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#tom holland fic
marvelouspeterparker · 8 months ago
professor’s sweetheart
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pairing: professor!tom holland x student!reader
summary: professor holland teaches british literature at your university. you hadn’t expected much when you signed up for the course, but the experience is everything and more than you could have hoped for. 
word count: 15.1k
warnings: there is smut in here but it’s not the main focus (wild, i know)
notes: uh yeah i’d say just don’t fuck your professor? this is purely fictional. be safe, you know how it is <3
also she wrote a professor!harry styles fic, but if i hadn’t read that (over and over) i probably wouldn’t have been inspired to write this. so check out @songbirdstyles​ !
i listened to this playlist while writing it if ur interested :)
give me feedback please!!
“What class do you have next?” Your friend, and roommate Liz asked. You were both walking out of the cafeteria. It was 1:15, you had just finished lunch and you had fifteen minutes until your next class. You pushed the doors open together and braced yourselves as the cool late September breeze hit you, blowing your jackets open. You put both sides of the jacket together in front of you and crossed your arms to block the cold out. 
“Um,” you thought back for a moment, the cold temporarily knocking your senses right out of you. “British Literature.”
If you were being honest, you had taken this course because it fulfilled one of your requirements, but in the end it felt like one of the most rewarding parts of your college experience so far. The material was interesting, and instead of being bored out of your mind throughout the whole hour and a half of class––it was actually entertaining. You had your professor to thank for that.
“Oooh,” Liz twisted her lips to the side to suppress a knowing smile, but the look in her eyes gave it away. “With Professor Holland?” She asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. 
You rolled your eyes and bit your tongue to hide your smile. “Yes,” you shoved her playfully to the side making her step in a pile of leaves, the crunch under boots loud as ever as it carried through the crisp air. “Shut up.”
You and Liz had been roommates since your first year at university and had now spent four, coming up on five semesters rooming together. Luckily, you really hit it off, and easily fell into a routine together, forming a bond as you ate lunch and dinner together, studied in the library, had dance parties in your dorm, and more. You knew each other inside and out, often having random late night conversations while you procrastinated your work or couldn’t sleep, about literally anything and everything. Bottom line is, you trusted each other, which is why she knew about your sort-of-crush on Professor Holland. 
To be fair everyone had a thing for him, he was just that kind of guy. He was sweet and compassionate and funny. Professor Holland was one of those genuine professors who sincerely cared about their students and their well-beings. He was incredibly understanding. He’d schedule dozens of meetings with his students all in one day just because he wanted to help and make sure they were all alright. He liked to check in every now and then, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
From what you could tell he also seemed like a people person. No matter who he was with, whether it was a student, his teaching assistant Jacob, or his fellow professors––he was always attentive, cracking jokes, enjoying the conversation. Everyone seemed to love him. But you could also tell that a part of him was just a tad bit cocky, but in a joking and love-able way. 
All this goes to show that you spent way too much time thinking about him, and observing him, which could either be seen as really endearing or really creepy. 
“Look I’m just saying,” Liz shrugged, “Enjoy the class.” She nudged you, “I know I would.”
Realizing you were approaching the writing and arts center, and Liz’s next class was in the building across the street, you sent her off. “Yeah yeah, okay. Bye.” You tightened your arms around you and scurried off, skipping a crack in the sidewalk and walking up the steps to the building. You opened the door and were immediately welcomed by a rush of warm air and let out a sigh, rubbing your hands together as you made your way to the lecture hall. 
You pulled your phone out and checked the time, 1:22. You still had 8 minutes to spare. You were still walking and only glanced up from your phone right as you were about to walk into the door and were stopped suddenly when you crashed into a hard chest. You immediately felt two warm hands grasp your arms to steady you and were suddenly enveloped by the smell of tea and mint. 
“Woah! I’m sorry, love, are you alright?”
You froze as you looked up, feeling very much like a deer in headlights as you realized you quite literally crashed into your professor. “Oh––um,” you swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air was escaping you. You cleared your throat trying to save yourself from anymore embarrassment. “I’m fine––I’m sorry, that was my fault. I wasn’t looking––” You paused when you noticed the small smile on his face, his warm eyes making you forget what you were going to say.
“It’s alright, Y/N. It was partially my fault as well, I was too focused on––” he seemed to snap out of some trance, straightening himself up as his hands dropped back down to his sides and into his pockets. “Uh, well that’s not important.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket––he was wearing those blue slacks that you thought made his thighs look great, respectfully, of course. He checked the time on his watch and you had to stop yourself from ogling the veins in his arms as he did so. 
He looked up at you, brows furrowed playfully and you actually had to remind yourself to breathe. “You’re almost ten minutes early. You that eager to see me?” He ended his question with a teasing smirk and your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed to string together a response.
“I––um, I just really like this class and you––you’re my favorite professor.” You blurted out, your cheeks heating up as you realized what you just admitted. You had to force your eyes to go back to their normal size after they practically bulged at the realization of what you said. “And I mean, I just happened to get here early so...I thought I might as well get settled in.”
Your professor cleared his throat, trying to hide his smile as he glanced down at his shoes for a moment then back up at you. “Well then.” He extended his arm, pointing towards the open door of the hall and stepped aside. “Please, after you.” 
You gave him a small smile in return along with a quiet thank you and stepped through the door. But before you could walk over to your seat, you felt him lean over behind you to talk lowly in your ear. He was standing a respectably close distance, but his presence was so overwhelming it was as though you felt him everywhere. His breath caressed the smooth skin of your cheek as he spoke. 
“I’m technically not allowed to have favorites, but I do appreciate that you enjoy having me as your professor, darling.” It shouldn’t have had such an effect on you, really, it shouldn’t have. But something about him referring to himself by his title really did something to you. You took a sharp inhale as you stood up straight, your whole body on high alert as you turned your head towards him, your eyes refusing to look at his and instead finding solace in the fabric of his navy blue button up––which he’d rolled up to his forearms. 
“And if it means anything, I rather do enjoy having you in my class as well.” You snuck a peek at him, lifting your gaze slowly and only caught a glimpse of his soft lips as he smiled before walking over to his desk. 
You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you walked up the steps to your usual spot in the middle row, near the aisle. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, and the man hadn’t even touched you––well not in the way you wanted him to, anyway. But enough of that. 
You checked your phone again, trying to calm down your heartbeat as you took in a deep breath, 1:28. People started shuffling into the class, the overlapping sounds of chatter and laughter rupturing the energy the room had when it was just the two of you. At 1:32 Professor Holland started the class, getting everyone’s attention smoother than anyone should be able to. You could almost feel everyone’s eyes focusing on him, some weren’t even listening to him, they were just so entranced by how good he looked and the way he sounded––his accent was just so endearing, you had to admit it. 
The hour and a half went by rather quickly but today you were more aware of yourself, of Professor Holland––even more than usual. It seemed as though his eyes would travel to your direction more often, after he made jokes as if to see your reaction, or while he paused in his speeches. 
At the end of the class, despite there being dozens of other students moving around you, you felt as though your professor was watching you as you made your way out of the room. But it had to be your imagination, there was just no way. 
When you got back to your dorm, Liz still wasn’t back yet so you decided to take a shower and spend some time relaxing. You had already done your work for the next day and your other work for the rest of the week––well, you decided you’d do it later. 
You changed into sweats after your shower and hopped on your bed, deciding to switch between your apps for an hour or so––honestly you’d lost track of time. Liz strolled in soon after, closing the door with a loud groan, throwing her bag on the floor.
You smiled, looking up at her from your lying position on the bed. “Hello to you too.”
She grumbled in response, finally looking at you. When she noticed you were already wearing your pajamas she pointed to you, her brows raised. “Good idea!” She immediately went to her drawers and picked out a random pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, changing with lightning speed for someone who was sluggishly groaning not even a minute before. 
She grabbed her phone and sat on her bed opposite yours, cross-legged, facing you. She looked at your face for a few seconds before squinting her eyes at you. “You have something to say. Spill.”
You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face. 
She looked at you pointedly, “Well go on.” 
So you told her about your encounter with the infamous brit today, how you bumped into him, what he said to you, the glances he sent your way. When you finished recounting everything you took a deep breath, “But––this could all just be in my head you know, just me overreacting.”
She stared at you with a dead expression. “Are you fucking dumb?”
She ignored you, rolling her eyes while she tried not to laugh. “Dude he totally wants to fuck you.” She said nonchalantly.
Your eyes bulged, “W–What do you––What?” 
“Oh please, it’s so obvious.”
You opened your mouth but when nothing came out, you paused and looked down at the carpet. After a few moments you looked back up at her to find her with a knowing smirk on her face. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am, when am I not?” When you were about to speak, she interrupted you. “Don’t answer that. But look, it seems like he’s into you. I think you should hit that.”
“But we––that’s not allowed!” You paused, “Is it?”
She laughed, “A ha! So you do want to!”
“Oh shut up, you already knew that. Everyone wants to, it’s not a big deal.”
She made a face, “Yes, but you’re the only one who actually has a chance at getting it.” 
You looked at her, a skeptical look on your face. “Even if that was true––he’s still my professor…”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah but it’s not like it’s in the handbook or anything. Plus, you’re both legal adults, so. There you have it. You’re free to bone.”
“You did not just say that.”
“But I did.” She smiled, lying down in her bed. “You really could, though. Just don’t tell anybody.” When you didn’t say anything else, she spoke up. “Okay I’m gonna take a nap now. You have a lot to think about.” 
You ignored the last part and went back to your phone, “Yeah you do that.” 
Throughout the rest of the afternoon and night you couldn’t stop thinking about this whole situation. This was bad...Or was it? It seemed all too complicated, that was for sure. You weren’t even sure he looked at you or thought of you that way. 
You fell asleep playing all the pros and cons of hypothetically getting with him, your mind an endless loop of your professor, his voice, how he sounded when he practically whispered that he liked being your teacher. This was all too much.
All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. The tongue, teeth and lips following and leaving marks everywhere the hands traced. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. Your eyes locked in on the ones staring up at you with pure hunger and awe as you ground yourself down on his cock.
“That’s it darling, just like that. You’re doing so good for me.” His lips curved into that oh so familiar smirk. “I taught you well, didn’t I?”
You woke up sweaty, your shirt sticking to your torso, a wet patch on your panties, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of your dorm room. A sex dream. Of course you had a fucking sex dream about him. Fuck. You were just lucky that your next class with him was on Thursday so you didn’t have to see him today. Because that would not help you at all. 
You checked the time on your phone, squinting at the brightness before turning it all the way down, 10am. You got out of bed with a groan and took your toiletries bag and your towel to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower this morning, instead of later on at night. Lord knows you certainly needed one. A cold one too.
You were frustrated, frustrated with yourself for feeling this way about your professor––sure, he was only a few years older than you, but it was the principle of the matter––frustrated that you were overthinking this entire thing, and most importantly you were annoyed because you were extremely horny. 
When you got into the bathroom, you locked the door and set your stuff down. You put your hands on both sides of the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror. Who are we and what happened? You sighed and grabbed your toothbrush, brushing your teeth quickly and aggressively, since everything seemed to be a hassle this morning. You’d hoped that once you hopped in the shower, you’d calm down. 
When you made your way inside, you sighed contently at the feeling of the warm water pattering against your skin, freshening you up immediately. Your nipples were still hard, between your legs still wet. So you brought a hand down between your thighs, the other to your breast as you stood under the water––almost as though the water was washing away the sinful act and thoughts right at the source. You laughed at the thought, nope, nothing can wash this away. 
You squeezed your breast and tugged at your nipple, rubbing your sensitive bud just the way you liked. You were still sensitive from...your dream, so it didn’t take long for everything to build up. You couldn’t help yourself, your mind brought back the remnants of last night that you remembered, the way his hands gripped you when he steadied you, the way his arms looked, and you came with a whimper that was louder than you would have liked. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and resting your head back on the tiles as the water continued to fall on you. 
When you came back to your dorm, Liz was on her way out but she stopped, raising her brows at you, “So have you come to a conclusion?”
You walked past her into the dorm, “Go to class, Liz.” You heard her cackle down the hallway as you closed the door. 
You got dressed casually, not rushing since there was nowhere for you to go and decided to go to the local cafe near the school. You needed to clear your head and get some work done, and you definitely would not get any of it done in your dorm. Not today, anyway. 
You checked the weather and seeing that it was a little warmer today, you put a sweatshirt on, grabbed your bag along with your phone and your laptop and you were on your way. The breeze felt refreshing this morning as you stepped out of your dorm. Your walk to the cafe was only ten or so minutes but it felt good. 
Stepping into the little shop, you were immediately hit by the aroma of coffee and sweets, surrounded by the sound of light chatter and utensils clattering on the wooden tables. The warm light above you brought a sense of comfort as you made your way over to the counter. The line was rather short so you managed to order your usual drink and snack quickly. As you were waiting for the cashier to hand you your things, your eyes scanned the shop––the ambience was rather nice and the talking almost felt like background noises. You wouldn’t mind staying here to work.
As you gathered your things, you turned around in search of a free table––which would be the deciding factor in whether or not you would stay, you did not want to awkwardly share the small table space with some stranger. You took a few steps into the seating area and almost choked on your breath when you made eye contact with the last person you wanted to see today. 
He smiled charmingly at you, teeth and all and quickly made his way over before you even had a chance to think of escaping. “Y/N!” He stood in front of you, his eyes bright. He was actually happy to see you? He was always happy to see everyone, it didn’t mean anything. 
His voice snapped you out of your annoyingly loud thoughts.  “Fancy seeing you here.” He nudged you playfully, “How are you?” He was wearing a very tight white button up that was unbuttoned until the third, showing a generous amount of his chest, a grey suit and pants, along with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It took you a few more seconds than it should have to process that there were actual words coming out of his mouth.  
You forced a smile onto your face but the more you looked into his eyes, the more genuine it became, almost impossible to wipe off. “I’m good. Was just grabbing breakfast before I start my work. You?”
He raised his cup, “Same as you. Have a bit of time before my next class.” 
You noticed that you couldn’t tell what exactly was in the cup and your curiosity got the better of you. You pointed to the cup clasped in his fingers, “Is that coffee?”
He furrowed his brows in mock offense, “I only drink tea, darling.” He leaned his upper body forward to whisper to you, his cheek almost touching yours, “I’d think you would know that about your favorite professor.” He tutted playfully as he stood up straight again, watching you, a look that you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his eyes as he watched you over his cup, taking a teasingly long sip. 
You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open, not a clue what to respond. When he pulled the cup away from his mouth he looked down at you, his gaze drifting down and you’d never felt more exposed, despite the fact that you were wearing two layers of clothing. “I like your sweatshirt.” He smiled, glancing down at it before looking directly into your eyes, his head lowered slightly.
Your eyes widened in surprise and your head snapped down to see your spiderman sweatshirt looking back at you boldly. Oh––Oh. You lifted your head back up to find him still smiling at you softly, he didn’t seem to be teasing you at all. “Um thanks.” You could feel your cheeks heating up, despite the cool air that swept your legs as someone opened the door to the cafe. “Are you uh–– a marvel fan?” 
He pursed his lips playfully, “Yeah,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, “Yeah you could say that.” He licked his lips and took another sip of his drink.
Your eyes, with a mind of their own, trailed down the column of his throat, following the vein on the side of his neck, the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the warm liquid. The action almost seemed provocative, in both meanings of the term. 
Suddenly you felt very hot and you knew that you had to get out of there before you made a fool of yourself in front of everyone, but most importantly him. You perked up, “I uh––I have to go professor, but it was nice talking with you. See you tomorrow!” With that you quite literally ran off, wincing as you turned around, having noticed the way his lips parted as if to speak, a furrow between his brows appearing out of confusion and concern. You really had to get control of yourself. 
You practically berated yourself as you speed walked away. God, that was so stupid. And not to mention, incredibly rude! He’d probably be upset with you now, or maybe even mad. It’s just––unbelievable what he did to you, without even actually doing anything. It took you the entire walk there to realize that you unconsciously made your way back to your dorm––so much for the library. But you’d had enough social interaction for today, so you decided you’d stay there.
You got in your bed and buried yourself under the covers, deciding you needed the comfort of being hidden in your mattress after the embarrassment you’d just experienced. You lied there just staring at the plain, white ceiling for way too long until you let out a loud huff and sat up, before grabbing your computer to start your work. 
Deciding to check your college email before you started, since they were incessant and it was easy to miss something, you scanned down the list of messages in your inbox. Your eyes skimmed through the boxes on the left of your screen, notifications that your professors left feedback on your assignments, the weekly newsletter, club events, a message from Holland, Tom––
You shut your computer immediately, eyes bulging as you held your breath. You swallowed thickly, as you stared into nothing in front of you, your eyes barely taking in anything, your mind a big ball of fuzz. 
After taking a few deep breaths, and telling your overdramatic brain to calm down, you opened the laptop again. Biting your lip, you hovered your mouse over the message, reading over the small bits of information you could see in the preview.
Holland, Tom
Just checking in
Hi Y/N, I just wanted to make  …
You could feel your heart beating through your chest. Oh God––Wanted to make sure what?? The sensible part of your brain said to just open it to figure it out for yourself. But the irrational, idiotic part of your brain was yelling at you to not open it under any circumstance. What if he wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea? Did he know how you felt about him? Were you that obvious? Maybe he thinks you’re clinically insane and wants to make sure you’re getting the attention you need? You did run off like a crazy person, after all. 
You shut your eyes tight and groaned loudly into your hands. Liz walked in and whistled lowly, taking in everything in front of her. You looked up, confused and looked at the time, realizing it had already been two hours since you first left the dorm, meaning she was done with her classes for the day.
“What’s up?” She took a seat at her desk, propping her legs on the table as she leaned back.
You waved her off, deciding it would be best to let this blow over and ignore it for now. You’d go back when you were in the right state of mind. 
She started telling you about her day and annoyingly, your brain decided today would be the day that it would not shut off. Your brows were furrowed as you tried your best to focus on what your friend was saying, but she wasn’t even looking in your direction, staring up into the air above her as she spoke animated, hands waving around, so she didn’t even notice you struggling to pay attention. 
Your eyes kept flitting back to the screen of your computer, your fingers swiping across the trackpad to turn it back on when the screen’s brightness lowered every now and then. 
Liz looked back at you and stopped her spiel. “Alright what’s up with you?” 
You sighed deeply and looked up at her. “Sorry, sorry. I just––I saw Professor Holland today––”
“Already?” She interrupted you, a goofy smile on her face. “Damn, you work fast.”
You threw the nearest pillow at her, “Shut up! I didn’t fuck him.”
“You should’ve.” She pointed out, holding the pillow to her chest. 
You glared at her until she raised her hands in surrender, then continued, your eyes bouncing from object to object in the room as you babbled. 
“I went to the cafe and I saw him and he came over to me and we started talking––and he whispered in my ear and he was joking around with me and he sipped his tea and he was super close to me and super hot, and I couldn’t handle it so I basically ran off without giving him a chance to say bye.” You took a deep breath, “And then he sent me an email after I saw him and I still haven’t opened it because I’m scared and I don’t know what he said…” You took another breath and looked at your friend, blinking as she just stared at you.
After a moment, she spoke up. “Dude just open the email.”
Your eyes widened almost in offense. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”
“Yeah you practically fucked in the cafe then you got scared and ran away.” She spoke nonchalantly and you could tell she was fighting off a smile. “Look, eventually you have to open the email anyway, you can’t just ignore it. So just do it and rip the bandaid off.” You were about to speak up when she interrupted you, “I promise it won’t be half as bad as you think. We both know your mind is absolutely filled with the craziest ideas.” 
You huffed and fell back down on the bed, not bothering to argue since you both knew she was right. 
“Shit, I’m starving.” She looked at the time, “Yeah it’s about time for me to eat food.” She stood up, “Come on, let’s go.”
“Can you please get something for me?” She knew you well enough that you didn’t have to tell her what to get. You gave her your best smile and shrugged your shoulders.
“Are you serious.” She looked at you, deadpan, standing like the little emoji of the woman standing in place with her arms at her sides. 
You had to suppress your smile, “What if I see him?” You asked incredulously, lying further in the covers. “I’d rather stay in here and hide, for now.”
“You have class with him tomorrow––”
“That’s why I said for now.”
She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her things, “You’re ridiculous.”
“Love you!”
“Yeah yeah,” she waved her hand and walked out the door. 
A few moments passed after Liz left and you sat up yet again, putting your computer on your lap as you swiped the trackpad, making the screen light up again. You checked the time, it had been almost an hour since he sent the email, you really shouldn’t make him wait any longer. Not that he’s waiting at all, he probably didn’t even notice that you hadn’t responded.
You inhaled and exhaled slowly, swallowed your nerves and clicked on the email. 
Holland, Tom
Just checking in
Hi Y/N, 
I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. You seemed kind of stressed when you left earlier and I’m hoping it wasn’t because of anything I did. Can we check in tomorrow in my office? Hope everything is going well. 
Warmest Regards,
Professor Holland
He wanted to meet tomorrow after class. In his office. Alone. 
Oh, fuck. You could hear Liz in your head going Yes, fuck. But you quickly shoved her aside. 
You read over the email about five times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting anything, because that would be even more embarrassing. You clicked the reply button and slowly wrote out your response.
Hi Professor Holland,
Everything is fine, but thank you for asking, I appreciate the concern. I’m free tomorrow after class if you’re available then.
Thank you!
You hit send and not even two minutes later, you received a response. 
Hi Y/N,
Perfect! I’ll see you then :)
Professor Holland
How on earth were you supposed to focus on your work now? More importantly, how were you going to focus in class tomorrow?
The next day, the butterflies in your stomach would not calm down. When you stepped into the class, he was talking to another student and you tried to sneak past to your seat unnoticed. You thought you’d succeeded but once you sat down and looked up, you made direct eye contact with him and you swear you stopped breathing. You barely even recognized the sound of everyone moving around you, getting ready for class to start. 
He parted his lips and reluctantly turned back to the student still talking to him, snapping out of his daze, but not after glancing back at you. You swallowed and sank down in your seat. This was going to be a long class. 
At 1:35, class started. Professor Holland stood up and clasped his hands, making his way to the middle of the floor in front of everybody, his voice reverberating through the room. 
“Good afternoon everybody. Hope you’re all doing well.” His eyes found yours and you bit your lip nervously. You could see him swallow as he watched you, before moving his gaze elsewhere. Was that because of you? Surely, it had to be a coincidence. Maybe you made him uncomfortable. Oh great––
He went on, seemingly unfazed, eyes darting back to you subtly before continuing. The discussion soon turned to the book you’d just been assigned to read. The book was rather lengthy but there were always so many things to talk about within only a few pages––which you loved, so it was taking you all a while to go through everything together in class. 
The conversations often took up a lot of the class time since Professor Holland simply loved talking and he always found everyone’s interpretations interesting and worth exploring––eager to hear our classmates perspectives. He also often said that he was not good at using technology, so he preferred to just talk and show rather than use his computer. Honestly, you found it endearing.
The conversations were always interesting to listen to, people never failed to give you insight on things you hadn’t even thought of before, but sometimes––some people were just a little stupid.
Someone brought up a slightly sexist point that made absolutely no sense but since you weren’t the one to call someone out in front of a room full of people, you stuck to your facial reactions instead of audibly responding. You turned back to the front of the class to see Professor Holland’s opinion to find that he was watching you, trying and failing to suppress his smile. 
He put both hands in his pockets which you found ironic considering they would jump out any time soon––he loved to talk with his hands. His eyes got serious, the smile on his face a little less friendly as he addressed the sophomore who made the comment. “I don’t know if you’re aware of how ludicrously sexist that comment you just made was, but now you know.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Remember to think before you speak. This isn’t to necessarily call anyone out. It’s a warning. Senseless remarks will not only affect my view of you, but your grades as well.” 
He went on and tried to shape the boy’s comment into something appropriate to discuss and you honestly couldn’t focus on anything else he said, you were just looking at him in awe and in shock. Sure, this was the bare minimum, but since it was so rare to see, it was very noticeable and even impressive when you noticed it.
God, you adored this man.
Near the end of class, he announced the next assignment, a paper you’d have to write about a comparison you made between any point in the story, a character, a theme, a hidden meaning, etc. and something in our modern reality, a social norm, a popular belief, etc. Your essays were always very open ended in this class, giving you room to write about almost anything you wanted to. Your professor knew that the assignments would be more enjoyable if there was some choice involved. He truly was good at his job. 
“Look, reading’s hard sometimes, I get it. I’m dyslexic, so trust me, I understand. But I never let that stop me.” He paused to look around the room and it was so silent you could hear each other’s inhales and exhales. The power he had over a room full of around one hundred people was insane, and in a weird way, also turned you on. “I know the book is massive. Listen to the audio books if you have to, I don’t mind. But get the work done either way. It’s not for me, it’s for you. I want you to get the best grade you can in this class.”
“Bring me interesting material. I don’t want to fall asleep reading your work.” He joked and smiled proudly when laughter filled the room. “The essay is due in two weeks. Good luck.”
There were a few thank you’s and goodbyes scattered around the room as he sent everyone off, people scurrying from all sides to the exits. 
You took your time gathering all your things and took a deep breath when the last few people made their way out, silence soon surrounding the both of you. You put your bag over your shoulder and walked down the carpeted steps, suddenly finding the dark grey pattern to be the most interesting things you’ve ever seen––and also watching your steps so that you don’t fall down them in front of him. You could barely hear the soft patter of your shoes as you walked down. When you finally got the main floor you looked up and saw him waiting for you patiently, things in his hands, a smile on his face. 
“Let’s go then, shall we?” You nodded shyly and he led the way, his office only a hallway away from the lecture hall. You found it slightly odd that he didn’t try to make conversation on your way there, since he always loved to. But you tried not to think too hard about it. Maybe he was just tired. 
When you reached his office, he opened the door and let you walk in first. Your eyes immediately scanned the room out of curiosity as you stepped inside, noticing his desk, the wood a dark mahogany which was covered with stacks of papers, picture frames, pens, and a few marvel funko pops––so he really was a fan. You’d never actually been inside of his office before. It was an intimidating thought for you to be in his office with him, alone. You just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. 
You turned to him and gestured to the chair across from his desk, “Do I just––”
“Please,” he interrupted eagerly. “Make yourself comfortable.” 
You took a seat and he set his things down next to his desk before sitting as well. His hair was coiffed to perfection today, curls sculpted nicely, a dark blue suit on his body with a black shirt underneath. He took off the suit jacket and put it on the back of his chair and you could see his veins and muscles bulging and shifting in his arms as he moved. He clasped his hands in front of him on the desk and wow he had nice fingers. You really had to get a grip on yourself––
“How was class today for you? Well, besides that one disappointing comment.”
You smiled, “I always enjoy the class, but yeah that was uh, disappointing as you said.
“I think your interpretations are always very insightful and very interesting. It’s almost a shame that you don’t share them with the whole class but part of me likes it that we keep them between us.” Oh? “Plus, I know how scary it can be talking in front of all those people. I almost shit myself first time I taught that class––”
You let out a surprised laughter and he couldn’t help laugh as well. 
“Shit, sorry! I mean––” He sighed, “Language, sorry. I’m British.” He shrugged, “Can’t help it.”
You shook your head, “It’s okay. Personally I think curse words spice up conversations.” You smiled proudly when he laughed at your joke. 
His smile radiated a more nervous energy after his laughter died off. “When you ran off yesterday, that wasn’t––was that because of me? Because if I did something to make you uncomfortable I’m so sorry.”
You tilted your head, trying to think of a way to explain. “No it wasn’t, well––it kind of was?” You had no idea why you would tell him this, but apparently your mouth was moving without agreeing with your mind first. 
There was almost a pout on his face and you had the sudden urge to reach over the table and smooth it out with your lips. “It’s just, well––You make me just a little bit nervous, to be honest professor.” You looked down at your lap and back up at him timidly.
He raised his brows, “Oh––”
Your smile was strained and you wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by the floor. 
“Well that’s not a bad thing, is it?” He looked at you almost, hopefully?
You laughed, “No trust me, it’s not.” Your eyes widened at the realization of what you’d basically just admitted to him and you didn’t know if you should feel embarrassed or relieved when the smirk appeared on his face.
But the words that he uttered next cleared that up for you. “Well, if I’m honest, you make me nervous too, darling. And definitely not in a bad way.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, almost teasing you with how good he looked.
You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, crossing your legs, your thighs squeezing together, and he definitely noticed, his eyes trailing down your body as he licked his lips as well. 
The tension in the room was so thick but you found that you didn’t want to escape it, if anything you wanted to carve your way through it, stay for as long as you could until it snapped. 
Your professor spread his legs, his hands coming down to rub at his thighs as he watched you and the sound of your heartbeat pounding filled your ears. It was almost as if there was an unseen force pulling the two of you together, but before it could there was a knock at the door. 
The both of your heads snapped to the door to find it opening slowly. Jacob, Tom’s teaching assistant popped his head in. You had talked to him a few times, he was always very nice. He didn’t attend every class, but you guessed that he would be attending the next one. “Hey man.” He turned to you and smiled, “Oh hi Y/N.” You waved and let out a small hi in response. He turned back to the professor. “Your next class is starting like––” He looked at his watch. “Now.” 
“Shit, sorry man. Lost track of time.” He got up and you did too, smiling sheepishly as you grabbed your things, getting up from your seat. “I’ll be right there.” Jacob nodded and closed the door.
You both made your way over to the exit slowly, still reeling from what maybe could have happened and what you both obviously thought of. The silence was loud around you, but it wasn’t scary this time. 
“Let me know if you need any help with the upcoming assignment, alright? Don’t be afraid to stop by if you need to.” His gaze dropped down to your lips for a split second before reaching your eyes again. “For anything.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t describe but quickly tried to mask it with a smile as he opened the door for you, his eyes practically holding yours captive. 
“Thank you, professor. I will.” 
You stepped out and he watched you for a few moments before closing the door. You looked back, smiling as you caught his eye and as soon as he stepped back in the office, you practically ran out of the building and to your dorm, a stupid grin on your face. 
“Holy shit.”
When you practically burst into your dorm room, scaring Liz half to death before you told her what happened, let’s just say she wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
“I fucking told you!” She flopped onto her bed, still staring at you pointedly as she did so, a smirk on her face. She pointed at you before dropping her hand down dramatically by her side. “You like, owe me a soda now or something.” 
You rolled your eyes but you were so giddy the smile still hadn’t dropped from your face. “Well I do owe you for getting me lunch yesterday, so maybe I will buy you one.”
Over the weekend, you started working on the essay for British Literature and you were already about halfway done since the topic you chose actually interested you. But you found yourself questioning if you were writing it properly as you went on. You weren’t sure if it was because you wanted it to be near perfect since you’d found out he paid extra attention to you, or maybe you just wanted to talk to him again––you’d never know. 
After discussing with Liz, you decided you’d stop by his office on Monday afternoon once you were done with your classes. You knew he liked to stay in his office until late at night sometimes, he always said we could stop by whenever, if we needed something. So you decided to take advantage of that, shoving down your anxious thoughts and doing what you wanted. 
Liz may or may not have convinced you to wear a shirt that was––aesthetically pleasing, to put it, specifically in the chest area so you were more than eager to see your professor’s reaction. You were a little nervous, you didn’t want it to seem like you were trying too hard, but you thought you looked good in this shirt, and you had a right to feel good about yourself. Since it was a little chilly outside, you hid it under a sweatshirt for now.
You got to his office and found yourself staring at the dark wood, hesitating to knock on. After taking a deep breath you rapped your knuckles against the door. 
You heard a faint Come in! And you took a deep breath and opened the door slowly to find him sitting at his desk, “Hi Professor Holland.” He was finishing some notes on a student’s essay but his head snapped up immediately at the sound of your voice.
He dropped his pen and sat up, “Please,” he motioned to the seat across from his desk and you smiled gratefully before settling down. “What can I do for you? Everything alright?”
His eyes looked sincere and concerned and you could feel your insides melting a little bit. 
“I just––I really want to do well on this essay,” He nodded for you to continue, “But I’m just not sure if I’m going in the right direction.”
 He nodded understandingly, “Well let’s have a look, shall we?”
You reached down to grab your things when he stood up and walked past you, your eyes following him in confusion. He gestured to the couch, a somewhat impish smile on his face. “Just thought it would be more comfortable––and easier for us to look together, of course.”
You nodded, a small smile on your face as you picked up your bag and sat next to him on the couch. “Right, of course.” It was a loveseat so there wasn’t much room for either of you to distance yourselves.
You got out your computer and opened up the essay. You had already opened it before you got there, not wanting to have to awkwardly wait for it to load. Yes, you overthought things but––it helped sometimes. “I see you came prepared,” he joked and you couldn’t help but smile. He really did notice everything, didn’t he.
“Well I’m really confident about the topic of my essay, I think it’s interesting. But I feel like I may be adding too much into the paper, and I’m not sure if I’m overthinking things or if I should take some things out.” 
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. I meant it when I said I appreciate having you in my class, you know. I always love reading your work. You write well.” 
“Thank you, professor.” Though you saw his eyes darken at the title, he commented on it.
“You can call me Tom when we’re alone, darling. No need for formalities.”
“But I like calling you professor––” Your hand shot up to cover your mouth and you spoke before he could, ignoring his smile, “I mean um. Tom––Okay I can try that.”
His tongue passed under his teeth, a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you squirm under his gaze. “No you know, now I think professor is growing on me.”
You pursed your lips, rolling your eyes. “Prof––Tom.”
He raised his hands in surrender, “Alright alright.” 
“Why don’t you read it to me? It’s easier to see where you can improve when you hear it out loud.”
You swallowed nervously, nodding your head as you brought your laptop closer to you. “O––Okay.”
You started reading your paper out loud, voice becoming slightly steadier as you went on, two fingers scrolling up the trackpad. He made comments as you read, only praise––and with each compliment you felt yourself getting hotter. Very good. Always write so well. Nice point there. Mhm. Good girl, that’s an excellent point. He shifted his way closer to you gradually as you read on and when his thigh touched yours, you had to tell yourself not to jump from the contact.  
He placed his arm on the back of the couch, basically around your shoulder and you had to smush down the urge to throw your computer and climb into his lap. His thighs did look very inviting with the way he was sitting, though. 
He moved closer to you and you could feel his breath cascading down over your shoulder as he brought his hand to the trackpad, his arm over your thigh, fingers scrolling through to where he had a few suggestions. 
When he finished his few remarks, you could hear the proud smile in his voice. “See, I knew it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought. You’re a good writer...” He paused and you turned your head slightly to find his lips mere inches from yours, his eyes trained on your mouth. His words were barely a whisper when he spoke up again, “A good student.” You both leaned in slowly and his hand came up to hold your cheek lightly. “Bet you’d be a good girl for me too.” 
You gasped lightly and leaned forward, giving in and finally pressing your lips to his, both your hands grabbing his jaw. He moaned immediately, his body pressing into yours as you twisted to face him, his other hand coming around your waist to pull you in. You felt your laptop slipping off your thighs and squeaked, making the both of you laugh and pull away, flustered. 
“Careful, love.” Tom grabbed the computer and put it down on the floor gently, confirming that you saved your work before pushing the lid closed. 
The air in the room was hot, thanks to Tom in general, but also thanks to what you just did. So you pulled away and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Tom’s pout when he thought you were getting up to leave. Since there wasn’t much space on the couch, you stood up to take your hoodie off and you heard his breath hitch when his eyes fell upon the shirt you were wearing. “Christ-”
“Now what’s this?” Tom said almost to himself, his eyes staring at you in wonder and awe. “Never seen this little number before.” He noticed the clothes you wore? His hands were already aching to feel you again, reaching out for you subconsciously and you bit your lip to calm your smile as you sat back down, letting your sweater fall to the floor softly. 
“What, this old thing?” You joked, looking down at the shirt––yeah, you looked good. “You like it?” You looked up at him, a cheekily innocent look in your eyes.
He put his hands around your waist and pulled you into his lap, enjoying the gasp it elicited from you. You put your hands gingerly on his shoulders and the way he was looking up at you made you never want to leave this position ever again. You tilted your head and licked your lips and Tom couldn’t take it anymore, he kissed you again, hands gripping you firmly, anchoring you to him. He pulled away after a good while, wanting to look at you again, his lips parted, practically panting like an animal. You really had an effect on him, but he did the same to you. 
His eyes were taking you in, basically capturing a mental image for later. “God, you look heavenly, darling.” You squirmed in his lap and bit your lip when you felt a bulge growing underneath you. He leaned forward and left a trail of kisses on the tops of your breasts, leaving a few teasing nips and sucks here and there. You squealed, your hands coming up to run your fingers through his hair. You pulled his head up by his hair and the look in his eyes looked absolutely feral––like he wanted to eat you. 
You were about to lean in and kiss him again when a knock at the door surprised the both of you. You both jumped off of the couch as Tom threw out excuses. “Yeah just a second!” You straightened out your shirt as Tom did the same to his pants and you picked up your things. 
When he saw that you were settled, he took a deep breath and answered the door. His colleague and best friend Professor Osterfield, was standing there, a grin on his face. “You div, are you ever going to be on time for our monthly meetings?––” He stood up straight when he noticed you standing behind Tom. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.” He looked between the two of you and it seemed as though he pieced everything together. Maybe Tom had told him about you? If he did, you wouldn’t be worried Tom didn’t seem like the type to tell unreliable people his business––and they were best friends after all.
You smiled at him in acknowledgement as moved aside to let you pass. “Sorry,” you looked between the both of them, “I’ll let you get to whatever you have to go to.” You looked at Tom once you were out of his office, “Thank you for the feedback, professor.”
You could see him fighting off his smirk before he replied, “Of course.” His stare was impenetrable as he looked at you, “Feel free to come by whenever.” You could see the hidden meaning in his words and let the hint of a smile show, before nodding and walking off.
Harrison looked at him, a pitiful smile on his face. “I hope you know what you’re doing, mate. You should be careful, for the both of you.”
Tom sighed, not wanting to have this conversation. “I know, man. Let’s go.” 
You found yourself missing Tom as soon as you left. God, this was kind of pathetic. But at least your feelings weren’t necessarily one sided––he did say you made him nervous too after all. You doubt he’d say that if he just wanted to fuck you––he was better than most men. And sure you might be a little biased, but at the end of the day he had a good heart and he was educated. So bonus. 
When you stepped into your dorm, your roommate was sitting on her bed, snacks in hand as she looked at you expectantly. “Now these,” she gestured to the food on her bed, “are either for a story time, to rebuild your energy or both.” 
You laughed and changed into your pajamas, starting to tell your best friend about everything that just happened. She often interrupted with her reactions and comments.
Oh. My. God.
Shut. Up.
You’re fucking lying! 
“But we didn’t fuck.”
“Yes, boo.” You laughed, “Professor Osterfield knocked at the door and dragged him off to a meeting so.” You shrugged.
“Professor that the hot blond one?” You nodded and she continued expressing her feelings for the man. “I’d let him teach me a few things––”
“Literally bye.”
She laughed, “What? Come on have you seen him––”
“I’m a little preoccupied with another professor to be honest.”
She nodded, handing you a bag of chips as you settled in your bed. “True. And oh how lucky you are.” You smiled in agreement. 
Today was the day the essay was due and though you normally handed it in at the beginning of class, for once, you didn’t and you could feel Tom’s gaze following you as you walked up the steps to your seat without so much as a glance in his direction. You’d stopped by his office a few times over the past two weeks since Harrison interrupted you, but you never did anything more than kissing and grinding. You were both too scared of getting caught, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t thought about doing more in there.  
Tom liked to have physical copies of the essays, just in case technology decides it’s against him (his words), so everyone had until 8pm tonight to drop it off by his office. You were definitely going to use that to your advantage. 
You didn’t wear anything provocative to class, you didn’t really want that kind of attention today, plus you knew that Tom’s interest in you wasn’t solely based on your appearance. So you put the revealing items on under your clothing. And honestly, the thought that no one knew what you were wearing underneath it all only excited you even further. 
You crossed your legs, relieving your tension and biting your lip as class went on, enjoying how flustered Tom would be every time he looked at you. You felt so submissive when you were alone with him, but when you were in public like this? Free to tease him subtly from a distance? That’s where you had all the power. 
You had him blushing and stuttering throughout the whole class, though it wouldn’t have been easy for everyone else to notice, for you it was so obvious. He kept rubbing his hands together, pacing around as his eyes darted to you every few minutes. At one point he went over to sit down at his desk, which he rarely did while teaching––and you were fairly certain it was to hide a bulge in his pants. All thanks to you. 
In the middle of the class, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and pulled it out just to see if it was an emergency. You were pleasantly surprised and could feel your whole body react when you noticed who the message was from.
Tom: Having fun, are you?
Your eyes shot up to the front of the room and you bit your lip to contain your smile when you noticed him glaring at you.
Y/N: I always have fun in this class, professor ;)
You put your phone away afterwards and focused on the class, knowing it was killing Tom that you weren’t giving him more attention. Your heart was racing and your panties had a wet patch by the time class was over. You had a feeling he was going to try to keep you after class, so you hurried up and gathered your things, sighing in relief when a few students went up to his desk to talk to him. 
You smirked to yourself and headed straight for the door, your head high on your shoulders. But just as you were about two feet from the exit, Tom spoke up. 
“I assume I’ll be seeing you later, Miss Y/L/N?”
You turned around, eyes slightly widening as you noticed him, the group of students near him.
He smirked slyly, “To turn in your paper, remember?” His eyes were giving you a knowing look.
You swallowed, nodding as you smiled at him innocently. “Of course, professor.” You enjoyed the way his eyes darkened only slightly, only noticeable to you. “See you then.” With that you walked out.
You practically skipped to his office at around 7:45, before knocking at the door, four knocks in a specific pattern––the code you’d made together. 
“Come in, darling!”
You walked in and quickly shut the door, a chuckle escaping you. “You know someone could hear you from the outside one day, right?”
He shrugged, “I’ll just blame it on my accent. Could call everyone darling, they don’t know any better.”
You laughed. “Okay well––Professor Holland,” you said, loving the way he looked at you when you uttered his title. “I brought this for you.” You took out the printed essay and placed it on his desk.
He pushed his chair out, his eyes following your every move as he spread his legs. “Oh is that right?” 
You took the invitation and took your reserved seat in his lap, linking your arms around his neck as you looked down at him. “Mhm, still want a good grade in this class you know. You are my favorite professor after all.”
He smirked smugly, licking his lips. “And you,” he kissed your lips before pulling away briefly, “Are my favorite girl.” He brought his hands up your back and pulled you into him as he kissed you again. This time, longer and deeper, wanting to feel you as much as possible. “Teased me so much in class today.” You smiled into the kiss and he continued, “Almost wanted to take you over my knee right there in front of everyone.” 
You moaned audibly and he brought his hand up to your neck, gripping you softly but firmly, giving you room to pull away if you didn’t approve. When you leaned further into his grip, he grinned and pulled you closer. You started grinding down on him, basking in the desperate groans and sighs you were coaxing out of him, the way his movements became more frantic as he bucked into you. 
After debating with yourself in your head for a moment––struggling to think properly with his hands all over you, you got off of his lap and smiled at the small whines of protest he let out before reaching for his belt. You made eye contact with him and noticed how wide his eyes were, hopeful, hungry, but hesitant. 
His hands reached for yours, “You don’t have to, darling. If anything I should be doing this first. God knows I’ve thought about it.”
You pouted, trying your best to ignore his words and focus on the task at hand. “But I want to,” you kissed his cheek, “I wanna make you feel good, professor.” He nodded, barely able to speak.
“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?” 
You nodded eagerly, licking your lips as he pulled himself out of his trousers. “More than anything. Wanna make up for earlier.” You got down on your knees, mouth practically salivating at the way his member stood tall against his abdomen, his tip leaking with precum. 
Your hand wrapped around him just as a knock sounded at the door. Professor?
The both of your eyes widened, the both of you looking around for some sort of answer before he ushered you under the desk, tucking himself back in hastily, pulling his chair as much as he could and sitting at the edge, hiding his unbuttoned and unbuckled pants. Luckily for the both of you, the back of the desk reached the floor, so whoever it was wouldn’t be able to see you hiding underneath. “Uh––Come in!”
The person walked in and you recognized the sound of her voice, she often spoke up in the lectures. You couldn’t remember her name, though. You do, however, remember that she often spoke up only to get Tom’s attention. You’d heard her gush about him in the halls just outside his class in the hopes of him hearing her. You couldn’t blame her, but the thought still irked you. “I just wanted to give you my paper. I hope it’s not too late.” 
Tom checked the time on his watch, 7:58. “Nope,” he laughed breathlessly, trying to compose himself, “Not too late at all, in fact just in time.” 
She handed her paper to Tom and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying his best not to think about the fact that your hands were trailing up his thighs and that he could feel your warm breath hitting the exposed part of his member––he really hadn’t payed attention when he tucked himself back in. 
Before he could send the girl who’s name you still hadn’t remembered off, she took a seat across from him and he swallowed nervously, a little frustrated since he was so close to getting his cock in his girl’s mouth. 
It seemed that you somehow read his thoughts because as soon as the girl kept talking for another two minutes, you pulled his member out and stroked him, licking up his shaft and he tensed, taking every ounce of self control he had not to look down at you. His hand reached down and held your cheek gently, just wanting to feel you. You nuzzled into his palm and he had to bite his lip to suppress his smile, not wanting the student across from him to think his endearing expression was meant for her. 
You honestly completely tuned out all the words she was saying, your sole focus pleasuring Tom. But you didn’t miss the flirty and falsely innocent tone in her voice. You couldn’t see her but she was no doubt batting her eyelashes at him as well. 
When she made a comment about how good his shirt looked on him, you couldn’t help yourself, you sucked his tip into your mouth with no warning, making him groan unexpectedly. You paused, eyes wide and playful as your mouth stayed around him.
“Are you okay professor?” 
He let out a strained smile, “Yes, Emma, Sorry––” So her name was Emma. “I just uh banged my knee on the desk.”
She hummed a small okay and went on.
He caught your eye, trying his best to keep his expression neutral, but boy was it hard. Especially when you were looking up at him like that, with his cock in your mouth. You licked around his tip and lowered your mouth around him and he had to force himself to focus on the girl who was still talking to him.
You were not playing fair but quite frankly you didn’t care. You were making him feel good and yourself too. Your hand was pumping him, your tongue swirling around him as quietly as you could, while your other hand found its place between your thighs. 
In the middle of Emma’s speech, Tom’s eyes drifted down and widened, his breath getting caught in his throat when he noticed your other hand, moving between your legs. He stuttered out an excuse, unable to tear his eyes away from you for a moment, “Uh, Emma I’m so sorry––I just have so much work to do, but feel free to come back––” he paused to swallow when you sucked harder around him in reaction to his invitation. “Come back next week if you have any problems or anything else you’d like to discuss.”
She hesitantly but respectfully said goodbye and was on her way, closing the door behind her.
Tom’s hands immediately shot down to hold your head, his mouth dropped open as he watched you, approaching his high. “Shit, that’s it darling that’s it. So fucking good for me.”
“I’m gonna cum––” he warned. You simply hummed around him and sped up your movements, feeling yourself clench as he panted, his hips bucking slightly as he came into your mouth. You unfortunately weren’t able to cum but you were sure there’d be other chances. You popped off of him and swallowed his load before licking up his length teasingly slow. “Fuck, such a good girl.”
He pulled his chair out and brought you up to stand between his legs, tiling his head to look up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs absentmindedly. “Was someone a little jealous?”
You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but failing to fix your annoyed facial expression. “Maybe.”
He tucked himself back into his pants and stood up, chuckling as he squeezed your cheek. “I’m yours.” He pecked your lips, before looking in your eyes, “And I’m most definitely repaying the favor when we get home. I mean––if you want to, of course.” Home. 
You couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah––Okay.” 
You’d never been to Tom’s house before so this felt like sort of a big deal to you, but you were going to try and calm your racing thoughts and heart. You and Tom agreed that you would go around the corner of the building for him to pick you up in his car, not wanting to risk anyone seeing you.
As soon as you were settled in, seatbelt on, Tom drove off and honestly the thrill of having to hide was exciting to the both of you. His hand was gripping your thigh throughout the whole drive and you could tell it was meant as a reminder that he was there for you, but also that he could barely contain himself. 
Seeing Tom drive you, the flashing street lights illuminating his face, highlighting his jawline, his hand gripping your thigh––this was a sight you knew you wanted to see more. The intimacy of it all made you warm inside and the feeling of Tom’s fingertips digging into your skin only riled you up further.
You leaned over to kiss his cheek and he smiled at the feeling of your soft lips drifting over his skin. “Darling––” His words were cut off by a harsh moan when you trailed your lips down to his sweet spot, the noise almost too loud for the quiet, tense air in the car.
You teased, licked and bit at his skin, not afraid to leave marks. It was Friday now, if anyone saw them on Monday, they would just assume he’d had an eventful weekend. Honestly, the thought that no one would know that you were the one who left those marks excited you––it would be a secret between you and Tom, a thing for the two of you to share on your own.
Tom’s hands were now gripping the wheel and your thigh with force, trying to get his bearings. “You’re being very naughty today, love. Can’t say that I don’t love it though.”
You smiled sinfully into his neck, continuing your actions. Your hand slid over his thigh teasingly slow to rest on his bulge, fingers squeezing ever so softly and he practically jolted in his seat. “Christ––love unless you want me to crash this car I suggest you stop.”
You pulled away, satisfied with how much you’d riled him up. He almost whined at the loss of contact, subconsciously upset that you’d actually stopped. But as your hand reached back down to find its place between your thighs, his tone shifted. 
“Don’t you dare touch what’s mine. That’s my job.”
You actually felt a shiver pass through your body and you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his dominant voice, excited for what was to come.
When you made it to his apartment, you barely had time to take in the scenery and take off your shoes and jackets before he dragged you to his room. But from what you saw, the decor was simple but elegant, much like Tom. His bedroom was the same, but again, you weren’t too focused on it.
He turned on the dim light in his room, wanting to be able to see you as he pleased you. He stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your waist, looking deep into your eyes. “You still want this?” 
You nodded absolutely certain. “Want you to take me.”
His pupils dilated and he pulled your shirt up and over your head, licking his lips, eyes widening when he noticed what you were wearing and you couldn’t help but smile.
“Christ, were you wearing this all day?” 
You nodded again. “The underwear’s matching too. Wanna see?”
He got down on his knees, a teasing but desperate tone to his voice. “You’re a smart girl, don’t ask stupid questions.” He unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down along with your socks, mouth dropping open as he got to see the full set. 
You ran your hands up and down your body teasingly as he stood up. “Do you like it?”
He shook his head, smiling in disbelief, “Again with the silly questions, love.” He leaned in to kiss you, pulling away to take off his clothes. “You look like a goddess, darling.” You could feel your skin heating up from his words and his stare. He pulled you in for another kiss before bringing you onto the bed.
You lied down in the middle and spread your legs, waiting for him eagerly as he lied down between them. “Can’t fucking wait to taste you, love.” 
He pulled your panties over to the side and licked into you, his tongue softly swiping through your folds. His eyes rolled back as he moaned into you, “Taste just as perfect as you look.” He slid his hands around your thighs and pulled you in closer, smiling at the small squeak you let out.
His tongue was exploring you, finding all the spots and all the tricks that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. He was keeping this all to memory, memorizing the way you feel, the way you look. When your breaths quickened and your fingers tugged at his curls, he locked his arm around your stomach, slid one, then two fingers inside of you and sped up his movements, moving his head from side to side as he hummed onto your clit. 
Your body tensed and you held onto him for dear life as the knot in your stomach gave out, the pleasure spreading all throughout your body. Your mouth dropped open in ecstasy, your neck craning back and Tom couldn’t look away from you. You looked like a painting and he wanted to commit it to memory. 
He let go of you and kissed his way up your body, soothing you with his lips. Your legs were still twitching slightly, your stomach clenching and unclenching when his kisses reached your cheek. “Look so pretty when you come for me.” He kissed along your jaw, “Can’t believe you’ve deprived me of such a beautiful sight for so long.” He kissed your lips and tugged your bottom one between his teeth, before looking at you, eyes wide, “You gonna give me the privilege of seeing it again?” 
You smiled, your hands coming up to hold his cheeks. “You can see it whenever you want. As long as you’re the one making it happen.” You pulled him to you and kissed him, the both of you moaning into the small gaps between your mouths. 
He started to pull away but you whined and pulled him back making him smile. “I’ve gotta get a condom, love.”
He tried to get up again but you pulled him back down, “M’on the pill Tommy.” You looked up at him, pouting and he almost gasped––the effect you had on him was insane. “Just fuck me please.”
He didn’t need anymore convincing, grabbing a hold of his cock and swiping it through your folds, groaning out loud at how good your wetness felt. You bucked your hips and realizing you were getting desperate, he finally slid into you and all your senses immediately tuned into him. 
Just like your dream––All of your senses were in overdrive. All you could feel were the hands tracing every curve of your body, playing you like a toy they’d made themselves. All you could hear was that sweet, rough voice telling you praises and calling you endearing names as your whole body shivered from the pleasure. 
His eyes were watching your face, taking you in as he thrusted into you, making sure you were enjoying everything he was giving you. You felt absolutely amazing and so did he. “So perfect for me, darling. That’s it.” He bit his lip and sped up, making your jaw drop as you stared into his eyes, completely open and vulnerable to him. His touch was tantalizing, even better than your fantasies which only meant you’d become more addicted to him and what he could do to you.
He grunted, angling his hips when he found your spot, hitting it over and over, bringing his hand down to play with your clit. “Told you I wanted to see you cum again, pretty girl. So you’re gonna cum then I’m gonna fill you up. That sound okay?”
You nodded eagerly, eyes watching his every move as your hands gripped his arms, your thighs burning invitingly as they stretched around him with every thrust. Then you uttered that one word that always had him almost inappropriately weak for you. “Want to be full of you, professor.”
His jaw slacked and he paused for a slight moment before picking up his pace, faster than before, hips chasing after both your highs, fingers still rubbing you just the way he learned, just the way you liked. “Fuck-–”
A few more thrusts and flicks of his wrist and you were tensing under him, your pussy clenching around him as he let out broken curses and moans, losing his rhythm and releasing into you with a groan. 
He rested some of his weight on you for a moment, the both of you smiling and laughing breathlessly as you took in the moment. Your hands came up to play with his curls and he sighed, leaning into your touch. He lowered his head into the crook of your neck and left a few soft kisses, coaxing some sighs from you as well.  
After a moment, he rolled over and took you with him, making you nuzzle further into him, his arm wrapped around you, your leg slung over his waist. His hand was rubbing up to your ass and down to your thigh, lulling you to sleep while simultaneously riling you up again. 
He kissed your forehead and you kissed his chest in response. “That was fucking amazing, love.”
You nodded and hummed in agreement, “Even better than my dreams.”
He pulled back to look at you, you could hear his heartbeat quicken and you tried to hide your face in his chest. “You had dreams about this too?”
That made you lift your head up to look at him. You could see in his eyes that he wasn’t joking but you were still slightly shocked. “Too?”
He smiled, licking his lips, “Well maybe we should discuss them, and try them out for ourselves.” His hand found its way between your legs again, making you moan but that didn’t stop you from responding.
You nodded, “For research purposes, of course.”
“Of course.” He grinned, “See, I knew I taught you well.” He leaned in to kiss you deeply, “My girl’s the perfect student.” 
You spent hours exploring each other's bodies as you reenacted your dreams, both exceeding each other's expectations every time. By the time you fell asleep in each other's arms, it was late at night and you were sweaty, and tired, but overwhelmingly pleased.
The next Friday, it was halloween. Liz had somehow convinced you to go to a halloween party with her. On top of that it was a frat party. And even worse, you dressed up as a school girl because it was all last minute and you didn’t have any time to get a costume. 
“Oh come on Y/N, you look hot!”
You turned in the full length mirror to look at your ass that was almost visible in this mini skirt. “You think so?”
And that’s all the convincing you needed to go out. You needed a little college fun. You hadn’t been to a party in who knows how long because you were always focusing on your work. You deserved this. Also Liz said it was a celebration of your “lay”, yes, she said lay. 
“I’m just saying you cannot let me get with him again.”
“Liz it’s literally his frat house that we’re going to and we both know you have little to no self control.”
“Well damn. You couldn’t have sugar coated it?”
“What, you want me to throw a packet of splenda on you?” You joked.
She shoved you, “Dude shut up,” she laughed.
You looked down at your bare thighs that were only partly covered by your thigh high socks and rubbed your arms, regretting not bringing a jacket when Liz spoke up again. “Oh shit, is that Professor Holland?”
Your eyes shot up and made direct eye contact with him. He was wearing a hoodie and some sweats but he still looked great as usual. His eyes trailed down your body and soon your shivers were no longer because of the cold. 
“I’ll just wait here.” Liz said suggestively and you walked over to Tom. 
He put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch you, he didn’t know who was around. “Well hello to you too.” He looked into your eyes, a smirk on his face. You rubbed your arms quickly for warmth, and Tom had to control himself to not look at your chest, even though he could see your nipples hardening from the weather through your shirt. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and take you home. 
“Any plans?” You asked.
“No, I'm just about to go home. I’m uh guessing you have somewhere to be?” His eyes traced your figure again.
“Yeah um me and Liz are going to a frat party.” You pointed back to your friend and gave him a small smile and shrug. “She convinced me.”
He wanted to kiss you so bad but he had to restrain himself.
“Be safe tonight, yeah?” His eyes were comforting, as they always were, but this felt almost more personal? Almost like he didn’t want you to go. And honestly, after seeing him, you almost didn’t want to either. You never defined your relationship with him, so honestly right now he was like a friend with benefits––professor with benefits, if you will. 
You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “O––Okay. I will. You be safe too!”
His eyes followed you as you walked off, your friend pulling you along, obviously whispering to you, probably about him. You looked so fucking good and everyone else was going to see that too. It’s not like he owned you or anything, but part of him really wished he could claim you, openly care for you and be affectionate. His thoughts were a mix of wholesome and raunchy and he had no idea how to act.
He almost felt wrong but he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his mind, the way you looked up at him sheepishly, the innocent look in your eyes while you were wearing that mini skirt. His cock was bulging in his boxers ever since he first laid eyes on you. When he got home, he made his way to his bed, undressing almost immediately. Lying down in the middle of the bed, just where you were days before brought a flood of memories into his mind, only making his member throb even more. He tugged at his cock, spitting in his hand to make it slick.
Images of you were flashing in his mind as he sped up his movements, desperate for a release. 
He was dying to get a taste of you again. The memory of the way you felt under his fingertips, the way your muscles clenched when he hit the right spots. The way you tasted when you were dripping onto his tongue. The way you looked at him when you came, your lips parted to release broken moans and whimpers. The way your fingers gripped his curls as your body tensed. It was all enough to make him spill over his hand, his breaths coming out in quick pants as his head dropped back onto the pillow.
“Fuck.” He really had it bad for you. 
Tom had texted you during class on Tuesday to meet him in his office when you were done with classes for the day. When you stepped into the room, he locked the door immediately, bringing you over to his desk, his lips chasing yours. Screw worrying about people hearing you, he wanted you. Now. 
“God, just seeing you in that tight little costume––you have no idea how badly I wanted to ravish you. The thought of all those dumb frat boys seeing you in all your glory like that––I was absolutely beside myself.” So that’s what this was about. His hand came up to hold your cheek, his eyes fiercely staring into yours and you nuzzled into his touch, your hand holding his wrist softly and his eyes softened at the sight of you.
“I’m gonna absolutely devour you.” You gasped and he smiled, pulling your pants along with panties down. He sat you down on his desk and got down on his knees, licking his lips. “As soon as I got a taste of you, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go without it ever again.” He kissed your thigh, looking up at you. “You gonna let me have a taste again? Wanna make you feel good, lovie.”
You nodded, swallowing roughly, “Y––Yeah. Yes please.”
He chuckled breathlessly, “Such a polite little thing you are.” He kissed his way from your inner thigh to your center before licking a torturously slow stripe from your hole to your clit. You let out a sigh and gripped the desk, your fingertips becoming lighter at how hard you were already holding it.
His hands held your thighs open, putting them over his shoulders, holding you in place. His tongue was languidly licking you up and down, savoring your taste and your moans, coaxing them out of you one by one, nonstop. He looked up at you and your breath got caught in your throat, the look in his eyes fierce, almost as if he could see your bare soul and he clearly liked what he saw. He brought his lips to close around your heat after every other swipe of his tongue, passionately kissing your heat. 
“So fucking good, angel. Always the best for me.”
You nodded, licking your lips, one of your hands coming to grab at his curls, making him growl into you. “Only for you, Tommy.”
He didn’t stop his tongue or his lips until you came, your back arching, fingers frantically grabbing for whatever you could hold, lip trapped between your teeth to muffle the moans that so desperately wanted to escape into the quiet air of the room. He kept going until you had to pull his head away from you, overwhelmed by all the pleasure and scared that you would scream and alert everyone in the building about what you were up to.
His hands were caressing your thighs, eyes looking at you in awe, almost too innocently for what you’d just done. He stood up between your legs and leaned in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips. 
He pulled away to look at you, hands holding your hips as your legs wrapped around his waist. You brought your arms up to link around his neck, looking up at him appreciatively and absolutely spent. “So do you think I should wear school girl outfits more often?”
He laughed, his hands holding you tighter, “If you do, my head is never leaving between your thighs.”
You smiled cheekily, batting your lashes at him. “Promise?”
He’d never gotten down on his knees quicker in his life. Let’s just say it took you another hour before you left his office.
Over the past few weeks it had become a routine for you to go over to Tom’s office to seemingly “work on your assignments and review,” so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to show up unannounced Friday afternoon. Without meaning to, though, it seemed you showed up a little too early, and ended up overhearing part of Tom and Harrison’s conversation. 
“I can tell Y/N means a lot to you, mate. Don’t lie.” Your heart dropped to your stomach as you skidded just in front of the door, about to turn the corner inside. You backed up and stayed pressed to the wall. Luckily no one really stopped by this side of the building at this time on a Friday, so no one would find you snooping around in the middle of the hallway. 
“No I just––”
No. He said no––Okay you weren’t going to freak out. This always happens in the movies, and then the main character runs away before hearing the most important part and they overreact. So you decided to just...wait it out. 
So you waited and waited. And the more the silence overwhelmed you, the louder it got. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes because you really thought your feelings were mutual. But just as you inched your foot backwards to walk away, he spoke up again, his voice quiet. 
“She means everything to me, man. I––It scares me, honestly. I just don’t want to mess it up.” 
This time the tears fully formed in your eyes, but for the absolute opposite reason. You smiled and wiped at your eyes, not even bothering to hide anymore as you turned the corner, surprising Tom, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. Harrison turned around to see you and his gaze filled with concern as well. 
“Tom––” your voice was quiet but there was a smile on your face. 
“Darling––” He rushed over to you and grabbed your hands, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs to catch the few tears that escaped. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”
Your hands came up to hold his wrists as you looked into his eyes, “I heard you talking.” 
His face dropped in realization and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 
Harrison cleared his throat and subtly made his way out, “You guys have some things to discuss.” He put a hand on your shoulder and you both smiled at each other appreciatively before he walked out, shutting the door behind him. 
Tom took your hands and brought you over to the couch. “I hope I didn’t scare you off, love.”
You shook your head immediately, even climbing in his lap to prove him wrong and he smiled gratefully. “No! It’s just that we never really talked, you know, about us.” He nodded and you took that as a sign to continue, enjoying the way his hands subconsciously slipped under your shirt to rub at your skin soothingly. “I like you Tom, obviously. But I like you a lot.” You linked your hands behind his neck. “I think I might be falling for you.”
His eyes started tearing up as well, as he smiled, “Yeah well, I think I’ve already fallen for you, darling.” 
You looked into his eyes and your smile brightened, “Okay maybe I lied––I’ve definitely already fallen for you as well.”
You both laughed lovingly, pulling each other in for a sweet kiss.“Look,” Tom started, licking his lips. “I don’t know what this means for our future, but all I know is I don’t plan on letting you go any time soon.” 
You kissed his lips softly, “Well I don’t plan on leaving any time soon either.” 
“Good.” He looked at you and you felt as though your soul was out and open for him to hold and love. “Cause you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N and I don’t ever want to lose you.” 
You could feel your eyes tearing up again. This felt good. This felt like home.
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duskholland · 5 months ago
Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut
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ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.
summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around...   word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni.   a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3   —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!
extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand​ also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’) 
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)
✧ *:・゚Crash Into You ・゚:*✧
“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”
You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.
“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”
Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.
Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.
“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”
The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.
“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”
You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”
She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”
“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”
“No. What happened?”
You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.
“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”
Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”
You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”
Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.
“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.
Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.
You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.
There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.
“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.
Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.
A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.
Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.
Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”
Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.
“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.
You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.
Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.
“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”
The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.
“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”
You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.
“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”
“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”
You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.
Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?
He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”
You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.
“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”
You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.
“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.
“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”
You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.
“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”
The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.
“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.
You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.
The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.
For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.
You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.
He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.
“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”
You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”
You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”
Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.
“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”
He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.
“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”
You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.
“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.
“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.
Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”
Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.
You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”
“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”
“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”
Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.
“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”
You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”
Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”
It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”
Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.
“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”
You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”
There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”
You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.
“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”
“3, 2, 1, go!”
It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.
“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.
You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”
Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”
“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”
You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.
“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”
Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”
You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.
“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”
You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.
“There!” you announce, smile on your face.
Tom gulps nervously.
“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.
Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.
“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”
His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”
You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.
“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”
Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.
“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.
“Not properly.”
Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”
You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.
“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”
You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”
You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.
Tom cackles.
“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.
“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.
Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.
He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”
“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.
Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.
“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”
You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.
“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”
You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.
“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”
He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.
“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.
Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.
“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”
You nod. “Okay.”
“Follow my line in.”
Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.
It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.
“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”
You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.
“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”
“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”
He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.
You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.
“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.
Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.
“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”
All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.
“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”
Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?
“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”
Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.
“Me too.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.
One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.
It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.
His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.
Tom follows you…?
Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.
After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.
“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.
“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”
“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”
“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”
He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.
“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.
Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”
You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.
Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.
“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”
Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”
Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”
Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”
He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.
He’s cute.
“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”
You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”
Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.
Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.
Y/N: hey x
A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.
Tom: hi xx
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.
Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.
Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.
“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”
You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.
“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”
You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.
“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”
You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.
“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”
It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.
Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.
“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”
“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”
“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”
You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”
Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.
“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”
“Wait, is it a home game?”
Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”
You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.
“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”
You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”
He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”
It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.
You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.
“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.
Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.
“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”
Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”
You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”
“Give me a spin, darling.”
You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.
“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”
It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”
He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”
Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”
Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.
“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”
He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”
“Dutchy?” you question.
Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”
You coo. “That’s cute.”
Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.
“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.
Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.
The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.
And Tom… Tom.
Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.
Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.
The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.
He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.
The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.
The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.
“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”
You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.
“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.
“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”
Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.
“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”
A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.
Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.
You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.
“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”
Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”
You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”
He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”
It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”
Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”
You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”
Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.
“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.
You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.
The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.
On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.
“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”
The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.
“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”
You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”
“Yes, coach.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.
“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.
There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.
“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”
Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”
You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,
“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”
He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”
The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.
“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”
Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”
You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”
“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.
“Yeah. Friends.”
He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.
“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”
Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.
“Did you?”
“Did you think I was hot?”
It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”
Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.
“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”
“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”
His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.
“Thanks, darling.”
Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.
“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”
“What, sweetheart?”
Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.
It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.
You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.
“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.
There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.
“D’you want to—”
“Oi, Dutchy!”
You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.
You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”
Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.
“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”
He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.
You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”
“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”
You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.
Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”
“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.
“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.
“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.
You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.
Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.
Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.
“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”
It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.
“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.
“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”
You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.
“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.
“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.
Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”
Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”
“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”
A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.
You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.
…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.
You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.
“What— Tom?”
For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.
“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”
You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”
Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.
“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”
“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”
“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.
“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”
Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.
“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.
Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”
You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”
He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.
“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”
You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.
“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”
Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.
By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.
“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”
You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”
He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.
“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.
“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”
Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.
“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”
You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”
Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.
You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.
“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.
The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.
“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.
“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.
He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.
“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”
You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.
“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”
His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.
“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”
Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.
“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”
“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”
He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.
Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.
“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.
“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”
Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.
“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”
You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”
Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.
“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”
You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”
Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”
You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.
“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
It’s noisy in the arena.
With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.
The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.
You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.
He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.
It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.
“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”
Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.
“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”
Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.
“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”
You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”
Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.
Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.
Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.
“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”
Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”
You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”
Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”
You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.
The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.
You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.
“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.
“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”
“Yeah. Penalty.”
“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”
“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”
He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.
“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”
“Mmm. Harry said so.”
Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”
You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.
“Funnier than me?”
“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”
“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”
“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”
Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.
“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”
He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”
“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”
Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.
It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.
You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.
You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.
“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.
“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”
Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”
Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.
You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.
“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”
A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.
“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.
“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”
Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”
He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.
“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”
You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.
“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.
A smile breaks out across your face.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”
Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.
“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.
His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.
“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”
You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.
“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.
“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.
You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”
Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.
It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.
“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”
“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.
Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.
His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.
“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”
The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.
“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”
“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”
You roll your eyes.
“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.
Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.
“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.
You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.
Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.
The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.
You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.
“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.
Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”
You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.
“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”
“Close your eyes first.”
“Because I said so.”
Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.
“You can open them now.”
It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.
“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”
You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.
“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”
Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.
“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”
Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”
You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”
“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”
Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.
“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”
Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”
The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.
“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”
Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”
You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.
“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”
His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”
Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.
(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!
mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!
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worldoftom · a year ago
Riding My | masterpost [18+]
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pairing » actor ! Tom x female reader
warnings » fluff, angst, smut; further warnings in each chapter
author’s note » this series is 18+ : unsuitable for minors
One day, Tom finds a notebook on his living room couch. It’s just sitting there, casually opened to a random page, but when he reads it, he realizes exactly what he’s found. It’s your journal. Your personal journal, one that he knew existed, but had no idea what it looked like or what it contained. Until now. Two of the words that he reads trigger in his mind the question of what you might possibly be hiding from him — or trying to tell him. Will you ever come out and say it? Or will he have to coax it out of you?
Explicit chapters marked with an asterisk (*) (T) = Tom’s pov; (Y) = reader’s pov; TBA = to be announced
Prologue (T)
One - Journal (Y)
Interlude - Anniversary (T) *
Two - Scarf (Y)
Three - Innocence (T)
Four - Chair (Y) *
Four - Chair - Alternate Version (T) *
Five - Bendy Wendy (Y)
Six - Unbent (T)
Seven - Miscommunication (Y)
Eight - Ride (T) *
Nine - Facial (Y) *
Ten - Away (T) » part 1 // part 2
Eleven - Rendez-vous (Y)
Twelve - Reunited (T) *
Thirteen - Murmur (Y) *
Fourteen - Instructor (T) *
Fifteen - Snaps (Y) *
Sixteen - Vibe (T) *
Seventeen - Dread (Y)
(more to be added...)
Epilogue (T)
main masterlist | send me feedback?
☆*。Special Thanks 💙
@hypnotized-so-mesmerized​​, @thirsttrapholland​​, @softbaby-tom​​, @terrifictomholland​​, @farfromparker​,
Currently on hiatus, but I’ll add a link to the taglist once it’s back <3
© 2021 worldoftom. All rights reserved.
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starktonyx · a year ago
Inexperienced (Peter Parker x reader)
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Word count: 3k
Requested by anon: Teaching inexperienced Peter how to kiss and it escalates quickly.
Note: At first I didn’t know how to write this but I really like the way it turned out, I hope this is what you wanted! Also I hoped this to be short but whenever I write things get out of control so sorry lol. Anyway enjoy!
Peter had a plan.
Ever since he knew about the science trip, Peter made a plan to confess his feelings for you. And it was perfect really, if things went the way he planned them, except they didn't.
Of course the first step failed when he had ended up sitting next to Mr. Harrington on the flight after Ned had claimed he had a perfume allergy. And of course you ended up sitting next to your ex, Brad Davis.
The Brad Davis. The once scrawny eleven year old boy, now ripped sixteen year old guy had dated you for around a year and half during the blip, since you both were part of the un dusted ones. And Peter wasn't the kind to feel intimidated by enemies, in fact he always ran in the direction of danger, but damn he felt embarrassingly intimidated by the six feet tall guy, thinking himself wouldn't be good enough for you.
Pushing those thoughts away, Peter still wanted to follow his plan and bought you a glass necklace of your favorite flower, which he was planning to give you on top of the Eiffel Tower when he confessed his feelings for you and then hopefully have his first kiss with you.
But fuck, Nick Fury had kidnapped his classmates and taken them to Prague so now he couldn't do that anymore. And not to mention how Brad was trying to get back with you, even though you had broken up almost a year ago.
He had a plan, and it didn't work.
Which brings us to Peter anxiously pacing back and forth in his fancy room, running a hand through his already messy hair every few minutes as he struggled to calm himself down.
"What am I going to do" He mumbled to himself, starting between the little box that contained the necklace and the black suit Fury had gave him on top of the bed.
Peter was about to have an existential crisis, because it doesn't matter how selfish he sounded at the moment, he didn't want to fight some monster in his vacations, he just wanted to be with you. And that was practically impossible, considering he had to confront a the fire elemental that night which meant Brad would try to get close to you.
He was startled when he heard an almost inaudible knock on his door, stopping his pacing to half open the door as to not reveal his suit on the bed, and was surprised when he found you on the other side of the door.
You nervously stood outside Peter's room, you noticed how he had been acting weird and paranoid the whole trip, and you were honestly concerned about his wellbeing. Not to mention, you haven't spent much time together and you were starting to miss him.
"Oh ... hi Y/n" Peter nervously greeted you, trying to act casual by leaning on the side of the  door. "What brings you here?" He curiously asked, as he was genuinely not expecting you out of all people to look for him.
"I ... can I come in?" You slowly asked, preparing yourself to hear the rejection from him, when his eyes widened in what seemed to be ... excitement?
"Yeah s-sure" He immediately agreed, clearing his throat when he realized he sounded way too eager. "Just uhm, wait a second" He said before closing the door.
You were taken aback by the sudden move, unbeknownst to Peter behind the door webbing the suit and quickly hiding it behind the room's closet. He also webbed the box with the necklace and hid it in one of the drawers.
He opened the door again and moved to the side to let you in, and you took a deep breath as you walked inside his room. You awkwardly stood in front of each other after he softly closed the door behind him.
"I just ... I wanted to know if you were okay" You started, not being able to look into his eyes so you decided to look at your fidgeting hands instead. "You seem pretty stressed lately, and I wanted to remind you that I'm here if you need to talk to someone"
Peter was surprised again, never in a million years he would've thought you, his Y/n, would actually care so much about him. But of course you did, you had been in love with the boy ever since he came back from the blip.
Your sweet worried voice managed to calm him down a bit, but he took a deep breath as he couldn't exactly confess to you why he was stressed.
"Well I ... I just got mad because we didn't get to visit the Eiffel Tower" He shrugged his shoulders not exactly lying, as that was one of the reasons he was acting like that.
"Oh" You replied, sighing when you realized he wasn't telling you the whole story.
I mean what were you thinking? That he was going to open up to you just like that? You looked to the floor disappointed, realizing it was a bad idea coming to his room.
"Actually no, that's not the exact reason" He abruptly said when he noticed your sad expression.
Screw his plan.
"The thing is I like you, I like you so much it literally hurts right now because I can't do anything about it" Peter began ranting, pacing back and forth again, unable to meet your eyes while he confessed his feelings. "And I had this plan, this ... this stupid plan to take you to the Eiffel Tower to confess my feelings for you. But things didn't work out like I wanted them and know you're getting closer to Brad and I'll have no chance with you, I never really did, because look at him and then look at me! And to think I hoped you to like me back and then kiss you–"
"Peter stop!" You yelled to interrupt him, he finally stopped in his tracks looking wide-eyed at you.
He suddenly realized all of the things he said to you and covered his mouth regretting everything, but before he could say anything you walked closer to him until you were a few inches apart.
"Peter of course you're not like Brad, you're so different from him" You softly began, he just took a deep breath and looked to the floor with his head hanging low. "But that's why I like you too" You admitted as he quickly raised his head and met your eyes.
"You ... you do?" He couldn't contain the big smile growing in his face when he asked, to which you smiled back nodding.
"So why don't you kiss me now, that you know I feel the same way" You whispered leaning closer to his lips, moving your hands to meet his and intertwine your fingers.
Peter's eyes were literally shining, and his heart started beating faster for having you so close to him. He started leaning in too, so you closed your eyes yearning the feeling of his lips on top of yours, when he suddenly yanked his body back and your hands fell back to your side.
You frowned as you opened your eyes, noticing how he turned his back to you, inhaling deeply.
"Peter?" You gently called to him, resting a hand on his shoulders, but not even a second passed when he abruptly turned around, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Ihaveneverkissedanyonebefore" He hurriedly said, but you didn't understand a word. Peter noticed your confusion, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. "I have never kissed anyone before, like ever so I ... I don't know what to do" He embarrassingly confessed, blushing immediately.
You brought a hand to your mouth to cover a laugh that escaped your lips, and Peter just blushed even more.
"God, I shouldn't have said anything" Peter sighed, covering his face with both hands in regret. You softly laughed once more before gently uncovering his red face.
"Peter do you seriously think I care about that?" You playfully asked.
"But you laughed!" He whined, and you couldn't help but laugh once again. "See! you think it's ridiculous"
"I laughed because you're so adorable" You admitted and he hung his head back, sighing. "Peter it's not ridiculous, and if you care about it that much I can teach you" You offered shrugging your shoulders.
Peter looked back at you with different emotions on his face. Confusion ... excitement ... eagerness?
"Wouldn't that be ... weird?" He innocently asked.
"I don't know, you tell me" You lowered your tone as you walked closer to him, until you were just inches apart from his lips for the second time of the night. "I will forget about it if you don't want to" You whispered looking straight into his eyes.
"No! I mean y-yes I want to, please teach me" He nervously agreed, continuously nodding his head.
Alright, Peter Parker was definitely the most adorable human being on earth.
"Okay, but first you need to relax" You said, walking behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders to gently massage them. "You're so tense Pete"
"Uhum" He could only mumble closing his eyes, your hands were doing magic on his tense body.
He was enjoying it to much that he almost complained when your hands left his shoulders, he opened his eyes to find you in front of him again.
"Now you can place your hands here" You instructed, guiding his hands with yours to rest on your waist. "And I will place mine here" You lifted one your arms to the back of his head and began playing gently with his messy hair, while you laid the other hand flat on his face to caress his cheek. "Is this okay?" You asked, making sure he was comfortable with it.
Peter only nodded, he was too intoxicated with your sweet scent and excited by your actions that he was afraid if he spoke a single word his voice would be way too high pitched.
"I think we can start with a few soft pecks and work our way from there" You began, looking straight into his wide eyes.
Let's not deceive ourselves here, even though you were the one leading the way here, that didn't take your nervousness away. I mean, you were teaching your crush how to kiss, the closeness to his body was making your knees weak.
"So we just close our eyes" You instructed, smiling when Peter eagerly shut his eyes. "And I'll lean closer and closer until we meet our lips" You whispered doing as you said.
You softly landed your lips on his, lightly pecking them before retrieving back, when Peter leaned forward to peck your lips again, surprising you with his sudden move.
"I'm s-sorry, I wanted to try it again" Peter excused himself blushing.
"You don't need to apologize Pete, you can do it as many times you wan–" Peter interrupted kissing you again, and you laughed at his eagerness.
"God, I-like-you-so-much" Peter admitted admitted between light pecks, and you blushed this time.
"I like you too Peter, and I think we can move on to the next step so you can kiss me properly" You smirked and he nodded, now confidently tightening the grip on your waist.
"So now we're going to interlock our lips" You said, leaning your head a little to one side, and gently pushing Peter's to the other. "You're just gonna lightly part your lips, and I'll grab your bottom lip like this" You explained before crashing your lips on Peter's once again, this time locking your lips together.
You decided that instead of telling him what to do you would show him, so you began slowly moving your lips, to which Peter involuntarily moaned into the kiss, making you gently pull a strand of his hair. Peter followed your lead and began moving his lips too, almost immediately synchronizing with you.
It wasn't the most experienced kiss, your noses crashing a few times making you laugh into the kiss, but for someone who hadn't kiss anyone before, Peter was actually good at it. So yes, it was not the most experienced kiss, but it was perfect for you.
Peter honestly didn't know if he was doing it right but his lips kept moving along with yours, as if they somehow belonged together. He was enjoying it more than he thought he would that he never wanted to leave your lips, but his lungs begged for oxygen and he was forced to separate from you.
"I ... wow" You mumbled recovering your breath. "That was amazing Peter" You admitted looking admiringly at him.
"To be honest I was winging it the whole time" His nervous laugh was followed by yours.
"No but seriously, whatever you did do it again" You confidently ordered, and he immediately complied.
Your mouths crashed back together, and he seemed to be more confident now, leaving the grip on your waist to grab your face and deepen the kiss. You smirked and decided to play with him, slipping your tongue in the kiss. Peter was taken a back by the action, way to delighted by the way your tongue played with his.
You were driving him crazy.
In that moment Peter forgot about all of his problems and responsibilities and decided to focus only on you, because even though his plan failed, this outcome was so much better. You got lost into the kiss as well, and you began walking forward until Peter's legs hit the bed. He automatically sat down grabbing you by the waist, never separating from the kiss, this way you ended up sitting on his lap.
Your desperate hands stopped playing with his hair, as you brought them to his torso and slipped them under his shirt, feeling his surprisingly hard abdomen. You decided to break the kiss, to which he winced already missing your lips, but suddenly realized you had other plans for them.
He couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips when you focused on trailing wet kisses down his neck, his arms' hairs flying up from the unfamiliar pleasure.
"Umm yes Y/n, don't stop" The boy helplessly begged, and you smirked lightly nibbling his skin.
"I can - teach you - how to kiss - my neck too" You breathlessly said in between kisses, imitating his action from before. "You just ... do this" You began kissing his neck more intensely, sucking on his skin this time, making sure to leave some lovely marks.
"Fuck Y/n" Peter couldn't help but groan every time your lips touched his skin, a new side of him was awaken, as he felt his pants tighten around his crotch.
You separated from him a little and hung your head backwards to give him access to your neck, to which he immediately began leaving kisses on it. He ran his hands through your back as he worked his way on you, and boy he was doing a great job.
"That feels so good Peter, oh–" You moaned when he sucked right on your sweet spot, his ears delighted by the beautiful sounds you made.
You both continued making out, switching from neck kisses to french kisses, moaning into each other's mouths as you gave in your love.
When you woke up this morning you never thought you would be straddling your crush's lap in his hotel room, and to be honest you didn't even know how you ended up in this position, but you were so grateful.
Your thoughts and making out session were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Mr.Harrington's voice came from behind it.
"Peter, we're leaving to the opera now let's go!" He cheerfully announced, unbeknownst to the situation on the other side of the door.
"Yeah I ... I'll be right outside in a minute" Peter replied, trying to make his out of breath voice sound clear.
"Okay, we'll meet in the lobby" The teacher said before finally leaving.
You both stared at each other with wide eyes and blushed cheeks, realizing how everything had escalated so quickly. You cleared your throat as you got up from his lap, and stood awkwardly in front of him. Peter cleared his throat too, running a hand through his hair attempting to tame it, an inhaled deeply before speaking.
"That was ... really good" He admitted and you both smiled. "But I ... I think we should have a date now, right?"
"Are you inviting me on a date Parker?" You innocently asked biting your lip.
"Yeah, let's go on a date" He confidently said and you nodded, walking towards him to softly peck his lips.
"Alright, see you at the lobby then" You winked at him and turned around to leave the room.
Once you closed the door and were out of his vision range, you let out a silent squeal of happiness, this had been the best thing that happened on the trip so far. You happily made your way towards your room to get a better outfit to have your date with Peter, one that included a scarf to cover your fresh hickies.
Peter stood for a moment in the middle of his room, astonished by what just happened, replaying the scene over and over again in his head. Peter had planned to have his first kiss with you, not a full on make out session, so now he couldn't shake the stupid smile from his face.
He suddenly remembered the whole fire elemental situation and mentally slapped himself, he was not going to be able to have his date with you now. He sighed deeply as he got the suit out the closet, where he had previously thrown it before you came in.
He stared at the black suit in his hands, he had previously tried it on and it was already a little tight around his ol' web-shooter, and now after that hot make out session with you, it'll definitely be way too tight around it.
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marvelouspeterparker · 7 months ago
just can’t get enough
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pairing: fwb!tom holland x reader
summary: you and tom have been doing this friends with benefits thing for a while now, repressing your feelings, playing this twisted, toxic, jealousy fueled game. but when will you both just accept the truth and be honest with each other?
request: tom tying you up and edging you because you were flirting with other guys and then after he make you come until you can't take it anymore–– by anonymous
word count: 10.3k
warnings: smut, spanking, overstimulation
notes: i got the idea to make this a friends with benefits story then i started writing this and two sentences in, i knew i wanted to make it a full fic dfhskjh + so there’s more than just smut in this + the title is inspired by the song by the black eyes peas 
You and Tom weren’t exclusive, you weren’t even really together. But that doesn’t mean you guys didn’t get jealous. The both of you got really jealous. You liked bringing it out of each other––it was the only emotion you weren’t afraid to show to each other. 
Your relationship, or lack thereof, was complicated and most likely the textbook definition of toxic and immature. You and Tom were definitely into each other, in a loving type way, you just didn’t know the other felt the same. Typical. Even though you would ask each other to stay over after hooking up. Even though you would hold each other after every night you spent together. Even though you looked at each other as if you were the other’s world. You had no idea. 
Part of you wanted to deny your feelings. This was Tom. He could have anyone he wanted, it wasn’t safe to get attached.  Your feelings for him were borderline scary because of how strong they were––and you weren’t even sure he felt the same way about you which only added more issues into the mix. He thought the same things about you, but you of course, didn’t know that. 
So your go-to response to each other was to deny, deny, deny. Even though it hurt you. It was safer.
Although you didn’t show each other your true feelings, you liked to get a rise out of each other. And you’d like to say it’s because of the sex it leads to––but deep down, you know that’s not true. You like to feel wanted the way that you want him. You like to see him angry on your behalf, to see him upset because of the way some other guy is looking at you, kissing you, holding you. Just like he loves to see you annoyed every time he has a girl attached to his hip at a party, her teeth leaving marks on his neck the way you like to, the way only you should be able to. 
The music was blaring through the speakers when you walked in with your friend Mia, the both of you were ready to get fucked up and have fun. You quickly made your way to the kitchen to get some drinks, eagerly sipping from your red solo cups as you started to sway lightly to the music. The house was packed, sweaty, drunk bodies everywhere, shouting and dancing on each other. The couches were filled with people, passed out and making out, either or. 
Just as you finished your cup, you felt a pair of eyes practically burning through your body. You turned and immediately caught his eyes, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face as he barely listened to Harrison and Harry having what seemed to be an intense conversation––but knowing them it was probably just banter. 
You and Tom were friends, since it is in the title of what you guys supposedly are––friends with benefits. But were the benefits supposed to come with mixed feelings and overwhelming amounts of repressed emotions?––So far, that’s unclear. But you and Tom and Harrison and the whole bunch were all friends. You and Tom were always a little bit closer than you were with the others, but not by an obscene amount. This whole arrangement between the two of you had started by accident, basically. You slept together one night after a party, you were both only a little tipsy so it wasn’t a mistake––and then again after he spent the night at your place for one of your usual sleepovers, and then it just kept happening. 
But along with this intimate cycle came this push and pull you and Tom would do with each other. It seemed that every time you got closer, you would end up taking a thousand steps back away from each other afterwards. It was tiring, but you never let it show. 
You saw Tom walking towards you, a glint in his eyes. But right when he was about ten feet away from you and you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, he swerved to the side, his eyes lingering on you while he talked to some other girl. You felt your heart drop to your stomach but you swallowed and picked it right back up, not letting his antics get to you. This was what happened every time. It was a game. But neither of you seemed to ever win. 
You filled your cup again with something a little stronger and gulped it down, wincing as it burned it’s way down your throat. 
“You okay?” Mia asked, looking at you slightly concerned. “That was a pretty aggressive swallow.” She joked.
You shook your head, “I’m fine.” You turned to her and plastered a smile on your face, ignoring the stares of the brunet who was only a few feet away from you, a blonde girl’s hand on his shoulder, sliding it’s way up to his neck. “Let’s dance.” 
You marched your way into the scattered group of people in the living room, finding a nice spot for you and your friend. You easily got comfortable, having danced with Mia many times before. She stepped behind you, swaying as you grinded on her, losing yourself in the music. Soon you were sweaty just like the rest of the people in this party and you could feel Tom sending glances your way every now and then, despite the girl trying to climb him. You were dancing seductively but freely, only barely paying attention to the other people in the room. Sure, you were hoping that Tom was watching, but you were also dancing for yourself. You just wanted to have fun.
You managed to dance for about two songs until someone came up to you. He was attractive, a little taller than Tom, dark brown hair, and what seemed to be hazel eyes in the dark lighting of the room. He seemed nice enough. He approached you with a sincere smile on his face. “I don’t mean to bother you. I just couldn’t help but notice you and I’ve been watching you for a bit––in a totally non-creepy way.” He prefaced, making you laugh. He was cute. “Do you wanna dance, maybe?” He held his hand out. “If not, I totally understand.”
You paused for a moment, looking at him. You weren’t going to mess around with someone if they seemed like a total dick––but he seemed genuine. You turned your head to check with Mia to find that she was already walking off with some girl. She gave you a thumbs up and a wink and you laughed, looking back at the boy. 
“Okay,” you smiled. “Let’s dance.” 
He smiled and you took his hand and pulled him behind you, continuing the dance you were doing before with Mia, grinding on him lightly. He placed his hands on your waist, his fingertips digging into you softly. This next song was more sensual and you couldn’t help but feel yourself a little bit. You knew you looked good. You turned your head over your shoulder to get the boy’s attention. “I should probably know your name since we skipped the formalities and went straight to third base.” 
He laughed, his hands still on your waist. “Liam. And you?”
“Y/N.” You lifted one of his hands and shook it, making him chuckle and step closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.
“You’re cute.” 
You smiled, “I know. So are you.” You took his hands and brought them up to your breasts, making him squeeze them just as you looked straight ahead and made eye contact with Tom. His jaw was clenched as he squeezed the girl’s ass, her lips marking him up. You smirked and tipped your head back, biting your lip. You could feel yourself getting turned on, from the dancing, from Liam, from Tom.
He looked mad and it was only spurring you on even more. He practically snarled before grabbing the girl’s hair and pulling her head back. You could see her moan even from several feet away. He looked at you as he licked along her bare neck, his eyes teasing and taunting you. He knew you would rather it was him standing behind you, holding you, feeling you-–just like you knew he would rather you be the one moaning in his ear. He bit the blonde’s neck and grabbed her ass roughly, pulling her into him as he marked her up. 
You were in a room full of people, but when you looked at each other, it felt as though the whole room went dark, a spotlight on the two of you, your shadows behind you hiding all your hidden truths about how you felt for one another. The both of you were just waiting to see who would snap first. Last time it was you, and the time before that it was him. You were determined for it not to be you this time. 
You brought a hand up and slid it along Liam’s neck, making your way to his hair before tugging it softly and bringing him down to kiss your neck. You tilted your head and he eagerly took the hint, kissing and sucking softly. His touch was more gentle and more hesitant than Tom’s, you couldn’t help but compare the two––not when Tom was staring you down. 
You turned your head and pulled Liam up, looking at his lips then back up to his eyes, grinning when you saw his gaze was focused on your mouth. You pulled him close and crashed your lips together, leading the kiss. It was bold for a first kiss, and you hoped he didn’t mind, but by the way he was grabbing you and pressing into you, you figured he was fine with it.
By the time the song was over, your mind was far from Tom. You were facing Liam, your hands around his neck as he grabbed your thigh, pressing himself into you as you made out. When he pulled away from you, you looked up, confused as to why he stopped. You saw another boy talking to him. He let your leg down gently and you let your hands slip down to his chest.  
“We gotta go man, the uber’s here. We said we’d be back by…” he checked his phone. “Two hours ago.” 
“Shit, alright.” Liam looked at you then back to his friend, “I’ll meet you outside.” He turned to you, apologetic. “Looks like our time is up.” 
You smiled a little sadly and let your hands fall to your sides. Sure, he wasn’t Tom. But he was alright, you liked him as a person. “Seems like it.” 
He sighed, seemingly thinking about something. After a moment he spoke up. “Can I get your number?” 
You looked up at him. “You know what? Sure.” He smiled and handed you his phone. After putting your information in, you handed him back his phone.
He held it up. “I will be sure to use this.” You smiled and he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek before leaning to whisper in your ear. “See you soon hopefully, Y/N.” 
He walked away, still facing you and you laughed when he bumped into someone, almost falling and looking back at you, embarrassed. He waved and was soon on his way. You found yourself smiling absentmindedly at the door he’d just exited and were soon snapped out of your daze when you heard a familiar voice behind you. 
“Your date ditch you?”
You turned to face him but your smile soon dropped when you noticed he wasn’t alone. The girl was still on his arm, smiling up at him, clearly wanting all of his attention. 
“No.” You said as a matter of factly. “I actually got his number.” You couldn’t help but smile when you noticed his eye twitch. “He just had to go home or something.” 
“Hmm that’s a shame.” He licked his lips, shamelessly checking you out. 
You easily forgot where you were with the way he was looking at you until a voice pierced through your bubble. 
“Can we go find a room? Please Tommy?”
You noticed Tom wince and look over at you when he heard the nickname and you couldn’t help but grimace. That was your name for him. You were the only one who called him that. 
He swallowed awkwardly and turned to her. “Babe.” He lowered his head to look at her, talking to her like a child and you scoffed. “You’re this close to being plastered. You need to find your friends and go home.” 
She pouted like a child throwing a tantrum. “But you said you––were gonna fuck me.” 
Your brows raised and he looked at her, confused. “What? No I didn’t––”
She nodded her head, “Uh huh, you said–––” She mimicked a posh british accent. “M’gonna fuck you so hard, love.”
He cursed silently when he realized he’d said that out loud when he was watching you grind on that boy. “That––That wasn’t,” he looked over at you and you smirked, crossing your arms. “You were just hearing things.” He spotted one of the girls she came with and pushed her towards her. “There you go, run off now.” 
You laughed but it quickly died off when he turned back to you, his eyes dark. You bit your lip and his hand came up to hold your jaw, his thumb running over your lips. You parted your lips and took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him as you would his cock and he groaned, “Fuck, love.” You bobbed your head and popped off of him, biting the tip of his finger gently and winking at him. 
He slid his hand down to grasp your neck and tilted your head up, leaning in closer to you, his lips barely grazing yours. “My place or yours?” 
You had a feeling Mia would be coming home tonight with that girl. And the girls she brought home were never quiet, not with her. “Yours.” 
He nodded and took your hand in his, pulling out his phone as you both walked out of the house. “Uber should be here in two minutes.” 
You raised a brow and he could practically hear you watching him quizzically. He looked up at you and you asked, “Was that uber for the blonde?”
He rolled his eyes. “Called it as soon as I saw that bloke leave.” 
You smirked. “How ambitious of you.”
He stepped closer to you, “Love don’t act like you don’t say yes to me every time. I always have you begging for my cock and we both know it.”
Your jaw dropped but before you could even think of a response, he walked forward, pulling you along. “Let’s go.” 
When you both got settled in the car, you greeted the driver and Tom subtly pulled you closer to him. He placed one of your legs over his, his hand rubbing along the inside of it teasingly soft as he made small talk with the driver, because, ever the charmer, he had to talk to everyone. 
You looked out the window, tuning out their conversation as you focused on the lights outside as the car drove by. You were honestly so out of it, you almost jolted when you felt Tom’s hand slide under your skirt to graze your panties. 
You turned to him in shock, and he simply smiled, still talking to the driver. Were they talking about golf? You grabbed his hand and he turned his head, looking at you with a look that said don’t test me. You let him go and he rubbed you through the fabric, pleased to see how wet you were. But when he remembered what you’d been doing all night, his face quickly formed a grimace. 
“Who’s this for, baby?” he licked his lips, whispering to you as the driver went on. “Me? Or that div you were grinding on for show? Hm?”
He was jealous. Good. 
You shrugged, enjoying the dark look that overtook his features. “What if I said both?” 
He leaned in to whisper in your ear, his lips grazing your skin. “Then I’d say that’s the wrong fucking answer, love.” 
You shivered from the tone of his voice and when he pulled away, the smirk on his face was anything but sweet. He slipped his hands into your panties, audibly gasping to himself when he felt how wet you really were. He wasted no time, rubbing your wetness over your clit and you gasped, letting out a whine louder than you would have hoped to. Luckily he spoke over you, but he pinched the bundle of nerves, silently scolding you and you whimpered quietly, leaning into his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed his cheek to your forehead, making it seem as though you were simply cuddling in the backseat. If you weren’t distracted, you would have thought about how nice it felt to be in his arms like this, but then again, you had other things on your mind.
He rolled his fingers over your clit, kissing your forehead when you let out a shaky breath. He slipped his fingers inside of you and you arched into his touch, rolling your hips to fuck his hand. “Such a needy little slut.” He whispered to you, only making you roll your hips harder. He let out a small fuck and tried his best to focus on his conversation with the lovely man who was driving you both home, but the way you were breathing heavily into his neck as you grinded onto his fingers was making it hard for him to even breathe properly. 
He sped his hands up as best he could in this awkward and compromising position, pressing his thumb down to your clit, making you sigh as you bit into his neck, quickly approaching your high. 
“You gonna cum all over my hand, baby?” He whispered into your hair. You nodded desperately, but your heart dropped when he chuckled. “Funny how I didn’t give you permission to.” You lifted your head and looked up at him, begging him not stop to but he simply stared you down and pulled his hand away from you and out of your panties, making you almost buck forward from the loss of stimulation. 
Your eyes were wide and hopeful and he simply kissed your cheek, bringing his hand up to his mouth to suck on his fingers. Luckily for him, his conversation with the driver had died off gradually, so he was free to tease you as much as he wanted. “Fucking delicious.” He licked his lips, “You want a taste?” You nodded, already leaning into him, but he brought a hand up to your hair and tugged your head backwards, exposing your neck. “That’s too fucking bad. You don’t deserve to taste my pussy yet.” He leaned forward and kissed your neck possessively, somehow picking the spots that were already sensitive. You soon realized he was covering the marks that Liam had made and making them his own. 
He spent a good while marking you up, only pulling away when the car came to a stop. Realizing you’d made it to his place, you both thanked the driver and got out, quickly making your way into the flat. 
It wasn’t long before the two of you were stripped naked, Tom on top of you as he kissed you possessively as if someone were watching. His tongue was tasting yours, sucking and licking it’s way into your mouth, making you lose your breath. He pulled away and grinned when you whined, helplessly trying to pull him back, biting your lip sensually. 
He got off of the bed and pulled out the box from underneath and your breath hitched, knowing exactly what was in there from all the times you’d spent over at his place. He pulled out the padded handcuffs and the trusty vibrator he’d used on you and watched you use many times, setting them on the bed as he closed the box and shoved it back to it’s spot. 
He looked at you steadily, “You up for this?” When you nodded he smiled. “That’s my girl.” Though you knew he most likely meant it sexually, you couldn’t help how flustered it made you feel. And was it just your mind playing tricks on you or did it seem more sincere when he said it this time?
You put your hands in front of you and he put on the restraints, raising your hands above your head, attaching the cuffs to the bedframe and settling down between your thighs. He ran his hands up and down your torso, his fingers lightly grazing your nipples and your breasts, down your stomach and then back up again, making you squirm in anticipation. 
He pressed a lasting wet kiss to your lips and trailed his lips down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as his fingers tugged and teased the other. Your back arched under his touch but he was quick to pin you back down, smiling as he continued to tease you. 
He slid further down the bed, grabbing your breasts then spreading your thighs wider as he settled between them, finally seeing the mess he’d helped make. Without saying a word, he watched the way your walls clenched around nothing, clearly aching to be filled. He spread you open and buried himself in you, your moans and gasps only spurring him on even more. He could tell you were still sensitive from earlier, your pussy practically pulsing under his tongue. 
He licked through your folds, sliding his tongue in and out of you teasingly as he properly made out with your pussy, moaning and groaning into you, enjoying himself in the pleasure he was giving you, as he thrusted his hips into the bed absentmindedly. It wasn’t long before your hips started bucking into his face and he had to press them down with his hands.
Your wrists strained against the restraints as you buried your face into your arm, your brows furrowed, your lip caught between your teeth.
“So close, Tom.”
He hummed and sucked your clit harshly, waiting until whines started spilling from your lips, your tell that you were about to tip over the edge, to pull away completely.
You let out a broken no and looked down at him, a pout on your face. 
“That’s what you get for teasing me all night.” Yeah, he was being hypocritical, but as we established before––toxic. “Grinding up on that idiot right in front of me.” 
You lifted your head to try and look at him properly. “His name is Liam.” 
Based on the look on his face from your response you could tell––that was the wrong answer. 
“You see darling,” He thrusted his fingers into you abruptly, making you drop your head back and moan loudly in surprise. “Look at me.” His voice was sharp and you lifted your head immediately, your walls clenching around him from the tone of his voice. “I don’t give a fuck what his name is. All I know is that I’m going to have you screaming my name until it’s the only bloody one you know.” Your mouth was open as you looked at him, clearly turned on and in utter shock. “Got it?” You nodded almost mindlessly and he clenched his jaw, taking his fingers out to slap your pussy, making you whine and buck your hips. “Got it?” 
“Yes, Tommy.” 
“Good.” He slid his fingers back into you and leaned forward to suck on your clit. “Now moan for me like a good little slut.” 
He put his mouth back on you, licking and slurping you up like you were his last meal, pulling a gasp from you. One of his hands was holding your hips down, fingers splayed out across your abdomen, the other thrusting into your wet opening, while his mouth lapped and sucked your clit. 
You felt like you could barely breathe or even process anything but his touch as he pleased you. He edged you three more times, each time, your whines becoming higher pitched, longer and breathier. Your whole body felt like it was floating, every time you were dragged away from the edge before you could tip over it, it felt as though you were being pulled down from the air, roughly, just for the cycle to restart all over again. 
Tom licked his lips as he watched you, your body completely spent as you lied there, panting, desperate to cum. He swiped his fingers through your folds before bringing them up to your lips. “Think you’ve earned it.” You opened up eagerly and his eyes were hypnotized as he watched you, his lips parted. “How’s my pussy taste, darling, hm?” 
Your eyes fluttered shut from his words and you moaned around him, making him smirk. He pulled his fingers almost all the way out before thrusting them back into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him and sucking him eagerly. He took his fingers out of your mouth and passed them over your lips, smearing your spit over them. 
“Such a messy little thing, aren’t you? All for me.” 
You nodded, your throat croaky. “Only you.” 
He hummed. “You wanna cum now baby?” 
You looked down at him, your eyes pleading. “Please Tommy. Wanna cum for you.”
“Yeah?” he cooed. You nodded as fast as you could, tired from all the edging. “Okay love. You can cum.” 
He wrapped his lips around your clit again, sucking just the way you liked as his fingers pressed against that special spot inside you. Your body lurched forward as best it could, your mouth dropping open as your eyes rolled back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck––” 
Tom’s eyes were focused on your body, one hand coming up to play with your nipples and squeeze your breasts making you moan loudly as your body convulsed under him. “That’s it. Let go for me, darling.” He kept sucking on your clit and thrusting his fingers into you as you came, your body tense as your breaths came out short and hard. 
“Oh my god––” You gasped when he didn’t stop, his lips and his fingers still going after you reached your high, going even faster than before. He was humming into you, his movements frantic but calculated as he pushed you further. Your eyes rolled back as you came for the second time, still sensitive from your first orgasm. 
When he sat up on his knees, you thought he was finally done, but you were sadly mistaken. He simply got into a more comfortable position, licking his lips clean to savor your taste as he brought his hand down to rub at your clit quickly, his other hand still furiously fingering you. Your eyes were wide, mouth hung open in shock, overwhelmed by the stimulation. Soon, you felt yourself approaching the edge again, but this time felt more intense, almost like you needed to––
“Fuck––” Tom groaned in awe as you squirted all over his hands, his fingers still going at it, trying to prolong the feeling for you and maybe even make you do it again. He was mesmerized by you. Your hands were restlessly pulling at the cuffs, your body trembling and shaking as you came, overstimulated. Tom pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed over your pussy quickly, making you let out a mix between a moan and a yell. He switched from thrusting his fingers into you roughly, to rubbing your clit, slapping it quickly as you kept squirting all over him. “So fucking wet, oh my god.”
Your eyes were shut as you panted, your head turned to the side, tucked into your arm, your stomach flexing and tensing every few seconds as Tom tortured you. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you heard your toy switch on and without warning he pressed it on to your sensitive clit, making you scream. 
As he promised, you were screaming his name, your body shaking under him as he slid himself inside of you, the vibe still on. He was thrusting into you fast and hard, moaning and growling obscenities like ‘my fucking pussy’, ‘that’s it take that cock just the way you like,’ which only made your head spin even more. You were barely able to function, only saying his name over and over again while he used you like a toy. 
With all the time he spent playing with you, teasing you, edging you, making you cum––which he was still doing, he was super sensitive, so it didn’t take long for him to get close. “That’s it baby. M’gonna cum in my fucking pussy and you’re gonna clench around me while you cum one more time, okay?” 
You whined loudly, your head thrashing from side to side as he held your thigh, fucking into you roughly while he pressed the toy to your clit, putting it at the highest setting. “Tom!––”
“Be a good girl and cum on my cock. I know you can, that’s it. Gonna cum in this perfect pussy. Fuck.” He grunted as he released into you, your walls clenching around him tightly as you came again, your eyes shut tight as you trembled around him. 
He switched the toy off and threw it aside, thrusting into you a few times slowly to see your releases mixed together on his cock. He bottomed out, filling you to the hilt and you whimpered, your legs still shaking. He leaned down and kissed your cheek, reaching up and undoing the straps of the restraints. You sighed softly and let your hands fall down to his shoulders, barely able to move them yourself. 
He looked down at you, fondness in his eyes. “How was that, darling?” You simply mumbled a few sounds in response, the only intelligible word being his name. He smirked, kissing your forehead. “That’s what I thought.”
You both stayed like that for a while, you tucked into Tom’s chest while you caught your breaths, his cock still inside of you. After a while, he pulled out, earning a whimper from you and got up to get a towel to clean you up, since you definitely couldn’t walk on your own. You’d just wait to see how you felt in the morning. 
When he finished cleaning you up and settled under the covers with you after giving you one of his shirts, he pulled you back into his arms and you sighed happily, nuzzling into him. His hand was tracing patterns on your side, lulling you to sleep as you listened to his heartbeat. 
“You know,” he whispered. You hummed quietly in response. “I really liked tonight. With you.” He winced, realizing that sounded stupid but he held his breath when you responded softly.
“Mm I did too. Always do Tommy.” You were practically mumbling into his shirt, you were really fucked out.
He waited a few moments before speaking up again, but you had already drifted off halfway through his sentence, only hearing a faint I really like––before you fell into a deep sleep. 
When you woke up, Tom was out of bed and you could smell tea boiling in the kitchen, along with breakfast cooking. You rubbed your eyes with your knuckles, squinting from the sunlight that was peeking into the room. You sighed and sat up, raising your arms for a much needed stretch. You then reached for your phone that you’re guessing Tom must have put to charge sometime last night or this morning since it was at 100%. 
You grabbed it and tried to stand up, yelping at how sore and wobbly your legs felt. Tom walked in just in time and laughed, rushing over to your side, “Woah love. You alright?” You let out small mhm signalling that you really weren’t alright. You couldn’t walk properly for Christ’s sake. “I really fucked you good didn’t I?” He smirked smugly and you rolled your eyes.
“Yeah yeah. To the bathroom please.” He nodded and helped you along, his hands delicately holding you. 
“Do you need me to set you down on the toilet too?”
You turned to him about to scowl, when you noticed the sincere look in his eyes. Oh. “Um––No I’m okay.” You turned to hold the door. “But um, can you wait until I’m finished.” You looked up at him sheepishly and smiled.
“Sure. I’ll just wait on the bed okay?” 
You nodded and closed the door. 
You peed, brushed your teeth and washed your face, refusing to look at your disapproving reflection in the mirror. Yeah, this was a little fucked up that you slept with your best friend all the time and basically acted like a couple until you stepped out in public––but what else is new. Well for one, Tom had never been that intense before––he was really determined, possessive last night. Was it because you got Liam’s number? 
You guess it was an unspoken but unofficial thing between the two of you, but you never went past making out with other people, let alone getting their numbers and hanging out with them afterwards. Should you feel guilty? No, if he wanted to say something and tell you how he feels, he would, right? Funny.
You sighed and waddled over to the door before opening it and Tom perked up immediately, eyes finding you. You walked out of the bathroom and he watched you take a few steps, a small pout on his face. “You know I think I can walk better now.” 
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” 
You frowned. “Does it look that bad?”
He looked up at you, a cheeky but hesitant smile on his face. “No I just want an excuse to hold you while you walk.” 
You rolled your eyes but let him hold you anyway as you made your way over to the kitchen. He helped you sit at the counter and went to the stove to continue preparing breakfast. 
You crossed your legs at the ankle and sat up, fiddling with your phone in your hands as you remembered last night just before you fell asleep. It sounded like he was confessing something to you and you couldn’t help but be hopeful. It sounded like the next word in his sentence started with a Y and you wanted to clarify, to assure what you heard, to soothe your heart. 
“I um.” He turned, when you paused, looking at you curiously, a small smile on his face. “Before I fell asleep last night,” You noticed his eyes widened slightly but he quickly tried to mask it. “I think I heard you say something?”
He just looked at you, mouth closed, biting the inside of his cheek. 
“I think I heard you say you really like...and then I passed out.” You laughed quietly to ease the tension, “Um, what––what did you say?” 
He took a moment before biting his lip, obviously nervous, looking down at the floor. “Uh nope––Sorry I uh don’t think I said anything.” 
Your shoulders drooped. “Are you sure?” You pressed, not even hiding the disappointment in your tone. 
He laughed awkwardly, turning to put sugar in his tea. “Nope I uh––Didn’t say anything. Must be hearing things.” 
You nodded tightly, pursing your lips. “Right.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your notifications to distract yourself from the metaphorical sharp pain in your chest, seeing the dms from your friends on insta, twitter notifications, random game updates, but your eyes paused when you noticed a message from an unknown number.
Hey :) told you I’d put your number to good use
You smiled.
Maybe: Liam: It’s Liam, by the way. From the party. 
You laughed at how awkwardly cute he was and sent a reply. Not even two seconds later, you saw the three chat bubbles appear. 
Tom perked up from the other side of the counter, thankful for a topic change and came up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you tight. “What’s so fun––” His brows furrowed as he read the text, his arms loosening their hold around you. 
You tensed and you could feel the air around you shift. You swallowed nervously, straightening yourself out in your seat. It’s not like you and Tom were dating or anything. You didn’t owe him anything. 
“It’s Liam––”
“Yeah I can read.” His tone was sharp, but unlike yesterday, it didn’t have a positive effect on you. 
You both looked at the phone when a new message appeared. 
Maybe: Liam: So I was wondering if we could get food or just chill tomorrow afternoon? I’d really like to see you :)
You took a sharp inhale, feeling butterflies in your stomach. With all the frustrations you’d been feeling and with how lackluster and clearly dishonest your last conversation was with Tom, maybe it’d be good to have a distraction. Try to move on. 
Just as you thought this, he spoke up, bursting your Tom-free bubble that you were forming. “You gonna go? On the date?” His voice was almost accusatory, offended, even. 
You sighed and he stepped away from you, looking at you in disbelief. “Yeah I think I will.” 
His jaw clenched as he stared at you. Come on, Tom. Say something, anything. He nodded and walked back to his tea, making you roll your eyes.
You called an uber and waddled off to the room, feeling his eyes watch you as you walked off. You quickly got dressed, in your own clothes and grabbed your things, not wasting a single second. When you stepped back into the kitchen, you grabbed your phone and made your way to the door. You spared a glance in Tom’s direction, noticing that he not only looked upset but hurt? 
You looked down at your phone, seeing that your ride was approaching and shook your head, “See you, Tom.” You didn’t wait to hear a response before you stepped out of the door, but you’re not certain that if you had stayed longer, you’d have gotten one anyway. 
The next afternoon, you had agreed to meet Liam at a cafe halfway between your place and his. You both also agreed that this was a casual hangout, maybe not even a date, just a time to see what happens, how you vibe together. So you dressed comfortably but nice, you weren’t going to go so far as to show up in sweats. That would be rude. 
He got there a little earlier and insisted that you tell him your order so it could be ready for you when you got there. This boy was really sweet. You met him about ten minutes later. He looked up from his phone when he noticed you walking towards his table, a smile on your face. He kissed you on the cheek after making sure it was okay and even pulled out your seat for you. 
“I’m really glad you wanted to meet up.” He seemed shy, it was cute.
“Me too.” You smiled, taking a sip from the drink he got for you. “It was nice of you to order for me by the way, thank you.”
He waved you off, “My pleasure.” 
The conversation progressed gradually, staying in the typical small talk stage for a while when you first meet someone. How was your day? Tell me about yourself. And you wanted to be present, you really did. But your mind couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong you felt to be out with someone else that wasn’t Tom. You were shifting and fidgeting as you stared at the boy in front of you, a strained smile plastered on your face as you tried to focus. 
Ever so perceptible, he noticed that something was off and looked at you concerned. “Everything alright?”
“Sorry,” You looked at him apologetically. What was wrong with you? You had a perfectly sweet boy sitting in front of you but all you could think about was Tom. “I just can’t focus today. There’s just––some things on my mind.” More like someone.
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with that brown haired guy from the party, would it?” He asked gently. 
Your eyes widened slightly. You briefly thought about denying it but wasn’t that what got you in this mess in the first place? You weren’t going to lie to him. You grimaced. “How did you know?”
“He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.” He laughed. “Which I understand. But it felt like there was some tension.” 
You nodded, swallowing, trying to process everything. 
He shrugged, “I hoped it was nothing, which I’ll admit was a bit selfish of me.” He gave you a kind smile, pausing before going on. “Were you guys together or is it complicated?” 
“Definitely that last one.” You groaned and hid your face in your palms, resting your elbows on the table in frustration. “I’m really sorry.” Your voice was muffled behind your hands. You slid your hands off of your face and looked at him, giving him another apologetic smile. “I really wanted to hangout with you and move on because you seem really sweet and like the perfect guy, honestly.” 
He waved you off again, clearly flustered, only proving your point. 
“I just don’t think it’s fair for me to try and pretend I’m fully here when you deserve nothing but honesty and someone who’s able to give you all their attention.” He nodded, disappointed but understanding. 
“Well I hope he figures his shit out because he has no idea what he’s missing.” You sighed, you and me both. 
“Thank you, Liam.” 
You both got up and hugged. He kissed your cheek again, this time as a friendly and comforting gesture. “Don’t be afraid to call me okay? As friends.” You smiled gratefully and you both went your separate ways. 
That night, there was a pounding at your door. Mia was out, so you were left to see who it was yourself. You got up and looked through the peephole to find Tom standing there. You sighed and opened the door, blinking when he stormed into your apartment without saying a word. 
His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his brows furrowed as he tried to contain his emotions and prevent an overwhelming outburst in your otherwise quiet apartment. The whole way walking over here, he could feel his stomach drop, his throat ready to hold back the bile that was threatening to come up. 
“Did you fuck him?” He spat out venomously and you glanced up at him in shock as you closed the door. Normally he’d joke about it, make a few passive comments, but he was never this direct. 
“Well hello to you too Tom. Nice to see you.”
“Answer the question.” 
“That’s actually none of your business.” You bit back, your brows furrowed. 
“Bullshit. Did you or did you not fuck him?”
“Again. None of your business. But you really think I’d do that on the first date? You must think really highly of me.” Your voice was sharp and clearly offended. He opened his mouth again but you spoke before he could. “Why does it even matter?”
He looked taken aback. “I––It just does.” 
“Why do you care, Tom?” your eyes were piercing him, begging him to say what you both wanted to. You were sick of playing the same game, hoping for a happy ever after when you kept seeing the same outcome every time. You were tired of being hurt and disappointed. So you finally just decided to give him a chance. To see if what he felt for you was the same––to see if it was real.
When you were met with silence, your eyes started to water. “Why?” Your voice was small, aching for him to put an end to all of this, to be honest for once. 
His eyes lowered to the ground and he bit his lip nervously, his arms limp by his side. When you spoke up his eyes jumped to yours, wide and scared.
“I––I can’t keep doing this.”
“What––What do you mean?” His voice was frantic and a part of you felt guilty, but you shut your eyes, frustrated with how much of an effect he had on you. 
“This, Tom.” You gestured between the two of you. “Whatever the fuck this is. We––We’ve never even talked about it! We just fuck with each other and then fuck each other like everything’s okay but it’s not! I’m tired of it!” 
He reached a hand out but you took a step back and he dropped it back to his side. 
“Unless you have something worthwhile to say, just go.” Your voice was small, tired as you looked down at the floor. Your shoulders sunk when you were met with silence again. 
“Get out, Tom.” 
“No, you don’t get to call me that.” Your eyes were glued to the ground. 
“Darling look at me. Please!” 
You could hear that his voice was shaky, and if you looked up, you’d probably see tears in his eyes. But you knew that if you did that, you would just give in like you always do. And you couldn’t keep doing that to yourself. 
You wrapped your arms around yourself.  “Get out.” 
He scoffed, sniffing as he backed away. “Right.” 
You stayed in your spot, stiff as a statue, wincing as you heard the door slam on his way out. You waited for a moment. A long, painful moment. To see if he would come back. To try and fix things. But he never did. Sure, you had told him to leave, so maybe it was a good thing that he respected your wish. Or maybe he just couldn't bear to be in the same room as you anymore. Either way, a part of you wanted him to fight for you. To want you enough. But he apparently couldn’t tell. Once you accepted that, you let out a deep sigh. 
Only then did you sluggishly make your way to your room. Once you turned off the lights and got under the covers, the tears started to fall and it felt like they would never stop. Your breathing was uneven, hiccups jumping from your throat as you wet your pillow with tears. Your eyes were blurry, your body shaking, and your heart felt heavy. 
You cried, your tears flowing down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut, your whole body feeling like it was aching from the inside. 
As soon as Tom closed the door to your apartment, he cursed, shoving his face into his palms as he leaned against the wall of the hallway, trying not to scream. His whole body felt unstable, uneasy and unsatisfied with the way things ended. After letting out a shaky breath and straightening up, he took the elevator down and sulked all the way home. He was frustrated and upset. Couldn’t you see what he was trying (poorly) to say? Couldn’t you see that he just wanted you to himself? 
When he got home, Harrison was lounging on the couch, his eyes concerned when he noticed Tom’s demeanor. “What’s wrong with you?”
Tom stepped further into the flat, silent, still processing everything. 
“Mate what happened? Didn’t you go to see Y/N?”
He swallowed, his brows furrowed as he looked down at the ground, making his way over to the couch. He slumped down in the seat, leaning his elbows on his knees as he hunched forward, rubbing his face listlessly. “Yeah, I uh––She kicked me out.” He still wasn’t looking up, his eyes not even focused on anything in the room. Sure, he was present, but his mind was far from it.
He could hear the confusion and concern in Harrison’s voice. “Shit, man. What did you do?”
“Well uh…” Tom explained, his head hanging in his hands as he recounted everything––how he was so wound up he could barely breathe as he burst into your home, immediately asking about the date, how you put him on the spot, how he froze up, how devastated you looked when you looked him in the eye. When he finished, the room was silent for a good while, the only sound heard being Tom’s shaky breaths.
“Are you fucking dumb?” 
Tom looked up at his best friend incredulously. “Dude?––”
“You basically called her a whore!” Harrison practically shouted, getting more and more aggravated. 
“There’s nothing wrong with fucking on the first date! And I never called her a whore! I just––” Tom countered, getting frustrated as well.
“Well that’s what you implied, dipshit!” Haz took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, resisting the urge to slap his best friend. “Why were you so upset in the first place, Tom?”
Tom opened his mouth and closed it immediately. He swallowed, suddenly feeling small and unsure of himself. “I––I don’t know.” 
Harrison looked at him deadpan. “Mate, you know why.” His eyes softened as he looked at his friend with pure intentions, wanting to give him honest guidance. “You need to be honest with yourself and her. It’s not fair to her that you keep playing this game, man. I’m surprised it lasted this long, honestly.” He shook his head, lying back in his seat. “You need to go fix this.”
Tom sighed, “I know.”
Harrison looked at him expectantly. “Like immediately.” 
“Dude, it’s late.” Tom looked at the time, it was almost eleven. 
“I sincerely doubt she’s asleep after what you did.” 
Tom winced, slowly letting out a puff of air as he gathered his thoughts, getting up from his seat. “Right. O–Okay. Shit.”
Harrison got up as well, eyes focused on his friend. He could practically see the thoughts flying around his head as he processed them all. 
Tom looked up at him, his eyes suddenly clearer. “Thanks man.” He stepped closer to his best friend and wrapped his arms around him. 
Harrison immediately reciprocated the gesture and patted him on the back a few times. “Go get her, mate.” 
You groaned when you saw the notification from the absolute last person you wanted to hear from right now––at least that’s what you told yourself, anyway. You couldn’t sleep, obviously and understandingly restless with your thoughts. So you picked up your phone to distract yourself, but of course, he found a way to intrude your thoughts again. 
Tom: open the door please.
Are you serious––
You turned off your phone and put it face down on the bed as you stared at the ceiling. Fuck. 
You slowly got out of bed, throwing the covers off of you, though your body was almost dragging you back down, as if it was warning you to stay put, to preserve your heart. But your mind pushed through and took control of your body, you had to know why he was here. You padded over to the front door, your socked feet cold against the hardwood floor. You looked through the peephole to see Tom there, desperately waiting for you to open the door. He looked as though he would stay out there no matter how long it took. 
You took a deep breath and opened the door. Time froze for a few seconds as you just stared at each other, taking in each other’s appearances. Tom’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes and nose red as well, and you could tell it wasn’t just from the cold. You were sure you looked just as fragile as he did. He looked scared, but also like he had something that he was aching to tell you. 
You cleared your throat and even that small sound felt too loud for the space around you, for the silence you were both clinging too. You stepped aside, “Come in.” 
He gave you a quick smile and moved past you, his actions way more hesitant than when he first came over tonight. He really was nervous. 
You closed and locked the door and turned around to face him after taking another deep breath, this one more shaky than the last, your heartbeat starting to race. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shifting from side to side as you both stood there in front of each other. You had both calmed down since you last met, both your energies very different. He was anxious, desperate, aware. You were tired, hopeful but wary. But there was a distinct feeling of longing between the two of you.
“I um––” He swallowed, rubbing his hands nervously. “I have something I need to tell you.”
You bit your lip and looked up at him before moving past him and sitting on your couch, your knees pulled up to your chest as you watched him come over and take a seat as well. “Okay.” You muttered, eyes wide as you watched him. 
He sat down on the other end of the couch without taking off his jacket, the distance between the two of you seemingly getting larger and larger. He scratched the back of his head, looking down at the carpet and taking a deep breath to prepare himself to speak. “I just––I’ve never been good at...communicating when it came to you and––I was never really sure why. Or at least I was scared to admit the reason. I would just watch you and hold you when you let me and then get jealous when you walked away. I always felt empty when you left me, Y/N.” He looked up at you and you sucked in a breath, suddenly realizing how intimate and vulnerable he was being. 
“For some stupid reason I found myself pushing away the one person I wanted closest in my life. I was just so scared by how much I care for you, for how much I––love you.” He licked his lips and looked down again and you shifted on the couch, your heartbeat now pounding in your ears. 
“I acted like a dumbass. I’m sorry. And I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness, hell I don’t even deserve you––” He sniffled before making eye contact with you again, a small smile on his face. “But I just wanted to tell you the truth for once. I’m in love with you, darling. Have been for a while now.” You could see his eyes tracing your face, almost as if he were taking it all in, preparing for if this were the last time he would get to see it. “That’s all I wanted to say.” 
There was a small silence between the two of you once he finished. You took a deep breath and slid over to his side of the couch, making his eyes widen curiously as he watched you. His breath hitched and he looked up at you, without a word. 
“You’re an idiot.” You whispered. But before he could retort you grabbed his face with two hands and pulled him in for a kiss. At first he was in shock, but he soon reciprocated, his hands finding their way to your waist as he held you, your lips moving together in sync the way they should. 
You pulled away and when you opened your eyes you saw him looking at you in awe. You ran your thumbs over the soft skin of his cheeks gently as you looked into his eyes. “I love you too Tom. Always have.” 
He laughed and you both sighed, happy, relieved as you finally got what you wanted. “I guess we’re both idiots then, huh?” 
You tilted your head, a small smile on your face. “You’re definitely the bigger idiot.”
“Hey!” He pinched your waist playfully making you yelp and climb into his lap. 
You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked down at him with an adoring smile, but your expression became serious for a moment. You bit your lip nervously, looking between both of his eyes. “Don’t ever hurt me like that again. Okay?”
He answered immediately, not hesitating like he was before. “I promise, love. I never want to hurt you again. Ever.” 
You kissed delicately and pulled away. Once your eyes met, there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you, you needed each other. 
Your lips reconnected more passionately this time, but still gentle. Soon you were slowly pushing the jacket off of Tom’s shoulders, letting it lay on the couch. You both got up and made your way to your bedroom, still sharing kisses as you walked through your apartment, your hands holding each other along the way. 
Within no time, your clothes were off. Your body was resting comfortably as you lied in your bed, Tom hovering over you, his lips slotting with yours as his fingers stretched you out. You were moaning and sighing into his mouth, and he could feel the blood rushing through his body from the sounds. 
His touches were tender, and familiar as his fingers worked you up gradually. His thumb rubbed at your bundle of nerves and your lips pulled away from his to let a breathy sigh part through them. He smiled fondly as he watched you get close, your hips starting to buck into his hand, but you brought a hand down to hold his wrist, making him halt his actions, eyes searching yours. 
Your eyes were closed as you breathed out, trying to calm yourself down. You looked up at him. “Want––I want you, Tom. Wanna feel you.” 
Tom nodded, biting his lip at the whine you let out when he pulled his fingers out of you. His eyes were taking you in as he slipped the two fingers, wet with your arousal into his mouth, sucking them clean and letting them go with a pop before positioning himself at your entrance. 
You were spread open for him, legs around him as he slid himself in slowly, inch by inch. “Wanted to feel me, love. So I’ll let you feel all of me.” He bottomed out and the both of you moaned as you clenched around him. 
You brought your hands up to his shoulder and pulled him into you, letting him rest some of his weight on you as you held each other, every part of you that could be touching, doing so. Your lips met again, the two of you still moving languidly, but desperately as you yearned for every part of each other. Tom bit your lip softly, slipping his tongue past your lips to tease yours.  
He pulled his hips back and pushed them back into you deeply, making you let out a breathy moan and he trailed his kisses from the corner of your mouth, along your jaw to your neck as he started thrusting in and out of you. One of your arms slid across his back, pushing him into you, as the other hand found comfort in his curls, tugging and making him groan into your neck, his lips not letting up. 
His hips were slowly pounding into you, gradually picking up the pace. Everything about this was soft and loving, like a brand new start for the both of you. In a way, it felt like your first time all over again. 
Tom squeezed a hand between the two of you to play with your clit, his hips still thrusting into you relentlessly with purpose. His face was buried between your shoulder and your neck, his lips leaving soft kisses, and sucking marks onto the smooth skin. You were both breathing heavily, consumed by the feeling of one another.
“Fucking love you darling.” He was grunting as you both approached your highs. “Love how my pussy feels too. My good girl.” 
Your hands were desperately clawing and grabbing at his back and his hair as you felt yourself moving towards the edge, your body aching for a sweet release. You needed that relief. You needed to let go now that you knew Tom would be there to catch you, to hold you. 
“M’Yours, Tom.” You whined breathlessly as you whispered into his ear. “Make me yours. Cum with me.” 
He groaned loudly and bit into your shoulder, the two of you soon releasing together, your bodies curving in on each other as you held each other tightly. Your back arched underneath him as his thrusts slowed, his hips pulling almost all the way out before he slammed back in, reaching the hilt, making you gasp as he came inside you. 
He raised himself up on both hands and you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongue finding its way into his mouth, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip. The kiss was fierce and wanton as you pulled each other impossibly closer, almost as if you wanted to merge into one. 
When you both pulled away you were breathing roughly, panting into the quiet air of your room. You bit your lip and brought a hand to his cheek to hold him lovingly. He turned his head and gave your palm a lasting kiss, pouring all his emotions into the small gesture. You smiled up at him. 
“I love you.” 
He kissed your palm again, then your wrist, and made his way down, kissing along your arm, then your chest and finally looked into your eyes, responding before kissing your lips yet again. “I love you too. So so much. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying it.” 
You laughed warmly, pulling him closer so that your lips were grazing his. “Good. Because I don’t ever want to stop hearing it.” 
He smiled, licking his lips. “Deal.”
2K notes · View notes
farfromparker · a year ago
Too Busy Being Yours
Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader
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Part 2!
Summary: Peter’s had a crush on you since he moved into the Avenger’s compound. He heads down for training one morning and finds out he’s set to be your sparing partner for the next couple weeks. He also finds out he likes the feel of your hand around his throat. 
Warnings: smut, choking kink, sub!peter (Peter is 19!)
A/N: I’m a sucker for sub Peter/Tom so don’t be surprised if this isn’t the last piece like this I write. Also, Infinity War/Endgame? Not in this house!!
Word Count: 4k 
Peter walks into the training compound, gym bag slung over his shoulder and he already knows you’re here. Your tell tale training playlist blasting through the speakers and he finds himself humming along as he approaches the schedule. He slides his finger down the list until he finds today’s date. 
“Tony wanted us to be sparring partners for a couple weeks, said we could learn a few things from each other.” You raise your hands in air quotes over the last part. 
Peter swallows dryly… weeks? 
He looks over to you and watches as you remove your fingerless gloves, a light sheen of sweat coats your forehead. He can see your knuckles are red from where you've been hitting the punching bag. You’re gorgeous. 
“Right, sure?” He meant it as a statement but it comes out as a question. 
You elaborate, “He said I fight dirty and - well you’re obviously a lot stronger than me so,” you shrug. 
It makes sense, you can learn from each other instead of squaring up with someone that has a similar fighting style. On missions, people are going to do whatever they can to take advantage. It makes total sense. Peter’s just having a hard time thinking straight knowing he’s going to be fighting - wrestling with you - daily… for weeks. 
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” 
“C’mon Parker, I’ll take it easy on you,” you wink at him as you walk past. He bites his lip and falls in line behind you, trying his best to ignore how tight your leggings are around your ass. He fails. 
You stretch when you get to the mats, bending over and Peter drops his head, gym bag slipping off his shoulder and onto the ground. He kneels down and rummages through it for something - anything - to distract himself. He manages to just pull out a towel and set it aside. Nice Peter. 
You’re bouncing up and down now, springing up from the balls of your feet and shaking your arms. He catches your eye and you raise your eyebrows in a silent question. He rolls his shoulders as he stands and makes his way over to you, watching as you bring your hands up closer to your face. 
You circle each other at first as he dodges your first few strikes but makes no attempt to reciprocate. You huff, “You’re not gonna hurt me Peter, I’ve been shot before I think I can handle a broken rib or similar.” 
Peter’s eyes go wide “I’m not gonna break your ribs!”
You land a blow to his stomach and the air leaves his lunges in a rush. You smirk “I know.” 
His eyes narrow. He’s worked missions with you before but he’s never really seen you in action. Tony was right, you did fight dirty.
“That was cheap.” He murmurs, dodging another strike from you before grabbing your arm and flipping you to the ground. This time, it’s your eyes that go wide. “It won’t happen again.” He says leaning over you, smirking. 
He’s able to focus better after that, you aren’t the girl he’s been pining after since he moved into the tower, instead you’re an opponent with a smart mouth. 
9 out of 10 times he gets you pinned and you’re forced to restart but after the fourth round, you’re catching on. He leaves his left flank exposed when he follows through with a punch. You’re getting quicker now, dodging and striking at his weakness. He can feel his ribs bruising from it but the pain doesn’t compare to how much he’s actually enjoying fighting with you. 
He’s bantering with you, spitting smart remarks back in your face. You’re impressed, smirking and laughing and he’s proud he can stand toe to toe with you in that aspect. 
“Tap out” he taunts, you’re pinned underneath him, your wrists in his hands and you’re both panting. 
“No” you retort and he admires your fight. 
He’s about to continue on, count the ways he’s got you beat but before he can, you roll your hips up against him, planting your feet and throwing your weight upward. He’s caught off guard and you take advantage, ripping your hands free as you roll over top of him. 
It happens in the blink of an eye, he’s reaching to grab you back when suddenly your grip is on his throat, your hand tightens and his world shrinks. He gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately tries to ignore the pull in his groin. 
“Fuck, Peter I’m sorry.” As quickly as it came, the pressure is gone. You release him and when he opens his eyes he can see the concern written across your face. You’re kneeling next to him now and he rolls towards you, propping himself up on his elbow. He scrubs a hand across his face. “I was just looking for something to get the upper hand and I didn’t - fuck - are you -“ 
“Y/n I’m fine. Hey, it worked didn’t it? You definitely won that round.” He tries to laugh it off but he can feel how hot his face is, cheeks stained in embarrassment. He hopes you just attribute it to the physical activity. 
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
He smiles and sits up “I’m Spider-Man, I’ve definitely been through worse.” 
You don’t look completely convinced but you let it slide. “Probably call it a day anyway, we’ve been here almost 2 hours now.” 
“Yeah, good idea.” He agrees, standing and walking over to his gym bag to get his water. 
You hesitate, drumming your fingers against your thigh before walking over to your own bag and flinging it over your shoulder. Peter can see small bruises blooming across your shoulder blades and he feels guilty. 
“Well, I’ll catch you around Parker.” 
“Yeah, see ya.”
He doesn’t really remember walking back to his quarters, his body went on autopilot as his mind went into overdrive. His fingers twitch against his side as F.R.I.D.A.Y. welcomes him back and opens the door. He could still feel your hand on his throat, feel your body on top of his, hear your labored breathing.  He drops his bag on the floor as the door shuts firmly behind him. He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it to the ground before sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He’s half hard, cock twitching in interest every time his mind plays it over again and he groans. Was this a thing now? He couldn’t distinguish if it was the feeling of your hand around his throat or simply the fact that it was you with your hand around his throat. He’d come to terms a long time ago that he’d be willing to do anything you wanted, if the opportunity arose (it hadn’t) but this - this is something he wasn’t prepared for. 
It’s really all downhill from there. His brain is a treacherous bastard and he dreams about you every night, on top of him, hand on his throat, grinding down on his cock. He wakes up sweaty and horny, or worse, already stained with cum. He’s 19 for fucks sake and he’s having wet dreams again like he’s pubescent. 
He has trouble focusing when he’s sparring with you. Mind hazy. You’re getting better no doubt but a couple of landed blows to the face later and Peter starts to weigh the options of a broken jaw or just telling you how he feels and facing complete and utter humiliation.
He walks in one morning some days later, having barely slept again and you’re already there, warming up. You always get there before he does. 
“Peter, I made a new playlist for us. I know you were getting sick of Post.” 
Peter smiles, “Nah, you always have the best playlists, I could never get sick of them.”
You smile brightly at him and point towards your phone, “Play it, I named it after you.”
He smiles, proud to have a playlist named after him on your phone. You’ve always been serious about your music and he likes to be associated with something that truly makes you, you. 
He glances at your phone and it unlocks, you had insisted on adding his face to your phone ID “in case of emergencies” and vice versa and it was another thing Peter was proud to have. Tony had been annoyed, huffing something about F.R.I.D.A.Y just being able to hack in anyway. You had laughed. 
He thumbs over to your music and selects playlists and he sees his name “Parker”…. followed by “Sex” and he stops breathing for a moment. His thumb hovers over the word. You had a sex playlist and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing it. Curiosity getting the best of him as he scrolls through the songs. How often did you listen to this playlist? Had you gotten off to this song? Or that one? Who were listening to this playlist with? 
“Find it?” You ask, startling him. 
“Uh yeah - you uh, you have a sex playlist?” He hates that his voice raises an octave towards the end. 
“Oh of course, don’t you?” 
Should probably have sex more than once to compile a playlist. 
You study him for a second before stepping into his space and scrolling through your phone while it’s still in his hands. “We can listen to it if you want to, there’s some bangers in here,” you wink at him as the music starts. You’re so fucking cool. 
A heavy beat starts out, easy to move to while a guitar strums along. He knows this song but knowing that you’ve possibly had sex to this song? Possibly had an orgasm to this song? It holds new meaning now. 
You square up to him, rolling your neck and he gets into a defensive stance. 
Have you got colour in your cheeks'
You strike first and he blocks, countering with a blow to your shoulder. You step back with a huff before getting back into position. He comes towards you but you dodge him easily, grabbing his wrist and twisting it up against his back. 
I dreamt about you nearly every night this week
He goes to move out of your lock but you hook your foot against his movement, catching him off guard. He tumbles to the ground, arms behind his back. It was sloppy and too easy. You both know it but he taps out anyway.  
(Do I wanna know?)
If this feeling flows both ways
(Sad to see you go)
Was sorta hoping that you'd stay
He can’t focus on fighting with this song in the background. He thinks he sees something different in your eyes as well but he can’t comment on it. Too afraid of the answer. 
Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new
You pin him again, straddling his waist this time and he could get out of it. He doesn’t want to though and he hopes you don’t want him to either. A moment of confidence (or stupidity) flows through him and he pulls his hand out of your grasp. You let him easily and he hears the slightest increase in your breathing. He grabs your wrist gently and carefully guides it to his throat. He can’t look you in the eyes anymore, opting to squeeze them shut rather than feel the weight of your gaze. He presses his lips into a thin line as he feels your fingers glide along his skin. 
Your fingers dig into the column of his throat and he whines, just a small noise but he knows your hear it. The blood has rushed to his cock and he knows you know. He can feel the heat and weight of you against him and he can’t stop himself from grinding up into you. 
You gasp, and for a moment he’s worried he’s popped this bubble you’ve found yourselves in, but you compose yourself quickly, rocking your hips back down against him and he can’t keep quiet any longer. 
“Y/n” he moans. 
The door to the training compound slams and you quickly pull your hand away from his throat, startled. Peter can’t bare to look at the door but he’s thankful you make no move to get off him, there’s no way he could hide how hard he is without you. He watches your eyes narrow and he has a pretty good idea of who has walked in. 
“Damn y/n, I think you win that round.” Sam’s voice echoes off the walls, somehow louder than the music. Peter has never wanted to kill someone more than right now. 
You flip Sam off as Peter sits up, giving you the cue that you can get off of him, as much as he absolutely does not want that. 
“I always knew she’d be the type to kick your ass in the streets and the sheets.” Bucky says and now Peter wants to die. If more people keep walking in it’s going to be extremely hard - pun intended - to get out of this situation without further damage to his ego. 
His gym bag slams against his shoulder and he looks up to see you looking back at him. Thank fuck. 
“Thanks.” He whispers, the double meaning not lost on you. 
“You only wish I’d whip your ass into shape Buck” the words roll off your tongue easily, almost like you didn’t just have you hand on Peter’s throat. 
“Dream about it every night darling, when you’re done with Peter let me know.” 
He’s joking, Peter knows that but the words sting all the same. 
“Keep dreaming soldier.” The music stops as you disconnect your phone. “C’mon Parker, I’m hungry.” 
Peter’s frozen in place, the sting easing in his chest. He had started coming to terms that this had been ruined, that you’d come back to reality and realized how ridiculous he is and that you’re definitely not interested… but you’re looking at him with that hint of something different he’d seen before. This isn’t over?
“Wait, Pete, shouldn’t you buy her dinner first?” Sam jabs. 
“Fuck off” he retorts, catching up to you quickly and Sam and Bucky are practically cackling but he doesn’t care anymore. Your hand is sliding down his arm as you walk out of the compound and they can joke all they want as long as you keep looking at him like that. 
You don’t say anything as you press the elevator button. The doors open and you both step on. Peter goes to press the ground floor button but you knock is hand out of the way, pressing the button for the top floor, where your quarters are located. 
“I’m not hungry for food Peter.”
He makes a pitiful noise, succumbing to the shift in the air. You have complete control in everything that happens moving forward and Peter couldn’t be more turned on.  
“Shh baby, soon.” You coo, running a hand up to scrape through his hair, tugging lightly and he moans again. “You’re so responsive… I love it. I can’t wait to find out what other noises I can pull from that pretty mouth of yours.” 
He’s positive if you had merely brushed against his dick he’d have cum. 
The doors open and he follows you like a lost puppy toward your room. Once inside, he drops his bag off to the side. He glances over towards you, suddenly extremely nervous.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., active Red Hat protocol, please.”
F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s electronically polished voice sounds, “Activated.”
Peter’s brows furrow, “Red Hat?”
You walk toward him, sliding a hand underneath his shirt when you reach him, “We’re offline. Tony can’t send for us, no one can. And if he tries to override it, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will alert me while sending him down a rabbit hole. We’ll have about 5 minutes from her warning before Stark will force his way in again.” You’re smirking now, toying with the band of his boxers. 
“I’m so turned on right now.” Peter smiles, his tone is joking but he’s completely serious. You laugh, bright and loud. 
“Now, I believe we left off somewhere..?” You smirk, reaching a hand up to wrap around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. He sighs into you, gripping your hips and pulling you in closer. His lips slip smoothly against yours, tiny noises raising from the back of his throat. 
Moving your hand back down his body, you push his shirt up, pulling away from the kiss as he removes it the rest of the way. He wants to keep kissing you but you have other ideas, pressing a thumb against his jaw to move his head and get access to his neck. He swallows thickly as your breath ghosts over his skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. 
The silence is killing him and, hoping to distract himself from making more embarrassing noises, he starts talking. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Your lips press against his skin “I know.” 
Heat settles on his cheeks again but he can’t stop himself from continuing on, “You're amazing, and so sexy. I’ve been dreaming about you.” What?! Peter shut up. 
“Tell me about them.”
He bites his lip, cock throbbing as you open your mouth against his neck, tongue meeting skin. 
“They’re - uh you’re - you have your hand on my throat….” he feels like the rest of the picture should paint itself, you basically acted the rest of it out down in the training compound. 
You’re not satisfied though, humming before your teeth scrape against his neck. He hisses “F-fuck y/n.”
“There has to be more to your dreams, Peter.”
Suddenly, your hand is on his cock, squeezing through the fabric of his joggers and he throws his head back, hitting the wall hard but he barely feels it. The moan that falls out of his mouth sounds pornographic but he’s in no mind to be embarrassed. 
“Y-yes, there's more. You’re on top me, riding me and I - uggghhh.” 
He can feel your lips curl into a smile, feel the pressure of your fingertips on his hips as you push his joggers and boxers down his legs. He kicks out of them as you step away, his body instinctively wanting to follow your heat. Stupidly, he wants to cover himself because you’re still fully clothed and he’s standing there, naked and hard, shy under your gaze. “Lay down Peter.” Your voice is soft, like you can see how vulnerable he feels. 
Peter’s head is swimming, “Right, yeah.” 
He settles down against the pillows and watches as you strip naked. He eyes you hungrily, every curve and fine line of muscle, every scar and mole. He wants to touch you everywhere. He reaches down and squeezes the base of his cock to relieve some pressure. You tsk as you walk toward him “Hands off.” And he immediately let’s go, settling instead on your thighs as you straddle him, wet cunt slipping against his cock and he sees stars explode as his eyes slide shut. 
“Holy shit.” He moans, squeezing your legs, wanting nothing more than to rut up against you. 
“I said,” you grab his wrists and pull them away from your body, “hands off.”
He whines, but does as you command, reaching his hands up and gripping the metal of your headboard. You cock your head, “Don’t break my headboard, I’m kind of fond of it.”
A small laugh slips past his lips, “I’ll do my best but - ughh,” you rock against him, “no promises.”
You lean down over him, lips finding his and he opens his mouth to yours. Your hands slide up his stomach, fingernails leaving small red trails in their wake. You brush against his nipples, earning a small noise from him before your right hand reaches his neck. You pull away, kissing the side of his mouth before pulling back to look in his eyes. He’s flushed, lips shiny and pupils blown.  
“You’re gorgeous Peter.”
He smiles, a deeper flush settling on his cheeks, “You’re more gorgeous.”
You smirk back, “Always the flatterer, but back to that dream you’ve been having.” Your fingertips ghost along his throat. 
He groans, fingers flexing into your headboard. He ruts up against you, cock dribbling precome against his stomach, “Y/n, please.”
“Oh Peter,” your hand clasps around this throat gently, fingertips applying pressure and you slide along his cock. Cockhead rubbing against your clit. You squeeze gently before releasing him, and he sighs, fixing his gaze back on you. 
“More, please.” 
“So polite,” you coo. “And you’ll get more baby boy, but first.” You reach over him and into your nightstand, pulling out a condom. He releases the headboard, intending to take the condom from you but you rip it open with your teeth, cocking an eyebrow at him. His mouth pops open slightly before you kneel up over him, taking his cock in your hand and rolling the rubber down his length. 
You grab his wrists and guide them back to the headboard, “Final warning, Peter. I’ll have to punish you if it happens again.” As much as he doesn’t want to disobey you the thought of what your punishment could entail has his cock twitching. 
Suddenly you’re sinking down on his dick and he whines, “Fuck, oh fuck, please.” He can hear your moans as well, mixing in the air with his noises. Your hand comes back up to his throat, placing your grip on the skin there. You don’t squeeze, opting to just feel the hammering of his heartbeat under your fingertips. 
You’re riding him now, grinding down on him whenever your thighs meet his hips. He can’t stop himself from flexing up into you, “So good, oh fuck - you feel so good.”
“Peter,” you gasp, “need you, touch me.” 
He’s quick to get his hand on your lower stomach, feeling your muscles quiver with each movement. His thumb finds your clit after some mild fumbling and you groan as he starts to rub it. 
“Mmm so good.” You moan, opening your eyes to look down at him. You squeeze gently around his neck and there’s another sharp prick of arousal in his groin. He thumbs at your clit quicker now, the pressure on his neck and cock are catching up with him but he doesn’t want to finish before you do. 
You let go of his throat as you lean back, his cock rubbing up against that spot that has your thighs trembling. He reaches his free hand up to palm at your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers, mesmerized as you move on his cock. Your walls clench around him and he bites his lip. “Fuck sweetheart, not gonna last much longer with you doing that.” He grits out. 
You moan, “That’s the point baby boy.” 
His hips begin to stutter underneath you and you knock his hand off your clit to replace it with your own. Watching you touch yourself while fucking yourself on his cock is what sends him over the edge. He reaches down for the covers laying underneath him, having enough mind to stop himself from bruising you. He comes loudly, cock pulsing inside you as he pushes his head back into the pillow, exposing his neck to you. He’s riding out his orgasm when feels you flutter around him, overstimulated as a sting of pain mixes with pleasure. 
You’re moaning his name, milking your climax for all it’s worth and his stomach clenches as his cock spills a few final drops of cum into the condom. 
You collapse on top of him, heaving and sticky with sweat. You hum, placing a kiss along his collarbone before raising your head to look at him. You smile at him, “Way better than any fantasy.” 
He sputters, “You’ve been…? You fantasize about this? About me?” 
You place a quick kiss to his lips before lifting yourself off of him. “You thought it was a coincidence that you came across my sex playlist?” You ask as you wink, disappearing into the bathroom. 
Peter smiles to himself, then “Wait, this wasn’t a one a time thing, right?” Does he sound a little desperate and a lot hopeful? Yes. 
He hears you laugh through the thin wall. “Don’t worry about that baby boy, I have a lot of plans for you.” 
Tony squints at the screen. The coding where your room is - where your room should be - is gone. He rubs a thumb along his chin. 
“What’s got you so deep in thought?” Bruce asks as he walks around him. 
“Hm? Oh no, nothing. Y/n and spidey have just disappeared.”
“Oh yeah? Good for them, it’s about time.”
“Yeah, yeah right. Good for them.”
Bruce raises an eyebrow at him, studying Tony over the top of his glasses, “You can’t figure out how to bring them back online.”
Tony scoffs, “Of course I can, but what kind of mentor would I be if I cockblocked the kid?”
Bruce laughs, “Keep telling yourself that Tony.”
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spideyyeet · a year ago
Request: Tom being SUUUCH A DIRTY TALKER the first time him and the reader fuck. And bonus points if their best friends and Tom just confessed, leading up to him being such a sweet dirty talker as he fucks the reader slow and good
(Frat!Tom Holland x reader)
Dirty Halloween
Warning: smut, language, Halloween, angst, hella dirty talk
- ————————————————————————-
It’s not your fault PERIOD!
It all happened so fast.
First your helping him set up the party with the guys
Then your placing all the drinks in the fridge
Then you were talking in his room
Then he, he—you know—said it
And you bolted
It’s not your fault!!! what was he expecting! Your best fucking friend told you that he likes you more than a best fucking friend!
You rubbed your face, as you groaned into the couch. What made it ten times worse is you can hear your roommate fucking in her room.
Life’s great!
You finally decided to get up and shower. You didn’t bother looking at your phone. And soon your earphones were on and you were sleeping.
— two days later (Halloween) —
You haven’t talked to him in two days. two fucking days. Why? Well maybe because your confused. Your confused because you weren’t mad. Your confused because he’s your best friend. Your confused because….because….beca—
“You coming?” Riley called from the kicthen, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Y-Yea, just taking a piss!” You yelled from the bathroom. Finishing up and flushing the toilet.
You washed your hands, not really taking a glance at yourself. Dressing up wasn’t your thing, costumes weren’t your thing. Basically anything that had to do with effort and looking decent wasnt your thing. And everyone knows that.
“I really thought you were gonan dress up this year.” Riley said as she picked up her jacket.
“I did dress up.” You said, making her scoff, and look over you.
“Please tell me.” She said, making you smile, and twirl.
“Well as you can see, I’m a tourist in Hawaii.” You said making Riley chuckle. It wasn’t that you looked bad, you looked perfectly fine so she just shrugged, letting you wear your army shorts, black bra and unbuttoned yellow Hawaiian shirt. You quickly slipped on your socks as they reached your chins, then tied your converse and you were both out.
“This won’t be awkward right?” Riley said as you both neared the house.
“Nope , not at all.” You lied, Riley nodding.
“Kay good cuz I don’t think I can take your ass back home cuz I’ll probably be fuckin somewhere.” She said, making you hum and nod. It wasn’t anything knew, Riley use to be in a sorority, she obviously quit cuz the girls thought of her as a hoe. Even though all of them are, she just showed it too much. And she knew she was a hoe but she’s okay with that, and she looked good in her devils costume.
And so, you both stepped in to the frat house.
Aka Tom Holland’s frat house.
Aka your best friend, Tom Holland, who’s leaning against the wall shirtless with red suspenders holding up his loose firefighter pants. You quickly brought your hand up to your face making a beeline to the opposite side of the house. You knew all the ins and outs of the house, honestly the guys saw you as part of the frat cuz of how often you spend your time here. And you would too. But you’d never live in a house with sex crazed guys, even though most of them are sweethearts, they also like getting their dicks wet.
Tom was standing in the best spot. Why? Well because he had a perfect view of the front entrance and back entrance. And his eyes quickly fell on you as you walked in. His cheeks heating up quickly, his eyes looking over you with a smile, biting his lip when he noticed your unbuttoned shirt—but then you locked eyes with him and were swerving away.
“Y/n/n!” Tom shouted only causing you to duck down, and crawl until you were hiding under a table. “Y/n/n?” You closed your eyes hearing your name again. “Y/n/n.” And you didn’t have to open your eyes to know he found you. “You can’t ignore me.” He said kneeling by the table, looking at you.
You opened your eyes, squinting slightly as you gave him a crooked smile, making him smile. “I didn’t hear you.” You said, looking eyes with your best friend.
“Can we talk?” He said, speaking loudly so you can hear him over the music.
“I’m really lovin the party, didn’t even get a drink yet.” You said making Tom clench his jaw slightly.
“Y/n/n.” He pressed—
“I love the decorations, all the joker and It stuff, pretty dope.” You said only causing Tom to bite his bottom lip.
“Y/n/n, please get your ass up before I throw you over my shoulder and take you myself.” He said making you look anywhere but him. “Fine.” And so his hands came under your knees, pulling you forward, before he was lifting you over his shoulder and standing up.
“Woah!” You yelled at how fast that happened. Tom ignored everyone cheering and yelling Tom to smack your ass. You managed to steal a beer from Harrison, as Tom took you upstairs and into his room.
He put you down, before taking a few steps back watching you drink the beer looking around the room avoiding his eyes.
“Is there somethin new? I feel like you added something from the last time I was here—wait those are new bedsheets—“
“There the same ones.” Tom interrupted.
“Really cuz I fe—“
“Stop.” Tom snapped. “Fucking stop with all this bullshit small talk shit. Your my best friend and I’m sorry I made things awkward. I’m sorry. I-I just couldn’t hold it any longer and I needed to get it out. But I don’t wanna loose you y/n/n. I said something because I don’t wanna lie to you anymore and you’ve been asking me why I have so much fucking sex—well that’s cuz of you! your always in my fucking head y/n/n, and I can never get you out! the amount of times I’ve called your name while having my dick in some other girl is too much to count, and it’s not because I think of you in ways a best friend should be thinking about, but for fucks sake I can’t keep my feelings for you inside anymore. Fuck! I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, just forget about it, all of it. I just—ugh I just want you back. I want it to go back to before I fucked this up. Please.” You stood frozen, biting your lip as you twirled the end of your Hawaiian shirt. Shaking your head no. You watched as Toms eyes fell.
“It can’t—go back to how it was before Tom.” You said, making Tom tug his hair, as he covered his face with his hands, groaning.
“Y/n/n please, please please don’t leave me.” Tom said, his hands still over his face, his chest clenching trying to hold back how much it’ll hurt when you walk out. But that doesn’t happen. Because he feels cold hands against his bare chest. You always have cold hands.
“I’m not leaving you.” You said, your hands traveling up his arms, before they locked around his wrists pulling his hands away from his face.
“Your not?” He said, feeling his body grow hot at how close you were, your bra grazing his chest. You shook your head, your hands going under the suspenders before you leaned in, connecting your lips to his shoulder blades. Tom exhaled a little too loudly, but you didn’t mind, especially when you felt an arm hesitatantly wrap around your waist, holding your bare skin.
“W-What’re you doing?” Tom asked nervously, as he felt you rub your core against him, causing his abs to flex.
“This is your chance.” You said as you sighed feeling his bulge press against your shorts rubbing your clit. And at that very moment a flip went inside his mind, and your body was against the door, your hands pinned against them by his hands. .
“I’m giving you thirty seconds to walk out now y/n/n. Thirty. Seconds. And if you don’t that means your—your telling me I can do this.” Tom said breathing harshly he tried hard not to grind his bulge between your open legs. He just watched as your chest heaved, your lips parted slightly, and your eyes locked on his. “Twenty seconds.” He pressed, his heart beating quickly.
“I’m not going anywhere.” You said, causing Tom to drop his head on your shoulder, turning it to your neck as he felt the warmth from your skin.
“Darling things are gonna change, ten seconds.” He said, feeling you buck your hips slightly, causing his abs to clench, and lean forward, squinting his eyes shut.
“I want you Tommy.” And those were the only words he needed to push his hips against yours, making you moan until he silenced them with his lips. You desperately tried to get more friction over the shorts, but Tom now pinned your wrists with only one hand, his other on your waist, moving up until his thumb was rubbing your nipple through the thin black fabric of your bra.
“Take it off.” You said breath like, as you continued to push your hips into his.
“So impatient. I can feel those perky nipples of yours.” He said before grinding up, causing you to whimper and push against his hand. “You avoided me.” He said nipping at your neck. “For two days.” He continued. “And now you show up like this.” He said forcing your lips open with his tongue. You moaning.
You couldn’t respond. Only light moans coming when you felt his fingers pinch your nipples through the bra. “Uh uh uh.
“Want me to let go of your hands baby?” Tom said licking up your throat, causing you to nod eagerly, goosebumps rising on your skin even though you felt your body burning.
“Y-Yes, yes.” You said a little too desperately, and Tom couldn’t deny his long time crush. So he let go of your hands, feeling them go straight for his curls, your leg instinctively coming around his waist, Tom holding it in please as he grounded his hips harder into you, your head hitting the door as you moaned. “Please.”
“Please? What do you want?” Tom said with a smirk, as he pulled away slightly to shrug your Hawaiian shirt off. Your hands quickly got back onto him after the shirt was off. Your hand slightly tugging on the curls making him grunt. “Want me to touch you?” He said licking your lips, before sucking on your jaw waiting for you to answer.
“Cmon,” you groaned, as his hand squeezed your ass. Tom smiled against your neck, slowly pulling away, your eyes looking over him panickly, before you were wrapping your arms around his neck. “No, no, fine take your time just don’t leav—“
Tom chuckled lightly, wrapping an arm back around you. As he pushed his clothed cock against you. “I wasn’t gonna leave you.” He said capturing your bottom lip, his hand coming up your back and unclasping your bra. “Now lets see those pretty fucking titties of yours.” He said as he took the rest off, tossing it aside. He leaned back slightly, so he can get a view of your breasts pushing up, as it rose and fell with each breath. “Oh fuck.” He said, his chest clenching trying not to get too excited from seeing his best friends tits. You held on to his wrist, not wanting him to go any further.
“T-Tom,” you said trying to squeeze your thighs together but he quickly placed his leg, stopping you.
“What’s wrong?” He said cocking his head to the side as his thumb rolled over your nipple, watching your eyes flutter shut for a second. “Ah I see, want me to touch you, down there angel?” He said licking his lips as he watched you nod. “Want me to take those shorts off you?” He said leaning in closer and pushing his thigh up against your core, and rubbing it. You moaned, your head moving to the side letting Tom kiss your chest, and pinch your nipple.
“Please.” You let out softly, grinding slightly on his thigh. Tom bit his lip, exhaling against your neck.
“Want me to see your pretty pussy?” He said, rubbing his cock against your thigh. Your hand clutched his suspenders, as you moaned.
“Tommy.” You moaned. Tom bit his lip, letting his hands go down, and soon his mouth was sucking your nipple as the other held the inside of your thigh, his thumb pushing against your clit through the shorts.
Your hand tugged on his hair, making him look up. “Cmon babygirl, let me take my time, wanna feel you.” He said, looking up at you with innocent lust blown eyes. You sighed letting him lap at your breasts until he started untying your shoes and taking them off and your socks, and soon you felt your shorts go, leaving you in your thong.
“Fuck, I see right through this y/n/n.” Tom said staring up at your white see through thong. He groaned seeing the wet patch, his mouth kissing right above it. You moaned, your head going back. “So wet, because of me?” He said watching you moan a yes as he pushed a thumb against it. Tom pressed a kiss against the thin fabric, his tongue pushing and tasting. And before you know it, no warning, he pushed the thong aside, his tongue diving in quickly, you moaned loudly, your hand on his shoulder as you brought your leg up higher to let his tongue go in deeper.
“Fuck, so sweet.” Tom said pulling back to take a breath, his finger going in to replace his tongue. And he was picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. “You taste so good, my tongue deep in that pussy of yours. So wet for me.” He said his tongue going in your mouth, two fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, as you moved against the door. “Cmon I need you to cum now, right here with my finger moving inside that tight pussy.” He said curling his fingers up as you arched your back. “Cmon lovey,” he said going faster.
“I-I’m Gonna cum!” You moaned out loudly, his fingers were covered, and he was still pumping through your high. Before you know it he was laying you on the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor taking his fingers out, his tongue going inside, and lapping at your arousal. You couldn’t help the yelp that escaped your lips, your legs trying to close but he pushed them open. “Keep em open wide darling.” Tom mumbled, before his tongue entered you once again.
“T-Tom, I’m gonna cum again!” You said tugging his hair, making him moan into your core.
“Then come all over my face, you can do it, wanna have you on my face.” He said causing your back to arch from his words and pussy grind on his face. Tom didn’t seem to mind, in fact he loved it. The girl that he’s known since high school, is rubbing her wet pussy against his tongue, fuck if something couldn’t turn him on more. And soon you were cumming. Toms eyes locked on your face as you screamed his name. He smiled at the taste, swallowing and taking more. “So fucking good.” He said his hands still holding your legs open, pulling back to see your pussy clench and some more arousal coming out making him smile.
“More.” You said making his eyes shoot up, brows raised. You leaned forward, sitting up, legs on either side of his body as you tugged his hair back so he can look up at you. “I want you baby.” You said making Tom smile widely, his arms wrapping under your legs, as he leaned up more to kiss you.
“So can I fuck you?” He said in your mouth. “Really wanna fuck you y/n/n.” He said as you moaned.
“Yea Tom, fuck me.” You said moving back to slide his suspenders off. Tom was smiling as he stood up, pushing you back slightly on the bed, but before you can close your legs, he opened them again. “Keep em spread for me darling, love the view.” He said his eyes going from your face, to your breasts, to your pussy, open and dripping. You watched as Tom struggled to get his belt off the firefighter pants.
“Do you need some help?” You said chuckling slightly. And you were going to help until Tom shook his head.
“It’s okay I got it I got it, just, wanna touch yourself for me?” He said smiling when your cheeks turned pink. “Cmon I know you touch yourself, I mean I’ve heard you touch yourself.” He said smiling when your mouth fell agape.
“When?” You said, your pussy clenching slightly knowing that Toms heard you touch yourself.
“Many times, like last week, came over to drop somethin off, heard you moaning and when you came out you were sweating and there wasn’t anyone with you. Those moans got me off for days after.” He said smirking palming his hard cock still trying to get the pants off. “Now cmon, let me see those fingers on your pussy.” He said.
You didn’t answer only bringing a hand to your breasts and start pinching. Tom bit his lip as he watched your hands go down your body until you were massaging your clit.
“Fuck Tommy.” You moaned, Tom smiling at your words. “Talk baby, wanna hear you.” You said to Tom, as you continued to massage your clit. Tom licked his lips, getting annoyed with the stupid firefighter pants but listening.
“Your doing good angel, now spread those legs out more and get your finger in.” He said smiling when you listened and did as he said. Your moans were light, your eyes locked on Tom as he bit his lip and you slipped in a second finger. “So wet.” He said hearing the sounds of your arousal as your fingers moved. He finally got the belt off. “Cmon baby you can put a third finger in there.” He said tugging the pants down, giving you a view of how strained his cock was agaisnt the briefs.
“Ah ah ah—“ your moans started to rise once adding another finger, Tom squeezed his cock through the briefs, you could see the wet patch at the end.
“Keep going lovey, lick my hand.” He said and you did as he said, licking his hand that was in front of you, and watching his briefs fall to the floor and his cock spring free. It was so fucking hard, the head pink, the veins popping and his hand wet with your saliva pumping it and watching you moan.
“Oh fuck—gonna cum?” He said, slowing his movements waiting for your to cum. You nodded moving your fingers faster. “Can I help?” He said seeing you struggle slightly.
“Yes-Yea please.” You said, Tom was smiling, taking his hands away from his cock, and putting a hand on your wrist to help your movement as his thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit, and soon you were coming while he tugged on your nipples with his mouth.
“Fuck three times baby, and my dick isn’t even inside you yet.” He said smiling, and pulling your fingers out. You were breathing harshly, your body sweaty, but Tom only saw you glowing. “You wet enough?” He said, kissing your lips. You nodded, feeling Tom take your hand still covered in your arousal and place it on his cock.
“So hard.” You said smiling and wrapping your hand around him getting his dick wet for you. He moaned dropping his head against your shoulder.
“C-can’t wait to fell you up.” He grunted, as you pressed his tip against your clit causing you to buck your hips. He soon removed your hands away from him and moving your hands up, so you can wrap them around his head. He rubbed his cock agaisnt your wet core, pushing his tip in slightly.
“Please Tommy.” You moaned, opening your legs wider.
“I got you babygirl, gonna stretch you out.” He said pushing in more, smiling when your hands held his shoulders tighter. He was breathing hard, feeling his cock going inside you.
“Feels so good.” You moaned, feeling Tom go deeper and deeper until he sighed bottoming out. Tom waited for your to adjust until you bucked up telling him to move. And he did, pushing himself up so he can see your face and pull back. He pushed back in dreadfully slow. You moaned loudly, arching your back, and letting him continue. Tom took his time. If this wasn’t the best moment ever, he didn’t what was.
“So tight, and wet.” He moaned biting his lip, feeling you lick up his throat, your scent surrounding him and making him moan. “Your amazing.” He moaned, not being able to hold that back. You smile, your hand tangling in his hair. Tom soon started to pick up speed, his pelvis meeting yours with each thrust.
“Taking me so well.” He moaned, kissing your cheek repeatedly, and lifting your leg up on his shoulder to open you more. You moaned loudly, and Tom felt himself hit you deeper causing you to scream. “Right there?” He said with smirk.
“Y-Yes! Right there!” You moaned as he continued to hit it. Tom licking his lips looking down to see his cock disappear into you, making him twitch.
“Y/n/n.” Tom moaned closing his eyes and opening up, struggling not to cum. But you felt so good. “Y/n/n, baby, you close, I need you to cum, need your pussy to cum.” He moaned, sucking on your collarbone.
“K-keep going.” You said scratching his back. Tom went faster, bringing a hand to rub your clit. “I-I’m close!” You moaned.
“Me too, baby.” He groaned, wanting you to cum. “Let go, cmon y/n/n, cum all over my cock.” He said into your ear causing you to scream his name, and you were cumming. And just as your walls tightened around him, had him cumming.
He collapsed on top of you. Hugging you tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You sighed, coming down from your high. You let your hand, smooth out his hair, calming him down. Making him exhale, his soft cock still inside you.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled against your skin, making your brows furrow.
“Why?” You said, kissing his temple.
“For this, for ruining our friendship.” He said, kissing your neck, his arms wrapped around your tighter.
“Well you gave me the chance to leave, I didn’t, so I wanted this too.” You said, making Tom shift slightly, rubbing inside you. “I think about you too, yes you’ll always be my best friend Tom, but i wanna try this out.” You said causing Tom to lift his head. “Wanna try being more than friends.” You said smiling when you saw his goofy smile.
“Really?” He said, rubbing his nose agaisnt yours. You nodded your head, smiling as Tom kissed your lips. “It’s not just cuz of the sex right?” He said pulling back.
“That’s some of it.” You said seeing his mouth fall agape. “I’m kidding, I like you Tommy, your dick is just a bonus.” You said, purposely squeezing him causing him to groan, and drop his head slightly. “And who knew you were such a talker.”
“Sorry.” He mumbled, making you chuckle.
“No I liked it. It was hot.” You said, licking his jaw making him sigh in pleasure.
“Your warm.” He admitted, making you smile.
A/N: this was dirty dirty, like damn bro didn’t know I could make it like that hehe :)
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starktonyx · a year ago
Sneaky (Peter Parker x reader) - smut!
Tumblr media
Word count: 2.1k
Description: Peter couldn’t stop eye fucking you during lunch break which ended up with you actually fucking in a classroom, almost getting caught.
Note: Alright ever since I saw this gif I got this idea because damn the way he licks his lip ... anyway enjoy! 
Part 2
Peter was going through a hard time at the moment.
The school was preparing for the senior prom, and you were one of the volunteers to help spread the info and hang decorations. He was looking at you from his table across the school cafeteria as you helped tape some posters on the wall.
To be fair, at first he was just admiring the way his girlfriend smiled and helped others, but when his eyes drifted off to your outfit he couldn't help the bulge growing in his pants.
You were wearing a button up white blouse that clung your torso perfectly and Peter wished he could unbutton the tight material to get a peek of that sweet chest of yours. His eyes trailed further down your body and now he focused on your baby pink skirt, and holy shit how the fabric hugged your perfect ass, all Peter could think about was how many times his dick buried in it. He couldn't help but keep shamelessly roaming his eyes through your body, biting his bottom lip at the thought of lifting that skirt to smack your ass.
He didn't understand the sudden arousal, I mean yes your outfit was pretty hot today but Peter never really felt the need to fuck his girlfriend in the plain light of day in the middle of school before. He guessed it had something to do with you guys not being intimate for a while – well, not exactly you guys had sex like two days ago.
Alright there was no excuse, he was just horny.
He suddenly stood up from his table, trying to somehow fix the tight fabric of his pants around the crotch area. He got out his phone to text you when MJ's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Peter! Where are you going? We need some help with these posters" She said, squinting her eyes at him.
His phone almost fell from his shaking hands as he was caught with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. He tried to play it cool by leaning on the table and intertwining his hands in front of him, trying to hide his – very noticeable – hard on.
"I'm uhh ... I was going to one to look for more posters to hang, Y/n asked me to do it" He blatantly lied.
"Alright sure" She replied with a suspicious tone, aware of his weird behavior but decided to let it pass since he always acted weird.
"Actually, thinking about it I'll help you with a few of these on my way there" Peter said as he took a couple of posters from her hands and instantly hid his lower body behind them.
"Whatever" She rolled her eyes before finally leaving the horny boy alone to find a room to please his needs.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you smiled when a message with Peter's name appeared on the screen.
"Meet me at the media classroom, now"
Your smile immediately turned into a frown when you read it. Was he okay? Was something wrong? You asked yourself as you hurriedly excused yourself and sprinted towards the classroom. When you finally arrived, the door quickly opened revealing a bewildered Peter Parker.
"Peter are you okay? What are yo– ah" You let out a yelp when he threw a web in your direction and pulled you into the room before closing the door behind you.
You collided with his body as he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and started kissing you, but confused you put your hands on his shoulders to push him back.
"Babe I need you" Peter complained and pouted his lips, never loosening his grip on you.
"Peter, I thought this was an emergency" You sighed worried.
"This is an emergency" He protested, letting go of your body to walk a few steps backs to point at his erection.
"Oh– oh my god Pete" You stared at it with wide eyes before bringing a hand to cover your laughs.
"It's not funny" He whined rolling his eyes. "Please help me?" He asked in an innocent voice before smirking.
"H-here? Pete we are on lunch break right now, what if someone catches us?" You unsurely replied crossing your arms.
"Everyone is in the cafeteria or focused on the prom decorations and ..." He explained and walked towards the door to lock it. "They can't even come in here"
You were still a little unsure, but hell, sneaky sex with your boyfriend sounded very appealing at the moment. So without thinking much about it, you nodded your head and he didn't take long to wrap your body once again.
This time he lifted your body from the floor and sat you in one of the large tables, you wrapped your legs around his torso and started playing with his hair as he trailed wet kisses down your neck.
"Umm baby" You moaned in his ear trying to keep it low, but damn his kisses were magical.
"God, you don't know how much I want you right now" He admitted, he had missed his girl's moans.
He stared unbuttoning half of your shirt to have a better access to your boobs, pulling one out of your bra to shamelessly start sucking on it. Your mouth was wide open but you only let out silent whimpers as the wetness on your panties increased, you slipped your hand under his jeans and boxers, smirking when you felt him moan on your nipple. You started massaging his length inside his boxers, to which he couldn't concentrate longer on your boob and you almost complained when Peter's mouth left your nipple.
"I'm sorry baby girl, we don't have much time" He apologized and you nodded understanding.
You pushed Peter back for a second to get off the table and turn around, bending over the table and wiggling your ass, winking an eye to him.
You knew what this skirt did to him.
"Damn Y/n" He huskily said bitting his lower lip, almost immediately unzipping his jeans to lower his boxers, the fabric falling at his knees, freeing his hard member. He quickly covered it with a condom, before focusing back on you again.
He bunched up your skirt to your waist to have a clear visual of your ass and immediately smacked it, making you muffle a scream.
"Fuck, just do it Pete– oh" You moaned loudly when Peter slammed into you with no warning, gripping the table harshly when he began thrusting in and out.
"Y/n, you feel so good baby" He groaned smacking your ass once again, his head hanging backwards from the pleasure he felt.
You weren't able to control the loud moans that came out of your mouth any longer, his hands were gripping your hips tightly as he desperately buried his dick on your throbbing pussy.
"Yes yes ... don't stop Peter" You begged as his member filled you up, you couldn't believe minutes ago you were refusing to do it, while now you just pleaded to be fucked by your boyfriend.
Peter senses were going crazy, you looked so hot leaning in that table with your clothes all bunched up for him and only him, your butt already red from the smacks he gave you. Peter couldn't keep himself from groaning, admiring the view of his dick disappearing between your wet folds.
He suddenly felt the hairs on his arms go up and his whole body shake, but something was off, he wasn't going to cum yet.
It was his spidey sense.
"Peter wha–" You turned around when he suddenly stopped his thrusts, he immediately hugged your body and put one hand on your mouth, indicating you with the other to hear something.
You couldn't hear anything but Peter's enhanced audibility allowed him to hear voices coming to the door and you instantly panicked when you saw the doorknob move.
"It's okay the door is locked" Peter whispered, you just nodded still nervous.
"Dude the door is locked" You could hear someone's voice from behind the door.
"Here, Mr. Harrington gave me the key"
You both widened your eyes and Peter immediately looked around the room, when his eyes found a closet in the back of the classroom. He quickly lifted you in his arms, you wrapped your legs around his torso as he ran towards the closet, trying not to trip with his jeans on his toes, barely getting in and closing it when the classroom door finally opened.
Still in his arms, he held you against the wall of the small closet and buried his face on the crook of your neck, as you both tried to calm your breaths down. His hands held your legs, and you bit your lip as you felt Peter's slick dick against your wet pussy, missing how minutes ago it was inside you.
Peter missed the feeling too, and he didn't know what got to him, but without thinking about it he pressed his dick into you once again, covering your mouth to prevent you from giving them away.
"Shh baby girl, don't wanna get caught" He mumbled, his hot breath tickling your neck.
He slowly began thrusting into you again, and fuck how good it felt. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head as he took his hand from your lips for a second, only to introduce his thumb in your mouth, his other hand holding all of your weight. You focused on sucking on it to keep yourself from moaning, while Peter focused on sucking on your collarbone for the same reasons, when a voice outside reminded you how you guys weren't alone.
"Where did you say the banners were?"
"In the closet, there should be two boxes"
Once again you widened your eyes but this time no one was going to take Peter's dick out of you, so instead of panicking, he just took his thumb off your mouth and turned around to web the doorknob of the closet. He did stop his movements for a moment when he felt the doorknob fidgeting, but he never got out of you.
"This door is locked too, you got a key for that?"
"Uh no ... that door doesn't have a lock"
You almost laughed at their confusion but before you could Peter attacked your lips, his tongue dominating yours immediately. He heard the footsteps getting far from the closet door so he started slowly moving inside of you again while his tongue fought with yours.
"Wait, I found the boxes"
"Alright let's go"
You finally heard the intruders getting away and shutting the door, to which you let out a moan when Peter tightened his grip on your legs and harshly slammed into you. He regained his rhythm as he fucked you against the wall, once again attacking your collarbone.
"Fuck Peter this is so hot" You slurred your words playing with his hair, sometimes pulling it when he hit that spot.
"Uhum" Peter could only mumble in agreement, enjoying the way your pussy wrapped itself around his member.
Peter started grunting in your ear, joining the sounds of his skin colliding with yours and your beautiful moans.
God, Peter never got tired of them.
"Baby I'm gonna ... I'm gonna cum" You announced when you felt the pleasure built around your body, your eyes rolling back again as you couldn't get enough of Peter's cock.
"Cum for me baby girl" He replied going faster, his fingers sinking into your skin when the grip on your legs deepened.
Peter couldn't describe the way you desperately moaned and whimpered his name in his ear as your whole body shook when you came, your gorgeous sounds making him come right after you.
He grunted as he gave his final thrusts, filling up the condom with his cum. You both breathed heavily, finally taking in what you guys just did.
"Fuck Peter, that was ..."
"Amazing yeah" Peter laughed pecking your lips. "I'm sorry if I pressed you into this"
There he was, the Peter Parker we all love and adore, apologizing for everything even after he made you feel so good.
"Are you kidding me? We should do it more often" This time you laughed as he blushed.
That bastard, he just fucked you into a wall and now he is blushing.
Peter finally left his grip from you and lowered your legs on the ground, they were still shaking from your previous orgasm. You started fixing your skirt and buttoning up your shirt as Peter did the same with his pants. You took a deep breath after realizing the doorknob was totally covered in Peter's webs.
"Peter dear, how are we getting out of here?" You softly asked to the boy fixing his hair.
He widened his eyes when he realized the webs would dissolve in a few hours, you would be there for at least a couple of hours, when a smirk replaced his bewildered expression.
"Wanna go for round two?"
Part 2
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mairights · a year ago
⟶ pulled sugar | t.h.
summary: being a sweet and welcome distraction from a very unwelcome and stressful meeting. can be taken as either mob! or ceo!tom, but i definitely took inspiration from the mob!tom concepts sent in to @fairytaleparker last night 💌
words: 1.3k
pairing: tom holland x reader
warnings: bit of anger, bit of swearing.
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“this deal was made weeks ago. i don’t understand why you’ve royally fucked it up just now.”
tom sits and seethes at the head of the table. all eyes are on him, and so many of those eyes are nervous. they don’t dare show it, not with a tug of their lips or a pinch of their foreheads, but their eyes give them away. unsure and glittering with a nervous sheen. they should be nervous; tom holland in an angry state is a nerve-wracking one indeed. he isn’t yelling, though. yet.
“sir, i’ve explained this—“
“i know damn well you have,” tom snaps, effectively cutting the man off. “and i don’t need you blabbing about it again.”
he’s not usually so harsh with the people who work for him. cold? maybe. a little closed off? yes. but he aims to treat them with a considerable level of respect. after all, there’s no point in working for someone if you’re miserable under their attitude. he believes in rationale. that is, until they piss him off so greatly as they have today. not one thing has gone as it should have, not one deal closed correctly and not one fine perfectly in place. after all, tom is a perfectionist, and combined with his irritability from being stuck working on a pre-planned day off, he’s angry.
after a significant pause, the man speaks again. “it was a mistake, sir,” he says lowly. the level of respect in his voice has dropped noticeably; he speaks with an air of sarcasm, almost. tom really hopes he’s hearing him wrong, because he’d hate to lose it before going home to you.
he leans forward in his chair, which squeaks with the slow effort. his elbows come to rest on the smooth, pristine wood before him.
“excuse me?” he says deliberately. the previous speaker’s jaw clenches. hard.
then, there’s a knock at the door. even though they don’t think much of it— perhaps a delivery or a message— everyone’s head turns toward the sound, even tom’s. when the door is pushed open before tom can answer it, surprise actually does begin to register. when tom smiles, multiple people have to hide puzzled expressions.
coming through the door is you, face sweet and non-threatening. you’re wearing one of tom’s larger sweaters, fuzzy socks, and black leggings— truly a foil to the one that gazes at you like you hung the moon. you’ve clearly just come from tom’s living quarters. you’re not a totally foreign sight; most everyone is privy to the knowledge that tom is, in fact, in a relationship. those who frequent the mansion have seen you a time or two before. no, the odd visual is how tom immediately relaxes and turns to you, frown melting into an amiable smile. his closed off, domineering position changes into one suggesting warmth and comfort. the little smile on your face widens at the sight.
“my love,” tom muses, beckoning, “what can i do for you?”
you accept his invitation to come closer. it takes a bit of gall to ignore the gazes of those who dare to keep theirs trained on you, but you don’t care very much. what you do care about his the gorgeous smile on the very, very pretty boy in front of you. once you’re close enough, tom takes your hand in his. he brings your knuckles to his lips and brushes a feather-light kiss over them. of course, your face shows how flustered you are by the action. tom only keeps staring lovingly at you; he’s overtaken.
“sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“no, angel, no need to be sorry. all’s well. just wanna know what the visit’s for.”
you chew the inside of your lip; truly, it’s a trivial visit. your problem could easily be solved with a cell phone and a little patience. however, the prospect of seeing your fiancé was too tempting to pass up. and anyway, he hardly seems to mind.
“well,” you begin slowly, “i just... wasn’t feeling very well, ‘nd i couldn’t find the tylenol. didn’t know if you knew where it was.”
tom’s brow pinches with concern. he releases your hand and gently touches his fingers to your cheek.
“why aren’t you feeling well, dove?”
“headache, kind of achey. and maybe i’m a little warm. i dunno, just thought some tylenol would help.”
tom practically pouts at you, making your heart into something less like muscle and more like pulled sugar. he twists and stretches the confection when he gently pulls your head down, beckoning with his other hand. you obey and he then presses his lips to your forehead. almost immediately, he hums in displeasure.
“mm, definitely a little feverish. have you been feeling like this all day?”
“‘kinda?’ darling,” he chides. there you go again, making him into a foil; he scolds (if you can even call it that) you so much differently than he does anyone else. you raise your eyebrows and hold his hand to your cheek.
“shoulda told me. could’ve taken care of you.”
the taffy in your chest pulls taut. “i know. ‘m sorry, lovey.”
tom’s smile returns, soft and genuine just for you.
“you’re alright, princess. don’t need to worry. but, i do think maybe it’s time i come and help you into bed, get you feeling okay again.”
nervously, your eyes skirt the room. most everyone has distracted themselves with either a device or papers before them, decidedly ignoring you. they hardly care that you’re in there, really. if anything, they’d probably be grateful to get out of this meeting, but you truly hate pulling tom away from his work if you don’t have to. this seems like such a minuscule thing to drag him away for.
“i don’t wanna be a bother,” you say quietly. your gaze drifts back to your fiancé. to some relief, he scoffs, dismissively waving a hand.
“no such possibility,” he counters.
“but... your meeting...”
tom’s eyebrows pinch together. characteristic to a confused puppy, he tilts his head to the side.
“meeting?” he inquires, “what meeting? i think we’re all quite done here.”
before his attention is even on the people sitting in front of him, they’re shuffling out of their seats. it’s only a few moments of papers rustling and chairs squeaking before everyone’s filing out. once the door shuts behind the final person in tom’s little entourage, you allow a sigh.
“you didn’t have to do that, you know.”
nonchalant, tom shrugs. whatever stress that was placed upon him during that dreadful gathering seems to have totally melted away; you swear, even the permanent worry lines in his forehead seem gone when he looks at you. and you try not to be cocky about it, either, but you’ve interrupted enough work sessions and brooding days spent cooped in his office to know the effect your presence has on him. it twists the candy in your chests into something so delicious you wish he could taste it when you kiss him.
tom pulls you down for a slow kiss, dipping into the maple sugar he swears he can taste in your lips. you think of chastising him, considering you have a fever, but then his tongue lightly swipes across your bottom lip. after that, you succumb to his affections, allowing him to pull you close and drape you across his lap. he pulls away only to breathe, but it’s all cotton-candy dreams when he gazes at you.
“i know,” he admits, “but i just missed you so much, little dove.”
like a bird in flight, your heart flutters, beating wildly against your rib cage. sugar boils and softens with each word spilling from tom’s lips; you nearly kiss them as they come. instead, you lean into his shoulder and savor the feeling of his arms around you.
“missed you too.”
you really should get up and search for the tylenol again (you weren’t lying about not feeling very well), but you can’t bring yourself to untangle yourself from tom’s warm embrace. so, you allow yourself to sink into it, to be the apple dipping into warm, sticky caramel. you stay there for far longer than appropriate, perhaps far longer than is comfortable to cuddle in an office chair, but it’s sweet all the same.
it’s a treat, truly.
tagged: @princepeteys @xxtomxo @cleopatera @quitetommy @yikes-ohman @that70sfanficwriter @melancholy-honey @thehyperactiveteen @tom-hollands-blog @babebenhardy @miraclesoflove @angelsparkers @peterplanet @lowkey-holland @neverlandparker @shullie @airwrekcuh @tomshufflepuff @megz-skillz1007 @timeofmadness @biglouche @starlightparker @neverlandparker @tokyodriift @laic2299 @maram-othman @meghan-8520xx @spxder-bxcky @em-aesthe @astrobub @di3connected @babyblueinstax @lostinspidey @lil-peterparker @peterparkersspookyguard @spicy-mango626
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hollandcrush · 6 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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spidey-sophie · 3 months ago
Red Light || Tom Holland Smut
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Pairing: Mob!Tom x Stripper!Reader (p.s. If mob!Tom isn’t your thing, you can still read this. It is never explicitly confirmed that he is a mob/criminal. Only implied once/speculated. He can be any kind of millionaire!Tom you want to imagine!)
Summary:  Every night there are a variety of customers. But this night is different. As you’re doing your usual dance routine, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while, and he is looking back at you, his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance for him and his eyes only.
Word count: 12.2k
Warnings: drinking, smoking, smut, soft!dom!tom, guided female masturbation, edging/one little orgasm denial, oral (female + male receiving), fingering, spanking, ring kink (is there even such a thing?), multiple orgasms, squirting, slight choking, mirror sex, exhibitionism, cum play + swallowing. She also sucks on his fingers a lot, but it's me, so is that even a surprise? Explicit smut - minors dni.
Notes: This is the longest and dirtiest fic I ever wrote! After a loooong break it is finally here! I had so much fun writing this story and I hope you will enjoy reading it. I feel like I talked to so many people about this fic and I want to thank everyone for supporting me! First of all, thanks to everyone who liked and reached out to me after I sent that ask to @duskholland. I had no intention of writing it, but after all the feedback, I had to do it! Biggest thank you ever goes to miss impulsive gemini aka @sinisterspidey for editing this and beta reading it! You're a boss, chlo! Another big one goes to my bday girl @worldoftom who helped me with editing and HYPED me up to finally post this. Also, lovely @hypnotized-so-mesmerized and @nowayhomeparker for jumping in with a few ideas. I hope you'll enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, I am vvvv excited to read your comments! 
♡ Ily and happy reading ♡
“Are you nervous?” Your friend and coworker Natalie asks. You’re sitting in front of the large vanity mirror, LED lights showering you with brightness. This is probably your favorite part of the night - putting your makeup on in the right places, transforming into someone else for an evening. But, no matter how much you love doing this, going up on that stage makes your heartbeat rampant. You just smile at her, trying to hide the fact that indeed you are nervous.
“You’re going to be amazing.” She tightens her arms around you, leaving a trace of her glitter on your body. You watch her as she starts removing her wig, humming to the barely audible music from the stage. You’re the newest addition to the current setup, so everyone is being especially nice to you, always asking you if everything’s okay, offering help whenever you need it.
You don’t exactly hate your job.
Sure, it isn’t something that you ever thought you’d do, but here you are, trying to smear the right amount of highlighter over your chest and shoulders. Since backstage was a bit too crowded, you put on your headphones and play the song you’re about to dance to help you relax in the process. After six months, you still get a little nervous before going on that stage. Even though your coworkers often say there’s no reason for it, customers are either too drunk or too thrilled to see you and enjoy your talent. Still, you can’t control your nerves and you need music to stay calm. And sometimes you like to go through the dance routine again before going on stage.
Yes, your dream has always been to be a dancer. You've been showing talent since you were little. Some would say that you first started dancing, and then began walking. However, when you finally started dancing professionally, you never believed that you would do it without clothes. On the pole. In a strip club.
The salary is good. Customers are mostly decent. When, in rare cases, they aren’t, you can always count on the help of the security. You see this job as something temporary, until a better opportunity arises.
The club you work in is extremely popular. The owner made quite a reputation for himself and his club, so people from all parts of London often come to visit the famous “Cherry on Top”. All of the dancers have their own ‘thing’. You’re all shiny, oily, and sexy, and yet every one of you have your own flair. Ruby, who you’re the closest with, is on stage at the moment. She’s best known for her impressive pole skills. You witness her muscular arms holding her entire body on the pole, swinging and swaying. She was the first one who accepted you into the club and offered to give you some tips about pole dancing and flirting with customers.
Once she’s done with her routine, it’s up to you. You watch her collect the money from the floor, thanking the audience and running backstage.
As she passes by you, she whispers, “show them what they came for”, before running off with a wink.
Being the only professionally-trained dancer in the current setup, you made a name for yourself fairly quickly. Everyone already knows that they can expect a great show from you. You don’t only display your body, but also your talent. Or at least that's what you tell yourself. The owner of the club recognized your talent and enthusiasm and made you his main star.
You try to always put on a great show for your audience. Every Thursday night is your night - it’s the night when you do your routine for the first time. And then, you do the same the following Friday and Saturday nights. This time, you picked a rather unconventional outfit for a strip club.
You decide to start dancing wearing a suit. Under your loose-fitted black suit, you’re wearing the tiniest pair of lingerie, with jewels and matching pasties for your breasts. Getting naked in front of an audience was a bit odd at first, but you’re used to it by now. The owner of the club has strict rules and lots of security so you and the girls always feel safe. If someone is causing trouble or tries something that you aren’t comfortable with, all you need to do is to give a quick nod to the security and that guy will be out of the club in the next few seconds.
As you’re finally getting ready to get on the stage, you wink at Tuwaine, the security guy working today. He stands next to the stage, watching carefully over all of the customers, making sure everything is right and stays right throughout the night. You walk slowly up the few stairs until you’re finally on the stage. Just a few seconds ago, Tuwaine set up a chair in the middle of the stage. It’s not unusual for you to use props while dancing, but you’ve been excited for this routine for the entire week. You spot Ruby and Natalie at the bar, giving you thumbs up and cheering for you. They never miss your performances.
The lights are off and once you hear the first beat of the song, you take your place on stage and wait for the lights to come back. You stand in the center of the stage, keeping both hands raised above your head. The chair stands next to you with one of your legs on it, while you stand firmly on the floor with the other.
With the first ray of pink and purple lights you start moving, seductively swaying your hips, but only lightly at first. At the same time, you slowly move your right hand across your left one all the way down to your shoulders. 
As soon as the lights are completely on, your movements become more noticeable, stronger and more precise. You drag your right hand over the entire length of the leg that is on the chair. You finally move and strut provocatively behind the chair and caress the back of it with your hands while checking the crowd.
The first piece of clothing you throw away is your hat and you throw it at a table where several young men are, one of them obviously having a bachelor party. You wink at him and turn back to the center of the podium.
You get out of your suit jacket and since your eyes are now finally used to the bright lights you take a moment to look a bit through the crowd. You’re so used to doing this every week, so that you don’t even miss a beat now while exploring the faces of visitors.
Your dancing consists of lots of seductive movements--grinding on the pole, provocative thrusts with your hips, and lots of you touching your body. You want the audience to imagine their hands instead of your own. You love to be in touch with your body, to use your every little move to your advantage. While other dancers usually pick popular hip hop and trap songs, your taste is a bit different. You prefer dancing to softer, slower, more sensual tunes.
There is something about all that attention that you get when you are on stage--being the only thing that the sea of watching eyes is focusing on. Controlling them with your moves. Listening to gasps, moans, and applauses every time you peel off another layer of your clothes. The thought of being their fantasy, the center of their desire, excites you.
The room’s filled with guys, and sometimes girls, too. Every night there are a variety of customers. Businessmen, tech nerds, college boys, bachelorettes, middle-aged men who bring their sons, middle-aged men who want some fun, older guys, younger guys, politicians, celebrities, but also your neighbors. This night isn’t any different.
You recognize some familiar faces, the usual customers who are there almost every night. You nod to Gary, the nice guy who brings you flowers and offers to walk you home every night after you’re done with work. He never tried anything, and he never even paid for a private booth with you. He only brings you flowers and sometimes cards for your birthday or holidays.
Just as you are about to turn around and sit on the chair, you notice the hottest guy you’ve seen in a while. He’s sitting at the table behind Gary’s, while pink, purple, and blue lights illuminate him. And he’s looking at you. Once your eyes finally lock, he gives you the cutest smile. He’s wearing a black suit with a light blue shirt underneath, slightly unbuttoned to put his perfect chest on display. You quickly turn around, trying to hide the smile that he most certainly caused. It is not unusual for you to find someone cute in the audience, but this guy is truly something else. From the moment you saw him your heart started drumming and it’s no longer in sync with music. It’s beating faster, doing it’s own thing.
You slowly take off the lower part of the suit, and the cheering of the customers becomes so loud that it emphasizes the music. You sit on the chair and turn towards them and smile as soon as you make eye contact with any of the customers. But still, your smile is most sincere when it meets his honey-colored eyes. You can't describe exactly what attracts you to him so much and why you can't look away.
Is it because of his beautiful face, piercing eyes, or lips that are twisted into the most seductive smile? Is it because of the fact that he sits so casually, and again so masculine, strong, dominant? He is not sitting alone, and there are a couple of other young men at the table with him, two of them that look so much like him and another blonde sitting closest to him. But none of them radiate the same energy as him.
You have to remind yourself, again and again, that you have to dedicate your attention to other customers and take your eyes off of him. At that moment, you are only in a white shirt, and as you reveal one of your shoulders, you hear more and more sighs from the audience. The bottom of your shirt flares enough for all of them to see your shiny pink thong. The dance floor is already flooded with money, but they keep throwing you some more.
You slowly unbutton one shirt at a time and once again look at the mystery hot guy. As you do this, your hips move to the beat of the music and the speed at which you unbutton follows the rhythm. He can't take his eyes off you, as his eyes follow your hands like a magnet. And that's why you decide to tease him. You slowly move your hands from the already unbuttoned shirt and run them along the inside of your thighs. Spreading your legs apart and running your hands painfully slowly over your heat you can see him licking his lips, eyes glued on you. It’s almost like his eyes are burning your skin way more than the blaring stage lights. 
You play with the hem of your underwear, teasing the audience, but more so teasing him. He now has a fist in front of his mouth, squeezing it tight, so tight his knuckles are turning white. As much as this teasing is fun, it is that part of the song when you go up on the pole. You get off of the chair and finally take off your shirt.
As you throw away your shirt, you stand next to the pole taking your position and get ready to hop on it. The men howl at the sight of you clasping both of your legs around the pole and grinding upwards using the strength in your upper arms. Once you get high enough, you unclasp your legs from the pole and start slowly swinging back down, holding yourself with both of your hands. 
Quickly, you hook your right leg over the pole and hold it tight with your thigh muscle, releasing both of your hands from the pole, and using all of your strength to keep yourself on the pole with just your leg muscles. It took you some time to master the art of pole dancing. You still considered yourself a beginner, but it was fun. It brought more tips.
And now, it’s time for the big move--you’re supposed to turn upside down, hook your right arm over the pole and do a split. It’s a move you kept practicing with Ruby for the past few weeks and now you finally decide to try it. Turning upside down is easy; the harder part is doing a split from this position. In that moment your eyes wander to the mystery cutie and his eyes haven’t left your body, not even for a second. As your legs start spreading apart, his head is slowly moving forward, he’s totally lost in you, watching you in awe with his mouth slightly open.
Almost perfectly synchronized with your legs, his body leans forward. When you finally do the whole split, you notice an almost proud smile on his face. Who is this man and why do you feel this way? It’s almost like you’re doing this dance only for him and his eyes only.
When you're done with the pole portion of your routine, you slide down, grinding your ass on it. You smirk at all the bills the customers keep throwing at you. You lean your back against a cold, metal pole and start grinding your ass up and down. Almost everyone in the club is cheering for you, but he’s the only one you care about, the only one you’re looking at. 
And you’re also the center of his attention. The boys around him are talking but he’s not leaving you out of his sight. He brings one of his hands to his shirt, unbuttoning it a bit more and you notice the rings he has on his fingers. You run your hands up and down your body, while grinding, imagining your hands were his and the pole behind you was his lap.
Your song is almost over, so now it's time for the grand finale. You get up from kneeling next to the pole and strut your way a bit closer to the group of excited men in the front row. You turn around, bend over a bit, and slowly run your hands over your butt cheeks. You move your hands over your hips, waist, all the way to your shoulders. With an innocent expression you turn your head around to face them as you tug your bra strap. And with a faux surprised look on your face you do the same thing with the other strap.
Everyone in the room is howling now, and you finally unclasp your bra and throw it away in the crowd. You can’t help but smile at their reaction. No matter how many nights you do this, that feeling never goes away.
You turn around to face them now, and the first person you look for is the mystery guy. His eyes are now glued to your exposed breasts, only covered by two glitter pasties. He looks up to you and genuinely smiles, with an open mouth, his tongue slightly peeking from the edge of his lips. And then he does the hottest thing you’ve seen in a while--subtly, he tilts his head a bit, and burns through you with his eyes. The right corner of his mouth twitches and moves upwards, forming a devilish smirk. He nods at you, so fast and subtle that if you blinked you would’ve missed it.
You slowly get lower until you are on all fours, face down, ass up, twerking to the sound of beat. You smile to the guys around you, but you can’t help but feel a bit sad because you can no longer see the one you care about the most. Since the song will be over in a couple of seconds, you do another split, this time on the floor, close to your audience. You pick some money from the floor and throw it all over your head.
Slowly, the lights go off and you wait for the stage lights to completely shut down on you and rush backstage, trying not to drop any tips that you collected while dancing. You try to take one last look at the mystery hot guy, but the people around you are standing up, chatting, moving around, or dancing. The little wave of sadness rushes over you and you feel a slight embarrassment in hoping that he’d be waiting for you, cheering for you, or something else.
After your performance, you quickly change into something more decent and hurry to get out to the bar for a few drinks. Or, to be completely honest, look for the curly haired guy. It’s not like you plan to do anything with him, you just want to look at him a bit more, admire his pretty face and his smile.
Unfortunately, you can’t find him. Your eyes travel from one part of the room to the other, but he is nowhere to be seen. 
“Hey, superstar!” You can hear Ruby waving at you and inviting you to join her and Natalie at the bar.
“That was so hot! I got turned on, can’t even imagine how these wankers were feeling,” you hear Natalie from behind and, judging by the way she is hanging around your neck, she’s a bit tipsy.
“Thanks, turning you on was my main intention.” You and Ruby smile at her and order your drink while listening to Natalie gushing about Tuwaine, speaking about how sexy and beautiful he is. She always does this, speaking more to herself, every night after she gets a bit drunk. They have some sort of friends with-benefits, complicated relationship, and you know way too many details about it --way more than you want.
You just roll your eyes at Natalie giving him heart eyes and whisper to Ruby, “Uhm, did you, by any case, notice a ver…”
“OMG, here he comes, I can’t talk to that arsehole right now!” Natalie practically screams near your ear and leaves the two of you confused. Once Tuwaine approaches you, her behavior suddenly becomes clear.
“What was that?” he asks, “Nevermind, Y/N, someone asked for a private booth with you. You have ten minutes to get ready. Don’t kill the messenger.”
“What? Fuck, I told the boss I want to stop doing that.” You aren’t very fond of private booths. It’s one thing to be on stage, distanced from everyone, enjoying yourself and flirting with them while dancing. You don’t even mind occasionally strolling through the audience and making small talk with the customers. But being face-to-face with a customer always makes you nervous. The rules are strict – no touching, no kissing, and absolutely, in no circumstances, any kind of sex. And you’re thankful for those rules. Every booth even has a camera installed, something else you like.
“Yeah, he knows, but this is a very important client and he asked specifically for you.” You’re left confused and drain your drink before you go get ready.
“Who is that client anyways?” You ask while coughing a bit since the shot you just drank was a bit too strong.
“Someone from the Holland family.”
“From what?” You ask, having no idea who they are talking about.
“Oh my God, THE Hollands?” Ruby almost spills her drink all over her once hears the name.
“Who are the Hollands?” You are still clueless, but from the look on Ruby’s eyes, you’re the only one in the room who doesn’t know who the Hollands are.
“I can’t believe you don’t know who they are; they own, like, all of London. No one knows how they got so rich--probably some illegal stuff involved. Dad and four sons. I had no idea they’re here. Oh my God, please be safe, they might be dangerous.”
“I’m a big girl, Ru, I can take care of myself. But thanks. If anything goes wrong, I can count on this guy anytime.” You throw your hand over Tuwaine’s shoulders. You really have a genuine friendship, and whenever it’s his shift, you feel more safe. 
“Yeah, yeah, but you better hurry up.”
“I am, I am, thanks T.” The last thing you want right now is to go and dance for some stranger, and especially not for some fishy millionaire. You’re tired and you want to spend some time with your friends and get a couple of drinks. As you walk backstage to change your clothing, you can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed over the fact that just a few minutes ago you were looking for a cute guy who watched you dancing. What were you even thinking could happen? The owner of the club is always very clear - no sleeping with customers, not even after the show. He doesn’t want any allegations or anyone to think that his girls are up for anything other than dancing.
You put a pink wig on your head and pick a baby pink lace thong and a bra with rhinestones on it and rhinestone fringes falling from the bra cups all the way down to your thighs. You add a little lacy garter on your right thigh, and opt for a pair of five inch heels. After one last look in the mirror, you finally feel pleased with the way you look, and start walking towards the area with the private booths. Just as the name `private` says, the area is separate from the rest of the club. The club has six private booths, and almost all of them are always occupied. You nod to the security guy waiting in the hall, and get inside the booth where you’re supposed to be for the next fifteen minutes.
Every booth looks the same--round room with mirrors instead of walls, bordered with leather red furniture. A mini round white dance floor with a pole is located in the middle of the room, and it’s surrounded by the red couch. The lights are dimmed, and red, black and white colors dominate the room.
At first, you can’t see the face of the guy sitting in the center of the room. You can only trace the silhouette of his spread legs. The first thing you notice is his hands, holding the glass of whiskey. There are rings on his fingers and you’re sure you’ve seen them already. Once you’re close enough and you can clearly see his face, you recognize him right away. It takes you a lot to hide your smile, but you probably didn’t do a good job hiding since the first words he tells you are.
“Were you expecting someone else?” His voice sounds even hotter than you could ever imagine, mixed with soft R&B music that is pulsating lightly in the background.
“No one other than you, baby boy.” This is a line you used a lot before, but for the first time in a while you’re actually thinking it. He chuckles at your remark, still wearing that cocky smirk on his face.
You can’t believe that you’re face to face with him now. And that you’re about to dance for his eyes only. You get up on the dance floor and now you’re standing above him. Just looking down at him turns you on so much. You start swaying your hips to the beat, not breaking eye contact with him. He brings his cigar next to his mouth and your eyes are following his every move. The way his jawline tenses while he inhales the smoke drives you crazy.
“How long have you been working here?” he asks, smoke coming out of his mouth and his voice sounding a bit raspier thanks to it.
“Six months.” Usually, you don’t answer personal questions, but there's something about him that makes you open up to him. It’s not just his looks. It’s the way he is sitting, looking, and talking to you. It makes you a bit nervous, vulnerable, but also excited.
“I used to come here more often, can’t believe I never saw you before.” 
“Well, you’re seeing a lot of me now,” you wink and turn around. He can now watch your barely covered ass, but you can still see his face on the mirrors around you. And his eyes follow your every move like he’s hypnotized.
“What are the rules now? I haven’t been here in a while.” 
“No touching, no kissing, no fucking. Just watching.” You say, as you slowly sway around the pole. 
“You can undress, right?” He asks, his eyes lingering on you.
“Yes. Do you want me to?” You grab one of your bra straps, and pray he’ll say yes.
“Not yet. Can I ask you something while you dance?” 
“Will you be honest?” You start moving up and down the pole, now facing him and your back pressed to the pole.
“Anything for you, baby boy,” you wink at him and try to seem as calm and collected as possible. Everything inside you is burning now, palms sweating and legs shaking. You still cannot believe you’re one-on-one with the most beautiful guy you ever saw. And by the glint behind his honey eyes, he is just as infatuated with you. You can feel yourself getting turned on from dancing and from him.
He sits comfortably on the huge bed. His legs are spread, and between them his hand holds a glass of whiskey. You watch the way he brings it up to his mouth, the way his lips spread and the peek of his light pink, wet tongue. You can't help but imagine how much better his tongue would feel on your ass, instead of this cold metal. 
“What’s your name?” he finally asks, once he gulps one big sip of whiskey, not even a little twitch in his eyes after swallowing the bitter beverage.
“Oh straight for the hard questions. My name is Destiny,” you smile and he smiles back. It catches you a little bit off guard how much his face softens once he smiles.
“Okay, let’s try this again. Hi, my name is Tom, what’s your name?”
“Hi Tom, my name is Cherry,” you get on all of your fours now, crawling towards him. You stop once you get to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for his next move. Tom lifts up from his seat and leans closer to you, now only inches apart from your face. All of your senses immediately focus on his perfume. He smells sharp, warm and sexy, like vanilla mixed with cigarettes. Not breaking eye contact with you, he reaches for his back pocket, takes a bill and rolls it. 
“How about now?” he asks and brings the rolled bill next to your face. Since you’re still on your fours, the only way you can get your tip is if you take it with your mouth. Slowly, you open your mouth and take the bill from his hands. While you do that, you gaze into his eyes and notice the way they get darker, more lustful as you remove the money from his fingers with your teeth.
In a split second it almost seems like he starts leaning forward, like he wants to kiss you, but you quickly hop on your knees and stand up. 
“Harmony,” you say as you pull the bill out of your mouth and hook it under the thong, “or Doll, or Spice, or…”
“Fine, fine, I get it.” He says, now sitting back like he used to. “I’m sorry if I crossed any lines, I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’ve never seen you before.” 
“Thank you, Tom. This might be your lucky night.” You try to tease him, but you’re still thinking about how sweet he seemed as he apologised. For a supposed extremely wealthy criminal millionaire, he is way too kind. And that turns you on even more.
You wrap your hands around the pole and start swinging, performing your usual routine. And for a few minutes he just sits there and watches you. For the entire time you’ve been in the booth with him, he always had his full attention on you. Tom watches your every curve, every move, every gesture. You reach to remove your bra, and with a slight nod, he gives you the approval to do so.
Once again you’re naked in front of him, his eyes leave yours and your nipples become the center of their attention. They’re so hard for him that it almost hurts. He can now clearly see how turned on he’s got you, and a smirk lingers on his face.
You tease him a bit more and run your hands over your breasts, fingers gently caressing your nipples and slightly pinching them. Tom shakes his head and whispers something to himself. The music is a bit too loud for you to decipher; the only word you can hear is “fuck”. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what you want him to do to you right now. He takes one big smoke of his cigar and runs his long fingers over his thighs, silver and gold rings shining under the low lights. The pants he wears are so tight that you can see the way every muscle on his leg flexes to the rhythm of your dancing.
Your hands travel down to your thigh and just as you grab the garter, you hear him say, “Leave that on.” And you do as he tells you.
“Do you like working here?” he asks and now you sit on the edge of the dancefloor. You spread your legs a bit, just to tease him. You’re still positioned slightly higher than him, so that his face is now on the same level as your core.
“Yes. Do you like doing whatever you do?” You decide to play his game. No matter how much your friends warned you about him, somehow you feel safe enough to ask him that.
“Actually, no. My turn now, have you ever desired a customer?” 
“Yes.” And you spread your legs a bit wider as you tell him that.
“Am I one of those customers?” Tom is once again too close to you, looking up at you with a devilish smile.
“You really want to know that?”
“I’m dying to know that,” and the smirk is now gone, he is playfully smiling at you, lighting the entire room as he does that.
“And why would you like to know that, huh? Does the thought of me getting wetter and wetter and touching myself while thinking about you turn you on?” 
“What if I tell you that it does?” He leans so close to you, you can almost feel his breath on your inner thighs. 
“In that case, my answer is maybe, but maybe not.” You enjoy playing this game with him way too much. And you are fully aware how dangerous everything is, but you just can’t stop flirting with him. The thought of him being turned on by you, the way he moves his hands over his legs, adjusting his shirt, the way his chain moves up and down as he is breathing, everything exhilarates you. You never behave like this with other customers. There was something about Tom, some magnetic force that keeps pulling you to him, from the moment you first saw him.
You can’t decide if it is his smile, his hands, his chest or the way his fingers kept holding and playing with the cigar, drawing all of your attention to them. Or maybe it’s about his innocent eyes and the fact that they are so contrary to his wicked smirk and sinful words coming out of those pretty pink lips.
You are in trouble, you can tell right away, but you love it.
“Can you do one thing for me?” he asks, finally breaking you out of your thoughts.
“Of course.”
“Can you do one of those splits like you did on the stage?” He asks so innocently, yet so demanding. 
“Yes,” you say and you spread your legs wide, sitting on the edge of the improvised dance floor waiting for his next move. He takes one big gulp of his whiskey, a little drop coming down on his chin and dripping on his bare chest. He doesn’t even bother to wipe it off, just licks the excess from his lips with his wide, pink, skilled tongue. You can't stop looking at that wet spot on his chest, traveling down to the unbuttoned area of his chest. At one point you even feel a bit jealous of that drop, since it can explore his body the way you never could.
“Show me.” Tom doesn’t have to tell you what he wants to see. It feels like you can read his body language perfectly. You do what you’re told. You grab your panties and pull them slightly to the side, exposing yourself completely in front of him. It’s surprising, even to you how wet you actually are. This never happens to you, so you can’t help but smile to yourself. As you move your panties to the side, you lightly brush your clit with your fingertips and your legs twitch. You let out a soft moan but quickly manage to keep your cool.
You are dying for him to touch you, to do anything to you, but you know damn well it’sagainst the rules. You can’t even bring him home after work, because that can put a bad reputation on the club and the last thing you want right now is to lose your job.
“You have no idea how much I want to taste you.” he mutters. The thought of him tasting you brings shivers to your spine.
“Unfortunately, if you do that I might call security.”
“And what if you don’t?” Tom answers almost mechanically, not even fully listening to you, his eyes completely lost in your pulsating cunt.
“See this little red dot on the ceiling,” you say and finally pull your panties back in their place, covering yourself. He looks up, “That’s a camera over there. So if you lay even one finger on me, the security will come bursting in here.”
“I think that is the last thing we both want, right pretty girl?” 
“So you better behave yourself, Mr. Holland.” Tom raises his eyebrow the moment he hears his last name coming out of your lips. In that moment you realize that he never actually told you his full name. You felt your heart drumming a little bit faster in your chest. You’re wondering if you crossed any lines with your last sentence. 
“Don’t you think that it’s quite unfair how you know my full name and yet I know nothing about you?” He teases, while adjusting and rolling up his sleeves a little bit. You feel an instant wave of relief mixed with joy. 
“I can’t give you my name, but I can give you a lap dance instead.” You offer, daring him with your eyes to say yes.
“Only if you want to,” and you do. You can’t even begin to explain how much you want to grind on him, feel him under you, tease him, play with him and drive him crazy. You don’t tell him anything, you just stand up and start walking towards him.
You turn around and steadily start winding your hips and getting lower, until you can feel his thighs on your heat. The only thing you’re wearing right now is a tiny pink thong, which is more than revealing. He can see everything and you decide to use that in your advantage. 
You keep switching your moves, swaying to the rhythm, leaning forward so that he could see your entire behind. Fortunately for you the room has mirrored walls so you can see his face for the entire time, even now, when you’re not facing him. He is leaning back on the bed, his eyes completely lost in your body, observing your every move. Whenever you lean forward and reveal more of your ass, you feel his thigh twitch and flex under you. And oh, does that feel good. You’re trying really hard to grind on his thigh and to do that subtly. You’re desperately trying to get some friction, some release and motion.
It’s undeniable that you’re turned on right now. You don’t even care that he can obviously tell that as well, since you can feel the wet traces you’re leaving on his thigh. The music is quietly murmuring through the speakers as you move your body perfectly in sync with the beat. Suddenly you feel something cold, a strange, sharp object running up and down your spine. At first you think it must be your nerves, but once you feel it again, you turn around to face him.
“You know I said no touching?” 
“I am not touching you, gorgeous,” Tom says and he brings his hands forward, right above your thighs. He brings the back of his hands so close to both of your thighs but his skin is not touching yours. There isn’t any skin to skin contact, the only thing touching you are his large rings. And he runs his hands like that all over your inner thighs, the cold metal making your skin melt. You feel goosebumps as you watch his hands in awe. His fingers are long, bony with a few tiny veins popping on them. As he moves you manage to notice his bruised knuckles and those make his hands looking even more captivating.
“Are those for me?” He asks and you twitch a little, you didn’t expect him to talk, you got so lost in your thoughts about his fingers on you. Inside of you.
“Sorry, what?” You ask and finally turn your whole body, straddling him completely with just a few inches between your faces.
“The wet traces you left all over my thighs? Are those for me?” 
“Yes,” you say as you watch a proud grim appearing on his face. It is too late to pull back now, even though you have no idea what he’ll do next.
He keeps his hands next to his body but you can see the way his biceps is tensing through his thin shirt. He wants to touch you just as much as you want him to do so. 
“Also, about that question you have been dying to know the answer…” you say and notice the way he furrows his eyebrows while waiting for what you have to say next, “the answer is yes.”
His eyes are now completely lost on your lips. He swipes his tongue over his pink, chapped lips and leans in. Instinctively you lean forward as well. You feel his nose brushing over yours and you close your eyes, completely forgetting where you are and that you are in a club and that he is just a customer. You pull back a little once you’re aware of that and hear him whisper on your lips. “Wait here one second for me, okay?”
You nod and stand up so that he can move. He furiously storms out of the booth, not even turning back, and you have a sinking feeling in your stomach. Did you do something wrong? Nervously waiting for him or for anyone to come back, you start walking from one corner of the room to the other. 
After what feels like forever, you grab your bra and start to untangle the little jewels and beads. Maybe you’re a fool for trusting him and revealing way too much, but you decide to get dressed and look for him. Just as you finally untangle the last bead, you can hear someone walking inside the booth.
“Hey, I was just about to…” and you can’t even finish your sentence, as he interrupts you with his lips. Crashing them into yours, finally. 
You never experienced a first kiss like this. He isn’t going slow or taking his time. He presses his lips hard on yours, not wasting any second now. Almost instantly he flicks his tongue over your lips and you part them, letting him in. The moment his tongue touches yours you can taste the alcohol mixed with mint. His tongue feels soft and warm as it eagerly glides over yours.
You’re so focused on his tongue and his lips that you haven’t even noticed that his hands are now all over your exposed back. His hands are cold, almost as cold as those rings felt on your skin. It’s such a sharp contrast between his warm tongue and his cold hands. As they trail down to your ass and squeeze it lightly you moan into his mouth. It’s almost like the sound of that moan was your call back to sanity and you pull away from him immediately.
“We can’t, I might lose my job, the owner will be so mad at me,” you blurt this all out while trying to catch your breath.
“I’m sure he won’t mind.” Tom says and you blink at him, still not fully understanding what he’s trying to tell you. You open your mouth, trying to come up with the next question and he gives you the answer before you can even ask him. “You work for me now, I just bought the club.” He doesn’t even flinch when he tells you that. You smile at first, thinking that he must be joking but the more you stare at his dead serious face the more you are convinced that he actually did buy the entire club because of you. Just for you.
“Fuck…” is the only thing you can say before you crash your lips onto his now. You can finally touch him and you do that carefully, dragging your palms over his jawline and delicately placing your fingers onto his soft hair. His hair feels so soft under your touch, almost as soft as his tongue. You still cannot believe that you’re kissing the hot guy who you were eye-fucking with just an hour ago, so you open your eyes just to make sure that this is all real. And it’s almost like he felt what you did, so he opens his eyes, too. You smile at this and break the kiss.
“What?” Tom asks, stealing a little peck while he waits for your answer.
“Nothing,” you smile, running your hands up and down his while he is holding you by your waist.
“You want this, right?”
“Yes,” you put your lips on his and moan into his mouth and bite his bottom lip. As you start kissing him again, your hands travel down to his shirt. Without breaking the kiss your fingers start working quickly to remove his shirt. Once he’s out of his shirt you can see the way his chiseled abs are moving up and down as he is breathing. You trace your finger over his chest all the way down to his abs and he leaves a small moan into your mouth.
As he breaks the kiss, he throws his shirt on the floor and starts sucking on your neck, leaving cold wet traces underneath your ear. He has no problems finding your sweet spot and sucking on it even harder. There will most definitely be a mark, but at this point, you don’t even care.
Your hands move to his zipper, but he stops you. 
“Turn around, take off your panties and bend over while you’re doing it.” He tells you sternly, and you just nod in response.
You turn around and grab the waistband of your panties and start pulling them down slowly, revealing more and more of you. They’re soaked with your wetness, and as cold air hits you down there you start clenching at nothing. You take one look at Tom and throw your panties at him. You want to catch him off guard, but he somehow manages to catch them. He doesn’t even look at them, just quickly puts them in his pocket. 
“I want you to touch yourself, just like you would later while thinking about me.” 
“And what makes you think I’d do that?” You turn around to face him and chuckle.
“I saw the way you were looking at me while you were dancing over there, princess. Also, I have this as proof,” and he points to his pocket, where he put your panties.
You spread your legs and lay on the dance floor. Taking your time, you move one of your hands slowly over your breasts. You try to maintain eye contact with him while running your fingers up and down your stomach. Almost involuntarily you start clenching and you can feel your belly tensing under your fingers. Tom looks so hot, sitting down, taking one more sip of whiskey, shirtless, the only thing he has on his upper body being his silver chain. You were naked in front of him for the majority of this evening and yet he is once again too lost in you. If you thought you had him wrapped around your fingers while you were dancing, you were wrong. Now it almost feels like you’re hypnotizing him with his movements. You can swear he even stopped breathing, waiting for you to finally start touching yourself down there.
You take a lot of time to finally get your fingertips where he wants them. You can’t help but look over at his chest, his glowy skin as you’re running your fingers over your own. Still, you’re not touching yourself, you’re just running fingers over your folds, slightly spreading them so he can have the better view of you entirely. You’re so turned on that even this slight movement gets your fingers moist.
“Rub your perfect clit for me, princess,” he says, now propped up on his elbows, eyes dark and focused.
Slowly, you start rubbing small circles over your swollen bud. From the moment you touch your over sensitive clit you start moaning. There is no way you can stand propped on your elbow now, so you lay back down and break eye contact with him for the first time that night. Yet, now you can focus more on his voice and his silent moans, mixed with your louder ones. 
You don’t want to go too fast, because then all of this will be over too soon. You tease your entrance with your index finger, just a little bit to collect your wetness and spread it over your clit, making your movements even easier. This feels so good and you don’t want to stop. You can’t slow down now, you’re too close to the edge.
“Slower, I don’t want you to cum like this.” You lift your head up to look at him. He is palming his cock through his tight pants, clearly very impatient and yet he decides to tease and torture both of you.
And you run your fingers over your clit gently and slowly. Yes, this feels good but you want his hands instead of yours. Those slim, lean and bony fingers, you want them on you, rubbing and fucking you. 
It is so hard to keep yourself calm and away from cuming. If you open your eyes you’ll see him, shirtless, with the exasperated look on his face and his chest flexing with every small breath he takes. If you close your eyes, you’ll imagine his fingers, those rings and bruised knuckles buried deep inside of you, rubbing you instead of your own.
“Put two fingers inside,” and you do as he tells you. Your fingers go inside with such ease. As you start moving them inside, the sound of wetness echoes the room. Almost instantly, your hips start bulking up, trying to squeeze your fingers even deeper. You’re hitting just the right spot and start shaking, your movements becoming sloppier and faster. 
“Are you close?” he asks.
“Fuck...yes.” You can barely answer, your words mixed with moans.
“Then stop.” It takes you a lot of willpower to stop, now that you’re so close to reaching that high. But you listen to him. You are so sensitive and close to your orgasm that it takes you a few seconds to calm down and stop shaking. Eventually, you get up on your elbows, with your legs still spread and hanging down from the edge of the dance floor.
After what seems like a century, he finally stands up and comes closer to you. Tom is smiling and bringing the glass with what’s left of his whiskey in his hand. You watch his every move and breathe fast, still trying to calm yourself down from that previous edge. He walks towards you and comes near the edge of the dance floor, between your legs.
“Open your mouth,” he asks, now standing above you. You look up at Tom and do what he tells you. You watch him as he brings his glass over your mouth and starts pouring some whiskey down on you. It tastes so bitter and warm since the ice already melted a long time ago. As much as you try to catch the most of the strong beverage with your tongue, a few drops start leaking down your chin all the way to your breasts. You gulp it down, wincing as it burns on your tongue and down your throat. He chuckles at your reaction and slowly pushes you down on your back again. 
Tom puts the glass next to you and starts kissing down your neck until he reaches your niple, covered with whiskey. He sucks on it, licking it clean. It feels so good, the way his warm tongue traces over your nipples. You’re squirming and moaning under his mouth and nothing but a few “oh my gods” and moans escapes your lips. Tom’s skilled fingers are playing with your other nipple while he is still licking your other one, making sure to lick all of the whiskey off of it. 
He takes his time on your nipples. As much as you enjoy him there, you’re burning with desire and want him to help you ease some of the tension that has been building ever since you first laid your eyes on him. Your blood pulsates in every direction, leaving you dizzy, heart beating, breathing heavy and melting under his tongue, teeth and lips on your nipples.
Finally, it feels like Tom decided to end this sweet torture and starts moving lower and lower on you. Without any intention you start buckling your hips when you feel his warm lips glading over your belly. 
“Someone’s impatient,” Tom smiles and lifts his head up. He leaves one peck on your pubic bone and completely ignores that area. That sweet place that is yearning for him so much. Instead of kissing, licking or doing anything to your swollen bud, he moves to your inner thighs. Tom leaves plenty of kisses on them, biting and marking your skin, making you his. He is breathing heavily, but his breathing can’t even match yours. Your fingers are now entangled in his curls, guiding him as he keeps sucking on your thighs. He starts moving lower and lower until your hands can’t no longer reach him.
Once you open your eyes, you prop yourself on your elbows. You watch him leaving open mouth kisses on your inner thighs and once he reaches your lacy garter he puts it between his teeth. Slowly, he begins pulling it all the way down your leg, his hot breath making your skin shiver. 
“Aren’t we supposed to be married first?” you ask him once he has you undressed completely. Tom chuckles and brings himself near to your face.
“Don’t you know that I always try to bend the rules?” you moan into his lips and he kisses you. “But, if a lady insists, I can give you one of this,” he lifts his hand up and puts it between the two of you. “I saw the way you were looking at them, you can have one.”
After giving him an ‘are you sure’ look you decide to take it. And since you’re propped on your elbows, the only way you can take the ring for yourself is if you do it with your mouth. Which is exactly what you do. You open your mouth and put his entire index finger inside while not breaking eye contact with him. You look up at Tom, with the most innocent look you could muster. He is not saying anything to you. The only thing he can do is mouth an inaudible ‘oh’ while shaking his head in disbelief. 
You wrap your lips around the base of his finger tight until you hook the cold metal ring between them. His fingers are so long, they almost make you gag. You close your eyes while you suck on his finger, pulling out the ring, sliding it over each of his knuckles. You can’t help but imagine that instead of his finger you’re sucking something else. Something bigger. You start moaning and sucking a bit harder. With a wet plop you pull the ring out and open your mouth. You put your tongue out, showing your conquest to him.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Tom says while he watches you hold the ring between both rows of your teeth and lift a hand towards your face. You study his ravenous face while you push each of your fingers through the loop, testing them out and looking for the one that perfectly fits
Finally, he kneels until his face is at the same level as your core. You spread your legs a bit more to give him easier access to your warm core. He licks one long strap, from your clit all the way down your entrance. You can feel him smirking once he feels how wet he got you and he hasn’t even touched you down there yet. 
“You taste even better than I imagined,” the vibrations as he talks that close to your clit make you shiver. Tom starts moving his tongue against your clit, flicking it so slowly and lightly, but you are already so worked up, you start jerking your hips almost immediately. He takes his time, licking long straps at first, not putting any pressure on your bud. 
Both of you moan as he starts lapping your clit with his tongue, slowly and steadily. Being too sensitive from the previous edge, you can barely hold yourself up on your elbows. He keeps licking your inner lips and occasionally slipping his tongue inside of you, fucking you with his mouth. He seems to know what he’s doing, teasing you even more like this. As soon as you start buckling your hips up, he moves his tongue from your pulsating clit to your entrance. Your moans keep getting louder every time he comes back and once again focuses on your clit.
“Will you please let me cum?” Your voice trembles with anticipation.
“Since you’re asking that nicely,” Tom smiles and kisses your lower back before going back to your heat. You’re still not used to how much his face softens when he smiles. But it’s the dark spark in his eyes that turns you on and makes your heart race even faster. It feels like he’s unravelling you with his tongue.
He flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times, before beginning to suck on it. As he does that, you roll your eyes and start breathing even harder. And it’s almost like he knows exactly what to do to you and where to pay more attention. He tries to hold you in place with one of his hands, while keeping your legs apart with others. 
You can feel your heat building in the base of your stomach, pulsating. Warmth moves all over your body, coursing through your bloodstream. Tom starts sucking harsher on your clit, pulling it between his lips. His face looks like a wet mess right now, spit and your wetness leaking down on his chin. 
“Please don’t stop doing that,” is the only thing you can say before you start falling apart under his mouth. Your hips ride the way his tongue flicks over your clit. You grab his hair with both of your hands and glide over his wet tongue, stimulating your oversensitive pussy, moaning and heavy breathing. It almost feels like a dream, this intensity of the pleasure that came over your body. Tom has to hold your stomach, just to keep you in place so you won’t ruin not even one second of this ecstasy. 
Tom helps you ride your orgasm to it’s last drop by keeping his strong, muscly tongue in place, letting you control the rhythm and ride it the way it works best for you. Curses and his name are the only things coming out of your mouth as you come down from your high. Finally, his lips leave your sweetest place and he starts kissing your stomach, nipples, all the way up to your neck. Once he reaches your lips he kisses you hard, teasing you and opening them with his tongue. Instead of kissing you back, he pulls away and whispers over your lips.
“Now get on all fours,” and you do as you're told, with your face down and ass up in the air, facing him. Even though you have your back turned on him, you can still see him if you look at any of the mirrors around you. 
 He runs his hands over your butt cheeks and playfully smacks your right cheek.
“Is this okay for you?” you nod.
“Can I go a bit harder?” Tom asks while looking at you through the mirror. You nod once again. “I need your words for this, love.”
“Yes.” And as soon as you say that you feel a slight tingling on your cheek as he has finally smacked you. Not too rough, but hard enough for you to quiver. Unexpectedly, this turns you on a lot more than you ever imagined.
“Should I stop, was this too hard?” he asks, with a genuine worry in his voice, soothing the skin where he slapped you.
“Please don’t,” you moan and feel his hand on your cheek again, slightly harder this time. It tingles, the warmth spreading from your cheek all over your lower back. He soothes your skin one more time with his fingertips. So delicately and gently. And it’s almost like those few slaps heightened your already sensitive skin and you can now feel his every movement. As he caresses your cheeks, his fingers tenderly nudge your wet entrance. 
You expect his next move, already prepared for the burning sensation but you don’t feel his hands on your ass anymore, “You sure about this?”, he asks and you look up at him in the mirror and see Tom holding a condom in his hands.
“Yes,” you moan and in that exact second you can hear him ripping the condom and positioning himself from behind. You instinctively spread your legs for him, waiting for him to enter you. Tom places one of his hands on your waist, digging his fingertips into your skin. He is moving his dick over your folds, getting him nice and wet before sliding it into you. With every little move that he makes you can feel your belly and thighs clenching.
Only a few more strokes after and Tom gently starts stretching you out with his member. It takes a few seconds for you to get used to his girth and with a loud gasp you let him know that he can start moving now. And once he starts moving it feels so good, so exciting and pleasurable. It feels so fulfilling to finally feel him inside. 
Tom takes no time before he is already balls deep inside of you. With every thrust he leaves a deep groan filled with pleasure. One of his hands is still on your hips and you can feel him slightly pushing you upwards, all the way up to his chest, still not pulling out of you. The first thing you feel once your back hits his perfectly toned chest is the way his cold chain is bouncing, caressing and sliding over your warm skin. It is almost embarrassing how turned on you are by him and everything he does. So much that even the way he wears his chain makes you so aroused.
“I want you to watch how beautiful you look while I’m so deep inside of you,” Tom whispers into your ear and as much as you enjoy having your eyes closed, you manage to open them up and see his hand wrapped around your breasts while the other one is trailing down your stomach, his lengthy fingers reaching for your clit.
Thanks to the way the mirrors are hung on every wall in the booth, you can see his movements from every angle. The way every single one of his muscles is flexing, his hips swaying once he is bottoming in and out of you. Once his fingers reach down your pulsating core and starts rubbing the pleasure becomes almost unbearable to you. You reach for his hands to get more stability and start trembling in front of him. The only thing you can see right now is the smug on his face as his merciless fingers and thrusts are making you cum so hard on him. With the loud moan you reach your high and ride it, his fingers finally slowing down but never completely stopping. 
“Fuck, gorgeous, you look like an angel,” Tom says and starts leaving warm and wet kisses on your neck and ear, still holding you tight. After a few long and slow thrusts he picks up his rhythm again, that ruthless and fast rhythm that gets you on the edge of another orgasm in no time. After a few thrusts he starts rubbing your clit once again, pressing that lovely spot of pleasure both from the inside and outside. 
The wave of pleasure comes even faster now, leaving you no time to adjust or open your eyes and focus on him. His hot breath is all over your shoulder and once you hear his voice, moaning into your ear you can’t help but let go, moaning and thrusting towards his arm this time even harder. 
“Tom, please don’t stop,” you moan a desperate cry for more, for another release, another round of pleasure. He picks up his pace and you can feel your legs trembling involuntarily next to his. The familiar surge of another orgasm makes your moans and breathing erratic. Once it finally hits you, you leave a high pitched cry and Tom pushes you down, stopping his movements, just holding you in place.
“Fuck baby, if I start moving now, I’ll cum as well,” he is not thrusting, the only movement you can now feel is his dickf throbbing while still deep inside of you. You open your eyes and look at him in the mirror. Your eyes instantly lock with his. You can see the way he smiles at you while there are a few drops of sweat traveling between his chest. 
“Cum in my mouth,” as much as you want to keep him inside of you, you also want to taste him. He pulls out of you and you immediately feel so empty while cool air brushes over your folds. Tom stands up and removes his condom while you turn around and starts licking his shaft up and down. You start sucking on it, taking it in as much as you can. Tom puts his hands on your head, but he is not forcing you towards him. He is removing the strands from your pink wig off of your face. 
You open your eyes and look up at his face, his eyes shut down and curse words coming out of his pretty pink lips. As you look in the mirror behind him, you can see the way his ass cheeks are tensing, gently fucking your mouth. That sight excites you so much. If you thought you were done after your third orgasm, you were wrong, cause you can feel the familiar pulsating feeling deep down inside of you. You reach down and start lightly pressing on your clit, not going too fast cause you don’t want to lose focus and mess with the way you’re pleasuring him.
“I’m cumming,” Tom says as warm, sharp and salty liquid fills your mouth. You keep moving your head up and down, guiding him through his pleasure. Not stopping until he backs away, trembling from pleasure. Your mouth suddenly feels so empty, even though there are still traces of him there. You tried to gulp it all down, but the thickness and saltines of his cum and the way he pulled out of your mouth so abruptly makes you spit a few drops on your chin and chest. 
"Sorry…" Tom breathes out as he tries to calm down from his orgasm. 
"No, no, it's okay…" your fingers travel down your chest to pick up a few drops of cum sliding down. Your other hand is still down there, pressing your clit and drawing out the heat you felt just a few moments while you were sucking him off.
"Wait, I'll help," Tom kneels down in front of you and picks up the traces of him from your chest. He looks around, "I need to find a tissue to wipe my fingers off," but you grab him by the hand and guide it towards your mouth. You start licking his fingers clean and his face quickly turns from surprised to turned on. He makes sure you lick them all, pushing them deeper and deeper into your mouth, until a few tears form in your eyes. It is only then that he finally notices that you've been teasing and dragging your fingers over your entrance the entire time.
"I fucked you so hard and you still want more, princess? You are insatiable." He quickly pulls his hand out of your mouth and you release a disappointed grunt. But it doesn't last long, because he slides two of his already wet fingers into your pussy. 
"Yes…" you moan as he starts picking up the pace. But Tom doesn't go fast this time. He keeps teasing you, pushing his fingers slowly, so deep inside of you and then pulling them in to rub your clit for a few glorious seconds. He repeats this motion way too many times for you to keep up. It’s almost like you’re floating. 
You are overstimulated, all of your senses focus on the pleasure he keeps giving you with his fingers. It isn't until he speeds up and starts fingering you that you finally start letting go and giving up to him completely. Tom tries to keep you in place, but your legs are trembling and you are not sure how much longer it'll be for your knees to give up.
"Is this okay?" Tom asks as you feel his long fingers gently wrapping around your neck. You nod and moan, not being able to produce any coherent word. Not quite sure is it his delightful movements on your g-spot, his voice or the way his other hand keeps pressing on the sweet spot on your neck, but in almost no time you can feel the oh-so-familiar feeling finally building up enough to explode. 
It’s like you’re in slow motion, the only thing you can feel are his fingers pressing the right spot at the right speed. A loud low growl escapes your lips as you ride the most joyous orgasm you ever felt. Wetness is dripping out of you, all over the floor and him. He kisses you breathlessly, like he never wants to let go of you. You're sure he can still taste himself on your lips, but he doesn't seem to mind. Tom looks so hungry for you, cupping your face with that same hand that was on your neck just a few moments ago. Once he stops, he mumbles a little "fuck", his forehead resting on yours.
"Let me help you clean up," you can barely speak, your voice still shaking.
"Of course not, darling, wait for me 'till I get you some towels," Tom hands you your panties from his pocket once he finally pulls his pants up. He doesn't even bother to properly button up his shirt, he just throws it over his shoulders, having his toned chest and that silver chain on display. You can't help but smile once you're on your own. You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, but you're more than excited to try it out.
Once he gets back, he immediately starts cleaning your wetness from your thighs, going thoroughly over your skin.
"It's Y/N by the way."
"It feels like we’re doing this backwards, but it’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N." Tom lifts his head up and gives you a disarming smile. 
"I figured, since you're my boss now, it's only fair that you'd know my name, y'know, to sign my paychecks and stuff like that…" you can feel the butterflies forming in your belly and there was no turning back now. 
"I know they say that the boss shouldn't have any favorites, but I think I already have one."
"I just hope you won't change your mind once you meet the others," you lift your head up and your bliss gets interrupted once you see one little dot blinking. The red light you completely forgot about. That's when you feel a sudden change in your heartbeat. "Tom, there is a camera up there!" 
"So..? I mean is that a problem?"
"Well, if there was anyone in the back office, they could've seen us!"
"I'm sure we gave them one hell of a show," you can't help but feel relieved. The way he handles things that could be a problem somehow makes you feel more attracted to him. You smirk and he starts leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs, "speaking of, wanna give them another one?"
"Right now?" You laugh and playfully mess with his curls, completely ruining his hair. Tom lifts himself up and comes near to your face. He leaves a few pecks on your lips. You part your lips and deepen the kiss. His kisses are different now. Less needy. Slower, deeper. Meaningful. 
Once he parts his lips from yours, he says "Right now."
"Well, look who is insatiable now," you say and grab his silver chain, pulling him back to you and kissing him once again. Seems like it’s going to be one long night.
Taglist: @thefallenbibliophilequote @beverlyparkerr @ladykxxx08 @devotion @dvhling @svturtles @mlmarint @lovelytholland @nehirsu @veryholland @hollandcrush
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starktonyx · a year ago
Sneaky flight (Peter Parker x reader) - smut!
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Word count: 2.6k
Description: You sneak off with Peter to fuck in the airplane bathroom.
Note: This is kind of a part 2 of Sneaky, but it can absolutely be read as a stand alone. Also I was thinking of turning this into a series, not really with a chronological plot but like different situations of the reader and Peter sneaking off places to have sex lol, so let me know if you would be interested!
You were so screwed.
You somehow managed to find yourself horny in the middle of a flight to Europe, and there were still a few hours left before you landed.
Of course this wasn't in your plans, you were supposed to spend the twelve hour flight sitting next to your boyfriend, watching movies and cuddling together, but that was not the case.
Thanks to Ned.
He was originally sitting next to you guys, but he had a crush on Betty so he wanted to sit next to her instead. He told Mr. Harrington he couldn't sit in your row because Peter had a perfume allergy and his perfume was making him sneeze.
So Mr. Harrington, being the caring person he is, moved Peter to sit next to him and you ended up sitting with MJ. At least Ned got what he wanted and now sat happily next to Betty.
MJ was really fun to be with the first few hours but she had fallen asleep first. So you tried to sleep too because you were bored, but the odds weren't in your favor as a wet dream with Peter had woken you up all sweaty and heated up.
So now you were bored and horny, and Peter wasn't there to help.
You tried not to think about the dream, but you couldn't keep the images of Peter panting and desperately thrusting into you in the airplane bathroom, and the pool between your legs only increased with the dirty thoughts.
Sometimes you hated your imagination.
You considered your options, you could sit the rest of the flight all hot and bothered or ... get yourself off. Of course not next to MJ, that was horrible to even think about. And I mean, how crazy would it be to have sex with your boyfriend on the airplane bathroom? you've seen it happen in the movies for a reason after all.
You looked around the plane, almost everyone appeared to be sleeping. You prompted yourself up your seat to see if Peter was awake, and noticed he was watching a movie. Without thinking much about it, you slowly got up from your seat, careful as to not wake up MJ, and made your way towards the bathroom.
You started pacing back and forth in the confined place, breathing heavily thinking about your next move. You decided to send Peter a nude, to get him in the mood too.
You didn't want to send him a full nude though, you just wanted to tease him. So you just lowered the neckline of your shirt with one hand and moved your bra too, only a little so he could see a bit of your nipples.
When you thought about it, this wasn't even that crazy after all, it's not the first time Peter and you sneak out of some place to have sex anyway.
Peter's phone vibrated on his pocket, he carefully took it out to not disturb Mr. Harrington, who was peacefully sleeping on his shoulder. He smiled when he saw your name on the screen, and paused the movie he was watching to read your text.
Except it wasn't a text, it was a picture of your boobs.
Peter's breath hitched when he saw the picture, immediately locking the phone to hide it in case the teacher next to him woke up and saw it. His phone vibrated again in his hand, and Peter lowered the screen brightness before unlocking it to see.
Meet me in the bathroom babe ;)
Peter didn't even think two seconds before gently taking Mr. Harrington from his shoulder, to which he moved in his sleep and leaned into the other person next to him.
One thing was clear, when Peter got a booty call, he responded immediately.
I'm right outside baby girl
You smirked when you got his reply, and opened the door for him to come in. As soon as he entered the bathroom, you attacked him with your lips, desperately running your hands under his shirt to feel his chiseled torso.
"What took you so long" you breathlessly asked into his lips, he just chuckled pushing you gently into the wall, softly pressing his body to yours when he noticed there was a large horizontal mirror behind you.
"Long? Babe I came running" He playfully retorted, not wasting time in taking your shirt off to kiss your chest.
He gracefully unclasped your bra, and began lightly nibbling on your hard nipples. You sent your head back from the pleasure, smirking at the feeling.
"Oh baby, I need you so bad" You moaned, arching your back when you felt his lips sucking on your skin, pushing his head deeper into your chest with one of your hands as you played with his hair.
"Shh darling, I'll make you feel good" He lowly said, slipping his hand under your jeans, making your hips jerk at the action. "So wet baby girl, have you been thinking about me?" He asked, teasing your slick clit with his fingers.
"I... I had a dream I–oh Peter" You couldn't help the loud moan when he slipped two fingers inside your throbbing pussy and began quickly pumping them in and out. "Do- don't stop baby boy"
Peter noticed the way you couldn't control your moans so he kissed you once again, immediately slipping his tongue in to fight with yours, keeping you from moaning louder and give them away. You separated for a moment to take off his flannel and shirt and roamed your hands on his hard abs. You kissed Peter again before eagerly unzipping his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers, his hard member flying up slapping his stomach.
Before you could take his dick on your hands, you let out a yelp when Peter turned you around so now you were facing the mirror as he kept fingering you from behind. He pressed his body on yours, and you whimpered when you felt his hard dick against your ass.
"Feel how hard you've got me Y/n" He huskily whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending tickles down your neck.
Your body began shaking under his touch, your eyes shutting down when you felt how the pleasure built up in your body as you were about to come. Peter noticed this so he slipped in a third finger, and then grabbed a fistful of your hair with his free hand to make you open your eyes.
"I want you to look at yourself when you come baby" He ordered, gently tucking on your hair so you would look straight into the mirror. "To see how beautiful you look when you come for me"
He then buried his mouth in the crook of your neck and moved his fingers faster in your already dripping pussy, finally sending you through the edge.
"Fuck Peter" You gasped loudly and moaned one last time, as you came undone under him.
You panted against the mirror, your breath clouding the material as you tried to recover yourself. Peter took this as his chance to look for a condom in his jeans on the floor, quickly remembering he didn't carry any with him, not wanting to embarrass himself when he went through the airport security.
"I don't have a condom baby" He announced sighing, but you just playfully wiggled your ass on his dick.
"It's okay, I brought some emergency pills" You reassured him, too deep into your horniness to back off now. Peter just nodded, loving your eagerness.
"Will you tell me about that dream baby?" He teasingly asked regaining his confidence, brushing the tip of his cock on your wet entrance.
"You were fucking me just like this" You replied smirking, looking at him through the mirror.
You noticed how Peter's eyes turned dark as he smirked too, tightly grabbing your hips to slam his dick into you. You let out a gasp and laid your hands flat on the mirror to support yourself, as you felt how Peter desperately picked on a rough pace.
"You feel so good baby– fuck" Peter praised, absolutely loving the way your tight pussy clenched around his cock.
His words only boosted your ego and soon you were a moaning mess with every thrust he made, Peter had to reach one of his hands up to cover your mouth.
"Remember where we are Y/n, we can't get caught baby" Peter mumbled.
You just hummed in response trying to quiet yourself down. Sneaking out of places to have sex with Peter is one of the hottest things you do in your relationship, and you loved every bit of it.
Peter slapped your ass getting you out of your thoughts, and an idea came up to you.
"P-peter" You softly called up to him, struggling to form your words when he began hitting your spot with steady thrusts. "I want to– oh fuck – I wanna ride you"
He immediately stopped his movement, you lifted your eyes to look at him through the mirror, his eyes widened in excitement.
"Fuck yeah baby" He happily agreed and you laughed at him.
You turned around finally facing him, and pushing him backwards until his legs hit the toilet, sitting down with you straddling his lap. Peter squeezed your ass in his hands, taking this as his chance to suck your breasts again, this time making sure he left some lovely marks.
"Oh baby yes" He couldn't help but groan against your chest when you sank down on his dick with no warning.
Peter threw his head back and placed his hands on your waist as you began bouncing up and down his dick. You steadily rocked your hips, tangling his hair with one hand and the other on his broad shoulder to help you fuck his length.
"Fuck, this was the best idea ever baby"
He couldn't help the moans coming out of his lips, when he admired the view in front of him. Your head hanging back as you rolled your eyes in pleasure, with your tits bouncing right in front of his face.
"Damn, how I love your dick" You praised too deep in ecstasy, your words making Peter blush and even more aroused at the same time.
You leaned yourself forward to kiss him, in  attempt to shut the moans coming from both ends, since you were almost there. You involuntarily bit his bottom lip when he suddenly lifted your waist up and bucked his hips to roughly start thrusting into you, his skin loudly colliding with yours.
"Oh my god Peter" You breathlessly panted burying your face on his neck, your pussy already tightening around his twitching cock.
"You like that baby?" He whispered grunting, lightly biting your ear.
Your bodies froze in place when you heard a voice from outside the bathroom, your eyes wide like deer caught in headlights.
"Peter are you okay? Why have you been in there for too long? Is it your perfume allergy? oh my god it's probably his allergy" You heard Mr. Harrington's worried voice, his poor soul was oblivious to the horny teenagers fucking behind the door.
You prompted yourself up to leave Peter's lap, but he stopped you holding your body down.
"I'm okay Mr. Harrington" Peter shouted to the door, signaling you to be quiet with his finger. "It's just the height, I got a little bit dizzy"
"Listen you'll be alright Peter! There's still a few hours before we land but there must be a doctor here I'll find someone" The teacher desperately reassured the boy, even though he didn't really need it.
"You don't have to I swear I'm fine, I will be out in a minute–oh"
Peter couldn't finish his sentence when you bounced on his dick again, picking up a quick pace to get yourselves off. He looked at you in amazement and you just shamelessly winked at him.
"What was that Peter? Do you need help?"
"Baby boy don't be so loud" You teasingly whispered on his ear, nibbling it playfully afterwards.
"No no no it's okay, the ... the height just screwed me up" Peter lied once again.
He struggled to keep speaking clearly, because that "height" was you, and you were screwing him so good.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut when he heard you softly moaning in his ear, his grip on your ass tightening, your beautiful sounds sending him through the edge.
"Are you sure? I think we can make them land the plane if you–"
The teacher's voice suddenly became annoying the boy, who was biting his lip hard trying to contain the grunts escaping his mouth. His cock painfully twitching between your wet folds begging for a release.
"Mr. Harrington I said I'm alright! Don't worry I– ... I'm coming" Peter couldn't help his choice of words towards the teacher, throwing his head back when the pleasure shocked through his body.
"You are? Then come for me angel" You seductively whispered.
Your intoxicating voice and words were all it took to drive Peter over the edge as he hardly came inside you, filling you up with his warm cum. Your body couldn't take it anymore as you came along with him, biting his shoulder to prevent yourself from moaning any louder.
You both panted against each other as you rode out your highs, a thin layer of sweat covering your bodies.
"I'll be waiting right outside okay? I need to check on you" Mr. Harrington's voice came through the door again.
"Yeah I'll be out in a minute, I'm just cleaning up" Peter breathlessly replied, pecking your lips one last time.
You both finally came to your senses, hurriedly getting up to get dressed. Peter passed you some toilet paper, to clean the cum sliding on your thighs. When you both were dressed again, you realized it was time to face Mr. Harrington, who waited impatiently worried outside the door.
"How am I getting out of here?" You whispered, now genuinely worried that you would get caught.
"It's okay, I'll distract him. Hide behind the door and wait until we're far away" He explained in the same tone, you just nodded doing as he said.
Peter took a deep breath before finally opening the door, careful as to not hit you with it. He smiled at the worried teacher, who abruptly embraced Peter in his arms.
"Oh thank God you're okay Peter, are you feeling better now?" He asked in a tone a mother would use for his children, you tried not to laugh.
"Yeah, so much better" The boy replied, smirking as he recalled the memories of what he had just done with you. "I ... I just need to sit down now"
Mr. Harrington nodded, finally freeing Peter from his embrace. They walked down the aisle to find their seats, that were luckily a few rows ahead of yours.
You carefully peeked your head out of the bathroom, making sure they were far enough for you to get out. A smile crept on your lips when you took the walk of shame towards your seat, enjoying the way you still felt Peter's cum falling down your – now pleased – pussy. You safely reached your row, plopping down on your seat with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"You guys are disgusting" MJ's monotone voice made you jump, a look of horror on her face.
"W-what?" You innocently asked, straightening in your seat.
"Oh come on Y/n, you went to the bathroom and minutes later Peter disappears for a suspicious amount of time" She exposed like some type of detective. "And then Peter comes back with a stupid smile on his face that looked a lot like yours now"
"It's okay I won't tell. I'll just have to wait till we land to use a clean bathroom" She said rolling her eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh at your friend's annoyance.
You rested your head on the seat, not being able to shake that stupid smile off your face thinking about the previous activity with your boyfriend. Your phone vibrated, showing a message from said spider boy.
"We're gonna have a lot of fun in this trip babe ;)"
You just smirked, fuck yeah we are.
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blissfulparker · a year ago
Not like us→fratboy!tom pt.1
Parings: fratboy!tom x reader
Warnings: pure angst
Summary: you over hear some things tom said to Harrison and it turns out your relationship has been something tom doesn’t want the rest of the world to see.
A/n: there will only be two parts to this but this was from a blurb requested by an anon and I got multiple requests to do a second part or make it into a fic so this is the extended version and also the first part! I have another frat boy tom fic this week along with ‘black beauty’ hope y’all enjoy!!
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“I don’t wanna be rude or anything it’s just’s just that people aren’t use to that type of stuff.”
It was Friday afternoon. After your last class of the week you found yourself curled up in Toms plaid comforter bed trying to cool off after a long stressful week. You were no stranger to his bed, or his room. You spent endless nights here studying, sleeping, cuddling, watching movies, the left side was your side and the right was Toms. Tom joked he slept closer to the door to protect you if anyone came in.
“I mean,’ve been dating for about What? 5 months? If you wanna break up with her just do it now, it’s just gonna suck if you wait longer.” Harrison, Toms best mate since primary school, spoke loudly.
The kitchen, the boys were talking about you in the kitchen. You were awake now, trying to fix the mess on your head and wiping off mascara that moved in your sleep. You clung onto Toms university hoodie that smelt just like him and always made your stress go away.
“I love her though, I do. I just don’t want her to get hurt you know? Guys like me aren’t supposed to date girls like her.” Toms voice broke at the beginning but stayed strong at the end.
You, they were talking about you. You who’ve been dating the infamous campus fratboy Tom holland for about five months and it started over a broken down car, Taco Bell, and mental breakdowns. It was the stupid start to a loving relationship but you and tom were almost made for each other in the strangest way. You two were polar opposites that became one when the two of you were with each other.
“I get it, she’s kinda a offense.” Harrison spoke and you now cracked the door open to hear the conversation a little bit clearer. You didn’t know if any of the other boys were downstairs and you really didn’t want to find out.
“No I understand, she is. And like that’s the thing, she’s dorky and cute and all nerdy and I’m this fratboy who can chug a whole bottle of vodka in an hour if he tried. What does that say about us? More me specifically.” You look down at the jaw strings of the hoodie and mess with them. Was it safe for you to keep listening? No. Were you going to anyways? Yes.
“I’ve got a reputation to keep up, so does she. Remember Megan? Megan is the type of girl people want to see me with. Not (y/n), but I love (y/n). That’s the thing, I love her and people are going to hate us for that.” His voice was broken but it was almost like he’s been needing to rant for awhile now. You couldn’t go out there, what would you even say?
“Have you fucked?” Harrison’s bold statement made you step back. Tom was your first, it was two months in and you were 100% ready. Tom has had sex Dozens of Times But you, you were different because this time it was for love, not for fun.
“Of course, but it’s best if no one knows. Keeps her safe. Keeps our reputations high.” The sound of a beer bottle hitting the recycling bin made you crawl back into bed. Pretend you’re asleep and act like you’ve never heard a thing.
Everything made sense though why he never wanted to post pictures on Instagram, no snapchats, you never went to the parties—not that you wanted to anyways—never got super affectionate around his friends. Why Harrison was the only one to know about the relationship.
He was ashamed of you. He was embarrassed to be in love with you.
No, you weren’t like the other girls he’s been with. Not a party animal nor a outgoing person. You were simple, nerdy, studied hard, loved to stay in, hopeless romantic. You were a girl tom always dreamed about but never thought was real, and you were perfect but he knew other people didn’t think that.
“Baby?” Tom whispered and you sat up rubbing your eyes and pretending like you just woke up. “What’s wrong?” He noticed the tears and the red eyes and flushed look in your face.
“I—it’s—my allergies, they’ve been acting up. Seasons changing are the worse.” You lied and tom wrapped his arm around your waist. How could he act like this, a loving and adoring boyfriend, when he just claimed he was ashamed of you.
“Oh, I have some medicine if you want—“ he starts and you shake your head.
“It’s best if I go back to my dorm. Alone. I think I need a full nights rest.” You sniffle as you stand up and look over to his mirror and fix yourself up.
“Oh okay, text me when you get there please.” He hands you your backpack and kisses your forehead. The kiss felt sour against your skin, his lips no longer felt soft and plump but bitter and hard.
“I will.” You give a soft, fake smile before walking out. You pass Harrison who gives you a sweet smile before you exit the door.
He was ashamed, he was ashamed, he was ashamed. That’s all that ran though your head. You weren’t like Megan, his ex who was drop dead gorgeous—she cheated on him with two different guys so you have that huge advantage of not being an asshole—but she was still what he wanted. They were perfect, the light of every party.
People like you weren’t supposed to be with people like him. Study hard, nerdy, good grades, good girls, weren’t supposed to end up with frat boys like Tom Holland. Boys like him were supposed to be with party animals and adventurous people. Not you.
Boys like him are never supposed to be with girls like you.
Saturday evening, the next day.
Books scattered across your bed as you shoved information into your brain about chemistry. Your glasses have a glare and your roommate was out for the night. Normally you’d spend your Saturdays with tom but currently you didn’t know where he was and didn’t bother to see him. You didn’t respond all day and you made sure to let him know you wanted to be alone.
Two knocks. Two knocks on your front door is what made you jump and take out your headphones.
“I’m coming!” You shouted as you hopped off the bed and jogged over to the door.
There stood tom, two bags of Chinese food and a bag from wallgreens. He wore a skin tight green Ralph Lauren polo shirt and some joggers.
“You never told me if you made it home safe.” He pouted as he walked past you.
You forgot that your Saturday nights were perfect, cuddled up in bed, eating Chinese food and having messy makeout sessions.
“Sorry, my phone was off and I fell asleep.” You lied. He set the stuff down before opening the wallgreens bag.
“I got you some more medicine, and this green smoothie thingy? I dunno, the lady said it helps clear your sinuses. I kinda looks gross I wouldn’t drink it either.” He sets it down and you watch him with folded arms.
“Don’t you have a party to attended tonight?” Your voice bitter as you talk about the frat.
“It’s overrated. Saturday’s are meant for us and I like them this way.” He sets kicks off his shoes. You were mad and you didn’t know how to handle it, so you did it in the most petty way possible.
“No, lets go to the party, what’s the theme I bet I can find something.” You walk over to your closet. Tom follows you to stop you.
“Why would we do that? You hate parties remember? Too many people. We always stay in.” He grabs your hand and you can’t help but to feel your eyes water. He was an idiot, an actual idiot that you wish wasn’t so pretty.
“Why don’t you want me at your parties?” You step back and he furrows his brows.
“Peach, What are you talking—“ He starts and you shake your head.
“You can at least invite me! An offer would be nice! But you never did, because I’m too dorky and nerdy to be around you. Or maybe it’s because I’m not like your other Ex girlfriends in the past.” You sniffle and he steps closer.
“Are you on your period? What’s happening? Who’s telling you all this?” He stands there clueless and you wipe your nose.
“You! Yesterday I woke up from my nap and I heard you and Harrison talking. ‘People Like me shouldn’t be with girls like her’ and ‘I’ve got a reputation to keep up’? What the fuck tom!” You shout at him and he steps back.
You heard all of it and it was hitting tom. He never meant any of it, not in the way you took it. He just didn’t want people teasing you, making fun of you, bullying you, he wanted to keep you safe. He was also selfish, he knew that if he took you to one of his parties you’d get taken advantage of. He would leave you for one second and you’d be gone, he can’t even think of the worse case scenario or else it would hurt him.
“You know, I know I’m not super popular nor am I this victoria secret model but I’m not embarrassed to be around you nor am I ashamed which I probably should be because smart girls can’t be with guys like you!” You say out of anger and now tom gives a look.
“Are you calling me dumb?” He asks and you walk over to your bed.
“You didn’t listen to me at all! You are the one who said all these things and that was only the stuff I heard! What else did you say, Huh? I want to know.” You wipe your eyes and he shakes his head.
“Nothing! I said nothing else! Harrison just asked me why I never post with you or why the other boys don’t know about you it’s to keep you safe! It’s only to keep you safe! The people I hang out with are not good people and I just don’t want anything bad happening to you!” His face was red and you wanted nothing more than to run out and never speak to him again.
“I’m a fucking adult I can take care of myself! You’re the one who said that people will care if they know about us. I don’t care about my reputation, Holland! I have absolutely nothing to lose, it’s you who are selfish and it’s you who still wants to be the golden boy of the circle. The one thing that I have that all those other girls don’t is fucking loyalty, and trust, and I give a shit about you! They don’t! Megan cheated on you and I would never even think of that! Sydney only used You for sex and popularity and guess what tom? I’m not doing that because I actually love you but it’s very obvious that you only care about yourself.” You grab your keys and purse which causes tom to freak out even more.
“What are you doing?” He stops you but you yank away and keep going.
“I need time to cool down, im going for a drive. When you decide what you want to do with us, come find me.” You storm off leaving tom in your dorm.
Tom fucked up. He did that a lot but most of the time he could find a simple way out of fucking up. This time he couldn’t, He was about to loose the most valuable thing in his life.
The most logical thing for him to do was not chase after you. You didn’t want him to chase after you anyways, you wanted him to figure out what he wanted not for him to beg on his knees for your love. He stormed out of your dorm as well, leaving everything he’d brought and went back to his frat house.
He couldn’t forget though that there’d be a party in about two hours, the boys were setting up and tom stormed in and ruined their mood.
“Hey! Look who showed up to help!” Yelled one of the boys, Alex.
“Hey mate, you alright?” Harrison stopped him. Bright red eyes, heavy breathing, tension in his whole body, he was pissed.
“Leave me be.” He mumbled and Harrison stopped him again. The whole frat was looking at him, even the extra friends who came to help out.
“Hey, What happened? Where’d you go?” Haz stops and tom tries to push past him.
“She heard, she fucking heard everything and all the shit—“ tom started and everyone was confused but Haz.
“(Y/n)?” Haz says and immediately everyone goes to shock.
“Woah man, you’re fucking (y/n)? Nice!” One said and Haz gave a look to the boy. The rest were confused with who you even were.
“Let me go, please.” Tom had tears back in his face and Haz let him run up into his room like a child. He didn’t know where you were and didn’t know what he’d say if he called you.
You had found yourself at the place where it all started, the place where your car broke down at 12:00am trying to get home from the library and tom just happened to be driving around that night.
“Hey, are you okay?” A thick voice pulled you out of your crying and knocked on your window. You had your hazard lights on and pulled to the side.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s just my car broke down.” You sniffle and he helped you out of the car and popped the hood.
“Can you call someone to tow it? I don’t think I can really help you here.” He asked and you nodded calling your insurance and trying to figure the most out.
“So uhh, you’ve got someone coming?” He asked and you nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, thank you.” You smile at the stranger and he stands there. “You can leave...” you trail off and he shakes his head.
“It’s midnight and it’s a college campus, not so safe to leave a pretty girl alone.” He goes to lean up against his car.
“Thanks.” You wipe your eyes and start to feel yourself cry some more. It was a really long week. Tom jumped up and came over to hold you. Comfort you, make You feel safe.
That was the start of your relationship
He helped you call someone to get it towed and offered to get you some food to help you calm down. The first time you met tom you were crying while eating a burrito from Taco Bell in the back of his car. The fratboy held you in his arms and let you cry all that you felt that day.
Now it was different. It was just you. No tom, no broken car, no Taco Bell, nothing.
Tom holland had broken your heart, how did you not see that coming? Maybe it was because you were blinded by the British charm and the white lopsided smile and floppy curly hair. Maybe if you weren’t as naïveté as other girls then you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation.
If you could go back five months ago and just stay at the library a little longer and have someone else help you, you would’ve. If you could go back and jut say thank you instead of saying yes to his dates, you just might’ve.
The last thing you wanted to feel was tom Holland’s little secret.
Some tags(because my perm tag list is too long): @thollandss @quitetommy @keepmeholland @spiderboytotherescue @delicatepeterparker @candlelightparker @klusterffucked @stormyholland @spiderboytingle
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cali-holland · a year ago
Hubby- Tom Holland One Shot
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Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader
Requested by Anonymous: Hello my love! can I get a cute request? just super cute domestic Tom and y/n. Because we all know love isn't just about the grand gestures, but the simple moments or giggling together and making faces in the mirror as you brush your teeth, him stealing a slice of veggie off the chopping board as you get dinner ready, him complaining that you like too many cushions on the bed, the little mumbled 'love you' as you both go to sleep. I'm down for reading anything like that . love your writing :)
Prompt: Tom makes even the simplest of days amazing.
Word Count: 4800
Warnings: Swearing, sexual jokes/innuendos, some pain (Tom gets hit in the balls at one point), LOTS of fluff
A/N: this is for the lovely @cunaeparker​ ‘s writing challenge, the prompt is in bold! I combined it with the request because it just went so well with all the fluff!!
Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist
*Gif is not mine*
The familiar sound of a cell phone buzzing drew you out of your deep sleep. With your eyes still closed, you cuddled closer to Tom’s chest, hoping that the phone would quit ringing soon. He shifted underneath you as he tried to reach his phone on the nightstand, but seeing as you two were tangled up on your side of the bed and there was basically a mountain of pillows on his side, he couldn’t quite grab it without moving away from you.
“Just leave it.” You mumbled, not wanting him (a.k.a. your pillow) to move.
“Love, it’s my mum.” He laughed lightly, the vibrations running through his bare chest to your cheek. He pressed a kiss to your head, before you shifted off him so he could get his phone. He picked up the call and resumed his position as your morning cuddle buddy. You wrapped an arm around his waist and laid your head back on his chest. His free hand mindlessly found its way to play with your hair.
“No, you didn’t wake us.” Tom told his mother, but the raspiness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by her. He laughed, “Okay, yes, you did.” He paused and you could hear her voice coming through the phone. Tom looked down at you for a moment, “Are we still on for the barbecue this afternoon?”
“We can be?” You answered. You both knew he obviously forgot to mention how his mother invited the two of you to a barbecue.
“Yes, mum, we’ll be there. What do you want us to bring?” He spoke back into the phone. “Vegetables? That’s not broad at all.” You lightly smacked his chest at his sarcasm, and his free hand came down to hold the hand that just hit him, “Okay, yeah we can do a salad.” There was another pause as she spoke to him before he replied, “Y/N would love to make some dessert.” Hearing him sign you up for food, you playfully glared at him. He said goodbye to his mother and tossed his phone to the side. You sat up and straddled his waist on your knees, your hands falling by his head to keep your face above his.
“Looks like we’re going grocery shopping.” Tom smiled up at you innocently, his hands resting on your hips.
“When were you going to tell me your mum invited us over?” You asked.
“Now, I guess,” He shrugged slightly. With his thumbs drawing light circles on your hips, he teasingly added, “When were you going to give me my morning kiss?”
You shrugged in return, but leaned down to kiss him nonetheless. He smiled into the kiss, moving a hand to cradle the back of your head, keeping you in place to continue kissing you.
“Your morning breath’s shit.” He laughed, pulling away from the innocent-turned-a-bit-heated kiss as you sat up straight.
“Yeah, well you have the ugliest bed head I have ever seen.” You teased, ruffling his hair. He caught your wrist, pulling your hand down to in front of his face.
“I believe this hand’s the culprit of that.” He joked, pecking your open palm.
“You weren’t complaining last night.” You shuffled off of him and got out of the bed. Walking over to your shared closet, you started to plan out a nice outfit for the day. “Come on, we gotta go grocery shopping.”
“Wanna shower together? Save time and save water?” Tom suggested, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.
“You get so horny in the morning.” You laughed.
“I’m needy, not horny.” He insisted before pressing a kiss to your neck. “We’ll be conserving water. C’mon, wifey, think of the planet.”
“Alright, go start the shower.” Both of you knew you would cave like almost every morning, but it didn’t stop him from letting out an excited cheer. He pecked your cheek and left to go warm up the water.
Once you two were showered and dressed, you went to make some bacon and eggs for breakfast while Tom made you both a morning cup of tea.
“Bacon,” You stated, holding out a piece of bacon from your spot by the stove as he fixed you some tea at the island. He leaned over and ate the bacon from your fingers.
“Tasty.” He hummed, turning back to his task.
“It’s bacon, duh.” You laughed, eating a piece of bacon yourself.
“Shit. We don’t have any more milk.” Tom sighed, looking at the blank spot in the fridge where the milk would normally sit. He looked at the two mugs of tea and the bowl of sugar on the counter; without milk, it just wouldn’t be right.
“Did you finish it off?” You asked, knowing he made himself a cup of tea late last night before you two went to bed.
“Damn it, I did.” He let out a groan.
“So we need milk.” You noted, taking out your phone to create a legitimate list for the store; it’d be too long for you to remember everything. “What do we want for dinner tomorrow?”
“Wanna try that lamb recipe you found last week?” He suggested.
“Yeah, can you check what we need for that?”
“You got it.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You’d sent him the recipe just last week, saying that it looked good and that you two should try to make it sometime. He’d never made lambchops before so he was a bit skeptical, but agreed with you nonetheless. He walked through your kitchen and pantry, searching to make sure you had all of the ingredients, while you continued to finish cooking the eggs and bacon.
“Breakfast done yet?” He asked, finishing his search.
“Yep,” You replied as you dished up the food.
“You’re the best, darling.” Tom beamed, giving you a quick kiss. You grabbed both plates while he gathered the silverware and you both sat down at the small table in your kitchen nook.
“If only we had milk.” He pouted, eating a bite of the eggs.
“Hey, you drank the rest of it.” You reminded him.
“If I remember correctly, you said it was the best cuppa I’d ever made and you drank a good half of that.” He corrected you, but you just shook your head. “Wanna make that chocolate cake for dessert? I know Harry and Sam are going to be expecting it.”
Homemade chocolate cake- your ‘signature’ dessert that all of the Holland boys loved. In fact, it was that very cake that made Tom fall in love with you. The way to his heart was truly through his stomach.
“Why isn’t Sam making anything? He’s the chef.” You laughed, thinking about how Sam was insistent on being the head chef of the family.
“I think he’s actually making bread with some sort of dip.”
“Sam’s making us bread?” Your mouth was already watering at the thought of fresh homemade bread.
“We should try making bread sometime.” Tom offered. You nodded in agreement, you’d never made bread before but it’d be interesting to attempt it with Tom.
With breakfast over, Tom started to load up the dishwasher with your plates and the frying pans while you made your way into the bathroom to start on your makeup. By the time he’d finished and come into the room, you were just about to start your mascara.
“Can I do it?” He asked, an eager smile on his face.
“Don’t poke me in the eye, Holland.” You said, trying to sound threatening. You sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread so he could stand between them. You handed him the mascara tube. He had done your mascara a couple times before (because he just really really wanted to try to do your makeup) so you trusted him to do it, for the most part. As long as he didn’t stab you somehow, then you were fine. You sat still while he applied the makeup to your lashes.
“There. Does that look good, wifey?” He stepped back enough for you to turn and look in the mirror. It was even, you had to give him props for that, but it was almost nonexistent. He was still trying to find the happy medium between applying too little and applying too much.
“You did great.” You gave him a quick kiss and hopped off the counter to full face the mirror again. You applied some more mascara on your lashes quickly and he shook his head.
“I’ll get it one day.” He stated, getting out the toothbrush as you laughed lightly at him. Tom grabbed your toothbrush and his, running them under the sink before applying toothpaste to them.
“Thank you,” You smiled as he handed you your toothbrush. 
“Can we get bananas and macadamia nuts too?” Tom asked, half muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth as he stopped brushing. You spit out the toothpaste into the sink, looking at him through the mirror.
“You want me to make banana nut bread again?” You questioned, before continuing to brush your teeth.
“It’s the best.” He nodded.
“Okay, we’ll get the stuff for it.” You reassured him. He pulled out his phone, looking at a text he’d received as you eyed him through the mirror. Even when doing something as simple as brushing his teeth, your boyfriend was just breathtaking and you felt so lucky to have him. He noticed your gaze and pulled a funny face- well, as best he could while brushing his teeth. You laughed and leaned over the sink, spitting out the mixture of toothpaste and saliva in your mouth as you coughed. If it was anyone else beside you, you would’ve been embarrassed by the unattractiveness of the scene, but it was Tom, your loving boyfriend of four years.
“God, you’re making me choke on spit.” You laughed, cleaning off your toothbrush under the faucet.
“Spitters are quitters, babe.” Tom teased you and you playfully elbowed him in the torso, causing him to yelp in surprise. You stepped aside so he could use the sink. After spitting into the sink and rinsing out his mouth, he turned to you with a cheeky grin, “I know, I know. I of all people should know you’re not a spitter.”
“Fuck off.” You rolled your eyes at him, spraying some of your perfume onto your neck. Your collection of perfume sat in the corner of the bathroom counter, right next to Tom’s own collection of cologne- ironically (but it was totally expected actually) he had more.
“By the way, my mum asked if we could host the barbecue here? Apparently my dad forgot their barbecue was broken.” He asked you as he put on cologne.
“Did you forget to tell me that too?”
“No, no, I swear she just now texted me about it.” He insisted, slipping on a watch while you put on some jewelry. The two of you maneuvering through the bathroom easily in your morning routine.
“That’s fine if we host, but that just means you’re helping me clean.” You stated.
“When do I not help you clean?” He smiled at you innocently and you narrowed your eyes at him. You both knew exactly how much he helped you clean. In all honesty, he would genuinely help you clean for a solid hour, but it was around hour 2 of cleaning that turned into a dance party for him, which turned into him distracting you from cleaning. “I can always ask if Harry could host it, but then Harrison would be there.”
“Oh no, definitely can’t handle Harrison showing up.” You sarcastically rolled your eyes. It was a running joke between the three of you that you and Harrison were competing for Tom’s attention. Harrison was like a brother to you, and there really wasn’t any competition going on, but it was still funny to joke about. “Your mum probably invited him already.”
“She probably did.” He laughed. He shoved off the numerous pillows on his side of the bed, except for the one he actually sleeps on at the head of the bed, “Do we really need that many pillows?”
“They’re comfy!” You insisted, pulling up the bottom sheet on your side as he mirrored your actions across the bed.
“I’m your pillow, you don’t even use them.”
“You’re not wrong, but we’re keeping them.” You smiled while the two of you finished making the bed.
After you two went to the grocery store (and Tom just about dropped most of the groceries while unloading them because he was carrying like ten bags between his two hands since “multiple trips are for the weak, love”), he put away the groceries while you started the laundry. While it wasn’t something his family would actually see when they came later, it’d been piling up for days and you just really needed it to get done.
“What do you want to listen to?” Tom asked as you came back into the kitchen. He sat perched on the kitchen counter with his phone in hand, small bluetooth stereo sitting beside him. Just as you opened your mouth to suggest an artist, he cut you off with a grin, “No One Direction.”
“Shawn Mendes then?” You teased, stepping between his legs.
“Nope.” He shook his head.
“Why’d you ask me then, hubby?” You laughed, taking his phone from his hands and stepping away from him.
“Hey, that’s mine!” He jumped off the counter, trying to grab his phone back.
“Too late.” You smiled as the familiar opening to “Steal My Girl” played over the speakers. You queued a few more random songs on his Spotify and handed his phone back over to him, “Now, you’re on vacuum duty.”
“You said ‘duty’.” He giggled like a schoolboy.
“Thomas,” You sighed. 
“You lined that one up for me!” He gave you a quick kiss. You shook your head at your crazy boyfriend as he wandered off to the closet where you kept the vacuum.
“Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away,” Tom shouted along to the chorus from the other room. “Couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one ‘cause she belongs to me!”
You sang along to the song while you worked on the cake. Once it was in the oven, you started on cutting the array of vegetables for the salad. You weren’t far into the process of washing and cutting the different vegetables before Tom came into the kitchen vacuum in hand.
“Do I get some?” He asked, spying the cucumber you were currently cutting up. He walked over to you, mouth open wide wanting a slice. You gave him a piece of the cucumber and he hummed in content. He cracked open the oven slightly to smell the cake baking in there, “Damn, I should wife you up, you’re great in the kitchen.”
“Uhuh,” You laughed at his comment. While you two called each other wifey/hubby and make “wife me up” jokes, neither of you really were ready for marriage and neither of you felt any pressure to get married. “I left the beaters out for you.”
Tom smiled as he grabbed one of the chocolate covered beaters, licking it like a little kid with a lollipop. The song changed to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” and your boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows at you.
“Don’t go breaking my heart,” He started singing into the beater (that had been mostly licked clean by that nice tongue of his), nodding at you encouragingly to keep singing.
“I couldn’t if I tried,” You sang back, unable to hide your smile at his antics.
“Oh honey, if I get restless,”
“Baby, you’re not that kind”
He set the beater aside to take your hands in his, pulling you in to dance with him. Your little impromptu dancing and singing party ended when the song changed and you pulled him back to the reality that was cleaning. While Tom finished vacuuming the house and cleaning the tables outside, you completed the salad and cake and cleaned the kitchen.
“Wanna watch something until my parents show up?” Tom asked you from his spot on the couch in the living room as you began to move the laundry.
“Sure, just fold these.” You said, walking into the living room. He frowned, hoping he was done with household chores. Seeing his reaction, you emptied the laundry basket of clean clothes on him.
“Hey, I’m layin’ here!” He did in his best overdramatic New Yorker impression.
“Fold the laundry, Dustin Hoffman.” You shook your head at him before leaving to finish moving the laundry around. You called back to him from the other room, “When is your family coming?”
“About twenty minutes?” Tom replied, checking his phone quickly to look at the time.
“Did you see if Haz was coming?” You asked, coming back into the room to help him fold the clothes.
“Why? You wanna see Haz that desperately?” He joked.
“Oh obviously. What’s the point of moving in with you if I can’t show off to Haz that I’m winning?” You teased. Tom threw a sock at you, shaking his head with a laugh. 
“Yeah, Harry said he’s coming. We’ve got an even number for football now.” He smiled, ready to play against his brothers.
“I’m so going to kick your ass after what happened last time.” You stated.
“Darling, you know that was an accident.” Tom insisted, still feeling a bit guilty about the incident. Last time you were playing football with him, his brothers, and Harrison, he accidentally kicked the ball in your face while you were even on the same team. Luckily, there was no mark, but Tom was even clingier than usual as he felt incredibly guilty about it. It occurred a month ago and you were ready for payback.
“I’m just teasing.” You smiled, leaning over the pile of laundry to give him a kiss. The two of you worked silently on finishing up folding the clothes until Tom’s eyes landed on your lacy black underwear, cheekily smiling at you while he held it up.
“Your boyfriend must be so lucky to see you in this.”
“Oh those? Didn’t buy ‘em for him.” You teased, taking the underwear from his hands and putting it aside. Tom’s hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you into his lap.
“I’m so lucky to have you. You’re my favorite person.” He said as you rested your forehead against his.
“You’re my favorite person, too.” Your hands rested at the back of his neck as you leaned in to kiss him. With your fingers scratching the nape of his neck lightly as they played with his hair there and his hands bringing you even more tightly against him, you two started to get caught up in the moment; nothing lustful, just passionate and romantic. You broke the kiss, your nose resting against his as you looked into his eyes, both of you a bit breathless.
You jumped hearing the doorbell ring. His family was here, and that meant the laundry needed to be off the couch and hidden in your room. As Tom went to answer the door, you hurried to move the laundry to your room, quickly folding the last few articles of clothing.
“Smells clean in here, must be Y/N.” Sam teased his older brother as he walked into the house with Tessa at his feet. He held a container of the freshly baked bread while his parents and Paddy came in behind him, bringing in the uncooked main course. Tom rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment, leaning down to give Tessa some well deserved love. You had lived with Tom for almost two years now, and his brothers still loved to poke fun at how organized and well-decorated his house is. Harry and Harrison trailed shortly after them, holding a ball for later and a case of beer as their contribution for the evening. You came out of the bedroom, having put the laundry away enough for now, and greeted your second family.
“Were we interrupting something?” Harrison snickered, spotting the underwear you had accidentally left on the couch.
“It’s laundry day. Get your head out of the gutter.” Tom quickly grabbed the offending undergarment and haphazardly threw it in your room before closing the door.
“Gross.” Harry gagged.
“So no sitting on the couch.” Sam laughed.
“Don’t sit anywhere then if you’re so concerned.” You smacked your boyfriend for his teasing comment that wasn’t completely untrue. Though you loved the Hollands and they loved you, you still weren’t comfortable with the sex jokes in front of his parents, that’s just never a good topic.
“Sam, that bread smells heavenly.” You told him, effectively changing the topic.
“Thank you. I tried a new recipe to make the artichoke dip to go with it.” He explained as you all moved out of the house to the outside table. He set the container of the table and opened it up so you could see (and smell even more) the bread.
You got wrapped up in a conversation with Sam and Nikki as you pet Tessa, who sat happily at your feet. Tom and his dad got the barbecue together while the other three boys started to kick around the ball on the grass.
“Wanna be on my team, wifey?” Tom asked you, walking up behind your chair and resting his head on your shoulder, letting his hands fall to your lap.
“Hell no, I told you I was getting payback.” You replied, making Sam laugh while his older brother pouted.
“Pwease?” He grabbed your hands in his, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Too late, she’s on my team.” Sam piped up, despite the fact that teams hadn’t even been discussed yet.
“We’re stealing your girl.” Harry said, kicking the ball over to Tom. You unwrapped yourself from Tom’s arms to stand up as his pout grew bigger.
“Aw, you’re breaking his heart. Does this mean I’m the favorite now?” Harrison asked with a hopeful smile. 
“Only if we win.” Tom stated, picking up the ball and walking over to the far side of the yard with Harrison and Paddy.
“So that’s a no.” You smiled at Harrison. Tom set the ball between the two teams, in the middle of the two ‘goalposts’ (a.k.a. the cones Tom set up on either side of the yard months ago).
The game began and Harrison was doing his best to block you from getting the ball (and keeping Tom from getting distracted by you). The Hollands were, of course, getting a bit more physical than regular football, kicking each other and shoving a bit, as brothers do. The game was 2-0 with you and the twins winning. When Paddy passed the ball to Harrison, you managed to swipe it from him. You sent it over to Sam and Tom basically slide tackled his brother to get it.
“That’s a foul!” You shouted as Sam landed on the grass with a soft ‘thud’.
“Nope!” Tom exclaimed, kicking the ball through Harry’s legs and into the goal. He cheered with Harrison and Paddy while you helped up Sam, who was fine and used to the physicalness of it all. This time, you started off with the ball and Harrison tried to steal it back, but you were too fast in swiftly kicking it to Harry, who Paddy was trying to block.
“Elbow him!” Tom called out, running about in front of Sam to block him.
“Tom,” Nikki said in a warning tone when he started to push Sam back a bit.
“I need to win!” He replied. Harry passed the ball back to you and you dribbled it down the makeshift field.
“Go away!” Sam shoved his older brother, trying to get him out of the way.
“Fine!” Tom huffed, running over to you. Harrison took it as a sign to go block the open twin.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” You asked your boyfriend as he attempted to kick the ball out from your feet, but your movements were too quick for him. You nutmegged him, sending the ball straight through his legs to Harry. Your perfect pass was defeated by Paddy stealing the ball from him. Before you could move to block him, Tom picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.
“Go Pads!” He cheered, holding your waist as you kicked your feet in the air.
“Tom, put me down! This is cheating!” You shouted. You felt Tom’s hand shift subtly more to your butt than your hip, making you slap his back. With you caught up with Tom, Paddy scored the goal easily.
“Hey, now, no inappropriate touching in front of the Padster.” Harry teased, seeing his brother’s hand placement.
“Shove off!” Paddy threw the ball over to his curly haired brother.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tom chuckled, setting you down.
“You’re going to regret that.” You told him, before Harry kicked the ball to signal the game was back on. Knowing his distraction would most likely not work again, Tom switched places with Harrison, going back to beating up Sam.
“Food will be done in two minutes.” Dom announced and you all knew that meant this was the speed round. The stakes were high with both teams tied. After a few minutes of Tom basically playing keep away when he finally got the ball, he kicked it over to Paddy. Harry elbowed his brother and sent the ball to you. Not even stopping it to gain control, you kicked it straight at their open goal.
It would’ve gone in and you would’ve won if Tom hadn’t jumped in the way to save it.
“Ah, fuck!” He shouted, grabbing himself while the rest of the boys grimaced and laughed. Even you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing a little at his mistake. Seeing an opportunity to make a goal with everyone paused, Sam kicked the ball in and he and Harry cheered- you won.
“Baby, you alright?” You asked, going over to Tom who was still bent over in pain.
“God, you really were going for payback.” He groaned, but nodded that he was okay.
“We won!” Sam and Harry cheered as everyone sat down around the table with Dom serving up the food.
“I’m sorry you got in the way of my glorious kick.” You told Tom, holding his hand in yours.
“Yeah, it was a really good kick.” He winced a little.
Dinner and dessert with the Hollands + Harrison (the honorary Holland) went on without any more injuries (unless you count Harry shoving a piece of cake in Paddy’s face as a joke). Goodbyes went all around as they left later, and Tom did the rest of the dishes while you cleaned outside.
“You feeling better?” You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, once you finished outside. He stopped his work at the sink.
“Better. I thought you broke it for a few minutes there.” Tom laughed, washing his hands and drying them before turning around in your arms.
“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that.” You teased, “I’d have to go find another dick until it healed.”
“Is that all I am to you? A dick appointment?” He asked with a small laugh, pulling you in closer to him by your waist.
“No, you’re my favorite person in the world.” You smiled at him tenderly as he ran a hand through your hair and rested it on your cheek.
“You’re my favorite person, too.” He leaned down to give you a soft kiss.
The romantic, sweet moment was cut short by his next teasing comment, “You know, that kick was really great. I’m still impressed. You really know your way around balls.”
“Shut up and kiss me, hubby.”
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duskholland · 4 months ago
The Sweet Spot || Tom Holland Smut
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chef!reader x actor!tom — smut.
summary ↠ life is good with sam holland as your best friend. together, you own and manage london’s newest up-and-coming restaurant: the sweet spot. it’s just an added bonus that his brother happens to be incredibly attractive... ↠ chef!reader, best friend’s brother au. warnings ↠ the general angst that comes with a forbidden romance, some swearing, a lot of food, food prep + booze, and it gets steamy. this fic is nsfw 18+ (extended smut warnings below cut), but is otherwise very gentle! word count ↠ 22.5k. a/n ↠ I watched a gordon ramsay video called ‘how to skin and debone a fish’ about twenty times in prep for this fic despite being a vegetarian lmao, pls appreciate my hard work gfdhgfhdg. this story took me a sickening amount of time to write, and I really hope you’ll like it! a huge thank you to @cali-holland​ for being a legend and editing this for me. sammy, you are my saviour, thanks for being better at grammar than me + sharing your very amusing pain-med-induced reactions with me. ily <3 +++ additional thank yous to all the anons who suggested plot points for this! I wish I could credit you better, but just know that I would’ve never written this without half the ideas that were sent in. I loved being able to integrate some of the concepts into this story, and I hope that you enjoy it! 
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut incl oral (f+m receiving), fingering (f), 69 position, protected mxf sex. the tone is very soft... a certified horny warmy if you will :’)
✧ *:・゚The Sweet Spot・゚:*✧
“Sam. Sam! How many times do I need to tell you? Stop throwing carrot peels at me!”
As you pluck a long shard of carrot from your hair, the scowl on your face is firm and unmoving. The tip of your nose scrunches up as you glare across the prep bench, your sneering eyes falling onto the culprit immediately. Your best friend’s mischievous smirk looks very out of place against the strict uniformity of his chef whites, but Sam wears it with pride.
“But it makes you look so pretty,” he teases, briefly catching his lower lip between his teeth. His freckled face lights up further as he watches you pull out a second length of peel. “I think it makes your hair look so much better than usual.”
Your eyes shift over Sam, drifting down to where his crisp toque lays on the metal bench beside him. You continue to search for something you can use in pursuit of payback, only to smirk deviously when you glance down at the countertop and spot some peel resting there. With quick actions, you throw the peel back across the counter, showering your best friend with shards of orange carrot.
“Fuck!” he exclaims, wincing. “You’re such a twat!” Sam grunts a few more curse words as he reaches up and pulls the slimy pieces of carrot from his hair, messing up his man bun in the process.
You laugh as you look back at your half-chopped onion. “Love you too.”
You smile into your onion.
For as long as you’ve known how to correctly hold a knife, Sam has been by your side. You’d met him three years ago at one of the top culinary schools in Britain after a trick of the universe had assigned you to the same workstation. Through thick and thin—and many burnt dishes—you’d grown close. When you’d graduated, neither of you had wanted to stop cooking together. So, you’d signed up for more courses, got work experience together, then started a GoFundMe...
Which brings you here: The Sweet Spot, London’s newest and most exclusive underground artisanal restaurant, run and owned in tandem between you and your best friend. It’s a dream come true.
“Mate, did you read the email I forwarded you?” Sam says, his voice clearer. You glance up at him, meeting no irritation in his eyes as he grins at you. Sam knows your sense of humour inside out, and he shares it, never a resentful person. You appreciate that you can go from exchanging witty banter one second to clearing the air the next.
“No,” you admit, smirking when he grunts. “Was it important?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have sent it to you if it wasn’t important,” he grumbles. Sam finishes chopping up his carrots before stepping towards the sink to wash his hands.
It’s Saturday afternoon, and the two of you are in the large kitchen, prepping for the long night ahead. You have other members of the kitchen staff, but it’s a small team, and before the restaurant opens each evening, you and Sam like to put aside a few hours to do the small menial tasks that take up the most time—peeling vegetables, assembling salads, making sauces. The Sweet Spot has only been open for four months, and though the initial stress of trying to ensure that every night runs perfectly has lessened, you both still want to impress the snooty connoisseurs of West London. As owners and head chefs, the responsibility falls to both of you, and it’s not something you take lightly.
“What’s that?” you say, craning your neck as you try to look at Sam’s phone screen.
“Wait, wait,” he mutters, still flicking through his emails. Sam settles at your side before tilting his screen towards you. “It’s from Far From Flavour,” he announces. “They’re coming in two months.”
You gasp. “Shut up,” you exclaim. You throw down your knife and pluck Sam’s phone from his outstretched hand. As your eyes skim the email, Sam continues to talk.
“Yeah… A weekend at the start of June. The critic will be completely anonymous, so we won’t know who they are or when exactly they’ll be here, but… At least we have a weekend blocked out.” Sam elbows your side. “This is good, right?”
You glance up at him, nipping at your lower lip with your teeth as you feel nerves settle in the pit of your stomach. “This will make or break us,” you announce. “I’m scared.”
Far From Flavour is the oldest and most prestigious critic board in London. The acclaim that comes with a 5-star rating from one of their critics is the greatest any venue could hope for, wielding the power to transform even the humblest of restaurants into a hotspot overnight. But as powerful as a positive review can be, applying for a critique and receiving a negative appraisal would be business-ending. There’s no doubt that a sub-par review would have the withering effect of destroying your wealthy upper socialite clientele who so often seem to flitter down to The Sweet Spot, leaving both of you broke and bankrupt.
You and Sam want to be taken seriously. You want your restaurant to be the best it can be, and you want to make a splash in the market so oversaturated by old money and ancient establishments. Both of you are young, and you’ve only ever been painfully reminded of that fact by the numerous obstacles you’ve faced setting up a company in your early twenties, but neither of you is willing to back down from this fight. It seems that your persistent applications have finally paid off, and the final hour of judgement will imminently be upon you.
“We’ll smash it,” Sam promises. “We’ve got ages to prepare, anyway.” He flashes you a grin so intoxicating that you find yourself mirroring it. “This is good news.”
You pass him back the phone. “Yeah,” you agree. Your hands are shaking from the blend of excitement and nerves. “Fuck.”
There’s a loud knock on the fire exit door, causing both of you to look up. The clean kitchen is empty, save for you and Sam, and the gentle music coming in through the speakers on the wall. As you hear another round of knocks, you feel your brows furrow further. Sam sighs as he walks across the kitchen, sidestepping some of the steel counters. He pauses to look back at you with a hand on the door, eyes apologetic as he grimaces.
“I’m sorry in advance for this,” he says elusively, then opens the fire exit before you have time to question him.
With intrigue painting your features, you lean forward with your hands on the cool metal countertop and watch the scene by the door play out. Sam opens the door and steps back, and a moment later, a figure appears. In the second he’s visible, you make out a bed of brown curls, a deep purple hoodie and a flash of a watch, but then the man disappears into Sam, knocking him into a tight hug.
“Fuck— Tom,” Sam moans, struggling as he’s pulled into a hug. “Ger’off!”
Realisation dawns over you, and you feel your muscles loosen as the thought that you need to go and rescue Sam from the embrace of a stranger fades. Tom is Sam’s older brother. You’ve met him a few times before, but never for long. Usually, he’s half a world away, shooting films over in America.
“Fuck off,” Tom responds. He releases Sam, and you watch as he grins widely at his brother. “I’ve been away five months. Am I not allowed to hug my brother when I see him?”
“You saw me last night, dickhead.”
Tom smirks, and you watch as he reaches up to pull at Sam’s hair. “I like this,” he comments, peering around to look at his bun. “Makes you look really cool.”
“I am cool,” Sam retorts. “Cooler than you’ll ever be.”
“Woah. Alright.” Tom steps back, and he folds his arms across his chest. As he beams at Sam, you take the opportunity to have a curious look at the man.
The brothers are similar in height, despite Tom being three years Sam’s senior. He wears the marks of classic Hollywood charm. His hair, so clearly unstyled, still lies perfectly coiffed across his head, and every line of his face seems sculpted—the bold stripe of his nose, the hard curve of his jaw. The only sign of imperfection comes in the way of his wonky eyebrow, but even that flurry of mismatched hair seems to fit well with the rest of Tom’s face. His eyes are warm, sparkling and dark as they look at his brother, and his mouth is curved into a graceful smile.
He’s handsome. Tom is very handsome.
You find yourself swallowing.
“Aren’t you going to say hi to Y/N?” Sam says. You can almost hear the smirk in his voice as he teases his brother. “God, don’t tell me you lost all your manners in America.”
Tom startles, eyebrows furrowing as he looks away from Sam. You have just enough warning to stop staring at him before he glances over at you, recognition flickering across his face as his smile turns into one of surprise.
“Oh, hi,” he says. Tom digs his hands into his back pockets as a soft blush works his way across his face. “Sorry, Y/N. I didn’t see you there.” He tentatively walks across the kitchen, eager eyes drifting across every item and surface with wide eyes. As he distractedly makes his way towards you, you’re struck with the thought that Tom has never been to your restaurant, has never seen the fruit of his brother’s hard work.
“Hi,” you greet, stepping away from the counter. Tom reaches you, giving you a slightly awkward smile before he steps closer to kiss your cheek. His lips are cool against your cheek. “I didn’t know you were back in the country.”
Tom hums as he steps back. He reaches up to run a hand through his hair, and you catch a whiff of his rich cologne. “I’m back for the foreseeable future,” he replies. His inquisitive eyes flutter across your figure, drinking in the details of your apron, then your hands, then your face. He seems preoccupied by the line of your nose, then your lips.
“Tell her what you’re doing, then,” Sam prompts, drifting back over to one of the workbenches. In the background, he starts pulling out folders of paperwork.
Tom gives you a bashful shrug. “I got cast in the West End,” he tells you, voice quieter. “I start West Side Story in eight weeks.”
“Woah,” you say, blinking a few times. You hadn’t expected that. “Who are you playing?”
You release a sound of pleasant surprise. “A lead! Congratulations!”
Tom gives you a soft smile, eyes still drifting all across your face. “How have you been, though?” he asks genuinely. “I haven’t seen you in… well, ages.” He tilts his head to the side, and you get the impression he really cares. From the limited contact you’ve had with him, you’ve gathered that Tom seems to shift the centre of his universe to orbit around whoever he’s talking with. He always seems to care, even if he doesn’t. “A year?”
You hum as you stand a little straighter. “Yeah, about a year,” you answer. “I’ve been okay, thank you.” You raise your hands and gesture at the kitchen around you. “This place has taken up most of my time.”
Tom nods. “I’ve never been before,” he admits. “That’s why I’m here, actually. Sam said he’d give me the grand tour.” Tom glances around the kitchen then crosses his arms over his chest. “Looks nice in here.”
“This is just the kitchen, knob,” Sam pipes up. You look over to him and see him pouring over a spreadsheet. “Y/N,” he adds, wincing a smile. “Do you mind showing Tom around? I need to look at these accounts. I can finish all the food prep once I’m done in payment for entertaining my darling brother.”
You glance meekly at Tom, who’s still looking at you, smiling easily. “Yeah,” you find yourself agreeing, “as long as Tom doesn’t mind sacrificing some of his time with you.”
Tom chuckles. “It’s all good, love,” he responds. “I’d rather spend time with you than him, anyway.”
Biting at your lip, you step away from the counter. “Okay.” You tug at the front of your apron before throwing it onto the counter. “Just through that door,” you instruct, pointing at the way through to the main area of the restaurant. “I’ll be through in a minute.”
Tom hums as he wanders off, curiously poking at a few blenders before he walks from the kitchen.
After washing your hands, you linger in front of one of the mirrors by the exit and fix your hair, trying to look a little more presentable. You’re in your white double-breasted coat, embroidered with your name and matching Sam’s. In front of the reflective glass, you smooth on a little lip balm, pretending to be oblivious to the way Sam rolls his eyes and huffs. You flip him off as you walk through the swinging door, your eyes adjusting to the dramatic change from the cold industrial kitchen to the warmth of your restaurant.
The Sweet Spot is beautifully decorated, with love and charm poured into every feature. The unit is tucked away in the basement of an old townhouse, and in order to access the restaurant, your guests have to walk down a twisted iron staircase. With huge windows looking up onto the street, the rest of the space is lit with bronze candelabras, a few recycled chandeliers, and an assortment of tea lights perched atop each table.
You’d gone for natural, wooden, and simple. Sam had picked a dark timber, and you’d had each one of your tables and booths shaped by a local carpenter. The chairs are low but comfortable, and the legs match the bronze of the candlesticks. All of the surfaces are tied together with a deep emerald pattern that you’d personally upholstered onto the cushions.
Lining the timber-planked walls are fragments of mirrors and photos, all toned to be consistent with your earthy colour palette. You’d gone a little mad with the hanging decorations, and suspended from various points on the ceiling are plants in woven baskets and small glinting mobiles.
Everything mixes together beautifully, and though it took a while to perfect, you think The Sweet Spot deserves a spot on every watch list in London. It’s beautiful.
“Oh, wow,” Tom mutters. He’s standing just in front of the kitchen door, looking around in awe. He glances back at you, wide-eyed, and you watch him reach up to tentatively poke one of the hanging plants. “This is amazing.”
You grin as you step forward. “Thank you,” you reply. “I’ll show you around.”
Tom hangs onto every word you speak as you take him on a short tour of the space. As you answer his interested questions about the durability of the timber and the technicalities of organising a seating chart, the air between you lightens. Your smile grows as time passes, and you feel like you’ve bonded properly when Tom ends up bouncing on the bench seats by the windows until you start laughing at him, at which point he blushes and flips you off.
“Well,” Tom finally exclaims, speaking as he flops down onto a barstool. You walk around the back of the bar, leaning up against it and watching as he sits up straight and looks all around. “I think it’s safe to say that this is my new favourite spot in the city.”
You glance away from him as you start to play around with a wine glass, the stem blown into a delicate twist. “You’ve not even tasted the food yet,” you point out, catching your lower lip between your teeth. “How can you make such a bold claim?”
Tom smirks. He drums his slender fingers over the top of the bar. “I know it,” he says, bringing a hand up to touch his chest, “I have a good feeling about this place, and I’m never wrong, darling.”
He shakes his head. “Not when I get a hunch like this.” He holds your gaze until it grows too much for you to bear. When you glance away, Tom makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “Can I get a table for tonight?”
You release a mirthless laugh. “We’re booked until May,” you tell him. You shoot him a wink as you reach across the bar for the guestbook. “But I don’t know… Maybe I’ll be able to find some room for a celebrity guest. How many people?”
Tom’s brows flex as he briefly counts on his fingers. “Uh… Three? Fuck, no. Four.” He chuckles. “Forgot about Harry.”
You snort as you flick to the right page of the book, holding the cap of the pen between your teeth as you skim down the lines. “You guys can use the reserve table,” you tell him. “9pm until closing. Does that work?”
He gives you a firm nod. “That would be glorious, love,” he announces, accent twanging prominently. Tom’s eyes glint darkly as he shoots you a charming smile, and there’s so much power behind it that you feel your heart drumming in your ears. “I can’t wait to see what all the fuss is about.”
You write Tom’s name into the book, then glance back up at him. “Well,” you say, closing the cover over with a gentle thump. “I hope you like what you find.”
Tom’s gaze softens, and he gives you a comforting nod. “I already know I will,” he says. He stands from the stool and slips his hands into the front pouch of his hoodie. “Thanks for making room for me, Y/N. I really appreciate it.”
There’s a soft smile on your face, there since the moment your best friend’s brother walked into the restaurant. You wonder if it’ll fade. It feels permanent.
“Any time.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧
The hours blur together, melded with the scent of spices, the heat of the open pans, and the bustle of the kitchen. You’re in charge tonight, running point with Sam as your sous chef.
The adrenaline rush that comes with commanding your very own team never lessens, and despite the stress of running such a tight ship, you thrive beneath the pressure. The Sweet Spot is open for dinner service only, and given the recent critic interest, it’s been busy since the opening night.
As you work, you forget about Tom and everything else. All you care about is searing your fillets to perfection and garnishing the plates with a perfect combination of sauces and salad. The devil is in the details, and you’ve always been better at the finishing touches than Sam. It’s the source of much banter and enjoyment in the kitchen, where you’re all equally sarcastic, and nothing is off-limits.
As it passes 10.30pm, things start to calm down. The restaurant is open until midnight, but from 11pm, the food service is reduced from the full kitchen to bar snacks. You step back from your workstation and pause for a drink by the sink, leaning back against the cool metal basin. You’re there when the door to the kitchen swings open.
“Y/N, Sam, we need you.” It’s Lauren, head of the front of house. Usually those words would instil you with fear, but her sparkling smile assuages your brief panic. “The Holland table wants to pass across their compliments to the chefs.”
You chuckle as you glance across the kitchen, sharing a look of amusement with Sam. Your friend is flushed and red-faced, but there’s a large grin to his face as he nods.
“Alright,” Sam says. He turns off his hob and slides his pan, full of freshly-cooked fish, onto the bench beside him, nudging the chef working at his side. “Could you finish this, Ross? The adults are busy.”
Ross mutters a few scathing words of sarcasm, and you leave the kitchen to the sounds of laughter. Relief comes with the end of a successful dinner service, especially following a busy Saturday night, and as you walk from the kitchen, you can feel yourself glowing. There’s a warmth to your skin, the product of spending so many hours doing what you love, and a resolved confidence seems to follow you around. You know your eyes are shining brighter than they usually do. With Sam jostling at your side, you feel invincible, riding the wave of a night well spent, basking in the afterglow of glory.
Lauren leads you over to one of the booths, with the upholstered emerald green benches and the smooth oval table. The volume coming from the group strikes you before anything else, and you find yourself smiling as you wince. It’s Tom, his brother Harry, and their housemates Harrison and Tuwaine. You know all of them better than Tom, and Tuwaine hollers out a fond, “Y/N! My girl, you look fire tonight,” as you approach.
You scrunch up your nose as you smile bashfully, crossing your arms loosely over your front as you take the time to look at each one of the men at the table. They’re all in semi-casual wear, their tabletop littered with wine coolers.
“Thanks, T,” you respond. “How has your evening been?”
There’s a brief cacophony of sound as each one of the men tries to speak over the others. It only ends when Tom reaches out and waves his hand through the end.
“It’s been splendid, darling,” Tom announces. He looks up at you, and you take a moment to appreciate his outfit: black t-shirt, green slacks. His hair is slicked back, and he has a Rolex hanging from his wrist. The shirt is form-fitting, and it’s hard to ignore the thick muscles of his biceps as he plants his elbows on the table. “We have eaten like kings.”
You bite your lip, trying to suppress your smile. “What did you each have?”
They go around the table, taking turns to wax poetic about the dishes they’ve consumed. Pride tickles you as you listen to them praise Sam, then you, and as it transpires, you’d been the one to cook Tom’s main. When you tell him this, he downs the rest of his red wine before sitting forward, staring at you, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“Y/N,” Tom says, voice serious. “You are the most talented person I’ve met in my life—and I have met a lot of talented people, love.” He pauses to moan, and you wonder how many bottles of wine the table has consumed. “I promise, I ate it, and… shit. You have changed my life. Every part of it was perfect. The meat… The gravy… Fuck, the potatoes too— shit.” Tom brings his index finger and thumb together as he shakes his head disbelievingly. “I am a changed man.”
Beside you, Sam snorts. You try to stay composed.
“Thank you,” you reply, voice slightly bashful. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it.”
Tom shakes his head. “I didn’t just enjoy it,” he clarifies. His eyes are intense as they meet with yours. “That was the best food I’ve eaten in my life, darling. I love you.”
Your cheeks ache from the smile. “Thank you.”
Sam speaks up from beside you. “You’re welcome,” he adds. “I did your starter, but that’s fine. Give Y/N all the praise.”
For a few minutes, you slip into easy conversation with the table, finding joy in watching the way Tom slots into the group. For so long, it’s just been you, Sam, and Tuwaine, with Harry and Harrison occasionally slipping into the mix depending on their schedules. As you watch Tom start to arm wrestle with Harry, you realise that it’s as if he’s never been away.
“We should head back,” Sam eventually says. He glances at you sadly, and you chew your lower lip as you nod. “Ease off the wine, Tom,” he adds, looking back at his brother. “Leave a big tip, too.”
You watch Tom’s expression flicker, and his eyes come back to you. “Okay,” he says. “Bye, Sam. Goodbye, Y/N.”
You raise your hand in farewell and linger at Sam’s side, following him back to the kitchen as you talk. As you start to clean the stations and the pans, he stays near you, pausing only when his phone vibrates noisily.
“Y/N,” Sam laughs. You glance up from where you’re scrubbing at a pan to raise a questioning eyebrow. “Tom just texted me to ask if you’re single.” His phone buzzes again. “Oh, uh… He also just said not to tell you that he asked.”
“Wh-What?” you mutter, eyes widening in surprise.
Sam scoffs as he stares at the screen. “I know, right? You’re my best friend.” He frowns. “That would be so weird.”
You swallow as you watch him type out a furious response, his brows furrowed. “What are you saying…?”
He sighs as he pockets his phone, then sits up on a countertop. You watch Sam undo his bun and then rake his fingers through his hair, sagging as fatigue taints his face. “That he’s bloody stupid for asking me that question.” Sam narrows his eyes as he watches you. “Wait— what was that look?”
“What look?”
“You just looked disappointed.”
You turn off the tap and stand up to face him, feeling your face heat with embarrassment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you bluff.
Sam squints, the tip of his nose scrunching up. “God,” he mutters, again carding a hand through his hair. “Ew. Ew, ew, ew—”
Sam frowns. “I just thought about you and… Tom.” He grimaces. “That would be the most disgusting thing ever.”
You release a heartless chuckle. “Uh… No?”
Sam shivers, then shakes his head. “God,” he mutters. “Please promise me you won’t get with him.” He looks at you, gaze hardening a little when you falter.
“What makes you think he’d want to get with me?” you deflect.
He pulls a face. “He literally just asked me if you’re single, Y/N. Clearly, on some level, Tom is interested in you.”
You try not to let anything show on your face. “He was just asking a question,” you say. “Stop reading into it so much, Sam. I’m sure he doesn’t like me like that.”
Sam barks out a cold laugh. “He better fucking not,” he mutters. “That would be the worst thing ever.”
You wince. With downcast eyes, you return your attention to your pan, still scuffed and grimy despite your best efforts. There’s a lump in your throat and it builds the longer you ponder the acidity in Sam’s voice.
Your friend grunts after a moment. “Y/N,” he says, tone softer.
Your best friend slips from the counter and walks back to you, settling at your side to take the pan from your hands. He gently nudges you away.
“Sorry for being a dick,” Sam murmurs. “It came out all wrong.” He shoots you a sorry look, lips sagging. “Anyone would be lucky to have you, Y/N. Even Tom.”
You crack a loose smile. “So you’d be fine with me and Tom getting together, then?” you ask, growing a little bolder to tease him.
Sam pulls a face. “Uh… not fine, but maybe I could…” he breaks off, scowl intensifying. “No,” he says after a moment. Sam shakes his head and scrubs the pan a little harder. “Tom is a no go. He’s banned. You’re both banned.”
You laugh. “I’m pretty sure your power as my best friend doesn’t extend to deciding who I can and can’t sleep with.”
“Fuck that, love, it absolutely does.” Sam’s voice rises in pitch, words coming out in a whine as he adds, “he’s my brother. My big brother.”
Letting out a deep breath, you hum. “Okay,” you say. It’s late and you’re tired, and you barely know Tom. You know how to choose your battles, and you aren’t about to fight with Sam over this. “I can date anyone I want, as long as it’s not Tom.”
Sam nods affirmatively. “Absolutely not Tom,” he agrees.
A small sigh slips past your lips, but you cover it with a cough. “Message received.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
Several weeks pass.
Tom stops coming to the restaurant during peak hours following an incident involving his instagram story, a horde of crazed fans, and an overcrowded restaurant. To make up for it, he leaves a few very generous tips, offers to cover the wine shipments for two months, and starts appearing at the end of Sam’s shifts to drive him home.
You’ve grown used to Tom, familiar with the sight of him lingering around the fire exit door at the end of every night, usually with a charming smile on his face. He doesn’t act any differently around you at first, but after a few days of picking Sam up, he does start leaving the shadows of the doorway and venturing into the kitchen. Despite being wrapped up in designer hoodies and t-shirts worth more than your life, Tom makes a habit of getting stuck in and helping you to clean down the kitchen each evening. Whenever Sam leaves the room, he gets closer to you.
It’s hard to read him; Tom flips between friendly and flirtatious with the drop of a hat. Between questions about your friends and your family, he slips in comments about your love life, and he is remarkably talented at balancing his curious babbling with genuine intrigue. He’s natural and easy in the way that he becomes a friend to you. A dependable friend. A kind friend...
...But also a friend who laughs at your jokes with his hand on your shoulder, and slips in sweet compliments about the timbre of your laugh, and makes a point to consistently compliment your toque.  
You know you need to stay away from him, but it’s hard not to entertain him. You like Tom. You like the easy lightness he brings to every conversation, and the way that he seems to hold on to every single word that you say. You come to crave the small brushes of his hand against your lower back whenever he leans over a counter and helps you wipe it down, and the small whispering jibes he breathes warmly into your ear at Sam’s expense.
Sam is a whole other issue, and the main thing holding you back. What sort of friend would you be to pursue his brother against his explicit request? He does not control you, but he is your business partner as well as your best friend, and you man the helm of The Sweet Spot together. So you try to suppress Tom, for Sam, try not to ponder if he’s flirting with you or just being friendly. Only one of those options is acceptable, and it’s not the one you find yourself wishing for.
As time passes, the date with the critic draws closer. In a bold creative decision, Sam proposes giving the menu a refresh to entice the critic into giving you a top rating. This means that you find yourself over at the Hollands’ house one Wednesday afternoon, two weeks before your assessment.
Sam lives with Harry, Tom, Harrison and Tuwaine in a large townhouse in Kingston. Despite repeatedly turning down your best friend’s invitation to move in with him, unofficially, the house is your second home—especially when Harry and Tom spend the majority of the year away. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t come to view Harry’s room as your second bedroom, given the number of nights you’ve ended up crashing in his bed in his absence.
When the front door opens, you’re met by Harry, Sam’s twin. The redhead gives you a mischievous smile before yelling, “Smile!”
In the millisecond Harry gives you to prepare, you startle into a loose grimace. A round of bright flashes goes off, stinging your eyes. When they end, you find yourself glaring at him, your vision dancing with the aftershocks.
“Twat,” you say, barging into the porch and nudging him with your shoulder. “That’s so rude, Harry. Not even a hello?”
Harry cackles. He closes the front door and leans back against it as you kick off your shoes and hang up your jacket on your peg. It’s between Sam’s and Tom’s.
“Sorry, love,” he says, voice distant. “Look at this beauty.”
He thrusts forward a camera, and you step closer to examine it. You aren’t into cameras like Harry, but you’re still able to appreciate the device. It’s large and looks to be heavy as it takes both of his hands to hold, with the buttons untouched and the lens very shiny. The grin on his face is larger than you’ve ever seen before.
“Wow,” you coo. “New?”
Harry hums affirmatively. “Yes,” he swoons. “Tom gave it to me.”
You make a sound of surprise. “Really?” you ask, looking up at him. Harry transfers the camera to one hand and uses the other to reach up and tug on his rusty curls. “How come?”
He hesitates. “Oh, uh… I did a favour for him,” Harry says, treading carefully. “He rewarded me for my actions. Or, uh, bribed me. It depends on how you want to look at it.”
A confused chuckle slips past your lips. “Tom bribed you?” you ask, raising a brow. “What have you done for him?”
Harry shrugs. “Nothing yet,” he says. “It’s an ongoing situation.” He shakes his head and points through to the main part of the house, speaking a little faster. “Doesn’t matter, though,” Harry adds. He grins as he clicks his fingers in front of your face. “Forget about this,” he says in a spooky voice. “Sam’s at the kitchen table.”
Shaking off his odd behaviour, you walk out of the entryway. The layout of the ground floor is open plan, with the kitchen, dining area and living room all combined into one large space. As you enter the room, you’re greeted by the sight of Sam at the kitchen table and Tom sitting at the counter on a barstool. Tom twists around the moment you enter, his eyes widening in soft surprise.
Your eyes gravitate towards the eldest immediately, despite your best efforts to give your attention to Sam. He’s wrapped in a tight navy polo shirt, his hair spiked up and out from his face with gel. Tom’s jeans are black and they look very smart, with the belt a bold metal that looks expensive and heavy. The only part of the ensemble that betrays any sort of normalcy is the fact that he’s wearing Spider-Man patterned socks.
Tom smiles at you, and you find yourself inhaling a shaky breath.
“Hi, Y/N,” Tom says. He puts down his phone and immediately stands from the stool. Your eyes catch on his slender fingers as he reaches up to fluff up his hair, his strands falling from the rigid hold of the gel. His eager brown eyes cascade across your figure, and you feel yourself swallowing dryly as his warm hands brush up against your waist before his lips gently knock against your cheek. “You look beautiful this afternoon, darling,” he whispers, and you don’t know if you’re lightheaded from the sweet words or the scent of his rich cologne.
“Thank you,” you reply, smiling bashfully. You’re glad you’d taken the time to put on a slightly dressier top and style your hair. Tom keeps his hands gently on your hips, and you like how they feel weighing down your waist. “You look nice too.”
Tom’s face splits with a nervous smile, but he’s prevented from speaking when Sam’s voice joins the fray.
“Hi,” Sam pipes up. “I’m over here.”
You roll your eyes as Tom begrudgingly releases you, his face crossing with an expression of brief irritation before he flashes you a smile and returns to his spot on the stool. You try to shake off your daze as you move over to the kitchen table, flashing a tense smile at Sam.
“Hi,” you tell him. You collapse down into the seat opposite Sam and give him a friendly kick under the table. “What’s up?”
Sam looks up and sighs. He drags his hands over swathes of paper. “I’m so bloody stressed,” he admits. “I can’t figure out the flavour combinations.” He gives you his best pleading eyes as he shoves some papers at you. “Help me, please.”
“Of course.”
You go back and forth with Sam, debating over the tweaks to the menu. Both of you know that you need a stunning spread on offer for the critic from Far From Flavour, and whilst your normal menu usually dazzles your customers, you want to blow them out of the water. Things get heated as you debate the layout of the menu, your terse conversation only breaking when Tom speaks up from the kitchen.
“Y/N,” he calls out, his voice a strained whisper. When you glance up at him, you feel some of the tenseness leave your jaw. Tom’s peering at you from behind the counter, kettle in one hand. “How do you take your tea?”
Your lips twitch into a soft smile, and you answer quickly. “Thanks, Tom,” you add, trying not to let your voice waver as he gives you the warmest grin you’ve ever seen. His whole face seems to light up at your praise.
You sink back into conversation with Sam, feeling slightly distracted in the knowledge that Tom is across the kitchen brewing you a mug of tea. When Tom’s finished, he carefully and deliberately walks out towards you, two cups in his hands. Sam clears a spot on the table and shoves two coasters out, and you find yourself tensing as Tom settles behind your chair. He reaches over, bending just beside you as he carefully puts the mugs down. The mugs are a little messy, with trails of brown liquid sloshed down the side, but Tom’s sheepish smile makes up for it.
“There you go,” Tom says, hand briefly lingering on your back as he stands up. “I think I’ll make some lunch,” he adds, eyes skittering over your face. “Would you like some, Y/N?”
“What are you making?” you ask curiously.
Tom takes a deep breath as if he’s steeling himself for the revelation. “Fish,” he says with a nod of his head. “I am making fish.”
Sam laughs immediately. “Fuck off,” he quips. You glance across the table and see him smirking impishly. “You’ve never made fish before.”
Tom stands back from the table, and you look back to him as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Well, Samuel, you’re wrong—”
“—That is not my name—”
“—I know how to make fish,” Tom continues, rolling his eyes. He looks at you, offering a sheepish smile. “I can’t promise it’ll be on your level, love, but hopefully it will be edible.”
Your laugh interrupts Sam’s grumbles, and you share an expression of amusement with Tom as you nod. “That’d be really nice, Tom. Do you need any help?”
His teeth dig into the flesh of his lower lip as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, darling,” he coos. “You make me so much food, it’s time I return the favour.” A flash of hesitation crosses Tom’s face, and you watch him retreat a few paces to snatch his phone from the table. “I’ll just… Be back in a minute.”
A confused frown creases your brows, but before either you or Sam can question him on his behaviour, Tom scampers from the room. You look back at your best friend.
“Did that seem really weird to you?” you wonder.
Sam releases a sound between a scoff and a sigh. “He’s always been dramatic,” he mutters. “Everything is always a performance.”
As you open your mouth to speak, you hear a distant sound, muffled and vibrating against the table. “What’s that?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing. You look around the kitchen, eyes gliding over appliances and countertops. A lightbulb goes off inside your head when you spot a stray airpod resting at the end of the table. “Is it coming from that?”
With nimble fingers, Sam reaches out and picks up the airpod, holding it to his ear with intrigue pulled across his forehead. You watch his face cycle through a series of expressions before he dissolves into raucous laughs, his figure shaking with amusement as he kicks you under the table.
“Fucking hell,” he wheezes, his smile blinding. Sam offers you the airpod. “It’s Tom’s.”
Intrigued, you take the small device to bring it to your ear.
“Lift up the base of the tail, and then just nick a little bit at the end there… Twist the knife, almost as if it’s horizontally beneath the salmon…”
Your eyes widen, and you bring a hand to muffle your giggles. “Is that Gordon Ramsay?” you ask.
Sam snorts again. “Yeah. Twat’s watching a tutorial about deboning a fish.”
Your lips roll into a pout, and you put the airpod back down onto the table. It’s funny, but that thought is outweighed by how utterly endearing you find it that Tom ran away to learn how to debone a fish, so he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of you. It makes your heart swell.
“Do not say anything about this to him,” you warn, glaring at Sam. “Don’t embarrass him.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Y/N, it’d be impossible for me to keep this to myself,” he argues. He tosses his hands into the air when you intensify your gaze. “Mate, please, c’mon. I have nothing over him, he— he’s a fucking a-list celebrity.” Sam grumbles as he crosses his arms over his chest. “What else am I supposed to tease him about?”
“Just don’t mention it,” you suggest, trying to warm him up to the idea by pairing it with a smile. “Please?”
Sam reaches up and tugs at his hair, scowling. “Why do you even care?” he mutters. “It’d be funny.” His words die out, and your friend goes very still. His eyes fill with suspicion as he tilts his head to the side, his mood shifting. “Wait… Why do you care?”
You feel yourself swallowing. “Uh… Well… You know what the great Chef Gusteau said? Anyone can cook?”
He laughs as he nods, a little bit of the distrust melting from his face. “Yeah.”
You reach across the table and pull at Sam’s arm. “Don’t discourage someone from trying out a new skill. He might end up being a good chef—”
“—And, if you say a thing, I’ll tell him about the time that you shagged Lauren in his bed whilst he was away in America.”
Sam gasped, and you know you’ve got him. “Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. You can almost see the blood drain from his face as he contemplates your threat. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“You bitch,” Sam mutters dejectedly. “You’re fucking horrible.” Sam’s nostrils flare as he stares you down. “I thought you’re supposed to be my best friend.”
“I am.” You flutter your lashes. “You know what you have to do. Or, rather, not do.”
Sam grumbles something else beneath his breath before folding, sighing with reluctance. “Fine,” he mutters. “But I won’t forget this.”
When Tom walks back into the room, Sam falls silent, a surly frown clinging to his lips. Tom’s whistle promptly fades, and you watch him walk up to the kitchen counter, where he pauses to glance at the two of you.
“Uh… Are you both alright?” he asks awkwardly. “It feels like I just walked into a hurricane.”
Sam clicks on the pen and scribbles something on the menu plan. “Y/N is bullying me,” he mutters. He glances up at you, humour in his eyes. “She’s being a twat.”
“Woah.” You sit up a little straighter, feeling the weight of Tom’s gaze burning into the side of your face. “Not true.”
Tom pipes up with a noise of agreement. “I don’t think Y/N is capable of being a twat,” he says. “She’s too lovely.”
As you push back the urge to melt on the spot, Sam releases a sound of disgruntlement. “Ew,” he mutters. “You’re such a flirt.”
Tom’s lips pull into a straight line, and he sighs as if he’s just resolved to do something he doesn’t want to do. He eases you with a quick smile before walking out to the grand hallway and yelling up the staircase, voice a deep holler that makes you startle. “Harry!”
From upstairs, you hear movement, followed by heavy footsteps coming down the staircase. “What?”
Tom leans back against the doorframe, connecting the kitchen and hallway. You try not to admire how nice he looks from behind, how firm and strongly he fills out his polo.
“It’s time,” Tom hisses to Harry. “For the thing we talked about earlier.”
“What thing— oh.”
Harry finishes walking down the stairs, then pops his head around the door. He looks first to you, then Sam, and grimaces at his twin. “Sam,” he says. “We’re going out with Tess. Right now.”
Sam pulls a face. “Wait, where?”
“Out. Walk. I need to practice with my camera, and you’re the only person available.”
“Three other people live in this house—”
“Now!” Harry claps his hands together and raises his eyebrows at Sam. They seem to hold a conversation through facial expressions only, and you’re struck with how close they remain despite spending most of the year on opposite sides of the globe. “C’mon,” Harry chimes. “Tess is waiting.”
Sam sighs as he looks at you. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I suppose it’s a good job we just finished this menu, eh?”
He stands from the table and yawns as he stretches. “Fuck,” he murmurs, muscles clicking. “I guess I’ll see you tonight, Y/N. Do you want to come with Harry and I? We could walk you home.”
You hear Tom suck in a breath, and you find yourself shaking your head. “No,” you say, glancing at the older man. “I think Tom’s going to cook for me.” When Tom nods, you smile. “Yeah… I’d better stay and make sure he’s okay.”
Sam’s eyes narrow almost suspiciously, but only for a moment. He sighs as he shrugs, then walks over to Harry. “Okay,” he agrees. He smirks as he looks at Tom. “Don’t give her food poisoning, though, mate. I need her to run the kitchen tonight.”
Tom gives Sam a small salute. “Yes, chef!”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧
Harry and Sam leave the kitchen and disappear in a flurry of slammed doors and dog collars, and your nerves seem to sharpen. As you sit up on one of the counters in the kitchen to watch Tom prep your food, you find yourself nervous—stiff as a rod, mouth dry. You’ve been alone with him before, but not like this, and not with the promise of food.
“Right,” Tom murmurs, tentatively picking up a knife. He’s standing in front of the polished granite countertop, doused in the bright kitchen lighting with a large slab of fish out on the chopping board in front of him. He glances up at you, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. “If I do this wrong, I’m really sorry.”
You think about the video he’d run away to watch, and your heart skips a beat. “You’ll be fine,” you soothe. “I feel as though you pick up new skills quite quickly.”
Tom chuckles as he nicks the end of the fish and starts wiggling the knife beneath the layer of skin, concentration thick on his face. “Sort of,” he murmurs. “Some things are easier than others. I’m usually fairly good with my hands, though.” You raise your brows as he bites his lip, a flash of embarrassment briefly curling across his face. “That sounded odd,” he adds, glancing up at you with rosy cheeks.
“Sam was right,” you tease, letting a smile unfurl across your lips. “You are a flirt.”
Tom shakes his head. “Am not.”
“I beg to differ.”
Tom scrunches up the tip of his nose, shrugging slightly. “‘S not my fault,” he returns. He glances up at you slyly. “You’re a very pretty lady, Y/N. I can’t help that I lose my cool around you.”
Your heartbeat spikes. “You work in Hollywood. Don’t you see beautiful people all the time?”
He hums as he coaxes the meat free from the fish. You can’t stop yourself from staring at his arms, at how his biceps bulge against the tight holes of his shirt every time he chops with the knife.
“Hollywood beauty is artificial, and the people that I work with there are just my co-workers or my friends.” Tom pauses to lick across his lower lip, his eyes once more travelling over to you. “And I can be smooth when I want to be, but… You make me a little bit nervous if I’m being honest, darling.”
The comparison he’s made between you and the beautiful ensemble that makes up his castmates makes you feel jumpy and flattered, and you find yourself deflecting. “I’m the most normal person ever,” you mutter. “If anyone is going to be intimidated, it’s me around you.”
“Well, I am gorgeously handsome,” Tom teases, smirking when you scowl. “But, darling, come on now. Stop acting like you’re anything other than extraordinary.”
Your heart aches, and you have to stop looking at him. Sam drifts from the forefront of your mind, as does the month-long turmoil you’ve felt as you’ve tried to dissect Tom’s actions towards you. It definitely feels like he’s flirting with you, and that thought is only reinforced when you utter your thanks, and he glances up at you with darkening eyes. His attention pours over you like thick sand, covering every inch of your body until it feels as though you’re inhaling breaths of dry, hot tension. Tom makes a slight humming noise before audibly swallowing and looking away.
“Am I… Am I doing this right?” he asks, finally slipping the fish free from the skin. He glances up at you as he waits on an answer, his pink tongue held between his teeth.
Bridging the gap, you slip down from the counter and walk to his side. Tom’s arm is warm beside yours, and you smell the scent of his rich cologne. It drifts up your nose, sinking into your senses, dizzying you as you peer at the board. Tom demonstrates how he’s coaxing up the spine of the fish, then picks up the fish tweezers and starts to slowly pull out the shards of white bone.
“Well done,” you murmur, eyes drifting over the poised nature of his slender digits. “That’s it.”
“I don’t think I’m holding it correctly,” Tom says, voice huskier than usual. He flexes his fingers around the tweezers and looks up to frown at you. “It feels weird in my hand.”
“I can show you if you want?”
“Please, darling.”
Tom passes you the small device, and you move closer until you’re pressing against his side. He leans over the counter, watching as you quickly and delicately pull out the fishbones. After a moment, he moves his hand, delicately resting it on top of yours, supple fingers warming your skin. When you sink further into his side, Tom wraps his palm around your hand more decisively, and despite it being a hindrance to the speed of your food prep, you can’t bring yourself to care.
When you finish the deboning, you stay there, eyes fluttering shut as tension pulses between you. Tom’s fingers curl around yours, and you replace the tweezers with his digits. They slot with yours easily, and after a moment, he uses his grip to very gently coax you from the counter and spin you to face him.
“Y/N,” he says, voice gentle. Tom squeezes your fingers as you bring your eyes to his, gaze sweeping over the tenderness in his face, the soft curves of his mouth. Every feature on his face is sculpted and strong, and his handsomeness feels exacerbated by the way he’s speaking to you so softly. “You’re so pretty.”
The desire to kiss him invades you until you can’t think about anything else. His warm, minty breath fans out across your mouth, and when he tilts his head a little to the side, you realise that you’d be able to slot together so easily. You swallow as you step just a little bit closer, wanting to touch him but not wanting to shatter the peace or get your dirty hands on his shirt or face. Instead, you lick your lower lip, trying to push out all the right signals until the ball is in his court.
You don’t know who closes the final gap, but a moment later, your breath hitches as you feel Tom’s lips softly bump against yours. It’s gentle but purposeful, slightly awkward but melting the longer his mouth stays on yours. The notion that it’s him fades as you find home in his lips, warmth in the way that they’re so tender with you, so light. It’s a sweet kiss, and you find yourself lost in the desire to fold yourself closer.
When it fades, you stay with your forehead pressed to his. The tip of Tom’s nose is cool as it nudges against yours, and you can feel the timid smile on his face.
“I would really like to kiss you more,” you whisper. “But I have fish on my hands.”
Tom laughs, and the sound is so delightful it makes you grin too. “Me too,” he admits. He hums as he steps back, second-guessing it a moment later when he returns to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. As sparks rock out from the patch of skin, he wiggles his brows. “We should finish this, then…”
There’s a nervous energy between you as you hurry to chop, prep and season the fish and assorted vegetables. Tom cranks the heat up on the pan, and you feel the instant aroma of fresh food hit your nose as he heaps all his wares into the awaiting pan. You’re quick to wash your hands, and the moment that you’re both clean again, Tom pushes you into the corner of the counters, smirking as he boxes you in with an arm on either side of your waist. Your legs dangle against the lower cupboards as you perch on the countertop, draping your hands around his neck as you look down at him, suddenly nervous.
“Are you okay?” he asks. Tom’s hands are on your waist, his fingers rolling soft circular patterns across your skin.
You look at him, and the nerves fade. “Yes,” you reply, releasing a tight breath in response. One of his hands moves up, gently caressing the side of your neck as Tom drags his fingers up the column of your throat. “You’re just… so gorgeously handsome,” you tease, but it’s not a lie, “it takes my breath away.”
Tom chuckles. “Well, I think you’re the brightest star in the sky, darling.”
A shiver passes through you, and you know he can feel it. You know he’s aware of the effect that he has on you, and it’s only exaggerated when your words of thanks come out strained. Tom’s eyes soften as he lets his hand wander around your face, light fingertips tickling over your skin before resting on your cheek. His fingertips roll across the delicate flesh of your cheekbones and you feel your breath hitch. “God…”
You can’t stay away anymore. You lean down and chase his lips, finding them and exhaling. The rush of excitement is just as sharp as the first kiss, but it’s quick to blur into exhilaration as it deepens. Tom’s mouth is so tender on yours, so hot, and you feel him everywhere. His hand cupping your cheek holds you close as the other presses into your waist, anchoring you, holding you close. His warmth consumes you, and you’re struck with the thought that you’d quite like to be held like this by him forever.
In the background, you’re numbly aware of the pan sizzling. The thought that you should check on it fades when Tom runs his tongue along the seam of your lips, prodding until your mouth opens and you invite him deeper. Things heat up, your hands going up to grasp at his curls. As you curl your fingers into his textured hair and give his strands a soft tug, Tom elicits a quiet groan into your mouth.
Your hearing blacks out for a few moments, the only noise you’re aware of being the rush of your heartbeat in your ears, and when that fades, you hear a loud crack from beside you. Reluctantly, you pull away from Tom, your chef senses overpowering your desire to continue kissing him.
“...Shit, I think that’s burning,” you murmur.
Tom jumps away from you, his cheeks turning a deep red as he looks at the pan with wide eyes. A small smile finds your lips as he curses and prods the fish with a spatula, confirming your suspicion that, in your lovestruck blindness, you’d both failed to see the warning signs. Now the fillet has seared to the bottom of Sam’s expensive pan.
“Fuck,” Tom mutters. He looks up to you, a devilish smirk hanging from his lips. “Worth it?”
You bite your lip, your own eyes trawling over the pinkness of Tom’s lips. “Yeah,” you say. “You’re going to have to do a lot of grovelling, though. That’s his favourite pan.”
Tom winces. As he opens his mouth to respond, you hear the front door open, followed by the babbling sounds of Harry and Sam. Panic flashes through you as you reach up, wiping at your lips and trying to tame your hair, exchanging an expression of nerves with Tom, who steps further from you as you slip down from the counter.
When Sam steps into the room and gives you a cheerful wave, you can only hope he can’t see the guilt on your face.
“Hi,” Sam calls out. “How’s it going?”
Tom glances at you. There’s a reluctance to his gaze, a slight awkwardness to his disposition that suggests he’s just as uncertain as you are.
“Fine,” you return, lying through your teeth. Your mind feels like it’s spinning, cycling through sentence fragments as you try not to linger on the fact that you kissed Tom.
Sam notices your unevenness immediately. He narrows his eyes. “Why does it smell like burning in here?”
Swallowing down a lump of anxiety, you smile nervously. “Just a little mishap,” you say, voice higher than usual. “Don’t worry about it.”
“God,” Sam mutters, rolling his eyes as he walks around the counters and into the kitchen. He’s teasing you both, smirking with Harry at his side. “I can’t leave you two alone, can I? Who knows what you’d end up ruining next if we hadn’t gotten back.”
Your laugh is just a little bit too forced, and Tom’s sounds similarly tight. You look at him for a final time, just for a moment, before a warm stabbing in your heart makes you break away again.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
For the next week, all you feel is guilt. Tom twists your heart in knots, and just the sight of Sam makes you nervous. The Hollands have you guilt-stricken and stressed.
Every time you’re around Sam, you feel out of sorts. You find yourself wondering if he knows what happened in the kitchen, if he’s deduced the real reason why you and Tom burnt the bottom of his skillet. You wonder if he’s somehow got into your phone and seen the chains of teasing messages sent back and forth between you and Tom, if he can see the tension that thickens the air whenever Tom comes into the kitchen after hours. But as terrible as you feel about betraying your promise, you can’t stop yourself from overlooking the guilt in exchange for indulging in some clandestine activities with Tom.
Nothing beyond some forbidden kissing happens—there isn’t the opportunity. Tom’s working long hours in preparation for his on-stage debut, and you’re pulling late shifts to keep up with customer demand ahead of the visit from the critic. You keep going by snatching a few hot minutes in supply cupboards and hiding in the back alleyway together.
Your contact with Tom is just enough to keep things exciting whilst also being heavy enough to have you acting skittishly around Sam. In the weekend between your trip to Tom’s house and your visit from the critic, you decide that you need to clear your head, so you fall back on your favourite coping mechanism: cooking.
When you’d first opened The Sweet Spot, you and Sam had been inventive with how you’d built a loyal customer base and gathered buzz about your restaurant. One of the easiest and most effective ways to do that turned out to be hosting cooking sessions on Instagram live. You enjoy it a lot more than Sam, and it’d quickly become your thing, with the monthly event as one of your favourite nights of the month.
It’s 1am when you start, fatigued from your shift but energised from a strong gin and tonic. With the night sharpening your senses and the freedom of having the whole venue to yourself, you set up to cook and begin your livestream.
“Hi guys,” you greet, speaking to your phone. You have it propped up on the large industrial counter, front-facing and showing you the stats. You make light conversation with some of the viewers through the comment section as the numbers soar from tens to hundreds, then thousands, and you get a few notifications from Sam’s twitter promoting the stream. “Today, I thought we’d do a stir fry. This is what you’re going to need….”
You walk your audience through it, grinning at your phone as you show off your spice blends and your vegetables. You’re in your favourite apron—hand-embroidered by Sam’s mum, Nikki, and gifted to you for your last birthday. Sam’s in the comments, leaving small messages here and there that you know will end up screenshotted by someone and uploaded to twitter. His fans always die for the interactions between you.
The first few minutes go well, and as you start peeling and chopping up your vegetables, you can feel the stress leaving your system. You love working as head chef, but it’s a very different environment between running a full service and cooking for fun. Even with 4,000 people watching, it feels homely, and you feel at ease.
Your peace is promptly shattered when the door into the kitchen suddenly opens, a string of loud expletives falling past your lips as you drop your knife and clutch at your chest. It’s Tom, with a pink hoodie shrugged over his body, his hair wild, and slightly bloodshot eyes.
“I’m on Instagram live,” you say immediately, stumbling slightly over the words as you discreetly gesture at your phone. You glance down and see the comments full of confusion. Your own emotions mirror them—Tom has never come around unannounced, and whilst it doesn’t surprise you he has a key, you’re concerned as to why he’s burst in at 1am.
Tom blinks a few times as if he’s surprised to see you, but the creases on his forehead ease as he sighs. He looks around the kitchen for a few moments before his eyes land on the whiteboard pinned up to one of the walls, housing all the important recipe notes. When you give him a nod, he walks over to it and begins writing in large blocky letters.
Can I sit here and run my lines? Promise I won’t interrupt you. House was too busy :( <3
His heart is squiggly, but it’s very endearing. “Of course,” you reply. “Do whatever you’d like.”
Tom flashes you a tired smile, and you can almost see the weight roll from his shoulders as he clasps his hands together. He situates himself up on one of the counters and quietly shrugs off his bag, then sits with his legs crossed and starts to flick through his battered script.
It’s very calming to be cooking alone yet still be so attached to other people. Tom’s here, occasionally looking up to smile at you, and you’re connected through your phone to thousands of others too. As you show off the sizzling vegetables in your pan and throw out a few tips, you feel the warm aromas soothe you.
“You’ll want to make sure the root is completely severed, otherwise it’ll taste very bitter…. Wait, I’ll show you.”
Wincing a smile, you pick up your pan from the heat and show it off to your camera. As you grin proudly at the screen, a flash goes off around the kitchen, followed by a noise of disgruntlement from Tom. Your eyes snap open, and you see him looking sheepish, offering you a cute shrug as he points at his phone and flutters his lashes.
You roll your eyes, trying to push down the emotions that come with being on the receiving end of such a smile.
A few minutes later, all your comments start to change, asking about Tom. You find yourself reading one of them out,
“You looked really cute in the story Tom just uploaded. Are you going to make him cook too?” Your eyes narrow, and you look back at Tom. “Tom posted an Instagram story?” you clarify. When you get confirmation from the comments, it starts to make a lot more sense why the number of viewers has soared to 20,000. “Well, he’s more than welcome to come and join in, but I’ll tell you a secret, Instagram.” You lean closer and lower your voice, making direct eye contact with Tom as you smirk. “Tom’s not the best chef in the world.”
Across the room, Tom pulls a face. You watch him stretch out his legs, then toss aside his script and stand from the counter. As he walks towards you, he seems to perk up, slipping into another version of himself. Gone is the exhausted man who’d staggered into the restaurant, replaced by a version who walks with purpose and smiles with his entire face. You wonder how much of his bravado is an act.
“Woah, woah, woah,” Tom calls out, voice loud enough to be captured by your phone. You step aside, letting him into frame and watching as he crosses his arms and glances at your phone screen. He then looks at you, mock outrage on his face. “I am not the one who burnt the fish the other day.”
You release a dramatic gasp, deciding to pander to his invisible audience. “First of all, that’s ridiculous because you were supposed to be cooking for me, so you can’t blame me for anything that went wrong. Second…” you pass Tom the tongs and gesture at the pan. “You can redeem yourself now, if you think you’re so good at cooking.”
Tom nods. A smirk finds his lips. “Yes, chef,” he mutters. He looks at your phone and nods again for the viewers. “Just wait and see, guys. This will be the best stir fry you’ve ever seen.”
You let him take the lead, coaching him through the steps as the comment section egg him on. The numbers have spiked since Tom entered the video, and now the comments are full of people asking questions about you both and picking up on the light banter that you spin together. You don’t want to be too obvious with things in front of so many people, especially when neither you nor Tom have ever had a serious discussion about your kisses, but you play into Tom whenever he decides to tease you.
The viewers go mad near the end of the livestream when Tom holds up a spoon of liquid and gestures towards you, encouraging you to step forward and taste it. He watches you with beady eyes as you take the end of the spoon and gently sip a little of his sauce concoction, a beautifully spiced mix warming your mouth a moment later.
“Fuck,” you moan, giving him a surprised nod. “That’s really good, Tom.”
Tom’s face shows nothing but pride as he takes the spoon and brings it to his own lips, passing his mouth over the spot where yours had just been a moment ago. You’re glad you’re partially off camera so the viewers can’t see the way you gape as he flicks his tongue across the curve of the spoon, moaning too.
“Oh god yeah,” Tom murmurs, dramatically closing his eyes. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. You’re a fucking genius.”
“Well, you’re the chef.”
You remain flustered for the rest of the livestream, your attraction for Tom mixing with the spices in the air and the deliriousness that comes with being awake after dark. When you finally finish up the stream, you release a sigh of relief. Tom may be the actor, but you think you deserve some kind of award for your performance; standing there, pretending to be unaffected by his messy hair and his focused disposition, was the hardest performance of your life.
“Fuck, coming here was such a good idea,” Tom mutters. He’s sitting back on the counter now, a bowl of noodles and vegetables balanced on his lap as he gleefully scoffs down the food. You smile as you drift towards him, craving the soothing presence of his body close to yours. “Here, have some.”
Tom twirls a few bits of noodles around his fork before skewering the prongs onto a piece of soft carrot. You open your mouth, and he makes a small whirring sound before gently pushing it into your mouth, your lips curving into a smile as you realise he’s making the noise of an aeroplane.
“There you go,” Tom adds, voice a little quieter. His eyes sparkle, dark as hazel gemstones. When you finish chewing, he leans forward a little bit to kiss the tip of your nose. “You were really cute on the livestream,” he adds. “Did I ever tell you that I find it really hot when you cook?”
A small laugh falls from your lips, and you sit up on the counter beside him, sinking into his side when he opens an arm for you. Tom doesn’t seem to mind being so close to you, and you’re not sure if it’s the late hour or the fact that you’re finally alone together, but he’s being very inviting. His lips come down across the side of your head as you sit together in silence, resting in the cool darkness of the kitchen.
“Why’d you come here tonight, Tom?” you eventually ask.
Tom stabs at a piece of bak choy as he hums. “Sam gave me a key when I came back last month,” he says slowly, voice twanging in the accent that you’ve grown to adore so much. “Sometimes, I come here to run my lines. It’s a lot calmer than the house.” Tom pauses for a moment, a short puff leaving his lips. “I can stop, though, if you think it’s odd. I wouldn’t want to invade your space or anything. It’s just— it’s nice to clear my head.”
Your mouth pulls into a reassuring smile as you sit up a little straighter, looking to face him. “It’s okay,” you say, concerned eyes sweeping the tired bags hanging beneath Tom’s eyes. Both of you have deadlines looming—like some cruel trick of fate, you and Sam have your visit from the critic scheduled in the same weekend that Tom steps out on stage for the first time. “How are rehearsals going?”
Tom releases a mirthless laugh. “I start next Friday,” he says slowly, “it’s been incredibly challenging. They’re all so talented, and… it’s so exhilarating, but also very nerve-wracking.” Absently he reaches towards the script, chuckling softly. “I know everything back to front, but I want to be perfect. I don’t want to let anybody down.”
He looks so small, sitting beside you, drowning in a hoodie. Sadness and fatigue taint his features, and you feel the overwhelming desire to comfort him. Before you can think it through, you slip down from the countertop and stand in front of him, softly walking into his arms as Tom startles to put down his bowl and part his thighs.
You hold him, loosely at first, but when Tom wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, you tighten your hug. His face burrows into your neck, and you find yourself doing the same with his, your nose inhaling distant tones of his sweet scent as his palms soothe all over your back. Tom releases a soft noise of comfort against your neck, the loops of his curls tickling your face as you sigh.
“You won’t let anyone down,” you whisper. “They wouldn’t have hired you if they didn’t know you’re capable of smashing it. It’ll be okay.”
Tom tilts his face, and you find yourself shivering as he gently kisses your neck. It feels domestic and homely—an act from a man who’s come to know you very well. It brings your heart to the back of your throat, your heart beating deafeningly loud in your ears as Tom’s hands shift to hold your waist.
You watch him swallow, eyes slowly drifting across your face before connecting with your gaze. “You know,” he starts, “I really tried to stay away from you, Y/N. Sam said that he didn’t want me to cross any lines with you.” Tom gives a slight throwaway shrug. “But I want to cross them with you. I don’t know what you want… If this is just casual to you, or something more, but… I know what I want.”
You find yourself swallowing. Tom’s looking at you earnestly, chewing on his lower lip as guilt shadows his features. You let your hands move around to rest on his shoulders, one of your index fingers coming down to twirl with one of the strings of his hoodies.
“What do you want?” you ask. “Because I don’t want to hurt Sam. I really don’t want to hurt Sam.”
Tom hums in agreement, eyes losing a bit of their spark. “Neither do I.” He’s quiet for a few moments, and you watch as he opens and closes his mouth. Eventually, Tom settles, sitting a little straighter with a determined look in his eyes. “But fuck, darling. I can’t stop thinking about you, and you look so cute right now.” His hands travel to tug on the front of your apron, his eyes softer as he whines. “I’ve thought about you every day this week,” he mumbles. “Fuck Sam,” he adds, guilt turning to mischievousness. Tom brings you closer, the tip of his nose pressing to yours as your breath hitches. You let your eyes shut until all you know is him, and his breath, and his touch. “I want to kiss you, Y/N, all the time. I want to be with you, and learn all the different ways I can make you smile. I want to make you happy.”
He’s still toying with the hem of your apron, touch so gentle. Tom is always gentle with you, always respectful. Even after pouring out his heart to you, you know he’d back off the moment that you asked.
Your hands slip up to cup his cheeks, and you coax Tom in for a kiss, conveying with your lips everything you feel in your heart. His lips are as warm and smooth as always, and they glide over yours like moonbeams. When you pull away, you have clarity.
“I like you too,” you admit. “And I want to learn how to make you happy as well.”
Tom licks his lips, his cheeks a shade of pleased pink. “I’ll teach you, if you teach me?”
“Yes, please.”
You come back together again, and as nice as it feels to have his mouth melding with yours, the warmth that unfurls inside your chest feels a thousand times better. Tom, you inhale his scent and feel at ease. Tom, your heart aches as he grabs your hips and reels you closer. Tom, you can see your whole future spreading out before your very eyes, starting from a kiss and stretching to infinity.
Things spiral deeper quickly, a building hunger toning your actions.
Tom nips at your lower lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth, and you find yourself moaning as his warmth envelops yours. It isn’t rushed, he’s taking his time to map you out, but you can feel the desperation and the passion pulsing behind each one of his actions.
Your lips disconnect with a soft sound of spit-soaked mouths, and you moan as you feel Tom’s wet lips drag down to pad along the curve of your jaw. He’s teasing as he lays down a trail of light kisses, moving to the column of your throat before humming as he delicately attaches his mouth to the soft flesh of your neck. A breathless whimper slips past your lips as you feel him nibbling along your neck, his mouth hot and eager.
“There we go,” Tom murmurs, voice darker as it rasps into your ear. His tones reverberate against your temples, drowning out everything else. “That’s your sweet spot, isn’t it?” His tongue laps over the patch of skin that makes you melt, your soft moans drifting out into the space between you as you dissolve into him. Tom pays you attention, his needy hands roaming across your figure until you’re squirming.
“Oh my god, Tom,” you whine, voice breathless. His palms are so warm against your skin, adventurous as they curve around your figure to caress your lower back. He teases you with his fingers, his touch light but intoxicating. “Please touch me.”
Tom hums as his lips move back to kiss you, hands dropping down to move over the curves of your ass. After acquainting his lips with your mouth, Tom pushes off from the counter until he’s standing too.
“Darling,” he mumbles, voice catching in his throat. He pulls back, hands cupping your cheeks as he looks at you, eyes sparkling darkly. The expression of hunger in his gaze makes your cunt throb. “Can I do something nice for you?”
“What do you have in mind?” you ask, chest rising and falling quickly.
Tom licks his lips. “Can I have a taste?” he asks innocently, letting his mouth fall against your cheek. He drags his lips back until he’s able to rasp into your ear, “a little taste of your pussy, baby?”
Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you find yourself nodding. “Yeah,” you gasp. “Please, Tom.”
He smiles as he pushes you back against the counter, then kisses your lips a final time before vanishing. After taking a quick swig of water, Tom sinks to his knees in front of you. He kisses up along your legs before his hands skim up, travelling to the waistband of your trousers and gently tugging them down when you give him a nod. When he’s got them pooled at your feet, Tom presses your thighs apart. He sucks in a breath as he looks up at you, gaze gentle.
“You’re so pretty, my darling,” he murmurs, pressing the cool tip of his nose up against your inner thighs as he tilts his head up towards your cunt. Your folds feel wet with anticipation, and you find your fingers curling around the edge of the cool metal counter as you feel him press a light kiss to the front of your panties. You part your thighs as far as they’ll go and wait as Tom eyes your centre eagerly, his eyes almost black.
“Go ahead,” you coax, voice coming out slightly weak. You can barely take the tension.
Tom grins. “Y’know,” he murmurs gently, running both index fingers under the waistband of your panties. “I thought your sweet spot was on your neck. But now…” Tom easily tugs your panties down, and you gasp as the cool air of the empty kitchen wafts over your front. There’s a brief intermission as you kick away your clothes, leaving your lower half entirely bare, hot and pulsing. “Well...” Tom sits on his knees and nestles between your legs, “now, I think this might be it. Wouldn’t that be right?”
You’re unable to reply, too blindsided by the feeling of his warm breath fanning across your cunt. As if he can read how utterly fucked his actions have rendered you, Tom presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh before reaching up to smooth his hands across your waist. He looks up at you, loose curls falling over his forehead as he pauses for a few moments, eyes clearing.
“Are you sure that you want this?” he checks. His thumb rolls around the soft flesh of your waist, teasing you with drawn-on hearts.
“Please, Tom,” you beg. You shiver when he kisses your inner thigh again. “Been thinking about what this would be like for weeks.”
Tom smirks. “Good,” he mumbles. “Just checking.” He glances back at your pussy, smirking deviously as he licks his lips. “G’nna fucking devour you, lovie.” Tom’s hands skate down, warm thumbs rolling across the front of your folds. He delicately pulls your outer lips apart, exposing your centre, glistening with honeyed arousal. He curses before pressing the lightest kiss to the top of your clit, humming when you whimper.
He is like a man starved—eager to delve deep with his tongue as he drags the hot muscle from your clit and down to your entrance. Running the line with the flat of his tongue causes your eyes to roll back in your head, and you feel your chest start to rise and fall with more urgency as you squirm against the counter.
“Oh fuck,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as you feel him. “Tom.”
Tom moans into you, the vibrations spreading out across your entire centre like a teasing shock. He’s gentle despite the hunger in his eyes, moving delicately with his tongue almost as if he’s scared to break you. Using the firm tip of his muscle, he curves down to your heat, collecting the weeping nectar from your entrance before pulling back up to your clit. Expletives flow from your lips as he laps across your bud, erect and pulsing, revelling in the attention from his sinful mouth as he flicks and sucks and learns with his tongue, getting to know your centre with earnest fervour.
Tom’s hands press your thighs further apart as he holds you up against the countertop, and all you’re able to do in response is learn the curls of his hair with your hands, clinging to him as pleasure blurs with lust.
“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, voice thick and vibrating out across your cunt. “Tastes like heaven, darling.”
You grind down against him, chasing the sparks of excitement that roll up your spine in response to the sensations coming from his mouth. “Oh fuck,” you cry out. Your moans build in volume as Tom moves one of his hands from your waist and settles it between your legs. “Please,” you beg, feeling two of his fingertips resting as your entrance. You can almost feel him smiling around your clit as he sheathes both digits into your heat, eliciting loud sounds of loud arousal from your hole.
“Darling,” he hums, messily lapping his tongue over your clit before pausing to add, “you’re so hot like this… bloody whimpering.” He returns to teasing your bud as he crooks his fingers up against your walls, shifting his angle until he strikes gold. Your mouth falls open as you tremble, moans bouncing off the empty surfaces in the kitchen. “Is that your sweet spot?” Tom teases, buried so close in you that his nose nudges up against your bud. As his fingers continue to stimulate the spongy rise of your walls, you can barely think straight.
“Yeah,” you manage, everything feeling hot.
Tom hums. “That’s right, gorgeous… Shit, you’re so tight around my fingers, aren’t you? Got a snug little pussy… Makes me wonder what you’ll feel like around my cock.”
As Tom lays out his inner monologue, all you can think about is how good it’ll feel with his length pulsing inside you. The mere thought of being pressed down and filled to the brim by the handsome man on his knees in front of you makes you cry out, and you can barely stammer out a few words in warning before his lips are closing around your bud again and you’re spiralling into climax.
Everything blurs together, and you’re so glad that Tom has his hand pressing your hip into the counter otherwise you know you’d end up squirming away from the intense centre of pleasure that he brings you into. His fingers coax at your spot until you’re tearing up, his mouth so wet and unrelenting that every time you think the peak has ended, it just keeps coming.
It is by far the most intense orgasm you’ve felt in your life, and you know, deep down, that it stems from the sense of security you feel with Tom. He has nothing but your best intentions at the heart of all his actions, holds you firmly in the centre of his universe. Nothing exemplifies that more than the way his first action following him finishing you off is to climb to his knees, wipe the streaks of your cum from his mouth, then cup your cheek in his clean hand and kiss you.
You’re shaking slightly, uneasy on your feet and glad that Tom’s hold on you is so strong. He’s gentle with his kisses, leaving soft pecks over your lips. As you taste some of your sweetness on his mouth, you wind your hands around to sit in his hair, perching on his head like a crown.
“Thank you,” you say against him, words mumbled. Tom shifts his lips to kiss your nose, and the way that your cheeks heat up in response makes you smile shyly. You run a hand down, following the line of his figure. “Do you want me to—” a soft yawn slips through your lips, and Tom pulls away to shake his head.
“No,” he says. As if sensing the fall in your mood, Tom’s quick to add, “I mean, darling, I am so turned on right now,” the tips of his teeth flash white as he chuckles, “but you’re exhausted, and I’m exhausted… So, how about I take you home, and we can pick this up another night?” Nerves tickle his features.
“How are you real?” you find yourself saying, words drifting together. The afterglow of such an intense climax mixes with the love-drunk and the fatigue, and you think you must be looking at Tom with eyes the shapes of love hearts. He looks as though he’s doused in soft pink, each one of his features warmer and more inviting, even as he cracks a confused smile and tilts his head to the side.
“What do you mean?”
You nibble your lower lip. “You’re so handsome,” you murmur, “and kind. Generous.” You smooth a thumb over his cheekbone, feeling his skin heat as he blushes. “Am I dreaming right now?”
Tom hums. He finally releases you, then bends over in front of you and gently helps you back into your clothes, kissing at your shins before responding.
“Feels like a dream to me too,” he says, pulling your trousers up your legs. When he reaches your thighs, you take over, wriggling into them as Tom stands up again. “I’ve spent so long thinking about kissing you, and now…”
You step away from the counter and kiss him. “How does the real thing compare?”
He smiles. Tom nudges his nose against yours, then presses his lips against the tip of it, and takes your hand in his.
“Even better,” he promises. “So much better.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
In the blink of an eye, seven days pass.
Both you and Sam find yourselves gutted when you’re unable to go to Tom’s first shows in the West End, confined to the kitchen for the entire duration of his opening weekend with the promise of the critic’s visit on an unspecified day. Tom sends you photos and videos, and you see a wall of positive press surrounding his name in the headlines, but it doesn’t feel quite the same.
You wish you could be there each night, sitting front row, watching someone you’ve grown so fond of live out his dream, but you can’t. You’re focused on your own dream. For now, you have to make do with the backstage videos Tom sends you, and the snippets of information you get from him each night he calls you to recount his night on stage. There are worse things than falling asleep on the line with Tom Holland, and you find yourself quite enjoying dreaming about him.
Your guilt is still there, but it’s hidden. Everything you feel is hidden. You only allow your heart to beat freely when you’re alone with Tom, and he’s kissing you, or talking to you, and you feel everything soften. After much negotiation, you’ve come to the agreement that you will tell Sam—you will—just not until the critic’s visit. You value transparency with your best friend, but if he reacts negatively and your relationship suffers because of it, that might put stress on your ability to work as a team—and you need to be a team to get a high rating.
The fact that Sam is completely oblivious just makes it easier to keep him in the dark. He’s suspicious of your behaviour but seems completely blind to the connection between you and Tom.
So whilst Sam is stressed about the visit from the critic, you’re contending with a whole other layer of complex emotions: it’s Sunday now, and as soon as you close, the critic’s visit will have happened. You’ll have no more excuses to keep him in the dark, and as much as Tom’s grown fond of you, you know he feels the need to tell Sam too. There will be no more walls to hide behind, and that realisation makes you jumpy.
“Okay, okay, okay… Shit. Fuck. Bollocks. Oh my god.” Sam breaks off to wheeze a nervous breath, his hands curling around the edge of the kitchen counter as he looks up at you, aghast. “Why the fuck did we decide to do this? Good lord. If the critic hates us, then we’re done, Y/N. We- we- we’ll have no money left or a restaurant. Fuck…” He whips off his hat and tugs on his bun, shaking his head disastrously. “Jesus fucking Ch—”
“Shhhh,” you say. “Calm down, Sam.”
Sam shakes his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pauses, and you watch as he takes a shaky breath before looking up at you. “Who do you think the critic will be? What do you think that they’ll order? Will they come tonight? Did they come yesterday?”
You pass him a bottle of water and glance at your watch. “I don’t know, Sam,” you respond. “Neither of us know anything, so let’s just view this as a normal night.”
“I’m sure they didn’t come yesterday,” Sam continues. You watch as he fixes his hair, stuffs his head into his hat, then washes his hands again. “I was talking to Lorelai, from Pop Your Cherry? She said when they had their visit, the critic left a note on the receipt with 3-stars drawn on it. Then, come Monday morning, the review was posted.”
You find yourself biting your lip. You’re quiet for a few moments as you try to distract yourself with some carrots. The restaurant has only just opened, and you’re still finishing the preliminary vegetable prep as you wait on first orders. The kitchen is full of the other chefs too, but they seem to know to give you and Sam a wide berth. They’ve been witness to your shared frenzy since opening yesterday. They know how much this means to you.
“Maybe,” you agree, speaking over the sounds of your knife. “Maybe not, though. Can we just pretend that it’s a normal night?”
Sam’s hum is rather disheartened, and you bite your lip. For a few minutes, you work in silence, but then he sighs and walks around the counter to offer you a fist.
“Let’s smash it, yeah?” he says. When he meets your eyes, he cracks a nervous smile.
You knock your fist against his. “Yeah,” you agree. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”
Sam nods. He unbuttons the tight sleeve of his chef coat before gesturing for you to do the same. Feeling sentimental, you pass your fingers over the tattoo that you have, pricked just below your wrist. It’s a small symbol of a frying pan, with the constellation of your birth chart and Sam’s woven in the middle. The tattoo matches the one on to Sam’s wrist, and you’d gotten them together two years ago during a very drunk night out in Greece. It’s your tradition to bump them together before every service, and the night never seems to go well without completing the ritual.
“Right,” Sam mutters. He looks almost tearful as he holds his sleeve out for you to rebutton, and in return, his nimble fingers move over yours, popping them back into place. “Let’s do this!”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧
The hours pass by in a blur of sweet aromas, loud pans, and heat. The tension in the kitchen melts the longer you’re cooking, and once you’re past the halfway mark, Sam’s back to smiling. You both come to accept the fact that the critic has probably already eaten, probably drawn their conclusions, and that you’ll just need to be patient.
Still, you put everything into your work. You’re even with the sauce distribution, careful to sear each cut of meat to perfection. Sam, likewise, acts with the same level of high precision, as does everyone else in the kitchen. It’s a team effort, and at closing, you celebrate with a large bottle of champagne, passing it around the team and sharing in a few minutes of relieved chatter before dismissing everyone for the weekend.
You end up sitting on a counter with Sam, resting beside him as he shows off some of the photos and videos his mum had sent him from backstage at Tom’s show. You’re waiting on the man of the hour to materialise and take you both home, Tom having developed the doting habit of dropping you off en route, despite your flat being in a completely different direction to his and Sam’s house. As you sit beside Sam, it makes you slightly emotional to see the photos taken from the end of the night, with Tom in costume, bowing on stage to applause, with the brightest smile on his face.
“I wish I could’ve been there,” Sam admits, frowning sourly as he scrolls through his camera roll. “I feel like a shit brother.”
You nudge his arm gently. “You’re not,” you soothe. “You were busy.”
“But still…”
“He doesn’t always make it to the things that are important to you, but does that make you love him any less?”
Sam shakes his head. He scrunches up the tip of his nose as he turns to look at you, a relieved smile on his face. “Thanks, Y/N,” he says quietly. “You’re a good friend.”
“The best friend,” you clarify.
He releases a teasing sound. “I don’t know… Are you my best friend?”
“You’re my best friend, so I hope that I’m yours,” you return, knowing he’s teasing but still finding your heart panging with unease. It fades when Sam dissolves into a cackle.
“Of course, idiot,” he says. “God, your face then… Y/N, you’re one of my favourite people. You’re like my sister.” Sam pauses, clearing his throat slightly as he sits up straighter. “And… And I know that there’s been something going on with you recently,” he adds, “and clearly you don’t want to talk about it with me. That’s fine, I— I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you want to talk.”
Sam looks so sad, sitting beside you, pouting. You almost tell him the truth. The words are on the tip of your tongue, a grand admission of guilt to going behind his back and getting with his brother, but you find the words dying in the back of your throat. As you struggle to string together a coherent sentence, the universe steps in.
“Sam, Y/N!” It’s Lauren, the restaurant host, calling through a gap in the door that connects the main body of the restaurant to the kitchen. “Tom’s here!”
Immediately, you relax. Sam seems slightly irritated as if he could sense you were on the verge of confessing, but that fades as he processes Lauren’s words and turns to stare at you, wide-eyed. “Shit,” Sam mutters. “Have you got the, uh…”
“Yes,” you supply. You push his shoulder. “Stall him. I’ll go get them.”
Hurrying into the back storeroom, you spend a few moments rummaging around the shelves and cupboards. A relieved sigh falls past your lips as you see the bouquet of roses that you’d spent an obscene amount of money putting together at the florist earlier. The luxurious paper crinkles beneath your fingers as you hold it delicately in your hands, hiding it behind your back as you carefully walk through to the restaurant.
Tom’s chatting with Sam, the two of them leaning up against the bar. Just after midnight, the restaurant is empty, the tables clean and the main lights off. Most of the staff have gone home, and those of you left are in looser attire and tired. Tom fits the bill perfectly. Fresh off stage, he’s in a hoodie and a pair of jeans, his hair still slicked back from his stage makeup, but a dopey grin on his face. When he spots you, he stands a little straighter, his smile flickering wider.
“Hi,” you call out. Sam pushes away from the bar and comes to stand at your side, grinning impishly.
Tom looks between you both, brows furrowing. “Hi?” he replies.
You pull out the bunch of roses, and Tom’s face softens. After a quick glance at Sam, the two of you speak together, your words almost syncing up, “congratulations on your opening weekend!”
He coos, lips rolling into an appreciative pout as he steps forwards to take the flowers. Tom brings them to his face, sniffing dramatically before nodding his head in approval.
“Thank you so much,” he says, looking only at you. “These are so lovely.”
You smile. “You’re welcome,” you respond. “You deserve it.”
Sam hums in agreement. “Yeah, bro,” he says. He steps away, looking at you for a moment. “I’m going to finish in the kitchen, but Y/N, do you want to come back to ours? We can have a few drinks, maybe celebrate getting through this crazy weekend? You can stay over, too.”
You find yourself nodding. “Yeah, sounds good,” you agree. Sam throws you a thumbs up before walking back into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him.
Your eyes glance around the restaurant, and you realise it’s just you and Tom remaining. He seems to have a similar thought as he delicately puts the flowers down on the top of the bar before extending his hands towards you. After biting your lip and double-checking that the door leading through the kitchen is completely shut, you tentatively step forwards, allowing his hands to link with yours.
“Thank you,” Tom repeats, pulling you into a quick hug. When he releases you, he squeezes your hands before letting his palms drop to your waist. Instinctively, yours shift up to twirl into his hair, your fingertips rubbing over the hair gel in his strands.
“It’s okay,” you say. It’s a little hard to breathe, standing so close to him. Tom’s eyes are rapt with attention, his irises a dazzling shade of golden brown. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the show.”
He releases a soft tsking sound. “Nonsense,” he murmurs. Tom walks you back, glancing up at the kitchen before pressing you against the bar. One of his hands travels to cup your cheek, and he moves in close. “You were busy with your own adventure, darling. I’m proud of you too.”
Biting at your lip, you feel the tip of your nose brush up against his. “Still,” you say. “I’m sure you did very well.”
Tom shrugs. His warm breath comes out across your face, and you find yourself leaning closer just as he does, meeting in the middle for a soft kiss. His lips are gentle and slightly chapped, and you feel yourself exhale as he kisses you lightly. Tom leaves a series of pecks to your mouth, jumping back a little every time you hear noises of Sam moving around pots and pans in the kitchen, but he fights the unease just as you, savouring the kisses over acting clandestinely.
“We need to tell him,” Tom mumbles, still kissing you. He strokes his fingertips over your cheek as you pull away from his lips, pressing your forehead to his instead.
“Tomorrow,” you decide.
Tom hums. “Okay,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.” The kisses return, and you find yourself wrapping yourself up in his arms. The way that he cradles your face feels so romantic, so gentle. “I love kissing you,” Tom mumbles, secrets whispered against your lips between kisses. “I love touching you… Your lips are so soft, darling. I think about them all the time. I...”
Cutting into your daydream comes the loud squeaking sound of the kitchen door opening, and in a moment of panic, you push Tom away. He releases a soft noise of complaint before catching on, and you feel your lips tingle as you turn around to see the sight of the kitchen door wide open. Your heart feels like it’s beating in the back of your throat, but you feel the intense sensation lessen as you realise that Sam is there, but he’s leaning against the door, facing into the kitchen as he talks to someone. He throws out a casual goodbye before turning to you and Tom, no hint that he’s witnessed anything showing on his face.
“Right, guys,” he calls out. “Lauren’s locking the back, so we can do the front.” He comes over to you, passes you your jacket, and then holds up his hand to Tom for a fistbump. “Let’s get home and get pissed!”
You push your arms into your jacket, exchanging a shy smile with Tom who nods. As Sam walks up towards the door, Tom briefly reaches out to you, squeezing your hand before letting you go again. He draws away, and you find yourself staring after him, the overwhelming sensation of yearning stirring in your heart. Even without his touch, you feel him, like an imprint on your skin, a mark on your heart.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧
Following a few hours stowed away in the living room, nursing a few beers and sharing some very exciting stories, Sam leaves you with a duvet and a pillow on the sofa downstairs. He doesn’t find it at all suspicious when Tom lingers behind in the kitchen, too tired and tipsy to have picked up on your closeness to his brother all evening, let alone the way Tom refuses to stray from your side. Sam’s obliviousness makes your guilt worsen, but you damp it down as you remind yourself you’ll tell him tomorrow.
With your reluctance thrown into a box and stashed away for the morning, you let Tom coax you from the sofa and tug you up to his room, his hands skimming over your figure in the darkness of the staircase and the halls. The moment you’re in his bedroom, he pushes you up against the door and lets your lips come back together.
“Finally,” he groans, kissing you harshly. When you let your hands fall into his hair, Tom grunts softly. “God… Finally.”
You laugh into the kiss, humming a sound of agreement. You make out for a while, but it doesn’t take long for Tom to move in close enough for you to make out the length of his cock, pressing up against your thigh. You pull back to stare at him.
He really is handsome, with his lips a bright pink and his hair messed up. His eyes sparkle with desire, needy hands running across the skin of your sides. He’d slipped them beneath your shirt a few minutes prior, and with each rotation of his fingers over your skin, you feel yourself growing needier. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you slip your hand down, placing it between your leg and his crotch and smirking as Tom grunts.
“Can I…?”
Tom tilts his head to the side. “What?”
You bite your lip. “Can I suck you off?”
His cheeks darken slightly, and he starts to nod. “Fuck yeah, love,” he murmurs. Tom stands back, but then he hesitates. You watch as his eyes drift over your figure, taking in the fit of your grey joggers and your hoodie. He licks his lips before looking back at you. “Actually… I have an idea.”
Tom takes your hand, and you let him pull you over to the bed. The mattress creaks softly as he pushes you onto it, kissing you softly before suspending himself above you.
“I want to make you feel good, too,” he admits. “We could, uh... kill two birds with one stone?”
A chuckle falls past your lips as you realise what he’s talking about. “A 69?”
Tom nods. “Please.” He has his hand on your waist, drawing patterns over your hoodie. He blinks up at you, mischief in his eyes. “I want to taste you again,” he adds, voice a quiet murmur.
Your breath hitches. “Okay.”
It isn’t a position you’ve done before, and you’ve only been with Tom as intimately as this once. Yet, your nerves are assuaged as he’s gentle with you, peeling off your clothes and following each inch of exposed skin with his lips. By the time you’re down to your underwear, arousal overpowers everything else, and you find yourself looking at him with challenge in your eyes.
Pushing Tom down onto the bed, you straddle the lower part of his chest and gently start to kiss down his torso. Thick lines of warm muscle greet your lips, and as you draw your mouth over each dip and ridge, you find yourself feeling closer to him. He has a hand in your hair, resting over the strands as he gently guides you down, letting you take your time as you go.
By the time you reach his boxers, you feel excitement pulsing between your own legs. When Tom raises his hips and gives you access to roll down his boxers, a soft gasp falls past your lips. His cock springs up, and the groan he emits when you settle between his thighs and take him into your mouth makes your cunt throb.
“Oh god yeah,” Tom mutters, hand tightening around your hair. You look up at him, keeping eye contact as you widen your lips and take him deeper, his precum seeping across your tongue. “Shit, darling… Shit.”
He’s long, and you find yourself wrapping a spit-slicked palm around the bottom of Tom’s length. The sight of his lower stomach tensing as a stream of curses falls from his lips is enough to boost your ego, encouraging you to take him deeper, to move your tongue with more purpose. He’s jumpy against the mattress, his breathing uneven and prone to sudden hitches, and you get the sense that he’s near the edge when he suddenly speaks up.
“C’mere,” he calls out, voice laboured. “I don’t want to- to blow it before I help you feel good, too.” Tom cracks a lazy smirk. “And you’re really good with that mouth, darling… Too good,” he adds.
You pull back, mouth feeling empty. Yet you comfort yourself with the knowledge that it’ll only be for a few moments, and pull off your panties and bra as you tentatively crawl up the bed. It’s dim in the room, but Tom has a few candles on his nightstand, and as he draws you in for a brief kiss, the scent of honeysuckle drifts over you. His hands roam down to your ass, growing needier until he breaks the kiss and gently coaxes you to turn around.
“Are you—” you break off, biting your lip as you look at him. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to hurt you.”
Tom arches an eyebrow, but his expression remains soft. “You won’t hurt me,” he promises. “I can take it. I want to take it.” He runs a hand over your bare back, eyes hungry. “I want you to ride my face, darling. Please?” He pouts, and it’s a done deal.
Turning around completely, you settle into a very loose position, your body suspended above his. You don’t immediately rest over him, instead, take your time to kiss the tops of his thighs before taking him in your mouth again, teasing him until the beads of precum are back at his tip. As they leak onto your tongue, Tom wraps his arms around your thighs and gently tugs you back onto his face.
Your moans are muffled by his cock, but they’re still audible. As Tom’s hot tongue slips through your slit again, you’re reminded of how mind-blowing your first encounter like this had been. Even the memory of how he’d had you shaking against the kitchen counter is enough to have your arousal building, and it doesn’t surprise you when he pushes his tongue into your hole and obscene sounds of gushing wetness fill the air.
Verbally, neither of you are able to communicate, but you both find your ways. You groan as he laps over your clit with fervour, and Tom responds to your deepthroating by moaning loudly against your cunt. The vibrations drive you mad, triggering your own soft whimpers, and if the way Tom’s hips jump from the bed is any indication, he enjoys the sensation of noise smearing across his length.
You get close quickly. There’s something so intimately distant about the position, in the way that his hands squeeze at your thighs so perfectly as he devours your slit with his mouth. Tom’s devoted—learning the intricacies of your body, responding to every one of the movements and sounds that you make until he’s figured out, through touch alone, every single thing he needs to do to get you on the edge. He’s getting close too, with his hips jumping from the bed every time you pull back just to deepthroat him again. When you manage to slide all the way down, to the point where your nose tickles his pubic hair, Tom groans loudly.
“Oh fuck,” he pants, voice wrecked. “Shit,” he adds. He draws his tongue through your slit for a final time before sitting back. When you glance over your shoulder, you find him glassy-eyed, face smeared in saliva. “Get up here, gorgeous girl,” he whines. He smooths a hand over one of your ass cheeks, his palm hot against your skin. “I need you. Properly.”
By the time you settle in Tom’s lap, he’s got a condom in his hand. He glances at you, cheeks flushed a rosy pink shade that makes him look cherubic and sweet. He bites his lip when you reach out to take the packet.
“May I?” you ask.
“You may,” he replies, and both of you laugh. His chuckle fades as he watches you pinch the tip of the condom before rolling it down his cock, Tom’s face clouding with enjoyment when you finish and give his length a few pumps. “God,” he mutters, jaw tensing. “I need you so bad, Y/N.”
You sit forwards, reaching down and guiding his length through your slit. You’re desperate too, folds slick and giving off heat as you slide the crown of his cock across your core. When you poise him at your entrance, you pause to drop your head and kiss his neck. “Are you ready?” you ask.
“Yes,” he says immediately. “Let me feel you— oh.”
You lower yourself onto him, slick walls parting to allow him in and Tom groans loudly. Immediately you surge forward, catching the noisy sound with your lips. As you cup his cheek in one hand, you peck him a further few times, resting near him as you whisper, “quiet, baby. You don’t want to wake anyone up.”
He nods, looking momentarily sheepish, but as you rise up again only to drop down into his lap, he has to bite his lip and throw his head back in order to disguise the sound. He grips your waist tighter, panting as he stares at you through heavy eyes.
“But you feel so good,” he grunts, raising his hips as you come down on him again. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment as the edge of his crown nudges up against your g-spot, hard and warm and stimulating your intimacies just as you crave. “God, darling… Oh my god… You’re so wet… Holding me so tight.”
You hold his shoulders with a little more strength, taking advantage of the firm lines of his muscles for support as you ride Tom with building confidence. Watching him falling apart beneath you and listening to the rolls of praise he pours over you helps you go faster, encourages you to swivel your hips and come down over him harder.
“You’re in so deep,” you find yourself saying, voice catching as his tip continuously brushes up against your spot. “Feels so good, Tommy.”
Tom groans and you watch his eyelids fall shut as he hears the nickname. His hands dig into your waist deeper, and he starts to guide you as his hips roll up to meet your rotations. “Oh god,” he mutters. His eyes open again, pupils blown wide as he watches you move. “Shit… I’m so lucky.”
You manage a breathless laugh, smiling slightly. You mutter out a few words of thanks before falling silent again, feeling warmth beginning to pool in the pit of your stomach. It’s only spurred on when Tom winds a hand between your legs and his index finger finds your bud, attaching to its rise and stroking over it until you’re shaking.
Despite the mounting pleasure, you’re also aware of a building ache in your knees, and you find yourself wincing as you come down over Tom. He notices immediately, lips sagging as he reaches up to hold the side of your face. “Are you okay?” he checks, eyes wide.
A soft smile finds your lips. “Can we change position?” you ask. “My legs hurt.”
He nods. “‘Course, darling,” Tom murmurs. He gives you a devilish smirk before adding, “variety is the spice of life,” and pushing you back onto the bed. As your back sinks into the mattress and part your legs, you laugh, only for the sound to pitch higher as Tom slides back into you with ease, groaning into your neck. “Shh,” he adds, kissing your neck afterwards. “Let me make you cum.”
Tom sets a faster pace than you had, and it seems to be exactly what you both need. Your fingers dig into the hard expanse of his back, nails catching on his skin as your head rolls back. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, especially when Tom reaches down and pulls one of your thighs around his waist, pushing you open. As his tip brushes up against your g-spot, stars come to your eyes.
“Oh god,” you mutter. “Right there, Tommy.” You slip a hand between you, moaning louder as you touch your clit in time to his thrusts. “Keep doing that, oh fuck.”
“Is that your spot?” he murmurs, voice rasping into your ear. Tom’s purposefully fucking into the same spot, driving his cock harder against your g-spot as your walls spasm around him. As if translating your high-pitched whine, he hums. “You just got so tight around me, lovie,” he adds. His forehead lulls down to briefly rest against yours, and you meet his eyes as he pounds into you. “Can’t wait to cum in you, darling. Feels so good with your pussy around my cock like this… Like fucking heaven.”
You’re moaning loudly, and you have to push your hand over your mouth to muffle the noises. “I’m almost there,” you manage, voice hoarse. Tom’s grunting into you, the small sounds focused and composed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
It comes over you suddenly, crashing in heavy waves that pulse out from your centre. As you writhe on the bed, Tom picks up his pace, biting his lip until his hips start to stammer against yours. He curses loudly too, and you feel his cock pulse as he drives in a little deeper. He keeps moving, allowing you to ride it out too until he slowly, achingly pulls out from you, causing you to whimper.
For a few moments, Tom slumps against you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as you both recover breath. Your hand moves up to sit in his sweaty curls, and you hear him release a noise of appreciation as you play with the strands.
“That was so good,” he moans, finally mustering up the strength to sit up, balanced on his forearms. He planks over you for a second before sitting on his knees, his hands moving up to gently rest on the curves of your breasts. “So good,” he emphasises.
You nod, smilingly shyly. “Thank you,” you say.
Tom licks his lips. “Thank you,” he returns, then reaches down and coaxes one of your hands to his mouth. As his lips move over your knuckles, he looks down at you adoringly. “I’m going to go and clean up,” he decides, then stands up with a grunt. He stays beside the mattress, leaning over to admire you, his eyes skating over your face almost in search of injury until his expression fades into one of gentle love. He places a quick kiss on your lips before standing properly and walking away.
You stretch your arms above your head as you pant for breath, glancing across the room to watch as Tom walks into the ensuite and vanishes from sight. When he reappears, in a pair of sweats and with a cloth in his hand, you sit up on your elbows.
“Thank you,” you say, accepting the wet towel. Tom hums, leaning over to kiss your forehead before he walks around the bed. When he flops down beside you, he’s quick to snuggle beneath the covers, and you wait until you’re dressed, clean, and sleepy to get in beside him and curl into his arms “Tom…?”
“Yeah, darling?”
“Variety is the spice of life?” you question, amusement seeping into your voice.
Tom groans, wrapping you closer until he’s got your face pressed to his chest. Your legs tangle together, one of his hands holding the back of your head.
“Shut it,” he whines. “It’s embarrassing. I was just thinking, because, you know… You are a chef… And… I don’t know, Y/N. I lost my marbles.”
You snort, then pull up and away from his chest. As your cheek presses into the pillow, you find your eyes tracing the darkened outline of his face. One of your hands drifts up, your fingers curving along his jaw as you rest your thumb on the bottom of his chin, resting in the small dent there.
“It was funny,” you say, “but also really cute.” You shift closer when he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute.”
Tom hums. “I dunno,” he murmurs, voice tired. “I think you’re quite cute, actually.”
“Can’t we both be cute?”
“God, you’re so clever, too.”
You smile, letting your hand drop down from his face. As it skates down to rest beneath the warmth of the duvet, you feel Tom delicately pick it up, only to intertwine your pinkies a moment later. His thumb rolls over the back of your palm, and you hear him stifle a yawn.
“Are you tired?” you ask. Tom hums. “We should sleep… It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah. And a long night.” You can almost hear the suggestiveness in his voice, and it brings a fond smile to your face. “I hope you have the sweetest dreams, m’love,” he drawls. His accent is stronger, drawn forth by his fatigue.
“Night night, Tom,” you return. You’re comfortable in his arms, feel at ease with him wrapped around you securely. “See you in the morning.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
You wake up in Tom’s arms, the two of you wrapped in the same intimate position that you’d drifted off in last night. As you blearily wonder if he’s awake, you find his small movements solving that question for you.
Light fingertips pad over your waist, caressing the spot where your shirt has risen up, dancing like he’s entertaining himself with his fingers. Tom’s other hand is perched on the pillow, his fingertips gently playing with the ends of your hair. You open your eyes just as he starts to gently kiss across the side of your face, the sheets rustling as he tries to get closer to you. Sheepishness crosses his face as Tom realises he’s woken you, but you soothe him by shooting him a smile. Tom hums, his eyes warm like pools of light honey beneath the morning light.
Suddenly, a loud crash sounds through the house. Tom stops pressing kisses to your hairline, holding you a little tighter as you both listen to the sounds drifting up from the kitchen.
“Fucking hell! Fuck! Y/N? Harry— fuck, go find Y/N? Why isn’t she on the couch— don’t just stand there, go get her! It’s here.”
You sit up immediately, feeling the sheets pool down to your waist as your early morning reprieve shatters. The yells are Sam’s, and you know exactly what he’s screaming about. With wide eyes, you look down at Tom, still lying down in bed but looking more alert by the second.
“Go,” he urges, voice rough. He gently pushes at your back, and you realise you’re still wearing his shirt from the night before. “Must be the review.”
You’re quick to wake up and find yourself hopping around Tom’s bedroom as you pull on a pair of sweats and try to run your fingers through your hair. “Do I look okay?” you ask, sputtering with your hand on Tom’s doorknob.
“You always look beautiful—”
“No,” you manage to pause to shoot him a soft smile. “Do I look like we fucked last night?”
Tom hesitates, and you watch his eyes twist over your figure. “Uhhh—”
“Y/N! Y/N! Come here right now!”
You make a clicking noise. “Fuck,” you say and open the door anyway. “I need to go and see him. Don’t come down for a few minutes or he’ll catch on.”
You vault down the staircase, almost knocking over Harry on the landing in your anxious haste. Sam’s yells have been loud enough to drown out any tone inflexions, so you can’t tell if his response has been positive or negative. When you burst into the kitchen and find him sitting up on a barstool, his eyes are wild and frenzied. He thrusts the phone towards you, the screen blank.
“I got the email,” he says, speaking quickly. Sam is bright-eyed and jittery, shrugged in a pair of blue plaid pyjamas with his hair a mess. His lower lip is bitten red. “I haven’t opened it. I can’t. I can’t do it without you.” Sam passes you his phone, then reaches out to grip your upper arm. “Fuck, Y/N, what if it’s bad.”
You swallow back your nerves as you type the password into Sam’s phone and find yourself looking at his emails. The top one reads Far From Flavour, and you feel yourself shiver.
“Oh my god,” you say. “Okay… Okay.”
“Open it. Tell me what it says.”
Sam’s grip on your arm is tight and intense, but you find yourself grateful for the grounding presence. You’re dimly aware of more people wandering into the room, Harry, Tom, Haz and Tuwaine, all lingering in the doorway, but you’re more focused on the email. After steeling yourself, you press the email.
You scroll down the text, eyes jumping over blocks of text until you find the link to their website. Holding your breath, you click it. The site takes a few moments to load, and you almost drop the phone when it does.
“Fucking hell…” you mutter.
Sam punches your arm. “What does it say? Y/N— what does it say?”
A huge smile splits across your face. You look up at him with wide, tearful eyes.
“Five,” you utter. “Five stars. They gave us five out of five.”
Sam’s jaw drops. He stands from the stool and settles at your side, releasing a loud noise of celebration as he sees the formal rating listed at the bottom too.
Atmosphere: ★★★★★ Flavour: ★★★★★ Originality: ★★★★★ Presentation: ★★★★★
“Fucking smashed it, mate!” he exclaims. Sam pulls you into a relieved hug, and you feel him shaking as he buries his head briefly in the crook of your neck.
Behind you, you can hear the others clapping and hooting. You’re fairly sure Tuwaine emits a low whistle. A moment later, you feel a few more arms come around you, a group hug spreading out from where you’re holding Sam. In your chest, your heart feels warm, the sensation only deepening when you pull away from Sam and find yourself in Tom’s arms.
“I am so proud of you, darling,” he says. Tom’s hair is messy, but his eyes are wide with misty appreciation. The smile on his face is massive, and it only grows as he cups your cheek in a warm hand. “You deserve this so much.”
Caught up in the warmth of the atmosphere, you don’t check him as he leans in and kisses you boldly. His lips are praising and celebratory, and they feel so warm against yours that you forget you’re not alone. Your hands move up to loop around his neck, Tom’s own coming down to rest on your waist, and you sink into it as exhilarated joy fills every part of you.
“What the fuck.”
After only a moment, you spring back from Tom, Sam’s expression of horror striking you like a lightning bolt. You jump to face him, one of your arms falling away from Tom’s neck as the other lodges in his hair, finding comfort in his strands. Sam’s looking at you, eyes wide, face quickly flushing.
“Sam, I…”
“What the fuck,” he repeats. Beside him, Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine look equally shocked, but they all seem less abhorred. “Y/N… and… oh my god… Wait….” Sam points between you. “Oh. Good god. When did this… Wait, no. No, no, no. This is so weird. Bloody hell. What the fuck. What the fuck.”
You glance at Tom, who delicately pulls away from your form. He squeezes your waist before walking to Sam, letting his hands fall on his younger brother’s shoulders.
“Sam. Sammy. Sam. Listen, bro… We were going to tell you today.”
“Tell me what?”
Feeling the urge to help Tom out, you walk over to Sam too. You cross your arms over your chest as you take a steadying breath. “You’ve always said that you want me to be happy,” you start, speaking quietly. “And that— and that I deserve to be with someone who treats me well.”
Sam gives a firm nod of the head. His expression is unreadable, brows furrowed, lips pulled into a tight line.
“Tom treats me better than anyone else ever has,” you continue. “He makes me really happy, Sam. And I’m sorry— we’re both sorry for keeping things a secret. We didn’t want to hurt you.”
Sam chews on his lower lip as his eyes shift from Tom to you, then back to Tom again. “Are you dating?”
Tom shifts at your side. “Yes,” he says, coaxing a soft smile to your face.
Your friend scowls as he glares at Tom. “Wanker,” he mutters. Sam releases a shuddering breath. “How long?”
“About a month,” Tom replies.
Sam nods curtly. “Tom, you are my brother, and I love you.” He steps closer, and you watch as Sam shakes Tom’s hands off his shoulders and mirrors the position, wrapping his fingers around Tom’s shoulders in a way that looks tight. “But I will fuck you up if you ever hurt Y/N.”
“I would never do that. Never.”
Sam gives a resolved nod, his eyes burning with less ferocity. “Okay,” he decides. “Fine.”
You find yourself releasing a breath. “Are you… okay with this?” you manage, voice quiet.
Sam steps back, then looks at you with an uneasy smile. “It’s not really my place to stop you from being together,” he says. “I want you to be happy, both of you. Just… Just please don’t do anything disgusting in front of me until I get used to… this. I want to be happy for you, but it will take me a little bit of time.”
“Of course not,” Tom responds. “There will be no unacceptable behaviour.” He reaches out and wraps an arm around you, coaxing you into his side. You feel the weight of the world roll from your shoulders as you sink into him.
“Good, good…” Sam releases a loud chuckle, and he shoots you a smile. “Fuck,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. He laughs again. “Shit, I’m so blind. Everything makes sense now. All the sneaking around, and how you’d get so weird whenever I asked about Tom… Wait.” The tip of his nose scrunches up. “Oh, fucking hell. Please don’t tell me you’ve shagged in the kitchen.”
Tom glances at you, then gently pulls you with him as he steps back a few paces. “We, uh… We’re going to go back upstairs,” he says, his voice full of amusement. “Congrats, Sam!”
“Hey! Bastards! You’re paying to get the whole thing redone, Tom! How am I supposed to work in there knowing that—”
“—Just don’t think about it!” you call back, laughing as Tom takes your hand and pulls you out of the kitchen. Sam’s still shouting as Tom jerks you up the stairs, both of you laughing.
Relief makes you feel like you’re floating in the clouds, and the bubble lasts as Tom pulls you back into his bedroom and sweeps you into a kiss, his lips connected with yours even as you fall back onto his bed together. As your thighs spread across his lap, Tom holds you close, cuddling you as he kisses over every part of your face, eliciting soft laughs from your mouth as you respond to the light tickling of his loving lips.  
“He took that pretty well,” Tom murmurs, done with his kisses. He brings his hands up to settle on your cheeks. “A lot better than I thought he would.”
“Mmm, yeah.” You let your fingers play with the curls of his hair. “Thank fuck.”
As his fingertips roll across your cheekbones, it feels like he’s imprinting their outline to memory.
“I’m falling in love with you, Y/N,” Tom says suddenly, dipping his head as he closes his eyes. His nose presses to yours. “I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”
You stroke your hands through his hair, feeling how tense his entire body has seized with the revelation. “Me too, Tom,” you whisper. “You make me so nervous.”
Tom relaxes. You smile as he chuckles and tilts his face forwards to kiss you gently. “Well, I am incredibly famous,” he whispers, “that’s understandable.”
A loud snort leaves your mouth. “Self-absorbed twat,” you mutter. “I’m dumping you.”
Tom hums, a mischievous spark glinting in his eyes. “Oh, are we official now?”
You open your mouth to say yes—yes, of course, we are—only to stop when you realise that you aren’t. You’ve never had that conversation before.
“Oh, uh… I guess we aren’t, I’m sorry—”
“Shhh.” Tom kisses you again. “I’m teasing you, Y/N. I’m being a twat. Of course we’re together.” He pulls back, a shadow of a doubt crossing your face as he adds, “uh, but only if you want that, too. I don’t want to be presumptuous.”
You laugh. “My boyfriend is a dick,” you announce. You shift in his lap to get a better look at him, enjoying the way that the early morning sunbeams cascade across part of his face. The warmth of the light tickles his cheeks, draws a lightness to his eyes that makes them glow. “You’re supposed to be nice to me. I thought you’re falling in love with me?”
Tom tilts his head to the side, a lazy smirk hanging from his lips. You squeal as he flips you suddenly, pressing you down into the mattress as he wriggles on top of you. His hot lips find your jaw, and you giggle as he kisses all the lower part of your face.
“Sorry, my lovely girlfriend,” he murmurs, finally landing on your lips. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, and he stares into your eyes with love in his gaze. “How can I make it up to you?”
Tom cradles you close, and you wonder how this happened, how he came to be embedded so firmly in your heart. His love has laid root deep within your chest. Your soul has grown around him, made space for him, learnt to move around him. And as Tom strokes a hand over your cheek again, you realise that you’re happier than you’ve ever been in your life.
“Oh,” you say, running your hands over his back. He looks at you, mischief in his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
and there we go! writing this was challenging on so many levels (....i rewrote one of the scenes five times, which left me with 10k surplus words that didn’t make it into the final edit cjdjsndn) but i really really hope the end product was worth reading :’) i would love to know what you think!
do you have a favourite scene or favourite moment? please let me know!!!!!!! <3
thank you for reading! i hope you have a wonderful day <3
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starktonyx · a year ago
Jealous (Peter Parker x reader)
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Word count: 3.6k
Request by anon: Peter Parker jealous of Y/n bc she’s seeing a guy, they argued and in the middle of the fight, he kisses her with passion (cheesy, I know) and declares his feelings for her.
Pairings: Brad Davis x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: Jealous Peter being an idiot and everyone agrees. Slight angst, fluff.
Note: I had a lot of fun writing this! I really hope you like this, and it’s not cheesy, I’m all in for this kind of stuff lol.
Peter plopped on the cafeteria seat next to Ned, resting his head in one of his hands while the other aggressively stabbed the pizza in his plate with a fork.
"Dude, what did that pizza even do to you?" Ned asked frowning, worried by his best friend's sudden weird behavior.
"The pizza is not what's bothering me" Peter mumbled through gritted teeth, lifting his eyes to look at you again, gripping the fork tighter when he saw who you were with.
Ned followed his friend's eyes, and realization hit his face when his eyes landed on you. He just sighed and put his hand on Peter's shoulder, to somehow give him support over the image playing in front of them.
You made your way through the cafeteria holding Brad's hand, oblivious to your friends looking at you on the other side. A little smile adorned your face, that soon turned into a full laugh when he whispered something on your ear.
Peter inhaled sharply when he saw you, his girl, well not exactly, his girl that isn't his but is his ... the girl he liked ... anyway, when he saw you laugh with someone that wasn't him.
Especially when that someone was Brad Davis.
He was so caught up in his jealousy that he didn't notice he was bending the metal fork, until it finally snapped in half, cutting through his hand.
"Fuck" Peter cursed, making Ned jump from the snapping sound.
"Holy shit Peter" Ned exclaimed, hurriedly hiding the fork from the curious looks so no one noticed his friend with super strength had broke it.
Peter lifted his eyes again from the little distraction, and noticed you were walking towards their table with your tray of food, Brad sitting next to his friends now. He quickly wiped the little scratch of blood in his hand, not really paying attention to it.
"Hello boys" You playfully greeted reaching the table, a big smile on your face as you sat across from them.
"Hi Y/n" Ned happily replied, lightly nudging Peter's leg when he didn't say anything.
Your smile slowly being replaced by a frown, when you noticed Peter just shoved the pizza in his mouth, avoiding your gaze.
"So what's up?" You awkwardly asked, focusing your curious eyes on Ned, waiting for him to tell you what was going on with Peter.
"Uh ... not much" Ned nervously answered, not wanting to give his friend away. "So, how did your date go with Brad?" He asked to take the attention away from Peter, but he mentally slapped himself after realizing that's probably the last thing he wants to hear right now.
"It was amazing" You smiled back again, ignoring the way Peter coughed and began gulping his orange juice. "He brought me flowers and opened the doors for me, he was so nice and romantic"
You rested your head on your hand, sighing because even though your date with Brad was amazing, it wasn't perfect.
Because you wanted the guy in front of you.
Talking about him, the angry boy couldn't help but breathe heavily before finally speaking to you.
"You just had your first date and you're already holding hands" He teased in a mocking tone making you frown for the second time, because it wasn't a playful mocking tone, it was a mean mocking tone.
And your best friend wasn't like that.
"Like I said he was really nice and romantic, holding hands is a sweet gesture he likes and I really enjoy it too" You defended yourself, and Peter could only chuckle.
"I'm pretty sure that's just a facade, I mean we're talking about Brad. He makes everyone think he's this amazing guy since we came from the blip just because he grew up all muscly Y/n, I'm sure he just wants to have fun with some girls like you" Peter rolled his eyes, not really controlling the words he said.
Ned was scared to be honest, looking between you two. Because he knew when Peter was angry he didn't really control what he said, and you had to suffer those consequences, staring at Peter in disbelief with your mouth in agape.
"So you're saying I'm just some toy for him?" You asked, ignoring the way your heart ached from Peter thinking so low of you to be considered someone's toy.
"What I'm saying is you don't really know the guy, you shouldn't be that excited about him because he'll just end up leaving you" He shrugged his shoulders not taking back his previous statement, still clouded by the jealousy.
"Seriously why do you have to be an asshole, Parker" You painfully said fighting the tears, before getting up from the table and leaving your food behind as you left the cafeteria.
You only ever used his last name when you were truly mad at him, and that's when he finally realized he had gone too far with his words.
"For being one of the most intelligent people in this school, you truly are an idiot sometimes Peter" Ned shook his head in disapproval.
Peter just sighed and lowered his head to put it against the table, after he noticed Brad had gone running right behind you.
"Fuck Ned, what am I going to do" He whined, his voice muffled by the metal table under his mouth.
"Just tell her you love her, none of this would've happened if you just told her a long time ago you know" Ned scolded his dumbass friend, tired of always seeing him – and you of course – suffer because he couldn't confess his feelings for you.
"But she's my best friend, what if I lose her" Peter lifted his head ever so slightly, looking at his friend with begging eyes.
"You're gonna end up losing her anyways if you keep acting like this" Ned sighed and Peter just hit his head against the cold metal once again, knowing it was true.
You hurriedly walked through the halls of Midtown High, trying to get away from people's weird stares as you fought the tears falling on your face.
Why did Peter have to be such an idiot?
You didn't understand why he was being so hostile towards you dating Brad, after all he was the reason why you you tried to date other people. Because you were so stupidly in love with him but you couldn't bring yourself to say something, not wanting to ruin your relationship as best friends.
That was all you were, so he had no reason to ruin your attempts of trying to forget him with someone else.
You were pulled out of your thoughts when Brad finally reached you, taking your hand and bringing you into an empty classroom when he noticed your tears.
"Are you okay Y/n? what happened back there?" He worriedly asked, gently taking your hands in his, his brows furrowing together.
You stared at him in silence, admiring the way his concerned eyes looked at you, but also immediately feeling bad for using him to forget Peter. Because he was wrong, Brad was one of the most caring people you've met and he didn't deserve to be used like that, but you couldn't help yourself from lunging forward to wrap him into a hug.
"I'm okay, I just had a little fight with Peter" You mumbled against his chest.
Although when you thought about it, it wasn't really a fight, Peter was just being mean for no reason.
"I'm sorry, I know how much he means to you" Brad whispered understandingly, trying to hide the jealousy in his voice.
Brad would lie to himself if he said he didn't notice the way you looked at Parker, and the way he looked back at you. However this didn't stop him from trying to date his high school crush, ignoring the way your heart belonged to someone else.
Because Parker was a fucking idiot for not making a move on you. Hell, the whole school thought he was, the only one unaware of it was Peter himself.
"It's alright, I'll be fine" You sighed, separating from him just a little to kiss his cheek. "Thanks for coming for me"
"You're welcome beautiful" He shyly replied, blushing. "What do you say we watch some movies tonight? That'll make you feel better" He innocently offered, lifting his brow waiting for your answer.
"Sure, my parents work until late so we can have my place just for us" You replied smiling, suddenly forgetting about Peter.
"So no parents in your house? If I didn't know you I would think you're trying to seduce me" He teased shaking his head in disapproval as you playfully smacked his arm.
"You know what I mean Brad, after school is good?" You asked involuntarily biting your lip, making him feel some type of way.
"I was just kidding beautiful, after school is perfect" He winked agreeing, this time making you blush at the pet name.
The day went by rather quickly for you, yet for Peter it was the exact opposite. Not only he had to put up with you not talking to him the rest of the day, he also had to look at you sit next to Brad in all of your classes.
And being his enhanced and curious self he couldn't help but eavesdrop in your conversations, even though he knew it was wrong to invade your privacy like that. His anger only increased when he heard you talking about what movies you two would watch together after school, and he soon found himself snapping a pencil in half this time.
"Dude you seriously need to chill" Ned's desperate voice whispered to him, once again hiding the poor broken pencil away from any curious stares.
Peter could only sigh, trying to focus on anything but you trying to contain your laugh from some stupid joke Brad told you.
The school day was finally over and Peter couldn't wait to get out of that place, hurriedly leaving as soon as the bell rang to suit up as spiderman, trying to distract himself from the fact that Brad and you would be at your place alone.
Which brings us to you and Brad getting comfortable in your living room, he was picking the first movie while you went to the kitchen to make some popcorn.
"Do you want caramel or normal popcorn?" You yelled turning around from the cabinets, coming to a halt when your face collided with his chest. "I'm sorry, I thought you were in the living room" You quickly apologized, feeling nervous from the closeness of your bodies.
"It's okay, it's my fault for coming here" He said, not budging from his position.
You both stood speechless in that position for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes until you found yourself standing on your tiptoes as he slowly leaned his head down, finally closing your eyes when he collided his lips with yours.  
Your mouths moved in synch as you kept your hands on his firm chest, while he lifted his to gently cup your cheeks. You didn't know how but you quickly found your mind wandering somewhere else, thinking about a totally different person from the one you were kissing right now.
Peter Benjamin Parker.
You couldn't help yourself from imagining him being the one kissing your lips, the one gently caressing your cheek with his thumb as his tongue danced with yours. You imagined him grabbing your waist to bring you closer into the kiss instead of the innocent boy who was doing an amazing job kissing the girl he had a crush on, oblivious to her thoughts.
You unconsciously lifted your hands behind his head to caress what you expected to be a curly mop of hair, crashing into reality when you felt short straight hair. You instantly brought your hands to stop Brad and separate from him, his confused eyes quickly meeting your apologetic ones.
"I'm so sorry" You immediately blurted out, embarrassed from imagining your best friend kissing you instead of the concerned boy in front of you.
Especially when that friend had been an idiot to your this morning.
"No no I'm sorry, I shouldn't have kisse–" The boy desperately tried to apologize taking a few steps back, but you cut him before he could go on.
"No Brad, I'm sorry" You sighed lowering your  eyes to the floor, not being able to look him in the eyes after what you did. "I'm so sorry because I wasn't thinking clearly, I was just thinking about–"
"Parker?" He asked and you nodded embarrassingly. "It's okay, I knew I shouldn't have tried to make a move on you"
You shot your eyes back at him when you heard no hint of anger from him, if anything it sounded like he expected something like this to happen.
"What?" You asked confused, and he just chuckled.
"They were serious when they said you and Parker were so oblivious" He said, only making your confusion grow.
"They who?"
"Everyone in school, we all know you guys like each other" He explained in an obvious tone, as if it wasn't the craziest thing you've ever heard in your life.
Peter didn't like you ... did he?
"He doesn't like me" You mumbled trying to hide the sadness in your voice. "A-and it doesn't matter because I don't like him" You stuttered through your lie.
"Oh come on Y/n, I've seen the way you look at him, that's mad love you feel there" He admitted exposing you, you couldn't help but blush.
"I'm sorry for thinking about him when I was kissing you" You sighed, leaning on the kitchen cabinet behind you, Brad only shook his head.
"Like I said it's okay. I mean I knew you liked him, I just couldn't help myself from asking you out because you're so smart and beautiful and overall amazing" He nervously rambled as you stared at him in disbelief. "Parker really is an idiot for not taking his chance with someone like you" Brad finished, now he was the one blushing.
You couldn't help yourself from engulfing him into a hug for the second time of the day, his confused self took a second to accept it and hug you back.
"I'm sorry" You apologized once again. "You truly deserve someone good Brad, I'm sorry that someone can't be me"
"It's okay" He replied smiling, he couldn't keep any remorse towards you.
You both finally separated from the hug, and he stood awkwardly for a second before speaking again.
"I uh ... I think this is when I head out with what's left of my dignity" He said in a serious tone, shifting his weight between his feet.
"I'm sorr–"
"Stop apologizing, I was just kidding" He laughed, and you just shook your head laughing too. "Alright I'mma head out" He made a peace sign before disappearing from the kitchen.
You let out a deep sigh when you heard the front door shut, your mind sill processing what just happened.
Brad said everyone in the school knows we like each other. But Peter had never showed a sign of him romantically wanting you, besides the usual hugs and cheek kisses you shared, but that's what best friends do.
Your feet started moving unconsciously towards the door, quickly grabbing your keys on the way as you headed out, knowing the only way of clarifying things was to confront Peter about it. That's how you found yourself hurriedly walking towards your spider friend's apartment.
Talking about spiders, Peter could not shake his head from thinking about you and whatever you were doing with Brad, causing him to harshly crash multiple times against walls when he was swinging through the city. Knowing it was dangerous and pretty much pointless to patrol in that state, he decided it was best to go home and ask May advise about it. It was unusual for him to get back from his patrol before the sun came down, but what was even more unusual was finding you sitting on his bed when he crawled through his bedroom's window.
Well not exactly, there were many times where Peter found you in his room waiting from him given the massive trust you had on each other, it was just weird having you there after he had acted so wrong with you.
"H-hey" You nervously greeted when he landed softly in the room, taking off his mask revealing his confused expression.
"Hi Y/n, uh ... what are you doing here?" The boy asked, fiddling his mask on his hands.
He knew he had to apologize and he was going to, when he remembered the reason why he had fought with you in the first place.
You were dating Brad Davis.
So the anger and jealousy got the best out of him again, totally forgetting his apologize as the words unconsciously rolled out his tongue.
"Weren't you supposed to netflix and chill with Brad or whatever?" He sneered, making you furrow your brows at his hostility towards you again.
There was that mocking tone again.
"What? we weren't going to do that, besides we called it quits anyways" You confessed crossing your arms, his chuckle making you want to slap him.
"You called it quits or he dumped you? I told you it would happen, you didn't listen" He clicked his tongue shaking his head, and you really had to keep yourself from yelling at him.
"What are you talking about? He has treated me better than you have done all day" You spat through gritted teeth.
"That's bullshit Y/n, just tell me what he did to you because as far as I knew you guys were supposed to be fucking right now" He snarled, pulling the last string of your patience.
"Seriously what the fuck is your problem Parker" You yelled this time in exasperation, truly tired of Peter's bullshit.
That seemed to be some kind of code word that woke Peter up every time he messed up. He was suddenly brought back to his senses, well not exactly all of them, as he just determinedly shot a web to you and pulled it so your bodies crashed together, throwing his mask to the floor to cup your face and bring you into a kiss.
A desperate kiss that took you a second to correspond and melt into Peter's lips, instantly forgetting about the arguments you had. Your hands traveled al the way to his head, this time actually caressing the soft messy curls you expected. Peter moaned into the kiss when you gently tucked a strand of his hair, taking his hands from your cheeks to grab you by the waist, somehow bringing you closer to him.
Your lips seemed to fit perfectly with his soft ones, dancing in a beautiful choreography that you never wanted to end, until your lungs gave up and you had to separate to catch your breath. You rested your foreheads together, eyes still closed, breathlessly enjoying the closeness to each other.
You thought for a moment how this kiss wasn't at all the way you imagined it when you kissed Brad, this was so much better. You couldn't help the smile that crept on your lips, finally opening your eyes to look at Peter's.
"I'm sorry" He blurted out. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole with you, it's just that ... I just really really like you and I couldn't control myself over you dating Brad. I got so–"
"Jealous?" You playfully interrupted him, loving the way his cheeks blushed. "It's okay, I really really like you too Peter" You confessed.
You think you've never seen Peter's eye shine so much before, his mouth slightly parted open when a lovesick smile appeared on his face.
"Y-you do? well you kissed me back so that means you do ... oh my god! well that's ... that's great I mea–"
You stopped his rambling by pulling him closer to meet his lips again, you lightly bit his bottom lip asking for entrance, slipping your tongue in when he softly moaned. This time the kiss was a little more heated up, as you both desperately devoured each other trying to express the love you felt, considering that love had been in the shadows for too long.
"Y/n are you staying for dinn– oh" May's voice bursted through the door, making you both instantly separate and stand awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
"May we were just–"
"Fucking finally Peter!" The woman happily exclaimed throwing her hands in the air, covering her mouth when the words just slipped out. "I'm sorry kids I'll uhm ... I'll give you some space" She apologized, before lifting her brows suggestively at Peter and giving him a thumbs up, finally closing the door.
You didn't even need Peter's enhanced hearing to hear May's squeal of happiness outside the room, and you couldn't help but laugh at her teenage-like behavior.
"Seems like someone was rooting for us" You mocked, Peter only sighed embarrassed and buried his blushed face on the crook of your neck.
"Please forget about that" He whined, taking your hands in his and giving them a gentle squeeze.
"Peter, we haven't even had our first date and you're already holding my hand" You said clicking your tongue and shaking your head, imitating his actions and words from before.
Peter immediately lifted his head to look at you, and you laughed at his pouted expression, letting his hands go to cup his red cheeks.
"I'm just kidding, Parker" You teased his last name, knowing fully well you only used when he did something wrong.
Except this time he didn't do anything wrong, if anything it was the exact opposite, and for the first time Peter didn't feel intimidated by his last name rolling out of your lips.
5K notes · View notes
rhapsodyparker · a year ago
pour it out || t.h.
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pairing: tom x actress!reader
summary: a cheeky game of ‘pour it out’ with jimmy fallon makes you spill some beans
word count: 5k
warnings: swearing, a shit ton of dialogue & cheekiness?
a/n: hehe it’s been some time... but i simply got the idea thanks to fallon’s relatively new game! it’s clever and funny and i just love it so much, so i obviously had to write something about it. hope you enjoy lovelies x
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“We’re rolling in just about three minutes!” the cameraman announced.
Your nerves started kicking in the second that sentence had ended. It was your first time promoting a movie you starred in... on your own. Moreover, on a talk show as well known as Jimmy Fallon. 
Ever since your manager pitched you the idea, you couldn’t help but agree to it, knowing it would also be good advertisement for the movie considering the amount of views the uploaded videos on YouTube received and all the people watching the show from home. In hindsight, though, it was definitely nerve-wracking, and you had to be aware of everything that escaped your mouth because of the endless quantity of rumors that could be spread just by a misinterpreted word.
It was also your first leading role in a movie, which that alone was stressful enough for you to freak out and lose your sanity. This had always been your dream, and seeing it become a reality in front of your own two eyeballs felt ballistic to you. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet, but you knew it would when the movie would hit theaters worldwide. However, you knew better: you couldn’t let nervousness get the best of you, especially on a night so special to you like this one. 
Although this was your first movie where you’d been lucky enough to be assigned the leading role, you’d also been cast as Peter Parker’s love interest in the new Spider-Man Marvel reboot, also known as MJ, which stood for Michelle Jones. That role was actually the one that had opened so many doors for you in the industry, and you were always going to be thankful for it, especially Jon Watts, the director, who had cast you in it back in 2016 for Spider-Man: Homecoming. 
That was when you’d met Tom. Tom as in Tom Holland. The only person in the world who could perfectly portray the iconic character that is Peter Parker. His dedication to getting the part and committing to the craft of the physicality that the role required was really inspiring. He was incredibly professional and ready to outwork everyone else on set all the way through. Yes, he did admit multiple times in interviews how wearing the Spider-Man suit was fairly uncomfortable, but he always added that the joy and the thrill of embodying such a character outweighed every discomfort, describing it as the dream of a lifetime. 
Not only was he extremely devoted to it, but you were also pleasantly surprised to discover that he was also an amazing and down-to-earth person, always humbled and grateful to have been given such an opportunity. You both spent so much time together on set and bonded in no time: you’d constantly pull pranks on each other, sometimes teaming up together to surprise the other cast members, and you’d goof around all the time, driving Jon crazy. You really couldn’t have asked for a better co-star by your side on such a journey. 
Both you and Tom had gotten so close during filming that you started hanging out even after Jon had wrapped up the movie. You just enjoyed each other’s company so much, which was really rare in the industry because actors often acted like best friends just for the sake of the film’s promotion, but this wasn’t the case. Jon even risked to say that the movies had been so successful not only because Spider-Man was almost everyone’s favorite superhero, but also thanks to the wonderful relationship Tom and you had developed over the years, because the chemistry between the two of you was undeniably palpable on screen.
Speaking of hanging out together, while you fidgeted with your fingers backstage and picked on your cuticles, nervous to face the upcoming interview, Tom was there with you, supporting you and being there for his friend no matter what. It was really genuine and thoughtful because you hadn’t asked him to accompany you; he’d suggested it himself, which you were super thankful for because you’d have no idea in what state you’d be in if it weren’t for him keeping you with your feet on the ground.
However... being such close friends with someone as beloved as Tom had both its pros and its cons, one of them being the myriad of dating rumors. On one hand, you couldn’t blame the media for assuming anything, but on the other, it was also none of their business considering it was your private life.
Despite that, through all the years of filming with Tom and sharing so many memorable moments with him, you’d ended up catching some sort of... feelings for him. You’d tried to ignore and push them away, but you slowly realized it was easier said than done because spending almost everyday with him didn’t bring any sort of benefit. Even so, you figured professionalism and seriousness were key points in blockbusters such as the Spider-Man movies, and reckoned you’d have to keep your feelings aside in order to make the franchise work.
You had no idea if Tom reciprocated you. He was flirty, kind and funny around you all the time - he even called you pet names - but you’d always thought it was his own way of being friendly. And you mirrored Tom, because you were just that comfortable with him.
“You’re gonna be great, love,” Tom soothed while gently rubbing his palms on your shoulders, looking at you dead in the eyes. “Just be yourself. Remember: turn nerves into excitement.”
“Easy for you to say! You’re Spider-Man. Everyone loves you.” 
“Yeah, but they all love you, too. The crowd wouldn’t be here cheering otherwise.” 
You sighed at his observation. “I suppose you’re right, yeah. I just don’t want to mess anything up. What if I say something wrong?”
“Well, considering it’s you, you probably will,” Tom joked.
A shocked expression invaded your face and you gently smacked him on his arm with the back of your hand. “Gee. Thanks, Peter!”
“No problem, MJ.”
“Okay, we’re rolling!” the cameraman exclaimed.
Tom looked at you and wrapped his strong arms around you for a quick hug, rubbing your back soothingly and leaving a gentle peck on your cheek. “Okay, it’s your turn now. Good luck. Smash it out there.”
You nodded at him and turned around, a long exhale leaving your lips as none other than the host, Jimmy Fallon, introduced you as his next guest from behind his desk, facing the main camera.
“Good evening, people, and welcome back to The Tonight Show! Now, the following, and unfortunately, last guest of the night is somebody very special. She’s starred in one of the best selling movies of the year, known as Spider-Man: Far From Home, and is part of the new feature coming this Christmas starring Emma Watson, Laura Dern and Meryl Streep, Little Women! Everyone, please welcome (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”
As soon as you made your way on stage, he kindly stood up and came over to you in order to properly welcome you to the show, the crowd cheering you on and music playing in the background by Jimmy’s band. He approached you and mirrored your wide smile, hugging you tightly and inviting you to sit on the couch.
You waved at the sea of people clapping and screaming, feeling absolutely overwhelmed and starstruck by all the love and appreciation you were receiving. Everything still had to quite sink in. On the Spider-Man press tours and red carpets it was fairly different because you were in good company of your fellow co-stars and you weren’t the main character, meaning that the media attention was focused on somebody else, while now... you were at the center of it.
You sat on the couch and smoothed out what you were wearing in order not to scrunch it up, which was a navy blue pantsuit paired with a white shirt underneath and matching heels. The cheers gradually decreased as Jimmy began making small conversation with you; however, upon getting comfortable in your seat, a young feminine voice yelled, “I love your outfit, (Y/N)! You look stunning!”
The comment caught your attention and you turned towards the girl. “Aw, thank you so much, darling! You look beautiful, too!”
“Woah! See?” Jimmy exclaimed. “You haven’t even said anything yet and people already love you.”
“I guess that’s just the effect I have.” You chuckled and everyone followed you.
“Okay, so, (Y/N),” he started, “this has been a huge year for you. How are you feeling right now? I mean, you starred in a couple movies before Spider-Man: Homecoming back in 2017, so what I’m trying to ask is, does it all still feel kind of new to you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say new, but yes in some way, because I feel like I’ll never get used to all the attention I’ve been receiving lately. It’s a dream come true and I’m so glad to be doing something I love for a living. Not many people are that lucky,” you answered honestly. 
“What has been the most challenging part of it all?”
You sighed, thinking about the answer for a second. “I’ll probably have to say everything that notoriety entails. Being followed by paparazzi, everybody wanting to know the details of my private life, who I’m dating and who I’m not dating... It’s been tough under that perspective, but apart from that, I’m really grateful for everything, because every circumstance has its pros and cons. The joy of being given this wonderful opportunity simply outweighs all the negative points.”
Everyone started clapping at your words, praising you for your calmness and maturity towards the sensitive topic. “That’s very wise of you, (Y/N). One of your co-stars has said quite the same thing regarding this.”
“Oh, you mean Tom?” 
The second his name left your mouth, the entire crowd cheered so loudly you had to cover your ears. You smiled at just how many people adored him. It made you feel very warm inside because he deserved this and way more. You turned your head towards where Tom was standing backstage - where nobody could see him - with his arms crossed over his chest and laughed with him at the reaction the mention of his name had provoked. 
“He’s so loved, isn’t he? But yeah, we’ve definitely helped each other out with the whole rising fame aspect of the situation. We’re quite similar under that point of view because we’re going through the same things, and it’s always, y’know, therapeutic and comforting to have someone by your side who you can relate with. We’re just very supportive of one another and I’m super thankful to share this incredible journey with him.”
Once again, you subtly turned around towards Tom and there he was, grinning like a child and with his hands placed on his chest, forming a heart shape with his slim fingers and mimicking an exaggerated heartbeat. You softly giggled at his reaction, but realized that you should keep your focus on Jimmy instead of fooling around with Tom, although you were extremely tempted.
Jimmy then started asking about Little Women, your upcoming movie, one of the questions being how it was to work with movie stars such as Laura Dern and the multiple Oscar-winning actress Meryl Streep.
“It was quite intimidating, y’know? I’d never worked with such icons in the industry, and to be able to call them my co-stars in this project or even peers shocks me constantly. They really brought out the best in me during filming and kept me under their wing. But Emma has been incredible, too. She grew up under the spotlight and gave me a few pieces of golden advice to live by which I will treasure forever.” 
“What was your first reaction when you met them?” Jimmy asked. “Tell us about that! You must’ve been under so much pressure, right?”
“Not gonna lie, I almost fainted when I first met Meryl. No joke,” you answered, and everyone cracked up laughing, including Tom from backstage. “Honestly, who wouldn’t? It’s Meryl! But anyways, the director, Greta, had told me that she was going to come on set to record her first scenes. I’d already met everybody else, so I was kind of growing into it, but meeting Meryl was a whole other experience...”
“Can you share it with us?” Jimmy chuckled.
“Well... it’s rather embarrassing. I probably didn’t give her the best first impression,” you joked. “Anyways, I was shooting a scene where I was having a conversation with Emma, and we were both supposed to drink tea with some milk in it. My character was listening very intently to what hers was saying, and as I brought the teacup to my lips to take a long sip, my eyes diverted somewhere behind the camera where I could sense some movement and I noticed Meryl standing there watching us acting, and I was so surprised by seeing her there that I choked on the tea, which then came out of my nose...”
Jimmy started laughing uncontrollably, everyone - including you - following him as he banged his fists on the desk. “You were right. That was definitely not a good first impression!”
“Oh, I know! I wanted to bury myself alive after that! My face was as red as a tomato! But she laughed it off afterwards, so it’s okay,” you said giggling.
Jimmy got a tissue from under the desk and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes to recompose himself from the previous cackle. “Woah, that was a good story,” he said, “but we’ll be back with (Y/N) right after the commercial break! Stay tuned!”
The cameraman stopped recording and make-up artists immediately ran up to the both of you to fix your make-up, especially Jimmy’s since it was completely smudged from all the laughing he’d done. 
“Okay, so (Y/N),” he said, “after the break we’re going to be playing a game called ‘Pour It Out’. We both have three shots ready for us to drink, and under each one there’s a personal question that the writers have written for each of us. You have to read it in your head and say the answer out loud. After that, you can choose whether you want to tell us the question or not. However, you have to reveal at least one during the course of the game, and if you do, you don’t have to take the shot. What do you think?”
“Oh, my God, yes! I love games, I’m really excited for this one!” you exclaimed, the inner child in you emerging from the abyss. “Wait, how personal are the questions, though?”
“They can be anything. You’re just gonna have to wait and see,” Jimmy said cheekily.
You groaned playfully. “Okay, fine. I’ll go with the flow. This is totally out of my comfort zone.”
“You’re not the only one.”
Jimmy guided you to the raised table, the three drinks already set on top of it for you to gulp, each one with a coaster placed beneath them. They looked incredible and you knew they were going to taste delicious. The decorations on the shot glasses made them even more appetizing and inviting, your mouth already watering.
The cameramen started rolling again and Jimmy resumed the show, welcoming everyone back and beginning to describe the game to the audience. By the end of the explanation, multiple ‘ooh’s and whistles erupted from the crowd, creating the right atmosphere and making you even more excited.
“So, tonight America’s going to get all the answers, just not all the questions!” Jimmy joked, a couple laughs coming from the studio. “Are you ready, (Y/N)?”
“Born ready, baby,” you responded as you rubbed your hands together.
“You’re the guest, so you go first.”
The first shot was yellow. It had small banana decorations on it and the liquid contained a couple bubbles, so you reckoned it’d be a fizzy type of drink. You moved the shot to the side and picked up the round coaster, which had the name of the shot written in beautiful cursive on the upper half of it.
“The shot is called Banana Wintour,” you began, “and the question is... oh, no, wait. I’m not supposed to read it.” You mentally face-palmed yourself.
“Well, unless you want to tell us already... We’re not opposed to that, y’know?” Jimmy teased, earning giggles from everybody, including you.
The question read: do you ever Google yourself? You figured you could answer that because it wasn’t necessarily too personal to be embarrassed about.
"Not anymore.” You paused, staring right into Jimmy’s brown irises and wanting to create the tension. His immediate reaction was a mixture of playful curiousness and perplexity. 
“Do you feel like you can share that with the rest of us?”
“Yeah, I’m just playing with you. I love exaggerating. I’m an actress. It’s what I do,” you joked, a couple chuckles coming from the audience. “The question is if I ever Google myself. To be honest, I used to when I first started out acting because I was very insecure about the public image that I portrayed and curious to know how people perceived me as a person. But as I’ve grown and matured these past couple of years, I realized that there’s no need to because I’m all about positivity and accepting yourself for who you truly are. If you’re too busy constantly worrying about other people’s judgement, you don’t really get to embody the best version of yourself.”
A loud applause erupted from the audience, once again moved and affected by your insightful choice of words, Jimmy joining in shortly after. You were humbled because you knew your fan base majorly consisted of young teenage girls, and setting an example for them really set a tone of responsibility in your life.
“I mean, you might as well do whatever you want because, either way, people are going to talk shit about you.”
“Couldn’t have said it better,” Fallon agreed. “Okay, I guess it’s my turn now.” He picked up the coaster from under the same yellow drink and smirked as soon as he scanned the question. He looked up at you with a mischievous grin plastered across his lips. “Six-thousand dollars, and I’m sorry, but I’m definitely not telling you what the question is.” 
You were beyond shocked and everyone gasped at his response. He grasped the shot glass and swallowed it in a quarter of a second, leaving everybody speechless. “Wow, that was really sweet. Loved it.”
“I want to know what that question was so bad!” you exclaimed while gripping onto the edge of the table, your palms twitching from how tempted you were to steal the coaster from him.
“You’ll never know.”
“Ugh fine,” you groaned. You proceeded with removing the next drink from the round object, admiring the decorations set around it. The shot was white and foamy, and the glass was adorned with two pieces of red lacy fabric that formed a bra and a pair of underwear, signaling it was miniature lingerie. You grabbed the coaster. “Hm, this one’s sexy. The drink is called Victoria’s Other Secret.” 
Just below was the question written down, and the ornament around the shot perfectly resembled the topic because it asked: who takes the gold medal for your best on screen kiss? 
You heart dropped a bit, and you were sure your facial expression clearly conveyed it. The answer was obvious to you. To be honest, you hadn’t had too many, but out of the few, there was definitely a number one winner, and who could it be other than...
“Tom Holland,” you replied confidently, an inevitable chuckle escaping your lips.
The sounds following your response were various: some people squealed, a couple mysterious ‘ooh’s invaded the air and others gasped. Jimmy personally widened his eyes at your answer, his eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. You didn’t even give him the time to explicitly wonder anything about the question that you gulped the drink in no time, the burning alcohol running down your throat as your eyes squinted at the taste. The entire studio surprisingly cheered and clapped at your action, and you loved the feeling of giving everybody the benefit of the doubt.
“Woah! And she took the shot immediately! Oh, my God!” Jimmy yelled, his hands covering his mouth in shock.
“Make of it what you want, Fallon, but I’m sorry, I cannot reveal that question!” you laughed, holding your hands up in defense. “It can be anything. But gotta say, the drink was pretty tasty. Congrats to who made these.”
“Yeah, yeah, right. Moving on!” he said as he picked up his second question, his eyes rapidly scanning through it. Once again, he softly smirked and looked up, careful with his next choice of words. “One time with Winona Ryder, but I feel like I can reveal this one, because I know that answer stand alone might create some trouble. It says: have you ever lied to the paparazzi?”
Obviously, everyone wanted to know what the circumstance was, so Jimmy went on saying how some time ago he was in the car with the actress, who was supposed to drop him off at a meeting. She noticed a bunch of paparazzi out of the building and launched him the clever idea of faking an argument with him. Jimmy agreed to it, figuring it would be amusing for the both of them, and as he got out of the vehicle, he angrily yelled at her something and slammed the car door, gaining everyone’s attention.
“Wow! Really?”
“Yes! (Y/N), you have no idea. It was all over the press the next day! Jimmy Fallon and Winona Ryder get into a giant fight! God, it was hilarious,” he commented, the audience falling into a pit of laughter. 
You both took a step to your side, the last shot placed in front of you. It was a smooth blue one with a metallic stick placed on the edge of the glass that speared a blackberry. It looked delicious.
“Okay, so this is the final round. For this one, we’re going to answer the same question. If we choose not to reveal what it is, we both have to take a shot.”
“Lets do this.”
Jimmy flipped the coaster one last time, you following soon after with yours, and announced the name of the drink, which was Adios, Mofos. You chuckled at the title and read the final question, which asked: name two celebrities that you want to set up with each other. You gazed at each other grinning like children. 
“You go first, you’re the guest.”
“Okay, thanks. Uhm... I’ll have to go with Chris Evans and Brie Larson,” you replied, gently tapping your fingers on the table and arching your brows mysteriously at the audience.
“Damn, I really like that one, actually. I’ll say...” he paused for a couple seconds, building the right amount of tension in the studio and giving you a knowing smile right before answering. He shook his head a couple times, debating whether he should respond or not, but he went for it in the end. “Ugh, I’ll just go for it. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Tom Holland.”
Your mouth formed an oval shape, jokingly shocked that those two names had just left his lips, and the crowd went ballistic, laughing like crazy and curious to know what the question was. Jimmy pointed at you, cracking up at your facial expression as tears formed along his waterline. 
“Shall we just reveal it?” he asked, still giggling at your reaction.
“Fine. It’d be weird if you didn’t anyways, so...”
Jimmy told everyone the question and the crowd immediately started cheering out loud, agreeing with both your replies, but with his in particular. You reckoned it was quite funny and laughed along with the entire studio, realizing you couldn’t really blame him for his answer. 
He simply shrugged his shoulders and his eyes darted towards the main camera. “So, that’s it for tonight! Little Women will be out in theaters on Christmas day! Don’t forget to check it out and we’ll see you again tomorrow night! Hope you have a nice evening and give it up once more for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”
“Thank you so much for having me! It’s been an absolute pleasure!” you said as Jimmy came over to you, saluting you with a handshake and two kisses on the cheek.
The cameraman stopped rolling and you headed backstage, Tom ready to embrace you right then and there in a tight hug. He was grinning from ear to ear and wrapped his toned arms around your torso while you placed yours around his neck.
“See? It wasn’t that bad! You were great out there. I told you you had nothing to worry about. Everybody loved you,” he said. “Plus, that game looked really fun.”
“Ugh, God, that last one was so embarrassing!” you exclaimed, covering your face with your hands and resting your head on Tom’s chest. “Did you see my face?”
“I did, yeah. It was all red, but I found it adorable. Especially that second question...” 
You raised your head and gazed into Tom’s gorgeous hazel eyes, noticing a soft smirk spread across his thin lips. He was giving you that knowing look, one you knew you couldn’t escape in a million years, a couple wrinkles circling his eyes. 
“‘Might as well tell me what the question was, (Y/N), because you know I’ll pepper you for the rest of the night if you don’t, and I won’t regret it a tiny bit,” he teased. 
You groaned at his cockiness and rolled your eyes. “Ugh, you’re such a little bastard.”
“Oh, I know that. C’mon, love, just spill the beans already.”
Tom’s irises bored into yours, genuinely intrigued by the obscurity of everything. But how could you blame him for being curious? You would’ve acted the same if the circumstance had been reversed. You knew he wasn’t the type to let things go because of his competitiveness, so you figured it would’ve been best to be straightforward with him.
“Ugh, I know I’m gonna regret this as soon as I say it, but the question was...” 
You sighed heavily, looking up at him and wondering up until the last second whether you should reveal it to him or not. Tom’s body language and the way his eyes stood still made it clear to you how curiosity was eating him alive. You realized you’d placed yourself in the situation, and you had no idea how to get out of it, so you let the words spill.
“The question was who was my best on screen kiss, Tom.”
His eyes widened at your blunt response, taking your answer in and smiling quite a bit. “Really? I’m your best on screen kiss?”
“Yes, Tom,” you restated, chuckling at his incredulous reaction. “Is that so hard to believe? Plus, to be completely honest with you, it’s not strictly connected to the kiss itself. It’s about the whole context. I mean, look at yourself, you’ve got the whole package! You’re so sweet, funny, caring, giving, handsome, smart, talent-”
Tom’s lips collided with your own in a matter of a second, interrupting you in the middle of the sentence. You were taken off guard by his sudden action, but all you could think about was the way the moment felt so... right. His hands held onto your waist, pulling you closer to him once he could feel you relax and get comfortable in his warm embrace. You carefully placed your hands on his arms, making your way upwards towards his luscious brown curls, and slowly ran your fingers through them. As you’d predicted during the course of being his friend, they were super soft and smooth, and you couldn’t help but smile throughout the kiss at the situation, having dreamt of it myriads of times. 
At that point, Tom gently pulled away and you pouted internally, wishing the moment could last forever, savoring the remaining taste of his lips on yours. His eyes kept closed when you two parted and he slowly opened them, a cute smirk following soon after. 
“I like you, too, (Y/N). I wasn’t expecting you to, y’know?” Tom said. “I thought it was a one-way thing, that you only thought of me as a friend after all these years.”
“Well, that’s what I thought, too, Tom,” you answered sincerely. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I’m sure it’s for the same reason you didn’t. I just didn’t want to butcher what we had and put it all at risk. I care too much about you to lose you for something that could’ve ruined everything between us.”
Those last few words warmed your heart. He was right. It was the same reason, and you couldn’t blame him for keeping everything a secret, considering you’d done the exact same. The only difference was that you finally decided to somewhat voice out your feelings, although you didn’t want to, because a certain someone forced you to.
“So...” you paused briefly and indicated the space between the both of you. “What does this mean now?”
“Whatever you want it to mean, love,” Tom smirked jokingly. 
“Oh, you...” you whispered as you rolled your eyes at his cheekiness. You both chuckled at his joke but recomposed yourselves soon after, realizing you wouldn’t get anywhere with the conversation if you continued with your constant banter. “Seriously, though... Do we... y’know, maybe want to try this out?”
He exhaled, a rush of nervousness invading his face as he slipped his hands in his front pockets. “I-I think we should. What do you think?”
“I think we should, too,” you replied, a shy smile spreading across your lips.
Tom returned the soft smile, a couple wrinkles circling his eyes. “So... how about we go bowling sometime? Maybe dinner first... Then we could also go to the movies if you want?”
“That sounds like a plan, Holland.”
“Correction: date. It sounds like a date.”
“Okay, smartiepants,” you giggled. “It’s a date.”
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you guys have no idea how much i enjoyed writing this. it’s probably one of my favorite pieces even though it’s nothing special. i just really loved the idea and figured it’d be nice to type it out. please do let me know what you thought about this? it’d mean the absolute world! thank you so much & hope you have a nice day 💙
tags: @brien-odylan @twilightparker @golddaggers @vnderoos 
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hollandcrush · 6 months ago
in your own time
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tom holland x inexperienced!reader
summary: tom, being a gentleman, offers to help you gain some experience. 
word count: 4,101
warnings: fluff? mostly smut, oral (m.rec), fingering, dirty talk, praise, corruption kink?, protected sex, cursing, one spank, aftercare. (that’s it I think)
a/n: this was a request but I got carried away, obviously. tbh idk if I like this... but I said I’d post it bc well it’s 4,000 words. anyways I hope it is okay? sorry if it sucks, and for my bad writing and any mistakes made :) but enjoy x
“Tom, I’m scared. What happens if I’m terrible at this?”
“I promise you’ll do amazing.” Tom reassured, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind your ear as you sat comfortably on his lap, straddling him.
It all started when Tom invited you over for a movie night. It wasn’t unusual for you two to hang out, after all, you’ve been friends for the majority of your short life. Tom was an actor, who had earned a major breakthrough as he got cast as Spider-Man. This was insane as both of you grew up watching the Marvel movies together, fangirling over Robert Downey Jr. Tom was off to Atlanta next week to shoot for the upcoming Captain America film. Thus, he wanted to spend some quality time with his friends before he set off.
Movie night seemed to be normal, both sitting on the couch silently, some comments made here and there, until the sex scene commenced. You knew the movie was a rom-com, but you didn’t know what it exactly entailed. It took you by surprise. The tension grew thick, you didn’t know how to react. Should you skip forward? Or maybe just let the tension sizzle into nothing?
Tom cleared his throat before beginning to laugh. Your eyes darted towards the man. “What’s so funny?” You asked, sucking your teeth annoyed by his behaviour.
“You. You’re funny!”
You furrowed your eyebrows, confused by his answer. “What do you mean I’m funny? I didn’t do anything.”
“You look so uncomfortable darling. I’m not your dad. I mean it’s just a sex scene. I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of experiences in real life. It just shouldn’t make you uncomfortable.” He teased, unknown to him that you actually never had any type of sexual experiences. I mean a few snogs here and there, but that it.
Sucking your tongue you faced the television, too embarrassed to admit your inexperience. Yes, you were eighteen, but the opportunity never came. You never had a boyfriend, you weren’t a social butterfly like Tom and you definitely didn’t have a queue of guys in your dm’s. Your silence was Toms answer.
“Oh shit! Y/N I didn’t know. It doesn’t matter— I mean it’s just sex and it’s your body. If your waiting for marriage that’s cool. I just thought you, you did it?” He cringed at his own words, utterly confused on how to approach the situation. If he was honest, he was shocked that you were still a virgin. In his eyes, you were gorgeous. Not just your looks, but your personality too. He often found himself pondering as to why you never had a boyfriend. He couldn’t ever detect any flaws.
“Tom that’s the problem. I’m not waiting for marriage, but nobody— and I mean nobody, wants to have sex with me. I don’t know why I mean I think I’m average? You know? Just nobody seems to be interested.” You huffed crossing your arms under your chest.
Tom scratched his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe your a bit too, uh, reserved? I just mean you don’t flaunt yourself on social media. You keep to yourself.” You nodded understanding what he meant. “Yeah I know, it’s just not me.”
“You are really pretty. And I’m not just saying that. Sex doesn’t validate your worth. Just because you haven’t had sex doesn’t make you unattractive or unwanted. Please don’t link the two because you’ll probably do things you regret.” He chuckled before sending you a soft smile.
The heat rose to your cheeks from his compliment. “Thank you, Tom, I mean it. I just wish I got it over and done with.” You mumbled as you played with your fingers. Tom bit his lip, contemplating his next words. If his mother taught him anything, it would be ‘think before you speak’. He didn’t want to complicate your relationship. But his mind was made up.
“Um, I could, you know.”
Your mind went blank at his offer, unable to process it. “You, you want t-to have sex– with me?” You stuttered in disbelief. To say Tom was hot, was an understatement. Tom used to be hot prior to the whole Spider-Man process. Lean, curly hair and gorgeous eyes. Now, he had all that and added muscle. He was ripped, just out of this world attractive. And this was the man who wanted to have sex with you.
“You can say no. Obviously— it’s your body. Anyways, I just thought I’d give you the option. Not because I feel bad for you, I don’t. I just think you’re stunning and deserve to be treated right.” He waffled as you thought about his proposition. But who were you kidding, you were never gonna say no.
“Okay?” He perked.
“Yes, okay.”
Lacing your fingers together he guided you onto his lap, and that is how you ended up in that position. Tom continued to reassure you that everything would be okay and that you wouldn’t disappoint him, building up your confidence. Trying to steady your breath, you looked into his eyes. They always calmed you.
Taking the initiative, Tom caressed your cheek before linking your lips together. It was slow at first, lips moved in sync as tongues teased. He let his hands travel down from your cheeks to your lower back, fingers grazing your skin. The kiss naturally deepened as time passed, elevating you to the next stage. Pulling his lips away, he held your hands, lacing your fingers. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Uh, will we go to my bedroom?”
You nodded as you got off his body, hands still clamped together as you followed him to his room. The short journey was longer than usual, anticipation and tension rising. His bedroom was slightly messy, no different from any other teenage boy. Placing his hands on your hips, his chest was pressed against yours. “Tom, I’m nervous.” You giggled, trying to ease the tension.
Gently placing his hand on your jaw, his thumb caressed your cheek. “We don’t have to do this.” Smiling, you crashed your lips together wanting nothing more than for this to happen. Tom took the hint, hands clumsily fiddled with your shirt, wanting it gone. You broke away, allowing the material to be thrown somewhere in his room. His needy eyes trailed to your chest, tits covered by your lace bralette, nipples peaking through the material. “Fuck so pretty. Better than I’ve ever imagined.” He mumbled.
The part about him imagining you in such an intimate setting flew over your head as his lips attached to the newly exposed skin. Lips marking the mounds as his hands unclasped your bra with ease. The material fell to the ground, his mouth moved to latch around your dark buds. Sucking and teething the sensitive part. “Touch me.” He instructed.
Hesitantly, you let your fingers lace through his locks, massaging his scalp provoking him to groan against your tits. He switched to the other nipple, giving it the attention it craved. His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up with ease. He carried you to the bed, delicately placing you down onto the mattress, lips never leaving your skin.
“Tommy.” You moaned as his hands explored your curves. He pulled away to look at you. Heat rose to your cheeks at the intense gaze. “Sorry did I overstep? It just slipped out.” You blushed.
He shook his head with a smile planted on his face. “No darling, I just really liked the new nickname.” He winked before his lips trailed down your torso, travelling to their desired destination. With fingers hooked under your leggings, he made sure everything was okay. “Am I going to fast? Is this okay?”
“Yes Tommy. Please.”
The material was quickly removed, eyes explored your long legs that trembled under his touch. Kisses softly planted on the inner side of your knees as he separated your thighs, letting cold air brush against your clothed core.
“God you are so perfect. So beautiful darling.” He praised letting his fingers edge closer to your heat.
His eyes snapped up laced with concern. “Uh, can I, y’know, give you head?” You cringed at the words that exited your mouth. He was silent, confused as to why you preferred to give than receive. “I just never did that, and I really want to try.” You admitted. Embarrassment overcame you making you cover your face. His hands grabbed your wrist, pulling them away from you. “If that’s what you want to do, of course.”
Repositioning himself on the bed, his head resting against the headboard, he guided you between his legs. Feeling exposed you covered your chest. Tom took the chance to remove his shirt, his lean abdomen coming into view. “I wanna see you. Please don’t hide. You’re gorgeous.” He reassured as his hand rested against your cheek.
“Um so, could you help me?”
“Yeah, of course, darling, of course.” He chirped, his hands lacing with yours. He guided them to his sweatpants, gripping them around the band so you could take them off. You got the gesture, pulling the fleece material from his body, struggling to get them off his ankles.
You could see his imprint against his Calvins. You knew what your next move was. With shaky hands, you moved his boxers down, freeing his member. It was slightly hard, tip glistened with precum. He was bigger than you thought, causing you to gulp at the thought of him putting it in you.
Your hands gravitated to his cock, curious to how it felt. Fingers ran along the bulging vein, tracing it with light touches before holding it in your hand. A low grunt fell from his lips as he watched intently, loving the way your hand wrapped around his thickness. With your lip tucked between your teeth, you began to move your hand up and down, pumping his cock slowing in your fist. “Will you wet it a bit darling? It will feel so much better.” He groaned.
The first thing to come to mind was to use your spit, and so you did. Letting a drop of spit fall onto his shaft, he moaned loudly. “Shit, okay yeah that will work.” You blushed as you continued the movements, his cock growing in your small hands.
Fixing up your position, you got comfortable on all fours, dropping your head. You’d seen porn, so you had some idea. Licking a stripe from base to tip, before you wrapped your lips around his throbbing cock. “Fuck- shit, yeah just like that.” He panted, taken aback at your sudden movements.
His hand flung to the back of your head, guiding you. His moans letting you know you were doing a good job. Praise and profanities fell from his lips constantly. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.” “You’re taking me so well.” “So innocent, so perfect. God, so fucking good.”
This only encouraged you to bob faster and deeper, his member hitting the back of your throat. Tom, unable to control his hips, thrusted forward causing you to gag. You pulled away from him, wiping the excess spit around your mouth as small coughs erupted. His eyes went wide, feeling guilty for his involuntary action. “I’m so sorry darling, I didn’t mean to do that.”
“It’s okay.” You assured, leaning forward to continue, but Tom’s large hands on your upper arms prevented you to do so. “No darling, you did so well fo’ me but if you keep going I’m going to cum.” He admitted. “I really want to fuck you now. If that’s what you still want?” Nodding your head, he grabbed a condom from his nightstand. “Lie down darling, I need to get you ready for me. Stretch you out. Make you feel good.”
Adjusting yourself on the bed so you were laying down, he propped himself on his side. He kicked off his boxers, leaving him completely bare. The wetness of his cock soaking into your skin as he pressed into your hips. His lips attached to your breast once again, easing your nerves as pleasure clouded your mind.
“That’s it darling, relax. I’m gonna get you ready for me okay? Gonna use my fingers to stretch that tight pussy. Can’t wait to be in you.” You whimpered at his words making him smirk. “You like it when I talk dirty? Tell you what I wanna do to you. Does that turn you on?”
“Yes, Tommy. I love it.”
“Yeah? Can’t wait for you to squeeze me, make me feel warm. I bet your pussy is gonna feel amazing. Gonna fuck you so good darling, make you come undone around me.”
Body reacted to his words, clenching around nothing. As he spoke his hands travelled south, rubbing you through your panties. “Can’t wait to take away your innocence, make you mine. You are so fucking sexy.” He whispered into your neck before he added another mark.
His fingers fiddled to push your panties to the side, digits finally coming in contact with your soaked centre. This contact caused you to moan, feeling his soft touch swipe through your folds gathering your wetness. “All yours Tommy.”
You were shocked by the words that just slipped out. His teeth grazed at your skin. “Love the way you say my new nickname darling. But all mine? Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do to you?” He encouraged, fingers teasing your clit.
Panic. “Tom I never, never did anything like that. I don’t know what to say.”
“Shh. It’s okay. Just want to hear you. Tell me what you want me to do with my fingers yeah?” His breath hot against your ear as teeth scraped against your earlobe.
“Uh I want you to- to, fuck me with your f-fingers.” You stuttered, scared that you weren’t sexy enough for him.
“Yeah, use my thick fingers to stretch you is it? I’ll stretch you better than your own fingers ever could.” His digits beginning to tease circles on your sensitive bud.
“Yes! I’d feel so full Tommy. Please put more pressure on my clit.”
“Like this?” He teased, following your orders rubbing harsher circles. Your back arched, toes curled. Only sounds that could leave your lips were small pants and moans. Tom continued the movement, coaxing you towards your climax. Once he knew you were relaxed, he dropped his hand to your entrance. A finger slipping deep into your core causing you to clamp around him. “Relax darling, I promise it will be okay? Tell me if it’s too uncomfortable okay?”
His lips crashed onto yours, getting your mind to focus on something else. It worked. His finger could finally move, pumping in and out of you in slow, twisting motions. Putting his thumb to your clit, he added another digit, stretching you. He curled his fingers letting him hit your g-spot with ease. The knot started to build in your stomach. “Tommy.” You whined against his lips.
“Yeah darling? You close darling? Feel your walls pulsing around me.” He asked pushing another finger into your dripping heat. The stretch made you cry out. “That’s it darling, come around my fingers. I’m here. Let go.”
The knot in your stomach exploded, legs shook as the pleasure took over. You screamed his name, thankful his family wasn’t home. Tom rode out your high as he continued to finger you at a slow, steady pace. Hips rocked against yours, lips and tongues continue to clash. It was messy but passionate.
Pulling his fingers away, he sucked each one individually as if he finished a bowl of chicken wings. moaning at your taste. “Taste so delicious princess. Wish I could eat you out every day.”
You couldn’t help but moan as you rolled your eyes to the back of your head. You heard the condom packet rip open, grabbing it from him. “Can I put it on?” You innocently asked through heavy eyes. He gulped, cock on the edge of combustion as he nodded.
Propping onto your knees, you took the condom trying to figure out how to put it on. His hands guided yours to his tip, showing you to pinch the tip and roll. “Like that princess.” You followed his instructions, rolling the rubber down his shaft.
“Fuck, can’t explain how sexy you are. How do you look so innocent while doing such a naughty thing darling. Gonna start calling you m’ angel.”
Heat rose to your cheeks, his hands starting to pull at your panties, begging them to come off. You helped, moving your hips and kicking off the fabric. Both admired one another, bare and uninterrupted. Such a beautiful and intimate moment.
His hand glided over your thigh, soothing the muscle. “Lay down angel. Let me take care of you.”
“Uh- I was thinking maybe, I could ride you?”
Toms eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Never has a girl offered to be on top. He had to tame his excitement by clearing his throat. This was about you, not him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I can do all the work toni-“ “No, Tommy. I want to be on top.” You interrupted, confidence laced into every word.
Hesitantly, you threw your leg over his thigh, straddling him. His cock touching your heat, anticipation growing every second. This was it. Tom was going to be your first time.
Raising your hips so they hovered over his cock as he held it, you placed your hands on his shoulders taking a deep breath, steadying your nerves. His hands rested on your hips. “Take your time angel. If you need to stop or feel uncomfortable, please don’t be scared to tell me. Are you sure you want this?” His question didn’t need any consideration.
“Yes, Tommy. I want this. I need you.”
Letting gravity do the work, you slowly slid down his cock. The stretch felt funny at first, uncomfortable. The slow pace let you adjust to every inch. Tom's teeth dug into his lip, drawing blood as he tried to control the pleasure he was experiencing. As soon as you bottomed, Tom grunted.
“Darling, god. You feel amazing. Better than I could ever imagine. So warm, so tight. You okay?” You crashed your lips, distracting yourself from the strange sensation. It was nice but different. You needed to relax. Tom's lips moved in sync with yours, fingers sunk into your skin, needing to ground himself.
A few moments passed and that weird sensation had turned into complete ecstasy. “I’m okay.” You panted, your stomach contracting as the familiar pressure returned. “In your own time angel.”
Ready, you began to move your hips up, the stretch intensifying. Fingernails left crescent shapes in his skin. “Tommy you are so big.” You whined loving the feeling of him filling you up. Your words turning him on even more.
“Yeah darling? Do I make you feel good? You make me feel amazing. Fuck.” He groaned as he watched your hips snap back down. “Yeah Tommy, you m-make, me feel incredible. So big. Stretch me so good.” You whimpered as you repeated the movements.
His hands glued to your side, helping your body ride his cock. Eyes flickered between your chest, face and cunt. He watched the way his cock disappeared into you with ease, the way your tits bounced, and the way your eyes were squeezed tight. It was a magnificent sight.
“So tight. Take me so well darling. Fuck, and still look so innocent.”
Soon you wanted more, needed more. Instead of begging him to fuck you, you took it upon yourself. Changing the position, feet planted on the bed, you began to bounce harder against him. Tom's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he flung his it back. “Fuck. Your gonna make me cum so fast. Shit, angel.”
“Cum, Tommy, please.” You begged nearing your own release. His grip tightened around you. His eyes looked deep into yours. “May I?” You nodded, knowing what he meant.
Soon, Tom was fucking you at an inhuman speed as he used his grip to manhandle you. His hips meeting yours. Screams ripped from your throat as he ruthlessly hit your g-spot with insane accuracy. Every limb in your body becoming weak, you leaned forward, digging your head into his neck. Fingers entangled in his locks, pulling at them making him growl. You were at his mercy as he was now in complete control.
“Princess, tell. Me you are. Close.” He panted between hard thrusts. His feet were planted on the bed, back rested against the headboard giving him leverage to fuck you deep. The bed constantly creaked and hit against the wall.
“Yes! Tommy. I’m gonna– fuck.”
You clenched around him, suffocating his cock as your body convulsed against his body, your climax a thousand times more intense. This tipped him over the edge as he released into the condom. The feeling of you clutching him proved to be too much. He coaxed you through the orgasm with praises and slow thrusts.
“Atta girl, so good for me.” “You did amazing.” “Felt so amazing, the best girl. My perfect angel.”
As the pleasure sizzled down, an ache was evident between your thighs. You winced as he moved his hips a little. You were chest to chest, his hand rubbing circles on your back.
“Darling, we gotta clean you up.” Tom said breaking the silence between you. It wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful, listening to one another’s heartbeats.
“No Tommy, just stay a little longer.” You pleaded, nestling your face into his neck placing a kiss. You didn’t know what overcame you as you began to suck on the skin. You felt as if you needed to mark him, make him yours in that moment. He groaned. hands travelled to massage your ass. “You are gonna kill me darling.” He stated before placing a soft smack on your cheek, making you groan in pain.
“Shit are you okay? I’m sorry.” He panicked, never meaning to cause you pain. “I’m okay, just sore.” You admitted, hand soothing his scalp. He hummed, lips softly placing a kiss on your temple.
“C’mon. You will feel better once we freshen you up.” He perked, trying to help you off his hips. Biting your lip, you tried to conceal the painful sensation. Tom saw right through however. He quickly took off the condom, throwing it in the bin.
Turning back to you, he gave a loving kiss to your stomach and each thigh before he effortlessly picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the adjacent bathroom. He placed you on the toilet before telling you to pee, something to do with a UTI.
“I’ll be back.” He promised before exiting the bathroom. You heard a lot of shuffling and rustling of fabric coming from his room. Confused to what he was doing  until you finished, and saw a small red stain on the tissue. Embarrassment immediately flooded your body.
Tom came back, boxers now covered his lower half. He noticed your hunched posture. “Here darling.” He said as he handed you his shirt. You quickly threw it over your head, covering your body. He helped you up before hoisting you onto the cold countertop. He grabbed a cloth, dampening it in the sink. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled.
Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”
“I, y’know. Bled.” You spluttered, not able to look him in the eye. Placing a hand under your chin, he lifted it. “Don’t you dare apologise for that, it is natural. It happens.” He reassured, thumb caressing your cheek before he kissed you, careful to not hurt your fragile body.
He cleaned between your thighs, making sure you were okay. He carried you back to the bed, laying you down softly onto the fresh covers. He turned off the lights before joining you. His large arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, comforting you. “So how was it?”
“Amazing. Thank you, Tom, for being my first.” You praised giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Your mind suddenly clogged with confusing thoughts as you remembered that this was your best friend, not boyfriend, no matter how much you wanted him to be. You couldn’t help but curse yourself out mentally for ruining your friendship. Unknown to you however, Tom was feeling the same.
“Y/N, I don’t want to be just your first. I want to be your forever.”
ew.. thanks for reading lmao
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