office. he’s either on the verge of tears or a full blown tantrum, or maybe both.
the ride there isn’t too long, which he’s grateful for. he needs this day to be over with. he’ll get you, have a nice dinner, and salvage his birthday however possible. hey, there’s always next year.
upon his arrival, tom begins to wonder if you gave him the wrong address by accident. it’s some place called swingers. he can vaguely recall hearing of it, but it’s indoor mini golf. you surely don’t work at a mini golf course. he would’ve visited a lot sooner. unless, this is another secret you’ve kept.
there’s only one way to find out.
you’re not outside when he gets out of the car. he figures you must have went back inside to wait. with his sweater sleeves scrunched in his hands, tom enters the building.
it’s quiet, besides the radio playing lowly in the lobby. he approaches a woman at the front desk to ask where you might be.
“hello, is y/n y/l/n in? i’m meant to meet her here,” tom politely explains, mustering up a smile. the lady beams at him and gets up from her chair. “i’ll take you to her. right this way.”
she leads him through the place, tom following along curiously. he looks around while he walks and admires the paraphernalia littering the walls. they end up in a dark room that appears to be empty. although he hasn’t a clue what’s going on anymore, that can’t be right.
“are you sure this is where she-“ tom turns to the front desk woman, but she’s gone. weird. he’s starting to get a bit spooked.
tom’s instincts tell him to bolt, then all the lights suddenly flick on. he realizes he’s in a bar. music blasts from speakers, decorations hang from the ceiling, and people blow party horns in unison. not just any people, his people.
“surprise!” everybody shouts, tom clasping both hands over his mouth. he’s most definitely surprised.
the room bursts into laughter at his reaction, waving around their noisemakers and going up to greet him. this is just what you’d hoped for. your disappearing act paid off, even though it was excruciating for all who were involved.
you run right up to tom, his family circling around the two of you. his abundance of friends settle at the bar or by the snack table. tom removes his hands from his face to reveal the widest smile you’ve ever seen.
“oh my god, y/n/n! you… did you do all of this?” he chuckles in disbelief. you eagerly nod and cup his cheeks. “of course! you didn’t think i’d forget about international tom day, did you?” tom is so moved that he doesn’t say anything, only stares into your eyes. “best day of the year,” you declare with a toothy grin.
lifting you up by your waist, tom collides his lips with yours, not allowing another second to be wasted. you giggle as you kiss back, letting your legs hook around his middle. everyone in the room hollers at the two of you.
tom is still smiling against your lips. he rests his forehead on yours when he pulls back, just to come in and steal more kisses. you move a hand down to his broad shoulder to steady yourself while his lips attack yours, softly but so passionately.
“happy birthday, baby!” you manage to get out between tom’s never ending pecks. a breathy laugh leaves him, kissing both your cheeks. “thank you so much, angel. so, so much,” tom hums, your nose scrunching up. he kisses that, too. “i’m so fucking in love with you. you have no idea.” his eyes are glossy as you meet them.
“mm, i know. i love you the most, tom.” your lips brush his again gently, tom sniffling and holding you tight. you pout at him and dab at a stray tear with your thumb. “aw, no. don’t cry,” you coo, all the guests cheering you two on. “look at me… what’s the matter?”
you’re stroking across his jawline, tom putting you down. his arms stay around your waist.
“i just… you got me really good. thought you actually forgot about my birthday,” tom admits, leaning into your touch. “i was so fucking sad all day, but this makes up for everything.”
you draw him into a hug, his body flush against yours and face hidden in your neck. “no, never. you mean the whole world to me, tom. i’ve been planning your twenty fifth for months!” you’re flashing him a cheeky smile.
“so, your secret project?” tom cocks his head to the side, you jabbing at his chest. “you’re looking at it.” “my love,” he groans, throwing his head back. “how on earth did you do all of this?” gesturing behind you, you take a step back. “i didn’t work alone.”
harrison and zendaya waltz over together, tom losing his shit for the nth time today.
“you’re joking!” he practically tackles zendaya in a hug, who makes crazy eyes at you over tom’s shoulder. “careful with the hair! valentino needs me in the morning,” she laughs out and squeezes him back. tom eases up the tiniest bit.
“you’ve been here the whole time, then?” he lets her go so she can breathe, grinning so much his cheeks hurt.
“for a shoot, yeah. thought i’d check this place out while i’m here. i’m a real golf fanatic,” zendaya sarcastically replies and claps tom on the back. tom reaches over and links his pinky with yours, tugging you back to him. “i knew that was you on the phone! you two were in on this together.”
you curtesy, harrison clearing his throat from next to you.
“ahem! what about me, dickhead?” he puts his hands on his hips. “what about you?” tom repeats to get a rise out of him. it succeeds, harrison punching his arm just hard enough to sting. he does it with a chuckle, though.
“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. thanks, bruv.” tom rolls his eyes. the two of them hug it out, you and zendaya watching on.
he slings his arm around harrison’s shoulder. “damn, you lot had me fooled. how’d you pull it off?” you wink at zendaya, looping your own arms around tom’s waist. “we learned from the master himself.” “and, me,” she teases. “oh, get in here. all of you,” tom insists, the four of you now in a bone-crushing group hug.
it’s cut short by his parents and a bunch of others wanting to give their best to the birthday boy.
nikki marches up to tom with smudged mascara because yours and toms reunion made her emotional. dom pokes fun of at his wife, tom consoling her while getting another good laugh in. it must be a holland thing.
tom makes his rounds after that with you by his side, your arm in his as he thanks everyone for coming. you’ve spent enough time apart for one day, or forever. he catches up with his spider-man stunt team, then does a shot with harry and checks out sam’s cake.
you have to physically restrain him from devouring it on the spot, much to sam’s amusement.
at last, everybody heads off to the mini golf courses throughout the building. tom understands why his dad didn’t go for a game earlier. this might not be the real thing, but it’s admittedly more entertaining. plus, he has a better chance of beating the others out.
you, tom, zendaya, and harrison play your game together. nikki, dom, sam, and paddy are right behind you. harry and tuwaine split into other groups, the venue filled only with everyone tom loves. he’s so blown away you did this for him.
“foul! that’s a foul!” harrison calls to you while you retrieve your golf ball from the water. “what is?” you yell back. tom and zendaya stand back and observe.
“you can’t move the ball! you have to hit it where it lands!” harrison sticks his golf club in the fake grass, smirking in satisfaction. huffing, you place the ball back at its starting point on the course. “dude, that’s impossible. i’m just gonna go from here.”
he narrows his eyes at you. “you did that on purpose.” tom swats at his friend’s shoulder, you biting back a grin. “are you accusing my girl of cheating?” “a man in women’s business,” zendaya remarks and earns giggling from you. harrison mocks her words, ultimately conceding.
“fine. if y/n’s going to play dirty, so will i.”
the rest of your game goes smoothly until your mini golf skills are once again questioned, this time by tom. he informs you that you’ve been holding the club all wrong. you haven’t really. he just wants an excuse to touch you, which you’re not opposed to.
tom’s hands are over yours, his chin on your shoulder as he teaches you how to swing. he’ll throw out little comments like atta girl and there you go, sweetheart from time to time. zendaya finds this hilarious, so she snaps a video and posts it to her story. you’ll all no doubt be trending soon.
the party eventually moves back into the bar, where sam has his chocolate mousse cake ready to be eaten. two big candles that say twenty five in numbers are now stuck in and flaming. tom stands before his beloved cake, you hugging him from behind while everyone serenades him with happy birthday.
you all applaud him at the end, tom licking his lips and rubbing his hands together. “are you one?” harry starts chanting. the others follow in song, gearing up to twenty five. tom will blow out his candles when they get there.
pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, you whisper in his ear. “make a wish, tommy.” he looks at you over his shoulder, threading his fingers through yours.
“it’s already come true.”
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